Demons, Nausea, and Resistance in the title: Autobiography of Isabel De Jesús (1611 1682) author: Velasco, Sherry M. publisher: University of New Mexico isbn10 | asin: 0826316646 print isbn13: 9780826316646 ebook isbn13: 9780585187440 language: English Isabel de Jesús,--sor,--1611-1682, Nuns-- Spain--Biography, Autobiography--Women authors, Women's studies--Spain-- subject Biographical methods, Women--Spain-- History--Modern period, 1600- , Demonology in literature. publication date: 1996 lcc: BX4700.I76V45 1996eb ddc: 271/.97102 Isabel de Jesús,--sor,--1611-1682, Nuns-- Spain--Biography, Autobiography--Women authors, Women's studies--Spain-- subject: Biographical methods, Women--Spain-- History--Modern period, 1600- , Demonology in literature. Page iii

Demons, Nausea, and Resistance in the Autobiography of Isabel de Jesús 1611-1682

Sherry M. Velasco

UNIVERSITY OF NEW MEXICO PRESS Albuquerque

Page iv Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Velasco, Sherry M. (Sherry Marie), 1962- Demons, nausea, and resistance in the autobiography of Isabel de Jesus (1611-1682) / Sherry M. Velasco.1st ed. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 0-8263-1664-6 (cl.) 1. Isabel de Jesus, sor, 1611-1682. 2. NunsSpainBiography. 3. AutobiographyWomen authors. 4. Women's studiesSpainBiographical methods. 5. WomenSpainHistoryModern period, 1600- 6. Demonology in literature. I. Title BX4700.176V45 1996 271'.97102dc20 95-4365 CIP © 1996 by the University of New Mexico Press All rights reserved. First Edition

Page v

For Juan

Page vii

Contents Preface ix Introduction: Self-Representation and the Metanarrative 3 1. Writing a Nun's Life 7 2. The Devil, Nausea, and "Monjas Embaucadoras" 29 3. Iconographic Tradition and the Demonic Mouth 53 4. The Dialectics of Resistance: Prowriting versus 65 Antiwriting 5. Disgust, Nausea, and Writing 85 Conclusion: Isabel's Hidden Tradition 101 Notes 107 Bibliography 119 Index 127

Page ix

Preface Women's self-representation through autobiography has traditionally been problematic. Forced to confront the patriarchal mandate that women remain silent, claiming a public voice seemed impossible or at least conflictive. As a result, women autobiographers have had to find acceptable ways to justify the account of their life stories by outwardly reaffirming the values of male-dominant society. At the same time they searched for a different way to tell their own stories between the lines, as if the life account were two narrations. As Sidonie Smith puts it, the woman writer "insinuates" her life story through the text of the patriarchal story (19).

1

The autobiography of the nun Isabel de Jesús reveals the rebellious pursuit of public discourse in its recounting of the life story while it also tells the conflictive version of the patriarch's story through the metanarrative. Like other early modern women writers, Isabel is able to assume silent humility by stressing that she is a reluctant author, forced to write by God and her confessor. Then, by using the cynical voice of the Devil, she expresses many of her forbidden thoughts, fears, and opinions. The mystic nun creates a dialogue in her text: a back-and-forth argument encouraging and discouraging the problematic act of a woman writing in the Church. Most often this debate is between the Devil and God, confessors, saints, or angels. This study examines the discourse of resistance expressed through the figure of the Devil and the role of nausea in the metanarrative of Isabel de Jesús' autobiography.2 The first section (chaps. 1-3) establishes the historical background for the second section (chaps. 4 and 5), which focuses on the specific characteristics of Isabel's metanarrative. Chapter 1 reviews the problematic criticism that has surrounded Isabel's writing and discusses certain aspects of and influences on her life that facilitate the understanding of her autobiography.

Page x Chapters 2 and 3 are primarily contextual, setting forth dominant themes in Isabel's work in a broader Spanish and European setting. Chapter 2 examines the history of demonology and nausea in the convent and analyzes the controversial cases of women and nausea, with a special emphasis on those in Toledo, where Isabel lived. In chapter 3, the sociohistorical approach to the Devil and nausea shifts to a study of the literary and iconographic sources that help explain the association between the Devil, nausea, women, and communication. Once the historic foundation has been laid, I show how the demonic and emetic features are manifested in Isabel's autobiography. The detailed study of her metanarrative demonstrates how her work provides a unique approach to self-representation of women religious in Counter-Reformation Spain. This section shows how the Devil, nausea, and writing about writing are used, in a subversive discourse of resistance, to reverse the misogynist attitudes toward women. There are several people whose expertise and support I would like to acknowledge. My deepest thanks go to Carroll B. Johnson for his constant encouragement and insights during the preparation of this work. I would also like to thank Joaquin Gimeno Casalduero and C. Brian Morris for their helpful suggestions during the initial stages of the manuscript. A special thanks goes to my colleagues at the University of Kansas for their generosity and keen observations during the final preparation of this book. In particular, I am indebted to William Blue, Isidro Rivera, Janet Sharistanian, and Lisa Bitel for their enthusiastic interest in and careful reading of Isabel's life story. I also offer special gratitude to Alison Weber for her support and valuable insights, Rosario Ramos Pérez at the Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid, Barbara Guth at the University of New Mexico Press, and my copy editor, Sheila Berg.

Page 3

Introduction Self-Representation and the Metanarrative One common theme that has linked most women writers of Spain throughout their recorded literary history is the inclusion in their works of commentaries about the act of writing, specifically as women. Beginning with Hispano-Arabic women poets from before the eleventh century and continuing to the contemporary writings of Gloria Fuertes, the majority of women authors write about their literary activity. The appearance of the explicit author and the discussion of texts written by women created a built-in history, either knowingly feminist or at least gender-conscious, of their writings. The humble apologies, persuasive self-defenses, and expression of the need to explain the mainspring of women's self-representation appear in the prologues, introductions, and dedications as well as in the body of the works, including poetry, theater, prose, legal and religious documents, letters, autobiographies, biographies, and diaries. Later Spanish women writers have also identified with their literary foremothers, as they also encouraged women to write. Isabel de Jesús' autobiography, Tesoro del Carmelo, escondido en el campo de la iglesia, hallado, y descubierto . . . (Treasure of Mount Carmel, Hidden in the Church, Found and Discovered . . .), published in 1685, exemplifies the Spanish women writers' literary tradition.

1 I selected Isabel's work not only because of her captivating and graphic narrative, but more importantly because her autobiography displays features not seen in any other Golden Age text. In particular, her metanarrative displays an obsession with the act of writing. Unlike works by other women who also wrote about committing their ideas to paper, Isabel's life narrative engages nausea and the Devil in its discussion of literary activity.

Studies have been published in recent years on the role of food and fasting in convent life. Isabel's nausea is not exclusively related to food issues, however, or the ascetic practices of fasting as seen in the tradition

Page 4 of "holy anorexia and bulimia" in religious women. Isabel presents her nausea as a natural reaction to the Devil's disgusting attempts to prevent her from writing the word of God. Whenever she puts pen to paper, the Devil appears to dissuade her. If his efforts fail, he begins to torture her so as to physically prevent the act of writing. Isabel is repulsed by his methods and becomes ill: "Me senté a escrivir, . . . se inquietava el estómago, y provocava a bómito" (648) (I sat down to write, . . . my stomach became upset and caused me to vomit), ''porque delante de mi se ponia este enemigo a hazer muchas porquerías, que olían tan mal, que me hazía bolver la comida" (492) (because the enemy appeared before me doing many disgusting things, which smelled so bad that it made me vomit). Isabel creatively shows the expected humble resistance to claiming a voice in a patriarchal society by getting sick when she has to write. Isabel justifies her lack of desire to write by describing the torments used by the Devil to prevent her from recording the word of God. The intense agony and affliction she has to endure to continue writing demonstrates her Christ-like martyrdom. There is, however, a real sincerity in her distress related to the written word. Isabel expresses a resistance to recording her life, thoughts, beliefs, and activities for fear of the responses her work might provoke. Her life story reveals a constant underlying anxiety created by the knowledge that the notebooks would be examined and then judged by Church officials. The terror associated with the scrutiny of her writings and the lack of control she possessed over her own work are a major motivation for the voicing of an "antiwriting" sentiment in the text. Just as Isabel's resistance to putting pen to paper continued until she died, the Devil did not stop his tactics to prevent the blessed act of writing the word of God. Isabel uses the Devil to prove the holiness of her writings. If the Devil consistently tries to impede this activity, then logically her literary work must derive from God and serve Him. The enemy of God carries out the torture and temptation that measure Isabel's saintly suffering as well as her superiority to the evil spirits. The 758-page text stands as proof that she was able to overcome the constant temptations from hell. Isabel uses the cynical voice that emerges from the Devil's discourse to critique the patriarchal system, which she manipulates in her own arguments at various moments in the text. At these junctures, the Devil expresses Isabel's criticisms of the injustices and misogynous policies of the dominant order. The fact that Isabel de Jesús wrote during a time when theological writing was a proscribed activity for women contributes to an understanding of the antiwriting side of the debate. This position directly af-

Page 5 fects religious women's discourse and is consequently woven into the fabric of their texts. Isabel carefully balances her expositions of theological doctrine with long declarations of inferiority and ignorance. Just as the view that women should remain silent in the churches is revealed indirectly in Isabel's narrative, it is also expressed directly by the male writers in the approbations at the beginning of the text. Through these letters of recommendation written by ecclesiastic officials, we see the prevailing ideas of the second half of the seventeenth century concerning women's access to public discourse in the Church. If the dominant ideology in early modern Spain still reflected the patriarchal discourse of the traditional Church fathers, why was Isabel commanded to write? And why do we have a record of writings by so many religious women during this period? The answer is developed in the prowriting side of the dialogue in Isabel's text. She explains that her confessors had ordered her to write one hour daily as a way of forcing her to explain everything, her life story, daily activities, thoughts on prayer and religious doctrine, visions, illnesses, and any other relevant episodes in her life. Isabel implies that her confessors and the Inquisitorial officials needed a written record so as to examine and control the spiritual state and activities of the nuns. She believed that God, the saints, and the angels wanted her to write so she could promulgate God's holy word. These narratives reveal a strong sense of purpose and conviction that women be heard in the Church. Isabel uses the vow of obedience to justify the time invested in and the length of her written work. Anticipating critiques by male officials, Isabel's narrative creates a built-in judgment of itself by the tribunal of God in heaven, which ultimately proves its holiness. Just as Isabel's voice and that of the Devil join at times in their cynical discourse, her voice convenes with God's defense that her writing is both orthodox and necessary. This determined and confident voice, which takes pleasure in writing, contrasts with declarations that her writing is both painful and a waste of time. By depicting God and his helpers as her defenders, Isabel is free to oppose her own writing, thus displaying the expected humility of a woman not worthy to express her opinions on theology. Isabel manipulates both sides of the prowriting and the antiwriting controversy by cleverly applying the rhetoric of the patriarchal society and then using it against the male oppressor. Forced to experience the contradictions in this system, she defends herself through the use of demons and nausea by appropriating the ideology of the dominant order and then reversing the logic in a subversive attack against the power structure.

Page 7

1 Writing a Nun's Life The Politics of ''Lying:" The Confessor-Nun Partnership On September 21,1611, in Toledo, Isabel de Sosa was born, the youngest of twelve children and the only girl. She changed her name to Isabel de Jesús when she entered the Carmelite order. Isabel died in 1682 at the age of seventy-one less three months, exactly one hundred years after the death of Santa Teresa. Unfortunately but not unexpectedly, the only information we have at present about Isabel de Jesús can be found in her autobiography, Tesoro del Carmelo (Treasure of Mount Carmel), published in 1685 by her confessor, Manuel de Paredes, three years after her death.

1

Modern critics have described Isabel de Jesús as "saintly," "deluded," and a "fraud," based on the "thousand preposterous things she narrates and for attributing poetry that is in no way her own'' (Serrano y Sanz 557).2 In particular, Manuel Serrano y Sanz, Margarita Nelken, and Ana Navarro have claimed that one romance (ballad) that Isabel swears is her own is actually plagiarized from a manuscript dated 1603, eight years before she was born. Unfortunately, these critics do not cite the 1603 manuscript or indicate its location, author, and so on. Despite the tenable veracity of these accusations, no twentieth-century critic has questioned why plagiarized poetry would be approved for publication, nor has there been any attempt to explain why both Isabel and her confessor draw attention to the possible deceit. Manuel de Paredes questions the authorship of the nun's poetry in his preliminary commentaries. Las letras que están junto a las Canciones, en el libro sexto las he puesto, muchas de ellas por que me dixo la Venerable Madre que eran suyas, y otras por que las topé entre sus papeles de su misma letra; y no sabiendo nada en contrario, me pareció conveniente el ponerlas: si hallares alguna que no sea suya, lo atribuirás a ignorancia mía, que no ha visto mucho de versos, y no a malicia, de

Page 8 querer atribuir a la Sierva de Dios lo que no era suyo. (prologue; italics mine) The explanations that accompany the poems, which I placed in the sixth book, many of which are hers, as the Venerable Mother told me that they were hers, and others because I found them among the papers in her handwriting and not knowing otherwise, it seemed appropriate to include them. If you find any poem that is not hers, attribute it to my own ignorance, as I have not seen much poetry, and am not wrongfully trying to attribute to the Servant of God something that is not hers. Her confessor may try to assume responsibility for possible plagiarism to protect Isabel's reputation (essential for the publication of this work). However, Isabel's own disclaimer makes us question her confessor's declaration that he just happened to find some poetry in her handwriting among her papers. Isabel boldly claims authorship of her verses. Me dispuso V.md. escriviese aqui unos versos que hize (que puedo dezir de verdad ser míos, aunque V.md. tenga noticia de averlos visto antes) y juntamente pondré su explicación; que aseguro a V.md. no le será menos gustosa que la de las Canciones. (642; emphasis mine) Your Excellency ordered me to write here some verses that I composed (I can verify that they are mine, although Your Excellency may believe to have seen them before) and with them I will give their explanation; I assure Your Excellency that the glosses will not be any less pleasing than the poems. In these confessional statements, we see one important aspect of the complex confessor-nun relationship: the production of truth telling is mediated and negotiated not only by the confessing nun but also by the authority of the male reader. In History of Sexuality, Michel Foucault describes the power relationship between the interlocutor and the speaking subject of the confession as a "ritual in which the truth is corroborated" (62). 3 Considering, then, that confession in conventual autobiographies implies the presence of both nun and confessor, we cannot question Isabel's version of the "truth" without also questioning the entire authorization mechanism. This process would include not only the confessor but also the numerous ecclesiastical officials involved in the examination and subsequent approval of the nun's life narrative. Nonetheless, some modern critics have failed to recognize that the publication of Isabel's autobiogra-

Page 9 phy proves her innocence within the context of the seventeenth- century rules governing both the production of truth telling and of "lying." Furthermore, we must also consider the oral and popular verse tradition in Spain to understand the confusion with regard to Isabel's poetic authority. Poetry was not only sung but also circulated, copied, and imitated.

4 Many poets based their poetry on prior works, sometimes changing only a few words. For example, when San Juan de la Cruz wrote his version of a poem composed by an anonymous poet in the early sixteenth century, he changed only two words in the first strophe. Even with such slight modification, this version is dramatically different. San Juan based his version on what was previously a profane love theme of the Renaissance, reworking it into a Counter- Reformation religious poem (Gimeno Casalduero 85). Both Santa Teresa and San Juan made a similar modification of " Qué muero porque no muero! (I die because I do not die)," a common topic from the fifteenth century. However, with regard to their poetry, neither San Juan de la Cruz nor Santa Teresa is currently accused of plagiarizing or of being "deluded" or a "fraud." Isabel herself follows San Juan's lesson and provides her own interpretation of the common noche oscura (dark night) theme in his poetry.5

If Isabel de Jesús did copy word for word her last romance, "Adonde no vea viendo" (Where one sees not seeing), we must wonder why both she and her confessor called attention to the authorship issue as if they anticipated criticism or had already been questioned. I believe the answer is found in the fact that she included a prose explanation of the romance. The poem in question is the only romance in Isabel's work accompanied by a prose commentary. Her collection of poetry, chapters 6 through 10 of Book VI, contains nineteen poems without explanations; seven are romances. In addition to this poetry, the collection contains thirty-three canciones (songs) accompanied by prose commentary for each. The last poem in the collection is a romance not included with the others at the beginning and is the subject of the only protestation of authorship as well as an accompanying explanation. Similar to how San Juan and Santa Teresa reworked familiar secular themes to reflect Counter-Reformation religiosity, Isabel de Jesús could also claim poetry as her own by reinterpreting it to express her personal views. Since her confessor had the ultimate editorial control, it would have been easy for him to exclude one brief romance from the publication if he did not believe her claim was valid. The interesting aspect of the confessor's explanation is not found in a defense of the nun's interpretation but rather in a confession of his own ignorance. In an attempt to publish an unknown work,

Page 10 he may have wanted to suggest unintentional plagiarism rather than defend Isabel's capabilities of poetic creation and interpretation. Even if her confessor did not defend her right to claim the poetry as her own, Isabel did: "puedo dezir de verdad ser míos" (642) (I can verify that they are mine). Life Writing in the Convent Isabel's life narrative seems to reflect what Leigh Gilmore describes as "autobiographics": "those elements of self-representational practices and discourses, rather than its consolidated status as an autobiography" (144). Before we survey Isabel's autobiography, written during a period of over ten years, it must be pointed out that her work is a compilation of various notebooks, similar to the writings of the diary genre. She was ordered to write everything, every day for one hour. So when Margarita Nelken criticized Isabel's writings for being "monotonous because of their quantity, interchangeable because of their invariable features" (70-71), she did not consider that they in fact constitute an obra completa (complete work), a combination of autobiography, diary, written confession, religious doctrine, poetry, visions and political commentaries. Isabel de Jesús' autobiography does not resemble certain early modern life narratives such as Santa Teresa's. Teresa wrote the first draft of her Vida (Life) in Toledo in 1562 and later made some revisions and finished the final draft in 1565. Even though Santa Teresa was ordered to record her life on paper, her autobiography did not follow the form of a diary that could not end until death, nor did it contain her entire written work. In the case of Isabel, her narrative was edited, completed, and published by her confessor posthumously. When Isabel wrote, she was well aware of the multifaceted confessor- nun relationship and the written confessional aspect of autobiographical writings in the convent. Spiritual works by women were monitored and edited by a confessor who could provide not only inspiration but also the parameters for the text. The writing nun's constant awareness of the role of her interlocutor in the process of textual authority determines what and how she narrates. Again, the brief references made in the twentieth century to Isabel's work fail to acknowledge the presence of the male interlocutor in her text. The only episode that Serrano y Sanz mentions from Isabel's narrative is based on her account of a four-year infatuation with her cousin: "a love that she describes with great naiveté" (556). Despite Serrano y Sanz's inability to capture any possible authorial con-

Page 11 trol or manipulation of text and/or reader, throughout Isabel's narrative we see again and again that everything she chooses to reveal to her reader has a purpose. So when she explains how she fell in love with this handsome and charming cousin and her reaction on his sudden death when she was fourteen, she chooses to interpret his death for her reader as the sign that redirected her life. She is also very frank, as when she stresses that they did not have sexual relations. En cinco dias murió. . . . Después, como no nos acostamos, me puse a mirarle, y le dixe a mi alma: Mira a lo que has tenido amor; te parece aora hermoso? mira si ay alguna chança que le dé gusto? . . . Me duró algunos días con la consideración de la nada, de que soy tan viva, que ya no me parecia nada bien, ni cosa que fuese desta vida, por darle a mi alma el desear lo eterno. (6) In five days he died. . . . Later, as we had not slept together, I began to stare at him and I said to my soul: Look at whom you have loved. Does he seem beautiful now? Look if there is some chance that you like him? . . . For some days I contemplated the uselessness, since I am so alive, that nothing seemed right now, not even something from this life, because of my soul's desire for eternal life. This episode, far from expressing naïveté, was included to show how and when Isabel decided to reject the secular option for women and dedicate her life to God. Moreover, she may have been asked to explain this potentially indiscreet period to prove that, despite rumors, she was "pure," still a virgin. "Autohagiography" Although prevailing critical thought might not lead one to suspect it, the biographical information about Isabel's life as presented in her own narrative displays numerous elements of traditional hagiography. Kate Greenspan describes what she calls the "autohagiographies" of medieval women mystics, or the autobiographies whose goal is more to prove sainthood than to provide an accurate life account.

6 In this sense, Isabel's autobiography could also be classified as an "autohagiography." Isabel's version of her life has much in common with the characteristics traditionally shared by medieval and early modern saints. Donald Weinstein and Rudolph M. Bell, in Saints and Society (1982), emphasize the importance of early childhood in the life of a potential saint. They claim that between

Page 12 the ages of four and seven, "the saintly child begins to make conscious choices concerning the journey toward sanctity" (25). Like Santa Teresa, who at age seven set out to die as a martyr in the land of the Moors, Isabel showed her saintly orientation at an early age. However, Isabel's first experience was supernatural. She describes how, when she was no more than four or five, a Christ child in a nativity scene spoke to her. Isabel explains that she wanted to take the Christ child in her arms, but she could not reach Him. Miraculously, she was able to pull a heavy bench over to stand on so she could get closer, at which time the baby Jesus reached out his hand to her. Although she was alone when the Christ child spoke and offered his hand, her mother soon saw her on the bench and confirmed the extraordinary scene: "Dezía mi madre, que no sabia cómo no me avia descalabrado, ni cómo avía podido allegar el banco, porque era pesado" (4) (My mother said that she did not know how I had not cracked my head open, nor how I was able to move the bench because it was heavy).

7

Like Santa Teresa, Isabel had eleven siblings. However, Isabel was the youngest and the only girl. The birth order is crucial. According to studies on medieval saints, the mother exerts utmost pressure on an only child or on her last child, because "her one hope of transcending her own destiny" is through the sanctity of her offspring (Weinstein and Bell 46). Weinstein and Bell see the relationship between the mother and her daughter (especially if this girl is an only child or the youngest) as the opportunity for the mother to convince her daughter to reject traditional femininity and the maternal path, to aspire to a level of perfection that the mother could never attain. Isabel fits the picture well: she is both the last and the only female child. Patriarchal Exclusion While the mother's role is central in the early childhood of female saints, the father often plays a minimal role or none at all (Weinstein and Bell). This is the case in Isabel's narrative. The only reference the nun makes to her father is at the beginning of her narrative: "Mis padres fueron muy virtuosos, y muy conformes; tuvieron muchos hijos" (3) (My parents were virtuous and very compliant; they had many children). After this, he is not mentioned again, directly or indirectly. In fact, she does not even record whether she has memories of her father. This exclusion of the patriarch is significant in light of the fact that she includes numerous details about her relationship with her mother and the two brothers she knew

Page 13 best, memories that begin by age four. We know from the prologue written by her confessor that her father, Blas Diez de Ortega, died when Isabel was only seven years old. Her mother, Elena de Sosa y Villaquirán, died when Isabel was thirty years old. (Isabel and at least one other brother mentioned, el licenciado Alonso de Sosa, were given their mother's surname, not that of their father.) It is possible that Isabel knew her father but chose not to include him in her narrative. However, despite Isabel's efforts to preclude her father's presence in her life, her confessor decides to emphasize the father- daughter relationship in his brief introduction to her work: "A los siete se llevó Dios a su padre, que la quería en estremo" (2) (When she was seven, her father, who loved her very much, passed away). Moreover, we have already seen the nun's vivid memory of daily events beginning by age four. Of one of her brothers she writes, "Mi hermano el mayor me desenojava desto, y me dava algun panecillo, y lo queria yo mucho, porque lo hazia callando, y nos entendíamos los dos muy bien" (4) (My oldest brother used to calm me. He would give me a little bread and I loved him very much because he did it without saying a word. We understood each other very well). The father's absence is crucial, as it is the only observation in her confessor's preliminary summary that is not present in Isabel's version of her life. Her confessor considered it necessary information for a 2- page introduction, but Isabel failed to include her father in her 758- page autobiography. Even though, or perhaps because, her biological father is absent, Isabel seems to view the confessors as surrogate fathers. Beginning at age eight, she submits herself to her mother's confessor, as she did not yet have one of her own. At this stage she sees her mother and her mother's confessor as a parental team: "Ya me dió el Confesor de mi madre (que yo nunca tuve Confesor a parte) licencia para comulgar. Aquí fueron las obligaciones que me pusieron, asi mi madre, como el confesor, de ser buena" (4) (My mother's confessor [as I never had my own] gave me permission to receive communion. These were the obligations that they gave me, both my mother and the confessor, to be good). Then, between the ages of ten and fourteen, Isabel seemed to replace the attraction of her early youth to the baby Jesus with attraction to her handsome cousin. We can see the parallel descriptions of both scenes: "Me sentava junto al Nacimiento, y me le estava mirando, y desde allí le dezía muchos amores" (3; emphasis mine) (I sat near the nativity scene, and I would stare at him, and from there I told him many loving thoughts). In the next chapter, instead of the Christ child, she talks of her cousin: "Si le hallava dormido, me le estava mirando, porque era muy hermoso" (5; emphasis mine) (If I found him asleep, I would stare at him, because he was very handsome).

