■e>K 
 
 
 \?^ 
 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 -GffT OF 
 
 Kix»n Griffis 
 
Cornell University Library 
 BX4700.T4 A2 1888 
 
 Life of St. Teresa of Jesus of the order 
 
 olln 
 
 3 1924 029 424 789 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029424789 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 St. TERESA OF JESUS. 
 
ROEHAMPTON : 
 PRINTED BY JAMES STANLEY 
 
Medianical Photograph. 
 
 Barraiid, London &■ Li'vtvfool. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 ST. TERESA OF JESUS, 
 
 (©I \\t Wilder 0f ®Mr ladiJ ^f (faiimcL 
 
 WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH BY 
 
 DAVID LEWIS. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 
 DECOR CARMELI ET SARON. 
 
 LONDON : 
 ST. ANSELM'S SOCIETY, 
 
 5, AGAR STREET. 
 

 ^Imprimatur SetunHa (ZEtitia. 
 
 4- JOANNES BUTT, 
 
 Episcopus Southwarcensis. 
 
 ^ ■ 9^777^ 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 St. 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 y 
 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.' Dona Beatriz was the second 
 wife of Don Alfonso, and was related in the fourth degree to tlie 
 first wife, as appears from the dispensation granted to make the 
 marriage valid on the i6th of October, 1509. Of this marriage 
 Teresa was the third child. 
 
 Doiia 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.^ The Saint's own account is that 
 she was too giddy and careless 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 
 
 1 Fr. Anton, de St. Joseph, in his note on letter 16, but letter 41, 
 vol. iv. ed. Doblado. 
 
 2 Reforma de los Descalgos, lib. i. ch. vii. § 3. 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 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 con- 
 tinued, — on the one hand, the voice of God calling her ; on the 
 other, herself labouring to escape from her vocation. 
 
 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 besieged 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." 4 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.5 
 
 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 monas- 
 tery 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, however, 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, 
 without 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.^ 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, Caspar 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.7 She now placed 
 
 3 Ch. iii. § 2. 4 Ch. iii. § g. 5 Ch. i. § 3. 6 Ch. xxiii. § 2. 
 7 Ch. xxiii. § 9. 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 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 imper- 
 fections in the depths of her humility : " he thought the evil 
 spirit might have something to do " with her,^ 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 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 
 confessor, and of Don Francis, who seems to have still retained 
 some of his doubts, she told everything to St. Francis de Borja, 
 who on one point changed the method of direction observed by 
 F. Juan. That father recommended her to resist the supet- 
 natural visitations of the spirit as much as she could, but she was 
 not able, and the resistance pained her ; 9 St. Francis told her she 
 had done enough, and that it was not right to prolong that 
 resistance.'° 
 
 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 St. Peter of Alcan- 
 tara, 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 confessor was occasionally alarmed, and had to consult 
 
 8 Id. 1 12. 9 Ch. xxiv, § I. 10 Id. § 4. 
 
-VIll PREFACE. 
 
 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," and at a later time her friends were afraid that she might 
 be denounced to the Inquisitors.'* 
 
 During the troubles that arose when it became known that 
 the Saint was about to found the monastery of St. 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 Ibafiez,'3 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 
 Doiia Luisa de la Cerda, in Toledo, in the month of June 1562. 
 On the 24th of August, the feast of St. Bartholomew, in the same 
 year, the Reform of the Carmelites began in the new monastery 
 of St. Joseph in Avila. 
 
 What the Saint wrote for Fra Ibafiez has not been found. It 
 is, 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 St. 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 Andalucia," 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 St. 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 : 
 
 II Ch. xxix. § 4. 12 Ch. xxxiii. § 6. 
 
 13 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 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. IX 
 
 " 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 in 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, fos- 
 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 teaching the soul, without respect to the imagi- 
 nation and without interior locutions, is safe, and I find nothing 
 to object to it. St. Augustine speaks well of it. 
 
 " 4. Interior locutions in these days have been a delusion of 
 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, considering 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 
 doubtful, and should in no wise be desired, and if they come 
 undesired still they should be shunned as much as possible, yet 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 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. '4 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 measures 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 de- 
 scribed — there is no reason then for avoiding them. But no one 
 ought to rely on his own judgment herein ; he should make 
 everything 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 
 forthwith, 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 myself. Who will set bounds to the goodness of our 
 Lord ? — especially 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 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 scandalized at hearing of what God in His love does for 
 
 '* See Life, ch. xxix. § 6. 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 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 occasion 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 locu- 
 tions 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 do 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. AI50 it should be considered that, even if they do come 
 firom 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 neighbour : everything 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 imagination : 
 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. 
 
 " II. 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 cannot 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 
 
XII PREFACE. 
 
 most of them come from our 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 boimd to 
 write another letter. May Jesus be glorified in all and by all ! 
 
 Amen. 
 
 " Your servant, for Christ's sake, 
 
 " Juan de Avila. 
 
 " Montilla, 12th Sept. 1568." 
 
 Her confessors, having seen the book, " commanded her to 
 make copies of it," '5 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. '6 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 
 St. Dominic exclaimed, " The Princess a nun ! I look on the 
 bouse as ruined." The Princess came, and insisted on her right 
 as foundress ; she had compelled a fiiar to give her the habit 
 before her husband was buried, and when she came to Pastrana 
 
 ■5 Rel. vii. § 9. 
 »' Re/orma de los Descalfos, lib. ii. c. xxviii. § 6. 
 
PREFACE. XUl 
 
 she began her religious life by the most complete disobedience 
 and disregard of common propriety. 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. 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 St. Teresa, who remon- 
 strated 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 to Segovia." '7 
 
 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 Inqui- 
 sition, and denounced 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 Baiies was one, 
 were delegated censors of it by the Inquisition-'^ 
 
 Fra Baiies did not know the Saint when he undertook her 
 defence in Avila against the authorities of the city, eager to 
 destroy the monastery of St. Joseph ; '9 but from that time forth 
 he was one of her most faithful friends, strict and even severe, 
 as became a wise director who Jiad a great. Saint for his penitent. 
 He testifies in the process of her beatification that he was firm 
 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.^" When he found that copies of her life were in 
 the hands of secular people, — he 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 Baiies, struck with her 
 
 "? Introduccion at libro de la Vida, vol. i. p. 3. 
 
 '^ Jerome Gratian, Lucidario, c. iv. 
 
 ■9 Life, ch. xxxvi. § 15. 
 
 '" The Saint says of herself, Rel. 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." 
 
xiv PREFACE. 
 
 Jbumility, had not the courage to burn it ; he sent it to the Holy 
 Office in Madrid." 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 Baiies, 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 Baiies 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. Baiies wished it had been published 
 when the Saint's Life was given to the world by Fra Luis de 
 Leon ; but notwithstanding its value, 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 St. 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. When he wrote, he wrote like a 
 man whose whole life was spent, as he tells us himself, " in 
 lecturing and disputing."" 
 That censure is as follows : 
 
 " I. This book, wherein Teresa of Jesus, Carmelite nun, and 
 foundress 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 anywhere in it anything 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 
 
 =' Rel. vii. § i6. 
 
 == "Como hombre criado toda mi vida en leer y disputar" (De la 
 Fuente, ii. p. 376). 
 
PREFACE. XV 
 
 tjiem as proofs of sanctity, though sanctity does not lie in them. 
 OntKecontrary, 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,«3 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, St. Paul could not have said that Satan transforms him- 
 self 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 St. Dominic, 
 St. Francis, St. Vincent Ferrer, St. Catherine of Siena, St. Ger- 
 trude, 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 holiness, 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 i Thess. v. ig — 22 : ' Spiritum nolite extinguere. ( 
 Prophetias nolite spernere. Omnia [autem] probate : quod 
 bonum est tenete. Ab omni specie mala abstinete vos.' He 
 who will read St. Thomas on that passage will see how carefully 
 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 
 fire of the Spirit of God should be quenched in the good, and 
 others cowed in the practices of the perfect Christian life. 
 
 " 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 : 
 
 =3 2 Cor. xi. 14: "Ipse enim Satanas transfigurat se in angelum 
 lueis." 
 
XVI PREFACE. 
 
 ' Moerere fecistis 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, con- 
 strains 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 purpose of honouring those whom we see 
 walking in the way of contemplation ; for it is another extreme 
 into which the world falls, and a covert 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'risTcs, 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. 
 
PREFACE. XVll, 
 
 " 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. I do not, however, undervalue her visions, revela- 
 tions, 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 inter- 
 fere, 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 Chrrs- 
 tian 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 delusions. 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 Pro-^ 
 vincial, master in theology,** Fra Pedro Fernandez, the master 
 Fra Hernando del Castillo, and many others, speak highly. 
 This is what I think, at present, concerning the censure of this 
 book, submitting my judgment herein to that of Holy Church 
 our mother, and her ministers. 
 
 " Given in the College of St. Gregory, Valladolid, on the 
 
 sixth day of July, 1575. 
 
 "Fra Domingo Banes." 
 
 The book remained in the keeping of the Inquisition, andi 
 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 Inquisition, when she applied to him for 
 
 =* The other theologian appointed by the Inquisition, with Fn 
 BaSes, to examine the " Life." 
 
XVlll PREFACE. 
 
 license to found a monastery in Madrid. Jerome of the Mother 
 of God was with her; and heard the Cardinal's reply. His 
 Eminence said he was glad to see her ; that a book 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 con- 
 taining 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 monasteries both of men and women.'s 
 
 Anne of Jesus, in 1586, founding a monastery of her Order in 
 Madrid, — the Saint had died in 1582, — 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 MaximiUan 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 Augustinian, to edit the book, who consented. He 
 was allowed to compare the copy furnished him with the original 
 in the keeping of the Inquisition ; but his edition has not been 
 considered accurate, notwithstanding 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 pub- 
 lished as an additional chapter. Whether he printed all he 
 received, or merely made extracts, may be doubtful, but anyhow 
 that chapter is singularly 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 paragraphs of that chapter to 
 
 =s This took place in the year 1580, according to the Chronicler of 
 the Order {Reforma de los Descalgos, lib. v. c. xxxvi. § 8) ; aind the 
 BoUandists (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 •£ March, 1581, according to the Chronicler and the BoUandists, it 
 is more likely that the audience granted to them by the Cardinal took 
 place in 1581. 
 
PREFACE. XIX 
 
 their sources, and has given us now a collection of papers which 
 form almost another Life of the Saint, to which he has given 
 their old name of Relations,'^ the name which the Saint herself 
 had given them.27 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, seemingly 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 pre- 
 served 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 consci- 
 entious diligence is not a safeguard against mistakes. F. Bouix 
 says that in ch. xxiv. § 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 St. Teresa seems called for 
 now, because the original text has been collated since the 
 previous translations were made, and also because those trans- 
 lations are exceedingly scarce. The first is beheved to be this — 
 it is a small quarto : 
 
 " The Lyf of the Mother Teresa of Jesus, Foundresse of the 
 Monasteries of the Discalced or Bare-footed Carmelite Nunnes 
 and Fryers of the First Rule. 
 
 " Written by herself at the commaundement of her ghostly 
 
 =* Refonna de los Descalfos, lib. v. c. xxxv. § 4: "Relaciones de su 
 espiritu." '' Rel. ii. § 18. 
 
XX PREFACE. 
 
 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., dis- 
 satisfied, as he says, with the former translation, published 
 another, with the following title; the volume is a small octavo in 
 form: 
 
 " The Flaming Hart, or the Life of the glorious St. Teresa, 
 Foundresse of the Reformation of the Order of the All-Immacu- 
 late Virgin 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 Joannes Meursius. Anno mdcxlii." 
 
 The next translation was made by Abraham Woodhead, and 
 published 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 St. Teresa, Foundress of the 
 Reformation of the Discalced Carmelites according to the Primi- 
 tive 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 oflf 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 
 translation 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 separately, 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." 
 
 Septuagesima, 1870. 
 
ANNALS OF THE SAINT'S LIFE. 
 
 By Don Vicente de la Fuente. 
 
 *,* These are substantially the same with those drawn up by the Bollandists, 
 but they are fuller and mere minute, and furnish a more detailed 
 history of the Saint. 
 
 1515. St. Teresa is born in Avila, March 28th.' 
 
 1523. She desires martyrdom, and leaves her father's house 
 with one of her brothers. 
 
 1527.* Death of her mother. 
 
 1529. Writes romances of chivalry, and is misled by a thought- 
 less 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. 
 
 1533.3 Nov. 2, enters the monastery of the Incarnation. 
 
 1534. Nov. 3, makes her profession. 
 
 ' In the same year St. Philip was born in Florence. St. Teresa died 
 in 1582, and St. Philip in 1595 ; but they were canonised on the same 
 day, with St. Isidore, St. Ignatius, and St. Francis Xavier. The three 
 latter were joined together in the three final consistories held before 
 the solemn proclamation of their sanctity, and St. Teresa and St. Philip 
 were joined together in the same way in the final consistories held 
 specially, as usual, for them. 
 
 = 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; 
 
XXii ANNALS OF THE SAINT'S LIFE. 
 
 1535. Goes to Castellanos de la Canada, to her sister's house, 
 where she remains till the spring of 1536, when she goes 
 to Bezadas. 
 
 1537. Returns to Avila on Palm Sunday. In July seriously ill, 
 and in a trance for four days, when in her father's 
 house. Paralysed for more than two years. 
 
 1539. Is cured of her paralysis by St. Joseph. 
 
 1541. Begins to grow lukewarm, and gives up mental prayer. 
 
 1542. Our Lord appears to her in the parlour of the monas- 
 
 tery, " stem and grave " [oh. vii. § 11, see note there] . 
 
 1555. Ceases to converse with secular people, moved thereto by 
 
 the sight of a picture of our Lord on the cross [ch. ix. 
 § i] . The Jesuits come to Avila and the Saint con- 
 fesses to F. Juan de Padranos. 
 
 1556. Beginning of the supernatural visitations. 
 
 1557. St. 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. § i] . 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 
 firom the dead [ch. xxvii. § 3, ch. xxviii. § 2] . 
 
 1560. The vow of greater perfection. St. Peter of Alcantara 
 
 approves of her spirit, and St. Luis Beltran encourages 
 her to proceed with her plan of founding a new monas- 
 tery. 
 
 1561. F. Gaspar de Salazar, S.J., comes to Avila ; her sister 
 
 Doiia 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. 
 
 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 Chron- 
 icler of the Order differs from all, and assigns the year 1536 as the year 
 in which she entered the monastery. 
 
ANNALS OF THE SAINT S LIFE. XXUl 
 
 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 Baiies, afterwards her principal 
 director, and Fra Garcia of Toledo, both Dominicans. 
 Receives a visit from Maria of Jesus. Has a revelation 
 that her sister, Doiia Maria, will die suddenly [ch. xxxiv. 
 § 33] . Returns to Avila and takes possession of the 
 new monastery, August 34. Troubles in Avila. The 
 Saint ordered back to the monastery of the Incarnation. 
 Is commanded by Fra Garcia of Toledo to write the 
 history of the foundation of St. Joseph. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PACE 
 
 Prologue I 
 
 I. Childhood and early Impressions — The Blessing of 
 pious Parents — Desire of Martyrdom — Death of 
 
 the Saint's Mother 2 
 
 II. Early Impressions — Dangerous Books and Companions 
 
 — The Saint is placed in a Monastery . . 6 
 
 III. The Blessing of being with good People — How certain 
 
 Illusions were removed ... . n 
 
 IV. Our Lord helps her to become a Nun — Her many In- 
 
 firmities 15 
 
 V. Illness and Patience of the Saint — The Story of a 
 
 Priest whom she rescued from a Life of Sin . . 22 
 
 VI. The great Debt she owed to our Lord for His Mercy 
 
 to her — She takes St. Joseph for her Patron . . 30 
 VII. Lukewarmness — The Loss of Grace — Inconvenience 
 
 of Laxity in Religious Houses 36 
 
 VIII. The Saint ceases not to pray — Prayer the way to 
 recover what is lost — All exhorted to pray — The 
 great Advantage of Prayer, even to those who may 
 have ceased from it 50 
 
 IX. The means whereby our Lord quickened her Soul, 
 gave her Light in her Darkness, and made her 
 
 strong in Goodness -57 
 
 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 Writings secret, because of 
 the special Graces of our Lord to her, which they 
 had commanded her to describe .... 62 
 
 XI. 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 . 68 
 XII. What we can ourselves do — ^The Evil of desiring to 
 attain to supernatural States before our Lord calls 
 us 78 
 
XXvi CONTENTS. 
 
 ^ PAGE 
 
 CHAP. . . 
 
 XIII. Of certain Temptations of Satan— Instructions relating 
 
 thereto ^3 
 
 XIV. The second State of Prayer— Its supernatural Character 95 
 XV. Instructions for those who have attained to the Prayer 
 
 of Quiet — Many advance so far, but few go farther 102 
 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 . . .112 
 
 XVII. The third State of Prayer— The Effects thereof— The 
 Hindrance caused by the Imagination and the 
 Memory . . "7 
 
 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 123 
 XIX. The 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 . 131 
 
 XX. The Difference between Union and Rapture — What 
 Rapture is — The Blessing it is to the Soul — The 
 Effects of it . . . . . 140 
 
 XXI. Conclusion of the Subject — Pain of the Awakening — 
 
 Light against Delusions . .156 
 
 XXII. The Security of Contemplatives lies in their not 
 ascending 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 . . 162 
 
 XXIII. The Saint resumes the History of her Life — Aiming at 
 
 Perfection — Means whereby it may be gained — 
 Instructions for Confessors . . -174 
 
 XXIV. Progress under Obedience — Her Inability to resist the 
 
 Graces of God — God multiplies His Graces . . 184 
 XXV. Divine Locutions — Delusions on that Subject 188 
 
 XXVI. How the Fears of the Saint vanished — How she was 
 assured that her Prayer was the Work of the Holy 
 
 Spirit 201 
 
 • XXVII. The Saint prays to be directed in a different Way- 
 Intellectual Visions . ... 205 
 
 XXVIII. Visions of the Sacred Humanity and of the glorified 
 Bodies — Imaginary Visions — Great Fruits thereof 
 when they come from God . . . 216 
 
 XXIX. Of Visions — The Graces our Lord bestowed on the 
 Saint — The Answers our Lord gave her for those 
 who tried her . . .... 227 
 
 XXX. St. Peter of Alcantara comforts the Saint — Great 
 
 Temptations and Interior Trials . 236 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XXVll 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 XXXI. Of certain outward Temptations and Appearances of 
 Satan — Of the Sufferings thereby occasioned — 
 Counsels for those who go on unto Perfection 
 XXXII. Our Lord shows St. Teresa the Place which she had 
 by her Sins deserved in Hell — ^The Torments 
 there— How the Monastery of St. Joseph was 
 founded 
 
 XXXIII. The Foundation of the Monastery hindered — Our 
 
 Lord consoles the Saint . 
 
 XXXIV. The Saint leaves her Monastery of the Incarnation 
 
 for a time, at the command of her Superior — 
 Consoles an afflicted Widow 
 XXXV. The Foundation of the House of St. Joseph — Observ- 
 ance of holy Poverty therein — How the Saint left 
 Toledo ... 
 XXXVI. The Foundation of the Monastery of St. Joseph- 
 Persecution and Temptations — Great interior Trial 
 of the Saint, and her Deliverance . 
 XXXVII. The Effects of the divine Graces in the Soul— The 
 
 inestimable Greatness of one Degree of Glory 
 XXXVIII. Certain heavenly Secrets, Visions, and Revelations — 
 The Effects of them in her Soul 
 XXXIX. Other Graces bestowed on the Saint — The Promises of 
 our Lord to her — Divine Locutions and Visions . 
 XL. Visions, Revelations, and Locutions 
 
 248 
 
 262 
 
 271 
 
 281 
 
 292 
 
 301 
 
 317 
 
 324 
 
 339 
 352 
 
 THE RELATIONS. 
 
 Sent to St. Peter of Alcantara in 1560 from the Monas- 
 tery of the Incarnation, Avila . 369 
 
 To one of her Confessors, from the House of Dona 
 
 Luisa de la Cerda, in 1562 . 381 
 
 III. Of various Graces granted to the Saint from the year 
 
 1568 to 1571 inclusive . . 387 
 
 IV. Of the Graces the Saint received in Salamanca at the 
 
 end of Lent, 1571 396 
 
 Observations on certain Points of Spirituality . 399 
 
 The Vow of Obedience to Father Gratian which the 
 
 Saint made in 1575 404 
 
 Made for Rodrigo Alvarez, S.J., in the year 1575, 
 
 according to Don Vicente de la Fuente; but in 
 
 1576, according to the Bollandists and F. Bouix . 408 
 VIII. Addressed to F. Rodrigo Alvarez . . 417 
 
 II. 
 
 V. 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
XXVlll CONTENTS. 
 
 IX. Of certain spiritual Graces she received in Toledo and 
 
 Avila in the years 1576 and 1577 . ■ 426 
 
 X. Of a Revelation to the Saint at Avila, 1579, and of 
 
 Directions concerning the Government of the Order 436 
 
 XI. 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 437 
 
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 therefore, for the love of our Lord, I beg 
 of every one who shall read this story of my life ' 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. 
 
 ' The Saint, in a letter written November 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 libra De las Miseri- 
 cordias de Dios. 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, § i). 
 B 
 
•2 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. I. 
 
 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 myself which my confessors command me 
 to give ; and even our 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 confessors; who, 
 inowing 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. 
 
 I. 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 children might read them. These books, with 
 my mother's carefulness 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 respect anything but goodness. 
 They were very good themselves. 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 
 
CH. I.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 3 
 
 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 calm, and had great 
 sense. The sufferings she went through during her life 
 were grievous, her death most Christian.' 
 
 3. We were three sisters and nine brothers.^ 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, 
 
 ■ See ch. xxxvii. § i ; where the Saint says that she saw them in a 
 vision both in Heaven. 
 
 = Alfonso Sanchez de Cepeda, father of the Saint, married first 
 Catalina del Peso y Henao, 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 Doiia Teresa ; 
 but in the year 1563, when she left her monastery for the new foun- 
 dation of St. Joseph, of the Reform of 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 baptized on the 4th of April, in the Church 
 of St. John; on which day Mass was said for the first time in the 
 Monastery of the Incarnation, where the Saint made her profession. 
 Her godfather was Vela Nuiiez, and her godmother Doiia Maria del 
 Aguila. The Bollandists and Father Bouix say that she was baptized 
 on the very day of her birth. But the testimony of Doiia 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 inothing singular in those days, provided there was no 
 danger of death. 
 
4 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. I. 
 
 my brothers never in any way hindered me in the service 
 of God. 
 
 -4. One of my brothers was nearly of 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 under- 
 gone 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 to die a martyr's death, — not out of any 
 love of Him of which I was conscious, but that I 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,* begging our way for the love of God, that we 
 might be there beheaded ; s 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 repeating frequently, " For ever, ever, ever." 
 
 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. St. Teresa always considered him a martyr, because 
 he died in defence of the Catholic faith {Ribera, lib. i. ch. iv.). Before 
 he sailed for the Indies, he made his will, and left all his property to 
 the Saint, his sister (Reforma de los Descalfos, vol. i. lib. i. ch. iii. § 4). 
 
 * The BoUandists incline to believe that St. 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 canonization, and 
 the Lections of the Breviary, say that she left her father's house, ut in 
 Africam trajiceret. 
 
 s 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 Francisco 
 Alvarez de Cepeda (Reforma de los Descalfos, lib. i. ch. v. § 4). 
 
CH. I.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 5 
 
 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 accom- 
 plishing 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 tjut little. I contrived to be alone, for the 
 sake of saying my prayers* — and they were many — 
 especially the Rosary, to which my mother had a great 
 devotion, and had made us also in this like herself. 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,? 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,^ 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 
 
 ' She was also marvellously touched by the story of the Samaritan 
 woman at the well, of whom there was a picture in her room (Ribera, 
 lib. i. ch. iv.). She speaks of this later on. (See ch. xxx. § 24). 
 
 7 The last will and testament of DoBa Beatriz de Ahumada was 
 made November 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 BoUandists, that Doiia 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. 
 
 ' Our Lady of Charity, in the church of the hqspital where the 
 poor and pilgrims were received in Avila (Bouix). 
 
6 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. II. 
 
 to her ; and at last she has brought me back to herself. 
 It distresses me now, -vvhen 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. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 EARLY IMPRESSIONS. DANGEROUS BOOKS AND COMPANIONS. 
 THE SAINT IS PLACED IN A MONASTERY. 
 
 I. What I shall now speak of was, I believe, the beginning 
 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 qf reason, 
 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 
 
CH. II.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 7 
 
 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 lukewarm- 
 ness 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 neatness ' lasted some years ; and so also did 
 other practices, 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 everything that gave them, 
 pleasure, I kept the conversation alive, — listened to the 
 
 » The Saint throughout her life was extremely careful of cleanliness.. 
 In one of her letters to Father 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 St. Bartholomew, in her life (Bruxelles, 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 Ven. Mother, " that she could not bear anything that was not 
 clean." 
 
8 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. 11. 
 
 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,' from whose modesty and goodness, which 
 were great, I learned nothing; and learned every evil 
 from a relative who was often in the house. She was so 
 light and frivolous, 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 verj' fond 
 of this person's company, gossiped and talked with her; 
 for she helped me in all the amusements 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 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 the 
 strength never to do anything 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 utterly careless. 
 I was anxious only not to be lost altogether. 
 
 ' 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 January 11, 1531 (Reforma de los Descalfos, lib. i. ch. vii. § 4). 
 
CH. II.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 9 
 
 5. This friendship distressed my father and sister 
 exceedingly. They often blamed me for it ; but, as they 
 could not hinder that person from coming into the house, 
 all their efforts were in vain ; for I was very adroit in 
 doing anything 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 was given to the same 
 kind of amusements. 
 
 6. I know from this the great advantage of good 
 companions ; 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 inclined to much evil, — for I hated naturally 
 anything dishonourable, — but only to the amusement of a 
 pleasant conversation. 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. 
 
lO LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. II. 
 
 8. I had not spent, I think, three months in these 
 vanities, when they took me to a monastery 3 in the city 
 where I lived, in which children hke 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 thinking that anything 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 displeasing 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 con- 
 tented than I had been 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 
 
 3 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 Descalfos, lib. i. ch. vii. n. 2). There were 
 forty nuns in the house at this time [De la Fiiente). 
 
CH, III.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. II 
 
 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;* and I was told by my con- 
 fessors, and others also, whom in many points I consulted, 
 used to say, that I was not offending God. One of the 
 nuns 5 slept with us who were seculars, and through her 
 it pleased our Lord to give me light, as I shall now 
 explain. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 THE BLESSING OF BEING WITH GOOD PEOPLE. HOW 
 CERTAIN ILLUSIONS WERE REMOVED. 
 
 I. I BEGAN gradually to like the good and holy conver- 
 sation of this nun. How well she used to speak of God ! 
 for 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 
 
 ■• Some have said that the Saint at this time intended, or wished, 
 to be married ; and Father 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. 
 
 s Dona Maria Brizefio, mistress of the secular children who were 
 educated in the monastery (Reforma, lib. i. ch. vii. § 3). 
 
12 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. III. 
 
 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." ' She would speak of the reward 
 which our Lord gives to those who forsake all things for 
 His sake. This good companionship 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 Psalm 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 en- 
 couraged me in this my wish ; and if all had been of one 
 mind, I might have profited by it. I had also a great 
 friend ^ in another monastery ; and this made me resolve, 
 if I was 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 
 own good, our Lord was much more careful to dispose me 
 for that state of life which was best for me. He sent me 
 
 » St. Matt. XX. 16 : " Multi enim sunt vocati, pauci vero electi." 
 ' Juana Suarez, in the Monastery of the Incarnation, Avila (Reforma, 
 lib. i. ch. vii. § 7). 
 
CH. III.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I3 
 
 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 
 sisters 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 everywhere ; and all my service in return is, that 
 I am what I am. 
 
 5. On the road lived a brother of my father 4 — 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 parti- 
 cular, 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, 
 
 3 Maria d6 Cepeda, married to Don Martin Guzman y Barrientos. 
 They lived in Castellanos de la Caiiada, 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. § 24. 
 
 * Don Pedro Sanchez de Cepeda. He lived in Hortigosa, four 
 leagues from Avila {De la Fuente). 
 
14 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. III. 
 
 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 thcqe months. I used to press 
 this reason against myself iCjne trials and sufferings of 
 living 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, I think, 
 than by love, to enter religio^ 
 
 8. The devil put before rfie 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 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 St. 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 I would never, for any 
 consideration, recede from a promise when once mj? word 
 had been given. 
 
 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. 
 
CH. IV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I5 
 
 CHAPTER IV, 
 
 OUR LORD HELPS HER TO BECOME A NUN. 
 HER MANY INFIRMITIES. 
 
 I. In those days, when I was thus resolved, I had per- 
 suaded one of my brothers,' by speaking to him of the 
 vanity 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 : « 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 remember 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 ; 3 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.* 
 
 2. When I took the habit, s our Lord at once made me 
 
 ' Antonio de Ahumada ; who, according to the most probable 
 opinion, entered the Dominican monastery of St. Thomas, Avila. It is 
 said that he died before he was professed. Some said he joined the 
 Hieronymites ; but this is not so probable (£>« la Fnente). Ribera, 
 however, says that he did enter the novitiate of the Hieronymites but 
 died before he was out of it (lib. i. ch. vi.). 
 
 = Juana Suarez, in the Monastery of the Incarnation, Avila. 
 
 3 See Relation, vi. § 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 " {Reforma, lib. i. ch. viii. § 5). 
 
 5 The Saint entered the Monastery of the Incarnation Nov. 2, 1533, 
 and made her profession Nov. 3, 1534 (Bollandists and Bouix). Ribera 
 
l6 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. IV. 
 
 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 convertedthe aridity of 
 my soul into the greatest tenderness. Everything 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 foUies, I was filled with a new jov that surprised 
 me, nor could I understand whence it came^ 
 
 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 what- 
 ever ; 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 
 understands 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 expeneijce, as I have just said, in many 
 serious affairs ; andl^so, if I were a person who had to 
 advise anybody, 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 
 efiiect ; for if a person lives detached for the love of God 
 only, that is no reason for being afraid of failure, for He is 
 omnipotentTl 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, 
 seeing that Thy compassion and greatness had drawn me 
 through so many windings to a state so secure, to a house 
 
 says she entered November 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 
 bad made a mistake. 
 
CH. IV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I7 
 
 where there are so many servants of God, from whom I 
 might learn how I may 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 
 intention : but I see that what I have done since is of 
 such a nature, 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. 
 
 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, Q 
 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 thea 
 everything 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 
 
jg LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. IV. 
 
 think I offended God in it much. And as my illness was 
 so serious— I was almost insensible 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 infirmities. They 
 said I should find relief there.e 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.7 
 
 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,^ more than my constitution 
 could bear. 
 
 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.s 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,'" and 
 whose house was on our road, gave me a book called 
 Tercer Ahecedario," 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 myself. I was therefore much 
 pleased with the book, and resolved to follow the way of 
 prayer it described with all my might. And as our Lord 
 
 ' 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 Caiiada, 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). 
 
 7 It was in 1563 that all nuns were compelled to observe enclosure 
 i{De la Fuente). 
 
 » Ch. V. § 15. 9 Ch. iii. § 4. ■" Ch. iii. § 5. 
 
 " By Fray Francisco de Osuna, of the Order of St. Francis 
 ■{Reforma, lib. i. ch. xi. § 2). 
 
CH IV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. ig 
 
 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 
 frequently 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. J 
 
 g. 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 was 
 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 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. 
 
 lo. 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 imagination is so sluggish," that 
 '= See ch. ix. §§ 4, 7. 
 
20 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. IV. 
 
 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. 
 
 II. And though men may attain more quickly to the 
 state of contemplation, if they persevere, by this way of 
 inability 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 
 'SSail it most grievously. Persons in this condition must 
 have greater purity of conscience than those who can 
 make use of their understanding ; 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 oflf 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 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 may be that he reads, 
 if only as a substitute for the mental prayer which is 
 beyond his reach. 
 
 13. Now I seem to understand that it was the good 
 providence 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 
 
CH. IV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 
 
 21 
 
 soul was as much afraid to pray without one, as if it had 
 to fight against a host. With a book to help me — it was 
 like a companion, and a shield whereon to receive the 
 blows of many thoughts — I found comfort ; for it was not 
 usual 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, using it as a decoy, kept my soul in 
 peace, very frequently by merely 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, however wretched and imperfect, 
 have been made better and perfected by Him Who is my 
 Lord : He has 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 my 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 
 
22 
 
 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. V. 
 
 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 forgotten 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 novitiate, I 
 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 
 discontented, and said so. 
 
 2. AU 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 ever3rthing 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 satisfaction in everything, 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. 
 
 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 
 
CH. v.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 2J 
 
 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 I was 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 before' — 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 learn- 
 ing, but not much. I went to confession to him, for I was 
 always fond of learned men, although confessors indiffer- 
 ently 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 con- 
 fessors are good men and of holy lives, that they should 
 have no learning at all, than a little ; for such confessors 
 never trust themselves without consulting those who are 
 
 • 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). 
 
•24 
 
 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH, V. 
 
 learned — nor would I trust them myself: and a really 
 learned confessor never deceived me.* 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 believing 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 was no sin at all ; of that which was most 
 grievously mortal, they said it was venial.3 
 
 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 
 ma)' 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, tiU a most learned Dominican Father'' 
 undeceived me in part, and those of the Company of Jesus 
 made me altogether so afraid, by insisting on the erroneous- 
 ness of these principles, as I shall hereafter show.5 
 
 9. I began, then, by going to confession to that priest 
 of whom I spoke before.* 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 
 
 = Schram, Theolog. Mystic., § 483. " Magni doctores scholastic!, si 
 Bon sint spirituales, vel omni rerum spiritaalium 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, praestat mediocriter 
 spiritualem theologum consulere quam spiritualem idiotam." 
 
 3 See Way of Perfection, ch. viii. § 2 ; but ch. v. ed. Doblado. 
 
 « F. Vicente Barron {Bouix). s See ch. xxiii. * § 6. 
 
CH. v.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 25 
 
 no account whatever to do anything whereby God might 
 be seriously offended. He, too, gave me a like assurance 
 about himself, and accordingly 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 goodwill 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 condition, 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 enchantments, 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 enchant- 
 ments, 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 ; 
 
26 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. V. 
 
 and that in exchange for the gratification of their will, 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 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 
 frequently 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 
 me 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 hght 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 anything wrong in it, though it might have been 
 of greater purity. There were also occasions wherein he 
 might have most grievously offended, if he had not kept 
 himself in the near presence of God. As I said before,? 
 I would not then have done an)rthing 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 
 
 ' §9. 
 
CH. v.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 27 
 
 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 withdrawn 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 constitution. In two months — so strong were the 
 medicines — my life was nearly worn out ; and the severity 
 of the pain in the heart,^ 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 what- 
 ever, only drink. I had a great loathing for food, and a 
 fever that never left me. I was 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 
 distress, 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 St, Gregory (our Lord seems to 
 have prepared me thereby) ; and that I had begun the 
 
 8 Ch. iv. § 6. 
 
28 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. V. 
 
 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 ? " 9 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 confession, for I had always been very fond of 
 frequent confession. They thought I was driven by the 
 fear of death ; 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 Cvedo, 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 ; '° and the Friars of our 
 Order, in a house at some distance from this place, per- 
 formed funeral solemnities. But it pleased our Lord I 
 should come to myself. 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 
 
 9 Job ii. 10 : " Si bona suscepimus de manu Domini, mala quare 
 Don suscipiamus ? " 
 
 '" 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 {Rihera, lib. i. ch. vii.). 
 
CH. v.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 29 
 
 only for having oifended God, which might have sufficed 
 for my salvation — unless, indeed, 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 afterwards I found were so 
 certainly. 
 
 20. Though my sufferings were unendurable, and my 
 perceptions dull, yet my confession, I believe, was com- 
 plete 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 anything I thought 
 to be a sin, though it might be only a venial sin. But I 
 think that undoubtedly 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 to have raised me up from the dead, I 
 am so filled with wonder, that I almost tremble with fear.'^ 
 
 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 nothing 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 evermore, and 
 destroy me utterly, rather than let me cease to love Him 
 any more ! 
 
