She continues with the previous subject, and describes how the foundation of this convent of the glorious St Joseph was concluded. She speaks of the great opposition and many persecutions which the nuns had to endure after taking the habit, of the great trials and temptations which she herself underwent, and of how the Lord delivered her victoriously from them all, to His own praise and glory
AFTER leaving that city, I made a very happy journey, resolved to suffer most willingly all that the Lord might be pleased to send me. On the very night of my arrival in these parts, our patent for the convent was delivered together with the Brief from Rome. I was astonished, and so were those who knew how the Lord had hastened my coming and now saw how very necessary it had been; in fact the Lord had brought me back at the vital moment. For I found here the Bishop and that saintly friar, Peter of Alcántara, and another gentleman,1 a great servant of God, in whose house that good man was staying, and who habitually gave hospitality to God’s servants.
Together they succeeded in persuading the Bishop to sanction the foundation. This was far from easy, because it was to be founded in poverty, but he was such a friend to all whom he saw thus determined to serve God that he at once felt impelled to help us. All our success was due to the backing of this saintly old man, and to his persuasion of one after another to come to our aid. If, as I have said, I had not arrived at this juncture, I do not see how all this could have been done, for that saintly man was only here a few days – I think no longer than a week. He was extremely ill all the time, and very shortly afterwards the Lord took him to Himself. Indeed, His Majesty seems purposely to have preserved him until this business was over, for he had been a very sick man for some time – I think for more than two years.
It was all done in great secrecy; otherwise I do not think anything could have been managed at all, for the people were against it, as afterwards appeared. The Lord ordained that one of my brothers-in-law2 should fall ill while his wife was away, and that his state should be so serious that I was given leave to remain with him. This prevented anything from leaking out, though a few people must have suspected something, without, however, trusting their suspicions. The remarkable thing is that my brother-in-law’s illness only lasted so long as was useful for the negotiations. When it was necessary for him to be better, so that I might be free again and he might leave the house empty, the Lord, to his great wonderment, restored him to health.
I had a great deal of trouble in persuading one person and another to sanction the foundation. Then there was the sick man, and the workmen – for the house had to be converted very quickly for its use as a convent, and there was still a great deal to be done. My friend was not there, for it seemed to us that, for the better preservation of our secret, she ought to remain away. I saw that for many reasons everything depended on speed; and one of them was that I was in hourly fear of being sent back to my convent. I was subjected to so many trials that I wondered if these were not my cross, though it seemed a light one to me in comparison with the heavy one which I had understood from God I must bear.
When everything had been arranged, the Lord was pleased that some of the sisters should take the habit on St Bartholomew’s Day, and on that day too the Most Holy Sacrament was brought to the convent. So with full sanction and authority, this convent of our most glorious father St Joseph was founded in the year 1562. I was there myself to give the habit, with two other nuns of our own house who happened to be absent from it. As the house which thus became a convent belonged to my brother-in-law – for as I have said, it was he who purchased it in order to keep things secret – my special permission allowed me to be there. I did nothing without the approval of some learned men, so as in no way to infringe my obedience. But as they saw what a benefit this was in so many ways to the whole Order, they told me to follow my wishes, even though everything was being done in secret and was being kept from my superiors’ knowledge. Had they pointed to a single imperfection in all this, I would, I believe, have willingly given up a thousand convents, let alone one. I am certain of this; for although I desired the foundation to be made in order to withdraw more completely from activities and to fulfil my profession and vocation more perfectly under conditions of greater enclosure, I desired it only in so far as I believed the Lord would not be better served by my abandoning it. If I had thought that He would, I should have given it up with complete peace and tranquillity, as I had done before.
Well, it was like heaven to me to see the Blessed Sacrament in its place, and for us to be supporting four poor orphans, who were taken without dowry and were great servants of God. It was our aim from the beginning to accept only persons whose examples would be a basis on which we could effectively develop our scheme for a community of great perfection and true prayer, and perform a work which I believed would be for God’s service, and would honour the habit of His glorious Mother. This is what I yearned for. But I was greatly comforted also, to have done what the Lord had so firmly commanded me, and that there was now one more church in the town than there had been, dedicated to my glorious father, St Joseph. It was not that I thought I had done any part of all this myself. I never thought that, and do not think so now. I have always known that it was done by the Lord. My share in the business was so full of imperfections that I clearly deserved more blame than thanks. But it was a great joy to me to see how the Lord had made me, wicked though I was, his instrument in this grand design. I was so happy, therefore, that I was quite carried away with, the strength of my prayer.
