Our Lord Shows St. Teresa the Place Which She Had by Her Sins
Deserved in Hell. The Torments There. How the Monastery
of St. Joseph Was Founded.
1. Some considerable time after our Lord had bestowed upon me the
graces I have been describing, and others also of a higher
nature, I was one day in prayer when I found myself in a moment,
without knowing how, plunged apparently into hell. I understood
that it was our Lord's will I should see the place which the
devils kept in readiness for me, and which I had deserved by my
sins. It was but a moment, but it seems to me impossible I
should ever forget it even if I were to live many years.
2. The entrance seemed to be by a long narrow pass, like a
furnace, very low, dark, and close. The ground seemed to be
saturated with water, mere mud, exceedingly foul, sending forth
pestilential odours, and covered with loathsome vermin. At the
end was a hollow place in the wall, like a closet, and in that I
saw myself confined. All this was even pleasant to behold in
comparison with what I felt there. There is no exaggeration in
what I am saying.
3. But as to what I then felt, I do not know where to begin, if I
were to describe it; it is utterly inexplicable. I felt a fire
in my soul. I cannot see how it is possible to describe it.
My bodily sufferings were unendurable. I have undergone most
painful sufferings in this life, and, as the physicians say, the
greatest that can be borne, such as the contraction of my sinews
when I was paralysed, [1] without speaking of others of different
kinds, yea, even those of which I have also spoken, [2] inflicted
on me by Satan; yet all these were as nothing in comparison with
what I felt then, especially when I saw that there would be no
intermission, nor any end to them.
4. These sufferings were nothing in comparison with the anguish
of my soul, a sense of oppression, of stifling, and of pain so
keen, accompanied by so hopeless and cruel an infliction, that I
know not how to speak of it. If I said that the soul is
continually being torn from the body, it would be nothing, for
that implies the destruction of life by the hands of another but
here it is the soul itself that is tearing itself in pieces.
I cannot describe that inward fire or that despair, surpassing
all torments and all pain. I did not see who it was that
tormented me, but I felt myself on fire, and torn to pieces, as
it seemed to me; and, I repeat it, this inward fire and despair
are the greatest torments of all.
5. Left in that pestilential place, and utterly without the power
to hope for comfort, I could neither sit nor lie down: there was
no room. I was placed as it were in a hole in the wall; and
those walls, terrible to look on of themselves, hemmed me in on
every side. I could not breathe. There was no light, but all
was thick darkness. I do not understand how it is; though there
was no light, yet everything that can give pain by being seen
was visible.
6. Our Lord at that time would not let me see more of hell.
Afterwards, I had another most fearful vision, in which I saw the
punishment of certain sins. They were most horrible to look at;
but, because I felt none of the pain, my terror was not so great.
In the former vision, our Lord made me really feel those
torments, and that anguish of spirit, just as if I had been
suffering them in the body there. I know not how it was, but I
understood distinctly that it was a great mercy that our Lord
would have me see with mine own eyes the very place from which
His compassion saved me. I have listened to people speaking of
these things, and I have at other times dwelt on the various
torments of hell, though not often, because my soul made no
progress by the way of fear; and I have read of the diverse
tortures, and how the devils tear the flesh with red-hot pincers.
But all is as nothing before this; it is a wholly different
matter. In short, the one is a reality, the other a picture; and
all burning here in this life is as nothing in comparison with
the fire that is there.
7. I was so terrified by that vision,--and that terror is on me
even now while I am writing,--that, though it took place nearly
six years ago, [3] the natural warmth of my body is chilled by
fear even now when I think of it. And so, amid all the pain and
suffering which I may have had to bear, I remember no time in
which I do not think that all we have to suffer in this world is
as nothing. It seems to me that we complain without reason.
I repeat it, this vision was one of the grandest mercies of our
Lord. It has been to me of the greatest service, because it has
destroyed my fear of trouble and of the contradiction of the
world, and because it has made me strong enough to bear up
against them, and to give thanks to our Lord, who has been my
Deliverer, as it now seems to me, from such fearful and
everlasting pains.