 " 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 illness, 
 yet it was a trance of the soul at the same time (vol. i. lib. i. ch. xii. § 3). 
 
30 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VI. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE GREAT DEBT SHE OWED TO OUR LORD FOR HIS MERCY 
 TO HER. SHE TAKES ST. JOSEPH FOR HER PATRON. 
 
 I. After those four days, during which I was insen- 
 sible, 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 impwDssible, 
 for I was so bruised that I could not endure it. They 
 used to move me in a sheet, one holding one end, and 
 another the other. This lasted till Palm Sunday.' 
 
 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 inter- 
 mittent 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,* more than eight 
 
 ' March 25, 1537. 
 
 = 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 
 
CH. VI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 3 1 
 
 months; and was paralytic, 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 resig- 
 nation, 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 solitude, 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 everyone ; 
 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 afflic- 
 tionjBdth so great a joy. 
 
 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, anything I should not like to 
 have said of myself. 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 convinced that 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 
 
 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 tlarough the intercession of St. Joseph (Bolland, 
 n. 100, loi). The dates of the Chronicler are different from these. 
 
32 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VI. 
 
 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 
 discourse 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 was 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 grew 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 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 thoroughly avoiding the occasions of sin, and in my 
 confessors, who helped me so little. If they had told me 
 that I was travelling on a dangerous road, and that I was 
 bound to abstain from those conversations, I believe, with- 
 out any doubt, that the matter would have been remedied. 
 
CH. Vr.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 33 
 
 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 
 oxS]>iny 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 helpless 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 well. This is our delusion; 
 we do not resign ourselves absolutely to the disposition of 
 
 ^ur 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 un- 
 seemly and superstitious ; and I took for my patron and 
 lord the glorious St. 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 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 anything; 
 which he has not granted ; and I am filled with amazement 
 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 experience, to help us in all : and our Lord 
 
 D 
 
34 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VI. 
 
 -would have us understand that as He was Himself subject 
 to him upon earth — for St. 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 St. Joseph, and 
 they too know this by experience ; and there are many 
 who are now of late devout to him, 3 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 imper- 
 fections and of many faults ; but as for doing wrong, the 
 indulgence of curiosity and vanity, I was very skilful 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 directs it aright for my greater 
 good. 
 
 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 
 
 3 Of the devotion to St. Joseph, F. Faber [The Blessed Sacrament, 
 bk. ii. p. igg, 3rd ed.) says that it took its rise in the West, in a confra- 
 ternity in Avignon. " Then it spread over the Church. Gerson was 
 raised up to be its doctor and theologian, and St. Teresa to be its 
 Saint, and St.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." 
 
CH. VI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 35 
 
 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 com- 
 mending oneself to this glorious patriarch, and being 
 devout to him. Those who give themselves to prayer 
 should in a special manner have always a devotion to 
 St. 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 
 " St. Joseph for the services he rendered them then. He 
 who cannot find an)' 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 St. 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 St. Paul, though not so truly as he did: "It is 
 not I who live now, but Thou, my Creator, livest in me." + 
 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 anything, however slight it 
 may be, contrary to Thy will, though I must have frequently 
 offended Thy Divine Majesty without being aware of it ; 
 
 4 Galat.ii. 20: " Vivo autem, jam non ego ; vivit vero in me Christus." 
 
36 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH, VII. 
 
 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 anything that does not come 
 from Thee can give me pleasure ; everything else seems to 
 me a heavy cross. 
 
 15. Still, I may easily deceive myself, and it may be 
 that I am not what I say I am ; but Thou knowest, O my 
 Lord, that, to the best of my knowledge, I he 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 
 everything is so uncertain. Once, O Lord, I thought it 
 impossible 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 Vn. 
 
 LUKEWARMNESS. THE LOSS OF GRACE. INCONVENIENCE OF 
 LAXITY IN RELIGIOUS HOUSES. 
 
 I. 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 
 
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELl'. 37 
 
 friendship as that of prayer.' 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 com- 
 fort 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 o 
 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,^ 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 evermore ! 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 
 soHtude 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 
 
 I See Way of Perfection, ch. xl. ; but ch. xxv, of the former editions, 
 a See Relation, i. § 18. 
 
38 _ LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VII. 
 
 kind in me which have the appearance of virtue. Yet all 
 the while — I was so vain — I knew how to procure respect 
 for myself 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 myself, or doing anything 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 
 anybody in the monastery in that way, and I never did it ; 
 for our Lord held me back. It seemed to me — for I con- 
 sidered 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 
 everything 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 sincerit)', 
 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 
 
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 39^ 
 
 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 diificult to make people understand this ; it is. 
 necessary our Lord Himself should take the matter- 
 seriously into His 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 be of extremely good inclinations, and God grant 
 that these inclinations 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 them- 
 selves, 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 were going 
 to serve our Lord, have found themselves in ten worlds at 
 once, without knowing what to do, or how to help them- 
 selves. 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. 
 
 g. 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. 
 
40 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VII. 
 
 ■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 imperfection 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 
 fhgir communities more than all the 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 we 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 dis- 
 figure 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, 
 stem and grave, giving me to understand what in my 
 conduct was ofifensive 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 
 
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 41 
 
 impression upon me, that, though it is more than twenty- 
 six years ago,' 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 anything otherwise than with the eyes 
 of the body ; 4 so did Satan too, in that he helped me to 
 think so : he made me understand it to be impossible, and 
 suggested that I had imagined the vision — that it might be 
 Satan himself- — 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 discuss the matter with any one, and as great 
 importunity was used, I went back to my former conversa- 
 tion 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, reputa- 
 tion 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 because 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, 
 something 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, 5 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 ! 
 
 3 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. 
 
 4 See ch. xxvii. § 3. 
 
 5 In the parlour of the monastery of the Incarnation, Avila, a 
 painting of this is preserved to this day {De la Fuente). 
 
42 
 
 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VII. 
 
 with what care and tenderness didst Thou warn me in 
 every way ! and how httle 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 scandaUzed without cause. I 
 have mentioned this in order that my wickedness and the 
 great goodness of God might be understood, and to show 
 how much I deserved 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. 
 
 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 ® — 
 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 : 7 a most common 
 temptation of beginners. With me, however, it had good 
 results. Loving my father so much, I longed to see him 
 in the possession 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* — 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 verj' great consolation to me. He had 
 most grievous trials of diverse kinds ; and he bore them 
 aU with the greatest resignation. He came often to see 
 
 6 Ch. vi. § 4. 7 See Inner Fortress, v. iii. § i. 
 
 8 Ch. i. § I. 
 
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 43 
 
 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, think- 
 ing it an act of greater humihty to abstain. This — I shall 
 speak of it again 9 — was the greatest temptation I ever 
 had, because it very nearly wrought my utter ruin ; •" 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 occasions 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 my infirmities forward as an excuse ; for 
 though I had recovered from that which was so trouble- 
 some, I have always 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 suffering for twenty years from 
 sickness every morning," so that I could not take any 
 food till past mid-day, and even occasionally 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 
 
 9 Ch. xix. §§ 9, 17. 10 See § 2, above. 
 
 " See ch. xi. § 26 ; Inner Fortress, vi. i. § 8, 
 
44 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VII. 
 
 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 
 rn opportunity for it, if we but seek it. I say always; 
 tor 'hough 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 purpose ; 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 them- 
 selves. It is under these 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 
 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 
 Uttle about this. 
 
 21. My father was not the only person whom I pre- 
 vailed upon to practise 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," 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 
 
 * § 16. 
 
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 45 
 
 not to be lost, and that others should serve Him for me. '3 
 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 ; ^* 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, conceal- 
 ing them till he was dead, as if I felt none at all. It 
 seemed as if my ver)' soul were wrenched when I saw 
 him at the point of death — my love for him was 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 ; so also was the advice he gave us after the last 
 anointing, how he charged us to recommend him to God, 
 and to pray 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 conviction 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 
 
 3 See Innsy Fortress, v. iii. § i. 
 4 In 1541, when the Saint was twenty-five years of age (Bouix). 
 
46 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VII. 
 
 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 com- 
 pletely, 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, '5 used 
 to say that he had no doubt he went straight to heaven. '^ 
 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 earnest, and of making me see the 
 perilous state I was in.'? He sent me to Communion 
 once a fortnight ; '^ and I, by degrees beginning to speak 
 to him, told him about my prayer. He charged me never 
 to omit it : that, anyhow, it could not do me anything 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 
 
 ~\vas calling me ; on the other, I was following the world. 
 All the things of God gave me great pleasure ; and I was 
 
 15 F. Vicente Barron {Re/orma, lib. i. ch. xv.). 
 
 16 See ch. xxxviii. § i. 
 
 17 See ch. xix. § 20. 
 
 18 The Spanish editor calls attention to this as a proof of great 
 laxity in those days — that a nun like St. Teresa should be urged to 
 communicate as often, as once in a fortnight. 
 
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 47 
 
 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. 's ^-~. 
 
 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^r^y 
 without shutting up with^ me a thousand vanities at the 
 same time. f—P Spent many yeari~iH~Tfiis~way7"aii(riTm^ 
 now a^toni'shed 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 
 occasions from which God delivered me, and how I threw 
 myself 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 occa- 
 sionally 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 after years I was to speak 
 of His service. His supreme munificence 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 
 possible for me to bear; for Thou knewest well what 
 
 19 See ch. xiii. §§ 7, 8. j 
 
48 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VII. 
 
 would have given me the most pain. Thou didst chastise 
 my sins with great consolations. I do not believe I am 
 sapng foolish things, though it may well be that I am 
 beside myself whenever 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 ungjrateful for 
 those already received, that is to me — and, I believe, to 
 all who have any knowlege or love of God — a fearful kind 
 of torment. W'e 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 
 themselves to prayer, particularly at first, to form Mend- 
 ships, and converse familiarly, with others who are doing 
 the same thing. It is a matter of the last importance, 
 even if it lead only to helping one another by prayer: 
 how much more, seeing 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 them- 
 selves, 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 
 
CH. VII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 49 
 
 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 understanding, 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 
 waj', that I do not see how this point is capable of 
 exaggeration. 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 will 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. 
 But if any one 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 protection among them till he grows strong 
 
 E 
 
■50 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VIII. 
 
 enough not to feel what he may be made to suffer. 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 importance of it. It is very true that 
 I am the most wicked and the basest of all who are bom 
 ■of women ; but I believe that he 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 
 RECOVER WHAT IS LOST. ALL EXHORTED TO PRAY. 
 THE GREAT ADVANTAGE OF PRAYER, EVEN TO THOSE 
 WHO MAY HAVE CEASED FROM IT. 
 
 I. 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 anything 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 on the strong pillar of prayer. 
 
CH. VIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 5 1 
 
 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 what- 
 ever 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 imagined, 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 affec- 
 tions 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 He 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 sup- 
 
52 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VIII. 
 
 plications 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 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 shcJl 
 show hereafter.' 
 
 5. The reason, then, of my telling this at so great a 
 length is that, as I have just said,^ 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 myself ; 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 humiUty ;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,* give us the graces 
 
 I Ch. ix. § 10. 2 § I, above. 3 Ch. vii. § 17; ch. xix. § 9. 
 
 4 Ezech. xviii. 21 : " Si autem impius egerit poenitentiam, . . . vita 
 
 vivet, et non morietur. Omnium iniquitatum ejus . . . non recordabor." 
 
CH. VIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 53 
 
 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 
 advance, nor make an effort to become perfect, so as to 
 merit 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 Loi^d, 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 friendship, 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 
 
54 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VIII. 
 
 should permit 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. So it is, 
 
 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 hve. 
 
 lo. 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 imdertaken, 
 rather than prepare myself for prayer by self-recollection. 
 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 sUght, 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 
 
CH. VIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 55 
 
 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 with me — and that very often against my will ? for- 
 I did violence to myself, or rather our Lord Himself did. 
 violence to me. 
 
 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,5 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 hindrances in the way, and take no pains whatever - 
 
 5 See ch. x. § 2, and ch. xi. § 22. 
 
56 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. VIII. 
 
 lo 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 
 ■understand 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 Himself, 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 conversion 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 our- 
 selves. 
 
 15. Oh, that I 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 sorrj' 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 
 
CH. IX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 57 
 
 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 whole trust in His Majesty, and of not 
 thoroughly distrusting 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 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. 
 
 I. My soul was 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 went into the oratory, that I saw a picture which 
 they had put by there, and which had been procured for 
 a certain feast observed in the house. It was a repre- 
 
58 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. IX. 
 
 sentation 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 suflFered 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 Mag- 
 dalene, and very frequently used to think of her con- 
 version — especially when I went to Communion. As I 
 knew for certain that our Lord was then within me, I 
 used to place myself 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 con- 
 fidence 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 believe that this was of great service to me, 
 because I have grown better ever since.' 
 
 4. This was my method of prayer: as I could not 
 make reflections with my understanding, I contrived to 
 picture Christ as within me ; ^ and I used to find myself 
 the better for thinking of those mysteries of His Ufe during 
 which He was most lonely. It seemed to me that the 
 being alone and afilicted, 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 
 particular 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 He 
 endured there ; I wished, if it had been possible, to wipe 
 away that painful sweat from His face ; but I remember 
 
 I In the year 1555 [Boiiix). 
 " Seech, iv. § 11; ch. x. § i. 
 
CH. IX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 59 
 
 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 recommended 
 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 
 te 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 also to look on fields^ 
 water, and flowers.^ In them I saw traces of the Creator — 
 I mean, that the sight of these things was 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.* 
 
 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 them- 
 selves so as to become thereby recollected. I was able 
 
 3 See Relation, i, § 12. 4 See ch, iv. § 11. 
 
6o LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. IX. 
 
 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 St. 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 had a very great devotion to St. Augustine, 
 because the monastery in which I lived when I was yet in 
 the world was of his Order ;5 and also because he had 
 been a sinner — for I used to find gfreat 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 before^ — our Lord had called them 
 but once, and they never relapsed; 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 Con- 
 fessions, I thought I saw myself there described, and began 
 to recommend myself greatly to this glorious Saint. 
 When I came to his conversion, and read how he heard 
 
 5 Ch. ii. § 8. 6 In the Prologue. 
 
CH. IX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 6l 
 
 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 
 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 
 njyself 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 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 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 
 consolation, being at the time in great aridities. When 
 I considered 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 
 
62 LIFE OF ST. TERESA, [CH. X. 
 
 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 dispositions, who have sought with all their 
 might to attain to true devotion — ^that is, not to offend 
 God, and to be disposed 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 ; never- 
 theless, I believe that they did me some service; for, 
 specially after those two occasions of great compunction 
 and sorrow of heart,'' accompanied by tesirs, of which 
 I am speaking, I began in an especial way 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.^ 
 
 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 WRITINGS SECRET, BECAUSE OF 
 THE SPECIAL GRACES OF OUR LORD TO HER, WHICH THEY 
 HAD COMMANDED HER TO DESCRIBE. 
 
 I. I USED to have at times, as I have said,' though it used 
 to pass quickly away — certain commencements of that 
 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,^ and sometimes even when I was 
 
 7 § I. 8 Ch. iv. § lo. 
 
 1 The Saint interrupts her history here to enter on the difficult 
 questions of mystical theology, and resumes it in ch. xxiii. 
 
 2 Ch. ix. § 4. 
 
CH. X.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 63 
 
 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 reflec- 
 tions — 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 under- 
 stands nothing whatever 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 efibrts : 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 of 
 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 with 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 consol/ition which He ministers to the soul of 
 seeing itself weeping for so great a Lord. I am not sur- 
 prised ; 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 
 of heaven must be. As the vision of the saints, which is 
 measured by their merits there, reaches no further than 
 
64 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. X. 
 
 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 which 
 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 pur- 
 chased with all the labours of the world, because of the 
 great gain it brings us. And what greater gain can we 
 have than some testimony of our having pleased God ? 
 Let him, then, who shall have attained to this, give praise 
 unto God — acknowledge himself 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.3 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 recognize 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.'* 
 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 
 
 3 Ch. XXX. § 10. 4 See ch. xiii. § 5. 
 
CH. X.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 65 
 
 will do so if we walk in simplicity before God, aiming at 
 pleasing 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 He made us for every one 
 of us now alive — why should it not be lawful for me to 
 discern, confess, and consider often that I was once accus- 
 tomed to speak of 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 
 remember 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 servants 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 con- 
 fess 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 possible, 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 
 
•66 LIFE OF ST. TERESA, [CH. X. 
 
 hings 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 that are above. It is by these gifts that our 
 Lord gives us that strength which we through our sins 
 have lost. 
 
 g. A man wiU 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 we go after that which we 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 wicked, 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 everything. 
 
 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 him 5 to whom I send it destroy it ; for 
 he knows better than I do what is wrong in it. I entreat 
 him, for th^ 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.^ 
 Certainly, I speak in all sincerity, so far as I understand 
 myself. Such publication will give me great comfort. 
 
 1 1 . 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 
 describes, 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 7 have authority 
 •enough to approve of whatever right things I may say, 
 
 5 F. Pedro Ybanez, of the Order of St. Dominic. 
 6 See ch. xxxi. § 17. 7 See ch. xv. § 12. 
 
GH. X.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 67 
 
 should our Lord give me the grace to do so ; and if I 
 should say anything 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 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.^ 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, I should say anything 
 that is right, our Lord will have it said for some good pur- 
 pose ; 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, v/hen I am a woman, and a 
 wicked one ? 
 
 13. So, then, everything 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 will 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 
 
 8 See ch. xiv. § 12. 
 
68 LIFE OF ST. TERESA, [CH. XI. 
 
 I, as I shall show hereafter,9 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 
 certain hindrances, which, as I understand it, keep men 
 from advancing on this road — and of other things which 
 are dangerous, as our Lord has taught me by experience. 
 I have also discussed the matter with men of great learning, 
 with 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 advanced 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 XL 
 
 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. 
 
 I. 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 
 
 9 See ch. xxiv. § 6. 
 
CH. XI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 69 
 
 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 deter- 
 mined 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 com- 
 plaint should have been, why is it we do not ? for the fault 
 is wholly our own that 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, how- 
 ever, we did what we could, not clinging to anything upon 
 earth, but having all our thoughts and conversation in 
 Heaven, I believe that this blessing would quickly be 
 given us, provided 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 possession. 
 
 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 
 superfluous : 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. We 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 
 
70 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XL 
 
 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, b)' 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 consolations. 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 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 perseveres. 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 . first, to keep it back from be- 
 ginning 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 awa)'. 
 
 8. Speaking, then, of their beginnings who are deter- 
 mined to follow after this good, and to succeed in their 
 enterprise — ^what I began to say' 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 
 
 I Ch. X. § I. 
 
CH. XI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 'JX 
 
 first ; for it is they who toil, our Lord, indeed, giving 
 them strength. In the other degrees of prayer, there is 
 more of fruition ; although they who 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 
 spirituality 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 either read or heard of this com- 
 parison ; but as my memory is bad, I know not where, nor 
 on what occasion ; however, I am satisfied with it for my 
 present purpose.'' 
 
 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 practice 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, refresh- 
 ing to our Lord, so that He may come often for His 
 pleasure into this garden, and delight Himself in the 
 midst of these virtues. 
 
 1 1 . 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 
 
 z Viii St. Bernard, in Caniic. Serm. 30, n. 7, ed. Ben. 
 
72 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XI. 
 
 ■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 
 T)y 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 occasion- 
 ally 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 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 msLny times, 
 ■beginners as well as those more advanced ; all, however, 
 must not do so equally, as I shall show hereafter.3 Begin. 
 
 3 Ch. xiii. § 23. 
 
CH. XI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 73 
 
 ners 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, how- 
 ever, 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 tenderness 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 would give it up altogether, if he did not remem- 
 ber 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 under- 
 standing is drawing water out of the well. 
 
 i5. 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 gireat an 
 Emperor ; and as he knows that he is pleasing Him in 
 the matter — and his purpose must not be 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 
 
74 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XI. 
 
 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.* 
 
 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.' 
 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 a great recompense, even in 
 this life; for it is verj- 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 rev/arded. 
 
 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,* and help Him to carry the Cross, before 
 He intrusts 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 
 
 4 See ch. xv. § 17. 
 
 5 Epist. 22, ad -Eustochium : " O quoties ego ipse in eremo consti- 
 tutus, et in ilia vasta solitudine quae exusta solis ardoribus horridum 
 monachis praestat habitaculum putabam me Romanis interesse deliciis. 
 Sedebam solas. . . . Horrebant sacco membra deformia. . . . lUe igitur 
 ego, qui ob Gehennae metum tali me carcere damnaveram, scorpionum 
 tantum socius et ferarum, saepe choris intereram puellarum. pallebant 
 era jejuniis, et mens desideriis aestuabat in frigido corpore, et ante 
 hominem sua jam came praemortuum sola libidinum incendia bullie- 
 bant." 
 
 6 St. Matt. XX. 22 : " Potestis bibere calicem ? " 
 
CH. XI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 75 
 
 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 whithersoever 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 
 none — what is that to me ? Do Thou, O Lord, accom- 
 plish 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 deter- 
 mined not to care much, neither to rejoice nor to be 
 greatly afflicted, whether sweetness and tenderness fail it, 
 
76 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XI. 
 
 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 dis- 
 gusted 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 as an imperfection : they are not advancing 
 in liberty of spirit, but shrinking like cowards from the 
 assault. 
 
 22. It is not so much to beginners that I say this — 
 though I do insist upon it, because it is of great import- 
 ance to them that they should begin with this liberty and 
 resolution — as to others, of whom there are manj-, 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 wiU is feeding and gather- 
 ing strength, and they know it not. 
 
CH. XI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 77 
 
 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 afterwards 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 discretion must be 
 used, in order to ascertain whether ill-health be the occa- 
 sion or not. The poor soul must not be stifled. Let those 
 who thus suffer understand that they are ill ; a change 
 should be inade in the hour of prayer, and oftentimes 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 work ; 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 — 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 
 
78 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XII, 
 
 the confessor shall advise. Altogether, experience is a 
 great matter, and it makes us understand what is con- 
 venient for us. Let God be served in all things — His 
 yoke is sweet ■,^ 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^ — 
 and though I repeat it often, it matters not ; it is of great 
 importance that no one should distress himself on account 
 of aridities, or because his thoughts are restless and dis- 
 tracted ; 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 
 will see how our Lord will help him to carry it, how joy- 
 fully he will advance, 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 
 \'irtues by means thereof. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHAT WE CAN OURSELVES DO. THE EVIL OF DESIRIXG TO 
 ATTAIN TO SUPERNATURAL STATES BEFORE OUR LORD 
 CALLS US. 
 
 I . 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 think- 
 ing of, and pondering on, the sufferings of our Lord for 
 our sakes moves us to compassion, and the sorrow and 
 tears which result therefrom are sweet. The thought of 
 the blessedness we hope for, of the love our Lord bore us, 
 and of His resurrection, kindle within us a joy which is 
 
 7 St. Matt. xi. 30 : " Jugum enim meum suave est." 
 8 § 18. 
 
CH. XII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 7g 
 
 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 resolutions 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,'^ a most excellent work, and profit- 
 able for those who are in this state, because the imder- 
 standing 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 neces- 
 sities, and complain 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 will 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.^ 
 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 
 
 1 Arte de servir a Dios, by Rodrigue de Solis, friar of the Augustinian 
 Order {Bouix). Arte para servir a Dios, by Fra Alonso de Madrid {De 
 la Fuente). 
 
 2 Ch. xi. §§ 20, 25. 
 
8o LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XII. 
 
 as for the last states, it secures us against those risks 
 which the devil may occasion. 
 
 5. This, then, is what we can do. He who would pass 
 out of this state, and upraise his spirit, in order to taste 
 consolations denied him, will, in my opinion, lose both the 
 one and the other.3 These consolations being super- 
 natural, 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, 
 everything 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 wisdom. I never did this myself, because I had not 
 the capacity for it — as I said before ;+ 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.s 
 
 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 
 
 3 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). 
 
 4 Ch. iv. § 10. 5 Ch. xxxiv. § 9. 
 
CH. XII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 8r 
 
 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^ — the 
 understanding ceases from its acts, because God suspends 
 it — as I shall explain by and by, if I can ; 7 and God give 
 me the grace to do so. We must neither imagine nor 
 think that we can of ourselves bring about this suspen- 
 sion. That is what I say must not be done ; nor must we 
 allow the understanding 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 make it cease from its 
 acts. He puts before it that which astonishes and occu- 
 pies it : so that, without making any reflections, it shall 
 comprehend in a moment^ more than we could comprehend' 
 in many years with all the efforts in the world. 
 
 g. 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 unpunished — 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 ;9' 
 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. 
 
 lo. For many years I read much, and understood 
 nothing ; and for a long time, too, though God gave me 
 understanding 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 everything; 
 
 6 Ch. X. § I. 7Ch. xvi.§4. 8 " En un credo." 9 § 5. 
 
 G 
 
82 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XII. 
 
 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 whatever, 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 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 understand with aU distinctness in a moment, 
 and also enabled me to express myself, so that my con- 
 fessors 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 
 because 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 wiU 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 ! 
 
CH. Xiri.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 83 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 OF CERTAIN TEMPTATIONS OF SATAN. INSTRUCTIONS 
 RELATING THERETO. 
 
 I. 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 un- 
 constrained ; for there 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, were 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 now' — 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 confi- 
 dence in themselves. I never saw one of those lag behind 
 
 I Ch. xi. § 24. 
 
84 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIII. 
 
 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 under- 
 take 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 
 St. Paul : " That all things are possible in God."^ I saw 
 clearly that of myself I could do nothing. This was of 
 great service to me. So also was the saying of St. Augus- 
 tine : " Give me, O Lord, what Thou commandest, and 
 command what Thou wilt." 3 I was often thinking how 
 St. Peter lost nothing by throwing himself into the sea, 
 though he was afterwards afraid.+ These first resolutions 
 are a great matter — although it is necessary in the begin- 
 ning that we should be very reserved, controlled by the dis- 
 cretion 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 humility. 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 
 
 = Philipp. iv. 13; " Omnia possum in Eo." 
 
 3 Confess, x. ch. 29 : " Da quod jubes, et jube quod vis." 
 
 4 St. Matt. xiv. 30 : " Videns vero ventum validum, timuit." 
 
CH. XIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 85 
 
 — to retire into the desert, where he could not sleep, nor 
 find anything to eat ; or, indeed, to undertake any austeri- 
 ties 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 con- 
 tempt — to make light of honour, and be detached from 
 our possessions. 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 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 
 goodness had not taught me another and a shorter road. 
 
 8. Though, in the matter of desires, I always had 
 generous ones ; but I laboured, as I said before,? to make 
 my 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 
 
 5 Ch. vii. §§ 27, 30. 
 
86 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIII. 
 
 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 
 solitude 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 convince 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 since I have ceased to 
 look after my ease and comforts. It is of great import- 
 ance 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. 
 
 ^ II. There is another temptation, which is very com- 
 mon : when people begin to have pleasure in the rest and 
 the fruit of prayer, they will have everybody 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 
 
CH. XIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 8/ 
 
 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,^ I made 
 others apply themselves to prayer, to be a source of temp- 
 tation and disorder ; for, on the one hand, they heard me 
 say great things of the blessedness of prayer, and, on the 
 other, saw how poor I was in virtue, notwithstanding my 
 prayer. They had good reasons on their side, and after- 
 wards 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 
 prevail 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 manj' persons have profited, as I shall show 
 hereafter.7 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
 6 ch. vii. § 16. 
 7 See ch. xxxi. § 7, and ch. xxxix. § 14. 
 
S8 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIII. 
 
 pray. The greatest evil of all is their thinking this an 
 act of virtue, of perfection, and of a great zeal for God. 
 1 am not speaking of the pain which public sins occasion, 
 if they be habitual in any community, 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, there- 
 fore, 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, 
 1 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 faihngs. 
 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 our- 
 selves ; 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, 
 eliciting 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 httle 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, I say that they are not to spend the whole time 
 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 
 
CH. XIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 89 
 
 have said,^ 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 support for the life of the 
 soul, and they have many other advantages also. 
 
 18. I will explain myself further ; for the doctrine of 
 prayer is difficult, and, without a director, very hard to 
 understand. Though I would willingly be concise, and 
 though a mere hint is enough for his clear intellect who 
 has commanded 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 thwith 
 who begin only with books ; for there is a strange difFep^' 
 ence 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 dolours 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 everyone the 
 beginning, the middle, and the end : a most excellent and 
 safe way, until our Lord shall guide them to other super- 
 natural ways. 
 
 20. I say to all, because there are many souls who 
 make greater progress by meditation on other subjects 
 than on the Sacred Passion ; for as there are many man- 
 sions in heaven, so there are also many roads leading 
 thither. Some persons advance by considering themselves 
 
 8 Ch. xii. § 3. 
 
go LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIII. 
 
 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 con- 
 tinual 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 transgress the commandments it 
 "".' -ives. I have met with souls cramped and tormented, 
 y.'^ause 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 under- 
 stand the spirit of their penitents afflict them soul and 
 body, and hinder their progress.^ 
 
 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," 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 
 
 9 See St. John of the Cross, Living Flame, pp. 267, 278 — 284, EngL 
 trans. 
 
 10 See ch. xv. § 20. 
 
CH. XIII.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. gi 
 
 our sinsj 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 direc- 
 tor 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 cannot be had together, the first two are the 
 most important, because learned men may be found with 
 whom we can communicate 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 accompanied with prayer. Learning is a 
 great thing, for it teaches us who know so little, and en- 
 lightens 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 
 failing that I could never make myself understood — as I 
 said before" — 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 
 
 " § 18. 
 
g2 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIII. 
 
 woman, he will tell her that it is better for her to give 
 herself unto prayer, when 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 everything may be done as it 
 ought to be done ; he has no light himself, and can there- 
 fore give none to others, however much he may wish to 
 do so. 
 
 26. Though learning does not seem necessary for dis- 
 cretion, 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 wiU 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 with- 
 
CH. XIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 93 
 
 out 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 
 mistake, if he is in religion, unless he finds a director of 
 this kind, because of the obedience due to his own 
 superior. His director may be deficient in the three 
 requisites I speak of," and that will be no slight cross, 
 without voluntarily subjecting 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 we 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. 
 
 12 Prudence, experience, and learning ; see § 24. 
 
94 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIII. 
 
 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.'3 May it 
 please our Lord to hold them in His hand, and help them, 
 that they may help us. 
 
 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, '+ the medi- 
 tation on Christ bound to the pillar, it is well 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 accom- 
 pany 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 advantages 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. 
 
 '3 Dan. xii. 3 : " Qui autem docti fuerint, fulgebunt quasi splendor 
 firmamenti." 
 " § 19- 
 
CH. XIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 95 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE SECOND STATE OF PRAYER. ITS SUPERNATURAL 
 CHARACTER. 
 
 I. 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 
 continually at work. This, then, is what I am now going 
 to describe ; and I apply it to the prayer called the prayer 
 of quiet. 
 
 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 
 understanding, 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 wgll what it is to be the 
 captive of Him it loves. O my Jesus and my Lord, how 
 pressing now is Thy love ! ' It binds our love in bonds so 
 straitly, that it is not in its power at this moment to love 
 anything else but Thee. 
 
 4. The other two faculties help the will, that it may 
 
 ' 2 Cor. V. 14: "Charitas enim Christi urget nos." 
 
96 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIV. 
 
 render itself capable of the fruition of so great a good ; 
 nevertheless, 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.* For if it tried to make them recol- 
 lected, 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 
 ba^k. 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 to it that of which it has the fhiition, does it 
 harm. The will, therefore, should be careful to deal with 
 them as I shall explain. Everj^hing 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 supphes, 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 bliss- 
 fulness of glory is communicated to it. This, I believe, 
 is it that makes the virtues grow the more, and also to 
 draw nearer to essenticJ virtue, God Himself, from \\'hom 
 all virtues proceed ; for His Majesty has begun to com- 
 municate Himself to this soul, and will have it feel how 
 He is communicating Himself. 
 
 = See ch. x\-ii. § 12 ; Way 0/ Perfection, ch. liii., but xxxi. of the old 
 editions. 
 
CH. XIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 97 
 
 7. As soon as the soul has arrived thus far, it begins 
 to lose the desire of earthly things,3 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 after- 
 wards, 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. 
 
 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 under- 
 stands 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 necessary for many things. Here, indeed, 
 learning would be very much to the purpose, in order to 
 
 3 See Relation, i. § 12. 
 
g8 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIV. 
 
 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 Ukely 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 whatever 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. 
 
 ID. I should like them to explain this, because it is 
 a principal point, and because a soul, when om: 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 souls who find themselves 
 alone when they come to this state ; for though I read 
 many spiritual books, wherein this very matter is dis- 
 cussed, 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. 
 
 II. I wish much that our Lord would help me to 
 describe 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, known 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 transform himself into an angel of light;* 
 
 * 2 Cor. xi. 14: "Ipse enim Satanas transfigurat se in angelum 
 lucis." 
 
CH. XIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 
 
 99 
 
 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 
 Himself; 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 ; 5 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 advantage 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 afterwards I do not know how I came to 
 speak so accurately.^ 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 
 
 5 See ch. x. § 11. As that passage refers probably to the monastery 
 of the Incarnation, this must refer to that of St.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. 
 
 ' 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 
 Bollandists 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 libros, facies ejus resplendebat." In 
 the information taken in Granada, the Mother Anne of the Incarnation 
 says she saw the Saint one night, while writing the Fortyess of the Soul, 
 with her face shining ; and Mary of St. Francis deposes to the same 
 effect in the informations taken in Medina (Ds la Fiiente, vol. ii. pp. 
 389. 392)- 
 
100 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIV. 
 
 illustration 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 preserve 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 — everything 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 know- 
 ledge that no efforts of ours are sufficient, if God with- 
 holds 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 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.7 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 
 
 ' Prov. viii. 31 : " Delicise meae esse cum filiis hominum." 
 
CH. XIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. lOI 
 
 upon it the like graces and consolations, and wherein it 
 understands that Thou delightest to be with it, can yet 
 fall back and offend Thee after so many favours, and such 
 great demonstrations 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, 
 
 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 immeasurable ! But even out of 
 my ingratitude Thine infinite 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 
 
 1 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 myself, without Thee, I could do nothing, 
 
 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 
 
 1 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 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. 
 
I02 
 
 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XV 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 INSTRUCTIONS FOR THOSE WHO HAVE ATTAINED TO THE 
 PRAYER OF QUIET. MANY ADVANCE SO FAR, BUT FEW GO 
 FARTHER. 
 
 I. 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 verj- great joy 
 and repose of the faculties, and most sweet delight, wherein 
 the soul is established.' 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 St. Peter.^ 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.s 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 recoUectioH 
 and quiet,'* 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 wiU abides in imion 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, notwithstand- 
 ing all the efforts of the memory and the understanding, 
 they cannot rob it of its delight and joy 5 — yea, rather, it 
 helps without anj- 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, 
 
 ' See Way of Perfection, ch. liii., but ch. xxxi. of the old edition. 
 
 = St. Matt. xvii. 4 : " Bonum est nos hie esse." ' See ch. xvii. § 6. 
 
 ■• Ch. x. § 1. 5 Ch. xiv. §§ 3, 4. 
 
CH. XV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. IO3 
 
 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 shows 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 short- 
 comings 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 is 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 blindness 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 
 themselves, 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 is 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 praying, they 
 
104 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XV. 
 
 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.^ 
 
 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 sweetness supplied by Satan, or brought 
 about by ourselves, produces 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, how- 
 ever much we try to make the fire burn, in order to obtain 
 this sweetness, it does not appear that we do anything 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 placed — 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,^ 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, 
 especially in these days, when the friends of God should 
 be strong, in prder that they may support the weak. Those 
 who discern in themselves this grace, must look upon 
 
 ' Ch. i. § II. 7 Ch. xviii. § 5, and ch. xxi. § 9. « § 3. 
 
CH. XV.] WRITTEN PY HERSELF. I05 
 
 themselves as such friends, if they would fulfil the law 
 which even the honourable friendship of the world respects ; 
 if not, as I said just now,9 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 
 understanding comes 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 con- 
 trol 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 
 recollected, 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 reflec- 
 
 ' §5- 
 
I06 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XV. 
 
 tions and search for reasons, it v/ill 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 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 interces- 
 sion for the Church, for those who had 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 a 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 
 commanded me to write,'" 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 itself 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 under- 
 stand a word of what I read in Latin, and specially in the 
 Psalms, when in the prayer of quiet, not only to under- 
 stand the Latin as if it were Spanish, but, still more, to 
 take a delight in dwelling on the meaning of that I knew 
 
 " Ch. X. § 12. 
 
