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ST. TERESA OF JESUS
BX
of the Order of Our Lady of Carmel .
EMBRACING
A2
The Life, Relations, Maxims and Foundations
Written by the Saint
ALSO
A History of St. Teresa's Journeys and Foun
dations, with Map and Illustrations
INTRODUCTION BY WALTER ELLIOTT, C. S. P.
EDITED BY JOHN J. BURKE, C.S.P
Coll. C.
NEW YORK
THE COLUMBUS PRESS
120-122 WEST SIXTIETH STREET
1911
COPYRIGHT 1911.
THE MISSIONARY SOCIETY OF ST. PAUL THE APOSTLE
IN THE STATE OF NEW YORK.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable
Saint Teresa by Richard Crashaw ix
Introduction by Rev. Walter Elliot, C. S. P. . xv
Preface to the Life by David Lewis .... xxix
Preface to the Book of Foundations by David Lewis xliii
Annals of the Saint's Life Ixix
Prologue 1
CHAP. I. Childhood and early Impressions 1
II. The Saint is placed in a Monastery 6
III. The Blessing of being with good People ... 10
IV. Our Lord helps her to become a Nun .... 13
V. Illness and Patience of the Saint 20
VI. The great Debt she owed to our Lord for His Mercy
to her 27
VII. Lukewarmness 33
VIII. The Saint ceases not to pray % 40
IX. The Means whereby our Lord quickened her Soul 53
X. The Graces she received in Prayer ..... 57
XL Why Men do not attain quickly to the perfect Love
of God 63
XII. What we can ourselves do 72
XIII. Of certain Temptations of Satan 76
XIV. The second State of Prayer 87
XV. Instructions for those who have attained to the
Prayer of Quiet 94
XVI. The third State of Prayer 103
XVII. The third State of Prayer 108
XVIII. The fourth State of Prayer 113
XIX. The effects of this fourth State of Prayer . . .120
XX. The Difference between Union and Rapture . . 129
XXI. Conclusion of the Subject . . . e . . _ . .143
XXII. The Security of Contemplatives lies in their not
ascending to high Things if our Lord does not
raise them 149
XXIII. The Saint resumes the History of her Life ... 160
XXIV. Progress under Obedience 169
XXV. Divine Locutions . . 173
XXVI. How the Fears of the Saint vanished .... 184
XXVII. The Saint prays to be directed by a different Way 188
XXVIII. Visions of the Sacred Humanity 198
XXIX. Of Visions 208
XXX. S. Peter of Alcantara comforts the Saint . . .216
XXXI. Of certain outward Temptations and Appearances of
Satan 228
XXXII. Our Lord shows S. Teresa the Place which she had
by her Sins deserved in Hell 240
XXXIII. The Foundation of the Monastery hindered . . 248
XXXIV. The Saint leaves her Monastery of the Incarnation
for a time 257
XXXV. The Foundation of the House of S. Joseph . . 268
XXXVI. The Foundation of the Monastery of S. Joseph . 275
XXXVII. The Effects of the divine Graces in the Soul . . 290
XXXVIII. Certain heavenly Secrets, Visions, and Revelations 297
XXXIX. Other Graces bestowed on the Saint . . . .310
XL. Visions, Revelations, and Locutions .... 323
VI CONTENTS.
THE RELATIONS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. Sent to S. Peter of Alcantara 337
II. To one of her Confessors 349
354
362
365
VI. The Vow of Obedience to Father Gratian . . 370
VII. Made for Rodrigo Alvarez, S.J., 373
VIII. Addressed to F. Rodrigo Alvarez 381
IX. Of certain spiritual Graces she received in Toledo
and Avila 389
X. Of a Revelation to the Saint at Avila .... 398
XI. Written from Palencia in May, 1581 399
III. Of various Graces granted to the Saint
IV. Of the Graces the Saint received in Salamanca
V. Observations on certain Points of Spirituality
BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS.
Prologue 405
I. How this and the other Foundations came to be made 409
II. The General of the Order comes to Avila . . . 413
III. How the Monastery of S. Joseph in Medina del
Campo was begun 417
IV. Of certain Graces bestowed on the Nuns of these
Monasteries 427
V. Directions about Prayer and Revelations most pro
fitable for the Active Li'e 430
VI. Of the Harm it may do Spiritual Persons not to know
when they are to resist the Spirit .... 438
VII. Treatment of Melancholy Nuns 448
VITI. Of Revelations and Visions 453
IX. The Foundation of S. Joseph, Malagon . . . 458
X. The Foundation in Valladolid 460
XI. Dona Casilda de Padilla ........ 467
XII. Life and Death of Beatriz of the Incarnation . . 473
XIII. The Foundation of the First House of Friars under
the Primitive Rule 477
XIV. Foundation of the Monastery of the Barefooted
Friars in Duruelo 481
XV. The Foundation of the Monastery of S. Joseph in
Toledo 487
XVI. Of certain things that took place in the Monastery of
Toledo 495
XVII. The Two Monasteries of Pastrana . . . . .499
XVTII. The Monastery of S. Joseph, Salamanca . . 510
XIX. Monastery of S. Joseph, Salamanca
XX. The Monastery of our Lady of the Annunciation
Alba de Tormes
XXI. The Monastery of S. Joseph, Segovia, 1574
517
524
531
XXII. The Foundation of the Monastery of S. Joseph in
Veas f . 536
XXIII. The Foundation of the Monastery of S. Joseph in
Seville 547
XXTV. The Foundation of S. Joseph in the City of Seville 554
XXV. S. Joseph of Seville 564
XXVT. S. Joseph of Seville 570
XXVII. The Foundation of the Monastery of S. Joseph in
Caravaca 576
XXVTTI. The Foundation of Villanueva de la Jara . . . 589
XXIX. The Foundation of S. Joseph in Palencia . . .615
CONTENTS. Vll
CHAP' PAOB
XXX. The Foundation of the Monastery of the Most Holy
Trinity in Soria 630
XXXI. The Foundation of S. Joseph in Burgos .... 639
LAST DAYS AND DEATH OF THE SAINT 665
MAXIMS OF S. TERESA 671
APPENDIX 679
INDEX . 713
LIST OF PLATES.
TO FACE PAOB
Portrait of S. Teresa — Frontispiece
Avila, St. Teresa's Home 20
Avila, St. Teresa's Childhood 46
Avila, St. Teresa's Youth 62
Avila, Monastery of the Incarnation, 1 87
Avila, Monastery of the Incarnation, II 112
Avila, Monastery of St. Joseph 128
Medina del Campo, Monastery of St. Joseph 148
Malagon, Monastery of St. Joseph 168
Valladolid, Monastery of the Conception of Our Lady
Duruelo, Monastery of Our Lady of Mount Carmel
Toledo, Monastery of St. Joseph
Pastrana, Monastery of Our Lady of the Conception
Pastrana, Monastery of St. Peter
Salamanca, Monastery of St. Joseph
188
208
228
248
266
290
310
Alba de Tormes, Monastery of the Incarnation
Segovia, Monastery of St. Joseph 334
Veas, Monastery of St. Joseph of the Saviour 360
Seville, Monastery of St. Joseph 380
Map 408
Caravaca, Monastery of Our Lady of Mount Carmel . . . 428
Villanueva de la Jara, Monastery of St. Anne 454
Palencia, Monastery of St. Joseph of Our Lady of the Street . 510
Soria, Monastery of the Holy Trinity 536
Granada, Monastery of St. Joseph 562
Burgos, Monastery of St. Joseph and St. Anne 588
St. Teresa's Death and Principal Relics 614
St. Teresa's Beatification and Canonization; Lesser Relics . . 640
A HYMN TO THE NAME OF THE ADMIR
ABLE SAINT TERESA.
BY
RICHARD CRASHAW.
(1613-1649)
Known as the "Teresian" Poet.
Love, thou art absolute sole lord
Of life and death. To prove the word
We'll now appeal to none of all
Those thy old soldiers, great and tall,
Ripe men of martyrdom, that could reach down
With strong arms, their triumphant crown;
Such as could with lusty breath
Speak loud into the face of death,
Their great Lord's glorious name, to none
Of those whose spacious bosoms spread a throne
For Love at large to fill: spare blood and sweat;
And see him take a private seat,
Making his mansion in the mild
And milky soul of a soft child.
Scarce has she learn't to lisp the name
Of. martyr: yet she thinks it shame
Life should so long play with that breath
Which spent can buy so brave a death.
She never undertook to know
What Death with Love should have to do:
Nor has she e're yet understood
Why to show love, she should shed blood,
Yet though she cannot tell you why,
She can love and she can die.
Scarce has she blood enough to make
A guilty sword blush for her sake;
Yet has she a heart dares hope to prove
How much less strong is death than love.
ix
HYMN TO ST. TERESA.
Be Love but there; let poor six years
Be posed with the maturest fears
Man trembles at, you straight shall find
Love knows no nonage, nor the mind;
Tis love, not years or limbs that can
Make the marytr, or the man.
Love touched her heart, and lo! it beats
High, and burns with such brave heats,
Such thirsts to die, as dares drink up
A thousand cold deaths in one cup.
Good reason: for she breathes all fire;
Her white breast heaves with strong desire
Of what she may with fruitless wishes
Seek for amongst her mother's kisses.
Since 'tis not to be had at home
She'll travail to a martyrdom.
No home for her confesses she
But where she may a martyr be.
She'll to the Moors; and trade with them
For this unvalued diadem;
She'll offer them her dearest breast,
With Christ's name in it, in change for death;
She'll bargain with them; and will give
Them God; teach then how to live
In Him; or, if they this deny
For Him she'll teach them how to die:
So shall she leave amongst them sown
Her Lord's blood; or at least her own.
Farewell then, all the World! adieu!
Teresa is no more for you.
Farewell, all pleasures, sports, and joys
(Never till now esteemed toys)
Farewell, whatever dear maybe,
Mother's arms or father's knee:
Farewell house, and farewell home!
She's for the Moors, and martyrdom.
Sweet, not so fast! lo thy fair Spouse
Whom thou seekest with so swift vows;
Calls thee back, and bids thee come
To embrace a milder martyrdom.
Blest powers forbade, thy tender life
Should bleed upon a barbarous knife;
Or some base hand have power to raze
Thy breast's chaste cabinet, and uncase
A soul kept there so sweet: O no,
HYMN TO ST. TERESA. XI
Wise Heaven will never have it so.
Thou art Love's victim; and must die
A death more mystical and high:
Into Love's arms thou shalt let fall
A still-surviving funeral.
His is the dart must make the death
Whose stroke shall taste thy hallow'd breath;
A dart thrice dipped in that rich flame
Which writes thy Spouse's radiant name
Upon the roof of Heaven, where ay
It shines; and with a sovereign ray
Beats bright upon the burning faces
Of souls which in that Name's sweet graces
Find everlasting smiles: so rare,
So spiritual, pure and fair
Must be the immortal instrument
Upon whose choice point shall be sent
A life so loved: and that there be
Fit executioners for thee,
The fair'st and first-born sons of fire,
Blest seraphim, shall leave their choir,
And turn Love's soldiers, upon thee
To exercise their archery.
O how oft shall thou complain
Of a sweet and subtle pain:
Of intolerable joys:
Of a death, in which who dies
Loves his death, and dies again
And would for ever so be slain.
And lives, and dies; and knows not why
To live, but that he thus may never leave to die.
How kindly will thy gentle heart
Kiss the sweetly-killing dart!
And close in his embraces keep
Those delicious wounds, that weep
Balm to heal themselves with: thus
When these thy deaths, so numerous
Shall all at last die into one,
And melt thy soul's sweet mansion;
Like a soft lump of incense, hasted
By too hot a fire, and wasted
Into perfuming clouds, so fast
Shall thou exhale to Heaven at last
In a resolving sigh, and then
O what? Ask not the tongues of men;
Angels cannot tell; suffice
Thyself shall feel thine own full joys,
And hold them fast forever there.
So soon as thou shalt first appear,
The moon of maiden stars, thy white
Xll HYMN TO ST. TERESA.
Mistress, attended by such bright
Souls as thy shining self, shall come
And in her first ranks make thee room;
Where 'mongst her snowy family
Immortal welcomes wait for thee.
O what delight, when reveal'd Life shall stand,
And teach thy lips Heaven with His hand;
On which thou now mayest to thy wishes
Heap up thy consecrated kisses.
What joys shall seize thy soul, when she,
Bending her blessed eyes on Thee,
(Those second smiles of Heav'n) shall dart
Her mild rays through Thy melting heart.
Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee
Glad at their own home now to meet thee.
All thy good works which went before
And waited for thee, at the door,
Shall own thee there; and all in one
Weave a constellation
Of crowns, with which the King thy Spouse
Shall build up thy triumphant brows.
All thy old woes shall now smile on thee,
And thy pains sit bright upon thee,
All thy sorrows here shall shine,
All thy sufferings be divine:
Tears shall take comfort, and turn gems
And wrongs repent to diadems.
Ev'n thy death shall live; and new —
Dress the soul that erst he slew.
Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scars
As keep account of the Lamb's wars.
Those rare works where thou shalt leave writ
Love's noble history, with wit
Taught thee by none but Him, while here
They feed our souls, shall clothe thine there.
Each heavenly word, by whose hid flame
Our hard hearts shall strike fire, the same
Shall flourish on thy brows, and be
Both fire to us and flame to thee;
Whose light shall live bright in thy face
By glory, in our hearts by grace.
Thou shalt look round about, and see
Thousands of crowned souls throng to be
Themselves thy crown; sons of thy vows
The virgin-births with which thy sovereign Spouse
Made fruitful thy fair soul. Go now
And with them all about thee, bow
To Him; put on (He'll say) put on
(My rosy love) that thy rich zone
Sparkling with the sacred flames
HYMN TO ST. TERESA. Xlll
Of thousand souls, whose happy names
Heav'n keep upon thy score: (Thy bright
Life brought them first to kiss the light,
That kindled them to stars,) and so
Thou with the Lamb, thy Lord, shalt go,
And whereso'ere He sets His white
Steps, walk with Him those ways of light,
Which who in death would live to see,
Must learn in life to die like thee.
INTRODUCTION.
THE fascination and influence of a great personality
stretch throughout time with a message for every age. Teresa
of Jesus, truest and soundest of mystics, rich in subjective
experiences, yet richer in self-effacement before the glory of
the most High God ; most independent yet most submissive of
women, untiring in labours, exalted in prayer — the message
of such a one to our times is too obvious to need comment.
A reprint of her works needs no explanation. The test of
three and a half centuries of trial has been applied to her
books and has proved them worthy of the life-long reading
of all spiritually-minded Christians. Her sympathetic and
unconventional style is a crystal medium of communication
between herself and any human soul. Given a reader with any
degree of devout receptivity and St. Teresa's writings are
quickly established among his master books, to be used oc
casionally all through life, in many cases to be used unceas
ingly. They may, therefore, be read by persons in all states
and conditions of life in Holy Church, who are in the least
degree desirous of Christian perfection. Nor is this privilege
the monopoly only of the more perfect Christians; a soul
but newly converted from the most degrading vice, if he be
only intensely converted, can get some profit and very practi
cal profit from every page of these messages of a fellow-
mortal raised to the highest sanctity.
Her literary abilities make this reading a delight. Her
words written as they were in the golden age of her native
tongue are ranked among the best Castilian classics. The
style is flowing yet terse. There is not the faintest suspicion
of verbiage, yet she possesses the diffusivenesses of description
so necessary in discoursing of topics where the least shade
of meaning ministers to the essential needs of integral in
formation.
xv
XVI INTRODUCTION.
In so typical a contemplative one might expect to find
a retiring timorous soul : Teresa was retiring, indeed, and
craved passionately to be alone with God. But in reading her
"Life" and "Letters," and especially her "Book of Founda
tions," we become acquainted with an independent even an
aggressive temperament, full of initiative, venturesome, re
sourceful, even bold to the verge of audacity — all this ex
hibited not simply as a result of the supernatural gift of
fortitude ; but, in a certain degree, of her native and instinctive
qualities.
Some little girls forecast their future vocation by
playing nun; she did so by actually striving to become
a martyr for Christ. Her's was naturally the reverse of a
yielding, pliant nature. During her early years, both at home
and at boarding school, though a sweet-tempered guileless
child, she was self-willed. When her father refused his con
sent to her entering the convent, she left her home and
joined the Sisters against his will. From the beginning to
the end of her life she exhibited great self-poise of character.
Even after God had terribly chastened her by interior an
guish and bodily illness extending over many years, and had
begun to illumine her soul with a miraculous guidance, He yet
did not hinder her from thinking for herself. Though, as
we shall see, He granted her heroic grace of obedience to
superiors. After he had elevated her motives and had be
stowed on her the rarest gifts of infused prayer, she still
retained the original native force; and she responded to His
inspiration for introducing the Carmelite reform by a strik
ingly fearless plan of action. Fortified with the counsel of
the wisest confessors she could find, she undertook the task
of reforming an old and decadent religious order, a harder
task by far than the founding of a new one in original fervour
— "a purpose" to quote the language of Holy Church in the
Saint's Office, "in which blossomed forth the omnipotent
blessing of the merciful Lord. For this poor Virgin destitute
of all human help, nay very often opposed by the great ones
of this world, established thirty-two monasteries."
In almost every case she was forced to defend herself
against numerous and powerful enemies. Her holy pur
poses were maligned; her friends persecuted, and she, her
self, often in danger of bodily harm. But she struggled
on undauntedly, now against the wild passions of the towns-
INTRODUCTION. XV11
people, now against the jealousy of other communities, or
the dark suspicions of prelates; again hindered by the cold
ness of associates, or half-heartedness of friends, sometimes
held back even by the timidity of her confessors — brave men
enough but appalled by the obstacles she so fearlessly faced.
Her age was the last glorious era of Spanish knight
hood whose exploits in the old and new world filled men's
souls with wonder, and established the mightiest empire of
modern times. But no cabellero or conquistador among her
dauntless countrymen could excel her in daring. She battled
valorously in the peaceful field of the Gospel, where victories
are won by love of enemies and by holy patience. She
thirsted for those conflicts ; and she exhibited a spirit of
adventure in the cause of God during the twenty years of her
career as a founder, which makes her achievements read
like a romance.
Furthermore, this nun, rated by non-Catholic writers as a
dreamy mystic, was a good business manager. Though so
often rapt into the celestial regions of holiest thought and
love, St. Teresa was the reverse of a dreamer, knew how to
drive a good bargain, borrowed money advantageously,
quickly fathomed weakness of character in the men and women
with whom she dealt. Cardinal Wiseman, in his preface to the
English version of "St. John of the Cross," calls attention to
the matter-of-fact expression of St. Teresa's face in her authen
tic portrait, the solid sense, the keen observation, the well-rec
ognized traits of countenance of a capable woman of affairs.
Read her letters to her brother about family concerns,
and the many other letters about business matters, if you
would see how good a head she had for plain, everyday work
—that head so filled with divine thoughts, and yet so shrewd
for the earthly duties incident to her vocation as a foundress.
She was the advance agent and the first and final manager
in all such things as title deeds and purchases, debts and lega
cies, as well as the current support of each of her many mon
asteries ; a sane woman of immense positiveness and great
business foresight, yet often lifted up into the heavens in
raptures and again restored to earth — a wondrous duplex
life of inspiration wholly miraculous and of good sense en
tirely reliable. Her practical decisions were very rarely at
fault. She had a marvelous mingling together of the truest
earthly with the sublimest heavenly guidance.
XV111 INTRODUCTION.
The memorable calm of her master mind is as well dis
played in her "Letters" as in the "Book of Foundations,"
a feminine spirit enthralled by the knowledge of God closely
viewed and utterly devoid of feminine fussiness.
The entire gentleness of the sex is there, every sweet
virtue of sympathy, kindness and patience, yet with all a
queenly purpose to stand her ground for God and right against
all comers. She ruled the male sex as simply as she did the
female, and dealt no less masterfully with able, holy men than
she did with the great-souled women who were her close
associates. Her coadjutors, or rather her auxiliaries, were
indeed, oftener men than women, noblemen and men of wealth
or of learning, or sanctity, and of states of life varying from
petty shopkeepers to archbishops and grandees. Not seldom
she became spiritual adviser to the many saints and sages who
from first to last were her directors. But if she mastered
these men with great power, it was never at the expense of
her womanly kindness, nor with the least semblance of man-
nishness. St. Teresa always thinks for herself and yet is
never free from the sense of another's approval. One half
of her outward history tells of the great works of God she
both originated and achieved; the other half is the narrative
of her dealings, most submissive, with every grade of superior.
And never was any saint called on by God to obey so many
unlawful superiors, so many lawful superiors quite misin
formed, oflen enough totally stampeded by the basest
calumnies, or again far transgressing their canonical limits of
authority. Yet she responded with entire compliance ; in
every case submitting sadly but fully to inspiration, just as
she did joyfully to legitimate guidance. Fools in high places
received her allegiance as well as the wisest men in Spain ; she
obeyed scoundrels as promptly as saints. During many years
she was led by an interior guidance so plainly divine that
she solemnly and repeatedly affirms she would have cheer
fully died to witness to its validity. Yet when anyone hold
ing authority over her in the external order crossed the divine
will thus made known to her, she never faltered in obedience
to the representatives of God's outward rule, though some
times she felt a pain in doing so that threatened to be her
death.
As in her practice so in her precepts, she advances the
essential need of this virtue of obedience, so renowned in
INTRODUCTION. XIX
the little commonwealths of absorbed prayer and sacrificial
suffering she was engaged in founding. The following words,
taken from the fifth chapter of the "Book of Foundations,"
and addressed to all of her nuns, may be a description of her
own struggles, while emphasizing in practise the supreme
dogma of obedience: "Our Lord makes much of this sub
mission, and with perfect justice; for it is by means of it
that we make Him master of the free-will He has given us.
We practise it sometimes quickly and completely, thereby
winning an immediate self-conquest; at other times it is only
after a thousand struggles that we succeed, constantly think
ing that the decisions made by superiors in our case are
nothing but folly. But finally, being drilled and practised
by this painful exercise, we conform to what is commanded —
painfully or not, we do it. Upon this our Lord, having helped
us all the time, now seeing that we submit our will and our
reason for His sake, gives us the grace to become masters
of both." The uses and the philosophy of obedience could
hardly be better stated.
The most cursory acquaintance with our saint reveals, as
we have shown, a nature impulsive indeed but not headlong,
a steadfast soul, full of initiative, yet by obedience made pru
dent to the verge of caution. But once set agoing by the
instincts of zeal, it bore down opposition by the force of
holiness of motive and an extraordinary power of persuasion.
All through her "Book of Foundations," as well as in her
"Life" and "Letters," she shows that her resistless will to
do right was wholly adjusted to the strictest obedience. Men
and women conscious of a great mission (or of a little one they
think to be great) will find in her a perfect illustration of
how obedience does not hinder individuality, but, on the con
trary, only tames the soul's wildness, chastens its pride,
purges it of lower motives, enriches it with the counsel of good,
wise, and peaceable advisers, and hinders both precipitancy
and tardiness. While constantly checking self-conceit, obed
ience blesses and adorns a strong nature's activity with the
supreme merit of humility.
One is at a loss to decide whether such virtues as courage
and constancy are more plainly St. Teresa's characteristics
than conformity to lawful authority. If her obedience is
magnificent, yet her fearlessness is often yet more magnificent.
XX INTRODUCTION.
If a model of obedience, yet is she a living lesson that a life of
perfection is not for the chicken-hearted.
To her obedience, primarily, but also to her fearlessness
we owe her most famous work — her autobiography. It nar
rates the principle events of her life up to, and including,
the founding of the first monastery of her reform at Avila.
Its chief purpose was to specify dates, places, persons and all
the other accompaniments of her earlier supernatural expe
riences. It is the chronicle of the Saint's novitiate under the
Holy Spirit as Novice Master. The personal element is power
ful in the "Life" for during several years of her divine visita
tions she was suspected of being bewitched by Satan ; in fact
this was the deliberate decision of several learned and devout
priests, and St. Teresa was treated accordingly. After a
dreadful interval of suffering she met with better informed
confessors and her vindication was truly dramatic in its sud
denness and completeness. The "Life" is vivid in its interest
and valuable in its instructiveness.
The eleven "Relations" of her spirit and method of prayer
made to different ecclesiastics reiterate and confirm details
found both in the "Life" and the "Book of Foundations" which
was also written under obedience, and is truly a continuation
of her autobiography.
"The Book of Foundations" holds a unique place in litera
ture as a minute disclosure of the relation of the interior
guidance of God to His external ordering of affairs. It is the
faithful, elaborate history of the providential happenings con
nected with the beginnings of nearly all her convents of men
or of women, a narrative of the events of her career from the
start of the reform at Avila till shortly before her death. Be
cause so essential a sequel of the "Life," so necessary for an
integral, finished study of her career and character we have
been prompted to publish it in the same volume hoping
thereby to preserve for the reader greater continuity of
thought and unity of conception in the singularly powerful
and impressive history of one of God's greatest Saints, the
greatest woman of the sixteenth century.
The "Book of Foundations" was composed by the saint
from her own imperishable memories of her supernatural
experiences in the establishment of these houses of solitude
and penance, every one of them dear to her as her heart's
blood — almost every one a victory won by a hard-fought
INTRODUCTION. XXI
battle over the allied forces of petty jealously, human greed
and official timidity. Its peculiar value is in the golden thread
which runs through it of the daily supernatural history of
the author. Hardly anything important was ever done except
from the inner promptings of the Holy Spirit. These are
described with the same artless and entrancing simplicity as
the curious and often startling adventure accompanying the
outward work of the establishment of the different houses.
One passes from the promptings of her divine interior Guide
to her counsellings with external guides and her conflicts
with many opponents. We read now of her shrewd dealings
with lawyers and property-owners, and then of her ecstasies
and visions. From conferences with magistrates and prelates
we pass to interviews with the holy angels. We see how
marvelously both orders of life, the earthly and heavenly, were
ordered and mingled together by God for the founding of
communities of austere, prayerful friars and nuns, interme
diaries for uniting and carrying out God's temporal and ex
ternal purposes among men.
We are indebted to Mr. David Lewis, a distinguished
Tractarian convert, for the admirable English translations
used in this volume. He has edited the books elaborately,
offering valuable suggestions, historical and critical, with a
surprisingly full contribution of references to parallel records
of events and teachings found in other writings.
All Teresians of our tongue feel that Lewis' book could
hardly be touched without injury to sense or spirit of the
original ; and plainly Father Zimmerman is of the same mind,
for in his latest edition of St. Teresa's works, by which he
has placed every lover of the Saint in his debt, he is austerely
reticent, even reverent. Father Zimmerman's deep research
and untiring labour have added much to our knowledge of
the Saint's life and her associates. We refer the reader to
his volumes for a more extensive and deeper knowledge of
St. Teresa's writings. We wish to acknowledge our gratitude
to Messrs. Burns and Gates of London, England, for permis
sion to use the Lewis translations of 1870 and 1871 and also
to recognize the debt of all lovers of St. Teresa to the Bene
dictine nuns of Stanbrook, England, who have done so much
to extend the knowledge of this marvellous choir-mistress of
the praises of God on earth.
In conection with the "Life," "Relations," and the "Book
XX11 INTRODUCTION.
of Foundations," the present volume presents for the first
time in English a unique French work entitled "L'Espagne
Theresienne ou Pelerinage d' Un Flamand a Toutes les Fond-
ations de Ste. Therese." It was published in folio, second edi
tion, 1893, at the Carmelite monastery in Ghent. In the publi
cation in English of this volume and the reproduction of its
valuable map and illustrations we were greatly aided by Father
Albert of the Infant Jesus, Prior of the Discalced Carmelites
of Ghent, Belgium and by Madam Hye Hoys, the widow of
the esteemed author. This faithful itinerary of the Saint's
life as a founder is illustrated in minute detail. These valuable
illustrations which enable the reader to make his pilgrimage
in the footsteps of St. Teresa, are reproduced here with ex
planatory notes and keys from the Prologue of the original
French edition. The following account is given of the author's
travels and labours : —
On March 1, 1866, M. Hye Hoys, a pious layman quitted
Ghent, his native town, accompanied by his wife, and jour
neyed towards Spain. Furnished with authority from eccle
siastical and municipal dignitaries, he purposed to visit every
spot where the Seraphic reformer of the Carmelites had dwelt;
to collect with the aid of pen and pencil everything tending
to promote the glory of that great servant of God. He was
fully aware of the difficulties he would encounter in the pur
suit of his aims, but resolutely resolved to overcome them.
The Sovereign Pontiff had given him permission to enter
the monasteries of Discalced Carmelites founded by the dis
tinguished Castilian as well as those of the Mitigated Rule
in which she first consecrated herself to God.
At the end of the diary of his journey he says: — "I have
visited all the monasteries founded by St. Teresa ; I have seen
nearly all the localities honoured by her presence. True I
have not been permitted to enter all the monasteries still
existing, but I have collected notes, documents and sketches,
far superior in numbers and importance to what I could have
hoped for."
This valuable result was achieved at the cost of privation,
fatigue and suffering. As the greater part of the foundations
are in neighbourhoods far removed from railways, the pil
grims spent days in diligences, post-carriages or clumsy, un
comfortable carts of^en with the dried bed of a torrent for a
road, often searching for a fording place over a swollen river ;
INTRODUCTION. XXlii
they crossed mountain ranges on mule back and, ascending
from the warm valleys, would often find themselves half frozen
by the bitter northerly winds which blew about their summits.
The means of transportation had not changed since St.
Teresa's day.
M. Hye Hoys examined also the libraries and galleries
of the great cities. When he had thoroughly explored Spain,
he visited France, Austria and Italy to increase his booty.
Then with the courage which never failed him, he undertook
the great task of reviewing, classifying and connotating the
materials he had gathered in such various ways. With per
severance and devotion he pursued his arduous work; but,
like the husbandman whom death carries off just as his harvest
is ready for the sickle, M. Hye Hoys was not to see the com
pletion of his task. God called him to His presence on De
cember 15, 1884, before he could put the final touch to the
monument he desired to raise to the memory of St. Teresa.
His death was, happily, not the abandonment of his work.
His drawings were completed and the essential part of his
research work compiled. The book, therefore, might be pub
lished without the personal supervision of the author. Five
of the finished engravings of this volume were awarded a gold
medal at Salamanca during M. Hye Hoy's lifetime on the
occasion of the three-hundredth anniversary of St. Teresa's
death.
It is generally admitted there is but one authentic por
trait of St. Teresa existing, that executed in Seville in 1576
by Brother Juan de la Miseria by order of Father Gratian,
then Apostolic Commissary to the Carmelite Monasteries
of Andalusia and Castile. Historians and critics differ as to
where it may be found. M. Hye Hoys believes it hangs in
one of the rooms of the Hotel de Ville at Avila His opinion
is based on the fact that the portrait at Avila seems to be
by the same hand as the Ecce Homo in the Discalced Mon
astery at Pastrana, known to be by Juan de la Miseria ; also
because it conforms more closely than the others to the minute
description of St. Teresa's appearance left by the two writers
who knew her, de Ribera and Yepes. It is full length and life
size.
Even to the distant onlookers like the present writer and
the average reader the higher ways of God are curiously
interesting. Although we may have scant comprehension of
XXIV INTRODUCTION.
the heights of holiness yet the saints are our brethren. We
are proud of their greatness. It is ours even by virtue of
kinship in the human family, still more by unity in the house
hold of Faith. To read of St. Teresa's mystical experiences
arouses a holy envy in our hearts since she was of the same
clay as ourselves, and the motives which inspired her, espe
cially in the beginning, are identical with our own in our
better religious moments. Then, too, among mystical hap
penings devout readers always meet with some things of
highly practical and even elementary use in God's daily serv
ice. The Saint is pleased to lead us with her through the
"Way of Perfection" even into the "Interior Castle" of her
soul. She rejoices in our company there, for from among
the mass of mere gazers upon this revelation of the divine
Majesty, God, by just such reading, may select some whom
He will inspire to emulate her in seeking closer union with
Him, and the number of these is much larger than many
suppose.
In the 'Life" and in the "Book of Foundations" one is
struck with the large number of saintly contemplatives sanc
tifying secular states of life in St. Teresa's day.
In a home full of holiest prayer, she herself learned not
only the rudiments but something more of that heavenly
science of which Holy Church has proclaimed her a Master in
Israel. From a layman, a friend of her family, she gathered
both the incitement to a contemplative life and the chief rules
to be observed therein. She speaks of such souls in the
"Interior Castle" (III. Mansions ch. 1). "Through God's
goodness I believe there are many such people in this world ;
they are very desirous not to offend His Majesty, even by
venial sins ; they love penance and spend hours in meditation ;
they employ their time well ; exercise themselves in works of
charity to their neighbours; they are well ordered in their
conversation and dress, and those who own a household gov
ern it well. This certainly is to be desired and there appears
to be no reason to forbid them entrance to the last Mansions;
nor will Our Lord deny it them if they desire it, for this is
the right disposition for receiving all His favours." By the
expression "the Last Mansion" the Saint means the very
highest contemplative states.
Let us hope there are in our own day and living among us
men and women in the secular world who are called by God
INTRODUCTION. XXV
to such precious spiritual favours. We are persuaded that
the plainest indication of this is given by the response that has
been made everywhere to the legislation of the present Holy
Father concerning frequent and daily Communion.
The pages of St. Teresa's works have ever been and are
still the trysting place of the Holy Spirit with His more ardent
lovers in all conditions of Christian society. Especially are
they a wonderful help to priests occupied, even over-occupied,
with parish and missionary labours ; to the members of Sister
hoods upon whom Holy Church so largely depends for the
schooling of her children, and the care of the poor, the sick,
and the fallen ; to the more devout among the laity, including
married people, and busy workers in professional and com
mercial life, among whom many clients of our Saint may be
discovered. All these are happily and safely piloted along
the gentle streams of affective prayer and the paths of perfect
Christian virtue by this masterful teacher of holy living.
She dwelt, indeed, much of her time among the angels, yet
she trod also the dull earth of our daily life, a perfect guide
in the highways and by-ways of ordinary prayer. She trained,
alike, lowly virgins and high prelates in the A. B. C. of medi
tation.
Not meditation, however, but contemplation is St.
Teresa's peculiar field of instruction. What St. Ignatius was
to the active-minded prayer of meditation that was St. Teresa
to the quiet-minded prayer of contemplation. But she knew,
also, as we have seen, how to direct minds to orderly thought
about divine things. Her letter to the Bishop of Osma, con
sidered by Bishop Palafox, "the most spiritual and the most
important" of all her letters, proves how mistaken is the
notion that the simplest rudiments of a devout life may not
be learned from this great mystic. But she teaches always
that not only the lowly ways but a high state of union with
God, may in all humility of heart be aspired to by all good
Christians; or, at least, that admiration of its glorious privi
leges may take on a yearning, petitioning spirit. She exclaims,
"Since, O my God, Thou dost see of what grave import is this
peace to us, do Thou incite Christians to strive to gain it"
(Interior Castle VII. Mansions ch. iii.), and shortly before this
in the same work (VI. Mansions ch. iv.) : "I cannot help feeling
keenly grieved at seeing what we lose by our own fault. It is
true His Majesty grants these favours to whom He chooses;
XXVI INTRODUCTION.
yet if we were to seek Him as He seeks us, He would give
them to all of us. He only longs for souls on whom He may
bestow them, for his gifts diminish not His riches."
After all the highest contemplation is the development
under divine grace of that natural capacity of the soul its
thirst for the Infinite God. Thus to develop and perfect the
soul is the work of supernatural gifts and wholly the act
of God. The life of every Christian, according to St. Teresa,
is one long and continuous movement of the purer affections
towards the Eternal Goodness. All our happiness consists
in thirsting for God and this thirst is fed by prayer.
In the sphere of popular devotions there can be little
doubt that to St. Teresa's heavenly influence the Church is
indebted for the well-nigh universal spread of the devotion
of the scapular, as wonderful in its ordinary spiritual benefits
as in its occasional miracles. The devotion to St. Joseph
also received a powerful impetus from her advocacy — the
first of her reformed houses, St Joseph's, Avila, being in all
probability the first monastery or Church to be named in
honour of our Saviour's foster-father.
Of the dawning apostolate for the conversion of Amer
ica, St. Teresa became a special patron. Father Hecker, an ex
ceedingly active missionary, yet essentially a contemplative,
was her life-long, devoted disciple. He prayed to her con
stantly and always referred to her as one of the greatest
authorities on mystical prayer ever given by God to Holy
Church. St. John of the Cross, her novice and pupil, was
his daily reading and, through his influence, was officially as
sociated with St. Teresa as patron of his community whose
primary vocation is the conversion of America. St. Teresa's
was an age of great missionaries of whom she was second
to none in zeal. Well, then, may we rely on her convert-
making prayers, who by them in her own day, brought scores
of thousands of heretics and infidels to the light of truth.
In one of her letters, speaking of herself in the third
person and referring to her foundations, she says: "Her
prayers and those of the houses she founded were always
animated with an ardent desire for the propagation of the
faith. It was for this object as well as for the good of the
Order that she commenced these foundations." Addressing
her readers at the close of her great work "The Interior
Castle," she says : "For the sake of my strong desire to aid you
INTRODUCTION. XXVll
PIFp'Tr; '*
in serving Him, my God and my Lord, I implore you whenever
you read this book, to praise His Majesty fervently in my
name, and beg Him to prosper His Church. . . May Our Lord
God be forever praised and blessed. Amen, amen."
WALTER ELLIOTT, C. S. P.
PREFACE TO THE LIFE.
S. TERESA was born in Avila on Wednesday, March 28, 1515. Her
father was Don Alfonso Sanchez de Cepeda, and her mother Dona
Beatriz Davila y Ahumada. The name she received in her baptism
was common to both families, for her great-grandmother on the
father's side was Teresa Sanchez, and her grandmother on her
mother's side was Teresa de las Cuevas. While she remained in
the world, and even after she had become a nun in the monastery of
the Incarnation, which was under the mitigated rule, she was known
as Dona Teresa Sanchez Cepeda Davila Ahumada; for in those
days children took the name either of the father or of the mother,
as it pleased them. The two families were noble, but that of Ahumada
was no longer in possession of its former wealth and power.1 Dona
Beatriz was the second wife of Don Alfonso, arid was related in the
fourth degree to the first wife, as appears fr-om the dispensation
granted to make the marriage valid on the 16th of October, 1509.
Of this marriage Teresa was the third child.
Dona Beatriz died young, and the eldest daughter, Maria de
Cepeda, took charge of her younger sisters — they were two — and was
as a second mother to them till her marriage, which took place in 1531,
when the Saint was in her sixteenth year. But as she was too
young to be left in charge of her father's house, and as her education
was not finished, she was sent to the Augustinian monastery, the nuns
of which received young girls, and brought them up in the fear of
God.2 The Saint's own account is that she was too giddy and care
less to be trusted at home, and that it was necessary to put her
under the care of those who would watch over her and correct her
ways. She remained a year and a half with the Augustinian nuns,
and all the while God was calling her to Himself. She was not
willing to listen to His voice; she would ask the nuns to pray for her
that she might have light to see her way; "but for all this," she
writes, "I wished not to be a nun."3 By degrees her will yielded,
and she had some inclination to become a religious at the end of the
eighteen months of her stay, but that was all. She became ill; her
father removed her, and the struggle within herself continued, — on
the one hand, the voice of God calling her; on the other, herself
labouring to escape from her vocation.
' Fr. Anton, de S. Joseph, in his note on letter 16, but letter 41, vol.
iv. ed. Doblado.
2 Reforma de los Descalqos, lib. i. ch. vii. § 3. 3 Ch. iii. § 2.
xxix
XXX PREFACE TO THE LIFE.
At last, after a struggle which lasted three months, she made up
her mind, and against her inclination, to give up the world. She
asked her father's leave, and was refused. She beseiged him through
her friends, but to no purpose. "The utmost I could get from
him," she says, "was that I might do as I pleased after his death."1
How long this contest with her father lasted is not known, but it is
probable that it lasted many months, for the Saint was always most
careful of the feelings of others, and would certainly have endured
much rather than displease a father whom she loved so much, and
who also loved her more than his other children.2
But she had to forsake her father, and so she left her father's
house by stealth, taking with her one of her brothers, whom she
had persuaded to give himself to God in religion. The brother and
sister set out early in the morning, the former for the monastery
of the Dominicans, and the latter for the Carmelite monastery of the
Incarnation in Avila. The nuns received her into the house, but
sent word to her father of his child's escape. Don Alfonso, how
ever, yielded at once, and consented to the sacrifice which he was
compelled to make.
In the monastery of the Incarnation the Saint was led on, with
out her own knowledge, to states of prayer so high that she became
alarmed about herself. In the purity and simplicity of her soul, she
feared that the supernatural visitations of God might after all be
nothing else but delusions of Satan.3 She was so humble, that she
could not believe graces so great could be given to a sinner like
herself. The first person she consulted in her trouble seems to have
been a layman, related to her family, Don Francisco de Salcedo.
He was a married man, given to prayer, and a diligent frequenter
of the theological lectures in the monastery of the Dominicans.
Through him she obtained the help of a holy priest, Gaspar Daza, to
whom she made known the state of her soul. The priest, hindered
by his other labours, declined to be her director, and the Saint
admits that she could have made no progress under his guidance.4
She now placed herself in the hands of Don Francis, who encouraged
her in every way, and, for the purpose of helping her onwards
in the way of perfection, told her of the difficulties he himself
had met with, and how by the grace of God he had overcome them.
But when the Saint told him of the great graces which God
bestowed upon her, Don Francis became alarmed; he could not
reconcile them with the life the Saint was living, according to her
own account. He never thought of doubting the Saint's account,
and did not suspect her of exaggerating her imperfections in the
depths of her humility: "he thought the evil spirit might have some
thing to do" with her,6 and advised her to consider carefully her way
of prayer.
Don Francis now applied again to Gaspar Daza, and the two
friends consulted together; but, after much prayer on their part and on
that of the Saint, they came to the conclusion that she "was deluded
1 Ch. iii. § 9. 3 Ch. i. § 3. 3 Ch. xxiii. § 2. 4 Ch. xxiii. § 9.
8 Id. § 12.
PREFACE TO THE LIFE. XXXI
by an evil spirit," and recommended her to have recourse to the
fathers of the Society of Jesus, lately settled in Avila.
The Saint, now in great fear, but still hoping and trusting that
God would not suffer her to be deceived, made preparations for a
general confession, and committed to writing the whole story of
her life, and made known the state of her soul to F. Juan de
Padranos, one of the fathers of the Society. F. Juan understood it
all, and comforted her by telling her that her way of prayer was
sound and the work of God. Under his direction she made great
progress, and for the further satisfaction of her confessors, and of
Don Francis, who seems to have still retained some of his doubts,
she told every thing to S. Francis de Borja, who on one point
changed the method of direction observed by F. Juan. That father
recommended her to resist the supernatural visitations of the spirit
as much as she could, but she was not able, and the resistance pained
her;1 S. Francis told her she had done enough, and that it was
not right to prolong that resistance.2
The account of her life which she wrote before she applied to the
Jesuits for direction has not been preserved; but it is possible
that it was made more for her own security than for the purpose of
being shown to her confessor.
The next account is Relation I., made for S. Peter of Alcantara,
and was probably seen by many; for that Saint had to defend her,
and maintain that the state of her soul was the work of God, against
those who thought that she was deluded by Satan. Her own con
fessor was occasionally alarmed, and had to consult others, and thus,
by degrees, her state became known to many; and there were some
who were so persuaded of her delusions, that they wished her to be
exorcised as one possessed of an evil spirit,3 and at a later time
her friends were afraid that she might be denounced to the Inquis
itors.4
During the troubles that arose when it became known that the
Saint was about to found the monastery of S. Joseph, and therein
establish the original rule of her Order in its primitive simplicity
and austerity, she went for counsel to the Father Fra Pedro Ibanez,
the Dominican, a most holy and learned priest. That father not
only encouraged her, and commended her work, but also ordered her
to give him in writing the story of her spiritual life. The Saint
readily obeyed, and began it in the monastery of the Incarnation,
and finished it in the house of Dona Luisa de la Cerda, in Toledo,
in the month of June, 1562. On the 24th of August, the feast of
S. Bartholomew, in the same year, the Reform of the Carmelites
began in the new monastery of S. Joseph in Avila.
What the Saint wrote for Fra Ibariez8 has not been found. It is,
1 Ch. xxiv. § 1. 2 Id. § 4.
3 Ch. xxix. § 4. 4 Ch. xxxiii. § 6.
8 The Saint held him in great reverence, and in one of her letters —
lett. 355, but lett. 100, vol. ii. ed. Doblado — calls him a founder of her
Order, because of the great services he had rendered her, and told
XXX11 PREFACE TO THE LIFE.
no doubt, substantially preserved in her Life, as we have it now, and
is supposed to have reached no further than the end of ch. xxxi.
What follows was added by direction of another Dominican father,
confessor of the Saint in the new monastery of S. Joseph, Fra
Garcia of Toledo, who, in 1562, bade her "write the history of that
foundation, and other matters."
But as the Saint carried a heavy burden laid on her by God. a
constant fear of delusion, she had recourse about the same time
to the Inquisitor Soto, who advised her to write a history of her
life, send it to Juan of Avila, the "Apostle of Andalusia," and
abide by his counsel. As the direction of Fra Garcia of Toledo
and the advice of the Inquisitor must have been given, according
to her account, about the same time, the Life, as we have it now,
must have occupied her nearly six years in the writing of it, which
may well be owing to her unceasing care in firmly establishing the
new monastery of S. Joseph. The book at last was sent to Juan
of Avila by her friend Dona Luisa de la Cerda, and that great master
of the spiritual life wrote the following censure of it:
"The grace and peace of Jesus Christ be with you always.
"1. When I undertook to read the book sent me, it was not so
much because I thought myself able to judge of it, as because I
thought I might, by the grace of our Lord, learn something from
the teachings it contains: and praised be Christ: for though I have
not been able to read it with the leisure it requires, I have been
comforted by it, and might have been edified by it, if the fault had
not been mine. And although, indeed, I may have been comforted
by it, without saying more, yet the respect due to the subject and to
the person who has sent it will not allow me, I think, to let it go
back without giving my opinion on it, at least it general.
"2. The book is not fit to be in the hands of everybody, for it is
necessary to correct the language in some places, and explain it in
others; and there are some things in it useful for your spiritual life,
and not so for others who might adopt them, for the special ways by
which God leads some souls are not meant for others. These points,
or the greater number of them, I have marked for the purpose of
arranging them when I shall be able to do so, and I shall not fail to
send them to you; for if you were aware of my infirmities and
necessary occupations, I believe they would make you pity me rather
than blame me for the omission.
"3. The doctrine of prayer is for the most part sound, and you
may rely on it, and observe it; and the raptures I find to possess the
tests of those which are true. What you say of God's way of teach
ing the soul, without respect to the imagination and without interior
locutions, is safe, and I find nothing to object to it. S. Augustine
speaks well of it.
"4. Interior locutions in these days have been a delusion of
her nuns of Seville that they need not be veiled in his presence, though
they must be so in the presence of everybody else, and especially the
friars of the Reform.
PREFACE TO THE LIFE. XXX111
many, and exterior locutions are the least safe. It is easy enough
to see when they proceed from ourselves, but to distinguish between
those of a good and those of an evil spirit is more difficult. There
are many rules given for finding out whether they come from our
Lord or not, and one of them is, that they should be sent us in a
time of need, or for some good end, as for the comforting a man
under temptation or in doubt, or as a warning of coming danger.
As a good man will not speak unadvisedly, neither will God; so, con
sidering this, and that the locutions are agreeable to the holy writings
and the teaching of the Church, my opinion is that the locutions
mentioned in the book came from God.
"5. Imaginary or bodily visions are those which are most doubt
ful, and should in no wise be desired, and if they come undesired
still they should be shunned as much as possible, yet not by treating
them with contempt, unless it be certain that they come from an
evil spirit; indeed, I was filled with horror, and greatly distressed,
when I read of the gestures of contempt that were made.1 People
ought to entreat our Lord not to lead them by the way of visions,
but to reserve for them in heaven the blessed vision of Himself and
the Saints, and to guide them here along the beaten path as He
guides His faithful servants, and they must take other good meas
ures for avoiding these visions.
"6. But if the visions continue after all this is done, and if the
soul derives good from them, and if they do not lead to vanity, but
to deeper humility, and if the locutions be at one with the teaching
of the Church, and if they continue for any time, and that with inward
satisfaction — better felt than described — there is no reason then for
avoiding them. But no one ought to rely on his own judgment
herein; he should make every thing known to him who can give him
light. That is the universal remedy to be had recourse to in such
matters, together with hope in God, who will not let a soul that
wishes to be safe lie under a delusion, if it be humble enough to
yield obedience to the opinion of others.
"7. Nor should any one cause alarm by condemning them forth
with, because he sees that the person to whom they are granted is
not perfect, for it is nothing new that our Lord in His goodness
makes wicked people just, yea, even grievous sinners, by giving
them to taste most deeply of His sweetness. I have seen it so my
self. Who will set bounds to the goodness of our Lord? — espe
cially when these graces are given, not for merit, nor because one is
stronger; on the contrary, they are given to one because he is weaker;
and as they do not make one more holy, they are not always given
to the most holy.
"8. They are unreasonable who disbelieve these things merely
because they are most high things, and because it seems to them
incredible that infinite Majesty humbles Himself to these loving
relations with one of His creatures. It is written God is love, and
if He is love, then infinite love and infinite goodness, and we must
1 See Life, ch| xxix. § 6.
XXXIV PREFACE TO THE LIFE.
not be surprised if such a love and such a goodness breaks out into
such excesses of love as disturb those who know nothing of it. And
though many know of it by faith, still, as to that special experience
of the loving, and more than loving, converse of God with whom He
will, if not had, how deep it reaches can never be known; and so I
have seen many persons scandalised at hearng of what God in His
love does for His creatures. As they are themselves very far away
from it, they cannot think that God will do for others what He is
not doing for them. As this is an effect of love, and that a love
which causes wonder, reason requires we should look upon it as a
sign of its being from God, seeing that He is wonderful in His works,
and most especially in those of His compassion; but they take occa
sion from this to be distrustful, which should have been a ground of
confidence, when other circumstances combine as evidences of these
visitations being good.
''9. It seems from the book, I think, that you have resisted, and
even longer than was right. I think, too, that these locutions have
done your soul good, and in particular that they have made you see
your own wretchedness and your faults more clearly, and amend
them. They have lasted long, and always with spiritual profit.
They move you to love God, and to despise yourself, and to ao
penance. I see no reasons for condemning them. I incline rather to
regard them as good, provided you are careful not to rely altogether
on them, especially if they are unusual, or bid you do something
out of the way, or are not very plain. In all these and the like
cases you must withhold your belief in them, and at once seek for
direction.
"10. Also it should be considered that, even if they do come from
God, Satan may mix with them suggestions of his own; you should
therefore be always suspicious of them. Also, when they are known
to be from God, men must not rest much on them, seeing that holiness
does not lie in them, but in a humble love of God and our neigh
bour: every thing else, however good, must be feared, and our efforts
directed to the gaining of humility, goodness, and the love of our
Lord. It is seemly, also, not to worship what is seen in these visions,
but only Jesus Christ, either as in heaven or in the Sacrament, or,
if it be a vision of the Saints, then to lift up the heart to the Holy
One in heaven, and not to that which is presented to the imagina
tion: let it suffice that the imagination may be made use of for the
purpose of raising me up to that which it makes me see.
"11. I say, too, that the things mentioned in this book befall
other persons even in this our day, and that there is great certainty
that they come from God, whose arm is not shortened that He can
not do now what He did in times past, and that in weak vessels, for
His own glory.
"12. Go on your road, but always suspecting robbers, and asking
for the right way; give thanks to our Lord, who has given you His
love, the knowledge of yourself, and a love of penance and the cross,
making no account of these other things. However, do not despise
them either for there are signs that most of them come from our
PREFACE TO THE LIFE. XXXV
Lord, and those that do not come from Him will not hurt you if you
ask for direction.
"13. I cannot believe that I have written this in my own strength,
for I have none, but it is the effect of your prayers. I beg of
you, for the love of Jesus Christ our Lord, to burden yourself with
a prayer for me; He knows that I am asking this in great need, and
I think that is enough to make you grant my request. I ask your
permission to stop now, for I am bound to write another letter.
May Jesus be glorified in all and by all! Amen.
"Your servant, for Christ's sake,
"JUAN DE AviLA.
"Mantilla, \2th Sept., 1568."
Her confessors, having seen the book, "commanded her to make
copies of it,"1 one of which has been traced into the possession of the
Duke and Duchess of Alva.
The Princess of Eboli in 1569 obtained a copy from the Saint
herself after much importunity; but it was more out of vanity or
curiosity, it is to be feared, than from any real desire to learn the
story of the Saint's spiritual life, that the Princess desired the boon.
She and her husband promised to keep it from the knowledge of
others, but the promise given was not kept. The Saint heard within
a few days later that the book was in the hands of the servants of
the Princess, who was angry with the Saint because she had refused
to admit, at the request of the Princess, an Augustinian nun into the
Order of Carmel in the new foundation of Pastrana. The contents of
the book were bruited abroad, and the visions and revelations of the
Saint were said to be of a like nature with, those of Magdalene of
the Cross, a deluded and deluding nun. The gossip in the house of
the Princess was carried to Madrid, and the result was that the
Inquisition began to make a search for the book.2 It is not quite
clear, however, that it was seized at this time.
The Princess became a widow in July, 1573, and insisted on
becoming a Carmelite nun in the house she and her husband Ruy
Gomez had founded in Pastrana. When the news of her resolve
reached the monastery, the mother-prioress, Isabel of S. Dominic,
exclaimed, "The Princess a nun! I look on the house as ruined."
The Princess came and insisted on her right as foundress; she had
compelled a friar to give her the habit before her husband was
buried, and when she came to Pastrana she began her religious life
by the most complete disobedience and disregard of common pro
priety. Don Vicente's description of her is almost literally correct,
though intended only for a general summary of her most childish
conduct:
"On the death of the Prince of Eboli, the Princess would become a
nun in her monastery of Pastrana. The first day she had a fit of
violent fervour; on the next she relaxed the rule; on the third she
broke it, and conversed with secular people within the cloisters.
1 Rel. vii. § 9.
2 Reforma de los Descalgos, lib. ii. c. xxviii. § 6.
XXXVI PREFACE TO THE LIFE.
She was also so humble that she required the nuns to speak to her
on their knees, and insisted upon their receiving into the house as
religious whomsoever she pleased. Hereupon complaints were made
to S. Teresa who remonstrated with the Princess, and showed her
how much she was in the wrong, whereupon she replied that the
monastery was hers; but the Saint proved to her that the nuns were
not, and had them removed at once to Segovia."1
The nuns were withdrawn from Pastrana in April, 1574, and then
the anger of the Princess prevailed; she sent the Life of the Saint,
which she had still in her possession, to the Inquisition, and de
nounced it as a book containing visions, revelations, and dangerous
doctrines, which the Inquisitors should look into and examine. The
book was forthwith given to theologians for examination, and two
Dominican friars, of whom Banes was one, were delegated censors of
it by the Inquisition.2
Fra Banes did not know the Saint when he undertook her defence
in Avila against the authorities of the city, eager to destroy the
monastery of S. Joseph;3 but from that time forth he was one of her
most faithful friends, strict and even severe, as became a wise director
who had a great Saint for his penitent. He testifies in the process
of her beatification that he was stern and sharp with her; while she
herself was the more desirous of his counsel, the more he humbled
her, and the less he appeared to esteem her.4 When he found that
copies of her Life were in the hands of secular people, — be had
probably also heard of the misconduct of the Princess of Eboli, — he
showed his displeasure to the Saint and told her he would burn the
book, it being unseemly that the writings of women should be made
public. The Saint left it in his hands, but Fra Banes, struck with
her humility, had not the courage to burn it; he sent it to the
Holy Office in Madrid.5 Thus the book was in a sense denounced
twice, — once by an enemy, the second time by a friend, to save it.
Both the Saint and her confessor, Fra Banes, state that the copy
given up by the latter was sent to the Inquisition in Madrid, and
Fra Banes says so twice in his deposition. The Inquisitor Soto
returned the copy to Fra Banes, desiring him to read it, and give his
opinion thereon. Fra Banes did so, and wrote his "censure" of the
book on the blank leaves at the end. That censure still remains, and
is one of the most important, because given during the lifetime of
the Saint, and while many persons were crying out against her.
Banes wished it had been published when the Saint's Life was given
to the world by Fra Luis de Leon; but notwithstanding its value,
1 Introduccion al libro de la Vida, vol. i. p. 3.
2 Jerome Gratian, Lucidario, c. iv.
3 Life, ch. xxxvi. § 15.
4 The Saint says of herself, Rcl. vii. § 18, that "she took the
greatest pains not to submit the state of her soul to any one who she
thought would believe that these things came from God, for she was
instantly afraid that the devil would deceive them both."
5 Rel. vii. § 16.
PREFACE TO THE LIFE. XXXV11
and its being preserved in the book, which is in the handwriting of
the Saint, no one before Don Vicente made it known. It was easy
enough to praise the writings of S. Teresa, and to admit her sanctity,
after her death. Fra Banes had no external help in the applause of
the many, and he had to judge the book as a theologian, and the
Saint as one of his ordinary penitents. What he wrote, he wrote
like a man whose whole life was spent, as he tells us himself, "in
lecturing and disputing."1
That censure is as follows:
"1. This book, wherein Teresa of Jesus, Carmelite nun, and foun
dress of the Barefooted Carmelites, gives a plain account of the state
of her soul, in order to be taught and directed by her confessors, has
been examined by me, and with much attention, and I have not
found any where in it any thing which, in my opinion, is erroneous
in doctrine. On the contrary, there are many things in it highly
edifying and instructive for those who give themselves to prayer.
The great experience of this religious, her discretion also and her
humility, which made her always seek for light and learning in her
confessors, enabled her to speak with an accuracy on the subject of
prayer that the most learned men, through their want of experience,
have not always attained to. One thing only there is about the book
that may reasonably cause any hesitation till it shall be very carefully
examined: it contains many visions and revelations, matters always
to be afraid of, especially in women, who are very ready to believe
of them that they come from God, and to look on them as proofs of
sanctity, though sanctity does not lie in them. On the contrary,
they should be regarded as dangerous trials for those who are
aiming at perfection, because Satan is wont to transform himself
into an angel of light,2 and to deceive souls which are curious and of
scant humility, as we have seen in our day: nevertheless, we must
not therefore lay down a general rule that all revelations and
visions come from the devil. If it were so, S. Paul could not have
said that Satan transforms himself into an angel of light, if the angel
of light did not sometimes enlighten us.
"2. Saints, both men and women, have had revelations, not only
in ancient, but also in modern times; such were S. Dominic, S. Francis,
S. Vincent Ferrer, S. Catherine of Siena, S. Gertrude, and many
others that might be named; and as the Church of God is, and is to
be, always holy to the end, not only because her profession is holi
ness, but because there are in her just persons and perfect in holiness,
it is unreasonable to despise visions and revelations, and condemn
them in one sweep, seeing they are ordinarily accompanied with
much goodness and a Christian life. On the contrary, we should
follow the saying of the Apostle in 1 Thess. v. 19-22: 'Spiritum
nolite extinguere. Prophetias nolite spernere. Omnia [autem] pro-
1 "Como hombre criado toda mi vida en leer y disputar" (De la
Fuente, ii. p. 376).
2 2 Cor. xi. 14.
XXXV111 PREFACE TO THE LIFE.
bate: quod bonum est tenete. Ab omni specie mala abstinete vos/
He who will read S. Thomas on that passage will see how care
fully they are to be examined who, in the Church of God, manifest
any particular gift that may be profitable or hurtful to our neighbour,
and how watchful the examiners ought to be lest the lire of the Spirit
of God should be quenched in the good, and others cowed in the
practices of the perfect Christian li'e.
"3. Judging by the revelations made to her, this woman, even
though she may be deceived in something, is at least not herself a
deceiver, because she tells all the good and the bad so simply, and
with so great a wish to be correct, that no doubt can be made as to
her good intention; and the greater the reason for trying spirits of
this kind, because there are persons in our day who are deceivers
with the appearance of piety, the more necessary it is to defend
those who, with the appearance, have also the reality, of piety. For
it is a strange thing to see how lax and worldly people delight in
seeing those discredited who have an appearance of goodness. God
complained of old, by the Prophet Ezekiel, ch. xiii., of those false
prophets who made the just to mourn, and who flattered sinners
saying: 'Mcerere fccistis cor justi mendaciter, quern Ego non con-
tristavi: et confortastis manus impii.' In a certain sense, this may
be said of those who frighten souls who are going on by the way of
prayer and perfection, telling them that this way is singular and
full of danger, that many who went by it have fallen into delusions,
and that the safest way is that which is plain and common travelled
by all.
"4. Words of this kind, clearly, sadden the hearts of those who
would observe the counsels of perfection in continual prayer, so far as
it is possible for them, and in much fasting, watching, and disciplines;
and, on the other hand, the lax and the wicked take courage and
lose the fear of God, because they consider the way on which they
are travelling as the safer: and this is their delusion, — they call that a
plain and safe road which is the absence of the knowledge and
consideration of the dangers and precipices amidst which we are all
of us journeying in this world. Nevertheless, there is no other
security than that which lies in our knowing our daily enemies, and
in humbly imploring the compassion of God, if we would not be their
prisoners. Besides, there are souls whom God, in a way, constrains
to enter on the way of perfection, and who, if they relaxed in their
fervour, could not keep a middle course, but would immediately fall
into the other extreme of sins, and for souls of this kind it is of the
utmost necessity that they should watch and pray without ceasing;
and, in short, there is nobody whom lukewarmness does not injure.
Let every man examine his own conscience, and he will find this
to be the truth.
"5. I firmly believe that if God for a time bears with the lukewarm,
it is owing to the prayers of the fervent, who are continually crying,
'et ne nos inducas in tentationem.' I have said this, not for the pur
pose of honouring those whom we see walking in the way of contem
plation; for it is another extreme into which the world falls, and a co-
PREFACE TO THE LIFE. XXXIX
vert persecution of goodness, to pronounce those holy forthwith who
have the appearance of it. For that would be to furnish them with
motives for vain-glory, and would do little honour to goodness; on
the contrary, it would expose it to great risks, because, when they
fall who have been objects of praise, the honour of goodness suffers
more than if those people had not been so esteemed. And so I look
upon this exaggeration of their holiness who are still living in the
world to be a temptation of Satan. That we should have a good
opinion of the servants of God is most just, but let us consider them
always as people in danger, however good they may be, and that
their goodness is not so evident that we can be sure of it even now.
''6. Considering myself that what I have said is true. I have
always proceeded cautiously in the examination of this account of
the prayer and life of this nun, and no one has been more incredulous
than myself as to her visions and revelations, — not so, however, as to
her goodness and her good desires, for herein I have had great
experience of her truthfulness, her obedience, mortification, patience,
and charity towards her persecutors, and of her other virtues, which
any one who will converse with her will discern; and this is what
may be regarded as a more certain proof of her real love of God than
these visions and revelations. 1 do not, however, undervalue her
visions, revelations, and ecstasies; on the contrary, I suspect them to
be the work of God, as they have been in others who were Saints.
But in this case it is always safer to be afraid and wary; for if she is
confident about them, Satan will take occasion to interfere, and that
which was once, perhaps, the work of God, may be changed into
something else, and that will be the devil's.
"7. I am of opinion that this book is not to be shown to every one,
but only to men of learning, experience, and Christian discretion.
It perfectly answers the purpose for which it was written, namely,
that the nun should give an account of the state of her soul to those
who had the charge of it, in order that she might not fall into delu
sions. Of one thing I am very sure, so far as it is possible for a man
to be, — she is not a deceiver; she deserves, therefore, for her sincerity,
that all should be favourable to her in her good purposes and good
works. For within the last thirteen years she has, I believe, founded
a dozen monasteries of Barefooted Carmelite nuns, the austerity
and perfection of which are exceeded by none other; of which
they who have been visitors of them, as the Dominican Provincial,
master in theology,1 Fra Pedro Fernandez, the master Fra Her-
nando del Castillo, and many others, speak highly. This is what
I think, at present, concerning the censure of this book, submit
ting my judgment herein to that of Holy Church our mother, and her
ministers.
"Given in the College of S. Gregory, Valladolid, on the sixth day
of July, 1575.
"FRA DOMINGO BANES.
1 The other theologian appointed by the Inquisition, with Fra
Banes to examine the "Life."
xl PREFACE TO THE LIFE.
The book remained in the keeping of the Inquisition, and the
Saint never saw it again. But she heard of it from the Archbishop of
Toledo, Cardinal Quiroga, President of the Supreme Court of the In
quisition, when she applied to him for license to found .a monastery in
Madrid. Jerome of the Mother of God was with her; and heard the
Cardinal's reply. Mis Emi- cnce said he was glad to see her; that a
books of hers had been in the Holy Office for some years, and had been
rigorously examined; that he had read it himself, and regarded it as
containing sound and wholesome doctrine. He would grant the license,
and do whatever he could for the Saint. When she heard this, she
wished to present a petition to the Inquisition for the restitution of her
book; but Gratian thought it better to apply to the Duke of Alba for
the copy which he had, and which the Inquisitors had allowed him to
retain and read. The Duke gave his book to Fra Jerome, who had
copies of it made for the use of the monastery both of men and
women.1
Anne of Jesus, in 1586, founding a monastery of her Order in
Madrid, — the Saint had died in 1584, — made inquiries about the
book, and applied to the Inquisition for it, for she was resolved
to publish the writings of her spiritual mother. The Inquisitors
made no difficulty, and consented to the publication. In this she
was seconded by the Empress Maria, daughter of Charles V. and
widow of Maximilian II., who had obtained one of the copies which
Fra Jerome of the Mother of God had ordered to be made. Fra
Nicholas Doria, then Provincial, asked Fra Luis de Leon, the Augus-
tinian, to edit the book, who consented. He was allowed to com
pare the copy furnished him with the original in the keeping of the
Inquisition; but his edition has not been considered accurate, not
withstanding the facilities given him, and his great reverence for the
Saint. It was published in Salamanca, A. D. 1588.
With the Life of the Saint, Fra Luis de Leon received certain
papers in the handwriting of the Saint, which he published as an
additional chapter. Whether he printed all he received, or merely
made extracts, may be doubtful, but anyhow that chapter is singu
larly incomplete. Don Vicente de la Fuente, from whose edition
(Madrid, 1861, 1862) this translation has been made, omitted the
additional chapter of Fra Luis de Leon, contrary to the practice of
his predecessors But he has done more, for he has traced the para
graphs of that chapter to th^ir sources, and has given us now a col
lection of papers which form almost another Life of the Saint, to
1 This took place in the year 1580, according to the Chronicler of
the Order (Reforma de los Dcscalqos, lib. v. c. xxxvi. § 8); and the
Bollandists (n. 1536) accept his statement. Fra Jerome says he was
Provincial of his Order at the time; and as he was elected only on the
4th of March, 1581, according to the Chronicler and the Bollandists,
it is more likely that the audience granted to them by the Cardinal
took place in 1581.
PREFACE TO THE LIFE. xli
which he has given their old name of Relations,1 the name which
the Saint herself had given them.2 Some of them are usually printed
among the Saint's letters, and portions of some of the others are
found in the Lives of the Saint written by Ribera and Yepes, and in
the Chronicle of the Order; the rest was published for the first time
by Don Vicente: the arrangement of the whole is due to him.
The Relations are ten in the Spanish edition, and eleven in the
translation. The last, the eleventh, has hitherto been left among
the letters, and Don Vicente, seeemingly not without some hesitation,
so left it; but as it is of the like nature with the Relations, it has
now been added to them.
The original text, in the handwriting of the Saint, is preserved
in the Escurial, not in the library, but among the relics of the
Church. Don Vicente examined it at his leisure, and afterwards
found in the National Library in Madrid an authentic and exact
transcript of it, made by order of Ferdinand VI. His edition is,
therefore, far better than any of its predecessors; but it is possible
that even now there may still remain some verbal errors for future
editors to correct. The most conscientious diligence is not a safe
guard against mistakes. F. Boux says that in ch. xxxiv. § 12,
the reading of the original differs from that of the printed editions;
yet Don Vicente takes no notice of it, and retains the common
reading. It is impossible to believe that F. Bouix has stated as a
fact that which is not. Again, in ch. xxxix. § 29, the printed
editions have after the words, "Thou art Mine, and I am thine," "I
am in the habit .... sincerity;" but Don Vicente omits them.. This
may have been an oversight, for in general he points out in his
notes all the discrepancies between the printed editions and the
original text.
A new translation of the Life of S. Teresa seems called for
now, because the original text has been collated since the previous
translations were made, and also because those translations are
exceedingly scarce. The first is believed to be this — it is a small
quarto:
"The Lyf of the Mother Teresa of Jesus, Foundresse of the
Monasteries of the Descalced or Bare-footed Carmelite Nunnes and
Fryers of the First Rule.
"Written by herself at the commaundement of her ghostly father,
and now translated into English out of Spanish. By W. M. of the
Society of Jesus.
"Imprinted in Antwerp by Henry Jaye. Anno MDCXI."
Some thirty years afterwards, Sir Tobias Matthew, S.J., dissatis
fied, as he says, with the former translation, published another, with
the following title; the volume is a small octavo in form:
1 Re forma de los Descalqos, lib. v. c. xxxv. § 4: "Relaciones de su
espiritu."
Xlii PREFACE TO THE LIFE.
"The Flaming Hart, or the Life of the glorious S. Teresa, Founcl-
dresse of the Reformation of the Order of the All-Immaculate Vir
gin Mother, our B. Lady of Mount Carmel.
"This History of her Life was written by the Saint in Spanish,
and is newly translated into English in the year of our Lord God
1642.
'Aut mori aut pati:
Either to dye or else to suffer.' — Chap. xl.
"Antwerpe, printed by Johannes Meursius. Anno MDCXLII."
The next translation was made by Abraham Woodhead, and pub
lished in 1671, without the name of the translator, or of the printer, or
of the place of publication. It is in quarto, and bears the following
title:
"The Life of the Holy Mother S. Teresa, Foundress of the Re
formation of the Discalced Carmelites according to the Primitive
Rule. Printed in the year MDCLXXI."
It is not said that the translation was made from the Spanish,
and there are grounds for thinking it to have been made from the
Italian. Ch. xxxii. is broken off at the end of § 10; and ch. xxxiii.
therefore, is ch. xxxvii. That which is there omitted has been
thrown into the Book of the Foundations, which, in the transla
tion of Mr. Woodhead, begins with § 11 of ch. xxxii. of the Life, as
it also does in the Italian translation. It is due, however, to Mr.
Woodhead to say that he has printed five of the Relations sepa
rately, not as letters, but as what they really are, and with that
designation.
The last translation is that of the Very Reverend John Dalton,
Canon of Northampton, which is now, though twice published, almost
as scarce as its predecessors. The title is:
"The Life of Saint Teresa, written by herself, and translated from
the Spanish by the Rev. John Dalton. London, MDCCCLI."
The present translation — the fifth — has not been made because
the former translations are inaccurate, or in any way unfaithful to
the original; and he who made it cannot refrain from saying, in his
own defence, that it was a task laid upon him by those whom he is
bound to obey, and one that he never would have undertaken of
his own will, partly because of the nature of the subjects of which
the Saint treats, mirabilibus super me, and partly because of the
extreme difficulty of the work.
Septuagesima, 1870.
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
WHEN S. Teresa had taken possession and founded the first monas
tery of her nuns in Avila, August 24, 1562, she was summoned back
to the monastery of the Incarnation, where she had made her pro
fession, for that monastery was thrown into trouble by the act of the
Saint, and the nuns were very angry with her. She was made to
give an account of her conduct, and the provincial was sent for,
before whom she had to make what defence she could: that defence
she made in the presence of the nuns her sisters, and so successfully
that no one was found to blame her. When she had appeased her
sisters she had to meet other troubles: the people of Avila had
been also disturbed, and a new house of religion seemed for the
moment to be an offence to them. The magistrates of the city
resolved to suppress the monastery, but on finding that it was law
fully established with the consent of the bishop they had recourse to
the courts of law. But out of all their efforts nothing came, and the
Saint, with the consent of the provincial, left the monastery of the
Incarnation, and joined her sisters in the new house of S. Joseph.
She went to that house, according to the chronicle of the order,
before the end of the year; but Ribera says, and his account is more
likely to be true, that she did not return before the middle of Lent
1563. Fra Francisco de Santa Maria, the chronicler, rests his state
ment that she went back in December on the expression in the
Prologue to the Foundations, "In the year 1562— the very year in
which this house of S. Joseph in Avila was founded — I was ordered
when in that house, by my confessor, the Dominican friar, father
Garcia of Toledo, to write the history of the foundation of the
monastery." He says that Fra Garcia could not have given her
the commandment to write before she returned to the Incarnation,
because she was summoned thither at once, and was not allowed to
remain the whole day in S. Joseph's: she must therefore, he says,
have left the Incarnation after the summons, and returned to S.
Joseph's before the end of the year.
If it was impossible for Fra Garcia to speak to her on the day of
the foundation, there is no difficulty in supposing that he had spoken
to her frequently during the time she was staying in that house and
making it fit for a monastery. He may have told her to write the
history even before the day of the foundation, for he knew what a
work it was, and had read the history of her life, which she had pre
pared for Fra Pedro Ibanez, her confessor.
But, be that as it may, it was during the first year of her stay in
xliii
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
S. Joseph's that she was ordered by Fra Garcia of Toledo to write the
history of its foundation. It is to Fra Garcia, and to the inquisitor
Don Francisco de Soto y Salazar, afterwards bishop of Salamanca,
whom at this time she consulted, that we are indebted for the history
of her life as we have it at present.1 While rewriting her Life she
was probably busy also wth her treatise on the Way of Perfection,
which was written at the commandment of Father Banes, her con
fessor, and throughout her life her constant friend: that was meant
for the use of her own nuns of S. Joseph's, and has only lately been
published as she first wrote it. It seems, then, that these two books,
with the constitutions of the nuns, were written by her during her
rest in her monastery — in "the most tranquil years of my life," as
she says in the first chapter of the Foundations.
In the year 1560, while still in the monastery of the Incarnation,
the Saint made a vow always to do that which was most perfect and
to the greater glory of God. Father Ribera2 says he never heard of
any saint who had made such a vow. Her confessors in 1565, Fra
Garcia and Fra Antonio de Heredia, Carmelite and prior of Avila,
considering that the vow thus general was a possible source of
scruples, recommended her to apply to the provincial, Fra Angel de
Salazar, to make it void, and allow her to renew it in another form
which should be less an occasion of scruples than the form in which
she had so heroically made it. The Saint, always obedient to her con
fessors, made the application at once, and Fra Angel, then in Toledo,
issued his commission in this form: —
"Fra Angel de Salazar, provincial of the province of Castille, of
the order of our Lady of Carmel, &c.
"By this present writing we authorise and appoint the most
reverend the father prior of our house of Carmel in Avila, and the
most reverend Fra Garcia of Toledo of the order of S. Dominic, and
either of them, having first administered the sacrament of penance
and confession to our most dearly beloved sister Teresa of Jesus,
mother of the nuns of S. Joseph's, to release her from any vow she
may have made, or to commute it as to them it shall seem best for
the service of our Lord, and for the quieting of the conscience of our
sister aforesaid. We grant them hereby our authority, and the
power we possess in virtue of our office and ministry. Done in
Toledo, March 2, 1565.
"FRA ANGEL DE SALAZAR."
The Saint, having received the sanction of the provincial, gave
his letter to Fra Garcia, who executed his commission, and on the
back of the letter wrote thus: —
"I have heard your confession according to the directions of the
father provincial herein contained and for the peace and quiet of
1 See Relation, vii. §§ 8, 9, at the end of the Life.
2 Lib. iv. ch. 10.
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS. xlv
your conscience and of that of your confessors — which is one and the
same thing — I make void and of none effect the vow you have made,
in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti Amen."
Fra Garcia having released her from the obligations of her
vow, the Saint was at liberty to renew it in another form, but
subject to three conditions necessary to its validity. The Saint
when in doubt was to consult her confessor, and having done so
was to follow his advice, in order to avoid all scruples on his part as
well as on hers. The vow, therefore, was binding on her under these
three conditions, and not otherwise: — The first, the fact of the vow
was to be made known to the confessor; the second, she was to ask
his direction; the third, he was to tell what was the most perfect
course. She seems also to have made another vow, that of perfect
obedience to Fra Jerome of the Mother of God. This she made
about ten years after the commutation of her great vow by Fra
Garcia, when she was on her way to Seville to make the foundation
there; but it does not appear from her account of it that she made it
known to Fra Jerome.
In the fourth year of her residence in the monastery of S. Joseph,
the general of the order, Fra Giovanni Battista Rossi arrived in
Spain. The sovereign pontiff, at the request of the king, Don
Philip II., had commanded him to make his visitation. The general
was a man of great sanctity and simplicity, humble and generous,
but his friars were not all like himself; the fathers in Andalusia
especially were wedded to their lax observances, and made more or
less resistance to his decrees; they also spread abroad certain stories,
probably of his excessive severity, which were carried to the king,
who, believing what he was told, conceived a dislike to the general, and
even showed his displeasure. The general, however, persevered and
did all he could do for the reform of his order; but he seems to have
had but little hopes of the province of Andalusia, and would not
allow S. Teresa to found monasteries in it.
S. Teresa in her monastery was under the jurisdiction of the
bishop of Avila, and the general of her order, because of the pro
vincial's refusal to accept it, therefore had no right to intermeddle
in her affairs, and those of her nuns, though they were Carmelites
and observed the rule. But the Saint never intended to withdraw
from under the authority of the general, and her present position,
though brought about by most lawful means, was a position which
she would have avoided with her whole heart if she had under
stood the effects of what had been done for the foundation of her
monastery. So when she heard of the general's arrival she began
to be afraid she might have been ordered back to her old home, or
cut off from the order, for she had founded her house without the
consent of her immediate superiors, and had placed it under the
jurisdiction of the bishop of the diocese. She met her difficulties
at once, and in the simplest way: with the permission of the bishop,
who was her superior, she invited the general to visit her, and on
his arriving received him as if she were still his subject. The bishop
xlvi PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
had most generously waived his rights in favour of the general,
who was received in all honour as if he were the superior of the
house of S. Joseph.
As usual, she was frank and open with the general, and made
known to him the whole history of the foundation, and at the same
time her own inner life. The general was pleased exceedingly, but
none the less sorry that such a nun was no longer his subject. The
order of the house and the piety of the community filled his soul
with joy, but the house was not his, and he could not hide his
sorrow.
The general found no fault with the Saint, however, but he was
very angry with the provincial, whose faintheartedness had robbed
the order of such a house. Two nuns had left the monastery of the
Incarnation with S. Teresa, and the three, being his subjects, had
become subjects of the bishop, but without his knowledge and with
out his leave. It was a pain to the good man, and he asked for the
brief by which the transfer of obedience had been made. This was
shown him at once, and he on reading it saw that it did not touch his
authority as general and visitor apostolic. He did not regard it as
binding on him, nor was it, for none of the superiors of the order had
been called to consent or object to the transfer of the Saint's obe
dience. Her vow still subsisted, and so he told the Saint that she
was still his subject, and that he had power to receive her back into
the order if she wished to return. The Saint most joyfully accepted
the offer, for she had never intended to leave it, and was received
back, the general comforting her at the same time by saying that
he would never force her to return to the monastery of the Incar
nation, where the observance had become lax; and that none in author
ity under him should, as her immediate superiors, be allowed to do
so at any time.
The general was glad when he recovered the Saint, but the
bishop of Avila was extremely displeased, and spoke in some anger
about the change. As he had been so good a friend, and had con
sented to the foundation when her own provincial had refused it, she
felt that her act bore the semblance of ingratitude. She was there
fore deeply distressed, and the pain of the bishop's displeasure was
very keen. In a little time, however, the bishop, seeing her distress
and humility, and considering also that under the circumstances she
cou'd hardly have done otherwise, was pacified, and continued from
that day forth to befriend her and the order in every way he could,
and to the utmost of his power. The general made many visits to
the monastery of S. Joseph, and discussed grave affairs of the order
with the Saint. She herself, burning with the love of souls, made
known to him her chief desire — the foundation of a house where the
friars should live under the primitive rule. The general would have
been glad to see such a house established, but he saw the difficulties
before him in the opposition of his subjects, and counselled delay.
He did not refuse his consent absolutely, nor would he allow the
reform to proceed without conditions: accordingly, to satisfy the
Saint, he gave her leave to found monasteries of nuns, but subject
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS. xlvii
to the order. This was a matter, it seems, of which S. Teresa had
never thought: she had never intended to do more than found her
own house, wherein she could sanctify herself in the strict observ
ance of the primitive rule. But she gladly accepted the permission,
though, as she says, "I did not ask for it," and saw in that permission
the way to obtain what at the time she had more at heart — the
foundation of monasteries of friars keeping the primitive rule.
The first commission given her was dated Avila, April 27, 1567.
She was authorised to found monasteries of nuns in the kingdom of
Castille, and might take any two sisters willing to go from the
Incarnation for each of them. This done the general left Avila for
Madrid, and thence on May 16 sent the Saint another letter in
explanation of the first. Doubts, he said, might be raised about the
words "kingdom of Castille," which means either Old or New Cas
tille. To remove all difficulties, the general said that by the "king
dom of Castille" he meant both the Old and the New, and that the
Saint was to be allowed to make foundations wherever she pleased
within the borders of that kingdom: the only restraint upon her was
that the monasteries must be all under the obedience of the order,
and no foundations must be made in Andalusia.
Though the general went away from Avila without giving his
assent to the petition of S. Teresa, as she wished it to be done — for
he seems to have done no more than promise to do so — she was not
discouraged, and by letter earnestly begged of him to found a house
of reformed friars. This letter was delivered to him when he was in
Valencia, in which place, on the 14th day of August, the general
authorised S. Teresa to found two monasteries of friars wherein the
primitive rule should be observed as it was in her own monastery of
S. Joseph in Avila.
The Saint received the licence of the general when she was in
Medina del Campo, making the foundation there, and "always think
ing of monasteries of friars" (ch. iii. § 15). But in thus think
ing she was not alone: there were two friars of her order in Medina
at the time to whom God had granted the same desires, and who,
like herself, did not know how to carry them into effect — Fra
Antonio de Heredia, no longer young, and Fra Juan of S. Mathias,
in the twenty-sixth year of his age, and newly made priest. The
former she was acquainted with already, for he was prior of the
Carmelite house in Avila when she was living in S. Joseph's. He
too had been called to a stricter life than was that then lived by his
brethren, and had serious thoughts of leaving the order and becoming
a Carthusian. The Saint dissuaded him from this, and on his yielding
to her requests asked him to wait awhile, and test himself by leading
a stricter life among his brethren according to the primitive rule;
for, though she was glad to find even one friar who gave promise of
better things, she had not much confidence in Fra Antonio, who had
»rown old in the order, and was, she feared, unequal to the austeri
ties which she intended to revive.
Fra Antonio took the advice of the Saint, and began to make
trial of the new life which he was afterwards to live. The bodily
Xlviii PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
austerities were probably not the least of his trials: his brethren,
knowing the resolution he had taken, began to torment him; they
said he was about to insult the whole order that he might make
himself a name; that he wished to bring in novelties and disturb the
friars as mother Teresa had disturbed the nuns; that he was seeking
worldly advancement — he who never merited any in his own order;
that he made a pretence of zeal for selfish ends, and was despising
others who were better than he was; that he was setting himself up
against his superiors who never thought of doing what he was pur
posing to do, and who were far wiser than he. Fra Antonio never
theless persevered, and bore all contradiction in peace, and "the
persecution of evil tongues" (ch. iii. 15) never shook his good reso
lution.
The other friar was Fra Juan of S. Mathias, afterwards and now
known as S. Juan of the Cross. He had been received into the
order in the house of S. Anne in Medina del Campo in the year 1563,
when he was about twenty-one years of age, and had made his pro
fession in the same house in 1564, Fra Angel de Salazar being the
provincial. In the course of the latter year he was sent to the Car
melite college in Salamanca, then known as the college of S. Andrew
the Apostle, but afterwards as the college of S. Teresa. Having
there finished his course of theology, and being of the age of twenty-
five, he was ordained priest. His superiors sent him back to the
house of the order in Medina, where he had been professed, to sing
his first mass, partly for the sake of giving pleasure to his mother, who
was a widow, and he was there when S. Teresa was occupied with her
own foundation of the monastery of her nuns.
He had come to Medina del Campo with another friar, Pedro de
Orozco, through whom S. Teresa heard of him, and of his longing to
become a Carthusian; for he too had the same wish as Fra Antonio,
and had not kept it a secret from his companion. Fra Pedro, knowing
that S. Teresa wished to have houses of friars who observed the primi
tive rule, went to her and spoke of his companion Fra Juan. The
Saint was so much pleased with the account of him given her by Fra
Pedro that she longed to see him, being fully persuaded that he
was the very man whom our Lord had destined for her work. She
spent the night in prayer, earnestly beseeching our Lord to give her
Fra Juan, like Rachel, who prayed for children.
Fra Pedro asked his companion to visit the Saint in her monas
tery, but to no purpose, for he would not converse with women if he
could avoid it. By dint of importunity, however, Fra Pedro prevailed
at last, and the visit was made. It resulted in Fra Juan's pro
mising to begin the reform, provided the Saint made no long delay,
for he was bent at the time on making himself a Carthusian at the
first opportunity.
S. Teresa now felt that her work was safe, for she had two friars,
or, as she said, a friar and a half, for Fra Antonio was a portly per
sonage, while S. John of the Cross was thin and low of stature.
Accordingly, in about twelve months from that time the first of the
two houses which the general had authorised her to found was begun
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS. xlix
in great poverty, in Duruelo, the first conventual mass being said
there on the first Sunday in Advent 1568, and three monasteries
of nuns, subject to the general of the order, having been then
founded — Medina del Campo, Malagon and Valladolid. The first house
of S. Teresa, S. Joseph's in Avila, was not subject to the order, though
the Saint herself was, but to the bishop of the diocese, Don Alvaro
de Mendoza.
S. Teresa seems to have proceeded with as much care and caution
as were possible in this foundation of Duruelo, in order to avoid any
difficulties that the friars might make who were not disposed to
accept her reform. The latter at first were probably more or less
indifferent, and perhaps somewhat blind, to the results to be naturally
expected from the lowly beginnings made in Duruelo. None of them
seem to have been disturbed, for the general in Rome had not heard
of the foundation in the beginning of February, 1569. On the 8th
of that month and year the father-general of the order wrote a letter
to the nuns of Medina del Campo, in which, after saying of S. Teresa
that she "is doing more for the order than all the friars in Spain,"
he asks for information about the two monasteries of men, and would
be glad to hear that they had been founded.1
The second of the two houses was, however, founded in the
course of the year, on July 13, in Pastrana.
S. Teresa, having founded the two houses of friars according to
the permssion of the general, gives no account herself of the other
houses which were founded afterwards, and which were fifteen in
number. She had probably less to do with them than with the
monasteries of nuns, though she was not unconcerned in them.
She founded and directed seventeen monasteries of nuns in the
course of twenty years, yet of those years five years all but nine
days were spent tranquilly in her first monastery of S. Joseph in
Avila, and for four years and nearly two months besides her work
was hindered by the troubles of the order, and very nearly so before
that by her being compelled to accept the government of the monastery
of the Incarnation, wherein she had made her profession, and which
did not belong to her reform. The monasteries of friars founded in
her lifetime were these: —
1. Duruelo 28 Nov., 1568.... ch. xiv. § 5.
2. Pastrana 13 July, 1569.... ch. xvii. § 13.
3. Mancera 11 June, 1570.... ch. xiv. § 8.
4. Alcala de Henares 1 Nov., 1570.... Reforma, lib. ii. ch. xliii. § 5.
5. Altomira 24 Nov., 1571.... ib. ch. liv. § 3.
6. La Roda — April, 1572.... ib. lib. iv. ch. xvi. § 4.
7. Granada 19 May, 1573.... ib. lib. iii. ch. iv. § 10.
8. Penuela 29 June, 1573.... ib. ch. x. § 2.
9. Seville 5 Jan., 1574.... ib. ch. xxiii. § 8.
10. Almodovar 7 March, 1575 ib. ch. xxxv. § 5.
11. Mount Calvary
(Corenguela) — Dec., 1576.... ib. ch. Hi. § 4.
1 Reforma de los Descalqos, lib. ii. ch. viii. § 2.
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
12. Baelza 14 June 1579.... ib. lib. iv. ch. xliv. § 4.
13. Valladolicl 4 May, 1581.... ib. lib. v. ch. xiii. § 2.
14. Salamanca 1 June, 1581.... ib. ch. xvii. § 3.
15. Lisbon 19 Feb., 1582.... ib. ch. xxiv. § 3.
Of these monasteries two were abandoned for a time; the friars
removed from Duruelo to Mancera, and from Penuela to Mount Cal
vary or Corenguela, but they returned to both places afterwards.
The monasteries of the nuns were these: —
1. A vila 24 August, 1562 Life, ch. xxxv. § 4.
2. Medina del Campo 15 August, 1567 Foundations, ch. iii. § 8.
3. Malagon 11 April, 1568 ib. ch. ix. § 5.
4. Valladolid 15 August, 1568 ib. ch. x. § 6.
5. Toledo 14 May, 1569.... ib. ch. x. § 10, note.
6. Pastrana 9 July, 1569.... Reforma, lib. ii. ch. xxviii. § 7.
7/ Salamanca 1 Nov., 1570.... Foundations, ch. xix. § 2.
8. Alba de Tonnes 25 Jan., 1571.... ib. ch. xx. § 12.
9. Segovia 19 March, 1574 ib. ch. xxi. § 4.
10. Veas 25 Feb., 1575.... ib. ch. xxii. § 4.
11. Seville 29 May, 1575.... ib. ch. xxiv. § 12.
12. Caravaca 1 Jan., 1576.... ib. ch. xxvii. § 7.
13. Villanueva de la
Jara 21 Feb., 1580.... ib. ch. xxviii. § 31.
14. Palencia 29 Dec., 1580.... ib. ch. xxix. § 8.
15. Soria 3 June, 1581.... ib. ch. xxx. § 8.
16. Granada 20 Jan., 1582.... Reforma, lib. v. ch. xxiii. § 4.
17. Burgos 22 April, 1582.... Foundations, ch. xxxi. § 41.
But two of these foundations were made in the absence of the
Saint. That of Caravaca was made when she was in Seville, unable to
leave her sisters because of the straits they were in. She, however,
made all the necessary preparations, and chose the nuns who were to
live there. That of Granada was made by Anne of Jesus with the help
of S. John of the Cross, S. Teresa being at the time unable to make the
journey because of the foundation to be made in Burgos. She
however, chose the nuns to be sent with Anne of Jesus, and, among
others, gave her Antonia of the Holy Ghost, one of the four nuns who
took the habit in S. Joseph's when that house was founded in 1562.
In the year 1571, when she was engaged in Salamanca making
and strengthening her foundation there, she was withdrawn from her
own immediate work, and sent as prioress, by order of her superiors,
to the monastery of the Incarnation in Avila, the house in which
she had made her profession, but which she had left, as she thought,
never to return to it, for her own foundation of S. Joseph's house in
the same city. The apostolic visitor, Fra Pedro Fernandez, of the
order of S. Dominic, seeing the desolate state of that house, knew of
no means of relief except that of sending the Saint back to it. He
consulted with the superiors of the order, and then, with their full
consent, but on his own authority, and in virtue of the power he had,
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS. 11
laid on S. Teresa, without consulting the nuns, the heavy burden of
being their prioress.
The monastery of the Incarnation had not been founded in
poverty, yet it was more poor than the poorest of those which S.
Teresa was founding. It was so poor that it could not give the nuns
food enough to sustain them, and the result was that they asked for
leave to go to their kindred from time to time to escape from the
inconveniences of hunger. Fra Pedro Fernandez, the apostolic visitor,
seeing the sad state to which the monastery had been brought, deter
mined to make an effort to save it, and succeeded, for the Saint's
administration of it, both temporally and spiritually, answered all
his expectations, and made the monastery what, perhaps, it had never
been before, though it had been the nursing-mother of many holy souls,
and among them S. Teresa herself.
This famous monastery had been founded in the year 1513. by
Dona Elvira de Medina, and mass was said in it for the first time in
1515, April 4th, the day on which S. Teresa was baptized. It stood
outside the city, and was a fine and handsome house, with large gardens,
and abundantly supplied with water. In 1550, according to the history
of Fra Francis de Santa Maria, lib. i. c. ix. § 1, the house held one
hundred and ninety nuns; and the Saint herself, in a letter written by
her towards the close of the year 15£0, or in the beginning of 1531,
says that she lived for five-and-twenty years in a monastery wherein
there were a hundred and eighty nuns.1 But the poverty of the house
and the lax observance were an evil, nor could the Saint shut her eyes
to its disadvantage when she was living in it, though she made every
excuse for it in her power,2 and had a strong affection for it.
In the beginning of July, 1571, the Saint knew of her appoint
ment, but was most unwilling to accept the charge laid upon her:3
our Lord upbraided her for holding back, and then she yielded.
In October she went from her own house in Avila, having first
renounced for herself, July 13, all the exemptions and mitigations
which were in force in the monastery to which she was going. She
had done so before, and now, for the greater security of her con
science, she repeats her resolution to observe the primitive rule in all
its severity. On the 6th of October Fra Pedro, the apostolic visitor,
accepts in Medina the act of renunciation, and releases the Saint from
all obligations of conforming to the laxer observances then prevailing
in the monastery of the Incarnation, as well as in the others of the
order.
The nuns of the Incarnation were greatly troubled when they
heard that the new prioress was coming without their consent, and
in violation of their customs. They had not elected her, and they
had not been asked to do so, neither would they have elected her if
the visitor had allowed them to choose their prioress, as they had
1 Lett. 308; but 48 of vol. 2 ed. Doblado. In 1567 there were more
than a hundred and fifty. See Foundations, ii. 1.
2 Life, ch. xxxii. § 12.
3 See Relation iii. § 11.
Ill PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
hitherto done. In their distress and alarm they sent for all their
friends and acquaintance among seculars, made their complaints,
and besought them to help them, now that they were to be placed
under the authority of a nun who would put a stop to their innocent
recreations and multiply their austerities. All this was known to
the Saint and she accepted her cross. The visitor apostolic, not
ignorant of the trouble in the house, ordered the provincial to attend
the Saint on the day of her taking possession, in order, if possible,
to keep the peace.
The provincial, Fra Angel de Salazar, with his fellow, went to the
monastery, and, having assembled the sisters in chapter, read to them
the letter of the visitor which announced to them that he had made
Teresa of Jesus their prioress. There arose at once a cry of distress
from the nuns, who regarded themselves as given over to an enemy;
some said they would never obey her, and others reviled her; she in
the mean time being on her knees before the Most Holy on the altar.
All the nuns, however, were not so foolish, and the wise virgins, so
soon as the letter had been read, took up the cross, and, chanting the
Te Dcum, went forth to receive their prioress. The trouble and dis
turbance were so great that some of the nuns fainted through the
violence of their distress. The Saint went among them and gently
touched them: all in a moment recovered their senses and their rea
son, and offered no further resistance to her.
Others, however, still remained obstinate in their rebellion, and
bent on disobedience to the last; but the Saint was patient and gentle,
and exercised her authority as if she had none; neveretheless she
intended to be obeyed, and acordingly on the first chapter day the
nuns on entering the room saw the image of our Lady in the seat of
the prioress, and S. Teresa sitting at her feet. The rebellious nuns
were struck by a heavenly terror, and changed their minds: all signs
and all desires of disobedience vanished, and the Saint was obeyed
as prioress with as much readiness and affection as if she had been
chosen by them of their own free will. From that day forth the nuns
of the Incarnation gave no trouble to the prioress, and the abuses of
the house were all corrected: though under the mitigated observance,
which was never changed, the nuns lived as if they were under the
reform of S. Teresa; their temporal and spiritual necessities, hitherto
so great and serious, were at once supplied; and the seed of good,
sown in such good soil, grew and bore fruit so abundantly that the
monastery of the Incarnation became from that day forth one of the
pearls of the old observance.
She remained in the monastery of the Incarnation, the spiritual
direction of which she had given to S. John of the Cross, for nearly
two years.
In 1573 Anne of Jesus begged the visitor apostolic to allow her
to visit the monastery in Salamanca, which was still in trouble, and
the nuns were without a church in which the Most Holy dwelt. Fra
Pedro Fernandez gave the desired permission, and the Saint, who
was in the monastery of the Incarnation July 29th of this year, made
her preparations for her return to Salamanca, to make the final
arrangements about her monastery there, and which she had not been
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS. liii
able to make in 1571, when she was called away by some difficulties in
Medina, and thence to Avila. She was in Salamanca on the 2nd of
August, and on the 24th day of that month began there to write the
history of the Foundations, at the request of her confessor, father
Ripalda of the Society of Jesus.
The three years of her priorate in the Incarnation came to an end,
October 6, 1574, on which day, to the great sorrow of the nuns, she
left that house for her own monastery in Avila. All this time the
storm was gathering which threatened to ruin her reform, and during
which her patience was tried in the furnace of persecution.
The story of that persecution is briefly this. In August, 1569,
His Holiness S. Pius V. made two Dominican friars visitors apos
tolic for four years of the Spanish Carmelites — Fra Pedro Fernandez
visitor of Castille, and Fra Francisco de Vargas visitor of Anda
lusia. Their authority was greater than that of the general of the
order, because they were the delegates of the sovereign Pontiff, and
that was the reason why the authority of the general during the
progress of the reform seemed to be overlooked. S. Teresa had
received authority from the general to found only two monasteries of
friars, but in the province of Castille, and not in Andalusia. As
the visitors apostolic were not bound by that prohibition, nor were the
friars, these were now subject to the visitors by a decree of the Sover
eign Pontiff. The visitors had instructions to correct and amend what
was amiss, and, being desirous to reform the order, they not only
did not regard that prohibition, but encouraged the growth of the
reform of S. Teresa. So when Duruelo and Pastrana had been
founded, whereby the powers which the general had given to S. Teresa
were exhausted, the apostolic visitors threw their sickle into the
harvest, and the foundations of Altomira, La Roda, Granada, and
Penuela were made before their commission expired. Alcala de
Henares had been founded with the consent of the general. The friars
of the old observance were more or less jealous, but they bore for a
time with seeming patience what many of them regarded as inno
vations, if not as something worse.
The prior of Pastrana, the second house of the reform, was Bal-
tasar of Jesus, Nieto. He had quitted the old observance for the
primitive rule. As he was originally from the province of Andalusia,
the visitor apostolic there, Fra Francisco de Vargas, wrote to him
and begged him to return to Andalusia, there to begin the reform.
Fra Baltasar could not do so at the time, and the visitor was satisfied
with the reasons he gave. But not long after one of the friars in
Pastrana, Fra Diego de Santa Maria — he too had been once a friar of
the old observance — was sent to Granada, his native place, on some
affair of the order, and with him, as his fellow, Fra Ambrose of
S. Peter, not yet ordained priest. The two friars, when they arrived
in Cordova, presented themselves, as they were bound to do, before
their superior, Fra Francisco de Vargas, the visitor apostolic and
prior of the Dominicans there. By him they were told that they
were under his authority — they were in his province — and that he
llV PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
would employ them in founding a house of barefooted friars in Anda
lusia. Fra Diego represented his case as well as he could, and
begged the visitor not to force him to do an act which would be re
garded as a wrong to his superior, the apostolic visitor in Castille,
with whose leave, for quite other ends, he had come into the province
of Andalusia. Father Vargas said he would arrange the matter with
his brother visitor, and Fra Diego must remain under his obedience,
and begin the reform of S. Teresa within his jurisdiction. He offered
the two friars either of two houses of the old observances to be used
for the purpose, and they, thus compelled, accepted the smaller of the
two, San Juan del Puerto. The house was given up to them by the pro
vincial of the order, Fra Augustin Suarez, and was taken possession of
in due form in the end of October, or in the beginning of November,
1572, S. Teresa being at the time prioress of the Incarnation in Avila.
In the next year, in 1573, Fra Baltasar of Jesus, prior of Pastrana,
went to Andalusia with the leave of his provincial, Fra Angel cle
Salazar. The prince Ruy Gomez, duke of Pastrana, being in the
secret, had applied to the provincial for the permission; he had some
matter to communicate to his son-in-law, the duke of Medina Sidonia,
and wished Fra Baltasar to be his messenger. Fra Baltasar there
fore went with the prince to Illescas, whither the latter proceeded in
order to fulfil a vow made in his late illness, and from that place
sent to Pastrana and Altomira for those fathers there who had
abandoned the mitigation for the reform, and sent them by two and
two together, to avoid suspicion, to Andalusia, and with directions to
remain apart as if they knew nothing of the others. Meanwhile he
and Fra Gabriel of the Conception went together to Granada, where
they were well received. The apostolic visitor was glad to see them,
and gave them a house hitherto possessed by the friars of the miti
gation.
Fra Francisco de Vargas, the visitor, having Fra Baltasar within
his jurisdiction at last, transferred to him the powers he had received
from the Holy See, and made him visitor in his place, with authority
over all the houses of the reform made or to be made in Andalusia;
he also gave him power to receive novices, but none of them were to
belong to the old observance without the consent of the provincial.
This was done April 28, 1573, and on May 19th and June 29th the two
houses of Granada and Penuela were founded in the province of
Andalusia.
Now, the friars of the old observance were not a little troubled at
these proceedings; two of their own houses had been taken from
them, and given to certain of their brethren, who were by the lives
they led reproaching them with laxness, and whom, therefore, they
considered, on the whole, as wanting in prudence. They had them
selves grown old in the order under the mitigated rule, and disliked
the changes which were made. They complained, and their com
plaints could not be kept secret from the visitor apostolic. Fra
Francisco de Vargas saw that their complaining was not wholly
unreasonable, and thinking that some of their vexation might be
lessened by bringing into Andalusia friars who had never made
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS. Iv
profession under the relaxed observance, asked Fra Mariano of S.
Benedict" — his letter to him is dated May 20, 1573 — to come to
Andalusia, bringing with him certain friars who had made their
profession in the reform, and who therefore did not belong to the
old observance. The vistor believed that the friars who had aban
doned the mitigation for the reform were less esteemed by their
brethren whom they had forsaken than the new friars, and that the
latter would win by their conduct that esteem and reverence which
the former had lost.
Fra Mariano, when he received the visitor's letter, was in Madrid,
in attendance on Ruy Gomez, who was on his deathbed. They were
old friends, and when the news of that illness was brought to Penuela,
where Fra Baltasar was detained by certain matters to be settled
there, he hastened to Madrid, and met Fra Mariano there, discharging
those duties which Fra Baltasar would have had to discharge if he
had not been so far away.
Fra Mariano consented, and made his preparations for the journey
to Andalusia, and chose for his companion Fra Jerome of the Mother
of God, who had made his profession in Pastrana, March 25th of that
year. Fra Baltasar did not intend to return to Andalusia, and went
back from Madrid to his own house of Pastrana, where, on the 4th
of August, he transferred to Fra Jerome, the companion of Mariano,
the powers he had received from the apostolic visitor, Fra Francisco
de Vargas. But, as Fra Baltasar was not visitor of Castille, he could
not send his delegate to Andalusia, who in Castille was under the
jurisdiction of Fra Pedro Fernandez, the visitor of the order in that
province. Fra Mariano had some affairs of his own to look after in
Andalusia, which he had not settled when he entered the order
in 1569, and now wished to do what he had not done then: this
became a reason for asking of his superior permission to go to
Andalusia. It was not thought prudent to inform the visitor of
Castille of that which was about to be done, for he would never
consent to allow the friars Mariano and Jerome of the Mother of
God to leave his province: he was also unwilling to found more
houses, because he wished to strengthen and improve those already
founded, rather than waste, as he considered it, the means provided
for that end.
Under these conditons Fra Mariano applied to the provincial,
Fra Angel de Salazar, for leave to go to Andalusia, giving as his
reason, which was certainly true, the necessity of arranging some
affairs of his own, but saying nothing of the other reason — the prop
agation of the reform in Andalusia. Fra Angel, having no suspicion
of any other purpose, readily consented, thinking also perhaps that,
as Fra Mariano was only a layman at this time, the friars would
hardly send him on any mission of importance, even though he was
to go in company with another friar. The provincial had been asked
to allow him to choose a companion, and that also the provincial
allowed, without inquiring who that companion was to be.
1 See note 1 to ch. xvii. § 6.
v PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
The licence of the provincial thus obtained, Fra Jerome of the
Mother of God and Fra Mariano left in the beginning of September,
1573, when S. Teresa was in Salamanca. They made their way to
Toledo to see Fra Antonio of Jesus. Fra Antonio, .though of the
reform of S. Teresa, was then prior of the Carmelite monastery there
of the old observance, having been appointed to that office by the
visitor apostolic, Fra Pedro Fernandez. They were detained there
because Fra Antonio was at the time absent from his monastery
making arrangements for the house which was fo inded in Almo-
dovar in 1575. While staying there Fra Mariano received the com
mandment of the father-general to be ordained; he tried to excuse him
self — he had entered the order intending to remain a lay brother — but
Fra Jerome persuaded him to obey, and accordingly, having received
the minor orders, he was made sub-deacon on Ember Saturday. The
two friars now hastened to Andalusia, afraid of being overtaken by
a messenger from the provincial, who, they thought, might suspect
their purpose as soon as he heard of the ordination of Fra Mariano.
They arrived safely in Granada, and presented themselves before the
visitor apostolic, Fra Francisco de Vargas, Dominican provincial.
The heart of the visitor was made glad by their arrival, and by the
ordination of Fra Mariano. He observed them narrowly for a few
days, and then, convinced by what he had seen that Fra Jerome had
great gifts which ought to be used in the service of the order, and
for the greater glory of God who had given them to him, he made
him his own delegate and substitute, vesting him with all the powers
which he had himself received from the Sovereign Pontiff. . Accord
ingly Fra Jerome became, not the visitor and superior of the friars
of the reform only, as was Fra Baltasar, but of the friars of the miti
gation also, in the province of Andalusia.
Fra Jerome resisted with all his might at first, but he yielded in the
end, and Fra Mariano, whom in Toledo he had persuaded to receive
holy orders, now, by way of retribution, urged him to accept the bur
den. He submitted to the visitor, but it was agreed between them
that for the present the matter should be kept secret. The secret
could not be long kept, for Fra Angel de Salazar's suspicions had been
roused by the ordination of Fra Mariano, and his choice of Fra Jerome
as his companion. The two friars therefore received an order while
in Granada to return forthwith to Pastrana, under pain of being held
as disobedient and rebellious friars. They replied to the provincial
that they were ready and willing to obey, but could not because they
were under the jurisdiction of the visitor of Andalusia: in fact, Fra
Jerome was now above the provincial of Castille, and no longer subject
to his authority, but for the present he refrained from saying so.
The friars of the old observance knew nothing of the delegation
of the authority of the visitor, who, to make matters safe, and to
insure Fra Jerome in his dignity, gave him also the original letters
of the Pope. Armed therewith, Fra Jerome and Fra Mariano went
to Seville, and were well received in the house of the friars of
the mitigation, where Fra Vincent of the Trinity was prior. There
they met the provincial of Andalusia, Fra Augustin Suarez, to whom
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS. Ivii
Fra Jerome showed his commission from the visitor to govern the
friars of the reform, but not his commission to visit and reform the
friars of the mitigation: of that he said nothing. He then told the
provincial that he meant to restore at once the house of San Juan
del Puerto to those who held it before the visitor gave it to the
reform. The provincial was glad, for the old friars had been greatly
hurt by that act of the visitor, and the restitution was made on the
feast of S. Luke, October 18th, and on the evening of the 22nd Fra
Jerome brought the friars of the reform to Seville. They were lodged
in the house of the old observance, and joined in all the acts of the
community as brethren. Hitherto the peace between the two fami
lies had not been openly broken.
Fra Jerome in Seville was not, however, altogether a welcome
guest in the house of the old observants, who soon began to murmur
and then to find fault with the reform: the change was an offence to
them: some felt it as a reproach, while many certainly admired what
they did not think themselves bound to practise. Difficulties arose,
for they could not be hindered among the brethren whose habits
were different, and Fra Mariano urged Fra Jerome to provide a sepa
rate house for the friars of the reform. The archbishop of Seville,
knowing what was going on, offered Fra Jerome a part of his palace,
but Fra Jerome would not do anything by which the dissension
might become known too soon, and therefore would not leave the
monastery till he had found a house for his friars. This was done,
with the help and consent of the archbishop, and possession of it
was taken, but secretly, January 5, 1574, on the eve of the Epiphany.
Fra Jerome ordered his friars to make their way two and two,
and as secretly as possible, to the house he had chosen; and then, on
the eve of the Epiphany, the steward of the archbishop, in the pres
ence of a notary, delivered the keys of it to Fra Jerome, and went
his way. The friars occupied themselves forthwith in arranging the
house, and were thus busy till it was time to say matins; everything
was then ready, and mass was sung on the feast of the Kings.
On that very day the discontent of the old friars in Seville broke
out: the prior and the provincial were blamed for allowing the new
house to be founded, but the prior and the provincial knew nothing
of it, neither could they have hindered it, for Fra Jerome was
the superior of both, and had authority to do what he had done.
They felt it very keenly, for a monastery of the same order founded
close to their own showed that there was something wrong, and they
knew that the blame would not be thrown wholly on the friars of the
reform. They resolved to send some of themselves to Fra Jerome
to ask the meaning of his act, and the two friars deputed for the
purpose were the sub-prior and Fra Diego de Leon who was now
bishop of the Isles in Scotland. He was at this time staying with his
brethren in Seville, for he had been, and was still, a friar of that
house. The two friars went forth on the feast of the Epiphany, and
represented their grievance to Fra Jerome; they asked him how
he could without the leave of the provincial found another house;
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
besides, he had not shown that he had any authority for his pro
ceedings, and the fathers of the order were very much hurt thereat.
To these Fra Jerome made answer that he had authority to do
what he had done, and they too must know it, for they acknowledged
it when he gave them back the monastery of San Juan del Puerto,
and when they accepted it at his hands: however, if they had any
misgivings on the subject they could go to the archbishop, who had
his instructions in his hands: he could not show them himself for that
reason, but the provincial and other fathers knew what they were,
and were satisfied with them in the affair of the monastery out of
which he had taken the friars of the reform to be replaced by those
of the old observance.
The two religious were silenced, but they were not at their ease,
and nothing further was done. Fra Jerome remained with his own
friars in their new house, and for the present seemed to have no
other object than to watch over the progress of it in the spiritual
life. The archbishop appointed him a preacher in the cathedral,
wherein also he preached the Lenten sermons in 1575.
S. Teresa was at this time in Salamanca preparing for the foun
dation in Segovia which was made on the feast of S. Joseph, 19th
March, 1574. In Holy Week, because of the strange conduct of the
princess of Eboli, she dissolved her monastery in Pastrana, and re
moved her nuns to Segovia. Having established her monastery
there, she returned to Avila on the 1st of October to the monastery
of the Incarnation, of which she was prioress.
On the 6th of October the three years were over during which
she was to be, and had been, prioress of the monastery of the Incar
nation. She resigned her office, but the nuns, though not all, wished
to re-elect her; the provincial would not allow them, and the Saint
herself resisted with her whole heart, for she wished to return to
S. Joseph's. She did return, and there the nuns, glad to receive her,
elected her prioress. She was now for the second time chosen
prioress of the house she had founded with so much trouble. Shortly
after the election she went to Valladolid, her presence being desirable
on account of Dona Casilda, whose story is told in chs. x., xi. In
the beginning of January she returned to Avila, and made her prep
arations for the foundation in Veas, not knowing nor even suspecting
that the town was within the province of Andalusia. Here she
heard from the bishop of Avila that the inquisitors were searching
for her book — her Life, written by herself. Meanwhile complaints
had been carried to the general, and the reform was spoken of as a
great evil. The general, therefore, unable to withstand his subjects
obtained from His Holiness Gregory XIII., on the 3rd of August of
this year 1574, the recall of the powers given to the two Dominican
friars who were visitors of Castille and Andalusia; but he did not
put the papal letters in execution at once, reserving their publication
for the next general chapter to be held in Piacenza. The existence
0+ the papal letters, however, became known in Spain; and the nuncio
Monsignore Ormaneto, who had the reform of Carmel greatly at
heart, and whose powers were not touched by the brief of recall,
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS. lix
made Fra Francisco de Vargas and Fra Jerome of the Mother of
God visitors jointly of Andalusia. But he first of all sent to Rome
for his greater security, and there learnt from the secretary of His
Holiness that none of his powers were withdrawn. His commission
to the two friars was signed on the 22d of September, within two
months of the issue of the brief by which the faculties of the visitors
had been recalled. The nuncio meant to give more authority still
to Fra Jerome, and this became known to some one of his friends or
kindred, who sent word of it to him in Seville, and advised him to
come to Madrid. Fra Jerome was not able to leave his monastery
before Easter 1575, because of the duties he had there to discharge,
as well as in the cathedral church; but after Easter he set out and
arrived in Veas, where he saw S. Teresa, who was very much sur
prised when she heard from him that she was then in the province of
Andalusia. She had never intended to make any foundations in
that province, because the general had expressly forbidden her.
However, she was now in Andalusia, and as such subject to Fra
Jerome, its visitor, who laid his commands upon her, and bade her
found a monastery in Seville, while she herself had resolved to make
a foundation in Madrid.
Fra Jerome went from Veas, where a messenger from the nuncio
found him, to Madrid, and there was made, August 3, 1575, visitor of
the province of Andalusia, and at the same time superior of the
friars of the reform both in Andalusia and Castille; he was hence
forth called the provincial of the barefooted Carmelites, thereby
receiving full authority from the nuncio to propagate the reform in
both provinces. He now proceeded to visit the new houses, gave
constitutions to the friars — the nuns were in possession of those
given by the Saint — and settled the affairs of the order as well as he
could, preparing the way, though perhaps not intending it, for the
separation of the reform of S. Teresa from the old observance of the
mitigation.
While Fra Jerome of the Mother of God was making his visita
tion the Saint went to Seville, and with much toil and labour made
her foundation there on the feast of the Most Holy Trinity, May 29,
1575.
From Seville she wrote a long letter to the general of the order
explaining the mistake she had made in going to Veas, and making
excuses for Fra Jerome and Fra Mariano. Perhaps she was not
altogether pleased with what had been done.
"I send to your paternity a letter about the foundation in Veas and
the request made for a foundation in Caravaca ... I also informed
your paternity of the reasons why I came to make a foundation in Se
ville. ... I should also like you to know that I made many inquiries
when I went to Veas whether it was in Andalusia or not, for I never
meant to go to that province. Veas certainly is not in Andalusia,
but it does belong to that province. It was more than a month after
the foundation had been made that I knew of this. When T found
myself with the nuns I thought it would not be well to abandon the
monastery, and that was one reason also for my coming to this place;
x PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
but that which weighed most with me was that which I gave to
your paternity, namely, to look into this affair of these fathers. They
give good reasons for what they have done, and certainly 1 can see
nothing in them but a wish to be your true children, and to give you
no annoyance: still for all that, I cannot regard them as blameless.
They now see that it would have been better if they had taken
another course, so as to give no offence to your paternity. We have
great discussions, especially Mariano and myself, who is of a quick
temper, while Gratian is like an angel; so if he had been alone things
would have been differently done. It was Fra Baltasar, prior of
Pastrana, who made him come hither. I may say it to your pater
nity, if you knew him you would be glad to have him for your son.
1 verily believe him to be one, and Fra Mariano also."1
But on May 22nd the general of Carmel held a chapter of the
whole order in Piacenza, within the duchy of Parma; the papal brief
recalling the powers of the visitors was published, and the sup
pression of the reform was substantially decreed by the assembled
fathers, who ordered the removal of the barefooted Carmelites from
all the houses they had in Andalusia, allowing them to remain in
Castille only in the two foundations which S. Teresa had made by
authority of the father-general. Fra Jerome Tostado, a Portuguese,
was commissioned to execute the decree, who accordingly came to
Spain, a resolute and serious man, fully bent on the ruin of the
new Carmel.
Before the decrees of the general chapter were brought to Spain
Fra Jerome of the Mother of God went to Seville, November 21,
1575, where the Saint was still living, and proceeded to execute the
commission of the nuncio. It was a work full of danger, and the
Saint was greatly alarmed (Rel. i. § 27), for the friars in Seville
were not likely to yield obedience to Fra Jerome, who was young in
the order, and even in years. Nor did they: they disputed his powers
and denounced him as a rebel against the lawful authority of the
general. Fra Jerome was patient, and at last the sub-prior of the
house yielded: then by degrees the other friars throughout the prov
ince.
Towards the end of the year, a little before Christmas, "there
was brought to me," saith the Saint (ch. xxvii. § 18), "from the
general chapter, which I think ought to have highly considered the
increase of the order, a decree, made by the deputies assembled,
enjoining me not only to make no more foundations, but also on no
account whatever to leave the house I should choose to dwell in,
which was something like sending me to prison." This decree was
brought to her by order of Fra Angel de Salazar, provincial of Cas
tille. It is probable enough that Fra Angel, who had known her
long, may have considered the proceedings of his superiors some
what harsh, though he could not say so, for he sent her word at
the same time that she could appeal to the Pope. That the Saint
would not do: she said she preferred obedience to everything else,
1 Lett. 59; but Lett. 72 vol. 4 ed. Doblado.
PREFACE TO COOK OF FOUNDATIONS. Ixl
and would submit at once. Fra Jerome told her that there was no
necessity for instant obedience, and, as the winter had set in, he
bade her stay in Seville for the present. She did so, and left it for
Toledo, the place she had chosen to dwell in, June 4, 1576.
On the 12th of May a chapter of the friars of the mitigation was
held in Moraleja, and decrees were made in it which could have no
other issue but the suppression of the reform, Fra Jerome Tostado
being now in Spain, about to execute the decrees of the chapter of
Piacenza. The reformed friars also met, called together by Fra
Jerome of the Mother of God, as their provincial, in Almodovar,
August 8, where they, on their part, did what they could to save them
selves from ruin. But Fra Jerome of the Mother of God, when he
went to Seville from Almodovar, saw all his work there undone by
the provincial of the mitigation. Fra Augustin Suarez had resumed
his authority, had removed the priors appointed by Fra Jerome, and
had restotred his province nearly to the state it was in when he was
compelled to withdraw the year before. The great monastery of
Seville, therefore, on the arrival of Fra Jerome, was in open rebellion
against the visitor apostolic — the friars had recovered their former
courage, and now disputed his authority; however, he prevailed,
and as the archbishop was on his side the friars once more were
compelled to obey the apostolic visitor. But soon afterwards Fra
Jerome was called to Madrid on the affairs of his order, and then
the friars, glad to recover their liberty, and no longer afraid of
him, begged the provincial, Fra Augustin Suarez, to resume his
office, and take upon himself once more the government of the house.
Fra Augustin consented, and again undid the work of Fra Jerome.
Then there arose a cry against S. Teresa and Fra Jerome — against
the barefooted friars and the nuns, against all that had been done in
the order — such as had never before been heard. The storm had
burst at last, and the order of Carmel was in confusion.
In the following year, 1577, Monsignore Ormaneto, friendly to
the reform, died, and the friars of the mitigation, in the belief that
the commission of Fra Jerome was thereby suspended, renewed
their strength, and, assured of victory as they thought, laid their
hands heavily on their brethren of the reform. Fra Jerome Tostado,
the vicar, began to execute his commission in earnest, and the bare
footed friars literally hid themselves till the fury of the storm should
abate. S. Teresa came to Avila in September, and begged the king
to help her and her order. Don Philip did so, but probably not in the
way the Saint meant, for he took upon himself to forbid the vicar of
the general the exercise of his lawful functions. Meanwhile the
new nuncio, Monsignore Sega, arrived, and took the matter into his
own hands. He was, unhappily, fully persuaded that right and justice
were wholly with the friars of the mitigation, and that Fra Jerome
and S.^ Teresa were rebellious subjects in need of restraint and
correction. He sent for Fra Jerome, and demanded the commission
which the late nuncio had given him.
It seems that before this the king had consulted the lawyers, who
told him that the commission held by Fra Jerome had not under
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
the circumstances ceased to be valid, notwithstanding the death of
the nuncio who had granted it, and that, therefore, the visitation of
the order, which had been begun, might be continued to the end.
The Saint herself thus writes about the middle of August: "We
thought it quite clear that on the death of the last nuncio the visita
tion [of the province by Fra Jerome] was put a stop to; but the
theologians and lawyers of Alcala and Toledo were consulted, and
they said 'No,' on the ground that it had been begun, and that it
had to be finished notwithstanding the nuncio's death; but if it had
not been begun, then certainly the powers of the visitor died with
the nuncio."1 Monsignore vSega had no occasion for considering the
question at all; so he asked Fra Jerome, as his superior, to resign
his authority, just as the late nuncio might have done. The friar
unhappily took counsel that was not the best, and refused the
nuncio's request, and that refusal of Fra Jerome to resign his au
thority into his hands confirmed him in his opinion that the friars of
the reform were really rebels against the authority of their general.
He waited till the king's council decided against Fra Jerome Tostado,
who went back to Rome, and then, seeing that there was no visitor
of the order in Spain, as nuncio appointed friars of the old observ
ance to be visitors of the new.
He now summonded the friars of the reform to submit and own
his authority, and sent his representatives to Pastrana, where most
of them were assembled, to receive their submission. For a moment
it was doubtful whether the friars would yield; some of them were
for resistance, but Fra Jerome happily took better advice than that
of lawyers, and retired to his cell with a saintly brother, whose advice
he asked and whose advice he took. He then reassembled the
fathers, and told them to obey the nuncio; he did so himself, gave up
at once all his faculties, and whatever letters he had received from
the late nuncio, and submitted absolutely to the authority of Mon
signore Sega, whom he had so lately treated with scant respect.
Fra Jerome went back to Madrid with two of his brethren, Fra
Antonio and Fra Mariano, who were pillars of the reform, and pre
sented himself humbly before the nuncio. Their submission pleased
him, but he could not leave their contumaciousness unpunished. He
deprived them of their faculties, and would not let them even hear
mass for a time. Fra Jerome was sent to the Carmel of Madrid as
a prisoner, Fra Antonio of Jesus to the barefooted Franciscans, and
Fra Mariano to the Dominicans of our Lady of Atocha. Soon after
Fra Juan de Jesus came to Madrid, and was ordered to prison by the
nuncio.
Monsignore Sega, with the best intentions, and in the right, for he
did nothing that he was not justified in doing, brought the reform of
S. Teresa to the very edge of the precipice. He was the delegate
of the Pope, and was, moreover, carrying out accurately the decrees
of the general chapter of the order, as well as executing the undoubted
wishes of the general. It is to the credit of Don Philip and his
1 Lett. 201; but Lett. 20 vol. 3 ed, Doblado.
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
government that, though most anxious to see the reform grow and
prosper, they used neither force nor fraud in the matter, but allowed
the nuncio to do his will according to the law.
It was in December of this year that S. John of the Cross, who had
been left as confessor of the nuns of the Incarnation, was seized by
night and carried away to prison in the Carmelite monastery of
Toledo, where he was most cruelly dealt with, and was not allowed to
make known to any of his brethren where he was detained.
In the sore straits to which they had been reduced, the friars
whom the nuncio had punished but after a time had released from
prison took counsel together, and resolved to do an act which is
hardly to be justified. They remembered that the apostolic visitors
appointed by S. Pius V., Fra Pedro Fernandez and Fra Francisco de
Vargas, had made a decree to the effect that when their term of office
expired the barefooted friars might meet in the chapter and elect a
provincial of their own. They considered the chapter held in Al-
modovar, May 12, 1576, justified by that decree, and by the com
mission which Fra Jerome had received from the late nuncio. They
were now, they thought, brought to a state in which it was necessary
to have recourse to the powers vested in them by that decree.
Being without a superior by the resignation of Fra Jerome of the
Mother of God, who had submitted to the nuncio, they said — and
herein they were advised by the lawyers — that Fra Antonio of Jesus,
who had been elected defmitor in Almodovar, should, as the highest
personage among them, summon another chapter to be held in the
same place.
Fra Antonio unhappily did so, and the chapter was held in Al
modovar, October 9, 1578. S. John of the Cross, miraculously
delivered from prison, came to the chapter, but he earnestly dis
suaded his brethren from the course they were about to take. Not
withstanding his entreaties they elected Fra Antonio their provincial.
But before the chapter was dissolved Fra Juan of Jesus came in
from Madrid and vehemently urged upon it the wrongfulness of its
act. He told his brethren that they could not plead the decree of
the visitors, on which they relied, because they had renounced every
right to a separate government when Fra Jerome submitted to the
nuncio. He begged them to undo what they had done, but they,
by way of reply, had him confined to his cell for a month, that he
might not go back to Madrid and denounce to the nuncio what they
had so unwisely done.
Fra Antonio and his brethren, not without grave misgivings how
ever, then returned to Madrid, and told the nuncio what they had
done. Monsignore Sega was extremely displeased and extremely
angry; he annulled their acts, and ordered them all into prison again,
and excommunicated every one who had taken any part in the chapter
of Almodovar. He ordered S. Teresa, as the fount of all the dis
orders in Carmel, to remain as a close prisoner in Toledo, and on the
16th of October, 1578, commanded all the friars of the reform to
submit in everything to the prelates of the mitigation. The friars
whom he sent to execute his decree did so with a good will,
Ixiv PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
and the reform was on the very point of being crushed. Even the
monasteries of the nuns were visited, and the discipline in them
changed, while S. Teresa could not help any of her children, and to
human eyes all her work was utterly undone.
In the early part of the next year (1579) the sun rose again on
the Carmel of the reform. Monsignore Sega, who was in perfect good
faith throughout the whole of his harsh proceedings, in proof of his
sincerity and fair dealing offered to accept four assessors who should
be witnesses of his acts; that offer was accepted, and the result was
that the nuncio's eyes were opened to the groundlessness of the
charges which the friars of the mitigation had brought against their
brethren. He had come to Spain prejudiced against the reform,
and had hitherto looked at everything in the light of that prejudice.
Now, in consultation with the four assessors, lie saw at once that he
had been misled. He offered instantly, and without hesitation, to
redress the wrongs he had unwittingly, but most conscientiously,
wrought, and on the 1st of April, 1579, recalled the commissions he
had granted to the friars of the old observance, granting authority at
the same time to Fra Angel de Salazar over all the friars and nuns
of the reform throughout Castille and Andalusia. Fra Angel, though
himself of the old observance, was not unfriendly to the reform, and
he executed his commission justly. He visited the monasteries, and
wept for joy at the sight of the holy and austere lives led therein.
He could not visit Andalusia in person because of his failing health,
but he made Fra Jerome of the Mother of God, then prior of Seville,
his delegate there, and in every way favoured the reform of S. Teresa,
whom he had known so long.
Having been thus far delivered from the dangers that threat
ened to overwhelm them, the friars of the reform resolved, with
the agreement of the assessors of the nuncio, that it was de
sirable to sever themselves from the friars of the mitigation, but
to continue nevertheless under the same general. The nuncio after
some hesitation, for he had another plan, consented— it was on the
15th of July of this year — and Fra Juan de Jesus was sent to Rome
to arrange the conditions of the new order. It was a work of some
difficulty, but it was done, and the Sovereign Pontiff, Gregory XT 1 1.,
in a brief dated June 22, 1580, confirmed and sanctioned the sever
ance of the mitigation from the reform. All the friars and all the
nuns under the primitive rule and of the reform of S. Teresa were to
form one province under one provincial, but under the father-general
of the whole order.
In 1581, by order of His Holiness, the priors of the reform were
summoned to Alcala de Hcnares by the apostolic commissary Fra
Juan Velasquez de las Cuevas, prior of the Dominican monastery in
Talavera. The monition was issued Feb. 1, 1581, and the fathers
assembled in Alcala on the 3d March, when the final severance of
the old friars and the new was published in due form. On the 6th
Fra Juan held a chapter for the election of the provincial, in which
the fathers were divided between Fra Jerome of the Mother of God
and Fra Antonio of Jesus, the first who professed the reform. The
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS. IxV
former was elected, but he had only one voice in his favour more
than Fra Antonio had. He had been elected provincial in the
chapter of Almodovar, and the fathers probably did not wish to be
unfriendly to him now.
S. Teresa was at the time in Palencia making her foundation
there; even before the separation she had resumed her work, for Fra
Angel de Salazar, whom the nuncio had set over the reform, had
given her leave, in January, 1580, to found a monastery in Villanueva
de la Jara. Throughout the persecution, even when her work was
on the point of being undone, and when Fra Jerome and others were
almost without hope, the Saint never lost her confidence in God. In
1577, when the nuncio Monsignore Ormaneto was dead, and the new
nuncio was so angry with her, and thought so ill both of her and of
her work, she wrote, by direction of Fra Jerome, the Inner Fortress,
beginning it on the feast of the Most Holy Trinity, June 2, and
finishing it in Avila about the end of November in the same year.
Don Diego de Yepes, one of her biographers, says that he saw
her in Toledo when the storm was most violent, and when Fra
Mariano was losing heart, and Fra Jerome almost despairing of
success. He found the former one day with the Saint speaking of
their troubles, and reading a letter from Fra Jerome, discouraging
and sad: the Saint was not troubled in the slighest degree, and
after a moment or two said, "We have much to suffer, but the
order will not be destroyed." She had nothing to reproach herself
with, for she had always acted under obedience. She had never
once done anything which she was not bound to do. The father-
general of the order had bidden her make "as many foundations
as she had hairs on her head;" and if she went to Andalusia against
his will, though that is doubtful, it was not her fault, for she was
sent thither by her superior, the apostolic visitor of Castile, Fra Pedro
Fernandez. Moreover, she did not then know that Veas was in the
province of Andalusia.
Once in Andalusia, she was under the jurisdiction of Fra Jerome
of the Mother of God; and he it was who sent her to Seville. She
could not disobey him, for he had powers from the nuncio, and was
therefore in the place of the general of the whole order.
The friars, also, were never disobedient in making the foundations,
for the Saint had authority from the general to found two houses in
Castille, which were Duruelo and Pastrana. The third, Alcala de
Henares, was founded with the general's sanction, asked for and had
by Don Ruy Gomez, duke of Pastrana, who was a friend of the
order and of the Saint. The other foundations were all made with
the consent and approval of the apostolic visitors, both in Castille
and Andalusia. It is true the general forbade any foundations to be
made in the latter province, but that prohibition was not binding on
the Pope, and therefore not on those who wielded his authority over
the friars of Carmel. The first chapter held in Almodovar was held
by lawful authority, but the second, held in October, 1578, was not
justified in the eyes of S. John of the Cross and Fra Juan of Jesus.
Ixvi PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS.
Others, too, may have disapproved of it, but kept silence for the
sake of peace.
The reform of S. Teresa was now established with the approba
tion of the Sovereign Pontiff. The order was under the immediate
government of Fra Jerome of the Mother of God, in whom she had
perfect confidence, but in whom the friars, who owed everything to
her, had very little. The great work was done which she never
contemplated when she founded the monastery of S. Joseph, and
which was brought about, in a certain sense, against her wish, for
she never intended to found an order. Her labours were not over
when peace was made between the friars of the mitigation and those
of the reform, for she founded monasteries in Soria and Burgos, and
sent Anne of Jesus with S. John of the Cross to make the foundation
in Granada.
The book of the Foundations was written at different times. It
was begun in Salamanca, Aug. 24, 1573, by the order of father
Ripalda, S.J., her confessor at the time. She seems to have written
twenty chapters without much interruption. Then, when she was,
as it were, imprisoned in Toledo by order of the general, after
the foundation of Seville was made, she was commanded by Fra
Jerome of the Mother of God to continue her writing. She obeyed,
beginning with ch. xxi., and brought her work down to the end of ch.
xxvii., which she finished on the vigil of S. Eugenius, Nov. 14,
1576. The rest of the book was probably written as each foundation
was made.
Fra Luis de Leon published the writings of the Saint in the year
1588, in Salamanca, but without the book of the Foundations. The
Saint had been dead only six years, and it is probable enough that
some hesitation might be felt about printing a book in which people
then living were spoken of; but in 1630 Baltasar Moreto published
it in Antwerp, and it forms the third volume of the works of S.
Teresa printed at the Plantin press. Moreto, however, omitted the
history of Dona Casilda de Padilla, which is begun ch. x. § 7, and
is continued in ch. xi.; his text ends with the words "His crea
tures" in that section. Thus a great part of ch. x. and the whole of
ch. xi. were omitted when the book was first printed. The Latin,
Italian, and German translations of the book have made the same
omission. So also has Mr. Woodhead in his English translation,
and more lately the Canon Dalton.
The original MS. is preserved in the Escurial, as is also that of
the Visitation of the Nunneries.
The Foundations were translated into English two hundred years
ago by Mr. Abraham Woodhead, and printed. The title of the volume
is as follows: —
The second part of the Life of the Holy Mother S. Teresa of
Jesus; or, the history of her Foundations, written by herself.
Whereunto are annexed her death, burial, and the miraculous in-
corruption and fragrancy of her body. Together with her treatise
PREFACE TO BOOK OF FOUNDATIONS. Ixvii
of the manner of visiting the monasteries of discalced nuns.
Printed in the year MDCLXIX.
Mr. Woodhead, after the manner of the Italian translation, sepa
rated the history of the foundation of S. Joseph in Avila from the
Life, and placed it in the beginning of this book, thereby making
the Foundations complete. In his translation the Life ends with
§ 10 of ch. xxxii., and the book of the Foundations consequently
begins with ch. xxxii. § 11 of the Life, precisely as in the Italian
version.
In 1853 another translation was published by the Very Reverend
John Dalton, canon of Northampton, the title of which is as fol
lows : —
Book of the Foundations. Written by S. Teresa. Translated from
the Spanish by the Rev. John Dalton. Embellished with a por
trait of the Saint. London, 1853.
Feast of S. Teresa, 1871.
ANNALS OF THE SAINT'S LIFE.
1515. S. Teresa is born in Avila, March 28th.1
1522. She desires martyrdom, and leaves her father's house with one
of her brothers.
1527.2 Death of her mother.
1529. Reads romances of chivalry, and is misled by a thoughtless
cousin.
1531. Her sister Maria's marriage, and her removal from home to the
Augustinian monastery, where she remains till the autumn
of next year.
1533.* Nov. 2, enters the monastery of the Incarnation.
1534. Nov. 3, makes her profession.
1535. Goes to Castellanos de la Canada, to her sister's house, where
she remains till the spring of 1538, when she goes to Bezades.
1537. Returns to Avila on Palm Sunday. In July seriously ill, and
in a trance for four days, when in her father's house. Para
lysed for more than two years.
1539. Is cured of her paralysis by S. Joseph.
1541. Begins to grow lukewarm, and gives up mental prayer.
1542. Our Lord appears to her in the parlour of the monastery,
"stern and grave" [ch. vii. § 11, see note there].
1 In the same year S. Philip was born in Florence. S. Teresa died
in 1582, and S. Philip in 1595; but they were canonised on the same day,
with S. Isadore, S. Ignatius, and S. Francis Xavier. The three latter
were joined together in the three final consistories held before the
solemn proclamation of their sanctity, and S. Teresa and S. Philip
were joined together in the same way in the final consistories held
specially, as usual, for them.
2 This must be an error. See ch. i. § 7, note 2.
3 There is a difficulty about this. The Bollandists maintain that
she went to the monastery of the Incarnation in the year 1533. On
the other hand Ribera, her most accurate biographer, — with whom Fra
Jerome agrees, — says that she left her father's house in 1535, when she
was more than twenty years of age; Yepes, that she was not yet twenty;
and the Second Relation of the Rota, that she was in her twentieth
year. The Bull of Canonisation and the Office in the Breviary also
say that she was in her twentieth year, that is, A. D. 1534. The Chroni
cler of the Order differs from all, and assigns the year in which she
entered the monastery.
Ixix
1XX ANNALS OF THE SAINTS LIFE.
1544. Death of her father. Places herself under the direction of Fr.
Vicente Baron.
1555. Ceases to converse with secular people, moved thereto by the
sight of a picture of our Lord on the cross [ch. ix. § 1]. The
Jesuits come to Avila, and the Saint confesses to F. Juan de
Padranos.
1556. Beginning of the supernatural visitations.
1557. S. Francis de Borja comes to Avila, and approves of the
spirit of the Saint.
1558. First rapture of the Saint [ch xxiv. § 7]. The vision of hell
[ch. xxxii. § 1]. Father Alvarez ordained priest.
1559. She takes F. Alvarez for her confessor. The transpiercing of
her heart [ch. xxix. § 17]. Vision of our Lord risen from
the dead [ch. xxvii. § 3, ch. xxviii. § 2].
1560. The vow of greater perfecton. S. Peter of Alcantara approves
of her spirit, and S. Luis Bertran encourages her to proceed
with her plan of founding a new monastery.
1561. F. Caspar de Salazar, S.J., comes to Avila; her sister Dona
Juana comes to Avila from Alba de Tormes to help the
Saint in the new foundation [ch. xxxiii. § 13]. Restores her
nephew to life [ch. xxxv. § 14, note]. Fra Ibaiiez bids her
write her Life. Receives a sum of money from her brother
in Peru, which enables her to go on with the building of
the new house.
1562. Goes to Toledo, to the house of Dona Luisa de la Cerda, and
finishes the account of her Life. Makes the acquaintance
of Fra Banes, afterwards her principal director, and Fra
Garcia of Toledo, both Dominicans. Receives a visit from
Maria of Jesus. Has a revelation that her sister Dona
Maria will die suddenly [ch. xxxiv. § 24]. Returns to
Avila and takes possession of the new monastery, August 24.
Troubles in Avila. The Saint ordered back to the monas
tery of the Incarnation. Is commanded by Fra Garcia of
Toledo to write the history of the foundation of S. Joseph.
1565. Fra Garcia of Toledo directs her to ask leave of the provincial
for the commutation of her vow. The provincial, Fra
Angel de Salazar, empowers Fra Garcia to do what was
necessary.
The Saint is greatly distressed by scruples about her
spiritual state. She applies to the inquisitor Soto [Relation
vii. § 8], who recommends her to send an account of her life
to Juan of Avila. She rewrites her Life, and divides the
book into chapters.
1566. The father-general of the order of Carmel, Fra Giovanni Bat-
tista Rossi, arrives in Spain, and holds chapters of the order.
1567. The general visits the Saint in her monastery, and receives
her back into the order as his subject. He authorizes her
to make other monasteries of nuns, and two of friars, April
27th.
On the feast of the- Assumption the Saint founds a
ANNALS OF THE SAINT'S LIFE.
monastery in Medina del Campo [where she remains from the
Assumption of our Lady to the end of October].
That done, she goes to Madrid, and is lodged in the
house of Dona Leonor de Mascareiias [ch. iii.]. She left
Madrid [in November] and went to Alcala de Henares for
the purpose of visiting and settling the monastery of the
venerable Maria of Jesus. She remains two months in Alcala.
She meditates the foundation of houses of friars of her
reform, Fra Antonio de Heredia and S. John of the Cross
having offered themselves as a beginning.
She had received the offer of a house near Valladolid
from Don Bernardino de Mendoza for a monastery there,
but could not accept it at once, because she had promised
to make a foundation in Malagon.
1568. She goes to Toledo to her friend Dona Luisa de la Cerda,
the foundress of the house in Malagon, and in Lent leaves
Toledo for Malagon, where she makes the foundation on
Palm Sunday, April llth [ch. ix. § 5].
She remains two months in Malagon, and on May 19th
she departs for Toledo, which she reaches bowed down
with sickness.
May 28th. She sets out for Escalona to see the mar
chioness of Villena [at the request of Fra Garcia of Toledo].
She writes to Dona Luisa de la Cerda to ask her to
send the MS. of her Life to Juan of Avila in all haste,
which she had left with her for that purpose [F. Banes
had written to her for it, and asked her to send it to him
as soon as she returned to Avila — Lett. 3]; returns to Avila,
June 2nd.
A house in Duruelo is offered her by Don Rafael Megia
Velasquez for a monastery of friars.
August 10th she arrives in Valladolid to make the founda
tion for which Don Bernardino de Mendoza had given her
a house [ch. x. § 3], and the monastery is founded on the
feast of the Assumption.
Juan of Avila approves of her book, and writes to her
a letter dated September 12th. from Montilla.
The first monastery of friars founded in Duruelo, and
the first mass said there conventually on Advent Sunday,
November 28th [ch. xiv. § 5].
In December she prepares for the foundation in Toledo.
1569. She leaves Valladolid Feb. 21st. and visits Duruelo on her
way to Avila. In March she sets out for Toledo, attended
by the priest Gonzalo de Aranda [and the two nuns Isabel
of S. Dominic and Isabel of S. Paul, ch. xv. § 3].
She arrives in Madrid; the king sent for her, but she
had then left for Toledo, where she arrives March 24th.
Meanwhile the nuns in Valladolid leave their monastery
because of its unhealthiness, and take a house within the
city.
Ixxii ANNALS OF THE SAINT'S LIFE.
Juan of Avila dies April 12th, from whom she receives
a consoling letter shortly before that day.
May 28th. She receives a message from the prince and
princess of Eboli concerning the foundation to be made in
Pastrana.
She leaves Toledo on Monday in Whitsun week, May
30th, and in Madrid is lodged in the monastery of the
Franciscan nuns.
Makes the acquaintance there of Mariano of S. Bene
dict, the hermit, who enters the order of Carmel with his
companion, Juan de la Miseria.
July 9th. She takes possession, after much discussion
with the princess of Eboli, of the monastery in Pastrana.
[July 13th is founded the second monastery of the friars
in the same place.]
The princess of Eboli, after much importunity, obtains
possession of the Saint's Life. She ridicules the book, and
allows her servants to see it though she had promised to
keep it secret.
July 21st. The Saint returns to Toledo, where she re
mains for a year, but visits at times the monasteries of
Medina del Campo, Valladolid, and Pastrana.
1570. Father Martin Gutierrez, rector of the house of the Society
in Salamanca, writes to her Jan. 17th asking her to found
a monastery there [ch. xviii. § 1].
The nuns in Toledo remove to a better house in the
ward of S. Nicholas [ch. xv. § 17].
In July she sees in a vision the martyrdom of father
Ignatius de Azeve'do and others, forty Jesuits: they were
murdered by Soria, protestant and pirate, and friend of
Coligni. Among the martyrs was a kinsman of the Saint.
July 10th. She is in Pastrana, present at the taking of
the habit of the order by Ambrosio Mariano and Juan de
la Miseria.
The following day the friars of Duruelo remove to
Mancera.
She returns to Toledo, and to Avila in August.
The bishop of Salamanca grants permission for the
foundation of her monastery.
The Saint arrives in Salamanca on the eve of All Saints.
The third monastery of friars [Duruelo merged in Man
cera] is founded on the feast of All Saints in Alcala de Hen-
ares, and the seventh of nuns on the same day in Salamanca
[ch. xix. § 2].
At the end of the year the Saint is asked to make a
foundation in Alba de Tormes.
1571. The foundation made in Alba de Tormes, Jan. 25th [ch. xx. § 12].
The Saint returns to Salamanca, and is there at the
end of March. She now spent some time in the house of
the count of Monterey.
ANNALS OF THE SAINTS LIFE. Ixxiii
She goes to Avila from Salamanca, and is ordered by
her superiors to accept the priorate of the Incarnation [ch.
xix. § 6].
She entered on her office in October, and remained
prioress for three years.
1572. [Jan. 19th. The Saint sees our Lady in the stall of the prioress.
Relation iii. § 16].
The nuns of the Incarnation amend their ways, and
the Saint rebukes the insolence of those who paid visits to
the religious.
S. John of the Cross made confessor to the nuns.
Houses of friars are founded, and some of those in
Andalusia accept the reform of S. Teresa.
The seeds of discord are sown between the old friars
and the reformed.
March 25th. Fra Jerome Gratian of the Mother of God
takes the habit in Pastrana.
Great graces bestowed on the Saint while in the monas
tery of the Incarnation: the mystical bethrothal: and the
ecstasy in the parlour while speaking to S. John of the Cross.
The spiritual challenge from the friars of Pastrana.
1573. The Saint [June llth] writes to king Philip II. on the affairs
of the order.
Writes to Father Ordonez, S.J., on the subject of a
school for young girls in Medina del Campo, July 29th.
She sets out for Salamanca, with the provincial's leave,
to arrange the transfer of her community there to a new
house.
At the end of the month the princess of Eboli goes to
Pastrana, and establishes herself as a nun in the Carmelite
monastery there [ch. xvii. § 11, note],
In Salamanca her confessor, Father Jerome Ripalda,
bids her write the history of her foundations. She begins
to write August 24th.
While in Salamanca she is asked to make a foundation
in Veas.
Our Lord bids her make a foundation in Segovia [ch.
xxi. 1].
About the beginning of September the two fathers, Gra
tian and Mariano, set out for Andalusia from Pastrana.
1574. The Saint goes to Alba de Tonnes from Salamanca. She is
in the former place Feb. 8th, and stays two days in the house
of the duchess of Alba.
Notwithstanding her bodily illness and spiritual distress
she proceeds to Segovia through Medina del Campo and
Avila, and arrives there March 18th. The next day, on the
feast of S. Joseph, the foundation is made. She dissolves
the monastery of Pastrana and receives the nuns in Segovia
[ch. xviii. 15, note] in the beginning of April.
IXXIV ANNALS OF THE SAINT'S LIFE.
The book of her Life is delated to the inquisitors the
first time [ch. xvii. 11, note].
Dona Casilda de Padilla enters the monastery of Vallado-
lid. Death of Isabel of the Angels.
She purchases the house of Diego Porraz in Segovia,
which resulted in lawsuits with the chapter and the monas
teries there. Towards the end of September she removes
her nuns to the new house, and on the 1st of October goes
back to Avila.
Oct. 6th. She resigns the place of prioress in the monas
tery of the Incarnation, and returns to her own house of
S. Joseph [where she is elected prioress].
She goes again to Valladolid to make certain arrange
ments about the reception of Dona Casilda de Padilla.
1575. In the beginning of the year she returns to Avila, and, having
rested awhile, goes through Toledo, Malagon, and Almodovar
to Veas. In Almodovar she foretold the virtues of the
blessed John Baptist of the Conception, the reformer of the
Trinitarians.
She makes her tenth foundation of nuns in Veas on the
feast of S. Mathias, Feb. 24th. Sees there for the first time
Fra Jerome of the Mother of God, who was on his way to
Madrid.
March 7th. The house of the friars founded in Almodovar
del Campo.
The Saint sets out for Seville, being at the time un
well; meets with many difficulties on the road, and much
opposition in Seville. The foundation there is made on the
feast of the Most Holy Trinity.
The general chapter of the order is held in Piazenza,
where it was resolved to deal sharply with the friars of S.
Teresa's reform.
The Saint writes a long letter to the general.
Nov. 21st. Fra Jerome of the Mother of God, by dele
gation of the nuncio, visits the friars in Seville of the old
observance, who resist his authority.
Fra Angel de Salazar, provincial of Castille, bids the
Saint make no more foundations, and orders her further to
withdraw into any one of her monasteries, and there to re
main. She proposes to withdraw to Valladolid at once,
leaving the foundation of Seville in its troubles, but Fra
Jerome bids her stay for the present where she is.
1576. The foundation of Caravaca made Jan. 1st, while the Saint
was in Seville, searching for a house, and waiting for the
licence of the archbishop.
She writes to the father-general explaining her acts,
and those of Fra Jerome of the Mother of God and Fra
Mariano [Lett. 71; Lett. 13 vol, i. ed. Doblado]. She tells
him also how they and herself were about to be harassed,
and that false accusations were brought against them. She
ANNALS OF THE SAINT'S LIFE. 1XXV
is delated to the inquisition at this time by a weak sister who
left her monastery.
She buys a house at last, helped by her brother Don
Lorenzo, lately returned from the Indies. In the beginning
of May the new house is occupied by her and her sisters.
June 4th. She sets out for Toledo, where she was to stay
according to the order of the general. She is in Malagon
with her brother on the llth, and in the beginning of July
reaches Toledo. Before she is settled there she goes to
her monastery in Avila, by order of Fra Jerome, and hastens
back to Toledo with the venerable Anne of S. Bartholomew,
who is to be her companion and secretary. August 9th, she
is settled in Toledo. She is now asked to make a foundation
in Villanueva de la Jara.
The friars of the observance hold a chapter in Moraleja
[May 12th], and make decrees against the reform of S. Teresa.
The friars of the reform hold a chapter in Almodovar, Sept.
8th, and there some of their brethren are deputed to go to
Rome to save the reform.
In Toledo the Saint writes the Book of the Foundations
as far as ch. xxvii., adding to it the account of the foundations
of Segovia, Veas, Seville, and Caravaca. She ceases to write
about the middle of November.
The foundations are interrupted, none being made for
more than four years, owing to the troubles arising out of
the quarrel between the friars of the old observance and
those of the Saint's reform [ch. xxviii. § 1],
She confesses in Toledo to Dr. Velasquez, afterwards
bishop of Osma.
The nuns of Malagon are in trouble, and it is discussed
whether it would not be better to remove the nuns, of Veas
to Granada. .
Grievous charges are falsely brought against the Saint,
and the friars of the old observance think of sending her
to a monastery in India.
About the end of October some of the Saint's nuns in
Seville are sent to reform the nuns of the old observance
in Paterna, where they remain till the feast of S. Barbara,
1577.
A foundation in Aguilar de Campos is offered to the
Saint, December 7th.
During this year the Saint wrote many letters, and
fifty-five of them have been preserved.
1577. March 24th. The celebrated Doria, Fra Nicholas of Jesu Maria,
enters the order of Carmel.
The nuns of Veas and Caravaca involved in lawsuits.
June 2nd. She begins to write the Inner Fortress.
In June the nuncio Monsignore Ormaneto dies, to the
great grief of the Saint, for he had always defended her
reform.
ANNALS OF THE SAINTS LIFE.
In July she goes to Avila, and places her monastery
there under the jursdiction of the order: it had been hitherto
under the bishop.
In August the new nuncio, Monsignore Philip Sega,
arrives.
Gross falsehoods put forth against the friars and nuns
of the reform by two friars who had abandoned it — Fra
Miguel de la Calumna and Fra Baltasar de Jesus.
Monsignore Sega deals severely with the friars of the
reform, and the Saint begs the king to help her.
October 8th. Fra Miguel repents, and recants all he had
said.
The nuns of the Incarnation notwithstanding the threats
of their superiors, elect as their prioress S. Teresa.
About the end of November the book of the Inner Fortress
is finished.
In the night of December 3rd S. John of the Cross and
his fellow confessor and chaplain of the Incarnation are
taken to prison by the friars of the old observance. The
former is most cruelly treated by his brethren in Toledo.
On Christmas Eve the Saint is thrown down and breaks
her arm.
1578. F. Salazar, S.J., wishes to become a Carmelite friar, and
S. Teresa writes to father Suarez, provincial of the society
[Lett. 179; but Lett. 20 vol. i. ed. Doblado].
The nuncio becomes more severe with the friars.
In the beginning of May Fra Jerome Tostado returns to
Portugal, and the Saint is more at ease.
The royal council interferes with the jurisdiction of the
nuncio, and forbids the friars of the reform to obey him,
August 9th.
The father-general of the order, Fra Giovanni Battista
Rossi, dies [Sept. 4th].
October 9th. The chapter of Almodovar is held, in which
the friars of the reform, with doubtful right, form themselves
into a distinct province, and elect for their provincial Fra
Antonio of Jesus.
The nuncio is made angry by this proceeding: he quashes
the acts of the chapter, and imprisons the chief friars. He
bids S. Teresa remain in Toledo, and speaks harshly of her
and her work.
Towards the end of the year the monastery of Seville
is disturbed by the indiscretion of the confessor, and on
the prioress attempting to check him he carries accusations
against her and the Saint before the tribunal of the inquisition.
The inquisitors examine, and find the accused innocent.
Fra Pedro of the Angels and Fra Juan of San Diego
proceed to Rome on behalf of their brethren of the reform,
but the former in Naples reveals all to the vicar-general
ANNALS OF THE SAINT'S LIFE. IxxVU
of the order, and on his arrival in Spain returns to the
friars of the mitigation.
During this year the Saint is in Avila.
The book of her Life is again delated to the inquisitors.
1579. In the beginning of the year the order begins to have a little
more rest.
In the beginning of February the nuncio consents to
receive four assessors to judge the affairs of the friars of
the reform with him [ch. xxviii.].
April 1st. The nuncio makes Fra Angel de Salazar of
the mitigation visitor of the friars of the reform.
The two fathers, Fra Juan of Jesus and Fra Diego of
the Trinity, go from Avila, disguised as laymen, to Rome,
in order to obtain the severance of the friars of S. Teresa's
reform from those of the mitigation. In May they embark
at Alicante for Naples.
June 6th. The Saint writes the four instructions which
God gave her for the preservation and growth of the order.
June 23rd. She sets out from Avila to visit her monas
teries. She remains a few days in Malagon and arrives
on the 3rd of July in Valladolid, where she stays till the
30th.
July 15th. The nuncio proposes the separation of the
friars of the reform from those of the mitigation.
July 22nd. She writes to Don Teutonic de Braganza,
archbishop of Ebora [to whom she had sent a copy of her
Way of Perfection the week before, that he might get it
printed].
July 30th. The Saint goes from Valladolid to Medina,
where she remained three or four days; then to Alba de
Tormes, where she stays a week. She then goes to Salamanca,
where she remains some two months and a half.
Fra Angel de Salazar relieves her of the burden of the
priorate of Malagon, but insists on her visiting the monas
tery.
In the beginning of November she returns to Av'la,
and goes thence, notwithstanding her illness and the severity
of the weather, to Malagon. She was five days in reaching
Toledo.
Nov. 25th. She reaches Malagon, and on the feast of the
Immaculate Conception the nuns remove to their new house.
She consents to make the foundation in Villanueva de
la Jara.
1580. Fra Angel de Salazar, Jan. 28th, gives the Saint authority to
make the foundation in Villanueva.
Feb. 13th. She departs from Malagon, and arrives in
Villanueva on the first Sunday in Lent. The devout ladies
there waiting for her receive the habit Feb. 25th.
She leaves Villanueva, and arrives in Toledo March 25th,
and is struck by paralysis.
Ixxvili ANNALS OF THE SAINT'S LIFE.
She recovers by degrees, and visits the cardinal archbishop,
who tells her that her book is in the holy office, but that
no fault can be found with it.
[May 22nd. Fra Giovanni Battista Cafardo, who had gov
erned the order since the death of the father Rossi as
vicar by order of the Pope, is elected father-general.]
The Saint remains in Toledo till June 7th; then, by
order of Fra Angel de Salazar, she goes to Valladolid. She
is in Segovia June 13th.
June 22nd. His Holiness Gregory XIII. issues the bulls
for the formation of a distinct province of the friars of the
reform.
June 28th. Death of the Saint's brother Don Lorenzo.
The Saint is obliged to go to Avila to arrange the
affairs of her brother.
In the beginning of August she sets out from Avila for
Medina del Campo with her nephew and Fra Jerome of
the Mother of God; then to Valladolid, where she is very
ill, and believed to be dying [ch. xxix. § 1].
She is asked when somewhat better to make a foun
dation in Palencia, and by direction of her confessor, F.
Ripalda, S.J., notwithstanding her broken health, consents.
The archbishop of Burgos gives leave to found a house
in his cathedral city [ch. xxxi. § 1].
She leaves Valladolid for Palencia on the feast of the
Holy Innocents, and the foundation is made on the feast of
David the King [Dec. 28th, ch. xxix. § 9] in a hired house.
1581. Feb. 1st. The apostolic commissary, Fra Juan de las Cuevas,
of the order of S. Dominic, summons the friars of the reform
to Alcala de Henares, and by authority of His Holiness con-
stitues them a province apart from the friars of the mitigation,
March 3rd.
Fra Jerome of the Mother of God is in the chapter
elected the first provincial of the reform of S. Teresa.
May 4th. The house of the friars of the reform founded
in Valladolid, and another, June 1st, in Salamanca.
The nuns of Palencia remove from the hired house to
that bought by the Saint near the hermitage of our Lady
of the Street [ch. xix. § 22].
Towards the end of May the Saint goes from Palencia
to Soria, where she arrives June 2nd, and on the following
day founds the fifteenth monastery of her reform.
She makes efforts to found a house in Madrid, as she
had been doing for some time.
She makes Catherine of Christ prioress of Soria, and on
the 16th of August sets out for Avila. In Burgos de Osma,
she meets Don Diego de Yepes, and receives communion from
his hands.
August 23rd she is in Segovia, in Villacastin Sept. 4th,
and the next day in Avila.
ANNALS OF THE SAINTS LIFE. Ixxix
The monastery of S. Joseph had fallen away, and was
spiritually and temporally a source of distress to the Saint.
On her arrival the prioress resigns, and the community elects
S. Teresa to fill her place, but she refuses till Fra Jerome of
the Mother of God commands her to accept the burden.
1582. Jan 2nd. The Saint leaves Avila on her way to Burgos. She
is in Medina del Campo on the 4th. On the 9th she sets
out for Valladolid, where she remains four days. She then
goes to Palencia, and from Palencia to Burgos, where she
arrives, after a toilsome and dangerous journey, Jan. 26th.
[ch. xxxi. § 18J.
Jan. 21st. The venerable Anne of Jesus arrived in
Granada with S. John of the Cross to make the foundation
there.
The archbishop of Burgos makes it difficult for the
Saint to found a house. She and her nuns are lodged for
a time in the hospital of the Conception.
The archbishop, after many shiftings, yields at last, and
the monastery is founded April 22nd.
The monastery in Burgos is flooded, and the nuns are
in great danger.
She leaves Burgos about the end of July for Palencia
and Valladolid.
In Valladolid she is insulted by a lawyer, who thinks
that she has not dealt justly in the administration of her
brother's affairs.
The prioress of Valladolid quarrels with her, and orders
her to leave the monastery.
Sept. 16th. The Saint reaches Medina del Campo, where
also the prioress turns against her. She goes away without
food, and is extremely ill through weariness, illness, and
hunger. She and her companion, the venerable Anne of S.
Bartholomew, reach Penaranda, where they can get nothing
to eat, and the Saint it at the point of death.
She is not able to return to Avila, for the vicar of the
province orders her to go at once to Alba de Tormes, the
duchess of Alba being desirous of her presence.
She reaches Alba de Tormes, nearly dead, about six
o'clock on the evening of Sept. 20th. The next morning she
does violence to herself, and goes down to the church
for communion, and then returns to her bed, never to leave
it alive.
She makes her confession to Fra Antonio of Jesus, and
receives the viaticum and the last anointing, and on the
feast of S. Francis, October 4th, dies in the arms of her
companion, the venerable Anne of S. Bartholomew, in the
68th year of her age.
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THE LIFE
OF
The Holy Mother Teresa of Jesus.
WRITTEN BY HERSELF.
PROLOGUE.
As I have been commanded and left at liberty to describe
at length my way of prayer, and the workings of the grace of
our Lord within me, I could wish that I had been allowed at
the same time to speak distinctly and in detail of my grievous
sins and wicked life. But it has not been so willed; on the
contrary, I am laid herein under great restraint; and, there
fore, for the love of our Lord, I beg of every one who shall
read this story of my life1 to keep in mind how wicked it
has been ; and how, among the Saints who were converted to
God, I have never found one in whom I can have any comfort.
For I see that they, after our Lord had called them, never
fell into sin again ; I not only became worse, but, as it seems
to me, deliberately withstood the graces of His Majesty,
because I saw that I was thereby bound to serve Him more
earnestly, knowing, at the same time, that of myself I could
not pay the least portion of my debt.
May He be blessed for ever who waited for me so long!
I implore Him with my whole heart to send me His grace, so
that in all clearness and truth I may give this account of my
self which my confessors command me to give; and even our
1 The Saint, in a letter written Nov. 19, 1581, to Don Pedro de
Castro, then Canon of Avila, speaking of this book, calls it the book
"Of the Compassions of God" — Y ansi intitule ese libro De las Miseri-
cordlas de Dlos. That letter is the 358th in the edition of Don Vicente
de la Fuente, and the 8th of the fourth volume of the Doblado edition
of Madrid. "Vitam igitur suam internam et supernaturalem magis
pandit quam narrat actiones suas mere humanas" (Bollandists, § 1).
2 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. I.
Lord Himself, I know it, has also willed it should be given for
some time past, but I had not the courage to attempt it. And
I pray it may be to His praise and glory, and a help to my con
fessors ; who, knowing me better, may succour my weakness,
so that I may render to our Lord some portion of the service I
owe Him. May all creatures praise Him for ever ! Amen.
CHAPTER I.
CHILDHOOD AND EARLY IMPRESSIONS — THE BLESSING OF PIOUS
PARENTS DESIRE OF MARTYRDOM — DEATH OF THE SAINT^S
MOTHER.
1. I HAD a father and mother, who were devout and feared
God. Our Lord also helped me with His grace. All this
would have been enough to make me good, if I had not been
so wicked. My father was very much given to the reading
of good books ; and so he had them in Spanish, that his chil
dren might read them. These books, with my mother's care
fulness to make us say our prayers, and to bring us up devout
to our Lady and to certain Saints, began to make me think
seriously when I was, I believe, six or seven years old. It
helped me, too, that I never saw my father and mother re
spect any thing but goodness. They were very good them
selves. My father was a man of great charity towards the
poor, and compassion for the sick, and also for servants ; so
much so, that he never could be persuaded to keep slaves,
for he pitied them so much : and a slave belonging to one of
his brothers being once in his house, was treated by him
with as much tenderness as his own children. He used to
say that he could not endure the pain of seeing that she was
not free. He was a man of great truthfulness ; nobody ever
heard him swear or speak ill of any one ; his life was most
pure.
2. My mother also was a woman of great goodness, and
her life was spent in great infirmities. She was singularly
pure in all her ways. Though possessing great beauty, yet
was it never known that she gave reason to suspect that she
made any account whatever of it ; for, though she was only
three-and-thirty years of age when she died, her apparel was
already that of a woman advanced in years. She was very
C.-L. , 4 WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 3
calm, and had great sense. The sufferings she went through
during her life were grievous, her death most Christian.1
3. We were three sisters and nine brothers.2 All, by the
mercy of God, resembled their parents in goodness except
myself, though I was the most cherished of my father. And,
before I began to offend God, I think he had some reason, —
for I am filled with sorrow whenever i think of the good
desires with which our Lord inspired me, and what a wretched
use I made of them. Besides, my brothers never in any way
hindered me in the service of God.
4. One of my brothers was nearly my own age;3 and
he it was whom I most loved, though I was very fond of them
all, and they of me. He and I used to read lives of Saints
together. When I read of martyrdom undergone by the
Saints for the love of God, it struck me that the vision of
God was very cheaply purchased ; and I had a great desire
1 See ch. xxxvii. § 1; where the Saint says that she saw them in a
vision both in heaven.
2 Alfonso Sanchez de Cepeda, father of the Saint, married first
Catalina del Peso y Ilenao, and had three children — one daughter,
Maria de Cepeda, and two sons. After the death of Catalina, he
married Beatriz Davila y Ahumada, by whom he had nine children
— seven boys and. two girls. The third of these, and the eldest of
the daughters, was the Saint, Dona Teresa Sanchez Cepeda Davila y
Ahumada. In the monastery of the Incarnation, where she was a
professed nun for twenty-eight years, she was known as Dona
Teresa; but in the year 1563, when she left her monastery for the
new foundation of S. Joseph, of the Reform oJ" the Carmelites, she
took for the first time the name of Teresa of Jesus (De la Fuente}.
The Saint was born March 28, 1515, and baptised April 4, in the
church of S. John; on which day Mass was said for the first time
in the monastery of the Incarnation, where the Saint made her pro-
fession. Her godfather was Vela Nunez, and her godmother Dona
Maria del Aguila. The Bollandists and F. Bouix say that she was
baptised on the very day of her birth. But the testimony of Dona
Maria de Pinel, a nun in the monastery of the Incarnation, is clear; and
Don Vicente de la Fuente, quoting it, vol. i. p. 549, says that this
delay of baptism was nothing singular in those days, provided there
was no danger of death.
3 Rodrigo de Cepeda, four years older than the Saint, entered the
army, and, serving in South America, was drowned in the river Plate,
Rio de la Plata. S. Teresa always considered him a martyr, because
he died in defence of the Catholic faith (Ribera, lib. i. ch. iv.V
Before he sailed for the Indies, he made his will, and left all his
property to the Saint, his sister (Reformn de hs Dcscalcos. vol. 1. lib.
i. ch. iii. § 4).
4 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. I.
to die a martyr's death, — not out of any love of Him of which
I was conscious, but that 1 might most quickly attain to the
fruition of those great joys of which I read that they were
reserved in heaven; and I used to discuss with my brother
how we could become martyrs. We settled to go together
to the country of the Moors,1 begging our way for the love
of God, that we might be there beheaded,2 and our Lord, I
believe, had given us courage enough, even at so tender an
age, if we could have found the means to proceed; but our
greatest difficulty seemed to be our father and mother.
5. It astonished us greatly to find it said in what we were
reading that pain and bliss were everlasting. We happened
very often to talk about this; and we had a pleasure in re
peating frequently, "For ever, ever, ever." Through the
constant uttering of these words, our Lord was pleased that
I should receive an abiding impression of the way of truth
when I was yet a child.
6. As soon as I saw it was impossible to go to any place
where people would put me to death for the sake of God,
my brother and I set about becoming hermits; and in an
orchard belonging to the house we contrived, as well as we
could, to build hermitages, by piling up small stones one on
the other, which fell down immediately; and so it came to
pass that we found no means of accomplishing our wish.
Even now, I have a feeling of devotion when I consider how
God gave me in my early youth what I lost by my own fault.
I gave alms as I could— and I could but little. I contrived
to be alone, for the sake of saying my prayers,3— and they
1 The Bollandists incline to believe that S. Teresa may not have
intended to quit Spain, because all the Moors were not at that time
driven out of the country. The Bull of the Saint's canonisation, and
the Lections of the Breviary, say that she left her father's house,
ut in Africam trajiceret.
2 The two children set out on their strange journey — one of them
seven, the other eleven, years old— through the Adaja Gate; but when
they had crossed the bridge, they were met by one of their uncles, who
brought them back to their mother, who had already sent through
Avila in quest of them. Rodrigo, like Adam, excused himself, and
laid the blame on the woman (Ribera, lib. i. ch. iv.). Francisco de
Santa Maria, chronicler of the Order, says that the uncle was Fran
cisco Alvarez de Cepeda (Re forma de los Descalgos, lib. i. ch. v. § 4).
She was also marvellously touched by the story of the Samar
itan woman at the wrell, of whom there was a picture in her room
(Ribera, lib. i. ch. iv.). She speaks of this later on. (See ch. xxx. § 24.)
t 11. i.j WRITTEN BY HERSELF.
were many, — especially the Rosary, to which my mother
had a great devotion, and had made us also in this like her
self. I used to delight exceedingly, when playing with other
children, in the building of monasteries, as if we were nuns ;
and I think I wished to be a nun, though not so much as I
did to be a martyr or a hermit.
7. I remember that, when my mother died,1 I was about
twelve years old — a little less. When I began to understand
my loss, I went in my affliction to an image of our Lady,2
and with many tears implored her to be my mother. I did
this in my simplicity, and I believe that it was of service to
me; for I have by experience found the royal Virgin help
me whenever I recommended myself to her; and at last she
has brought me back to herself. It distresses me now, when
I think of, and reflect on, that which kept me from being
earnest in the good desires with which I began.
8. O my Lord, since Thou art determined to save me,
— may it be the pleasure of Thy Majesty to effect it! — and
to bestow upon me so many graces, why has it not been
Thy pleasure also, — not for my advantage, but for Thy greater
honour, — that this habitation, wherein Thou hast continually
to dwell, should not have contracted so much defilement? It
distresses me even to say this, O my Lord, because I know
the fault is all my own, seeing that Thou hast left nothing-
undone to make me, even from my youth, wholly Thine.
When I would complain of my parents, I cannot do it ; for
I saw nothing in them but all good, and carefulness for my
welfare. Then, growing up, I began to discover the natural
gifts which our Lord had given me — they were said to be
many; and, when I should have given Him thanks for them,
I made use of every one of them, as I shall now explain, to
offend Him.
1 The last will and testament of Dona Beatriz de Ahumada was
made Nov. 24, 1528; and she may have died soon after. If there be
no mistake in the copy of that instrument, the Saint must have been
more than twelve years old at that time. Don Vicente, in a note,
says, with the Bollandists, that Dona Beatriz died at the end of the
year 1526, or in the beginning of 1527; but it is probable that, when
he wrote that note, he had not read the copy of the will, which he
has printed in the first volume of the Saint's writings, p. 550.
2 Our Lady of Charity, in the church of the hospital where the
poor and pilgrims were received in Avila (Bonix).
THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. I CH. II.
CHAPTER II.
EARLY IMPRESSIONS DANGEROUS BOOKS AND COMPANIONS —
THE SAINT IS PLACED IN A MONASTERY.
1. WHAT I shall now speak of was, I believe, the be
ginning of great harm to me. I often think how wrong it
is of parents not to be very careful that their children should
always, and in every way, see only that which is good; for
though my mother was, as I have just said, so good herself,
nevertheless I, when I came to the use of jeason, did not
derive so much good from her as I ought to have done —
almost none at all ; and the evil I learned did me much harm.
She was very fond of books of chivalry ; but this pastime did
not hurt her so much as it hurt me, because she never wasted
her time on them ; only we, her children, were left at liberty
to read them ; and perhaps she did this to distract her thoughts
from her great sufferings, and occupy her children, that they
might not go astray in other ways. It annoyed my father so
much, that we had to be careful he never saw us. I contracted
a habit of reading these books; and this little fault which I
observed in my mother was the beginning of lukewarmness
in my good desires, and the occasion of my falling away in
other respects. I thought there was no harm in it when I
wasted many hours night and day in so vain an occupation,
even when I kept it a secret from my father. So completely
was I mastered by this passion, that I thought I could never
be happy without a new book.
2. I began to make much of dress, to wish to please
others by my appearance. I took pains with my hands and
my hair, used perfumes, and all vanities within my reach —
and they were many, for I was very much given to them.
I had no evil intention, because I never wished any one to
offend God for me. This fastidiousness of excessive neat
ness1 lasted some years ; and so also did other practices,
1 The Saint throughout her life was extremely careful of cleanli
ness. In one of her letters to F. Jerome Gratian of the Mother of
God (No. 323, Letter 28, vol. iii., ed. Doblado), she begs him, for the
love of God, to see that the fathers had clean cells and table; and
the Ven. Mother Anne of S. Bartholomew, in her life (Bruxelles,
CH. II.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 7
which I thought then were not at all sinful ; now, I see how
wrong all this must have been.
3. I had some cousins ; for into my father's house no
others were allowed an entrance. In this he was very
cautious ; and would to God he had been cautious about them !
— for I see now the danger of conversing, at an age
when virtue should begin to grow, with persons who, knowing
nothing themselves of the vanity of the world, provoke others
to throw themselves into the midst of it. These cousins were
nearly of mine own age — a little older, perhaps. We were
always together; and they had a great affection for me. In
every thing that gave them pleasure, I kept the conversation
alive, — listened to the stories of their affections and childish
follies, good for nothing; and, what was still worse, my soul
began to give itself up to that which was the cause of all its
disorders. If I were to give advice, I would say to parents
that they ought to be very careful whom they allow to mix
with their children when young; for much mischief thence
ensues, and our natural inclinations are unto evil rather than
unto good.
4. So it was with me ; for I had a sister much older than
myself,1 from whose modesty and goodness, which were
great, I learned nothing; and learned every evil from a rela
tive who was often in the house. She was so light and friv
olous, that my mother took great pains to keep her out of
the house, as if she foresaw the evil I should learn from her;
but she could not succeed, there being so many reasons for
her coming.. I was very fond of this person's company, gos
siped and talked with her ; for she helped me in all the amuse
ments I liked, and, what is more, found some for me, and
communicated to me her own conversations and her vanities.
Until I knew her, I mean, until she became friendly with me,
and communicated to me her own affairs, — I was then about
fourteen years old, a little more, I think, — I do not believe
that I turned away from God in mortal sin, or lost the fear
1708, p. 40), says that she changed the Saint's linen on the day of
her death, and was thanked by her for her carefulness. "Her soul
was so pure," says the Yen. Mother, "that she could not bear any
thing that was not clean."
1 Maria de Cepeda, half-sister of the Saint. She was married to
Don Martin de Guzman y Barrientos; and the contract for the dowry
was signed Jan. 11, 1531 (Re forma dc los Descales, lib. i. ch. vii. § 4).
8 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [dl. II.
of Him, though I had a greater fear of disgrace. This latter
fear had such sway over me, that I never wholly forfeited
my good name, — and, as to that, there was nothing in the
world for which I would have bartered it, and nobody in the
world I liked well enough who could have persuaded me to do
it. Thus I might have had strength never to do any thing
against the honour of God, as I had it by nature not to fail
in that wherein I thought the honour of the world consisted ;
and I never observed that I was failing in many other ways.
In vainly seeking after it I was extremely careful ; but in the
use of the means necessary for preserving it I was utterlv
careless. I was anxious only not to be lost altogether.
5. This friendship distressed my father and sister exceed
ingly. They often blamed me for it; but, as they could not
hinder that person from coming into the house, all their efforts
\vere in vain ; for I was very adroit in doing any thing that
was wrong. Now and then, I am amazed at the evil one bad
companion can do, — nor could I believe it, if I did not know
it by experience, — especially when we are young: then is it
that the evil must be greatest. Oh, that parents would take
warning by me, and look carefully to this ! So it was ; the
conversation of this person so changed me, that no trace was
left of my soul's natural disposition to virtue, and I became
a reflection of her and of another who wras given to the same
kind of amusements.
6. I know from this the great advantage of good com
panions ; and I am certain that if at that tender age I had
been thrown among good people, I should have persevered in
virtue; for if at that time I had found any one to teach me
the fear of God, my soul would have grown strong enough
not to fall away. Afterwards, when the fear of God had
utterly departed from me, the fear of dishonour alone
remained, and was a torment to me in all I did. When I
thought that nobody would ever know, I ventured upon many
things that were neither honourable nor pleasing unto God.
7. In the beginning, these conversations did me harm —
I believe so. The fault was perhaps not hers, but mine ; for
afterwards my own wickedness was enough to lead me astray,
together with the servants about me, whom I found ready
enough for all evil. If any one of these had given me good
advice, I might perhaps have profited by it; but they were
blinded by interest, as I was by passion. Still, I was never
CH. II. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 9
inclined to much evil, — for I hated naturally any thing dis
honourable, — but only to the amusement of a pleasant con
versation. The occasion of sin, however, being present,
danger was at hand, and I exposed to it my father and
brothers. God delivered me out of it all, so that I should not
be lost, in a manner visibly against my will, yet not so secretly
as to allow me to escape without the loss of my good name
and the suspicions of my father.
8. I had not spent, I think, three months in these vanities,
when they took me to a monastery1 in the city where I lived,
in which children like myself were brought up, though their
way of life was not so wicked as mine. This was done with
the utmost concealment of the true reason, which was known
only to myself and one of my kindred. They waited for an
opportunity which would make the change seem nothing
out of the way; for, as my sister was married, it was not
fitting I should remain alone, without a mother, in the house.
9. So excessive was my father's love for me, and so
deep my dissembling, that he never would believe me to be
so wicked as I was ; and hence I was never in disgrace with
him. Though some remarks were made, yet, as the time had
been short, nothing could be positively asserted ; and, as I
was so much afraid about my good name, I had taken every
care to be secret ; and yet I never considered that I could
conceal nothing from Him who seeth all things. O my God,
what evil is done in the world by disregarding this, and think
ing that any thing can be kept secret that is done against
Thee ! I am quite certain that great evils would be avoided
if we clearly understood that what we have to do is, not to
be on our guard against men, but on our guard against dis
pleasing Thee.
10. For the first eight days, I suffered much ; but more
from the suspicion that my vanity was known, than from
being in the monastery ; for I was already weary of myself,
— and, though I offended God, I never ceased to have a
great fear of Him, and contrived to go to confession as quickly
as I could. I was very uncomfortable ; but within eight days,
I think sooner, I was much more contented than I had been
1 The Augustinian monastery of Our Lady of Grace. It was
founded in 1509 by the Venerable Fra Juan of Seville, Vicar-General
of the Order (Reforma de los D.escalgos, lib. i. ch. vii. n. 2.). There
were forty nuns in the house at this time (De la Fuente}.
10 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. III.
in my father's house. All the nuns were pleased with me;
for our Lord had given me the grace to please every one,
wherever I might be. I was therefore made much of in the
monastery. Though at this time I hated to be a nun, yet I
was delighted at the sight of nuns so good; for they were
very good in that house — very prudent, observant of the rule,
and recollected.
11. Yet, for all this, the devil did not cease to tempt me;
and people in the world sought means to trouble my rest
with messages and presents. As this could not be allowed,
it was soon over, and my soul began to return to the good
habits of my earlier years ; and I recognized the great mercy
of God to those whom He places among good people. It
seems as if His Majesty had sought and sought again how to
convert me to Himself. Blessed be Thou, O Lord, for having
borne with me so long! Amen.
12. Were it not for my many faults, there was some
excuse for me, I think, in this : that the conversation I shared
in was with one who, I thought, would do well in the estate
of matrimony;1 and I was told by my confessors, and others
also, whom in many points I consulted, used to say, that I
was not offending God. One of the nuns2 slept with us who
were seculars, and through her it pleased our Lord to give
me light, as I shall now explain.
CHAPTER III.
THE BLESSING OF BEING WITH GOOD PEOPLE — HOW CERTAIN
ILLUSIONS WERE REMOVED.
1. I BEGAN gradually to like the good and holy conver
sation of this nun. How well she used to speak of God ! for
1 Some have said that the Saint at this time intended, or wished,
to be married; and F. Bouix translates the passage thus: "une alliance
honorable pour moi." But it is more probable that the Saint had
listened only to the story of her cousin's intended marriage; for in
ch. v. § 12, she says that our Lord had always kept her from seeking
to be loved of men.
Dona Maria Brizeno, mistress of the secular children who were
educated in the monastery (Re forma, lib. i. ch. vii. § 3).
CH. III.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 11
she was a person of great discretion and sanctity. I listened
to her with delight. I think there never was a time when I
was not glad to listen to her. She began by telling me how-
she came to be a nun through the mere reading of the words
of the Gospel : "Many are called, and few are chosen."1 She
would speak of the reward which our Lord gives to those
who forsake all things for His sake. This good companion
ship began to root out the habits which bad companionship
had formed, and to bring my thoughts back to the desire of
eternal things, as well as to banish in some measure the great
dislike I had to be a nun, which had been very great ; and if
I saw any one weep in prayer, or devout in any other way,
I envied her very much ; for my heart was now so hard, that
I could not shed a tear, even if I read the Passion through.
This was a grief to me.
2. I remained in the monastery a year and a half, and
was very much the better for it. I began to say many vocal
prayers, and to ask all the nuns to pray for me, that God
would place me in that state wherein I was to serve Him;
but, for all this, I wished not to be a nun, and that God would
not be pleased I should be one, though at the same time I
was afraid of marriage. At the end of my stay there, I had
a greater inclination to be a nun, yet not in that house, on
account of certain devotional practices which I understood
prevailed there, and which I thought overstrained. Some
of the younger ones encouraged me in this my wish ; and if
all had been of one mind, I might have profited by it. I had
also a great friend2 in another monastery ; and this made me
resolve, if I \vas to be a nun, not to be one in any other house
than where she was. I looked more to the pleasure of sense
and vanity than to the good of my soul. These good thoughts
of being a nun came to me from time to time. They left me
very soon ; and I could not persuade myself to become one.
3. At this time, though I was not careless about my owrn
good, our Lord wras much more careful to dispose me for that
state of life which was best for me. He sent me a serious
illness, so that I was obliged to return to my father's house.
4. When I became well again, they took me to see my
1 S. Matt. xx. 16.
a Juana Suarez, in the monastery of the Incarnation, Avila
(Re forma, lib. i. ch. vii. § 7).
THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. III<
sister1 in her house in the country village where she dwelt.
Her love for me was so great, that, if she had had her will, I
should never have left her. Her husband also had a great
affection for me, — at least, he showed me all kindness. This,
too, I owe rather to our Lord, for I have received kindness
every where; and all my service in return is, that I am what
I am.
5. On the road lived a brother of my father- — a prudent
and most excellent man, then a widower. Him, too, our Lord
was preparing for Himself. In his old age, he left all his
possessions and became a religious. He so finished his course,
that I believe him to have the vision of God. He would have
me stay with him some days. His practice was to read good
books in Spanish ; and his ordinary conversation was about
God and the vanity of the world. These books he made me
read to him ; and, though I did not much like them, I appeared
as if I did ; for in giving pleasure to others I have been most
particular, though it might be painful to myself, — so much
so, that what in others might have been a virtue was in me
a great fault, because I was often extremely indiscreet. O
my God, in how many ways did His Majesty prepare me for
the state wherein it was His will I should serve Him ! — how,
against my own will, He constrained me to do violence to
myself ! May He be blessed for ever ! Amen.
6. Though I remained here but a few days, yet, through
the impression made on my heart by the words of God both
heard and read, and by the good conversation of my uncle,
I came to understand the truth I had heard in my childhood,
that all things are as nothing, the world vanity, and passing
rapidly away. I also began to be afraid that, if I were then
to die, I should go down to hell. Though I could not bend
my will to be a nun, I saw that the religious state was the
best and the safest. And thus, by little and little, I resolved
to force myself into it.
7. The struggle lasted three months. I used to press
this reason against myself: The trials and sufferings of living
1 Maria de Cepeda, married to Don Martin Guzman y Barrientos.
They lived in Castellanos de la Canada, where they had considerable
property; but in the later years of their lives they were in straitened
circumstances (De la Fuente). See below, ch. xxxiv. § 23.
z Don Pedro Sanchez de Cepeda. He lived in Hortigosa, four
leagues from Avila (De la Fuentc').
CH. IV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 13
as a nun cannot be greater than those of purgatory, and I
have well deserved to be in hell. It is not much to spend
the rest of my life as if I were in purgatory, and then go
straight to heaven — which was what I desired. I was more
influenced by servile fear, 1 think, than by love, to enter
religion.
8. The devil put before me that I could not endure the
trials of the religious life, because of my delicate nurture. I
defended myself against him by alleging the trials which
Christ endured, and that it was not much for me to suffer
something for His sake ; besides, He would help me to bear
it. I must have thought so, but I do not remember this last
consideration. I endured many temptations during these
days. I was subject to fainting-fits, attended with fever, —
for my health was always weak. I had become by this time
fond of good books, and that gave me life. I read the Epistles
of S. Jerome, which filled me with so much courage, that I
resolved to tell my father of my purpose, — which was almost
like taking the habit; for I was so jealous of my word, that
[ would never, for any consideration, recede from a promise
when once my word had been given.
9. My father's love for me was so great, that I could never
obtain his consent ; nor could the prayers of others, whom I
persuaded to speak to him, be of any avail. The utmost I could
get from him was that I might do as I pleased after his death.
I now began to be afraid of myself, and of my own weakness,
— for I might go back. So, considering that such waiting was
not safe for me, I obtained my end in another way, as I shall
now relate.
CHAPTER IV.
OUR LORD HELPS HER TO BECOME A NUN HER MANY
INFIRMITIES.
1. IN those days, when I was thus resolved, I had per
suaded one of my brothers,1 by speaking to him of the vanity
1 Antonio de Ahumada; who, according to the most probable
opinion, entered the Dominican monastery of S. Thomas, Avila. It
is said that he died before he was professed. Some say he joined the
Hieronymites; but this is not so probable (De la Fuente~). Ribera,
however, says that he did enter the noviciate of the Hieronymites,
but died before he was out of it (lib. i. ch. vi.).
14 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. IV.
of the world, to become a friar; and we agreed together to
set out one day very early in the morning for the monastery
where that friend of mine lived for whom I had so great an
affection i1 though I would have gone to any other monastery,
if I thought I should serve God better in it, or to any one
my father liked, so strong was my resolution now to become
a nun, — for I thought more of the salvation of my soul now,
and made no account whatever of mine own ease. I remem
ber perfectly well, and it is quite true, that the pain I felt
when I left my father's house was so great, that I do not
believe the pain of dying will be greater, — for it seemed to
me as if every bone in my body were wrenched asunder;2
for, as I had no love of God to destroy my love of father and
of kindred, this latter love came upon me with a violence so
great that, if our Lord had not been my keeper, my own
resolution to go on would have failed me. But He gave me
courage to fight against myself, so that I executed my
purpose.3
2. When I took the habit,4 our Lord at once made me
understand how He helps those who do violence to them
selves in order to serve Him. No one observed this violence
in me; they saw nothing but the greatest good will. At that
moment, because I was entering on that state, I was filled
with a joy so great, that it has never failed me to this day;
and God converted the aridity of my soul into the greatest
tenderness. Every thing in religion was a delight unto me ;
and it is true that now and then I used to sweep the house
during those hours of the day which I had formerly spent on
my amusements and my dress ; and, calling to mind that I
was delivered from such follies, I was filled with a new joy
that surprised me, nor could I understand whence it came.
1 Juana Suarez, in the monastery of the Incarnation, Avila.
2 See Relation, vi. § 3.
3 The nuns sent word to the father of his child's escape, and of
her desire to become a nun, but without any expectation of obtaining
his consent. He came to the monastery forthwith, and "offered up
his Isaac on Mount Carmel" (Re forma, lib. i. ch. viii. § 5).
4 The Saint entered the monastery of the Incarnation Nov. 2, 1533,
and made her profession Nov. 3, 1534 (Bollandlsts and Bouir').
Ribera says she entered Nov. 2, 1535; and the chronicler of the Order,
relying on the contract by which her father bound himself to the
monastery, says that she took the habit Nov. 2, 1536, and that Ribera
had made a mistake.
CH. IV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF 15
3. Whenever I remember this, there is nothing in the
world, however hard it may be, that, if it were proposed to
me, I would not undertake without any hesitation whatever;
for I know now, by experience in many things, that if from
the first I resolutely persevere in my purpose, even in this
life His Majesty rewards it in a way which he only under
stands who has tried it. When the act is done for God only,
it is His will before we begin it that the soul, in order to
the increase of its merits, should be afraid; and the greater
the fear, if we do but succeed, the greater the reward, and
the sweetness thence afterwards resulting. I know this by
experience, as I have just said, in many serious affairs ; and so if
I were a person who had to advise any body, I would never
counsel any one, to whom good inspirations from time to
time may come, to resist them through fear of the difficulty
of carrying them into effect ; for if a person lives detached
for the love of God only, that is no reason for being afraid of
failure, for He is omnipotent. May He be blessed for
ever! Amen.
4. O supreme Good, and my Rest, those graces ought to
have been enough which Thou hadst given me hitherto, see
ing that Thy compassion and greatness had drawn me through
so many windings to a state so secure, to a house where
there are so many servants of God, from whom I might learn
how I might advance in Thy service. I know not how to go
on, when I call to mind the circumstances of my profession,
the great resolution and joy with which I made it, and my
betrothal unto Thee. I cannot speak of it without tears ;
and my tears ought to be tears of blood, my heart ought to
break, and that would not be much to suffer because of the
many offences against Thee which I have committed since
that day. It seems to me now that I had good reasons for
not wishing for this dignity, seeing that I have made so sad
a use of it. But Thou, O my Lord, hast been willing to
bear with me for almost twenty years of my evil using of Thy
graces, till I might become better. It seems to me, O my
God, that I did nothing but promise, never to keep any of
the promises then made to Thee. Yet such was not my in
tention : but I 'see that what I have done since is of such a
mature, that I know not what my intention was. So it was
and so it happened, that it may be the better known, O my
Bridegroom, who Thou art and what I am.
16 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. IV.
5. It is certainly true that very frequently the joy I
have in that the multitude of Thy mercies is made known in
me, softens the bitter sense of my great faults. In whom,
O Lord, can they shine forth as they do in me, who by my
evil deeds have shrouded in darkness Thy great graces, which
Thou hadst begun to work in me ? Woe is me, O my Maker !
If I would make an excuse, I have none to offer; and I only
am to blame. For if I could return to Thee any portion of that
love which Thou hadst begun to show unto me, I would give
it only unto Thee, and then every thing would have been safe.
But, as I have not deserved this, nor been so happy as to have
done it, let Thy mercy, O Lord, rest upon me.
6. The change in the habits of my life, and in my food,
proved hurtful to my health; and though my happiness was
great, that was not enough. The fainting-fits began to be
more frequent; and my heart was so seriously affected, that
every one who saw it was alarmed; and I had also many
other ailments. And thus it was I spent the first year, having
very bad health, though I do not think I offended God in it
much. And as my illness was so serious, — I was almost in
sensible at all times, and frequently wholly so, — my father
took great pains to find some relief; and as the physicians
who attended me had none to give, he had me taken to a
place which had a great reputation for the cure of other in
firmities. They said I should find relief there.1 That friend
of whom I have spoken as being in the house went with me.
She was one of the elder nuns. In the house where I was a
nun, there was no vow of enclosure.2
7. I remained there nearly a year, for three months of
it suffering most cruel tortures — effects of the violent remedies
which they applied. I know not how I endured them; and,
indeed, though I submitted myself to them, they were, as I
shall relate,3 more than my constitution could bear.
1 Her father took her from the monastery in the autumn of 1535,
according to the Bollandists, but of 1538, according to the Chronicler,
who adds, that she was taken to her uncle's house, — Pedro Sanchez
de Cepeda, — in Hortigosa, and then to Castellanos de la Canada, to
the house of her sister, Dona Maria, where she remained till the
spring, when she went to Bezadas for her cure (Reforma, lib. i. ch.
xi. § 2).
It was in 1563 that all nuns were compelled to observe enclosure
(Fuente}.
3 Ch. v. § 15.
CH. IV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 17
8. I was to begin the treatment in the spring, and went
thither when winter commenced. The intervening time I
spent with my sister, of whom I spoke before,1 in her house
in the country, waiting for the month of April, which was
drawing near, that I might not have to go and return. The
uncle of whom I have made mention before,2 and whose house
was on our road, gave me a book called Tercer Abecedario,3
which treats of the prayer of recollection. Though in the
first year I had read good books, — for I would read no others,
because I understood now the harm they had done me, — I did
not know how to make my prayer, nor how to recollect my
self. I was therefore much pleased with the book, and re
solved to follow the way of prayer it described with all my
might. And as our Lord had already bestowed upon me the
gift of tears, and I found pleasure in reading, I began to spend
a certain time in solitude, to go frequently to confession, and
make a beginning of that way of prayer, with this book for
my guide ; for I had no master — I mean, no confessor — who
understood me, though I sought for such a one for twenty
years afterwards : which did me much harm, in that I fre
quently went backwards, and might have been even utterly
lost; for, anyhow, a director would have helped me to escape
the risks I ran of sinning against God.
9. From the very beginning, God was most gracious unto
me. Though I was not so free from sin as the book required,
I passed that by ; such watchfulness seemed to me almost
impossible. I was on my guard against mortal sin — and
would to God I had always been so ! — but I wras careless
about venial sins, and that was my ruin. Yet, for all this,
at the end of my stay there, — I spent nearly nine months in
the practice of solitude, — our Lord began to comfort me so
much in this way of prayer, as in His mercy to raise me to
the prayer of quiet, and now and then to that of union,
though I understood not what either the one or the other
was, nor the great esteem I ought to have had of them. I
believe it would have been a great blessing to me if I had
understood the matter. It is true that the prayer of union
lasted but a short time : I know not if it continued for the
1 Ch. iii. § 4. 2 Ch. iii. § 5.
3 By Fray Francisco de Osuna, of the Order of S. Francis
(Re forma, lib. i. ch. xi. § 2).
IS THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. IV.
space of an Ave Maria; but the fruits of it remained; and
they were such that, though I was then not twenty years of
age, I seemed to despise the world utterly ; and so I remember
how sorry I was for those who followed its ways, though
only in things lawful.
10. I used to labour with all my might to imagine Jesus
Christ, our Good and our Lord, present within me. And this
was the way I prayed. If I meditated on any mystery of
His life, I represented it to myself as within me, though the
greater part of my time I spent in reading good books, which
was all my comfort; for God never endowed me with the gift
of making reflections with the understanding, or with that
of using the imagination to any good purpose : my imagi
nation is so sluggish,1 that even if I would think of, or picture
to myself, as I used to labour to picture, our Lord's Humanity.
I never could do.it.
11. And though men may attain more quickly to the
state of contemplation, if they persevere, by this way of in
ability to exert the intellect, yet is the process more laborious
and painful ; for if the will have nothing to occupy it, and if
love have no present object to rest on, the soul is without
support and without employment — its isolation and dryness
occasion great pain, and the thoughts assail it most griev
ously. Persons in this condition must have greater purity
of conscience than those who can make use of their under
standing; for he who can use his intellect in the way of
meditation on what the world is, on what he owes to God,
on the great sufferings of God for him, his own scanty service
in return, and on the reward God reserves for those who love
Him, learns how to defend himself against his own thoughts,
and against the occasions and perils of sin. On the other
hand, he who has not that power is in greater danger, and
ought to occupy himself much in reading, seeing that he is
not in the slightest degree able to help himself.
12. This way of proceeding is so exceedingly painful,
that if the master who teaches it insists on cutting off the
succours which reading gives, and requires the spending of
much time in prayer, then, I say, it will be impossible to
persevere long in it; and if he persists in his plan, health
will be ruined, because it is a most painful process. Reading
1 See ch. ix. §§ 4, 7.
CH. IV. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 19
is of great service towards procuring recollection in any one
who proceeds in this way ; and it is even necessary for him,
however little it mav be that he reads, if only as a substitute
for the mental prayc. v'hich is beyond his reach.
13. Now I seem to understand that it wras the good provi
dence of our Lord over me that found no one to teach me.
If I had, it would have been impossible for me to persevere
during the eighteen years of my trial and of those great
aridities, because of my inability to meditate. During all this
time, it was only after Communion that I ever ventured to
begin my prayer without a book, — my soul was as much
afraid to pray without one, as if it 1 ad to fight against a host.
With a book to help me, — it wa.c lik~ a companion, and a
shield whereon to recpi'-e the blows ot many thoughts, — I
found comfort; for it \vas not ir:ua! with me to be in aridity;
but I always was so when I had no book ; for my soul was
disturbed, and my thoughts wandered at once. With one,
I began to collect my thoughts, and, usinp; i* as a decoy, kept
my soul in peace, very frequently by merel}' opening a book
— there was no necessity for more. Sometimes, I read but
little; at other times, much — according as our Lord had pity
on me.
14. It seemed to me, in these beginnings of which i am
speaking, that there could be no danger capable of with
drawing me from so great a blessing, if I had but books, and
could have remained alone ; and I believe that, by the grace of
God, it would have been so, if I had had a master or any one to
warn me against those occasions of sin in the beginning, and,
if I fell, to bring me quickly out of them. If the devil had
assailed me openly then, I believe I should never have fallen
into any grievous sin ; but he was so subtle, and I so weak,
that all my good resolutions were of little service, — though,
in those days in which I served God, they were very profitable
in enabling me, with that patience which His Majesty gave
me, to endure the alarming illnesses which I had to bear. I
have often thought with wonder of the great goodness of
God ; and my soul has rejoiced in the contemplation of His
great magnificence and mercy. May He be blessed for ever!
—for I see clearly that He has not omitted to reward me,
even in this life, for every one of my good desires. My good
works, howrever wretched and imperfect, have been made
better and perfected by Him who is my Lord : He has
20 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. V.
rendered them meritorious. As to my evil deeds and my
sins, He hid them at once. The eyes of those who saw them,
He made even blind; and He has blotted them out of their
memory. He gilds 1113- faults, makes virtue to shine forth,
giving it to me Himself, and compelling me to possess it,
as it were, by force.
15. I must now return to that which has been enjoined
me. I say, that if I had to describe minutely how our Lord
dealt with me in the beginning, it would be necessary for
me to have another understanding than that I have: so that
I might be able to appreciate what I owe to Him, together
with my own ingratitude and wickedness ; for I have for
gotten it all.
May He be blessed for ever who has borne with me so
long ! Amen.
CHAPTER V.
ILLNESS AND PATIENCE OF THE SAINT THE STORY OF A
PRIEST WHOM SHE RESCUED FROM A LIFE OF SIN.
1. I FORGOT to say how, in the year of my noviciate, 1
suffered much uneasiness about things in themselves of no
importance; but I was found fault with very often when I
was blameless. I bore it painfully and with imperfection ;
however, I went through it all, because of the joy I had in
being a nun. When they saw me seeking to be alone, and
even weeping over my sins at times, they thought I was dis
contented, and said so.
2. All religious observances had an attraction for me.
but I could not endure any which seemed to make me con
temptible. I delighted in being thought well of by others,
and was very exact in every thing I had to do. All this I
thought was a virtue, though it will not serve as any excuse
for me, because I knew what it was to procure my own satis
faction in every thing, and so ignorance does not blot out
the blame. There may be some excuse in the fact that the
monastery was not founded in great perfection. I, wicked
as I was, followed after that which I saw was wrong, and
neglected that which was good.
AV1L.A — ST. TJSK.ESAS HOME.
Hye Hoys . del
1. Topography of Avila and its environs outlined by M. Hye Hoys in
1866. In the right hand corner local costumes. a. Monastery of the Discalced
Carmelites, on the site of St. Teresa's birthplace. b. Church of Saint Juan.
c. House of Vela Nunez. d. The Adaja Bridge. e. Ancient monument called the
Four Columns on the road to Salamanca. /. Site of the Oratory of Our Lady of
Charity, g. Augustinian Convent where she was a scholar, h. Ruins of the Monas
tery of the Calced Carmelites, later a prison. i. Monastery of the Incarnation,
Calced Carmelites j. Dominican Monastery of Saint Thomas, formerly the univer
sity of Avila. k. Church of Saint Vincent where Saint Teresa left her shoes when
she embraced the Reform Rule. 1. Church of Saint Giles, near which stood origin-
ally the Jesuit College. m. Saint Joseph's Monastery, Discalced Carmelites. n.
Franciscan Convent whose nuns, called Gordillas, came to the aid of the first
Reformed Carmelites, o. Gate of the City, called the Saint's Gate. p. Plaauela de
los Cepedas, where still stand the houses of relatives of the Saint, q. House for
merly occupied by a del Aguila. r. Church called Mosen Ruhi de Bracamoute.
s. Cathedral, t. Episcopal Palace and Church of Saint Thomas, second site of the
Jesuit College. u. Alcazar, or ancient royal residence. v. Church of St. Second,
first site of the Monastery of Discalced Carmelites, transferred from Mancera.
w. Second site of this monastery, to-day the Hospital of the Misericordia.
II.
Bruges. P Raoux. Sc
a?. Church of Saint Dominic of Silos, y. Ruins of the Franciscan convent, burial place
of the parents of Saint Teresa, z. San Miguel del Arroyo, seigniory of the Davilas.
2. Principal gate, called the Alcaza Gate. 3. The Saint's Gate. In the back
ground the Monastery of Discalced Carmelites. 4. Door of the room where St.
Teresa was born, enclosed in the present monastery of Discalced Carmelites. This
oratory adjoins the church and the faithful are admitted. At the side, a cross
made of the wood of the alcove. 5. Altar in this room. The statue of the Saint which
surmounts it was carved by the celebrated Hernandez. 6. Western wall, with
paintings representing the birth of the Saint, her flight as a child, and her her
mitages. 1. Northern wall. Above, the vesting of St. Teresa in the Monastery
of the Incarnation; her vision of our Risen Lord and the Transverberation ; below,
Jesuits and Franciscans. 8. Southern wall. Above, yisions of the necklace, the
Holy Trinity, and the nail of betrothal; below, Dominicans and Carmelites.
9. Ceiling of the room. 10. Its pavements of enameled tiles. 11. Memorial Tablet
in the exterior wall of the apartment. 12. Escutcheon of Isabella II., Queen of
Spain in 1866. 13. Arms of Ferdinand Blanco, Bishop of Avila in 1866. 14.
Arms of Old Castile, the province in which Avila is situated. 13. Arms of the
city of Avila. (See Appendix, note 2.)
CH. V.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 21
3. There was then in the house a nun labouring under
a most grievous and painful disorder, for there were open
ulcers in her body, caused by certain obstructions, through
which her food was rejected. Of this sickness she soon died.
All the sisters, I saw, were afraid of her malady. I envied
her patience very much ; I prayed to God that He would
give me a like patience ; and then, whatever sickness it might
be His pleasure to send, I do not think I was afraid of any,
for I was resolved on gaining eternal good, and determined
to gain it by any and by every means.
4. I am surprised at myself because then I had not, as
I believe, that love of God which I' think I had after I began
to pray. Then, I had only light to see that all things that
pass away are to be lightly esteemed, and that the good things
to be gained by despising them are of great price, because
they are for ever. His Majesty heard me also in this, for in
less than two years Twas so afflicted myself that the illness
which I had, though of a different kind from that of the
sister, was, I really believe, not less painful and trying for the
three years it lasted, as I shall now relate.
5. When the time had come for which I was waiting
in the place I spoke of before1 — I was in my sister's house,
for the purpose of undergoing the medical treatment — they
took me away with the utmost care of my comfort; that is,
my father, my sister, and the nun, my friend, who had come
from the monastery with me, — for her love for me was very
great. At that moment, Satan began to trouble my soul ;
God, however, brought forth a great blessing out of that
trouble.
6. In the place to which I had gone for my cure lived
a priest of good birth and understanding, with some learning,
but not much. I went to confession to him, for I was always
fond of learned men, although confessors indifferently learned
did my soul much harm ; for I did not always find confessors
whose learning was as good as I could wish it was. I know
by experience that it is better, if the confessors are good
men and of holy lives, that they should have no learning
at all, than a little ; for such confessors never trust them
selves without consulting those who are learned — nor would
1 Ch. iv. § 6. The person to whom she was taken was a woman
famous for certain cures she had wrought, but whose skill proved
worse than useless to the Saint (Reforma, lib. i. ch. ii. § 2).
22 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. V.
I trust them myself: and a really learned confessor never
deceived me.1 Neither did the others willingly deceive me,
only they knew no better; I thought they were learned, and
that I was not under any other obligation than that of be
lieving them, as their instructions to me were lax, and left
me more at liberty — for if they had been strict with me, I am so
wicked, I should have sought for others. That which was
a venial sin, they told me wras no sin at all ; of that which was
most grievously mortal, they said it was venial.2
7. This did me so much harm, that it is no wonder I
should speak of it here as a warning to others, that they
may avoid an evil so great ; for I see clearly that in the eyes
of God I was without excuse, that the things I did being in
themselves not good, this should have been enough to keep
me from them. I believe that God, by reason of my sins,
allowed those confessors to deceive themselves and to deceive
me. I myself deceived many others by saying to them what
had been said to me.
8. I continued in this blindness, I believe, more than
seventeen years, till a most learned Dominican father3 un
deceived me in part, and those of the Company of Jesus made
me altogether so afraid, by insisting on the erroneousness of
these principles, as I shall hereafter show.4
9. I began, then, by going to confession to that priest
of whom I spoke before.5 He took an extreme liking to me,
because I had then but little to confess in comparison with
what I had afterwards ; and I had never much to say since
I became a nun. There was no harm in the liking he had for
me, but it ceased to be good, because it was in excess. He
clearly understood that I was determined on no account what
ever to do any thing whereby God might be seriously offended.
He, too, gave me a like assurance about himself, and accord-
1 Schram, Theolog. Mystic., § 483. "Magni cloctores scholastic!,
si non sint spirituales, vel omni rerum spiritualium experientia careant,
non solent esse magistri spirituales idonei, — nam theologia scholastica
est perfectio intellectus; mystica, perfectio intellectus et voluntatis:
unde bonus theologus scholasticus potest esse malus theologus
mysticus. In rebus tamen difficilibus, dubiis, spiritualibus, pnestat
mediocriter spiritualem theologum consulere quam spiritualem
idiotam."
2 See Way of Perfection, ch. viii. § 2; but ch. v. ed. Doblado.
3 F. Vicente Barron (Bouix}. * See ch. xxiii. 5 § 6.
CH. V.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 23
ingly our conferences were many. But at that time, through
the knowledge and fear of God which filled my soul, what
gave me most pleasure in all my conversations with others
was to speak of God ; and as I was so young, this made him
ashamed ; and then, out of that great good-will he bore me,
he began to tell me of his wretched state. It was very sad,
for he had been nearly seven years in a most perilous condi
tion, because of his affection for, and conversation with, a
woman of that place ; and yet he used to say Mass. The
matter was so public, that his honour and good name were
lost, and no one ventured to speak to him about it. I was
extremely sorry for him, because I liked him much. I was
then so imprudent and so blind as to think it a virtue to
be grateful and loyal to one who liked me. Cursed be that
loyalty which reaches so far as to go against the law of
God. It is a madness common in the world, and it makes
me mad to see it. We are indebted to God for all the good
that men do to us, and yet we hold it to be an act of virtue
not to break a friendship of this kind, though it lead us to
go against Him. Oh, blindness of the world ! Let me, O
Lord, be most ungrateful to the world; never at all unto
Thee. But I have been altogether otherwise through my
sins.
10. I procured further information about the matter
from members of his household ; I learned more of his ruinous
state, and saw that the poor man's fault was not so grave,
because the miserable woman had had recourse to enchant
ments, by giving him a little image made of copper, which
she had begged him to wear for love of her around his neck;
and this no one had influence enough to persuade him to
throw away. As to this matter of enchantments, I do not
believe it to be altogether true ; but I will relate what I saw,
by way of warning to men to be on their guard against women
who will do things of this kind. And let them be assured
of this, that women, — for they are more bound to purity than
men, — if once they have lost all shame before God, are in
nothing whatever to be trusted ; and that in exchange for
the gratification of their wrill, and of that affection which the
devil suggests, they will hesitate at nothing.
11. Though I have been so wicked myself, I never fell
into anything of this kind, nor did I ever attempt to do evil ;
nor, if I had the power, would I have ever constrained any one
24 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. V.
to like me, for our Lord kept me from this. But if He had
abandoned me, I should have done wrong in this, as I did
in other things, — for there is nothing in me whereon any one
may rely.
12. When I knew this, I began to show him greater
affection: my intention was good, but the act was wrong,
for I ought not to do the least wrong for the sake of any
good, how great soever it may be. I spoke to him most fre
quently of God; and this must have done him good — though
I believe that what touched him most was his great affection
for me, because, to do me a pleasure, he gave rne that little
image of copper, and I had it at once thrown into a river.
When he had given it up, like a man roused from deep sleep,
he began to consider all that he had done in those years ; and
then, amazed at himself, lamenting his ruinous state, that
woman came to be hateful in his eyes. Our Lady must have
helped him greatly, for he had a very great devotion to her
Conception, and used to keep the feast thereof with great
solemnity. In short, he broke off all relations with that
woman utterly, and was never weary of giving God thanks
for the light He had given him; and at the end of the year
from the day I first saw him, he died.
13. He had been most diligent in the service of God;
and as for that great affection he had for me, I never observed
any thing wronginit,thoughitmight havebeenof greater purity.
