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

wrong. I had not yet read it through after I

had written it, when your reverence sent for it. Some things in

it may not be very clearly explained, and there may be some

repetitions; for the time I could give to it was so short, that I

could not stop to see what I was writing. I entreat your

reverence to correct it and have it copied, if it is to be sent

on to the Father-Master, Avila, [18] for perhaps some one may

recognise the handwriting. I wish very much you would order it

so that he might see it, for I began to write it with a view to

that I shall be greatly comforted if he shall think that I am on

a safe road, now that, so far as it concerns me, there is nothing

more to be done.

Your reverence will do in all things that which to you shall seem

good, and you will look upon yourself as under an obligation to

take care of one who trusts her soul to your keeping. I will

pray for the soul of your reverence to our Lord, so long as I

live. You will, therefore, be diligent in His service, in order

that you may be able to help me; for your reverence will see by

what I have written how profitable it is to give oneself, as your

reverence has begun to do, wholly unto Him who gives Himself to

us so utterly without measure.

Blessed be His Majesty for ever! I hope of His mercy we shall

see one another one day, when we, your reverence and myself,

shall see more clearly the great mercies He has shown us, and

when we shall praise Him for ever and ever. Amen. This book was

finished in June, 1562.

“This date refers to the first account which the holy Mother

Teresa of Jesus wrote of her life; it was not then divided into

chapters. Afterwards she made this copy, and inserted in it many

things which had taken place subsequent to this date, such as the

foundation of the monastery of St. Joseph of Avila, as in

169. [19]—Fray Do Bañes.”

1. Ch. xxxii. § 1.

2. Ch. xxviii. § 14.

3. St. Matt. v. 18: “Iota unum aut unus apex non præteribit

a lege.”

4. Ch. iv. § 10.

5. “Ecce quantum spatiatus sum in memoria mea quærens Te, Domine;

et non Te inveni extra eam. . . . Ex quo didici Te, manes in

memoria mea, et illic Te invenio cum reminiscor Tui et delector

in Te” (Confess. x. 24). See Inner Fortress, Sixth Mansion,

ch. iv.

6. Ch. xx. § 26.

7. Ch. xxv. § 18, ch. xxvi. § 4. See St. John of the Cross,

Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch. xxii.

8. § 8.

9. Yepez says that the Order here spoken of is the Carmelite, and

Ribera understands the Saint to refer to that of St. Dominic.

The Bollandists, n. 1638-1646, on the whole, prefer the authority

of Ribera to that of Yepez and give good reasons for their

preference, setting aside as insufficient the testimony of Fray

Luis of the Assumption, who says he heard himself from the

Venerable Anne of St. Bartholomew that the Order in question is

the Order of our Lady of Mount Carmel. Don Vicente, the Spanish

editor, rejects the opinion of Ribera, on the ground that it

could not have been truly said of the Dominicans in the sixteenth

century that the Order was in “some degree fallen,” for it was in

a most flourishing state. He therefore was inclined to believe

that the Saint referred to the Augustinians or to the

Franciscans. But, after he had printed this part of his book, he

discovered among the MSS. in the public library of Madrid a

letter of Anne of St. Bartholomew, addressed to Fray Luis of the

Assumption, in which the saintly companion of St. Teresa says

that the “Order was ours.” Don Vicente has published the letter

in the Appendix, p. 566.

10. Job xiv. 2: “Nunquam in eodem statu permanet.”

11. See ch. xxxvii. §§ 4, 6.

12. See ch. vii. § 18.

13. Ch. xxx. § 10.

14. Ch. xxxi. §§ 16, 17.

15. Ch. xxviii. § 6.

16. See ch. xiv. § 12.

17. This letter, which seems to have accompanied the “Life,” is

printed among the other letters of the Saint, and is addressed to

her confessor, the Dominican friar, Pedro Ibañez. It is the

fifteenth letter in the first volume of the edition of Madrid;

but it is not dated there.

18. Juan de Avila, commonly called the Apostle of Andalusia.

19. I.e. of the MS. See p. 337 [Transcriber’s note:

ch. xxxvi. § 15] of this translation.

The

Relations or Manifestations

of Her

Spiritual State

Which

St. Teresa Submitted to Her Confessors.

The Relations.

Relation 1.

Sent to St. Peter of Alcantara in 1560 from the Monastery of the

Incarnation, Avila. [1]

1. The method of prayer I observe at present is this: when I am

in prayer, it is very rarely that I can use the understanding,

because the soul becomes at once recollected, remains in repose,

or falls into a trance, so that I cannot in any way have the use

of the faculties and the senses,—so much so, that the hearing

alone is left; but then it does not help me to

understand anything.

