Describes how the Lord
began to awaken her soul in childhood to a love of virtue and what a help it is
in this respect to have good parents.
If I had not been so wicked it
would have been a help to me that I had parents who were virtuous and feared
God, and also that the Lord granted me His favour to make me good. My father [1]
was fond of reading good books and had some in Spanish so that his children
might read them too. These books, together with the care which my mother took to
make us say our prayers and to lead us to be devoted to Our Lady and to certain
saints, began to awaken good desires in me when I was, I suppose, about six or
seven years old. It was a help to me that I never saw my parents inclined to
anything but virtue. They themselves had many virtues. My father was a man of
great charity towards the poor, who was good to the sick and also to his
servants -- so much so that he could never be brought to keep slaves, because of
his compassion for them. On one occasion, when he had a slave of a brother of
his in the house, [2]
he was as good to her as to his own children. He used to say that it caused him
intolerable distress that she was not free. He was strictly truthful: nobody
ever heard him swear or speak evil. He was a man of the most rigid chastity.
My mother, too, was a very
virtuous woman, who endured a life of great infirmity: she was also particularly
chaste. Though extremely beautiful, she was never known to give any reason for
supposing that she made the slightest account of her beauty; and, though she
died at thirty-three, her dress was already that of a person advanced in years.
She was a very tranquil woman, of great intelligence. Throughout her life she
endured great trials and her death was most Christian.[3]
We were three sisters and nine brothers: all of them, by the goodness of God, resembled their parents in virtue, except myself, though I was my father's favourite. And, before I began to offend God, I think there was some reason for this, for it grieves me whenever I remember what good inclinations the Lord had given me and how little I profited by them. My brothers and sisters never hindered me from serving God in any way.
I had one brother almost of my
own age.[4]
It was he whom I most loved, though I had a great affection for them all, as had
they for me. We used to read the lives of saints together; and, when I read of
the martyrdoms suffered by saintly women for God's sake, I used to think they
had purchased the fruition of God very cheaply; and I had a keen desire to die
as they had done, not out of any love for God of which I was conscious, but in
order to attain as quickly as possible to the fruition of the great blessings
which, as I read, were laid up in Heaven. I used to discuss with this brother of
mine how we could become martyrs. We agreed to go off to the country of the
Moors, begging our bread for the love of God, so that they might behead us
there; and, even at so tender an age, I believe the Lord had given us sufficient
courage for this, if we could have found a way to do it; but our greatest
hindrance seemed to be that we had a father and a mother.[5]
It used to cause us great astonishment when we were told that both pain and
glory would last for ever. We would spend long periods talking about this and we
liked to repeat again and again, "For ever -- ever -- ever!" Through
our frequent repetition of these words, it pleased the Lord that in my earliest
years I should receive a lasting impression of the way of truth.
When I saw that it was impossible
for me to go to any place where they would put me to death for God's sake, we
decided to become hermits, and we used to build hermitages, as well as we could,
in an orchard which we had at home. We would make heaps of small stones, but
they at once fell down again, so we found no way of accomplishing our desires.
But even now it gives me a feeling of devotion to remember how early God granted
me what I lost by my own fault.
I gave alms as I could, which was but little. I tried to be
alone when I said my prayers, and there were many such, in particular the
rosary, to which my mother had a great devotion, and this made us devoted to
them too. Whenever I played with other little girls, I used to love building
convents and pretending that we were nuns; and I think I wanted to be a nun,
though not so much as the other things I have described.
I remember that, when my mother died, I was twelve years of
age or a little less.[6]
When I began to realize what I had lost, I went in my distress to an image of
Our Lady[7]
and with many tears besought her to be a mother to me. Though I did this in my
simplicity, I believe it was of some avail to me; for whenever I have commended
myself to this Sovereign Virgin I have been conscious of her aid; and eventually
she has brought me back to herself. It grieves me now when I observe and reflect
how I did not keep sincerely to the good desires which I had begun.
O my Lord, since it seems Thou art determined on my
salvation -- and may it please Thy Majesty to save me! -- and on granting me all
the graces Thou hast bestowed on me already, why has it not seemed well to Thee,
not for my advantage but for Thy honour, that this habitation wherein Thou hast
had continually to dwell should not have become so greatly defiled? It grieves
me, Lord, even to say this, since I know that the fault has been mine alone, for
I believe there is nothing more Thou couldst have done, even from this early
age, to make me wholly Thine. Nor, if I should feel inclined to complain of my
parents, could I do so, for I saw nothing in them but every kind of good and
anxiety for my welfare. But as I ceased to be a child and began to become aware
of the natural graces which the Lord had given me, and which were said to be
many, instead of giving Him thanks for them, as I should, I started to make use
of them to offend Him. This I shall now explain.
Describes how these
virtues were gradually lost and how important it is in childhood to associate
with people of virtue.
What I shall now describe was, I think something which
began to do me great harm. I sometimes reflect how wrong it is of parents not to
contrive that their children shall always, and in every way, see things which
are good. My mother, as I have said, was very good herself, but, when I came to
the age of reason, I copied her goodness very little, in fact hardly at all, and
evil things did me a great deal of harm. She was fond of books of chivalry; and
this pastime had not the ill effects on her that is had on me, because she never
allowed them to interfere with her work. But we were always trying to make time
to read them; and she permitted this, perhaps in order to stop herself from
thinking of the great trials she suffered, and to keep her children occupied so
that in other respects they should not go astray. This annoyed my father so much
that we had to be careful lest he should see us reading these books. For myself,
I began to make a habit of it, and this little fault which I saw in my mother
began to cool my good desires and lead me to other kinds of wrongdoing. I
thought there was nothing wrong in my wasting many hours, by day and by night,
in this useless occupation, even though I had to hide it from my father. So
excessively was I absorbed in it that I believe, unless I had a new book, I was
never happy.
I began to deck myself out and to try to attract others by
my appearance, taking great trouble with my hands and hair, using perfumes and
all the vanities I could get -- and there were a good many of them, for I was
very fastidious. There was nothing wrong with my intentions, for I should never
have wanted anyone to offend God because of me. This great and excessive
fastidiousness about personal appearance, together with other practices which I
thought were in no way sinful, lasted for many years: I see now how wrong they
must have been. I had some cousins, who were the only people allowed to enter my
father's house:[8]
he was very careful about this and I wish to God that he had been careful about
my cousins too. For I now see the danger of intercourse, at an age when the
virtues should be beginning to grow, with persons who, though ignorant of
worldly vanity, arouse a desire for the world in others. These cousins were
almost exactly of my own age or a little older than I. We always went about
together; they were very fond of me; and I would keep our conversation on things
that amused them and listen to the stories they told about their childish
escapades and crazes, which were anything but edifying. What was worse, my soul
began to incline to the thing that was the cause of all its trouble.