CH. XV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I07 
 
 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. 
 The time will come when they may make use of it in the 
 service of our Lord — when they that possess it will 
 appreciate 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 striving 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," 
 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 difficult 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 
 endeavours of our own, in the commencement of devotion 
 which God gives ; and we seek of ourselves, as I said 
 before,'^ to pass onwards to this quiet of the will. Then, 
 no effect whatever is produced ; it is quickly over, and 
 
 " St. Luke xviii. 13 : "Nolebat nee oculos ad coelum levare." 
 " Ch. xii. § 5. 
 
108 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XV. 
 
 aridity is the result. 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.'s 
 
 i6. 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 wiU 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,'^ I insisted upon it that the 
 great aflfair of souls is, when they begin to pray, to begin 
 also to detach themselves from every kind of joy, and to 
 enter on it resolved only on helping to carry the cross of 
 Christ like good soldiers, willing to serve their King 
 
 '3 "Firmezaen laverdad." Francisco de St. Thomas, in his Merf«?<i 
 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, " defeetus lucis in 
 intelleetu, et firmitatis in voluntate." 
 
 ■« Ch. xi. § 16. 
 
CH. XV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. lOQ 
 
 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. 
 
 1 8. 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 
 low ; 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 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 recommend it so much to them ; for they will have need 
 of it — even those who have attained to great heights of 
 prayer — at certain 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, '5 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 
 
 15 Ch. xiii. § 23. 
 
110 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XV. 
 
 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 oflfending God, and from the 
 commission of sin, to make use of the first armour of 
 prayer, to call to mind how everything is coming to an 
 ■ end, that there is a heaven and a hell, and to make use 
 of other reflections of that nature, when they find them- 
 selves 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."'^ 
 He is our example ; and whosoever follows His counsels 
 only to please Him has nothing to fear. In the improve- 
 ment which they detect in themselves, 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 m_ay 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 
 comparison with that real humility arising out of the light 
 which our Lord here gives us, and which begets a con- 
 fusion of face that undoes us. The knowledge with which 
 God supplies us, in order that we may know that of 
 ourselves we have no good in us, is perfectly apprehended — 
 and the more perfectly, 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 
 
 i6 St. Matt. xvi. 24 ; " ToUat crucem suam et sequatur Me." 
 
CH. XV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. Ill 
 
 to suffer everything. A certain security, joined with 
 humihty and fear concerning our salvation, casts out 
 servile fear at once from the soul, and in its place plants 
 a loyal fear '7 of more perfect growth.'^ 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 everything ; 
 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 naturally, the remem- 
 brance of the mercies of God makes it turn to 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 spirit '9 — it has cost me much labour to be clear 
 about them — I do not treat of them here. I believe, too, 
 that, with the help of God, I shall be able to speak 
 somewhat to the point, because — setting aside the ex- 
 perience 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. 
 
 J7 " Fiel temor." In the previous editions it ^as filial. 18 Ch. xi. § i. 
 19 See ch. xxv. 
 
112 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XVI. 
 
 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. 
 
 I. Let US now speak of the third water wherewith this 
 garden is watered, — water running from a river or firom 
 a brook, — whereby the garden is watered with verj- much 
 less trouble, although there is some in directing the water.^ 
 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, nor yet understanding how they 
 are at work. The pleasure, 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 bUss. 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 it 
 were, to aU the things of this world, and a fruition of God. 
 I know of no other words wherebj' to describe it or to 
 explain it ; neither does the soul then know what to do, — 
 for it knows not whether to speak or be silent, whether it 
 should laugh or weep. It is a glorious foUy, a heavenly 
 madness, wherein true wisdom is acquired ; and to the 
 soul a kind of fruition most fuU of dehght.^ 
 
 2. It is now some five or six years, I believe, since oiu: 
 
 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 
 St. Thomas, Medula Mysiica, tr. iv. ch. xii. p. 208). 
 
 2 See St. John of the Cross, Spirit. Canticle, stanza x\-ii. vol. ii. p. 98, 
 !Engl. trans. 
 
CH. XVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. II3 
 
 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 
 believe, why our Lord, to-day, after Communion, admitted 
 me to this state of prayer, 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. Certainly, I was 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 under- 
 stand 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 absorbed 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 power 
 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 understanding 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 
 
114 L'^^ °^ ST. TERESA, [CH. XVI. 
 
 joy ; 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.^ 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 ; ♦ and I wish all had it, particularly 
 those who are sinners like mj-self. 
 
 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 ones who, though she was no poet, 
 yet composed, without any preparation, certain stanzas, 
 full of feeling, most expressive 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 complained 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 pleasure, 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 oodness, — and it is a mercy I 
 Jiever deserved, — grant, I beseech Thee, that all those 
 
 3 St. Luke XV. 9 : " Convocat arnicas et vicinas." 
 
 4 Foundations, ch. xxvii. § 16. 
 
 5 The Saint herself {De la Fuente). 
 
CH. XVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. II5 
 
 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 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,s 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,^ I do not believe that I am the person who 
 is speaking ; I seem to be dreaming the things I see, and 
 I wish I might never see any but people ill, as I am now. 
 
 6 This was either F. Ibaiiez or the Inquisitor Soto, if the expression 
 did not occur in the first Life. F. Dom. Baiies struck out " son," and 
 wrote "fatherj" in its place, omitting the words, "so humble is he " 
 [iPe la Fuente). 
 
 7 See § 3, above. 
 
Il5 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XVI. 
 
 I beseech you, my father, let us all be mad, for the love of 
 Him who for ovu: sakes suffered men to say of Him that 
 He was mad.^ 
 
 11. You, my father, say that you wish me well. I 
 wish you would prove it by disposing yourself so that 
 God may bestow this grace upon you ; for I see very few 
 people who have not too much sense for everything they 
 have to do: and it may be that I have more than anybody 
 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 secret 9 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." 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 bum like that of the Apostles, but I do wish it 
 
 8 St. John X. 2o : " Dsemoniuin habet et insanit." 
 
 9 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 Lnther. Some nuns in Valladolid 
 were imprisoned, Cazalla strangled, and his body burnt, in 1559 {De la 
 Fuente). 
 
 10 Father Banes \vrote here on the margin of the Saint's MS. : 
 " Legant praedicatores " {De la Fuente). 
 
CHXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. II7 
 
 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 Hfe, in the desertion of its honours, in being utterly 
 indifferent whether we lose or gain anything or everything, 
 provided the truth be told and maintained for the glory of 
 God ; for he who is courageouly 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. 
 
 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 everything 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. 
 
 I. 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 con- 
 senting 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, 
 
I r8 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XVII. 
 
 have been told — to abandon itself into the arms of God 
 altogether ; if He will 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 
 without any fatiguing of the understanding, except that, 
 as it seems to me, it is as if amazed in beholding our Lord 
 taking 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 fragrance ; for when God raises a soul up to 
 this state, it can do all this, and much more, — for these 
 ire 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 
 fatiguing 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 wiU of our Lord, may derive its sustenance 
 from its garden. But He allows it not to divide the finiit 
 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 suppUes it, — lest it should be maintaining 
 others, feeding them at its own cost, and itself perhaps 
 dying of hunger.' 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 
 
 ' See ch. xix. § 5. 
 
CH. XVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. II9, 
 
 flowers 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 heavenly 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 th6 fruition of, the great work He 
 is doing then. It happens at times, and indeed very 
 often, that, the will 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,* 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.3 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 elsewhere. It is as if we were speaking to one 
 person, and another speaking to us at the same time,, 
 while we ourselves are not perfectly attentive either to the 
 
 s Ch. XV. § JL. 
 
 3 See Relation, viii. § 6; and Way of Perfection, ch. liii., but ch. xxxi. 
 of.former editions. See also Concept, of the Love of God, ch. vii. 
 
120 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XVII. 
 
 one or the other. It is a state that is most easily ascer- 
 tained, and one, when attained 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 everything 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 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 : because His 
 Majesty has bestowed it upon some person living who is 
 to make us profit by it. 
 
 8. This union, of which 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 
 
CH. XVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 121 
 
 many things, that he knows not where to look — one object 
 puts another out of sight, and none of them leaves any 
 impression behind. 
 
 g. 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 everything 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 dissipated 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.4 
 
 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 imagination 
 assail it with such force, that it cannot prevail against 
 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 anywhere, 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. 
 
 1 1 . 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 
 
 4 See Relation, viii. § 17. 
 
122 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XVII. 
 
 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 : s 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 on 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, supernaturally 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 
 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.^ 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 
 person 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 ,7 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 
 
 5 Ch. xiv. § 4. See also Way of Perfection, ch. liii., but ch. xxxi. of 
 the old editions. 
 
 6 Ch. xiv. § 6. ' § 7- 
 
CH. XVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I23 
 
 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 XVni. 
 
 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. 
 
 I. May our Lord teach me words whereby I may in some 
 measure describe the fourth water.' 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 
 altogether. We may thus speak, seeing that to the world 
 it is really dead. But, as I have said,^ 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 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 anything else, whether outward or inward. 
 
 3. The senses were permitted before, as I have said,3 
 
 I See ch. xi. § 4. 
 2 Ch. xvi. §§ 5, 6. 3 Ch. xvii. § 5. 
 
124 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XVIII. 
 
 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. Everything 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 givest like Thyself. O infinite 
 Munificence ! — how magnificent 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 any way at all for me to go on which 
 is not a going back ? For, as to giving Thee thanks for 
 
CH. XVIli.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I25 
 
 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,* 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 remember 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 becomes a ground for 
 undervaluing them, when Thou puttest them in the power 
 of one so wretched, so vile, so frail, so miserable, 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 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 
 
 4 § 4- 
 
126 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XVIII. 
 
 me often to utter. I saw afterwards my own foolishness 
 and want of humility ; for our Lord knoweth well what is 
 expedient, 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 an3^hing 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 ex- 
 perience 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.s 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 ever can possibly 
 be found, it is not to be wondered at that I may be speak- 
 ing 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 
 
 5 See ch. xx. § 10 ; and Relation, viii. § ii> 
 
CH. XVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 127 
 
 it more impossible for me to 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 obedience ! it can 
 do everything ! God enlightened my understanding — at one 
 time suggesting the words, at another showing 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.^ 
 
 11. What I am saying is the simple truth ; and there- 
 fore 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 ail the possible trials of this life. 
 
 14. The soul, while thus seeking after God, is conscious, 
 
 6 See ch. xiv. g 12. 
 
128 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XVIII. 
 
 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 are open, they are as if they saw nothing ; nor 
 is reading possible, — ^the very letters seem strange, and 
 cannot be distinguished, — ^the letters, indeed, are visible, 
 but, as the understanding furnishes no help, all reading 
 is impracticable, though seriously attempted. The ear 
 hears ; but what is heard is not comprehended. The 
 senses are of no use whatever, except to hinder the soul's 
 firuition ; 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 jo)-. Great and most perceptible, also, is the out- 
 ward 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 iU 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 effiscts 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 
 
 X)rdeT to leave them greater. 
 
 16. The truth is, it passes away so quickly in the 
 beginning — 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.'' The truth of the 
 
 7 See Anton, a Sp. Sancto, Director. Mystic, tr. iv. § 9, n. 72. 
 
CH. XVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I29 
 
 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 them- 
 selves once more. 
 
 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; 
 interiorly. 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 communi- 
 cated, and had risen from the very prayer of which L 
 am speaking. I am 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.^ 
 
 8 Thomas a Jesu, De Contemplatione Divina, lib. v. c. xiii. : " Quasi 
 dicat : Cum intellectus non possit Dei immeusam illam claritatem et 
 incomprehensibilem plenitudinem comprehendere, hoc ipsum est illant 
 conspicere ac inteUigere, intelligere se non posse intellectu cognoscere ; 
 quod quidem nihil aliud est quam Deum sub ratione incomprehensibi- 
 litatis 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 
 operaretur intellectus, respondit [Christus] illi, cum non possit com- 
 
 J 
 
130 LIl'E OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XVIH. 
 
 ig. 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.s their operations cannot be 
 traced. If the soul is 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 remem- 
 bered 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 understands 
 not how it loves ; the understanding, if it understands, 
 does not understand how it understands — at least, it can 
 comprehend nothing of that it understands : it does not 
 understand, as it seems to me, because, as I said just now, 
 this cannot 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 was in all 
 things : '° 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 un- 
 learned 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 St. 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. 
 
 prehendere quod intelligit, est non intelligere intelligendo : turn quia 
 prse claritate nimia quodammodo offuscatur intellectus, unde prae 
 -altissima et supereminentissima Dei cognitione videtur anima potius 
 X)eum ignorare quam cognoscere." 
 9 Ch. X. § I, and ch. xviii. § 16. 
 JO See Inner Fortress, v. ch. i. § 11. 
 
CH. XIX.] WRITTEN B.Y HERSELF. I31 
 
 I 
 
 21. It is to be observed and understood that this 
 water from heaven, — this greatest grace of our Lor4, — 
 always leaves in the soul the greatest fruits, as I shall;ihow 
 show. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE 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. 
 
 I. 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 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 heaven ' 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 now hewn in pieces for God, it would be a 
 great consolation to it. This is the time of resolutions, 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 
 I See ch. xx. § 2. 
 
132 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIX. 
 
 retaining this grace, great beyond all measure, has it ever 
 done, or ever been able to do, anything of itself. It looks 
 upon itself as most unworthy — 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 anything, 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 distinct- 
 ness ; 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 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,^ and to pray to God that itself may not be the only 
 soul that is rich in them. It begins to benefit its neigh- 
 bours, as it were, without being aware of it, or doing any- 
 thing consciously : its neighbours 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. 
 
 s See ch, xvii. § 3. 
 
CH. XIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I33 
 
 5. If this ground be well dug by troubles, by perse- 
 cutions, detractions, and infirmities, — they are few who 
 ascend so high without this, — if it be well broken up by 
 great detachment 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 everything, 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 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 dis- 
 couraged, 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 persevered in prayer when I was so 
 wicked, that — as I have already said3 — I gave it up for a 
 
 3 Ch. vii. § 17, and ch. viii. § 6. 
 
134 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIX. 
 
 j'ear and a half — at least, for a year, but I do not remem- 
 ber distinctly the other six months. This could not have 
 been, neither was it, anything 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 bj' 
 Thee ; who, in Thy mercy, stretchest forth Thine hand to 
 save ! How such a soul confesses Thy greatness and 
 compassion and its own wretchedness ! It really looks on 
 itself as nothingness, 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 un- 
 worthy 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. 
 
 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 
 
CH. XIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 135- 
 
 tears available ; purify the water which is so muddy ; 
 at least, let me not be to others a temptation to rash 
 judgments, as I have been to myself, when I used to think 
 such thoughts as these. Why, O Lord, dost Thou pasa 
 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 was departing from 
 everything 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 
 wert 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 sup- 
 plications 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 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 I ever shall, if God of His goodness 
 will not do that for me Himself; on the contrary, I was 
 
136 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XIX. 
 
 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 
 •temptation for some time, — and when I came to these 
 •words, "Justus as, Domine, et rectum judicium tuum,"* 
 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, or 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 
 •<ievotion 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 hereafters of this way of hearing, and of other 
 jnatters, I say nothing here ; for to do so would be to 
 <iigress from my subject, and I have already made digres- 
 •sions enough. I scarcely know 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 
 aiot 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 
 «nough of His great compassions, that He has forgiven so 
 
 4 Psalm cxviii. 137 : " Thou art just, O Lord, and Thy judgment 
 is rights" 5 See ch. xxv. 
 
CH. XIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I37 
 
 much ingratitude, not once, but often. He forgave St. 
 Peter once ; 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 pubHc. Was there ever bHndness 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 ! ^ 
 
 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 humility.7 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 OfKce, 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, 
 
 Lord ; for Thou camest 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 prayer, for the 
 love of God, look well to this. They should know that 
 when I was neglecting it, my life was much worse than it 
 had ever been ; let them reflect on the excellent help and 
 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. 
 
 1 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 
 
 6 See ch. viii. §1. 7 Ch. vii. § 17. 
 
138 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. {CH. XIX. 
 
 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, 
 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 nothing ; when I gave that up, and wasted my time ia 
 amusing myself, 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 before* — go to Communion once a 
 fortnight, and be less given to evil ; I began to be converted, 
 though I did not cease to offend our Lord all at once: 
 however, as I had not lost mj' 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, 
 keeps us from this ! 
 
 20. It is clear from this, — and, for the love of God, 
 consider 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, where- 
 in Satan is able to entangle 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 persons not grown strong ia 
 virtues, who are neither mortified nor detached ; for these 
 are not at present strong enough — as I shall explain here- 
 
 8 Ch. vii. § 27. 
 
CH. XIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I39 
 
 after' — to expose themselves to dangerous occasions, not- 
 withstanding 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 5-et 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.'° 
 
 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 confi- 
 dence that there is to be no falling away from that the 
 fruition of which it then possesses. It seems to see the 
 reward distinctly, as if it were impossible for it to abandon 
 that which, even in this life, is so delicious and sweet, for 
 anything 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," 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 un- 
 fledged. 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 everything else in the spiritual life, we have great 
 
 9 Ch. xxxi. § 21. 
 10 Ch. XX. § 33, and ch. xxv. § 24. " Ch. xix. § 4. 
 
140 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XX. 
 
 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,'^ 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 more, — no, not 
 even the graces He has given us, for the purpose 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 
 RAPTURE IS. THE BLESSING IT IS TO THE SOUL. THE 
 EFFECTS OF IT. 
 
 I. 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.' I mean, that all these are only different names for 
 
 " See § 16. 
 
 I See Inner Fortress, vi. ch. v. ; Philippus a SS. Trinitate, Theolog. 
 Mystic, par. iii. tr. i, art. 3 ; " Haec oratio raptus superior est praece- 
 dentibus orationis gradibus, etiam orationis unionis, ordinarias, et habet 
 effectus multo excellentiores et multas alias operationes. ' ' 
 
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I4I 
 
 that one and the same thing, which is also called ecstasy.' 
 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 
 is so also interiorly. But as raptures have ends of a much 
 higher kind, they produce effects both within and without. 3 
 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,4 — 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 
 
 z "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). 
 
 3 Anton, a Spirit. Sancto, Direct. Mystic, tr. 4, d. i. n. 95 : " Licet 
 oratio raptus idem sit apud mysticos ac oratio volatiis, sen elevationis 
 spiritus seu extasis ; reipsa tamen raptus aliquid addit super extasim ; 
 nam extasis importat simplicem excessum mentis in seipso secundum 
 quem aliquis extra suam cognitionem ponitur. Raptus vero super hoc 
 addit violentiam quandam ab aliquo extrinseco." 
 
 4 The words between the dashes are in the handwriting of the Saint 
 not, however, in the text, but on the margin (De la Fuente). 
 
142 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XX. 
 
 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 sweetness.' 
 
 3. A rapture is absolutely irresistible ; whilst union, 
 inasmuch as we are then on our own ground, may be 
 hindered, though that resistance be painful and violent ; it 
 is, however, almost always impossible- But rapture, for 
 the most part, is 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 
 carr3'ing 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 everj'- 
 thing, come what may, and to abandon ourselves into the 
 hands of God, and go willingly whither we 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, particular!}- 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 worn out, like a person 
 who had been contending with a strong giant ; at other 
 times it was impossible to resist at all : my soul was carried 
 aAvaj-, 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, 
 
 5 See Itiner Fortress, vi. ch. x. " Primus effectus orationis ecstatica: 
 est in corpore, quod ita remanet, ac si per animam non infonnaretur, 
 infrigidatur enim calore naturali deficiente, clauduntur suaviter oculi, 
 et alii sensus amittuntur : contingit tamen quod corpus infirmum in 
 hac oratione sanitatem recuperat." Anton, a Spirit. Sancto, Direct. 
 Mystic, tr. iv. d. 2, § 6, n. 150. 
 
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I43 
 
 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 
 thing, 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 my prayer ; for I have never been enraptured since. 
 It is true that it was not long ago.^ 
 
 7. It seemed to me, when I tried to make some resist- 
 ance, 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 therefore 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 itj 
 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 
 
 6 This passage could not have been in the first Life ; for that was 
 ■written before she had ever been Prioress. 
 
JA±^ -T" I LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XX. 
 
 h/umility 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 Hfted 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,? 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 Himself 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. 
 
 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 other 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 to be detached also : and thus 
 a certain singular estrangement from the things of earth is 
 wrought, which makes life much more distressing. After- 
 wards it causes a pain, which we can never inflict of our- 
 selves, 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.^ Even now I have that sweetness occasion- 
 ally ; but it is the pain of which I speak that is the most 
 
 7 Job iv. 15 : " Inhorruerunt pili camis meae." (See St. John of the 
 Cross, Spiritual Canticle, sts. 14, 15, vol. ii. p. 83, Engl, trans.) 
 s See ch. xxix. 
 
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 145 
 
 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 on 9 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 ; '° 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," we have no part in causing this 
 pain ; but very often there springs up a desire unexpect- 
 edly, — 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 everything, 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, it would be of little use : the spirit, not- 
 withstanding 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 com- 
 prehend it who has not prievously 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, 
 
 9 See ch. xx. § 7. 
 10 § 10, supra. " § 4. 
 
 K 
 
l^S LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XX. 
 
 — " Vigilavi, et factus sum sicut passer solitarius in tecto."" 
 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 loneli- 
 ness ; 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 ? "'3 And it is to be remem- 
 bered, 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 St. Paul's, to the effect that he was crucified to 
 the world.'* 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. 
 
 ^' 15. Now, the succour it receives from heaven — which, 
 as I have said,'5 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 
 suspended. It seems as if it were the point of death ; 
 only, the agony carries with it so great a joy, that I know 
 
 12 Psalm ci. 8 : " I have watched, and become as a sparrow alone 
 on the house-top." 
 
 13 Psalm xli. 4 : " Ubi est Deus tuus ? " 
 
 14 Galat. vi. 14: " In cnice Jesu Christi : per quem mihi mundus 
 crucifixus est, et ego mundo." 
 
 15 §§ 9 and 12. 
 
CH. XX.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I47 
 
 of nothing wherewith to compare it. It is a sharp martyr- 
 dom, 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, because the imagination forms no represen- 
 tation 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 coming 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. '^ 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. 
 
 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 
 everything in my eagerness to see God ; and this abandon- 
 ment and loneliness seem preferable to any company in the 
 world. If anything can be a consolation in this state, it 
 
 16 Daniel x. 16: "In visione tua dissolutas sunt compages meae." 
 See St. John of the Cross, Spiritual Canticle, st. 14, vol. ii. p. 84, Engl, 
 trans. ; and also Relation, viii. | 8, where this is repeated. 
 
148 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH, XX. 
 
 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,'^ 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 seeks 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 
 knowledge 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, 
 discerning its inestimable worth, prefers it to all those 
 consolations 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. 
 
 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,'* is 
 not anything that I have acquired myself, because it is 
 exceedingly supernatural, and I think I would not barter 
 it for all the graces of which I shall speak further on : I 
 
 17 Ch. V. § 18. 18 § 12. 
 
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I49 
 
 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 graces 's from our Lord which I am 
 speaking of now, and all those described in this book, and 
 it is in this state our Lord keeps me at this moment.^" 
 
 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 
 confessor tells me I did well. And though I was afraid, 
 because I was so wicked, I never could believe it was any- 
 thing wrong : on the other hand, the exceeding greatness 
 of the blessing made 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 in the position 
 it was in when the rapture came upon it — if sitting, sitting ; 
 if the hands were open, or if they were shut, they will 
 remain open or shut.*' For though the senses fail but 
 
 »9 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). 
 20 See § II. 21 See Relation, viii. § 8. 
 
150 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XX. 
 
 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,^^ 
 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 ex- 
 perience. 
 
 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 Him- 
 self ; and when He has Jield 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 stiU. 
 
 26. This I speak of lasts but a moment ; 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 comes to pass that the senses are suspended ; for so our 
 
 M Ch. xviii. § 16. 23 Ch. xviii. § 17. 
 
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I5I 
 
 Lord wills 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 considers 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 understand 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,^'! to whom our 
 Lord is granting these graces ; and if their directors have 
 had no experience in the matter, they will 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.^s 
 Perhaps I do not know what I am saying. You, my father, 
 will understand it, if I am at all correct ; for our Lord has 
 admitted you to the experience of it : yet, because that 
 experience 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,^^ 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 rapture has been deep, for a 
 day or two, and even for three days, so absorbed, or as if 
 
 24 Avila. 25 Ch. xxv. § 18. 26 § n. 
 
152 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XX. 
 
 Stunned, — so much so, as to be in appearance 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 weak feathers are fallen off. 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,^7 and so it prays Him to let it be 
 so ; it gives to Him the keys of its own will. Lo, 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 anything, 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 dis- 
 posal ; for from henceforth the soul will have nothing of 
 its own, — all it seeks is to do everything 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 St. Vincent speaks.** I have seen it 
 myself, and I know it by experience, that the soul in 
 
 27 "Other will . Lord's will." These words — in Spanish, " Otra 
 voluntad, sino hacer la de nuestro Senor " — are not in the handwriting 
 of the Saint ; perhaps it was Father Banes who wrote them. The MS. 
 is blurred, and the original texts seems to have been, " libre alvedrio 
 nin guerra ' ' (De la Fuente) . 
 
 28 St. 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 visionem et jadicia, 
 tanquam stultas dementias, et eorum raptus, sicut rabiamenta" — 
 -which word the Saint translates by " rabiamientos." 
 
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 1 53 
 
 rapture is mistress of everything, and acquires such 
 freedom in one hour, and even in less, as to be unable to 
 recognize 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 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 ! ^s 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, particularly if it be a woman. 
 Hence its condemnation ; and not without reason ; because 
 they know not how strong the influence is that moves it. 
 The soul at times cannot help itself; nor can it refrain 
 
 29 Psalm liv. 7 : " Quis dabit mihi pennas sicut columbae ? " 
 
1-54 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XX- 
 
 from undeceiving those it loves, and whom it longs to see 
 deUvered out of the prison of this life ; for that state in 
 which the soul itself had been before neither is, nor seems 
 to be, anything else but a prison. 
 
 34. The soul is weary of the days during which it 
 respected points of honour, and the delusion which led it 
 to believe that to be honour which the world calls by that 
 name ; it now sees 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 ox 
 esteem, and despising that which is despicable ; for every- 
 thing is nothing, and less than nothing, whatever passeth 
 away, and is not 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 anything of worth, and anything 
 lasting ? Why, 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 profit- 
 less 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 everything. 
 
 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 restless- 
 ness ! 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 
 
CH. XX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I55 
 
 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 propor- 
 tion 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 many 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 ? " 3° When it looks on this 
 Divine Sun, the brightness thereof 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, dis- 
 tributes the fruit thereof, and so none remains in its hands ; 
 all the good it has, it refers to God ; if it says anything 
 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. 
 
 30 Job iv. 17 : " Numquid homo Dei comparatione justificabitur ? " 
 
156 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXI. 
 
 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 not 
 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,' 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 to him who is 
 more bound than those beneath him 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 loath- 
 some. 
 
 3. If, then, the soul should be wholly engulfed, what 
 then? O Lord, if Thou wart 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 
 
 I Ch. XX. § 30 
 
CH.XXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I57 
 
 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 shall 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, — provided I 
 remained in a condition never to offend thee, — and give 
 them up to those who are 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 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,^ it sees clearly 
 
 a Ch. XX. § 34. 
 
158 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXI. 
 
 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 am 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 j'et 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 emptj',3 seeing 
 that the reward of every one wiU be according to his 
 works. ■• Behold my life, behold my good name and my 
 will ; I have gi^-en them aU 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.5 
 
 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,^ so ill-ordered ; to waste its time in 
 attending to the body by sleeping and eating!" All is 
 wearisome ; it cannot run away, — it sees itself chained 
 and imprisoned ; it feels then most keenly the captivity 
 
 3 Exod. xxiii. 15 : " Non apparebis in conspectu meo vacuus." 
 
 4 Apoc. ii. 23 : " Dabo unicuique vestnun secundum opera sua." 
 
 5 See ch. xxxii. § i. 
 
 6 " Farsa desta vida tan mal concertada." 
 
 7 Inner Fortress, iv. ch. i. § 11. 
 
CH.XXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I59 
 
 into which the body has brought us, and the wretchedness 
 of this life. It understands the reason why St. Paul prayed 
 to God to deliver him from it.^ The soul cries with the 
 Apostle, and calls upon God to deliver it, as I said on 
 another occasion.s 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 dis- 
 tresses it most is, that it cannot find many who make the 
 same complaint 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 St. Paul and the Magdalene, and others like them, 
 have suffered, in whom the fire of the love of God has 
 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 experience 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 
 
 8 Rom. vii. 24 : " Quis me liberabit de corpore mortis hujus ? " 
 9 Ch. xvi. § 12. 
 
l6o LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH, XXI. 
 
 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. JVIeanwhile, 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 effort 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 method 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 gr eatdeta ch- 
 ment, 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 doeth 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 culti- 
 vating the garden, but because it is His will to show His 
 greatness at times in a soil which is most worthless, as I 
 have just said, and to prepare it for all good : and jdl 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 
 
CH. XXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. l6r 
 
 that which is truth indeed, that everything 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. 
 
 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 goodness, hath held me by the hand, that I might not 
 go back. I do not think that I am doing anything 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 
 
 L 
 
l62 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXII. 
 
 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 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 
 ecstasies, all tending to make the soul humble and strong, 
 to 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." 
 
 16. May it please His Majesty that the great muni- 
 ficence 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 everything utterly for God. If His 
 Majesty repays us so abundantly, that even in this Ufe the 
 reward and gain of those who serve Him become visible, 
 what will it be in the next ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 THE SECURITY OF CONTEMPLATIVES LIES IN THEIR NOT 
 ASCENDING 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. 
 
 I. 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- 
 10 Cor. ii. 9 : '■ Quse prseparavit Deus iis qui diligunt Ilium." 
 
CH. XXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 163 
 
 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 a purgative life, and advancing in the 
 illuminative. I do not very well know what they mean by 
 illuminative : I understand it to mean the life of those who 
 are making progress. And they advise us much to with- 
 draw 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 Humanity itself.' They defend their 
 opinion^ by bringing forward the words 3 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.* 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 everywhere around, and him- 
 self absorbed in Him. This is what we 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 what- 
 
 1 See Inner Fortress, vi. 7, § 4. 
 
 2 This opinion is supposed to be justiiied by the words of St. 
 Thomas, 3 Sent. dist. 22, qu. 3, art. i, ad quintum. "Corporalis prae- 
 sentia Christi in duobos poterat esse nociva. Primo, quantum ad 
 fidem, quia videntes Eum in forma in qua erat minor Patre, non ita de 
 facili crederent Eum aequalem Patri, ut dicit glossa super Joannem. 
 Secundo, 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 : ''Expedit vobis ut Ego vadam ; si enim non 
 abiero, Paracletus non veniet ad vos." 
 
 4 This sentence is in the margin of the original MS., not in the 
 text, but in the handwriting of the Saint (Ds la Fuente). 
 
164 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXII. 
 
 ever 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. 
 
 3. As I had no director, I used to read these books, 
 where, by little and httle, I thought I might understand 
 something. I found out afterwards that, if our Lord had 
 not shown me the way, I should have learned but httle 
 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 supernatural 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 helps us in 
 it, and the joy of it is great. And so, because I was con- 
 scious of the profit and delight which this way furnished 
 me, no one could have brought me back to the contem- 
 plation 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, 
 without 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 
 
CH. XXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 165 
 
 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,3 and so I returned to my habit of 
 delighting 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 bles- 
 sings ? are they not from Thee ? I will not think that I was 
 blamable, for I was very sorry for it, and it was certainly 
 done in ignorance. And so it pleased Thee, in Thy good- 
 ness, to succour me, by sending me one who has delivered 
 me from this delusion ; and afterwards by showing Thy- 
 self to me so many times, as I shall relate hereafter,* 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 
 experience ; 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 tempta- 
 tions. 
 
 7. The first consideration is this : there is a little 
 absence 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 possibly imagine himself 
 not to be exceedingly rich, most abundantly rewarded, 
 when our Lord permits him to stand with St. John at the 
 
 5 "I mean by lately . . . and visions" is in the margin of the 
 MS., but in the handwriting of the Saint {De la Fuente). 
 
 6 Ch. xxviii. § 4. 
 
l66 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXII. 
 
 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? 
 Certainly 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 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 together. 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, everything 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, everything must pass through the hands of 
 His most Sacred Humanity, in whom His Majesty said 
 that He is well pleased.7 I know this by repeated experi- 
 ence : our Lord has told it me. I have seen clearly that 
 this is the door^ by which we are to enter, if we would 
 
 7 St. Matt. iii. 17 : " Hie est Filius Meus dilectus, in quo Mihi com. 
 placui." 8 St. John x. 7, 9 : " Ego sum ostium." 
 
CH. XXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 167 
 
 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 contem- 
 plation. This way is safe. Our Lord is He by whom all 
 good things come to us ; He 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 St. 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 con- 
 templation, I considered the matter carefully ; and I see 
 that they walked in no other way. St. Francis with the 
 stigmata proves it, St. Antony of Padua with the Infant 
 Jesus ; St. Bernard rejoiced in the Sacred Humanity ; so 
 did St. Catherine of Siena, and many others, as your 
 reverence knows better than I do. 
 
 11. This withdrawing from bodily objects must no 
 doubt be 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 inter- 
 meddle here. What I would say is, that the most Sacred 
 Humanity of Christ is 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.s 
 
 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 understanding has toiled to know ; and it loves 
 
 9 See St. John of the Cross, Mount Carmel, bk. iii. ch. i. 
 
168 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXII. 
 
 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 
 <jod it be always ! — the most Sacred Humanity before our 
 eyes, — ^this, I say, is what seems to me not to be right : it 
 is mciking 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 medi- 
 tation 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." This little mote of 
 want of humility, though in appearance a mere nothing, 
 does a great deal of harm to those who wish to advance in 
 contemplation. 
 
 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 foUy. 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 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 
 iave much rest, and when we have our seasons of drjmess, 
 Christ is our best Friend ; for we regard Him as Man, and 
 TDehold Him faint and in trouble, and He is our Com- 
 panion ; and when we shall have accustomed ourselves in 
 ibis way, it is very easy to find Him near us, although 
 
 " Ch. xii. II 8, 9. 
 
CH. XXII.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 169 
 
 there will be occasions 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 :" we must not show ourselves as labouring after 
 spiritual consolations ; 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 with- 
 draw Himself when He sees it be expedient for us, and 
 when He pleaseth will also draw the soul forth out of itself, 
 as I said before." 
 
 1 5. 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 St. 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,'* 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 marvellous mercies, 
 of which I shall speak hereafter,'s at any other time than 
 when I was as one brought to nothing,"^ by seeing how 
 wicked I was. Moreover, His Majesty contrived to make 
 me understand matters that helped me to know myself, but 
 which I could never have even imagined of myself. 
 
 17. I believe myself that if a soul makes any efforts of 
 its own to further itself in the way of the prayer of union, 
 and though it may seem to make immediate progress, 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 conso- 
 
 " Ch. XV. § 21. " Ch. XX. § 2. 
 
 '3 St. Luke V. 8 : " Exi a me, quia homo peccator sum, Domine." 
 
 14 Ch. xii. § 6. 15 Ch. xxviii. 
 
 16 Psalm Ixxii. 22 : " Et ego ad nihilum redactus sum, et nescivi." 
 
170 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXIL 
 
 lation 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 ; '7 
 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 under- 
 standing and with a sense of devotion, think everything 
 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 ; '* for we are unprofitable servants.'^ 
 What do we think we can do ? Our Lord grant that 
 we understand this, and that we may be those httle asses 
 who drive the windlass I spoke of:™ these, though their 
 eyes are bandaged, and they do not understand what they 
 are doing, j-et draw up more water than the gardener can 
 draw with all his efforts. We must walk in liberty on this 
 road, committing ourselves into the hands of God. If it 
 be His Majesty's good pleasiure to raise us and place us 
 among His chamberlains and secret councillors, we must 
 go willingly ; if not, we must serve Him in the lower oflSces 
 of His house, and not sit down on the upper seats.*' As I 
 have sometimes said,^* God is more careful of us than we 
 are ourselves, and knows what each one of us is fit for. 
 
