Capítulo II
The First Steps of Vanity
Teresa describes how her mother's fondness for chivalric books and her own growing absorption in fine clothes and pastimes began to erode her early virtues.
It treats how she gradually lost these virtues, and how important it is in childhood to keep company with virtuous people. It seems to me that what I'm about to say began to do me a great deal of harm. I sometimes consider how badly parents act when they don't see to it that their children always encounter things of virtue in every way; because though my mother was so virtuous, as I've said, once I came to the use of reason I didn't take in so much of the good — almost nothing — and the bad harmed me greatly. She liked books of chivalry, and she didn't take up this pastime as badly as I did; because she didn't neglect her work—instead, we made time to read them; and maybe she did it to avoid dwelling on the great hardships she had, and to keep her children occupied so they wouldn't go astray into other things. This bothered my father so much that we had to be careful he wouldn't see it. I began to fall into the habit of reading them, and that small fault I saw in her began to cool my desires and make me start falling short in everything else; and it seemed to me it wasn't wrong to spend many hours day and night on such a vain exercise, even though I hid it from my father. I became so extremely absorbed in this that if I didn't have a new book, it seems to me I had no contentment. I began to wear nice clothes and to want to please by looking good, taking great care with my hands and hair and scents, and with all the vanities I could indulge in this—and there were plenty of them, because I was very particular about such things.1 I didn't mean any harm, because I wouldn't have wanted anyone to offend God on my account. An excessive fussiness about cleanliness stayed with me for many years, along with things that for a long time seemed to me no sin at all; now I see how bad it must have been.
Entanglement in Bad Company
She recounts how companionship with cousins and a frivolous relative deepened her attachment to vanity and weakened her fear of God, despite family warnings.
I had some first cousins who were the only ones allowed into my father's house—he was very careful; and I wish to God he had been as careful about these too, because now I see how dangerous it is, at the age when virtues ought to begin to be formed, to keep company with people who don't recognize the vanity of the world, but rather stir you up to throw yourself into it. They were almost my age, a little older than I; we were always together, and they loved me dearly. In everything that pleased them I kept the conversation going and listened to stories of their attachments and childish foolishness — none of it good — and what was worse was that the soul opened itself to what became the cause of all its harm. If I were to give advice, I would tell parents that at this age they should take great care about the people their children associate with; because here there is much harm, since our nature tends toward the worse rather than the better.2 That's exactly what happened to me: I had a sister much older than me, and from her honesty and goodness—of which she had a great deal—I took nothing, and I took all the harm from a relative who spent a lot of time at our house. She had such frivolous ways that my mother had tried hard to keep her from spending time at our house (it seems she foresaw the harm that would come to me through her), and yet there was so much opportunity for her to come in that my mother hadn't been able to stop it.3 I grew fond of spending time with this woman I've mentioned. I spent my time talking with her, because she helped me with every pastime I wanted, and even put me up to them, and shared her conversations and vanities with me. Until I started spending time with her—I was fourteen then, and I think a little older (I mean, old enough for her to become friends with me and share her affairs)—it doesn't seem to me that I had left God through mortal sin, or lost the fear of God, though I feared my honor more: that fear was strong enough to keep me from losing it completely; nor does it seem that anything in the world could have changed me in this, nor was there any love for any person that would make me give way on this point.45 I wish I had had as much strength not to go against God's honor as my nature gave me not to lose what seemed to me the honor of the world; and I didn't see that I was losing it in many other ways. In my vain desire for this honor, I went to extremes: I didn't use any of the means needed to guard it; I only took great care not to lose myself completely.6 My father and sister were deeply troubled by this friendship and scolded me for it many times: since they couldn't remove the opportunity for her to come into the house, their efforts did them no good, because I was very clever when it came to anything bad.
The Poison of Secrecy and God's Mercy
Reflecting on the harm of evil associations, Teresa acknowledges her own responsibility and marvels that God preserved her from complete ruin despite her secret sins.