Page 14 However, with the unexpected death of this cousin, she takes another path by rejecting the possibility of secular romance and dedicating her life to God. Elizabeth Petroff, Caroline Walker Bynum, and Elizabeth Robertson, among others, have examined the importance of women's bodies in the writings of medieval mystics. "Writing the body" provided tremendous potential for self-representation in women's mystical autobiographies. For Gilmore, this self-representation can be described as an "illness narrative" that evolves from the body in pain (154). The images of virginity, illness, and physical suffering, in particular, are central to these narratives. Isabel begins her life story with a clarification of her virginal status and then continues with accounts of her illnesses, which represent a call to a holier life. The text reports Isabel's adolescence as years of sickness and suffering caused by the Devil to prevent her from doing good works. Weinstein and Bell describe this period in saints' lives in similar fashion: "Early in life most of these saintly girls began to suffer attacks from demons which they countered with fasting, vigils, and other more extreme austerities" (35). During this stage, the importance of Isabel's confessor begins to grow, and through the voice of the Devil, Isabel expresses concerns about the close relationship she has with her confessor. The Devil refers to suspicions of possible sexual relations between Isabel and her confessor and then argues that it is not too late to marry and enjoy secular life. Both statements allude to a physical relationship, to sex with her confessor or to sex with a husband. Isabel makes further references to being ill and bedridden, a situation that requires a visit from her confessor. This pattern repeats itself especially during her young adult years. In fact, she summons her confessor so frequently because of mysterious illnesses that he treats her like an attention-seeking child: "Te mando, que obedezcas a tu madre en todo lo que te mandare, como si yo te lo mandara . . . porque estoy de prisa, y no me puedo detener" (23) (I order you to obey your mother in everything that she commands, as if I had commanded you . . . because I am in a hurry and cannot be delayed). Even after she becomes a nun, Isabel admits to feeling like a two-year-old child calling to her father-confessor at night. Sor Isabel, for example, describes horrifying demons in the form of monkeys near her bed, which made her call her confessor for comfort. After her confessor's visit, she was no longer afraid. Llamé a V.md. diziendo: Padre mio, ven a socorrer a esta tu hija. . . . El alma estava como si fuera una niña de dos años, que quando la

Page 15 quieren açotar llora, y llama a su madre, o a su padre. (207, emphasis mine) I called Your Excellency saying: Father, come and save your daughter. . . . My soul was as if it were a two-year-old girl who, when they are about to punish her, cries and calls her mother or her father. When her mother died in 1641, Isabel also lost her confessor, who was bedridden with a serious illness. Consequently, her brother stepped in as a father figure. According to her new confessor, Manuel de Paredes, Isabel was thirty years old when her mother died, at which time her brother took over the role of father. Worried about who would take care of Isabel in the future, her brother wanted to arrange a marriage for her. Isabel strongly opposed this option as she had already made a vow of chastity. She laments the dilemma created by her brother's wish that she marry and her own desire to become the bride of Christ. Here, as on numerous other occasions in the text, she reveals ulterior motives for rejecting marriage, such as the independence of being single: "no por estar en mi libertad, sino por no salir un punto de lo que vos quéreis" (42) (not because I desire my freedom but because I do not want to deviate from what you will). Despite her protestation, Isabel makes the connection between freedom and not committing to secular marriage. This rejection of men and secular marriage is recurrent throughout the text. Before her mother died, both the Devil and another girl tried to convince her to marry. Este enemigo perseguidor, que no duerme, me traia mil pensamientos, . . . me traía el que ya estás con buena salud, no te dexes caer tanto, que eres muy moça; bien te puedes poner como las otras, y andar al uso; tú no eres Beata, y piensan todos que lo eres, no seas singular, sino anda como todas, y te casarás, que en todos estados se salvan. Con esto, y con aver en casa una doncella que me dezía lo mismo, me davan muy malos ratos. (34) This relentless enemy, who does not sleep, appeared to me with a thousand thoughts, . . . such as, you are still healthy, do not allow yourself to weaken so much, you are so young. You can become like the other girls and be normal. You are no holy woman, and everyone thinks that you are; do not be unique but like all the others and you will get married. People of all stations can be saved. Because of this and because there was a young girl who would tell me the same, I suffered very bad times.

Page 16 These thoughts, attributed to the Devil, while revealing conflicting ideas about secular and conventual life, insist on the superiority of the religious vocation. According to the Devil's comments, while Isabel was trying to enter the convent, she was already considered by others to be worthy of becoming the bride of Christ. A Question of Finances Shortly after her brother died and two years after her mother had died, Isabel was beset by the financial burden of being a single woman unable to support herself: she was not willing to marry for money and did not have the money to enter the convent. After Isabel began living with a rich old man who was ill, she found herself in a compromising situation. When the old man recovered, he began to make sexual advances toward her: "Vino a llamarme, como la primera, con palabras que no son para dichas, que ofendian los oidos" (53) (He called me, like the first time, with offensive words that are not proper to speak). Subsequent to Isabel's rejection of his offer, he appeared with a formal, written proposal of marriage. After the initial sexual proposition, she considered the monetary benefits, as his money could help her join the convent: "No era malo el darme dote para ser Monja" (53) (It would not be bad to receive the dowry to become a nun). However, to avoid direct confrontation after the marriage proposal, she told him to talk to her confessor. When she consulted her confessor, she received disturbing advice. He mentioned that her brother had not left her enough money to live comfortably and that marrying this rich man would relieve her of any financial burdens. She immediately reminded him that she did not seek his guidance to improve her material conditions but to improve her spiritual life: "Yo no vengo a V.md. aquí a acomodar la vida del cuerpo, sino la de mi alma" (53) (I do not come to Your Excellency to improve my physical life but rather my spiritual life). When Isabel compares marriage to mortification or suffering, she rejects not only this financial-sexual arrangement but also the supposedly spiritual advice of her confessor. Again she maintains her independence, despite the hardships this entails. To become a nun, a dowry was required to pay the costs of running a convent. During the mid-1600s when Isabel was trying to join the convent, the average dowry fluctuated between 600 and 800 ducados de vellón (Sánchez Lora 133).

8 Because of her family's poverty, Isabel spent years doing good works and services to solicit contributions for the Church, thereby compensating for the inability

Page 17 to donate her own money. Although she had the opportunity to keep some of the money offered to her by the generous donors she counseled, Isabel preferred a holier life of poverty. Despite Isabel's insistence on her choice to maintain an austere style of living, financial concerns about marriage and the convent followed her in other situations. When the nun refused to accept a note from the relative of a priest, insisting instead that he should talk to her confessor, he disregarded her and put the note at the head of her bed. Terrified by what the note might contain, she returned it to him unread. She attributes her fears to diabolical mental torments. No quiere Dios que te salves por este camino, sino que te cases, que este hombre no pretende cosa mala, sino casarse, . . . y todo lo que tiene el Cura será tuyo, con más propiedad que lo es aora, y puedes hazer más limosnas que hazes aora; y si no fuera voluntad de Dios, no te pusiera las ocasiones en las manos. (79) God does not want you to save yourself in this way, but rather that you get married. This man is not proposing anything evil, except to marry you, . . . and all that the priest has will be yours, with more value than it has now, and you can do more charity work than you do now; and if it were not God's will, he would not have placed the opportunity in your hands. Her thoughts have turned to the financial benefits of marriage. With extra money, Isabel could better serve God. However, Isabel defends the lifestyle of a single woman outside the protective roof of the convent, claiming that in the four years she spent alone since the death of her mother and brother, she had survived without any difficulties. Antimarriage Isabel's confessors and brother and even the Devil himself tried to talk her into secular marriage. But she did not succumb. Her fear of marriage and weddings was so intense that once, when invited to a wedding, terror overwhelmed her, and she searched desperately for an excuse not to attend. Esto de hallarme yo en bodas, no sabia como avia de ser, porque no me he hallado en ninguna, . . . hallavame molestada de malisimos pensamientos acerca de ir a este combite de la boda, . . . pedi me diera la compañera un poco de chocolate, y dentro de un

Page 18 quarto de hora parecia que quería rebentar; . . . y después me dio tantos bómitos, que en toda la noche no sosegaron, que pasaron de más de treinta; . . con aquesto quedase todo compuesto, y el no ir a la boda. (132-133) This business about finding myself mixed up in weddings, well I did not know what would happen because I had never been to one before, . . . I found myself bothered by the most horrible thoughts about having to go to this wedding party, . . . I asked my companion to give me a little chocolate, and within a quarter of an hour I felt like I was about to burst open; . . . and then afterwards I became so nauseated that the vomiting lasted all night. I vomited more than thirty times. . . . In the end everything turned out fine as I did not have to go to the wedding.

9

It is evident in Isabel's narrative that her refusal of a secular life with men, marriage, and sex was problematic for her. In a sexual vision, Isabel imagines two handsome men questioning her celibacy in the convent instead of enjoying the pleasures of being with the opposite sex. The male demonic figures ask Isabel why she runs from them: ''Piensas que los hombres no sabemos, y podemos consolarte?'' (223) (Do you think that men do not know how or cannot comfort you?). Then when two women enter the room, the male demons demonstrate their skills "con acciones deshonestas, y palabras torpisimas" (223) (with lewd actions and very rude words). This scene is one of many in which Isabel associates men with the Devil. The eternal goal of the Devil is to keep Isabel from her work as a nun. Isabel sees conjugal relations as a temptation to divert her from her holy calling. No matter how much she is tortured, Isabel always emerges victorious. Her extensive text is testimony to her ability to continue writing despite constant torments related to the act of writing. In a supernatural miracle symbolic of her desire not to be controlled by male-dominated society, Isabel is able to make a stray bull kneel to her: "Haziendo con todo la señal de la Santa Cruz, arrodilló de manera, que puso el hocico en el suelo, y bolvióse su camino, y no hizo mal a nadie" (131) (When I made the sign of the Holy Cross, the bull kneeled down as he put his snout on the ground and then turned and went the other way and did no harm to anybody). Xosé Ramón Mariño Ferro describes the bull as a demonic animal, its horns and genitalia symbolic of lust (93). Isabel, nonetheless, is able to intimidate this powerful and dangerous beast. She subdues the bull, symbol of male virility, just as she refuses the option of sex and marriage.

Page 19 Obedience and Rebellion Although the mother's role in the lives of young female saints can be decisive, the father can sometimes gain importance later as an opposing force (Weinstein and Bell). In Isabel's narrative, father figures appear as adversaries. Isabel manipulates the concepts of obedience and rebellion to ultimately prove her piety. At times she presents herself as obedient and claims to follow the commands of men in positions of authority. She uses the requisite of obedience to justify exclusions in her narrative: "No las pongo aquí, porque no es lo que me mandan" (48) (I do not include these things here because it is not what they order me to write). And conversely, she excuses her digressions or inclusions by saying, "Me manda la obediencia que lo diga todo" (116) (Obedience requires me to record everything). However, Isabel often reveals an inability to remain obedient that serves many functions. First, her rebellious nature fulfills the false humility topos required of religious women. When she disobeys her confessors' mandates, she actually becomes more saintly. In a dramatic display reminiscent of the mortification exercises of Santa Catalina de Siena, Isabel performed acts of martyrdom without permission from the priests: "Lamíale la llaga, hizelo algunos dias; y deziame que sentia gran regalo, . . . hazia esto quando no lo via el Cura, porque si lo viera, no me dexara lo hiziera" (82) (I licked the wound for a few days. And I was told that he felt great relief, . . . this I did when the priest could not see because if he were to see it, he would not have allowed me to continue). In similar fashion, Isabel justifies not confessing everything in the past by claiming that her confessor would not have allowed her to continue the pious activities and other mortifications that might have been harmful to her wellbeing. She makes it clear that deceiving her confessor was not motivated by the fear of punishment but by the desire to continue suffering for God and helping others. Isabel, in fact, suggests that her confessor is an obstacle to her sainthood.

10 However, the penitent nun is also aware that sainthood is a process of confession and publication and that the confessor was a potential saint maker. Mindful of this textual process of saint making, many women writers like Isabel manipulated the confessor-penitent/writer- editor partnership.

Despite Isabel's claim that at times her confessor proved to be an obstacle in her road to sainthood, the need for a priest to support her decision to become a nun is evident in her narrative. Isabel clearly explains how she needed the help of a Carmelite confessor to join the Carmelite order. She seemed to view the convent as a private club not open to every-

Page 20 one, especially not open to those without "connections." Antonio Dominguez Ortiz confirms this system of favoritism. He notes that in 1674 "there was a waiting list of 160 petitions for the convents in Madrid. The excessive number of solicitors created favoritism in the selection process" (quoted in Vigil [209]). Isabel writes, "Y como siempre me llevaba la voluntad a tomar este Abito, me parecia que no teniendo Confesor Carmelita, que no lo conseguiria'' (142) (And as I always desired to join this order, it seemed to me that by not having a Carmelite confessor, that I would not achieve it). In the chapters preceding the moment Isabel became a nun, the central topics in her narrative are her great desire to become a nun and the campaign to convince her confessor to mobilize the process. She expresses a lack of trust in the sincerity of her confessor at that time: "Me dava buenas esperanças, que si, que si; mas yo pensava que lo dezia por consolarme, y siempre no cesava de pedirselo" (167) (He gave me great hope, saying yes, yes; but I thought that he said this only to console me, and so I never stopped asking him). It seems that becoming the bride of Christ was not problem-free for Isabel. According to her narrative, she was obligated to petition so forcefully that at times her pleas seemed more like begging. However, the real members of the "Carmelite Club" invited and encouraged Isabel to join. Not surprisingly, these special Carmelite saints were women. Although Isabel may have felt excluded from the Carmelites, an order controlled by men, she envisions a superior religious order led by Santa Leocadia and Santa Teresa. During a vision in which she imagines a procession of saintly women, Santa Leocadia encourages her to persist in her efforts to join the order. Santa Leocadia me mirava; yo con mucho gozo la mirava; dixome: Devota mia, mira, y goza lo que aquí te se ha mostrado; y digote, que quien con paciencia sufre las tribulaciones, y trabajos . . . serás del mismo Abito, y vivirás en paz. (161) Saint Leocadia watched me; and with much pleasure I watched her. She said to me: "My devout, look and delight in what has been shown to you here. And I say to you, that those who suffer trials and tribulations with patience . . . you will be of the same order and you will live in peace." In another vision, Isabel imagines both Santa Teresa and Santa Leocadia dressing her in her nun's wedding gown: "Esta vestidura la tomó mi Madre Santa Teresa, y señora Santa Leocadia, y me la vistieron" (168) (My mother

Page 21 Saint Teresa took these clothes, and with Saint Leocadia, they both dressed me). Santa Leocadia: Patron Saint of Toledo Santa Leocadia plays an especially important role in the life of Isabel de Jesús. This saint appears more frequently in the text than Santa Teresa and seems to be a motivating force in Isabel's life. Santa Leocadia (died A.D. 304), virgin, martyr, and the principal patroness of Toledo, was known for her suffering under Diocletian and for being tortured by the governor Dacian (Holweck 601; Thurston and Attwater 524). When Santa Leocadia's remains were translated to Toledo in 1587, great festivities were celebrated there. As a result, Miguel Hernández published Vida, martirio y translacion de la virgen y martir Sancta Leocadia (Life, Martyrdom, and Translation of the Virgin and Martyr Saint Leocadia) in 1591 (Forcione 318). Likewise, Francisco de Pisa's 1605 history of Toledo has a special section concerning Santa Leocadia. Pisa narrates Dacian's cruelty against the beautiful and noble Leocadia, who endured the persecution "with a happy face and a constant and masculine heart" (3). While in prison, Leocadia was moved by the story of Saint Eulalia's sufferings. According to Pisa, Leocadia put her thumb against the stone prison wall and an imprint of a holy cross appeared "with the same ease as if it were butter" (ibid.). Pisa's text emphasizes Santa Leocadia's importance to the people of Toledo and the special relationship between them. Saint Leocadia has always been and is held and esteemed by the people of Toledo with the honor of our native patron saint: . . . And many noble and good Christians like . . . to give the name Leocadia to their daughters when they are baptized . . . so that they remember to imitate her virtues and to keep her as their special protector in time of need. (8) Works like those of Pisa and Hernández published in Toledo indicate the popularity of the Leocadia cult, especially in that city during the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century. Given that the history of Toledo and its patron saint were available to everyone, regardless of gender or educational background, it seems clear that regional pride in Santa Leocadia revitalized a role model for the young Toledan women. Since Isabel de Jesús was a product of this generation, this influence is also

Page 22 evident in her life narrative. There are many parallels between Pisa's interpretation of Leocadia's life and Isabel's version of her own life. Pisa describes the cruel Dacian as a "minister of Satan" who administers increasingly vicious tortures to prevent Leocadia from being a pious Christian. Similarly, Isabel's narrative reveals how the Devil torments her verbally and physically to keep her from doing Christ's work. Isabel describes the tortures inflicted on her by two horrifying demons and then makes a connection between her suffering and her imitation of Santa Leocadia's life. Me tiraron a la pared, y me quitaron los pocos vestidos que tenia, y levantando aquellos látigos que traian, me açotaron todo el cuerpo, . . . y luego llamé a mi Santa Leocadia, y le dezia: Santa mia, o si yo os imitara en algo de tanto como padecistes! (206) They threw me against the wall and ripped off the little clothes I had. Raising their whips, they lashed my entire body . . . and later I called my Saint Leocadia and said to her: "Oh my Saint, if only I could somehow imitate how you suffered!" In addition to possible literary parallels between Leocadia's life and Isabel's, the iconographic tradition of the saint is also apparent in Isabel's autobiography. Included in the dramatic story of Leocadia's holy suffering is the vivid image of her kneeling in the dark cell before she performs her miracle of the imprint of the cross: "placing her knees on the ground of the deep prison, . . . she placed her thumb against the very hard rock of the wall of the jail and using her thumb left an imprint of the sign of the cross in the hollow of the rock" (Pisa 3). Not surprisingly, one standard pictorial representation of Santa Leocadia shows her kneeling in the prison cell (Bentley 237). The iconography of Leocadia has left an impact on Isabel's work. One frequent visual depiction of religious women who wrote and published showed them with pen or book in hand. This type of iconography, typical of Santa Teresa, Sor Maria de Agreda, Sor Marcela de San Félix, Sor Maria de la Antigua, and many others, shows the strength and authority of the woman writer inspired by God, implying their role as spokespersons. Another possible representation of religious women was the Santa Leocadia pose, kneeling in prayer. This nonliterary portrait emphasizes the humility, piety, and suffering of the holy woman. Instead of underscoring the role of authoritative writer, these representations stress the role of humble martyr. The visual portrait of Isabel included in her autobiography does not depict her writing, as was common during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Instead, it shows her in a kneeling

Page 23 position similar to representations of Leocadia (fig. 1). It may at first seem surprising that Isabel's portrait did not follow the tradition of Santa Teresa and the holy pen, especially since her life was dominated by the theme of writing. Considering Isabel's connection to Santa Leocadia and her apparent goal of presenting writing as one of her most difficult mortifications, this image is more appropriate. The purpose of her life narrative is clear from the beginning. Her confessor chose the title "Hidden Treasure. . . Found and Uncovered after Death. . . ," implying an absence of authorial claim. Even Pisa clarifies the need for young women to use Leocadia as an example of humble suffering and charitable works and not to try to emulate spectacular miracles that draw attention and demand reverence. As a lesson for impressionable readers, Pisa emphasizes that the glory the saints enjoy in heaven was not earned by their miracles but by their virtuous deeds. This "antimiracle" attitude seems to be directed at the numerous women who were claiming a voice in theology based on miracles, visions, and other supernatural gifts from God. Isabel's narrative is also full of miracles, visions, and supernatural events, but it is cloaked in an antiauthorial voice, a negation of the act of writing or claiming a religious or personal voice. Pisa tried to encourage holy and well- behaved women, not seekers of notoriety. Especially after Santa Teresa gained such fame and popularity, the consciousness-raising of religious women seemed unstoppable. As a result, the seventeenth century is characterized by a campaign to control what Teresa had begun when she proved that women could be audible as well as visible in the Church. The "Santa Teresa Syndrome" and the Approbations By the time Isabel de Jesús was writing, Teresa de Jesús had already been canonized and inducted into the Catholic hall of fame. Her canonization showed women everywhere that the "weaker sex" could find a voice in a repressive and misogynist system. As nuns began imitating Santa Teresa by claiming religious authority through visions and writing, it was clear that the patriarchal power structure needed to find ways to control and silence them. This was a contradictory endeavor as an active, visible, and verbal woman had just received the Church's seal of approval. One way to justify the holiness of a woman writer without denying female inferiority is to declare this individual an "exception to the rule." The "rule" established by early Church fathers was derived from Saint Paul who commanded women to be silent in the churches. Medieval and early

Page 24 modern attitudes about women's active participation in "literary culture" was shaped by biblical prohibitions of women's right of expression in the Church. Fray Gabriel de San Joseph's approbation of Isabel's narrative anticipates all possible objections to publishing a religious work written by a woman. Among the list of usual objections is the argument based on the first misogynist mandate: "Dize el Apóstol . . . que las mugeres no han de enseñar en las Iglesias, y menos en estos tiempos, en que toda quanta doctrina nos pueden enseñar, la hallamos en tantos y tan excelentes libros de varones santisimos, y doctísimos" (Approbation by Fray Gabriel de San Joseph) (The Apostle says . . . that women should not teach in the churches, and much less in our times, as any doctrine that they could teach us we can find in many excellent books by educated and holy men). Fray Gabriel responds with three arguments: first, that Saint Paul was not referring to all women, only to married women; second, that the apostle spoke of teaching and preaching from the pulpit but not of educating through the written word; third, that there ought to be an exception to the rule for rare and exceptional women, in which case the reasons used to justify silence would be nullified. Fray Gabriel concludes that allowing women to write should not challenge the expected humility and respect that these women display toward their male superiors. The men writing the approbations and censures had to justify the publication of Isabel's autobiography without disturbing the patriarchal power structure. The original premise that women remain silent in the Church is not disputed. Fray Gabriel does not deny that, in general, women are "envious, complaining, backbiting, mordant, anxious, desperate, imprudent, and liars much more than men and are easier to deceive." However, all these common qualities are absent in the "rarisimas mugeres" (exceptional women), the exceptions to the rule. Isabel is presented as one of these anomalies, which allows her to maintain the required humility and modesty. It seems, then, that the "rare and exceptional women" assessment was the one loophole in an oppressive system which allowed the clergy to occasionally publish a work penned by a woman while still upholding the traditional rule of silence for women in the Church. In response to the criticism that there are already numerous books written by men, so why publish another by a woman, Fray Gabriel affirms the value of experience. Like Santa Teresa, these rare women have practical experience instead of education, and this enables them to explain mystic doctrine in a more simplified, and thus beneficial, manner to someone in need.

