Life of St Teresa of Jesus by Teresa of Avila (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📖

had some cousins; for into my father’s house no others were

allowed an entrance. In this he was very cautious; and would to

God he had been cautious about them!—for I see now the danger of

conversing, at an age when virtue should begin to grow, with

persons who, knowing nothing themselves of the vanity of the

world, provoke others to throw themselves into the midst of it.

These cousins were nearly of mine own age—a little older,

perhaps. We were always together; and they had a great affection

for me. In everything that gave them pleasure, I kept the

conversation alive,—listened to the stories of their affections

and childish follies, good for nothing; and, what was still

worse, my soul began to give itself up to that which was the

cause of all its disorders. If I were to give advice, I would

say to parents that they ought to be very careful whom they allow

to mix with their children when young; for much mischief thence

ensues, and our natural inclinations are unto evil rather than

unto good.

4. So it was with me; for I had a sister much older than

myself, [2] from whose modesty and goodness, which were great, I

learned nothing; and learned every evil from a relative who was

often in the house. She was so light and frivolous, that my

mother took great pains to keep her out of the house, as if she

foresaw the evil I should learn from her; but she could not

succeed, there being so many reasons for her coming. I was very

fond of this person’s company, gossiped and talked with her; for

she helped me in all the amusements I liked, and, what is more,

found some for me, and communicated to me her own conversations

and her vanities. Until I knew her, I mean, until she became

friendly with me, and communicated to me her own affairs—I was

then about fourteen years old, a little more, I think—I do not

believe that I turned away from God in mortal sin, or lost the

fear of Him, though I had a greater fear of disgrace.

This latter fear had such sway over me, that I never wholly

forfeited my good name—and, as to that, there was nothing in the

world for which I would have bartered it, and nobody in the world

I liked well enough who could have persuaded me to do it. Thus I

might have had the strength never to do anything against the

honour of God, as I had it by nature not to fail in that wherein

I thought the honour of the world consisted; and I never observed

that I was failing in many other ways. In vainly seeking after

it I was extremely careful; but in the use of the means necessary

for preserving it I was utterly careless. I was anxious only not

to be lost altogether.

5. This friendship distressed my father and sister exceedingly.

They often blamed me for it; but, as they could not hinder that

person from coming into the house, all their efforts were in

vain; for I was very adroit in doing anything that was wrong.

Now and then, I am amazed at the evil one bad companion can

do,—nor could I believe it if I did not know it by

experience,—especially when we are young: then is it that the

evil must be greatest. Oh, that parents would take warning by

me, and look carefully to this! So it was; the conversation of

this person so changed me, that no trace was left of my soul’s

natural disposition to virtue, and I became a reflection of her

and of another who was given to the same kind of amusements.

6. I know from this the great advantage of good companions; and I

am certain that if at that tender age I had been thrown among

good people, I should have persevered in virtue; for if at that

time I had found any one to teach me the fear of God, my soul

would have grown strong enough not to fall away. Afterwards, when

the fear of God had utterly departed from me, the fear of

dishonour alone remained, and was a torment to me in all I did.

When I thought that nobody would ever know, I ventured upon many

things that were neither honourable nor pleasing unto God.

7. In the beginning, these conversations did me harm—I believe

so. The fault was perhaps not hers, but mine; for afterwards my

own wickedness was enough to lead me astray, together with the

servants about me, whom I found ready enough for all evil.

If any one of these had given me good advice, I might perhaps

have profited by it; but they were blinded by interest, as I was

by passion. Still, I was never inclined to much evil,—for I

hated naturally anything dishonourable,—but only to the

amusement of a pleasant conversation. The occasion of sin,

however, being present, danger was at hand, and I exposed to it

my father and brothers. God delivered me out of it all, so that

I should not be lost, in a manner visibly against my will, yet

not so secretly as to allow me to escape without the loss of my

good name and the suspicions of my father.

8. I had not spent, I think, three months in these vanities, when

they took me to a monastery [3] in the city where I lived, in

which children like myself were brought up, though their way of

life was not so wicked as mine. This was done with the utmost

concealment of the true reason, which was known only to myself

and one of my kindred. They waited for an opportunity which

would make the change seem nothing out of the way; for, as my

sister was married, it was not fitting I should remain alone,

without a mother, in the house.