There were also occasions wherein he might have most griev
ously offended, if he had not kept himself in the near presence
of God. As I said before,1 I would not then have done any
thing I knew was a mortal sin. And I think that observing
this resolution in me helped him to have that affection for
me; for I believe that all men must have a greater affection
for those women whom they see disposed to be good: and
even for the attainment of earthly ends, women must have
more power over men because they are good, as I shall
show hereafter. I am convinced that the priest is in the way
of salvation. He died most piously, and completely with
drawn from that occasion of sin. It seems that it was the
will of our Lord he should be saved by these means.
14. I remained three months in that place, in the most
grievous sufferings; for the treatment was too severe for my
tonstitution. In two months — so strong were the medicines —
1 § 9.
CH. V.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 25
my life was nearly worn out ; and the severity of the pain in
the heart,1 for the cure of which I was there, was much more
keen : it seemed to me, now and then, as if it had been seized
by sharp teeth. So great was the torment, that it was feared
it might end in madness. There was a great loss of strength,
for I could eat nothing whatever, only drink. I had a great
loathing for food, and a fever that never left me. I \vas
so reduced, for they had given me purgatives daily for nearly
a month, and so parched up, that my sinews began to shrink.
The pains I had were unendurable, and I was overwhelmed
in a most deep sadness, so that I had no rest either night
or day.
15. This was the result; and thereupon my father took
me back. Then the physicians visited me again. All gave
me up ; they said I was also consumptive. This gave me
little or no concern; what distressed me were the pains I
had — for I was in pain from my head down to my feet. Now,
nervous pains, according to the physicians, are intolerable ;
and all my nerves were shrunk. Certainly, if I had not
brought this upon myself by my sins, the torture would have
been unendurable.
16. I was not more than three months in this cruel dis
tress, for it seemed impossible that so many ills could be
borne together. I now am astonished at myself; and the
patience His Majesty gave me — for it clearly came from Him
— I look upon as a great mercy of our Lord. It was a great
help to me to be patient, that I had read the story of Job,
in the Morals of S. Gregory (our Lord seems to have pre
pared me thereby) ; and that I had begun the practice of
prayer, so that I might bear it all, conforming my will to
the will of God. All my conversation was with God. I had
continually these words of Job in my thoughts and in my
mouth : "If we have received good things of the hand of our
Lord, why should we not receive evil things?"2 This seemed
to give me courage.
17. The feast of our Lady, in August, came round; from
April until then I had been in great pain, but more especially
during the last three months. I made haste to go to con
fession, for I had always been very fond of frequent con
fession. They thought I was driven by the fear of death ;
1 Ch. iv. § 6. 2 Job. ii. 10.
26 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. V.
and so my father, in order to quiet me, would not suffer me
to go. Oh, the unreasonable love of flesh and blood ! Though
it was that of a father so Catholic and so wise — he was very
much so, and this act of his could not be the effect of any
ignorance on his part — what evil it might have done me !
18. That very night my sickness became so acute, that
for about four days I remained insensible. They administered
the Sacrament of the last Anointing, and every hour, or rather
every moment, thought I was dying; they did nothing but
repeat the Credo, as if I could have understood anything they
said. They must have regarded me as dead more than once,
for I found afterwards drops of wax on my eyelids. My
father, because he had not allowed me to go to confession,
was grievously distressed. Loud cries and many prayers
were made to God : blessed be He who heard them.
19. For a day and a half the grave was open in my
monastery, waiting for my body;1 and the friars of our Order,
in a house at some distance from this place, performed funeral
solemnities. But it pleased our Lord I should come to my
self. I wished to go to confession at once. I communicated
with many tears ; but I do not think those tears had their
source in that pain and sorrow only for having offended
God, which might have sufficed for my salvation — unless, in
deed, the delusion which I laboured under were some excuse
for me, and into which I had been led by those who had
told me that some things were not mortal sins which after
wards I found were so certainly.
20. Though my sufferings were unendurable, and my
perceptions dull, yet my confession, I believe, was complete
as to all matters wherein I understood myself to have offended
God. This grace, among others, did His Majesty bestow on
me, that ever since my first Communion never in confession
have I failed to confess any thing I thought to be a sin,
though it might be only a venial sin. But I think that un
doubtedly my salvation was in great peril, if I had died at
that time — partly because my confessors were so unlearned,
and partly because I was so very wicked. It is certainly true
that when I think of it, and consider how our Lord seems
1 Some of the nuns of the Incarnation were in the house, sent
thither from the monastery; and, but for the father's disbelief in her
death, would have taken her home for burial (Ribera, lib. i. ch. vii.~).
CH. VI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 27
to have raised me up from the dead, I am so filled with
wonder, that I almost tremble with fear.1
21. And now, O my soul, it were well for thee to look that
danger in the face from which our Lord delivered thee ; and
if thou dost not cease to offend Him out of love, thou shouldst
do so out of fear. He might have slain thee a thousand times,
and in a far more perilous state. I believe I exaggerate noth
ing if I say a thousand times again, though he may rebuke
me who has commanded me to restrain myself in recounting
my sins; and they are glossed over enough. I pray him,
for the love of God, not to suppress one of my faults, because
herein shines forth the magnificence of God, as well as His
long-suffering towards souls. May He be blessed for ever
more, and destroy me utterly, rather than let me cease to love
Him any more!
CHAPTER VI.
THE GREAT DEBT SHE OWED TO OUR LORD FOR HIS MERCY TO
HER — SHE TAKES S. JOSEPH FOR HER PATRON.
1. AFTER those four days, during which I was insensible,
so great was my distress, that our Lord alone knoweth the
intolerable sufferings I endured. My tongue was bitten to
pieces ; there was a choking in my throat because I had taken
nothing, and because of my weakness, so that I could not
swallow even a drop of water; all my bones seemed to be
out of joint, and the disorder of my head was extreme. I
was bent together like a coil of ropes — for to this was I
brought by the torture of those days — unable to move either
arm, or foot, or hand, or head, any more than if I had been
dead, unless others moved me ; I could move, however, I
think, one finger of my right hand. Then, as to touching
me, that was impossible, for I was so bruised that I could
not endure it. They used to move me in a sheet, one hold-
1 Ribera, lib. i. ch. vii., says he heard Fra Banes, in a sermon, say
that the Saint told him she had, during these four days, seen hell in
a vision. And the Chronicler says that though there was bodily ill
ness, yet it was a trance of the soul at the same time (vol. i. lib.
i. ch. xii. § 3").
28 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. VI.
ing one end, and another the other. This lasted till Palm Sun
day.1
2. The only comfort I had was this, — if no one came near
me, my pains frequently ceased; and then, because I had a
little rest, I considered myself well, for I was afraid my
patience would fail : and thus I was exceedingly happy when
I saw myself free from those pains which were so sharp and
constant, though in the cold fits of an intermittent fever,
which were most violent, they were still unendurable. My
dislike of food was very great.
3. I was now so anxious to return to my monastery,
that I had myself conveyed thither in the state I was in. There
they received alive one whom they had waited for as dead ;
but her body was worse than dead : the sight of it could only
give pain. It is impossible to describe my extreme weakness,
for I was nothing but bones. I remained in this state, as I
have already said,2 more than eight months ; and was para
lytic, though getting better, for about three years. I praised
God when I began to crawl on my hands and knees. I bore
all this with great resignation, and, if I except the beginning
of my illness, with great joy; for all this was as nothing
in comparison with the pains and tortures I had to bear at
first. I was resigned to the will of God, even if He left me
in this state for ever. My anxiety about the recovery of my
health seemed to be grounded on my desire to pray in soli
tude, as I had been taught ; for there were no means of doing
so in the infirmary. I went to confession most frequently,
spoke much about God, and in such a way as to edify every
one; and they all marvelled at the patience which our Lord
gave me — for if it had not come from the hand of His Majesty,
it seemed impossible to endure so great an affliction with so
great a joy.
1 March 25, 1537.
2 Ch. v. § 17. The Saint left her monastery in 1535; and in the
spring of 1536 went from her sister's house to Bezadas; and in July
of that year was brought back to her father's house in Avila, wherein
she remained till Palm Sunday, 1537, when she returned to the
monastery of the Incarnation. She had been seized with paralysis
there, and laboured under it nearly three years, from 1536 to 1539,
when she was miraculously healed through the intercession of S.
Joseph (Holland, n. 100, 101). The dates of the Chronicler are different
from these.
CH. VI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 29
4. It was a great thing for me to have had the grace
of prayer which God had wrought in me ; it made me under
stand what it is to love Him. In a little while, I saw these
virtues renewed within me; still they were not strong, for
they were not sufficient to sustain me in justice. I never
spoke ill in the slightest degree whatever of any one, and my
ordinary practice was to avoid all detraction ; for I used to keep
most carefully in mind that I ought not to assent to, nor say
of another, any thing I should not like to have said of my
self. I was extremely careful to keep this resolution on all
occasions ; though not so perfectly, upon some great occasions
that presented themselves, as not to break it sometimes. But
my ordinary practice was this : and thus those who were
about me, and those with whom I conversed, became so con
vinced it was right, that they adopted it as a habit. It came
to be understood that where I was, absent persons were safe ;
so they were also with my friends and kindred, and with those
whom I instructed. Still, for all this, I have a strict account
to give unto God for the bad example I gave in other respects.
May it please His Majesty to forgive me for I have been the
cause of much evil ; though not with intentions as perverse
as were the acts that followed.
5. The longing for solitude remained, and I loved to dis
course and speak of God ; for if I found any one with whom I
could do so, it was a greater joy and satisfaction to me than
all the refinements — or rather, to speak more correctly, the real
rudeness— of the world's conversation. I communicated and
confessed more frequently still, and desired to do so; I wras
extremely fond of reading good books ; I was most deeply
penitent for having offended God ; and I remember that very
often I did not dare to pray, because I was afraid of that most
bitter anguish which I felt for having offended God, dreading
it as a great chastisement. This gre\v upon me afterwards
to so great a degree, that I know of no torment wherewith
to compare it ; and yet it was neither more nor less because
of any fear I had at any time, for it came upon me only when
I remembered the consolations of our Lord which He gave
me in prayer, the great debt I owed Him, the evil return I
made; I could not bear it. I was also extremely angry with
myself on account of the many tears I shed for my faults,
when I saw how little I improved, seeing that neither my
good resolutions, nor the pains I took, were sufficient to keep
30 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [cil. VI.
me from falling whenever I had the opportunity. I looked
on my tears as a delusion ; and my faults, therefore, I regarded
as the more grievous, because I saw the great goodness of
our Lord to me in the shedding of those tears, and together
with them such deep compunction.
6. I took care to go to confession as soon as I could ;
and, as I think, did all that was possible on my part to return
to a state of grace. But the whole evil lay in my not thor
oughly avoiding the occasions of sin, and in my confessors,
who helped me so little. If they had told me that I was travel
ling on a dangerous road, and that I was bound to abstain
from those conversations, I believe, without any doubt, that
the matter would have been remedied, because I could not
bear to remain even for one day in mortal sin, if I knew it.
7. All these tokens of the fear of God came to me through
prayer; and the greatest of them was this, that fear was
swallowed up of love, — for I never thought of chastisement.
All the time I was so ill, my strict watch over my conscience
reached to all that is mortal sin.
8. O my God! I wished for health, that I might serve
Thee better; that was the cause of all my ruin. For when
I saw how hopeless I was through paralysis, being still so
young, and how the physicians of this world had dealt with
me, I determined to ask those of heaven to heal me — for I
wished, nevertheless, to be well, though I bore my illness with
great joy. Sometimes, too, I used to think that if I recovered
my health, and yet were lost for ever, I was better as I was.
But, for all that, I thought I might serve God much better
if I were wrell. This is our delusion : we do not resign our
selves absolutely to the disposition of our Lord, who knows
best what is for our good.
9. I began by having Masses and prayers said for my
intention — prayers that were highly sanctioned; for I never
liked those other devotions which some people, especially
women, make use of with a ceremoniousness to me intolerable,
but which move them to be devout. I have been given to
understand since that they were unseemly and superstitious ;
and I took for my patron and lord the glorious S. Joseph,
and recommended myself earnestly to him. I saw clearly
that both out of this my present trouble, and out of others
of greater importance, relating to my honour and the loss
of my soul, this my father and lord delivered me, and rendered
CH. VI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 31
me greater services than I knew how to ask for. I cannot
call to mind that I have ever asked him at any time for any
thing which he has not granted ; and I am filled with amaze
ment when I consider the great favours which God hath given
me through this blessed Saint; the dangers from which he
hath delivered me, both of body and of soul. To other Saints,
our Lord seems to have given grace to succour men in some
special necessity ; but to this glorious Saint, I know by ex
perience, to help us in all : and our Lord would have us under
stand that, as He was Himself subject to him upon earth, —
for S. Joseph having the title of father, and being His guardian,
could command Him, — so now in heaven He performs all
his petitions. I have asked others to recommend themselves
to S. Joseph, and they too know this by experience ; and there
are many who are now of late devout to him,1 having had
experience of this truth.
10. I used to keep his feast with all the solemnity I
could, but with more vanity than spirituality, seeking rather
too much splendour and effect, and yet with good intentions.
I had this evil in me, that if our Lord gave me grace to do
any good, that good became full of imperfections and of many
faults ; but as for doing wrong, the indulgence of curiosity
and vanity, I was very skillful and active therein. Our Lord
forgive me !
11. Would that I could persuade all men to be devout
to this glorious Saint ; for I know by long experience what
blessings he can obtain for us from God. I have never known
any one who was really devout to him, and who honoured
him by particular services, who did not visibly grow more
and more in virtue ; for he helps in a special way those souls
who commend themselves to him. It is now some years since
I have always on his feast asked him for something, and I
always have it. If the petition be in any way amiss, he di
rects it aright for my greater good.
1 Of the devotion to S. Joseph, F. Faber (The Blessed Sacrament,
bk. ii. p. 199, 3d ed.) says that it took its rise in the west, in a
confraternity in Avignon. "Then it spread over the Church. Gerson
was raised up to be its doctor and theologian, and S. Teresa to be
its Saint, and S. Francis of Sales to be its popular teacher and
missionary. The houses of Carmel were like the holy house of
Nazareth to it; and the colleges of the Jesuits, its peaceful sojourns
in dark Egypt."
THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. VI.
12. If I were a person who had authority to write, it
would be a pleasure to me to be diffusive in speaking most
minutely of the graces which this glorious Saint has obtained
for me and for others. But that I may not go beyond the
commandment that is laid upon me, I must in many things
be more brief than I could wish, and more diffusive than is
necessary in others; for, in short, I am a person who, in all
that is good, has but little discretion. But I ask, for the love
of God, that he who does not believe me will make the trial
for himself, — when he will see by experience the great good
that results from commending oneself to this glorious pa
triarch, and being devout to him. Those who give them
selves to prayer should in a special manner have always a
devotion to S. Joseph ; for I know not how any man can think
of the Queen of the angels, during the time that she suffered
so much with the Infant Jesus, without giving thanks to S.
Joseph for the services he rendered them then. He who can
not find any one to teach him how to pray, let him take this
glorious Saint for his master, and he will not wander out
of the way.
13. May it please our Lord that I have not done amiss
in venturing to speak about S. Joseph ; for, though I publicly
profess my devotion to him, I have always failed in my service
to him and imitation of him. He was like himself when he
made me able to rise and walk, no longer a paralytic; and I,
too, am like myself when I make so bad a use of this grace.
14. Who could have said that I was so soon to fall, after
such great consolations from God — after His Majesty had
implanted virtues in me which of themselves made me serve
Him — after I had been, as it were, dead, and in such extreme
peril of eternal damnation — after He had raised me up, soul
and body, so that all who saw me marvelled to see me alive?
What can it mean, O my Lord? The life we live is so full
of danger! While I am writing this, — and it seems to me,
too, by Thy grace and mercy, — I may say with S. Paul, though
not so truly as he did: "It is not I who live now; but Thou,
my Creator, livest in me."1 For some years past — so it seems
to me — Thou hast held me by the hand; and I see in myself
desires and resolutions — in some measure tested by experience
in many ways during that time — never to do any thing, how-
1 Galat ii. 20.
CH. VII. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 33
ever slight it may be, contrary to Thy will, though I must
have frequently offended Thy Divine Majesty without being-
aware of it; and I also think that nothing can be proposed
to me that I should not with great resolution undertake for
Thy love. In some things, Thou hast Thyself helped me to
succeed therein. I love neither the world nor the things of
the world ; nor do I believe that any thing that does not come
from Thee can give me pleasure; every thing else seems to
me a heavy cross.
15. Still, I may easily deceive myself, and it may be that
( am not what I say I am ; but Thou knowest, O my Lord,
that, to the best of my knowledge, I lie not. I am afraid, and
with good reason, lest Thou shouldst abandon me ; for I know
now how far my strength and little virtue can reach, if Thou
be not ever at hand to supply them, and to help me never to
forsake Thee. May His Majesty grant that I be not forsaken
of Thee even now, when I am thinking all this of myself !
16. I know not how we can wish to live, seeing that
every thing is so uncertain. Once, O Lord, I thought it im
possible to forsake Thee so utterly ; and now that I have
forsaken Thee so often, I cannot help being afraid ; for when
Thou didst withdraw but a little from me, I fell down to
the ground at once. Blessed for ever be Thou ! Though I
have forsaken Thee, Thou hast not forsaken me so utterly
but that Thou hast come again and raised me up, giving me
Thy hand always. Very often, O Lord, I would not take
it : very often I would not listen when Thou wert calling
me again, as I am going to show.
CHAPTER VII.
LUKEWARMNESS THE LOSS .OF GRACE — INCONVENIENCE OF
LAXITY IN RELIGIOUS HOUSES.
1. So, then, going on from pastime to pastime, from
vanity to vanity, from one occasion of sin to another, I began
to expose myself exceedingly to the very greatest dangers :
my soul was so distracted by many vanities, that I was
ashamed to draw near unto God in an act of such special
34 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. VII.
friendship as that of prayer.1 As my sins multiplied, I began
to lose the pleasure and comfort I had in virtuous things:
and that loss contributed to the abandonment of prayer. I
see now most clearly, O my Lord, that this comfort departed
from me because I had departed from Thee.
2. It was the most fearful delusion into which Satan
could plunge me — to give up prayer under the pretence of
humility. I began to be afraid of giving myself to prayer,
because I saw myself so lost. I thought it would be better
for me, seeing that in my wickedness I was one of the most
wicked, to live like the multitude — to say the prayers which
I was bound to say, and that vocally ; not to practise mental
prayer nor commune with God so much ; for I deserved to
be with the devils, and was deceiving those who were about
me, because I made an outward show of goodness; and
therefore the community in which I dwelt is not to be
blamed ; for with my cunning I so managed matters, that
all had a good opinion of me ; and yet I did not seek this
deliberately by simulating devotion ; for in all that relates
to hypocrisy and ostentation — glory be to God ! — I do not
remember that I ever offended Him,2 so far as I know. The
very first movements herein gave me such pain, that the
devil would depart from me with loss, and the gain remained
with me; and thus, accordingly, he never tempted me much
in this way. Perhaps, however, if God had permitted Satan
to tempt me as sharply herein as he tempted me in other
things, I should have fallen also into this; but His Majesty
has preserved me until now. May He be blessed for ever
more ! It was rather a heavy affliction to me that I should
be thought so well of ; for I knew my own secret.
3. The reason why they thought I was not so wicked
was this : they saw that I, who was so young, and exposed
to so many occasions of sin, withdrew myself so often into
solitude for prayer, read much, spoke of God, that I liked
to have His image painted in many places, to have an oratory
of my own, and furnish it with objects of devotion, that I
spoke ill of no one, and other things of the same kind in
me which have the appearance of virtue. Yet all the while
—I was so vain — I knew how to procure respect for my-
1 See Way of Perfection, ch. xl.; but ch. xxv. of the former editions.
2 See Relation, i. § 18.
CH. VII. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 35
self by doing- those things which in the world are usually
regarded with respect.
4. In consequence of this, they gave me as much liberty
as they did to the oldest nuns, — and even more, — and had
great confidence in me ; for as to taking- any liberty for my
self, or doing any thing without leave, — such as conversing
through the door, or in secret, or by night, — I do not think
I could have brought myself to speak with any body in the
monastery in that way, and I never did it; for our Lord
held me back. It seemed to me — for I considered many things
carefully and of set purpose — that it would be a very evil
deed on my part, wicked as I was, to risk the credit of so
many nuns, who were all good,— as if every thing else I did
was well done! In truth, the evil I did was not the result
of deliberation, — as this would have been, if I had done it,
— although it was too much so.
5. Therefore, I think that it did me much harm to be
in a monastery not enclosed. The liberty which those who
were good might have with advantage— they not being
obliged to do more than they do, because they had not
bound themselves to enclosure — would certainly have led
me, who am wicked, straight to hell, if our Lord, by so
many remedies and means of His most singular mercy, had
not delivered me out of that . danger,— and it is, I believe,
the very greatest danger, — namely, a monastery of women
unenclosed, — yea, more, I think it is, for those who will be
wicked, a road to hell, rather than a help to their weakness.
This is not to be • understood of my monastery ; for there
are so many there who in the utmost sincerity, and in great
perfection, serve our Lord, so that His Majesty, according
to His goodness, cannot but be gracious unto them ; neither
is it one of those which are most open ; for all religious
observances are kept in it : and I am speaking only of others
which I have seen and known.
6. I am exceedingly sorry for these houses, because our
Lord must of necessity send His special inspirations not
merely once, but many times, if the nuns therein are to be
saved, — seeing that the honours and amusements of the
world are allowed among them, and the obligations of their
state are so ill-understood. God grant they may not count
that to be virtue which is sin, as I did so often! It is very
difficult to make people understand this ; it is necessary our
36 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. VII.
Lord Himself should take the matter seriously into liis own
hands.
7. If parents would take my advice, now that they are
at no pains to place their daughters where they may walk
in the way of salvation without incurring a greater risk than
they would do if they were left in the world, let them look
at least at that which concerns their good name. Let them
marry them to persons of a much lower degree, rather than
place them in monasteries of this kind, unless they he of
extremely good inclinations, — and God grant that these in
clinations may come to good! — or let them keep them at
home. If they will be wicked at home, their evil life can
be hidden only for a short time; but in monasteries it can
be hidden long, and, in the end, it is our Lord that discovers
it. They injure not only themselves, but all the nuns also.
And all the while the poor things are not in fault; for they
walk in the way that is shown them. Many of them are to
be pitied; for they wished to withdraw from the world, —
and, thinking to escape from the dangers of it, and that they
Avere going to serve our Lord, have found themselves in ten
worlds at once, without knowing what to do, or how to help
themselves. Youth and sensuality and the devil invite them
and incline them to follow certain ways which are of the
essence of worldliness. They .see these ways, so to speak,
considered as safe there.
8. Now, these seem to me to be in some degree like
those wretched heretics who will make themselves blind,
and who will consider that which they do to be good, and
so believe, but without really believing; for they have within
themselves something that tells them it is wrong.
9. Oh, what utter ruin ! utter ruin of religious persons
— I am not speaking now more of women than of men —
where the rules of the Order are not kept ; where the same
monastery offers two roads : one of virtue and observance,
the other of inobservance, and both equally frequented ! I
have spoken incorrectly : they are not equally frequented ;
for, on account of our sins, the way of the greatest imper
fection is the most frequented ; and because it is the broadest,
it is also the most in favour. The way of religious observance
is so little used, that the friar and the nun who would really
begin to follow their vocation thoroughly have reason to
fear the members of their communities more than all the
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 37
devils together. They must be more cautious, and dissemble
more, when they would speak of that friendship with God
which they desire to have, than when they would speak of
those friendships and affections which the devil arranges in
monasteries. I know not why \ve are astonished that the
Church is in so much trouble, when we see those, who ought
to be an example of every virtue to others, so disfigure the
work which the spirit of the Saints departed wrought in their
Orders. May it please His Divine Majesty to apply a remedy
to this, as He sees it to be needful ! Amen.
10. So, then, when I began to indulge in these conver
sations, I did not think, seeing they were customary, that
my soul must be injured and dissipated, as I afterwards
found it must be, by such conversations. I thought that, as
receiving visits was so common in many monasteries, no more
harm would befall me thereby than befell others, whom I
knew to be good. I did not observe that they were much
better than I was, and that an act which was perilous for me
was not so perilous for them ; and yet I have no doubt there
was some danger in it, were it nothing else but a waste of
time.
11. I was once with a person, — it was at the very
beginning of my acquaintance with her, — when our Lord was
pleased to show me that these friendships were not good for
me : to warn me, also, and in my blindness, which was so
great, to give me light. Christ stood before me, stern and
grave, giving me to understand what in my conduct was
offensive to Him. I saw Him with the eyes of the soul more
distinctly than I could have seen Him with the eyes of the
body. The vision made so deep an impression upon me,
that, though it is more than twenty-six years ago,1 I seem
to see Him present even now. I was greatly astonished
and disturbed, and I resolved not to see that person again.
12. It did me much harm that I did not then know it
was possible to see any thing otherwise than with the eyes
of the body ;2 so did Satan too, in that he helped me to think
so : he made me understand it to be impossible, and suggested
1 A. D. 1537, when the Saint was twenty-two years old (Bouix}.
This passage, therefore, must be one of the additions to the second
Life; for the first was written in 1562, twenty-five years only after the
vision.
2 See ch. xxvii. § 3.
38 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. VII.
that I had imagined the vision — that it might be Satan him
self — and other suppositions of that kind. For all this, the
impression remained with me that the vision was from God,
and not an imagination ; but, as it was not to my liking, I
forced myself to lie to myself; and as I did not dare to dis
cuss the matter with any one, and as great importunity was
used, I went back to my former conversation with the same
person, and with others also, at different times ; for I was
assured that there was no harm in seeing such a person, and
that I gained, instead of losing, reputation by doing so. I
spent many years in this pestilent amusement ; for it never
appeared to me, when I was engaged in it, to be so bad as
it really was, — though at times I saw clearly it was not
good. But no one caused me the same distraction which
that person did of whom I am speaking; and that was be
cause I had a great affection for her.
13. At another time, when I was with that person, we
saw, both of us, and others who were present also saw, some
thing like a great toad crawling towards us, more rapidly
than such a creature is in the habit of crawling. I cannot
understand how a reptile of that kind could, in the middle
of the day, have come forth from that place; it never had
done so before ;x but the impression it made on me was such,
that I think it must have had a meaning; neither have I ever
forgotten it. Oh, the greatness of God! with what care and
tenderness didst Thou warn me in every way ! and how little
I profited by those warnings !
14. There was in that house a nun, who was related to
me, now grown old, a great servant of God, and a strict
observer of the rule. She too warned me from time to time;
but I not only did not listen to her, but was even offended,
thinking she was scandalised without cause. I have men
tioned this in order that my wickedness and the great good
ness of God might be understood, and to show how much I de
served hell for ingratitude so great, and, moreover, if it should
be our Lord's will and pleasure that any nun at any time should
read this, that she might take warning by me. I beseech
them all, for the love of our Lord, to flee from such recreations
as these.
1 In the parlour of the monastery of the Incarnation, Avila, a
painting of this is preserved to this day (De la Fuente).
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 39
15. May His Majesty grant I may undeceive some one
of the many I led astray when I told them there was no harm
in these things, and assured them there was no such great
danger therein. I did so because I was blind myself; for
I would not deliberately lead them astray. By the bad
example I set before them, — I spoke of this before,1 — I was
the occasion of much evil, not thinking I was doing so much
harm.
16. In those early days, when I was ill, and before I
knew how to be of use to myself, I had a very strong desire
to further the progress of others :2 a most common tempta
tion of beginners. With me, however, it had good results.
Loving my father so much, I longed to see him in the posses
sion of that good which I seemed to derive myself from
prayer. I thought that in this life there could not be a greater
good than prayer; and so, by roundabout ways, as well as
I could, I contrived to make him enter upon it; I gave him
books for that end. As he was so good, — I said so before,3
— this exercise took such a hold upon him, that in five or
six years, I think it was, he made so great a progress that
I used to praise our Lord for it. It was a very great con
solation to me. He had most grievous trials of diverse kinds ;
and he bore them all with the greatest resignation. He
came often to see me ; for it was a comfort to him to speak
of the things of God.
17. And now that I had become so dissipated, and had
ceased to pray, and yet saw that he still thought I was what
I used to be, I could not endure it, and so undeceived him.
I had been a year and more without praying, thinking it an
act of greater humility to abstain. This— I shall speak of
it again4 — was the greatest temptation I ever had, because
it very nearly wrought my utter ruin ;5 for, when I used to
pray, if I offended God one day, on the following days I
would recollect myself, and withdraw farther from the occa
sions of sin.
18. When that blessed man, having that good opinion
of me, came to visit me, it pained me to see him so deceived
as to think that I used to pray to God as before. So I told
him that I did not pray; but I did not tell him why. I put
1 Ch. vi. §4. 2 See Inner Fortress, v. Hi. § 1. 8 Ch. i. § 1.
4 Ch. xix. §§ 9, 17. 8 See § 2, above.
40 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. VII.
my infirmities forward as an excuse; for though I had
recovered from that which was so troublesome, I have alwa}^s
been weak, even very much so; and though my infirmities
are somewhat less troublesome now than they were, they
still afflict me in many ways : specially, I have been suffer
ing for twenty years from sickness every morning,1 so that
I could not take any food till past midday, and even occa
sionally not till later; and now, since my Communions have
become more frequent, it is at night, before I lie down to
rest, that the sickness occurs, and with greater pain ; for I
have to bring it on with a feather, or other means. If I do
not bring it on, I suffer more ; and thus I am never, I believe,
free from great pain, which is sometimes very acute,
especially about the heart; though the fainting-fits are now
but of rare occurrence. I am also, these eight years past,
free from the paralysis, and from other infirmities of fever,
which I had so often. These afflictions I now regard so lightly,
that I am even glad of them, believing that our Lord in
some degree takes His pleasure in them.
19. My father believed me when I gave him that for
a reason, as he never told a lie himself; neither should I
have done so, considering the relation we were in. I told
him, in order to be the more easily believed, that it was
much for me to be able to attend in choir, though I saw
clearly that this was no excuse whatever; neither, however,
was it a sufficient reason for giving up a practice which does
not require, of necessity, bodily strength, but only love and
a habit thereof ; yet our Lord always furnishes an opportunity
for it, if we but seek it. I say always; for though there
may be times, as in illness, and from other causes, when
we cannot be much alone, yet it never can be but there must
be opportunities when our strength is sufficient for the pur
pose ; and in sickness itself, and amidst other hindrances,
true prayer consists, when the soul loves, in offering up its
burden, and in thinking of Him for whom it suffers, and
in the resignation of the will, and in a thousand ways which
then present themselves. It is under the:e circumstances
that love exerts itself; for it is not necessarily prayer when
we are alone ; and neither is it not prayer when we are not.
20. With a little care, we may find great blessings on
1 See ch. xi. § 26; Inner Fortress, vi. i. § 8.
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 41
those occasions when our Lord, by means of afflictions,
deprives us of time for prayer; and so I found it when I had
a good conscience. But my father, having that opinion of
me which he had, and because of the love he bore me, believed
all I told him; moreover, he was sorry for me; and as he
had now risen to great heights of prayer himself, he never
remained with me long; for when he had seen me, he went
his way, saying that he was wasting his time. As I was
wasting it in other vanities, I cared little about this.
21. My father w^as not the only person whom I pre
vailed upon to practice prayer, though I was walking in
vanity myself. When I saw persons fond of reciting their
prayers, I showed them how to make a meditation, and
helped them and gave them books; for from the time I
began myself to pray, as I said before,1 I always had a desire
that others should serve God. I thought now that I did not
myself serve our Lord according to the light I had, that the
knowledge His Majesty had given me ought not to be lost, and
that others should serve Him for me.2 I say this in order to
explain the great blindness I was in: going to ruin myself,
and labouring to save others.
22. At this time, that illness befell my father of which
he died;3 it lasted some days. I went to nurse him, being
more sick in spirit than he was in body, owing to my many
vanities, — though not, so far as I know, to the extent of
being in mortal sin, — through the whole of that wretched
time of which I am speaking; for, if I knew myself to be in
mortal sin, I would not have continued in it on any account.
I suffered much myself during his illness. I believe I rendered
him some service in return for what he had suffered in mine.
Though I was very ill, I did violence to myself; and though
in losing him I was to lose all the comfort and good of my
life, — he was all this to me, — I was so courageous, that I
never betrayed my sorrows, concealing them till he was dead,
as if I felt none at all. It seemed as if my very soul were
wrenched when I saw him at the point of death — my love
for him wras so deep.
23. It was a matter for which we ought to praise our
Lord — the death that he died, and the desire he had to die;
1 § 16. * See Inner Fortress, v. iii. § 1.
8 In 1541, when the Saint was twenty-five years of age (Boiti.r}.
THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [cil. VII.
so also was the advice he gave us after the last anointing,
how he charged us to recommend him to God, and to prav
for mercy for him, how he bade us serve God always, and
consider how all things come to an end. He told us with
tears how sorry he was that he had not served Him himself;
for he wished he was a friar — I mean, that he had been one
in the strictest Order that is. I have a most assured con
viction that our Lord, some fifteen days before, had revealed
to him he was not to live; for up to that time, though very
ill, he did not think so; but now, though he was somewhat
better, and the physicians said so, he gave no heed to them,
but employed himself in the ordering of his soul.
24. His chief suffering consisted in a most acute pain
of the shoulders, which never left him: it was so sharp at
times, that it put him into great torture. I said to him, that
as he had so great a devotion to our Lord carrying His cross
on His shoulders, he should now think that His Majesty
wished him to feel somewhat of that pain which He then
suffered Himself. This so comforted him, that I do not
think I heard him complain afterwards.
25. He remained three days without consciousness ; but
on the day he died, our Lord restored him so completely,
that we were astonished : he preserved his understanding to
the last; for in the middle of the creed, which he repeated
himself, he died. He lay there like an angel, — such he seemed
to me, if I may say so, both in soul and disposition : he was
very good.
26. I know not why I have said this, unless it be for
the purpose of showing how much the more I am to be
blamed for my wickedness; for after seeing such a death,
and knowing what his life had been, I, in order to be in any
wise like unto such a father, ought to have grown better.
His confessor, a most learned Dominican,1 used to say that
he had no doubt he went straight to heaven.2 He had heard
his confession for some years, and spoke with praise of the
purity of his conscience.
27. This Dominican father, who was a very good man,
fearing God, did me a very great service ; for I confessed to
him. He took upon himself the task of helping my soul in
1 F. Vicente Barren (Rcforma, lib. i. ch. xv.).
2 See ch. xxx via. § 1.
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 43
earnest, and of making me see the perilous state I was in.1
He sent me to Communion once a fortnight,2 and I, by de
grees beginning to speak to him, told him about my prayer.
He charged me never to omit it: that, anyhow, it could not
do me any thing but good. I began to return to it,— though
I did not cut off the occasions of sin, — and never afterwards
gave it up. My life became most wretched, because I learned
in prayer more and more of my faults. On one side, God
was calling me; on the other, I was following the world.
All the things of God gave me great pleasure; and I was a
prisoner to the things of the world. It seemed as if I wished
to reconcile two contradictions, so much at variance one with
another as are the life of the spirit and the joys and pleasures
and amusements of sense.3
28. I suffered much in prayer; for the spirit was slave,
and not master; and so I was not able to shut myself up
within myself— that was my whole method of prayer— with
out shutting up with me a thousand vanities at the same
time. I spent many years in this way; and I am no\v aston
ished that any one could have borne it without abandoning
either the one or the other. I know well that it was not in
my power then to give up prayer, because He held me in
His hand who sought me that He might show me greater
mercies.
29. O my God! if I might, I would speak of the occa
sions from which God delivered me, and how I threw my
self into them again ; and of the risks I ran of losing utterly
my good name, from which He delivered me. I did things
to show what I was; and our Lord hid the evil, and revealed
some little virtue — if so be I had any — and made it great in
the eyes of all, so that they always held me in much honour.
For although my follies came occasionally into light, people
would not believe it when they saw other things, which
they thought good. The reason is, that He who knoweth
all things saw it was necessary it should be so, in order that
I might have some credit given me by those to whom in
1 See ch. xix. § 20.
The Spanish editor calls attention to this as a proof of great
laxity in those days — that a nun like S. Teresa should be urged to com
municate as often as once in a fortnight.
3 Sec ch. xiii. § 7, 8.
44 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [ciT. VII.
after years I was to speak of His service. His supreme mu
nificence regarded not my great sins, but rather the desires
I frequently had to please Him, and the pain I felt because I
had not the strength to bring those desires to good effect.
30. . O Lord of my soul ! how shall I be able to magnify
the graces which Thou, in those years, didst bestow upon
me? Oh, how, at the very time that I offended Thee most,
Thou didst prepare me in a moment, by a most profound
compunction, to taste of the sweetness of Thy consolations
and mercies! In truth, O my King, Thou didst administer
to me the most delicate and painful chastisement it was possi
ble for me to bear; for Thou knewest well what would have
given me the most pain. Thou didst chastise my sins with
great consolations. I do not believe I am saying foolish
things, though it may well be that I am beside myself when
ever I call to mind my ingratitude and my wickedness.
31. It was more painful for me, in the state I was in,
to receive graces, when I had fallen into grievous faults, than
it would have been to receive chastisement ; for one of those
faults, I am sure, used to bring me low, shame and distress
me, more than many diseases, together with many heavy
trials, could have done. For, as to the latter, I saw that I
deserved them; and it seemed to me that by them I was
making some reparation for my sins, though it was but
slight, — for my sins are so many. But when I see myself
receive graces anew, after being so ungrateful for those
already received, that is to me — and, I believe, to all who
have any knowledge or love of God — a fearful kind of tor
ment. We may see how true this is by considering what a
virtuous mind must be. Hence my tears and vexation when
I reflected on what I felt, seeing myself in a condition to
fall at every moment, though my resolutions and desires then
—I am speaking of that time — were strong.
32. It is a great evil for a soul to be alone in the midst
of such great dangers ; it seems to me that if I had had any
one with whom I could have spoken of all this, it might have
helped me not to fall. I might, at least, have been ashamed
before him — and yet I was not ashamed before God.
33. For this reason, I would advise those who give them
selves to prayer, particularly at first, to form friendships, and
converse familiarly, with others who are doing the same
thing. It is a matter of the last importance, even if it lead
WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 45
only to helping one another by prayer : how much more, see
ing that it has led to much greater gain ! Now, if in their
intercourse one with another, and in the indulgence of human
affections even not of the best kind, men seek friends with
whom they may refresh themselves, and for the purpose of
having greater satisfaction in speaking of their empty joys,
I know no reason why it should not be lawful for him who
is beginning to love and serve God in earnest to confide to
another his joys and sorrows; for they who are given to
prayer are thoroughly accustomed to both.
34. For if that friendship with God which he desires
be real, let him not be afraid of vain-glory; and if the first
movements thereof assail him, he will escape from it with
merit; and I believe that he who will discuss the matter with
this intention will profit both himself and those who hear
him, and thus will derive more light for his own understand
ing, as well as for the instruction of his friends. He who
in discussing his method of prayer falls into vain-glory will
do so also when he hears Mass devoutly, if he is seen of men,
and in doing other good works, which must be done under
pain of being no Christian ; and yet these things must not
be omitted through fear of vain-glory.
35. Moreover, it is a most important matter for those
souls who are not strong in virtue ; for they have so many
people, enemies as well as friends, to urge them the wrong
way, that I do not see how this point is capable of exaggera
tion. It seems to me that Satan has employed this artifice,
— and it is of the greatest service to him, — namely, that men
who really wish to love and please God should hide the fact,
while others, at his suggestion, make open show of their
malicious dispositions; and this is so common, that it seems
a matter of boasting now, and the offences committed against
God are thus published abroad.
36. I do not know whether the things I am saying are
foolish or not. If they be so, your reverence \vill strike them
out. I entreat you to help my simplicity by adding a good
deal to this, because the things that relate to the service of
God are so feebly managed, that it is necessary for those
who would serve Him to join shoulder to shoulder, if they
are to advance at all ; for it is considered safe to live amidst
the vanities and pleasures of the world, and few there be
who regard them with unfavourable eyes. Hut if any one
46 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. VIII.
begins to give himself up to the service of God, there are so
many to find fault with him, that it becomes necessary for
him to seek companions, in order that he may find protec
tion among them till he grows strong enough not to feel
what he may be made to suiter. If he does not, he will find
himself in great straits.
37. This, I believe, must have been the reason why
some of the Saints withdrew into the desert. And it is a
kind of humility in man not to trust to himself, but to believe
that God will help him in his relations with those with whom
he converses ; and charity grows by being diffused ; and there
are a thousand blessings herein which I would not dare to
speak of, if I had not known by experience the great impor
tance of it. It is very true that I am the most wicked and
the basest of all who are born of women; but I believe that
lie who, humbling himself, though strong, yet trusteth not
in himself, and believeth another who in this matter has had
experience, will lose nothing. Of myself I may say that, if
our Lord had not revealed to me this truth, and given me
the opportunity of speaking very frequently to persons given
to prayer, I should have gone on falling and rising till I
tumbled into hell. I had many friends to help me to fall;
but as to rising again, I was so much left to myself, that I
wonder now I was not always on the ground. I praise God
for His mercy ; for it was He only who stretched out His
hand to me. May He be blessed for ever! Amen.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SAINT CEASES NOT TO PRAY PRAYER THE WAY TO RE
COVER WHAT IS LOST ALL EXHORTED TO PRAY THE GREAT
ADVANTAGE OF PRAYER, EVEN TO THOSE WHO MAY HAVE
CEASED FROM IT.
1. IT is not without reason that I have dwelt so long on
this portion of my life. I see clearly that it will give no one
pleasure to see any thing so base ; and certainly I wish those
who may read this to have me in abhorrence, as a soul so
obstinate and so ungrateful to Him who did so much for me.
I could wish, too, I had permission to say how often at this
time I failed in my duty to God because I was not leaning
AVILA— ST. TERESA'S CHILDHOOD.
Hye Hoys, del.
1. Church of Saint Juan. 2. Font used at the baptism of Saint Teresa.
3. Mural painting and inscription describing- this ceremony. 4. Houses of the mar
quises of Almaza, of the counts of Superunda, and of the counts of Onate; Plazuela
de los Cepedas. 5. Entrance to a house near the Gate Saint Vincent with the
armorial bearings upon its facade, of the family of del Aguila, related to Saint
Teresa. 6. Patio or interior court of this house. 7. Ruins of the monument of
"The Four Columns." 8. Part of the garden of her father's house, now annexed
to the monastery of Discalced Carmelites. 9. Church Mosen Rubi de Bracamonte.
III.
Bru^ee, P. Raoux, Sc
10. Tombstone of Juan de Ovalle y Godinez; of Juana de Ahumada, his wife, sister
of Saint Teresa, and of their son Gonsalo, in the church of the Carmelites at Alba.
11. Sepulchral stone of lago Misia y Cepeda, relative of Saint Teresa, in the church
of the Discalced Carmelites at Avila. 12. Arms of Leo X., Pope at the time of the
Saint's birth. 13. Arms of Juana, Queen of Spain, the last sovereign of the Spanish
dynasty. 14. Arms of Blasco Nunez Vela, relative of Saint Teresa. 15. Arms of
the del Aguila family. (See Appendix, note 3.)
CH. VIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 47
on the strong pillar of prayer. I passed nearly twenty years
on this stormy sea, falling and rising, but rising to no good
purpose, seeing that I went and fell again. My life was one
of perfection ; but it was so mean, that I scarcely made any
account whatever of venial sins; and though of mortal sins
I was afraid, I was not so afraid of them as I ought to have
been, because I did not avoid the perilous occasions of them.
I may say that it was the most painful life that can be imag
ined, because I had no sweetness in God, and no pleasure in
the world.
2. When I was in the midst of the pleasures of the world,
the remembrance of what I owed to God made me sad; and
when I was praying to God, my worldly affections disturbed
me. This is so painful a struggle, that I know not how I could
have borne it for a month, let alone for so many years.
Nevertheless, I can trace distinctly the great mercy of our
Lord to me, while thus immersed in the world, in that I had
still the courage to pray. I say courage, because I know of
nothing in the whole world which requires greater courage
than plotting treason against the King, knowing that He
knows it, and yet never withdrawing from His presence ; for,
granting that we are always in the presence of God, yet it
seems to me that those who pray are in His presence in a very
different sense : for they, as it were, see that lie is looking
upon them ; while others may be for days together without
even once recollecting that God sees them.
3. It is true, indeed, that during these years there were
many months, and, I believe, occasionally a whole year, in
which I so kept guard over myself that I did not offend our
Lord, gave myself much to prayer, and took some pains, and
that successfully, not to offend Him. I speak of this now,
because all I am saying is strictly true ; but I remember very
little of those good days, and so they must have been few ;
while my evil days were many. Still, the days that passed over
without my spending a great part of them in prayer were
few, unless I was very ill, or very much occupied.
4. When I was ill, I was well with God. I contrived
that those about me should be so too, and I made supplica
tions to our Lord for this grace, and spoke frequently of
Him. Thus, with the exception of that year of which I have
been speaking, during eight-and-twenty years of prayer I
spent more than eighteen in that strife and contention which
48 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. VIII.
arose out of my attempts to reconcile God and the world.
As to the other years, of which I have now to speak, in
them the grounds of the warfare, though it was not slight,
were changed ; but inasmuch as I was — at least, I think so
— serving God, and aware of the vanity of the world, all has
been pleasant, as I shall show hereafter.1
5. The reason, then, of my telling this at so great a
length is that, as I have just said,2 the mercy of God and
my ingratitude, on the one hand, may become known ; and,
on the other, that men may understand how great is the good
which God works in a soul when He gives it a disposition
to pray in earnest, though it may not be so well prepared
as it ought to be. If that soul perseveres in spite of sins,
temptations, and relapses, brought about in a thousand ways
by Satan, our Lord will bring it at last — I am certain of
it — to the harbour of salvation, as He has brought me my
self; for so it seems to me now. May His Majesty grant
I may never go back and be lost ! He who gives himself to
prayer is in possession of a great blessing, of which many
saintly and good men have written, — I am speaking of mental
prayer, — glory be to God for it; and, if they had not done so,
I am not proud enough, though I have but little humility, to
presume to discuss it.
6. I may speak of that which I know by experience ;
and so I say, let him never cease from prayer who has once
begun it, be his life ever so wicked ; for prayer is the way
to amend it, and without prayer such amendment will be
much more difficult. Let him not be tempted by Satan, as
I was, to give it up, on the pretence of humility;3 let him
rather believe that His words are true who says that, if we
truly repent, and resolve never to offend Him, He will take
us into His favour again,4 give us the graces He gave us
before, and occasionally even greater, if our repentance
deserve it. And as to him who has not begun to pray, I
implore him by the love of our Lord not to deprive himself
of so great a good.
7. Herein there is nothing to be afraid of, but every
thing to hope for. Granting that such a one does not ad
vance, nor make an effort to become perfect, so as to merit
1 Ch. ix. § 10. * § 1, above.
8 Ch. vii. § 17; ch. xix. § 9. 4 Ezech. xviii. 21.
CH. VIII. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 49
the joys and consolations which the perfect receive from
God, yet he will by little and little attain to a knowledge of
the road which leads to heaven. And if he perseveres, I
hope in the mercy of God for him, seeing that no one ever
took Him for his friend that was not amply rewarded; for
mental prayer is nothing else, in my opinion, but being on
terms of friendship with God, frequently conversing in
secret with Him who, we know, loves us. Now, true love
and lasting friendship require certain dispositions : those of
our Lord, we know, are absolutely perfect; ours, vicious,
sensual, and thankless; and you cannot, therefore, bring
yourselves to love Him as He loves you, because you have
not the disposition to do so; and if you do not love Him,
yet, seeing how much it concerns you to have His friend
ship, and how great is His love for you, rise above that pain
you feel at being much with Him who is so different from
you.
8. O infinite goodness of my God ! I seem to see Thee
and myself in this relation to one another. O Joy of the
angels ! when I consider it, I wish I could wholly die of love !
How true it is that Thou endurest those who will not endure
Thee ! Oh, how good a friend art Thou, O my Lord ! how
Thou comfortest and endurest, and also waitest for them to
make themselves like unto Thee, and yet, in the meanwhile,
art Thyself so patient of the state they are in ! Thou takest
into account the occasions during which they seek Thee,
and for a moment of penitence forgettest their offences
against Thyself.
9. I have seen this distinctly in my own case, and I
cannot tell why the whole world does not labour to draw
near to Thee in this particular friendship. The wicked, who
do not resemble Thee, ought to do so, in order that Thou
mayest make them good, and for that purpose should per
mit Thee to remain with them at least for two hours daily,
even though they may not remain with Thee but, as I used to
do, with a thousand distractions, and with worldly thoughts.
In return for this violence which they offer to themselves for
the purpose of remaining in a company so good as Thine, — for
at first they can do no more, and even afterwards at times, —
Thou, O Lord, defendest them against the assaults of evil
spirits, whose power Thou restrainest, and even lessenest
daily, giving to them the victory over these their enemies.
00 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. VIII.
So it is, O Life of all lives, Thou slayest none that put their
trust in Thee, and seek Thy friendship; yea, rather, Thou
sustainest their bodily life in greater vigour, and makest
their soul to live.
10. I do not understand what there can be to make
them afraid who are afraid to begin mental prayer, nor do
1 know what it is they dread. The devil does well to bring
this "fear upon us, that he may really hurt us ; if, by putting
me in fear, he can make me cease from thinking of my
offences against God, of the great debt I owe Him, of the
existence of heaven and hell, and of the great sorrows and
trials He underwent for me. That was all my prayer, and
had been, when I was in this dangerous state} and it was on
those subjects I dwelt whenever I could; and very often, for
some years, I was more occupied with the wish to see the end
of the time I had appointed for myself to spend in prayer and
in watching the hour-glass, than with other thoughts that
were good. If a sharp penance had been laid upon me, I
know of none that I would not very often have willingly under
taken, rather than prepare myself for prayer by self-recol
lection. And certainly the violence with which Satan assailed
me was so irresistible, or my evil habits were so strong,
that I did not betake myself to prayer; and the sadness I
felt on entering the oratory was so great, that it required
all the courage I had to force myself in. They say of me
that my courage is not slight, and it is known that God has
given me a courage beyond that of a woman ; but I have
made a bad use of it. In the end, our Lord came to my
help ; and then, when I had done this violence to myself, I
found greater peace and joy than I sometimes had when I
had a desire to pray.
11. If, then, our Lord bore so long with me, who was
so wicked, — and it is plain that it was by prayer all my evil
was corrected, — why should any one, how wicked soever
he may be, have any fear? Let him be ever so wicked, he
will not remain in his wickedness so many years as I did,
after receiving so many graces from our Lord. Is there any
one who can despair, when He bore so long with me, only
because I desired and contrived to find some place and some
opportunities for Him to be alone \vith me, — and that very
often against my will? for I did violence to myself, or rather
our Lord Himself did violence to me.
CH. VIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. ol
12. If then, to those who do not serve God, but rather
offend Him, prayer be all this, and so necessary, and if no
one can really find out any harm it can do him, and if the
omission of it be not a still greater harm, why then, should
they abstain from it who serve and desire to serve God?
Certainly I cannot comprehend it, unless it be that men have
a mind to go through the troubles of this life in greater
misery, and to shut the door in the face of God, so that He
shall give them no comfort in it. I am most truly sorry for
them, because they serve God at their own cost; for of those
who pray, God Himself defrays the charges, seeing that for
a little trouble He gives sweetness, in order that, by the
help it supplies, they may bear their trials.
13. But because I have much to say hereafter of this
sweetness, which our Lord gives to those who persevere in
prayer,1 I do not speak of it here ; only this will I say :
prayer is the door to those great graces which our Lord
bestowed upon me. If this door be shut, I do not see how
He can bestow them ; for even if He entered into a soul
to take His delight therein, and to make that soul also delight
in Him, there is no way by which He can do so ; for His
will is, that such a soul should be lonely and pure, with a
great desire to receive His graces. If we put many hin
drances in the way, and take no pains whatever to remove
them, how can He come to us, and how can we have any
desire that He should show us His great mercies?
14. I will speak now — for it is very important to under
stand it — of the assaults which Satan directs against a soul
for the purpose of taking it, and of the contrivances and
compassion wherewith our Lord labours to convert it to Him
self, in order that men may behold His mercy, and the great
good it was for me that I did not give up prayer and spiritual
reading, and that they may be on their guard against the
dangers against which I was not on my guard myself. And,
above all, I implore them for .the love of our Lord, and for
the great love with which He goeth about seeking our con
version to Himself, to beware of the occasions of sin; for
once placed therein, we have no ground to rest on, — so many
enemies then assail us, and our own weakness is such, that
we cannot defend ourselves.
1 See ch. x. § 2, and ch. xi. § 22.
52 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. Mil.
15. Oh, that 1 knew how to describe the captivity of
my soul in those days ! I understood perfectly that I was
in captivity, but I -could not understand the nature of it;
neither could I entirely believe that those things which
my confessors did not make so much of were so wrong as
I in my soul felt them to be. One of them — I had gone to
him with a scruple — told me that, even if I were raised to
high contemplation, those occasions and conversations were
not unfitting for me. This was towards the end, when, by
the grace of God, I was withdrawing more and more from
those great dangers, but not wholly from the occasions of
them.
16. When they saw my good desires, and how I occupied
myself in prayer, I seemed to them to have done much ; but
my soul knew that this was not doing what I was bound
to do for Him to whom I owed so much. I am sorry for
my poor soul even now, because of its great sufferings, and
the little help it had from any one except God, and for the
wide door that man opened for it, that it might go forth
to its pastimes and pleasures, when they said that these
things were lawful.
17. Then there was the torture of sermons, and that
not a slight one ; for I was very fond of them. If I heard
any one preach well and with unction, I felt, without my
seeking it, a particular affection for him, neither do I know
whence it came. Thus, no sermon ever seemed to me so
bad, but that I listened to it with pleasure ; though, according
to others who heard it, the preaching was not good. If it
was a good sermon, it was to me a most special refreshment.
To speak of God, or to hear Him spoken of, never wearied
me. • I am speaking of the time after I gave myself to prayer.
At one time I had great comfort in sermons, at another they
distressed me, because they made me feel that I was very
far from being what I ought to have been.
18. I used to pray to our Lord for help ; but, as it now
seems to me, I must have committed the fault of not putting
my wrhole trust in His Majesty, and of not thoroughly dis
trusting myself. I sought for help, took great pains ; but
it must be that I did not understand how all is of little profit
if we do not root out all confidence in ourselves, and place
it wholly in God. I wished to live, but I saw clearly that
I was not living, but rather wrestling with the shadow of
C'H. IX.
WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 53
death; there was no one to give me life, and I was not able
to take it. He who could have given it me had good reasons
for not coming to my aid, seeing that He had brought me
back to Himself so many times, and I as often had left Him.
CHAPTER IX.
THE MEANS WHEREBY OUR LORD QUICKENED HER SOUL, GAVE
HER LIGHT IN- HER DARKNESS, AND MADE HER STRONG IN
GOODNESS.
1. MY soul \vas now grown weary; and the miserable
habits it had contracted would not suffer it to rest, though
it was desirous of doing so. It came to pass one day, when I
\vent into the oratory, that I sa\v a picture which they had put
by there, and which had been procured for a certain feast
observed in the house. It 'was a representation of Christ
most grievously wounded ; and so devotional, that the very
sight of it, when I saw it, moved me, — so well did it show
forth that which He suffered for us. So keenly did I feel
the evil return I had made for those wounds, that I thought
my heart was breaking. I threw myself on the ground beside
it, my tears flowing plenteously, and implored Him to
strengthen me once for all, so that I might never offend
Him any more.
2. I had a very great devotion to the glorious Magdalene,
and very frequently used to think of her conversion—
especially when I went to Communion. As I knew for cer
tain that our Lord was then within me, I used to place my
self at His feet, thinking that my tears would not be despised.
I did not know what I was saying; only He did great things
for me, in that He was pleased I should shed those tears,
seeing that I so soon forgot that impression. I used to
recommend myself to that glorious Saint, that she might
obtain my pardon.
3. But this last time, before that picture of which I am
speaking, I seem to have made greater progress ; for I was
now very distrustful of myself, placing all my confidence
in God. It seems to me that I said to Him then that I would
not rise up till He granted my petition. I do certainly
54 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. IX.
believe that this was of great service to me, because I have
grown better even since.1
4. This was my method of prayer: as I could not make
reflections with my understanding, I contrived to picture
Christ as within me;2 and I used to find myself the better
for thinking of those mysteries of His life during which He
was most lonely. It seemed to me that the being alone and
afflicted, like a person in trouble, must needs permit me to
come near unto Him.
5. I did many simple things of this kind; and in partic
ular I used to find myself most at home in. the prayer in the
Garden, whither I went in His company. I thought of the
bloody sweat, and of the affliction Pie endured there ; I wished,
if it had been possible, to wipe away that painful sweat from
His face ; but I remember that I never dared to form such a
resolution, — my sins stood before me so grievously. I used
to remain with Him there as long as my thoughts allowed
me, and I had many thoughts to torment me. For many
years, nearly every night before I fell asleep, when I recom
mended myself to God, that I might sleep in peace, I used
always to think a little of this mystery of the prayer in the
Garden — yea, even before I was a nun, because I had been
told that many indulgences were to be gained thereby. For
my part, I believe that my soul gained very much in this
way, because I began to practise prayer without knowing
what it was ; and now that it had become my constant habit,
I was saved from omitting it, as I was from omitting to bless
myself with the sign of the cross before I slept.
6. And now to go back to what I was saying of the
torture which my thoughts inflicted upon me. This method
of praying, in which the understanding makes no reflections,
hath this property: the soul must gain much, or lose. I
mean, that those who advance without meditation make great
progress, because it is done by love. But to attain to this
involves great labour, except to those persons whom it is
our Lord's good pleasure to lead quickly to the prayer of
quiet. I know of some. For those who walk in this way,
a book is profitable, that by the help thereof they may the
more quickly recollect themselves. It was a help to me
1 In the year 1555 (Boui.r). 2 See cli. iv. § 11: ch. x. § 1.
CH. IX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 55
also to look on fields, water, and flowers.1 In them I saw
traces of the Creator — I mean, that the sight of these things
\vas as a book unto me ; it roused me, made me recollected,
and reminded me of my ingratitude and of my sins. My
understanding was so dull, that I could never represent in
the imagination either heavenly or high things in any form
whatever until our Lord placed them before me in another
way.2
7. I was so little able to put things before me by the
help of my understanding, that, unless I saw a thing with
my eyes, my imagination was of no use whatever. I could
not do as others do, who can put matters before themselves
so as to become thereby recollected. I was able to think
of Christ only as man. But so it was ; and I never could
form any image of Him to myself, though I read much of
His beauty, and looked at pictures of Him. I was like one
who is blind, or in the dark, who, though speaking to a
person present, and feeling his presence, because he knows
for certain that he is present, — I mean, that he understands
him to be present, and believes it, — yet does not see him.
It was thus with me when I used to think of our Lord. This
is why I was so fond of images. Wretched are they who,
through their own fault, have lost this blessing; it is clear
enough that they do not love our Lord — for if they loved
Him, they would rejoice at the sight of His picture, just
as men find pleasure when they see the portrait of one they
love.
8. At this time, the Confessions of S. Augustine were
given me. Our Lord seems to have so ordained it, for I
did not seek them myself, neither had I ever seen them before.
I have a very great devotion to S. Augustine, because the
monastery in which I lived when I was yet in the world was
of his Order;3 and also because he had been a sinner — for
I used to find great comfort in those Saints whom, after
they had sinned, our Lord converted to Himself. I thought
they would help me, and that, as our Lord had forgiven
them, so also He would forgive me. One thing, however,
there was that troubled me— I have spoken of it before4—
our Lord had called them but once, and they never relapsed ;
1 See Relation, i. § 12. 2 See ch. iv. § 11.
3 Ch. ii. § 8. 4 In the Prologue.
56 • THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. IX.
while my relapses were now so many. This it was that vexed
me. But calling to mind the love that He bore me, I took
courage again. Of His mercy I never doubted once, but I
did very often of myself.
9. O my God, I am amazed at the hardness of my heart
amidst so many succours from Thee. I am filled with dread
when I see how little I could do with myself, and how I
was clogged, so that I could not resolve to give myself entirely
to God. When I began to read the Confessions, I thought
I saw myself there described, and began to recommend my
self greatly to this glorious Saint. When I came to his con
version, and read how he heard that voice in the garden,
it seemed to me nothing less than that our Lord had uttered
it for me: I felt so in my heart. I remained for some time
lost in tears, in great inward affliction and distress. O my
God, what a soul has to suffer because it has lost the liberty
it had of being mistress over itself! and what torments it
has to endure ! I wonder now how I could live in torments
so great: God be praised who gave me life, so that I might
escape from so fatal a death ! I believe that my soul obtained
great strength from His Divine Majesty, and that He must
have heard my cry, and had compassion upon so many tears.
10. A desire to spend more time with Him began to
grow within me, and also to withdraw from the occasions
of sin: for as soon as I had done so, I turned lovingly to
His Majesty at once. I understood clearly, as I thought,
that I loved Him; but I did not understand, as I ought to
have understood it, wherein the true love of God consists.
I do not think I had yet perfectly disposed myself to seek
His service when His Majesty turned towards me with His
consolations. What others strive after with great labour,
our Lord seems to have looked out for a way to make me
willing to accept — that is, in these later years to give me
joy and comfort. But as for asking our Lord to give me
either these things or sweetness in devotion, I never dared
to do it; the only thing I prayed Him to give me was the
grace never to offend Him, together with the forgiveness of
my great sins. When I saw that my sins were so great, I
never ventured deliberately to ask either for consolation or
for sweetness. He had compassion enough upon me, I think,
— and, in truth, He dealt with me according to His great
mercy, — when He allowed me to stand before Him, and when
CH. X.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 57
He drew me into His presence ; for I saw that, if He had not
drawn me, I should not have come at all.
11. Once only in my life do I remember asking for con
solation, being at the time in great aridities. When I con
sidered what I had done, I was so confounded, that the very
distress I suffered from seeing how little humility I had,
brought me that which I had been so bold as to ask for.
I knew well that it was lawful to pray for it ; but it seemed
to me that it is lawful only for those who are in good dis
positions, who have sought with all their might to attain
to true devotion — that is, not to offend God, and to be dis
posed and resolved for all goodness. I looked upon those
tears of mine as womanish and weak, seeing that I did not
obtain my desires by them ; nevertheless, I believe that they
did me some service ; for, specially after those two occasions
of great compunction and sorrow of heart,1 accompanied by
tears, of which I am speaking, I began in an especial wray
to give myself more to prayer, and to occupy myself less
with those things which did me harm — though I did not
give them up altogether. But God Himself, as I have just
said, came to my aid, and helped me to turn away from them.
As His Majesty was only waiting for some preparation on
my part, the spiritual graces grew in me as I shall now
explain. It is not the custom of our Lord to give these graces
to any but to those who keep their consciences in greater
pureness.2
CHAPTER X.
THE GRACES SHE RECEIVED IN PRAYER WHAT WE CAN DO
OURSELVES THE GREAT IMPORTANCE OF UNDERSTANDING
WHAT OUR LORD IS DOING FOR US SHE DESIRES HER
CONFESSORS TO KEEP HER WRITING SECRET, BECAUSE OF
THE SPECIAL GRACES OF OUR LORD TO HER, WHICH THEY5
HAD COMMANDED HER TO DESCRIBE.
1. I USED to have at times, as I have said,3 — though it
used to pass quickly away, — certain commencements of that
1 § 1. 2 Ch. iv. § 10.
8 The Saint interrupts her history here to enter on the difficult
questions of mystical theology, and resumes it in ch. xxiii.
58 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. X.
which I am going now to describe. When I formed those
pictures within myself of throwing myself at the feet of
Christ, as I said before,1 and sometimes even when I was
reading, a feeling of the presence of God would come over
me unexpectedly, so that I could in no wise doubt either
that He was within me, or that I was wholly absorbed in
Him. It was not by way of vision ; I believe it was what
is called mystical theology. The soul is suspended in such
a way that it seems to be utterly beside itself. The will loves ;
the memory, so it seems to me, is as it were lost ; and the
understanding, so I think, makes no reflections — yet is not
lost: as I have just said, it is not at work, but it stands as
if amazed at the greatness of the things it understands ; for
God wills it to understand that it understands nothing what
ever of that which His Majesty places before it.
2. Before this, I had a certain tenderness of soul which
was very abiding, partially attainable, I believe, in some
measure, by our own efforts : a consolation which is not
wholly in the senses, nor yet altogether in the spirit, but
is all of it the gift of God. However, I think we can con
tribute much towards the attaining of it by considering our
vileness and our ingratitude towards God — the great things
He has done for us — His Passion, with its grievous pains
— and His life, so full of sorrows ; also, by rejoicing in the
contemplation of His works, of His greatness, and the love
that He bears us. Many other considerations there are which
he who really desires to make progress will often stumble
on, though he may not be very much on the watch for them.
If writh this there be a little love, the soul is comforted, the
heart is softened, and tears flow. Sometimes it seems that
we do violence to ourselves and weep ; at other times, our
Lord seems to do so, so that we have no power to resist
Him. His Majesty seems to reward this slight carefulness
of ours with so grand a gift as is this consolation which He
ministers to the soul of seeing itself weeping for so great a
Lord. I am not surprised; for the soul has reason enough,
and more than enough, for its joy. Here it comforts itself
—here it rejoices.
3. The comparison which now presents itself seems to
me to be good. These joys in prayer are like what those
1 Cb. ix. § 4.
CH. X.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 59
of heaven must be. As the vision of the Saints, which is
measured by their merits there, reaches no further than our
Lord wills, and as the blessed see how little merit they had,
every one of them is satisfied with the place assigned him :
there being the very greatest difference between one joy
and another in heaven, and much greater than between one
spiritual joy and another on earth — which is, however, very
great. And in truth, in the beginning, a soul in whom God
works this grace thinks that now it has scarcely any thing-
more to desire, and counts itself abundantly rewarded for
all the service it has rendered Him. And there is reason
for this; for one of those tears — which, as I have just said,
are almost in our own power, though without God nothing
can be done — cannot, in my opinion, be purchased with all
the labours of the world, because of the great gain it brings
us. And what .greater gain can we have than some testi
mony of our having pleased God? Let him, then, who shall
have attained to this, give praise unto God — acknowledge him
self to be one of His greatest debtors; because it seems to
be His will to take him into His house, having chosen him
for His kingdom, if he does not turn back.
4. Let him not regard certain kinds of humility which
exist, and of which I mean to speak.1 Some think it humility
not to believe that God is bestowing His gifts upon them.
Let us clearly understand this, and that it is perfectly clear
God bestows His gifts without any merit whatever on our
part; and let us be grateful to His Majesty for them; for
if we do not recognise the gifts received at His hands, we
shall never be moved to love Him. It is a most certain
truth, that the richer we see ourselves to be, confessing at
the same time our poverty, the greater will be our progress,
and the more real our humility.
5. An opposite course tends to take away all courage ;
for we shall think ourselves incapable of great blessings, if
we begin to frighten ourselves with the dread of vain-glory
when our Lord begins to show His mercy upon us.2 Let
us believe that He who gives these gifts will also, when
the devil begins to tempt us herein, give us the grace to
detect him, and the strength to resist him, — that is, He will
do so if we walk in simplicity before God, aiming at pleas-
1 Ch. xxx. § 10. 2 See ch. xiii. § 5.
60 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [dl. X.
ing Him only, and not men. It is a most evident truth,
that our love for a person is greater, the more distinctly we
remember the good he has done us.
6. If, then, it is lawful, and so meritorious, always to
remember that we have our being from God, that He has
created us out of nothing, that He preserves us, and also
to remember all the benefits of His death and Passion, which
He suffered long before 1 le made us for every one of us now
alive,— why should it not be lawful for me to discern, con
fess, and consider often that I was once accustomed to speak
uf vanities, and that now our Lord has given me the grace
to speak only of Himself?
7. Here, then, is a precious pearl, which, when we re
member that it is given us, and that we have it in possession,
powerfully invites us to love. All this is the fruit, of prayer
founded on humility. What, then, will it be when we shall
find ourselves in possession of other pearls of greater price,
such as contempt of the world and of self, which some serv
ants of God have already received? It is clear that such
souls must consider themselves greater debtors — under greater
obligations to serve Him: we must acknowledge' that we
have nothing of ourselves, and confess the munificence of
our Lord, who, on a soul so wretched and poor, and so
utterly undeserving, as mine is, — for whom the first of these
pearls was enough, and more than enough, — would bestow
greater riches than I could desire.
8. We must renew our strength to serve Him, and strive
not to be ungrateful, because it is on this condition that our
Lord dispenses His treasures ; for if we do not make a good
use of them, and of the high estate to which He raises us,
He will return and take them from us, and we shall be poorer
than ever. His Majesty will give the pearls to him who shall
bring them forth and employ them usefully for himself and
others. For how shall he be useful, and how shall he spend
liberally, who does not know that he is rich? It is not pos
sible, I think, our nature being what it is, that he can have
the courage necessary for great things who does not know
that God is on his side ; for so miserable are we, so inclined
to the things of this world, that he can hardly have any real
abhorrence of, with great detachment from, all earthly things
who does not see that he holds some pledges for those things
CH. X.j WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 61
that are above. It is by these gifts that our Lord gives us
that strength which we through our sins have lost.
9. A man will hardly wish to be held in contempt and
abhorrence, nor will he seek after the other great virtues
to which the perfect attain, if he has not some pledges of
the love which God bears him, together with a living faith.
Our nature is so dead, that wre go after that which wre see
immediately before us ; and it is these graces, therefore, that
quicken and strengthen our faith. It may well be that I,
who am so \vicked, measure others by myself, and that others
require nothing more than the verities of the faith, in order
to render their works most perfect ; while I, wretched that
I am ! have need of every thing.
10. Others will explain this. I speak from my own
experience, as I have been commanded; and if what I say
be not correct, let him1 to whom. I send it destroy it ; for he
knows better than I do what is wrong in it. I entreat him,
for the love of our Lord, to publish abroad what I have thus
far said of my wretched life, and of my sins. I give him
leave to do so; and to all my confessors, also, — of whom
he is one, — to whom this is to be sent, if it be their pleasure,
even during my life, so that I may no longer deceive people
who think there must be some good in me.2 Certainly, I
speak in all sincerity, so far as I understand myself. Such
publication will give me great comfort.
11. But as to that which I am now going to say, I give
no such leave ; nor, if it be shown to any one, do I consent
to its being said who the person is whose experience it de
scribes, nor who wrote it. This is why I mention neither
my own name, nor that of any other person whatever. I have
written it in the best way I could, in order not to be known ;
and this I beg of them for the love of God. Persons so
learned and grave as they are" have authority enough to
approve of whatever right things I may say, should our
Lord give me the grace to do so; and if I should say any
thing of the kind, it will be His, and not mine, — because I
am neither learned nor of good life, and I have no person
of learning or any other to teach me ; for they only who
ordered me to write know that I am writing, and at this
1 F. Pedro Ybanez, of the Order of S. Dominic.
2 See cli. xxxi. § 19. 3 See ch. xv. § 15.
62 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. X.
moment they are not here. I have, as it were, to steal the
time, and that with difficulty, because my writing hinders
me from spinning. I am living in a house that is poor, and
have many things to do.1 If, indeed, our Lord had given
me greater abilities and a better memory, I might then profit
by what I have seen and read ; but my abilities are very
slight. If, then, 1 should say any thing that is right, our
Lord will have it said for some good purpose ; that which
may be wrong will be mine, and your reverence will strike
it out.
12. In neither case will it be of any use to publish my
name: during my life, it is clear that no good I may have
done ought to be told ; after death, there is no reason against
it, except that it will lose all authority and credit, because
related of a person so vile and so wicked as I am. And
because I think your reverence and the others who may see
this writing will do this that I ask of you, for the love of
our Lord, I write with freedom. If it were not so, I should
have great scruples, except in declaring my sins : and in that
matter I should have none at all. For the rest, it is enough
that I am a woman to make my sails droop : how much more,
then, when I am a woman, and a wicked one?
13. So, then, every thing here beyond the simple story
of my life your reverence must take upon yourself, — since
you have so pressed me to give some account of the graces
which our Lord bestowed upon me in prayer, — if it be con
sistent with the truths of our holy Catholic faith ; if it be
not, your reverence must burn it at once,- — for I give my
consent. I wrill recount my experience, in order that, if it
be consistent with those truths, your reverence may make
some use of it ; if not, you will deliver my soul from delusion,
so that Satan may gain nothing there where I seemed 'to be
gaining myself. Our Lord knows well that I — as I shall
show hereafter2 — have always laboured to find out those
who could give me light.
14. How clear soever I may wish to make my account
of that which relates to prayer, it will be obscure enough
for those who are without experience. I shall speak of cer
tain hindrances, which, as I understand it, keep men from
advancing on this road, — and of other things which are
1 See ch. xiv. § 12. 2 See ch. xxiv. § 16.
A VILA — ST. TERESA'S YOUTH.
Hye Hoys, del
1-1 he Adaja Gate, through which Saint Teresa passed on her search for
martyrdom among the Moors, and later when she went out to place herself under the
fi ^e +BJeSS£d V'rsin. 2. Statue of Our Lady of Charity, at present in
l in the chapel of the Marquis of Velada. 3. Church and entrance to
^f the Aug-ustmians. In the distance the hamlet of La Serna. 4. View of
the Augustmian convent from the back. 5. Vestibule and turn of the convent.
t>. image of Our Lady of Grace, patroness of the convent. 7. Confessional of the
nuns and school children, called the Confessional of St. Teresa. 8. Allegorical painting
Bruges-, P Raoux Sc
showing the education of Saint Teresa and her vocation for the religious life
9 Maria Brizeiio. 10. Belfry and ruins of the monastery of Mitigated Carmelites.
11. View of La Serna, three miles from Avila, where the Saint's brother, Lorenzo
de Cepeda lived. 12. Escutcheon of Pope Clement VII., who reigned during Saint
Teresa's youth. 13. Escutcheon of Charles V., King of Spain from 1516 14 Es
cutcheon of Lorenzo de Cepeda. 15. Escutcheon of the Augustinians of Avila.
(See Appendix, note 4.)
CH. XI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 63
dangerous, as our Lord has taught me by experience. I
have also discussed the matter with men of great learning,
writh persons who for many years had lived spiritual lives,
who admit that, in the twenty-seven years only during which
I have given myself to prayer, — though I walked so ill, and
stumbled so often on the road, — His Majesty granted me
that experience which others attain to in seven-and-thirty,
or seven-and-forty, years ; and they, too, being persons who
ever advance in the way of penance and of virtue.
15. Blessed be God for all, and may His infinite Majesty
make use of me ! Our Lord knoweth well that I have no
other end in this than that He may be praised and magnified
a little, when men shall see that on a dunghill so foul and
rank He has made a garden of flowers so sweet. May it
please His Majesty that I may not by my own fault root
them out, and become again what I was before. And I entreat
your reverence, for the love of our Lord, to beg this of Him
for me, seeing that you have a clearer knowledge of what I
am than you have allowed me to give of myself here.
CHAPTER XT.
WHY MEN DO NOT ATTAIN QUICKLY TO THE PERFECT LOVE
OF GOD OF FOUR DEGREES OF PRAYER OF THE FIRST
DEGREE THE DOCTRINE PROFITABLE FOR BEGINNERS, AND
FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NO SENSIBLE SWEETNESS.
1. I SPEAK now of those who begin to be the servants
of love ; that seems to me to be nothing else but to resolve
to follow Him in the way of prayer who has loved us so
much. It is a dignity so great, that I have a strange joy in
thinking of it ; for servile fear vanishes at once, if we are,
as we ought to be, in the first degree. O Lord of my soul,
and my Good, how is it that, when a soul is determined to
love Thee, — doing all it can, by forsaking all things, in order
that it may the better occupy itself with the love of God,
— it is not Thy will it should have the joy of ascending at
once to the possession of perfect love? I have spoken amiss;
I ought to have said, and my complaint should have been,
why is it we do not? for the fault is wholly our own that
64 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XI.
we do not rejoice at once in a dignity so great, seeing that
the attaining to the perfect possession of this true love brings
all blessings with it.
2. We think so much of ourselves, and are so dilatory
in giving ourselves wholly to God, that, as His Majesty
will not let us have the fruition of that which is so precious
but at a great cost, so neither do we perfectly prepare our
selves for it. I see plainly that there is nothing by which
so great a good can be procured in this world. If, however,
we did what we could, riot clinging to any thing upon earth,
but having all our thoughts and conversation in heaven, I
believe that this blessing would quickly be given us, pro
vided we perfectly prepared ourselves for it at once, as some
of the Saints have done. We think we are giving all to God ;
but, in fact, we are offering only the revenue or the produce,
while we retain the fee-simple of the land in our own posses
sion.
3. We resolve to become poor, and it is a resolution of
great merit; but we very often take great care not to be in
want, not simply of what is necessary, but of what is super
fluous ; yea, and to make for ourselves friends who may
supply us ; and in this way we take more pains, and perhaps
expose ourselves to greater danger, in order that we may
want nothing, than we did formerly, when we had our own
possessions in our own power.
4. Wre thought, also, that we gave up all desire of
honour when we became religious, or when we began the
spiritual life, and followed after perfection; and yet, when
we are touched on the point of honour, we do not then re
member that we had given it up to God. We would seize
it again, and take it, as they say, out of His hands, even
after we had made Him, to all appearance, the Lord of our
own will. So is it in every thing else.
5. A pleasant way this of seeking the love of God ! we
retain our own affections, and yet will have that love, as they
say, by handfuls. We make no efforts to bring our desires
to good effect, or to' raise them resolutely above the earth ;
and yet, with all this, we must have many spiritual consola
tions. This is not well, and we are seeking things that are
incompatible one with the other. So, because we do not
give ourselves up wholly and at once, this treasure is not
given wholly and at once to us. May it be the good pleasure
CH. XI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 65
of our Lord to give it us drop by drop, though it may cost
us all the trials in the world.
6. He showeth great mercy unto him to whom He gives
the grace and resolution to strive for this blessing with all
his might ; for God withholds Himself from no one who per
severes. He will by little and little strengthen that soul, so
that it may come forth victorious. I say resolution, because
of the multitude of those things which Satan puts before it
at lirst, to keep it back from beginning to travel on this road ;
for he knoweth what harm will befall him thereby — he will
lose not only that soul, but many others also. If he who
enters on this road does violence to himself, with the help
of God, so as to reach the summit of perfection, such a one,
I believe, will never go alone to heaven ; he will always take
many with him : God gives to him, as to a good captain,
those who shall be of his company.
7. Thus, then, the dangers and difficulties which Satan
puts before them are so many, that they have need, not of
a little, but of a very great, resolution, and great grace from
God, to save them from falling away.
8. Speaking, then, of their beginnings who are deter
mined to follow after this good, and to succeed in their enter
prise, — what I began to say1 of mystical theology — I believe
they call it by that name — I shall proceed with hereafter, —
I have to say that the labour is greatest at first ; for it is
they who toil, our Lord, indeed, giving them strength. In
the other degrees of prayer, there is more of fruition ; al
though they \vho are in the beginning, the middle, and the
end, have their crosses to carry : the crosses, however, are
different. They who would follow Christ, if they do not wish
to be lost, must walk in the way He walked Himself. Blessed
labours ! even here, in this life, so superabundantly rewarded !
9. I shall have to make use of a comparison; I should
like to avoid it, because I am a woman, and write simply
what I have been commanded. But this language of spiritu
ality is so difficult of utterance for those who are not learned,
and such am I. I have therefore to seek for some means
to make the matter plain. It may be that the comparison
will very rarely be to the purpose, — your reverence will be
amused when you see my stupidity. I think, now, I have
1 Ch. x. § 1.
66 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XI.
either read or heard of this comparison ; but as my memory
is bad, I know not where, nor on what occasion; however, I
am satisfied with it for my present purpose.1
10. A beginner must look upon himself as making a
garden, wherein our Lord may take His delight, but in a
soil unfruitful, and abounding in weeds. His Majesty roots
up the weeds, and has to plant good herbs. Let us, then,
take for granted that this is already done when a soul is
determined to give itself to prayer, and has begun the prac
tice of it. We have, then, as good gardeners, by the help
of God, to see that the plants grow, to water them carefully,
that they may not die, but produce blossoms, which shall
send forth much fragrance, refreshing to our Lord, so that
He may come often for His pleasure into this garden, and
delight Himself in the midst of these virtues.
11. Let us now see how this garden is to be watered,
that we may understand what we have to do : how much
trouble it will cost us, whether the gain be greater than
the trouble, or how long a time it will take us. It seems
to me that the garden may be watered in four ways: by
water taken out of a well, which is very laborious ; or with
water raised by means of an engine and buckets, drawn by
a windlass, — I have drawn it this way sometimes, — it is a
less troublesome way than the first, and gives more water;
or by a stream or brook, whereby the garden is watered in
a much better way, — for the soil is more thoroughly saturated,
and there is no necessity to water it so often, and the labour
of the gardener is much less ; or by showers of rain, when
our Lord Himself waters it, without labour on our part, —
and this way is incomparably better than all the others of
which I have spoken.
12. Now, then, for the application of these four ways
of irrigation by which the garden is to be maintained ; for
without water it must fail. The comparison is to my pur
pose, and it seems to me that by the help of it I shall be
able to explain, in some measure, the four degrees of prayer
to which our Lord, of His goodness, has occasionally raised
my soul. May He graciously grant that I may so speak as
to be of some service to one of those who has commanded
me to write, whom our Lord has raised in four months to a
1 Vide S. Bernard, in C antic, serm. 30, n. 7, ed. Ben.
CH. XI. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 67
greater height than I have reached in seventeen years! He
prepared himself better than I did, and therefore is his garden,
without labour on his part, irrigated by these four waters,
—though the last of them is only drop by drop; but it is
growing in such a way, that soon, by the help of our Lord,
he will be swallowed up therein, and it will be a pleasure
to me, if he finds my explanation absurd, that he should laugh
at it.
13. Of those who are beginners in prayer, we may say,
that they are those who draw the water up out of the well,
—a process which, as I have said, is very laborious; for
they must be wearied in keeping the senses recollected, and
this is a great labour, because the senses have been hitherto
accustomed to distractions. It is necessary for beginners to
accustom themselves to disregard what they hear or see, and
to put it away from them during the time of prayer; they
must be alone, and in retirement think over their past life.
Though all must do this many times, beginners as well as
those more advanced; all, however, must not do so equally,
as I shall show hereafter.1 Beginners at first suffer much,'
because they are not convinced that they are penitent for
their sins; and yet they are, because they are so sincerely
resolved on serving God. They must strive to meditate on
the life of Christ, and the understanding is wearied thereby.
Thus far we can advance of ourselves, — that is, by the grace
of God,— for without that, as every one knows, we never
can have one good thought.
14. This is beginning to draw water up out of the well.
God grant there may be water in it! That, however, does
not depend on us; we are drawing it, and doing what we
can towards watering the flowers. So good is God, that when,
for reasons known to His Majesty,— perhaps for our greater
good,— it is His will the well should be dry, He Himself
preserves the flowers without water, — we, like good gardeners,
doing what lies in our power, — and makes our virtues grow.
By water here I mean tears, and if there be none, then ten
derness and an inward feeling of devotion.
15. What, then, will he do here who sees that, for many
days, he is conscious only of aridity, disgust, dislike, and so
great an unwillingness to go to the well for water, that he
68 Till-: LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XI.
would give it up altogether, if he did not remember that he
has to please and serve the Lord of the garden; if he did
not trust that his service was not in vain, and did not hope
for some gain by a labour so great as that of lowering the
bucket into the well so often, and drawing it up without
water in it? It will happen that he is often unable to move
his arms for that purpose, or to have one good thought :
working with the understanding is drawing water out of the
well.
16. What, then, once more, will the gardener do now?
He must rejoice and take comfort, and consider it as the
greatest favour to labour in the garden of so great an
Emperor; and as he knows that he is pleasing Him in the
matter, — and his purpose must be not to please himself, but
Him, — let him praise Him greatly for the trust He has in
him, — for He sees that, without any recompense, he is taking
so much care of that which has been confided to him ; let him
help Him to carry the cross, and let him think how He carried
it all His life long; let him not seek his kingdom here, nor
ever intermit his prayer; and so let him resolve, if this
aridity should last even his whole life long, never to let Christ
fall down beneath the cross.1
17. The time will come when he shall be paid once for
all. Let him have no fear that his labour is in vain: he
serves a good Master, whose eyes are upon him. Let him
make no account of evil thoughts, but remember that Satan
suggested them to St. Jerome also in the desert.2 These
labours have their reward, I know it ; for I am one who
underwent them for many years. When I drew but one drop
of water out of this blessed well, I considered it was a mercy
of God. I know these labours are very great, and require,
I think, greater courage than many others in this world ;
but I have seen clearly that God does not leave them without
1 See ch. xv. § 17.
2 Epist. 22, ad Eustochium; "O quoties ego ipse in eremo constitu-
tus, et in ilia vasta solitudine quse exusta solis ardoribus horridum
monachis prsestat habitaculum putabam me Romanis interesse deliciis.
Sedebam solus .... Horrebant sacco membra deformia .... Ille
igitur ego, qui ob Gehennae metum tali me carcere damnaveram,
scorpionum tantum socius et ferarum, saepe choris intereram puellarum,
pallebant ora jejuniis, et mens desideriis sestuabat in frigido corpore,
et ante hominem sua jam carne pnemortuurn sola libidinum incendia
bulliebant."
CH. XI. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 69
a great recompense, even in this life; for it is very certain
that in one hour, during which our Lord gave me to taste
His sweetness, all the anxieties which I had to bear when
persevering in prayer seem to me ever afterwards perfectly
rewarded.
18. I believe that it is our Lord's good pleasure fre
quently in the beginning, and at times in the end, to send
these torments, and many other incidental temptations, to
try those who love Him, and to ascertain if they will drink
the chalice,1 and help Him to carry the cross before He in
trusts them with His great treasures. I believe it to be for our
good that His Majesty should lead us by this way, so that
we may perfectly understand how worthless we are; for the
graces which He gives afterwards are of a dignity so great,
that He will have us by experience know our wretchedness
before He grants them, that it may not be with us as it was
with Lucifer.
19. What canst thou do, O my Lord, that is not for
the greater good of that soul which Thou knowest to be
already Thine, and which gives itself up to Thee to follow
Thee whithersoever Thou goest, even to the death of the
cross; and which is determined to help Thee to carry that
cross, and not to leave Thee alone with it? He who shall
discern this resolution in himself has nothing to fear: no, no;
spiritual people have nothing to fear. There is no reason
why he should be distressed who is already raised to so high
a degree as this is of wishing to converse in solitude with
God, and to abandon the amusements of the world. The
greater part of the work is done; give praise to His Majesty
for it, and trust in His goodness who has never failed those
who love Him. Close the eyes of your imagination, and do
not ask why He gives devotion to this person in so short a
time, and none to me after so many years. Let us believe that
all is for our greater good; let His Majesty guide us whither
soever He will : we are not our own, but His. He shows us
mercy enough when it is His pleasure we should be willing
to dig in His garden, and to be so near the Lord of it: He
certainly is near to us. If it be His will that these plants
and flowers should grow, — some of them when He gives
water we may draw from the well, others when He gives
1 S. Matt. xx. 22.
70 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XL
none, — what is that to me? Do Thou, O Lord, accomplish
Thy will ; let me never offend Thee, nor let my virtues perish ;
if Thou hast given me any, it is out of Thy mere goodness.
I wish to suffer, because Thou, O Lord, hast suffered; do
Thou in every way fulfil Thy will in me, and may it never
be the pleasure of Thy Majesty that a gift of so high a price,
as that of Thy love, be given to people who serve Thee only
because of the sweetness they find thereby.
20. It is much to be observed, and I say so because I
know by experience, that the soul which begins to walk in
the way of mental prayer with resolution, and is determined
not to care much, neither to rejoice nor to be greatly afflicted,
whether sweetness and tenderness fail it, or our Lord grants
them, has already travelled a great part of the road. Let
that soul, then, have no fear that it is going back, though
it may frequently stumble ; for the building is begun on a
firm foundation. It is certain that the love of God does not
consist in tears, nor in this sweetness and tenderness which
we for the most part desire, and with which we console
ourselves ; but rather in serving Him in justice, fortitude, and
humility. That seems to me to be a receiving rather than
a giving of any thing on our part.
21. As for poor women, such as I am, weak and infirm of
purpose, it seems to me to be necessary that I should be
led on through consolations, as God is doing now, so that
I might be able to endure certain afflictions which it has
pleased His Majesty I should have. But when the servants
of God, who are men of weight, learning, and sense, make
so much account, as I see they do, whether God gives them
sweetness in devotion or not, I am disgusted when I listen
to them. I do not say that they ought not to accept it, and
make much of it, when God gives it, — because, when He
gives it, His Majesty sees it to be necessary for them, —
but I do say that they ought not to grow weary when they
have it not. They should then understand that they have
no need of it, and be masters of themselves, when His Majesty
does not give it.. Let them be convinced of this, there is a
fault here ; I have had experience of it, and know it to be
so. Let them believe it is an imperfection ; they are not ad
vancing in liberty of spirit, but shrinking like cowards from
the assault.
22. It is not so much to beginners that I sav this —
CH. XI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 71
though I do insist upon it, because it is of great importance
to them that they should begin with this liberty and resolu
tion — as to others, of whom there are many, who make a
beginning, but never come to the end; and that is owing,
I believe, in great measure, to their not having embraced the
cross from the first. They are distressed, thinking they are
doing nothing; the understanding ceases from its acts, and
they cannot bear it. Yet perhaps, at that very time, the
will is feeding and gathering strength, and they know it not.
23. We must suppose that our Lord does not regard
these things ; for though they seem to us to be faults, yet
they are not. His Majesty knoweth our misery and natural
vileness better than we do ourselves. He knoweth that these
souls long to be always thinking of Him and loving Him.
It is this resolution that He seeks in us; the other anxieties
which we inflict upon ourselves serve to no other end but
to disquiet the soul — which, if it be unable to derive any
profit in one hour, will by them be disabled for four. This
comes most frequently from bodily indisposition, — I have
had very great experience in the matter, and I know it is
true ; for I have carefully observed it and discussed it after
wards with spiritual persons, — for we are so wretched, that
this poor prisoner of a soul shares in the miseries of the
body. The changes of the seasons, and the alterations of
the humours, very often compel it, without fault of its own,
not to do what it would, but rather to suffer in every way.
Meanwhile, the more we force the soul on these occasions,
the greater the mischief, and the longer it lasts. Some dis
cretion must be used, in order to ascertain whether ill-health
be the occasion or not. The poor soul must not be stifled.
Let those who thus suffer understand that they are ill ; a
change should be made in the hour of prayer, and often
times that change should be continued for some days. Let
souls pass out of this desert as they can, for it is very often the
misery of one that loves God to see itself living in such
wretchedness, unable to do what it would, because it has
to keep so evil a guest as the body.
24. I spoke of discretion, because sometimes the devil
will do the same wrork ; and so it is not always right to omit
prayer when the understanding is greatly distracted and
disturbed, nor to torment the soul to the doing of that which
is out of its power. There are other things then to be done
72 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [dl. XII.
— exterior works, as of charity and spiritual reading — though
at times the soul will not be able to do them. Take care,
then, of the body, for the love of God, because at many other
times the body must serve the soul ; and let recourse be had
to some recreations, — holy ones, — such as conversation, or
going out into the fields, as the confessor shall advise. Alto
gether, experience is a great matter and it makes us under
stand what is convenient for us. Let God be served in all
things — His yoke is sweet ;l and it is of great importance
that the soul should not be dragged, as they say, but carried
gently, that it may make greater progress.
25. So, then, I come back to what I advised before,2—
and though I repeat it often, it matters not ; it is of great im
portance that no one should distress himself on account of
aridities, or because his thoughts are restless and distracted;
neither should he -be afflicted thereat, if he would attain to
liberty of spirit, and not be always in trouble. Let him
begin by not being afraid of the cross, and he wrill see how
our Lord will help him to carry it, how joyfully he will ad
vance, and what profit he will derive from it all. It is now
clear, if there is no water in the well, that we at least can put
none into it. It is true we must not be careless about drawing
it when there is any in it, because at that time it is the will
of God to multiply our virtues by means thereof.
CHAPTER XII.
WHAT WE CAN OURSELVES DO — THE EVIL OF DESIRING TO ATTAIN
TO SUPERNATURAL STATES BEFORE OUR LORD CALLS US.
1. MY aim in the foregoing chapter — though I digressed
to many other matters, because they seemed to me very
necessary — was to explain how much we may attain to of
ourselves ; and how, in these beginnings of devotion, we
are able in some degree to help ourselves : because thinking
of, and pondering on, the sufferings of our Lord for our
sake moves us to compassion, and the sorrow' and tears which
result therefrom are sweet. The thought of the blessedness
1 S. Matt. xi. 30. 2 § 18.
CH. XII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 73
we hope for, of the love our Lord bore us, and of His resur
rection, kindle within us a joy which is neither wholly spiritual
nor wholly sensual; but the joy is virtuous, and the sorrow
is most meritorious.
2. Of this kind are all those things which produce a
devotion acquired in part by means of the understanding,
though it can neither be merited nor had, if God grants it not.
It is best for a soul which God has not raised to a higher
state than this not to try to rise of itself. Let this be well
considered, because all the soul will gain in that way will
be a loss. In this state it can make many acts of good resolu
tions to do much for God, and enkindle its love; other acts
also, which may help the growth of virtues, according to that
which is written in a book called The Art of Serving God;1 a
most excellent work, and profitable for those who are in
this state, because the understanding is active now.
3. The soul may also place itself in the presence of
Christ, and accustom itself to many acts of love directed to
His sacred Humanity, and remain in His presence continually,
and speak to Him, pray to Him in its necessities, and com
plain to Him of its troubles ; be merry with Him in its joys,
and yet not forget Him because of its joys. All this it may
do without set prayers, but rather with words befitting its
desires and its needs.
4. This is an excellent way whereby to advance, and
that very quickly. He that will strive to have this precious
companionship, and wrill make much of it, and will sincerely
love our Lord, to whom we owe so much, is one, in my
opinion, who has made some progress. There is therefore
no reason why we should trouble ourselves because we have
no sensible devotion, as I said before.2 But let us rather
give thanks to our Lord, who allows us to have a desire to
please Him, though our works be poor. This practice of
the presence of Christ is profitable in all states of prayer,
and is a most safe way of advancing in the first state, and
of attaining quickly to the second; and as for the last states,
it secures us against those risks which the devil may occasion.
1 Arte de servir a Dios, by Rodrigue de Solis, friar of the Augus-
tinian Order (Bonix). Arte para servir a Dios, by Fra Alonso de Mad
rid (De la Fuente}.
2 Ch. ix. §§ 20, 25.
74 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XII.
5. This, then, is what we can do. He who would pass
out of this state, and upraise his spirit, in order to taste con
solations denied him, will, in my opinion, lose both the one
and the other.1 Those consolations being supernatural, and
the understanding inactive, the soul is then left desolate and
in great aridity. As the foundation of the whole building is
humility, the nearer we draw unto God, the more this virtue
should grow; if it does not, every thing is lost. It seems
to be a kind of pride when we seek to ascend higher, seeing
that God descends so low, when He allows us, being what
we are, to draw near unto Him.
6. It must not be supposed that I am now speaking of
raising our thoughts to the consideration of the high things
of heaven and of its glory, or unto God and His great Avisdom.
I never did this myself, because I had not the capacity for it —
as I said before ;2 and I was so worthless, that, as to thinking
even of the things of earth, God gave me grace to understand
this truth : that in me it was no slight boldness to do so.
How much more, then, the thinking of heavenly things?
Others, however, will profit in that way, particularly those
who are learned ; for learning, in my opinion, is a great
treasury in the matter of this exercise, if it be accompanied
with humility. I observed this a few days ago in some
learned men who had shortly before made a beginning, and
had made great progress. This is the reason why I am so
very anxious that many learned men may become spiritual.
I shall speak of this by and by.3
7. What I am saying — namely, let them not rise if God
does not raise them — is the language of spirituality. He
will understand me who has had any experience ; and I know
not how to explain it, if what I have said does not make it
plain.
8. In mystical theology, — of which I spoke before,4 —
the understanding ceases from its acts, because God suspends
it — as I shall explain by and by, if I can ; and God give me
the grace to do so. We must neither imagine nor think that
1 That is, he will lose the prayer of acquired quiet, because he
voluntarily abandons it before the time; and will not attain to the
prayer of infused quiet, because he attempts to rise into it before he is
called (Francis, de Santo Thomas, Medula Mystic, tr. iv. ch. xi. n. 69).
2 Ch. iv. § 10. 3 Ch. xxxiv. § 9. 4 Ch. x. § 1.
CH. XII. j WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 75
we can of ourselves bring about this suspension. That is
what I say must not be done; nor must we allow the under
standing to cease from its acts; for in that case we shall be
stupid and cold, and the result will be neither the one nor
the other. For when our Lord suspends the understanding,
and makes it cease from its acts, He puts before it that which
astonishes and occupies it: so that, without making any re
flections, it shall comprehend in a moment1 more than we
could comprehend in many years with all the efforts in the
world.
9. To have the powers of the mind occupied, and to think
that you can keep them at the same time quiet, is folly. I
repeat it, though it be not so understood, there is no great
humility in this; and, if it be blameless, it is not left un
punished — it is labour thrown away, and the soul is a little
disgusted: it feels like a man about to take a leap, and is
held back. Such a one seems to have used up his strength
already, and finds himself unable to do that which he wished
to have done: so here, in the scanty gain that remains, he
who will consider the matter will trace that slight want of
humility of which I have spoken;2 for that virtue has this
excellence: there is no good work attended by humility that
leaves the soul disgusted. It seems to me that I have made
this clear enough; yet, after all, perhaps only for myself.
May our Lord open their eyes who read this, by giving them
experience; and then, however slight that experience may be,
they will immediately understand it.
10. For many years I read much, and understood noth
ing; and for a long time, too, though God gave me under
standing herein, I never could utter a word by which I
might explain it to others. This was no little trouble to me.
When His Majesty pleases, He teaches every thing in a
moment, so that I am lost in wonder. One thing I can truly say
though I conversed with many spiritual persons, who sought
to make me understand what our Lord was giving me, in
order that I might be able to speak of it, the fact is, that
my dulness was so great, that I derived no advantage what
ever, much or little, from their teaching.
11. Or it may be, as His Majesty has always been my
Master,— may He be blessed for ever! for I am ashamed of
1 "En un credo."
76 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XIII.
myself that I can say so with truth, — that it was His good
pleasure I should meet with no one to whom I should be
indebted in this matter. So, without my wishing or asking
it, — I never was careful about this, for that would have been
a virtue in me, but only about vanity, — God gave me to under
stand with all distinctness in a moment, and also enabled
me to express myself, so that my confessors were astonished;
but I more than they, because I knew my own dulness better.
It is not long since this happened. And so that which our
Lord has not taught me, I seek not to know it, unless it be
a matter that touches my conscience.
12. Again I repeat my advice : it is of great moment not
to raise our spirit ourselves, if our Lord does not raise it
for us ; and if He does, there can be no mistaking it. For
women, it is specially wrong, because the devil can delude
them, — though I am certain our Lord will never allow him
to hurt any one who labours to draw near unto God in
humility. On the contrary, such a one will derive more profit
and advantage out of that attack by which Satan intended
to hurt him.
13. I have dwelt so long upon this matter because this
way of prayer is the most common with beginners, and be
cause the advice I have given is very important. It will be
found much better given elsewhere : that I admit ; and I admit,
also, that in writing it I am ashamed of myself, and covered
with confusion — though not so much so as I ought to be.
Blessed for ever be our Lord, of Whose will and pleasure
it is that I am allowed, being what I am, to speak of things
which are His, of such a nature, and so deep !
CHAPTER XIII.
OF CERTAIN TEMPTATIONS OF SATAN — INSTRUCTIONS RELATING
THERETO.
1. I HAVE thought it right to speak of certain temptations
I have observed to which beginners are liable, — some of them
I have had myself, — and to give some advice about certain
things which to me seem necessary. In the beginning, then,
we should strive to be cheerful and unconstrained ; for there
CH. XIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 77
are people who think it is all over with devotion if they relax
themselves ever so little. It is right to be afraid of self : so
that, having no confidence in ourselves, much or little, we
may not place ourselves in those circumstances wherein men
usually sin against God ; for it is a most necessary fear, till
we become very perfect in virtue. And there are not many
who are so perfect as to be able to relax themselves on those
occasions which . offer temptations to their natural temper ;
for always while we live, \vere it only to preserve humility,
it is well we should know our own miserable nature ; but
there are many occasions on which it is permitted us — as I
said just now1 — to take some recreation, in order that we
may with more vigour resume our prayer.
2. Discretion is necessary throughout. We must have
great confidence ; because it is very necessary for us not to
contract our desires, but put our trust in God ; for, if we do
violence to ourselves by little and little, we shall, though
not at once, reach that height which many Saints by His
grace have reached. If they had never resolved to desire,
and had never by little and little acted upon that resolve,
they never could have ascended to so high a state.
3. His Majesty seeks and loves courageous souls; but
they must be humble in their ways, and have no confidence
in themselves. I never saw one of these lag behind on the
road; and never a cowardly soul, though aided by humility,
make that progress in many years which the former makes
in a few. I am astonished at the great things done on this
road by encouraging oneself to undertake great things, though
we may not have the strength for them at once : the soul
takes a flight upwards and ascends high, though, like a little
bird whose wings are weak, it grows weary and rests.
4. At one time, I used often to think of those words of
S. Paul : "That all things are possible in God."2 I saw clearly
that of myself I could do nothing. This was of great service
to me. So also was the saying of S. Augustine : "Give me,
O Lord, what Thou commandest, and command what Thou
wilt."3 I was often thinking how S. Peter lost nothing by
throwing himself into the sea, though he was afterwards
afraid.4 These first resolutions are a great matter, — although
1 Ch. xi. § 24. 2 Philipp. iv. 13.
3 Confess, x. ch. 29. 4 S. Matt. xiv. 30.
78 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XIII.
it is necessary in the beginning that we should be very re
served, controlled by the discretion and authority of a director ;
but we must take care that he be one who does not teach
us to crawl like toads, nor one who may be satisfied when
the soul shows itself fit only to catch lizards. Humility must
always go before: so that we may know that this strength
can come out of no strength of our own.
5. But it is necessary we should understand what manner
of humility this should be, because Satan, I believe, does
great harm; for he hinders those who begin to pray from
going onwards, by suggesting to them false notions of hu
mility. He makes them think it is pride to have large desires,
to wish to imitate the Saints, and to long for martyrdom.
He tells us forthwith, or he makes us think, that the actions
of the Saints are to be admired, not to be imitated, by us
who are sinners. I, too, say the same thing; but we must
see what those actions are which we are to admire, and what
those are which we are to imitate ; for it would be wrong in
a person who is weak and sickly to undertake much fasting
and sharp penances — to retire into the desert, where he could
not sleep, nor find any thing to eat; or, indeed, to undertake
any austerities of this kind.
6. But we ought to think that we can force ourselves,
by the grace of God, to hold the world in profound contempt
— to make light of honour, and be detached from our posses
sions. Our hearts, however, are so mean, that we think the
earth would fail us under our feet, if we were to cease to
care even for a moment for the body, and give ourselves up
to spirituality. Then we think that to have all we require
contributes to recollection, because anxieties disturb prayer.
It is painful to me that our confidence in God is so scanty,
and our self-love so strong, as that any anxiety about our
own necessities should disturb us. But so it is ; for when
our spiritual progress is so slight, a mere nothing will give
us as much trouble as great and important matters will give
to others. And we think ourselves spiritual !
7. Now, to me, this way of going on seems to betray a
disposition to reconcile soul and body together, in order that
we may not miss our ease in this world, and yet have the
fruition of God in the next: and so it will be if we walk
according to justice, clinging to virtue ; but it is the pace of
a hen — it will never bring us to liberty of spirit. It is a
C H. XIII. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 79
course of proceeding, as it seems to me, most excellent for
those who are in the married state, and who must live
according to their vocation; but for the other state, I by no
means wish for such a method of progress, neither can I
be made to believe it to be sound; for I have tried it, and
I should have remained in that way, if our Lord in His good
ness had not taught me another and a shorter road.
8. Though, in the matter of desires, I always had gen
erous ones; but I laboured, as I said before,1 to make mv
prayer, and, at the same time, to live at my ease. If there
had been any one to rouse me to a higher flight, he might
have brought me, so I think, to a state in which these desires
might have had their effects ; but, for our sins, so few and so
rare are they whose discretion in that matter is not excessive.
That, I believe, is reason enough why those who begin do
not attain more quickly to great perfection; for our Lord
never fails us, and it is not His fault; the fault and the
wretchedness of this being all our own.
9. We may also imitate the Saints by striving after soli
tude and silence, and many other virtues that will not kill
these wretched bodies of ours, which insist on being treated
so orderly, that they may disorder the soul; and Satan, too,
helps much to make them unmanageable. When he sees us
a little anxious about them, he wants nothing more to con
vince us that our way of life must kill us, and destroy our
health; even if we weep, he makes us afraid of blindness.
I have passed through this, and therefore I know it; but I
know of no better sight or better health that we can desire,
than the loss of both in such a cause. Being myself so
sickly, I was always under constraint, and good for nothing,
till I resolved to make no account of my body nor of my
health ; even now I am worthless enough.
10. But when it pleased God to let me find out this
device of Satan, I used to say to the latter, when he suggested
to me that I was ruining my health, that my death was of
no consequence; when he suggested rest, I replied that I did
not want rest, but the cross. His other suggestions I treated
in the same way. I saw clearly that in most things, though
I was really very sickly, it was either a temptation of Satan,
or a weakness on my part. My health has been much better
1 Ch. vii. §§ 27, 30.
80 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XIII.
since 1 have ceased to look after my ease and comforts. It
is of great importance not to let our own thoughts frighten
us in the beginning, when we set ourselves to pray. Believe
me in this, for I know it by experience. As a warning to
others, it may be that this story of my failures may be useful.
11. There is another temptation, which is very common:
when people begin to have pleasure in the rest and the fruit
of prayer, they will have every body else be very spiritual
also. Now, to desire this is not wrong, but to try to bring
it about may not be right, except with great discretion and
with much reserve, without any appearance of teaching. He
who would do any good in this matter ought to be endowed
with solid virtues, that he may not put temptation in the
way of others. It happened to me — that is how I know it
— when, as I said before,1 i made others apply themselves
to prayer, to be a source of temptation and disorder; for,
on the one hand, they heard me say great things of the blessed
ness of prayer, and, on the other, saw how poor I was in
virtue, notwithstanding my prayer. They had good reasons
on their side, and afterwards they told me of it; for they
knew not how these things could be compatible one with the
other. This it was that made them not to regard that as
evil which was really so in itself, namely, that they saw me
do it myself, now and then, during the time that they thought
well of me in some measure.
12. This is Satan's work: he seems to take advantage
of the virtues we may have, for the purpose of giving a
sanction, so far as he can, to the evil he aims at ; how slight
soever that evil may be, his gain must be great, if it pre
vail in a religious house. How much, then, must his gain
have been, when the evil I did was so very great ! And
thus, during many years, only three persons were the better
for what I said to them ; but now that our Lord has made
me stronger in virtue, in the course of two or three years
many persons have profited, as I shall show hereafter.2
13. There is another great inconvenience in addition
to this: the loss to our own soul; for. the utmost we have
to do in the beginning is to take care of our own soul only,
and consider that in the whole world there is only God and
our soul. This is a point of great importance.
1 Ch. vii. § 16. 2 See ch. xxxi. § 7, and ch. xxxix. § 14.
CH. XIII. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 81
14. There is another temptation, — we ought to be aware
of it, and be cautious in our conduct : persons are carried
away by a zeal for virtue, through the pain which the sight
of the sins and failings of others occasions them. Satan tells
them that this pain arises only out of their desire that God
may not be offended, and out of their anxiety about His
honour; so they immediately seek to remedy the evil. This
so disturbs them, that they cannot pray. The greatest evil
of all is their thinking this an act of virtue, of perfection,
and of a great zeal for God. I am not speaking of the pain
which public sins occasion, if they be habitual in any com
munity, nor of wrongs done to the Church, nor of heresies
by which so many souls are visibly lost ; for this pain is most
wholesome, and being wholesome is no source of disquiet.
The security, therefore, of that soul which would apply itself
to prayer lies in casting away from itself all anxiety about
persons and things, in taking care of itself, and in pleasing-
God. This is the most profitable course.
15. If I were to speak of the mistakes which I have
seen people make, in reliance on their own good intentions,
I should never come to an end. Let us labour, therefore,
always to consider the virtues and the good qualities which
we discern in others, and with our own great sins cover our
eyes, so that we may see none of their failings. This is
one way of doing our work ; and though we may not be
perfect in it at once, we shall acquire one great virtue, —
we shall look upon all men as better than ourselves ; and we
begin to acquire that virtue in this way, by the grace of
God, which is necessary in all things — for when we have it
not, all our endeavours are in vain — and by imploring Him
to give us this virtue ; for He never fails us, if we do what
we can.
16. This advice, also, they must take into their con
sideration who make much use of their understanding, elicit
ing from one subject many thoughts and conceptions. As
to those who, like myself, cannot do it, I have no advice to
give, except that they are to have patience, until our Lord
shall send them both matter and light ; for they can do so
little of themselves, that their understanding is a hindrance
to them rather than a help.
17. To those, then, who can make use of their under
standing, T say that they are not to spend the whole time
82 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XIII.
in that way; for though it be most meritorious, yet they
must not, when prayer is sweet, suppose that there never
will be a Sunday or a time when no work ought to be done.
They think it lost time to do otherwise ; but I think that
loss their greatest gain. Let them rather, as I have said,1
place themselves in the presence of Christ, and, without
fatiguing the understanding, converse with Him, and in Him
rejoice, without wearying themselves in searching out reasons;
but let them rather lay their necessities before Him, and
the just reasons there are why He should not suffer us in
His presence : at one time this, at another time that, lest
the soul should be wearied by always eating of the same
food. These meats are most savoury and wholesome, if the
palate be accustomed to them; they will furnish a great sup
port for the life of the soul, and they have many other advan
tages also.
18. I will explain myself further; for the doctrine of
prayer is difficult, and, without a director, very hard to under
stand. Though I would willingly be concise, and though
a mere hint is enough for his clear intellect who has com
manded me to write on the subject of prayer, yet so it is,
my dulness does not allow me to say or explain in a few
words that which it is so important to explain well. I, who
have gone through so much, am sorry for those who begin
only with books ; for there is a strange difference between
that which we learn by reading, and that which we learn
by experience.
19. Going back, then, to what I was saying. We set
ourselves to meditate upon some mystery of the Passion :
let us say, our Lord at the pillar. The understanding goeth
about seeking for the sources out of which came the great
dolors and the bitter anguish which His Majesty endured
in that desolation. It considers that mystery in many lights,
which the intellect, if it be skilled in its work, or furnished
with learning, may there obtain. This is a method of prayer
which should be to every one the beginning, the middle,
and the end ; a most excellent and safe way, until our Lord
shall guide them to other supernatural ways.
20. I say to all, because there are many souls who make
greater progress by meditation on other subjects than on the
1 Ch. xii. § 3.
CH. XIII. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 83
Sacred Passion; for as there are many mansions in heaven,
so are there also many roads leading thither. Some per
sons advance by considering themselves in hell, others in
heaven, — and these are distressed by meditations on hell.
Others meditate on death ; some persons, if tender-hearted,
are greatly fatigued by continual meditations on the Passion ;
but are consoled and make progress when they meditate on
the power and greatness of God in His creatures, and on
His love visible in all things. This is an admirable method,
—not omitting, however, from time to time the Passion and
Life of Christ, the Source of all good that ever came, and
that ever shall come.
21. He who begins is in need of instruction, whereby he
may ascertain what profits him most. For this end it is very
necessary he should have a director, who ought to be a person
of experience; for if he be not, he will make many mistakes,
and direct a soul without understanding its ways, or suffering
it to understand them itself; for such a soul, knowing that
obedience to a director is highly meritorious, dares not trans
gress the commandments it receives. I have met with souls
cramped and tormented, because he who directed them had
no experience : that made me sorry for them. Some of them
knew not what to do with themselves ; for directors who do
not understand the spirit of their penitents afflict them soul
and body, and hinder their progress.1
22. One person I had to do with had been kept by her
director for eight years, as it were, in prison : he would not
allow her to quit the subject of self-knowledge; and yet our
Lord had already raised her to the prayer of quiet ; so she had
much to suffer.
23. Although this matter of self-knowledge must never
be put aside, — for there is no soul so great a giant on this
road but has frequent need to turn back, and be again an
infant at the breast ; and this must never be forgotten. I
shall repeat it,2 perhaps, many times, because of its great
importance — for among all the states of prayer, however high
they may be, there is not one in which it is not often
necessary to go back to the beginning. The knowledge of
1 See S. John .of the Cross, Living Flame, pp. 267, 278-284, Engl.
trans.
2 See ch. xv. § 20.
84 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XIII.
our sins, and of our own selves, is the bread which
we have to eat with all the meats, however delicate they
may be in the way of prayer; without this bread, life cannot
be sustained, though it must be taken by measure. When
a soul beholds itself resigned, and clearly understands that
there is no goodness in it, — when it feels itself abashed in the
presence of so great a King, and sees how little it pays of
the great debt it owes Him, — why should it be necessary
for it to waste its time on this subject? Why should it not
rather proceed to other matters which our Lord places before
it, and for neglecting which there is no reason? His Majesty
surely knows better than we do what kind of food is proper
for us.
24. So, then, it is of great consequence that the director
should be prudent — I mean, of sound understanding — and a
man of experience. If, in addition to this, he is a learned
man, it is a very great matter. But if these three qualities can
not be had together, the first two are the most important, be
cause learned men may be found with whom we can com
municate when it is necessary. I mean, that for beginners
learned men are of little use, if they are not men of prayer.
I do not say that they are to have nothing to do with
learned men, because a spirituality, the foundations of which
are not resting on the truth, I would rather were not accom
panied with prayer. Learning is a great thing, for it teaches
us who know so little, and enlightens us ; so when we have
come to the knowledge of the truths contained in the holy
writings, we do what we ought to do. From silly devotions,
God deliver us !
25. I will explain myself further, for I am meddling, I
believe, with too many matters. It has always been my fail
ing that I could never make myself understood, — as I said
before,1 — but at the cost of many words. A nun begins to
practise prayer; if her director be silly, and if he should
take it into his head, he will make her feel that it is better
for her to obey him than her own superior. He will do all
this without any evil purpose, thinking that he is doing right.
For if he be not a religious himself, he will think this right
enough. If his penitent be a married woman, he will tell
her that it is better for her to give herself unto prayer, when
§ 18.
CH. XIII. ] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 85
she ought to attend to her house, although she may thereby
displease her husband. And so it is he knows not how to
make arrangements for time and business, so that every thing
may be done as it ought to be done; he has no light him
self, and can therefore give none to others, however much
he may wish to do so.
26. Though learning does not seem necessary for di
rection, my opinion has always been, and will be, that every
Christian should continue to be guided by a learned director
if he can, and the more learned the better. They who walk
in the way of prayer have the greater need of learning ; and
the more spiritual they are, the greater is that need. Let
them not say that learned men not given to prayer are not
fit counsellors for those who pray : that is a delusion. I
have conversed with many ; and now for some years I have
sought them the more, because of my greater need of them.
I have always been fond of them; for though some of them
have no experience, they do not dislike spirituality, neither are
they ignorant of what it is, because in the sacred writings
with which they are familiar they always find the truth
about spirituality. I am certain myself that a person given
to prayer, who treats of these matters with learned men,
unless he is deceived with his own consent, will never be
carried away by any illusions of the devil. I believe that
the evil spirits are exceedingly afraid of learned men who
are humble and virtuous, knowing that they will be found
out and defeated by them.
27. I have said this because there are opinions held to
the effect that learned men, if they are not spiritual, are not
suited for persons given to prayer. I have just said that a
spiritual director is necessary ; but if he be not a learned
man, he is a great hindrance. It will help us much if we
consult those who are learned, provided they be virtuous;
even if they be not spiritual, they will be of service to me,
and God will enable them to understand what they should
teach ; He will even make them spiritual, in order that they
may help us on. I do not say this without having had
experience of it ; and I have met with more than two.
28. I say, then, that a person who shall resign his soul
to be wholly subject to one director will make a great mis
take, if he is in religion, unless he finds a director of this
kind, because of the obedience due to his own superior. His
86 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [cH. XIII.
director may be deficient in the three requisites I speak of,1
and that will be no slight cross, without voluntarily sub
jecting- the understanding to one whose understanding is
none of the best. At least, I have never been able to bring
myself to do it, neither does it seem to me to be right.
29. But if he be a person living in the world, let him
praise God for the power he has of choosing whom he will
obey, and let him not lose so excellent a liberty; yea, rather
let him be without a director till he finds him, — for our
Lord will give him one, if he is really humble, and has a
desire to meet with the right person. I praise God greatly
—we women, and those who are unlearned, ought always
to render Him unceasing thanks — because there are persons
who, by labours so great, have attained to the truth, of which
wre unlearned people are ignorant. I often wonder at learned
men — particularly those who are in religion — when I think
of the trouble they have had in acquiring that which they
communicate to me for my good, and that without any
more trouble to me than the asking for it. And yet there
are people who will not take advantage of their learning:
God grant it may not be so !
30. I see them undergo the poverty of the religious
life, which is great, together with its penances, its meagre
food, the yoke of obedience, which makes me ashamed of
myself at times ; and with all this, interrupted sleep, trials
everywhere, everywhere the Cross. I think it would be
a great evil for any one to lose so great a good by his own
fault. It may be that some of us, who are exempted from
these burdens, — who have our food put into our mouths, as
they say, and live at our ease, — may think, because we give
ourselves a little more to prayer, that we are raised above
the necessity of such great hardships. Blessed be Thou, O
Lord, who hast made me so incapable and so useless ; but
I bless Thee still more for this — that Thou quickenest so
many to quicken us. Our prayer must therefore be very
earnest for those who give us light. What should we be
without them in the midst of these violent storms which
now disturb the Church? If some have fallen, the good will
shine more and more.2 May it please our Lord to hold
them in His hand, and help them, that they may help us.
1 Prudence, experience, and learning; see § 24. 2 Dan. xii. 3.
AVILA— MONASTERY OF THE INCARNATION. I.
Hye Hoys, del
1. General view of the monastery of the Incarnation, taken from the city wall.
In the foreground is seen a Noria. 2. Entrance to the monastery. 3. View of the
monastery from the rear. 4. Door of the church with archivolts in granite, charac
teristic of the local architecture. 5. Statue of Our I.ady of Pity, brought here by
Saint Teresa. 6. Staircase in the cloister, site of the vision of Our Lord carrying1
His cross. 7. Fresco representing- Our Lord fastened to the column, in the inner
vestibule of the monastery. 8. Door of the cell, now destroyed, where the Trans-
verberation took place. 9. Monument constructed from the wood work of the
V.
Bruges, P. Raoux. Sc.
cell and placed in a hermitage in the garden. 10. Sepulchral slab of Franclsca del
Aiiiiila, Prioress of the monastery in the time of Saint Teresa. 11. Copy of an
original pen-sketch made by Saint John of the Cross, after one of his visions.
12. Arms of Clement VII., who was Pope at the time of Saint Teresa's entrance
into the Incarnation, and who died in 1534. 13. Escutcheon carved above the door
of the church. 14. Escutcheon of (>ulomar de Ulloa, friend of Saint Teresa. 15.
Escutcheon of the Calced Carmelites. (See Appendix, note 5.)
CII. XIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 87
31. i have gone far away from the subject I began to
speak of ; but all is to the purpose for those who are beginners,
that they may begin a journey which is so high in such a
way as that they shall go on by the right road. Coming back,
then, to what I spoke of before,1 the meditation on Christ
bound to the pillar, it is \vell we should make reflections for
a time, and consider the sufferings He there endured, for
whom He endured them, who He is who endured them, and
the love with which He bore them. But a person should
not always fatigue himself in making these reflections, but
rather let him remain there with Christ, in the silence of
the understanding.
32. If he is able, let him employ himself in looking upon
Christ, who is looking upon him ; let him accompany Him,
and make his petitions to Him; let him humble himself, and
delight himself in Christ, and keep in mind that He never
deserved to be there. When he shall be able to do this,
though it may be in the beginning of his prayer, he will find
great advantage ; and this way of prayer brings great ad
vantages with it — at least, so my soul has found it. I do
not know whether I am describing it aright; you, my father,
will see to it. May our Lord grant me to please Him rightly
for ever! Amen.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE SECOND STATE OF PRAYER ITS SUPERNATURAL
CHARACTER.
1. HAVING spoken of the toilsome efforts and of the
strength required for watering the garden when we have
to draw the water out of the well, let us now speak of
the second manner of drawing the water, which the Lord
of the vineyard has ordained; of the machine of wheel and
buckets whereby the gardener may draw more water with
less labour, and be able to take some rest without being con
tinually at work. This, then, is what I am now going to
describe; and I apply it to the prayer called the prayer of
quiet.
88 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XIV.
2. Herein the soul begins to be recollected ; it is now
touching on the supernatural, — for it never could by any
efforts of its own attain to this. True, it seems at times to
have been wearied at the wheel, labouring with the under
standing, and filling the buckets ; but in this second degree
the water is higher, and accordingly the labour is much less
than it was when the water had to be drawn up out of the
well ; I mean, that the water is nearer to it, for grace reveals
itself more distinctly to the soul.
3. This is a gathering together of the faculties of the
soul within itself, in order that it may have the fruition of
that contentment in greater sweetness ; but the faculties are
not lost, neither are they asleep : the will alone is occupied
in such a way that, without knowing how it has become a
captive, it gives a simple consent to become the prisoner of
God ; for it knows well what it is to be the captive of Him
it loves. O my Jesus and my Lord, how pressing now is
Thy love i1 It binds our love in bonds so straitly, that it
is not in its power at this moment to love any thing else but
Thee.
4. The other two faculties help the will, that it may
render itself capable of the fruition of so great a good ; never
theless, it occasionally happens, even when the will is in
union, that they hinder it very much: but then it should
never heed them at all, simply abiding in its fruition and
quiet.2 For if it tried to make them recollected, it would
miss its way together with them, because they are at this time
like doves which are not satisfied with the food the master
of the dovecot gives them without any labouring for it on
their part, and which go forth in quest of it elsewhere, and
so hardly find it that they come back. And so the memory
and the understanding come and go, seeking whether the
will is going to give them that into the fruition of which it
has entered itself.
5. If it be our Lord's pleasure to throw them any food,
they stop ; if not, they go again to seek it. They must be
thinking that they are of some service to the will ; and now
and then the memory or the imagination, seeking to represent
1 2 Cor. v. 14.
2 See ch. xvii. § 12; Way of Perfection, ch. liii., but xxxi. of the
old editions.
CII. XIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 89
to it that of which it has the fruition, does it harm. The
will, therefore, should be careful to deal with them as I
shall explain. Every thing that takes place now in this state
brings the very greatest consolation ; and the labour is so
slight, that prayer, even if persevered in for some time, is
never wearisome. The reason is, that the understanding is
now working very gently, and is drawing very much more
water than it drew out of the well. The tears, .which God
now sends, flow with joy; though we feel them, they are
not the result of any efforts of our own.
6. This water of grand blessings and graces, which our
Lord now supplies, makes the virtues thrive much more,
beyond all comparison, than they did in the previous state
of prayer ; for the soul is already ascending out of its wretched
state, and some little knowledge of the blissfulness of glory
is communicated to it. This, I believe, is it that makes the
virtues grow the more, and also to draw nearer to essential
virtue, God Himself, from whom all virtues proceed ; for
His Majesty has begun to communicate Himself to this soul,
and will have it feel how He is communicating Himself.
7. As soon as the soul has arrived thus far, it begins
to lose the desire of earthly things :l and no wonder ; for it
sees clearly that, even for a moment, this joy is not to be
had on earth ; that there are no riches, no dominion, no
honours, no delights, that can for one instant, even for the
twinkling of an eye, minister such a joy; for it is a true
satisfaction, and the soul sees that it really does satisfy.
Now, we who are on earth, as it seems to me, scarcely ever
understand wherein our satisfaction lies, for it is always
liable to disappointment ; but in this, at that time, there is
none : the disappointment cometh afterwards, when the soul
sees that all is over, and that it has no power to recover it,
neither does it know how ; for if it cut itself in pieces by
penance and prayer, and every other kind of austerities, all
would be of little use, if our Lord did not grant it. God,
in His great mercy, will have the soul comprehend that His
Majesty is so near to it, that it need not send messengers
to Him, but may speak to Him itself, and not with a loud
crying, because so near is He already, that He understands
even the movements of its lips.
1 See Relation, I § 12.
90 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XIV.
8. It seems absurd to say this, seeing that we know
that God understands us always, and is present with us. It
is so, and there can be no doubt of it; but our Emperor and
Lord will have us now understand that He understands us;
and also have us understand what His presence bringeth
about, and that He means in a special way to begin a work
in the soul, which is manifested in the great joy, inward
and outward, which He communicates, and in the difference
there is, as I said just now, between this joy and delight
and all the joys of earth; for He seems to be filling up the
void in our souls occasioned by our sins.
9. This satisfaction lies in the innermost part of the
soul, and the soul knows not whence, nor how, it came ; very
often it knows not what to do, or wish, or pray for. It seems
to find all this at once, and knoweth not what it hath found ;
nor do I know how to explain it, because learning is neces
sary for many things. Here, indeed, learning would be very
much to the purpose, in order to explain the general and
particular helps of grace ; for there are many who know
nothing about them. Learning would serve to show how our
Lord now will have the soul to see, as it were, with the naked
eye, as men speak, this particular help of grace, and be also
useful in many other ways wherein I am likely to go astray.
But as what I write is to be seen by those who have the
learning to discover whether I make mistakes or not, I go
on without anxiety; for I know I need have none what
ever about either the letter or the spirit, because it is in
their power to whom it is to be sent to do with it as they
will : they will understand it, and blot out whatever may be
amiss.
10. I should like them to explain this, because it is a
principal point, and because a soul, when our Lord begins
to bestow these graces upon it, does not understand them,
and does not know what to do with itself; for if God leads
it by the way of fear, as He led me, its trial will be heavy
if there be no one who understands the state it is in; and to
see itself as in a picture is a great comfort ; and then it sees
clearly that it is travelling on that road. The knowledge
of what it has to do is a great blessing for it, so that it
may advance forwards in every one of these degrees of prayer ;
for I have suffered greatly, and lost much time, because I
did not know what to do ; and I am very sorry for those
CH. XIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 91
souls who find themselves alone when they come to this
state ; for though I read many spiritual books, wherein this
very matter is discussed, they threw very little light upon
it. And if it be not a soul much exercised in prayer, it will
find it enough to understand its state, be the books ever so
clear.
11. I wish much that our Lord would help me to de
scribe the effects on the soul of these things, now that they
begin to be supernatural, so that men might know by these
effects whether they come from the Spirit of God. I mean,
know as things are known here below, — though it is always
well to live in fear, and on our guard ; for even if they do
come from God, now and then the devil will be able to
tiansform himself into an angel of light;1 and the soul, if
not experienced herein, will not understand the matter ; and
it must have so much experience for the understanding
thereof, that it is necessary it should have attained to the
highest perfection of prayer.
12. The little time I have helps me but little, and it
is therefore necessary His Majesty should undertake it Him
self; for I have to live in community, and have very many
things to employ me, as I am in a house which is newly
founded, — as will appear hereafter;2 and so I am writing,
with very many interruptions, by little and little at a time.
I wish I had leisure ; for when our Lord gives the spirit, it
is more easily and better done ; it is then as with a person
working embroidery with the pattern before her; but if the
spirit be wanting, there is no more meaning in the words
than in gibberish, so to speak, though many years may have
been spent in prayer. And thus I think it a very great ad
vantage to be in this state of prayer when I am writing
this ; for I see clearly that it is not I who speak, nor is it
I who with her understanding has arranged it ; and after-
1 2 Cor. xi. 14.
2 See ch. x. § 11. As that passage refers probably to the monas
tery of the Incarnation, this must refer to that of S. Joseph, newly
founded in Avila; for that of the Incarnation was founded a short time
before the Saint was born; and she could hardly say of it, now that
she was at least in her forty-seventh year, that it was newly founded.
The house, however, was poor; for she says, ch. xxxii. § 12, that the
nuns occasionally quitted the monastery for a time, because of its
poverty.
92 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [cil. XIV.
wards I do not know how I came to speak so accurately.1
It has often happened to me thus.
13. Let us now return to our orchard, or flower-garden,
and behold now how the trees begin to fill with sap for the
bringing forth of the blossoms, and then of the fruit, — the
flowers and the plants, also, their fragrance. This illus
tration pleases me; for very often, when I was beginning,
— and our Lord grant that I have really begun to serve His
Majesty — I mean, begun in relation to what I have to say
of my life, — it was to me a great joy to consider my soul as
a garden, and our Lord as walking in it. I used to beseech
Him to increase the fragrance of the little flowers of virtues,
— which were beginning, as it seemed, to bud, — and pre
serve them, that they might be to His glory; for I desired
nothing for myself. I prayed Him to cut those He liked,
because I already knew that they would grow the better.
14. I say cut; for there are times in which the soul
has no recollection of this garden, — every thing seems parched,
and there is no water to be had for preserving it, — and in
which it seems as if the soul had never possessed any virtue
at all. This is the season of heavy trials; for our Lord will
have the poor gardener suppose all the trouble he took in
maintaining and watering the garden to have been taken
to no purpose. Then is the time really for weeding and
rooting out every plant, however small it may be, that is
worthless, in the knowledge that no efforts of ours are suffi
cient, if God withholds from us the waters of His grace ;
and in despising ourselves as being nothing, and even less
than nothing. In this way we gain great humility — the flowers
grow afresh.
15. O my Lord and my Good! I cannot utter these
words without tears, and rejoicing in my soul ; for Thou
wilt be thus with us, and art with us, in the Sacrament. We
1 See ch. xviii. § 12. In the second Report of the Rota, p. 477, —
quoted by Benedict XIV., De Canoniz. iii. 26, n. 12, and by the Bol-
landists in the Acta, 1315, — we have these words, and they throw great
light on the text: "Sunt et alii testes de visu affirmantes quod quando
beata Teresa scribebat Hbros, facies ejus resplendebat." In the infor
mation taken in Granada, the Mother Anne of the Incarnation says
she saw the Saint one night, while writing the Fortress of the Sonl,
with her face shining; and Mary of S. Francis deposes to the same
effect in the informations taken in Medina (De la Fnente vol ii pp
389, 392).
CH. XIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 93
may believe so most truly ; for so it is, and the comparison
I make is a great truth ; and, if our sins stand not in the way,
we may rejoice in Thee, because Thou rejoicest in us; for
Thou hast told us that Thy delight is to be with the children
of men.1 O my Lord, what does it mean? Whenever I
hear these words, they always give me great consolation,
and did so even when I was most wicked.
16. Is it possible, O Lord, that there can be a soul which,
after attaining to this state wherein Thou bestowest upon
it the like graces and consolations, and wherein it under
stands that Thou delightest to be with it, can yet fall back
and offend Thee after so many favours, and such great de
monstrations of the love Thou bearest it, and of which there
cannot be any doubt, because the effect of it is so visible?
Such a soul there certainly is ; for I have done so, not once, but
often. May it please Thy goodness, O Lord, that I may be
alone in my ingratitude — the only one who has committed
so great an iniquity, and whose ingratitude has been so im-
measureable ! But even out of my ingratitude Thine in
finite goodness has brought forth some good ; and the greater
my wickedness, the greater the splendour of the great mercy
of Thy compassions. Oh, what reasons have I to magnify
them for ever !
17. May it be so, I beseech Thee, O my God, and may
I sing of them for ever, now that Thou hast been pleased to
show mercies so great unto me that they who see them are
astonished, mercies which draw me out of myself continually,
that I may praise Thee more and more ! for, remaining in my
self, without Thee, I could do nothing, O my Lord, but be
as the withered flowers of the garden ; so that this miserable
earth of mine becomes a heap of refuse, as it was before.
Let it not be so, O Lord ! — let not a soul which Thou hast
purchased with so many labours be lost, one which Thou
hast so often ransomed anew, and delivered from between
the teeth of the hideous dragon !
18. You, my father, must forgive me for wandering from
the subject ; and, as I am speaking to the purpose I have
in view, you must not be surprised. What I write is what
my soul has understood; and it is very often hard enough
to abstain from the praises of God when, in the course of
1 Prov. viii. 31.
94 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [cii. XV.
writing, the great debt I owe Him presents itself before me.
Nor do I think that it can be disagreeable to you; because
both of us, I believe, may sing the same song, though in a
different way ; for my debt is much the greater, seeing that
God has forgiven me more, as you, my father, know.
CHAPTER XV.
INSTRUCTIONS FOR THOSE WHO HAVE ATTAINED TO THE PRAYER
OF QUIET MANY ADVANCE SO FAR, BUT FEW GO FARTHER.
1. LET us now go back to the subject. This quiet and
recollection of the soul makes itself in great measure felt
in the satisfaction and peace, attended with very great joy
and repose of the faculties, and most sweet delight, wherein
the soul is established.1 It thinks, because it has not gone
beyond it, that there is nothing further to wish for, but that
its abode might be there, and it would willingly say so
with S. Peter.2 It dares not move nor stir, because it thinks
that this blessing it has received must then escape out of
its hands ; now and then, it could wish it did not even breathe.3
The poor little soul is not aware that, as of itself it could
do nothing to draw down this blessing on itself, it is still
less able to retain it a moment longer than our Lord wills
it should remain.
2. I have already said that, in the prior recollection and
quiet,4 there is no failure of the powers of the soul ; but the
soul is so satisfied in God that, although two of its powers
be distracted, yet, while the recollection lasts, as the will
abides in union with God, so its peace and quiet are not
disturbed; on the contrary, the will by degrees brings the
understanding and the memory back again ; for though the
will is not yet altogether absorbed, it continues still occupied
without knowing how, so that, notwithstanding all the efforts
of the memory and the understanding, they cannot rob it
of its delight and joy,5— yea, rather, it helps without any
1 See Way of Perfection, ch. liii., but ch. xxxi. of the old edition.
2 S. Matt. xvii. 4. 3 See ch. xvii. § 8.
4 Ch. x. § 1. » Ch. xiv. §§ 3, 4.
CH. XV.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 95
labour at all to keep this little spark of the love of God from
being quenched.
3. Oh, that His Majesty would be gracious unto me, and
enable me to give a clear account of the matter; for many
are the souls who attain to this state, and few are they who
go farther: and I know not who is in fault; most certainly
it is not God; for when His Majesty showrs mercy unto a soul,
so that it advances so far, I believe that He will not fail to
be more merciful still, if there be no shortcomings on our
part.
4. And it is of great importance for the soul that has
advanced so far as this to understand the great dignity of
its state, the great grace given it by our Lord, and how in
all reason it should not belong to earth; because He, of His
goodness, seems to make it here a denizen of heaven, unless
it be itself in fault. And miserable will that soul be, if it
turns back; it will go down — I think so — even to the abyss,
as I was going myself, if the mercy of our Lord had not
brought me back; because, for the most part, it must be the
effect of grave faults— that is my opinion: nor is it possible
to forsake so great a good otherwise than through the blind
ness occasioned by much evil.
5. Therefore, for the love of our Lord, I implore those
souls to whom His Majesty has given so great a grace — the
attainment of this state — to know and make much of them
selves, with a humble and holy presumption, in order that
they may never return to the flesh-pots of Egypt. And if
through weakness and wickedness, and a mean and wretched
nature, they should fall, as I did, let them always keep in
mind the good they have lost; let them suspect and fear —
they have reason to do so — that, if they do not resume their
prayer, they may go on from bad to worse. I call that a
real fall which makes us hate the way by which so great a
good was obtained. I address myself to those souls ; but I
am not saying that they will never offend God, nor fall into
sin, — though there are good reasons why those who have
received these graces should keep themselves carefully from
sin ; but we are miserable creatures. What I earnestly advise
in this : let there be no giving up of prayer ; it is by prayer
they will understand what they are doing, and obtain from
our Lord the grace to repent, and strength to rise again ; they
must believe and believe again that, if they cease from pray-
96 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XV.
ing, they run — so I think — into danger. I know not if I
understand what I am saying; for, as I said before, I measure
others by myself.1
6. The prayer of quiet, then, is a little spark of the true
love of Himself, which our Lord begins to enkindle in the soul ;
and His will is, that the soul should understand what this love
is by the joy it brings. This quiet and recollection and little
spark, if it is the work of the Spirit of God, and not a sweet
ness supplied by Satan, or brought about by ourselves, pro
duces great results. A person of experience, however, cannot
possibly fail to understand at once that it is not a thing that
can be acquired, were it not that our nature is so greedy of
sweetness, that it seeks for it in every way. But it becomes
cold very soon ; for, however much we try to make the fire
burn, in order to obtain this sweetness, it does not appear that
we do any thing else but throw water on it, to put it out.
This spark, then, given of God, however slight it may be.
causes a great crackling; and if men do not quench it by their
faults, it is the beginning of the great fire, which sends forth —
I shall speak of it in the proper place2 — the flames of that
most vehement love of God which His Majesty will have
perfect souls to possess.
7. This little spark is a sign or pledge which God gives
to a soul, in token of His having chosen it for great things,
if it will prepare to receive them. It is a great gift, much too
great for me to be able to speak of it. It is a great sorrow
to me; because, as I said before,3 I know that many souls
come thus far, and that those who go farther, as they ought
to go, are so few, that I am ashamed to say it. I do not mean
that they are absolutely few : there must be many, because
God is patient with us, for some reasons; I speak of what I
have seen.
8. I should like much to recommend these souls to take
care that they do not hide their talent ; for it may be that God
has chosen them to be the edification of many others, espe
cially in these days, when the friends of God should be strong,
in order that they may support the weak. Those who discern
in themselves this grace, must look upon themselves as such
friends, if they would fulfill the law which even the honour-
1 Ch. x. § 11. 2 Ch. xviii. § 5, and ch. xxi. § 9.
3§ 3.
CH. XV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 97
able friendship of the world respects; if not, as I said just
now,1 let them fear and tremble, lest they should be doing
mischief to themselves — and God grant it be to themselves
only !
9. What the soul has to do at those seasons wherein it
is raised to the prayer of quiet is nothing more than to be
-gentle and without noise. By noise, I mean going about with
the understanding in search of words and reflections whereby
to give God thanks for this grace, and heaping up its sins
and imperfections together to show that it does not deserve
it. All this commotion takes place now, and the understand
ing conies forward, and the memory is restless, and certainly
to me these powers bring much weariness at times ; for though
my memory is not strong, I cannot control it. Let the will
quietly and wisely understand that it is not by dint of labour
on our part that we can converse to any good purpose with
God, and that our own efforts are only great logs of wood,
laid on without discretion to quench this little spark; and
let it confess this, and in humility say, O Lord, what can I
do here? what has the servant to do with her Lord, and
earth with heaven? or words of love that suggest themselves
now, firmly grounded in the conviction that what it says
is truth ; and let it make no account of the understanding,
which is simply tiresome.
10. And if the will wishes to communicate to the under
standing any portion of that the fruition of which itself has
entered on, or if it labours to make the understanding recol
lected, it shall not succeed; for it will often happen that the
will is in union and at rest, while the understanding is in
extreme disorder. It is better for it to leave it alone, and
not to run after it — I am speaking of the will for the will
should abide in the fruition of that grace, recollected itself,
like the prudent bee ; for if no bees entered the hive, and each
of them wandered abroad in search of the rest, the honey
would hardly be made. In the same way, the soul will lose
much if it be not careful now, especially if the understanding
be acute ; for when it begins to make reflections and search
for reasons, it will think at once that it is doing something
if its reasons and reflections are good.
11. The only reason that ought to be admitted now is to
understand clearly that there is no reason whatever except
1 §5.
98 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XV.
His mere goodness, why God should grant us so great a
grace, and to be aware that we are so near Him, and to
pray to His Majesty for mercies, to make intercession for
the Church, for those who have been recommended to us, and
for the souls in purgatory, — not, however, with noise of words,
but with a heartfelt desire to be heard. This is a prayer
that contains much, and by it more is obtained than by many
reflections of the understanding. Let the will stir up some of
those reasons, which proceed from reason itself, to quicken its
love, such as the fact of its being in a better state, and let it
make certain acts of love, as what it will do for Him to whom
it owes so much, — and that, as I said just now, without any
noise of the understanding, in the search after profound
reflections. A little straw, — and it will be less than straw, if
we bring it ourselves, — laid on with humility, will be more
effectual here, and will help to kindle the fire more than many
fagots of most learned reasons, which, in my opinion, will
put it out in a moment.
12. This is good for those learned men who have com
manded me to write,1 and who all, by the goodness of God,
have come to this state ; for it may be that they spend the
time in making applications of passages of the Scriptures.
And though learning could not fail to be of great use to
them, both before and after prayer, still, in the very time
of prayer itself, there is little necessity for it, in my opinion,
unless it be for the purpose of making the will tepid ; for the
understanding then, because of its nearness to the light, is it
self illuminated ; so that even I, who am what I am, seem to be
a different person. And so it is; for it has happened to me,
who scarcely understand a word of what I read in Latin, and
specially in the Psalms, when in the prayer of quiet, not
only to understand the Latin as if it were Spanish, but, still
more, to take a delight in dwelling on the meaning of that
I knew through the Spanish. We must make an exception:
if these learned men have to preach or to teach, they will do
well to take advantage of their learning, that they may help
poor people of little learning, of whom I am one. Charity
is a great thing; and so always is ministering unto souls,
when done simply for God.-
13. So, then, when the soul is in the prayer of quiet,
let it repose in its rest — let learning be put on one side.
1 Ch. x. § 12.
CH. XV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 99
The time will come when they may make use of it in the
service of our Lord — when they that possess it will appre
ciate it so highly as to be glad that they had not neglected
it even for all the treasures of the world, simply because
it enables them to serve His Majesty; for it is a great help.
But in the eyes of Infinite Wisdom, believe me, a little striv
ing after humility, and a single act thereof, are worth more
than all the science in the world. This is not the time for
discussing, but for understanding plainly what we are, and
presenting ourselves in simplicity before God, who will have
the soul make itself as a fool — as, indeed, it is — in His
presence, seeing that His Majesty so humbles Himself as to
suffer it to be near Him, we being what we are.
14. Moreover, the understanding bestirs itself to make
its thanksgiving in phrases well arranged; but the will, in
peace, not daring to lift up its eyes with the publican,1 makes
perhaps a better act of thanksgiving than the understanding,
with all the tropes of its rhetoric. In a word, mental prayer
is not to be abandoned altogether now, nor even vocal prayer,
if at any time we wish, or can, to make use of either of
them; for if the state of quiet be profound, it becomes diffi
cult to speak, and it can be done only with great pain.
15. I believe myself that we know whether this pro
ceeds from the Spirit of God, or is brought about by en
deavours of our own, in the commencement of devotion which
God gives ; and we seek of ourselves, as I said before,2 to
pass onwards to this quiet of the will. Then, no effect what
ever is produced; it is quickly over, and aridity is the re
sult. If it comes from Satan, the practised soul, in my opinion,
will detect it, because it leaves trouble behind, and scant
humility and poor dispositions for those effects which are
wrought if it comes from God; it leaves neither light in the
understanding nor steadiness in the truth.3
1 S. Luke xviii. 13.
* Ch. xii. § 5.
"Firmeza en la verdad." Francisco de S. Thomas, in his Medula
Mystica, p. 204, quoting this passage, has, "firmeza en la voluntad."
Philip, a SS. Trinitate, Theolog. Mystic, p. 354, and his Abbreviator,
Anton, a Sp. Sancto, Direct. Mystic tr. iv. disp. i. § 11, n. 94, seem also
to have preferred " voluntad" to " verdad"; for the words they use
are, "nee intellectui lux nee voluntati firmitas;" and, "defectus lucis in
intellectu, et firmitatis in vohmtate."
100 THE LIFE OF S TERESA. [<JH. XV.
16. Here Satan can do little or no harm, if the soul
directs unto God the joy and sweetness it then feels; and if
it fixes the thoughts and desires on Him, according to the
advice already given, the devil can gain nothing whatever —
on the contrary, by the permission of God, he will lose much
by that very joy which he causes in the soul, because that joy
will help the soul, inasmuch as it thinks the joy comes from
God, to betake itself often to prayer in its desire for it. And
if the soul is humble, indifferent to, and detached from, all
joy, however spiritual, and if it loves the cross, it will make
no account of the sweetness which Satan sends. But it cannot
so deal with that which comes from the Spirit of God; of
that it will make much. Now, when Satan sends it, as he
is nothing but a lie, and when he sees that the soul humbles
itself through that joy and sweetness, — and here, in all things
relating to prayer and sweetness, we must be very careful
to endeavour to make ourselves humble, — Satan will not
often repeat his work, when he sees that he loses by it.
17. For this and for many other reasons, when I was
speaking of the first degree of prayer, and of the first method
of drawing the water,1 I insisted upon it that the great affair
of souls is, when they begin to pray, to begin also to detach
themselves from even- kind of joy, and to enter on it re
solved only on helping to carry the cross of Christ like good
soldiers, willing to serve their King without present pay.
because they are sure of it at last, having their eyes directed
to the true and everlasting kingdom at the conquest of which
we are aiming.
18. It is a very great matter to have this always before
our eyes, especially in the beginning; afterwards, it becomes
so clear, that it is rather a matter of necessity to forget it,
in order to live on. Now, labouring to keep in mind that
all things here below are of short duration, that they are all
nothing, that the rest we have here is to be accounted as
none, — all this, I say, seems to be exceedingly lowr ; and so,
indeed, it is, — because those who have gone on to greater
perfection would look upon it as a reproach, and be ashamed
of themselves, if they thought that they were giving up the
goods of this world because they are perishable, or that
they would not be glad to give them up for God — even if
they were to last for ever. The greater the perfection of these
1 Ch. xi. § 16.
CH. XV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 1Q1
persons, the greater their joy, and the greater also would that
joy be if the duration of these worldly goods were greater.
19. In these persons, thus far advanced, love is already
grown, and love is that which does this work. But as to
beginners, to them it is of the utmost importance, and they
must not regard this consideration as unbecoming, for the
blessings to be gained are great, — and that is why I recom
mend it so much to them; for they wall have need of it — even
those who have attained to great heights of prayer — at cer
tain times, when God will try them, and when His Majesty
seems to have forsaken them.
20. I have said as much already, and I would not have
it forgotten,1 in this our life on earth, the growth of the soul
is not like that of the body. We, however, so speak of it
— and, in truth, it does grow. A youth that is grown up,
whose body is formed, and who is become a man, does not
ungrow, nor does his body lessen in size; but as to the soul,
it so is by our Lord's will, so far as I have seen it in my
own experience, — but I know nothing of it in any other way.
It must be in order to humble us for our greater good, and
to keep us from being careless during our exile; seeing that
he who has ascended the higher has the more reason to be
afraid, and to be less confident in himself. A time may come
when they whose will is so wrapt up in the will of God — and
who, rather than fall into a single imperfection, would undergo
torture and suffer a thousand deaths — will find it necessary,
if they would be delivered from offending God, and from the
commission of sin, to make use of the first armour of prayer,
to call to mind how every thing is coming to an end, that
there is a heaven and a hell, and to make use of other refkc-
tions of that nature, when they find themselves assailed by
temptations and persecutions.
21. Let us go back to what I was saying. The great
source of our deliverance from the cunning devices and the
sweetness which Satan sends is to begin with a resolution to
walk in the way of the Cross from the very first, and not to
desire any sweetness at all, seeing that our Lord Himself has
pointed out to us the way of perfection, saying, "Take up
thy cross and follow Me."2 He is our example; and who
soever follows His counsels only to please Him has nothing
to fear. In the improvement which they detect in them-
1 Ch. xiii. § 23. 2 S. Matt. xvi. 24.
c
10 J THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [dl. XV.
selves, they who do so will see that this is no work of Satan ;
and if they fall they have a sign of the presence of our Lord in
their rising again at once. They have other signs, also, of
which I am going to speak.
22. When it is the work of the Spirit of God, there is
no necessity for going about searching for reasons, on the
strength of which we may elicit acts of humility and of
shame, because our Lord Himself supplies them in a way
very different from that by which we could acquire them
by our own poor reflections, which are as nothing in com
parison with that real humility arising out of the light which
our Lord here gives us, and which begets a confusion of
face that undoes us. The knowledge with which God sup
plies us, in order that we may know that of ourselves we have
no good in us, is perfectly apprehended — and the more per
fectly, the greater the graces. It fills us with a great desire
of advancing in prayer, and of never giving it up, whatever
troubles may arise. The soul offers to suffer every thing.
A certain security, joined with humility and fear concerning
our salvation, casts out servile fear at once from the soul,
and in its place plants a loyal fear1 of more perfect growth.2
There is a visible beginning of a love of God, utterly divested
of all self-interest, together with a longing after seasons of
solitude, in order to obtain a greater fruition of this good.
23. In short, not to weary myself, it is the beginning
of all good ; the flowers have so thriven, that they are on
the point of budding. And this the soul sees most clearly,
and it is impossible to persuade it now that God was not
with it, till it turns back upon itself, and beholds its own
failings and imperfections. Then it fears for every thing;
and it is well it should do so — though there are souls whom
the certain conviction that God is with them benefits more
than all the fear they may ever have. If a soul love greatly,
and is thankful natural!}', the remembrance of the mercies
of God makes it turn towards Him more effectually than all
the chastisements of hell it can ever picture to itself — at
least, it was so with me, though I am so wicked.
24. As I shall speak at greater length of the signs of a
good spirit3 — it has cost me much labour to be clear about
them— I do not treat of them here. I believe, too, that, with
"Fiel temor." In the previous editions it was filial * Ch. xi. § 1.
8 See ch. xxv.
CH. XVI. J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 103
the help of God, I shall be able to speak somewhat to the
point, because — setting aside the experience I have had, and
by which I learned much — I have had the help of some most
learned men and persons of great holiness, whom we may
reasonably believe in the matter. Souls, therefore, are not to
weary themselves so much as I did, when, by the goodness of
our Lord, they may have come to this state.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE THIRD STATE OF PRAYER DEEP MATTERS WHAT THE
SOUL CAN DO THAT HAS REACHED IT EFFECTS OF THE
GREAT GRACES OF OUR LORD.
1. LET us now speak of the third water wherewith this
garden is watered, — water running from a river or from a
brook, — whereby the garden is wratered with very much less
trouble, although there is some in directing the water.1 In
this state our Lord will help the gardener, and in such a way
as to be, as it were, the Gardener Himself, doing all the work.
It is a sleep of the powers of the soul, which are not wholly
lost, not yet understanding how they are at work. The pleas
ure, sweetness, and delight are incomparably greater than in
the former state of prayer ; and the reason is, that the waters
of grace have risen up to the neck of the soul, so that it can
neither advance nor retreat — nor does it know how to do so ;
it seeks only the fruition of exceeding bliss. It is like a dying
man with the candle in his hand, on the point of dying the
death desired. It is rejoicing in this agony with unutterable
joy; to me it seems to be nothing else but a death, as ft were,
to all the things of this world, and a fruition of God. I know
of no other words whereby to describe it or to explain it;
neither does the soul then know what to do, — for it knows not
whether it should speak or be silent, whether it should laugh
or weep. It is a glorious folly, a heavenly madness, wherein
1 "The third degree, or third water, of the Saint must begin, I
think, with the prayer of infused recollection, include that of infused
quiet, and end in that of inebriation; because it is not in our power to
draw this water — all we can do is to direct the stream" (Francis, de
S. Thomas. Medula Mystica, tr. iv. ch. xii. p. 208).
104 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XVI.
true wisdom is acquired ; and to the soul a kind of fruition
most full of delight.1
2. It is now some five or six years, I believe, since our
Lord raised me to this state of prayer, in its fulness, and
that more than once, — and I never understood it, and never
could explain it; and so I was resolved, when I should
come thus far in my story, to say very little or nothing at all.
I knew well enough that it was not altogether the union of
all the faculties, and yet most certainly it was higher than
the previous state of prayer; but I confess that I could not
determine and understand the difference.
3. The humility of your reverence, willing to be helped
by a simplicity so great as mine, has been the cause, I be
lieve, why our Lord, to-day, after Communion, admitted me
to this state of pra}^er, without the power of going further,
and suggested to me these comparisons, and taught me how
to speak of it, and of what the soul must do therein. Cer
tainly, I wras amazed, and in a moment understood it all.
I have often been thus, as it were, beside myself, drunk with
love, and yet never could understand how it was. I knew
well that it was the work of God, but I never was able to
understand the manner of His working here ; for, in fact, the
faculties are almost all completely in union, yet not so ab
sorbed that they do not act. I have been singularly delighted
in that I have been able to comprehend the matter at last.
Blessed be our Lord, who has thus consoled me !
4. The faculties of the soul now retain only the powrer
of occupying themselves wholly with God ; not one of them
ventures to stir, neither can we move one of them without
making great efforts to distract ourselves — and, indeed, I do
not think we can do it at all at this time. Many words are
then uttered in praise of God — but disorderly, unless it be
that our Lord orders them Himself. At least, the understand
ing is utterly powerless here; the soul longs to send forth
words of praise, but it has no control over itself, — it is in a
state of sweet restlessness. The flowers are already opening;
they are beginning to send forth their fragrance.
5. The soul in this state would have all men behold it,
and know of its bliss, to the praise of God, and help it to
praise Him. It would have them to be partakers of its joy;
1 See S. John of the Cross, Spirit. Canticle, stanza xvii. vol. ii. p.
98, Engl. trans.
CH. XVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 105
for its joy is greater than it can bear. It seems to me that
it is like the woman in the Gospel, who would, or used to,
call in her neighbours.1 The admirable spirit of David, the
royal prophet, must have felt in the same way, so it seems
to me, when he played on the harp, singing the praises of
God. I have a very great devotion to this glorious king;2
and I wish all had it, particularly those who are sinners like
myself.
6. O my God, what must that soul be when it is in
this state? It wishes it were all tongue, in order that it may
praise our Lord. It utters a thousand holy follies, striving
continually to please Him by whom it is thus possessed. I
know one3 who, though she was no poet, yet composed, with
out any preparation, certain stanzas, full of feeling, most ex
pressive of her pain : they were not the work of her own
understanding; but, in order to have a greater fruition of
that bliss which so sweet a pain occasioned her, she com
plained of it in that way to God. She was willing to be
cut in pieces, soul and body, to show the delight she felt in
that pain. To what torments could she be then exposed, that
would not be delicious to endure for her Lord? She sees
clearly that the martyrs did little or nothing, so far as they
were concerned, when they endured their tortures, because the
soul is well aware that its strength is derived from another
source.
7. But what will be its sufferings when it returns to the
use of the senses, to live in the world, and go back to the
anxieties and the fashions thereof? I do not think that I
have exaggerated in any way, but rather have fallen short,
in speaking of that joy which our Lord, of His good pleas
ure, gives to the soul in this its exile. Blessed for ever
be Thou, O Lord! and may all created things praise Thee
for ever!
8. O my King, seeing that I am now, while writing this,
still under the power of this heavenly madness, an effect of
Thy mercy and goodness, — and it is a mercy I never deserved,
—grant, I beseech Thee, that all those with whom I may
have to converse may become mad through Thy love, or let
me converse with none, or so order it that I may have nothing
1 S. Luke xv. 9.
2 Foundations, ch. xxvii. § 16.
* The Saint herself (De la Fuente}.
106 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XVI.
to do in the world, or take me away from it. This Thy
servant, O my God, is no longer able to endure sufferings
so great as those are which she must bear when she sees
herself without Thee : if she must live, she seeks no repose
in this life, — and do Thou give her none. This my soul
longs to be free — eating is killing it, and sleep is wearisome ;
it sees itself wasting the time of this life in comforts, and that
there is no comfort for it now but in Thee ; it seems to be
living contrary to nature — for now, it desires to live not in
itself, but in Thee.
9. O my true Lord and my happiness! what a cross
hast Thou prepared for those who attain to this state ! —
light and most heavy at the same time : light, because sweet .
heavy, because now and then there is no patience left to
endure it, — and yet the soul never wishes to be delivered from
it, unless it be that it may come to Thee. When the soul
remembers that it has never served Thee at all, and that
by living on it may do Thee some service, it longs for a
still heavier cross, and never to die before the end of the
world. Its own repose it counts as nothing in comparison
with doing a slight service to Thee. It knows not what to
desire; but it clearly understands that it desires nothing else
but Thee.
10. O my son,1 — so humble is he to whom this writing
is directed, and who has commanded me to write, that he
suffers himself to be thus addressed, — you, my father, only
must see these things, in which I seem to have transgressed
all bounds; for no reason can keep me reasonable when our
Lord draws me out of myself. Since my communion this
morning,2 I do not believe that I am the person who is speak
ing; I seem to be dreaming the things I see, and I wish I
might never see any but people ill, as I am now. I beseech
you, my father, let us all be mad, for the love of Him who
for our sake suffered men to say of Him that He was mad.3
11. You, my father, say that you wish me well. I wish
you would prove it by disposing yourself so that God may
1 This was either F. Ibafiez or the Inquisitor Soto, if the expres
sion did not occur in the first Life. F. Dom. Banes struck out "son/'
and wrote "father" in its place, omitting the words, "so humble is he"
(De la Fucnte}.
2 See § 3, above.
3 S. John x. 20.
CH. XVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 107
bestow this grace upon you; for 1 see very few people who
have not too much sense for every thing they have to do:
and it may be that I have more than any body else. Your
reverence must not allow it; you are my father, for you
are my confessor, and the person to whom I have trusted
my soul ; disperse my delusions by telling the truth ; for
truths of this sort are very rarely told.
12. I wish we five, who now love one another in our
Lord, had made some such arrangement as this: as others
in these times have met together in secret1 to plot
wickedness and heresies against His Majesty, so we 'might
contrive to meet together now and then, in order to undeceive
one another, to tell each other wherein we might improve
ourselves, and be more pleasing unto God ; for there is no
one that knows himself as well as he is known of others
who see him, if it be with eyes of love and the wish to do him
good. I say, in secret; for language of this kind is no longer
in use; even preachers go about arranging their sermons so
as to displease no one.2 They have a good intention, and
their work is good; yet still few amend their lives. But how-
is it that they are not many who, in consequence of these
sermons, abstain from public sins? Well, I think it is because
the preachers are highly sensible men. They are not burning
with the great fire of the love of God, as the Apostles were,
casting worldly prudence aside; and so their fire throws out
but little heat. I do not say that their fire ought to burn like
that of the Apostles, but I do wish it were a stronger fire
than I see it is. Do you, my father, know wherein much of
this fire consists? In the hatred of this life, in the deser
tion of its honours, in being utterly indifferent whether we
lose or gain any thing or every thing, provided the truth be
told and maintained for the glory of God; for he who is
courageously in earnest for God, looks upon loss or gain
indifferently. I do not say that I am a person of this kind,
but I wish I was.
1 The Saint refers to the secret meetings of heretics in Valladolid,
under the direction of a fallen priest, the Doctor Agostino Cazalla,
whose vanity led him to imitate Luther. Some nuns in Valladolid
were imprisoned, Cazalla strangled, and his body burnt, in 1559
(De la Fitcufe).
- Father Banes wrote here on the margin of the Saint's MS. :
"Legant pnedicatores" (De la Fuente}.
108 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [cil. XVII.
13. Oh, grand freedom, to regard it as a captivity to
be obliged to live and converse with men according to the
laws of the world ! It is the gift of our Lord ; there is not
a slave who would not imperil every thing that he might
escape and return to his country ; and as this is the true
road, there is no reason why we should linger; for we shall
never effectually gain a treasure so great, so long as this life
is not ended. May our Lord give us His grace for that end !
You, my father, if it shall seem good to you, will tear up
what I have written, and consider it as a letter for yourself
alone, and forgive me that I have been very bold.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE THIRD STATE OF PRAYER THE EFFECTS THEREOF THE
HINDRANCE CAUSED BY THE IMAGINATION AND THE MEMORY.
1. ENOUGH has been said of this manner of prayer, and
of what the soul has to do, or rather, to speak more correctly,
of what God is doing within it ; for it is He who now
takes upon Himself the gardener's work, and who will have
the soul take its ease ; except that the will is consenting to
the graces, the fruition of which it has, and that it must resign
itself to all that the True Wisdom would accomplish in it
— for which it is certain it has need of courage ; because the
joy is so great, that the soul seems now and then to be on
the very point of going forth out of the body : and what a
blessed death that would be! Now I think, it is for the soul's
good — as you, my father, have been told — to abandon itself
into the arms of God altogether; if He wrill take it to heaven,
let it go; if to hell, no matter, as it is going thither with
its sovereign Good. If life is to come to an end for ever,
so it wills; if it is to last a thousand years, it wills that
also; His Majesty may do with it as with His own property,
— the soul no longer belongs to itself, it has been given wholly
to our Lord ; let it cast all care utterly away.
2. My meaning is that, in a state of prayer so high as
this, the soul understands that God is doing His work with
out any fatiguing1 of the understanding, except that, as it-
seems to me, it is as if amazed in beholding our Lord taking
CH. XVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 109
upon Himself the work of the good gardener, refusing to let
the soul undergo any labour whatever, but that of taking
its pleasure in the flowers beginning to send forth their fra
grance ; for when God raises a soul up to this state, it can
do all this, and much more, — for these are the effects of it.
3. In one of these visits, how brief soever it may be,
the Gardener, being who He is, — in a word, the Creator of
the water, — pours the water without stint; and what the
poor soul, with the labour, perhaps, of twenty years in fa
tiguing the understanding, could not bring about, that the
heavenly Gardener accomplishes in an instant, causing the
fruit both to grow and ripen; so that the soul, such being
the will of our Lord, may derive its sustenance from its garden.
But He allows it not to divide the fruit with others, until
by eating thereof it is strong enough not to waste it in the
mere tasting of it, — giving to Him none of the produce, nor
making any compensation for it to Him who supplies it, —
lest it should be maintaining others, feeding them at its own
cost, and itself perhaps dying of hunger.1 The meaning of
this is perfectly clear for those who have understanding
enough to apply it — much more clear than I can make it;
and I am tired.
4. Finally, the virtues are now stronger than they were
during the preceding prayer of quiet; for the soul sees itself
to be other than it was, and it knows not how it is beginning
to do great things in the odour which the flowrers send
forth; it being our Lord's will that the flowers should open,
in order that the soul may believe itself to be in possession
of virtue ; though it sees most clearly that it cannot, and
never could, acquire them in many years, and that the hea
venly Gardener has given them to it in that instant. Now,
too, the humility of the soul is much greater and deeper
than it was before ; because it sees more clearly that it did
neither much nor little, beyond' giving its consent that our
Lord might work those graces in it, and then accepting them
willingly.
5. This state of prayer seems to me to be a most distinct
union of the whole soul with God, but for this, that His
Majesty appears to give the faculties leave to be intent upon,
and have the fruition of, the great work He is doing then.
It happens at times, and indeed very often, that, the will
1 See ch. xix. § 5.
110 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XVII.
being in union, the soul should be aware of it, and see that
the will is a captive and in joy, that the will alone is abiding
in great peace, — while, on the other hand, the understanding
and the memory are so free, that they can be employed in
affairs and be occupied in works of charity. I say this, that
you, my father, may see it is so, and understand the matter
when it shall happen to yourself ; at least, it carried me out of
myself, and that is the reason why I speak of it here.
6. It differs from the prayer of quiet, of which I have
spoken,1 though it does seem as if it were all one with it.
In that prayer, the soul, which would willingly neither stir
nor move, is delighting in the holy repose of Mary ; but in
this prayer it can be like Martha also.2 Accordingly, the
soul is, as it were, living the active and contemplative life
at once, and is able to apply itself to works of charity and
the affairs of its state, and to spiritual reading. Still, those
who arrive at this state are not wholly masters of themselves,
and are well aware that the better part of the soul is else
where. It is as if Ave were speaking to one person, and
another speaking to us at the same time, while we ourselves
are not perfectly attentive either to the one or the other. It
is a state that is most easily ascertained, and one, when at
tained to, that ministers great joy and contentment, and that
prepares the soul in the highest degree, by observing times
of solitude, or of freedom from business, for the attainment
of the most tranquil quietude. It is like the life of a man
who is full, requiring no food, with his appetite satisfied, so
that he will not eat of every thing set before him, yet not
so full either as to refuse to eat if he saw any desirable food.
So the soul has no satisfaction in the world, and seeks no
pleasure in it then; because it has in itself that which gives
it a greater satisfaction, greater joys in God, longings for
the satisfaction of its longing to have a deeper joy in being
with Him — this is what the soul seeks.
7. There is another kind of union, which, though not
a perfect union, is yet more so than the one of which I
have just spoken ; but not so much so as this spoken of as the
third water. You, my father, will be delighted greatly if
1 Ch. xv. § 1.
2 See Relation, viii. § 6; and Way of Perfection, cb. liii., but cb. xxxi.
of former editions. See also Concept, of the Love of God, ch. vii.
CH. XVII. ] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. Ill
our Lord should bestow them all upon you, if you have them
not already, to find an account of the matter in writing, and
to understand it; for it is one grace that our Lord gives grace;
and it is another grace to understand what grace and what
gift it is ; and it is another and further grace to have the
power to describe and explain it to others. Though it does
not seem that more than the first of these — the giving of
the grace — is necessary to enable the soul to advance without
confusion and fear, and to walk with the greater courage
in the way of our Lord, trampling, under foot all the things
of this world, it is a great advantage and a great grace to
understand it ; for every one who has it has great reason
to praise our Lord; and so, also, has he who has it not: be
cause His Majesty has bestowed it upon some person living
who is to make us profit by it.
8. This union, of w^hich I would now speak, frequently
occurs, particularly to myself. God has very often bestowed
such a grace upon me, whereby He constrains the will, and
even the understanding, as it seems to me, seeing that it
makes no reflections, but is occupied in the fruition of God :
like a person who looks on, and sees so many things, that
he knows not where to look — one object puts another out
of sight, and none of them leaves any impression behind.
9. The memory remains free, and it must be so, together
with the imagination ; and so, when it finds itself alone, it
is marvellous to behold what war it makes on the soul,
and how it labours to throw every thing into disorder.
As for me, I am wearied by it, and I hate it ; and very often
do I implore our Lord to deprive me of it on these occasions,
if I am to be so much troubled by it. Now and then, I say
to Him : O my God, when shall my soul praise Thee without
distraction, not dissip.ated in this way, unable to control itself!
I understand now the mischief that sin has done, in that it
has rendered us unable to do what we desire — to be always
occupied in God.1
10. I say that it happens to me from time to time, —
it has done so this very day, and so I remember it well,
—to see my soul tear itself, in order to find itself there
where the greater part of it is, and to see, at the same time,
that it is impossible ; because the memory and the imagina
tion assail it with such force, that it cannot prevail against
1 See Relation, viii. § 17.
112 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XVII.
them; yet, as the other faculties give them no assistance,
they are not able to do it any harm — none whatever; they
do enough when they trouble its rest. When I say they
do no harm, my meaning is, that they cannot really hurt it,
because they have not strength enough, and because they
are too discursive. As the understanding gives no help,
neither much nor little, in the matters put before the soul,
they never rest any where, but hurry to and fro, like nothing
else but gnats at night, troublesome and unquiet : and so they
go about from one subject to another.
11. This comparison seems to me to be singularly to the
purpose ; for the memory and the imagination, though they
have no power to do any harm, are very . troublesome. I
know of no remedy for it; and, hitherto, God has told me
of none. If He had, most gladly would I make use of it;
for I am, as I say, tormented very often. This shows our
wretchedness, and brings out most distinctly the great power
of God, seeing that the faculty which is free hurts and wearies
us so much; while the others, occupied with His Majesty,
give us rest.
12. The only remedy I have found, after many years of
weariness, is that I spoke of when I was describing the
prayer of quiet :l to make no more account of it than of a
madman, but let it go with its subject; for God alone can
take it from it, — in short, it is a slave here. We must bear
patiently with it, as Jacob bore with Lia; for our Lord
showeth us mercy enough when we are allowed to have
Rachel with us.
13. I' say that it remains a slave; for, after all, let it
do what it will, it cannot drag the other faculties in its train ;
on the contrary, they, without taking any trouble, compel
it to follow after them. Sometimes God is pleased to take
pity upon it, when He sees it so lost and so unquiet, through
the longing it has to be united with the other faculties, and
His Majesty consents to its burning itself in the flame of
that divine candle by which the others are already reduced
to ashes, and their nature lost, being, as it were, supernatu-
rally in the fruition of blessings so great.
14. In all these states of prayer of which I have spoken,
while explaining this last method of drawing the water out
1 Ch. xiv. § 4. See also Way if Perfection, ch. liii., but ch. xxxi. of
the old editions.
AVILA— MONASTERY OF THF INCARNATION. II.
Hye Hoys, del
1. Saint Francis Borgia, who reassured Saint Teresa as to her visions.
2. Saint Peter of Alcantara, adviser of Saint Teresa. 3. Armchair in St. Thomas'
Church in which Saint Peter of Alcantara heard her confessions. 4. Distant view
of the monastery of Saint Thomas, Dominican, taken from the Promenade. 5. The
same monastery from the front. 6. Chapel of Christ Crucified in Saint Thomas'
Church where Saint Teresa went to confession. Scene of the vision of the necklace.
7. Wicket for communion in the lower choir of the monastery of the Incarnation.
8. Silver reliquary in the monastery of the Incarnation, containing a coif of Saint
Teresa. 9. Door of the Discalced Carmelite monastery "Of the Image," at
Brugep P.Raoux Sc
Alcala de Henares. 10. Basilica of Saint Vincent, where local tradition says Saint
Teresa unshod herself before the statue of Our Lady of the Catacombs. Lower down,
the church of Saint Andrew; in the distance, convent of Saint Francis, where Saint
Teresa's family were buried. 11. Drops of blood upon the wall of the cell which
Saint Teresa occupied as Prioress. 12. Escutcheon of the Society of Jesus.. 13. Es
cutcheon of Philip II., King- of Spain from 1555 to 1598. 14. Escutcheon of the
Dominican* of the province of Avila. 15. Escutcheons of the Reformed Franciscans
(Alcantarists.). (See Appendix, note 6.)
CH. XVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 11,$
of the well, so great is the bliss and repose of the soul, that
even the body most distinctly shares in its joy and delight,
— and this is most plain; and the virtues continue to grow,
as I said before.1 It seems to have been the good pleasure
of our Lord to explain these states of prayer, wherein the
soul finds itself, with the utmost clearness possible, I think,
here on earth.
15. Do you, my father, discuss it with any spiritual per
son who has arrived at this state, and is learned. If he
says of it, it is well, you may believe that God has spoken it,
and you will give thanks to His Majesty; for, as I said
just now,2 in the course of time you will rejoice greatly in
that you have understood it. Meanwhile, if He does not
allow you to understand what it is, though He does give you
the possession of it, yet, with your intellect and learning,
seeing that His Majesty has given you the first, you will
know what it is, by the help of what I have written here.
Unto Him be praise for ever and ever ! Amen.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FOURTH STATE OF PRAYER THE GREAT DIGNITY OF THE
SOUL RAISED TO IT BY OUR LORD ATTAINABLE ON EARTH,
NOT BY OUR MERIT, BUT BY THE GOODNESS OF OUR LORD.
1. MAY our Lord teach me words whereby I may in
some measure describe the fourth water.3 I have great need
of His help — even more than I had while speaking of the
last ; for in that the soul still feels that it is not dead alto
gether. We may thus speak, seeing that to the world it
is really dead. But, as I have said,4 it retains the sense to
see that it is in the world, and to feel its own loneliness ; and
it makes use of that which is outward for the purpose of
manifesting its feelings, at least by signs. In the whole of
the prayer already spoken of, and in all the states of it, the
gardener undergoes some labour; though in the later states
the labour is attended with so much bliss and comfort of the
1 Ch. xiv. § 6. 2 § 7. 8 See ch. xi. § 4.
4 Ch. xvi. §§ 5, 6.
114 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XVIII.
soul, that the soul would never willingly pass out of it, — and
thus the labour is not felt as labour, but as bliss.
2. In this the fourth state there is no sense of any
thing, only fruition, without understanding what that
is the fruition of which is granted. It is understood that the
fruition is of a certain good containing in itself all good
together at once ; but this good is not comprehended. The
senses are all occupied in this fruition in such a way that
not one of them is at liberty, so as to be able to attend to
any thing else, whether outward or inward.
3. The senses were permitted before, as I have said,1
to give some signs of the great joy they feel; but now, in
this state, the joy of the soul is incomparably greater, and
the power of showing it is still less ; for there is no power
in the body, and the soul has none, whereby this fruition
can be made known. Every thing of that kind would be a
great hindrance, a torment, and a disturbance of its rest.
And I say, if it really be a union of all the faculties, that
the soul, even if it wished, — I mean, when it is in union, —
cannot make it known; and if it can, then it is not union
at all.
4. How this, which we call union, is effected, and what
it is, I cannot tell. Mystical theology explains it, and I do
not know the terms of that science ; nor can I understand
what the mind is, nor how it differs from the soul or the
spirit either : all three seem to me but one ; though I do
know that the soul sometimes leaps forth out of itself, like a
fire that is burning and is become a flame ; and occasionally
this fire increases violently — the flame ascends high above
the fire; but it is not therefore a different thing: it is still
the same flame of the same fire. Your learning, my fathers,
will enable you to understand the matter ; I can go no further.
5. What I undertake to explain is that which the soul
feels when it is in the divine union. It is plain enough what
union is — two distinct things becoming one. O my Lord,
how good Thou art ! Blessed be Thou for ever, O my God !
Let all creatures praise Thee, who hast so loved us that we
can truly speak of this communication which Thou hast with
souls in this our exile! Yea, even if they be good souls, it
is on Thy part great munificence and magnanimity, — in a
word, it is Thy munificence, O my Lord, seeing that Thou
1 Ch. xvii. § 5.
CH. XVITl.j WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 115
givest like Thyself. O infinite Munificence! — how magnifi
cent are Thy works ! Even he whose understanding is not
occupied with the things of earth is amazed that he is unable
to understand these truths. Why, then, give graces so high
to souls who have been such great sinners? Truly, this
passeth my understanding; and when I come to think of it,
I can get no further. Is there an}- way at all for me to go
on which is not a going back? For, as to giving Thee thanks
for mercies so great, I know not how to do it. Sometimes
I relieve myself by giving utterance to follies. It often
happens to me, either when I receive these graces, or when
God is about to bestow them,— for, in the midst of them,
I have already said,1 I was able to do nothing, — that I would
break out into words like these :
6. O Lord, consider what Thou art doing; forget not
so soon the great evils that I have done. To forgive me,
Thou must already have forgotten them ; yet, in order that
there may be some limit to Thy graces, I beseech Thee re
member them. O my Creator, pour not a liquor so precious
into a vessel so broken ; for Thou hast already seen how on
other occasions I allowed it to run waste. Lay not up
treasure like this, where the longing after the consolations
of this life is not so mortified as it ought to be ; for it will
be utterly lost. How canst Thou commit the defence of the
city and the keys of its fortress to a commander so cowardly,
who at the first assault will let the enemy enter within? Oh,
let not Thy love be so great, O King Eternal, as to imperil
jewels so precious ! O my Lord, to me it seems that it be
comes a ground for undervaluing them, when Thou puttest
them in the power of one so wretched, so vile, so frail, so mis
erable, and so worthless as I am, who, though she may labour
not to lose them, by the help of Thy grace, — and I have
need of no little grace for that end, being what I am, — is not
able to win over any one to Thee, — in short, I am a woman,
not good, but wicked. It seems to me that the talents are
not only hidden, but buried, when they are committed to
earth so vile. It is not Thy wont, O Lord, to bestow graces
and mercies like these upon a soul, unless it be that it may
edify many.
7. Thou, O my God, knowest already that I beg this of
Thee with my whole will, from the bottom of my heart, and
1 §4.
116 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XVIII.
that I have done so more than once, and I account it a blessing
to lose the greatest blessings which may be had on earth,
if Thou wouldst but bestow these graces upon him who will
make a better use of them to the increase of Thy glory.
These, and expressions like these, it has happened to me
often to utter. I saw afterwards my own foolishness and
want of humility; for our Lord knoweth well what is ex
pedient, and that there is no strength in my soul to be saved,
if His Majesty did not give it with graces so great.
8. I purpose also to speak of the graces and effects which
abide in the soul, and of that which the soul itself can do,
or rather, if it can do any thing of itself towards attaining
to a state so high. The elevation of the spirit, or union,
comes together with heavenly love; but, as I understand it,
union is a different thing from elevation in union itself. To
him who may not have had any experience of the latter, it
must seem that it is not; and, according to my view of it,
even if they are both one, the operations of our Lord therein
are different: there is a growth of the soul's detachment
from creatures more abundantly still in the flight of the
spirit.1 I have clearly seen that this is a particular grace, —
though, as I say, it may be the same, or seem to be so, with
the other; but a little fire,, also, is as much fire as a great
fire, and yet there is a visible difference between them. Before
a small piece of iron is made red-hot in a little fire, some
time must pass ; but if the fire be great, the iron very quickly,
though bulky, loses its nature altogether in appearance.
9. So, it seems to me, is it with these two kinds of graces
which our Lord bestows. He who has had raptures will, I
am sure, understand it well ; to him who has not had that
experience, it must appear folly. And, indeed, it may well
be so ; for if a person like myself should speak of a matter of
this kind, and give any explanation at all of that for the
description of which no words even can possibly be found,
it is not to be wondered at that I may be speaking foolishly.
10. But I have this confidence in our Lord, that He will
help me here; for His majesty knoweth that my object in
writing — the first is to obey — is to inspire souls with a longing
after so high a good. I will speak of nothing that I do not
know by great experience : and so, when I began to describe
the last kind of water, I thought it more impossible for me to
1 See ch. xx. § 10; and Relation, viii. § 11.
CH. XVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 117
speak of it at all than to speak Greek. It is a very difficult
matter; so I left it and went to Communion. Blessed be our
Lord, who is merciful to the ignorant ! Oh, virtue of obe
dience ! it can do every thing! God enlightened my under
standing — at one time suggesting the words, at another show
ing me how to use them ; for, as in the preceding state of
prayer, so also now, His Majesty seems to utter what I can
neither speak nor understand.1
11. What I am saying is the simple truth; and therefore
whatever is good herein is His teaching; what is erroneous,
clearly comes out of that sea of evil — myself. If there be
any — and there must be many — who, having attained to these
states of prayer whereunto our Lord in His mercy has brought
me — wretch that I am ! — and who, thinking they have missed
their way, desire to treat of these matters with me, I am sure
that our Lord will help His servant to declare the truth
more plainly.
12. I am now speaking of the water which cometh down
from heaven to fill and saturate in its abundance the whole
of this garden with water. If our Lord never ceased to pour
it down whenever it was- necessary, the gardener certainly
would have plenty of rest ; and if there were no winter, but
an ever temperate season, fruits and flowers would never fail.
The gardener would have his delight therein; but in this
life that is impossible. We must always be careful, when
one water fails, to obtain another. This water from heaven
comes down very often when the gardener least expects it.
13. The truth is that, in the beginning, this almost always
happens after much mental prayer. Our Lord advances step
by step to lay hold of the little bird, and to lay it in the nest
where it may repose. He observed it fluttering for a long
time, striving with the understanding and the will, and with
all its might, to seek God and to please Him; so now it is
His pleasure to reward it even in this life. And what a
reward ! — one moment is enough to repay all the possible
trials of this life.
14. The soul, while' thus seeking after God, is conscious,
with a joy excessive and sweet, that it is, as it were, utterly
fainting away in a kind of trance: breathing, and all the
bodily strength, fail it, so that it cannot even move the hands
without great pain ; the eyes close involuntarily, and if they
1 See ch. xiv. 8 12.
118 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [cH. XVIII.
are open, they are as if they saw nothing; nor is reading
possible, — the very letters seem strange, and cannot be dis
tinguished, — the letters, indeed, are visible, but, as the under
standing furnishes no help, all reading is impracticable,
although seriously attempted. The ear hears; but what is
heard is not comprehended. The senses are of no use what
ever, except to hinder the soul's fruition; and so they rather
hurt it. It is useless to try to speak, because it is not possible
to conceive a word ; nor, if it were conceived, is there strength
sufficient to utter it; for all bodily strength vanishes, and that
of the soul increases, to enable it the better to have the fruition
of its joy. Great and most perceptible, also, is the outward
joy now felt.
15. This prayer, however long it may last, does no harm
• — at least, it has never done any to me ; nor do I remember,
however ill I might have been when our Lord had mercy upon
me in this way, that I ever felt the worse for it — on the
contrary, I was always better afterwards. But so great a
blessing, what harm can it do? The outward effects are so
plain as to leave no doubt possible that there must have been
some great cause, seeing that it thus robs us of our bodily
powers with so much joy, in order to leave them greater.
16. The truth is, it passes away so quickly in the begin
ning — at least, so it was with me — that neither by the outward
signs, nor by the failure of the senses, can it be perceived
when it passes so quickly away. But it is plain, from the
overflowing abundance of grace, that the brightness of the
sun which had shone there must have been great, seeing that
it has thus made the soul to melt away. And this is to be
considered ; for, as it seems to me, the period of time, however
long it may have been, during which the faculties of the
soul were entranced, is very short : if half an hour, that would
be a long time. I do not think that I have ever been so long.1
The truth of the matter is this : it is extremely difficult to know-
how long, because the senses are in suspense ; but I think
that at any time it cannot be very long before some one of the
faculties recovers itself. It is the will that persists in the
work; the other two faculties quickly begin to molest it.
As the will is calm, it entrances them again ; they are quiet
for another moment, and then they recover themselves once
more.
1 See Anton, a Sp. Sancto, Director. Mystic, tr. iv. § 9, n. 72.
CH. XVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 119
17. In this way, some hours may be, and are, passed in
prayer; for when the two faculties begin to drink deep, and
to perceive the taste of this divine wine, they give themselves
up with great readiness, in order to be the more absorbed :
they follow the will, and the three rejoice together. But this
state of complete absorption, together with the utter rest
of the imagination, — for I believe that even the imagination
is then wholly at rest, — lasts only for a short time ; though
the faculties do not so completely recover themselves as not
to be for some hours afterwards as if in disorder; God, from
time to time, drawing them to Himself.
18. Let us now come to that which the soul feels inter
iorly. Let him describe it who knows it ; for as it is impossible
to understand it, much more is it so to describe it. When I
purposed to write this, I had just communicated, and had
risen from the very prayer of which I am speaking. I was
thinking of what the soul was then doing. Our Lord said
to me: It undoes itself utterly, My daughter, in order that it
may give itself more and more to Me : it is not itself that then
lives, it is I. As it cannot comprehend what it understands,
it understands by not understanding.1
19. He who has had experience of this will understand
it in some measure, for it cannot be more clearly described,
because what then takes place is so obscure. All I am able
to say is, that the soul is represented as being close to God ;
and that there abides a conviction thereof so certain and
strong, that it cannot possibly help believing so. All the
faculties fail now, and are suspended in such a way that, as I
said before,2 their operations cannot be traced. If the soul is
1 Thomas a Jesu, De Contemplatione Divina, lib. v. c. xiii.: "Quasi
dicat: Cum intellectus non possit Dei immensam illam claritatem et in-
comprehensibilem plenitudinem comprehendere, hoc ipsum est illam
conspicere ac intelligere, intelligere se non posse intellectu cognos-
cere: quod quidem nihil aliud est quam Deum sub ratione incompre-
hensibilitatis videre ac cognoscere."
Philip, a SS. Trinitate, Theolog. Mystic. Disc. Proem, art. iv. p. 6:
"Cum ipsa [S. Teresa] scire vellet, quid in ilia mystica unione opera-
retur intellectus, respondit [Christus] illi, cum non possit comprehen
dere quod intelligit, est non intelligere intelligendo: turn quia prre
claritate nimia quodammodo offuscatur intellectus, uncle prre altissima
et supereminentissima Dei cognitione videtur anima potius Deum
ignorare quam cognoscere."
2 Ch. x. § 1, and ch. xviii. § 16.
120 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XIX.
making a meditation on any subject, the memory of it is lost
at once, just as if it had never been thought of. If it reads,
what is read is not remembered nor dwelt upon; neither is it
otherwise with vocal prayer. Accordingly, the restless little
butterfly of the memory has its wings burnt now, and it cannot
fly. The will must be fully occupied in loving, but it under
stands not how it loves ; the understanding, if it understands,
does not understand how it understands — at least, it can com
prehend nothing of that it understands : it does not under
stand, as it seems to me, because, as I said just now, this can
not be understood. I do not understand it at all myself.
20. In the beginning, it happened to me that I was
ignorant of one thing — I did not know that God is in all
things r1 and when He seemed to me to be so near, I thought
it impossible. Not to believe that He was present, was not
in my power; for it seemed to me, as it were, evident that I
felt there His very presence. Some unlearned men used to
say to me, that He was present only by His grace. I could
not believe that, because, as I am saying, He seemed to me to
be present Himself: so I was distressed. A most learned
man, of the Order of the glorious Patriarch S. Dominic,
delivered me from this doubt; for he told me that He was
present, and how He communed with us : this was a great
comfort to me.
21. It is to be observed and understood that this water
from heaven, — this greatest grace of our Lord, — always leaves
in the soul the greatest fruits, as I shall now show.
CHAPTER XIX.
TILE EFFECTS OF THIS FOURTH STATE OF PRAYER EARNEST
EXHORTATIONS TO THOSE WHO HAVE ATTAINED TO IT NOT
TO GO BACK, NOR TO CEASE FROM PRAYER, EVEN IF THEY
FALL THE GREAT CALAMITY OF GOING BACK.
1. THERE remains in the soul, when the prayer of union
is over, an exceedingly great tenderness ; so much so, that it
would undo itself — not from pain, but through tears of joy:
it finds itself bathed therein, without being aware of it, and it
1 See Inner Fortress, v. ch. i. § 11.
CH. XIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 121
knows not how or when it wept them. But to behold the
violence of the fire subdued by the water, which yet makes
it burn the more, gives it great delight. It seems as if I were
speaking an unknown language. So it is, however.
2. It has happened to me occasionally, when this prayer
was over, to be so beside myself as not to know whether I had
been dreaming, or whether the bliss I felt had really been
mine ; and, on finding myself in a flood of tears — which had
painlessly flowed, with such violence and rapidity that it
seemed as if a cloud from heaven1 had shed them — to perceive
that it was no dream. Thus it was with me in the beginning,
when it passed quickly away. The soul remains possessed of
so much courage, that if it were nowr hewn in pieces for God, it
would be a great consolation to it. This is the time of resolu
tions, of heroic determinations, of the living energy of good
desires, of the beginning of hatred of the world, and of the
most clear perception of its vanity. The soul makes greater and
higher progress than it ever made before in the previous states
of prayer; and grows in humility more and more, because it
sees clearly that neither for obtaining nor for retaining this
grace, great beyond all measure, has it ever done, or ever been
able to do, any thing of itself. It looks upon itself as most un
worthy — for in a room into which the sunlight enters strongly,
not a cobweb can be hid ; it sees its own misery ; self-conceit
is so far away, that it seems as if it never could have had any
• — for now its own eyes behold how very little it could ever do,
or, rather, that it never did any thing, that it hardly
gave even its own consent, but that it rather seemed as if the
doors of the senses were closed against its will, in order that it
might have more abundantly the fruition of our Lord. It is
abiding alone with Him : what has it to do but to love Him ? It
neither sees nor hears, unless on compulsion : no thanks to it.
Its past life stands before it then, together with the great
mercy of God, in great distinctness ; and it is not necessary for
it to go forth to hunt with the understanding, because what it
has to eat and ruminate upon, it sees now ready prepared. It
sees, so far as itself is concerned, that it has deserved hell, and
that its punishment is bliss. It undoes itself in the praises of
God, and I would gladly undo myself now.
3. Blessed be Thou, O my Lord, who, out of a pool so
filthy as I am, bringest forth water so clean as to be meet for
1 See ch. xx. § 2.
122 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XIX
Thy table ! Praised be Thou, O Joy of the Angels, who hast
been thus pleased to exalt so vile a worm!
4. The good effects of this prayer abide in the soul for
some time. Now that it clearly apprehends that the fruit is
not its own, the soul can begin to share it with others, and
that without any loss to itself. It begins to show signs of
its being a soul that is guarding the treasures of heaven, and
to be desirous of communicating them to others,1 and to pray
to God that itself may not be the only soul that is rich in
them. It begins to benefit its neighbours, as it were, without
being aware of it, or doing any thing consciously: its neigh
bours understand the matter, because the odour of the flowers
has grown so strong as to make them eager to approach
them. They understand that this soul is full of virtue ; they
see the fruit, how delicious it is, and they wish to help that
soul to eat it.
5. If this ground be well dug by troubles, by persecu
tions, detractions, and infirmities, — they are few who ascend
so high without this, — if it be well broken up by great detach
ment from all self-interest, it will drink in so much water that
it can hardly ever be parched again. But if it be ground
which is mere waste, and covered with thorns (as I was when
I began) ; if the occasions of sin be not avoided ; if it be an
ungrateful soil, unfitted for so great a grace, — it will be
parched up again. If the gardener become careless, — and if
our Lord, out of His mere goodness, will not send down rain
upon it, — the garden is ruined. Thus has it been with me
more than once, so that I am amazed at it; and if I had not
found it so by experience, I could not have believed it.
6. I write this for the comfort of souls which are weak, as
I am, that they may never despair, nor cease to trust in the
power of God ; even if they should fall after our Lord has
raised them to so high a degree of prayer as this is, they
must not be discouraged, unless they would lose themselves
utterly. Tears gain every thing, and one drop of water
attracts another.
7. One of the reasons that move me, who am what I am,
under obedience to write this, and give an account of my
wretched life, and of the graces our Lord has wrought in me, —
though I never served Him, but offended Him rather — is
what I have just given : and, certainly, I wish I was a person
1 See ch. xvii. § 4.
CH. XIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 123
of great authority, that people might believe what I say. I
pray to our Lord that His Majesty would be pleased to grant
me this grace. I repeat it, let no one who has begun to give
himself to prayer be discouraged, and say : If I fall into sin,
it will be worse for me if I go on now with the practice of
prayer. I think so too, if he gives up prayer, and does not
correct his evil ways ; but if he does not give up prayer, let
him be assured of this — prayer will bring him to the haven
of light.
8. In this the devil turned his batteries against me, and
I suffered so much because I thought it showed but little
humility if I perserved in prayer when I was so wicked, that
— as I have already said1 — I gave it up for a year and a half —
at least, for a year, but I do not remember distinctly the other
six months. This could not have been, neither was it, any
thing else but to throw myself down into hell ; there was no
need of any devils to drag me thither. O my God, was there
ever blindness so great as this? How well Satan prepares his
measures for his purpose, when he pursues us in this way !
The traitor knows that he has already lost that soul which
perseveres in prayer, and that every fall which he can bring-
about helps it, by the goodness of God, to make greater
progress in His service. Satan has some interest in this.
9. O my Jesus, what a sight that must be — a soul so
highly exalted falling into sin, and raised up again by Thee;
who, in Thy mercy, stretchest forth Thine hand to save !
How such a soul confesses Thy greatness and compassion,
and its own wrretchedness ! It really looks on itself as noth
ingness, and confesses Thy power. It dares not lift up its
eyes; it raises them, indeed, but it is to acknowledge how
much it oweth unto Thee. It becomes devout to the Queen of
Heaven, that she may propitiate Thee ; it invokes the Saints,
who fell after Thou hadst called them, for succour. Thou
seemest now to be too bountiful in Thy gifts, because it feels
itself to be unworthy of the earth it treads on. It has recourse
to the Sacraments, to a quickened faith, which abides in it
at the contemplation of the power which Thou hast lodged
in them. It praises Thee because Thou hast left us such
medicines and ointment for our wounds, which not only heal
them on the surface, but remove all traces whatever of them.
1 Cb. vii. § 17, and ch. viii. § 6.
124 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [cii. XIX.
10. The soul is amazed at it. Who is there, O Lord of
my soul, that is not amazed at compassion so great and mercy
so surpassing, after treason so foul and so hateful? I know
not how it is that my heart does not break when I write this,
for I am wicked. With these scanty tears which I am now
weeping, but yet Thy gift, — water out of a well, so far as it
is mine, so impure, — I seem to make Thee some recompense
for treachery so great as mine, in that I was always doing
evil, labouring to make void the graces Thou hast given me.
Do Thou, O Lord, make my tears available; purify the water
which is so muddy; at least, let me not be to others a tempta
tion to rash judgments, as I have been to myself, when I used
to think such thoughts as these. Why, O Lord, dost Thou
pass by most holy persons, who have always served Thee, and
who have been tried ; who have been brought up in religion,
and are really religious — not such as I am, having only the
name — so as to make it plain that they are not recipients of
those graces which Thou hast bestowed upon me?
11. I see clearly now, O Thou my Good, Thou hast kept
the reward to give it them all at once : my weakness has need
of these succours. They, being strong, serve Thee without
them, and Thou dealest with them as with a strong race,
free from all self-interest. But yet Thou knowest, O my
Lord, that I have often cried unto Thee, making excuses for
those who murmured against me ; for I thought they had
reason on their side. This I did then when Thou of Thy
goodness hadst kept me back from offending Thee so much,
and when I Avas departing from every thing which I thought
displeasing unto Thee. It was when I did this that Thou, O
Lord, didst begin to lay open Thy treasures for Thy servant.
It seemed as if Thou \vert looking for nothing else but that I
should be willing and ready to receive them ; accordingly,
Thou didst begin at once, not only to give them, but also to
make others know that Thou wert giving them.
12. When this was known, there began to prevail a good
opinion of her, of whom all had not yet clearly understood
how wicked she was, though much of that wickedness was
plain enough. Calumny and persecution began at once, and,
as I think, with good reason ; so I looked on none of them as
an enemy, but made my supplications to Thee, imploring
Thee to consider the grounds they had. They said that I
wished to be a saint, and that I invented novelties ; but I had
CH. XIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 125
not then attained in many things even to the observance of my
rule ; nor had I come near those excellent and holy nuns who
were in the house, — and I do not believe 1 ever shall, if God
of His goodness will not do that for me Himself; on the
contrary, I was there only to do away with what was good,
and introduce customs which were not good ; at least, I did
what I could to bring them in, and I was very powerful for
evil. Thus it was that they were blameless, when they
blamed me. I do not mean the nuns only, but the others as
well : they told me truths ; for it was Thy will.
13. I was once saying the Office, — I had had this tempta
tion for some time, — and when I came to these words, "Justus
es, Domine, et rectum judicium tuum."1 I began to think what
a deep truth it was. Satan never was strong enough to tempt
me in any way to doubt of Thy goodness, nor of any article
of the faith : on the contrary, it seems to me that the more
these truths were above nature, the more firmly I held them,
and my devotion grew ; when I thought of Thy omnipotence,
I accepted all Thy wonderful works, and, I say it again, I
never had a doubt. Then, as I was thinking how it could be
just in Thee to allow so many, who, as I said, are Thy most
faithful servants, to remain without those consolations and
graces which Thou hast given to me, who am what I am,
Thou, O my Lord, didst answer me: Serve thou Me, and
meddle not with this.
14. This was the first word which I ever heard Thee
speak to me, and it made me greatly afraid. But as I shall
speak hereafter2 of this way of hearing, and of other matters,
I say nothing here ; for to do so would be to .digress from my
subject, and - I have already made digressions enough. I
scarcely knowr what I have said, nor can it be otherwise ; but
you, my father, must bear with these interruptions ; for when
I consider what God must have borne with from me, and
when I see the state I am in, it is not strange that I should
wander in what I am saying, and what I have still to say.
15. May it please our Lord that my wanderings may be
of this kind, and may His Majesty never suffer me to have
strength to resist Him even in the least; yea, rather than that,
may He destroy me this moment. It is evidence enough of
His great compassions, that He has forgiven so much in
gratitude, not once, but often. He forgave S. Peter once;
1 Ps. cxviii. 137. * See ch. xxv.
126 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XIX.
but I have been forgiven many times. Satan had good reasons
for tempting me : I ought never to have pretended to a strict
friendship with One, my hatred of whom I made so public.
Was there ever blindness so great as mine? Where could I
think I should find help but in Thee? What folly to run
away from the light, to be for ever stumbling! What a
proud humility was that which Satan devised for me, when
I ceased to lean upon the pillar, and threw the staff away
which supported me, in order that my fall might not be great I1
16. I make the sign of the cross this moment. I do not
think I ever escaped so great a danger as this device of Satan,
which he would have imposed upon me in the disguise of hu
mility.2 He filled me with such thoughts as these : How could
I make my prayer, who was so wicked, and yet had received so
many mercies? It was enough for me to recite the Office, as all
others did; but as I did not that much well, how could I
desire to do more? I was not reverential enough, and made
too little of the mercies of God. There was no harm in these
thoughts and feelings in themselves; but to act upon them,
that was an exceedingly great wickedness. Blessed be Thou,
0 Lord; for Thou earnest to my help. This seems to me to
be in principle the temptation of Judas, only that Satan did
not dare to tempt me so openly. But he might have led me
by little and little, as he led Judas, to the same pit of
destruction.
17. Let all those who give themselves to praye^ for the
love of God, look well to this. They should know that when
1 was neglecting it, my life was much worse tLan it had ever
been; let them reflect on the excellent help a:id the pleasant
humility which Satan provided for me : it was a grave interior
disquietude. But how could my spirit be quiet? It was
going away in its misery from its true rest. I remembered the
graces and mercies I had received, and felt that the joys of
this world were loathsome. I am astonished that I was able
to bear it. It must have been the hope I had; for, as well as
I can remember now, it is more than twenty-one years ago.
I do not think I ever gave up my purpose of resuming my
prayer; but I was waiting to be very free from sin first.
18. Oh, how deluded I was in this expectation ! The
devil would have held it out before me till the day of judg
ment, that he might then take me with him to hell. Then,
1 See ch. viii. § 1. 2 Ch. vii. § 17.
CH. XIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 127
when I applied myself to prayer and to spiritual reading, —
whereby I might perceive these truths, and the evil nature of
the way I was walking in, and was often importunate with
our Lord in tears, — I was so wicked, that it availed me noth
ing ; when I gave that up, and wasted my time in amusing my
self, in great danger of falling into sin, and with scanty helps,
— and I may venture to say no help at all, unless it was a help
to my ruin, — what could I expect but that of which I have
spoken?
19. I believe that a certain Dominican friar, a most
learned man, has greatly merited in the eyes of God ; for it
was he who roused me from this slumber. He made me
—I think I said so before1 — go to Communion once a fort
night, and be less given to evil ; I began to be converted,
though I did not cease to offend our Lord all at once: how
ever, as I had not lost my way, I walked on in it, though
slowly, falling and rising again ; and he who does not cease
to walk and press onwards, arrives at last, even if late.
To lose one's way is — so it seems to me — nothing else but
the giving up of prayer. God, of His mercy, keep us from
this !
20. It is clear from this, — and, for the love of God, con
sider it well, — that a soul, though it may receive great graces
from God in prayer, must never rely on itself, because it may
fall, nor expose itself in any way whatever to any risks of
sin. This should be well considered, because much depends
on it; for the delusion here, wherein Satan is able to en
tangle us afterwards, though the grace be really from God,
lies in the traitor's making use of that very grace, so far as
he can, for his own purpose, and particularly against per
sons not grown strong in virtues, who are neither mortified
nor detached ; for these are not at present strong enough
— as I shall explain hereafter2 — to expose themselves to
dangerous occasions, notwithstanding the noble desires and
resolutions they may have.
21. This doctrine is excellent, and not mine, but the
teaching of God, and accordingly I wish ignorant people
like myself knew it ; for even if a soul were in this state,
it must not rely so much upon itself as to go forth to the
battle, because it will have enough to do in defending itself.
Defensive armour is the present necessity ; the soul is not
1 Ch. vii. § 27. - Ch. xxxi. § 21.
128 THE LIFE OF S TERESA. [CH. XIX.
yet strong enough to assail Satan, and to trample him under
foot, as those are who are in the state of which I shall speak
further on.1
22. This is the delusion by which Satan prevails: when
a soul sees itself so near unto God, when it sees the difference
there is between the things of heaven and those of earth,
and when it sees the love which our Lord bears it, there
grows out of that love a certain trust and confidence that
there is to be no falling away from that the fruition of
which it then possesses. It seems to see the reward dis
tinctly, as if it were impossible for it to abandon that which,
even in this life, is so delicious and sweet, for any thing so
mean and impure as worldly joy. Through this confidence,
Satan robs it of that distrust which it ought to have in itself ;
and so, as I have just said,2 the soul exposes itself to dangers,
and begins, in the fulness of its zeal, to give away without
discretion the fruit of its garden, thinking that now it has
no reason to be afraid for itself. Yet this does not come
out of pride ; for the soul clearly understands that of itself
it can do no good thing; but rather out of an excessive
confidence in God, without discretion: because the soul does
not see itself to be unfledged. It can go forth out of its
nest, and God Himself may take it out, but still it cannot
fly, because the virtues are not strong, and itself has no
experience wherewith to discern the dangers ; nor is it aware
of the evil which trusting to itself may do it.
23. This it was that ruined me. Now, to understand
this, and every thing else in the spiritual life, we have great
need of a director, and of conference with spiritual persons.
I fully believe, with respect to that soul which God raises
to this state, that He will not cease to be gracious to it,
nor suffer it to be lost, if it does not utterly forsake His
Majesty. But when that soul — as I said — falls, let it look
to it again and again, for the love of our Lord, that Satan
deceive it not by tempting it to give up prayer, as he tempted
me, through that false humility of which I have spoken before,3
and would gladly speak of again and again. Let it rely on
the goodness of God, which is greater than all the evil we
can do. When we, acknowledging our own vileness, desire
to return into His grace, He remembers our ingratitude no
1 Ch. xx. § 33, and ch. xxv. § 24. * Ch. xvii. § 4.
s See § 16.
FIRST FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF ST. JOSEPH AT AVILA.
Hoys-, del
1. Father Juan Battisto Rubeo (Rossi). 2. Convent, ancient chapel and
church of the Discalced Carmelites. Procession of the cathedral clergy on the
annual anniversary of the foundation. 3. Interior of the chapel. Before the altar
the tomb of Francisco de Salcedo, on the left the ancient grille of the Sisters' choir.
4. Views of the hermitages in the monastery garden; the first, of Christ bound to
the column, second, of Nazareth, third, of St. Augustine, and fourth, of St. Catherine.
5. Christ bound to the column, painting in the hermitage of that name. 6. Interior
of the hermitage of Nazareth, where St. Teresa was favoured with a vision of the
Holy Ghost. 7. The four commands of Our Lord, transmitted by the Saint to the
Religious of her Order. This inscription is on one of the walls of the same
VII.
Bruges, P Raoux. Sc
hermitag-e.( 8 Tomb of Lorenzo de Cepeda, brother of the Saint, in his chapel in
fct. Joseph s Church. 9. Tomb of Caspar Daza, first chaplain of the monastery,
m nis chapel in the same church; and the tombs of his mother and sister. 10.
c.ruciftx carried in the memorable procession made for a deliverance from vermin.
urum and flageolets with which St. Teresa allowed her Religious to
amuse themselves on certain festivals. 12. Escutcheon of Pius IV., (1559—1565),
e rejg-ning- at the period of the monastery's foundation. 13. Escutcheon of
,\ar° Mendoza Sarmiento, Bishop of Avila at that same period. 14. Escutcheoa
or Caspar Daza. 15. Escutcheon of the Salcedo family. (See Appendix, note 7.)
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 129
more, — no, not even the graces He has given us, for the pur
pose of chastising us, because of our misuse of them; yea,
rather, they help to procure our pardon the sooner, as of
persons who have been members of His household, and who,
as they say, have eaten of His bread.
24. Let them remember His words, and behold what
He hath done unto me, who grew weary of sinning before
He grew weary of forgiving. He is never weary of giving,
nor can His compassion be exhausted. Let us not grow
weary ourselves of receiving. May He be blessed for ever,
amen ; and may all created things praise Him !
CHAPTER XX.
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN UNION AND RAPTURE WHAT RAP
TURE IS THE BLESSING IT IS TO THE SOUL THE EFFECTS
OF IT.
1. I WISH I could explain, with the help of God, wherein
union differs from rapture, or from transport, or from flight
of the spirit, as they speak, or from a trance, which are
all one.1 I mean, that all these are only different names
for that one and the same thing, which is also called ecstasy.2
It is more excellent than union, the fruits of it are much
greater, and its other operations more manifold; for union
is uniform in the beginning, the middle, and the end, and
1 See Inner Fortress, vi. ch. v.; Philippus a SS. Trinitate, Theolog.
Mystic, par. iii. tr. 1, art. 3: "Haec oratio raptus superior est prrece-
dentibus orationis gradibus, etiam orationis unionis ordinarise, et habet
effectus multo excellentiores et multas alias operationes."
8 "She says that rapture is more excellent than union; that is, that
the soul in a rapture has a greater fruition of God, and that God takes
it then more into His own hands. That is evidently so; because in a
rapture the soul loses the use of its exterior and interior faculties.
When she says that union is the beginning, middle, and end, she means
that pure union is almost always uniform; but that there are degrees in
rapture, of which some are, as it were, the beginning, some the middle,
others the end. That is the reason why it is called by different
names; some of which denote the least, others the most, perfect form
of it, as it will appear hereafter." — Note in the Spanish edition of
Lopez (De la Fuente}.
130 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XX.
is so also interiorly. But as raptures have ends of a much
higher kind, they produce effects both within and without.1
As our Lord has explained the other matters, so also may He
explain this ; for certainly, if He had not shown me in what
way and by what means this explanation was in some
measure possible, I should never have been able to do it.
2. Consider we now that this last water, of which I
am speaking, is so abundant that, were it not that the ground
refuses to receive it, we might suppose that the cloud of
His great Majesty is here raining down upon us on earth.
And when we are giving Him thanks for this great mercy,
drawing near to Him in earnest, with all our might, then
it is our Lord draws up the soul, as the clouds, so to speak,
gather the mists from the face of the earth, and carries it
away out of itself, — I have heard it said that the clouds,
or the sun, draw the mists together,2 — and as a cloud, rising
up to heaven, takes the soul with Him, and begins to show
it the treasures of the kingdom which He has prepared for
it. I know not whether the comparison be accurate or not;
but the fact is, that is the way in which it is brought about.
During rapture, the soul does not seem to animate the body,
the natural heat of which is perceptibly lessened ; the coldness
increases, though accompanied with exceeding joy and sweet
ness.3
3. A rapture is absolutely irresistible ; whilst union, inas
much as we are then on our own ground, may be hindered,
though that resistance be painful and violent; it is, however,
almost always possible. But rapture, for the most part, is
1 Anton, a Spirit. Sancto, Direct. Mystic, tr. 4, d. i. n. 95: "Licet
oratio raptus idem sit apud mysticos ac oratio volatus, seu elevationis
spiritus seu extasis: reipsa tamen raptus aliquid addit super extasim:
nam extasis importat simplicem excessum mentis in seipso secundum
quern aliquis extra suam cognitionem ponitur. Raptus vero super hoc
addit violentiam quandam ab aliquo extrinseco.''