 19. \^'hat use is there in governing oneself by oneself, 
 when the whole wiU 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. If a man has a bad voice, let him force 
 himself ever so much to sing, he wUl never improve it ; 
 
 17 Isaias liii. 3: "Virum dolonim, et scientem infinnitatem." 
 
 ■8 Ch. xi. § 13. 
 
 19 St. Luke xvii. 10: " Servi inu tiles sumus." 
 
 20 Ch. xi. § II. 
 
 =' St. Luke xiv. 8 : ■' Non discnmbas in primo loco." See Way oj 
 
 Perfection, ch. xxvi. § i ; but ch. xvii. of the old editions. 
 
 22 Ch. xii. § 12, ch. xix. § 23. 
 
CH. XXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I7I 
 
 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 good- 
 ness 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.^3 
 
 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 grants us this grace, of having this love 
 imprinted in our hearts, everything 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 
 
 23 Os. ii. 14 : " Ducam earn in solitudinem." 
 
172 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXII. 
 
 love which He bore us, and of His glorious Son, to whom 
 it cost so much to make it known to us ! Amen. 
 
 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 contem- 
 plation, 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 
 twinkUng 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 everything. 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.^ 
 
 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 
 *4 St. Matt. xix. 29 : " Qui reliquerit domain, , . . centuplum accipiet." 
 
CH XXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 173 
 
 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 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 Him- 
 self. 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 com est to a 
 lodging so mean as mine. Blessed be Thou for ever and 
 ever ! 
 
 27. I now humbly ask you, my father, if 3'-ou 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 
 
174 
 
 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXIII. 
 
 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.^s 
 So, throughout, experience and discretion are necessary. 
 May our Lord, of His goodness, bestow them on us ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXni. 
 
 THE SAINT RESUMES THE HISTORY OF .HER LIFE. AIMING 
 AT PERFECTION. MEANS WHEREBY IT MAY BE GAINED. 
 INSTRUCTIONS FOR CONFESSORS. 
 
 I. I SHALL now return to that point in my life where I 
 broke off,' having made, I beheve, 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, women have 
 fallen into great delusions and deceits of Satan, ^ 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 
 
 25 Ch. xii. § 8. 
 ^ J At the end of ch. ix. The thirteen chapters interposed between 
 ' that and this — the twenty-third — are a treatise on mystical theology. 
 
 = She refers to Magdalene of the Cross (Reforma de los Descalgos. 
 vol. i. lib. i. c. xix. § 2). 
 
en. XXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I75 
 
 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 that 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 understand- 
 ing: this seemed to me, who did not comprehend the 
 matter, 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 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 ; 3 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 spiritual 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,* 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 con- 
 ferring 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,5 — and perhaps I never should have become better ; 
 
 ■ 
 
 3 The college of the Society at Avila was founded in 1555; but 
 some of the Fathers had come thither in 1553 {De la Fuente). 
 
 4 Ch. vii. § 37. 5 Ch. xix. § 9. 
 
176 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXIII. 
 
 for I had now sunk so deeply into the petty ways of an 
 evil habit, — I could not convince 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 
 supernatural, because at times I was unable to withstand 
 it ; to have it when I would was also impossible. I thought 
 to 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 attach- 
 ments to trifles, which, though not very wrong in them- 
 selves, were yet enough to ruin all. 
 
 6. I was told of a learned ecclesiastic,^ 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 nobleman 7 living 
 in the same place. This latter is a married man ; but his 
 
 6 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 St. Joseph, founded by St. 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 Fuente). 
 
 7 Don Francisco de Salcedo. After the death of his wife, he 
 became a priest, and was chaplain and confessor of the Carmelite 
 nuns of St. Joseph. For twenty years of his married life he attended 
 regularly the theological lectures of the Dominicans, in the house of 
 St. Thomas. His death took place Sept. 12, 1580, when he had been a 
 priest for ten years {St. Teresa's Letters, vol. iv. letter 43, note 13 : letter 
 368, ed. of De la Fuente). 
 
CH. XXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 177 
 
 life is SO edifying 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 everybody 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. 
 
 7. This blessed and holy man, then, seems to me, by 
 the pains he took, to have been the beginning of salvatioa 
 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,* 
 — 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 qf 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 
 
 8 Dona Mencia del Aguila {De la Fuente, in a note on letter 10. 
 vol. ii. p. g, where he corrects himself, — having previously called her 
 Mencia de Avila). 
 
 M 
 
178 LIFE OF ST. TERESA, [CH. XXIII. 
 
 been strong, according 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, 9 and that I 
 liad not the courage to go forth at once in the perfection 
 he required of me, I was distressed ; 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 g^races I had received from 
 God were very many, I was still at the very beginning in 
 the matter of virtue and of mortification. 
 
 g. 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 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 begin- 
 ners in the way of God, was not permitted to understand 
 my case, or to undertake 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, 
 be encouraged me, and told me that I ought not to suppose 
 I could give up everything 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 dweUest, 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 
 
 9 §4- 
 
en. xxin.] written by herself. 179 
 
 weaknesses ; but, if we consider his state, they were 
 neither faults nor imperfections ; 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 endurance of me when he saw that I did not 
 mend my ways at once. He went on discreetly, by degrees 
 showing me how to overcome 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 
 might well have been sins, though since I conversed with 
 him I am somewhat improved, — and when I recounted to p 
 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 under- 
 stand it myself, and so I could tell him nothing of my 
 prayer ; for the grace to understand it — and, understand- 
 ing it, to describe it — has only lately been given me of 
 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 anything to do with it. But I was 
 
l8o LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXIII. 
 
 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 anything 
 there by which I might recognise the prayer I practised, I 
 found in one of them, called the Ascent of the Mount, ^° 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 anything. 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," 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. 
 Everything 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 through many 
 like it, as I shall show hereafter ; " 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 
 ■\vith whom I spoke of my prayer did not keep my secret, 
 
 10 Subida del Monte Stem, by a Franciscan friar, Bernardino de 
 Laredo {Reforma, vol. i. lib. i. c. xix. § 7). 
 " § 6. " See ch. xxv. § 18. 
 
CH. XXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. l8l 
 
 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.'s 
 
 15. I believe that our Lord permitted '+ this to be done 
 without sin on their part, in order that I might suifer. I 
 do not say that they revealed anything 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 suifered from disease 
 of the heart, '5 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 way I could 
 in general, — for I was not in confession, because he was a 
 layman ; 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 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 
 
 '3 See ch. xxviii. § 18. ■* See ReJatio:i, vii. § 17. 
 
 "s See ch. iv. § 6. 
 
l82 "LIFE OF ST. TERESA. {CH. XXnL 
 
 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 
 oratory 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 St. Paul said, God is faithful ; '* 
 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 anything 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 amuse- 
 ments ; 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 no 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 God '7 and he was a great servant of His, and 
 very prudent. He understood all I told him, explained it 
 to me, and encouraged me greatly. He said that aU 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 
 
 " I Cor. X. 13: "Fidelis autem Deus est, qui non patietur vos 
 tentari supra id quod potestis." 
 
 '' F. Juan de Padranos, whom St. Francis de Borja had sent in 
 1555. with F. Fernando Alvarez del Aguila, to found the house of the 
 Society in Avila {De la Fuenie). Ribera, i. g, says he heard that F. Juan 
 de Padranos gave in part the Exercises of St. Ignatius to the Saint. 
 
CH. XXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 183, 
 
 was not well grounded, and had not begun to understand 
 what mortification 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 after- 
 wards 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 resolution not to swerve from anything he might com- 
 mand me, and to this day I have kept it. Our Lord be 
 praised, who has given me grace to be obedient to my 
 confessors,'^ 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 t& 
 say 
 
 '5 See Relation, i. § 9. 
 
384 LIFE OF ST, TERESA. [CH. XXIV. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 TROGRESS UNDER OBEDIENCE. HER INABILITY TO RESIST 
 THE GRACES OF GOD. GOD MULTIPLIES HIS GRACES. 
 
 I. 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 outward 
 life, the change was visible ; for our Lord gave me courage 
 ±0 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 stiU 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 sweetness 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 
 jnyself, the more our Lord poured over me that sweetness 
 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 power to resist Him. 
 
CH. XXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 185 
 
 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 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.' I 
 did so, because I felt that our Lord was enjoining it all, 
 and giving hirri 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 com- 
 mitted 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 direc- 
 tion 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,^ 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,^ con- 
 trived 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 
 was the work of the Spirit of God,* and that he thought it 
 was not right now to prolong that resistance ; that hitherto 
 it had been safe enough, — only, I should always begin my 
 
 I The Saint now treated her body with extreme severity, disciplining 
 herself even unto blood (Reforina, vol. i. lib. i. c. xx. § 4). 
 
 ^ St. Francis de Borja came to Avila, where St. Teresa lived, in 1557 
 (De la Fuente). This passage must have been written after the founda- 
 tion of St. Joseph, for it was not in the first Life, as the Saint says, ch. x. 
 § II, that she kept secret the names of herself and all others. 
 
 3 Ch. xxiii. § 6. 
 
 4 See Relation, viii. § 6. 
 
l86 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXIV. 
 
 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 up- 
 wards, 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 these matters. He said 
 that further resistance would be a mistake. I was exceed- 
 ingly 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 confessor,5 in the 
 Society of Jesus. It pleased our Lord that I should com- 
 mence a friendship with a noble lady,^ a widow, much given 
 to prayer, who had much to do with the fathers. She made 
 her own confessor^ 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. 
 
 5 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. Juan 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. 
 
 6 DoSa Guiomar de UUoa. See below, ch. xxxii. § 13. 
 
 7 If this confessor was F. Baltasar Alvarez, the Saint, F. Bouix ob- 
 serves, 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. 
 
CH. XXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 187 
 
 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 in- 
 gratitude 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. 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 aoubt 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 Vv'ith 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.^ 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 commands upon me in this matter. When 
 my confessor saw how much I clung to these friendships, 
 
 8 See Relation, i. § 6. 
 
1 88 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXV. 
 
 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 everything, 
 according to his advice. It did a great deal of good to 
 those with whom I used to converse, to see my determina- 
 tion. God be blessed for ever ! Who in one moment set me 
 free, while I had been for many years making many efforts, 
 and 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. DISCUSSIONS ON THAT SUBJECT. 
 
 I. 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.^ 
 
 I Philip, a SS. Trinitate, Theolog. Mystic, par. 2, .tr. iii. art. v. : 
 " Tres sunt modi divinae locutionis ; completur enim divina locutio vel 
 verbis successivis, vel verbis formalibus, vel verbis subst^tialibus. 
 Completur 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 Deo 
 tamen dirigente procedunt. Completur verbis cum anima vel in se 
 collecta, vel aliis occupata, percipit quaedam verba formaliter ac dis- 
 tincte divinitus expressa, ad quorum formationem anima passive 
 penitus se habet. Completur verbis substantialibus cum anima vel in 
 se collecta, vel etiam distracta, percipit quaedam verba viva at efficacia, 
 divinitus ad se directa, quae virtutem aut substantialem efiFectum per 
 ipsa significatum fortiter ac infallibiliter causant." See also St. John 
 of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carnul, b. ii. ch. xxviii. and the following. 
 
CH. XXV,] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 189 
 
 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, 
 whatever resistance we may offer. When we wish not to 
 hear anything in this world, we can stop our ears, or give 
 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 ourselves we must listen ; and the understanding must 
 apply itself so thoroughly to the comprehension of that 
 which God 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 experi- 
 ence ; for my resistance ■ lasted nearly two years,' because 
 of the great fear I was in : and even now I resist occasion- 
 ally ; 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 .3 
 
 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 
 
 z From 1555 to 1557, when the Saint was advised by St. Francis de 
 Borja to make no further resistance (Bouix). 
 3 See ch. xxvi. § 4. 
 
igo LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXV. 
 
 granted or not, and it is most 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 anything which the understanding has fashioned, 
 however 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 understanding will see that it has not been 
 listening only, but also forming the words ; and the words 
 it forms are something indistinct, fantastic, and not clear 
 like the divine locutions. It is in our power to turn away 
 our attention from these locutions of our own, just as we 
 can be silent when we 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,* 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 
 sentence correctly ; and yet grand sentences, perfectly 
 arranged, such as the soul in its most recollected state 
 
 t §4- 
 
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. IQI 
 
 never could have formed, are uttered, and at the first 
 word, as I said,5 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 anything, when it remembers 
 nothing ? — yea, rather, how can it remember them then, 
 when the memory can hardly do anything 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,^ — all the faculties of the 
 soul are suspended ; and, as I think, neither vision, nor 
 understanding, 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 accus- 
 tomed 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 pro- - 
 duces 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. 
 
 g. But as to the divine locution, we listen to that as we 
 
 5 §9. 
 
 6 The doctrine here laid down is not that of the second water, — 
 chs. 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). 
 
192 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXV. 
 
 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 locu- 
 tions 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,? 
 matters of which the memory has not the least recollec- 
 tion ; 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 
 experienced 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 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 instruction. But as to prophetic 
 words, they are never forgotten, 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 
 
 7 § 6. 
 
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 193 
 
 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 
 understanding itself, and the soul, stand amazed at some 
 of the things we understand. So it is ; and he who has 
 any experience 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 locutions that proceed from the under- 
 standing 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,^ hear them, I must. It seems to me that any 
 one disposed to deceive people bj' saying 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 have said before,^ 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 tempta- 
 tions and travail of soul in divferse ways ; and though I 
 
 8 J 2, 9 Ch. vii. § 12. 
 
 N 
 
194 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXV. 
 
 am in trouble often enough, as I shall show hereafter,'" 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 
 sweetnesses 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 per- 
 secution these flowers wither, — I do not call devotion, 
 though they are a good beginning, and are holy impres- 
 sions ; but they are not a test to determine whether these 
 locutions come from a good or an evil spirit. It is there- 
 fore best for us to proceed always with great caution ; for 
 those persons who have advanced in prayer only so far as 
 this may most easily fall into delusions, if they have visions 
 or revelations. For myself, 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,'' now many years ago, when I saw our Lord. Oh, 
 that His Majesty had been pleased to let me then under- 
 stand that it was a true vision, as I have since understood 
 it was ! it would have been no slight blessing to me. 
 
 15. After these locutions of the evil one, the soul is 
 never gentle, but is, as it were, terrified, and greatly 
 disgusted. 
 
 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, the 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 ; which 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 
 
 10 Ch. xxviii. § 6, ch. xxx. § 7. " Ch. vii. § 11. 
 
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. ig5 
 
 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 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 to it ; the 
 soul is thrown into a state of disgust, and is troubled, able 
 to do no good thing whatever — for if it conceives good 
 desires, they are not strong ; its humility is fictitious, dis- 
 turbed, 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 
 
ig6 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXV. 
 
 whom nothing is 'concealed. If we do this, no harm can 
 befall us, though much has befallen me through the exces- 
 sive fears which possessed some people. For instance, it 
 happened so once to me, when many persons in whom I 
 had great confidence, and with good reason, had assembled 
 together, — five or six in number, I think, — and all very- 
 great servants of God. It is true, mj' 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 aflfection 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 deceived 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 heart " 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 re- 
 flected on my wicked life, and therefore what they said to 
 me must be true. 
 
 20. In this distress, I quitted the church, '3 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, 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 under- 
 
 " Ch. iv. § 6, ch. V. § 14. 
 13 It was the church of the Jesuits [Bouix). 
 
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. I97 
 
 Stood 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 tenderly, how sweetly Thou, 
 
 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. O my God, oh, that 
 
 1 had understanding and learning, and a new language, 
 
igS LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXV. 
 
 in order to magnify Thy works, according to the know- 
 ledge of them which my soul possesses ! Everything 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 deliver- 
 ance 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." '+ 
 
 23. It seems to me that, in the state I was 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 power- 
 ful ! 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, com- 
 manded the winds to be still over the sea. '5 So I said to 
 myself : Who is He, that all my faculties should thus obey 
 Him ? \Vho 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 
 
 i-t See Inner Fortress, vi. 3, 5. 
 
 15 St. Matt. viii. 26 ; " Imperavit ventis et rnari, et facta est tran- 
 quillitas magna." 
 
CH. XXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. igg 
 
 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 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 alto- 
 gether ; and, though I saw them occasionally, — I shall 
 speak of this by and by,'^ — I was never again afraid of 
 them — on the contrary, they seemed to be afraid of me.'? 
 
 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,'^ 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 ourselves to the assaults of terror by our attach- 
 ments to honours, possessions, and pleasures. For then 
 the evil spirits, uniting themselves with 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 
 
 16 ch. xxxi. § 2. 
 
 17 St. John of the Cross, Spiritual Canticle, st. 24, p. 128, Eng. trans. 
 
 18 St. Matt. X. 26, 28 ; " Ne ergo timueritis eos, . . . sed potius 
 timete Eum." 
 
200 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXV. 
 
 with which we should defend ourselves. It is a great pity. 
 But if, for the love of God, we hated all this, and em- 
 braced 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.'' He 
 wiU 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 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 tsike 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 afiraid 
 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 ! 
 
 19 St. John viii. 44 : " Mendax est, et pater ejus." 
 
CH. XXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 20I 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 HOW THE FEARS OF THE SAINT VANISHED. HOW SHE WAS 
 ASSURED THAT HER PRAYER WAS THE WORK OF THE 
 HOLY SPIRIT. 
 
 I. I LOOK upon the courage which our Lord has implanted 
 in me against evil spirits as one of the greatest mercies 
 which He has bestowed upon me ; for a cowardly soul, 
 afraid of anything but sin against God, is a very unseemly 
 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,' 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 able to destroy us. If His Majesty is pleased with us, 
 whoever resists us — be he who he may — will be utterly 
 disappointed. 
 
 2. It may be so, you will say ; but, then, where is that 
 soul so just as to please Him in everything ? — 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 weak- 
 ness. 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.* Everything wearies, every- 
 thing distresses, everything torments the soul, unless it 
 be suffered with 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 mani- 
 fest, and, as I have just said, impossible to hide. 
 I Ch. XXV. § 26. a Ch. xv. § 6. 
 
202 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVI. 
 
 3. It happened to me, on another occasion, to be 
 grievously tried, and much spoken against on account of 
 a certain affair, — of which I will speak hereafter,3 — ^by 
 almost everybody in the place where I am living, and by 
 the members of my Order. When 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 wLU 
 do what I have promised thee." And so, afterwards, was 
 it done. I found myself at once so strong, that I could 
 have undertaken an3'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 imper- 
 fections. They are enough to destroy a soul. They 
 correct me, however ; for His Majesty — as I said before* — 
 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 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 
 myself or others ; many of them are prophecies of future 
 things, three or four years beforehand ; and all of them 
 have been fulfilled : some of them I could mention. Here, 
 then, are so many reasons for beUeving that they come 
 from God, as make it impossible, I beheve, for anybody 
 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 anj- : 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 
 
 3 Ch. xxviii. ; the foundation of the house of St. Joseph. 
 4 Ch. xxv. § 23. 
 
CH. XXVI.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 203 
 
 done. I had a confessors 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 sufferings, and then everything would be easy. 
 5. One of my confessors, to whom I went in the be- 
 ginning, 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 to my confessor ; ^ 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 anything from my confessor ; for I should find great 
 security if I told everything ; and if I did otherwise, I 
 might at any time fall into delusions.7 
 
 5 The BoUandists, 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. 
 
 6 See Relation, vii. § 7. 
 
 7 St. John of the Cross, Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch. 22. 
 
204 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH.XXVI. 
 
 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 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.^ 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 httle 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 way that it cannot be for- 
 gotten ! 
 
 7. Who can look upon our Lord, covered with wounds, 
 and bowed down under persecutions, without accepting, 
 loving, and longfing 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 without acknowledging the torments of this life to be 
 joyous delights in comparison, and confessing how much 
 they owe to our Lord in having saved them so often from 
 the place of torments? 9 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 
 
 * The visions of the Saint began in 1558 (De la Fuente) ; or, ac- 
 cording to Father Bouix, in 1559. 
 
 9 St. Luke xvi. 28: "Ne et ipsi veniant in hunc locum tormen- 
 torun^" 
 
CH, XXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 205 
 
 experience herein, and that he will 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 XXVn. 
 
 THE SAINT PRAYS TO BE DIRECTED BY A DIFFERENT WAY. 
 INTELLECTUAL VISIONS. 
 
 I. I NOW resume the story of my life. I was in great pain 
 and distress ; and many prayers, as I said,' 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, — ex- 
 cepting 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 heavenwards, 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 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 St. Hilarion, to 
 I Ch. XXV. § ao. 
 
206 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVII. 
 
 the Angel St. Michael, to whom I had recently become 
 devout, for this purpose ; and many other Saints I impor- 
 tuned, 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 St. Peter,^ — when I 
 saw Christ close by me, or, to speak more correctly, felt 
 Him ; for I saw nothing 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,^ 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 con- 
 tinualljs 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.* 
 
 4. I went at once to my confessor,5 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 ? " 1 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 
 
 2 See ch. xxviii. § 4, and ch. xxix. § 4. The vision took place, it 
 seems, on the 2gth of June. See ch. xxix. § 6. 
 
 3 See ch. vii. § 12. 
 
 4 See Anton, a Spiritu Sancto, Direct. Mystic, tr. iii. disp. v. § 3. 
 
 5 See Itiner Fortress, vi. 8, 3. 
 
CH. XXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 207 
 
 experienced, — 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,^— 
 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 certain 
 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 .7 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 fre- 
 quently felt, particularly bj' those who have attained to 
 the prayer of union and of quiet, when we seem, at the 
 very commencement 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 sweet- 
 ness, which we then make. This is a great grace from 
 God; and let him to whom He has given it esteem it 
 
 6 § 17, infra. 7 See Relation, vii. § 26. 
 
208 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVII. 
 
 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 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 in- 
 flowings 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.^ 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 con- 
 fidently affirm that he was that person, as I 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 under- 
 stand ; and He manifests it there without images or 
 formal words, after the manner of the vision I am speak- 
 ing of. Consider well this way in which God works, in 
 
 8 Inner Fortress, vi. 8, 5 3- 
 
CH. XXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 209 
 
 order that the soul may understand what He means — His 
 great truths and mysteries ; for very often what I under- 
 stand, 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 such pure 
 spirituality, that there is no turmoil of the faculties, 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 
 occurs; for generally — so I think— the senses are not 
 taken away, and the faculties are not suspended : they 
 preserve their ordinary 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 our- 
 selves : 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,^ 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 con- 
 tributes 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 
 
 9 Ch. XXV. § I. 
 
210 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVII. 
 
 listening, which is granted to it in the other case, is now 
 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 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 anything itself might do, renders it fit for 
 blessings 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 marvellous, and given to one who has deserved them 
 so Httle — incredible, too, without a most lively faith. I 
 intend, therefore, 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 account 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 ot 
 His goodness made me see it ; He showed it to me in a 
 
CH. XXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 211 
 
 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. '° 
 
 13. Oh, marvellous goodness of God, in that Thou 
 permittest 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, O 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 everything for Him. God is not an accepter 
 of persons." He loves all ; there is no excuse for any 
 one, however wicked be may be, seeing that He hath thus 
 dealt with me, raising me to the state I arn 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 con- 
 ceivable joys, that it may well make us loathe all the joys 
 of earth ; for they are all but dross ; and it is an odious 
 
 10 Cant. vi. 4: "Averte oculos tuos a me, quia ipsi me avolare 
 fecerunt." St. John of the Cross, Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch xxix, p. igz, 
 Engl, trans. 
 
 11 Acts X. 35 : " Non est personarum acceptor Deus." 
 
212 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVII. 
 
 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," if we do not help to 
 carry His cross with the CyreneanP's 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 suflferings 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 myself for ever. I listened to them myself, 
 and came to the 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 wiU he be who gave up all his riches for Christ ! 
 How honourable will he be who, for His sake, sought no 
 
 " St. Luke xxiii. 28 : " Filiae Jerusalem, nolite flere super Me, sed 
 super vos ipsas flete." 
 
 >3 St. Matt, xxvii. 32 : " Hunc angariaverunt ut toUeret crucem 
 Ejus." 
 
CH. XXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 213 
 
 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!'* How few there are of this kind now, because of 
 our sins ! Now, indeed, they are all gone whom people 
 regarded as mad,'5 because they saw them perform 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 edification 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 recol- 
 lected 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 took 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. 
 
 17. And what an excellent likeness in the person of 
 that blessed friar, Peter of Alcantara, God has just taken 
 from us ! '^ 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 
 
 14 St. John X. 20 : " Dsemonium habet et insanit : quid Eum 
 auditis ?" 
 
 15 Sap. V. 4: "Nos insensati vitam illorum aestimabamus insaniam.'' 
 '* i8th Oct. 1562. As the Saint finished the first relation of her 
 
 life in June 1562, this is one of the additions subsequently made. 
 
214 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVII. 
 
 he did, there are many ways, as I have said before,'^ 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. 
 
 i8. He spoke of it to me and to another person, from 
 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 
 encourage me, at a time when I was in great straits, as I 
 said before, and shall speak of again. '^ 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 underwent, when he began, was this of over- 
 coming sleep. For that purpose, he was alwaj's either 
 kneeling or standing. When he slept, he sat down, 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 onlj' 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 jou astonished 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. 
 '' Ch. xiv. § 7. '8 Ch. xxvl. § 3, ch. xxxii. § 16. 
 
CH. XXVII.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 215 
 
 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, other- 
 wise 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 then 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 questions ; he was 
 very pleasant to speak to, for he had a most clear under- 
 standing. 
 
 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, '3 " Lsetatus sum in his quae dicta sunt mihi ; " 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 persons, and within 
 eight days came the news that he was dead — or, to speak 
 more correctly, he had begun to live for evermore.^" 
 
 '9 Psalm cxxi. The words in the MS. are : " Laetatun sun yn is 
 que dita sun miqui " {De la Fuents). 20 See ch. xxx. § 2. 
 
2l6 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII. 
 
 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 anjiihing in his name, and He not hear them. 
 I ha^e 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 anything in this life ! — as if j'ou 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, mj' father, for wearj-ing jou to no purpose. It seems 
 as if I would make you do penance for my sins herein. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVin. 
 
 VISIONS OF THE SACRED HUMANITY, AND OF THE GLORIFIED 
 BODIES. IMAGINARY VISIONS. GREAT FRUITS THEREOF 
 WHEN THEY COME FROM GOD. 
 
 I. I NOW resume our subject. I spent some days, not 
 man}', with that vision' 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 
 occasionally afraid, because so much was said to me about 
 delusions, that fear lasted not long, because our Lord re- 
 assured me. 
 
 2. It pleased our Lord, one day that I was in prayer, 
 to show me His Hands, and His Hands only. The beauty 
 ' Ch. xx\'i'. § 3. 
 
CH. XXVIH.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 217 
 
 of them was so great, that no language can describe it. 
 This put me in great fear ; for everything 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 was utterly entranced. I could not under- 
 stand 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 
 Avas 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 
 surrounds them renders those who see that which is so 
 supernatural 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 immediately away.^ 
 
 4. On one of the feasts of St. Paul,3 when I was at 
 Mass, there stood before me the most Sacred Humanity,* 
 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 
 
 2 Philipp. a SS. Trinitate, Theolog. Mystic, par, 2, tr. 3, art. 8 : 
 " Quamvis in principio visiones a daemone fictae aliquam habeant pacem 
 ac dulcedinem, in fine tamen confusionem et amaritudinem in anima 
 Telinquunt ; cujus contrarium est in divinis visionibus, quse ssepe 
 turbant in principio, sed semper in fine pacem anim^^ relinquunt." 
 St. 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. ' ' 
 
 3 See ch. xxix. § 4. 
 
 4 " 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 Gratian, 
 Union del Alma, cap. 5. Madrid, 1616). 
 
2l8 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII. 
 
 enough to have 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 according 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.5 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 to me that I indulged 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 con- 
 fessor, 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 anything of the kind ; neither would I tell 
 a lie for the whole world.^ This he knew well enough ; 
 
 5 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 omninm 
 infima, est magis exposita illusioni diaboli, nisi forte huic visioni 
 corporali \-isio intellectualis adjungatur, ut in apparitione S. Gabrielis 
 archangeli facta Beatae Virgini." 
 
 ' See ch. xxx. § 18. 
 
CH. XXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 2I9 
 
 and, accordingly, he contrived to quiet me ; and I felt so 
 much the going 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 anything 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 white- 
 ness and brilliancy alone are inconceivable. It is not a 
 brilliancy which dazzles, but a delicate whiteness and a 
 brilliancy infused, furnishing the most excessive delight to 
 the eyes, never wearied thereby, nor by the visible bright- 
 ness which enables us to see a beauty so divine. It is a 
 light so different from any light here below, that the verj- 
 brightness of the sun we see, in comparison 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 anything 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 maj;^ be, 
 can ever, in the whole course of his life, arrive at any 
 imagination of what it is. God puts it before us so instan- 
 taneously, 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. 
 
220 LIl-E OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII. 
 
 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 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 duU 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,? I 
 had converse for manj' years with men of great learning. 
 But I did ask them if this or that were a sin or not : as 
 for everything 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, 
 difi&culties increase my devotion ; and the greater the 
 diflSculty, the greater the increase. 
 
 11. I wiU 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 hfelike, for it is plain that 
 
 7 Ch. XXV. § 18. 
 
CH. XXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 221 
 
 it is a dead thing. But let this pass, though to the 
 purpose, and Hterally true. 
 
 12. I do not say this by way of comparison, for com- 
 parisons are never exact, but because it is the truth itself, 
 as there is the same diflference 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 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, especially 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, imprinted 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. 
 
222 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII. 
 
 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 
 sucQOur it in a most supernatural way, 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 desola- 
 tion, of which I shall speak hereafter ;8 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 beginning within it ; for 
 though the former vision, which I said represented God 
 without any likeness of Him,9 is of a higher kind, yet 
 because of our weakness, in order that the remembrance 
 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, commands 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 representa- 
 tions in order to undo the true vision which the soul has 
 had : but the soul resists instinctively, is troubled, dis- 
 
 8 Ch. XXX. §§ 9, 10. See St. John of the Cross, Obscure Night, bk. ii. 
 ch. 7. 
 
 9 Ch. xxvii. I 3. 
 
CH. XXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 223 
 
 gusted, and restless ; 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.'" 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, pro- 
 vided 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, 
 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 
 whiteness of one of our Lord's Hands'' 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,'^ it far transcends anything 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 
 accomplish 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 weak- 
 ness 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 
 
 '" Ch. XXV. § 8. ■■ See § 2. " § 7, SKpra. 
 
224 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII. 
 
 support him, nor supply strength to his head : on the con- 
 trary, 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. 
 
 1 8. 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 com- 
 parison 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 
 man}' ; though I had spoken of it to no one, except my 
 confessor, or to those to whom he commanded '3 me to 
 speak of it. 
 
 ig. 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, possess- 
 ing 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. These jewels I could 
 not 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 
 "3 See ch. xxiii. § 14. 
 
CH. XXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 225 
 
 another person through the instrumentality of these | 
 visions. 
 
 20. My confessor, who was, as I said before,'* 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, there- 
 fore, 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 anything I might say to him. They gave instances of 
 others who were deluded. 's All this distressed me. I 
 began to be afraid I should find no one to hear my con- 
 fession,'^ and that all would avoid me. I did nothing but 
 weep. 
 
 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 
 anything for His sake. So he told me that if I did not 
 offend God, nor swerve from the instructions he gave me, 
 there was no fear I should be deserted by him. He en- 
 couraged me always, and quieted me. He bade me never 
 to conceal anything from him ; and I never did.''' 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 confession all that time ; for in the great per- 
 
 '* Ch. xxiv. § 5. 
 
 '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). 
 
 •* Inner Fortress, vi. i, § 4. 
 
 '7 Ch. xxvi. § 5 ; Inner Fortress, vi. 9, ^ 7. 
 P 
 
226 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXVIII. 
 
 secutions that fell upon me, and the many harsh judgments 
 of me which our Lord permitted,— many of which I did 
 not deserve, — everything 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 
 regarded 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. '9 As I spoke to them care- 
 lessly, 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 under- 
 stand me. He 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 con- 
 sideration, 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 concluded 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 amendment, — 
 and so he would reprimand me. This lasted some time, 
 
 ■' See ch. xxv. § 18. 
 
CH. XXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 227 
 
 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.'s 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. 
 
 I. I HAVE wandered far from the subject ; for I undertook 
 to give reasons why the vision was no work of the imagi- 
 nation. For how can we, by any efforts of ours, picture 
 to ourselves the Humanity of Christ, and imagine 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 
 contemplate 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 
 
 '9 2 Paralip. xx. 12 ; " Sed cum ignoremus quid agere debeamus, 
 hoc solum habemus residui, ut oculos nostros dirigamus ad Te." 
 "° See ch. xxx. § 6. 
 
228 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXIX. 
 
 that it could be fashioned by the understanding ? But as 
 to the vision of which I am speaking, there are no means 
 of bringing 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 anything 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 hereafter.' 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 
 contribute nothing towards them — we cannot add to them, 
 nor can we take from them ; our own efforts can neither 
 make 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 
 
 » Ch. xl. 
 
CH. XXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 229 
 
 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. Sometimes I saw Him on the cross, in the 
 Garden, crowned with thorns, — but that was rarely ; 
 sometimes also carrying His cross because of my neces- 
 sities, — 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-minister 2 could not hear me — began to say that 
 
 ' Baltasar Alvarez was father-minister of the house of St. Giles, 
 Avila, in whose absence she had recourse to another father of that 
 house {Ribera, i. ch. 10). 
 
230 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXIX. 
 
 I was certainly under the influence of Satan. He bade 
 me, now that I had no power of resisting, always to make 
 the sign of the cross when I had a vision, to point my 
 finger at it by way of scorn,3 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.* 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 I 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. I was always praying to that 
 efiect, and with many tears. I had recourse also to 
 St. Peter and St. Paul ; for our Lord had said to me — it 
 was on their feast that He had appeared to me the first 
 time 5 — that they would preserve me from delusion. I 
 used to see them firequently most distinctly on my left 
 hand ; but that vision was not imaginary. These glorious 
 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 
 
 3 Y diese higas. " Higa es una manera de menosprecio que hacemos 
 cerrando el puno, y mostrando el dedo pulgar por entre el dedo indice> 
 y el medio " {Cobarruvias, in voce). 
 
 * 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. g, § 7. 
 
 s See ch. xxvii. § 3, and ch. xxviii. § 4. 
 
CH. XXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 23I 
 
 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.* 
 He told me to say to them that this was 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 
 incomparably 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.7 
 
 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, E 
 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. 
 
 « Ch. XXV. § 18. 
 
 ^ The cross was made of ebony (Rtbera). It is not known wher& 
 that cross is now. The Saint gave it to her sister, Dona Juana de 
 Ahumada, who begged it of her. Some say that the Carmelites of 
 Madrid possess it ; and others, those of Valladolid (De la Fuente). 
 
232 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXIX. 
 
 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 impetuosities^ of love, 
 though not so intolerable as those of which I have spoken 
 l)e&)re',9~nor 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 causing suffocation, and are beyond control. 
 That prayer is of a much lower order ; and those agitations 
 should be avoided by gently endeavouring to be recol- 
 lected ; 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 
 te inwardly under control, and not as a caldron, fiercely 
 boiling because too much fuel has been applied to it, and 
 out of which everything 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 
 
 8 See Relation, i. § 3. ' Ch. xx. § 11. 
 
CH. XXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 233 
 
 which come out of these emotions, and which do so much 
 harm. 
 
 12. In the beginning, I hadv 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 discretioti, therefore, is necessary at first, in order 
 that everything may proceed gently, and that the opera- 
 tions of the spirit may be within ; all outward manifes- 
 tations 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 otherwise ; for an arrow is driven into the entrails 
 to the very quick, '° 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," the soul would wish to be always 
 dying of this wound. 
 
 14. This pain and bliss together carried me out of 
 myself, 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 anything 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 : 
 
 " Inner Fortress, vi. 11, § 2 ; St. John of the Cross, Spiritual Canticle, 
 St. I, p. 22, Engl, trans. 
 " §8. 
 