If I had to advise parents, I should tell them to take
great care about the people with whom their children associate at such an age.
Much harm may result from bad company and we are inclined by nature to follow
what is worse rather than what is better. This was the case with me: I had a
sister much older than myself,[9]
from whom, though she was very good and chaste, I learned nothing, whereas from
a relative whom we often had in the house I learned every kind of evil. This
person was so frivolous in her conversation that my mother had tried very hard
to prevent her from coming to the house, realizing what harm she might do me,
but there were so many reasons for her coming that she was powerless. I became
very fond of meeting this woman. I talked and gossiped with her frequently; she
joined me in all my favourite pastimes; and she also introduced me to other
pastimes and talked to me about all her conversations and vanities. Until I knew
her (this was when I was about fourteen or perhaps more: by knowing her I mean
becoming friendly with her and receiving her confidences) I do not think I had
ever forsaken God by committing any mortal sin, or lost my fear of God, though I
was much more concerned about my honour.[10]
This last fear was strong enough to prevent me from forfeiting my honour
altogether, and I cannot think that I would have acted differently about this
for anything in the world; nor was there anyone in the world whom I loved enough
to forfeit my honour for. So I might have had the strength not to sin against
the honour of God, as my natural inclination led me not to go astray in anything
which I thought concerned worldly honour, and I did not realize that I was
forfeiting my honour in many other ways.
I went to great extremes in my vain anxiety about this, though I took not the slightest trouble about what I must do to live a truly honourable life. All that I was seriously concerned about was that I should not be lost altogether. My father and sister were very sorry about this friendship of mine and often reproved me for it. But, as they could not prevent my friend from coming to the house, their efforts were of no avail, for when it came to doing anything wrong I was very clever. I am sometimes astonished at the harm which can be caused by bad company; if I had not experienced it I could not believe it. This is especially so when one is young, for it is then that the evil done is greatest. I wish parents would be warned by me and consider this very carefully. The result of my intercourse with this woman was to change me so much that I lost nearly all my soul's natural inclination to virtue, and was greatly influenced by her, and by another person who indulged in the same kinds of pastime.
Begins to describe
the favours which the Lord granted her in prayer. Explains what part we
ourselves can play here, and how important it is that we should understand the
favours which the Lord is granting us. Asks those to whom she is sending this
that the remainder of what she writes may be kept secret, since she has been
commanded to describe in great detail the favours granted her by the Lord.
I used sometimes, as I have said, to experience in an elementary form, and very fleetingly, what I shall now describe. When picturing Christ in the way I have mentioned, and sometimes even when reading, I used unexpectedly to experience a consciousness of the presence of God, of such a kind that I could not possibly doubt that He was within me or that I was wholly engulfed in Him. This was in no sense a vision: I believe it is called mystical theology. The soul is suspended in such a way that it seems to be completely outside itself. The will loves; the memory, I think, is almost lost; while the understanding, I believe, though it is not lost, does not reason -- I mean that it does not work, but is amazed at the extent of all it can understand; for God wills it to realize that it understands nothing of what His Majesty represents to it.
Footnotes
[1] St. Teresa's father, Don Alonso
Sanchez de Cepeda, was twice married. By his first wife he had three children;
by his second, Do–a Beatriz Davila y Ahumada, nine. Of these nine, Rodrigo and
Teresa were respectively the second and the third, white Lorenzo, father of the
Teresa who copied the Life (p. 62) was the fourth. Both parents were well
descended and the family was in comfortable circumstances, though not wealthy.
[2] At this time well-to-do families in
[3] Doña Beatriz had married at
fourteen, having been born in 1495, and died in 1528.
[4] The reference is almost certainly to
Rodrigo, who was four years her senior. He emigrated to
[5] Ribera (Bk. I, Chap. IV) describes
the attempt as having actually been made. The children left Avila and "went
on over the bridge, until they were met by an uncle who took them back home to
their mother, greatly to her relief, for she had been having them searched for
everywhere with great anxiety".
[6] Actually, as we have seen, she was
thirteen. Doña Beatriz made her will, shortly before her death, on
[7] Tradition has it that the image was
one which is now in Avila Cathedral, and that Teresa and Rodrigo also commended
themselves to this Virgin before setting out to be martyred. Yearly, on October
15, a ceremony commemorating the event described in the text takes place in
[8] Don Alonso's brother, Don Francisco,
had a house near his own, in the Plazuela de Santo Domingo, where the
seventeenth-century Discalced Carmelite monastery now stands. The cousins
referred to were no doubt Don Francisco's children: he had at least four sons,
as well as several daughters.
[9] This was her half-sister, Doña María,
her father's only daughter by his first wife.
[10] [The word honra, which St. Teresa uses in various senses -- good, bad and
neutral -- I often render "reputation" or "good name", but
in this context -- i.e., of a girl of St. Teresa's age, living in the Spain of
her day -- the translation "honour" does not seem too strong: indeed,
the contrast which she makes between the two kinds of honra almost necessitates it.]
CHAPTER
XXXI
Treats of certain
outward temptations and representations made to her by the devil and of tortures
which he caused her. Discusses likewise several matters which are extremely
useful for people to know if they are walking on the road to perfection.
Having described certain secret and inward disturbances and
temptations inflicted upon me by the devil I shall now speak of others which he
brought upon me almost in public and in which it was impossible not to detect
his hand.
Once, when I was in an oratory, he appeared on my left hand
in an abominable form; as he spoke to me, I paid particular attention to his
mouth, which was horrible. Out of his body there seemed to be coming a great
flame, which was intensely bright and cast no shadow. He told me in a horrible
way that I had indeed escaped out of his hands but he would get hold of me
still. I was very much afraid and made the sign of the Cross as well as I could,
whereupon he disappeared, but immediately returned again. This happened twice
running and I did not know what to do. But there was some holy water there, so I
flung some in the direction of the apparition, and it never came back. On
another occasion the devil was with me for five hours, torturing me with such
terrible pains and both inward and outward disquiet that I do not believe I
could have endured them any longer. The sisters who were with me were frightened
to death and had no more idea of what to do for me than I had of how to help
myself.