Page 25 If the first objection to women writing is based on the rule of silence, the second major obstacle was the question of whether the revelations and visions claimed by these women were true or false. Again Santa Teresa's name is invoked in an attempt to prevent other nuns from claiming religious authority through revelations. After her death, Teresa was believed to have appeared to Madre Catalina de Jesús, saying, "Que no se escrivan revelaciones, ni se haga caso dellas; porque aunque es verdad que muchas son verdaderas, pero también se sabe que son muchas falsas, y mentirosas, y que es cosa recia andar sacando una verdad entre cien mentiras" (Approbation by Fray Gabriel de San Joseph) (Their visions should not be recorded, nor should they pay attention to them; because although it is true that many are truthful, it is also known that many are false and dishonest and it is difficult to find one truth from among a hundred lies). Fray Gabriel then explains how Santa Teresa's message was misinterpreted and misquoted as "Que de cien revelaciones, las noventa y nueve son falsas" (Out of one hundred revelations, ninety-nine are false). He responds by insisting that many holy men and women have published their revelations, and as long as there is a disclaimer at the start clarifying that revelations are no more credible than any other "historia humana" there is no harm in publishing them. Fray Gabriel also states the danger in misquoting Santa Teresa. According to the text, "many'' was changed to "one hundred," and from that appeared the inaccurate assertion that out of one hundred revelations, ninety- nine are false. In fact, Fray Gabriel notes the irony of a revelation claiming that most revelations are false: ''Con la misma proposición se haze sospechosa esta revelación" (By its very nature this revelation becomes suspicious). Nonetheless, his defense of women's right to write is ultimately supported by traditional beliefs. Fray Gabriel explains why Santa Teresa appeared to Catalina de Jesús instructing her to tell the padre provincial that the nuns should not pay attention to or record their revelations on paper: the priest at that time had an excessive attraction to visions and, as a result, encouraged the nuns to experience them and then write about them. Women should not stop reporting their revelations, explains Fray Gabriel, but should do so only when the prelate or confessor commands it or if there is some other urgent reason. Fray Gabriel de San Joseph is not the only priest who defends the publication of Isabel's autobiography based on the "rare precedent" set by Santa Teresa. Fray Juan Joseph de Baños also uses Santa Teresa as the exception that allows Isabel's work to be printed. In the following pas-

Page 26 sage we can see the tenuous balance between trying to prove that the writings penned by a woman are worth publishing while at the same time carefully reaffirming the humble and silent position assigned to women. Pues sin luz sobrenatural parece imposible que una muger sin letras diga lo que dize; las altas materias de que trata, y tan dificultosas; el estilo tan particular, por una parte tan humilde, y llano, por otra tan grave, y sentencioso, tan misterioso como significativo; con un atractivo tan raro, y peregrino. (Approbation by Fray Juan Joseph de Baños) Since without supernatural inspiration it seems impossible that an uneducated woman could say what she says. The advanced and difficult material that she considers, the particular style, on the one hand, humble and plain, and on the other hand, serious and sententious, as mysterious as it is significant; with a rare and unique appeal. In fact, supernatural intervention is necessary to enable an uneducated woman to write about religious doctrine. Consequently, Isabel's document serves as material proof of the validity of her revelations from God. Nonetheless, the aforementioned censure also emphasizes the numerous annotations written by an "hombre docto" (learned man) and included in the edition to clarify the advanced doctrine that Isabel, as a woman, was unable to explain. Throughout all the approbations and censures, perhaps the strongest argument used to promote the publication of Isabel's work is based on the concept of the "hidden treasure."

11 The defense used in the approbations emphasizes Isabel's silence and humility. According to the narrative, she remained virtually unknown until she died. In his censure of Isabel's work, Fray Alonso Franco de Ulloa writes, "Ocultava tanto sus virtudes, que no eran conocidas, y por eso más seguras; aunque vivía en las Ciudades, no sabian de ella" (She hid her virtues so well that they were not known and therefore more trustworthy; even though she lived in cities, nobody knew of her). His argument weakens when one considers that such anonymity is much easier to maintain in the city than in a small village. The censors stress that Isabel never wanted to record her virtues but that her confessors forced her to write against her will. According to the comments in the preliminary approbations, her writing was the result of her obedience, and her professed anonymity was the result of her humility. In his censure, Fray Francisco Ximénez de Mayorga explains the dichotomy of silent writing: ''Descubrirse escriviendo por obedecer, y

Page 27 ocultarse conociéndose por humillarse" (Revealing herself by writing out of obedience, and hiding what she knew of herself out of humility). The contradiction of the silent pen, or an anonymous writer, is also repeated by her confessor, Manuel de Paredes: "Preguntemos en esta Ciudad quién fue Isabel de Jesús? dónde vivia? qué vida era la suya? casi no avrá quien la conozca: . . . Quién habla por ella? Quién ha de ser sino el Señor; y sabido por qué, porque toda su vida se enseñó a callar, y vivir en el sagrado de su retiro" (If we ask in this city who was Isabel de Jesús? where did she live? what was her life like? there almost would not be anybody who knew her: . . . Who then speaks for her? Who else but the Lord. And why? Because during her whole life she was taught to keep silence and live in sacred seclusion). Then, quoting Psalms, Paredes continues the concept of the silent pen moved by God, as Isabel is the humble pen through which Christ speaks. There is yet another aspect of Isabel's narrative as a tesoro escondido that can be associated with the account of Santa Leocadia. In Pisa's prologue to his history of Santa Leocadia, her relics are referred to as the "precious treasure" that was once hidden for safe-keeping and later uncovered and returned to Toledo in 1587. Isabel de Jesús' life narrative was also a treasure "hidden" and later "found and uncovered.'' The fact that Isabel was unknown in the city of Toledo is proof of the hidden nature of her life. Moreover, the main theme of her life as a nun was the torture and violent suffering caused by having to write. Isabel's anonymity and literary hesitancy were easily manipulated in the approbations as evidence of her humble resistance to claiming religious authority through writing. Nonetheless, one must ask, why did they choose to uncover this hidden treasure? One possible explanation is offered by Fray Francisco Garcia y Castilla, who associates Isabel's death in 1682 with the centenary celebration of Santa Teresa's death: "En este siglo, y centenario que ha corrido desde la Serafica Doctora y Madre Santa Teresa de Jesus (cuyo cumplimiento ha puesto la Venerable Isabel de Jesús, pues murió esta en el año de 1682, y Santa Teresa en el de 1582)" (In this century and centennial since the death of the seraphic doctor and mother Saint Teresa de Jesús [whose anniversary coincides with the death of the venerable Isabel de Jesús, as she died in this year of 1682 and Saint Teresa in that of 1582]). In his approbation, Fray Francisco discusses the connection between their common name, de Jesús. Fray Manuel de Paredes's connection with the publisher Julian de Paredes may have facilitated the publication of the voluminous life narrative of an unknown woman. Other reasons why this autobiography was published may involve protecting

Page 28 the various confessors who guided Isabel and commanded her to write. The approbation of this work for publication would certainly defend their actions. When the priests wrote the letters of approval, they did not know if the autobiography would be judged orthodox and accepted for publication or condemned as heretical. Thus they were placing their own reputations on the line. Accordingly, it was in the best interests of all priests involved to present Isabel as a "treasure" worthy of discovery, yet hidden. In this way, the publication of Isabel's life would not challenge the dominant ideology of the patriarchal order. Given the dramatic nature of Isabel's visions and supernatural experiences, and to avoid accusations of demonic involvement or heresy, it was necessary for the church officials to present her life as one that follows the holy example of a saint. Weinstein and Bell identify the three general requirements for canonization in the seventeenth century: doctrinal purity, heroic virtue, and miraculous intercession after death (141). The approval for publication of Isabel's life narrative could help to prove the first two requirements, but the third requisite seemed still to be pending after her death. In the concluding chapter written by Isabel's confessor after her death, he describes the public's reaction to Isabel's postmortem appearance: "Nadie dixera sino que era rostro de una doncella de veinte años, no quedando arruga ninguna en su rostro. . . . La aclamó el Pueblo por Santa" (742) (The people only said that her face was that of a twentyyear-old girl, with no wrinkles at all . . . . The people proclaimed her a saint). They also showed others signs of their devotion to Isabel, such as kissing her feet and requesting personal items that belonged to her. Despite the important role of public veneration in the beatification and canonization process, the text makes no indication that public interest continued with the same fervor after her burial. Although Isabel was presented as "saintlike" in life and death, there are no accounts of miraculous intercession after death. Instead of trying to prove sainthood, the text uses the characteristics associated with holy women to distinguish Isabel de Jesús from the dangerous group of heretical nuns involved in comparable but diabolically inspired supernatural or fraudulent experiences. These characteristics are discussed in the next chapter.

Page 29

2 The Devil, Nausea, and "Monjas Embaucadoras" Misogyny, Theology, and Demonology Misogyny, theology, and demonology have historically gone hand in hand. Teachings based on the Scriptures insist on women's intellectual and spiritual inferiority. Like Eve, most women were believed to be weak and susceptible to the Devil's temptations: "Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor" (I Timothy 2:14). An overview of the various factors involved in this legacy can help explain how the figure of the Devil was manipulated against women during the early modern period and how Isabel de Jesús reappropriated the Devil and his agents to resist this misogynist policy toward women writing in the Church. Indeed, Isabel found in writing a means of empowerment. In his 1575 treatise, Examen de ingenios, the physician Juan Huarte de San Juan describes the physiological characteristics in women that led the Devil to tempt Eve instead of Adam: "Coldness and moisture are the qualities that destroy rationality . . . which, understood by the Devil, went to tempt her. He did not dare to reason with man because he feared his intelligence and knowledge" (614). Two years before the publication of Huarte's work, Santa Teresa wrote about convent melancholy or, as Alison Weber describes it, the "humoral imbalance brought on by poor diet, isolation, and excessive acts of mortification" ("Saint" 181). Teresa specifies in her Libro de las fundaciones how this condition facilitated the Devil's ability to harm penitent nuns.

1 Similarly, the Inquisition's seventeenth-century treatises on visions and prophecies reinforced the belief that women were more "melancholic'' than men and consequently had more active imaginations, making them easy prey for the wiles of the Devil (Kagan 115). The seventeenth-century theologian Gaspar Navarro reiterates this attitude as he claims that one must first consider the gender of the person under examination: "Because the feminine sex is weaker intellectually and they consider natural occurrences or demonic illusions

Page 30 to be Godly or sent from heaven. They dream more than men and they think their dreams are true" (Deleito y Piñuela 204).

2

Mystic theology provided many women with a new spiritual empowerment without negating the belief in their lack of intellectual capacity. Mysticism required emotion and experience, not education or reason. Given the increasing influence of beatas (lay holy women) and visionary nuns during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Inquisition's zealous interest in examining women is not surprising.3 The challenge to the male ecclesiastical order was to determine whether the female visionaries and mystics were divinely inspired or engaged in fraudulent or demonic behavior. It was in the interests of the Church to show that their piety was deceptive, and Inquisitors commonly used accusations of alumbradismo (Illuminism), religious fakery, witchcraft, sorcery, and demonic possession to discredit the spiritual works of women.4 In a move to discourage women mystics from claiming a theological voice of their own, the Church published the Edict of Denunciations, an annual report of all "errors" against the Catholic faith (Lea, Religious 300). Public knowledge of visions and other professed favors from God could be used to support and defend the holiness of the nun, or they could be used against her in the testimonies of witnesses who believed her revelations to be fraudulent. Regardless of the outcome, the fact remained that any woman engaged in supernatural experiences walked a tightrope; trying to arrive at the safe end of sainthood, many fell into the hands of trained Inquisitors who used accusations of "alumbrada" or liar, cheater, and demoniac to prosecute them. Cases in Toledo Other women from Toledo who enjoyed a following were arrested and tried for heresy. One of these was Francisca de los Apóstoles, also known as Francisca de Avila. Francisca was a religious "ecstatic" arrested by the Inquisition in 1574 and charged with heresy. She was associated with the controversial archbishop of Toledo imprisoned by the Inquisition in 1559. As Richard L. Kagan concludes, "For the authorities, thus, Francisca was both a religious heretic and a political subversivea threat to both church and state" (11). At the auto de fe in Toledo on June 9, 1591, Maria de Morales was sentenced to one hundred lashes and a year's banishment based on creating a false reputation for holiness by feigned trances, revelations, and prophecies. This ceremony was attended by Felipe II and his children (Lea, Religious 343).

Page 31 The trial of a secular woman, Lucrecia de León, dramatizes the complexity of these cases. Lucrecia initially claimed her political dreams were just dreams, not diabolic illusions, but after various interrogations and torture sessions, she altered her story. Kagan assigns blame to the religious and legal order: "Her supporters claimed that her dreams were divinely inspired, but the inverted legal and moral order depicted in the dreams convinced others she was dim- witted or insane" (165). The news of Lucrecia's political dreams circulated so widely that she became a celebrity in Toledo and elsewhere. The furor caused by Lucrecia's dreams is significant, since the trials took place in Toledo not long before Isabel de Jesús was born. Isabel most likely heard about these events, as did Santa Teresa during the sixteenth century. Alison Weber argues that Teresa lived "under the shadow of Magdalena de la Cruz" as well as other women accused of demonic deceptions (Teresa 44). One common element in most of the cases of the prophetic nuns and tertiaries is the fact that they enjoyed much public veneration as a result of their visions, ecstasies, and prophecies. However, this notoriety lasted only until the Inquisition initiated the allegations against them. Lorenza de Simancas, a Franciscan tertiary, was revered for sixteen years in Valladolid because of her continual trances, until her arrest in 1634. During three examinations before the trial, she maintained the validity of her visions. After suffering intense torture, however, she confessed that it was all deception created for personal gain (Lea, Religious 351). Another Franciscan nun who garnered even more popularity until the inevitable Inquisitional investigation was Luisa de la Ascención. According to Henry Charles Lea, Luisa was "reverenced as though already canonized during life. . . . Philip IV venerated her and popes were her correspondents" (Religious 352). The Franciscans made at least two hundred thousand ducats through Sor Luisa, not to mention the publicity they would have derived should she be canonized after her death. Despite her vast popularity, she was convicted of heresy and died soon after the trial in 1636. Considering the political favor bestowed on women religious such as Luisa de la Ascención and Sor Maria de Agreda, who was also likely to be canonized (she had a close relationship with Felipe IV), the outcome of Santa Teresa's case seems particularly fortunate.

5

During the first eleven years of Isabel de Jesús' life, conservative churchmen were still debating the orthodoxy of Teresa de Jesús. The debate continued even after 1622, when she was canonized. Lea attributes her success to the favor shown her by Felipe II and Felipe III: "But for the fortunate accident that Philip II became interested in her she would probably have come down to us as one of the crowd of beatas revelanderas

Page 32 whom it was the mission of the Inquisition to suppress. . . . At the insistence of Philip III she was beatified by Paul V in 1614 and canonized in 1622 by Gregory XV" (Religious 284, 286). All these cases both in and outside Toledo during the seventeenth century are important here because Isabel de Jesús traveled extensively with the Carmelites on their religious missions in Spain and North Africa. Accordingly, she was directly exposed not only to the local Toledan scandals but also to those of other cities and villages through which she may have passed in one of her four journeys to Morocco to visit the suffering Christian prisoners. Demonic Involvement One common justification for the accusation of false ecstasies, visions, revelations, stigmata or prophecies is based on the assessment of demonic involvement rather than divine intervention. The concept of "supernatural" activity is central in the discussion of women's behavior, both inside and outside the Church. The same supernatural elements observed in occurrences ascribed to demonic causes could also be noted in the exceptional lives of saints and holy nuns blessed with the miraculous powers of God. Many saints and other pious women, including Santa Catalina de Siena, Santa Teresa, Sor Maria de Santo Domingo (Beata de Piedrahita), and Sor Maria de Agreda, whose works and ideas were investigated by the Inquisition, were accused of heresy but later proved innocent. Although these cases were eventually shown to be free of any demonic intervention, the Holy Office continued to view supernatural favors as suspect. H. C. Erik Midelfort describes two types of diabolic activity in early modern Europe: witchcraft and demonic possession (108-9). The difference between the two is based on intent. The witch entered willingly into a pact with Satan, "while the possessed were those who passively, involuntarily endured the external and internal assaults of the Devil" (Midelfort 116). The division of opinion in most cases indicates the controversy in determining if the woman in question is helped by God or the Devil, or is just pretending. In addition to all the women who claimed divine assistance, there are testimonies of others who confessed to diabolic intervention. Confession was believed to be the only true way to prove demonic involvement; however, many times such confessions were obtained under duress or torture (Szasz, Manufacture 28). The testimonies of nuns who did confess to working with the Devil were used to justify cases against

Page 33 other women involved in questionable activity. For example, accusations of diabolical possession were used against Magdalena de la Cruz to elicit a confession despite the fact that she had been long praised for having the gift of prophecy (Giles 81; Perry, Gender 83). Witchcraft and sorcery differ in that a witch is born with the natural capacity for occult harm, whereas a sorcerer has no innate properties for magic but must learn it (Scarre).

6 Despite common stereotypes, there were surprisingly few witchcraft trials in Spain in the early modern period, "with the peak of prosecutions being over as early as 1550" (Scarre 21). However, the number of men and women tried for sorcery in Toledo from 1500 to 1800 not only reflects a dramatic increase in indictments during the seventeenth century but also reveals the disproportionately high number of female defendants: in the sixteenth century, of the 44 trials initiated, 13 involved men and 31 involved women; in the seventeenth century, of the 151 trials initiated, 34 involved men and 117 involved women; in the eighteenth century, of the 65 trials initiated, 18 involved men and 47 involved women (Cirac Estopañann 209-12).

These figures from Toledo, the city where Isabel grew up and followed a life of religious devotion, show that the legal system of the seventeenth century was not favorable to women involved in activities that could be interpreted as heretical or diabolical. The number of women tried for sorcery more than tripled in the seventeenth century and was three times greater than the number of men tried during the same century.7 While there were comparatively few witchcraft prosecutions in Spain, Isabel de Jesús was exposed to a few public cases in Toledo. In 1633, Antonia de Acosta y Mejía was brought before the Inquisition of Toledo for "erotic witchcraft practices invoking devils" (Atienza 268), and likewise, Ana Maria Barcia, also called La Lobera because she was attributed the power to summon wolves, was also tried there during the seventeenth century (Atienza 273).8 The Devil and Nausea Given the frequency of episodes involving the Devil or his servants and nausea in Isabel's life narrative, consideration of the possibility of demonic possession seems imperative. Jean Bodin wrote that in the late sixteenth century demoniacal possession was most common in Spain and Italy (Robbins 393). Treatises on demonology were widely circulated during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in Spain as well as throughout Europe. Most early works on diabology before 1550 were written in

Page 34 Latin, but translations soon spread demonological theory to the general public.

9 The first book on witchcraft published in Spanish was Martin de Castañega's Tratado muy sotil y bien fundado de las supersticiones y hechicerias, which appeared in Logroño in 1529 (Darst 244). Soon after, Pedro Sánchez Ciruelo's treatise, Reprobación de las supersticiones y hechicerias, appeared in Alcalá (Homza and Wilson 242). Ciruelo's widely circulated translation was one of the most important works on demonology in Spain for over a century (Robbins 98). Between 1550 and 1620 many handbooks were published, but most were based on previous works. Martin del Rio (1551-1608) was a well-known Jesuit scholar and the author of Disquisitionaum Magicarum (1612), "in many ways the most complete of all the works on witchcraft and as renowned as the Malleus Maleficarum" (Robbins 121). He taught at a number of Jesuit centers such as Valladolid, Salamanca, Brussels, and various locations in France. It seems reasonable to assume that nuns especially were exposed to the ideas in these works, since they were written as handbooks for men in positions of authority (such as confessors) for the purpose of identifying possible demonic possession, sorcery, witchcraft, heresy, and so on.

Writings on possession and exorcism continued to be published throughout Isabel de Jesús' lifetime. Works such as Rituale Romanum (1614) by Paul V, Manuale Exorcismorum and Theusaurus Exorcismorum (1626) by Maximilian Van Eynatten, Tribunal de superstición ladina (1631) by Gaspar Navarro, Práctica de exorcistas y ministros de la iglesia (1660) by Padre Benito Remigio Noydens, and Espejo mystico en que el hombre interior se mira (1672) by Joseph de Naxara reveal the importance of possession and exorcism during the seventeenth century in Spain.10 These works, and many others, were written in response to an overwhelmingly common occurrence among the beatas and nuns: the claim of demonic possession. Julio Caro Baroja attributes the high number professing demonic possession in the late seventeenth century to the influence of theological works based on the subject: "It must be emphasized that the cases of possession which repeatedly occurred between 1688 and 1693 were, without doubt, provoked to some extent by too much reading of books on witchcraft and demoniacal possession written by influential theologians" (World 138). The works published on demonology describing indications of the signs of diabolic possession prove significant in Isabel de Jesus' case because her own self-descriptions reveal many important similarities with the treatises on possession. Isabel professes to have continual struggles with nausea, vomiting, spitting up blood through the mouth and the nose, bodily pain, sneezing, and coughing. She writes, "Y salían aquellos sapos, y salían

Page 35 destos hoyos malisimos olores de açufre, y otros peores; con que me causaron el estar con mucho trabajo, unas vezes estornudando, otras alborotándose el estómago, . . . porque algunas vezes iva a rebentar, o a echar las entrañas" (222) (And those toads would appear and out of these holes would come horrible odors of sulfur, and other worse smells which made it very difficult for me, sometimes sneezing, other times upsetting my stomach, . . . because at times I felt I would burst open or heave my guts).

11

Vincentius von Berg, who compiled the famous manual of exorcism entitled Enchiridium, provided a list of tests to determine if the spirit possessing the body was good or evil. The spirit was considered to be of the Devil if, among other indications, it "appeared with a loathsome or dejected appearance, or departed leaving a stench, noise, frightfulness, or injury" (quoted in Robbins [182]). Other descriptions of demoniacs include the following: They are unable to retain their food, are irked by continual vomiting, and are unable to digest. Others experience a heavy weight in the stomach, as if a sort of ball ascended from the stomach into the gullet, which they seem to vomit forth, yet nevertheless it returns to its original position. Some feel a gnawing in the lower belly; . . . Many bewitched are oppressed by a melancholy disposition. (Quoted in Robbins [182]). Another summary of the signs of possession that was circulated extensively appeared in Francesco Maria Guazzo's Compendium Maleficarum, first published in 1608 and reprinted in 1626 (Robbins 396). Guazzo describes the usual procedures to distinguish a sick person from one possessed by a demon. If the Devil "tends more to the stomach, he provokes hiccoughs and vomiting, so that sometimes they cannot take food, or else cannot retain it. . . . They are also sometimes known by certain fumes of sulphur or some other strong- smelling stuff" (quoted in Robbins [396]). In a 1644 treatise, one indication of possession included "vomiting unusual objects (either natural objects: toads, serpents, worms, iron, stones, etc.; or artificial objects: nails, pins, etc." (quoted in Robbins [395]). This document was based on incidents in Louvain in 1571: "Then she vomited great flocks of hair, with filthy water, such as in ulcers. . . . After this she vomited innumerable stones, some like walnuts, like pieces broken out of old walls and with some of the lime on them" (quoted in Robbins [397]).

Page 36 It seems clear that activity related to the mouth is central to the question of demonic possession. Jeffery Burton Russell describes how demons take possession: ''They enter the body through every orifice, especially the mouth during yawning and the nose during sneezing" (Lucifer 50). The demon may enter the body first through the mouth, then display its possession through nausea, and, if exorcised, leave in a similar fashion. Saint Augustine's Acta Sanctorum contains numerous accounts of curing demoniacs. In one story concerning Saint Bernard and a young girl possessed by a demon, we see the important function of vomiting in the exorcism: "Suddenly all quivering he came out in a stinking vomit" (Woods 161). Likewise, the demon, in addition to fleeing the possessed subject cum foedo vomitu (in a filthy vomit), may also issue forth cum foeda sanie ex ore, "in a filthy, corrupted bloody issue from the mouth" (Grillot de Givry 162). In similar fashion, Isabel frequently writes, ''Suelo echar sangre por la boca, o narizes" (610) (I usually spit up blood through my mouth or my nose).

