Baring-Gould’s sources: Roman Martyrology. Canonized by Gregory XV. in 1621. Authorities: — A Life by Francis de Ribera, S.J., written in 1590. “Testimonia de S. Teresia, prolata a Didaco Yepes,” pub. in 1606. Also, S. Theresa’s own Memoirs, written at the command of her director, and her Book of the Foundations. Also her Letters.] S. Theresa was bom on the 28th of March, 1515, of noble parents, at Avila in Old Castile. Her father’s name was Alphonso Sanchez de Cepeda, who was married twice. His first wife, Catharino del Peso y Essai, presented him with two sons and a daughter. His second wife, Beatrix D* Avila y Ahumada, was the mother of our saint, and of eight other children — Ferdinand, Roderic (bom before Theresa), Laurence, Antony, Peter, Jerome, Augustine, and Joanna.

A convent of the Order of the Discalced Carmelites now occupies the site of the old house in which S. Theresa was bom, and the room in which she entered the world is converted into a little chapel. She was baptized on the day she was bom, in the neighbouring church of S. Bartholomew. The font is still preserved.

She writes: “ I had virtuous parents, and such as feared God. My father took great delight in reading good books, and he had them in Spanish, that his children might be able to read them also. This circumstance, together with the care my mother took to make us say our prayers, and to show us how to be devout to our Lady and some othei saints, began to affect me when I was about sue or seven years old.... My father was exceedingly charitable towards the poor, and kind to the sick and infirm; and even to his Oct. zsJ S. Theresa.

servants he was so considerate, that he never would keep slaves. Once there was a slave in his house who belonged to a brother of his, and he treated him as if he were one of his own sons, and said he could not bear to see men not free. He was a great lover of truth; no one ever heard him swear or disparage others; he was also exceedingly chaste. My mother likewise had many virtues, and she passed through life under great infirmities.... She had a sweet disposition and a sound understanding. The afflictions she bore all her life were very numerous; and when she died she made a most Christian end. There were three sisters and nine brothers; all resembled our parents in being good, except myself, though my father loved me best of all... My brothers in no way prevented me from serving God. One of them was about my age, and I loved him more than all the rest; though, at the same time, I must add that I loved them all very tenderly, and they loved me.” This little brother and Theresa, as children, began reading tion for their heroism, and with eager desire to follow in their steps. In their childish excitement they set off together to go to Morocco, in hopes of being there martyred for the faith, but their mother sent servants after them and brought them home. Then the children attempted to build hermitages in the garden, into which to retire and imitate the Fathers of the Desert, but the stones tumbled down. Theresa lost her mother when she was only twelve years old. “ When I began to understand what a loss I had sustained, I was greatly afflicted, and I threw myself before an image of our Lady, beseeching her, with many tears, to be a mother to me. And though I performed the act in simplicity, yet I think I gained benefit thereby, for I have clearly experienced the assistance of the Sovereign Virgin whenever I have recommended myself to her.” The death of her mother was a great loss to Theresa in more ways than one. She took to romance reading, but secretly, lest her father should know it; as he objected to these books, which were not harmless, like many modem novels, but contained much which was calculated to injure the modesty of a young girl’s soul. “ I spent many hours, both of the day and night, in this vain exercise,” says S. Theresa, “unknown to my father. But I was so addicted to the habit, that if I could not obtain a new book I was miserable. I began at the same time to wear smart clothes, and to take care of my looks. I thought of my hands and of my hair, and was fond of perfumes, together with all such vanities as I could lay hold of. I had not, however, any bad intentions, for I had no wish to lead anyone to offend God.”

There was a kinswoman who did her much harm, probably a young girl rather older than herself. For reasons that may well be understood, Theresa does not specify her by name. This friend was flighty, vain, and a flirt. There were other girls, in whose society she was often, whose talk ran on their marriage prospects, and on the young men they fancied, but the friend with whom Theresa associated most frequently was the worst. Theresa was then fourteen. This girl gave her an account of her intrigues, and drew her on into a secret flirtation, which fortunately came to the ears of her father and sisters in time, but not before a certain amount of scandal was afloat. “ Though I never was much inclined to evil — for I naturally abhorred dishonest actions — yet I loved to pass my time in pleasant conversations; but being placed in occasions of sin, the danger was near at hand, and that drew the attention of my father and brothers to it. But God delivered me from this danger in such manner that it seems clear to me He was resolved to save me from utter ruin, even against my will, though matters could not be managed so secretly but that my honour was stained thereby, Oetij.] •S'. Theresa.

and suspicions were raised in my father’s mind. After I had been going on in these vanities about three months, I was taken to a certain convent in this town, where such young persons as myself were educated. This removal was effected with great discretion and caution, for only myself and a relation knew of it They waited a favourable opportunity, that so the thing might not attract attention; and as my sister was just then married, it served as an excuse that it was not fit for me to remain at home alone without a mother. The love which my father bore me was so great — and, indeed, great also was my dissimulation— that he could not believe anything very bad of me, and therefore I did not fall into deep disgrace with him. For as the time was short, though he may have heard some reports about me, yet he heard nothing very definite, because, as I took so much care of my honour, all my diligence was directed towards keeping matters secret.

“ During the first eight days I was in the convent I felt very unhappy, the more so because I suspected my vanity was now found out. And I now began to be tired of my vanities, and to have a great fear when I offended God, and I confessed very often. All the religious were glad of my society, for our Lord gave me the special favour of always pleasing persons wherever I was, and thus I was much beloved, and though at that time I was set against becoming a nun, yet I was glad to see in this house so many good religious, of great purity, and devotion, and recollection. But notwithstanding all this, the devil ceased not to tempt me, and persons outside the monastery sent me messages; but as there was no opportunity for answering them, these messages soon ceased, and my soul began to accustom itself to the good impressions of my youth.”

She remained a year and a half in this convent, which was under the Augustinian [religious following the Rule of St. Augustine] rule, and was much influenced by the nun who was over the boarders. “ Her good company soon began to banish all the habits evil company had led me into, and to restore to my mind the desire of eternal things, and also, to some extent, to remove the aversion I had felt to becoming a nun — an aversion which, at one time, was very great.”

After this period Theresa fell ill, and was removed to her father’s house, and on her recovery went on a visit to her married sister, in the country. On her way to her sister’s she stayed with her uncle, Don Pedro Sanchez de Cepeda, a very religious man. “ It was his custom to read good books, and his usual discourse was on God and on the vanity of the world. He made me also read these books, and though they were not to my taste, yet I pretended to like them, for I always sought to give pleasure to others. Though I remained but a short time with him, yet such was the effect produced in my heart by the words of God, which I both heard and read, and also by the good company I had been in, that I came to understand those truths I had learned as a child. And though my will did not wholly incline me to be a nun, yet I clearly saw it was the better and safer condition, and so by little and little I resolved to force myself to embrace it.”

Her health at this time was delicate. She suffered from fevers and fainting fits, and it seemed probable that her life would be one of great infirmity.

She tried to persuade her father to allow her to enter a religious Order, but he would not consent. The utmost concession she could wring from him was that after his death she might do as she liked.

As she found her father’s will was not to be shaken, she determined to run away from home. In 1533, one November morning early, having confided her design only to her brother Antony, she left home, and took refuge in the ConOct. ij.] S. Theresa.

vent of the Incarnation at Avila, a house of the Carmelite Order, containing about 180 nuns. It was a new house, built only two years before Theresa was bom, with pleasant garden, red pantiled roof, and white walls, a cloister, with an open ambulatory above, much like the arrangement of a Moorish house, about a court containing poplars and a fountain, near which stands now a nut-tree, which tradition asserts was planted by the saint.

She was eighteen years old when she made her election, and became a novice in the Carmelite house of the Incarnation. Her father accepted the act, and does not seem to have used his authority to force her to leave the convent, trusting, perhaps, that her noviciate would tire her of the life. The change of diet and of manner of life began at once to tell on her health. She suffered from fits of fainting and violent palpitation of the heart. She had also other infirmities, and passed the first year in very bad health. Her father sent the best doctors to attend her, but as they effected no cure, her father ordered her removal to a place in the country where severe remedies were applied, after the barbarous surgery of the day, of course without doing the slightest good. She spent three months in this place, and very nearly got into another scrape during that time. There was a priest of good family at this place who had contracted an intimate and criminal friendship for a certain lady. The matter was whispered about and created scandal, but had not come to the ears of the bishop. Theresa went to confession to this priest, and “he became extremely attached to me. The affection of this man was not bad, though by being excessive it became evil. He knew well that I was determined not to do anything grievously offensive to God on any account whatever, and he assured me on his part that he had no wrong intentions, and so our mutual conversation became frequent.”

Theresa heard the scandalous stories told of him, but instead of this making her more cautious of meeting him, she sought his society all the more, in the hope of converting him — she, a handsome girl of eighteen. “ I was quite grieved to see the state he was in,” says she, in her autobiography; “because I loved him much. But I was so possessed with folly and blindness that it seemed a virtue in me to be grateful, and keep on good terms with one who loved me.”

She got talking to his servants about him, asking all sorts of questions, and finding out a good deal that she had better not have known. Among other things she discovered was that he wore round his neck a little bronze keepsake the lady had given him— an idol or amulet, the servants thought it must be, which held him bewitched.

Theresa did not quite believe in such charms. She resolved to try her own against those of the wicked lady. She got the miserable man into conversation on the subject of his fall — skating on rather thin ice. She saw the madness of it afterwards. He talked to her about the lady; she insisted on his throwing the keepsake away. “ As soon as I heard the particulars of the case, I began to show him more affection: my intention indeed was good, but my act was bad, for I ought not to have committed the least evil to gain the greatest good. I talked to him frequently about God, and this perhaps did him some good, but I think that the great love he bore to me influenced him most, and to please me he gave me the little idol, and I flung it at once into the river. Being deprived of this, he began to recover like one roused from a deep sleep, and to remember all that he had done during so long; he was amazed at himself, and bewailing his sin, came by degrees to abhor it. At length he gave up seeing the woman any more; and he died just upon that day twelvemonth after I had first seen him. He already begun to serve God very fervently, and though I never could perceive that the great affection he bore me was bad, yet it should have been more pure.” She was fortunately only three months in this place, and in this dangerous companionship, for her father removed her to his own house, where she became much worse, and a fever seemed to have taken permanent hold of her. After some months she was reduced to skin and bone, and on the Feast of the Assumption fell into a cataleptic fit, which continued four days. In this condition she received the sacrament of Extreme Unction, and at one time was believed by her relations to be dead. She afterwards picked the drops of wax from her eyes, where they had gathered from their tapers. On her recovering consciousness she confessed and received the blessed Sacrament. In the fit, she had bitten her tongue in several places, and the tongue swelled so that she could scarcely swallow. Her exhaustion also after the fit was great. She was lifted in and out of bed on a sheet, and continued suffering nervous pains, the result of an hysterical condition, till Easter. The surgeons — knowing nothing at that time of the nature of hysteria, and the power of the imagination in convulsing the frame and producing acute torture — dealt with the different parts of her body where her imagination seated pain, as though they were disordered, and cupped and blistered profusely, all in vain. The proper treatment for such a case would have been to make her get up and go about her active duties. But, as has been already said, hysterical disorders were not then understood. Towards Easter, probably getting tired of being at home, she fancied herself better, and accordingly lost her aches and returned to her convent, but her hysteria continued for two more years, till 1539, when she imagined she was cured by invoking S. Joseph, her hysteria at that period taking another direction.

