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A long time after the Lord had granted me
many of the favours which I have described, together with other very great
ones, I was at prayer one day when suddenly, without knowing how, I found
myself, as I thought, plunged right into hell. I realized that it was the
Lord's will that I should see the place which the devils had prepared for
me there and which I had merited for my sins. This happened in the
briefest space of time, but, even if I were to live for many years, I
believe it would be impossible for me to forget it. The entrance, I
thought, resembled a very long, narrow passage, like a furnace, very low,
dark and closely confined; the ground seemed to be full of water which
looked like filthy, evil-smelling mud, and in it were many wicked-looking
reptiles. At the end there was a hollow place scooped out of a wall, like
a cupboard, and it was here that I found myself in close confinement. But
the sight of all this was pleasant by comparison with what I felt there.
What I have said is in no way an exaggeration.
My feelings, I think, could not possibly
be exaggerated, nor can anyone understand them. I felt a fire within my
soul the nature of which I am utterly incapable of describing. My bodily
sufferings were so intolerable that, though in my life I have endured the
severest sufferings of this kind -- the worst it is possible to endure,
the doctors say, such as the shrinking of the nerves during my paralysis[251]
and many and divers more, some of them, as I have said, caused by the
devil -- none of them is of the smallest account by comparison with what I
felt then, to say nothing of the knowledge that they would be endless and
never-ceasing. And even these are nothing by comparison with the agony of
my soul, an oppression, a suffocation and an affliction so deeply felt,
and accompanied by such hopeless and distressing misery, that I cannot too
forcibly describe it. To say that it is as if the soul were continually
being torn from the body is very little, for that would mean that one's
life was being taken by another; whereas in this case it is the soul
itself that is tearing itself to pieces. The fact is that I cannot find
words to describe that interior fire and that despair, which is greater
than the most grievous tortures and pains. I could not see who was the
cause of them, but I felt, I think, as if I were being both burned and
dismembered; and I repeat that that interior fire and despair are the
worst things of all.
In that pestilential spot, where I was
quite powerless to hope for comfort, it was impossible to sit or lie, for
there was no room to do so. I had been put in this place which looked like
a hole in the wall, and those very walls, so terrible to the sight, bore
down upon me and completely stifled me. There was no light and everything
was in the blackest darkness. I do not understand how this can be, but,
although there was no light, it was possible to see everything the sight
of which can cause affliction. At that time it was not the Lord's will
that I should see more of hell itself, but I have since seen another
vision of frightful things, which are the punishment of certain vices. To
look at, they seemed to me much more dreadful; but, as I felt no pain,
they caused me less fear. In the earlier vision the Lord was pleased that
I should really feel those torments and that affliction of spirit, just as
if my body had been suffering them. I do not know how it was, but I
realized quite clearly that it was a great favour and that it was the
Lord's will that I should see with my own eyes the place from which His
mercy had delivered me. It is nothing to read a description of it, or to
think of different kinds of torture (as I have sometimes done, though
rarely, as my soul made little progress by the road of fear): of how the
devils tear the flesh with their pincers or of the various other tortures
that I have read about -- none of these are anything by comparison with
this affliction, which is quite another matter. In fact, it is like a
picture set against reality, and any burning on earth is a small matter
compared with that fire.
I was terrified by all this, and, though
it happened nearly six years ago, I still am as I write: even as I sit
here, fear seems to be depriving my body of its natural warmth. I never
recall any time when I have been suffering trials or pains and when
everything that we can suffer on earth has seemed to me of the slightest
importance by comparison with this; so, in a way, I think we complain
without reason. I repeat, then, that this vision was one of the most
signal favours which the Lord has bestowed upon me: it has been of the
greatest benefit to me, both in taking from me all fear of the
tribulations and disappointments of this life and also in strengthening me
to suffer them and to give thanks to the Lord, Who, as I now believe, has
delivered me from such terrible and never-ending torments.