2 The words between the dashes are in the handwriting of the
Saint — not, however, in the text, but on the margin (De la Fuente).
3 See Inner Fortress, vi. ch. x: "Primus effectus orationis ecstaticse
est in corpore, quod ita remanet, ac si per animam non informaretur,
infrigidatur emm calore naturali deficiente, clauduntnr suaviter oculi,
et alii sensus amittuntur: contingit tamen quod corpus infirmum in
hac oratione sanitatem recuperat." Anton, a Spirit. Sancto, Direct.
Mystic, tr. iv. a. 2, § 6. n. ISO.
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 131
irresistible. It comes, in general, as a shock, quick and sharp,
before you can collect your thoughts, or help yourself in
any way, and you see and feel it as a cloud, or a strong
eagle rising upwards, and carrying you away on its wings.
4. I repeat it : you feel and see yourself carried away,
you know not whither. For though we feel how delicious it
is, yet the weakness of our nature makes us afraid at first,
and we require a much more resolute and courageous spirit
than in the previous states, in order to risk every thing,
come what may, and to abandon ourselves into the hands
of God, and go willingly whither wre are carried, seeing that
we must be carried away, however painful it may be ; and
so trying is it, that I would very often resist, and exert all
my strength, particularly at those times when the rapture
was coming on me in public. I did so, too, very often when I
was alone, because I was afraid of delusions. Occasionally I
was able, by great efforts, to make a slight resistance ; but
afterwards I was wrorn out, like a person who had been con
tending with a strong giant ; at other times it was impossible
to resist at all : my soul was carried away, and almost always
my head with it, — I had no power over it, — and now and then
the whole body as well, so that it was lifted up from the
ground.
5. This has not happened to me often : once, however,
it took place when we were all together in choir, and I, on
my knees, on the point of communicating. It was a very
sore distress to me ; for I thought it a most extraordinary
tiling, and was afraid it would occasion much talk ; so I
commanded the nuns — for it happened after I was made
Prioress — never to speak of it. But at other times, the
moment I felt that our Lord was about to repeat the act,
and once, in particular, during a sermon, — it was the feast of
our house, some great ladies being present, — I threw myself
on the ground ; then the nuns came around me to hold me ;
but still the rapture was observed.
6. I made many supplications to our Lord, that He
would be pleased to give me no more of those graces which
were outwardly visible ; for I was weary of living under
such great restraint, and because His Majesty could not
bestow such graces on me without their becoming known.
It seems that, of His goodness, He has been pleased to hear
132 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XX.
my prayer; for I have never been enraptured since. It is
true that it was not long ago.1
7. It seemed to me, when I tried to make some resistance,
as if a great force beneath my feet lifted me up. I know of
nothing with which to compare it ; but it was much more
violent than the other spiritual visitations, and I was there
fore as one ground to pieces ; for it is a great struggle, and,
in short, of little use, whenever our Lord so wills it. There
is no power against His power.
8. At other times He is pleased to be satisfied when
He makes us see that He is ready to give us this grace,
and that it is not He that withholds it. Then, when we
resist it out of humility, He produces those very effects which
would have resulted if we had fully consented to it.
9. The effects of rapture are great : one is that the
mighty power of our Lord is manifested ; and as we are not
strong enough, when His Majesty wills it, to control either
soul or body, so neither have we any power over it ; but,
whether we like it or not, we see that there is one mightier
than we are, that these graces are His gifts, and that of
ourselves we can do nothing whatever; and humility is deeply
imprinted in us. And further, I confess that it threw me
into great fear, very great indeed at first; for when I saw
my body thus lifted up from the earth, how could I help
it? Though the spirit draws it upwards after itself, and
that with great sweetness, if unresisted, the senses are not
lost ; at least, I was so much myself as to be able to see that
I was being lifted up. The majesty of Him who can effect
this so manifests itself, that the hairs of my head stand
upright,2 and a great fear comes upon me of offending God,
who is so mighty. This fear is bound up in exceedingly
great love, which is acquired anew, and directed to Him, who,
we see, bears so great a love to a worm so vile, and who
seems not to be satisfied with attracting the soul to Him
self in so real a way, but who will have the body also, though
it be mortal and of earth so foul, such as it is through our
sins, which are so great.
1 This passage could not have been in the first Life: for that was
written before she had ever been Prioress.
-Job iv. 15. (See S. John of the Cross, Spiritual Canticle, sts. 14,
15, vol. ii. p. 83, Engl. trans.)
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 133
10. Rapture leaves behind a certain strange detach
ment also, which I shall never be able to describe; I think
I can say that it is in some respects different from — yea,
higher than — the ot'her graces, which are simply spiritual;
for though these effect a complete detachment in spirit from
all things, it seems that in this of rapture our Lord would
have the body itself be detached also; and thus a certain
singular estrangement from the things of earth is wrought,
which makes life much more distressing. Afterwards it
causes a pain, which we can never inflict of ourselves, nor
remove when once it has come.
11. I should like very much to explain this great pain,
and I believe I shall not be able; however, I will say some
thing if I can. And it is to be observed that this is my
present state, and one to which I have been brought very
lately, after all the visions and revelations of which I shall
speak, and after that time, wherein I gave myself to prayer,
in which our Lord gave me so much sweetness and delight.1
Even now I have that sweetness occasionally ; but it is the
pain of which I speak that is the most frequent and the
most common. It varies in its intensity. I will now speak
of it when it is sharpest; for I shall speak later on2 of the
great shocks I used to feel when our Lord would throw
me into those trances, and which are, in my opinion, as
different from this pain as the most corporeal thing is from
the most spiritual ; and I believe that I am not exaggerating
much. For though the soul feels that pain, it is in company
with the body;3 both soul and body apparently share it, and
it is not attended with that extremity of abandonment which
belongs to this.
12. As I said before,4 we have no part in causing this
pain ; but very often there springs up a desire unexpectedly,
— I know not how it comes, — and because of this desire,
which pierces the soul in a moment, the soul begins to be
wearied, so much so that it rises upwards above itself, and
above all created things. God then so strips it of every
thing, that, do what it may, there is nothing on earth that
can be its companion. Neither, indeed, would it wish to
have any ; it would rather die in that loneliness. If people
spoke to it, and if itself made every effort possible to speak.
1 See ch. xxix. 2 See ch. xxi. § 8.
3 § 10, supra. * § 4.
134 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XX.
it would be of little use: the spirit, notwithstanding all it
may do, cannot be withdrawn from that loneliness ; and
though God seems, as it were, far away from the soul at that
moment, yet He reveals His grandeurs at times in the
strangest way conceivable. That way is indescribable ; I do
not think any one can believe or comprehend it who has
not previously had experience of it. It is a communication
made, not to console, but to show the reason why the soul
must be weary : because it is far away from the Good which
in itself comprehends all good.
13. In this communication the desire grows, so also does
the bitterness of that loneliness wherein the soul beholds
itself, suffering a pain so sharp and piercing that, in that
very loneliness in which it dwells, it may literally say of
itself, — and perhaps the royal prophet said so, being in that
very loneliness himself, except that our Lord may have
granted to him, being a saint, to feel it more deeply, — "I have
watched, and become as a sparrow alone on the house-top."1
These words presented themselves to me in such a way that I
thought I saw them fulfilled in myself. It was a comfort to
know that others had felt this extreme loneliness ; how much
greater my comfort, when these persons were such as David
was ! The soul is then — so I think — not in itself, but on the
house-top, or on the roof, above itself, and above all created
things ; for it seems to me to have its dwelling higher than
even in the highest part of itself.
14. On other occasions, the soul seems to be, as it were,
in the utmost extremity of need, asking itself, and saying,
"Where is thy God?"2 And it is to be remembered, that
I did not know how to express in Spanish the meaning of
those words. Afterwards, when I understood what it was,
I used to console myself with the thought, that our Lord,
without any effort of mine, had made me remember them.
At other times, I used to recollect a saying of S. Paul's, to
the effect that he was crucified to the world.3 I do not
mean that this is true of me: I know it is not; but I think
it is the state of the enraptured soul. No consolation reaches
it from heaven, and it is not there itself ; it wishes for none
from earth, and it is not there either; but it is, as it were,
crucified between heaven and earth, enduring its passion :
receiving no succour from either.
1 Ps. ci. 8. - Ps. xli. 4. 3 Galat. vi. 14.
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 135
15. Now, the succour it receives from heaven — which,
as I have said,1 is a most marvellous knowledge of God,
above all that we can desire — brings with it greater pain ;
for the desire then so grows, that, in my opinion, its intense
painfulness now and then robs the soul of all sensation ;
only, it lasts but for a short time after the senses are sus
pended. It seems as if it were the point of death ; only,
the agony carries with it so great a joy, that I know of
nothing wherewith to compare it. It is a sharp martyrdom,
full of sweetness; for if any earthly thing be then offered
to the soul, even though it may be that which it habitually
found most sweet, the soul will have none of it; yea, it
seems to throw it away at once. The soul sees distinctly
that it seeks nothing but God; yet its love dwells not on
any attribute of Him in particular; it seeks Him as He is,
and knows not what it seeks. I say that it knows not, be
cause the imagination forms no representation whatever;
and, indeed, as I think, during much of that time the faculties
are at rest. Pain suspends them then, as joy suspends them
in union and in a trance.
16. O Jesus ! oh, that some one would clearly explain
this to you, my father, were it only that you may tell me
what it means, because this is the habitual state of my soul !
Generally, when I am not particularly occupied, I fall into
these agonies of death, and I tremble when I feel them com
ing on, because they are not unto death. But when I am in
them, I then wish to spend therein all the rest of my life,
though the pain be so very great, that I can scarcely endure
it. Sometimes my pulse ceases, as it were, to beat at all,
— so the sisters say, who sometimes approach me, and who
now understand the matter better, — my bones are racked, and
my hands become so rigid, that I cannot always join them.
Even on the following day I have a pain in my wrists, and
over my whole body, as if my bones were out of joint.2
Well, I think sometimes, if it continues as at present, that
it will end, in the good pleasure of our Lord, by putting
an end to my life ; for the pain seems to me sharp enough
to cause death; only, I do not deserve it.
1 §§ 9 and 12.
2 Daniel x. 16. See S. John of the Cross, Spiritual Canticle, st. 14.
vol. ii. p. 84, Engl. trans.; and also Relation, viii. § 8, where this is
repeated.
136 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XX.
17. All my anxiety at these times is that I should die:
I do not think of purgatory, nor of the great sins I have
committed, and by which I have deserved hell. I forget
every thing in my eagerness to see God; and this abandon
ment and loneliness seem preferable to any company in the
world. If any thing can be a consolation in this state, it
is to speak to one who has passed through this trial, seeing
that, though the soul may complain of it, no one seems
disposed to believe in it.
18. The soul is tormented also because the pain has
increased so much, that it seeks solitude no longer, as it did
before, nor companionship, unless it be that of those to
whom it may make its complaint. It is now like a person
who, having a rope around his neck, and being strangled,
tries to breathe. This desire of companionship seems to me
to proceed from our weakness ; for, as pain brings with it
the risk of death, — which it certainly does; for I have been
occasionally in danger of death, in my great sickness and
infirmities, as I have said before,1 and I think I may say that
this pain is as great as any, — so the desire not to be parted,
which possesses soul and body, is that which raises the cry
for succour in order to breathe, and by speaking of it, by
complaining, and distracting itself, causes the soul to seek
means of living very much against the will of the spirit, or
the higher part of the soul, which would not wish to be
delivered from this pain.
19. I am not sure that I am correct in what I say, nor do
I know how to express myself, but to the best of my knowl
edge it comes to pass in this way. See, my father, what
rest I can have in this life, now that what I once had in
prayer and loneliness- — therein our Lord used to comfort me
— has become in general a torment of this kind ; while, at
the same time, it is so full of sweetness, that the soul, dis
cerning its inestimable worth, prefers it to all those con
solations which it formerly had. It seems, also, to be a
safer state, because it is the way of the cross ; and involves,
in my opinion, a joy of exceeding worth, because the state
of the body in it is only pain. It is the soul that suffers and
exults alone in that joy and contentment which suffering
supplies.
1 Ch. v. § 18.
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 137
20. I know not how this can be, but so it is; it comes
from the hand of our Lord, and, as I said before,1 is not
any thing that I have acquired myself, because it is exceed
ingly supernatural, and I think I would not barter it for all
the graces of which I shall speak further on : I do not say
for all of them together, but for any one of them separately.
And it must not be forgotten that, as I have just said, these
impetuosities came upon me after I had received those graces2
from our Lord which I am speaking of now, and all those
described in this book, and it is in that state our Lord keeps
me at this moment.3
21. In the beginning I was afraid, — it happens to me
to be almost always so when our Lord leads me by a new
way, until His Majesty reassures me as I proceed, — and so
our Lord bade me not to fear, but to esteem this grace more
than all the others He had given me ; for the soul was purified
by this pain — burnished, or refined as gold in the crucible,
so that it might be the better enamelled with His gifts, and
the dross burnt away in this life, which would have to be
burnt away in purgatory.
22. I understood perfectly that this pain was a great
grace ; but I was much more certain of it now : and my con
fessor tells me I did well. And though I was afraid, be
cause I was so wicked, I never could believe it was any thing
wrong: on the other hand, the exceeding greatness of the
blessing niade me afraid, when I called to mind how little
I had deserved it. Blessed be our Lord, who is so good!
Amen.
23. I have, it seems, wandered from my subject; for I
began by speaking of raptures, and that of which I have been
speaking is even more than a rapture, and the effects of it
are what I have described. Now let us return to raptures
and speak of their ordinary characteristics. I have to say
that, when the rapture was over, my body seemed frequently
to be buoyant, as if all weight had departed from it ; so much
so, that now and then I scarcely knew that my feet touched
the ground. But during the rapture itself the body is very
often as if it were dead, perfectly powerless. It continues
1 § 12.
2 The words from "I have just said" to "graces" are in the margin
of the text, but in the handwriting of the Saint (De la Fuente}.
3 See § 11.
138 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XX.
in the position it was in when the rapture came upon it,
— if sitting, sitting ; if the hands were open, or if they wrere
shut, they will remain open or shut.1 For though the senses
fail but rarely, it has happened to me occasionally to lose
them wholly — seldom, however, and then only for a short
time. But in general they are in disorder ; and though they
have no power whatever to deal with outward things, there
remains the power of hearing and seeing; but it is as if
the things heard and seen were at a great distance, far away.
24. I do not say that the soul sees and hears when the
rapture is at the highest, — I mean by at the highest, when
the faculties are lost, because profoundly united with God,
— for then it neither sees, nor hears, nor perceives, as I
believe ; but, as I said of the previous prayer of union,2
this utter transformation of the soul in God continues only
for an instant; yet while it continues no faculty of the soul
is aware of it, or knows what is passing there. Nor can
it be understood while we are living on the earth — at least,
God will not have us understand it, because we must be
incapable of understanding it. I know it by experience.
25. You, my father, will ask me : How comes it, then,
that a rapture occasionally lasts so many hours? What has
often happened to me is this, — I spoke of it before, when
writing of the previous state of prayer,3 — the rapture is not
continuous, the soul is frequently absorbed, or, to speak
more correctly, our Lord absorbs it in Himself; and when
He has held it thus for a moment, the will alone remains in
union with Him. The movements of the two other faculties
seem to me to be like those of the needle of sun-dials, which
is never at rest; yet when the Sun of Justice will have it so,
he can hold it still.
26. This I speak of lasts but a moment,4 yet, as the
'impulse and the upraising of the spirit were vehement, and
though the other faculties bestir themselves again, the will
continues absorbed, and causes this operation in the body,
as if it were the absolute mistress ; for now that the two
other faculties are restless, and attempt to disturb it, it takes
care— for if it is to have enemies, the fewer the better —
that the senses also shall not trouble it: and thus it conies
to pass that the senses are suspended ; for so our Lord wills
1 See Relation, viii. § 8. 2 Ch. xviii. § 16.
3 Ch. xviii. § 17. 4 See ch. xl. § 12.
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 139
it. And for the most part the eyes are closed, though we
may not wish to close them ; and if occasionally they remain
open, as I said just now, the soul neither discerns nor con
siders what it sees.
27. What the body then can do here is still less, in order
that, when the faculties come together again, there may not
be so much to do. Let him, therefore, to whom our Lord
has granted this grace, be not discouraged when he finds
himself in this state — the body under constraint for many
hours, the understanding and the memory occasionally astray.
The truth is that, in general, they are inebriated with the
praises of God, or with searching to comprehend or under
stand that which has passed over them. And yet even for
this they are not thoroughly awake, but are rather like one
who has slept long, and dreamed, and is hardly yet awake.
28. I dwell so long on this point because I know that
there are persons now, even in this place,1 to whom our
Lord is granting these graces ; and if their directors have
had no experience in the matter, they wrill think, perhaps,
that they must be as dead persons during the trance, — and
they will think so the more if they have no learning. It is
piteous to see what those confessors who do not understand
this make people suffer. I shall speak of it by and by.2 Per
haps I do not know what I am saying. You, my father, will
understand it, if I am at all correct ; for our Lord has ad
mitted you to the experience of it: yet, because that experi
ence is not very great, it may be, perhaps, that you have not
considered the matter so much as I have done.
29. So, then, though I do all I can, my body has no
strength to move for some time ; the soul took it all away.
Very often, too, he who was before sickly and full of pain
remains healthy, and even stronger; for it is something great
that is given to the soul in rapture ; and sometimes, as I have
said already,3 our Lord will have the body rejoice, because it is
obedient in that which the soul requires of it. When we
recover our consciousness, the faculties may remain, if the rap
ture has been deep, for a day or two, and even for three days,
so absorbed, or as if stunned, — so much so, as to be in appear
ance no longer themselves.
30. Here comes the pain of returning to this life ; here it
is the wings of the soul grew, to enable it to fly so high : the
1 A vila. 2 Ch. xxv. § 18. 3 § 11.
140 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CII. XX.
weak feathers are fallen oft". Now the standard of Christ is
raised up aloft, which seems to be nothing else but the going
up, or the carrying up, of the Captain of the fort to the highest
tower of it, there to raise up the standard of God. The soul,
as in a place of safety, looks down on those below ; it fears
no dangers now — yea, rather, it courts them, as one assured
beforehand of victory. It sees most clearly how lightly are
the things of this world to be esteemed, and the nothingness
thereof. The soul now seeks not, and possesses not, any other
will but that of doing our Lord's will,1 and so it prays him
to let it be so; it gives to him the keys of its own will. L<>,
the gardener is now become the commander of a fortress ! The
soul will do nothing but the will of our Lord ; it will not act
as the owner even of itself, nor of any thing, not even of a
single apple in the orchard ; only, if there be any good thing
in the garden, it is at His Majesty's disposal ; for from hence
forth the soul will have nothing of its own, — all it seeks is to
do every thing for His glory, and according to His will.
31. This is really the way in which these things come to
pass ; if the raptures be true raptures, the fruits and
advantages spoken of abide in the soul ; but if they did not,
I should have great doubts about their being from God — yea,
rather, I should be afraid they were those frenzies of which
S. Vincent speaks.2 I have seen it myself, and I know it by
experience, that the soul in rapture is mistress of every thing,
and acquires such freedom in one hour, and even in less, as
to be unable to recognise itself. It sees distinctly that all
this does not belong to it, neither knows it how it came to
possess so great a good; but it clearly perceives the very
great blessing which every one of these raptures always
brings. No one will believe this who has not had experience
of it, and so they do not believe the poor soul : they saw it
lately so wicked, and now they see it pretend to things of
1 "Other will . . . Lord's will." These words — in Spanish, "Otra
voluntad, sino hacer la de nuestro Sefior" — are not in the hand
writing of the Saint; perhaps it was Father Banes who wrote them.
The MS. is blurred, and the original text seems to have been, "libre
alvedrio nin guerra" (De la Fucntc'}.
" S. Vincent. Ferrer, Instruct, de Vit. Spirit, c. xii. p. 14: "Si
dicerent tibi aliquid quod sit contra fidem, et contra Scripturam Sacram,
aut contra bonos mores, abhorreas eorum visiohem et judicia, tanquam
stultas dementias, et eorum raptus, sicut rabiamenta" — which word the
Saint translates bv "rabiamientos."
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 141
so high an order ; for it is not satisfied with serving our Lord
in the common way, — it must do so forthwith in the highest
way it can. They consider this a temptation and a folly ; yet
they would not be astonished, if they knew that it comes not
from the soul, but from our Lord, to whom it has given up
the keys of its will.
32. For my part, I believe that a soul which has reached
this state neither speaks nor acts of itself, but rather that
the supreme King takes care of all it has to do. O my God,
how clear is the meaning of those words, and what good
reason the Psalmist had, and all the world will ever have, to
pray for the wings of a dove I1 It is plain that this is the
flight of the spirit rising upwards above all created things,
and chiefly above itself: but it is a sweet flight, a delicious
flight — a flight without noise.
33. Oh, what power that soul possesses which our Lord
raises to this state ! how it looks down upon every thing,
entangled by nothing ! how ashamed it is of the time when it
was entangled ! how it is amazed at its own blindness ! how
it pities those who are still in darkness, especially if they
are men of prayer, and have received consolations from God !
It would like to cry out to them, that they might be made
to see the delusions they are in : and, indeed, it does so now
and then ; and then a thousand persecutions fall upon it as
a shower. People consider it wanting in humility, and think
it means to teach those from whom it should learn, particu
larly if it be a woman. Hence its condemnation; and not
without reason ; because they know not how strong the in
fluence. is that moves it. The soul at times cannot help itself;
nor can it refrain from undeceiving those it loves, and whom
it longs to see delivered out of the prison of this life ; for that
state in which the soul itself had been before neither is,
nor seems to be, any thing else but a prison.
34. The soul is weary of the days during which it re
spected points of honour, and the delusion which led it to
believe that to be honour which the world calls by that name ;
now it sees it to be the greatest lie, and that we are all walking
therein. It understands that true honour is not delusive,
but real, esteeming that which is worthy of esteem, and de
spising that which is despicable ; for every thing is nothing,
and less than nothing, whatever passeth away, and is not
1 Ps. liv. 7.
142 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [cii. XX.
pleasing unto God. The soul laughs at itself when it thinks
of the time in which it regarded money, and desired to
possess it, — though, as to this, I verily believe that I never
had to confess such a fault; it was fault enough to have
regarded money at all. If I could purchase with money
the blessings which I possess, I should make much of it ;
but it is plain that these blessings are gained by abandoning
all things.
35. What is there that is procurable by this money which
we desire? Is it any thing of worth, any thing lasting?
vVhy, then, do we desire it? A dismal resting-place it
provides, which costs so dear ! Very often it obtains for us
hell itself, fire everlasting, and torments without end. Oh,
if all men would but regard it as profitless dross, how peaceful
the world would be ! how free from bargaining ! How
friendly all men would be one with another, if no regard
were paid to honour and money ! I believe it would be a
remedy for every thing.
36. The soul sees how blind men are to the nature of
pleasure — how by means of it they provide for themselves
trouble and disquietude even in this life. What restlessness !
how little satisfaction ! what labour in vain ! It sees, too,
not only the cobwebs that cover it, and its great faults, but
also the specks of dirt, however slight they may be; for the
sun shines most clearly ; and thus, however much the soul
may have laboured at its own perfection, it sees itself to be
very unclean, if the rays of the sun fall really upon it. The
soul is like water in a vessel, which appears pellucid when the
sun does not shine through it ; but if it does, the water then
is found to be full of motes.
37. This comparison is literally correct. Before the soul
fell into the trance, it thought itself to be careful about not
offending God, and that it did what it could in proportion
to its strength ; but now that it has attained to this state,
in which the Sun of Justice shines upon it, and makes it open
its eyes, it beholds so man}- motes, that it would gladly close
them again. It is not so truly the child of the noble eagle,
that it can gaze upon the sun ; but, for the few instants it
can keep them open, it beholds itself wholly unclean. It
remembers the words: "Who shall be just in Thy presence?"1
When it looks on this divine Sun, the brightness thereof
1 Job iv. 17.
CH. XXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 143
dazzles it, — when it looks on itself, its eyes are blinded by
the dust : the little dove is blind. So it happens very often :
the soul is utterly blinded, absorbed, amazed, dizzy at the
vision of so much grandeur.
38. It is in rapture that true humility is acquired —
humility that will never say any good of self, nor suffer
others to do so. The Lord of the garden, not the soul,
distributes the fruit thereof, and so none remains in its hands ;
all the good it has, it refers to God ; if it says any thing about
itself, it is for His glory. It knows that it possesses nothing
here ; and even if it wished, it cannot continue ignorant of
that. It sees this, as it were, with the naked eye ; for, whether
it will or not, its eyes are shut against the things of this
world, and open to see the truth.
CHAPTER XXI.
CONCLUSION OF THE SUBJECT — PAIN OF THE AWAKENING
LIGHT AGAINST DELUSIONS.
1. To bring this matter to an end, I say that it is riot
necessary for the soul to give its consent here ; it is already
given : the soul knows that it has given up its will into His
hands,1 and that it cannot deceive Him, because He knoweth
all things. It is not here as it is in the world, where all
life is full of deceit and double-dealing. When you think
you have gained one man's good will, because of the outward
show he makes, you afterwards learn that all was a lie.
No one can live in the midst of so much scheming, particularly
if there be any interests at stake.
2. Blessed, then, is that soul which our Lord draws on
to the understanding of the truth ! Oh, what a state for kings !
How much better it would be for them if they strove for this,
rather than for great dominions! How justice would prevail
under their rule ! What evils would be prevented, and might
have been prevented already ! Here no man fears to lose life
or honour for the love of God. What a grand thing this
would be in him who is more bound than those beneath him
1 Ch. xx. § 30.
144 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXI.
to regard the honour of our Lord ! — for it is kings whom the
crowd must follow. To make one step in the propagation
of the faith, and to give one ray of light to heretics, I would
forfeit a thousand kingdoms. And with good reason : for it
is another thing altogether to gain a kingdom that shall never
end, because one drop of the water of that kingdom, if the
soul but tastes it, renders the things of this world utterly
loathsome.
3. If, then, the soul should be wholly engulfed, what
then? O Lord, if Thou wert to give me the right to publish
this abroad, people would not believe me — as they do not
believe many who are able to speak of it in a way very different
from mine : but I should satisfy myself, at least. I believe I
should count my life as nothing, if I might make others
understand but one of these truths. I know not what I should
do afterwards, for I cannot trust myself; though I am what
I am, I have a violent desire, which is wasting me, to say
this to those who are in authority. And now that I can do
no more, I betake myself to Thee, O my Lord to implore a
remedy for all. Thou knowest well that 'I would gladly divest
myself of all the graces which Thou hast given me, — pro
vided I remained in a condition never to offend Thee, — and
give them up to those who arc kings ; for I know it would
then be impossible for them to allow what they allow now,
or fail to receive the very greatest blessings.
4. O my God, make kings to understand how far their
obligations reach ! Thou hast been pleased to distinguish
them on earth in such a way that — so I have heard — Thou
showest signs in the heavens when Thou takest any of them
away. Certainly, when I think of this, my devotion is stirred,
because Thou wilt have them learn, O my King, even from
this, that they must imitate Thee in their lives, seeing that,
when they die, signs are visible in the heavens, as it was
when Thou wert dying Thyself.
5. I am very bold ; if it be wrong, you, my father, will
tear this out : only believe that I should speak much more
to the purpose in the presence of kings, — if I might, or thought
they would listen to me, — for I recommend them greatly to
God, and I wish I might be of service to them. All this
makes one risk life ; for I long frequently to lose mine, —
and that would be to lose a little for the chance of gaining
much ; for surely it is not possible to live, when we see with
CH. XXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 145
our eyes the great delusion wherein we are walking, and the
blindness in which we are living.
6. A soul that has attained to this is not limited to the
desires it has to serve God; for His Majesty gives it strength
to bring those desires to good effect. Nothing can be put
before it into which it will not throw itself, if only it thinks
that God may be served thereby : and yet it is doing nothing,
because as I said before,1 it sees clearly that all is nothing,
except pleasing God. The trial is, that those who are so
worthless as I am, have no trial of the kind. May it be Thy
good pleasure, O my Good, that the time may come in which
I may be able to pay one farthing, at least, of the heavy debt
I owe Thee ! Do Thou, O Lord, so dispose matters according
to Thy will, that this Thy servant may do Thee some service.
Other women there have been who did heroic deeds for Thee ;
I arn good only to talk ; and so it has not been Thy pleasure,
O my God, that I should do any thing: all ends in talk and
desires — that is all my service. And yet even in this I am
not free, because it is possible I might fail altogether.
7. Strengthen Thou my soul, and prepare it, O Good
of all good ; and. my Jesus, then ordain Thou the means
whereby I may do something for Thee, so that there may
be not even one who can bear to receive so much, and make
no payment in return. Cost what it may, O Lord, let me not
come before Thee with hands so empty,2 seeing that the
reward of every one will be according to his works.3 Behold
my life, behold my good name and my will ; I have given
them all to Thee ; I am Thine : dispose of me according to
Thy will. I see well enough, O Lord, how little I can do ;
but now, having drawn near to Thee, — having ascended to this
watch-tower, from which the truth may be seen, — and while
Thou departest not from me, I can do all things ; but if Thou
departest from me, were it but for a moment, I shall go thither
where I was once — that is to hell.4
8. Oh, what it is for a soul in this state to have to return
to the commerce of the world, to see and look on the farce of
this life,5 so ill-ordered ; to waste its time in attending to the
body by sleeping and eating !G All is wearisome ; it cannot
run away, — it sees itself chained and imprisoned ; it feels then
1 Ch. xx. § 34. - Exod. xxiii. 15. 3 Apoc. ii. 23.
4 See ch. xxxii. § 1. 5 "Farsa desta vida tan mal concertac'a."
6 Inner Fortress, iv. ch. i. § 11.
146 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [<JH. XXI.
most keenly the captivity into which the body has brought us,
and the wretchedness of this life. It understands the reason
why S. Paul prayed God to deliver him from it.1 The soul
cries with the Apostle, and calls upon God to deliver it, as I
said on another occasion.2 But here it often cries with so
much violence, that it seems as if it would go out of the body
in search of its freedom, now that they do not take it away.
It is as a slave sold into a strange land ; and what distresses
it most is, that it cannot find many who make the same com
plaint and the same prayer: the desire of life is more common.
9. Oh, if we were utterly detached, — if we never placed
our happiness in anything of this world, — how the pain, caused
by living always away from God, would temper the fear of
death with the desire of enjoying the true life! Sometimes
I consider, if a person like myself — because our Lord has
given this light to me, whose love is so cold, and whose true
rest is so uncertain, for I have not deserved it by my works —
frequently feels her banishment so much, what the feelings of
the Saints must have been. What must S. Paul and the
Magdalene, and others like them, have suffered, in whom the
fire of the love of God had grown so strong? Their life must
have been a continual martyrdom. It seems to me that they
who bring me any comfort, and whose conversation is any
relief, are those persons in whom I find these desires — I mean,
desires with acts. I say with acts, for there are people who
think themselves detached, and who say so of themselves, —
and it must be so, for their vocation demands it, as well as
the many years that are past since some of them began to
walk in the way of perfection, — but my soul distinguishes
clearly, and afar off, between those who are detached in words,
and those who make good those words by deeds. The little
progress of the former, and the great progress of the latter,
make it plain. This is a matter which a person of any expe
rience can see into most clearly.
10. So far, then, of the effects of those raptures which
come from the Spirit of God. The truth is, that these are
greater or less. I say less, because in the beginning, though
the effects are wrought, they are not tested by works, and
so it cannot be clear that a person has them : and perfection,
too, is a thing of growth, and of labouring after freedom from
the cobwebs of memory; and this requires some time. Mean-
1 Rom. vii. 24. 2 Ch. xvi. § 12.
CH. XXI.] WRITTEN UY HERSELF. 147
while, the greater the growth of love and humility in the
soul, the stronger the perfume of the flowers of virtues is for
itself and for others. The truth is, that our Lord can so work
in the soul in an instant during these raptures, that but little
remains for the soul to do in order to attain to perfection.
No one, who has not had experience of it, will ever be able
to believe what our Lord now bestows on the soul. No efforts
of ours — so I think — can ever reach so far.
11. However, I do not mean to say that those persons
who during many years make use of the methods prescribed
by writers on prayer, — who discuss the principles thereof, and
the means whereby it may be acquired, — will not, by the help
of our Lord, attain to perfection and great detachment, with
much labour; but they will not attain to it so rapidly as by
the way of raptures, in which our Lord works independently
of us, draws the soul utterly away from earth, and gives it
dominion over all things here below, though the merits of
that soul may not be greater than mine were : I cannot use
stronger language, for my merits are as nothing. Why His
Majesty doeth this is, because it is His pleasure, and He doetli
it according to His pleasure : even if the soul be without the
fitting disposition, He disposes it for the reception of that
blessing which He is giving to it. Although it be most
certain that He never fails to comfort those who do well, and
strive to be detached, still He does not always give these
effects because they have deserved them at His hands by
cultivating the garden, but because it is His will to show
His greatness at times in soil which is most worthless, as
I have just said, and to prepare it for all good : and all this
in such a way that it seems as if the soul was now, in a
manner, unable to go back and 'live in sin against God, as it
did before.
12. The mind is now so inured to the comprehension of
that which is truth indeed, that every thing else seems to it to
be but child's play. It laughs to itself, at times, when it sees
grave men — men given to prayer, men of religion — make
much of points of honour, which itself is trampling beneath
its feet. They say that discretion, and the dignity of their
callings, require it of them as a means to do more good ; but
that soul knows perfectly well that they would do more good
in one day by preferring the love of God to this their dignity,
than they will do in ten years by considering it.
148 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXI.
13. The life of this soul is a life of trouble: the cross is
always there, but the progress it makes is great. When those
who have to do with it think it has arrived at the summit of
perfection, within a little while they see it much more
advanced ; for God is ever giving it grace upon grace. God
is the Soul of that soul now ; it is He who has the charge of
it : and so He enlightens it ; for He seems to be watching
over it, always attentive to it, that it may not offend Him, —
giving it grace, and stirring it up in His service. When my
soul reached this state, in which God showed me mercy so
great, my wretchedness came to an end, and our Lord gave
me strength to rise above it. The former occasions of sin,
as well as the persons with whom I was accustomed to
distract myself, did me no more harm than if they had never
existed; on the contrary, that which ordinarily did me harm,
helped me on. Every thing contributed to make me know
God more, and to love Him ; to make me see how much I
owed Him, as well as to be sorry for being what I had been.
14. I saw clearly that this did not come from myself,
that I had not brought it about by any efforts of my own,
and that there was not time enough for it. His Majesty, of
His mere goodness, had given me strength for it. From the
time our Lord began to give me the grace of raptures, until
now, this strength has gone on increasing. He, of His good
ness, hath held me by the hand, that I might not go back.
I do not think that I am doing any thing myself — certainly
I do not ; for I see distinctly that all this is the work of our
Lord. For this reason, it seems to me that the soul in which
our Lord worketh these graces, — if it walks in humility and
fear, always acknowledging the work of our Lord, and that
we ourselves can do, as it were, nothing, — may be thrown
among any companions, and, however distracted and wicked
these may be, will neither be hurt nor disturbed in any way ;
on the contrary, as I have just said, that it will help it on,
and be a means unto it whereby it may derive much greater
profit.
15. Those souls are strong which are chosen by our
Lord to do good to others ; still, this their strength is not
their own. When our Lord brings a soul on to this state,
He communicates to it of His greatest secrets by degrees.
True revelations — the great gifts and visions — come by ecsta
sies, all tending to make the soul humble and strong, to
SKCOND FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del
1. Father Baltasar Alvarez. 2. Ruins of the Jesuit College, near the Car
melite monastery. 3. Ruined monastery of the Calced Carmelites. 4. Monastery
of the Discalced Carmelites, with the house of Helena de Quiroga. Bulls being-
brought in for the bullfight. 5. View of the same monastery from the railroad
between Bayonne and Madrid. 6. Breviary of Saint Teresa, printed at Venice in 1568;
bound in red velvet, and enclosed in a case of silver openwork, with the inscrip
tion, "Our holy Mother Teresa of Jesus used this breviary". 7. Account book
with the signature of St. Teresa for the period while she was Prioress, in the year
1571. 8. Bourse for a corporal embroidered by St. Teresa. 9. Chalice veil worked
ST. JOSEPH AT MEDINA DEL CAMPO.
VIII.
Bruges, P Raoux. Sc
with the needle by St. Teresa. 10. Tomb of the Prioress A^nes of Jesus, known
in the world as Inez de Tapia, Saint Teresa's cousin. 11. Sepulchral slab of
Caterlna Alvarez, mother of St. John of the Cross, buried in the cloister of the
monastery, at the foot of the Prioress' tomb. The inscription runs: "Here lies
the venerable lady Caterina Alvarez, mother of our Father, St. John of the Cross."
12. Arms of St. Pius V. (1566 — 1572) in whose pontificate the monastery was founded.
.
f 4. * e de Vera y de Monroy family, founders and patrons of the church
)1 the Carmelites. 14. Arms of Helena de Quiroga. 15. Arms of the city of Medina
del Camno. (See Appendix, note 8.)
CH. XXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 149
make it despise the things of this world, and have a clearer
knowledge of the greatness of the reward which our Lord
has prepared for those who serve Him.1
16. May it please His Majesty that the great munificence
with which He hath dealt with me, miserable sinner that I
am, may have some weight with those who shall read this, so
that they may be strong and courageous enough to give up
every thing utterly for God. If His Majesty repays us so
abundantly, that even in this life the reward and gain of those
who serve Him become visible, wrhat will it be in the next?
CHAPTER XXII.
THE SECURITY OF CONTEMPLATIVES LIES IN THEIR NOT AS
CENDING TO HIGH THINGS IF OUR LORD DOES NOT RAISE
THEM THE SACRED HUMANITY MUST BE THE ROAD TO THE
HIGHEST CONTEMPLATION A DELUSION IN WHICH THE
SAINT WAS ONCE ENTANGLED.
1. THERE is one thing I should like to say — I think it
important : and if you, my father, approve, it will serve for
a lesson that possibly may be necessary ; for in some books
on prayer the writers say that the soul, though it cannot
in its own strength attain to this state, — because it is alto
gether a supernatural work wrought in it by our Lord, —
may nevertheless succeed, by lifting up the spirit above all
created things, and raising it upwards in humility, after some
years spent in the purgative life, and advancing in the illumi
native. I do not very well know what they mean by illumina
tive : I understand it to mean the life of those who are making
progress. And they advise us much to withdraw from all
bodily imagination, and draw near to the contemplation of
the Divinity ; for they say that those who have advanced so
far would be embarrassed or hindered in their way to the
highest contemplation, if they regarded even the Sacred
1 1 Cor. ii. 9.
150 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXII.
Humanity itself.1 They defend their opinion2 by bringing
forward the words3 of our Lord to the Apostles, concerning
the coming of the Holy Ghost; I mean that coming which
was after the Ascension. If the Apostles had believed, as
they believed after the coming of the Holy Ghost, that He is
both God and Man, His bodily Presence would, in my opinion,
have been no hindrance ; for those words were not said to the
Mother of God, though she loved Him more than all.4 They
think that, as this work of contemplation is wholly spiritual,
any bodily object whatever can disturb or hinder it. They
say that the contemplative should regard himself as being
within a definite space, God even-where around, and himself
absorbed in Him. This is what he should aim at.
2. This seems to me right enough now and then ; but
to withdraw altogether from Christ, and to compare His
divine Body with our miseries or with any created thing
whatever, is what I cannot endure. May God help me to
explain myself ! I am not contradicting them on this point,
for they are learned and spiritual persons, understanding what
they say : God, too, is guiding souls by many ways and
methods, as He has guided mine. It is of my own soul that
I wish to speak now, — I do not intermeddle with others, —
and of the danger I was in because I would comply with
the directions I was reading. I can well believe that he who
has attained to union, and advances no further, — that is, to
raptures, visions, and other graces of God given to souls, —
will consider that opinion to be best, as I did myself : and if I
had continued in it, I believe I should never have reached the
state I am in now. I hold it to be a delusion : still, it may be
that it is I who am deluded. But I will tell you what happened
to me.
1 See Inner Fortress, vi. 7, § 4.
2 This opinion is supposed to be justified by the words of S.
Thomas, 3 Sent, clist. 22, qu. 3, art. 1, ad quintum; "Corporalis prresen-
tia Christi in duobus poterat esse nociva. Primo, quantum ad fidem,
quia videntes Euni in forma in qua erat minor Patre, non ita de facili
crederent Eum jcqualem Patri, ut dicit glossa super Joannem. Secun-
do, quantum ad dilectionem, quia Eum non solum spiritualiter, sed
etiam carnaliter diligeremus, conversantes cum Ipso corporaliter, et
hoc est de imperfectione. dilectionis."
3 St. John xvi. 7.
This sentence is in the margin of the original MS., not in the
text, but in the handwriting of the Saint (De la Fiiente^.
CH. XXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 151
3. As I had no director, I used to read these books,
where, by little and little, I thought I might understand some
thing. I found out afterwards that, if our Lord had not shown
me the way, I should have learned but little from books ; for
I understood really nothing till His Majesty made me learn
by experience : neither did I know what I was doing. So,
in the beginning, when I attained to some degree of super
natural prayer, — I speak of the prayer of quiet, — I laboured
to remove from myself every thought of bodily objects ; but
I did not dare to lift up my soul, for that I saw would be
presumption in me, who was always so wicked. I thought,
however, that I had a sense of the presence of God : this
was true, and I contrived to be in a state of recollection
before Him. This method of prayer is full of sweetness, if
God help us in it, and the joy of it is great. And so, because
I was conscious of the profit and delight which this way
furnished me, no one could have brought me back to the con
templation of the Sacred Humanity ; for that seemed to me
to be a real hindrance to prayer.
4. O Lord of my soul, and my Good ! Jesus Christ cruci
fied ! I never think of this opinion, which I then held, with
out pain ; I believe it was an act of high treason, though
done in ignorance. Hitherto, I had been all my life long
so devout to the Sacred Humanity — for this happened but
lately ; I mean by lately, that it was before our Lord gave
me the grace of raptures and visions. I did not continue
long of this opinion,1 and so I returned to my habit of de
lighting in our Lord, particularly at Communion. I wish I
could have His picture and image always before my eyes,
since I cannot have Him graven in my soul as deeply as I
wish.
5. Is it possible, O my Lord, that I could have had the
thought, if only for an hour, that Thou couldst be a hindrance
to my greatest good? Whence are all my blessings? are
they not from Thee? I will not think that I was blamable,
for I wras very sorry for it, and it was certainly done in
ignorance. And so it pleased Thee, in Thy goodness, to
succour me, by sending me one who delivered me from this
delusion ; and afterwards by showing Thyself to me so many
1 "I mean by lately . . . and visions" is in the margin of the MS.,
but in the handwriting of the Saint (De la Fuente*).
152 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXII.
times, as I shall relate hereafter,1 that I might clearly perceive
how great my delusion was, and also tell it to many persons;
which I have done, as well as describe it as I am doing
now. I believe myself that this is the reason why so many
souls, after advancing to the prayer of union, make no further
progress, and do not attain to very great liberty of spirit.
6. It seems to me that there are two considerations on
which I may ground this opinion. Perhaps I am saying
nothing to the purpose, yet what I say is the result of ex
perience ; for my soul was in a very evil plight, till our
Lord enlightened it : all its joys were but sips ; and when
it had come forth therefrom, it never found itself in that
company which afterwards it had in trials and temptations.
7. The first consideration is this: there is a little ab
sence of humility — so secret and so hidden, that we do not
observe it. Who is there so proud and wretched as I, that,
even after labouring all his life in penances and prayers and
persecutions, can possible imagine himself not to be exceed
ingly rich, most abundantly rewarded, when our Lord per
mits him to stand with S. John at the foot of the cross?
I know not into whose head it could have entered to be not
satisfied with this, unless it be mine, which has gone wrong
in every way where it should have gone right onwards.
8. Then, if our constitution — or perhaps sickness — will
not permit us always to think of His Passion, because it is
so painful, who is to hinder us from thinking of Him risen
from the grave, seeing that we have Him so near us in the
Sacrament, where He is glorified, and where we shall not
see Him in His great weariness — scourged, streaming with
blood, faint by the way, persecuted by those to whom He
had done good, and not believed in by the Apostles? Cer
tainly, it is not always that one can bear to meditate on
sufferings so great as were those He underwent. Behold
Him here, before His ascension into heaven, without pain,
all-glorious, giving strength to some and courage to others.
In the most Holy Sacrament, He is our companion, as if it
was not in His power to withdraw Himself for a moment
from us. And yet it was in my power to withdraw from
Thee, O my Lord, that I might serve Thee better ! It may be
that I knew Thee not when I sinned against Thee ; but how
could I, having once known Thee, ever think I should gain
1 Ch. xxviii. § 4.
CH. XXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 153
more in this way? O Lord, what an evil way I took! and I
was going out of the way, if Thou hadst not brought me back
to it. When I see Thee near me, I see all good things to
gether. No trial befalls me that is not easy to bear, when I
think of Thee standing before those who judged Thee.
9. With so good a Friend and Captain ever present,
Himself the first to suffer, every thing can be borne. He
helps, He strengthens, He never fails, He is the true Friend.
I see clearly, and since then have always seen, that if we
are to please God, and if He is to give us His great graces,
every thing must pass through the hands of His most Sacred
Humanity, in whom His Majesty said that He is well pleased.1
I know this by repeated experience : our Lord has told it
me. I have seen clearly that this is the door2 by which
we are to enter, if wre would have His supreme Majesty
reveal to us His great secrets.
10. So, then, I would have your reverence seek no other
way, even if you were arrived at the highest contemplation.
This way is safe. Our Lord is He by whom all good things
come to us; lie will teach you. Consider His life; that is
the best example. What more can we want than so good a
Friend at our side, who will not forsake us when we are
in trouble and distress, as they do who belong to this world !
Blessed is he who truly loves Him, and who always has
Him near him ! Let us consider the glorious S. Paul, who
seems as if Jesus was never absent from his lips, as if he had
Him deep down in his heart. After I had heard this of some
great Saints given to contemplation, I considered the matter
carefully ; and I see that they walked in no other way. S.
Francis with the stigmata proves it, S. Antony of Padua with
the Infant Jesus; S. Bernard rejoiced in the Sacred Humanity;
so did S. Catherine of Siena, and many others, as your rever
ence knows better than I do.
11. This withdrawing from bodily objects must no doubt
l)e good, seeing that it is recommended by persons who are
so spiritual ; but, in my opinion, it ought to be done only
when the soul has made very great progress ; for until then
it is clear that the Creator must be sought for through His
creatures. All this depends on the grace which our Lord
distributes to every soul. I do not intermeddle here. What
I would say is, that the most Sacred Humanity of Christ is
1 S. Matt. iii. 17. - S. John x. 7, 9.
154 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXII.
not to be counted among the objects from which we have
to withdraw. Let this be clearly understood. I wish I
knew how to explain it.1
12. When God suspends all the powers of the soul, —
as we see He does in the states of prayer already described,
— it is clear that, whether we wish it or not, this presence
is withdrawn. Be it so, then. The loss is a blessed one,
because it takes place in order that we may have a deeper
fruition of what we seem to have lost ; for at that moment
the whole soul is occupied in loving Him whom the under
standing has toiled to know; and it loves what it has not
comprehended, and rejoices in what it could not have rejoiced
in so well, if it had not lost itself, in order, as I am saying,
to gain itself the more. But that we should carefully and
laboriously accustom ourselves not to strive with all our
might to have always — and please God it be always ! — the
most Sacred Humanity before our eyes, — this, I say, is what
seems to me not to be right: it is making the soul, as they
say, to walk in the air; for it has nothing to rest on, how
full soever of God it may think itself to be.
13. It is a great matter for us to have our Lord before
us as Man while we are living and in the flesh. This is
that other inconvenience which I say must be met with.
The first — I have already begun to describe it — is a little
failure in humility, in that the soul desires to rise of itself
before our Lord raises it, and is not satisfied with medita
tion on so excellent a subject, — seeking to be Mary before it
has laboured with Martha. If our Lord will have a soul
to be Mary, even on the first day, there is nothing to be
afraid of ; but we must not be self-invited guests, as I think
I said on another occasion.2 This little mote of want of hu
mility, though in appearance a mere nothing, does a great
deal of harm to those who wish to advance in contempla
tion.
14. I now come back to the second consideration. We
are not angels, for we have a body ; to seek to make our
selves angels while we are on the earth, and so much on
the earth as I was, is an act of folly. In general, our thoughts
must have something to rest on, though the soul may go
forth out of itself now and then, or it may be very often so
1 See S. John of the Cross, Mount Canncl, b. iii. ch. i.
2 Ch. xii. SS 8, 9.
CH. XXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 155
full of God as to be in need of no created thing by the help
of which it may recollect itself. But this is not so common
a case; for when we have many things to do, when we
are persecuted and in trouble, when we cannot have much
rest, and \vhen we have our seasons of dryness, Christ is
our best Friend ; for we regard Him as Man, and behold
Him faint and in trouble, and He is our Companion ; and
when we shall have accustomed ourselves in this way, it is
very easy to find Him near us, although there will be occa
sions from time to time when we can do neither the one
nor the other.
15. For this end, that is useful which I spoke of before:1
we must not show ourselves as labouring after spiritual con
solations ; come what may, to embrace the cross is the great
thing. The Lord of all consolation was Himself forsaken :
they left Him alone in His sorrows. Do not let us forsake
Him ; for His hand will help us to rise more than any efforts
we can make; and He will withdraw Himself when Pie sees
it to be expedient for us, and when He pleaseth will also
draw the soul forth out of itself, as I said before.2
16. God is greatly pleased when He beholds a soul in
its humility making His Son a Mediator between itself and
Him, and yet loving Him so much as to confess its own
unworthiness, even when He would raise it up to the highest
contemplation, and saying with S. Peter:3 "Go Thou away
from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man." I know this by
experience : it was thus that God directed my soul. Others
may walk, as I said before,4 by another and a shorter road.
What I have understood of the matter is this : that the whole
foundation of prayer must be laid in humility, and that the
more a soul humbles itself in prayer, the more God lifts it up.
I do not remember that He ever showed me any of those
most marvellous mercies, of which I shall speak hereafter,5
at any other time than when I was as one brought to nothing0
by seeing how wicked I was. Moreover, His Majesty con
trived to make me understand matters that helped me to
know myself, but which I could never have even imagined
of myself.
1 Ch. xv. § 21. * Ch. xx. § 2.
8 S. Luke v. 8. 4 Ch. xii. § 6.
5 Ch. xxviii. ' Ps. Ixxii. 22.
156 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXII.
17. I believe myself that if a soul makes any efforts of
its own in order to further itself in the way of the prayer
of union, and though it may seem to make immediate pro
gress, it will quickly fall back, because the foundations were
not duly laid. I fear, too, that such a soul will never attain
to true poverty of spirit, which consists in seeking consola
tion or sweetness, not in prayer, — the consolations of the earth
are already abandoned, — but rather in sorrows, for the love
of Him who always lived in sorrows Himself;1 and in being
calm in the midst of sorrows and aridities. Though the
soul may feel it in some measure, there is no disquiet, nor
any of that pain which some persons suffer, who, if they
are not always labouring with the understanding and with
a sense of devotion, think every thing lost,— as if their efforts
merited so great a blessing!
18. I am not saying that men should not seek to be
devout, nor that they should not stand with great reverence
in the presence of God, but only that they are not to vex
themselves if they cannot find even one good thought, as I
said in another place ;2 for we are unprofitable servants.3
What do we think wre can do? Our Lord grant that we
understand this, and that we may be those little asses who
drive the windlass I spoke of:4 these, though their eyes are
bandaged, and they do not understand what they are doing,
yet draw up more water than the gardener can draw with all
his efforts. We must walk in liberty on this road, com
mitting ourselves into the hands of God. If it be His
Majesty's good pleasure to raise us and place us among His
chamberlains and secret counsellors, we must go willingly;
if not, we must serve Him in the lower offices of His house,
and not sit down on the upper seats.5 As I have sometimes
said,6 God is more careful of us than we are ourselves, and
knows what each one of us is fit for.
19. What use is there in governing oneself by oneself,
when the whole will has been given up to God ! I think this
less endurable now than in the first state of prayer, and it
does much greater harm ; for these blessings are supernatural.
1 Isai. liii. 3. * Ch. xi. § 13.
8 S. Luke xvii. 10. 4 Ch. xi. § 11.
3 S. Luke xiv. 8. See Way of Perfection, ch. xxvi. § 1; but ch. xvii.
of the old editions.
6 Ch. xii. § 12, ch. xix. § 23.
CH. XXII. j WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 157
If a man has a bad voice, let him force himself ever so much
to sing, he will never improve it ; but if God gives him a good
voice, he has no need to try it twice. Let us, then, pray Him
always to show His mercy upon us, with a submissive spirit,
yet trusting in the goodness of God. And now that the soul
is permitted to sit at the feet of Christ, let it contrive not to
quit its place, but keep it anyhow. Let it follow the example
of the Magdalene ; and when it shall be strong enough, God
will lead it into the wilderness.1
20. You, then, my father, must be content with this until
you meet with some one of more experience and better
knowledge than I am. If you see people who are beginning
to taste of God, do not trust them if they think that they
advance more, and have a deeper fruition of God, when they
make efforts of their own. Oh, when God wills it, how He
discovers Himself without these little efforts of ours ! We
may do what we like, but He throws the spirit into a trance
as easily as a giant takes up a straw ; no resistance is possible.
What a thing to believe, that God will wait till the toad shall
fly of itself, when He has already willed it should do so!
Well, it seems to me still more difficult and hard for our spirit
to rise upwards, if God does not raise it, seeing that it is
burdened with earth, and hindered in a thousand ways. Its
willingness to rise is of no service to it; for, though an
aptness for flying be more natural to it than to a toad, yet is
it so sunk in the mire as to have lost it by its own fault.
21. I come, then, to this conclusion: whenever we think
of Christ, we should remind ourselves of the love that made
Him bestow so many graces upon us, and also how great
that love is which our Lord God has shown us, in giving us
such a pledge of the love He bears us; for love draws forth
love. And though we are only at the very beginning, and
exceedingly wicked, yet let us always labour to keep this in
view, and stir ourselves up to love; for if once our Lord'
grant us this grace, of having this love imprinted in our hearts,
every thing will be easy, and we shall do great things in a
very short time, and with very little labour. May His Majesty
give us that love, — He knows the great need we have of it. —
for the sake of that love which He bore us, and of His glorious
Son, to whom it cost so much to make it known to us ! Amen.
1 Os. ii. 14.
158 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXII.
22. There is one thing I should like to ask you, my father.
How is it that, when our Lord begins to bestow upon a soul
a grace so great as this of perfect contemplation, it is not,
as it ought to be, perfect at once? Certainly, it seems it
should be so ; for he who receives a grace so great ought
never more to seek consolations on earth. How is it, I ask,
that a soul which has ecstasies, and so far is more accustomed
to receive graces, should yet seem to bring forth fruits still
higher and higher, — and the more so, the more it is detached,
— when our Lord might have sanctified it at once, the moment
He came near it? How is it, I ask again, that the same Lord
brings it to the perfection of virtue only in the course of time?
I should be glad to learn the reason, for I know it not. I
do know, however, that in the beginning, when a trance lasts
only the twinkling of an eye, and is almost imperceptible
but for the effects it produces, the degree of strength which
God then gives is very different from that which He gives
when this grace is a trance of longer duration.
23. Very often, when thinking of this, have I imagined
the reason might be, that the soul does not despise itself
all at once, till our Lord instructs it by degrees, and makes it
resolute, and gives it the strength of manhood, so that it
may trample utterly upon every thing. He gave this strength
to the Magdalene in a moment. He gives the same grace
to others, according to the measure of their abandonment
of themselves into the hands of His Majesty, that He may
do with them as He will. We never thoroughly believe that
God rewards a hundredfold even in this life.1
24. I also thought of this comparison : supposing the
grace given to those who are far advanced to be the same
with that given to those who are but beginners, we may
then liken it to a certain food of which many persons partake :
they who eat a little retain the savour of it for a moment,
'they who eat more are nourished by it, but those who eat
much receive life and strength. Now, the soul may eat so
frequently and so abundantly of this food of life as to have
no pleasure in eating any other food, because it sees how
much good it derives from it. Its taste is now so formed
upon it, that it would rather not live than have to eat any
other food ; for all food but this has no other effect than to
1 S. Matt. xix. 29.
CH. XXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 159
take away the sweet savour which this good food leaves
behind.
25. Further, the conversation of good people does not
profit us in one day as much as it does in many; and we
may converse with them long enough to become like them,
by the grace of God. In short, the whole matter is as His
Majesty wills. He gives His grace to whom He pleases; but
much depends on this : he who begins to receive this grace
must make a firm resolution to detach himself from all things,
and esteem this grace according to reason.
26. It seems also to me as if His Majesty were going
about to try those who love Him, — now one, now another,
revealing Himself in supreme joy, so as to quicken our belief,
if it should be dead, in what He will give us, saying, Behold !
this is but a drop of the immense sea of blessings; for He
leaves nothing undone for those He loves; and as He sees
them receive it, so He gives, and He gives Himself. He
loves those who love Him. Oh, how dear He is! — how good
a Friend! O my soul's Lord, who can find words to describe
what Thou givest to those who trust in Thee, and what
they lose who come to this state, and yet dwell in themselves !
Oh, let not this be so, O my Lord ! for Thou doest more
than this when Thou comest to a lodging so mean as mine.
Blessed be Thou for ever and ever !
27. I now humbly ask you, my father, if you mean to
discuss what I have written on prayer with spiritual persons,
to see that they are so really; for if they be persons who
know only one way, or who have stood still midway, they
will not be able to understand the matter. There are also
some whom God leads at once by the highest way; these
think that others might advance in the same manner — quiet
the understanding, and make bodily objects none of their
means; but these people will remain dry as a stick. Others,
also, there are who, having for a moment attained to the
prayer of quiet, think forthwith that, as they have had the
one, so they may have the other. These, instead of advancing,
go back, as I said before.1 So, throughout, experience and
discretion are necessary. May our Lord, of His goodness,
bestow them on us !
160 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE SAINT RESUMES THE HISTORY OF HER LIFE AIMING AT
PERFECTION MEANS WHEREBY IT MAY BE GAINED —
INSTRUCTIONS FOR CONFESSORS.
1. I SHALL now return to that point in my life where I
broke off,1 having made, I believe, a longer digression than
I need have made, in order that what is still to come may
be more clearly understood. Henceforth, it is another and a
new book, — I mean, another and a new life. Hitherto, my
life was my own; my life, since I began to explain these
methods of prayer, is the life which God lived in me, — so
it seems to me ; for I feel it to be impossible that I should
have escaped in so short a time from ways and works that
were so wicked. May our Lord be praised, who has delivered
me from myself!
2. When, then, I began to avoid the occasions of sin,
and to give myself more unto prayer, our Lord also began
to bestow His graces upon me, as one who desired, so it
seemed, that I too should be willing to receive them. His
Majesty began to give me most frequently the grace of the
prayer of quiet, and very often that of union, which lasted
some time. But as, in these days, w^omen have fallen into
great delusions and deceits of Satan,2 I began to be afraid,
because the joy and sweetness which I felt were so great,
and very often beyond my power to avoid. On the other
hand, I felt in myself a very deep conviction that God was
with me, especially when I was in prayer. I saw, too, that
I grew better and stronger thereby.
3. But if I was a little distracted, I began to be afraid,
and to imagine perhaps it was Satan that suspended my
understanding, making me think it to be good, in order to
withdraw me from mental prayer, hinder my meditation on
the Passion, and debar me the use of my understanding:
this seemed to me, who did not comprehend the matter,
1 At the end of ch. ix. The thirteen chapters interposed between
that and this — the twenty-third — are a treatise on mystical theology.
2 She refers to Magdalene of the Cross (Reforma de los Descalqos,
vol. i. lib. i. c. xix. § 2).
CH. XXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 161
to be a grievous loss; but, as His Majesty was pleased to
give me light to offend Him no more, and to understand how
much I owed Him, this fear so grew upon me, that it made
me seek out diligently for spiritual persons with whom I
might treat of my state. I had already heard of some ; for the
Fathers of the Society of Jesus had come hither;1 and I,
though I knew none of them, was greatly attracted by them,
merely because I had heard of their way of life and of prayer ;
but I did not think myself fit to speak to them, or strong
enough to obey them; and this made me still more afraid;
for to converse with them, and remain what I was, seemed
to me somewhat rude.
4. I spent some time in this state, till, after much inward
contention and fear, I determined to confer with some spirit
ual person, to ask him to tell me what that method of
prayer was which I was using, and to show me whether
I was in error. I was also resolved to do every thing I could
not to offend God ; for the want of courage of which I was
conscious, as I said before,2 made me so timid. Was there
ever delusion so great as mine, O my God, when I withdrew
from good in order to become, good ! The devil must lay
much stress on this in the beginning of a course of virtue ;
for I could not overcome my repugnance. He knows that
the whole relief of the soul consists in conferring with the
friends of God. Hence it was that no time was fixed in
which I should resolve to do this. I waited to grow better
first, as I did before when I ceased to pray,3 — and perhaps
I never should have become better ; for I had now sunk so
deeply into the petty ways of an evil habit, — I could not con
vince myself that they were wrong, — that I needed the help
of others, who should hold out a hand to raise me up.
Blessed be Thou, O Lord ! — for the first hand outstretched
to me was Thine.
5. When I saw that my fear was going so far, it struck
me — because I was making progress in prayer — that this
must be a great blessing, or a very great evil ; for I under
stood perfectly that what had happened was something super
natural, because at times I was unable to withstand it; to
have it when I would was also impossible. I thought to
1 The college of the Society at Avila was founded in 1555; but
some of the Fathers had come thither in 1553 (De la Fuente).
1 Ch. vii. § 37. ' Ch. xix. § 9.
162 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIII.
myself that there was no help for it, but in keeping my
conscience pure, avoiding every occasion even of venial sins ;
for if it was the work of the Spirit of God, the gain was
clear; and if the work of Satan, so long as I strove to please,
and did not offend our Lord, Satan could do me little harm ;
on the contrary, he must lose in the struggle. Determined
on this course, and always praying God to help me, striving
also after purity of conscience for some days, I saw that my
soul had not strength to go forth alone to a perfection so
great. I had certain attachments to trifles, which, though
not very wrong in themselves, were yet enough to ruin all.
6. I was told of a learned ecclesiastic,1 dwelling in this
city, whose goodness and pious life our Lord was beginning
to make known to the world. I contrived to make his
acquaintance through a saintly nobleman2 living in the same
place. This latter is a married man; but his life is so edify
ing and virtuous, so given to prayer, and so full of charity,
that the goodness and perfection of it shine forth in all he
does: and most justly so; for many souls have been greatly
blessed through him, because of his great gifts, which, though
his condition of a layman be a hindrance to him, never lie
idle. He is a man of great sense, and very gentle with all
people; his conversation is never wearisome, but so sweet
and gracious, as well as upright and holy, that he pleases
every body very much with whom he has any relations.
He directs it all to the great good of those souls with whom
he converses ; and he seems to have no other end in view
but to do all he may be permitted to do for all men, and make
them content.
1 Caspar Daza had formed a society of priests in Avila, and was a
very laborious and holy man. It was he who said the first Mass in
the monastery of S. Joseph, founded by S. Teresa, whom he survived,
dying Nov. 24, 1592. He committed the direction of his priests to F.
Baltasar Alvarez (Bouix}. Juan of Avila acted much in the same way
when the Jesuits settled in Avila (De la Fuenie).
3 Don Francisco de Salcedo. After the death of his wife, he be
came a priest, and was chaplain and confessor of the Carmelite nuns of
S. Joseph. For twenty years of his married life he attended regularly
the theological lectures of the Dominicans, in the house of S. Thomas.
His death took place Sept. 12, 1580, when he had been a priest for ten
years (5". Teresa's Letters, vol. iv. letter 43, note 13: letter 368, ed. of
De la Fuente).
CH. XXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 163
7. This blessed and holy man, then, seems to me, by the
pains he took, to have been the beginning of salvation to
my soul. His humility in his relations with me makes me
wonder; for he had spent, I believe, nearly forty years in
prayer, — it may be two or three years less, — and all his life
was ordered with that perfection which his state admitted.
His wife is so great a servant of God, and so full of charity,
that nothing is lost to him on her account,1 — in short, she
was the chosen wife of one who God knew would serve Him
so well. Some of their kindred are married to some of mine.
Besides, I had also much communication with another great
servant of God, married to one of my first cousins.
8. It was thus I contrived that the ecclesiastic I speak
of, who was so great a servant of God, and his great friend,
should come to speak to me, intending to confess to him,
and to take him for my director. When he had brought him
to speak to me, I, in the greatest confusion at finding myself
in the presence of so holy a man, revealed to him the state
of my soul, and my way of prayer. He would not be my
confessor ; he said that he was very much occupied : and so,
indeed, he was. He began with a holy resolution to direct
me as if I was strong, — I ought to have been strong, accord
ing to the method of prayer which he saw I used, — so that
I should in nothing offend God. When I saw that he was
resolved to make me break off at once with the petty ways
I spoke of before,2 and that I had not the courage to go
forth at once in the perfection he required of me, I was dis
tressed ; and when I perceived that he ordered the affairs of
my soul as if I ought to be perfect at once, I saw that much
more care was necessary in my case. In a word, I felt that
the means he would have employed were not those by which
my soul could be helped onwards ; for they were fitted for a
soul more perfect than mine; and though the graces I had
received from God were very many, I was still at the very
beginning in the matter of virtue and of mortification.
9. I believe certainly, if I had only had this ecclesiastic
to confer with, that my soul would have made no progress ;
for the pain it gave me to see that I was not doing — and, as
1 Dona Mencia del Aguila (De la Fuente, in a note on letter 10,
vol. ii. p. 9, where he corrects himself, — having previously called her
Mencia de Avila).
2 § 4.
164 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIII.
I thought, could not do — what he told me, was enough to
destroy all hope, and make me abandon the matter altogether.
I wonder at times how it was that he, being one who had a
particular grace for the direction of beginners in the way of
God, was not permitted to understand my case, or to under
take the care of my soul. I see it was all for my greater
good, in order that I might know and converse with persons
so holy as the members of the Society of Jesus.
10. After this, I arranged with that saintly nobleman
that he should come and see me now and then. It shows
how deep his humility was ; for he consented to converse
with a person so wicked as I was. He began his visits, he
encouraged me, and told me that I ought not to suppose
I could give up every thing in one day; God would bring it
about by degrees : he himself had for some years been unable
to free himself from some very slight imperfections. O
humility ! what great blessings thou bringest to those in whom
thou dwellest, and to them who draw near to those who
possess thee ! This holy man — for I think I may justly call
him so — told me of weaknesses of his own, in order to help
me. He, in his humility, thought them weaknesses ; but, if
we consider his state, they were neither faults nor imperfec
tions ; yet, in my state, it was a very great fault to be subject
to them.
11. I am not saying this without a meaning, though I
seem to be enlarging on trifles ; but these trifles contribute
so much towards the beginning of the soul's progress and its
flight upwards, though it has no wings, as they say; and yet
no one will believe it who has not had experience of it;
but, as I hope in God that your reverence will help many a
soul, I speak of it here. My whole salvation depended on his
knowing how to treat me, on his humility, on the charity
with which he conversed with me, and on his patient endur
ance of me when he saw that I did not mend my ways at once.
He went on discreetly, by degrees showing me how to over
come Satan. My affection for him so grew upon me, that I
never was more at ease than on the day I used to see him.
I saw him, however, very rarely. When he was long in
coming, I used to be very much distressed, thinking that he
would not see me because I was so wicked.
12. When he found out my great imperfections, — they
misrht well have been sins, though since I conversed with him
CH. XXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 165
I am somewhat improved, — and when I recounted to him,
in order to obtain light from him, the great graces which
God had bestowed upon me, he told me that these things
were inconsistent one with another ; that these consolations
were given to people who had made great progress, and led
mortified lives ; that he could not help being very much
afraid — he thought that the evil spirit might have something
to do in my case ; he would not decide that question, however,
but he would have me carefully consider my whole method
of prayer, and then tell him of it. That was the difficulty : I
did not understand it myself, and so I could tell him nothing
of my prayer; for the grace to understand it — and, under
standing it, to describe it — has only lately been given me ol
God. This saying of his, together with the fear I was in,
distressed me exceedingly, and I cried; for certainly I was
anxious to please God, and I could not persuade myself that
Satan had any thing to do with it. But I was afraid, on
account of my great sins, that God might leave me blind, so
that I should understand nothing.
13. Looking into books to see if I could find any thing
there by which I might recognise the prayer I practised, I
found in one of them, called the Ascent of the Mount,'1 and in
that part of it which relates to the union of the soul with God,
all those marks which I had in myself, in that I could not
think of any thing. This is what I most dwelt on — that I
could think of nothing when I was in prayer. I marked that
passage, and gave him the book, that he, and the ecclesiastic
mentioned before,2 saint and servant of God, might consider
it, and tell me what I should do. If they thought it right, I
would give up that method of prayer altogether; for why
should I expose myself to danger, when, at the end of nearly
twenty years, during which I had used it, I had gained
nothing, but had fallen into a delusion of the devil? It
was better for me to give it up. And yet this seemed to me
hard ; for I had already discovered what my soul would
become without prayer. Every thing seemed full of trouble
I was like a person in the middle of a river, who, in whatever
direction he may turn, fears a still greater danger, and is well-
nigh drowned. This is a very great trial, and I have gone
1 Subida del Monte Sion, by a Franciscan friar, Bernardino de
Laredo (Reforma, vol. i. lib. i. c. xix. § 7).
2 § 6.
166 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIII.
through many like it, as I shall show hereafter;1 and though
it does not seem to be of any importance, it will perhaps be
advantageous to understand how the spirit is to be tried.
14. And certainly the affliction to be borne is great, and
caution is necessary, particularly in the case of women, — for
our weakness is great, — and much evil may be the result of
telling them very distinctly that the devil is busy with them ;
yea, rather, the matter should be very carefully considered,
and they should be removed out of reach of the dangers that
may arise. They should be advised to keep things secret ;
and it is necessary, also, that their secret should be kept. I
am speaking of this as one to whom it has been a sore trouble ;
for some of those with whom I spoke of my prayer did not
keep my secret, but, making inquiries one of another, for a
good purpose, did me much harm ; for they made things
known which might well have remained secret, because not
intended for every one : and it seemed as if I had made them
public myself.2
15. I believe that our Lord permitted3 this to be done
without sin on their part, in order that I might suffer. I do
not say that they revealed any thing I discussed with them
in confession ; still, as they were persons to whom, in my fears,
I gave a full account of myself, in order that they might
give me light, I thought they ought to have been silent.
Nevertheless, I never dared to conceal any thing from such
persons. My meaning, then, is, that women should be directed
with much discretion ; their directors should encourage them,
and bide the time when our Lord will help them, as He
has helped me. If He had not, the greatest harm would have
befallen me, for I was in great fear and dread ; and as I
suffered from disease of the heart,4 I am astonished that all
this did not do me a great deal of harm.
16. Then, when I had given him the book, and told the
story of my life and of my sins, the best wray I could in
general, — for I was not in confession, because he was a lay
man ; yet I gave him clearly to understand how wicked I
was, — those two servants of God, with great charity and
affection, considered what was best for me. When they had
made up their minds what to say, — I was waiting for it in
great dread, having begged many persons to pray to God for
1 See ch. xxv. § 18 2 See ch. xxviii. § 18. 3 See Relation, vii. § 17.
4 See ch. iv. § 6.
CH. XXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 167
me, and I too had prayed much during those days, — the
nobleman came to me in great distress, and said that, in the
opinion of both, I was deluded by an evil spirit; that the
best thing for me to do was to apply to a certain father of
the Society of Jesus, who would come to me if I sent for
him, saying I had need of him; that I ought, in a general
confession, to give him an account of my whole life, and of
the state I was in, — and all with great clearness : God would,
in virtue of the Sacrament of Confession, give him more
light concerning me ; for those fathers were very experienced
men in matters of spirituality. Further, I was not to swerve
in a single point from the counsels of that father ; for I was in
great danger, if I had no one to direct me.
17. This answer so alarmed and distressed me, that I
knew not what to do — I did nothing but cry. Being in an ora
tory in great affliction, not knowing what would become of me,
I read in a book — it seemed as if our Lord had put it into
my hands — that S. Paul said, God is faithful;1 that He will
never permit Satan to deceive those who love Him. This
gave me great consolation. I began to prepare for my general
confession, and to write out all the evil and all the good :
a history of my life, as clearly as I understood it, and knew
how to make it, omitting nothing whatever. I remember,
when I saw I had written so much evil, and scarcely any
thing that was good, that I was exceedingly distressed and
sorrowful. It pained me, also, that the nuns of the community
should see me converse with such holy persons as those of
the Society of Jesus ; for I was afraid of my own wickedness,
and I thought I should be obliged to cease from it, and give
up my amusements ; and that if I did not do so, I should grow
worse : so I persuaded the sacristan and the portress to tell no
one of it. This was of little use, after all ; for when I was called
down there was one at the door, as it happened, who told it to
the whole convent. But what difficulties and what terrors
Satan troubles them with who would draw near unto God !
18. I communicated the whole state of my soul to that
servant of God2 — and he was a great servant of His, and
J 1 Cor. x. 13.
2 F. Juan de Padranos, whom S. Francis de Borja had sent in 1555,
with F. Fernando Alvarez del Aguila, to found the house of the So
ciety in Avila (De la Fuente'}. Ribera, i. 9, says he heard that F. Juan
de Padranos gave in part the Exercises of S. Ignatius to the Saint.
168 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIII.
very prudent. He understood all I told him, explained it to
me, and encouraged me greatly. He said that all was very
evidently the work of the Spirit of God ; only it was necessary
for me to go back again to my prayer, because I was not
well grounded, and had not begun to understand what morti
fication meant, — that was true, for I do not think I knew
it even by name, — that I was by no means to give up prayer;
on the contrary, I was to do violence to myself in order to
practise it, because God had bestowed on me such special
graces as made it impossible to say whether it was, or was not,
the will of our Lord to do good to many through me. He
went further, for he seems to have prophesied of that which
our Lord afterwards did with me, and said that I should be
very much to blame if I did not correspond with the graces
which God bestowed upon me. It seems to me that the Holy
Ghost was speaking by his mouth in order to heal my soul, so
deep was the impression he made. He made me very much
ashamed of myself, and directed me by a way which seemed to
change me altogether. What a grand thing it is to understand
a soul ! He told me to make my prayer every day on some
mystery of the Passion, and that I should profit by it, and
to fix my thoughts on the Sacred Humanity only, resisting to
the utmost of my power those recollections and delights, to
which I was not to yield in any way till he gave me further
directions in the matter.
19. He left me consoled and fortified : our Lord came to
my succour and to his, so that he might understand the state
I was in, and how he was to direct me. I made a firm resolu
tion not to swerve from any thing he might command me, and
to this day I have kept it. Our Lord be praised, who has
given me grace to be obedient to my confessors,1 however
imperfectly ! — and they have almost always been those blessed
men of the Society of Jesus; though, as I said, I have but
imperfectly obeyed them. My soul began to improve visibly
as I am now going to say.
1 See Relation, i. § 9.
'I'M llll) FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye' Hoys, del.
1. Ruins of the Chateau of Malagon, formerly the residence of Luisa de la
Cerda. On the left, the parish church. 2. The same church, seen from the front.
3. Church and Monastery of the Carmelites. Harvest scenes. 4. Oratory erected
above the stone on which St. Teresa sat to oversee the building- of the convent.
5. Wicket for Holy Communion in the grille of the choir. 6. Iron stamp used by
St. Teresa in cutting- the Hosts. 7. Statue of St. Teresa in the cell which she
occupied. 8. Chest with three locks containing- the papers of the monastery.
ST. JOSEPH AT MALAGON.
IX.
Bruges. P J\acmx, Sc.
V V!rtr,ait of Anne of St. Augustine. 10. Reliquary containing a finger of Anne
°Lbt' Augustine. 11. Hospice of the Discalced Carmelites and outer door of the
offices of the Carmelite monastery. 12. Arms of the Saavedra family, the family of
LUiSa de la Cerda's husband. 13. Arms of the de la Cerda family. 14. Arms of
the family of Biedma, also called Benavides, patrons of the church of the Carmelites
and relatives of St. Teresa. 15. Arms of Arias Pardo, Baron of Malagon. (See
CH. XXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 169
CHAPTER XXIV.
PROGRESS UNDER OBEDIENCE HER INABILITY TO RESIST THE
GRACES OF GOD GOD MULTIPLIES HIS GRACES.
1. AFTER this my confession, my soul was so docile that,
as it seems to me, there was nothing in the world I was not
prepared to undertake. I began at once to make a change in
many things, though my confessor never pressed me — on
the contrary, he seemed to make light of it all. I was the
more influenced by this, because he led me on by the way of
the love of God ; he left me free, and did not press me, unless
I did so myself, out of love. I continued thus nearly two
months, doing all I could to resist the sweetness and graces
that God sent. As to my outwrard life, the change was visible ;
for our Lord gave me courage to go through with certain
things, of which those who knew me — and even those in the
community — said that they seemed to them extreme ; and,
indeed, compared with what I had been accustomed to do,
they were extreme : people, therefore, had reason to say so.
Yet, in those things which were of obligation, considering the
habit I wore, and the profession I had made, I was still
deficient. By resisting the sweetness and joys which God
sent me, I gained this, that His Majesty taught me Himself;
for, previously, I used to think that, in order to obtain sweet
ness in prayer, it was necessary for me to hide myself in secret
places, and so I scarcely dared to stir. Afterwards, I saw
how little that was to the purpose ; for the more I tried to
distract myself, the more our Lord poured over me that sweet
ness and joy which seemed to me to be flowing around me,
so that I could not in any way escape from it : and so it was.
I was so careful about this resistance, that it was a pain to me.
But our Lord was more careful to show His mercies, and
during those two months to reveal Himself more than before,
so that I might the better comprehend that it was no longer
in my powrer to resist Him.
2. I began with a renewed love of the most Sacred
Humanity ; my prayer began to be solid, like a house, the
foundations of which are strong; and I was inclined to
practise greater penance, having been negligent in this matter
170 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIV.
hitherto because of my great infirmities. The holy man who
heard my confession told me that certain penances would not
hurt me, and that God perhaps sent me so much sickness
because I did no penance; His Majesty would therefore
impose it Himself. He ordered me to practise certain acts
of mortification not very pleasant for me.1 I did so, because
I felt that our Lord was enjoining it all, and giving him grace
to command me in such a way as to make me obedient
unto him.
3. My soul was now sensitive to every offence I
committed against God, however slight it might be; so much
so, that if I had any superfluity about me, I could not recollect
myself in prayer till I had got rid of it. I prayed earnestly
that our Lord would hold me by the hand, and not suffer
me to fall again, now that I was under the direction of His
servants. I thought that would be a great evil, and that they
would lose their credit through me .
4. At this time, Father Francis who was Duke of
Gandia,2 came here ; he had left all he possessed some years
before, and had entered the Society of Jesus. My confessor,
and the nobleman of whom I spoke before,3 contrived that
he should visit me, in order that I might speak to him, and
give him an account of my way of prayer; for they knew him
to be greatly favoured and comforted of God : he had given
up much, and was rewarded for it even in this life. When
he had heard me, he said to me that it \vas the work of the
Spirit of God,4 and that he thought it wras not right now to
prolong that resistance ; that hitherto it had been safe enough,
— only, I should always begin my prayer by meditating on
some part of the Passion ; and that if our Lord should then
raise up my spirit, I should make no resistance, but suffer
His Majesty to raise it upwards, I myself not seeking it.
He gave both medicine and advice, as one who had made
great progress himself; for experience is very important in
1 The Saint now treated her body with extreme severity, disciplin
ing herself even unto blood (Rcfonna, vol. i. lib. i. c. xx. § 4).
2 S. Francis de Borja came to Avila, where S. Teresa lived, in
1557 (De la Fuente}. This passage must have been written after the
foundation of S. Joseph, for it was not in the first Life, as the Saint
says, ch. x. § 11, that she kept secret the names of herself and all
others.
3 Ch. xxiii. § 6. * See Relation, viii. § 6.
CH. XXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 171
these matters. He said that further resistance would be a
mistake. I was exceedingly consoled; so, too, was the
nobleman, who rejoiced greatly when he was told that it was
the work of God. He always helped me and gave me advice
according to his power, — and that power was great.
5. At this time, they changed my confessor's residence.
I felt it very much, for I thought I should go back to my
wickedness, and that it was not possible to find another such
as he. My soul was, as it were, in a desert, most sorrowful
and afraid. I knew not what to do with myself. One of my
kinswomen contrived to get me into her house, and I contrived
at once to find another confessor1 in the Society of Jesus. It
pleased our Lord that I should commence a friendship with a
noble lady,2 a widow, much given to prayer, who had much to
do with the fathers. She made her own confessor3 hear me,
and I remained in her house some days. She lived near, and
I delighted in the many conferences I had with the fathers ;
for merely by observing the holiness of their way of life, I felt
that my soul profited exceedingly.
6. This father began by putting me in the way of greater
perfection. He used to say to me, that I ought to leave
nothing undone that I might be wholly pleasing unto God.
He was, however, very prudent and very gentle at the same
time ; for my soul was not at all strong, but rather very weak,
especially as to giving up certain friendships, though I did
not offend God by them : there was much natural affection
in them, and I thought it would be an act of ingratitude if
I broke them off. And so, as I did not offend God, I asked
him if I must be ungrateful. He told me to lay the matter
before God for a few days, and recite the hymn, "Veni,
Creator," that God might enlighten me as to the better course.
* Who he was is not certainly known. The Bollandists decline to
give an opinion; but F. Bouix thinks it was F. Ferdinand Alvarez,
who became her confessor on the removal of F. Jaun de Padranos,
and that it was to him she confessed till she placed herself under the
direction of F. Baltasar Alvarez, the confessor of Dona Guiomar, as it
is stated in the next paragraph, — unless the confessor there mentioned
was F. Ferdinand.
2 Dona Guiomar de Ulloa. See below, ch. xxxii. § 13.
8 If this confessor was F. Baltasar Alvarez, the Saint, F. Bouix
observes, passes rapidly over the history of the year 1557, and the
greater part, perhaps, of 1558; for F. Baltasar was ordained priest
only in the latter year.
172 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIV.
One day, having prayed for some time, and implored our Lord
to help me to please Him in all things, I began the hymn ;
and as I was saying it, I fell into a trance — so suddenly,
that I was, as it were, carried out of myself. I could have
no doubt about it, for it was most plain.
7. This was the first time that our Lord bestowed on me
the grace of ecstasy. I heard these words : "I will not have
thee converse with men, but with angels." This made me
wonder very much ; for the commotion of my spirit was
great, and these words were uttered in the very depth of
my soul. They made me afraid, — though, on the other hand,
they gave me great comfort, which, when I had lost the fear,
— caused, I believe, by the strangeness of the visitation, —
remained with me.
8. Those words have been fulfilled ; for I have never
been able to form friendship with, nor have any comfort in
nor any particular love for, any persons whatever, except
those who, as I believe, love God, and who strive to serve
Him. It has not been in my power to do it. It is nothing
to me that they are my kindred, or my friends, if I do not
know them to be lovers of God, or persons given to prayer.
It is to me a painful cross to converse with any one. This
is the truth, so far as I can judge.1 From that day forth,
I have had courage so great as to leave all things for God,
who in one moment — and it seems to me but a moment —
was pleased to change His servant into another person.
Accordingly, there was no necessity for laying further com
mands upon me in this matter. When my confessor saw how
much I clung to these friendships, he did not venture to bid
me distinctly to give them up. He must have waited till our
Lord did the work — as He did Himself. Nor did I think
myself that I could succeed ; for I had tried before, and the
pain it gave me was so great that 'I abandoned the attempt,
on the ground that there was nothing unseemly in those
attachments. Now our Lord set me at liberty, and gave me
strength also to use it.
9. So I told my confessor of it, and gave up every thing,
according to his advice. It did a great deal of good to those
with whom I used to converse, to see my determination.
God be blessed forever ! who in one moment set me free,
while I had been for many years making many efforts, and
1 See Relation, i, § 6.
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 173
had never succeeded, very often also doing such violence to
myself as injured my health; but, as it was done by Him who
is almighty, and the true Lord of all, it gave me no pain
whatever.
CHAPTER XXV.
DIVINE LOCUTIONS — DELUSIONS ON THAT SUBJECT.
1. IT will be as well, I think, to explain these locutions
of God, and to describe what the soul feels when it receives
them, in order that you, my father, may understand the
matter; for ever since that time of which I am speaking,
when our Lord granted me that grace, it has been an ordinary
occurrence until now, as will appear by what I have yet to
say.1
2. The words are very distinctly formed; but by the
bodily ear they are not heard. They are, however, much more
clearly understood than they would be if they were heard
by the ear. It is impossible not to understand them, what
ever resistance we may offer. When we wish not to hear
any thing in this world, we can stop our ears, or give our
attention to something else : so that, even if we do hear, at
least we can refuse to understand. In this locution of God
addressed to the soul there is no escape, for in spite of our
selves we must listen; and the understanding must apply
itself so thoroughly to the comprehension of that which God
1 Philip, a SS. Trinitate, Theolog. Mystic, par. 2, tr. iii. art. v.: "Tres
sunt modi divinse locutionis; completur enim divina locutio vel verbis
successivis, vel verbis formalibus, vel verbis substantialibus. Com
pletur verbis successivis cum anima in semetipsa multum collecta
quosdam discursus internes de Deo vel de aliis divina format direc-
tione, hujusmodi quippe discursus, quamvis ab ipsa sibi formati, a
Doe tamen dirigente procedunt. Completur verbis formalibus cum
anima vel in se collecta, vel aliis occupata, percipit qusedam verba
formaliter ac distincte divinitus expressa, ad quorum formationem
anima passive penitus se habet. Completur verbis substantialibus cum
anima vel in se collecta, vel etiam distracta, percipit qusedam verba
viva et efficacia, divinitus ad se directa, qua virtutem aut substantialem
effectum per ipsa significatum fortiter ac infallibiliter causant." See
also S. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel, b. ii. ch. xxviii. and
the following.
174 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXV.
wills we should hear, that it is nothing to the purpose whether
we will it or not; for it is His will, who can do all things.
We should understand that His will must be done; and He
reveals Himself as our true Lord, having dominion over us.
I know this by much experience ; for my resistance lasted
nearly two years,1 because of the great fear I was in; and
even now I resist occasionally; but it is of no use.
3. I should like to explain the delusions which may
happen here, though he who has had much experience will
run little or no risk, I think; but the experience must be
great. I should like to explain also how those locutions
which come from the Good Spirit differ from those which
come from an evil spirit ; and, further, how they may be but
an apprehension of the understanding, — for that is possible,
— or even words which the mind addressed to itself. I do
not know if it be so; but even this very day I thought it
possible. I know by experience in many ways when these
locutions come from God. I have been told things two or
three years beforehand, which have all come to pass ; and in
none of them have I been hitherto deceived. There are also
other things in which the Spirit of God may be clearly traced,
as I shall relate by and by.2
4. It seems to me that a person commending a matter to
God with great love and earnestness may think that he
hears in some way or other whether his prayer will be
granted or not, and it is not impossible; but he who has
heard the divine locution will see clearly enough what this
is, because there is a great difference between the two. If
it be any thing which the understanding has fashioned, how
ever cunningly it may have done so, he sees that it is the
understanding which has arranged that locution, and that it
is speaking of itself. This is nothing else but a word uttered
by one, and listened to by another : in that case, the under
standing will see that it has not been listening only, but
also forming the words ; and the words it forms are some
thing indistinct, fantastic, and not clear like the divine locu
tions. It is in our power to turn away our attention from
these locutions of our own, just as we can be silent when we
1 From 1555 to 1557, when the Saint was advised by S. Francis de
Borja to make no further resistance (BouLv).
J8 Ch. xxvi. 8 4.
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 175
are speaking; but, with respect to the former, that cannot be
done.
5. There is another test more decisive still. The words
formed by the understanding effect nothing; but, when our
Lord speaks, it is at once word and work; and though the
words may not be meant to stir up our devotion, but are
rather words of reproof, they dispose a soul at once,
strengthen it, make it tender, give it light, console and calm
it; and if it should be in dryness, or in trouble and uneasiness,
all is removed, as if by the action of a hand, and even better;
for it seems as if our Lord would have the soul understand
that He is all-powerful, and that His words are deeds.
6. It seems to me that there is as much difference
between these two locutions as there is between speaking
and listening, neither more nor less ; for when I speak, as
I have just said,1 I go on with my understanding arranging
what I am saying; but if I am spoken to by others, I do
nothing else but listen, without any labour. The human
locution is as something which we cannot well make out,
as if we were half asleep ; but the divine locution is a voice
so clear that not a syllable of its utterance is lost. It
may occur, too, when the understanding and the soul are
so troubled and distracted that they cannot form one sen
tence correctly ; and yet grand sentences, perfectly arranged,
such as the soul in its most recollected state never could
have formed, are uttered, and at the first word, as I said,2
change it utterly. Still less could it have formed them if
they are uttered in an ecstasy, when the faculties of the soul
are suspended; for how should the soul then comprehend any
thing, when it remembers nothing? — yea, rather, how can
it remember them then, when the memory can hardly do any
thing at all, and the imagination is, as it were, suspended?
7. But it is to be observed, that if we see visions and
hear words it never is as at the time when the soul is in
union in the very rapture itself, — so it seems to me. At
that moment, as I have shown, — I think it was when I was
speaking of the second water,3 — all the faculties of the soul
1 § 4. 2 § 9.
3 The doctrine here laid down is not that of the second water, —
ch. xiv and xv., — but that of the third, ch. xvi. The Saint herself
speaks doubtfully; and as she had but little time for writing, she
could not correct nor read again what she had written (De la Fuente}.
176 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXV.
are suspended; and, as I think, neither vision, nor under
standing, nor hearing, is possible at that time. The soul is
then wholly in the power of another; and in that instant —
a very brief one, in my opinion — our Lord leaves it free
for nothing whatever; but when this instant is passed, the
soul continuing still entranced, then is the time of which
I am speaking; for the faculties, though not completely
suspended, are so disposed that they are scarcely active,
being, as it were, absorbed, and incapable of making any
reflections.
8. There are so many ways of ascertaining the nature
of these locutions, that if a person be once deceived, he
will not be deceived often. I mean, that a soul accustomed
to them, and on its guard, will most clearly see what they
are; for, setting other considerations aside which prove what
I have said, the human locution produces no effect, neither
does the soul accept it, — though it must admit the other,
whether we like it or not, — nor does it believe it; on the
contrary, it is known to be a delusion of the understanding,
and is therefore put away as we would put away the ravings
of a lunatic.
9. But as to the divine locution, we listen to that as
we do to a person of great holiness, learning, or authority,
whom we know to be incapable of uttering a falsehood. And
yet this is an inadequate illustration; for these locutions
proceed occasionally in such great majesty that, without
our recollecting who it is that utters them, they make us
tremble if they be words of reproof, and die of love if words
of love. They are also, as I have said,1 matters of which
the memory has not the least recollection; and expressions
so full are uttered so rapidly, that much time must have been
spent in arranging them, if we formed them ourselves; and
so it seems to me that we cannot possibly be ignorant at
the time that we have never formed them ourselves at all.
10. There is no reason, therefore, why I should dwell
longer on this matter. It is a wonder to me that any ex
perienced person, unless he deliberately chooses to do so,
can fall into delusions. It has often happened to me, when
I had doubts, to distrust what I heard, and to think that
it was all imagination, — but this I did afterwards ; for at
the moment that is impossible, — and at a later time to see
J§6.
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 177
the whole fulfilled; for our Lord makes the words dwell in
the memory so that they cannot be forgotten. Now, that
which comes forth from our understanding is, as it were,
the first movement of thought, which passes away and is
forgotten ; but the divine locution is a work done ; and though
some of it may be forgotten, and time have lapsed, yet is it
not so wholly forgotten that the memory loses all traces
of what was once spoken, — unless, indeed, after a very long
time, or unless the locution were words of grace or of in
struction. But as to prophetic words, they are never for
gotten, in my opinion; at least, I have never forgotten any, —
and yet my memory is weak.
11. I repeat it, unless a soul be so wicked as to pretend
that it has these locutions, which would be a great sin, and
say that it hears divine words when it hears nothing of the
kind, it cannot possibly fail to see clearly that itself arranges
the words, and utters them to itself. That seems to me
altogether impossible for any soul that has ever known the
Spirit of God. If it has not, it may continue all its life long
in this delusion, and imagine that it hears and understands,
though I know not how that can be. A soul desires to hear
these locutions, or it does not; if it does not, it is distressed
because it hears them, and is unwilling to listen to them,
because of a thousand fears which they occasion, and for
many other reasons it has for being quiet in prayer without
these interruptions. How is it that the understanding has
time enough to arrange these locutions? They require time.
12. But, on the other side, the divine locutions instruct
us without loss of time, and we understand matters which
seem to require a month on our part to arrange. The under
standing itself, and the soul, stand amazed at some of the
things we understand. So it is; and he who has any ex
perience of it will see that what I am saying is literally true.
I give God thanks that I have been able thus to explain it.
I end by saying that, in my opinion, we may hear the locu
tions that proceed from the understanding whenever we like,
and think that we hear them whenever we pray. But it is
not so with the divine locutions : for many days I may desire to
hear them, and I cannot; and at other times, even when I
would not, as I said before,1 hear them, I must. It seems
to me that any one disposed to deceive people by saying
1 § 2.
178 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXV.
that he heard from God that which he has invented himself,
might as easily say that he heard it with his bodily ears. It is
most certainly true that I never imagined there was any other
way of hearing or understanding till I had proof of it in
myself; and so, as I said before,1 it gave me trouble enough.
13. Locutions that come from Satan not only do not
leave any good effects behind, but do leave evil effects. This
has happened to me; but not more than two or three times.
Our Lord warned me at once that they came from Satan.
Over and above the great aridity which remains in the soul
after these evil locutions, there is also a certain disquiet, such
as I have had on many other occasions, when, by our Lord's
permission, I fell into great temptations and travail of soul
in diverse ways; and though I am in trouble often enough,
as I shall show hereafter,2 yet this disquiet is such that I
know not whence it comes; only the soul seems to resist,
is troubled and distressed, without knowing why ; for the
words of Satan are good and not evil. I am thinking whether
this may not be so because one spirit is conscious of the
presence of another.
14. The sweetness and joy which Satan gives are, in my
opinion, of a very different kind. By means of these sweet
nesses he may deceive any one who does not, or who never
did, taste of the sweetness of God, — by which I mean a certain
sweet, strong, impressive, delightsome, and calm refreshing.
Those little, fervid bursts of tears, and other slight emotions,
—for at the first breath of persecution these little flowers
wither, — I do not call devotion, though they are a good
beginning, and are holy impressions ; but they are not a
test to determine whether these locutions come from a good
or an evil spirit. It is therefore best for us to proceed
always with great caution ; for those persons who have ad
vanced in prayer only so far as this may most easily fall
into delusions, if they have visions or revelations. For my
self, I never had a single vision or revelation till God had
led me on to the prayer of union, — unless it be on that
occasion, of which I have spoken before,3 now many years
ago, when I saw our Lord. Oh, that His Majesty had been
pleased to let me then understand that it was a true vision,
as I have since understood it was ! it would have been no
slight blessing to me.
1 Ch. vii. § 12. 2 Ch. xxviii. § 7, ch. xxx. § 7. 3 Ch. vii. § 11.
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 179
15. After these locutions of the evil one, the soul is
never gentle, but is, as it were, terrified, and greatly dis
gusted.
16. I look upon it as a most certain truth, that the
devil will never deceive, and that God will not suffer him
to deceive, that soul which has no confidence whatever in
itself; which is strong in faith, and resolved to undergo a
thousand deaths for any one article of the creed ; wrhich in
its love of the faith, infused of God once for all, — a faith living
and strong — always labours, seeking for further light on this
side and on that, to mould itself on the teaching of the
Church, as one already deeply grounded in the truth. No
imaginable revelations, not even if it saw the heavens open,
could make that soul swerve in any degree from the doctrine
of the Church. If, however, it should at any time find itself
wavering even in thought on this point, or stopping to say to
itself, If God says this to me, it may be true, as well as what
He said to the Saints, — the soul must not be sure of it. I do
not mean that it so believes, only that Satan has taken
the first step towards tempting it; and the giving way to
the first movements of a thought like this is evidently most
wrong. I believe, however, that these first movements will not
take place if the soul is so strong in the matter — as that
soul is to whom our Lord sends these graces — that it seems
as if it could crush the evil spirits in defence of the very least
of the truths which the Church holds.
17. If the soul does not discern this great strength in
itself, and if the particular devotion or vision help it not
onwards, then it must not look upon it as safe. For though
at first the soul is conscious of no harm, great harm may by
degrees ensue; because, so far as I can see, and by experience
understand, that which purports to come from God is to be
received only in so far as it corresponds with the sacred
writings ; but if it varies therefrom ever so little, I am
incomparably more convinced that it comes from Satan than
I am now convinced it comes from God, however deep that
conviction may be. In this case, there is no need to ask for
signs, nor from what spirit it proceeds, because this varying
is so clear a sign of the devil's presence, that if all the world
were to assure me that it came from God, I would not believe
it. The fact is, that all good seems to be lost out of sight,
and to have fled from the soul, when the devil has spoken
180 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXV.
to it; the soul is thrown into a state of disgust, and is
troubled, able to do no good thing whatever — for if it con
ceives good desires, they are not strong; its humility is ficti
tious, disturbed, and without sweetness. Any one who has
ever tasted of the Spirit of God will, I think, understand it.
18. Nevertheless, Satan has many devices ; and so there
is nothing more certain than that it is safer to be afraid, and
always on our guard, under a learned director, from whom
nothing is concealed. If we do this, no harm can befall us,
though much has befallen me through the excessive fears
which possessed some people. For instance, it happened so
once to me, when many persons in whom I had great con
fidence, and with good reason, had assembled together, — five
or six in number, I think, — and all very great servants of
God. It is true, my relations were with one of them only;
but by his orders I made my state known to the others.
They had many conferences together about my necessities;
for they had a great affection for me, and were afraid I was
under a delusion. I, too, was very much afraid whenever
I was not occupied in prayer; but when I prayed, and our
Lord bestowed His graces upon me, I was instantly reassured.
My confessor told me they were all of opinion that I was de
ceived by Satan; that I must communicate less frequently,
and contrive to distract myself in such a way as to be less
alone.
19. I was in great fear myself, as I have just said, and my
disease of the heart1 contributed thereto, so that very often
I did not dare to remain alone in my cell during the day.
When I found so many maintain this, and myself unable to
believe them, I had at once a most grievous scruple ; for it
seemed to me that I had very little humility, especially as
they all led lives incomparably better than mine : they were
also learned men. Why should I not believe them? I did
all I could to believe them. I reflected on my wicked life,
and therefore what they said to me must be true.
20. In this distress, I quitted the church,2 and entered an
oratory. I had not been to Communion for many days, nor
had I been alone, which was all my comfort. I had no one
to speak to, for every one was against me. Some, I thought,
1 Ch. iv. § 6, ch. v. § 14.
2 It was the church of the Jesuits (Bouix}.
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 181
made a mock of me when I spoke to them of my prayer, as
if I were a person under delusions of the imagination ; others
warned my confessor to be on his guard against me ; and
some said it was clear the whole was an operation of Satan.
My confessor, though he agreed with them for the sake of
trying me, as I understood afterwards, always comforted me:
and he alone did so. He told me that, if I did not offend
God, my prayer, even if it was the work of Satan, could do
me no harm; that I should be delivered from it. He bade
me pray much to God: he himself, and all his penitents, and
many others did so earnestly ; I, too, with all my might, and
as many as I knew to be servants of God, prayed that His
Majesty would be pleased to lead me by another way. This
lasted, I think, about two years; and this was the subject
of my continual prayer to our Lord.
21. But there was no comfort for me when I thought
of the possibility that Satan could speak to me so often. Now
that I was never alone for prayer, our Lord made me
recollected even during conversation : He spoke what He
pleased, — I could not avoid it; and though it distressed me,
I was forced to listen. I was by myself, having no one in
whom I could find any comfort; unable to pray or read, like
a person stunned by heavy trials, and by the dread that the
evil one had deluded me ; utterly disquieted and wearied, not
knowing what would become of me. I have been occasionally
— yea, very often — in distress, but never before in distress so
great. I was in this state for four or five hours ; there was
no comfort for me, either from heaven or on earth — only our
Lord left me to suffer, afraid of a thousand dangers.
22. O my Lord, how true a friend art Thou ! how
powerful ! Thou showest Thy power when Thou wilt ; and
Thou dost will it always, if only we will it also. Let the
whole creation praise Thee, O Thou Lord of the world ! Oh,
that a voice might go forth over all the earth, proclaiming
Thy faithfulness to those who love Thee! All things fail;
but Thou, Lord of all, never failest! They who love Thee,
oh, how little they have to suffer! oh, how gently, how ten
derly, howr sweetly Thou, O my Lord, dealest with them !
Oh, that no one had ever been occupied with any other love
than Thine! It seems as if Thou didst subject those who
love Thee to a severe trial ; but it is in order that they may
learn, in the depths of that trial, the depths of Thy love.
182 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXV.
O my God, oh, that I had understanding and learning, and a
new language, in order to magnify Thy works, according
to the knowledge of them which my soul possesses ! Every
thing fails me, O my Lord; but if Thou wilt not abandon
me, I will never fail Thee. Let all the learned rise up against
me, — let the whole creation persecute me, — let the evil spirits
torment me,— but do Thou, O Lord, fail me not; for I know
by experience now the blessedness of that deliverance which
Thou dost effect for those who trust only in Thee. In this
distress, — for then I had never had a single vision, — these
Thy words alone were enough to remove it, and give me
perfect peace : "Be not afraid, my daughter: it is I ; and I
will not abandon thee. Fear not."1
23. It seems to me that, in the state I wyas in then, many
hours would have been necessary to calm me, and that no
one could have done it. Yet I found myself, through these
words alone, tranquil and strong, courageous and confident,
at rest and enlightened ; in a moment, my soul seemed
changed, and I felt I could maintain against all the world
that my prayer was the work of God. Oh, how good is
God ! how good is our Lord, and how powerful ! He gives
not counsel only, but relief as well. His words are deeds.
O my God ! as He strengthens our faith, love grows. So
it is, in truth ; for I used frequently to recollect how our
Lord, when the tempest arose, commanded the winds to be
still over the sea.2 So I said to myself: Who is He, that
all my faculties should thus obey Him? Who is He, that
gives light in such darkness in a moment ; who softens a
heart that seemed to be made of stone ; who gives the waters
of sweet tears, where for a long time great dryness seems
to have prevailed ; who inspires these desires ; who bestows
this courage? What have I been thinking of? what am I
afraid of? what is it? I desire to serve this my Lord; I aim at
nothing else but His pleasure; I seek no joy, no rest, no
other good than that of doing His will. I was so confident
that I had no other desire, that I could safely assert it.
24. Seeing, then, that our Lord is so powerful, — as I
see and know He is, — and that the evil spirits are His slaves,
— of which there can be no doubt, because it is of faith, —
and I a servant of this our Lord and King, — what harm can
Satan do unto me? Why have I not strength enough to
1 See Inner Fortress, vi. 3, 5. 2 S. Matt. viii. 26.
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 183
fight against all hell? I took up the cross in my hand, —
I was changed in a moment into another person, and it seemed
as if God had really given me courage enough not to be
afraid of encountering all the evil spirits. It seemed to me
that I could, with the cross, easily defeat them altogether.
So I cried out, Come on, all of you ; I am the servant of our
Lord : I should like to see what you can do against me.
25. And certainly they seemed to be afraid of me, for
I was left in peace : I feared them so little, that the terrors,
which until now oppressed me, quitted me altogether; and,
though I saw them occasionally, — I shall speak of this by
and by,1 — I was never again afraid of them — on the contrary,
they seemed to be afraid of me.2 I found myself endowed
with a certain authority over them, given me by the Lord
of all, so that I cared no more for them than for flies.
They seem to be such cowards ; for their strength fails them
at the sight of any one who despises them. These enemies
have not the courage to assail any but those whom they
see ready to give in to them, or when God permits them
to do so, for the greater good of His servants, whom they
may try and torment.
26. May it please His Majesty that we fear Him whom
we ought to fear,3 and understand that one venial sin can
do us more harm than all hell together; for that is the truth.
The evil spirits keep us in terror, because we expose our
selves to the assaults of terror by our attachments to honours,
possessions, and pleasures. For then the evil spirits, uniting
themselves writh us, — we become our own enemies when
we love and seek what we ought to hate, — do us great harm.
We ourselves put weapons into their hands, that they may
assail us ; those very weapons with which we should defend
ourselves. It is a great pity. But if, for the love of God,
we hated all this, and embraced the cross, and set about
His service in earnest, Satan would fly away before such
realities, as from the plague. He is the friend of lies, and a
lie himself.4 He will have nothing to do with those who walk
in the truth. When he sees the understanding of any one
obscured, he simply helps to pluck out his eyes ; if he sees any
1 Ch. xxxi. § 1.
• S. John of the Cross, Spiritual Canticle, st. 24, p. 128, Engl. trans.
3 S. Matt. x. 26, 28. " S. John viii. 44.
184 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVI.
one already blind, seeking peace in vanities, — for all the things
of this world are so utterly vanity, that they seem to be but the
playthings of a child, — he sees at once that such a one is a
child; he treats him as a child, and ventures to wrestle with
him — not once, but often.
27. May it please our Lord that I be not one of these;
and may His Majesty give me grace to take that for peace
which is really peace, that for honour which is really honour,
and that for delight which is really a delight. Let me
never mistake one thing for another — and then I snap my
fingers at all the devils, for they shall be afraid of me. I
do not understand those terrors which make us cry out, Satan
Satan ! when we may say, God, God ! and make Satan tremble.
Do we not know that he cannot stir without the permission
of God? What does it mean? I am really much more afraid
of those people who have so great a fear of the devil, than I
am of the devil himself. Satan can do me no harm whatever,
but they can trouble me very much, particularly if they be
confessors. I have spent some years of such great anxiety,
that even now I am amazed that I was able to bear it. Blessed
be our Lord, who has so effectually helped me!
CHAPTER XXVI.
HOW THE FEARS OF THE SAINT VANISHED HOW SHE WAS
ASSURED THAT HER PRAYER WAS THE WORK OF THE HOLY
SPIRIT.
1. I LOOK upon the courage which our Lord has im
planted in me against evil spirits as one of the greatest
mercies which He has bestowed upon me; for a cowardly
soul, afraid of any thing but sin against God, is a very un
seemly thing, when we have on our side the King omnipotent,
our Lord most high, who can do all things, and subjects
all things to Himself. There is nothing to be afraid of if
we walk, as I said before,1 in the truth, in the sight of His
Majesty, with a pure conscience. And for this end, as I
said in the same place, I would have myself all fears, that I
may not for one instant offend Him who in that instant is
1 Ch. xxv. § 26.
CH. XXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 185
able to destroy us. If His Majesty is pleased with us,
whoever resists us — be he who he may — will be utterly dis
appointed.
2. It may be so, you will say; but, then, where is that
soul so just as to please Him in every thing? — and that is
the reason why we are afraid. Certainly it is not my soul,
which is most wretched, unprofitable, and full of misery.
God is not like man in His ways ; He knows our weakness.
But the soul perceives, by the help of certain great signs,
whether it loves God of a truth; for the love of those souls
who have come to this state is not hidden, as it was at
first, but is full of high impulses, and of longings for the
vision of God, as I shall show hereafter — or rather, as I have
shown already.1 Every thing wearies, every thing distresses,
every thing torments the soul, unless it be suffered writh God,
or for God. There is no rest which is not a weariness, because
the soul knows itself to be away from its true rest; and so
love is made most manifest, and, as I have just said, im
possible to hide.
3. It happened to me, on another occasion, to be griev
ously tried, and much spoken against on account of a cer
tain affair, — of which I will speak hereafter,2 — by almost
every body in the place where I am living, and by the
members of my Order. AVhen I was in this distress, and
afflicted by many occasions of disquiet wherein I was placed,
our Lord spoke to me, saying: "What art thou afraid of?
knowest thou not that I am almighty? I will do what I have
promised thee." And so, afterwards, was it done. I found
myself at once so strong, that I could have undertaken any
thing, so it seemed, immediately, even if I had to endure
greater trials for His service, and had to enter on a new state
of suffering. These locutions are so frequent, that I cannot
count them ; many of them are reproaches, and He sends
them when I fall into imperfections. They are enough to
destroy a soul. They correct me, however; for His Majesty
• — as I said before3 — gives both counsel and relief. There
are others which bring my former sins into remembrance, —
particularly when He is about to bestow upon me some
special grace, — in such a way that the soul beholds itself
1 Ch. xv. § 6.
2 Ch. xxviii.; the foundation of the house of S. Joseph.
3 Ch. xxv. S 23.
186 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVI.
as being really judged; for those reproaches of God put
the truth before it so distinctly, that it knows not what to do
with itself. Some are warnings against certain dangers to my
self or others ; many of them are prophecies of future things,
three or four years beforehand ; and all of them have been ful
filled : some of them I could mention. Here, then, are so
many reasons for believing that they come from God, as make
it impossible, I believe, for any body to mistake them.
4. The safest course in these things is to declare, without
fail, the whole state of the soul, together with the graces
our Lord gives me, to a confessor who is learned, and obey
him. I do so; and if I did not, I should have no peace.
Nor is it right that we women, who are unlearned, should
have any : there can be no danger in this, but rather great
profit. This is what our Lord has often commanded me
to do, and it is what I have often done. I had a confessor1
who mortified me greatly, and now and then distressed me :
he tried me heavily, for he disquieted me exceedingly; and
yet he was the one who, I believe, did me the most good.
Though I had a great affection for him, I was occasionally
tempted to leave him; I thought that the pain he inflicted
on me disturbed my prayer. Whenever I was resolved on
leaving him, I used to feel instantly that I ought not to do so ;
and one reproach of our Lord would press more heavily upon
me than all that my confessor did. Now and then, I was worn
out — torture on the one hand, reproaches on the other. I
required it all, for my will was but little subdued. Our Lord
said to me once, that there was no obedience where there
was no resolution to suffer; that I was to think of His suffer
ings, and then every thing would be easy.
5. One of my confessors, to whom I went in the begin
ning, advised me once, now that my spiritual state was
known to be the work of God, to keep silence, and not speak
of these things to any one, on the ground that it was safer
to keep these graces secret. To me, the advice seemed good,
because I felt it so much whenever I had to speak of them
1 The Bollandists, n. 185, attribute some of the severity with which
her confessor treated the Saint to the spirit of desolation with which
he was then tried himself; and, in proof of it, refer to the account
which F. Baltasar Alvarez gave of his own prayer to the General of
the Society.
CH. XXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 187
to my confessor;1 I was also so ashamed of myself, that I
felt it more keenly at times to speak of them than I should
have done in confessing grave sins, particularly when the
graces I had to reveal were great. I thought they did not
believe me, and that they were laughing at me. I felt it
so much, — for I look on this as an irreverent treatment of
the marvels of God, — that I was glad to be silent. I learned
then that I had been ill-advised by that confessor, because
I ought never to hide any thing from my confessor; for I
should find great security if I told every thing; and if I did
otherwise, I might at any time fall into delusions.2
6. Whenever our Lord commanded me to do one thing
in prayer, and if my confessor forbade it, our Lord Himself
told me to obey my confessor. His Majesty afterwards would
change the mind of that confessor, so that he would have
me to do what he had forbidden before. When we were
deprived of many books written in Spanish, and forbidden
to read them, — I felt it deeply, for some of these books were
a great comfort to me, and I could not read them in Latin,
— our Lord said to me, "Be not troubled; I will give thee
a living book." I could not understand why this was said to
me, for at that time I had never had a vision.3 But, a very
few days afterwards, I understood it well enough ; for I had so
much to think of, and such reasons for self-recollection in
what I saw before me, and our Lord dealt so lovingly with me,
in teaching me in so many ways, that I had little or no need
whatever of books. His Majesty has been to me a veritable
Book, in which I saw all truth. Blessed be such a Book, which
leaves behind an impression of what is read therein, and in
such a wray that it cannot be forgotten!
7. Who can look upon our Lord, covered with wounds,
and bowed down under persecutions, without accepting, lov
ing, and longing for them? Who can behold but a part
of that glory which He will give to those who serve Him
without confessing that all he may do, and all he may
suffer, are altogether as nothing, when we may hope for such
a reward? Who can look at the torments of lost souls with
out acknowledging the torments of this life to be joyous
1 See Relation, vii. § 7.
2 S. John of the Cross, Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch. 22.
8 The visions of the Saint began in 1558 (De la Fuente}; or, ac
cording to Father Bouix, in 1559.
188 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVII.
delights in comparison, and confessing how much they owe
to our Lord in having saved them so often from the place
of torments?1 But as, by the help of God, I shall speak
more at large of certain things, I wish now to go on with
the story of my life. Our Lord grant that I have been
clear enough in what I have hitherto said ! I feel assured
that he will understand me who has had experience herein,
and that he wrill see I have partially succeeded ; but as to
him who has had no such experience, I should not be surprised
if he regarded it all as folly. It is enough for him that it is I
who say it, in order to be free from blame ; neither will I
blame any one who shall so speak of it. Our Lord grant
that I may never fail to do His will ! Amen.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE SAINT PRAYS TO BE DIRECTED BY A DIFFERENT WAY
INTELLECTUAL VISIONS.
1. I NOW resume the story of my life. I was in great
pain and distress ; and many prayers, as I said,2 were made
on my behalf, that our Lord would lead me by another and
a safer way ; for this, they told me, was so suspicious. The
truth is, that though I was praying to God for this, and
wished I had a desire for another way, yet, when I saw
the progress I was making, I was unable really to desire a
change, — though I always prayed for it, — excepting on those
occasions when I was extremely cast down by what people
said to me, and by the fears with which they filled me.
2. I felt that I was wholly changed ; I could do nothing
but put myself in the hands of God : He knew what was
expedient for me ; let Him do with me according to His will
in all things. I saw that by this way I was directed heaven
wards, and that formerly I was going down to hell. I could
not force myself to desire a change, nor believe that I was
under the influence of Satan. Though I was doing all I could
to believe the one and to desire the other, it was not in
my power to do so. I offered up all my actions, if there
1 S. Luke xvi. 23. 2 Ch. xxv. § 20.
FOURTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF THE
*
Hye Hoys, del.
1 Residence of the family of Bernardin de Mendoza, founder of the monastery
at Guadalajara. 2. Entrance door of the mansion, with the arms of Mendoza and
de Luna. 3. Entrance door of a house belonging- to the same family at Valladolid.
4. Entrance to the Discalced Carmelite monastery. Travelling- cart or galera.
Watermelon sellers. 5. View of the monastery church from the courtyard. 6. Seal
with death's head which St. Teresa used at one time, and seals with the monogram
of Jesus which she employed later. 7. Reliquary containing a relic of the flesh of
bt. Teresa and a piece of the true Cross. 8. Cross from the Saint's rosary, which
CONCEPTION OF OUR LADY AT VALLADOLID.
Bruges, P. R.aoux,Sc
was miraculously transformed, for her eyes alone, by Our Lord, into a cross of
four large precious stones, engraven with the Five Wounds of the Savior. 9. St.
Teresa's scapulary, protected by a network of gold cord. 10. Original manuscript
of the Way of Perfection. 11. Monastery of Dlscalced Carmelites. 12. Arms of the
Acufia family, Counts of Buendia. 13. Arms of the family of Cobos de Meutlozai.
14. Arms of the Padilla family. 15. Arms of the city of Valladolid. (See Appendix,
note 10.)
CH. XXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 189
should be any good in them, for this end ; I had recourse
to the Saints for whom I had a devotion, that they might
deliver me from the evil one ; I made novenas ; I commended
myself to S. Hilarion, to the angel S. Michael, to whom I
had recently become devout, for this purpose; and many
other Saints I importuned, that our Lord might show me
the way, — I mean, that they might obtain this for me from
His Majesty.
3. At the end of two years spent in prayer by myself
and others for this end, namely, that our Lord would either
lead me by another way, or show the truth of this, — for
now the locutions of our Lord were extremely frequent, —
this happened to me. I was in prayer one day, — it was the
feast of the glorious S. Peter,1 — when I saw Christ close
by me, or, to speak more correctly, felt Him; for I saw noth
ing with the eyes of the body, nothing with the eyes of the
soul. He seemed to me to be close beside me ; and I saw,
too, as I believe, that it was He who was speaking to me.
As I was utterly ignorant that such a vision was possible,2
I was extremely afraid at first, and did nothing but weep ;
however, when He spoke to me but one word to reassure
me, I recovered myself, and was, as usual, calm and comforted,
without any fear whatever. Jesus Christ seemed to be by
my side continually ; and, as the vision was not imaginary,
I saw no form ; but I had a most distinct feeling that He
was always on my right hand, a witness of all I did ; and
never at any time, if I was but slightly recollected, or not too
much distracted, could I be ignorant of His near presence.3
4. I went at once to my confessor,4 in great distress,
to tell him of it. He asked in what form I saw our Lord.
I told him I saw no form. He then said: "How did you
know that it was Christ?" I replied, that I did not know
how I knew it ; but I could not help knowing that He was
close beside me, — that I saw Him distinctly, and felt His
presence, — that the recollectedness of my soul was deeper
in the prayer of quiet, and more continuous, — that the effects
thereof were very different from what I had hitherto ex-
1 See ch. xxviii. § 4, and ch. xxix. § 4. The vision took place, it
seems, on the 29th of June. See ch. xxix. § 6.
2 See ch. vii. § 12.
3 See Anton, a Spiritu Sancto, Direct. Mystic, tr. iii. disp. v. § 3.
4 See Inner Fortress, vi. 8, 3.
190 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVII.
perienced, — and that it was most certain. I could only make
comparisons in order to explain myself; and certainly there
are no comparisons, in my opinion, by which visions of this
kind can be described. Afterwards I learnt from Friar Peter
of Alcantara, a holy man of great spirituality, — of whom I
shall speak by and by,1 — and from others of great learning,
that this vision was of the highest order, and one with
which Satan can least interfere ; and therefore there are no
words whereby to explain, — at least, none for us women, who
know so little : learned men can explain it better.
5. For if I say that I see Him neither with the eyes
of the body, nor with those of the soul, — because it was
not an imaginary vision, — how is it that I can understand
and maintain that He stands beside me, and be more cer
tain of it than if I saw Him? If it be supposed that it is
as if a person were blind, or in the dark, and therefore unable
to see another who is close to him, the comparison is not
exact. There is a certain likelihood about it, however, but
not much, because the other senses tell him who is blind
of that presence : he hears the other speak or move, or he
touches him ; but in these visions there is nothing like this.
The darkness is not felt; only He renders himself present
to the soul by a certain knowledge of Himself which is
more clear than the sun.2 I do not mean that we now see
either a sun or any brightness, only that there is a light
not seen, which illumines the understanding so that the soul
may have the fruition of so great a good. This vision brings
with it great blessings.
6. It is not like that presence of God which is frequently
felt, particularly by those who have attained to the prayer
of union and of quiet, when we seem, at the very com
mencement of our prayer, to find Him with whom we would
converse, and when we seem to feel that He hears us by
the effects and the spiritual impressions of great love and
faith of which we are then conscious, as well as by the
good resolutions, accompanied by sweetness, which we then
make. This is a great grace from God ; and let him to
whom He has given it esteem it much, because it is a very
high degree of prayer ; but it is not vision. God is understood
to be present there by the effects He works in the soul : that is
the way His Majesty makes His presence felt ; but here, in
1 § 17, infra. * See Relation, vii. § 26.
CH. XXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 191
this vision, it is seen clearly that Jesus Christ is present,
the Son of the Virgin. In the prayer of union and of quiet,
certain inflowings of the Godhead are present; but in the
vision, the Sacred Humanity also, together with them, is
pleased to be our visible companion, and to do us good.
7. My confessor next asked me, who told me it was
Jesus Christ.1 I replied, that He often told me so Himself;
but, even before He told me so, there was an impression
on my understanding that it was He; and before this He
used to tell me so, and I saw Him not. If a person whom
I had never seen, but of whom I had heard, came to speak
to me, and I were blind or in the dark, and told me who
he was, I should believe him; but I could not so confidently
affirm that he was that person, as L might do if I had seen
him. But in this vision I could do so, because so clear a
knowledge is impressed on the soul that all doubt seems
impossible, though He is not seen. Our Lord wills that
this knowledge be so graven on the understanding, that
we can no more question His presence than we can question
that which we see with our eyes : not so much even ; for
very often there arises a suspicion that we have imagined
things we think we see; but here, though there may be a
suspicion in the first instant, there remains a certainty so
great, that the doubt has no force whatever. So also is it
when God teaches the soul in another way, and speaks to
it without speaking, in the way I have described.
8. There is so much of heaven in this language, that
it cannot well be understood on earth, though we may desire
ever so much to explain it, if our Lord will not teach it
experimentally. Our Lord impresses in the innermost soul
that which He wills that soul to understand; and He mani
fests it there without images or formal words, after the
manner of the vision I am speaking of. Consider well this
way in which God works, in order that the soul may under
stand what He means — His great truths and mysteries; for
very often what I understand, when our Lord explains to
me the vision, which it is His Majesty's pleasure to set
before me, is after this manner ; and it seems to me that this
is a state with which the devil can least interfere, for these
reasons ; but if these reasons are not good, I must be under
a delusion. The vision and the language are matters of
1 Inner Fortress, vi. 8, § 3.
192 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [cil. XXVII.
such pure spirituality, that there is no turmoil of the facul
ties, or of the senses, out of which — so it seems to me — the
devil can derive any advantage.
9. It is only at intervals, and for an instant, that this oc
curs, for generally — so I think — the senses are not taken away,
and the faculties are not suspended : they preserve their or
dinary state. It is not always so in contemplation; on the
contrary, it is very rarely so; but when it is so, I say that
we do nothing whatever ourselves : no work of ours is then
possible ; all that is done is apparently the work of our Lord.
It is as if food had been received into the stomach which
had not first been eaten, and without our knowing how it
entered ; but we do know well that it is there, though we know
not its nature, nor who it was that placed it there. In this
vision, I know who placed it ; but I do not know how He did it.
I neither saw it, nor felt it; I never had any inclination to
desire it, and I never knew before that such a thing was
possible.
10. In the locutions of which I spoke before,1 God makes
the understanding attentive, though it may be painful to
understand what is said ; then the soul seems to have other
ears wherewith it hears ; and He forces it to listen, and will
not let it be distracted. The soul is like a person whose
hearing was good, and who is not suffered to stop his ears,
while people standing close beside him speak to him 'with
a loud voice. He may be unwilling to hear, yet hear he
must. Such a person contributes something of his own ; for
he attends to what is said to him; but here there is nothing
of the kind : even that little, which is nothing more than
the bare act of listening, which is granted to it in the other
case, is no\v out of its power. It finds its food prepared
and eaten; it has nothing more to do but to enjoy it. It
is as if one without ever learning, without taking the pains
even to learn to read, and without studying any subject
whatever, should find himself in possession of all knowledge,
not knowing how or whence it came to him, seeing that he
had never taken the trouble even to learn the alphabet. This
last comparison seems to me to throw some light on this
heavenly gift ; for the soul finds itself learned in a moment,
and the mystery of the most Holy Trinity so clearly revealed
to it, together with other most deep doctrines, that there is
1 Ch. xxv. 8 1.
CH. XXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 193
no theologian in the world with whom it would hesitate
to dispute for the truth of these matters.
11. It is impossible to describe the surprise of the soul
when it finds that one of these graces is enough to change
it utterly, and make it love nothing but Him who, without
waiting for any thing itself might do, renders it fit for bless
ings so high, communicates to it His secrets, and treats it
with so much affection and love. Some of the graces He
bestows are liable to suspicion because they are so mar
vellous, and given to one who has deserved them so little
—incredible, too, without a most lively faith. I intend, there
fore, to mention very few of those graces which our Lord
has wrought in me, if I should not be ordered otherwise;
but there are certain visions of which I shall speak, an ac
count of which may be of some service. In doing so, I
shall either dispel his fears to whom our Lord sends them,
and who, as I used to do, thinks them impossible, or I shall
explain the way, or the road, by which our Lord has led me;
and that is what I have been commanded to describe.
12. Now, going back to speak of this way of under
standing, what it is seems to me to be this: it is our Lord's
will in every way that the soul should have some knowledge
of what passes in heaven; and I think that, as the blessed
there without speech understand one another, — I never
knew this for certain till our Lord of His goodness made
me see it; He showed it to me in a trance, — so is it here:
God and the soul understand one another, merely because
His Majesty so wills it, without the help of other means,
to express the love there is between them both. In the
same way on earth, two persons of sound sense, if they love
each other much, can even, without any signs, understand
one another only by their looks. It must be so here, though
we do not see how, as these two lovers earnestly regard each
the other : the bridegroom says so to the bride in the Canticle,
so I believe, and I have heard that it is spoken of there.1
13. Oh, marvellous goodness of God, in that Thou per-
mittest eyes which have looked upon so much evil as those
of my soul to look upon Thee! May they never accustom
themselves, after looking on Thee, to look upon vile things
again ! and may they have pleasure in nothing but in Thee,
1 Cant. vi. 4. S. John of the Cross, Amount Carmel, bk. ii. ch. xxix,
p. 192, Engl. trans.
194 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVII.
0 Lord! Oh, ingratitude of men, how far will it go ! I
know by experience that what I am saying is true, and that
all we can say is exceedingly little, when we consider what
Thou doest to the soul which Thou hast led to such a
state as this. O souls, you who have begun to pray, and you
who possess the true faith, what can you be in search of
even in this life, let alone that which is for ever, that is
comparable to the least of these graces? Consider, and it
is true, that God gives Himself to those who give up every
thing for Him. God is not a respecter of persons.1 He loves
all ; there is no excuse for any one, however wicked he may be,
seeing that He hath thus dealt with me, raising me to the state
1 am in. Consider that what I am saying is not even an iota
of what may be said; I say only that which is necessary to
show the kind of the vision and of the grace which God
bestows on the soul; for that cannot be told which it feels
when our Lord admits it to the understanding of His secrets
and of His mighty works. The joy of this is so far above
all conceivable joys, that it may well make us loathe all
the joys of earth; for they are all but dross; and it is an
odious thing to make them enter into the comparison, even
if we might have them for ever. Those which our Lord gives,
what are they? One drop only of the waters of the over
flowing river which He is reserving for us.
14. It is a shame! And, in truth, I am ashamed of
myself; if shame could have a place in heaven, I should
certainly be the most ashamed there. Why do we seek
blessings and joys so great, bliss without end, and all at
the cost of our good Jesus? Shall we not at least weep
with the daughters of Jerusalem,2 if we do not help to carry
His cross with the Cyrenean?3 Is it by pleasure and idle
amusements that we can attain to the fruition of what He
purchased with so much blood? It is impossible. Can we
think that we can, by preserving our honour, which is vanity,
recompense Him for the sufferings He endured, that we
might reign with Him for ever? This is not the way; we
are going by the wrong road utterly, and we shall never
arrive there. You, my father, must lift up your voice, and
utter these truths aloud, seeing that God has taken from me
the power of doing it. I should like to utter them to my
self for ever. I listened to them myself, and came to the
1 Acts x. 34. 2 S. Luke xxiii. 28. 8 S. Matt, xxvii. 32.
(II. XXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 195
knowledge of God so late, as will appear by what I have
written, that I am ashamed of myself when I speak of this;
and so I should like to be silent.
15. Of one thing, however, I will speak, and I think
of it now and then, — may it be the good pleasure of our
Lord to bring me on, so that I may have the fruition of it!
—what will be the accidental glory and the joy of the blessed
who have entered on it, when they see that, though they
were late, yet they left nothing undone which it was possible
for them to do for God, who kept nothing back they could
give Him, and who gave what they gave in every way they
could, according to their strength and their measure, — they
who had more, gave more. How rich will he be who gave
up all his riches for Christ! How honourable will he be
who, for His sake, sought no honours whatever, but rather
took pleasure in seeing himself abased! How wise he will
be who rejoiced when men accounted him as mad ! — they
did so of Wisdom Itself!1 How few there are of this kind
now, because of our sins! Now, indeed, they are all gone
whom people regarded as mad,2 because they saw them per
form heroic acts, as true lovers of Christ.
16. O world, world ! how thou art gaining credit because
they are few who know thee ! But do we suppose that
God is better pleased when men account us wise and discreet
persons? We think forthwith that there is but little edifi
cation given when people do not go about, every one in his
degree, with great gravity, in a dignified way. Even in the
friar, the ecclesiastic, and the nun, if they wear old and
patched garments, we think it a novelty, and a scandal to
the weak; and even if they are very recollected and given
to prayer. Such is the state of the world, and so forgotten
are matters of perfection, and those grand impetuosities of
the Saints. More mischief, I think, is done in this way,
than by any scandal that might arise if the religious showed
in their actions, as they proclaim it in words, that the world is
to be held in contempt. Out of scandals such as this, our Lord
obtains great fruit. If some people take scandal, others are
filled with remorse : anyhow, we should have before us some
likeness of that which our Lord and His Apostles endured ;
for we have need of it now more than ever.
1 S. John x. 20. 2 Sap. v. 4.
196 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVII.
17. And what an excellent likeness in the person of that
blessed friar, Peter of Alcantara, God has just taken from
us I1 The world cannot bear such perfection now ; it is said
that men's health is grown feebler, and that we are not now
in those former times. But this holy man lived in our day ;
he had a spirit strong as those of another age, and so he
trampled on the world. If men do not go about barefooted,
nor undergo sharp penances, as he vlid, there are many ways,
as I have said before,2 of trampling on the world ; and our
Lord teaches them when He finds the necessary courage.
How great was the courage with which His Majesty filled
the Saint I am speaking of! He did penance — oh, how sharp
it was ! — for seven-and-forty years, as all men know. I
should like to speak of it, for I know it to be all true.
18. He spoke of it to me and to another person, yrom
whom he kept few or no secrets. As for me, it was the
affection he bore me that led him to speak ; for it was our
Lord's will that he should undertake my defence, and en
courage me, at a time when I was in great straits, as I said
before, and shall speak of again.3 He told me, I think, that
for forty years he slept but an hour and a half out of the
twenty-four, and that the most laborious penance he under
went, when he began, was this of overcoming sleep. For that
purpose, he was always either kneeling or standing. When he
slept, he sat dowrn, his head resting against a piece of wood
driven into the wall. Lie down he could not, if he wished it ;
for his cell, as every one knows, was only four feet and a half
in length. In all these years, he never covered his head with
his hood, even when the sun was hottest, or the rain heaviest.
He never covered his feet : the only garment he wore was made
of sackcloth, and that was as tight as it could be, with
nothing between it and his flesh ; over this, he wore a cloak
of the same stuff. He told me that, in the severe cold, he
used to take off his cloak, and open the door and the window
of his cell, in order that when he put his cloak on again,
after shutting the door and the window^ he might give some
satisfaction to his body in the pleasure it might have in
the increased warmth. His ordinary practice was to eat but
once in three days. He said to me, "Why are you astonished
1 18th Oct., 1562. As the Saint finished the first relation of her life
in June, 1562, this is one of the additions subsequently made.
2 Ch. xiv. § 7. 3 Ch. xxvi. § 3, ch. xxxii. § 16.
CH. XXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 197
at it? it is very possible for any one who is used to it."
One of his companions told me that he would be occasionally
eight days without eating: that must have been when he
was in prayer; for he was subject to trances, and to the
impetuosities of the love of God, of which I was once a
witness myself.
19. His poverty was extreme ; and his mortification, from
his youth, was such, — so he told me, — that he was three years
in one of the houses of his Order without knowing how
to distinguish one friar from another, otherwise than by the
voice ; for he never raised his eyes : and so, when he was
obliged to go from -one part of the house to the other,
he never knew the way, unless he followed the friars. His
journeys, also, were made in the same way. For many
years, he never saw a woman's face. He told me that it was
nothing to him whether he saw it or not : but he was an
aged man when I made his acquaintance; and his weakness
was so great, that he seemed like nothing else but the roots
of trees. With all his sanctity, he was very agreeable ;
though his words were few, unless when he was asked ques
tions; he was very pleasant to speak to, for he had a most
clear understanding.
20. Many other things I should like to say of him, if
I were not afraid, my father, that you will say, Why does
she meddle here? and it is in that fear I have written this.
So I leave the subject, only saying that his last end was
like his life — preaching to, and exhorting, his brethren. When
he saw that the end was come, he repeated the Psalm,1
"Laetatus sum in his quae dicta sunt mini ;" and then, kneeling
down, he died.
21. Since then, it has pleased our Lord that I should
find more help from him than during his life. He advises
me in many matters. I have often seen him in great glory.
The first time he appeared to me, he said: "O blessed penance,
which has merited so great a reward !" with other things.
A year before his death, he appeared to me, being then
far away. I knew he was about to die, and so I sent him
word to that effect, when he was some leagues from here.
When he died, he appeared to me, and said that he was
going to his rest. I did not believe it. I spoke of it to some
1 Ps. cxxi. The words in the MS. are: Lastatun sun yn is que dita
sun miqui" (De la Fuente}.
198 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII.
persons, and within eight days came the news that he was
dead — or, to speak more correctly, that he had begun to live
for evermore.1
22. Behold here, then, how that life of sharp penance
is perfected in such great glory: and now he is a greater
comfort to me, I do believe, than he was on earth. Our
Lord said to me on one occasion, that persons could not
ask Him anything in his name, and He not hear them.
I have recommended many things to him that he was to
ask of our Lord, and I have seen my petitions granted. God
be blessed for ever! Amen.
23. But how I have been talking in order to stir you up
never to esteem any thing in this life ! — as if you did not know
this, or as if you were not resolved to leave every thing, and
had already done it ! I see so much going wrong in the world,
that though my speaking of it is of no other use than to weary
me by writing of it, it is some relief to me that all I am saying
makes against myself. Our Lord forgive me all that I do
amiss herein ; and you, too, my father, for wearying you to no
purpose. It seems as if I would make you do penance for my
sins herein.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
VISIONS OF THE SACRED HUMANITY, AND OF THE GLORIFIED
BODIES IMAGINARY VISIONS GREAT FRUITS THEREOF WHEN
THEY COME FROM GOD.
1. I NOW resume our subject. I spent some days, not
many, with that vision2 continually before me. It did me
so much good, that I never ceased to pray. Even when I
did cease, I contrived that it should be in such a way as
that I should not displease Him whom I saw so clearly
present, an eye-witness of my acts. And though I was occa
sionally afraid, because so much was said to me about de
lusions, that fear lasted not long, because our Lord reassured
me.
2. It pleased our Lord, one day that I was in prayer,
to show me His Hands, and His Hands only. The beauty
1 See ch. xxx. § 2. 2 Ch. xxvii. § 3.
CH. XXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 199
of them was so great, that no language can describe it. This
put me in great fear: for every thing that is strange, in the
beginning of any new grace from God, makes me very much
afraid. A few days later, I saw His divine Face, and I
\vas utterly entranced. I could not understand why our Lord
showed Himself in this way, seeing that, afterwards, He
granted me the grace of seeing His whole Person. Later
on, I understood that His Majesty was dealing with me
according to the weakness of my nature. May He be blessed
for ever! A glory so great was more than one so base and
wicked could bear; and our merciful Lord, knowing this,
ordered it in this way.
3. You will think, my father, that it required no great
courage to look upon Hands and Face so beautiful. But
so beautiful are glorified bodies, that the glory which sur
rounds them renders those who see that which is so super
natural and beautiful beside themselves. It was so with me :
I was in such great fear, trouble, and perplexity at the sight.
Afterwards, there ensued a sense of safety and certainty,
together with other results, so that all fear passed immedi
ately away.1
4. On one of the feasts of S. Paul,2 when I was at Mass,
there stood before me the most Sacred Humanity,3 as painters
represent Him after the resurrection, in great beauty and
majesty, as I particularly described it to you, my father,
when you had insisted on it. It was painful enough to have
1 Philip, a SS. Trinitate, Theolog. Mystic, par. 2, tr. 3, art. 8:
"Quamvis in principio visiones a dsemone fictse aliquam habeant pacem
ac dulcedinem, in line tamen confusionem et amaritudinem in anima
relinquunt; cujus contrarium est in divinis visionibus, qux srcpe tur-
bant in principio, sed semper in fine pacem animre relinquunt." S.
John of the Cross, Spiritual Canticle, st. 14, p. 84: "In the spiritual
passage from the sleep of natural ignorance to the wakefulness of
the supernatural understanding, which is the beginning of trance or
ecstasy, the spiritual vision then revealed makes the soul fear and
tremble."
~ See ch. xxix. § 4.
3 "The Holy Mother, Teresa of Jesus, had these imaginary visions
for many years, seeing our Lord continually present before her in
great beauty, risen from the dead, with His wounds and the crown
of thorns. She had a picture made of Him, which she gave to me,
and which I gave to Don Fernando de Toledo, Duke of Alva"
(Jerome Gratic.n, Union del Alma, cap. 5. Madrid, 1616).
200 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII.
to write about it, for I could not describe it without doing
great violence to myself. But I described it as well as I
could, and there is no reason why I should now recur to it.
One thing, however, I have to say: if in heaven itself there
were nothing else to delight our eyes but the great beauty of
glorified bodies, that would be an excessive bliss, particularly
the vision of the Humanity of Jesus Christ our Lord. If
here below, where His Majesty shows Himself to us accord
ing to the measure which our wretchedness can bear, it is
so .great, what must it be there, where the fruition of it
is complete !
5. This vision, though imaginary, I never saw with my
bodily eyes, nor, indeed, any other, but only with the eyes
of the soul. Those who understand these things better than
I do, say that the intellectual vision is more perfect than
this ; and this, the imaginary vision, much more perfect than
those visions which are seen by the bodily eyes. The latter
kind of visions, they say, is the lowest; and it is by these
that the devil can most delude us.1 I did not know it then;
for I wished, when this grace had. been granted me, that it
had been so in such a way that I could see it with my bodily
eyes, in order that my confessor might not say that I in
dulged in fancies.
6. After the vision was over, it happened that I too
imagined — the thought came at once — I had fancied these
things ; so I was distressed, because I had spoken of them
to my confessor, thinking that I might have been deceiving
him. There was another lamentation : I went to my confessor,
and told him of my doubts. He would ask me whether I
told him the truth so far as I knew it; or, if not, had I
intended to deceive him? I would reply, that I told the
truth; for, to the best of my belief, I did not lie, nor did I
mean any thing of the kind; neither would I tell a lie for
the whole world.2 This he knew well enough; and, accord
ingly, he contrived to quiet me ; and I felt so much the going
1 Anton, a Sp. Sancto, Direct. Mystic, tr. iii. disp. 5, § 1, n. 315:
"Visio corporea est infima, visio imaginaria est media, visio intellec-
tualis est suprema." N. 322: "Apparitio visibilis, cum sit omnium
infima, est magis exposita illusion! diaboli, nisi forte huic visioni
corporali visio intellectualis adjungatur, ut in apparitione S. Gabrielis
archangeli facta Beatse Virgini."
2 See ch. xxx. § 18.
CH. XXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 201
to him with these doubts, that I cannot tell how Satan could
have put it into my head that I invented those things for the
purpose of tormenting myself.
7. But our Lord made such haste to bestow this grace
upon me, and to declare the reality of it, that all doubts of the
vision being a fancy on my part were quickly taken away,
and ever since I see most clearly how silly I was. For if
I were to spend many years in devising how to picture to
myself any thing so beautiful, I should never be able, nor
even know how, to do it; for it is beyond the reach of any
possible imagination here below : the whiteness and brilliancy
• alone are inconceivable. It is not a brilliancy which dazzles,
but a delicate whiteness and brilliancy infused, furnishing
the most excessive delight to the eyes, never wearied therby,
nor by the visible brightness which enables us to see a
beauty so divine. It is a light so different from any light here
below, that the very brightness of the sun we see, in compari
son with the brightness and light before our eyes, seems to
be something so obscure, that no one would ever wish to
open his eyes again.
8. It is like most pellucid water running in a bed of
crystal, reflecting the rays of the sun, compared with most
muddy water on a cloudy day, flowing on the surface of
the earth. Not that there is any thing like the sun present
here, nor is the light like that of the sun: this light seems
to be natural ; and, in comparison with it, every other light
is something artificial. It is a light which knows no night;
but rather, as it is always light, nothing ever disturbs it.
In short, it is such that no man, however gifted he may be,
can ever, in the whole course of his life, arrive at any imagi
nation of what it is. God puts it before us so instantaneously,
that we could not open our eyes in time to see it, if it were
necessary for us to open them at all. But whether our eyes
be open or shut, it makes no difference whatever ; for when
our Lord wills, we must see it, whether we will or not.
No distraction can shut it out, no power can resist it, nor can
we attain to it by any diligence or efforts of our own. I know
this by experience well, as I shall show you.
9. That which I wish now to speak of is the manner in
which our Lord manifests Himself in these visions. I do not
mean that I am going to explain how it is that a light so
strong can enter the interior sense, or so distinct an image
202 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII.
the understanding, so as to seem to be really there; for
this must be work for learned men. Our Lord has not been
pleased to let me understand how it is. I am so ignorant
myself, and so dull of understanding, that, although people
have very much wished to explain it to me, I have never
been able to understand how it can be.
10. This is the truth : though you, my father, may think
that I have a quick understanding, it is not so ; for I have
found out, in many ways, that my understanding can take in
only, as they say, what is given to it to eat. Sometimes my
confessor used to be amazed at my ignorance : and he never
explained to me — nor, indeed, did I desire to understand —
how God did this, nor how it could be. Nor did I ever ask;
though, as I have said,1 I had converse for many years
with men of great learning. But I did ask them if this or
that were a sin or not : as for every thing else, the thought
that God did it all was enough for me. I saw there was no
reason to be afraid, but great reason to praise Him. On
the other hand, difficulties increase my devotion ; and the
greater the difficulty, the greater the increase.
11. I will therefore relate what my experience has shown
me; but how our Lord brought it about, you my father, will
explain better than I can, and make clear all that is obscure,
and beyond my skill to explain. Now and then it seemed
to me that what I saw was an image ; but most frequently
it was not so. I thought it was Christ Himself, judging
by the brightness in which He was pleased to show Himself.
Sometimes the vision was so indistinct, that I thought it
was an image ; but still not like a picture, however well
painted — and I have seen many good pictures. It would
be absurd to. suppose that the one bears any resemblance
whatever to the other, for they differ as a living person differs
from his portrait, which, however well drawn, cannot be
lifelike, for it is plain that it is a dead thing. .But let this
pass, though to the purpose, and literally true.
12. I do not say this by way of comparison, for compari
sons are never exact, but because it is the truth itself, as
there is the same difference here that there is between a
living subject and the portrait thereof, neither more nor less:
for if what I saw was an image, it was a living image, —
not a dead man, but the living Christ : and He makes me see
'Ch. xxv. § 18.
CH. XXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 203
that He is God and man, — not as He was in the sepulchre,
but as He was when He had gone forth from it, risen from
the dead. He comes at times in majesty so great, that no
one can have any doubt that it is our Lord Himself, espe
cially after Communion: we know that He is then present,
for faith says so. He shows Himself so clearly to be the Lord
of that little dwelling-place, that the soul seems to be dissolved
and lost in Christ. O my Jesus, who can describe the majesty
wherein Thou showest Thyself! How utterly Thou art the
Lord of the whole world, and of heaven, and of a thousand
other and innumerable worlds and heavens, the creation of
which is possible to Thee ! The soul understands by that
majesty wherein Thou showest Thyself that it is nothing for
Thee to be Lord of all this.
13. Here it is plain, O my Jesus, how slight is the power
of all the devils in comparison with Thine, and how he who
is pleasing unto Thee is able to tread all hell under his feet.
Here we see why the devils trembled when Thou didst go
down to Limbus, and why they might have longed for a
thousand hells still lower, that they might escape from Thy
terrible Majesty. I see that it is Thy will the soul should
feel the greatness of Thy Majesty, and the power of Thy
most Sacred Humanity, united with Thy Divinity. Here,
too, we see what the day of judgment will be when we shall
behold the King in His majesty, and in the rigour of His
justice against the wicked. Here we learn true humility, im
printed in the soul by the sight of its own wretchedness, of
which now it cannot be ignorant. Here, also, is confusion
of face, and true repentance for sins ; for though the soul sees
that our Lord shows how He loves it, yet it knows not where
to go, and so is utterly dissolved.
14. My meaning is, that so exceedingly great is the
power of this vision when our Lord shows the soul much of
His grandeur and majesty, that it is impossible, in my opinion,
for any soul to endure it, if our Lord did not succour it in
a most supernatural wray, by throwing it into a trance or
ecstasy, whereby the vision of the divine presence is lost
in the fruition thereof. It is true that afterwards the vision
is forgotten ; but there remains so deep an impression of the
majesty and beauty of God, that it is impossible to forget
it, except when our Lord is pleased that the soul should
suffer from aridity and desolation, of which I shall speak
204 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII.
hereafter ;l for then it seems to forget God Himself. The
soul is itself no longer, it is always inebriated ; it seems as if a
living love of God, of the highest kind, made a new begin
ning within it; for though the former vision, which I said
represented God without any likeness of Him,2 is of a higher
kind, yet because of our weakness, in order that the remem
brance of the vision may last, and that our thoughts may
be well occupied, it is a great matter that a presence so
divine should remain and abide in our imagination. These
two kinds of visions come almost always together, and they
do so come ; for we behold the excellency and beauty and
glory of the most Holy Humanity with the eyes of the soul.
And in the other way I have spoken of, — that of intellectual
vision, — we learn how He is God, is mighty, can do all things,
command all things, governs all things, and fills all things
with His love.
15. This vision is to be esteemed very highly; nor is
there, in my opinion, any risk in it, because the fruits of it
show that the devil has no power here. I think he tried
three or four times to represent our Lord to me, in this
way, by a false image of Him. He takes the appearance of
flesh, but he cannot counterfeit the glory which it has when
the vision is from God. Satan makes his representations in
order to undo the true vision which the soul has had : but
the soul resists instinctively, is troubled, disgusted, and rest
less ; it loses that devotion and joy it previously had, and
cannot pray at all. In the beginning, it so happened to me
three or four times. These satanic visions are very different
things ; and even he who shall have attained to the prayer
of quiet only will, I believe, detect them by those results of
them which I described when I was speaking of locutions.3
They are most easily recognised; and if a soul consents not
to its own delusion, I do not think that Satan will be able
to deceive it, provided it walks in humility and singleness
of heart. He who shall have had the true vision, coming
from God, detects the false visions at once; for, though they
begin with a certain sweetness and joy, the soul rejects them
of itself; and the joy which Satan ministers must be, I think,
1 Ch. xxx. §§ 9, 10. See S. John of the Cross, Obscure Night, bk. ii.
ch. 7.
2 Ch. xxvii. § 3. 3 Ch. xxv. § 8.
CH. XXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 205
very different — it shows no traces of pure and holy love:
Satan very quickly betrays himself.
16. Thus, then, as I believe, Satan can do no harm to
any one who has had experience of these things; for it is
the most impossible of all impossible things that all this
may be the work of the imagination. There is no ground
whatever for the supposition ; for the very beauty and white
ness of one of our Lord's Hands1 are beyond our imagination
altogether. How is it that we see present before us, in a
moment, what we do not remember, what we have never
thought of, and, moreover, what, in a long space of time, the
imagination could not compass, because, as I have just said,2
it far transcends any thing we can comprehend in this life?
This, then, is not possible. Whether we have any power in
the matter or not will appear by what I am now going to say.
17. If the vision were the work of a man's own under
standing, — setting aside that such a vision would not accom
plish the great results of the true one, nor, indeed, any at
all, — it would be as the act of one who tries to go to sleep,
and yet continues awake, because sleep has not come. He
longs for it, because of some necessity or weakness in his
head : and so he lulls himself to sleep, and makes efforts
to procure it, and now and then thinks he has succeeded;
but, if the sleep be not real, it will not support him, nor supply
strength to his head : on the contrary, his head will very
often be the worse for it. So will it be here, in a measure;
the soul will be dissipated, neither sustained nor strengthened ;
on the contrary, it will be wearied and disgusted. But, in
the true vision, the riches which abide in the soul cannot
be described ; even the body receives health and comfort.
18. I urged this argument, among others, when they told
me that my visions came from the evil one, and that I
imagined them myself, — and it was very often, — and made
use of certain illustrations, as well as I could, and as our
Lord suggested to me. But all was to little purpose; for
as there were most holy persons in the place, — in comparison
with whom I was a mass of perdition, — whom God did not
lead by this way, they were at once filled with- fear; they
thought it all came through my sins. And so my state was
talked about, and came to the knowledge of many; though I
1 See § 2. 2 § 7, supra.
206 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII.
had spoken of it to no one, except my confessor, or to those to
whom he commanded1 me to speak of it.
19. I said to them once, If they who thus speak of my
state were to tell me that a person with whom I had just
conversed, and whom I knew well, was not that person,
but that I was deluding myself, and that they knew it, I
should certainly trust them rather than my own eyes. But
if that person left with me certain jewels, — and if, possessing
none previously, I held the jewels in my hand as pledges
of a great love, — and if I were now rich, instead of poor
as before, — I should not be able to believe this that they
said, though I might wish it. Those jewels I could now
show them, for all who knew me saw clearly that my soul
was changed, — and so my confessor said ; for the difference
was very great in every way — not a pretence, but such as all
might most clearly observe. As I was formerly so wicked,
I said, I could not believe that Satan, if he wished to deceive
me and take me down to hell, would have recourse to means
so adverse to his purpose as this of rooting out my faults,
implanting virtues and spiritual strength; for I saw clearly
that I had become at once another person through the instru
mentality of these visions.
20. My confessor, who was, as I said before,2 one of
the fathers of the Society of Jesus, and a really holy man,
answered them in the same way, — so I learnt afterwards.
He was a most discreet man, and of great humility; but this
great humility of his brought me into serious trouble : for,
though he was a man much given to prayer, and learned,
he never trusted his own judgment, because our Lord was
not leading him by this way. He had, therefore, much to
suffer on my account, in many ways. I knew they used to
say to him that he must be on his guard against me, lest
Satan should delude him through a belief in any thing I
might say to him. They gave instances of others who were
deluded.3 All this distressed me. I began to be afraid I
should find no one to hear my confession,4 and that all would
avoid me. I did nothing but weep.
1 Ch. xxiii. § 14. 2 Ch. xxiv. § 5.
* There were in Spain, and elsewhere, many women who were
hypocrites, or deluded. Among others was the prioress of Lisbon,
afterwards notorious, who deceived Luis of Granada (De la Fuente}.
4 Inner Fortress, vi. 1, § 4.
CH. XXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 207
21. It was a providence of God that he was willing to
stand by me and hear my confession. But he was so great
a servant of God, that he would have exposed himself to any
thing for His sake. So he told me that if I did not offend
God, or swerve from the instructions he gave me, there was
no fear I should be deserted by him. He encouraged me
always, and quieted me. He bade me never to conceal any
thing from him ; and I never did.1 He used to say that,
so long as I did this, the devil, if it were the devil, could
not hurt me; on the contrary, out of that evil which Satan
wished to do me, our Lord would bring forth good. He
laboured with all his might to make me perfect. As I was
very much afraid myself, I obeyed him in every thing, though
imperfectly. He had much to suffer on my account during
three years of trouble and more, because he heard my con
fession all that time ; for in the great persecutions that fell
upon me, and the many harsh judgments of me which our
Lord permitted, — many of which I did not deserve, — every
thing was carried to him, and he was found fault with
because of me, — he being all the while utterly blameless.
22. If he had not been so holy a man, and if our Lord
had not been with him, it would have been impossible for
him to bear so much ; for he had to answer those who re
garded me as one going to destruction ; and they would not
believe what he said to them. On the other hand, he had
to quiet me, and relieve me of my fears ; when my fears
increased, he had again to reassure me ; for, after every
vision which was strange to me, our Lord permitted me to
remain in great fear. All this was the result of my being
then, and of having been, a sinner. He used to console me
out of his great compassion ; and, if he had trusted to his
own convictions, I should not have had so much to suffer;
for God revealed the whole truth to him. I believe that
he received this light from the Blessed Sacrament.
23. Those servants of God who were not satisfied had
many conversations with me.2 As I spoke to them carelessly,
so they misunderstood my meaning in many things. I had
a great regard for one of them ; for my soul owed him more
than I can tell. He was a most holy man, and I felt it most
acutely when I saw that he did not understand me. He
1 Ch. xxvi. § 5; Inner Fortress, vi. 9, § 7. 2 See ch. xxv. § 18.
208 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIX.
had a great desire for my improvement, and hoped our Lord
would enlighten me. So, then, because I spoke, as I was
saying, without careful consideration, they looked upon me
as deficient in humility ; and when they detected any of my
faults — they might have detected many — they condemned
me at once. They used to put certain questions to me,
which I answered simply and carelessly. Then they con
cluded forthwith that I wished to teach them, and that I
considered myself to be a learned woman. All this was
carried to my confessor, — for certainly they desired my amend
ment, — and so he would reprimand me. This lasted some
time, and I was distressed on many sides; but, with the
graces which our Lord gave me, I bore it all.
24. I relate this in order that people may see what
a great trial it is not to find any one who knows this way
of the spirit by experience. If our Lord had not dealt so
favourably with me, I know not what would have become
of me. There were some things that were enough to take
away my reason ; and now and then I was reduced to such
straits that I could do nothing but lift up my eyes to our
Lord.1 The contradiction of good people, which a wretched
woman, weak, wicked, and timid as I am, must bear with,
seems to be nothing when thus described; but I, who in
the course of my life passed through very great trials, found
this one of the heaviest.2
25. May our Lord grant that I may have pleased His
Majesty a little herein; for I am sure that they pleased Him
who condemned and rebuked me, and that it was all for my
great good.
CHAPTER XXIX.
OF VISIONS THE GRACES OUR LORD BESTOWED ON THE SAINT
THE ANSWERS OUR LORD GAVE HER FOR THOSE WHO
TRIED HER.
1. I HAVE wandered far from the subject; for I under
took to give reasons why the vision was no work of the
imagination. For how can we, by any efforts of ours, pic-
1 2 Paralip. xx. 12. " See ch. xxx. § 6.
FIFTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del.
1. Antonio of Jesus, in the world Antonio de Heredia, ex-prior of the
Observants of Medina del Campo, and first prior of the Discalced monastery at
Duruelo. 2. Enclosure of the monastery of Discalced Carmelites, built at Duruelo
in 1637. 3. Church of the monastery at Duruelo, after a vignette in the atlas of
Provinces of the Reformed Carmelites, published at Rome in the XVIII. century.
4. Part of the monastery, now used for farming purposes. 5. Garden of the monas
tery of Mancera de Abajo. 6. Ruins of the monastery of Mancera. To the right,
the village church. 7. Carved escutcheons still to be seen on the facade of this
monastery. 8. Diacalced Carmelite church and monastery of St. Teresa at Avila.
OUR LADY OF MT. CARMEL AT DURUELO.
XI
Bruges. P Raoux Sc
To the left, mansion of Vela Nunez, godfather of the Saint. 9. Painting of Our Lady
of Solitude, which St. Teresa carried with her to all her foundations. It is inscribed
"This image belonged to our sainted Mother Teresa of Jesus, who took it with
her to all her foundations." 10. Crucifix which the Saint always kept with her and
\vhich she held in her hand when she died. 11. Leathern sole of a sandal belonging
to St. Teresa. 12. ArniM of the de Heredia family. 13. Arms of the Velasquez
family. 14. Arms of Luis de Toledo, lord of Mancera. 15. Arms of Caspar de
Guzman, duke of Olivares, patron or the convent of St. Teresa at Avila. (See
Appendix, note 11.)
CH. XXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 209
ture to ourselves the Humanity of Christ, and image His
great beauty? No little time is necessary, if our conception
is in any way to resemble it. Certainly, the imagination
may be able to picture it, and a person may for a time con
template that picture, — the form and the brightness of it,
— and gradually make it more perfect, and so lay up that
image in his memory. Who can hinder this, seeing that
it could be fashioned by the understanding? But as to the
vision of which I am speaking, there are no means of bring
ing it about ; only we must behold it when our Lord is
pleased to present it before us, as He wills and what He
wills ; and there is no possibility of taking any thing away
from it, or of adding any thing to it ; nor is there any way
of effecting it, whatever we may do, nor of seeing it when
we like, nor of abstaining from seeing; if we try to gaze upon
it — part of the vision in particular — the vision of Christ is
lost at once.
2. For two years and a half God granted me this grace
very frequently ; but it is now more than three years since
He has taken away from me its continual presence, through
another of a higher nature, as I shall perhaps explain here
after.1 And though I saw Him speaking to me, and though
I was contemplating His great beauty, and the sweetness
with which those words of His came forth from His divine
mouth, — they were sometimes uttered with severity, — and
though I was extremely desirous to behold the colour of
His eyes, or the form of them, so that I might be able to
describe them, yet I never attained to the sight of them, and I
could do nothing for that end ; on the contrary, I lost the
vision altogether. And though I see that He looks upon me
at times with great tenderness, yet so strong is His gaze,
that my soul cannot endure it; I fall into a trance so deep,
that I lose the beautiful vision, in order to have a greater
fruition of it all.
3. Accordingly, willing or not willing the vision has
nothing to do with it. Our Lord clearly regards nothing
but humility and confusion of face, the acceptance of what
He wishes to give, and the praise of Himself, the Giver.
This is true of all visions without exception : we can con
tribute nothing towards them — we cannot add to them, nor
can we take from them ; our own efforts can neither make
1 Ch. xl.
210 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIX.
nor unmake them. Our Lord would have us see most clearly
that it is no work of ours, but of His Divine Majesty; we are
therefore the less able to be proud of it: on the contrary, it
makes us humble and afraid ; for we see that, as our Lord
can take from us the power of seeing what we would see,
so also can He take from us these mercies and His grace,
and we may be lost for ever. We must therefore walk in
His fear while we are living in this our exile.
4. Our Lord showed Himself to me almost always as
He is after His resurrection. It was the same in the Host;
only at those times when I was in trouble, and when it was
His will to strengthen me, did He show His wounds. Some
times I saw Him on the cross, in the Garden, crowned with
thorns, — but that Was rarely ; sometimes also carrying His
cross because of my necessities, — I may say so, — or those
of others ; but always in His glorified body. Many reproaches
and many vexations have I borne while telling this — many
suspicions and much persecution also. So certain were they
to whom I spoke that I had an evil spirit, that some would
have me exorcised. I did not care much for this; but I felt
it bitterly when I saw that my confessors were afraid to hear
me, or when I knew that they were told of any thing
about me.
5. Notwithstanding all this, I never could be sorry that
I had had these heavenly visions; nor would I exchange
even one of them for all the wealth and all the pleasures of
the world. I always regarded them as a great mercy from
our Lord; and to me they were the very greatest treasure,
— of this our Lord assured me often. I used to go to Him
to complain of all these hardships ; and I came away from
prayer consoled, and with renewed strength. I did not dare
to contradict those who were trying me ; for I saw that it
made matters worse, because they looked on my doing so
as a failure in humility. I spoke of it to my confessor; he
always consoled me greatly when he saw me in distress.
6. As my visions grew in frequency, one of those who
used to help me before — it was to him I confessed when the
father-minister1 could not hear me — began to say that I was
certainly under the influence of Satan. He bade me, now
1 Baltasar Alvarez was father-minister of the house of S. Giles,
Avila, in whose absence she had recourse to another father of that
house (Ribera, i. ch. 10).
CH. XXIX. ] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 211
that I had no power of resisting, always to make the sign
of the cross when 1 had a vision, to point my ringer at it
by way of scorn,1 and be firmly persuaded of its diabolic
nature. If I did this, the vision would not recur. I was to
be without fear on the point; God would watch over me,
and take the vision away.2 This was a great hardship for
me ; for, as I could not believe that the vision did not come
from God, it was a fearful thing for me to do ; and 1 could not
wish, as I said before, that the visions should be withheld.
However, I did at last as I was bidden. I prayed much to
our Lord, that He would deliver me from delusions. 1 was
always praying to that effect, and with many tears. I had
recourse also to S. Peter and S. Paul ; for our Lord had
said to me — it was on their feast that He had appeared to
me the first time3 — that they would preserve me from de
lusion. 1 used to see them frequently most distinctly on my
left hand; but that vision was not imaginary. These glor
ious Saints were my very good lords.
7. It was to me a most painful thing to make a show
of contempt whenever I saw our Lord in a vision; for when
I saw Him before me, if I were to be cut in pieces, I could
not believe it was Satan. This was to me, therefore, a heavy
kind of penance; and accordingly, that I might not be so
continually crossing myself, I used to hold a crucifix in my.
hand. This I did almost always; but I did not always make
signs of contempt, because I felt that too much. It reminded
me of the insults which the Jews heaped upon Him; and
so I prayed Him to forgive me, seeing that I did so in
obedience to him who stood in His stead, and not to lay
the blame on me, seeing that he was one of those whom He
had placed as His ministers in His Church. He said to me,
that I was not to distress myself — that I did well to obey;
but He would make them see the truth of the matter. He
seemed to me to be angry when they made me give up
my prayer.4 He told me to say to them that this was
1 Y diese higas. "Higa es una manera de menosprecio que hace-
mos cerrando el puno, y mostrando el dedo pulgar por entre el dedo
indice, y el medio" (Cobarruvias, in voce}.
2 See Book of the Foundations, ch. viii. § 3, where the Saint refers
to this advice, and to the better advice given her later by F. Dominic
Banes, one of her confessors. See also Inner Fortress, vi. 9, § 7.
* See ch. xxvii. § 3, and ch. xxviii. § 4.
4 Ch. xxv. § 18.
212 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIX.
tyranny. He gave me reasons for believing that the vision
was not satanic ; some of them I mean to repeat by and by.
8. On one occasion, when I was holding in my hand
the cross of my rosary, He took it from me into His own
hand. He returned it; but it was then four large stones in
comparably more precious than diamonds; for nothing can
be compared with what is supernatural. Diamonds seem
counterfeits and imperfect when compared with these precious
stones. The five wounds were delineated on them with most
admirable art. He said to me, that for the future that cross
would appear so to me always; and so it did. I never saw
the wood of which it was made, but only the precious stones.
They were seen, however, by no one else, — only by myself.1
9. When they had begun to insist on my putting my
visions to a test like this, and resisting them, the graces I
received were multiplied more and more. I tried to distract
myself; I never ceased to be in prayer: even during sleep
my prayer seemed to be continual ; for now my love grew,
I made piteous complaints to our Lord, and told Him I
could not bear it. Neither was it in my power — though I
desired, and, more than that, even strove — to give up thinking
of Him. Nevertheless, I obeyed to the utmost of my power;
but my power was little or nothing in the matter; and our
Lord never released me from that obedience; but though He
bade me obey my confessor, He reassured me in another
way, and taught me what I was to say. He has continued
to do so until now; and He gave me reasons so sufficient,
that I felt myself perfectly safe.
10. Not long afterwards, His Majesty began, according
to His promise, to make it clear that it was He Himself
who appeared, by the growth in me of the love of God so
strong, that I knew not who could have infused it; for it
was most supernatural, and I had not attained to it by any
efforts of my own. I saw myself dying with a desire to see
God, and I knew not how to seek that life otherwise than
by dying. Certain great impetuosities2 of love, though not
so intolerable as those of which I have spoken before,3 nor
1 The cross was made of ebony (Ribera). It is not known where
that cross is now. The Saint gave it to her sister, Dona Tuana de
Ahumada, who begged it of her. Some say that the Carmelites of
Madrid possess it; and others, those of Valladolid (De la Fuente}.
2 See Relation, i. § 3. * Ch. xx. § 11.
CH. XXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 213
yet of so great worth, overwhelmed me. I knew not what
to do; for nothing gave me pleasure, and I had no control
over myself. It seemed as if my soul were really torn away
from myself. Oh, supreme artifice of our Lord ! how tenderly
didst Thou deal with Thy miserable slave ! Thou didst hide
Thyself from me, and didst yet constrain me with Thy love,
with a death so sweet, that my soul would never wish it over.
11. It is not possible for any one to understand these
impetuosities if he has not experienced them himself. They
are not an upheaving of the breast, nor those devotional
sensations, not uncommon, which seem on the point of caus
ing suffocation, and are beyond control. That prayer is of
a much lower order; and those agitations should be avoided
by, gently endeavoring to be recollected; and the soul should
be kept in quiet. This prayer is like the sobbing of little
children, who seem on the point of choking, and whose
disordered senses are soothed by giving them to drink. So
here reason should draw in the reins, because nature itself may
be contributing to it; and we should consider with fear that
all this may not be perfect, and that much sensuality may be
involved in it. The infant soul should be soothed by the
caresses of love, which shall draw forth its love in a gentle
way, and not, as they say, by force of blows. This love
should be inwardly under control, and not as a caldron,
fiercely boiling because too much fuel has been applied to
it, and out of which every thing is lost. The source of the
fire must be kept under control, and the flame must be
quenched in sweet tears, and not with those painful tears
which come out of these emotions, and which do so much
harm.
12. In the beginning, I had tears of this kind. They
left me with a disordered head and a wearied spirit, and for
a day or two afterwards unable to resume my prayer. Great
discretion, therefore, is necessary at first, in order that every
thing may proceed gently, and that the operations of the
spirit may be within; all outward manifestations should be
carefully avoided.
13. These other impetuosities are very different. It is
not we who apply the fuel ; the fire is already kindled, and
we are thrown into it in a moment to be consumed. It is
by no efforts of the soul that it sorrows over the wound
which the absence of our Lord has inflicted on it; it is far
214 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXIX.
otherwise; for an arrow is driven into the entrails to the
very quick,1 and into the heart at times, so that the soul
knows not what is the matter with it, nor what it wishes for.
It understands clearly enough that it wishes for God, and
that the arrow seems tempered with some herb which makes
the soul hate itself for the love of our Lord, and willingly
lose its life for Him. It is impossible to describe or explain
the way in which God wounds the soul, nor the very grievous
pain inflicted, which deprives it of all self-consciousness ; yet
this pain is so sweet, that there is no joy in the world which
gives greater delight. As I have just said,2 the soul would
wish to be always dying of this wound.
14. This pain and bliss together carried me out of my
self, and I never could understand how it was. Oh, what a
sight a wounded soul is ! — a soul, I mean, so conscious of
it, as to be able to say of itself that it is wounded for so
good a cause; and seeing distinctly that it never did any
thing whereby this love should come to it, and that it does
come from that exceeding love which our Lord bears it. A
spark seems to have fallen suddenly upon it, that has set it
all on fire. Oh, how often do I remember, when in this state,
those words of David: "Quemadmodum desiderat cervus ad
fontes aquarum"!3 They seem to me to be literally true
of myself.
15. When these impetuosities are not very violent, they
seem to admit of a little mitigation — at least, the soul seeks
some relief, because it knows not what to do — through cer
tain penances ; the painfulness of which, and even the shed
ding of its blood, are no more felt than if the body were
dead. The soul seeks for ways and means to do something
that may be felt, for the love of God; but the first pain is
so great, that no bodily torture I know of can take it away.
As relief is not to be had here, these medicines are too
mean for so high a disease. Some slight mitigation may
be had, and the pain may pass away a little, by praying
God to relieve its sufferings : but the soul sees no relief
except in death, by which it thinks to attain completely to the
fruition of its good. At other times, these impetuosities are
so violent, that the soul can do neither this nor any thing else ;
1 Inner Fortress, vi. 11, § 2; S. John of the Cross, Spiritual Can
ticle, st. 1, p. 22, Engl. trans.
2 § 8. 3 Ps. xli. 1.
CH. XXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 215
the whole body is contracted, and neither hand nor foot can be
moved : if the body be upright at the time, it falls down, as a
thing that has no control over itself. It cannot even breathe ;
all it does is to moan — not loudly, because it cannot: its
moaning, however, comes from a keen sense of pain.
16. Our Lord was pleased that I should have at times
a vision of this kind: I saw an angel close by me, on my
left side, in bodily form. This I am not accustomed to see,
unless very rarely. Though I have visions of angels fre
quently, yet I see them only by an intellectual vision, such
as I have spoken of before.1 It was our Lord's will that
in this vision I should see the angel in this wise. He was
not large, but small of stature, and most beautiful — his face
burning, as if he were one of the highest angels, who seem to
be all of fire : they must be those whom we call cherubim.2
Their names they never tell me ; but I see very well that there
is in heaven so great a difference between one angel and
another, and between these and the others, that I cannot ex
plain it.
17. I saw in his hand a long spear of gold', and at the
iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared
to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart,3 and to
pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to
draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great
love of God. The pain was so^ great, that it made me
moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this ex
cessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The
soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is
not bodily, but spiritual ; though the body has its share in it,
even a large one. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now
takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His
goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am
lying.4
1 Ch. xxvii. § 3.
• In the MS. of the Saint preserved in the Escurial, the word is
"cherubines"; but all the editors before Don Vicente de la Fuente have
adopted the suggestion, in the margin, of Banes, who preferred
"seraphim". F. Bouix, in his translation, corrected the mistake; but,
with his usual modesty, did not call the reader's attention to it.
3 See Relation, viii. § 16.
"The most probable opinion is, that the piercing of the heart of
the Saint took place in 1559. The hymn which she composed on that
216 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXX.
18. During the days that this lasted, I went about as if
beside myself. I wished to see, or speak with, no one, but
only to cherish my pain, which was to me a greater bliss
than all created things could give me.1
19. I was in this state from time to time, whenever it
was our Lord's pleasure to throw me into those deep trances,
which I could not prevent even when I was in the company
of others, and which, to my deep vexation, came to be pub
licly known. Since then, I do not feel that pain so much,
but only that which I spoke of before, — I do not remember
the chapter,2 — which is in many ways very different from
it, and of greater worth. On the other hand, when this
pain, of which I am now speaking, begins, our Lord seems
to lay hold of the soul, and to throw it into a trance, so
that there is no time for me to have any sense of pain or
suffering, because fruition ensues at once. May He be blessed
for ever, who hath bestowed such great graces on one who
has responded so ill to blessings so great!
CHAPTER XXX.
S. PETER OF ALCANTARA COMFORTS THE SAINT GREAT
TEMPTATIONS ^AND INTERIOR TRIALS.
1. WHEN I saw that I was able to do little or nothing
towards avoiding these great impetuosities, I began also to
be afraid of them, because I could not understand how this
pain and joy could subsist together. I knew it was pos
sible enough for bodily pain and spiritual joy to dwell to
gether; but the coexistence of a spiritual pain so excessive
as this, and of joy so deep, troubled my understanding. Still,
occasion was discovered in Seville in 1700 ('En las internas entra-
fias'). On the high altar of the Carmelite church in Alba de Tormes,
the heart of the Saint thus pierced is to be seen; and I have seen it
myself more than once" (De la Fuente).
1 Brev. Rom. in fest. S. Teresiae, Oct. 15, Lect. v.; "Tanto autem
divini amoris incendio cor ejus conflagravit, ut merito viderit Angelum
ignito jaculo sibi prsecordia transverberantem." The Carmelites keep
the feast of this piercing of the Saint's heart on the 27th of August.
2 Ch. xx. § 11.
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 217
I tried to continue my resistance ; but I was so little able,
that I was now and then wearied. I used to take up the
cross for protection, and try to defend myself against. Him
who, by the cross, is the Protector of us all. I saw that
no one understood me. I saw it very clearly myself, but I
did not dare to say so to any one except my confessor ; for
that would have been a real admission that I had no
humility.
2. Our Lord was pleased to succour me in a great meas
ure, — and, for the moment, altogether, — by bringing to the
plaoe where I was that blessed friar, Peter of Alcantara. Of
him I spoke before, and said something of his penance.1 Among
other things, I have been assured that he wore continually,
for twenty years, a girdle made of iron.2 He is the author
of certain little books, in Spanish, on prayer, which are now
in common use ; for, as he was much exercised therein, his
writings are very profitable to those who are given to prayer.
He kept the first rule of the blessed S. Francis in all its
rigour, and did those things besides of which I spoke before.
3. When that widow, the servant of God and my friend,
of whom I have already spoken,3 knew that so great a man
had come, she took her measures. She knew the straits I
was in, for she was an eye-witness of my afflictions, and
was a great comfort to me. Her faith was so strong, that
she could not help believing that what others said was the
work of the devil was really the work of the Spirit of God;
and as she is a person of great sense and great caution, and
one to whom our Lord is very bountiful in prayer, it pleased
His Majesty to let her see what learned men failed to dis
cern. My confessors gave me leave to accept relief in some
things from her, because in many ways she was able to afford
it. Some of those graces which our Lord bestowed on me fell
to her lot occasionally, together with instructions most profit
able for her soul. So, then, when she knew that the blessed
man was come, without saying a word to me, she obtained
leave from the Provincial for me to stay eight days in her
house, in order that I might the more easily confer with him.
In that house, and in one church or another, I had many
1 Ch. xxvii. §§ 17, 18, 19.
2 Hoja de lata, "cierta hoja de hierro muy delgada" (Cobarruvias,
Tesoro, in voce).
3 Ch. xxiv. § 5. Dona Guiomar de Ulloa.
218 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXX.
conversations with him the first time he came here; for,
afterwards, I had many communications with him at diverse
times.
4. I gave him an account, as briefly as I could, of my
life, and of my way of prayer, with the utmost clearness
in my power. I have always held to this, to be perfectly
frank and exact with those to whom I make known the
state of my soul.1 Even my first impulses I wish them to
know ; and as for doubtful and suspicious matters, I used to
make the most of them by arguing against myself. Thus,
then, without equivocation or concealment, I laid before him
the state of my soul. I saw almost at once that he under
stood me, by reason of his own experience. That was all I
required; for at that time I did not know myself as I do now,
so as to give an account of my state. It was a later time
that God enabled me to understand myself, and describe the
graces which His Majesty bestows upon me. It was neces
sary, then, that he who would clearly understand and explain
my state should have had experience of it himself.
5. The light he threw on the matter was of the clearest;
for as to these visions, at least, which were not imaginary,
I could not understand how they could be. And it seemed
that I could not understand, too, how those could be which
I saw with the eyes of the soul ; for, as I said before,2 those
visions only seemed to me to be of consequence which were
seen with the bodily eyes: and of these I had none. The
holy man enlightened me on the whole question, explained
it to me, and bade me not to be distressed, but to praise
God, and to abide in the full conviction that this was the
work of the Spirit of God; for, saving the faith, nothing
could be more true, and there was nothing on which I could
more firmly rely. He was greatly comforted in me, was
most kind and serviceable, and ever afterwards took great
care of me, and told me of his own affairs and labours; and
when he saw that I had those very desires which in himself
were fulfilled already, — for our Lord had given me very strong
desires, — and also how great my resolution was, he delighted
in conversing with me.
6. To a person whom our Lord has raised to this state,
there is no pleasure or comfort equal to that of meeting
with another whom our Lord nas begun to raise in the same
1 Ch. xxvi. § 5. 2 Ch. vii. § 12.
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 219
way. At that time, however, it must have been only a be
ginning with me, as I believe ; and God grant I may not have
gone back now. He was extremely sorry for me. He told
me that one of the greatest trials in this world was that
which I had borne, — namely, the contradiction of good peo
ple,1 — and that more was in reserve for me : I had need,
therefore, of some one — and there was no one in this city —
who understood me ; but he would speak to my confessor,
and to that married nobleman, already spoken of,2 who was
one of those who tormented me most, and who, because of
his great affection for me, was the cause of all these attacks.
He was a holy but timid man, and could not feel safe about
me, because he had seen how wicked I was, and that not
long before. The holy man did so; he spoke to them both,
explained the matter and gave them reasons why they should
reassure themselves, and disturb me no more. My confessor
was easily satisfied, — not so the nobleman ; for though they
were not enough to keep him quiet, yet they kept him in
some measure from frightening me so much as he used to do.
7. We made an agreement that I should write to him
and tell him how it fared with me, for the future, and that
we should pray much for each other. Such was his humility,
that he held to the prayers of a wretch like me. It made
me very much ashamed of myself. He left me in the great
est consolation and joy, bidding me continue my prayer with
confidence, and without any doubt that it was the work of
God. If I should have any doubts, for my greater security,
I was to make them known to my confessor, and, having
done so, be in peace. Nevertheless, I was not able at all to
feel that confidence, for our Lord was leading me by the
way of fear; and so, when they told me that the devil had
power over me, I believed them. Thus, then, not one of them
was able to inspire me with confidence on the one hand, or
fear on the other, in such a way as to make me believe either
of them, otherwise than as our Lord allowed me. Accord
ingly, though the holy friar consoled and calmed me, I did
not rely so much on him as to be altogether without fear,
particularly when our Lord forsook me in the afflictions of
my soul, of which I will now speak. Nevertheless, as I
have said, I was very much consoled.
1 See cli. xxviii. § 24. ~ Ch. xxiii. § 7.
220 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [dl. XXX.
8. I could not give thanks enough to God, and to my
glorious father S. Joseph, who seemed to me to have brought
him here. He was the commissary-general of the custody1
of S. Joseph, to whom, and to our Lady, I used to pray much.
9. I suffered at times — and even still, though not so
often — the most grievous spiritual trials, together with bodily
pains and afflictions arising from violent sicknesses ; so much
so, that I could scarcely control myself. At other times,
my bodily sickness was more grievous ; and, as I had no
spiritual pain, I bore it with great joy: but, when both pains
came upon me together, my distress was so heavy, that I
was reduced to sore straits.
10. I forgot all the mercies our Lord had shown me,
and remembered them only as a dream, to my great distress;
for my understanding was so dull, that I had a thousand
doubts and suspicions whether I had ever understood matters
aright, thinking that perhaps all was fancy, and that it was
enough for me to have deceived myself, without also de
ceiving good men. I looked upon myself as so wicked as
to have been the cause, by my sins, of all the evils and all
the heresies that had sprung up. This is but a false humility,
and Satan invented it for the purpose of disquieting me, and
trying whether he could thereby drive my soul to despair. I
have now had so much experience, that I know this was his
work; so he, seeing that I understand him, does not torment
me in the same way as much as he used to do. That it is his
work is clear from the restlessness and discomfort with which
it begins, and the trouble it causes in the soul while it lasts;
from the obscurity and distress, the aridity and indisposition
for prayer and for every good work, which it produces. It
seems to stifle the soul and trammel the body, so as to make
them good for nothing.
11. Now, though the soul acknowledges itself to be miser
able, and though it is painful to us to see ourselves as we are,
and though we have most deep convictions of our own wicked
ness, — deep as those spoken of just now,2 and really felt,
— yet true humility is not attended with trouble ; it does
not disturb the soul ; it causes neither obscurity nor aridity :
on the contrary, it consoles. It is altogether different, bring-
1 A "custody" is a division of the province, in the Order of S.
Francis, comprising a certain number of convents.
2 § 10.
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 221
ing with it calm, sweetness, and light. It is no doubt pain
ful ; but, on the other hand, it is consoling, because we see
how great is the mercy of our Lord in allowing the soul to
have that pain, and how well the soul is occupied. On the
one hand, the soul grieves over its offences against God ;
on the other, His compassion makes it glad. It has light,
which makes it ashamed of itself ; and it gives thanks to
His Majesty, who has borne with it so long. That other
humility, which is the work of Satan, furnishes no light for
any good work ; it pictures God as bringing upon every thing
fire and sword; it dwells upon His justice; and the soul's
faith in the mercy of God — for the power of the devil does not
reach so far as to destroy faith — is of such a nature as to give
me no consolation : on the contrary, the consideration of
mercies so great helps to increase the pain, because I look
upon myself as bound to render greater service.
12. This invention of Satan is one of the most painful,
subtle, and crafty that I have known him to possess ; I should
therefore like to warn you, my father, of it, in order that,
if Satan should tempt you herein, you may have some light,
and be aware of his devices, if your understanding should be
left at liberty: because you must not suppose that learning
and knowledge are of any use here ; for though I have none
of them myself, yet now that I have escaped out of his hands
I see clearly that this is folly. What I understood by it is
this : that it is our Lord's pleasure to give him leave and
license, as He gave him of old to tempt Job ;x though in my
case, because of my wretchedness, the temptation is not so
sharp.
13. It happened to me to be tempted once in this way;
and I remember it was on the day before the vigil of Corpus
Christi, — a feast to which I have great devotion, though not
so great as I ought to have. The trial then lasted only till
the day of the feast itself. But, on other occasions, it con
tinued one, two, and even three weeks, and — I know not —
perhaps longer. But I was specially liable to it during the
Holy Weeks, when it was my habit to make prayer my
joy. Then the devil seizes on my understanding in a mo-,
ment ; and occasionally, by means of things so trivial that
I should laugh at them at any other time, he makes it stumble
over any thing he likes. The soul, laid in fetters, loses all
1 Job i.
222 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXX.
control over itself, and all power of thinking of any thing
but the absurdities he puts before it, which, being more or
less unsubstantial, inconsistent, and disconnected, serve only
to stifle the soul, so that it has no power over itself; and
accordingly — so it seems to me — the devils make a football
of it, and the soul is unable to escape out of their hands. It
is impossible to describe the sufferings of the soul in this
state. It goes about in quest of relief, and God suffers it
to find none. The light of reason, in the freedom of its will,
remains, but it is not clear; it seems to me as if its eyes
were covered with a veil. As a person who, having travelled
often by a particular road, knows, though it be night and
dark, by his past experience of it, where he may stumble,
and where he ought to be on his guard against that risk,
because he has seen the place by day, so the soul avoids
offending God : it seems to go on by habit — that is, if we
put out of sight the fact that our Lord holds it by the hand,
which is the true explanation of the matter.
14. Faith is then as dead, and asleep, like all the other
virtues; not lost, however, — for the soul truly believes all
that the Church holds; but its profession of the faith is
hardly more than an outward profession of the mouth. And,
on the other hand, temptations seem to press it down, and
make it dull, so that its knowledge of God becomes to it
as that of something which it hears of far away. So tepid
is its love that, when it hears God spoken of, it listens and
believes that He is what He is, because the Church so teaches;
but it recollects nothing of its own former experience. Vocal
prayer or solitude is only a greater affliction, because the
interior suffering — whence it comes, it knows not — is unendur
able, and, as it seems to me, in some measure a counterpart
of hell. So it is, as our Lord showed me in a vision;1 for the
soul itself is then burning in the fire, knowing not who has
kindled it, nor whence it comes, nor how to escape it, nor
how to put it out: it it seeks relief from the fire by spiritual
reading, it cannot find any, just as if it could not read at
all. On one occasion, it occurred to me to read a life of a
Saint, that I might forget myself, and be refreshed with the
recital of what he had suffered. Four or five times, I read
as many lines; and, though they were written in Spanish,
I understood them less at the end than I did when I began:
1 See ch. xxxii. § 1, &c.
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 223
so I gave it up. It so happened to me on more occasions
than one, but I have a more distinct recollection of this.
15. To converse with any one is worse, for the devil
then sends so offensive a spirit of bad temper, that I think
I could eat people up; nor can I help myself. I feel that I
do something when I keep myself under control; or rather
our Lord does so, when He holds back with His hand any
one in this state from saying or doing something that may
be hurtful to his neighbours and offensive to God. Then,
as to going to our confessor, that is of no use ; for the certain
result is— and very often has it happened to me— what I
shall now describe. Though my confessors, with whom I
had to do then, and have to do still, are so holy, they spoke
to me and reproved me with such harshness, that they were
astonished at it afterwards when I told them of it. They
said that they could not help themselves; for, though they
had resolved not to use such language, and though they
pitied me also very much,— yea, even had scruples on the
subject, because of my grievous trials of soul and body,—
and were, moreover, determined to console me, they could
not refrain. They did not use unbecoming words — I mean,
words offensive to God; yet their words were the most
offensive that could be borne with in confession. They must
have aimed at mortifying me. At other times, I used to
delight in this, and was prepared to bear it; but it was then
a torment altogether. I used to think, too, that I deceived
them; so I went to them, and cautioned them very earnestly
to be on their guard against me, for it might be that I de
ceived them. I saw well enough that I would not do so
advisedly, nor tell them an untruth;1 but every thing made
me afraid. One of them, on one occasion, when he had heard
me speak of this temptation, told me not to distress myself;
for, even if I wished to deceive him, he had sense enough not
to be deceived. This gave me great comfort.
16. Sometimes, almost always, — at least, very frequently,
— I used to find rest after Communion ; now and then, even,
as I drew near to the most Holy Sacrament, all at once my
soul and body would be so well, that I was amazed.2 It
seemed to be nothing else but an instantaneous dispersion
1 See ch. xxviii. § 6.
2 See Way of Perfection, ch. Ixi. § 2; but ch. xxxiv. § 8 of the
earlier editions.
224 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [dl. XXX.
of the darkness that covered my soul : when the sun rose,
I saw how silly I had been.
17. On other occasions, if our Lord spoke to me but
one word, saying only, "Be not distressed, have no fear,"-
as I said before,1 — I was made whole at once ; or, if I saw
a vision, I was as if I had never been amiss. I rejoiced in
God, and made my complaint to Him, because He permitted
me to undergo such afflictions : yet the recompense was great ;
for almost always, afterwards, His mercies descended upon
me in great abundance. The soul seemed to come forth as
gold out of the crucible, more refined, and made glorious
to behold, our Lord dwelling within it. These trials after
wards are light, though they once seemed to be unendurable ;
and the soul longs to undergo them again, if that be more
pleasing to our Lord. And though trials and persecutions
increase, yet, if we bear them without offending our Lord,
rejoicing in suffering for His sake, it will be all the greater
gain : I, however, do not bear them as they ought to be
borne, but rather in a most imperfect way. At other times,
my trials come upon me — they come still — in another form ;
and then it seems to me as if the very possibility of thinking
a good thought, or desiring the accomplishment of it, were
utterly taken from me : both soul and body are altogether use
less and a heavy burden. However, when I am in this state,
I do not suffer from the other temptations and disquietudes,
but only from a certain loathing of I know not what, and my
soul finds pleasure in nothing.
18. I used to try exterior good work, in order to occupy
myself partly by violence ; and I know well how weak a soul
is when grace is hiding itself. It did not distress me much,
because the sight of my own meanness gave me some satis
faction. On other occasions, I find myself unable to pray
or to fix my thoughts with any distinctness upon God, or
any thing that is good, though I may be alone ; but I have a
sense that I know Him. It is the understanding and the
imagination, I believe, which hurts me here ; for it seems to
me that I have a good will, disposed for all good ; but the
understanding is so lost, that it seems to be nothing else
but a raving lunatic, which nobody can restrain, and of which
I am not mistress enough to keep it quiet for a minute.2
19. Sometimes I laugh at myself, and recognise my
1 Ch. xx. § 23, ch. xxv. § 22, ch. xxvi. § 3. c "Un Credo."
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 225
wretchedness: I watch my understanding, and leave it alone
to see what it will do. Glory be to God, for a wonder, it
never runs on what is wrong, but only on different things,
considering what is going on here, or there, or elsewhere.
I see then, more and more, the exceeding great mercy of our
Lord to me, when He keeps this lunatic bound in the chains
of perfect contemplation. I wonder what would happen if
those people who think I am good knew of my extravagance.
I am very sorry when I see my soul in such bad company; I
long to see it delivered therefrom, and so I say to our Lord:
When, O my God, shall I see my whole soul praising Thee,
that it may have the fruition of Thee in all its faculties? Let
me be no longer, O Lord, thus torn to pieces, and every one of
them, as it were, running in a different direction. This has
been often the case with me, but I think that my scanty bodily
health was now and then enough to bring it about.
20. I dwell much on the harm which original sin has
done us; that is, I believe, what has rendered us incapable
of the fruition of so great a good. My sins, too, must be in
fault; for, if I had not committed so many, I should have
been more perfect in goodness. Another great affliction which
I suffered was this: all the books which I read on the subject
of prayer, I thought I understood thoroughly, and that I
required them no longer, because our Lord had given me
the gift of prayer. I therefore ceased to read those books,
and applied myself to lives of Saints, thinking that this would
improve me and give me courage ; for I found myself very
defective in every kind of service which the Saints rendered
unto God. Then it struck me that I had very little humility,
when I could think that I had attained to this degree of
prayer; and so, when I could not come to any other con
clusion, I was greatly distressed, until certain learned persons,
and the blessed friar, Peter of Alcantara, told me not to
trouble myself about the matter.
21. I see clearly enough that I have not yet begun
to serve God, though He showers down upon me those very
graces which He gives to many good people. I am a mass
of imperfection, except in desire and in love; for herein
I see well that our Lord has been gracious to me, in order
that I may please Him in some measure. I really think
that I love Him ; but my conduct, and the many imperfec
tions I discern in myself, make me sad.
226 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXX.
22. My soul, also, is subject occasionally to a certain
foolishness, — that is the right name to give it, — when I
seem to be doing neither good nor evil, but following in
the wake of others, as they say, without pain or pleasure,
indifferent to life and death, pleasure and pain. I seem to
have no feeling. The soul seems to me like a little ass, which
feeds and thrives, because it accepts the food which is given
it, and eats it without reflection. The soul in this state
must be feeding on some great mercies of God, seeing that
its miserable life is no burden to it, and that it bears it
patiently; but it is conscious of no sensible movements or
results, whereby it may ascertain the state it is in.
23. It seems to me now like sailing with a very gentle
wind, when one makes much way without knowing how;
for in the other states, so great are the effects, that the soul
sees almost at once an improvement in itself, because the
desires instantly are on fire, and the soul is never satisfied.
This comes from those great impetuosities of love, spoken
of before,1 in those to whom God grants them. It is like
those little wells I have seen flowing, wherein the upheaving
of the sand never ceases. This illustration and comparison
seem to me to be a true description of those souls who at
tain to this state ; their love is ever active, thinking what
it may do ; it cannot contain itself, as the water remains not
in the earth, but is continually welling upwards. So is the soul,
in general ; it is not at rest, nor can it contain itself, because
of the love it has : it is so saturated therewith, that it would
have others drink of it, because there is more than enough
for itself, in order that they might help it to praise God.
24. I call to remembrance — oh, how often ! — that living
water of which our Lord spoke to the Samaritan woman.
That Gospel2 has a great attraction for me; and, indeed, so
it had even when I was a little child, though I did not under
stand it then as I do now. I used to pray much to our
Lord for that living water; and I had always a picture of
it. representing our Lord at the well, with this inscription,
"Lord, give me this water."3
1 Ch. xxix.' §11.
2 S. John iv. 5-42: the Gospel of Friday after the Third Sunday in
Lent, where the words are, "hanc aquam."
3 S. John iv. 15 See ch. i. § 6; and Way of Perfection, ch. xxix.
§ 5; ch. xix. § 5 of the earlier editions.
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 227
25. This love is also like a great fire, which requires
fuel continually, in order that it may not burn out. So
those souls I am speaking of, however much it may cost them,
will always bring fuel, in order that the fire may not be
quenched. As for me, I should be glad, considering what
I am, if I had but straw even to throw upon it. And so
it is with me occasionally— and, indeed, very often. At one
time, I laugh at myself; and at another, I am very much
distressed. The inward stirring of my love urges me to
do something for the service of God; and I am not able to do
more than adorn images with boughs and flowers, clean or
arrange an oratory, or some such trifling acts, so that I am
ashamed of myself. If I undertook any penitential practice,
the whole was so slight, and was done in such a way, that if
our Lord did not accept my good will, I saw it was all worth
less, and so I laughed at myself. The failure of bodily
strength, sufficient to do something for God, is no light afflic
tion for those souls to whom He, in His goodness, has com
municated this fire of His love in its fulness. It is a very
great penance ; for when souls are not strong enough to heap
fuel on this fire, and die of fear that the fire may go out, it
seems to me that they become fuel themselves, are reduced
to ashes, or dissolved in tears, and burn away: and this is
suffering enough, though it be sweet.
26. Let him, then, praise our Lord exceedingly, who has
attained to this state; who has received the bodily strength
requisite for penance ; who has learning, ability, and power to
preach, to hear confessions, and to draw souls unto God. Such
a one neither knows nor comprehends the blessing he pos
sesses, unless he knows by experience what it is to be power
less to serve God in any thing, and at the same time to be
receiving much from Him. May He be blessed for ever, and
may the angels glorify Him ! Amen.
27. I know not if I do well to write so much in detail.
But as you, my father, bade me again not to be troubled by
the minuteness of my account, nor to omit any thing, I go on
recounting clearly and truly all I can call to mind. But I
must omit much; for if I did not, I should have to spend
more time — and, as I said before,1 I have so little to spend,
and perhaps, after all, nothing will be gained.
' Ch. xiv. § 12.
228 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXI.
OF CERTAIN OUTWARD TEMPTATIONS AND APPEARANCES OF
SATAN OF THE SUFFERINGS THEREBY OCCASIONED COUN
SELS FOR THOSE WHO GO ON UNTO PERFECTION.
1. Now that I have described certain temptations and
troubles, interior and secret, of which Satan was the cause, I
will speak of others which he wrought almost in public, and
in which his presence could not be ignored.1
2. I was once in an oratory, when Satan, in an abomin
able shape, appeared on my left hand. I looked at his mouth
in particular, because he spoke, and it was horrible. A huge
flame seemed to issue out of his body, perfectly bright, with
out any shadow. He spoke in a fearful way, and said to me
that, though I had escaped out of his hands, he would yet
lay hold of me again. I was in great terror, made the sign
of the cross as well as I could, and then the form vanished —
but it reappeared instantly. This occurred twice. I did not
know what to do ; there was some holy water at hand ; I
took some, and threw it in the direction of the figure, and
then Satan never returned.
3. On another occasion, I was tortured for five hours
with such terrible pains, such inward and outward sufferings,
that it seemed to me as if I could not bear them. Those who
were with me were frightened ; they knew not what to do,
and I could not help myself. I am in the habit, when these
pains and my bodily suffering are most unendurable, to make
interior acts as well as I can, imploring our Lord, if it be
His will, to give me patience, and then to let me suffer on,
even to the end of the world. So, when I found myself suffer
ing so cruelly, I relieved myself by making those acts and
resolutions, in order that I might be able to endure the pain.
It pleased* our Lord to let me understand that it was the
work of Satan ; for I saw close beside me a most frightful
little negro, gnashing his teeth in despair at losing what he
attempted to seize. When I saw him, I laughed, and had
no fear; for there were some then present who were helpless,
and knew of no means whereby so great a pain could be
1 2 Cor. ii. 11.
SIXTH FOUNDATION— MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del.
1. Church of St. Joseph. The adjoining house is built on the original site
of the convent. 2. Drum used in the monastery on certain days of recreation
in the time of St. Teresa. 3. Tambourine of the same period. 4. Impression
of a seal engraved on a steel used by St. Teresa. Slightly different from those at
Valladolid, larger, and with the monogram of our Lord supported by an eagle.
5. Copper hand- warmer used by St Teresa during the winter of 157*5. when she
was writing her book of Foundations. fi Monastery of Di«ealeed fjirmelites «f
St. Clare, called The Royal Discalced at Madrid, which St Teresa visited in 1567.
ST. JOSEPH AT TOLEDO.
Bruges, P Rao.ux.
7. Hermitages of la Slerra-Morena near Cordova, in 1845. 8. Beatrix of Jesus, niece of
St. Teresa, prioress of the monastery at Toledo, in 1607. 9. Monastery of Discalced
Carmelites, as seen from the side of the Vega baja. 10. Monastery. Group of
Carlists being led through the town to execution in the Civil War of 1836. 11.
Ruins (in 1862) of the Observant monastery, where St. John of the Cross was im
prisoned. 12. Arms of de Mascarenes family. 13. Arms of the Tello Giron family.
14. Arms of the family of de la Cerda. 15. Arms of the imperial city of Toledo.
(See Appendix, note 12.)
CH. XXXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 229
relieved. My body, head, and arms were violently shaken;
I could not help myself: but the worst of all was the interior
pain, for I could find no ease in any way. Nor did I dare to
ask for holy water, lest they who were with me should be
afraid, and find out what the matter really was.
4. I know by frequent experience that there is nothing
which puts the devils to flight like holy water. They run
away before the sign of the cross also, but they return im
mediately : great, then, must be the power of holy water. As
for me, my soul is conscious of a special and most distinct
consolation whenever I take it. Indeed, I feel almost always
a certain refreshing, which I cannot describe, together with
an inward joy, which comforts my whole soul. This is no
fancy, nor a thing which has occurred once only; for it has
happened very often, and I have watched it very carefully.
I may compare what I feel with that which happens to a
person in great heat, and very thirsty, drinking a cup of
cold water — his whole being is refreshed. I consider that
every thing ordained by the Church is very important; and
I have a joy in reflecting that the words of the Church are
so mighty, that they endow water with power, so that there
shall be so great a difference between holy water and water
that has never been blessed. Then, as my pains did not
cease, I told them, if they would not laugh, I would ask for
some holy water. They brought me some, and sprinkled
me with it; but I was no better. I then threw some myself
in the direction of the negro, when he fled in a moment. All
my sufferings ceased, just as if some one had taken them
from me with his hand ; only I was wearied, as if I had been
beaten with many blows. It was of great service to me to
learn that if, by our Lord's permission, Satan can do so much
evil to a soul and body not in his power, he can do much more
when he has them in his possession. It gave me a renewed
desire to be delivered from a fellowship so dangerous.
5. Another time, and not long ago, the same thing
happened to me, though it did not last so long, and I was
alone at the moment. I asked for holy water ; and they
who came in after the devil had gone away, — they were two
nuns, worthy of all credit, and who would not tell a lie
for any thing, — perceived a most offensive smell, like that
of brimstone. I smelt nothing myself; but the odour lasted
long enough to become sensible to them.
230 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXI.
6. On another occasion, I was in choir, when, in a moment,
I became profoundly recollected. I went out, in order that
the sisters might know nothing of it; yet those who were
near heard the sound of heavy blows where I was, and I
heard voices myself, as of persons in consultation, but I did
not hear what they said: I was so absorbed in prayer, that
I understood nothing, neither was I at all afraid. This took
place almost alwrays when our Lord was pleased that some
soul or other, persuaded by me, advanced in the spiritual
life. Certainly, what I am now about to describe happened
to me once; there are witnesses to testify to it, particularly
my present confessor, for he saw the account in a letter. I
did not tell him from whom the letter came, but he knew
perfectly who the person was.
7. There came to me a person who, for two years and
a half, had been living in mortal sin of the most abominable
nature I ever heard. During the whole of that time, he neither
confessed it nor ceased from it ; and yet he said Mass. He
confessed his other sins; but of this one he used to say, How
can I confess so foul a sin? He wished to give it up, but
he could not prevail on himself to do so. I was very sorry
for him, and it was a great grief to me to see God offended
in such a wray. I promised him that I would pray to God
for his amendment, and get others who were better than I
to do the same. I wrote to one person, and the priest under
took to get the letter delivered. It came to pass that he
made a full confession at the first opportunity ; for our Lord
God was pleased, on account of the prayers of those most
holy persons to whom I had recommended him, to have pity
on this soul. I, too, wretched as I am, did all I could for the
same end.
8. He wrote to me, and said that he was so far improved,
that he had not for some days repeated his sin; but he was
so tormented by the temptation, that it seemed to him as if
he were in hell already, so great were his sufferings. He
asked me to pray to God for him. I recommended him to
my sisters, through whose prayers I must have obtained this
mercy from our Lord; for they took the matter greatly to
heart ; and he was a person whom no one could find out. I
implored His Majesty to put an end to these torments and
temptations, and to let the evil spirits torment me instead,
provided I did not offend our Lord. Thus it was that for one
CH. XXXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 231
month I was most grievously tormented ; and then it was that
those two assaults of Satan, of which I have just spoken, took
place.
9. Our Lord was pleased to deliver him out of this
temptation, so I was informed ; for I told him what happened
to myself that month. His soul gained strength, and he con
tinued free; he could never give thanks enough to our Lord
and to me, as if I had been of any service — unless it be that
the belief he had that our Lord granted me such graces was
of some advantage to him. He said that, when he saw himself-
in great straits, he would read my letters, and then the tempta
tion left him. He was very much astonished at my sufferings,
and at the manner of his own deliverance : even I myself
am astonished, and I would suffer as much for many years
for the deliverance of that soul. May our Lord be praised
for ever! for the prayers of those who serve Him can do
great things ; and I believe the sisters of this house do serve
Him. The devils must have been more angry with me only
because I asked them to pray, and because our Lord permitted
it on account of my sins. At that time, too, I thought the
evil spirits would have suffocated me one night, and when
the sisters threw much holy water about I saw a great troop
of them rush away as if tumbling over a precipice. These
cursed spirits have tormented me so often, and I am now
so little afraid of them, — because I see they cannot stir with
out our Lord's permission, — that I should weary both you, my
father, and myself, if I were to speak of these things in detail.
10. May this I have written be of use to the true servant
of God, who ought to despise these terrors, which Satan sends
only to make him afraid ! Let him understand that each
time we despise those terrors, their force is lessened, and the
soul gains power over them. There is always some great
good obtained ; but I will not speak of it, that I may not be
too diffuse. I will speak, however, of what happened to me
once on the night of All Souls. I was in an oratory, and,
having said one Nocturn, was saying some very devotional
prayers at the end of our Breviary, when Satan put himself
on the book before me, to prevent my finishing my prayer.
I made the sign of the cross, and he went awray. I then
returned to my prayer, and he, too, came back ; he did so,
I believe, three times, and I was not able to finish the prayer
without throwing holy water at him. I saw certain souls at
232 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXI.
that moment come forth out of purgatory — they must have
been near their deliverance, and I thought that Satan might
in this way have been trying to hinder their release. It was
very rarely that I saw Satan assume a bodily form ; I know of
his presence through the vision I have spoken of before,1 the
vision wherein no form is seen.
11. I wish also to relate what follows, for I was greatly
alarmed at it: on Trinity Sunday, in the choir of a certain
monastery, and in a trance, I saw a great fight between evil
spirits and the angels. I could not make out what the vision
meant. In less than a fortnight, it was explained clearly
enough by the dispute that took place between persons given
to prayer and many who were not, which did great harm to
that house; for it was a dispute that lasted long, and caused
much trouble. On another occasion, I saw a great multitude
of evil spirits round about me, and, at the same time, a
great light, in which I was enveloped, which kept them from
coming near me. I understood it to mean that God was
watching over me, that they might not approach me so as
to make me offend Him. I knew the vision was real by what
I saw occasionally in myself. The fact is, I know now how
little power the evil spirits have, provided I am not out of
the grace of God; I have scarcely any fear of them at all,
for their strength is as nothing; if they do not find the
souls they assail give up the contest, and become cowards,
it is in this case that they show their power.
12. Now and then, during the temptations I am speak
ing of, it seemed to me as if all my vanity and weakness in
times past had become alive again within me ; so I had reason
enough to commit myself into the hands of God. Then I was
tormented by the thought that, as these things came back
to my memory, I must be utterly in the power of Satan,
until my confessor consoled me; for I imagined that even
the first movement towards an evil thought ought not to
have come near one who had received from our Lord such
great graces as I had.
13. At other times, I was much tormented — and even
now I am tormented — when I saw people make much of me,
particularly great people, and when they spake well of me.
I have suffered, and still suffer, much in this way. I think
at once of the life of Christ and of the Saints, and then my
1 Ch. xxvii. 8 4.
CH. XXXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 233
life seems the reverse of theirs, for they received nothing
but contempt and ill-treatment. All this makes me afraid;
I dare not lift up my head, and I wish nobody saw me at all.
It is not thus with me when I am persecuted; then my soul
is so conscious of strength, though the body suffers, and
though I am in other ways afflicted, that I do not know how
this can be; but so it is, — and my soul seems then to be a
queen in its kingdom, having every thing under its feet.
14. I had such a thought now and then — and, indeed,
for many days together. I regarded it as a sign of virtue
and of humility; but I see clearly now that it was nothing
else but a temptation. A Dominican friar, of great learn
ing, showed it to me very plainly. When I considered that
the graces which our Lord had bestowed upon me might
come to the knowledge of the public, my sufferings became
so excessive as greatly to disturb my soul. They went so
far, that I made up my mind, while thinking of it, that I
would rather be buried alive than have these things known.
And so, when I began to be profoundly recollected, or to
fall into a trance, which I could not resist even in public,
I was so ashamed of myself, that I would not appear where
people might see me.
15. Once, when I was much distressed at this, our Lord
said to me, What was I afraid of? one of two things must
happen — people would either speak ill of me, or give glory
to Him. He made me understand by this, that those who
believed in the truth of what was going on in me would
glorify Him; and that those who did not would condemn
me without cause: in both ways I should be the gainer, and
I was therefore not to distress myself.1 This made me quite
calm, and it comforts me whenever I think of it.
16. This temptation became so excessive, that I wished
to leave the house, and take my dower to another monastery,
where enclosure was more strictly observed than in that
wherein I was at this time. I had heard great things of that
other house, which was of the same Order as mine , it was
also at a great distance, and it would have been a great
consolation to me to live where I was not known ; but my
confessor would never let me go. These fears deprived me
in a great measure of all liberty of spirit ; and I understood
afterwards that this wras not true humility, because it dis-
1 See Inner Fortress, vi. ch. iv. § 12.
234 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXI.
turbed me so much. And our Lord taught me this truth :
if I was convinced, and certainly persuaded, that all that
was good in me came wholly and only from God, and if it did
not distress me to hear the praises of others, — yea, rather,
if I was pleased and comforted when I saw that God was
working in them, — then neither should I be distressed if
He showed forth His works in me.
17. I fell, too, into another extreme. I begged of God,
and made it a particular subject of prayer, that it might
please His Majesty, whenever any one saw any good in me,
that such a one might also become acquainted with my sins,
in order that he might see that His graces were bestowed
on me without any merit on my part: and I always greatly
desire this. My confessor told me not to do it. But almost
to this day, if I saw that any one thought well of me, I used
in a roundabout way, or anyhow, as I could, to contrive he
should know of my sins :x that seemed to relieve me. But
they have made me very scrupulous on this point. This,
it appears to me, was not an effect of humility, but often
times the result of temptation. It seemed to me that I was
deceiving every body — though, in truth, they deceived them
selves, by thinking that there was any good in me.2 I did
not wish to deceive them, nor did I ever attempt it, only
our Lord permitted it for some end; and so, even with my
confessors, I never discussed any of these matters if I did
not see the necessity of it, for that would have occasioned
very considerable scruples.
18. All these little fears and distresses, and semblance
of humility, I now see clearly were mere imperfections, and
the result of my unmortined life ; for a soul left in the hands
of God cares nothing about evil or good report, if it clearly
comprehends, when our Lord is pleased to bestow upon
it His grace, that it has nothing of its own. Let it trust the
Giver; it will know hereafter why He reveals His gifts,
and prepare itself for persecution, which in these times is
sure to come, when it is our Lord's will it should be known
of any one that He bestows upon him graces such as these ;
for a thousand eyes are watching that soul, while a thousand
1 Way of Perfection, ch. Ixv. § 2; but ch. xxxvi. of the previous
editions.
2 See ch. x. § 10.
CH. XXXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 235
souls of another order are observed of none. In truth, there
was no little ground for fear, and that fear should have been
mine: I was therefore not humble, but a coward; for a soul
which God permits to be thus seen of men may well prepare
itself to be the world's martyr — because, if it will not die
to the world voluntarily, that very world will kill it.