When the pains and the bodily suffering are quite
intolerable, my custom is to make interior acts as well as I can, and to beseech
the Lord, if it be His Majesty's good pleasure, to give me patience -- if only I
have that I can keep on suffering in this way until the very end of the world.
So, when on this occasion I found myself suffering so severely, I took to these
acts and resolutions, using them as means which would enable me to bear the
pain. The Lord evidently meant me to realize that this was the work of the
devil, for I saw beside me a most hideous little negro, snarling as if in
despair at having lost what he was trying to gain. When I saw him, I laughed and
was not afraid. Some of the sisters who were with me were helpless and had no
idea how to relieve such torture; for the devil had made me pound the air[9]
with my body, head and arms and I had been powerless to resist him. But the
worst thing had been the interior disquiet: I could find no way of regaining my
tranquillity. I was afraid to ask for holy water, lest I should frighten my
companions and they should discover what was wrong.
From long experience I have learned that there is nothing
like holy water to put devils to flight and prevent them from coming back again.
They also flee from the Cross, but return; so holy water must have great virtue.
For my own part, whenever I take it, my soul feels a particular and most notable
consolation. In fact, it is quite usual for me to be conscious of a refreshment
which I cannot possibly describe, resembling an inward joy which comforts my
whole soul. This is not fancy, or something which has happened to me only once:
it has happened again and again and I have observed it most attentively. It is,
let us say, as if someone very hot and thirsty were to drink from a jug of cold
water: he would feel the refreshment throughout his body. I often reflect on the
great importance of everything ordained by the Church and it makes me very happy
to find that those words of the Church are so powerful that they impart their
power to the water and make it so very different from water which has not been
blessed.
Well, as my tortures did not cease, I said: "If you
wouldn't laugh at me, I should ask for some holy water." So they brought me
some and sprinkled me with it but it did me no good. Then I sprinkled some in
the direction of the place where the little negro was standing and immediately
he disappeared and all my troubles went, just as if someone had lifted them from
me with his hand, except that I was as tired as if I had been dealt a great many
blows. It edified me greatly to find that, when the Lord gives him permission,
the devil can do so much harm to a soul and a body which are not his. For what,
then, I thought, will he not do when he has them in his possession? And I felt a
renewed desire to be freed from such pernicious companionship.
On another occasion, quite recently, the same thing
happened to me, though it did not last so long and I was alone. I asked for holy
water, and, after the devils had gone away, the next persons to come in (two
nuns who may safely be believed, for they would not tell a lie for anything)
noticed a very bad smell, like brimstone. I could not detect it myself but it
had remained there long enough for them to have noticed it. On another occasion
I was in choir when I felt a vehement impulse towards recollection. I went out,
so that the sisters should not observe it, but all who were near me heard sounds
where I was, like the noise of heavy blows, and I myself heard voices near me as
though people were discussing something. I could not hear what they were saying,
however: so deeply immersed was I in prayer that I heard nothing at all and I
was not in the least afraid. This happened nearly always at times when the Lord
was granting me the favour of allowing some soul, through my agency, to be
making progress. What I am now going to describe is something which actually
happened to me; and there are many people who will bear witness to this, in
particular my present confessor,[10]
who saw a written account of the occurrence in a letter. I did not tell him who
the author of the letter was, but he knew quite well.
A person came to me who for two and a half years had been
living in mortal sin -- one of the most abominable sins that I had ever heard of
-- and during the whole of that time he neither confessed it nor amended his
life, and yet went on saying
It was the Lord's good pleasure that the devils should
leave him; this I learned from letters, for I wrote to tell him what had been
happening to me during the past month. His soul took new strength and he
remained completely free from his sin and was never tired of giving thanks to
the Lord and to me, as if I had done anything for him, unless he was helped by
his belief that the Lord was granting me favours. He said that, when he found
himself sorely oppressed, he would read my letters, and the temptation would
leave him, and added that he was astounded to hear of what I had suffered and of
how he had been delivered. I was astounded myself, for that matter, and I would
have gone through as much for many years longer to set that soul free. May He be
praised for everything, for the prayers of those who serve the Lord can do a
great deal and I believe the sisters in this house do indeed serve Him. But the
devils must have loosed most of their wrath on me because all this happened
through my agency and the Lord permitted me to suffer on account of my sins.
One night, too, about this time, I thought the devils were
stifling me; and when the nuns had sprinkled a great deal of holy water about I
saw a huge crowd of them running away as quickly as though they were about to
fling themselves down a steep place. So often have these accursed creatures
tormented me and so little am I afraid of them, now that I see they cannot stir
unless the Lord allows them to, that I should weary Your Reverence, and weary
myself too, if I were to talk about them any further.
May what I have said help the true servant of God to make
little account of these horrors, which the devils present us with in order to
make us afraid. Let him realize that, every time we pay little heed to them,
they lose much of their power and the soul gains much more control over them. We
always derive some great benefit from these experiences, but of this benefit I
will say nothing lest I should write too fully. I will only describe something
that happened to me one night of All Souls. I was in an oratory: I had said one
nocturn and was repeating some very devotional prayers which follow it -- they
are extremely devotional: we have them in our office-book -- when actually the
devil himself alighted on the book, to prevent me from finishing the prayer. I
made the sign of the Cross and he went away. I then began again and he came
back. I think I began that prayer three times and not until I had sprinkled some
holy water on him could I finish it. At the same moment I saw several souls
coming out of purgatory: their time there must have been nearly up and I thought
that perhaps the devil was trying to impede their deliverance. I have seldom
seen him in bodily shape, but I have often seen him without any form, as in the
kind of vision I have described, in which no form is seen but the object is
known to be there.
I want also to describe the following incident, which caused me great alarm. One Trinity Sunday, I was in the choir of a certain convent, and, while in a rapture, I saw a great battle between devils and angels. I could not understand the meaning of that vision, but before a fortnight had passed it had become clear that it referred to a conflict that had taken place between some persons who practised prayer and others who did not, which did the house great harm. It was a conflict which lasted a long time and caused a great deal of commotion. On other occasions I saw around me a great multitude of devils, and yet I seemed to be enveloped by a great light, which prevented them from coming nearer. I realized that God was guarding me so that they should not come near me and thus make me offend Him. From who the author of the letter was, but he knew quite well. […]
Footnotes
[9] P. Báñez
altered this phrase to: "It has no desire to seek or possess any will save
that of Our Lord," and the change was followed in the editio princeps.
