The Saint Prays to Be Directed by a Different Way.
Intellectual Visions.
1. I now resume the story of my life. I was in great pain and
distress; and many prayers, as I said, [1] were made on my
behalf, that our Lord would lead me by another and a safer way;
for this, they told me, was so suspicious. The truth is, that
though I was praying to God for this, and wished I had a desire
for another way, yet, when I saw the progress I was making, I was
unable really to desire a change,--though I always prayed for
it,--excepting on those occasions when I was extremely cast down
by what people said to me, and by the fears with which they
filled me.
2. I felt that I was wholly changed; I could do nothing but put
myself in the hands of God: He knew what was expedient for me;
let Him do with me according to His will in all things. I saw
that by this way I was directed heavenwards, and that formerly I
was going down to hell. I could not force myself to desire a
change, nor believe that I was under the influence of Satan.
Though I was doing all I could to believe the one and to desire
the other, it was not in my power to do so. I offered up all my
actions, if there should be any good in them, for this end; I had
recourse to the Saints for whom I had a devotion, that they might
deliver me from the evil one; I made novenas; I commended myself
to St. Hilarion, to the Angel St. Michael, to whom I had recently
become devout, for this purpose; and many other Saints I
importuned, that our Lord might show me the way,--I mean, that
they might obtain this for me from His Majesty.
3. At the end of two years spent in prayer by myself and others
for this end, namely, that our Lord would either lead me by
another way, or show the truth of this,--for now the locutions of
our Lord were extremely frequent,--this happened to me. I was in
prayer one day,--it was the feast of the glorious
St. Peter, [2]--when I saw Christ close by me, or, to speak more
correctly, felt Him; for I saw nothing with the eyes of the body,
nothing with the eyes of the soul. He seemed to me to be close
beside me; and I saw, too, as I believe, that it was He who was
speaking to me. As I was utterly ignorant that such a vision was
possible, [3] I was extremely afraid at first, and did nothing
but weep; however, when He spoke to me but one word to reassure
me, I recovered myself, and was, as usual, calm and comforted,
without any fear whatever. Jesus Christ seemed to be by my side
continually, and, as the vision was not imaginary, I saw no form;
but I had a most distinct feeling that He was always on my right
hand, a witness of all I did; and never at any time, if I was but
slightly recollected, or not too much distracted, could I be
ignorant of His near presence. [4]
4. I went at once to my confessor, [5] in great distress, to tell
him of it. He asked in what form I saw our Lord. I told him I
saw no form. He then said: "How did you know that it was
Christ?" I replied, that I did not know how I knew it; but I
could not help knowing that He was close beside me,--that I saw
Him distinctly, and felt His presence,--that the recollectedness
of my soul was deeper in the prayer of quiet, and more
continuous,--that the effects thereof were very different from
what I had hitherto experienced,--and that it was most certain.
I could only make comparisons in order to explain myself; and
certainly there are no comparisons, in my opinion, by which
visions of this kind can be described. Afterwards I learnt from
Friar Peter of Alcantara, a holy man of great spirituality,--of
whom I shall speak by and by, [6]--and from others of great
learning, that this vision was of the highest order, and one with
which Satan can least interfere; and therefore there are no words
whereby to explain,--at least, none for us women, who know so
little: learned men can explain it better.
5. For if I say that I see Him neither with the eyes of the body,
nor with those of the soul,--because it was not an imaginary
vision,--how is it that I can understand and maintain that He
stands beside me, and be more certain of it than if I saw Him?
If it be supposed that it is as if a person were blind, or in the
dark, and therefore unable to see another who is close to him,
the comparison is not exact. There is a certain likelihood about
it, however, but not much, because the other senses tell him who
is blind of that presence: he hears the other speak or move, or
he touches him; but in these visions there is nothing like this.
The darkness is not felt; only He renders Himself present to the
soul by a certain knowledge of Himself which is more clear than
the sun. [7] I do not mean that we now see either a sun or any
brightness, only that there is a light not seen, which illumines
the understanding so that the soul may have the fruition of so
great a good. This vision brings with it great blessings.