234 '-'^E °^ ST. TERESA. [CH. XXIX. 
 
 " Quemadmodum desiderat cervus ad fontes aquarum " ! " 
 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 certain penances ; the painfulness of which, and 
 even the shedding 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 J_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 anything else ; 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 havejt times 
 a vision of this kind : 1 1 saw an angel close by rne, on my 
 left side, in bodily form. This I am not accustomed to 
 see, unless very rarely. Though I have visions of angels 
 frequently, yet I see them only by an intellectual vision, 
 such as I have spoken of before. '3 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 beau- 
 tiful — 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. '+ Their names they never tell 
 
 " Psalm xli. i : "As the longing of the hart for the fountains of 
 waters, so is the longing of my soul for Thee, O my God." 
 
 '3 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 BaHes, 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. 
 
CH. XXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 235 
 
 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 explain 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, 's 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 
 excessive 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.'^ 
 
 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. '7 
 
 ig. 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 publicly 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,'^ — which is in many ways 
 very different from it, and of greater worth. On the other 
 
 tf. "5 See Relation, viii. | i6. 
 
 '^ "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 
 occasion was discovered in Seville in 1700 (" En las internas en- 
 tranas"). 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 Fucnte). 
 
 ■7 Brev. Rom. in fest. S.Teresias, Oct. 15, Lect. v. : "Tanto autem 
 divini amoris incendio cor ejus conflagravit, ut merito viderit Angelum 
 ignito jaculo sibi praecordia transverberantem." The Carmelites keep 
 the feast of this piercing of the Saint's heart on the 27th of August. 
 
 '3 Ch. XX. § II. 
 
236 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXX. 
 
 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. 
 
 ST. PETER OF ALCANTARA COMFORTS THE SAINT. GREAT 
 TEMPTATIONS AND INTERIOR TRIALS. 
 
 I. 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 
 possible enough for bodily pain and spiritual joy to dwell 
 together ; but the coexistence of a spiritual pain so ex- 
 cessive as this, and of joy so deep, troubled my under- 
 standing. Still, 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 
 measure, — and, for the moment, altogether, — by bringing 
 to the place where I was that blessed friar, Peter of 
 Alcantara. Of him I spoke before, and said something of 
 his penance.' Among other things, I have been assured 
 that he wore continually, for twenty years, a girdle made 
 of iron.* He is the author of certain little books, in 
 Spanish, on prayer, which are now in common use ; for, 
 
 ' Ch. xxvii. §§ 17, 18, 19. 
 
 " Hoja de lata, "cierta hoja de hierro muy delgada" (Cobarruvias, 
 Tesoro, in voce). 
 
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 237 
 
 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 St. 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 discern. 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 profitable 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 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.+ 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 understood 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. 
 
 3 Ch. xxiv. § 5. Dona Guiomar de Ulloa. 
 4 Ch. xxvi. § 5. 
 
238 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXX. 
 
 It was at a later time that God enabled me to understand 
 myself, and describe the graces which His Majesty bestows 
 upon me. It was necessary, 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,^ 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 has begun to raise in the 
 same way. At that time, however, it must have been only 
 a beginning 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 people,^ — 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,'' 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 
 
 ■■ See ch. xxviii. § 24. ' Ch. xxiii. § 7. 
 
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 239 
 
 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 satis- 
 fied, — 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 greatest 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 con- 
 fessor, 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. Accordingly, 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. 
 
 8. I could not give thanks enough to God, and to my 
 glorious father St. Joseph, who seemed to me to have 
 brought him here. He was the commissary-general of the 
 custody^ of St. 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 trials, together with bodily pains 
 and afflictions arising from violent sicknesses ; so much so, 
 
 ^ A "custody" is a division of the province, in the Order of St. 
 Francis, comprising a certain number of convents. 
 
240 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXX. 
 
 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 dis- 
 tress ; for my understanding was so dull, that I had a 
 thousand doubts and suspicions whether I had ever under- 
 stood matters aright, thinking that perhaps all was fancy, 
 and that it was enough for me to have deceived myself, 
 without also deceiving 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 ex- 
 perience, 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 
 miserable, and though it is painful to us to see ourselves as 
 we are, and though we have most deep convictions of our 
 own wickedness, — deep as those spoken of just now,9 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, bringing with it calm, sweetness, and light. It 
 is no doubt painful ; 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 
 
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 24! 
 
 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 everything 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 ;'° 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 continued 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 moment ; and occasionally, by means 
 of things so trivial that I should laugh at them at any 
 other time, he makes it stumble over anything he likes. 
 The soul, laid in fetters, loses all control over itself, and all 
 power of thinking of anything but the absurdities he puts 
 before it, which, being more or less unsubstantial, incon- 
 
 ■" Job i. 
 
242 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXX. 
 
 sistent, 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 seems 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 recoUects nothing of its own 
 former experience. Vocal prayer or solitude is only a 
 greater affliction, because the interior sufiering — whence it 
 comes, it knows not — is unendurable, and, as it seems to 
 me, in some measure a counterpart of hell. So it is, as our 
 Lord showed me in a vision ;" 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 : if 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 under- 
 " See ch. xxxii. § i, &c. 
 
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 243 
 
 stood them less at the end than I did when I began : 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 harsh' 
 ness, that they were astonished at it afterwards when I 
 told them of it. They said that they could not help them- 
 selves ; 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 born« 
 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 deceived them. I 
 saw well enough that I would not do so advisedly, nor tell 
 them an untruth ;" but everything 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 fre- 
 quently, — I used to find rest after Communion ; now and 
 then, even, as I drew near to the most Holy Sacrament, 
 
 " See ch. xxviii. § 6. 
 
244 ^'^^ °^ ^'^" TERESA. [CH. XXX. 
 
 all at once my soul and body would be so well, that I was 
 amazed.'3 It seemed to be nothing else but an instan- 
 taneous dispersion 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, '4 — 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, most 
 refined, and made glorious to behold, our Lord dwelling 
 within it. These trials afterwards 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 came 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 useless 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 works, 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 satisfaction. On other occasions, I find myself 
 unable to pray or to fix my thoughts with any distinctness 
 upon God, or anything that is good, though I may be 
 
 '3 See Way of Perfection, ch. Ixi. § 2 ; but ch. xxxiv. § 8 of the earlier 
 editions. 
 
 '* Ch. XX. § 23, ch. XXV. § 22, ch. xxvi. 3. 
 
CH. XXX.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 245 
 
 alone ; but I have a sense that I know Him. It is the 
 understanding and the imagination, I believe, which hurt 
 me here ; for it seems to me that I have a good will, dis- 
 posed 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. 's 
 
 19. Sometimes I laugh at myself, and recognise my 
 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 in- 
 different things, considering what is going on here, or 
 there, or elsewhere. I see then, more and more, the ex- 
 ceeding 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 
 
 "5 " Un Credo." 
 
246 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXX. 
 
 think that I had attained to this degree of prayer ; and so, 
 when I could not come to any other conclusion, 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. 
 
 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, in- 
 different 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 ft 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, ^^ 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 
 attain 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 up- 
 wards. So is the soul, in general ; it is not at rest, nor can 
 
 '«.Ch. xxix. § II. 
 
CH. XXX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 247 
 
 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 Gospel'7 has a great attraction for me ; and, indeed, 
 so it had even when I was a little child, though I did not 
 understand 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 inscrip- 
 tion, " Domine, da mihi aquam."'^ 
 
 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 worthless, and so I laughed at myself. 
 The failure of bodily strength, sufficient to do something 
 for God, is no light affliction for those souls to whom He, 
 in His goodness, has communicated this fire of His love in 
 its fulness. It is a very good 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, 
 
 »7 St. John iv. 5 — 42 : the Gospel of Friday after the Third Sunday 
 in Lent, where the words are, " hanc aquam." 
 
 '8 "Lord, give me this water" (St. John iv. 15). See ch. i. § 6; 
 and Way of Perfection, ch. xxix. § 5 : ch. xix. § 5 of the earlier editions. 
 
248 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXI. 
 
 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 compre- 
 hends the blessing he possesses, unless he knows by ex- 
 perience what it is to be powerless to serve God in anything, 
 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 anything, 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,'^ I have so little 
 to spend, and perhaps, after all, nothing will be gained. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXL 
 
 OF CERTAIN OUTWARD TEMPTATIONS AND APPEARANCES OF 
 SATAN. OF THE SUFFERINGS THEREBY OCCASIONED. 
 
 COUNSELS FOR THOSE WHO GO ON UNTO PERFECTION. 
 
 I. 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 wTought almost 
 in pubUc, and in which his presence could not be ignored.' 
 2. I was once in an oratory, when Satan, in an abomi- 
 nable 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, without any shadow. He spoke in a fearful way, 
 and said to me that, though I had escaped out of his 
 
 ■9 Ch. xiv. § 12. 
 I 2 Cor. ii. II : " Xon enim ignoramus cogitationes ejus." 
 
CH. XXXI.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 249 
 
 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 suffering 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 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 those 
 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 
 immediately: 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 
 
250 
 
 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXI. 
 
 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 everything ordained 
 by the Church is verj' 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. 
 AU 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 dehvered 
 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 aU credit, and would not tell a lie for 
 anything, — perceived a most offensive smell, like that of 
 brimstone. I smelt nothing myself ; but the odour lasted 
 long enough to become sensible to them. 
 
 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 consul- 
 tation, 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 always when 
 our Lord was pleased that some soul or other, persuaded 
 by me, advanced in the spiritual life. Certainly, what I 
 
CH. XXXI.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 25I 
 
 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 abomi- 
 nable 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 way. 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 undertook 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 im- 
 proved, 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 month I was most 
 grievously tormented; and then it was that these 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 continued free ; he could never give thanks enough 
 
252 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXI. 
 
 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 temptation 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 man}- years for the dehverance 
 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 pmrmitted 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 httle afraid of them; — because I see they cannot stir 
 without 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 under- 
 stand 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 sp)eak, however, 
 of what happened to me once on the night of All Souls. 
 I was in an oratory, and, having said one Noctum, was 
 sajdng 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 away. 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 that 
 moment come forth out of purgatory — they must have 
 been near their deliverance, and I thought that Satan 
 
CH. XXXI.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 253 
 
 might in this way have been trying to hinder their release. 
 It is very rarely that I saw Satan assume a bodily form ; 
 I know of his presence through the vision I have spoken 
 of before,' 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 occa- 
 sionally 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. 
 
 = Ch. xxvii. § 4. 
 
254 ^^'^^ °^ ^'^* TERESA. [CH. XXXI. 
 
 I think at once of the life of Christ and of the Saints, and 
 then my 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 perse- 
 cuted ; 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 
 everything 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 it was nothing else 
 but a temptation. A Dominican friar, of great learning, 
 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 suiferings 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. 3 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 
 
CH. XXXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 255 
 
 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 was not true humility, because it disturbed 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 
 any how, as I could, to contrive he should know of my 
 sins : * 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 oftentimes the 
 result of temptation. It seemed to me that I was 
 deceiving everybody — though, in truth, they deceived 
 themselves, by thinking that there was any good in me.5 
 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 unmortified life ; for a soul left in 
 
 ■• Way of Perfection, ch. Ixv. § 2 ; but ch. xxxvi. of the previous 
 editions. 
 
 5 See ch. x. § 10. 
 
256 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXI. 
 
 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 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 wiU 
 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 Uving 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 necessary here ; 
 for, though the poor soul have not yet begun to walk, 
 the world will have it fly; and, though its passions be 
 not whoUy overcome, men wiU have it that they must 
 be under restraint, even upon trying occasions, as those 
 
CH. XXXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 257 
 
 of the Saints are, of whom they read, after they are con- 
 firmed 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 everything 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 them- 
 selves in this matter ; they would fly before God gives 
 them wings. 
 
 21. I believe I have made this comparison on another 
 occasion,^ 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 themselves, 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, unless 
 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 super- 
 natural 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 them- 
 selves ; for it is very necessary for our weak nature that 
 we should have great confidence, that we should not be 
 
 « Ch. xiii. § 3. 
 
258 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXI. 
 
 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 cUngs to us if, as I said before,^ grace be not given 
 to us fully to understand what everything 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 me ; for it could not always be on 
 subjects I preferred, owing to the difference of our con- 
 ditions — she being married. I was therefore as much 
 alone as I coidd; yet I felt that her troubles gave me 
 more trouble than did those of my neighbours, and even 
 some anxiety. In short, I found out that I was not so 
 detached as I thought, and that it was necessary 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 we 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 believe me and throw this embarrass- 
 ment behind his back, for it is a chain which no file can 
 sever; only the help of God, obtained by prayer and 
 
 ' Ch. XX. § 38. 
 
CH. XXXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 259 
 
 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 cater- 
 pillar 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 
 result as the missing of a note on the organ when it is 
 played, — the whole music 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 opportunity 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 arrangements 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 little nothings and trifles which I gave up 
 
26o LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXI. 
 
 when I began — or, at least, of some of them : the straws 
 which I said ^ 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 taught me. But 
 I never asked them, that they might not know how little 
 I knew. It suggested 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 
 I could not sing well, it gave me no pain at all, and I sang 
 much better. This miserable self-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 progress, — I was always myself good for nothing, 
 — I used to fold up their mantles when they left the choir. 
 
 8 Ch. XXX. § 25. 
 
CH. XXXI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 261 
 
 I looked on myself as doing service to angels who had 
 been there praising God. I 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 trifling. 
 
 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 anything worth recounting amid so many evil 
 things, when I am recounting the great mercies I received 
 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 
 nothing 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, 
 who has made much of mine, will make more of his. May 
 it please His Majesty to give me this grace, that I may 
 not remain for ever at the beginning ! Amen.s 
 
 9 Don Vicente de la Fuente thinks the first "Life" ended helre; 
 that which follows was written under obedience to her confessor, 
 F. Garcia of Toledo, and after the foundation of the monastery of 
 St. Joseph, Avila. 
 
262 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXII. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 OUR LORD SHOWS ST. TERESA THE PLACE WHICH SHE HAD 
 BY HER SINS DESERVED IN HELL. THE TORMENTS 
 THERE. HOW THE MONASTERY OF ST. JOSEPH WAS 
 FOUNDED. 
 
 I. 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 
 apparently into hell. I understood that it was our Lord's 
 will I should see the place which the devils kept in readi- 
 ness 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 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,' 
 without speaking of others of different kinds, yea, even 
 those of which I have also spoken,^ 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. 
 
 ' See ch. v. § 14, ch. vi. § i. " Ch. xxxi. § 3. 
 
CH. XXXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 263 
 
 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 that the soul is continually being torn from the 
 body, it would be nothing, for that implies the destruc- 
 tion 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 everything 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 compassion saved me. I have listened to 
 people speaking of these things, and I have at other times 
 dwelt on the various torments of hell, though not often, 
 because^imy 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 
 
264 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXII. 
 
 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,3 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 bear, I 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 one 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, everything 
 seems endurable in comparison with one instant of suffer- 
 ings such as those I had then to bear in hell. I am fiUed 
 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 
 vehement desires for the salvation of souls ; for certainly 
 I believe that, to save even one from those overwhelming 
 torments, 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 
 
 3 In 1558 (De la Fuente). 
 
CH. XXXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 265 
 
 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 matter which 
 concerns us so much, we did not rest satisfied with doing 
 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 infirmi- 
 ties, 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 ourselves. 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. 
 
266 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXII. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 according 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, com- 
 manded me to visit these persons ; and thus it was so 
 arranged that I could not be long together in the monas- 
 tery. 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 com- 
 municated the instructions which I received from my 
 confessors. 
 
 13. It occurred once to a person with whom I was 
 speaking to say to me and the others that it was possible 
 to find means for the foundation of a monastery, if we 
 were prepared to become nuns like those of the Barefooted 
 
CH. XXXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 267 
 
 Orders.* I, having this desire, began to discuss the matter 
 with that widowed lady who was my companion, — I have 
 spoken of her before,5 — 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 
 great promises, — that the monastery would be certainly 
 built ; that He would take great delight therein ; that it 
 should be called St. Joseph's; that St. 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 hesi- 
 
 * This was said by Maria de Ocampo, niece of St. 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). 
 
 5 Ch. xxiv. § 7. Dona Guiomar de UUoa. 
 
268 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXII. 
 
 tated ; 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. 
 
 1 6. 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,^ 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 acknow- 
 ledge the house. Then there was a discussion about the 
 revenues of the monastery, 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 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 monas- 
 tery ; 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 console 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 
 
 ' The Provincial of the Carmelites : F. Angel de Salasar {De la 
 Fuenie). 
 
CH. XXXII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 269 
 
 resolved to withstand everybody 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 everybody ; 
 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 con- 
 sidered 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. 
 
 ig. She went to a very learned man, and a very great 
 servant of God, of the Order of St. Dominic,^ 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 an account of everything, 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 whatever, 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 
 ^ F. Pedro Ibanez {Bi la Fuente). 
 
270 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXII. 
 
 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 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 project, for he had already heard the popular cry : 
 moreover, he, as everybody did, thought it foUy ; and a 
 certain nobleman also, as soon as he knew that we had 
 gone to him, had sent him word to consider well what he 
 was doing, and to give 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.* 
 
 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 noblemans of 
 whom I spoke before ; " he looked on it — so, indeed, it was 
 — as a means of great perfection, because the whole foun- 
 dation was laid in prayer. He saw also very many diffi- 
 culties before us, and no way out of them, — yet he gave 
 
 ^ Ch. xxxiii. § 8. 9 Francis de Salcedo. 
 
 '" Ch. xxiii. § 6. 
 
CH. XXXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 27I 
 
 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," 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 XXXHL 
 
 THE FOUNDATION OF THE MONASTERY HINDERED. 
 OUR LORD CONSOLES THE SAINT. 
 
 I. When the matter was in this state — so near its conclu- 
 sion, 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 execution in another way. When the 
 Provincial refused us, my confessor bade me forthwith 
 to think no more of it, notwithstanding the great trouble 
 and distress which our Lord knows it cost me to bring it 
 to this state. When the work was given up and aban- 
 doned, 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 
 commandment of my Provincial to justify me. 
 " Caspar Daza. See ch. xxiii. § 6. 
 
272 LIFE OF ST, TERESA. [CH. XXXIII. 
 
 ^ 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 
 procured 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 command- 
 ment 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 himseK 
 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 command- 
 ment, 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 anything 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 anything to 
 do for the future with it, or even to speak of it any more, 
 seeing the scandal it had occasioned. He made some 
 
CH. XXXlII.j WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 273 
 
 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 anything myself, and 
 whether I was to blame for anything that was an offence 
 unto God ; whether all my visions were illusions, all my 
 prayers a delusion, and I, therefore, deeply deluded and 
 lost. This pressed so heavily upon me, that I was alto- 
 gether 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 I 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,' as well as of those profounder trances. I 
 kept silence, however, and never spoke of those graces to 
 any one. The saintly Dominican ^ 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 coinmunicated 
 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 
 
 ' Ch. xxi. § 8, ch. xxix. §§, 8, 9. 
 ' Pedro Ibanez. See ch. xxxviii. § 15. 
 s 
 
274 LIPE °^ ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIII. 
 
 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 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 afiraid of that, for my soul must be in a very bad 
 state if there was anything 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 
 anything 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 monas- 
 tery 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 comforted, 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 anything in the world. And I, 
 too, could say the same thing ; for where he reassured and 
 
CH. XXXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 275 
 
 consoled me formerly by bis mere learning, he did so now 
 through that spiritual experience he had gained of super- 
 natural things. And God, too, brought him here in time ; 
 for He saw that his help would be required in the foun- 
 dation of the monastery which His Majesty willed 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 
 could never rid myself of the thought that the monastery 
 would be founded. At the end of that time, the then 
 Rectors of the Society of Jesus having gone away. His 
 Majesty brought into his place another,* of great spiritu- 
 ality, 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 accom- 
 plishment 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 remem- 
 brance. 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 
 
 3 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). 
 
 ■t Caspar de Salazar was made rector of the house in Avila in 1561, 
 therein succeeding Vasquez (^Bollandists, ibid.). 
 
276 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIII. 
 
 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 opera- 
 tions of the Spirit of God alone; for now and then it 
 seemed as if these great impetuosities 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 tell what it was, nor do I know of anything 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 rejoice 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 whatever. 
 
 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 discernment of spirits. He gave me 
 great consolation. Shortly after I had begun to speak to 
 him, our Lord began to constrain 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 
 
CH. XXXIII.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 277 
 
 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.s 
 
 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,^ who lived out of the town, should buy a house, and 
 prepare it as if for herself, with money which our Lord 
 provided for us.? 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 giving 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.^ Sometimes, in 
 my affliction, I used to say : O my Lord, how is it that Thou 
 commandest me to do that which seems impossible ? — for, 
 though I am a woman, yet, if I were free, it might be 
 
 5 St. Teresa was commanded by our Lord to ask Father Baltasar 
 Alvarez to make a meditation on Psalm 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 
 St. Teresa, i. ch. xiv.), there was no further hesitation on the part of the 
 Saint's confessor. 
 
 ' Juana de Ahumada, wife of Juan de Ovalle. 
 
 7 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 In Fuente). 
 
 ' 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 St. Teresa, who was present. Her sister was greatly 
 hurt, and persuaded the Saint to return to the monastery at once 
 (Reforma, i. ch. xl. § i). 
 
278 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIII. 
 
 done; but when I am tied 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 
 knowing what to do, unable to pay the workmen, St. 
 Joseph, my true father and lord, appeared to me, and 
 gave me to understand 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 
 Communion, 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 ! 9 I 
 was alarmed, and saw that He had good reasons to 
 complain. I went to the little house, arranged the 
 divisions of it, aind 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. 
 Everything was coarse, and nothing more was done to it 
 than to render it not hurtful to health — and that must be 
 done everywhere. 
 
 15. As I was going to Communion on her feast, St. 
 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 St. 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 
 ' St. Luke ix. 58 : " Filius autem hominis non habet ubi caput reclinet." 
 
CH. XXXIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 279 
 
 this, and we 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,'" 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 anybody, 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 
 Assumption of our Lady — I was in the church of the 
 monastery of the Order of the glorious St. 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 profound 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. At first 
 I did not see who was putting it on me. Afterwards I 
 saw our Lady on my right hand, and my father St. Joseph 
 on my left, clothing me with that garment. I was given 
 to understand 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 St. 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 us" — 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 com|?are 
 
 ■0 Pius IV., on Dec. 5, 1562 (Bouix). See ch. xxxix. § 19. 
 " Ch. xxxii. § 14. 
 
280 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIII. 
 
 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 splen- 
 dours 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 exceed- 
 ingly 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 
 excessive lustre, that was not dazzling, but soft. I did 
 not see St. Joseph so distinctly, though I saw clearly that 
 he was there, as in the visions of which I spoke before," 
 in which nothing is seen. Our Lady seemed to be very 
 young. 
 
 17. When they had been with me for awhile, — 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 then, 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. Everything took place in such a way that 
 I could never have a doubt — though I often tried — that 
 the vision came from God. '3 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 
 
 ■* See ch. xxvii. 
 
 ■3 "Nuestro Senor," "our Lord," though inserted in the printed 
 editions after the word " God," is not in the MS., according to Don V. 
 de la Fuente. 
 
CH. XXXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 281 
 
 directed me, — for we should never have succeeded other- 
 wise, — and most favourable was the result. 
 
 19. And as to subsequent events, it was very convenient 
 to be under the Bishop,'* 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 with at the 
 beginning, as I shall show hereafter, 's 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. 
 
 I. 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 great fear lest the Provincial should be spoken to 
 about it when he came, and find himself compelled to 
 order me to give it up ; 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.' 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 
 
 "■• Don Alvaro de Mendoza, Bishop of Avila, afterwards of Palencia. 
 ' '5 See ch. xxxvi. § ig; Way of Perfection, ch. v. § 10; Foundations, 
 ch. xxxi. § I. , 
 
 ' Dona Luisa de la Cerda, sister of the Duke of Medina-Coeli, 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). 
 
282 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIV. 
 
 good works which resulted from it. This lady knew the 
 Provincial well ; and as she was a person of some con- 
 sideration, 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 com- 
 panion. 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 earnestly 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 
 monaster}', 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. 1 repeated this to the 
 rector, and he told me that I must go by aU 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 
 confusion when I thought of the reasons why they sent 
 for me, 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 
 
CH. XXXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 283 
 
 who sent for me should be so much consoled, that a visible 
 improvement was the immediate result : she was com- 
 forted every day more and more. This was very remark- 
 able, because, 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 careless : 
 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 everything 
 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 hking. 
 
 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 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, 
 
284 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIV. 
 
 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 sta3' 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 per- 
 mitted 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,^ happened to arrive. When I was at 
 Mass, in a monastery of his 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 
 
 ' F.Vicente Barron, Dominican (see ch. v. §. 8), according to 
 F. Bouix, on the authority of Ribera and Yepez ; but the Carmelite 
 Father, Fr. Antonio of St. 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. 
 
CH. XXXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 285 
 
 they were not to be told, and that I was not to tell them. 
 He replied that the Dominican father,^ 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 hesitation. 
 
 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,* 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 
 services 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 everybody 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 
 necessity for his doing so, because I could not do anything 
 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 recollected, 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 distance 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, 
 
 3 Pedro Ibanez {Boiiix). * Ch. xxxiii. § 11. 
 
286 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIV. 
 
 " 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 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 trusts 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 in- 
 consistent 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,^ is what I have always felt the most, 
 
 5 Father Bouix 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 observa- 
 tion on the alleged discrepancy between the MS. and the printed text. 
 The observation of F. Bouix, however, is more important, and deserves 
 credit, — for Don Vicente may have failed, through mere inadvertence, 
 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. 
 Six years after this note was written Don Vicente published a fac- 
 simile by photography of the original text in the handwriting of the 
 Saint, preserved in the Escurial. The words are not " confiar," but 
 " estar cierta." 
 
 ' Ch. xxxiii. § 12. 
 
CH. XXXIV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 287 
 
 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, 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 waj' attain to 
 but by experience ; and thus many are in error, as I have 
 said 7 when they would understand spirituality without 
 being spiritual themselves. I do not mean that a man 
 7 Ch. xiv. § 10. 
 
288 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIV. 
 
 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 teaching 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 f 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 ;9 he must 
 strive 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 contem- 
 plative 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 impossible, he will do him- 
 self but little good, and still less to his penitent. 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 ascertained ; 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 in- 
 creasing 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. 
 
 * I Thess. V. 19 : " Spiritum nolite extinguere." 
 ' St. Matt. xix. 27 : " Apud Deum autem omnia possibilia sunt." 
 
CH. XXXIV.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 289 
 
 He has given him bodily heahh, 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 munifi- 
 cence 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,'° and also of two other religious of the 
 Order of St. 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. 
 
 ig. 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. 
 
 '" F. Caspar de Salazar. 
 T 
 
ago LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIV. 
 
 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 them- 
 selves, 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 anybody 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, everything 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 blindness, 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 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 un- 
 worthiness 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 g[iven 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 
 
CH. XXXIV.] WRITTEN- BY HBRSELF. SQI 
 
 alwaj's present at similar interviews, and how much He 
 was pleased when people thus found their delight in speak- 
 ing 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 perse- 
 cutions. I do not think it expedient now to speak further 
 on this point ; if, however, you, ray 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,'^ relating to 
 this house, as well as others, of which I shall speak here- 
 after, relating to it and to other matters, have been accom- 
 plished. 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 communi- 
 cate with her, as I said before." She, I know, repeated 
 them to others, and these know that I lie not. May God 
 never permit me, in any matter whatever, — much more in 
 things of this importance, — to say anything but the whole 
 truth ! 
 
 24. One of my brothers-in-law '3 died suddenly ; and as- 
 I was in great distress at thisr because he had no oppor- 
 tunity 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 ; 
 
 " Ch. xxvi. § 3. 
 
 " Ch. XXX. § 3. Dona Guiomar de Ulloa. 
 
 '^ Don Martin de Guzman y Barrientos.husband of Maria de Cepeda, 
 the Saint's sister. 
 
292 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXV. 
 
 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 con- 
 fession, and look to her soul in ever)^hing. 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, vmtil 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 ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE FOUNDATION OF THE HOUSE OF ST. JOSEPH. THE 
 OBSERVATION OF HOLY POVERTY THEREIN. HOW THE 
 SAINT LEFT TOLEDO. 
 
 I. When I was staying with this lady,' already spoken of, 
 in whose house I remained more than six months, our 
 Lord ordained that a holy woman * of our Order should 
 
 ' Dona Luisa de la Cerda. 
 
 ' 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 St. Teresa, about a 
 reform of the Order. Her confessor made light of her revelations, and 
 she then referred them to F. Caspar de Salazar, a confessor of St.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 
 
CH. XXXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 293 
 
 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 under- 
 take this work. Her progress in the service of 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 monas- 
 teries. 
 
 2. Until I spoke to her, I never knew that oiir rule, 
 before it was mitigated, required of us that we should 
 possess nothing ; 3 nor was I going to found a monastery 
 without revenue,* 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 
 
 St. Francis. The three made the journey on foot, and, moreover, bare- 
 footed. 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 Carmelites 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. ii, 1562 ; but the house was formally constituted July 
 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. 
 
 3 The fourth chapter of the rule is : " NuUus fratrum dicat sib 
 aliquid esse proprium, sed sint vobis omnia communia." 
 
 ■• See ch. xxxii. § 16. 
 
294 ^^^^ °^ ^^' TERESA. [CH. XXXV. 
 
 read the Constitutions 5 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 anything 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.^ 
 
 3. As for myself, I never doubted that this was the 
 better part ; for I had now for some time wished it were 
 possible in my state to go about begging, for the love of 
 God — to have no house of my own, nor anything else. 
 But I was afraid that others — if our Lord did not give 
 them the same desire — might live in discontent. More- 
 over, I feared that it might be the cause of some 
 distraction : for I knew some poor monasteries not very 
 i^ecollected, and I did not consider that their not being 
 recollected was the cause of their povert}', 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. 
 
 4. As I took the advice of many in everything, 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 wa}-, 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. 
 
 s 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 Pontijids. 
 A.D. 1432). 
 
 ^ See Relation, i. § 10. 
 
CH. XXXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 295 
 
 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 
 friar ^ 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 means 
 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 F. Pedro Ibanez. « Ch. xi. § 2. 
 
296 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXV. 
 
 I never feared myself. Our Lord changed the dispositions 
 also of the licentiate, — I am speaking of the Dominican 
 friar,9 — who, as I said, wrote to me that I should not found 
 the monastery without an endowment. 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." 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 monastery" 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. When 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 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 would be. I told 
 my confessor of it, and he commanded me to return at 
 once: that to do so was clearly the most perfect way; 
 
 9 F. Pedro Ibafiez. "> The house of DoSa Luisa, in Toledo. 
 " The monastery of the Incarnation, Avila. 
 
CH.XXXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF, 297 
 
 and that, because the heat was very great, — it would be 
 enough if I arrived before the election, — 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 importunities 
 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 consola- 
 tions 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 opportunities of spending many hours in prayer ; 
 
298 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXV. 
 
 and I saw that I was going to throw myself into a fire ; 
 for our Lord had already 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, — yet I went forth 
 rejoicing. I was distressed 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." 
 
 12. As I have just said, I could not understand how this 
 could be. I thought of this illustration : if I were pos- 
 sessed 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 pleasure to that person surpasses any 
 ■pleasure I have in that jewel myself, I should not be 
 distressed in giving away that or anything 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 dis- 
 position, — which, under other circumstances, would have 
 been enough to have caused me great pain, — at this time, 
 though I wished to feel it, I could feel none. 
 
 13. The delay of another day was so serious a matter 
 in the affairs of this holy house, that I know not how they 
 would 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. '3 It 
 seems, then, that His Majesty has chosen these whom he 
 has drawn hither, among whom I am living very. much 
 
 " 2 Cor. xii. 9 : " Virtus in infirmitate perficitur." 
 '3 See Way of Perfection, ch. xxii. ; but ch. xiii. ed. Doblado. 
 
CH. XXXV.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 299 
 
 ashamed of myself. '+ 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 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, according to its laws, they might 
 have lived contented. Our Lord has multiplied their joy, 
 so that they see clearly how he had given them a hundred- 
 fold for the one thing they have left, '5 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 in 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 austerities and penance 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 anything 
 but of loving Thee'^ in earnest, and really giving up every- 
 
 '* See Foundations, ch. i. § i. 
 
 'S St. Matt. xix. 29: "Et omnis qui reliquerit domum . . . propter 
 nomen Meum, centuplum accipiet, et vitam ffiternam possidebit.'' 
 
 '' When the workmen were busy with the building, a nephew of 
 the Saint, the child of her sister and Don Juan de Ovalle, was struck 
 by some falling stones, and killed. The workmen took the child to his 
 mother : and the Saint, then in the house of Doria Guiomar de UUoa, 
 was sent for. Dofia 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 after St. Teresa, when he was twenty-eight years of age (Reforma, 
 i. c. 40, § 2). 
 
30O LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXV. 
 
 thing for Thee, in order that Thou, O my Lord, might make 
 everything easy. It is well said that Thou feignest to 
 make Thy law difficult : '7 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 who- 
 soever really enters, travels most securely. No mountain 
 passes and no cliffs are near it : these are the occasions 
 of sin. I call that a pass, — a dangerous 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 
 open 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 not 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 security 
 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 of 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 thousand 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 ! 
 
 '' Psalm xciii. 20 : " Qui fingis laborem in praecepto." 
 
CH. XXXVI.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 3OI 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE FOUNDATION OF THE MONASTERY OF ST. JOSEPH. 
 PERSECUTION AND TEMPTATIONS. GREAT INTERIOR TRIAL 
 OF THE SAINT, AND HER DELIVERANCE. 
 
 I. Having now left that city,^ 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,* came also from Rome the commission and the Brief 
 for the erection of the monastery.^ I was astonished my- 
 self, and so were those who knew how our Lord hastened my 
 coming, when they saw how necessary it was, and in what 
 a moment our Lord had brought me back.* I found here 
 the Bishop and the holy friar,5 Peter of Alcantara, and 
 that nobleman,^ 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 immedi- 
 ately drawn to give them His protection. It was the 
 approbation of the holy old man,7 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 
 
 ' Toledo. ° Avila. In the beginning of June, 1562. 
 
 3 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 Doiia Aldonza de Guzman, and to 
 Dofia Guiomar de Ulloa, her daughter. 
 
 s Don Alvaro de Mendoza (De la Fuente). 
 
 * Don Francisco de Salcedo. 
 
 7 St. Peter of Alcantara. " Truly this is the house of St. 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). 
 
302 
 
 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI. 
 
 think not quite eight days, — during which he was also ill ; 
 and almost immediately afterwards our Lord took him to 
 Himself.8 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. Everything was done in the utmost secrecy ; and if 
 it had not been so, I do not see how anything 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-law 9 should be ill, and his wife 
 away, and himself in such straits that my superiors gave 
 me leave to remain with him. Nothing, therefore, was 
 found out, though some persons had their suspicions ; 
 stiU, 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.'" 
 
 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 remained still to be done. My friend was not here," 
 for we thought it best she should be away, in order the 
 better to hide our purpose. I saw that everything 
 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 under- 
 stood our Lord meant me to carry. 
 
 ° In less than three months, perhaps ; for St. 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 St. Joseph. 
 
 ' Sefior Juan de Ovalle. 
 
 '° 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). 
 
 " Dona Guiomar de UUoa was now in her native place, Ciudad 
 Toro. 
 
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 3O3 
 
 4. When everything was settled, our Lord was pleased 
 that some of us should take the habit on St. Bartholomew's 
 Day. The most Holy Sacrament began to dwell in the 
 house at the same time." With full sanction and 
 authority, then, our monastery of our most glorious 
 father St. Joseph was founded in the year 1562. '3 I was 
 there myself to give the habit, with two nuns'+ of the 
 house to which we belonged, 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 before '5 
 that he had bought it, for the purpose of concealing 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 imperfection 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 withdraw from everything more and 
 more, and to follow my rule and vocation in the greatest 
 perfection and seclusion, yet I wished to do so only con- 
 ditionally : for if I should have learnt that it would be for 
 the greater honour of our Lord to abandon it, I would 
 
 " The Mass was said by Gaspar Daza. See infra, § 18 ; Reforma, 
 i. c. xliv. § 3. 
 
