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

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 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

will not die to the world voluntarily, that very world will

kill it.

19. Certainly, I see nothing in the world that seems to me good

except this, that it tolerates no faults in good people, and

helps them to perfection by dint of complaints against them.

I mean, that it requires greater courage in one not yet perfect

to walk in the way of perfection than to undergo an instant

martyrdom; for perfection is not attained to at once, unless our

Lord grant that grace by a special privilege: yet the world, when

it sees any one beginning to travel on that road, insists on his

becoming perfect at once, and a thousand leagues off detects in

him a fault, which after all may be a virtue. He who finds fault

is doing the very same thing,—but, in his own case,

viciously,—and he pronounces it to be so wrong in the other.

He who aims at perfection, then, must neither eat nor

sleep,—nor, as they say, even breathe; and the more men respect

such a one, the more do they forget that he is still in the body;

and, though they may consider him perfect, he is living on the

earth, subject to its miseries, however much he may tread them

under his feet. And so, as I have just said, great courage is

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

wholly overcome, men will have it that they must be under

restraint, even upon trying occasions, as those of the Saints

are, of whom they read, after they are confirmed in grace.

20. All this is a reason for praising God, and also for great

sorrow of heart, because very many go backwards who, poor souls,

know not how to help themselves; and I too, I believe, would have

gone back also, if our Lord had not so mercifully on His part

done 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 themselves in

this matter; they would fly before God gives them wings.

21. I believe I have made this comparison on another

occasion, [6] 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 supernatural good, contrary to our

natural inclinations. Let them not distress themselves; let them

trust in our Lord: what they now desire, His Majesty will enable

them to attain to by prayer, and by doing what they can

themselves; for it is very necessary for our weak nature that we

should have great confidence, that we should not be fainthearted,

nor suppose that, if we do our best, we shall fail to obtain the

victory at last. And as my experience here is large, I will say,

by way of caution to you, my father, do not think—though it may

seem so—that a virtue is acquired when we have not tested it by

its opposing vice: we must always be suspicious of ourselves, and

never negligent while we live; for much evil clings to us if, as

I said before, [7] 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

conditions—she being married. I was therefore as much alone as

I could; yet I felt that her troubles gave me more trouble than

did those of my 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 embarrassment

behind his back, for it is a chain which no file can sever; only

the help of God, obtained by prayer and much striving on his

part, can do it. It seems to me to be a hindrance on the road,

and I am astonished at the harm it does. I see some persons so

holy in their works, and they are so great as to fill people with

wonder. O my God, why is their soul still on the earth? Why has

it not arrived at the summit of perfection? What does it mean?

What keeps him back who does so much for God? Oh, there it

is and the worst of it is, that these persons

will not admit that they have it, merely because Satan now and

then convinces them that they are under an obligation to

observe it.

24. Well, then, let them believe me: for the love of our Lord,

let them give heed to the little ant, who speaks because it is

His pleasure. If they take not this caterpillar away, though it

does not hurt the whole tree, because some virtues remain, the

worm will eat into every one of them. Not only is the tree not

beautiful, but it also never thrives, neither does it suffer the

others near it to thrive; for the fruit of good example which it

bears is not sound, and endures but a short time. I say it again

and again, let our self-respect be ever so slight, it will have

the same 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 when I began—or, at least, of some of

them: the straws which I said [8] 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