Of Certain Outward Temptations and Appearances of Satan. Of the
Sufferings Thereby Occasioned. Counsels for Those Who Go on
Unto Perfection.
1. Now that I have described certain temptations and troubles,
interior and secret, of which Satan was the cause, I will speak
of others which he wrought almost in public, and in which his
presence could not be ignored. [1]
2. I was once in an oratory, when Satan, in an abominable shape,
appeared on my left hand. I looked at his mouth in particular,
because he spoke, and it was horrible. A huge flame seemed to
issue out of his body, perfectly bright, without any shadow.
He spoke in a fearful way, and said to me that, though I had
escaped out of his hands, he would yet lay hold of me again.
I was in great terror, made the sign of the cross as well as I
could, and then the form vanished--but it reappeared instantly.
This occurred twice; I did not know what to do; there was some
holy water at hand; I took some, and threw it in the direction of
the figure, and then Satan never returned.
3. On another occasion, I was tortured for five hours with such
terrible pains, such inward and outward sufferings, that it
seemed to me as if I could not bear them. Those who were with me
were frightened; they knew not what to do, and I could not help
myself. I am in the habit, when these pains and my bodily
suffering are most unendurable, to make interior acts as well as
I can, imploring our Lord, if it be His will, to give me
patience, and then to let me suffer on, even to the end of the
world. So, when I found myself suffering so cruelly, I relieved
myself by making those acts and resolutions, in order that I
might be able to endure the pain. It pleased our Lord to let me
understand that it was the work of Satan; for I saw close beside
me a most frightful little negro, gnashing his teeth in despair
at losing what he attempted to seize. When I saw him, I laughed,
and had no fear; for there were some then present who were
helpless, and knew of no means whereby so great a pain could be
relieved. My body, head, and arms were violently shaken; I could
not help myself: but the worst of all was the interior pain, for
I could find no ease in any way. Nor did I dare to ask for holy
water, lest those who were with me should be afraid, and find out
what the matter really was.
4. I know by frequent experience that there is nothing which puts
the devils to flight like holy water. They run away before the
sign of the cross also, but they return immediately: great, then,
must be the power of holy water. As for me, my soul is conscious
of a special and most distinct consolation whenever I take it.
Indeed, I feel almost always a certain refreshing, which I cannot
describe, together with an inward joy, which comforts my whole
soul. This is no fancy, nor a thing which has occurred once
only; for it has happened very often, and I have watched it very
carefully. I may compare what I feel with that which happens to
a person in great heat, and very thirsty, drinking a cup of cold
water--his whole being is refreshed. I consider that everything
ordained by the Church is very important; and I have a joy in
reflecting that the words of the Church are so mighty, that they
endow water with power, so that there shall be so great a
difference between holy water and water that has never been
blessed. Then, as my pains did not cease, I told them, if they
would not laugh, I would ask for some holy water. They brought
me some, and sprinkled me with it; but I was no better. I then
threw some myself in the direction of the negro, when he fled in
a moment. All my sufferings ceased, just as if some one had
taken them from me with his hand; only I was wearied, as if I had
been beaten with many blows. It was of great service to me to
learn that if, by our Lord's permission, Satan can do so much
evil to a soul and body not in his power, he can do much more
when he has them in his possession. It gave me a renewed desire
to be delivered from a fellowship so dangerous.
5. Another time, and not long ago, the same thing happened to me,
though it did not last so long, and I was alone at the moment.
I asked for holy water; and they who came in after the devil had
gone away,--they were two nuns, worthy of all credit, and would
not tell a lie for anything,--perceived a most offensive smell,
like that of brimstone. I smelt nothing myself; but the odour
lasted long enough to become sensible to them.
6. On another occasion, I was in choir, when, in a moment, I
became profoundly recollected. I went out in order that the
sisters might know nothing of it; yet those who were near heard
the sound of heavy blows where I was, and I heard voices myself,
as of persons in consultation, but I did not hear what they said:
I was so absorbed in prayer that I understood nothing, neither
was I at all afraid. This took place almost always when our Lord
was pleased that some soul or other, persuaded by me, advanced in
the spiritual life. Certainly, what I am now about to describe
happened to me once; there are witnesses to testify to it,
particularly my present confessor, for he saw the account in a
letter. I did not tell him from whom the letter came, but he
knew perfectly who the person was.