 '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). 
 
 '* They were Dona Ines and Dona Ana de Tapia, cousins of the 
 Saint. There were present also Don Gonzalo de Aranda, Don Francisco 
 Salcedo, Julian of Avila, priest ; DoSa 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). 
 
 '5 Ch. xxxiii. § 14. 
 
304 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI. 
 
 have done so, as I did before on one occasion,'^ 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,'^ — 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 eflfect a 
 work which I believed to be for the service of our Lord, 
 and to the honour of the habit of His glorious Mother. 
 This was my anxiety. 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 St. Joseph. 
 Not that I thought I had done anything 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 fuU 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 instrument 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 
 
 '^ Ch. xxxiii. § 3. 
 
 »? The first of these was Antonia de Henao, a penitent of St. Peter 
 of Alcantara, and who wished to enter a religious house far away from 
 Avila, her home. St. Peter kept her for St. 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 UUoa. 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 Caspar 
 Daza who brought her to the Saint. The fourth was Maria de Avila, 
 sister of Julian the priest, and she was called Mary of St. Joseph. It 
 was at this house, too, that the Saint herself exchanged her ordinary 
 designation of Dona Teresa de Ahumada for Teresa of Jesus {Reforma, 
 i. c. xliv. § 2). 
 
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 305 
 
 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 without the commandment of the Pro- 
 vincial. I did certainly think that the Provincial would 
 be displeased because I had placed the monastery under 
 the jurisdiction of the Bishop '^ without telling him of it 
 beforehand ; though, as he would not acknowledge 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 com- 
 pletely blotted out of my memory, just as if they had 
 never been. The only thing I remembered was my own 
 opinion ; and every virtue, with faith itself, was then sus- 
 pended 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 on myself a heavy 
 obligation, and might possibly end in despair. He also 
 suggested that perhaps it was he himself who had con- 
 trived 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 darkness 
 of soul as I can never describe. When I found nayself in 
 this state, I went and placed myself before the most Holy 
 Sacrament, though I could not pray to Him ; so great was 
 '8 See Foundations, ch. ii. § i, and ch. xxxi. § i. 
 
306 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI. 
 
 my anguish, that I was Uke 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 ; everything 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 ! Cer- 
 tainly this was, I believe, 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 ? 
 
 g. After making these and other reflections, and doing 
 great violence to myself, I promised before the most Holy 
 Sacrament to do all in my power to obtain permission to 
 enter this house, and, if I could do it with a good con- 
 science, 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 
 
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 307 
 
 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 1 
 
 10. Such a contest left me greatly fatigued, and laugh- 
 ing 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 religion, 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 
 fall 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, 's 
 and there was some apparent ground for it. The prioress '° 
 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, a^d 
 my father St. 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 would have been a great comfort, 
 because I should have nobody to speak to, and might have 
 
 '9 Ch. xxxiii. §§ i, 2. 
 '° Of the Incarnation, 
 
308 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. L^H. XXXVI. 
 
 some rest and solitude, of which I was in great 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 
 anything 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 aU perfection. I thought of Christ receiving 
 sentence, 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 
 perfectly 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. After- 
 wards I spoke more plainly to the Provincial alone ; he was 
 
CH. XXXVI.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 309 
 
 very much satisfied, and promised, if the new monastery 
 prospered, and 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 monas- 
 tery 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 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 
 monastery should be broken up. Only one*' — he was of 
 the Order of St. Dominic, and objected, not to the monas- 
 tery 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 persecution. The in- 
 habitants were so excited, that they talked of nothing else ; 
 
 =' F. Domingo Bafies, the great commentator on St. 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. 
 
^lO 'LIVE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI. 
 
 every one condemned me, and hurried to the Provincial 
 and to my monastery. 
 
 i6. I was no more distressed by what they said of me 
 than if they had said nothing ; but I was afraid the monas- 
 tery would be destroyed : that was painful ; so also was it 
 to see 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 attention. Now and then everything 
 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.** 
 ^ See ch. xxxix. § 24. 
 
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 3II 
 
 18. A very great servant of God, and a lover of all 
 perfection, a priest's who had helped me always, went to 
 the court on this business, and took great pains. That 
 holy nobleman '+ 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 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,^* 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 
 respite. 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 ifjve^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 after- 
 
 '3 Gonzalo de Aranda (De la Fuente). 
 =* Don Francisco de Salcedo {ibid.). 
 =5 Ch. xxiii. § 6; Caspar Daza {ibid.). 
 
312 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI. 
 
 wards to resign it. At other times, too, wicked and im- 
 perfect 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 
 already 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 
 Alcantara, appeared to me. He was then dead.^^ But he 
 had written to me before his death — for he knew the great 
 opposition 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 
 monastery, 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 everything 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,*^ 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 astonishment, 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 
 
 '^ He died Oct. 18, 1562. =7 Ch. xxvii. §. 18. 
 
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 3I3 
 
 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, nov/ 
 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 completion of the monastery : the last 
 six months and the first six months were the most painful. 
 
 23. When at last the city was somewhat calm, the 
 licentiate father, the Dominican friar^^ who helped us, 
 exerted himself most skilfully 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 nuns ^s 
 — 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 
 
 28 ■. El Padre Presentado, Dominico. Presentado en algunas Reli- 
 giones es cierto titulo de grado que es respeto del Maestro Como 
 Licenciado " (Cobarruvias, in voce Presente). The father was Fra 
 Pedro Ibanez. See ch. xxxviii. §.15. 
 
 =9 From the monastery of the Incarnation. These were Ana 
 of St. John, Ana of All the Angels, Maria Isabel, and Isabel of St. Paul. 
 St. Teresa was a simple nun, living under obedience to the prioress of 
 St. Joseph, Ana of St. 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. 
 
314 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI. 
 
 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 remained 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 withdrew 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 with- 
 out 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.3' 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 anybody ; 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. Soli- 
 tude 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 
 
 3' See Way 0/ Perfection, ch. ii. 
 
CH. XXXVI.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 3I5 
 
 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,^^ — yet 
 the sisters think it light on many points, and so they have 
 other observances, which we have thought necessary for 
 the more perfect keeping of it. And I trust in our Lord 
 that what we have begun will prosper more and more, 
 according to the promise of His Majesty. 
 
 29. The other house, which the holy woman of whom I 
 spoke before33 laboured to establish, has been also blessed 
 of our Lord, and is founded in Alcala : it did ngt escape 
 serious opposition, 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 con- 
 s' Brockie, iii. 20: "Jejunium singulis diebus, exceptis Dominicis, 
 
 observetis a Festo Exaltationis Sanctas Crucis usque ad diem Dominicae 
 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 nimiae de- 
 bilitatis remedio sint sumendae." That is the seventh section of the 
 rule. 
 
 3s See ch. xxxv. § i. 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 Doiia Leonor de Mascareiias to persuade St. 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 
 {Reforma, ii. c. x. §§ 3, 4). 
 
3l6 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVI. 
 
 cise, 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 sweet- 
 ness : 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 with their Bridegroom 
 Christ, in order to five 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. 
 
CH, XXXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 317 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE EFFECTS OF THE DIVINE GRACES IN THE SOUL. THE 
 INESTIMABLE GREATNESS OF ONE DEGREE OF GLORY. 
 
 i. 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,' 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 myself, what will He be to those who shall serve Him 
 truly? Let all people resolve to please His Majesty, 
 seeing that He gives such pledges as these even in this 
 life.2 
 
 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 anything 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 under- 
 stand 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 ; 3 and so I wish that I myself 
 
 ' The Saint, having interrupted her account of her interior life in 
 order to give the history of the foundation of the monastery of St.Joseph, 
 Avila, — the first house of the Reformed Carmelites, — here resumes that 
 account, broken off at the end of § lo of ch. xxxii. 
 
 " Ephes. i. 14 : " Pignus hasreditatis nostrae." 
 
 3 St. John iii. 34 : " Non enim ad mensuram dat Deus spiritum." 
 
3l8 LIFE OF ST. TERESA, [CH. XXXVII. 
 
 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 contemplation 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 everything, 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 
 revelation which our Lord in His mercy sent me, a great 
 gain accrued to my soul, and that in some of the visions 
 this 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, whenever I found anybody 
 well disposed towards myself, and I liked him, I used to 
 have such an aflfection 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 
 
CH. XXXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 319 
 
 hurtful, that it brought my soul to the very verge of 
 destruction. 
 
 5. But ever since I saw the great beauty* 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 
 contemplation of the image which I have within me, I 
 find myself so free, that from that instant everything 
 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, compared 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 anything 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 con- 
 fessors, 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. 5 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 rudeness. 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 before them how little I was 
 attached to anybody, 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 suspicions of me 
 always arose in the beginning. 
 
 ■• Ch. xxviii. §§ i — 5. 
 
 s See ch, xl. § 25 ; Way of Perfection, ch. vii. § i ; but ch. iv. of the 
 previous editions. 
 
320 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVII. 
 
 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 continually, 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 certain persons may speak. If a poor man 
 have any business with these, it will cost him many goings 
 and comings, and currj'ing 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 acknowledged ; and though he 
 might wish ever so much to be recognised, people will 
 not own him when he appears as others ; 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 themselves, 
 and their authority must come to them from others. 
 
 9. O my Lord ! O my King ! who can describe Thy 
 
CH, XXXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 32I 
 
 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 with Thee about everything 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 comparison 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,^ 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 dajs 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.7 
 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. 
 
 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 before^ — to something 
 ' See ch. xx. § 14. ' See ch. xxx. § 19. ^ See ch. xxx. §§ 18, 25. 
 V 
 
322 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVII* 
 
 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 everything hinders the fruition 
 of Thee ; where, besides, 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 possible for me to hide myself 
 from Thee, as Thou hidest Thyself 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 of what is going on. The fact 
 
CH. XXXVII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 323 
 
 is, I did not know how I was to live when I came into 
 this house. Any negligence in being much more cere- 
 monious with people than they deserve is not taken as a 
 jest ; on the contrary, they look upon it as an insult 
 deliberately offered ; so that it becomes necessary 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 meaning ; 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 professor'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 illustrious who was 
 not hitherto addressed as the magnificent. 
 
 18. I know not where this will stop: I am not yet 
 
324 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII. 
 
 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 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 together, 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 speaking of the greatness of God I am 
 come to speak of the meanness 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. 
 
 I. One night I was so unwell that I thought I might be 
 excused making my praj'er ; so I took my rosary, that I 
 might employ myself in vocal prayer, trying not to be re- 
 collected 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 
 remained 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 
 
CH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 325 
 
 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 St. Paul ! — 
 she sees the things of heaven ; or a St. Jerome. And 
 because these glorious Saints had had such visions, I was 
 so much the more afraid, and did nothing but cry ; for I did 
 not think it possible for me to see what they saw. At last, 
 though I felt it exceedingly, I went to my confessor ; for I 
 never dared to keep secret anything 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 iind it impossible ; for the mere dif- 
 ference 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 exceed- 
 ingly loathsome. In a word, the imagination, however 
 strong it may be, can neither conceive 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 iriy words will do 
 
326 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII. 
 
 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 know- 
 ledge 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 I had continued in that trance for 
 ever, and that I had not returned to consciousness, because 
 of an abiding sense of contempt for everything here below ; 
 all seemed 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,' it happened to me once when I was suffer^ 
 ing from my heart,- — for, as I have said,* 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 im- 
 possible it was for me, even if I made the effort, to have 
 any appreciation whatever 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, indepen- 
 dent of our efforts ; God effects it all Himself ; for His 
 Majesty reveals the truth in such a way, that it remains so 
 deeply impressed 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 
 
 ' Ch. xxxiv. Dona Luisa de la Cerda, at Toledo. 
 = Ch. iv. § 6. 
 
CH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 327 
 
 its prison, and at rest. This elevation of the spirit, and 
 the vision of things so high, ip 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 who 
 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 
 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.* 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 consola- 
 tion, 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. Everything 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 everything 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 
 
 "I I St. Peter ii. 11 : "Advenas et peregrinos." 
 4 Philipp. iii. 20 : " Nostra autem conversatio in coelis est." 
 
328 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII. 
 
 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 
 forfeited 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 withdraw 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 
 tlaey have brought with them, and because of the great 
 fortitude which my soul derived from them ; and yet every 
 one separately 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 ; 5 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 recognised 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 
 
 5 The hije of Christ, by Ludolf of Saxony. 
 
CH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 329 
 
 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 Sjove, 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 con- 
 tinuing 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 did not know what I was doing, nor 
 how I could have received so great a grace. I neither 
 heard nor saw anything, 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.* She told 
 me that she gave him that cope in consideration of the 
 service he had rendered her by helping to found this 
 house,7 that it was a sign that she would preserve his soul 
 
 ' F. Pedro Ibanez. See ch. xxxiii. § 5, ch. xxxvi. § 23. "This 
 father died Prior of Trianos," is written on the margin of the MS. by 
 F. Banes (De la Fuente). 
 
 ' St. Joseph, Avila, where St. Teresa was living at this time. 
 
330 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII- 
 
 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 anything 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 
 St. Thomas was with him.^ He died in great joy, longing 
 to depart out of this land of exile. 
 
 1 6. 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 weak- 
 ness, 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. 
 
 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 ; 9 but I 
 will not say anything 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 eleva- 
 tion 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 everything 
 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, 
 
 ^ See below, § 41. 
 
 " 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. 
 
CH. XXXVIH.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 33I 
 
 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. 
 
 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 anything 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 consolation, 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 
 
332 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII. 
 
 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." 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 remained 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, jdtogether 
 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 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 
 
 '° 2 Cor. xii. 2 : " Sive in corpore nescio, sive extra corpus nescio." 
 " See ch. xxviii. 
 
CH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 333 
 
 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," 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 sovereign 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 foimd a treasure beyond 
 his expectations, which were mean. When he saw him- 
 self 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 marvellously 
 Thou sustainest souls, showing to them, not all at once, 
 but by little and little, the abundance of Thy riches ! 
 When I behold Thj' 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. 
 
 '= Job iv. 15 : " Inhorruerunt pili carnis meae." 
 
334 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII. 
 
 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, '3 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,'4 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 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 ran 
 away, hadst Thou but given them leave. So troubled 
 
 , '3 The biographers of the Saint say that she often found, on return- 
 ing from an ecstasy, certain passages written, but not by herself: this 
 seems to be alluded to here (De la FuenU). 
 '^ § 22. 
 
CH. XXXVIII.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 333 
 
 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.'s 
 
 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 damned. 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 cere- 
 moniousness 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 in the grave, so great a multitude of them was 
 therein waiting to receive it, that I was beside myself at 
 
 '3 St. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch. xxvi. 
 vol. i. p. 183. 
 
336 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII. 
 
 the sight, and it required no slight- courage on my part 
 not to betray my 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 evils 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 brevitj', 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 great 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 
 
CH. XXXVin.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 337 
 
 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 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 earnestness 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 recollected, 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 Provincial, and ascend to heaven. This vision 
 was not imaginary, like the preceding, but like those 
 others of which I have spoken before ; '^ 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 cer- 
 tainly 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 
 
 •* See ch. xxvii. 
 w 
 
338 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXVIII. 
 
 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,'7 I occasionally had, and stiU 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 soid to 
 God, and hearing 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 understood that His Majesty went with 
 him by way of special grace. 
 
 40. Another brother of our Order, a good friar, was 
 very iU ; and when I was at Mass, I became recollected, 
 and saw him dead, entering into heaven without going 
 through purgatory. 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 perfection 
 which that of a friar is. 
 
 41. I will speak no more of these things, because, as I 
 have just said,'^ 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 CarmeUte father, the holy friar 
 Peter of Alcantara, and that Dominican father of whom I 
 spoke before. '9 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. 
 
 '? Ch. XXX. § 9. '» § 34. 
 
 »9 § 15. Fr. Pedro Ibanez. 
 
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 339^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 OTHER GRACES BESTOWED ON THE SAINT. THE PROMISES 
 OF OUR LORD TO HER. DIVINE LOCUTIONS AND VISIONS. 
 
 I. 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 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 con- 
 sidered 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 rnonths was beyond all endurance ; and 
 his pain was so great that he tore his own flesh. My 
 
340 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX. 
 
 confessor, the rector of whom I have spoken,' 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 
 dishonourable 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. I 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 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.* 
 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 
 
 ' Ch. xxxiii. § 10. F. Caspar de Salazar. 
 ° 3 Kings xix. 12 : " Sibilus aurse tenuis." 
 
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 34I 
 
 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 praj'ers, 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 purgatory, 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. 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 
 
342 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX. 
 
 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 them- 
 selves to me at once.3 
 
 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 imperfections I trace in 
 myself! what remissness in Thy service! 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,* 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 
 
 3 See St. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk, iii. ch. i. 
 < Ch. xxxiv. § I. 
 
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 343 
 
 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 away one single syllable ; so, when I do not clearly 
 remember everything 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 measure s 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 persons, 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 
 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 understand the matter; and herein He regards the 
 progress and advancement of souls, not the years they 
 
 s St. John iii. 34 : " Non enim ad mensuram dat Deus spiritum." 
 
344 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX. 
 
 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 diificulty, 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 
 everything, 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 sacrifice 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 accomphshed 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 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. 
 
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 345 
 
 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 seeming 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 anything 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. 
 
 ig. 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 envy- 
 ing these, and desiring to do what they do, were of any 
 
346 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX. 
 
 help to me, I should not be so far behind them as I am in 
 pleasing Thee ; 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;^ and I 
 was comforting myself at seeing the whole afiair con- 
 cluded, 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 everything 
 accomplished, I never absolutely believed ; neither, how- 
 ever, 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, I 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 1 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 consolations, I am 
 
 ° See ch. xxxiii. § 14. 
 
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 347 
 
 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 
 boldness, 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.7 
 
 24. I have sat down so often to write, and have been 
 so many days writing these three leaves, — for, as I have 
 said,^ I had, and have still, but few opportunities, — that 
 I forgot what I had begun with, namely, the following 
 vision.9 
 
 ■ 25. I was in prayer, and saw myself on a wide plain 
 
 ' St. Matt. XX. 9 — 14 : " Volo autem et huic novissimo dare sicut et 
 tibi." 
 
 8 Ch. X. § 13. 
 
 9 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 St. Joseph of Avila. See ch. xxxvi. § 18. 
 
348 LIFE OF ST. TERESA, [CH. XXXIX. 
 
 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 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 everything 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 myself, 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." 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. 
 
 '" 2 Paralip. xx. 12 : " Hoc solum habemus residui, ut oculos nostros 
 dirigamus ad Te." 
 
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 349 
 
 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 sustain the little virtue 1 have 
 in desiring to serve Thee : be Thou blessed for ever- 
 more ! 
 
 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 detached from all things as I used to be. When I found 
 myself 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 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 consolation He 
 gives me, fill me with the utmost shame, when I remember 
 what I am. I have said it before, I think," 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 
 
 " Ch. XX. § 4. 
 
350 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XXXIX. 
 
 wretchedness, and my understanding can make no reflec- 
 tions ; this, also, seems to me at times to be supernatural. 
 
 31. Sometimes I have such a vehement longing for 
 Communion; 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 know- 
 ledge 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, and Him who sat on it I did not see, 
 but only an exceedingly 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 cherubim, for they were very different in 
 their glory, and seemingly all on fire. The difference is 
 great, as I said before ; " and the joy I then felt cannot be 
 described, either in writing or by word of mouth ; it is 
 inconceivable to any one who has not had experience of it. 
 I felt that everything 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 everything 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 affection thereto ; for 
 everything 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. 
 
 " Ch. xxix. § 16. 
 
CH. XXXIX.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 35! 
 
 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.'s 
 It seems to burn up the old man, with his faults, his luke- 
 warmness, 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 
 service 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,'* 
 whether these visions came from God or not, our Lord 
 appeared, and, with some severity, said to me : " O 
 children of men, how long will you remain hard of heart !" 
 I was to 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 anything 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 understanding and such 
 peace as I had. 
 
 35. He gave me also to understand that, when such and 
 
 '3 Ch. xxix. § II. "■• § 28. 
 
352 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XL. 
 
 SO many persons had told me the visions were from God, I 
 should do wrong if I did not believe them.'S 
 
 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 astonished 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 mystery, 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 reception there, as well as the place where she now is. 
 To describe 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 Ladj', 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 twice ; but I never saw it when others were receiving 
 Communion. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 VISIONS, REVELATIONS, AND LOCUTIONS. 
 
 I. One day, in prayer, the sweetness of which was so 
 great that, knowing how unworthy I was of so great a 
 blessing, 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,' I never forget the way I saw myself 
 there, — as I was thinking of this, my soul began to be 
 
 's See ch. xxviii. §§ 19, 20. 
 
 "'' Commonly called the Creed of St. Athanasius. 
 
 ' Ch. xxxii. § I. 
 
CH. XL.J WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 353 
 
 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.^ 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 believed 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 everything 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 everything 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. 
 
 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 
 
 = Ch. xxviii. § 14. 
 3 St. Matt. V. 18 : " Iota unum aut unus apex non prasteribit a lege." 
 X 
 
354 
 
 LIFE OF ST. TERESA, [CH. XL. 
 
 reverence for God ; it gives me a notion of His Majesty 
 and power in a way which I cannot explain. I can under- 
 stand that it is something very high. I had a very great 
 desire never to speak of anything 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 
 humility. 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 an5rthing 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 under- 
 stood 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 under- 
 stood exceedingly 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 impressed 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. AU 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, notwith- 
 standing 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 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 1 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 
 
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HRRSELF. 355 
 
 hatred of lying, yet I did involve myself in many 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, side- 
 ways, 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 sculp- 
 tured — 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. 
 
 g. 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 conservation 
 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. 
 
 lo. 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,* and as it is laid 
 down in books on prayer, where they speak of where we 
 are to seek God. The glorious St. Augustin,5 in particular, 
 
 * Ch. iv. § 10. 
 
 5 " Ecce quantum spatiatus sum in memoria mea quaerens 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. § i ; but ch. xxviii. 
 rf previous editions. 
 
356 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XL. 
 
 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. 
 
 II. 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,* but a moment, — the soul continues still to be re- 
 collected, unable to recover itself even in outward things ; 
 for the two powers — the memory and the understanding — 
 are, as it were, in a frenzy, extremely disordered. This, I 
 say, happens occasionally, particularly 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 recover what 
 they have lost, and not do everything at once, for in that 
 case much harm might come of it. I know this by ex- 
 perience, 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 director. 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 already more than once said this,^ and even all I am 
 
 ^ Ch. XX. § 26. 
 
 ' Ch. XXV. § 18, ch. xxvi. § 6. See St. John of the Cross, Mount 
 Carmel, bk. ii. ch. xxii. 
 
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 357 
 
 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 experience 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 remem- 
 brance. I believe, 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 anything ; however, I must have seen some- 
 thing, 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 some- 
 thing 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,^ 
 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 everything, because 
 nothing can be beyond it. It was a fearful thing for me 
 
 ' §9- 
 
358 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XI- 
 
 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 brilliancy of that hght. 
 
 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 verj^ presence of His Majesty, and that we 
 are demeaning ourselves so irreverently before Him ! I 
 saw, too, how completely heU is deser\-ed 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 axe. In this we see more and more of His merci- 
 fulness, 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 
 distinctly, and when we too shall look on the sins we have 
 committed ! O my God, I have been, oh, how bUnd ! I 
 have often been amazed at what I have written ; and you, 
 my father, be you not amazed at anj-thing, but that I am 
 still li^-ing, — 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 m}-self, 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 prajTng before the most Holj- 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, whick 
 he opened, and then told me to read certain words, written 
 
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 359 
 
 in large and very legible letters ; they were to this effect : 
 "In times to come this Order will flourish; it will have 
 many martyrs." 9 
 
 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 defenders 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 
 
 9 Yepez says that the Order here spoken of is the Carmelite, and 
 Ribera understands the Saint to refer to that of St. Dominic. The 
 BoUandists, 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 St. Bartholomew 
 that the Order in question is the Order of our Lady of Mount Carmel. 
 Don Vicenti, 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 St. Bartholomew, 
 addressed to Fray Luis of the Assumption, in which the saintly com- 
 panion of St. Teresa says that the "Order was ours." Don Vicente 
 has published the letter in the Appendix, p. 566. 
 
360 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XL. 
 
 him know whether his acceptance of a bishopric would be 
 for the service of God. After Communion our Lord said 
 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, — 
 because in this life we could not continue in the same 
 state." At one time I should be fervent, at another not ; 
 now disquieted, 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 aflFection for 
 them, and to comfort myself with those whom I see to be 
 very great servants of God." 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 
 
 '° Job xiv. 2 : " Nunquam in eodem statu permanet." 
 " See ch. xxxvii. §§ 4, 6. 
 
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 361 
 
 His service, and howjl 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." I saw myself so great a slave to myself, 
 and, on the other hand, the spirit asked for time for itself. 
 I was so much distressed that I began to weep exceed- 
 ingly, 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 was 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 He would 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; '3 for I am very often in great trouble. It 
 pleased our Lord that the graces He wrought in me 
 should be published abroad,'* as He told me some years 
 ago they should be. It was a great pain to me, and I 
 
 '= See ch. vii. § 19. "3 ch. xxx. § 11. 
 
 '■• Ch. xxxi. §§ 16, 17. 
 
362 LIFE OF ST. TERESA. [CH. XL. 
 
 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, '5 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 some are afraid to speak to me, and even to 
 hear my confession, and though others have much to say 
 about me, because 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 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, — 
 
 »s Ch. xxviii. § 6. 
 
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 363 
 
 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 
 Himself, 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,'^ and therefore my 
 trouble has been great in writing ; but it will be a blessed 
 trouble if I have succeeded in saying anything that will 
 cause one single act of praise to our Lord. If that were 
 the case, I should look upon myself" as sufficiently re- 
 warded, even if you, my father, bujrnt at once what I have 
 written. I would rather it were not burnt before those 
 three saw it, whom 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 measure, 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 disordered life. 
 Still, I have not wasted more time, nor given it more 
 attention, than was necessary for writing it ; yet I have 
 
 '^ See ch. xiv. § 12. 
 
364 LIFE OF ST, TERESA. [CH. XL. 
 
 put down all that has happened to me with all the sim- 
 plicity 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. 
 
 I.H.S. 
 The Holy Spirit be ever with you, my father.'^ Amen. 
 It would not be anything 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 of myself, and in retracing my manifold wretched- 
 ness. 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 everything 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,'^ 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. 
 
 '' 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 Ibafiez. It is the fifteenth letter 
 in the first volume of the edition of Madrid ; but it is not dated there. 
 
 '' Juan de Avila, commonly called the Apostle of Andalusia. 
 
CH. XL.] WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 365 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 St. Joseph of Avila, as in p. 169. '9 — Fray 
 Do BaNes." 
 
 '' I.e. of the MS. See p. 267 of this translation. 
 
THE RELATIONS OR MANIFESTATIONS 
 
 SPIRITUAL STATE 
 
 ST, TERESA SUBMITTED TO HER CONFESSORS. 
 
THE RELATIONS. 
 
 RELATION I. 
 
 SENT TO ST. PETER OF ALCANTARA IN I560 FROM THE 
 MONASTERY OF THE INCARNATION, AVILA.' 
 
 I. 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 recol- 
 lected, remains in repose, or falls into a trance, so that I 
 cannot in any way have the use of the faculties and the 
 
 ■ 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 St. Peter of Alcantara when he came to Avila 
 in 1560, at the time when the Saint was so severely tried by her 
 confessors 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 St. Peter of Alcantara, 
 to whom the Relation is addressed, and the more so because Ribera 
 does not claim them for any member of the Society, notwithstanding 
 the reference to them in §§ 22, 28. 
 
 "I. 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 anything whereby any one may be separated from Him, and the 
 devil does nothing whereby any one may be made to draw near unto 
 God. AH 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 St. Thomas that an angel of Hght may 
 Y 
 
370 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. i. 
 
 senses, — so much so, that the hearing alone is left ; but 
 then it does not help me to understand anything. 
 
 2. It often happens, when I am not even thinking of 
 the things of God, but engaged in other matters, and when 
 
 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 
 comparable to one of these visitations. 
 
 " 3. She never commits a fault, nor falls into an imperfection, 
 without 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. Everything herein is consistent with the Scriptures and the 
 teaching of the Church, and most true, according to the most rigorous 
 principles of scholastic theology. 
 
 " 6. This soul is most pure and sincere, with the most fervent 
 desires 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 St. Thomas. 
 
 "II. The spirit that speaks to her soul never tells her anything 
 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 anything through shame. 
 
 " 14. So great is the progress of her soul in this way, and the 
 
REL. I.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 371 
 
 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 eleva- 
 tion of spirit comes upon me so suddenly that I cannot 
 
 edification 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 
 understands that what she receives comes to her from the hand of our 
 Lord, and how little worth she is herself. 
 
 " 18. When they are withheld, anything 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 afflictions, 
 all of which leave her when she has these visions. 
 
 " 20. With all this, she undergoes great penances,' fasting, the 
 discipline, and mortifications. 
 
 "21. All that on earth may give her any pleasure, and her trials, 
 which are many, she bears with equal tranquillity 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 vsront 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 
 hei; 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 
 
372 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. i. 
 
 withstand 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 anything, 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 ;2 my life 
 seems to have come to an end, and so it makes me cry 
 out and call upon God ; and this comes upon me with 
 great vehemence. Sometimes I cannot remain sitting, so 
 great is the oppression of the heart ; and this pain comes 
 
 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 
 converse 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 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." 
 
 =■ See Life, ch. xxix. §§ 9 — 13. 
 
REL. I.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 373 
 
 on without my doing anything 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 con- 
 solations, and that all find help in their 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 
 ■describe 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 myself, 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 state 3 
 in anything ; 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 without any power whatever 
 to serve God, I feel this pain in a way wholly indescribable ; 
 the issue is delight, recollection, 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, 
 
 3 De la Fuente thinks she means the religious state. 
 
374 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. i. 
 
 but I am not able. It would be a great relief to me, and 
 it does relieve and cheer me, though v/hat 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 suflFer 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 con- 
 nections — seems oppressive, and myself to be as a slave, 
 except when I speak to those whose conversation is of 
 prayer and matters of the soul, — in these I find comfort 
 and joy ; * 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 everjrthing 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 per- 
 dition before this. These raptures and visions leave me in 
 possession of the blessings I shall now speak of; and I 
 
 * See Life, ch. xxiv. § 8, and ch. xxxi. § 22. 
 
REL. I.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 375 
 
 maintain that, if» there be any good in me, they are the 
 occasions of it. 
 
 g. I have made a very strong resolution never to offend 
 God, not even venially. I would rather die a thousand 
 deaths than do anything of the kind knowingly. I am 
 resolved never to leave undone anything 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 anything 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, 5 though imperfectly ; but 
 if I know that he wishes or commands anything, I would 
 not leave that 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 anything for myself.^ 
 
 11. In almost all the visions I have had, I have found 
 good, if it be not a delusion of Satan ; herein I submit 
 myself to the judgment of my confessors. 
 
 12. As to fine arid 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.7 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 conver- 
 sation be long, though to pass away the time, I am under 
 
 5 See Life, ch. xxiii. § 19. ^ See Lije, ch. xxxv. § 2. 
 
 ^ See Life, ch. ix. § 6, and ch. xiv. § 7. 
 
376 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. i. 
 
 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,^ 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 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 an)?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.9 
 
 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. Vainglory"— glory be to God!— so far as I know, 
 
 ' See § 3, above. 
 
 ' St. Matt. vi. 31: "Nolite ergo soUiciti esse, dicentes: Quid 
 manducabimus, . . . aut quo operiemur ? " 
 "" See Life, ch. vii. § 2. 
 
REL. I.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 377 
 
 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. Previously, 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 anybody 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 believe 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 suffering, and that I ask Him to send me, 
 giving me first the grace to bear it. 
 
 21. Everything 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 anything 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 
 
378 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. i. 
 
 I see it plainly enough. It seems to me that everybody 
 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 distress 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 themselves 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,'"^ 
 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 
 constant 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," 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. 
 
 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 for- 
 gotten, 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 anything, 
 I do not understand it ; I seem to be full of faults, and 
 without any resolution whatever 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 tha,t 
 
 " See Life, ch. ii. § 2. " § 2, above. 
 
REL. I.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 379 
 
 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 
 influence 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-recol- 
 iection, lasting but an Avi Maria, or through my drawing 
 near to communicate, I find my soul and body so calm, 
 so sound, the understanding so clear, and myself posses- 
 sing 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, '3 and that occasionally brought about through 
 raptures, and I find it last 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 considered 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 
 
 '3 See Life, ch> xx, § 29. 
 
380 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. i. 
 
 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 anything 
 about me, I wish to let him know my whole life,'* 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 mj' 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 mj' sins, that He has left unheeded so many 
 prayers of so many good people for two years, and I do 
 nothing else but ask everybody to pray to our Lord that 
 He would show me if this be for His glory, or lead me by 
 another waj-.'s I do not believe that these things would 
 have been permitted b}' 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 afiraid, seeing who it was that said so ; and 
 I thought that they 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.'* 
 
 "* See Life, ch. xxxi. § 17. 's See Life, ch. xxv. § 20. 
 
 '<^ See Life, ch. xxv. § 18. 
 
REL. II.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 381 
 
 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 anything, for any 
 consideration whatever, 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 anything, 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. 
 
 RELATION II. 
 
 to one of her confessors, from the house of dona 
 luisa de la cerda, in i562.' 
 
 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 
 
 ' Addressed, it is believed, to her confessor, F. Pedro Ibaiiez. This 
 Relation corresponds with ch. xxxiv. of the hife {De la Fuente). 
 
382 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. ii. 
 
 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.* 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, however, 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 
 depend 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 obsei:vance 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 with such great faith, that I do not think God 
 will ever fail those who serve Him, and without any doubt 
 whatever that there is, or can be, any time in which His 
 words are not fulfilled : I cannot persuade myself to the 
 contrary, 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 
 
 = See Life, ch. xxvii. 
 
REL. II.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 383 
 
 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 improvement 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 contrary, 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 resistance, 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 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; but, considering my service to Him in return, I am 
 exceedingly worthless, for I have received greater conso- 
 lation than I have given, though sometimes that gives me 
 grievous pain. My penance is very scanty, the respect 
 shown me great, much against my own will very often.3 
 However, in a word, I see that I live an easy, not a peni- 
 tential, life ; God help me, as He can ! 
 
 3 See Life, ch. xxxi. § 15. 
 
384 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. u. 
 
 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 myself 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 contra- 
 dictions of these montlis,+ 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 anything, 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 
 them fulfilled. Sorrow and joy, excepting in that which 
 relates 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, 
 
 * The Saint is supposed to refer to the troubles she endured during 
 the foundation of the monastery of St. Joseph. 
 
REL. n.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 385 
 
 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, particularly 
 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, 
 particularly learned men, in all detachment, and who will 
 not cleave to anything 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 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 vainglory, 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 
 rendering any service in return, being the most worthless 
 creature in the world. And so it is that I consider at 
 times how all, except myself, make progress ; I am good 
 for nothing in myself. This is not humility only, but the 
 
386 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. ii. 
 
 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 know 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 St. Paul,5 — ^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. Everything 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 great 
 
 5 Gal. ii. 20: "Vivo autem, jam non ego: vivit vero in me Christus." 
 
REL. III.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 387 
 
 power of -God might be made manifest. Unto Him be 
 praise for ever and ever ! Amen. 
 
 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.^ 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 myself. 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 HI. 
 
 OF VARIOUS GRACES GRANTED TO THE SAINT FROM THE YEAR 
 1568 TO I57I INCLUSIVE. 
 
 I. 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,' 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 St. 
 Joseph of Malagon, our Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me 
 
 ^ A celebrated Dominican, professor of theology in Salamanca 
 {Bouix). 
 
 ■ Alonzo Ramirez wished to have the right of burial in the new 
 monastery, but the nobles of Toledo looked on his request as unreason- 
 able. See Foundations, chs. xiv. and xv. 
 
388 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. hi. 
 
 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, 
 instead 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 great the pain must have been because of the many 
 wounds, and to be sorrowful. Our Lord told me not to be 
 sad because 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 
 anything. 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,^ 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 superiors 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 im- 
 possible.3 I resolved to execute His commands. 
 
