I had a father and a mother who both feared God. My father had his chief
delight in the reading of good books, and he did his best to give his
children the same happy taste. This also helped me much, that I never
saw my father or my mother regard anything but goodness. Though
possessing very great beauty in her youth, my mother was never known to
set any store by it. Her apparel, even in her early married life, was
that of a woman no longer young. Her life was a life of suffering, her
death was most Christian. After my mother's removal, I began to think
too much about my dress and my appearance, and I pursued many such like
things that I was never properly warned against, full of mischief though
they were both to myself and to others. I too early learned every evil
from an immoral relative. I was very fond of this woman's company. I
gossiped and talked with her continually. She assisted me to all the
amusements I loved; and, what was worse, she found some very evil
amusements for me, and in every way communicated to me her own vanities
and mischiefs. I am amazed to think on the evil that one bad companion
can do; nor could I have believed it, unless I had known it by
experience. The company and the conversation of this one woman so
changed me that scarcely any trace was left in me of my natural
disposition to virtue. I became a perfect reflection of her and of
another who was as bad as she was.
For my education and protection my father sent me to the Augustinian
Monastery, in which children like myself were brought up. There was a
good woman in that religious house, and I began gradually to love her.
How impressively she used to speak to me of God! She was a woman of the
greatest good sense and sanctity. She told me how she first came to
herself by the mere reading of these words of the Gospel, 'Many are
called and few chosen.' This good companionship began to root out the
bad habits I had brought to that house with me; but my heart had by that
time become so hard that I never shed a tear, no, not though I read the
whole Passion through. When at last I entered the Religious House of the
Incarnation for life, our Lord at once made me understand how He helps
those who do any violence to themselves in order to serve Him. No one
observed this violence in me. They saw nothing in me but the greatest
goodwill. At that sore step I was filled with a joy so great that it has
never wholly left me to this day. God converted the dryness of my soul
into the greatest tenderness, immediately on my taking up that cross.
Everything in religion was now a real delight to me. I had more pleasure
now in sweeping the house than I had in all the balls and dances I had
forsaken for His sake. Whenever I remember those early days, it makes me
ready to take up any cross whatsoever. For I know now by a long and a
various experience that His Majesty richly rewards even in this life all
the self-denial that we do for His sake and service. I know this by many
experiences; and if I were a person who had to advise and guide God's
people, I would urge them to fear no difficulty whatsoever in the path of
duty: for our God is omnipotent, and He is on our side. May He be
blessed for ever! Amen.
O my supreme Good and my true Rest, I know not how to go on when I call
those happy days to mind, and think of all my evil life since then! My
tears ought to be tears of blood. My heart ought to break. But Thou,
Lord, hast borne with me for almost twenty years, till I have had time to
improve. And all that it might be better known to me who Thou art and
what I am. Woe is me, my Maker! I have no excuse, I have only blame.
Let Thy mercy, O Lord, rest on me. Other women there have been who have
done great deeds in Thy service, but I am good only to talk: all my
goodness ends in so many words: that is all my service of Thee, my God.
Cost me what it may, let me not go on coming to Thee with idle words and
empty hands, seeing that the reward of every one will be according to his
works. Depart not from me, and I can do all things. Depart from me, and
I shall return to whence I was taken, even to hell.
One of the reasons that move me, who am what I am, to write all this even
under obedience, and to give an account of my wretched life, and of the
graces the Lord hath wrought in me is this,--and would that I were a
person of authority, and then people would perhaps believe what I say.
This then is what I would say and repeat continually if any one would
hear me. Let no one ever say: If I fall into sin, I cannot then pray. In
this the devil turned his most dreadful batteries against me. He said to
me that it showed very little shame in me if I could have the face to
pray, who had just been so wicked. And under that snare of Satan I
actually as good as gave up all prayer for a year and a half. This was
nothing else but to throw myself straight down into hell. O my God, was
there ever such madness as mine! Where could I think to find either
pardon for the past, or power for the time to come, but from Thee? What
folly to the stumbler to run away from the light! Let all those who
would give themselves to prayer, and to a holy life, look well to this.
They should know that when I was shunning prayer because I was so bad, my
badness became more abandoned than ever it had been before. Rely on the
waiting and abounding goodness of God, which is infinitely greater than
all the evil you can do. When we acknowledge our vileness, He remembers
it no more. I grew weary of sinning before God grew weary of forgiving
my sin. He is never weary of giving grace, nor are his compassions to be
exhausted. May He be blessed for ever, amen: and may all created things
praise Him!
I have made a vow--[it is known as 'the Teresian vow,' 'the seraphic
vow,' 'the most arduous of vows,' 'a vow yet unexampled in the Church'],
a vow never to offend God in the very least matter. I have vowed that I
would rather die a thousand deaths than do anything of that kind, knowing
I was doing it. I am resolved also, never to leave anything whatsoever
undone that I consider to be still more perfect, and more for the honour
of our Lord. Cost me what pain it may, I would not leave such an act
undone for all the treasures of the world. If I were to do so, I do not
think I could have the face to ask anything of God in prayer: and yet,
for all that, I have many faults and imperfections remaining in me to
this day.