12

Induced vomiting was also one method to exorcise the possessed patient. The seventeenth-century demonologist Florian Canale specified common procedures designed to cleanse the demoniac of "bad humours" through various internal and external purges, "vomitories" and bleeding (Camporesi 165). In fact, the use of such harsh emetics compelled Canale in 1614 to warn clerics of the potential risks involved in extreme purges to induce vomiting for persons believed to be possessed: I wish to draw attention to this, in order to show how careful exorcists should be in administering these powerful vomitories, remembering the risks incurred if they are applied without great caution, and I have seen some leave this life through the rashness of others. (Quoted in Camporesi [166]).13 Nausea in the Convent According to available documents and testimonies, nausea and vomiting were quite common in the convents. The inability to retain food was most often associated with the medieval ascetic practice of fasting. When the body becomes accustomed to not eating, if forced to eat, it rejects food immediately. Benvenuta Bojani (1255-1280) and Dorothy of Montau (fourteenth century) became nauseated at the sight of all food. When forced to eat, they soon vomited (Bell, 129; Bynum, Holy 136). Similarly, Domenica dal Paradiso (b. 1472) became disgusted by the smell and taste

Page 37 of meat, eggs, and milk. "These items made her vomit with such violence it seemed she would burst open" (Bell 165). Isabel de Jesús' description of her nausea recalls Domenica's suffering: "Bolvi la comida con tanta fuerza, que pensé rebentar" (185) (I vomited with such force that I thought I would burst open). Catherine of Racconigi (b. ca. 1486) could not retain food and would vomit what little she had been forced to eat. For ten years she threw up anything that entered her system except the host (Bell 160). Other medieval women, such as Mary of Oignies and Lidwina of Schiedam, not only had an aversion to ordinary foods but were also known to vomit out unconsecrated hosts when receiving Communion (Bynum, Holy 117, 128). These medieval ascetic practices of self-starvation followed by vomiting continued into the seventeenth century. Veronica Giuliani (b. 1660) professed to not eating for weeks. When the doctor commanded her to eat, she struggled to keep down the food she had been given and consequently she vomited on a regular basis (Bell 74). For Isabel and other medieval and early modern women religious, nausea proved to be holy suffering. Eustochia of Messina thanked God for her torments in vomiting. She believed that the inability to retain food in her stomach was a sign of God's grace (Bell 144). Fasting played such an important role in the life of mortification of Sor Maria de Santo Domingo (Beata de Piedrahita) that she could seldom hold food in her stomach. Aware that eating after periods of abstinence would cause great pain through violent emesis, Sor Maria would take in food to provide another opportunity to suffer in God's name (Giles 138). Vomiting, in fact, actually saved Domenica dal Paradiso's life. Her enemies gave her a bunch of grapes injected with a deadly poison. Domenica survived because she vomited so violently that even her teeth came out (Bell 166). For other nuns, throwing up served to cleanse and purify. The practice of what we now call bulimia, or self-induced vomiting, was not uncommon among women religious. Catalina de Siena engaged in such practices. Her confessor, Raymond de Capua, claims that Catalina felt obligated to throw up her food every day and used stalks of fennel and other plants to induce vomiting. When advised by her confessor to quit these damaging practices, Catalina responded that the "painful vomiting was penance for her sins" (Bell 28). Santa Teresa also seems to have suffered from both voluntary and involuntary vomiting. She confesses in her autobiography to experiencing what seemed to be a form of morning sickness ("vómitos por las mañanas"). She also adds that at night she sometimes had to induce regurgitation with various objects to relieve pain.

Page 38 In particular, for twenty years I suffered from morning sickness, so that I was not able to break my fast until after mid-daysometimes not until much later. Now that I go oftener to Communion, I have to bring on the sickness at night, with feathers or in some other way, before I go to bed, which is much more distressing. (102) According to the works on demonic possession, nausea could easily prove the presence of evil spirits. Accordingly, fasting and nausea were many times taken to be signs of diabolic influence. Catalina de Siena's fasting led some of her contemporaries to believe she was possessed. Unable to retain even a mouthful of food in her stomach, Catalina repeatedly vomited; those close to her suspected diabolic intervention (Bell 25). After an ice-skating accident, Lidwina of Schiedam vomited convulsively, blood poured from her mouth, ears, and nose, and she stopped eating. Her confessor later made accusations of demonic possession (Bynum, Holy 125-28). Likewise, testimonies against Colomba da Rieti and her confessor indicate demonic suspicion because of unbelievable fasting patterns and consequent nausea: "She is no saint who does not eat or drink . . . . And speaking of the devil, she is a witch. In her room we found a collection of bones under her bed, and a basket full of hosts she vomited" (quoted in Bell 156). Colomba was investigated on charges of sorcery, seemingly based on her unnatural diet. This also appears to be the case throughout the early modern period, as Santa Teresa and the women who came after her were forced to defend any apparently supernatural episodes; some nuns even doubted their own experiences. Catherine Fieschi of Genoa could keep no food down during Lent without vomiting. This seasonal occurrence led her and her confessor to believe it was sent by the Devil (Bell, 161; Bynum, Holy 182). Santa Teresa also noted the connection between diet and fasting and humoral imbalance and accusations of demonic possession. When nuns were believed to be possessed, Teresa sometimes recommended exorcism, as in the case of Sor Isabel de San Jerónimo in 1573 (Weber, "Saint" 181). She also frequently encouraged diet modification and relaxation therapy as treatment for suspected possession"she must eat meat for a few days and give up prayer" (quoted in Weber, ''Saint" 182)evidently, believing that in some cases the problem was one of melancholy rather than possession or diabolic delusions. For Teresa the two were related, however, as the Devil takes advantage of the weakened body and mind of the melancholic nun (Weber, Teresa 143). The seventeenth-century treatise on possession and exorcism, Rituale Romanium, also offers melancholy as

Page 39 an alternative to possession.

14 Similar to Santa Teresa's recommendations, this work specifies that the exorcist must be capable of distinguishing between demonic possession and melancholy.15

Isabel de Jesús' advanced age and vow of chastity could also affect the way in which examiners viewed the symptoms described in her narrative. The medical theory of the early modern period provided physiological reasons why older nuns were more in danger of demonic possession than younger married women. "It was old nuns who were most at risk, owing to their excessive dryness" (Midelfort 109). The diagnosis of diabolic possession continued throughout the seventeenth century. A well-known case in Toledo demonstrates the potentially dangerous assessment of demonic possession to explain chronic vomiting. The incident involved the Count-Duke Olivares and Teresa de Silva, who had gained the reputation of being gifted with supernatural powers. In an attempt to assist the childless count-duke, Teresa asked God to grant her sickness in exchange for a baby for him. Consequently, she was afflicted with chronic vomiting that lasted for a month and was unable to retain anything in her stomach. This incident attracted much attention, especially in Toledo. But when the count-duke was not granted the heir, Teresa was accused of being an impostor. Believed to be possessed by the Devil, in 1628, Teresa and other nuns in her convent were put in the cárceles secretas (secret prisons) of the Inquisition of Toledo but later released and relocated to other convents (Lea, Religious 309-17). This notorious case shows how visions and nausea can prove holiness one moment and deceit or demonic possession the next, depending on the interests of those in control of the interpretation. Nausea: Possession, Anxiety, or a Discourse of Resistance? Curiously, though holiness and possession seem to be opposites, the latter may in some circumstances be an index of the former. According to the 1575 document Suma de los solícitos engaños, there may be an appealing aspect of diabolic possession that could confirm sanctity. This treatise describes certain possessions and demonic torments as positive signs of virtue, as God permits these tortures to give pious women an opportunity to resist the evil force. Through the patience and tolerance of such suffering, these nuns deserve the crown of martyrdom: "to have visions and to be possessed by a demon . . . is indication and proof of great holiness" (Lisón Tolosana 56). In fact, the presence of the Devil and

Page 40 the nun's subsequent resistance may be prerequisites for demonstrating her holiness, as the enemy will undoubtedly try to torture those who preach the true word of God. Midelfort explains how in the early modern period demonic possession could show either holiness or sinfulness. "In order to display his majesty, God might allow a demonic possession only to show how strong the Christian sacraments and sacramentals were. Or of course God could permit a horrible invasion of demons to punish the sins either of the possessed or of another person" (111). Thus we must also make an important distinction between possession and obsession.

16 In 1631, Gaspar Navarro distinguished among three classes of demoniacs: "the possessed, the obsessed, and those who suffered demonic influences such as anguish, melancholy, evil words, sharp pains, or suggestions of sin and vice" (Deleito y Piñuela 225). Rossell Hope Robbins describes these differences in terms of inside versus outside. "In obsession, the devil was presumed to 'besiege' or 'sit without' the body of the afflicted [Latin: ob-sedere]. In possession, the devil beset the person inside the body. . . . Because a virtuous person was supposed immune to possession, the early saints suffered only obsession" (392).

The distinction between possession, obsession, and illness is crucial. When supernatural events occur or questionable symptoms appear, it must first be determined whether the indications or events are the work of God or the Devil. If the Devil is involved, the question remains whether the evil spirit works through the person or the demon merely attempts external tortures or temptations to prevent the holy person from spreading the word of God. Consequently, the presence of demonic forces does not definitively indicate possession or wrongdoing on the part of the person involved. In certain respects, to prove true holiness, some type of obsession could be expected, since the more saintly the person, the more the Devil would want to corrupt him or her. The Devil, then, remains outside the holy person, while the sinful person allows him inside. With regard to visions and the presence of God, the reverse is true. When Isabel describes the difference between good visions and bad visions, she also contrasts the terms "interior" and "exterior." She explains that good visions come from "inside" and bad visions come from "outside." Ay dos maneras de temor en estas visiones; el uno es señal de buena visión, y el otro de mala. Un temor ay que nace como de afuera, . . . y parece que le destruye de fuerças espirituales; y este tal con estas señas, no es de Dios. Otro temor ay que dilata, y

Page 41 nace de adentro, . . . y este es divino, y señal clara de ser de parte de Dios. (601; emphasis mine) There are two concerns one must be aware of in visions; the first is the sign of a good vision, and the other of bad visions. There is one fear that comes from outside, . . . and it seems that it destroys spiritual strength; and this, with other signs, is not from God. The other fear present comes from within and this is divine and a clear sign of being part of God. In addition to the frequent diagnosis of possession or obsession, numerous physical and emotional ailments were attributed to demonic involvement in general. The assignment of physiological and psychological illnesses to the Devil had been developed previously in Malleus Maleficarum. The "Malleus" turns over the whole field of physical and mental pathology to the devil and his witches. . . . In brief, Sprenger and Kraemer described literally every single type of neurosis or psychosis which we find today in our daily psychiatric work. (Zilboorg 43, 49)

17

In Holy Feast and Holy Fast, Bynum claims that even though modern psychiatrists no longer recognize hysteria as a diagnosis, the behavior of medieval religious women seems closer to classic nineteenth- century hysterics than to modern cases of typical anorexia (202). She explains that many women displayed characteristics of hysteria or acute anxiety as they "ate and vomited until they damaged their throats and digestive systems" (203).18 Nausea has also been attributed to various emotional disorders. Josef Breuer and Sigmund Freud found that vomiting replaced the act of expressing the painful suppressed memory. The intensity of the symptom (let us take for instance a desire to vomit) increases the deeper we penetrate into one of the relevant pathogenic memories. . . . If, owing to resistance, the patient delays his telling for a long time, the tension of the sensationof the desire to vomitbecomes unbearable, and if we cannot force him to speak he actually begins to vomit. In this way we obtain a plastic impression of the fact that "vomiting" takes the place of a psychical act (in this instance, the act of utterance). (Breuer and Freud 296; italics mine)19 In one sense, Breuer and Freud's assessment that vomiting can replace the act of expression may be applied to Isabel's case. We can view Isabel's

Page 42 nausea as a symbolic bodily act of resistance, not only a resistance to the act of writing for fear of repercussions but also a rejection of the limitations implicit in the act of controlled expression. Carmelo Lisón Tolosana describes the aggressive behavior of many early modern nuns as one way to achieve individual expression in the restrictive system that these women attempt to reject. "The beata lives her life in conflict with the ascriptive system that she rejects; . . . the possessed beata is not, in any way, uncommon; she abounds. . . . [T]he beata wants to be possessed" (54; emphasis mine). Again the verb reject reappears as an expression of resistance to an undesired element, just as nausea serves a similar function.

20

An additional explanation for nausea related to rejection is found in the concept of disgust, which brings us to another essential aspect of nausea, both universally and in the case of Isabel de Jesús. Breuer and Freud also considered vomiting to be a symbolic manifestation of moral disgust (5). This reaction is the basis of an existential approach to internal or external examinations. In The Birth of Tragedy, Friedrich Nietzsche writes, "Conscious of the truth he has once seen, man now sees everywhere only the horror or absurdity of existence . . . . [H]e is nauseated" (quoted in Luyster [2]). When Robert W. Luyster examines the disgust Hamlet feels, he outlines a theory that assigns blame to the world in which Hamlet lives instead of attributing his "disease" to problems within the individual. "This attitude of extreme and revolted disgust for the world we shall call nausea" (6). This approach emphasizes the culpability of the object rather than the subject. In many ways Isabel also uses nausea as an expression of disgust caused by the circumstances that surround her. She is not only repulsed by the Devil's appearance in her chambers when she writes but also becomes ill at the thought of how her writing is controlled by the male ecclesiastic hierarchy. Isabel seems to experience what Jean- Paul Sartre describes in Nausea as "a sort of nausea in the hands" (22). The concept of nausea based on disgust, not food or fasting, is fundamental to Isabel de Jesús' self-aware narrative. The fact that her nausea is many times associated with writing distinguishes her case from the tradition of "holy anorexia and bulimia" in religious women. Moreover, in these instances of literary activity, her nausea proves not to be food related. In her metanarrative nausea becomes a recurrent theme, but food and fasting cease to directly influence her writing during these moments. Isabel herself presents her nausea as a natural reaction to the Devil's disgusting attempts to prevent her from writing: "porque delante de mi se ponia este enemigo a hazer muchas porquerias, que olian tan mal, que

Page 43 me hazia bolver la comida" (492) (because the enemy appeared before me doing many disgusting things, which smelled so bad that it made me vomit). This physical and symbolic "rejection" of the attempt to silence her not only shows her resistance to this repression but also reflects a deeper anxiety associated with the written word. She is painfully aware of the danger of putting her ideas to paper in a permanent form subject to a variety of interpretations. Her writings may be used to prove her holiness and adherence to orthodoxy, or they may be used to show heretical activity. Isabel's metanarrative presents many of the key elements of demonic possession: stench, vomiting, gnawing in the belly, the appearance of a demon. Therefore, the fact that the Devil appears when she writes to prevent this "holy" act could defend the argument for obsession, not possession. Isabel carefully separates demonic intervention from the content of her writings. Even though various demons torment her while she writes, Isabel argues that she does not understand them, as it is God's will that only He speak through her work. En tomando la pluma, se pusieron al rededor de mi muchas figuras de negrillos, con quadernos cada uno, y leía uno, y todos escuchavan, . . . Yo los oía, y no los entendía, y era providencia de Dios, porque si lo entendiera, podia ser que escriviera lo uno por lo otro; y entonces quiso Dios que me iva acordando de lo que avia de ir escriviendo, como si me lo fuera diziendo otra persona. (188) Upon lifting my pen, many figures of black men appeared around me, each one with notebooks, one read and the others listened. . . . I heard them and I did not understand, which was God's will because if I did understand it would have been possible for me to have written what was said. And so willed God, who kept reminding me of what I was supposed to be writing, as if someone else were speaking through me. As Isabel resists the Devil's attempts to prevent her from writing, she rejects the patriarchal belief that women should not engage in theological discourse. She also challenges the traditional view positing that women were easily deceived by the Devil. In his 1588 treatise, Tratado de la verdadera y falsa prophesia, Juan de Horozco y Covarrubias uses Eve as the archetypal woman to prove that the Devil remains ever vigilant to take advantage of women's "lack of resistance" (Kagan 115). Isabel's life narrative, however, testifies to her continual resistance to the Devil's (or patriarchal society's) efforts to silence women. She expresses her rejection of this system through nausea, which in some ways appears similar to

Page 44 Bell's interpretation of medieval women's eating disorders as an attempt to escape male domination and gain control over one area of their lives.

21 Like other medieval and early modern women mystics who manipulate corporeal illness to appropriate a theological voice, Isabel uses her body to express her views on women writing in the Church. As Isabel associates the Devil, nausea, disgust, and rejection with the theme of writing, she can also easily manipulate these elements to show the humble resistance to claiming a voice in theology that was required of religious women.

Page 45

Illustrations

Page 46

Figure 1. Isabel de Jesús (1611-1682). Portrait from her autobiography, Tesoro del Carmelo, escondido . . . 1685. Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, MS 3- 55.495.

Page 47

Figure 2. Early modern conception of exorcism. Demons leave the possessed through the mouth. Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, Inv. 3119.

Figure 3. Demon expulsed through the mouth in exorcism. Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, Inv. 3118.

Page 48

Figure 4. A bishop exorcises the demon from a corpse in Cantiga 67 from the Cantigas de Santa Maria. Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, MS FACS. GF 51.

Page 49

Figure 5. Demoniac vomits after demons escape in Cantiga 109 from Alfonso X's Cantigas de Santa Maria. Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, MS FACS. GF 51.

Page 50

Figure 6. Hieronymus Bosch. Hell as shown in right panel of The Garden of Delights (Millennium). Courtesy of the Museo de Prado, Madrid.

Page 51

Figure 7. Allegory of heresy designed by Cesare Ripa, Iconologie, 1644. Courtesy of Kenneth Spencer Research Library, University of Kansas.

Page 53

3 Iconographic Tradition and the Demonic Mouth The Devil in Pictorial Representations and Literary Works The importance of religious icons as a means to influence the thinking of believers cannot be overemphasized. Increasingly, scholars are examining the relationship between religion, literature, and the plastic arts, especially during the Middle Ages. According to John E. Keller and Richard P. Kinkade, ''Visualization . . . provided the greater part of the medieval Spaniard's education and recreation'' (2). Art was also used after the Council of Trent as an "instrument of Catholic renewal" (Hroch and Skybová 224). It is not surprising, therefore, that there may be a connection between pictorial representations and the writings by medieval and early modern nuns. Elizabeth Petroff describes how the use of pictorial cycles and panel paintings in the visualization exercises of medieval women mystics affected their visions and subsequent writings. Although Electa Arenal and Stacey Schlau note this possible association, they limit their observation to images of "nursing Madonnas, penitent Magdalens, bleeding Christs, heaven-bound Immaculate Conceptions" (Untold 8). However, because of their frequency, especially in the Middle Ages, the iconographic images of nausea in exorcisms may have had an impact on the writings of women in the convent. Possession, Exorcism, and the Mouth The repugnant and horrifying aspect of the Devil had been depicted with graphic detail for centuries. Works including Mozarabic miniatures, Romanic, Gothic, Renaissance, and baroque paintings and sculptures reveal an obsession with fantastic, symbolic, scatologic, and demonic images.

1 Although no visual representation of the Devil exists from be-

Page 54 fore the sixth century, one of the earliest pictures of the Devil appears in a sixth-century illumination in which Christ expels demons from the possessed.

2 Iconograms of the possessed body and the subsequent exorcism, in particular, have an extensive spatial and temporal tradition. Numerous artists tried to capture the climactic moment of exorcism by portraying the enemy leaving the mouth (figs. 2-3). The small, winged, black demon visible in these images is described by Jeffery Burton Russell as an imp and by Beat Brenk as an eidolon. Brenk notes that the "imp" first appears in pictorial representations in the sixth century in exorcism scenes (Russell, Lucifer 130-32). Other characteristics of these early visuals of the Devil include glowing eyes and "spewing mouths" (Russell, Lucifer 132).

The visual representation of the Devil leaving the body through the mouth during exorcism recurs in medieval paintings, murals, and sculptures. Alan C. Kors and Edward Peters note that "although not all aspects of demonic temptations were continually illustrated in the Middle Ages, the ritual of exorcism, especially in representations of individual saint's lives, was a popular motif" (100). Exorcism scenes revealing small demonic animals issuing from the mouth of the possessed were frequently portrayed on the panels of cathedral doors (Kors and Peters 99-100). Numerous prayer books and other literary works from the eleventh through the fifteenth century include visual images portraying black batlike demons escaping the demoniac through the mouth (Lisón Tolosano 95-96). In panel 6 of Cantiga 67 from the thirteenth-century illuminated Cantigas de Santa Maria, the artists' visualization of the poet's version exhibits a devil with wings emerging from the mouth of a possessed cadaver (fig. 4). Panel 5 of Cantiga 109 also illustrates the winged demons escaping and the demoniac vomiting (fig. 5). The narrative of the fifteenth-century Italian nun Colomba da Riete demonstrates the connection between iconographic representations of spirits leaving through the mouth and possible explanations for nausea in the convent. Colomba believed that by vomiting she was able to expel any demons, just as she had observed in the visual images of exorcisms (Bell, Holy 157). Martin Ebon suggests that the vast literature based on patterns of possessions and exorcisms affected the behavior of those suspected of being possessed as well as that of the priests presiding over the exorcisms. "People who feel they are possessed tend to act within a framework of the words and actions. . . . If they are expected to vomit or to blaspheme a deity, the possessing demons are likely to oblige, perhaps reacting to the overt or covert suggestions of the exorcist" (10). Of course,

Page 55 there is little doubt that the visual images of possession and exorcism also contributed to the "framework" within which both the nuns and the priests operated. Pictorial representations of exorcisms, however, were not the only visual displays of the demons' dramatic departure from the possessed. According to Diego Pérez de Valdivia's Aviso de gente recogida (1585), the actual exorcism ceremony was a popular and visual spectacle, similar to public theater (Weber, "Between" 231). Pérez argued that one factor contributing to the frequency of possession was the theatricality of the exorcism. "For if there are no crowds, there will be no endemoniadas" (quoted in Weber, "Between" 231).

