Life of St Teresa of Jesus by Teresa of Avila (e ink epub reader TXT) 📕

servant of our Lord: I should like to see what you can do

against me.

25. And certainly they seemed to be afraid of me, for I was left

in peace: I feared them so little, that the terrors, which until

now oppressed me, quitted me altogether; and though I saw them

occasionally,—I shall speak of this by and by, [16]—I was never

again afraid of them—on the contrary, they seemed to be afraid

of me. [17] I found myself endowed with a certain authority over

them, given me by the Lord of all, so that I cared no more for

them than for flies. They seem to be such cowards; for their

strength fails them at the sight of any one who despises them.

These enemies have not the courage to assail any but those whom

they see ready to give in to them, or when God permits them to do

so, for the greater good of His servants, whom they may try

and torment.

26. May it please His Majesty that we fear Him whom we ought to

fear, [18] and understand that one venial sin can do us more harm

than all hell together; for that is the truth. The evil spirits

keep us in terror, because we expose ourselves to the assaults of

terror by our attachments to honours, possessions, and pleasures.

For then the evil spirits, uniting themselves with us,—we become

our own enemies when we love and seek what we ought to hate,—do

us great harm. We ourselves put weapons into their hands, that

they may assail us; those very weapons with which we should

defend ourselves. It is a great pity. But if, for the love of

God, we hated all this, and embraced the cross, and set about His

service in earnest, Satan would fly away before such realities,

as from the plague. He is the friend of lies, and a lie

himself. [19] He will have nothing to do with those who walk in

the truth. When he sees the understanding of any one obscured,

he simply helps to pluck out his eyes; if he sees any one already

blind, seeking peace in vanities,—for all the things of this

world are so utterly vanity, that they seem to be but the

playthings of a child,—he sees at once that such a one is a

child; he treats him as a child, and ventures to wrestle with

him—not once, but often.

27. May it please our Lord that I be not one of these; and may

His Majesty give me grace to take that for peace which is really

peace, that for honour which is really honour, and that for

delight which is really a delight. Let me never mistake one

thing for another—and then I snap my fingers at all the devils,

for they shall be afraid of me. I do not understand those

terrors which make us cry out, Satan, Satan! when we may say,

God, God! and make Satan tremble. Do we not know that he cannot

stir without the permission of God? What does it mean? I am

really much more afraid of those people who have so great a fear

of the devil, than I am of the devil himself. Satan can do me no

harm whatever, but they can trouble me very much, particularly if

they be confessors. I have spent some years of such great

anxiety, that even now I am amazed that I was able to bear it.

Blessed be our Lord, who has so effectually helped me!

1. Philip. a SS. Trinitate, Theolog. Mystic. par. 2,

tr. iii. disc. iv. art. v.: “Tres sunt modi divinæ locutionis;

completur enim divina locutio vel verbis successivis, vel verbis

formalibus, vel verbis substantialibus. Completur verbis

successivis cum anima in semetipsa multum collecta quosdam

discursus internos de Deo vel de aliis divina format directione;

hujusmodi quippe discursus, quamvis ab ipsa sibi formati, a Deo

tamen dirigente procedunt. Completur verbis formalibus cum anima

vel in se collecta, vel aliis occupata, percipit quædam verba

formaliter ac distincte divinitus expressa, ad quorum formationem

anima passive penitus se habet. Completur verbis substantialibus

cum anima vel in se collecta, vel etiam distracta, percipit

quædam verba viva et efficacia, divinitus ad se directa, quæ

virtutem aut substantialem effectum per ipsa significatum

fortiter ac infallibiliter causant.” See also St. John of the

Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel, b. ii. ch. xxviii. and the

following, p. 188.

2. From 1555 to 1557, when the Saint was advised by St. Francis

de Borja to make no further resistance (Bouix).

3. See ch. xxvii. § 4.

4. § 4.

5. § 5.

6. The doctrine here laid down is not that of the second

water,—chs. xiv. and xv.,—but that of the third, ch. xvi.

The Saint herself speaks doubtfully; and as she had but little

time for writing, she could not correct nor read again what she

had written (De la Fuente).

7. § 6.

8. § 2.

9. Ch. vii. § 12.

10. Ch. xxviii. § 6, ch. xxx. § 10.

11. Ch. vii. § 11.

12. Ch. iv. § 6, ch. v. § 14.

13. It was the church of the Jesuits (Bouix).

14. See Inner Fortress, vi. 3, § 5.

15. St. Matt. viii. 26; “Imperavit ventis et mari, et facta est

tranquillitas magna.”

16. Ch. xxxi. § 2.

17. St. John of the Cross, Spiritual Canticle, st. 24, p. 128,

Eng. trans.