19. Certainly, I see nothing in the world that seems to
me good except this, that it tolerates no faults in good people,
and helps them to perfection by dint of complaints against
them. I mean, that it requires greater courage in one not
yet perfect to walk in the way of perfection than to undergo
an instant martyrdom; for perfection is not attained to at
once, unless our Lord grant that grace by a special privilege :
yet the world, when it sees any one beginning to travel on
that road, insists on his becoming perfect at once, and a
thousand leagues off detects in him a fault, which after all
may be a virtue. He who finds fault is doing the very same
thing, — but, in his own case, viciously, — and he pronounces
it to be so wrong in the other. He who aims at perfection,
then, must neither eat nor sleep, — nor, as they say, even
breathe; and the more men respect such a one, the more
do they forget that he is still in the body ; and, though they
may consider him perfect, he is living on the earth, subject
to its miseries, however much he may tread them under
his feet. And so, as I have just said, great courage is neces
sary here ; for, though the poor soul have not yet begun to
walk, the world will have it fly; and, though its passions
be not wholly overcome, men will have it that they must
be under restraint, even upon trying occasions, as those of
the Saints are, of whom they read, after they are confirmed
in grace.
20. All this is a reason for praising God, and also for
great sorrow of heart, because very many go backwards
who, poor souls, know not how to help themselves ; and I
too, I believe, would have gone back also, if our Lord had
not so mercifully on His part done every thing for me. And
until He, of His goodness, had done all, nothing was done
by me, as you, my father, may have seen already, beyond
falling and rising again. I wish I knew how to explain it,
because many souls, I believe, delude themselves in this
matter ; they would fly before God gives them wings.
21. I believe I have made this comparison on another
236 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [dl. XXXI.
occasion,1 but it is to the purpose here, for I see certain souls
are very greatly afflicted on that ground. When these souls
begin, with great fervour, courage, and desire, to advance
in virtue, — some of them, at least outwardly, giving up all
for God, — when they see in others, more advanced than them
selves, greater fruits of virtue given them by our Lord, —
for we cannot acquire these of ourselves, — when they see
in all the books written on prayer and on contemplation
an account of what we have to do in order to attain thereto,
but which they cannot accomplish themselves, — they lose
heart. For instance, they read that we must not be troubled
when men speak ill of us, that we are to be then more
pleased than when they speak well of us ; that we must
despise our own good name, be detached from our kindred,
avoid their company, which should be wearisome to us, un
less they be given to prayer; with many other things of the
same kind. The disposition to practise this must be, in my
opinion, the gift of God ; for it seems to me a supernatural
good, contrary to our natural inclinations. Let them not
distress themselves ; let them trust in our Lord : what they
now desire, His Majesty will enable them to attain to by
prayer, and by doing what they can themselves ; for it is
very necessary for our weak nature that we should have
great confidence, that we should not be faint-Hearted, nor
suppose that, if we do our best, we shall fail to obtain the
victory at last. And as my experience here is large, I will
say, by way of caution to you, my father, do not think —
though it may seem so — that a virtue is acquired when we
have not tested it by its opposing vice : we must always
be suspicious of ourselves, and never negligent while we live ;
for much evil clings to us if, as I said before,2 grace be not
given to us fully to understand what every thing is : and in
this life there is nothing without great risks.
22. I thought a few years ago, not only that I was
detached from my kindred, but that they were a burden to
me ; and certainly it was so, for I could not endure their
conversation. An affair of some importance had to be settled,
and I had to remain with a sister of mine, for whom I had
always before had a great affection. The conversation we
had together, though she is better than I am, did not please
1 Ch. xiii. § 3. 2 Ch. xx. § 33.
CH. XXXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 237
me; for it could not always be on subjects I preferred, owing
to the difference of our conditions — she being married. I
was therefore as much alone as I could; yet I felt that her
troubles gave me more trouble than did those of my neigh
bours, and even some anxiety. In short, I found out that
I was not so detached as I thought, and that it was neces
sary for me to flee from dangerous occasions, in order that
the virtue which our Lord had begun to implant in me might
grow; and so, by His help, I have striven to do from that
time till now.
23. If our Lord bestows any virtue upon us, we must
make much of it, and by no means run the risk of losing
it; so it is in those things which concern our good name,
and many other matters. You, my father, must believe that
we are not all of us detached, though w^e think we are; it
is necessary for us never to be careless on this point. If any
one detects in himself any tenderness about his good name,
and yet wishes to advance in the spiritual life, let him be
lieve me and throw this embarrassment behind his back,
for it is a chain which no file can sever; only the help of
God, obtained by prayer and much striving on his part, can
do it. It seems to me to be a hindrance on the road, and I
am astonished at the harm it does. I see some persons so
holy in their works, and they are so great as to fill people
with wonder. O my God, why is their soul still on the earth?
Why has it not arrived at the summit of perfection? What
does it mean? What keeps him back who does so much for
God? Oh, there it is! — self-respect; and the worst of it is,
that these persons will not admit that they have it, merely
because Satan now and then convinces them that they are
under an obligation to observe it.
24. Well, then, let them believe me: for the love of our
Lord, let them give heed to the little ant, who speaks because
it is His pleasure. If they take not this caterpillar away,
though it does not hurt the whole tree, because some virtues
remain, the worm will eat into every one of them. Not only
is the tree not beautiful, but it also never thrives, neither
does it suffer the others near it to thrive ; for the fruit of
good example which it bears is not sound, and endures but
a short time. I say it again and again, let our self-respect be
ever so slight, it will have the same results as the missing
of a note on the organ when it is played, — the whole music
238 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXI.
is out of tune. It is a thing which hurts the soul exceedingly
in every way, but it is a pestilence in the way of prayer.
25. Are we striving after union with God? and do we
wish to follow the counsels of Christ, — who was loaded with
reproaches and falsely accused, — and, at the same time, to
keep our own reputation and credit untouched? We cannot
succeed, for these things are inconsistent one with another.
Our Lord comes to the soul when we do violence to ourselves,
and strive to give up our rights in many things. Some will
say, I have nothing that I can give up, nor have I any oppor
tunity of doing so. I believe that our Lord will never suffer
any one who has made so good a resolution as this to miss
so great a blessing. His Majesty will make so many arrange
ments for him, whereby he may acquire this virtue, — more
frequently, perhaps, than he will like. Let him put his hand
to the work. I speak of the liltle nothings and trifles which
I gave up when I began — or, at least, of some of them : the
straws which I said1 I threw into the fire; for I am not
able to do more. All this our Lord accepted: may He be
blessed for evermore !
26. One of my faults was this: I had a very imperfect
knowledge of my Breviary and of my duties in choir, simply
because I was careless and given to vanities: and I knew
the other novices could have taurht me. But I never asked
them, that they might not know how little I knew. It sug
gested itself to me at once, that I ought to set a good
example : this is very common. Now, however, that God has
opened my eyes a little, even when I know a thing, but
yet am very slightly in doubt about it, I ask the children.
I have lost neither honour nor credit by it — on the contrary
I believe our Lord has been pleased to strengthen my memory
My singing of the Office was bad, and I felt it much if I
had not learned the part intrusted to me, — not because I
made mistakes before our Lord, which would have been a
virtue, but because I made them before the many nuns who
heard me. I was so full of my own reputation, that I was
disturbed, and therefore did not sing what I had to sing
even so well as I might have done. Afterwards, I ventured,
when I did not know it very well, to say so. At first, I
felt it very much ; but afterwards I found pleasure in doing it.
So, when I began to be indifferent about its being known that
1 Ch. xxx. § 25.
CH. XXXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 239
I could not sing well, it gave me no pain at all, and I sang
much better. This miserable seli-esteem took from me the
power of doing that which I regarded as an honour, for every
one regards as honourable that which he likes.
27. By trifles such as these, which are nothing, — and
I am altogether nothing myself, seeing that this gave me
pain, — by little and little, doing such actions, and by such
slight performances, — they become of worth because done
for God, — His Majesty helps us on towards greater things;
and so it happened to me in the matter of humility. When I
saw that all the nuns except myself were making great pro
gress, — I was always myself good for nothing, — I used to
fold up their mantles when they left the choir. 1 locked on
myself as doing service to angels who had been there prais
ing God. T did so till they — I know not how — found it out;
and then I was not a little ashamed, because my virtue was not
strong enough to bear that they should know of it. But the
shame arose, not because I was humble, but because I was
afraid they would laugh at me, the matter being so trLling.
28. O Lord, what a shame for me to lay bare so much
wickedness, and to number these grains of sand, which yet I
did not raise up from the ground in Thy service without
mixing them with a thousand meannesses! The waters of
Thy grace were not as yet flowing beneath them, so
as to make them ascend upwards. O my Creator, oh,
that I had any thing worth recounting amid so many
evil things, when I am recounting the great mercies I re
ceived at Thy hands ! So it is, O my Lord. I know not how
my heart could have borne it, nor how any one who shall
read this can help having me in abhorrence when he sees
that mercies so great had been so ill-requited, and that I
have not been ashamed to speak of these services. Ah ! they
are only mine, O my Lord; but I am ashamed I have nolhinrj
else to say of myself, and that it is that makes me speak
of these wretched beginnings, in order that he who has
begun more nobly may have hope that our Lord, v/ho has
made much of mine, will make more of his. May it p?eare
His Majesty to give me this grace, that I may not remaH
for ever at the beginning! Amen.1
1 Don Vicente de la Fuente thinks the first "Life" end^d l^ro; that
which follows was written under obedience to her con^es^r, F. Gircia
of Toledo, and after the foundation of the monastery of S. To«eniit Avila.
240 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH, XXXH.
CHAPTER XXXII.
OUR LORD SHOWS S, TERESA THE PLACE WHICH SHE HAD BY
HER SINS DESERVED IN HELL THE TORMENTS THERE
HOW THE MONASTERY OF S. JOSEPH WAS FOUNDED.
1. SOME considerable time after our Lord had bestowed
upon me the graces I have been describing, and others also
of a higher nature, I was one day in prayer, when I found
myself in a moment, without knowing how, plunged appar
ently into hell. I understood that it was our Lord's will
I should see the place which the devils kept in readiness
for me, and which I had deserved by my sins. It was but
a moment, but it seems to me impossible I should ever forget
it even if I were to live many years.
2. The entrance seemed to be by a long and narrow
pass, like a furnace, very low, dark, and close. The ground
seemed to be saturated with water, mere mud, exceedingly
foul, sending forth pestilential odours, and covered with loath
some vermin. At the end was a hollow place in the wall,
like a closet, and in that I saw myself confined. All this
was even pleasant to behold in comparison with what I felt
there. There is no exaggeration in what I am saying.
3. But as to what I then felt, I do not know where to
begin, if I were to describe it; it is utterly inexplicable. I
felt a fire in my soul. I cannot see how it is possible to
describe it. My bodily sufferings were unendurable. I have
undergone most painful sufferings in this life, and, as the
physicians say, the greatest that can be borne, such as the
contraction of my sinews when I was paralysed,1 without
speaking of others of different kinds, yea, even those of
which I have also spoken,2 inflicted on me by Satan; yet all
these were as nothing in comparison with what I felt then,
especially when I saw that there would be no intermission,
nor any end to them.
4. These sufferings were nothing in comparison with
the anguish of my soul, a sense of oppression, of stifling,
and of pain so keen, accompanied by so hopeless and cruel
an infliction, that I know not how to speak of it. If I said
1 See ch. v. § 14, ch. vi. § 1. * Ch. xxxi. § 3.
CH. XXXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 241
that the soul is continually being torn from the body, it
would be nothing, for that implies the destruction of life by
the hands of another; but here it is the soul itself that is
tearing itself in pieces. I cannot describe that inward fire
or that despair, surpassing all torments and all pain. I did
not see who it was that tormented me, but I felt myself on
fire, and torn to pieces, as it seemed to me ; and, I repeat it,
this inward fire and despair are the greatest torments of
all.
5. Left in that pestilential place, and utterly without
the power to hope for comfort, I could neither sit nor lie
down ; there was no room. I was placed as it were in a
hole in the wall; and those walls, terrible to look on of
themselves, hemmed me in on every side. I could not breathe.
There was no light, but all was thick darkness. I do not
understand how it is ; though there was no light, yet every
thing that can give pain by being seen was visible.
6. Our Lord at that time would not let me see more
of hell. Afterwards, I had another most fearful vision, in
which I saw the punishment of certain sins. They were
most horrible to look at; but, because I felt none of the
pain, my terror was not so great. In the former vision, our
Lord made me really feel those torments, and that anguish
of spirit, just as if I had been suffering them in the body
there. I know not how it was, but I understood distinctly
that it was a great mercy that our Lord would have me see
with mine own eyes the very place from which His compas
sion saved me. I have listened to people speaking of these
things, and I have at other times dwelt on the various tor
ments of hell, though not often, because my soul made no
progress by the way of fear ; and I have read of the diverse
tortures, and how the devils tear the flesh with red-hot pincers.
But all is as nothing before this ; it is a wholly different
matter. In short, the one is a reality, the other a picture ;
and all burning here in this life is as nothing in comparison
with the fire that is there.
7. I was so terrified by that vision, — and that terror
is on me even now while I am writing, — that though it took
place nearly six years ago,1 the natural warmth of my body
is chilled by fear even now when I think of it. And so,
amid all the pain and suffering which I may have had to
'In 1558 (De la Fuente).
242 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXII.
Lear, 1 remember no time in which I do not think that all
we have to suffer in this world is as nothing. It seems to
me that we complain without reason. I repeat it, this vision
was one of the grandest mercies of our Lord. It has been
to me of the greatest service, because it has destroyed my
fear of trouble and of the contradiction of the world, and
because it has made me strong enough to bear up against
them, and to give thanks to our Lord, who has been my
Deliverer, as it now seems to me, from such fearful and
everlasting pains.
8. Ever since that time, as I was saying, every thing
seems endurable in comparison with one instant of suffer
ings such as those I had then to bear in hell. I am filled
with fear when I see that, after frequently reading books
which describe in some manner the pains of hell, I was not
afraid of them, nor made any account of them. Where was
I? How could I possibly take any pleasure in those things
which led me directly to so dreadful a place? Blessed for
ever be Thou, O my God! and, oh, how manifest is it that
Thou didst love me much more than I did love Thee ! How
often, O Lord, didst Thou save me from that fearful prison !
and how I used to get back to it contrary to Thy will !
9. It was that vision that filled me with the very great
distress which I feel at the sight of so many lost souls,
especially of the Lutherans, — for they were once members
of the Church by baptism, — and also gave me the most vehe
ment desires for the salvation of souls; for certainly I be
lieve that, to save even one from those overwhelming tor
ments, I would most willingly endure many deaths. If here
on earth we see one whom we specially love in great trouble
or pain, our very nature seems to bid us compassionate him ;
and if those pains be great, we are troubled ourselves. What,
then, must it be to see a soul in danger of pain, the most
grievous of all pains for ever? Who can endure it? It is a
thought no heart can bear without great anguish. Here we
know that pain ends with life at last, and that there are
limits to it; yet the sight of it moves our compassion so
greatly. That other pain has no ending; and I know not
how we can be calm, when we see Satan carry so many souls
daily away.
10. This also makes me wish that, in a matfer which
concerns us so much, we did not rest satisfied with doing
CH. XXXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 243
less than we can do on our part, — that we left nothing undone.
May our Lord vouchsafe to give us His grace for that
end ! When I consider that, notwithstanding my very great
wickedness, I took some pains to please God, and abstained
from certain things which I know the world makes light of,
— that, in short, I suffered grievous infirmities, and with
great patience, which our Lord gave me ; that I was not
inclined to murmur or to speak ill of any body ; that I could
not — I believe so — wish harm to any one ; that I was not, to
the best of my recollection, either avaricious or envious, so
as to be grievously offensive in the sight of God ; and that
I was free from many other faults, — for, though so wicked,
I had lived constantly in the fear of God, — I had to look at
the very place which the devils kept ready for me. It is
true, that, considering my faults, I had deserved a still heavier
chastisement ; but for all that, I repeat it, the torment was
fearful, and we run a great risk whenever we please our
selves. No soul should take either rest or pleasure that is
liable to fall every moment into mortal sin. Let us, then,
for the love of God, avoid all occasions of sin, and our Lord
will help us, as He has helped me. May it please His Majesty
never to let me out of His hands, lest I should turn back
and fall, now that I have seen the place where I must dwell
if I do. I entreat our Lord, for His Majesty's sake, never to
permit it. Amen.
11. When I had seen this vision, and had learned other
great and hidden things which our Lord, of His goodness,
was pleased to show me, — namely, the joy of the blessed
and the torment of the wicked, — I longed for the way and
the means of doing penance for the great evil I had done,
and of meriting in some degree, so that I might gain so
great a good ; and therefore I wished to avoid all society,
and to withdraw myself utterly from the world. I was in
spirit restless, yet my restlessness was not harassing, but
rather pleasant. I saw clearly that it was the work of God,
and that His Majesty had furnished my soul with fervour, so
that I might be able to digest other and stronger food than
I had been accustomed to eat. I tried to think what I
could do for God, and thought that the first thing was to
follow my vocation to a religious life, which His Majesty
had given me, by keeping my rule in the greatest perfection
possible.
244 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [dl. XXXIT.
12. Though in that house in which I then lived there
were many servants of God, and God was greatly served
therein, yet, because it was very poor, the nuns left it very
often and went to other places, where, however, we could
serve God in all honour and observances of religion. The
rule also was kept, not in its original exactness, but accord
ing to the custom of the whole Order, authorised by the
Bull of Mitigation. There were other inconveniences also :
we had too many comforts, as it seemed to me ; for the house
was large and pleasant. But this inconvenience of going out,
though it was I that took most advantage of it, was a very
grievous one for me ; for many persons, to whom my superiors
could not say no, were glad to have me with them. My
superiors, thus importuned, commanded me to visit these
persons ; and thus it was so arranged that I could not be long
together in the monastery. Satan, too, must have had a share
in this, in order that I might not be in the house, where I was
of great service to those of my sisters to whom I continually
communicated the instructions which I received from my
confessors.
13. It occurred once to a person with whom I was speak
ing to say to me and the others that it was possible to find
means for the foundation of a monastery, if we were pre
pared to become nuns like those of the Barefooted Orders.1
I, having this desire, began to discuss the matter with that
widowed lady who was my companion, — I have spoken of
her before,2 — and she had the same wish that I had. She
began to consider how to provide a revenue for the home.
I see now that this was not the way, — only the wish we had
to do so made us think it was; but I, on the other hand,
seeing that I took the greatest delight in the house in which
I was then living, because it was very pleasant to me, and,
in my own cell, most convenient for my purpose, still held
back. Nevertheless, we agreed to commit the matter with all
earnestness to God.
14. One day, after Communion, our Lord commanded
me to labour with all my might for this end. He made me
1 This was said by Maria de Ocampo, niece of S. Teresa, then
living in the monastery of the Incarnation, but not a religious; after
wards Maria Bautista, Prioress of the Carmelites- at Valladolid
(Ribera, i. 13).
2 Ch. xxiv. § 7. Dona Guiomar de Ulloa.
CH. XXXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 245
great promises, — that the monastery would be certainly built ;
that He would take great delight therein ; that it should be
called S. Joseph's ; that S. Joseph would keep guard at one
door, and our Lady at the other; that Christ would be in
the midst of us ; that the monastery would be a star shining
in great splendour; that, though the religious Orders were
then relaxed, I was not to suppose that He was scantily
served in them, — for what would become of the world, if
there were no religious in it? — I was to tell my confessor
what He commanded me, and that He asked him not to oppose
nor thwart me in the matter.
15. So efficacious was the vision, and such was the nature
of the words our Lord spoke to me, that I could not possibly
doubt that they came from Him. I suffered most keenly,
because I saw in part the great anxieties and troubles that
the work would cost me, and I was also very happy in the
house I was in then ; and though I used to speak of this
matter in past times, yet it was not with resolution nor with
any confidence that the thing could ever be done. I saw
that I was now in a great strait; and when I saw that I was
entering on a work of great anxiety, I hesitated ; but our Lord
spoke of it so often to me, and set before me so many reasons
and motives, which I saw could not be gainsaid, — I saw, too,
that such was His will ; so I did not dare do otherwise than put
the whole matter before my confessor, and give him an account
in writing of all that took place.
16. My confessor did not venture definitely to bid me
abandon my purpose ; but he saw that naturally there was
no way of carrying it out; because my friend, who was to
do it, had very little or no means available for that end. He
told me to lay the matter before my superior,1 and do what
he might bid me do. I never spoke of my visions to my
superior, but that lady who desired to found the monastery
communicated with him. The Provincial was very much
pleased, for he loves the whole Order, gave her every help
that was necessary, and promised to acknowledge the house.
Then there was a discussion about the revenues of the monas
tery, and for many reasons we never would allow more than
thirteen sisters together. Before we began our arrangements,
we wrote to the holy friar. Peter of Alcantara, telling him
1 The Provincial of the Carmelites: Fr. Angel de Salasar (De la
Fuente}.
246 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXII.
all that was taking place; and he advised us not to abandon
our work, and gave us his sanction on all points.
17. As soon as the affair began to be known here, there
fell upon us a violent persecution, which cannot be very easily
described — sharp sayings and keen jests. People said it was
folly in me, who was so well off in my monastery; as to my
friend, the persecution was so continuous, that it wearied her.
I did not know what to do, and I thought that people were
partly in the right. When I was thus heavily afflicted, I
commended myself to God, and His Majesty began to con
sole and encourage me. He told me that I could then see
what the Saints had to go through who founded the religious
Orders : that I had much heavier persecutions to endure than
I could imagine, but I was not to mind them. He told me
also what I was to say to my friend; and what surprised me
most was, that we were consoled at once as to the past, and
resolved to withstand every body courageously. And so it
came to pass ; for among people of prayer, and indeed in the
whole neighbourhood, there was hardly one who was not
against us, and who did not think our work the greatest
folly.
18. There was so much talking and confusion in the very
monastery wherein I was, that the Provincial began to think
it hard for him to set himself against every body ; so he
changed his mind, and would not acknowledge the new house.
He said that the revenue was not certain, and too little, while
the opposition was great. On the whole, it seemed that he
was right; he gave it up at last, and would have nothing to
do with it. It was a very great pain to us, — for we seemed
now to have received the first blow, and in particular to me,
to find the Provincial against us ; for when he approved of
the plan, I considered myself blameless before all. They
would not give absolution to my friend, if she did not abandon
the project; for they said she was bound to remove the
scandal.
19. She went to a very learned man, and a very great
servant of God, of the Order of S. Dominic,1 to whom she gave
an account of all this matter. This was even before the
Provincial had withdrawn his consent; for in this place we
had no one who would give us advice ; and so they said that
it all proceeded solely from our obstinacy. That lady gave
1 F. Pedro Ibafiez (De la Fuente).
CH. XXXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 247
an account of every thing, and told the holy man how much
she received from the property of her husband. Having a
great desire that he would help us, — for he was the most
learned man here, and there are few in his Order more learned
than he, — I told him myself all we intended to do, and some
of my motives. I never said a word of any revelation what
ever, speaking only of the natural reasons which influenced
me ; for I would not have him give an opinion otherwise than
on those grounds. He asked us to give him eight days before
he answered, and also if we had made up our minds to abide by
what he might say. I said we had ; but though I said so, and
though I thought so, I never lost a certain confidence that the
monastery would be founded. My friend had more faith than
I ; nothing they could say could make her give it up. As for
myself, though, as I said, it seemed to me impossible that the
work should be finally abandoned, yet my belief in the truth of
the revelation went no further than in so far as it was not
against what is contained in the sacred writings, nor against
the laws of the Church, which we are bound to keep. Though
the revelation seemed to me to have come really from God, yet,
if that learned man had told me that we could not go on
without offending God and going against our conscience, I
believe I should have given it up, and looked out for some
other way ; but our Lord showed me no other way than this.
20. The servant of God told me afterwards that he had
made up his mind to insist on the abandonment of our pro
ject, for he had already heard the popular cry: moreover,
he, as every body did, thought it folly ; and a certain noble-
rnan also, as soon as he knew that we had gone to him, had
sent him word to consider well what he wras doing, and to
g've us no help; that when he began to consider the answer
he should make us, and to ponder on the matter, the object
we had in view, our manner of life, and the Order, he became
convinced that it was greatly for the service of God, and
that we must not give it up. Accordingly, his answer was
that we should make haste to settle the matter. He told us
how and in what way it was to be done ; and if our means
were scanty, we must trust somewhat in God. If any one
made any objections, they were to go to him — he would answer
them ; and in this way he always helped us, as I shall show
by and by.1
1 Ch. xxxiii. § 8.
248 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIII.
21. This answer was a great comfort to us; so also was
the conduct of certain holy persons who were usually against
us; they were now pacified, and some of them even helped
us. One of them was the saintly nobleman1 of whom I spoke
before ;2 he looked on it — so, indeed, it was — as a means of
great perfection, because the whole foundation was laid in
prayer. He saw also very many difficulties before us, and
no way out of them, — yet he gave up his own opinion, and
admitted that the work might be of God. Our Lord Himself
must have touched his heart, as He also did that of the doctor,
the priest and servant of God, to whom, as I said before,3 I first
spoke, who is an example to the whole city, — being one whom
God maintains there for the relief and progress of many souls :
he, too, came now to give us his assistance.
22. When matters had come to this state, and always
with the help of many prayers, we purchased a house, in a
convenient spot; and though it was small, I cared not at all
for that, for our Lord had told me to go into it as well as I
could, — that I should see afterwards what He would do; and
how well I have seen it! I saw, too, how scanty were our
means ; and yet I believed our Lord would order these things
by other ways, and be gracious unto us.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE MONASTERY HINDERED OUR LORD
CONSOLES THE SAINT.
1. WHEN the matter was in this state — so near its con
clusion, that on the very next day the papers were to be
signed — then it was that the Father-Provincial changed his
mind. I believe that the change was divinely ordered — so
it appeared afterwards ; for while so many prayers were .made,
our Lord was perfecting His work and arranging its execu
tion in another way. When the Provincial refused us, my
confessor bade me forthwith to think no more of it, notwith
standing the great trouble and distress which our Lord knows
1 Francisco de Salcedo. 2 Ch. xxiii. § 6.
3 Caspar Daza. See ch. xxiii. § 6.
SEVENTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
-V jy>vr^- — ~_~ -^r^Tvcg-c — _i
Hye Hoys del.
1. Portrait of Kuy (.oinez de Silva, prince of Eboli and Duke of Pastrami.
2. Portrait of Anna de llleiuloza y la < erda, his wife. 3. City of Pastrami, taken
from the valley to the southward. Above, the colleg-e; to the rig-ht, the ducal
palace; below, to the left, the former monastery of the Discalcecl Carmelites, setn
from the back. Threshing, according to the Moorish fashion, still in use in Spain.
4. Palace of the Duke* of Pastrana. 5. Main entrance to the palace, surmounted
by the divided arms of Mendoza de la Vega and de la Cerda. 6. Church and
monastery of the Conceptlonlattt, since 1576, formerly belonging- to the Carmelites.
7. Crucifix of Caterina of Cardona, at whose command she' retired to the desert.
8. Travelling stalls carried by St. Teresa at Avila, at Alcala de Henares and
OUR LADY OP THE CONCEPTION AT PASTRANA.
XIII.
Bruges, P Raoux So.
Pastrana. !t. Hell hun^ by St. Teresa in the monastery of St. Joseph at Avila.
Transported later to the monastery of Discalced Carmelites at Pastrana, it was
used to convoke the general chapters of the Order. Wicket in the door of the
Discaleed monastery at Pastrana. 10. Tomb of Fr. liossi or Rubeo, General of the
Order at the time of the Reform, in the crypt of St. Martin's of the Mount in Rome,
belonging: to the Carmelite Friars. 11. Tomb of Nicholas Dor^a, first General of the
Reformed Order, in the Chapel of St. Teresa, in the church formerly of the Discalced
Nuns at Pastrana. 12. Arms of the family of de Silva. 13. Arms of the family
°- V.eildoza de la Ve»a >' '« Cerrta. 14. Seal of the t onceptioiiists of Pastrana.
15. Modern escutcheon of the city of Pastrana. (See Appendix, note 13 )
CH. XXXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 249
it cost me to bring it to this state. When the work was given
up and abandoned, people were the more convinced that it was
altogether the foolishness of women; and the complaints
against me were multiplied, although I had until then this com
mandment of my Provincial to justify me.
2. I was now very much disliked throughout the whole
monastery, because I wished to found another with stricter
enclosure. It was said I insulted my sisters; that I could
serve God among them as well as elsewhere, for there were
many among them much better than I ; that I did not love
the house, and that it would have been better if I had pro
cured greater resources for it than for another. Some said
I ought to be put in prison ; others — but they were not many
— defended me in some degree. I saw well enough that they
were for the most part right, and now and then I made
excuses for myself, though, as I could not tell them the chief
reason, which was the commandment of our Lord, I knew
not what to do, and so was silent.
3. In other respects God was most merciful unto me, for
all this caused me no uneasiness ; and I gave up our design
with much readiness and joy, as if it cost me nothing. No
one could believe it, not even those men of prayer with whom
I conversed ; for they thought I was exceedingly pained and
sorry : even my confessor himself could hardly believe it. I
had done, as it seemed to me, all that was in my power. I
thought myself obliged to do no more than I had done to
fulfil our Lord's commandment, and so I remained in the
house where I was, exceedingly happy and joyful; though, at
the same time, I was never able to give up my conviction
that the work would be done. I had now no means of doing
it, nor did I know how or when it would be done ; but I
firmly believed in its accomplishment.
4. I was much distressed at one time by a letter which
my confessor wrote to me, as if I had done any thing in the
matter contrary to his will. Our Lord also must have meant
that suffering should not fail me there where I should feel it
most; and so, amid the multitude of my persecutions, when,
as it seemed to me, consolations should have come from my
confessor, he told me that I ought to recognise in the result
that all was a dream ; that I ought to lead a new life by ceasing
to have any thing to do for the future with it, or even to
speak of it any more, seeing the scandal it had occasioned.
250 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIII.
He made some further remarks, all of them very painful. This
was a greater affliction to me than all the others together. I
considered whether I had done any thing myself, and whether
I was to blame for any thing that was an offence unto God ;
whether all my visions were illusions, all my prayers a de
lusion, and I, therefore, deeply deluded and lost. This pressed
so heavily upon me, that I was altogether disturbed and
most grievously distressed. But our Lord, who never failed
me in all the trials I speak of, so frequently consoled and
strengthened me, that I need not speak of it here. He told me
then not to distress myself ; that I had pleased God greatly,
and had not sinned against Him throughout the whole affair;
that I was to do what my confessors required of me, and be
silent on the subject till the time came to resume it. I was
so comforted and so happy, that the persecution which had
befallen me seemed to be as nothing at all.
5. Our Lord now showed me what an exceedingly great
blessing it is to be tried and persecuted for His sake ; for the
growth of the love of God in my soul, which I now discerned,
as well as of many other virtues, was such as to fill me with
wonder. It made me unable to abstain from desiring trials, and
yet those about me thought 1 was exceedingly disheartened ;
and I must have been so, if our Lord in that extremity had
not succoured me with His great compassion. Now was the
beginning of those more violent impetuosities of the love of
God of which I have spoken before,1 as well as of those pro-
founder trances. I kept silence, however, and never spoke
of those graces to any one. The saintly Dominican2 was as
confident as I was that the work would be done ; and as I
would not speak of it, in order that nothing might take place
contrary to the obedience I owed my confessor, he commun
icated with my companion, and they wrote letters to Rome
and made their preparations.
6. Satan also contrived now that persons should hear
one from another that I had had a revelation in the matter ;
and people came to me in great terror, saying that the times
were dangerous, that something might be laid to my charge,
and that I might be taken before the Inquisitors. I heard
this with pleasure, and it made me laugh, because I never
was afraid of them ; for I knew well enough that in matters
1 Ch. xxi. § 8, ch. xxix. §§ 8, 9.
2 Pedro Ibanez. See ch. xxxviii. § 15.
CH. XXXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 251
of faith I would not break the least ceremony of the Church,
that I would expose myself to die a thousand times rather
than that any one should see me go against it or against any
truth of Holy Writ. So I told them I was not afraid of that,
for my soul must be in a very bad state if there was any thing
the matter with it of such a nature as to make me fear the
Inquisition ; I would go myself and give myself up, if I thought
there was any thing amiss ; and if I should be denounced,
our Lord would deliver me, and I should gain much.
7. I had recourse to my Dominican father ; for I could
rely upon him, because he was a learned man. I told him all
about my visions, my way of prayer, the great graces our
Lord had given me, as clearly as I could, and I begged him
to consider the matter well, and tell me if there was any
thing therein at variance with the Holy Writings, and give
me his opinion on the whole matter. He reassured me much,
and, I think, profited himself; for though he was exceedingly
good, yet, from this time forth, he gave himself more and more
to prayer, and retired to a monastery of his Order which was
very lonely, that he might apply himself more effectually to
prayer, where he remained more than two years. He was
dragged out of his solitude by obedience, to his great sorrow :
his superiors required his services ; for he was a man of great
abilities. I, too, on my part, felt his retirement very much,
because it was a great loss to me, though I did not disturb
him. But I knew it was a gain to him ; for when I was so
much distressed at his departure, our Lord bade me be com
forted, not to take it to heart, for he was gone under good
guidance.
8. So, when he came back, his soul had made such great
progress, and he was so advanced in the ways of the spirit, that
he told me on his return he would not have missed that journey
for any thing in the world. And I, too, could say the same
thing; for where he reassured and consoled me formerly by
his mere learning, he did so now through that spiritual ex
perience he had gained of supernatural things. And God,
too, brought him here in time ; for He saw that his help would
be required in the foundation of the monastery which His
Majesty wrilled should be laid.
9. I remained quiet after this for five or six months,
neither thinking nor speaking of the matter; nor did our
Lord once speak to me about it. I know not why, but I
252 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIII.
could never rid myself of the thought that the monastery
would be founded. At the end of that time, the then Rector1
of the Society of Jesus having gone away, His Majesty
brought into his place another,2 of great spirituality, high
courage, strong understanding, and profound learning, at the
very time when I was in great straits. As he who then heard
my confession had a superior over him — the fathers of the
Society are extremely strict about the virtue of obedience, and
never stir but in conformity with the will of their superiors —
so he would not dare, though he perfectly understood my
spirit, and desired the accomplishment of my purpose, to
come to any resolution; and he had many reasons to justify
his conduct. I was at the same time subject to such great
impetuosities of spirit, that I felt my chains extremely heavy ;
nevertheless, I never swerved from the commandment he gave
me.
10. One day, when in great distress, because I thought
my confessor did not trust me, our Lord said to me, Be not
troubled ; this suffering will soon be over. I was very much
delighted, thinking I should die shortly ; and I was very
happy whenever I recalled those words to remembrance.
Afterwards I saw clearly that they referred to the coming
of the rector of whom I am speaking, for never again had I
any reason to be distressed. The rector that came never
interfered with the father-minister who was my confessor.
On the contrary, he told him to console me, — that there
was nothing to be afraid of, — and not to direct me along a road
so narrow, but to leave the operations of the Spirit of God
alone; for now and then it seemed as if these great impetu
osities of the spirit took away the very breath of the soul.
11. The rector came to see me, and my confessor bade
me speak to him in all freedom and openness. I used to feel
the very greatest repugnance to speak of this matter; but
so it was, when I went into the confessional, I felt in my
soul something, I know not what. I do not remember to
have felt so either before or after towards any one. I cannot
1 Dionisio Vasquez. Of him the Bollandists say that he was very
austere and harsh to his subjects, notwithstanding his great learning:
"homini egregie docto ac rebus gestis claro, sed in subditos, ut ex
historia Societatis Jesu liquet, valde immiti" (§ 309).
Caspar de Salazar was made rector of the house in Avila in 1561,
therein succeeding Vasquez (Bollandists, ibid}.
CH. XXXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 253
tell what it was, nor do I know of any thing with which I
could compare it. It was a spiritual joy, and a conviction
in my soul that his soul must understand mine, that it was in
unison with it, and yet, as I have said, I knew not how. If I
had ever spoken to him, or had heard great things of him,
it would have been nothing out of the way that I should
tejoice in the conviction that he would understand me; but
he had never spoken to me before, nor I to him, and, indeed,
he was a person of whom I had no previous knowledge what
ever.
12. Afterwards, I saw clearly that my spirit was not
deceived; for my relations with him were in every way of the
utmost service to me and my soul, because his method of
direction is proper for those persons whom our Lord seems
to have led far on the way, seeing that He makes them
run, and not to crawl step by step. His plan is to render them
thoroughly detached and mortified, and our Lord has endowed
him with the highest gifts herein as well as in many other
things beside. As soon as I began to have to do with him,
I knew his method at once, and saw that he had a pure and
holy soul, with a special grace of our Lord for the discern
ment of spirits. He gave me great consolation. Shortly
after I had begun to speak to him, our Lord began to con
strain me to return to the affair of the monastery, and to lay
before my confessor and the father-rector many reasons and
considerations why they should not stand in my way. Some
of these reasons made them afraid, for the father-rector never
had a doubt of its being the work of the Spirit of God, because
he regarded the fruits of it with great care and attention. At
last, after much consideration, they did not dare to hinder me.1
13. My confessor gave me leave to prosecute the work
with all my might. I saw well enough the trouble I exposed
myself to, for I was utterly alone, and able to do so very
little. We agreed that it should be carried on with the utmost
secrecy; and so I contrived that one of my sisters,2 who
1 S. Teresa was commanded by our Lord to ask F. Baltasar Al
varez to make a meditation on Ps. xci. 6: "Quam magnificata sunt
opera Tua." The Saint obeyed, and the meditation was made
From that moment, as F. Alvarez afterwards told Father de Ribera
(Life of S. Teresa, i. ch. xiv.), there was no further hesitation on the
part of the Saint's confessor.
2 Juana de Ahumada, wife of Juan de Ovalle.
254 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA, [CH. XXXIII.
lived out of the town, should buy a house, and prepare it as
if for herself, with money which our Lord gave us in a
strange way for the purchase. It would take too much time
to say how our Lord provided for us.1 I made it a great
point to do nothing against obedience ; but I knew that if I
spoke of it to my superiors all was lost, as on the former
occasion, and worse even might happen. In holding the
money, in finding the house, in treating for it, in putting it
in order, I had so much to suffer; and, for the most part, I
had to suffer alone, though my friend did what she could : she
could do but little, and that was almost nothing. Beyond giv
ing her name and her countenance, the whole of the trouble
was mine ; and that fell upon me in so many ways, that I am
astonished now how I could have borne it.2 Sometimes, in my
afHiction, I used to say : O my Lord, how is it that Thou com-
mandest me to do that which seems impossible? — for, though
I am a woman, yet, if I were free, it might be done ; but when
I am tied up in so many ways, without money, or the means of
procuring it, either for the purpose of the Brief or for any
other, — what, O Lord, can I do?
14. Once, when I was in one of my difficulties, not know
ing what to do, unable to pay the workmen, S. Joseph, my
true father and lord, appeared to me, and gave me to under
stand that money would not be wanting, and I must hire the
workmen. So I did, though I was penniless ; and our Lord, in
a way that filled those who heard of it with wonder, provided
for me. The house offered me was too small, — so much so,
that it seemed as if it could never be made into a monastery, —
and I wished to buy another, but had not the means, and there
was neither way nor means to do so. I knew not what to do.
There was another little house close to the one we had, which
might have formed a small church. One day, after Com-
1 The money was a present from her brother, Don Lorenzo de
Cepeda; and the Saint acknowledges the receipt of it, and confesses
the use made of it, in a letter to her brother, written in Avila, Dec.
31, 1561 (De la Fuente).
2 One day, she went with her sister — she was staying in her house
— to hear a sermon in the church of St. Thomas. The zealous
preacher denounced visions and revelations; and his observations
were so much to the point, that there was no need of his saying that
they were directed against S. Teresa, who was present. Her sister
was greatly hurt, and persuaded the Saint to return to the monastery
at once (Reforma, i. ch. xl. § 1).
CH. XXXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 255
munion, our Lord said to me, I have already bidden thee to go
in anyhow. And then, as if exclaiming, said : Oh, covetousness
of the human race, thinking that even the whole earth is too
little for it! how often have I slept in the open air, because
I had no place to shelter Me I1 I was alarmed, and saw that
He had good reasons to complain. I went to the little house,
arranged the divisions of it, and found that it would make a
sufficient, though small, monastery. I did not care now to add
to the site by purchase, and so I did nothing but contrive to
have it prepared in such a way that it could be lived in.
Every thing was coarse, and nothing more was done to it
than to render it not hurtful to health — and that must be done
every where.
15. As I was going to Communion on her feast, S. Clare
appeared to me in great beauty, and bade me take courage,
and go on with what I had begun ; she would help me. I
began to have a great devotion to S. Clare; and she has so
truly kept her word, that a monastery of nuns of her Order
in our neighbourhood helped us to live ; and, what is of more
importance, by little and little she so perfectly fulfilled my
desire, that the poverty which the blessed Saint observes in
her own house is observed in this, and wre are living on alms.
It cost me no small labour to have this matter settled by the
plenary sanction and authority of the Holy Father,2 so that
it shall never be otherwise, and we possess no revenues. Our
Lord is doing more for us — perhaps we owe it to the prayers
of this blessed Saint; for, without our asking any body, His
Majesty supplies most abundantly all our wants. May He be
blessed for ever! Amen.
16. On one of these days — it was the Feast of the As
sumption of our Lady — I was in the church of the monastery
of the Order of the glorious S. Dominic, thinking of the
events of my wretched life, and of the many sins which in
times past I had confessed in that house. I fell into so pro
found a trance, that I was as it were beside myself. I sat
down, and it seemed as if I could neither see the Elevation
nor hear Mass. This afterwards became a scruple to me. I
thought then, when I was in that state, that I saw myself
clothed with a garment of excessive whiteness and splendour.
1 S. Luke ix. 58.
2 Pius IV., on Dec. 5, 1562 (Bouix). See ch. xxxix. § 19.
256 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIII.
At first I did not see who was putting it on me. Afterwards I
saw our Lady on my right hand, and my father S. Joseph, on
my left, clothing me with that garment. I was given to under
stand that I was then cleansed from my sins. When I had been
thus clad — I was filled with the utmost delight and joy — our
Lady seemed at once to take me by both hands. She said that
I pleased her very much by being devout to the glorious S.
Joseph ; that I might rely on it my desires about the monastery
were accomplished, and that our Lord and they too would be
greatly honoured in it; that I was to be afraid of no failure
whatever, though the obedience under which it would be
placed might not be according to my mind, because they would
watch over us, and because her Son had promised to be with
us1 — and, as a proof of this, she would give me that jewel.
She then seemed to throw around my neck a most splendid
necklace of gold, from which hung a cross of great value.
The stones and gold were so different from any in this world,
that there is nothing wherewith to compare them. The beauty
of them is such as can be conceived by no imagination, — and
no understanding can find out the materials of the robe, nor
picture to itself the splendours which our Lord revealed, in
comparison with which all the splendours of earth, so to say,
are a daubing of soot. This beauty, which I saw in our Lady,
was exceedingly grand, though I did not trace it in any
particular feature, but rather in the whole form of her face.
She was clothed in white, and her garments shone with ex
cessive lustre, which was not dazzling, but soft. I did not
see S. Joseph so distinctly, though I saw clearly that he was
there, as in the visions of which I spoke before,2 in which
nothing is seen. Our Lady seemed to be very young.
17. When they had been with me for a while, — I, too,
in the greatest delight and joy, greater than I had ever had
before, as I think, and with which I wished never to part, —
I saw them, so it seemed, ascend up to heaven, attended by
a great multitude of angels. I was left in great loneliness,
though so comforted and raised up, so recollected in prayer
and softened, that I was for some time unable to move or
speak — being, as it were, beside myself. I was now possessed
by a strong desire to be consumed for the love of God, and
by other affections of the same kind. Every thing took place
in such a way that I could never have a doubt — though I
1 Ch. xxxii. § 14. 2 See ch. xxvii.
CH. XXXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 257
often tried — that the vision came from God.1 It left me in
the greatest consolation and peace.
18. As to that which the Queen of the Angels spoke about
obedience, it is this: it was painful to me not to subject the
monastery to the Order, and our Lord had told me that it was
inexpedient to do so. He told me the reasons why it was in
no wise convenient that I should do it, but I must send to
Rome in a certain way, which He also explained ; He would
take care that I found help there : and so I did. I sent to
Rome, as our Lord directed me, — for we should never have
succeeded otherwise, — and most favourable was the result.
19. And as to subsequent events, it was very convenient
to be under the Bishop,2 but at that time I did not know him,
nor did I know what kind of a superior he might be. It
pleased our Lord that he should be as good and favourable
to this house as it was necessary he should be on account
of the great opposition it met wiLh at the beginning, as I shall
show hereafter,3 and also for the sake of bringing it to the
condition it is now in. Blessed be He who has done it all !
Amen.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE SAINT LEAVES HER MONASTERY OF THE INCARNATION FOR
A TIME, AT THE COMMAND OF HER SUPERIOR CONSOLES
AN AFFLICTED WIDOW.
1. Now, though I was very careful that no one should
know what we were doing, all this work could not be carried
on so secretly as not to come to the knowledge of divers
persons; some believed in it, others did not. I was in r^rent
fear lest the Provincial should be spoken to about it when he
came, and find himself compelled to order me to give it up ;
"Nuestro Sefior," "our Lord," though inserted in the printed
editions after the word "God," is not in the MS., according to Don V.
de la Fuente.
* Don Alvaro de Mendoza, Bishop of Avila, afterwards of Palen-
cia.
* See ch. xxxvi. § 19; Way of Perfection, ch. v. § 10; Foundations,
ch. xxxi. S 1.
258 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXI^.
and if he did so, it would have been abandoned at once. Our
Lord provided against it in this way. In a large city, more
than twenty leagues distant, was a lady in great distress on
account of her husband's death.1 She was in such extreme
affliction, that fears were entertained about her life. She had
heard of me, a poor sinner, — for our Lord had provided that, —
and men spoke well to her of me, for the sake of other good
works which resulted from it. This lady knew the Provincial
well ; and as she was a person of some consideration, and
knew that I lived in a monastery the nuns of which were
permitted to go out, our Lord made her desire much to see me.
She thought that my presence would be a consolation to her,
and that she could not be comforted otherwise. She therefore
strove by all the means in her power to get me into her
house, sending messages to the Provincial, who was at a
distance far away.
2. The Provincial sent me an order, charging me in virtue
of my obedience to go immediately, with one companion.
I knew of it on Christmas night. It caused me some trouble
and much suffering to see that they sent for me because they
thought there was some good in me; I, knowing myself to
be so wicked, could not bear it. I commended myself earn
estly to God, and during Matins, or the greater part of them,
was lost in a profound trance. Our Lord told me I must go
without fail, and give no heed to the opinions of people, for
they were few who would not be rash in their counsel; and
though I should have troubles, yet God would be served
greatly: as to the monastery, it was expedient I should be
absent till the Brief came, because Satan had contrived a
great plot against the coming of the Provincial ; that I was to
have no fear, — He would help me. I repeated this to the
rector, and he told me that I must go by all means, though
others were saying I ought not to go, that it was a trick of
Satan to bring some evil upon me there, and that I ought to
send word to the Provincial.
3. I obeyed the rector, and went without fear, because of
what I had understood in prayer, though in the greatest con
fusion when I thought of the reasons why they sent for me,
1 Dona Luisa de la Cerda, sister of the Duke of Medina-Cceli, was
now the widow of Arias Pardo, Marshal of Castille, Lord of Malagon
and Paracuellos. Don Arias was nephew of Cardinal Tabera, Arch
bishop of Toledo (De la Fuente).
CH. XXXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 259
and how very much they were deceived. It made me more
and more importunate with our Lord that He would not
abandon me. It was a great comfort that there was a house
of the Society of Jesus there whither I was going, and so I
thought I should be in some degree safe under the direction
of those fathers, as I had been here.
4. It was the good pleasure of our Lord that the lady
who sent for me should be so much consoled, that a visible
improvement was the immediate result: she was comforted
every day more and more. This was very remarkable, be
cause, as I said before, her suffering had reduced her to great
straits. Our Lord must have done this in answer to the many
prayers which the good people of my acquaintance made for
me, that I might prosper in my work. She had a profound fear
of God, and was so good, that her great devotion supplied my
deficiencies. She conceived a great affection for me — I, too,
for her, because of her goodness ; but all was as it were a
cross for me ; for the comforts of her house were a great
torment, and her making so much of me made me afraid. I
kept my soul continually recollected — I did not dare to be care
less : nor was our Lord careless of me ; for while I was there,
He bestowed the greatest graces upon me, and those graces
made me so free, and filled me with such contempt for all I
saw, — and the more I saw, the greater my contempt, — that I
never failed to treat those ladies, whom to serve would have
been a great honour for me, with as much freedom as if I
had been their equal.
5. I derived very great advantages from this, and I said
so. I saw that she was a woman, and as much liable to
passion and weakness as I was ; that rank is of little worth,
and the higher it is, the greater the anxiety and trouble it
brings. People must be careful of the dignity of their state,
which will not suffer them to live at ease ; they must eat at
fixed hours and by rule, for every thing must be according to
their state, and not according to their constitutions, and they
have frequently to take food fitted more for their state than for
their liking.
6. So it was that I came to hate the very wish to be a
great lady. God deliver me from this wicked, artificial life ! —
though I believe that this lady, notwithstanding that she was
one of the chief personages of the realm, was a woman of
great simplicity, and that few were more humble than she
260 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIV.
was. I was very sorry for her, for I saw how often she had
to submit to much that was disagreeable to her, because of
the requirements of her rank. Then, as to servants, though
this lady had very good servants, how slight is that little
trust that may be put in them ! One must not be conversed
with more than another; otherwise, he who is so favoured is
envied by the rest. This of itself is a slavery, and one of the
lies of the world is that it calls such persons masters, who, in
my eyes, are nothing else but slaves in a thousand ways.
7. It was our Lord's pleasure that the household of that
lady improved in the service of His Majesty during my stay
there, though I was not exempted from some trials and some
jealousies on the part of some of its members, because of the
great affection their mistress had for me. They perhaps
must have thought I had some personal interest to serve.
Our Lord must have permitted such matters, and others of the
same kind, to give me trouble, in order that I might not be
absorbed in the comforts which otherwise I had there ; and He
was pleased to deliver me out of it all with great profit to
my soul.
8. When I was there, a religious person of great con
sideration, and with whom I had conversed occasionally some
years ago,1 happened to arrive. When I was at Mass, in a
monastery of this Order, near the house in which I was
staying, I felt a longing to know the state of his soul, — for I
wished him to be a great servant of God, — and I rose up in
order to go and speak to him. But as I was then recollected
in prayer, it seemed to me a waste of time — for what had I
to do in that matter? — and so I returned to my place. Three
times, I think, I did this, and at last my good angel prevailed
over the evil one, and I went and asked for him ; and he came
to speak to me in one of the confessionals. We began by
asking one another of our past lives, for we had not seen one
another for many years. I told him that my life had been one
in which my soul had had many trials. He insisted much on
my telling* him what those trials were. I said that they were
1 F. Vicente Barren, Dominican (see ch. v. § 8), according to F.
Bouix, on the authority of Ribera and Yepez; but the Carmelite
Father, Fr. Antonio of S. Joseph, in his note on the first Fragment
(Letters, vol. iv. p. 408), says that it was Fr. Garcia of Toledo, brother
of Don Fernando, Duke of Alva; and Don Vicente de la Fuente thinks
the opinion of Fr. Antonio the more probable.
CII. XXXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 261
not to be told, and that I was not to tell them. He replied
that the Dominican father,1 of whom I have spoken, knew
them, and that, as they were great friends, he could learn
them from him, and so I had better tell them without hesita
tion.
9. The fact is, that it was not in his power not to insist
nor in mine, I believe, to refuse to speak; for notwithstanding
all the trouble and shame I used to feel formerly, I spoke of my
state to him, and to the rector whom I have referred to before,2
without any difficulty whatever; on the contrary, it was a
great consolation to me; and so I told him all in confession.
He seemed to me then more prudent than ever, though I had
always looked upon him as a man of great understanding.
I considered what high gifts and endowments for great serv
ices he had, if he gave himself wholly unto God. I had this
feeling now for many years, so that I never saw^ any one
who pleased me much without wishing at once he were given
wholly unto God; and sometimes I feel this so keenly, that
I can hardly contain myself. Though I long to see every
body serve God, yet my desire about those who please me
is very vehement, and so I importune our Lord on their
behalf.
10. So it happened with respect to this religious. He
asked me to pray much for him to God. There was no neces
sity for his doing so, because I could not do any thing else, and
so I went back to my place where I was in the habit of praying
alone, and began to pray to our Lord, being extremely recol
lected, in that my simple, silly way, when I speak without
knowing very often what I am saying. It is love that speaks,
and my soul is so beside itself, that I do not regard the dis
tance between it and God. That love which I know His
Majesty has for it makes it forget itself, and think itself to be
one with Him; and so, as being one with Him, and not divided
from Him, the soul speaks foolishly. When I had prayed
with many tears that the soul of this religious might serve Him
truly, — for, though I considered it good, it was not enough for
me ; I would have it much better, — I remember I said, "O
Lord, Thou must not refuse me this grace ; behold him, — he is
a fit person to be our friend."
11. Oh, the great goodness and compassion of God!
How He regards not the words, but the desire and the will
1 Pedro Ibanez (Bouix}. 2 Ch. xxxiii. § 11.
262 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIV.
with which they are spoken ! How He suffered such a one
as I am to speak so boldly before His Majesty! May He be
blessed for evermore !
12. I remember that during those hours of prayer on that
very night I was extremely distressed by the thought whether
I was in the grace of God, and that I could never know
whether I was so or not, — not that I wished to know it; I
wished, however, to die, in order that I might not live a life
in which I was not sure that I was not dead in sin, for there
could be no death more dreadful for me than to think that
I had sinned against God. I was in great straits at this
thought. I implored Him not to suffer me to fall into sin,
with great sweetness, dissolved in tears. Then I heard that
I might console myself, and trust1 that I was in a state of
grace, because a love of God like mine, together with the
graces and feelings with which His Majesty filled my soul,
was of such a nature as to be inconsistent with a state of
mortal sin.
13. I was now confident that our Lord would grant my
prayer as to that religious. He bade me repeat certain
words to him. This I felt much, because I knew not how to
speak to him ; for this carrying messages to a third person,
as I have said,2 is what I have always felt the most, especially
when I did not know how that person would take them, nor
whether he would not laugh at me. This placed me in great
difficulties, but at last I was so convinced I ought to do it,
that I believe I made a promise to God I would not neglect
that message ; and because of the great shame I felt, I wrote
it out, and gave it in that way. The result showed clearly
enough that it was a message from God, for that religious
resolved with great earnestness to give himself to prayer,
1 Father Boiiix says that here the word "confiar," "trust," in the
printed text, has been substituted by some one for the words "estar
cierta," "be certain," which he found in the MS. But Don Vicente de
la Fuente retains the old reading "confiar," and makes no observation
on the alleged discrepancy between the MS. and the printed text.
The observation of F. Bouix, however, is more important, and de
serves credit, — for Don Vicente may have failed, through mere inad
vertence, to see what F. Bouix saw; and it is also to be remembered
that Don Vicente does not say that the MS. on this point has been so
closely inspected as to throw any doubt on the positive testimony of
F. Bouix.
2 Ch. xxxiii. § 12.
CH. XXXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 263
though he did not do so at once. Our Lord would have him
for Himself, so He sent me to tell him certain truths which,
without my understanding them, were so much to the purpose
that he was astonished. Our Lord must have prepared him
to receive them as from His Majesty; and though I am but
a miserable sinner myself, yet I made many supplications to
our Lord to convert him thoroughly, and to make him hate the
pleasures and the things of this life. And so he did — blessed
be God ! — for every time that he spoke to me I was in a
manner beside myself; and if I had not seen it, I should never
have believed that our Lord would have given him in so short
a time graces so matured, and filled him so full of God, that
he seemed to be alive to nothing on earth.
14. May His Majesty hold him in His hand ! If he will
go on — and I trust in our Lord he will do so, now that he is
so well grounded in the knowledge of himself — he will be one
of the most distinguished servants of God, to the great profit
of many souls, because he has in a short time had great
experience in spiritual things : that is a gift of God, which He
gives when He will and as He will, and it depends not on
length of time nor extent of service. I do not mean that time
and service are not great helps, but very often our Lord will
not give to -some in twenty years the grace of contemplation,
while He gives it to others in one, — His Majesty knoweth
why. We are under a delusion when we think that in the
course of years we shall come to the knowledge of that which
we can in no way attain to but by experience ; and thus many
are in error, as I have said1 when they would understand
spirituality without being spiritual themselves. I do not
mean that a man who is not spiritual, if he is learned, may not
direct one that is spiritual; but it must be understood that
in outward and inward things, in the order of nature, the
direction must be an act of reason ; and in supernatural things,
according to the teachings of the sacred writings. In other
matters, let him not distress himself, nor think that he can
understand that which he understandeth not ; neither let him
quench the Spirit;2 for now another Master, greater than he,
is directing these souls, so that they are not left without
authority over them.
15. He must not be astonished at this, nor think it im
possible : all things are possible to our Lord ;3 he must strive
1 Ch. xiv. § 10. 2 1 Thess. v. 19. 3 S. Matt. xix. 27.
264 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIV.
rather to strengthen his faith, and humble himself, because in
this matter our Lord imparts perhaps a deeper knowledge to
some old woman than to him, though he may be a very learned
man. Being thus humble, he will profit souls and himself
more than if he affected to be a contemplative without being
so; for, I repeat it, if he have no experience, if he have not a
most profound humility, whereby he may see that he does not
understand, and that the thing is not for that reason impos
sible, he will do himself but little good, and still less to his peni
tent. But if he is humble, let him have no fear that our Lord
will allow either the one or the other to fall into delusion.
16. Now as to this father I am speaking of, as our Lord
has given him light in many things, so has he laboured to find
out by study that which in this matter can be by study as
certained; for he is a very learned man, and that of which
he has no experience himself he seeks to find out from those
who have it, and our Lord helps him by increasing his faith,
and so he has greatly benefited himself and some other souls,
of whom mine is one. As our Lord knew the trials I had to
undergo His Majesty seems to have provided that, when He
took away unto Himself some of those who directed me,
others might remain, who helped me in my great afflictions,
and rendered me great services.
17. Our Lord wrought a complete change in this father,
so much so that he scarcely knew himself, so to speak. He
has given him bodily health, so that he may do penance, such
as he never had before ; for he was sickly. He has given him
courage to undertake good works, with other gifts, so that he
seems to have received a most special vocation from our Lord.
May He be blessed for ever !
18. All these blessings, I believe, came to him through
the graces our Lord bestowed upon him in prayer; for they
are real. It has been our Lord's pleasure already to try him
in certain difficulties, out of which he has come forth like one
who knows the true worth of that merit which is gained by
suffering persecutions. I trust in the munificence of our Lord
that great good will, by his means, accrue to some of his Order
and to the Order itself. This is beginning to be understood.
I have had great visions on the subject, and our Lord has told
me wonderful things of him and of the Rector of the Society
of Jesus, whom I am speaking of,1 and also of two other
1 F. Caspar de Salazar.
CH. XXXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 265
religious of the Order of S. Dominic, particularly of one who,
to his own profit, has actually learned of our Lord certain
things which I had formerly understood of him. But there
were greater things made known of him to whom I am now
referring : one of them I will now relate.
19. I was with him once in the parlour, when in my soul
and spirit I felt what great love burned within him, and
became as it were lost in ecstasy by considering the greatness
of God, who had raised that soul in so short a time to a state
so high. It made me ashamed of myself when I saw him
listen with so much humility to what I was saying about
certain matters of prayer, when I had so little myself that
I could speak on the subject to one like him. Our Lord
must have borne with me in this on account of the great
desire I had to see that religious making great progress. My
interview with him did me great good, — it seems as if it left
a new fire in my soul, burning with desire to serve our Lord
as in the beginning. O my Jesus ! what is a soul on fire with
Thy love ! How we ought to prize it, and implore our Lord
to let it live long upon earth ! He who has this love should
follow after such souls, if it be possible.
20. It is a great thing for a person ill of this disease to
find another struck down by it, — it comforts him much to see
that he is not alone ; they help one another greatly to suffer
and to merit. They are strong with a double strength who
are resolved to risk a thousand lives for God, and who long
for an opportunity of losing them. They are like soldiers
who, to acquire booty, and therewith enrich themselves, wish
for war, knowing well that they cannot become rich without
it. This is their work — to suffer. Oh, what a blessing it is
when our Lord gives light to understand how great is the
gain of suffering for Him ! This is never understood till we
have left all things ; for if any body is attached to any one
thing, that is a proof that he sets some value upon it ; and if he
sets any value upon it, it is painful to be compelled to give
it up. In that case, every thing is imperfect and lost. The
saying is to the purpose here, — he who follows what is lost,
is lost himself; and what greater loss, what greater blind
ness, what greater calamity, can there be than making much
of that which is nothing!
21. I now return to that which I had begun to speak of.
I was in the greatest joy, beholding that soul. It seemed as
266 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIV.
if our Lord would have me see clearly the treasures He had
laid up in it; and so, when I considered the favour our Lord
had shown me, in that I should be the means of so great a
good, I recognised my own unworthiness for such an end.
I thought much of the graces our Lord had given him, and
held myself as indebted for them more than if they had been
given to myself. So I gave thanks to our Lord, when I saw
that His Majesty had fulfilled my desires and heard my
petition that He would raise up persons like him. And now
my soul, no longer able to bear the joy that filled it, went
forth out of itself, losing itself that it might gain the more.
It lost sight of the reflections it was making; and the hearing
of that divine language which the Holy Ghost seemed to
speak threw me into a deep trance, which almost deprived me
of all sense, though it did not last long. I saw Christ, in
exceeding great majesty and glory, manifesting His joy at
what was then passing. He told me as much, and it was His
pleasure that I should clearly see that He was always present
at similar interviews, and how much He was pleased when
people thus found their delight in speaking of Him.
22. On another occasion, when far away from this place,
I saw him carried by angels in great glory. I understood by
that vision that his soul was making great progress : so it was ;
for an evil report was spread abroad against him by one to
whom he had rendered a great service, and whose reputation
and whose soul he had saved. He bore it with much joy.
He did also other things greatly to the honour of God, and
underwent more persecutions. I do not think it expedient
now to speak further on this point; if, however, you, my
father, who know all, should hereafter think otherwise, more
might be said to the glory of our Lord.
23. All the prophecies spoken of before,1 relating to this
house, as well as others, of which I shall speak hereafter,
relating to it and to other matters, have been accomplished.
Some of them our Lord revealed to me three years before they
became known, others earlier, and others later. But I always
made them known to my confessor, and to the widow my
friend ; for I had leave to communicate with her, as I said
before.2 She, I know, repeated them to others, and these
know that I lie not. May God never permit me in any matter
1 Ch. xxvi. § 3. 2 Ch. xxx. § 3. Dona Guiomar de Ulloa.
EIGHTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del
1. Ambrosio Mariano. 2. The Dove-cote and chapel of St Peter, original dwell
ing of the Discalced Friars, after an ancient painting. 3. Painting of Our I>ord
bound to the column, given by St. Teresa to this foundation, and inscribed "Our
holy Mother Teresa brought this picture to this monastery when she founded it."
4. Kcce Homo, an authentic fresco by Fr. Juan de la Miseria in the oratory of
St Peter, inscribed, "This picture was painted by the devout Fr. Juan de la Miseria.
Religious of this blessed house, in the first years of the Carmelite Reform, and
during the lifetime of St. Teresa of Jesus, its foundress. According to tradition
this picture sometimes spoke to her." 5. Entrance to the grotto of St. John
of the Cross at Pastrana. 6. Interior of this grotto. The Saint's bed, his seat,
his table, a niche for his crucifix, are all carved out of the rock. 7. Present
ST. PETER AT PASTRANA.
XJV.
Bruges. P Raoust So.
appearance of the grottoes which have fallen in To the left, entrance to the
cell of St. John of the Cross. 8. Ruins of the Discalced Monastery. 9. Present
aspect of the ancient dove-cote, now St. Peter's Oratory. At the 'back, ancient
doorway; on the right, a mulberry tree said to have been planted by St. Teresa.
10. Interior of St Peter's Oratory as restored by the Alcantarists. 11. General
view of the former site of the Discalced Carmelite monastery. The building on
the left is St. Pascal's College, built by the Alcantarists. 12. Coat of arms of the
military order of Alacaiitara, of which the Prince of Eboli was a chevalier.
13. Arms of the Duke of Pastrana, patron of the present church. 14. Seal of
St. Pascal's College. 15. Arms of the military order of Calatrava, to which province
Pastrana formerly belonged. (See Appendix, note 14.)
CH. XXXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 267
whatever, — much more in things of this importance, — to say
any thing but the whole truth !
24. One of my brothers-in-law1 died suddenly; and as I
was in great distress at this, because he had no opportunity
of making his confession, our Lord said to me in prayer that
my sister also was to die in the same way ; that I must go to
her, and make her prepare herself for such an end. I told
this to my confessor; but as he would not let me go, I heard
the same warning again; and now, when he saw this, he told
me I might go, and that I should lose nothing by going.
My sister was living in the country ; and as I did not tell her
why I came, I gave her what light I could in all things. I
made her go frequently to confession, and look to her soul in
every thing. She was very good, and did as I asked her.
Four or five years after she had begun this practice, and
keeping a strict watch over her conscience, she died, with
nobody near her, and without being able to go to confession.
This was a blessing to her, for it was little more than a week
since she had been to her accustomed confession. It was a
great joy to me when I heard of her death. She was but a
short time in purgatory.
25. I do not think it was quite eight days afterwards
when, after Communion, our Lord appeared to me, and was
pleased that I should see Him receive my sister into glory.
During all those years, after our Lord had spoken to me,
until her death, what I then learnt with respect to her was
never forgotten either by myself or by my friend, who, when
my sister was thus dead, came to me in great amazement
at the fulfilment of the prophecy. God be praised for ever,
who takes such care of souls that they may not be lost !
1 Don Martin de Guzman y Barrientos, husband of Maria de
Cepeda, the Saint's sister.
268 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE HOUSE OF S. JOSEPH THE OBSERV
ANCE OF HOLY POVERTY THEREIN HOW THE SAINT LEFT
TOLEDO.
1. WHEN I was staying with this lady,1 already spoken
of, in whose house I remained more than six months, our
Lord ordained that a holy woman2 of our Order should hear
of me, who was more than seventy leagues away from the
place. She happened to travel this way, and went some
leagues out of her road that she might see me. Our Lord
had moved her in the same year, and in the same month of
the year, that He had moved me, to found another monastery
of the Order; and as He had given her this desire, she sold all
she possessed, and went to Rome to obtain the necessary
faculties. She went on foot, and barefooted. She is a woman
of great penance and prayer, and one to whom our Lord gave
many graces ; and our Lady appeared to her, and commanded
her to undertake this work. Her progress in the service of
1 Dona Luisa de la Cerda.
2 Maria of Jesus was the daughter of a Reporter of Causes in the
Chancery of Granada; but his name and that of his wife are not
known. Maria married, but became a widow soon afterwards. She
then became a novice in the Carmelite monastery in Granada, and
during her noviciate had revelations, like those of S. Teresa, about
a reform of the Order. Her confessor made light of her revelations,
and she then referred them to F. Gaspar de Salazar, a confessor of S.
Teresa, who was then in Granada. He approved of them, and Maria
left the noviciate and went to Rome with two holy women of the
Order of St. Francis. The three made the journey on foot, and,
moreover, barefooted. Pope Pius IV. heard her prayer, and, looking
at her torn and bleeding feet, said to her, "Woman of strong courage,
let it be as thou wilt." She returned to Granada, but both the Car
melites and the city refused her permission to found her house there,
and some went so far as to threaten to have her publicly whipped.
Dona Leonor de Mascarenas gave her a house in Alcala de Henares,
of which she took possession Sept. 11, 1562; but the house was for
mally constituted Ju^ 23, 1563, and subjected to the Bishop ten
days after (Reforma, i. c. 56; and Don Vicente, vol. i. p. 255). The
latter says that the Chronicler is in error when he asserts that this
monastery of Maria of Jesus was endowed.
CII. XXXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 269
our Lord was so much greater than mine, that I was ashamed
to stand in her presence. She showed me Briefs she brought
from Rome, and during the fortnight she remained with me
we laid our plan for the founding of these monasteries.
2. Until I spoke to her, I never knew that our rule, before
it was mitigated, required of us that we should possess
nothing;1 nor was I going- to found a monastery without
revenue,2 for my intention was that we should be without
anxiety about all that was necessary for us, and I did not
think of the many anxieties which the possession of property
brings in its train. This holy woman, taught of our Lord,
perfectly understood — though she could not read — what I
was ignorant of, notwithstanding my having read the Con
stitutions3 so often; and when she told me of it, I thought it
right, though I feared they would never consent to this, but
would tell me I was committing follies, and that I ought not
to do any thing whereby I might bring suffering upon others.
If this concerned only myself, nothing should have kept me
back, — on the contrary, it would have been my great joy
to think that I was observing the counsels of Christ our
Lord; for His Majesty had already given me great longings
for poverty.4
3. As for myself, I never doubted that this was the
better part; for I had now for some time wished it were pos
sible in my state to go about begging, for the love of God-
to have no house of my own, nor any thing else. But I was
afraid that others — if our Lord did not give them the same
desire — might live in discontent. Moreover, I feared that
it might be the cause of some distraction; for I knew some
poor monasteries not very recollected, and I did not consider
that their not being recollected was the cause of their poverty,
and that their poverty was not the cause of their distraction :
distraction never makes people richer, and God never fails
those who serve Him. In short, I was weak in faith ; but not
so this servant of God.
1 The fourth chapter of the rule is: "Nullus fratrum dicat sibi
aliquid esse proprium, sed sint vobis omnia communia."
2 See ch. xxxii. § 16 .
8 The Constitutions which the Saint read in the monastery of the
Incarnation must have been the Constitutions grounded on the Miti
gated Rule which was sanctioned by Eugenius IV. (Romani Pnntificis,
A. p. 1432).
4 See Relation, i. § 10.
270 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXV.
4. As I took the advice of many in every thing, I found
scarcely any one of this opinion — neither my confessor, nor the
learned men to whom I spoke of it. They gave me so many
reasons the other way, that I did not know what -to do. But
when I saw what the rule required, and that poverty was the
more perfect way, I could not persuade myself to allow an
endowment. And though they did persuade me now and then
that they were right, yet, when I returned to my prayer, and
saw Christ on the cross, so poor and destitute, I could not bear
to be rich, and I implored Him with tears so to order matters
that I might be poor as He was.
5. I found that so many inconveniences resulted from
an endowment, and saw that it was the cause of so much
trouble, and even distraction, that I did nothing but dispute
with the learned. I wrote to that Dominican friar1 who was
helping us, and he sent back two sheets by way of reply, full
of objections and theology against my plan, telling me that he
had thought much on the subject. I answered that, in order
to escape from my vocation, the vow of poverty I had made,
and the perfect observance of the counsels of Christ, I did not
want any theology to help me, and in this case I should not
thank him for his learning. If I found any one who would
help me, it pleased me much. The lady in whose house I was
staying was a great help to me in this matter. Some at first
told me that they agreed with me; afterwards, when they
had considered the matter longer, they found in it so many
inconveniences, that they insisted on my giving it up. I told
them that, though they changed their opinion so quickly,
I would abide by the first.
6. At this time, because of my entreaties, — for the lady
had never seen the holy friar, Peter of Alcantara, — it pleased
our Lord to bring him to her house. As he was a great lover
of poverty, and had lived in it for so many years, he knew
well the treasures it contains, and so he was a great help to
me ; he charged me on no account whatever to give up my
purpose. Now, having this opinion and sanction, — no one
was better able to give it, because he knew what it was by
long experience, — I made up my mind to seek no further
advice.
7. One day, when I was very earnestly commending the
matter to God. our Lord told me that I must by no mer.nr,
1 F. Pedro Ibanez.
CH. XXXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 271
give up my purpose of founding the monastery in poverty;
it was His will, and the will of His Father: He would help me.
I was in a trance; and the effects were such, that I could
have no doubt it came from God. On another occasion, He
said to me that endowments bred confusion, with other things
in praise of poverty; and assured me that whosoever served
Him would never be in want of the necessary means of
living: and this want, as I have said,1 I never feared myself.
Our Lord changed the dispositions also of the licentiate, I
am speaking of the Dominican friar,2 — who, as I said, wrote
to me that I should not found the monastery without an en
dowment. Now, I was in the greatest joy at hearing this ;
and having these opinions in my favour, it seemed to me
nothing less than the possession of all the wealth of the
world, when I had resolved to live in poverty for the love
of God.
8. At this time, my Provincial withdrew the order and the
obedience, in virtue of which I was staying in that house.3
He left it to me to do as I liked: if I wished to return, I
might do so; if I wished to remain, I might also do so for
a certain time. But during that time the elections in my
monastery4 would take place, and I was told that many of
the nuns wished to lay on me the burden of superiorship.
The very thought of this alone was a great torment to me;
for, though I was resolved to undergo readily any kind of
martyrdom for God, I could not persuade myself at all to
accept this ; for, putting aside the great trouble it involved,—
because the nuns were so many, — and other reasons, such as
that I never wished for it, nor for any other office, — on the
contrary, had always refused them, — it seemed to me that
my conscience would be in great danger; and so I praised
God that I was not then in my convent. I wrote to my
friends, and asked them not to vote for me.
9. AVhen I was rejoicing that I was not in that trouble,
our Lord said to me that I was on no account to keep away;
that as I longed for a cross, there was one ready for me, and
that a heavy one: that I was not to throw it away, but go
on with resolution; He would help me, and I must go at
once. I was very much distressed, and did nothing but
1 Ch. xi. § 2. 2 F. Pedro Ibanez.
3 The house of Dona Luisa, in Toledo.
The monastery of the Incarnation, Avila.
272 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXV.
weep, because I thought that my cross was to be the office
of prioress; and, as I have just said, I could not persuade
myself that it would be at all good for my soul — nor could I
see any means by which it could be. I told my confessor of it,
and he commanded me to return at once : that to do so was
clearly the more perfect way ; and that, because the heat was
very great, — it would be enough if I arrived before the elec
tion, — I might wait a few days, in order that my journey
might do me no harm.
10. But our Lord had ordered it otherwise. I had to go
at once, because the uneasiness I felt was very great; and I
was unable to pray, and thought I was failing in obedience
to the commandments of our Lord, and that, as I was happy
and contented where I was, I would not go to meet trouble.
All my service of God there was lip-service : why did I, having
the opportunity of living in greater perfection, neglect it?
If I died on the road, let me die. Besides, my soul was in
great straits, and our Lord had taken from me all sweetness
in prayer. In short, I was in such a state of torment, that
I begged the lady to let me go ; for my confessor, when he
saw the plight I was in, had already told me to go, God
having moved him as He had moved me. The lady felt my
departure very much, and that was another pain to bear;
for it had cost her much trouble, and diverse importuni
ties of the Provincial, to have me in her house.
11. I considered it a very great thing for her to have
given her consent, when she felt it so much ; but, as she was
a person who feared God exceedingly, — and as I told her,
among many other reasons, that my going away tended
greatly to His service, and held out the hope that I might
possibly return, — she gave way, but with much sorrow. I
was now not sorry myself at coming away, for I knew that
it was an act of greater perfection, and for the service of God.
So the pleasure I had in pleasing God took away the pain of
quitting that lady, — whom I saw suffering so keenly, — and
others to whom I owed much, particularly my confessor of the
Society of Jesus, in whom I found all I needed. But the
greater the consolations I lost for our Lord's sake, the greater
was my joy in losing them. I could not understand it, for I
had a clear consciousness of these two contrary feelings —
pleasure, consolation, and joy in that which weighed down my
soul with sadness. I was joyful and tranquil, and had op-
CH. XXXV. ] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 273
portunities of spending many hours in prayer; and I saw that
I was going to throw myself into a fire ; for our Lord had al
ready told me that I was going to carry a heavy cross, —
though I never thought it would be so heavy as I afterwards
found it to be, — and yet I went forth rejoicing. I was dis
tressed because I had not already begun the fight, since it
was our Lord's will that I should be in it. Thus His Majesty
gave me strength, and established it in my weakness.1
12. As I have just said, I could not understand how this
could be. I thought of this illustration : if I were possessed
of a jewel, or any other thing which gave me great pleasure,
and it came to my knowledge that a person whom I loved
more than myself, and whose satisfaction I preferred to my
own, wished to have it, it would give me great pleasure to
deprive myself of it, because I would give all I possessed
to please that person. Now, as the pleasure of giving pleas
ure to that person surpasses any pleasure I have in that
jewel myself, I should not be distressed in giving away that
or any thing else I loved, nor at the loss of that pleasure
which the possession of it gave me. So now, though I wished
to feel some distress when I saw that those whom I was
leaving felt my going so much, yet, notwithstanding my
naturally grateful disposition, — which, under other circum
stances, would have been enough to cause me great pain, — at
this time, though I wished to feel it, I could feel none.
13. The delay of ano.ther day was so serious a matter in
the affairs of this holy house, that I know not how they could
have been settled if I had waited. Oh, God is great ! I am
often lost in wonder when I consider and see the special help
which His Majesty gave me towards the establishment of
this little cell of God, — for such I believe it to be, — the lodging
wherein His Majesty delights; for once, when I was in prayer,
He told me that this house was the paradise of His delight.2
It seems, then, that His Majesty has chosen these whom he
has drawn hither, among whom I am living very much
ashamed of myself.3 I could not have even wished for souls
such as they are for the purpose of this house, where enclosure,
poverty, and prayer are so strictly observed ; they submit with
so much joy and contentment, that every one of them thinks
1 2 Cor. xii. 9.
2 See Way of Perfection, ch. xxii. ; but ch. xiii. ed. Dohlado.
a See Foundations, ch. i. § 1.
274 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXV.
herself unworthy of the grace of being received into it, —
some of them particularly ; for our Lord has called them out
of the vanity and dissipation of the world, in which, accord
ing to its laws, they might have lived contented. Our Lord
has multiplied their joy, so that they see clearly how He has
given them a hundredfold for the one thing they have left1
and for which they cannot thank His Majesty enough. Others
He has advanced from well to better. To the young He gives
courage and knowledge, so that they may desire nothing else,
and also to understand that to live away from all things of
this life is to live in greater peace even here below. To
those who are no longer young, and whose health is weak, He
gives — and has given — the strength to undergo the same aus
terities and penances with all the others.
14. O my Lord ! how Thou dost show Thy power !
There is no need to seek reasons for Thy will ; for with Thee,
against all natural reason, all things are possible : so that Thou
teachest clearly there is no need of any thing but of loving
Thee2 in earnest, and really giving up every thing for Thee,
in order that Thou, O my Lord, mightest make every thing
easy. It is well said that Thou feignest to make Thy law
difficult:3 I do not see it, nor do I feel that the way that
leadeth unto Thee is narrow. I see it as a royal road, and not
a pathway ; a road upon which whosoever really enters, travels
most sincerely. No mountain passes and no cliffs are near it:
1 S. Matt. xix. 29.
2 When the workmen were busy with the building, a nephew of the
Saint, the child of her sister and Don Juan de Ovaile, was struck by
some falling stones, and killed. The workmen took the child to his
mother; and the Saint, then in the house of Dona Guiomar de Ulloa,
was sent for. Dona Guiomar took the dead boy into her arms, gave
him to the Saint, saying that it was a grievous blow to the father and
mother, and that she must obtain his life from God. The Saint took the
body, and, laying it in her lap, ordered those around her to cease their
lamentations, of whom her sister was naturally the loudest, and be
silent. Then, covering her face and her body with her veil, she
prayed to God, and God gave the child his life again. The little boy
soon after ran up to his aunt and thanked her for what she had
done. In after years the child used to say to the Saint that as she
had deprived him of the bliss of heaven by bringing him back to
life, she was bound to see that he did not suffer loss. Don Gonzalo
died three years arter S. Teresa, when he was twenty-eight years of
age (Re forma, i. c. 40, § 2).
3 Ps. xciii. 20.
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 275
these are the occasions of sin. I call that a pass, — a dan
gerous pass, — and a narrow road, which has on one side a
deep hollow, into which one stumbles, and on the other a
precipice, over which they who are careless fall, and are
dashed to pieces. He who loves Thee, O my God, travels
safely by the cpen and royal road, far away from the precipice :
he has scarcely stumbled at all, when Thou stretchest forth
Thy hand to save him. One fall — yea, many falls — if he
does but love Thee, and net the things of the world, are not
enough to make him perish ; he travels in the valley of humility.
I cannot understand what it is that makes men afraid of the
way of perfection.
15. May our Lord of His mercy make us see what a
poor security we have in the midst of dangers so manifest,
when we live like the rest of the world ; and that true se
curity consists in striving to advance in the way of God !
Let us fix our eyes upon Him, and have no fear that the Sun
of Justice will ever set, or suffer us to travel to our ruin by
night, unless we first look away from Him. People are not
afraid of living in the midst cf lions, every one of whom seems
eager to tear them : I am speaking of honours, pleasures, and
the like joys, as the world calls them: and herein the devil
seems to make us afraid of ghosts. I am astonished a thou
sand times, and ten thousand times would I relieve myself
by weeping, and proclaim aloud my own great blindness and
wickedness, if, perchance, it might help in some measure to
open their eyes. May He, who is almighty, of His goodness
open their eyes, and never suffer mine to be blind again!
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE MONASTERY OF S. JOSEPH PERSECU
TION AND TEMPTATIONS— GREAT INTERIOR TRIAL OF THE
SAINT, AND HER DELIVERANCE.
1. HAVING now left that city,1 I travelled in great joy,
resolved to suffer most willingly whatever our Lord might
be pleased to lay upon me. On the night of my arrival here,2
came also from Rome the commission and the Brief for the
1 Toledo. 2 V'ila. In the beginning of June, 1562.
276 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI.
erection of the monastery.1 I was astonished myself, and so
were those who knew how our Lord had hastened my coming,
when they saw how necessary it was, and in what a moment
our -Lord had brought me back.2 I found here the Bishop3
and the holy friar, Peter of Alcantara, and that nobleman,4
the great servant of God, in whose house the holy man was
staying; for he was a man who was in the habit of receiving
the servants of God in his house. These two prevailed on the
Bishop to accept the monastery, which was no small thing,
because it was founded in poverty; but he was so great a
lover of those whom he saw determined to serve our Lord,
that he was immediately drawn to give them His protection.
It was the approbation of the holy old man,5 and the great
trouble he took to make now this one, now that one, help
us, that did the whole work. If I had not come at the
moment, as I have just said, I do not see how it could have
been done ; for the holy man was here but a short time, — I
think not quite eight days, — during which he was also ill ; and
almost immediately afterwards our Lord took him to Himself.6
It seems as if His Majesty reserved him till this affair was
ended, because now for some time — I think for more than two
years — he had been very ill.
2. Every thing was done in the utmost secrecy; and if
it had not been so, I do not see how any thing could have
been done at all ; for the people of the city were against
us, as it appeared afterwards. Our Lord ordained that one of
my brothers-in-law7 should be ill, and his wife away, and him
self in such straits that my superiors gave me leave to remain
with him. Nothing, therefore, was found out, though some
1 See ch. xxxiv. § 2. The Brief was dated Feb. 7, 1562, the third
year of Pius IV. (De la Fuente).
* The Brief was addressed to Dona Aldonza de Guzman, and to
Dona Guiomar de Ulloa, her daughter.
3 Don Alvaro de Mendoza (De la Fuente).
4 Don Francisco de Salcedo.
5 S. Peter of Alcantara. "Truly this is the house of S. Joseph,"
were the Saint's words when he saw the rising monastery; "for I see
it is the little hospice of Bethlehem" (De la Fuente).
6 In less than three months, perhaps; for S. Peter died in the
sixty-third year of his age, Oct. 18, 1562, and in less than eight
weeks after the foundation of the monastery of S. Joseph.
7 Sefior Juan de Ovalle.
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 277
persons had their suspicions ; still, they did not believe. It
was very wonderful, for his illness lasted only no longer than
was necessary for our affair; and when it was necessary he
should recover his health, that I might be disengaged, and he
leave the house empty, our Lord restored him ; and he was
astonished at it himself.1
3. I had much trouble in persuading this person and that
to allow the foundation ; I had to nurse the sick man, and
obtain from the workmen the hasty preparation of the house,
so that it might have the form of a monastery : but much re
mained still to be done. My friend was not here,2 for we
thought it best she should be away, in order the better to hide
our purpose. I saw that every thing depended on haste, for
many reasons, one of which was that I was afraid I might be
ordered back to my monastery at any moment. I was
troubled by so many things, that I suspected my cross had
been sent me, though it seemed but a light one in comparison
with that which I understood our Lord meant me to carry.
4. When every thing was settled, our Lord was pleased
that some of us should take the habit on S. Bartholomew's
Day. The most Holy Sacrament began to dwell in the house
at the same time.3 With full sanction and authority, then,
our monastery of our most glorious father S. Joseph was
founded in the year 1562.4 I was there myself to give the
habit, with two nuns5 of the house to which we belonged,
1 When he saw that the Saint had made all her arrangements, he
knew the meaning of his illness, and said to her, "It is not necessary
I should be ill any longer" (Ribera, i. c. 17).
2 Dona Guiomar de Ulloa was now in her native place, Ciudad
Toro.
3 The Mass was said by Caspar Daza. See infra, § 18; Reforma,
I c. xliv. § 3.
* The bell which the Saint had provided for the convent weighed
less than three pounds, and remained in the monastery for a hundred
years, till it was sent, by order of the General, to the monastery of
Pastrana, where the general chapters were held. There the friars
assembled at the sound of the bell, which rang for the first Mass of
the Carmelite Reform (Reforma, i. c. xliv §1).
5 They were Dona Ines and Dona Ana de Tapia, cousins of the
Saint. There were present also Don Gonzalo de Aranda, Don Fran
cisco Salcedo, Julian of Avila, priest; Dona Juana de Ahumada, the
Saint's sister; with her husband, Juan de Ovalle. The Saint herself
retained her own habit, making no change, because she had not the
permission of her superiors (Reforma, i. c. xliv. § 3).
278 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI.
who happened then to be absent from it. As the house which
thus became a monastery was that of my brother-in-law — I
said before1 that he had bought it, for the purpose of con
cealing our plan — I was there myself with the permission of
my superiors ; and I did nothing without the advice of learned
men, in order that I might not break, in a single point, my
vow of obedience. As these persons considered what I was
doing to be most advantageous for the whole Order, on many
accounts, they told me — though I was acting secretly, and
taking care my superiors should know nothing — that I might
go on. If they had told me that there was the slightest im
perfection in the whole matter, I would have given up the
founding of a thousand monasteries, — how much more, then,
this one ! I am certain of this ; for though I longed to with
draw from every thing more and more, and to follow my rule
and vocation in the greatest perfection and seclusion, yet I
wished to do so only conditionally ; for if I should have learnt
that it would be for the greater honour of our Lord to aban
don it, I would have done so as I did before on one occasion,2
in all peace and contentment.
5. I felt as if I were in bliss, when I saw the most Holy
Sacrament reserved, with four poor orphans,3 — for they
were received without a dowry, — and great servants of God,
established in the house. It was our aim from the beginning
to receive only those who, by their example, might be the
foundation on which we could build up what we had in view —
great perfection and prayer — and effect a work which I be
lieved to be for the service of our Lord, and to the honour
of the habit of His glorious Mother. This was my anxiety.
1 Ch. xxxiii. § 14.
2 Ch. xxxiii. § 3.
3 The first of these was Antonio de Henao, a penitent of S. Peter
of Alcantara, and who wished to enter a religious house far away
from Avila, her home. S. Peter kept her for S. Teresa. She was
called from this day forth Antonia of the Holy Ghost. The second
was Maria de la Paz, brought up by Dona Guiomar de Ulloa. Her
name was Maria of the Cross. The third was Ursola de los Santos.
She retained her family name as Ursola of the Saints. It was Gaspar
Daza who brought her to the Saint. The fourth was Maria de Avila,
sister of Julian the priest, and she was called Mary of S. Joseph. It
was at this house, too, that the Saint herself exchanged her ordinary
designation of Dona Teresa de Ahumada for Teresa of Jesus (Re forma,
i. c. xliv. § 2).
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 279
It was also a great consolation to me that I had done that
which our Lord had so often commanded me to do, and that
there was one church more in this city dedicated to my
glorious father S. Joseph. Not that I thought I had done any
thing myself, for I have never thought so, and do not think
so even now ; I always looked upon it as the work of our Lord.
My part in it was so full of imperfections, that I look upon
myself rather as a person in fault than as one to whom any
thanks are due. But it was a great joy to me when I saw His
Majesty make use of me, who am so worthless, as His instru
ment in so grand a work. I was therefore in great joy, — so
much so, that I was, as it were, beside myself, lost in prayer.
6. When all was done — it might have been about three
or four hours afterwards — Satan returned to the spiritual
fight against me, as I shall now relate. He suggested to me
that perhaps I had been wrong in what I had done ; perhaps
I had failed in my obedience, in having brought it about with
out the commandment of the Provincial. I did certainly think
that the Provincial would be displeased because I had placed
the monastery under the jurisdiction of the Bishop1 without
telling him of it beforehand ; though, as he would not acknow
ledge the monastery himself, and as I had not changed mine, it
seemed to me that perhaps he would not care much about
the matter. Satan also suggested whether the nuns would be
contented to live in so strict a house, whether they could
always find food, whether I had not done a silly thing, and
what had I to do with it, when I was already in a monastery?
All our Lord had said to me, all the opinions I had heard, and
all the prayers which had been almost uninterrupted for more
than two years, were completely blotted out of my memory,
just as if they had never been. The only thing I remembered
was my opinion ; and every virtue, with faith itself, was
then suspended within me, so that I was without strength
to practise any one of them, or to defend myself against so
many blows.
7. The devil also would have me ask myself how I could
think of shutting myself up in so strict a house, when I was
subject to so many infirmities ; how could I bear so penitential
a life, and leave a house large and pleasant, where I had been
always so happy, and where I had so many friends? — perhaps
I might not like those of the new monastery ; I had taken
1 See Foundations, ch. ii. § 1, and ch. xxxi. § 1.
280 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI.
on myself a heavy obligation, and might possibly end in
despair. He also suggested that perhaps it was he himself
who had contrived it, in order to rob me of my peace and
rest, so that, being unable to pray, I might be disquieted,
and so lose my soul. Thoughts of this kind he put before
me ; and they were so many, that I could think of nothing
else ; and with them came such distress, obscurity, and dark
ness of soul as I can never describe. When I found myself
in this state, I wrent and placed myself before the most Holy
Sacrament, though I could not pray to Him ; so great was my
anguish, that I was like one in the agony of death. I could
not make the matter known to any one, because no confessor
had as yet been appointed.
8. O my God, how wretched is this, life! No joy is
lasting; every thing is liable to change. Only a moment ago,
I do not think I would have exchanged my joy with any man
upon earth; and the very grounds of that joy so tormented
me now, that I knew not what to do with myself. Oh, if we
did but consider carefully the events of our life, every one of
us would learn from experience how little we ought to make
either of its pleasures or of its pains ! Certainly this was, I be
lieve, one of the most distressing moments I ever passed in all
my life ; my spirit seemed to forecast the great sufferings in
store for me, though they never were so heavy as this was, if it
had continued. But our Lord would not let His poor servant
suffer, for in all my troubles He never failed to succour me;
so it was now. He gave me a little light, so that I might see
it was the work of the devil, and might understand the truth,
namely, that it was nothing else but an attempt on his part
to frighten me with his lies. So I began to call to mind my
great resolutions to serve our Lord, and my desire to suffer
for His sake ; and I thought that if I carried them out, I
must not seek to be at rest; that if I had my trials, they would
be meritorious ; and that if I had troubles, and endured them
in order to please God, it would serve me for purgatory. What
was I, then, afraid of? If I longed for tribulations, I had
them now; and my gain lay in the greatest opposition. Why,
then, did I fail in courage to serve One to whom I owed so
much?
9. After making these and other reflections, and doing
great violence to myself, I promised before the most Holy
S^crpment to do all in my power to obtain permission to enter
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 281
this house, and, if I could do it with a good conscience, to
make a vow of enclosure. When I had done this, the devil
fled in a moment, and left me calm and peaceful, and I have
continued so ever since ; and the enclosure, penances, and
other rules of this house are to me, in their observance, so
singularly sweet and light, the joy I have is so exceedingly
great, that I am now and then thinking what on earth I could
have chosen which should be more delightful. I know not
whether this may not be the cause of my being in better
health than I was ever before, or whether it be that our Lord,
because it is needful and reasonable that I should do as all
the others do, gives me this comfort of keeping the whole
rule, though with some difficulty. However, all who know my
infirmities are astonished at my strength. Blessed be He
who giveth it all, and in whose strength I am strong!
10. Such a contest left me greatly fatigued, and laughing
at Satan ; for I saw clearly it was he. As I have never known
what it is to be discontented because I am a nun — no, not
for an instant — during more than twenty-eight years of relig
ion, I believe that our Lord suffered me to be thus tempted,
that I might understand how great a mercy He had shown
me herein, and from what torment He had delivered me, and
that if I saw any one in like trouble I might not be alarmed
at it, but have pity on her, and be able to console her.
11. Then, when this was over, I wished to rest myself
a little after our dinner; for during the whole of that night
I had scarcely rested at all, and for some nights previously
I had had much trouble and anxiety, while every day was
full of toil ; for the news of what we had done had reached
my monastery, and was spread through the city. There arose
a great outcry, for the reasons I mentioned before,1 and
there was some apparent ground for it. The prioress2 sent
for me to come to her immediately. When I received the
order, I went at once, leaving the nuns in great distress. I
saw clearly enough that there were troubles before me; but
as the work was really done, I did not care much for that.
I prayed and implored our Lord to help me, and my father
S. Joseph to bring me back to his house. I offered up to him
all I was to suffer, rejoicing greatly that I had the opportunity
of suffering for his honour and of doing him service. I went
persuaded that I should be put in prison at once ; but this
1 Ch. xxxiii. §§ 1, 2. 2 Of the Incarnation.
THE LIFE OF S TERESA. [CH. XXXVI.
would have been a great comfort, because I should have
nobody to speak to, and might have some rest and solitude,
of which I was in g-reat need; for so much intercourse with
people had worn me out.
12. When I came and told the prioress what I had done,
she was softened a little. They all sent for the Provincial,
and the matter was reserved for him. When he came, I was
summoned to judgment, rejoicing greatly at seeing that I had
something to suffer for our Lord, I 'did not think I had
offended against His Majesty, or against my Order, in any
thing I had done; on the contrary, I was striving with all
my might to exalt my Order, for which I would willingly
have died, — for my whole desire was that its rule might be
observed in all perfection. I thought of Christ receiving sen
tence, and I saw how this of mine would be less than nothing.
I confessed my fault, as if I had been very much to blame;
and so I seemed to every one who did not know all the
reasons. After the Provincial had rebuked me sharply —
though not with the severity which my fault deserved, nor
according to the representations made 'to him — I would not
defend myself, for I was determined to bear it all ; on the
contrary, I prayed him to forgive and punish, and be no longer
angry with me.
13. I saw well enough that they condemned me on some
charges of which I was innocent, for they said I had founded
the monastery that I might be thought much of, and to make
myself a name, and for other reasons of that kind. But on
other points I understood clearly that they were speaking
the truth, as when they said that I was more wicked than
the other nuns. They asked, how could I, who had not kept
the rule in that house, think of keeping it in another of stricter
observance? They said I was giving scandal in the city, and
setting up novelties. All this neither troubled nor distressed
me in the least, though I did seem to feel it, lest I should
appear to make light of what they were saying.
14. At last the Provincial commanded me to explain my
conduct before the nuns, and I had to do it. As I was per
fectly calm, and our Lord helped me, I explained every thing
in such a way that neither the Provincial nor those who were
present found any reason to condemn me. Afterwards I
spoke more plainly to the Provincial alone ; he was very much
satisfied, and promised, if the new monastery prospered, and
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 283
the city became quiet, to give me leave to live in it. Now the
outcry in the city was very great, as I am going to tell. Two
or three days after this, the governor, certain members of
the council of the city and of the Chapter, came together, and
resolved that the new monastery should not be allowed to
exist, that it was a visible wrong to the state, that the most
Holy Sacrament should be removed, and that they would not
suffer us in any way to go on with our work.
15. They assembled all the Orders — that is, two learned
men from each — to give their opinion. Some were silent,
others condemned; in the end, they resolved that the monas
tery should be broken up. Only one1 — he was of the Order
of S. Dominic, and objected, not to the monastery itself, but
to the foundation of it in poverty — said that there was no
reason why it should be thus dissolved, that the matter ought
to be well considered, that there was time enough, that it
was the affair of the bishop, with other things of that kind.
This was of great service to us, for they were angry enough
to proceed to its destruction at once, and it was fortunate
they did not. In short, the monastery must exist ; our Lord
was pleased to have it, and all of them could do nothing
against His will. They gave their reasons, and showed their
zeal for good, and thus, without offending God, made me
suffer together with all those who were in favour of the
monastery ; there were not many, but they suffered much per
secution The inhabitants were so excited, that they talked
of nothing else ; every one condemned me, and hurried to the
Provincial and to my monastery.
16. I was no more distressed by what they said of me
than if they had said nothing ; but I was afraid the monastery
would be destroyed : that was painful ; so also was it to see
1 F. Domingo Banes, the great commentator on S. Thomas. On
the margin of the MS., Banes has with his own hand written: "This
was at the end of August, 1562. I was present, and gave this opinion.
I am writing this in May" (the day of the month is not legible)
"1575, and the mother has now founded nine monasteries en gran
religion" (De la Fuente). At this time Banes did not know, and had
never seen, the Saint; he undertook her defence simply because he saw
that her intentions were good, and the means she made use of for
founding the monastery lawful, seeing that she had received the
commandment to do so from the Pope. Banes testifies thus in the
depositions made in Salamanca in 1591, in the Saint's process. See
vol. ii. p. 376 of Don Vicente's edition.
284 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI.
those persons who helped me lose their credit and suffer .so
much annoyance. But as to what was said of myself I was
rather glad, and if I had had any faith I should not have been
troubled -at all ; but a slight failing in one virtue is enough to
put all the others to sleep. I was therefore extremely distressed
during the two days on which those assemblies of which I have
spoken were held. In the extremity of my trouble, our Lord
said to me : "Knowest thou not that I am the Almighty ? what
art thou afraid of?" He made me feel assured that the
monastery would not be broken up, and I was exceedingly
comforted. The informations taken were sent up to the king's
council, and an order came back for a report on the whole
matter.
17. Here was the beginning of a grand lawsuit : the city
sent delegates to the court, and some must be sent also
to defend the monastery: but I had no money, nor did I
know what to do Our Lord provided for us ; for the Father-
Provincial never ordered me not to meddle in the matter.
He is so great a lover of all that is good, that, though he
did not help us, he would not be against our work. Neither
did he authorise me to enter the house till he saw how it
would end. Those servants of God who were in it were left
alone, and did more by their prayers than I did with all
my negotiations, though the affair needed the utmost atten
tion. Now and then every thing seemed to fail; particularly
one day, before the Provincial came, when the prioress ordered
me to meddle no more with it, and to give it up altogether.
I betook myself to God, and said, "O Lord, this house is not
mine; it was founded for Thee; and now that there is no
one to take up the cause, do Thou protect it." I now felt
myself in peace, and as free from anxiety as if the whole
world were on my side in the matter; and at once I looked
upon it as safe.1
18. A very great servant of God, and a lover of all per
fection, a priest2 who had helped me always, went to the
court on this business, and took great pains. That holy
nobleman3 of whom I have often spoken laboured much on
our behalf, and helped us in every way. He had much
trouble and persecution to endure, and I always found a
1 See ch. xxxix. § 24.
2 Gonzalo de Aranda (De la Fuente}.
3 Don Francisco de Salcedo (ibid.'}.
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 285
father in him, and do so still. All those who helped us,
our Lord filled with such fervour as made them consider
our affair as their own, as if their own life and reputation
were at stake; and yet it was nothing to them, except in so
far as it regarded the service of our Lord. His Majesty
visibly helped the priest I have spoken of before,1 who was
also one of those who gave us great help when the Bishop
sent him as his representative to one of the great meetings.
There he stood alone against all ; at last he pacified them by
means of certain propositions, which obtained us a little re
spite. But that was not enough ; for they were ready to
spend their lives, if they could but destroy the monastery.
This servant of God was he who gave the habit and reserved
the most Holy Sacrament, and he was the object of much
persecution. This attack lasted about six months : to relate
in detail the heavy trials we passed through would be too
tedious.
19. I wondered at what Satan did against a few poor
women, and also how all people thought that merely twelve
women, with a prioress, could be so hurtful to the city, —
for they were not to be more, — I say this to those who
opposed us, — and living such austere lives ; for if any harm
or error came of it, it would all fall upon them. Harm to
the city there could not be in any way; and yet the people
thought there was so much in it, that they opposed us with
a good conscience. At last they resolved they would tolerate
us if we were endowed, and in consideration of that would
suffer us to remain. I was so distressed at the trouble of
all those who were on our side — more than at my own —
that I thought it would not be amiss, till the people were
pacified, to accept an endowment, but afterwards to resign it.
At other times, too, wicked and imperfect as I am, I thought
that perhaps our Lord wished it to be so, seeing that, without
accepting it, we could not succeed; and so I consented to
the compromise.
20. The night before the settlement was to be made,
I was in prayer, — the discussion of the terms of it had al
ready begun, — when our Lord said to me that I must do
nothing of the kind ; for if we began with an endowment,
they would never allow us to resign it. He said some other
things also. The same night, the holy friar, Peter of Al-
1 Ch. xxiii. § 6; Caspar Daza (ibid.}.
286 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI.
cantara, appeared to me. He was then dead.1 But he had
written to me before his death — for he knew the great op
position and persecution we had to bear — that he was glad
the foundation was so much spoken against; it was a sign
that our Lord would be exceedingly honoured in the mon
astery, seeing that Satan was so earnest against it; and that
I was by no means to consent to an endowment. He urged
this upon me twice or thrice in that letter, and said that
if I persisted in this every thing would succeed according
to my wish.
21. At this time I had already seen him twice since his
death, and the great glory he was in, and so I was not afraid,
— on the contrary, I was very glad; for he always appeared
as a glorified body in great happiness, and the vision made
me very happy too. I remember that he told me, the first
time I saw him, among other things, when speaking of the
greatness of his joy, that the penance he had done was a
blessed thing for him, in that it had obtained so great a
reward. But, as I think I have spoken of this before,2 I
will now say no more than that he showed himself severe
on this occasion: he merely said that I was on no account
to accept an endowment, and asked why it was I did not
take his advice. He then disappeared. I remained in aston
ishment, and the next day told the nobleman — for I went
to him in all my trouble, as to one who did more than others
for us in the matter — what had taken place, and charged
him not to consent to the endowment, but to let the lawsuit
go on. He was more firm on this point than I was, and
was therefore greatly pleased; he told me afterwards how
much he disliked the compromise.
22. After this, another personage — a great servant of God,
and with good intentions — came forward, who, now that the
matter was in good train, advised us to put it in the hands
of learned men. This brought on trouble enough; for some
of those who helped me agreed to do so; and this plot of
Satan was one of the most difficult of all to unravel. Our
Lord was my helper throughout. Writing thus briefly, it
is impossible for me to explain what took place during the
two years that passed between the beginning and the com
pletion of the monastery : the last six months and the first
six months were the most painful.
1 He died Oct. 18, 1562. 2 Ch. xxvii. § 18.
CH. XXXVI. ] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 287
23. When at last the city was somewhat calm, the licen
tiate father, the Dominican friar1 who helped us, exerted
himself most skillfully on our behalf. Though not here at
the time, our Lord brought him here at a most convenient
moment for our service, and it seems that His Majesty
brought him for that purpose only. He told me afterwards
that he had no reasons for coming, and that he heard of our
affair as if by chance. He remained here as long as we
wanted him : and on going away he prevailed, by some means,
on the Father-Provincial to permit me to enter this house,
and to take with me some of the nuns2 — such a permission
seemed impossible in so short a time — for the performance
of the Divine Office, and the training of those who were in
this house : the day of our coming was a most joyful day
for me.3
24. While praying in the church, before I went into the
house, and being as it were in a trance, I saw Christ; who,
as it seemed to me, received me with great affection, placed
a crown on my head, and thanked me for what I had done
for His Mother. On another occasion, when all of us re
mained in the choir in prayer after Compline, I saw our Lady
in exceeding glory, in a white mantle, with which she seemed
to cover us all. I understood by that the high degree of
glory to which our Lord would raise the religious of this
house.
25. When we had begun to sing the Office, the people
began to have a great devotion to the monastery: more nuns
were received, and our Lord began to stir up those who had
been our greatest persecutors to become great benefactors,
and give alms to us. In this way they came to approve of
what they had condemned; and so, by degrees, they with-
"El Padre Presentado, Dominico. Presentado en algunas Relig-
iones es cierto titulo de grade que es respeto del Maestro Como
Licenciado" (Cobarruvias, in voce Presente). The father was Fra
Pedro Ibanez. See ch. xxxviii. § 15.
From the monastery of the Incarnation. These were Ana of S.
John, Ana of All the Angels, Maria Isabel, and Isabel of S. Paul.
S. Teresa was a simple nun, living under obedience to the prioress of
S. Joseph, Ana of S. John, and intended so to remain. But the nuns
applied to the Bishop of Avila and to the Provincial of the Order, who,
listening to the complaints of the sisters, compelled the Saint to be
their prioress. See Reforma, i. c. xlvii. § 4.
3 Mid-Lent of 1563.
288 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI.
drew from the lawsuit, and would say that they now felt it
to be a work of God, since His Majesty had' been pleased to
carry it on in the face of so much opposition. And now
there is not one who thinks that it would have been right
not to have founded the monastery : so they make a point
of furnishing us with alms ; for without any asking on our
part, without begging of any one, our Lord moves them to
succour us ; and so we always have what is necessary for us,
and I trust in our Lord it will always be so.1 As the sisters
are few in number, if they do their duty as our Lord at present
by His grace enables them to do, I am confident that they will
always have it, and that they need not be a burden nor trouble
some to any body ; for our Lord will care for them, as He
has hitherto done.
26. It is the greatest consolation to me to find myself
among those who are so detached. Their occupation is to
learn how they may advance in the service of God. Solitude
is their delight; and the thought of being visited by any one,
even of their nearest kindred, is a trial, unless it helps them
to kindle more and more their love of the Bridegroom.
Accordingly, none come to this house who do not aim at
this ; otherwise they neither give nor receive any pleasure
from their visits. Their conversation is of God only ; and
so he whose conversation is different does not understand
them, and they do not understand him.
27. We keep the rule of our Lady of Carmel, not the
rule of the Mitigation, but as it was settled by Fr. Hugo,
Cardinal of Santa Sabina, and given in the year 1248, in the
fifth year of the pontificate of Innocent IV., Pope. All the
trouble we had to go through, as it seems to me, will have
been endured to good purpose.
28. And now, though the rule be somewhat severe, —
for we never eat flesh except in cases of necessity, fast eight
months in the year, and practise some other austerities besides,
according to the primitive rule,2 — yet the sisters think it
1 See Way of Perfection, ch. ii.
2 Brockic, iii. 20: "Jejunium singulis diebus, exceptis Dominicis,
observetis a Festo Exaltationis Sanctde Crucis usque ad diem Domi-
nicre Resurrectionis, nisi infirmitas seu debilitas corporis, aut alia
justa causa, jejunium solvi suadeat; quia necessitas non habet legem.
Ab esu carnium semper abstineatis, nisi pro infirmitatis aut nimia?
debilitatis remedio sint sumendze." That is the seventh section of the
rule.
CH, XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 289
light on many points, and so they have other observances,
which we have thought necessary for the more perfect keep
ing of it. And I trust in our Lord that what we have begun
will prosper more and more, to the promise which His
Majesty gave me.
29. The other house, which the holy woman of whom
I spoke before1 laboured to establish, has been also blessed
of our Lord, and is founded in Alcala : it did not escape seri
ous oppositions, nor fail to endure many trials. I know that
all duties of religion are observed in it, according to our
primitive rule. Our Lord grant that all may be to the praise
and glory of Himself and of the glorious Virgin Mary, whose
habit we wear. Amen.
30. I think you must be wearied, my father, by the
tedious history of this monastery ; and yet it is most concise,
if you compare it with our labours, and the wonders which
our Lord has wrought here. There are many who can bear
witness to this on oath. I therefore beg of your reverence,
for the love of God, should you think fit to destroy the rest
of this my writing, to preserve that part of it which relates to
this monastery, and give it, when I am dead, to the sisters
who may then be living in it. It will encourage them greatly,
who shall come here both to serve God and to labour, that
what has been thus begun may not fall to decay, but ever
grow and thrive, when they see how much our Lord has
done through one so mean and vile as I. As our Lord has
been so particularly gracious to us in the foundation of this
house, it seems to me that she will do very wrong, and
that she will be heavily chastised of God, who shall be the
first to relax the perfect observance of the rule, which our
Lord has here begun and countenanced, so that it may be
kept with so much sweetness : it is most evident that the
observance of it is easy, and that it can be kept with ease,
by the arrangement made for those who long to be alone
1 See ch. xxxv. § 1. Maria of Jesus had founded her house in
Alcala de Henares; but the austerities practised in it, and the absence
of the religious mitigations which long experience had introduced,
were too much for the fervent nuns there assembled. Maria of
Jesus begged Dona Leonor de Mascarenas to persuade S. Teresa
to come to Alcala. The Saint went to the monastery, and was
received there with joy, and even entreated to take the house under
her own government (Re forma, ii. c. x. §§ 3, 4).
290 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVII,
with their Bridegroom Christ, in order to live for ever in
Him.
31. This is to be the perpetual aim of those who are
here, to be alone with Him alone. They are not to be more
in number than thirteen: I know this number to be the best,
for I have had many opinions about it; and I have seen in
my own experience, that to preserve our spirit, living on
alms, without asking of any one, a larger number would
be inexpedient. May they always believe one who with much
labour, and by the prayers of many people, accomplished
that which must be for the best ! That this is most expedient
for us will be seen from the joy and cheerfulness, and the
few troubles, we have all had in the years we have lived in
this house, as well as from the better health than usual of
us all. If any one thinks the rule hard, let her lay the fault
on her want of the true spirit, and not on the rule of the
house, seeing that delicate persons, and those not saints, —
because they have the true spirit, — can bear it all with so
much sweetness. Let others go to another monastery, where
they may save their souls in the way of their own spirit.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE EFFECTS OF THE DIVINE GRACES IN THE SOUL THE INESTI
MABLE GREATNESS OF ONE DEGREE OF GLORY.
1. IT is painful to me to recount more of the graces
which our Lord gave me than these already spoken of; and
they are so many, that nobody can believe they were ever
given to one so wicked: but in obedience to our Lord, who
has commanded me to do it,1 and you my fathers, I will
speak of some of them to His glory. May it please His
Majesty it may be to the profit of some soul ! For if our
Lord has been thus gracious to so miserable a thing as my
self, what will He be to those who shall serve Him truly?
1 The Saint, having interrupted her account of her interior life
in order to give the history of the foundation of the monastery of S.
Joseph, Avila, — the first house of the Reformed Carmelites, — here
resumes that account, broken off at the end of § 10 of ch. xxxii.
NINTH FOUNDATION— MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del
1. Painting- of Our Lady of Sorrows, bought by St. Teresa on the day of her
arrival in Salamanca. 2. House in which the foundation was made. 3. Courtyard
of this house. 4. Doorway of the convent of St. Elizabeth (founded by the de
Solis family), whose nuns came to the aid of the Carmelites 5. Tin water bottle
used by St. Teresa for carrying holy water, which is preserved in the monastery.
6. Mansion of the Counts of Monterey. 7. Portrait of Beatrix of the Conception.
8. Carmelite monastery opposite the gate of Villa Mayor, view taken from the
ST. JOSEPH AT SALAMANCA
XV.
Bruges,? Raoux Sc
promenade. Students asking- alms in the city streets; seller of ices. 9. Facade of
the Carmelite church. 10. Monument in the main street of the city commemorating-
the choice of St. Teresa and of St. Juan of Sahagon as patron saints of Salamanca.
11. Facade of the Discalced Carmelite church. 12. Arms of Maria de Pimentel de
y.iiiiiua. Countess of Monterey. 13. Arms of the de Soils family. 14. Arms of the
de Ovalle family, from a shield carved upon the house called "The Student's House."
15. Original arms of the city of Salamanca. (See Appendix, note 16.)
CH. XXXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 291
Let all people resolve to please His Majesty, seeing that
He gives such pledges as these even in this life.1
2. In the first place, it must be understood that, in those
graces which God bestows on the soul, there are diverse
degrees of joy: for in some visions the joy and sweetness
and comfort of them so far exceed those of others, that I
am amazed at the different degrees of fruition even in this
life; for it happens that the joy and consolation which God
gives in a vision or a trance are so different, that it seems
impossible for the soul to be able to desire any thing more
in this world: and so, in fact, the soul does not desire, nor
would it ask for, a greater joy. Still, since our Lord has
made me understand how great a difference there is in heaven
itself between the fruition of one and that of another, I see
clearly enough that here also, when our Lord wills, He gives
not by measure;2 and so I wish that I myself observed no
measure in serving His Majesty, and in using my whole
life and strength and health therein; and I would not have
any fault of mine rob me of the slightest degree of fruition.
3. And so I say that if I were asked which I preferred,
to endure all the trials of the world until the end of it,
and then receive one slight degree of glory additional, or
without any suffering of any kind to enter into glory of a
slightly lower degree, I would accept — oh, how willingly!
all those trials for one slight degree of fruition in the con
templation of the greatness of God; for I know that he
who understands Him best, loves Him and praises Him best.
I do not mean that I should not be satisfied, and consider
myself most blessed, to be in heaven, even if I should be
in the lowest place; for as I am one who had that place in
hell, it would be a great mercy of our Lord to admit me at
all ; and may it please His Majesty to bring me thither, and
take away His eyes from beholding my grievous sins. What
I mean is this, — if it were in my power, even if it cost me
every thing, and our Lord gave me the grace to endure much
affliction, I would not through any fault of mine lose one
degree of glory. Ah, wretched that I am, who by so many
faults had forfeited all !
4. It is also to be observed that, in every vision or rev
elation which our Lord in His mercy sent me, a great gain
accrued to my soul, and that in some of the visions this
1 Ephes. i. 14. » S. John iii. 34.
292 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVII.
gain was very great. The vision of Christ left behind an
impression of His exceeding beauty, and it remains with me
to this day. One vision alone of Him is enough to effect
this ; what, then, must all those visions have done, which our
Lord in His mercy sent me? One exceedingly great blessing
has resulted therefrom, and it is this, — I had one very grievous
fault, which was the source of much evil ; namely, when
ever I found any body well disposed towards myself, and
I liked him, I used to have such an affection for him as
compelled me always to remember and think of him, though
I had no intention of offending God : however, I was pleased
to see him, to think of him and of his good qualities. All
this was so hurtful, that it brought my soul to the very
verge of destruction.
5. But ever since I saw the great beauty1 of our Lord,
I never saw any one who in comparison with Him seemed
even endurable, or that could occupy my thoughts. For if
I but turn mine eyes inwardly for a moment to the contempla
tion of the image which I have within me, I find myself so
free, that from that instant every thing I see is loathsome in
comparison with the excellences and graces of which I had
a vision in our Lord. Neither is there any sweetness, nor
any kind of pleasure, which I can make any account of, com
pared with that which comes from hearing but one word from
His divine mouth. What, then, must it be when I hear
so many? I look upon it as impossible — unless our Lord,
for my sins, should permit the loss of this remembrance — that
I should have the power to occupy myself with any thing
in such a way as that I should not instantly recover my
liberty by thinking of our Lord.
6. This has happened to me with some of my confessors,
for I always have a great affection for those who have the
direction of my soul. As I really saw in them only the
representatives of God, I thought my will was always
there where it is most occupied; and as I felt very safe in
the matter, I always showed myself glad to see them.2 They,
on the other hand, servants of God, and fearing Him, were
afraid that I was attaching and binding myself too much
to them, though in a holy way, and treated me with rude-
1 Ch. xxviii. §§ 1-5.
2 See ch. xl. § 25; Way of Perfection, ch. vii. § 1; but ch. iv. of the
previous editions.
CH. XXXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 293
ness. This took place after I had become so ready to obey
them; for before that time I had no affection whatever for
them. I used to laugh to myself, when I saw how much
they were deceived. Though I was not always putting be
fore them how little I was attached to any body, as clearly
as I was convinced of it myself, yet I did assure them of
it; and they, in their further relations with me, acknowledged
how much I owed to our Lord in the matter. These sus
picions of me always arose in the beginning.
7. My love of, and trust in, our Lord, after I had seen
Him in a vision, began to grow, for my converse with Him
was so continual. I saw that, though He was God, He was
man also; that He is not surprised at the frailties of men;
that He understands our miserable nature, liable to fall con
tinually, because of the first sin, for the reparation of which
He had come. I could speak to Him as to a friend, though
He is my Lord, because I do not consider Him as one of
our earthly lords, who affect a power they do not possess,
who give audience at fixed hours, and to whom only cer
tain persons may speak. If a poor man have any business
with these, it will cost him many goings and comings, and
currying favour with others, together with much pain and
labour before he can speak to them Ah, if such a one has
business with a king! Poor people, not of gentle blood,
cannot approach him, for they must apply to those who are
his friends; and certainly these are not persons who tread
the world under their feet; for they who do this speak the
truth, fear nothing, and ought to fear nothing; they are not
courtiers, because it is not the custom of a court, where
they must be silent about those things they dislike, must
not even dare to think about them, lest they should fall into
disgrace.
8. O King of glory, and Lord of all kings ! oh, how Thy
kingly dignity is not hedged about by trifles of this kind !
Thy kingdom is for ever. We do not require chamberlains
to introduce us into Thy presence. The very vision of Thy
person shows us at once that Thou alone art to be called
Lord. Thy Majesty is so manifest, that there is no need of
a retinue or guard to make us confess that Thou art King.
An earthly king without attendants would be hardly acknowl
edged; and though he might wish ever so much to be recog
nised, people will not own him when he appears as others ;
294 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVII.
it is necessary that his dignity should be visible, if people
are to believe in it. This is reason enough why kings should
affect so much state; for if they had none, no one would
respect them; this their semblance of power is not in them
selves, and their authority must come to them from others.
9. O my Lord ! O my King ! who can describe Thy
Majesty? It is impossible not to see that Thou art Thyself
the great Ruler of all, that the beholding of Thy Majesty
fills men with awe. But I am filled with greater awe, O my
Lord, when I consider Thy humility, and the love Thou hast
for such as I am. We can converse and speak wi',h Thee
about every thing whenever we will ; and when we lose our
first fear and awe at the vision of Thy Majesty, we have a
greater dread of offending Thee, — not arising out of the fear
of punishment, O my Lord, for that is as nothing in com
parison with the loss of Thee !
10. Thus far of the blessings of this vision, without
speaking of others, which abide in the soul when it is past.
If it be from God, the fruits thereof show it, when the soul
receives light; for, as I have often said,1 the will of our
Lord is that the soul should be in darkness, and not see
this light. It is, therefore, nothing to be wondered at that
I, knowing myself to be so wicked as I am, should be afraid.
11. It is only just now it happened to me to be for eight
days in a state wherein it seemed that I did not, and could
not, confess my obligations to God, or remember His mercies ;
but my soul was so stupefied and occupied with I know not
what nor how: not that I had any bad thoughts; only I
was so incapable of good thoughts, that I was laughing at
myself, and even rejoicing to see how mean a soul can be
if God is not always working in it.2 The soul sees clearly
that God is not away from it in this state, and that it is
not in those great tribulations which I have spoken of as
being occasionally mine. Though it heaps up fuel, and does
the little it can do of itself, it cannot make the fire of the
love of God burn : it is a great mercy that even the smoke
is visible, showing that it is not altogether quenched. Our
Lord will return and kindle it ; and until then the soul —
though it may lose its breath in blowing and arranging the
fuel — seems to be doing nothing but putting it out more and
more.
1 See ch. xx. § 14. 2 See ch. xxx. § 19.
CH. XXXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 295
12. I believe that now the best course is to be absolutely
resigned, confessing that we can do nothing, and so apply
ourselves — as I said before1 — to something else which is
meritorious. Our Lord, it may be, takes away from the soul
the power of praying, that it may betake itself to something
else, and learn by experience how little it can do in its
own strength.
13. It is true I have this day been rejoicing in our Lord,
and have dared to complain of His Majesty. I said unto
Him: How is it, O my God, that it is not enough for Thee
to detain me in this wretched life, and that I should have
to bear with it for the love of Thee, and be willing to live
where every thing hinders the fruition of Thee ; where, be
sides, I must eat and sleep, transact business, and converse
with every one, and all for Thy love? how is it, then, — for
Thou well knowest, O my Lord, all this to be the greatest
torment unto me, — that, in the rare moments when I am
with Thee, Thou hidest Thyself from me? How is this
consistent with Thy compassion? How can that love Thou
hast for me endure this? I believe, O Lord, if it were pos
sible for me to hide myself from Thee, as Thou hidest Thy
self from me — I think and believe so — such is Thy love, that
Thou wouldest not endure it at my hands. But Thou art
with me, and seest me always. O my Lord, I beseech Thee
look to this ; it must not be ; a wrong is done to one who
loves Thee so much.
14. I happened to utter these words, and others of the
same kind, when I should have been thinking rather how
my place in hell was pleasant in comparison with the place
I deserved. But now and then my love makes me foolish,
so that I lose my senses ; only it is with all the sense I have
that I make these complaints, and our Lord bears it all.
Blessed be so good a King!
15. Can we be thus bold with the kings of this world?
And yet I am not surprised that we dare not thus speak to a
king, for it is only reasonable that men should be afraid of
him, or even to the great lords who are his representatives.
The world is now come to such a state, that men's lives ought
to be longer than they are, if we are to learn all the new
customs and ceremonies of good breeding, and yet spend
any time in the service of God. I bless myself at the sight
1 See ch. xxx. §§ 18, 25.
296 THE LIFE OF S TERESA. [CH. XXXVII.
of what is going on. The fact is, I did not know how I
was to live when I came into this house. Any negligence
in being much more ceremonious with people than they de
serve is not taken as a jest; on the contrary, they look upon
it as an insult deliberately offered; so that it becomes neces
sary for you to satisfy them of your good intentions, if there
happens, as I have said, to have been any negligence ; and
even then, God grant they may believe you.
16. I repeat it, — I certainly did not know how to live ;
for my poor soul was worn out. It is told to employ all
its thoughts always on God, and that it is necessary to do
so if it would avoid many dangers. On the other hand,
it finds it will not do to fail in any one point of the world's
law, under the penalty of affronting those who look upon
these things as touching their honour. I was worn out in
unceasingly giving satisfaction to people ; for, though I tried
my utmost, I could not help failing in many ways in matters
which, as I have said, are not slightly thought of in the
world.
17. Is it true that in religious houses no explanations
are necessary, for it is only reasonable we should be excused
these observances? Well, that is not so; for there are people
who say that monasteries ought to be courts in politeness
and instruction. I certainly cannot understand it. I thought
that perhaps some saint may have said that they ought
to be courts to teach those who wish to be the courtiers
of heaven, and that these people misunderstood their mean
ing; for if a man be careful to please God continually, and
to hate the world, as he ought to do, I do not see how he
can be equally careful to please those who live in the world
in these matters which are continually changing. If they
could be learnt once for all, it might be borne with : but as
to the way of addressing letters, there ought to be a pro
fessor's chair founded, from which lectures should be given,
so to speak, teaching us how to do it ; for the paper should
on one occasion be left blank in one corner, and on another
in another corner; and a man must be addressed as the illus
trious who was not hitherto addressed as the magnificent.
18. I know not where this will stop : I am not yet fifty,
and yet I have seen so many changes during my life, that
I do not know how to live. What will they do who are
only just born, and who may live many years? Certainly
<JH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 297
I am sorry for those spiritual people who, for certain holy
purposes, are obliged to live in the world ; the cross they
have to carry is a dreadful one. If they could all agree to
gether, and make themselves ignorant, and be willing to be
considered so in these sciences, they would set themselves free
from much trouble But what folly am I about ! from speak
ing of the greatness of God I am come to speak of the mean
ness of the world ! Since our Lord has given me the grace to
quit it, I wish to leave it altogether. Let them settle these
matters who maintain these follies with so much labour. God
grant that in the next life, where there is no changing, we
may not have to pay for them! Amen.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CERTAIN HEAVENLY SECRETS, VISIONS, AND REVELATIONS THE
EFFECTS OF THEM IN HER SOUL.
1. ONE night I was so unwell that I thought I might
be excused making my prayer; so I took my rosary, that
I might employ myself in vocal prayer, trying not to be
recollected in my understanding, though outwardly I was
recollected, being in my oratory. These little precautions
are of no use when our Lord will have it otherwise. I re
mained there but a few moments thus, when I was rapt in
spirit with such violence that I could make no resistance
whatever. It seemed to me that I was taken up to heaven ;
and the first persons I saw there were my father and my
mother. I saw other things also ; but the time was no longer
than that in which the Ave Maria might be said, and I was
amazed at it, looking on it all as too great a grace for me.
But as to the shortness of the time, it might have been longer,
only it was all done in a very short space.
2. I was afraid it might be an illusion; but as I did not
think so, I knew not what to do, because I was very much
ashamed to go to my confessor about it. It was not, as
it seemed to me, because I was humble, but because I thought
he would laugh at me, and say: Oh, what a S. Paul !— she
sees the things of heaven; or a S. Jerome. And because
these glorious Saints had had such visions, I was so much
298 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII.
the more afraid, and did nothing but cry; for I did not
think it possible for me to see what they saw. As last, though
I felt it exceedingly, I went to my confessor; for I never
dared to keep secret any thing of this kind, however much it
distressed me to speak of them, owing to the great fear I
had of being deceived. When my confessor saw how much
I was suffering, he consoled me greatly, and gave me plenty
of good reasons why I should have no fear.
3. It happened, also, as time went on, and it happens
now from time to time, that our Lord showed me still
greater secrets. The soul, even if it would, has neither the
means nor the power to see more than what He shows
it; and so, each time, I saw nothing more than what our
Lord was pleased to let me see. But such was the vision,
that the least part of it was enough to make my soul amazed,
and to raise it so high that it esteems and counts as nothing
all the things of this life. I wish I could describe, in some
measure, the smallest portion of what I saw ; but when I think
of doing it, I find it impossible; for the mere difference alone
between the light we have here below, and that which is seen
in a vision, — both being light, — is so great, that there is no
comparison between them ; the brightness of the sun itself
seems to be something exceedingly loathsome. In a word,
the imagination, however strong it may be, can neither con
ceive nor picture to itself this light, nor any one of the
things which our Lord showed me in a joy so supreme that
it cannot be described : for then all the senses exult so deeply
and so sweetly, that no description is possible; and so it is
better to say nothing more.
4. I was in this state once for more than an hour, our
Lord showing me wonderful things. He seemed as if He
would not leave me. He said to me : "See, My daughter,
what they lose who are against Me ; do not fail to tell them
of it." Ah, my Lord, how little good my words will do
them, who are made blind by their own conduct, if Thy
Majesty will not give them light! Some, to whom Thou
hast given it, there are, who have profited by the knowledge
of Thy greatness ; but as they see it revealed to one so wicked
and base as I am, I look upon it as a great thing if there
should be any found to believe me. Blessed be Thy name,
and .blessed be Thy compassion ; for I can trace, at least
in my own soul, a visible improvement. Afterwards I wished
CH XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 299
I had continued in that trance for ever, and that I had not
returned to consciousness, because of an abiding sense of con
tempt for every thing here below; all semed to be filth; and
I see how meanly we employ ourselves who are detained
on earth.
5. When I was staying with that lady of whom I have
been speaking,1 it happened to me once when I was suffering
from my heart, — for, as I have said,2 I suffered greatly at
one time, though not so much now, — that she, being a person
of great charity, brought out her jewels set in gold, and
precious stones of great price, and particularly a diamond,
which she valued very much. She thought this might amuse
me ; but I laughed to myself, and was very sorry to see
what men made much of; for I thought of what our Lord
had laid up for us, and considered how impossible it was for
me, even if I made the effort, to have any appreciation what
ever of such things, provided our Lord did not permit me to
forget what He was keeping for us.
6. A soul in this state attains to a certain freedom, which
is so complete that none can understand it who does not
possess it. It is a real and true detachment, independent of
our efforts; God effects it all Himself; for His Majesty re
veals the truth in such a way, that it remains so deeply im
pressed on our souls as to make it clear that we of ourselves
could not thus acquire it in so short a time.
7. The fear of death, also, was now very slight in me,
who had always been in great dread of it; now it seems to
me that death is a very light thing for one who serves God,
because the soul is in a moment delivered thereby out of its
prison, and at rest. This elevation of the spirit, and the
vision of things so high, in these trances seem to me to have
a great likeness to the flight of the soul from the body, in '
that it finds itself in a moment in the possession of these
good things. We put aside the agonies of its dissolution,
of which no great account is to be made ; for they wrho love
God in truth, and are utterly detached from the things of
this life, must die with the greater sweetness.
8. It seems to me, also, that the rapture was a great
help to recognise our true home, and to see that we are
pilgrims here ;3 it is a great thing to see what is going on
1 Ch. xxxiv. Dona Luisa de la Cerda, at Toledo. 2 Ch. iv. § 6.
3 1 S. Pet. ii. 11.
300 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII.
there, and to know where we have to live; for if a person
has to go and settle in another country, it is a great help to
him, in undergoing the fatigues of his journey, that he has
discovered it to be a country where he may live in the
most perfect peace. Moreover, it makes it easy for us to
think of the things of heaven, and to have our conversation
there.1 It is a great gain, because the mere looking up to
heaven makes the soul recollected ; for as our Lord has been
pleased to reveal heaven in some degree, my soul dwells upon
it in thought; and it happens occasionally that they who are
about me, and with whom I find consolation, are those whom
I know to be living in heaven, and that I look upon them
only as really alive ; while those who are on earth are so
dead, that the whole world seems unable to furnish me with
companions, particularly when these impetuosities of love
are upon me. Every thing seems a dream, and what I see with
the bodily eyes an illusion. What I have seen with the eyes
of the soul is that which my soul desires ; and as it finds
itself far away from those things, that is death.
9. In a word, it is a very great mercy which our Lord
gives to that soul to which He grants the like visions, for
they help it in much, and also in carrying a heavy cross,
since nothing satisfies it, and every thing is against it; and
if our Lord did not now and then suffer these visions to be
forgotten, though they recur again and again to the memory,
I know not how life could be borne. May He be blessed
and praised for ever and ever! I implore His Majesty by
that Blood which His Son shed for me, now that, of His
good pleasure, I know something of these great blessings,
and begin to have the fruition of them, that it may not be
with me as it was with Lucifer, who by his own fault for-
1 feited it all. I beseech Thee, for Thine own sake, not to
suffer this ; for I am at times in great fear, though at others,
and most frequently, the mercy of God reassures me, for
He who has delivered me from so many sins will not with
draw His hand from under me, and let me be lost. I pray
you, my father, to beg this grace for me always.
10. The mercies, then, hitherto described, are not, in
my opinion, so great as those which I am now going to speak
of, on many accounts, because of the great blessings they
have brought with them, and because of the great fortitude
1 Philipp. iii. 20.
CH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 301
which my soul derived from them ; and yet every one sepa
rately considered is so great, that there is nothing to be
compared with them.
11. One day — it was the eve of Pentecost — I went after
Mass to a very lonely spot, where I used to pray very often,
and began to read about the feast in the book of a Carthusian;1
and reading of the marks by which beginners, proficients,
and the perfect may know that they have the Holy Ghost,
it seemed to me, when I had read of these three states, that
by the goodness of God, so far as I could understand, the
Holy Ghost was with me. I praised God for it; and calling
to mind how on another occasion, when I read this, I was
very deficient, — for I saw most distinctly at that time how
deficient I was then from what I saw I was now, — I recog
nised herein the great mercy of our Lord to me, and so
began to consider the place which my sins had earned for
me in hell, and praised God exceedingly, because it seemed
as if I did not know my own soul again, so great a change
had come over it.
12. While thinking of these things, my soul was carried
away with extreme violence, and I knew not why. It seemed
as if it would have gone forth out of the body, for it could
not contain itself, nor was it able to hope for so great a good.
The impetuosity was so excessive that I had no power left,
and, as I think, different from what I had been used to.
I knew not what ailed my soul, nor what it desired, for it
was so changed. I leaned for support, for I could not sit,
because my natural strength had utterly failed.
13. Then I saw over my head a dove, very different
from those we usually see, for it had not the same plumage,
but wings formed of small shells shining brightly. It was
larger than an ordinary dove; I thought I heard the rustling
of its wings. It hovered above me during the space of an
Ave Maria. But such was the state of my soul, that in losing
itself it lost also the sight of the dove. My spirit grew calm
with such a guest; and yet, as I think, a grace so wonderful
might have disturbed and frightened it; and as it began to
rejoice in the vision, it was delivered from all fear, and with
the joy came peace, my soul continuing entranced. The joy
of this rapture was exceedingly great ; and for the rest of
that festal time I was so amazed and bewildered that I
1 The Life of Christ, by Ludolf of Saxony.
302 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII.
did not know what I was doing, nor how I could have received
so great a grace. I neither heard nor saw any thing, so to
speak, because of my great inward joy. From that day forth
I perceived in myself a very great progress in the highest
love of God, together with a great increase in the strength
of my virtues. May He be blessed and praised for ever!
Amen.
14. On another occasion I saw that very dove above
the head of one of the Dominican fathers ; but it seemed to
'me that the rays and brightness of the wings were far greater.
I understood by this that he was to draw souls unto God.
15. At another time I saw our Lady putting a cope of
•exceeding whiteness on that Licentiate of the same Order,
of whom I have made mention more than once.1 She told
me that she gave him that cope in consideration of the service
he had rendered her by helping to found this house,2 that
it was a sign that she would preserve his soul pure for the
future, and that he should not fall into mortal sin. I hold
it for certain that so it came to pass, for he died within a
few years ; his death and the rest of his life were so penitential,
his whole life and death so holy, that, so far as any thing
can be known, there cannot be a doubt on the subject. One
of the friars present at his death told me that, before he
breathed his last, he. said to him that S. Thomas was with
him.3 He died in great joy, longing to depart out of this
land of exile.
16. Since then he has appeared to me more than once
in exceedingly great glory, and told me certain things. He
was so given to prayer, that when he was dying, and would
have interrupted it if he could because of his great weakness,
he was not able to do so ; for he was often in a trance. He
wrote to me not long before he died, and asked me what he
was to do; for as soon as he had said Mass he fell into a
trance, which lasted a long time, and which he could not
hinder. At last God gave him the reward of the many services
of his whole life.
1 F. Pedro Ibafiez. See ch. xxxiii. § 5, ch. xxxvi. § 23. "This
father died Prior of Trians," is written on the margin of the MS. by
F. Banes (De la Fuente).
2 S. Joseph, Avila, where S. Teresa was living at this time.
3 See below, § 41.
CH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 303
17. I had certain visions, too, of the great graces which
our Lord bestowed upon that rector of the Society of Jesus,
of whom I have spoken already more than once;1 but I will
not say any thing of them now, lest I should be too tedious.
It was his lot once to be in great trouble, to suffer great
persecution and distress. One day, when I was hearing
Mass, I saw Christ on the cross at the elevation of the Host.
He spoke certain words to me, which I was to repeat to that
father for his comfort, together with others, which were to
warn him beforehand of what was coming, and to remind
him of what He had suffered on his behalf, and that he must
prepare for suffering. This gave him great consolation and
courage; and every thing came to pass afterwards as our
Lord had told me.
18. I have seen great things of members of the Order
to which this father belongs, which is the Society of Jesus, and
of the whole Order itself; I have occasionally seen them in
heaven with white banners in their hands, and I have had
other most wonderful visions, as I am saying, about them, and
therefore have a great veneration for this Order; for I have
had a great deal to do with those who are of it, and I see
that their lives are conformed to that which our Lord gave
me to understand about them.
19. One night, when I was in prayer, our Lord spoke to
me certain words, whereby He made me remember the great
wickedness of my past life. They filled me with shame and
distress ; for though they were not spoken with severity, they
caused a feeling and a painfulness which were too much
for me : and we feel that we make greater progress in the
knowledge of ourselves when we hear one of these words,
than we can make by a meditation of many days on our
own misery, because these words impress the truth upon us
at the same time in such a way that we cannot resist it. He
set before me the former inclinations of my will to vanities,
and told me to make much of the desire I now had that my
will, which had been so ill employed, should be fixed on Him,
and that He would accept it.
1 F. Caspar de Salasar: see ch. xxxiii. § 10, ch. xxxiv. § 14. It
appears from the 179th letter of the Saint (lett. 20, vol. i. of the
Doblado edition), that F. Salasar was reported to his Provincial, F.
Juan Suarez, as having a desire to quit the Society for the Carmelite
Order.
304 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII.
20. On other occasions He told me to remember how
I used to think it an honourable thing to go against His
honour; and, again, to remember my debt to Him, for when
I was most rebellious He was bestowing His graces upon
me. If I am doing any thing wrong — and my wrong-doings
are many — His Majesty makes me see it in such a way that
I am utterly confounded; and as I do so often, that happens
often also. I have been found fault with by my confessors
occasionally ; and on betaking myself to prayer for consola
tion, have received a real reprimand.
21. To return to what I was speaking of. When our
Lord made me remember my wicked life, I wept; for as I
considered that I had then never done any good, I thought
He might be about to bestow upon me some special grace ;
because most frequently, when I receive any particular mercy
from our Lord, it is when I have been previously greatly
humiliated, in order that I may the more clearly see how
far I am from deserving it. I think our Lord must do it
for that end.
22. Almost immediately after this I was so raised up in
spirit that I thought myself to be, as it were, out of the body ;
at least, I did not know that I was living in it.1 I had a
vision of the most Sacred Humanity in exceeding glory,
greater than I had ever seen It in before. I beheld It in a
wonderful and clear way in the bosom of the Father. I
cannot tell how it was, for I saw myself, without seeing, as
it seemed to me, in the presence of God. My amazement was
such that I remained, as I believe, some days before I could
recover myself. I had continually before me, as present, the
Majesty of the Son of God, though not so distinctly as in the
vision. I understood this well enough; but the vision re
mained so impressed on my imagination, that I could not get
rid of it for some time, though it had lasted but a moment;
it is a great comfort to me, and also a great blessing.
23. I have had this vision on three other occasions, and
it is, I think, the highest vision of all the visions which our
Lord in His mercy showed me. The fruits of it are the very
greatest, for it seems to purify the soul in a wonderful way,
and destroy, as it were utterly, altogether the strength of
our sensual nature. It is a grand flame of fire, which seems
to burn up and annihilate all the desires of this life. For
1 2 Cor. xii. 2.
CH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 305
though now — glory be to God ! — I had no desire after vanities,
I saw clearly in the vision how all things are vanity, and how
hollow are all the dignities of earth ; it was a great lesson,
teaching me to raise up my desires to the Truth alone. It
impresses on the soul a sense of the presence of God such
as I cannot in any way describe, only it is very different
from that which it is in our own power to acquire on earth. It
fills the soul with profound astonishment at its own daring,
and at any one else being able to dare to offend His most
awful Majesty.
24. I must have spoken now and then of the effects
of visions/ and of other matters of the same kind, and I have
already said that the blessings they bring with them are of
various degrees ; but those of this vision are the highest of
all. When I went to Communion once I "called to mind the
exceeding great majesty of Him I had seen, and considered
that it was He who is present in the most Holy Sacrament,
and very often our Lord was pleased to show Himself to me
in the Host ; the very hairs on my head stood,2 and I thought
I should come to nothing.
25. O my Lord ! ah, if Thou didst not throw a veil over
Thy greatness, who would dare, being so foul and miserable,
to come in contact with Thy great Majesty? Blessed be
Thou, O Lord ; may the angels and all creation praise Thee,
who orderest all things according to the measure of our
weakness, so that, when we have the fruition of Thy sover
eign mercies, Thy great power may not terrify us, so that
we dare not, being a frail and miserable race, persevere in that
fruition !
26. It might happen to us as it did to the labourer —
I know it to be a certain fact — who found a treasure beyond
his expectations, which were mean. When he saw himself
in possession of it, he was seized with melancholy, which by
degrees brought him to his grave through simple distress
and anxiety of mind, because he did not know what to do
with his treasure. If he had not found it all at once, and if
others had given him portions of it by degrees, maintaining
him thereby, he might have been more happy than he had
been in his poverty, nor would it have cost him his life.
27. O Thou Treasure of the poor ! how marvelously Thou
sustainest souls, showing to them, not all at once, but by little
1 See ch. xxviii. 2 Job. iv. 15.
306 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII.
and little the abundance of Thy riches ! When I behold Thy
great Majesty hidden beneath that which is so slight as the
Host is, I am filled with wonder, ever since that vision, at
Thy great wisdom ; and I know not how it is that our Lord
gives me the strength and courage necessary to draw near
to Him, were it not that He who has had such compassion
on me, and still has, gives me strength, nor would it be
possible for me to be silent, or refrain from making known
marvels so great.
28. What must be the thoughts of a wretched person
such as I am, full of abominations, and who has spent her
life with so little fear of God, when she draws near to our
Lord's great Majesty, at the moment He is pleased to show
Himself to my soul? How can I open my mouth, that has
uttered so many words against Him, to receive that most
glorious Body, purity and compassion itself? The love that
is visible in His most beautiful Face, sweet and tender, pains
and distresses the soul, because it has not served Him, more
than all the terrors of His Majesty. What should have been
my thoughts, then, on those two occasions when I saw what
I have described? Truly, O my Lord and my joy, I am going
to say that in some way, in these great afflictions of my soul,
I have done something in Thy service. Ah ! I know not
what I am saying, for I am writing this as if the words were
not mine,1 because I am troubled, and in some measure
beside myself, when I call these things to remembrance. If
these thoughts were really mine, I might well say that I
had done something for Thee, O my Lord ; but as I can have
no good thought if Thou givest it not, no thanks are due
to me ; I am the debtor, O Lord, and it is Thou who art the
offended One.
29. Once, when I was going to Communion, I saw with
the eyes of the soul, more distinctly than with those of the
body, two devils of most hideous shape ; their horns seemed
to encompass the throat of the poor priest ; and I beheld
my Lord, in that great majesty of which I have spoken,2
held in the hands of that priest, in the Host he was about
to give me. It was plain that those hands were those of a
1 The biographers of the Saint say that she often found, on
returning from an ecstasy, certain passages written, but not by herself:
this seems to be alluded to here (De la Fuente},
2 8 77
CH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 307
sinner, and I felt that the soul of that priest was in mortal
sin. What must it be, O my Lord, to look upon Thy beauty
amid shapes so hideous ! The two devils were so frightened
and cowed in Thy presence, that they seemed as if they would
have willingly run away, hadst Thou but given them leave.
So troubled was I by the vision, that I knew not how I could
go to Communion. I was also in great fear, for I thought
if the vision was from God, that His Majesty would not have
allowed me to see the evil state of that soul.1
30. Our Lord Himself told me to pray for that priest;
that He had allowed this in order that I might understand
the power of the words of consecration, and how God failed
not to be present, however wicked the priest might be who
uttered them ; and that I might see His great goodness in that
He left Himself in the very hands of His enemy, for my
good and for the good of all. I understood clearly how the
priests are under greater obligations to be holy than other
persons; and what a horrible thing it is to receive this most
Holy Sacrament unworthily, and how great is the devil's
dominion over a soul in mortal sin. It did me a great service,
and made me fully understand what I owe to God. May He
be blessed for evermore !
31. At another time I had a vision of a different kind,
which frightened me very much. I was in a place where a
certain person died, who, as I understood, had led a very
bad life, and that for many years. But he had been ill for
two years, and in some respects seemed to have reformed.
He died without confession ; nevertheless, I did not think
he would be dammed. When the body had been wrapped in
the winding-sheet, I saw it laid hold of by a multitude of
devils, who seemed to toss it to and fro, and also to treat it
with great cruelty. I was terrified at the sight, for they
dragged it about with great hooks. But when I saw it carried
to the grave with all the respect and ceremoniousness common
to all, I began to think of the goodness of God, who would not
allow that person to be dishonoured, but would have the fact
of his being His enemy concealed.
32. I was almost out of my senses at the sight. During
the whole of the funeral service, I did not see one of the evil
spirits. Afterwards, when the body was about to be laid
1 S. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch. xxvi.
vol. i. p. 183.
308 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII.
in the grave, so great a multitude of them was therein waiting
to receive it, that I was beside myself at the sight, and it
required no slight courage on my part not to betray mv
distress. I thought of the treatment which that soul would
receive, when the devils had such power over the wretched
body. Would to God that all who live in mortal sin might
see what I then saw, — it was a fearful sight; it would go, I
believe, a great way towards making them lead better lives.
33. All this made me know more of what I owe to God,
and of the evil from which He has delivered me. I was in
great terror. I spoke of it to my confessor, and I thought it
might be an illusion of Satan, in order to take away my good
opinion of that person, who yet was not accounted a very
good Christian. The truth is, that, whether it was an illusion
or not, it makes me afraid whenever I think of it.
34. Now that I have begun to speak of the visions I had
concerning the dead, I will mention some matters which our
Lord was pleased to reveal to me in relation to certain souls.
I will confine myself to a few for the sake of brevity, and
because they are not necessary ; I mean that they are not
for our profit. They told me that one who had been our
Provincial — he was then of another province — was dead. He
was a man of great virtue, with whom I had had a good deal
to do, and to whom I was under many obligations for certain
kindnesses shown me. When I heard that he was dead, I
was exceedingly troubled, because I trembled for his salvation,
seeing that he had been superior for twenty years. That is
what I dread very much ; for the cure of souls seems to me
to be full of danger. I went to an oratory in great distress,
and gave up to him all the good I had ever done in my whole
life, — it was little enough, — and prayed our Lord that His
merits might fill up what, was wanting, in order that this
soul might be delivered from purgatory.
35. While I was thus praying to our Lord as well as I
could, he seemed to me to rise up from the depths of the
earth on my right hand, and I saw him ascend to heaven
in exceeding great joy. He was a very old man then, but
I saw him as if he were only thirty years old, and I thought
even younger, and there was a brightness in his face. This
vision passed away very quickly ; but I was so exceedingly
comforted by it, that I could never again mourn his death,
although many persons were distressed at it, for he was very
CH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 309
much beloved. So greatly comforted was my soul, that
nothing disturbed it, neither could I doubt the truth of the
vision ; I mean that it was no illusion.
36. I had this vision about a fortnight after he was dead ;
nevertheless, I did not omit to obtain prayers for him, and
I prayed myself, only I could not pray with the same earnest
ness that I should have done if I had not seen that vision.
For when our Lord showed him thus to me, it seemed to me
afterwards, when I prayed for him to His Majesty, — and I
could not help it, — that I was like one who gave alms to a
rich man. Later on I heard an account of the death he died
in our Lord — he was far away from here ; it was one of such
great edification, that he left all wondering to see how recol
lected, how penitent, and how humble he was when he died.
37. A nun, who was a great servant of God, died in
this house. On the next day one of the sisters was reciting
the lesson in the Office of the Dead, which was said in choir
for that nun's soul, and I was standing myself to assist her
in singing the versicle, when, in the middle of the lesson, I
saw the departed nun, as I believe, in a vision ; her soul
seemed to rise on my right hand like the soul of the Pro
vincial, and ascend to heaven. This vision was not imaginary,
like the preceding, but like those others of which I have
spoken before j1 it is not less certain, however, than the other
visions I had.
38. Another nun died in this same house of mine; she
was about eighteen or twenty years of age, and had always
been sickly. She was a great servant of God, attentive in
choir, and a person of great virtue. I certainly thought that
she would not go to purgatory, on account of her exceeding
merits, because the infirmities under which she had laboured
were many. While I was saying the Office, before she was
buried, — she had been dead about four hours, — I saw her rise
in the same place and ascend to heaven.
39. I was once in one of the colleges of the Society of
Jesus, and in one of those great sufferings which, as I have
said,2 I occasionally had, and still have, both in soul and
body, and then so grievously that I was not able, as it seemed
to me, to have even one good thought. The night before,
one of the brothers of that house had died in it ; and I, as
well as I could, was commending his soul to God, and hearing
1 See ch. xxvii. 3 Ch. xxx. § 9.
310 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX,
the Mass which another father of that Society was saying
for him, when I became recollected at once, and saw him go
up to heaven in great glory, and our Lord with him. I under
stood that His Majesty went writh him by way of special
grace.
40. Another brother of our Order, a good friar, was very
ill; and when I was at Mass, I became recollected, and saw
him dead, entering into heaven without going through purga
tory. He died, as I afterwards learned, at the very time of
my vision. I was amazed that he had not gone to purgatory.
I understood that, having become a friar and carefully kept
the rule, the Bulls of the Order had been of use to him, so that
he did not pass into purgatory. I do not know why I came
to have this revealed to me ; I think it must be because I
was to learn that it is not enough for a man to be a friar in
his habit — I mean, to wear the habit — to attain to that state
of high perfecion which that of a friar is.
41. I will speak no more of these things, because, as I
have just said,1 there is no necessity for it, though our Lord
has been so gracious to me as to show me much. But in all
the visions I had, I saw no souls escape purgatory except this
Carmelite father, the holy friar Peter of Alcantara, and that
Dominican father of whom I spoke before.2 It pleased our
Lord to let me see the degree of glory to which some souls
have been raised, showing them to me in the places they
occupy. There is a great difference between one place and
another.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
OTHER GRACES BESTOWED ON THE SAINT THE PROMISES OF OUR
LORD TO HER DIVINE LOCUTIONS AND VISIONS.
1. I WAS once importuning our Lord exceedingly to restore
the sight of a person who had claims upon me, and who was
almost wholly blind. I was very sorry for him, and afraid our
Lord would not hear me because of my sins. He appeared
to me as at other times, and began to show the wound in His
left hand ; with the other He drew out the great nail that was
1 § 34. 2 § 15. Fr. Pedro Ibanez.
TENTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OP
Hye'Hoys del.
1. Francisco Velasquez, from his tombstone in the Carmelite monastery
church. 2. St. Andrew's well, which Teresa Layz saw in a vision. 3. Convent of
the Tertiaries of St. Francis, where St. Teresa received hospitality. 4. Monastery
of Discalced Carmelites with the additions made in 1688. 5. Carmelite monastery
seen from the rear, from the banks of the Tormes. 6. Ruins of the castle of the
Dukes of Alba, where St. Teresa passed two days in 1574. 7. Original tomb of St.
Teresa, made in the wall, between the church and the nuns' choir. 8. Heart of
THE INCARNATION AT ALBA DE TORMES.
XVI.
Bru6es. P Raoux Sc
St. Teresa as seen in 1866. 9. Tomb of Juan tie Ovalle y (.iodiiicz, of his wife Juaiia
de Ahumatla, and of their son Gionsalo. 10. Tomb of the founders, Francisco
Velasquez and Teresa Layz. 11. 3lonastery of the Uisealcecl Carmelite Friars.
12. Arms of Francisco Velasquez. 13. Anns of Teresa Lay*. 14. Arms of Maria
Unriquez, Duchess of Alba, St. Teresa's friend. 15. Arms of the city of Alba, since
it became a fief of the de Toledo family in the XV. century. (See Appendix, note 17.)
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 311
in it, and it seemed to me that, in drawing the nail, He tore
the flesh. The greatness of the pain was manifest, and I was
very much distressed thereat. He said to me, that He who
had borne that for my sake would still more readily grant
what I asked Him, and that I was not to have any doubts
about it. He promised me there was nothing I should ask
that He would not grant ; that He knew I should ask nothing
that was not for His glory, and that He would grant me what
I was now praying for. Even during the time when I did
not serve Him, I should find, if I considered it, I had asked
nothing that He had not granted in an ampler manner than
I had known how to ask; how much more amply still would
He grant what I asked for, now that He knew I loved Him !
I was not to doubt. I do not think that eight days passed
before our Lord restored that person to sight. My confessor
knew it forthwith. It might be that it was not owing to
my prayer; but, as I had had the vision, I have a certain
conviction that it was a grace accorded to me. I gave thanks
to His Majesty.
2. Again, a person was exceedingly ill of a most painful
disease ; but, as I do not know what it was, I do not describe
it by its name here. What he had gone through for two
months was beyond all endurance; and his pain was so great
that he tore his own flesh. My confessor, the rector of whom
I have spoken,1 went to see him; he was very sorry for him,
and told me that I must anyhow go myself and visit him;
he was one whom I might visit, for he was my kinsman. I
went, and was moved to such a tender compassion for him
that I began, with the utmost importunity, to ask our Lord
to restore him to health. Herein I saw clearly how gracious
our Lord was to me, so far as I could judge; for immediately,
the next day, he was completely rid of that pain.
3. I was once in the deepest distress, because I knew
that a person to whom I was under great obligations was
about to commit an act highly offensive to God and dis
honourable to himself. He was determined upon it. I was
so much harassed by this that I did not know what to do in
order to change his purpose ; and it seemed to me as if nothing
could be done. T implored God, from the bottom of my heart.
to find a way to hinder it ; but till I found it I could find no
relief for the pain I felt. In my distress, I went to a very
1 Ch. xxxiii. § 10. F. Gasper de Salazar.
312 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX.
lonely hermitage, — one of those belonging to this monastery,
• — in which there is a picture of Christ bound to the pillar;
and there, as I was imploring our Lord to grant me this
grace, I heard a voice of exceeding gentleness, speaking, as it
were, in a whisper.1 My whole body trembled, for it made me
afraid. I wished to understand what was said, but I could not,
for it all passed away in a moment.
4. When my fears had subsided, and that was imme
diately, I became conscious of an inward calmness, a joy
and delight, which made me marvel how the mere hearing
a voice, — I heard it with my bodily ears, — without under
standing a word, could have such an effect on the soul. I
saw by this that my prayer was granted, and so it was ;
and I was freed from my anxieties about a matter not yet
accomplished, as it afterwards was, as completely as if I
saw it done. I told my confessors of it, for I had two at this
time, both of them learned men, and great servants of God.
5. I knew of a person who had resolved to serve God
in all earnestness, and had for some days given himself to
prayer, in which he had received many graces from our Lord,
but who had abandoned his good resolutions because of certain
occasions of sin in which he was involved, and which he
would not avoid; they were extremely perilous. This caused
me the utmost distress, because the person was one for whom
I had a great affection, and one to whom I owed much. For
more than a month I believe I did nothing else but pray to
God for his conversion. One day, when I was in prayer,
I saw a devil close by in a great rage, tearing to pieces some
paper which he had in his hands. That sight consoled me
greatly, because it seemed that my prayer had been heard.
So it was, as I learnt afterwards ; for that person had made
his confession with great contrition, and returned to God so
sincerely, that I trust in His Majesty he will always advance
further and further. May He be blessed for ever! Amen.
6. In answer to my prayers, our Lord has very often
rescued souls from mortal sins, and led others on to greater
perfection. But as to the delivering of souls out of purga
tory, and other remarkable acts, so many are the mercies of
our Lord herein, that were I to speak of them I should only
weary myself and my reader. But He has done more by me
for the salvation of souls than for the health of the body.
1 3 Kings xix. 12.
CH. XXXIX. ] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 313
This is very well known, and there are many to bear witness
to it.
7. At first it made me scrupulous, because I could not
help thinking that our Lord did these things in answer to
my prayer; I say nothing of the chief reason of all — His pure
compassion. But now these graces are so many, and so well
known to others, that it gives me no pain to think so. I
bless His Majesty, and abase myself, because I am still
more deeply in His debt; and I believe that He makes my
desire to serve Him grow, and my love revive.
8. But what amazes me most is this : however much I
may wish to pray for those graces which our Lord sees not
to be expedient, I cannot do it; and if I try, I do so with
little earnestness, force, and spirit: it is impossible to do more,
even if I would. But it is not so as to those which His
Majesty intends to grant. These I can pray for constantly,
and with great importunity ; though I do not carry them in
my memory, they seem to present themselves to me at once.1
9. There is a great difference between these two ways of
praying, and I know not how to explain it. As to the first,
when I pray for those graces which our Lord does not mean
to grant, — even though they concern me very nearly, — I am
like one whose tongue is tied ; who, though he would speak,
yet cannot; or, if he speaks, sees that people do not listen
to him. And yet I do not fail to force myself to pray, though
not conscious of that fervour which I have when praying
for those graces which our Lord intends to give. In the
second case, I am like one who speaks clearly and intelligibly
to another, whom he sees to be a willing listener.
10. The prayer that is not to be heard is, so to speak,
like vocal prayer ; the other is a prayer of contemplation so
high that our Lord shows Himself in such a way as to make
us feel He hears us, and that He delights in our prayer, and
that He is about to grant our petition. Blessed be He for ever
who gives me so much, and to whom I give so little ! For
what is he worth, O my Lord, who does not utterly abase
himself to nothing for Thee? How much, how much, how
much, — I might say so a thousand times, — I fall short of
this! It is on this account that I do not wish to live,- -
though there be other reasons also, — because I do not live
according to the obligations which bind me to Thee. What
1 See S. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk. iii. ch. i.
314 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX.
imperfections I trace in myself ! what remissness in Thy serv
ice ! Certainly, I could wish occasionally I had no sense,
that I might be unconscious of the great evil that is in me.
May He who can do all things help me !
11. When I was staying in the house of that lady of
whom I have spoken before,1 it was necessary for me to be
very watchful over myself, and keep continually in mind the
intrinsic vanity of all the things of this life, because of the
great esteem I was held in, and of the praises bestowed on
me. There was much there to which I might have become
attached, if I had looked only to myself; but I looked to
Him who sees things as they really are, not to let me go out of
His hand. Now that I speak of seeing things as they really
are, I remember how great a trial it is for those to whom God
has granted a true insight into the things of earth to have
to discuss them with others. They wear so many disguises,
as our Lord once told me, — and much of what I am saying
of them is not from myself, but rather what my heavenly
Master has taught me; and therefore, in speaking of them,
when I say distinctly I understood this, or our Lord told me
this, I am very scrupulous neither to add nor to take awray
one single syllable ; so, when I do not clearly remember every
thing exactly, that must be taken as coming from myself, and
some things, perhaps, are so altogether. I do not call mine
that which is good, for I know there is no other good in me
but only that which our Lord gave me when I was so far from
deserving it: I call that mine which I speak without having
had it made known to me by revelation.
12. But, O my God, how is it that we too often judge
even spiritual things, as we do those of the world, by our own
understanding, wresting them grievously from their true
meaning? We think we may measure our progress by the
years which we have given to the exercise of prayer ; we
even think we can prescribe limits to Him who bestows His
gifts not by measure2 when He wills, and who in six months
can give to one more than to another in many years. This
is a fact which I have so frequently observed in many per
sons, that I am surprised how any of us can deny it.
13. I am certainly convinced that he will not remain
under this delusion who possesses the gift of discerning
1 Ch. xxxiv. § 1. 2 S. John iii. 34.
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 315
spirits, and to whom our Lord has given real humility ; for
such a one will judge of them by the fruits, by the good
resolutions and love, — and our Lord gives him light to under
stand the matter; and herein He regards the progress and
advancement of souls, not the years they may have spent
in prayer ; for one person may make greater progress in six
months than another in twenty years, because, as I said before,
our Lord gives to whom He will, particularly to him who
is best disposed.
14. I see this in certain persons of tender years who have
come to this monastery, — God touches their hearts, 'and gives
them a little light and love. I speak of that brief interval
in which He gives them sweetness in prayer, and then they
wait for nothing further, and make light of every diffi
culty, forgetting the necessity even of food ; for they shut
themselves up for ever in a house that is unendowed, as
persons who make no account of their life, for His sake, who,
they know, loves them. They give up every thing, even their
own will ; and it never enters into their mind that they might
be discontented in so small a house, and where enclosure is
so strictly observed. They offer themselves wholly in sacri
fice to God.
15. Oh, how willingly do I admit that they are better
than I am ! and how I ought to be ashamed of myself before
God! What His Majesty has not been able to accomplish
in me in so many years, — it is long ago since I began to
pray, and He to bestow His, graces upon me, — He accom
plished in them in three months, and in some of them even in
three days, though He gives them much fewer graces than
He gave to me: and yet His Majesty rewards them well;
most assuredly they are not sorry for what they have done
for Him.
16. I wish, therefore, we reminded ourselves of those
long years which have gone by since we made our religious
profession. I say this to those persons, also, who have given
themselves long ago to prayer, but not for the purpose of
distressing those who in a short time have made greater
progress than we have made, by making them retrace their
steps, so that they may proceed only as we do ourselves. We
must not desire those who, because of the graces God has
given them, are flying like eagles to become like chickens
whose feet are tied. Let us rather look to His Majesty, and
316 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX.
give these souls the reins, if we see that they are humble ; for
our Lord, who has had such compassion upon them, will not
let them fall into the abyss.
17. These souls trust themselves in the hands of God, for
the truth, which they learn by faith, helps them to do it; and
shall not we also trust them to Him, without seeking to
measure them by our measure, which is that of our meanness
of spirit? We must not do it; for if we cannot ascend to the
heights of their great love and courage, — without experience
none can comprehend them, — let us humble ourselves, and
not condemn them; for, by this seemfng regard to their
progress, we hinder our own, and miss the opportunity our
Lord gives us to humble ourselves, to ascertain our own
shortcomings, and learn how much more detached and more
near to God these souls must be than we are, seeing that
His Majesty draws so near to them Himself.
18. I have no other intention here, and I wish to have
no other, than to express my preference for the prayer that
in a short time results in these great effects, which show
themselves at once ; for it is impossible they should enable
us to leave all things only to please God, if they were not
accompanied with a vehement love. I would rather have that
prayer than that which lasted many years, but which at the
end of the time, as well as at the beginning, never issued
in a resolution to do any thing for God, with the exception
of some trifling services, like a grain of salt, without weight
or bulk, and which a bird might carry away in its mouth.
Is it not a serious and mortifying thought that we are making
much of certain services which we render our Lord, but which
are too pitiable to be considered, even if they were many in
number? This is my case, and I am forgetting every moment
the mercies of our Lord. I do not mean that His Majesty
will not make much of them Himself, for He is good; but I
wish I made no account of them myself, or even perceived
that I did them, for they are nothing worth.
19. But, O my Lord, do Thou forgive me, and blame me
not, if I try to console myself a little with the little I do,
seeing that I do not serve Thee at all ; for if I rendered Thee
any great services, I should not think of these trifles. Blessed
are they who serve Thee in great deeds ; if envying these,
and desiring to do what they do, were of any help to me.
I should not be so far behind them as I am in pleasing Thee ;
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 317
but I am nothing worth, O my Lord; do Thou make me of
some worth, Thou who lovest me so much.
20. During one of those days, when this monastery,
which seems to have cost me some labour, was fully founded
by the arrival of the Brief from Rome, which empowered
us to live without an endowment;1 and I was comforting
myself at seeing the whole affair concluded, and thinking of all
the trouble I had had, and giving thanks to our Lord for
having been pleased to make some use of me, — it happened
that I began to consider all that we had gone through. Well,
so it was ; in every one of my actions, which I thought were
of some service, I traced so many faults and imperfections,
now and then but little courage, very frequently a want of
faith; for until this moment, when I see every thing accom
plished, I never absolutely believed ; neither, however, on
the other hand, could I doubt what our Lord said to me about
the foundation of this house. I cannot tell how it was; very
often the matter seemed to me, on the one hand, impossible;
and, on the other hand, I could not be in doubt : I mean, I
could not believe that it would not be accomplished. In short,
1 find that our Lord Himself, on His part, did all the good that
was done, while I did all the evil. I therefore ceased to think
of the matter, and wished never to be reminded of it again,
lest I should do myself some harm by dwelling on my many
faults. Blessed be He who, when He pleases, draws good out
of all my failings ! Amen.
21. I say, then, there is danger in counting the years
we have given to prayer; for, granting that there is nothing
in it against humility, it seems to me to imply something
like an appearance of thinking that we have merited, in some
degree, by the service rendered. I do not mean that there
is no merit in it at all, nor that it will not be well rewarded;
yet if any spiritual person thinks, because he has given himself
to prayer for many years, that he deserves any spiritual conso
lations, I am sure he will never attain to spiritual perfection.
Is it not enough that a man has merited the protection of
God, which keeps him from committing those sins into which
he fell before he began to pray, but he must also, as they say,
sue God for His own money?
22. This does not seem to me to be deep humility, and
yet it may be that it is ; however, I look on it as great bold-
1 See ch. xxxiii. § 14.
318 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX.
ness, for I, who have very little humility, have never ventured
upon it. It may be that I never asked for it, because I had
never served Him; perhaps, if I had served Him, I should
have been more importunate than all others with our Lord
for my reward.
23. I do not mean that the soul makes no progress in
time, or that God will not reward it, if its prayer has been
humble; but I do mean that we should forget the number
of years we have been praying, because all that we can do is
utterly worthless in comparison with one drop of blood out
of those which our Lord shed for us. And if the more we
serve Him, the more we become His debtors, what is it, then,
we are asking for? for, if we pay one farthing of the debt,
He gives us back a thousand ducats. For the love of God,
let us leave these questions alone, for they belong to Him.
Comparisons are always bad, even in earthly things; what,
then, must they be in that, the knowledge of which God has
reserved to Himself? His Majesty showed this clearly
enough, when those who came late and those who came early
to His vineyard received the same wages.1
24. I have sat down so often to write, and have been
so many days writing these three leaves, — for, as I have said,2
I had, and have still, but few opportunities, — that I forgot
what I had begun with, namely, the following vision.3
25. I was in prayer, and saw myself on a wide plain all
alone. Round about me stood a great multitude of all kinds
of people, who hemmed me in on every side ; all of them
seemed to have weapons of war in their hands, to hurt me :
some had spears, others swords ; some had daggers, and others
very long rapiers. In short, I could not move away in any
direction without exposing myself to the hazard of death, and
I was alone without any one to take my part. In this distress
of mind, not knowing what to do, I lifted up my eyes to
heaven, and saw Christ, not in heaven, but high above me in
the air, holding out His hand to me, and there protecting
me in such a way that I was no longer afraid of all that
1 S. Matt. xx. 9-14. 2 Ch. x. § 13.
8 The Saint had this vision when she was in the house of Dona
Luisa de la Cerda in Toledo, and it was fulfilled in the opposition
she met with in the foundation of S. Joseph of Avila. See ch. xxxvi.
§ 18.
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 319
multitude, neither could they, though they wished it, do me
any harm.
26. At first the vision seemed to have no results ; but
it has been of the greatest help to me, since I understood
what it meant. Not long afterwards, I saw myself, as it
were, exposed to the like assault, and I saw that the vision
represented the world, because every thing in it takes up
arms against the poor soul. We need not speak of those
who are not great servants of our Lord, nor of honours,
possessions, and pleasures, with other things of the same
nature ; for it is clear that the soul, if it be not watchful, will
find itself caught in a net, — at least, all these things labour to
ensnare it ; more than this, so also do friends and relatives,
and — what frightens me most — even good people. I found
myself afterwards so beset on all sides, good people thinking
they were doing good, and I knowing not how to defend my
self nor what to do.
27. O my God, if I were to say in what way, and in
how many ways, I was tried at that time, even after that
trial of which I have just spoken, what a warning I should
be giving to men to hate the whole world utterly! It was
the greatest of all the persecutions I had to undergo. I saw
myself occasionally so hemmed in on every side, that I could
do nothing else but lift up my eyes to heaven, and cry unto
God.1 I recollected well what I had seen in the vision, and
it helped me greatly not to trust much in any one, for there
is no one that can be relied on -except God. In all my great
trials, our Lord — He showed it to me — sent always some one
on His part to hold out his hand to help me, as it was shown
to me in the vision, so that I might attach myself to nothing,
but only please our Lord; and this has been enough to sus
tain the little virtue I have in desiring to serve Thee: be
Thou blessed for evermore !
28. On one occasion I was exceedingly disquieted and
troubled, unable to recollect myself, fighting and struggling
with my thoughts, running upon matters which did not relate
to perfection ; and, moreover, I did not think I was so de
tached from all things as I used to be. When I found my
self in this wretched state, I was afraid that the graces I
had received from our Lord were illusions, and the end was
that a great darkness covered my soul. In this my distress
1 2 Paralip. xx. 12.
320 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX.
our Lord began to speak to me : He bade me not to harass
myself, but learn, from the consideration of my misery, what
it would be if He withdrew Himself from me, and that we
were never safe while living in the flesh. It was given me
to understand how this fighting and struggling are profitable
to us, because of the reward, and it seemed to me as if our
Lord were sorry for us who live in the world. Moreover,
He bade me not to suppose that He had forgotten me; He
would never abandon me, but it was necessary I should do all
that I could myself.
29. Our Lord said all this with great tenderness and
sweetness ; He also spoke other most gracious words, which
I need not repeat. His Majesty, further showing His great
love for me, said to me very often : "Thou art Mine, and I
am thine." I am in the habit of saying myself, and I believe
in all sincerity: "What do I care for myself? — I care only for
Thee, O my Lord."
30. These words of our Lord, and the consolations He
gives me, fill me with the utmost shame, when I remember
what I am. I have said it before, I think,1 and I still say now
and then to my confessor, that it requires greater courage
to receive these graces than to endure the heaviest trials.
When they come, I forget, as it were, all I have done, and
there is nothing before me but a picture of my wretchedness,
and my understanding can make no reflections; this, also,
seems to me at times to be supernatural.
31. Sometimes I have such a vehement longing for Com
munion; I do not think it can be expressed. One morning
it happened to rain so much as to make it seem impossible to
leave the house. When I had gone out, I was so beside myself
with that longing, that if spears had been pointed at my heart,
I should have rushed upon them ; the rain was nothing. When
I entered the church, I fell into a deep trance, and saw
heaven open — not a door only, as I used to see at other times.
I beheld the throne which, as I have told you, my father, I
saw at other times, with another throne above it, whereon,
though I saw not, I understood by a certain inexplicable
knowledge that the Godhead dwelt.
32. The throne seemed to me to be supported by certain
animals; I believe I saw the form of them: I thought they
might be the Evangelists. But now the throne was arrayed,
1 Ch. xx. 8 4.
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 321
and Him who sat on it I did not see, but only an exceed
ingly great multitude of angels, who seemed to me more
beautiful, beyond all comparison, than those I had seen in
heaven. I thought they were, perhaps, the seraphim or cher
ubim, for they were very different in their glory, and seem
ingly all on fire. The difference is great, as I said before;1
and the joy I then felt cannot be described, either in writing
or by word or mouth ; it is inconceivable to any one who has
not had experience of it. I felt that every thing man can
desire was all there together, and I saw nothing; they told
me, but I know not who, that all I could do there was to
understand that I could understand nothing, and see how
every thing was nothing in comparison with that. So it was ;
my soul afterwards was vexed to see that it could rest on
any created thing: how much more, then, if it had any affec
tion thereto; for every thing seemed to me but an ant-hill.
I communicated, and remained during Mass. I know not
how it was: I thought I had been but a few minutes, and
was amazed when the clock struck; I had been two hours
in that trance and joy.
33. I was afterwards amazed at this fire, which seems
to spring forth out of the true love of God; for though I
might long for it, labour for it, and annihilate myself in the
effort to obtain it, I can do nothing towards procuring a
single spark of it myself, because it all comes of the good
pleasure of His Majesty, as I said on another occasion.2 It
seems to burn up the old man, with his faults, his lukewarm-
ness, and misery; so that it is like the phoenix, of which I
have read that it comes forth, after being burnt, out of its
own ashes into a new life. Thus it is with the soul: it is
changed into another, whose desires are different, and whose
strength is great. It seems to be no longer what it was before,
and begins to walk renewed in purity in the ways of our Lord.
When I was praying to Him that thus it might be with me,
and that I might begin His services anew, He said to me : "The
comparison thou hast made is good ; take care never to forget
it, that thou mayest always labour to advance."
34. Once, when I was doubting, as I said just now,3
whether these visions came from God or not, our Lord ap
peared, and, with some severity, said to me : "O children of
men, how long will you remain hard of heart !" I wras to
1 Ch. xxix. § 16. 2 Ch. xxix. § 11. 3 § 28.
322 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX.
examine myself carefully on one subject, — whether I had
given myself up wholly to Him, or not. If I had, — and it
was so, — I was to believe that He would not suffer me to
perish. I was very much afflicted when He spoke thus, but
He turned to me with great tenderness and sweetness, and
bade me not to distress myself, for He knew already that,
so far as it lay in my power, I would not fail in any thing that
was for His service ; that He himself would do what I wished,
— and so He did grant what I was then praying for; that I
was to consider my love for Him, which was daily growing
in me, for I should see by this that these visions did not
come from Satan ; that I must not imagine that God would
ever allow the devil to have so much power over the souls
of His servants as to give them such clearness of under
standing and such peace as I had.
35. He gave me also to understand that, when such and
so many persons had told me the visions were from God, I
should do wrong if I did not believe them.1
36. Once, when I was reciting the psalm Quicunque vult?
I was given to understand the mystery of One God and Three
Persons with so much clearness, that I was greatly aston
ished and consoled at the same time. This was of the greatest
help to me, for it enabled me to know more of the greatness
and marvels of God ; and when I think of the most Holy
Trinity, or hear It spoken of, I seem to understand the mys
tery, and a great joy it is.
37. One day — it was the Feast of the Assumption of
the Queen of the Angels, and our Lady — our Lord was pleased
to grant me this grace. In a trance He made me behold
her going up to heaven, the joy and solemnity of her recep
tion there, as well as the place where she now is. To de
scribe it is more than I can do; the joy that filled my soul
at the sight of such great glory was excessive. The effects
of the vision were great; it made me long to endure still
greater trials: and I had a vehement desire to serve our
Lady, because of her great merits.
38. Once, in one of the colleges of the Society of Jesus,
when the brothers of the house were communicating, I saw
an exceedingly rich canopy above their heads. I saw this
1 See ch. xxviii. §§ 19, 20.
2 Commonly called the Creed of S. Athanasius.
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 323
twice; but I never saw it when others were receiving Com
munion.
CHAPTER XL.
VISIONS, REVELATIONS, AND LOCUTIONS.
1. ONE day, in prayer, the sweetness of which was so
great that, knowing how unworthy I was of so great a bless
ing, I began to think how much I had deserved to be in
that place which I had seen prepared for me in hell,— for, as
I said before,1 I never forget the way I saw myself there,
— as I was thinking of this, my soul began to be more and
more on fire, and I was carried away in spirit in a way I
cannot describe. It seemed to me as if I had been absorbed
in, and filled with, that grandeur of God which, on another
occasion, I had felt.2 In that majesty it was given me to
understand one truth, which is the fulness of all truth, but
I cannot tell how, for I saw nothing. It was said to me,
I saw not by whom, but I knew well enough it was the Truth
Itself: "This I am doing to thee is not a slight matter; it is
one of those things for which thou owest Me much ; for all the
evil in the world comes from ignorance of the truths of the
holy writings in their clear simplicity, of which not one iota
shall pass away."3 I thought that I had always believed this,
and that all the faithful also believe it. Then He said; "Ah,
My daughter, they are few who love Me in truth ; for if men
loved Me, I should not hide My secrets from them. Knowest
thou what it is to love Me in truth? It is to admit every
thing to be a lie which is not pleasing unto Me. Now thou
dost not understand it, but thou shalt understand it clearly
hereafter, in the profit it will be to thy soul."
2. Our Lord be praised, so I found it; for after this
vision I look upon every thing which does not tend to the
service of God as vanity and lies. I cannot tell how much
I am convinced of this, nor how sorry I am for those whom
I see living in darkness, not knowing the truth. I derived
other great blessings also from this, some of which I will
here speak of, others I cannot describe.
1 Ch. xxxii. § 1. 2 Ch. xxviii. § 14. 3 S. Matt. v. 18.
324 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XL.
3. Our Lord at the same time uttered a special word
of most exceeding graciousness. I know not how it was done,
for I saw nothing; but I was filled, in a way which also I
cannot describe, with exceeding strength and earnestness of
purpose to observe with all my might every thing contained
in the divine writings. I thought that I could rise above
every possible hindrance put in my way.
4. Of this divine truth, which was put before me I know
not how, there remains imprinted within me a truth — I cannot
give it a name — which fills me with a new reverence for God ;
it gives me a notion of His majesty and power in a way
which I cannot explain. I can understand that it is some
thing very high. I had a very great desire never to speak of
any thing but of those deep truths which far surpass all
that is spoken of here in the world, — and so the living in it
began to be painful to me.
5. The vision left me in great tenderness, joy, and hu
mility. It seemed to me, though I knew not how, that our
Lord now gave me great things; and I had no suspicion
whatever of any illusion. I saw nothing ; but I understood
how great a blessing it is to make no account of any thing
which does not lead us nearer unto God. I also understood
what it is for a soul to be walking in the truth, in the presence
of the Truth itself. What I understand is this : that our
Lord gave me to understand that He is Himself the very
Truth.
6. All this I am speaking of I learnt at times by means
of words uttered ; at other times I learnt some things without
the help of words, and that more clearly than those other
things which were told me in words. I understood exceed
ingly deep truths concerning the Truth, more than I could
have done through the teaching of many learned men. It
seems to me that learned men never could have thus im
pressed upon me, nor so clearly explained to me, the vanity
of this world.
7. The Truth of which I am speaking, and which I was
given to see, is Truth Itself, in Itself. It has neither beginning
nor end. All other truths depend on this Truth, as all other
loves depend on this Love, and all other grandeurs on this
Grandeur. I understood it all, notwithstanding that my words
are obscure in comparison with that distinctness with which
it pleased our Lord to show it to me. What think you must
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 325
be the power of His Majesty, seeing that in so short a time
it leaves so great a blessing and such an impression on the
soul? O Grandeur! Majesty of mine! what is it Thou art
doing, O my Lord Almighty! Consider who it is to whom
Thou givest blessings so great! Dost Thou not remember
that this my soul has been an abyss of lies and a sea of
vanities, and all my fault? Though Thou hadst given me a
natural hatred of lying, yet I did involve myself in main-
lying ways. How is this, O my God? how can it be that
mercies and graces so great should fall to the lot of one who
has so ill deserved them at Thy hands?
8. Once, when I was with the whole community reciting
the Office, my soul became suddenly recollected, and seemed
to me all bright as a mirror, clear behind, sideways, upwards,
and downwards; and in the centre of it I saw Christ our
Lord, as I usually see Him. It seemed to me that I saw Him
distinctly in every part of my soul, as in a mirror, and at the
same time the mirror was all sculptured — I cannot explain
it — in our Lord Himself by a most loving communication
which I can never describe. I know that this vision was a
great blessing to me, and is still whenever I remember it,
particularly after Communion.
9. I understood by it, that, when a soul is in mortal sin,
this mirror becomes clouded with a thick vapour, and utterly
obscured, so that our Lord is neither visible nor present,
though He is always present in the conversation of its being.
In heretics, the mirror is, as it were, broken in pieces, and
that is worse than being dimmed. There is a very great
difference between seeing this and describing it, for it can
hardly be explained. But it has done me great good ; it has
also made me very sorry on account of those times when I
dimmed the lustre of my soul by my sins, so that I could not
see our Lord.
10. This vision seems to me very profitable to recollected
persons, to teach them to look upon our Lord as being in the
innermost part of their soul. It is a method of looking upon
Him which penetrates us more thoroughly, and is much more
fruitful, than that of looking upon Him as external to us,
as I have said elsewhere,1 and as it is laid down in books on
prayer, where they speak of where we are to seek God. The
1 Ch. iv. § 10.
326 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [dl. XL.
glorious S Augustin,1 in particular, says so, when he says
that neither in the streets of the city, nor in pleasures, nor in
any place whatever where he sought Him, did he find Him
as he found Him within himself. This is clearly the best
way; we need not go up to heaven, nor any further than
our own selves, for that would only distress the spirit and
distract the soul, and bring but little fruit.
11. I should like to point out one result of a deep trance ;
it may be that some are aware of it. When the time is over
during which the soul was in union, wherein all its powers
were wholly absorbed, — it lasts, as I have said,2 but a moment,
• — the soul continues still to be recollected, unable to recover
itself even in outward things ; for the two powers — the mem
ory and the understanding — are, as it were, in a frenzy,
extremely disordered. This, I say, happens occasionally, par
ticularly in the beginnings. I am thinking whether it does
not result from this : that our natural weakness cannot endure
the vehemence of the spirit, which is so great, and that the
imagination is enfeebled. I know it to be so with some.
I think it best for these to force themselves to give up prayer
at that time, and resume it afterwards, when they may re
cover what they have lost, and not do every thing at once,
for in that case much harm might come of it. I know this
by experience, as well as the necessity of considering what
our health can bear.
12. Experience is necessary throughout, so also is a
spiritual director; for when the soul has reached this point,
there are many matters which must be referred to the di
rector. If, after seeking such a one, the soul cannot find
him, our Lord will not fail that soul, seeing that He has
not failed me, who am what I am. They are not many, I
believe, who know by experience so many things, and without
experience it is useless to treat a soul at all, for nothing
will come of it, save only trouble and distress. But our
Lord will take this also into account, and for that reason it
is always best to refer the matter to the director. I have
"Ecce quantum spatiatus sum in memoria mea quserens Te,
Domine; et non Te inveni extra earn.... Ex quo didici Te, manes in
memoria mea, et illic Te invenio cum reminiscor Tui et delector in
Te" (Confess, x. 24). See Way of Perfection, ch. xiv. § 1 ; but ch. xxviii.
of previous editions.
2 Ch. xx. § 26.
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 327
already more than once said this,1 and even all I am saying
now, only I do not distinctly remember it ; but I do see that it
is of great importance, particularly to women, that they should
go to their confessor, and that he should be a man of expe
rience herein. There are many more women than men to
whom our Lord gives these graces; I have heard the holy
friar Peter of Alcantara say so, and, indeed, I know it myself.
He used to say that women made greater progress in this way
than men did ; and he gave excellent reasons for his opinion,
all in favour of women ; but there is no necessity for repeating
them here.
13. Once, when in prayer, I had a vision, for a moment,
—I saw nothing distinctly, but the vision was most clear,
—how all things are seen in God, and how all things are
comprehended in Him. I cannot in any way explain it, but
the vision remains most deeply impressed on my soul, and
is one of those grand graces which our Lord wrought in
me, and one of those which put me to the greatest shame and
confusion whenever I call my sins to remembrance. I be
lieve, if it had pleased our Lord that I had seen this at an
earlier time, or if they saw it who sin against Him, we should
have neither the heart nor the daring to do so. I had the
vision, I repeat it, but I cannot say that I saw any thing;
however, I must have seen something, seeing that I explain it
by an illustration, only it must have been in a way so subtile
and delicate that the understanding is unable to reach it, or I
am so ignorant in all that relates to these visions, which seem
to be not imaginary. In some of these visions there must be
something imaginary, only, as the powers of the soul are then
in a trance, they are not able afterwards to retain the forms,
as our Lord showed them to it then, and as He would have it
rejoice in them.
14. Let us suppose the Godhead to be a most brilliant
diamond, much larger than the whole world, or a mirror
like that to which I compared the soul in a former vision,2
only in a way so high that I cannot possibly describe it;
and that all our actions are seen in that diamond, which is
of such dimensions as to include every thing, because nothing
1 Ch. xxv. § 18, ch. xxvi. § 6. See S. John of the Cross, Mount
Carmel, bk. ii. ch. xxii.
328 THE LIFE QF S. TERESA. [CH. XL.
can be beyond it. It was a fearful thirig for me to see, in
so short a time, so many things together in that brilliant
diamond, and a most piteous thing too, whenever I think of it,
to see such foul things as my sins present in the pure bril
liancy of that light.
15. So it is, whenever I remember it, I do not know
how to bear it, and I was then so ashamed of myself that
I knew not where to hide myself. Oh, that some one could
make this plain to those who commit most foul and filthy
sins, that they may remember their sins are not secret, and
that God most justly resents them, seeing that they are
wrought in the very presence of His Majesty, and that we
are demeaning ourselves so irreverently before Him ! I saw,
too, how completely hell is deserved for only one mortal sin,
and how impossible it is to understand the exceeding great
wickedness of committing it in the sight of majesty so great,
and how abhorrent to His nature such actions are. In this we
see more and more of His mercifulness, who, though we all
know His hatred of sin, yet suffers us to live.
16. The vision made me also reflect, that if one such
vision as this fills the soul with such awe, what will it be in
the day of judgment, when His Majesty will appear dis
tinctly, and when we too shall look on the sins we have com
mitted ! O my God, I have been, oh, how blind! I have
often been amazed at what I have written; and you, my
father, be you not amazed at any thing, but that I am still
living, — I, who see such things, and know myself to be what
I am. Blessed for ever be He who has borne with me
so long!
17. Once, in prayer, with much recollection, sweetness,
and repose, I saw myself, as it seemed to me, surrounded
by angels, and was close unto God. I began to intercede
with His Majesty on behalf of the Church. I was given to
understand the great services which a particular Order would
render in the latter days, and the courage with which its
members would maintain the faith.
18. I was praying before the most Holy Sacrament one
day; I had a vision of a Saint, whose Order was in some
degree fallen. In his hands he held a large book, which
he opened, and then told me to read certain words, written
in large and very legible letters; they were to this effect:
Cli. XL.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 329
"In times to come this Order will flourish ; it will have many
martyrs."1
19. On another occasion, when I was at Matins in choir,
six or seven persons, who seemed to me to be of this Order,
appeared and stood before me with swords in their hands.
The meaning of that, as I think, is that they are to be de
fenders of the faith; for at another time, when I was in
prayer, I fell into a trance, and stood in spirit on a wide
plain, where many persons were fighting; and the members
of this Order were fighting with great zeal. Their faces were
beautiful, and as it were on fire. Many they laid low on the
ground defeated, others they killed. It seemed to me to be
a battle with heretics.
20. I have seen this glorious Saint occasionally, and he
has told me certain things, and thanked me for praying for
his Order, and he has promised to pray for me to our Lord.
I do not say which Orders these are, — our Lord, if it so pleased
Him, could make them known, — lest the others should be
aggrieved. Let every Order, or every member of them by
himself, labour, that by his means our Lord would so bless
his own Order that it may serve Him in the present grave
necessities of His church. Blessed are they whose lives are
so spent.
21. I was once asked by a person to pray God to let
him know whether his acceptance of a bishopric would be
for the service of God. After Communion our Lord said
1 Yepez says that the Order here spoken of is the Carmelite, and
Ribera understands the Saint to refer to that of S. Dominic. The
Bollandists, n. 1638-1646, on the whole, prefer the authority of Ribera
to that of Yepez, and give good reasons for their preference, setting
aside as insufficient the testimony of Fray Luis of the Assumption,
who says he heard himself from the Venerable Anne of S. Bartholo
mew that the Order in question is the Order of our Lady of Mount
Carmel. Don Vicente, the Spanish editor, rejects the opinion of
Ribera, on the ground that it could not have been truly said of the
Dominicans in the sixteenth century that the Order was in "some
degree fallen," for it was in a most flourishing state. He therefore
was inclined to believe that the Saint referred to the Augustinians or
to the Franciscans. But, after he had printed this part of his book
he discovered among the MSS. in the public library of Madrid a letter
of Anne of S. Bartholomew, addressed to Fray Luis of the Assump
tion, in which the saintly companion of S. Teresa says that the
"Order was ours." Don Vicente has published the letter in the
Appendix, p. 566.
330 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XL.
to me: "When he shall have clearly and really understood
that true dominion consists in possessing nothing, he may
then accept it." I understood by this that he who is to be
in dignity must be very far from wishing or desiring it, or
at least he must not seek it.
22. These and many other graces our Lord has given,
and is giving continually, to me a sinner. I do not think
it is necessary to speak of them, because the state of my
soul can be ascertained from what I have written ; so also can
the spirit which our Lord has given me. May He be blessed
for ever, who has been so mindful of me !
23. Our Lord said to me once, consoling me, that I was
not to distress myself, — this He said most lovingly, — be
cause in this life we could not continue in the same state.1
At one time I should be fervent, at another not; now dis
quieted, and again at peace, and tempted; but I must hope
in Him, and fear not.
24. I was one day thinking whether it was a want of
detachment in me to take pleasure in the company of those
who had the care of my soul, and to have an affection for
them, and to comfort myself with those whom I see to be
very great servants of God.2 Our Lord said to me: "It is
not a virtue in a sick man to abstain from thanking and
loving the physician who seems to restore him to health
when he is in danger of death." What should I have done
without these persons? The conversation of good people
was never hurtful; my words should always be weighed,
and holy; and I was not to cease my relations with them, for
they would do me good rather than harm.
25. This was a great comfort to me, because, now and
then, I wished to abstain from converse with all people ; for
it seemed to me that I was attached to them. Always, in
all things, did our Lord console me, even to the showing
me how I was to treat those who were weak, and some
other people also. Never did He cease to take care of me.
I am sometimes distressed to see how little I do in His service,
and how I am forced to spend time in taking care of a body
so weak and worthless as mine is, more than I wish.
26. I was in prayer one night, when it was time to go
to sleep. I was in very great pain, and my usual sickness
was coming on.3 I saw myself so great a slave to myself,
1 Job. xiv. 2. 2 See ch. xxxvii. §§ 4, 6. 3 See ch. vii. § 19.
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 331
and, on the other hand, the spirit asked for time for itself.
I was so much distressed that I began to weep exceedingly,
and to be very sorry. This has happened to me not once
only, but, as I am saying, very often ; and it seems to make
me weary of myself, so that at the time I hold myself literally
in abhorrence. Habitually, however, I know that I do not
hate myself, and I never fail to take that which I see to be
necessary for me. May our Lord grant that I do not take
more than is necessary ! — I am afraid I do.
27. When I wras thus distressed, our Lord appeared unto
me. He comforted me greatly, and told me I must do this
for His love, and bear it ; my life was necessary now. And
so, I believe, I have never known real pain since I resolved
to serve my Lord and my Consoler with all my strength ;
for though He would leave me to suffer a little, yet lie
wrould console me in such a way that I am doing nothing
when I long for troubles. And it seems to me there is nothing
worth living for but this, and suffering is what I most heartily
pray to God for. I say to Him sometimes, with my whole
heart: "O Lord, either to die or to suffer! I ask of Thee
nothing else for myself." It is a comfort to me to hear the
clock strike, because I seem to have come a little nearer to
the vision of God, in that another hour of my life has passed
away.
28. At other times I am in such a state that I do not
feel that I am living, nor yet do I desire to die; but I am
lukewarm, and darkness surrounds me on every side, as I
said before ;x for I am very often in great trouble. It pleased
our Lord that the graces He wrought in me should be pub
lished abroad,2 as He told me some years ago they should
be. It was a great pain to me, and I have borne much on
that account even to this day, as you, my father, know,
because every man explains them in his own sense. But
my comfort herein is that it is not my fault that they are
become known, for I was extremely cautious never to speak
of them but to my confessors, or to persons who I knew
had heard of them from them. I was silent, however, not
out of humility, but because, as I said before,3 it gave me
great pain to speak of them even to my confessors.
29. Now, however, — to God be the glory! — though many
speak against me, but out of a zeal for goodness, and though
1 Ch. xxx. §11. 2 Ch. xxxi. §§ 16, 17. 3 Ch. xxviii. § 6.
332 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XL.
some are afraid to speak to me, and even to hear my con
fession, and though others have much to say about me, be
cause I see that our Lord willed by this means to provide
help for many souls, — and also because I see clearly and
keep in mind how much He would suffer, if only for the
gaining of one, — I do not care about it at all.
30. I know not why it is so, but perhaps the reason
may in some measure be that His Majesty has placed me in
this corner out of the way, where the enclosure is so strict, and
where I am as one that is dead. I thought that no one would
remember me, but I am not so much forgotten as I wish I
was, for I am forced to speak to some people. But as I am
in a house where none may see me, it seems as if our Lord
had been pleased to bring me to a haven, which I trust in
His Majesty will be secure. Now that I am out of the world,
with companions holy and few in number, I look down on
the world as from a great height, and care very little what
people say or know about me. I think much more of one
soul's advancement, even if it were but slight, than of all
that people may say of me ; and since I am settled here it
has pleased our Lord that all my desires tend to this.
31. He has made my life to me now a kind of sleep; for
almost always what I see seems to me m to be seen as in a
dream, nor have I any great sense either of pleasure or of
pain. If matters occur which may occasion either, the sense
of it passes away so quickly that it astonishes me, and leaves
an impression as if I had been dreaming, — and this is the
simple truth; for if I wished afterwards to delight in that
pleasure, or be sorry over that pain, it is not in my power
to do so : just as a sensible person feels neither pain nor
pleasure in the memory of a dream that is past; for now
our Lord has roused my soul out of that state, which, because
I was not mortified nor dead to the things of this world,
made me feel as I did, and His Majesty does not wish me
to become blind again.
32. This is the way I live now, my lord and father; do
you, my father, pray to God that He would take me to Him
self, or enable me to serve Him. May it please His Majesty
that what I have written may be of some use to you, my
father! I have so little time,1 and therefore my trouble has
been great in writing ; but it will be a blessed trouble if I have
1 See ch. xiv. § 12.
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 333
succeeded in saying any thing that will cause one single act of
praise to our Lord. If that were the case, I should look upon
myself as sufficiently rewarded, even if you, my father, burnt
at once what I have written. I would rather it were not burnt
before those three saw it, who you, my father, know of,
because they are, and have been, my confessors ; for if it be bad,
it is right they should lose the good opinion they have of
me; and if it be good, they are good and learned men, and I
know they will recognise its source, and give praise to Him
who hath spoken through me.
33. May His Majesty ever be your protector, and make
you so great a saint that your spirit and light may show the
way to me a miserable creature, so wanting in humility and so
bold as to have ventured to write on subjects so high ! May
our Lord grant I have not fallen into any errors in the matter,
for I had the intention and the desire to be accurate and
obedient, and also that through me He might, in some meas
ure, have glory, — because that is what I have been praying
for these many years; and as my good works are inefficient
for that end, I have ventured to put in order this my dis
ordered life. Still, I have not wasted more time, nor given it
more attention, than was necessary for writing it ; yet I have
put down all that has happened to me with all the simplicity
and sincerity possible.
34. May our Lord, who is all-powerful, grant — and He
can if He will — that I may attain to the doing of His will in
all things! May He never suffer this soul to be lost, which
He so often, in so many ways, and by so many means, has
rescued from hell and drawn unto Himself! Amen.
IHS.
The Holy Spirit be ever with you, my father.1 Amen. It
would not be any thing improper if I were to magnify my
labour in writing this, to oblige you to be very careful to
recommend me to our Lord ; for indeed I may well do so,
considering what I have gone through in giving this account
1 This letter, which seems to have accompanied the "Life," is
printed among the other letters of the Saint, and is addressed to her
confessor, the Dominican friar, Pedro Ibanez. It is the fifteenth letter
in the first volume of the edition of Madrid; but it is not dated there.
334 THE LIFE OF S. TERESA. [CH. XL.
of myself, and in retracing my manifold wretchedness. But,
still, I can say with truth that I felt it more difficult to speak
of the graces which I have received from our Lord than to
speak of my offences against His Majesty. You, my father,
commanded me to write at length; that is what I have done,
on condition that you will do what you promised, namely,
destroy every thing in it that has the appearance of being
wrong. I had not yet read it through after I had written it,
when your reverence sent for it. Some things in it may not
be very clearly explained, and there may be some repetitions ;
for the time I could give to it was so short, that I could
not stop to see what I was writing. I entreat your reverence
to correct it and have it copied, if it is to be sent on to
the Father-Master, Avila,1 for perhaps some one may recog
nise the handwriting. I wish very much you would order it
so that he might see it, for I began to write it with a view
to that. I shall be greatly comforted if he shall think that I
am on a safe road, now that, so far as it concerns me, there is
nothing more to be done.
Your reverence will do in all things that which to you
shall seem good, and you will look upon yourself as under an
obligation to take care of one who trusts her soul to your
keeping. I will pray for the soul of your reverence to our
Lord, so long as I live. You will, therefore, be diligent in
His service, in order that you may be able to help me; for
your reverence will see by what I have written how profitable
it is to give oneself, as your reverence has begun to do,
wholly unto Him who gives Himself to us so utterly without
measure.
Blessed be His Majesty for ever! I hope of His mercy
we shall see one another one day, when we, your reverence
and myself, shall see more clearly the great mercies He has
shown us, and when we shall praise Him for ever and ever.
Amen.
This book was finished in June, 1562.2
1 Juan de Avila, commonly called the Apostle of Andalusia.
"This date refers to the first account which the holy Mother
Teresa of Jesus wrote of her life; it was not then divided into chapters.
Afterwards she made this copy, and inserted in it many things which
had taken place subsequent to this date, such as the foundation of the
monastery of S. Joseph of Avila, as in p. 169.3 — FRAY Dp BANES."
_ 3 i. e. of the MS. See p. 268 of this translation.
ELEVENTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del
1. House in the street of La Canong-ia where the monastery was founded.
2. St. John of the Cross, who said the first Mass here. 3. Turn built by St. Teresa
in this house. 4. Cross frescoed on the wall of a room which seems to have served
as choir. 5. Monastery of Discalced Carmelites. Bishop walking. Madrilenes in the
country. Group of sheep. 6. Entrance to the cave where St. Dominic did penance.
7. Interior of this cave, and statue of St. Dominic before which St. Teresa had a
ST. JOSEPH AT SEGOVIA.
XVII.
Bruges.?. Raoux Sc
celebrated vision. 8. Bench used by St. Teresa. 9. Reliquary containing a coif
belonging to the Saint. 10. Monastery of Discalced Carmelites. 11. Reliquary
containing an undershirt of St. Teresa's, in the Discalced monastery. 12. Arms of
Gregory XIII., of the Borghese family, Pope then reigning. (1572-1585.) 13. Arms of
of the de Yepes family. 14 Arms of the Dominican province of Segovia. 15. Arms
of the city of Segovia. (See Appendix, note 18.)
THE RELATIONS OR MANIFESTATIONS
OF HER
SPIRITUAL STATE
WHICH
S. TERESA SUBMITTED TO HER CONFESSORS.
THE RELATIONS
RELATION I.
SENT TO S. PETER OF ALCANTARA IN 1560 FROM THE MONAS
TERY OF THE INCARNATION, AVILA.1
1. THE method of prayer I observe at present is this:
when I am in prayer, it is very rarely that I can use the
understanding, because the soul becomes at once recollected,
remains in repose, or falls into a trance, so that I cannot in
1 Fra Anton, de San Joseph, in his notes on this Relation, usually
published among the letters of the Saint, ed. Doblado, vol. ii. letter 11,
says it was written for S. Peter of Alcantara when he came to Avila in
1560, at the time when the Saint was so severely tried by her confess
ors and the others who examined her spirit, and were convinced that
her prayer was a delusion of Satan: see the Life, ch. xxv. § 18. The
following notes were discovered among the papers of the Saint in the
monastery of the Incarnation, and are supposed to refer to this
Relation. The Chronicler of the Order, Fra Francis de Santa Maria,
is inclined to the belief that they were written by S. Peter of Alcan
tara, to whom the Relation is addressed, and the more so because
Ribera does not claim them for any member of the Society, notwith
standing the reference to them in §§ 22, 28.
"1. The end God has in view is the drawing a soul to Himself;
that of the devil is the withdrawing it from God. Our Lord never
does any thing whereby any one may be separated from Him, and the
devil does nothing whereby any one may be made to draw near unto
God. All the visions and the other operations in the soul of this
person draw her nearer unto God, and make her more humble and
obedient.
"2. It is the teaching of S. Thomas that an angel of light may be
recognised by the peace and quietness he leaves in the soul. She is
never visited in this way, but she afterwards abides in peace and joy;
so much so, that all the pleasures of earth together are not compar
able to one of these visitations.
(337)
s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL i.
any way have the use of the faculties and the senses, — so
much so, that the hearing alone is left ; but then it does not
help me to understand any thing.
"3. She never commits a fault, nor falls into an imperfection, with
out being instantly rebuked by Him who speaks interiorly to her.
"4. She has never prayed for nor wished for them; all she wishes
for is to do the will of God our Lord in all things.
"5. Every thing herein is consistent with the Scriptures and the
teaching of the Church, and most true, according to the most rigor
ous principles of scholastic theology.
"6. This soul is most pure and sincere, with the most fervent de
sires of being pleasing unto God, and of trampling on every earthly
thing.
"7. She has been told that whatever she shall ask of God, being
good, she shall have. She has asked much, and things not convenient
to put on paper lest it should be wearisome; all of which our Lord
has granted.
"8. When these operations are from God, they are always directed
to the good of the recipient, to that of the community, or of some
other. That she has profited by them she knows by experience, and
she knows it, too, of other persons also.
"9. No one converses with her, if he be not in evil dispositions,
who is not moved thereby to devotion, even though she says nothing
about it.
"10. She is growing daily in the perfection of virtues, and learns
by these things the way of a higher perfection. And thus, during the
whole time in which she had visions, she was making progress, accord
ing to the doctrine of S. Thomas.
"11. The spirit that speaks to her soul never tells her any thing in
the way of news, or what is unbecoming, but only that which tends
to edification.
"12. She has been told of some persons that they were full of
devils; but this was for the purpose of enabling her to understand
the state of a soul which has sinned mortally against our Lord.
"13. The devil's method is, when he attempts to deceive a soul,
to advise that soul never to speak of what he says to it; but the
spirit that speaks to this soul warns her to be open with learned
men, servants of our Lord, and that the devil may deceive her if she
should conceal any thing through shame.
"14. So great is the progress of her soul in this way, and the edi
fication she ministers in the good example given, that more than
forty nuns in her monastery practise great recollection.
"15. These supernatural things occur after long praying, when she
is absorbed in God, on fire with His love, or at Communion.
"16. They kindle in her a most earnest desire to be on the right
road, and to escape the delusions of Satan.
"17. They are in her the cause of the deepest humility; she under
stands that what she receives comes to her from the hand of our Lord,
and how little worth she is herself.
KEL. I.j OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 339
2. It often happens, when I am not even thinking of
the things of God, but engaged in other matters, and when
prayer seems to be beyond my power, whatever efforts I
might make, because of the great aridity I am in, bodily
pains contributing thereto, that this recollection or elevation
"18. When they are withheld, any thing that occurs is wont to pain
and distress her; but when she is in this state, she remembers nothing;
all she is conscious of is a great longing for suffering, and so great is
it that she is amazed at it.
'19. They are to her sources of joy and consolation in her
troubles, when people speak ill of her, and in her infirmities, — and she
has fearful pains about the heart, sicknesses, and many other afflic
tions, all of which leave her when she has these visions.
"20. With all this, she undergoes great penances, fasting, the dis
cipline, and mortifications.
"21. All that on earth may give her any pleasure, and her trials,
which are many, she bears with equal tranquility of mind, without
losing the peace and quiet of her soul.
"22. Her resolution never to offend our Lord is so earnest that
she has made a vow never to leave undone what she knows herself,
or is told by those who understand the matter better, to be the more
perfect. And though she holds the members of the Society to be
saints, and believes that our Lord made use of them to bestow on
her graces so great, she told me that, if she knew it would be more
perfect to have nothing more to do with them, she would never speak
to them again, nor see them, notwithstanding the fact that it was
through them that her mind had been quieted and directed in these
things.
"23. The sweetnesses she commonly receives, her sense of God,
her languishing with love, are certainly marvellous, and through these
she is wont to be enraptured the whole day long.
"24. She frequently falls into a trance when she hears God spoken
of with devotion and earnestness, and cannot resist the rapture, do
what she can; and in that state her appearance is such that she
excites very great devotion.
"25. She cannot bear to be directed by any one who will not tell
her of her faults, and rebuke her; all that she accepts with great
humility.
"26. Moreover, she cannot endure people who are in a state of
perfection, if they do not labour to become perfect, according to the
spirit of their rule.
"27. She is most detached from her kindred, has no desire to con
verse with people, and loves solitude. She has a great devotion to
the saints, and on their feasts, and on the days on which the Church
celebrates the mysteries of the faith, is filled with most fervent affec
tions for our Lord.
"28. If all the members of the Society, and all the servants of God
upon earth, tell her that her state is an effect of the operations of
340 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. i.
of spirit comes upon me so suddenly that I cannot with
stand it, and the fruits and blessings it brings with it are
in a moment mine : and this, without my having had a vision,
or heard any thing, or knowing where I am, except that
when the soul seems to be lost I see it make great progress,
which I could not have made if I had laboured for a whole
year, so great is my gain.
3. At other times, certain excessive impetuosities occur,
accompanied with a certain fainting away of the soul for
God, so that I have no control over myself;1 my life seems
to have come to an end, and so it makes me cry out and
call upon God ; and this conies upon me with great vehemence.
Sometimes I cannot remain sitting, so great is the oppres
sion of the heart; and this pain comes on without my doing
any thing to cause it, and the nature of it is such that my
soul would be glad never to be without it while I live.
And the longings I have are longings not to live; and they
come on because it seems as if I must live on without
being able to find any relief, for relief comes from the vision
of God, which comes by death, and death is what I cannot
take; and with all this my soul thinks that all except itself
are filled with consolations, and that all find help in their
Satan, or were to say so, she is in fear and trembling before the
visions occur; but as soon as she is in prayer, and recollected, she
cannot be persuaded, were they to tear her into a thousand pieces,
that it is any other than God who is working in her and speaking to
her.
"29. God has given her a most wonderfully strong and valiant
spirit: she was once timid; now she tramples on all the evil spirits.
She has put far away from herself all the littleness and silliness of
women; she is singularly free from scruples, and most sincere.
"30. Besides, our Lord has given her the gift of most sweet tears,
great compassion for her neighbours, the knowledge of her own faults
a great reverence for good people, and self-abasement; and I am
certain that she has done good to many, of whom I am one.
"31. She is continually reminding herself of God, and has a sense
of His presence. All the locutions have been verified, and every one
of them accomplished; and this is a very great test.
"32. Her visions are a source of great clearness in her understand
ing, and an admirable illumination in the things of God.
"33. It was said to her that she should lead those who were trying
her spirit to look into the Scriptures, and that they would not find
that any soul desirous of pleasing God had been so long deceived."
1 See Life, ch. xxix. §§ 9-13.
REL. I.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 341
troubles, but not itself. The distress thus occasioned is so
intense that, if our Lord did not relieve it by throwing it
into a trance, whereby all is made calm, and the soul rests
in great quiet and is satisfied, now by seeing something of
that which it desires, now by hearing other things, it would
seem to be impossible for it to be delivered from this pain.
4. At other times there come upon me certain desires
to serve God, with a vehemence so great that I cannot de
scribe it, and accompanied with a certain pain at seeing
how unprofitable I am. It seems to me then that there is
nothing in the world, neither death nor martyrdom, that I
could not easily endure. This conviction, too, is not the
result of any reflection, but comes in a moment. I am wholly
changed, and I know not whence cometh such great courage.
I think I should like to raise my voice, and publish to all
the world how important it is for men not to be satisfied
with the common way, and how great the good is that God
will give us if we prepare ourselves to receive it. I say it
again, these desires are such that I am melted away in my
self, for I seem to desire what I cannot have. The body
seems to me to hold me in prison, through its inability to
serve God and my state1 in any thing; for if it were not
for the body, I might do very great things, so far as my
strength would allow ; and thus, because I see myself with
out any power whatever to serve God, I feel this pain in
a way wholly indescribable ; the issue is delight, recollec
tion, and the consolation of God.