Since that time, as I say, everything has
seemed light to me by comparison with a single moment of such suffering as
I had to bear during that vision. I am shocked at myself when I think
that, after having so often read books which give some idea of the pains
of hell, I was neither afraid of them nor rated them at what they are.
What could I have been thinking of? How could anything give me
satisfaction which was driving me to so awful a place? Blessed be Thou, my
God, for ever! How plain it has become that Thou didst love me, much more
than I love myself! How often, Lord, didst Thou deliver me from that
gloomy prison and how I would make straight for it again, in face of Thy
will!
This vision, too, was the cause of the
very deep distress which I experience because of the great number of souls
who are bringing damnation upon themselves -- especially of those
Lutherans, for they were made members of the Church through baptism. It
also inspired me with fervent impulses for the good of souls: for I really
believe that, to deliver a single one of them from such dreadful tortures,
I would willingly die many deaths. After all, if we see anyone on earth
who is especially dear to us suffering great trial or pain, our very
nature seems to move us to compassion, and if his sufferings are severe
they oppress us too. Who, then, could bear to look upon a soul's endless
sufferings in that most terrible trial of all? No heart could possibly
endure it without great affliction. For even earthly suffering, which
after all, as we know, has a limit and will end with death, moves us to
deep compassion. And that other suffering has no limit: I do not know how
we can look on so calmly and see the devil carrying off as many souls as
he does daily.
This also makes me wish that in so urgent
a matter we were not ourselves satisfied with anything short of doing all
that we can. Let us leave nothing undone; and to this end may the Lord be
pleased to grant us His grace. I recall that, wicked creature though I
was, I used to take some trouble to serve God and refrain from doing
certain things which I see tolerated and considered quite legitimate in
the world; that I had serious illnesses, and bore them with great
patience, which the Lord bestowed on me; that I was not given to murmuring
or speaking ill of anyone, nor, I think, could I ever have wished anyone
ill; that I was not covetous and never remember having been envious in
such a way as grievously to offend the Lord; and that I abstained from
certain other faults, and, despicable though I was, lived in the most
constant fear of God. And yet look at the place where the devils had
prepared a lodging for me! It is true, I think, that my faults had merited
a much heavier punishment; but none the less, I repeat, the torture was
terrible, and it is a perilous thing for a soul to indulge in its own
pleasure or to be placid and contented when at every step it is falling
into mortal sin. For the love of God, let us keep free from occasions of
sin and the Lord will help us as He has helped me. May it please His
Majesty not to let me out of His hand lest I fall once more, now that I
have seen the place to which that would lead me. May the Lord forbid this,
for His Majesty's sake. Amen.
After I had seen this vision, and other
great things and secrets which, being what He is, the Lord was pleased to
show me, concerning the bliss reserved for the good and the affliction for
the wicked, I desired to find some way and means of doing penance for all
my evil deeds and of becoming in some degree worthy to gain so great a
blessing. I desired, therefore, to flee from others and to end by
withdrawing myself completely from the world. My spirit was restless, yet
the restlessness was not disturbing but pleasant: I knew quite well that
it was of God and that His Majesty had given my soul this ardour to enable
me to digest other and stronger meat than I had been in the habit of
eating.
I would wonder what I could do for God,
and it occurred to me that the first thing was to follow the vocation for
a religious life which His Majesty had given me by keeping my Rule with
the greatest possible perfection. And although in the house where I was
living[252] there were many
servants of God, and He was well served in it, yet, as it was very needy,
we nuns would often leave it for other places where we could live
honourably and keep our vows. Furthermore, the Rule was not observed in
its primitive rigour but, as throughout the Order, according to the Bull
of Mitigation.[253] There
were also other disadvantages, such as the excessive amount of comfort
which I thought we had, for the house was a large and pleasant one. But
this habit of frequently going away (and I was one who did it a great
deal) was a serious drawback to me, for there were certain persons, to
whom my superiors could refuse nothing, who liked to have me with them,
and so, when importuned by these persons, they would order me to go and
visit them. So things went on until I was able to be in the convent very
little; the devil must have had something to do with my being away so
much, though at the same time I was in the habit of repeating to some of
the nuns the things taught me by the people I met and these did them a
great deal of good.