The convent into which S. Theresa had entered was somewhat relaxed in discipline. The original Carmelite rule was very severe, but various popes by bull had granted considerable relaxations, so that now the nuns were not obliged to be enclosed, might receive and make visits, and were not condemned to the hard fasting which was the rule of the primitive institute. Theresa having won the affection of the prioress, and being regarded as virtuous and prudent, was allowed much more liberty than most of the other young nuns. “ My superiors,” she says, “ allowed me as much and even more liberty than was accorded to the older women in the house; and they had great confidence in me, for as to my taking any liberties, or doing anything without leave, or speaking with any one by night in holes and corners, that was what I could never think of.” On this she offers some pertinent remarks: “ If parents would take my advice, they would consider their own honour, and marry their daughters very meanly rather than place them in such monasteries, unless they be very virtuously inclined. If parents do not like what I recommend, they had better keep their daughters at home, for if they wish to be wicked they can keep it secret only for a short time, whereas in the convent it may remain hidden for a long time, though in the end our Lord is accustomed to discover it. But they hurt not only themselves, but all the others also; and sometimes these poor creatures are not to be blamed, because they only do that which they find practised.”

One of the mischiefs arose from the visiting which was allowed. Theresa seeing that the others were allowed to see visitors, thought it would do her no harm to receive her acquaintances also. But one day when she was conversing with a friend, in whose society she had found much pleasure, she fancied she saw our Lord look at her with an angry countenance, and this frightened her. The grating at which S. Theresa.

she is thought to have been standing, and through which she was talking to her visitor when she saw the vision, is still pointed out in the convent at Avila, and the Bollandists [Jesuit scholars who since the 1600s have critically studied the lives of the saints] give two engravings of it.

“ However,” says the saint, “ as it was against my inclination to give up these talks, I tried to deceive myself, and as I durst not confer with any one about the matter, assuring myself that there could be no evil in seeing this person, and that there would be gain rather than loss by it, I returned to the same conversation, and even on some occasions to others; and for many years I took this pestilential recreation, and being once engaged in it, it seemed to me not to be so very bad as it indeed was, though sometimes I perceived clearly enough that it was not good. But yet no other conversation distracted me so much as this did, on account of the great affection I bore towards this person. Another time when I was in company with the same individual, we both of us saw coming towards us something in the shape of a great toad, which passed on with much greater celerity than is customary with these creatures. I could not understand how such a filthy beast could get into the room from the part whence it issued, and even at noonday. “ While I was yet very infirm in those days, before I knew how to help myself, I conceived an extreme desire to do others good, which is a very common temptation for beginners, though it happened to succeed well with me. As I loved my father dearly, I desired he might receive the benefit of mental prayer, and so I began, by indirect discourses, to try to urge him to obtain it, and for this purpose I gave him some books. As he was such a good man, he applied himself diligently to this exercise, and within five or six years advanced so much that it gave me the greatest consolation. He often came to see me, and derived great comfort from speaking on holy things. But then I was living in such distraction that I had left off mental prayer, and as I saw that he still thought me to be practising it, I could not endure to leave him undeceived. I had passed a year or more without prayer (of this sort), and it was too much for me to see my father so greatly deceived; so I told him that I no longer used mental prayer, though I did not mention the cause. I alleged, however, my infirmities as an obstacle,.... and my father, through the high opinion he had of me, and the love he bore me, not only believed all I said, but pitied me. As he now found himself raised to such an eminent degree of prayer, he did not remain long with me, considering his stay as loss of time, and he therefore went home. But I was so desirous to spend my time in other vanities, that I did not trouble myself much about his departure.” Shortly after this her father fell ill. During his sickness Theresa nursed him tenderly, and closed his eyes when he died. Whilst attending to her dying father, she made the acquaintance of a Dominican father, a very worthy man, and confessed to him. S. Theresa was always glad to hail any priest who seemed to her a pious man, and to confess to him and obtain his advice. She was perpetually changing her confessors, and was by no means satisfied with the directions they gave her, unless they chimed in with her own convictions. She seems also to have rather scared some of them by the warmth and demonstrativeness of her affection for them. “ It happened sometimes with some of my confessors that, thinking I was safe with them, I was apt to show them extraordinary affection, for I always love those who direct my soul, for I consider that they hold the place of God, and I think it is towards them that I express most affection; but they, being servants of God and cautious persons, became timorous lest I should be too much attached to them, though of course quite innocently, and they show that they do not approve of it. This happened afterwards, when I began to.S'. Theresa.

subject myself to direction by them, for before I did not bear them so much love.... afterwards, when they understood me better, these suspicions disappeared.” 1 She was at this period in a very unsettled condition. “ I made almost no account of venial sins; mortal sins I feared, but not as much as I ought, since I did not avoid dangerous occasions. I can declare that this is one of the most painful conditions of life that can be imagined, for I neither enjoyed the sweetness of God, nor the pleasures of the world. When I was entertaining myself with the follies of the world, the thought of how I was bound to God pained me; and when I was praying to God, the love I had for the world disturbed me.”

The first tokens of a change were a weariness of the soul. It was unsatisfied. The miserable affection for persons in the world could lead to nothing; life in a convent was a mere pretence whilst her heart was busy with friends and acquaintances. She felt this at last, after some years; and while in this mood of disgust and dissatisfaction the “ Confessions of S. Augustine ” was put into her hand. This wonderful book produced a change in her soul. The anguish of the great saint in breaking with the world and loved ties was intensely realized by her. She made the resolve to snap the bonds which attached her to earth, and give up her heart wholly to God. Her hysteria now took a new form. It developed a condition of ecstasy and vision which was very extraordinary. She was dissatisfied with her confessors, no doubt with justice: they had allowed her to go on for some years without making any progress, without attempting to correct her privately, and point her to a higher path. Hearing that there was a learned priest in Avila, she talked to a friend of hers, a married gentleman, who was a pious. God-fearing man, about her state, and asked him to obtain [Oct. ij.

the advice of this priest. The priest, as requested, gave her an audience, but declined at first to hear her confession, as he was very busy. He, however, soon found out what Theresa’s weaknesses were, and he prevented and forbade “ those little practices,” the gossip with friends, and chit-chats with relations. Theresa was not prepared to yield at once; and so she turned for advice to the married layman, and got him to promise to visit her every now and then, to discuss her spiritual condition with her. “ He accordingly began to visit me and encourage me, and he told me that I must not think of delivering myself from all my imperfections at once, but that God would do it by little and little.” Her confessors had no patience with her when she began to talk of her visions, and told her that they were delusions of the devil This troubled her exceedingly, for she was quite satisfied that they were not so. That they were the result of constitutional disorder never occurred to her or them. At last a father of the Society of Jesus, Baltazar Alvarez, came to Avila, and by the advice of her lay friend and the priest, he was called into consultation on her visions. This father at once understood her case, as she believed. “ He encouraged me much, and told me that my prayer was very evidently from the Spirit of God.” Not long after, S. Francis Borgia came to Avila, and S. Theresa spoke to him, gave him a long account of her manner of prayer, her trances, and visions. He at once assured her that they came from God. Her former confessors had forbidden her to give way to her raptures; the two Jesuit fathers reversed the treatment, and bade her yield herself up to all her ecstatic emotions. She at once felt nerved to give up her little gossips with male friends, and she was the more confirmed to do so by hearing Christ in vision bid her “ converse no more with men, but with angels.” “ From that day I have remained full of courage and resolution to abandon all things for God. Thus 8. THERESA.

Oct. is* GoogI Oct xsJ S. Theresa. there was no longer any necessity to command me in this respect, for when my confessor [in old usage, a saint who was not martyred, or who suffered for the faith without being killed] found me so resolute, he did not even think it necessary to issue his orders on this point.” Baltazar Alvarez always supported Theresa in her convictions that her visions were divine, but he could not be always at Avila, and she was therefore at times obliged to return to her former confessors. They would not believe in the heavenly origin of her ecstasies, and assured her she was a prey to delusions of the devil. At last, thinking she was doing herself harm by these high-flown devotions, they forbade her the practice of mental prayer. Thereupon she had a vision in which our Lord appeared to her, and denounced the conduct of her confessors as downright tyranny, and bade her go and tell them so.1 Her visions were not always calculated to impress her confessors with convictions that they were mistaken. Once she saw a seraph stab at her with a dart whose point burned with fire, and the barbed head entering her breast, caught her bowels and pulled them out as the seraph drew the arrow away. “ The pain was so intense, that it forced deep groans from me; but the sweetness which this extreme pain caused in me was so excessive, that there was no desiring to be free from it. During the time I was in this state, I went up and down like one distracted; I wished neither to see nor to speak, but only to be consumed by my pain, which was a greater happiness for me than any that can be found in creatures.” 3 On another occasion, whilst she was praying for a departed soul, the devil sat down over the collect so that she could not read it. She made the sign of the cross, and he got up and departed, and she finished reading the collect.* Some of her visions were most remarkable. She often saw our Blessed Lord, but never found words in which to describe Him. “For two years and a half our Lord was very ordinarily pleased to grant me this favour; and then, when He was communing with me I gazed at His great beauty, and the sweetness with which He uttered His words with His most lovely and divine mouth, sometimes also with sternness. I had a great desire to observe the colour of His eyes and their shape and size, that I might give a description of them, but I have never been able to behold them, nor have I succeeded in gaining my point, as the vision has then faded. And though, sometimes, I see He looks at me with compassion, yet the sight is so overpowering that the soul is not able to endure it, but remains in so high a rapture that in order to enjoy Him the more completely this beautiful spectacle is removed Our Lord has almost always represented Himself to me as risen again, so is it always in the Sacred Host; except that occasionally, in order to strengthen me when I am in trouble, He has shown me His wounds as He hung on the cross or was in the garden. A few times He has appeared with His crown of thorns, and at other times carrying His cross. These happened, as I have said, only when I was in trouble, either on my own account, or for some other persons: but our Lord generally appeared in His glorified flesh One day when I was holding the cross in my hand, which was at the end of my rosary, He took it into His hand, and when He returned it to me, it consisted of four great stones, incomparably more precious than diamonds. They had on them the five wounds in a most curious manner. And our Lord told me that I should see Him just in that way thenceforth, and so I did: and then I no longer saw the material of which the cross was made, but only those precious stones. None saw them but myself.”1 She gives a beautiful description of the appearance of the light of the resurrection body. “It is,” she says, “a light different from that of this world. It is as if one saw 1 Autobiog. c. 29.