7. There came to me a person who, for two years and a half, had
been living in mortal sin of the most abominable nature I ever
heard. During the whole of that time, he neither confessed it
nor ceased from it; and yet he said Mass. He confessed his other
sins but of this one he used to say, How can I confess so foul a
sin? He wished to give it up, but he could not prevail on
himself to do so. I was very sorry for him, and it was a great
grief to me to see God offended in such a way. I promised him
that I would pray to God for his amendment, and get others who
were better than I to do the same. I wrote to one person, and
the priest undertook to get the letter delivered. It came to
pass that he made a full confession at the first opportunity; for
our Lord God was pleased, on account of the prayers of those most
holy persons to whom I had recommended him, to have pity on this
soul. I, too, wretched as I am, did all I could for the
same end.
8. He wrote to me, and said that he was so far improved, that he
had not for some days repeated his sin; but he was so tormented
by the temptation, that it seemed to him as if he were in hell
already, so great were his sufferings. He asked me to pray to
God for him. I recommended him to my sisters, through whose
prayers I must have obtained this mercy from our Lord; for they
took the matter greatly to heart; and he was a person whom no one
could find out. I implored His Majesty to put an end to these
torments and temptations, and to let the evil spirits torment me
instead, provided I did not offend our Lord. Thus it was that
for one month I was most grievously tormented; and then it was
that these two assaults of Satan, of which I have just spoken,
took place.
9. Our Lord was pleased to deliver him out of this temptation, so
I was informed; for I told him what happened to myself that
month. His soul gained strength, and he continued free; he could
never give thanks enough to our Lord and to me as if I had been
of any service--unless it be that the belief he had that our Lord
granted me such graces was of some advantage to him. He said
that, when he saw himself in great straits, he would read my
letters, and then the temptation left him. He was very much
astonished at my sufferings, and at the manner of his own
deliverance: even I myself am astonished, and I would suffer as
much for many years for the deliverance of that soul. May our
Lord be praised for ever! for the prayers of those who serve Him
can do great things; and I believe the sisters of this house do
serve Him. The devils must have been more angry with me only
because I asked them to pray, and because our Lord permitted it
on account of my sins. At that time, too, I thought the evil
spirits would have suffocated me one night, and when the sisters
threw much holy water about I saw a great troop of them rush away
as if tumbling over a precipice. These cursed spirits have
tormented me so often, and I am now so little afraid of
them,--because I see they cannot stir without our Lord's
permission,--that I should weary both you, my father, and
myself, if I were to speak of these things in detail.
10. May this I have written be of use to the true servant of God,
who ought to despise these terrors, which Satan sends only to
make him afraid! Let him understand that each time we despise
those terrors, their force is lessened, and the soul gains power
over them. There is always some great good obtained; but I will
not speak of it, that I may not be too diffuse. I will speak,
however, of what happened to me once on the night of All Souls.
I was in an oratory, and, having said one Nocturn, was saying
some very devotional prayers at the end of our Breviary, when
Satan put himself on the book before me, to prevent my finishing
my prayer. I made the sign of the cross, and he went away.
I then returned to my prayer, and he, too, came back; he did so,
I believe, three times, and I was not able to finish the prayer
without throwing holy water at him. I saw certain souls at that
moment come forth out of purgatory--they must have been near
their deliverance, and I thought that Satan might in this way
have been trying to hinder their release. It is very rarely that
I saw Satan assume a bodily form; I know of his presence through
the vision I have spoken of before, [2] the vision wherein no
form is seen.
11. I wish also to relate what follows, for I was greatly alarmed
at it: on Trinity Sunday, in the choir of a certain monastery,
and in a trance, I saw a great fight between evil spirits and the
angels. I could not make out what the vision meant. In less
than a fortnight, it was explained clearly enough by the dispute
that took place between persons given to prayer and many who were
not, which did great harm to that house; for it was a dispute
that lasted long and caused much trouble. On another occasion, I
saw a great multitude of evil spirits round about me, and, at the
same time, a great light, in which I was enveloped, which kept
them from coming near me. I understood it to mean that God was
watching over me, that they might not approach me so as to make
me offend Him. I knew the vision was real by what I saw
occasionally in myself. The fact is, I know now how little power
the evil spirits have, provided I am not out of the grace of God;
I have scarcely any fear of them at all, for their strength is as
nothing, if they do not find the souls they assail give up the
contest, and become cowards; it is in this case that they show
their power.
12. Now and then, during the temptations I am speaking of, it
seemed to me as if all my vanity and weakness in times past had
become alive again within me; so I had reason enough to commit
myself into the hands of God. Then I was tormented by the
thought that, as these things came back to my memory, I must be
utterly in the power of Satan, until my confessor consoled me;
for I imagined that even the first movement towards an evil
thought ought not to have come near one who had received from our
Lord such great graces as I had.