I'm sometimes shocked by the harm bad company does; and if I hadn't gone through it myself, I couldn't believe it. Especially in youth the harm it does must be even greater. I'd want parents to take a warning from me, so they'd watch this carefully. And that's how it was: this companionship changed me so thoroughly that it left me almost nothing of my virtuous nature and soul; and it seems she stamped her ways on me—she and another who had the same kind of pastimes.7 From this I understand the great good that good company does; and I'm certain that if I'd associated at that age with virtuous people, I would have remained whole in virtue; because if at this age I'd had someone to teach me to fear God, the soul would have been gaining strength so as not to fall.8 Afterward, once this fear was completely gone, the only fear left to me was for my honor, which tormented me in everything I did. Thinking that it wouldn't become known, I dared many things quite against it and against God.9 At the beginning, the things I've mentioned harmed me, as far as I can tell, and the fault shouldn't have been hers but mine. Afterward, my own malice was enough to cause evil, especially with servant girls who were ready to help me in any kind of wrongdoing. If any of them had advised me well, it might have helped me, but self-interest blinded them, just as affection blinded me. And so I was never much inclined toward serious wrongdoing, because I naturally hated anything dishonest—only toward pastimes of pleasant conversation; but once I was put in the occasion for it, the danger was right at hand, and I put my father and brothers at risk. God delivered me from that, so that it is clear He was working against my will to keep me from being completely lost; still, it couldn't be kept so secret that my honor wasn't seriously damaged, and my father left with suspicion.
Sent Away to the Convent
She tells of being secretly placed in a convent, her father's love, and the lesson that nothing can be hidden from God—a warning against secret sin.
For I don't think it had been three months that I was going about in these vanities when they took me to a convent in this place where girls like me were being raised, though not so ruined in their habits as I was. And they did it with such great secrecy that only I and one relative knew about it, because they waited for a moment when it wouldn't look sudden or strange—since my sister had married and I was left alone without a mother, that wasn't right.10 My father's love for me was so excessive, and my secrecy so thorough, that he couldn't believe so much evil of me—and so he didn't fall out with me. Since the time was short, even if something was suspected, it couldn't be said for certain; because I feared so much for my honor that all my efforts went into keeping it secret, and I didn't stop to think that nothing can be secret from the One who sees everything. O my God, what harm it does in the world to take this lightly, and to think that there could be any secret thing that is against You! I'm certain that great evils would be avoided if we understood that the real issue isn't keeping ourselves from other people, but failing to keep ourselves from displeasing You.1112
Grace in the Convent
Describing her initial discomfort and then unexpected contentment, Teresa celebrates God's patient mercy and the beginning of her recovery through the influence of a virtuous nun.
The first eight days I felt a great deal — more from the suspicion that my vanity had been seen through than from being there; because I was already worn out, and I still kept a deep fear of God whenever I offended Him, and I tried to confess without delay. I carried such unrest that within eight days — and I think even less — I was far happier than I had been in my father's house. They were all happy with me, because in this the Lord gave me grace — to bring contentment wherever I was — and so I was much loved; and although by then I was already fiercely set against becoming a nun, I took delight in seeing such good nuns, as the ones in that house truly were, of great propriety and religious life and reserve. Even so, the devil never stopped tempting me, and looking for people outside to unsettle me with messages. Since there was no opportunity, it soon came to an end, and my soul began to grow used again to the good of my early years, and I saw what a great mercy God does for anyone He places in the company of good people. It seems to me His Majesty was looking and looking again for some way to bring me back to Himself. Blessed are You, Lord, who have borne with me so long. Amen. I had one thing that might seem some excuse, if I did not have so many faults — namely, that my dealings were with someone who, by way of marriage, seemed able to end well; and advised by the one I confessed to, and by other people, they told me that in many things it was not against God. A nun used to sleep among those of us who were still laywomen, and it seems the Lord wanted to begin giving me insight through her, as I'll now explain.
Read the original Spanish
Trata cómo fué perdiendo estas virtudes, y lo que importa en la niñez tratar con personas virtuosas.
Paréceme que comenzó á hacerme mucho daňo lo que ahora diré. Considero algunas veces cuán mal lo hacen los padres, que no procurar que vean sus hijos siempre cosas de virtud de todas maneras; porque con serlo tanto mi madre, como he dicho, de lo bueno no tomé tanto, en llegando á uso de razon, ni casi nada, y lo malo me dañó mucho.