2. It often happens, when I am not even thinking of the things of

God, but engaged in other matters, and when prayer seems to be

beyond my power, whatever efforts I might make, because of the

great aridity I am in, bodily pains contributing thereto, that

this recollection or elevation of spirit comes upon me so

suddenly that I cannot withstand it, and the fruits and blessings

it brings with it are in a moment mine: and this, without my

having had a vision, or heard anything, or knowing where I am,

except that when the soul seems to be lost I see it make great

progress, which I could not have made if I had laboured for a

whole year, so great is my gain.

3. At other times certain excessive impetuosities occur,

accompanied with a certain fainting away of the soul for God, so

that I have no control over myself; [2] my life seems to have

come to an end, and so it makes me cry out and call upon God; and

this comes upon me with great vehemence. Sometimes I cannot

remain sitting, so great is the oppression of the heart; and this

pain comes on without my doing anything to cause it, and the

nature of it is such that my soul would be glad never to be

without it while I live. And the longings I have are longings

not to live; and they come on because it seems as if I must live

on without being able to find any relief, for relief comes from

the vision of God, which comes by death, and death is what I

cannot take; and with all this my soul thinks that all except

itself are filled with consolations, and that all find help in

their troubles, but not itself. The distress thus occasioned is

so intense that, if our Lord did not relieve it by throwing it

into a trance, whereby all is made calm, and the soul rests in

great quiet and is satisfied, now by seeing something of that

which it desires, now by hearing other things, it would seem to

be impossible for it to be delivered from this pain.

4. At other times there come upon me certain desires to serve

God, with a vehemence so great that I cannot describe it, and

accompanied with a certain pain at seeing how unprofitable I am.

It seems to me then that there is nothing in the world, neither

death, nor martyrdom, that I could not easily endure.

This conviction, too, is not the result of any reflection, but

comes in a moment. I am wholly changed, and I know not whence

cometh such great courage. I think I should live to raise my

voice, and publish to all the world how important it is for men

not to be satisfied with the common way, and how great the good

is that God will give us if we prepare ourselves to receive it.

I say it again, these desires are such that I am melted away in

myself, for I seem to desire what I cannot have. The body seems

to me to hold me in prison, through its inability to serve God

and my state [3] in anything; for if it were not for the body, I

might do very great things, so far as my strength would allow;

and thus, because I see myself without any power whatever to

serve God, I feel this pain in a way wholly indescribable; the

issue is delight, recollection, and the consolation of God.

5. Again, it has happened, when these longings to serve Him come

upon me, that I wish to do penance, but I am not able. It would

be a great relief to me, and it does relieve and cheer me, though

what I do is almost nothing, because of my bodily weakness; and

yet, if I were to give way to these my longings, I believe I

should observe no moderation.

6. Sometimes, if I have to speak to any one, I am greatly

distressed, and I suffer so much that it makes me weep

abundantly; for my whole desire is to be alone, and solitude

comforts me, though at times I neither pray nor read, and

conversation—particularly of kindred and connections—seems

oppressive, and myself to be as a slave, except when I speak to

those whose conversation is of prayer and matters of the

soul,—in these I find comfort and joy; [4] yet these

occasionally are too much for me, and I would rather not see

them, but go where I might be alone: though this is not often the

case, for those especially who direct my conscience always

console me.

7. At other times it gives me much pain that I must eat and

sleep, and that I see I cannot forego these things, being less

able to do so than any one. I submit that I may serve God, and

thus I offer up those actions to him. Time seems to me too

short, and that I have not enough for my prayer, for I should

never be tired of being alone. I am always wishing I had time

for reading, for I have been always fond of reading. I read very

little, for when I take up a book I become recollected through

the pleasure it gives me, and thus my reading is turned into

prayer: and it is but rarely, for I have many occupations; and

though they are good, they do not give me the pleasure which

reading would give. And thus I am always wishing for more time,

and everything becomes disagreeable, so I believe, because I see

I cannot do what I wish and desire.

8. All these desires, with an increase in virtue, have been given

me by our Lord since He raised me to this prayer of quiet, and

sent these raptures. I find myself so improved that I look on

myself as being a mass of perdition before this. These raptures

and visions leave me in possession of the blessings I shall now

speak of; and I maintain that, if there be any good in me, they

are the occasions of it.

9. I have made a very strong resolution never to offend God, not

even venially. I would rather die