8. THERESA WRITING. •S’. Theresa. very pure water running over a crystal floor with the sun shining on it, striking through it, and reflected from it” “One day, after mass, it being the vigil of Pentecost, I went to a very retired place, where I often used to pray, and I began to read in a certain book.... when there came on me a great vehemence, as though my soul was en deavouring to get out of my body, being unable any longer to contain itself. This was so strange a feeling that I knew not what to do with myself. I leaned on one side, not being able to sit upright, for my natural strength failed me. When in this state I saw a dove above my head, but instead of feathers it was covered with little shells which emitted a great light. The dove was much larger than ordinary pigeons, and I thought I heard the sound of its wings.” “ Once I saw near me a very horrible little negro, gnashing his teeth like one raving mad, as if he had lost something which he hoped to have gained. As soon as I saw him I laughed, for there were some near me who did not know what to do with me in this case, for I felt great internal disquiet, and I could in no way And rest, neither dared I ask for holy water, lest I should frighten those present, and let them know what I saw. I have found by long experience that there is nothing which so effectually scares devils as holy water. They fly from a cross, but they come back again directly..... I told those who were present, as my torment did not cease, that if they would not laugh at me I would beg for some holy water. They brought me some and sprinkled me with it, but it did me no good. I then myself sprinkled some on the place where the devil was, and he departed instantly, and all my pains went away also, as if some one had removed them with his hand, except that I found myself as tired as if I had been severely beaten.” 1 “ One night I thought the devils would have strangled 1 Autobiog. c. 31.

me, but as soon as I had a quantity of holy water sprinkled on me, I saw a number of them tumble off, headlong, and others running away as if frantic.”

But her most remarkable vision was that of the place prepared for her by the devils, in hell, and which she had deserved by her sins.

“ The entrance seemed to be like a long close alley, or rather like a low, dark, and narrow oven; and the ground appeared to be like mire, exceeding filthy, stinking insupportably, and swarming with vermin. At the end of it was a little hole, like a press in the wall, into which I found myself thrust, and close bent up. The torment of this press was indescribable All imaginable tortures are nothing compared to the contraction, the suffocation, the discontent, and disgust I felt in that place. I saw not who it was tormented me, but.... I saw that there was no room for the least hope. Thus was I thrust into this place like a hole in the wall, and the walls, too horrible for the sight, press in on one so that everything there chokes and stifles. There is nothing but dense darkness without a ray, and yet I know not how, though there is no light, yet one sees all that can affect the sight I was so amazed at this sight that even now, six years after I saw the vision, my blood curdles in my veins as I think of it. And whatever pains I may now suffer, when I recall what I then endured, at once all that can be suffered in this life seems to be nothing at all” 1 This vision produced an immense impression upon her. She resolved to do something for God.

“And now I began to consider what I could do for God. The first thing I thought of was to follow the call which He had given me to a religious life, and to observe the rule with the greatest perfection. And though there were in the house where I lived many servants of God, by whom He was 1 Autobiog. c. 3a.

Oct i5.] s. Theresa. 375 greatly served, yet as they were in want of temporal means, many of the nuns were obliged to go out and seek for assistance; still, they did so with all due decorum and piety. Besides, the house was not founded according to the primitive strictness of the rule, but was relaxed with the rest of the Order, by papal dispensation. There were also other inconveniences. It seemed to me that the place was too good, the house too large and pleasant, and the inconvenience of having to leave the monastery often had become a great trouble to me, to such an extent had it grown that I was accustomed to spend but little of my time in the monastery.”

Talking with a friend one day, she heard that certain nuns of the Order had adopted a reform, and had gone back to observance of the primitive rule. The friend, a widow lady, said: “ How should you like to join me, and become diseased nuns, and help me to found a monastery of this sort ? ” The idea fired the brain of Theresa, and she went to the Superior to ask permission to start a convent of the strict rule. The Superior and Provincial gave their consent, and arranged that the new house was to contain thirteen nuns, and was to enjoy a certain fixed revenue. But here S. Theresa interfered; she positively refused to have a revenue. The house should be founded in absolute poverty. “ As soon as our intention began to get wind in the town, there rose such a storm of persecution as is quite indescribable. The scoffs, the jeers, the laughter, the outcries that this was a ridiculous, fantastic undertaking, were more than I can speak of.”

The Provincial, thinking it would be rash to run counter to popular feeling, thereupon changed his mind, and refused to permit the foundation.

“ In the meantime I was in very bad odour in the house where I was, because I wished to draw the enclosure more tight. They said that I insulted them, and that God was well served in their convent, and that it would be far better for me to devote my energies to procuring money for that house which already existed than for a new one. Some even wanted to have me put into prison, and there were few who took my part. As for me, I saw clearly that they had good reasons for many things they said, and sometimes I made excuses, though, as I could not tell them the principal motive, which was the command of our Lord, I knew not what to say, and so I held my tongue.”

Her confessor also wrote to her to say that he hoped that now she saw her scheme was but an impracticable dream, and that she must think no more of prosecuting it. She was however, encouraged by another confessor, a Dominican, named Pedro Ibanez, and by another whom she took into her confidence, a Jesuit, named Gasparde Salazar. After about six months Theresa persuaded her sister to buy a house for her in Avila, with great secrecy. “ I knew that if I told anything about it to my superiors, the whole business would be undone, as happened before.” She also secretly collected sufficient money to furnish the house, and in the same secret manner, through her friend, the zealous lady, who went heart and soul with her, engaged workmen to put the house in repair. The matter could not, however, be kept so close that none got wind of it. But as nothing certain could be established, many people doubted that S. Theresa was really the proprietress of a house and was meditating a move into it, and the establishment of a community of discalced Carmelite nuns. This took place in 1561. In January, 1562, she was suddenly ordered away to Toledo, to attend on a noble lady, Louisa de la Cerda, who had just lost her husband, and was in great affliction. She spent half a year with this lady at Toledo, and there met a certain Dominican, for whom she conceived a great liking, Oct. ij.] S. Theresa.

and who encouraged her in her designs. “ While I was at mass one day in a monastery of his Order, a desire came upon me to know in what disposition his soul then was, for I desired that he might become a great servant of God. I rose up that I might go and speak to him, but afterwards thought it would be waste of time, and so sat down again, thinking moreover that I had no right to do so to him. As far as I remember I got up to go to him and then changed my mind three times. At last my good angel became stronger than my evil one, and so I went after him and began to ask him many questions, and he did the same to me, respecting the lives we had led. I began to tell him that, as for mine, it had been subject to many afflictions. When he heard this he pressed me to acquaint him with them. In fact, he could not refrain from importuning me, nor was I able to refrain myself from telling him of them. I therefore explained my whole life to him under the seal of confession, and he appeared to me more prudent than others, and I was most anxious that he should devote himself entirely to God. When I see any one who takes my fancy I instantly desire that he may give himself entirely to God, and I wish it sometimes so vehemently that I can hardly contain myself. And though I desire all the world to serve our Lord, yet I desire with vehement impetuosity that this should be so with those whom I best like, and so I often importune the Lord on their behalf. So I went quite alone to the place where I was accustomed to pray, and I began to speak with our Lord, but it was in a manner so familiar, that often I knew not what I was saying. After I had entreated our Lord with abundance of tears that the soul of this religious might be devoted in earnest to His service, I remember praying thus: ‘Though I have him already in reality, yet that will not content me unless I possess him altogether;7 and I also said, ‘O Lord! do not refuse me this favour, consider that this good man is fit to be numbered as our friend.,... I was once with him in the locutory of the monastery, and so great was the love which my soul understood was burning in his, that I was almost absorbed by it, for I was considering the greatness of God, and how in so short a time he had raised his soul to such an admirable state. It did me so much good to be with him that he seemed to inflame my soul with new fire and new desires to serve our Lord.”

About this time she met also with S. Peter of Alcantara, in the house of the widow lady with whom she was staying, and he also urged her to go on with her design of founding a monastery without revenues, and in the primitive severe rule of the Order.

On her return to Avila, she found that a brief had been obtained from Rome by her friends there authorizing her to found her reformed house. The gentleman who had favoured her plan all along, and had been a sort of lay director to her at Avila, went with the brief to the bishop, and supported by Peter of Alcantara, persuaded him to allow the house to be opened.

“ Everything was done with the greatest secrecy, for had this not been the case nothing could have been accomplished, for the people disliked the undertaking exceedingly, as was afterwards seen.” A relation of S. Theresa’s most opportunely fell ill, and she obtained permission to nurse her. This gave her liberty to prepare the house, urge on the workmen, and get the plans ready for sudden execution. On S. Bartholomew's Day, 1562, with the utmost caution, the Blessed Sacrament was taken to the room turned into a chapel, some ladies took the habit from the hands of S. Theresa, two other nuns from the convent of the Incarnation being present The house was that in which her sick relative was nursed, consequently no suspicions had been aroused in the minds S. Theresa.

of her superiors. As soon as it was thus transformed into a convent, the sick woman was removed, leaving the nuns in possession. All went on smoothly till after dinner: Theresa had lain down for her siesta, when the house was disturbed by the arrival of a messenger from the convent of the Incarnation with peremptory orders for Theresa to return thither at once. The prioress had heard of the move on the part of the saint, and the whole convent was in excitement Theresa was frightened, she was obliged to obey, and she went, “ thinking they would certainly put me into prison.” “ As soon as I arrived I gave an account of myself to the prioress, who then became somewhat pacified. But they all sent for the Father Provincial, and the cause was to be heard before him. He blamed me very sharply, for I acknowledged my fault to him as one very guilty. In some things I saw clearly that they condemned me wrongfully, for they said that I had undertaken the affair so as to get a reputation and name. But in other things I was convinced that what they said was true, as that, not having observed the relaxed rules of that house, how could I think of keeping the severer rules of another house? These accusations did not give me any trouble or pain, though I pretended to be afflicted, lest I should seem to disregard what they said to me.”

S. Theresa was, however, quite safe; she had the papal brief authorizing her undertaking, and however much her superiors might be annoyed and object, they could not but submit to its authority.

“ Two or three days after, the mayor and magistrates of the city met, along with the chapter, to consider this matter, and all declared that they would on no account consent to the establishment of the new house, and that the most Blessed Sacrament should be taken from it, and the convent dissolved. They appointed divers divines from every Order to give me their opinions. Of these some said nothing, others condemned the business. Only one father, a Dominican (Banez), said there was no necessity for dissolving the house so suddenly, and without further consideration, and that the affair belonged to the bishop. These words did much good, for, considering the excitement, it is a wonder the people did not immediately pull the building down. The tumult and excitement were so.great that no one talked of anything else; and all condemned my running first to the Provincial and then to the monastery In the meantime the king's council was informed of the whole proceeding, and an order came that an account should be drawn up of the constitution of the new house. Here began fresh difficulties, for some had gone to Court on behalf of the citizens, and some ought to go on our behalf, but we had no money, and I knew not what to do.”