Era aficionada á libros de caballerías, y no tan mal tomaba este pasatiempo, como yo le tomé para mí; porque no perdia su labor, sino desenvolvíemonos para leer en ellos; y por ventura lo hacia para no pensar en grandes trabajos que tenia, y ocupar sus hijos, que no anduviesen en otras cosas perdidos. Desto le pesaba tanto á mi padre, que se habia de tener aviso á que no lo viese. Yo comencé á quedarme en costumbre de leerlos, y aquella pequeña falta, que en ella ví, me comenzó á enfriar los deseos, y comenzar á faltar en lo demás; y parecíame no era malo, con gastar muchas horas del día y de la noche en tan vano ejercicio, aunque ascondida de mi padre. Era tan en estremo lo que en esto me embebia, que si no tenia libro nuevo, no me parece tenia contento. Comencé á traer galas, y á desear contentar en parecer bien, con mucho cuidado de manos y cabello y olores, y todas las vanidades que en esto podia tener, que eran hartas, por ser muy curiosa. No tenia mala intención, porque no quisiera yo que nadie ofendiera á Dios por mí. Duróme mucha curiosidad de limpieza demasiada, y cosas que me parecia á mí no eran ningun pecado muchos años; ahora veo cuán malo debia ser. Tenia primos hermanos algunos, que en casa de mi padre no tenian otros cabida para entrar, que era muy recatado; y pluguiera á Dios que lo fuera de estos tambien, porque ahora veo el peligro que es tratar en la edad, que se han de comenzar á criar virtudes, con personas, que no conocen la vanidad del mundo, sino que antes despiertan para meterse en él.
Eran casi de mi edad, poco mayores que yo; andábamos siempre juntos, teníanme gran amor; y en todas las cosas que les daba contento, los sustentaba plática y oia sucesos de sus aficiones y niñerías, no nada buenas; y lo que peor fué mostrarse el alma á lo que fué causa de todo su mal. Si yo hubiera de aconsejar, dijera á los padres, que en esta edad tuviesen gran cuenta con las personas que tratan sus hijos; porque aquí está mucho mal, que se va nuestro natural antes á lo peor, que á lo mijor.
Ansí me acaeció á mí, que tenia una hermana de mucho mas edad que yo, de cuya honestidad y bondad, que tenia mucha, de esta no tomaba nada, y tomé todo el daño de una parienta, que trataba mucho en casa. Era de tan livianos tratos, que mi madre la habia mucho procurado desviar tratase en casa (parece adivinaba el mal que por ella me habia de venir), y era tanta la ocasion que habia para entrar, que no habia podido. A esta que digo me aficioné á tratar. Con ella era mi conversación y pláticas, porque me ayudaba á todas las cosas de pasatiempo, que yo queria, y aun me ponia en ellas, y daba parte de sus conversaciones y vanidades. Hasta que traté con ella, que fué de edad de catorce años, y creo que mas (para tener amistad conmigo, digo, y darme parte de sus cosas) no me parece habia dejado á Dios por culpa mortal, ni perdido el temor de Dios, aunque le tenia mayor de la honra: este tuvo fuerza para no la perder del todo; ni me parece por ninguna cosa del mundo en esto me podia mudar, ni habia amor de persona dél, que á esto me hiciese rendir. Ansí tuviera fortaleza en no ir contra la honra de Dios, como me la daba mi natural, para no perder en lo que me parecia á mí está la honra del mundo; y no miraba que la perdia por otras muchas vias. En querer esta vanamente tenia extremo: los medios, que eran menester para guardarla, no ponia ninguno; solo para no perderme del todo tenia gran miramiento. Mi padre y hermana sentian mucho esta amistad, reprendíanmela muchas veces: como no podian quitar la ocasion de entrar ella en casa, no les aprovechaban sus diligencias, porque mi sagacidad para cualquier cosa mala era mucha.
Espántame algunas veces el daño, que hace una mala compañia; y si no hubiera pasado por ello, no lo pudiera creer: en especial en tiempo de mocedad debe ser mayor el mal que hace: querria escarmentasen en mí los padres, para mirar mucho en esto. Y es ansí, que de tal manera me mudó esta conversacion, que de natural y alma virtuosos no me dejó casi ninguno; y me parece me imprimia sus condiciones ella, y otra que tenia la misma manera de pasatiempos.
Por aquí entiendo el gran provecho que hace la buena compañía; y tengo por cierto, que si tratára en aquella edad con personas virtuosas, que estuviera entera en la virtud; porque si en esta edad tuviera quien me enseñara á temer á Dios, fuera tomando fuerzas el alma para no caer. Despues, quitado este temor del todo, quedóme solo el de la honra, que en todo lo que hacia me traia atormentada. Con pensar que no se habia de saber, me atrevia á muchas cosas bien contra ella y contra Dios.
Al principio dañáronme las cosas dichas, á lo que me parece, y no debia ser suya la culpa sino mia; porque despues mi malicia para el mal bastaba, junto con tener criadas, que para todo mal hallaba en ellas buen aparejo: que si alguna fuera en aconsejarme bien, por ventura me aprovechára; mas el interese las cegaba como á mí la afecion.