[10] St. Vincent Ferrer: De
Via spirituali, Chap. XIV: "Si dicerent tibi aliquid quod sit contra
fidem, et contra Scripturam sacram, aut contra bonos mores, abhorreas eorum
visionem et judicia, tanquam stultas dementias, et earum raptus, sicut
rabiamenta." St. Teresa could have read this book in a Spanish version
published at
[11] Psalm liv, 7 [A.V., lv, 6].
Tells how the Lord
was pleased to carry her in spirit to a place in hell which she had merited for
her sins. Describes a part of what was shown her there. Begins to tell of the
way and means whereby the convent of
A long time after the Lord had granted me many of the
favours which I have described, together with other very great ones, I was at
prayer one day when suddenly, without knowing how, I found myself, as I thought,
plunged right into hell. I realized that it was the Lord's will that I should
see the place which the devils had prepared for me there and which I had merited
for my sins. This happened in the briefest space of time, but, even if I were to
live for many years, I believe it would be impossible for me to forget it. The
entrance, I thought, resembled a very long, narrow passage, like a furnace, very
low, dark and closely confined; the ground seemed to be full of water which
looked like filthy, evil-smelling mud, and in it were many wicked-looking
reptiles. At the end there was a hollow place scooped out of a wall, like a
cupboard, and it was here that I found myself in close confinement. But the
sight of all this was pleasant by comparison with what I felt there. What I have
said is in no way an exaggeration.
My feelings, I think, could not possibly be exaggerated,
nor can anyone understand them. I felt a fire within my soul the nature of which
I am utterly incapable of describing. My bodily sufferings were so intolerable
that, though in my life I have endured the severest sufferings of this kind --
the worst it is possible to endure, the doctors say, such as the shrinking of
the nerves during my paralysis[18]
and many and divers more, some of them, as I have said, caused by the devil --
none of them is of the smallest account by comparison with what I felt then, to
say nothing of the knowledge that they would be endless and never-ceasing. And
even these are nothing by comparison with the agony of my soul, an oppression, a
suffocation and an affliction so deeply felt, and accompanied by such hopeless
and distressing misery, that I cannot too forcibly describe it. To say that it
is as if the soul were continually being torn from the body is very little, for
that would mean that one's life was being taken by another; whereas in this case
it is the soul itself that is tearing itself to pieces. The fact is that I
cannot find words to describe that interior fire and that despair, which is
greater than the most grievous tortures and pains. I could not see who was the
cause of them, but I felt, I think, as if I were being both burned and
dismembered; and I repeat that that interior fire and despair are the worst
things of all.
In that pestilential spot, where I was quite powerless to
hope for comfort, it was impossible to sit or lie, for there was no room to do
so. I had been put in this place which looked like a hole in the wall, and those
very walls, so terrible to the sight, bore down upon me and completely stifled
me. There was no light and everything was in the blackest darkness. I do not
understand how this can be, but, although there was no light, it was possible to
see everything the sight of which can cause affliction. At that time it was not
the Lord's will that I should see more of hell itself, but I have since seen
another vision of frightful things, which are the punishment of certain vices.
To look at, they seemed to me much more dreadful; but, as I felt no pain, they
caused me less fear. In the earlier vision the Lord was pleased that I should
really feel those torments and that affliction of spirit, just as if my body had
been suffering them. I do not know how it was, but I realized quite clearly that
it was a great favour and that it was the Lord's will that I should see with my
own eyes the place from which His mercy had delivered me. It is nothing to read
a description of it, or to think of different kinds of torture (as I have
sometimes done, though rarely, as my soul made little progress by the road of
fear): of how the devils tear the flesh with their pincers or of the various
other tortures that I have read about -- none of these are anything by
comparison with this affliction, which is quite another matter. In fact, it is
like a picture set against reality, and any burning on earth is a small matter
compared with that fire.
I was terrified by all this, and, though it happened nearly
six years ago, I still am as I write: even as I sit here, fear seems to be
depriving my body of its natural warmth. I never recall any time when I have
been suffering trials or pains and when everything that we can suffer on earth
has seemed to me of the slightest importance by comparison with this; so, in a
way, I think we complain without reason. I repeat, then, that this vision was
one of the most signal favours which the Lord has bestowed upon me: it has been
of the greatest benefit to me, both in taking from me all fear of the
tribulations and disappointments of this life and also in strengthening me to
suffer them and to give thanks to the Lord, Who, as I now believe, has delivered
me from such terrible and never-ending torments.
Since that time, as I say, everything has seemed light to
me by comparison with a single moment of such suffering as I had to bear during
that vision. I am shocked at myself when I think that, after having so often
read books which give some idea of the pains of hell, I was neither afraid of
them nor rated them at what they are. What could I have been thinking of? How
could anything give me satisfaction which was driving me to so awful a place?
Blessed be Thou, my God, for ever! How plain it has become that Thou didst love
me, much more than I love myself! How often, Lord, didst Thou deliver me from
that gloomy prison and how I would make straight for it again, in face of Thy
will!
This vision, too, was the cause of the very deep distress
which I experience because of the great number of souls who are bringing
damnation upon themselves -- especially of those Lutherans, for they were made
members of the Church through baptism. It also inspired me with fervent impulses
for the good of souls: for I really believe that, to deliver a single one of
them from such dreadful tortures, I would willingly die many deaths. After all,
if we see anyone on earth who is especially dear to us suffering great trial or
pain, our very nature seems to move us to compassion, and if his sufferings are
severe they oppress us too. Who, then, could bear to look upon a soul's endless
sufferings in that most terrible trial of all? No heart could possibly endure it
without great affliction. For even earthly suffering, which after all, as we
know, has a limit and will end with death, moves us to deep compassion. And that
other suffering has no limit: I do not know how we can look on so calmly and see
the devil carrying off as many souls as he does daily.
This also makes me wish that in so urgent a matter we were
not ourselves satisfied with anything short of doing all that we can. Let us
leave nothing undone; and to this end may the Lord be pleased to grant us His
grace. I recall that, wicked creature though I was, I used to take some trouble
to serve God and refrain from doing certain things which I see tolerated and
considered quite legitimate in the world; that I had serious illnesses, and bore
them with great patience, which the Lord bestowed on me; that I was not given to
murmuring or speaking ill of anyone, nor, I think, could I ever have wished
anyone ill; that I was not covetous and never remember having been envious in
such a way as grievously to offend the Lord; and that I abstained from certain
other faults, and, despicable though I was, lived in the most constant fear of
God. And yet look at the place where the devils had prepared a lodging for me!