However, a priest, named Gonzalez de Aranda, offered to go to Court for her, along with her lay friend, Francisco de Salcedo. The Bishop also sent a priest named Daza to the city council to propose a compromise. The opposition lasted half a year, during which time Theresa was kept in the monastery of the Incarnation, and not allowed to visit those to whom she had given the veil in the house she had bought and set apart.

At last Father Banez, her Dominican confessor, persuaded the Provincial and the Prioress of the Incarnation to allow Theresa to go to her newly-founded monastery. The excitement of the people and town council had somewhat abated, alms were given to the destitute nuns, and difficulties disappeared one by one.

“ I lived five years in the convent of S. Joseph at Avila, after I had founded it; and I think that they were the most quiet years of my life. I there enjoyed the tranquillity and calmness which my soul has often since longed for..... Oct X*] S. Theresa.

The number in the house was thirteen, a number which I was resolved not to exceed. I was much delighted at living among such pure and holy souls, for all their care was to serve and praise our Lord. His Divine Majesty sent us everything necessary without our asking; and whenever we were in want— and- that was seldom — their joy was all the greater. I praised the Lord for giving them such heroic virtue, and especially for endowing them with indifference to what concerned their bodies. I, who was their Superior, never remember to have been troubled with any thought in this matter, because I firmly believed that our Lord would not be wanting to those who had no other wish than how to please Him. With regard to the virtue of obedience, I could mention many things which I here saw in them. One at present recurs to me. One day a few cucumbers were given to us, and we were eating them at our meal. The cucumber that fell to my share was rotten inside. I called one of the sisters, and to prove her obedience, bade her plant it in the garden. She asked if she should plant it upright or sideways; I said * sideways,* and she immediately did so, without the thought occurring to her that it must decay. Her esteem for obedience was so superior to her natural reason, that she acted as if believing that what I ordered was proper.” In course of time, the eager, active mind of Theresa formed a new scheme. She had now a convent of discalced nuns, she was resolved to have also a monastery of discalced friars. The General of her Order came to Avila from Rome; she explained to him the reform she had effected, and her desire to extend the reform to monasteries of men. He acquiesced, and gave her permission to form such a society, if she could. “ I was now,” says she, “ much consoled at having his licence, but much troubled at having no friars ready to begin the work, nor any secular ready to start the house. Here was I, a poor barefooted nun, without the support of any one but our Lord, furnished with plenty of letters and good wishes, but without the possibility of putting my wishes into execution.”

However, she wrote to the General of the Jesuits at Medina, and he and the rest of the fathers of that society took the matter up very warmly, and did not desist till they had obtained from the bishop and magistrates licence for the foundation of such a monastery as S. Theresa desired. “ Now, though Ihad a licence, I had no house, nor a farthing wherewith to buy one; and how could a poor stranger like me procure credit, had not the Lord assisted us ? He so ordered that a virtuous lady, for whom there had been no room for admission into S. Joseph's convent, hearing that another house was about to be started, asked to be admitted into it. She had some money, but not enough to buy the house with; only sufficient for the hire of one, and to pay our travelling expenses. And so we hired one; and without any other assistance we left Avila, two nuns from S. Joseph's and myself, with four from the relaxed convent of the Incarnation, and our chaplain Julian d' Avila.”

They reached Medina del Campo on the eve of the Assumption, 1567, at midnight, and stole on foot with great secrecy to the hired house. “ It was a great mercy of God that at such an hour we met no one, though then was the time when the bulls were about to be shut up which were to fight next day. I have no recollection of anything, I was in such a scare and anxiety. Having come to the house, we entered a court, the walls of which were much decayed. The good father who had hired the house was short-sighted, and had not noticed how unfit the place was to be made an abode for the Blessed Sacrament. When I saw the hall I perceived that much rubbish would have to be removed, and the walls to be plastered. The night was far advanced, and we had brought only a few hangings there, I think, which 6". Theresa.

was nothing for the whole length of the hall. I knew not what was to be done, for I saw that this was not a fit place for an altar to be erected in it. However, our Lord was willing that this should be done immediately, for the steward of the lady had in the house several pieces of tapestry and a piece of blue damask, and we were allowed the use of them. When I saw such good furniture, I praised our Lord. But we knew not what to do for nails, and that was not the time when any could be bought. We began to search for some on the walls, and at length procured enough. Then some of the men put up the tapestry whilst we swept the floor; and we made such haste, that when it was daylight the altar was ready, a bell was put up, and immediately mass was said. This was sufficient for taking possession, but we did not rest dll the Blessed Sacrament was placed in the tabernacle, and through the chinks of the door opposite the altar we heard mass, having no other place.”

When daylight came S. Theresa was aghast to see how ruinous the house was: the hall which she had hastily converted into a chapel, was so full of cracks that the Blessed Sacrament was exposed to the sight of those who passed in the streets, and she saw that the repairs of the dilapidated mansion would cost money and take time. She was much dispirited, for she began to fear that she had undertaken what she had not the power to carry out — her intention being to make this a convent of nuns, and then to found, if possible, in the same town, a monastery for reformed Carmelite friars.

“ In this trouble I passed a great part of the evening, till the Rector of the Society (of Jesus) sent a father to visit me, and he consoled me greatly. I did not tell him all my troubles, but only that which I felt at seeing ourselves in the street. I spoke to him of the necessity of having another house for us, cost what it might, wherein we might dwell till this one was repaired. I recovered courage also at seeing so many people come to us and none of them accuse me of folly, which was a mercy of God, for they would have done quite right to take away from us the Blessed Sacrament. In spite of all the efforts made to obtain another house, none could be found to be let in the old town, and this gave me great anxiety night and day; for though I had appointed men to watch and guard the Blessed Sacrament, yet I was fearful lest they should fall asleep, and so I got up in the night myself to guard it at a window, and by the clear light of the moon I could see it very plainly. “ About eight days after, a merchant, seeing our necessity, and living himself in a very good house, told us we might have the upper part of it, where we might live as in a private house of our own. He also had a large hall with a gilt roof, and this he gave us for a church.”

Others came forward and assisted, and the upper storey of the merchant’s house was fitted up for their reception. Shortly after she began to see her way towards obtaining friars for her reformed Order. There was in Medina an excellent priest, named Antonio de Heredia, who had assisted her greatly. He told her that he desired to enter the Carthusian [a strict order of hermit-monks founded by St. Bruno in 1084] Order. This did not please Theresa; she entreated him to delay a year the execution of his design, and she then confided to him her plan. He was pleased with it, and to her great delight offered to be the first friar of her reformed society. Shortly after, she met S. John of the Cross, who was also at the time thinking of joining the Carthusians. She intercepted him and persuaded him to become a diseased Carmelite. “ He promised me he would do so if the business did not prove too tedious. When I now saw I had two religious to commence the work with, it seemed to me that the matter was accomplished, although I was not entirely satisfied with the * Prior; and thus some delay caused, as well as by our not having any place for commencing our monastery.”

In 1568, the Lady de la Cerda, sister of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, wrote to S. Theresa, offering to found a house of Discalced Carmelite nuns in her own town, Malagon. This lady knew Theresa well, it was with her when she had been left a widow that the saint had spent six months. Theresa at once went to Malagon with some of her nuns, and took possession of the house provided for them. Four or five months after, whilst S. Theresa was talking to a young gentleman of quality, he most unexpectedly offered her a house he possessed in Valladolid, with a vineyard attached to it. She at once accepted the offer. But when she arrived at Valladolid, she found that the place was unhealthy, and altogether unsuitable. Indeed all the nuns fell ill in it, and they were obliged to move to another house given them by the sister of the Bishop of Avila. Shortly after this, a young gentleman of Avila hearing that S. Theresa wished to found a monastery of Discalced Friars, offered her a house he possessed in the little village of Durvello. She accepted it, and then started to see it, with a nun and her chaplain, Father Julian d’ Avila. “ Though we set off at daybreak, yet as the place was not much known, no one could direct us; and thus we walked all that day in great trouble, for the sun was very hot, and when we thought we were near the place, we found that we had still a long way to go. I shall never forget the fatigue and wanderings of that day. We arrived at the place just before nightfall, and when we went into the house, we found it was in such a state that we could not possibly spend the night in it, partly because it was filthy, and partly because there were many people about. It had a tolerable hall, two chambers with a garret, and a little kitchen: this was the building we were to use as our friary. I thought that the hall might be turned into a chapel, the garret into a choir for the friars, and the two chambers into a dormitory. My companion could not endure the thought of making a monastery of the place, and said, ‘ Mother, no soul can possibly endure such a place as this, however great the sanctity. Speak no more about it.’ Father Julian did not oppose me when I expressed my intentions, though he was of the same opinion as my companion. We spent the night in the church, though so great was our fatigue, we stood more in need of sleep than of vigil. Having arrived at Medina, I spoke with Father Antonio, and told him everything. He answered: * I am ready to live not only in such a house as that which you describe, but even in a pigstye.’ Father John of the Cross was of the same mind.” The consent of the bishop and of the provincial of the Order having been obtained, the two fathers went off to the wretched house, and took possession of it on the first or second Sunday in Advent, 1568.

u The following Lent [the forty days of fasting before Easter], as I was going to Toledo, I passed that way, and came on Father Antonio sweeping the door of the church, with his usual cheerful countenance. ‘ What is this, father?' said I; * what has become of your dignity?* answered.

“ When I went into the church along with two merchants, friends of mine, who had come with me from Medina, I was astonished to see how the spirit of the Lord reigned there. So many crosses and skulls were there that the merchants could do nothing but weep. Never shall I forget one little cross placed over the holy water stoup, on which was fixed a paper crucifix, and which produced more devotion than one elaborately carved. The garret formed the choir. It was high in the middle, so that they could stand up there to say the Hours; but to enter it they were obliged to stoop low, S. Theresa.

They had made two little hermitages on each side of the church, so low that they could only sit or lie down in them, filled inside with hay because it was cold. Their heads almost touched the roof. Two little windows commanded the altar, and two stones served them as pillows. Here was also a store of crosses and skulls.

“ They went about preaching among the ignorant people of the neighbourhood, and soon gained such a reputation, that I was greatly consoled. They went to preach six or eight miles off, through snow and frost, barefoot, for they wore no sandals then; afterwards they were ordered to wear them. When they had done preaching and confessing they returned late to their meal, but with such joy that all their sufferings were not accounted by them. As for food, they had sufficient, for the people of the neighbouring villages provided them with more than they wanted.” This monastery was shortly afterwards transferred to Mancera, where a more commodious house was placed at their disposal. The next foundation of S. Theresa was that of S. Joseph’s, at Toledo, in 1569. A pious merchant in that city fell ill, and by the advice of a Jesuit confessor left money for the establishment of a convent of nuns in Toledo. The Jesuit father and the executor of the deceased wrote to S. Theresa on the death of the merchant, and asked her if she were willing to found a house in Toledo with the money left She went to that city and arrived there on Christmas Eve. She took up her residence in the house of her friend, the widow Donna Luisa de la Cerda.