13. At other times, I was much tormented--and even now I am
tormented--when I saw people make much of me, particularly great
people, and when they spake well of me. I have suffered, and
still suffer, much in this way. I think at once of the life of
Christ and of the Saints, and then my life seems the reverse of
theirs, for they received nothing but contempt and ill-treatment.
All this makes me afraid; I dare not lift up my head, and I wish
nobody saw me at all. It is not thus with me when I am
persecuted; then my soul is so conscious of strength, though the
body suffers, and though I am in other ways afflicted, that I do
not know how this can be; but so it is,--and my soul seems then
to be a queen in its kingdom, having everything under its feet.
14. I had such a thought now and then--and, indeed, for many days
together. I regarded it as a sign of virtue and of humility; but
I see clearly now it was nothing else but a temptation.
A Dominican friar, of great learning, showed it to me very
plainly. When I considered that the graces which our Lord had
bestowed upon me might come to the knowledge of the public, my
sufferings became so excessive as greatly to disturb my soul.
They went so far, that I made up my mind, while thinking of it,
that I would rather be buried alive than have these things known.
And so, when I began to be profoundly recollected, or to fall
into a trance, which I could not resist even in public, I was so
ashamed of myself, that I would not appear where people might
see me.
15. Once, when I was much distressed at this, our Lord said to
me, What was I afraid of? one of two things must happen--people
would either speak ill of me, or give glory to Him. He made me
understand by this, that those who believed in the truth of what
was going on in me would glorify Him; and that those who did not
would condemn me without cause: in both ways I should be the
gainer, and I was therefore not to distress myself. [3] This
made me quite calm, and it comforts me whenever I think of it.
16. This temptation became so excessive, that I wished to leave
the house, and take my dower to another monastery, where
enclosure was more strictly observed than in that wherein I was
at this time. I had heard great things of that other house,
which was of the same Order as mine; it was also at a great
distance, and it would have been a great consolation to me to
live where I was not known; but my confessor would never let me
go. These fears deprived me in a great measure of all liberty of
spirit; and I understood afterwards that this was not true
humility, because it disturbed me so much. And our Lord taught
me this truth; if I was convinced, and certainly persuaded, that
all that was good in me came wholly and only from God, and if it
did not distress me to hear the praises of others,--yea, rather,
if I was pleased and comforted when I saw that God was working in
them,--then neither should I be distressed if He showed forth His
works in me.
17. I fell, too, into another extreme. I begged of God, and made
it a particular subject of prayer, that it might please His
Majesty, whenever any one saw any good in me, that such a one
might also become acquainted with my sins, in order that he might
see that His graces were bestowed on me without any merit on my
part: and I always greatly desire this. My confessor told me not
to do it. But almost to this day, if I saw that any one thought
well of me, I used in a roundabout way, or any how, as I could,
to contrive he should know of my sins: [4] that seemed to relieve
me. But they have made me very scrupulous on this point.
This, it appears to me, was not an effect of humility, but
oftentimes the result of temptation. It seemed to me that I was
deceiving everybody--though, in truth, they deceived themselves,
by thinking that there was any good in me. [5] I did not wish to
deceive them, nor did I ever attempt it, only our Lord permitted
it for some end; and so, even with my confessors, I never
discussed any of these matters if I did not see the necessity of
it, for that would have occasioned very considerable scruples.
18. All these little fears and distresses, and semblance of
humility, I now see clearly were mere imperfections, and the
result of my unmortified life; for a soul left in the hands of
God cares nothing about evil or good report, if it clearly
comprehends, when our Lord is pleased to bestow upon it His
grace, that it has nothing of its own. Let it trust the Giver;
it will know hereafter why He reveals His gifts, and prepare
itself for persecution, which in these times is sure to come,
when it is our Lord's will it should be known of any one that He
bestows upon him graces such as these; for a thousand eyes are
watching that soul, while a thousand souls of another order are
observed of none. In truth, there was no little ground for fear,
and that fear should have been mine: I was therefore not humble,
but a coward; for a soul which God permits to be thus seen of men
may well prepare itself to be the world's martyr--because, if it
will not die to the world voluntarily, that very world will
kill it.
19. Certainly, I see nothing in the world that seems to me good
except this, that it tolerates no faults in good people, and
helps them to perfection by dint of complaints against them.
I mean, that it requires greater courage in one not yet perfect
to walk in the way of perfection than to undergo an instant
martyrdom; for perfection is not attained to at once, unless our
Lord grant that grace by a special privilege: yet the world, when
it sees any one beginning to travel on that road, insists on his
becoming perfect at once, and a thousand leagues off detects in
him a fault, which after all may be a virtue. He who finds fault
is doing the very same thing,--but, in his own case,
viciously,--and he pronounces it to be so wrong in the other.