6. It is not like that presence of God which is frequently felt,
particularly by those who have attained to the prayer of union
and of quiet, when we seem, at the very commencement of our
prayer, to find Him with whom we would converse, and when we seem
to feel that He hears us by the effects and the spiritual
impressions of great love and faith of which we are then
conscious, as well as by the good resolutions, accompanied by
sweetness, which we then make. This is a great grace from God;
and let him to whom He has given it esteem it much, because it is
a very high degree of prayer; but it is not vision. God is
understood to be present there by the effects He works in the
soul: that is the way His Majesty makes His presence felt; but
here, in this vision, it is seen clearly that Jesus Christ is
present, the Son of the Virgin. In the prayer of union and of
quiet, certain inflowings of the Godhead are present; but in the
vision, the Sacred Humanity also, together with them, is pleased
to be our visible companion, and to do us good.
7. My confessor next asked me, who told me it was Jesus
Christ. [8] I replied that He often told me so Himself; but,
even before He told me so, there was an impression on my
understanding that it was He; and before this He used to tell me
so, and I saw Him not. If a person whom I had never seen, but of
whom I had heard, came to speak to me, and I were blind or in the
dark, and told me who he was, I should believe him; but I could
not so confidently affirm that he was that person, as I might do
if I had seen him. But in this vision I could do so, because so
clear a knowledge is impressed on the soul that all doubt seems
impossible, though He is not seen. Our Lord wills that this
knowledge be so graven on the understanding, that we can no more
question His presence than we can question that which we see with
our eyes: not so much even; for very often there arises a
suspicion that we have imagined things we think we see; but here,
though there may be a suspicion in the first instant, there
remains a certainty so great, that the doubt has no force
whatever. So also is it when God teaches the soul in another
way, and speaks to it without speaking, in the way I
have described.
8. There is so much of heaven in this language, that it cannot
well be understood on earth, though we may desire ever so much to
explain it, if our Lord will not teach it experimentally.
Our Lord impresses in the innermost soul that which He wills that
soul to understand; and He manifests it there without images or
formal words, after the manner of the vision I am speaking of.
Consider well this way in which God works, in order that the soul
may understand what He means--His great truths and mysteries; for
very often what I understand, when our Lord explains to me the
vision, which it is His Majesty's pleasure to set before me, is
after this manner; and it seems to me that this is a state with
which the devil can least interfere, for these reasons; but if
these reasons are not good, I must be under a delusion. The
vision and the language are matters of such pure spirituality,
that there is no toil of the faculties, or of the senses, out of
which--so seems to me--the devil can derive any advantage.
9. It is only at intervals, and for an instant, that this occurs;
for generally--so I think--the senses are not taken away, and the
faculties are not suspended: they preserve their ordinary state.
It is not always so in contemplation; on the contrary, it is very
rarely so; but when it is so, I say that we do nothing whatever
ourselves: no work of ours is then possible; all that is done is
apparently the work of our Lord. It is as if food had been
received into the stomach which had not first been eaten, and
without our knowing how it entered; but we do know well that it
is there, though we know not its nature, nor who it was that
placed it there. In this vision, I know who placed it; but I do
not know how He did it. I neither saw it, nor felt it; I never
had any inclination to desire it, and I never knew before that
such a thing was possible.
10. In the locutions of which I spoke before, [9] God makes the
understanding attentive, though it may be painful to understand
what is said; then the soul seems to have other ears wherewith it
hears; and He forces it to listen, and will not let it be
distracted. The soul is like a person whose hearing was good,
and who is not suffered to stop his ears, while people standing
close beside him speak to him with a loud voice. He may be
unwilling to hear, yet hear he must. Such a person contributes
something of his own; for he attends to what is said to him; but
here there is nothing of the kind: even that little, which is
nothing more than the bare act of listening, which is granted to
it in the other case, is now out of its power. It finds its food
prepared and eaten; it has nothing more to do but to enjoy it.