Things did not run smoothly. The governor and council of Toledo would not license her establishment; and the executor of the deceased merchant would not let her have the money unless she complied with certain requisitions which she did not think consistent with the rule to grant. “ I now knew not what to do, for I had come to Toledo [Oct. X£ for no other purpose than to make the foundation, and I saw that to go away without having done so would be a great reproach. I resolved therefore to speak with the governor himself, and hastening to a church which was near his house, I sent a message to entreat him to allow me to speak with him: it was now two months that the business had been dragging on, and every day matters became worse. When I appeared before him, I said that I thought it very hard that poor women should be hindered from living in mortification and enclosure by those who spent their time in pleasure. And by these and other remarks which I made with great freedom, I softened his heart so that he granted me a license before I left. Thereupon I was greatly delighted, thinking I had gained my point, whereas I had nothing but this permission, and three or four ducats. With these I bought two pictures painted on linen, as I had none for the altar, two straw mattresses, and a coverlet. I knew of no house, and had nothing more to do with Alonzo Alvarez (the executor). A merchant of the city, a friend of mine, told me not to be troubled, he would find me a house. But he fell sick, and therefore could not keep his promise. A few days before, a Franciscan friar, called Martin de la Cruz, who had been staying a few days in Toledo, had sent me a young man, a penitent of his, whose name was Andrada; he was very poor, and his confessor told him to do whatever I should order him. Being one day in the church at mass, he came to speak with me, and assured me he would do all he could to serve me. I thanked him, but laughed heartily, as did also my companions, on seeing what help that holy friar had sent us; for he was not dressed as was fitting for conversing with Discalceate nuns. However, when I saw myself with a license, but with no one to help me, I remembered this young man, and mentioned him to my companions; but they laughed at me, and advised me not to commit the S. Theresa.

matter to him, as he was sure to talk about it I did not, however, listen to them, but sent for the young man, and desired him to look out for a house, and I would give him security for the hire of it, as the money would be procured by Alonso d* Avila, the merchant, who, as I said, was sick. Next morning, when I was at mass in a church of the Jesuit fathers, he came to speak to me; and told me that he had found and hired a house, and had brought the keys with him, and that we had better go and see it. We did so, as it was very near, and found it so convenient that we lived in it nearly a year. Very often, when I think of this foundation, I am astonished at the ways of God; for during three months certain wealthy persons were searching throughout Toledo for a house, and could find none; and yet, when this poor young man went, our Lord was pleased that he should find one at once.

“ As the house suited, I ordered immediate possession to be taken, before anything else was done in it, that so there might be no disturbance. Andrada told me that the house would be empty that day, and that we might send our furniture thither. I told him there was little to be done, for all we had was two straw mattresses and one coverlet, at which he seemed astonished. We borrowed all that was necessary for saying mass; and in the beginning of the night we went with a workman to take possession, carrying with us a little bell, such as is rung at the elevation, for we had no other; and thus in great fear we spent the night in making preparation. But I found no place proper for a chapel, except a room which was entered through another little house that adjoined it, and which we had also hired of the landlady; but this house was then occupied by some women, and I dared not speak to them of the matter, lest they should tell what we were about.

“ Everything being now ready, we began to break open a VOL. xii. 3 door through the partition wall. The women who were in the room, so soon as they heard the blows, were frightened, and left their beds in fear. We had much difficulty in pacifying them. For some time they were inflexible, and would not hear of our taking possession of this room for a church; but they did no harm, our Lord appeasing them, and when they saw what we were going to do, they allowed mass to be performed there.

“ I afterwards saw that I had made a mistake, for the mistress of the house was very angry when she heard that her house was converted into a church, and she was only appeased by the consideration that if she humoured us, we might purchase the house of her. When the members of the council, however, were informed that a convent was founded, for which they had not purposed to grant a license, they became very angry, and not finding the governor at home — as, after granting the license, he had started on a journey — they went to the house of a certain canon of the church whom I had privately informed of the matter, and told him how much they were astonished at the boldness of a silly woman who, against their wishes, had founded a religious house. He answered as if he were ignorant of the matter, and endeavoured to appease them as well as he could, saying, that I had done the same elsewhere, and that I certainly could not have acted without authorization. Some days after they sent me an excommunication, and forbade mass to be performed till I had produced the authority by which I acted. Accordingly I requested Don Pedro Manrique to go and explain matters, and shew them my license. This he did, and so satisfied them.”

Only fifteen days after the foundation of the house at Toledo, S. Theresa received an offer from the Princess of Eboli, wife of Ruy Gomez and mistress to Philip II., to found a house at Pastrana. On her way, she stayed at Oct. ij.] S. Theresa.

Madrid in a convent of Franciscan nuns, and heard of two hermits, Mariano de San Benito, and a young man, Juan de la Miseria, who occupied a cell at Pastrana, which had been given them by Ruy Gomez. These hermits were desirous of joining the reform established by S. Theresa, and she sent for Father Antonio from Mancera to instruct them. At the same time an old priest, Baltazar de Jesus, joined them, and she was thus enabled to establish at Pastrana a second monastery for Discalced'friars of the Carmelite Order. S. Theresa spent three months with the Princess of Eboli, who wanted to make conditions concerning the new convent, which Theresa felt were inconsistent with the spirit of her reform. At last Ruy Gomez interfered, and a compromise was effected.

The convent thus established was favoured by the Princess till the death of her husband, when, in a fit of compunction, she entered the house; but the severity of the rules did not suit her, and she left it in a huff, and thenceforth showed great spite against the nuns. This became so intolerable, that S. Theresa removed them to Segovia, where she had recently founded another establishment.

In 1570, S. Theresa founded another house of her order at Salamanca. She obtained from a pious man of that city the gift of a house, but it was not empty at the time, being occupied by students of the university. The students were, however, turned out at a few hours' notice. “ They left it that same evening, yea, that very night, and we entered immediately. The students, having little or no regard to cleanliness, had, as I found, left the house in such a mess, that we spent the whole night in cleaning it. My companions and myself remained alone in that house on All Hallows' Eve. I tell you, that when I remember the fears of my companion, whose name was Maria de Sacramento, I am inclined to laugh. The house was very large and in great disorder, and contained many garrets. She could not help thinking of the students, because they had left the house with great reluctance, and suspecting that some of them had hidden themselves in the place — a thing they might have done easily. We shut ourselves up in a room where there was some straw, and that night we had two coverlets which had been lent us. When my companion saw herself in this room she was more composed about the students, though she did nothing but look round, first on this side and then on that, with much fear. Once I asked her what she was looking so fixedly at. She answered, ‘ I am only thinking, were I to die here, what would you do alone in this house with a corpse?’ She did, I admit, give me a scare at this thought, for dead bodies always give me a pain in my heart, even when I am not alone. Bells rang in the night, for it was the vigil of All Saints, and increased my alarm. However, I answered, ‘When this happens, sister, I will consider about it; at present, let us go to sleep.* As we had had two bad nights, sleep soon banished our fears. Next day some more nuns came, and then our fears were at an end.” Her next foundations were those of Our Lady at Alva (1571), S. Joseph’s at Segovia, S. Joseph’s at Veas (1573), and a house with the same dedication at Seville (1575). In the meantime, Pope Pius V. had appointed Apostolic Visitors to inquire into the relaxations which had crept into the religious orders, and Pedro Fernandez, a Dominican, was nominated visitor of the Carmelites in Castile. In pursuance of his office he came to Avila, and found great fault with the convent of the Incarnation. He sent for S. Theresa, and insisted on her assuming the office of prioress of this house, so as to restore the discipline in it. S. Theresa, before doing so, solemnly made profession of her devotion to the unmitigated rule, and her renunciation of all those relaxations which had been allowed by the Holy See. This declaration •S'. Theresa.

she wrote out and signed on the 3rd of July, 1571. The introduction of Theresa as prioress into the convent of the Incarnation caused a commotion among the sisters. “ The nuns stoutly opposed her, and vomited forth all the insults that malice could suggest. Moreover, the chief men and some of the inhabitants of the city took their side. Now when the provincial had summoned them into the choir, and had read the letters authorizing his proceeding, those sisters who were for a severer life, and some of the more religious of those present, snatched up the cross and tried to impose it on Theresa; the friars also forcibly drew her towards her stall. Then those who were opposed lifted up their voices and filled the whole church with lamentations and cries. The first party with great exultation began to shout a Te Deum, as an act of thanksgiving, but the other party burst forth into loud contumely against her.” 1 Then the saint addressed the assembled nuns, and by her tact and conciliatory manner gradually overcame the hostility which was aroused against her, and induced the nuns to adopt the changes she fished to introduce. Her address has been fortunately preserved. “ My mistresses,” said she, probably with that pleasant smile on her face which those who have described her appearance mention as so winning, “ Mothers and sisters to me, God has sent me into this house to fulfil a certain work in it, a task which I must obey, but which I never sought and never deserved. This appointment is to me most serious, not only because a burden has been laid upon me which I am not able to bear, but also because the right of choosing your own prioress has been taken from you; you are deprived thereby of a liberty you have hitherto invariably exercised, and a prioress is imposed upon you against your will, and towards whom you manifest repugnance. But I assure you I have come here only to serve you in all things, and so far as I am able to adapt myself to you. And I trust that in this matter God will assist me greatly, for in other points there is not one of you who could not teach and reform me. Therefore see, my mistresses, whether I do not deserve well of you, for indeed, I would gladly shed my blood to be of service to you. I am a daughter of this house and the sister of you all. I have made acquaintance with the abilities and the necessities of most, if not all, of you, and there is consequently no reason why you should be strangers towards her who is properly your own. Do not fear my rule. Although hitherto I have lived among and have governed the Discalceate, yet I know how, by God’s mercy, to rule also those who are not Discalceate. One thing I desire, that we may altogether walk before God in sweet concord, and strive, as best we may, to observe those few rules which we find in our constitutions, and which we have undertaken to keep for God’s sake, to whom we owe so much. I know truly our own weakness, and if we cannot reach to lofty perfection by our works, let us at least strive for it with our hearts’ desires, and then, may be, God will bring the desire to good effect.” The health of S. Theresa was at this time indifferent. She complains in a letter (March 7th, 1572) of having suffered from quartan ague, and pains in her side, the latter no doubt arising from hysteria. She was bled thrice. She also suffered from tooth-ache, one of the most trying of maladies to the temper. About the same time also she had returns of her visions. One day when she was communicating, the priest, instead of giving her a whole host, broke it in half, and gave her half, and the other half to another communicant. S. Theresa felt rather nettled at this, for she was convinced that the priest had done it, not because he was short of hosts, but in order to administer a reproof to her. However, oui Lord appeared to her, and said, “Fear not, daughter, for.S\ Theresa.

none shall be able to separate Me from thee.” Then stretching out his right hand in which he held a nail, “ Behold this nail,” he said. “ Receive it in token that henceforth thou shalt be My bride. Hitherto thou hast not deserved this, but from this time forward thou shalt bear the care of My honour, not only as thy Creator, King, and God, but as thy true and very husband. My honour is in your hands, and your honour in Mine.” This incident is a favourite one with artists.