When it was all finished – it must have been some three or four hours later – the devil plunged me into a spiritual battle once more, as I shall now relate. He suggested to me that what I had done might have been wrong, and that I might have been violating my obedience by bringing it all about without a mandate from the Provincial. It certainly occurred to me that he would be somewhat displeased at my having placed the convent under the Ordinary’s jurisdiction, without previously informing him of my intention; though, on the other hand, as he had refused me his sanction and I had not changed my plans, I had imagined that he would not care a great deal. The devil also asked me whether the sisters would be happy, living under so strict a rule, whether they might not go short of food, indeed whether the whole venture was not ridiculous – for who had made it my business, seeing that I was in a convent already? All that the Lord had commanded me, all the opinions I had been seeking and the prayers I had been making almost unceasingly for over two years – all these things were as completely blotted from my memory as if they had never been. All I remembered now was my own opinion; faith and all the virtues were suspended within me, and I had not the strength to put any of them to use or to defend myself from all these blows.
The devil also made me ask myself how I could think of shutting myself up in so strict a house, subject as I was to frequent illnesses, and how I should endure so many penances. He asked me why I had left that large and pleasant house, where I had always been so happy and had so many friends, and suggested that I might not like the nuns in the new house. He then suggested that I had taken on a big task, and might perhaps find my hopes deceived, indeed that it might have been the devil himself who had put it into my head in order to rob me of my peace and quiet Then, once I was disturbed, I should lose all power of prayer and should forfeit my soul. He suggested thoughts of this kind to me all together, and it was beyond my powers to think of anything else. At the same time my soul was plunged into such affliction, darkness and gloom that I can find no words to describe it. When I found myself in this state, even though I could not commend myself to God, I went to visit the most Holy Sacrament. I was in such anguish that I think it was like the agony of death. I did not dare to speak of it to anyone, for as yet no confessor had been appointed. O God help me, what a miserable life this is! No happiness is secure, all things are subject to change. Only such a short time ago I had thought that I would not exchange my happiness with anyone on earth, and now its very cause was so tormenting me that I did not know what to do with myself. If only we were to think carefully over the events of our lives, we should all learn by experience how little happiness or unhappiness we really derive from it. This was certainly one of the worst periods I have ever known; my soul seems to have had a premonition of all the sufferings that were in store for me; yet, bad though these were, a prolongation of the state that I was then in would have been worse. But the Lord did not allow His poor servant to suffer long; in none of my tribulations has He ever failed to come to my aid. He did so in this one, by casting me a ray of light which showed me that this was the devil’s work. Then I recognized the truth and knew that it was all an attempt to scare me with lies. Then I began to remember my grand resolutions to serve the Lord and my desires to suffer for Him. I realized that if I meant to carry them out I must not go about looking for repose, that to withstand trials was the way to win merit, and that unhappiness endured in God’s service would serve me for purgatory. I asked myself what I was afraid of. I had demanded trials, and now I had them; and the greater the opposition the greater the gain. Why did I lack courage then to serve Him to whom I owed so much? Having gained control over myself with the help of these and other reflections, I vowed before the Most Holy Sacrament that I would do everything in my power to obtain permission to enter the new house and that, if I could do so with a good conscience, I would make a vow of enclosure.
The moment I had made this vow, the devil fled, leaving me quiet and happy; and so I remained, as I have done ever since. I find all the rules of enclosure, penance, and the rest that we observe in this house extremely sweet and easy. Indeed, I am so very happy that I sometimes wonder whether I could possibly have chosen any place on earth more delightful. I do not know whether this may not have played some part in the improvement of my health, which has been better here than ever before; perhaps, since it is right and necessary that I should do all that the others do, the Lord has been pleased to make this possible for me as a consolation that costs me some effort. But all those who know of my infirmities are astonished that I can keep the Rule. Blessed be He who gives everything, and by whose power this can be done.
This conflict left me quite exhausted, but I laughed at the devil, for I clearly saw that it was his doing. Since I have never known what it is to be discontented with the religious life even for one moment in the twenty-eight years and more that I have been a nun, I believe that the Lord permitted this trial in order to show me what a great favour He had done me in this, and from what tortures He had delivered me, also in order that if ever I were to see anyone in this state, I should be sorry for her and know how to console her. After dinner, when this turmoil was over, I tried to get a little rest. I had scarcely had any peace all night, and for several nights previously I had been continuously worried and disturbed, so that I had been tired every day. When what we had done became known in the convent and about the town, there was, for the reasons I have already given, a considerable commotion – not, as I thought, without some cause. Then the Superior sent for me to appear before her immediately; and when I received her order, I went at once, leaving my nuns in a great upset. I knew well enough that there was plenty of trouble awaiting me, but as the thing was done now I did not care much about that. I offered up a prayer, imploring the Lord to help me, and begged my father, St Joseph, to bring me back to his house. I offered what I should have to suffer to God, very happy that I had some suffering to offer Him and some way in which to serve Him. I went in the belief that they would immediately put me in the prison cell; which would, I think, have been a great joy to me, since I should have had nobody to speak to and should have been able to rest for a while alone. For I needed some solitude very badly and all this dealing with people had quite worn me out.