It is as if one without ever learning, without taking the pains
even to learn to read, and without studying any subject whatever,
should find himself in possession of all knowledge, not knowing
how or whence it came to him, seeing that he had never taken the
trouble even to learn the alphabet. This last comparison seems
to me to throw some light on this heavenly gift; for the soul
finds itself learned in a moment, and the mystery of the most
Holy Trinity so clearly revealed to it, together with other most
deep doctrines, that there is no theologian in the world with
whom it would hesitate to dispute for the truth of these matters.
11. It is impossible to describe the surprise of the soul when it
finds that one of these graces is enough to change it utterly,
and make it love nothing but Him who, without waiting for
anything itself might do, renders it fit for blessings so high,
communicates to it His secrets, and treats it with so much
affection and love. Some of the graces He bestows are liable to
suspicion because they are so marvellous, and given to one who
has deserved them so little--incredible, too, without a most
lively faith. I intend, therefore, to mention very few of those
graces which our Lord has wrought in me, if I should not be
ordered otherwise; but there are certain visions of which I shall
speak, an account of which may be of some service. In doing so,
I shall either dispel his fears to whom our Lord sends them, and
who, as I used to do, thinks them impossible, or I shall explain
the way or the road by which our Lord has led me; and that is
what I have been commanded to describe.
12. Now, going back to speak of this way of understanding, what
it is seems to me to be this: it is our Lord's will in every way
that the soul should have some knowledge of what passes in
heaven; and I think that, as the blessed there without speech
understand one another,--I never knew this for certain till our
Lord of His goodness made me see it; He showed it to me in a
trance,--so is it here: God and the soul understand one another,
merely because His Majesty so wills it, without the help of other
means, to express the love there is between them both. In the
same way on earth, two persons of sound sense, if they love each
other much, can even, without any signs, understand one another
only by their looks. It must be so here, though we do not see
how, as these two lovers earnestly regard each the other: the
bridegroom says so to the bride in the Canticle, so I believe,
and I have heard that it is spoken of there. [10]
13. Oh, marvellous goodness of God, in that Thou permittest eyes
which have looked upon so much evil as those of my soul to look
upon Thee! May they never accustom themselves, after looking on
Thee, to look upon vile things again! and may they have pleasure
in nothing but in Thee, O Lord! Oh, ingratitude of men, how far
will it go! I know by experience that what I am saying is true,
and that all we can say is exceedingly little, when we consider
what Thou doest to the soul which Thou hast led to such a state
as this. O souls, you who have begun to pray, and you who
possess the true faith, what can you be in search of even in this
life, let alone that which is for ever, that is comparable to the
least of these graces? Consider, and it is true, that God gives
Himself to those who give up everything for Him. God is not an
accepter of persons. [11] He loves all; there is no excuse for
any one, however wicked he may be, seeing that He hath thus dealt
with me, raising me to the state I am in. Consider, that what I
am saying is not even an iota of what may be said; I say only
that which is necessary to show the kind of the vision and of the
grace which God bestows on the soul; for that cannot be told
which it feels when our Lord admits it to the understanding of
His secrets and of His mighty works. The joy of this is so far
above all conceivable joys, that it may well make us loathe all
the joys of earth; for they are all but dross; and it is an
odious thing to make them enter into the comparison, even if we
might have them for ever. Those which our Lord gives, what are
they? One drop only of the waters of the overflowing river which
He is reserving for us.
14. It is a shame! And, in truth, I am ashamed of myself; if
shame could have a place in heaven, I should certainly be the
most ashamed there. Why do we seek blessings and joys so great,
bliss without end, and all at the cost of our good Jesus?
Shall we not at least weep with the daughters of Jerusalem, [12]
if we do not help to carry his cross with the Cyrenean? [13]
Is it by pleasure and idle amusements that we can attain to the
fruition of what He purchased with so much blood? It is
impossible. Can we think that we can, by preserving our honour,
which is vanity, recompense Him for the sufferings He endured,
that we might reign with Him for ever? This is not the way; we
are going by the wrong road utterly, and we shall never arrive
there. You, my father, must lift up your voice, and utter these
truths aloud, seeing that God has taken from me the power of
doing it. I should like to utter them to myself for ever.