3

This visual stimulus affected not only behavior but also the content of much conventual writing. Alison Weber discusses the possible connection between Santa Teresa's descriptions of the Devil and medieval iconography. She argues that Teresa's repulsive, medieval- style devils may be an attempt to challenge the Golden Age stage version of the Devil as attractive and charming. Although medieval iconography may have provided Teresa with visual models, her repellent representation of the Devil is motivated by more than tradition. Teresa's hideous demons, her "medieval demons," might also be interpreted as a strategic attempt to displace the image of the beautiful and seductive Counter-Reformation Devil. ("Saint" 175-76) Isabel de Jesús, perhaps more in tune with her age, also includes the handsome and seductive version of the male demon. "Una noche me cogieron dos en figuras de hombres . . . y no tenian las caras espantosas; antes se mostraron afables" (223) (One night two demons in the form of men grabbed me . . . . However, they did not have horrifying faces but were handsome). Seventeenth-century Spanish artists continued this iconographic- demonic tradition by depicting even more "repugnance" and "excesses" (Caro Baroja, Formas 115-16). Julio Caro Baroja ascribes the importance of the figure of the Devil in both the visual arts and literature to an obsession with the diabolic that lasted throughout the seventeenth century (Formas 67). Descriptions of the Devil in the writings of Sor Ana de San Agustin (1547-1624) stress the "visual" aspect of demonic visions. The sight of the demons is so terrible that I could not explain how one suffers in seeing just one, much less many, and so if Our Lord did not strengthen those who saw it, I think they would burst

Page 56 open [reventarian]. He had many horns and many tails and terrible flames and a ferocious and horrifying tongue; . . . as if it had been painted. (Caro Baroja, Formas 63-64; emphasis mine) The use of the word reventar (to burst open) as a reaction to the sight of the Devil reminds us of the recurrence of the same verb in Isabel's work, in which it is also associated with the Devil and/or writing: "Parecia iva a rebentar" (649) (I thought I would burst open). Sebastián de Covarrubias defines rebentar as "to open something that has some material inside that pushes and forces itself to get out" (897). The idea of opening up to allow some material inside to get out recalls the iconographic images related to the expulsion of the Devil and the literary images of nausea in Isabel's writing. Although the verb rebentar does not necessarily mean "to vomit," it does connote the idea of exiting with force or appearing suddenly. Isabel's narrative repeatedly associates the concepts of nausea, "rebentar," and writing: ''Bolvi la comida, con tanta fuerça, que pensé rebentar, y esto en el alma con grandes deseos de no bolver a escrivir más en mi vida'' (185) (I vomited with such force that I thought I would burst open and deep in my soul I had a great desire to never write again in my life). The Diccionario de Autoridades offers additional definitions of reventar that emphasize a violent response: "by some violence that impels it . . . to force or pressure some passion or effect" (610). When Isabel states, "porque oír y no poder hablar, era para rebentar" (because to hear and not be able to speak made me want to burst open), she connects rebentar with the urgent need to break the silence, a violent reaction to not being able to express herself. Hieronymus Bosch Many of the demonic visions by women writers in early modern Spain have been compared to the images in the works of Bosch. Despite the "heretical" element in Bosch's paintings, this Dutch artist was not only the favorite painter of Felipe II but quite popular among writers of early modern Spain as well. According to Lisón Tolosana, the descriptions of the Devil in Santa Teresa's works "seem to come directly from a Hieronymus Bosch painting" (84). And Caro Baroja discusses the iconographic influence on the visions of Santa Teresa and other "less intelligent women who are more easily influenced by common images and representations" (Formas 61). He also notes the similarity between the visions of these women and the paintings of Bosch. Caro Baroja supports

Page 57 his assertion by quoting the works of Sor María de la Antigua (1566- 1617), Isabel de Jesús (of Navalcán, 1586-1648), Sor Mariana de Jesús (1577-1620), Sor Mariana Francisca de los Angeles (1637-97), and, not surprisingly, our own Isabel de Jesús (1611-82). Bosch's view of hell in the right panel of The Garden of Delights (the Millennium) reveals the scatological themes of nausea and defecation present in Isabel's work (see detail from Bosch, fig. 6). In Bosch's depiction, nausea is portrayed as the punishment for the sin of gluttony. Likewise, the mouth becomes a focal point in Bosch's painting as the Devil is shown devouring a sinner: "Up above he consumes a scoundrel. . . . Down below, his fast-working bowels excrete an alchemist's retort out of which two homunculi plunge to perdition . . . . [T]he glutton vomits and the money-lover defecates, spilling forth all the sinful excesses" (Fraenger 60-61; emphasis mine). In her writing, Isabel appropriates the image of the voracious Devil eating sinners: "Este Dragon con la boca abierta aparejado para tragarnos" (373) (this dragon with his mouth open to swallow us). Discourse as Evil: The Demonic Mouth and Pen Bell attributes one explanation for the fasting practices in the convent, "holy anorexia," to the fear of punishment in hell for gluttony. In the familiar representations of the Devil torturing sinners in hell, he is shown putting human figures into his mouth while in the exorcism scenes the diabolic spirit is depicted leaving the human body. The mouth is not only the common denominator in these representations but also the traditional entry to hell.

4

Figures departing from the mouth in the presence of the Devil are also found in woodcuts that first appeared in Germany in the second half of the fifteenth century. One of these woodcuts depicting the Antichrist's birth made its way to Spain (Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Not 139). In these images, a satanic creature is removing a tiny human figure from the mother's mouth as she dies during childbirth. According to Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, this small figure represents the mother's soul, and the presence of an angel in the background suggests that "the mother will be saved and not blamed for giving birth to the 'son of perdition"' (Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Not 139). In fact, the image of the small figure leaving the mouth is present only in the versions of the Antichrist's birth in which the mother dies and is granted salvation. Like the Endkrist texts,

Page 58 which portray Antichrist's mother as a victim, Isabel's text presents the holy nun as a victim. The ultimate fear in the exclusively female task of creating life is giving birth to a demonic monster. For a woman, the creative act of giving birth, like the creative act of speaking or writing, could be fatal. But even though the male devil may have control over the evil product, the innocent victim is saved as an angel awaits her departing soul. The negative assessment of written and verbal discourse was also prevalent in popular iconographic sources depicting various interpretations of oral communication. A medieval allegory of virtue and vice contrasts the blessed (a harmonious couple) with the damned (two people quarreling violently) (Katzenellenbogen 60). The sinners are depicted arguing, as animal figures project from their mouths menacingly. Verbal discourse is dangerous; it is portrayed as a vice, not a virtue. This type of icon is different from other images depicting activity relating to the mouth. Here the figures expelled from the mouth are used as a weapon against another person, and their discourse is viewed negatively, as it destroys harmony. However, Isabel attempts to present her discourse in a positive light. The idea of discourse as a weapon against another is the basis of Isabel's own defense of her work, but her writing is used by God as a weapon against demonic forces. According to Isabel's text, we might question whether the allegory of the sinners engaged in verbal combat is really a representation of vice or of holy resistance. Heresy, Writing, and the Mouth The very popular handbook of iconology, Iconología (1592), by Cesare Ripa, contained allegories used to teach Counter-Reformation concepts. The allegory of Heresy (fig. 7), included in seventeenth- century editions of Ripa's work, proves significant as once again verbal communication is depicted as a cloudlike figure departing from the mouth as a warning of this serious crime against the Catholic faith. This allegory also contains a book with serpents representing the danger of writing sinful and unorthodox writing. The main features that differentiate this comparatively ugly allegory from the other images in Ripa's collection are, precisely, the mouth-related activity of speaking and the book, signifying writing. Common explanations that accompany these images describe the exhalations leaving the mouth as a flame that represents the danger of the beliefs of the heretic.

Page 59 Isabel as Preacher and Writer Fear of the potential power, as well as possible consequences, of public communication engenders a discussion of oral and written discourse in Isabel's text. She distinguishes writing from speaking when she explains how the Devil must have overheard her complaint about having to write. Estava con poquísima voluntad de escrivir, y me alegrara entonces de que huviera otra persona alli conmigo que lo fuera escriviendo, y yo lo fuera diziendo. . . . Oí que me dixeron: Yo estoy aquí si tu quieres (advierto, que esto que le dezía a Dios, lo dixe hablando) si tú quieres yo seré tu Secretario, y te prometo de dezirlo, y escrivirlo mejor que t, . . . Esto como yo lo avía dicho hablando, me pareció que aquella persona que a mí me parecia estava cerca de mi me avía oído. (372-73) I felt very little desire to write, and I was glad, then, that there was another person with me who would write it and I would dictate it . . . . I heard them tell me: "I am here if you want (I should clarify that what I had been saying to God, I said aloud), if you want I will be your secretary and I promise to speak and write better than you." . . . Since I had been speaking aloud, it became apparent that this person who, it seems, had been near me had been listening to me. When Isabel complained, speaking aloud, saying that she would prefer to have someone else write for her, the Devil heard her and responded. Isabel realized that her own words, spoken and written, were effective as well as dangerous; even the Devil appeared to answer her verbalized wishes. Demonic figures with "bocas terribles . . . parecía se querían tragar las gentes" (225) (terrible mouths . . . that seemed as if they wanted to swallow the people) appeared to threaten Isabel about possible Inquisitorial consequences if she continued to write. Cómo te atreves tú a escrivir, a enseñar a otros? cómo te determinas a hazerte Predicadora de ti. . . . [D]anos aquí palabra de no hazer otro Sermon, porque si no lo hazes, a ti, y al que te dio licencia. . . . [H]aré que esa heregía que cometéis entrambos, que se castiguen en la Inquisición, porque es mucha sobervia tuya el conocer que puedes tú predicar como el Baptista; eso de predicar es para grandes letrados, aunque ya veo que por aí te vienes a mi. Estaba con un ahogo mi alma, . . . y temer esto de mi sobervia, y la Inquisición. (225; emphasis mine)

Page 60 "How dare you write, teach others? How do you decide to become a preacher. . . . [G]ive us your word that you will not give any more sermons because if you don't do it, you and he who gave you permission, . . . I will see that this heresy that the two of you are committing will be punished by the Inquisition, because great is your pride that makes you aware that you can preach like the Baptist; preaching is for great learned men, although I see that by continuing this work you will come to me." My soul was so anguished . . . and fearful of my pride and the Inquisition. The Devil is always present to accuse Isabel (and her confessor), both of heresy and of the violation of the biblical mandate prohibiting women from preaching. The voice of the Devil expounds the belief that only "great learned men" should be preaching. This belief surfaces again in the approbations written by the "learned men." Fray Gabriel de San Joseph defends the publication of a religious work by a woman by making a distinction between written and oral teaching. Women should not preach in the pulpit. However, writing would not disobey the Pauline mandate that excludes women from teaching in the Church: ''El Apóstol . . . que habla de la enseñança regentando Cátedras, y predicando en Púipitos, lo qual tiene gravisimos inconvenientes, . . . pero no habla de la enseñança por escrito en que cesan todos esos inconvenientes" (Approbation by Fray Gabriel de San Joseph) (The Apostle . . . speaks of the teaching performed by educators and preaching in the pulpit, which would have many objections, . . . but he does not speak of teaching through writing, which would dismiss these objections). Isabel, nonetheless, sees her writing as a permanent form of oral confession. She realizes that writing is like running through the streets publicly identifying herself as a sinner as well as providing her the opportunity to teach the word of God. "O Señor mío, si como me mandan que escriva esto, permitieras que me dexaran ir por esas calles pregonando a vozes quien soy, y mis maldades, y tu gran misericordia'' (112) (O my Lord, just as I am commanded to write this, if only you would permit them to allow me to go through the streets proclaiming publicly who I am and my sins and your great mercy). Despite the holy purpose of her writing, this literary mortification also caused numerous negative consequences that affected her mouth and throat. "En aqueste tiempo de escrivir (que es una hora) darme un ahogo tan grande en la garganta, con un impetu de tos tan grande, que no puedo pasar adelante, . . . suelo echar sangre por las narizes, o por la boca" (654) (During the time that I write [which is one hour] my throat feels tight with such a great desire to cough that I cannot continue, . . . I usually issue blood through my nose or through my mouth).

Page 61 The area of Isabel's mouth continued to be a location for pain and punishment as a result of her proud and eloquent discourse. When a lock mysteriously appears on Isabel's mouth for several days, both the Devil and Isabel's santo angel offer explanations for the disturbing castigation. First the Devil justifies the sudden appearance of the lock as a sign that God does not want Isabel to talk. Then her santo angel explains that the lock was used to punish her for engaging her communication skills for public recognition. Has tenido en tu boca todos estos dias por permisión de Dios echado un candado, y ese te ha sido causa del dolor que has tenido; esto ha sido por las palabras ociosas, y las de chança que has dicho con vanidad, y por entretener a las criaturas, . . . que en esto de palabrillas de chança, que no las digas, que importa poco que te tengan por boba, o menos avisada. (449; emphasis mine) With God's permission a lock was placed on your mouth during these days and this has been the cause of your pain. This has happened because of the idle and witty words that you spoke with vanity and for entertaining others,. . . do not speak these witty words, as it matters little if they think you are silly or less educated. The image of a lock placed on a woman's mouth to keep her from preaching the word of God was indicative of the ideological climate that produced the Counter-Reformation. In his popular treatise, Excellences of the Faith (1537), Fernando Valdés wrote, No matter how learned a woman may be, put a padlock of silence on her mouth in matters of the mysteries of faith and the Church. For it is certain what the ancients said, that the jewel which makes a woman prettiest is the padlock of silence on the doors of her lips for all conversation, and particularly for the mysteries of holiness and so she is not to be a teacher of the doctrines of the Sacred Scriptures. (quoted in Giles [114]; emphasis mine) In a 1635 statement containing images similar to those used by Isabel, Bernardino de Villegas describes the expected behavior of nuns: "Do not be content with placing a lock on their tongue. . . . [P]lace also on their thoughts a finger on their mouth so they do not pour out their souls with vain desires" (quoted in Vigil [216]). In much the same way, God placed a lock on Isabel's mouth to prevent her sinful demons (power and discourse) from escaping. The strict misogynist doctrine developed by Church fathers insists that women remain silent, as they are inferior to men.

Page 62 Let a woman learn in silence with all submissiveness. I permit no woman to teach or to have authority over men; she is to keep silent. (I Timothy 2:11-12; emphasis mine) The women should keep silence in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be subordinate, as even the law says. (I Corinthians 14:34; emphasis mine)

5

The men who managed Isabel de Jesús' spiritual life seem to have been prey to this same fear of women's voices. Her confessors first counseled her to disregard her visions, to ignore the messages from God: "Díxele a mi Confesor lo que avia pasado. Dixome, que lo mejor era no hazer caso, aunque viera que la casa se caia" (22) (I told my confessor what had happened. He told me that it was better to ignore them, even if I saw that the house was falling down). Isabel, aware of the power of her discourse, is equally impressed with and fearful of the consequences of her verbal and persuasive talents. Immediately after a long speech about the difficulties of writing and how she wrote with pride and vanity, she professed to finding a gag on her mouth to prevent her from communicating: "Senti como que me apretavan la boca, y era con grande dolor; y pareciame a mi que era como mordaça que me avían puesto. . . . [A]via mucha gente, y me parecia que todos me miravan; . . . como si yo avía hablado alguna cosa que no fuera del gusto de Dios" (448-49, emphasis mine) (I felt that my mouth was being squeezed with much pain. It seemed to me that a gag had been placed there . . . . [T]here were many people and it seemed that everyone was staring at me; . . . as if I had said something that was not pleasing to God). Isabel's own confessions and the image of the "mordaza" as a symbol of the silencing of deviant women resemble Magdalena de la Cruz's sentence for heresy in 1546. Today we command that she always be considered suspect in things regarding our holy Catholic faith and therefore it is our will that . . . she should leave this tribunal's prison with a lighted candle in hand, a gag on her mouth, and a rope around her neck. (quoted in Weber, "Saint" 173; emphasis mine)6 These narratives emphasize the public nature of the punishment for women accused of heresy. The threat of public humiliation as a deterrent to women expressing themselves is also present in Isabel's narrative. The Devil made it clear that God placed this gag on Isabel's mouth so she would not talk without pain and without being ridiculed by others: "No ves como estás? ya no quiere Dios que hables, sino con mucho cuidado, y

Page 63 trabajo, y con esto todos se rien de tí, y yo también" (449) (Don't you see what condition you are in? Now God does not want you to speak, except with great caution and effort, and even then everyone laughs at you, including me). The external physical pain in both the mouth-throat area and the hands created by the act of writing is justified in the text by an internal process of literary fear and self-doubt. Sólo estoy deseando que se pase la hora, y todo es por no padecer, porque se suele cubrir el papel de moscas, y éstas me pican las manos, que duelen mucho, y se adormecen, que no las puedo menear, como si fueran de plomo: . . . ya esto es en lo exterior; mas en lo interior del alma, qué será lo que pasa? que cierto yo temo que tengo a Dios enojado, por ver lo que de todas maneras me pasa; es con tanto ahogo, que parece que a la garganta me echan un cordel; y por resistir, y no dexar lo que hago, suelo echar sangre por la boca, o narizes. (610; emphasis mine) I only want the hour to end so I will not have to suffer, because the paper usually becomes covered with flies and they bite my hands, which greatly hurts, and my hands become numb so that I cannot move them, as if they were of lead: . . . this is on the exterior, but in the interior of my soul, what could be happening? Certainly I fear I have angered God, seeing what sort of things are happening to me. It is with so much anguish that it seems that they threw a rope around my throat; and because of my resistance, and because I don't quit what I am doing, I usually spit up blood through my mouth, or nose. Isabel is tempted to refrain from writing because her resistance to the Devil's cruelty creates unbearable pain. She perceives that God communicates to the interior of her soul that silence is disobedience and that she must speak: "Oí una voz en lo interior del alma, que me dixo: . . . mira que me seas fiel en no callar lo que te es mandado que digas" (611) (I heard a voice inside my soul and it said: ". . . see that you are faithful to me by not silencing what I have commanded you to say"). In a display reminiscent of the iconographic representations of oral activity, Isabel's text reveals a graphic awareness of the repercussions of its own discourse. Isabel's narrative seems to act out the dramatic scenes found in the pictorial representations of trajection through the mouth. Mindful of the fact that writing is self-empowering as well as self-incriminating, Isabel de Jesús is engaged in a balancing act. The image of

Page 64 something inside departing through the mouth can be interpreted as demonic (possession-exorcism, heresy, vice, death) or as an explosive reaction to the pressure of a misogynist tradition. Her nausea is a symbolic rejection of the prohibition of speech and the injunction against women's participation in theological discourse. Similar to the icon of Heresy, the combination of writing and rejection through the mouth in Isabel de Jesús sets a dangerous point of departure in her own road to sainthood and self-empowerment inside the Church. She must avoid the charge of heresy and prove the orthodoxy of her own work. Through the voice of the Devil, Isabel in effect shows in her writing how to destroy heresy in the Church: "Quando tomé el papel, y la pluma, me dio tal temblor en mí, que no era posible poder escrivir . . . Dezíame el enemigo: . . . estás pidiendo, y rogando a tu Dios que destruyga las heregias de su Iglesia" (673) (When I took the paper and pen I began to shake and I was unable to write . . . The enemy said to me: " . . . you are asking and begging God to destroy the heresy in the Church"). To do this, she shows the reader what is not included in the popular icon: a dialogue between the writer, the Devil, the confessor, the Inquisition, God, the saints and angels, and a misogynist literary tradition in the Church.

Page 65

4 The Dialectics of Resistance: Prowriting versus Antiwriting The "Double Bind" for Women Writers The main contradiction in the Church's policy toward writing by women lies in its attempt to uphold the Pauline mandate demanding public silence for women religious while also requiring that potentially "problematic" nuns record their interpretations of Church doctrine on paper so that they may be examined and judged by qualified clergy. The written accounts could serve two purposes: to support the nuns in possible cases for sainthood or beatification or to indict them for heretical acts, depending on the final judgment. To maintain control over women who were striving to achieve their own voices in the Church through mystic visions and ecstasies, it was necessary to command them to write so the confessors and Inquisitors could first detect and later have physical proof of either deviant or saintly behavior. Both the women writers and the male ecclesiastical members found this situation contradictory, as is evident in the arguments of the approbations. Isabel's situation is not unlike that described by Weber with reference to Santa Teresa. She argues that having to prove worthiness and humility at the same time produces the logical contradiction of the "double bind," as silent virtue is incompatible with self-defense. "Such paradoxical injunctions are called binds not only because of the logical dilemmas they produce but also because they occur within an intensely important relationship that is essential to the subject's self- definition" (Teresa 45). Sandra M. Gilbert and Susan Gubar also discuss the double bind in more contemporary women writers. "Thus, as Virginia Woolf observed, the woman writer seemed locked into a disconcerting double bind: she had to choose between admitting she was 'only a woman' or protesting that she was 'as good as a man"' (64). Weber notes, nonetheless, that double bind dilemmas need not destroy the writer if he or she is able to give a dual message in reply. "Instead of being paralyzed by the attempt to reconcile conflict-

Page 66 ing demands, the subject can reply illogically, with paradoxes of his or her own" (Teresa 48). The double bind of the patriarchal order, how to extract a silent confession from women religious, forced nuns like Santa Teresa and Isabel de Jesús to find new ways to express themselves and still appear "hidden." The dual message that Isabel's text presents is based on a metanarrative that discusses the validity of an autobiography written by a woman in the Church. Moreover, the double bind of writing in the Church is determined by gender alone, which distinguishes this problem from the conflicts faced by other religious writers of early modern Spain. Likewise, the literary topos of the self-deprecatory commentaries is evident in other works by men and women, but the modesty formula in the writings of women religious is based on their sex and the consequent gender role distinctions. Weber goes so far as to propose that in one sense Santa Teresa's work is an "extended prologue" in the captatio benevolentiae tradition because renouncing literary activity was requisite in order for women to continue the act of writing (Teresa 50). Metawriting: Past and Present Both Isabel and her confessors agree that writing played a central role in her life as a nun. Her confessor admitted after her death that writing was her most difficult task: "Entre los trabajos que toleró su paciencia, fue siempre el de mayor peso, y cuidado, el tener que escrivir lo que pasava en su alma" (737-78) (Of all the works that her patience tolerated, the most difficult and worrisome was having to write everything she felt in her soul). However, before discussing the importance of writing in Isabel's life narrative, we must first distinguish between two different levels of metawriting: (1) writing about the present act of putting pen to paper at the moment of writing the autobiography, "cuando escribo esto . . ." (when I write this) and (2) writing about the act of putting pen to paper in the past, "cuando escribia . . ." (when I was writing). This is similar to the distinction between Lázaro and Lazarillo or Guzmán and Guzmanillo in the classic picaresque autobiographies.

1 However, in the case of Isabel, the narrator is not the only writer. The protagonist in the "protagonist-narrator" distinction is also a writer or a "literary protagonist." Consequently, much of Isabel's life narrative records her feelings about writing in the present while it also recounts her experiences of writing in the past.

Page 67 There are six sections in Isabel de Jesús' autobiography. In the account of her life prior to taking the habit, Books I and II, the discussion of writing in the past is logically infrequent in comparison with life in the convent, which starts in Book III. The metanarrative based on writing in the past only starts toward the end of Book II, when her confessor first commanded her to write. The fact that she did not admit to writing before her confessor demanded it of her leads us to two possibilities: either she did write before but left it out of her narrative or writing was not a part of her secular life. This injunction to write prior to taking her vows does not appear to be the command to transcribe her autobiography. In the first chapter of Book VI, she uncharacteristically mentions the current year, 1678, and states that she had been asked to start writing her autobiography ten years earlier, when she was fifty-seven. The metawriting about the current act of writing, however, is similarly scarce in Books I and II, but in Books III through VI the self-aware narrative is almost constant. We might question why the act of writing in the present was not a main theme in the narration of her childhood and young adult years. According to her own comments, she must have been suffering the tortures of the Devil during the writing of the entire autobiography. However, Isabel does not begin to record these difficulties until the point in the narration when she started to write in the past. The act of writing, by itself, was not as problematic as the text claims. Isabel did not complain about the burden of writing her autobiography until she arrived at the juncture in the life story when her confessor required her to write in the past. Isabel's metawriting becomes a strategy she began to employ once she was forced to explain the role of writing in her life. At this point Isabel began to see, more clearly, the connection between the written word and power. This dangerous source of authority for women in the Church needed protection and justification. Isabel achieves this defense through metawriting, by recording how the Devil tortures her every time she tries to write. Writing by itself did not seem to be a threat for her in Book I and much of Book II, but this changes precisely when she starts to discuss the topic of control and women writing in the Church. Another difference between the narrative recounting before and then after joining the convent can be found in the content of the writings. In Books I and II, the main material is autobiographical, a diachronic exposition of her life prior to becoming a nun. However, once she starts to narrate life in the convent, the content of her writings begins to alternate between the diachronic autobiographical reporting and the more synchronic soliloquies dedicated to religious doctrine.