8. Ever since that time, as I was saying, everything seems
endurable in comparison with one instant of suffering such as
those I had then to bear in hell. I am filled with fear when I
see that, after frequently reading books which describe in some
manner the pains of hell, I was not afraid of them, nor made any
account of them. Where was I? How could I possibly take any
pleasure in those things which led me directly to so dreadful a
place? Blessed for ever be Thou, O my God! and, oh, how manifest
is it that Thou didst love me much more than I did love Thee!
How often, O Lord, didst Thou save me from that fearful prison!
and how I used to get back to it contrary to Thy will.
9. It was that vision that filled me with the very great distress
which I feel at the sight of so many lost souls,--especially of
the Lutherans,--for they were once members of the Church by
baptism,--and also gave me the most vehement desires for the
salvation of souls; for certainly I believe that, to save even
one from those overwhelming torments, I would most willingly
endure many deaths. If here on earth we see one whom we
specially love in great trouble or pain, our very nature seems to
bid us compassionate him; and if those pains be great, we are
troubled ourselves. What, then, must it be to see a soul in
danger of pain, the most grievous of all pains, for ever?
Who can endure it? It is a thought no heart can bear without
great anguish. Here we know that pain ends with life at last,
and that there are limits to it; yet the sight of it moves our
compassion so greatly. That other pain has no ending; and I know
not how we can be calm, when we see Satan carry so many souls
daily away.
10. This also makes me wish that, in a matter which concerns us
so much, we did not rest satisfied with doing less than we can do
on our part,--that we left nothing undone. May our Lord
vouchsafe to give us His grace for that end! When I consider
that, notwithstanding my very great wickedness, I took some pains
to please God, and abstained from certain things which I know the
world makes light of,--that, in short, I suffered grievous
infirmities, and with great patience, which our Lord gave me;
that I was not inclined to murmur or to speak ill of anybody;
that I could not--I believe so--wish harm to any one; that I was
not, to the best of my recollection, either avaricious or
envious, so as to be grievously offensive in the sight of God;
and that I was free from many other faults,--for, though so
wicked, I had lived constantly in the fear of God,--I had to look
at the very place which the devils kept ready for me. It is true
that, considering my faults, I had deserved a still heavier
chastisement; but for all that, I repeat it, the torment was
fearful, and we run a great risk whenever we please ourselves.
No soul should take either rest or pleasure that is liable to
fall every moment into mortal sin. Let us, then, for the love of
God, avoid all occasions of sin, and our Lord will help us, as He
has helped me. May it please His Majesty never to let me out of
His hands, lest I should turn back and fall, now that I have seen
the place where I must dwell if I do. I entreat our Lord, for
His Majesty's sake, never to permit it. Amen.
11. When I had seen this vision, and had learned other great and
hidden things which our Lord, of His goodness, was pleased to
show me,--namely, the joy of the blessed and the torment of the
wicked,--I longed for the way and the means of doing penance for
the great evil I had done, and of meriting in some degree, so
that I might gain so great a good; and therefore I wished to
avoid all society, and to withdraw myself utterly from the world.
I was in spirit restless, yet my restlessness was not harassing,
but rather pleasant. I saw clearly that it was the work of God,
and that His Majesty had furnished my soul with fervour, so that
I might be able to digest other and stronger food than I had been
accustomed to eat. I tried to think what I could do for God, and
thought that the first thing was to follow my vocation to a
religious life, which His Majesty had given me, by keeping my
rule in the greatest perfection possible.
12. Though in that house in which I then lived there were many
servants of God, and God was greatly served therein, yet, because
it was very poor, the nuns left it very often and went to other
places, where, however, we could serve God in all honour and
observances of religion. The rule also was kept, not in its
original exactness, but according to the custom of the whole
Order, authorised by the Bull of Mitigation. There were other
inconveniences also: we had too many comforts, as it seemed to
me; for the house was large and pleasant. But this inconvenience
of going out, though it was I that took most advantage of it, was
a very grievous one for me; for many persons, to whom my
superiors could not say no, were glad to have me with them.