When I arrived and gave the Superior my account of the affair, she was a little mollified, and they all sent for the Provincial,1 to put the case before him. When he came, I went to receive the judgement, very happy to find myself suffering for the Lord. I did not believe that I had offended in any way either against His Majesty or against the Order. On the contrary, I had been trying with all my might to strengthen the Order, and would gladly have given my life for that cause. All my desire was that its Rule should be observed with all perfection. But I remembered Christ’s trial, and realized the triviality of my own. I acknowledged my fault as if I had been very much to blame, and I must have appeared guilty to anyone who did not know all my reasons. The Provincial gave me a severe rebuke, but he was not so sharp as my crime deserved according to the report of it that many people had given him. I did not care to excuse myself; I had already resolved not to do so. I merely begged him to forgive me and punish me, but to be angry with me no longer. I saw quite well that in some respects they were condemning me unjustly. For they told me that I had done everything in order to be well thought of, and to make a name for myself, and so on. But I was well aware that in other respects they were in the right when they said that I was wickeder than the other nuns, and when they asked me how, having failed to observe the many rules that were kept in my own house, I could consider keeping a stricter discipline in another. They said that I was scandalizing the people, and introducing new ideas. None of this disturbed or troubled me in any way, though I made a show of feeling it for fear that I might appear to be taking what they said to me lightly. Finally I was commanded to put my version of the case before the nuns, and I had to do so.
As I was inwardly quiet and the Lord helped me, I put up such a defence that neither the Provincial nor the nuns who were present saw any reason to condemn me. Afterwards, when I was alone with him, I explained things to him more plainly, and he was quite satisfied. He promised me that, if my foundation succeeded, he would give me permission to move, once the town was quiet. For there had been a great commotion in the place, as I shall now relate.
Two or three days before there had been a meeting between the Mayor and some of the Councillors and the Chapter, and they had all agreed that the new convent must on no account be sanctioned. They decided that it would do notable harm to the community, that the Most Holy Sacrament must be removed from it and that things must on no account go any further. They called together representatives of the Orders – two learned men from each – to give their opinions. Some said nothing, others condemned the foundation, and finally they decided that it must be broken up immediately. One alone, a Prior of the Order of St Dominic,1 was not opposed to the convent, though he objected to its poverty. He said that there was no reason for a dissolution, that the question should be carefully examined, that there was plenty of time for that, that it was the Bishop’s business, and other things of this kind. This did a great deal of good; for, to judge by their fury, we were lucky that they did not dissolve us out of hand. But the fact was that the convent was destined to be; its foundation was the Lord’s will and, all together, they could do very little against that. They stated their arguments and showed great zeal; and so, without committing any offence against God, they made me suffer – and all those who favoured our project as well. There were many of them now, and they all sustained a good deal of persecution.
The town was in such a turmoil that people were talking of nothing else. Everyone condemned me, and went to see the Provincial, and visited my convent. I felt no more distressed by all that they said about me than if they had said nothing at all, but I was afraid that the dissolution might take place. This fear did distress me, and so did the fact that the people who were helping me were losing credit and suffering great trials. I think that what they said about me made me rather glad. If I had had a little faith, I should not have wavered at all, but the slightest failing in a single virtue is enough to benumb all the rest. I was very much troubled during those two days when they were holding the meetings I have spoken of in the town, and once when I was quite exhausted the Lord asked me, ‘Do you not know that I am powerful? What are you afraid of?’ and He assured me that the foundation would not be dissolved. I was greatly comforted by this. The information taken was sent to the Royal Council, and an order came back for a full account of the whole matter.
Here we were at the beginning of a grand lawsuit. The city sent representatives to the Capital, and the convent would have to do so as well. But there was no money, and I did not know what to do. However, the Lord provided, and my Father Provincial never ordered me to withdraw. He was such a lover of every good cause that, though he did not help us, he would not stand in our way. But he did not give me permission to move here until he saw what the outcome was going to be. So these servants of God were left on their own. But they did more with their prayers than I with all my negotiations, though the affair demanded my utmost diligence. Sometimes everything seemed to be going wrong; particularly on a certain day before the arrival of the Provincial, when the Prioress ordered me to give the whole project up and to have nothing more to do with it. I turned to God and said: ‘Lord, this house is not mine; it was made for You. Now there is no one to manage its business, so Your Majesty must do it.’ After this I was as calm and untroubled as if I had the whole world conducting my negotiations for me. From that moment I felt quite sure of the outcome.