5. Again, it has happened, when these longings to serve
Him come upon me, that I wish to do penance, but I am
not able. It would be a great relief to me, and it does relieve
and cheer me, though what I do is almost nothing, because
of my bodily weakness ; and yet, if I were to give way to
these my longings, I believe I should observe no moderation.
6. Sometimes, if I have to speak to any one, I am
greatly distressed, and I suffer so much that it makes me
weep abundantly; for my whole desire is to be alone, and
solitude comforts me, though at times I neither pray nor
read, and conversation — particularly of kindred and connec
tions — seems oppressive, and myself to be as a slave, except
when I speak to those whose conversation is of prayer and
1 De la Fuente thinks she means the religious state.
342 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. i.
matters of the soul, — in these I find comfort and joy ;x yet
these occasionally are too much for me, and I would rather
not see them, but go where I might be alone: though this
is not often the case, for those especially who direct my
conscience always console me.
7. At other times it gives me much pain that I must
eat and sleep, and that I see I cannot forego these things,
being less able to do so than any one. I submit that I may
serve God, and thus I offer up those actions to Him. Time
seems to me too short, and that I have not enough for my
prayer, for I should never be tired of being alone. I am
always wishing I had time for reading, for I have been
always fond of reading. I read very little, for when I take
up a book I become recollected through the pleasure it gives
me, and thus my reading is turned into prayer: and it is
but rarely, for I have many occupations; and though they
are good, they do not give me the pleasure which reading
would give. And thus I am always wishing for more time,
and every thing becomes disagreeable, so I believe, because
I see I cannot do what I wish and desire.
8. All these desires, with an increase in virtue, have
been given me by our Lord since He raised me to this prayer
of quiet, and sent these raptures. I find myself so improved
that I look on myself as being a mass of perdition before
this. These raptures and visions leave me in possession of
the blessings I shall now speak of; and I maintain that, if
there be any good in me, they are the occasions of it.
9. I have made a very strong resolution never to offend
God, not even venially. I would rather die a thousand deaths
than do any thing of the kind knowingly. I am resolved
never to leave undone any thing I may consider to be the
more perfect, or more for the honour of our Lord, if he who
has the care of my soul and directs me, tells me I may do it.
Cost me what pain it might, I would not leave such an act
undone for all the treasure of the world. If I were to do
so, I do not think I could have the face to ask any thing
of God our Lord, or to make my prayer; and yet, for all
this, I have many faults and imperfections. I am obedient
to my confessor,2 though imperfectly; but if I know that
he wishes or commands any thing I would not leave that
1 See Life, ch. xxiv. § 8, and ch. xxxi. § 22.
2 See Life, ch. xxiii. § 19.
REL- I-] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 343
undone, so far as I understand it; if I did so, I should think
myself under a grievous delusion.
10. I have a longing for poverty, though not free from
imperfection; however, I believe, if I had wealth, I would
not reserve any revenue, nor hoard money for myself, nor
do I care for it; I wish to have only what is necessary.
Nevertheless, I feel that I am very defective in this virtue;
for, though I desire nothing for myself, I should like to
have something to give away: still, I desire no revenue, nor
any thing for myself.1
11. In almost all the visions I have had, I have found
good, if it be not a delusion of Satan; herein I submit my
self to the judgment of my confessors.
12. As to fine and beautiful things, such as water, fields,
perfume, music, &c., I think I would rather not have them,
so great is the difference between them and what I am in
the habit of seeing, and so all pleasure in them is gone from
me.2 Hence it is that I care not for them, unless it be at
the first sight: they never make any further impression; to
me they seem but dirt.
13. If I speak or converse with people in the world —
for I cannot help it — even about prayer, and if the conversa
tion be long, though to pass away the time, I am under
great constraint if it be not necessary, for it gives me much
pain.
14. Amusements, of which I used to be fond, and worldly
things, are all disagreeable to me now, and I cannot look
at them.
15. The longings, which I said I have,3 of loving and
serving and seeing God, are not helped by any reflections,
as formerly, when I thought I was very devout, and shed
many tears; but they flow out of a certain fire and heat so
excessive that, I repeat it, if God did not relieve them by
throwing me into a trance, wherein the soul seems to find
itself satisfied, I believe my life would come to an end at
once.
16. When I see persons making great progress, and
thus resolved, detached, and courageous, I love them much ;
and I should like to have my conversation with such persons,
and I think they help me on. People who are afraid, and
1 See Life, ch. xxxv. § 2. ' See Life, ch. ix. § 6, and ch. xiv. § 7.
8 See § 3, above.
344 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. i.
seemingly cautious in those things, the doing of which is
perfectly reasonable here, seem to vex me, and drive me
to pray to God and the saints to make them undertake such
things as these which now frighten us. Not that I am good
for any thing myself, but because I believe that God helps
those who, for His sake, apply themselves to great things, and
that He never abandons any one who puts his trust in Him
only. And I should like to find any one who would help me
to believe so, and to be without thought about food and
raiment, but leave it all in the hands of God.1
17. This leaving in the hands of God the supply of all
I need is not to be understood as excluding all labour on
my part, but merely solicitude — I mean, the solicitude of
care. And since I have attained to this liberty, it goes well
with me, and I labour to forget myself as much as I can. I do
not think it is a year ago since our Lord gave me this liberty.
18. Vain-glory2 — glory be to God! — so far as I know,
there is no reason why I should have any; for I see plainly
that in these things which God sends me I have no part
myself : on the contrary, God makes me conscious of my own
wretchedness; for whatever reflections I might be able to
make, I could never come to the knowledge of such deep
truths as I attain to in a single rapture.
19. When I speak of these things a few days after, they
seem to me as if they had happened to another person. Previ
ously, I thought it a wrong to me that they should be
known to others; but I see now that I am not therefore any
the better, but rather worse, seeing that I make so little
progress after receiving mercies so great. And certainly, in
every way, it seems to me that there was not in the world
any body worse than myself; and so the virtues of others
seem to me much more meritorious than mine, and that I
do nothing myself but receive graces, and that God must
give to others at once all that He is now giving unto me ;
and I pray Him not to reward me in this life; and so I be
lieve that God has led me along this way because I am
weak and wicked.
20. When I am in prayer, and even almost always when I
am able to reflect at all, I cannot, even if I tried, pray to God
for rest, or desire it ; for I see that His life was one of suffer-
1 S. Matt. vi. 31. 2 See Life. ch. vii. § 2.
REL. I.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 345
ing, and that I ask Him to send me, giving me first the
grace to bear it.
21. Every thing of this kind, and of the highest per
fection, seems to make so deep an impression on me in prayer,
that I am amazed at the sight of truths so great and so
clear that the things of the world seem to be folly; and
so it is necessary for me to take pains to reflect on the way
I demeaned myself formerly in the things of the world,
for it seems to me folly to feel for deaths and the troubles
of the world, — at least, that sorrow for, or love of, kindred
and friends should last long. I say I have to take pains
when I am considering what I was, and what I used to
feel.
22. If I see people do any thing which clearly seems
to be sin, I cannot make up my mind that they have offended
God ; and if I dwell upon this at all, — which happens rarely
or never, — I never can make up my mind, though I see it
plainly enough. It seems to me that every body is as
anxious to serve God as I am. And herein God has been
very gracious unto me, for I never dwell on an evil deed,
to remember it afterwards; and if I do remember it, I see
some virtue or other in that person. In this way these things
never weary me, except generally : but heresies do, they dis
tress me very often, and almost always when I think of them
they seem to me to be the only trouble which should be felt.
And also I feel, when I see people who used to give them
selves to prayer fall away; this gives me pain, but not much,
because I strive not to dwell upon it.
23. I find, also, that I am improved in the matter of
that excessive neatness which I was wont to observe,1 though
not wholly delivered from it. I do not discern that I am
always mortified in this ; sometimes, however, I do.
24. All this I have described, together with a very con
stant dwelling in thought on God, is the ordinary state of
my soul, so far as I can understand it. And if I must be
busy about something else, without my seeking it, as I said
before,2 I know not who makes me awake, — and this not
always, only when I am busy with things of importance ;
and such — glory be to God! — only at intervals demand my
attention, and do not occupy me at all times.
1 See Life, ch. ii. § 2. ' § 2, above.
346 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. i.
25. For some days — they are not many, however — for
three, or four, or five, all my good and fervent thoughts, and
my visions, seem to be withdrawn, yea, even forgotten, so
that, if I were to seek for it, I know of no good that can ever
have been in me. It seems to have been all a dream, or, at
least, I can call nothing to mind. Bodily pains at the same
time distress me. My understanding is troubled, so that I
cannot think at all about God, neither do I know under what
law I live. If I read any thing, I do not understand it; I
seem to be full of faults, and without any resolution what
ever to practise virtue ; and the great resolution I used to
have is come to this, that I seem to be unable to resist the
least temptation or slander of the world. It suggests itself
to me then that I am good for nothing, if any one would
have me undertake more than the common duties. I give
way to sadness, thinking I have deceived all those who trusted
me at all. I should like to hide myself where nobody could
see me ; but my desire for solitude arises from want of courage,
not from love of virtue. It seems to me that I should like
to dispute with all who contradict me ; I am under the in
fluence of these impressions, only God has been so gracious
unto me, that I do not offend more frequently than I was
wont to do, nor do I ask Him to deliver me from them, but
only, if it be His will I should always suffer thus, to keep
me from offending Him ; and I submit myself to His will
with my whole heart, and I see that it is a very great grace
bestowed upon me that He does not keep me constantly in
this state.
26. One thing astonishes me ; it is that, while I am in
this state, through a single word of those I am in the habit
of hearing, or a single vision, or a little self-recollection,
lasting but an Ave Maria, or through my drawing near to
communicate, I find my soul and body so calm, so sound,
the understanding so clear, and myself possessing all the
strength and all the good desires I usually have. And this
I have had experience of very often — at least, when I go to
Communion ; it is more than six months ago that I felt a clear
improvement in my bodily health,1 and that occasionally
brought about through raptures, and I find it lasts sometimes
more than three hours, at other times I am much stronger for
a whole day; and I do not think it is fancy, for I have con-
1 See Life, ch. xx. § 29.
REL. I.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 347
sidered the matter, and reflected on it. Accordingly, when I
am thus recollected, I fear no illness. The truth is, that when
I pray, as I was accustomed to do before, I feel no improve
ment.
27. All these things of which I am speaking make me
believe that it comes from God; for when I see what I once
was, that I was in the way of being lost, and that soon, my
soul certainly is astonished at these things, without knowing
whence these virtues came to me; I did not know myself,
and saw that all was a gift, and not the fruit of my labours.
I understand in all truthfulness and sincerity, and see that
I am not deluded, that it has been not only the means of
drawing me to God in His service, but of saving me also from
hell. This my confessors know, who have heard my general
confession.
28. Also, when I see any one who knows any thing
about me, I wish to let him know my whole life,1 because
my honour seems to me to consist in the honour of our Lord,
and I care for nothing else. This He knows well, or I am
very blind; for neither honour, nor life, nor praise, nor good
either of body or of soul, can interest me, nor do I seek or
desire any advantage, only His glory. I cannot believe that
Satan has sought so many means of making my soul advance,
in order to lose it after all. I do not hold him to be so foolish.
Nor can I believe it of God, though I have deserved to fall
into delusions because of my sins, that He has left unheeded
so many prayers of so many good people for two years,
and I do nothing else but ask every body to pray to our
Lord that He would show me if this be for His glory, or
lead me by another way.2 I do not believe that these things
would have been permitted by His Majesty to be always
going on if they were not His work. These considerations,
and the reasons of so many saintly men, give me courage
when I am under the pressure of fear that they are not
from God, I being so wicked myself. But when I am in
prayer, and during those days when I am in repose, and my
thoughts fixed on God, if all the learned and holy men in the
world came together and put me to all conceivable tortures,
and I, too, desirous of agreeing with them, they could not
make me believe that this is the work of Satan, for I cannot.
And when they would have had me believe it, I was afraid,
1 See Life, ch. xxxi. § 17. * See Life, ch. xxv. § 20.
348 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. i.
seeing who it was that said so ; and I thought that thej must
be saying what was .true, and that I, being what I was, must
have been deluded. But all they had said to me was destroyed
by the first word or recollection, or vision that came and I
was able to resist no longer, and believed it was from God.1
29. However, I can think that Satan now and then may
intermeddle here, and so it is, as I have seen and said; but
he produces different results, nor can he, as it seems to me,
deceive any one possessed of any experience. Nevertheless,
I say that, though I do certainly believe this to be from
God, I would never do any thing, for any consideration what
ever, that is not judged by him who has the charge of my
soul to be for the better service of our Lord, and I never
had any intention but to obey without concealing any thing,
for that is my duty. I am very often rebuked for my faults,
and that in such a way as to pierce me to the very quick;
and I am warned when there is, or when there may be, any
danger in what I am doing. These rebukes and warnings
have done me much good, in often reminding me of my
former sins, which make me exceedingly sorry.
30. I have been very long, but this is the truth, — that,
when I rise from my prayer, I see that I have received
blessings which seem too briefly described. Afterwards I
fall into many imperfections, and am unprofitable and very
wicked. And perhaps I have no perception of what is good,
but am deluded ; still, the difference in my life is notorious,
and compels me to think over all I have said — I mean, that
which I verily believe I have felt. These are the perfections
which I feel our Lord has wrought in me, who am so
wicked and so imperfect. I refer it all to your judgment,
my father, for you know the whole state of my soul.
1 See Life, ch. xxv. § 18.
REL. II.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 349
RELATION II.
TO ONE OF HER CONFESSORS, FROM THE HOUSE OF DONA LUISA
DE LA CERDA, IN 1562. x
JESUS.
I THINK it is more than a year since this was written ; God
has all this time protected me with His hand, so that I have
not become worse; on the contrary, I see a great change for
the better in all I have to say : may He be praised for it all !
1. The visions and revelations have not ceased, but they
are of a much higher kind. Our Lord has taught me a way
of prayer, wherein I find myself far more advanced, more
detached from the things of this life, more courageous, and
more free.2 I fall into a trance more frequently, for these
ecstasies at times come upon me with great violence, and
in such a way as to be outwardly visible, I having no power
to resist them ; and even when I am with others — for they
come in such a way as admits of no disguising them, unless
it be by letting people suppose that, as I am subject to disease
of the heart, they are fainting-fits; I take great pains, how
ever, to resist them when they are coming on — sometimes I
cannot do it.
2. As to poverty, God seems to have wrought great
things in me ; for I would willingly be without even what
is necessary, unless given me as an alms ; and therefore my
longing is extreme that I may be in such a state as to de
pend on alms alone for my food. It seems to me that to
live, when I am certain of food and raiment without fail,
is not so complete an observance of my vow or of the
counsel of Christ as it would be to live where no revenue
is possessed, and I should be in want at times; and as to
the blessings that come with true poverty, they seem to me
to be great, and I would not miss them. Many times do I
find myself witb such great faith, that I do not think God
will ever fail those who serve Him, and without any doubt
1 Addressed, it is believed, to her confessor, F. Pedro Ibanez. This
Relation corresponds with ch. xxxiv. of the Life (De la Fuente).
2 See Life, ch. xxvii.
350 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. n.
whatever that there is, or can be, any time in which His
words are not fulfilled: I cannot persuade myself to the con
trary, nor can I have any fear; and so, when they advise me
to accept an endowment, I feel it keenly, and betake myself
unto God.
3. I think I am much more compassionate towards the
poor than I used to be, having a great pity for them and a
desire to help them; for if I regarded only my good will,
I should give them even the habit I wear. I am not fastidious
with respect to them, even if I had to do with them or touched
them with my hands, — and this I now see is a gift of God;
for though I used to give alms for His love, I had no
natural compassion. I am conscious of a distinct improve
ment herein.
4. As to the evil speaking directed against me, — which
is considerable, and highly injurious to me, and done by
many, — I find myself herein also very much the better. I
think that what they say makes scarcely any more impres
sion upon me than it would upon an idiot. I think at times,
and nearly always, that it is just. I feel it so little, that I
see nothing in it that I might offer to God, as I learn by
experience that my soul gains greatly thereby; on the con
trary, the evil speaking seems to be a favour. And thus,
the first time I go to prayer, I have no ill-feeling against
them; the first time I hear it, it creates in me a little resist
ance, but it neither disturbs nor moves me ; on the contrary,
when I see others occasionally disturbed, I am sorry for them.
So it is, I put myself out of the question ; for all the wrongs of
this life seem to me so light, that it is not possible to feel them,
because I imagine myself to be dreaming, and see that all
this will be nothing when I am awake.
5. God is giving me more earnest desires, a greater love
of solitude, a much greater detachment, as I said, with the
visions ; by these He has made me know what all that is,
even if I gave up all the friends I have, both men and women
and kindred. This is the least part of it: my kindred are
rather a very great weariness to me ; I leave them in all
freedom and joy, provided it be to render the least service
unto God ; and thus on every side I find peace.
6. Certain things, about which I have been warned in
prayer, have been perfectly verified. Thus, considering the
graces received from God, I find myself very much better;
REL. II.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 351
but, considering my service to Him in return, I am exceed
ingly worthless, for I have received greater consolation than
I have given, though sometimes that gives me grievous pain.
My penance is very scanty, the respect shown me great, much
against my will very often.1 However, in a word, I see that
I live an easy, not a penitential, life ; God help me, as He can !
7. It is now nine months, more or less, since I wrote
this with mine own hand; since then I have not turned my
back on the graces which God has given me; I think I have
received, so far as I can see, a much greater liberty of late.
Hitherto I thought I had need of others, and I had more
reliance on worldly helps. Now I clearly understand that
all men are bunches of dried rosemary, and that there is
no safety in leaning on them, for if they are pressed by
contradictions or evil speaking they break down. And so
I know by experience that the only way not to fall is to
cling to the cross, and put our trust in Him who was nailed
thereto. I find Him a real Friend, and with Him I find my
self endowed with such might that, God never failing me, I
think I should be able to withstand the whole world if it were
against me.
8. Having a clear knowledge of this truth, I used to
be very fond of being loved by others ; now I do not care
for that, yea, rather, their love seems to weary me in some
measure, excepting theirs who take care of my soul, or theirs
to whom I think I do good. Of the former I wish to be
loved, in order that they may bear with me; and of the
latter, that they may be more inclined to believe me when
I tell them that all is vanity.
9. In the very grievous trials, persecutions, and contradic
tions of these months,2 God gave me great courage ; and the
more grievous they were, the greater the courage, without
weariness in suffering. Not only had I no ill-feeling against
those who spoke evil of me, but I had, I believe, conceived
a deeper affection for them. I know not how it was ; certainly
it was a gift from the hand of our Lord.
10. When I desire any thing, I am accustomed naturally
to desire it with some vehemence ; now my desires are so
calm, that I do not even feel that I am pleased when I see
1 See Life, ch. xxxi. § 15.
2 The Saint is supposed to refer to the troubles she endured during
the foundation of the monastery of S. Joseph.
352 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. n.
them fulfilled. Sorrow and joy, excepting in that which re
lates to prayer, are so moderated, that I seem to be without
sense, and in that state I remain for some days.
11. The vehement longings to do penance which come,
and have come, upon me are great; and if I do any penance,
I feel it to be so slight in comparison with that longing,
that I regard it sometimes, and almost always, as a special
consolation ; however, I do but little, because of my great
weakness.
12. It is a very great pain to me very often, and at
this moment most grievous, that I must take food, particu
larly if I am in prayer. It must be very great, for it makes
me weep much, and speak the language of affliction, almost
without being aware of it, and that is what I am not in the
habit of doing, for I do not remember that I ever did so in
the very heaviest trials of my life: I am not a woman in
these things, for I have a hard heart.
13. I feel in myself a very earnest desire, more so than
usual, that God may find those who will serve Him, particu
larly learned men, in all detachment, and who will not cleave
to any thing of this world, for I see it is all a mockery; for
when I see the great needs of the Church, I look upon it
as a mockery to be distressed about aught else. I do
nothing but pray to God for such men, because I see that
one person, who is wholly perfect in the true fervour of
the love of God, will do more, good than many who are
lukewarm.
14. In matters concerning the faith, my courage seems
to me much greater. I think I could go forth alone by
myself against all the Lutherans, and convince them of their
errors. I feel very keenly the loss of so many souls. I
see many persons making great progress; I see clearly it
was the pleasure of God that such progress should have been
helped by me; and I perceive that my soul, of His goodness,
grows daily more and more in His love.
15. I think I could not be led away by vain-glory, even
if I seriously tried, and I do not see how I could imagine
any one of my virtues to be mine, for it is not long since I
was for many years without any at all ; and now, so far as I
am concerned, I do nothing but receive graces, without render
ing any service in return, being the most worthless creature in
the world. And so it is that I consider at times how all,
REL. II.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 353
except myself, make progress; I am good for nothing in my
self. This is not humility only, but the simple truth; and the
knowledge of my being so worthless makes me sometimes
think with fear that I must be under some delusion. Thus
I see clearly that all my gain has come through the revelations
and the raptures, in which I am nothing myself, and do no
more to effect them than the canvas does for the picture
painted on it. This makes me feel secure and be at rest;
and I place myself in the hands of God, and trust my desires ;
for I knew for certain that my desires are to die for Him,
and to lose all ease, and that whatever may happen.
16. There are days wherein I remember times without
number the words of S. Paul,1 — though certainly they are
not true of me, — that I have neither life, nor speech, nor
will of my own, but that there is One in me by whom I am
directed and made strong; and I am, as it were, beside
myself, and thus life is a very grievous burden to me. And
the greatest oblation I make to God, as the highest service
on my part, is that I, when I feel it so painfully to be absent
from Him, am willing to live on for the love of Him. I would
have my life also full of great tribulations and persecutions;
now that I am unprofitable, I should like to suffer; and I
would endure all the tribulations in the world to gain ever
so little more merit — I mean, by a more perfect doing of
His will.
17. Every thing that I have learnt in prayer, though
it may be two years previously, I have seen fulfilled. What
I see and understand of the grandeurs of God, and of the way
He has shown them, is so high, that I scarcely ever begin
to think of them but my understanding fails me,— for I
am as one that sees things far higher than I can understand,
— and I become recollected.
18. God so keeps me from offending Him, that I am
verily amazed at times. I think I discern the great care He
takes of me, without my taking scarcely any care at all,
being, as I was, before these things happened to me, a sea
of wickedness and sins, and without a thought that I was
mistress enough of myself to leave them undone. And the
reason why I would have this known is that the greater
power of God might be made manifest. Unto Him be praise
for ever and ever ! Amen.
1 Gal. ii. 20.
354 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. in.
JESUS.
This Relation here set forth, not in my handwriting, is one
that I gave to my confessor, and which he with his own hand
copied, without adding or diminishing a word. He was a
most spiritual man and a theologian : I discussed the state of
my soul with him, and he with other learned men, among
whom was Father Mancio.1 They found nothing in it that is
not in perfect agreement with the holy writings. This makes
me calm now, though, while God is leading me by this way, I
feel that it is necessary for me to put no trust whatever in my
self. And so I have always done, though it is painful enough.
You, my father, will be careful that all this goes under the
seal of confession, according to my request.
RELATION III.
•
OF VARIOUS GRACES GRANTED TO THE SAINT FROM THE
YEAR 1568 TO 1571 INCLUSIVE.
1. WHEN I was in the monastery of Toledo, and some
people were advising me not to allow any but noble persons
to be buried there,2 our Lord said to me: "Thou wilt be
very inconsistent, My daughter, if thou regardest the laws
of the world. Look at Me, poor and despised of men : are
the great people of the world likely to be great in My eyes?
or is it descent or virtue that is to make you esteemed?"
2. After Communion, the second day of Lent, in S.
Joseph of Malagon, our Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me
in an imaginary vision, as He is wont to do ; and when I
was looking upon Him I saw that He had on His head, in
stead of the crown of thorns, a crown of great splendour,
over the part where the wounds of that crown must have
been. And as I have a great devotion to the crowning with
thorns, I was exceedingly consoled, and began to think how
1 A celebrated Dominican, professor of theology in Salamanca
(Bouix}.
3 Alonzo Ramirez wished to have the right of burial in the new
monastery, but the nobles of Toledo looked on his request as un
reasonable. See Foundations, chs. xiv. and xv.
REL. III.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 355
great the pain must have been because of the many wounds,
and to be sorrowful. Our Lord told me not to be sad be
cause of those wounds, but for the many wounds which men
inflict upon Him now. I asked Him what I could do by way
of reparation ; for I was resolved to do any thing. He replied :
"This is not the time for rest;" that I must hasten on the
foundations, for He would take His rest with the souls which
entered the monasteries; that I must admit all who offered
themselves, because there were many souls that did not
serve Him because they had no place wherein to do it;
that those monasteries which were to be founded in small
towns should be like this; that the merit of those in them
would be as great, if they only desired to do that which
was done in the other houses; that I must contrive to put
them all under the jurisdiction of one superior,1 and take
care that anxieties about means of bodily maintenance did
not destroy interior peace, for He would help us, so that we
should never be in want of food. Especial care was to be
had of the sick sisters; the prioress who did not provide for
and comfort the sick was like the friends of Job: He sent
them sickness for the good of their souls, and careless su
periors risked the patience of their nuns. I was to write the
history of the foundation of the monasteries. I was thinking
how there was nothing to write about in reference to the
foundation of Medina, when He asked me, what more did I
want to see than that the foundation there was miraculous?
By this He meant to say that He alone had done it, when it
seemed impossible.2 I resolved to execute His commands.
3. Our Lord told me something I was to tell another, and
as I was considering how I did not understand it at all, —
though I prayed to Him, and was thinking it might be from
Satan, — He said to me that it was not, and that He Himself
would warn me when the time came.
4. Once, when I was thinking how much more purely
they live who withdraw themselves from all business, and
how ill it goes with me, and how many faults I must be
guilty of, when I have business to transact, I heard this: "It
cannot be otherwise, My daughter; but strive them always
after a good intention in all things, and detachment; lift up
1 See Way of Perfection, ch. viii. ; but ch. v. of the previous editions.
2 See Book of the Foundations, ch. iii.
356 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. in.
thine eyes to Me, and see that all thine actions may resemble
Mine."
5. Thinking how it was that I scarcely ever fell into
a trance of late in public, I heard this: "It is not necessary
now; thou art sufficiently esteemed for My purpose; we are
considering the weakness of the wicked."
6 One Tuesday after the Ascension,1 having prayed for
a while after Communion in great distress, because I was
so distracted that I could fix my mind on nothing, I com
plained of our poor nature to our Lord. The fire began to
kindle in my soul, and I saw, as it seemed to me, the most
Holy Trinity2 distinctly present in an intellectual vision,
whereby my soul understood through a certain representa
tion, as a figure of the truth, so far as my dulness could
understand, how God is Three and One ; and thus it seemed
to me that all the Three Persons spoke to me, that They
were distinctly present in my soul, saying unto me, "that
from that day forth I should see that my soul had grown better
in three ways, and that each one of the Three Persons had
bestowed on me a distinct grace, — in charity, in suffering joy
fully, in a sense of that charity in my soul, accompanied with
fervour." I learnt the meaning of those words of our Lord,
that the Three Divine Persons will dwell in the soul that is in
a state of grace.3 Afterwards giving thanks to our Lord for
so great a mercy, and finding myself utterly unworthy of it,
I asked His Majesty with great earnestness how it was that
He, after showing such mercies to me, let me go out of His
hand, and allowed me to become so wicked ; for on the pre
vious day I had been in great distress on account of my sins,
which I had set before me. I saw clearly then how much our
Lord on His part had done, ever since my infancy, to draw me
to Himself by means most effectual, and yet that all had
failed. Then I had a clear preception of the surpassing love of
God for us, in that He forgives us all this when we turn to
Him, and for me more than for any other, for many reasons.
The vision of the Three Divine Persons — one God — made so
profound an impression on my soul, that if it had continued it
would have been impossible for me not to be recollected in so
1 In the copy kept in Toledo, the day is Tuesday after the As
sumption (De la Fuente}.
2 Ch. xxvii. § 10. * S. John xiv. 23.
REL. III.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 357
divine a company. What I saw and heard besides is beyond
my power to describe.
7. Once, when I was about to communicate, — it was
shortly before I had this vision, — the Host being still in the
ciborium, for it had not yet been given me, I saw something
like a dove, which moved its wings with a sound. It dis
turbed me so much, and so carried me away out of myself,
that is was with the utmost difficulty I received the Host.
All this took place in $. Joseph of Avila. It was Father
Francis Salcedo who was giving me the most Holy Sacra
ment. Hearing Mass another day, I saw our Lord glorious
in the Host; He said to me that his sacrifice was acceptable
unto Him.
8. I heard this once: "The time will come when many
miracles will be wrought in this church; it will be called the
holy church." It was in S. Joseph of Avila, in the year 1571.
9. I retain to this day, which is the commemoration of
S. Paul, the presence of the Three Persons of which I spoke in
the beginning.1 They are present almost continually in my
soul. I, being accustomed to the presence of Jesus Christ only,
always thought that the vision of the Three Persons was in
some degree a hindrance, though I know the Three Persons
are but One God. To-day, while thinking of this, our Lord
said to me "that I was wrong in imagining that those things
which are peculiar to the soul can be represented by those of
the body ; I was to understand that they were very different,
and that the soul had a capacity for great fruition." It seemed
to me as if this were shown to me thus : as water pene
trates and is drunk in by the sponge, so, it seemed to me,
did the Divinity fill my soul, which in a certain sense had
the fruition and possession of the Three Persons. And I
heard Him say also: "Labour thou not to hold Me within
thyself enclosed, but enclose thou thyself within Me." It
seemed to me that I saw the Three Persons within my soul,
and communicating Themselves to all creatures abundantly
without ceasing to be with me.
10. A few days after this, thinking whether they were
right who disapproved of my going out to make new founda
tions, and whether it would not be better for me if I occupied
myself always with prayer, I heard this : "During this life, the
true gain consists not in striving after greater joy in Me, but
1 See 8 6.
358 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. in.
in doing My will." It seemed to me, considering what S.
Paul says about women, how they should stay at home,1
— people reminded me lately of this, and, indeed, I had heard
it before, — it might be the will of God I should do so too.
He said to me: "Tell them they are not to follow one part
of Scripture by itself, without looking to the other parts
also ; perhaps, if they could, they would like to tie My hands."
11. One day after the Octave of the Visitation, in one
of the hermitages of Mount Carmel, praying to God for one
of my brothers, I said to our Lord, — I do not know whether
it was only in thought or not, for my brother was in a place
where his salvation was in peril, — "If I saw one of Thy
brethren, O Lord, in this danger,' what would 1 not do to
help him !" It seemed to me there was nothing that I could
do which I would not have done. Our Lord said to me :
"O daughter, daughter! the nuns of the Incarnation are thy
sisters, and thou holdest back. Take courage, then. Behold,
this is what I would have thee do : it is not so difficult as
it seems; and though it seems to thee that by going thither
thy foundations will be ruined, yet it is by thy going that
both these and the monastery of the Incarnation will gain;
resist not, for My power is great."2
12. Once, when thinking of the great penance practised
by Dona Catalina de Cardona,3 and how I might have done
more, considering the desires which our Lord had given
me at times, if it had not been for my obedience to my con
fessors, I asked myself whether it would not be as well if I
disobeyed them for the future in this matter. Our Lord said
to me: "No my daughter; thou art on the sound and safe
road. Seest thou all her penance? I think more of thy
obedience."
13. Once, when I was in prayer, He showed me by a cer
tain kind of intellectual vision the condition of a soul in a
state of grace ; in its company I saw by intellectual vision the
most Holy Trinity, from whose companionship the soul de
rived a power which was a dominion over the whole earth.
1 Tit. ii. 5.
This took place in 1571, when the Saint had been appointed
prioress of the monastery of the Incarnation at Avila; the very house
she had left in order to found that of S. Joseph, to keep the rule in
its integrity.
3 See Book of the Foundations, ch. xxviii.
REL. HI.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 359
I understood the meaning of those words in the Canticle :
"Let my Beloved come into His garden and eat."1 He showed
me also the condition of a soul in sin, utterly powerless,
like a person tied and bound and blindfold, who, though
anxious to see, yet cannot, being unable to walk or to hear,
and in grievous obscurity. I was so exceedingly sorry for
such souls, that, to deliver only one, any trouble seemed to me
light. I thought it impossible for any one who saw this as I
saw it, — and I can hardly explain it, — willingly to forfeit so
great a good or continue in so evil a state.
14. One day, in very great distress about the state of the
Order, and casting about for means to succour it, our Lord
said to me : "Do thou what is in thy power, and leave Me
to Myself, and be not disquieted by any thing; rejoice in
the blessing thou hast received, for it is a very great one.
My Father is pleased with thee, and the Holy Ghost loves
thee."
15. "Thou art ever desiring trials, and, on the other
hand, declining them. I order things according to what I
know thy will is, and not according to thy sensuality and
weakness. Be strong, for thou seest how I help thee ; I
have wished thee to gain this crown. Thou shalt see the
Order of the Virgin greatly advanced in thy days." I heard
this from our Lord about the middle of February, 1571.
16. On the eve of S. Sebastian, the first year of my
being in the monastery of the Incarnation2 as prioress there,
at the beginning of the Salve, I saw the Mother of God de
scend with a multitude of angels to the stall of the prioress,
where the image of our Lady is, and sit there herself. I
think I did not see the image then, but only our Lady.
She seemed to be like that picture of her which the Countess3
gave me; but I had no time to ascertain this, because I
fell at once into a trance. Multitudes of angels seemed to
me to be above the canopies of the stalls, and on the desks in
front of them ; but I saw no bodily forms, for the vision was
intellectual. She remained there during the Salve, and said to
me : "Thou hast done well to place me here ; I will be present
\vhen the sisters sing the praises of my Son, and will offer
them to Him." After this I remained in that prayer which I
1 Cant. v. 1. 2 A. D. 1572.
3 Maria de Velasco and Aragon, Countess of Osorno (Ribera, lib.
iii. c. 1).
360 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. in.
still practise, and which is that of keeping my soul in the
company of the most Holy Trinity ; and it seemed to me that
the Person of the Father drew me to Himself, and spoke to
me most comfortable words. Among them were these, while
showing how He loved me: "I give thee My Son, and the
Holy Ghost, and the Virgin: what canst thou give Me?"1
17. On the Octave of the Holy Ghost, our Lord was
gracious unto me, and gave me hopes of this house,2 that it
would go on improving — I mean the souls that are in it.
18. On the Feast of the Magdalene, our Lord again con
firmed a grace I had received in. Toledo, electing me, in the
absence of a certain person, in her place.
19. In the monastery of the Incarnation, and in the
second year of my being prioress there, on the Octave of
S. Martin, when I was going to Communion, the Father
Fr. John of the Cross,3 — it was he who was giving me the
most Holy Sacrament, — divided the Host between me and
another sister. I thought it was done, not because there
was any want of Hosts, but that he wished to mortify me
because I had told him how much I delighted in Hosts of
a large size. Yet I was not ignorant that the size of the
Host is of no moment; for I knew that our Lord is whole
and entire in the smallest particle. His Majesty said to me:
"Have no fear, My daughter; for no one will be able to
separate thee from Me," — giving me to understand that the
size of the Host mattered not.
20. Then appearing to me, as on other occasions, in
an imaginary vision, most interiorly, He held out His right
hand and said: "Behold this nail! it is the pledge of thy
being My bride from this day forth. Until now thou hadst
not merited it; from henceforth thou shalt regard my honour,
not only as of one who is Thy Creator, King, and God, but
as thine, My veritable bride; My honour is thine, and thine
is Mine." This grace had such an effect on me, that I
could not contain myself : I became as one that is foolish,
and said to our Lord : "Either ennoble my vileness or cease
1 See Relation, iv. § 2.
2 The monastery of the Incarnation, Avila (De la Fuente).
3 S. John of the Cross, at the instance of the Saint, was sent to
Avila, with another father of the reformed Carmelites, to be confessor
of the nuns of the Incarnation, who then disliked the observance of
the primitive rule.
TWELFTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
1. Fr. Jerome of the Mother of God, in the world Jerome Gratian de Alderete,
first Provincial of the Reformed Rule, and St. Teresa's director. 2. General view
of the ruins of the convent. Fight with knives, recalling that of which St. Teresa
was a witness at La Venta de Albino. 3. Ruins of the old parish church. 4.
Carmelite church, at present parochial. Below, the cellars of an abandoned building.
5. Portal of this church, ornamented with the statue of St. Joseph, the arms of St.
Teresa's family, and an unknown escutcheon. 6. Depositary of the bones of St.
Catalina de Sandoval. in the wall above the sacristy door. 7. Table in the refectory,
at which St. Teresa took her meals; with cover which protects it. 8. List of
;
ST. JOSEPH OP THE SAVIOR AT VEAS.
XVIII.
Bruges. P Raoux Sc
professions made at the convent of Veas, from its foundation until the present time,
with autographs of St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross. 9. Folding- chair on
which St. John of the Cross was seated when he was rapt into ecstasy in the parlour
of the convent in 1578. 10. Reservoir of St. Albert's Fountain. 11. Monastery of
Discalced Carmelites at Jaen. Mother Emmanuella, Prioress of this convent in 1866,
was the last religious professed at Veas. 12. Arms of the de Alderete family.
13. Arms of the de Sandoval family. 14. Arms of the military order of Saint James.
15. Arms of the city of Veas. (See Appendix, note 19.)
REL. III.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 361
to bestow such mercies on me, for certainly I do not think
that nature can bear them." I remained thus the whole day,
as one utterly beside herself. Afterwards I became con
scious of great progress, and greater shame and distress to
see that I did nothing in return for graces so great.
21. Our Lord said this to me one day: "Thinkest thou,
My daughter, that meriting lies in fruition? No; merit lies
only in doing, in suffering, and in loving. You never heard
that S. Paul had the fruition of heavenly joys more than
once ; while he was often in sufferings.1 Thou seest how
My whole life was full of dolors, and only on Mount Tabor
hast thou heard of Me in glory.2 Do not suppose, when thou
seest My Mother hold Me in her arms, that she had that joy
unmixed with heavy sorrows. From the time that Simeon
spoke to her, My Father made her see in clear light all I had
to suffer. The grand Saints of the desert, as they were led by
God, so also did they undergo heavy penances ; besides, they
waged serious war with the devil and with themselves, and
much of their time passed away without any spiritual con
solation whatever. Believe me, My daughter, his trials are
the heaviest whom My Father loves most; trials are the
measure of His love. How can I show My love for thee
better than by desiring for thee what I desired for Myself?
Consider My wounds ; thy pains will never reach to them.
This is the way of truth; thus shalt thou help Me to weep
over the ruin of those who are in the world, for thou knowest
how all their desires, anxieties, and thoughts tend the other
way." When I began my prayer that day, my headache
was so violent that I thought I could not possibly go on.
Our Lord said to me: "Behold, now, the reward of suffering.
As thou, on account of thy health, wert unable to speak to
Me, I spoke to thee and comforted thee." Certainly, so it
was; for the time of my recollection lasted about an hour
and a half, more or less. It was then that He spoke to me
the words I have just related, together with all the others.
I was not able to distract myself, neither knew I where I
was ; my joy was so great as to be indescribable ; my headache
was gone, and I was amazed, and I had a longing for suffer
ing. He also told me to keep in mind the words He said to
His Apostles : "The servant is not greater than his lord."3
1 2 Cor. xi. 27. * S. Matt. xvii. 2. * S. John xiii. 16.
362 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. iv.
RELATION IV.
OF THE GRACES THE SAINT RECEIVED IN SALAMANCA AT THE
END OF LENT 1571.
1. I FOUND myself the whole of yesterday in great desola
tion, and, except at Communion, did not feel that it was the
day of the Resurrection. Last night, being with the com
munity, I heard one1 of them singing how hard it is to be
living away from God. As I was then suffering, the effect
of that singing on me was such that a numbness began in
my hands, and no efforts of mine could hinder it; but as I
go out of myself in raptures of joy, so then my soul was
thrown into a trance through the excessive pain, and re
mained entranced; and until this day I had not felt this. A
few days previously I thought that the vehement impulses
were not so great as they used to be, and now it seems to me
that the reason is what I have described ; I know not if it is so.
Hitherto the pain had not gone so far as to make me beside
myself; and as it is so unendurable, and as I retained the
control of my senses, it made me utter loud cries beyond my
power to restrain. Now that it has grown, it has reached this
point of piercing me; and I understand more of that piercing
which our Lady suffered; for until to-day, as I have just said,
I never knew what that piercing was. My body was so
bruised, that I suffer even now when I am writing this ; for
my hands are as if the joints were loosed, and in pain.2 You,
my father, will tell me when you see me whether this trance
be the effect of suffering, or whether I felt it, or whether
I am deceived.
2. I was in this great pain till this morning ; and, being in
prayer, I tell into a profound trance ; and it seemed to me that
our Lord had taken me up in spirit to His Father, and said to
Him : "Whom Thou hast given to Me, I give to Thee ;"3 and
He seemed to draw me near to Himself. This is not an
1 Isabel of Jesus, born in Segovia, and whose family name was
Jimenas, told Ribera (vide lib. iv. c. x.) that she was the singer, being
then a novice in Salamanca.
a See Fortress of the Soul, vi. ch. xi.
8 See Relation iii. § 16.
REL. IV.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 363
imaginary vision, but one most certain, and so spiritually
subtile that it cannot be explained. He spoke certain words
to me which I do not remember. Some of them referred to
His grace, which He bestows on me. He kept me by Him
for some time.
3. As you, my father, went away yesterday so soon,
and I consider the many affairs which detain you, so that
it is impossible for me to have recourse to you for comfort
even when necessary, — for I see that your occupations are
most urgent, — I was for some time in pain and sadness. As
I was then in desolation, — as I said before, — that helped me ;
and as nothing on earth, I thought, had any attractions for me,
I had a scruple, and feared I was beginning to lose that
liberty. This took place last night; and to-day our Lord
answered my doubt, and said to me "that I was not to be
surprised ; for as men seek for companions with whom they
may speak of their sensual satisfactions, so the soul — when
there is any one who understands it — seeks those to whom
it may communicate its pleasures and its pains, and is sad
and mourns when it can find none." He said to me : "Thou
art prosperous now, and thy works please Me." As He ie-
mained with me for some time, I remembered that I had
told you, my father, that these visions pass quickly away ;
He said to me "that there was a difference between these
and the imaginary visions, and that there could not be an
invariable law concerning the graces He bestowred on us ;
for it was expedient to give them now in one way, now in
another."
4. After Communion, I saw our Lord most distinctly
close beside me ; and He began to comfort me with great
sweetness, and said to me, among other things : "Thou be-
holdest Me present, my daughter, — it is I. Show Me thy
hands." And to me He seemed to take them and to put
them to His side, and said: "Behold My wounds; thou art
not without Me. Finish the short course of thy life." By
some things He said to me, I understood that, after His
Ascension, He never came down to the earth except in the
most Holy Sacrament t© communicate Himself to any one.
He said to me, that when He rose again He showed Himself
to our Lady, because she was in great trouble ; for sorrow had
so pierced her soul that she did not even recover herself at
once in order to have the fruition of that joy. By this I saw
364 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. iv.
how different was my piercing.1 But what must that of the
Virgin have been? He remained long with her then because
it was necessary to console her.
5. On Palm Sunday, at Communion, I was in a deep
trance, — so much so, that I was not able even to swallow
the Host ; and, still having It in my mouth, when I had
come a little to myself, I verily believed that my mouth was
all filled with Blood ; and my face and my whole body seemed
to be covered with It, as if our Lord had been shedding It
at that moment. I thought It was warm, and the sweetness
I then felt was exceedingly great ; and our Lord said to
me : "Daughter, My will is that My Blood should profit thee ;
and be not thou afraid that My compassion will fail thee.
I shed It in much suffering, and, as thou seest, thou hast
the fruition of It in great joy. I reward thee well for the
pleasure thou gavest Me to-day." He said this because I
have been in the habit of going to Communion, if possible,
on this day for more than thirty years, and of labouring to
prepare my soul to be the host of our Lord ; for I considered
the cruelty of the Jews to be very great, after giving Him
so grand a reception, in letting Him go so far for supper ; and
I used to picture Him as remaining with me, and truly in
a poor lodging, as I see now. And thus I used to have such
foolish thoughts — they must have been acceptable to our
Lord, for this was one of the visions which I regard as most
certain; and, accordingly, it has been a great blessing to
me in the matter of Communion.
6. Previous to this, I had been, I believe, for three
days in that great pain, which I feel sometimes more than
at others, because I am away from God; and during those
days it had been very great, and seemingly more than I
could bear. Being thus exceedingly wearied by it, I saw it
was late to take my collation, nor could I do so, — for if I do
not take it a little earlier, it occasions great weakness be
cause of my sickness; and then, doing violence to myself, I
took up some bread to prepare for collation, and on the in
stant Christ appeared, and seemed to be breaking the bread
and putting it into my mouth. He said to me: "Eat, My
daughter, and bear it as well as thou canst. I condole with
thee in thy suffering; but it is good for thee now." My pain
was gone, and I was comforted ; for He seemed to be really
1 See above, § 1.
REL. V.j OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 365
with me then, and the whole of the next day; and with this
my desires were then satisfied. The word "condole" made
me strong; for now I do not think I am suffering at all.
RELATION V.
OBSERVATIONS ON CERTAIN POINTS OF SPIRITUALITY.
1. "WHAT is it that distresses thee, little sinner? Am
I not thy God? Dost thou not see how ill I am treated here?
If thou lovest Me, why art thou not sorry for Me? Daughter,
light is very different from darkness. I am faithful ; no one
will be lost without knowing it. He must be deceiving him
self who relies on spiritual sweetnesses ; the true safety
lies in the witness of a good conscience.1 But let no one
think that of himself he can abide in the light, any more
than he can hinder the natural night from coming on; for
that depends on My grace. The best means he can have
for retaining the light is the conviction in his soul that he
can do nothing of himself, and that it comes from Me ; for,
even if he were in the light, the instant I withdraw, night will
come. True humility is this : the soul's knowing what itself
can do, and what I can do. Do not neglect to write down
the counsels I give thee, that thou mayest not forget them.
Thou seekest to have the counsels of men in writing; why,
then, thinkest thou that thou art wasting time in writing
down those I give thee? The time will come when thou
shalt require them all."
On Union.
2. "Do not suppose, My daughter, that to be near to Me
is union; for they who sin against Me are near Me, though
they do not wish it. Nor is union the joys and comforts of
union,2 though they be of the very highest kind, and though
they come from Me. These very often are means of winning
souls, even if they are not in a state of grace." When I
heard this, I was in a high degree lifted up in spirit. Our
1 2 Cor. i. 12.
2 See S. John of the Cross, Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch. v.
366 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. v.
Lord showed me what the spirit was, and what the state
of the soul was then, and the meaning of those words of the
Magnificat, "My spirit rejoices-." He showed me that the
spirit was the higher part of the will.
3. To return to union; I understood it to be a spirit,
pure, and raised up above all the things of earth, with nothing
remaining in it that would swerve from the will of God,
being a spirit and a will resigned to His will, and in de
tachment from all things, occupied in God in such a way as
to leave no trace of any love of self, or of any created thing
whatever.1 Thereupon, I considered that, if this be union,
it comes to this, that as my soul is always abiding in this
resolution, we can say of it that it is always in this prayer
of union ; and yet it is true that the union lasts but a very
short time. It was suggested to me that, as to living in
justice, meriting and making progress, it will be so; but it
cannot be said that the soul is in union, as it is when in
contemplation ; and I thought I understood, yet not by words
heard, that the dust of our wretchedness, faults, and imper
fections, wherein we bury ourselves, is so great, that it is
not possible to live in such pureness as the spirit is in when
in union with God, raised up and out of our wretched misery.
And I think, if it be union to have our will and spirit in
union with the will and Spirit of God, that it is not possible
for any one not in a state of grace to attain thereto ; and I
have been told so. Accordingly, I believe it is very difficult
to know when the soul is in union ; to have that knowledge
is a special grace of God, because nobody can tell whether he
is in a state of grace or not.2
4. You will show me in writing, my father, what you
think of this, and how I am in the wrong, and send me this
paper back.
5. I had read in a book that it was an imperfection to
possess pictures well painted, — and I would not, therefore,
retain in my cell one that I had ; and also, before I had read
this, I thought that it was poverty to possess none, except
those made of paper, — and, as I read this afterwards, I would
not have any of any other material. I learnt from our Lord,
when I was not thinking at all about this, what I am going
to say : "that this mortification was not right. Which is
better, poverty or charity? But as love was the better, what-
1 See Foundations, ch. v. § 2. 2 Eccl. ix. 1.
REL. V.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 367
ever kindled love in me, that I must not give up, nor take
away from my nuns; for the book spoke of much adorning
and curious devices — not of pictures.1 What Satan was doing
among the Lutherans was the taking away from them all
those means by which their love might be the more quickened ;
and thus they were going to perdition. Those who are loyal
to Me, My daughter, must now, more than ever, do the very
reverse of what they do." I understood that I was under
great obligations to serve our Lady and S. Joseph, because,
when I was utterly lost, God, through their prayers, came
and saved me.
6. One day, after the Feast of S. Matthew,2 I was as is
usual with me, after seeing in a vision the most Holy Trinity,
and how It is present in a soul in a state of grace.3 I under
stood the mystery most clearly, in such a way that, after
a certain fashion and comparisons, I saw It in an imaginary
vision. And though at other times I have seen the most
Holy Trinity in an intellectual vision, for some days after
the truth of it did not rest with me, — as it does now, I mean,
— so that I could dwell upon it. I see now that it is just
as learned men told me; and I did not understand it as I
do now, though I believed them without the least hesitation;
for I never had any temptations against the faith.
7. It seems to us ignorant women that the Persons of
the most Holy Trinity are all Three, as we see Them painted
in one Person, after the manner of those pictures which
represent a body with three faces; and thus it causes such
astonishment in us that we look on it as impossible, and so
there is nobody who dares to think of it; for the understand
ing is perplexed, is afraid it may come to doubt the truth,
and that robs us of a great blessing.
8. What I have seen is this: Three distinct Persons,
each one by Himself visible, and by Himself speaking.4 And
afterwards I have been thinking that the Son alone took
1 See S. John of the Cross, Mount Carmel, bk. iii. ch. xxxiv.
J The §§ 6, 7, and 8 are the thirteenth letter of the second volume,
ed. Doblado.
8 See Relation iii. § 13.
Antonio de San Joseph, in his notes on this passage, is anxious
to save the Thomist doctrine that one of the Divine Persons cannot be
seen without the other, and so he says that the Saint speaks of the
Three Persons as she saw Them— not as They are in Themselves.
368 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. v.
human flesh, whereby this truth is known. The Persons
love, communicate, and know Themselves. Then, if each
one is by Himself, how can we say that the Three are one
Essence, and so believe? That is a most deep truth, and I
would die for it a thousand times. In the Three Persons
there is but one will and one power and one might; neither
can One be without Another: so that of all created things
there is but one sole Creator. Could the Son create an ant
without the Father? No; because the power is all one. The
same is to be said of the Holy Ghost. Thus, there is one
God Almighty, and the Three Persons are one Majesty. Is
it possible to love the Father without loving the Son and
the Holy Ghost? No; for he who shall please One of the
Three pleases the Three Persons; and he who shall offend
One offends All. Can the Father be without the Son and
without the Holy Ghost? No; for They are one substance,
and where One is there are the Three ; for They cannot be
divided. How, then, is it that we see the Three Persons
distinct? and how is it that the Son, not the Father, nor the
Holy Ghost, took human flesh? This is what I have never
understood ; theologians know it. I know well that the
Three were there when that marvellous work was done, and
I do not busy myself with much thinking thereon. All my
thinking thereon comes at once to this : that I see God is
almighty, that He has done what He would, and so can do
what He will. The less I understand it, the more I believe
it, and the greater the devotion it excites in me. May He be
blessed for ever! Amen.
9. If our Lord had not been so gracious with me as
He has been, I do not think I should have had the courage
to do what has been done, nor strength to undergo the labours
endured, with the contradictions and the opinions of men.
And accordingly, since the beginning of the foundations, I
have lost the fears I formerly had, thinking that I was under
delusions, — and I had a conviction that it was the work of
God : having this, I ventured upon difficult things though
always with advice and under obedience. I see in this that
when our Lord willed to make a beginning of the Order, and
of His mercy made use of me, His Majesty had to supply all
that I was deficient in, which was every thing, in order that
the work might be effected, and that His greatness might be
the more clearly revealed in one so wicked.
REL. V.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 369
10. Antiochus was unendurable to himself, and to those
who were about him, because of the stench of his many
sins.1
11. Confession is for faults and sins, and not for virtues,
nor for any thing of the kind relating to prayer. These
things are to be treated of out of confession with one who
understands the matter, — and let the prioress see to this ;
and the nun must explain the straits she is in, in order
that the proper helps may be found for her; for Cassian says
that he who does not know the fact, as well as he who has
never seen or learnt, that men can swim, will think, when
he sees people throw themselves into the river, that they
will all be drowned.2
12. Our Lord would have Joseph tell the vision to his
brethren, and have it known, though it was to cost Joseph so
much.
13. How the soul has a sense of fear when God is about to
bestow any great grace upon it ; that sense is the worship
of the spirit, as that of the four3 elders spoken of in Scripture.
14. How, when the faculties are suspended, it is to be
understood that certain matters are suggested to the soul, to be
by it recommended to God ; that an angel suggests them, of
whom it is said in the Scriptures that he was burning incense
and offering up the prayers of the saints.4
15. How there are no sins where there is no knowledge;
and thus our Lord did not permit the king to sin with the
wife of Abraham, for he thought that she was his sister, not
his wife.
1 2 Maccab. ix. 10, 12.
* Cassian. Collat. vii. cap. iv. p. 311: "Nee enim si quis ignarus
natandi, sciens pondus corporis sui ferre aquarum liquorem non posse,
experimento suse voluerit impentire definire, neminem penitus posse
liquidis elementis solida carne circumdatum sustineri."
* Antonio de San Joseph says that the Saint meant to write four-
and-twenty, in allusion to Apoc. iv.
4 Apoc. viii. 4.
370 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. vi.
RELATION VI.
THE VOW OF OBEDIENCE TO FATHER GRATIAN WHICH THE SAINT
MADE IN 1575.
1. IN the year 1575, in the month of April, when I was
founding the monastery of Veas, Fra Jerome of the Mother
of God Gratian happened to come thither.1 I began to go to
confession to him from time to time, though not looking
upon him as filling the place of the other confessors I had,
so as to be wholly directed by him. One day, when I was
taking food, but without any interior recollection whatever,
my soul began to be recollected in such a way that I thought
I must fall into a trance ; and I had a vision, that passed away
with the usual swiftness, like a meteor. I seemed to see
close beside me Jesus Christ our Lord, in the form wherein
His Majesty is wont to reveal Himself, with F. Gratian on
His right. Our Lord took his right hand and mine, and,
joining them together, said to me that He would have me
accept him in His place for my whole life, and that we were
both to have one mind in all things, for so it was fitting. I
was profoundly convinced that this was the work of God,
though I remembered with regret two of my confessors whom
I frequented in turn for a long time, and to whom I owed
much ; that one for whom I have a great affection especially
caused a terrible resistance. Nevertheless, not being able
to persuade myself that the vision was a delusion, because
it had a great power and influence over me, and also because
it was said to me on two other occasions that I was not to
be afraid, that He w'shed this, — the words were different,
— I made up my mind at last to act upon them, understand
ing it to be our Lord's will, and to follow that counsel so
long as I should live. I had never before so acted with any
one, though I had consulted many persons of great learn
ing and holiness, and who watched over my soul with great
care, — but neither had I received any such direction as that
I should make no change ; for as to my confessors, of some
I understood that they would be profitable to me, and so also
of these.
1 See Foundations, ch. xxii.
REL. VI.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 371
2. When I had resolved on this, I found myself in peace
and comfort so great that I was amazed, and assured of our
Lord's will ; for I do not think that Satan could fill the soul
with peace and comfort such as this : and so, whenever I
think of it, I praise our Lord and remember the words,
"He hath made peace within thy borders,"1 and I wish I could
wear myself out in the praises of God.
3. It must have been about a month after this my resolve
was made, on the second day after Pentecost, when I was
going to found the monastery in Seville, that we heard
.Mass in a hermitage in Ecija, and rested there during the
hottest part of the day. Those who were with me remained
in the hermitage while I was by myself in the sacristy be
longing to it. I began to think of one great grace which I
received of the Holy Ghost, on one of the vigils of His
feast,2 and a great desire arose within me of doing Him
some most special service, and I found nothing that was not
already done, — at least, resolved upon, — for all I do must
be faulty; and I remembered that, though I had already
made a vow of obedience, it might be made in greater per
fection, and I had an impression it would be pleasing unto
Him if I promised that which I was already resolved upon,
to live under obedience to the Father-Master Fr. Jerome.
On the one hand, I seemed to be doing nothing, because 1
was already bent on doing it; on the other hand, it would
be a very serious thing, considering that our interior state
is not made known to the superiors who receive our vows,
and that they change, and that, if one is not doing his work
well, another comes in his place; and I believed I should
have none of my liberty all my life long, either outwardly
or inwardly, and this constrained me greatly to abstain from
making the vow. This repugnance of the will made me
ashamed, and I saw that, now I had something I could do
ior God, I was not doing it; it was a sad thing for my reso
lution to serve Him. The fact is, that the objection so pressed
me, that I do not think I ever did any thing in my life that
was so hard — not even my profession — unless it be that of
my leaving my father's house to become a nun.3 The reason
1 Ps. cxlvii. 3.
a Perhaps the Saint refers to what she has written in her Life, ch.
xxxviii. §§ 11, 12.
3 Life, ch. iv. § 1.
372 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. vi.
of this was that I had forgotten my affection for him, and
his gifts for directing me; yea, rather, I was looking on
it then as a strange thing, which has surprised me; feeling
nothing but a great fear whether the vow would be for the
service of God or not: and my natural self — which is fond
of liberty — must have been doing its work, though for years
now I have no pleasure in it. But it seemed to me a far
other matter to give up that liberty by a vow, as in truth
it is. After a protracted struggle, our Lord gave me great
confidence; and I saw it was the better course, the more
I felt about it : if I made this promise in honour of the Holy
Ghost, He would be bound to give him light for the direction
of my soul ; and I remembered at the same time that our Lord
had given him to me as my guide. Thereupon I fell upon my
knees, and, to render this tribute of service to the Holy Ghost,
made a promise to do whatever he should bid me do while I
lived, provided nothing were required of me contrary to the
law of God and the commands of superiors whom I am more
bound to obey. I adverted to this, that the obligation did
not extend to things of little importance, — as if I were to
be importunate with him about any thing, and he bade me
cease, and I neglected his advice and repeated my request,
— nor to things relating to my convenience. In a word, his
commands were not to be about trifles, done without reflec
tion; and I was not knowingly to conceal from him my faults
and sins, or my interior state ; and this, too, is more than we
allow to superiors. In a word, I promised to regard him
as in the place of God, outwardly and inwardly. I know
not if it be so, but I seemed to have done a great thing in
honour of the Holy Ghost — at least, it was all I could do,
and very little it was in comparison with what I owe Him.
4. I give God thanks, who has created one capable of
this work: I have the greatest confidence that His Majesty
will bestow on him great graces ; and I myself am so happy
and joyous, that I seem to be in every way free from myself;
and though I thought that my obedience would be a burden,
I have attained to the greatest freedom. May our Lord be
praised for ever !
REL. VII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 373
RELATION VII.
MADE FOR RODRIGO ALVAREZ, S. J., IN THE YEAR 1575, ACCORD
ING TO DON VICENTE DE LA FUENTE J BUT IN 1576, ACCORD
ING TO THE BOLLANDISTS AND F. BOUIX.
1. THIS nun took the habit forty years ago, and from the
first began to reflect on the mysteries of the Passion of Christ
our Lord, and on her own sins, for some time every day with
out thinking at all of any thing supernatural, but only of
created things, or of such subjects as suggested to her how
soon the end of all things must come, discerning in creatures
the greatness of God and His love for us.
2. This made her much more willing to serve Him : she
was never under the influence of fear, and made no account of
it, but had always a great desire to see God honoured and His
glory increased. To that end were all her prayers directed,
without making any for herself; for she thought that it mat
tered little if she had to suffer in purgatory in exchange for
the increase of His glory even in the slightest degree.
3. In this she spent about two-and-twenty years in great
aridities, and never did it enter into her thoughts to desire any
thing else; for she regarded herself as one who, she thought,
did not deserve even to think about God, except that His
Majesty was very merciful to her in allowing her to remain in
His presence, saying her prayers, reading also in good books.
4. It must be about eighteen years since she began to
arrange about the first monastery of Barefooted Carmelites
which she founded. It was in Avila, three or two years
before, — I believe it is three, — she began to think that she
occasionally heard interior locutions, and had visions and
revelations interiorly. She saw with the eyes of the soul, for
she never saw any thing with her bodily eyes, nor heard any
thing with her bodily ears: twice, she thinks, she heard a
voice, but she understood not what was said. It was a sort of
making things present when she saw these things interiorly;
they passed away like a meteor most frequently. The vision,
however, remained so impressed on her mind, and produced
such effects, that it was as if she saw those things with her
bodily eyes, and more.
374 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. vn.
5. She was then by nature so very timid, that she would
not dare to be alone even by day, at times. And as she
could not escape from these visitations, though she tried with
all her might, she went about in very great distress, afraid
that it was a delusion of Satan, and began to consult spiritual
men of the Society of Jesus about it, among whom were
Father Araoz, who was Commissary of the Society, and
who happened to go to that place, and Father Francis, who
was Duke of Gandia, — him she consulted twice ;x also a
Provincial, now in Rome, called Gil Gonzalez, and him also
who is now Provincial of Castille, — this latter, however, not
so often, — Father Baltasar Alvarez, who is now Rector in
Salamanca ; and he heard her confession for six years at this
time; also the present Rector of Cuenca, Salazar by name;
the Rector of Segovia, called Santander; the Rector of Burgos,
whose name is Ripalda, — and he thought very ill of her when
he heard of these things, till after he had conversed with her;
the Doctor Paul Hernandez in Toledo, who was a Consultor
of the Inquisition, him who was Rector in Salamanca when
she talked to him ; the Doctor Gutierrez, and other fathers,
some of the Society, whom she knew to be spiritual men,
these she sought out, if any were in those places where she
went to found monasteries.
6. With the Father Fra Peter of Alcantara, who was
a holy man of the Barefooted Friars of S. Francis, she had
many communications, and he it was who insisted so much
upon it that her spirit should be regarded as good. They
were more than six years trying her spirit minutely, as it is
already described at very great length,2 as will be shown
hereafter : and she herself in tears and deep affliction ; for
the more they tried her, the more she fell into raptures, and
into trances very often, — not, however, deprived of her
senses.
7. Many prayers were made, and many Masses were
said, that our Lord would lead her by another way,3 for her
fear was very great when she was not in prayer; though in
every thing relating to the state of her soul she was very
much better, and a great difference was visible, there was
no vain-glory, nor had she any temptation thereto, nor to
pride ; on the contrary, she was very much ashamed and
1 See Life, ch. xxiv. § 4. 2 See Life, ch. xxv. § 18.
8 See Life, ch. xxv. § 20, and ch. xxvii. § 1.
REL. VII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 375
confounded when she saw that people knew of her state,
and except with her confessors, or any one who would give
her light, she never spoke of these things, and it was more
painful to speak of them than if they had been grave sins;
for it seemed to her that people must laugh at her,1 and that
these things were womanish imaginations, which she had
always heard of with disgust.
8. About thirteen years ago, more or less, after the
house of S. Joseph was founded, into which she had gone
from the other monastery, came the present Bishop of
Salamanca, Inquisitor, I think, of Toledo, previously of Seville,
Soto by name.2 She contrived to have a conference with him
for her greater security, and told him every thing. He re
plied, that there was nothing in all this that concerned his
office, because every thing that she saw and heard confirmed
her the more in the Catholic faith, in which she always was,
and is firm, with most earnest desires for the honour of God
and the good of souls, willing to suffer death many times for
one of them.
9. He told her, when he saw how distressed she was,
to give an account of it all, and of her whole life, without
omitting any thing, to the Master Avila, who was a man of
great learning in the way of prayer, and to rest content with
1 See Life, ch. xxvi. § 5.
Don Francisco de Soto y Salazar was a native of Bonilla de la
Sierra, and Vicar-General of the Bishops of Astorga and Avila, and
Canon of Avila; Inquisitor of Cordova, Seville, and Toledo; Bishop,
successively, of Albarracin, Segorve, and Salamanca. He died at
Merida in 1576, poisoned, it was suspected, by the sect of the Illumi-
nati, who were alarmed at his faithful zeal and holy life (Palafox, note
to letter 19, vol. i. ed. Doblado). "She went to the Inquisitor Don
Francisco Soto de Salazar — he was afterwards Bishop of Salamanca —
and said to him: 'My lord, I am subject to certain extraordinary pro
cesses in prayer, such as ecstasies, raptures, and revelations, and do
not wish to be deluded or deceived by Satan, or to do any thing that
is not absolutely safe. I give myself up to the Inquisition to try me
and examine my ways of going on, submitting myself to its orders.'
The Inquisitor replied: 'Senora, the business of the Inquisition is not
to try the spirits, nor to examine ways of prayer, but to correct here
tics. Do you, then, commit your experience to writing, in all sim
plicity and truth, and send it to the Father-Master Avila, who is a
man of great spirituality and learning, and extremely conversant with
matters of prayer; and when you shall have his answer, you may be
sure there is nothing to be afraid of,' " (Jerome Gratian, Lucidario, cap.
iii.).
376 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. vn.
the answer he should give. She did so, and described her
sins and her life. He wrote to her and comforted her, giving
her great security. The account I gave was such that all
those learned men who saw it — they were my confessors —
said that it was very profitable for instruction in spiritual
things ; and they commanded her to make copies of it, and
write another little book1 for her daughters, — she was prioress,
— wherein she might give them some instructions.
10. Notwithstanding all this, she was not without fears
at times, for she thought that spiritual men also might be
deceived like herself. She told her confessor that he might
discuss these things with certain learned men, though they
were not much given to prayer, for she had no other desire
but that of knowing whether what she experienced was in
conformity with the sacred writings or not. Now and then
she took comfort in thinking that — though she herself, be
cause of her sins, deserved to fall into delusions — our Lord
would not suffer so many good men, anxious to give her
light, to be led into error.
11. Having this in view, she began to communicate with
fathers of the Order of the glorious S. Dominic, to which,
before these things took place, she had been to confession,
— she does not say to them, but to the Order.2 These are
they with whom she afterwards had relations. The Father
Fra Vicente Barron, at that time Consultor of the Holy
Office, heard her confessions for eighteen months in Toledo,
and he had done so very many years before these things began.
He was a very learned man. He reassured her greatly, as did
also the fathers of the Society spoken of before. All used to
say, If she does not sin against God, and acknowledges her
own misery, what has she to be afraid of? She confessed to
the Father Fra Pedro Ibanez, who was Reader in Avila; to
the Father-Master Fra Dominic Banes, who is now in Valla-
dolid as rector of the college of S. Gregory, I confessed for
six years, and whenever I had occasion to do so communi
cated with him by letter ; also to the Master Chaves ; to the
1 This book is the Way of Perfection, written by direction of F.
Banes.
2 The Saint had such great affection for the Order of S. Dominic,
that she used to say of herself, "Yo soy la Dominica in passione,"
meaning thereby that she was in her heart a Dominicaness, and a child
of the Order (Palafox, note to letter 16, vol. i. ed. Doblado).
REL. VII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 377
Father-Master Fra Bartholomew of Medina, professor in
Salamanca, of whom she knew that he thought ill of her;
for she, having heard this, thought that he, better than any
other, could tell her if she was deceived, because he had so
little confidence in her. This was more than two years ago.
She contrived to go to confession to him, and gave him a
full account of every thing while she remained there; and
he saw what she had written,1 for the purpose of attaining
to a better understanding of the matter. He reassured her
so much, and more than all the rest, and remained her very
good friend.
12. She went to confession also to Fra Philip de Meneses,
when she founded the monastery of Valladolid, for he was
•rector of the college of S. Gregory. He having before that
heard of her state, had gone to Avila, that he might speak to
her, — it was an act of great charity, — being desirous of ascer
taining whether she was deluded, so that he might enlighten
her, and, if she was not, defend her when he heard her spoken
against; and he was much satisfied.
13. She also conferred particularly with Salinas, Domini
can Provincial, a man of great spirituality; with another licen
tiate named Lunar, who was prior of S. Thomas of Avila; and,
in Segovia, with a Reader, Fra Diego de Yangues.
14. Of these Dominicans some never failed to give them
selves greatly to prayer, and perhaps all did. Some others
also she consulted ; for in so many years, and because of the
fear she was in, she had opportunities of doing so, especially
as she went about founding monasteries in so many places.
Her spirit was tried enough, for every body wished to be able
to enlighten her, and thereby reassured her and themselves.
She always, at all times, wished to submit herself to whatever
they enjoined her, and she was therefore distressed when, as
to these spiritual things, she could not obey them. Both her
own prayer, and that of the nuns she has established, are
always carefully directed towards the propagation of the faith ;
and it was for that purpose, and for the good of her Order,
that she began her first monastery.
15. She used to say that, if any of these things tended
to lead her against the Catholic faith and the law of God,
1 When this father had read the Life, he had it copied, with the
assent of F. Gratian, and gave the copy thus made to the Duchess of
Alba (De la Puente).
378 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. vn.
she would not need to seek for learned men nor tests, be
cause she would see at once that they came from Satan. She
never undertook any thing merely because it came to her in
prayer; on the contrary, when her confessors bade her do the
reverse, she did so without being in the least troubled thereat,
and she always told them every thing. For all that they told
her that these things came from God, she never so thoroughly
believed them that she could swear to it herself, though it did
seem to her that they were spiritually safe, because of the
effects thereof, and of the great graces which she at times
received; but she always desired virtues more than any thing
else; and this it is that she has charged her nuns to desire,
saying to them that the most humble and mortified will be the
most spiritual.
16. All that is told and written she communicated to the
Father-Master Fra Dominic Banes, who is now in Valla-
dolid, and who is the person with whom she has had, and has
still, the most frequent communications. He sent her writings
to the Holy Office in Madrid, so it is said. In all this she
submits herself to the Catholic faith and the Roman Church.
Nobody has found fault with them, because these things
are not in the power of any man, and our Lord does not
require what is impossible.
17. The reason why so much is known about her is that,
as she was in fear about herself, and described her state to so
many, these talked to one another on the subject, and also the
accident that happened to what she had written.1 This has
been to her a very grievous torment and cross, and has cost
her many tears. She says that this distress is not the effect of
humility, but of the causes already mentioned. Our Lord
seems to have given permission2 for this torture ; for if one
spoke more harshly of her than others, by little and little he
spoke more kindly of her.
18. She took the greatest pains not to submit the state of
her soul to any one who she thought would believe that these
things came from God, for she was instantly afraid that the
devil would deceive them both. If she saw any one timid
about these things, to him she laid bare her secrets with the
greater joy ; though also it gave her pain when, for the pur
pose of trying her, these things were treated with contempt,
for she thought some were really from God, and she would not
1 See Foundations, ch. xvii. § 12, note. 2 Life, ch. xxiii. § 15.
REL. VII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 379
have people, even if they had good cause, condemn them so ab
solutely ; neither would she have them believe that all were
from God; and because she knew perfectly well that delusion
was possible, therefore it was that she never thought herself
altogether safe in a matter wherein there might be danger.
19. She used to strive with all her might never in any way
to offend God, and was always obedient; and by these means
she thought she might obtain her deliverance, by the help of
God, even if Satan were the cause.
20. Ever since she became subject to these supernatural
visitations, her spirit is always inclined to seek after that which
is most perfect, and she had almost always a great desire to
suffer; and in the persecutions she underwent, and they were
many, she was comforted, and had a particular affection for
her persecutors. She had a great desire to be poor and lonely,
and to depart out of this land of exile in order to see God.
Through these effects, and others like them, she began to find
peace, thinking that a spirit which could leave her with these
virtues could not be an evil one, and they who had the charge
of her soul said so ; but it was a peace that came from dimin
ished weariness, not from the cessation of fear.
21. The spirit she is of never urged her to make any
of these things known, but to be always obedient.1 As it
has been said already,2 she never saw any thing with her
bodily eyes, but in a way so subtile and so intellectual that
at first she sometimes thought that all was the effect of
imagination; at other times she could not think so. These
things were not continual, but occurred for the most part when
she was in some trouble : as on one occasion, when for some
days she had to bear unendurable interior pains, and a restless
ness of soul arising out of the fear that she was deluded by
Satan, as it is described at length in the account she has given
of it,3 and where her sins, for they have been so public, are
mentioned with the rest; for the fear she was in made her
forget her own good name.
22. Being thus in distress such as cannot be described, at
the mere hearing interiorly these words,4 "It is I, be not
afraid," her soul became so calm, courageous, and confident,
that she could not understand whence so great a blessing had
come ; for her confessor had not been able — and many learned
1 Life, ch. xxvi. § 6. * § 4.
3 Life, ch. xxv. § 19. 4 Life, ch. xxv. § 22.
380 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. vu.
men, with many words, had not been able — to give her that
peace and rest which this one word had given her. And thus
at other times, some vision gave her strength, for without that
she could not have borne such great trials and contradictions,
together with infirmities without number, and which she still
has to bear, though they are not so many, — for she is never free
from some suffering or other, more or less intense. Her ordi
nary state is constant pain, with many other infirmities,
though since she became a nun they are more troublesome,
if she is doing any thing in the service of our Lord. And
the mercies He shows her pass quickly out of memory, though
she often dwells on those mercies, — but she is not able to dwell
so long upon these as upon her .sins ; these are always a tor
ment to her, most commonly as filth smelling foully.
23. That her sins are so many, and her service of God so
scanty, must be the reason why she is not tempted to vain
glory. There never was any thing in any of these spiritual
visitations that was not wholly pure and clean, nor does she
think it can be otherwise if the spirit be good and the visions
supernatural, for she utterly neglects the body and never
thinks of it, being wholly intent upon God.
24. She is also living in great fear about sinning against
God, and doing His will in all things; this is her continual
prayer. And she is, she thinks, so determined never to swerve
from this, that there is nothing her confessors might enjoin
her, which she considers to be for the greater honour of our
Lord, that she would not undertake and perform, by the help
of our Lord. And confident that His Majesty helps those who
have resolved to advance His service and glory, she thinks no
more of her self and of her own progress, in comparison with
that, than if she did not exist, so far as she knows herself,
and her confessors think so too.
25. All that is written in this paper is the simple truth,
and they, and all others who have had any thing to do with
her for these twenty years, can justify it. Most frequently her
spirit urged her to praise God, and she wished that all the
world gave itself up to that, even though it should cost her ex
ceedingly. Hence the desire she has for the good of souls ; and
from considering how vile are the things of this world, and
how precious are interior things, with which nothing can be
compared, she has attained to a contempt of the world.
26. As for the vision about which you, my father, wish to
THIRTEENTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del
1. Church of the Holy Spirit at Cordova, where St. Teresa, on her way to
Seville, heard Mass on the third day after Pentecost. 2. Commemorative altar
erected in this church in honour of this event. 3. Christopher de Roxas y Sandoval,
Archbishop of Seville. 4. Maria of St. Joseph, first Prioress of the monastery at
Seville. 5. Monastery of Discalced Carmelites of Our Lady of Redemption in the
suburb of Triana. 6. House Number 27, Saragossa street, bought as a monastery
for nuns by Lorenzo de Cepeda. 7. Entrance door of this house, showing the white
marble colonnade of the court. 8. Teresita de Cepeda, the Saint's niece, in the
ST. JOSEPH AT SEVILLE.
XIX.
Bruges. P. Raoux Sc
dress which she wore in the monastery at Seville. 9. Reliquary in the form of a
triptych, embroidered by St. Teresa, and given by her to Fr. Pantoja, as a mark
of gratitude. 10. The Blessed Virgin and the Infant Jesus (exact size) embroidered
in one of the medallions of this tryptych. 11. Present Carmelite monastery, St.
Teresa street. Stall for selling asses' milk. Children playing with the paschal
lamb. 12. Arms of the Archbishop of Seville. 13. Arms of the family of Cerezo.
14. Arms of the Pantoja family. 15. Arms of the city of Seville. (See Appendix,
note 20.)
REL. VIII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 381
know something, it is of this kind : she sees nothing either out
wardly or inwardly, for the vision is not imaginary ; but, with
out seeing any thing, she understands what it is, and where it
is, more clearly than if she saw it, only nothing in particular
presents itself to her. She is like a person who feels that
another is close beside her; but because she is in the dark she
sees him not, yet is certain that he is there present. Still, this
comparison is not exact ; for he who is in the dark, in some way
or other, through hearing a noise or having seen that person
before, knows he is there, or knew it before ; but here there is
nothing of the kind, for without a word, inward or outward,
the soul clearly perceives who it is, where he is, and occasion
ally what he means.1 Why, or how, she perceives it, she
knoweth not; but so it is; and while it lasts, she cannot help
being aware of it. And when it is over, — though she may
wish ever so much to retain the image thereof, — she cannot
do it, for it is then clear to her that it would be, in that
case, an act of the imagination, not the vision itself, — that is
not in her power; and so it is with the supernatural things.
And it is from this it comes to pass that he in whom God works
these graces despises himself, and becomes more humble than
he was ever before, for he sees that this is a gift of God, and
that he can neither add to it nor take from it. The love and the
desire become greater of serving our Lord, who is so mighty
that He can do that which is more than our imagination can
conceive here, as there are things which men, however learned
they may be, can never know. Blessed for ever and ever be
He who bestows this ! Amen.
RELATION VIII.
ADDRESSED TO F. RODRIGO ALVAREZ.
1. THESE interior things of the spirit are so difficult to
describe, and, still more, in such a way as to be understood, —
the more so as they pass quickly away, — that, if obedience did
not help me, it would be a chance if I succeeded, especially in
such difficult things. I implore you, my father, to take for
granted that it is not in my mind to think this to be correct,
1 See Life, ch. xxvii. § 5.
382 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. vm.
for it may well be that I do not understand the matter; but
what I can assure you of is this, that I will speak of nothing I
have not had experience of at times, and, indeed, often.
2. I think it will please you, my father, if I begin by
discussing that which is at the root of supernatural things ;
for that which relates to devotion, tenderness, tears, and medi
tations, which is in our power here to acquire by the help of
our Lord, is understood.
3. The first prayer of which I was conscious, — in my
opinion, supernatural, — so I call that which no skill or effort
of ours, however much we labour, can attain to, though we
should prepare ourselves for it, and that preparation must be
of great service, — is a certain interior recollection1 of which the
soul is sensible ; the soul seems to have other senses within
itself then, which bear some likeness to the exterior senses it
possesses; and thus the soul, withdrawing into itself, seeks to
go away from the tumult of its outward senses, and accord
ingly it drags them away with itself; for it closes the eyes on
purpose that it may neither see, nor hear, nor understand any
thing but that whereon the soul is then intent, which is to be
able to converse with God alone. In this prayer there is no
suspension of the faculties and powers of the soul; it retains
the full use of them ; but the use of them is retained that they
may be occupied with God. This will be easily understood by
him whom our Lord shall have raised to this state ; but by him
whom He has not, not ; at least, such a one will have need of
many words and illustrations.
4. Out of this recollection grow a certain quietude and
inward peace most full of comfort ; for the soul is in such a
state that it does not seem to it that it wants any thing; for
even speaking wearies it, — I mean by this, vocal prayer vand
meditation ; it would do nothing but love. This lasts some
time, and even a long time.
5. Out of this prayer comes usually what is called a sleep
of the faculties ; but they are not so absorbed nor so suspended
as that it can be called a trance ; nor is it altogether union.
6. Sometimes, and even often, the soul is aware that the
will alone is in union ; and this it sees very clearly, — that
is, it seems so to it. The will is wholly intent upon God, and
the soul sees that it has no power to rest on, or do, any thing
else ; and at the same time the two other faculties are at
1 Inner Fortress, iv. ch. iii.
REL. VIII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 383
liberty to attend to other matters of the service of God, — in a
word, Martha and Mary are together.1 I asked Father Francis2
if this was a delusion, for it made me stupid; and his reply
was, that it often happened.
7. When all the faculties of the soul are in union, it is
a very different state of things; for they can then do nothing
whatever, because the understanding is as it were surprised.
The Avill loves more than the understanding knows; but the
understanding does not know that the will loves, nor what it is
doing, so as to be able in any way to speak of it. As to the
memory, the soul, I think, has none then, nor any power of
thinking, nor are the senses awake, but rather as lost, so that
the soul may be the more occupied with the object of its
fruition: so it seems to me. They are lost but for a brief
interval; it passes quickly away. By the wealth of humility,
and other virtues and desires, left in the soul after this may be
learnt how great the blessing is that flows from this grace,
but it cannot be told what it is; for, though the soul applies
itself to the understanding of it, it can neither understand nor
explain it. This, if it be real, is, in my opinion, the greatest
grace wrought by our Lord on this spiritual road, — at least,
it is one of the greatest.
8. Raptures and trance, in my opinion, are all one, only I
am in the habit of using the word trance instead of rapture
because the latter word frightens people; and, indeed, the
union of which I am speaking may also be called a trance.
The difference between union and trance is this, that the
latter lasts longer and is more visible outwardly, because the
breathing gradually diminishes, so that it becomes impossible
to speak or to open the eyes ; and though this very thing occurs
when the soul is in union, there is more violence in a trance,
for the natural warmth vanishes, I know not how, when the
rapture is deep ; and in all these kinds of prayer there is more
or less of this. When it is deep, as I was saying, the hands
become cold, and sometimes stiff and straight as pieces of
wood ; as to the body, if the rapture comes on when it is stand
ing or kneeling; it remains so;3 and the soul is so full of the
joy of that which our Lord is setting before it, that it seems
to forget to animate the body, and abandons it. If the rap
ture lasts, the nerves are made to feel it.
1 See Life, ch. xvii. § 5. 2 Compare Life, ch. xxiv. § 4.
8 See Life, ch. xx. § 23.
s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. VJIL
9. It seems to me that our Lord will have the soul know
more of that, the fruition of which it has, in a trance than in
union, and accordingly in a rapture the soul receives most
commonly certain revelations of His Majesty, and the effects
thereof on the soul are great, — a forgetfulness of self, through
the longing it has that God our Lord, who is so high, may be
known and praised. In my opinion, if the rapture be from
God, the soul cannot fail to obtain a deep conviction of its
own helplessness, and of its wretchedness and ingratitude, in
that it has not served Him who, of His own goodness only,
bestows upon it graces so great; for the feeling and the
sweetness are so high above all things that may be compared
therewith that, if the recollection of them did not pass away,
all the satisfactions of earth would be always loathsome to it ;
and hence comes the contempt for all the things of the world.
10. The difference between trance and transport1 is this,
—in a trance the soul gradually dies to outward things, losing
the senses and living unto God. A transport comes on by one
sole act of His Majesty, wrought in the innermost part of
the soul with such swiftness that it is as if the higher part
thereof were carried away, and the soul leaving the body.
Accordingly it requires courage at first to throw itself into
the arms of our Lord, that He may take it whithersoever He
will; for, until His Majesty establishes it in peace there
whither He is pleased to take it — by take it I mean the ad
mitting of it to the knowledge of deep things — it certainly
requires in the beginning to be firmly resolved to die for Him,
because the poor soul does not know what this means — that is,
at first. The virtues, as it seems to me, remain stronger after,
this, for there is a growth in detachment, and the power of
God, who is so mighty, is the more known, so that the soul
loves and fears Him. For so it is, He carries away the soul,
no longer in our power, as the true Lord thereof, which is
filled with a deep sorrow for having offended Him, and aston
ishment that it ever dared to offend a Majesty so great, with
an exceedingly earnest desire that none may henceforth of
fend Him, and that all may praise Him. This, I think, must
be the source of those very fervent desires for the salvation
of souls, and for some share therein, and for the due praising
of God.
* "Arrobamiento y arrebatamiento."
REL. VIII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 385
11. The flight of the spirit — I know not how to call it —
is a rising upwards from the very depths of the soul. I
remember only this comparison, and 1 made use of it before, as
you know, my father, in that writing where these and other
ways of prayer are explained at length,1 and such is my
memory that I forget things at once. It seems to me that
soul and spirit are one and the same thing; but only as a fire,
if it is great and ready for burning; so, like fire burning
rapidly, the soul, in that preparation of itself which is the
work of God, sends up a flame,- — the flame ascends on high,
but the fire thereof is the same as that below, nor does the
flame cease to be fire because it ascends : so here, in the soul,
something so subtile and so swift seems to issue from it,
that ascends to the higher part, and goes thither whither our
Lord wills. I cannot go further with the explanation; it
seems a flight, and I know of nothing else wherewith to com
pare it: I know that it cannot be mistaken, for it is most
evident when it occurs, and that it cannot be hindered.
12. This little bird of the spirit seems to have escaped
out of this wretchedness of the flesh, out of the prison of this
body, and now, disentangled therefrom, is able to be the more
intent on that which our Lord is giving it. The flight of the
spirit is something so fine, of such inestimable worth, as the
soul perceives it, that all delusion therein seems impossible, or
any thing of the kind, when it occurs. It was afterwards
that fear arose, because she who received this grace was so
wicked; for she saw what good reasons she had to be afraid
of every thing, though in her innermost soul there remained
an assurance and a confidence wherein she was able to live,
but not enough to make her cease from the anxiety she was in
not to be deceived.
13. By impetus I mean that desire which at times rushes
into the soul, without being preceded by prayer, and that
is most frequently the case ; it is a sudden remembering that
the soul is away from God, or of a word it has heard to that
effect. This remembering is occasionally so strong and vehe
ment that the soul in a moment becomes as if the reason were
gone, just like a person who suddenly hears most painful
tidings of which he knew not before, or is surprised; such
a one seems deprived of the power of collecting his thoughts
for his own comfort, and is as one lost. So is it in this state,
1 See Life, chs. xx. and xxi.
386 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. vm.
except that the suffering arises from this, that there abides in
the soul a conviction that it would be well worth dying in it.
It seems that whatever the soul then perceives does but
increase its sufferings, and that our Lord will have its whole
being find no comfort in any thing, nor remember that it is His
will that it should live : the soul seems to itself to be in great
and indescribable loneliness, and abandoned of all, because
the world, and all that is in it, gives it pain ; and because it
finds no companionship in any created thing, the soul seeks
its Creator alone, and this it sees to be impossible unless it
dies; and as it must not kill itself, it is dying to die, and there
is really a risk of death, and it sees itself hanging between
heaven and earth, not knowing what to do with itself. And
from time to time God gives it a certain knowledge of Himself,
that it may see what it loses, in a way so strange that no
explanation of it is possible ; and there is no pain in the
world — at least, I have felt none — that is equal or like unto
this, for if it lasts but half an hour the whole body is out of
joint, and the bones so racked, that I am not able to write
with my hands : the pains I endure are most grievous.1
14. But nothing of all this is felt till the impetus shall
have passed away. He to whom it comes has enough to do
in enduring that which is going on within him, nor do I believe
that he would feel if he were grievously tortured : he is in
possession of all his senses, can speak, and even observe ; walk
about he cannot, — the great blow of that love throws him
down to the ground. If we were to die to have this, it would
be of no use, for it cannot be except when God sends it. It
leaves great effects and blessings in the soul. Some learned
men say that it is this, others that it is that, but no one con
demns it. The Master-Father d'Avila wrote to me and said
it was good, and so say all. The soul clearly understands
that it is a great grace from our Lord ; were it to occur more
frequently, life would not last long.
15. The ordinary impetus is, that this desire of serving
God comes on with a certain tenderness, accompanied with
tears, out of a longing to depart from this land of exile ; but
as the soul retains its freedom, wherein it reflects that its living
on is according to our Lord's will, it takes comfort in that
thought, and offers its life to Him, beseeching Him that it may
last only for His glory. This done, it bears all.
1 Life, ch. xx. § 16; Inner Fortress, vi. c. xi.
REL. VIII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 387
16. Another prayer very common is a certain kind of
wounding;1 for it really seems to the soul as if an arrow
were thrust through the heart, or through itself. Thus it
causes great suffering, which makes the soul complain; but
the suffering is so sweet, that it wishes it never would end.
The suffering is not one of sense, neither is the wound phy
sical ; it is in the interior of the soul, without any appearance
of bodily pain ; but as I cannot explain it except by com
paring it with other pains, I make use of these clumsy ex
pressions, — for such they are when applied to this suffering.
I cannot, however, explain it in any other way. It is, there
fore, neither to be written of nor spoken of, because it is
impossible for any one to understand it who has not had
experience of it, — I mean, how far the pain can go; for the
pains of the spirit are very different from those of earth. I
gather, therefore, from this, that the souls in hell and purga
tory suffer more than we can imagine, by considering these
pains of the body.
17. At other times, this wound of love seems to issue
from the inmost depth of the soul ; great are the effects of it ;
and when our Lord does not inflict it, there is no help for it,
whatever we may do to obtain it; nor can it be avoided when
it is His pleasure to inflict it. The effects of it are those
longings after God, so quick and so fine that they cannot
be described; and when the soul sees itself hindered and
kept back from entering, as it desires, on the fruition of
God, it conceives a great loathing for the body, on which it
looks as a thick wall which hinders it from that fruition
which it then seems to have entered upon within itself, and
unhindered by the body. It then comprehends the great
evil that has befallen us through the sin of Adam in robbing
us of this liberty.2
18. This prayer I had before the raptures and the great
impetuosities I have been speaking of. I forgot to say that
these great impetuosities scarcely ever leave me, except
through a trance or great sweetness in our Lord, whereby He
comforts the soul, and gives it courage to live on for His sake.
19. All this that I speak of cannot be the effect of the
imagination ; and I have some reasons for saying this, but it
would be wearisome to enter on them : whether it be good or
1 See Life, ch. xxix. § 16.
' Life, ch. xvii. § 9.
388 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. vm.
not is known to our Lord. The effects thereof, and how it
profits the soul, pass all comprehension, as it seems to me.
20. I see clearly that the Persons are distinct, as I saw
it yesterday when you, my father, were talking to the Father-
Provincial ; only I saw nothing, and heard nothing, as, my
father, I have already told you. But there is a strange cer
tainty about it, though the eyes of the soul see nothing;
and when the Presence is withdrawn, that withdrawal is felt.
How it is, I know not; but I do know very well that it is
not an imagination, because I cannot reproduce the vision
when it is over, even if I were to perish in the effort; but
I have tried to do so. So is it with all that I have spoken of
here, so far as I can see ; for, as I have been in this state for
so many years, I have been able to observe, so that I can
say so with this confidence. The truth is, — and you, my father,
should attend to this, — that, as to the Person who always
speaks, I can certainly say which of Them He seems to me
to be ; of- the others I cannot say so much. One of Them I
know well has never spoken. I never knew why, nor do I busy
myself in asking more of God than He is pleased to give, be
cause in that case, I believe, I should be deluded by Satan
at once; nor will I ask now, because of the fear I am in.
21. I think the First spoke to me at times ; but, as I do not
remember that very well now, nor what it was that He spoke,
I will not venture to say so. It is all written, — you, my
father, know where, — and more at large than it is here ; I
know not whether in the same words or not.1 Though the
Persons are distinct in a strange way, the soul knows One
only God. I do not remember that our Lord ever seemed to
speak to me but in His Human Nature ; and — I say it again
— I can assure you that this is no imagination.
22. What, my father, you say about the water, I know
not; nor have I heard where the earthly paradise is. I have
already said that I cannot but listen to what our Lord tells
me; I hear it because I cannot help myself; but, as for asking
His Majesty to reveal any thing to me, that is what I have
never done. In that case, I should immediately think I was
imagining things, and that I must be in a delusion of Satan.
God be praised, I have never been curious about things, and
I do not care to know more than I do.2 What I have learnt,
' See Relation in. § 6.
'' See S. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch. xxii.
KEL. IX.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 389
without seeking to learn, as I have just said, has been a
great trouble to me, though it has been the means, I believe
which our Lord made use of to save me, seeing that I was so
wicked; good people do not need so much to make them
serve His Majesty.
23. I remember another way of prayer which I had
before the one I mentioned first, — namely, a presence of
God, which is not a vision at all. It seems that any one, if
he recommends himself to His Majesty, even if he only prays
vocally, finds Him; every one, at all times, can do this, if
we except seasons of aridity. May He grant I may not by
my own fault lose mercies so great, and may He have com
passion on me !
RELATION IX.
OF CERTAIN SPIRITUAL GRACES SHE RECEIVED IN TOLEDO AND
AVILA IN THE YEARS 1576 AND 1577.
1. I HAD begun to go to confessicn to a certain person1
in the city wherein I am at present staying, when he, though
he had much good will towards me, and always has had
since he took upon himself the charge of my soul, ceased to
come here ; and one night, when I was in prayer, and think
ing how he failed me, I understood that God kept him from
coming because it was expedient for me to treat of the affairs
of my soul with a certain person on the spot.2 I was dis
tressed because I had to form new relations — it might be
he would not understand me, and would disturb me — and
because I had a great affection for him who did me this
charity, though I was always spiritually content when I saw
or heard the latter preach; also, I thought it would not do
because of his many occupations. Our Lord said to me: "I
will cause him to hear and understand thee. Make thyself
known unto him ; it will be some relief to thee in thy troubles."
3 F. Yepes, then prior of S. Jerome's, Toledo (De la Fuente).
* Don Alonzo Velasquez, canon of Toledo, to whom Relation xi.
is addressed. The Saint speaks of this in a letter to Fra Gratian in
1576. The letter is numbered 82 in the edition of Don Vicente, and 23
in the fourth volume of the edition of Doblado.
390 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. ix.
The latter part was addressed to me, I think, because I was
then so worn out by the absence of God. His Majesty also
said that He saw very well the trouble I was in; but it could
not be otherwise while I lived in this land of exile : all was
for my good. And he comforted me greatly. So it has been :
he comforts me, and seeks opportunities to do so ; he has
understood me, and given me great relief; he is a most learned
and holy man.
2. One day, — it was the Feast of the Presentation, — I
was praying earnestly to God for a certain person, and think
ing that after all the possession of property and of freedom
was unfitting for that high sanctity which I wished him to
attain to; I reflected on his weak health, and on the spiritual
health which he communicated to souls ; and I heard these
words : "He serves Me greatly ; but the great thing is to
follow Me stripped of every thing, as I was on the cross.
Tell him to trust in Me." These last words were said be
cause I thought he could not, with his weak health, attain to
such perfection.
3. Once, when I was thinking of the pain it was to me
to take my food and do no penance, I understood that there
was at times more of self-love in that feeling than of a desire
for penance.
4. Once, when I was in great distress because of my
offences against God, He said to me : "All thy sins in My
sight are as if they were not. For the future, be strong; for
thy troubles are not over."
5. One day, in prayer, I felt my soul in God in such a
way that it seemed to me as if the world did not exist, I was
so absorbed in Him. He made me then understand that
verse of the Magnificat, "And my spirit rejoices," so that
I can never forget it.
6. Once, when I was thinking how people sought to
destroy this monastery of the Barefooted Carmelites, and
that they purposed, perhaps, to bring about the destruction
of them all by degrees, I heard : "They do purpose it ; never
theless, they will never see it done, but very much the reverse."
7. Once, in deep recollection, I was praying to God for
Eliseus j1 I heard this : "He is My true son ; I will never fail
him/' or to that effect ; but I am not sure of the latter words.
1 Fra Jerome Gratian (De la Fuente).
REL. IX.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 391
8. Having one day conversed with a person who had
given up much for God, and calling to mind that I had given
up nothing for Him, and had never served Him in any
thing, as I was bound to do, and then considering the
many graces He had wrought in my soul, I began to be exceed
ingly weary ; and our Lord said to me : "Thou knowest of
the bethrothal between thee and Myself, and therefore all
I have is thine ; and so I give thee all the labours and sorrows
I endured, and thou canst therefore ask of My Father as if
they were thine." Though I have heard that we are partakers
therein,1 now it was in a way so different that it seemed as
if I had become possessed of a great principality ; for the
affection with which He wrought this grace cannot be de
scribed. The Father seemed to ratify the gift; and from
that time forth I look at our Lord's Passion in a very different
light, as on something that belongs to me; and that gives
me great comfort.2
9. On the Feast of the Magdalene, when thinking of
the great love I am bound to have for our Lord, according
to the words He spoke to me in reference to this Saint, and
having great desires to imitate her, our Lord was very
gracious unto me, and said, I was to be henceforth strong;
for I had to serve Him more than I had hitherto done.3 He
filled me with a desire not to die so soon, that I might have
the time to occupy myself therein ; and I remained with a
great resolution to suffer.
10. On one occasion, I understood how our Lord was in
all things, and how He was in the soul ; and the illustration
of a sponge filled with water was suggested to me.
11. When my brothers came, — and I owe so much to
one of them,4 — I remained in conversation with him con
cerning his soul and his affairs, which wearied and distressed
me ; and as I was offering this up to our Lord, and thinking
that I did it all because I was under obligations to him, I
1 1 S. Pet. iv. 13.
2 This took place in 1575, when she was going to found her monas
tery in Seville (Ribera, iv. 10).
3 See § 3, above.
4 This was in 1575, when the Saint was founding the monastery of
Seville; and the brother was Don Lorenzo, returned from the Indies,
and who now placed himself under the direction of his sister (De la
Fuente}.
392 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. ix.
remembered that by our Constitutions1 we are commanded
to separate ourselves from our kindred, and I was set think
ing whether I was under any obligation, our Lord said to
me: ''No, My daughter; the regulations of the Order must
be only in conformity with My law." The truth is, that
the end of the Constitutions is, that we are not to be attached
to our kindred; and to converse with them, as it seems to
me, is rather wearisome, and it is painful to have any thing
to do with them.
12. After Communion, on S. Augustine's Day, I under
stood, and, as it were, saw, — I cannot tell how, unless it was
by an intellectual vision which passed rapidly away, — how
the Three Persons of the most Holy Trinity, whom I have
always imprinted in my soul, are One. This was revealed in
a representation so strange, and in a light so clear, that the
impression made upon me was very different from that
which I have by faith. From that time forth I have never
been able to think of One of the Three Divine Persons with
out thinking of the Three; so that to-day, when I was con
sidering how, the Three being One, the Son alone took our
flesh upon Him, our Lord showed me how, though They are
One, They are also distinct. These are marvels which make
the soul desire anew to be rid of the hindrance which the
body interposes between it and the fruition of them. Though
this passes away in a moment, there remains a gain to the
soul incomparably greater than any it might have made by
meditation during many years; and all without knowing
how it happens.
13. I have a special joy on the Feast of our Lady's
Nativity. When this day was come, I thought it would be
well to renew our vows; and thereupon I saw our Lady, by
an illuminative vision; and it seemed as if we made them
before her, and that they were pleasing unto her. I had
this vision constantly for some days, and our Lady was
by me on my left hand. One day, after Communion, it
seemed to me that my soul was really one with the most
Holy Body of our Lord, then present before me; and that
wrought a great work and blessing in me.
14. I was once thinking whether I was to be sent to
1 In the chapter "De la Clausura," § 3: "De trater con deudos
se desvien lo mas que pudieren."
REL. IX.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 393
reform a certain monastery;1 and, distressed at it, I heard:
"What art thou afraid of? What canst thou lose? — only thy
life, which thou hast so often offered to Me. I will help thee."
This was in prayer, which was of such a nature as to ease
my soul exceedingly.
15. Once, having a desire to render some service to our
Lord, I considered that I could serve Him but poorly, and
said to myself: "Why, O Lord, dost Thou desire my works?"
And He answered: "To see thy good will, My child."
16. Once our Lord gave me light in a matter that I was
very glad to understand, and I immediately forgot it, so that
I was never able to call it again to mind ; and so when I
was trying to remember it, I heard: "Thou knowest now
that I speak to thee from time to time. Do not omit to
write down what I say; for, though it may not profit thee,
it may be that it will profit others." As I was thinking
whether I, for my sins, had to be of use to others, and be
lost myself, He said to me : "Have no fear."
17. I was once recollected in that companionship which
I ever have in my soul, and it seemed to me that God was
present therein in such a way that I remembered how S.
Peter said : "Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God ;"2
for the living God was in my soul. This is not like other
visions, for it overpowers faith ; so that it is impossible to
doubt of the indwelling of the Trinity in our souls by pres
ence, power, and essence. To know this truth is of the very
highest gain; and as I stood amazed to see His Majesty in
a thing so vile as my soul, I heard: "It is not vile, My child,
for it is made in my image."3 I also learnt something of
the reason why God delights in souls more than in any other
creatures : it is so subtile that, though the understanding
quickly comprehended it, I cannot tell it.
18. When I was in such distress, because of the troubles
of our father,4 that I had no rest, and after Communion one
day was making most earnestly my petition to our Lord that,
1 The monastery of Paterna, of the unreformed Carmelites. This
was in 1576 (De la Fuente*).
2 S. Matt. xvi. 16. 3 Gen. i. 26.
* Fra Jerome Gratian. This took place during the persecution that
fell on the reformed Carmelites at the end of the year 1575, and
during the following year. See the last paragraph of this Relation
(De la Fnente. See also Relation, vi. § 1.).
394 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. ix.
as He had given him to me, I might not lose him, He said to
me: "Have no fear."
19. Once, with that presence of the Three Persons which
I have in my soul, I was in light so clear that no doubt of the
presence of the true and living God was possible; and I then
came to the knowledge of things 'which afterwards I could
not speak of. One of these things was, how the person of
the Son only took human flesh. I cannot, as I have just
said, explain it at all ; for some of these things were wrought
in the secret recesses of the soul, and the understanding seems
to grasp them only as one who in his sleep, or half awake,
thinks he comprehends what is told him. I was thinking
how hard it was to remain alive, seeing that it was living
on that robbed us of that marvellous companionship ; and so
I said to myself: "O Lord, show me some way whereby I
may bear this life!" He said unto me: "Think, My child,
when life is over, thou canst not serve Me as thou art serving
Me now, and eat for Me, and sleep for Me. Whatsoever thou
doest, let it be done for Me as if thou wert no longer living,
but I; for that is what S. Paul said."1
20. Once, after Communion, I saw how His Father within
our soul accepts the most Holy Body of Christ. I have under
stood and seen how the Divine Persons are there, and how
pleasing is this offering of His Son, because He has His joy
and delight in Him, so to speak, here on earth; for it is not
the Humanity only that is with us in our souls, but the
Divinity as well, and thus is it so pleasing and acceptable
unto Him, and gives us graces so great. I understood also
that He accepts the sacrifice, though the priest be in sin; but
then the grace of it is not communicated to his soul as it is
to their souls who are in a state of grace: not that the in
flowings of grace, which proceed from this Communion
wherein the Father accepts the sacrifice, cease to flow in
their strength, but because of his fault who has to receive
them ; as it is not the fault of the sun that it does not
illumine a lump of pitch, when its rays strike it, as it
illumines a globe of crystal. If I could now describe it, I
should be better understood; it is a great matter to know
this, because there are grand secrets within us when we are
at Communion. It is sad that these bodies of ours do not
allow us to have the fruition thereof.
1 Galat. ii. 20.
REL. IX.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE, 395
21. During the Octave of All Saints,1 I had two or
three days of exceeding anguish, the result of my remem
brance of my great sins, and I was also in great dread of
persecutions, which had no foundation except that great
accusations were brought against me, and all my resolutions
to suffer any thing for God failed me : though I sought to
encourage myself, and made corresponding acts, and saw that
all would be a great gain for me, it was to little purpose, for
the fear never left me. It was a sharp warfare. I came
across a letter, in which my good father2 had written that
S. Paul said that God does not suffer us to be tempted beyond
our power to bear.3 This was a very great relief to me,
but was not enough; yea, rather, on the next day I was in
great distress at his absence, for I had no one to go to in
this trouble, for I seemed to be living in great loneliness.
And it added to my grief to see that I now find no one but
him who can comfort me, and he must be more than ever
away, which is a very sore trouble.
22. The next night after this, reading in a book, I found
another saying of S. Paul, with which I began to be com
forted; and being slightly recollected, I remained thinking
how I had our Lord before present within me, so that I
truly saw Him to be the living God. While thinking on this
He spoke to me, and I saw Him in my inmost being, as it
were beside my heart, in an intellectual vision ; His words
were : "I am here, only I will have thee see how little thou
canst do without Me." I was on the instant reassured, and
all my fears left me ; and while at Matins that very night our
Lord Himself, in an intellectual vision so clear as to seem
almost imaginary, laid Himself in my arms, as He is painted
in the pictures of our Lady of Anguish.4 The vision made
me very much afraid, for it was so clear, and so close to me,
that it made me think whether it was an illusion or not. He
said to me, "Be not afraid of it, for the union of My Father
with thy soul is incomparably closer than this." The vision
1 A. D. 1577 (De la Fuente}. * Jerome Gratian («tt).
3 1 Cor. x. 13.
4 Don Vicente says, that here is a proof — if any were wanting —
that the Saint wrote this after her sojourn in Seville; because in
Avila and in Castile and Aragon the expression is, "our Lady of
Dolors;" while in Andalucia it is our Lady of Anguish — "Nuestra
Sefiora de las Angustias."
396 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. ix.
has remained with me till now. What I have said of our
Lord continued more than a month : now it has left me.
23. I was one night in great distress, because it was then
a long time since I had heard any thing of my father;1 and,
moreover, he was not well the last time he wrote to me. How
ever, my distress was not so great as that I felt before, io: I
had hopes, and distress like that I never was in since; but
still my anxiety hindered my prayer. He appeared to me on
the instant; it could not have been the effect of imagination,
for I saw a light within me, and himself coming by the way
joyous, with a face all fair. It must have been the light I
saw that made his face fair, for all the saints in heaven seem
so; and I considered whether it be the light and splendour pro
ceeding from our Lord that renders them thus fair. I heard
this: "Tell him to begin at once without fear, for the victory
is his."
24. One day, after he came, when I was at night giving
thanks to our Lord for the many mercies He had given unto
me, He said to me: "O my child, what canst thou ask that
I have not done?"
25. Our Lord said to me one day, in the monastery of
Veas, that I was to present my petition to Him, for I was His
bride. He promised to grant whatever I might ask of Him,
and, as a pledge, gave me a very beautiful ring, with a stone
set in it like an amethyst, but of a brilliancy very unlike,
which He put on my ringer. I write this to my own con
fusion, considering the goodness of God, and my wretched
life ; for I have deserved hell. Ah, my daughters, pray to God
for me, and be devout to S. Joseph, who can do much. This
folly I write. . . .folly I write •
26. On the eve of S. Laurence, at Communion, I was so
distracted and dissipated in mind, that I had no power over it,
and began to envy those who dwell in desert places ; thinking
that, as they see and hear nothing, they are exempt from dis
tractions. I heard this: "Thou are greatly deceived, My
daughter; on the contrary, the temptations of Satan are more
violent there. Have patience ; while life lasts, it cannot be
helped." While dwelling on this, I became suddenly recol
lected, and I saw a great light within me, so that I thought I
was in another world, and my spirit found itself interiorly in a
forest and in a garden of delights, which made me remember
1 Fra Jerome Gratian.
KEL. IX.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 397
those words of the Canticle:1 "Let my beloved come into his
garden." I saw my Eliseus2 there, not at all swarthy, but in
strange beauty : around his head was a garland of precious
stones ; a multitude of damsels went before him with palms in
their hands, all singing hymns of praise unto God. I did
nothing but open my eyes, to see whether I could not distract
myself from the vision, but that failed to divert my attention ;
and I thought there was music also, — the singing of birds and
of angels, — which filled my soul with joy, though I did not
hear any. My soul was in joy, and did not consider that there
was nobody else there. I heard these words : "He has merited
to be among you, and all this rejoicing which thou beholdest
will take place on the day he shall set aside for the honour of
My Mother ;3 and do thou make haste, if thou wouldst reach
the place where he is." This vision lasted more than an hour
and a half. In this respect — differently from my other visions
—I could not turn away from it, and it filled me with de
light. The effect of the vision was a great affection for
Eliseus, and a more frequent thinking of him in that beauty.
I have had a fear of its being a temptation, for work of the
imagination it could not possibly be.4
27. The day after the presentation of the Brief,5 as I was
in the most eager expectation, which utterly disturbed me, so
that I could not even pray, — for I had been told that our father
was in great straits because they would not let him come away,
and that there was a great tumult, — I heard these words :
"O woman of little faith, be quiet; every thing is going on
perfectly well." It was the Feast of the Presentation of our
Lady, in the year 1575. I resolved within myself, if our Lady
obtained from her Son that we might see ourselves and our
1 Cant. v. 1.
8 This was the name given to Fra Jerome Gratian, when the
Saint was driven, by the persecution raised against her, to distinguish
her friends by other designations than those by which they were
usually known: this fragment cannot have been written before the
year 1578 (De la Fuente).
3 See the last section.
4 Don Vicente published §§ 25 and 26 as fragments separately (vol.
i. pp. 524-526); but, as they seem to form a part of the series of events
spoken of in this Relation, they have been placed here.
8 Fra Jerome Gratian exhibited the Brief which made him Visitor-
Apostolic to the unreformed Carmelites, who were very angry thereat,
and rude in their vexation.
398 s, TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. x.
father free of these friars, to ask him to order the solemn
celebration of that feast every year in our monasteries of the
Barefooted Carmelites. When I made this resolution, I did
not remember what I had heard in a former vision, that he
would establish this solemnity. Now, in reading again this
little paper, I think this must be the feast referred to.1
RELATION X.
OF A REVELATION TO THE SAINT AT AVILA, 1579, AND OF
CERTAIN DIRECTIONS CONCERNING THE GOVERNMENT OF
THE ORDER.
IN S. Joseph of Avila, on Pentecost eve, in the hermitage
of Nazareth, thinking of one of the greatest graces our Lord
had given me on that day some twenty years before,2 more or
less, my spirit was vehemently stirred and grew hot within
me,3 and I fell into a trance. In that profound recollection I
heard our Lord say what I am now going to tell : I was to say
to the Barefooted Fathers, as from Him, that they must
strive to observe four things; and that so long as they ob
served them, the Order would increase more and more; and
if they neglected them, they should know that they were
falling away from their first estate.
The first is, the superiors of the monasteries are to be of
one mind.
The second, even if they have many monasteries, to have
but few friars in each.
The third, to converse little with people in the world,
and that only for the good of their souls.
The fourth, to teach more by works than by words.
This happened in the year 1579; and because it is a great
truth, I have put my name to it.
TERESA DE JESUS.
1 See § 26. * See Life, ch. xxxviii. § 1. » Ps. xxxix. 3.
REL. XI.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 399
RELATION XL
WRITTEN FROM PALENCIA IN MAY 1581, AND ADDRESSED TO
DON ALONZO VELASQUEZ, BISHOP OF OSMA, WHO HAD BEEN,
WHEN CANON OF TOLEDO, ONE OF THE SAINT'S CONFESSORS.1
JESUS.
1. OH, that I could clearly explain to your Lordship the
peace and quiet my soul has found ! for it has so great a cer
tainty of the fruition of God, that it seems to be as if already
in possession,2 though the joy is withheld. I am as one to
whom another has granted by deed a large revenue, into the
enjoyment and use of which he is to come at a certain time,
but until then has nothing but the right already given him
to the revenue. In gratitude for this, my soul would abstain
from the joy of it, because it has not deserved it; it wishes
only to serve Him, even if in great suffering, and at times
it thinks it would be very little if, till the end of the world,
it had to serve Him who has given it this right ; for, in truth, it
is in some measure no longer subject, as before, to the miseries
of this world ; though it suffers more, it seems as if only
the habit were struck, for my soul is, as it were, in a fortress
with authority, and accordingly does not lose its peace. Still,
this confidence does not remove from it its great fear of
offending God, nor make it less careful to put away every
hindrance to His service, yea, rather, it is more careful than
before. But it is so forgetful of its own interests as to seem,
in some measure, to have lost itself, so forgetful of self is it
in this. Every thing is directed to the honour of God, to the
doing of His will more and more, and the advancement of
His glory.
2. Though this be so, yet, in all that relates to health and
the care of the body, it seems to me that I am more careful
1 This relation is usually printed among the letters of the Saint,
and Don Vicente did not change the practice, assigning as his reason
the Saint's reference in § 4 to certain transactions in which she was
engaged. The letter is the 333d, and the 4th of vol. ii. ed Doblado,
and is probably the latest account of the state of her soul, for she died
on October 4 in the following year.
2 See Inner Fortress, vii. ch. ii.
400 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. xi.
than I was, that I mortify myself less in my food, and do fewer
penances : it is not so with the desires I had ; they seem to be
greater. All this is done that I may be the better able to
serve God in other things, for I offer to Him very often, as
a great sacrifice, the care I take of my body, and that wearies
me much, and I try it sometimes in acts of mortification;
but, after all, this cannot be done without losing health,
and I must not neglect what my superiors command. Herein,
and in the wish for health, much self-love also must insinuate
itself; but, as it seems to me, I feel that if it would give me
more pleasure, and it gave me more pleasure when I was
strong, to do penance, for, at least, I seemed to be doing
something, and was giving a good example, and I was free
from the vexation which arises out of the fact that I am not
serving God at all. Your Lordship will see what it will be
best to do in the matter.
3. The imaginary visions have ceased, but the intellectual
vision of the Three Persons and of the Sacred Humanity seems
ever present, and that, I believe, is a vision of a much higher
kind; and I understand now, so I think, that the visions I
had came from God, because they prepared my soul for its
present state ; they were given only because I was so wretched
and so weak : God led me by the way which He saw was
necessary ; but they are, in my opinion, of great worth when
they come from God.
4. The interior locutions have not left me, for, whenever
it is necessary, our-Lord gives me certain directions; and now,
in Palencia, were it not for these, there would have been
committed a great blunder, though not a sin.1
5. The acts and desires do not seem to be so vigorous as
they used to be, for, though they are great, I have one much
greater to see the will of God accomplished and His glory
increased; for as the soul is well aware that His Majesty
knoweth what is expedient herein, and is so far removed
from all self-seeking, these acts and desires quickly end, and,
as it seems to me, have no strength. Hence the fear I have
at times, though without disquietude and pain as formerly,
that my soul is dulled, and that I am doing nothing, because
I can do no penance ; acts of desire for suffering, for mar
tyrdom, and of the vision of God, have no strength in them,
1 This relates to the taking of the hermitage of our Lady de la
Calle in Palencia (De la Fuente). See Foundations, ch. xxix.
REL. XI.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 401
and, most frequently, I cannot make them. I seem to live
only for eating and drinking, and avoiding pain in every
thing; and yet this gives me none, except that sometimes,
as I said before, I am afraid that this is a delusion; but I
cannot believe it, because, so far as I can see, I am not under
the sway of any strong attachment to any created thing, not
even to all the bliss of heaven, but only to the love of God;
and this does not grow less, — on the contrary, I believe it is
growing, together with the longing that all men may serve
Him.
6. But, for all this, one thing amazes me : I have not the
feelings I had formerly, so strong and so interior, which tor
mented me when I saw souls go to their ruin, and when I used
to think I had offended God. I cannot have these feelings
now, though I believe my desire that God be not sinned
against is not less than it was.
7. Your Lordship must consider that in all this, in my
present as well as in my previous state, I can do no more, and
that it is not in my power to serve Him better: I might do so,
if I were not so wicked. I may say, also, that if I were now to
make great efforts to wish to die, I could not, nor can I make
the acts I used to make, nor feel the pains I felt for having
offended God, nor the great fears I had for so many years
when I thought I was under a delusion : and accordingly I
have no need of learned men, or of speaking to any body at
all, only to satisfy myself that I am going the right road now,
and whether I can do any thing. I have consulted certain
persons on this point, with whom I had taken counsel on the
others, with Fra Dominic, the Master Medina, and certain
members of the Society. I will be satisfied with the answer
which you, my Lord, may give me, because of the great trust
I have in your Lordship. Consider it carefully, for the love
of God ! Neither do I cease to learn that certain souls of
people connected with me when they died are in heaven :
of others I learn nothing. La soledad que me hace pensar no se
puede dar aquel sentido a el que mama los pechos de mi
madre, la ida de Egito!1
8. I am at peace within ; and my likings and dislikings
have so little power to take from me the Presence of the Three
1 This passage, Don Vicente observes, was omitted in all editions
prior to his: he does not know what it means; and the translator can
give no corresponding English words.
402 s. TERESA'S RELATIONS [REL. xi.
Persons, of which, while it continues, it is so impossible to
doubt, that I seem clearly to know by experience what is re
corded by S. John, that God will make His dwelling in the
soul:1 and not only by grace, but because He will have the
soul feel that presence, and it brings with it so many blessings,
particularly this, that there is no need to run after reflections
to learn that God is there. This is almost always the state I
am in, except when my great infirmities oppress me. Some
times God will have me suffer without any inward comfort;
but my will never swerves— not even in its first movements—
from the will of God. This resignation to His will is so effi
cacious, that I desire neither life nor death, except for some
moments, when I long to see Gcd ; and then the Presence of
the Three Persons becomes so distinct as to relieve the pain of
the absence, and I wish to live— if such be His good pleasure
—to serve Him still longer. And if I might help, by my
prayers, to make but one soul love Him more, and praise Him,
and that only for a short time, I think that of more importance
than to dwell in glory.
The unworthy servant and daughter
of your Lordship,
TERESA DE JESUS.
1 S. John xiv. 23.
BOOK
OF
THE FOUNDATIONS OF S. TERESA.
WRITTEN BY HERSELF.
BOOK
OF
THE FOUNDATIONS OF S. TERESA.
WRITTEN BY HERSELF.
PROLOGUE.
1. EXPERIENCE has shown me — setting that aside which
I have read in many places — the great blessing it is for a soul
never to withdraw from under obedience. Herein lie, in my
opinion, growth in goodness and the gaining of humility.
Herein lies our security amidst the doubts whether we are not
straying from the heavenly road, which, as mortal men, it
is right we should have while we are living here on earth.
Herein is found that rest which is so dear to souls desirous
of pleasing God ; for, if they have really resigned themselves
to holy obedience, and have made their understanding cap
tive thereto, seeking no other will but that of their confessor,
and if religious that of their superior, Satan refrains from
assailing them with his continual suspicions, seeing that he
loses rather than gains thereby. Moreover, our restless move
ments, fond of having their own way, and even of making
the reason subject to them in those things which can give us
pleasure, cease, being reminded that the will is definitely given
up to the will of God, through that subjection of self to him
who stands in His place. As His Majesty of His goodness has
given me light to see the great treasure hidden in this priceless
virtue, I have laboured, however weakly and imperfectly, to
possess myself of it, though the work is often irksome, because
of the little goodness I behold in myself ; for I see that it does
not reach to some things which I have been commanded to do.
(405)
406 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS.
May His Divine Majesty supply my shortcomings in the work
now before me !
2. In the year 1562 — the very year in which this house
of S. Joseph in Avila was founded — I was ordered, when in
that house, by my confessor, the Dominican friar father Garcia
of Toledo, to write the history of the foundation of the monas
tery, together with other matters, which any one, if it is ever
published, may see. I am now in Salamanca, in the year
1573 — eleven years have passed since then — and my confessor,
the master Ripalda, father rector of the Society, has ordered
me to write. He, having seen the book containing the story
of the first foundation,1 thought it would be a service done to
our Lord if I committed to writing the story of the other
seven2 monasteries which, by the goodness of our Lord, have
since that time been founded, and told at the same time how
the monasteries of the barefooted fathers of the primitive
rule began. While I was looking on it as a thing impossible
for me, because of the many things I had to do — I had letters
to write and matters to transact, from which I could not
release myself, because they were assigned me by the com
mandment of my superiors — and I was praying to God there
upon, and somewhat distressed, because I was able to do so
little, because my health was so weak — for even without this
additional labour I seemed very often, and I am naturally
worthless, unable to bear my burden, our Lord said to me,
"Child, obedience gives strength."3 May it please His Majesty
it may be so, and may He give me grace to enable me to
relate, to His glory, the great things He hath done for the
order in these foundations.
3. It may he held for certain that everything will be
truly told, without any exaggeration whatever, to the best
of my knowledge, exactly as it happened ; for in matters even
of the least importance I wrould not tell a lie for anything
on this earth.4 In this my writing — to the praise of our
1 The history of the foundation of the monastery of S. Joseph in
Avila begins with ch. xxxii. § 13, of the Life, p. 244.
2 The seventh monastery was that of Alba de Tormes, and the
history of that foundation is given in ch. xx. But it is the seventh
including S. Joseph's, and the Saint may have been thinking of
Duruelo, the house of her friars.
5 See Life, ch. xviii. § 10.
4 Life, ch. xxviii. § 6.
PROLOGUE. 407
Lord — an untruth would be a heavy burden on my conscience,
and I should believe it to be not merely a wasting of time,
but a deceiving of others in the things of God, who would be
offended, not honoured, thereby : it would be an act of high
treason. May it please His Majesty not to abandon me, that
I may not fall into that evil.
4. Each foundation shall have its own story, and I shall
try to be brief if I can; but my style is so heavy, that even
against my will I fear I shall be tedious to others and to
myself. However, my daughters, to whom it is to be given
when my days are ended, will be able to bear with it out of
the love they have for me. May our Lord grant, for I seek
nothing for myself, and have no right to do so, but only His
praise and glory — for there are many things to be written
here for which men should praise Him — that they who shall
read it may be very far from attributing anything I have done
to myself, for that would be against the truth ; let them rather
pray to His Majesty to forgive me who have profited so little
by all His mercies. My children have much more reason to
complain of me herein than they have to thank me for what I
have done. Let us give all our thanks, my children, to the
Divine Goodness for the many graces He has given us. I ask,
for the love of God, one Ave Maria of every one who shall
read this, that it may help me out of purgatory, and to arrive
at the vision of Jesus Christ our Lord, who with the Father
and the Holy Ghost liveth and reigneth for ever and ever.
Amen.
5. I believe much that is very important will be left
untold, because of the weakness of my memory ; and other
things will be told which may well be forgotten : in a word, it
will be all in keeping with my scanty abilities and dulness,
and also with my little leisure for writing.
6. They bid me also, if I have the opportunity, to speak
of prayer, and of the delusions incident thereto which keep
men of prayer from making progress. I submit myself in
everything to the teaching of the Holy Mother Church of
Rome, and am resolved that learned and spiritual men shall
see it before it shall reach your hands, my sisters and my
children.
I begin in the name of our Lord, invoking the help of
His glorious Mother, whose habit I wear, though unworthy of
it, and of my glorious father and lord. S. Joseph, in whose
408 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS.
house I am : for this monastery of barefooted nuns is under
his protection, by whose prayers I am continually helped. In
the year MDLXXIII, the twenty-fourth day of August, the
feast of saint Lewis, king of France.
Praise be to God.
CH. I.] MEDINA DEL CAMPO. 409
Here beginneth the Foundation of S. Joseph of the
Carmel of Medina del Campo.
CHAPTER I.
HOW THIS AND THE OTHER FOUNDATIONS CAME TO BE MADE.
1. I REMAINED five years after its foundation in the
house of S. Joseph, Avila, and I believe, so far as I can see
at present, that they were the most tranquil years of my
life, the calm and rest of which my soul very often greatly
misses. During that time certain young persons entered it
as religious, whose years were not many, but whom the
world, as it seemed, had already made its own, if we might
judge of them by their outward manners and dress. Our
Lord very quickly set them free from their vanities, drew
them into His own house, and endowed them with a per
fection so great as to make me very much ashamed of myself.
We were thirteen in number, which is the number we had
resolved never to exceed.1 I took my delight in souls so pure
and holy, whose only anxiety was to praise and serve our
Lord. His Majesty sent us everything we had need of with
out our asking for it ; and whenever we were in want, which
was very rarely, their joy was then the greater. I used to
praise our Lord at the sight of virtues so high, especially for
the disregard of everything but His service.2
2. I, who was prioress there, do not remember that I
ever had any thoughts about our necessities, for I was per
suaded that our Lord would never fail those who had no
other care but that of pleasing Him. And if now and then
there was not sufficient food for us all, on my saying that
what we had was for those who wanted it most, not one of
1 See Life, ch. xxxii. § 16, and ch. xxxvi. § 31.
2 See Life, ch. xxxix. § 14.
410 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. I.
them would think that she was in need ; and so it remained till
God sent enough for all. As for the virtue of obedience, for
which I have a very great attraction — though I knew not how
to observe it till these servants of God taught me, so that I
could not be ignorant of it if there had been any goodness
in me — I could tell much that I saw in them. One thing
I remember, which is this : once in the refectory we had
cucumbers given us for our portions, and to me a very small
one, rotten within. Pretending not to be aware of this, I
called a sister,1 one of the most able and sensible in the
house, and, to try her obedience, told her to go and plant
it in a little garden we had. She asked me whether it was
to be planted endways or sideways. I told her sideways.
She went and planted it, without thinking that it could not
possibly fail to die. The fact that she was acting under
obedience made her natural reason blind in the service of
Christ, so that she believed that what she did was perfectly
right. I happened also to charge another with six or seven
offices inconsistent with each other, all of which she accepted
without saying a word, thinking it possible for her to dis
charge them.
3. We had a well, the water in which was very bad
according to their account who tested it, out of which, because
it was very deep, it seemed impossible to make the water
flow. I sent for workmen to make a trial, who laughed at
me because I was going to throw money away. I said to
my sisters, "What think you of it?" One of them answered,
"Let us try. Our Lord must find some one to supply us
with water and give us food; now, it will cost His Majesty
less to find water for us in the house, and He will therefore
not fail to do it."2 Considering the great faith and resolu
tion with which she said this, I took it for granted it would
1 Maria Bautista, in the world Maria de Ocampo, the niece of the
Saint, who was with her in the monastery of the Incarnation, and who
offered a thousand ducats for the foundation of a house wherein
greater strictness might be observed (Life, ch. xxxii. § 13). She was
now a novice in S. Joseph's, and was afterwards prioress of Valladolid
(Reforma de los Dcscalqos, lib. i. ch. xxxv. § 6, and ch. Hi. § 9. See
also notes of Palafox on Letter 44, but Lett. 46, vol. i. ed. Doblado).
2 Maria Bautista, mentioned in the preceding note. The miracu
lous water flowed for eight years, and then, when the city of Avila
supplied the monastery with water from another source, almost
c~"<rd (Reforma, lib. i. ch. liii. § 1).
CH. I.] MEDINA DEL CAM PO. 41]
be so, and had the work done, against the will of the well-
sinker, who. had experience of water. Our Lord was pleased,
and we have a flow of water quite enough for us, and good
to drink, to this day. I do not count this as a miracle —
I could tell many other things — but I tell it to show the faith
of the sisters, for the facts occurred as I am describing them,
and because my chief purpose is not to praise the nuns of
these monasteries, all of whom, by the goodness of our Lord,
walk in the same path. It would be tedious to write of
these and many other things, yet not unprofitable, for those
who come in from time to time are hereby encouraged to
follow in their steps. However, if our Lord will have it
done, the superiors might order the prioresses to put them
in writing.
4. I, wretch that I am, was living among these angelic
souls. I think they were nothing less, for they concealed
from me no fault, however interior ; while the graces, the
high desires, and detachment which our Lord gave them, were
exceedingly great. Their joy was in being alone, and
they assured me they were never long enough alone ; and
so they looked on it as a torment whenever any one came to
see them, even though it were a brother. She who had the
most opportunities of being alone in the hermitage considered
herself the happiest.
5. Very often, when thinking of the great worth of these
souls, and of the great courage — certainly a greater courage
than that of women — which God gave them that they might
bear suffering and serve Him, it would often strike me that
it was for some great end that He gave them this wealth.
But what came to pass afterwards never entered into my
mind, for then it seemed impossible, because there was no
reason in the world for imagining it; still, as time went on,
my desires to do something for the good of some soul or
other grew more and more, and very often I looked on my
self as on one who, having great treasures in her keeping,
wished all to have the benefit of it, but whose hands were
restrained from distributing it. Accordingly it seemed to
me that my soul was in bonds, for the graces our Lord gave
me during those years were very great, all of which seemed to
be wasted in me. I waited on our Lord always with my poor
prayers, and got my sisters to do the same, and to have a zeal
for the good of souls, and for the increase of the Church : they
412 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. I.
always edified every one who conversed with them, and herein
my great longings were satisfied.
6. After four years — I think a little more — there came
to see me a Franciscan friar, father Alonso Maldonado, a
great servant of God, having the same desires that I had for
the good of souls. He was able to carry his into effect, for
which I envied him enough. He had just returned from the
Indies. He began by telling me of the many millions of souls
there perishing through the want of instruction, and preached
us a sermon encouraging us to do penance, and then went
his way. I was so distressed because so many souls were
perishing that I could not contain myself. I went to one of
the hermitages, weeping much, and cried unto our Lord,
beseeching Him to show me, when the devil was carrying
so many away, how I might do something to gain a soul for
His service, and how I might do something by prayer now
that I could do nothing else. I envied very much those who
for the love of our Lord could employ themselves in this
work for souls, though they might suffer a thousand deaths.
Thus, when I am reading in the lives of the saints how they
converted souls, I have more devotion, more tenderness and
envy, than when I read all the pains of martyrdom they under
went ; for this is an attraction which our Lord has given me ;
and I think He prizes one soul which of His mercy we have
gained for Him by our prayer and labour more than all the
service we may render Him.
7. During this great distress I was one night in prayer,
when our Lord appeared to me in His wonted manner, and
showed me great love, as if he wished to comfort; He then
said to me, "Wait a little, my child, and thou shalt see great
things." These words were so impressed on my heart that
I could not forget them ; and though I could not find out, after
long thinking over them, what they could mean, and did not
see any way even to imagine it, I was greatly comforted, and
fully persuaded that the words would be found true ; but it
never entered my imagination how they could be. Another
six months went by — so I think and believe — and then that
happened which I will now relate.
(II. II. J MEDINA DEL CAMPO. 413
CHAPTER II.
THE GENERAL OF THE ORDER COMES TO AVILA RESULTS OP
HIS VISIT.
1. OUR generals always reside in Rome, none of whom
have been at any time in Spain,1 and it seemed impossible
they should come then; but, as there is nothing impossible
if our Lord wills it, His Majesty ordained that what had
never been done before should be done now. When I heard
of it I think I was troubled because, as it is said in the history
of the foundation of S. Joseph's, this house, for the reason
there given, is not under the jurisdiction of the friars.2 1
was afraid of two things: one was that the general might
be angry with me, and he had reason to be so,3 not knowing
how matters had come to pass ; the other, that he might
send me back to the monastery of the Incarnation4 where the
mitigated rule is observed: that would have been a sore dis
comfort to me, for many reasons which I need not relate.5
One is enough : it would not have been possible for me to
1 Two generals had before this entered Spain and held chapters
of the order: Fra Juan Alerio in Barcelona in the year 1324, and
twenty years after, in 1354, Fra Raimundo de Grasa in Perpinan; but
these chapters were held only for the kingdom of Aragon, where the
order was widely spread. (De la Fuente.} This was the first time the
general entered Castille, which is no doubt what the Saint means
when she says that none of the generals ever came to Spain. (Re forma
de los Descalcos, lib. ii. ch. ii. § 3.)
2 See Life, ch. xxxvi. § 1.
8 He was very angry certainly; not, however, with the Saint, but
with the provincial, who had refused to accept the monastery.
(Re forma, lib. ii. ch. ii. § 4.)
4 The general asked for the brief by which the removal of the
Saint and two of her companions from the monastery of the Incar
nation to the new foundation was authorised, and offered the Saint,
when he saw the flaws in the process, to receive her back under
the obedience of the order; she, knowing nothing of the irregularities
that had been committed, willingly accepted the offer at once, and
the general received her, but allowed her to remain in Saint Joseph's;
he would not send her back to her old home in the Incarnation, nor
would he ever allow any body to do so (Re forma, lib. ii ch. 2, § 5).
' See Life. ch. xxxii. § 12.
114 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. II.
keep the primitive rule in its rigour there, for the nuns were
more than a hundred and fifty in number, and there is more
quiet and concord always where the nuns are few. Our
Lord disposed it all far better than I thought, for the general
is so great a servant of God, so prudent and learned, that he
regarded it as a good work, and never showed me the least
displeasure. He is Fra Giovanni Battista Rossi da Ravenna,1
a man most distinguished in the order, and justly so.
2. When he arrived in Avila2 I contrived he should
come to S. Joseph's, and the bishop3 was pleased that all
reverence should be shown him as to himself in person. I
told him everything in all simplicity and truth, for my in
clination is to be simple and truthful with my superiors,
come what may, for they stand in the place of God. I am
so with my confessors,4 and if I were not I should not think
my soul was safe. And so I gave him an account of my soul,
and almost of my whole life, though it is very sad : he con
soled me greatly, and assured me that he would not order
me away. It cheered him to see our way of life, a picture,
however imperfect, of the commencement of our order, of the
observance in all rigour of the primitive rule, for in many
other monasteries throughout the whole order it is not our,
but only the mitigated, rule that is kept. He, being well
pleased that a work thus begun should be carried on, gave me
1 Fra Nicholas Audet, the general of the order, having died Dec.
7, 1562, Fra Giovanni Battista Rossi governed as vicar till he was
elected general, without a single dissentient voice, in the chapter held
in Rome on Whit-Sunday, May 21, 1564. He came to Spain at the
earnest request of Philip II., by order of the Pope St. Pius V., then
newly elected, and held a chapter in Seville, Sept. 20, 1566, at which
more than 200 friars assisted, when he made Fra Juan de la Quadra
provincial of Andalucia. The friars, disgusted with his efforts to
reform them, spoke ill of him to the king, whereupon Philip, who had
received him at first with the honours of a grandee of Spain, now, on
his return to Madrid, refused to see him. (Reforma, lib. ii. ch. ii.
§ 2, 3.)
2 Though the king's mind had been poisoned against him, the
general went to Avila, where he held a chapter, and did what he
could for the reform of the order in the province of Castille, appoint
ing Fra Alonso Gonzalez provincial, Fra Angel de Salazar remaining
prior of Avila. (De la Fuente.}
3 Don Alvaro de Mendoza, bishop of Avila; he will be mentioned
again in the history of the Foundations. — See also the Life, ch. xxxiii.
§ 19.
* See Life, ch. xxxviii. § 1.
CH. II.] MEDINA DEL CAMPO. 415
the fullest authority in writing to found more monasteries, and
denounced penalties against the provincial who should stay
my hand.1 I did not ask for this, only he understood by my
manner of prayer that I had great longings to help any soul
whatever to draw nearer unto God.
3. But the means for satisfying these longings I did not
seek myself; on the contrary, I thought it foolish to do so;
for a poor woman, so helpless as I am, saw clearly she could
do nothing; but when these longings take possession of the
soul it is not possible to drive them away. The love of God
and faith make that possible which is not possible according
to natural reason, and so I, knowing how much our most
reverend general desired the founding of more monasteries,
thought I saw them already built. Remembering the words
our Lord had spoken to me,2 I descried always some begin
nings of those things which I could not understand hitherto.
When I saw our father general returning to Rome I was
much distressed ; I had conceived a great affection for him,
and looked on myself as greatly forsaken. He had showed
me very great affection himself, and much kindness; and
whenever he was disengaged he used to come here to dis
course of spiritual things, for he was a person to whom our
Lord must have given great graces, and it was a comfort to us
to listen to him.
4. Yet before he went away the lord bishop, Don Alvaro
de Mendoza, who is extremely fond of helping those whom
he sees striving to serve God in greater perfection, obtained
his consent for the foundation in his diocese of monasteries
of barefooted friars of the primitive rule. Others also asked
the same of him ; he wished it could be done, but he met
with opposition in the order, and therefore, not to disturb
the province, he refrained for the time.
5. When some days had passed by I considered, if there
were to be monasteries for nuns, how necessary it would be
to have friars under the same rule ; and seeing how very
few there were in the province, for they seemed to me to be
dying out, I put the matter earnestly before our Lord, and
wrote to our father general, begging him as well as I could
1 The new monasteries were to be subject to the general himself,
and the letters were given in Avila April 27, 1567 (Reforma, lib. ii. ch.
Hi. § 2).
8 See ch. i. 8 7.
416 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. II.
to grant this, and giving as a reason that it would be greatly
for the service of God, showing also that the inconveniences
which might arise would not be a sufficient excuse for leav
ing undone so good a work, and reminding him what a
service he would thereby render to our Lady, to whom he
was very devout. She it was who did the work; for this
letter was delivered to him while he was in Valencia, and he
sent me thence — for he desired to see the strictest observance
of the rule practised in the order — his licence to found two
monasteries. That no difficulties might be raised, he referred
the matter to the provincial and his predecessor; their consent
was not easily to be had. But when I saw the chief part of
the work done I had hopes our Lord would do the rest; and
so it came to pass, for wiJi the help of the lord bishop, who
considered the work as specially his own, the provincial and
his predecessor gave their consent.
6. Yet, while I was comforted by having obtained the
licence, my anxiety grew the more, because there was not
a single friar in the province that I knew of who would
undertake the task, nor any secular person to make such a
beginning. I did nothing but implore our Lord to raise up
one at least for our work. Neither had I a house to ofter
— not even the means to have one. There was I, a poor bare
footed nun, without any help whatever except in our Lord,
having nothing but the licence of the general and my good
desires, and with no means whatever of carrying them into
effect. Neither courage nor hope failed me, for as our Lord
had given one thing He would also send the other. Every
thing seemed to me possible now, and so I began the work.
7. Oh, the greatness of God ! How Thou dost manifest
Thy power in giving courage to an ant ! Now, O my Lord
the fault is not Thine that those who love Thee do not do
great things, but in our cowardice and littleness of mind !
How we never make good resolutions without being filled
with a thousand fears and considerations of human prudence !
so, then, that is the reason, O my God, why Thou dost not
show Thy greatness and Thy wonders. Is there any one
more willing to give to any one that will receive, or to accept
services tendered at his own cost, than Thou art? May it
please Thy Majesty that I may have rendered Thee some
service, and that I may not have a heavier debt still to pay
for the many things I have received ! Amen.
CH. III.] MEDINA DEL CAMPO. 417
CHAPTER III.
HOW THE MONASTERY OF S. JOSEPH IN MEDINA DEL CAMPO
WAS BEGUN.
1. IN the midst of all these anxieties I determined to
go for help to the fathers of the Society, who were greatly
respected in Medina, to whom for many years I had entrusted
my soul, as I said before while giving an account of the first
foundation,1 and for whom I have ever a special affection,
because of the great good they have done me. I wrote to
the rector .there, and told him what our father general had
laid upon me. That rector was one who had heard my con
fession for many years, as I have said, though I did not give
his name. He is father Baltasar Alvarez, now provincial.
He and the others said they would do what they could in
the matter, and accordingly they laboured much to obtain
the consent of the town and of the prelate, wrhich was in
every way a difficult matter, because the monastery was to
be founded in poverty; and accordingly the matter was de
layed for some days.
2. To arrange the affair there went thither2 an ecclesi
astic, a very great servant of God, exceedingly detached
from all the things of the world, and much given to prayer.
He was chaplain of the monastery wherein I was living; our
Lord had given to him the very same desires He had given
to me, and so he was a great help to me, as will be seen here
after. It was Julian of Avila.3 I had the permission to
found, it is true, but I had no house nor money wherewith to
buy one, nor sufficient credit. If our Lord did not give it,
how could a pilgrim like myself have any? Our Lord pro-
1 See Life, ch. xxiii. § 9.
* In the end of July, 1567. It took him a fortnight to arrange the
whole business (Reforma, lib. ii. ch. v. § 4, 5).
8 His father was Cristobal de Avila, and his mother Ana de Santo
Domingo. After wandering about Spain in his youth, he returned
to Avila, and then began to prepare himself by diligent study for the
priesthood. The bishop of Avila held him in great respect, and the
archbishop of Toledo begged him to assist him in the visitation of the
nuns in his diocese. He survived S. Teresa, and died on the feast
of S. Mathias, 1605 (Reforma, lib. ii. ch. v. § 2, 3).
418 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. III.
vided; for a most excellent young person, for whom there
was no room in S. Joseph's, knowing that another house
was to be founded, came to me, asking to be received into it.
She had a little money — very little — enough, not for the pur
chase, but only for the hire of a house, and to help us on our
journey thither; and so we took a hired house. Without any
other support than this we set forth from Avila — two nuns,
with myself, from S. Joseph's, and four from the Incarnation,1
a monastery under the mitigated rule, and in which I lived
before S. Joseph's was founded. Our father chaplain, Julian
of Avila,2 went with us.
3. There was a stir in the city as soon as it was known.
Some said I was mad ; others waited for the end of this folly.
The bishop — so he told me afterwards — thought it a very
great folly, though he did not say so at the time : he would
not trouble me nor give me pain, because of his great affection
for me. My friends told me so fast enough, but I made light
of it all, for I looked on that which they thought question
able as so easy that I could not persuade myself to admit
it could fail at all.
4. Now when we left Avila3 I had already written to
a father of our order, Fra Antonio de Heredia,4 asking him
1 The nuns were Maria Bautista, niece of the Saint, already spoken
of, and Anne of the Angels, from the monastery of S. Joseph. From
the monastery of the Incarnation, Inez de Tapia, afterwards Inez
of Jesus, with her sister Ana de Tapia, afterwards Anne of the Incar
nation, both cousins of S. Teresa; Dona Isabel de Arias, afterwards
Isabel of the Cross, and Dona Teresa de Quesada (Reforma, lib. ii.
ch. v. § 6).
2 Julian of Avila was not a religious, but a secular, priest. There
was however a custom in Spain, when the Saint lived, of calling
secular priests fathers (Note of De la Fuente on Lett. 146, but Lett.
45, vol. iv. ed. Doblado).
3 The Saint left Avila August 13, 1567; but Julian had gone to
Medina in the end of July with letters from the Saint to Baltasar
Alvarez, her old confessor, and then rector in that city of the house
of the Society. Father Alvarez was asked to obtain the permission of
the abbot in whom the jurisdiction was vested. The abbot took
counsel and made inquiries about the Saint. Some spoke severely
against her; but Fra Dominic Banes, her friend, was present, who
undeceived the abbot, and thus the permission was granted (Reforma
de los Dcscalcos, lib. ii. ch. v. § 4).
4 Fra Antonio was before this prior of the house of his order in
Avila and well known to the Saint (Ibid. ch. ii. § 1).
CH. III.] MEDINA DEL CAMPO. 419
to buy me a house. He was then prior of S. Anne's there,
a monastery of our order. He treated with a lady,1 who had
a great affection for him, for a house, which was in a good
situation, but, with the exception of one room, in a ruinous
condition. She was so good as to promise to sell it to him,
so they settled the affair without her asking him for security,
or anything more than his word. If she had asked for se
curity we should have been helpless. Our Lord was arrang
ing it all. The house was in so ruinous a plight that we had
to hire another while they were repairing it, for there was
much to be done to it.
5. The first day's journey, then, brought us, late at night,
and worn out by the difficulties of the road, to Arevalo. As
we were drawing near to the town,2 one of our friends, an
ecclesiastic, who had provided a lodging for us in the house
of certain devout women, came to meet us, and told me
secretly that the house was not to be had, because it was
close to that of the Augustinian friars, who would resist our
taking possession, and that we should be forced to go to law.3
O my God, how poor is all opposition when Thou, O Lord,
art pleased to give us courage! This seemed rather to en
courage me, for I thought, seeing that the devil was begin
ning to be troublesome, that our Lord would take pleasure
1 Dona Maria de Herrera. Her house was in the Calle Santiago,
but as it was in a most ruinous state, Julian of Avila hired a house
near the monastery of the Augustinian friars, where the nuns might
be lodged till the purchased house could be made ready to receive
them (Reforma, ch. v. § S).
2 Inez of Jesus, in the informations taken in Medina in the process
of the Saint's beatification, has preserved a fact which S. Teresa
seems to have studiously omitted. As they were drawing near to
Arevalo the Saint sent one of the priests in her company on before,
with instructions to find Alfonso Esteban. He was to be found
walking under a certain portico, and the messenger was to tell him
that the mother Teresa of Jesus was coming into the town, and that
she asked him to find a lodging for her and her companions. Every
thing happened as the Saint had said, and Alfonso Esteban found a
lodging for her in the house of a lady, Ana de Velasco (De la Fuente
ii. p. 393).
! The priest, Alfonso Esteban, was the bearer of a letter to
Julian of Avila from Alonso Alvarez, who had left the house in
Medina. The writer said that he, as a friend of the Augustinians,
could not give them the house without the assent of those friars,
and begged him to arrange the matter with them before the nuns left
Avila (Ribera, lib. ii. ch. vii.; Reforma, lib. ii. ch. v. § 9V
420 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. III.
in the monastery. Nevertheless I asked the priest to keep
silence, not to trouble my companions, particularly the two
nuns of the Incarnation,1 for the others would have gone
through any trouble for me. One of these two was then
sub-prioress there, both of them of good families. Great
opposition had been made to their coming with us, and they
came against the will of their kindred, for everybody thought
it foolish ; and I saw afterwards they had reason enough on
their side. But when our Lord will have me found one of
these houses, my mind seems unable to admit any consider
ation sufficiently strong to make me refrain till the work is
done ; then all the difficulties rise all at once before me,2 as
will be seen hereafter.3
6. When we had reached our lodgings, I found that a
Dominican friar was in the place, a very great servant of
God, who used to be my confessor when I was in S. Joseph's.
In telling the history of that foundation I spoke much of his
goodness, now I will only mention his name, the master Fra
Domingo Banes, a man of great learning and discretion, by
whose counsels I was directed. To him it did not seem that
what I was going to do was so difficult as it seemed to every
body else, for the more God is known the more easy is it to do
His work; so he thought it all quite possible, because of
certain graces which he knew His Majesty had bestowed on
me, and because of the things he had seen during the founding
of S. Joseph's. It was a great joy to me to see him, for
under his direction I thought everything would prosper. Then
when he had come in I told him as a great secret what was
going on ; he thought we might quickly settle with the Augus-
tinians; any delay, however, was irksome to me, because I
did not know what to do with so many nuns ; and thus we all
1 The Saint had said before (§ 3) that she took four nuns from the
Incarnation. The explanation of the apparent contradiction is to
be found in Rib era, lib. ii. ch. vii. The Saint took only two nuns from
the Incarnation, and that was the number to which the general had
expressly limited her; but a few days before she set out for Medina
two nuns, Ana and Inez de Tapia, had come from the Incarnation
into the house of S. Joseph, and were therefore not strictly nuns
of that monastery on the 13th August, 1567.
2 So also was it with her when she made the first foundation of
the order, that of-S. Joseph in Avila (See Life, ch. xxxvi. § 5, 6).
* See below, § 10.
CH. III.] MEDINA DEL CAMPO. 421
spent that night in trouble, for it was told at once to every
body in the lodging.
7. The next morning the prior of our order, Fra Antonio,
arrived; he told us that the house he had agreed to buy was
large enough, and that it had a porch wherein a small church
might be made by adorning it with hangings. That we re
solved to do. To me, at least, it seemed fair enough, for
the least delay was the best for us, because we were away
from our monasteries, and moreover I was afraid of some
opposition now that I had learnt caution by the first founda
tion; so I wished to take possession before our arrival became
known ; accordingly we made up our minds to do so at once.
The master, Father Domingo, agreed with us.1
8. We arrived in Medina del Campo at midnight on the
eve of our Lady's feast in August, alighted at the monastery
of S. Anne, so as to occasion no disturbance, and went on
foot, to the house. It was a great mercy of our Lord that
we were met by no one, for they were at that hour shutting
in the bulls that were to run the next day. I never thought
of that at all, because of the excitement we were in, but our
Lord, ever mindful of those who seek Mis service, and cer
tainly I had no other end in the matter, delivered us. Having
reached the house, we entered a court. The walls seemed to
me very ruinous, but not so much so then as afterwards by
daylight It was our Lord's pleasure, it seems, to make the
blessed father blind to the unseemliness of reserving the
Most Holy Sacrament in such a place.
9. On looking at the porch we saw there was earth in
it which must be taken away, the roof was broken, and the
walls not plastered. The night was now far spent, and we
had nothing but a few hangings, I believe three, and they were
little better than none considering the length of the porch.
1 The Saint set out from Arevalo in the morning, sending four of
the nuns who were with her under the care of Alonzo Esteban to
Villanueva de Azerale, where Vicente de Ahumada, brother of two
of them— Tries of Jesus and Anne of the Incarnation— was rector.
With the other two, Mary of St. John Baptist and Anne of the Angels,
she went on to Olmedo, where the bishop of Avila was then staying,
and arrived there in the evening. The bishop received her with
joy, and, as she would not stop there, sent her on her way in a
carriage which he provided for her, and his chaplain with her. Julian
of Avila had gone on before the Saint, and was then waiting for her
in Medina (Ribera, ii. 7).
422 LOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. III.
I knew not what to do, for I saw it would never do to put an
altar there. It was our Lord's pleasure to have it done at
once, for the steward of the lady had many pieces of tapestry
belonging to her in the house, and a piece of blue damask ;
and he had been told by her to give us everything we should
want, for she was very good. When I saw how well pro
vided we were I gave our Lord thanks, as did the others.
However, we did not know what to do for nails, and it was
not a time for buying any, so a search along the walls was
begun; at last, with some trouble, we found enough. Some1
began to hang the tapestry, and we nuns to clean the floor:
we made such haste that the altar was ready, and the little
bell hung, by daj^break, when mass was said at once.2 This
was enough to take possession, but we did not stop there,
for we had the Most Holy Sacrament reserved: there was a
door opposite the altar, and through the chinks therein we
saw mass said ; there was no other way. Up to this moment
I was happy, for it is to me a very great joy to see but one
church the more wherein the Most Holy Sacrament is re
served. But my joy was only for a moment, for when mass
was over I went to look at the court through a little window,
and saw the walls in some places were level with the ground,
and it would take maii}^ days to repair them.
10. O my God ! what anguish of heart was mine when I
saw His Majesty in the street in times so full of peril because
of those Lutherans.3 • Then all the difficulties which they
might raise who had spoken against us came before me at
once, and I saw plainly that they had reason on their side.
I thought it impossible to go on with the work, for, as before
everything seemed easy, considering it was done for God, so
now the temptation gathered strength against me in such
a way that it seemed as if I had never received any grace
whatever from Him. I thought only of my own meanness and
scanty strength. Then, relying on a thing so wretched as
myself, what good results could I hope for? If I had been
1 These were the priests and the religious who had come with
Fra Antonio de Heredia from his monastery (Ribcra, ii. § 8).
* It was Fra Antonio de Heredia who said the first mass (Reforma
ii. 5, 10).
' Among the strangers in the town, who were foreign merchants,
the Saint feared there might be some heretics (Reforma, lib. ii ch
5, § 11).
CI-I. III.] MEDINA DEL CAMPO. 423
alone I think I could have borne it better, but it was hard
to bear when I began to think that my companions would
have to return to their monastery, out of which they had
come in spite of so much opposition. I thought too that, as
the mistake was made in the very beginning, everything that
I understood our Lord would do later on could never be.
Then there came upon me at once a fear that what I had
heard in prayer was a delusion, and this was not the least
but the greatest pain, for I was thrown into very great fear
that Satan had been deceiving me.
11. O my God! what a sight is that soul which Thou
givest up to suffer ! Certainly, when I think of this trial, and
of some others I had to go through while making these
foundations, I do not think that any bodily sufferings, however
painful, are to be even remembered in comparison with this.
Notwithstanding all this distress — and it was very hard to
bear — I did not let my companions know of it, for I would not
bring more trouble upon them than they had already. I
remained in my sorrow till the evening, when the rector1
of the society sent one of the fathers to see me, who gave me
great encouragement and comfort. I did not tell him all my
distress, but only that which I felt at seeing ourselves in the
street. I began by speaking to him about finding a hired house
at any cost, into which we might go while this underwent
repairs ; and then I took comfort when I saw so many people
come in, none of whom reflected on our folly, which was a
mercy of God; for had they done so, most certainly the Most
Holy Sacrament would have been removed. At this moment
I am thinking of my want of sense and of their inconsider-
ateness in not consuming the Host, yet I believe if that had
been done everything would have been undone.
12. Notwithstanding all the search we made, a house to
let was not to be found in the place, and thus I was in sore
distress night and day ; for, though I always left men to keep
watch over the Most Holy Sacrament, I was afraid they might
fall asleep ; and so I used to rise in the night to look on through
the window, which I could easily do in the moonlight. During
all these days many people used to come, and they not only did
not find fault with us, but were even filled with devotion at
the sight of our Lord once more in the porch ; and His Majesty,
1 Baltasar Alvarez (See § 1, above).
424 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. III.
never weary of humiliations for our sakes, did not seem as if
He wished to depart.
13. When eight days had gone by a merchant1 living in a
very good house, seeing our necessity, told us we might go to
the upper part of it, where we might remain as in a house of
our own. There was a very large hall in it, decorated with
gilding, which he gave us for a church ; and a lady, Dona Elena
de Quiroga,2 a great servant of God, living near the house we
had bought, said that she would help me to begin at once
the chapel for the Most Holy Sacrament, and would also
provide for our enclosure. Others gave us abundant alms in
the way of food, but it was this lady who helped me most.
14. Hereupon I began to be at ease, for we were per
fectly enclosed where we were, and began to say the office,
and the good prior was hurrying on the arrangements of the
house with much trouble. It took, however, two months to
finish it; but it was so done that we were able to remain
in it quietly for some years : since then our Lord has made it
more convenient.
15. While staying there I was always thinking of monas
teries of friars, but as I had not one friar to begin with, as I
said before,3 I did not know what to do ; so I made up my
mind to discuss the matter in the utmost secrecy with the prior
there, and see what he would advise me ; accordingly I did so.
He rejoiced exceedingly when he heard the matter, and prom
ised me to be himself the first. I took that for a pleasantry,
and said so to him : though he was a good and recollected friar,
thoughtful and fond of his cell, and learned beside, yet, for
the beginning of a work like this, he did not seem to me to
possess the requisite courage or the strength to bear the
severity of the rule, for he was of a delicate constitution, and
not inured to austerities. He insisted on it, and assured me
that our Lord had for some time been calling him to a stricter
1 Bias de Medina (Rib era, ii. 9). \
2 A niece of Cardinal Quiroga, archbishop of Toledo, and widow
of Don Diego de Villaroel. Her house was close to the new monas
tery, and she went to see the Saint, who made such an impression
on her that she resolved to become a nun, and spoke to her daughter,
Dona Geronima, who also gave up the world, and followed her mother
into the safe refuge of Carmel, under the guidance of S. Teresa
(Re forma de los Descalcos, lib. ii. ch. v. § 13).
3 See ch. ii. § 6.
CH. III.] MEDINA DEL CAMPO. 425
life ; that he had made up his mind to go to the Carthusians,
and that they had promised to receive him. Nevertheless I
was not very well satisfied, though very glad to hear this
from him ; and so I asked him to wait a while and try himself
in the observances of those things he would have to promise
to do. He accordingly did so for a year, and in that time so
many trials and the persecutions of evil tongues occurred
whereby it seemed our Lord meant to prove him. He himself
bore all so well, and made such great progress, that I gave
thanks to our Lord for it, for it seemed to me that His
Majesty was preparing him for the change.
16. Shortly afterwards came a father, still young, who
was studying in Salamanca. There was another with him as
his companion, who told me great things of the life of that
father, who was John of the Cross.1 I gave thanks to our
Lord. I spoke to the friar, with whom I was greatly pleased,
and learnt from him that he too wished to become a Car
thusian. I spoke to him of my purpose, and pressed him to
wait till our Lord gave us a monastery, and of the great good
it would do, if he led a higher life, to continue in the same
order, and how much greater the service he would render to
our Lord. He gave me a promise on the condition I made
no long delay. When I saw that I had two friars2 to begin
with I looked on the work as done. Still, however, I was not
satisfied with the prior, and so I waited for some time, and
also for want of a place to make a beginning in.3
17. The nuns were growing in reputation with the people,
who conceived a great affection for them, and I believe with
good reason, for they had no other aim but that of serving
our Lord more and more, each to the utmost of her power,
in everything after the manner observed in S. Joseph's of
Avila, for the rule and constitutions in both places were the
1 At this time he was John of S. Matthias, and had been just
ordained priest. His companion was Fra Pedro Orosco (Rcforma,
lib. ii. ch. ix. § 6). St. John of the Cross was born at Hontiveros
in 1542; entered the order in the house of S. Anne, Medina del Campo,
of which Fra Antonio was now prior.
2 The vSaint used to say playfully that she had a friar and a half,
because of the dignified presence of Fra Antonio and of the small
stature of S. John of the Cross (De la Fuente'}.
8 See ch. xiii. § 1.
426 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. III.
same.1 Our Lord began to call some to take the habit, and
so many were the graces He bestowed on them that I was
amazed. May He be blessed for ever, Amen, for, in order to
love, He seems only to wait to be loved Himself.
1 The Saint, on leaving the monastery, made Tries of Jesus prior
ess, and her sister Anne of the Incarnation sub-prioress. Their names
in the world were Ifies and Anne de Tapia, cousins of the Saint
(Re forma, lib. ii. ch. v. § 7, and ch. x. § 1. See ch. ii. supra, and cii. iii.
§ 5). When the Saint was still in Medina she received a visit from
Don Bernardino de Mendoza (see ch. x. § 1), who knew her in Avila,
and offered her a house in Valladolid for a monastery. The Saint
accepted the gift; but Dofia Leonor de Mascarenas was at the same
time pressing her to go to Alcala de Henares to set in order the
monastery founded there by Maria of Jesus (see Life, ch. xxxvi. § 29),
with the help of Dona Leonor. Accordingly, in November, 1567, the
Saint arrived in Madrid on her way to Alcala with two nuns, Anne
of the Angels and Antonia of the Holy Ghost, whom she had sent
for from Avila. She wished to make that journey undisturbed by the
presence of secular people; but Dona Maria de Mendoza, who was
going to Ubeda, insisted on the Saint's travelling in her carriage as
far as Madrid. In that city she was lodged in the house of Dona
Leonor, and was visited by the grand ladies of Madrid, who crowded
around her, some from devotion, others from curiosity, expecting
to see miracles and ecstasies. The Saint understood the temper of her
visitors, and spoke to them of secular things, such as the beauty of
the streets of Madrid, without the slightest allusion to those of the
city of God. Some of these ladies admitted that she was a good sort
of person enough, but only an ordinary nun. Others, however, had
a keener discernment, as also had the barefooted Franciscan nuns,
whose abbess was the sister of the Duke of Gandia, and whose house
had been lately founded by Dona Juana, sister of Philip II. With
them, out of deference to the princess, she remained a fortnight. She
left Madrid November 20, 1567, with Dona Maria de Mendoza, who
had been asked by Dona Leonor to take her to Alcala de Henares.
Having arrived there, she was received by the venerable Maria of
Jesus and her nuns as if she had been their foundress and superior
The keys of the house were given to her, and the whole community
offered itself to her to be guided and instructed by her. She gave
them the constitutions which she had drawn up for her houses in
Avila and Medina. The Saint wished the community to place itself
under the jurisdiction of the order, as she had placed her foundation
in Medina; but the nuns and the bishop disliked the change, and Fra
Dominic Banes, at that moment in Alcala, advised her not to press
the matter (Reforma, lib. ii. ch. x.). F. Ribera, S. J., visited the
monastery of Maria of Jesus in 1585, and found the constitutions and
directions of S. Teresa fervently observed therein (i. 16). Dona
Leonor de Mascarenas was one of the ladies who had offered to inter
cede for S. Ignatius when he was imprisoned in Alcala and suspected
of heresy.
CH. IV.] INSTRUCTIONS. 427
CHAPTER IV.
OF CERTAIN GRACES BESTOWED ON THE NUNS OF THESE MONAS
TERIES ADVICE TO THE PRIORESSES CONCERNING THEM.
1. NOT knowing how long our Lord will give me life or
opportunity — I seem to have very little at present — I think it
well, before I go on further, to give certain directions whereby
the prioresses may understand and guide their subjects with
greater advantage to their souls, though in a way less to their
liking. It is to be observed that when I was commanded to
write the history of these foundations — omitting the first, that
of S. Joseph in Avila, the history of which was written imme
diately after it was made — seven others, by the help of our
Lord, had been made, including that of Alba de Tormes, which
is the last.1 The reason why more foundations were not made
is, that my superiors compelled me to undertake another
work, as will be seen further on.2
2. Considering, then, what in the spiritual order took
place in these monasteries during these years, I see the neces
sity of saying what I am about to say ; and may our Lord
grant I may say it so as to meet that necessity ! And, as that
which has been wrought is not a delusion, there is no need
for people's minds to be alarmed : for, as I have said else
where,3 in a little work I wrote for my sisters, our Lord will
not suffer Satan to have so much power as to deceive us at
all to the hurt of our souls so long as we live under obedience
with a pure conscience: on the contrary, Satan will be de
ceived himself, and, as he knows it, I believe he does not do
us so much evil as our own imagination and perverse humours,
particularly if we yield to melancholy, for we women are
1 Alba de Tormes was founded in 1571 (see ch. xx. below), on the
20th of February, and the next foundation, that of Segovia, was made
(see ch. xxi.) on the 19th of March, 1574. Thus the Saint had rest
for three years from her own immediate work, but in reality no rest
at all, for she was sent that year from Medina, whither she had re
turned from Alba, to be the prioress of her old home, the monastery
of the Incarnation in Avila.
2 This was her appointment as prioress of the monastery of the
Incarnation, where she was professed (see below, ch. xix. § 6, note).
3 See Way of Perfection, ch. Ixx.; but ch. xl. ed. Doblado.
428 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. IV.
naturally weak, and the self-love that rules us is very subtle.
Many persons have come to me, both men and women, as
well as the nuns of these houses, and I have clearly seen that
they very often deceive themselves, but without meaning it.
I really believe that Satan must intrude himself here to mock
us; but most of those who, as I have just said, had been seen
by me, I never knew, through the goodness of our Lord, to
have been abandoned by Him. It was His will, perhaps, to
try them by these fears, that they might learn by experience.
3. Prayer and perfection are, because of our sins, fallen
so low in the eyes of the world, that it is necessary for me
to explain myself in this way; for if men are afraid to walk
on that road, even without seeing its dangers, what will it
be if we were to tell them some of those dangers? — although
it be true there is danger in everything, and that it is needful,
while we live, to walk in fear, to pray to our Lord to teach
us and not to abandon us. But, as I said before1 — I think I
said so — if there be a state wherein the danger is least, it is
theirs who most frequently think of God and labour to be per
fect in their lives.
4. O my Lord, when we see that Thou dost frequently
deliver us from dangers into which we rush, even so as to
offend Thee, how can any one believe that Thou wilt not
deliver us when our only aim is to please Thee, and in Thee
to find our joy? I can never believe it. God in His secret
judgments may permit certain things to have diverse issues,
but what is good never ended in evil. This, then, I am saying,
should be a means to make us strive to travel on the road
more diligently, that we may please the Bridegroom the more
and find Him the sooner, but not to give up the attempt; to
encourage us to journey bravely on through the dangerous
passes of this life, but not to make cowards of us henceforth ;
for in the end, if we go onwards humbly, we shall arrive, by
the mercy of God, in the city of Jerusalem, where all we shall
have endured will be little or nothing in comparison with the
joy that is there.2
5. When these little dovecots of the Virgin our Lady
began to be filled, His Divine Majesty began also to show
His munificence in these poor women — weak certainly, but
1 See Way of Perfection, ch. Ixix. ; but ch. xxxix. ed. Doblado.
2 Rom. viii. 18.
FOURTEENTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del
1. Anne of St. Albert, first Prioress of the convent at Caravaca. 2. General
view of the convent, taken from the castle of Santa Cruz. On one side, the Jesuit
College; on the horizon, the Sierra de Segura and the road to Veas. 3. Facade
of the Carmelite church, of the convent and of the chaplain's house. Pilgrims.
Moorish donkey riders. 4. Seal of Fr. Gratian, impressed on the original act of
authorization of the foundation. 5. Statue of St. Joseph with the Infant Jesus,
executed according to the directions of St. Teresa. 6. Statue of the Blessed Virgin,
given by St. Teresa; she is robed at present as Queen of Carmel. 7. Cross of Cara-
OUR LADY OF MT. CARMEI, AT CARAVACA.
Bruges. P. Raoux Sc.
vaca, formerly belonging- to St. Teresa, and now worn by the Prioress of the monas
tery at Brussels. 8. Reliquary containing- some of the flesh, and the signature of
St. Ttresa. 9. Coffer containing, among other relics, a part of the scapulary of
St. Teresa, and a veil of the venerable Mother Anne of St. Augustine. 10. Copy of
an authentic portrait of St. Teresa, made previous to her beatification. 11. Cross
of Caravaca, carried by pilgrims. 12. Arms of the cle Tauste family. 13. Arms of
the de Moya family. 14. Arms of the family of Otalora. The foundresses belonged
to these three families. 15. Arms of the city of Caravaca. (See Appendix, note 21.)
CH. IV.] INSTRUCTIONS. 429
strong in their good desires and in their detachment from all
created things, for that must be what most unites a soul with
its Maker, the conscience meanwhile being pure. It is riot
necessary to prove this, for if the detachment be real I think
it is impossible for any one who has it to offend our Lord ;
for, as in all their words and actions they never withdraw from
Him, so His Majesty seems to be unwilling to withdraw from
them. This is the sight I see at present, and I can truly
say so. Let those who come after us be afraid, and let them
read this, and if they do not see what may be seen now,
let them not lay the blame on the times, for all times are times
in which God will give His graces to those who serve Him in
earnest, and then let them try to find out where the fault is
and amend it.
6. I have occasionally heard people say of those who
were the founders of orders that upon them, our holy fathers
gone before us, our Lord poured down more abundant grace
because they were the foundation of the building. And so it
was. But then they must have looked on themselves as the
foundations whereon they were to be built up who should
come after them ; and if we who are now living fall not away
from the fervour of those who have gone before us, and if
those who may come after us will not do so also, the building
will stand strong for ever. What good is it to me that the
saints who have gone before us were what they were, if I
who come after them am so wicked as to leave the building
in ruins through my evil habits? for it is plain enough that
those who are coming do not think so much of those who
lived many years ago as they do of those whom they see
before their eyes. A pleasant thing indeed to excuse myself
on the ground that I am not one of the first, without any
reference to the difference there is between my life and virtues
and theirs, to whom God granted graces so great !
7. O my God, what excuses so false, what delusions so-
clear ! I am not speaking of the founders of orders, for, as God
chose them for so high a work, He gave them more abundant
grace.1 I am sorry, O my God, to be so wicked and so worth
less in Thy service, but I know well it is my fault that Thou
dost not give me the graces which Thou gavest to those who
have gone before me. My life is a burden to me when I
1 The preceding clause is on the margin, not in the text, but in the
handwriting of the Saint (De la Fncnte}.
430 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. V.
compare it with theirs, and I cannot say so without weeping.
I see that I have wasted the fruit of their labours, and that
I cannot anyhow complain of Thee, nor is it right that any
one of us should complain; but if any one should see her order
falling away in anything, let her labour to become herself
such a stone as that the building may be raised up anew
thereon, for our Lord will help her in that work.
8. Returning, then, to the matter I had to speak of — for
I have wandered far from it — the graces wrought by our Lord
in these houses are so great that, if there be in them one sister
whom our Lord is leading by the way of meditation, all the
rest are advancing by the way of perfect contemplation : some
have gone so far as to have had raptures ; to others our Lord
gives His grace in a different way, together with revelations
and visions, which clearly are the work of God. There is not
a single house at present in which one, or two, or three, may
not be found who are thus visited. I know well that holiness
does not lie herein, nor is it my intention merely to tell this
in their praise, but rather to show that the instructions I wish
to give are not without a purpose.
CHAPTER V.
DIRECTIONS ABOUT PRAYER AND REVELATIONS MOST
PROFITABLE TOR THE ACTIVE LIFE.
1. I DO not mean, and I have never thought, that
what I am now going to say is so accurate that it
should be held as an infallible rule : that would be folly in
matters so difficult. But, as there are many ways in the way
of the Spirit, it may be that I shall say something to the pur
pose concerning some of them ; and if they do not understand
me who are not travelling this way, that will be because they
are travelling on another, and if I do good to nobody our
Lord will accept my good will, for He knows that, if I have
not experienced it all myself, I have observed it in other souls.
2. In the first place, I wish to show, so far as my poor
understanding is able, wherein lies the essence of perfect
prayer; for some I have met with think the whole matter
CH. V.] OBEDIENCE. 431
lies in thinking, and so, if they can think long about God,
though by doing great violence to themselves, they believe
forthwith that they are spiritual people; and if they are dis
tracted, unable to hold out longer even by good thoughts, they
fall immediately into great discomfort, and look upon them
selves as lost. Learned men do not labour under ignorance
like this, yet I have found one who did so; but for us women
it is well we should be warned to beware of all ignorance in
these matters. I am not saying that it is not a grace from our
Lord that a person should be always able to persevere in
meditation on His works, and it is right to make an effort
to do so ; but it must be understood that not every imagination
is by nature able to do it, but every soul is able to love Him,
and perfection lies in that rather than in thinking. I have
already in another place1 spoken of the causes of the disorder
of our imagination — not of all, I believe, for that would be
impossible, but cf some — and so I do not treat of them now,
but I would rather show that the soul is not the power of
thinking, and that it is not right that the will should be
ordered by it, for that would be a sad state, as I said just
now, seeing that the good of the soul does not exist in its
thinking much, but in its loving much. And if you were to
ask how is this love to be had, my answer is, by a good
resolution to do and suffer for God, and by carrying out that
resolution into act whenever the opportunity occurs.
3. It is very true that by meditating on the debt we
owe our Lord, on His nature and on ours, a soul may attain
to a firm resolution — and there is great merit in doing so,
and it is most fitting in the beginning; but it must be under
stood that what relates to obedience, and the good of our
neighbour, to the doing of which charity constrains us, must
not be hindered thereby,2 for on such occasions, when either
of these two is required of us, we must give up for the time
that which we so much long to give to God; which, as
we regard it, is to be alone meditating upon Him, and rejoicing
in His consolations. To give this up for either of the other
1 See Life, ch. xvii. § 10.
Oratio impediens obligationem est illusio, est oratio quse nescit
relinquere Deum propter Deum, nee subvenire fraternrc charitati
oblieratoriie, et poenitentiam praefert obedientire, vel amentia est vel
manifest* illusio (Scliram, Theolog. Mystic. § 472).
432 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. V.
two is to give pleasure to our Lord, and do it for Him i1 so He
himself has said — ''What ye did for one of these little ones
ye did for Me."2 And as to that which relates to obedience,
He will not have us walk by any other way than that which
He chose for himself — Obediens usque ad mortem.3
4. If, then, this be true, whence comes that inward dis
satisfaction which we generally feel when we have not passed
the greater part of the day alone and absorbed in God, even
though we were occupied in other ways? From two sources,
I think: one, and this is the chief, is self-love, which thrusts
itself in here in a most subtle way, and accordingly escapes
detection ; that is, we would please ourselves rather than God.
For it is clear that when a soul has begun to taste how sweet
our Lord is,4 it finds more pleasure in being at ease, abstaining
from bodily labour, and receiving consolation.
5. Oh, the charity of those who truly love our Lord,
and who understand their own state! How scanty the rest
they will be able to take if they but see they can in any degree
help a single soul to advance, and to love God more, or be
able to comfort it in any way, or rescue it from any danger !
How ill at ease such souls will be when they are at rest ! And
when they cannot help them in act they have recourse to
prayer, besieging our Lord on behalf of the many souls whom
it grieves them to see going to ruin ; they abandon their own
comfort, and look on it as well lost, for they think not of
their own rest, but only how they may more and more do
the will of our Lord. It is the same in things that relate to
obedience : it would be a strange thing if, when God clearly
told us to betake ourselves to some work that concerns Him,
we were to do nothing but stand still and gaze upon Him
because that gives us a greater joy. A pleasant progress this
in the love of God ! — to tie His hands through an opinion that
He can do us good only in one way.
6. I know of some, and have lived among them — I put
on one side my own experience, as I said before5 — who taught
me the truth of this ; when I was myself in great distress
because of the little time I had, and accordingly was sorry
1 S. Philip expressed it thus — "leaving Christ for Christ." (See
his Life, by Bacci, bk. ii. ch. v. Eng. Trans, p. 145 and p. 161.)
- S. Matt. xxv. 40.
3 So the Saint wrote it (De la Fuente). Philipp. ii. 8.
4 Ps. xxxiii. 9. 5 § 1, supra.
CH. V.] OBEDIENCE. 433
to see them always employed and having much to do, because
they were under obedience, and was thinking within myself,
and even said as much to them, that spiritual growth was not
possible amidst so much hurry and confusion, for they had
then not grown much. O Lord, how different are Thy ways
from what we imagined them to be I1 and how Thou, if a
soul be determined' to love Thee, and resigned in Thy hands,
e>skest nothing of it but obedience ; the sure knowledge of
what is for Thy greater honour, and the desire to do it. That
soul need not seek out means, nor make a choice of any, for
its will is already Thine. Thou, O Lord, hast taken upon
Thyself to guide it in the way the most profitable to it. And
even if the superior be not mindful of that soul's profit, but
only of the duties to be discharged in the community, Thou,
O my God, art mindful of it ; Thou preparest its ways, and
orderest those things WTC have to do, so that we find ourselves,
without our knowing how, by faithfully observing, for the
love .of God, the commands that are laid upon us, spiritually
growing and making great progress, which afterwards fills
us with wonder.
7. So it was with one whom I conversed with not many
days since. He had been for fifteen years under obedience,
charged with laborious offices and the government of others —
so much so that he could not call to mind one day that he
had had to himself ; nevertheless he contrived to find, the
best way he could, some time every day for prayer, and to have
a conscience without offense.2 He is one whose soul is the
most given to obedience that I ever saw, and he impresses that
virtue on every one he has to do with. Our Lord has amply
rewarded him, for he finds himself, he knows not how, in
possession of that liberty of spirit, so prized and so desired,
which the perfect have, and wherein lies all the happiness that
can be wished for in this life ; for, seeking nothing, he possesses
all things. Such souls fear nothing, and desire nothing on
earth ; no troubles disturb them, no pleasures touch them ; in a
word, nobody can rob them of their peace, for it rests on God
alone, and, as nobody can rob them of Him, nothing but the
fear of losing Him can give them any pain ; for everything else
in this world is, in their opinion, as if it were not, because
it can neither make nor mar their happiness.
1 Is. lv. 8. 2 Act. xxiv. 16.
434 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. V.
8. O blessed obedience, and blessed the distraction
caused thereby, by which we gain so much. That person is
not the only one, for I have known others like him, of whom,
not having seen them for very many years, I asked how they
had been spending the time that had gone by: all of it had
been spent in the labours of obedience and of charity : on the
other hand, I observed such spiritual prosperity as made me
marvel. Well, then, my children, be not discouraged, for if
obedience employs you in outward things, know that even
if you are in the kitchen our Lord moves amidst the pots and
the pans, helping us both within and without.
9. I remember being told by a religious that he was
resolved, and had made up his mind in earnest, never to refuse
to do anything his superior enjoined him, whatever the labour
might be; and that one day, wearied with work and unable
to stand, in the evening as he was going to rest himself a
while, his superior met him, and told him to take a spade and
go and dig in the garden. lie did not say a word, though
naturally greatly distressed, so much so that he cculd do no
work; he took up a spade, and going along a passage which
led to the garden — I saw it many years af ler he had told me of
it, when. I was trying to found a house in that place — he saw
our Lord before him with His cross on His shoulders, so
worn and wearied that he felt his own weariness to be nothing
in comparison with His.
10. I believe myself that when Satan sees there is no
road that leads more quickly to the highest perfection than
this of obedience, he suggests many difficulties under the
colour of some good, and makes it distasteful : let people look
well into it, and they will see plainly that I am telling the
truth. Wherein lies the highest perfection? It is clear that
it does not lie in interior delights, not in great raptures, not
in visions, not in the spirit of prophecy, but in the conformity
of our will to the will of God, so that there shall be nothing
we know He wills that we do not will ourselves with our
whole will, and accept the bitter as joyfully as the sweet,
knowing it to be his Majesty's will. This seems to be very
hard to do ; not the mere doing of it, but the being pleased
in the doing of that which, according to our nature, is wholly
and in every way against our will ; and certainly so it is ; but
love, if perfect, is strong enough to do it, and we forget our
own pleasure in order to please Him whom we love. And
CH. V.] OBEDIENCE. 435
truly it is so, for our sufferings, however great they may be,
are sweet when we know that we are giving pleasure unto
God ; and it is in this way they love who have attained to this
state by persecutions, by dishonour, and by wrongs.
11. This is so certain, and remains so plain and evident,
that there is no reason why I should dwell upon it. What
I aim at showing is the reason, in my opinion, why obedience
furnishes the readiest or the best way for arriving at so blessed
a state. That reason is this: as we are never absolute masters
of our own will, so as to employ it purely and simply for God,
till we subject it wholly to reason, obedience is the true means
of bringing about that subjection; which can never be brought
about by much reasoning, because our nature and self-love
can furnish so much on their side that we shall never come
to an end, and very often will make that which is most reason
able, if we have no liking for it, to seem folly because we have
no inclination to do it.
12. There is so much to be said of this inward struggle,
that we shall never come to the end, and so many are the
means which Satan, the world, and our flesh employ in order
to warp our reason. Is there, then, any help for it? Yes; as
in a very doubtful question of law men go to an arbitrator,
and, weary of pleading, put the matter in his hands, so let
the soul go to some one, whether it be the superior or the
confessor, fully bent on pleading no further or thinking of its
cause, but relying on the words of our Lord, who saith, "Pie
that heareth you heareth Me,"1 regardless of its own will.
Our Lcrd makes so much of this submission, and justly so, for
we make Him thereby master of the free will He has given us;
for by the practice thereof, now conquering ourselves wholly,
at other times after a thousand struggles, thinking the deci
sions given in our cause to be felly, we conform to that which
is commanded us by the help of this painful exercise; but
at last, painfully or not, we do it, and our Lord on Plis part
helps us so much, that as we submit our will and reason for
Plis sake, so He makes us masters cf them both.
13. We, then, being masters of ourselves, are able to give
ourselves perfectly unto God, offering to Plim a pure will
that He may unite it to His own, praying Him to send down
from heaven the fire of Plis love to consume the sacrifice,2
1 S. Luc. x. 16. * 3 Kings xviii. 38.
436 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. V.
and putting everything away that may be displeasing unto
Him : for now there is nothing more for us to do, seeing that,
although with much labour, we have laid our offering on the
altar, which, so far as it lies in our power, no longer touches
the earth.
14. It is clear that no man can give that which he does
not possess, as it is necessary he should have it before he can
give it. Believe me, then, there is no better way of finding
this treasure than that of toiling and digging so as to draw
it forth out of the mine of obedience ; for the more we dig
the more we shall find, and 'the more we subject ourselves
to men, having no other will but that of those who are over
us, the more we shall master our will so as to conform it to
the will of God. Consider, my sisters, whether the pleasures
of solitude abandoned be not amply repaid. I tell you that
you will be none the worse for the loss of solitude in your prep
aration for attaining to that true union of which I am speak
ing, which is that of making our own will one with the will
of God. This is the union I desire, and would have you
all possess, and not certain raptures, full of delight, to which
some are liable, and which they call union : and those raptures
may be union, if, when they are over, they are followed by
obedience; but if after the raptures there ensues but scanty
obedience, and self-will remains, this latter, as it seems to me,
will be joined to self-love and not to the will of God. May
His Majesty grant that I may act according to the knowledge
I have in the matter.
15. The second source1 of this dissatisfaction, in my
opinion, is that the soul seems to live in greater purity when
left in solitude, because there are fewer opportunities therein
of offending God; some, however, there must be, for the evil
spirits and we ourselves are everywhere. For if the soul is
afraid of offending God, it is a very great consolation for it
to meet with nothing to make it fall ; and certainly this seems
to me a stronger reason for desiring to avoid all intercourse
with the world than is that which is grounded on the fact,
that solitude ministers great consolations and sweetness in
God.
16. It is here, my children, love must be made known ;
not in secret places, but in the midst of temptations : and trust
me, our gain will be incomparably greater, though there may
1 See § 4, above.
CH. V.] OBEDIENCE. 437
be more faults committed, and even some slight falls. Re
member, in all I say I am taking for granted that you run
these risks under obedience and out of charity, jand if it be
not so, my conclusion always is that to be alone is better; and,
moreover, we ought to desire to be alone even when employed
in the way I am speaking of; in truth, this desire is ever
present in those souls which really love God. Why I say
it again is this : it makes us know what we are, and how far
our virtue can reach. A person always alone, however holy
he may think himself to be, does not know whether he pos
sesses patience and humility, and has no means of learning.
A man may be very courageous, but how is it to be known if
he has not been seen in battle? S. Peter considered himself
very brave, but look at him when he was tried : he, however,
rose again after his fall, not trusting at all to himself; and
from henceforth placed all his confidence in God, and after
wards suffered martyrdom, as we know.
17. O my God, if we but knew how great is our wretched
ness! There is danger in every thing if we do not know it,
and for that reason it is a great blessing to us that we are
under authority, so that we may discern our o\vn meanness.
And I consider one day of humbling self-knowledge, which
may have cost us much sorrow and distress, to be a greater
grace of our Lord than many days of prayer ; moreover,
he who is a true lover loves everywhere, and always remem
bers the object of his love. It would be hard if we could pray
only in secret places. I see now that I cannot be alone for
many hours. But, O my Lord ! how mighty before Thee is
a single sigh rising up from the heart, because of the pain
it gives to us to see that we have not only to tarry in this
our exile, but also that wre find no opportunity of being alone,
so that we might alone have the fruition of Thyself.
18. Here it is plain that we are His slaves, sold for love
of Him, with our own consent, to the virtue of obedience,
seeing that for its sake we give up, in a certain way, the
fruition of God Himself; and it is nothing, if we consider that
He, in obedience, came down from the bosom of the Father
to make Himself a slave to us. How then can He be recom
pensed for this, or what service can we give Him in return
for this grace? It is necessary to be on our guard in our
employments, though laid upon us by obedience and charity,
lest we should be careless therein, not lifting up our hearts
438 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. VI.
continually unto God. And, believe me, it is not length of
time that enables a soul to make progress in prayer; if it is
given up to active work also, that is a great help whereby
the soul in a very short time may attain to a belter prepara
tion for the enkindling of its love than it could attain to by
many hours spent in meditation. All has to come from His
hand. May He be blessed for ever and ever !
CHAPTER VI.
OF THE HARM IT MAY DO SPIRITUAL PERSONS NOT TO KNOW WHEN
THEY ARE TO RESIST THE SPIRIT OF THE DESIRE FOR COM
MUNION, AND OF DELUSIONS INVOLVED IN IT.
1. I HAVE been striving diligently to find out whence
cometh a certain great dreaminess1 which I have observed in
some persons to whom our Lord gives much sweetness in
prayer, and who do all they can to prepare themselves for the
reception of His graces. I am not speaking now of those occa
sions during which His Majesty lifts up the soul and carries it
away in rapture. I have written much of this in another place,2
and of an act like this there is nothing to be said, though we
may do all we can to resist, because we are utterly powerless :
if it be a true rapture, it is to be observed that the force which
forces us to lose all control over ourselves lasts but a moment.
But it oftentimes happens that it begins in a kind of prayer
of quiet, which is like a spiritual sleep, and which throws
the soul into a dreamy state; so that we, if we do not know
what conduct to observe herein, may lose much time, and
through our own fault waste our strength and merit little.
2. I wish I knew how to explain myself here, and the
matter is so difficult that I know not if I shall succeed; but I
know well that if those souls who are in this delusion would
but believe me, they would understand the matter. I know
some, and they are souls of great virtue, who have been in this
state seven or eight hours at a time, thinking it all to be a
1 See Arbiol, Desenganos Mistlcos, lib. ii. ch. v. p. 198. Card
Bona, De Discretions Spirituwn, ch. xiv. § 4, says: "Interdtim etiam
raptus creditur ab inexpertis, quod est deliquium; de qua re diffuse
tractat, et profert exempla S. Teresia in libro Fundationum."
2 See Life, ch. xx.
CH. VI.] DELUSIONS. 439
rapture, and whom every pious practice laid hold of in such
a way that they went forthwith out of themselves, thinking it
not right to offer any resistence to our Lord : in this way they
might come by their death, or become foolish, if no remedy
be found for them.1
3. What I understand of the matter is this: the soul,
when our Lord begins to caress it in this way — and we are by
nature so fond of that which pleases us — gives itself up so
much to that pleasure, that it would not stir, move, nor on
any account whatever would it consent to lose it: for in truth
the pleasure is greater than all the pleasures in the world;
and when it happens to a person of weak constitution, or to
one whose mind, or, to speak more correctly, whose imagina
tion, is not naturally given to change, but one that dwells
upon a subject without further distraction, once it has laid
hold of him — as do many persons who, when they have fixed
their thoughts on anything, though in nowise relating to
God, become absent, having their eyes directed to an object
before them, but which they do not really see — people natu
rally sluggish, who, through negligence, seem to forget what
they were going to say, — so is it in this case, according to our
nature, disposition, or weakness. Oh, if a soul of this kind be
given to melancholy ! it will become the prey of a thousand
pleasing delusions.
4. Of this temper, I shall speak a little later on ;2 but
even if there be none of it, what I have spoken of takes place,
and in those persons also who are wasted by penance ; for,
as I said before, when love begins to supply them with sen
sible sweetness, they suffer themselves, as I have just now
said, to be carried away too much by it; and, in my opinion,
their love would be more perfect if they did not give way to
this dreaminess, for they could very well resist it at this point
in their prayer. For, as in bodily weakness we suffer from a
faintness which allows us neither to speak nor to move, so
is it here if we make no resistance ; for if the body be weak,
the vehemence of the spirit seizes upon it and subdues it.
5. I may be asked, wherein does it differ from a trance?
It is the same thing with it, at least in appearance ; and they
have reason to say so, but it is not so in reality. For a trance,
or the union of all the powers of the soul, as I have said, lasts
but a moment, and leaves great fruit behind, and an inwr.rd
1 See Inner Fortress, iv., ch. iii. § 11, &c. ' Ch. vii.
440 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. VI.
light, with many other blessings ; the understanding does not
work at all, only our Lord is working in the will. But in this
state it is far otherwise ; for though the body be a prisoner,
the will, memory, and understanding are not; yet their opera
tions are disorderly, and if by chance they settle on a par
ticular subject, they will stay there.1
6. I see no good in this bodily weakness — for it is nothing
else — except in so far as it has a good beginning; it would
be far better to spend the time in some good work than to be
thus dreaming so long. There is much more merit in a single
act, and in the frequent moving of the will to love God, than in
leaving it at rest in this way. My advice therefore to the
prioresses isr that they apply themselves with all diligence
possible to the banishing of these protracted fits of dreaminess,
which do nothing else, in my opinion, but blunt the faculties
and the senses so that they shall not do that which the soul
requires of them, and thereby rob them of that blessing which
obedience and carefulness to please our Lord ordinarily bring
them. If they find it proceeds from weakness, then they must
forbid fasting and mortification — that is, when not of obliga
tion ; and the time may come when with a safe conscience they
may forbid them altogether, and assign them duties in the
house for the purpose of taking their attention away from
themselves.
7. In the same way, also, must they be treated who,
though not subject to this faintness, are too much carried away
by their imagination, even though it be on most deep matters
of prayer ; for it happens at times that they are not mistresses
of themselves, particularly if they have received any extra
ordinary grace from our Lord, or seen a vision ; then their
soul seems to be always receiving or seeing: and yet it is
not so, for that happened to them but once. It is necessary for
her who may find herself liable to these faintings away to
strive to change the subject of her meditation ; and provided
she applies herself to the things of God in her meditation,
there is nothing unseemly in changing the subject so long
as she is intent on the things of God ; for meditation on the
creature, and on His power in creating them, may be at times
as pleasing unto Him as meditation on Himself the Creator.
8. Oh, wretched misery of man ! such is it, because of sin,
tbnt even in what is good we must be measured and restrained,
1 See Life, ch. xvii. § 2, and ch. xviii. § 14.
CH. VI. 1 DELUSIONS. 441
lest we should so ruin our health as to lose the fruition of it.
And, in truth, it behoves many persons, whose heads or imagi
nations are weak, to know themselves, which is a greater
service to our Lord, and most necessary. And if any one
sees that when her imagination dwells on a mystery of the
Passion, or on the glory of heaven, or on any other matter
of that kind, and remains for many days unable, though
desirous of doing so, to think on any other, or to rouse herself
from dwelling on it, she must know that she should distract
herself as well as she can ; if not, the time will come when she
will learn the harm she has done to herself, and that it is the
result of what I am speaking of, either of great bodily weak
ness, or of the imagination, which is very much worse. For,
as a person of disordered mind, if he applies himself to any
thing, is not master of himself — can neither withdraw his
mind nor think of anything else, nor be influenced by reason,
because his reason is not under control — so is it in this state;
the madness, however, is pleasant.
9. Oh, what great evils may ensue if such a person is
subject to melancholy ! I see no good at all in this dreaminess,
because the soul is endowed with a capacity for the fruition
of God Himself. If, then, it be not for one of the causes I
have mentioned, why should the soul, seeing that God is
infinite, remain the captive of one of His attributes or mys
teries, when there is so much to occupy us? And all the while,
the more of His works we meditate upon the more we discern
His greatness.
10. I am not saying that in the course of one hour, or
even of one day, we should meditate on many subjects, for
that perhaps would result in fruit from none. As these ques
tions are so difficult, I would not have you think that I am
saying what it has not entered into my mind to say, or that
you should take one thing for another. Certainly the right
understanding of this chapter is so important, that though it
is distressing to write it, I am not sorry to do so ; and I wish
every one who shall not understand it the first time she reads
it, not to shrink from reading it often, especially prioresses
and mistresses of novices who have to direct the sisters in
the way of prayer ; for if they are not careful in the beginning,
they will see that they require much time afterwards to redre s
weaknesses of this kind.
11. If I were to describe the great harm I have seen
442 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. VI.
to result from this, you would see that I have reasons for
insisting on it so much. One fact only will I give, and the
rest can be gathered from it. In one of our monasteries were
a choir nun and a lay sister, both of them raised to a very
high degree of prayer; they were also mortified, humble, and
good, receiving many consolations from our Lord, together
with many manifestations of His greatness. They were par
ticularly, so detached and so engrossed by His love, that there
was no appearance of negligence — though we watched them
very narrowly, considering our natural meanness — in answer
ing to the graces which our Lord gave them. I have said so
much of their goodness in order that they who have not so
much may be the more afraid.
12. They began with great impetuous longings after our
Lord, which they were not able to control ; they thought
those longings were satisfied at communion, and so they ob
tained leave from their confessor to communicate frequently,
and thereby their suffering grew so much upon them that they
thought they were going to die if they could not communicate
every day. The confessors — though one of them was a very
spiritual man — seeing such souls, and such earnest desires,
judged this remedy to be necessary for their disorder. It
did not stop here, for the longings of one of them became so
vehement as to make it necessary for her to communicate
early in the morning to enable her, as she thought, to live ;
and they were not persons who would feign, or tell a lie, for
anything in the world. I was not then in that monastery,
and the prioress told me in a letter what was going on, that
she could do nothing with them, and that certain persons said
they might be relieved in that way, seeing that there was no
help for it. I saw at once what the matter was — our Lord
willed I should; nevertheless, I kept silence till I arrived at
the monastery, for I feared I might be mistaken, and until I
could give my reasons, reason required I should make no
opposition to those who had approved the conduct of the nuns.
13. One was so humble that, as soon as I arrived and
had spoken to him, he believed me. The other was not so
spiritual, nor indeed spiritual at all in comparison. There
was no possible way of convincing him ; I did not care much
for that, because I wras not so much bound to consider him.
I 1-cian to speak to the two nuns, gave them many reasons,
in my opinion, sufficient to make them see that it was a mere
CH. VI.] DELUSIONS. 443
fancy their thinking they should die if they did not communi
cate. They were so wedded to their notion that nothing
moved them, or could move them, in the way of reasoning
with them. I saw that was useless, and told them that I too
had these desires and yet would abstain from communion,
that they might believe they were not to communicate ex
cept when all did — that we would all three die together; for
I thought that better than that a custom of this kind should
be brought into these houses wherein lived those who loved
God as much as they did, and who might wish to do what
they were doing.
14. The harm which this custom of theirs had done
reached so far — Satan must have had a hand in it — that when
they did not communicate, they really seemed as if they were
going to die. I showed great severity, for the more I saw
they were not submissive under obedience, because they
thought they could not keep it, the more clearly I saw it was
a temptation. They spent that day in great distress, the
next in somewhat less, and thus it went on lessening, so that,
though I went to communion myself, because I was ordered —
for I would not have done so when I saw them so weak —
they bore it all exceedingly well. Shortly afterwards both
they and the whole community saw it was a temptation, and
what a blessing it was to have it remedied in time, for soon
after this — but it was not the fault of the two nuns — there
were troubles in that house with the superiors — and I may say
something of them further on — who would not have taken in
good part such customs, nor suffered them.
15. Oh, how many instances of this kind could I give!
I will give one other only ; not in a monastery of our order,
but among the Cistercians. There was a nun, not less good
than those I have been speaking of, brought to such a state
of weakness by disciplines and fasting that every time she
communicated, or whenever she had occasion for quickening
her devotion, she fell down at once to the ground and there
remained eight or nine hours, thinking it was a trance : all
the nuns thought the same. This happened so often that
great harm, I believe, must have come of it if it had not been
taken care of. These trances were bruited abroad through
the country; I was very sorry when I heard of them, for it
was our Lord's good pleasure to let me know what the matter
was, and I feared the issue of it.
444 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. VI.
16. The confessor of that nun was a very great friend
of mine, and came to me with the story. I told' him what I
thought of the matter, and how it was loss of time ; that it
could not possibly be a trance, and that it was only weakness ;
he should forbid the fast and the disciplines; and make her
take some distraction. She, being an obedient nun, did so
and soon afterwards recovering her strength, thought no more
of her trance: and if it had been a real trance there would
have been no help for it until God wished it should cease ;
because the vehemence of the spirit is so great that we have
not strength enough to withstand it, and, as I said before,1
it leaves behind in the soul a great work, and in the body
weariness ; the other is as if it had never taken place.
17. The lesson to be learnt from this is, that whatever
masters us in such a way as to make us feel that our reason
is not free, should be looked on as suspicious, and that we
shall never in that way attain to liberty of spirit; one of the
characteristics of which is the finding God in all things, and
the being able to think of Him in the midst of them. Every
thing but this is subjection of spirit, and, besides the harm
it does to the body, it confines the soul and hinders its
growth ; as when men travel and come to a quagmire or a
marsh which they cannot pass, so is it, in a measure, with
the soul, which if it would make any progress, must not walk
only but fly.
18. Oh, if they say or think they are absorbed in God,
unable to exert themselves, so rapt are they, and unable to
change the current of their thoughts, and that it often happens,
let them look to it; I warn them again and again, if it be so
for a day, or for four, or for eight, there is no reason for fear,
because it is nothing wonderful that a person of weak con
stitution should remain so long in a state of amazement ; if it
continues longer, measures must be taken. The good side of
this is, that there is no guilt of sin and no loss of merit; but
it involves the inconveniences I have mentioned, with many
besides. As to communions, there will be a very grave incon
venience if a soul, because of its love, is not obedient with it
to the confessor and the prioress : nevertheless it may regret
the privation, not in excess, so as not to come to that. It is
necessary also herein, as in other ways, to mortify them, and
1 See § 5, above.
CH. VI.] DELUSIONS. 445
make them understand that it is better for them not to do
their own will than to have this consolation.
19. Our self-love also may thrust itself in here. It has
been so with me; for it has happened to me often when I had
first communicated, the Host being still almost whole, to
wish I had not communicated myself when I saw others do
so, in order that I might communicate again. As this hap
pened so often, I reflected on it after a time, for then there
seemed no reason for dwelling on it, and saw it came more
from my own satisfaction than from any love of God; for
when we go to communion there is a sense, for the most part,
of tenderness and joy, and I was carried away thereby. If
I went to communion in order to have God in my soul, I had
Him already; and if out of obedience to those who enjoined
communion, I had done so, if for the purpose of receiving
those graces which in the Most Holy Sacrament are given
us, these also I had received. In short, I came clearly to
understand that it was nothing else but a desire to obtain
that sensible sweetness over again.
20. This reminds me that in a place where I was once
staying, and where there is a monastery of our order, I knew
a woman who was a very great servant of God ; everybody
said so, and it must have been true. She went every day
to communion, and had no confessor in particular, but went
to one church for communion to-day, and the next to another.
I observed that, and wished to see her obeying one confessor
rather than going often to communion. She lived by herself,
and, as it seemed to me, doing what she liked ; but as she was
good herself, all was good. I used to speak to her sometimes
of this, but she did not heed me, and justly so, for she was
far better than I was; however, I did not think I was in the
wrong. The holy friar, Peter of Alcantara, came thither,1
and I made him speak to her, and was not pleased with the
account she gave him, — as to that, it may be nothing more
than our misery in being never much pleased with any per
sons but those whose ways are the same as ours, for this
woman, I believe, served our Lord more, and in one year did
more penance, than I in many. She fell into a sickness which
was unto death — this is what I am coming to — and found
1 As S. Peter of Alcantara died Oct. 18, 1562, the facts related by
the Saint in the text must have taken place when she was yet a nun
in the monastery of the Incarnation.
446 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. vi.
means to have mass said every day in her house and to receive
the Most Holy Sacrament. As her illness lasted some time,
a priest who frequently said the mass, and a great servant
of God, thought it not right to allow of this daily communion
in a house. It must have been a temptation of the devil, for
it happened on her last day, that on which she died. When
she saw mass ended, and herself without our Lord, she was
so displeased and so angry with the priest, who came, greatly
scandalised, to tell me of it. I was very sorry, for I do not
know whether she ever went to confession again. I believe
she died immediately afterwards.
21. From this I understood the evil that comes from
doing our own will in anything, especially in a matter of this
importance; for if a person draws near to receive our Lord
so often, it is only reasonable he should be so aware of his
own unworthiness as not to do so of his own will, and that
our shortcomings, necessarily great, which make us unfit to
approach our Lord, who is so great, can be supplied only by
obedience, which bids us receive Him. This good woman had
an opportunity of greatly humbling herself — and perhaps of
meriting more thereby than if she had communicated — by
considering that it was no fault of the priest, but that our
Lord, seeing her wretchedness, and how unworthy she was
to receive Him in a lodging so mean, had so ordained it.
22. That was what one person thought, when her wise
confessors from time to time would not let her communicate
because she did so too often. Though she felt it keenly, yet,
on the other hand, she preferred the honour of God to her
own, and did nothing but praise Him for having moved her
confessor to watch over her, and to see that His Majesty did
not go into so wretched a lodging. By the help of such reflec
tions she obeyed in great peace of soul, though with a tender
and loving pain ; but for all the whole world she never would
have done what she was forbidden to do.1
23. Believe me that love of God — I do not say it is love,
but only that it seems so, — if it stirs our feelings in such a
way as to end .in some offence against Him, or in so troubling
the peace of the loving soul that it cannot listen to reason,
is plainly self-seeking only; and Satan will not sleep over
1 It may be safely gathered from the praise of the confessors, and
the contempt of self expressed in this passage, that the Saint is
speaking of herself (De la Fuente}.
OH. VI. J DELUSIONS. 447
his work when he thinks he can do us the most harm, as he
did to this woman ; for certainly what happened to her alarmed
me greatly, not because I believe that it was enough to imperil
her salvation, for the goodness of God is great, but the tempta
tion came at a very dangerous time.
24. I have spoken of it in this place that the prioress
may be on her guard, and that the sisters may fear and con
sider, and examine themselves why they draw near to receive
so great a gift. If to please God, they know already that he
is better pleased by obedience than by sacrifice.1 If that be
so, and I merit more, why am I troubled? I do not say that
they are not to feel a lowly sorrow, because all have not
attained to the perfection of feeling none merely by doing
that which they know to be the more pleasing unto God;
for if the will is perfectly detached from all selfish con
siderations, it is clear that there will be no sense of pain; on
the contrary, there will be a great joy because the opportunity
has arrived for giving pleasure to our Lord by so costly a
sacrifice; the soul will humble itself, and be satisfied with
communicating spiritually. But as in the beginnings, and in
the end too, it is of the goodness of our Lord that we have
these great desires of drawing near unto Him, souls may be
allowed to feel some uneasiness and pain when they are
refused communion, yet they must possess their souls in peace,
and make acts of humility because of that refusal. I say
beginnings, because much must be made thereof, and because
the sisters are not so strong in the other matters pertaining
to perfection of which I have been speaking.
25. But if there should be any trouble, or anger, or im
patience with the prioress or confessor, believe me the desire
for communion is a plain temptation. Now, if any one is
bent on communicating when the confessor has forbidden her
to go to communion, I would not have the merit she may gain
thereby, because in such matters as this we must not be
judges for ourselves. He is to be the judge who has the power
of binding and loosing. May it please our Lord to give us
light, that we may be wise in matters of so much importance ;
and may we never be without His help, that we may not use
His graces so as to turn them into occasions of displeasino-
Him!
1 1 Kings xv. 22.
448 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. VII.
CHAPTER VII.
TREATMENT OF MELANCHOLY NUNS.
1. THESE my sisters of S. Joseph's in Salamanca, where
I am staying while writing this,1 have pressed me much to say
something about the treatment of melancholy; for, however
careful we may be not to admit nuns subject to it, the disease
is so subtle that it counterfeits death whenever it is necessary,
and accordingly we do not find it out till it is too late. I
think I have said something about it in a little book of mine:2
I do not remember: if I speak of it now there can be no
harm, if our Lord will be pleased to help me to do it aright
It may be that I have said it already at some other time : I
would say it a hundred times if I thought I could once say
anything that would be of any use. The devices which this
temper searches out for the purpose of doing its own will
are so many that it becomes necessary to look into them, to
enable us to bear with it and control it, lest it should do a
mischief to others.
2. It is to be observed that they are not all so trouble
some who are subject to melancholy; for humble and gentle
persons thus afflicted, though very troublesome to themselves,
never do any harm to others, especially if they have good
sense. And, moreover, there are varieties of this temper. I
verily believe that Satan lays hold of it in some people as a
means whereby to draw them to himself if he can, and he will
do so if they are not very careful : for, as the chief work of
this temper is to bring reason under its control, which then
becomes obscured, what then, under such conditions, will
our passions not do? They who have no reason, it seems,
1 It was in the year 1573, and atter August 24 of that year, the
Saint being at the time prioress of the monastery of the Incarnation,
Avila.
2 It has been susrsrested that Saint Teresa has written a book on
melancholy, now lost; but Don Vicente thinks she is speaking of her
"Way of Perfection/' in the beginning of which she speaks of the
character of those who are to become Carmelites of the Reform; and
that the objection is not worth much which is grounded on the
absence of any direct account of melancholy there, because the Saint
says that she does not remember whether she had written on the
subject. See Vol. I. Pref. p. xxv.
CH. VII.] MELANCHOLY. 449
must be mad, and so it is ; but in those of whom we are now
speaking the evil has not gone so far, and it would be a much
less evil if it had ; for to be obliged to live as a reasonable
person, and treat another as reasonable who has no reason,
is an unendurable hardship. Those who are altogether sick of
this malady are to be pitied, but they do no harm; and, if
there be any means whereby they may be kept under control,
those means are fear.
3. Those in whom this evil, which is so hurtful, has
only begun, though it may not have gained so much strength,
yet as it has the same nature and source, and because it
grows from the same root, it must be treated in the same way
if other remedies be not sufficient; the prioresses must have
recourse to the penances in force in the order, and strive to
bring under subjection nuns who thus suffer, that they may
feel they are never, and in nothing, to do their own will; for
if they find that their clamour, and the despondency into
which Satan casts them for the purpose of driving them if
he can to destruction, can at any time prevail, they are lost,
and one sister in this state is enough to disquiet a monastery.
As the poor soul has nothing in herself that can help her to
defend herself against the suggestions of the evil one, the
prioress must be very watchful in her direction of her, not
only outwardly but inwardly also, for reason, which in the
sickly sister is already darkened, ought to be the more clear
in the prioress, that the devil, making use of this weakness,
may not bring that soul under his own power.
4. The matter is dangerous; for at times this temper is
so overbearing as to conquer reason, and there is no sin
then, as there is none in madmen, whatever disorders they
may commit ; but it is necessary that those sisters who are
not so overcome, in whom reason is only weakened, not lost
altogether, and who are good at other times, should not, on
those occasions when they are afflicted, begin to take any
liberties, lest they should be unable when well to control
themselves, for the cunning of Satan is fearful. And accord
ingly, if we look into it, we shall find that what they are
most given to is the doing of their own will, saying whatever
comes into their head, observing the faults of others that they
may hide their own, and amusing themselves with that
wherein they find pleasure; in short, they are like a person
without the power of self-restraint. Then, with passions un-
450 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. VII.
mortified, and everybody bent on having their own way, what
will be the result if there be none to control them?
5. I say it again, for I have seen, and have had much
to do with, many persons troubled with this disease, that
there is no other remedy but to conquer them by every way
and means in our power. If words be not enough, have
recourse to penances, and let them be heavy if light penances
will not do: if one month's imprisonment be not enough, let
them be shut up for four; you cannot do their souls a greater
service. For, as I said 'before, and say again, it concerns them
to understand this : though once or occasionally they may
not be able to restrain themselves, it is not a confirmed mad
ness, whereby all blame is taken away ; though it may be so
at times, yet it is not so always, and the soul is in great
danger unless, as I say, they are so deprived of their reason as
to do or say those things which they do or say when they
cannot help themselves. It is of the great compassion of
God that those who are thus disordered are obedient to their
superior, for all their good consists in that amid the dangers I
speak of. And, for the love of God, let her, whoever she may
be, that reads this, look into it, for it -nay perhaps concern
her salvation.
6. I know some who very nearly lost their senses, but
who are so humble in spirit, and so afraid of offending God,
that, though in secret they waste away in weeping, yet do
only what they are commanded, and bear their infirmity like
the others. But this is a greater martyrdom, and they will
therefore have a greater glory, and in this life their purgatory
that they may not have it in the next. But I say it again,
that they who will not do this with a willing heart must be
compelled to submit by the prioress, and they must not delude
themselves by their indiscreet devotions in their disorder-
liness so as to be a trouble to all their sisters. It must be
done, because of another very grave evil over and above the
danger to the weak sister herself: for when the others see
her, to all appearance in good health, not knowing what her
soul suffers interiorly from the violence of her disorder — we
are naturally so miserable — they will all think themselves
subject to melancholy, that they may be borne with in the
same way : moreover, Satan will make them think so, and the
havoc he will then make will be, when found out, very difficult
to undo. So important is this that no negligence ought to be
CH. VII.] MELANCHOLY. 451
tolerated in the matter, and the melancholy sister, if dis
obedient to the superior, must suffer for it as if she were
in her right mind, and nothing must be forgiven her; if she
speaks in an unbecoming manner to any of her sisters she must
be punished as the others, and for every imperfection of the
same kind.