I listened to them myself, and came to the knowledge of God so
late, as will appear by what I have written, that I am ashamed of
myself when I speak of this; and so I should like to be silent.
15. Of one thing, however, I will speak, and I think of it now
and then,--may it be the good pleasure of our Lord to bring me
on, so that I may have the fruition of it!--what will be the
accidental glory and the joy of the blessed who have entered on
it, when they see that, though they were late, yet they left
nothing undone which it was possible for them to do for God, who
kept nothing back they could give Him, and who gave what they
gave in every way they could, according to their strength and
their measure,--they who had more gave more. How rich will he be
who gave up all his riches for Christ! How honourable will he be
who, for His sake, sought no honours whatever, but rather took
pleasure in seeing himself abased! How wise he will be who
rejoiced when men accounted him as mad!--they did so of Wisdom
Itself! [14] How few there are of this kind now, because of our
sins! Now, indeed, they are all gone whom people regarded as
mad, [15] because they saw them perform heroic acts, as true
lovers of Christ.
16. O world, world! how thou art gaining credit because they are
few who know thee! But do we suppose that God is better pleased
when men account us wise and discreet persons? We think
forthwith that there is but little edification given when people
do not go about, every one in his degree, with great gravity, in
a dignified way. Even in the friar, the ecclesiastic, and the
nun, if they wear old and patched garments, we think it a
novelty, and a scandal to the weak; and even if they are very
recollected and given to prayer. Such is the state of the world,
and so forgotten are matters of perfection, and those grand
impetuosities of the Saints. More mischief, I think, is done in
this way, than by any scandal that might arise if the religious
showed in their actions, as they proclaim it in words, that the
world is to be held in contempt. Out of scandals such as this,
our Lord obtains great fruit. If some people took scandal,
others are filled with remorse: anyhow, we should have before us
some likeness of that which our Lord and His Apostles endured;
for we have need of it now more than ever.
17. And what an excellent likeness in the person of that blessed
friar, Peter of Alcantara, God has just taken from us! [16]
The world cannot bear such perfection now; it is said that men's
health is grown feebler, and that we are not now in those former
times. But this holy man lived in our day; he had a spirit
strong as those of another age, and so he trampled on the world.
If men do not go about barefooted, nor undergo sharp penances, as
he did, there are many ways, as I have said before, [17] of
trampling on the world; and our Lord teaches them when He finds
the necessary courage. How great was the courage with which His
Majesty filled the Saint I am speaking of! He did penance--oh,
how sharp it was!--for seven-and-forty years, as all men know.
I should like to speak of it, for I know it to be all true.
18. He spoke of it to me and to another person, from whom he kept
few or no secrets. As for me, it was the affection he bore me
that led him to speak; for it was our Lord's will that he should
undertake my defence, and encourage me, at a time when I was in
great straits, as I said before, and shall speak of again. [18]
He told me, I think, that for forty years he slept but an hour
and a half out of the twenty-four, and that the most laborious
penance he underwent, when he began, was this of overcoming
sleep. For that purpose, he was always either kneeling or
standing. When he slept, he sat down, his head resting against a
piece of wood driven into the wall. Lie down he could not, if he
wished it; for his cell, as every one knows, was only four feet
and a half in length. In all these years, he never covered his
head with his hood, even when the sun was hottest, or the rain
heaviest. He never covered his feet: the only garment he wore
was made of sackcloth, and that was as tight as it could be, with
nothing between it and his flesh; over this, he wore a cloak of
the same stuff. He told me that, in the severe cold, he used to
take off his cloak, and open the door and the window of his cell,
in order that when he put his cloak on again, after shutting the
door and the window, he might give some satisfaction to his body
in the pleasure it might have in the increased warmth.
His ordinary practice was to eat but once in three days. He said
to me, "Why are you astonished at it? it is very possible for any
one who is used to it." One of his companions told me that he
would be occasionally eight days without eating: that must have
been when he was in prayer; for he was subject to trances, and to
the impetuosities of the love of God, of which I was once a
witness myself.