At the end of three years, S. Theresa left the Convent of the Incarnation for her own convent of S. Joseph, in the same city of Avila. A brooding quarrel now broke out between the Calceate and Discalceate members of the Carmelite Order.

In 1571 or 1572, some religiously disposed men in Andalusia had joined the Reform of S. Theresa, and Francis Vargas, the apostolic visitor in Andalusia, desiring to find a house for them, turned the Calceate friars out of the small monastery of S. John at Porto, between Elepla and Guelva, and gave it to those of the stricter obedience. Moreover, he appointed Father Geronimo Gratian, son of the king’s secretary, who had taken the habit a couple of years before, to be commissary apostolic to the friars and nuns of the Discalceate Reform. Hitherto all those of the Reform had been subject to the provincial of the relaxed rule, and the fathers of the mitigated rule took every means of hindering the progress of the Reform. “ Those of the Discalceate who were able to govern were not approved or supported. In every house they did as they liked, and until they were governed by one of themselves, had to endure great troubles; for some liked one thing, others liked another, and this condition of aflairs gave me great pain.”

Father Augustin Suarez, provincial of the Carmelites in Andalusia, was very angry at the expulsion of those of the relaxed rule from S. John at Porto, and as soon as he was able, he restored the house to the Calceates, and insisted on those who remained in the house resuming their shoes, and adopting the dispensation from the strict observance of the rule accorded them by Papal brief.

Father Geronimo Gratian went to the Archbishop of Seville, who offered him rooms in his own palace, and showed a lively interest in the Reform. Encouraged by this sympathy, Gratian sought S. Theresa in Veas, and urged her to found a house in Seville.

“ We immediately began to make preparations for the journey. We started in waggons, closely covered, I having with me Father Julian d* Avila, Antonio Gaietan, and a Discalceate friar. When we came to an inn, we took a chamber, good or bad, as it chanced, and a sister was placed at the door to receive what we stood in need of. The father who came with us did not reside there. By making haste we arrived at Seville the Thursday before Trinity Sunday, having endured extreme heat on the road; for I tell you, sisters, that when the sun poured his rays on the waggons it was like purgatory. Sometimes we consoled ourselves by thinking of hell, or by considering that we were suffering for God; for the six nuns who went with me were such good souls that I would willingly have ventured among the Moors [the Muslims of North Africa and Spain] with them.

“ Having to pass by boat over the Guadalquivir, it was impossible at the same time to follow the rope for conveying over the waggons; but we were obliged to wind about the river, though the rope was of some little help to us. But it happened, how I knew not, that those who were holding the rope on the other side let it go, so that the boat went down the river without oars or rope. But our men laid hold of the rope, and, with all their strength, tried to stop it; the stream, however, was so strong, that they were thrown down. All S. Theresa.

then cried out, and we said our prayers. The boatman excited my compassion so, that I thought more of him than of the danger, he seemed in such grievous trouble; his son also, a boy of about eleven, edified me greatly, he was so concerned at his father’s distress. A gentleman, marking our danger from his castle, sent help; but the boat upset in a shallow place where there was a sand-bank. It was now dark, and we should not have found our way had not the man from the castle guided us. But a much greater trouble happened on the last day of the octave of Pentecost. We had made haste to reach Cordova in the morning, so as to hear mass without being seen; and for the more secrecy, we were directed to a church beyond a bridge. In order, however, to pass over, we were obliged to have a license from the governor, and this we had not obtained, and we had to wait two hours, till the governor was out of bed. In the meantime, several people came round the waggons to peep at who was inside. This, however, did not much concern us, as we were too well concealed to be at all visible. But when the license arrived, it was found that the waggons were too wide to pass through the bridge gate, and we were obliged to have the wheels sawn, and so another hour was wasted. At length, when we arrived at the church where Father Julian d’ Avila was to say mass, we found it full of people. When I saw this, I thought it would be better for us to depart without hearing mass; but Father Julian thought otherwise, and as he was a theologian, we followed his opinion. We alighted near the church, and though no one could see our faces, because we always wore large veils, yet the fact of being seen with them, and with the white mantles we wear, together with our sandals, was sufficient to excite curiosity and some commotion. This gave me palpitation of the heart, and therewith my fears vanished, which was a great relief to me and to everyone else. On entering the church, a good man met us, and offered to make a way for us through the crowd. I begged him to lead us to a little side chapel, and he did so; he locked the chapel door, and did not leave us till we went out of the church. I assure you, my daughters, that this was one of the worst difficulties I ever met with.” In Seville, S. Theresa found great difficulty in founding her house, as the archbishop was cool, and perhaps annoyed at her having arrived without previous notice being given to him. A brother of the saint arrived at this time from the Indies, where he had spent thirty-five years, and he very energetically took up the cause of his sister; a suitable house was found for her convent, and the archbishop consented to her entering it, and having mass said in it; nay, more, he at last agreed to have a solemn translation to the chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, in which he himself took part. “ The archbishop commanded all his clergy to attend, and some confraternities, and that the streets should be adorned with tapestry. Garcia Alvarez decorated our cloisters, then a public thoroughfare, and also the church, erecting many beautiful altars, and planning many curious devices. Among them was a fountain of orange-flower water, which created great devotion. The music was good, and so many wind instruments were used, that the prior of the Carthusians assured me he had never seen such a ceremony before in Seville, so that evidently it was the work of God. He walked in the procession, which he was not accustomed to do, and the archbishop placed the most holy Sacrament in the chapel. Great crowds of people came to the chapel. A remarkable thing happened. As there were discharges of artillery and fireworks, some of the powder caught fire, and a great flame went up to the top of the cloisters; they were hung with tapestry, but though everyone thought that the tapestry must be reduced to ashes, little or no damage was done; the tapestry was crimson and yellow. But what Oct ijJ S. Theresa.

caused the wonder was that the stones of the arches were black with smoke, while the tapestry was not in the least injured.” S. Theresa thought the devil had fired the gunpowder in his wrath, and that the tapestry was miraculously saved.

In 1576, S. Theresa founded the Convent of Caravaca. “ Before I left Seville, after a general chapter had been held, there came a command from the chapter, not only that I should found no more convents, but also that I should choose one and live in it, without going out of it on any pretext, and this would be shutting me up in prison. The Father General was displeased with me without any just reason, and serious accusations were moreover made against me.”

The matter looked serious. A Brief had been obtained from Pope Gregory XIII., dated April 15, 1575, requiring the holding of a General Chapter of the Order for the consideration of the observance of the rule, as it contained this significant paragraph: — “ If any have been elected, and have assumed office, and have erected and have inhabited, and still inhabit, convents or other places against the will of their superiors, let them be deposed and removed from their offices and administrations; and all who separate themselves, give scandal, are contentious, troublesome, and rebellious, shall be brought to order by ecclesiastical censures and penalties, and other wholesome legal remedies, the secular arm being invoked against them if need be.” On the strength of this, the Council General of the Carmelite Order in Spain, assembled at Placentia, passed severe decrees against the Discalceate Carmelites who had founded convents and monasteries in Castile. “ The reverend provincials, and all other governors and rectors of provinces and convents, are required, under pain of excommunication and of deposition, to remove and cast down those who informally have been elected, or have assumed office; and because many of them are disobedient, rebellious, and contumacious — to wit, those called vulgarly the Discalceates — against the patents and statutes of the General Prior, and live outside of the province of Old Castile, namely in Granada, Seville, and La Penuela, nor are willing humbly to accept the mandates and letters of the General Prior, but produce equivocations, cavils, and tergiversations; it shall be signified to the aforesaid Discalceate Carmelites, that, unless within three days from hence they yield, the secular arm, if necessary, shall be called to assist in constraining them to submit to the apostolic censures. And that whosoever shall continue opposition shall be severely punished, and cited to appear personally before us. Moreover, it is decreed that all Carmelites of the first rule, vulgarly called Discalceate, shall be removed from all their convents which they have obtained beyond the province of Castile, and also, that if any such shall seek to be received in Castile contrary to the patents and institutions of the Reverend Father General, they shall be excluded and rejected.”

The General of the Order, Father Rubens, sent Father Germino Tostado as his visitor through Spain to enforce this edict, and for this purpose he was to press on the king the necessity of rooting out the Discalceate reformers. Father Antonio of S. Joseph, says, “This Tostatus came from Rome to Spain laden with faculties against the Discalceate, as Saul went from Jerusalem to Damascus against the primitive Christians, but with different thoughts and intentions; for we must always suppose that he acted from a purpose for the greater glory of God. However, he certainly came with briefs and mandiments, 1 that if he found any of this way, whether men or women, he might have them bound/ to be punished.”

5". Theresa. S. Theresa in her distress wrote a letter to the general, which has been preserved, in which she appeals for mercy for her Reform, and excuses Fathers Gratian and Mariano, who were threatened. But she had no intention of submitting. She says: “ Many learned persons to whom I confessed, and whose advice I sought, would not consent to my desisting; at the same time it was a kind of death to me to go against the will of my superior. The truth is, that though I wished to please him in this matter, I could not, because there were vicars apostolic whom I was bound to obey.” In a word, she found that she could hold out by opposing the authority of Father Gratian, whom Vargas had nominated visitor to the Carmelite Order for Andalusia, to that of the general and chapter of the Order.

Unfortunately for S. Theresa, at this time the Papal nuncio died. “ He was a holy man, a great lover of virtue, and a sincere friend of the Discalced fathers. Another succeeded him, who it seems was sent to exercise us in sufferings; he was in some way related to the Pope, and though doubtless a servant of God, he took great pleasure in favouring the fathers of the mitigated rule, and acting on the information they gave him of us, he decided it was better that these beginnings should proceed no further, and accordingly he began to execute his plan with extreme rigour, condemning, imprisoning, and banishing all whom he thought were disposed to resist him. Those who suffered most were Father Antonio of Jesus, and Father Geronimo Gratian; with the latter and with Father Mariano of San Benito he was most displeased. He forbade them under pain of heavy censures from undertaking or managing any business. He appointed a father of the mitigated rule to visit the monasteries both of nuns and friars, and had he succeeded in his purpose, it would have been a great affliction to us. As it was, we suffered severely, as one knowing better than I how to speak could tell. I was regarded as the cause of all this trouble, and if I could have been flung into the sea, as Jonah was, the tempest would have been stayed. But it so happened that our Catholic king, Don Philip, heard of what had taken place, and having been informed of the life and virtues of the Discalced fathers, he took up our cause so warmly that he would not allow the nuncio alone to judge our cause, but appointed four others in addition, sensible men, three of whom were religious, to examine our case. Although many great men in the kingdom and many bishops had taken pains to acquaint the nuncio with the truth, yet all would have availed but little had not God made use of the king as his instrument.”