One day it happened that a person to whom
I was talking,[254] with
some other sisters, asked me why we should not become Discalced nuns,[255]
for it would be quite possible to find a way of establishing a convent. I
had had desires of this kind myself, so I began to discuss the matter with
a companion -- that widowed lady who, as I have said before, had the same
desire. She began to think out a way to find the money for such a house; I
see now that that would not have got us very far, though our desire to
achieve our object made us think that it would. But, for my own part, I
was most happy in the house where I was, for I was very fond both of the
house and of my cell, and this held me back. None the less, we agreed to
commend the matter very earnestly to God.
One day, after Communion, the Lord gave me
the most explicit commands to work for this aim with all my might and made
me wonderful promises -- that the convent would not fail to be
established; that great service would be done to Him in it; that it should
be called Saint Joseph's; that He[256]
would watch over us at one door and Our Lady at the other; that Christ
would go with us; that the convent would be a star giving out the most
brilliant light; and that, although the Rules of the religious Orders were
mitigated, I was not to think He was very little served in them, for what
would become of the world if it were not for religious? I was to tell my
confessor this[257] and to
say that it was He Who was giving me this command and that He asked him
not to oppose it nor to hinder me in carrying it out.
So great was the effect upon me of this
vision and such was the nature of these words which the Lord addressed to
me that I could not doubt that it was He Who had uttered them. This caused
me the deepest distress, because I had a fairly good idea of the serious
disturbances and trials which the work would cost me. I was very happy,
too, in that house, and, though in the past I had been accustomed to speak
of such a foundation, it had not been with any great degree of
determination or certainty that the thing would be done. I felt now that a
great burden was being laid upon me, and, when I saw that I was at the
beginning of a very disturbing time, I became doubtful what I should do.
But the Lord appeared and spoke to me about it again and again, and so
numerous were the motives and arguments which He put before me, in such a
way that I saw that they were valid and that the project was His will,
that I dared not do otherwise than speak to my confessor about it and give
him a written account of everything that took place.
He did not venture to tell me expressly to
give up the idea, but he saw that, humanly speaking, there was no way of
putting it into practice, since my companion, who was to be the person to
effect this, had no resources at all, or very scanty ones. He told me to
talk it over with my Superior, and to do what he advised. I did not
discuss these visions with the Superior, but the lady who was desirous of
founding this convent had a talk with him, and the Provincial,[258]
who is well-disposed to the religious Orders, took to the idea very well,
gave her all necessary help and told her he would give the house his
sanction. They discussed the revenue which the convent would need, and we
decided that, for many reasons, the number of nuns in the convent ought
never to exceed thirteen. Before beginning to discuss the matter we had
written to the holy Fray Peter of Alc‡ntara and told him all that was
happening. He advised us not to desist from our work and gave us his
opinion about the whole matter.
Hardly had news of the project begun to be
known here than there descended upon us a persecution so severe that it is
impossible in a few words to describe it: people talked about us, laughed
at us and declared that the idea was ridiculous. Of me, they said that I
was all right in the convent where I was living, while my companion was
subjected to such persecution that it quite exhausted her. I did not know
what to do, for up to a certain point I thought these people were right.
Worn out with it all as I was, I commended myself to God and His Majesty
began to give me consolation and encouragement. He told me that I could
now see what those saints who had founded religious Orders had suffered:
they had had to endure much more persecution than any I could imagine and
we must not allow ourselves to be troubled by it. He told me certain
things which I was to say to my companion, and to my absolute amazement we
at once felt comforted by what had happened and courageous enough to
resist everybody. And it is a fact that, at that time, both among people
of prayer and in the whole place, there was hardly anyone who was not
against us and did not consider our project absolutely ridiculous.[259]
There was so much commotion and talk of
this kind in my own convent that the Provincial thought it would be hard
for him to set himself against everybody; so he changed his mind and
refused to sanction the plan. He said that the revenue was not assured,
that in any case there would be too little of it, and that the plan was
meeting with considerable opposition. In all this he appeared to be right.