2 In addition to the

Page 68 combination of doctrine and life narrative, there is a shifting between sermon-style speeches and self-effacing lamentations and protestations against writing. Like other medieval and early modern women writers, as soon as Isabel finds herself claiming a confident theological voice of authority, she immediately follows the exposition with claims of ignorance, confusion, or hatred for having to write against her will. Typically, after writing about mystic prayer, she exclaims, "Yo no sé cómo me atrevo a dezir lo que no sé; no sé si he acertado, porque no entiendo lo mismo que acabo de dezir" (544-45) (I do not know how I dare to say what I do not know. I do not know if I am right because I do not understand what I just wrote). The Prowriting versus Antiwriting Debate Once the text begins to discuss itself and the advantages and disadvantages of writing, a dramatic and violent debate unfolds. Within the metanarrative there is a pro-versus antiwriting controversy engaged in by the various presences in Isabel's work. Because of the conflictive historical context, Isabel and patriarchal society are simultaneously on both sides of the writing dispute. Explicitly, Isabel professes a disdain for writing, as she devotes much of her life account to the difficulties she had putting pen to paper. This "antiwriting" argument is manipulated for many different purposes. First, by begging not to write, Isabel can reassure her male readers that claiming an authoritative voice was not her intention. Isabel would prefer to maintain the modest silence expected of women. Furthermore, the nun's rebellious resistance to the command by her confessor and God to write also proves her disobedient and sinful nature. In this necessary self-deprecatory game, the saintly yet humble nun must display holiness without seeming vain or arrogant. The main players on the prowriting side of the dialogue are Isabel's confessors, the Inquisition, God, and various angels and saints such as Santa Leocadia and Santa Teresa. These parties all wanted Isabel to continue her narrative. However, the text presents these participants in two opposing ways: (1) God and his heavenly assistants provide a positive defense of Isabel's work, and (2) the confessors and Inquisitional officials, who want Isabel to write in an attempt to control her, are presented in a negative manner. Isabel is able to justify her anger against this control and those confessors who force her to record her thoughts on paper by assuming the role of the humble nun, desiring only to remain silent.

Page 69 Positive View of the Prowriting Argument Despite the anger expressed in the text against the confessors and the possibility of Inquisitorial judgments of her works, Isabel knows that her confessor is necessary for the continuation of her narrative. Therefore, she defends his decision to make her write by attributing the command to write to God's plan for her. Isabel explains that God moved her confessor to make her put pen to paper: "si tú Dios mio, no le mueves para que me lo mande, yo no osare pedirlo; y pues le moviste, Señor, a mandarme escrivir una vida tan derrotada como la mia" (149) (if you, my God, do not inspire him to command me to write, I will not dare to request it of him. But you did inspire him, Lord, to order me to write such a failed life as mine). Likewise, her santo angel told her not to be afraid of writing and that when God was ready to have her stop He would convey the message to her confessor. The text uses the expectations God had for Isabel to continue and lengthen her notebooks. By having God reprimand Isabel for shortening the accounts of His grace in her life, she is able to show her own holiness and then lengthen the narrative without seeming vain. With God as her editor, Isabel is able to gain control over the length and content of her chapters. By communicating to her confessor these heavenly messages insisting that she write, the nun can obtain his permission to continue her work. According to Arenal and Schlau, this was a common practice among many nuns who wanted to write. "Often the impulse to write came first from the nun herself or from one of her Sisters. She might claim that the Lord himself had made the request in a vision or revelation. Reported to the confessor, the impulse could then be transformed into a request from himwhich the nun could meet with humility" (Untold 16). Aware of the authorization process of literary production in the convent, Isabel describes how her santo angel commanded her to write and to give the writings to her confesor, who would then give her further instructions: "no dexes de escrivir esto, y dalo a tu Confessor, que Dios le dictará lo que has de hazer. . . . Fui a mi confesor, y dixe todo lo que me pasava, y mandóme que lo escriviese todo, y lo escrivi en forma de carta. . . . Esta carta le dieron a esta persona en su mano; hale sido de grande mejoría a su alma" (426) (do not fail to write this, and give it to your confessor, as God will dictate what you should do. . . . I went to my confessor and told him everything that happened, and he commanded me to write everything and I wrote it in the form of a letter. . . . This letter

Page 70 was delivered personally to an individual. It has been of great benefit to her soul). The positive results of the nun's writings are evident, even in the epistolary genre, as her letters are capable of improving the soul of the reader. Numerous religious writers solved the double bind of being women writing in the Church by denying authorship, claiming instead to be vehicles of God.

3 Proof that God is the true author of Isabel's work is found in the insistence that she does not comprehend what He writes through her. Not being able to understand the secret language between God and the soul (a common element in mystic prayer) helps the text avoid responsibility for authorship of theological doctrine. At times, Isabel describes herself as being excluded from the special relationship between God and her soul. Consequently, her writing is presented as a quote in secret code from someone else's narrative: ''Esto va me parece por cifra, porque no se puede, ni sabré dezir lo que entonces pasa entre Dios, y el alma, que parecen como dos amigos, que se aman mucho'' (148) (This seems to me to be in code because one cannot, nor could I, say what passes between God and my soul. They seem like two friends who love each other very much).

Isabel acknowledges the paradox of trying to maintain silence while also expressing herself through the written word. The idea that God dictates the text to Isabel enables her to appear silent while she writes. O Señor, dame gracia para que en todas partes guarde este santo silencio, . . . y que saque provecho para mi, y para quien esto leyere, porque se conozca, Señor, que eres tú el que lo has dictado todo lo que huviere bueno. (349; emphasis mine) Oh Lord, give me the grace to maintain this holy silence in all areas, . . . and may it be of benefit for me and whoever reads this so that it is known, Lord, that you are the one who has dictated all that is good. It is evident here that Isabel is not just recording a written confession for a priest. Rather, she sees her work as a therapeutic and educational document to help herself as well as others. Following the tradition of Santa Teresa's holy pen, when Isabel presents a positive image of the strength and virtue of writing, her pen also becomes an essential piece of equipment in the war against those who want to prevent her from obtaining a voice through the written word. To prove that the power of her writing is from God, there is often a supernatural show of greatness emitting from the pen while she writes: "Estando

Page 71 escriviendo, empeçó a saltar de la misma pluma unas centellas, o lumbres" (363) (While writing, sparks and light began to shine forth from my pen). Later her santo angel appears to assure her that these beautiful supernatural experiences are signs from God demonstrating the holiness of her writing. Similarly, when Isabel goes to read the works of Santa Teresa, a ray of light shines forth from a figure of Christ to the saint's words in an open book. Isabel's writing instrument also becomes her cross, used to defend her work from evil and to prove the divine origin of her narrative: "Estuve como un quarto de hora escriviendo, y tomé dos plumas, y púselas en Cruz, y dixe: O Señor, quien te huviera dado gusto con estas plumas!" (498) (I was writing for about a quarter of an hour, and I took two pens and put them in the form of a cross and said, "Oh Lord, who could ever give you joy with these pens!"). In the following chapter, she relates that a gentleman appeared with his sword to prevent her from writing. With her pens in the form of a cross, Isabel was able to defeat the man and continue writing. The text clearly explains how this man thrust his sword at Isabel's chest with such force that she vomited a little blood. The sword then broke in two pieces on her chest, and these were miraculously transformed into two pens in the form of a cross. Isabel is obviously aware of the power of her writing to both defend herself and challenge the patriarchal order, represented by the violent male figure and his phallic sword. Within this forceful image, the nun is careful to include the holy purpose of her writing by associating her pens with the cross, which replaces the inferior strength of the patriarchal sword. Both Isabel's pen and the act of writing are associated with the heavy cross that Christ had to bear to save humanity. After Isabel begs God to relieve her from the unbearable task of writing, He responds by comparing Christ's suffering on the cross to the anguish Isabel experiences when she writes, "Me dixo: Si no puedes llevar el peso de una pluma, cómo podrás llevar el peso de mi Cruz?" (446) (He said to me, "If you cannot carry the weight of a pen, how will you carry the weight of my cross?"). Through this conversation between Christ and Isabel, the text successfully mounts the perfect defense. First, in apparent accord with traditional Church fathers, Isabel humbly tries to escape the difficult task of writing the word of God. Then the narrative implies that even though much has been written, according to God there is still more to be done. Likewise, God does not want Isabel to stop writing, nor is it His will that Isabel's confessor command her to do so. Despite the usual dramatic protestations against writing in the text,

Page 72 there is a persistent voice that bursts forth with a joy associated with narrating the word of God: "Empecé a escrivir con tanto gozo en pensar que se hazia la voluntad de Dios, y no la mia" (446) (I began to write with such joy thinking that I was fulfilling God's will and not my own).

4 The pleasure Isabel experiences when she expresses herself through writing is justified when she confirms that God is the true author. To stop writing would be to disobey the divine law: "En tomando la pluma, senti en mi alma una nueva luz de lo mal que hazía en resistir la voluntad de Dios" (456) (In taking the pen, I felt in my soul a new understanding of the mistake I was making by resisting the will of God). Here Isabel manipulates the idea of resistance by insisting that "not writing" is insubordination to God.

Isabel not only secretly enjoyed writing at certain times but she was also aware of her ability to tell stories and to influence the reader/listener. According to her narrative, Isabel led a devoted group of women who listened to her tell stories in the afternoons. The nun's verbal skills were so effective that her followers preferred speaking with her rather than with their own confessors. Similar to the image of the Devil devouring humans, the confessor is presented as a lion ready to swallow the women: "Tomáronme mucho amor, yo tambien, y muchas cosas que tenian verguença de dezirselas al Cura, me las dezian a mi. . . que piensan que el Confesor es un León, y se los ha de tragar (65) (They had much love for me and I for them. They were too embarrassed to tell many things to the priest so they told them to me . . . as they think that the confessor is a lion who will devour them).5 Within the strategic structure designed to engender and promote the continuation of this autobiography, it is easy to see how the text supports women's legitimate claim to participation in public discourse. In fact, Isabel explains how the command to record one's life on paper can also be a positive sign of status in the convent. In her own autobiography, we read of the jealousy one nun felt for another when the latter was asked to write her own life story: "A mi no me han mandado que escriva mi vida como a Fulana; mas cierto que se podia, porque es mucho lo que Dios haze conmigo, y las mercedes que me haze; mas mira, muchos Santos están en el Cielo que no escrivieron sus vidas, y no por eso dexan de estar en el Cielo" (613) (They have not ordered me to write my life like they did that other woman. But they certainly could have because there is much that God does through me as well as the favors that he shows me. But look, there are many saints in heaven who did not write their life stories, and that does not mean they are not in heaven).

Page 73 In a subsequent story about a quiet and holy woman, our author describes someone who sounds suspiciously like herself. Although she knew much about prayer, this timid nun never said anything to her confessor. Like Isabel, she had no sisters, just brothers. When she finally was given a different confessor who became better acquainted with her and realized she had something worthwhile to say, this confessor ordered her to write her life in detail. Isabel mentions this humble woman, she explains, because there are many good people who dare not express themselves but should be forced to do so: "He dicho esto, por que puede aver almas que de cortas, y encogidas no se atrevan a contar lo que pasa en sus almas; a estas es menester hazerlas que hablen" (653; emphasis mine) (I have said this because there may be shy and timid souls who do not dare tell what happens in their hearts. It is these persons who should be forced to speak). This statement is a direct challenge to the clergy who oppose the public voice of women religious. Unlike the first confessor who was unable to detect the shy nun's piety, the second confessor discovered that she had something valuable to say. Isabel de Jesús' autobiography affirms the right for holy women to put pen to paper and participate in literary self-representation, just as male writers had been able to do for centuries. Negative View of the Prowriting Argument: The Confessor-Nun Relationship Some confessors asked the nuns to write because they believed they had something to contribute to the Church. This positive view, reflected in Isabel's declaration that "it is these persons who should be forced to speak," supports and defends these marginalized authors.

6 The occasional presentation of the confessor-nun relationship as conflictive may be a textual strategy utilized to protect a compatible and favorable bond between the two. Nuns such as Santa Teresa were very successful at seeking out understanding confessors who would approach their written work with a sympathetic attitude. But many others were not always confident of their confessors' continued support. Therefore, when the confessor emerges as a potential enemy, another member of the ecclesiastical order in agreement with the dangerous assessments of the Inquisition, we must question whether the author is expressing feelings of distrust or merely trying to disguise a supportive relationship in which the nun is encouraged to voice her opinion. Needless to say, of the two options, the latter could present numerous problems for both the confessor and nun. How-

Page 74 ever, despite possible antagonism between Isabel and her confessor, the fact that her life narrative ultimately received full support through publication proves the success of the narrative strategies that portray the confessor as the literary nun's adversary. Despite possible ulterior motives, the confessor's role is crucial in the creation and approbation of the nun's text. Accordingly, throughout Isabel's work we see the great disparity of opinion among confessors: "Cada uno dezia diferente del otro; y uno me dezia, que era bueno el padecer; otro, que aquellas cosas que dezia parecia demonio" (18) (Each one said something different from the other. One told me that it was good to suffer, and another said that those things I was saying seemed like the Devil's work). In fact, when Isabel explains how she met her confessor or V.md. (the explicit reader/narratee), she claims that his first command to her was that she drop the confessor she was seeing at that time: "Lo primero que me dixo V.md. fue, que no avia de verle más a mi Confesor" (106) (The first thing that Your Excellency told me was that I was no longer to see my confessor). Isabel clearly explains the mutual lack of trust between her and her confessors; the priests did not always believe her incredible visions, and she did not trust their sincerity or agree with their arbitrary assessments. After Isabel recounts a horrifying vision of demons from hell, her confessor looked for other possible explanations: "Díxele a mi confesor lo que avia visto; espantóse mucho, y preguntóme: Qué tanto ha que no duermes?" (19) (I told my confessor what I had seen. He was very shocked, and he asked me, "How long has it been since you slept?"). In fact, Isabel was advised to ignore all visions and to seek a second opinion from another priest. The new priest believed her visions to be deceptions created by the Devil and by her melancholic condition. Accordingly, he recommended that she quit prayer and instead consult the Holy Office because, he said, the priests had been instructed to send such nuns directly to the Inquisition. However, Isabel's confessor strongly opposed the advice this priest gave her: "Di quenta a mi confesor de todo, diziéndole, que yo estava determinada a ir a la Inquisición. . . . No fue posible el dexarme, diziendo, que si estava loca, que no lo avía de consentir". (25) (I told my confessor everything, saying that I was determined to go to the Inquisition. . . . He insisted that he would not allow me to go, saying, that if I was crazy, he would not consent to it). As a result, Isabel was caught between two opposing priests. If she obeyed one, she would disobey the other. By exposing the contradictions in the policies toward women religious, Isabel shows the arbitrary nature

Page 75 of recommendations and judgments: "Estava mi alma metida en gran confusión, . . . si iva a la Inquisición, no obedecía; si dexava la oración, faltava a lo que me avían mandado" (25-6) (My soul was placed in great confusion, . . . if I went to the Inquisition, I would not obey; if I quit mental prayer, I would fail to do what they had commanded me).

7

The conflict between Isabel's confessor and the priest is also reflected in her own inner battle over whether to go to the Inquisition and get the judgment over with, to "pay for my sins in this life and not in the next," or to obey her confessor and avoid the Holy Office. However, despite the fear created by the threat of confrontation with the Inquisition, Isabel is careful to describe the real or imagined encounters as positive. In an attempt to explain the conflictive situation between two opposing priests, Isabel takes the initiative and goes directly to the Holy Office for an unscheduled visit. Our author describes this meeting and a subsequent reunion of Isabel and the Inquisitional official as pleasant and nonjudgmental. Isabel wants to clarify that her activities reflected the incompatible advice of two different priests. Logically, she anticipated trouble, as it would be impossible to remain obedient to both men. However, after she confessed, the presiding official's only recommendation was that she follow the commands of her confessor. After Isabel thanked the ecclesiastic, he served her breakfast. Isabel attempts to prove her innocence and the error of the other priest while also showing how the Inquisitorial official seems to befriend her. A later meeting, when she goes to the Holy Office to help free a girl who was being held for having gossiped about Isabel, is similarly positive: "Díxele: Señor, que no sea pública la afrenta, sino con gran misericordia, como la que V.md. tuvo conmigo. Riyóse mucho; es pues, de esa manera, no haremos más de embiarla a su casa" (37) (I told him, "Sir, may the affront not be made public but with great mercy like Your Excellency showed me." He laughed a lot. "Well then, we will do no more than send her home"). Isabel explains that the presidente was friendly because he remembered her from their first meeting. Again the nun dispels doubts about her treatment by the Inquisition. She also uses the opportunity to demonstrate her holy and forgiving nature as she generously saves another woman from a threatened auto de fe. Despite the display of saintly intervention, Isabel is not fully confident of her status, as is evident by her identification with the accused. The nun recommends that the woman's case be handled discreetly, as was her own meeting with the Holy Office. We are constantly reminded of the first encounter with the Inquisition during this episode, and the text makes clear that all contact with the

Page 76 Holy Office was based on innocence and humility. Moreover, these visits were initiated by Isabel, not the Holy Office. Perhaps the most significant image of tribunal judgment is based not on an actual episode but on a vision. Tormented by thoughts that the Inquisition would judge her writings, Isabel decided to take her works directly to the Holy Office to face the inevitable examination instead of having to wait, wondering if what she was writing would be judged orthodox or heretical. When she asked her confessor for the notebooks, he refused to return them. According to the text, after much suffering and anguish, Isabel was visited by a group of saints who reassured her that her writings were holy and that God was the true judge of her works. Then Isabel had a vision in which her writings appeared before a heavenly tribunal and were declared holy and orthodox. Conoci que era mi Redemptor. . . . Y me dixo: Ya han venido estos escritos a mi Tribunal; no dudes más, y camina con paz, obrando lo que te fuere ordenado por el que sabes que está en mi lugar; todo lo demás dámelo a mi, que yo te lo guardaré para su tiempo, y aora anda en paz. (531) I realized that he was my Savior. . . . And He told me, "These writings have come to my court. Doubt no more and go in peace, doing what is commanded of you by he whom you know is in my place. Everything else, give to me. I will keep it for you until the right time and now go in peace." The text defends itself by creating its own judgment using a superior authority free of earthly errors or contradictions. With God as the divine reader, Isabel's work is found innocent and the confessor's mandate to continue her writing is also defended. Despite Isabel's desire to stop writing, the text ultimately supports the command to write. The dual role of the confessor as protector and denouncer, able to either defend or accuse, is the basis of the complex confessor-nun relationship. Like Santa Teresa, who utilizes a variety of interlocutors, Isabel presents various "good" versus "bad" confessors. Consequently, Isabel's writings were in constant danger depending on how the various priests viewed their content. However, she also needed the confessor's power to protect and defend her writings from other accusations. Both sides of this problematic coin are evident in Isabel's preoccupations with the safekeeping and final outcome of her notebooks. Worried that her writings would fall into the wrong hands if she died, she was careful to hand in each notebook as she wrote. Isabel's writings attest to her anxiety. Because of the cooperation between the confessors and the Inquisitorial authorities,

Page 77 the nun nervously awaited the final verdict based on the interpretations of her written works. The Antiwriting Argument The metawriting dialogue, initiated by the confessor's mandate that Isabel write, requires a response that argues against putting pen to paper. One debate is posited between God and the Devil, while another is between ecclesiastical society (the confessor or the Inquisition) and Isabel. Within the antiwriting position, the text presents three arguments against writing. The first is set forth by Isabel and is based on the fear of being accused of heterodoxy. The second, derived from resistance to writing, uses a "false humility" strategy to show the expected support of the traditional belief that women should remain silent in the Church. This disputation is also presented by ecclesiastical officials in the approbations of Isabel's autobiography. The societal conditions reflected in these preliminary narratives written by men created the need for literary nuns to "hate" writing. The text nonetheless covertly undermines this premise by using the critical and cynical voice of the Devil. The third antiwriting argument is set forth by the Devil to prevent the spread of God's holy word. Fear of the Written Word Isabel realized early in life that she would be punished for the possession and/or assumed authorship of certain writings. She learned at a young age that written discourse, as opposed to verbal discourse, provided physical evidence that could be used against her. In the first chapter of her autobiography, Isabel describes how she was reprimanded by her mother, brother, and confessor when another girl hid her own papers among Isabel's belongings. In addition to suffering unjustly, Isabel presents herself as even more Christ-like when she chose not to confess her innocence but to protect the guilty party. Later, in Book II, when Isabel was given a note from a suffering soul asking for her help, she explains how she had to destroy it to protect herself. Since Isabel did not have a permanent confessor at that time and the note was not in her handwriting, she was afraid of possible consequences: "No quisiera que encontraran con el papel, y le rompí, porque no era de mi letra, y como entonces no tenia Confesor de asiento, no lo quise guardar" (141) (I did not want them to find the paper, and I destroyed it because it was not in my handwriting, and as I did not have a permanent confessor at that time, I did not want to keep it). We can

Page 78 assume that Isabel did not want to keep the note because she was not protected from potential misinterpretations or because she had the freedom to either save or dispose of the papers in her possession. When Isabel obtains a permanent confessor, all her writings become his property. As we have seen, Isabel does not express full trust or confidence in her confessor's efforts to protect her. When the Devil tells Isabel that her confessor has been giving her writings to another woman, she becomes upset and angrily responds that it belongs to her confessor and that he can "do whatever he wants" with her work: "Tanto me persigue el enemigo en esto que V.md. le ha dado mis papeles, que le dixe: Ya esos papeles son suyos, y como suyos podrá darlos, o quemarlos, o hazer de ellos lo que quisiere" (608) (The enemy torments me so much about whether Your Excellency has given my writings to another person that I said to him, "These papers are now his and therefore he can distribute them or burn them or do whatever he wants with them"). Our author is obviously concerned about the circulation of her works. She shows distrust in her confessor through the Devil's accusation. Moreover, her response seems like an indirect request to her male confessor, the addressee and narratee, to be more discreet with her writings. Since her confessor kept Isabel's papers in his possession, the loss of control over her writings is a recurrent worry in the text. The Devil repeatedly promises to retrieve her writings from the confessor to relieve her fears: "Si quieres que todos los papeles que tiene tuyos . . . te los traeré, y aquí los quemaremos todos, y con eso no avrás miedo que los enseñe a nadie, ni te dirá que escrivas más; con eso te escusas de muchos enfados que te pueden suceder" (447-48) (If you want all your papers that he has . . . I will bring them to you, and here we will burn them all, and with that you will no longer be afraid that he will show them to anybody nor will he tell you to write anymore. This way you will be excused from many troubles that befall you). The Devil clearly articulates Isabel's own worries of being investigated, her desire for control over her work, and her fear of punishment. In fact, the cynical voice of the Devil becomes the perfect channel for Isabel's criticisms of her confessors or other Church fathers, since such attacks were expected from God's enemy. In his study of cynicism, Critique of Cynical Reason, Peter Sloterdijk explains that the figure of the Devil enjoys the freedom to speak the truth. "Only from the Devil can one learn 'how things really are"' (175). When the Devil tells Isabel that her confessor is worried that her writings might affect his own reputation, the Devil's declaration is believable. Alison Weber writes of the complex relationship between Santa Teresa

Page 79 and the confessors who commanded her to write. "Given the Inquisition's persecution of Illuminists, they were understandably alarmed at Teresa's experiences and realized that they needed to protect her as well as themselves against charges of heresy" (Teresa 44). The confessor's ultimate responsibility for the content of Isabel's writings is evident in the approbations at the beginning of her narrative: "No avia menester más aprobación este libro, que saber era vida de una muger governada por el P.M.Fr. Manuel de Paredes" (Approbation of Francisco Ximenez de Mayorgal) (There was no need for more approval of this book than knowing that it was the life of a woman guided by Father Manuel de Paredes). Considering the injunction against holy women claiming religious authority, putting pen to paper was a daring act for a nun who spent much time engaged in literary activity. Aware of the fact that the quantity of her writings would increase her chances of committing heresy, Isabel expresses fear of the law of God and the law of the Catholic faith: "y escriviendo tanto tiempo, y tan largo . . . no podría menos de caer en muchos errores contra la Ley de Dios, y contra la Santa Fé Católica" (299-300) (and writing so often and so much . . . I could not help but fall in many errors against God's will and against the Holy Catholic Faith). "Let Your Women Keep Silence in the Churches" The modesty formulas, typical in the prologues of both men and women, are particularly prominent in the writings by religious women. Aware of the impossibility of maintaining silence while engaging in literary activity, these writers are forced to include an almost continual disclaimer of self-confidence. Weber discusses the discourse used by Santa Teresa in her autobiography as a "rhetoric of humility." "In sum, we can only conclude that Teresa's position, as a woman and an ecstatic, was so precarious that she repeatedly needed to request the benevolent cooperation of her audience and at the same time 'disavow her abilities and favors"' (Teresa 50). Following Santa Teresa's example, Isabel uses the self-deprecatory remarks immediately before or after any exposition of her strength, talents, or virtue. We can see the rapid reversal from holy confidence to affected modesty when Isabel helped a woman with an eating problem: "O Dios de mi alma, cómo se dobla mi confusión, de que considero que de sólo verme esta persona, temió a Dios, y se mejoró tanto su alma. . . . Yo no sé, ni entiendo mi vida tan tonta, tan sin provecho" (210) (Oh God of my soul, how my embarrassment doubles when I consider that when this

