Life of St Teresa of Jesus - Teresa of Avila (classic books for 11 year olds TXT) 📗

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 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 had made a mistake.

6. 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 Cañada, to the house of her sister, Doña 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 (De la Fuente).

8. Ch. v. § 15.

9. Ch. iii. § 4.

10. Ch. iii. § 5.

11. By Fray Francisco de Osuna, of the Order of St. Francis

(Reforma, lib. i. ch. xi. § 2).

12. See ch. ix. §§ 4, 7.

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. All religious observances had an attraction for me, but I

could not endure any which seemed to make me contemptible.

I delighted in being thought well of by others, and was very

exact in everything 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 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 [1]—I was in my sister’s house, for the purpose

of undergoing the medical treatment—they took me away with the

utmost care of my comfort; that is, my father, my sister, and the

nun, my friend, who had come from the monastery with me,—for her

love for me was very great. At that moment, Satan began to

trouble my soul; God, however, brought forth a great blessing out

of that trouble.

6. In the place to which I had gone for my cure lived a priest of

good birth and understanding, with some learning, but not much.

I went to confession to him, for I was always fond of learned

men, although confessors indifferently learned did my soul much

harm; for I did not always find confessors whose learning was as

good as I could wish it was. I know by experience that it is

better, if the confessors are good men and of holy lives, that

they should have no learning at all, than a little; for such

confessors never trust themselves without consulting those who

are learned—nor would I trust them myself: and a really learned

confessor never deceived me. [2] 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 may avoid an evil so

great; for I see clearly that in the eyes of God I was without

excuse, that the things I did being in themselves not good, this

should have been enough to keep me from them. I believe that

God, by reason of my sins, allowed those confessors to deceive

themselves and to deceive me. I myself deceived many others by

saying to them what had been said to me.

8. I continued in this blindness, I believe, more than seventeen

years, till a most learned Dominican Father [4] undeceived me in

part, and those of the Company of Jesus made me altogether so

afraid, by insisting on the erroneousness of these principles, as

I shall hereafter show. [5]

9. I began, then, by going to confession to that priest of whom I

spoke before. [6] He took an extreme liking to me, because I had

then but little to confess in comparison with what I had

afterwards; and I had never much to say since I became a nun.

There was no harm in the liking he had for me, but it ceased to

be good, because it was in excess. He clearly understood that I

was determined on no account 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 enchantments, I

do not believe it to be altogether true; but I will relate what I

saw, by way of warning to men to be on their guard against women

who will do things of this kind. And let them be assured of

this, that women—for they are more bound to purity than men—if

once they have lost all shame before God, are in nothing whatever

to be trusted; and that in exchange for the gratification of

their 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 anyone 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 light He had given

him; and at the end of the year from the day I first saw him,

he died.

13. He had been most diligent in the service of God; and as for

that great affection he had for