He who aims at perfection, then, must neither eat nor
sleep,--nor, as they say, even breathe; and the more men respect
such a one, the more do they forget that he is still in the body;
and, though they may consider him perfect, he is living on the
earth, subject to its miseries, however much he may tread them
under his feet. And so, as I have just said, great courage is
necessary here for, though the poor soul have not yet begun to
walk, the world will have it fly; and, though its passions be not
wholly overcome, men will have it that they must be under
restraint, even upon trying occasions, as those of the Saints
are, of whom they read, after they are confirmed in grace.
20. All this is a reason for praising God, and also for great
sorrow of heart, because very many go backwards who, poor souls,
know not how to help themselves; and I too, I believe, would have
gone back also, if our Lord had not so mercifully on His part
done everything for me. And until He, of His goodness, had done
all, nothing was done by me, as you, my father, may have seen
already, beyond falling and rising again. I wish I knew how to
explain it, because many souls, I believe, delude themselves in
this matter; they would fly before God gives them wings.
21. I believe I have made this comparison on another
occasion, [6] but it is to the purpose here, for I see certain
souls are very greatly afflicted on that ground. When these
souls begin, with great fervour, courage, and desire, to advance
in virtue,--some of them, at least outwardly, giving up all for
God,--when they see in others, more advanced than themselves,
greater fruits of virtue given them by our Lord,--for we cannot
acquire these of ourselves,--when they see in all the books
written on prayer and on contemplation an account of what we have
to do in order to attain thereto, but which they cannot
accomplish themselves,--they lose heart. For instance, they read
that we must not be troubled when men speak ill of us, that we
are to be then more pleased than when they speak well of us; that
we must despise our own good name, be detached from our kindred;
avoid their company, which should be wearisome to us, unless they
be given to prayer; with many other things of the same kind.
The disposition to practise this must be, in my opinion, the gift
of God; for it seems to me a supernatural good, contrary to our
natural inclinations. Let them not distress themselves; let them
trust in our Lord: what they now desire, His Majesty will enable
them to attain to by prayer, and by doing what they can
themselves; for it is very necessary for our weak nature that we
should have great confidence, that we should not be fainthearted,
nor suppose that, if we do our best, we shall fail to obtain the
victory at last. And as my experience here is large, I will say,
by way of caution to you, my father, do not think--though it may
seem so--that a virtue is acquired when we have not tested it by
its opposing vice: we must always be suspicious of ourselves, and
never negligent while we live; for much evil clings to us if, as
I said before, [7] grace be not given to us fully to understand
what everything is: and in this life there is nothing without
great risks.
22. I thought a few years ago, not only that I was detached from
my kindred, but that they were a burden to me; and certainly it
was so, for I could not endure their conversation. An affair of
some importance had to be settled, and I had to remain with a
sister of mine, for whom I had always before had a great
affection. The conversation we had together, though she is
better than I am, did not please me; for it could not always be
on subjects I preferred, owing to the difference of our
conditions--she being married. I was therefore as much alone as
I could; yet I felt that her troubles gave me more trouble than
did those of my neighbours, and even some anxiety. In short, I
found out that I was not so detached as I thought, and that it
was necessary for me to flee from dangerous occasions, in order
that the virtue which our Lord had begun to implant in me might
grow; and so, by His help, I have striven to do from that time
till now.
23. If our Lord bestows any virtue upon us, we must make much of
it, and by no means run the risk of losing it; so it is in those
things which concern our good name, and many other matters.
You, my father, must believe that we are not all of us detached,
though we think we are; it is necessary for us never to be
careless on this point. If any one detects in himself any
tenderness about his good name, and yet wishes to advance in the
spiritual life, let him believe me and throw this embarrassment
behind his back, for it is a chain which no file can sever; only
the help of God, obtained by prayer and much striving on his
part, can do it. It seems to me to be a hindrance on the road,
and I am astonished at the harm it does. I see some persons so
holy in their works, and they are so great as to fill people with
wonder. O my God, why is their soul still on the earth? Why has
it not arrived at the summit of perfection? What does it mean?
What keeps him back who does so much for God? Oh, there it
is!--self-respect! and the worst of it is, that these persons
will not admit that they have it, merely because Satan now and
then convinces them that they are under an obligation to
observe it.