18. St. Matt. x. 26, 28; “Ne ergo timueritis eos, . . . sed

potius timete Eum.”

19. St. John viii. 44: “Mendax est, et pater ejus.”

Chapter XXVI.

How the Fears of the Saint Vanished. How She Was Assured That

Her Prayer Was the Work of the Holy Spirit.

1. I look upon the courage which our Lord has implanted in me

against evil spirits as one of the greatest mercies which He has

bestowed upon me; for a cowardly soul, afraid of anything but sin

against God, is a very unseemly thing, when we have on our side

the King omnipotent, our Lord most high, who can do all things,

and subjects all things to Himself. There is nothing to be

afraid of if we walk, as I said before, [1] in the truth, in the

sight of His Majesty, with a pure conscience. And for this end,

as I said in the same place, I would have myself all fears, that

I may not for one instant offend Him who in that instant is able

to destroy us. If His Majesty is pleased with us, whoever

resists us—be he who he may—will be utterly disappointed.

2. It may be so, you will say; but, then, where is that soul so

just as to please Him in everything?—and that is the reason why

we are afraid. Certainly it is not my soul, which is most

wretched, unprofitable, and full of misery. God is not like man

in His ways; He knows our weakness. But the soul perceives, by

the help of certain great signs, whether it loves God of a truth;

for the love of those souls who have come to this state is not

hidden as it was at first, but is full of high impulses, and of

longings for the vision of God, as I shall show hereafter—or

rather, as I have shown already. [2] Everything wearies,

everything distresses, everything torments the soul, unless it be

suffered with God, or for God. There is no rest which is not a

weariness, because the soul knows itself to be away from its true

rest; and so love is made most manifest, and, as I have just

said, impossible to hide.

3. It happened to me, on another occasion to be grievously tried,

and much spoken against on account of a certain affair,—of which

I will speak hereafter, [3]—by almost everybody in the place

where I am living, and by the members of my Order. When I was in

this distress, and afflicted by many occasions of disquiet

wherein I was placed, our Lord spoke to me, saying: “What art

thou afraid of? knowest thou not that I am almighty? I will do

what I have promised thee.” And so, afterwards, was it done.

I found myself at once so strong, that I could have undertaken

anything, so it seemed, immediately, even if I had to endure

greater trials for His service, and had to enter on a new state

of suffering. These locutions are so frequent, that I cannot

count them; many of them are reproaches, and He sends them when I

fall into imperfections. They are enough to destroy a soul.

They correct me, however; for His Majesty—as I said

before [4]—gives both counsel and relief. There are others

which bring my former sins into remembrance,—particularly when

He is about to bestow upon me some special grace,—in such a way

that the soul beholds itself as being really judged; for those

reproaches of God put the truth before it so distinctly, that it

knows not what to do with itself. Some are warnings against

certain dangers to myself or others; many of them are prophecies

of future things, three or four years beforehand; and all of them

have been fulfilled: some of them I could mention. Here, then,

are so many reasons for believing that they come from God, as

make it impossible, I believe, for anybody to mistake them.

4. The safest course in these things is to declare, without fail,

the whole state of the soul, together with the graces our Lord

gives me, to a confessor who is learned, and obey him. I do so;

and if I did not, I should have no peace. Nor is it right that

we women, who are unlearned, should have any: there can be no

danger in this, but rather great profit. This is what our Lord

has often commanded me to do, and it is what I have often done.

I had a confessor [5] who mortified me greatly, and now and then

distressed me: he tried me heavily, for he disquieted me

exceedingly; and yet he was the one who, I believe, did me the

most good. Though I had a great affection for him, I was

occasionally tempted to leave him; I thought that the pain he

inflicted on me disturbed my prayer. Whenever I was resolved on

leaving him, I used to feel instantly that I ought not to do so;

and one reproach of our Lord would press more heavily upon me

than all that my confessor did. Now and then, I was worn

out—torture on the one hand, reproaches on the other.

I required it all, for my will was but little subdued. Our Lord

said to me once, that there was no obedience where there was no

resolution to suffer; that I was to think of His sufferings, and

then everything would be easy.

5. One of my confessors, to whom I went in the beginning, advised

me once, now that my spiritual state was known to be the work of

God, to keep silence, and not speak of these things to any one,

on the ground that it was safer to keep these graces secret.

To me, the advice seemed good, because I felt it so much whenever

I had to speak of them to my confessor; [6] I was also so ashamed

of myself, that I felt it more keenly at times to speak of them

than I should have done in confessing grave sins, particularly

when the graces I had to reveal were great. I thought they did

not believe me, and that they were laughing at me. I felt it so

much,—for I look