19. His poverty was extreme; and his mortification, from his
youth, was such,--so he told me,--that he was three years in one
of the houses of his Order without knowing how to distinguish one
friar from another, otherwise than by the voice; for he never
raised his eyes: and so, when he was obliged to go from one part
of the house to the other, he never knew the way, unless he
followed the friars. His journeys, also, were made in the same
way. For many years, he never saw a woman's face. He told me
that it was nothing to him then whether he saw it or not: but he
was an aged man when I made his acquaintance; and his weakness
was so great, that he seemed like nothing else but the roots of
trees. With all his sanctity, he was very agreeable; though his
words were few, unless when he was asked questions; he was very
pleasant to speak to, for he had a most clear understanding.
20. Many other things I should like to say of him, if I were not
afraid, my father, that you will say, Why does she meddle here?
and it is in that fear I have written this. So I leave the
subject, only saying that his last end was like his
life--preaching to, and exhorting, his brethren. When he saw
that the end was comes he repeated the Psalm, [19] "Lætatus sum
in his quæ dicta sunt mihi;" and then, kneeling down, he died.
21. Since then, it has pleased our Lord that I should find more
help from him than during his life. He advises me in many
matters. I have often seen him in great glory. The first time
he appeared to me, he said: "O blessed penance, which has merited
so great a reward!" with other things. A year before his death,
he appeared to me being then far away. I knew he was about to
die, and so I sent him word to that effect, when he was some
leagues from here. When he died, he appeared to me, and said
that he was going to his rest. I did not believe it. I spoke of
it to some persons, and within eight days came the news that he
was dead--or, to speak more correctly, he had begun to live
for evermore. [20]
22. Behold here, then, how that life of sharp penance is
perfected in such great glory: and now he is a greater comfort to
me, I do believe, than he was on earth. Our Lord said to me on
one occasion, that persons could not ask Him anything in his
name, and He not hear them. I have recommended many things to
him that he was to ask of our Lord, and I have seen my petitions
granted. God be blessed for ever! Amen.
23. But how I have been talking in order to stir you up never to
esteem anything in this life!--as if you did not know this, or as
if you were not resolved to leave everything, and had already
done it! I see so much going wrong in the world, that though my
speaking of it is of no other use than to weary me by writing of
it, it is some relief to me that all I am saying makes against
myself. Our Lord forgive me all that I do amiss herein; and you
too, my father, for wearying you to no purpose. It seems as if I
would make you do penance for my sins herein.
1. Ch. xxv. § 20.
2. See ch. xxviii. § 5, and ch. xxix. § 1. The vision took
place, it seems, on the 29th June. See ch. xxix. § 6.
3. See ch. vii. § 12.
4. See Anton. a Spiritu Sancto, Direct. Mystic. tr. iii. disp. v.
§ 3.
5. See Inner Fortress, vi. 8, § 3.
6. § 17, infra.
7. See Relation, vii. § 26.
8. Inner Fortress, vi. 8, § 3.
9. Ch. xxv. § 1.
10. Cant. vi. 4: "Averte oculos tuos a me, quia ipsi me avolare
fecerunt." St. John of the Cross, Mount Carmel,
bk. ii. ch. xxix. n. 6, Engl. trans.
11. Acts x. 34: "Non est personarum acceptor Deus."
12. St. Luke xxiii. 28: "Filiæ Jerusalem, nolite flere super Me,
sed super vos ipsas flete."
13. St. Matt. xxvii. 32: "Hunc angariaverunt ut tolleret
crucem Ejus."
14. St. John x. 20: "Dæmonium habet et insanit: quid
Eum auditis?"
15. Sap. v. 4: "Nos insensati vitam illorum
æstimabamus insaniam."
16. 18th Oct. 1562. As the Saint finished the first relation of
her life in June, 1562, this is one of the additions
subsequently made.
17. Ch. xiv. § 7.
18. Ch. xxvi. § 3, ch. xxxii. § 16.
19. Psalm cxxi. The words in the MS. are: "Letatun sun yn is que
dita sun miqui" (De la Fuente).
20. See ch. xxx. § 2.