Page 80 person just saw me she feared God and her soul greatly improved. . . . I do not know, nor do I understand, my silly and useless life). The nun skillfully utilizes the formulas of inadequacy to justify her narrative. Isabel claims to be sinful; but being sinful, she explains, is to not write: ''Me consolava de verme mala por no escrivir'' (210) (I consoled myself seeing my sin in not writing). So she protects herself directly with self-abnegation, while indirectly she defends the right to put pen to paper. Considering the lack of theological doctrine and metanarrative commentaries in the first part of Isabel's autobiography, it is evident that the religious discourse and the power she felt once she became a nun engendered the metawriting commentary that follows these narratives. Isabel is aware of the danger of women writing about theology and consequently anticipates the misogynist attacks by addressing those arguments before her reader can do the same. After a vision in which angels praise her, Isabel exclaims, Deseo que V.md. se canse de leer estas boberias tan sin substancia para el alma; y luego considerar el peligro tan grande que puede tener en que una muger tan ignorante escriva cosas que no sabe, ni entiende, ni entenderá nunca. (665; italics mine) I hope that Your Excellency tires of reading these silly things without any substance for the soul; and then considering the great danger that can happen when such an ignorant woman writes things which she does not know, she neither understands, nor will ever understand. Isabel's narrative explains that even though ignorant women should not be wasting their time writing, she must obey her confessor and resist the Devil's temptations to quit this holy act. The text also reverses the expected humility usually associated with not appropriating a public voice, by declaring that her own lack of modesty invited her to disobey her confessor by not writing. When Isabel lost a notebook before giving it to her confessor, she was bothered by thoughts of having to rewrite the pages. She explains that her self-love and lack of humility caused her to resist writing. Isabel asks herself how long she will oppose putting pen to paper and concludes by promising God that she will write more and with a more positive attitude instead of trying to escape the trabajo intolerable (intolerable task). When Isabel attempts to humbly avoid literary activity, her metanarrative strategy creates a resistance to the misogynist beliefs that prohibit theological writing for women. Moreover, by defining "not writing" as pride, Isabel appears modest and can emphasize her duty to

Page 81 obey God and her confessor, much like the way in which Santa Teresa defines "not practicing" mental prayer as false humility. The Devil and the Tortures of Writing The third antiwriting strategy in the text is developed through the figure of the Devil. The Devil uses every possible tactic to prevent Isabel from writing the word of God, which ultimately proves the holiness of the narrative. Since the Devil appears to torture Isabel whenever she puts pen to paper, the reader is reassured that her narrative serves to fight God's enemy. Because these satanic attacks are so extreme, Isabel suffers more for writing than for any other mortification. The demonic tortures serve different functions. Not only does the Devil's presence emphasize the holy effect of the narrative to teach others about God but the pain Isabel endures as a result of the Devil's cruelty identifies her as a holy martyr. The rhetoric and physical torture used by the Devil to prevent Isabel from finding a voice in the Church resemble the verbal and physical tactics utilized by the patriarchal power structure against women. Like male-dominant society, the Devil is threatened by the potential power of Isabel's discourse and therefore tries to silence her. Accordingly, the text creates an implicit comparison between the Devil and men in positions of authority. Shortly before taking the veil, Isabel had already been commanded to write. At this time the Devil began to threaten her verbally to persuade her to stop writing before he would begin more serious tortures. Si no dexas ese camino, y ese escrivir, y ese modo de vida; y quien te aconseja, y ha intentado que hagas lo que hazes, lo pagará peor que tú, pues si no fuera por él, tú no lo hizieras; y si no, mira como no hallas la pluma, ni el papel, y el tintero está con azeyte muchas vezes. (151) If you do not discontinue this path and this writing and this way of life as well as he who counsels you, as it is he who has proposed that you do what you do, he will suffer more than you. If it were not for him you would not write. If not, see if you cannot find your pen or paper, and the inkwell will often be full of oil. This emotional blackmail frightened Isabel, and she was unable to talk for two days after the episode. However, it did not provoke the nausea that recurs after she takes the habit and the Devil begins his cruel and

Page 82 disgusting tactics. The first two chapters after Isabel joins the convent are entirely dedicated to the troubles she had during the hour designated for writing. Once Isabel becomes a nun, the Devil fulfills his promised verbal and physical impediments such as smoke, darkness, and missing pen, paper, and ink. When these initial obstructions fail, the enemy sends other demonic figures such as monkeys, black cats, and mosquitoes to keep Isabel from writing. According to the text, to stop writing would mean to succumb to the Devil's temptations. In this way, her metawriting is necessary for the continuation of the autobiography. Although her discourse appears to be an artificial construct used to manipulate the reader, her writing anxiety must not be dismissed as staged. One reason these self-aware narratives are included is her knowledge and fear of the possible consequences of a negative reaction to her work. Isabel carefully explains the entire process of writing, beginning with the obligation and then proceeding to the anxiety of authorship. Gilbert and Gubar argue that this "anxiety of authorship" is limited to women writers because of the misogynist socialization of women: "an anxiety built from complex and often only barely conscious fears of that authority which seems to the female artist to be by definition inappropriate to her sex" (51). As a result, women writers have historically felt the need to examine, repeatedly, the production of their work. Thus the rigid limitations these marginalized authors have faced on entering the literary arena have actually obliged them to confront, in their works, the problems of being a woman writer in their society. The anxiety of authorship present in Isabel's narrative is not only based on fear of the reception of her written word but also on her problems with the act of putting pen to paper. Isabel narrates the terror of entering her room at the designated hour to write, grasping the pen, situating the paper and inkwell, and finally putting her pen to paper. These intricate details are usually included to show how the Devil tries to interfere in all stages of the writing process. According to the text, the mere thought of having to write caused anguish, sweating, and vomiting. In fact, at times her own worries about the obligation to write troubled her even when she was not near a pen or paper. The second chapter after Isabel joined the convent begins with a continuation of the sufferings caused by her having to write. These tortures include traditional figures historically associated with the Devil. Después en poniéndome a escrivir eran los mosquitos tantos, y tan grandes, que tapavan la luz.. . . [V]i junto de mi con los ojos del cuerpo muchos monos todos con tinteros, y papeles, escrivi-

Page 83 endo con gran prisa, y me parecia eran los mismos quadernos que yo escrivia . . . y quedé turbada, y con temor siempre, si era voluntad de Dios el escrivir. . . . Fuime a mi retiro para escrivir, y al entrar por el aposento estavan a la puerta unos como gatos negros, que de los ojos les salian llamas, con un humo tan negro, y tan espeso. (186-88; emphasis mine) Later when trying to write, there were so many mosquitoes, and so huge, that they covered the light. . . . I saw near me with my own eyes many monkeys all with inkwells and paper, writing very fast, and it seemed to me that they had the same notebooks that I was writing. . . . I was upset with the constant fear wondering if it was God's will that I write. . . . I went to my room to write and upon entering, at the door there were something like black cats with flames leaping from their eyes and such thick black smoke.

8

Jean Franco believes that the continual protestations by nuns against the obligation to write reveal a sincere abhorrence of recording their experiences on paper. "Writing gave them no pleasure" (3). Franco also observes that certain demonic visions may be externalizations of the writers' feelings of unworthiness. Certainly the previous passage from Isabel's text enacts real anxieties and doubts about her literary activities. Isabel associates her writing with maleficence when she realizes that the papers written by demonic monkeys were in fact her own notebooks. Regardless of Isabel's feelings of self-doubt, the ultimate goal of the metanarrative is to show how God supports her writing: "Me dava su magestad un ánimo y una determinación tan valiente de no dexar de escrivir" (188) (His Majesty gave me the desire and courageous determination to continue writing). The text manipulates the concept of "God's will" to express Isabel's personal aspirations for her own writing. The intense suffering at the hands of the Devil and professed doubts about whether an ''ignorant" nun has the right to record religious ideas on paper cause Isabel to express a desire to quit writing. Nonetheless, Isabel sees that God continues to encourage her literary work. Writing becomes superior to all other holy activities such as prayer and earning money for the Church. When Isabel claims that she would rather be in prayer or perhaps raising money for the Church, she disobeys commands from both her confessor and God. Anticipating criticisms that nuns spend too much time writing, Isabel reveals similar concerns about how she can best utilize her time for God. Although the preoccupation with the amount of time dedicated to literary activity was a common theme in nuns' writing, the conclusion for Isabel is always the same: writing is what God has chosen for her.9

Page 85

5 Disgust, Nausea, and Writing "Writing the Body" To show the lengths to which the Devil goes to stop Isabel's narrative, the text presents graphic accounts of his tactics. The Devil's repulsive methods are so extreme that Isabel is frequently nauseated during the hour designated for writing. A passage from the first chapter after Isabel becomes a nun clearly demonstrates the important role that writing and nausea played in her conventual life: "Me recogí a ver si podia escrivir algo, y de la fuerça que me hize, se alborotó el cuerpo de manera, que bolvi la comida, con tanta fuerça, que pensé rebentar, y esto en el alma con grandes deseos de no bolver a escrivir más en mi vida" (185; emphasis mine) (I sat down to see if I could write something, but because of the force against me, my body was so overwhelmed that I vomited with such force that I thought I would burst open and deep in my soul I had a great desire to never write again in my life). Her nausea becomes proof of the holy suffering and illness that result from the horrendous demonic figures that appear to her: "entraron dos monaços con unas colas larguisimas, . . . bolví todo lo que avia comido, con tantas ansias, que pensé rebentar, hasta echar sangre por las narizes" (211) (two big monkeys with long tails entered. . . . I vomited everything I had eaten with so much anxiety that I thought I would burst open; even blood issued through my nose). The importance of the body and physicality as a form of expression in women's writings cannot be over-emphasized. The manipulation of bodily experiences seems to have been the main vehicle available to women for access to religion. Medieval women were consistently more apt to use bodily metaphors in their works than male writers. In fact, this was expected of women, since traditional theologians associated the body with women and were therefore not surprised that women's writings were more "physical and physiological then men's" (Bynum, Fragmentation 200). This physicality could also be used as a solution to the limitations placed

Page 86 on female spirituality (Robertson 272). In Isabel de Jesús, this physical expression becomes a "subversive bodily act" as inner material is seditiously brought forth to the outside. Judith Butler argues that this "expulsion" is followed by a "revulsion'' against hegemonic identities in women's narratives. ''The boundary of the body as well as the distinction between internal and external is established through the ejection and transvaluation of something originally part of identity into a defiling otherness" (133). Through her nausea, Isabel uses the body as a way of ejecting the unwanted or alien identity of the silent nun ascribed to her by male tradition. When Petroff examines the importance of bodily illness in the lives and works of medieval women visionaries, she argues that sickness is the manifestation of a conflict related to writing. Many women mystics speak of a period of illness that precedes their decision to write down their experiences. They are fearful about what they expect to be negative responses to their writing, yet inwardly compelled to speak publicly of what they have experienced. The resolution to their dilemma comes only when a divine voice tells them they must write. Once they begin, they find that it is a healing process and that they gain strength from articulating what they know about the spiritual life. (Medieval 42) Petroff's descriptions of the conflictive writing process for medieval women mystics differs in some ways from the pattern we see in Isabel de Jesús' autobiography. The bodily disturbance related to writing in Isabel's text is frequently nausea. This reaction to worries such as expected negative responses generally occurs during or after the writing period. However, the medieval women writers that Petroff discusses become sick before writing and then recover after recording their ideas. As the medieval mystic Marguerite d'Oingt refers to herself in the third person, she describes the therapeutic power of expressing her ideas through writing: "And when she had written everything, she was completely cured. I firmly believe that if she had not put it in writing she would have died or become crazy" (quoted in Petroff, Medieval 44). The account of Isabel's life was not the only sacred writing that needed protection from the Devil's tortures. Even letter writing was important enough to attract the attention of the demons. When God asked her to write a letter to another nun, Isabel initially resisted the command, but she was reprimanded and forced to put pen to paper. Isabel is nauseated by the repugnant scene caused by her epistolary activity.

Page 87 Vine con determinación de escrivirle aquella noche; mas fueron muchos los estorvos que el enegmigo me puso para que no lo hiziese: . . .ni vía más de sapos, con grande temor del papel que hiqiese: . . .ni vía más de sapos, con grande temor del papel que avia escrito a la Monja, . . .ví espantosisimas figuras . . . una vezes estornudando, otras alborotándose el estómago . . . . [I]va a rebentar, o echar las entrañas. (221-22, emphasis mine) I was determined to write to her that night, but there were so many impediments that the enemy presented to prevent me from writing . . . . [A]ll I could see were toads. With great fear of the paper that I had written to the nun, . . I saw horrifying creatures . . . . sometimes making me sneeze, other times upsetting my stomach. . . .I thought I was going to burst open to heave my guts. At first glance, these passages seem particularly dangerous considering the seventeenth-century documentation on demonic possession. As noted in chapter 2, traditional treatises on possession describe symptoms such as stomach problems, vomiting, sneezing, and fumes of sulfur or other strong odors. Likewise, toads were considered to be the product of the union between demons and witches (Marino Ferro 92). Many other sixteenth-and seventeenth- century nuns recount apparition of demons in the form of terrifying animals and other "horrifying figures."

1 The more loathsome the figure, the more pious the saintly nun appears since she survived such frightening persecution.

Isabel's narrative distinguishes itself from other writings by early modern religious women in the direct relation they set up between the Devil, nausea, and writing. The theme of writing in her text is seldom present without the Devil and/or nausea. Isabel is so confident in her ability to prove her sanctity that she can play with demonic images and use them to her own advantage. She explains how the smell of sulfur had penetrated inside her chest and throat when she writes (a dangerous confession considering the "inside-possession, outside- obsession" trait) as a sign from God to punish her vain interest in good odors (traditionally a sign of holiness). Esto del olor del alquibrite, y el humo, se ha ido continuando todas las nockes, en el tiempo sólo que estoy escriviendo; . . . se ha asentado en la garganta, y en el pecho una tos, que me es de grande estorvo para escrivir; y demás desto, está en el pecho muy arraygado el olor del alquibrite; y si bevo, también el estómago se descompone, y se desaçona; con que yo pienso que Dios lo permite, por lo aficionada que he sido a los buenos olores; devian de ser sin duda con mucha vanidad. (567; emphasis mine)

Page 88 This smell of sulfur and the smoke has continued every night and only during the time that I am writing . . . and in my throat and my chest has entered such a cough that it is difficult to write. And in addition to this, the smell of sulfur has rooted in my chest; and if I drink, my stomach becomes so upset and queasy that I believe that God allows it because of how attracted I have been to good fragrances, which must have been with much vanity. Isabel offers a dual message to the reader when she states that she is so pious that she prefers only good fragrances.

2 Then she humbly claims that her piety must have been expressed with vanity because now it is God who permits her suffering. Thus, by insisting that God is in control of her mortifications, Isabel protects herself from accusations of demonic intervention when she writes.

Nausea is also present as a reaction to the anxiety of authorship. These symptoms occur during the act of writing as well as afterward. Aware of the controversial content of certain notebooks, Isabel finishes many passages with descriptions of illnesses usually related to the stomach, mouth, or throat area. After criticizing the monarchy of Carlos II and his brother Don Juan of Austria, Isabel is again visited by the Devil and afflicted with vomiting: "si llegava a comer no podia, porque delante de mí se ponia este enemigo a hazer muchas porquerias, que olían tan mal, que me hazia bolver la comida" (492) (if I tried to eat I could not because the enemy would come before me in such disgusting ways that smelled so bad that it made me throw up my food). Isabel reminds the reader that her real king is God. When the Devil appears to punish her for the content of this chapter, Isabel shows how her political voice is as holy as her theological voice. The entire chapter after the exposition of her poetry is dedicated to the theme of vomiting, death, and writing. As if writing were a direct threat to her health and life, Isabel expresses the anxiety and nausea she experiences as a result of her literary work. Me senté a escrivir, fue de manera el hedor de alcribite, y el humo en el aposento, que me aturdió, que no me pude mover, dándome un mal en el estómago, y coraçon, que me caí en el suelo . . . sentí que me tomaron el pulso, y oí que dixeron: Ay que no tiene pulso! . . Mejoré algo con la voluntad de Dios, y acabé lo que estava haziendo de escrivir, y quedé por más de ocho días con aquella inquietud al estómago, parecia iva a rebentar, padecia mucho por no dezir lo que era, y por no dezir que era defecto de la comida, porque no lo era, sino mis pecados, . . . Pensavan que era de no

Page 89 comer. . . . El mal del estómago era muy grande, porque despues del debilitamiento, se inquietava el estómago, y provocava a bómito, y no me atrevia a comulgar, . . . Me durava más el mal de estómago; hazianme almorçar, y luego venia el peor mal, que era el hedor, y el alboroto del estómago. (648-49) I sat down to write and the stench of sulfur and smoke was so bad in my room that it stunned me and I could not move. My stomach and heart were in such pain that I fell to the floor. . . . I felt them take my pulse and I heard them say, "Oh no, she has no pulse!" . . . I improved a bit with the grace of God and I finished what I had started to write, but I remained more than eight days with that upset stomach. It seemed that I would burst open I suffered so much for not telling what it was, and not saying that there was something wrong with the food, because there was not, but rather my sins . . . [T]hey thought it was caused by the lack of food . . . . My stomach ache was so bad that, after getting weaker, my stomach became upset and caused me to vomit and I did not dare take communion . . . . [M]y stomach problem continued, but they made me eat and later came the worst, which was the stench and the agitated stomach. Isabel tries to separate her stomach problems from the suspected food issues, preferring instead to attribute her nausea to the Devil and her writing. Isabel's nausea, associated with the act of writing, can be interpreted as a natural reaction to the "disgusting" idea of women writing in the Church, or it can be seen as a rejection of the demonic attempts to prevent women from writing. Within the metanarrative and the opposing prowriting and antiwriting arguments, the text reveals the contradictions in patriarchal society related to women's role in the Church. Isabel's discourse brilliantly confronts the repression in a misogynist system by giving voice to this subjugation in order to reject it while simultaneously appearing to support the oppressive order. The text continues the association of nausea and the Devil with the act of writing in a disturbing scene in which the Devil dismembers religious figures previously believed to have gone to heaven. Upon devouring these dead bodies, the Devil vomits them and then reingests what he has just regurgitated. This graphic exhibition, not surprisingly, caused Isabel herself to get sick. As she and the Devil observe the disgusting display, we learn that Isabel's vomit turns to ink. Me traía el enemigo a mis ojos algunos cuerpos que ya eran muertos, y yo los conocia por almas santas, y amigas de Dios; . . .

Page 90 Las despedaçava con las manos, como si fueran cuchillos, y se las comia, y luego en comiéndolas, las tornava a bomitar, y hazer lo mismo de bolvérselas a comer; mas era este bómito de tal hedor, que con tener yo el estómago algo recio, me hazia bolver lo que tenia en el, y me parecia a mi manchava el suelo, como si a aquella parte la huvieran echado mucha tinta, y salía de allí humo negrisimo como tinta también; y me dava el enemigo brega como via tanta tinta . . . . Coge de aquí, para que no te falte con que escrivas; . . . Aora no te hará falta, porque no te mandan que escrivas; . . . y estava con hartos temores si era voluntad de Dios, o no, el que yo escriviera, o no; y como soy tan pereçosa en esto de escrivir, me arrimava a creer, que no era voluntad de Dios el que yo escriviera, y así lo dexava de buena gana. (388) The enemy showed me some bodies that were already dead and I recognized them as holy souls and friends of God. . . . [H]e dismembered them with his hands as if they were knives and he ate them and after eating them he began to vomit and then eat them again. As my stomach was somewhat heavy, the stench of the vomit made me throw up what I had eaten and it seemed like it stained the floor as if they had spilled a lot of ink there and then very black smoke like ink appeared from it. The Devil harassed me when he saw the ink: . . . "Take from here so that you will not lack with which to write . . . . [N]ow you will have enough, because they do not order you to write" . . . and I had many fears about whether it was God's will or not that I write. And as I am so lazy about writing, I wanted to believe that it was not God's will that I write and so I willingly quit. This powerful scene demonstrates many of the major themes in the text's metanarrative. Isabel expresses fear of being punished for her holy endeavors. First, the Devil makes it clear that not all people believed to be saintly will go to Heaven: "Mira las almas que tu conociste por buenas, y santas, mira como ya las tengo en mi poder" (388) (Look at the souls that you knew as good and holy, look how I now have them in my power). Then Isabel again questions whether it is God's will that she write. Part of this strategy is based on a self- defense of her work. When the Devil tells her that she is not obligated to write "porque no te mandan que escrivas" (because they do not order you to write), the text indirectly defends the holiness of an activity not endorsed by the enemy. However, the Devil's sarcastic comments encouraging Isabel to use the vomit as ink for her writings reveal her own anxiety about her literary activity. The text consistently associates nausea with the act of writing. The image of vomit as

Page 91 ink supports the idea of writing as a form of rejection. Just as the body attempts to expel or reject something inside through the mouth by vomiting, the writer releases what is inside through the pen and paper while also rejecting the traditional belief that women should not participate in public communication. Both aspects of this prohibition, verbal (mouth) and written (ink), coalesce in the image of the vomit/ink. The fact that the Devil finds her writing to be as disgusting as vomit is not surprising when we examine the approbations introducing Isabel's text. These male-authored statements express similar repugnance at the idea of a woman writing in the Church. The Devil as Representative of Patriarchal Society The destructive force mobilized by the Devil to prevent Isabel from writing is often associated with male society. Opinions expressed in the approbations reflecting patriarchal attitudes toward women using writing to preach God's word appear later in Isabel's narrative. Gabriel de San Joseph writes in his approbation, No me parecía bien que una muger escriviese doctrina para lo público, quando ay tantos libros de hombres doctísimos, que nos enseñan todo lo que ella nos puede dezir; y ser contra lo que manda el Apóstol a las mugeres, . . . que las mugeres no han de enseñar en las Iglesias, y menos en estos tiempos, en que toda quanta doctrina nos pueden enseñar, la hallamos en tantos y tan excelentes libros de varones santisimos y doctísimos. It does not seem right to me that a woman write doctrine for the public when there are so many books by learned men that teach us all that she could tell us. Likewise, it goes against what the Apostle commanded women, . . . that women are not to teach in the churches and much less during these times; with regard to the doctrine that they can teach us, we can find it in so many excellent books written by holy and learned men. In Isabel's narrative, similar arguments are delivered by demons in the form of huge pigs (marranaços) with horrifying eyes and fangs: "Cómo te atreves tú a escrivir, y a enseñar a otros? . . . porque es mucha sobervia tuya el conocer que puedes tú predicar como el Baptista; eso de predicar es para grandes letrados" (225) ("How do you dare to write and teach others? . . . because it is your pride to think that you can preach like the Baptist; and preaching is only for great learned men). When Isabel puts

Page 92 the antifeminism rhetoric (typically associated with patriarchal society) in the mouth of a marranaço, this episode proves to be more than just another torture session by the Devil. At first, her decision to use the image of a large pig seems in keeping with the tradition of demonic symbols. Sor Mariana de Jesús (1577-1620) was also visited by the Devil in the form of a cerdoso jabalí: "a ferocious and bristly wild boar grunting while rolling over, rooting and biting her body" (Mariñio Ferro 91). However, the use of the term marranafo in Isabel's text communicates more than just the traditional symbol of lust represented by the cerdo jabalí. Covarrubias defines marrano as those Jews who converted to Christianity and asked to be excused from eating pork products, as their stomachs were not yet accustomed: "It is the recently converted Christian, and we have a negative opinion of him for having falsely converted. When the Jews who stayed in Castile converted, one of the conditions that they requested was that they not be forced to eat pork, which they insisted was not because they were following the law of Moses but only because they were not yet accustomed and it nauseated them" (791). Aware of the association between marrano and Jew in a society preoccupied with racial and ethnic purity, Isabel indirectly insults the ecclesiastical hierarchy when she puts its misogynist discourse into the mouth of a demonic marranaço.