7. It seems unjust to punish the sick sister, when she
cannot help herself, as if she were well : so does it also to bind
madmen and to correct them, instead of leaving them free
to kill everybody. Trust me, for I have tried it, and I believe
have had recourse to many remedies, but never found any other
than this. And the prioress who, out of pity, will have allowed
these to begin with taking liberties, will not be able to bear
with them in the end ; and when she comes to correct them
she will rind that much harm has been done to the others.
If madmen are bound and chastised to keep them from killing
people (and that is rightly done ; yea, and seems a great kind
ness, because they cannot help themselves), how much more
must these sickly sisters be looked after, that they, with the
liberties they take, may not do harm to the souls of others !
And I really believe that the mischief comes very often, as I
am saying, from a spirit undisciplined, wanting in humility,
and badly trained, and that the melancholy temper is not so
strong as this. I say it is so in some, for I have seen them
obey, and control themselves in the presence of one they fear;
why, then, not do as much for God?
8. I am afraid that Satan, under the pretence of this
temper, seeks to gain many souls. It is more common in our
day than it used to be ; the reason is that all self-will and
licence are now called melancholy. I have therefore thought
that in these houses, and in all houses of religion, this word
should never be uttered, because it seems to bring licence
with it, and that the disorder it implies should be called a
serious illness — and how serious it is ! — and treated accord
ingly ; for it is very necessary at times to correct the peccant
humours by the use of medicines to make them tolerable ; and
the sister should be in the infirmary, and be made to under
stand that when she comes out to join the community she
must be humble like everybody else, and that if she is not
her melancholy shall be no defence for her, because that is
necessary for the reasons I have given, and I might give
more. It is necessary that the prioress, but without letting
452 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. VII.
them know it, should treat them with great tenderness, like a
true mother, and search out every means she can to cure them.
9. I seem to be contradicting myself for I have been
hitherto saying that they are to be severely dealt with. So I
say again ; they should never be allowed to feel that they may
have their own way, neither should they have it, it being
a settled thing that they shall be obedient, for the evil consists
in their feeling that they can have liberty. However, the
prioress may refrain from laying upon them a command which
she knows they will disobey; because they are not strong
enough to do violence to themselves ; she should manage them
and influence them by affection to do that which is required of
them, in order, if possible, to make them submit out of affec
tion, which will be far better and is generally successful when
the prioress shows them much affection, and makes them feel
it by her acts and words.
10. And the superiors must see that the best remedy
within their reach is to employ them largely in the duties
of the house, that they may have no opportunity of giving
way to their imagination, for all the mischief is there ; and
though they may not do their work very well, their faults must
be borne with, in order that there may be no occasion for
bearing with greater after they shall have been ruined. I
know this to be the most complete remedy that can be fur
nished them. Means also must be found to keep them in
general from spending too much time in prayer, seeing that
for the most part their imagination is weak, and that will
do them much harm ; if that be not done, they will be filled
with fancies, which neither they nor those who may hear of
them will ever be able to understand.
11. Care must be taken that they eat fish but rarely, and
it is necessary also that they should not fast so much as the
others. It may seem superfluous to give so much advice about
this evil and none about any other, when the evils of our
wretched lives are so grievous, especially those arising from
the weakness of women. There are two reasons for it: the
first is, they think themselves well, for they will not confess
that they suffer from this disorder ; and as their illness, not
being a fever, forces them neither to keep their bed nor to
call in the physician, the prioress must be their physician,
for the disease is more hurtful to perfection than is theirs
who, in danger of their life, remain in their beds.
CH. VIII.] MELANCHOLY. 453
12. The second reason is, that in other illnesses they
either recover or die ; but it is very rarely that people recover
from this or die of it either, but they lose all sense, and that
is a death which kills all the others. They carry about within
themselves a cruel death of sorrows, fancies, and scruples,
and therefore merit very much thereby, though they always
call them temptations ; for if they were once persuaded that all
flows out of this one evil they would be greatly relieved,
provided they made no account of it. Deeply, indeed, do I
feel for them, and it is right that all who are living with them
should feel for them in the same way, considering that our
Lord might have visited us with a like affliction; and above
all, bearing with them, as I said just now,1 without letting
them know that we are doing so. May our Lord grant that
I have found out what ought to be done with so °Tave a
malady !
CHAPTER VIII.
OF REVELATIONS AND VISIONS.
1. SOME people seem to be alarmed when they hear the
mere word visions or revelations. I know not why they look
on a soul which God is leading on by that way to be in so
perilous a road, nor whence this terror comes. I am not now
going to discuss visions, which of them are good and which
of them are evil, nor will I speak of the tests for distinguishing
them which most learned men have told me of, but only of
that which it would be well if every one did who should find
herself the subject of them, because she will meet with few
confessors who will not make her afraid. Certainly a con
fessor who is told of the manifold temptations of Satan, of
a spirit of blaspheming, disorderly and unseemly thoughts,
is not so much surprised by all this as he is scandalised when
told that we have seen an angel, or heard him speak, or that
Jesus Christ our Lord has appeared to us on the cross.
2. Neither will I discuss here the tests by which we
may know if the revelations be from God, for that is already
known by the great blessings they bring to the soul ; but
1 See § 8 above.
454 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. VIII.
only these images which Satan effects for the purpose of
deceiving- us when he assumes the likeness of Christ our
Lord or of His saints. I am persuaded myself that His
Majesty will never suffer him, nor give him the power, to
deceive anybody by such resemblance, unless such a person
be himself to blame; on the contrary, Satan will but deceive
himself. I repeat it, nobody will be deceived if only they are
humble ; there is therefore no reason for being downcast,
only let us trust in our Lord, and make no account of these
resemblances unless it be that we make them an occasion of
praising Him more and more.
3. I know of one whose confessors troubled her exceed
ingly because of these things, which afterwards, as far as
might be known by the great fruit and good issues of them,
were felt to be the work of God. It was very hard for her, when
she beheld His image in a vision, to treat that image with
contempt; for so she had been commanded to do.1 At a later
time she spoke of it to a deeply learned Dominican, the
master Fra Dominic Baiies, who told her it was wrong, and
that nobody ought to do that, because it is right to venerate
the image of our Lord wherever we may see it, even if the
devil himself had been the painter — and he is a great painter:
on the contrary, he is doing us a service, though seeking to do
us a mischief, if he paints a crucifix or an image so lifelike
as to leave an impression of it behind in our hearts.
4. This reason pleased me greatly, for when we see a
very good picture, even though we may know it to have been
painted by a bad man, we do not fail to respect it, and we
make no account of the painter, that we may not lose our
devotion ; for the good or the evil is not in the vision, but in
him to whom it is given, and who does not profit by it in
humility ; for if he is humble the vision even if it came from
Satan can do him no harm, and if he is not humble it will do
him no good even if it comes from God ; for if that which
should make the soul humble — seeing that it does not merit
that grace — makes it proud, that soul is like the spider, the
food of which is all turned into poison, and not like the bee
which turns it all into honey.
5. I wish to explain myself further: if our Lord of His
goodness is pleased to show himself to any soul, in order
1 It was the Saint herself, as she tells us in the Life, ch. xxix. § 6
and Inner Fortress, vi. ch. ix. § 7.
FIFTEENTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del
1. Caterina of Cardona, in the habit of the Reformed Carmelites. 2. Cave
near La Rocia where she lived, after a painting-. 3. Chest covered with crimson
velvet and fastened by bronze hinges, containing- her bones, among- them a part
of the skull and a leg- bone. 4. Villanueva de la Jara; in the middle distance the
back of the Carmelite monastery. 5. The Front of the same monastery and church.
Wine from Valdepenas carried in leather bottles. 6. Monastery turn and entrance
to the parlour, with the inscription, "Woe to me for the time that I have lost."
7. Tomb of Anne of St. Augustine, made in the thickness of the wall under the
ST. ANNE AT VILLANUEVA, DE LA JARA.
XXI.
Bruges, P Raoux £<
double grating of the lower choir. 8. Travelling hat and girdle of Anne of St.
Augustine. 9. Statuette of the Infant Jesus, replacing the one given by St. Teresa
to Anne of St. Augustine. 10. Earthen jar and dish which were given to her by a
Sister of Mercy. 11. E»resent monastery of EHscalced Carmelites at Valencia. 12. Arms
of the family Folch de Cardona, descended from the Kings of France and Aragon.
13. Arms of the Order of Mercy. 14. Arms of the city of Valencia. 15. Arms of
Villanueva de la Jara. (See Appendix, note 22.)
CH. VIII.] REVELATIONS AND VISIONS. 455
that it may know Him and love Him the more, or to reveal
to it any of His secrets, or to give it any special consola
tions and graces; and if that soul, as I have just said, bound
to abase itself and confess the scanty merits of its vileness,
looks forthwith upon itself as a saint, and, because of some
service or other it may have done, thinks that this grace has
been given it, it is plain that, like the spider, it changes the
great blessing which might have been the fruit of the visions
into something evil.
6. Let us admit, then, for a moment, that Satan, for the
purpose of stirring up pride, brings about these apparitions ;
yet if the soul at the time, thinking they come from God,
humbles itself, and confesses itself undeserving of a grace
so great, and does violence to itself that it may serve Him
better; if, when it sees itself rich, confessing itself unworthy
to eat the crumbs that fall from the table of those persons
of whom it has heard that they have received these graces
from God — I mean unworthy to be the servant of any of
them — it humbles itself, and begins in earnest to do penance,
and to give itself more unto prayer, and to be more careful
never to offend our Lord — for it thinks it is He who is the
giver of this grace — and to be more perfect in its obedience — •
then I assure it that Satan will never come again, but will
go away defeated, leaving behmd him no trace of evil in the
soul. If one is told to do anything, or has a revelation of
what is coming, she must refer it all to a learned and wise
confessor, and do and believe nothing but that which the con
fessor permits. Let her speak to the prioress that she may
send her a prudent confessor, and let her take his advice; if
she does not obey the confessor, and allow herself to be
directed by him, it comes from an evil spirit or a terrible
melancholy. For, supposing the confessor were in the wrong,
she would do better by not departing from what he tells her,
though it was an angel of God who had been speaking to her,
for our Lord will give him light or provide for the fulfilment
of his word ; there is no danger in doing this, but in doing
otherwise there may be many dangers and much evil.1
1 Jerome Gratian, of the Mother of God — Lucidario, pte. 2, ch.
xiii. fol. 75 — says that he once begged the Saint to pray for light in a
matter of very great importance. The Saint obeyed, and the answer
was that the thing was to be done. "Nevertheless," says the father,
"I did not do it, guiding myself by my reason. The Saint was silent
456 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. VIII.
7. It should be considered that natural weakness is
very weak, especially in women,1 and that it shows itself
the more in this way of prayer ; it therefore becomes necessary
we should not at once take it for granted that every little
fancy we may have is a vision ; for, believe me, the vision when
true will make itself understood. Much greater caution is
necessary when they are subject to melancholy, for I have
known fancies of that kind that have frightened me ; for
people may think seriously that they see what they do not
see. There came to me once a confessor who had heard the
confession of a certain person who told him that Our Lady
often came to her, sat down on her bed, remained talking to
her more than an hour, and told her things to come, and much
besides; amid so much folly some things were found to be
true, and so everything else was believed.
8. I saw at once what it was, but I did not dare to speak,
because we are living in a world wherein it is necessary
to consider what people may think of us if our words are to
have any effect. Accordingly, I said to the confessor that we
should wait to see whether the prophecies were true, that
he should ask for other tests, and find out what sort of a
life that person was living; in the end it was found out to be
all foolishness.
9. I could say so much of.these things as would be ample
for the proof of what I am saying, that a soul should not
believe at once, but should bide its time, and examine itself
carefully before it makes its visions known, lest it should,
without the wish to do so, deceive its confessor ; for if he has
and obeyed, for she was then my subject; but afterwards, doubting
of the correctness of my conduct in disregarding the revelation, I
asked her again to pray that we might know whether we were doing
right. The answer to me was that our Lord had spoken to her thus:
'Thou hast done well to obey, for in so doing none can go wrong:
what I said in the beginning was much better, but that which thou
hast done under obedience I will make more fruitful, though it may
cost thee more labour.' And so it came to pass."
1 Major cautio erga foeminas adhibenda, quarum sexus eo suspec-
tior est quo imbecellior. Naturre sunt humidioris, ut ex vehementia
cogitationum et affectuum putant se videre qure cupiunt, et quod ab
animi perturbationibus nascitur, quse in ipsis acerrimre sunt, a veritate
oriri credunt: cumque ratione minus polleant, non est difficile diabolo
earum nativa imbecillitate uti, ut eas primum variis illusionibus deci-
piat, et per easdem alios in errores inducat (Card. Bona, de Discretions
Spirituum, ch. xx. § 3).
CH. VIII.] REVELATIONS AND VISIONS. 457
had no experience himself herein, however learned he may be,
he will never be able to understand it. It is not many years ago
but very lately, that a man disturbed exceedingly some very
learned and spiritual persons with matters of this kind ; at
last he went to speak to one who had had experience of these
gifts of our Lord, and who saw clearly that it was madness
with delusions. However, the matter was not exposed at the
time, but kept most secret; by degrees our Lord made it
thoroughly known ; but that person who saw into the matter
had much to suffer first, because nobody would believe him.
10. For these reasons, and others of the same kind, it
is the duty of each sister to make known to the prioress with
great openness her way of prayer, and the latter must care
fully consider the temper of that sister and the degree of
perfection to which she may have attained, that she may
instruct the confessor so as to enable him to understand her
better; and she should choose a confessor for the purpose if
the ordinary confessor is not sufficiently acquainted with
things of this kind. She must be very careful that matters
such as these revelations and visions, though most truly from
God, and graces confessedly miraculous, be not divulged to
persons outside the monastery, nor to confessors who have not
the wisdom to keep them secret, for this is a most serious
point, and more serious than they think, nor may the sisters
discuss them among themselves. The prioress herself must
be always ready to listen prudently, more inclined, however,
to commend those who excel in humility, mortification, and
obedience than those whom God is leading by this most super
natural way of prayer, though they may be endowed with
every other virtue. For, if it be the spirit of our Lord that is
working in them, He brings in His train humility to enable
them to bear neglect with joy, and such treatment therefore
will not harm them, and does great good to the others. As
they cannot attain to these extraordinary graces, for God
gives them to whom He will, let their anxiety be for the
attainment of other virtues, for, though these also are the gift
of God, they are more in our power, and are of great worth in
religion. May His Majesty bestow them upon us ! If we
exercise ourselves in them, are diligent in the pursuit of them,
and in prayer for them, He will not refuse them to any one
who, in reliance on His compassion, shall labour to attain to
them.
458 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. IX.
CHAPTER IX.
THE FOUNDATION OF S. JOSEPH, MALAGON.
1. How I have wandered from my purpose ! and yet
some of the advice I have given may be more to the purpose
than the account of the foundations. During my stay in the
house of S. Joseph in Medina del Campo,1 it was a great joy
to me to see how the sisters were walking in the way of those
of S. Joseph's of Avila, in all religious observances, sisterly
love, and spirituality; and how our Lord was providing in
the house what was necessary for the church as well as for
the sisters. Nuns came in whom our Lord seems to have
chosen Himself, such as became the foundation of such a
building: I think that all the good that is to come lies in
these beginnings, for those who come in afterwards walk in
the way which they find prepared for them.
2. There lived in Toledo a lady, sister of the duke of
Medina Cell, and in whose house I had been staying by the
commandment of my superiors, as I have largely set forth in
the account of the foundation of S. Joseph's.2 She conceived
a special affection for me, and that must have been in some
way a means to move her to do what she did, for His Majesty
very often makes use of means which to us who know not
what is coming seem to be of little worth. When this lady
heard that I had authority to found monasteries, she began
to press me very much to found one in the town of Malagon,3
which belonged to her. I would not hear of it at all, because
it was so small a place, and because I should be forced to
accept an endowment for our maintenance, and I had a very
great dislike to do that.
3. I laid the matter before learned men and my con
fessor;4 they told me I was in the wrong, for the holy council5
From the Assumption to the end of October, 1567.
See Life, ch. xxxiv.
See note at the end of ch. iii. * Dominic Banes.
6 Concedit sancta synodus omnibus monasteriis et domibus, tarn
virorum quam mulierum et mendicantium— exceptis domibus fratrum
Sancti Francisci Cappucinorum et eorum qui Minorum de observantia
vocantur— etiam quibus aut ex constitutionibus suis erat prohibitum,
aut ex privilegio Apostolico non erat concessum, ut demceps bona
immobilia eis possidere liceat (Condi. Trident, sess. 25 de Regular
ca. 3).
CH. IX.] MALAGON. 459
authorised the possession of revenues ; that I ought not, be
cause of any opinion I held on the subject, to give up the
foundation of a house wherein our Lord might be so well
served. Added to this were the urgent requests of that lady,
and I could therefore do no less than accept the foundation.
She gave us a sufficient endowment, for I always wished the
monasteries to be either altogether poor or to possess enough
so that the nuns should never be forced to beg of anybody for
that which might be necessary for them.
4. I insisted with all my might that no nun should pos
sess anything of her own, and on the perfect observance of
the constitutions as in other houses founded in poverty. When
all the deeds were drawn up I sent for certain sisters1 for
the foundation, and went with the lady to Malagon, but the
house was not yet prepared for us, and so we were lodged
for more than a week in one of the rooms of the castle.
5. On Palm Sunday, 1568, the parishioners came in pro
cession to receive us, and we in our white mantles, with our
veils over our faces, went with them to the church, where
a sermon was preached, and from which the Most Holy
Sacrament was carried into our monastery. It was a cause
of much devotion in all. I remained there some days. One
day in prayer, after communion, I heard our Lord say that
He would be greatly honoured in that house. I think I was
there not quite two months,2 for I was pressed in spirit to
found the house in Valladolid ; and the reason was what I am
going now to tell.
1 The Saint left Alcala for Toledo before Lent, 1568, with the two
nuns, Anne of the Angels and Antonia of the Holy Ghost, and sent
to Avila for Mary of the Blessed Sacrament, Mary Magdalene, Isabel
of Jesus, and Isabel of S. Joseph. She left Toledo in Lent, and
reached Malagon before Passion Sunday with her nuns, and Dona
Luisa came with them (Ribera, lib. ii., ch. xi). While looking for a
site for her monastery with the parish priest and the mayor, she
said when they came to a convenient spot, "This must be left for the
barefooted friars of S. Francis." Some years afterwards those friars
came to Malagon ,and built their monastery there (Reforma de los
Descalqos, lib. ii. ch. xi. § 3).
2 The Saint 7ame to Malagon in the very beginning of April, and,
according to her letter to Dona Luisa de la Cerda, went away on May
19th (Lett. 2; but Lett. 4 of vol. iii. ed. Doblado). The first prioress
of Malagon was Mother Anne of the Angels, whom the Saint had
taken years before from the monastery of the Incarnation, Avila
(Reforma de los Descal^os, lib. ii. ch. xi. § 7).
460 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. X.
CHAPTER X.
THE FOUNDATION IN VALLADOLID OF THE MONASTERY . OF THE
CONCEPTION OF OUR LADY OF CARMEL.
1. FIVE or six months before the foundation of the monas
tery of S. Joseph in Malagon, a young man,1 a member of a
noble family, talking to me, said that if I would found a
monastery in Vallaclolid he would joyfully give a house he
had there with a large and fine garden, within which was a
considerable vineyard, and possession of it at once ; it was of
great value. I accepted it, but I had not fully made up my
mind to make a foundation there, because it was a quarter of
a league from the city.2 I thought, however, we might make
our way into the city if once we had possession of that place,
and, as he made the offer so generously, I was unwilling to
refuse it or to trouble his devotion.
2. About two months after this, more or less, he became
suddenly and rapidly ill, lost the power of speaking, and was
unable to make his confession clearly, though he was, as he
showed by many signs, praying to our Lord for pardon. He
very soon died, far enough from the place where I was then
staying.3 Our Lord spoke to me and said that his salvation
had been in serious danger, and that He had had compassion
upon him because of the good work he had done for His
Mother in giving his house for a monastery of her order;
nevertheless he would be detained in purgatory till the first
mass should be said there, when he would be delivered. The
dread penalties of this soul were so constantly before me
1 Don Bernardino de Mendoza, brother of the bishop of Avila, and
son of the count of Ribadavia (Reforma de los Dcscalqos, lib. ii. ch.
v. § 9).
2 Nuns are forbidden by the council of Trent to live outside cities
. . . Et quia monasteria sanctimonialium, extra moenia urbis vel
oppidi constituta, malorum hominum prsedss et aliis facinoribus, sine
ulla saepe custodia sunt exposita, curent episcopi et alii superiores,
si ita videbitur expedire, ut sanctimoniales ex eis ad nova vel antiqua
monasteria intra urbes vel oppida frequentia reducentur, invocato
etiam auxilio, si opus fuerit, brachii ssecularis. (Sess. xxv. de reg.
et mon., c. 5.)
3 Don Bernardino died in Ubeda, when the Saint was in the
monastery of Maria of Jesus, in Alcala de Henares (Ribera, lib. ii. ch.
12).
CII. X.] VALLADOLID. 461
that, though I wished to found a house in Toledo,1 I gave it
up for the time, and made all the haste I could to found, as
well as I could, the house in Valladolid.
3. It could not be done so quickly as I wished, for I was
detained for many days in S. Joseph's, Avila, of which I had
the charge, and again in S. Joseph's in Medina del Campo, for
I went thither;2 and there one day in prayer our Lord bade
me make haste, for that soul was in great suffering. Though
I had not made many preparations I set about the work, and
entered Valladolid on the feast of S. Lawrence. As I looked
at the house I fell into great distress, for I saw how foolish
it would be for nuns to remain there, except at a very great
cost; though the place was pleasant to behold, because the
garden was so charming, it could not fail to be unwholesome,
for it was close to the river.
4. Though I was tired I had to hear mass in a monastery
of our order, at the entrance of the city, and so far away that
it made my sufferings twice as great. Nevertheless I said
nothing to those who were with me, lest I should discourage
them, for, though weak, I had some confidence that our Lord,
who had told me what I have just related, would come to our
help. I sent for workmen in the utmost secrecy, and began
to have the ruined walls filled up with clay to secure our
privacy, and to do whatever else was necessary. The eccle
siastic of whom I spoke before,3 Julian of Avila, and one4 of
the two friars already mentioned, who wished to become a
discalced, and was learning our way of living, were with us.
Julian of Avila was occupied in obtaining the licence of the
1 At this time the Saint, having written her Life the second time,
sent it to Juan of Avila, by whose judgment, according to the advice
of the inquisitor Soto, she was to abide. From Toledo she writes
to her friend Dona Luisa de la Cerda on the feast of the Ascension,
May 27, 1568, and from Avila in June. See below, ch. xiii. § 2.
2 Ch. x. § S. See ch. xiii. The Saint, on her way to Medina from
Avila, visited the site offered her by Don Rafael Megia Velasquez for
the monastery of the friars in Duruelo, possession of which was taken
by St. John of the Cross and his companions in the autumn (Reforma
de los Descal<;os, lib. ii. ch. xiv. §§ 2, 3. See below, ch. xiii. § 2).
3 Ch. iii. § 2.
4 See ch. iii. § 16. S. John of the Cross and Antonio de Heredia,
the former of whom was then with the Saint. Fra Antonio had been
left at Medina (Reforma, lib. ii. ch. xiv. § 5).
462 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. X.
ordinary, who had given us hopes of it before I arrived.1 We
could not get the licence soon enough, for the Sunday came
before it could reach us ; however, they gave us leave to have
mass said where we were to have our church, and accordingly
it was said there.2
5. I was very far from thinking that what had been said
to me of that soul was to be fulfilled then, for, though I was
told it would be at the first mass, I thought the mass must
be that during which the Most Holy Sacrament would be
reserved. When the priest was coming towards us to the
place where we were to communicate, with the Most Holy
Sacrament in his hands, and myself drawing near to receive
Him, I saw that nobleman, of whom I spoke before, close
to the priest : his face was bright and shining, -his hands were
joined together, and he thanked me for what I had done to
enable him to depart out of purgatory and ascend to heaven.
And indeed, I was very far from thinking so, and in sadness
enough, when I was first told that he was in the way of sal
vation : it seemed to me that he needed another kind of
death, considering the life he led, for, though he was very
good, his life was worldly. It is true he had told my com
panions that he always thought of death. It is very wonderful
how pleasing to our Lord is any service whatever done to His
Mother, and His mercy is great. Bless Him and praise Him
for ever who thus rewards our mean services with everlasting
life and blessedness, and makes them great when they are in
themselves but little worth.
6. On the feast of the Assumption of our Lady, August
15, 1568, we took possession of the monastery. We remained
there but a short time, for nearly all of us fell very ill. A
lady there living observed it, who was Dona Maria de Men-
1 The Saint, from Duruelo, the morning after her visit to that
place, had sent Julian of Avila to Olmedo, where the bishop was at
the time, to treat about the foundation, and to obtain letters from hi'm
to the abbot of Valladolid, whose jurisdiction at that time was quasi-
episcopal, but subject to the bishop of Valencia (Re forma de los
Descalgos, lib. ii. ch. xiv. § 4; lib. v ch. xiii. § 2). Valladolid became
an episcopal church only in 1595, the first bishop of which was Don
Pedro Laptaza. •
2 The vSaint reached Valladolid on Thursday, August 10, 1568, and
on the following Sunday heard mass in the Carmelite monastery, but
on Sunday, August 20, mass was said by Julian of Avila in the
monastery founded by herself (Reforma. lib. ii. ch. xv § 2).
CH. X.] VALLADOLID. 463
doza,1 wife of the knight commander Cobos,2 mother of the
marquis of Camarasa, a most perfect Christian, and most
charitable, as her abundant alms bear ample witness. She
had been very kind to me formerly when I had much to do
with her, for she is the sister of the bishop of Avila, who
helped us much in the foundation of the first monastery, and
in everything touching the order.3 As she was so charitable,
and saw that we could not remain but under great difficulties,
because it was a long way to send alms to us, and because
the place was unhealthy, she told us to give up that house,
that she would find us another; and so she did, and the one
she gave us was worth much more; besides, she supplied all
that was needful for us to this present time, and will do so
so long as she shall live.
7. On the feast of S. Blasius we went to our new house
in a grand procession, and with much devotion on the part
of the people, which it still retains ; for our Lord works many
graces in the house, and has brought souls into it whose
sanctity shall be recorded at the proper time, to the praise
of our Lord, who by means of them was pleased to magnify
His works, and to show mercy to His creatures.4 For there
came one to us here in her early youth who showed us what
the world is by despising it. I have thought it well to speak
of her now, that they who love the world so much may be
put to shame, and that from her example young girls to whom
our Lord sends good inspirations and desires may learn how
to act upon them.
8. There lives here a lady, Dona Maria de Acufia, sister
1 The prioress appointed by the Saint was Isabel of the Cross.
Dona Maria took all the nuns into her own house when she found
their health failing, assigned them rooms for their devotion, and kept
them till February 3rd in the following- year, when they removed to
the new monastery, as the Saint tells us in the next paragraph
(Re forma de los Descalqos, lib. ii. ch. xv. § 5).
2 Don Francisco de los Cobos.
The Saint, writing in February, 1570, to her brother Don
Lorenzo, speaks of Dona Maria de Mendoza in these terms:— "About
a year ago I had a fever, but I am now all the better for it. I was
busy with the foundation in Valladolid, and Dona Maria de Mendoza,
widow of secretary Cobos, killed me with kindness. She has a great
affection for me" (Lett, xviii.; but Lett. xxx. vol. i. ed. Doblado).
4 What follows of this, and the whole of the next, chapter, were
omitted in the earlier editions, and were consequently omitted in all
the translations except that of the F. Bouix, S. J.
464 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. X.
of the count of Buendia, who had married the president of
Castille. He died when she was still young, and left her with
three children, one son and two daughters. She then began
to live a life of such great sanctity, and to bring up her children
so religiously, as to merit their vocation from our Lord. I
have made a mistake — she had three daughters: one became
forthwith a nun,1 another refused marriage, and lived a most
edifying life with her mother. In his early youth the son
began to understand what the world is, and Gcd to call him
into religion in such a way that nobody could move him from
his purpose. His mother looked on with such great joy that
she must have been helping him by her prayers to our Lord,
though she did not let it be known, on account of their kindred.
In short, if our Lord will have a soul come to Him no crea
ture in the world is strong enough to hinder it. So it was here.
The youth, though kept back by much importunity for three
years, entered the Society of Jesus. This lady said to her
confessor,2 from whom I have it, that her heart was never so
full of joy in her life as on the day when her son made his
profession.
9. O Lord, what a grand grace is that which Thou givest
those to whom Thou givest such mothers — mothers who love
their children so truly as to wish them to find their inherited
dignities, entailed estates, and wealth in that blessedness
which will never end ! What a sad thing it is the world is
so wretched and blind that fathers think their honour lies
in not suffering memorials of their having been owners of the
dunghills of this world's goods to perish, and in the preser
vation of that which sooner or later must come to an end !
and everything of which there is to be an end, however lasting,
is perishing, and deserves but scanty consideration. Parents,
at the cost of their own poor children, are resolved to maintain
their vanity, and boldly withhold from God the souls He is
drawing to Himself, and from those souls so great a blessing ;
for, though it be not one that is to last for ever, it is one to
which God calls them, it being a very great one to be delivered
from the weariness and exactions of the world, and they are
heaviest upon those whose possessions are the largest. Open
their eyes; O my God ; teach them what that love is which
1 In the monastery of the Dominican nuns in Valladolid (Bouix}.
2 F. Jerome Ripalda, rector of the house of the Jesuits Professed
in Valladolid
CH. X.] VALLADOLTD. 465
they are bound to have for their children, that they may not
do them so much harm, and that their children may not
complain of them before God on the day of their final judg
ment, when they shall learn, whether they like it or not, what
everything is worth.
10. Then, when, through the compassion of God, Don
Antonio de Padilla, the noble child of the noble lady Maria
de Acuna, quitted the world at the age of seventeen, more or
less, the elder daughter, Dona Luisa, became heir to his
estates ; the count of Buendia had no children, and Don An
tonio was heir to his title as well as to the presidency of Cas-
tille. But, as that does not belong to my subject, I say
nothing of all he had to suffer at the hands of his kindred
before he carried out his purpose. He will understand who
knows how much people of the world make of having an heir
in their families.
11. O Jesus Christ our Lord, King over all things, Son
of the Everlasting Father, what hast Thou left in the world
for us Thy children to inherit? What were Thy possessions?
Only toil, and sorrow, and insult. Thou hadst nothing but
the hard wood to rest on when undergoing the bitter anguish
of death. Ah, my God, it is not fitting that we should run
away from suffering if we would be Thy children indeed,
and not renounce the inheritance. Thine armorial bearings
are five wounds ; then, my children, that must be also our
device if we are to inherit His kingdom. It is not ease, nor
comfort, nor honours, nor riches that will obtain for us what
He purchased by so much blood. O ye of noble birth, open
your eyes for the love of God ; behold the true soldiers of
Jesus Christ and the princes of His church. A S. Peter,
a S. Paul never travelled by your road. Perhaps you think
that a new road has been made for you : believe it not. See
how our Lord began to show you the road by means of per
sons, young as they are, of whom I am now speaking. I
have occasionally seen and spoken to Don Antonio : he wished
his possessions had been greater that he might have had more
to leave. Blessed children both of them, whose merits were
so great in the eyes of. God, at an age when the world
usually rules the dwellers in it, that they were able to trample
it under their feet. Blessed be He who wrought in them so
great a work !
12. Then, when the elder sister succeeded to the honours
466 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [cH. X.
of her house, she did with them as her brothers had done;
for she had from her earliest years so given herself unto prayer
(it is in prayer that our Lord gives us light to see the truth)
that she esteemed them as lightly as her brother had done. O
my God, what troubles and vexations, what litigation — yea,
what risks of life and honour, many would have undergone
for the succession to this inheritance! The troubles of these
two were not light when they had agreed to give it up. So
is the world — how clearly it shows us its follies if we were
not blind ! With her whole heart, then, in order to be delivered
from this inheritance, did she renounce it in favour of her
sister, for there was nobody else to accept it, who was about
ten or eleven years of age. Her kindred at once, in order that
the melancholy monuments of earthly dignities might not
perish, arranged her marriage with one of her uncles, a brother
of her father, obtained a dispensation from the sovereign Pon
tiff, and betrothed her.
13. It was not our Lord's pleasure that a daughter of
such a mother, a sister of such a brother and sisters, should
be any more deceived than they were, and accordingly what
I am now going to tell came to pass. The child began to
wear the dress and ornaments which became her rank, and
which might have influenced her at so tender an age, but
she had hardly been betrothed two months when our Lord
Himself began to give her light, though she at the time did
not clearly see it. Having spent the day, to her own great
joy, with her bridegroom, whom she loved with an affection
beyond her years, she fell into a profound sorrow, thinking
how the day was ended, and that every other day must
be ended in the same way. Oh, how grand is God ! that very
joy which she received from the joy she had in perishable
things became hateful to her. Then arose a sadness so great
as to be more than she could hide from her bridegroom. She
did not know whence it came, nor could she account for it,
even when he asked her the cause of it.
14. At this time the bridegroom had a journey to make
which would take him far away from the place, and she felt it
deeply, because she loved him so much. But our Lord revealed
to her then the source of her suffering — that her soul was
yearning after that which never ends, and she began to see that
her brother and sisters had taken the safest course, and had
left her behind amid the dangers of the world. The thought of
CH. XI.] DONA CASILDA. 467
this, on the one hand, and, on the other, of there being no help
for it (for she did not know till later, when she made inquiries,
that notwithstanding her betrothal she might yet become
a nun), kept her sad, and, above all, her love for him who
was to be her husband hindered her from coming to any
resolution, and thus her days were passed in much heaviness.
But, as our Lord meant to have her for Himself, He took
away from her that love, and the desire of giving up all things
grew within her. At this time her only wish was her own
salvation, and the iinding out the best way for that end; for
she thought if she gave herself more to the things of the
world she might forget to strive after that which is eternal.
God filled her with wisdom at this tender age to seek the
means of gaining that which never ends.
15. O happy soul, to come forth so early out of the dark
ness in which many who are old are lost! As soon as she
saw her affections were free she made up her mind to give
them wholly unto God — for until then she had kept her own
secret — and began to speak to her sister of her state. The
sister, looking on it as a childish fancy, dissuaded her from
her purpose, and among other things told her that she could
be saved in the state of marriage. She replied, "Why, then,
did you renounce that state for yourself?" Thus it went on
for some days, and her good desires were growing always;
her mother, however, did not dare to speak, but perhaps after
all it was she who, by her holy prayers, was carrying on the
warfare.
CHAPTER XL
DONA CASILDA DE PADILLA.
1. IT came to pass at this time that we had to give the
habit to a lay sister — sister Stephany of the Apostles1 — in the
1 Stephany of the Apostles, daughter of Fernando Gallo and
Maria Sanchez of Pedroza de Campos, was born on the morrow of the
Nativity, December 26, 1549. From her very earliest years, and
before the age of reason in children, she gave herself to penance
and continual prayer. As she grew in years she grew also in natural
beauty and grace, and was, with the more than consent of her father
and mother, sought in marriage. To escape from the importunities
468 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XI.
monastery of the Conception. I may speak hereafter of her
vocation, for, though of a different condition of life — she
was but a peasant — yet, because of the great graces which
God wrought in her, she deserves, for the honour of His
Majesty, that I should make some record of her. When she
was to take the habit, Doiia Casilda — for that was the name
of this beloved of our Lord — came to the ceremony with her
grandmother, the mother of her bridegroom. She conceived
a very great liking for the monastery, and thought that our
Lord was better served by the nuns, because they were few
in number and poor. Still she had not at this time made up her
mind to give up her bridegroom, and he it was, as I said
before, who held her back the most.
2. She remembered that she was accustomed, before she
was betrothed, to spend a certain time in prayer, for her
mother, in her goodness and saintliness, had thus brought her
up with her brother and sisters. From the time they were
seven years old she used to take them with her into her oratory
at certain hours, and teach them how to meditate on the
Passion of our Lord. She made them go often to confession,
and accordingly she saw her good desires to bring them up
for God so amply rewarded. She has told me herself that
she used to offer up her children to God, and implore Him to
take them out of the world, for she was no longer deluded
as to the scanty esteem in which it should be held. I think
at times how they will thank their mother when they see
themselves in the fruition of everlasting bliss, and that it was
with which she was pursued, she took refuge in Medina de Rioseco,
in Leon, in the house of her sister. She then went to live with Dona
Maria de Vesgas, who, discerning her sanctity, offered to provide
her dower if she entered religion. The young man who sought her
in marriage now came to trouble her again, whereupon she took refuge
in a monastery of St. Clare. From the monastery she was withdrawn
by Dona Maria, who quarrelled with the nuns, and then her father sent
for her to Pedroza de Campos. There she heard our Lord say to
her, ''Go to Valladolid," and she went, and became there a penitent
of F. Jerome Ripalda, S. J. Under his direction — staying at the time in
the house of Dona Maria de Acuna — she presented herself at the mon
astery founded by S. Teresa, which she entered on the feast of S.
Mark, 1572, in the twenty-third year of her age. She received the
habit on the feast of the Visitation, July 2 of that year, and was pro
fessed as a lay sister August 6, 1573, and died in the odour of sanctity
June 11, 1617, in the sixty-eight year of her age (Reforma, lib. xiv. ch,
xxxi. — xxxiv.).
CH. XI.] DONA CASILDA. 469
she who helped them; and I think too of her accidental joy
in seeing them, and how different it will be with those fathers
and mothers who have not brought up their children as
children of God — and they are more His than theirs — when
they all meet together, both the one and the other, in hell,
uttering curses, hopelessly lost.
3. To return to my story. When Dona Casilda saw that
even saying the rosary was no longer a pleasure to her she
feared that she might become even worse and worse, and
thought she saw clearly that by coming to this house she could
make her salvation certain. She therefore made up her mind
altogether, and one morning she and her sister came here
with their mother, and, as it happened, all entered the monas
tery, but without any suspicion that she was going to do what
she did. When she found herself inside no one could thrust
her out. She cried so earnestly that she might be left, and
she used such words as astonished everybody. Her mother,
though in her heart glad, was afraid of her kindred, and would
not have her remain, lest it should be said that she was doing
this by her persuasion ; the prioress also was of the same mind,
for she looked on her as a child, and thought that there ought
to be a longer trial of her vocation. This was in the morning;
they had to remain there till the evening, and to send for her
confessor and for the father master Friar Dominic,1 who was
mine, of whom I spoke in the beginning, but I was not there
at the time myself. That father saw at once that this was
the work of the Spirit of God, and gave her great help, while
having much to bear with at the hand of her kindred. So
indeed ought all men to do who pretend to serve God, when
they see a soul called by Him, nor must they be led by the
prudence of men. He promised his help to her for her coining
back another day. She went away this time, but after earnest
importunities, lest they should blame her mother. Her good
desires continued even to grow stronger.
4. Her mother began to speak privately to her kindred,
and the secret was kept from coming to the knowledge of
the bridegroom. They spoke of it all as childishness, and said
she must wait till she became of age, for she was not yet
twelve years old. She replied to this by saying, as they
thought her old enough to be married and left in the world,
how came it that they did not find her old enough to give
1 Fra Dominic Banes. See ch. viii. § 3, and ch. ix. § 3.
470 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XI.
herself to God? She spoke in such a way as made it plain
it was not she herself who was speaking. The matter could
not be kept so secret as to escape the knowledge of the bride
groom. When she found that he was aware of it she did
not think it well to wait for him, and on the feast of the
Conception, when in the house of her grandmother, who
was also her mother-in-law, but who knew nothing of the
matter, she asked her to let her go out with her governess. The
grandmother, to please her gave her consent, and she went
out in a carriage with her servants. To one of them she gave
some money, and asked him to wait for her at the gate of this
monastery with a bundle of faggots, and had herself driven
about in such a way that they brought her by the house.
When she had come in front of the gate she told her servants
to ask at the wicket for a goblet of water, without saying for
whom, and descended quickly from the carriage ; they said the
water would be brought to her, but she would not have it so.
The faggots were already there, and she bade her people tell
them in the monastery to come to the door for them. She
stood close by the faggots, and when the door opened. hurried
within, throwing her arms around our Lady, weeping, and
praying the prioress not to send her away.
5. The servants raised a loud cry, and knocked violently
at the door. She went to the grating to speak to them, told
them that nothing should ever make her come out, and they
must go and tell her mother. The women who were in
attendance upon her made pitiful lamentations, but nothing
moved her. Her grandmother, when she was told of it, would
go at once to the monastery. However, neither she herself,
nor an uncle, nor the bridegroom himself, who, when he came,
found means to converse much with her at the grating, did any
thing else but increase her distress when they were with her,
and leave her more determined than before. The bridegroom
o
said to her, after many piteous complainings, that she could
serve God more by giving alms ; whereupon she bade him,
by way of reply, give alms himself. In answer to everything
else from him she replied that she was under greater obliga
tions to work out her own salvation, that she knew herself
to be weak, and could not save herself amid the dangers of the
world ; that he had no reason to complain of her, for she had
left him only for God, and that she did him no wrong thereby.
When she saw that he was not satisfied she arose and left
CH. XI.] DONA CASILDA. 471
him. He made no impression whatever upon her; she was
on the whole disgusted with him; for the temptations and
annoyances which Satan stirs up become rather a help to
that soul to whom God sends the light of the truth. It is
His Majesty Himself who is fighting on its behalf. It was
so visibly now, for it did not seem as if Casilda herself were
the speaker.
6. When the bridegroom and her kindred saw how little
influence they had to bring her out with her own consent
they took means to drag her out by force, and so they pro
cured an order from the king, in virtue of which they could
take her out and restore her to her liberty. During her
stay in the monastery, which was from the feast of the Con
ception to that of the Innocents, when they took her away, she
never wore the habit, but she observed all the rules of the
house as if she had been clothed, and that with the greatest
joy. On that day they carried her into the house of a noble
man, for the officers of justice came for her. She wept griev
ously as they were taking her away, asking them why they
tormented her, and saying that they would gain nothing by
what they were doing. Religious as well as others now talked
earnestly to her: some thought her conduct childish, and
others wished her to retain her rank in the world. I should
become very tedious if I were to recount all the discussions
that took place, and how .she extricated herself out of them
all. They were amazed at the things she said. When they
saw that they could not influence her they took her to her
mother's house, there to be kept for a time. Her mother
was weary of so much trouble, and gave her no help whatever :
on the contrary, she seemed to be against her. It may be that
her mother was only trying her; at least, she told me so after
wards, and she is so saintly that whatever she says is to be
believed. However, the child did not so understand her. Her
confessor also was extremely opposed to her, so that she had
no help but in God, and in a young woman in her mother's
service who consoled her.
7. Thus she lived in great weariness and distress till
she was twelve years old : then she found it was proposed,
now that they could not hinder her profession, to make her
enter the monastery in which her sister was, because it w; s
not so severe. She, when she saw this, determined to find
some means or other for carrying out her resolution, and ac-
472 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XI.
cordingly one day, going with her mother to mass, while
the latter went into the confessional in the church, she asked
her governess to go and request one of the fathers to say
mass for her. When she saw her gone, she put her clogs in
her sleeves, and taking up her dress, ran in all haste towards
this monastery, which was a good way off. The governess,
not finding her in the church, rushed after her, and as she
was drawing near to her asked a man to stop her. The
man said afterwards that he found himself unable to stir, and
so let her go. Casilda, having entered by the outer door of the
monastery, shut it, and began to call cut; when the governess
arrived she was already within the monastery, and the nuns
gave her the habit at once. Thus the good beginning, the
work of our Lord in her, was brought to a good ending.
8. His Majesty began to reward her immediately with
spiritual graces, and she to serve Him with the greatest joy,
in the deepest humility, and detachment from all things.
May He be blessed for ever who thus made her, who had been
once so fond of most rich and costly garments, take pleasure
in the poor robe of serge ! It could not, however, hide her
beauty, for our Lord had given to her natural as well as
spiritual graces ; in her manners and her understanding she
was so winning that she moved everybody to give God thanks
for them. May His Majesty grant that there be many who
thus answer to His call I1
1 Dona Casilda made her profession as Casilda of the Conception,
13th January, 1577, at the age of fourteen, in virtue of a dispensation
of the pope, Gregory XIII. (note of De la Fuente on Lett. 139,
published by him for the first time). With all her wealth, she went
poor to the monastery, for her family gave her no dowry, but paid
the monastery for her food and lodging year by year. In the dis
tribution of the unsettled property of the family it seems that the
brother had so large a share — which went to the house of the Jesuits
in Valladolid, where he was then living — that the Carmelites received
nothing. There was some litigation, therefore, between the Jesuits
and the Carmelites, but without any gain to the latter (note of De la
Fuente to Lett. 126 published hitherto as fragment 64, vol. iv. ed.
Doblado). Dona Casilda left the monastery in September, 1581, at the
instigation of a confessor, and became a nun in the Franciscan house
in Burgos, of which she was abbess in 1610, and where she died—
sorry, however, that she had ever left the house of Carmel (Fr. Anton.
de San Joseph, note on Lett. 105, but Lett. 20 vol. ii. ed. Doblado). In
the r-H of the professions sent from Valladolid to the chapter held
in / 'ca'ri, 1581, is the following entry: — "Sister Casilda of the Co*0-
CH. XII.] BEATRIZ ONEZ. 473
CHAPTER XII.
LIFE AND DEATH OF BEATRIZ OF THE INCARNATION.
1. WE had a nun in this- monastery whose name was
Beatriz Onez,1 and who was in some way related to Dona
Casilda. She came some years before her, and her spirit
filled all with amazement, seeing what great things our Lord
was working in her. The nuns and the prioress declare that
they never saw in her, during her whole life here, anything
whatever that might be regarded as an imperfection ; they
never saw her change countenance, but always cheerful and
modest — a certain sign of the inward gladness of her heart.
There was no gloom in her silence, for, though a very great
observer of silence, she was so in such a way that nobody
could call it singular. She was -never heard to utter a word
with which fault could be found,2 nor known to have pre
ferred her own opinion. She never made an excuse for her
self, though the prioress, in order to try her, would find
fault with her for things she had not done, as is the custom in
these houses by way of mortification. She never complained
of anything, never of any of her sisters ; never by word or look
did she hurt the feelings of anybody in all the duties she had
to do, nor did she ever give anybody reason to think that there
was any imperfection in her, nor was it possible to accuse her
in chapter of any shortcomings, notwithstanding the very
trifling nature of the faults which the correctors of faults there
say they have observed. Her outward and inward tranquility
in all circumstances was marvellous : it had its source in her
ever thinking of eternity, and of the end for which God has
made us. The praise of Gcd was ever in her mouth,3 and she
was always making thanksgivings ; in a word, she was always
in prayer.
2. As to obedience she never failed in that, but did what-
ception has been a professed nun these four years in this house; she
was born in Vallado!id. Tier name was Casilda Juliana, and she made
her profession on the feast of the Baptism of Christ, in the year '77"
(Dc la Fncnte, vol. ii. p. 365).
1 Dona Beatriz Onez was a native of Arroyo, near Santa Gadca
(note of Fra Antonio on Lett. 42, but Lett. 59, vol. iii. ed. Dobl.id->.
2 Judith, viii. 28. 3 Ps. xxxiii. 2.
474 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XII.
ever she was commanded to do readily, perfectly, and with
joy. Her love of her neighbour was very great, for she used
to say that she would resign herself to be cut into a thousand
pieces for any one, on the condition that he did not lose his
soul, and came to the fruition of her brother Jesus Christ :
for so she was wont to speak of our Lord. Her sufferings —
they were very grievous — caused by fearful sickness, of which
I shall speak later on, and her most distressing pains, she
bore most willingly and joyously, as if they were great conso
lations and delights. Our Lord must have filled her soul
with joy, for in no other way was it possible, so great was
the joy with which she bore them.
3. It happened that certain persons, for great offences,
were to be burnt in the city of Valladolid. She must have
known that they were about to die not so well prepared as they
should have been, which caused her the most painful distress ;
so she went in great trouble to our Lord, and begged of Him
most earnestly the salvation of those souls, and offered in
return to suffer all her life long every pain and torment she
could bear, either in exchange for that which they had de
served or for the securing their salvation, for I do not remem
ber distinctly the words she used. That very night her first
attack of fever came on, and she wras always afterwards in
pain till she died. The criminals made a good death, which
seems to show that God heard her prayer.
4. Then an abscess formed, which caused the most
frightful suffering, and required for its endurance all the
courage with which our Lord had filled her soul. It was an
inward abscess, and the medicines which they gave her did
her no good, till, in the good pleasure of our Lord, it opened
of itself and discharged the matter gathered within it; this
brought her some relief from pain. In her eagerness to
suffer she was not satisfied with a little, and accordingly, on
the feast of the Holy Cross, while hearing a sermon, this desire
to suffer so grew upon her that, the sermon over, she threw
herself, weeping abundantly, on her bed ; and on being asked
what so distressed her, begged her sisters to pray to God to
send her much suffering, and she would then be happy.
5. To the prioress she spoke of all her interior life, and
that was a consolation to her. Throughout her whole illness
she never gave any one the least trouble in the world, nor
dill .-'he at any time do anything but according to the will of
CH. XII.] BEATRIZ ONEZ. 475
the infirmarian, even to the drinking a drop of water. It is
very common for souls given to prayer to wish for sufferings
when they have none, but it is not common for many, when
they have them, to bear them and be glad. She was so worn
by her illness and by the excessive pain that she did not
last long ; and there was also an abscess in the throat, so that
she could not swallow. Some of the sisters were standing
around her when she said to the prioress, who, as it was her
duty, was comforting her and encouraging her to bear so
much suffering, that she had no pain, and that she would
not change places with any of her sisters who were strongest
in health. She kept her eyes so fixed on our Lord, for whom
she was suffering, that she kept her secret to herself as much
as she could, in order that those who were about her might
not see how much she had to bear; and so, unless when the
pain was sharp, she hardly complained at all. She thought
there was nobody in the world so worthless as herself, and
accordingly, so far as we could see, her humility was great.
6. She had a very great pleasure in speaking of the good
ness of other people ; in mortifying herself she was very
severe ; in withdrawing from everything that could give her
any satisfaction she used so much art that nobody could
have observed it who did not watch her with great attention.
She seemed as if she neither lived with nor conversed with
creatures, so lightly did she regard them ; for, whatever hap
pened, she bore it all with a calmness that nobody ever saw
disturbed. So much so, that one of the sisters told her she
resembled certain persons whom the world thinks honourable,
who, if they were dying of hunger, would rather do so than
that anybody should know it, for the sisters could not believe
that she did not feel certain things, though she never showed
any signs of doing so.
7. Whatever work she had to do or duties to discharge,
all was done for one end, so that she lost the merit of none ;
and so she used to say to the sisters, "The most trifling thing
we do, if we do it for the love of God, is beyond all price ;
we ought not to turn our eyes in any direction but for that,
and to please Him." As she never meddled with anything
that was not part of her work, so she saw nothing amiss in
anybody, but only in herself. It distressed her so much if
anybody spoke well of her that she was careful never to praise
anybody who was present, to avoid giving them pain.
476 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XII.
8. She never sought her own ease, either by going into
the garden or in any created thing, for it would have been
a rudeness, as she used to say, to seek relief from the pains
which our Lord sent her; so she never asked for anything,
but was always satisfied with whatever was given her. She
used to say, also, that it would have been a cross rather to her
to take comfort in anything but God. The fact is, I sought
for information about her from those in the house, and there
was not one who had ever observed anything in her that
did not savour of a soul of high perfection.
9. When the time was come when our Lord was pleased
to take her out of this life her sufferings grew, and she
laboured under so many diseases at once that the mere sight
of her contentment under them drew the nuns often to visit
her, because it made them praise our Lord. In particular
the chaplain, who was the confessor of the monastery and a
very great servant of God, had a great wish to be present at
her death ; he, having been her confessor, looked' upon her as a
saint. God was pleased to grant him -his desire, for, as she
was in the full possession of her understanding, having already
received the last anointing, they sent for him to absolve her
and help her to die, if his services should be needed that
night. A little before nine o'clock, when all the sisters were
with her, and he himself also, all her sufferings ceased, about
a quarter of an hour before she died.
10. She then in great peace lifted up her eyes ; there was
a joyous expression in her face, which seemed to shine, while
she herself was as if gazing at something that filled her with
gladness, for she smiled twice. All the sisters around her and
the priest himself, so great was the spiritual joy and delight
they then felt, could only say that they thought themselves
in heaven. In that joy I am speaking of, with her eyes
directed to heaven, she drew her last breath, looking like an
angel ; for we may believe, because of our faith and her life,
that God took her into His rest in recompense of her earnest
desires to suffer for His sake.1
1 Beatriz of the Incarnation — that was her name in religion — made
her profession in Valladolid September 17, 1570, and in less than three
years finished her course, dying May 5, 1573 (Reforma de los
Descalqos, lib. iii. ch. xix. § 9). But Fra Antonio of S. Joseph, in his
notes on Lett. 42 (but Lett. 59, vol. iii. ed. Doblado), says the chroni
cler is in error, and that she died in 1574.
CH. XIII.] DURUELO. 477
11. The chaplain declares, and he has said so to many,
that at the moment her body was laid in the tomb he per
ceived a most powerful and most sweet smell arising from it.
The sacristan sister also declares that not one of the candles
that were burning during the funeral rites and the burial
suffered the least diminution of the wax. All this we may
believe of the mercy of God. I spoke of it to a confessor of
hers, of the Society of Jesus, to whom she had for many
years gone to confession, and who had the care of her soul,
and he told me that there was nothing singular in it, and
that it did not surprise him, for he knew that our Lord con
versed much with her. May it please His Majesty, my chil
dren, to enable us to learn how to profit by a companionship
good as hers was, and that cf many others whom our Lord
gives us in these houses ! Perhaps I may say something about
them, in order that they who are a little lukewarm may do
violence to themselves and imitate them, and that all of us
may praise cur Lord, who thus makes His greatness shine
forth in a few poor weak women.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE FIRST HOUSE OF THE FRIARS UNDER
THE PRIMITIVE RULE, A. D. 1567.
1. I HAD already, before setting out for this foundation
in Valladolid, arranged with the father Fra Antonio of Jesus,
then prior of S. Anne, in Medina, of the order of Carmel, and
with Fra John of the Cross, as I said before,1 that they were
to be the first to enter, if we could found a monastery for the
observance of the primitive rule of the barefooted friars. But,
as I had not the means of supplying a house for the purpose,
I constantly recommended the matter to our Lord, for, as I
said before, I was satisfied with these fathers. It was now
a year since I had spoken to father Antonio, during which our
Lord had proved him by many trials, which he had under
gone with great perfection. There was no need to try father
John of the Cross, for, though he was living among the fathers
of the mitigated rule, he always led a perfect and religious
life.
1 See ch. iii. §§ 15, 16.
478 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XIII.
2. Our Lord, who had given me that which was essential,
namely, friars to begin the work, was pleased to give every
thing else. A nobleman of Avila, Don Rafael,1 to whom I
had never spoken, found out — I do not remember how — that
I wished to have a monastery of barefooted friars, and came
to me to offer as a gift a house that he had, in a small hamlet
thinly peopled. I think it had twenty inhabitants — I do not
now remember; and the house was kept for the use of his
bailiff, who received his corn-rents there. I knew what sort
of a place it must be, but I gave praise to our Lord, and to
him thanks. He told me it was on the road to Medina del
Campo, whither I was going on my way to the foundation
of Valladolid; it was right on my road, and I might see it.
I told him I should do so, and I did so; for I left Avila in
June, with one of the nuns for my companion,2 and the father
Julian of Avila, chaplain of S. Joseph's, Avila, the priest
whom I have spoken of as the one who helped me in my
travels.3
3. We set out early in the morning, but as we did not
know the road we missed it, and the place being but little
known we could not hear much about it. We spent the
whole day in great toil, for the sun was very strong: when
we thought we were near the place we had to go as far
again. I shall always remember that wearisome and winding-
road. We reached the house a little before nightfall, and the
state it was in when we entered was such that we could not
venture to pass the night there, because of the exceeding-
absence of cleanliness, and of the crowd of harvest men. It
had a fair porch, two rooms, one beyond the other, and a
garret, with a small kitchen. This was all the building that
was to be our monastery. I thought that the porch might
be made into a church, the garret into a choir, which would
do well, and the friars could sleep in the room. The nun who
was with me, though much better than I am and very much
given to penance, could not bear that I should think of having
a monastery there, and said to me, "Certainly, mother, there
1 Don Rafael Megia Velasquez. The offer was made in June,
1568, in Avila, whither the Saint had returned after founding the
monastery of Malagon (Re forma de los Descalgos, lib. ii. ch. xiv. § 2).
2 -Antonio of the Holy Ghost (Reforma de los Descal^os, lib. ii.
ch. xiv. § 3).
3 See ch. iii. § 2.
CH. XIII.] DURUELO. 479
is nobody, however great his spirituality, who can bear this;
do not speak of it."
4. The father who was travelling with me, though of
the same mind with my companion the nun, did not oppose
me when I told him of my purpose. We went and spent the
night in the church, but, on account of the great fatigue we
had undergone, we would not pass it watching. When we
reached Medina I spoke at once to the father Fra Antonio,
and told him what had happened, and that if he had the
courage to remain there for a time he might be certain that
God would soon help him, and that to begin was everything.
I think I saw then what our Lord has done, and as clearly,
so to speak, as I see it now, and even more than I see at
present; for at this moment wrhen I am writing this, by the
goodness of God, ten monasteries of the barefooted friars
have been built. I told him, too, he might depend on it that
neither the late nor the present provincial (for, as I said in
the beginning, their consent must be had1) would ever give
us leave if we were seen living in a large house ; besides, there
was no help for it, and if they were settled in that little
hamlet and house neither the one nor the other would take any
thought about them. God had given him a courage greater
than mine, and so he answered that he. would live not only
there but even in a pigstye.
5. Fra John of the Cross was of the same mind. Now,
it remained for us to obtain the consent of the two fathers
I have just spoken of,2 for it was on that condition our
father-general had given us permission. I trusted in our Lord
we should obtain it, and therefore told the father Fra Antonio
to do everything he could in making some provision for the
house, and set out myself with Fra John of the Cross for
the foundation of Valladolid, already described. And as we
tarried there some days without enclosure, in the midst of
workmen repairing the house, Fra John of the Cross had the
means of learning our way of life, so that he might clearly
understand everything, both the mortifications we practise and
the sisterly affection with which we treat one another, and
how we all come to recreation together, which is so modestly
carried on that it helps us to discover the shortcomings of
the sisters, and is some slight comfort to ourselves, enabling
1 See ch. n. § 5.
2 The two provincials. See below, § 6.
480 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [(II. XIII.
us to endure the severity of the rule. He was so good that I,
at least, might have learned much more from him than he from
me. But I did not do so. I only showed him the way in which
the sisters live.
6. It pleased God that the provincial of our order, Fra
Alonzo Gonzalez,1 whose consent I was obliged to obtain,
should be there at the time. He was an old man, very kind,
and without guile. I said so much to him, and of the account
he would have to give to God if he hindered so good a work,
when I asked him his consent, that he was greatly softened,
His Majesty also disposing him thereto; for He would have
the monastery founded. Doria Maria de Mendoza arrived,
and her brother, the bishop of Avila, who has always helped
and defended us, and they obtained his consent at last, with
that of the late provincial, Fra Angel de Salazar,2 from whom
I feared every difficulty. But some great and pressing matter
occurred at the time, for which the help of that lady, Dona
Maria de Mendoza, was needed, and that I believe helped us
much. But, putting this aside even if that necessity had not
arisen our Lord would have put it into his heart to consent, as
He did into that of the father-general, who was very far
from such a thought.
7. O my God ! w.hat things I have seen in these founda
tions that seemed impossible, and how easily His Majesty
overcame the difficulties ! What confusion of face is mine,
seeing what I have seen, that I am not better than I am ! for
now, when I consider it as I am writing, I find myself wonder
ing, and desiring that our Lord would make all people under
stand that what we creatures did in these foundations is as
nothing. Our Lord directed all from beginnings so mean that
only His Majesty could have raised them to the state they
are in now. May He be blessed for ever.
1 The general, by letters dated Valencia, August 14, 1567, author
ised the provincial and the prior of Avila jointly to accept two houses
of friars, in which the primitive rule was to be observed (Reforma,
lib. ii. ch. iv. § 2).
2 He was at this rime pnor of the Carmelite monastery in Avila.
CH. XIV.] DURUELO. 481
CHAPTER XIV.
FOUNDATION OF THE MONASTERY OF THE BAREFOOTED FRIARS IN
DURUELO THE LABOURS OF THE FRIARS THERE.
1. WHEN I had obtained the consent of the two pro
vincials I thought I wanted nothing more. We arranged that
the father Fra John of the Cross should go to the house and
furnish it, so that somehow or other it might be gone into.
I made all the haste I could to begin, because I was very
much afraid that some hindrance might arise. And so it
was done.1
2. The father Fra Antonio had already provided some
necessary things, we helping him as much as we could, but
it was not much. He came here to Valladolid to speak to
me in great joy, and told me what he had got together. It
was little enough : he had provided only hour-glasses, of
which he had five, and that amused me much. He said he was
not going without provision for keeping regular hours. I
believe he had not even wherewithal to sleep on. There was
a little delay in getting the house into order, because there
was no money, though they had wished to do much. When
all was done, the father Fra Antonio resigned the priorate,2
and promised to observe the primitive rule, for, though I
asked him to try it first, he would not. He went to the little
house with the greatest joy in the world, Fra John being
there already.
3. The father Fra Antonio has told me that when he came
in sight of the little hamlet he felt an exceedingly great
inward joy ; that he thought he had now done for ever with
1 S. John of the Cross left Valladolid, having received the new
habit of the reform from S. Teresa, but which was not to be worn till
he reached Duruelo. His superiors gave him leave to renounce the
mitigated, and to practice the severities of the primitive, rule. He
arrived at the new house in Duruelo at the end of September, 1568,
and, having spent the night in prayer, placed the habit on the altar
and blessed it, and when he had said mass put it on, the first friar
of the reform of S. Teresa (Life of S. John of the Cross, by Jerome
of S. Joseph).
2Fra Antonio was prior of S. Anne, in Medina del Campo, a house
of the mitigated observance. At this time the Carmelite fathers seem
not to have fully understood what the reform of S. Teresa meant.
482 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XIV.
the world, abandoning all things, and throwing himself into
that desert. Neither of them thought the house in any way
bad : so far from it, they looked on themselves as settled in
great comfort. O my God, how little these buildings and
outward satisfactions furnish for the inner man ! I beg of
you, for the love of Him, my sisters and fathers, never to be
otherwise than most moderate in the matter of large and
sumptuous buildings : let us remember our true founders, those
holy fathers from whom we are sprung, for we know it was by
the way of poverty and humility that they attained to the
vision of God.
4. Truly I have seen greater spirituality and also greater
inward joy where bodily conveniences seemed to be wanting
than I have seen later on where the house was large and the
comforts many. If the house be large, what good does that
bring to us?1 We are to live only in one cell, and if that be
very spacious and well made what is it to us? Nothing, for it
is not our business to be looking at the walls. If we consider
this is not the house which is to last for ever, but only for
so short a time as life is, however long that may be, every
thing will be sweet to us when we see that the less we possess
on earth the more we shall have in eternity, where the
dwellings answer to that love wherewith we have imitated
the life of our good Jesus. If we say, as we do, that these are
the beginnings of a restoration of the rule of the Virgin
Mother, our Lady and Protectress, let us not do so much
wrong to her, or to our holy fathers who have gone before
us, as to fail to make our lives consistent with them ; and if
by reason of our weakness, we cannot do so in all things, we
should be very cautious about those things which neither
injure nor sustain life ; for, after all, it is only a little pleasant
labour, as those two fathers found it, and if we make up our
minds to bear it all the difficulty is past, for the whole pain is
but a little in the beginning.
5. On the first or second Sunday in Advent of the year
1568 — I do not remember which of the two Sundays it was2
1 See Way of Perfection, ch. ii. § 8; and Visit, of Nunneries, § xiii.
2 It was Sunday, November 28, 1568, and therefore the first Sunday
in Advent. S. John of the Cross had been saying mass for two months
there, but as he was alone it could not be said of the house that
it was a monastery, and therefore until this time the mass was not
said in it as in a monastery. Fra Antonio had not arrived alone, and
CH. XIV.] DURUELO. 483
—the first mass was said in that little porch of Bethlehem;
I do not think it was any better. In the following Lent I
passed by on my way to Toledo for the foundation there.
I arrived one morning; Fra Antonio of Jesus was sweeping
the door of the church with a joyful countenance, which he
ever preserves.1 I said to him, "What is this, father? — what
has become of your dignity?'' He replied in these words,
showing the great joy he was in: "I execrate the time wherein
I had any." As I went into the church I was amazed to see
the spirit which our Lord had inspired there; and I was not
the only one, for two merchants, friends of mine, who had
come with me from Medina,- did nothing but cry, there were
so many crosses, so many skulls !
6. I can never forget one little cross of wood by the holy
water, to which a picture of Christ on paper was fastened;
it semed to cause more devotion than if it had been made of
some material most admirably fashioned. The choir was the
garret, which was lofty in the centre, so that they could say
the office in it, but they had to stoop very low to enter it and
hear mass. In the two corners of it next the church they
had two little hermitages filled with hay, for the place was
very cold, in which they must either lie down or sit ; the roof
almost touched their heads. There were two little openings
into the church, and two stones for pillows; there were also
crosses and skulls. I understood that when matins were over
they did not go back to their cells till prime, but remained
here in prayer, in which they were so absorbed that they
went and said prime when the time came, having their habits
covered with snow, but they did not know it. They said the
office with another father of the mitigated rule, who came to
stay with them, though he did not change his habit, because
the monastery was thereupon formed. After the mass, in conformity
with the custom of S. Teresa, the fathers changed their names: Fra
Antonio de Heredia became Fra Antonio of Jesus; and Fra John
of S. Mathias, Fra John of the Cross; and Fra Joseph, who arrived
with Fra Antonio, became Fra Joseph of Christ. Soon after the
provincial arrived, made Fra Antonio prior, Fra John of the Cross sub-
prior, and Fra Joseph porter and sacristan (Refornia de las Descal^os.
lib. ii. ch. xx.).
Fra Antonio was upwards of sixty years of age at this time
(Re forma de los Descal^os, lib. ii. ch. xx. § 1).
484 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XIV.
he was very infirm, and with another young friar,1 not in
orders, who also was staying with them.
7. They used to go out to preach in many places around
where the people needed instruction, and that also made me
glad that the house was established there, for I was told that
there was no monastery near, nor the means of supporting
one, which was a great pity. They gained so good a name in
so short a time as to give me the very greatest pleasure when
I heard of it. They went, as I am saying, a league and a half
and two leagues barefooted to preach — for at that time they
wore no sandals, which they were afterwards ordered to wear
— and that in the cold, when the snow was deep, and when
they had preached and heard confessions came home very
late to their meal in the monastery : all this was as; nothing
because cf their jcy. Of food they had enough, for the people
of the neighbourhood around furnished them with more than
they had need of, and some noblemen who lived near came to
confession, and offered them better houses and sites. One
of these was Don Luis, lord of the Five Towns.
8. This nobleman had built a church wherein to put a
picture of our Lady, which was certainly most worthy of
veneration. His father had sent it by a merchant from
Flanders to his grandmother or mother, I forget which. He
was so fond of it that he kept it by him for many years, and
afterwards when he was dying, sent for it. It is a large
picture, and in all my life I have never seen a finer one;
others also have said as much. The father Fra Antonio of
Jesus, having gone to that place at the request of the noble
man2 and seen the picture, was so struck by it, and justly so,
that he consented to remove the monastery thither. The
name of the place was Mancera, Though there was no well
there, nor any means apparently of having one, the nobleman
built them a small monastery in keeping with their pro-
1 This was Fra Joseph of Christ, mentioned in a foregoing note
(Reforma, lib. ii. ch. xxi. § 5).
2 Don Luis of Toledo was a near relative of the dukes of Alva,
and the picture is spoken of by Fra Francis de Santa Maria as being
one he had never seen surpassed in Italy or Spain. It represented
our Lady with our Lord an infant in her arms, attended by two
angels (Reforma de lox Descalqos, lib. ii. ch. xxxix. § 3),
CH. XIV.] DURUELO. 485
fession, and gave them the sacred vestments. He was most
generous to them.1
9. I do not like to leave unsaid how our Lord supplied
them with water; it was considered miraculous. One day
after supper Fra Antonio, the prior, was in the cloisters with
the friars speaking of the distress they were in for water;
the prior rose up and took his stick, which he used to carry
in his hands, and in one part of it made the sign of the cross,
as I think, but 1 do not distinctly remember if he made a
cross; be that as it may, he pointed out with his stick and
said, "Now dig here." They had dug but very little when the
water rushed in such abundance that it is difficult to drain it
off even when the well has to be cleared, and it is very good
for drinking; they have used it for every purpose of the
house, and, as 1 said, it never fails.2 Afterwards they enclosed
a garden, and tried to find water in it, and having made a
machine for drawing it, and that at great cost, even to this
day they have not been able to find any, however scantily.3
1 The translation was made with great solemnity on the feast of S.
Barnabas, June 11, 1570. Fra Antonio, who had been preaching at
Mancera in Lent, had also worked as a labourer in the building of the
monastery, and when it was £nished begged the provincial of the
order to honour the translation with his presence. Fra Alonzo Gonza
lez not only came himself, but took others with him, and brought
the barefooted friars in procession from Duruelo to Mancera, and
then sang the first mass in the new monastery. Don Luis, the bene
factor, had his reward, foi his daughter, Dona Isabel de Leiva, became
a nun, and was professed in the Carmelite house in Salamanca in
1588; and his eldest son, Don Enrique, also received the habit of
Carmel in Salamanca, as Fra Luis of Jesus, and died holily in Segovia
in 1598 (Re forma de los Dcscalqos, lib. ii. ch. xxxix. §§ 4, 5).
* So abundant was the stream of water that it overflowed the
cloisters, and it was feared it might injure the foundations, which
were not strong. Fra Antonio thereupon cried out, We ask for
water, Lord, but not so much. The water ceased to flow and re
mained in the well, but always within reach (Reforma de los Descalqos,
lib. ii. ch xli. § 1).
3 The health of the fathers failed them in Mancera, and the bishop
of Avila, Don Lorenzo de Otayud, who had a great veneration for
the order, begged them to remove to Avila. He supplied all that
was necessary, as the founder of the new house; and thus the first
monasteries of nuns and friars of the Reform of S. Teresa were both
in Avila (Yepez, lib. ii. ch. xx.).
486 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XIV.
10. Then, when I saw the little house,1 which just before
it was not possible to stay in, filled with such a spirit that,
look where I would, I found matter of edification, and when
I heard of their way of life, of their mortification and prayer,
and of the good example they were giving (for I was visited
there by a nobleman and his wife whom I knew, who lived in
the neighbourhood, and who could not speak enough of their
holiness, and of the good they were doing in the villages),
I could not give thanks enough to our Lord in my excessive
joy, for I thought I saw a work begun for the great increase
of the order and the service of our Lord. May it please His
Majesty to carry it on as it is going on now, and then what
I thought will become really true! The merchants who had
come with me said that they would not have missed coming for
the whole world. What a thing goodness is ! These men were
more pleased with the poverty they saw than with all the
wealth they possessed, and their souls were satisfied and
consoled.
11. When the fathers and myself had discussed certain
matters in particular I asked them earnestly, as I am weak
and wicked, not to be so severe with themselves in certain
penances which they carried very far. As it had cost me
many sighs and prayers to obtain from our Lord those who
would make a beginning, and as I saw how good the beginning
was, I feared lest Satan might be seeking how to kill them
before my expectations could be realised. As I am imperfect
and of little faith, I did not consider that this was a work of
1 The "little house" in Duruelo, though thus abandoned, was never
forgotten in the order, and friars went from Mancera from time to
time on a pilgrimage to the place, which they regarded as the cradle of
the Reform. In 1585, Nov. 28, the anniversary of the foundation, the
monastery of Mancera went in procession thither, wearing no sandals,
with bare feet. The prior of Mancera, Fra Nicholas of S. Cyril, sang
the mass, which was the aurora mass of the Nativity, and Fra Vicente
de Christo preached a sermon on Genesis xl. 13: "/ will restore thee to
thy, former place." The friars were intent only on celebrating the restor
ation of the order, but the words were prophetic in another sense, for
there grew up a great desire to establish a community in Duruelo, and
at last the order purchased the place from the heir of the original
donor, to whom it seems to have reverted on its abandonment by the
friars. The purchase was completed September 4, 1612, but it was not
till February, 1640, that the chapter of the order admitted the restored
foundation among the houses of Carmel (Reforma de los Descalgos,
lib. ii. chs. xl., xli.).
CH. XV.] TOLEDO. 487
God, and that His Majesty would have to carry it on. They,
however, having gifts I had not, made light of my advice to
give up their practices; and so I came away in the greatest
consolation, though I did not praise God worthily for so
great a grace. May it please His Majesty of His goodness
that I may become worthy to render Him some service for
the great debt I owe Him ! Amen. For I saw clearly that
this was a much greater grace on His part than was that
which He gave me in founding the houses of nuns.
CHAPTER XV.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE MONASTERY OF S. JOSEPH IN
TOLEDO, 1568.
1. IN the city of Toledo dwelt an honourable man, a
servant of God, who was a merchant, Martin Ramirez by
name. He would never marry, but his life was that of a
very good Catholic, he being a man of great truthfulness
and honesty. He added to his wealth by lawful trade,
intending to do something with it that should be most pleasing
to our Lord. He fell into a sickness which was unto death.
2. A father of the Society of Jesus, Paul Hernandez, to
whom I used to go for confession when I was there making
arrangements for the foundation in Malagon,1 and who was
very desirous to see a monastery of oui order built there,
when he heard of his illness went to speak to him, and showed
him that it would be a very great service rendered to our
Lord if he founded the monastery, that he could establish
in it the chaplains and chapelries, and that the solemnities
and other observances which he was resolved to institute in
one of the parishes of the city could be kept in the monastery.
He was now so ill that he saw he had not time enough to
arrange the matter, so he left it all in the hands of his brother,
Alonzo Alvarez Ramirez ; that done, God took him to Him
self. He did very right, for Alonso Alvarez is a most discreet
man, fearing God, given to almsdeeds, and accessible to
reason ; of him, for I have had much to do with him, I can
say this as an eyewitness in all truth.
1 This was in the year 1568, and the Saint was in Toledo in the
beginning of that year.
488 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XV.
3. When Martin Ramirez died I was occupied in founding
the house in Valladolid, and there received letters from the
father Paul Hernandez and Alonzo Alvarez giving an account
of what had taken place: they said in their letters that if
I accepted the foundation I was to hasten thither; so I set
out shortly after the house was settled.1 Arriving in Toledo
on the eve of our Lady of the Incarnation, I went to the house
of Dona Luisa, the foundress of Malagon, and in which I
had been staying at other times. I was received with great
joy, for she has a great affection for me. I had taken with
me two nuns as my companions from St. Joseph's, Avila, great
servants of God; a room, as usual, was given us at once,
wherein we lived as if we were in a monastery. I began
forthwith to discuss the matter with Alonso Alvarez and
Diego Ortiz, a son-in-law of his, who, though a very good
man and a theologian, was much more wedded to his own
opinion than Alonso Alvarez ; he did not yield so readily
to reason. They began by insisting on many conditions which-
I did not think right to grant.
4. We continued to discuss the arrangements, and were
looking for a house to let in order to take possession ; none
could be found fitted for the purpose, though diligent search
was made, neither could I persuade the governor to give us his
permission, for at that time there was no archbishop,2 though
1 The Saint received the letters probably in the beginning of
December, 1568, for she signed powers of attorney on the 7th in
favour of Father Hernandez and the father rector of the society,
who were to do all things necessary on her behalf. Illness and the
severity of the winter, as well as the necessities of the new foundation,
kept the Saint in Valladolid, but on the 21st of February, 1569, she
set out on the journey, and on her way to Avila made the visit to
Duruelo mentioned in the last chapter. In the middle of March, ac
companied by the two nuns Isabel of S. Dominic and Isabel of S.
Paul, both professed, she departed for Toledo with their chaplain,
Gonzalo de Aranda, the priest whom the Saint spoke of in ch. xxxvi.
§ 18, of her Life (Re forma de los Descalqos, lib. ii. ch. xxiii. § 6).
2 The archbishop of Toledo was the celebrated Dominican Fra
Bartholomew Carranza, who, suspected of heresy, was in the prison
of the Holy Office in Valladolid since the year 1557 (De la Fuente).
Amat, in his Historica Ecclesiastica, vol. x. p. 256, ed. Madrid, 1807,
says that Carranza took possession of his see ten months after the
death of cardinal Don Juan Martinez Siliceo, which took place in
May, 1557. In 1567 he was sent to Rome by orders of S. Pius V., and
was in prison there at the time of which S. Teresa is speaking. In
CH. XV.] TOLEDO.
489
the lady in whose house we were staying laboured much, and
also a nobleman, one of the canons of the church, Don Pedro
Manrique,1 son of the president of Castille, who was and is a
very great servant of God, for he is still living, and, though not
in good health, entered the Society of Jesus a few years after
the foundation of this house. He was held in great respect
in the city, for he was a man of great s*ense and worth.
Nevertheless, I could not get permission, for when the gover
nor was a little softened the members of the council were
not.2 On the other hand, Alonso Alvarez and myself could
not agree, owing to his son-in-law, to whom he gave way
too much ; at last we disagreed altogether.3
5. I did not know what to do, for I had come hither
for no purpose but this, and I saw it would cause much ob
servation if I went away without making a foundation. Never
theless, the refusal of the permission distressed me more
than everything else, for I knew that, once in possession of
a house, our Lord would provide, as He has done in other
places; so I resolved to speak to the governor, and went to a
1576, having renounced all heresy and confessed the Catholic faith,
he was assigned a penance and absolved, and then sent to the Minerva,
where soon after he died in the midst of his brethren. A Commentary
on the Catechism, written by him, is to this day a prohibited book.
He came to England with Philip II., and, became confessor to Queen
Mary, who, without his knowledge and against his will, obtained for
him the archbishopric of Toledo.
1 He was uncle of Don Antonio and Dona Casilda de Padilla, of
whom the Saint speaks in chs. x. and xi. De la Fuente, in his Life of
Baltasar Alvarez, says that he, unwilling to give up his freedom and
the things of this world, had resisted grace for some time, but finally
yielded when he saw his nephew so courageous in his abandonment
of all things.
2 The council was originally a civil court, but as the archbishop
of Toledo was powerful in it, partly because of his dignity and partly
because of his great territorial possessions, in the end the council
became an ecclesiastical tribunal (De la Fuente). The governor at
this time was Den Gomez Tello Giron (Reforma de los Descalqos,
lib. ii. ch. xxiii. § 8). De Yepes calls him "the Licentiate" (lib. ii.
ch. xxii.).
* When the treaty was broken off the Saint declared, now that
this little idol, money, h^s failed us. we shall make a better bargain
(Reforma, ut supra).
490 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XV.
church^near his house, and sent to beg him to have the good
ness to speak to me. It was now more than two months
since we had begun to labour at this, and matters every day
were becoming worse. I told him when I saw him that it
was a hard thing there should be women desirous of living
in great austerity, perfection, and retirement, while persons
who did nothing of the kind, but lived at their ease, wished
to hinder the doing of those things which are for the service of
our Lord.
6. I said this to him, and much also besides, with a
certain firmness of purpose with which our Lord inspired
me His heart was so touched that he gave me permission
before I left him. I came away very happy ; I thought I had
everything while I had nothing, for all the money I had may
have been three or four ducats ; with these I bought two
pictures on canvass, because I had no picture whatever to
set on the altar, two straw mattresses, and a blanket. There
was no way of getting a house; with Alonso Alvarez I had
broken. A friend of mine, a merchant in the city, Aloriso
de Avila, who never would marry, occupied only in good
works, visiting the prisoners and doing other good deeds, and
who had told me not to distress myself — he would find me
a house, fell ill. A Franciscan friar, Martin of the Cross, a
most holy man, had arrived some days before this ; he re
mained some time, and when he went away sent me a young
man, by name Andrada, whose confessions he heard ; he was
not at all rich, but very poor, and him the friar had requested
to do whatever I told him. One day, when I was in church
hearing mass, the young man came to speak to me and to
tell me what the holy man had said to him : I was to rely
on his doing for me everything that was in his power, though
he could help us only in his own person. I thanked him, and
it amused me and my companions to look at the help the
holy man had sent us, for the young man's appearance was
not that of a person with whom the Carmelite nuns could
converse.
1 The Saint took with her the sister Isabel of S. Dominic
(Reforma, lib. ii. ch. xxiii. § 8). The governor gained by his opposi
tion, for the Saint, according to the depositions of Sister Mary of S.
Francis, in the information taken at Alba for the beatification, in
variably spoke well of him, and desired the nuns to make special
intercession for him (De la Fuente, vol. ii. p. 418).
CH. XV.] TOLEDO. 491
7. When I saw myself at last in possession of the licence,
and without anybody to help me, I knew not what to do, nor
to whom I should apply to find me a house. I recollected
the youth whom Fra Martin of the Cross had sent me, and
spoke of him to my companions. They laughed at me, and
told me to do nothing of the sort, for it would end in nothing
but in making our affair public. I would not listen to them,
because I was confident that, as he had been sent by the
servant of God, there was some mystery in it, and that he
would do something. So I sent for him, told him what was
going on as a great secret, and, charging him to keep it as
earnestly as I could, asked him to find a house for our purpose :
I would give security for the rent. The good Alonso de
Avila was to be my surety, who, as I said just now, had
fallen ill The young man thought it an easy thing to do,
and told me he would find me a house.
8. Early the next morning, when I was hearing mass
in the church of the Society of Jesus, he came and spoke to
me. He told me he had found a house, and that he had the
keys of it with him — that we might go and see it ; and so we
did. It was so good that we remained in it nearly a year. Often
times when I think of this foundation the ways of God amaze
me : for nearly three months — at least, it was more than two,
I do not clearly remember — such wealthy persons had been
going up and down Toledo in search of a house, and, as if
there were no houses in the city, had been able to find none ;
but this young man came, who was very poor, and our Lord
was pleased he should find one forthwith;1 then, when the
monastery might have been founded without trouble, upon
our agreeing with Alonso Alvarez, He would not have it so,
but quite otherwise, in order that the foundation might be
laid in poverty and trouble.
9. Then, as we were satisfied with the house, I ordered
possession to be taken at once before anything could be done
to it, in order that there might be no hindrance. Soon after
Andrada came to tell me that the house would be left empty
that very day, and that we might send in our furniture.
1 Andrada is described as a pobre estudiante. After this his
worldly estate changed: he became wealthy, married well and honour
ably, and his descendants attribute their prosperity to the service
which he was able to render the Saint (Reforma de los Descalqos, lib.
ii. ch. xxiii. § 11).
492 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XV.
I told him there was little to send, for we had nothing but
two straw mattresses and a blanket. He must have been
surprised. My companions were vexed at my saying it,
and asked me how I could do it, for if he saw we were so poor
he would not help us. I did not think of that, and he did
not think of it either, for He who had given him that good
will would continue it to him till he finished His work; and
so it was, for he set about arranging the house and bringing
in workmen so earnestly that I do not think we were more
in earnest than he. We borrowed what is necessary for
saying mass, and at nightfall, with a workman, went to take
possession, having with us a little bell, one of those rung
at the elevation, for we had no other, and. spent the whole
of that night in great fear, cleaning the house. The only
room for a church was one the entrance into which was from
another house adjoining, inhabited by some women, and which
also the mistress thereof had let to us.
10. And now, when we had everything ready and the
dawn at hand — we had not ventured to say anything to the
women, lest they should make our coming known — we began
to open the door, which was to be in the wall that divided the
two houses, and which opened into a very small courtyard.
The women heard the noise, and rose in terror from their
beds ; we had a great deal of trouble in soothing them, and the
time was come for saying mass.1 Though they were violent
they did us no harm, and when they saw that it was for our
Lord it made them quiet.2
11. I saw afterwards how hastily we had acted, for then,
in the exaltation which comes from God, we saw no diffi
culties. When the owner of the house heard that it had been
made into a church there was trouble, for she was the wife
of one whose estate was entailed, and great was the noise
she made. When she saw that we would give a good price
for it if it suited us, our Lord was pleased she should be quiet.
Again, when the members of the council heard that the
*Fra Juan de la Madalena, prior of the Carmelites, said the mass.
Dona Luisa de la Cerda and her household were present, with others
drawn thither by the unwonted ringing of a bell. The Most Holy
was reserved, and formal possession was taken, it being the feast of
S. Boniface, May 14, 1569 (Reforma de los Descal^os, lib. ii. ch. xxiv.
§ 1).
2 The Saint gave them a little money, and promised to find them
another house (Ribera, ii. 14).
CH. XV.] TOLEDO. 493
monastery was founded — they never would have given their
consent — they were very angry, and went to the house of
a dignitary of the Church, to whom I had made known our
plans as a secret, and told him what they were threatening
to do. As for the governor, he had occasion to take a journey
after he had granted the permission, and was not in the city;
so they went with their story to the dignitary I am speaking
of, astonished at such audacity that a poor woman should
found a monastery against their will. He made answer that
he knew nothing about it, and pacified them as well as he
could, telling them that the thing had been done in other
places, and that it could not have happened without sufficient
reasons.
12. Some days later — I do not know how many — they
sent us an order forbidding the celebration of mass till we
produced the licence under which we were acting. I answered
most gently, and said I should do as they commanded me,
though I was not bound to obey them in the matter; and
begged Don Pedro Manrique, the nobleman I spoke of before,1
to go and talk to them, and show them our faculties. He
brought them over, especially as the thing was done; for if
it had not been so we should have had troubles.2
13. We were for some days with no other furniture
but the two straw mattresses and the blanket, and on that
first day we had not even a withered leaf to dress a pilchard
with, when somebody, I know not who he was, moved by
our Lord, laid a faggot in the church wherewith we helped
ourselves. At night it was cold, and we felt it, though we
covered ourselves with the blankets and our cloaks of serge
which we wear over all ; these were serviceable to us. It will
be thought impossible that we, who were staying in the house
of a lady3 whose affection for me was so great, should have
come in here in such great poverty. I do not know how
it was, except that it was the will of God we should learn
by experience the blessing of this virtue. I did not ask her
for anything, for I hate to give trouble, and she perhaps never
thought of it, for I owe her more than she could give us.
1 § 4, above.
2 Her old friend the Dominican, Fra Vicente Barren, took up her
cause at the same time (Ribera, ii. ch. xiv.).
" Dona Luisa de la Cerda.
494 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. | CH. XV.
14. To us1 it was a great blessing, for the inward comfort
and joy we then felt was such as to make me often ponder
on the treasures which our Lord has laid up in virtues. The
poverty we were in seemed to me as the source of a sweet
contemplation, but it did not last long, for Alonso Alvarez
himself and others provided for us soon, and that in greater
abundance than we desired. Certain it is that my sadness
thereupon became so great that I could not but regard myself
as one once possessed of many gold trinkets of which I was
robbed and left in poverty; I was in pain when my poverty
was ended, and so were my sisters, and when I saw them
sorrowing I asked them what the matter was, and they
answered, ''What is the matter, mother? We do not seem
to be poor any longer."
15. From that time forth the desire of being very poor
grew within me, and I felt a strength to enable me to hold
in contempt the goods of this world, seeing that in the absence
of them grows interior good, which, of a truth, brings with
it fulness and rest. During those days in which I had to
treat of the foundation with Alonso Alvarez, many were the
people who thought I was doing wrong, and told me so, for
they looked on his family as neither great nor noble, though
very good in its own place, as I said before, saying that I
should not want help in so important a city as Toledo. I
did not pay much attention to this, for, thanks be to God,
I have always prized goodness more than descent; but so
much was said to the governor on the subject that he gave
his licence on condition that I made the foundation as in
other places.
16. I knew not what to do, for the monastery was
founded, and they2 came again to treat about it. However,
as the foundation was now made I compromised the matter
by giving them the chancel, but in the monastery itself they
were to have no rights, as it is at present. A great personage
1 The Saint sent for more nuns from Avila, and there came from
her old monastery of the Incarnation Dona Catalina Hiera, Dona
Juana Hiera, two sisters, Dona Antoma del Aguila, and Isabel Suarez;
of these, on account of the severity of the rule, or the great poverty
of the house, Dona Juana Hiera alone remained, who took the name
of Juana of the Holy Ghost. From Malagon came Anne of Jesus
and Isabel of S. Joseph (Re forma de los Descalqos, lib. ii. ch. xxiv. § 3).
* The family of Martin Ramirez, mentioned in § 1.
CH. XVI.] TOLEDO. 495
wished to have the chancel, and many were the opinions,
I not knowing what to do. It pleased our Lord to give me
light in the matter, and so He said to me once, "How useless
will birth and dignities be before the judgment seat of God!"
And He gave me a severe rebuke because I had listened to
those who spoke in this way, for these were not matters which
those who despised the world should think of.1
17. These and many other considerations made me
ashamed of myself; I resolved to conclude the arrangements
proposed by giving them the chancel, and I have never
repented of it, for we saw clearly how scant were our means
for buying a house, and by their help we bought that in
which we are now living, and which is one of the good houses
of Toledo, and cost 12,000 ducats ; and, as so many masses
are said in it and festivals kept, it is a very great joy to the
nuns, and brings much joy to the people. If I had respected
the vain opinions of the world, it would have been impossible,
so far as I can see, to find so many advantages, and it would
have been a wrong done to him who did us the charity with
so much good will.2
CHAPTER XVI.
OF CERTAIN THINGS THAT TO'JK PLACE IN THE MONASTERY OF
TOLEDO, TO THE HONOUR AND GLORY OF GOD.
1. I HAVE thought it well to say something of the way in
which certain nuns laboured in the service of our Lord, in
order that they who shall come after them may endeavour
to imitate these good beginnings. Before the house was
1 See Relation, iii. § 1.
2 The house bought with the money of Alonso Ramirez was in the
ward of S. Nicholas, opposite the Mint, and was taken possession
of in 1570: but, as the charities founded by the family proved a trouble
and annoyance to the nuns, the monastery was removed to the house
of Alonso Franco, near the Misericordia, in 1594: that proved too
small for the nuns, and the prioress Beatriz of Jesus, niece of S.
Teresa, bought a house in the parish of S. Leocadia, near the Cambron
trate, and transferred thither the community in 1607, where it ever
•ifterwards remained. The foundations of the Ramirez family con
tinued in their original site, and were known as the Oratory of S.
Joseph (De la Fuente).
496 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XVI.
bought there came in a nun, Anne of the Mother of God,1
forty years of age, who had spent her whole life in the
service of God ; and, though in her state and household there
was no want of comfort, for she lived alone and had property,
she chose rather the poverty and obedience which the order
requires, and accordingly came to speak to me. Her health
was not strong, but when 1 saw a soul so good and so deter
mined 1 looked on it as a good beginning for the foundation,
and so I admitted her. It pleased God to give her much
better health in her life of austerity and obedience than she
had in the midst of her comforts, and while she had her
liberty.
2. What excited my devotion, and why I speak of her
here is this : before she made her profession she resigned
all her possessions — she was very rich — and gave them as an
alms to this house. I was distressed about this, and refused
my consent, telling her that perhaps she might repent of it
herself, or we might not admit her to her profession, and that
it was a dangerous thing to do, though, if it should so happen,
we should not send her away without giving back what she
had given to us ; but 1 wished to show her the worst side of
the case for" two reasons ; firstly, that there might be no
occasion for temptation ; and secondly, to try her spirit the
more. Her answer was, that if it should so happen she would
beg her bread for the love of God, and 1 could get no other
answer from her. She lived in the greatest happiness, and
her health was much better.
3. So mortified and obedient were the nuns that while I
was there the prioress had to consider continually what she
was saying, for the sisters did what she told them, though
she might be speaking without reflection. One day, when
looking at a pond in the garden, the prioress said to them,
"What will happen if I tell her" — meaning a sister who was
standing close by — "to throw herself in?" She had no sooner
spoken thus than the sister was in the water, and so much
wetted that it was necessary to change her habit. On another
1 Ana de la Palma was a wealthy widow, and had been so for
twenty years, living a most holy life in her own house. She was
forty years old when she entered the order, and made her profession
in Toledo, November 15, 1570, and died the death of the just in
Cuerva, November 2, 1610 (note of Fr. Antonio Lett. 193, but Lett.
25, vol. ii., ed. Doblado).
CH. XVI.] TOLEDO. 497
occasion — I was present myself — the nuns were going to
confession, and the one who was waiting for the other to
come out of the confessional went up to the prioress and
spoke to her ; the prioress said, "Why, what is this ? Was that
a good way to recollect herself? Let her put her head in
the well, and there think of her sins." The sister understood
that she was to throw herself into the well, and made such
haste to do so that, if they had not quickly gone after her, she
would have thrown herself in, thinking she was doing the
greatest service in the world to God.
4. I could tell other things of the same kind, showing
their great mortification, so much so that it became neces
sary for learned men to explain to them wherein obedience
consisted, and to lay some restraints upon them, for they
were doing strange things, and if it had not been for their good
intentions their demerits would have outweighed their merits.
And it was thus not only in this monastery — I happen to be
speaking of this alone now — but in all ; so much is done that
I could wish I were not concerned in them,1 that I might
speak thereof to the honour of our Lord in His servants.
5. When I was there one of the sisters2 became sick
unto death. When she had received the Sacraments, and the
last anointing had been administered, her peace and joy were
so great that we felt we could ask her to recommend us to
God in heaven, and to the saints to whom we had a devotion,
as if she were in the other world. Shortly before she died
I went in to remain with her, having been before the Most
Holy Sacrament to beg for her a good death from our Lord.
And so, when I went in, I saw our Lord standing in the middle
1 A very devout young lady, whom Yepes knew, wished to become
a nun, and, with the approbation of the Saint, was on a given day to
enter the monastery. But the evening before she had something to
say to S. Teresa, and went to the monastery to see her. When she
had finished she said to the Saint while taking leave, "Mother, I will
also bring my Bible." "Bible, child?" said the Saint with great earn
estness. "No, you shall not come here; we do not want you or your
Bible, for we are ignorant women, and do nothing but spin and obey."
She was not received, and by degrees, giving way to her curiosity,
fell into the hands of the Inquisitors, and had to make a public con
fession of her faults (Yepes, lib. ii. ch. 21).
2 Sister Petronila of S. Andrew (Reforma de los Descalqos, lib. ii.
ch. xxvi. § 5). She was a native of Toledo, and made her profession
March 23, 1571 (De la Fuente, vol. ii., p. 364).
498 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XVI.
of the bed's head with his arms a little extended, as if pro
tecting her. He said to me that I might be certain He would
in the same way protect all the nuns who should die in these
monasteries, and that they ought not to fear temptations in
the hour of death. I was greatly comforted and recollected,
and after a little while I spoke to her, when she said to me,
"Oh, mother, what great things I have to see!" and thus she
died as an angel.
6. I observed in some nuns who died afterwards a
certain peace and quiet which was like a trance or the tran
quillity of prayer, with no signs of any temptation whatever.
I trust, therefore, in the goodness of God, that Pie will have
compassion on us in the hour of death, through the merits
of His Son, and of His glorious Mother, whose habit we wear.
Let us then, my daughters, strive to become true Carmelites,
for the day will soon be over ; and if we knew the distress that
comes upon men at this time, and the cunning and deceit
with which Satan tempts them, we should make much of this
grace.
7. I am now reminded of one thing I should like to tell
you, for I knew the person, and indeed he was somewhat of
kin to some of my kindred. He was a great gambler, and was
not without some learning, by means of which the devil began
to deceive him, making him believe that it was of no use what
ever to repent in the hour of death. He maintained this so
resolutely that they could not persuade him to make his con
fession ; all reasoning with him was to no purpose, and all
the while he was extremely sorry and penitent for his wicked
life. But he would say, why should he confess, for he saw
that he was already damned? A Domincan friar, a learned
man and his confessor, did nothing but reason with him,
but Satan suggested answers so subtle that all was in vain.
8. He remained in this state for some days. His con
fessor did not know what to do, but he and others must have
prayed very earnestly to our Lord, for the sick man found
mercy. The disease being now very serious — a pain in the side
— the confessor came again, and he may have brought with him
more arguments carefully considered wherewith to answer
him, but he would not have gained his cause if our Lord had
not had compassion upon him by softening his heart. He
sat up in his bed as if he had not been ill, and said, "As you
tell me that my confession may do me good, well, then, 1
CH. XVII.] PASTRANA. 499
will make it," and sent for a clerk or notary, I do not remember
which, and made a solemn oath to abstain from play hereafter
and to amend his life, of which they were to be witnesses.
He made his. confession most humbly, and received the sacra
ments with such devotion that, as far as we can judge accord
ing to our faith, he was saved. May it be the good pleasure
of our Lord, my sisters, that we may live as true daughters
of the Virgin, and keep our rule, that our Lord may show
us the mercy which He has promised us !
CHAPTER XVII.
THE TWO MONASTERIES OF PASTRANA, 1569.
1. IN about a fortnight after the foundation of the house
in Toledo, when I had arranged the church, put up the grat
ings, and done what was very troublesome to do — for, as I
said, we remained about a year in that house — and when I
was worn out looking after the workmen, and all was at last
finished, it was the eve of Pentecost.1 That very morning,
as we were at meals in the refectory, I felt a great joy in seeing
there was nothing more to do, and that on this feast I could
for some time taste of the sweetness of our Lord ; I could
scarcely eat, so great was the joy of my soul. I did not much
deserve this consolation, for they came to tell me while I was
thus employed that a servant of the princess of Eboli, wife
of Ruy Gomez de Silva,2 was waiting. I went out, and learnt
1 Whitsunday in 1569 fell on May 29th.
'2 Ruy Gomez de Silva, prince of Eboli, first duke of Pastrana,
treasurer of Spain and the Indies. His wife was Ana de Mendoza y
la Cerda, daughter of Diego Hurtado de Mendoza. He died in Madrid
July 29, 1573. Dona Catalina de Cardona in her desert saw him in a
vision at the moment, when he told her that for the great alms he
had given through her he was saved and in purgatory, but in torments
that none would believe. She was to get the prayers of the Carmelite
friars of our Lady of Succour, and have the masses said at once which
his wife, the princess, was to ask. Dona Catalina, pitying her friend,
disciplined herself at once to blood, and the next day the vicar of
the monastery entering her cell saw the state it was in, and rebuked
her for her excessive penance. She told him the truth, and the vicar
marked the day and the hour to test it. On the third day came a mes-
500 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XVII.
that she had sent for me; it had been arranged between us
some time before that I was to found a monastery in Pastrana.
I did not think it was to be so soon.
2. It gave me some pain, because there was great danger
in leaving a monastery so newly founded, and to which
opposition had been made. I therefore determined at once
that I would not go, and said so. He replied that this was
inconvenient, for the princess was there already, having gone
thither for no other purpose; that it would be an affront to
her. Nevertheless, I wras not minded to go, and told him so;
he might go and take some food ; I wrould write to the princess,
and he might depart. He was a very honourable man, and,
though not at all pleased, yet when I told him my reason
he was satisfied.
3. The nuns who had just arrived, and who were to
live in the monastery, did not see how it was possible for
me to quit the house so soon. I went before the Most Holy
Sacrament to beg of our Lord that I might write in such a
way as to give no offence, for we were in a very difficult
position, because of the friars who had then begun the reform,
and in every way it would be well for us to have the good
graces of Ruy Gomez, whose influence over the king and all
people wras so great. However, I do not remember whether
I thought of this, but I know wrell that I wished not to offend
the princess. While I was in this perplexity our Lord said
to me that I was to go without fail, that I was going for
something more than for that foundation, and that I was to
take with me the rule and constitutions.1 When I heard
this, though I had great reasons for not going, I durst not act
but according to my custom in like circumstances, which is to
be guided by the advice of my confessor. I then sent for him ;
I did not tell him what I had heard in prayer, for I am
always better satisfied so, but I implored our Lord to give my
confessors light according to the measure of that which they
naturally understand, and His Majesty puts it into their hearts
whenever He will have anything done.
senger from the princess announcing the death, and bringing alms to
the monastery of seventy ducats, beside the retribution for two hundred
masses. Within a few days Dona Catalina had another vision of the
prince, who thanked her for her service, and told her of the incredible
relief it had brought to him (Reforma de los Dcscal^os, lib. iv. ch. xviii.
§5).
1 See below, § 8.
CH. XVII.] PASTRANA. 501
4. This has often happened to me — so did it now, for my
confessor, having considered the whole matter, was of opinion
I ought to go, and thereupon I determined to go. I left
Toledo on the morrow afier Pentecost.1 Our road lay through
Madrid, and we went to lodge, my companions and I, in the
monastery of the Franciscans, with a lady who had founded
it, and who was living in it, Dona Leonor de Mascarenas,
formerly governess of the king, and a very great servant of
our Lord. I had been lodged there on other occasions when
I had to travel that way, and that lady ever showed me much
kindness.2
5. The lady told me she was glad I had come at that
time, for there was a hermit there who greatly desired to see
me, and that he and his companions, she thought, were living
in a way very like that prescribed by our rule. To me,
who had but two friars, came the thought that it would be
a great thing if by any means it were so, and so I asked her
to find an opportunity for us to speak together. He lodged
in a room which the lady had given him, with another brother,
a young man by name Fra Juan de la Miseria,3 a great servant
1 On Monday, May 30th, in a carriage which the princess of Eboli
had sent for her. Isabel of S. Dominic was left prioress of S. Joseph's
in Toledo, and the Saint took with her Isabel of S. Paul, and Dona
Antonio del Aguila, who had come from her old monastery of the
Incarnation, Avila (Refonna de los Dcscalqos, lib. ii. ch. xxvii. § 2).
2 See note (4) ch. iii. § 17.
8 Juan de la Misera, in the world Giovanni de Narduch, was born
in the kingdom of Naples: in Lis youth he had been with Ambrogio
Mariano; after some years of separation they met again in the desert
of Tardon, near Seville, where they renewed their friendship. They
entered the order of Mount Carmel together, Juan de la Miseria as
a lay brother (Re forma, lib. ii. ch. xxvii. § 8). Fra Jerome Gratian
of the Mother of God, in the third part of his Declamacion, says that
he ordered Fra Juan, when painting the cloisters of the monastery
of the nuns in Seville, to paint a likeness of S. Teresa. Being then
the Superior of the Saint, he made her, for her greater mortification,
sit for her portrait. Juan was a poor painter, but in no other way
could a portrait of the Saint be had, for neither she nor I, says Fra
Jerome, would have allowed any other to make a likeness. De La
Fuente quotes this passage, and adds a note to the effect that the
portrait was ill done; and that the Saint, looking at it when finished,
said mirthfully, "Fra Juan, God forgive thee! what I have had to
suffer at thy hands and after all to paint me blear-eyed and ugly"
(vol. i. p. 574). In the troubles of the order, when the Fathers of
502 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XVII.
of God, and most simple in the ways of the world. Then,
when we were talking together, he told me that he wished to
go to Rome. Before I go on further I should like to say what
I know of this father, by name Mariano of S. Benedict.1
6. He was an Italian by birth, a man of very great
abilities and skill, and a doctor. When, in the service of
the queen of Poland, entrusted with the ministry of her
household, having never any inclination to marry, but holding
a commandery in the order of S. John, he was called by
our Lord to give up all he possessed, that he might the better
labour for his own salvation. He had afterwards to undergo
some trouble, for the death of a certain person was laid to
his charge. Kept in prison for two years, he would not allow
a lawyer or any other to defend him, but only God and His
the Mitigated Observance for a time brought the reform within their
jurisdiction, Juan had to suffer, and in Rome consulted S. Philip,
who advised him to suffer and obey. (Note of Fra Antonio de San
Joseph, on Lett. 27, vol. 4, ed. Doblado, but Lett. 209 in the ed. of
De la Fuente.~) Juan de la Miseria died in Madrid in the year 1616,
in great reputation for sanctity, being more than a hundred years
old (Re forma, lib. ii. ch. xxxvii. § 16).
1 On the margin of the MS. is written Mariano de Ac.aro (De la
Fuente). Ambrogio Mariano Ac.aro was born in Bitonto, in the king
dom of Naples, of noble parents. One of his companions at school,
where he was greatly distinguished, was Hugo Buoncompagno, Pope
in 1572, who always retained his affection for him. Mariano became
a doctor in canon and civil law, was sent to the council of Trent,
where his ability and wisdom led to his employment in many difficult
affairs both in Germany and the Low Countries. Later on he entered
the order of S. John of Jerusalem. He came to Madrid, having under
his care the prince of Salmona, a boy of nine, and there his eyes were
opened to see the vanities of the world. In Cordova, where he was
on business of state, he made the spiritual exercises under the direc
tion of the Jesuits, and was inclined to join the society, but could not
make up his mind to do so, because the fathers never met in choir,
and mixed much in the world. One day, from the window of his cell,
which opened into the church — it was during his retreat — he saw
the hermit Matthew enter, by whose venerable aspect he was attracted
and finally led into the desert of Tardon, in the year 1562, where he
lived under obedience to that simple man, being himself not only
a brave soldier, but a learned doctor, and, the more to humble himself,
gained his bread by spinning. He was professed in Pastrana in 1570,
and died in Madrid in 1594, helped in his last hour by the presence
of the martyrs SS. Cosmas and Damian, to whom he had been very
devout during his life (Reforma de los Descal$os, lib. ii, ch. xxvii. and
xxviii. § 5).
Lli. XVII. ] PASTPANA. 503
justice. There were witnesses who said that he had asked
them to commit the murder. As it happened to the old
men who accused S. Susanna,1 so it did to these, for, each of
them being severally questioned where he was at the time,
one said he was sitting on his bed, another that he was at the
window ; at last they confessed that the accusation was a false
hood. He told me that it cost him a great sum to set those
witnesses at liberty without being punished, and that the very
man who had caused him all that trouble fell into his hands,
that he had to proceed judicially against him, but that he had
stretched his power to the utmost not to do him any harm.
7. It must be for these and his other virtues — he was
a pure and chaste man, hating the conversation of women —
that he merited light from our Lord to see what the world is,
that he might withdraw from it. Accordingly he began to
consider which order he should enter, and, testing now one,
now another, he must have found something in all, as he
told me, unsuited for himself. He heard that some hermits
were dwelling together near Seville, in a desert called Tardon,
having for their superior a most holy man, whom they called
Father Matthew.2 Each hermit had his own cell; the divine
office was not said, but they had an oratory where they met
together to hear mass. They had no revenues, and neither
would nor did receive alms, but maintained themselves by
the labour of their hands, and every one took his meals by
himself poorly enough. When I heard of it I thought it was
a picture of the holy fathers of our order. We had been living
in this fashion for eight years.
8. When the holy Council of Trent had been held, and
when the decree came forth by which all hermits were to be
1 Daniel, ch. xiii.
a The venerable father Mateo cle la Fuente, restorer of the order of
S. Basil in Spain, born about the year 1524, in Almanuete, near Toledo.
He studied in Salamanca, began his heremitical life in the neighbour
hood of Cordova, and withdrew into the recesses of the Sierra Morena
because of the concourse of the people. Juan of Avila, his director,
commanded him to take some to live with him, and thus he peopled
a desert where wild artichokes grew (Cardos syh'estris\ and gave it
the name of the Cardon, which was afterwards changed into the
Tardon. These hermits tilled the ground, for their maxim was that
he who does not work shall not eat. They adopted the rule of S.
Basil when S. Pius V. ordered the hermits to observe a rule already
approved (De la Fnente} See the Bull, Lubricum vita, Nov. 17, 156S.
f,04 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XVII.
brought under the discipline of the regular orders, Mariano
wished to go to Rome, to beg that they might be left as they
were; and this was his object when I spoke to him. When he
had recounted to me his way of life I showed him the primitive
rule of the order, and told him he might without all that
trouble keep his observances, for they were the same as ours
especially that of living by the work of his own hands, which
was that which had the greatest attraction for him. He had
said to me that the world was ruined by greed, and that this
it was that brought religion into contempt. As I was of the
same opinion myself, we agreed at once on this, and also upon
everything else ; so that when I showed him how much he
might serve God in this our habit he told me he would think of
it that very night.1 I saw that his mind was nearly made up,
and understood the meaning of what I had heard in prayer,
that I was going for something more than for a monastery
of nuns.2 It gave me the very greatest pleasure, for I saw that
our Lord would be greatly served by his entering the order.
9. His Majesty, who willed it, so moved his heart during
the night that he called upon me the next day, having then
fully made up his mind, and being also amazed at the change
so suddenly wrought in himself, especially by a woman ; for
even to this day he sometimes tells me so, as if she had been
the cause of it, and not our Lord, who is able to change the
hearts of men. His judgments are deep! for this man, having
lived so many years without knowing what resolution to
take concerning his state — he was then in no state at all, being
under no vows or obligation beyond that of a solitary life —
was now so quickly led of God, who showed him how great
a service he might render Him in this state, and that He
wanted him for the purpose of carrying on what had been
begun. He has been a great help, and it has cost him much
trouble, and will cost him more before everything is settled,3
1 S. Teresa gave a copy of the rule to Mariano, who took it with
him to his lodging, where he read it aloud, and explained it to Juan
de la Miseria, his companion. Before he had gone through it he cried
out, "Brother John, we have found what we are seeking for; that is
the rule we should keep." The next morning he told Dona Leonor
what had been the fruit of the night's meditation, and she carried
the good news at once to the Saint (Reforma, lib. ii. ch. xxvii. §§ 3, 4).
2 See § 3, above.
3 The Saint wrote this in 1573 or 1574, and before the persecution
began.
CH. XVII.] PASTRANA. 505
if we may judge by the opposition made to the primitive rule ;
for he is a man who, because of his abilities, temper, and
excellent life, has influence with many persons who help and
protect us.
10. He then told me that in Pastrana — the very place I
was going to — Ruy Gomez had given him a good hermitage,
and a place for making there a settlement for hermits, and that
he would give it to the order and take the habit himself.
I thanked him, and praised our Lord greatly; for as yet, of
the two monasteries for the founding of which two licences
had been given me by the most reverend our father-general
only one had been established. Thereupon I sent a messenger
to the two fathers already mentioned, the present and the last
provincial, earnestly begging them to give me leave, for the
foundation could not be made without their consent. 1 wrote
also to the bishop of Avila, Don Alvaro de Mendoza, who was
our great friend, asking him to obtain the licence from them.
11. It pleased God that they should give their consent.
They must have thought that the monastery would do them
no harm in a place so far out of the way. Mariano promised
to go thither when the permission should come ; so I went
away extremely glad.1 I found the princess and the prince
Ruy Gomez in Pastrana, by whom I was most kindly received.
They gave us a lodging for ourselves alone, wherein we
remained longer than I expected. As the house was so small,
the princess had ordered a great part of it to be pulled down
and then to be rebuilt ; not the outer walls, however, but a
very large part of it.
12. I was there three months, during which I had much
to endure, because the princess insisted on certain things
unbecoming our order;2 and so, rather than consent to them,
1 The Saint, having asked Mariano to remain in Madrid till he
received the expected permission from the provincial, set out for
Pastrana with the two nuns who had come with her from Toledo
(see note, § 4), and a postulant recommended to her by her great
friend Dona Antonio de Brances, who received in religion the name
of Beatriz of the Most Holy Sacrament (Reforma de los Descalqos,
lib. ii. ch. xxvii. § 5).
* The princess had brought with her from Madrid an Augustinian
nun belonging to a house of her order in Segovia, Dona Catalina
Machuca, who was to lay aside her own habit, and enter the new
foundation as a Carmelite in Pastrana. The impetuous princess in-
506 BOOK OF THE. FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XVII.
I made up my mind to go away without making the founda
tion ; but the prince Ruy Gomez, in his good-nature, which
is very great, listened to reason, and pacified his wife, and 1
accepted some of her conditions ; for I was more anxious for
the foundation of the monastery of the friars than for that of
the nuns, seeing how important that was, as I saw afterwards.
13. At this time Mariano and his companion arrived —
the hermits spoken of before — with the licence of the provin
cial. The prince and princess consented to grant the hermit
age they had given him to the barefooted friars, while I sent
for the father Fra Antonio of Jesus, who was the first, from
Mancera, where he was at that time, that he might begin the
foundation of the monastery. I prepared their habits and
mantles for them, and did all I could to enable them to take
the habit at once. I had sent at this time for more nuns —
for I had brought but two with me1 — to the monastery in
Medina del Campo. There was a father living there, then in
years — not very old, however, still not young — but he was a
sisted on its being done at once, and would not listen to the objections
of the Saint. To soothe the irritation caused by the refusal, the
Saint laid the matter before Fra Dominic Banes, who approved the
act of S. Teresa. The princess at last gave way, and the new house
was spared the difficulty of training a nun who had either learned
the spirit of another order or was incapable of such training. The
princess wished the monastery to be unendowed, but the Saint would
not hear of it, for she knew that the place was poor, and that the
people, supposing that a great personage like the princess of Eboli
had taken care of the temporal necessities of the house she had
founded, would therefore suffer the nuns to perish of want. The
generosity of the princess was not to be relied on. At this time the
princess of Eboli found out — nobody knows how — that the Saint had
written her Life, and insisted on reading it. The Saint for a long
time withheld it, but at last yielded to the importunities of Ruy
Gomez, who came to his wife's aid. The princess ridiculed the book;
left it for her servants to read; and these, following her example,
divulged its contents, and raised an outer}' against the Saint. It
was this conduct of the princess that led the Inquisition to demand
the book (Reforma, lib. ii. ch. xxviii. §§ 5 — 7). See also Relation, vii.
§ 17.
1 The Saint had only two nuns with her at this time (see note1,
§ 4), and so she sent to Medina for Isabel of S. Jerome and Anne of
Jesus, who had both taken the habit there. In addition to these
there came another nun from her old monastery of the Incarnation,
Avila (Ribera, lib. ii. ch. xv.).
CH. XVII.] PASTRANA. 507
great preacher, by name Fra Baltasar de Jesus,1 who, when
he heard that we were founding the monastery, came with
the nuns, intending to become a barefooted friar himself,
as indeed he did' when he came, and for which I gave praise
unto God when he told me of it. He gave the habit to father
Mariano and his companion,2 but as lay brothers ; for Mariano
wished not to be a priest, but to be less than all the rest, nor
could I prevail upon him to do otherwise. At a later time
he was ordained priest by commandment of the most reverend
the father-general.3
14. The two monasteries,4 then, being founded, and the
father Fra Antonio of Jesus having arrived, novices began
to come in — what they were will be known by what I shall
say of some of them further on — and so earnestly to serve
our Lord, as any one more able to speak than I am — for I am
certainly unable myself — will tell, if it should so please our
1 Fra Baltasar of Jesus, Nieto, was born in Zafra, in Estremadura,
and entered the order under the relaxed observance. He was one of
the great preachers of Spain, and famous even in Portugal. He seems
to have longed for a stricter way of life, and took the first opportunity
offered him of going over to the reform of S. Teresa. The Saint
wrote on this occasion to the prior of Medina begging him to allow
one of his friars to accompany her nuns to Pastrana. The prior sent
Fra Baltasar, who accepted the duty with joy (Reforma, lib. ii. ch.
xxviii. § 8).
2 The monastery of the friars was founded June 9, 1569, on which
day the friars took civil possession of the place; but as Fra Antonio
of Jesus had not then arrived, for whom the Saint intended the honour
of making the foundation, the Most Holy Sacrament was not re
served on that day, but on the 13th, which is counted as the true date
of the foundation (Reforma, lib. ii. ch^xxx. § 1).
3 Fra Mariano was ordained priest in Lent, 1574, and was the first
master of novices in Seville (Re forma, lib. iii. ch. xxiv. § 1).
4 The Saint went from Pastrana to Toledo, and sent back from
that house, in the carriage in which she had travelled herself, the sister
Isabel of S. Dominic, who had made her profession in Avila, to be the
prioress of Pastrana (Ribera, lib. ii. ch. xv.). The prioress was charged
by the Saint to have a strict account of every thing, small and great,
given them by the prince and princess of Eboli, kept in writing, with
the day of the month, and signed by the prioress herself (Reforma,
lib. ii. ch. xxviii. § 10). The sub-prioress of Pastrana was the mother
Isabel of S. Peter. Anne of the Angels, prioress of Malagon, was
sent for to Toledo to fill the place of Isabel of S. Dominic, and her
own place was filled by Mary of the Most Holy Sacrament (Ribera,
lib. ii. ch. xv.).
508 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XVII.
Lord. As to the nuns, their monastery there was held in
great esteem by the prince and princess, and the latter was
very careful to comfort and treat them well down to the death
of the prince Ruy Gomez, when the devil, or perhaps because
our Lord permitted it — His Majesty knoweth why — sent the
princess here as a nun, in the tumult of her grief for her
husband's death.1 In the distress she was in, the observance
of enclosure, to which she had never been accustomed, could
not be very pleasant for her; and the prioress, because of the
holy council,2 could not give her all the liberty she desired.
15. She became displeased with her, and with all the
nuns, so that, even after she laid aside the habit, and while
living in her own house, they were still an offence to her.
1 Ruy Gomez died in Madrid, July 29, 1573, attended in his last
illness by Mariano and Fra Baltasar of Jesus. The princess, in her
unreasonable sorrow, insisted on becoming a Carmelite nun at once,
and Mariano weakly yielded to her fury (Re forma, lib. iii. ch. xxi. § 1).
She leaves Madrid before her husband is buried, and hastens to Pas
trana to enter the monastery. Fra Baltasar of Jesus hurries before
her, and at two o'clock in the morning disturbs the nuns with the
news that the princess was coming. When the prioress, Isabel of
S. Dominic, had heard the story, she replied, "The princess a nun?
I give up the monastery for lost." The prioress called up the nuns,
and with them made what preparations they could for the reception
of their benefactress. About eight o'clock in the morning the princess
arrived with her mother. The nuns gave her another and a cleaner
habit, and she insisted on their admitting at the same time two per
sons as novices she had brought with her. The prioress objected,
for such a thing was not to be done without t!:e sanction of the
superior, whereupon the new nun cried out, "What have the friars
to do with my monastery?" The novices were received after con
sulting the prior, but the demands of the princess grew, and at last
she insisted on admitting her' visitors within the cloister, and on
having two maids to wait upon her. The nuns offered to be her serv
ants, but she must have her own way. The prioress had assigned
her as foundress a seat next herself in the refectory, and the princess
in her humility notwithstanding prayers and entreaties, took the
lowest place. At last her self-will exhausted the patience of the
prioress, who told her that if she did not suffer them to keep the rule
their mother would remove them from Pastrana. Thereupon she
left the house, and retired into one of the hermitages in the garden,
had a door made in the wall, and admitted all her friends to see her
in a nun's dress, doing her own will. At last she left the monastery,
but she also left it to struggle with poverty, for t!:e alms promised
by her husband and herself were withheld (Ib. lib. iii. ch. xxviii. §§
2—5).
1 Cone. Trid. sess. xxv. cap. 5.
CH. XVII.] PASTRANA. 509
The poor nuns were living in such disquiet that I strove with
all my might, imploring the superiors to remove them, that
they might come to Segovia, where I was then founding a
monastery, as I shall mention further on.1 Thither they came
leaving behind all that the princess had given them, but
bringing with them certain nuns whom the princess had
ordered them to admit without any dowry. The beds and
trilling things which the sisters themselves had taken with
them they brought away, leaving the inhabitants there ex
ceedingly sorry.2 I had the greatest joy in the world when I
1 See ch. xxi.
2 The Saint, when she found that it was no longer possible to pre
serve the house of Pastrana, consulted the provincial, Fra Angel de
Salazar, Fra Pedro Fernandez, Fra Dom. Banes, and Fra Hernando
del Castillo. They all agreed in the removal of the nuns if no change
could be wrought in the temper of the princess. Fra Hernando was
sent to see her — he had been a friend of her husband — but she refused
to see him, feigning illness. The prioress, being told to prepare
everything for the departure of the nuns, sent for the corregidor,
who came with a notary, who recorded the transaction. The prioress,
provided with her accounts, delivered up everything received from
the princess into the charge of the corregidor, who accepted the trust,
and gave her a formal receipt for the same. The princess now became
uneasy and wished the nuns to stay, but the last mass had been said,
and the Most Holy consumed, so the prioress answered it was too
late. The princess then begged them to take with them the two
nuns who had been in her service; they said they would readily take
one of them, Anne of the Incarnation; as for the other, the princess
might provide for her as she pleased. They left Pastrana at midnight,
according to Ycpcs, and, under the care of Julian of Avila, Antonio
Gaytan, and Fra Gabriel of the Assumption, arrived in Segovia in
the holy week of 1574. They were once in danger of death on the
road, and the Saint, at the moment in Segovia, said to her nuns, Let
us pray for those who are coming from Pastrana. The bishop of
Segorbe followed them to Segovia with a message from the princess
asking the Saint to take also the sister whom they had left behind;
she declined, because the monastery was already full. He then
threatened them with an action at law for the recovery of what the
princess had given them in Pastrana, whereupon the receipt of the
corregidor was produced and the poor bishop said no more (Re forma
de los Descalcos, lib. iii. ch. xxviii. §§ 7, 8). The chronicler says the
Saint received but one of the nuns thrust on the monastery by the
princess; perhaps the Saint may have relented later, and accepted her
after she had been left behind at Pastrana, and, to hide her gene
rosity, spoke of her as having arrived with her sisters. Anne of the
Incarnation made her profession in Segovia on the feast of SS. Simon
and Jude, 1574, and was in the monastery of Caravaca in 1581 (De la
Fucnte, ii. 367).
510 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XVIII.
saw them in peace, for I knew very well that they were blame
less as to the offence which the princess took — far from it,
for they treated her, during the time she wore the habit, with
as much respect as they did before she had put it on. The
cause of it all was that which 1 mentioned just now, and the
distress the princess was in, but a servant whom she had
brought with her was, I believe, to blame for it all. In a
word, our Lord, who permitted this, must have seen that the
monastery was not rightly placed there; His judgments are
high, and surpass the understanding of us all. I could not
have been so bold as to do what 1 did relying on my own
understanding, but I was guided by the advice of saintly and
learned men.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MONASTERY OF S. JOSEPH, SALAMANCA, FOUNDED IN 1570.
WEIGHTY COUNCILS FOR PRIORESSES.
1. WHEN these two foundations1 had been made, I re
turned to the city of Toledo,2 where I rested for some months
till the purchase of the house spoken of before3 was made, and
everything had been settled. While I was thus occupied a
rector4 of the Society of Jesus in Salamanca wrote to me to
say that a monastery of our order would be most useful there,
at the same time giving me reasons for thinking so. I had
been hitherto kept back from founding a house in poverty
1 Those of the nuns and of the friars (Re forma, lib. ii. ch. xliv. § 4).
2 The Saint returned to Toledo, July 21st, and remained there, with
slight interruptions, more than a year (Bollandists, n. 511).
8 See note to ch. xv. § 17.
* Martin Gutierrez was the confessor of the Saint's biographer,
Francis Ribera, while the latter still lived as a secular, and was the
means of winning him for the society. The provincial congregation
of Burgos in 1573, when the news arrived in Spain of the death of the
general S. Francis Borja, sent Gutierrez and Juan Suarez to Rome
with the provincial Gil Gonzalez. They were taken prisoners in
France by the Huguenots, and most cruelly treated. Gutierrez
was wounded and died of the wound; the others were released after
paying money for their lives (Life of F. Baltasar Alvarez}. He was
born in Almodovar 1524, and entered the society in 1550 (Bouix}.
SIXTEENTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del
1. Tomb of Alvaro de Mendoza, in the church of the Discalced Carmelites
at Avila. 2. Nicolas of Jesus-Maria, of the Doria family of Genoa. 3. Tomb of two
canons. Reinoso and Salinas. 14. Church of Our Lady of the Street. In the fore
ground a group of maragatos, conveying fresh fish to Madrid. 5. Entrance to this
church. 6. Folding chair used by St. Teresa. 7. Puchero or vase of earthenware,
used by St. Teresa to cook olla — a thick soup of vegetables. 8. Crystal vase used by
OUR LADY OP THE STREET AT PALENCIA.
XXII.
St. Teresa and the first nuns for the abulutions after Holy Communion
9. Drum belong-ing- to the time of the foundation. 10. Church and monastery
of DlHcalced Carmelites. Fish Peddlers. 11. Luisa d> AraKon, known at the
Carmel as Luisa of the Blessed Sacrament. 12. Arms of the Doria family. 13 Arms
of the I'adilla and Ara^on families. 14. Arms of Canon Reinoso and of Canon
.Salinas, la. Arms of the city of Paleneia. (See Appendix, note 23 )
CH. XVIII. J SALAMANCA. 511
there, because the place was very poor. But, considering that
Avila is quite as poor, and that God never abandons, nor ever
will, I believe, abandon any one who serves Him, I deter
mined to make the foundation, making such reasonable ar
rangements as I could, having but a few nuns, and they help
ing themselves by the labour of their hands. Going, then,
from Toledo to Avila, I applied from that place for the per
mission of the bishop,1 and obtained it; the bishop was very
gracious, for, as the father rector showed him what the order
is, and that the monastery would be for the service of God,
he gave his permission at once.
2. I thought myself, when I had the permission of the
ordinary, that the monastery was already founded, so easy
was everything to do. And so I contrived at once to hire2
a house, which a lady I knew told me of. It was a difficult
matter, because it was not a season for letting houses, and
because it was then in the possession of certain students, who
were persuaded to give it up whenever the persons came who
were to live in it. They knew nothing of the purpose for
which it had been hired, for I took the very greatest care of
that ; nothing was to be known till after taking possession,
because I have some experience now of what the devil does to
embarrass one of these monasteries. Though God did not
suffer him to molest this at the first, because He would have
it founded, yet afterwards the trouble and the oppositions we
met with were so great that everything is not, even now while
I am writing, quite got over, notwithstanding that it has been
founded for some years ; and so I believe that God is greatly
pleased with it, seeing that Satan cannot endure it.
3. Then, with the licence of the bishop and the house
secured, relying on the mercy of God — for there was nobody
there who could give me any help at all in supplying the
many things that were necessary for the furnishing of that
house — I set out for the place, taking with me only two nuns,:{
1 The bishop of Salamanca at this time was Don Pedro Gonzalez
de Mendoza, son of the duke of Infantado, consecrated in 1560; he
was bishop fourteen years, and was one of the prelates who had been
in the Council of Trent (De la Fuentc}.
3 The house belonged to Gonzalo YanezdeOvalle (Yepes,lib.ii.23).
3 In the latter end of October. The nun, her companion was
Mary of the Most Holy Sacrament, according to Ribera, Yepes, and
John a Jesu Maria; but the author of the Reforma says she was Mary
of the Holy Ghost, forgetting the Saint's account below, ch. xix. § 4.
512 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. |C±i. XVIII.
for greater secrecy. I found it better to do so than to take
the nuns till I had taken possession, for I had received a
lesson by what took place in Medina del Campo, when I found
myself there in gr.eat straits. Now, if any difficulties arose,
I should bear them by myself, with only one nun, whom I
could not travel without. We arrived on the eve of All
Saints, having travelled a great part of the night before in
the excessive cold, and slept in one place, being myself very
unwell.
4. In giving an account of these foundations I do not
speak of the great hardships of travelling in cold, heat, and
snow. Once it snowed the whole day long, at other times
we missed cur road, and again I had sicknesses and fever; for
glory be to God, my health is generally weak; but I saw clearly
that our Lord was giving me strength. It has happened to
me from time to time, while occupied in these foundations,
to find myself amidst such pains and sufferings as distressed
me much, for it seemed to me if I were then even in my cell,
I could have done nothing but lie down on my bed, turn to
our Lord, complaining to His Majesty, and asking Him how
it was that He would have me do what was beyond my
power. His Majesty would then give me strength, not with
out suffering however, and in the fervour and earnestness
with which He filled me I seemed to have forgotten myself.
So far as I remember at present I never refrained from making
a foundation through fear of trouble, though I felt a great
dislike to journeys, especially long ones; but when I had once
started I thought nothing of them, looking to Him in whose
service they were undertaken, and calling to mind that our
Lord would be praised, and that the Most Holy Sacrament
would dwell, in the house I was going to found. It is a special
joy to me to see one church more, when I consider how many
the Lutherans are destroying. I know of no trouble, however
great it may be, that should be dreaded when it is the condi
tion of obtaining so great a good for Christendom; and it
should be a great consolation to us — though many among
us do not think of it — that Jesus Christ, true God and true
man, dwells, as He does, in so many places in the Most Holy
Sacrament.
5. Certainly, as for myself, I have a great consolation
frequently in choir when I behold these souls, so pure, intent
on the praises of God, nor does it fail me on many other occa-
CH. XVIII.] SALAMANCA. 513
sions, for it is a joy to me to see their obedience and happi
ness, which so strict an enclosure and solitude supply them,
and their cheerfulness when they have any opportunity of
mortifying themselves. Whenever the prioress is enabled by
a greater grace from our Lord to try them herein, there I see
the greater happiness; and the prioress then is more wearied
of trying them than they are of obeying, for their desires are
never satisfied herein.
6. Though I may be wandering from the story of the
foundation which I had begun to describe, certain considera
tions now suggest themselves to me on the subject of morti
fication, and perhaps, my children, they will be of service
to the prioress; so, lest I should forget, I will now tell them.
As the prioresses have different gifts and virtues, so they
wish to direct their nuns accordingly. She who is most
mortified will look upon everything she may order for the
purpose of subduing the will as easy to do: it may be so for
her, and yet perhaps it may be very hard to obey. This is
what we have seriously to consider: we are not to command
others to do what seems very hard to ourselves. Discretion
is a great thing in government, and exceedingly necessary in
these houses — I am going to say much more necessary than
in others — because the prioresses here have to watch more
carefully over the interior state and the outward demeanor
of their subjects. Other prioresses of much spirituality would
be glad if we all were given to prayer. In a word, our Lord
leads souls onwards by different roads ; the prioresses, how
ever, must consider that they have not been appointed to
guide souls by the road which they like themselves, but rather
to direct their subjects according to the rule and constitutions,
even if they have to do violence to themselves herein, and
prefer another way.
7. I was once in a monastery of ours with a prioress for
whom penance had a great attraction. She directed all the
sisters by that way. At one time the whole community took
the discipline, reciting the seven penitential psalms with the
prayers, and had other observances of the same kind. The
same thing happens if the prioress be given to prayer: she
occupies the community therein, though it be not the time for
prayer, even after matins, when it would be much better if all
the nuns went to sleep. If, again, she is given to mortification,
there is to be no rest anywhere, and those poor flocks of the
514 BOOK OF THF FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XVIII.
Virgin are silent like lambs. All this, certainly, is to me a
source of shame and devotion, and at times a strong tempta
tion, for the sisters, all absorbed in God, do not perceive it,
but I fear for their health, and would rather they kept the
rule, for that gives them enough to do, and whatever is beside
that should be done with gentleness. This matter of morti
fication especially is of great importance, and I would have
the prioresses, for the love of our Lord, look into it; for in
these houses it is a very important thing to have discretion
and to understand dispositions, and if herein they are not
very observant they will do great harm instead of good, and
make the sisters uneasy.
8. They must consider that mortification of this kind
is not of obligation: that is the first thing they have to look
to. Though it is most necessary to enable souls to attain
to liberty and high perfection, that is not gained in a moment,
and they must therefore help every one onwards according to
the intellectual and spiritual gifts which God has given them.
You may think that understanding is not necessary for this :
that is a nistake, for there are some who must labour much
before they can arrive at the knowledge of perfection and
of the spirit of our rule, and afterwards, perhaps, these very
persons will be the most saintly ; they may not know when it is
safe to excuse themselves, nor when it is not, and they may be
ignorant of other minute observances which, when they shall
have understood them, they will keep perhaps with ease, and
which they never thoroughly understand, nor — which is worse
— look upon as matters appertaining unto perfection.
9. In one of our monasteries is a sister who, so far as
I can see, is one of the greatest servants of God there-
great in spirituality, in the graces His Majesty bestows upon
her, and in penance and humility — but she does not under
stand certain things in the constitutions; the mentioning of
the faults of others in chapter she considers to be a want of
charity, and says that when she has to tell anything of the
sisters, or anything of that kind, she may be speaking against
<n sister who may be a great servant of God ; and yet in other
ways I see that she far surpasses those who understand the
constitutions well The prioress must not think that she sees
into souls at once : let her leave this with God, who alone can
see into them ; but let her labour to guide each soul by the
way His Majesty is guiding it. always supposing that there
CH. XVIII.] SALAMANCA. 515-
is no failure of obedience, or in the more essential points of
the rule and constitutions. She who, among the eleven thou
sand virgins, went and hid herself, was not the less a saint
and martyr: on the contrary, perhaps she suffered more than
the others in coming afterwards alone to offer herself for
martyrdom.1
10. I return now to the subject of mortification. A
prioress, to mortify a sister, bids her do something which,
though in itself a trifle, is yet a burden to the nun. When
it is done the sister is so disturbed and tempted that it would
have been better if such a command had not been given her.
The moment this becomes evident the prioress should consider
that she cannot make her perfect by a strong arm, but should
raiher dissemble, and proceed by degrees till our Lord shall
have done this work in her, lest what is done for the purpose
of bringing her on — for without this particular form of perfec
tion she might be a very good nun — should be an occasion of
disquiet to her, and an affliction of spirit, which is a most
dreadful thing. If that nun sees the others doing these things
she too by degrees will do them ; we have found it so ; and if
she should not she may be saved without this virtue.
11. I know one of this kind, whose whole life has been
most virtuously spent, who for many years and in many
ways has served our Lord, but who has some imperfections
and certain feelings at times over which she has no control ;
she is aware of it, and comes to me in her distress. God, I
think, lets her fall into these imperfections without sin on
her part — there is no sin in them — that she may humble
herself, and see thereby that she is not altogether perfect.
Some, then, there are who will undergo great mortifications
— and the greater the mortifications enjoined the greater will
be their pleasure therein — because our Lord has endowed their
souls with strength to give up their own will ; others will not
be able to endure even slight ones, and they are as a child
loaded with two bushels of corn, who not only cannot carry
1 Quacdam autem virgo, nomine Cordula, timore perterrita, in
uavi nocte ilia se abscondit, sed in crastinum sponte morti se offerens,
martyrii coronam suscepit. Sed cum ejus festum non fieret, eo quod
cum aliis passa non esset, ipsa post longum tempus cuidam reclusns
apparuit, prrecipiens ut sequentendie a festo virginum quotannis solem-
nitas recoleretur (Jarobi a Voragine, in jest, undecim millia
Virginum}
516 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XVIII.
them, but breaks down under the burden and falls to the
ground. Forgive me, then, my daughters — I am speaking to
the prioresses — for that which I have observed in some has
made me dwell so long upon this.
12. I have another caution to give, and it is very im
portant: never command anything, even for the trial of a
sister's obedience, which may be to her, if she does it, even
a venial sin. I have known some things enjoined which would
have been mortal if they had been done : the sisters, however,
might perhaps have been safe in their innocence — not so the
prioress who never commands anything that is not instantly
done. As they hear and read what the saints of the desert
did, they look upon every thing enjoined them as good — at
least the doing of it. And the subjects also must consider
that they are not to do that, even when enjoined them, which
would be mortal sin when not enjoined, except absence' from
mass, or the non-observance of a fast of the church, or actions
of that kind, for in these matters the prioress may have her
reasons; but to throw oneself into a well and acts of that
nature are mistakes, because no one ought to suppose that
God will work a miracle, as He did for the saints. There
are ways enough to practise perfect obedience, and every wray
that is free from these dangers I commend..
13. Once a sister in Malagon begged leave to take the
discipline, and the prioress — others must have made the same
request — replied, "Leave me alone." But, as she was impor
tunate, the prioress said, "Go along; leave me alone." There
upon the nun, with great simplicity, walked about for some
hours, till one of the sisters asked her why she was walking
so much, or said something to that effect. She replied that
she had been ordered to do so. Meanwhile the bell rung
for matins, and when the prioress asked why that nun had
not come the other told her what was going on. It is neces
sary, as I said before, that the prioresses should be very cau
tious in dealing with souls whom they already know to be
obedient, and consider what they are doing.
14. To another prioress came a nun, and showed her a
very large worm, saying, "Look how beautiful it is !" The
prioress in jest replied, "Then go and eat it." She went
and fried it. The cook asked her why she fried a worm, and
she answered, "To eat it," and would have done so. Thus
through the great carelessness of the prioress that nun might
CH. XIX.] SALAMANCA. 517
have done herself much harm. I arn the more delighted with
obedience when carried to an extreme, for I have a particular
devotion to this virtue. I have therefore done all I could,
that all the sisters might have it; nevertheless all my efforts
would have been little worth if our Lord had not, in the ex
cesses of His compassion, given them the grace, all of them,
to feel a special attraction for it. May it please His Majesty
to increase it more and more !
CHAPTER XIX.
MONASTERY OF S, JOSEPH, SALAMANCA.
1. I HAVE wandered far away from the subject for, when
ever anything occurs to me which it pleased cur Lord I should
learn by experience, it is distressing net to speak of it; it may
be that it will do gocd, as I think it will. Do you, my
daughters, go always for direction to learned men, for thereby
shall you find the way of perfection in discretion and truth.
It is very necessary for prioresses, if they would execute their
office well, to have learned men for their confessors — if not
they will do many foolish things, thinking them to be saintly ;
and, moreover, they must contrive that their nuns go to con
fession to learned men.
2. About noon, then, on the eve of All Saints, in the
year already mentioned, we came to Salamanca.1 From my
lodging I sent for a gocd man living there, whom I had trusted
with the work of getting the house emptied for us. His name
is Nicolas Gutierrez, a great servant of God, who by his good
life had obtained from His Majesty peace and contentment
amid his heavy trials — and they were many, for he was once
very prosperous, but was at this time in great poverty, which
he bore as joyfully as he had borne his prosperity. He laboured
much with great devotion and goodwill in the making of this
foundation. When he came he told me that the house was
not yet empty, for he had not been able to persuade the
students2 to go out. I told him how much it concerned me
1 In the year 1570. See ch. xviii. § 3.
1 One of these students was Don Juan Moriz, afterwards bishop of
Barbastro (De la Fuente}.
518 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XIX.
to have possession of it at once, before it was known that I
was in the town; for I was always afraid of some disiurbance,
as I said before.1 He went to the owner of the house, and
tock so much trouble in the matter that the house was left
empty in the evening. We went in when it was nearly dark.
3. This was the first foundation I made without the
presence of the Most Holy Sacrament, for I did not think
that I tock possession if He was not lodged in the house. I
had now learnt that it made no difference, which was a great
comfort to me, because the students had left the house in a
very unseemly state, and, as they had but little regard for
cleanliness, the whole place was in such a condition that we
had no slight work to do that night.
4. Early the next morning mass was said there for the
first time, and I sent for more nuns,2 who were to come from
Medina del Campo. My companion and I were alone the night
of All Souls. I have to tell ycu one thing, my sisters, at which
I am ready to laugh when I remember it — the fears of my
companion, Mary of the Blessed Sacrament, a nun older than
myself, and a great servant of God. The house was very large
and rambling, with many garrets, and my companion could
not get the students out of her thoughts, thinking that, as they
were so annoyed at having to quit the house, some of them
might still be hiding in it : they could very easily do so, for
there was room enough. We shut ourselves up in a room
wherein the straw was placed, that being the first thing I
provided for the founding of the house, for with the straw
we could not fail to have a bed. That night we slept on it,
covered by two blankets that had been lent us.3 The next
day the nuns who lived close by, and who, we thought, were
not at all pleased with us, lent us blankets for our sisters that
were to come, and sent us alms. It was the monastery of
S. Elizabeth, and all the time we remained in that house they
rendered us many kind services and gave us alms.4
1 See ch. xviii. § 2.
2 Anne of the Incarnation, Mary of Christ, and Jeronyma of Jesus
came from Medina; and from Avila came Anne of Jesus, Juana of
Jesus, and Mary of St. Francis. Anne of the Incarnation was made
prioress, and Mary of Christ sub-prioress (Ribcra, ii. 16).
3 By the fathers of the Society of Jesus (Ribera, ii. 16).
* The nuns sent food to the Saint the very day she came, and
continued to do so (Yepes, ii. 23). They were nuns of the third order
of S. Francis, and the house was surpressed in 1857 (De la Fuente}.
CH. XIX.] SALAMANCA. 519
5. When my companion saw herself shut up in the room
she seemed somewhat at her ease about the students, though
O
she did nothing but look about her, first on this side and then
on the other : still she was afraid, and Satan must have helped
her to imagine dangers for the purpose of troubling me, for,
owing to the weakness of the heart from which I suffer, very
little is enough to do it. I asked her why she was looking
about, seeing that nobody could possibly come in. She replied,
"Mother, I am thinking, if I were to die now, what you would
do all alone." I thought it would be a very disagreeable thing
if it happened. It made me dwell on it for a moment, and even
to be afraid, for, though I am not afraid of dead bodies, they
always cause a certain faintness of the heart even when I am
not alone. And as the bells were tolling — it was, as I said
before, the eve of All Souls — the devil tcck advantage cf that
to make us waste cur thoughts upon trifles ; when he sees we
are not afraid of him he searches for other means. I an
swered her, "Sister, when that shall happen I will consider
what I shall do ; now let me go to sleep." As we had spent
two nights without rest, sleep seen put an end to our fears.
More nuns came on the following day, and then all our terrors
were over.
6. The community remained in the same house about three
years — I am not sure it was net four — almost unheeded. But
I was ordered to go to the monastery cf the Incarnation in
Avila j1 for of my own will I would never leave a house, nor did
1 After making the foundation in Alba de Tormes, in January,
1571, the Saint returned to Salamanca, where sl.e was still at the
end of March. From Salamanca she went to Medina del Campo,
where the nuns were in trouble because tl.e family of Isabel of the
Angels, one of the novices, young and wealthy, made objections to
her disposal of her property. Angel de Salazar, provincial of Carmel,
was on the side of the family against the monastery, and the Saint on
the other; the provincial thereupon forgot himself being also vexed
because the Saint and the nuns made lues of Jesus prioress, whereas
he had wished Dona Teresa de Quesada, who was a nun of the old
observance, to be the superior of the community, and, under pain of
excommunication, ordered the Saint and the prioress to quit the house
before night. The Saint, though very ill, obeyed, and the provincial
made Dona Teresa prioress, who had never accepted the Reform. The
Saint went to Avila, and was there visited by Fra Pedro Fernandez,
Dominican, lately made visitor of Carmel in Castille by his Holiness S.
Pius V. He wished to see her because he had heard so much about
her from Fra Dominic Banes. The visitor sent her back from Avila
520 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XIX.
I leave any, till it was properly ordered and arranged, for
herein God has been very gracious unto me: it is a joy to me
to be the foremost in trouble, and I used to provide even to the
minutest matters, whatever might be of use and comfort to
the nuns, as if I had to live in that house all my life, and
accordingly I was glad when the sisters were happily settled.
I was very sorry for the sufferings of the nuns here — not,
however, arising from the want of food, for, the house being
very much out of the way, and therefore not likely to receive
much alms, I took care to provide for it from the place where
I was staying, but from its unhealthiness, it being damp
and excessively cold, and that could not be helped because of
its great size. But the worst of all was the absence of the
Most Holy Sacrament, which in a house so strictly enclosed
was a serious privation. They did not take it too much to
heart, but bore it all so contentedly that I cannot but praise
our Lord for it ; and some of them told me that they considered
it an imperfection to wish for another house, and would have
been well pleased to remain there if they could have had the
Most Holy Sacrament.
7. Afterwards the superior,1 seeing their perfection and
the troubles they had to bear, had compassion on them, and
to Medina, where the monastery was in disorder — Dona Teresa having
left and returned to her own house of the Incarnation in Avila — and
followed her thither soon after himself. Having visited that house,
S. Teresa being prioress, he returned to Avila, and visited that of the
Incarnation, which was in a sad state spiritually and temporally.
After consultation with the provincial and the definitors of Carmel
he made S. Teresa prioress of her old home, the Incarnation, she
being at the time prioress in Medina. The Saint was most unwilling
to accept the office [which seems to have been laid upon her early
in July, according to her account in Relation, iii. § 11]; but, neverthe
less, she entered on it, and was duly installed by the visitor, the nuns
being most unwilling to receive her [in October, 1571, as appears from
ch. xxi. § 8]. Before she entered on her duties she formally renounced,
in the house of S. Joseph, Avila, the mitigated observance, and made
profession of the strict rule, the observance of which she was labour
ing to restore. When she had taken possession of the priorate she
begged the visitor to give her two confessors of the Reform for the
house, and Fra Pedro sent S. John of the Cross and Fra German of
S. Mathias (Ribcra, iii. 1; Yepes, ii. 25; Re forma, lib. ii. ch. xlviii., xlix.;
lib. iv. ch. xxvii § 2).
1 Fra Pedro Fernandez, Dominican, and Apostolic visitor of the
Carmelite province of Castille. See below ch. xxi. § 1.
CH. XIX.] SALAMANCA. 521
sent for me from the monastery of the Incarnation.1 They
had already arranged with a nooleman2 to take a house of him,
but it was in sucii a state as to make it necessary to spend
more than a thousand ducats on it before they could go into
it: the house was an entail, and the owner agreed that we
might enter into possession of it, and also raise the walls,
though the king's licence was not had. I got Father Julian
of Avila to accompany me — he it is whom I have spoken of
as going with me in these foundations — he went with me,
and we looked at the house that we might be able to say
what should be done to it, for experience has taught me much
in these matters. We set out in August,3 and, though we made
all possible has^e, we were delayed till Michaelmas, which
is the time of letting houses there : our house was far from
being finished, and that in which we were then living, as we
had not hired it for another year, had already found a tenant,
and he was hurrying us out of it. The whitewashing of the
church was nearly done. The nobleman who had sold us
the house was away : some people who wished us well said
we had done wrong in going in so soon ; but where necessity
drives good advice is ill received if no help is given with it.*
8. We went in on the vigil of S. Michael, a little before
dawn. It had been already made known that on the feast of
S. Michael the Most Holy Sacrament was to take up His
dwelling there, and that a sermon was to be preached. It
was our Lord's pleasure that on the eve of our going in so
heavy a rain should fall as to make it difficult to take what
1 It was Anne of Jesus who obtained permission from the visitor
for the Saint to leave the monastery of the Incarnation, where she had
been prioress for the last two years nearly (Reforma de los Descalqos,
lib. ii. ch. xx. § 1).
2 Pedro de la Vanda, caballero calificado, aunque no muy rico y de
condicion indigesta (Rcforma, lib. iii. ch. xx. § 1).
3 The journey was made for the most part by night, because of the
great heat; and Fra Antonio of Jesus and Julian of Avila accompanied
the Saint, who had with her Dona Quiteria de Avila, a nun of the
Incarnation (Ribcra, ii. 16).
4 The royal licence for the alienation of the house was obtained
but in August, 1573, the Saint had not been able to settle with Pedro
de la Vanda. She complains of him again in the beginning of 1574.
(See Letter 34, Lett. 48 vol. iii. ed. Doblado, and Letter 37; but the
passage is wanting in the former editions of that letter, which is
the 14th of vol. ii. ed. Doblado.)
522 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XIX.
was most necessary for us into the house. The chapel was
newly built, but the roof was so badly made that the rain came
through the greater part of it. I tell you, my daughters,
that I found I was very imperfect that day. As notice had
been given, I knew not what to do; I did nothing but bewail
myself, and so, as if complaining, I said to our Lord that
He must either not bid me to apply myself to these founda
tions or relieve us in our present necessity. The good man
Nicolas Gutierrez, with his usual calmness, as if nothing was
amiss, told me very gently not to distress myself — God would
send help. So He did, for on the feast of S. Michael, when
it was time for the people to come, the sun began to shine —
which stirred up my devotion exceedingly — and I saw how
much bet:er that holy man had done by trusting in God
than I had done with all my labour.
9. Many people came, and we had music, and the Most
Holy Sacrament was brought in with great solemnity. As
the house was in a good position, it began to be known and
regarded with respect ; the countess of Monterey,1 Dona Maria
Pimentel, in particular, and a lady, Dona Mariana, the wife
of the governor, were very kind to us. Immediately after
wards, on the next day, to moderate our joy in the possession
of the Most Holy Sacrament, came the nobleman, the owner
of the house, so exceedingly out of temper that I did not
know what to do with him, and Satan urged him so that he
1 Within two months of the foundation of the house in Salamanca
the Saint was called to establish another in Alba, as recorded in the
next chapter. In February or March, 1571, she returned to Salamanca
to console her sisters who were in distress. The count and countess
of Monterey had obtained permission of her superiors, if she came
to Salamanca, to have her in their house. She was therefore lodged
with them, and while there two miracles were wrought by her: the
first was the cure of Dona Maria de Artiega, whose husband had the
care of the count's children; and the other was the restoration to health
of the count's little daughter, whose life was despaired of. They
begged the Saint to pray, and she, withdrawing to her own room,
prayed for the child. S. Catherine of Siena and S. Dominic appeared
to her, and told her the child's life was granted to her prayers, and
that it was to wear the habit of S. Dominic for a year. The Saint
made the vision known to Fra Banes, who communicated it to the
father and mother. The child was clothed in the habit of S. Dominic,
and wore it for a year. She was afterwards married to the count of
Olivares, and was the mother of the duke of San Lucar (Reforma de
los Descalqos, lib. ii. ch. xlviii. § 2).
CH. XIX.] SALAMANCA. 523
would not listen to reason: we, however, had fulfilled our
bargain with him, but it was useless to teil him so. He
softened a little when some people spoke to him, but he after
wards changed his mind. I now resolved to give up the
house; that did not please him, because he wanted to have
the price of it at once. His wife — the house belonged to her
had wished to sell it, that she might dower her two daughters ;
and it was on that ground the licence for alienation was
sought, the money being deposited in the hands of a person
chosen by him.
10. It is now three years since this affair was begun,
and the purchase is net yet made, and I do net know whether
the monastery will remain here — I mean in this house — that
is why I speak of it— or where it shall be settled.1 What I
do know is this — in none of the monasteries of the primitive
rule which our Lord has hitherto founded have the nuns had
so much to suffer as in this. They are so good that, by the
mercy of Gcd, they bear it all with joy. May it please His
Majesty that they may grow still better! for it is of little
consequence whether the house we have is good or bad: on
the contrary, it is a great pleasure to us to find ourselves in a
house cut cf which we may be driven at any time, remem
bering that the Lord of the world had none.2 It has been often
our lot, as may be seen in the history of these foundations,
to live in a house that is, or was, not our own, and the truth
is that I have never seen one cf the nuns distressed about it.
May it please His Divine Majesty, of His infinite goodness
and mercy, that we fail not to reach the everlasting dwelling-
places ! Amen, amen.
1 The nuns some years after this, but after the death of the Saint,
were obliged to leave the house owing to the difficult temper of Don
Pedro. They retired to the hospice of the Rosary, close to the
Dominican house of S. Stephan (Ycpcs, ii., 23). They left that house
in the year 1614, and settled outside the ViHamayor Gate (Rcforma,
lib. iii. ch. xxiii. § 3). The house was almost ruined by the Portuguese
during the war of succession (De la Fuente).
2 S. Luke. ix. 58.
524 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [cH. XX.
CHAPTER XX.
THE MONASTERY O7 OUR LADY OF THE ANNUNCIATION,
ALi,A DE TORMES, IN THE YEAR iO/1.
1. Two months had not passed since I took possession,
on All Souls Day,1 of the house in Salamanca, when I was
urged, on the part of the steward of the duke of Alba and his
wife,2 to found a monastery in that town. I was not very
willing to do so, for it would be necessary, because it was a
small place, to have an endowment, and my inclination was
never to have any. The father master Fra Dominic Banes,
my confessor, of whom I spoke in the beginning of the history
of these foundations, being then in Salamanca, rebuked me,
and said that, as the council3 allowed endowments, it would
not be well if I refrained from founding a monastery for that
reason — that I did not understand the matter, for an endow
ment need not hinder the nuns from being poor and most
perfect. Before I say more I will tell who the foundress was,
and how our Lord made her the foundress of this house.
HIS.4
2. Teresa de Layz, the foundress of the monastery of the
Annunciation of our Lady of Alba de Tormes, was the daugh
ter of parents of noble birth, ancient lineage, and honoured an
cestry, who, because they were not so wealthy as they were
well-born, had settled in a place called Tordillos, some two
leagues from Alba. It is very sad, because so much vanity
is in the world, that people should willingly undergo the loss
of instruction, and of many other things which help to give
light to the soul, which is inseparable from dwelling in small
villages, rather than give up one of those distinctions which
that which men call their honour carries with it. They had
1 Ch. xix. § 2.
1 Francis Velasquez and Teresa de Layz obtained the helo of Don
Juan de Ovalle and his wife, the Saint's sister Juana, in this negotiation
(Ribcra, ii. 17).
3 See ch. ix. § 3, note (3).
4 Thus in the original MS.
CH. XX.] ALBA DE TORMES. 525
four daughters already when Teresa was born, and were much
distressed when they saw that she too was a girl.
3. It certainly is a thing much to be lamented that mortal
men, not knowing what is best for them, as persons wholly
ignorant of the judgments of God, discerning neither the
great blessings that come by daughters nor the great evils
that come by sons, should seem so unwilling to leave it in
His hands to whom everything is known and by whom all
things are made, but must fret themselves to death about that
in which they should rather rejoice. As people whose faith
is asleep, they will not seriously consider nor remember that
it is God who 'thus ordains — that they may leave it all in His
hands; and now, when they are so blind as not to do so, it is
a great ignorance not to understand how little they gain by
their fretting. O my God, in what a different light shall
we look on our ignorances in that day when the truth of all
things shall be made known! How many will have to go to
hell because of their sons, and also how many mothers will go
to heaven by the help of their daughters !
4. To go back to what I was saying, things came to this
pass, that, as if the infant's life was of no importance to them,
she was left alone on the third day after she was born, and
nobody thought of her from morning till night. One good
thing they had done — they had had her baptised by a priest
as soon as she was born. When night came, a woman who had
the charge of her, and who knew what had happened, ran to
see if she was dead, and with her some others who had come
to visit the mother, and who were witnesses of what I am
going to say. The woman, in tears, took the child into her
arms and said, "How, my child? Are you not a Christian?"
as much as to say that she had been cruelly dealt with. The
child raised its head and said, "Yes, I am." She never spoke
again till she had rea-ched the age at which children usually
speak. They who knew her were amazed, and her mother
then began to cherish and caress her, and used often to say she
should like to live to see what God would do with the child.
She brought her up most admirably, teaching her the practice
of all virtue.
5. When the time had come they wanted her to marry ;
she refused, having no wish to do so; but when she found
that it was Francis Velasquez, founder also of this house, and
now her husband, who sought her in marriage, though she
526 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XX.
had never seen him in all her life, yet, merely on hearing his
name spoken, she made up her mind to be married if they
would let her marry him. Our Lord saw that this was neces
sary for the doing of that good work which they have done
together for the services of His Majesty. Francis Velasquez
is not only a wealthy and good man, but he is one who so
loves his wife that he does her pleasure in everything, and
for good reasons, because whatever may be required in a
wife our Lord has most abundantly supplied. She is not only
careful of his house, but is also exceedingly good, for when
her husband took her to Alba, his na.ive place, and the
quarter-masters of the duke assigned a lodging in her house
to a young knight, she felt it so much that she hated the place,
for, being young and very beautiful, evil might have happened
if she had not been so good, seeing that Satan began to suggest
evil thoughts to the knight.
6. She, perceiving this, but without saying anything
about it to her husband, asked him to take her elsewhere ;
he did so, and brought her to Salamanca, where they
lived in great happiness and worldly prosperity, for
he held an office1 on account of which everybody wished
much to satisfy and please him. One trouble only they had —
our Lord left them childless. She used to practise many
devotions and make many prayers to obtain children of our
Lord, and never begged anything else frcm Him but children
who when she was dead were to praise His Majesty; for she
thought it hard that all should end with her, and that when
her time was come she should leave none behind to praise
God. She told me herself that she had no other reason for
desiring children, and she is a woman of great truthfulness ;
she is so pious and so good a Christian, as I have already said,
that she makes me give thanks to God when I see her good
works, and consider how anxious she is Always to please Him,
and to spend all her time unceasingly in His service.
7. She passed many years having this desire, praying
also to S. Andrew, who she was told would intercede for her
in her trouble. One nip-ht, after her many devotions were over
which she used habitually to make, she heard a voice, when
she had laid down to sleep, saying. "Do not wish for children :
1 Ribera, ii. 17, says he knew Velasquez in Salamanca, where he
was treasurer of the University, having the care of its prooerty, and
the duty of paying their salaries to the professors and regents.
CH. XX. j ALBA DE TORMES. 527
why damn thyself?" She was very much astonished and
alarmed, but for all this the wish to have children never left
her; for, as the end she had in view was so good, she
could not see why she should be damned for it, and so she
went on praying to our Lord for children, and making special
prayers to S. Andrew in particular. On one occasion, enter
taining this desire, she does not know whether she was awake
or asleep — be that as it may, she knows by the results it was
a good vision — she seemed to be in a certain house in the
court of which, beneath the gallery, was a well, and there
she saw a meadow fresh and green, covered with white
flowers in such great beauty that she cannot describe what
she saw. Close to the well she beheld S. Andrew in a most
venerable and beautiful form, so that it was a great joy to
look upon him : he said to her, "These children are different
from those whom thcu desirest." She wished the great joy
she had in that place might net come to an end, but it did not
last. She saw distinctly it was S. Andrew, without being told
so by anybody, and also that it was our Lord's will that she
should found a monastery; whereby we may see that the
vision was as much intellectual as imaginary — that it could
not be fancy cr an illusion of Satan.
8. In the first place, it was no fancy, because of the great
results that flowed frcm it, for from that moment she never
again wished for children: she was so persuaded in her heart
that it was the will of God that she neither asked or even
desired to have children any more. Next, it is clear also that
the voice came not from Satan, because of the effects of it;
for nothing that comes from him can do any good, as the
founding of a monastery can, wherein our Lord is greatly
served. And, again, it could not be from Satan, because it
took place more than six years before the monastery was,
founded, and Satan cannot know what is coming. Being
much amazed at the vision, she said to her husband that
they might as well found a monastery, seeing that it was not
God's will they should have children. As he was so good,
and loved her so much, her husband was delighted at it, and
they began to consider where they should make a foundation.
She was for the place where she was born : he suggestetd to
her many good reasons against it, in order that she might see
it would not do to build it there.
9. While they were discussing the matter the duchess of
528 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XX.
Alba sent for the husband, and when he had come asked him
to return to Alba, and there undertake a charge and office she
gave him in her household. He, when he saw what she required
of him and had spoken to him about it, accepted it, though
much less profitable than his office in Salamanca. His wife
when she heard of it was much distressed, because, as I said be
fore, she hated the place ; but on being assured by him that no
lodgers would be admitted into the house she was somewhat
satisfied, though still very sorry, because she liked Salamanca
better. He bought a house and sent for her; she came in
great grief, and was more grieved still when she saw the
house, for, though it was in a very good situation and large,
yet it had not many rooms, and so she passed the night in
very great sadness. The next morning, on entering the court,
she saw on that very side of it the well beside which she had
seen S. Andrew ; everything was precisely as she had seen in
the vision — I mean the place itself — but she did not see the
Saint, or the meadow, or the flowers, though then and always
present to her imagination. On seeing this she was troubled,
and made up her mind to found a monastery on the spot.
She was now comforted and in peace, without any wish to
go elsewhere to live, and they began to buy other houses
near, till they had acquired ground enough.
10. She was very anxious to find out what order it
should belong to, her wish being that the nuns should be few,
and the enclosure strict. In discussing the matter with two
religious of different orders, very good and learned men, she
was recommended by both to do some other good work in
preference, because nuns, for the most part, are discontented
people. Many other things of that kind they said to her;
for, as Satan hated the work, he wished to hinder it, and so he
made them consider the reasons they were giving as very
weighty. As they insisted so much upon it that there was no
good in founding a monastery, and as Satan too, who had a
greater interest in hindering it, made her afraid and uneasy,
she resolved not to go on with her work, and said so to her
husband ; and then, as people of that kind told them it was
not right, and as they had no other object but that of serving
our Lord, they thought it right to forego their purpose.
Accordingly they agreed to marry a nephew of hers, a child
of her sister whom she loved much, to a niece of her husband,
and to give them a great portion of their property, and with the
CH. XX.] ALBA DE TORMES. 529
remainder to make provision for their own souls : the nephew
was very good and very young.
11. They were both bent on this, and perfectly satisfied
with their plan. But, as our Lord had other designs, their
agreement was of little worth, for within a fortnight the
nephew became so ill that in a few days our Lord took him
to Himself. To her it was a most bitter sorrow : the resolution
they had come to, of giving up that which God wished them
to do, in order to enrich the nephew, had been the occasion
of his death, and she fell into a great fear. She called to
mind what had happened to the prophet Jonas because he
would not obey God, for it seemed as if God was chastising
her by taking from her a nephew whom she loved so much.
From that day forth she was resolved to let nothing hinder
the founding of the monastery, and so was her husband,
though they did not know how to compass their end. God
put into her heart — so it seems — thai; which is now done ;
and they to whom she spoke and described the kind of monas
tery she wished to have — in particular her confessor, a Fran
ciscan friar, a learned and distinguished man — ridiculed it,
for they thought she would never find what she was seeking.
She was in very great trouble.
12. This friar happened to go, about this time, to a
certain place where he was told of these monasteries of our
Lady of Carmel which were being then established. Having
obtained much information about them, he returned and
told her that he had now learnt that she could found her
monastery, and in the way she wished. He told her what
had happened, and recommended her to find means of
speaking to rne. She did so. We had a great deal of trouble
in making the arrangement, for I have always laboured
to have the monasteries which are endowed sufficiently
furnished, so that there shall be no need for the nuns to apply
to their kindred or to anybody else, that they shall have in
the house whatever is necessary in food and raiment, and that
the sick shall be well cared for, because many inconveniences
result from the want of what is necessary. I have never been
without the courage and the confidence necessary for founding
monasteries without revenues, for I was certain God would
never fail them; but I have no heart for founding monasteries
to be endowed and that scantily ; I think it better not to
found them at all. At last they became reasonable, and
530 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [cil. XX.
assigned a sufficient endowment for the number of nuns ; they
also did that which I thought much of — they left their own
house and gave it to us, going themselves to live in one that
was in a wretched state. The Most Holy Sacrament was
reserved and the foundation made on the feast of the Con
version of S. Paul, in the year 1571, to the honour and glory
of God; and in that house, I believe, His Majesty is well
served. May it please Him ever to prosper it i1
13. I began by giving some account of particular sisters
in these monasteries, thinking that when people came to read
what I am writing those sisters would not be then alive : my
purpose was to encourage those who came to us to go on
wards, according to such a good beginning. Afterwards I
considered that there might be found some one who would do
it better, and more in detail, and without the fear that troubles
me, fcr I have been thinking that I shall be considered as an
interested person. I have therefore omitted many things
which they who have seen and known them cannot help
regarding as miraculous, because supernatural. I will not
speak on this subject, neither will I speak of those things
which our Lord visibly granted to our prayers. In the dates
of the foundations I suspect I am occasionally in error, though
I am as careful as I can be to refresh my memory. As it
is not a matter of much importance, and the correction can be
made hereafter, I speak to the best of my recollection : it will
make but little difference if there should be some mistakes.
1 The Saint went from Alba to Salamanca, having made Juana of
the Holy Ghost prioress, and Maria of the Most Holy Sacrament sub-
prioress (Ribera, n. ch. xvii).
CH. XXI.] SEGOVIA. 531
CHAPTER XXL
THE MONASTERY OF S. JOSEPH, SEGOVIA, 1574 FOUNDED ON THE
FEAST OF S. JOSEPH, 1574.
1. I HAVE already said1 that after founding the monas
teries in Salamanca and in Alba, but before the nuns of
Salamanca were settled in a house of their own, I was sent
by the father-general, Fra Pedro Fernandez, then apostolic
commissary, to the monastery of the Incarnation in Avila for
three years, and that he, seeing the distressed state of the
house in Salamanca, sent me back to remove the nuns into
a house of their own.2 I was in prayer there one day when
our Lord commanded me to go and make a foundation in
Segovia. It seemed to me an impossibility, because I could
not go unless I was ordered, and I had heard from the father-
master, Fra Pedro Fernandez, the apostolic commissary, that
he did not wish me to make any more foundations. I saw
at the same time that, the three years I had to stay in the
Incarnation not being ended, he had good reasons for not
desiring any. While I was thinking of this our Lord bade me
speak to him about it, for he would give his consent.
2. I was in Salamanca at the time, and wrote to the
commissary saying that he was aware the most reverend the
father-general had commanded me never to fail to make
foundations wherever an opportunity occurred ; that the
bishop3 and city of Segovia had consented to admit a monas-
1 Ch. xix. § 6. 2 Ib. § 7.
3 Don Diego de Covarrubias y Leyva (Ribera, iii. 2X He was born
in Toledo, July 25, 1512; studied canon law in Salamanca under the
celebrated Navarre, whom he speaks of as preceptor meus ornatissimits,
Martinus Aspilctteta (Relect. in C. Peccatum, par. 2, § 9) ; and in 1543
was made professor there of canon law himself; bishop successively
of Ciudad Rodrigo, of Segovia, and of Cuenca, when Don Caspar de
Quiroga, the grand inquisitor, was made archbishop of Toledo. The
chronicler says he died in Madrid when still bishop of Segovia, Sep
tember 27, 1577; the Bollandists on the 26th (n. 768). Fra Michael a
S. Joseph, in his Bibl. Critic, voce "Didacus Cov.," says he died in
Segovia October 1, being then sixty-five years of age. He was a man
of great learning and greater piety. Nine years after his death his
body was found not only incorrupt but fragrant (Reforma de los
Descalqos, lib. iv. ch. xxiv. § 7).
532 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXI.
tery of our order, which I would found if he would order
me; that I was informing him of the fact for the satisfaction
of my conscience, and whatever orders he might give I should
be safe and contented. These, I believe, were the words 1
used, or nearly so, adding that I thought it was for the service
of God. It was plainly the will of His Majesty, for he com
manded me at once to make the foundation, and gave his per
mission, at which I was much astonished, remembering what I
had heard him say on the subject. From Salamanca I found
means to have a house hired for us,1 for since the foundations
in Toledo and Valladolid were made I had felt it was better,
for many reasons, to take possession first, and then look for a
house of our own. My chief reason was, that I had no money
wherewith to buy a house ; that, the monastery once founded,
our Lord would provide one forthwith; and that a better site
might be then selected.
3. There lived there a lady, Dona Ana de Jimena,2 who
had been the wife of the heir to an entailed estate. She had
visited me once in Avila, and was a very great servant of
God. Her vocation had always been that of a nun. Ac
cordingly, when the monastery was established, she came in
with a daughter of hers, who had led a most pious life ;
and for the trouble she had had as wife and widow our
Lord repaid her twofold in religion. The mother and daughter
had always lived most devoutly in the service of God. This
saintly lady took the house, and whatever she saw we needed,
whether for the church or for ourselves, that she provided,
and I had but little trouble in the matter. But, that there
might be no foundation made without some trouble I was
always unwell during the six months I was there ; besides,
I had gone thither inwardly ill at ease, for my soul was in
very great dryness and darkness ; I had a fever upon me, and
loathed my food, with many other bodily ailments, which
for three months oppressed me sorely.3
1 Dona Ana de Jimena, widow of Francisco Barros de Bracamonte,
and her cousin Don Andres de Jimena, hired the house (Reforma de los
Descalqos, lib. iii. ch. xxvii. § 2).
2 See Relation, iv. § 1.
3 The vSaint took with her from Salamanca the nuns Maria of
Jesus and Isabel of Jesus, a sister of Andres de Jimena, both natives
of Segovia. She passed through Alba, where the duchess of Alba
entertained her. It is this visit she speaks of in the Inner Fortress,
CH. XXI.] SEGOVIA. 533
4. On the feast of S. Joseph the Most Holy Sacrament
was reserved, and, though I had the sanction both of the
bishop and of the city, I would not enter but in secret the
night before.1 It was a long time now since the sanction
had been given, and, as I was in the Incarnation, having a
superior other than the most reverend the father-general,
I had not been able to make the foundation. The -bishop's
permission, who was there2 when the city asked it of him,
was a verbal one, given to a nobleman, Andres de Jimena,
who asked for it on our behalf. He did not take the trouble
to have it in writing, nor did I think it was of any importance
myself. I made a mistake, for the vicar-general, when he
heard that a monastery had been founded, came at once in
great wrath, refused to allow mass to be said any more, and
sought to imprison him who had said it, a barefooted friar3
who had come with the father Julian of Avila, and another
servant of God who had travelled with us, Antonio Gaytan.
5. This was a nobleman from Alba,4 who had once been
very worldly, but whom cur Lord had called some years since.
He so trampled on the world that his whole soul was intent
only on serving our Lord more and more. I have said who
he was because I shall have to speak of him again in giving
an account of the other foundations, for he has helped me
much, and undertaken great labours for me: if I were to
speak of his goodness I should not finish so soon. What was
of most service to us was his mortification, for even among
the servants who were with us there was not one who served
vi. 4, § 6. From Alba de Tormes she took with her Guiomar of Jesus,
and from Avila her cousin Isabel of S. Paul, who returned with the
Saint when the foundation had been completed (Ribera, iii. 2).
1 The Saint and her companions were lodged this night in the
house of Dona Ana de Jimena (Reforma, lib. iii. ch. xxvii.. § 3).
2 The bishop was absent when the Saint arrived in Segovia, being
detained in Madrid on business as president of Castile (Reforma, lib. iii.
ch. xxvii. § 3).
8 This was none other than S. John of the Cross who had said
the mass (Reforma, lib. iii. ch. xxvii. § 3). Julian of Avila hid himself
under the staircase (Ribera, iii. 2).
* He seems to have left Segovia, when the Saint had obtained a
house, for Salamanca, to which place the Saint sent him a letter, No.
47, but 57 vol. ii. ed. Doblado. He had first gone to Pastrana to
escort the nuns from that house to Segovia, whither they came in the
holy week of this year, 1574. See ch. xvii. § 15.
534 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXI.
us in our necessities as he did. He is a man of much prayer,
and God has given him such graces that what is annoying
to others he accepts with joy and makes light of; all the
troubles he had in these foundations he regarded as nothing,
whereby it seems clear that God called him and Father Julian
of Avila to the work; Father Julian, however, has been with
me ever since the first monastery was founded. Our Lord
must have been pleased, for the sake of such companions, to
prosper all my undertakings. Their conversation on the jour
ney was about God, for the instruction of those who travelled
with us and who met us on the road, and thus did they serve
His Majesty in every way.
6. It is only right, my daughters, that those of you
who shall read the story of these foundations should know
how much you owe them, that, as they took so much pains,
having no interest of their own in the matter, to obtain for
you the blessings you possess of living in these monasteries,
you may commend them to our Lord, so that they may derive
some advantage from your prayers ; for if you knew the hard
ships they endured night and day, and how toilsome were
the journeys they made, you would most willingly do so.
7. The vicar-general would not quit the church without
leaving a constable at the door, I know not for what purpose.
It helped to frighten a little those who were there : as for
myself, I never cared much what might happen after taking
possession ; all my fear is before. I sent for certain persons,
relatives of one of the sisters1 who was wLh me, chief people
in the place, to speak to the vicar-general and tell him that
I had had the sanction of the bishop. He knew that well
enough, so he said la'.er; what he wanted was to have been
told of it beforehand ; that, I believe, would have been much
worse for us. At last they settled with him that he was to
leave us in possession of the monastery, but he Avould not let
us have the Most Holy Sacrament.
8. That gave us no concern ; we remained there some
months till we bought a house,2 and with it, too, many law
suits. We Had had one already with the Franciscan friars
for another which we bought close by ; about another house
we had to go to law with the friars cf the order for the Ransom
1 This was Isabel of Jesus (Reforma, lib. iii. ch. xxvii. § 3).
2 They bought it from Diego Porraz (De la Fuente*).
CI-I. XXI.] SEGOVIA. 535
of Captives, and with the chapter, which had a rent-charge
on it. O Jesus, what it is to have to contend against many
minds! When I thought everything was settled we had to
begin again ; it was not enough to give them what they asked
for — some other inconvenience came at once to light; it
seems nothing when I speak of it, but it was much to endure.
9. A nephew of the bishop1 did all he could for us — he
was prior and canon of the church ; so also did the licentiate
Herrera, a very great servant of God. At last, when we
had paid money enough, everything was settled. Our law
suit with the friars of the order of Ransom remained, and it
was necessary for us to go with the utmost secrecy to our
house. When they saw us in possession, which was a day
or two before Michaelmas, they thought it better to compro
mise the matter for a sum of money. The greatest anxiety
which these troubles occasioned me was that it wanted only
seven or eight days to complete my three years in the Incar
nation.2
10. It pleased our Lord that everything should be so
1 This was Don Juan de Orosco y Covarrubias de Leyva, after
wards bishop of Guadix. Going from the episcopal palace to the
cathedral on the day S. Teresa took possession, he saw the cross over
the door of the house, and when he heard it was a Carmelite monas
tery went in, and, after praying awhile, asked permission to say mass.
It was granted, and after mass he asked to see the Saint; she came
with the sister Isabel of S. Dominic, and before he could make any
offer of his services she told him that God had brought him to the
house, and that he was bound to help her, for she was a cousin
of his aunt Dona Maria de Tapia. Don Juan helped the monastery
to the utmost of his power, heard the confession of the sisters, and
for some time was himself their only chaplain. The vicar-general
did not spare even the nephew of the bishop when he found fault
with S. Teresa, and Ribcra (iii. 2) says he inveighed bitterly against
him for saying mass in t1-.e chapel. Don Juan de Orosco narrates the
facts himself in a letter dated Guadix, 20th May, 16C6, and addressed
to the Father Alonso de Jesus Maria, general of the Barefooted
Carmelites. The letter is published by Don Vicente de la Fuente,
vol. ii. p. 386.
2 The three years ended October 6, 1574, and the nuns, who when
she was sent to rule over them threatened to become rebellious, were
now so sorry to lose her that they re-elected her. The election,
however, was not unanimous, and the Saint was unwilling to accept
it. The provincial then intervened, and the Saint returned to h-^r
own monastery, where she was elected prioress (Re forma de / ..
Descalgos, lib. iii. ch. xxxi. § 4).
536 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXII.
well settled as to leave nothing in dispute, and two or three
days afterwards I went to the Incarnation. Blessed for ever
be His name who has been always so good to me, and let
all creatures praise Him! Amen.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE MONASTERY OF THE GLORIOUS S. JOSEPH
DEL SALVADOR IN VEAS, ON THE FEAST OF S. MATHIAS, 1575.
1. AT the time at which I have been speaking, when they
sent me from the Incarnation to Salamanca, there came to me,
when I wras in the latter place, a messenger from the town
of Veas with letters from a lady there, the parish priest, and
other persons, all asking me to go thither and found a monas
tery, for they had a house ready, so that nothing was wanting
but my going thither to make the foundation.1
2. I made inquiries of the messenger. He told me great
things of the country, and justly so, for it is very pleasant,
and the climate is good. But when I considered the many
leagues that were between that place and this I thought it
a folly, especially as I must have an order from the apostolic
commissary, who disliked, or at least did not like, my making
any more foundations. I wished, therefore, to say in reply
that I could not, without telling him anything further. After
wards it struck me that, as the commissary was then in Sala
manca, it would not be right to send such an answer without
having his opinion, because of the commandment I had re
ceived from the most reverend our father-general, not to
omit making a foundation if occasion offered.
3. When he saw the letters he sent me word that he
did not think it right to give pain to the writers ; that he was
edified by their devotion ; that I was to write to them and say
that as soon as they should have obtained the permission of
the order2 provision would be made for the foundation. He
added, also, that I need not trouble myself — permission would
not be given, for he had heard of the knights by other ways,
1 This was in 1573 (Re forma de los Descalqos, lib. iii. ch. xxxii. § 11).
" Veas was subject to the jurisdiction of a military order, that of
the knights of S. James; see below, § 13.
SEVENTEENTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del
1. Facade of the Carmelite monastery, formerly mansion of Beatrix de
Veamonte y Na,varre. On the left of the sketch, the covered passages leading into
the church. Burial of a Seminarist. 2. Carmelite church, formerly the parish church.
3. General view of the Carmelite monastery, the church and the Friars' Hospice.
4. Impression of seal of Jerome Gratian, first. Provincial of the Reformed rule,
placed upon the Act of Foundation of the convent at Soria. 5. Book containing
the titles of the monastery's foundation. 6. Caterina of Christ, born Balmaceda,
first prioress of this monastery. 7. Entrance to the episcopal palace at Osma,
where St. Teresa was hospitably received on her return from Soria. 8. lago de
THE: HOLY TRINITY AT SORIA.
XXIII.
Bruges. P Ra'oux So
Yepes, Hieronynmite, later bishop of Tarazona. There is a slight error in the en
graving-; the habit and the cloak of the Hieronymites of Spain are of the same colour.
9. Hospice of Discalced Carmelites, adjoining the church, and opposite the Carmelite
monastery. 10. Palafox, Bishop of Osma, "who commentated St Teresa's letters
11. Monastery of Discalced Carmelites at Barcelona, where Caterina of Christ died.
12. Arms of the Balmaceda family. 13. Arms of Beatrix de Veamonte y Navarre.
14. Arms of the city of Barcelona. 15. Arms of the city of Soria. (See Appendix,
note 24.)
CH. XXII.] VEAS. 537
and people had not been able for many years to obtain their
consent; but I was to send a friendly answer. I think of this
sometimes, how, when our Lord wills anything, though we
will it not, it happens without our knowledge that we become
the means of doing it; so it was now with the father doctor,
Fra Pedro Fernandez, the commissary j1 accordingly, when the
permission was obtained he could not withhold his own, and
the house was founded in that way.
IHS.
4. The monastery of the blessed S. Joseph in the town
of Veas was founded on S. Mathias's day, in the year 1575.
This was the way it began, to the honour and glory of God.
In the town dwelt Sancho Rodriguez de Sandoval, a nobleman
of ancient descent and wealthy. He was married to a lady
whose name is Dona Catalina Godinez. Among the children
whom our Lord gave them are two daughters — the eldest,
Dona Catalina Godinez ;2 the younger, Dona Maria de Sando
val ; they are the founders of the monastery. The elder was
fourteen years of age when our Lord called her unto His serv
ice. Until then she was very far from giving up the world : on
the contrary, she thought so much of herself that she looked
upon every offer of marriage which her father brought to
her as not fitting for her.
1 S. Pius V., applied to once more by Philip II., undertook the
reform of the Carmelites, and ordered all the friars in Andalusia
to submit to the visitation of the ordinary, who was to be assisted
by the Dominicans in all those places where Dominicans had a
monastery. The Carmelites resisted and made loud outcries, so
that the king was compelled to beg the Pope to recall the order
and apply another remedy. Thereupon his Holiness determined
that the Carmelites should be visited by Dominicans, and appointed
as his delegate and visitor for the province of Castille Fra Pedro
Fernandez, prior of Talavera de la Reina; and for the province of
Andalusia, Fra Francesco de Vargas, prior of S. Paul's, Cordova.
The bulls of these visitors have been lost, but it is believed that
their authority was given them before May, 1570; they were made
visitors for four years (Reforma de los Descalqos, lib. ii. ch. xxxviii.
§ 4). Fra Antonio of S. Joseph, in a note on Lett. 52, Lett. 9 vol.
ii. ed. Doblado, says that the original bulls were preserved in the
house of the Carmelite nuns in Toledo, and that Fra Pedro Fernandez
was created by S. Pius V. visitor of the order August 20, 1569, and
was to continue to discharge the duties of his office for four years.
1 Born in 1534 (Reforma de los Descalqos, lib. iii. ch. xxxii. § 2).
538 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXII.
5. One day, in an inner room beyond that in which
her father was, who had not yet risen, she happened to read
on a crucify that was there the title on the upper part of
the cross, when in a moment, as she was reading it, our Lord
changed her heart. She had been thinking of an offer of mar
riage made to her, which wras an exceedingly good one, and
saying to herself, "How little satisfies my father provided
J marry an eldest son! while I intend that my family shall
have i:s beginning in me." She had no wish to be married,
for she thought it a meanness to be subject to any one, neither
did she know whence her pride arose. Our Lord knew how
to cure it, blessed be His compassion!
6. Accordingly, while she was reading the title a light
seemed to have entered her soul, as the sun enters into a dark
room, whereby she saw the truLh. In that light she fixed her
eyes on our Lord nailed to the cross shedding His blood, and
thought of the ill-treatment He received and of His great
humility, and then how differently she was demeaning her
self in her pride. She must have spent some time thus, for
our Lord threw her into a trance,1 wherein His Majesty
made her see deeply into her own wretchedness and to wish
that everybody saw into it. He filled her with so great a
desire of suffering fur God that she wished she could undergo
all the torments of the martyrs, giving her at the same time
so earnest a longing for humiliation in her humility, with a
loathing of self, that, if it had not been an offence against
God, she could have wished herself one of the most abandoned
of women, in order that everybody might regard her with
loathing; accordingly, she began to hate herself, having most
earnest desires for penance, which she afterwards carried
into act. She made a vow of chastity and poverty on the
spot, and wished so much' to be subject to others that she
would have been glad if they had taken her there to be a slave
in the country of the Moors.
7. All these virtues have been so lasting that it is plain
they were a supernatural gift of our Lord, as will appear later,
in order that all may praise Him. Blessed for ever and ever
be Thou, O my God, who in a moment undoest a soul and
then Greatest it anew! What does it mean, O Lord? I should
1 Our Lord showed her in a vision her own heart, full of cor
ruption and loathsome worms (Reforma de los Descalqos, lib. iii. ch.
xxxii. § 2).
CH. XXII.] VEAS. 539
like now to repeat the question of the apostles, who when
Thou hadst healed the blind man asked if his parents had
sinned.1 I ask, Who deserved so sovereign a grace? It was
not she, for the thoughts from which Thou didst withdraw
her, when Thou gavest her that grace, are what I have de
scribed. O Lord, how high are Thy judgments ! Thou
knowest what Thou doest, and I do not know what I am
saying, for Thy works and Thy judgments are beyond all
comprehension. Glory be unto Thee for ever, who canst do
still greater things ; for if it were not so what would become
of me? But her mother must have had some share in this,
for, as she was a most devout Christian, it is possible that
Thou, full of compassion, must in Thy goodness have granted
her to see in this life so great a virtue in her daughters. I
think sometimes that Thou bestowest like graces on those who
love Thee, and art so merciful unto them as to give them chil
dren in whom they shall serve Thee.
8. While she was thus occupied she heard so loud a
noise2 overhead in the room that she thought the whole place
must be tumbling down. The sounds seemed to descend to
the ground in a corner of the room, and to come towards her
in the spot where she was standing. She heard also loud
roaring cries, which lasted for some time : so strange were
they that her father, who, as I have just said, had not yet
risen, was greatly alarmed and began to quake with fear, and
then, like a man beside himself, having put on his dressing-
gown, rushed into her room sword in hand, and, pale with ter
ror, asked her what the noise came from. She answered him
that she had seen nothing. He looked into another room be
yond and seeing nothing told her to go to her mother, whom he
asked not to leave her daughter alone, telling her what he had
heard.
9. This shows plainly enough what Satan must feel when
he sees a soul which he thinks his own rescued from his
hands. As he hates our welfare so much, I am not surprised
that when he beholds our merciful Lord bestowing so many
graces at once he should be alarmed, and show his anger
so plainly, especially if he sees that, through the wealth of
grace treasured up in that soul, he is to lose others he looked
1 S. John ix. 2.
2 The chronicler says the noise was as the bellowing of bulls
(Re forma, lib. iii. ch. xxxii. § 2).
540 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXII.
on as his own. I am persuaded myself that our Lord never
grants a grace so great without communicating it also to
other persons besides. She never spoke of this to anybody,
but she had a very strong desire to enter religion, and fre
quently asked her parents for their consent; they would never
give it.
10. At the end of three years, during which she had often
asked their consent, seeing that they would never give way,
she dressed herself very simply on the feast of S. Joseph.1
She told her mother, and her mother only, whose consent
to her becoming a nun could be more easily had, but she
would not venture to tell her father, and so went to church
trusting that, once seen in public in that dress, she might not
be made to change; and so it came to pass. During those
three years she used to set aside certain hours for prayer, and
to mortify herself in every way she could, as our Lord taught
her. She would go into the courtyard, moisten her face,
and then expose it to the sun, in order that, being thereby
disfigured, she might escape from the offers of marriage with
which she was harassed still.
11. She was unwilling to command others, but, as she
had the charge of her father's household, she must give orders
to the women therein, for she could not help it: that done,
she would wait till they were asleep, and then go and kiss
their feet, distressed at being waited on by .those who were
better than herself. As she was occupied all day wLh her
father and mother, she spent the whole night, when she might
have been asleep, in prayer, so that very often she hardly
slept at all ; which seems impossible, were it not that it was
all supernatural. Her penances and disciplines were many, for
she had no director, and so told nobody cf them. Among other
things she did was this : she once wore her father's coat of
mail next her flesh during the whole of Lent. She would
reJre for prayer into a lonely place, where the devil used to
mock her in strange ways. Very often she began to pray at
ten o'clock at night, and did not rise therefrom till it was day.
12. She passed nearly four years in these practices, when
our Lord — for she had to render Him other and higher serv
ices — began to send her most grievous and painful sicknesses
such as a continual fever, with dropsy and disease of the
heart. He sent her also a cancer in the breast, which was
1 In the year 1551 (Reforma dc los Descales, § 6).
CH. XXII.] VEAS. 541
cut out. In short, her illnesses lasted about seventeen years,
and she was scarcely ever well. After five years, during which
God was thus merciful to her, her father died j1 and her sister,
being fourteen years old,2 though very fond of show, dressed
herself simply a year after her sister made the change, and
began also to give herself unto prayer, the mother encouraging
them both in their good desires and practices, and allowing
them to occupy themselves in an admirable work, but foreign
to their condition, that of teaching little girls to work and
read; not for any payment, but simply for the opportunity
hereby had of teaching them their catechism and their prayers.
A great good was wrought, for many went to them, and the
good habits in which they were thus trained when quite
young may be traced in them at this day. This did not last
long, for the devil, vexed to see so much good done, persuaded
the parents that it was mean in them to allow their daughters
to be taught for nothing.3 This, together with illnesses now
beginning, made them give up that work.
13. Five years aLer the father's death the mother- also
Dona Catalina, seeing that while her father lived it was impos
sible for her to enter religion, prayed to God for eitl.cr the means of
entering or the removal of her strong desires to leave the world.
She then heard a voice saying to her, "Do not distress thyself; thy
father will die within two or three weeks. Bid him be ready." She
was very unwilling to do this, but as the time was passing away she
said to her father, in a pleasant way, "You are in better health,
I think, than you have ever been." Don Sancho replied, "Well,
I never was better in all my lire." Whereupon the daughter said,
"Then it is a sign that death is near, and remember that in our family
we always die in August. You should put everything in order."
Don Sancho was so much struck by what his child said that he set
his affairs in order at once, made his preparations for death, and on
the third day God took him to Himself (Reforma, lib. iii. ch. xxxii.
§ 8). It was in August, 1555.
2 It was in the year 1552 (Reforma, ibid. § 8).
8 This sarcasm of the Saint is expressive, and hits off the stupidity
of Spaniards in her day. It is likely enough that there was no school
there for little girls. Two young ladies of noble birth give them
selves up out of charity to the gratuitous education of children;
but people calling themselves gentlemen find that their daughters
must not mix with the children of the poor, nor be educated for
nothing, as they were. They would rather have them ignorant.
That the country is behindhand has been laid to the charge of the
religious orders. Would it not have been better to lay the fault at
the door of vanity and easygoingness, the natural vices of the
country? (De la Fuente.)
542 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXII.
died,1 and Dona Catalina, as her vocation had always been that
of a nun — only she could not obtain her father's consent —
wished to become one at once. Her kindred advised her,
as there was no monastery in Veas, that, having means suffi
cient for a foundation, the sisters should found a monastery
in their own place, which would be a greater service to our
Lord. As the place belonged to a commandery of the knights
of S. James, a license from the council of the orders was
necessary, and so she began to make efforts to obtain it. It
was so difficult to get that four years went by in much labour
and expense, and nothing was done till a petition was drawn
up and presented to the king. The difficulty being so great,
it came to pass that her kindred told her it was folly to persist,
and would have her give up her plan ; moreover, as she was
almost always in her bed, suffering so much, as I said before,
they said that into no monastery could she be received as
a nun.
14. Her answer was, that if within a month our Lord
gave her again her health it would be a sign to them that
He was pleased with her plan, and she would herself go to
court to bring it about.2 When she said this she had been
for six months without leaving her bed, and for eight months
had been scarcely able to move herself in it. At this time she
had been for eight years in a continual fever, with consump
tion and dropsy ; she was also wasted by an inflammation of
the liver, which was so violent that the burning heat of it
was felt through the bedclothes, and singed her shifts. It
seems incredible, but I heard so myself from the physician of
whom I made inquiries about the illnesses she then had, and
at which he was greatly amazed. She had also rheumatic
gout and sciatica.
15. On the vigil of S. Sebastian, which was a Saturday,3
1 In 1560, about two years before the Saint founded her first
monastery in Avila.
2 vShe made this answer December 19, 1571, according to Yepcs,
ii. 27; but Ribera, iii. 3, says it was on the 29th December, having
in the previous August received from our Lord a promise that her
health would be restored to her in time to go to Madrid in Lent.
as the Saint tells us below (§ 17).
3 The vigil of S. Sebastian fell on a Saturday in 1572. But the
chronicler of the order says the miracle was wrought in 1557.
(Reforma, lib. iii. ch. xxxii. § ii.) Tn that year the vigil was on a
Tuesday.
CH. XXII.] VEAS. 543
our Lord restored her to health so completely that she could
not hide the fact, that the miracle might not become known.
Her account is that at the moment our Lord was about to
heal her she had an inward quaking, which made her sister
think she was dying; she herself was conscious of some very
great change in her body, and of another in her soul ; she felt
so well. She had now a greater joy in her health, because it
enabled her to prosecute the affair of the monastery, than she
had had in suffering, for from the very first when God called
her she so hated herself that she did not regard her sufferings.
She says that her desire to suffer was so strong that she used
to pray God with her whole heart to try her in all manner of
suffering.
16. His Majesty did not fail to fulfil her desire, for in
eight years she was bled more than five hundred times, and
cupped so often besides that the marks were still to be seen
in her flesh. Sometimes salt was applied, because one of the
physicians said it was good for drawing out the poisonous
humours which caused the pain in her side : this she underwent
more than twenty times. What is more wonderful still is
this: — whenever the physician told her that this remedy was
to be had recourse to, she used to long for the coming of the
time when it was to be used, without any fear whatever, and
she herself encouraged the prrysicians when they cauterised
the cancer, which was often done, and on other occasions
when such violent means were used. She says that what
made her wish for suffering was the desire to know if those
longings she had to be a martyr were real.
17. When she found herself suddenly well she spoke to
her confessor and physician about removing into another place,
that they might be able to say that a change of residence had
done it. They refused : so far from it, the physicians pub
lished it abroad, for they looked on her state as in
curable, because the blood that issued from her mouth was so
corrupt that they said it was the lungs themselves. She con
tinued three days in bed, and would not venture to leave it,
lest her restoration to health should become known ; but, as
she could not hide it any more than she was able to hide her
sickness, it was of little service to her. She told me that,
one day in the month of August previously, she begged our
Lord either to take from her the great desire she had to be
a nun and found a monastery, or to furnish her with the
544 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXII.
means of accomplishing that desire, and, if the latter were
the divine will, that she was completely assured that she
would be well in time to go to the court in Lent for the
license.
18. She says too that, though her ailments were at that
time much more grievous to bear, she never ceased to hope
that our Lord would grant her that grace. And, though she
received the Sacrament of the last anointing twice — once in
such imminent peril that the physician said there was not time
enough to send for the Holy Oil, and that she would be dead
before it could be brought to her — she never abandoned her
trust in our Lord, being certain that she was to die a nun.
I do not mean that she was anointed twice between August
and the feast of S. Sebastian — it was before that time. When
her brothers and kindred saw the goodness of cur Lord to her,
and the miracle lie wrought in the sudden restoration of her
health, they would not venture to hinder her journey, though
they regarded it as a folly. She was three months in Madrid,
and her request was in the end refused. She then presented
her petition to the king, who, when he saw it related to the
barefooted nuns of Carmel, ordered it to be granted forthwith.
19. When the monastery came to be founded it was
plain she had treated the matter with God, for the superiors,
though so far away, and the revenue so scanty, were ready
to accept it. What His Majesty wills must be done without
fail. Accordingly the nuns arrived in the beginning of Lent,
1575 ; the people came forth in procession to receive them with
solemn rejoicings. There was great joy everywhere: even
the little children showed it to be a work pleasing to our
Lord. The monastery, under the invocation of S. Joseph
of the Redeemer, was founded in Lent on the feast of S.
Mathias.1
'On Thursday after the first Sunday in Lent. The poverty of this
house was so great that some years afterwards the superiors of the
order resolved to break it up, and in order to make the dispersion
of the nuns the more easy to the other houses, issued an order, in
the expectation that the elder nuns would die, that no more novices
should be admitted. Thus it subsisted for many years, but there was
no death among the nuns. The superiors at last recalled the order
about novices, and on the very day that recall was known in the
monastery postulants came in, and the old nuns began to die. (Fra
Anton of S. Joseph, notes on fragment 71, vol. iv. ed. Doblado, num
bered 81 among the letters by Don Vicente ) The nuns were dispersed
CH. XXII.] VEAS. 545
20. On the same day the two sisters, to their great joy,
received the habit.1 The health of Dona Catalina improved
still. Her humility, obedience, and desire to be thought noth
ing of show plainly how real were her good desires for the
service of our Lord. Unto Him be glory for ever and ever!
21. The sister told me, among other things, that, about
twenty years before, she went to rest one night anxious
to find the most perfect order in the world, that she might
become a nun in it; and that, as she thinks, she began to
dream she was walking on a very steep and narrow path in
the utmost danger of falling down a precipice, when she saw a
barefooted friar, who said to her, "Sister, ccme wi.h me."
On seeing Fra Juan de la Miseria,2 a lay brother of the order,
who came to Veas when I was there, she said that he seemed
to be the very person she had seen. The friar took her to a
house wherein were a great many nuns, but there was no
light in it beyond that given by the lighted candles which
the nuns carried in their hands. She asked them to tell her
what order it was ; all kept silence, and, lifting up their veils,
showed countenances cheerful and smiling. She assures me
that she then saw the faces of the very sisters she has seen
here, and that the prioress took her by the hand and said to
her, "Child, I want you here," and showed her the constitu
tions and the rules. When she awoke frcm her dream she
was very joyous, for it seemed to her that she had been in
heaven, and wrote down what she remembered of the rules.
For a long time she said nothing cf this to her confessor or
to anybody else, and nobody could tell her what order that
was.
22. A father of the Society came to the place who knew
her wishes; she showed him the paper, saying that if she
in the civil wars, and the monastery exists no longer. The church
is now parochial, and some of the nuns were living in 1861, in the
monastery of Jaen (De la Fuente').
Dona Catalina was in religion Catherine of Jesus, and her sister
Maria of Jesus; both made their profession September 11, 1576
(De la Fuente}. The eldest wished to be a lay sister, and it required
the authority of S. Teresa to make her a choir nv.n (§ 22 below).
She was afterwards prioress of the house, dying in 1536. The younger
sister was prioress of Cordova when Ribera was writing the life of
the Saint (Ribera, iii. 3).
' See ch. xvii. § 5, note 3.
546 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS, [CH. XXII.
could find that order she should be happy, for she would enter
it at once. The father knew our monasteries, and so he told
her it was the rule of the order of our Lady of Carmel ; he
did not, however, say this clearly in as many words so as to
make her understand, but only that it was the rule of the
monasteries I was founding; and thus it came about that she
sent me a messenger, as I said before.1 When my answer
was received she was so ill that her confessor told her she
must be quiet, for if .she were in the monastery they would
send her away; it was therefore very unlikely they would
receive her in her present state. She was very much dis
tressed at this, and, turning to our Lord in great earnestness,
said, "O my Lord and my God, I know by faith that Thou
canst do all things ; then, O life of my soul, either take away
from me these desires or give to me the means of carrying
them into effect."
23. This she said in great truthfulness, beseeching our
Lady, by the sorrow she felt when she looked on our Lord
dead in her arms, to intercede for her. She heard a voice
within herself saying, "Believe and hope: I am almighty:
thou shalt have thy health ; for to Him who is able to hinder
thee from dying of so many diseases, all of them in themselves
deadly, it is more easy to take them away." These words,
she says, gave her such strength and confidence that she
could not doubt of the fulfilment of her desire, though her
sufferings became much more grievous until our Lord
restored her to health, as I have already said. These things
certainly seem incredible, and, if I had not learnt them of
her physician, of those of her household, and others, I should
not have been disinclined to think — for I am so wicked —
that there was some exaggeration in the story.
24. Although delicate, her health is now such that
she can keep the rule, and her constitution is good; she is
exceedingly cheerful, and in every way, as I said before, so
humble that we all praise our Lord for it. The two sisters
gave all they possessed to the order without any conditions
whatever, and if they should not be received as nuns they
required no compensation. Her detachment from kindred
and her native place is great, and she has even a strong
desire to go far away, and is very importunate on this point
1 See § 1, above.
CH. XXIII. j SEVILLE. 542
with her superiors; yet so great is her obedience that she
abides there in a certain contentment. It was under
obedience that she received the veil, for there was no per
suading her to be a choir nun — she would be a lay sister —
till I wrote to her, giving her many reasons, and finding fault
with her for having a will of her own instead of yielding
to the father provincial. I told her that this was not the
way- to increase her merit, with much beside, treating her
somewhat sharply. But it is her greatest joy to be thus
spoken to, and in this way she was won over very much against
her will. I know of nothing about this soul that is not
pleasing unto God, and she is so to all. May it please His
Majesty to protect her with His arm, and increase her good
ness, and the grace He has given her, to His own further
service and honour! Amen.1
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE MONASTERY OF THE GLORIOUS S. JOSEPH
OF CARMEL IN THE CITY OF SEVILLE THE FIRST MASS SAID ON
THE FEAST OF THE MOST HOLY TRINITY, 1576.
1. WHEN' I was staying in the town of Veas,2 waiting
for the permission of the council of the orders for the founda-
1 The final arrangements for the foundations in Veas were made
when the Saint was prioress of her own house in Avila; the three
years of her priorate in her old house, the monastery of the Incarna
tion, being ended October 6th, 1574. She was in the monastery of
Valladolid at Christmas, but returned to Avila after visiting her sisters
in Medina del Campo early in the year 1575. (See below, ch. xxvii. § 5.)
Then, leaving Avila for Veas, she went through Toledo, and took with
her from the house there Mary of S. Joseph and Elizabeth of S Fran
cis, afterwards prioress in Lisbon and Seville. She also sent for Anne
of Jesus from Salamanca. From Toledo she went to Malagon, and
from that monastery took with her Mary of the Visitation, Isabel
of S. Jerome, Leonor of S. Gabriel, and Beatrix of S. Michael. Anne
of Jesus was made prioress, and the sub-prioress was Mary of the
Visitation (Ribera, iii. 3; Yepes, ii. 27: Re forma de los Descalqos, lib. iii.
ch. xxxiii. § 1).
2 When the Saint was staying here she received letters from Don
Alvaro de Mendoza, bishop of Avila, and from the nuns there, inform
ing her that the officers of the Inquisition were searching for the
"Life," written by herself (see Relation, vii. §§ 8. 16)
548 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIII.
tion in Caravaca, there came to see me a father of our order,
a barefooted friar, by name the master Fra Jerome of the
Mother of God Gratian,1 who, living in Alcala a few years
before, had taken our habit. He was a man of great learning,
understanding, and modesty, united with great goodness
throughout his life, and our Lady seems to have chosen him
for the furtherance of this order under the primitive rule
when he was in Alcala, very far from taking our habit,
though not from being a religious, for, though his parents
had other views about him because of the king's favour and his
great abilities, he was far otherwise minded himself.
2. From the time he began his studies his father wished
him to apply himself to the study of the laws ; he, though
very young, felt so much on the subject that he prevailed
on his father by dint of tears, to let him learn theology.
When he had taken his doctor's degree he wished to enter the
Society of Jesus,2 and was accepted, but, for some reason
or other, was required to wait a few days. He told me that
all his worldly ease was a torture to him, for he did not
think of the right road to heaven ; and he always kept certain
hours of prayer, and was most recollected and modest.
3. At this time a great friend of his, Fra Juan of Jesus,3
1 He came to Veas in April, 1575 (see Relation, vi. § 1). Jerome
Gratian was born in Valladolid June 6th, 1545. His father was Diego
Gratian de Alderete, secretary to Charles V. and to Philip II., and his
mother was Juana de Antisco, daughter of the Polish ambassador.
He was sent to the Jesuits in Madrid, where he laid the foundations
of his learning, and in 1560 was sent to the university of Alcala de
Henares, where in 1564 he took the degree of doctor in theology.
In 1569 he was ordained priest (Reforma, lib. iii. ch. xx. § 4, et seq.).
2 Fra Gratian's character was more Jesuit than Carmelite. His
great love of preaching and of the confessional, his learning, the
peculiar bent of his mind, and other gifts adapted for the active
life, seem to belong rather to the Jesuits than to the religious whose
life is r.lmost wholly contemplative. Nevertheless the Reform of
Carmel required an active, intelligent, and quick man, and S. Teresa
found him in the person of Fra Gratian. On the other hand, S.
Teresa, accustomed to the direction of Jesuits, found in her order
a man with their gifts, and made a vow of obedience to him. When
the reform was made and S. Teresa dead, Fra Gratian seemed out
of his place, and was expelled from the order. He wished then to
become a Jesuit, but it was not thought prudent to admit him (De la
Fucnte).
3 Fra Juan of Jesus was born in the town of Sanahuja, in the
diocese of Urgel, at the foot of the Pyrenees, in Catalonia. His father
CH. XXIII.] SEVILLE. 549
also a doctor, became a friar of our order in the monastery
of Pastrana. I knew not if it was a letter he wrote to him
on the greatness and antiquity of our order, or something
else, that first moved him; for Gratian took great pleasure
in learning everything about the order and in consulting
ancient authors thereupon, and frequently — so he says — had
scruples about neglecting his other studies, not being able
to give up this, spending therein even his hours of recreation.
Oh, the wisdom and power of God! how helpless we are
when we would thwart His will ! Our Lord saw how neces
sary for the work he had begun was a man like this. Often
do I praise Him for being so gracious unto us, for if I had
anxiously prayed to His Majesty for a person able to arrange
everything for our order when it began I could not have
asked for such a one as His Majesty has given us. May He
be blessed for ever !
4. He was very far from thinking of taking our habit when
he was asked to go to Pastrana to make arrangements with the
prioress of the monastery of our order, not then removed
thence,1 about the reception of a nun. Oh, the ways of His
divine Majesty! If he had made up his mind to leave Alcala
for the purpose of taking the habit he would probably have
found so many to dissuade him that he might never have
taken it. But the Virgin, our Lady, to whom he is extremely
devout, would reward him by giving him her habit, and so
I think that she interceded with God for him, and obtained
for him that grace. The cause even of his taking the habit,
and of his being so devoted to the order, was this glorious
Virgin, who would not that one who longed so earnestly
to serve her should be without the means of doing so; for
was Pedro Bullon, and his mother Isabel Roca, both most devout
Christians. Fra Juan was sent to Barcelona, where he made all
his studies, and there was made doctor in theology. He obtained
a benefice and was ordained priest. Some time after he went to
Alcala, and there saw how empty were all learned distinctions. One
day, in the monastery founded by Maria of Jesus (Life, ch. xxxv!.
§ 29), he heard Jerome Gratian, then a secular priest, preach a sermon
in which he spoke ot the antiquity of the order, and of the many saints
it had given to the church of God. He went thence to Pastrana, for
the reputation of the monastery had filled the university of Alcala,
and in the beginning of the year 1573 made his profession (Reforma
lib. iv. ch. xxxix. § 6, 7).
1 See ch. xvii. § 15.
550 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIII.
she is wont to help those who wish to place themselves under
her protection.
5. As a boy in Madrid he used often to go to an image
of our Lady to which he had a great devotion — where it was
I do not remember. He used to address her as his love, and
it was the image he most frequently visited. She must have
obtained from her Son for him that purity in which he always
lived. He says that he saw her eyes sometimes — so he
thought — filled with tears over the many offences committed
against her Son. That made him very eager and earnest for
the salvation of souls, and gave him- a sense of pain whenever
he saw people sin against God. So greatly is he under the
dominion of this desire for the salvation of souls that he
regards all troubles as nothing if he thinks he can do any
good thereby. I have seen this to be true in the many troubles
he has undergone.
6. The Virgin then brought him to Pastrana, he being all
the while under a mistake, for he thought he was going
thither to obtain the habit for a nun, and God was leading
him thither to take it himself. Oh, the secrets of God ! How,
without our seeking, He goeth about preparing us for His
graces, and how He rewarded this soul for the good works
it had done, for the good example it had always given, and
for its earnest desire to serve His glorious Mother! for His
Majesty must ever repay this desire with exceeding great
rewards.
7. Arrived in Pastrana, he wrent to speak to the prioress1
about the reception of the nun who was to take the habit, and
it seems that the prioress told him to pray to our Lord that
he might enter the order himself. She saw how pleasing was
his address — and it is so much so that for the most part
those who converse with him come to love him ; it is a grace
from our Lord, and he is extremely beloved therefore by all
his subjects, both friars and nuns ; for, though he overlooks
no fault — herein he is very exact regarding the prosperity of
the order — he does it all with such winning sweetness that no
one is able to complain of him.
8. It was with the prioress as with everybody else — she
felt an immense desire that he should enter the order, spoke
of it to her sisters, and told them all to consider it as of great
importance to them, for there were then very few or scarcely
1 Isabel of S. Dominic. See ch. xvii. § 14.
CH. XXIII. J SEVILLE. 551
any like him, and to pray to our Lord not to let him go away
except in the habit. This prioress is a very great servant of
God, and I believe His Majesty would have listened to her
prayers alone : what, then, must He have done to the prayers
of the holy sisters wrho were there? Every one of them took
the matter into her own especial care, and made continual
supplication to His Majesty in fasting, discipline, and prayer;
and in the end He was pleased to be gracious unto us.
9. When Father Gratian went to the monastery of the
friars, and beheld so much devotion and good will in the
service of our Lord, and above all that this was the order
of His glorious Mother, whom he so earnestly desired to
serve, his heart began to be moved, and he had no wish to
return to the world, though Satan suggested many difficulties
particularly the distress of his father and mother, who loved
him much, and relied much on him to provide for their
children.1 They had many sons and daughters.2 He, casting
that care upon God, for whom he was leaving everything,
determined to become the subject of the Virgin and put on
her habit; and so they gave it to him, to the great joy of
everybody, especially of the nuns and the prioress, who gave
earnest thanks to our Lord, thinking that God had done this
for them in answer to their prayers.3
10. During the year of probation he was as humble as
the least of the novices. His goodness was once tried in a
special way : in the absence of the prior, a young and unlearned
friar took his place as the next elder, but whose abilities were
very poor, and who had no discretion in government; he was
also without experience, for he had but lately entered. The
1 Though the father of Gratian was secretary to Philip II., and
higfr in his favour, he was far from being wealthy. Some of his
daughters, sisters of Gratian, had to be received as nuns without a
dowry, and out of charity, because of the poverty of the family
(De la Fucnte, who adds, thinking probably of other secretaries,
Quantum mutatus ab ilia!}.