It is true, I think, that my faults had merited a much heavier punishment; but
none the less, I repeat, the torture was terrible, and it is a perilous thing
for a soul to indulge in its own pleasure or to be placid and contented when at
every step it is falling into mortal sin. For the love of God, let us keep free
from occasions of sin and the Lord will help us as He has helped me. May it
please His Majesty not to let me out of His hand lest I fall once more, now that
I have seen the place to which that would lead me. May the Lord forbid this, for
His Majesty's sake. Amen.
After I had seen this vision, and other great things and
secrets which, being what He is, the Lord was pleased to show me, concerning the
bliss reserved for the good and the affliction for the wicked, I desired to find
some way and means of doing penance for all my evil deeds and of becoming in
some degree worthy to gain so great a blessing. I desired, therefore, to flee
from others and to end by withdrawing myself completely from the world. My
spirit was restless, yet the restlessness was not disturbing but pleasant: I
knew quite well that it was of God and that His Majesty had given my soul this
ardour to enable me to digest other and stronger meat than I had been in the
habit of eating.
I would wonder what I could do for God, and it occurred to
me that the first thing was to follow the vocation for a religious life which
His Majesty had given me by keeping my Rule with the greatest possible
perfection. And although in the house where I was living[19]
there were many servants of God, and He was well served in it, yet, as it was
very needy, we nuns would often leave it for other places where we could live
honourably and keep our vows. Furthermore, the Rule was not observed in its
primitive rigour but, as throughout the Order, according to the Bull of
Mitigation.[20]
There were also other disadvantages, such as the excessive amount of comfort
which I thought we had, for the house was a large and pleasant one. But this
habit of frequently going away (and I was one who did it a great deal) was a
serious drawback to me, for there were certain persons, to whom my superiors
could refuse nothing, who liked to have me with them, and so, when importuned by
these persons, they would order me to go and visit them. So things went on until
I was able to be in the convent very little; the devil must have had something
to do with my being away so much, though at the same time I was in the habit of
repeating to some of the nuns the things taught me by the people I met and these
did them a great deal of good.
One day it happened that a person to whom I was talking,[21]
with some other sisters, asked me why we should not become Discalced nuns,[22]
for it would be quite possible to find a way of establishing a convent. I had
had desires of this kind myself, so I began to discuss the matter with a
companion -- that widowed lady who, as I have said before, had the same desire.
She began to think out a way to find the money for such a house; I see now that
that would not have got us very far, though our desire to achieve our object
made us think that it would. But, for my own part, I was most happy in the house
where I was, for I was very fond both of the house and of my cell, and this held
me back. None the less, we agreed to commend the matter very earnestly to God.
One day, after Communion, the Lord gave me the most
explicit commands to work for this aim with all my might and made me wonderful
promises -- that the convent would not fail to be established; that great
service would be done to Him in it; that it should be called Saint Joseph's;
that He[23]
would watch over us at one door and Our Lady at the other; that Christ would go
with us; that the convent would be a star giving out the most brilliant light;
and that, although the Rules of the religious Orders were mitigated, I was not
to think He was very little served in them, for what would become of the world
if it were not for religious? I was to tell my confessor this[24]
and to say that it was He Who was giving me this command and that He asked him
not to oppose it nor to hinder me in carrying it out.
So great was the effect upon me of this vision and such was
the nature of these words which the Lord addressed to me that I could not doubt
that it was He Who had uttered them. This caused me the deepest distress,
because I had a fairly good idea of the serious disturbances and trials which
the work would cost me. I was very happy, too, in that house, and, though in the
past I had been accustomed to speak of such a foundation, it had not been with
any great degree of determination or certainty that the thing would be done. I
felt now that a great burden was being laid upon me, and, when I saw that I was
at the beginning of a very disturbing time, I became doubtful what I should do.
But the Lord appeared and spoke to me about it again and again, and so numerous
were the motives and arguments which He put before me, in such a way that I saw
that they were valid and that the project was His will, that I dared not do
otherwise than speak to my confessor about it and give him a written account of
everything that took place.
He did not venture to tell me expressly to give up the
idea, but he saw that, humanly speaking, there was no way of putting it into
practice, since my companion, who was to be the person to effect this, had no
resources at all, or very scanty ones. He told me to talk it over with my
Hardly had news of the project begun to be known here than
there descended upon us a persecution so severe that it is impossible in a few
words to describe it: people talked about us, laughed at us and declared that
the idea was ridiculous. Of me, they said that I was all right in the convent
where I was living, while my companion was subjected to such persecution that it
quite exhausted her. I did not know what to do, for up to a certain point I
thought these people were right. Worn out with it all as I was, I commended
myself to God and His Majesty began to give me consolation and encouragement. He
told me that I could now see what those saints who had founded religious Orders
had suffered: they had had to endure much more persecution than any I could
imagine and we must not allow ourselves to be troubled by it. He told me certain
things which I was to say to my companion, and to my absolute amazement we at
once felt comforted by what had happened and courageous enough to resist
everybody. And it is a fact that, at that time, both among people of prayer and
in the whole place, there was hardly anyone who was not against us and did not
consider our project absolutely ridiculous.[26]
There was so much commotion and talk of this kind in my own
convent that the Provincial thought it would be hard for him to set himself
against everybody; so he changed his mind and refused to sanction the plan. He
said that the revenue was not assured, that in any case there would be too
little of it, and that the plan was meeting with considerable opposition. In all
this he appeared to be right. So he dropped the matter and refused to sanction
the new convent. We, on whom the first blows now seemed to have fallen, were
very much distressed at this, and I myself was particularly so at finding the
Provincial against me, for his previous approval of the plan had justified me in
the eyes of all. My companion was refused absolution unless she would give up
the idea; it was incumbent on her, she was told, to remove the scandal.
She went to talk the matter over with a very learned man, a
most devout servant of God, of the Order of Saint Dominic,[27]
and to him she detailed the whole story. This she did even before the Provincial
withdrew his support from us, for we had no one in the whole place who would
advise us in the matter; and it was for that reason that they said the whole
thing had come out of our own heads. The lady gave this holy man an account of
everything and told him how much revenue she derived from her estate; she hoped
very much that he would help us, since at that time he was the most learned man
in the place, and there are few more learned than he in his entire Order. I
myself told him all that we were proposing to do and some of the reasons for it.