My superiors, thus importuned, commanded me to visit these
persons; and thus it was so arranged that I could not be long
together in the monastery. Satan, too, must have had a share in
this, in order that I might not be in the house, where I was of
great service to those of my sisters to whom I continually
communicated the instructions which I received from
my confessors.
13. It occurred once to a person with whom I was speaking to say
to me and the others that it was possible to find means for the
foundation of a monastery, if we were prepared to become nuns
like those of the Barefooted Orders. [4] I, having this desire,
began to discuss the matter with that widowed lady who was my
companion,--I have spoken of her before, [5]--and she had the
same wish that I had. She began to consider how to provide a
revenue for the home. I see now that this was not the way,--only
the wish we had to do so made us think it was; but I, on the
other hand, seeing that I took the greatest delight in the house
in which I was then living, because it was very pleasant to me,
and, in my own cell, most convenient for my purpose, still held
back. Nevertheless, we agreed to commit the matter with all
earnestness to God.
14. One day, after Communion, our Lord commanded me to labour
with all my might for this end. He made me great promises,--that
the monastery would be certainly built; that He would take great
delight therein; that it should be called St. Joseph's; that
St. Joseph would keep guard at one door, and our Lady at the
other; that Christ would be in the midst of us; that the
monastery would be a star shining in great splendour; that,
though the religious Orders were then relaxed, I was not to
suppose that He was scantily served in them,--for what would
become of the world, if there were no religious in it?--I was to
tell my confessor what He commanded me, and that He asked him not
to oppose nor thwart me in the matter.
15. So efficacious was the vision, and such was the nature of the
words our Lord spoke to me, that I could not possibly doubt that
they came from Him. I suffered most keenly, because I saw in
part the great anxieties and troubles that the work would cost
me, and I was also very happy in the house I was in then; and
though I used to speak of this matter in past times, yet it was
not with resolution nor with any confidence that the thing could
ever be done. I saw that I was now in a great strait; and when I
saw that I was entering on a work of great anxiety, I hesitated;
but our Lord spoke of it so often to me, and set before me so
many reasons and motives, which I saw could not be gainsaid,--I
saw, too, that such was His will; so I did not dare do otherwise
than put the whole matter before my confessor, and give him an
account in writing of all that took place.
16. My confessor did not venture definitely to bid me abandon my
purpose; but he saw that naturally there was no way of carrying
it out; because my friend, who was to do it, had very little or
no means available for that end. He told me to lay the matter
before my superior, [6] and do what he might bid me do. I never
spoke of my visions to my superior, but that lady who desired to
found the monastery communicated with him. The Provincial was
very much pleased, for he loves the whole Order, gave her every
help that was necessary, and promised to acknowledge the house.
Then there was a discussion about the revenues of the monastery,
and for many reasons we never would allow more than thirteen
sisters together. Before we began our arrangements, we wrote to
the holy friar, Peter of Alcantara, telling him all that was
taking place; and he advised us not to abandon our work, and gave
us his sanction on all points.
17. As soon as the affair began to be known here, there fell upon
us a violent persecution, which cannot be very easily
described--sharp sayings and keen jests. People said it was
folly in me, who was so well off in my monastery; as to my
friend, the persecution was so continuous, that it wearied her.
I did not know what to do, and I thought that people were partly
in the right. When I was thus heavily afflicted, I commended
myself to God, and His Majesty began to console and encourage me.
He told me that I could then see what the Saints had to go
through who founded the religious Orders: that I had much heavier
persecutions to endure than I could imagine, but I was not to
mind them. He told me also what I was to say to my friend; and
what surprised me most was, that we were consoled at once as to
the past, and resolved to withstand everybody courageously.
And so it came to pass; for among people of prayer, and indeed in
the whole neighbourhood, there was hardly one who was not against
us, and who did not think our work the greatest folly.
18. There was so much talking and confusion in the very monastery
wherein I was, that the Provincial began to think it hard for him
to set himself against everybody; so he changed his mind, and
would not acknowledge the new house. He said that the revenue
was not certain, and too little, while the opposition was great.