The interference of the king gave the matter another complexion. One of the commissioners he appointed was Father Pedro Fernandez, who had been visitor of the Carmelite Order in the province of Castile, a man well disposed towards the Theresian reform.

For some time S. Theresa had employed Father Didacus Yepes as her confessor and director, but there came to Toledo a certain Dr. Alphonso Velasquez, and the saint conceived a lively desire of making him her confessor instead of Yepes. Her wish was seconded by an apparition of our Lord, who said to her, “ My daughter, I want you to adopt Doctor Velasquez as your confessor.” In fact Father Yepes had been somewhat remiss in attending to her, he was superaaturally detained, as he afterwards asserted, from going to her whenever she sent for him. Alphonso Velasquez became the most devoted and enthusiastic of confessors; to such an extent did he carry these sentiments, that when, shortly after, he was made Bishop of Burgo de Osma, and Theresa came to call on him, he went down on his knees to her, which made her blush redder than she had ever blushed before, as Yepes says in his life of her. S. Theresa.

Although the interference of Philip II. had saved the Discalced from being treated as heretics, to be constrained by the secular arm, it had not saved them from vexatious interference from the provincial and the nuncio. In 1577 died Isabella of the Cross, prioress of the monastery of the Incarnation at Avila, and a great contention arose about the choice of a successor. Some of the nuns wanted to elect S. Theresa, others chose Anna of Toledo, less strict in her discipline. An appeal was made to the provincial, and Tostatus the visitor came to Avila with authority to settle the contention. He immediately excommunicated all the nuns who had voted for S. Theresa, tore up their voting papers, and flung them contemptuously into the fire. The fifty-five nuns of the strict faction were forbidden not only to attend divine service, but even to set foot within the choir. Nor were they allowed to see their confessors or their relations. The forty-four more submissive nuns then elected Anna of Toledo, and the visitor ratified her appointment. The fifty-five stoutly maintained their opposition, and refused to acknowledge her authority. So the schism lasted for three or four months, till S. Theresa, having declared she would not return to “that Babylon,” the monastery of the Incarnation, the nuns submitted to Anna of Toledo.1 Nor were the Discalced fathers treated much better. At Toledo, John of the Cross was cudgelled twice, and dressed in rags, and brought before Tostatus, along with Father Germanus, bleeding at the mouth from the cruel treatment he had undergone by the Prior Maldonatus, and they were both shut up as prisoners in different monasteries. S. Theresa wrote to the king to complain, in a letter dated December 4th, 1577, and Tostatus was obliged to exhibit his hostility in less overt acts of violence. The apostolic nuncio was, however, no less antagonistic: he deposed Father Gratian from his office conferred on him by the former nuncio, and had his books rigidly examined to detect, if possible, in them occasion for preferring against him a charge of heresy. He issued orders to all the provincials to visit every convent and monastery of the Discalced, and castigate all who refused to submit, to depose the superiors and appoint others of the relaxed obedience, and to forbid the foundation of any more monasteries of the Discalced. S. Theresa consulted theologians, and obtained from them an opinion that the commands of the nuncio were invalid, as he had not shown his letters of authority. “As for Theresa,” said the nuncio, “she is a restless woman, rambling about the country, indocile and contumacious, the inventor of false doctrines, with the appearance of piety, guilty of having run away from her cloister against the commands of her superiors and the Tridentine decrees, and a despiser of the apostolic precept which forbids a woman to teach (i Tim. n. 42).”

But Theresa had powerful influences at work in her favour The father of Gratian was the king's privy secretary. Her great supporter, the Dona de la Cerda, was sister of the Duke of Medina Sidonia. Philip received urgent appeals to interfere from several sides, and on August 9th, 1575, the royal council issued a proclamation to the magistrates to forbid them to allow the nuncio to interfere with the Discalced monks and nuns, and to lend the latter the secular arm for their protection, should they have occasion to appeal to it. Encouraged by this, the Discalced took a bold step likely to widen the schism. They elected a provincial of their own, an act which proclaimed that they had broken away from the Carmelite Order of the Relaxed Rule, and claimed their own autonomy. This solution of the difficulty was obviously the best. It was approved by Philip, who induced S. Theresa.

the nuncio to confirm it, and Father Angelo de Salazar was appointed to supervise the Discalced. S. Theresa founded another house, the thirteenth of her Reformed houses, at Villa nueva de la Xasa in 1580, and in the same year her Reform received confirmation by Bull of the Pope, placing it on an independent footing, and freeing it thenceforth from interference with by the fathers of the Relaxed Rule.

“When I was at Palenda it pleased God to make a separation between the Discalced and the Calced fathers, each choosing a provincial of their own; and at the request of our Catholic king, Don Philip, a very ample brief was obtained from Rome for this purpose, and his Catholic Majesty continued to favour us much. A chapter was held in Alcala by the command of Father John de las Cuevas, then prior of the Dominican convent at Talavera, who was appointed by the Pope and nominated by his Majesty. The king paid expenses, and by his command the university favoured them greatly. The chapter was held in a college of ours, and Father Geronimo Gratian was elected provincial. The separation has given me one of the greatest pleasures and comforts I could receive in this life; for during more than twenty-five years the Order has had to endure more troubles, persecutions, and afflictions than I have space to relate. And now we are all at peace, Calced and Discalced, having no one to disturb us in the service of our Lord.” 1 S. Theresa’s fourteenth foundation was that of S. Joseph at Palenda; her fifteenth at Seria, at the request of her admiring confessor Velasquez, now Bishop of Osma (1581). After founding this house she went to Avila, where she discovered that her first foundation, that of S. Joseph, was in a sad predicament. The nuns had abandoned the severity of their rule, and had allowed themselves great reVOL. XII. 4 taxations. They were, moreover, in debt, and very badly off. S. Theresa had herself elected prioress, in the room of Maria of Christ, who resigned, and laboured, in spite of her increasing infirmities, to recover the discipline and finances of the house.

In 1582, S. Theresamade a sixteenth foundation at Granada, and had the satisfaction of seeing her Reform pass the frontiers and penetrate into Portugal. Her seventeenth foundation was at Burgos.

“ The father provincial wished to accompany us to this foundation, partly because he was not then occupied, having been preaching that Advent, partly because he wished to take care of my health on the journey, as the weather was very cold, and I was old and infirm. He thought, perhaps, that my life was of some little importance. His company was certainly a special providence of God, for the roads were such, on account of the heavy rains, that it was quite necessary for him and his companions to go forward and examine where we could pass, and help us to pull the waggons out of the ruts. At a place called the Bridges, near Buigos, the water overflowed so much that the bridges could not be seen, and we could not tell where we were going, for all round was a sheet of water, and it was very deep. It was great rashness passing this way, especially with waggons, for had they gone out of the road By ever so little all would have been lost. As it was, one waggon ran into danger. We took a guide from the nearest inn, but the company of the father provincial was a great comfort, for he took care of everything, and he was of such a mild disposition that nothing troubled him. He made light of everything except the bridges, but here even he seemed to be anxious. And who would not be alarmed on entering a world of waters without path or boat ? My companions were eight, two who were to return with me, and five who were to remain in Burgos. All 5*. Theresa.

confessed before passing the bridges, and asked my blessing, and kept repeating the creed. I forced myself to comfort them, showing no alarm, but cheerfully speaking to them thus, 1 Courage, my daughters; what greater happiness than here to become martyrs ? Let me go alone first, and if I be drowned, do not press on, but return to the inn/ It pleased the Lord that by my going first I secured the rest a passage over. But I went with a violent distemper in my throat, which came on me in my journey to Valladolid, and without my fever leaving me, so that I was in extreme pain. All got over the bridges well pleased; it is a pleasure to recall such adventures.”

The foundation at Burgos was made under difficulties. There was a misunderstanding with the archbishop, who refused to give his license, and S. Theresa had to wait some months before overcoming his objections. She left Burgos at the end of July, 1582, with Anne of S. Bartholomew and Theresa of Jesus, her niece, and went to Palencia, Medina del Campo, and Alva, which latter place she visited at the request of Maria Henriquez, Duchess of Alva, who was anxious to meet with her. There she died. The account of her death we have from the pen of her companion at the time, the Venerable Anne of S. Bartholomew. " Having arrived on our way at a little village, she found herself, at night, much exhausted, and she said to me, 1 My daughter, I feel very weak; you would do me a pleasure if you would procure me something to eat/ I had only some dry figs with me; I gave four reals to a person wherewith to buy eggs at any price, but none were to be procured. Seeing her half dead, and being in this distress, I could not contain my tears. She said to me, with angelic patience, 1 Do not afflict yourself, my daughter; God wills it, and I am content. The fig you have given me suffices/ On the morrow we arrived at Alba; our holy mother was so ill that the doctors [Oct. ij.

despaired of her recovery. I was dreadfully troubled to lose her, and especially at her dying at Alba. I was also grieved to think that I must survive her, for I was very fond of her, and she was very tender towards me; her presence was my great consolation I was with her for five days at Alva, in the greatest affliction. Two days before her death, when I was alone with her in her cell, she said to me, ‘ At last, my daughter, the time of my death is come/ These words touched me to the quick; I did not leave her for a moment, but had everything that was needed brought to me. “Father Antony of Jesus, one of the first Discalced Carmelites, seeing how tired I was, said to me on the morning of her death, ‘ Go and take a little something or other.’ But when I left the room she seemed uneasy, and looked from side to side. The father asked her if she wished me to be recalled. She could not speak, but she made a sign of assent. I therefore returned, and on my re-entering the room, she smiled, and caressed me, drawing me towards her, and placed herself in my arms. I held her thus for fourteen hours, all which time she was in the most exalted meditation, and so full of love for her Bridegroom, that she seemed as though she could not die soon enough, so greatly did she sigh for His embrace. As for me I felt the most lively pain till I saw the good Lord at the foot of the bed of the saint, in inexpressible majesty, accompanied by some saints, ready to conduct her happy soul to heaven. This glorious vision lasted the space of a credo, and entirely resigned me to the will of the Lord. I said, from the bottom of my heart, * O my God, even though I should wish to retain her on earth, I would resign her at once to Thee V I had scarcely said these words when she expired.”