I said nothing to him about any of the revelations I had had, but only described
the reasons, other than supernatural, which were prompting me, for it was these
alone that I wanted him to take into account when giving us his opinion. He told
us that we must allow him a week to think the matter over before answering and
asked if we were definitely going to act upon whatever he said. I told him we
were; but although I said this, and I think I would have acted upon it,[28]
I never for a moment lost my confidence that the foundation would be made. My
companion had more faith; and, whatever people might say to her, nothing would
persuade her to abandon it.
For my own part, although, as I say, the abandonment of the
project seemed to me impossible, I believed the revelation to be true only in
the sense that it was not contrary to what is in Holy Scripture or to the laws
of the Church which we are obliged to keep; for, despite my belief that it
really came from God, if that learned man had told me that we could not act upon
it without offending Him and that we were acting against our conscience, I think
I should at once have abandoned the plan and sought some other way.
But the Lord showed me no other way than this. Later, this
servant of God told me that at one point he had definitely decided to urge us to
give the project up, because his attention had been directed to the popular
clamour, and also because to him, as to everyone else, it had seemed folly; that
a certain gentleman, on hearing that we had gone to him, had sent to advise him
to be careful what he did and not to help us; but that, when he had begun to
consider what he should say to us, to think over the matter, and to reflect upon
the intentions that were prompting us, the way we were setting to work and our
concern for our Order, he became convinced that we should be rendering God a
great service and that the scheme must not be abandoned. And so his answer was
that we should make haste to carry it out; he told us by what ways and methods
this should be done; and, although our income was small, we must be prepared to
some extent to trust God. Anyone, he said, who offered further opposition should
be referred to him for an answer; and he always helped us in this way, as I
shall show later.
We were greatly comforted by this, and also by the fact that several saintly persons, who had previously been against us, were now better disposed and some of them actually helped us. One of these was the saintly gentleman whom I have already mentioned. He now felt that the project, being founded, as in fact it was, on prayer, would lead to great perfection, and though he thought it would be difficult and impracticable to find the necessary means for making the foundation, he gave up his former view and decided that the idea might be from God, in which decision the Lord Himself must have inspired him. He also inspired that Master, the cleric and servant of God to whom, as I said, I had spoken first of all, who is a pattern to the whole place and a person whom God keeps there for the help and profit of many souls.[29] He, too, came forward to help me in the matter. And while things were in that position, and many people were continually helping us by their prayers, we practically completed the negotiations for purchasing the house. It was a small one, but that did not trouble me in the least, for the Lord had told me to start work as well as I could and in due course I should see what His Majesty would do for us. (And how clearly I have seen it!) And so, though I realized our income would be small, I believed that the Lord would have other ways of arranging things for us and would give us His help.
Proceeds with the
same subject -- the foundation of the convent of the glorious
It was when matters had reached this position and were so
near completion that the deeds were to be signed on the following day that the
attitude of our Father Provincial suddenly changed. I believe, and it has since
become apparent, that this change was by Divine appointment; for, while all
these prayers were being offered for us, the Lord was perfecting His work and
arranging for it to be accomplished in another way. As the Provincial would not
now sanction the foundation, my confessor at once forbade me to go on with it,
though the Lord knows what sore trials and afflictions it had cost me to bring
it to its present state. When the project was given up, and remained
unaccomplished, people became still more certain that it was all some ridiculous
women's idea, and the evil-speaking against me increased, though until then I
had been acting on my Provincial's orders.
I was now very unpopular
throughout my convent for having wanted to found a convent more strictly
enclosed. The nuns said that I was insulting them; that there were others there
who were better than myself, and so I could serve God quite well where I was;
that I had no love for my own convent; and that I should have done better to get
money for that than for founding another. Some said I ought to be thrown into
the prison-cell;[30]
others came out on my side, though of these there were very few. I saw quite
well that in many respects they were right and I could sometimes make allowances
for them; although, as I could not tell them the principal thing -- namely, that
I had been obeying the Lord's command -- I did not know what to do and so was
silent. At other times God was so gracious to me that none of this worried me in
the slightest; I gave up the project as easily and happily as though it had cost
me nothing. This nobody could believe, not even the very persons, given to
prayer as they were, with whom I had to do:
they supposed I must be very much distressed and ashamed -- even my
confessor could not really believe that I was not. It seemed to me that I had
done all I possibly could to fulfil the Lord's command and that therefore I had
no further obligation. So I remained in my own house, quite content and happy. I
could not, however give up my belief that the task would be duly accomplished
and, though I was unable to forecast the means and knew neither how nor when the
work would be done, I was quite sure that it would be done in time.
What troubled me a great deal was that on one occasion my
confessor[31]
wrote me a letter of a kind which suggested that I had in some way been acting
against his wishes. It must have been the Lord's will that I should not be
immune from trials coming from the source which would cause me the greatest
pain. For, amid this multitude of persecutions, my confessor, whom I had
expected to console me, wrote that I must now have realized that all that had
happened was just a dream and that henceforth I must lead a better life and not
try to do anything more of the kind or talk about it any further, since I now
saw what scandal it had occasioned. He said other things, too, all of them very
distressing. This troubled me more than everything else put together, for I
wondered if I had myself been an occasion of sin to others, if it had been my
fault that offence had been given to God, if these visions were illusory, if all
my prayer had been a deception and if I was sorely deluded and lost. These
thoughts oppressed me to such an extent that I was quite upset by them and
plunged into the deepest affliction. But the Lord, Who never failed me, and in
all these trials which I have enumerated often comforted and strengthened me, in
a way that need not here be described, told me at once not to distress myself
and said that I had not offended Him in the matter at all but had rendered Him
great service. He told me to do what my confessor ordered me and to keep silence
for the present and until the time came for the project to be resumed. This
brought me such comfort and satisfaction that all the persecution which I was
undergoing seemed nothing at all.