24. Well, then, let them believe me: for the love of our Lord,
let them give heed to the little ant, who speaks because it is
His pleasure. If they take not this caterpillar away, though it
does not hurt the whole tree, because some virtues remain, the
worm will eat into every one of them. Not only is the tree not
beautiful, but it also never thrives, neither does it suffer the
others near it to thrive; for the fruit of good example which it
bears is not sound, and endures but a short time. I say it again
and again, let our self-respect be ever so slight, it will have
the same result as the missing of a note on the organ when it is
played,--the whole music is out of tune. It is a thing which
hurts the soul exceedingly in every way, but it is a pestilence
in the way of prayer.
25. Are we striving after union with God? and do we wish to
follow the counsels of Christ,--who was loaded with reproaches
and falsely accused,--and, at the same time, to keep our own
reputation and credit untouched? We cannot succeed, for these
things are inconsistent one with another. Our Lord comes to the
soul when we do violence to ourselves, and strive to give up our
rights in many things. Some will say, I have nothing that I can
give up, nor have I any opportunity of doing so. I believe that
our Lord will never suffer any one who has made so good a
resolution as this to miss so great a blessing. His Majesty will
make so many arrangements for him, whereby he may acquire this
virtue,--more frequently, perhaps, than he will like. Let him
put his hand to the work. I speak of the little nothings and
trifles which I gave up when I began--or, at least, of some of
them: the straws which I said [8] I threw into the fire; for I am
not able to do more. All this our Lord accepted: may He be
blessed for evermore!
26. One of my faults was this: I had a very imperfect knowledge
of my Breviary and of my duties in choir, simply because I was
careless and given to vanities; and I knew the other novices
could have taught me. But I never asked them, that they might
not know how little I knew. It suggested itself to me at once,
that I ought to set a good example: this is very common.
Now, however, that God has opened my eyes a little, even when I
know a thing, but yet am very slightly in doubt about it, I ask
the children. I have lost neither honour nor credit by it--on
the contrary, I believe our Lord has been pleased to strengthen
my memory. My singing of the Office was bad, and I felt it much
if I had not learned the part intrusted to me,--not because I
made mistakes before our Lord, which would have been a virtue,
but because I made them before the many nuns who heard me. I was
so full of my own reputation, that I was disturbed, and therefore
did not sing what I had to sing even so well as I might have
done. Afterwards, I ventured, when I did not know it very well,
to say so. At first, I felt it very much; but afterwards I found
pleasure in doing it. So, when I began to be indifferent about
its being known that I could not sing well, it gave me no pain at
all, and I sang much better. This miserable self-esteem took
from me the power of doing that which I regarded as an honour,
for every one regards as honourable that which he likes.
27. By trifles such as these, which are nothing,--and I am
altogether nothing myself, seeing that this gave me pain,--by
little and little, doing such actions, and by such slight
performances,--they become of worth because done for God,--His
Majesty helps us on towards greater things; and so it happened to
me in the matter of humility. When I saw that all the nuns
except myself were making great progress,--I was always myself
good for nothing,--I used to fold up their mantles when they left
the choir. I looked on myself as doing service to angels who had
been there praising God. I did so till they--I know not
how--found it out; and then I was not a little ashamed, because
my virtue was not strong enough to bear that they should know of
it. But the shame arose, not because I was humble, but because I
was afraid they would laugh at me, the matter being so trifling.
28. O Lord, what a shame for me to lay bare so much wickedness,
and to number these grains of sand, which yet I did not raise up
from the ground in Thy service without mixing them with a
thousand meannesses! The waters of Thy grace were not as yet
flowing beneath them, so as to make them ascend upwards. O my
Creator, oh, that I had anything worth recounting amid so many
evil things, when I am recounting the great mercies I received at
Thy hands! So it is, O my Lord. I know not how my heart could
have borne it, nor how any one who shall read this can help
having me in abhorrence when he sees that mercies so great had
been so ill-requited, and that I have not been ashamed to speak
of these services. Ah! they are only mine, O my Lord; but I am
ashamed I have nothing else to say of myself; and that it is that
makes me speak of these wretched beginnings, in order that he who
has begun more nobly may have hope that our Lord, who has made
much of mine, will make more of his. May it please His Majesty
to give me this grace, that I may not remain for ever at the
beginning! Amen. [9]
1. 2 Cor. ii. 11: "Non enim ignoramus cogitationes ejus."
2. Ch. xxvii. § 4.
3. See Inner Fortress, vi. ch. iv. § 12.
4. Way of Perfection, ch. lxv. § 2; but ch. xxxvi. of the
previous editions.
5. See ch. x. § 10.
6. Ch. xiii. § 3.
7. Ch. xx. § 38.
8. Ch. xxx. § 25.
9. Don Vicente de la Fuente thinks the first "Life" ended here;
that which follows was written under obedience to her confessor,
F. Garcia of Toledo, and after the foundation of the monastery of
St. Joseph, Avila.