A priest, who was a very great servant of God and a lover of all perfection,1 and who had always helped me, went to the Capital to undertake the negotiations and worked very hard for us. That saintly gentleman whom I have already spoken of did a great deal in the matter also, and helped us in every way. This cost him great trials and persecutions. But he always behaved like a father to me, as he does still. The Lord implanted such fervour in our helpers that each one of them regarded the cause as if it were his own and as if his own life and honour were at stake, though it really had nothing to do with them except in so far as they believed it to be of service to God. It seemed clear that His Majesty was assisting that priest whom I have mentioned before,2 and who was another of my principal helpers. It was he whom the Bishop sent as his representative to one of the great meetings that were called. Here he stood alone against all the rest, and eventually mollified them by suggesting certain measures which could have formed the basis of an agreement. But this was not enough to bring them round immediately; they had staked their all, as they say, on breaking us up. It was this servant of God who had given us the habit and reserved the Most Holy Sacrament for us, and he was sorely persecuted for it. This attack upon us lasted for almost six months, and to relate in detail all the heavy trials we endured would be a long business.
I was astonished at all the trouble the devil was taking about a few poor women, and at the universal belief that a mere dozen sisters and a Prioress – for I must remind those who opposed us that this was to be our number – would do such harm to the town whilst living so strictly. If there had been anything wrong or mistaken about the plan, it would have affected them alone. There was no possible way in which the town could be damaged, and yet our opponents saw all sorts of dangers in it, and so fought us with a good conscience. Eventually they said that they would allow the scheme to go forward if we would accept an endowment. By now I was worn out, less by my own trials than by all those that I saw our helpers to be enduring. It did not seem to me a bad idea, therefore, to accept some money until things calmed down, and to give it up afterwards. At other times I would wonder, wicked and imperfect woman that I am, whether it was not the Lord’s wish that we should have an endowment, seeing that we could not go ahead without one. So in the end I agreed to this arrangement.
The discussion of the terms had already begun, and a settlement was to be made next day, when the Lord told me during my night prayers that I must agree to no such thing. He said, amongst other things, that once we had an endowment we should never be allowed to give it up. On the same night that blessed friar Peter of Alcántara, who was now dead, appeared to me. Knowing what great resistance and persecution we were encountering, he had written to me before his death to say how pleased he was that the foundation was being heavily opposed, since all these efforts that the devil was making to prevent the foundation were a sign that great service would be rendered to the Lord in the new convent. He had added that I must on no account accept any revenue, and had stressed this two or three times in the course of his letter, assuring me that if I insisted on this point, everything would turn out as I wished. I had seen him twice already since his death in a state of great glory, and so I was not afraid. Indeed his appearance made me very happy, for he always came in his glorified body, full of great bliss, and it made me most blissful to see him. I remember that the first time I saw him he told me, amongst other things, of the greatness of his joy, and said how fortunate it had been that he had performed the penances he had, since they had won him so great a reward.
As I think I have already said something about this, I will only observe here that this time he spoke to me with some severity, saying that I must on no account accept an endowment, and asking why I would not take his advice. Then he immediately disappeared, leaving me astounded. Next day I told that gentleman what had happened, for I used always to resort to him as the person who had helped us most. I instructed him on no account to agree to the endowment, but to let the suit continue. He had been much stronger on this point than I, and was highly delighted; he afterwards told me how reluctantly he had agreed to the compromise.
Then another person came forward, a great and most zealous servant of God, who suggested that, the issue now being clear, it should be referred to some learned men. This caused a good deal of uneasiness. Some of my helpers agreed to the idea, but this new tangle in which the devil had involved us was the most difficult of all to unravel. The Lord helped me throughout, but it is impossible in this short narrative to describe all that happened between the beginning of the foundation and its completion. The last half-year and the first were the most difficult.