2 They had twenty children, six of whom became Carmelites;
but of the six one had to leave through ill-health (Fra Anton, of
S. Joseph, note to Letter 24 of vol. ii. ed. Doblado; Letter 192, ed.
De la Fuente).
• Fra Jerome took the habit, without returning to Alcala, on the
feast of the Annunciation, March 25, 1572, and was professed March
28, 1573 (Re forma, lib. iii. ch. xxi. §§ 6, 7).
552 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIII.
way he ruled them and the mortifications he made them
undergo were so severe that each time I think of it I am.
astonished that they were able to bear it, especially such
persons as they were; and they needed the spirit which God
gave them to endure it. It was found out afterwards that this
friar was very subject to melancholy, and wherever he may
be, even as a subject, it is a trial to live with him; what then
must it have been when he had to govern others? . His
melancholy temper has great mastery over him, and yet he is
a good religious, and God sometimes allows the mistake to
be made of putting persons of this kind in authority for the
perfecting of the virtue of obedience in those He loves.
11. It must have been so in this case, for God gave to
the father Fra Jerome of the Mother of God, who merited
therein, the most clear light in the matter of obedience for
the instruction of his subjects, having made himself so good
a beginning in the practice thereof. And, that he might not
be without experience in everything necessary for us, he was
subject to most distressing temptations for three months
preceding his profession ; but he, as one who had to be a
skilful leader of the Virgin's children, resisted them so well
that, when Satan was most urgent with him to leave the order
he defended himself by making a promise never to leave it,
and to take the vows. He gave me a certain work he had
written in the midst of these heavy temptations ; it filled me
with great devotion, and plainly shows what courage our
Lord had given him.
12. It may seem absurd that he should have told me
much about his soul : our Lord, perhaps, would have it so
in order that I might write of it here, to show forth His
praise in His creatures, for I know that he never revealed
so much to his confessor or to any one else. Now and then
there were reasons for it : he thought that I, with my many
years, and because of things he had heard of me, might have
some experience in such matters. He told me these things,
and others which I shall not write of, that I may not be
tedious, when we were conversing about other matters. I have
laid great constraint upon myself herein, lest I should give
him pain if what I am writing should ever fall into his hands.
I am not able, nor did I think it right — for this writing, if
ever he should see it, will not be shown him for a long time —
to refrain from speaking of one who has rendered such great
CH. XXIII.] SEVILLE. 553
services in the renewal of the primitive rule; for, though he
was not the first to make a beginning, he came in due time,
for I should have been occasionally sorry that the reform
had been begun if my trust in the mercy of God had not been
so great.
13. I am speaking of the houses of the friars, for those
of the nuns have, by the goodness of God, prospered even
until now, and those of the friars have not failed ; but they
had in them an element of rapid decline because, not forming
a province by themselves, they were governed by the fathers
of the mitigated rule. Those who could have governed them
had no authority, such as Fra Antonio of Jesus,1 who was
the first to make a beginning; nor had they any constitutions
given them by the most reverend the father general. In every
house they did as they pleased. Before the constitutions were
given them, and before they had a settled government of
their own, there was trouble enough, some of them being for
this and others for that. I was often in great distress about
them. Our Lord sent the father-master Fra Jerome of the
Mother of God to our relief, for he was made commissary
apostolic,2 and had to rule and govern both the friars and
the nuns of the barefooted Carmelites. He made the constitu
tions of the friars ;3 we had ours already from the most
reverend our father-general, and thus it was that he made
none for us, only for them, in virtue of his apostolic authority
and of the good gifts, as I said before, which our Lord had
1 Fra Antonio became a source of some anxiety to the Saint a few
years after this, and before she had written the whole of this book.
See Lett. 270, but Lett. 33 vol. ii. ed. Doblado; and Lett. 320, but
Lett. 27 vol. iii. ed. Doblado.
2 See below, ch. xxiv. § i. note 0).
* The nuncio, Monsignor Ormaneto, in 1575 made Fra Jerome
superior of the Carmelites in Spain, and accordingly in his visitation
in that year the constitutions were made which Fra Jerome gave to the
friars to observe. The constitutions of the nuns had been already
drawn up by S. Teresa, by authority given her by the Sovereign
Pontiff, Pius IV., who had also approved of them. But, as these were
drawn up for the monastery of S. Joseph under the jurisdiction of
the ordinary, the Saint did not give them to the other monasteries
till she had the sanction of the general. She conceals the fact that
she had written them herself, and says most truly that the later
monasteries received them as the constitutions of the general, who
had simply approved of them for the new houses.
554 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [(JH. XXIV.
given him. The first time he made his visitation he ordered
everything so wisely and so well, thereby showing plainly
that His Divine Majesty was keeping him, and that our Lady
had chosen him to be the succour of her order; and I pray
her earnestly to obtain from her Son help for him always,
and the grace to advance more and more in His service.
Amen.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE FOUNDATION OF S. JOSEPH OF CARMEL IN THE CITY
OF SEVILLE.
1. WHEN the father-master Fra Jerome Gratian came to
see me in Veas,1 as I have just said,2 we had never met before,
1 Fra Jerome made his profession March 21, 1573, and on the
4th of August following was created visitor of Andalusia by Fra
Baltasar of Jesus, prior of Pastrana, acting under the authority of
Fra Francis de Vargas, Dominican, and apostolic visitor of the
Carmelites in Andalusia. Notwithstanding his office, he would not
leave his monastery of Pastrana without the permission of his
superiors, and the visitor apostolic Fra Pedro Fernandez would not
grant it. Fra Mariano (see ch. xvii. § 5) therefore applied to the Fra
Angel de Salazar, the provincial, for leave to go to Seville on business
which he had not settled when he took the habit. He applied also
for leave to be accompanied by any father he might name. Nothing
was said of the real reason, and Fra Jerome's name was not uttered.
The provincial gave the leave required. Fra Mariano chose Fra
Jerome to be his companion, and the two friars left Castille for Anda
lusia. In Toledo, whither they went to see Fra Antonio of Jesus,
they were overtaken by a mandate of the general of the order,
commanding Fra Mariano to become a priest; and he, against his
will, was then made sub-deacon on Ember Saturday, in September.
They found Fra Francis de Vargas in his monastery of Granada,
being then provincial of his order, who received them with great
joy, and gave all his powers to Fra Jerome. The Carmelite provincial
having heard of the ordination of Fra Mariano, and having some
suspicion that the journey was not meant only for his private affairs,
recalled the two friars to Pastrana. They replied that they were
ready to obey, but were unable, because under the obedience of Fra
Francis de Vargas, the apostolic visitor. They then hastened to
Seville, where Fra Jerome remained (not now subject to the pro
vincial) till he was sent for to Madrid, because of the storm that began
to threaten the reform. He preached in Seville during Lent, 1575,
and then, leaving that city, arrived in Veas in April, while the Saint
was still there (Reforma, lib. iii. ch. xxi., xxii.; and ch. xxxvi. § 3).
1 Ch. xxiii. § 1.
CH. XXIV.] SEVILLE. 555
though I had wished it much ; letters, however, had
occasionally passed between us. I rejoiced extremely when
I heard he was in the town, for I was longing to see him
because of the good accounts I had had of him; but I rejoiced
still more when I had begun to converse with him, for he
pleased me so much that I did not think that they who had
spoken so highly of him really knew him at all. I was in
great trouble at the time, but when I saw him our Lord
seemed to show me all the good he was to do for us, and
therefore during those days I felt such exceeding comfort
and happiness that I was in truth astonished at myself. At
that time, however, his authority did not reach beyond
Andalusia;1 but when he was in Veas the nuncio2 sent for
him, and then gave him jurisdiction over the barefooted friars
and nuns of the province of Castille.3 My spirit so exulted
1 The Carmelite friars, unwilling to be reformed, obtained from
Gregory XIII., on the 3rd day of August, 1574, the recall of the powers
given to the two Dominican visitors by S. Pius V., so far as it enabled
them to visit monasteries which the general or his vicars might visit.
But as the papal brief did not touch the powers of the nuncio, who
was himself commissioned to reform the order, the nuncio, to save
the reform from the ruin that threatened it, made Fra Francisco de
Vargas and Fra Jerome of the Mother of God visitors of Andalusia,
September 22nd of the same year. To make this act safe, the nuncio
sent to Rome for advice, and the secretary of His Holiness told him
that his powers had been left intact (Rcforma, lib. iii. ch. xxxix. § 4).
2 Monsignore Nicholas Ormaneto one of the most zealous prelates
of the sixteenth century. He had been in England with Cardinal
Pole, and was afterwards present at the council of Trent. He was
vicar-general of S. Charles in Milan, and afterwards bishop of Padua.
He came to Spain in 1572, and in June, 1577, died in such extreme
poverty, the fruits of continual almsgiving, that he had to be buried
at the expense of the king, Philip II. (De la Fuente), who had the
greatest respect for him, and who ordered his burial to be celebrated
with the magnificence due to a prelate of such great worth (Reforma,
lib. iv. ch. xxiii. § 1).
3 Fra Jerome was in Seville when the nuncio made him visitor of
Andalusia, in September, 1574. That first commission was not acted
on by Fra Jerome, except in the commandment he gave S. Teresa
to found a house in Seville. The second commission, by which he
was made visitor of Castille also, was signed August 3, 1575, after
he had seen S. Teresa in Veas. The nuncio gave him powers to
reform the order both in Andalusia and Castille, and thus armed he
began to make his visitation, which in Castille lasted three months.
At this time he gave certain constitutions founded on the primitive
556 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIV.
in this that during those days I could not thank our Lord
enough, and I had no wish to do anything else.
2. At this time they obtained the licence for making
a foundation in Caravaca,1 but it was not such as I required
for my purpose ; and it became, therefore, necessary for them
to. send again to the court, for I wrote to the foundresses that
the foundation would be made only on certain conditions,
not therein expressed; and thus it became necessary to apply
to the court again. It was very inconvenient for me to remain
there so long, and I wished to return to Castille ; but, as the
father Fra Jerome, to whom the monastery was now subject —
for he was commissary over the whole province of Castille2-
was there at the time, and, as I could do nothing without his
consent, I communicated on the subject with him. He
thought that if I were once gone there would be an end of
the foundation of Caravaca, and also that it would be greatly
for the service of God to found a house in Seville,3 which to
rule, and on the practices of Fra Antonio of Jesus and S. John of the
Cross, who had been in the order longer than he had been (Reforma,
lib. iii. ch. xxxix. § 3; ch. xli. § 4; ch. xlii. § 1. See above, ch. xxiii.
§ 12).
1 See ch. xxvi. below.
8 The Carmelite fathers who observed the mitigated rule, when
they saw that Fra Jerome of the Mother of God had obtained from
Fra Francis de Vargas powers to protect those who kept the primitive
rule, suspected that he had also, as was the fact, received powers to
reform them. They immediately begged the general in Rome to
obtain from Gregory XIII. the revocation of the powers entrusted
to the two Dominican visitors, and thereby those granted by one of
them to Fra Jerome. That was done, but the general waited for
the publication of the brief till May 2, 1575, when the general chapter
of the order was to meet at Piacenza. This was known in Spain,
but, as the powers of the nuncio were not touched by the briefs,
Ormaneto made Fra Jerome visitor of Andalusia and Castille (Re
forma de los Descalqos, lib. iii. ch. xxxvi. §§ 1, 2). Most of the previous
editions, and perhaps all the translations, including that of F.
Bouix and that of Martinez, adopted by the Bollandists, have "pro
vince of Andalusia" instead of "province of Castille."
* Ch. xxiv. § 3. Fra Jerome stayed about three weeks in Veas
(letter 57, but 49 vol. i. ed. Doblado), and commanded the Saint to
ask our Lord whether the foundation in Madrid or that in Seville
should be the next. The Saint obeyed, and the answer was Madrid.
Thereupon Fra Jerome bade her prepare for that of Seville, and the
Saint began at once to make her arrangements. Two or three days
CH. XXIV. j SEVILLE. 55?
him seemed very easy, because persons in authority there,
and willing to give him a house at once, had asked it of him!
The archbishop of Seville, too, was so well disposed towards
the order that he believed he would be greatly pleased, and
accordingly it was agreed that the prioress and the nuns
whom I was to take to Caravaca should go to Seville. I had
always resolutely refrained, for certain reasons, from making
any foundations in Andalusia, and if I had known when 1
went thither that Veas was in the province of Andalusia
I should not have gone at all. Though the place is not in
Andalusia, I think it is four or five leagues distant from the
boundaries of that country; it is, however, in the province,
and that is the source of the mistake. But when 1 saw that
it was the will of my superior 1 yielded at once, for our Lord
has given me the grace to think that my superiors are always
in the right. Yet I had made up my mind to found a house
elsewhere, and had some very grave reasons for not going
to Seville.
3 Preparations for the journey were made at once,
for the heat was beginning. The commissary, father Gratian,
went to the nuncio, who had sent for him, and we to Seville1
with my good companions, father Julian of Avila, Antonio
Gay tan, and a barefooted friar.2 We travelled in carnages
afterwards Fra Jerome asked her why she obeyed him, who was
guided in the matter simply by reasons of his own, rather than our
Lord, who had revealed to her that He wished her to go to Madrid.
She replied that she could not be so sure of any revelation as she was
of his order, and that it was her duty to obey him as her immediate
superior. He ordered her to pray once more, and then our L/ord bade
her go to Seville (Yepes, ii. 28)
1 The Saint, according to her letter (see the preceding note)
intended to leave Veas May 16, 1575, but did so only on the 18th,
Wednesday before Pentecost, taking with her Mary of S. Joseph,
Isabel of S. Francis, Mary of the Holy Ghost, Isabel of S. Jerome,
Leonor of St. Gabriel and Anne of S. Albert. The last was not to
remain in Seville, for the Saint intended her to be the prioress of
Caravaca (Re forma de los Descalgos, lib. iii. ch. xxxvii. § 3).
2 He was an ecclesiastic, native of Villarubia, who had followed
the Saint from Malagon with his two sisters, who were to become
Carmelites. He himself had received the habit in Veas from Fra
Jerome, and taken the name of Gregory Nazianzen. Soon after he
was made master of novices in Seville, where he was professed
March 27, 1576. One of the novices under him was the famous Doria,
Nicholas Jesu Maria. At the same time, in Veas, Julian of Avila
558 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIV.
well covered, for that is ever our way of travelling, and when
we came to an inn we took a room, good or bad as it might
be, at the door of which a sisLer received what we had need
of, and even those who travelled with us never entered it. We
made all the haste we could, yet we reached Seville only on
the Thursday1 before the feast of the Most Holy Trinity,
having suffered on the road from the heat, which was very
great; for, though we did not travel on the holy days, I must
tell you, my sisters, that, as the sun in its strength struck
the carriages, to go into them was like going into purgatory.
Sometimes by thinking of hell, at other times that we were
doing and suffering something for God, the sisters travelled
in great cheerfulness and jcy, for the six sisters who were
with me had such courage that I think I could have ventured
to go with them into the country of the Turks, and that they
would have been so brave as to do so ; or to speak more
correctly, that our Lord would have made them brave enough
to suiter for Him, for that was their desire and their conversa
tion, being exceedingly given to prayer and mortification,
for, as they were to live so far away, I took care they should
be such as wrere fitted for the work; and all my care was
necessary, so great were the troubles that arose, some of
which, and they were the heaviest, I will not speak of, because
it might touch certain persons.
4. One day before Pentecost God sent them a very
heavy cross, which was my falling into a very violent fever.
They called upon God, and that, I believe, wras the cause of
its going no further, for I never had before in my whole life
a fever of that kind that did not become much worse. It was
so violent that I seemed to have fallen into a lethargy, so
unconscious was I. They threw water over my face, but it
was so warm, because of the heat, that it gave me hardly
any refreshment at all. I cannot help telling you of the poor
lodging we had in this our need ; they gave us a small room
like a shed, which had no window, into which the sun poured
whenever the door was opened. You must remember that
received the Carmelite scapular from Fra Jerome. There Catherine
of Jesus — Catalina de Sandoval — saw Fra Juan de la Miseria on his
way to Seville, and recognised the friar she had seen in a vision
twenty years before (Refcrma de los Descalqos, lib. iii. ch. xxxvi. § 6).
See ch. xxii. § 21.
1 May 26th, 1575.
CH. XXIV.] SEVILLE. 55!>
the heat there is not like that of Castille, being much more
oppressive.
5. They laid me on a bed, but as it was so uneven I would
have preferred being laid on the floor. I could not lie on it, for
it seemed as if made of sharp stones. What illness is ! in
health everything is easy to bear. At last I thought it best
to rise and go on, for it seemed to me easier to bear the heat
of the sun in the open country than in that little room. Oh,
those poor souls in hell ! for them there is no change ; for
that seems a relief, even if it be from one suffering to another.
It has happened to me to have a very violent pain in one
side, and to find an apparent relief in. changing my place,
though I had another pain as violent in the other: it was
so now. I was not at all distressed, so far as I remember,
at my illness; the sisters felt it much more than I did. It
was the good pleasure of our Lord that its extreme violence
did not last more than one day.
6. A little before, I do not know if it was two days,
something else befell us that placed us in no slight danger
when crossing the Guadalquivir in a boat. When they had
to ferry the carriages across they could not keep, close to
the rope, and they had therefore to make a tack in the river,
although in tacking also the rope was of some help to them ;
however, it happened that those who held the rope either let
it go or lost it, I do not know which, and the boat went off
with the carriages away from the rope, and without oars.
I was more concerned for the distress of the ferryman than
about the danger ; we began to pray, and the boatman to shout.
A nobleman in a neighbouring castle was looking on, and,
pitying our condition, sent people to our succour, for at that
moment we had not yet lost the rope, and our brethren with
all their might were holding on to it ; the force of the current,
however, was too much for them, and some of them were even
thrown down. A little boy of the ferryman, whom I shall
never forget, stirred up my devotion exceedingly ; he must
have been, I think, about ten or eleven years old; his distress
at the sight of his father in trouble was such as to make me
give praise to our Lord. But, as His Majesty ever tempers
our trials with His compassion, so it was at this time, for
the boat struck on a sandbank, on one side of which the water
was shallow, whereby they could come to our relief. We
should have found it very hard to recover our road, because
560 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIV
it was now night, if one who had come from the castle had not
become our guide. I did not intend to speak of these things,
which are of little importance, for I have said enough of the
difficulties we met in our journeys — I have been pressed much
to speak more at length.
7. A trouble far greater than those I have mentioned
befell us on the last day of Whitsuntide. We hurried on so
as to reach Cordova early in the morning, that we might hear
mass unseen by anybody. We were directed to go for greater
retirement to a church on the other side of the bridge. When
we were ready to cross we were without the permission
necessary for carriages, which only the governor could give,
and as people were not yet up two hours passed away before
it was obtained, and a great crowd came about us to find
out who were the travellers. We did not care much about
this, for as we were perfectly concealed they could not see
us. When permission to cross was given the carriages could
not pass through the gate of the bridge ; it was found necessary
to use the saw, or something of that kind, I know not what,
and that occasioned the waste of more time.
8. At last when we reached the church in which father
Julian of Avila was to say mass we found it full of people,
for it was dedicated to the Holy Ghost; it was a great solem
nity, and a sermon was preached : of this we knew nothing.
When I saw it all I was greatly distressed, and thought it
would have been better for us to have gone on without hearing
mass than be in the midst of so much confusion. Father
Julian of Avila did not think so, and as he was a theologian
we had all of us to yield to his opinion ; all the others who
were with me would perhaps have followed mine, and it
would have been very wrong. I do not know, however, that
I should have trusted to my own opinion alone. We alighted
close to the church ; though nobody could see our faces, for we
always wore our large veils, it was enough to disturb every
body to see us in them, and in our white mantles of coarse
cloth which we wear, and in our sandals of hemp : so it
happened. The surprise, indeed, was great for me and for
everybody: as for myself, it must have taken away my fever
altogether. As we were entering the church a good man
came up to me, and made a passage for us through the crowd.
I begged him to take us to one of the chapels ; he did so, and
closed it upon us, nor did he leave us before he had led us
CH. XXIV.] SEVILLE. 561
out of the church again. A few days later he came to Seville,
and said to a father of our order that he thought that because
of the service he had rendered us God had been very good to
him, for a large estate, of which he had no expectation, had
come into his possession. I tell you, my daughters, that these
were some of the worst moments I ever passed, though you
may perhaps think nothing of it, for the people were in con
fusion as if bulls had broken in among them. 1 therefore did
not wait for the usual hour for quitting that place, though
there was no place near where we could take our rest at noon :
we found it under a bridge.1
9. On reaching the house in Seville2 .which the father
Fra Mariano had hired for us — he had had directions to do so —
I thought everything was done ; for, as I said before,3 the
archbishop4 was very favourable to the barefooted Carmelites,
and had occasionally written to myself showing me great
affection; it was not enough, however, to spare me much
suffering, for so God did will it. The archbishop is a great
enemy of all monasteries of nuns founded in poverty, and he
has his reasons. The mischief, or, to speak more correctly, the
good, so far as this foundation is concerned, lay in silence
on this point, for if they had told him all before I had set out on
my journey I am certain he never would have given his con
sent. But the father-commissary and father Mariano, most
fully persuaded that he would give it, that my coming would
be a very great pleasure to him, and that they were doing him a
very great service in bringing me, said nothing to him before
hand, and, as I was saying, they might have committed a great
mistake if they had told him, thinking they were doing right ;
for in founding the other monasteries the first thing I sought
was the sanction of the ordinary, according to the decree of
1 It was on this day and at this place that the Saint made the
vow of obedience to Fra Jerome of the Mother of God, of which
she speaks in Relation iii. § 3. See Relation vi, § 3.
2 On Thursday, May 26, 1575, within the octave of Pentecost.
See above, § 4.
3 See § 3 above.
4 The archbishop of Seville was the celebrated Don Cristobal de
Roxas y Sandoval, previously bishop of Oviedo and Cordova. He
was translated to Seville in 1571, and lived till 1580. He had been
present in the Council of Trent, and was very zealous for ecclesiastical
discipline, and most charitable to the poor (Dc la Fuente}.
562 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CII. XXIV.
the council.1 Here we not only took it for granted but
looked on the monastery as a great service done to the arch
bishop, as indeed it was, and as he acknowledged afterwards ;
only it was our Lord's good pleasure that no foundation
should be made without great suffering for me, some in one
way, some in another.
10. Having reached the house hired for us, as I said
before, I meant to take possession at once, as I was in the
habit of doing, that we might say the divine office, but father
Mariano — it was he who was there — began to suggest delay,
for he, to avoid giving me pain, would not tell me everything.
But, as his reasons were insufficient, I saw where the difficulty
lay — no permission had been given ; and so he asked me to
allow the monastery to be endowed, or something of that
kind ; but I do not remember what it was. At last he told me
that the archbishop was not disposed to sanction a monastery
of nuns — that he had never sanctioned one since he became
archbishop, nor even during the many years he had been here
and in Cordova, great servant of God as he is; still less
would he sanction a monastery founded in poverty.
11. This was nothing else but saying that the monastery
was not to be founded at all. In the first place, it would have
been very sad for me to do this in the city of Seville ; I might,
however, have done it in those parts of the country where
I had founded monasteries endowed ; it was in small villages
where they must have been so founded, or not at all, because
there were no other means of sustaining them. In the next
place, we had not a farthing remaining after paying the
expenses of the journey, and we had brought nothing with us
except that which we had on, a tunic or two and a hood, and
what served as a covering for us in the carriages; and
then to send back those who had come with us we should have
had to borrow money. Antonio Gaytan had a friend there,
and he lent us some, and father Mariano begged some for
furnishing the house; we had no house of our own, and thus
the foundation seemed impossible.
12. The archbishop allowed us, but it must have been
after urgent pressing on the part of Mariano, to have mass
Nee de cetero similia loca erigantur sine episcopi, in cujus
dioecesi erigenda sunt, licentia prius obtenta (Cone. Trident. Sess.
xxv. c. iii).
EIGHTEENTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
FLORECIO LA SOLEDAD
MAS SV BERDVRA Y FLOR SEPA
QVE SON FRUTOS DE ESTA CEPA
!-!-
re Hoys
1. Subterranean prisons, in which the Moors kept their Christian captives.
Chapel of the Martyrs, built there later, and given with the chaplain's house to the
Discalced Friars in 1573. (After an engraving- of 1563.) 2. Anne of Jesus of the
Lobera family. 3. Church and monastery of LHscalced Carmelites. Market people.
Collegians still wearing the dress of St. Teresa's time. 4. Enigmatical group in
white marble which surmounts the side door of the church. 5. Bas-relief, also of
marble representing the Holy Family, set into the facade of the monastery.
n £fis^lnal letter from s*« Teresa, preserved in the Collegiate church at Pastrana.
7. St. Teresa's renunciation of the Mitigated Rule; fac-simile of the Saint's writing
ST. JOSEPH AT GRANADA.
XXIV.
DEL SEPULCRO SALE UN RAYO
QVE A FRANCIAYAL MUNDO ENTERO
SIRVE DE LUZ Y DE LUCERO
Bruges.?
8. \\ oo. l«-n <-ross. encased in a silver mounting and with a silver pedestal According-
to the inscription St. Teresa wore the cross for fourteen years, and Our Lord once
took it in his hand. 9. Wooden cross found in the tomb of St. Teresa 10 Mural
painting iu the portress' room of the Carmelites of Salamanca. 11. Thomas of Jesu»
founder of the Discalced Carmelite Friars in Belgium. 12. Arms of the tie I.obcra
family. 13. Arms of the de Cordova family. 14. Arms of the family of Quiiitana
Dueiias, one of whose members helped to introduce the Discalced Carmelites into
France. 15. Arms of the city of Granada. (See Appendix, note 25.)
CH. XXIV.] SEVILLE. 563
said on the feast of the Most Holy Trinity,1 and that was the
first. He sent a message to the effect that no bell was to be
rung or even set up, but that was done already. We continued
thus for a fortnight, and I know I had made up my mind, but
for the father-commissary and father Mariano, to go back with
my nuns, with very little regret, to Veas, to make the founda
tion in Caravaca. I had much more to bear with during those
days — how long it was I know not, for I do not remember —
I think it was more than a month — for our immediate de
parture would have been less intolerable, seeing that the
existence of the monastery had been made known already.
Father Mariano would never let me write to the archbishop,
but he won him over by degrees himself, and by the help of
letters of the father-commissary from Madrid.
13. One thing set me at ease from much scruple; this
was that mass had been said with the archbishop's leave,
and we always said our office in choir. He sent' some people
to visit me, and to tell me that he would come soon himself.
It was one of his chaplains whom he had sent to say the
first mass. I saw clearly by this that all that happened seemed
to have no other end but to keep me in pain. The sources
of that pain, however, were not in anything I or my nuns
had to suffer, but in the distress of the father-commissary,
who was much afflicted because he had ordered me to go
thither; and his distress would have been very great if any
mishap occurred, and there were many things to bring that
about.
14. At this time, too, the fathers of the mitigation came to
know why the foundation had been made.2 I showed them
my letters from the most reverend our father-general. They
were satisfied w^ith them, but if they had known what the
archbishop was doing I do not think they would have been
so ; but of that they knew nothing, for everybody believed
that the foundation gave him very great joy and pleasure.
1 May 29, 1575.
- The Saint speaks of this visit in a letter to the general, written
from Seville, June 18, 1575 (Lett. 59; but Lett. 72 vol. iv. ed. Doblado).
The prior of the Carmelites of the Observance, Fra Miguel de Ulloa,
was one of the visitors. They asked by what authority the monastery
had been erected, and on being shown the letter of the general asked
for a copy of it. The Saint knew that the copy might be made use
of against her, and refused to grant it. (Note of Fra Anton of
S. Joseph.)
564 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXV.
It pleased God at last that he came to see us, when I spoke
to him of the harm he was doing us. In the end he told me
to do what I liked and as I liked, and from that time forth
was gracious and kind to us on every occasion that offered.1
CHAPTER XXV.
S. JOSEPH OF SEVILLE.
1. No one would suppose that in a city so rich as Seville,
and among a people so wealthy, I should have had less help
in making a foundation than in any other place wherein
I had been.2 They did so little for me that I sometimes
thought it would not be well for us to have a monastery
there. I do not know whether it be that part of the earth
where I have heard people say the devils, by the permission
of God, have more power to tempt us.3 They pressed hard
1 The archbishop wished the nuns to come to Seville from the
first, but he did not wish them to have a separate monastery of their
own order. His purpose was to distribute them among the several
monasteries within his jurisdiction, in order that by their fervour
and good example those monasteries might be reformed and made
better (Yepes, ii. ch. 28).
2 The nuns lived in the most extreme poverty, sleeping on the
floor; and the dishes for their table, lent by their neighbours for the
first day, were sent for on the next and returned. In a few days a
charitable lady, Dona L/eonor de Valera, heard of their distress, and
gave alms secretly to a good woman, whose deTDtion it was to succour
the needy. But the poor Carmelites were hardly the better for the
charity of Dona Leonor, though intended for them alone, because the
good woman who was to carry it to them took it into her head that
they were not in great want, and divided the alms among others
(Re forma, lib. iii. ch. xxxvii. § 5).
3 The Saint was a Castilian by birth and education and was not
without a certain prejudice against the people of Andalusia, against
whom the proverb runs, Jesus y Cruses y pedradas en los Andaluzes.
The Castilians, who are a most sincere sort of people, have made
this proverb against the Andalusians who are more crafty and deceit
ful, as living near the sea and learning of strangers. They call upon
the holy name of Jesus to assist them against those people, make
the sign of the cross as they do against the devil, and, thinking all
this too little, add, they must throw stones at them. (Pineda, in voce
"Jesus.")
CH. XXV.] SEVILLE. 565
upon me, for never in any other place was I so weak and
cowardly. Certainly I did not know myself, though I did
not lose my ordinary trust in our Lord. I was, however,
so different from what I usually am ever since I began these
foundations, that I felt our Lord was in some measure with
drawing His hand, that He might abide in Himself, and that
I might see that any courage I had before was not mine.
2. I remained there from the time already mentioned
till a little before Lent;1 I never thought of buying a house,
and I had not the means of doing so, neither was there any one
who would be surety for us. As for those who had spoken
so much to the father, the apostolic visitor, about entering
the order, and who had asked him to bring the nuns to Seville,
they must have seen later that our life was too austere, and
that they could not bear it. One only came to us, of whom
I shall speak later.2 And now the time was come to order me
to leave Andalusia, for other matters were now pressing here.3
It was a very great grief to me to leave the nuns without a
house of their own, though I saw that I was of no use what
soever there, for that grace which God gives me of finding
some one to help us in our work God did not give me there.
3. It pleased God that a brother of mine, Lorenzo de
Cepeda, arrived at this time from the Indies, where he had
been living for more than thirty-four years. He took it more
to heart than I did that the nuns had no house of their own,
and helped us much, especially in finding for us the house
wherein they dwell now. I, too, was then much more urgent
in my prayers to our Lord, begging Him not to let me leave
them without a house, and I made the sisters pray to Him
for the same object, and to the glorious S. Joseph; we had
many processions and made many prayers to our La'dy. Rely
ing on these, and seeing my brother bent on helping us, I
began to treat about the purchase of certain houses, and,
though the matter seemed to be arranged, yet all came to
nothing
1 Ash Wednesday fell on March 7 in 1576, and the Saint had
arrived in Seville on Thursday, May 26, 1575. See ch. xxiv. § 9.
* See ch. xxvi. § 3.
8 The Saint had now been ordered by the provincial to leave
Seville and take up her residence in some other monastery, the
choice of which was, however, left to her.
566 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXV.
4. When I was in prayer one day, beseeching God to
give them a house, seeing that they were His brides and
were so anxious to please Him, He said to me, "I have heard
you; let Me be." I was very glad, considering the house
already gained, and so it was — His Majesty saved us from
buying one with which everybody was pleased because the
site was good ; it was so old and in so ruinous a state that we
were buying merely the site, and that for a little less than
the house we are in cost us. When the matter was settled,
and nothing remained but the drawing up of the deeds, I
was not at all satisfied; it seemed to me that the last word
I had heard in prayer was not fulfilled in that house, for that
word, as I understood it, meant that God would give us a good
house ; and it was His pleasure to do so, for the very person
who had sold the house, notwithstanding his great gain
thereby, made difficulties about the deeds when the time
for signing them had come. We were, therefore, free to aban
don our bargain without difficulty on our part; and it was a
great grace of our Lord to us, for those who might have had
to live in it would never in all their life have finished the
repairs it needed ; it would have been a great trouble to them,
and their means were scanty.
5. Wre had much help herein from a servant of God,
who almost from the day of our arrival, when he knew that
we had no one to say mass, came every day to say it, though
his house was far away, and the heat excessive. He was
Garcia Alvarez,1 a very good man, and respected in the city
for his good deeds, and to which alone he was always devoted,
and if he had been wealthy we should never have been in
any want. As he knew the house well, he thought it very
foolish to give so much for it, told us so every day, and wanted
us to speak about it no more. He and my brother went to see
1 This good priest became chaplain and confessor to the nuns,
and in November of this year began to make the Saint uneasy. He
interfered with the discipline of the house, kept his penitents long
in the confessional, and introduced into the monastery any confessor
a nun might wish to consult. When the prioress, Mary of St. Joseph,
remonstrated with him, he went about the city and consulted others
as to whether a prioress could meddle with anything relating to
confession. S. Teresa applied to Fra Pedro Fernandez, the visitor,
who, being at Seville, inquired into the matter, and ordered the
prioress to dismiss the indiscreet confessor. (Note of Fra Anton of
S. Joseph to Lett. 113; but 84 vol. ii. ed. Doblado.)
CH. XXV.] SEVILLE. 567
that wherein the sisters are now living, and returned so
pleased with it — and justly so, for our Lord meant it for us—
that in two or three days the deeds were drawn up.
6. We had some trouble in moving into it, for they who
were then living in it would not go out, and the Franciscan
friars, who lived close by, came at once to beg of us not to go
in on any account. If the deeds had not been drawn up and
signed I might have thanked our Lord to have the contract
set aside, for we were in danger of paying 6000 ducats, the
price of the house, without being able to take possession.
Not so did the prioress1 look on it; she thanked God the
bargain could not be broken,2 for His Majesty gave her more
faith and courage than to me in all that related to that house,
and she must have greater courage than I have in everything,
for she is much better than I am. We were in this trouble
for more than a month ; then it pleased God that we should
remove, the prioress and myself with the two other nuns ;
we did so by night, and in great fear, that the friars might
know nothing about it before we took possession ; they who
went with us said that they thought every shadow they saw
was a friar.
7. Early in the morning the good Garcia Alvarez, who
came with us, said the first mass,3 and we had no fear now.
O Jesus, what fears I have had when taking possession ! If
when doing no evil, but serving God, such fears are felt, what
must it be with those persons who go about doing evil against
God and their neighbour? I know not what gain they can
have, or what pleasure they can seek with such odds against
them.
8. My brother was not here then, for he had taken sanc-
1 This was Mary of S. Joseph, born in Molina, of Aragon, and a
professed nun in the monastery of Malagon (Rcforma de los Descalqos.
lib iii. c. xxxvii. § 4) Her name in the world was Maria de Salazar;
she was living with Dona Luisa de la Cerda when the Saint visited
the latter in 1562, and was prioress of Lisbon when Ribera wrote the
Life of S. Teresa (Ribera, i. 8).
a The house belonged to Pedro Pablo, a minor canon of the
Cathedral, and was in the street called La Pageria. The house wa's
good, but the neighbourhood evil, and the nuns removed to another
in 1586 (Reforma, lib. iii. c. xtvi. § 1).
3 Julian of Avila had returned in the beginning of June, 1575 (Lett.
58; Lett. 54 vol. iii. ed. Doblado).
568 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXV.
tuary on account of a certain mistake made in the deed,1 which
was drawn up in a hurry — a mistake that involved a great
loss to the monastery — and as my brother was our security
they wished to take him to prison As he was a stranger his
imprisonment would have distressed us, and as it was we
were in trouble, for until he assigned some of his property
as security there was trouble enough. Later on the matter
was arranged satisfactorily, though, to give us more trouble,
we did not escape litigation for a time. We shut ourselves
up in certain rooms on the ground floor, and my brother
was there all day among the workmen, and supplied us with
food, and indeed had done so for many days before, for, as
everybody did not know of the monastery, because it was a
private house, we received but scanty alms except from the
prior of the Carthusians of Las Cuevas, a great servant of
God. He was a native of Avila, and of the Pantoja family.2
God inspired him with such great affection for us from the
time we came here, and I believe it will last, so that he will
help us to the end of his life. It is only reasonable, therefore,
my sisters, if you should read this, that you should pray to
God for one who has done so much for us, and for others
also, whether he be living or dead. I write this for that end :
to this holy man we owe much.
9. We were thus occupied for more than a month — so I
believe, but my memory is so bad in reckoning time, and so
I might be wrong; more or less must always be understood
when I speak of days, and it does not matter much. My
brother was very busy during this month in converting cer
tain rooms into a church, and in furnishing it throughout,
so that none of the labour fell upon us.
10. When it was finished I wished to have the Most Holy
Sacrament reserved without noise — for I very much dislike
giving trouble when it can be helped — and said so to the
1 The notary who drew up the deeds made the mistake, as appears
from a letter of the Saint to Fra Mariano, May 9, 1576 (Lett. 73;
but Lett. 33 vol. iii. ed. Doblado). Her brother, Don Lorenzo, took
refuge in the monastery of the Carmelites with Fra Jerome of the
Mother of God. and was there on the 29th April, 1576, as the Saint
writes of it on that day (Lett. 72; but Lett. 47 vol. i. ed. Doblado).
His name was Fernando Pantoja, according to De la Fuente
(Lett. 228; Lett. 17 vol. i. ed. Doblado); but Bouix gives him the name
of Gonzalve (Lett. 208, vol. iii. p. 26).
CH. XXV.] SEVILLE. 569
father Garcia Alvarez. He spoke about it to the father prior
of Las Cuevas, and they considered our affairs as if they
were their own. Their opinion was that it could not be done
as I wished, for if the monastery was to be known in Seville
the Most Holy must be solemnly reserved, and they went to
the archbishop. It was settled among them all that the Most
Holy Sacrament should be brought with great solemnity
from one of the parish churches. The archbishop ordered
the clergy and certain confraternities to join the procession,
and the streets to be decorated.
11. The good Garcia Alvarez adorned our cloister, which
I have said served us then for a passage, and the church with
the utmost care. He prepared handsome altars and arranged
many devices. Among these was a fountain of orange-flower
water, which we had neither wished for nor had anything
to do with; it was afterwards a great joy to us. It was a
comfort to us to witness such solemn preparations for our
feast, so much decoration of the streets, the music, and the
minstrelsy. The holj prior of Las Cuevas told me that he
had never seen anything like it in Seville, and that he
looked on it all as being visibly the work of God:
he was in the procession himself, which was an unusual act on
his pait. The archbishop carried the Most Holy Sacrament.1
You see here, my children, the poor Carmelites honoured of
all,2 who shortly before seemed as if they could not get a drop
of water, though there was plenty in the river. The people
came in crowds.
12. A strange thing happened, according to the account
of those who saw it. After many salvoes of artillery and
rockets discharged, when the procession was over and night
was coming on, the people wished to have more, when some
powder, I know not how, took fire ; and it was a great marvel
to all that he who had it was not killed. A huge flame rushed
upwards to the top of the cloisters, the ceiling of which was
covered with silk hangings, which everybody expected to see
burnt to ashes ; but it was not damaged in the slightest degree,
1 June 3, 1576, on the Sunday within the octave of the Ascension.
See below, ch. xxvi. § 1.
2 At the end of the function the Saint knelt before the archbishop
and begged his blessing, but to her great confusion the archbishop,
in the presence of a great crowd, begged the Saint to bless him
(Re forma de los Dcscalqos, lib. iii. ch. xlviii. § 1).
570 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVI.
though made of purple and gold. But what I am going to
say is astonishing: the stonework of the cloisters close under
the silk was black with smoke, while the silk above remained
unsoiled as if the fire had never reached it. Everybody was
amazed at the sight. The nuns gave thanks to our Lord,
for they could never have paid for the hangings. Satan must
have been so vexed at the solemnity which had been kept,
and at the sight of another house of God, that he would have
his revenge somehow, and His Majesty would not let him.
May He be blessed for ever and ever !
CHAPTER XXVI.
S. JOSEPH OF SEVILLE — OF THE FIRST NUN WHO ENTERED THE
HOUSE.
1. You can well imagine, my daughters, the joy we had
that day. Mine, I may say, was very great, especially when
1 saw that I was leaving the sisters in so good a house, so
well placed, the monastery known, and with nuns in it who
could pay the greater part of the sum it cost, so that by the
help of those who should come to fill up the number, however
small their dowry, they might live without being in debt.
What gave me the greatest joy of all was, that I had had a
share in their troubles, and when I had to rest myself I went
away. This festival took place on the Sunday before Pente
cost, 1576. Immediately after, on the Monday, I left the
place, to escape the great heat then beginning, and to avoid
travelling, if possible, in Whitsuntide, and to keep the feast
in Malagon, where I wished much to stop a day; that is why
I made such haste to be gone.1
1 The Saint left Seville June 4, 1576, attended by her brother Don
Lorenzo. Fra Gregorio Nazianzen, now professed, went with her.
She was in Malagon on the llth, where she was still in the beginning
of July. By order of Fra Jerome she went to Avila, but soon
returned to Toledo, bringing with her as her companion and secretary
the venerable Anne of S. Bartholomew. On the 9th day of August
the Saint was in Toledo, watching the storm that had burst on the
order, and waiting for the calm.
CH. XXVI.] SEVILLE. 571
2. It was not our Lord's pleasure that I should hear
mass even once in the church; the joy of the nuns was ser
iously disturbed by my departure, which they felt much. We
had been together for a year, and had suffered so much, as I
have already said ; but I do not recount here our greatest
troubles. I believe myself that, with the exception of the
foundation in Avila, with which none other is to be compared,
I never had so much to endure anywhere as here, because my
trials were for the most part interior. May His Divine
Majesty grant that He may be always served in this house!
as I trust He will be, for if it be so everything else is as
nothing. His Majesty has begun to draw good souls into
the house. As to those in it whom I took with me, five in
number, I have already said how good they were : that is
only a part of what might be said of them, and that the least.
3. I will speak of the first who entered, because her
story will give you pleasure. She was the daughter of most
pious Christians, her father a highlander. When she was still
a child, about seven years of age, an aunt of hers begged her
mother to let her have her, as she had no children of her
own. She took her home, and must have caressed her and
shown her love for her, as was natural, for certain women
in her service, who, before the child came, had hopes of in
heriting some portion of her property, seeing clearly from the
love shown her that the aunt would leave her the greater
part, agreed together to have her removed out of the way
by a diabolic act, which was, to accuse the child of an intent
to murder the aunt, and of having given some money to one
of them for the purchase of corrosive sublimate. This was
told to the aunt, and as all the three said the same thing she
believed them ; the mother of the child, who is a most excellent
woman, did so also.
4. The mother took the child and carried her home,
thinking that in her she was nurturing a very wicked woman.
Beatriz of the Mother of God — for that is her name — told me
that for more than a year her mother continued to whip
and torture her, and to make her sleep on the bare floor,
because she wanted her to confess so great a wickedness.
When the poor child said she had done no evil, and that she
did not know what corrosive sublimate was, her mother
thought the worse of her, as one possessed of a spirit to hide
her sin. The poor mother was distressed when she saw her
572 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [v;il. XXVI.
thus hardened in her denial, thinking she could never be
reformed. It is strange the child did not accuse herself to
escape such chastisements, but as she was innocent God gave
her strength always to speak the truth.
5. But, as His Majesty helps those who do no wrong,
He chastised two of those women so severely that they seemed
to be mad ; they sent for the child secretly to come to her aunt,
and begged her to forgive them, and unsaid everything now
they were at death's door. The third woman did as much —
she died in childbirth. In a word, all the three died in great
pain : it was a chastisement for that which they had made
the innocent child to suffer. I know all this, not from herself
only, for afterwards her mother, when she saw her a nun,
distressed at the evil treatment she had received at her hands,
recounted it to me with other matters; she had been most
cruelly treated. God permitted the mother, who had no other
child, and who was a very good Christian, to be thus cruel
to her own daughter, whom she loved exceedingly. She is
a most truthful and pious person.
6. When the child was a little more than twelve years
of age she read in some book the life of S. Anne, and conceived
a great devotion to the saints of Mount Carmel, it being said
there that the mother of S. Anne — I think her name was
Merenciana — used to converse often with them. Hence her
devotion to the order of our Lady became so strong that she
made a vow of chastity, and promised to become a Carmelite
nun. Whenever she could she spent many hours alone and
in prayer. God and our Lady gave her great and very special
graces. She wanted to become a nun at once, but durst not
on account of her father and mother; besides, she did not
know where to find the order, which was strange, for, though
there was a monastery of the mitigation in Seville, she never
knew of it till she heard of our monasteries many years
afterwards.
7. When she was old enough to be married her father
and mother considered on whom they should bestow her,
she being still very young. They had now however, no
other child, for her brothers were all dead, and she, the least
cherished, alone remained. She had one brother living when
that affair happened of which I have been speaking, and he had
defended her, saying that the story was not to be believed.
When the marriage was already settled they spoke to her
CH. XXVI.] SEVILLE. 573
about it, thinking that she would make no objection; but she
told them that she had made a vow never to marry, and that
she never would be married even if they were to kill her.
8. Her father and mother took it into their heads that
she had misbehaved herself in some way, and therefore would
not marry : it was a delusion of Satan, or a self-deception
which God permitted to make a martyr of her. So they,
having promised her in marriage, and seeing what an affront
it was to the bridegroom, beat her so much and treated her
so cruelly — even wishing to strangle her, for they used to
throttle her — that it was fortunate they did not kill her. God,
who had chosen her for other things, gave her life. She told
me that at last she scarcely felt the ill-treatment at all, for she
used to think of the sufferings of S. Agnes, which our Lord
brought to her recollection, and that she rejoiced to suffer
something for His sake, and did nothing else but offer up her
wrongs to Him. They thought she would die, for she was
three months in bed unable to move.
9. It seems very strange that a young girl, who never
left her mother's side, and whose father, as I have heard, was
so prudent, could be thought so ill of, for she was always
pious and modest, and so charitable that whatever she could
get she gave away in alms. When our Lord wishes to give
any one the grace to suffer He has many ways of doing so.
Some years after this, however, He made them see the good
ness of their child ; they would then give her what she wanted
for her alms-deeds, and the persecutions were changed into
caresses. Nevertheless, everything was a trial to her because
of her wish to be a nun, and so she lived on, as she told me,
in great distress and sadness of heart.
10. Some thirteen or fourteen years before father Gratian
went to Seville, and when there was no talk of barefooted
Carmelite friars, this happened : — She was with her father and
mother and two women from the neighbourhood when a friar
of our order came in, clad in serge as they are now and bare
footed. They say his countenance was cheerful and venerable,
but he was so old, however, that his beard, which was long,
looked like silver threads; he stood close beside her, and
began to address her in a language which neither she nor any
of the others -understood, and when he had done speaking he
made the sign of the cross over her three times, saying,
"Beatriz, God make thee strong," and went away. While he
5/4 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [di. XXVI.
remained nobody stirred: they were amazed. Her father
asked her who he was. She thought that he knew him.1 They
rose up in haste to look for him, but they saw him no more.
She was greatly consoled herself, and all were amazed, for
what they had seen was the work of God, and in consequence
of it they made much of her, as I have just said. All these
years, I believe fourteen, passed away, she herself always
serving our Lord, and praying Him to fulfil her desire.
11. She was in great distress when the father-master
Fra Jerome Gratian came to the neighbourhood. One day
she went to hear a sermon in one of the churches of Triana —
it was there her father was living — not knowing who the
preacher was to be, and there saw the father-master Gratian
go to receive the benediction. When she saw him in his
habit and barefooted she thought at once of him whom she
had seen before ; the habit was the same, but the age and the
countenance were not, for father Gratian was not yet thirty
years of age. She told me that she almost fainted away in
the excess of her joy, for, though she had heard that there
was a monastery in Triana, she did not know it belonged to
the Carmelites. From that day forth she tried to go to
confession to father Gratian ; it was the will of God, however,
that she should have no little trouble, for she applied to him
as often as twelve times — it might be more or less — but he
never would hear her confession. She was young and
beautiful, for she must have been then not twenty-seven, and
he, being extremely careful, would not have any relations
with persons like her.
12. One day in the church — she too was most careful
herself — a woman asked her what the matter was, for she
was weeping. She said that she had made so many efforts
to speak to that father, who was then hearing confessions, and
all to no purpose. The woman took her to the confessional,
and asked him to hear her confession; and so she made a
general confession to him. He, when he saw so noble a soul,
was greatly comforted himself, and comforted her too by
telling her that Carmelite nuns might be coming, and that he
would make them receive her immediately; and so it came to
1 She admitted in after times to her confessors and others whom
she could trust that it was the great prophet EHas. It was a tradition
in the order also that Beatriz had then a vision of the prophet of
Mount Carmel (Reforma, lib. iii. ch. xxxviii. § 8).
CH. XXVI.] SEVILLE. 575
pass, and the first thing he ordered me to do was to receive
her the first of all, for he was satisfied with her spirit, and
told her so. When we came she took much pains to keep our
arrival from the knowledge of her father and mother, for if
they knew of it she would have had no opportunity of coming
to us. And so, on the very day of the feast of the Most Holy
Trinity, she left the women who used to attend her behind,
for her mother did not go with her to confession, and the
monastery of the Carmelites, where she always confessed, and
to which she gave great alms, as well as her father and mother
for her sake, was at some distance.
13. She had arranged writh a very great servant of God
to take her, and told the women who used to attend her that
the woman with whom she was going out was very well
known in Seville as a great servant of God, given to good
works, and that she would return immediately. They accord
ingly let her take with her the habit and mantle of frieze ;
how she carried them I know not, unless it was her joy that
made everything light. Her only fear was that somebody
might stop her and find out what she was carrying, for she
was walking out in a way most unusual for her. What cannot
the love of God do? She had now no respect of persons, and
thought of nothing but of the possibility of her desire being
frustrated; we opened the door to her at once. I sent word
to her mother, who came as if beside herself, but said that
she saw that God was gracious to her child, and, though
she was distressed because she could not speak to her, yet
she was not immoderately so, as others are ; on the contrary,
she gave us at once very large alms.
14. The bride of Jesus Christ began to rejoice in the
happiness so much desired. She was so humble, and so
pleased with whatever she had to do, that we found some
trouble in taking the broom out of her hands. She who had
been made so much of at home found all her recreation in
hard work. The great happiness she felt caused her to gain
flesh at once, which so struck her father and mother that
they were glad to see her in the monastery.
15. Some two or three months before the time of her
profession, that she might not have so much joy without
suffering, she fell into most grievous temptations ; not because
she was not determined to make her profession, but because
she thought the religious life most hard to bear. She forgot
5/6 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [cil. XXVII.
all the years during which she had suffered so much to gain
the blessing she now had, and Satan tormented her so cruelly
that she could not help herself. Nevertheless, doing violence,
to herself, she conquered him, and in the midst of her torments
made a resolution to be professed.1 Three days before her
profession our Lord, who would not let her strength be tried
any longer, visited and consoled her in a most special way,
and put Satan to flight.
16. She was now so consoled that during those three days
she seemed to be beside herself with joy, and for good reasons
—the grace she had received was great. Within a few days
after she entered the monastery her father died, and her
mother took the habit in the same house, giving to it by
way of alms all she possessed. The mother and child are
living in the greatest joy, edifying all the nuns, and serving
Him wTho has bestowed upon them so great a grace. More
over, a year had not passed by when there came another, very
much against the will of her father and mother. Thus our
Lord gees on, filling this His house with souls so eager to
serve Him that neither the austerities nor the strictness of
enclosure can stand in their way. May He be blessed for
ever and ever! May He be praised for ever and ever! Amen.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE MONASTERY O7 S. JOSEPH IN CARAVACA.
1. WHEN I was in S. Joseph's, Avila, about to depart
for the foundation in Veas, of which I have spoken already,2
with everything settled except the immediate preparations for
1 Beatriz of the Mother of God fell away for an instant, and was
the cause of great sorrow and trouble to the Saint and to the monas
tery of Seville. The confessor of the house was not a prudent man;
the prioress, Mary of S. Joseph, says he was ''ignorant, puzzle-headed,
and inexperienced;" he interfered with the discipline of the house,
and on being checked, complained, and led away some of the nuns
who had been overindulged by his feeble direction. Among those
who failed was Beatriz of the Mother of God, and perhaps the cl.ief
of the faction. She soon saw her errors and repented, living ever
after a most admirable life, which ended in 1623.
2 Ch. xxii.
CH. XXvIJ.] LAKAVACA. 577
the journey, there came to me a special messenger from a lady
who lived in Caravaca, called Doiia Catalina,1 to tell me that
three young women, after hearing a sermon by a father of
the Society of Jesus, had come to her house, determined
never to quit it till a monastery should be built in that place.
It was an act which they must have arranged with that lady,
who is the person who helped them in that foundation. They
were children of the greatest persons in that town.2 One
was the daughter of Rodrigo de Moya, a very great servant
of God, and a man of great prudence. They had money
enough among them for a work like this. They knew what
our Lord had done in the foundation of these monasteries,
having heard of them from the fathers of the Society of
Jesus, who always countenanced and helped us.
2. When I saw the earnestness and fervour of these
souls, who sent so far for the order of our Lady, my devotion
was kindled, and I felt a great wish to further their good
intention. Having ascertained that the place was near Veas,
I took with me more nuns than I was in the habit of doing,
purposing to go thither when the foundation in Veas should
be settled ; for, judging by the letters, I thought we could
not fail in making the arrangement.
3. But my plans were of little use, for our Lord had
decreed otherwise, as I said in the history of the foundation
of Seville.3 They had obtained permission of the council
of the orders, but it was such as made me give it up, though
I had resolved to go thither. The truth is, that when I found
out at Veas where the place was,4 that it was so far away,
and what a labour it would be to visit the nuns, and that
superiors might take it amiss, I was not very willing to go
1 Dona Catalina de Otalora was the wife of the licentiate Munoz,
a member of the council of the Indies and of the council of Castille.
The young ladies were Dona Francisca de Saojosa, a cousin of Dona
Catalina; Dona Francisca de Moya, and Dona Francisca de Tauste
(Ribera, iii. 7). The daughter of Rodrigo de Moya was called Dona
Francisca de Cuellar, as the daughters did not always bear their
father's name. Her mother was Dona Luisa de Avila. She was
twenty-four years old when she took the habit, in 1576, professed in
October, 1577, died in August, 16C5 (Fra Anton of S. Joseph, note to
Lett. 70; but Lett. 47 vol. iii. ed. Doblaclo).
2 Tres donzellas nobles (Rcfonna, lib. iii. ch. xliv. § 1).
8 Ch. xxiv. § 2.
4 Caravaca is in the old kingdom of Murcia, and famous for a
miraculous cross.
578 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [, H. XXVII.
and make that foundation. However, as I had raised certain
expectations, I begged the father Julian of Avila and Antonio
Gaytan to go and see how the matter stood, and to put an
end to it if they should think it right to do so. They found
it had been very much neglected, not by those who were
to become nuns, but by Doiia Catalina, who- was the chief
person concerned in it, and who lodged the young women
in a room by themselves, as if they were already withdrawn
from the world.
4. The nuns were so earnest, especially two of them—
I am speaking of those who were to become nuns — that they
completely won over Julian of Avila and Antonio Gaytan — so
much so that they had the deeds drawn up before they
returned, and came away leaving the nuns in great joy. They
were so pleased themselves with them and the country that
they did nothing else but say so, at the same time admitting
the road was bad. When I saw the matter settled but the
licence delayed, I sent back again the good Antonio Gaytan,
who, out of affection for me, willingly undertook all this
trouble. He and Julian of Avila were very eager about the
foundation ; in truth, we must thank them for this foundation,
for if they had not gone thither and arranged it all I could
have done very little for it. I told him to go and put up the
turn with the grating where they were to take possession,
and where the nuns were to remain till they found a proper
house. He remained, therefore, many days there; it was in
the house of Rodrigo de Moya, who, as I said before, was
the father of one of the young girls, and who had given us
a part of it. He was there many days exceedingly well
pleased, busy with this.
5. When they had obtained the licence, and when I was
about setting out on my journey, I heard that by one of the
clauses thereof the house was to be subject to the com-
mandery, and that the nuns were to yield obedience to the
knights.1 That I could not allow, because it was to be a
The jurisdiction of Caravaca was divided between the knights
and the bishop of Carthagena, at this time Don Gomez Tapeta; but
the Saint did not trouble the bishop, and afterwards, when the vicar-
general of Don Gomez raised some difficulties about the monastery,
the Saint wrote from Seville, February 19, 1576, to Don Rodrigo de
Moya, to tell him that he need not be distressed at the interference
of the vicar-general. The monastery was safe (note of Fra Antonio
on Lett. 70; but Lett. 47 vol. iii. ed. Doblado).
CH. XXVII.] CARAVACA. 579
house of the order of our Lady of Carmel, rind accordingly
they applied for another licence; and here, as in the case
of Veas, they could not get it. But the king now reigning,
Don Philip,1 was so good to me that on my writing to him
he gave orders for the issuing of the licence, so ready is he
to help thos'e religious who, he knows, keep their rule;
for when he had heard of our way of living, in these monas
teries, and of our observance of the primitive rule, he helped
us in everything : and so I earnestly beg of you, my daughters,
always to make special intercessions for his majesty, as we
are doing at present. Then, as another application had
to be made for a licence, I departed for Seville, by order of
the father-provincial,2 who was then, as now, the father-
master Fra Jerome Gratian of the Mother of God, as I said
before; and the poor children continued shut up till the
following New Year's Day. It was in February they had
sent the message to Avila.3 The licence now was very soon
obtained, but, as I was so far away, and in the midst of so
much trouble myself,4 I could not help them, and was very
sorry for them. They wrote to me very often in their great
distress, and I could not bear to keep them in that state any
longer.
6. As it was impossible for me to go myself, both
because of the great distance and because this foundation5
was not yet completely made, the father-master Fra Jerome
1 Philip II., for five years king- of England, as husband of Mary
the queen.
2 Fra Jerome was visitor apostolic of the Carmelites of Andalusia,
and provincial of the barefooted Carmelites, men and women, of the
Reform of S. Teresa in Castille and Andalusia, by delegation of the
nuncio, who gave him the title of provincial since August 3, 1575.
This was the beginning of the separation which afterwards took place
between the friars of the mitigation and those of S. Teresa. Of the
latter Fra Jerome was the first provincial, but that election was made
March 4, 1581 (Re forma, lib. iii. ch. xli. § 2; lib. v. ch. ix. § 5).
5 The Saint was in Valladolid January 4, 1575, on the point of
starting for Avila, where she intended to stay but a day or two, going
thence to Toledo. (See her letter to Don Teutonic, Lett. 54; but
Lett. 4 vol. iv. ed. Doblado.) She must therefore have made a longer
stay in Avila than she intended if the messenger of Dona Catalina
found her there in February, 1575.
This was the dispute between the old friars and those of her
reform. (See below, § 18.)
" Of Seville.
580 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVII.
Gratian, who, as I have said before, • was apostolic visitor
at the time, resolved that the nuns who were intended for
the foundation there, and who were then in S. Joseph's of
Malagon, should go thither, though I could not go with
them.
7. I arranged that the prioress1 should be one, "who I
was confident would do exceedingly well, for she is much
better than I am. Taking with them whatever was necessary,
they departed with two of our fathers of the barefooted
Carmelites, for the father Julian of Avila and Antonio Gaytan
had for some days previously returned to their homes, and
I did not like them to go with them, because the place was
so far off and the weather so bad, for it was now the end of
December. The nuns on their arrival were received with
great joy in the place, particularly by those who were shut
up so closely. The monastery was founded, and the Most
Holy Sacrament carried in on the feast of the Name of Jesus,
1576.2 Two of them took the habit at once; the other was
much given to melancholy, and the evil must have been
increased by her confinement, to say nothing of the closeness
of it and her penances; it was settled that she should return
home with one of her sisters.3
1 Anne of S. Albert. She was sent from Seville, where she was at
this time, and was to take with her from Malagon the nuns whom
the Saint had left there for the foundation in Caravaca. These were
Barbara of the Holy Ghost, sub-prioress; Anne of the Incarnation,
Juana of S. Jerome, and Catherine of the Assumption (Ribcra, iii. 7).
Anne of S. Albert was the daughter of Alonso de Avila and Ana de
Salcedo, born in Malagon, and made her profession in the monastery
there in the year 1569. There are three letters among those of S.
John of the Cross addressed to her as prioress of Carana, and from the
last of them she seems to have been prioress in 1588. (See note of Fra
Anton, of S. Joseph on Lett. 156; but 68 vol. 4 ed. Doblado.)
! "On the first day of the year, which is that of the Circumcision
and of the Name of Jesus, under the patronage of the glorious S.
Joseph" (Re forma de los Descalgos, lib. iii. ch. xliv. § 2).
3 She put on the habit, however, in about two or three months after
this, when Fra Jerome came to visit the house, receiving it at his
hands. The names in religion of the three were, Frances of the
Mother of God, Frances of the Cross, and Frances of S. Joseph
(Ribcra, iii. 7). According to F. Bouix, the latter is the one who left
the monastery for a time, for Ribera says that he gives their names
in religion in the order in which he had given their names in the
world; thus, Francesca de Tauste is Frances of S. Joseph. But Don
CH XXVII.] CARAVACA. 581
8. Behold, my daughters, the judgments of God, and the
obligation we are under to serve Him, seeing that He has
allowed us to persevere and make our profession, and to dwell
for ever in the house of God as daughters of the Virgin.
His Majesty made use of the goodwill of this lady and of her
property, but, at the moment when she was about to enter
on the fruition of that which she had so much desired, her
strength failed her and her low spirits prevailed, on which,
my children, we often lay the blame of our imperfections
and caprices.
9. May His Majesty pour down His grace abundantly
on us, for then nothing will hinder us from advancing ever
more and more in His service, and also protect and defend
us all, so that what has been well begun as it has been His
good pleasure to have made a beginning in such poor women
as we are, may not prove a failure through our weakness.
I implore you in His name, my sisters and my daughters,
to pray to our Lord for this, and let every one of those who
shall hereafter enter look on herself as if the primitive rule
of the order of the Virgin our Lady had its beginning in
her, and never in any way consent to any mitigation of it.
Consider that the door is opened for very great laxity by
very little things, and that the world may come in before
you are aware of it. Remember that what you possess in
peace has been wrought in poverty and toil ; and if you look
deeply into it you will see that most of these houses were
generally founded, not by man, but by the mighty hand of
God, and that His Majesty is most ready to carry on the work
He has begun if we do not hinder Him. Where do you think
a poor woman like myself, under obedience, without a farthing
in the world, or any one to help her, found the means to do
so great a work? My brother, who helped in the foundation
of Seville, had some means, courage, and good dispositions
wherewith to help us, but he was then in the Indies.
10. Behold, my daughters, behold the hand of God:
He did not honour me in this because of my illustrious birth ;
Vicente de la Fuente, from the roll sent to the chapter held in Alcala
in 1581, gives the professions in Caravaca thus: — Frances of the Cross
and Frances of S. Joseph professed October 27, 1577, while the pro
fession of Frances of the Mother of God was made June, 1578. She,
according to Ribera, was Frances de Sarjosa, for she is the first
named by him.
.582 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVII.
in whatever light you may look upon it, you will find it to be
His work. It is not right we should in any ^ way impair it,
even were it to cost us our life, our good name, and our
peace ; still less when we have all these together, for life
is to live in such a way as not to be afraid of death, or of
anything that may happen while it lasts, in the possession
of that continual joy fulness which you now have all of you,
and of this prosperity that never can be greater, consisting
in the utter absence of the fear of poverty, or rather in
the desire of it. Then, is there anything with which you
can compare the peace wherein you live, whether inward
or outward? It is in your power to live and die in it as you
saw them die who have died in these houses. Then, if you
always pray God to further this work, having no confidence
in yourselves — if you put your trust in Him, and are cour
ageous — seeing that His Majesty loves it, He will not withhold
His mercy.
11. Have no fear that you will ever be in want of any
thing; never fail to receive those who come to be nuns merely
because they are without worldly goods, if they are virtuous,
when you are satisfied with their good desires and their
abilities, and they come not simply for a place to live in,
but rather to serve God in greater perfection ; for God, on
the other hand, will give you that twofold which you should
have had with them. I have had great experience in this.
His Majesty knows well that, so far as I can remember, I
never failed to receive one because she was poor, provided
1 was pleased with her in other respects. They are my
witnesses, and they are many, who have been received simply
for God, as you know yourselves. And I can assure you
that my joy was not so great when I received those that
brought much with them as it was when I received those
who came for God's sake alone : on the contrary, I had
fears about the former, while those who were poor cheered
my spirit, and gave me so much pleasure as to make me weep
for joy : that is the truth. Then, if when we had to buy and
build our houses He helped us also therein, why should He
not help us now that we have wherewithal to live? Believe
me, my daughters, you will suffer loss there where you think
you are gaining.
12. When one comes with means, under no obligations
to bestow them on others, who perhaps need them not, it
CH. XXVII.] CARAVACA. 583
is right she should give them to you by way of alms j1 1
confess that if she did otherwise she would show but little
affection for you. Always, however, make her who comes
understand that she must act herein as learned men shall
advise her for the greater service of God, for it would be
a serious evil if we claimed the property of any one that came
to us for any other end but that. We make a much greater
gain — that is, we act in much greater perfection — when she
dees that which is a duty to God, than by receiving anything
she may bring with her, for wre all of us have no aim, and
Gcd grant we may never have, other than the service of
His Majesty in and by everything.
13. Though I am myself a wretched and wicked woman,
I say this to His honour and glory, and that you may have
joy in the way wherein these His houses have been founded —
never in treating about them, never in the doing of anything
that had to be done in relation to them even when I thought
I should not prosper with any of them unless I turned aside
from my intention, would I in any way do, nor have I done
—I am speaking of these foundations — anything whatever,
if I but knew it, that swerved by a hair's breadth from the
will of our Lord, according to the directions of my confessors,
who since I have been thus employed have always been, as
you know, very learned men and great servants of God ; and
I do not remember that I ever even thought of following
any other course.
14. Perhaps I deceive myself — I may have done much
amiss of which I am not aware, and my imperfections may
be innumerable — I am speaking about myself only as I know
myself; our Lord, who is the true judge, knows it; and I, too,
see very clearly that the work was not mine, but God's, who
willed it should be done; and, as it was His own work, He
'The Saint was always willing to admit the poor in their poverty,
but she was inexorable with the wealthy who attempted to place
their children in the monasteries and retained their dowers. In a letter
to the prioress of Seville (Lett. 93, but 65 vol. iii. ed. Doblado) she
forbids the reception of Blanca of Jesus Maria without her dower,
though she was the daughter of Dona Leonor de Velera, who had
given alms to the house when it was in distress. The Saint says
that the father was a man who would never give a farthing if he
could help it (Fra Anton, of S. Joseph). Kis greed may be the
explanation of his wife's conduct in employing others to administer
her alms. (See ch. xxv. § 1, note \)
584 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVII.
helped me, and was thus gracious unto me. I say this on
purpose that you, my children, may learn that you are the
more indebted to Him, and know that the houses have been
founded without wronging anybody to this day. Blessed be
He who has done it all, and quickened the charity of those
who have helped us! May it please His Majesty to protect
us always, and give us His grace, that we may not be
ungrateful for such great mercies! Amen.
15. You have seen already, my daughters, that we had
some hardships to bear, but I believe that I have described
only the least of them, for if they were to be recounted in
detail it would be very wearisome : those of the roads, and
missing them ; of rain and snow, and, more than all, my
scanty health; and once — I know not if I have spoken of it1—
it was our first day's journey from Malagon to Veas — I
happened to be ill of a fever, and in many other ways at the
same time, so that when I considered the length of the
journey, and beheld the state I was in, I thought of Elias,
our father, flying from the face of Jezabel, and said, "Lord,
have I the strength to bear it? Look Thou to it." The
truth is, that when His Majesty saw that I was weak He
delivered me on the instant from the fever and the other
illnesses ; and ever since, whenever I call it to mind, I have
been thinking that it happened so because an ecclesiastic,
a servant of God, came to me at the time; and perhaps it
was so ; at least, I was delivered in a moment from all my
sufferings, outward and inward.
16. When I had my health I bore all my bodily toils with
joy. Then, I had not a little to bear when I had to bear with,
as it was necessary I should in every place, the tempers of
many people, and in leaving behind my daughters and my
sisters, and when I had to go away from one place to another :
that was not, I may tell you, the least of my crosses, for
I love them so much — especially when I considered that I
might never see them again, and saw them sorrowing and
weeping; for, though they are detached from everything
else, God has not given them this kind of detachment, perhaps
that it might be a greater anguish for me ; neither was I
detached from them, though I strove to the utmost of my
power not to show it, and even rebuked them ; but it was
1 The Saint made no allusion to it. See ch. xxii.
CH. XXVII.] CARAVACA. 585
of no use, for the love they have for me is great and real,
as may be clearly seen in many ways.
17. You have also heard that these monasteries were
founded not only with the permission of the most reverend
our father-general, but by an express precept or command
ment subsequently given. This is not all, for he wrote me
to say of the foundation of each house that it gave him the
very greatest pleasure when the foundations I have spoken
of were made. Certainly, the greatest relief to me in all my
troubles was to see the joy they gave to him, for I felt that
I was pleasing our Lord when I was pleasing him, for he is
my superior, and, besides, I have a great affection for him.
18. Either His Majesty was pleased to give me some
rest at last, or Satan was vexed because so many houses were
founded for the service of our Lord. It is well known that
it was not the will of our father-general, for on my begging
him not to order me to found any more houses he wrote back
that he would not do so, because his desire was that I should
found as many houses as I had hairs on my head.1 Before
I came away from Seville there was brought to me from the
general-chapter,2 which I think ought to have highly con
sidered the increase of the order, a decree, made by the
deputies assembled, enjoining me not only to make no more
foundations, but also, on no account whatever, to leave the
house I should choose to dwell in, which was something like
sending me to prison,3 for there are no nuns whom the provin-
1 See Letter 210, addressed to F. Hernandez, S. J., October 4,
1578; Lett 7 vol. 3 ed. Doblado. In that letter the Saint says, "Our
father-general, in a letter written to me when I had begged him not
to bid me make any more foundations, says that he wished me to
found as many monasteries as I had hairs on my head."
2 A general chapter of the order was held in Piacenza May 22,
1575, Whitsunday, in which the general published the brief of Gregory
XIII. by which the powers of the Dominican visitors were recalled.
At the same time a decree was made for the supression of the houses
in Andalusia which were founded for the observance of the primitive
rule, and Fra Jerome Tostado of Portugal was appointed by the
general to execute the decree (Reforma de los Descalqos, lib. iii. c. xl.
§§ 1, 5).
3 The general ordered S. Teresa to choose some one monastery
to reside in for the future, which she was not to leave without per
mission. The order was sent to the provincial of Castille, Fra Angel
de Salazar, who transmitted it to Fra Miguel de Ulloa in Seville. The
586 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVII.
cial may not, when necessary for the good of the order, send
from one place to another — I mean, from one monastery to
another. And the most grievous thing was this — our father-
general was displeased with me, certainly not with reason,
but on account of the reports of persons who had given way
to passion ; and this it was that gave me pain. At the same
time two other and very grave charges were brought against
me, but they were not true.1
19. I tell you, my sisters, that you may behold the
compassion of our Lord, and that His Majesty ceases not to
defend those who desire to serve Him, that this not only did
not distress me, but gave me such unexpected joy that I could
not control it, so that I am not surprised at what King
David did before the ark of our Lord ;2 I wished then to do
nothing else, for my joy was such that I could not hide it.
latter kept it by him, and did not make it known to the Saint till
after he had learned that she was aware it had come into his hands.
As it was close upon Christmas when Fra Miguel communciated the
order to S. Teresa, her immediate superior told her that the general
did not mean to put her to the grave inconvenience of travelling in
the depth of winter, and charged her to remain in Seville for the
present. Fra Jerome, moreover, had the right to do so, even if the
general had meant to have the order executed at once, for he was
the delegate of the nuncio, and his powers were too high for the
general to touch: he was, in fact, above the general himself. The
Saint gives an account of her conduct to the general, in a letter
written early in the year 1576, and, as a proof of her obedience and
reverence for him, tells him that, though the provincial of the order
had told her she might appeal to His Holiness against his decree,
she would obey the general and seek no relief, but submit herself to
his rule. (Lett 71; but 13 vol. i. ed. Doblado.)
1 One of the charges was, that she travelled in a way unbecoming
poverty from Seville to Toledo, when she returned into her monastery
in the latter place. But she travelled with her brother, no doubt
at his expense, and his generosity was made a crime in her (De la
Puente). It is probable enough that Don Lorenzo travelled in some
state, for the Saint, shortly after this journey, tells him that he was
much inclined to pomp, and that he showed it. (See Avisos at the
end of Letter 79, published in its integrity for the first time by Don
Vicente.) The other charge may have been that which Yepes refers
to in his letter to Fra Luis de Leon, namely, that the last thing to
be said of any woman was said of the Saint — lo ultimo que de tin a
mujcr se puede decir. The letter is printed by Don Vicente, vol. i.
p. 567.
2 2 Kings vi. 14.
CH. XXVII.] CARAVACA. 587
What the reason was I know not, for in the other slanders
and contradictions nothing of the kind happened ; one at
least of the charges was most serious.1 The prohibition to
make foundations, if it had not been for the displeasure of
the most reverend general, would have been a great comfort
to me, and what I often longed for was that I might end my
life in peace; however, they who obtained that prohibition
were not thinking of this, for they thought they were causing
me the greatest affliction in the world; they had probably
other good intentions.
20. Sometimes, too, I had a joy in the contradictions and
reproaches I met with while employed in making these found
ations ; some persons were against me with good intentions,
others had other reasons, but I do not remember that I ever
felt so great a joy as this in any trouble that befell me.2 I
confess that at any other time any one of the three trials
that came upon me all at once would have been trial enough
for me. I believe that my chief source of joy lay in this —
I thought that, as creatures thus repaid me, I must have
pleased my Creator, for I know that he who will take his
pleasure in the things of earth or in the praise of men
will be greatly deceived, to say nothing of the little he may
gain by it ; men are of one opinion to-day, of another to
morrow ; that of which they once speak well they soon revile.
1 The Saint was accused of heresy, and this is probably what she
refers to. A postulant was received of whom her friends spoke
highly, and the Saint observed that they would lose their credit if
she did not work miracles. She was given to melancholy, and the
Saint, finding her obstinate, sent' her away with another novice who
had made up her mind to follow her. The poor woman denounced
S. Teresa to the Inquisition, and a priest whom the Saint had allowed
to hear her confessions, believing her story, helped to bring the
officials of the Inquisition into the monastery. Accordingly one
morning Fra Jerome, going to see the Saint, found the house sur
rounded with the men of the holy office, with others inside searching
the monastery, and the poor priest at the corner of the street waiting
to see all the nuns carried to prison. Fra Jerome, in the greatest
alarm, as we learn from Lett. 116 (Lett. 22 vol. iv. ed. Doblado),
went in and found the Saint cheerful and joyous. The inquisitors,
satisfied with their search, severely reprimanded the poor priest, and
begged the father Rodrigo Alvarez, S. ]., to examine the spirit of the
Saint. The relation viii. (see Life, p. 381) was written on this occasion
and submitted to the father Alvarez (Reforma de los Descal<;os, lib.
iii. ch. xlvi. and xlvii.).
2 See Life, ch. xxxi. § 13.
588 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVII.
Blessed be Thou, my God and my Lord, who never changes!,
never 1 Amen. Whosoever shall serve Thee to the end shall
live without end in Thy eternity.
21. I began to write the history of these foundations
at the commandment of the father the doctor Ripalda of
the Society of Jesus, as I said when I began ; he was then
rector of the college in Salamanca, and I used to confess to
him. Some of it I wrote when I was sojourning there in the
monastery of the glorious S. Joseph, in the year 1573. I then
refrained from writing because of my many occupations,
and I would not go on with it because I was not then con
fessing to him — he had gone to another part of the country —
and also because it cost me so much toil and labour to write,
though I look on my labour as well bestowed because
always under obedience. When I had made up my mind
to write no more I was ordered to finish the work1 by the
father the commissary apostolic, who is at present the Fra
Jerome Gratian of the Mother of God.
22. I told him how few opportunities I had for writing,
and gave him other reasons which suggested themselves to
me — for I spoke as one whose obedience is miserable — and
that it was also a great burden added to the others I had
to bear; nevertheless he commanded me to finish it by
degrees, or when I could. I have done so, submitting myself
1 The history of the foundation of S. Joseph, Avila, was written by
direction of Fra Garcia of Toledo, and is added to the Life, (see ch.
xxxii). Then she was commanded by father Ripalda, S. J., to write
the history of the other foundations, which she began to do in Sala
manca on the feast of S. Bartholomew, 1573 (prol. § 5), and brought it
down to the history of the foundation in Alba de Tormes; and thus
the first part ends with ch. xx. When she was staying in Toledo, and
the foundations were interrupted by command of the general and the
troubles that came upon the whole order, she was directed by Fra
Jerome to finish the book, and she then added the rest, beginning
with ch. xxi. down to the end of ch. xxii. (Reforma de los Descalqos,
lib. v. ch. xxxvii. §§ 4, 5). Fra Jerome laid his command upon her
soon after her arrival in Toledo, for on the 24th of July, 1576, she
writes to her brother, Don Lorenzo, to send her the papers she had
already written (see Lett. 79). This part of that letter had been omitted
in all editions previous to that of Don Vicente; it corresponds with
Lett. 49 vol. ii. ed. Doblado. And in another letter, dated October 5,
1576, published in its integrity for the first time by Bouix (vol. ii. p.
479), and from him by Don Vicente (vol. ii. p. 342), the Saint says
she was then going to begin to write, our Lord having told her
that it would be to the profit of many souls.
NINETEENTH FOUNDATION — MONASTERY OF
Hye Hoys del
1. Crlstofero Vela, archbishop of Burgos, related to St. Teresa. 2. Caterina rte
Folosa, foundress of the convent, and her seven children, all members of the
Carmelite order. (After a print.) 3. The Holy Christ of Burgos. 4. Aiigrustinian
convent and hospital of the Conception. In the foreground a Noria for carrying
water. 5. Hospital of the Conception, the doorway. 6. Dtscalced Carmelite monas
tery. On the right, St. Luke's church. Fishing with nets. Water sellers. Itinerant
norseshoer. 7. View of monastery from the rear; in the foreground, caravan of
ST. JOSEPH AND ST. ANNE AT BURGOS.
XXV.
uges, P Raoux, Sc
mules carrying wheat. 8. In commemo ration of a flood; fresco painting in the upper
gallery of the monastery. 9. St. Teresa's well in the convent courtyard. 10. Small
picture representing Our Lord after His Resurrection, which St. Teresa ordered
painted according- to one of her visions, and which she presented to the monastery.
11. Discalced Carmelite monastery. 12. Arms of Cristofero Vela. 13. Arms of the
de Tolosa family. 14. Arms of the Villesas family, patrons of the Discalced
Carmelite monastery. 15. Arm* of the city of Burgros. (See Appendix, note 26.)
CH. XXVIII.] CARAVACA. 589
in everything to those who, finding therein anything amiss,
shall blot it out.
23. I finish to-day, the vigil of S. Eugenius, November
14th, 1576, in the monastery of S. Joseph, Toledo, where
I am staying by the order of the commissary apostolic, Fra
Jerome Gratian of the Mother of God, whom we now have
as the superior of the barefooted Carmelites, men and women,
of the primitive rule, being at the same time visitor of those
who keep the rule of the mitigation in Andalusia, to the
honour and glory of Jesus Christ our Lord, who reigneth
and will reign for ever. Amen.
24. I implore the sisters and brothers who shall read
this, for the love of our Lord, to pray to our Lord for me,
that He would have compassion upon me, deliver me from
the pains of purgatory, and, if I shall merit an entrance
thereinto, let me have the fruition of Himself. As you are
not to see this so long as I live, let me have some advantage
after I am dead from the weariness of writing, and from the
great desire I had while writing to be able to say something
that might be a comfort to you, if it should be thought right
for you to read it.1
CHAPTER XXVIII.
JESUS.
THE FOUNDATION OF VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA.
1. WHEN the foundation in Seville had been made no
other foundations were made for more than four years ; the
reason was that great persecutions2 of the friars and nuns
1 In the original MS. preserved in the Escurial, relation x. is
inserted here, as also in the printed editions prior to that of Don
Vicente.
2 Fra Jerome Tostado was in Barcelona in March, 1576, furnished
with jurisdiction over the whole order in Spain (Lett. 73; Lett. 33 vol.
i. ed. Doblado); and in Madrid, August 5th, he and Fra Jerome
Gratian met. The fathers of the mitigation had held a chapter in
Moraleja May 12th, but into which they summoned three friars only
of the reform; the rest were regarded as excommunicated because
their houses had been founded without the permission of the father
590 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
arose all at once, so that the order was on the brink of ruin,
and, though there had been persecutions enough before, none
had been so severe. Satan showed clearly what he thought
general. Two of the three friars, those from Pastrana and Alcala,
went to the nuncio Ormaneto for advice, who told them to attend the
chapter, but to consent to nothing at variance with their own usages.
The elections were over when the two friars arrived; the chapter
decreed that there should be no distinctions in the order hereafter,
the friars were to live together in the practice of tlie same uses, and
the habits of all were to be alike. In short, the reform of S. Teresa
was to be rooted out. Fra Juan of Jesus, prior of Mancera, spoke for
his brethren, and told the assembled fathers that their decrees would
not be observed in the houses of the reform (Re forma, lib. iii. ch. i.).
Ti.cn, in August, Fra Jerome Tostado, attempted to use his powers as
vicar of the general; but Fra Jerome Gratian confronted him with the
authority of the nuncio, who, representing the Pope, had powers which
the general could not touch. Tostado left for Portugal at the end of
the month, and on September 8, 1576, Fra Jerome Gratian, as visitor
by delegation of the nuncio, held the chapter of Almodovar, and
severed the friars of the reform from those of the mitigation, Fra
Antonio of Jesus being cliosen definitor. This was the answer to the
chapter of Moralcja. The next year, on the death of the nuncio,
Fra Jerome Tostado returned, and, in the words of the chronicler,
"unsheathed the sword of his power in Madrid," by forbidding the
further admission of novices, and commanding the friars of the
reform to be subject to those of tl.e mitigation. He then summoned
all in authority among the reformed to attend him. These for the
most part hid themselves. In September, 1577, S. Teresa, who had
come to Avila in July for the purpose of restoring the monastery of
S. Joseph to the order — it had been founded under the jurisdiction
of the bishop — implored the king, Philip II., to protect the friars
and nuns of the reform. The king placed the matter in the hands of
his council, and thereupon the attorney-general asked Fra Tostado
to show his authority before he proceeded further. There was a
lawsuit in due form, and a conflict of jurisdictions, in which the vicar,
as was to be expected, lost his cause. But the new nuncio was not
afraid of the council; he therefore took up the question, renewed some
of the decrees of the vicar, and forbade further foundations. Never
theless, on the prayers of the friars of the reform, he said that the
prohibition was to be valid only where there were friars of the miti
gation already in possession. He sent for Fra Jerome Gratian, and
asked him to give up his faculties received from the former nuncio,
for it was on these that the friars relied; but Fra Jerome forgot
himself, declined, and went to the king, who told him to refuse
(Re forma, lib. iv. ch. xxv.). The vicar lost his cause November 5, 1577
(the Bollandists believe it was in December, n. 1780), and departed
for Rome (ib. ch. xxviii. § 1), for the cause was lost only by the
intervention of the civil power, and so far the friars of the mitigation
were not yet defeated.
CH. XXVIII.] VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 591
of the blessed beginning which our Lord had made, and that
he felt it to be His work, seeing that it prospered. The friars
suffered much, especially the foremost among them, from the
false accusations brought against them, and the opposition
made to them by nearly all the fathers of the mitigation.
The most reverend our father-general, though a most saintly
man, and though he had given authority for the foundation
of all the monasteries except the first, that of S. Joseph in
Avila, made by authority of the Pope, was so influenced by
the fathers of the mitigation that he would allow no more
friars of the primitive observance ; nevertheless he was always
friendly to the monasteries of the nuns.
2. Now, because I had helped herein, he was made to
show his displeasure against me, and that was the greatest
trouble I had to bear while making these foundations, and
I had to bear many ; for to give up helping in the furtherance
of this work, which I saw clearly was for the service of our
Lord and the advancement of our order, men of the highest
learning, to whom I confessed, and by whom I was advised,
would not allow me ; and then to go against what I saw was
the will of my superior was a very death, for, beside my
obligation as his subject, I had a most tender affection for
him, and it was justly due to him. The truth is I wished
to please him herein, but I could not, because I was under
visitors apostolic, whom I was bound to obey.
3. A saintly nuncio1 died, who greatly encouraged every
thing that was good, and who therefore had a great respect
for the barefooted friars. Another came,2 whom God seemed
1 See ch. xxiv. § 1 (note 2).
2 Valdemoro, prior of the Carmelites of the mitigation in Avila,
to the great scandal of the city, in 1576, removed S. John of the Cross
and Fra German of S. TIathias from Avila, where they were living
in a small house as confessors .and chaplains of the nuns of the
Incarnation (Lett. 71; Lett. 13 vol. i. ed. Doblado). But the nuncio,
Monsignore Ormaneto, had the friars brought back from Medina,
whither Valdemoro had sent them, and those of the mitigation were
forbidden by him to meddle with the monastery of the Incarnation.
After the death of Ormaneto and the arrival of Monsignore Sega, the
new nuncio, the observant friars took courage, and on the night of
December 3, 1577, seized on the confessors of the nuns, and hurried
them away secretly to prison. S. Teresa appealed to Philip II. for
help against persons who had no authority over the confessors, or,
at least, who had shown none. (Lett. 170; Lett. 1 vol. iv. ed. Doblado.)
592 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
to have sent for the purpose of trying us by sufferings;1 he
was in some way related to the Pope, and must have been a
great servant of God, but he began by favouring very much
the friars of the mitigation.2 The information he received
from them concerning us convinced him that it was not right
Fra Fernando Maldonado, prior of Toledo, had done this act of wrong,
and it was the more reprehensible because the nuncio, Monsignore
Sega, himself had, if unwillingly, given orders not to interfere with
S. John of the Cross (Reforma, lib. iv. c. xxvii. § 2, 3). Fra Fernando
acted under the orders of Fra Jerome Tostado, the vicar, and took
S. John of the Cross with him to Toledo, where he shut him up in a
narrow cell, into which the light entered only by a loophole, where his
food was bread and water; the whole community gave him the
discipline, at first every night, later on thrice in the week, and towards
the end of his captivity on Fridays only. S. Teresa said she would
rather see him in the hands of the Moors than in those of the friars
of the mitigation. (Lett. 170 and Lett. 173; Lett. 77 vol. iii. ed.
Doblado.) The king could give but little help, for the friars of the
mitigation, however harsh and mistaken, were within their rights,
and the authority of the nuncio was on their side.
1 In October, 1577, the nuns of the Incarnation in Avila elected S.
Teresa their prioress. Some of the nuns opposed to the Saint appealed
against the election to Fra Juan Gutierrez, the provincial. He came
to the monastery, by orders from Fra Jerome Tostado, as he said,
and, ignoring the election, summoned the nuns to elect a prioress.
They obeyed him, and S. Teresa was chosen (Reforma, lib. iv. c. xxvi.
§ 4). Fifty-five nuns voted for her, but the provincial rejected the
votes, and declared those who gave them excommunicated. He
came back another day, and summoned the nuns to elect a prioress.
He was told by them that they had made an election, and when they
were told by him they were excommunicated forty-four nuns elected
Anne of Toledo, but the others said they would obey her only as the
deputy of the prioress. That election was confirmed by Fra Jerome
Tostado. (Lett. 166; Lett. 76 vol. iii. ed. Doblado.) The nuns were
for fifty days not allowed to hear mass or communicate with any out
side the monastery, and the latter prohibition was in force so late as
January 16, 1578. (Lett. 178; Lett 3 vol. i. ed. Doblado.) This election
added to the trouble of the Saint, and made both the friars of the miti
gation and the nuncio very angry with her.
2 Monsignore Philip Sega, bishop of Ripa Transona at this time,
translated the next year to Piacenza, a most learned and admirable
prelate, but unhappily very much under the influence of the Carmelites
of the mitigation, and ill disposed towards the Saint (Reforma de los
Descalqos, lib. iv. c. xxii. § 2). The Bollandists, n. 761, say of him,
"Optime ac sanctissime gestis conspicuum," and that he was made
cardinal by Innocent IX. He was appointed nuncio in Spain before
the death of Ormaneto (Bollandists, n. 756).
CH. XXVIII.] VILLANUEVA DF LA JARA. 593
to go on with what we had begun, and so he began to carry
out his purpose with the very greatest severity, censuring,
imprisoning, and banishing1 those who he thought might be
able to withstand him.
4. They who had most to suffer were the father Fra
Antonio of Jesus, who began the first monastery of the bare
footed Carmelites, and the father Fra Jerome Gratian, whom
the late nuncio had made visitor apostolic of those of the
mitigation : against him and the father Mariano of S. Benedict
his displeasure was great.2 I have already said who those
fathers were in writing of the previous foundations : others,
too, of the more grave fathers he put in penance, though
not so severely. Upon these he laid strict injunctions that
they were to meddle with none of our affairs. It was plain
1 Fra Antonio of Jesus, now that Fra Jerome had resigned his
authority, took upon himself, as the definitor elected in the chapter
of Almodovar held in August, 1576, with the sanction of the late
nuncio, to call another chapter of Almodovar, October 9, 1578. It is
true he had the advice of lawyers. To the chapter came, among
others, S. John of the Cross, who had miraculously escaped out of
prison. He, however, protested against the proceedings, but was
overruled. The friars erected the reform into a separate province,
and chose Fra Antonio as their provincial. Fra Juan of Jesus arrived
before the fathers separated, and urged upon them the illegality of
what they had done, but they shut him in a cell for a month lest he
should convince others of their wrong. They chose two fathers to
go to Rome to obtain the papal sanction. One of them, Fra Pedro
of the Angels, was told by S. John of the Cross, "You are going shoe
less to Rome, but you will return shod," as in fact he did, for he
returned to the mitigation, notwithstanding the extreme austerity
of his life among the reformed. The friars kept their doings secret for
a while, but it was necessary to let the nuncio know what they had
done. He very naturally was angry, and ordered the fathers to
retire into different monasteries. Fra Antonio, imprisoned at first in
Madrid, was sent to Roda; and this is the banishment to which the
Saint refers (Rcforma de los Descalqos, lib. iv. c. xxxi. xxxii. xxxiii.
§ 1). The Saint herself begged Fra Jerome, in a letter, April 15, 1578,
to remain quiet, and abstain from attempting to do what it was not
lawful for them to meddle with, and advised recourse straightway
to the general of the order or to the Pope himself (Lett. 188; Lett. 22
vol. i. ed. Doblado).
a He was sent at first to Atocha of the Dominicans, but, as the king
had a great affection for him, and might probably wish to see him,
the nuncio removed him to Pastrana, probably at the end of the year
for he was in Madrid November 13, 1578 (Re forma de los Descalqos, lib.
iv. c. xxxiii. § 1, and c. xxxiv. § 8, ad fin.}.
594 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
that all this came from God, and that His Majesty allowed
it for a greater good, and for the clearer manifestation of
the goodness of these fathers, as indeed it was. He made a
father of the mitigation our superior, who was to visit our
monasteries of nuns and friars.1 If he had found what he
expected we should have been in serious straits, and we had
accordingly very much to suffer, as will be told by one who
is more able than I am to write. I do but touch the matter,
that the nuns who shall come after us may know how great
are their obligations to make progress in perfection when
they find that made easy to them which has cost so much
to us who are now alive. Some of them suffered in those
days from false accusations, which distressed me much more
than anything I had to suffer myself; for that, on the con
trary, was a great delight to me. I considered myself as the
cause of the whole tempest, and if they had thrown me
into the sea with Jonas the storm would have ceased.2
1 lie appointed Fra Juan Gutierrez de la Madalena and Fra Diego
de Cardenas, provincials respectively of Castille and Andalusia, with
Fra Angel de Salazar, prior of Valladolid, all of the mitigated ob
servance, to be visitors of the friars and nuns founded by S. Teresa,
and gave them power to bring them back to the old usages of the
order. The decree was signed October 16, 1578 (Reforma de los
Descalgos, lib. iv. c. xxxvii. § 3).
2 When Fra Jerome Tostado was defeated by the council, the
nuncio took the cause into his own hands, and commissioned friars
of the mitigation to visit the houses of the reformed, revoking, as he
had a right to do, July 22 (Fra Anton, of S. Joseph's note to Lett. 196;
Lett. 94 vol. ii. ed. Doblado), the powers granted by the late nuncio
to Fra Jerome of the Mother of God. In August, 1578, the visitors,
who were two fathers of the province of Andalusia, Suarez and Coria
— they had come to Madrid, July 10 — went to Pastrana to receive the
submission of Fra Antonio, Fra Jerome, and Fra Mariano. For a
moment the whole reform of S. Teresa was in imminent danger, for
there were thoughts of resistance. Fra Jerome happily took counsel
of a holy lay brother, who advised absolute obedience. The advice
was taken, as the friars yielded to the visitors, and resigned into their
hands the faculties received from the late nuncio. The three fathers
already named went to Madrid and humbled themselves before the
new nuncio. He, however, by way of penance, forbidding them to
hear or say mass or to communicate with anybody, relegated them to
certain religious houses; Fra Antonio to that of the barefooted
Franciscans, Mariano to Atocha of the Dominicans, and Fra Jerome
to the Carmel of Madrid. The king's council at the same time had
ordered all the decrees of the nuncio to be suppressed by the civil
power, and the nuncio when he heard of it believed that the friars
CH. XXVIII.] VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 595
Praised be God, who helps the truth, and so He did
at this time ; for, as soon as our Catholic king Don Philip
knew what was going on, and learnt how the barefooted
Carmelites lived and kept their rule, he took our cause into
his own hands, and would have the nuncio not to be the sole
judge of it, but assigned four grave persons, three of whom
were religious, to be his assistants, in order that justice might
be really done us.1
were not sincere in their submission; hence the severity with which
he treated the three friars. The nuncio sent for Fra Juan of Jesus,
to whom he spoke with great harshness of S. Teresa herself. These
were his words: — "A restless gadabout woman — fcmina inquieta, anda-
riega — disobedient and stubborn, who, under the cloak of devotion,
invented wicked opinions, going about breaking enclosure, contrary
to the decree of the Council of Trent and the orders of her superiors,
teaching as if she were a doctor, in contempt of the teaching of S.
Paul, who commanded women not to teach" (Re forma de los Descalqos,
lib. iv. ch. xxviii. xxx. § 2).
1 Don Luis Hurtado, de Mendoza, count of Tendilla, pleaded for
the friars with the nuncio, and, forgetting himself, used unbecoming
language. Quitting the presence of the nuncio, he went to Chumazero,
the attorney-general, whom he persuaded to use the civil courts in
defence of the friars. The issue was a decree of the council, sus
pending the execution of the orders of the nuncio till the friars of the
reform had a hearing. Copies of this decree were sent to the monas
teries, but all of them, one only excepted, that of Granada, declined the
king's protection in that form, and submitted to the nuncio. Granada
had been founded under difficulties, and greatly befriended by the
count; three of the fathers, however, left the house and made their
submission to the vicar provincial of the observants (Reforma, lib.
iv. ch. xxxiii. § 4). The nuncio complained of the count's behavior to
the king, who disapproved, offered to rebuke the count, and ordered
the president of the council, Don Mauricio de Pazos, bishop elect of
Avila, to convey his displeasure to him. The president wrote to him,
for he had left Madrid, and received a reply explaining his conduct.
The letter was shown to the king, who was satisfied, and requested
Don Mauricio to send it to the nuncio, but not to let him know that
he had seen it. On his return to Madrid the count called on the
nuncio, and again pleaded, but in courteous language, the cause of the
persecuted friars, who he said were, in the opinion of all men, more
worthy of encouragement than of the treatment hitherto received by
them. The nuncio, who was in good faith, and who firmly believed
all he had heard against them, to!d the count he should be glad to
have anybody whom the king might appoint as his assistants in the
process, for he had no interest to serve but that of justice. The
c~unt asked him to put his offer in writing; the nuncio did so at once,
and the count took away the paper, which was immediately sent to
596 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
5. One of these was the father master Fra Pedro Fernan
dez, a man of most saintly life, very learned and able. He had
been apostolic commissary and visitor of the fathers of the
mitigation of the province of Castille, and we also of the primi
tive rule were subject to him. He knew well and truly how
both the one and the other were living, for we all wished
for nothing but the making known our way of life. Then,
when I saw that the king had named him, I looked on the
matter as settled,1 as, by the goodness of God, it is. May
His Majesty grant it to be for His honour and glory ! Though
the noblemen of the realm and the bishops who took great
pains to put the truth before the nuncio were many in number,
yet it would all have been to little purpose if God had not
made use of the king.
6. We are under very great obligations, my sisters,
all of us, to remember him in our prayers to our Lord, together
with those2 who undertook His cause and that of our Lady the
Virgin, and so I earnestly recommend you to do so. You
the king. Philip II. was pleased, and appointed his chaplain Don
Luis Manrique, his preacher the Augustinian friar Lorencio de Villa-
vicencis, the two Dominicans, Fra Hernando del Castillo (also a royal
preacher) and Fra Pedro Fernandez, provincial of Castille (Reforma
de los Descalqos, lib. iv. ch. xxxvi.).
1 Fra Pedro Fernandez had made his former visitations in great
humility and charity, travelling on foot. When he was making the
visit of Pastrana he lived with the friars and observed their rule. It
is, therefore, not to be wondered at that S. Teresa trusted him
(De la Fuente}.
2 The assessors found the nuncio when they met, April 1, 1579,
under the dominion of prejudice, and could not prevail upon him to
hear anything in defence of the friars, whom he honestly believed
to be what their adversaries described. Therefore they called for all
the papers he had received, and these were produced, for the nuncio
felt that they would amply justify his previous acts. They then
called his attention to the fact that there was nothing in them but
accusations without a shadow of proof. The nuncio saw at once that
he had been misled, and that he had read the papers in the light of
the wrong information given him by the Italian friars before he left
Rome, who probably were themselves innocently deceived. He with
drew the faculties he had given to the visitors who had dealt so
ruthlessly with their brethren, and appointed Fra Angel de Salazar
visitor, with strict orders to save the reform and release it from all
subjection to the friars of the observance. The faculties of Fra Angel
de Salazar were signed April 1, 1579 (Reforma de los Descalqos, lib. iv.
ch. xxxvii. § 1 — 3).
CH. XXVIII.] VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 597
will understand now, my sisters, what opportunity there
was for making foundations: we were all intent on prayer
and penance without ceasing, begging God to prosper our
foundations already made, if they were for His service.
7. In the beginning of these great troubles, which thus
briefly told may seem to you slight, and which long endured
were heavy, there came to me in Toledo in the year 1576,
whither I had gone from making the foundation in Seville,1 an
ecclesiastic from Villanueva de la Jara with letters from the
municipality. The purport was to arrange with me for the
receiving into a monastery nine women,2 who were living
together in a hermitage of the glorious S. Anne, which was
in the neighbourhood. They had lived some years in a small
house close by it, and in such recollectedness and holiness
that the whole population was moved to make an effort to
fulfil their desire, which was that of being nuns. I received
a letter also from a doctor, the parish priest of the place,
Augustin de Ervias,3 a learned and good man, and it was
his great goodness that made him help, so far as he could,
in this holy work.
8. As for myself I thought it was wholly out of the
question that I should accept the monastery, for these reasons :
— 1. Because they whom I was to accept were so many,
and because I considered it would be a very difficult thing
to train in our way those who had been accustomed to live
in their own. 2. Because they had scarcely any means of
subsistence, and the place has hardly more than a thousand
1 Immediately on her arrival in Toledo, in the month of June, 1576
(.Yepes, ii. 29).
3 Four young ladies went to see Dona Catalina de Cardona in her
penance in the desert, and were so moved of God at the sight that they
wished to follow her example. That seemed beyond their strength,
and through their brother, a priest, they obtained the advice of Don
Juan de Rojas, then parish priest of Villanueva de la Jara. By his
direction they lived together as religious, and soon after a widow with
four daughters, knowing of their way of life, came and joined them.
They sent word of all this to Dona Catalina in the desert about the
year 1572, who comforted them by telling them that they were to be
the beginning of a house of Carmel of the reform. The municipality
gave them the hermitage (Re forma de los Descalqos, lib. v. ch. iii. §§
2, 3).
* Don Augustin had been canon of Cuenca; wearied of that dignity,
he exchanged it for the parish church of Villanueva, and Don Juan,
mentioned in the foregoing note, became canon of Cuenca (Ibid. § 4).
598 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
inhabitants, which would furnish but scanty help to those
who have to live on alms : though the municipality did offer
to maintain them, I did not think that was to be relied on.
3. They had no house. 4. They were far away from the other
monasteries. And, though I was told they were very good,
yet as I had not seen them I could not know whether they
had those gifts which we claim for our monasteries, and
so I made up my mind to a thorough refusal.
9. To do this I must first speak to my confessor, the
doctor Velasquez, canon and professor in Toledo,1 a most
learned and excellent man, now bishop of Osma ; for I am
in the habit of never doing anything of my own will, but
only at the will of persons such as he is. When he saw the
letters and understood the matter he bade me not to refuse,
but to answer kindly ; for if God made so many hearts agree
together on a thing it was plain He intended to be served
thereby. I did so, for I neither accepted nor yet refused
absolutely. Time passed on in importuning me and in search
ing out those who might persuade me to accept, till this year
1580, I all the while thinking it folly to do so. When I made
any reply I never could reply altogether unfavourably.
10. The father Fra Antonio of Jesus happened to come
to the monastery of our Lady of Succour, which lies three
leagues from the town of Villanueva, there to finish the term
of his banishment.2 He used to go and preach there, and the
prior of the monastery, who at this time is the father Fra
Gabriel of the Assumption,3 a most prudent man and servant
1 See below, ch. xxx. § 1, note.
2 See § 3 above. The nuncio confined Fra Antonio at first in the
barefooted Franciscan monastery of S. Bernardin in Madrid, together
with Fra Gabriel of the Assumption. But, as the latter was wanted in
his monastery of Roda, the nuncio sent him back, and with him Fra
Antonio, after a detention of some weeks in Madrid. This was in the
year 1578 (Reforma de los Descalqos, lib. iv. ch. xxxiii. § 1, and lib. v.
ch. iii. § 5).
3 Fra Gabriel of the Assumption was a native of Pastrana; his
father Juan de Buencuchillo and his mother Ana Hernandez Ruiz were
persons of great consideration in the town. Fra Gabriel was about to
be married, but gave up the world, moved by our Lord, at the ceremony
of taking the habit by Mariano of S. Benedict and Juan de la Miseria,
in the chapel of Ruy Gomez, in 1569 (see ch. xvii. § 13). In the
octave of the Assumption of the same year he took the habit himself,
being the third novice who left the world for the reform of S. Teresa.
CH. XXVIII. J VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 599
of God, went also frequently to the same place, for they were
friends of doctor Ervias, and began an acquaintance with these
saintly sisters. Attracted by their goodness, and persuaded
by the people and the doctor, they took up the matter as if
it was their own, and began to persuade me, writing very
earnest letters ; and when I was in S. Joseph's in Malagon,
which is twenty-six leagues and further from Villanueva, the
father prior himself came to speak to me on the subject.
He told me how it could be done, and that, the monastery
once founded, the doctor Ervias would endow it with three
hundred ducats a year out of the revenues of the living he
held; that leave to do so could be had from Rome.1
11. This seemed to me very uncertain, for I thought it
might fail us after the foundation was made, yet with the
little which the sisters possessed it might be well enough, and
so I gave many reasons, and in my opinion they were suffi
cient, to the father prior, to make him see that it would
never do to accept the monastery; I said further that he must
look well to it, he and father Antonio; that I left it on their
conscience, thinking that what I had told them was enough
to stop the matter. When he had left I reflected on his
great earnestness, and thought he might prevail on Fra Angel
de Salazar, our present superior, to accept the monastery;
and so I wrote to Fra Angel immediately, begging him not
to grant his permission, telling him my reasons at the same
time. He wrote to me afterwards to say he would not have
granted it unless I wished it myself.
12. Six weeks, perhaps more passed away; when
I was now thinking I had put a stop to it they sent me a
messenger with very pressing letters from the two fathers, as
well as from the municipality, by which they bound themselves
to furnish whatever was necessary ; doctor Ervias, too, under
taking to perform what I spoke of before. My dread of
receiving these sisters was very great; I thought they would
be a faction banded together against the sisters whom I
He was prior of La Roda during the troubles, and died in 1584, two
years after the death of the Saint (Reforma, lib. ii. ch. xxviii. § 9; ch.
xxxvii. § 6; and lib. vi. ch. xxxiii.).
1 This offer of doctor Ervias was made in 1580, when the troubles
of the order were nearly over. Fra Antonio had accompanied the prior
to Malagon, to press the matter on the Saint (Reforma, lib. v. ch. iii.
§ 5).
600 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
might take thither, as it usually happens, and also because
I saw no certain means of maintenance for them, for that
which was offered was not such as I was bound to accept:
so I was in great doubt. Afterwards I saw it was the work
of Satan, for, though our Lord had given me courage, I was
then so faint of heart that I seemed to have no trust in God
at all. The prayers, however, of those blessed souls prevailed.
13. One day after communion, while I was commending
the matter to God, as I was often doing — for the reason why
I answered favourably before was the fear I had I might
be hindering the progress of some souls, for my desire ever
is to help in any way to advance the glory of our Lord and
to increase the number of His servants — His Majesty rebuked
me severely, saying, "Where was the treasury that supplied
the means for the foundations already made?" I was to
accept the house without any misgiving: it would be greatly
to His honour and the progress of souls. So mighty are the
words of God, they not only enter the understanding, but
also enlighten it to see the truth and make the will ready
to act: so it was with me, for I was not only glad to accept
the monastery, but felt that I had been to blame for holding
back so long, and clinging so much to human considerations,
seeing that His Majesty had done so much for our holy
order in ways undiscoverable by reason.
14. Having resolved to accept the foundation, I thought
it right to go thither myself with the nuns who were to remain
there, and that for many reasons which suggested themselves,
though very much against my inclination, for I was very ill
when I came to Malagon,1 and was so still. But, thinking
1 should please our Lord by going, I wrote to the superior
in order that he might command as he should judge best.
He sent the licence for the foundation, with an order for me
to go there myself, and to take with me the nuns I preferred,2
1 The Saint had arrived in Malagon November 25, 1579. She had
gone from Toledo to Avila in July, 1577, where she remained in the
monastery of S. Joseph, given to the order by her during the perse
cution, till April 25, 1579, when peace was restored. She now visited
the monasteries and consolidated her work, which had been grievously
threatened, and in some places shattered, by the oppressive rule of the
fathers of the mitigation.
2 The Saint, writing to Mother Mary of S. Joseph, prioress of
Seville, February 1, 1580, says that Fra Angel de Salazar had sent the
permission five days before, i. e. January 28th, and that she meant to
CH. XXVIII.] VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 601
which made me very anxious because they would have to live
with those who were there already. Earnestly commending
the matter to our Lord, I took two nuns out of the monastery
of S. Joseph in Toledo, one of whom was to be prioress, and
two out of that of Malagon, one to be sub-prioress ; and, as
we had prayed so much to our Lord, the choice could not have
been better, which gave me no slight pleasure, for in the
foundations begun with nuns only from our monasteries
everything falls happily into its own place.1
15. The father Fra Antonio of Jesus and the father Fra
Gabriel of the Assumption came to fetch us.2 The city
having furnished everything, we left Malagon on the Saturday
before Lent, February 13th, 1580. It was the pleasure of
God to send us such fine weather, and to me such health
that I seemed as if I had never been ill. I was amazed, and
considered how important it is for us never to think of our
own infirmities when we are employed in the service of our
Lord, whatever tire difficulties before us may be, seeing that
He is able to make the weak strong and the sickly healthy ;
and should He not do so it will be better for our soul if we
suffer and forget ourselves with our eyes fixed on His honour
and glory. Why are life and health given us but to be lost
for so grand a King and Lord? Believe me, my sisters, no
harm will ever befall you if you travel on this road.
16. I confess myself that my wickedness and weakness
have put me very often in fear and doubt, but I cannot call
to mind any occasion since our Lord gave me the habit of a
barefooted Carmelite, nor for some years before, in which,
take with her as sub-prioress Elvira of San Angelo, professed in Mala
gon; that the prioress was to be from Toledo, but she was then in
doubt whom she should choose (Lett. 272; Lett 63 vol. i. ed. Doblado).
1 The Saint had a general procession in the monastery to obtain
light for the purpose of choosing the nuns. With the sister Elvira
she took Ana of S. Augustin, and then, going with them and Anne of
£5. Bartholomew, together with the friars who came for her, to Toledo,
sne"teak__frojiL - that monastery Maria of the Martyrs — not Anne of
the Mother of God, as Ribera relates — and Constance of the Cross
(Re forma de los Dcscalcos, lib. v. ch. iii. § 6).
2 The Saint, in a letter to Fra Jerome of the Mother of God, Feb
ruary 12, 1580, says that the two friars were come that day to Malagon.
and that they had brought with them a carriage and a cart. "Fra
Antonio is come in good health and fat; trouble fattens this year,
I think" (Lett. 276; Lett. 29 vol. iv. ed. Dob.lado).
602 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
of His mere compassion, He did not enable me by His grace
to overcome these temptations, and to venture upon that,
however difficult it might be, which I understood to be for
His greater glory. I see clearly that what I did myself was
very little, but God asks no more than a resolution of this
kind to do everything Himself. May He be blessed and
praised for ever! Amen.
17. We had to go to the monastery of our Lady of
Succour, already spoken of,1 which is three leagues from Valla-
nueva, and halt there to give warning of our arrival, for so it
had been settled, and it was only reasonable I should in every
thing obey the fathers with whom we came. The monastery
stands in a desert and most pleasing solitude, and when we
drew near the friars came forth in great orderliness to receive
their prior ; as they advanced barefooted in their coarse cloaks
of serge they moved all to devotion, and I was melted at the
sight exceedingly, for I thought I was living in the flourishing
age of our holy fathers. On that plain they looked as white
fragrant flowers, and so I believe they are in the eyes of God,
for in my opinion He is most truly served there. They went
into the Church singing Te Dcum in a voice that betrayed
their mortified lives. The church is entered underground
as through a cave, which figured that of our father Elias.
Certainly I went in wi.h so much inward joy that I would
have looked on a much longer journey as profitably made,
though I was very sorry for the death of the saint by whom
our Lord founded the house ; I did not deserve to see her
though I desired it greatly.
18. I think it will not be a waste of time to say some
thing in this place of her life, and how it came to pass that
our Lord would have the monastery founded which, as I
learn, has been of so much advantage to many souls in the
country round about. I do so that you, my sisters, beholding
the penance done by this saint, may see how far we are behind
her, and make efforts to serve our Lord with renewed courage ;
for there is no reason why we should do less than she did,
seeing that we are not sprung from so refined and noble a
race, for, though this be of no consequence, I speak of it
because she once lived in great comfort according to her rank,
for she was a child of the ducal house of Cardona, and was
1 § 10, above.
CH. XXVIII.] VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 603
known as Dona Catalina de Cardona.1 When she had written
to me a certain number of times she signed herself simply
"The Sinner." How she lived before our Lord bestowed on
her graces so great they will tell you who shall write her
life, and more particularly the great things that may be told
of it: lest it should not come to your knowledge, I will tell
you what I have been told by certain persons who have con
versed with her, and who deserve to be believed.
19. This holy woman, while living among great men
and ladies of high rank, was always careful about her soul
and did penance. Her desire of penance, and of withdrawing
into a place where in solitude she could have the fruition
of God and spend herself in doing penance * undisturbed by
others, grew within her exceedingly. She spoke of it to her
confessors, and they would not give their consent; but, as
the world is now so very discreet, and the great works of
God wrought in His saints, men and women, who served Him
in the deserts, are almost forgotten, I am not surprised that
they thought her desire foolish; but, as His Majesty never
fails to further true desires to their end, He so ordered it
that she went to confession to a Franciscan friar, Fra Francis
de Torres,2 whom I knew very well, and look upon as a
saint, who many years ago gave himself with great fervour
1 Her father was Don Ramon de Cardona, descended from the
royal house of Aragon, and her mother was a near relative of the
princess of Salerno, into whose house she was taken on her father's
death, when she was but eight years of age. She had a vision of her
father in purgatory, who told her that his release would be the
fruit of her penance. Thereupon she at once began to mortify and
discipline herself till she obtained her father's deliverance. The prin
cess of Salerno brought her to Spain, and, about the time when S.
Teresa was laying the foundations of her reform, Dona Catalina,
who was four years younger, was moved to begin the life of heroic
austerity in the desert of which the Saint here speaks. When she
was living in Valladolid with the princess she recognised the heretic
in the popular preacher Cazalla when everybody else was running
after him. On the death of the princess she governed the household
for a time of Ruy Gomez, and had also under her care the prince
Don Carlos and his brother Don Juan of Austria. The former she
could not influence, but for the latter she had a most tender affection.
She led now a most austere life, eating no flesh, and fasting four
days in the week (Re forma, lib. iv. ch. i. — v.).
2 She had the advice and encouragement also of S. Peter of
Alcantara (Reforma, lib. iv. ch. iv. § 10).
604 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
to penance and prayer, and he had to endure much persecu
tion. He must have been able, if any, to discern clearly the
graces God bestows on those who strive to be the recipients
of them, and so he told her she was not to hold back, but to
obey the call of His Majesty. I do not know whether these
were his very words or not, but it is the substance of them,
for she immediately executed her purpose.1
20. She made herself known to a hermit2 who was in
Alcala, and begged him to go with her, and never tell any
body. They came to the place where the monastery stands ;
there she found a small cave, which hardly held her, in which
the hermit left her. But what must that love be that brought
her? for she did not think of any means of finding food, nor
of the dangers that might ensue, nor of the evil speaking that
would result from her disappearance. Oh, how deeply must
that holy soul have drank of the wine of God! So filled
therewith was she that she would have none to hinder her in
the fruition of the Bridegroom, so determined to love the
world no more, seeing that she thus ran away from all its
comforts. Let us consider it well, my sisters, and mark
how she conquered it all at one blow ; for, though what you do
is not less than what she did when you enter this holy order
—when you offer your will to God, and promise such lifelong
enclosure — perhaps the first fervours of seme of us pass away,
and we become subject again in some things to our self-love.
May His Divine Majesty grant it be not so, and that we who
already are followers of this holy woman in seeking to escape
from the world, may be very far away from it in everything in
our hearts.
1 Ruy Gomez went to visit an estate he had just purchased, and
Dona Catalina begged she might accompany him and the princess his
wife. Ruy Gomez consented, and from his house in Estremera she
made her way, dressed as a man, to the desert, where she spent her
life in the service of God (Re forma, lib. iv. ch. v. §§ 2, 3).
2 He was a priest, Pifia by name, who, having visited the holy
places of Rome, withdrew into the mountain of Vera Cruz, near Old
Alcala, where he lived as a hermit, much reverenced by all for his
sanctity and the wisdom of his counsel. He had so'me business with
the prince Ruy Gomez, and that brought him into relations with
Dona Catalina, whom he knew before in Madrid. He approved of her
resolution, and then, with Martin Alonzo, a native of La Roda, who
had been chaplain of Ruy Gomez, they set out, she in man's clothing,
before dawn, and made their way to La Roda. They found a cave
for her, and there left her (Re forma, lib. iv. ch. v.).
CH. XXVIII.] VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 605
21. I have heard many details of the great austerity of
her life, and only the least portion thereof can be known ; for
during the many years she dwelt in that solitude with such
earnest desires of doing penance, and having no one to check
her, she must have treated her body fearfully. I will tell
you what some persons have heard her say herself, and among
them the nuns of S. Joseph in Toledo, when she went to
see them. She spoke openly as if they were sisters, and so
she did to other persons; for her simplicity was great, and
her humility must have been so too. As she was one who
knew that she was nothing in herself, she was very far from
vainglory, and had a pleasure in speaking of the graces
which God bestowed upon her, that through them His name
might be praised and glorified. This is a dangerous proceed
ing for those who have not reached her state, for it may seem
in them, at least, to be praise of self. Her openness and holy
simplicity must have saved her from that danger, for I never
heard that this imperfection was ever laid to her charge.
22. She said that she had been eight years in that cave,
living for many days together on the herbs of the field and on
roots ; for when the three loaves were finished which he who
went with her to the cave left behind she had nothing until
a poor shepherd came to the place i1 he supplied her after
wards with bread and meal — that was her food — cakes baked
on embers, and nothing else, of which she took one in three
days. And it is most true, as the friars too who dwell there
are witnesses ; and at a later time, when she was much wasted,
they would make her occasionally eat a pilchard or something
else, when she went about seeking means to found a monas
tery ; but she felt it do her more harm than good. As for
wine, I never heard that she drank any. Her disciplines were
inflicted with a heavy chain, and frequently lasted -two hours
and an hour and a half. The sackcloth she wore was of the
very coarsest kind, as I have learned from a certain person, a
woman who, returning from a pilgrimage, stayed with her
one night, and, while feigning to be asleep, saw her take off
her sackcloth full of blood and wash it.
1 His name was Benitez. He and others knew that a hermit lived
somewhere in that country, for he had been seen in the church of
Fuen Santa, but none knew where he was living. Dona Catalina had
lived three years in the cave before Benitez found her gathering herbs
and roots for her support (Reforma, lib. iv. ch. ix. §§ 1, 2).
606 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
23. What she had to bear from evil spirits was still
worse, as she told the nuns mentioned before; they appeared
to her as huge mastiffs, leaping on her shoulders; at other
times as serpents. She was not in the least afraid of them.
After she had founded the monastery she went still to the
cave, lived and slept in it, and left it only to be present at
the divine office. Before that she went to mass in a monas
tery of the Mercenarians,1 a quarter of a league distant, and
that sometimes on her knees. Her clothing was of kersey,
with a tunic of coarse cloth, and so fashioned that people
thought she was a man. When those years were over during
which she lived so much alone it pleased our Lord to make
her knowrn, and people out of devotion began to visit her in
such crowds as were more than she could bear. She spoke
to all with great charity and love. As time went on the
people thronged around her more and more, and he who could
have speech of her thought much of it. She was so wearied
herself that she said they were killing her. There came a day
when the whole plain was full of carriages. Soon after the
friars were established, there was no help for it but they must
raise her up on high that she might give them her blessing,
and in that way get rid of them. When she had been eight
years in the cave — it was now larger. in size, for those who
came to see her had made it so2 — she had a most serious ill
ness, and thought she should die of it ; and all this took place
in that cave.
24. She began wishing for a monastery of friars in that
place, and did so for some time, not knowing to which order it
should belong. On one occasion our Lord showed her, when
she was in prayer before a crucifix which she always had with
her, a white mantle, and she understood it belonged to the
1 Friars of the order of our Lady de la Merced, founded for the
ransom of captives from the unbelievers by S. Peter Nolasco the
first general, S. Raymond de Penafort, and James I. king of Aragon.
The fourth vow of the friars is, that they will, if necessary, deliver
themselves up to the infidels for the release of prisoners.
2 One night when she was praying she saw that the cave was
crumbling, for the earth had been loosened by the moisture. She
tried to escape, but was overwhelmed by the falling earth. In the
morning she was discovered half buried, and released, and at the
same time were discovered also her fearful instruments of penance.
The people cleared the cave, and in doing so made it larger, and
also protected it against the wet (Reforwa, lib. iv. ch. x. § 5).
CH. XXVIII.] VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 607
barefooted Carmelites. She had never heard that there were
such friars in the world, and at that time only two monasteries
had been founded, those of Mancera and Pastrana.1 She must
have obtained the knowledge thereof after this ; then, having
learnt that there was a monastery in Pastrana, and as she
had been very friendly in times past with the princess of
Eboli, wife of prince Ruy Gomez, to whom Pastrana belonged,
she set out for that place to find how she could have the
monastery she desired.2 There, in the monastery of Pastrana,
in the church of S. Peter, for that is its title, she took the
habit of our Lady,3 not, however, with the intention of be
coming a nun and making her profession, for she never had
any inclination to be a nun, because our Lord was leading her
by another way; she thought that if she were once under
obedience they would thwart her in her purpose of living
austerely and in solitude.
25. In the presence of all the friars she received the
habit of our Lady of Carmel. Father Mariano was there at
the time. I have spoken of him before in the story of these
foundations,4 and he told me myself that he fell into a trance
or rapture and lost all consciousness, and saw while in that
state many friars and nuns lying dead ; some of them had their
heads cut off, and others their limbs and arms, as having
1 The friars left Duruelo, the first house, and established them
selves in Mancera, June 11, 1570. The house in Pastrana was founded
a year earlier, June 13, 1569. See ch. xiv. § 8, note; xvii. § 14, note.
2 After the vision she made inquiries about friars such as
she now understood to be our Lord's will to send to La Roda, and
all were amazed at her questions. A few days later a poor man who
had gone to Pastrana came to her and said, "Give me a reward; I
have seen your friars in Pastrana; the prince Ruy Gomez has built
them a monastery there " She then wrote to the prince, and he
communicated the letter to the friars. Fra Ambrosio Mariano was
sent to the cave for her, and brought her to Pastrana, not without
much persuasion, and some trouble in getting away without the knowl
edge of the neighbourhood. On the 3rd of May, 1571, she came to
Pastrana, and the prince himself with the duke of Gandia, the
successor of S. Francis Borja, went out to meet her, with many
others (Reforma, lib. iv. chs. xi. xii.).
3 She would have the habit of a lay brother, for she thought the
life of the Carmelite nuns too soft for her, and she was accordingly so
clothed, May 6, by the prior Fra Baltasar (Ibid. ch. xii. §§ 5, 6).
4 See ch. xvii. § 5, note.
608 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
suffered martyrdom; for that is the meaning of the vision.
He is not a man to say that he saw what he has not seen,
neither is he in the habit of falling into a trance, for that is
not the way by which God is leading him. Pray to God,
my sisters, that the vision may be true, and that we in our
day may deserve to behold so great a blessing, and be our
selves among the martyrs.
26. In Pastrana the saintly Cardona began to seek the
means of founding a monastery, and in order to do so went
back to Madrid, out of which she had gone away with so
much joy,1 which was no slight torment to her; and there
she did not escape trouble or the tongue that speaketh evil,
for whenever she went abroad she could not avoid the crowd ;
it was thus wherever she was. She went next to Toledo,
where she remained with our nuns. All of them assured
me that there was about her a fragrance as that of relics, so
strong that it moved them to give thanks to our Lord; it
clung even to her habit and her girdle which she left behind,
for they took her habit from her and gave her another; and
the nearer they came to her the more strongly did they per
ceive it, though her dress, owing to the heat which then pre
vailed, was of a kind to be offensive rather than otherwise.
I know they would not say anything that was not in every
way true; they had a great veneration for her. In Madrid
1 She went to Madrid accompanied by the fathers Fra Pedro of
the Apostles, Fra Ambrosio Mariano, and the brother Juan de la
Miseria. As she had been in the habit of giving her blessing to the
people who thronged around her in her cave, so she continued to do
in Madrid; and one day a zealous and good man told the nuncio,
Monsignore Ormaneto, that he had seen a Carmelite lay brother in a
carriage with ladies, giving his blessing like a bishop to the people.
The nuncio sent for Fra Ambrosio, whom he knew well ,and asked
him who the brother was. Fra Ambrosio told the whole truth, but the
nuncio would not be satisfied — he must see the woman herself and
try her spirit. Fra Ambrosio went for Dona Catalina and took her to
the nuncio; she as soon as she saw him gave him her blessing as
usual, but the nuncio was not pleased, asked the friar how he came to
bring her to his presence in that dress, and asked her what spirit it
was that made her bless the people as if she were a bishop. The two
friars prostrated themselves before the nuncio and were silent, and he,
touched by their humility, bade them rise, and by conversing with
them understood the matter, and left Dona Catalina in peace, asking
her, however, to pray for the success of the Catholic league under
Don Juan (Reforma de los Descalgos, lib. iv. ch. xiv. § 4).
CH. XXVIII.] VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 609
and other places people gave her the means to found the
monastery, and when she had the licence it was founded.1
27. The church was built where her cave was, and
another was made for her on one side having in it a solid
tomb. There she remained both night and day during the
remainder of her life.2 That was not long, for she lived only
about five years and a half after the foundation of the monas
tery; it seems supernatural, and indeed so does her former
life, considering how severe it was. She died in the year 1577,
as I find now.3 The solemnities of her burial were very grand,
for a nobleman of the name of Don Juan de Leon4 had a great
veneration for her and insisted on it. She is now lying in a
1 The licence to make the foundation was obtained for her by the
king from the provincial of the mitigation, and the visitor apostolic Fra
Pedro Fernandez. She received large presents of vestments and vessels
for the celebration of mass, which moved a grave ecclesiastic to say
to her that woollen chasubles and leaden chalices were well enough
for poor friars. She answered, "You, a worm of the earth, have a
service of plate, and want the King of kings to be satisfied with lead."
She left Madrid in the beginning of March, 1572, and in April took
possession of the place where the new monastery was to rise over
the cave which she had dwelt in for eight years (Reforma de los
Descal^os, lib. iv. ch. xvi. §§ 2, 3).
2 In October, 1573, at the earnest request of a knight of S. James,
she left the cave on an errand of charity to Madrid. Don Gonzalo,
elder brother of the archbishop of Toledo, was in danger of losing
his life, and she was to beg his pardon of the king, who refused to
listen to any one. In this she was successful, and set out for La
Roda in the beginning of the following year, visiting the princess of
Hboli in Pastrana, who was already beginning to be weary of the
nuns. Father Caspar de Salazar, S. J., sent by the Inquisition of
Cuenca to examine her spirit, visited her in the cave, and was not only
-edified but amazed at what he saw and heard; his report to the in
quisitors silenced all clamour (Reforma de los Descal^os, lib. iv. chs.
xix., xx.).
3 The chronicler of the order says (lib. iv. ch. xx.) that she fore
told her death, which was to take place within the octave of the
Ascension, and that she died May 11, 1577, though others say it was
two years later. Father Bouix says she died May 11, 1577, on the
octave of the Ascension. Now, in 1577 Ascension Day fell on May 16;
but in 1578 it fell on the 8th, and in that year May llth was within
the octave.
4 Don Vicente has Fray Juan de Leon, but as, he does not make
any remark on the change, it is probably a misprint; the old reading
is therefore retained. It may be that Don Juan was a religious; if so,
Don Vicente's reading should be preferred.
610 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
chapel of our Lady, to whom she was so extremely devout,
but only for a time, till a larger church than the one they have
at present shall be built, as only fitting to contain her blessed
body.1
28. The monastery on her account is a place of great
devotion, which still continues, and so is the whole neigh
bourhood, especially the desert, and the cave where she lived
before she resolved on building the monastery. I have been
told on good authority that she used to be worn and wearied
at the sight of the great crowds that came to see her, that she
wanted to go to some other place where nobody knew any
thing about her, and that she sent for the hermit who brought
her thither to take her away, but he was then dead. Our
Lord, who had ordained that a house should be built there for
our Lady, would not let her depart, for I see, as I said before,
that He is greatly served there. The friars are in marvellous
dispositions, and their countenances show plainly what a joy
they have in being thus separated from the world, especially
the prior,2 whom God had taken away from many comforts
that he might wear the habit, and whom He thus amply
rewarded by giving him the comfort of His Spirit. He showed
me much affection there. They gave us some of the furniture
of their church for use in that which we were going to found ;
for, as the saintly woman was held in great respect by so
many persons of note, their church was well supplied with
its furniture.
29. During my stay there I was greatly comforted, though
to my exceeding great shame, and the shame lasts, because
I saw that she who there had borne so sharp a penance was
a woman like myself, and more tenderly nurtured, for she
was of a nobler race, and not so great a sinner as I am; on
this subject there is no comparison possible between us, for
I received much greater graces from our Lord in many ways,
and that I am not this moment in hell for my great sins
is a very great one. To follow in her steps, if I can, is my
1 In 1603 the monastery was removed to Villanueva de la Jara,
and the friars took with them the body of their founder, and three
years afterwards, when Fra Pedro of Jesus Maria was prior placed it
in an honourable place on the gospel side (Reforma de los Descalqos,
lib. iv. ch. xx. § 8).
* The prior of La Roda was Fra Gabriel of the Assumption (see
above, § 8).
CH. XXVIII. j VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 611
only comfort; but that is not much, for all my life has been
wasted in desires ; as for works, I have none.1 May God of
His compassion succour me, in whom I have always put
my trust, for the sake of His Most Holy Son and the Virgin
our Lady, whose habit, by the goodness of our Lord, I wear!
30. One day after Communion in that hallowed church
I became profoundly recollected, and fell into a trance in
which my senses wrere withheld. In that trance I saw the holy
woman as a glorious body by an intellectual vision. There
were angels with her ; she told me not to grow faint, but
strive to go on with these foundations, I understood thereby
though she did not say so expressly, that she helped me before
God. She also told me something else, but there is no reason
why I should repeat it here. I was very much comforted,
and had a desire to labour; and I hope, in the goodness of
our Lord, that, with such good help as her prayers are, 1
may be able to serve Him in some measure. You see now,
my sisters, that her troubles are over already, and that the
bliss she is in has no end. Let us strive now, for the love
of our Lord, to follow this our sister: hating ourselves as
she hated herself, we shall finish our journey, for everything
passes rapidly away and comes to an end.
31. On the first Sunday in Lent — it was the eve of the
feast of the Chair of S. Peter, and the feast of S. Barbatian,
1580 — we reached Villanueva de la Jara. On that very day
the Most Holy Sacrament was brought into the church of the
glorious S. Anne at the time of high mass. The whole munic
ipality and certain others, with doctor Ervias, came forth
to receive us, and we alighted at the church of the town,
which is somewhat distant from that of S. Anne.
32. The joy of the people was so great that it filled me
with consolation at beholding their pleasure in receiving
the order of the Most Holy Virgin our Lady. When we were
yet far away we heard the ringing of the bells, and on our
entering the church they began the Te Deum, one verse sung
by the choristers, the other played on the organ. That done,
they carried the Most Holy Sacrament on a bier, and on
another our Lady, with crosses and banners. The procession
moved on in great pomp ; we, in our white mantles, and faces
veiled, were in the middle near the Most Holy Sacrament,
and close to us our barefooted friars, who had come in great
1 See Relation, in. § 12.
612 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
numbers from their monastery;1 the Franciscans — for there
is a monastery of S. Francis there — went also, and a Dominican
who was in the place, and though he was alone it gave me
pleasure to see that habit there.
33. As the distance was great, many altars had been
raised. The procession halted at times, when something was
sung about our order, wrhich moved me to great devotion :2
so also did it to see that it was all in praise of the great
God there present, and that so much was done for seven
poor nuns who were there. Nevertheless, when I reflected
upon it I was filled with confusion, remembering that I was
among them, and that every one there ought to have turned
against me if they would but have treated me as I deserve. I
have given you at such length this account of the honour done
to the habit of our Lady, that you may give thanks to our
Lord and beseech Him to make use of this foundation, for I
have a greater joy when a foundation is made under persecu
tion and with trouble, and I speak of them the more willingly.
34. It is true the sisters who were already there had
been in trouble for nearly six years — at least for more than
the five years and a half which have gone by since they went
into this house of the glorious S. Anne. I do not speak of
their poverty and toil in earning their food, for they never
would ask alms; the reason of that was that they would not
have their neighbours think they were there to be supported
by them ; neither do I speak of their great penance, of their
long fasts, of their scanty food, of their hard beds, and of the
small house which, in the strict enclosure they always ob
served, was hard enough to bear. What was hardest to bear,
they told me, was the earnest longing they had to put on the
habit, and which was a most grievous torment to them night
and day, for they thought they were never to wear it; and
accordingly their constant prayer, and that most frequently
with tears, was that God would bestow that grace upon them.
When they saw any difficulty arise they were distressed be
yond measure, and multiplied their penances. They stinted
themselves in their food, that out of their earnings they might
have the means of paying the messengers who came to me,
and of showing what gratitude they could in their poverty
1 The monastery of our Lady of Succour, La Roda.
2 Cantando muchos villancicos a proposito de la venida tan deseada
de las religiosas (Yepes, ii. 30).
ST. TERESA'S DEATH AND PRINCIPAL RELICS.
Hye Hoys del
1. Anne of St. Bartholomew, St. Teresa's inseparable companion during the
last years of her life. 2. The chamber in which St. Teresa died. 3. Reliquar>
containing- St.. Teresa's heart, in the Carmelite monastery at Alba. 4. Reliquary
containlng St. Teresa's left arm, in the same monastery. 5. Left hand of the Saint
in the Carmelite monastery, at Lisbon. 6. Index finger of the Saint's ri.u'ht hand
in the monastery of the Carmelites of Regina Coeli at Rome. 7. Middle finger of
the same hand, in the Carmelite monastery in the rue d'Enfer at Paris. 8. Ring
finger of the same hand, in the Carmelite monastery at Avila. 9. Little finger of
the same hand, in the Carmelite monastery at Brussels. 10. Reliquary of the right
foot, in the Carmelite monastery of la Scala at Rome. 11. Reliquary containing
Bruges P Raoux, Sc
some of St. Teresa's flesh, in the Carmelite monastery at Medina del Campo.
12. Reliquary containing flesh of St. Teresa, in the Discalced Carmelite monastery
at Segovia. 13. Collarbone (right) of St. Teresa, in the Discalced monastery at
Brussels. 14. Collarbone (left), in the Carmelite monastery of St. Joseph at Avila.
lo. Molar tooth, in the Discalced Carmelite monastery at Genoa. 16. Cross made of
various bones of the Saint, and fastened to one of her rosaries, in the Carmelite
monastery at Alcala de Henares. 17. Coffer which contained the body of the Saint
at Avila. 18. Arms of Sixtus V. 19. Arms of Urban VII. 20. Arms of Gregory XIV.
21. Arms of Innocent IX. Under these Pontiffs the inquiries into the beatification
of St. Teresa took place. (See Appendix, note 27.)
CH. XXVIII.] VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 613
to those who were able to help them in any way. I see
clearly myself, ever since I conversed wiJi them and saw
how saintly they were, that they must have obtained their
admission into the order by their prayers and tears, and so I
looked on the possession of such souls as these as a much
greater treasure than a rich endowment, and my hope is the
house will prosper greatly.
35. When we entered the house they were standing at
the door within, each of them dressed as usual, for they were
dressed as they were when they first came, and would never
put on any religious dress, hoping for ours ; what they wore,
however, was most modest, and showed plainly how little
thought they had taken for themselves ; they were so poorly
clad, and almost all of them so thin, as to show that they
had been living a most penitential life. They received us
with tears of great joy, and those tears were certainly not
feigned. Their great virtue shone forth in their joy, in their
humility, and in their obedience to the prioress and to all
those who came to make the foundation; they could not do
enough to please them. All the fear they had was lest the
nuns should go back when they saw their poverty and the
smallness of the house. Not one of them had ever exercised
any authority over another, but each one had with great
affection laboured to the utmost of her strength. Two of
them, and they were the eldest, managed all their affairs when
necessary ; the rest never spoke to anybody, and would not do
so. The door of the house had a bolt only, no lock, and the
eldest answered at it; none of the others ventured near it.
They slept very little, that they might earn their bread and
not miss their prayer, in which they spent many hours — on
festivals the whole day.
36. They directed themselves by means of the books of
Fra Luis of Granada and of Fra Peter of Alcantara. Most of
the time was spent in saying the divine office — they could
hardly read it; one only could read well — and that in bre
viaries that differed one from another; some of these, being
of the old Roman form,1 had been given them by certain eccle-
1 At this time the breviary and missal were corrected and reformed
by S. Pius V., whereby the old books became unserviceable. The
Saint calls them the "old Roman" to distinguish them from the new
books, and to show that they had been used by the secular clergy,
and were not the breviaries of any religious order (De la Fuente).
614 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXVIII.
siastics who used them no longer, others they had got any
how, and, as they did not know how to read, they spent many
hours upon them. They did not say the office where strangers
could hear them; God accepted their intention and toil, but
they must have said very little that was correct. When the
father Fra Antonio of Jesus began to know them he made them
say the office of our Lady only. They had an oven in which
they baked their bread, and everything was orderly done,
as if they had some one to give directions. The effect on
me was to make me give thanks to our Lord, and the more
I conversed with them the more glad I was that I had come. I
believe that, whatever difficulties I might have had to undergo,
I should not have shrunk from them to bring consolation
to these souls.1 Those of my companions who remained told
me that in the beginning, during the first days, they were
conscious of a certain unwillingness to live with them, but that
when they came to know them, and saw how good they were,
they were very glad to stay, and conceived a great affection
for them. Sanctity and goodness can do great things.
37. The truth is, those who came with me were so good
that, even if they met with many difficulties and trials, they
would have borne all nobly by the grace of our Lord, for they
desire to suffer in His service; and that sister who does not
feel this desire must not look upon herself as a true Carmelite
nun, because the aim of our desires must be, not rest, but
suffering, that we may in some measure be like unto Him,
our true bridegroom. May it please His Majesty to give us
His grace for that end ! Amen.
38. The hermitage of S. Anne began in this way. There
lived here, in Villanueva de la Jara, an ecclesiastic born in
Zamora, who had been a friar of the order of our Lady of
Carmel. His name was Diego de Guadalajara; he had a
devotion to the glorious S. Anne, and so he made this hermit
age close to his house, and thereby had an opporuntity of
hearing mass. He went to Rome because of this great devo
tion, and obtained a bull for many indulgences in this church
and hermitage. He was a pious and interior man. He made
a will when he was dying, and gave this house and all that
1 On the feast of S. Mathias, February 25, the Saint gave the
habit to the nine women (see § 5) who had shut themselves up in
the hermitage of S. Anne. The sermon on the occasion was preached
by Fra Antonio of Jesus (Reforma de los Descalqos, lib. v. ch. iii. § 10).
CH. XXIX.] VILLANUEVA DE LA JARA. 615
belongs to it for a monastery of nuns of our Lady of Carmel ;
and if that could not be done, then for a chaplain who was to
say certain masses every week, but that as soon as and when
ever the monastery should be founded there should be no
obligation to say those masses. For more than twenty years
the hermitage belonged to the chaplain, and the property was
ruined, for, though the women took possession of the house,
they had nothing but the house. The chaplain lived in another
belonging to the chapel, which he will now give up to us with
the rest, and that is very little; but the compassion of God
is so great that lie will not fail to befriend the house of His
glorious grandmother. May it please His Majesty to be ever
pleased therein, and may all creatures praise Him for ever
and ever ! Amen.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE FOUNDATION OF S. JOSEPH OF OUR LADY OF LA CALLE IN
PALENCIA, ON THE FEAST OF KING DAVID, 1580.
1. WHEN I went away from making the foundation of
Villanueva de la Jara1 I was ordered by my superior2 to go
to Valladolid ; it was at the request of the bishop of Palencia,
Don Alvaro de Mendoza, who accepted and at all times helped
the first monastery, that of S. Joseph, Avila, and always
does help us in whatever concerns the order.3 When he had
given up the see of Avila, being translated to Palencia, our
Lord put it into his heart to have a monastery of this holy
order founded there. On my arrival in Valladolid I became so
seriously ill that they thought I must die. I was so unwilling
to make the foundation, and so far from thinking I could do
anything, that, notwithstanding the importunity of the prior-
1 The Saint left Villanueva de la Jara on the 20th day of March,
1580 (Reforma, lib. v. c. vii. § 1), and reached Toledo on Saturday
in Passiontide, March 26, having travelled the thirty leagues of road
without fatigue (Lett. 280; Lett. 59 vol. iv. ed. Doblado).
2 Fra Angel de Salazar, whom the nuncio, Monsignore Sega, had
appointed to govern and protect the friars and nuns of the reform.
3 See below, ch. xxxi. at the end.
616 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIX.
ess1 of our monastery in Valladolid, who wished much to see
the foundation made, I could not persuade myself to under
take it; neither had I the means to begin it, for the monastery
was to be founded in poverty, and I was told that it could
not be maintained, because the place was very poor.
2. This foundation, with that of Burgos, had been under
consideration for nearly a year, and heretofore I was not so
unwilling to make it; then, however, when I had gone to
Valladolid for no other end, I found that the disadvantages of
it were many. I know not whether this came from my illness
and the weakness it left me in, or from the devil, who wanted
to hinder the good that was afterwards done. In truth, I am
lost in amazement and grief — and I have often complained
of it to our Lord — at the great share which the poor soul has
in the weakness of the body, for it seems to have nothing
to do but to observe its laws according to its needs, and any
thing else which makes it suffer.
3. One of the greatest trials and miseries of this life seems
to me to be the absence of a grand spirit to keep the body
under control ; illnesses and grievous afflictions, though they
are a trial, I think nothing of if the soul is strong, for it
praises God, and sees that everything comes from His hand.
But to be on the one hand suffering, and on the other doing
nothing, is to be in a fearful state, especially for a soul that
has had earnest desires never to rest inwardly or outwardly,
but to spend itself wholly in the service of its great God ;
there is no help for it but in patience and confessing its
wretchedness, and in being resigned to the will of God, so
that He may use it for what purposes He pleases, and as He
pleases. This was the state I was in then : though my strength
had begun to come back, yet such was my weakness that I
lost that confidence I usually had when I had to begin any
of these foundations. I thought everything impossible, and
it would have been of great service to me if I could have
found any one to encourage me ; but, as it was, some helped
me to be afraid ; others, though they made me hope a little,
could not overcome my faintheartedness.
4. At that time came thither a father of the society,
1 This was Maria de Ocampa, a niece of the Saint. She made her
profession in S. Joseph's of Avila, and is the novice spoken of in ch.
i. § 2. The Saint speaks of her also in her Life, ch. xxxii. § 13; see
note there.
CH. XXIX. J PALENCIA. 617
the doctor Ripalda,1 a great servant of God, who at one time
used to hear my confession. I told him the state I was in,
and that I looked upon him as standing to me in the place
of God — he must tell me what he thought of it. He began
by rousing my courage, and told me that my cowardice was
the effect of old age ; but I saw well enough it was not, for
I am older to-day and I feel none of it; and he too must have
known it was not, and therefore rebuked me in that way
that I might not think it came from God.
5. The foundation of Palencia and that of Burgos were
then carried on together, and I was without means for the
one and the other; but this was not the cause of my discour
agement, for I usually begin with less. He bade me give it
up on no account, and the same thing had been said to me
before in Toledo by a provincial of the society, Baltasar
Alvarez,2 but I was then in good health. That was enough
to make me resolved on going on, and yet, though I was
very much moved by it, I was not altogether resolved, because
either the devil or, as I have just said, my illness held
me back; however, I became much more willing to go on.
The prioress of Valladolid did all she could to help me, for she
wished much for the 'foundation in Palencia, but she also had
her fears when she saw me so lukewarm. Once let me draw
near to the true fire — for nobody, not even the servants of God,
could give me courage — and it is done ; and that will show it
was generally not I who did anything in these foundations, but
He only who is almighty.
6. One day, still in doubt, and not determined on making
either of the foundations, I implored our Lord, when I had
just received communion, to give me light that I might in all
things do His will ; and my lukewarmness was even such as
to make me falter for a moment in that desire. Our Lord
said to me, as it were reproaching me, "What art thou afraid
of? When did I ever fail thee? I am to-day what I have
always been ; do not give up these foundations."3 O the
great God, how different are Thy words from the words of
men! So my courage and resolution came, the whole world
1 See Relation, vii. § 5.
2 This was the old confessor of the Saint in Avila, and her
constant friend. See Life, ch. xxiv. § 6.
3 See below, ch. xxxi. § 4.
618 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIX.
was not strong enough to oppose me, and I began at once
to make my preparations, and our Lord to furnish the means.1
7. I received two nuns, that we might have wherewithal
to buy a house ; and, though they told me it was not possible
to live by alms in Palencia, it was as if they said nothing,
for as to founding it with an endowment I saw it could not
be done then, and as God commanded it to be made His
Majesty would see to that. Accordingly, though I had not
quite recovered my health, I made up my mind to go, though
the weather was rough, for I left Valladolid on the feast of
the Innocents in the year already mentioned,2 for a nobleman
who lived there, having gone to live elsewhere, had given us
until Midsummer3 in the following year a house he had hired.
I wrote to a canon of that city, though I did not know him ;
but a friend of his had told me that he was a servant of God,
and I had a firm persuasion he would be a great help to us,
because our Lord himself — it has been so in the other founda
tions — finds everywhere some one to help us, because His
Majesty knows how little I can do myself. I sent to the
canon begging him to have the house4 emptied for us as
secretly as he could, for some one was staying in it whom
he was not to tell what it was wanted* for: notwithstanding
that some of the chief persons there had shown their goodwill,
and the bishop very much so, I looked on it as being much
safer to let nobody know of the matter.
8. The canon Reinoso5 — it was to him I wrote — did
this work so well that he had not only had the house made
ready for us but beds also, wi'.h many comforts abundantly
supplied ; and we had need of all, for it was very cold, and the
day before had been toilsome because of a thick fog in which
we could scarcely see one another. In truth, we had hardly
1 The Saint asked Fra Jerome of the Mother of God to visit
Palencia, which he did, though he was of the opinion of the Saint, and
against the foundation. He returned in the same dispositions, but a
few days after he came to the Saint and said that he was willing the
foundation should be made (Reforma, v. 7, § 4).
2 See ch. xxviii. § 31; it was the same year, 1580.
3 Hasta San Juan.
* The house was the property of Dona Isabel de Moya (Reforma,
v. 7, § 5).
* Don Jerome de Reinoso, nephew of Don Francis de Reinoso,
who became bishop of Cordova (Reforma, v. 7, § 5).
CH. XXIX.] PALENCIA. 619
any rest till we had made everything ready for saying mass
the next morning.1 I would have that done before anybody
knew we were there, because I have found that to be the best
way in making these foundations,2 for if we begin to consult
people Satan disturbs everything; however, he cannot succeed,
but he gives trouble. So it was done ; for early in the morning,
when it was scarcely dawn, mass was said by a priest who
came with us, named Porras, a great servant of God, and by
another, a friend of the nuns of Valladolid, Augustin of
Vitoria, who had lent me money to furnish the house, and
who had been a great comfort to us on the road.
9. We came here five nuns,3 and a lay sister4 who for
some time has been with me as my companion, but she is so
great a servant of God, and so provident, that she is able
to help me more than any other. That night we had but
little sleep, though the journey, as I said, had been fatiguing
because of the rain. It was a joy to me that the foundation
was made on the day on which King David is commemorated,
for I have a devotion to him.5 I sent immediately in the
morning a message to the bishop, for he did not even know
that I had arrived that day. He came to us at once with
that great affection which he has always had for us; he told
us he should give us all the bread we should require, and gave
his steward orders to furnish many things. The order owes
him so much that every one who shall read the story of these
foundations is bound to pray to our Lord for him, living and
dead; and I ask to have it done as an act of charity. The
joy shown by the people was so great and so general as to
1 Mass was said December 29th, the feast of S. Thomas of Canter
bury which is 'also the day on which King David is commemorated
in the martyrology (Re forma, ib. § 6).
2 The Saint had not been able to get the consent of the corregidor,
and Fra Jerome of the Mother of God went to him the second time on
the part of the Saint to ask for it. The corregidor said, "Well, father,
let her have what she asks for. The mother Teresa must be in
possession of some decree of the royal council of God, which compels
us to do her will whether we like it or not" (Reforma, ib.).
3 These were Isabel of Jesus born in Segovia, the prioress;
Beatriz of Jesus, sub-prioress; Inez of Jesus, cousin of the Saint,
professed in the monastery of the Incarnation; and Maria of the
Holy Ghost born in Burgos (Reforma, ib. § 6).
4 The venerable Anne of S. Bartholomew.
6 See Life, ch. xvi. § 5.
620 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIX.
make it very remarkable, for there was no one who took it
amiss. It was known that the bishop wished it, and that was
a help to us, for he is greatly beloved there; but the whole
population is the best and noblest I have seen, and accordingly
I rejoice more and more every day that I have made a
foundation there.
10. As the house was not our own, we began at once
to treat for the purchase of another, for, though that we were
in was for sale, it was very badly placed and I thought, with
the help I should have from the nuns who were to live in it,
I might treat with some security, for, though that was but
little, it was much for that place. After all, if God had not
sent us the good friends He gave us it would have been all
to no purpose. The good canon Reinoso brought with him
another friend, the canon Salinas,1 a man of great charity
and discernment, and between them both the matter was
looked after just as if it was their own, and I believe with
more zeal ; and they have been always friends of this house.
11. There was a building in the town, a hermitage de
voutly frequented, dedicated to our Lady, with the title of our
Lady of the Street. It is a very holy place in the eyes of the
whole country and of the town itself, and many people resort
to it. It seemed to his lordship and to every body that we
should be well placed close to that church. There was no
house belonging to it, but there were two adjoining it, which,
if we bought them, would be enough for us if we had the
church also. This the chapter and a certain confraternity
would have to give up to us, and accordingly we began to take
steps for obtaining it. The chapter at once gave it to us as
a gift, and, though I had some trouble in c.oming to an
understanding with the members of the confraternity, they did
so also; for, as I have said before, the people of the place are
good, and I have nowhere seen better.
12. When the owners of the houses saw that we wished
to get them they raised the price, and very reasonably so.
I would go and see them, but they seemed to me and to those
who went with us so poor that I would not have them on
any account. Later on I saw clearly that Satan, on his part,
exerted himself because it vexed him that we were come. The
two canons who helped us thought we should be there at too
great a distance from the cathedral church, yet it was the
1 The Saint speaks of him again below, ch. xxxi. § 18.
CH. XXIX. J PALENCIA. 621
most thickly peopled part of the town. In a word, we all made
up our minds, as that house would not suit, to look for another.
This the two canons began to do with such care and dili
gence that I gave thanks to our Lord, and neglected nothing
they thought to the purpose. They were satisfied at last
with a house belonging to a person they called Tamayo. Some
parts of it were very well arranged, so that it was exceed
ingly convenient for us, and it stood near the house of a
great nobleman, Suero de Vega,1 who was a great friend
of ours, and who, with others living in that part of the town,
was very much pleased at our going to live there. The house
was not large enough, but another would be given us with
it, which, however, was not so placed that we could well join
the one to the other.
13. In short, they gave such an account of the matter
that I wished the purchase to be made, but the two canons
would not settle anything before I saw the place myself.
I felt the going out among people very keenly, and I had so
much confidence in them as to make it unnecessary. At last
I went, and also to see the houses by the church of our Lady,
though not with the intention of taking them, but to hinder
the owner of the other house from thinking that we could
not help taking his. To me, and to those who went with
me to see them, they looked so wretched, as I said before,
but we are now astonished that we could have thought so
badly of them. In this mind we went to the other house,
being fully determined to take it, and none other; and, though
we found many difficulties, we made light of them, notwith
standing the great trouble we should have in overcoming them,
for all that part of it which was fitted for our living in would
have to be pulled down in order to build the church, and
after all an inconvenient one. A strange thing this pre
determination to do a particular thing! in truth, it taught
me to have little confidence in myself, though I was not alone
in my then delusion. In a word, we went away fully resolved
that no other would do for us, and to give the money asked,
which was too much, and to write to the owner, for he was
not in the town ; he was, however, not far off.
14. This long account of the purchase of a house will
1 He was the son of Juan de Vega, president of Castille, and his
wife was Dona Elvira Manrique, daughter of the count of Osorno
(Re forma, lib. v. ch. vii. § 4).
622 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIX.
seem foolish until we consider the object which Satan must
have had, that we should not go to that of our Lady ; and I
tremble whenever I think of it. All having made up their
mind, as I said before, to take no other house but that, the
next morning during mass I began to be very anxious, doubt
ing if we had done right, and ill at ease, so that I had hardly
any peace during the whole of mass. I went to receive the
Most Holy Sacrament, and at the moment of communion
I heard these words, "This is the house for thee," in such
a way that I made up my mind at once not to take the other
house at all of which I was thinking, but that of our Lady.1
I began to consider the difficulties of withdrawing from a
bargain which had been carried so far, and which they who
had so carefuly considered it wished so much to see settled,
and our Lord answered me, "They do not know how much
I am offended in that place, and this will be a great reparation."
T thought it was no delusion, but I did not believe; yet I
knew well, by the effect it had upon me, that it was the
Spirit of God. He said to me at once, "It is I."
15. I became perfectly calm, delivered from my former
uneasiness, though I did not know how to undo what had been
done, and to remove the evil impression given to my sisters of
that house ; for I had spoken strongly of the unfitness of it, and
that I would not have them go there without seeing it for
anything in the world. However, I did not think so much
about this, for I was well aware that they would take in
good part whatever I did ; but my doubts were about those
who wished to have the other house. These would look on
me, I thought, as capricious and uncertain, seeing that I
changed so quickly — what I hate exceedingly. All this think
ing had no influence whatever, much or little, to make me
give up the house of our Lady, neither did I remember
that it was not a good house ; for if the nuns could hinder
but one venial sin everything else was of no moment, and
every one of them, if they only knew what I knew, would
have been, I believe, of the same mind.
16. I had recourse to this — I used to go to confession to
the canon Reinoso, who was one of two who befriended me,
though I had never told him anything of the kind before,
because nothing had happened to make it necessary for me
to do so ; and, as I have been accustomed when these spiritual
1 See Relation, xi. § 4, where the Saint speaks of this.
CH. XXIX.] PALENCIA. 623
visitations occur always to do that which my confessor may
advise, in order that I might travel on the safe road, I deten
mined to tell him all as a great secret, though my mind was
not made up to leave undone what I had been told to do,
without a feeling of great pain. I would have ended, however,
by doing what he told me, for I trusted in our Lord that
lie would do again what I have known Him do at other
times, for His Majesty changes the confessor's mind, though
of another opinion, so that he shall do what our Lord wills.
17. I spoke to him first of the many times that our
Lord was wont to show me in this way what to do, and that
before now many things had happened whereby I knew it to
be the work of His Spirit, and then told him what had
taken place ; but still I would do what he desired, though it
might be painful. He is a most prudent and saintly man,
and endowed with the gift of good counsel in everything,
but he is young, and, though he saw that this change would
be talked about, his decision was not that I should refrain
from doing what I had learnt. I told him we should wait for
the return of the messenger, and he thought so too, for I was
now confident that God would find a way out of it; and so it
came to pass, for the owner of the house, though we had given
for it what he wanted and had asked for, now asked three
hundred ducats more, which seemed absurd, for the sum to be
paid was more than the house was worth. Herein we saw the
hand of God, for the sale of the house was very serviceable to
its owner, and to ask for more when the bargain had been
made was not reasonable. This helped us exceedingly, and we
said we could never agree with him ; but it was not enough
to excuse us, because it was plain that for the sake of
three hundred ducats we ought not to give up a house that
seemed fit for i monastery. I told my confessor not to trouble
himself about my good name now that he thought I ought to
do it, but merely to say to his friend that I was bent on buying
the house of our Lady, whether it might be dear or cheap, in
good or in bad repair. His friend has a singularly quick
understanding, and, though nothing was said to him, I believe
he guessed the reason when he saw so sudden a change, and
accordingly he never pressed me further in the matter.
18. We all saw afterwards the mistake we might have
made in buying that house, for we are now amazed when
we consider how much better is the one we have, to say
624 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIX.
nothing of the chief thing of all, and which everybody sees,
the service of our Lord and of His glorious Mother therein,
and the removal of occasions of sin, for nightly vigils were
kept there, and therefore, as it was only a hermitage, many
things might have been done there, the hindering of which
was a vexation to Satan, and we ourselves are glad to be
able to serve our Mother, our Lady, and our Protectress in
anything. It was very ill done on our part not to have gone
there sooner, for we ought never to have looked at any other
house. It is plain enough that the devil makes us blind to
many things, for there are many conveniences in the house
which we should not have found elsewhere; the people, too,
wished us to take it, and their joy is exceedingly great; and
even those who would have us go to the. other house after
wards looked on this as much the best.
19. Blessed be He for ever and ever who gave me
light herein ! — and He does so whenever I happen to do any
thing well; for every day I am amazed more and more at
the little ability I have for any thing. This must not be
understood as humility, for I see it to be so more clearly day
by day. It seems to be our Lord's good pleasure that I and
everybody else shall learn that it is His Majesty alone who
makes these foundations, and that, as He by means of clay
gave sight to the blind,1 so He will have one blind as I am
not to act blindly. Certainly we showed great blindness
in this matter, as I said before, and whenever I think of it I
give thanks anew to our Lord, only even to do this I am not
able, and I do not know how He can bear me. Blessed be
His compassion for ever! Amen.
20. Those saintly friends of the Virgin then made haste
at once to purchase the houses, and they had them cheap in
my opinion. They laboured hard, for in every one of these
foundations God would have those who helped us to gain
merit, and I am the one who does nothing, as I have elsewhere
said, and wish never to refrain from saying, because it is
true. Then, the help they gave us in arranging the house,
and also in paying the money for it,2 and in becoming our
sureties also, as I had no money myself, was very great, for
before I found any to be sureties for us in other places, and
1 S. John ix. 6.
The dowry of two novices was added to the sum furnished by
the two canons (Reforma, lib. v. c. vii. § 6).
CH. XXIX. J PALENCIA. 625
that for not so large a sum, I was put to great trouble ; and
they were right, for if they did not trust in our Lord they
would not have done so, because I have no means. But His
Majesty has been always so gracious unto me that nobody
lost anything by doing me that kindness at any time, nor
have I ever failed to repay them fully, and I look upon that
as a very great grace.
21. As the owners of the houses were not satisfied with
the two canons as sureties, these went in search of the stew
ard,1 whose name was Prudencio ; but I do not know that
my recollection of his name is exact — so they called him now
— for as he was called the steward I did not learn his name.
He was so charitable to us that our debt to him was and is
great. He asked them whither they were going: they an
swered, to find him that he might sign the bond. He laughed
and said, "So this is the way you ask me to become security
for so much money?" And thereupon, without dismounting
from his mule, he signed, which is a wonderful thing for these
times. I should like to speak much in praise of the charity
of the people of Palencia, of all together and of each in
particular: the truth is, it seemed to me like that of the
primitive church — at least it is not very common in the world
now ; they knew we had no revenue, and that they would have
to find us food, and yet they not only did not forbid us to
come to them, but declared our coming to be a very great
grace which God gave them ; and if it be looked at in the
true light they spoke truly, for, if it did no more than give
them another church, wherein the most Holy Sacrament had
another house, that is a great thing.
22. May He be blessed for ever, amen ! for it is plain
enough that He is pleased to be here, and that something
wrong which must have been done in the place is done no
longer — for as much people kept vigil here formerly, and
as the hermitage was lonely, every one that came did not
come out of devotion — that is a change for the better. The
image of our Lady was in a most unseemly place. The bishop,
Don Alvaro de Mendoza, built a chapel for it, and by degrees
much was done for the honour and glory of the glorious
Virgin and of her Son. Praise Him for ever ! Amen, amen.
23. At last, when the house was fully prepared for the
nuns to go into it, the bishop would have them go with great
1 Probably the steward of the bishop mentioned in § 9.
626 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIX.
solemnity, and accordingly it was done one day within the
octave of Corpus Chrisli j1 he came himself from Valladolid,
and was attended by the chapter, the religious orders, and
almost the whole population of the place, to the sound of
music.2 We went from the house in which we were staying,
all of us in procession, in our white mantles, with veiled
faces, to the parish church,3 close to the house of our Lady.
Her image had come for us, and we took the Most Holy
Sacrament thence and carried it into our church in great
pomp and order, which stirred up much devotion. There
were more nuns, for those who were going to make the founda
tion in Soria were there ;4 and we all had candles in our hands.
I believe our Lord was greatly honoured that day in that
place.5 May He grant it may be always so of all creatures.
Amen.
24. When I was in Palencia it pleased God to make a
separation of the friars of the mitigation from the friars of
the reform, each division to be a province by itself, which
1 In 1581 Corpus Christi fell on Thursday, May 25, and the pro
cession of the nuns took place on the octave day (Rcforma, lib. v. c.
vii. § 7). If Letter 336 was really written May 29, the procession
cook place on Tuesday within the octave.
2 The Saint walked immediately behind the image of our Lady
with the bishop and Don Francis de Reinoso, followed by the magis
tracy and the municipality. Then the prioress, Isabel of Jesus,
between the corregidor and Suero de Vega. The wind was high,
and all the candles were blown out with the sole exception of those
in the hands of the nuns (Reforma, ibid).
3 The church of S. Lazarus (Lett. 336; but Lett. 30 vol. iv. ed.
Doblado).
4 They were seven in number (Reforma, ut supra). In the proces
sion also were Fra Jerome of the Mother of God, and his rival at a
later time, Fra Nicholas Doria (Note of Fra Antonio to Lett. 336;
Lett. 30, vol. iv. ed. Doblado). The nuns remained here ten years,
but, as the abuses of which the Saint complains did not wholly cease,
and the vigils were continued to 'a late hour of the night, to the great
disturbance of the nuns, the house was abandoned, but with regret,
because the Saint had chosen it; and the nuns took possession of
another, where they lived for some years in great poverty (Reforma,
ut supra, § 8).
5 The monastery of Palencia was called S. Joseph, and now on its
removal to the hermitage it was called S. Joseph of our Lady of the
Street (Rcforma, lib. v. c. vii. § 7).
CH. XXIX.] PALENCIA. 627
is all that we desired for our own peace and quietness.1 On
the petition of Don Philip, our Catholic king, a most ample
brief2 was brought from Rome for the purpose, and his majesty
helped us in the end as he had in the beginning. A chapter
was held in Alcala at the commandment of a reverend father,
Fra Juan de las Ceuvas,3 then prior in Talavera. He is of
the order of S. Dominic, and was appointed in Rome on the
nomination of the king: a most holy and prudent man, as it
was necessary he should be for such a work as this. The
1 When the troubles of the friars ceased in July, 1579, by order
of the nuncio Monsignore Sega, S. Teresa chose Fra Juan of Jesus
to be agent of the order in Rome. He was then prior of Mancera,
and the Saint sent for l.im to Avila, where she was staying, and gave
him Lis instructions He had for his companion Fra Diego of the
Trinity, prior of Pastrana. They had to travel in secular garments
for fear of their brethren of the mitigation. They obtained the bull
of separation, from Gregory XIII. — Pid considerations — dated June
22, 1580, and made haste to return to Spain. They arrived in Toledo
September 26, and sent word to the Saint, then in Valladolid, of the
successful issue of their mission. By this time the friars of the old
observance were weary of the struggle, and there was no further
trouble from without (Re forma, lib. iv. ch. xxxix. § 7; lib. v. ch. viii.
§1).
2 The execution of the bull mentioned in the foregoing note was
committed to the archbishops of Toledo and Seville, with the bishop
of Palencia. The archbishop of Seville, Don Christobal de Rojas y
Sandoval, dying soon after, the king proposed to the Pope to put the
old friend of the reform in the commission, Fra Pedro Fernandez,
then prior of S. Stephen's, Salamanca. The Pope consented, and the
brief announcing the fact was received by the king October 9, 1530.
Father Jerome of the Mother of God went to Salamanca to arrange
matters with Fra Pedro, whom he found on his death-bed. When Fra
Pedro was dead the king begged the Pope to appoint Fra Juan de las
Cuevas; the Pope consented, and the brief was received in Spain
January 4, 1581. That is the brief referred to in the text (Reforma,
lib. v. ch. viii. §§ 4-6).
3 Born in Coca; he was a friar of S. Stephen's, Salamanca. In
1596 he was nominated bishop of Avila, and two years later departed
this life. His name was Juan Velasquez de las Cuevas (De la Fuente}.
Fra Juan, the new commissary, before he entered on his office, sent
Fra Nicholas of Jesus Maria with the original bulls and briefs to
Fra Angel de Salazar, that he, having seen them, might know that his
own commission, given him by the nuncio, had expired, and for the
future refrain from all acts of jurisdiction over the reform of S.
Teresa. That done, Fra Juan returned to his monastery in Talavera,
and there, February 1, 1581, summoned all the priors of the reform
to a chapter to be held by him in Alcala in the beginning of March
(Reforma, lib. v. ch. ix. § 1).
628 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXIX.
cost was borne by the king, and at his command the whole
university helped the friars. The chapter1 was held in great
peace and concord in the college of S. Cyril of the barefooted
Carmelites,2 which we possess there. The father-master Fra
Jerome Gratian of the Mother of God was elected provincial. *
25. But, as these fathers will give an account of this
elsewhere, there is no reason why I should meddle with it.
I have spoken of it because it was while I was occupied
with this foundation that our Lord did a work that touched
so nearly the honour and glory of His glorious Mother, our
Lady and Patroness as she is, for the order is hers, and gave
to me one of the greatest joys and pleasures that I could
1 The priors of the order, with their fellows, in obedience to the
summons of the commissary apostolic, assembled in Alcala March 3,
1581, and on that day the separation of the reform from the mitigation
was definitively made and recorded. The former was to remain still
subject to the general of the whole order, but to be visited by none
other than by friars of their own rule, or by the general in person.
On the next day, Saturday, the definitors were elected, namely, the
fathers Nicholas of Jesus Maria, prior of Pastrana; Antonio of Jesus,
prior of Mancera; S. John of the Cross, rector of Baeza; and Gabriel
of the Assumption, fellow of the priory of La Roda. Fra Ambrosia
Stevano was chosen secretary. This done, they proceeded to elect
their provincial. The apostolic commissary proposed to them Fra
Jerome of the Mother of God, who, the assembly being divided, was
elected by only one vote more than was given for Fra Antonio of
Jesus. On Sunday (Laetare) there was a general procession, and a
theological disputation held in the evening, under the presidency of
the commissary, the defender of the conclusions being Fra Juan of the
Mother of God, against the learned doctors of the university (Reforma,
lib. v. ch. ix. x. § 1).
2 The college was founded in 1570 by Fra Baltasar of Jesus, the
prince Ruy Gomez having supplied the means; and the first rector of
it was S. John of the Cross. It was at this time called the college
of our Lady of Carmel; but in memory of the first chapter of the
barefooted Carmelites, held there March 6, 1581, the feast of Cyril,
the old name was changed into that by which the Saint calls it in the
text (Reforma, lib. ii. ch. xliii. § 5; and lib. v. ch. x. § 2).
3 Fra Jerome was at the time prior of Los Remedios in Seville,
having been elected February 19th, and confirmed by the superior
Fra Angel de Salazar, March 10, 1580, in Salamanca Fra Anton, of
S. Joseph, Lett. 302; Lett 26 vol. iii. ed. Doblado). His election to be
provincial was probably due to the influence of S. Teresa, but Fra
Antonio was very nearly chosen. The latter was now worn out, and
the Saint greatly mistrusted his gifts of government, and thought
he might do much harm in the order (Lett. 324, not in the edition of
Madrid. El dano que haria ahora!}.
CH. XXIX.] PALENCIA. 629
have in this life, for I had been for more than twenty-five
years in trouble, persecution, and distress, too long to speak
of; our Lord alone can know of them. Then to see the end
of it all ! No one, unless he knows the trouble I underwent,
can tell the joy that I had in my heart, and the desire I had
that all the world should give thanks to our Lord, and that
we should pray to Him for our holy king Don Philip, whom
God made use of to bring everything to so happy an end, for
the devil had been so cunning that the order would have been
overthrown but for the king.
26. Now we are all in peace, friars of the reform and
friars of the mitigation: no one hinders us in the service of
our Lord. Therefore, my brethren and sisters, make haste to
serve His Majesty, who has so abundantly heard our prayers.
Let those who are now alive, who have seen these things
with their own eyes, consider His graciousness unto us, and
the troubles and disquiet from which He has delivered us ;
and let those who are to come after us, who will find every
thing easy, for the love of our Lord never allow any observ
ance tending to perfection to fall into disuse. Let them never
give men occasion to say of them what is said of some orders,
"Their beginning was praiseworthy" — and we are beginning
now — but let them strive to go on from good to better. Let
them consider that the devil, by means of very slight relaxa
tions, makes an opening by which very great ones may creep
in. Let it never happen to them to say, "This is nothing—
these are extremes." O my daughters, every thing is impor
tant if it does not help us onwards. I beseech you for the
love of our Lord to keep in mind how soon everything passes
away, and how good our Lord has been to us in bringing us
to the order, and how severely she shall be punished who shall
be the first to be lax in anything. Do you direct your eyes
to the race of those holy prophets from whom we are
descended — what saints we have in heaven who wore this
habit ! Let us dare with a holy boldness, by the grace of God,
to be ourselves like unto them. The fi|ght, my sisters, will
be but for a moment, and the issue is for ever. Let us leave
alone things which are' nothing, and attend to those which
bring us near to Him, who is our end, to serve and love Him
more and more, for He will be forever and ever. Amen,
amen.
THANKS BE TO GOD!
630 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXX,
CHAPTER XXX.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE MONASTERY OF THE MOST HOLY TRINITY
IN SORIA, IN THE YEAR 1581 THE FIRST MASS SAID ON THE
FEAST OF S. ELISEUS.
1. WHEN I was in Palencia, on the business of the
foundations now described, I received a letter from Dr. Velas
quez,1 bishop of Osma ; I had had relations with him when he
was canon and professor in the cathedral of Toledo, and when
I was harassed by certain misgivings, for. I knew he was
a most learned man and a great servant of God, and so after
many importunities I persuaded him to take upon himself
the care of my soul, and to hear my confession.2 Notwith
standing his many occupations, yet, because I begged him
for the love of God to do it, and because he saw what straits
I was in, he consented so readily that I was surprised, and he
confessed and directed me all the time I remained in Toledo,
which was long enough. I laid before him the state of
my soul with exceeding plainness, as I am in the habit of
doing. The service he rendered me was so very great that
1 Don Alonzo Velasquez heard the confession of the Saint during
her stay in Toledo after the foundation of her monastery in Seville.
He was born in Tudela de Duero, and was successively bishop of
Osma and archbishop of Compostella. He made on foot the visitation
of Osma, and, worn out by the gout and other infirmities, he begged
permission to resign Compostella. Don Philip II. would consent to
the resignation only on condition of his naming two persons whom
he judged fit to be made archbishops. He did so, and the king chose
one of the two, and proposed him to the Pope. As Don Alonzo was
poor, the king asked him what pension was to be assigned from the
revenues of the see for his own use. He said that for himself, two
chaplains, and two servants a thousand ducats would suffice. The
king insisted on the assignation of twelve thousand ducats. Don
Alonzo resigned, and retired to Talavera to die. (Palafox, note
to Lett. 8 vol. 1, ed. Doblado, and 332 ed. of De la Fuente, who says
that the original of that letter has never been found, and that he
doubts whether the Saint ever wrote it.) The archbishop out of the
twelve thousand ducats accepted only one-half. He died in 1587, and
was buried in Tudela de Duero (De la Fuente}.
3 See Relation, ix. § 1.
CH. XXX.] SORIA. 631
from that moment my misgivings began to lessen. The truth
is, there was another reason, not to be told here. Neverthe
less, he really did me a great service, for he made me feel
safe by means of passages from the Holy Scripture, which
is a way that has most effect upon me when I am certain that
he who speaks understands it, and is also of good life : I was
certain of both in his case.
2. The letter was written by him in Soria, where he
then was. He told me that a lady, who was his penitent there,
had spoken to him about founding a monastery of our nuns,
of which he approved ; that he had promised her he would
persuade me to go and make a foundation there ; that I must
not fail him; and that if I thought it right to do so I was to
let him know, and that he wrould send for me. I was very
glad, for, setting aside that it would be a good work to make
a foundation there, I wished to make known to him certain
matters relating to the state of my soul, and also to see him,
because I have a great affection for him, the fruit of the
great service he has done me.
3. The lady the foundress was Dona Beatriz de Vea-
monte and Navarre — for she was descended from the kings of
Navarre — the child of Don Francis de Veamonte,1 of noble
and illustrious lineage. She had been a wife for some years,
had no children, was exceedingly wealthy, and for some time
past had resolved to found a monastery of nuns. She spoke
of it to the bishop, and he told her of the order of our Lady,
the barefooted Carmelites. She was so pleased that she made
great haste to carry out her purpose. She is very gentle,
generous, and mortified ; in a word, a very great servant of
God. She had in Soria an excellent house, well built and
in a very good situation, and said that she would give it to
1 He was captain of the emperor's guard, and his daughter was
married to Don Juan de Vinuessa, a great man in Soria, who was at
this time dead. Dona Beatriz had a nephew, Don Francisco Carlo de
Veamonte, who expected to inherit her possessions, and who was
very angry with the Saint because she accepted his aunt's money.
Fifteen years after this he saw the Saint, then dead, in a vision, and
changed his life, retired from the world, and lived most holily, pro
fessed in the third order of S. Francis in Villa de Arebalo (Reforma,
lib. v. ch xx. § 7). Dona Beatriz some years later helped to found
another monastery in Pamplona. In that house she took the habit
herself as Beatriz of Christ, and died there, full of years and good
deeds, in 1602 (Yepes, ii. 33).
632 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXX.
us, with everything else that might be wanted for the founda
tion. She gave it, together with a sum of money which would
bring in five hundred ducats a year. The bishop undertook
to give a very fine church with a stone roof ; it was the parish
church close by, which would have been useful with a gallery
leading into it. He might very well give it, for it was poor,
and there were so many churches in the town, and he could
assign the parish to another church. He gave me an account
of all this in his letter. I discussed the whole matter with the
father provincial, who was then here, who with all my friends
decided that I was to write by a special messenger and say
they might come for me, for the foundation of Palencia was
now made. I was very glad of it for the reason I gave before.
4. I began to collect the nuns I was to take with me :
they were seven — the lady would rather have had more than
fewer — with one lay sister,1 my companion, and myself. A
person came for us at once and in haste ; and, as I told him
I would bring with me two barefooted friars, I took the
father Fra Nicholas of Jesus Maria,2 a man of great perfection
and discernment — a Genoese by birth.
5. He was more than forty years old, I believe, when he
received the habit — at least he is now upwards of forty, and
it was not long ago — but he has made such great progress in
1 From Salamanca the Saint sent for Mary of Christ and Mary of
Jesus; from Segovia, Juana Bautista and Mary of S. Joseph; from
Medina, Catherine of Christ, who was to be prioress, Catherine of
the Holy Ghost, and a lay sister, Marn Bautista. Dona Beatriz
sent her chaplain; the bishop of Osma sent his also, with a man to
provide for them on the road; while the bishop of Palencia sent a
minor canon of his church, afterwards the canon Pedro de Ribera
Reforma, lib. v. ch. xx. § 5). The Saint speaks of him below, § 12.
2 Nicholas Doria was born in Genoa, May 18, 1539, the son of
Domenico and Maria Doria. He came to Spain and settled in Seville.
He was not there long before he saw the vanity of human success
and the uncertainty of worldly honours. He gave up the world —
became a priest. He had been long ago acquainted with Fra Mariano,
who, going to Seville in 1573, brought him into relations with the
Carmelites and S. Teresa herself. In the end he was won to the new
order, and became a novice 24th March, 1577, and was professed in
Seville March 25, 1580 (Reforma, lib. iv. ch. xxix. §§ 2-6). He was of
great service to the Saint during the trouble, and was looked on as the
type of a zealous Carmelite, more rigid than Fra Jerome of the
Mother of God, but apparently more trusted by his brethren. He was
the first vicar-general of the reform in Spain.
C1I. XXX.] SORIA. 633
a short time that it is clear our Lord chose him to help the
order, which he did, in these days of persecution, which
were so full of trouble, because the others who could have
helped us were some of them in exile, others in prison.
He, as he held no office — for, as I have said, he had not been
long in the order — was not thought so much of : that was the
work of God, that he might remain to help me. He is very
prudent, for when he was staying in the monastery of the
mitigation in Madrid he was so reserved, as if he had other
affairs to transact, that they never discovered he was engaged
in ours, and so allowed him to remain. We wrote to each
other continually, for I was then in the monastery of St.
Joseph's in Avila,1 and discussed what was necessary to be
done, which was a comfort to him. This shows the diffi
culties of the order at that time, seeing that they made so
much of me, according to the saying,2 "For want of better."
During the whole of this time I had experience of his perfec
tion and prudence, and hence he is one of those in the order
for whom I have a great affection in our Lord, and highly
esteem.
6. He, then, with a companion, a lay brother,3 went
with us. I had no trouble on the road, for he whom the bishop
had sent for us took great care of us, and helped us to the
utmost of his power to find good lodgings, for when we
entered the diocese of Osma the people provided us with good
lodgings on being told that our coming was the bishop's
doing, so great is their affection for him. The weather was
fine, and we made short journeys, so that there was no fatigue
in travelling, only joy, for it was to me an exceeding great
joy to listen to what people said of the holy life of the bishop.
7. We arrived at Burgo4 the day before the octave of
1 The Saint went from Toledo to Avila in July, 1577, when she
placed the monastery under the jurisdiction of the order, and re
mained there till June 25, 1579, returning thither again November 19,
Soon after that she began again to make new foundations.
2 A falta de hombres buenos; this is an allusion to an old prov;rb,
A falta de buenos, mi marido alcalde (De la Fuente) — for want of good
men they made my husband a judge.
3 Fra Eliseus of the Mother of God (Rejorma, lib. v. ch. xx. § 5).
* Not Burgos in old Castille, an episcopal city raised in 1574 to l!:e
rank of an archbishopric but Burgo de Osma: Osma being on one
side of the river Duero, and decayed; Burgo being on the other
(Bollandists, No. 926).
634 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXX.
Corpus Christi, and went to Communion on Thursday, which
was the day of the octave, the morning after our arrival, and
dined there, because we could not reach Soria that day. That
night we spent in a church, for there was no other place to
lodge in, and no harm came of it. The next morning we heard
mass there, and reached Soria about five in the afternoon.1
The saintly bishop was at a window of his house2 when we
passed, and thence gave us his blessing; it was a great com
fort to me, for the blessing of a bishop and a saint is a great
thing.
8. The lady the foundress was waiting for us at the door
of her own house, for it was there the monastery was to be
founded : we did not see how to make our way in, because
of the great crowd present. That was nothing new, for
wherever we go, so fond is the world of novelties, the crowd
is so great as to be a grave annoyance were it not that we
cover our faces with our veils; that enables us to bear it.
The lady had a very large and very fine room made ready,
wherein mass was to be said for the present, because a pas
sage had to be made into the church which the bishop was to
give us, and forthwith the next day mass was said in honour
of our father S. Eliseus.3 The lady most abundantly furnished
1 Father Francis de Ribera, S. J., says that he saw the Saint in
Soria on his return from Rome, as he had done the year before in
Valladolid when he was setting out on his journey. He stopped four
days in Soria, but did not know for three days that the Saint was in
the town. He speaks most pathetically of the loss he sustained by this,
for it was the last time he ever saw her in this world (Ribera, iii. 11).
2 The bishop was then a guest in the house of Don Juan de
Castilla (Re forma, lib. v. ch. xx. § 3).
3 The octave of Corpus Christi in 1581 fell on the 1st of June; but
if the Saint reached Soria, as it seems from the text, on the evening
of Friday, June 2, there must be some mistake about the feast of S.
Eliseus, which according to the calendar falls on the 14th of June.
The Bollandists suggest that the mistake arose from the fact, if fact
it was, that a votive mass of S. Eliseus was said on Saturday, June
3 (see No. 929). In the chronicle of the order Fra Francis de Santa
Maria says that the Saint left Palencia in the beginning of June, and
that she arrived in Soria on Friday, June 13, the feast of S. Antony of
Padua (Reforma, lib. v. ch. xv. § 3). And his statement presents
another difficulty: how could he say so when he had the Book of the
Foundations before him, in which the Saint says that she kept the
octave of Corpus Christi in Burgo de Osma? On the other hand, it
CH. XXX.] SORIA. 635
everything that we had need of, and left us in that room,
wherein we kept ourselves enclosed until the passage was
made, remaining there till the Transfiguration.1
9. On that day the first mass was said with great solem
nity, a large congregation being present in the church. A
father of the society2 preached, the bishop having gone to
Burgo, for he never loses a day or an hour, but is always
at work, though he is not strong, and the sight of one of his
eyes is gone. I had this sorrow there, for it was a very great
grief to me that his sight, which was so profitable in the service
of our Lord, was lost. God's judgments are His own. This
must have happened to enable His servant to gain more
merit, and to try his resignation to His will, for he did not
refrain from labouring as he did before. He told me that
he did not grieve over his loss any more than if it had
happened to another. He felt sometimes that he should not
think it a matter of regret if he lost the sight of the other
eye, for he would then live in a hermitage, serving God without
further obligation. That was always his vocation before he
was made bishop, and he spoke of it to me occasionally, and
had almost made up his mind to give up everything and go.
I could not bear that, because I thought that as a bishop he
would be of great service in the church of God, and accord
ingly wished him to be what he is, though on the day he was
offered the bishopric — he sent word of it to me at once —
I fell into very great distress about it, seeing him laid under
so heavy a burden, and I could neither rest nor be at ease. I
went into the choir and prayed for him to our Lord, and His
Majesty made me calm in a moment, saying to me that he
would serve Him greatly ; and so it seems.
10. Notwithstanding the loss of an eye, certain other
very painful infirmities, and unceasing work, he fasts four
days in the week, and inflicts other penances on himself; his
food is very plain. When he visits the diocese he goes or
foot; his servants cannot bear it, and have complained of it
might be held that the order at this time kept the feast of S. Eliseus
on the 4th of June, for in the memorials sent to the chapter in Alcala
in 1581 Isabel of Jesus is said to have made her profession in Sala
manca June 4, on the feast of S. Eliseus, 1573, of our order.
1 August 6th. On the feast of the Assumption following the Saint
gave the habit to two novices (Reforma, lib. v. ch. xx. § 5).
2 The preacher was father Francis Carrera (Ribera, iii. 11).
636 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXX.
to me. His servants must be pious persons, or they may
not remain in his house. He does not trust important affairs
to his vicars-general ; they must pass through his hands, and
indeed I think everything does. For the first two years
of his episcopate here he underwent a most unrelenting per
secution from false witnesses, at which I was amazed, for in
the administration of justice he is upright and true. That
has now come to an end, for, though people went to the court
to complain of him, and to every other place where they
thought they could work evil against him, they did not prevail,
for the good he was doing throughout his diocese became
known. He bore it all so perfectly that he made them
ashamed, doing good to those whom he knew to be doing evil
to him. Though he had much to do he never failed to find
time for prayer.
11. It seems to me that I am carried away when I praise
this holy man — and I have not said much — but I have done
so that people may know who it was that really began the
foundation of the Most Holy Trinity in Soria, and for the
consolation of those who have to dwell there. My labour is
not thrown away, and they who are there now know it well.
Though he did not endow us he gave us the church, and it
was he, as I am saying,1 who put it into the heart of that
lady to make the foundation, and he was, as I said before,
a man of great piety, goodness, and penance.
12. Then, when the passage leading into the church
was made, and everything necessary for our enclosure ar
ranged, it became necessary I should return to the monas
tery of S. Joseph in Avila ; and so I went away at once in the
great heat.,2 the road being very bad for the carriage. Ribera,
'§2.
2 The Saint left Soria August 16, 1581, reached Burgo de Osma
on the 18th, was in Segovia on the 23rd, and arrived in Avila Sep
tember 5th. The monastery which she had founded, and which she
had carefully trained, was now, to the great distress of the Saint, less
fervent in spirit, and therefore in great temporal need. The nuns
had been too much indulged by an indiscreet confessor, who dis
pensed with the observance of the rule and constitutions without
difficulty. The presence of the Saint changed all that was amiss, and
on the arrival of the provincial, to whom the state of the convent
was made known — he came to Avila from Salamanca, where he had
been occupied in founding the college of the friars — and with his
consent, and desired by the nuns, Mary of Christ gladly resigned her
CH. XXX.] SORIA. 637
a minor canon of Palencia, went with me ; he had been a very
great help in the making of the passage into the church,
and in everything, for the father Nicholas of Jesus Maria had
gone away as soon as the deeds relating to the foundation
were drawn out, being very much wanted elsewhere. Ribera
had business in Soria when we were going thither, and went
with us. From that time forth God gave him such an earnest
desire to do us good, that we may therefore pray to His
Majesty for him among the benefactors of the order. I
would not have anybody else travel with me and my com
panion, for he was enough, because he is so careful, and the
more quietly we travel the better am I on the road.1
place of prioress. (Yepes, ii. 34.) The nuns then elected S. Teresa
prioress, September 10, 1581, but she withheld her consent on the
ground of her age and need of rest. The provincial, Fra Jerome,
bade her kiss the ground, whereupon the nuns intoned the Te Deurn,
and led her into her seat in the choir. The provincial, to make her
burden as light as he could, gave her as sub-prioress Alary of S.
Jerome (Reforma, lib. v ch. xxi. § 3; Fra Anton., note to Lett. 347,
but Lett. 82 vol. iii. ed. Doblado). The monastery, which had elected
her "through sheer hunger," as she says (Lett. 355, but Lett. 100
vol ii ed. Doblado), recovered itself temporally and spiritually, but
not without much trouble to the Saint, for the nuns had been re
ceiving dispensations without discretion from the confessor, who was
none other than Julian of Avila, her great friend, but who in this
instance seems not to have undertsood her spirit, or the ends she had
in view in making this reform. She complains of him to the pro
vincial in a letter written to him in the following October, and deplores
the sad results of his negligent direction, and ends by saying, "God
deliver me from confessors who have been so for many years"
(Lett. 352, but Lett. 42 vol. ii. cd. Doblado).
1 Diego de Yepes, her biographer, met her in Burgo de Osma on
the 18th. He was then on his way to Rioja, his priorate in Zamora
ended. He had heard from his friend the bishop, Don Alonzo
Velasquez, that the Saint was expected. She arrived about eight
o'clock in the evening, and Yepes went to receive her on her alighting
from the carriage. Yepes spoke to her, and she asked him who he
was. He answered, "Fra Diego de Yepes," and the Saint made no
reply. Fra Diego was uneasy, thinking that either the Saint had
forgotten him or that his presence was disagreeable to her. After
wards speaking to her, he asked the reason of her silence, and she
replied that it was owing to one of two things — one, that she thought
he had been penanced by his superiors, or that God wished thus to
repay her for the troubles of the foundation by meeting him there.
Yepes was pleased, and said that the first was the truth, and that God
did not intend the second. She then told him how long his penance
638 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
13. I paid now for the ease with which 1 had travelled
on this road before, for, though the young man who went
with us knew the way as far as Segovia, he did not know the
high road, and so he led us into places where we had fre
quently to dismount, and took the carriage over deep preci
pices where it almost swung in the air. If we took persons
with us to show the way, they led us as far as the roads were
safe, and left us just before we came to a difficulty, saying
that they had something to do elsewhere. Before reaching
the inns, as we had no certain knowledge of the country,
we had to bear long the great heat of the sun, and our carriage
was often in danger of being overturned. I was sorry for our
fellow-traveller, because it was often necessary to retrace
our steps, though we had been told that we were on the right
road; but in him goodness was so deeply rooted that I do
not think I ever saw him annoyed, at which I marvelled much,
and for which I gave thanks to our Lord ; for where goodness
has taken root the occasions of sin have little influence. T
give thanks to our Lord because He was pleased to save us
from the dangers of this road.
14. On the eve of S. Bartholomew we reached S. Joseph's
in Segovia where our nuns were in distress because I was
so late in coming; and I was late because the roads were bad.
There they made much of us, for God never sends me trouble
but he repays me for it forthwith. I rested for eight days and
longer; the foundation, however, was made with so very little
trouble that I think nothing of it, because it is nothing. I
came away rejoicing, for the place seemed to me to be one
where, I trust in the compassion of God, He will be served by
those who dwell there, as He is at present.1 May He be praised
and blessed for ever and for evermore ! Amen. Deo gratias.
would last, and that he would be ashamed of himself at the end
thereof: "thereby showing," says Yepes, "how well she knew my
disinclination to suffer, seeing that I made so much of trifles" (Yepes.
ii. 33).
1 The Saint made Catherine of Christ, whom she sent for from
Medina, prioress, with Beatriz of Jesus sub-prioress. Catherine was
born in Madrigal; her father, of kin to the Saint, was Christoval de
Balmaseda, and her mother was Dona Juana Bustamante y San
Martin. She gave herself up from her earliest years to penance and
good works, and went to Medina to become a Carmelite when the
Saint was making the foundation there. She was refused at first
because the house was full, but she persevered, and the Saint accepted
CH. XXXI. J BURGOS. 639
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE FOUNDATION OF THE GLORIOUS S. JOSEPH OF S. ANNE,
BURGOS THE FIRST MASS SAID APRIL XIX,1 OCTAVE OF EASTER.
1582.
1. MORE than six years ago certain members of the
Society of Jesus, men of great godliness, learning, and spirit
uality, and long professed, said to me that it would be a great
service rendered to our Lord if a house of this holy order
were founded in Burgos. They gave me some reasons in
favour of it which moved me to wish for it. The troubles
of the order, and the other foundations, left me no oppor
tunity of making it. When I was in Valladolid in the year
1580, the archbishop of Burgos2 — the archbishopric had then
been given him — came that way: he had before been bishop
of the Canaries, and was then going to take possession.
I have already spoken of the bishop of Palencia, Don Alvaro
de Mendoza, who has greatly befriended the order : he was
the first to accept the monastery of S. Joseph in Avila, where
he was bishop, and ever since he has rendered us many a
service, regarding the affairs of the order as his own, especially
those which I commended to him. I begged him to ask the
archbishop to allow us to make a foundation in Burgos, and
he most readily promised to ask, for, as he thinks our Lord
is greatly honoured in these houses, he rejoices much when
ever a house is founded.
2. The archbishop would not enter Valladolid, but took
up his lodging in the monastery of S. Jerome, where the
her. When she was sent to Soria, Fra Jerome of the Mother of God,
remonstrated with the Saint, and said that Catherine was not the
proper person to be prioress, because she could not write and had had
no experience in governing, whereupon the Saint said to the pro
vincial, "Hold your peace, father: Catherine of Christ loves God much,
is a very great saint, and requires nothing more to govern well."
(Palafox, notes to Lett. 42, vol. 1, ed. Doblado.)
1 In 1852 Easter Day fell on April 15th, and the octave day must
have been April 22nd; xix. in the text may be an error for xxii.
2 Don Christobal Vela (De la Fuente}.
640 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
bishop of Palencia entertained him sumptuously, went to dine
with him, and to give him a girdle or do some ceremony
or other which the bishop had to perform.1 He then asked
permission for me to found the monastery. The archbishop
said he would give it with pleasure: he had asked for one in
the Canaries, and had longed to have there one of these
monasteries, because he knew how much our Lord is served
in them, for he had lived in a place where one had been built,
and was well acquainted with me.2 Accordingly the bishop
told me not to wait for the licence, for the archbishop was
very glad to have the monastery; and as the council3 does
not say that the licence is to be in writing, but only that the
bishop's consent is to be had, the licence might be taken for
granted.
3. I have spoken of the great unwillingness4 I had to
make any more foundations when I was to make one before
in Palencia, for I had been very ill, so that it was thought
I could not live, and even then I was not well. Illnesses, how
ever, do not usually oppress me so much when I see that
what I have to do is for the service of God, and so I do not
know whence came such unwillingness as I felt then. It
could not have come from my scanty means, for I had less
when making other foundations. I believe it came from Satan,
now that I see the results; and so it has usually been, for
whenever I have any trouble in making a foundation our
Lord, knowing my misery, always helps me by words and
deeds. I have sometimes thought that in certain foundations,
about which I had no trouble, His Majesty never warned me
at all. It has been so in this, for, as He knew what I had to
bear, He began to encourage me from the very first. All
praise be unto Him.
4. It was so here, as in the foundation of Palencia,
already told — for the two foundations were arranged at the
same time — He asked me, as it were reproaching me, What
was I afraid of? Had He ever failed me? "I am the same:
The bishop was commissioned to deliver the pallium to the
archbishop (De la Puerile).
2 The archbishop was born in Avila (Reforma, lib. v. ch. xxiv. § 2).
3 Concil. Trident, sess. xxv. ch. iii., de Regularibus et Monialibtis;
nee de czetero similia loca erigantur sine episcopi, in ctijus dicccesi
erigenda sunt, licentia prius obtenta.
4 Ch. xxix. § 3.
ST. TERESA'S BEATIFICATION AND CANONIZATION; LESSER RELICS.
Hye Hoys del.
1. Dominic of Jesus-Maria. 2. Interior view of the Carmelite church at
Alba de Tormes; a banner hung from the vaulting, was carried during the ceremonies
of the canonisation. 3. Joint of a finger of the left hand of St. Teresa, in the
Carmelite monastery at Seville. 4. Veil of the Saint, in the Carmelite monastery
at Burgos. 5. Cloak; with the Carmelites of Seville. 6. Girdle and part of a habit,
in the Carmelite monastery at Avila. 7. Original manuscript of The Interior Castle
in the Carmelite monastery at Seville. 8. Earthen vase which St. Teresa used in
letting blood, in the Carmelite monastery at Avila. 9. Blanket, with the Carmelites
of Medina del Campo. 10. Sandal, with the Carmelites at Seville. 11. Scissors, with
XXVII.
Bruges. P R&OU.X Si;
the Carmelites at Medina del Campo. 12. Chalice veil embroidered by St. Teresa for
the first Reformed monastery in Italy; now in the Discalced monastery at Genoa.
13. Rosary of St. Teresa, in the Carmelite monastery at Avila. 14. Sandal, with
the Carmelite monastery at Burgos. 15. Shroud, with the Carmelites at Medina
del Campo. 16. Log which at one time served the Saint as a pillow, with the
Carmelites at Avila. 17. St. Teresa's inkstand, in the monastery of St. Lorenzo
I at the Escurial. 18. Arms of Clement VIII. 19. Arms of Leo XI., in whose ponti
ficate the Saint's beatification was in progress. 20. Arms of Paul V., who beatified
her. 21. Arms of Gregory XV., who canonized her. (See Appendix, note 28.)
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 641
fail not to make these two foundations."1 As I said, when
giving an account of the former foundation, what courage
these words gave me, there is no reason why I should say
it over again here. All sloth departed from me at once, and
that makes me think that the cause of it was neither my
illness nor my old age, and so I began at once to make
arrangements for both foundations, as I said before. It was
thought better to make the foundation of Palencia first,
because it was nearer, and because the weather was so severe
and Burgos so cold, and also because it would please the
good bishop of Palencia: it was therefore done, as I said
before.
5. But when I was staying in Palencia the foundation
of Soria was offered, and I thought that, as everything was
settled in Palencia, it would be best to go thither first, and
thence to Burgos. The bishop of Palencia thought it right,
and I begged him to do so, to give the archbishop an account
of what was going on; and so after I had gone to Soria he
sent the canon Juan Alonso to the archbishop on that business
alone. The archbishop, in a letter to me, said with great
affection that he desired my coming; made arrangements with
the canon and wrote to the bishop, putting himself in his
hands; that he was influenced by his knowledge of Burgos
in what he did; that I must come in with the consent of the
town ; in short, the conclusion was that I was to go and treat
in the first place with the city, and if it refused permission
his hands could not be tied, nor himself hindered, from giving
it; that he was present when the first monastery was founded
in Avila, and remembered the great trouble and opposition
I had to bear; that he wished in this way to guard against
the same thing here ; that it would not be right to found
the monastery unless with an endowment, or with the consent
of the city — a condition I did not like, and therefore he spoke
of it.
6. When the archbishop said I was to go thither the
bishop looked on the affair as settled, and with reason; so
he sent me word that we were to go. But to me there seemed
a want of courage in the archbishop, and I wrote to thank
him for his kindness to me, saying that it would be worse
if the city refused its consent than if we made the foundation
without saying anything about it, because it would bring
1 See above, ch. xxix. § 6.
642 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
more trouble on his Grace. I think I saw beforehand how
little we could rely on him if any opposition were made to my
obtaining the licence; and, besides, I looked on it as a difficult
matter on account of the contradictory opinions usual on
such occasions.1 I wrote to the bishop of Palencia entreating
him that, as the summer was nearly over, and my infirmities
such as to disable me from staying in so cold a climate, the
matter might rest for the present. He was hurt because the
archbishop made so many difficulties after showing such good
dispositions before, and so I said nothing of my suspicions,
to avoid causing disagreements — for they are friends — and
went from Soria to Avila, very far from thinking at the time
that I should have to return so soon : my going to the house
of S. Joseph in Avila was very necessary for many reasons.2
7. There dwelt in the city of Burgos a holy widow,
Catalina de Tolosa, a Biscayan by birth, of whose goodness,
penance, and prayer, great almsgiving and charity, good sense,
and courage I could speak at great length. She had placed
two of her daughters as nuns in the monastery of our Lady
of the Conception in Valladolid — four years ago, I think —
and two others in Palencia.3 She waited till that house was
founded, and brought them thither before I went away from
that foundation.
8. The four nuns have turned out as children of such a
mother; they are like angels. She gave them a good dowry
and everything else most abundantly, for she herself is very
wealthy ; in all her ways she is most generous, and can be so,
for she is rich. When she came to Palencia we considered
the archbishop's consent so certain that we did not think
there was any reason for delay, and so I asked her to find
me a house we might hire in order to take possession, to set
up the grating and the turn, and put it to my account, never
thinking she would spend any money of her own, but only
that she would lend it to me. So earnestly did she desire
1 See Lett. 345; Lett. 40 vol. iii. ed. Doblado, written in Soria,
July 13, 1581, addressed to the canon Don Jerome Reinoso,
wherein the Saint speaks of her distrust of the archbishop.
2 See ch. xxx. § 11, note.
* These were Catherine of the Assumption and Casilda of the
Holy Angel in Valladolid, Mary of S. Joseph and Isabel of the Trinity
in Palencia (Fra Antonio's note to Lett. 374; but Lett. 72 vol. ii. ed.
Doblado).
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 643
this foundation that she felt very much the putting' it oft at
that time, and so after my departure for Avila, as I have just
said, having no thought whatever of making the foundation
then, she gave herself no rest, but thinking there was nothing
more to be done except getting the permission of the city,
began to solicit it without saying a word to me about it
9. She had two neighbours, persons of importance, and
very great servants of God, who desired the foundation greatly
— a mother and her daughter. The mother, Dona Maria
Manrique, had a son who was a magistrate, Don Alonso de
Santo Domingo Manrique ; the daughter was called Dona
Catalina. Those two ladies discussed the matter with him
that he might ask the consent of the council of the city. H$
spoke to Catalina de Tolosa, and asked her what he was to
say about our means of subsistence, for the council would
not consent if we had none. She replied that she woul$
bind herself — and so she did — to give us a house if we wanted
one, and maintain us, and thereupon presented a petition
signed with her name. Don Alonso managed the matter
so skilfully that he obtained leave from all the magistrates,
went to the archbishop, and showed him the permission in
writing. Immediately after she entered on the business she
sent me word by letter that she was arranging it. I looked
on it as something not serious, because I knew what difficul
ties people make about monasteries founded in poverty; and
as I did not know, and as it had never entered into my
mind, that she had bound herself as she had done, I thought
that much more was still to be done.
10. However, one day within the octave of Saint Martin,
when I was commending the matter to our Lord, I considered
what was to be done if the licence were granted; for, as to
my going myself to Burgos, that I looked on as impossible
because I was so ill, the place being so cold, and cold being
very bad for my illness ; it would be rash to undertake so long
a journey when I had but just made so difficult a journey
as was that from Soria already mentioned ; besides .the father
provincial would not let me go.1 I thought the prioress of
1 It appears from Lett. 340; Lett. 30 vol. iii. ed. Doblado, that the
provincial, Fra Jerome of the Mother of God, had even laid his com
mands on the Saint in the matter, and that she was therefore not to
travel Ln the winter to Burgos. The letter was written in Soria July
14, 1581.
644 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
Palencia1 might do as well, for as everything was settled there
would be nothing for her to do.
11. While I was thinking thus, and greatly bent on not
going, our Lord spoke these words to me, which showed me
that permission had been given : — "Do not mind the cold :
I am the true warmth : Satan is exerting all his strength to
hinder the foundation: do thou exert thine on My behalf that
it may be made, and go thyself without fail, for the fruits of it
will be great." Thereupon I changed my mind: though nature
sometimes rebels when I have difficult things to do, my reso
lution to suffer for God, who is so great, never wavers, and
so I ask Him not to regard those feelings of weakness, hut
to bid me do whatever is pleasing to Himself, for I shall not
fail to do it by the help of His grace. The snow was then
on the ground, but what most disheartened me was my
wretched health, for had I been well I believe I should have
thought nothing of the journey. It was my want of health
that most frequently wearied me while making this founda
tion; the cold was nothing — at least, I did not feel it — certainly
not more, I think, than I did in Toledo. What our Lord said
to me He amply fulfilled.
12. There was a delay of few days in bringing me the
licence, with letters from Catalina de Tolosa and her friend
Dona Catalina pressing me to make haste; they feared some
disaster, for the order of Minims2 had come to make a founda
tion there, and the Carmelites of the mitigation also had been
there for some time labouring for a like end. Afterwards
came the monks of S. Basil,3 which might have been a hind
rance : it was a matter of wonder that so many came at the
same time with us, and a reason also for giving thanks to our
Lord for the great charity of the place, seeing that the city
gave its permission most willingly, though it was not now so
prosperous as it had been. I had always heard people praise
the charitableness of the city, but I never thought it was so
great. Some helped one order, some another; but the arch-
1 Isabel of Jesus, born in Segovia, and professed in Salamanca
June 4, 1573 (De la Fuente, vol. ii. p. 368).
3 La Orden de los Vitorinos. In Spain the Minims of S. Francis
de Paula are called ordinarily frailes Vitorios (De la Fuente}.
3 Perhaps of the reform of the venerable Mateo de la Fuente (see
ch. xvii. § 7, note), whom Gregory XIII. had made subject to one
general in 1579.
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 645
bishop, thinking of all the difficulties that might arise, forbade
it, for he considered that a new house would be a wrong done
to the orders founded in poverty, in that they would not be
able to maintain themselves; and perhaps these had applied
to him themselves, or it may be that the devil suggested it
in order to do away with the good which God works wherever
many monasteries are built, for He is able to maintain many as
easily as few.
13. This was the reason why those saintly ladies pressed
me so earnestly: if I had had my will I should have set out
at once, but as it was I had matters to attend to, for I con
sidered that I was more bound not to miss an opportunity
myself than they were whom I saw taking so much pains.
I understood by the words1 I had heard that there was much
opposition — from whom or whence it was to come I knew not,
because Catalina de Tolosa had already written to me to
say that she had the house in which she lived secured for
the purpose of taking possession, that the city had consented,
and the archbishop also : I could not imagine from whom this
opposition was to come which the devils were to raise, yet
for all this I never doubted that the words I had heard were
the words of God. In short, His Majesty gives to superiors
greater light, for when I wrote to the father provincial about
my going, because I knew I was to do so, he did not hinder
me, but he asked me if I had the licence of the archbishop
in writing. I answered that they had written to me from
Burgos saying that they had arranged with him, that the
consent of the city had been asked and obtained, and that the
archbishop was satisfied with it : this, together with all he had
said about the matter, seemed to leave no room for doubt.
14. The father provincial2 would go with us to make the
foundation, partly because he was then to be at leisure, for
1 See before, § 11.
2 The Saint went from Avila on Monday, January 2, 1582, and
arrived in Medina del Campo on Wednesday the 4th, staying there
till Monday the 9th, when she started for Valladolid (Lett. 370; Lett.
61 vol. ii. ed. Doblado). She was detained for four days in Valladolid
by illness, but reached Palencia on Monday the 16th, intending to
leave on the Friday following if the weather should be favourable
(Lett. 374; Lett. 72 vol. ii. ed. Doblado). Fra. Jerome, the provincial,
came, it seems, from Salamanca, having two friars with him — one Fra
Pedro of the Purification (Yepes, ii. 34; Reforma, lib. v. ch. xxv. § 5);
the other may have been a lay brother.
646 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
he had just finished preaching in Advent, and had to go to
Soria to make a visitation — he had not seen that monastery
since it was founded, and it was not much out of his road —
and partly that he might look after my health on the journey,
because the weather was so severe and I so old and sickly,
and because my life was thought to be of some importance.
It was certainly a providence of God, for the roads were in
such a state — deep under water — that it was highly necessary
for him and his companions to go on before to see where we
could pass, and to help to drag the carriages out of the mud,
especially on the road from Palencia to Burgos. It was an
act of great hardihood for us to set out from the former place
when we did.
15. The truth is, our Lord had said to me that we might
go on safely — not to be afraid — for He would be with us.
This, however, I did not make known to the father pro
vincial, but it was a comfort amidst the great difficulties and
dangers of the road, especially in one spot near Burgos called
the Floating Bridges: there the waters had risen so high,
and for some time, that we could not see the road nor know
where to go to : there was nothing but water, and on either side
of us exceedingly deep. In short, it is an act of great rashness
to travel that way, especially with carriages, which if they
swerved but a little would be all lost, and accordingly we
saw one of them in danger.
16. From a miserable inn on the road we took a guide
who knew the passage ; it certainly was a very dangerous
one. Then, the lodgings we found ! for it was impossible to
make the usual day's journey because of the state of the
roads ; the carriages continually sunk deep into the mire, and
the mules had to be taken out of one carriage to drag out
the other. The fathers who were with us had much to suffer,
for we happened to have drivers who were young and very
careless. It was a great relief that we were travelling with
the father provincial, for he took care of everything, and is
of so even a temper that all that happened seemed not to
trouble him at all, and so he made light of that which was
great, so that it seemed to be nothing — not so, however, at the
Floating Bridges, for he was then not without fear, for when
I saw ourselves go into a world of water without a way or a
boat, notwithstanding the encouragement of our Lord I was
not without fear myself : what, then, must my companions
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 647
have felt?1 We were eight on the road: two were to return
with me, five to remain in Burgos — four choir and one lay
sister.2
17. I do not think I have yet mentioned the name of the
father provincial ;3 he is Fra Jerome Gratian of the Mother of
God, of whom I have spoken in other places. I was myself
suffering from a very severe sore throat, which I caught on
the road to Valladolid, nor had the fever left me, and as the
pain therefrom was great it hindered me from feeling much
the incidents of the journey. I have that sore throat even now
at the end of June,4 and, though it is not nearly so sharp as it
was, it is still very painful. The nuns were all happy, for
once the danger passed it was a pleasure to speak of it. It is
a grand thing to suffer under obedience, especially for those
who live under it so continually as these nuns do.