 3. Our Lord told me something I was to tell another, 
 and as I v/as considering how I did not understand it at 
 all, — though I prayed to Him, and was thinking it might 
 
 = See Way oj Perfection, ch. viii. ; but ch. v. of the previous editions. 
 3 See Booh of the Foundations, ch. iii. 
 
REL. III.J OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 389 
 
 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 thou 
 always after a good intention in all things, and detachment ; 
 lift up 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,* having prayed 
 for awhile after Communion in great distress, because I 
 was so distracted that I could fix my mind on nothing, I 
 complained 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 Trinity 5 distinctly present in an intellectual 
 vision, whereby my soul understood through a certain repre- 
 sentation, 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 joyfully, 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.^ After- 
 wards 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 
 
 * In the copy kept in Toledo, the day is Tuesday after the Assump- 
 tion {De la Fuente). 
 
 5 Ch. xxvii. § 10. 
 
 ' St. John xiv. 23: "Ad eum veniemus, et mansionem apud eum 
 faciemus." 
 
390 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. hi. 
 
 such mercies to me, let me go out of His hand, and allowed 
 me to become so wicked ; for on the previous 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 perception 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 impos- 
 sible for me not to be recollected in so 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 some- 
 thing like a dove, which moved its wings with a sound. It 
 disturbed me so much, and so carried me away out of 
 myself, that it was with the utmost difficulty I received the 
 Host. All this took place in St. Joseph of Avila. It was 
 Father Francis Salcedo who was giving me the most Holy 
 Sacrament. 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 St. Joseph of Avila, in the 
 year 1571. 
 
 9. I retain to this day, which is the Commemoration of 
 St. Paul, the presence of the Three Persons of which I 
 spoke in the beginning -,7 They are present almost con- 
 tinually 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 
 
 ^ See § 6. 
 
REL. III.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 3gi 
 
 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 penetrates 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 
 foundations, 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 in doing My will." It seemed 
 to me, considering what St. Paul says about women, how 
 they should stay at home,^ — 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 the Scripture by 
 itself, without looking to the other parts also ; perhaps, if 
 they could, they would like to tie My hands." 
 
 1 1 . 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 
 I 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 boldest 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 
 
 * Titus ii. 5 : " Sobrias, domus curam habentes." 
 
392 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. hi. 
 
 monasteries of the Incarnation will gain ; resist not, for 
 My power is great." 9 
 
 12. Once, when thinking of the great penance practised 
 by Dona Catalina de Cardona," 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 confessors, 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 
 certain 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 derived a power which was a dominion over the 
 whole earth. I understood the meaning of those words in 
 the Canticle : " Let my Beloved come into His garden 
 and eat."" 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 im- 
 possible for any one who saw this as I saw it, — and I can 
 hardly explain it, — wiUingly 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 anything ; 
 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." 
 
 9 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 St. Joseph, to keep the rule in its 
 integrity. 
 
 " See Book of the Foundations, ch. xxviii. 
 
 " Cant. V. I : " Veniat dilectus meus in hortum suum, et comedat." 
 
REL. III.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 393 
 
 15. " Thou art ever desiring trials, and, on the other 
 hand, dechning 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 St. Sebastian, the first year of my 
 being in the monastery of the Incarnation" as prioress 
 there, at the beginning of the Salve, I saw the Mother of 
 God descend 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 Countess '3 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 
 when the sisters sing the praises of my Son, and will offer 
 them to Him." After this I remained in that prayer 
 which I 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 ? "'♦ 
 
 17. On the octave of the Holy Ghost, our Lord was 
 gracious unto me, and gave me hopes of this house, 's that 
 it would go on improving — I mean the souls that are in it. 
 
 18. On the feast of the Magdalene, our Lord again 
 
 •= A.D. 1572. 
 
 '3 Maria de Velasco and Aragon, Countess of Osorno (Ribera, lib. 
 iii. c. i). 
 
 '♦ See Relation iv. § 2. 
 
 's The monastery of the Incarnation, Avila (De la Fuente). 
 
394 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. hi. 
 
 confirmed 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 j-ear of my being prioress there, on the octave of 
 St. Martin, when I was going to Communion, the Father, 
 Fr. John of the Cross,'^ — 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 wiU be able to separate thee from Me," — giving me to 
 understand that the size of the Host rtiattered 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 to bestow such mercies on me, for 
 certainly I do not think that nature can bear them." I 
 remained thus the whole daj', as one utterly beside herself. 
 Afterwards I became conscious 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 St. Paul had the firuition of heavenly joys 
 
 "* St. 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 Incarnation, who then disliked the observance of the 
 primitive rule. 
 
REL. HI.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 395 
 
 more than once ; while he was often in sufferings.'? Thou 
 seest how My whole life was full of dolors, and only on 
 Mount Tabor hast thou heard of Me in glory.'^ 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 consolation what- 
 ever. 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 weap 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 com- 
 forted 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 suffering. He 
 also told me to keep in mind the words He said to His 
 Apostles : " The servant is not greater than his Lord." '9 
 
 ■7 2 Cor. xi. 27 : " In labore et serumna, in vigiliis multis." 
 
 »^ St. Matt. xvii. 2 : " Et transfiguratus est ante eos." 
 '5 St. John xiii. 16: " Non est servus major domino suo." 
 
3g6 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. iv. 
 
 RELATION IV. 
 
 OF THE GRACES THE SAINT RECEIVED IN SALAMANCA AT 
 THE END OF LENT I57I. 
 
 I. I FOUND myself the whole of yesterday in great deso- 
 lation, and, except at Communion, did not feel that it was 
 the day of the Resurrection. Last night, being with the 
 community, I heard one' 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 remained 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 be 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.' You, my father, will teU 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 fell into a profound trance; and it 
 seemed to me that our Lord had taken me up in spirit to 
 
 ' Isabel of Jesus, bom 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. 
 
 ' See Fortress of the Soul, vi. ch. xi. 
 
REL. IV.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 397 
 
 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 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 remained 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 bestowed 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 
 beholdest Me present. My daughter, — it is L 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, 
 
 3 See Relation iii. § 16. 
 
398 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. iv. 
 
 after His Ascension, He never came down to the earth 
 except in the most Holy Sacrament to 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 how different was 
 my piercing. 4 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 
 
 * See above, § i. 
 
REL. V.J OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 399 
 
 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 because of my sickness ; and then, doing violence 
 to myself, I took up some bread to prepare for collation, 
 and on the instant 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 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. 
 
 I. "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 himself who relies on spiritual sweet- 
 nesses ; the true safety lies in the witness of a good 
 conscience.' 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 
 
 ■ 2 Cor. i. 12 : " Gloria nostra hsec est, testimonium conscientiae 
 nostrae." 
 
40O 
 
 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. v. 
 
 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,'' 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 tJiis, I was in a high degree 
 lifted up in spirit. Our Lord showed me what the spirit 
 was, and what the state of the so'ul was then, and the 
 meaning of those words of the Magnificat, " Exultavit 
 spiritus meus." 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 detachment 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. s 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 imperfections, 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 
 
 " See St. John of the Cross, Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch. v. 
 3 See Foundations, ch. v. § 2. 
 
REL. v.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 40I- 
 
 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 
 difiBcult 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.+ 
 
 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 after- 
 wards, I would not have any of any other material. I 
 learnt from our Lord, when I was not thinking at all about 
 this, what 1 am going to say : " that this mortification was 
 not right. Which is better, poverty or charity ? But as- 
 love was the better, whatever 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.5 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 St. Joseph, because,, 
 when I was utterly lost, God, through their prayers, came 
 and saved me. 
 
 6. One day, after the feast of St. Matthew,^ 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.? 
 I understood the mystery most clearly, in such a way that,, 
 after a certain fashion and comparisons, I saw It in an 
 
 « Eccl. ix. I : " Nescit homo utrum amore cin odio dignus sit." 
 s See St. John of the Cross, Mount Carmel, bk. iii. ch. xxxiv. 
 * The §§ 6, 7, and 8 are the thirteenth letter of the second volume^ 
 ed. Doblado. 
 
 ' See Relation iii. § 13. 
 AA 
 
402 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. v. 
 
 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 im- 
 possible, and so there is nobody who dares to think of it ; 
 for the understanding 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.^ 
 And afterwards I have been thinking that the Son alone 
 took 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 oifends 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 
 
 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. 
 
REL. v.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 403 
 
 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. 
 
 g. 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 everything, 
 in order that the work might be effected, and that His 
 greatness might be the more clearly revealed in one so 
 wicked. 
 
 10. Antiochus was unendurable to himself, and to those 
 who were about him, because of the stench of his many 
 sins .9 
 
 11. Confession is for faults and sins, and not for virtues, 
 nor for anything 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, 
 
 9 2 Maccab. ix. 10, 12 : " Eum nemo poterat propter intolerantiam 
 f ceteris portare, . nee ipse jam foetorem suum ferre posset." 
 
404 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. vi. 
 
 when he sees people throw themselves into the river, that 
 they will all be drowned." 
 
 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 four" elders spoken of in Scrip- 
 ture. 
 
 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.'* 
 
 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. 
 
 RELATION VL 
 
 the vow of obedience to father gratian which the 
 
 SAINT made in 1575. 
 
 I. 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.' 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 whoUy directed by him. One 
 day, when I was taking food, but without any interior 
 recollection whatever, my soul began to be recollected in 
 
 •0 Cassian, CoUat. vii. cap. iv. p. 311 : "Nee enim si quis ignarus 
 natandi, sciens pondus corporis sui ferre aquarum liquorem non posse, 
 experimento suae voluerit imperitiae definire, neminem penitus posse 
 liquidis elementis solida came circumdatum sustineri." 
 
 " Antonio de San Joseph says that the Saint meant to write four- 
 and-twenty, in allusion to Apoc. iv. 
 
 " Apoc. viii. 4. 
 
 ' See Foundations, ch. xxii. 
 
•REL. VI.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 405 
 
 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 wished this, 
 — the words were different, — I made up my mind at last 
 to act upon them, understanding 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 learning 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. 
 
 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, " posuit fines tuos pacem," ' 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 
 
 » Psalm cxlvii. 3 : "He hath made thy borders peace." 
 
4o6 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. vi. 
 
 me remained in the hermitage while I was by myself in 
 the sacristy belonging 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,3 and a great desire arose within me of 
 doing Him some most special service, and I foimd 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 perfection, 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 I was already bent on doing it ; 
 on the other hand, it would be a very serious thing, con- 
 sidering 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 for God, 
 I was not doing it ; it was a sad thing for my resolution to 
 serve Him. The fact is, that the objection so pressed me, 
 that I do not think I ever did anything 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.+ The reason 
 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 
 
 ' Perhaps the Saint refers to what she has written in her hife, 
 ch. xxxviii. §§ ii, 12. 
 * Life, ch. iv. § 1. 
 
REL. VI.J OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 407 
 
 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 anything, 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 
 reflection ; 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 ! 
 
4o8 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. vii. 
 
 RELATION VII. 
 
 MADE FOR RODRIGO ALVAREZ, S.J., IN THE YEAR I575> 
 ACCORDING TO DON VICENTE DE LA FUENTE ; BUT IN 
 1576, ACCORDING 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, without thinking at all of anything super- 
 natural, 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 mattered little if she had to suffer in 
 purgatory in exchange for the increase of His glory even 
 in the shghtest degree. 
 
 3. In this she spent about two-and-twenty years in 
 great aridities, and never did it enter into her thoughts 
 to desire anything 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 anything with her bodily eyes, nor 
 ieard anything with her bodily ears; twice, she thinks, 
 
REL. VII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 409 
 
 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 Hke 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. 
 
 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 ; ' 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 St. 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," as will be 
 shown hereafter: and she herself in tears and deep 
 affliction ; for the more they tried her, the more she fell 
 ' See Life, ch. xxiv. § 4. ' See/^ife, ch. xxv. § 18.^ 
 
4IO ST. Teresa's relations [rel. vii. 
 
 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 everything relating to the state of her soul she 
 was very much better, and a great difference was visible, 
 there was no vainglory, nor had she any temptation thereto, 
 nor to pride ; on the contrary, she was very much ashamed 
 and 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.'t 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 St. 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.s She contrived to have a conference 
 
 3 See hife, ch. xxv. g 20, and ch. xxvii. § i. 
 
 « See hife, ch. xxvi. § 5. 
 
 s 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 lUumi- 
 nati, who were alarmed at his faithful zeal and holy life (Pdlafox, 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 
 processes in prayer, such as ecstasies, raptures, and revelations, and do 
 not wish to be deluded or deceived by Satan, or to do anything 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 : ■ Sefiora, the business of the Inquisition is not to 
 try the spirit, nor to examine ways of prayer, but to correct heretics. 
 Do you, then, commit your experience to writing, in all simplicity 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, l.widano, cap. iii.). 
 
REL. VII. 1 OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 4II 
 
 with him for her greater security, and told him everything. 
 He replied, that there was nothing in all this that con- 
 cerned his office, because everything 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 anything, to the Master Avila, who was a man of 
 great learning in the way of prayer, and to rest content 
 with the answer he should give. She did so, and des- 
 cribed her sins and her life. He wrote to her and com- 
 forted 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 book^ 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, 
 because 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 St. Dominic, 
 to which, before these things took place, she had been to 
 confession, — she does not say to them, but to the Order.7 
 
 * This book is the Way of Perfection,, written by direction of F. 
 Banes. 
 
 ' The Saint had such great affection for the Order of St. 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 (Falafox, note to letter 16, vol. i. ed. Doblado). 
 
412 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. vii. 
 
 These are they with whom she afterwards had relations. 
 The Father Fra Vicente Barron, at that time Consuhor of 
 the Holy Ofi&ce, 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 Valladolid as rector of 
 the college of St. Gregory, I confessed for six years, and 
 whenever I had occasion to do so communicated with him 
 by letter ; also to the Master Chaves ; to the 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 everything while she remained there ; and 
 he saw what she had written,* 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 St. 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 ascertaining 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, 
 Dominican Provincial, a man of great spirituality ; with 
 another licentiate named Lunar, who was prior of St. 
 
 8 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 FuenU). 
 
REL. VII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 413 
 
 Thomas of Avila ; and, in Segovia, with a Reader, Fra 
 Diego de Yanqiies. 
 
 14. Of these Dominicans some never failed to give 
 themselves 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 care- 
 fully 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, 
 she would not need to seek for learned men nor tests, 
 because she would see at once that they carrle from Satan. 
 She never undertook anything 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 thAn everything. 
 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 eifects thereof, and of the 
 great graces which she at times received ; but she always 
 desired virtues more than anything 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 
 Valladolid, 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, 
 
414 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. vii. 
 
 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.9 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 per- 
 mission'" for this torture ; for if one spoke more harshly of 
 her than others, by little and little he spoke more kindly ol 
 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 purpose of trying her, these things were 
 treated with contempt, for she thought some were really 
 from God, and she would ilot have people, even if they had 
 good cause, condemn them so absolutely ; neither would 
 she have them believe that all were from God ; and because 
 she knew perfectly well that delusion was possible, there- 
 fore 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 oflFend 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 super- 
 natural 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 under- 
 went, 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 
 
 ' See Foundations, ch. xvii. § 12, note. '" Life, ch. xxiii. § 15. 
 
REL. VII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 415 
 
 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 diminished 
 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." As it 
 has been said already," she never saw anything 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 restlessness 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, •"* " 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 men, with many words, had not been 
 able — to give her that peace and rest which this one 
 word had given Jier. 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 ordinary state is constant pain, with many 
 other infirmities, though since she became a nun they are 
 more troublesome, if she is doing anything 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 
 
 " Life, ch. xxvi. § 6. " § 4. 
 
 '3 Life, ch. XXV. § 19. '" Life, ch. xxv. § 22. 
 
4i6 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. vii. 
 
 her sins ; these are always a torment to her, most com- 
 monly 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 
 vainglory. There ' never was anything 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 visitations 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 con- 
 fessors 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 herself 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 anything 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 exceedingly. 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 know something, it is of this kind : she sees 
 nothing either outwardly or inwardly, for the vision is not 
 imaginary : but, without seeing anything, 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 
 
REL. VIII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 417 
 
 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 occasionally what he means.'s 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 VIIL 
 
 ADDRESSED TO F. RODRIGO ALVAREZ. 
 
 I. These interior things of the spirit are so difficult to 
 describe, and, still more, in such a way as to be under- 
 stood, — ^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, for it may well be that 
 I do not understand the matter; but what I can assure 
 
 '3 See Life, ch. xxvii. § 5. 
 BB 
 
4i8 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. viii. 
 
 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 
 meditations, 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 pre- 
 paration must be of great service, — is a certain interior 
 recollection ' 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 accordingly it drags 
 them away with itself ; for it closes the eyes on purpose 
 that it may neither see, nor hear, nor understand anything 
 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 anything ; 
 for even speaking wearies it, — I mean by this, vocal prayer 
 and 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 
 
 ' Iitifr Fortress, iv. ch. iii. 
 
REL. VIII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 4I9 
 
 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, anything else ; and at the same time the two other 
 faculties are at liberty to attend to other matters of the 
 service of God, — in a word, Martha and Mary are together.^ 
 I asked Father Francis3 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 will 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 iri 
 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 
 
 = See Life, ch. xvii. § 5. ' Compare Lije, ch. xxiv. § 4. 
 
420 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. viii. 
 
 less of this. When it is deep, as I was saying, the hands 
 become cold, and sometimes stiif and straight as pieces of 
 wood ; as to the body, if the rapture comes on when it is 
 standing or kneeling, it remains so ; * 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 rapture lasts, the nerves are made to feel it. 
 
 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 forget- 
 fulness 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 transports js 
 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 admitting 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, 
 
 * See Life, ch. xx. § 23. 
 " Arrobamiento y arrebatamiento." 
 
REL. VIII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 42I 
 
 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 
 astonishment that it ever dared to offend a Majesty so 
 ■ great, with an exceedingly earnest desire that none may 
 henceforth offend 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. 
 
 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 I made use of it 
 before, as you know, my father, in that writing where these 
 and other ways of prayer are explained at length,^ 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 compare 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 nqw, 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 anythii^g of the kind, when it occurs. 
 It was afterwards that fear arose, because she who 
 
 * See Life, chs. xx. and xxi. 
 
422 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. viii. 
 
 received this grace was so wicked; for she saw what 
 good reasons she had to be afraid of everything, 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 this is most frequently the case ; it is a sudden remem- 
 bering that the soul is away from God, or of a word it has 
 heard to that effect. This remembering is occasionally so 
 strong and vehement 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, except that the sufi"ering 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 suffering, and 
 that our Lord will have its whole being find no comfort in 
 anything, nor remember that it is His will that it should 
 live : the soul seems to itself to be in great and indescri- 
 bable 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 know- 
 ledge 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.7 
 
 14. But nothing of all this is felt till the impetus 
 ^ Life, ch. xx. § 16 ; Inner Fortress, vi. c. xi. 
 
REL. VIII.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 423 
 
 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 
 blessing in the soul. Some learned men say that it is 
 this, others that it is that, but no one condemns 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. 
 
 16. Another prayer very common is a certain kind of 
 wounding ; ^ 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 physical ; it is in the interior of the soul, without 
 any appearance of bodily pain ; but as I cannot explain it 
 except by comparing it with other pains, I make use of 
 these clumsy expressions, — for such they are when applied 
 to this suffering. I cannot, however, explain it in any 
 other way. It is, therefore, neither to be written of nor 
 spoken of, because it is impossible for any one to under- 
 stand 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 purgatory suffer more 
 
 " See Life, ch. xxix. § 16. 
 
424 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. viii. 
 
 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 com- 
 prehends the great evil that has befallen us through the 
 sin of Adam in robbing us of this liberty .9 
 
 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 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 certainty about it, though the eyes of the soul see 
 nothing ; and when the Presence is withdrawn, that with- 
 drawal is felt. How it is, I know not ; but I do know very 
 well that it is not an imagination, because I cannot re- 
 produce 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 
 
 » See Life, ch. xvii. § 9. 
 
REL. Vni.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 425 
 
 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, because 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.'° 
 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 anything to me, that is 
 what I have never done. In that case, I should imme- 
 diately 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.^' What I have learnt, 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 
 
 '° See Relation iii. § 6. 
 " See St. John of the Cross, Ascent 0/ Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch. xxii. 
 
426 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. ix. 
 
 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 compassion on me ! 
 
 RELATION IX. 
 
 OF CERTAIN SPIRITUAL GRACES SHE RECEIVED IN TOLEDO 
 AND AVILA IN THE YEARS 1576 AND 1577- 
 
 I. I HAD begun to go to confession to a certain person' 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 
 thinking 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.^ 
 I was distressed 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." 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 ; 
 
 ' F. Yepes, then prior of St. 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. 
 
REL. IX.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 427 
 
 he has understood me, and given me great rehef ; 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 
 thinking 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 everything, as I 
 was on the cross. Tell him to trust in Me." These last 
 words were said because 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, " Et exultavit spiritus mens," 
 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; 
 nevertheless, they will never see it done, but very much 
 the reverse." 
 
 7. Once, in deep recollection, I was praying to God for 
 EHseus ; 3 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. 
 
 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 
 
 3 Fra Jerome Gratian (De la Fuente). 
 
428 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. ix. 
 
 in an3H:hing, as I was bound to do, and then considering 
 the many graces He had wrought in my soul, I began to 
 be exceedingly weary ; and our Lord said to me : " Thou 
 knowest of the betrothal 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,* now it was in a way 
 so diflferent that it seemed as if I had become possessed 
 of a great principality ; for the affection with which He 
 wrought this grace cannot be described. 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.5 
 
 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 henceforward 
 strong ; for I had to serve Him more than I had hitherto 
 done.^ 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 illus- 
 tration of a sponge filled with water was suggested to me. 
 
 11. When my brothers came, — and I owe so much to 
 one of them,7 — I remained in conversation with him con- 
 cerning his soul and his affairs, which wearied and dis- 
 tressed me ; and as I was offering this up to our Lord, 
 and thinking that I did it all because I was under obli- 
 
 ■» I St. Peter iv. 13 : " Communicantes Christ! passionibus, gaudete.'' 
 
 s This took place in 1575, when she was going to found her monas- 
 tery in Seville {Ribera, iv. 10). 
 
 ^ See § 3, above. 
 
 ' 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). 
 
REL. IX.J OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 429 
 
 gations to him, I remembered that by our Constitutions ^ 
 we are commanded to separate ourselves from our kindred, 
 and I was set thinking 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 anything to do with them. 
 
 12. After Communion, on St. Augustin'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 without thinking of the Three ; so 
 that to-day, when I was considering 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 hindrances 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 in- 
 comparably 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 Com- 
 munion, it seemed to me that my soul was really one with 
 
 » In the chapter " De la Clausura," § 3 : " De tratar con deudos se 
 desvien lo mas que pudieren." 
 
430 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. ix. 
 
 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 
 reform a certain monastery ; 9 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 St. Peter said : " Thou art Christ, the Son of the 
 living God; "'° 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 in-dwelling of the Trinity in 
 our souls by presence, 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."" I 
 also learnt something of the reason why God delights in 
 souls more than in any other creatures: it is so subtile 
 
 » The monastery of Paterna, of the unreformed Carmelites. This 
 was in 1576 {De la Fitente). 
 
 "> St. Matt. xvi. 16 : " Tu es Christus, Filius Dei vivi." 
 " Gen. i. 26 : " Ad imaginem et similitudinem Nostram." 
 
REL. IX.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 43I 
 
 .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," that I had no rest, and after 
 Communion one day was making most earnestly my 
 petition to our Lord that, as He had givpn him to me, I 
 might not lose him. He said to me : " Have no fear.'' 
 
 ig. 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 is 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 St. Paul 
 said." '3 
 
 20. Once, after Communion, I saw how His Father 
 within our soul accepts the most Holy Body of Christ. 
 I have understood 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 
 
 " 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 Fuente; see, also, Relation vi. § i). 
 
 '3 Galat. ii. 20: "Vivo autem, jam non ego: vivit vero in me 
 Christus." 
 
432 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. ix. 
 
 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 inflowings 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 iUumines 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. 
 
 21. During the Octave of All Saints, ■♦ I had two or 
 three days of exceeding anguish, the result of my 
 remembrance 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 anything for God failed me: 
 though I sought to encourage myself, and made corres- 
 ponding 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 father '5 had written that St. Paul said that God 
 does not suffer us to be tempted beyond our power to 
 bear.'^ 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 he 
 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 St. Paul, with which I began to 
 
 ■'' A.D. 1577 (De la Fuente). 
 '5 Jerome Gratian (id.). 
 
 '' I Cor. X. 13: "Fidelis autem Deus est, qui non patietur vos 
 tentari supra id quod potestis." 
 
REL. IX.J OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 433 
 
 be comforted; 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 my fears left me ; and while 
 at Matins that very night our Lord Himself, in an intel- 
 lectual 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. '? 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 
 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 anything of my 
 father ; ^^ and, moreover, he was not well the last time he 
 wrote to me. However, my distress was not so great as 
 that I felt before, for 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 
 proceeding from our Lord that render 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 
 
 ■' 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 
 SeSora de las Angustias." 
 
 '* Fra Jerome Gratian. 
 CC 
 
434 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. ix, 
 
 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 finger. I write this 
 to my own confusion, 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 
 St. Joseph, who can do much. This folly I write . . . folly 
 I write. . . . 
 
 26. On the eve of St. 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 distractions. I heard this : " Thou art 
 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 recollected, 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 those 
 words of the Canticle : '9 " Veniat dilectus mens in hortum 
 suum." I saw my Eliseus" 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 
 
 ■9 Cant v; I. 
 
 ™ 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). 
 
REL. IX.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 435 
 
 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 ; " 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 delight. 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.'^^ 
 
 27. The day after the presentation of the Brief,^3 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 ; everything 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 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.^* 
 
 =" See the last section. 
 
 °^ 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. 
 
 =3 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. 
 
 =* See § 26. 
 
436 ST. Teresa's relations [rel. x. 
 
 RELATION X. 
 
 OF A REVELATION TO THE SAINT AT AVILA, I579, AND OF 
 CERTAIN DIRECTIONS CONCERNING THE GOVERNMENT OF 
 THE ORDER. 
 
 In St. 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,' 
 more or less, my spirit was vehemently stirred and grew 
 hot within me,* 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 observed 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. 
 
 • See Life, ch. xxxviii. | 11. 
 ' Psalm xxxix. 3 : " Concaluit cor meum intra me." 
 
REL. XI.] OF HER SPIRITUAL STATE. 437 
 
 RELATION XI. 
 
 WRITTEN FROM PALENCIA IN MAY I581, AND ADDRESSED TO 
 DON ALONZO VELASQUEZ, BISHOP OF OSMA, WHO HAD 
 BEEN, WHEN CANON OF TOLEDO, ONE OF THE SAINT'S 
 
 confessors.' 
 
 Jesus. 
 I. Oh, that I could clearly explain to your Lordship the 
 peace and quiet my soul has found ! for it has so great 
 a certainty of the fruition of God, that it seems to be as if 
 already in possession,' 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 
 lias 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. Everything is directed to 
 
 ' 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 333rd, 336th in the second edition, 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. 
 
 = See Inner Fortress, vii. ch. ii. 
 
438 ST. TRRHSA's relations [rEL. XI. 
 
 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 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 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 intel- 
 lectual 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.s 
 
 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 
 
 3 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. 439 
 
 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 martyrdom, and of the vision of 
 God, have no strength in them, and, most frequently, I 
 cannot make them. I seem to live only for eating and 
 drinking, and avoiding pain in everything ; 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 grow- 
 ing, 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 tormented 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 anybody at all, only to satisfy 
 myself that I am going the right road now, and whether I 
 can do anything. 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 
 
440 ST. Teresa's relations. [rel. xi. 
 
 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 ! ♦ 
 
 8. I am at peace within ; and my likings and dislikings 
 have so little power to take from me the Presence of the 
 Three Persons, of which, while it- continues, it is so im- 
 possible to doubt, that I seem clearly to know by experience 
 what is recorded by St.John, that God will make his dwell- 
 ing in the soul : 5 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. Sometimes 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 efficacious, that I 
 desire neither life nor death, except for some moments, 
 when I long to see God ; 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. 
 
 * 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. 
 
 5 St.John xiv. 23 : " Mansionem apud eum faciemus. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Abecedario, Tercer, iv. 8. 
 
 Agony in raptures, xx. 15. 
 
 Ahumada, de, Antonio, iv. i. 
 
 Ahumada, de. Dona Beatriz, 
 mother of St. Teresa, death of, 
 i. 7 ; seen in heaven by the 
 Saint, xxxviii. 1. 
 
 Ahumada, de, Juana, sister of the 
 Saint, xxxiii. 13. 
 
 Alcala, monastery founded in, 
 xxxvi. 29, note. 
 
 Alcantara. See St. Peter of Al- 
 cantara. 
 
 Almsgiving of the Saint, i. 6, Rel. 
 ii. 3. 
 
 Alvarez, F.Baltasar, xxiv. 6, xxxv. 
 10; mortifies the Saint, xxvi. 4 ; 
 humility of, xxviii. 20 ; promise 
 of, to protect the Saint, xxviii. 
 21 ; always consoled the Saint, 
 xxix. 5 ; hesitates about the new 
 foundation, xxxii. 16 ; com- 
 mands the Saint to abandon it, 
 xxxiii. 4; orders her to proceed, 
 xxxiii. 13. 
 
 Alvarez, F. Rodrigo, Rel. viii. 
 
 Amendment of life, the work of 
 prayer, viii. 6 — 11. 
 
 Amusements, vii. 1, Rel. i. 14. 
 
 Angels and evil spirits, vision of, 
 xxxi. II. 
 
 Angel, the Saint's vision of the, 
 xxix. 16. 
 
 Answers to the Saint's prayers, 
 xxxix. I — 7. 
 
 Antony, St., of Padua, xxii. 10. 
 
 Aranda, de, Don Gonzalo, xxxvi. 
 18. 
 
 Aridity, how it comes on in the 
 second state of prayer, xv. 15. 
 
 Art, the, of serving God, xii. 2. 
 
 CC* 
 
 Ascent of the Mount, xxiii. 13. 
 Assumption, the, vision of, xxxix. 
 
 37- 
 Attachments,evil effects of worldly , 
 
 xi. 5. xxiii. 5. 
 Augustin, St., Ccmfessions of, ix. 
 
 8 ; effect of reading them on 
 
 the Saint, ix. g ; saying of, xiii. 
 
 4- 
 Avila, birthplace of St. Teresa, 
 
 troubled by the new foundation, 
 
 xxxvi. 14. 
 Avila, Juan of, Rel. vii. 9. 
 
 Bases, Fr. Dom., xxxvi. 15 ; 
 transmits the Saint's writings 
 to the Inquisition, Rel. vii. 16. 
 
 Barrientos. See Martin. 
 
 Barron, Fra Vicente, confessor of 
 the Saint's father, vii. 26; hears 
 the confession of the Saint, vii. 
 27, xix. 19. 
 
 Beauty of our Lord, xxviii. 2, 
 xxix. 2, xxxvii. 5; unimaginable, 
 xxviii. 7. 
 
 Beginners, must toil, xi. 13 ; and 
 persevere, xi. 16; not to be 
 afraid of the cross, xi. 25 ; must 
 be content, xii. 2 ; certain temp- 
 tations of, vii. 16, xiii. 9 ; must 
 begin humbly, xv. 19. 
 
 Bernard, St., xxii. 10. 
 
 Betrothal, spiritual, of the Saint, 
 Rel. ix. 8, 25. 
 
 Bird, the soul likened to a, xviii. 
 13, xix. 22. 
 
 Bishopric, a, the Saint consulted 
 about the acceptance of, xi. 21. 
 
 Blessed, the, joys of, x. 3. 
 
 Blindness healed through the 
 prayer of the Saint, xxxix. 1. 
 
442 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 3ody, the, shares the joy of the 
 soul in certain states of prayer, 
 xvii. 14, xviii. 15; state of, in 
 raptures, xx. 2, 4, 23 ; our Lord 
 seen by the Saint always in His 
 glorified, xxix. 4. 
 
 Book, a living, xxvi. 6. 
 
 Books insufficient without a di- 
 rector, xxii. 3. 
 
 Borja, de, St. Francis. See Fran- 
 cis. 
 
 Brief, the, sanctioning the observ- 
 ances of St. Joseph's, xxxiv. 2, 
 xxxvi. I, xxxix. 20. 
 
 Brizeiio, Doiia Maria, ii. 12; in- 
 fluences the Saint, iii. i. 
 
 £ulls, the Sabbatine, xxxviii. 40. 
 
 •Cardona, de, Doiia Catalina, Rel. 
 iii. 12. 
 
 Carmel, the Order of, vision con- 
 cerning, Rel. iii. 14 ; advice to, 
 Rel. X. 
 
 ■Caterpillar of self-respect, xxxi. 
 24. 
 
 Catherine, St., of Siena, xxii. 10. 
 
 •Censoriousness of the world, xxxi. 
 19- 
 
 Cepeda, de, Alfonso Sanchez, 
 father of the Saint, fond of 
 spiritual books, i. i ; gives his 
 daughter Maria in marriage, i. 
 4, 8 ; places the Saint at school 
 in a monastery, i. 8 ; would not 
 consent to her becoming a nun, 
 ii. 9 : takes her to Bezadas to 
 be cured, v. 5,6: brings her to 
 his house in Avila, v. 15 ; hin- 
 ders her from making her con- 
 fession in an illness, v. 17 ; 
 ptersuaded by the Saint to prac- 
 tise mental prayer, vii. 16; 
 makes progress therein, vii. 20 ; 
 holy death of, vii. 20; seen in 
 heaven by the Saint, xxxviii. i, 
 
 ■Cepeda, de, Don Lorenzo, finds 
 money for the new monastery 
 of St. Joseph, xxxiii. 13. 
 
 Cepeda, de, Maria, sister of the 
 Saint, ii. 4; sudden death of, 
 xxxiv. 23; seen in heaven by 
 the Saint, xxxiv. 24. 
 
 Cerda, de la, Dofia Luisa, xxxiv. 
 I ; attracted by the Saint, xxxiv. 
 4 ; visited by St. Peter of Al- 
 cantara, XXXV. 6 ; tries to amuse 
 the Saint by showing her dia- 
 
 monds, xxxviii. 5 ; the Saint's 
 watchfulness over herself in the 
 house of, xxxix. 11. 
 
 Cheerfulness, importance of, xii. 
 I. 
 
 Cherubim, xxix. 16. 
 
 Choice of a director, xiii. 28, 29. 
 
 Church, the, ceremonies of, xxxi. 
 4 ; the Saint's reverence for, 
 xxxiii. 6. 
 
 Clare, St., encourages the Saint, 
 xxxiii. 15. 
 
 Comforts, worldly, the Saint's fear 
 of, xxxiv. 4. 
 
 Communion, effects of the Saint's, 
 xvi. 3 — 10, xviii. 10 — 18, xxx. 16, 
 xxxvii. 24, Rel. iv. 5, Rel. ix. 
 13 ; the Saint's longing for, 
 xxxix. 31 ; graces of, Rel. ix. 20. 
 
 Complaint, loving, of the Saint, 
 xxxvii. 13. 
 
 Confession, frequent, of the Saint, 
 v. 17 ; matter of, Rel. v. 11. 
 
 Confessors, the Saint's difficulty 
 in finding, iv. 8, 13 ; harm done 
 by ill-instructed, v. 6, 20, vi. 6 ; 
 one of them misleads the Saint, 
 viii. 15; unskilful, xx. 28; wrong 
 counsel of, xxvi. 5 ; of the Saint 
 harsh with her, xxx. 15 ; obe- 
 dience of the Saint to her, xxiii. 
 19, xxxiii. 4, 5, Rel. i. 9; the 
 Saint rebuked for her affection 
 to her, xxxvii. 6 ; names of the 
 Saint's, Rel. vii. 5, 11, 12, 13. 
 
 Consecration, power of the words 
 of, xxxvii. 30. 
 
 Consolations, xi. 21 ; not to be 
 sought for, xxii. 15. 
 
 Contemplation, xxii. i ; why 
 granted to imperfect souls, xxii. 
 22, 23. 
 
 Contempt, Satan shuns, xxxi. 10 ; 
 the Saint directed to treat her 
 visions with, xxix. 6. 
 
 Contradiction of good people, 
 xxviii. 24, xxx. 6. 
 
