Chapter I

How this and the other Foundations came to be made.

For five years after the foundation of St Joseph's at Avila, I lived there: and I think, as I now see, that they were the most peaceful in my life; for my soul often greatly misses the tranquillity and repose I then enjoyed.

During that time there came in to he nuns several girls, young in years, whom the world, as it seemed, held already as its own, to judge from their style of dressing and living: but the Lord drew them away quickly from those vanities and brought them to His- house, endowing them with such perfection that it covered me with confusion. They made up the number of thirteen, the number which it had been determined not to exceed. I delighted to be among souls so holy and pure, who had no other care but how to serve and praise our Lord. His Majesty sent us there, without our begging, all that we needed: and whenever we were in want, which was very seldom, their joy was the greater. It made me praise our Lord to see such high virtues, especially their disregard of everything but His service.

I, who was Superior there, never remember troubling my head about our necessities, for I held it for certain that the Lord would not fail those who had no other care but to please Him. And if sometimes, when there was not enough for us all, I said that those must have it who most needed it, each thought that she was not one, and so it went on until God sent enough for us all. As regards the virtue of obedience — which I prize most highly, although I did not know how to practise it until these servants of God taught me so that I could not fail to learn if I had any goodness in me, — I could tell of a great many things which I saw them do. Here is one which presents itself to me at this moment. One day when we were in the refectory, we were helped to cucumbers, and to me was given a very poor one, all rotten inside. To test her obedience, and without really intending it to be done, I called one of the cleverest and most sensible Sisters there, and told her to go and plant the cucumber in a little garden we had. She asked me, Was she to plant it upright or sideways? I said, Sideways. She went and planted it without its ever coming into her head that the cucumber could only decay; for doing it in obedience blinded her natural understanding so that she thought it a very reasonable thing to do. Another time I happened to give one of them six or seven incompatible pieces of work, and she accepted them in silence, esteeming it possible to do them all.

We had a well of very bad water, according to those who had tried it; and it seemed impossible to get it to flow, because it was very deep. When I sent for workmen to attempt it, they laughed at me, saying that I should be throwing away money for nothing. I asked the Sisters what they thought. One of them said, "Let us try: our Lord has to provide us with someone to bring us water and with something with which to provide him food: it would cost His Majesty less to give us water in the house, and therefore He will not fail to do so." I, considering the great confidence and boldness with which she said this, could not doubt; and I ordered the work to be done, contrary to the wish of the man who understood springs and had experience of water. And it pleased the Lord that we should lead a pipe from the well which brought us quite sufficient water, and fit to drink: and they have it still. I do not relate this as a miracle — for I could tell other things of that sort — but to shew what faith those Sisters had; for all took place just as I have told it: nor is it my first intention to praise the nuns of those monasteries; for by the Lord's goodness, they all continue like this up to the present day. And of these things and many others I could write at great length, and indeed not unprofitably, for it might sometimes animate those who come after to imitate them: but if this should be to the Lord's service, the Superiors might order the Prioresses to write it.

So I¹ miserrima was living among these angelic souls — for indeed they seemed to me nothing less — and they hid from me no fault, even of thought. The graces and great aspirations and detachment which the Lord gave them were very great. Their joy was to be in solitude, and they assured me that they never had enough of being alone; and so they disliked visits, even from their relations. The one who was able to spend most time in a hermitage thought herself the most lucky.

When I considered the strength and excellence of these souls, and the courageous spirit, certainly passing that of women, which God gave them to suffer and to serve Him, I often thought that it must be for some great purpose that the Lord committed to them such treasures. But what has since come of it never entered my mind; for there was no beginning which could have suggested the idea, and it would have seemed an impossible thing. However, as time went on, my desires to be of some good to some soul somewhere went on increasing; and I often felt like someone who is in charge of a great treasure and desires that all should benefit by it, but his hands are tied so that he cannot give it out. So it appeared to me my soul was bound; for the favours which the Lord gave it during those years were very great, and it all seemed ill bestowed upon me. With my own poor prayers I continually served the Lord, and I took pains to get the Sisters to do the same and to care for the good of souls and the increase of the Church. Everyone who had to do with them was always edified; and in this my great desires found their satisfaction.

After about four years, or I think rather more, there came to see me a Franciscan Friar, Fray Alonso Maldonado, a great servant of God. He had the same desires as I for the good of souls, and he was able to put them in practice, which made me envy him greatly. He had lately come from the Indies: and he began to tell me of the many millions of souls who were perishing there for lack of teaching, and he gave us a sermon and address exhorting us to do penance, and he went away. He left me so sorely distressed at the perdition of so many souls that I could not contain myself; I betook myself with many tears to a hermitage, and cried to our Lord, beseeching Him to grant me the means of doing something to gain some soul for His service, since the devil was carrying off so many; and that my prayer might avail something, since that was all I could give. I greatly envied those who for the love of our Lord could employ themselves in this work, even if they suffered a thousand deaths. And so it is that when we read in the lives of the saints how they converted souls, it raises in me more ardour, more emotion, and more emulation than all the martyrdoms which they suffered: for this is the disposition which the Lord has given me. And it seems to me that He values one soul which, through His mercy, we might gain for Him by our labours and prayers, more than all other services we could render Him.

Well, while I was going on in this great distress, one night when I was in prayer, our Lord appeared to me in His accustomed manner, and shewing me much affection, as though He wished to comfort me, He said, "Wait a little, my daughter, and you shall see great things." These words remained so deeply imprinted on my heart that I could not put them from me: and though for all my thinking over them I could not guess what this might be, nor see any way in whicfy to imagine it, yet they left me greatly comforted and with full assurance that those words would come true. But in what way never entered my imagination. Another half-year, I think, went by in this way; and then came to pass what I will now relate.

Footnotes

1. In the original, the words esta miserable are scratched out and yo substituted in an apparently different hand. ↩