The Lord now showed me what a signal blessing it is to
suffer trials and persecutions for His sake, for so great was the growth in my
soul of love for God and of many other graces that I was astounded, and this
made me incapable of ceasing to desire trials. The other people thought I was
very much ashamed -- as indeed I should have been had the Lord not helped me in
these straits by granting me such great favours. It was now that I began to
experience the increasingly strong impulses of the love of God which I have
described, and also deeper raptures, although I was silent on this subject and
never spoke to anyone of what I had gained. The saintly Dominican[32]
did not cease to share my certainty that the project would be accomplished; and,
as I myself would take no further part in it, lest I should run contrary to the
obedience which I owed my confessor, he discussed it with my companion and they
wrote to
And now the devil began to contrive that one person after
another should hear that I had received some kind of revelation about this
matter, and people came to me in great concern to say that these were bad times
and that it might be that something would be alleged against me and I should
have to go before the Inquisitors. But they only amused me and made me laugh,
because I never had any fear about this. I knew quite well that in matters of
faith no one would ever find me transgressing even the smallest ceremony of the
Church, and that for the Church or for any truth of Holy Scripture I would
undertake to die a thousand deaths. So I told them not to be afraid, for my soul
would be in a very bad way if there were anything about it which could make me
fear the Inquisition. If ever I thought there might be, I would go and pay it a
visit of my own accord; and if anything were alleged against me the Lord would
deliver me and I should be very much the gainer. I discussed this with my
Dominican Father, who, as I say, was a very learned man, so that I knew I could
rely on anything he might say to me. I told him, as clearly as I could, all
about my visions, my way of prayer and the great favours which the Lord was
granting me, and I begged him to think it all over very carefully, to let me
know if there was anything in them contrary to Holy Scripture and to tell me his
feelings about the whole matter. He reassured me a great deal and I think it was
a help to him too; for, although he was very good, from that time onward he
devoted himself much more to prayer, and retired to a monastery of his Order
where there is great scope for solitude, so that he might the better practise
prayer; and here he stayed for over two years.[33]
He was then commanded under obedience to leave, which caused him great regret,
but he was such an able man that they needed him.
In one way, I was very sorry when he went, because I too
needed him badly. But I did nothing to unsettle him, for I realized that the
gain was his; and, when I was feeling very much grieved at his departure, the
Lord told me to take comfort and not be distressed, because he was being led in
the right way. When he came back, his soul had made such progress and his
spiritual growth had been so great that he told me after his return that he
would not have missed going for anything. And I too could say the same thing;
for previously he had been reassuring and comforting me only by his learning,
whereas now he did so as well by the ample spiritual experience which he had
acquired of things supernatural. And God brought him back just at the right
time, for His Majesty saw that he would be needed to help with this convent, the
foundation of which was His Majesty's will.
For five or six months I remained silent, taking no further
steps with regard to the plan and never even speaking about it, and the Lord
gave me not a single command. I had no idea what was the reason for this, but I
could not get rid of my belief that the foundation would be duly made. At the
end of that time, the priest who had been Rector of the Company of Jesus having
left, His Majesty brought a successor to him here who was a very spiritual man,
of great courage, intelligence and learning, at a time when I was in dire need.[34]
For the priest who at that time was hearing my confessions had a superior over
him, and in the Company they are extremely particular about the virtue of never
doing the slightest thing save in conformity with the will of those who are over
them. So, although he thoroughly understood my spirit and desired its progress,
there were certain matters about which, for very good reasons, he dared not be
at all definite. My spirit, which was now experiencing the most vehement
impulses, was greatly troubled at being constrained in this way; I did not,
however, depart from his orders.
One day, when I was in great affliction, thinking that my
confessor did not believe me, the Lord told me not to be worried, for my
distress would soon be over. I was very glad, supposing His meaning to be that I
was soon going to die, and whenever I thought of this I was very happy. Later I
realized that He was referring to the arrival of this Rector whom I have
mentioned; for I never had any reason to feel so distressed again, because the
new Rector placed no restrictions upon the minister who was my confessor, but
told him that, as there was no cause for fear, he should comfort me and not lead
me by so strait a path, but allow the Spirit of the Lord to work in me, for
sometimes it seemed as if these strong spiritual impulses prevented my soul even
from breathing.
This Rector came to see me and my confessor told me to
consult him with the utmost frankness and freedom. I used to dislike very much
speaking about the matter, and yet, when I went into the confessional, I felt
something in my spirit which I do not recall having felt in the presence of
anyone else, either before or since. I cannot possibly describe its nature or
compare it with anything whatsoever. For it was a spiritual joy: my soul knew
that here was a soul that would understand and be in harmony with mine,
although, as I say, I do not know how this happened. If I had ever spoken to him
or had been told great things about him, it would not have been strange that I
should have felt happy and been sure that he would understand me; but I had
never spoken a word to him before, nor had he to me, nor was he a person about
whom I had ever previously heard anything. Later I discovered that my instinct
had not been wrong, and my contact with him has in every way been of great
benefit to me and to my soul; for he knows how to treat persons whom the Lord
seems to have brought to an advanced state: he makes them run, not walk a step
at a time. His method is to train them in complete detachment and mortification,
and for this, as for many other things, the Lord has given him the greatest
aptitude.
When I began to have dealings with him, I realized at once
what type of director he was, and saw that he had a pure and holy soul and a
special gift from the Lord for the discernment of spirits. From this I derived
much comfort. Soon after I came under his direction, the Lord began to lay it
upon me again that I must take up the matter of the convent and put all my
reasons and aims before my confessor and this Rector so that they should not
hinder me. Some of the things I said made them afraid, but this Father Rector
never doubted that I was being led by the Spirit of God, having studied and
thought very carefully about the effects which would be produced by the
foundation. In short, after hearing these numerous reasons, they did not dare to
risk hindering me.
My confessor now gave me leave once more to take up the
work again with all my might. I saw clearly with what a task I was burdening
myself, since I was quite alone and there was so very little that I could do. We
agreed that the work should be done in all secrecy, and so I arranged that a
sister of mine,[35]
who lived outside the town, should buy the house and furnish it, as if it were
to be for herself, the Lord having given us money, from various sources, for its
purchase. It would take a long time to tell how the Lord continued to provide
for us. I thought it of great importance to do nothing against obedience, but I
knew that, if I told my superiors about it, everything would be ruined, just as
it was on the last occasion, and this time things might be even worse. Getting
the money, finding a convent, arranging for its purchase and having it furnished
cost me many trials, some of which I had to suffer quite alone; my companion did
what she could, but that was little -- so little as to be hardly anything beyond
allowing the work to be done in her name and with her approval. All the most
difficult part of the work was mine and there were so many different things to
do that I wonder now how I was able to go through with it. Sometimes in my
distress I would say: "My Lord, how is it that Thou commandest me to do
things which seem impossible? If only I were free, woman though I am -- ! But
being bound in so many ways, without money or means of procuring it, either for
the Brief or for anything else, what can I do, Lord?"