 Conversation, worldly, vii. 10 ; 
 danger of, ii. 6, vii. 12 ; delight 
 of our Lord in spiritueil, xxxiv. 
 20. 
 
 Conversion of a wicked priest, v. 
 12 ; of a sinner, xxxix. 5. 
 
 Courage of the Saint, viii. 10; 
 necessity of, x. 8 ; effects of, xiii. 
 3 ; necessary in the way of per- 
 fection, xxxi. 19. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 443 
 
 Covetousness, xxxiii. 14. 
 Cowardice, spiritual, xiii. 6. 
 Creator, the, traces of, in things 
 
 visible, ix. g. 
 Crosses, xi. 8 ; desired by souls in 
 
 the prayer of imperfect union, 
 
 xvi. g. 
 Cross, the, way of, xi. 8, xv. 17, 
 
 21 ; necessity of carrying, xxvii. 
 
 13- 
 
 Daza, Caspar, xxiii. 8; thought 
 the Saint was deluded by an 
 evil spirit, xxiii. 16; approved 
 of the new foundation, xxxii. 
 21. 
 
 Delusion, a, into which the Saint 
 fell, xxii. 3; the Saint always 
 prayed to be delivered, from 
 xxix. 6. 
 
 Delusions incidental to locutions, 
 
 XXV. 3, II. 
 
 Desires, good, xiii. 8, xxi. g, Rel. 
 xi. 5. 
 
 Desolation, spiritual, of the Saint, 
 XXX. 10. 
 
 Detachment, blessing of, xi. 2, 
 xxxiv. ig ; necessity of, for 
 prayer, xi. 16, xv. 17; of the 
 perfect, xv. 18 ; an effect of rap- 
 tures, xviii. 8, XX. 10 ; takes 
 away the fear of death, xxxvii. 
 7 ; the Saint's, from kindred, 
 xxxi. 22, Rel. ii. 5, Rel. ix. 11 ; 
 from directors, Rel. iv. 3. 
 
 Detraction, avoided by the Saint, 
 vi. 4. vii. 3 ; insensibility to, Rel. 
 ii. 4. 
 
 Detractors, the Saint prays for 
 her, xi. 11. 
 
 Devotion, sweetness in, never 
 asked for by the Saint, ix. 10 ; 
 but once, ix. 11 ; those who 
 seek it censured, xi. 21 ; the 
 Saint's, increased by difficulties, 
 xxviii. 10. 
 
 Die, either to, or suffer, xl. 27. 
 
 Direction, unskilful, viii. 15, 16; 
 importance of, xiii. 4 ; methods 
 of vnong, xiii. 25 ; not to be the 
 same for all, xxxviii. 16. 
 
 Directors ought to be experienced, 
 xiii. 21 ; and prudent, xiii. 24 ; 
 and learned, xiii. 26 ; choice of, 
 xiii. 28 ; charity of, xiii. 2g ; 
 should be secret, xxiii. 14 ; and 
 humble, xxxiv. 15 ; should be 
 
 trusted, xxxix. 35 ; necessary, 
 xl. 12; the Saint preferred those 
 who distrusted her, Rel. vii. 
 18. 
 
 Discouragements, xi. 15 ; must be 
 resisted, \ix. 6; certain causes 
 of, xxxi. 21. 
 
 Discretion, xi. 23, xiii. 2 ; excessive, 
 xiii. 8. 
 
 Distraction of the understanding 
 in the prayer of quiet, xv. 10, 
 XXX. ig ; in monasteries not 
 caused by poverty, xxxv. 3. 
 
 Distrust of self, viii. 18, ix. 3 ; ne- 
 cessity of, xix. 20. 
 
 "Domine, da mihi aquam," xxx. 
 24. 
 
 Dominicans, the, help St. Teresa, 
 V. 8. Rel. vii. 11 — 14. 
 
 Dominion, true, xl. 21. 
 
 Dove, vision of a, xxxviii. 13, 14. 
 
 EcijA, vow of the Saint in the 
 
 hermitage of, Rel. vi. 3. 
 Ecstasy, xx. i ; how wrought, xx. 
 
 2 ; fear during, xx. g ; first, of 
 
 the Saint, xxiv. 7. 
 Egypt, flesh-pots of, xv. 5. 
 Elevation of the spirit not to be 
 
 attempted in union, xviii. 8. 
 Eliseus. See Jerome, Fra, of the 
 
 Mother of God. 
 Enclosure, observance of, how 
 
 important, vii. 5. 
 Endowments not accepted by the 
 
 Saint for her monasteries, xxxv. 
 
 4, 5 ; offered for St. Joseph, 
 
 xxxvi. ig; and forbidden by a 
 
 Brief, xxxix. 20. 
 Envy, a holy, xxxix. ig. 
 Exorcisms, the Saint threatened 
 
 with, xxix. 4. 
 Experience, more valuable than 
 
 books, xiv. 10 ; a safeguard 
 
 against delusion, xiv. 11. 
 
 Faith, the, Satan was never able 
 
 to make the Saint doubt, xix. 
 
 13 ; blessed effects of, xxv. 16. 
 Falls turn to our good, xix. 8. 
 Fear, xv. 22 ; of God, xxvi. i. 
 Founders of religious Orders, 
 
 xxxii. 17. 
 Francis, St., xxii. 10. 
 Francis, St., de Borja visits the 
 
 Saint, xxiv. 4; consulted by her, 
 
 Rel. vii. 5. 
 
444 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Friendship, advantages of spiri- 
 tual, vii. 33 — 37, XXX. 6 ; with 
 God, XV. 8; the Saint's detach- 
 ment from, xxiv. 8. 
 
 Friendship, worldly, dangers of, ii. 
 4, V. 9; deceitfulness of, xxi. i. 
 
 Garden, the prayer in the, ix. 5; 
 the soul likened to a, xi. 10, xiv. 
 
 .'3- 
 
 Gifts of God, the, importance of 
 discerning, x. 4 ; demand our 
 gratitude, x. 7; supply strength, 
 X. 8; a grace to understand, 
 xvii. 7 ; the Saint erroneously 
 advised to conceal, xxvi. 5 ; 
 given according to His will, 
 xxxiv. 14, xxxix. 12 ; the Saint's 
 joy when others received, xxxiv. 
 20. 
 
 God, sense of the presence of, x. 
 I ; helps those who love Him, 
 xi. 19; never fails those who 
 trust Him, xiii. 15; munificence 
 of, xviii. 5; the Saint has a 
 vision of, xl. 13, 14 ; pain of 
 absence from, Rel. iv. 6. 
 
 Grace, prayer the door of, viii. 13 ; 
 comes after trials, xi. 18 ; the 
 Saint's distress because she 
 could not know whether she 
 was in a state of, xxxiv. 12; 
 vision of a soul in, Rel. iii. 13. 
 
 Guzman, de, y Barrientos, Don 
 Martin, sudden death of, xxxiv. 
 23- 
 
 Hardships of the religious life, 
 
 xiii. 30. 
 Health, anxiety about, vi. 3 — 8; 
 
 importance of, in the spiritual 
 
 life, xi. 24 ; to be made little of, 
 
 xiii. 9. 
 Heaven, Queen of, xix. 9 ; revealed 
 
 in raptures, xxxviii. 8. 
 Hell, a vision of, xxx. 14, xxxii. i ; 
 
 effects of, on the Saint, xxxii, 7 
 ■ — 10. 
 Heretics, self-condemned, vii. 8 ; 
 
 evil state of, xxxii. 9 ; resemble 
 
 a broken mirror, xl. 9. 
 Hilarion, St., the Saint commends 
 
 herself to, xxvii. i. 
 Honour, point of, xxi. 12. 
 Hugo, Fra, Cardinal of Santa Sa- 
 
 bina, xxxvi. 27. 
 
 Humanity, the Sacred, xii. 3, xxii. 
 I ; mistake of the Saint concern- 
 ing, xxii. 3 ; source of all grace, 
 xxii. 9 ; never to be lost sight of 
 in prayer, xxii. 11; the Saint 
 directed to fix her thoughts on, 
 xxiii. 18; the Saint renews her 
 love of, xxiv. 2 ; vision of, xxviii. 
 4, xxxviii. 22. 
 
 Humility, advantages of, vii. 37, 
 xii. II ; false kinds of, x. 4, xiii. 
 4 ; the foundation of the Chris- 
 tian life, xii. 5 ; worth more than 
 all the science in the world, xv. 
 13; grows most in the state of 
 perfect union, xix. 2 ; dangers of 
 false, xix. 15 — 23 ; acquired in 
 raptures, xx. 38 ; foundation of 
 prayer must be laid in, xxii. 16 ; 
 a false, the most crafty device of 
 Satan, xxx. 12 ; asking for con- 
 solations not consistent with, 
 xxxix. 21 — 23. 
 
 Hypocrisy, the Saint not tempted 
 to, vii. 2, Rel. i. 18. 
 
 IbaSez, Fra Pedro, x. 10, note, 
 xvi. 10 ; consulted by the Saint 
 about the new foundation, xxxii. 
 19 ; encourages the Saint to 
 persevere, xxxii. 20 ; confident 
 of success, xxxiii. 5; departs 
 from Avila, xxxiii. 7 ; advises 
 the Saint to accept an endow- 
 ment for the new foundation, 
 XXXV. 5 ; changes his opinion, 
 XXXV. 7 ; and helps the Saint, 
 xxxvi. 23 ; seen by the Saint in 
 a vision, xxxviii. 15, 16. 
 
 Illness of St. Teresa, iv. 6, v. 4 ; 
 extreme severity of, v. 14. 
 
 Image of our Lord not to be 
 mocked, xxix. 7. 
 
 Images, devotion of the Saint to, 
 vii. 3 ; effects of, on her, ix. i — 
 3 ; great blessing of, ix. 7. 
 
 Imagination of St. Teresa not ac- 
 tive, ix. 6; wearisome to her, 
 xvii. 9. 
 
 Imitation of the Saints, xiii. 5 — 8. 
 
 Imperfections, rooting up of, xiv. 
 
 14- 
 Impetuosities in prayer, xxix. 11 — 
 
 13, Rel. i. 3, Rel. viii. 13. 
 Impetuosities of divine love, xxix. 
 
 10, II, 13. xxxiii. 9; physical 
 
 effects of, xxix. 15. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 445 
 
 Incarnation, the monastery of the, 
 the Saint enters, iv. i ; the nuns 
 of, complain of the Saint, xix. 
 12; the Saint tempted to leave, 
 xxxi. i6; the rule not strictly 
 observed in, xxxii. 12 ; the 
 Saint's affection for, xxxii. 13, 
 xxxiii. 3 ; nuns of, object to the 
 ne-w foundation, xxxiii. 2 ; elec- 
 tion of prioress, xxxv. g ; the 
 Saint returns to, from Toledo, 
 xxxv. 10, xxxvi. I ; troubled 
 because of the new foundation, 
 xxxvi. II. 
 
 Indisposition, bodily, evil effects 
 of, on the spiritual life, xi. 23. 
 
 Ingratitude, delusion arising from 
 the dread of, xxiv. 6 ; the Saint 
 bewails her, xiv. 16. 
 
 Inquisition, the, threats of denounc- 
 ing the Saint to, xxxiii. 6. 
 
 Inspirations, good, not to be re- 
 sisted, iv. 3. 
 
 Intentions, good, no excuse for an 
 evil act, v. 12. 
 
 Jerome, Fra, of the Mother of God, 
 
 Rel. vi. I — 3, Rel. ix. 7, 21, 23, 
 
 26. 
 Jerome, St., xi. 17, xxxviii. 2 ; the 
 
 Saint reads the letters of, iii. 8. 
 Jesus, the Society of, helps the 
 
 Saint, v. 8 ; sought by her, 
 
 xxiii. 3, ig ; visions concerning, 
 
 xxxviii. 18 — 3g. 
 Job, patience of, v. 16; trial of, 
 
 xxx. 12. 
 John, St., of the Cross, Rel. iii. 
 
 19- 
 
 Joseph, St., great devotion of the 
 Saint to, vi. g, xxx. 8 ; the 
 teacher of prayer, v. 12 ; en- 
 courages the Saint, xxxiii. 14, 
 
 Joseph, St., the monastery of, pur- 
 chase of the site of, xxxii. 22 ; 
 not to be subject to the Order, 
 xxxiii. 18; paradise of God's 
 delight, xxxv. 13; foundation of, 
 xxxvi. 4 ; destruction of, threat- 
 ened by the council of the city, 
 xxxvi. 14 ; obtains the good will 
 of the people, xxxvi. 25 ; good- 
 ness of the nuns of, xxxix. 14. 
 
 Joys, of prayer, x. 3 ; of visions, 
 xxvii. 13 ; of the saved, xxvii. 
 15- 
 
 Judas, temptation of, xix. 15. 
 Judgment, day of, xl. 16. 
 
 Kindred, detachment from, xxxi. 
 
 22, Rel. ix. II. 
 Kings, obligations of, xxi. 2, 4 ; 
 
 wherein lies the power of, xxxvii. 
 
 8. 
 
 Labourer, story of a, xxxviii. 26. 
 Laxity in religious houses, vii. 6 — 
 
 9- 
 Learning, accompanied with hu- 
 mility, a help to prayer, xii. 6 ; 
 
 useful in directors, xiii. 24 — 26 ; 
 
 the Saint wishes for, xiv. g ; 
 
 not necessary in prayer, xv. 12. 
 Lie, a, Satan is, xxv. 26 ; the 
 
 Saint's hatred of, xxviii. 6. 
 Life, the, of the Saint, under 
 
 what circumstances written, x. 
 
 II. 
 Life, weariness of, xxi. 8 ; the 
 
 illuminative, xxii. i. 
 Light of visions, xxviii. 7, xxxviii. 
 
 3- 
 
 Locutions, divine, xix. 14, xxv. 2 ; 
 delusions incidental to, xxv. 3, 
 11; efficacy of, xxv, 5, 12; hu- 
 man, xxv. 8; Satanic, xxv. 13; 
 tests of the Satanic, xxv. 17 ; 
 nature of, xxvi. 3 ; state of the 
 understanding during,- xxvii. 10; 
 effects of the divine, xxxviii. ig 
 — 21. 
 
 Locutions heard by the Saint, xviii. 
 18, xix. 13, xxiv. 7, xxv. 22, xxvi. 
 
 3, 6, xxix. 7, xxx. 17, xxxi. 15, 
 xxxii. 17, xxxiii. 10, xxxiii. 14, 
 xxxv. 7, g, xxxvi. 20, xxxviii. 
 
 4, ig, 21, xxxix. 2g, 34, xl. i, 21, 
 24, Rel. iii. i, passim, Rel. iv. 4, 
 
 5, 6, Rel. ix. 1, passim. 
 
 Lord, our, accounted mad, xxvii. 
 
 Love, joyous, in seeing a picture 
 of Christ, ix. 7 ; servants of, xi. 
 i; wherein it consists, xi. 20; 
 vehement in perfect souls, xv. 6 ; 
 effects of divine, xxii. 21 ; makes 
 itself known without words, 
 xxvii. 12 ; impetuosities of, xxix 
 10, II ; fire of, xxx. 25. 
 
 Loyalty, worldly, v. g. 
 
 Ludolf of Saxony, xxxviii. 11 
 
 Lukewarmness, vii. i. 
 
446 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Lutherans, xxxii. g, Rel. ii. 14 ; 
 destroyers of images, Rel. v. 5. 
 
 Madness, spiritual, xvi. i — 8, 
 
 xxvii. 15. 
 Magdalene, the, ix. 2. xxi. 9 ; her 
 
 example to be followed, xxii. 
 
 19- 
 Mancio, F., Rel. ii. 18. 
 Mantles of the religious folded by 
 
 the Saint, xxxi, 27. 
 Maria of Jesus, xxxv. i ; founds a 
 
 house in Alcala de Henares, 
 
 xxxvi. 29. 
 Martin, Don, Guzman y Barri- 
 
 entos, marries a sister of the 
 
 Saint, ii. 4,.iii. 4 ; sudden death 
 
 of, xxxiv. 23. 
 Martyrdom desired by the Saint, 
 
 i. 4. 
 Martyrs, the, sufferings of, xvi. 6. 
 Mary and Martha, xvii. 6, xxii. 
 
 13- 
 
 Meditation, advantage of, iv. 11 ; 
 fruits of, xi. 20 ; example of a, 
 xiii. 19 ; the perfect may have 
 to return to, xv. 20. 
 
 Memory, the, in the prayer of im- 
 perfect union, xvii. 5, 9; trouble- 
 some, but not hurtful, xvii. 11. 
 
 Mendoza, de, Don Alvaro, Bishop 
 of Avila, xxxiii. 19; protects 
 the new monastery of St.Joseph, 
 xxxvi. 18. 
 
 Men, great, difficult of access, 
 xxxvii. 7. 
 
 Mercies of God, the remembrance 
 of, XV. 23. 
 
 Michael, St., the Saint commends 
 herself to, xxvii. 2. 
 
 Misdirection, a, corrected by the 
 Saint, xiii. 22. 
 
 Mitigation, the Bull of, xxxii. 12 ; 
 
 ^ disused in the new monastery, 
 xxxvi. 27, 28. 
 
 Monasteries, courts in politbness, 
 xxxvii. 17. 
 
 Munificence of God, xviii. 5, xxii. 
 26. 
 
 Neatness, excessive, ii. 2, Rel. i. 
 
 23- 
 
 Novices in St.Joseph's, xxxix. 15. 
 
 Novitiate of the Saint, v. i. 
 
 Nun, illness of a, in the monastery 
 of the Incarnation, v. 3 ; visions 
 concerning a, xxxviii. 37, 38. 
 
 Obedience, the Saint writes un- 
 der, xviii. 10 ; strict observance 
 of, in the Society of Jesus, 
 xxxiii. 9 ; of the Saint to her 
 coiifessors, xxiii. 19, Rel. i. 9 — 
 29, Rel. vii. 14. 
 
 Objects, natural, moved the 
 Saint to devotion, ix. 6. 
 
 Ocampo, de, Mary, xxxii. 13, 
 note. 
 
 OflSce, the divine, the Saint's im- 
 perfect knowledge of, xxxi. 26. 
 
 Order, vision concerning a certain, 
 xl. i8, 19. 
 
 Osorno, Countess of, Rel. iii. 16.. 
 
 Ovalle,-de, Don Juan, xxxv. 14. 
 note ; providential illness of. 
 
 Padranos, de, Juan, xxiii. 18 ; 
 directs the Samt, xxi v. i ; re- 
 moved from Avila, xxiv. 5. 
 
 Pain of raptures, xx. 11 ; sweet- 
 ness of, XX. 19. 
 
 Paradise of His delight, xxxv. 13. 
 
 " Passer solitarius," xx. 13. 
 
 Passion, the, devotion of the Saint 
 to, ix. 5 : meditation on, xiii. 19, 
 20, xxii. 8. 
 
 Patience of a nun, v. 3 ; of the 
 Saint, V. 16 ; of God, viii. 8. 
 
 Penance, necessity of, xxvii. 14 ; 
 of the Saint, xxiv. 2, Rel. i. 5, 
 Rel. ii. II, Rel. xi. 2. 
 
 Perfection, xxi. 10 ; true safety 
 lies in, xxxv. 15; not always 
 attained to because of many 
 years spent in prayer, xxxix. 
 21. 
 
 Persecution, of the Saint, xix. 12 
 xxxvi. 13; blessings of, xxxiii. 
 
 5- 
 
 Perseverance in prayer, viii. 5 ; 
 fruits of, xi. 6 ; reward of, cer- 
 tain, xi. 17 ; the Saint prays 
 for, xiv. 17; and recommends, 
 xix. 7. 
 
 Peter, St., of Alcantara, xxvii. 4 ; 
 penitential life of, xxvii. 17^19, 
 XXX. 2; power of, with God, 
 xxvii. 22 ; understands and 
 comforts the Saint, xxx. 5, 7, 
 Rel. vii. 6 ; quiets a scruple of 
 the Saint, xxx. 20 ; approves of 
 the new foundation, xxxii. 16; 
 and of the observance of poverty 
 
INDEX. 
 
 447 
 
 in it, XXXV. 6 ; in Avila when 
 the Saint came back from 
 Toledo, xxxvi. i ; death of, 
 xxxvi. I, note; appears to the 
 Saint, xxxvi. 20, 21 ; said that 
 ■women make greater progress 
 than men, xl. 12. 
 
 Phoenix, the, xxxix. 33. 
 
 Pilgrims, xxxviii. 8. 
 
 Pillar, the, meditations on Christ 
 at, xiii. 19, 31. 
 
 Politeness,, monasteries courts in, 
 xxxvii. 17. 
 
 Poverty, effects of defective, xi. 3 ; 
 of spirit, xxii. 17 ; the Saint's 
 love of, XXXV. 3, Reh i. 10, Rel. 
 ii. 2. 
 
 Prayer, mental, viii, 7 ; blessings 
 of, viii. 12 ; joys of, x. 3 ; the 
 Saint's four states of, xi. 12 ; 
 fruit of mental, xi. 20 ; vocal, 
 xii. 3 ; doctrine of, difficult, xiii. 
 18; importance of persevering 
 in, XV. 5 ; must have its founda- 
 tions in humility, xxii. 16 ; of 
 the Saint continued in sleep, 
 xxix. 9 ; effects of intercessory, 
 xxxi. 9 ; two kinds of, xxxix. 8 — 
 10 : the Saint's method of, Rel. 
 i. I. 
 
 Preachers, xvi. 12. 
 
 Presence of God, the, xviii. 20; 
 practice of the, xii. 4; effects 
 of, in the prayer of quiet, xiv. 
 8 ; different from vision, xxvii. 
 6. 
 
 Priest, conversion of an evil-living, 
 V. 13, xxxi. 7 ; vision concerning 
 a, xxxvii. 29. 
 
 Progress made in the way of rap- 
 tures, xxi. II. 
 
 Prophecies made to the Saint, 
 xxxiv. 22 ; fulfilled, Rel. ii. 6, 
 
 17- 
 
 Provincial, the, of the Carmelites 
 offers to accept the new founda- 
 tion, xxxii. 16; then declines it, 
 xxxii. 18 ; sends the Saint to 
 Toledo, xxxiv. 2 ; recalls her, 
 xxxv. 8 ; reprimands the Saint, 
 xxxvi. 13 ; allows the Saint to 
 live in the new monastery, 
 xxxvi. 23. 
 
 Purgatory, the Saint saw certain 
 souls who were not sent to, 
 xxxviii, 41 ; and delivers others 
 from, xxxix. 6. 
 
 Queen of heaven, the, devotion 
 to, xix. 9. 
 
 Quiet, the prayer of, iv. 9, ix. 6 ; 
 disturbed by the memory and 
 the understanding, xiv. 5 ; joy 
 of the soul in, xiv. 7 ; few souls 
 pass beyond, xv. 3, 7 ; great 
 fruits of, XV. 6 ; how the soul is 
 to order itself in, xv. g ; differ- 
 ence between the true and false, 
 XV. 15. 
 
 Rank, slavery of, xxxiv. 6. 
 
 Rapture, xx. i ; irresistible, xx. 3, 
 xxii. 20; effects of, xx. g^ 30; 
 pain oi, xx. 11; loneliness of 
 the soul in, xx. 13 ; character- 
 istics of, XX. 23 ; duration of, 
 XX. 25 ; physical effects of, xx. 
 
 29, Rel. i. 26, iv. I ; made the 
 Saint long for heaven, xxxviii. 
 8 ; good effects of, Rel. i. 8, 15. 
 
 Reading, spiritual, i. 1, iv. 12, 13; 
 persevered in by the Saint, viii. 
 14 ; long unprofitable to her, 
 xii. 10; impossible in the prayer 
 of perfect union, xviii. 14 ; a de- 
 light, Rel. i. 7. 
 
 Recollection, prayer of, xiv. 2, 
 Rel. viii. 3. 
 
 Recreation, xiii. i. 
 
 Reflections, making, when danger- 
 ous in prayer, xv. 11. 
 
 Reform,' the Carmelite, beginning 
 of, xxxii. 13. 
 
 Religious must despise the world, 
 xxvii. 16. 
 
 Resignation of the Saint, xxi. 7, 
 Rel. i. 20. 
 
 Revelations, the Saint never spoke 
 of her, when she consulted her 
 confessors, xxxii. 19. 
 
 Rosary, the, of the Saint, xxix. 8. 
 
 Rule, the Carmelite, mitigation of, 
 xxxii. 12 ; restored by the Saint, 
 xxxvi. 28 ; observance of, xxxvi. 
 
 30. 31- 
 
 Salasar, de, Angel. See Provin- 
 cial. 
 
 Salazar, de, Caspar, Rector of the 
 Society of Jesus in Avila, xxxiii. 
 9 ; understands the state of the 
 Saint, xxxiii. 11 ; bids the Saint 
 go to Toledo, xxxiv. 2 ; vision of 
 the Saint concerning, xxxviii. 
 17- 
 
448 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Salcedo, de, Don Francisco, xxiii. 
 6 ; gives spiritual advice to the 
 Saint, xxiii. ii ; fears delusions, 
 xxiii. 12 ; helps the Saint in her 
 new foundation, xxxii. 21, xxxvi. 
 21 ; hospitable, xxxvi. i ; gives 
 ComiBunion to the Saint when 
 a priest, Rel. iii. 7. 
 
 Samaria, the woman of, xxx. 24. 
 
 Satan, subtlety of, iv. 14 ; an arti- 
 fice of, vii. 17, 35 ; suggests a 
 false humility, xiii. 5 ; and a 
 carefulness for health, xiii. 10 ; 
 afraid of learned directors who 
 are humble, xiii. 26 ; efforts of, 
 to deceive, how thwarted, xv. 16 ; 
 -tempted the Saint to give up 
 prayer, xix. 8 ; a lie, xxv. 26 ; 
 unable to counterfeit intellectual 
 visions, xxvii. 4 — 8 ; tries to 
 counterfeit imaginary visions, 
 xxviii. 15 ; appears to the Saint, 
 xxxi. 2 ; dislikes contempt, xxxi. 
 10 ; wiles of, Rel. i. 29. 
 
 Scandal, xxvii. 16. 
 
 Scorn, signs of, not to be made 
 during visions, xxix. 6. 
 
 Self, contempt of, necessary in the 
 spiritual life, xxxi. 23. 
 
 Self-denial, necessity of, xxxi. 25. 
 
 Self-knowledge, xiii. 23. 
 
 Self-love, xi. 2 ; strong and hurt- 
 ful, xi. 4, 5. 
 
 Self-respect, harm of, xxi. 12. 
 
 Senses, the, suspension of, in the 
 prayer of perfect union, xviii. 19. 
 
 Sensitiveness, xi. 4. 
 
 Sermons, viii. 17 ; without sim- 
 plicity, xvi. 12. 
 
 Shame, good fruits of, v, g. 
 
 Sicknesses of the Saint, xxx. 8. 
 
 Sickness sent for penance, xxi v. 2. 
 
 Sight restored at the prayer of 
 the Saint, xxxviii. i. 
 
 Sincerity of the Saint, Rel. i. 28. 
 
 Sin, occasions of, viii. 14 ; pain 
 occasioned by the sins of others, 
 xiii. 14; original, xxx. 20; the 
 Sainf, by her prayers, hinders a 
 great, xxxix. 3 ; wickedness of, 
 xl. 15 ; vision of a soul in, Rel. 
 iii. 13. 
 
 Sins, the Saint consents to the 
 divulging of her, x. 10. 
 
 Solitude, longings for, i. 6, vi. 5, 
 Rel, i. 6. 
 
 Sorcery, v. 10. 
 
 Soto, de, the Inquisitor, Rel. vii. 8. 
 
 Soul, our own, the first object, 
 xiii. 13, 14 ; likened to a garden, 
 xi. 10, xiv. 13 ; in the prayer of 
 quiet, XV. i ; growth of, xv. 20 ; 
 powers of, in the prayer of im- 
 perfect union, xvi. i , 4 ; beside 
 itself, xvi. I — 5 ; crucifixion of, 
 in raptures, xx. 14 ; detachment 
 of the enraptured, xx. 33; 
 strengthened in raptures, xxi. 
 14 ; effects of visions in, xxvii. 
 II ; helplessness of, without 
 God, xxxvii. II ; vision of a lost 
 soul, xxxviii. 31 ; the Saint's 
 vision of her own, xl. 8 ; and of, 
 in a state of grace, Rel. iii. 13, 
 Rel. v. 6. 
 
 Spirit, liberty of, xi. 25 ; poverty 
 of, xxii. 17 ; flight of the, xviii. 
 8, Rel. viii. 11. 
 
 Spirits, evil, put to flight, xxv. 25; 
 by holy water, xxxi. 4. 
 
 Spirituality influenced by bodily 
 health, xi. 24. 
 
 Suarez, Juana, iii. 2 ; accompanies 
 the Saint to Bezadas, iv. 6. 
 
 Sufferings, physical, of the Saint, 
 iv. 7, V. 4, 14, vi. I ; of raptures, 
 XX. 16; the Saint longs for, xl. 
 27. 
 
 Sweetness, spiritual, never sought 
 by the Saint but once, ix. 11 ; 
 seekers of, censured, xi. 21 ; of 
 the pain of raptures, xx. 19 ; 
 the Saint unable to resist it at 
 times, xxiv. i. 
 
 Tears, gift of, iv. 8, xxix. 11 ; of 
 the Saint before a picture of the 
 Passion, ix. i ; in the prayer of 
 quiet, -xiv. 5 ; in the prayer of 
 perfect union, xix. i, 2 ; the 
 Saint prays God to accept her, 
 xix. 10. 
 
 Temptation, power of, xxx. 13. 
 
 Tenderness of soul, x. 2. 
 
 Teresa, St., desires martyrdom, 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 grievously, vi. i ; 
 afraid of prayer, vi. 5; leads 
 
INDEX. 
 
 449 
 
 her father to prayer, vii. i6; 
 present at her father's death, 
 vii. 22; perseveres in prayer, 
 viii. 2 ; found it hard to pray, 
 viii. 10; delights in sermons, 
 viii. 17 ; devout to the Magda- 
 lene, ix. 2 ; never doubted of 
 God's mercy, ix. 8 ; depreciates 
 herself, x. 9; willing to have 
 her sins divulged, x. 10 ; al- 
 ways sought for light, x. 13; 
 complains of her memory, xi. g ; 
 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 unworthiness, xviii. 6 ; 
 writes under obedience, xviii. 
 10 ; confesses ignorance, xviii. 
 20 ; abandons her prayers for a 
 time, xix. 8; evil spoken of, xix. 
 12; misledby 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 ; un- 
 able 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. 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 visions, xxvii. 4, 
 xxviii. 6; her defence when told 
 that her visions were false, 
 xxviii. 18, 19; afraid nobody 
 would hear her confession, 
 xxviii. 20; harshly 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 supernatural wound, 
 
 xxix. 17 ; manifests her spiritual 
 state to St. Peter of Alcantara, 
 XXX. 4 ; bodily trials of, xxx. 17 ; 
 finds no relief in exterior occu- 
 pations, xxx. 18; buffeted by 
 Satan, xxxi. 3 ; converts a great 
 sinner, xxxi. 7 ; troubled because 
 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 abandon her 
 purpose, xxxiii. i ; her vision in 
 the Dominican church, Avila, 
 xxxiii. 16 ; goes to Toledo, xxxiv. 
 3 ; the nuns wish to have her as 
 their Prioress, xxxv. 8 ; restores, 
 a child to life, xxxv. 14, note ; 
 begins the Reform, xxxvi. 4 ; 
 her grievous trial, xxxvi. 6, 7 ; 
 her health improved, xxxvi. 9 ; 
 would suffer all things for one 
 additional degree of glory, 
 xxx vii. 3 ; her affection for her 
 confessors, xxxvii. 6 ; superna- 
 turally helped when writing, 
 xxxvii. 28 ; obtains sight for a 
 blind person, xxxix. i ; and the 
 cure of one of her kindred, 
 xxxix. 2 ; her spiritual state be- 
 came known without her con- 
 sent, xl. 28; submits all her 
 writings to the Roman Church, 
 Rel. vii. 14, 
 
 Theology, mystical, x. i, xi. 7, xii. 
 8 ; the Saint says she does not 
 know the terms of, xviii. 4. 
 
 Thomas, St., assisted at the death- 
 bed of Fra P. IbaHez, xxxviii. 15. 
 
 Throne, vision of a, xxxix. 31, 32. 
 
 Trance, a, xviii. 17, xx. i ; outward 
 effects of, xl. 11 ; gradual, Rel. 
 viii. 10. 
 
 Transport, Rel. viii. 10. 
 
 Trials followed by graces, xi. 18 ; 
 promised to the Saint, xxxv. 9 ; 
 shown her in a vision, xxxix. 25.. 
 
 Trinity, the, mystery of, revealed- 
 to the Saint, xxxix. 36 ; visions: 
 of, Rel. iii. 6, Rel. v. 7, 8, Rel. 
 viii. 20, Rel. ix. 12. 
 
 Truth; divine, xl. 3—8. 
 
 Ulloa, de. Dona Guiomar, xxiv.5 ; 
 takes the Saint to her house, 
 xxx. 3 ; helps the Saint to ac- 
 
450 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 complish the reform, xxxii. 13; 
 is refused absolution, xxxii. 18. 
 
 Understanding, the, use of in 
 prayer, xiii. 17 ; disorderly, xv. 
 10 ; powerless in the state of 
 imperfect union, xvi. 4 ; and of 
 the perfect union, xviii. 19 ; the 
 Saint speaks humljly of her, 
 xxviii. 10. 
 , Union, imperfect, prayer of, xvi. 
 I ; a mystical death, ib. ; the soul 
 resigned therein, xvii. i ; how it 
 differs from the prayer of quiet, 
 xvii. 5, 6; another degree of, 
 xvii. 7 ; the labour of the soul 
 lessens in the later states of, 
 xviii. I. 
 
 Union, perfect, prayer of, xviii. i ; 
 the senses wholly absorbed in, 
 xviii. 3, 14 ; duration of, xviii. 
 16 ; fruits of, xix. 4. 
 
 Union, prayer of, iv. 9 ; followed 
 by visions in the Saint, xxv. 14. 
 
 Union; what it is, Rel. v. 2 ; of the 
 faculties of the souTTRel. viii. 7. 
 
 Vainglory, vii. 2, 34, x. 5, Rel. i. 
 18, Rel. ii. 15, Rel. vii. 23. 
 
 Vanity of possessions, xx. 35 ; the 
 Saint's watchfulness over herself 
 herein, xxxix. 11. 
 
 Virtue, growth of, in the prayer of 
 quiet, xiv. 6 ; and in that of im- 
 perfect union, xvii. 4. 
 
 Visions, bur Lord seen in, vii. 11, 
 xxv. 14, xxvii. 3, xxviii. 2; in- 
 
 tellectual, xxvii. 4 ; different 
 from the sense of the presence 
 of God, xxvii. 6 ; joy of, xxvii. 
 13; imaginary, xxviii. 5; effects 
 of, in the soul, xxviii. 13; Satan 
 tried to simulate, xxviii. 14 ; 
 effects of, in the Saint, xxviii. 
 19 ; cessation of the Saint's im- 
 aginary, xxix. 2 ; of the Sacred 
 Humanity, effects of, xxxviii. 23. 
 
 Water, holy, puts evil spirits to 
 flight, xxxi. 4, 5, 9, 10. 
 
 Water, the first, xi, 13 ; the se- 
 cond, xiv. I ; the third, xvi. i ; 
 the fourth, xviii. i. 
 
 Will, the state of, in the prayer of 
 quiet, xiv. 4, xv. 2, 10 ; in the 
 prayer of imperfect union, xviii. 
 16. 
 
 Women, great care necessary in 
 the direction of, xxiii. 14, 15 ; 
 make greater progress than men, 
 xl. 12. 
 
 World, the, contempt of, x. 7, 
 xxvii. 16 ; customs of, weari- 
 some, xxxvii. 15, 16 ; hard on 
 good people, xxxi. 19 ; vanity 
 of, Rel. i. 21. 
 
 Wound of the soul, Rel. viii. 15 ; 
 of love, Rel. viii. 17. 
 
 Yepes, Rel. ix. i. 
 
 Zeal, indiscreet, xiii. 8.