Y pues nunca era inclinada á mucho mal, porque cosas deshonestas naturalmente las aborrecia, sino á pasatiempos de buena conversacion; mas puesta en la ocasión, estaba en la mano el peligro, y ponia en él á mi padre y hermanos: de los cuales me libró Dios, de manera que se parece bien procuraba contra mi voluntad que del todo no me perdiese; aunque no pudo ser tan secreto, que no hubiese harta quiebra de mi honra, y sospecha en mi padre. Porque no me parece habia tres meses que andaba en estas vanidades, cuando me llevaron á un monesterio que habia en este lugar, adonde se criaban personas semejantes, aunque no tan ruines en costumbres como yo; y esto con tan gran disimulacion, que sola yo y algun deudo lo supo, porque aguardaron á coyuntura, que no pareciese novedad; porque haberse mi hermana casado, y quedar sola sin madre, no era bien. Era tan demasiado el amor, que mi padre me tenia, y la mucha disimulacion mia, que no habia creer tanto mal de mí, y ansí no quedó en desgracia conmigo. Como fué breve el tiempo, aunque se entendiese algo, no debía ser dicho con certinidad; porque como yo temia tanto la honra, todas mis diligencias eran en que fuese secreto, y no miraba que no podia serlo á quien todo lo ve. ¡Oh Dios mio, qué daño hace en el mundo tener esto en poco, y pensar que ha de haber cosa secreta, que sea contra vos!
Tengo por cierto, que se escusarian grandes males, si entendiésemos, que no está el negocio en guardarnos de los hombres, sino en no nos guardar de descontentaros á vos.
Los primeros ocho dias sentí mucho, y mas la sospecha que tuve se habia entendido la vanidad mia, que no de estar allí; porque ya yo andaba cansada, y no dejaba de tener gran temor de Dios cuando le ofendía, y procuraba confesarme con brevedad: traia un desasosiego, que en ocho dias, y aun creo en menos, estaba muy mas contenta que en casa de mi padre. Todas lo estaban conmigo, porque en esto me daba el Señor gracia, en dar contento adonde quiera que estuviese, y ansí era muy querida; y puesto que yo estaba entonces ya enemigísima de ser monja, holgábame de ver tan buenas monjas, que lo eran mucho las de aquella casa, y de gran honestidad y religion y recatamiento. Aun con todo esto no me dejaba el demonio de tentar, y buscar los de fuera cómo me desasosegar con recaudos. Como no había lugar, presto se acabó, y comenzó mi alma á tornarse á acostumbrar en el bien de mi primera edad, y ví la gran merced que hace Dios á quien pone en compañía de buenos. Paréceme andaba su Majestad mirando y remirando, por dónde me podia tornar á sí. Bendito seais vos, Señor, que tanto me habeis sufrido, amen. Una cosa tenía, que parece me podia ser alguna disculpa, si no tuviera tantas culpas, y es, que era el trato con quien por via de casamiento me parecia podia acabar en bien: é informada de con quien me confesaba, y de otras personas, en muchas cosas me decian no iba contra Dios.
Dormia una monja con las que estábamos seglares, que por medio suyo parece quiso el Señor comenzar á darme luz, como ahora diré.
Notes
- 1 ↩Spanish curiosa here means fastidious/particular about appearance and adornment, not intellectually curious.
- 2 ↩Source spelling «mijor» read as «mejor» (better).
- 3 ↩livianos tratos rendered as frivolous ways; also covers light, loose, or worldly manners of dealing.
- 4 ↩honra rendered as honor in the sense of worldly reputation/chastity-reputation; temor de Dios kept as fear of God; culpa mortal as mortal sin.
- 5 ↩Age clause most naturally refers to Teresa when the friendship began; the parenthetical clarifies readiness for intimate sharing of the relative's affairs.
- 6 ↩esta refers back to worldly honor (honra); vanamente kept as vainly to preserve the vanity theme.
- 7 ↩conversación here means association/companionship (Golden Age usage), not mere talk; rendered as companionship.
- 8 ↩Spanish contrasts aquella edad (“that age,” her youth) with esta edad (“this age”). The deixis may mark past youth versus the later age of writing, or keep the same youthful period in topic-proximal view; the English preserves that/this.
- 9 ↩ella refers to honra (“honor”) in the previous sentence; English “it” keeps that antecedent.
- 10 ↩monesterio rendered as convent (boarding house for young women), not a professed monastic entry.
- 11 ↩Spanish 'escusarian' (excusarían) here means 'would be avoided/prevented,' not 'would be excused' in the sense of forgiven.
- 12 ↩'sino en no nos guardar de descontentaros á vos' is rendered as the real issue consisting in our failure to guard against displeasing God (not...but), preserving the Spanish negation rather than flipping it into a positive injunction.
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