Once, when I was in a difficulty and could not think what
to do, or how I was going to pay some workmen,
On Saint Clare's day, as I was going to Communion, that
Saint appeared to me in great beauty and told me to put forth all my efforts and
proceed with what I had begun and she would help me. I conceived a great
devotion for her and her words turned out to be the exact truth, for a convent
of her Order, which is near our own, is helping to maintain us. What is more,
she has gradually brought this desire of mine to such perfection that the
poverty observed by the blessed Saint in her own house is being observed in this
and we live upon alms. It has cost me no little trouble to get this principle
quite definitely and authoritatively approved by the Holy Father -- this, of
course, being essential -- so that we shall never have any income.[39]
And -- at the request, it may be, of this blessed Saint -- the Lord is doing
still more for us. Without any demand on our part His Majesty is providing amply
for all our needs. May He be blessed for it all. Amen.
At this same period, on the festival of the Assumption of
Our Lady, I was in a monastery of the Order of the glorious Saint Dominic,
thinking of the many sins which in times past I had confessed in that house and
of other things concerning my wicked life, when there came upon me a rapture so
vehement that it nearly drew me forth out of myself altogether.[40]
I sat down and I remember even now that I could neither see the Elevation nor
hear Mass being said, and later this caused me a certain amount of scruple.
While in this state, I thought I saw myself being clothed in a garment of great
whiteness and brightness. At first I could not see who was clothing me, but
later I saw Our Lady on my right hand and my father
The beauty which I saw in Our Lady was wonderful, though I
could discern in her no particularly beautiful detail of form: it was her face
as a whole that was so lovely and the whiteness and the amazing splendour of her
vestments, though the light was not dazzling, but quite soft. The glorious
As to what the Queen of the Angels said about obedience the
point of it is that it was a grief to me not to make over the convent to the
Order, but the Lord had told me that it would not be wise for me to do so. He
gave me reasons for which it would be extremely unwise and told me to send to
Footnotes
[10] This would be either P. Báñez or P. García de
Toledo, who were the Saint's confessors from about 1563 to 1566.
[11] [The brackets here are mine. The sentence is an
excellent example (and there are many others in the Life) of St. Teresa's inconsequent way of writing. An idea comes
into her head and at once she writes it down, even if (which is not the case
here) doing so completely dislocates her sentence.]
[12] P. Federico de S. Antonio (Vita della Santa Madre Teresa di Gesœ, Bk. I, Chap. XXII) thinks
the Saint had contemplated going to a convent in
[13] This reference is probably to a stay which St. Teresa
made with her younger sister, Juana, and her husband, Don Juan de Ovalle. From
letters which the Saint wrote to her brother, Don Lorenzo, it is clear that lack
of means, together with Don Juan's difficult temperament, made Doña Juana's
married life anything but a smooth one. The two came from Alba to
[14] [Honra;
and so throughout this and the following paragraphs. Cf. n. 68.]
[15]["Girls'," may seem an
unduly colloquial word, but the Spanish is even more unexpected: niñas,
"young girls", "children".]
[16][Cf. n. 247. "Reputation"
would be a better word here, but the wordplay in the last sentence of the
paragraph requires "honour".]
[17][This is evidently a reminiscent
reference to Ch. XXX. The application of the figure, however, it will be seen,
is slightly different.]
[19] The Convent of the Incarnation,
[20] A Bull published by Pope Eugenius
IV on
[21] María de Ocampo, daughter of Don
Diego de Cepeda and Doña Beatriz de la Cruz y Ocampo, who were St. Teresa's
cousins. She herself took the Discalced habit at
[22] Another account of this
conversation [cit. P. Silverio, I, 268, n.] says that it arose out of a
discussion on the hermit-saints. Some of the nuns suggested the establishment of
a small convent in which a few of them could lead a more penitential life. St.
Teresa then said they ought to restore the primitive Rule and one nun offered
her financial help if she would found a convent of the kind described. At this
point, Doña Guiomar de Ulloa (the "widowed lady" of the text)
arrived, and, on being told of the conversation, said that she too would help in
the good work.
[23] [I translate "He" in
deference to P. Silverio's capitalization of the pronoun, but a likelier reading
seems to me "he" (
[25] This was not, as is often said, P.
Angel de Salazar, but P. Gregorio Fernández, who was Provincial from 1551 to
1553 and again from 1559 to the end of 1561.
[26] The Saint's niece Teresita related
[cf. P. Silverio, I, 270, n.] that the proposed reform was even publicly
denounced from Avilan pulpits. On one occasion, she says, St. Teresa and her
sister Doña Juana went to hear a sermon at
[27] P. Pedro Ibáñez, one of the
Saint's chief supporters in the early days of her Reform, of which, however, he
saw very little, for he died in 1565.
[28] A line is obliterated here,
presumably by P. Báñez.
[29] Master Gaspar Daza. [The title of
"Master" was conferred by the Orders upon certain religious in virtue
of teaching posts held by them, or as a distinction.
[30] The prison-cell of the Incarnation
still exists. It was quite common in those days for religious communities to
imprison their recalcitrant members.
[32] P. Pedro Ibáñez.
[33] At Trianos, in the
[34] The Rector who left
[35] Doña Juana who lived at Alba. Cf.
n. 246.
[36] The benefactor was St. Teresa's
brother Lorenzo, who had emigrated to
[37] The house, which St. Teresa bought
through the agency of her brother-in-law Don Juan de Ovalle, was indeed so small
that all her biographers have compared it to the "little porch of
Bethlehem" (cf. Foundations: Vol. III, p. 66). Julian de Avila (Vida
de Santa Teresa, Part II, Chap. VIII) describes the chapel as "hardly
more than ten paces in length". The diminutive bell used in this first
convent was restored in 1868 to
[38] [The second personal pronouns in
this quotation are in the singular, but the phraseology is markedly colloquial,
and to bring this out I have used "you" in preference to
"thou".]
[39] The original Brief (February 7,
1562), addressed to Doña Aldonza de Guzmán and her daughter Doña Guiomar de
Ulloa, authorized them to hold property in common, as the Saint had not at that
time decided to forgo an endowment. A Rescript dated
[40] This rapture is believed to have
come to the Saint in 1561, in the chapel known as that of the Santísimo Cristo
in the Dominican
[41] The Bishop, when the foundation was
made, was Don Alvaro de Mendoza (n. 267, above), who had taken possession of his
office on