Ribera gives the following account of her death: — “ At nine o’clock on the same evening she received, with great reverence and devotion, the sacrament of Extreme Unction, Oct ij.] *S. Theresa.

joining with the nuns in the penitential psalms and litany. Father Antony asked her, a little after, if she wished her body, after her death, to be taken to Avila, or to remain at Alva. She seemed displeased at the question, and only answered, ‘Am I to have a will in anything? Will they deny me here a little earth for my body ? * All that night she suffered excessive pain. Next day, at seven in the morning, she turned herself on one side, just in the posture in which the blessed Magdalen is commonly drawn by painters. Thus she remained for fourteen hours, holding a crucifix firmly in her hands, so that the nuns could not remove it till after her death. She continued in an ecstasy, with an inflamed countenance, and great composure, like one wholly taken up with internal contemplation. When she was now drawing near her end, one of the nuns, viewing her more attentively, thought she observed in her certain signs that the Saviour was talking to her, and showing her wonderful things. Thus she remained till nine in the evening, when she surrendered her pure soul into the hands of her Creator. She died in the arms of Sister Anne of S. Bartholomew, on the 4th of October, 1582; but the next day, on account of the reformation of the calendar, was the fifteenth of that month-, the day now appointed for the festival. The saint was sixty-seven years old, forty-seven of which she had passed in religion — twenty-seven in the monastery of the Incarnation, and twenty in that of S. Joseph.”

The saint’s body was honourably buried at Alva. Nine months after, on the 4th of July, 1583, the coffin was opened and the body found to be perfect and incorrupt: the face, on which earth and water had fallen through the breaking in of the coffin-lid, was discoloured and the nose injured, but otherwise in sound condition. The father provincial tried to pull her mouth open for the purpose of getting some of her teeth, but was unable to do so. He then cut off her left arm. Bishop Yepes gives the following glowing account of the condition of the corpse: — “The hairs still adhered to the wrinkles of her face. Her mouth was shut so that it could not be opened; all her fair hair remained, scarce any lost. Her breasts were full and white, for having her hands folded over them, they were saved from being stained by the water impregnated with lime. Her stomach was as entire as when she expired. That part of her body whence the arm was cut was most juicy and oily, so that from it more oil distilled than from elsewhere.”

The arm was taken to Lisbon, to a monastery of Discalced nuns lately founded there. The body was placed in a shrine, its clothes frequently renewed, the old ones being distributed as relics [the bodily remains of a saint, or objects they used, kept with honor], and slices of flesh cut off occasionally to be given to monasteries of the Theresian Reform which solicited bits of their beloved founder. These pieces of flesh, Yepes tells us, remained wherever they were, incorrupt and oily. In 1585, by a decree of the provincial chapter of the Order, held at Pastrana, the mutilated body was secretly removed to Avila. But in 1586 the Duke of Alva obtained leave of the Pope to have it brought back to Alva, and there it remains to the present day.

The body was inspected again in 1591 by the Bishop of Salamanca, and in 1594 it was removed to a more magnificent shrine, when it was found that blood or some coloured liquor exuded from the socket of the arm where it had been cut off.

In 1616 the body was again visited, and the right foot cut off. “ I, Father Didacus of S. Joseph, in the presence of the General F. Joseph of Jesus Maria, having taken a knife from the hand of the said general, and having genuflected, unworthy, and trembling at having to touch this divine treasure, I cut off the right foot of the aforesaid sacred body, from which two toes were then wanting, a little toe, and that S. Theresa.

adjoining the big toe. And the said general having received the holy relic, reverently, on his knees, he devoutly kissed it, and placed it in a magnificent reliquary prepared for it by the congregation in Italy, to be translated on a suitable occasion to Rome.”

The further mutilation of the corpse was finally forbidden by brief of Sextus V. The body was examined in 1750; this is the condition in which the pious devotion of less than two centuries had left it: “The sacred body was found entire and incorrupt, wanting only the right foot, which is venerated at Rome in our monastery of S. Maria de Scala; the left hand, which is at Lisbon; the left arm and heart, which are kept apart in two costly shrines and venerated in the convent of the Incarnation; a slice out of the upper part of the right breast, which is in our college of S. Pancras, at Rome; the left eye, some ribs, some pieces of flesh, and some bones, which have been dispersed throughout the Christian world. The rest of the body remains with flesh, skin, and bones. The head has been cut off from the trunk, and the greater part of the neck has been carried off. What remains is sound with flesh and skin, so that in the right eye both the pupil and the eyelashes are distinguishable. What is most marvellous is that the right arm is as flexible as when she was alive. But the right hand has been pulled off in bits, and only the middle bone, which is most white and beautiful, has been left with some sinews. In like manner, on the left foot, the toes and nails are quite distinct”

The body was again examined in 1 760, but it had not been further tampered with. The heart of S. Theresa, with gold crown resting on the shrivelled mass of flesh, and adoring cherubs in gold surrounding it, is exhibited behind glass in the convent at Avila. It has two gashes in it, probably made in cutting a piece out for the Milan Carmelites, but which are supposed to have been made by the fiery dart with which the angel penetrated her bowels in one of her visions; and this view is adopted and given apostolic confirmation by the Papal Acts of Beatification and Canonization. The dead dry heart is also asserted to glow with such ardour of devotion, as occasionally to break the glass bell under which it is preserved. The real cause of the breaking of the glass is, however, the contraction of the metal in which it is fixed. Lively imaginations also see figures of saints and even of the Blessed Virgin appear in the heart. One devout worshipper kneeling in adoration before her thumb saw it suddenly assume the form of the entire saint herself, with a figure of the Blessed Virgin floating above her. The reflections on the glass of objects in the chapels where these relics are exhibited no doubt occasion these fancies; it is impossible, however, not to wonder at the Bollandist fathers having deemed them worthy of insertion in their great work on S. Theresa. They are fully believed, however, by the Discalced Carmelites, and Father Emmanuel, in his Chronicle of the Order, on this account calls the heart of S. Theresa “ a certain window opening into heaven,” and adds, “ the flesh of our mother, S. Theresa, keeps, after 105 years, a marvellous and fragrant incorruption, and her heart is a miraculous mirror of Omnipotence, in which occur mysteriously and supematurally apparitions of forms.” The left arm of S. Theresa is at Lisbon, the hand at Alva. The fingers of the right hand have found their way — one to Seville, one to Rome, one to Avila, one to Paris, one to Brussels. The right foot is in Rome a slice of flesh was kindly presented to Pope Paul V. by the general of the Order in Spain, and was acknowledged in an enthusiastic letter, dated May 31, 1618. The wooden cross with which S. Theresa combated devils is also at Rome, another at 1 The Bollandists engrave a horrible picture of it. Brussels. Her slippers are exposed to the devotion of the faithful at Avila, a shoulder bone at Brussels, her staff and rosary at Avila, her veil at Cagliari; in the Carmelite church at Venice, a piece of flesh and a tooth. At Piacenza, a napkin stained with her blood is exposed to the devotion of the faithful at her festival. A molar tooth and a slice of her heart are at Milan in the Carmelite convent, the latter given by Balthazar, son of Philip IV., who wore it round his neck till he died. At Naples her scapular, a lump of flesh at Paris, another at Naples, in convents of the Order. Two large slices of flesh, highly scented,1 at Cracow.

Two or three authentic portraits of the saint exist, taken at different periods of her life. One is in the monastery of Monte Compatri, fifteen miles from Rome. In it S. Theresa is represented in her habit, at the age of sixty-three. Another original portrait is said to exist in a convent of the Order at Vienna, and the Bollandists engrave a portrait of her preserved at Avila, signed by John de la Miseria, one of the first fathers of her Rule. The following description of her person is from Ribera’s life of the saint: “ In her younger days she was of good stature and pleasing form, and of this traces remained, even till the period of her death. Her body was stout and fair, her face round and full, and of an agreeable expression; her complexion was somewhat ruddy, which during prayer was often illuminated, and shone with resplendent brightness. The whole countenance had a sweetness of expression far above nature. Her hair was black and curly, and the forehead high, regular, and beautiful. Her eyes were round and black, and slightly protruded, but not immoderately; they were well set, and of a soft and lively expression. When she laughed, they glistened and bore a charming sweetness, though when she wished to assume a digiosum spiranthim odorera.”

grave appearance her eyes spoke her thoughts. Her nose was small, but the extremity was round and somewhat prominent. It cannot be said that her mouth was either large or small; the upper lip was regular and delicately formed, but the lower a little thick and slightly bent; still there was in them something very sweet and beautiful Her teeth were also exceedingly beautiful, and her chin was remarkably fine. Her hands were small and delicately formed. “ On the left side of her face were three small moles, which added greatly to the natural beauty of her countenance. One was a little below the middle of her nose, another between the mouth and nose, and a third below the mouth. “ These particulars I received from those who for a long time enjoyed her friendship. During the saint’s lifetime, John de la Miseria took the likeness by the command of his provincial, Father Gratian. By ordering this likeness to be made, he conferred a great favour on posterity.” S. Theresa was the author of several works: 1. Her “ Life,” written in 1561 at Avila. 2. The “ Relations,” which are additions to her life, of which there are three, the first written “Way of Perfection,” written in 1563. 4. The “Interior Castle,” writtenin 1577. 5. The “Book of the Foundations,” commenced in 1573. 6. “ The Method of visiting the Convents of Discalced Nuns.” 7. “Conceptions of Divine Love,” written about 15 77* 8. “ Exclamations of the Soul to God.” 9. “ Admonitions to the Nuns.” 10. Some Hymns. 11. The “ Letters” of the saint, of these some 342, and 87 fragments have been published. 12. The “Constitutions,” drawn up by the saint for her Order.

S. Theresa is represented in Art with a flaming arrow penetrating her heart, or with the Saviour presenting to her a nail. Sometimes in biretta, with book and pen, and the Dove whispering in her ear, as a Doctor of the Church. Oct.— Part II.

.S'. Bolonia. October x6. S. Bassian, M. at Syracuse; circ. a-d. 369. S. Eliphius, M. near Tulle in France; circ. A.D. 369. S. Bolonia, V.M. at Expilly in Haute Marne; circ. a.d. 36a. S. Silvanus, M. at Akun in Haute Marche; beginning of $th cent.

SS. Martinian, Saturian, and Others, MM. in Africa; a.d. S. Junian, H. at Gembly near Limoges; arc. A.D. 500. S. Colman, B. ofKiUruadk in Ireland.

S. Gall [Irish companion of Columbanus, founder of the Swiss monastery that bears his name], H. C. at Arbon on the Lake of Constance; circ. A.D. 646. S. Bald eric, C. at Fauquemont near Rheims; 7 th cent. S. Magnobod, B. of Angers; circ. A.D. 67a S. Kiara, V. at Killrea near Corkt in Ireland; a.d. 680. S. Mummolin, B. of Noyon and Toumay; a.d. 683. S. Bkrcharius, Ab. M. at Montiers-en-Ders; a.d. 685. S. Ambrose [bishop of Milan (d. 397)], B. of Cahors; circ. a.d. 780. S. Lullus, Abp. of Mainz; a.d. 786.

S. Vitalis, H. in Brittany, at Raix; gth cent. S. Gaudkric, C. in Languedoc, 9 th cent. S. Bonita, V. at S Martin-de-Brioude in Auvergne. S. Anastasius, Mk. in France: circ. a.d. 1085. S. Bertrand, B. of Comm inges in the Pyrenees; circ. a.d. 1120.