On the whole, it seemed that he was right; he gave it up at last,
and would have nothing to do with it. It was a very great pain
to us,--for we seemed now to have received the first blow,--and
in particular to me, to find the Provincial against us; for when
he approved of the plan, I considered myself blameless before
all. They would not give absolution to my friend, if she did not
abandon the project; for they said she was bound to remove
the scandal.
19. She went to a very learned man, and a very great servant of
God, of the Order of St. Dominic, [7] to whom she gave an account
of all this matter. This was even before the Provincial had
withdrawn his consent; for in this place we had no one who would
give us advice; and so they said that it all proceeded solely
from our obstinacy. That lady gave an account of everything, and
told the holy man how much she received from the property of her
husband. Having, a great desire that he would help us,--for he
was the most learned man here, and there are few in his Order
more learned than he,--I told him myself all we intended to do,
and some of my motives. I never said a word of any revelation
whatever, speaking only of the natural reasons which influenced
me; for I would not have him give an opinion otherwise than on
those grounds. He asked us to give him eight days before he
answered, and also if we had made up our minds to abide by what
he might say. I said we had; but though I said so, and though I
thought so, I never lost a certain confidence that the monastery
would be founded. My friend had more faith than I; nothing they
could say could make her give it up. As for myself, though, as I
said, it seemed to me impossible that the work should be finally
abandoned, yet my belief in the truth of the revelation went no
further than in so far as it was not against what is contained in
the sacred writings, nor against the laws of the Church, which we
are bound to keep. Though the revelation seemed to me to have
come really from God, yet, if that learned man had told me that
we could not go on without offending God and going against our
conscience, I believe I should have given it up, and looked out
for some other way; but our Lord showed me no other way
than this.
20. The servant of God told me afterwards that he had made up his
mind to insist on the abandonment of our project, for he had
already heard the popular cry: moreover, he, as everybody did,
thought it folly; and a certain nobleman also, as soon as he knew
that we had gone to him, had sent him word to consider well what
he was doing, and to give us no help; that when he began to
consider the answer he should make us, and to ponder on the
matter, the object we had in view, our manner of life, and the
Order, he became convinced that it was greatly for the service of
God, and that we must not give it up. Accordingly, his answer
was that we should make haste to settle the matter. He told us
how and in what way it was to be done; and if our means were
scanty, we must trust somewhat in God. If anyone made any
objections, they were to go to him--he would answer them; and in
this way he always helped us, as I shall show by and by. [8]
21. This answer was a great comfort to us; so also was the
conduct of certain holy persons who were usually against us: they
were now pacified, and some of them even helped us. One of them
was the saintly nobleman [9] of whom I spoke before; [10] he
looked on it--so, indeed, it was--as a means of great perfection,
because the whole foundation was laid in prayer. He saw also
very many difficulties before us, and no way out of them,--yet he
gave up his own opinion, and admitted that the work might be of
God. Our Lord Himself must have touched his heart, as He also
did that of the doctor, the priest and servant of God, to whom,
as I said before, [11] I first spoke, who is an example to the
whole city,--being one whom God maintains there for the relief
and progress of many souls: he, too, came now to give us
his assistance.
22. When matters had come to this state, and always with the help
of many prayers, we purchased a house in a convenient spot; and
though it was small, I cared not at all for that, for our Lord
had told me to go into it as well as I could,--that I should see
afterwards what He would do; and how well I have seen it! I saw,
too, how scanty were our means; and yet I believed our Lord
would order these things by other ways, and be gracious unto us.
1. See ch. v. § 14, ch. vi. § 1.
2. Ch. xxxi. § 3.
3. In 1558 (De la Fuente).
4. This was said by Maria de Ocampo, niece of St. Teresa, then
living in the monastery of the Incarnation, but not a religious;
afterwards Maria Bautista, Prioress of the Carmelites at
Valladolid (Ribera, i. 7).
5. Ch. xxiv. § 5. Doña Guiomar de Ulloa.
6. The Provincial of the Carmelites: F. Angel de Salasar (De
la Fuente).
7. F. Pedro Ibañez (De la Fuente).
8. Ch. xxxiii. § 8.
9. Francis de Salcedo.
10. Ch. xxiii. § 6.
11. Gaspar Daza. See ch. xxiii. § 6.