9. So excessive was my father’s love for me, and so deep my

dissembling, that he never would believe me to be so wicked as I

was; and hence I was never in disgrace with him. Though some

remarks were made, yet, as the time had been short, nothing could

be positively asserted; and, as I was so much afraid about my

good name, I had taken every care to be secret; and yet I never

considered that I could conceal nothing from Him Who seeth all

things. O my God, what evil is done in the world by disregarding

this, and thinking that anything can be kept secret that is done

against Thee! I am quite certain that great evils would be

avoided if we clearly understood that what we have to do is, not

to be on our guard against men, but on our guard against

displeasing Thee.

10. For the first eight days, I suffered much; but more from the

suspicion that my vanity was known, than from being in the

monastery; for I was already weary of myself—and, though I

offended God, I never ceased to have a great fear of Him, and

contrived to go to confession as quickly as I could. I was very

uncomfortable; but within eight days, I think sooner, I was much

more contented than I had been in my father’s house. All the

nuns were pleased with me; for our Lord had given me the grace to

please every one, wherever I might be. I was therefore made much

of in the monastery. Though at this time I hated to be a nun,

yet I was delighted at the sight of nuns so good; for they were

very good in that house—very prudent, observant of the rule,

and recollected.

11. Yet, for all this, the devil did not cease to tempt me; and

people in the world sought means to trouble my rest with messages

and presents. As this could not be allowed, it was soon over,

and my soul began to return to the good habits of my earlier

years; and I recognized the great mercy of God to those whom He

places among good people. It seems as if His Majesty had sought

and sought again how to convert me to Himself. Blessed be Thou,

O Lord, for having borne with me so long! Amen.

12. Were it not for my many faults, there was some excuse for me,

I think, in this: that the conversation I shared in was with one

who, I thought, would do well in the estate of matrimony; [4] and

I was told by my confessors, and others also, whom in many points

I consulted, used to say, that I was not offending God. One of

the nuns [5] slept with us who were seculars, and through her it

pleased our Lord to give me light, as I shall now explain.

1. The Saint throughout her life was extremely careful of

cleanliness. In one of her letters to Father Jerome Gratian of

the Mother of God (No. 323, Letter 28, vol. iii. ed. Doblado),

she begs him, for the love of God, to see that the Fathers had

clean cells and table; and the Ven. Mother Anne of

St. Bartholomew, in her life (Bruxelles, 1708, p. 40), says that

she changed the Saint’s linen on the day of her death, and was

thanked by her for her carefulness. “Her soul was so pure,” says

the Ven. Mother, “that she could not bear anything that was

not clean.”

2. Maria de Cepeda, half-sister of the Saint. She was married to

Don Martin de Guzman y Barrientos; and the contract for the dowry

was signed January 11, 1531 (Reforma de los Descalços

lib. i. ch. vii. § 4).

3. The Augustinian Monastery of Our Lady of Grace. It was

founded in 1509 by the venerable Fra Juan of Seville,

Vicar-General of the Order (Reforma de los Descalços

lib. i. ch. vii. n. 2). There were forty nuns in the house at

this time (De la Fuente).

4. Some have said that the Saint at this time intended, or

wished, to be married; and Father Bouix translates the passage

thus: “une alliance honorable pour moi.” But it is more probable

that the Saint had listened only to the story of her cousin’s

intended marriage; for in ch. v. § 11, she says that our Lord had

always kept her from seeking to be loved of men.

5. Doña Maria Brizeño, mistress of the secular children who were

educated in the monastery (Reforma, lib. i. ch. vii. § 3).

Chapter III.

The Blessing of Being with Good People. How Certain Illusions

Were Removed.

1. I began gradually to like the good and holy conversation of

this nun. How well she used to speak of God! for she was a

person of great discretion and sanctity. I listened to her with

delight. I think there never was a time when I was not glad to

listen to her. She began by telling me how she came to be a nun

through the mere reading of the words of the Gospel “Many are

called, and few are chosen.” [1] She would speak of the reward

which our Lord gives to those who forsake all things for His

sake. This good companionship began to root out the habits which

bad companionship had formed, and to bring my thoughts back to

the desire of eternal things, as well as to banish in some

measure the great dislike I had to be a nun, which had been very

great; and if I saw any one weep in prayer, or devout in any

other way, I envied her very much; for my heart