When the city was somewhat calm, the Dominican prior who was helping us1 acted very skilfully on our behalf. He had not been here before, but the Lord brought him at a most opportune time for us, and His Majesty seems to have done so for this purpose alone, since, as he told me afterwards, he had had no reason for coming and had only by chance heard of our plight. He stayed here as long as was necessary, and when he left he somehow managed – impossible though it may seem that he could have done so in so short a time – to get our Father Provincial to give me leave to come to this house. I was permitted to bring some other nuns with me also, so that we might recite the Office and instruct the sisters who were already there. The day of our coming was a most joyful day for me. While I was praying in the church before entering the convent, I fell into an almost complete rapture and saw Christ, who seemed to receive me with great love, place a crown on my head, and thank me for what I had done for His mother. On another occasion, after Compline, when we were all praying in the choir, I saw Our Lady in the greatest glory, clothed in a white robe, beneath which she seemed to be sheltering us all. I saw this as a sign of the high degree of glory to which the Lord would raise the nuns of this house.
Once we began to recite the Office in our convent, the people began to be very devoted to the place. More nuns were received, and the Lord began to move those who had persecuted us most to show us great favour and give us alms. In this way they marked their approval of what they had hitherto condemned so strongly, and gradually they let the lawsuit lapse, saying that now they realized this was a work of God, since His Majesty had been pleased to make it prosper in the teeth of so much opposition. Now there is no one who thinks it would have been right to abandon the scheme, and so they make a great point of providing us with alms. We make no appeals and ask nobody for anything, but the Lord inspires them to send us money. So we get along very well, and do not lack for necessities; and I trust in the Lord that we never shall. As the sisters are few I am sure His Majesty will never fail them so long as they do their duty, as at present He is giving them the grace to do. I am sure they will never need to be a burden or a bother to anyone, for His Majesty will continue to take care of them as He does at present. It is the greatest joy to me to find myself among such detached souls.
Their occupation is to learn how to advance in God’s service. Solitude is their delight and they dislike the mere thought of seeing anyone, even a close relative, unless the meeting will help to kindle their love of the Bridegroom. So no one comes to this house except for that purpose, and it would be no pleasure to themselves or to the sisters if they did. Their sole conversation is of God, and they understand no one who speaks of anything else, nor do those others understand them. We observe the Rule of Our Lady of Carmel, and it is kept without any relaxation, in the form drawn up by Friar Hugo, Cardinal of Santa Sabina, and published in 1248, the fifth year of the reign of Pope Innocent IV.
All the trials that we have suffered will, I believe, have been to good purpose. True, the Rule is rather strict; meat is never eaten except in cases of necessity, there is an eight months’ fast, and there are other ascetic practices, as can be seen from the primitive Rule. Yet this comes very easily to the sisters, and we follow certain other practices in addition, which we have thought it necessary to make for the more perfect observance of our Rule. I trust in the Lord that what we have begun will prosper, as He told me it will.
The Lord also showed favour to that other house which was established by the holy woman of whom I have spoken.1 It was founded in Alcalá, where it had no lack of heavy opposition, nor did it escape severe trials. I know that all religious observances are kept there, in accordance with this primitive rule of ours. God grant that all may be to His own glory and praise, and to that of the glorious Virgin whose habit we wear. Amen.
I think that your Reverence will be weary of this long history of our convent, though when you think of the many trials and marvels that I have described, it may well seem short. For the Lord has been at work here, as many witnesses will be able to testify. So I beg you, sir, even if you think fit to tear up all the rest of these writings, at least to preserve this part which concerns our convent. Then, after my death, it should be given to the sisters here, for it will be a great encouragement to our successors. It will stimulate them in the service of God, and prevent this work that we have begun from falling into decay. In fact when they see what importance His Majesty must have attached to its foundation, since He was willing to use such a poor and wicked creature as myself as His instrument, it will go steadily forward. The particular favour which the Lord has graciously shown to our house convinces me that any attempt to relax the perfect Rule that He has initiated here will not only be a great wrong but will be severely punished by God. For He has countenanced its introduction and it works smoothly. In fact it is quite plain that it is not only tolerable but pleasant to carry out, and most suitable for perpetual observance by those who wish to enjoy the company of their Bridegroom, Christ, in solitude. For this must always be the sole aim of our nuns: to be alone with Him. They will never be more than thirteen, for after collecting many opinions I have come to the conclusion that this is the best number. Moreover I have learnt by experience that if we are to preserve our present spirituality, live on alms, and make no appeals, we can admit no more. May they always believe one who with great labour, and with the help of many people’s prayers, contrived to arrange things for the best. That this is the best arrangement is proved by our great joy and gladness and the rareness of our trials during the years that we have been in this house, also by our health, which is much better than before. If any nun thinks our Rule harsh, she should blame her own lack of spirituality and not our observance. It can be borne with ease by people who are not at all strong but really delicate, so long as they have the necessary spirituality. Those who have not should go to some other convent, where they will find salvation according to their own spiritual natures.