Life of St Teresa of Jesus, Teresa of Avila [top ten books to read TXT] 📗

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

recollected; and the soul should be kept in quiet. This prayer

is like the sobbing of little children, who seem on the point of

choking, and whose disordered senses are soothed by giving them

to drink. So here reason should draw in the reins, because

nature itself may be contributing to it and we should consider

with fear that all this may not be perfect, and that much

sensuality may be involved in it. The infant soul should be

soothed by the caresses of love, which shall draw forth its love

in a gentle way, and not, as they say, by force of blows.

This love should be inwardly under control, and not as a caldron,

fiercely boiling because too much fuel has been applied to it,

and out of which 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 which come out of these

emotions, and which do so much harm.

12. In the beginning, I had tears of this kind. They left

me with a disordered head and a wearied spirit, and for a day or

two afterwards unable to resume my prayer. Great discretion,

therefore, is necessary at first, in order that everything may

proceed gently, and that the operations of the spirit may be

within; all outward manifestations should be carefully avoided.

13. These other impetuosities are very different. It is not

we who apply the fuel; the fire is already kindled, and we are

thrown into it in a moment to be consumed. It is by no efforts

of the soul that it sorrows over the wound which the absence of

our Lord has inflicted on it; it is far otherwise; for an arrow

is driven into the entrails to the very quick, [10] 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, [11] 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: “Quemadmodum

desiderat cervus ad fontes aquarum”! [12] 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 I know of can take it away. As relief is not to be had

here, these medicines are too mean for so high a disease.

Some slight mitigation may be had, and the pain may pass away a

little, by praying God to relieve its sufferings: but the soul

sees no relief except in death, by which it thinks to attain

completely to the fruition of its good. At other times, these

impetuosities are so violent, that the soul can do neither this

nor 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 have at times a

vision of this kind: I saw an angel close by me, on my left side,

in bodily form. This I am not accustomed to see, unless very

rarely. Though I have visions of angels frequently, yet I see

them only by an intellectual vision, such as I have spoken of

before. [13] It was our Lord’s will that in this vision I should

see the angel in this wise. He was not large, but small of

stature, and most beautiful—his face burning, as if he were one

of the highest angels, who seem to be all of fire: they must be

those whom we call cherubim. [14] Their names they never tell

me; but I see very well that there is in heaven so great a

difference between one angel and another, and between these and

the others, that I cannot 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, [15] 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. [16]

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. [17]

19. I was in this state from time to time, whenever it was

our Lord’s pleasure to throw me into those deep trances, which I

could not prevent even when I was in the company of others, and

which, to my deep vexation, came to be 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, [18]—which is

in many ways very different from it, and of greater worth.

On the other hand, when this pain, of which I am now speaking,

begins, our Lord seems to lay hold of the soul, and to throw it

into a trance, so that there is no time for me to have any sense

of pain or suffering, because fruition ensues at once. May He be

blessed for ever, who hath bestowed such great graces on one who

has responded so ill to blessings so great!

1. Ch. xl.

2. 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. 6).

3. Y diese higas. “Higa es una manera de menosprecio que hacemos

cerrando el puño, y mostrando el dedo pulgar por entre el dedo

indice, y el medio” (Cobarruvias, in voce).

4. 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 Bañes, one of her confessors. See also Inner

Fortress, vi. 9, § 7.

5. See ch. xxvii. § 3, and ch. xxviii. § 4.

6. Ch. xxv. § 18.

7. The cross was made of ebony (Ribera). It is not known where

that cross is now. The Saint gave it to her sister, Doña 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).

8. See Relation, i. § 3.

9. Ch. xx. § 11.

10. Inner Fortress, vi. 11, § 2; St. John of the Cross, Spiritual

Canticle, st. 1, p. 22, Engl. trans.

11. § 10.

12. Psalm xli. 2: “As the longing of the hart for the fountains

of waters, so is the longing of my soul for Thee, O my God.”

13. Ch. xxvii. § 3.

14. 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 Bañes, 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.

15. See Relation, viii. § 16.

16. “The most probable opinion is, that the piercing of the heart

of the Saint took place in 1559. The hymn which she composed on

that occasion was discovered in Seville in 1700 (“En las internas

entrañas”). On the high altar of the Carmelite church in Alba de

Tormes, the heart of the Saint thus pierced is to be seen; and I

have seen it myself more than once” (De la Fuente).

17. Brev. Rom. in fest. S. Teresiæ, Oct. 15, Lect. v.: “Tanto

autem divini amoris incendio cor ejus conflagravit, ut merito

viderit Angelum ignito jaculo sibi præcordia transverberantem.”

The Carmelites keep the feast of this piercing of the Saint’s

heart on the 27th of August.

18. Ch. xx. § 11.

Chapter XXX.

St. Peter of Alcantara Comforts the Saint. Great Temptations and

Interior Trials.

1. When I saw that I was able to do little or nothing towards

avoiding these great impetuosities, I began also to be afraid of

them, because I could not understand how this pain and joy could

subsist together. I knew it was possible enough for bodily pain

and spiritual joy to dwell together; but the coexistence of a

spiritual pain so excessive as this, and of joy so deep, troubled

my understanding. 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