18. We reached Burgos by this dangerous road, through
the deep waters there before the entrance of the city. Our
father would have us go first of all to visit the Miraculous
1 The nuns went to confession, and then, asking their mother to
bless them, recited the Credo. The Saint, though not wholly without
fear, looked cheerful, and insisted on going on first of all before the
rest, charging them, if she were drowned, to return. She went on,
and the rest followed in safety (Ribera, iii. 13). On entering the
waters the Saint heard our Lord say to her, "Fear not, my daughter;
I am here" (Yepes, ii. 34).
2 The Saint took Tomasina of the Baptist from the monastery in
Alba de Tormes; from Valladolid, Catherine of the Assumption,
daughter of Dona Catalina de Tolosa, and Catherine of Jesus. From
Palencia the Saint took Inez of the Cross, having left Avila with her
constant companion the venerable Anne of S. Bartholomew, with
another lay sister, Mary of the Baptist, who was to remain in Burgos.
She also took with her Teresa of Jesus, her own niece, who with Anne
of S. Bartholomew was to return with her to Avila. Sister Tomasina
was made prioress, and Catherine of Jesus, from Valladolid, sub-
prioress (Re forma, lib. v. ch. xxv. § 4; and ch. xxvi. § 5).
3 The Saint had spoken of him before, and of his election (see
ch. xxix. § 24), but it is probable that her meaning is that she had not
done so in this chapter and the one immediately preceding, which it
is not unlikely were written some time after ch. xxix., which when
she had ended she may have regarded as the last of her book. See
the next note.
4 It seems from this that the Saint wrote this chapter about three
months before her death (De la Fuente}. On the 3rd of August the
sore throat was gone, as she says in a letter to the prioress of Burgos
(Lett. 394; Lett. 71 vol. iv. ed. Doblado).
648 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
Crucifix1 to recommend to Him our business, and wait there
till night came on, for it was still early. We arrived on
Friday, January 26th, the day after the feast of the Conversion
of Saint Paul. Our intention was to make the foundation
at once, and I had with me many letters from the canon
Salinas2 — he is spoken of in the history of the foundation of
Palencia, where his labours in our behalf were not less than
they were here — and from persons of consideration urging
their relatives and others, their friends, most earnestly
to befriend us in our work: they did so, for imme
diately, the next day, they came to see me, and in
the city they were not sorry for the promise they had
made, but were glad that I had come, and I was to consider
wherein they could be of service to me. If we had any fears
at all, they arose from our doubts about the city, now we
found everything smooth; and before any could know of our
coming — for there was no going to the house of the good
Catalina de Tolosa in that very heavy rain — we intended to
inform the archbishop of it, that we might have the first mass
said at once, as in almost all places; but it was not done on
account of the weather.
19. We rested that night in great comfort furnished us
by that saintly woman ; nevertheless it brought suffering to
me, for there was a great fire made for us to dry ourselves
at, which, though in a chimney, did me so much harm that I
could not raise my head the next day; I had therefore to lie
down when speaking to those who came to see me through a
window with a grating, over which we drew a curtain;3
1 "El Santo Crucifijo." The celebrated crucifix of Burgos in the
church of the Augustinian friars {De la Fuente) outside the gates of the
city, near the bridge of S. Mary. Bollandists, note to Ribera, No. 29.
3 See above, ch. xxix. § 10.
* Doctor Manso, afterwards bishop of Calahorra, and men
tioned by the Saint below, § 22, in his deposition in the process of
the Saint's beatification (De la Fuente, ii. 379), said that he visited
them in the house of Dona Catherine, when ill in bed, unable to rise;
there was a window in her room opening into the corridor, which
window had a grating, and a curtain behind it as in a monastery.
He spoke to her, but saw her not, and adds that, going to see her
in the conviction that she was a great Saint and friend of God,
"Conturbata sunt viscera mea, et inhorruerunt j>ili carnis mece, through
fear and reverence; and from that time forth I am fully persuaded
that the Mother Teresa of Jesus must have been a great pillar of the
Church of God."
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 649
and, as it was a day in which I was obliged to settle many
matters, it was very painful to me. Early in the morning
the father provincial went to his Grace to ask his blessing,
for we thought that was all we had to do. He found him
changed, and angry at my coming without his leave, as if
he had never sent for me or meddled at all in the matter;
and accordingly he spoke to the father provincial in great
wrath against me. Then, admitting that he had sent for me,
he said he meant I was to come alone to arrange the affair
with him; but to come with so many nuns, God deliver us
from the annoyance it gave him! To tell him that we had
already arranged with the city, as he had asked us to do ; that
there was nothing more to be done but to make the foundation ;
and that the bishop of Palencia, when I asked him if I should
do right in going without informing his Grace, had told me it
was not necessary to do so, because he wished the foundation
to be made — was all to no purpose whatever. The matter
stood thus, and God willed the foundation of the house, and
the archbishop himself said so afterwards, for if we had plainly
told him we were coming he would have forbidden us to come.
Thereupon he dismissed the father provincial, telling him that
unless we were endowed and had a house of our own he never
would give his consent: we might as well return: the roads
were so good, and the weather so fine !
20. O my Lord, how true it is that he who shall render
Thee a service is immediately rewarded by a great cross!
And what a priceless reward it is if they \vho truly love Thee
only knew its value at the time ! But we did not then desire
the reward, because it seemed to make the foundation alto
gether impossible, for the archbishop said besides, that the
endowment and the house we were to buy were not to be taken
out of any dowry the nuns might bring with them. Then, as
we were not thinking of that in times like the present, it be
came clear enough that we were helpless : not so to me, how
ever, for I always felt assured that all this was for the best— a
plot of Satan to hinder the foundation — and that God would
prosper His work. Herewith came away the provincial very
joyous, for he was not troubled in the least at it: God so
ordained it that he might not be vexed with me because I had
not obtained the licence in writing, as he had told me to do.1
21. There were then with me some of the friends to
1 See § 13.
650 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
whom the canon Salinas had written, as I said before; and
they resolved, his kinsmen agreeing with them, that the arch
bishop should be asked to give permission for the celebration
of mass in the house, that we might not have to go out into
the streets, which were very dirty: it was not seemly that
we should go out, being barefooted. There was a suitable
room in the house which had been the church of the Society
of Jesus when they came to Burgos, and which they used for
more than ten years ; we therefore saw nothing unseemly in
taking possession there till we had a house of our own. We
were never able to persuade him to let us hear mass therein,
though two canons went to him to beg for leave. All that we
got from him was, that an endowment being assured the
foundation might be made there till we bought a house, and
to obtain this we were to give security for the purchase of a
house, and we were not to leave the place we were in.
22. The sureties we found at once, for the friends of the
canon Salinas offered themselves, and Catalina de Tolosa
offered an endowment. Meanwhile, in discussing how much it
was to be, and in what way it was to be secured, more than
three weeks must have gone by, and we not hearing mass
except on holy days very early in the morning, myself in a
fever and very ill. Catalina de Tolosa, however, was so kind
to us, and took such care of me, and fed us the whole of that
month as cheerfully as if she had been the mother of every one
of us, in a part of the house where we lived by ourselves.
The father provincial and his companions were lodged in the
house of a friend of his — they had been at college together1—
the doctor Manso,2 canon-preacher in the cathedral ; he was
excessively harassed by his detention there so long, and yet
could not see his way to leave us.
1 In the university of Alcala de Henares (Reforma, lib. v. ch. xxvi.
§ 7).
a The Saint had a great respect for the canon Manso, chose him
for her confessor, and even gave him her books to read, and told
him that he would be a bishop (Reforma, lib. v. ch. xxv. § 7). His
nephew Don Pedro Manso, president of the royal council and patri
arch of the Indies, in his deposition taken in the process of the
Saint's beatification (De la Fuente, ii. 381), where it is more accurately
given than in the chronicle, says that his uncle Dr. Manso — after
wards the bishop of Calahorra — heard the confession of the Saint,
and always on his return home would say, "Blessed be God, blessed be
God! but I would rather dispute with all the theologians in the world
than with this woman."
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 651
23. When the sureties had been found and the endow
ment settled, the archbishop told us to give the papers to the
vicar-general, and then everything would be settled imme
diately. Satan — it must have been so — did not fail to run
to him also, for after a long consideration of the matter, when
we were thinking that there could be no grounds for further
delay, and when a month had been spent in persuading the
archbishop to be pleased with what we were doing, the vicar-
general sent me a note in which he said that the licence would
not be granted till we had a house of our own ; that the
archbishop now did not like us to make the foundation in the
house we were staying in, because it was damp and in a street
that was very noisy; and then, as for the security of the en
dowment, I know not what difficulties and objections he made,
as if the matter were then discussed for the first time; that
there must be no further debate, and the archbishop must be
plea-sed with the house.
24. When the father provincial heard of it he was greatly
moved — so were we all — for plainly much time is necessary for
buying a place for a monastery ; it distressed him to see us
go out of the house for mass, for, though the church was
not far off, and we heard it in a chapel therein unseen of all,
yet for the father provincial and ourselves it was a very great
burden. Then it was, I think, he made up his mind that we
must go away. I could not bear to do that : when I remem
bered what our Lord had said to me,1 that I was to make
this foundation for Him, I was so confident it would be made
that scarcely anything vexed me ; but I was in distress about
the father provincial, and was very sorry he had come with us.
not knowing at the time how much his friends were to do for
us, as I shall tell by and by.
25. When I was in this distress, which pressed heavily
on my companions also, though I did not concern myself
about them, but only about the provincial, our Lord — I was
not in prayer — said to me these words, "Now, Teresa, be
strong." Thereupon, with greater earnestness, I begged the
father provincial to go away and leave us. And His Majesty
must have brought him to this, for Lent was nigh at hand,
and he was obliged to go and preach.2
1 See above, § 11.
2 He had to preach in Valladolid during Lent (Re for ma, lib. v. ch.
xxvii. § 1. See below, § 29).
652 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
26. He and his friends contrived to have rooms assigned
us in the hospital of the Conception ; the Most Holy Sacrament
was there, and mass was said every day. This gave him some
pleasure, but he had not a little to go through in getting it
for us, for the one good room there had been taken by a
widow in the town, who not only would not lend it to us,
though she was not going into it for the next half-year, but
was angry because they had given us certain rooms in the
upper part of the hospital under the roof, one of them forming
a passage into her room. She was not satisfied with locking
it on the outside, but must have bars put across it on the inside.
Besides, the brethren thought we were to make the hospital
our own — an impracticable imagination, but God would have
us merit more thereby; they made us promise, the father
provincial and myself, before a notary, that we would, on being
told to quit the place, do so at once. This was the hardest
thing for me, for I was afraid the widow, who was wealthy
and had relatives there, would, whenever she took a fancy to
do so, compel us to go away. The father provincial, however,
was wiser than I, and would have everything done according
to their wishes, that we might go in at once; they gave us
but two rooms and a kitchen. But a great servant of God,
Hernando de Matanza, was in charge of the hospital, and
gave us two others for a parlour, and was very kind to us,
as he is indeed to everybody, and does much for the poor.
Francisco de Cuevas also was kind to us; he has much to do
with the hospital, and is postmaster here; he was always
kind to us when he had the opportunity.
27. I have given the names of those who were our bene
factors in the beginning, that the nuns now there, and those
who shall come after them, may, as is fitting, remember them
in their prayers ; they are the more bound to do so for founders,
and, though at first I did not intend, neither did it enter into
my mind,1 that Catalina de Tolosa should be the founder of
the house, her good life obtained it for her from our Lord,
who so ordered matters that it became impossible to withhold
this honour from her; for, to say nothing of the purchase of
the house by her when we had not the means of doing so
ourselves, it never can be told what the shiftings of the arch
bishop cost her, for it was a very great distress to her to think
that the house might not be founded, and she was never
1 See above, § 8.
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 653
weary of doing us good. The hospital was very far from her
house, and yet she came to see us most readily nearly every
day, and sent us all we had need of; then people never ceased
from talking to her, and if she had not been the courageous
woman she is that talking might have put an end to every
thing.1
28. It was a great sorrow to me to see her suffering, for,
though she for the most part kept it secret, yet there were
times when she could not hide it, especially when they ap
pealed to her conscience, which was so tender that, even amid
the great provocations she received, I never heard a word from
her by which God might be offended.2 They used to say
to her that she was going to hell, and ask her how she could
do what she was doing when she had children of her own.
All she did was with the sanction of learned men : if she had
wished to act otherwise, I would not have consented for any
thing on earth to her doing what she might not do, if a
thousand monasteries had been lost thereby : much more, then,
would I rfot have consented for one. But, as the plan we were
discussing was kept secret, I am not surprised that people
thought the more about it. She answered every one with
so much prudence — and she is very prudent— and bore it
so gently that it was plain that God was teaching her how
to be able to please some and endure others, and giving her
courage to bear it all. How much greater is the courage of
the servants of God when they have great things to do than is
1 Dona Catalina had promised to leave her property after her
death to certain fathers who had the direction of her conscience, and
these now filled her soul with scruples in relation to what she was
doing for S. Teresa; and thus between her confessors and the Saint
her life was very wretched (note of Fra Anton, of S. Joseph, in Lett.
377; Lett. 41 vol. in. ed. Doblado).
3 God rewarded Catalina de Tolosa a hundredfold even in this
life: her five daughters became Carmelites in the monasteries of S.
Teresa. Her two boys also became religious: the eldest was Fra
Sebastian of Jesus, who took the habit in Pastrana, and was in great
repute in the order, of which he was definitor-general when he died
in Avila; the second was Fra John Chrysostom, and professed the
ology in Salamanca. Dona Catalina herself was called into Carmel,
and lived for two-and-twenty years in Palencia. She was a subject,
and also in authority in that house; and when one of her own children
became prioress she was as obedient to her own child as the most
dutiful novice (Fra. Anton., note to Lett. 374; Lett 72 vol. ii. ed.
Doblado).
654 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
that of people of high descent if they are not His servants!
She, howe\er, was without flaw in her blood, for she is the
child of a very noble house.
29. I now go back to what I was saying : when the father
provincial found us a place where we could hear mass and live
enclosed he ventured to go to Valladolid, where he had to
preach, but in great distress at not seeing in the archbishop
any sign from which to hope that he would give his permis
sion; and, though I always spoke hopefully, he could not
believe, and certainly he had grave reasons for thinking as
he did, which need not be told, and, if he had little hope, his
friends had less, and they discouraged him greatly. I was
more at ease when I saw him gone, for, as I said before, the
greatest trouble I had was his. He left instructions that we
were to find a house, in order that we might have one of our
own; and that was very difficult, for up to that time we had
not found one for sale. We were now a greater burden to our
friends, especially those of the father provincial, and all of
them agreed not to speak a word to the archbishop till we
found a house ; he always said that he wished the foundation
to be made more than any one ; and I believe it, for he is
so good a Christian that he would not say that which is not
true. In his conduct this did not appear, for he asked for
things which evidently were beyond our power to do: it
was a device of Satan to hinder the foundation. But, O
Lord, how plain it is that Thou art mighty ! the very means
which Satan sought for the purpose of hindering it Thou didst
employ to make it better. Blessed be Thou for ever!
30. From the eve of S. Mathias, when we came to the
hospital, until the eve of S. Joseph, we were busy in looking
at this house and at that; they had all of them so many dis
advantages, and not one among those which their owners
were willing to sell was such as we ought to buy. They told
me of one belonging to a nobleman which had been for sale
for some time, and though there were so many orders looking
for a house, it pleased God that none of them liked this, and
they are all astonished at it now, and some even are very
sorry. One or two people had spoken to me about it, but
they who spoke ill of it were so many that I had by this time
ceased to think of it, as if it were a house that would not suit
us.
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 655
31. One day, when the licentiate Aguiar,1 one of the
friends of our father, already mentioned, who had been mak
ing a careful search everywhere for a house, was telling me
that he had seen some, and that no house fitting for us could
be found in the whole city, and when I thought it impossible
to find any, judging by what people were saying to me, I
remembered the one which I have just spoken of as having
been given up, and thought that, though it were as bad as
it was said to be, it might be a refuge for us in our necessity,
and that we might sell it later. I said to the licentiate
Aguiar that he would do me a kindness if he would go and
look at it. He thought it not a bad plan ; he had never seen
the house, and he would go at once, though it was a stormy
and wretched day. There was a person living in it who had
no wish to see it sold and would not show it to him, but the
situation itself, and as much of the house as he could see,
pleased him greatly, and so we made up our minds to treat
for the purchase of it.
32. The nobleman to whom the house belonged was
away, but he had given to an ecclesiastic, a servant of God,
to whom His Majesty gave the desire of selling it to us, and
to treat with us with great openness, authority to sell it.
It was settled that I should go and see it. I was so extremely
pleased with it that I should have considered it cheap if they
had asked twice as much for it, as we had understood they
did ; and that is not saying much, for two years before that
sum had been offered to the owner, but he would not sell it
then. Immediately, the next day, the ecclesiastic came here,
and the licentiate also, who when he saw that the other was
satisfied wished to have the matter settled at once. I had
spoken to some of our friends, and they had told me that
if I gave what was asked I should be giving five hundred
ducats more than it was worth. I told him of this, but he
thought the house cheap even if I gave for it the sum that was
asked : I thought so also myself, and that I ought not to delay,
for it seemed as if about to be sold for nothing, but as the
money belonged to the order it gave me a scruple.
33. This meeting took place before mass on the eve of
1 He was a physician in Burgos, and a great friend of the Saint;
he told her that if the house could not be paid for by the community
at once he would pay the money himself, and keep the house should
they not be satisfied with it (Re forma, lib. v. ch. xxvi. § 2).
656 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
the glorious S. Joseph ; I told them we should meet again after
mass and settle the matter. The licentiate is a most prudent
man, and he saw clearly that, as soon as the matter began to
be bruited abroad, either we should not be the purchasers of
the house or it would cost us a much larger sum : so he made
the ecclesiastic give a promise to return after mass. We nuns
went and commended the affair to God, who said to me,
"Dost thou hold back for money?" giving me to understand
that the house was fitted for us. The sisters had prayed much
to S. Joseph that they might have a house for his feast, and,
though they did not think they could have one so soon, their
prayer was heard : all urged me to settle it, and so it was
done, for the licentiate came in with a notary, met with at
the door — which seemed a providence of our Lord — and said
to me that it was necessary to settle, and, having brought in
a witness, and shut the door of the room, that nobody might
know — for he was afraid of that — the sale was made, and
could not be set aside,1 on the eve, as I said before, of the
glorious S. Joseph, through the kind service and skilfulness
of this good friend.
34. Nobody thought it would be sold so cheaply, and
accordingly when the news began to be spread abroad pur
chasers began to come forward, and to say that the ecclesiastic
who had made the bargain had sold it at too low a price —
that the sale must be set aside, for it was a great fraud.
The good ecclesiastic had much to go through. Word was
sent at once to the owners of the house, who were, as I said
before, one of the chief nobles in the place and his wife; but
they were so glad that their house was to be a monastery that
they ratified the sale on that ground, though by that time they
could not do otherwise. Immediately, the next day, the deeds
were drawn up, and one-third of the money was paid on the
demand of the ecclesiastic, for in some things relating to
the bargain they were hard on us, and we bore everything to
keep to it.
35. It seems foolish for me to be speaking at such great
length of the purchase of this house, but the truth is that those
who looked into the matter carefully saw in it nothing less
than a miracle, whether it be the price, which was so small,
1 The house was sold to the Saint for thirteen hundred ducats, and
Dona Catalina de Tolosa paid one-third of the money at once
(Re forma, lib. v. ch. xxvi. § 2).
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 657
or the blindness of all the religious who had seen it, and which
hindered them from taking it: those who looked at the house
were amazed, as if it had not always been in Burgos, and
found fault with them and called them foolish. There were
persons there searching for a house for a monastery of nuns,
and two monasteries besides, one of which had been lately
founded — the other had come to the town from outside be
cause its house had been burnt down — and another wealthy
person intending to found a monastery, who had lately seen
it and given it up : these were all extremely sorry. The talking
in the town was such as made us see clearly the grave reasons
the licentiate had for the secrecy and the haste in which he
settled the affair, and we can truly say that, under God, he
gave us the house. A sound judgment is of great service in
everything, and, as his judgment is very sound, and as God
had given him the will, so he brought our affair to an end.
He was for more than a month helping us and arranging the
house so as to make it suit us, and at little cost. It seemed
clear that our Lord had been keeping the house for Himself,
for almost everything seemed to have been done for our use.
The truth is, as soon as I saw it, with everything therein as if
prepared for us, it seemed to me a dream — everything was
done so quickly. Our Lord repaid us well for what we had
gone through when He brought us into a paradise — for the
garden, the view, and the water seem nothing else. May He
be blessed for ever! Amen.
36. The archbishop heard of it at once, and was very
glad we had prospered so well ; he thought it was due to his
obstinacy, and he was right. I wrote to him to say I rejoiced
because he was satisfied, and that I would make haste in
arranging the house, that he might be altogether gracious
unto me. Having said this to him, I hastened into it myself,
for I was warned that they wished to detain us in the hospital
till certain deeds were completed. And so, though a man
who lived in the house had not gone out — it cost us also
something to get rid of him — we went into a room in it. I
was told immediately that the archbishop was angry thereat ;
I did all I could to soothe him, and as he is a good man,
even when he is angry, his anger passes quickly away. He was
angry also when he heard that we had a grating and a turn,
for it made him think that I wished to act as if free from his
authority: I wrote to him, and said that I had no such wish.
658 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
only that we had done what is done in the house of persons
who live in retirement — that I had not dared to put up even
a cross, lest he should think so ; and that was the truth. Not
withstanding all the goodwill he professed, we found no way
to make him willing to grant the licence.
37. He came to see the house. It pleased him much,
and he was very gracious to us, but not gracious enough to
give the licence ; however, he gave us more hope, and said that
some agreement was to be made with Catalina de Tolosa.
There were great fears that he would not sanction it, but
Doctor Manso, the other friend of the father provincial, of
whom I have spoken, was very much with him, watching
opportunities to remind him of us and to importune him;
for it pained him much to see us living as we were doing,
because in the house itself, though it had a chapel which had
never been used for anything but for mass when the former
owners lived in it, he would never allow us to have mass said,
but we must go out on festival days and Sundays to hear it
in a church, which we were very fortunate in having close by ;
though after we had gone to our house, until the foundation
was made, a month went by, more or less, all learned men
told us that there were good grounds for allowing mass to
be said.1 The archbishop is learned enough, and he saw it
in the same light, and thus there seems to be no other reason
to give than this — that it was the good pleasure of our Lord
we should suffer. I bore it best of all myself, but one of the
nuns on finding herself in the street trembled through the
pain it gave her.
38. We had not a little to suffer in drawing up the deeds,
for at one time they were satisfied with sureties, at another
they would have the money paid. Many other difficulties were
raised. In this the archbishop was not so much to blame :
it was a vicar-general who fought hard against us, and if
God had not changed his mind at the time, whereby he became
another man, it seemed as if the matter would never be
brought to an end. Oh, the distress of Catalina de Tolosa!
1 The obstinacy of the archbishop was the more galling to the
Saint because there was a chapel in the house in which mass had been
said for fourteen years while it was in the possession of the Jesuits
(Lett. 379; but Lett. 37 vol. iv. ed. Doblado). The Saint and her
sisters heard mass in the parish church of S. Luke, afterwards the
church of the Augustinian nuns (Fra Anton.'s note).
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 659
that never can be told. She bore it all with a patience that
amazed me, and was never weary in making provision for
us. All the furniture we required for fitting up the house
she gave us — beds and many things besides ; her own house
was amply provided, and, as to anything we might need, it
seemed as if we were not to be in want of anything, though
her own house might be so. Among those who were founders
of our monasteries there are some who gave more of their sub
stance, but there is not one who had the tenth part of the
trouble it cost her; and she, if she had not had children, would
have given everything she had. She longed so earnestly to
see the monastery founded that what she did for that end
seemed to her as nothing.
39. When I saw so much delaying I wrote to the bishop
of Palencia, entreating him to write again to the archbishop ;
he was very much displeased with him, for whatever the latter
did for us the bishop regarded as done to himself; and what
amazed us was, that the archbishop never thought he was
doing us the slighest wrong. I entreated the bishop to write
to him and ask him to give his consent, now that we had a
house of our own, and everything done as he had desired.
The bishop sent me a letter for him — it was open — but of
such a nature that had we sent it on we should have ruined
everything; and accordingly doctor Manso, my confessor and
adviser, would not let me send the letter, for, though it was
most courteous, it contained some truths which, considering
the temper of the archbishop, were enough to make him angry
—he was so already on account of certain messages the bishop
had sent him ; they were very great friends — and he said to
me that, as they who were enemies before were made friends
at the death of our Lord, so on my account two friends had
become enemies: I replied, that he might see by that what
sort of a person I was.
40. I had taken especial care, as I thought, to keep them
from being angry with one another; I renewed my entreaties
to the bishop, using the best reasons I could, that he would
write another and a very affectionate letter, representing to
him what a service to God it would be. He did what I asked
him to do, and it was not little : when he saw that his doing
so would be a service rendered to God and a kindness to me —
he has been always so uniformly kind to me — he did violence
to himself, and, writing to me, said that all he had hitherto
660 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
done for the order was nothing in comparison with that letter.
In a word, it answered the purpose in such a way — doctor
Manso was pressing at the same time — that the archbishop
granted the licence, and sent the good Hernando Matanza
with it, whose pleasure in bringing it was not a little. That
day the sisters were very much disheartened — they had never
been so before — and the good Catalina de Tolosa so much so
that she could not be comforted: it seemed as if our Lord
would lay His hand more heavily upon us at the moment He
was about to give us joy; and I, who had not been without
hope hitherto, had none the night before. Blessed and praised
be His name for ever, world without end ! Amen.
41. Doctor Manso had leave from the archbishop to say
mass the next day,1 and to reserve the Most Holy Sacrament.
He said the first mass, and the high mass was sung by the
father prior of S. Paul's of the order of S. Dominic, to which,
as well as to the members of the society, our order has been
always greatly indebted. The father prior sang the mass with
very solemn music played by men who came unasked. All our
friends were much pleased, and so was nearly everybody in
the city, for they were all very sorry to see us in the state
we were in, and thought so ill of the conduct of the arch
bishop tha't I was at times more distressed by what I heard
people say of him than I was at what I had to bear with
myself. The joy of the good Catalina de Tolosa and of the
sisters was so great that it kindled my devotion, and I said
unto God, "O Lord, what other aim have these Thy servants
but that of serving Thee, and dwelling within a cloister, for
Thy sake, out of which they are never to go forth?"
42. Nobody who does not know it by experience will
believe the joy we have in these monasteries when we find
ourselves within the cloister into which no secular persons
may enter; for, however much we may love them, that love
is not strong enough to take from us the great joy of
living alone. If fish be taken out of the river in a net they
cannot live, even if they be many together, unless they are re-
1 The Saint, in a letter sent to the bishop of Palencia, April 13,
1582, said that the first mass was to be said on the last day of Easter
tide, which would be April 22nd. Yepes and the chronicler say it was
said April 9th, and Ribera on the 13th. The heading of the chapter and
the letter agree in placing the blessing of the church on Low Sunday,
and the difficulty is made by the statement that the octaves of Easter
fell in 1582 on the 19th, instead of on the 22nd day of April.
CH. XXXI.] BURGOS. 661
turned to the river. So, it seems to me, is it with souls accus
tomed to live in the torrents of the waters of their Bride
groom: if they be drawn out therefrom by the nets of the
things of this world they do not really live till they are taken
back again. I always see this in the sisters. I know it by
experience: those nuns who are conscious of a wish to go
abroad among seculars, or to converse much with them, have
reason to be afraid that they have never touched that living
water of which our Lord spoke to the Samaritan woman,1 and
that the Bridegroom has hidden Himself from them, seeing
that they are not content to dwell alone with Him. I have
been afraid that this comes from two sources : either they have
not undertaken the religious state for Him alone, or they
do not understand after undertaking it what a great grace
God gave them when He chose them for Himself, and rescued
them from being subject to man, who very often kills their
body — and God grant he may not also kill their soul ! O my
Bridegroom, very God and very man ! is this a grace to be
lightly regarded? Let us praise Him, my sisters, because He
hath given it unto us; and let us never be weary of praising
our Lord and King, who is so mighty, and who has prepared
a kingdom for us, of which there shall be no end, in return for
a little hardship amid a thousand joys, but which will end to
morrow. May He be blessed for ever! Amen, amen.
43. Some time after the house was founded, it was
thought by the father provincial and myself that the endow
ment furnished by Catalina de Tolosa had certain incon
veniences which might end in a lawsuit for us, and in some
trouble for herself: we preferred trusting more in God, that
we might not be the cause of giving her the slightest annoy
ance : so, to save her, and for some other reasons, we all before
a notary renounced the property she had given us, with the
sanction of the father provincial, and sent her all the deeds.
It was done very secretly lest it should come to the knowledge
of the archbishop, who would consider it a wrong done to
himself, though it was really done to the monastery, for when
it is once known of a house that it is founded in poverty there
is nothing to be afraid of, because everybody helps it, but when
the house is known to be endowed there is evidently a risk,
and it may have to remain for a time without the means of
supplying itself with food. Provision for us after the death
1 See Life, ch. xxx. § 24; and Way of Perfection, ch. xxix. § 2.
662 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
of Catalina de Tolosa was made. Two of her daughters,
who were to make their profession this year in our monastery
of Palencia, had renounced their property in her favour should
they profess — this renunciation she made them annul, and
make another in favour of this house : another daughter, who
wished to take the habit here, gave her share in her father's
property and in her mother's, which is as much as the endow
ment was worth: the only inconvenience is that the house is
not yet in possession of it.
44. But I have always held that the nuns will never be
in want, because our Lord, who sends succour to monasteries
dependent on alms, will raise up people to do as much for
this house, or will find means to maintain it. Though no house
has been founded as this was, I have begged our Lord from
time to time, as it was His will the foundation should be made,
to come to its relief, and supply what is necessary for it; nor
did I wish to go away till I saw if any came into it as nuns.
One day, thinking of this after communion, I heard our Lord
say, "Why doubt? This is now done; thou mayest safely go"
— giving me to understand that the nuns would never be in
want of that which might be necessary for them. I felt as if
I were leaving them amply endowed, and have never been
anxious about them since. I began at once to make arrange
ments for my departure, for I seemed as if I were doing
nothing more in the house but taking my pleasure in it, for
it is a house I like exceedingly, while elsewhere, though I
might have more trouble, I might be of more use.
45. The archbishop and the bishop of Palencia remained
very good friends, for the archbishop at once showed himself
very gracious unto us, and gave the habit to a daughter1 of
Catalina de Tolosa, and to another nun2 who soon came in;
and until now people have never failed to provide for us, nor
will our Lord leave His brides to suffer if they serve Him
according to the obligations under which they lie. To this
1 Elena of Jesus, the youngest of the daughters, who were all
Carmelite nuns. The Saint calls her "my Gordilla" in a letter to the
prioress, written in Palencia August 9th (Lett. 396; Lett. 105 vol. ii. ed.
Doblado).
2 Dona Beatriz del Arceo Covarrubias, widow of Don Hernando
Venero. She made her profession May 24th, 1583, and was afterwards
mistress of novices and prioress of Vittoria (Fra Anton.: Notes to
letter quoted in the foregoing note).
CH. XXXI.j BURGOS. 663
end may His Majesty give them His grace of His great com
passion and goodness I1
JESUS.
46. I have thought it right to put down in this place how
it was that the nuns of S. Joseph's, Avila — the first monastery
that was founded — the history of which foundation is written
elsewhere,2 and not in this book, came under the jurisdiction
of the order; the house from the first being subject to the
bishop.
47. When that monastery was founded the bishop was
Don Alvaro de Mendoza, now the bishop of Palencia ; and all
the time he was in Avila he was most gracious unto the nuns.
When the monastery was placed under his jurisdiction I
understood from our Lord that it was advantageous so to
place it, and the result fully proved it ; for in all the difficulties
of the order we had great help from him, and on many other
occasions we saw it plainly enough. He never entrusted the
visitation of the monastery to a secular priest, nor did he issue
any orders except those which I begged of him to give.
Seventeen years, more or less, to the best of my recollection,3
passed by in this way, nor did I ever think of changing the
jurisdiction. At the end of the seventeen years the bishopric
of Palencia was given to the bishop of Avila. I was at the
time in the monastery of Toledo, and our Lord said tc me it
was expedient for the nuns of S. Joseph's to be under the juris
diction of the order — that I was to bring it about, for if it
were not done the house would soon become lax. As I had
1 Here ends the Book of the Foundations — then a blank leaf; after
which the passage following (De la Fuente}.
2 In the Life, see chs. xxxii. — xxxvi.
3 The Saint more than once calls attention to the fact that her
memory was not good. In this instance she is probably in error, for
the monastery of S. Joseph was founded in August, 1562, and the trans
fer of the jurisdiction from the bishop to the order was made in Aug
ust, 1577. The Saint therefore made a mistake of two years. The change
was made after the Saint had fallen into disgrace with the general of
the order, and during the severe persecution she underwent from the
friars of the mitigation, who, though they saw the Saint deprive herself
of a house of refuge — for they could not have touched her in her own
house of S. Joseph in Avila — waged war against her to the end, and
nearly destroyed the reform.
664 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS. [CH. XXXI.
understood it was right for us to be under the authority of
the bishop,1 I thought the locutions were at variance one with
another. I said so to my confessor — it was he who is now
the bishop of Osma2 — a most learned man. He replied that
it was not so in the present case, for what I did formerly must
have been necessary then, and that something else is necessary
now. It is now most clear in many ways that what he said
was true, and that he saw it would be better for the monastery
to be united with the others than to stand alone. He made me
go to Avila to arrange the matter.
48. I found the bishop was of a very different mind,
and would not at all consent to the change; but when I told
him some of the reasons I had for thinking that harm might
come to the nuns, he set himself to think them over, for he
had a great affection for the nuns, and as he has a most sound
understanding, and as God helped him, his thoughts led him
to other reasons more weighty than those I had given him,
and he resolved to make the change :3 though some of the
clergy went and told him it was not expedient, they did not
prevail. It was necessary to have the consent of the nuns:
to some the change was very disagreeable, but, as they loved
me much, they yielded to the reasons I gave them, especially
this — that when the bishop, to whom the order owed so much
and whom I loved, was gone, they could not have me any
longer among them. This consideration had great influence
with them, and so this affair, of so much importance, was
settled. Since then all persons see in what a sad state the
monastery would have been if the change had not been made.
Oh, blessed be our Lord who regards with so much solicitude
all that concerns His servants! May He be blessed for ever!
Amen.
1 See Life, ch. xxxiii. § 18.
2 Don Alonso Velasquez, afterwards archbishop of Compostella
(see ch. xxx. § 1, note).
8 The bishop consented to the transfer of the jurisdiction on the
condition that he was to continue the patron of the chancel of the
church, and that he was to be buried there wherever he might be when
he died (Reforma, lib. iv. ch. xvi. § 3).
END OF THE BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS.
LAST DAYS AND DEATH OF THE SAINT. 665
LAST DAYS AND DEATH OF THE SAINT.
IT was the intention of St. Teresa when she left Burgos
to return immediately to Avila. But in obedience to the com
mand of the Provincial, Father Gratian, she went from Bur
gos to Palencia to stay there a month. The unusual tender
ness and feeling which she showed on parting from the nuns
at Burgos indicate that she knew her death was not far off.
Even when journeying to Burgos — a journey which might
well have taxed the endurance of a strong man — she felt
the pressure of age, and realized how poorly in comparison
to her companions she was able to react physically from the
strain of travel and its attendant difficulties.
Delicate in health all through life, she had undertaken
and successfully carried through labors that would have un
done the average man. Now after twenty years her work of
the foundations was ended. She longed to return to her
beloved Avila where she was Prioress. But her great heart was
not to have the peace which it craved. Having suffered so much
she was to suffer to the end. Her last journey brought her
only sorrows ; added sufferings of body, fresh griefs of soul.
Accompanied by the faithful Anne of St. Bartholomew
she set out from Burgos July, 1582. She remained at Palencia
where she found the nuns "very good, indeed," and had a cell
"fresh and nice." Here she was encouraged by the news
of the appointment of Nicholas Doria as Procurator of the
Discalced Carmelites. "Now," writes St. Teresa, "we have
all we want except to become saints, and serve God for His
favors."
Before the end of August, still in obedience to Father
Gratian, St. Teresa journeyed to Valladolid. From this mon
astery she wrote important letters showing "full vigor of mind,
as wise, as prudent, as charitable and as zealous as ever for
the glory of God." It was from Valladolid that her last
letter — that to the Venerable Catherine of Christ — was writ
ten. Here also she was to endure a particularly hard and bitter
666 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS.
trial. Well might she write "the business and the troubles
here are killing me," for the cross was one imposed by mem
bers of her own family and for the sordid reason of money.
Don Lorenzo de Cepeda, brother of the Saint, had died and his
will was contested. St. Teresa was most unwilling to enter
into the quarrel for she thought but poorly of the motives
of all concerned. But she was compelled to testify. In open
court she was grossly insulted by a lawyer; and worst of all
her own niece, the prioress, turned against her, and drove her
from the convent. As the Saint had answered the insult of
the lawyer with patient kindness, thanking him and praying
God to reward him, so now she accepted this outrageous com
mand with the greatest meekness and before leaving wrote
to the nuns a calm and comforting farewell :
"My daughters I am greatly comforted in leaving this
house by the degree of perfection reached, by the poverty I
observed kept in it and by the love you have one to another.
"Do not fulfill your exercises by rote ; but do noble deeds
which shall grow better and better every day.
"Be diligent to have noble desires; very precious fruit
is gathered from them even when they cannot be carried out."
With her companions, Anne of St. Bartholomew and
Teresita, she journeyed to Medina del Campo, arriving there
about the middle of September. But here again a cold re
ception awaited her. The Prioress took offence at once at
some direction given by the Saint and the nuns showed no
great spirit of obedience. It was evening when the Saint ar-
rived but though greatly in want of food she could eat nothing.
That night she could not sleep and the next morning she left
without having touched food. Again she journeyed in obe
dience to her superior's command for she had received word
not to go to Avila but to Alba de Tormes. The journey
almost cost her her life. At Peneranda she fainted and
nothing but some dried figs could be found to sustain her.
The next day at another village all that could be obtained
in the way of food was some greens boiled with onions. At
length, towards the evening of September 20th, the Saint,
more dead than alive, arrived at Alba. She was in such an
exhausted condition that they took her direct to the convent
instead of to the palace of the Duchess of Alba, as had first
been intended. She was at once put to bed, and in spite of her
trials and exhaustion remarked that it was twenty years
LAST DAYS AND DEATH OF THE SAINT. 667
since she had gone to bed so early. The next morning she
arose at the usual hour, received Holy Communion, and for
some days longer, till September 29th, she attended some, at
least, of the community exercises. On the feast of St. Michael
she was forced to take to her bed, never to rise from it again.
The next day, Fra Antonio heard her confession. He begged
her to ask God to prolong her life. She answered that she was
no longer necessary to this world.
Later she gave advice to her religious filled with even
greater wisdom and unction than ever. On the eve of the
feast of St. Francis she received Holy Viaticum. AVhile she
prepared herself she clasped her hands and said to those about
her: "My daughters forgive me the unworthy example I have
given you, and do not learn from me who have been the
greatest sinner in the world."
As soon as she saw the Blessed Sacrament draw near,
she seemed to become transfigured. Before this she had not
been able to move without the help of others. But she now
raised herself and would have sprang from the bed if the nuns
had not held her. Her countenance was made beautiful by
the love of her soul within. It exacted reverence from every
one present. Age and weakness had passed. The eternal
youth of this ardent lover of Christ had already asserted itself.
Her Beloved was about to come to her — to come to her as He
had never come before, and she exclaimed : "Oh, my Lord,
now is the time, now is the hour when we shall see each
other. My tender Lord behold the hour when I come. It is
time for me to leave this place of exile ; time for my soul to
be made one with Thee; to enjoy all that it has desired."
She gratefully declared that she was a true child of the
Church ; asked pardon for her sins and repeated passages from
the Scriptures, particularly the verses of the Miserere.
At nine o'clock the night before she died, she received
Extreme Unction. The night was one of intense pain, but
with the morning came quiet and peace. Towards the evening
of Thursday, October 4, (old style), 1582, Anne of St. Bar
tholomew, who had not left the Saint's room for the last two
days, brought her fresh linen, dressed the bed anew and
changed the Saint's clothing, even to her cap and ruffles. The
Saint was able to thank her with a sweet smile. She placed
her hand in that of Anne of St. Bartholomew and there it
rested until she died. [J. J. B.]
MAXIMS OF S. TERESA.
MAXIMS OF S. TERESA.1
1. UNTILLED ground, however rich, will bring forth
thistles and thorns ; so, also, the mind of man.
2. Speak well of all that is spiritual, such as religious,
priests, and hermits.
3. Let thy words be few when in the midst of many.
4. Be modest in all thy words and works.
5. Never be obstinate, especially in things of no moment.
6. In speaking to others be always calm and cheerful.
7. Never make a jest of anything.
8. Never rebuke any one but with discretion, and humility,
and self-abasement.
9. Bend thyself to the temper of whomsoever is speaking
to thee: be merry with the mirthful, sorrowful with the sad:
in a word, make thyself all things to all, to gain all.2
10. Never say anything thou hast not well considered and
earnestly commended to our Lord, that nothing may be
spoken which shall be displeasing unto Him.
11. Never defend thyself unless there be very good
reasons for it.
12. Never mention anything concerning thyself which
men account praiseworthy, such as learning, goodness, birth,
unless with the hope of doing good thereby, and then let it
be done with humility, remembering that these are gifts of
God.
13. Never exaggerate, but utter thy mind in simplicity.
1 These maxims are regarded as the writings of S. Teresa, though
no manuscript has been discovered that contains them, and nobody
seems to have seen even a word of them in her handwriting. Their
authenticity has never been doubted, but if it had been it might have
been suggested that they were not written by the Saint, but given her
by one of her confessors of the Society of Jesus.
- I Corinth, ix. 22.
(671)
672 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS.
14. In all talking and conversation let something be
always said of spiritual things, and so shall all idle words and
evil-speaking be avoided.
15. Never assert anything without being first assured of it.
16. Never come forward to give thine own opinion about
anything unless asked to do so, or charity requires it.
17. When any one is speaking of spiritual things do thou
listen humbly and like a learner, and take to thyself the good
that is spoken.
18. Make known to thy superior and confessor all thy
temptations, imperfections, and dislikes, that he may give thee
counsel and help thee to overcome them.
19. Do not stay out of thy cell, nor go forth from it with
out cause, and when thou goest forth beg of God the grace
not to offend him.
20. Never eat or drink except at the usual times, and then
give earnest thanks to God.
21. Do all thou doest as if thou didst really see His
Majesty: a soul makes great gains thereby.
22. Never listen to, or say, evil of any one except of thy
self, and when that gives thee pleasure thou art making great
progress.
23. Whatever thou doest, offer it up to God, and pray it
may be for His honour and glory.
24. In thy mirth refrain from immoderate laughter, and
let it be humble, modest, kindly, and edifying.
25. Imagine thyself always to be the servant of all, and
look upon all as if they were Christ our Lord in person; and
so shalt thou do Him honour and reverence.
26. Be ever ready to perform the duties of obedience, as if
Jesus, in the person of the prior or superior, had laid His
commands upon thee.
27. In all thy actions, and at every hour, examine thy con
science; and, having discerned thy faults, strive, by the help
of God, to amend them, and by this way thou shalt attain to
perfection.
28. Do not think of the faults of others, but of what is
good in them and faulty in thyself.
29. Desire earnestly always to suffer for God in every
thing and on every occasion.
30. Offer thyself unto God fifty times a day, and that with
great fervour and longing after God.
MAXIMS OF S. TERESA. 673
31. Call to mind continually throughout the day the
matter of the morning meditation : be very careful herein,
for it will do thee much good.
32. Lay up carefully what our Lord may say to thee, and
act upon the desires He may have filled thee with in prayer.
33. Always avoid singularity to the utmost of thy power,
for it does great harm in a community.
34. Read often the rules and constitutions of the order,
and observe them in sincerity.
35. In all created things discern the providence and wis
dom of God, and in all things give Him thanks.
36. Withhold thy heart from all things: seek God, and
thou shalt find Him.
37. Do not show signs of devotion outwardly when thou
hast none within, but thou mayest lawfully hide the want
thereof.
38. Let not thine inward devotion be visible unless in
great necessity : S. Francis and S. Bernard used to say, "My
secret is mine."1
39. Never complain of the food, whether it be well or ill
dressed ; remembering the gall and vinegar of Jesus Christ.
40. Speak to no one at table, and lift not thine eyes to
another.
41. Think of the table of heaven, and of the food thereon
— God Himself : think of the guests, the angels : lift up thine
eyes to that table, longing for it.
42. In the presence of thy superior — thou art to see Jesus
Christ in him — utter not a word that is not necessary, and
that with great reverence.
43. Never do anything that thou canst not do in the pres
ence of all.
44. Do not compare one person with another : it is a hate
ful thing to do.
45. When rebuked for anything receive the rebuke with
inward and outward humility, and pray to God for the person
who gives the rebuke.
46. When one superior bids thee do a certain thing, do not
say that another superior has given a contrary order; but obey
in what thou art commanded, and consider that the intentions
of" all are good.
1 Is. xxiv. 16.
674 BOOK OF THE FOUNDATIONS.
47. Be not curious about matters that do not concern thee ;
never speak of them, and do not ask about them.
48. Keep in mind thy past life and present lukewarmness,
to bewail them, and what is still wanting to thee for thy
going into heaven, that thou mayest live in fear, which is a
source of great blessings.
49. What those in the house bid thee do do always, unless
it be against obedience ; and answer them humbly and gently.
50. Ask for nothing particular in the way of food or rai
ment, unless there be great need.
51. Never cease to humble and mortify thyself in all
things, even unto death.
52. Habitually make many acts of love, for they set the
soul on fire and make it gentle.
53. Make acts of all the other virtues.
54. Offer every thing to the Father Everlasting, in union
with the merits of His Son Jesus Christ.
55. Be kind to all and severe to thyself.
56. On the days kept in honour of the saints consider
their virtues, and beg the like of God.
57. Be very exact every night in thy examination of con
science.
58. The morning of communion remember in thy prayer
that thou art about to receive God, notwithstanding thy
wretchedness; and in thy prayer at night that thou hast
received Him.
59. Never when in authority rebuke any one in anger,
but only when anger has passed away ; and so shall the rebuke
bring forth good fruit.
60. Strive earnestly after perfection and devotion, and by
the help thereof thou shalt do all things.
61. Exercise thyself much in the fear of our Lord, for that
will make the soul contrite and humble.
62. Consider seriously how quickly people change, and
how little trust is to be had in them ; and cleave fast unto God,
who changeth not.
63. As to the affairs of thy soul, labour to have a con
fessor who is spiritual and learned, make them known unto
him, and abide by his judgment throughout.
64. Each time of communion beg some gift of God, by
the compassion wherewith He has entered thy poor soul.
65. Though thou hast recourse to many saints as thine
MAXIMS OF S. TERESA. 675
intercessors, go specially to S. Joseph, for he has great power
with God.
66. In time of sorrow and of trouble cease not from the
good works of prayer and penance which thou art in the habit
of doing, for Satan is striving to make thee uneasy, and then to
abandon them; on the contrary, do thou apply thyself there
unto more earnestly than before, and thou shalt see quickly
our Lord will come to thy succour.
67. Never make thy temptations and imperfections known
to those in the community whose progress is the least, for that
will hurt thyself and the others, but only to those most ad
vanced in perfection.
68. Remember that thou hast but one soul ; that thou canst
die but once; that thou hast but one life, which is short, and
peculiar to thyself ; that there is but one blessedness, and that
for ever; and thou wilt despise many things.
69. Let thy desire be the vision of God, thy fear the loss
of Him, thy sorrow His absence, and thy joy in that which
may take thee to Him ; and thy life shall be in great peace.
APPENDIX.
APPENDIX.
NOTE 1.
The Avila portrait has the qualities of a decorative painting; it
lacks the modelling and softness of outline which characterize easel
painting in Spanish art. The Saint's attitude has no animation.
It suggests the portrait of a corpse.
The Seville portrait is reproduced from a copy made by M.
Hye Hoys from the original. It has none of the characteristics
described by de Ribera, so striking in the Avila portrait. The face
is relatively small; Saint Teresa is at prayer, her eyes raised to
heaven. The artist seems to have tried to improve upon the work
of Juan de la Miseria. The photograph, published in Paris, was
taken from the copy made by Becquer for the Duchess de Mont-
pensier.
The Saragossa portrait is engraved from a photograph ordered
by M. Hye Hoys. The original is painted on wood.
The portraits engraved at Antwerp belong to the type of which
de Ribera said: "From this portrait (that painted by Juan de la
Miseria) have been taken all of any merit which we possess to-day."
(Vie de Ste. Therese, de Ribera. Bouix trans, pp. 351 et seq.)
The Frascati portrait reproduces the Avila type, but inexactly.
The copyist has somewhat changed the features of the original.
NOTE 2.
Avila, the chief town of the bleak and hilly district of Avila,
is built upon a granite promontory. It is surrounded by a belt of
crenallated walls, flanked by eighty-eight towers provided with machi
colations and barbicans. These walls date from the end of the
XI. century. (Historia de Avila, su Provinca y Obispado por D.
Juan Martin Carramolino, Madrid, liberia espanola 1872. Vol I.
page 434.) To see Avila from the view point of her most illus
trious child, Saint Teresa of Jesus, we leave it by the Adaja gate;
cross the bridge and climb the stony hillside overlooking the road
to Salamanca. There amid great granite blocks without vegetation,
by the aid of a map, one may follow the footsteps of the Saint from
her birth until she went forth to establish the Reformed convents
in other parts of Spain.
(679)
680
APPENDIX.
The headland on which the town is built rises on the other side
of the river as above an amphitheatre between a rocky plain to the
north, and wide prairies to the south, while on the horizon are seen
the jagged peaks of the wild Sierra Guadarama, covered with snow
the greater part of the year. From this height Avila looks majestic
crowned by the irregular mass of the Cathedral with its triple row of
Moorish crenelles (Ibid. pp. 441 to 444), and the vast bulk of the
once royal Alcazar; lower down from amid the common dwellings,
the old palaces of the Cepedas, the Valedas, the Onates and tlie
Davilas stand out.
The suburbs are remarkable for sanctuaries dedicated to the
early apostles and martyrs, Saint Vincent, Saint Second, etc., and for
numerous convents mostly abandoned to-day but formerly homes of
holiness and wisdom. With good reason Avila was known as the
Avila of saints and nobles.
The princes of this province chose Avila for their court not only
because it offered a strong strategic position, but because of their
confidence in the loyalty of its nobility (Ibid. vol. i. pp. 451-454).
The monument of the "Four Columns" stands a quarter of a mile
from the town on the road to Salamanca and dates from the XII.
century. It was erected to serve as a shelter for pilgrims who desired
to rest on their way to the oratory of Saint Leonard. (Historic! de
Avila, por Carramolino, vol. ii. p. 318.) Here Saint Teresa and her
brother Rodrigo, on their way to martyrdom among the Moors, were
met by their uncle, Francisco Alvarez de Cepeda, who took them
back to their sorrowing parents (Vie de Ste. Therese, de Ribera, Bouix,
trans, p. 10 and Re forma, de los Descalqos, vol. i. p. 21).
The inscription on the memorial tablet in the wall of St. Teresa's
apartment is as follows: "This oratory dedicated to the Mother of
God was formerly the most happy apartment where was born and
brought up the seraphic and illustrious virgin Saint Teresa, who
was chosen by Jesus Himself as His beloved spouse and who became
the august foundress and mistress of the Reformed Carmelites."
NOTE 3.
This baptismal font, in the form of a goblet, is hollowed from a
granite monolith. It stands upon a pedestal carved with the shield
of the Reformed Carmelites. On the wall is a rough painting shown
in No. 3 of this Plate. The inscription reads: "Teresa, born March
28, was regenerated in the holy water of baptism on the eve of the
nones of April, 1515."
These houses in the Plazuela de los Cepedas were formerly
occupied by members of St. Teresa's family; the quarterings of Cepeda
and of Davila can be seen in the shields on the fagades, or carved on
the pillars of the patio.
The paternal mansion of Saint Teresa no longer exists; it stood
opposite the Don Antonio Vela Gate, now known as the Saint's
APPENDIX. 681
Gate. (Historia de Avila, por Carramolino, vol. i. p. 448.) The room,
however, has been preserved in which Teresa first saw the light of
day, and also the part of the garden in which she and her brother
Rodrigo vainly tried to build hermitages (G^uvres de Ste. Therese,
Bouix trans, vol. i. p. 14.)
A hospital adjoins the church of Mosen Rubi de Bracamonte;
both bear the name of their Foundress. In this church Saint Teresa
had an interview with Saint Peter of Alcantara (CEnvres de Ste.
Therese, Bouix trans, vol. i. p. 365).
The portraits of Juan de Ovalle, of Juana de Ahumada and of
their son Gonsalo are engraved upon their monument in the church
of the Carmelites at Alba. The inscription on the tomb of lago
Misia y Cepeda at Avila reads: "Here lies Don lago Misia y Cepeda,
Chevalier of the order of Saint lago, died April 8, 1627, and of Dona
Maria Ovalle y Valdebieso, his wife, died October 9, 1630."
NOTE 4.
In memory of Saint Teresa the statue of Our Lady of Charity
was formerly carried every year, on the eve of the Saint's feast day,
from the oratory near the Adaja bridge to the Cathedral. Next
morning it was carried by the chapter in procession to the convent
of Discalced Carmelites; in the evening it was returned to the chapel
by the Confraternity of Saint Teresa.
The Augustinian convent was built in 1509; the church occupies
the site of an ancient mosque. Saint Thomas of Villanova, later
Archbishop of Valencia, was Rector of this convent. (Reforma de los
Descalcos, vol. i. p. 26 and Historia de Avila, Carramolino, vol. i. pp.
537 et scq.}
Maria de Brizeno was born in 1498. She was daughter of Don
Gonsalvo Brizeno and of Dona Brigitta Contreras; illustrious names
in the aristocracy of Avila. She entered religion in 1514 and died
in 1592.
A miraculous event is recorded in connection with this sister
shortly before the arrival at school of the child who was to immortalize
the name of Ahumada. While the community were gathered together
for prayer a light appeared in the form of a star; after having floated
around the choir it paused above Maria Brizeno and disappeared into
her breast. When Alfonso de Cepeda brought his daughter to the
convent the Superior gave her into the care of this religious, who
was the Directress of Pupils. (Reforma de los Descalcos, vol. i. pp. 26
et seq.} This memorable incident is perpetuated in an allegorical
painting in the Church of the Augustinians; below is written in
Spanish, "This picture represents Saint Teresa at the period of her
school life in the convent of Grace; and her venerable teacher,
Dona Maria Brizeno, a religious of the most exemplary virtue."
Above are two angels, one of whom says, "Teresa, thou shalt learn
in the house of Saint Augustine to know thy vocation." The other,
682
APPENDIX.
who holds the Rule of the Reformed Carmelites, says, "Teresa, go
thou and found convents." Almost opposite this painting, beside the
choir grille, stands the confessional which was in use in the time of
our Saint; it is called for this reason, the Confessional of Saint
Teresa.
The monastery of the Mitigated Carmelites was founded in 1378.
The tombs of the Henao, Nunez and Davila families, akin to Saint
Teresa, were formerly to be seen here. The Saint in her "Life"
eulogizes a religious of this convent, Fr. lago Matthias, (ch xxxviii
§ 40).
The property of La Serna was bought by Lorenzo de Cepeda on
his return from Peru. He died there in 1580, (Reforma de los Descales,
vol. i. pp. 12 et seq.). At the end of the last century the place was
turned into a factory which existed until the sacking of Avila
by the French in the War of Independence. Now it forms part
of the Verdugos estate.
The shield of Lorenzo de Cepeda is carved -and painted upon
his tomb in the chapel in the Discalced Carmelite church at Avila.
NOTE 5.
A "Noria" is an instrument used in Spain in the irrigation of
gardens. St. Teresa mentions it in her "Life" in speaking of the
mystical watering of the soul (ch. xi. § 11).
The doorway of the outer court of the monastery of the Incarna
tion (with the exception of a brick restoration above) as also the
crenallated granite walls, date to all appearance from the
period of the foundation; therefore they must have witnessed the
entrance of the Saint.
Above the entrance to the church are carved three coats of arms;
in the middle, in white marble, is that of the Mitigated Carmelites,
those on either side belong probably to the founders. A little
higher up is an Annunciation, roughly sculptured in white marble,
probably of the XVII. century. The door is studded with large nails
with decorated heads, a 'style of ornamentation very common in
ancient Spain.
The statue of Our Lady of Pity is of Oriental type, the face being
surrounded by a sort of ruff of green velvet, embroidered in gold.
It stands above a huge retable which is ornamented with twisted
columns and sculptures in burnished gilt; this retable surmounts the
altar at the back of the upper choir. The Bollandists in their Ada
S. Teresia give a rather imperfect sketch of it.
The vision of Our Lord carrying His cross is commemorated
in a painting hung above the staircase.
The painting of Our Lord fastened to the column, without ques
tion the most interesting in the monastery, was executed in 1569,
as is proved by the scroll in the lower corner, and restored in 1715.
It occupies the middle of the wall, on the left of the entrance door.
APPENDIX. 683
The inscription on it from the Psalms is, "I have been afflicted all
the day long."
The door of the cell of Transverberation is considered a relic.
It gives access to-day to a little oratory reserved for novices.
The monument made of the pine wood of the cell is pyramidal
in form. Its natural colour has been preserved. It supports statues
of Saint Teresa kneeling and of Saint John of the Cross.
The inscription on the tomb of Francesco del Aguila reads:
"Here lies the magnificent lady Dona Francesco del Aguila, who
was Prioress of this monastery, and died the last day of September
in the year of grace MDXLVI." This slab is in the lower choir;
it is encased in the flooring which was laid at a later period. The
drawing of the vision of St. John of the Cross is enclosed in a
reliquary which also contains one of his bones. The Latin inscrip
tion is: "John, what desirest thou in return for thy labours?" "Lord,
to suffer and to be despised for Thee." The translation of the Spanish
motto about the crucifix is "This is drawn by Fr. John of the Cross."
An account of the vision which this drawing commemorates can be
found in the Vie de Saint Jean de la Croix, by Fr. Dosithee de St.
Alexis, Paris, 1872, vol. ii. p. 261, or in the Life of the Saint by Ernest
Razy, Tournai, 1861, p. 178.
The habit of the Mitigated Carmelites differs a little from that of
the Reformed. Artists usually sin against historic accuracy in giving
to Saint Teresa in the scenes of her life before the Reformation
the habit of the Discalced Carmelites, when she should wear that of
the Mitigated Rule. The cloak is shorter and a portion of the veil
falls over the forehead.
NOTE 6.
The armchair in St. Thomas' church associated with Saint Peter
of Alcantara and Saint Teresa is hung from the roof by chains at
the end of the western nave. On the back of the seat are carved in
low relief two fawns with a vase of lilies between them; this decora
tion would seem to place the chair in the Byzantine epoch.
This Dominican monastery was built in 1482 to 1493 by the
Catholic kings at the suggestion of the famous Torquemada, first
Inquisitor General for the Kingdom (Historia de Avila, Carramolino,
vol. i. p. 512). The older portions of the monastery and church
are beautiful specimens of Castillian Gothic.
In the monastery of the Incarnation above the window where
the nuns received communion was a picture commemorating a miracle
with which Saint Teresa was favoured at Salamanca in 1571, but
the artist was mistaken in representing Our Lord Himself as giving
the Host to His well-beloved. The inscription below reads: "Our
holy Mother communicated in this place on Palm Sunday, and her
mouth was filled with blood which also covered her face. Our Lord
said to her, 'My daughter, I desire that My blood shall profit thee.
684 APPENDIX.
Do not fear that My mercies shall ever fail thee.' " (CEuvres de Sle.
Thercse, Bouix, vol. i. p. 586; and Escritos de Sta. Teresa, de la Fuente,
vol. i. pp. 154, note, 156.)
The monastery of Maria of Jesus was founded at Alcala de
Henares, July 23, 1563, eleven months after Saint Teresa's first
foundation; Dona Eleonora de Mascarenas, former governess of
Philip II., gave for this purpose a house and a church belonging to her,
The church contained a very beautiful statue of the Blessed Virgin
which caused these Discalced Carmelites to be called "Of the Image"
((Euvres de Ste. Therese, Bouix, vol. i. p. 467, note, and Reforma de
los Descalgos, vol. i. p. 208).
NOTE 7.
In the year 1560 some of Saint Teresa's relatives, among them her
niece Maria de Ocampo, then in the flower of her youth and filled
with the pride of life, were gathered together in her cell. They talked
of the advantages of a stay at the Incarnation, and jokingly pro
nounced retirement in so large and cheerful a community far from
disagreeable. Suddenly Dona Maria de Ocampo broke into the
conversation by saying very seriously, "Let us all go together and
lead a more secluded life, as the hermits did." This suggestion, so
surprising, coming from a young girl absorbed in the pleasures of the
moment, was well received by all the company. Going from one
idea to another they planned a little monastery for a limited number
of nuns. Such a providential and unexpected conversation corre
sponded to Teresa's most secret thoughts and intimate longings, for
she was already athirst for penance, and her soul pined for solitude.
The outcome of this suggestion was St. Joseph's, Avila.
The ancient chapel may be seen to the left of the present chapel,
within the iron grille. It is a small building, rectangular in form, and
has been altered in keeping with the new church. Adjoining the,
original chapel, dedicated to-day to St. Paul, stood at the beginning
of the XVI. century a church remarkable for its beauty. A statue
of St. Joseph in white marble surmounted the entrance. In his left
hand the Saint held the blossoming staff, and with the right led the
Infant Jesus, who carried a saw. The great Reformer of the Car
melites always had the holy Patriarch represented thus. This par
ticular is worthy of note by those interested in religious iconography,
for Saint Teresa received direct from Heaven the mission of propa
gating the cult of Saint Joseph in the western world.
In 1564, Gian Battisto Rossi, a native of Ravenna, was chosen
as General of the Carmelites. His name was latinized into Rubeo
according to the custom of the times (Escritos de Sta. Teresa, de la
Fuente, vol. i. p. 182, note, and Reforma de los Descal$os, vol. i. pp.
209 and 213).
The hermitages in the garden of St. Joseph were the scenes of
M>me of the Saint's most noted visions. The vision commemorated by
APPENDIX. 685
the painting in the hermitage of Christ bound to the column took
place, however, in the parlour of the monastery of the Incarnation.
Our Lord appeared there to Saint Teresa while she was engaged in
conversation and showed her His arm covered with wounds received
during the flagellation. In the hermitage of Nazareth, the Saint
had the vision of the Holy Ghost described in chapter xxxviii. of the
"Life"; here also she received the four commands for the Religious
of her Order. The Spanish inscription on the wall reads: "Our sainted
Mother, Teresa of Jesus, while at prayer in this hermitage of Nazareth,
the eve of Pentecost, 1579, received from Our Lord the order to give
her children from Him the four following recommendations:
1. "That there shall be conformity of opinion among Superiors.
2. "That no matter how numerous the houses, there shall always
be but a small number of Religious in each.
3. "That they shall have but slight communication with seculars
except for the good of their souls.
4. "That they shall teach more by their deeds than their words.
"If these injunctions are faithfully observed the Order will always
increase; if they fail in them they shall lose their primitive zeal.
Teresa de Jesus." (See Relation, x.)
This hermitage also contains a painting of the Holy House of
Nazareth which was placed over the altar by her.
Lorenzo de Cepeda, after passing thirty-four years in Peru,
returned in 1575 to settle in Spain with his children. In his will
he left a legacy of money to the Carmelites of Saint Joseph at Avila,
with the clause that they should erect a chapel in their church in
honour of his patron saint, in which he should be buried (Lettres de
Ste. Therese, Bouix, vol. iii. p. 207). His epitaph reads: "Lorenzo de
Cepeda, died June 26, 1580. He is the founder of this chapel; the
brother of the Holy Foundress of this convent, and of all the Discalced
Carmelites."
Caspar Daza reposes here also in his chapel but his grave is
unmarked. The epitaphs of his mother and sister are as follows:
"Here reposes Dona Francisca Daza, mother of the founder of this
chapel; she died March 24, 1571. And also her daughter Caterina
Daza; she died September 20, 1581."
The first Barefoot Carmelites asked the Saint's permission to
wear undershirts of serge which should be as penetential as haircloth;
but this serge was found to harbour vermin. To obtain deliverance
from this annoyance the Religious went in procession, carrying a
crucifix shown in Plate vi., and singing hymns composed for the
purpose. Since then they have never had any trouble from this
cause (Escritos de Sta. Teresa, de la Fuente, vol. i. p. 516). The Latin
inscription on the crucifix is: "At the name of Jesus every knee
should bow, of things in heaven, and things on earth, and things under
the earth."
686 APPENDIX.
NOTE 8.
The portrait of Fr. Baltasar Alvarez was copied in 1862 from an
ancient painting in the Jesuit College at Salamanca, representing St.
Teresa conferring with him.
Fr. Baltasar Alvarez, had become Rector of the Jesuit College
at Medina del Campo, and assisted Saint Teresa in this her second
foundation. He obtained the consent of the municipal authorities
and of the ecclesiastical vicar, for Medina belonged to no diocese.
In Spain various towns formerly enjoyed the privilege of exemption;
these cities and their districts were governed by a Vicar, appointed
sometimes by the military authorities, sometimes by the people.
Medina by means of her celebrated fairs had created for herself
a remarkable position; she was free from all taxation, and the inhabi
tants had the right of nomination to all offices, whether political or
ecclesiastical. Hence the origin of the device inscribed upon the
orle about her shield, "Ni el Papa beneficio, ni el Rey oficio." (Les
Dclices de L'Espagne et du Portugal, par Don Juan Alvarez, de Col-
menar. Leyden, 1707, vol. i., p. 168.)
The Jesuit College was founded in 1551 by Rodrigo de Duenas;
the church is now parochial and under the patronage of St. lago.
The monastery of St. Anne, of the Mitigated Rule, is now rented
out in tenements. The church, a large and solid building, is still
standing but emptied of everything transportable.
The corner of the Discalced monastery on the Calle St. lago
formed the hotel de Quiroga. In the ancient monastery, which is
entered by the second door, there are some very old mural paintings
which have been retouched; they recall those attributed to Fra. Juan
de la Miseria in other houses of the Order.
The tower to the left of the monastery belonged to the hotel
of the Duena family, well known in Flanders. Stephen de Duena
married Isabella Hoys at Ostend in 1680 and became burgomaster of
that town. (Archives of the city of Ostend.)
The first page of St. Teresa's breviary contains a prayer invoking
the intercession of St. Joseph, and several annotations concerning
indulgences, written by the hand of Fr. Rubeo. The Carmelites of
Lisbon possess another breviary of St. Teresa's of the same edition
as that at Medina; she used this one during her last years, according
to a note by Fr. Jerome Gratian. These two breviaries each contain
notes in St. Teresa's handwriting.
The needlework attributed to St. Teresa and preserved at Medina,
Toledo, Seville, and Genoa testifies to her dexterity. A proof that
she appreciated artistic handiwork is found in one of her letters to
Maria de St. Joseph; "Your presents are truly charming. The Prioress
of Segovia, (Isabel of St. Dominic) has sent me a chalice cover; it is
worked entirely in chain stitch, and embossed with seed pearls and
small garnets. The labour alone is valued at thirty ducats." (Lettres
de Ste. Thercse, Bouix, vol. ii. p. 268.)
The chalice veil is very similar to that preserved in the convent
of St. Anne at Genoa. They both belong to the order of needlework
known as netting.
APPENDIX. 687
The tomb of Agnes of Jesus is built into the wall, below an arched
embrasure with an ancient mural painting. In the centre St. Teresa
is handing the primitive Rule and the Constitution to the kneeling
Prioress. The scroll proceeding from the Saint's mouth reads, "Semper
vigila, in omnibus labora, ministerium imple." Tim. c. iv., v. 5. On
the sides of the arch are four subjects from the life of Agnes of Jesus.
The inscription on the tomb reads, "Here lies buried the body of our
venerable Mother, Agnes of Jesus, first Prioress of this house, and
cousin german to our sainted Mother Teresa of Jesus. She died
April 20, 1601."
NOTE 9.
When the first house given by Dona Luisa de la Cerda proved
unsuitable, and St. Teresa was looking for another site for the
monastery, she turned from one saying it was reserved for the Fran
ciscans. Several years later the Alcantarist Franciscans built a
monastery there. Going in the other direction, to the southward,
she passed through an olive orchard and saw in one of the trees a
dove of singular whiteness; she immediately designated the grove as
the place to build. Her royal friend gave her full permission to build
and furnish as she liked; authorizing her to make all contracts with
the architects. This is proved by the original design for the building,
preserved with the titles of the foundation in a thrice-locked chest.
These papers, which bear the signatures of Saint Teresa, are accom
panied by more legible copies.
The Saint returned to Malagon November 24, 1579, (Escritos de
Sta. Teresa, de la Fuente, vol. i. p. 14), intending to transfer her nuns
to their new home, but the workmen declared that there was still
six months of work to be done before it would be habitable. Teresa
was exhausted with the fatigues of the journeys; the roads had been
very bad, she had passed sleepless nights, and was suffering from
severe pains throughout her body. In spite of these drawbacks she
rose the next day very early, went to look at the house, and told
the workmen that they must have the building finished by the eve
of the Immaculate Conception. Astonished, they cried with one
voice that the thing was impossible. But Teresa had her way; she
directed the work, encouraging and assisting; she gave the example
of being first on the scene in the morning, a broom in one hand and
her rush work-basket (or cabas) in the other. (Vie de Ste. Therese,
Bouix, pp. 160 et seq.) The nuns of this monastery have steadily
refused any alteration which might improve its comfort, lest they
should change the arrangements made by their revered Mother, nor
will they replace the floors and furniture, which are as she left them.
The market-place formerly stood between the castle and the
parish church, but the village has shifted its position, and the former
site of the monastery is now a ploughed field. A large enclosure
contained the church, the monastery, the barns for the harvest from
688 APPENDIX.
the olive orchards and wheat fields belonging to the monastery, the
bakery and the oil-presses; also a good-sized hospital which was
used to lodge the chaplain and the workmen employed by the Car
melites, also the Friars of the Order, who frequently passed through
Malagon on their way from Toledo to Andalusia.
This is a small brick monument, the interior adorned with a
painting of St. Teresa. Indulgences are granted to whoever recites
a Pater and an Ave before the image of the Saint or merely salutes
her in passing.
On the blade of this knife used for cutting the Hosts are these
words: "I belong to St. Teresa of Jesus." The hosts cut by this
knife are very large, as the Saint preferred that they should be.
Their diameter is nearly two inches.
St. Teresa's cell at Malagon has been made into an oratory, but
here, in contrast to the other monasteries, care has been taken to
preserve the door, the window, the shutters, and in fact everything
which existed in the Mother's time. Repairs have been made with
a view to preserving the original character of the room. The walls,
which still retain traces of bloodstains, witnesses to the Saint's discip
lining of herself, are hung with red damask. An altar, richly adorned
with carving and gilding, was placed here in the middle of the last
century, the gift of the Duchess of Veragua. Above the reredos
is a fine statue of the Seraphic Mother, seated in an armchair belong
ing to Luisa de la Cerda, according to tradition. The Saint is rep
resented writing at a very low desk, raised on supports in order
to bring it to the height of her elbow. The statue's face is turned
toward the door, as though she were surprised by the entrance of a
visitor. The key of the cell and those of the outer door of the monas
tery have been hung from her belt; they date from the time of the
foundation and are now too old for use.
Anne of St. Augustine was born at Valladolid, December 11, 1547.
Her pious parents, Juan de Perduja Rebolledo and Madelina Perez
de Arguello, soon realized that God had given a little angel into
their keeping. When only four she talked with the Infant Jesus,
and the Saints, and found all her pleasure in arranging altars for them.
At six she was wrapt in contemplation of the highest order, and at
ten made a vow of perpetual virginity. At seventeen she was placed
as maid of honour with Dona Luisa de Padilla, the oldest daughter of
the Adelantado of Castille. In this model palace Anne found all the
fervour of the days of the primitive Church, and all the sanctity of
the cloister. Finally, in 1547, the doors of Mount Carmel opened for
this lover of the Lord. Free to enter the monasteries of Medina del
Campo, Valladolid or Malagon, she chose the last because she should
there be at the greatest distance from her kindred and all she held
dear. (CEuvres de Ste. Therese, Bouix, vol. ii. pp. 122-5 and Reforma
de los Descalqos, vol. iv. pp. 404-411.)
The reliquary containing the finger of Anne of St. Augustine is
in a little chest in which Saint Teresa used to carry a small statue of
St. Joseph from one convent to another. This statue was called
in the order San Jose del Patrocinio. At the time of the pro-
APPENDIX. 689
scription of the Religious Orders it was at the monastery of St.
Hermenegild, Discalced Carmelites, at Madrid; since then it has
disappeared.
The venerated Anne of St. Augustine founded the monastery of
Villanueva de la Jara.
NOTE 10.
Several autograph letters of St. Teresa are preserved in the
monastery at Valladolid. They were closed by means of rectangular
seals of wax. The impressions are three in number; two with the
monogram of Christ, the third a death's head. (Lettres de Ste. Therese,
Bouix, vol. ii. p. 175.) These impressions have been carefully measured
and are reproduced here in their original size. De la Fuente mentions
four different seals used by the Saint, in the collection at Valladolid,
two with the monogram of Jesus, slightly differing, and two distinct
death's heads. (Escritos de Sta. Teresa, de la Fuente, vol. i. p. xv.)
Mr. Hye Hoys thinks that these trifling variations must have escaped
his eye.
The cross of St. Teresa's rosary was formed of four oblong
beads, dark in colour, and about 2l/2 inches long by 2 inches wide.
It was formerly preserved in the Carmelite monastery at Valladolid,
in a silver reliquary, pyramidal in form. Later, it was given to the
Discalced Carmelites of the same city, who kept it until the Civil
War of 1836. It then disappeared, with many other precious objects,
in the pillage which followed an encounter between the Christinas and
the Carlists. These details were given to Mr. Hye Hoys by Fr.
Antonio Gomez, a Discalced Friar who lived for a long time in the
convent at Valladolid (See Life, ch. xxix. § 8).
St. Teresa wrote her Way of Perfection twice over. The first
version was made during the years 1563 to 1567, that is during the
five years immediately following the foundation of St. Joseph at
Avila. She had founded several other monasteries in the interval
before she resumed her pen, as is indicated by the words at the
head of the second manuscript: "This book treats of the advice
given by Teresa of Jesus to the nuns of the monasteries which she
has founded." The earlier autograph is preserved at the Escurial,
the second is with the Carmelites at Valladolid (CEuvres de Ste. Therese,
Bouix, vol. Hi. p. 1, and Bollandists Acta Sta. Teresia, p. 344).
In 1577 Don Alvaro de Mendoza was transferred from the see
of Avila to that of Palencia, and began at once to endeavour to in
troduce the Reformed Rule into his new diocese. He had tbe satis
faction of receiving the Discalced Nuns at Palencia in 1580; on
May 4 of the following year the Discalced Carmelites established
themselves provisionally near Valladolid (Valladolid at that time
formed part of the diocese of Palencia) and in January, 1583, they were
installed in a country house about a mile from the city. (Refornta de
los Descalqos, vol. i. pp. 767 et seq.}.
690 APPENDIX.
NOTE 11.
Antonio of Jesus belonged to the house of Heredia, one of the
most pious of the province of Biscay; his mother who came from
Valencia was of the des Ferrer family which gave to the Order of St.
Dominic, and the Church, a great apostle and saint. He entered the
Carmelite Order very young, was valued for his wisdom and virtue,
and received important charges. He was fifty-eight years old when,
with admirable fervour in a man of his age, he joined the standard
of the Reformed Rule, just introduced by St. Teresa. He was of
immense service to the Reform, and died April 22, 1601, in his
ninety-second year (Reforma de los Descales, vol. iii. pp. 329-341, and
(Euzres de Ste. Therese, Bouix, vol. ii. pp. 189-191).
This church was destroyed during the Civil War of 1836. Nothing
now remains but the foundations.
The garden at Mancera is separated from the monastery by the
road. The Fathers after a certain time, realizing the poverty of the
village and its neighbourhood, and desiring to found a monastery
of the Order in the Reformer's native city, induced the General of
the Discalced to decree the transfer of the monastery to Avila.
At the time of the suppression of the Religious Orders in 1836,
the ancient monastery of Discalced Carmelites at Mancera was
occupied by the Minims of St. Francis de Paul, and the Vic-
torianos. The beauty of the building facing on the road, with its coats
of arms, leads one to suppose that it was once part of the mansion
of Don Luis de Toledo, lord of the village. In 1600 the monastery
was moved to Avila. Finally, after three successive moves in the
city, the Discalced Monks settled themselves upon the site of the
paternal mansion of Saint Teresa. (Reforma de los Descalqos, vol. iii.
289-292.) This dwelling which deserved the veneration of the cen
turies had fallen into the most deplorable condition; it had served as
a barracks, as a theatre, and as a stable for bulls for the ring (Reforma
de los Descalqos, vol. v. p. 372). Thanks to the active interest of
Don Francisco Marques Gazetta, Bishop of Avila, the Order ulti
mately succeeded in buying it. The Father General laid the corner
stone of the church October 15, 1629; the 19th of March following,
Feast of Saint Joseph, was chosen to begin the building of the
monastery. The whole was completed in 1636 (Ibid, vol. v. pp.
504-509).
There is a statue of St. Teresa in white marble above the main
door of the church. The arms beside it are those of the patron of
the monastery, the Duke of Olivarez; those on the right are of the
Reformed Carmelites, on the left of the Reformer herself. The
church consists of a large nave and of a transept with a dome. There
are four side chapels. Also the oratory of Our Lady of Mount
Carmel and that dedicated to St. Teresa, which adjoins the right
transept and is built upon the site of the room where the Saint was
born.
The painting of Our Lady of Solitude is now in St. Teresa's
Oratory above the door of a little sacristy, where are kept various
APPENDIX. 691
objects once belonging to the Saint, among them the sandal sole
illustrated in Figure 2.
Her crucifix is placed in a small glass chest now on the altar
in this Oratory. Several Bishops of Avila have accorded indulgences
to the faithful who recite a Pater or a Credo before this crucifix.
NOTE 12.
The sketches of the hermitages near Cordova were made in 1845,
while they were still inhabited; they may give an idea of the one
at Tardon, also situated in the Sierra Morena, and occupied by
Ambrosio Mariano and his companion before they entered the Car
melite Order (CEuvres de Ste. Thercse, Bouix, vol. ii. p. 215).
Juana de Ahumada, St. Teresa's sister, gave birth in 1560 to a
daughter who was christened Beatrix. She was naturally proud and
vain, but thanks to the pious care with which she was instructed,
the spirit of religion grew in her and rooted itself deeply in her
heart. Yet she felt a distaste for the religious life amounting to aver
sion. Teresa who knew supernaturally the designs of God for her
niece, predicted that her nature would undergo a great change.
"You can do what you please, Beatrix" she said to her, "but you will
be a Barefooted Carmelite." This prophecy was not fulfilled until
after the death of the Saint. During the solemn novena which the
Duchess of Alba, Maria of Toledo, caused to be celebrated at the
tomb of the great Reformer, Beatrix spent much time kneeling beside
the virginal body of her aunt, it was then she heard God's call.
She entered the monastery of Alba and there made her profession.
She was successively Prioress at Ocafia, at Toledo, and at Madrid,
and everywhere accomplished much good. She died at Madrid,
in 1639 (Rcforma de los Descales, vol. v. pp. 700-718 and Bollandists
Ada Sancta Teresice, p. 14F. and p. 238).
During the night of December 3, 1577, the Observant Friars kid
napped St. John of the Cross, then chaplain to the nuns of the
Incarnation at Avila, and carried him off secretly to their monastery
in Toledo, on the bank of the Tagus. He was kept shut up there
for nine months, and none of his friends knew what had become of
him. This is what St. Teresa calls the "charming away" of Fr. John
of the Cross. (Lettres de Ste. Thercse, Bouix, vol. ii. 429, and vol. iii.
pp. 1-8.) The monastery was partly destroyed during the war of
Independence, and was entirely demolished during the last revolution.
NOTE 13.
The portrait of the Prince of Eboli is taken from the historical
paintings which formerly adorned the cloister of the Discalced Friars
at Pastrana.
692
APPENDIX.
The Princess of Eboli always wore a patch over her right eye.
History does not tell us why. This portrait was engraved in the
Iconografia Espanola, by V. Carderera.
Pastrana, the former capital of the duchy of that name, is situated
on the slope of a mountain covered with orchards of olives and figs
and cherries. The inhabitants, formerly occupied with commerce and
business interests, are to-day an agricultural people.
In 1576 the Conceptionist nuns established themselves in the build
ing vacated by the Carmelites and still occupy it. (Recuerdos
Teresianos en Espana, por M. P. Y. C. (Mariona Perez y Cuenca)
Madrid 1871, p. 16.)
The crucifix of the famous penitent Catarina of Cardona, whose
story is told by St. Teresa, is of brass about twelve inches long,
and is now mounted on a pedestal. When the night fixed for her
flight into the desert came, her Divine Master encouraged her by a
prodigious miracle. The crucifix, which she wore about her neck,
suddenly lifted itself up and said to her, "Follow -me." She followed
it to a window on the ground floor, and although this window was
closed and barred with iron, Catarina found herself standing in the
street outside without knowing how she got there.
On the tomb of Fr. Rubeo (Rossi) at Rome is this epitaph,
"To the Rev. Fr. Giovanni Battisto Rubeo, of Ravenna, General of
the Carmelite Order, illustrious by his birth, his holiness and his wis
dom. He governed his Order for sixteen years, and enriched it with
privileges obtained from Pope Gregory XIII. He lived seventy years,
and died in the year 1578." The inscription on the tomb of Nicholas
Doria reads: "Here lies the Venerable Fr. Nicholas of Jesus Maria of
Genoa. He belonged to the very noble family of Doria, but was still
more illustrious for his Christian virtues. First General of the Re
formed Carmelites, he was a model for all Generals and all prelates.
Sixtus V. and Philip II. heaped honours upon him. After presiding
nine years over his regenerated Order, after strengthening it in holi
ness by admirable laws, he died full of merits at Alcala de Henares,
May, 1594, aged 55 years. His bones, transported to this place, by
knocking against each other as he predicted, have preached to the
Religious the observance of the Rule. Amen."
The last sentence alludes to a sermon preached by Fr. Nicholas
before the Chapter of Pastrana in which he cried out that he hoped
after his death his bones would knock against each other in his
coffin and thus demand still the observance of the Rule. This hope
he expressed again before his death (Reforma de los Descalgos, vol. ii.
pp. 170-688).
The escutcheon of Pastrana is carved upon the southern gate of
the city.
NOTE 14.
The hermitage given to St. Teresa by Ambrosio Mariano for her
friars lay in a large estate in the midst of which stood a chapel
dedicated to the Prince of the Apostles. Not far from the chapel
APPENDIX. 693
could be found a deserted hut which was occupied by a flock of wild
doves; and which was for this reason called the dove-cote. This
dove-cote and some buildings hastily constructed by Fr. Antonio de
Jesus, Prior of the monastery at Duruelo, provided the monks with
lodging. One of the first cares of Fr. Antonio was to provide a good
water supply to obviate the inconvenience of going to the springs
in the valley, and permit the irrigation of slopes of the hill which were
well adapted to the cultivation of vegetables and fruit. Ambrosia
Mariano, whose knowledge of hydraulic engineering had already
been made use of by Philip II. at Aranjuez (Re forma de los Descalgos,
vol. iii. p. 23), brought an excellent stream of water from Pastrana.
(Ibid. vol. i. pp. 310 et seq.) This spring still exists, and supplies a
public drinking fountain. Saint Peter's chapel stood about three
hundred paces above the dove-cote; access was difficult, • especially
in winter. Fr. Mariano who was a clever engineer, excavated some
natural caverns in the hillside, and made chambers which could be
used as a refectory, kitchen, etc.; he then united the chapel to the
dove-cote by means of a subterranean corridor, lighted by shafts.
It was done in the roughest and simplest manner. (Re forma de los
Descalqos, vol. i. p. 311.) At the end of the XVI. century an earth
quake destroyed the caverns, and the present church and monastery
were then built on the summit of the hill, and consecrated in January,
1600. (Recuerdos Teresianos en Espana, M. P. Y. C., p. 20.) The
ancient dove-cote was made into an oratory to replace the demolished
chapel (Re forma de los Descalqos, vol. i., p. 312). The situation of
this new Carmel was admirably chosen. It overlooks the junction
of three valleys: that to the north is fertile and populous, and
descends towards Pastrana, about a mile away; the second, to the
eastward, is wild and solitary; the third, which runs southward is
lonely and not without a certain grandeur. The hillsides overlooking
these valleys are planted with olives, pines and other evergreens
(Re forma de los Descalqos, vol. i. p. 309).
After 1602 this monastery was the seat of the General Chapters
of the Order in Spain. (Ibid. vol. iii. p. 397.) The Carmelite friars
were expelled in 1836, and their home was given to the Alcantarists
in 1855 for the erection of a college for missionaries to the Philip
pines. These Religious pulled down the cloister and added some
new buildings to the old edifice.
The picture in St. Peter's Oratory, the former dove-cote, bears
this inscription: "Juan Gimenez, an inhabitant of Pastrana, a simple
peasant and a servant of God, endowed with the gift of prophecy,
predicted the foundation of this monastery. He said in the presence
of several persons of the town who were going in procession to this
chapel and this dove-cote, "Do you see that nest of wild pigeons?
A time will come when it will be peopled by tame white doves who
in their flight will rise up unto heaven." In confirmation of this
prophecy many persons were said to have seen a procession of
Religious clad in serge covered with white cloaks, barefooted, with
lighted candles in their hands, issue from a cavern in the hillside,
cross the hill and disappear in the dove-cote.
694 APPENDIX.
In the painting at Pastrana Our Lord bears upon his elbow the
wound which St. Teresa insisted should be depicted in the painting
of Christ bound to the column in the hermitage of St. Joseph's
monastery at Avila.
Of all the grottoes which afforded refuge to the Religious at the
beginning of the foundation, that of St. John of the Cross has alone
been preserved. It is reached from the novices' tier of cells by a
staircase hollowed out of the rock. At the foot of the stair, at a spot
where the rock is perpendicular, there is a sort of platform sheltered
from the rain and the sun by an overhanging ledge of rock; on the
right a grated door, painted red, gives access to the grotto. This
has two stories, of which the lower receives light only through the
door. It is dark and damp, and contains simply an altar with a bust
of St. John of the Cross. The upper story was the cell of the Saint;
it contains his bed, the niche for his crucifix, the block of stone
on which he sat, and that which served him as a table. The bed
is merely a shallow excavation in the rock; it is surrounded by a
little wooden balustrade hung with red damask. Above is an inscrip
tion in Latin which reads, "John inhabited this grotto; he slept upon
this stone. Let us venerate a spot worthy to be remembered forever."
The cloister was decorated with paintings representing men
eminent in the Order, with short biographical notices; there were
also six large pictures depicting the story of the monastery's founding.
These are at present in St. Peter's Oratory. That on the left of our
engraving shows Prince Ruy Gomez giving his property to St. Teresa.
NOTE 15.
As stated in chapter xxiv. of her "Foundations," Saint Teresa
usually travelled in wagons. She, however, yielded to circumstances,
and adopted such methods of transportation as the roads permitted.
It is certain that she sometimes rode a mule. In a letter which she
wrote May 27, 1568, (Lettres de Ste. Therese, Bouix, vol. i. p. 75), to
Dona Luisa de la Cerda, she says, "I am taking with me your side
saddle from the castle, to which I hope you have no objection,
and also another very comfortable one which I bought here. I know
you will be very glad that this saddle, which no one needed, should
be of use to me in my travels, and I shall have much pleasure in
having with me something which belonged to you."
De Ribera gives the following details as to the general conduct
of the Reverend Mother upon her journeys: "As soon as the travellers
had started the rule was followed as though they had been in the
monastery. If a nun forgot to lower her veil when she might be seen,
the Mother reproved her severely. An hour-glass served to measure
time; a bell was rung for the hours of prayer and meditation; when
its tinkle gave the signal all those who accompanied the Carmelites,
monks, priests, seculars, even the very wagoners must be silent
Each wagon was in charge of a nun appointed by the Mother whom
APPENDIX. 695
the others must obey. In the inns the Mother took a room for her
self and the nuns in which they could shut themselves up, and a
portress was appointed who alone held communication with the inn-
people. If the tavern was so poor that no separate chamber could
be obtained she had counterpanes hung across a corner of the room
which the nuns could occupy without being seen. In the morning
the Mother was the first to rise; at night she was the last in bed.
The Carmelites were always accompanied by a priest who confessed
them and celebrated Mass. The day began with the offering of the
Holy Sacrifice whenever it was possible. The Saint always carried
holy water and held an image of the Infant Jesus in her arms; in
this manner she avoided the distractions of the journey" (Vie de Sainte
Thercse, by de Ribera, Bouix, trans, pp. 213 to 215).
NOTE 16.
The hired house in which the convent was founded belonged
to Don Gonzalianes de Ovalle, probably a relative of Juan de Ovalle,
St. Teresa's brother-in-law, who was originally from Salamanca.
At present it is occupied by poor families. Tradition says that no
important alteration has been made in it, so that it must appear at
present very much as the Carmelites left it.
Beatrix of the Conception belonged to the noble family
of Zuniga. Early in youth she desired to give herself to God in the
religious life, but for six years her father opposed this. After a
severe illness, however, he changed his mind and repented having
made any objection to his daughter's vocation. Beatrix accom
panied Anne of Jesus to France and Belgium. Chosen prioress of
the convent at Brussels, after the death of the foundress, she soon
acquired a great reputation for wisdom and sanctity not only in the
convent but in the household of the Infanta Isabella. Her humility
took fright at this, and she resolved to return to Spain. "I wish," she
said, concealing the real reason for her departure, "to die under
the obedience of the Superiors who received my vows." Returning
to the convent at Salamanca, she proved herself as talented and
devout in Spain as she had showed herself in France and Brussels.
She died in 1646 at the age of seventy-five. Her portrait, painted after
her death, is to be seen at Salamanca (Reforma de los Descalqos, vol. vi.
pp. 448-458).
It is rather usual to meet in the streets of the university towns
of Spain during the vacations bands of students, who sing and dance
to the accompaniment of guitars and tambourines. One of them
holds out his hat to the passers-by and asks their generosity. The
alms thus contributed are usually spent on every sort of amusement,
but sometimes students ill-provided with this world's goods obtain
in this way the means to carry on their studies.
In 1614 the city of Salamanca, upon the beatification of St.
Teresa, made her perpetual patroness of the town with the Blessed
696
APPENDIX.
Juan de Sahagon. On October 9th of the same year the Bishop,
Don Louis Ferdinand de Cordova, confirmed this choice in the
Reformed Carmelite church. (Reforma de los Descalqos, vol. iv. pp. 14
et seg.).
A monument in the main street of the city bears the inscription:
"October 16, 1690, St. Juan de Sahagon was canonized. He is patron
of this city of Salamanca." On the subject of the patronage of St.
Teresa we may consult Historia Eclesiastica de Espafia by de la
Fuente, Barcelona, 1859, vol. iv. p. 91.
NOTE 17.
Approaching Alba by the road from Salamanca, across the sweep
of country may be seen an ancient castle in ruins, which crowns the
hill on whose slope the city is built. The river Tonnes flows at the
foot of this hill. The steep descent of the slaty road, ends at a narrow
bridge of twenty-six arches, whence the traveller is greeted by a most
picturesque view; on the left the city, with its four church spires
and three convent belfries, is outlined against the deep blue sky;
the massive donjon of the castle of the Dukes of Alba stands high
on a rocky knoll; and on the right stretch green plains as far as the
eye can reach, while in the foreground lies the wide bed of the
Tonnes with pastures reaching to the horizon where tower the
peaks of the Sierra de Credos.
St. Andrew's well is now situated in a large low room, belonging
to the monastery offices. It formerly supplied all the water used by
the community. Since a cat was drowned in it the water has not
been used, and water is now brought from Tormes in large jars,
and allowed to stand to clarify beside St. Andrew's well.
When St. Teresa arrived at Alba the future monastery was not yet
finished. She therefore lodged for some days in the convent of St.
Elizabeth with the Franciscan sisters. The cell which she occupied
there is still held in veneration.
The excavation of the original tomb of St. Teresa is surrounded
by a balustrade, and closed by a horizontal grating. It is now the
centre of a small, low-ceiled chapel, opening on the lower choir,
and reached from the church by descending several steps. A tablet of
black marble, above the entrance to the chapel, bears an inscription
in gold letters relating to the burial of the Saint.
The reliquary containing the Saint's heart is a heart of rock
crystal, with a cover in enamelled gold, ornamented with jewels.
The pedestal which supports it is also of enamelled gold, richly
studded with rubies, topazes and emeralds. The relic has been
tampered with, and lacks some portion of the upper half. The
heart appears fibrous and dry, of a reddish colour. It is held
upright by means of a silver thread. Near the centre a large wound
is distinctly seen, with gaping edges. The bottom of the reliquary
is covered with a greyish powder, which does not lie evenly but
is heaped up on one side.
APPENDIX. 697
The tomb of Juan de Ovalle and his family bears the following
inscription: "This grave is that of Juan de Ovalle y Godinez, of
Dona Juana de Ahumada, his wife, sister of the sainted Mother Teresa
of Jesus, and of Don Gonsalo de Ovalle, their son, who left to this
convent all their possessions on the charge of having two Masses
each week celebrated in perpetuity, and on two festivals each year,
and on certain saints' days. This monument was finished in 1594."
The tomb of the founders of the monastery is marked thus:
"Here are interred the illustrious Francisco Velasquez and Teresa
Layz his wife, who founded this convent and endowed it with their
goods. This monument was finished in 1577."
The monastery of the Discalced Friars was founded in 1679 in
the somewhat narrow confines of some houses belonging to the Duke
of Alba. After they were expelled from their cloister the government
sequestered it and now uses it as a school (Diccionario Geografico-
Estadistico-Historico de Espana, por Madoz, Madrid, 1846 vol. i. p. 235).
NOTE 18.
Segovia stands upon a very steep mountain; at the foot of the
hill runs the Atayada whose banks are strewn with numerous con
vents, abandoned to-day or used for other purposes. The most in
teresting thing in the city is the Roman aqueduct, dating from the
time of Trajan, consisting of seventy-seven arcades of prodigious
height, forming double rows one above the other.
The memory of Saint Teresa is still cherished in Segovia, with
that of Saint John of the Cross and Saint Dominic, all three having
sojourned in the city.
St. John of the Cross died at Ubeda, but his body was carried
to Segovia. (Refortna de los Descalqos, vol. ii. pp. 594 et seq.) At
one time it was guarded faithfully by a solitary monk, the sole
survivor of the community suppressed during the dispersion of
the religious orders. Now the Reformed Carmelites are re-established
in Spain, and are in possession of the glorious tomb of St. John of the
Cross. In the second story of the Carmelite monastery is an oratory
from which one looks down upon the tomb of the Saint.
The owners of this house have kept intact for nearly three
centuries two survivals of St. Teresa's sojourn here — the turn
of the cloister, and the painted cross with a view of Jerusalem
in the background. This fresco is now under glass surrounded
by a carved gilt frame. It is a true Italian type of
fresco, such as is seldom seen in Spain. The bold outlines recall
the Ecce Homo at Pastrana and the portrait of St. Teresa at Avila.
One is inclined to attribute it to Brother Juan de la Miseria, or
perhaps to St. John of the Cross who had some taste for drawing,
as is proved by the crucifix drawn by him in pen and ink, and pre
served in a reliquary in the convent of the Incarnation at Avila.
Lacordaire records in his life of St. Dominic the severe penance-
APPENDIX.
which the Saint inflicted upon himself each night in the cave at
Segovia during the construction there of the monastery of his Order.
St. Dominic's cave has been completely transformed; it is now
walled in and supported by arches rich with decoration. Nothing
can be seen of the old walls but a small niche above the altar; in
the centre of this niche is a statue of St. Jerome, kneeling before a
crucifix and striking his breast. On the right of the altar in a niche
is a statue of St. Dominic, life size. Prostrate before this statue,
St. Teresa, while profoundly recollected, saw St. Dominic standing
at her left hand. She asked him why he placed himself upon that
side, and he replied, "The other place is for my Master." Immediately,
she beheld Jesus Christ upon her right hand. Soon afterwards Our
Lord disappeared, saying to her, "Rejoice with Me." St. Teresa
remained there for about two hours, and St. Dominic remained with
her; he told her all he had suffered and how God had loaded him with
favours at Segovia.
The first foundation of Carmelite friars in Segovia was made
in an abandoned convent of the Trinitarians; later, they built the
present monastery, one of the most beautiful of the Order. This
monastery was founded in 1586 by a rich woman of Granada, carrying
out the last will of her husband, and according to the advice of Saint
John of the Cross, at that time Vicar Provincial of Andalusia
(Re forma de los Descal$os, vol. ii. pp. 289 et seq.}.
It suffered much during the French invasion, when the troops
used it as a barracks. The enemy set it on fire and the populace
pillaged it, carrying off everything moveable, down to the doors and
windows.
In 1582 Gregory XIII. decreed the correction of the Calendar.
Accordingly October 4th became October 14th. St. Teresa died
on October 4th (old style) at nine o'clock in the evening but as that
date was already commemorated as the feast of St. Francis, St.
Teresa was given October 5th (old style) or October 15th (Gregorian
Calendar).
NOTE 19.
There are three towns called Veas in Spain; one on the road from
Seville to Ayamonte, one near Granada, and a third, the one which
interests us. It lies very much out of the way. as Saint Teresa ex
presses it, amid the mountains which separate Andalusia from the
kingdom of Murcia, in a narrow valley traversed by a tributary
of the Segura. The country thereabouts is fertile, pleasant and well-
shaded. At the westward end of the valley rises a hillock which was
formerly crowned by a stronghold of Moorish or Roman origin.
Near this hillock, which is inhabited as though it were a hive by a
kind of troglodytes, stood the convent of the Discalced Carmelites, in
a narow triangular space.
It was at Veas that St. Teresa for the first time met Fr. Gratian,
was then Visitor to the Carmelite Friars in Andalusia.
In the background, against the mountains which rise up above the
APPENDIX. 699
city to the west, can be seen the tower of the parish church now in
ruins; in the middle distance is seen St. Teresa's cell, which a wretched
soap-maker who lives on the ground floor, has turned into a hen
house; on the left is a remnant of the garden; on the right, among
some fig trees may be seen the dilapidated basin of a fountain which
formerly adorned the courtyard.
On her journey to Seville, St. Teresa stopped to rest with her
nuns in a field near La Venta de Albino in Andalusia. A quarrel
began between some soldiers and peasants gathered there in which
knives were drawn. The Saint cried out, "Brothers, remember that
God who will judge you is present here." Struck with fear at her
words, they stopped fighting and ran away.
The monastery adjoined the parish church of that day, which was
pillaged and burned by the French in 1810. Since then it has been
replaced by the Carmelite church.
In 1838 Government troops in pursuit of Carlists quartered them
selves in the monastery church, and the terrified nuns dispersed to
other houses of the Order in the province. The house was plundered,
and now its clay walls have given way under the rains of winter, and
nothing remains but a huge ruin, in the midst of which the cell
of Saint Teresa alone remains standing.
The former choir of the nuns now serves as sacristy of the
church. The door occupies the place of the former grating. It is
said that the tomb of Caterina de Sandoval contains also all the
documents and papers which prove her beatification.
On her tomb is inscribed, "Here are venerated the relics of the
venerable Mother Catherine of Jesus, Sandoval y Godinez, who aided
the foundress St. Teresa of Jesus in building this convent, made at
her request and with her property. She took the habit here. . . These
relics were placed here November 27, 1832, at the expense of a relative
of the venerable Mother, Don Mariano Fontes Abad Queipo Llano,
Marquis d' Ordono."
St. Teresa's table, which the Sisters intrusted to the care of the
rector of Veas on their departure, is now in the possession of his
nephew, a farmer of the neighbourhood. It is made of pine, and one
of its feet has been replaced. The cover which protects it, of walnut
inlaid with boxwood, was made in 1754.
After his release from the prison where he suffered so much.
St. John of the Cross was made vicar of the convent of Mount Calvary.
On his way thither he passed by Veas and visited the Carmelites.
Anne of Jesus, who was Prioress, anxious to offer him some recrea
tion suited to his character and tastes, told one of the nuns to sing
him a hymn, composed for the previous Easter, which praised the
excellencies and merits of sufferings. The Saint had heard only the
first verses when he signed to the nun to stop, and while grasping
in his two hands the grating of the parlour, in an effort to resist
the force of the divine transport which inspired him, he was raised
above the ground. In spite of his endeavours he remained thus in
ecstasy for over an hour. The chair on which he had been seated
is preserved as a relic in the convent at Jaen.
700
APPENDIX.
The convent possesses three springs of water, of which one called
Saint Albert's was formerly celebrated as a cure for all ills of the
eyes and throat. Now it is frequented only by dogs.
NOTE 20.
Mary of St. Joseph, in the world Maria de Salazar, of the family
of the Dukes of Medina Coeli, ruled the Carmel of Seville until 1584;
she then went to found the Carmel monastery in Lisbon, which she
quitted in 16C3. She died at Cuerva, some miles from Toledo, in the
odour of sanctity (Lettres de Ste. Therese, Bouix, vol. i. pp. 427 et seq.}.
The monastery of Our Lady of Reparation sketched from the
summit of the Giralda was founded in 1574. Fr. Ambrosio Mariano
lived here after the arrival of St. Teresa at Seville. In 1587 the Dis-
calced Friars established a second monastery in this city with a
theological school. (Reforma de los Descalgos, vol. i. p. 479, and vol.
ii. p. 371.) These two houses have escaped destruction.
This house given St. Teresa by her brother still retains its
beautiful interior court, with columns of white marble, which St.
Teresa, accustomed to the gloomy cloisters of Castille, thought ex
tremely elegant, and humourously described as built of alcorsa,
the white sugar icing which confectioners make. (Lettres de Ste. Therese,
Bouix, vol. i. p. 417.) It has also preserved its open gallery, from
which the nuns, as the Saint tells us, could watch the ships of war
coming up the Guadalquivir to protect the city against the revolting
Moors. (Escritos de Sta. Teresa, de la Fuente, vol. ii. p. 256.) The
entrance door with its Doric columns is the same as in the days of
St. Teresa.
When St. Teresa had settled her nuns in the house bought by
her brother, she left them on June 4, 1576, and gave them as superior
her great friend Mary of Saint Joseph. Ten years later the kindness
of Don Pedro Cerezo Pardo permitted the Carmelites to acquire the
property which they now occupy. The only daughter of this generous
donor entered the convent in 1618, and presented to it the manuscript
of "The Interior Castle," which had been given to her father by Fr.
Gratian (Reforma de los Descal^os, vol. i. p. 881, and Escritos de Sta.
Teresa, de la Fuente, vol. i. p. 430).
Teresita, the daughter of Lorenzo, St. Teresa's brother, was only
seven years old when her father returned with her from Peru. As
soon as she met her aunt she loved her with all her heart. St. Teresa
was in turn deeply attached to her. Fr. Gratian permitted the child,
who did not seem to him made for the outer world, to be received
and kept in the Reformed monasteries, until the day when she should
make her profession if she so desired. Teresita, then, was admitted
into the monastery at Seville, and wore from that time the Carmelite
habit with the hood. She took the vows at Avila, after the death of
her aunt, and died a holy death in 1610 (CEuzres de Ste. Therese, Bouix,
vol. i. pp. 440-442, and Reforma de los Descalq os, vol. iii. pp. 723-725).
APPENDIX. 701
In 1866 the reliquary embroidered by St. Teresa was in the pos
session of the last survivor of the Carthusians of the monastery of
Our Lady of Grottoes. It is a wonderful specimen of its kind, and
proves that those writers who have praised the skill of St. Teresa
in needlework have underrated, not exaggerated her ability.
NOTE 21.
What St. Teresa wrote in 1576 of the journey to Caravaca is true
to-day; the roads are still what they were then, or rather there are
no roads but what are called Caminos de perdices, that is unbeaten
paths across the Sierras, possible only for foot-passengers or mules.
Three summits of the Cordileras must be crossed from Veas to Cara
vaca. The descent on the third day towards the valley of the Segura
brings one into the Vega or plain which extends to the walls of the
castle. The town is surrounded by suburbs planted with orange trees
and olives, a few groups of palms, some cypresses, and aloes.
The Carmelite monastery stands on the slope of a hill, facing
south and protected from the north by mountains. The building
is solid and well proportioned. There are three gardens, the first
enclosed by the house itself, the second, planted with cypresses, orange
trees and other trees with thick foliage, forms a shelter from the
sun, and the third, a kitchen garden is joined to the monastery
grounds by a modern wall.
The original Act of Authorization is preserved in the city archives.
The impression of the seal is not very clear, and it is not possible to
distinguish whether or not the cross is placed above the Carmel.
The statue of St. Joseph at Caravaca is identical in appearance
with that described in note 8 of the Appendix (Lettres de Ste. Thercse,
Bouix, vol. ii. pp. 143 et seq).
The statue of the Blessed Virgin given by St. Teresa (Ibid. p. 143)
is carved. The Infant Jesus has been added at a later date.
The cross of Caravaca is of wood about three inches long, covered
with copper on one side only. On the copper is engraved a Spanish
inscription, saying, "Our holy Mother Teresa carried this cross during
her lifetime; it was found in her bed after her death." Anne of St.
Bartholomew, who laid out the body of the Saint, kept the cross for
some time, then she gave it to Anne of Jesus. The latter wore it
always in memory of this dearly loved Mother. After her death,
the Carmelites of Brussels agreed among themselves that their Prior
ess should have the privilege of wearing the cross suspended from
the girdle. This custom exists to-day, and when a new Prioress
is chosen, the retiring Prioress gives the cross of Caravaca to her
successor in the presence of the assembled sisterhood (Bollandists,
A eta St. Tcresia, p. 308).
St. Teresa's portrait at Caravaca appears to be a copy of that in
the monastery at Seville; it is of the same size, the canvas is the
same, and the method of painting has the same transparency. At
Seville a clumsy effort at cleaning has rubbed away the tones of the
702 APPENDIX.
face; here on the contrary, the features have been obscured by a
glaze of opaque colour. The guimpe and the upper part of the cloak
have also been retouched. The inscription, "La Madre Teresa de
Jesus" proves that the picture antedates the Saint's beatification.
The town of Caravaca is celebrated throughout Spain for its
pilgrimages. The faithful come to venerate a wooden cross with a
double transverse like the patriarchal cross. Popular belief declares
that it is made of the holy wood on which our Saviour died, and
that it was brought down by angels under the following circumstances:
During the domination of the Moors a Catholic priest who had
been taken prisoner was ordered by his master, an infidel who was in
command of Caravaca, to celebrate before him the holy sacrifice of
the Mass, whose ceremonies had been explained to him. The priest
obeyed in the hope of converting the Mussulman. As he was about
to begin the office he perceived that there was no cross upon the altar,
and turned to request his master to place one there. At the same
instant the latter, filled with fear and respect, said to him, "Is not
that what you seek?" pointing to a cross which two angels bore
through a window surrounded by a miraculous light. After Mass the
prince declared himself a Christian, received baptism, and gave all his
captives their liberty (Escritos de Sta. Teresa, de la Fuente, vol. ii. p.
104).
The Bollandists in the VII. volume of the month of May of the
Acta Sanctorum, page 392 et seq. report numerous miracles vouch
safed to the pious who have gone to venerate the cross of Caravaca.
For centuries it has been the custom to make fac-similes of this sacred
cross of all sizes and materials.
NOTE 22.
Fr. Mariano had a cave constructed for Caterina of Cardona which
communicated by a subterranean passage with the church of Our
Lady of Help. (See note 13 of this Appendix.) This cave at present
forms part of a large paper factory, in the new village of Villagorda
de Jucar.
In 1603 the monastery of Our Lady of Help was transferred to
Villanueva de la Jara, and with it the relics of the illustrious penitent.
Three years later her bones were placed by the Prior, Pedro of
Jesus-Maria, in a niche cut in the thickness of the church wall, on the
Gospel side and protected by a grating. Above the niche was a
representation of the servant of God, and some scenes from her life
(Re forma de los Descalqos, vol. i. p. 639).
In Spain wine is usually carried in bottles of calf or goat skin,
coated with pitch. Plate XXII., No. 5, shows the pots of earthen
ware used to receive it, and the Catalonian merchants sampling it.
Anne of St. Augustine died at Villanueva de la Jara, December
11, 1624, aged seventy-seven years. Her body retained its flexibility
and warmth; it exhaled a delicious odour, and the open eyes re-
APPENDIX. 703
mained clear. In 1628 a legal opening of her coffin took place and
the body was found not only uncorrupted but smelling very sweetly
(Reforma de los Descalgos, vol. v. p. 520, and CEuvres de Ste. Thercse,
Bouix, vol. ii. p. 126 et seq.).
Her tomb bears the inscription, "Here lies the body of the vener
able Anne of St. Augustine, companion of St. Teresa; she was en
dowed with rare virtues, and Our Lord worked many miracles through
her, both during her life and after her death. She died December
11, 1624, aged 77 years."
Her hat, made of whitish felt, edged with braid, and ornamented
with the coat of arms of the Reformed Carmel, and trimmed with
pearls and a violet ribbon, is preserved as a relic.
St. Teresa arrived at Villanueva on February 21st, and spent a
month there. Before her departure she gave to Anne of St. Augustine,
whom she had appointed directress and sacristan, a statue of the
Infant Jesus given her by the Prior of La Roda, (Reforma de los
Descal^os, vol. i. p. 737) and begged her to pray constantly to that
august Provider. Anne placed the statue in the choir near the tower
and installed the Infant Jesus at the "Great Procurator of the com
munity." Her confidence was rewarded more than once by the
miraculous assistance of Providence. (Ibid. vol. i. pp. 737-740, vol.
iv. pp. 421-424, 436-437.) Some time later the statue was given to a
benefactress of the monastery, and passed into the hands of Don
Andre Pacheco, Bishop of Cuenca. The directress was broken
hearted at the loss, but was consoled by receiving a much more
beautiful representation of the Infant Saviour from Toledo (Ibid.
vol. i. p. 737 iv. p. 423).
The statuette is of carved wood; covered by garments which dis
figure it. It has a very gentle and benign expression. The Infant
blesses with His right hand. Two keys, one of gold, the other of silver,
symbolizing those of the cloister and the turn, are fastened together
by a chain and hang from His hand. In the left hand He holds a
globe, surmounted by a cross. To this cross is attached by a pink
ribbon a little silver basket, beautifully made, which is intended to
receive the alms of visitors. Two silver bells hang from the girdle.
The jar belonging to Anne of St. Augustine is of white Cuenca
pottery and thirteen inches high, the pot is of the same material.
Both pieces bear the coat of arms of the Order of Mercy, surrounded
by the inscription, "Para mi Madre Ana de S. Augustin." They are of
excellent manufacture and carefully decorated.
Mary of the Martyrs, the first Prioress of the monastery at
Villanueva, founded that of Valentia in 1588 (Ibid. vol. ii. p. 453).
NOTE 23.
Don Alvaro de Mendoza had obtained permission from the Dis-
calced Carmelites to be buried after his death by the side of St.
Teresa, from whom he did not wish to be separated. This was
granted on condition that he should, at his own expense, build a
704
APPENDIX.
sanctuary for the Carmelite church at Avila, and a tomb for the
sainted Mother in the most suitable situation, with his own beside it.
This agreement could not be carried out, for the body of the Saint,
transported clandestinely from Alba to Avila, was returned to Alba
by order of the Pope. The Bishop's tomb is surmounted by a fine
statue in white marble, representing the prelate at prayer.
No better eulogy of the canons Reinoso and Salinas can be
imagined than the title which St. Teresa gave them. "The two holy
friends of the Virgin." Their tomb is in the Cathedral of Palencia;
they lie together beneath a monument upon which their kneeling
figures are carved in stone.
The Bernardines at present occupy the convent adjoining the
church of Our Lady of the Street. It was given to them by Ferdi
nand VII. after the destruction of their own cloister. St. Teresa's
cell is preserved with great veneration. The larger choir-grating was
placed there by the Sa.int with the permission of the Cathedral
chapter, according to a letter dated January 4, 1581: "The chapter
has granted us the infinite favour of opening a grating into this
church." (Lettres de Ste. Therese, Bouix, vol. iii. p. 250.)
The Carmelites lived only ten years in this building which they
found very restricted. Then Canon Reinoso offered them his own
house, which they accepted with conditions. They then began to build,
but having no other resources, were obliged to use their own dowries
for the work and were soon reduced to the greatest poverty. God
was good to them and sent them as a novice Dona Luisa of
Aragon, whose fortune enriched the community (Reforma de los
Descalqos, vol. i. p. 746).
From her infancy Luisa d'Aragon was remarkable for her virtues
and her extraordinary piety. At the age of eleven she read the
writings of St. Teresa, and by constant study of them advanced rapidly
towards perfection. She wished to consecrate herself to God, but
at eighteen to please her parents, she married Don Eugenio Manrique
de Padilla, Adelantado of Castille, yet promised Our Lord that, if she
survived her husband, she would enter the Carmelite Order. Don
Eugenio died after sixteen years of married life. His widow had
over twenty thousand masses said for the repose of his soul, put
her affairs in order, and entered the convent at Palencia. Before
pronouncing her vows, she gave away all her possessions to charitable
works, and endowed the convent so largely that she deserves to be
called its foundress. In the convent Luisa was distinguished for her
power of absorption in prayer. After praying she was sometimes
fairly transfigured, and shone with an angelic beauty (Lettres de Ste.
Therese, Bouix, vol. iii. pp. 345-50, and Reforma de los Descalqos, vol.
iv. pp. 777-787).
St. Teresa's folding chair recalls those of St. John of the Cross
in the monastery at Jaen and in the sacristy of the church at Veas.
It is very plain, well made, and better preserved than the other two.
Palencia is situated in a very fertile country and has a delightful
climate. Its Gothic Cathedral of the XIV. century presents a
number of fine studies in Christian archaeology.
APPENDIX. 705
NOTE 24.
During the sojourn of Saint Teresa at Palencia the Bishop of
Osma (that Doctor Velasquez who had been her confessor at Toledo)
suggested to her the establishment of a convent at Soria, a little city
of his diocese. A rich widow, Dona Beatrix de Veamonte y Navarre,
had offered for this purpose her mansion, a fine building most desirably
situated, and with it the necessary funds for the foundation, as well
as an annual income of five hundred ducats. The Bishop was willing
to cede them a church which was in a parish too poor to support it.
It was very near the proposed site, and could easily be connected with
it by a covered passage.
Probably the first time the cross appeared emblazoned on the
order of Carmel was on the Act of Foundation at Soria. The Re
formed Rule had had a Provincial for only three months (Escritos de
Sta. Teresa, de la Fuenle, vol. i. p. 14).
Catherine of Christ, first prioress at Soria, was a relative of St.
Teresa. From her childhood she was blessed by heaven. At ten
she consecrated herself to Gcd by a vow of virginity, and thence
forth led a life of recollection and penance. In 1583 she founded
the monastery at Pampeluna and in 1588 that of Barcelona. She
died in the latter, February 3, 1594. Seven months after her happy
departure her coffin was opened; the wood had decayed, the habit
was consumed, but the body was fresh, rosy and flexible, and emitted
a sweet scented oil. Later it was transported to the Carmelite
monastery at Pampeluna.
To the historical critic the Life of St. Teresa by Yepes is inferior to
that by Fr. Francisco de Ribera, the Jesuit, written nine years earlier.
On this subject consult the Bollandists (Ada's. Tercsicc, pp. 2 and 3).
The Order of Reformed Carmelite Friars contains a certain
number of establishments, known as hospices, which are occupied
by a few religious riot ruled by a Prior, but by a Vicar named by the
General or the Provincial, and always removable. To be classed as a
Priory a house must count at least six religious in holy orders,
including the Prior.
After the suppression of the religious orders the hospice at Soria,
was put up for sale. A philanthropic society, la Numancia, bought
it as a lay school for boys and girls. Their cries and noisy games
much disturbed the retirement of the Carmelites. In 1867 the school
was removed. The inlluence of Monsieur Hye Hoys and another
prominent person had perhaps something to do with this change.
When Fr. Didace of the Presentation, General of the Discalced
Carmelites in Spain, was about to publish St. Teresa's letters, Palafox
composed in one month a magnficent commentary upon them. This
work, dedicated to Philip IV., appeared at Saragossa in 1658.
NOTE 25.
Saint Teresa was in Avila when Saint John of the Cross arrived
with the request that she found a monastery at Granada. Several
706 APPENDIX.
people of importance in that city, and some young ladies belonging
to distinguished families, had made a tempting offer through Fr.
lago of the Holy Trinity, Provincial Vicar for Andalusia. Gregory
XIII., by a brief of June 22, 1580, had made the reformed monasteries
into a special Province, exempting them from the jurisdiction of all
Superiors of the Order, except the Father General. On March
4th following, Father Jerome Gratian was elected first Provincial of
the Reform, by the Chapter of Alcala. But the large number of
monasteries and their distance from one another made the govern
ment of them by one superior a difficult task, so Father Gratian
appointed Vicars-Provincial who, within definite territorial limits,
acted in his name (Re forma de los Descalqos, vol. i. p. 725).
The latter, then on his regular visit to the community at Veas,
had proposed to the venerable Anne of Jesus to take this foundation
upon herself. She did not share in the illusions of her superior;
these seductive promises seemed to her without reality, and she also
foresaw that the Archbishop would never give his consent. However,
when the Divine Master showed her in prayer that He desired the
foundation, she ceased to oppose it. It was agreed that the Father
Vicar should return to Granada to talk over the matter with the
persons who had assured him of their generous support, and that
Saint John of the Cross, who happened to be also at Veas, should go
to Avila bearing two letters, one from Fr. lago, demanding per
mission from the Provincial, Fr. Gratian, then at Salamanca, the
other from Sister Anne of Jesus, begging Saint Teresa to come to
Granada. But Teresa, who was firmly persuaded that the divine
will required her presence at Burgos, sent Anne of Jesus to found
Granada in her place. .
The Provincial did not have the success he expected; he had all
the difficulty in the world in obtaining even a small part of what
had been offered, and the Archbishop's permission was steadily
refused. In spite of his lack of success the foundress and her com
panions started on mules from Veas at three o'clock in the morning
of January 15, 1582, and arrived at Granada .at the same hour on the
20th. The proprietor of the house rented by Fr. lago broke the con
tract when she learned it was to be used as a monastery, and the
Carmelites would have found themselves without shelter if a saintly
widow, Dona Ana de Penelosa, had not received them into her home.
Anne of Jesus hastened to write the Archbishop herself, asking
for his authorization; the prelate was in bed, sick with the fright
he had received in a recent thunder storm when lightning had struck
the chamber next his bedroom in the night, burning part of his
library, and killing some of his cattle. He believed he saw the
finger of God in this disaster, and dared no longer withhold his
consent; he even sent his Vicar General to say the first Mass, and
ordered him to acquiesce in any demand of the Prioress (CEuvres de
Ste. Thercse, Bouix, vol. ii. pp. 486-494).
For seven months the Carmelites lodged with Ana de Penelosa,
and at the end of that time they were able to hire a house. Soon
afterwards Anne of Jesus became so seriously ill that the last sacra-
APPENDIX. 707
ments were administered on October 4th. Almost at the same hour
Saint Teresa died at Alba. When the venerable Anne had received
the Holy Viaticum Saint Teresa appeared to her, and spoke with her
for a long time. Anne, who knew nothing of the illness of the Saint,
regarded this apparition as an announcement of her own death. It
was on the contrary the signal for her recovery (Reforma de los
Descales, vol. iv. pp. 248 et seq.}.
The dowries of six rich young ladies who entered the community
in the following year provided the means of buying the mansion of
the Duke de Seza, originally the property of the celebrated Gonsalvo
de Cordova, known as the Great Captain. It is occupied by the
Carmelites to-day (CEuvres de Ste. Thercse, Bouix, vol. ii. pp. 499-501;
and Reforma de los Descalqos, vol. iv. p. 249).
Anne of Jesus had accompanied St. Teresa to Veas. Besides the
foundation of Granada, she made that of Madrid, and later established
the Rule in France and Belgium. She also introduced the Discalced
Friars into the Netherlands. She died at Brussels March 4, 1621
(Reforma de los Descalqos, vol. iv. pp. 242-270 et seq.}, having practised
virtue to a heroic degree, as Pope Leo XIII. declared in concluding
one of the processes for her beatification.
Over the side door of the church of the Discalced Carmelites is
a curious group in which a crowned woman gives with her left hand an
object which appears to be a lock, to a kneeling nun with a halo
about her head; while in her right hand she holds a key.
The Bollandists give, on p. 509 of the Acta Sanctae Teresiae,
the original text and fac-simile of St. Teresa's act of renunciation.
This is the translation: "I, Teresa of Jesus, professed nun of the
monastery of the Incarnation at Avila, of the Order of Our Lady of
Mount Carmel, who now inhabit the monastery of St. Joseph in the
same city, where the Primitive Rule is observed, which I have
hitherto followed in that monastery with the permission of our
reverend father Juan Battisto Rubeo, and which I have also permis
sion to follow at the monastery of the Incarnation, if my superiors
order me to return there, I declare that I wish to keep to the said
Rule all my life, and I renounce all the privileges which our Sover
eign Pontiffs have permitted for its mitigation. With the help of
Our Lord 1 intend and promise to observe it unto my death, and as
this is the truth, I sign it with my name, this third day of July,
1571__Teresa of Jesus."
Bishop Palafox, commentator of the Saint's letters, gave the
cross taken from St. Teresa's tomb to the Carmelites of Bologna.
In the pedestal are encased some bones of St. Teresa.
The first subject of the mural painting in the portress' room at
Salamanca is a sort of allegory representing the extension of the
Carmelite Order, the second symbolizes the establishment of the
Reformed Rule in France and in the Low Countries. The order
did not cross the Spanish border until after the death of St. Teresa.
The translation of the Latin text, omitted in the engraving, is: "It
(the Carmel) shall extend its branches unto the sea." The Spanish
708
APPENDIX.
inscription runs: "From the grave goes forth a ray which like
a shining star illumines France and the whole world."
Thomas of Jesus, after having held various offices in the Carmelite
Order in Spain, was at Rome when Anne of Jesus, having made the
foundation at Brussels, asked the General of the Italian Congrega
tion to send some Carmelite Friars to direct the nuns in Belgium.
Fr. Thomas was sent to Brussels, arriving August 10, 1610, with five
other religious. In 1617 he was named first Provincial of the pro
vince created in Belgium under the patronage of St. Joseph. He
died at Rome, May 24, 1627 (Refurma de los Descalcos vol iv pp
677, ct seq.).
NOTE 26.
On the print of Caterina de Tolosa, who gave herself and her
seven children to God in the Order of Mount Carmel, is the following
inscription: "My children, I have known by experience how little
pleasure comes from the world and worldlings. May God be praised,
who is the source of all good, and the remedy for all evils."
The Augustinian church at Burgos was destroyed during the war
of Independence. At present the miraculous figure of Christ is
venerated in the Cathedral. That part of the hospital where St.
Teresa lodged was respected scrupulously until very lately. But a few
years ago alterations were made which nothing can excuse.
St. Luke's church was formerly parochial. It is now attached
to the convent of Augustinian nuns, called of the Mother of God.
The wall which contained the niche for the Blessed Sacrament
was rebuilt after a great inundation. The event is commemorated
by a painted monstrance, with this inscription: "On this spot there
was formerly a niche in the wall, inscribed, 'On May 24, 1582,
Ascension Day, the river rose so high that the city was flooded.
The terrified inhabitants deserted their homes, and the religious their
cloisters. The sainted Mother, full of confidence in Divine Provi
dence, escaped all danger in her convent. She ordered the Sacred
Species to be brought to this spot and placed in this niche., and she
remained in adoration before the Holy Sacrament with her daughters,
begging the Lord to remove the impending danger. The waters sank
so mercifully that the Archbishop and other persons of distinction con
sidered it a miracle due to the holy Foundress.' "
St. Teresa's cell in the monastery at Burgos has a view extend
ing over the garden and beyond the walls to the hills which form the
horizon beyond the river. Below in a courtyard is a well with a
pentagonal curb, and a basin paved with stone for washing, dating
from the period of the foundation. It is probably for this reason that
it is called St. Teresa's well.
Ribera writes: "I have seen two small pictures, one of our
Risen Saviour, the other of the Virgin, which the Mother had painted
APPENDIX. 709
at Salamanca by Juan de Pegna, who died since, a member of the
Society of Jesus. These paintings are of a truly ravishing beauty."
The foundation dates from 16C6; five years later the Carmelite
friars were installed in the present monastery (Refonna de los Des-
cal^os, vol. iii. p. 604 et seq.}.
NOTE 27.
The body of the Saint was laid in a deep grave, filled in with
bricks and stones and slates. The Carmelites knew that the city of
Avila would claim it of them, and they even feared that the authorities
would use violence or fraud to obtain it. In this they were wrong,
for strictly legal methods were employed.
God was pleased to glorify the virginal remains of His well-
beloved; the grave exhaled a peculiarly sweet odour, which could
be perceived above the layers of bricks and stones. This marvel
led the Provincial to have the coffin opened, which was done July 4,
1583. The body had not suffered the slighest taint of corruption,
and its fragrance filled the convent and lingered for several days.
On this occasion Fr. Gratian detached the right hand. The body was
clothed in a new habit, laid in another coffin and replaced in the
grave.
The entreaties of the civil authorities of Avila, supported by the
Bishop Don Alvaro de Mendoza (of whom frequent mention has
been made), found favour with the Superiors of the Reformed Rule.
The chapter held at Pastrana in the year 1585, presided over by
Fr. Nicholas Doria, consented to the translation of the beloved
relics to the church of the Discalced Carmelites at Avila. Fr. Gre-
gorio Nazianzen Vicar Provincial of Castile, was charged to carry
out this order, in the greatest possible secrecy, lest the enmity of the
Duke of Alba and of the people generally be aroused. He was
instructed to leave the left hand at Alba. The body was lifted from
the coffin as swiftly as possible, and was found to be intact and
still exhaling a delightful odour (Ribera, Bouix trans., pp. 584-588).
The joy of the Carmelites of Avila was not long lived. An uncle
of the Duke of Alba wrote to Rome and so influenced Sixtus V.
that His Holiness ordered the Avila nuns to return the body to
Alba as quickly as possible. This restitution was made on August
23, 1586 (Ibid. pp. 592 et seq.} On July 10, 1589, the Pope decreed
that the body of the Saint should remain at Alba forever (Ibid.
p. 595.) It now reposes in an urn of black marble, surmounted by
two angels in white marble. The tomb is in the middle of the re-
table of the high altar, behind a silver grating. The Carmelites are
able to touch the tomb of their Mother, from which they are separated
only by the grating of the upper choir.
The room in which Saint Teresa died is on the ground floor; and
has been transformed into an oratory. The ceiling has been elevated
into a dome, and the walls are covered with objects of piety, and
paintings representing different scenes in the life and death of the
710
APPENDIX.
Saint. The window alone keeps its primitive appearance. The altar
now stands in the place of the Saint's bed.
The elbow and upper arm shown in a reliquary at Alba are still
covered with flesh, much dried and almost mummified (Bollandists,
Acta Sie. Teresia, pp. 325 et seq.).
Fr. Jerome Gratian wore the little finger of the Saint's right
hand about his neck all his life. He died in the Observant monastery
at Brussels, and the Prior of that house and the Provincial of the
Discalced Carmelite Friars in Belgium, each claimed possession of the
relic. The Infanta Isabella through the Nuncio induced the Pope
to give it to her. In October, 1614, the Archduchess gave it to Anne
of Jesus, Prioress of the Carmelites of Brussels.
St. Teresa's right collar-bone was detached by Thomas of Jesus
in 1604 when, by the order of the General of the Spanish Congregation,
he enclosed the body of the Saint in a new and hermetically sealed
coffin, to avoid the further indiscretions of the devotion of the faith
ful. When Thomas of Jesus was sent to the Netherlands he took the
relic with him, and at his death left it to the Discalced monastery
at Brussels to be preserved there perpetually. In 1833 the Pro
vincial Vicar of the Carmelites gave it to the Carmelite nuns of
Brussels, on their agreement to return it to the Fathers of their
Order if they ever established themselves again in Brussels.
The chest in which St. Teresa's body was placed at Avila now
holds the body of Isabel of St. Dominic, one of her earliest nuns,
and foundress of the convent at Saragossa in 1588 (Reforma dc los
Descalqos, vol. ii. p. 447).
Anne of St. Bartholomew made her profession as a lay sister in
St. Joseph's convent at Avila, August 15, 1572. She was among
the number of Carmelites who went to France in 1604; her Superiors
persuaded her to take the black veil at Paris, and she founded suc
cessively the convents at Pontoise and at Tours. In 1612 she founded
the convent at Antwerp, where she finished her days. By her virtues,
by the graces given her by God, she won the esteem of all, and was
in great favour with Prince Albert and Princess Isabella, governors
of the Netherlands. In 1622 and 1624 by her prayers, she miraculously
delivered the city of Antwerp, beseiged by the Gueux. She died
June 7, 1626. (Reforma de los Descalqos, vol. iv. pp. 577. et seq., and
Bollandists, Acta St&. Teresia, pp. 643 et seq.} Her beatification has
been introduced at Rome.
NOTE 28.
Towards the end of the 16th century the Holy See was besieged
with prayers from all parts of Spain for the beatification of Teresa
of Jesus. Pope Clement VII. received these requests favourably.
In 1614 Paul V. sent the brief of beatification, authorizing Discalced
Carmelite frairs and nuns to celebrate the feast of their beloved
Mother yearly on the 15th of October (Bollandists, Acta Sta. Teresia,
pp. 240 et seq.).
APPENDIX.
711
Her cult spread throughout Europe with the promulgation of the
Reformed Rule. Her writings, translated into several languages,
attracted the esteem of the learned (Ibid. pp. 353 et seq.) and the
love and veneration of souls eager for perfection. Scarcely had the
ceremonies of Beatification been completed ere the project for the
supreme honour of canonisation was formed. Paul V. began new
proceedings which his successor concluded in 1622. (Ibid. pp. 245
et seq.) Fr. Dominic of Jesus Maria, Governing General of the Order
in Italy, was the instrument employed by God to hasten the workings,
usually so deliberate, of the Roman Congregations (Refonna de los
Descalqos, vol. iv. p. 893.) Fr. Dominic was born at Catalayud, in the
kingdom of Aragon, on May 16, 1559. At the age of fifteen he
entered the Carmelite Order, and at the age of thirty joined the
Reformed Rule. His power of recollection was extraordinary; in
hours of prayer his spirit detached itself from all external preoccupa
tion, and during the entire period of devotion his imagination never
wandered. Called to Rome by Clement VIII., at the request of the
General of the newly-established Italian Congregation, he was invested
with high offices. In 1617 he was made Governing General. In 1620
Paul V. sent him as Legate to the army of Ferdinand II., which was
fighting against the heretics. One day, while walking near Piltzen,
he found in the ruins of a castle sacked by the Calvinists a small
picture of the Nativity of Our Lord, on which the schismatics had
wreaked their vengeance by destroying the eyes of all the figures,
except that of the Infant Jesus. Moved to tears, he showed the
picture to Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria, commander-in-chief of the
imperial army, and declared he would have it venerated throughout
the world.
After the surrender of Piltzen the two armies approached Prague.
Owing to the inferior number of his troops, Maximilian dared not begin
the attack. Dominic, in the name of God and of the Blessed Virgin,
assured him of victory, and the battle was begun. Under the im
pulse of a sudden inspiration the monk, holding his crucifix in one
hand and the picture upon his breast, rode before the lines of Catholic
soldiers; his fiery words filled them with such courage that in a few
hours their adversaries were beaten.
Father Dominic profited by the favour of Gregory XV. which
this victory brought him, to push the process of St. Teresa's canonisa
tion to a rapid and successful end. March 12, 1622, the great Reformer
of the Carmelites was placed among the ranks of saints, at the same
time as Saint Ignatius Loyola, Saint Francis Xavier, Saint Philip Neri,
and Saint Isador, the Labourer (Bollandists, Acta Stce. Teresia, p. 305).
Fr. Dominic died at Vienna, in 1630, while once more Legate, sent
by Urban VIII. to the Emperor of Austria (Reforma de los Descal$os,
vol. iv. pp. 789-910).
The painting which was the cause of the victory of Prague is
venerated in one of the churches of the Discalced Carmelite friars at
Rome, called Our Lady of Victory.
The banner carried during the ceremonies of St. Teresa's canoni
sation is of red damask, ornamented with embroideries and escut-
APPENDIX.
cheons; in the centre is a figure of St. Teresa kneeling, looking up to
heaven, which is represented by rays surrounded by cherubim. At
each corner of the banner, and on each of the lobes that terminate
it, the escutcheon of the Reformed Carmelites is shown. Two other
escutcheons, one of the Mendoza, are also on the lobes.
The c:oak preserved by the Carmelites of Seville is bordered on
the outside by a silver braid, upon a band of dark blue silk; the
collar is trimmed with gold and silver embroidery, on a crimson
ground, between two narrow bands of yellow silk. The lining is of
blue damask; the button has a loop of silk and gold thread. Another
cloak is kept in the convent of St. Hermenegild at Madrid, in a
large glass reliquary. The Carmelite nuns of the Rue d'Enfer at
Paris claim to possess a third.
No access is permitted to this precious manuscript of "The Interior
Castle" without a special letter from the General of the Order. Armed
with this authority, M. Hye Hoys was permitted to examine the
volume and to make sketches from it. It measures about \2l/2 by
9 inches; the edges are gi'.t, and the covers inlaid with silver; there
are hinges and other ornaments of enamel gilt. Dona Juana cle Men
doza, Duchess of Bejar, who left her children and the attractions of
the world to don the sackcloth of the Carmelites at Seville, had this
rich binding executed during her novitiate (Rcforma de los Descalgos,
vol. i. p. 881).
St. Teresa made with her own hands a chalice veil of very elaborate
netting, which she especially desired should be given to the first
Italian convent of the Reformed Rule. (Historia Generalis Fratrum
Discalceatorum Beatissmae Virginis Mariae de Monte Carmelo, Con-
gregationis Sancti Eliae, per Petrum a Sancto Andrea Romae, 1668-
1671, vol. i. p. 41.)
The Saint's writing-case is made of a very thin dark wood; it is
divided into four parts; in the centre between two sand bottles is
an ink well which has probably suffered from the devout rapacity of
visitors, for it is much injured. The compartment intended for pens,
etc., is empty; it formerly contained St. Teresa's pen, which has
recently disappeared. The hinges are replaced or strengthened by
pieces of silk with gold flowers. The case measures in length about
5l/> inches; in width about 4j4 inches; in height, 1^4 inches without
the cover.
INDEX.
Abecedario, Tercer, Life, iv. 8
Accusations, false, Found, xxvii.
Acosta, Diego cle, Rel. viii. 20
Acquaintances, Life, vii. 11;
xxxvii. 4; xxi. 14
Acuna Dona Maria de, Found, x
8; xi. 2, 6
Affection of the nuns, Found.
xxvii. 16
Agnes of Jesus, Life, xxxvi. 4;
Found, iii. 1, 5, 7, 17; xix. 6;
xxix. 9
Aguiar, the licentiate, Found
xxxi. 31, 32
Aguila, Dona Antonio del, Found
xvii. 4, 8
Aguila, Catalina, Ltfo iii. 5; xxiii.
Aguila, Juan, Rel. vii. 5
Aguila, Maria, Life, i. 3
Aguila, Mencia, Life, xxiii. 7
Aguilar, Barthol, AJ<?/. vii. 13
Ahumada, Antonio, Life, iv. 1
Ahumada, de Dona Beatriz, Life,
i. 3, note, 7; xxxviii. 1
Ahumada, Gonzalo, Life, xxxv. 14
Ahumada, de Juana, Life, xxix. 6,
8; xxxi. 22; xxxiii. 13; xxxv. 14;
xxxvi. 4; Found, xx. 1.
Ahumada, de, Vicente, Found, iii.
Alba, Duchess of, Rel. vii. 11;
Found, xxi. 3
Alba de Tormes, Found, xx. 12
Alcala, Monastery founded in,
Life, xxxv. 1, 2; xxxvi. 29, note;
first chapter of the reform in,
Found, xxix. 24
Alcantara. See St. Peter of Al
cantara.
Alderete, Diego Gratian de,
Found, xxiii. 1
Alerio, Fra Juan, Found, ii. 1
All Saints, Rel. ix. 21
Alms, Found, xxvii. 12
Almsgiving of the Saint, Life, i.
6; Rel. ii. 3
Alonso de Jesus Maria, Found
xxi. 9
Alonso, Martin, Found, xxviii. 20
Alonzo Juan, Found, xxxi. 5
Altimiras, Juan, Life, xxxviii. 34
Alva, Duke, Life, xxviii. 4
Alvarez, Alonso, Life, v. 16-
Found, iii. 5; xv. 6, 8, 15
Alvarez, F. Baltasar. S.J., Life
xxiii. 6; xxiv. 5; xxv. 13 20-
xxyi. 4; xxvii. 4, 20; xxviii. 21;
xxix 5, 6; xxxii. 16; xxxiii. 4,
12, 13; Rel. i. 9; vii. 5; xi. 7
£<>«»<*. iii. 1, 4, 11; xxix. 5:
Plate viii.
Alvarez del Aguila, Fernando,
Ltfe, xxiii. 3, 18; xxiv. 5; xxix. 6
Alvarez, F. Rodrigo, S.J., Rel. vii.
1; viii.; Found, xxvii. 19
Alvarez, Garcia, Found, xxv. 5, 7,
Ambrogio Mariano. See Mariano
of St. Benedict.
Amusements, Life, vii. 1; Rel i
14
Andrada, Found, xv. 6, 7, 8, 9
Angels and evil spirits, Life, xxix.
16-18; xxxi. 11
Ana de Santo Domingo. See
Domingo.
Anne's, St., Medina, Found, iii. 9
Anne, St., Hermitage of, in Villa-
nueva, Found, xxviii. 33
Anne of the Angels, Life, xxxvi.
23; Found, iii. 1, 7, 17; ix. 5-
xvii. 14
Anne of St. Albert, Found, xxiv.
3; xxvii. 7. Plate xx.
Anne of St. Augustine, Found.
xxviii. 14; Plate ix.
Anne of St. Bartholomew, Yen.,
Life, ii. 2; xl. 18. Found, xxvi.
1; xxviii. 14; xxix. 9; xxxi. 16
note. Plate xxvi.
Anne of the Incarnation (de Ar-
bizo) Life, xiv. 12
Anne of the Incarnation (Tapia)
Life, xxxvi. 4; Found, iii. 1, 5, 7
17; xvii. 15; xix. 4; xxvii. 7
Anne of Jesus, Found, xv. 14; xvii.
13; xix. 4, 7; xxii. 24, note. Plate
xxiv.
Anne of St. John, Life, xxxvi. 23
713
714
INDEX.
Anne of the Mother of God. See
Palma.
Anne of Toledo, Found, xxviii. 3
Antisco, Juana de, Found, xxiii. 1
Antonio of the Holy Ghost, Life,
xxxvi. 5. Found, iii. 17; xiii. 2, 4
Antonio of Jesus. See Heredia.
Antonius a S. Joseph, Rel. i. note,
Found, v. 3, 13; xxii. 3, not", 19;
xxiii. 9; xxix. 14; xxv. 5; xxvii.
5, 7, 12; xxviii. 4; xxix. 23; xxx.
Antonius a Spiritu Sancto, Life,
xv. 15; xviii. 16; xx. 1, 2; xxvii.
3; xxviii. 5
Antony, St., of Padua, Life, xxii.
Aranda, de, Don. Gonzalo, Life,
xxxvi. 4, 18. Found, xv. 3
Arapz Antonio, Rel. vii. 5
Arbiol, Found, vi. 1
Arevalo, Found, iii. 5
Arias, de, Dona Isabel. See Isa
bel of the Cross.
Aridity, Life, xv. 15
Artiega, Dona Maria de, Found.
xix. 9
Art, The, of Serving God, Life,
xii. 2
Ascent of the Mount, Life, xxiii.
1*3
Ascent of Mount Carmel, Life,
xxxviii. 29; xxxix. 8. Rel. iii.
19; v. 2
Assumption, the, Life, xxxiii. 16;
xxxix. 37
Athanasius, St., Life, xxxix. 36
Attachments, Life, xi. 5; xxiii. 5
Augustine, St., Confessions of,
Life, ix. 8, 9; xiii. 4; xl. 10. Rel.
ix. 12
Augustinians, the, of Medina del
Campo, Found, iii. 5
Augustin of Vitoria, Found, xxix.
8
Austerities of the friars of Du-
ruelo, Found, xiv. 6; of the nuns
of Toledo, xv. 6
Avila, Life, xxxvi. 14. Found, iii.
2
Avila, Alonso de, of Toledo,
Found, xv. 6, 7
Avila, Alonso de, Found, xxvii. 7
Avila, Ana. See Anne of St. John.
Avila, Cristobal, de, Found, iii.
1, 4, 5, 7
Avila, Gonsalvo, Rel. vii. 5
Avila, de Juan, Ven., Life, xl. in
/m*, #*/. vii. 8, 9
Avila, Julian of, Lt/<?, xvi. 12;
xxxvi. 4, 5, 25. Found, iii. 2; x.
4; xiii. 2, 4; xvii. 15; xix. 7; xxi.
4, 5; xxiv. 3, 8; xxv. 7; xxvii. 3,
4, 7; xxx. 12
Avila, Luisa de, Found, xxvii. 1
Avila, Dona Quiteria, Found, xix
Balmaseda, Christoval de, Found.
xxx. 14
Baltasar of Jesus, Fra., Found.
xvii. 13, 14; xxiv. 1, note; xxviii.
24; xxix. 24.
Banes, Fra. Dominic, Life, v. 20;
xvi. 10, 12; xx. 22, 30; xxix. 6,
16; xxxi. 6; xxxvi. 15; xxxviii.
15; xxxix. 4. Rel. vii. 9, 11, 13,
16; xi. 7. Found, iii. 4, 6, 7, 17,
note; viii. 3, 4; ix. 3; xi. 3; xvii.
12, 15; xix. 9; xx. 1
Barbara of the Holy Ghost,
Found, xxvii. 7
Barron Fra., Vincente, Life, v. 8;
vii. 26, 27; xix. 19; xxxiv. 8. Rel
vii. 11. Found, xv. 12
Basil, St., Monks of, Found. 12
Beatriz of Christ. See Veamonte
and Navarre.
Beatriz of the Conception, Plate
xv.
Beatriz of the Incarnation, Found.
xii. 1,2,3,4,6,9, 11, 12
Beatriz of Jesus, Found, xv. 17;
xxix. 9; xxx. 14. Plate xii.
Beatriz of St. Michael, Found.
xxii. 24
Beatriz of the Most Holy Sacra
ment, Found, xvii. 11
Beatriz of the Mother of God,
Found, xxvi. 3-16
Beginners, Life, vii. 16; xi. 13, 15-
17, 25; xii. 2; xiii. 9; xv. 19
Benedict, XIV., Pope, Life, xiv. 12
Benitez, Found, xxviii. 22, note.
Bernard, St., Life, xxii. 10; xxxvii.
2, note.
Betrothal of the Saint, Rel. ix. 8,
25
Birth, pride of, Found, xv. 15
Bishopric, a, Life, xl. 21
Blanca of Jesus Maria, Found.
xxvii. 12
Blessed, the joys of, Life, x. 3;
xxvii. 12
Blindness healed, Life, xxxix. 1
Body, the, shares the joy of the
soul, Life, xvii. 14; xviii. 15;
state in raptures, xx. 2, 4, 23
Bona, Cardinal, Found, vi. 1; viii.
7
Books, Life, iy. 2; ix. 6; xiii. 18;
xiv. 10; xxii. 3; xxiii. 13, 17;
xxvi. 6; xxx. 20; xxxi. 21. Rel.
i. 7; vii. 3
INDEX.
715
Borja, de, St. Francis. See
Francis.
Bouix, Marcel, Life, i. 3; xxiv. 5;
xxix. 16; xxxiv. 8, 12. Found.
xxiv. 2; xxv. 8; xxvii. 21: xxviii.
27
Bracamonte, Francisco Barros de,
Found, xxi. 2, note.
Brances, Dona Antonio de. See
Beatriz of the Most Holy Sac
rament.
Breviary, Correction of the,
Found, xxviii. 36, note.
Brief, the, sanctioning St.
Joseph's Life, xxxiii. 13, 15;
xxxiv. 2; xxx vi. 1; xxxix. 20.
Rel. ix. 27
Brizeno, Dona Maria, Life, ii. 12;
iii. 1. Plate iv.
Buencuchillo, Juan de, Found.
xxviii. 10
Bull, the Sabbatine, Life, xxxviii.
40
Bullon, Pedro, Found, xxiii. 3
Burgo, see Osma.
Burgos, Found, xxxi. 3, 18, 33, 41
Burgos, Archbishop of. See Vela.
Bustamante y San Martin, Dona
Juana, Found, xxx. 14
Camarasa, Marquis of, Found, x.
6
Caravaca, Found, xxiv. 2; xxvi. 1;
xxvii. 7
Cardenas, Fra Diego de, Found.
xxviii. 4
Cardona, de, Dona Catalina, Rel.
iii. 12. Found, xvii. 1, note;
xxviii. 7, 18-30; Plate xxi.
Cardona, Don Ramon de, Found.
xxviii. 18
Carlos, Don, Found, xxviii. 18
Carmel, the Order of, Rel. iii. 14;
v. 9; x.; our Lord's promise
to the nuns of, Found, xvi. 5.
Carrera, F. Francis, S.J., Found.
xxx. 9
Casilda, Dona, Found, x. 12, 14;
xi. 3, 4, 6, 7, 8; xii. 1; xv. 4
Casilda of the Holy Angel, Found.
xxxi. 7, note.
Cassian, Rel. v. 11
Castilla, Don Juan de, Found, xxx.
7
Castillo, Ferdinand, Rel. vii. 13
Castillo, Hernando del, Found.
xvii. 15; xxviii. 4
Cassanza, Bartholomew, Found.
xv. 4; xxviii. 18
Castro, Eleanora, Life, xxiv. 4
Castro, de, Pedro, Prologue to
Life.
Catalina, Dona, Found, xxxi. 9, 12
Catherine, St., of Siena, Life, xxii.
10. Found, xix. 9
Catherine of the Assumption,
Found, xxvii. 7; xxxi. 7, note.
16 note.
Catherine of Christ, Found, xxx.
4, 12; Plate xxiii.
Catherine of the Holy Ghost,
Found, xxx. 4
Catherine of Jesus. See Godinez.
Cazalla, Agostino, Life, xvi. 12
Censoriousness, Life, xxxi. 19
Cepeda, de, Alonso Sanchez, Life.
i. 1; ii. 1, 3, 5, 7, 9; iii. 9; v. 5, 6,
15, 17; vii. 16, 20, 22-25; xxxviii.
1
Cepeda, Diego, Life, xxxvi. 25.
Cepeda, Francisco, Life, xxxvi. 23
Cepeda, Francisco Alvarez, Life,
i. 4
Cepeda, de, Don Lorenzo, Life,
xvi. 12; xxxii. 16; xxxiii. 13;
xxxiv. 2. Rel. iii. 11; ix. 11; XL
7. Found, xxv. 3, 8; xxvi. 1,
n.ote ; xxvii. 9, 18, note, 21, note.
Cepeda, de, Maria, Life, i. 3; ii. 4,
iv. 6; vi. 3; xxxiv. 24, 25
Cepeda, de, Pedro Sanchez, Life,
iii. 5; xxiii. 7
Cepeda, de, Rodrigo, Life, i. 4
Cerda, de la, Dona Luisa, Life,
xxxiv. 1, 4; xxxv. 6; xxxviii. 5;
xxxix. 11. Rel. ii. Found, ix. 2,
4, 5; x. 2; xv. 3, 10, 13; xxv. 6
Christ, Life, iii. 8; iv. 10; ix. 1, 7;
x. 1; xi. 8, 13, 16; xii. 3; xiii. 17,
20, 31; xxii. 2, 4, 19, 21; xxvii. 3,
15; xxviii. 2, 4, 7; xxix. 2; xxxii.
14; xxxvii. 4, 5; xl. 3. Rel. iv. 6;
Found. Pro. 4; i. 2; ii. 3
Ceremonies, the, of the Church,
Life, xxxi. 4; xxxiii. 6
Charles, St., Found, xxiv. 1
Charles V., Found, xxiii. 1
Chaves, Diego, Rel. vii. 11
Cheerfulness, Life, xii. 1
Cherubim, Life, xxix. 16
Cistercian nun's delusions, a,
Found, vi. 15
Clare, St., Life, xxxiii. 15
Cloud, Life, xx. 2, 3
Cobas, Don Francisco de los,
Found, x. 6
Comforts, Life, xxxiv. 4
Communion, Life, xvi. 3-10; xviii.
10-18; xxx. 16; xxxvii. 24; xxxix.
31. Rel. iv. 5; ix. 13, 20; delu
sive longing for. Found, vi. 12,
14, 16, 18; vi. 20, 25
Complaint of the Saint, Life,
xxxvii. 13
716
INDEX.
Conception, hospital of the, in
Burgos, Found, xxxi. 26
Confession, Life, v. 17. Rel. v. 11
Confessors, Life, iv. 8, 13; v. 6, 20;
vi. 6; viii. 15; xx. 23; xxiii. 19;
xxvi. 5; xxx. 15; xxxiii. 4, 5;
xxxv ii. 6. /^/. i. 9; vii. 5, 11, 12,
13
Confidence in God, Found, iv. 4;
xxvii. 11
Consecration, power of the words
of, Life, xxxvii. 30
Consolations, Life, xi. 21; xxii. 15
Constance of the Cross, Found.
xxviii. 14
Constitutions, the, Found, iii. 17;
ix. 4; xvii. 3; xviii. 9; xxii. 21;
xxiii. 13
Contemplation, Life, xxii. 1, 22,
23
Contradiction, Life, xxviii. 24;
xxx. 6
Conversation, worldly, Life, ii. 6;
vii. 10, 12; spiritual, xxxiv. 20
Conversions, Life, v. 12; xxxix. 5
Cordova, Found, xxiv. 7
Cordula, St., Found xviii. 9
Coria, Found, xxviii. 4
Council of Trent, Found, ix. 3;
x. 1 ; xxiv. 9
Counsels, keeping of evangelical,
Life, xxxv. 2
Courage, Life, viii. 10; x. 8; xiii.
3; xxxi. 19
Covarrubias, Don Diego de,
Found, xxi. 2, note, 31
Covarrubias, Dona Beatriz,
Found, xxxi. 45, note.
Covetousness, Life, xxxii. 14
Cowardice, spiritual, Life, xiii. 6
Creator, the, Life, ix. 9
Crosses, Life, xi. 8; xvi. 9
Cross, the way of the, Life, xi. 8;
xv. 17, 21; xxvii. 13
Crucified, the soul, Life, xx. 14
Crucifix, the miraculous, of Bur
gos, Found, xxxi. 18
Crux, Beatriz de la, Life, xxxvi.
25
Cuevas, Francisco de, Found.
xxxi. 26
Cuevas, Juan, Rel. vii. 13. Found.
xxix. 24
Cyrenean, the, Life, xxvii. 14
Dangers of Melancholy, Found.
vii. 4
David, King, Life, xvi. 5; xx. 13,
32. Found, xxix. 9
Davila, Alonso Alvarez, Life,
xxxvi. 25
Davila, Catalina, Life, xxvii. 18
Daza, Caspar, Life, xvi. 12; xxiii.
6, 16; xxxii. 21, xxxvi. 4, 5, 8
Deaths, peaceful, Found, xvi. 5, 6;
xxix. 9
Delusions, Life, xxii. 3; xxv. 3, 11;
xxix. 6. Found, vi. 11; viii. 7, 9
Desires, good, Life, xiii. 8; xxi. 9.
/?£/. xi. 5
Desolation, spiritual, Life, xxx. 10
Detachment, Life, xi. 2, 16; xv. 17,
18; xviii. 8; xx. 10; xxxi. 22;
xxxiv. 19; xxxvii. 7. Rel. ii. 5;
iv. 3; ix. 11
Detraction, Life, vi. 4; vii. 3. Rel.
ii. 4
Detractors, Lt'/*, xi. 11
Devotion, sweetness in, Life, ix.
10, 11; xi. 21; xxviii. 10; true,
Found. \i. 23
Devotions, overstrained, Life, iii.
2; vi 9; xiii. 24
Diaz, Maria, Life, xxvii. 18
Die, to, or suffer, Life, xl. 27
Diego de San Matia, Life, xxxviii.
<0
Diego of the Trinity, Found, xxix.
24
Direction, Life, viii. 15, 16; xiii.
4, 25; xxxviii. 16
Directors, Life, xiii. 21/24, 26, 28,
29; xxiii. 14; xxxiv. 15; xxxix.
35; xl. 12. Rel. vii. 18
Discouragements, Life, xi. 15;
xix. 6; xxxi. 21
Discretion, Life. xi. 23; xiii. 2, 8.
Found, xviii. 6, 8, 12
Distractions, Life, xv. 10; xxx. 19;
xxxv. 3
Distrust of self, Life, viii. 18; ix.
3; xix. 20
Domingo, Ana de Santo, Found.
iii. 1
Dominic, St., Found, xix. 9
Dominic of Jesus, Maria, Plate
xxvii.
Dominicans, the, help St. Teresa,
Life, v. 8. Rel. vii. 11-14. Found.
xxii. 3, note; xxiii. 1, 9
Dominion, true, Life, xl. 21
Doria. See Nicholas of Jesus
Maria.
Dove-cotes of Our Lady, Found.
iv. 5
Dreaminess, spiritual, Found, vi.
I, 2, 5, 6, 18
Duruelo, Found, xii. 3; xiv. 5, 6,
11
Eboli, Princess of, Found, xvii. 1,
II, 14; xviii. 15; xxviii. 24; Plate
xiii.
Ecija, Rel. vi. 3
INDEX.
717
Ecstasy, Life, xx. 1, 2, 9; xxiv. 7
Elevation of the Spirit, Life, xviii.
8
Elena of Jesus, Found, xxxi. 45,
note.
EHas, the prophet, Found, xxvi.
10; xxviii. 17
Eliseus. See Gratian, Jerome.
Eliseus of the Mother of God,
Fra, Found, xxx. 6
Elizabeth of St. Francis, Found.
xxii. 24
Elvira of San Angelo, Found.
xxviii. 14
Enclosure, Life, vii. 5. Found.
xxxi. 42
Envy, Life, xxxix. 19; holy,
Found, i. 6
Endowments, Life, xxxv. 4, 5;
xxxvi. 19; xxxix. 20
Ervias, • Augustin de, Found.
xx^ii. 7, 10, 31
Espousals, Rel. iii. 20; ix. 8, 25
Esteban, Alfonso, Found, iii. 5
Eugenius IV., Pope, Life, xxxiii.
12
Exorcisms, Life, xxix. 4
Experience, Life, xiv. 10, 11
Faber, Father, Life, vi. 9
Faith, the, Life, xix. 13; xxv. 16
Favour, popular, Found, xxvii. 20
Fear, Life, xv. 22; xxv. 27; xxvi.
1
Fernandez (Hernandez) Gre-
gorio, Life, xxxii. 16, 18; xxxiv.
1 ; xxxviii. 34
Fernandez, Pedro, Found, xvii.
15; xix. 6, 7; xxi. 1; xxii. 3, note;
xxiv. 2; xxv. 5; xxviii. 5, 26;
xxix. 24
Ferrer, St. Vincent. Life, xx. 31
Flight of the Spirit, Life, xx. 4,
32. Rel. viii. 11
Foundations, history of the,
Found. Pro. 2, 4, 6; iv. 1, 2;
xxvi. 21; xxvii. 9, 14, 17, 18, 19;
xxix. 19
Founders of religious Orders,
Life, xxxii. 17. Found, iv. 6;
xiv. 3, 4
Frances of the Cross, Found.
xxvii. 1, 2, 3, 7
Frances of St. Joseph, Found.
xxvii. 1, 2, 3, 7
Frances of the Mother of God,
Found, xxvii. 1, 2, 3, 7
Francis, St., Life, xxii. 10
Francis, St., de Borja, Life, xxiii.
3; xxiv. 4; xxv. 2; xxxiii. 9;
xxxix. 4. Rel. vii. 5, 9, 11, 13,
16; viii. 6; xi. 7; Plate vi.
Francis a Sancta Maria, Rel. i.
fzote; Found, xxx. 8
Franciscus a St. Thomas, Life,
xii. 5; xv. 15; xvi. 1
Franco, Alonso, Found, xv. 17
Friendship, spiritual advantages
of, Life, vii. 33-37; xv. 8; xxiv.
6, 8; xxx. 6; Rel. i. 16
Friendship, worldly, Life, ii. 4; v.
9; xxi. 1
Fuente, F. Matthew de la, hermit
of Tardon, Found, xvii. 5, 7
Fuente, Don Vincente de la, Life,
i 3; ii. 8; xx. 1; xxv. 15; xxviii.
20; xxix. 16; xxxiv. 12; xxxv. 1;
xl. 18; Rel. i. 4; ix. 4, 6, 24;
Found, ii. 1, 2; iii. 2, 5, )6; iv. 7;
v. 3; vi. 22; vii. 1, note; xix. 10;
xxi. 9; xxii. 12, 19; xxiii. 2, 9;
xxiv. 9; xxv. 8; xxvii. 7, 18, 21;
xxviii. 27, 36; xxix. 24
Gabriel, St., Archangel, Life,
xxvii. 5
Gabriel of the Assumption, Fra,
Found, xvii. 15; xxviii. 10, 15;
xxix 24
Gallo, Fernando, Found, xi. 1
Gambler, story of a, Found, xvi.
7, 8
Garcia de Toledo, Life, xi. 12;
xvi. 10, 12; xxii. 10; xxxi. 6;
xxxiv. 8; xxxix. 4; xl. 32. Rel.
ii. 13; Found. Pro. 2. xxvii. 21
Garden, the prayer in the, Life,
ix. 5
Gaytan, Don Antonio, Found.
xvii. 15; xxi. 4, 5; xxiv. 3, 11;
xxvii. 3, 4, 7
Generosity of God, Found, ii. 7
German of St. Mathias, Fra,
Found, xix. 6; xxviii. 3
Gifts of God, the, Life, x. 4, 7, 8;
xvii. 7; xxvi. 5; xxxiv. 14, 21;
xxxix 12
God, Lifax. 1; xi. 19; xiii. 13, 15;
xviii. 5; xxxvi. 31; xl. 13, 14.
Rel. iv. 6
Godinez, Dona Catalina, of Veas,
Found, xxii. 4, 13
Godinez, Dona Catalina, Found.
xxii. 4, 6, 10, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16,
18, 20; xxiv. 3; xxxi. 16, note.
Gomez, Ana. See Anne of the
Angels.
Gomez, Ruy, de Silva, Found.
xvii. 1, 3, 10, 11, 12, 14; xxviii.
10, 18, 20, 24; xxix. 24; Plate
xiii.
Gongalez, Alonso, (Gonzalez);
Found, ii. 2; xiii. 6
Gonzalez, Gil. Rel. vii. 5. Found.
xviii. 1
718
INDEX.
Grace, Life, viii. 13; xi. 18; xxxiv.
12; Rel. iii. 13
Grasa, de, Fra Raimundo, Found.
ii. 1
Gratian, Jerome, Life, ii. 2; xviii.
20; xxviii. 4; Rel. vi. 1; vii. 5,
8, 11; ix. 7, 21, 23, 26, sqq. Found.
ii. 6; viii. 6; xvii. 5; xxiii. 1, 2,
4, 5, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13; xxiv. 1,
note, 2; xxv. 8; xxvi. 10, 11, 12;
xxvii. 5-23; xxviii. 4, 21; xxix.
6, note, 24; xxx. 4, 12, 14; xxxi.
10, note. 14, 15, 16, 17, 19, 20,
24, 25, 26, 29, 31, 43; Plate xviii.
Gregory IX., Pope, Life, xxv. 2
Gregory XIII., Pope, Found.
xxiv. 1, 2; xxvii. 18; xxix. 24
Grenada, Luis de, Life, xxvi. 6;
xxviii. 20; xxx. 2; xxxix. 21;
Found, xxviii. 36
Guadalajara, Diego de, Found.
xxviii. 38
Guiomar of Jesus, Found, xxi. 3
Gutierrez, Juan, Rel. vii. 13;
xxviii. 3, 4
Gutierrez, Martin, S.J., Rel iii. 12;
iv. 3; vii. 5; Found, xviiii. 1,
note.
Gutierrez, Nicholas, Found, xix.
2,8
Guzman, Aldonza, Life, xxxvi. 1
Guzman, de, y Barrientos, Don
Martin, Life, ii. 4; iii. 4; xxxiv.
24
Hardships of the religious life,
Life, xiii. 30
Health, Life, vi. 3-8; xi. 23; xiii.
9; xx. 29; xxxvi. 9, 31; xl. 27;
Rel. i. 26; vii. 22
Heaven, Queen of, Life, xix. 9;
xxxiii. 16; xxxviii. 8
Hell, Life, xi. 6; xxx. 14; xxxii.
1, 7, 10
Heredia, Fra Antonio de, Found
iii. 4, 7, 8, 15, 16; x. 4; xiii. 1, 4;
xiv. 2, 3, 5, 8, 9, 11; xvii. 13, 14;
xix. 7; xxiii. 7; xxiv. 1; xxviii. 4,
TO, 15, 36; xxix. 24, note; Plate
xi.
Heretics, Life, vii. 8; xiii. 14; xv.
8; xxxii. 9; xl. 9; Rel. i. 22
Hernandez, Paul, S.J., ./?<>/. vii. 5;
Found, xv. 2, 3; xxvii. 18
Herrera, Dona Maria de, Found.
iii. 4, 9
Herrera, the licentiate, Found.
xxi. 9
Hiera, Dona Catalina, Found, xv.
14
Hiera, Dona Juana. See Juana of
the Holy Ghost.
Hilarion, St., Life, xxvii. 2
Honorius III., Pope, Life, xxxviii.
40
Host, Sacred, Rel. iii. 7, 19; iv. 5;
ix. 13, 20
Hugo, Cardinal of Santa Sabina,
Life, xxxvi. 27
Humanity, the Sacred, Life, xii.
3; xxii. 1, 3, 9, 11; xxiii. 18;
xxiv. 2; xxviii. 4; xxix. 4;
xxxviii. 22
Humility, Life, vii. 37; x. 4; xii. 5,
11; xiii. 4; xv. 13; xix. 2, 15-23;
xx. 38; xxii. 16; xxx. 12; xx.-cix.
21-23
Hyprccrisy, Life, vii. 2. Rel. i. 18
Hysteria, Life, xxix. 11, 12
Ibanez, Pedro, Life, x. 10, note;
xvi. 10; xxxii. 19, 21; xxxiii. 5. 7;
xxxiv. 8, 16; xxxv. 57; xxxvi.
23; xxxviii. 15, 16; xxxix. 14;
Rel ii.; vii. 11
Ignatius, St., Found, iii. 17
Illness, Life, iv. 6; v. 4, 14
Images, Life, vii. 3; ix. 1-3, 7
Imagination, Life, ix. 6; xvii. 9
Imitation of the Saints, Life, xiii.
5-8
Immaculate Conception, Life, vi.
Imperfections, Life, xiv. 14;
Found, xviii. 11
Impetuosities, Life, xxix. 10, 11,
13, 15; xxxiii. 9
Incarnation, Monastery of, Life,
iv. 1; xix. 12; xxi. 16; xxxii. 12,
13; xxxiii. 2, 3; xxxv. 8, 10;
xxxvi. 1, 11; Found, ii. 1; iii. 2;
xix. 6; xxi. 1, 9
Indisposition, Life, xi. 23
Inebriation, spiritual, Life, xvi. 3;
xxviii. 14
Inez of the Cross, Found, xxxi.
16, note.
Inez of Jesus. See Agnes of
Jesus.
Inez de Tapia. See Agnes of
Jesus.
Ingratitude, Life, xiv. 16; xxiv. 6
Innocent IV., Pope, Life, xxxvi.
27; xxxviii. 40
Inquisition, the, Life, xxxiii. 6
Inspiratons, Life, iv. 3
Intentions, good, Life, v. 12
Isabel of the Cross, Found, iii. 2
Isabel of the Angels, Found, xix.
4
Isabel of St. Dominic, Life, xx.
22; xxxvi. 25; xxxviii. 41;
Found, xv. 3, 6; xvii. 4, 14; xxi.
9; xxiii. 3
INDEX.
719
Isabel of St. Francis, Found, xxiv.
3
Isabel of St. Jerome, Found, xvii.
13; xxii. 24; xxiv. 3
Isabel of Jesus, Rel. iv. 1 ; Found.
xxi. 3, 7; xxix. 9, 23; xxx. 8;
xxxi. 10, note.
Isabel of St. Joseph, Found, xv. 14
Isabel of St. Paul, Life, xxxvi. 23;
Found, xv. 3; xvii. 4; xxi. 3
Isabel of St. Peter, Found, xvii. 14
Isabel of the Trinity, Found, xxxi.
7, note.
James, St., Knights of, in Veas,
Found, xxii. 3, note. 13
Jerome, St., Life, iii. 8; xi. 17;
xxxviii. 2
Jerome of the Mother of God.
See Gratian.
Jeronyma of Jesus, Found, iii. 13;
xix. 4
Jewel, Life, xviii. 6
Jezebel, Found, xxvii. 15
Jimena, Dona Ana de, Found, xxi.
2, note, 3, 4
Jimena, Don Andres de, Found.
xxi. 2, note, 4
Job, patience of, Life, v. 16; trial
of, xxx. 12
John of the Cross, St., Life, xiii.
21; xv. 20; xvi. 1, 12; xviii. 20;
xx. 9, 16; xxii. 11; xxv. 1, 22,
25; xxvi. 5; xxvii. 4, 12; xxviii.
3, 14; xxix. 13; xxxviii. 29;
xxxix. 8; xl. 10, 12; Rel. \\\. 19;
v. 2, 5; viii. 22; Found, iii. 4, 7,
16, 17; ix. 3; x. 3, 4; xiii. 1, 5;
xiv. 1, 2, 5; xix. 6; xxi. 4; xxiv.
1; xxvii. 7; xxviii. 1, note; xxix.
24; Plate xvii.
Joseph, St., Life, v. 12; vi. 9; xxx.
8; xxxiii. 14
Joseph, St., the monastery of,
Life, x. 11; xiv. 12; xxxii. 22;
xxxiii. 18; xxxv. 13; xxxvi. 4,
14, 25; xxxviii.. 15; xxxix. 14.
Rel. x. 1; Found. Pro. 2; i. 1, 2,
3, 4; ii. 1; xxxi. 46, 47
Joseph of Christ, Fra, Found, xiv.
5, 6
Joys, Life, x. 3; xxvii. 13, 15
Juan, Don, of Austria, Found.
xxviii. 18, 26
Juan of Jesus, Fra, Found, xxiii.
3; xxviii. 4, note; xxix. 24
Juan de la Miseria. See Miseria.
Juan of the Mother of God,
Found, xxix. 24
Juana, Dona, sister of Philip II.,
Found, iii. 17
Juana of the Holy Ghost, Found.
xv. 14; xx. 12
Juana of St. Jerome, Found, xxvii.
Juana of Jesus, Found, xix. 4
Judas, temptation of, Life, xix. 15
Judgement, day of, Life, xl. 16
Julian of Avila. See Avila.
Kindred, detachment from, Life,
xxxi. 22; Rel. ix. 11
Kings, Life, xxi. 2, 4; xxxvii. 8
Labourer, story of a, Life, xxxviii.
26
Lady, service done to our, Found.
x. 5
Lady, Our, of Anguish, Rel. ix. 22
Lady, Our, of Charity, Life, i. 7
Lady, Our, of . Grace, (Augus-
tinian Convent), Life. ii. 8
Laptaza, Don Pedro, Found, x. 4
Laredo, de, Bernadino, Life, xxiii.
13
Laxity in religious houses, Life,
vii. 6, 9; Found, xxvii. 9; xxix.
26
Layz, Teresa de, Found, xx. 2, 4,
5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 12
Learning, Life, xii. 6; xiii. 24-26;
xiv. 9; xv. 12
Leiva, Doiia Isabel de, Found.
xiv. 8
Leon, Don Juan de, Found, xxviii.
27
Leon, Luis de, Found, xxvii. 18
Leonor of St. Gabriel, Found.
xxii. 24; xxiv. 3
Lie, a, Satan is, Life, xxv. 26; the
saint's hatred of, Life, xxviii. 6;
Found. Pro. 3
Life, the, of the Saint, Life,m x. 11.
weariness of, xxi. 8; the illumi
native, xxii. 1
Light of visions, Life, xxviii. 7;
xxxviii. 3
Locutions, Life, xviii. 18; xix. 13,
14; xxiv. 7; xxv. 2, 3, 5, 8, 12,
13, 17, 22; xxvi. 3, 6; xxvii. 10',
xxix. 7; xxx. 17; xxxi. 15; xxxii.
17; xxxiii. 10, 14; xxxv. 7, 9;
xxxvi. 20; xxxviii. 4, 19, 21;
xxxix. 29, 34; xl. 1, 21, 24; Rel.
iii, 1 passim; Rel. iv. 4, 5, 6;
Rel. ix. 1 passim; Found. Pro. 2;
i. 7; ix. 3; x. 3; xv. 16; xvi. 5;
xvii. 3; xxv. 4; xxviii. 13; xxix.
6, 14; xxx. 9; xxxi. 11, 25, 33, 41
Longings for the conversion of
sinners, Found, i. 5, ii. 3
Lord, Our, accounted mad, Lifef
xxvii. 15
Louise of Aragon. See Louise of
the Blessed Sacrament.
720
INDEX.
Louise of the Blessed Sacrament,
Plate xxii.
Love, Life, ix. 7; xi. 1, 20; xv. 6;
xxii. 21; xxvii. 12; xxix. 10, 11;
xxx. 25
Loyalty, worldly, Life, v. 9
Luclalf of Saxony, Lt'/£, xxxviii.
Luis of the Assumption, Life, xl.
18
Luis of Jesus, Fra, (Don Enri
que), Found, xiv. 8
Lttkewarmness, Life, vii. 1
Lunar, Rel. vii. 13
Lutherans, Life, xxxii. 9; Rel. ii.
14; v. 5; Found, xviii. 4
Machuca, Dona Catalina de,
Found, xvi. 12 .
Madness, spiritual, Life, xvi. 1-8;
xxvii. 15
Madrid, Alonso de, Life, xii. 1
Magdalen of the Cross, Life,
xxiii. 2
Magdalen, St. Mary, Life, ix. 2;
xxi. 9; xxii. 19; Rel. viii. 6; ix.
Malagon, 7??/. iii. 2; Found, ix. 5
Maidonado, Alonso, Found, i. 6
Maldonado, Fra Fernando,
Found, xxviii. 3
Mancera, Found, xiv. 8
Mai.cio, F., Rel. ii. 18
Manrique, Don Alonso de Santo
bcmingo, Found, xxxi. 9
Manrique, Dona Elvira, Found.
xxix. 12
Manrique, Don Luis, Found.
xx\iii. 4
Manrique, Don Pedro, Found, xv.
4-12
Manso, Don Pedro, Found, xv. 4;
xxxi. 19, note, 22, note, 37, 39,
40, 41
Mantles of the religious, Life,
xxxi. 27
Maria Bautista (Ocampo), Life,
xx. 5; xxxii. 13; xxxvi. 25;
xxxix. 14; Found, i. 2, 3; iii. 2,
7; xxix. 1, 5
Maria de la Crux, Life, xxxvi. 5
Maria of Jesus, Life, xxxv. 1 ;
xxxvi. 29; Found, iii. 17; x. 2;
xxiii. 3; xxx. 4
Maria of the Martyrs, Found.
xxviii. 14
Mariano of St. Benedict, Fra,
Found, xvii. 5-14; xxiv. 9, 12;
xxviii. 4, 25; xxx. 4; Plate xiv.
Martin of the Cross, (Order of
St. Francis), Found, xv. 6, 7
Martin, Don Guzman y Barrien-
tos. See Guzman.
Martin, St., Found, xxxi. 10
Martinez, Found, xxiv. 2
Martyrdom, Life, i. 4
Martyrs, the, Life, xvi. 6
Mary and Martha, Lt/£, xvii. 6;
xxiii. 13; Af/. viii. 6
Mary of the Baptist, Found, xxxi.
16, note.
Mary of the Blessed Sacrament,
Found, xvii. 14; xviii. 3; xix. 5;
xx. 12
Mary of Christ, Found, xix. 4;
xxx. 4, 12
Mary of St. Francis, Life, xiv. 12.
Found, xv. 6; xix. 4
Mary of the Holy Ghost, Found.
xviii. 3; xxiv. 3; xxix. 9
Mary Isabel, Life, xxxvi. 23
Mary of St. Jerome, Found, xxx.
Mary of St. Joseph, (Davila),
Life, xxxvi. 5.
Mary of St. Joseph (Salazar),
Found, xxii. 24, note; xxiv. 3;
xxv. 6; xxvi. 15; xxviii. 14; xxx.
4; xxxi. 7, note; Plate xix.
Mary of the Visitation, Found.
xxii. 24, note.
Mascarenas, de, Dona Leonora,
Life, xxxv. 1; xxxvi. 29; Found.
iii. 17, note; xvii. 4, 5
Matanza, Hernando de, Found.
xxxi. 26, 40
Maurique, Doiia Maria, Found.
xxxi. 9
Medina, Bartholomew, Rel. vii.
11; xi. 7
Medina, Bias de, Found, iii. 13
Medina, Coeli, Duke of, Life,
xxxiv. 1
Medina del Campo, Rel. iii. 2.
Found, iii. 1, 8, 17; ix. 1; x. 3;
xvii. 13
Meditation, Life, iv. 11; viii. 9, 10;
xi. 7, 20; xiii. 19; xv. 20; Found.
v. 2, 3; vi. 7
Melancholy, Found, vi. 4, 9; vii.
3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 12; xxvii. 8, 9
Memory, Life, xvii. 5, 9, 11;
Found. Pro. 5; xx. 13
Mendoza, de, Don Alvaro, Life,
xx. 5; xxii. 10; xxxiii. 9, 16, 19;
xxxiv. 19; xxxvi. 1, 18; Found.
ii. 2, 4; iii. 7; x. 1; xiii. 6; xvii.
10; xxiii. 11; xxix. 1, 9, 22, 23;
xxxi. 2, 39, 47, 48
Mendoza, Ana de, y la Cerda.
See Eboli.
Mendoza, Don Bernadino, Found.
x. ], 2, 5
Mendoza, Diego Hurtado de,
Found, xvii. 1
INDEX.
721
Mendoza, Don Luis Hurtado de,
Pound, xxviii. 4
Mendoza, Dona Maria de, Found.
iii. 17; x. 6; xiii. 6
Mendoza, Don Pedro Gonzalez
de, round, xviii. 1, 3
Men, great, Life, xxxvii. 7
Meneses, Philip, Rcl. vii. 12
Mercenarians, Pound, xxviii. 23
Mercies of God, the, remem
brance of, Life, xv. 23
Michael, St., Life, xxvii. 2
Michael of St. Joseph, Fra, Found.
xxi. 2
Minims, Order of, Pound, xxxi. 12
Miracles, Life, xxxviii. 1; xxxix.
1 ; Pound, xix 9, note.
Misdirection, a, Life, xiii. 22
Miseria, Fra Juan de la, Found.
xxiv. 3; xxviii. 10 26
xxiv. 3; xxviii. 10, 26
Mitigation, the Bull of, Life,
xxxii. 12; xxxvi. 27, 28
Monasteries, courts in politeness,
Life, xxxvii. 17; not grand
buildings, Pound, xiv. 3
Monterey, Don Pedro de, Found.
xix. 9, 10
Moriz, Don Juan, Pound, xix. 2.
Mortification, Pound, xviii. 6, 10
Moya (Cuellar) Dona Francisca
de. See Frances of the Cross.
Moya, Dona Isabel de, Found.
xxix. 7
Moya, Roderigo de, (of Cara-
vaca), Pound, xxvii. 1
Munificence of God, Life, xviii.
5; xxii. 26
Munoz, licentiate, Found, xxvii. 1
Music, Rel. i. 12
Nativity of our Lady, Rcl. ix. 13
Nazianzen, Gregory, Fra., Found.
xxiv. 3; xxvi. 1 ; xxvii. 5, 6
Neatness, Life, ii. 2. Rel. ix. 13
Nicholas of St. Cyril, Fra.,
Found, xiv. 10
Nicholas of Jesus Maria, Fra.,
Found, xxiv. 3; xxix. 23, 24;
xxx. 4, 5, 6, 12; Plate xxii.
Novices in St. Joseph's, Life,
xxxix. 15
Novitiate of the Saint, Life, v. 1
Nuns, Life, v. 3; xxxviii. 37, 38;
Found, iii. 17; iv. 2, 5, 8; xv. 10;
xxvi. 2
Nunez, Vela, Life, i. 3
Obedience, Life, xviii. 10; xxiii.
19; xxxiii. 9; Rel. i. 9, 29; vii.
14; Found. Pro. 1; i. 2; iv. 2;
v. 6, 8, 14, 18, 21, 24; xvi. 3;
xviii. 12, 13, 14
Objects, natural, Life, ix. 6
Ocampo, de, Mary. See Maria
Bautista.
Office, the divine, Life, xxii. 19;
xxxi. 26
Olivares, Count of, Pound, xix. 9
Onez, Beatriz. See Beatriz of the
Incarnation.
Oratory, the Saint's, Life, xxiv.
1; xxv. 19
Order, vision of a certain, Life,
xl. 18, 19
Ordonez, Diego, Life, xxxvi. 23
Ordonez, Maria. See Mary Isa
bel.
Ordonez, S.J., Rel vii. 5
Organ, Life, xxxi. 24
Original sin, Rcl. viii. 17
Ormaneto, Nicholas, Monsignore,
Found, xxiii. 13; xxiv. 1, 2;
xxviii. 1, 3, 26
Orosco, Don Juan de, Found, xxi.
8
Orosco, Fra Pedro, Found, iii. 16
Ortega, Isabel. See Isabel of St.
Dominic.
Ortega, Juan, Life, xxxvi. 25
Ortiz, Diego, Found, xv. 3, 4
Osma, Found, xxx. 6
Osorno, Countess of, Rcl. iii. 16
Osuna, de, Francisco, Life, iv. 8
Otalora, Dona Catalina de, (of
Caravaca), Found, xxvii. 1, note,
2
Otayud, Don Lorenzo de, Found.
xiv. 9
Ovalle, de, Don Juan, Life, xxxi.
22; xxxiii. 13; xxxv. 14; xxxvi.
2, 4; Found, xx. 1
Pablo, Pedro, Found, xxv. 6
Padilla, Don Antonio de, Found.
x. 10; xv. 4
Padilla, Dona Casilda de. See
Casilda.
Padilla, Dona Luisa de, Found, x.
10, 12
Padranos, or Pradanos, de, Juan,
Life, xxii. 5; xxiii. 18; xxiv. 1,
5; xxvii. 4
Pain of raptures, Life, xx. 11, 19
Palafox, Found, i. 2; xxx. 1, 14;
Plate xxiii.
Palencia, Pel xi. 4; Found, xxix.
1, 8, 21, 23
Palma, Ana de la, Found, xvi. 1,
2; xxviii. 14
Pantoja, Fernando, Found, xxv. 8
Paradise of His delight, Life,
xxxv. 13
722
INDEX.
Pardo, Arias, Life, xxxiv. 1
"Passer Solitarius," Life, xx. 13:
Rel. viii. 22
Passion, the, Life, ix. 5; xiii. 19,
20; xxii. 8
Pastrana, Found, xvii. 11, 13, note,
15, note; xxiii. 8
Paterna, Convent at, Rel. ix. 14
Patience, Life, v. 3, 16; viii. 8
Paul, St., Life, xxi. 9; /te/. ix.
19, 21, 22
Pazos, Don Mauricio de, Found.
xxviii. 4
Peace, Life, ix. 7, 8
Peculium, Life, xx. 34
Pedro of the Angels, Found.
xxviii. 3
Pedro of the Apostles, Found.
xxviii. 26
Pedro of Jesus Maria, Found.
xxviii. 27
Pedro of the Purification, Found.
xxxi. 14, note.
Penance, Life, xxiv. 2; xxvii. 14.
Rel. i. 5; ii. 11; xi. 2
Pena, Isabel. See Isabel of St.
Paul.
Pentecost, Life, xxxviii. 11; Rel.
vi. 3; x. 1
Perfection, Life, xxi. 10; xxxv. 15;
xxxix. 21; Found, iv. 3; v. 10;
vii. 11
Persecution, Life, xix. 12; xxxiii.
5; xxxvi. 13
Perseverance in prayer, Life, viii.
5; xi. 6, 17; xiv. 17; xix. 7
Peso y Henao, Catalina, Life, i. 3
Peter, St., Rel. ix. 17
Peter, St., of Alcantara, Life,
xxvii. 4, 17-22; xxx. 5, 7, 20;
xxxii. 16; xxxv. 6; xxxvi. 1 and
note, 5, 20, 21; xxxviii. 41; xxxix.
14; xl. 12; Rel. i. vii. 6; Found.
vi. 20; xxviii. 19, 36; Plate vi.
Petronila of St. Andrew, (Sister),
Found, xvi. 5
Philip II., King, Rel. vii. 12;
Found, xxii. 3, note; xxvii. 5;
xxviii. 4; xxix. 24, 25; xxx. 1
Philip, St., Found, v. 3; xvii. 5,
note.
Philippus a SS. Trinitate, Life,
xv. 15; xviii. 18; xx. 1; xxv. 1;
xxviii. 3
Phoenix, the, Life, xxxix. 33
Pilgrims, Life, xxxviii. 8
Pillar, the, meditation on Christ
at, Life, xiii. 19, 31
Pincenza, Chapter of, Found.
xxvii. 18
Pimentel, Dona Maria, Found.
xix. 9
Pifia, (a hermit), Found, xxviii.
20, note.
Piux IV., Found, xxiii. 13
Pius V., Found, xxii. 3; xxiv. 1;
xxviii. 36
Pole, Cardinal, Found, xxiv. 1
Politeness, monasteries courts in,
Life, xxx vii. 17
Porras, a priest, Found, xxix. 8
Porraz, Diego, Found, xxi. 7
Poverty, Life, xi. 3; xxii. 17;
xxxv. 3; Rel. i. 10; ii. 2; Found.
x. 11; xv. 4, 15; xxvii. 11; xxxi.
43, 44
Prayer, mental, Life, vii. 19; viii.
11, 12; x. 3; xi. 12, 13, 20, 27;
xii. 3; xiii. 18; xv. 5; xix. 7;
xxii. 16; xxix. 9; xxxi. 9; xxxix.
8-10; Rel. i. 1; Found, iv. 3; v.
2, 18; xviii. 10
Preachers, Life, xvi. 12
Presence of G;9d, the, Life, xii.
4; xiv. 8; xviii. 20; xxvii. 6
Presentation of Our Lady, Rel.
ix. 2
Priests, Life, v. 9, 13; xxxi. 7;
xxxviii. 29; Rel. ix. 20
Prioress, the, Found, vii. 3, 7, 8,
9; viii. 6, 10; xviii. 6, 12; xix. 1
Profession, Life, iv. 4; Rel. vi. 3
Progress in raptures, Life, xxi. 11
Prophecies, Life, xxxiv. 23; Rel.
ii. 6, 17
Provincial, the, of the Carmeltes,
Life, xxxii. 16, 18; xxxiv. 2;
xxxv. 8; xxxvi. 12, 14, 15, 17, 23;
xxxviii. 34-36
Prudencio, steward of the bishop
of Palencia, Found, xxix. 9, 21
Purgatory, Life, xv. 11; xx. 17,
21; xxxv. 8; xxxviii. 41; xxxix.
6; Rel. vii. 2
Queen of Heaven, the, Life, xix. 9
euadra, Juan de la, Found, ii. 1
uesada, Dona Teresa de, Found.
iii. 2, xix. 6
Quiet, the prayer of, Life, iv. 9;
ix. 6; xiv. 1, 5, 7; xv. 3, 6, 7,
9, 15
Buiroga, Cardinal, Found, iii. 13
uiroga, Dona Elena de, Found.
iii. 13
Quiroga, Don Caspar de, Found.
xxi. 2
Quiroga, Dona Geronimo. See
Jeronyma of Jesus.
Ramirez, Alonso, Rel. iii. 1;
Found, xv. 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 15
Ramirez, Martin, Found, xv. 1, 3,
16. 17
INDEX.
723
Ransom of captives, Order of,
Found, xxi. 7
Rank, slavery of, Life, xxxiv. 6
Rapture, Life, xx. 1, 9, 11, 13, 23,
25, 29, 30; xxxviii. 8; Rel. i. 8,
15, 26; iv. 1; Found, vi. 1
Reading, spiritual, Life, i. 1; iv.
12, 13; viii. 14; xii. 10; xviii. 14;
Rel. i. 7
Recollection, prayer of, Lt'/<?, xiv.
2; /?*/. viii. 3
Recreation, Life, xi. 24; xiii. 1
Reflections, in prayer, Life, xv. 11
Reform, the Carmelite, Life,
xxxii. 13
Reinoso, Don Francis de, Found.
xxix. 8, 23
Reinoso, Don Jerome de, Found.
xxix. 7, 8, 14, 20; xxxi. 6
Relaxation of the Order, Life,
vii. 9
Religious, Life, xxvii. 16
Remedies for melancholy, Found.
vii. 5, 7
Resignation of the Saint, Life,
xxi. 6; Rel. i. 20
Revelations, . Life, xxxii. 19;
Found, viii. 1, 6
Ribera, Francis, Life, i. 4; v. 19,
20; xxiii. 18; xxxii. 1; xxxiii. 12;
xxxiv. 8; xxxvi. 2; xl. 18; Rel.
i. 17, 28; ii. 4, 6; iii. 3, 12; ix. 4;
Found, iii. 5, 7, 9, 13, 17; ix. 4;
x. 2; xviii. 1; xx. 6; xxi. 9; xxii.
14, 20, 24; xxv. 6; xxvii. 1; xxx.
7
Ribera, Pedro de, Found, xxx. 4,
12
Ripalda, Jerome, S.J., 7??/. vii. 5;
xi. 7; Found. Pro. 2; x. 8; xi.
1 ; xxvii. 21 ; xxix. 4
Roca, Isabel, Found, xxiii. 3
Roda, La., monastery of, Found.
xxviii. 17
Rojas, Juan de, Found, xxviii. 7
Rosary, the, of the Saint, Life,
xxix. 8
Roxas y Sandoval, Don Cristobal
de, Found, xxiv. 2, 9, 10, 12, 14;
xxiv. 9, 10, 12, 13; xxv. 11; xxix.
24; Plate xix.
Rubeo, Juan Battisto, (Rossi),
Life, xxxii. 16; xxxiv. 1; xxxvi.
23; Found, ii. 1, 2, 4, 5; xxvii.
18; xxviii. 1; Plate vii.
Ruiz, Ana Hernandez, Found.
xxviii. 10
Rule, the Carmelite, Life, xxxii.
12; xxxvi. 27, 30, 31; Found.
xviii. 6
Salazar, Fra Angel, Life, xxxii.
16; xxxiv. 1; xxxvi. 12 sqq.
xxxviii. 34; Found, ii. 2; xvii.
15; xix. 6; xxiv. 1; xxvii. 18;
xxviii. 6, 11, 14; xxix. 1, 24
Salazar, de, Caspar, S.J., Life,
xxxiii. 9, 11; xxxiv. 18; xxxv. 1;
xxxviii. 17; xxxix. 2; Rel. vii. 5;
Found, xxviii. 27
Salazar, Mencia, Life, xxxvi. 25
Salcedo, Ana de, Found, xxvii. 7
Salcedo, de, Don Francisco, Life,
xvi. 12; xxiii. 6, 11, 12; xxxii.
21; xxxvi. 1, 4, 18, 21; Rel. ii. 7
Salinas, Juan, Rel. vii. 13
Salinas, Canon of Palencia,
Found, xxix. 10, 20; xxxi. 18, 21,
22
Samaria, the woman of, Life, xxx
24
Sandoval, Dona Maria de, Found.
xxii. 4, 12, 20
Sandoval, Sancho Rodriguez de,
Found, xxii. 4, 12, note.
Sanchez, Maria, of Pedroza de
Campos, Found, xi. 1
San Lucar, Duke of, Found, xix. 9
Santander, Luis, Rel. vii. 5
Saojosa, Dona Francisca de. See
Frances of the Mother of God.
Satan, Life, iv. 14; vii. 2, 12, 35;
xiii. 5, 9, 26; xv. 16; xix. 8;
xxv. 26; xxvii. 4-8; xxviii. 15;
xxxi. 2, 10; Rel. i. 29
Scandal, Life, xxvii. 16
Schram, Dominic, Life, v. 6.
Found, v. 3
Scorn, signs of, Rel. xxix. 6
Sega, Philip, Monsignore, Found.
xxviii. 3, 4; xxix. 1, 24
Segovia, Found, xvii. 15, note;
xxi. 1, 4, 6; xxx. 14
Self-contempt, Life, xxxi. 23
Self-denial, Life, xxxi. 25
Self-knowledge, Life, xiii. 23
Self-love, Life, xi. 2, 4, 5; Found.
v. 4; vi. 19
Self-respect, Life, xxi. 12; xxxi.
24
Senses, the suspension of the,
Life, xviii. 19
Sensitiveness, Life, xi. 4
Sermons, Life, viii. 17; xvi. 12
Sevilla, Juan, Ven., Life, ii. 8
Seville, Archbishop of. See
Roxas y Sandoval.
Seville, Rel. vi. 3; ix. 8; Found.
xxiv. 2, 3, 10; xxv. 1, note, 5, 6
Shame, fruits of, Life, v. 9
Sickness of the Saint, Life, xxx. 9
Sickness, as penance, Life, xxiv.
2
724
INDEX.
Sight restored by prayer of the
^'aint, Life, xxxviii. 1
Silicio, Don Juan Martinez,
Found, xv. 4
Sincerity of the Saint, Rel i. 28
Sin, Life, viii. 14; xiii. 14; xxx. 20;
xxxix. 3; xl. 15; Rel. iii. 13
Sins, the divulgng of, Life, x. 10
Society of Jesus, the, Life, v. 8;
xxiii. 3, 19; xxxviii. 18-39;
Found, xxxi. 21
Soldoratus, Found, iii. 17
Solitude, Life, i. 6; vi. 5; Rel. i. 6;
Found, v. 5, 15
Sorcery, Life, v. 10
Soria, monastery in, Found, xxx.
1, 7,9
Soto y Salazar, Francisco, Rel.
vii. 8
Soul, our own, Life, xiii. 13, 14;
likened to a bird, xviii. 13; xix.
22; to a garden, xl. 10; xiv. 13;
in the prayer of quiet, xv. 1;
growth of, xv. 20; powers of,
x\i. 1, 4; beside itself, xvi. 1-5;
cri.cirtxion of, xx. 14; detach
ment of, xx. 33; strengthened
in raptures, xxi. 14; effects of
visions in, xxvii. 11; helpless
ness of, without God, xxxvii. 11
Spark, Life, xv. 2, 6, 7, 9, 11
Spinning, Life, x. 11
Spirit, liberty of, Life, xi. 25;
Found, v. 7; vi. 17; poverty of,
Life, xviii. 8; Rel. viii. 11
Spirits, evil, Life, xxv. 25; xxxi. 4
Spirituality, influence of bodily
health on, Life, xi. 24
Sponge, Rel. iii. 9; ix. 10
Stephany of the Apostles, Found.
xi. 1, note.
Stevano, Ambrosi, Found, xxix. 24
Suarez, Found, xxviii. 4
Suarez, Isabel, Found, xv. 14
Suarez, Juan, S.J., Life, xxxviii.
17; Rel. vii. 5; Found, xviii. 1
Suarez, Juana, Life, iii. 2; iv. 1
Suffer, to, or to die, Life, xl. 27
Suffering of the Saint, Life, iv. 7;
v. 4, 14; vi. 1; xi. 19; xx. 16; xl. ;
27; the aim of a Carmelite, j
Found, xxviii. 37
Sun, Rel. ix. 20
Supper, Rel. iv. 6
Sweetness, spiritual, Life, ix. 11;
xi. 21; xx. 19; xxiv. 1
Tabera, Cardinal, Life, xxxiv. 1
Tamayo, Found, xxx. 12, 17
Tapeta, Don Gomez, Found.
xxvii. 5
Tapia, Dona Maria de, Found.
xxi. 9
Tardon, hermits of, Found, xvii.
7
Tauste, Dona Francisca de. See
Frances of St. Joseph.
Tears, gift of, Life, iv. 8; ix. 1;
xiv. 5; xix. 1, 2, 10; xxix. 11;
Rel. viii. 15
Tello, Giron, Don Gomez, Found.
xv. 4
Temptation, power of, Life, xxx.
Tenderness of soul, Life, x. 2
Teresa, S., desires martyrdom,
Life, i. 4; placed in a monastery
ii, 8, unwilling to become a nun,
ii. 10; becomes more fervent,
iii. 2; is resolved to follow her
vocation, iii. 6; first fervours
of, iv. 2; failure of health, iv.
6; God sends her an illness, v.
4; suffers grieviously, vi. 1;
afraid of prayer, vi. 5; leads
her father to prayer, vii. 16;
present at her father's death,
vii. 22; perseveres in prayer,
viii. 2; found it hard to pray,
viii. 10; delights in sei mons,
viii. 17; devout to the Mag
dalene, ix. 2; never doubted of
God's mercy, ix. 8; depreciates
herself, x. 9; willing to have
her sins divulged, x. 10; always
sought for light, x. 13; com
plains of her memory, xi. 9;
unable to explain the state of
her soul, xii. 10; supernaturally
enlightened, xii. 11; read books
on prayer to no purpose, xiv.
10; writes with many hin
drances, xiv. 12; xl. 32; bewails
her ingratitude, xiv. 16; scarcely
understood a word of Latin, xv.
12; understands her state in the
prayer of imperfect union, xvi.
3; and describes it, xvi. 6; be
wails her unwortHness, xviii.
6; writes under obedience, xviii.
10; confesses ignorance, xviii.
20; abandons her _ prayers
for a time, xix. 8; evil spoken
of, xix. 12; misled by false
humility, xix. 23; prays to be
delivered from raptures, xx. 5;
6; never cared for money, xx.
34; gives up her whole being
to God, xxi. 7; unable to learn
from books, xxii. 3; afraid of
delusions, xxiii. 3; is directed
by a layman, xxiii. 10; severe
to herself, xxiv. 2; her first
ecstasy, xxiv. 6; had no visions
before the prayer of union, xxv.
INDEX.
725
Teresa, S. (Con.)
14; told by her confessor that
she was deluded by Satan, xxv.
18; not afraid of Satan, xxv. 27;
spoken against, xxvi. 3; prays
to be led by a different spiritual
way, xxv. 20; xxvii. 3; Rel. vii.
7, troubles of, because of vis
ions, Life, xxvii. 4, xx\ iii. 6; her
defence when told that her vi
sions were false, xxviii. 18, 19;
afraid nobody would hear her
confession, xxviii. 20; harslny
judged by her directors, xxviii.
23; would not exchange her
visions for all the pleasures of
the world, xxix. 5; vehemence
of her love, xxix. 10; her super
natural wound, xxix. 17; mani
fests her spiritual state to S.
Peter of Alcantara, xxx. 4;
bodly trials of, xxx. 17; finds
no relief in exterior occupa
tions, xxx. 18; buffeted by
Satan, xxxi. 3; converts a great
sinner, xxxi. 7; troubled be
cause well thought of, xxxi.
13-17; her singing of the Office,
xxxi. 26; commanded to labour
for the reform of her Order,
xxxii. 14; commanded to aban
don her purpose, xxxiii. 1; her
vision in the Dominican church,
Avila, xxxiii. 16; goes to To
ledo, xxxiv. 3; the nuns wish
to have her as their prioress,
xxxv. 8; restores a child to life,
xxxv. 14; note; begins the Re
form, xxxvi. 4; her grievious
trial, xxxvi. 6 7; her health i n-
proved, xxxvi. 9; would suffer
all things for one additional de
gree ot glory, xxxvii. 3; her af
fection for her confessors,
xxxvii. 6; supernaturally helped
when writing, xxxvii. 28; ob
tains sight for a blind person,
xxxix. 1; and the cure of one
of her kindred, xxxix. 2; her
spiritual state became known
without her consent , xl. 28;
submits all her writings to the
Roman Church, Rel. vii. 14;
commanded to write the his
tory of the foundations, Found.
Pro. 2; distrusts her memory,
5; delights in her nuns i. 1;
longs for the salvation of souls,
i. 5; ii. 2; afraid when the gen
eral of the Carmelites arrived
in Spain, ii. 1 ; frank with her
superiors, i. 2; wishes to have
Teresa, S. (Con.)
monasteries of friars founded,
11. 5; iii. 15; begins her work in
poverty and alone, ii. 6; pre
pares the house in Medina del
Campo, iii. 9; alarmed by the
difficulties of her task, iii. 10;
devotion of, to the Most Holy
Sacrament, iii. 12; goes to
Alcala de Henares, iii. 17, note;
bewails her own shortcomings,
iv. 6, 7; cures two nuns of de
lusions, vi. 14, 16; her longings
for communion at one time a
snare, vi. 19; her reflections on
her own communions, vi. 22; is
taught by Banes how to deal
with visions, viii. 3, 4; visits
Duruelo to make preparations
for the house of the friars, xiL
3; dislikes large monasteries,
xiv. 3; begs the first friars of
the reform to be less rigid with
themselves, xiv. 11; is much hin
dered in making the foundation
in Toledo, xv. 5; loves poverty,
xv. 14; joy of, in the monas
tery of Toledo, xvii. 1; returns
to" Toledo aiter making the
foundations of Pastrana, xviii.
1; laboriousness of her jour
neys, xviii. 4; xxiv. 3; xxvii. 15;
xxx. 13; xxxi. 14 — 18; founds a
house in Salamanca, xix. 4; or
dered to return as prioress to
the Incarnation, xix. 6;xxi. 1;
commanded by our Lord to
found a monastery in Segovia,
xx. 1; resigns the priorate of
the Incarnation, xxi. 8; asked
to make a foundation in Veas,
xxii. 1; cause of that request,
xxii. 2; ill on the road to Veas,
xxvii. 15; sees Fra Jerome for
the first time, xxiii. 1 ; xxiv. 1 ;
is glad that Fra Jerome had
become a friar of Carmel, xxiii.
12, 13; xxiv. 1; is sent to Seville
by Fra Jerome, xxiv. 2; illness
of, in going to Seville, xxiv. 5;
reaches Seville, xxiv. 9; meets
with difficulties, xxiv. 10; is
destitute of money, xxiv. 11;
wishes to return to Veas, xxiv.
12; receives an order to quit
Seville, xxv. 2; accepts the
foundation in Caravaca xxvii.
2; writes to the king for his
help, xxvii. 5; sent to Seville
by the visitor, xxvii. 5; unable
to go to Caravaca, xxvii. 6;
never refused a postulant be-
726
INDEX.
Teresa, S. ( Con.)
cause of her poverty, xxvii. 11;
her pure intentions in making
the foundations xxvii. 13; is
falsely accused xxvii. 18, 19;
distressed because she had in
curred the displeasure of the
general, xxviii. 2; is asked to
make a foundation in Villa-
nueva de la Jara, xxviii. 7; her
difficulties, xxviii. 11, 12; con
sents to make the foundation
in Villanueva, xxviii. 14; in a
trance sees Dona Catalina de
Cardona, xxviii. 30; bewails her
unworthiness, xxviii. 33; sent
by the provincial from Villa
nueva to Valladolid, xxix. 1;
asked to make a foundaton in
Palencia, xxix. 1; sets out for
Palencia, xxix. 7; seeks another
house for the community in
Palencia, xxix. 10; always re
paid all who helped her with
money, xxix. 20; joy of, at the
separation of her friars from
those of the mitigation xxix.
25; enters the diocese of Osma,
xxx. 6; reverence of, for the
bishop of Osma, xxx. 10; leaves
Soria for Avila, xxxi. 6; in
tends not to go to Burgos,
xxxi. 11; arrives in Burgos,
xxxi. 18; troubles of in Burgos,
xxxi. 24; is lodged with her
nuns in the hospital of the
Conception in Burgos, xxxi. 26;
cancels the deeds by which the
endowment of the house in
Burgos was secured, xxxi. 43.
Tere . of Jesus, (neice of the
Saint), Found, xxxi. 16, note.
Theology, mystical, Life, x. 1; xi.
8; xii. 8; xviii. 4
Thomas Aquinas St., Life, xxii.
1; xxxviii. 15
Thomas a Jesu, Life, xviii. 18;
Plate xxiv.
Throne, vision of a, Life, xxxix.
Toad, Life, vii. 13; xiii. 4; xxii. 20
Toledo, Don Luis of, Found, xiv.
7, 8
Toledo, Found, xv. 3, 9; xvi. 3, 5
Tolosa, Catalina de, Found, xxxi.
7, 8, 9, 12, 13, 18, 22, 27, 28, 33
note, 37, 38, 40, 41, 43
Tomasina of the Baptist, Found.
xxxi. 16, note.
Torres, Fra Francis de, (Fran
ciscan), Found, xxviii. 19
Tostado, Fra Jerome, Found.
xxvii. 18; xxviii. 1, note, 3, 4
Trance, a, Life, xviii. 17; xx. 1;
xl. 11; Rel. viii. 10; effects of,
Found, vi. 40
Transport, Rel. viii. 10
Tran sverberation, Life, xxix. 17
Trials, Life, xi. 18; xxx. 9; xxxix.
25
Trinity, the, Life, xxxix. 36; Rel.
iii. 6; v. 7, 8; vii. 20; ix. 12
Truth, divine. Life. xl. 3-8
Ulloa, de, Dona Guiomar, Life,
xxiv. 5; xxx. 3; xxxii. 13, 18;
xxxiv. 23; xxxv. 14; xxxvi. 1, 3,
Ulloa, Miguel, Fra., Found, xxiv.
14; xxvii. 18
Understanding, the, Life', viii. 19;
xiii. 17; xv. 10; xvi. 4; xxviii. 10
Union, imperfect, prayer of, Life,
xvi. 1; xvii. 1, 5, 6, 7; xviii. 1
Union, perfect, prayer of, Life,
xviii. 1, 3, 14, 16; xix. 4
Union, prayer of, Life, iv. 9; fol
lowed by visions, xxv. 14; what
it is, Rel. v. 2; of the soul's
faculties, Rel. viii. 7
Unreasonableness of melancholy
people, Found, vii. 2
Untrut^, the great evil of, Found
Pro. 3.
Ursula de los Santos, Life, xxxvi.
Vainglory, Life, vii. 2, 34; x. 5;
Rel. i. 18; ii. 15; vii. 23
Valdemoro, Found, xxviii. 3, note.
Valdes, Fernando, Life, xxvi. 6
Valera, Dona Leonor de, Found.
xxv. 1; xxvii. 12
Valladolid, Found, x. 3, 6
Vanda, Pedro de la, Found, xix. 7,
note, 9
Vanity of possessions, Life, xx.
35; xxxix. 11; of family pride,
Found, x. 9; xv. 16
Vargas, Francesco de, Found.
xxii. 3, note; xxiv. 2
Vasquez, Dionisio, S.J., Life,
xxviii. 20; xxxiii. 9
Veamonte and Navarre, Dona
Beatriz de, Found, xxx. 3, 8
Veamonte, Don Francis de,
Found, xxx. 3
Veamonte, Francisco Carlo de,
Found, xxx. 3
Veas, Rel. vi. 1; ix. 25; Found.
xxii. 19; xxiii. 1; xxiv. 1; xxvii.
1 0
Vega, Juan de, Found, xxix. 12
INDEX.
727
Vega, Suero de, Found, xxix. 12,
23
Vela, Don Cristobal, Found, xxxi.
1, 2, 5, 6, 12, 19, 23, 26, 37, 41,
45; Plate xxv.
Velada, Marquis de, Life, xxxvi.
Velasco, Ana de, Found, iii. 5
Velasquez, Alonso, Rel. ix. 1; xi;
Found, xxviii. 9; xxx. 1, 3, 7, 9,
12; xxxi. 47
Velasquez, Francis, Steward of
the Duke of Alba, Found, xx.
1, 5, 6, 9, 10, 11; Plate xvi.
Velasquez, Don Rafael Megia,
Found, x. 3; xiii. 2
Venial sin, Life, xxv. 26
Vergas, Maria, Life, xxxvi. 25
Vesgas, Dona Maria de, Found.
xi. 1
Villanueva de la Jara, Found.
xxviii. 7, 11, 12, 31, 34
Villaroel, Don Diego de, Found.
iii. 13
Villavicencis, Loreneio de, Found.
xxviii. 4
Vincente de Christo, Fra., Found.
xiv. 10
Vinuessa, Don Juan de, Found.
xxx. 3
Virgins, the Eleven Thousand,
Found, xviii. 9
Virtue, growth of, Life, xiv. 6;
xvii. 4
Visions, Life, vii. 11; xxv. 14;
xxvii. 3, 4, 6, 13; xxviii. 2, 5,
14, 15, 17, 19; xxix. 1, 2, 6;
xxxvii. 4; xxxviii. 13, 14, 17, 22,
23, 24, 31; xxxix. 31, 32; xl. 1,
2, 8; Rel. iii. 13; v. 6; vii. 4;
Found, viii. 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
Vocations, Found, x. 9
Voragine, Jacobi a, Found, xviii.
9
Water, holy, Li/?, xxxi. 4, 5, 9, 10
Water, the first, Life, xi. 13; the
second, xiv. 1; the third, xvi. 1;
the fourth, xviii. 1; Rel. viii. 22
Wax, miracle of the, Found, xii.
Well, likeness of, Life, xxx. 23
Will, the state of, Life, xiv. 4; xv.
2, 10; xviii. 16; submission of
the, Found, v. 10; sacrifice of
the, rewarded, v. 14
Women, Life, xx. 7; xxvii. 16;
xxxi. 19; xxxvii. 15, 16; Rel.
i. 21
! World, Life, x. 7; xxvii. 16;
xxxi. 19; xxxvii. 15, 16; Rel.
Wound of the soul, Rel. viii. 16, 17
Yanez, Gonsalo, de Ovalle,
Found, xviii. 2
Yangiies, Diego, Rel. vii. 13
Yepes, Diego, Life, xx. 5; xxxiv.
8; xl. 18; Rel. iii. 18; ix. 1;
Found, xix. 10; xxii. 14, 24;
xxiv. 2, 14; xxvii. 18; xxx. 12,
note; Plate xxiii.
Zeal, indiscreet, Life, xiii. 11
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