So he dropped the matter and refused to sanction the new convent. We, on
whom the first blows now seemed to have fallen, were very much distressed
at this, and I myself was particularly so at finding the Provincial
against me, for his previous approval of the plan had justified me in the
eyes of all. My companion was refused absolution unless she would give up
the idea; it was incumbent on her, she was told, to remove the scandal.
She went to talk the matter over with a
very learned man, a most devout servant of God, of the Order of Saint
Dominic,[260] and to him
she detailed the whole story. This she did even before the Provincial
withdrew his support from us, for we had no one in the whole place who
would advise us in the matter; and it was for that reason that they said
the whole thing had come out of our own heads. The lady gave this holy man
an account of everything and told him how much revenue she derived from
her estate; she hoped very much that he would help us, since at that time
he was the most learned man in the place, and there are few more learned
than he in his entire Order. I myself told him all that we were proposing
to do and some of the reasons for it. I said nothing to him about any of
the revelations I had had, but only described the reasons, other than
supernatural, which were prompting me, for it was these alone that I
wanted him to take into account when giving us his opinion. He told us
that we must allow him a week to think the matter over before answering
and asked if we were definitely going to act upon whatever he said. I told
him we were; but although I said this, and I think I would have acted upon
it,[261] I never for a
moment lost my confidence that the foundation would be made. My companion
had more faith; and, whatever people might say to her, nothing would
persuade her to abandon it.
For my own part, although, as I say, the
abandonment of the project seemed to me impossible, I believed the
revelation to be true only in the sense that it was not contrary to what
is in Holy Scripture or to the laws of the Church which we are obliged to
keep; for, despite my belief that it really came from God, if that learned
man had told me that we could not act upon it without offending Him and
that we were acting against our conscience, I think I should at once have
abandoned the plan and sought some other way. But the Lord showed me no
other way than this. Later, this servant of God told me that at one point
he had definitely decided to urge us to give the project up, because his
attention had been directed to the popular clamour, and also because to
him, as to everyone else, it had seemed folly; that a certain gentleman,
on hearing that we had gone to him, had sent to advise him to be careful
what he did and not to help us; but that, when he had begun to consider
what he should say to us, to think over the matter, and to reflect upon
the intentions that were prompting us, the way we were setting to work and
our concern for our Order, he became convinced that we should be rendering
God a great service and that the scheme must not be abandoned. And so his
answer was that we should make haste to carry it out; he told us by what
ways and methods this should be done; and, although our income was small,
we must be prepared to some extent to trust God. Anyone, he said, who
offered further opposition should be referred to him for an answer; and he
always helped us in this way, as I shall show later.
We were greatly comforted by this, and
also by the fact that several saintly persons, who had previously been
against us, were now better disposed and some of them actually helped us.
One of these was the saintly gentleman whom I have already mentioned. He
now felt that the project, being founded, as in fact it was, on prayer,
would lead to great perfection, and though he thought it would be
difficult and impracticable to find the necessary means for making the
foundation, he gave up his former view and decided that the idea might be
from God, in which decision the Lord Himself must have inspired him. He
also inspired that Master, the cleric and servant of God to whom, as I
said, I had spoken first of all, who is a pattern to the whole place and a
person whom God keeps there for the help and profit of many souls.[262]
He, too, came forward to help me in the matter. And while things were in
that position, and many people were continually helping us by their
prayers, we practically completed the negotiations for purchasing the
house. It was a small one, but that did not trouble me in the least, for
the Lord had told me to start work as well as I could and in due course I
should see what His Majesty would do for us. (And how clearly I have seen
it!) And so, though I realized our income would be small, I believed that
the Lord would have other ways of arranging things for us and would give
us His help.
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