3

Frequently when Isabel writes, the enemy appears to bother her with noise and smoke caused by tobacco paper. The nun makes a direct connection between tobacco, men, and the Devil: they are all working together against her to impede her writing. Isabel de Jesús, aware of the denial of full membership into the male world of smoking and writing, claims the right to literary activity as she attacks the antiwriting efforts of men as demonic. This critique is consistently developed throughout her narrative. Chapter 43 of Book V begins with the admission that the author is aware that she is writing a criticism of Church officials. Subsequently, when Isabel gives the pen to Christ so He may write through her, she uses the only member of the male Church hierarchy whom she can guarantee will support her work. After accusing prelates and confessors of being more concerned about themselves than the obligations of their position, the text proceeds to describe a scene in which monkeys appear to mock Isabel's writing. Vi con los ojos del cuerpo, como vi lo demás, que estava un mono haziendo mucho gestos, y ademanes con las manos, y con los ojos, y otro estava escriviendo . . . . Mi alma se afligió mucho, como conoció lo que allí estava escriviendo; y me dixo desde

Page 93 donde estava: Vesme, también sé yo escrivir, y también me lo mandan a mi como a ti. (605) I saw with my own eyes, as I saw the rest, that there was a monkey making signs and gestures with his hands and eyes while another was writing . . . . My soul was deeply distressed as it recognized what was being written. He said to me from where he was: "Look at me, I also know how to write and they also order me to write like they do you." Although this passage may explicitly connect Isabel to the demonic monkeys, there is an implied negative association between ecclesiastics and monkeys, evident in the narrative development from priests to monkeys. This priest-monkey connection is repeated on other occasions. Again after a description of a deformed priest in a strange scene, a monkey appears. This time the text puts criticism against the priest in the voice of Isabel's santo angel, as he reassures the nun that her writing is necessary. No dexes de escrivir todo lo que te ha sido mostrado, y lo que te dixere aora. Ese alma que viste en esa obscuridad, es un alma de un Sacerdote, que es muy inclinado a sus conveniencias, y por eso está como le viste . . . . [L]e dixe: Señor, y Dios mío, no me has dicho en otra ocasión, que los Confesores lo han de saber todo, y lo han de juzgar todo? vengo en esto, mas también dizes, que ellos no han de ser juzgados de nadie, cómo quieres, Señor, que yo juzgue este alma, y manifieste sus engaños . . . . A esto me dixo: Mira, este alma no haze lo que Dios dize . . . . También te dixe en otra ocasión, por mandato de nuestro Dios, y Señor, que las criaturas son instrumentos de los divinos intentos . . . . No dexes de escrivir esto, y dalo a tu Confesor, que Dios le dictará lo que has de hazer. (425-26) Do not fail to write everything that has been revealed to you and what I am about to say to you now. The soul that you saw in the dark was that of a priest who is quite inclined to serve his own interests and that is why he appeared the way you saw him . . . . I said to him, "My Lord and Father, have you not told me on another occasion that confessors ought to know everything and ought to judge all? I agree with this, but you also say that they ought not to be judged by anybody, so how do you expect me to judge this soul and reveal his deceits." . . . To this he said to me, "Look, this soul does not do what God commands . . . . I also told you on another occasion by order of our Lord and Father that all creatures are instruments of the divine plan . . . . [D]o not fail to

Page 94 write this and give it to your confessor, as God will dictate to him what you must do."

4

The text creates a dialogue that avoids taking direct responsibility for the clerical criticism explicit in its discourse. Refraining from personal judgments, the humble nun innocently describes a vision of a deformed priest. The subsequent dialogue between Isabel and her santo angel reveals an explanation and criticism of the priest described earlier. The dialogue also presents the hesitant author as one who resists the job of holy critic. The angel, nonetheless, clearly commands Isabel to speak out against the guilty priest, as she is an instrument of a divine plan. When Isabel repeats the word juzgar (to judge) when questioning the mandate of the messenger of God, she actually questions the patriarchal belief that clergy know all and are not to be judged but are alone allowed to do the judging. This subversive challenge to the male power structure is played out in the form of holy visions that must ultimately be approved by the same system they question. At times the interrelation between chapters, visions, and references reveals the organized continuity of groups of chapters with a preplanned message, evident only by analyzing this development and intertexuality. Chapters 55 through 58 of Book III create a chain of images that build a critical exposition of religious activity while also disclosing insightful information about the author. Isabel begins by describing a scene of "ferocious animals that were all roaring like bulls" that were not only attacking a group of innocent sheep but were also biting each other. When an old man appeared to protect the sheep, Isabel was comforted, as she sympathized with the innocent animals: "como si yo huviera sido una de ellas, así me parecia estava yo también libre, y amparada con ellas" (327) (as if I were one of them, so it seemed to me as I was also free and saved with them). In the same chapter, the text shifts to a different vision in a church with "muchos varones, y todos estavan mirándose unos a otros, como que querian disponer, o determinar alguna cosa" (328) (many men and all of them were staring at each other as if they wanted to order or decide something). The narrative makes a distinction between two types of men present: most of these men looked very sad, but a few had "gran claridad en sus ojos" (great clarity in their eyes). When the same ferocious animals reentered the scene with a multitude of bees, noise, and smoke, Isabel is careful to explain that these are the same animals from the previous vision. In the next chapter, the Devil makes fun of Isabel and tries to talk

Page 95 her into quitting her confessor "y te quitarás de la molestia de escrivir" (330) (and you will be relieved of the nuisance of writing). Again an "animal ferocísimo . . . [que] echava por los ojos fuego, y espumajos por la boca" (331) (a ferocious animal . . . [that] spewed fire from his eyes and foamed at the mouth) presents itself to torture Isabel. At this point in the chapter, Santa Leocadia appears and explains the previous visions to her. The saint describes an election in which God was not pleased with the ambition, greed, and pride displayed by the men. The animals were the seven mortal sins and the "negociantes que estos traian para su pretensión" (332) (dealers who were brought for this purpose). The men with "great clarity in their eyes" were those who were not accomplices in the election. According to the saint, God separates good men from the bad, just as he will do on Judgment Day. Santa Leocadia explains that this scene was presented to Isabel so she would pray for the sinners, that they might know their crimes before they died. Likewise, Isabel was required to communicate to others the nature of this vision and other favors that God bestowed on her. In the following chapter, the Devil tries to tempt Isabel from telling her confessor what God manifested to her soul: ''No hables, no hables . . . luego lo entendi por esto mismo, que no diera cuenta, ni dixera nada a mi Confesor" (335) (''Do not speak, do not speak" . . . later I understood this to mean that I should not inform or say anything to my confessor). The text justifies the act of communication and implies that silence is the work of the Devil. When Isabel summons her confessor to tell him of her visions, she describes to him an auto de fe that she had seen as a young child, claiming that there was a connection between the previous visions and the auto de fe. The fact that Isabel chooses to interpret her visions using a memory of an Inquisitional procession from her youth shows not only the impact these spectacles had on her but also the way in which the writer copes with these circumstances. However, instead of explaining the direct relation between her visions and the event, she ambiguously states, "No puedo pasar de aquí, pues es más para meditado, que para platicado . . . . O Señor, si yo pudiera, y tuviera licencia para pasar adelante!" (335-36) (I cannot continue as it would be better to consider this in meditation than in conversation . . . . Oh Lord, if only I could or had permission to continue!). Nonetheless, the link continues into the next chapter as it begins with "Dixe en el quaderno antecedente . . ." (337) (I said in the last notebook . . .). In this chapter, the nun develops a sermonesque speech directed at a nameless orador (preacher) about the importance of prayer,

Page 96 the "hidden treasure." As she criticizes this anonymous preacher, Isabel defends the insight of the uneducated: "Quién piensas que ha enseñado a muchos ignorantes? y es lástima llamarlos ignorantes, pues han sabido muchas vezes responder, y concluir a muchos llenos (al parecer del mundo) de letras" (339) (Who do you think has taught many ignorant people? And it is a shame to call them ignorant because many times they have known how to reply and respond to those fully literate [at least in the world's opinion] individuals). At this point, Isabel retreats from the offensive and denies authorship of what was just written. Because God writes through her, Isabel claims to not understand what she writes. However, the text just declared that many uneducated believers have more answers than the learned preachers, and thus seems to negate the false humility statements. What, then, seems to be the relation among these scenes? In the first vision, a group of innocent sheep is attacked by ferocious animals, which we later learn are sinful men participating in Church elections. The text emphasizes the separation of good men from bad and Isabel's role as mediator and communicator. The fact that the Devil tries to silence her is significant, as religious men are presented as demonic figures in all these scenes. In the first scene, Isabel sees herself as a victim of these men. In the second vision, she is given the right to intercede on behalf of the real sinners, and she is required to speak the word of God. By the final speech directed at an anonymous preacher, who Isabel felt lacked the spirituality one achieves in deep prayer, the author assumes the confident role of judge, not victim. Empowered by the use of visions and subsequent interpretations by God's spokespersons (saints and angels), Isabel is transformed from an unprotected sheep into a nun with the right to speak out against injustices.

5 Because of the misogynist system she criticizes in her work, Isabel knows she must finish the accusatory discourse with a false humility that negates authorship. Again she uses various narrative strategies to express her ideas and then protect her work. The descriptions found in the cluster of visions and memories in chapters 55 through 58 of Book III reveal the hypocritical and judgmental men in positions of strength and power (animals, men in elections, supporters of execution in an auto de fe, the preacher in Isabel's speech). All these images emphasize an objection to the silencing of women by these diabolic males by confirming her right to speak and participate in the holy process.

Page 97 Cynical "Repugnancia" According to the approbations at the beginning of the published work penned by Isabel, the patriarchal reaction to women writing religious doctrine was one of disgust. Fray Gabriel de San Joseph wrote, He visto el Tomo de la vida de la Madre Isabel de Jesús, . . . y confieso que entré en ello con grande repugnancia, . . . porque no me parecía bien que una mujer escriviese doctrina para lo público, quando hay tantos libros de hombres doctísimos. (emphasis mine) I have seen the volume of the life of Madre Isabel de Jesús, . . . and I confess that I entered into it with great disgust because it did not seem right that a woman write doctrine for the public when there are so many books by such learned men. The act of writing, an obvious resistance to established law excluding women from religious discourse, is labeled disgusting, perhaps demonic. Sloterdijk argues that the refusal to conform has been the base of what the dominant powers term diabolic. At the same time, it appears to those on top as something sinister and dirty, and the more hegemonic consciousness tries to withdraw to pure heights, the more subversively and demonically does the kynical refusal appear on its horizon. From then on, it must seem disgusting that this low, mere It stands up for itself and places an ego of its own sort against my own ego . . . . [T]he concept "devil" then can be applied to people who live among us but are "different" (heretics, magicians, homosexuals, Jews, clever women). (361-62; 365; emphasis mine) Because the dominant position assessed any "difference" as evil, the subversive discourse in Isabel's text is expressed through the voice of the Devil. For critique and rebellion are expected of this enemy of God. Likewise, Gabriel de San Joseph not only confesses his own resistance to women writing in the Church but also emphasizes the "repugnancia" or nausea felt by Isabel when she tried to write: "no por su dictamen, antes con repugnancia grande suya, por sólo obedecer al mandato de sus Confesores, escrivió este libro con sus revelaciones" (emphasis mine) (not by her own decision, but with great disgust, only out of obedience to the demands of her confessors, did she write this book with its revelations). The same assessment of Isabel's nausea and resistance to writing is expressed in the approbation written by Ignacio Calvo: "Por obediencia

Page 98 de su Confesor (aunque con harto trabajo, y repugnancia suya) escrivió su vida la Venerable Madre" (emphasis mine) (Out of obedience to her confessor [although with much suffering and disgust] the Venerable Mother wrote her life). Both priests draw attention to the fact that Isabel wrote only because she was required to do so by her confessor. Isabel herself uses the word repugnancia when discussing the command to write: "O mi Dios! si el hazer yo esto que me manda la obediencia es tu voluntad, facilita la mia si conviene; porque ya, Señor, sabes mi mal natural, y la repugnancia que tiene, y la oposición a esto de escrivir . . . . [E]s mucha la repugnancia en hazer esto; es mucha la persecución del enemigo quando me pongo a escrivir" (591, 610; emphasis mine) (Oh my God! If doing this which obedience commands me is your will, help my own will if you desire. Lord you know my sinful nature and the disgust that I feel and how I oppose having to write . . . . [I]t is so disgusting to complete this. The Devil's tortures are so great when I begin to write). Here she also implies that the act of writing is not as disgusting as the Devil's torments designed to prevent her from putting pen to paper. Isabel appears to concede to patriarchal society's restrictions on women mystic's access to theology by getting sick when she writes. By using the figure of the Devil as her literary antagonist, she associates the "antiwriting" effort with the demonic. In this confrontation with diabolic forces, Isabel shows her disgust toward misogynist ideology through her body. Moreover, the dialogue with the Devil allows her to express her cynical and subversive critique of male clergy. Esto me lo dezia el enemigo con harta viveza; no con palabras, mas con representaciones tan eficaces en el pensamiento, y en la voluntad, . . . y me dezia: Ya sabes que el tiempo que no comunicaste nada al Confesor, que vivias con paz en tu alma, y no tenias ese afán de escrivir; . . . dexa ese que tienes, que Dios es verdadero Maestro, y te enseñará . . . . Dezia yo: No será malo el probar a ver como va. (529) The Devil was telling me this so vividly. Not with words but with such effective representations in my thoughts and in my will . . . and he would say to me, "You know that the time that you did not speak at all to your confessor you lived with peace in your soul and you did not have this desire to write; . . . drop the one you have, as God is the true teacher and he will teach you" . . . I said, "It might not be bad to try and see how it goes."

Page 99 Isabel de Jesús reverses the usual assessment of clever women as "diabolical" when she draws consistent connections between the Devil and the official order on the grounds that both believed that she should not have access to public discourse in theology. Her most subversive attack comes from the association of the demonic figure with patriarchal society. The evil, disgusting Devil is no longer the symbol of smart, independent women with something to say but rather of the men who try to suppress this right. When Isabel writes, "y que la pluma, y el papel sean como un espejo" (may pen and paper be like a mirror), we wonder if she is looking at her own reflection as she writes her autobiography or if she is holding the mirror to the patriarchal system to reflect back the "repugnancia" central to its own rhetoric.

6

Isabel de Jesús' narrative can be seen as a series of strategies manipulated to avoid various forms of control and domination. As we have seen, demons and nausea are used in the metanarrative as tools of resistance. Resistance is the basis of Isabel's life narrative: overt opposition to the potentially dangerous act of writing and symbolic rejection through her body and nausea of the attempts by the "demons" to prevent her from writing. Isabel uses the prowriting argument with God's defense of her work to resist the misogynist mandate against women's access to public discourse in religion. She also presents a negative view of the prowriting argument through the confessors' insistence that she continue to write; thus she protests the control involved in forcing women to record their lives on paper for the purpose of Inquisitional examination. On the other side of the "double bind," the author resists the figure of the Devil implicitly associated with patriarchal society, to make her reader aware that the only way to break away from the silence imposed on women is through writing. The recurrent nausea, resulting from the patriarchal demons' attempts to silence her, is another way of physically and graphically rejecting the misogynist philosophy.

Page 101

Conclusion Isabel's Hidden Tradition Despite the survival of her 758-page autobiography, Isabel de Jesús' identity remains elusive in many ways. At times critics confuse her with other sixteenth-and seventeenth-century nuns named Isabel de Jesús. On other occasions she is accused of plagiarizing poetry or inventing incredible visions. Even though Isabel lived in an oppressive and misogynist society, three years after her death her autobiography was given the seal of approval necessary for its publication. More than twenty clergymen found no evidence of deviance from orthodox religious doctrine. Ironically, modern critics have not been so favorable. The few who have briefly mentioned Isabel's work either include errors that may confuse her with other nuns of the same name or continue to describe her with the kind of derogatory assessments typical of the Counter- Reformation. Descriptions such as unscrupulous, deluded, deceiving, lying, and so on, are still being used to depict many beatas who experienced ecstatic or supernatural spirituality. The negative label "fraud" has been attributed to those women accused or sentenced by the Inquisition. As far as we know, Isabel de Jesús had no altercations with the Holy Office. However, modern critics have accused her of lying about the authorship of a romance included in her poetic work. While Isabel claimed emphatically that the verses were from her own pen, her confessor tried to take responsibility by saying he included them because they were found among her writings. These statements most certainly must have attracted the attention of the censors; nonetheless, her romance was approved for publication. When modern critics accuse Sor Isabel of plagiarizing the romance in question from a 1603 manuscript (seven years before she was born), they do not provide any evidence to support the charge. Possibly even more challenging than the question of authorship is the examination of why someone would draw attention to such a deceit, or

Page 102 why the censors approved its inclusion in the published version. It is our responsibility to question why Isabel is still being accused of plagiarism when we do not have the "borrowed" document to compare the two versions. We must first consider the communal nature of the poetic tradition, its imitating and sharing of topics and motifs. If this "intertexuality" were truly dishonest, then many poets accepted into the canon could be accused of plagiarism. Moreover, we must not forget the corroborative process of producing confessional autobiographies in the convent. Within this process, the penitent nun works together with her confessor-interlocutor and other ecclesiastical officials in the creation of a final published product that reveals the authorized "truth." Likewise, the hybrid nature of the conventual autobiographic genre is often overlooked. These narratives were more than just diachronic recountings of the authors' life stories. So when critics such as Nelken describe Isabel's writings as repetitive, they fail to recognize the diverse character of many life narratives written by women religious. Isabel's autobiography is not only the story of her life but a daily journal that she wrote in notebooks, periodically handed in to her confessor, and never saw again. This continued for more than ten years. Isabel's narrative in fact offers great variety. She manages to weave into her life story daily activities, visions, expositions on prayer and meditation, political and theological considerations, poetry. Her autobiography comprises a "complete works" and diary. Literary nuns did not have complete freedom to write how and what they wanted. They were forced to work within certain parameters that controlled style and content. We must remember these oppressive conditions when examining the writing of the "deceiving nuns." More important, the allegations of any unorthodox behavior prove to be arbitrary. As we have seen, the line between sainthood and diabolic intervention or heresy is tenuous. The idea of deceit and lying, most often associated with supernatural occurrences and visions, may be reinterpreted as a possible strategy of resistance to an exclusionist, oppressive system. One way to gain access to the religious power structure was to claim divine intercession in a dramatic display of devotion. Labels such as witch, heretic, and hysteric were invented precisely to prevent these marginalized figures from gaining power in the Church and in society in general. Despite the dangers, many women learned to use the traditional Church rhetoric to express resistance to the misogynist system. Teresa de Cartagena, in the fifteenth century, is one early example. She brilliantly defended herself against accusations of plagiarism by claiming that God

Page 103 must have written through her, as women are not capable of writing with such insight. Thus an attack against her writing was an attack against the word of God. Santa Teresa de Avila continued this tradition of humble empowerment in the Carmelite order. From a historic perspective, the publication of Isabel de Jesús' narrative provides an example of how the Teresian tradition developed from the sixteenth century to the end of the seventeenth. Isabel's death marks the one hundredth anniversary of the death of Santa Teresa, and not surprisingly, Teresa's legacy is a recurrent topic in the approbations attached to Isabel's text. The double bind (having to prove worthiness and humility) confronted by women religious writers is reflected in the clergy's letters. These male authorities were still trying to reconcile the contradiction between the traditional Church mandate requiring silence for religious women and the privileged status of Santa Teresa. Their decision was based on a distinction between writing and preaching and on an "exception to the rule" clause. The approbations reflect the priests' fear of the large number of women who were encouraged by their mentor Teresa to claim a voice through visions, miracles, and writing. One reason why these women were allowed, even required, to write is based on the idea that written discourse, when closely monitored, can be used to maintain control over the individual. Isabel describes the command by her confessors to write as another mechanism of control. These written documents served as physical evidence that could be examined at any time by a number of Church officials. This fear and the realization that by writing she would be violating the established prohibition of women claiming a public voice in theology engender Isabel's metanarrative. A discussion of the act of writing provided Isabel with the opportunity to humbly resist literary activity by expressing an aversion for writing, since she got sick when she put pen to paper. However, these statements are easily subverted in her use of the Devil and nausea during the discussions of her writing. Isabel's deliberate use of the figure of the Devil in her metanarrative serves numerous functions. First, his appearance when Isabel writes serves to confirm the holiness of her work and assures its continuation, since the Devil's intrusion validates the pious nature of her activity. If Isabel were to stop writing, she would obey the enemy of Christ. Second, because the Devil uses so many cruel and violent tactics to prevent Isabel from writing, her suffering provides required material for saintliness. The more Isabel suffers for the word of God, the more pious she appears. Third, considering that the goal of the Devil is to prevent Isabel from

Page 104 writing, her text is able to associate the "antiwriting campaign" with the demonic. This connection between the Devil and misogynist policies provides a strong attack against the arguments in the approbations claiming that women are excluded from teaching God's word. Just as the antiwriting sentiment is associated with the Devil, the male figure in general is connected to the demonic. Centuries of religious, legal, psychological, and medical philosophy attributing evil and demonic traits to the female sex are reversed in Isabel's work. Here men are depicted as the demons. Moreover, the figure of the Devil provides Isabel with the perfect spokesperson for her own criticisms of the religious-legal system. As the Devil is expected to attack any servant of God, Isabel is free to communicate subversive or cynical statements through the voice of the Devil. Similar to the multifunctional figure of the Devil, nausea in Isabel's autobiography fulfills many purposes. Because Isabel becomes sick when she has to write, her nausea is associated with a fear of the written word. This anxiety is based on the possible negative evaluations of her literary work. The fear of punishment as a result of her writings is constant in her narrative. Nonetheless, her nausea may also be manipulated to reflect the humility expected of a holy nun trying to avoid public recognition in the Church. Isabel herself appropriates the rhetoric used in the approbations. She claims "repugnance" toward the command to write. Likewise, one priest confessed to initially feeling the same disgust when he considered a woman writing religious doctrine. The subversive nature of Isabel's text becomes apparent when we see that her nausea may be interpreted as a graphic and symbolic rejection of the Devil's attempt to silence her. Isabel insists that the Devil is so disgusting that he causes her to vomit. Thus, the initial confession of repugnancia evident in the patriarchal rhetoric seems to be reversed by Isabel and used against the dominant order. In conclusion, it seems appropriate that we return to the title of Isabel's narrative: "Treasure of Mount Carmel, Hidden in the Church, Found and Discovered after the Death of the Author . . ." (emphasis mine). Even the title chosen by Isabel's confessor for her vida reflects the double bind of having to prove holiness and humility at the same time. Her life was a treasure worth publishing because it did not demand public recognition but rather was appropriately hidden. Only after death were Isabel's writings allowed to enter the public sphere. Isabel de Jesús is part of a long tradition of women writers whose works have been excluded from serious literary or cultural studies. Not surprisingly, Arenal and Schlau also describe the new direction in schol-

Page 105 arship in terms of searching for what is concealed: "to excavate what has been hidden for so long" (Untold 411). Our challenge for the future in Golden Age studies is not only to discover these forgotten treasures but also to look beyond the surface and search for the hidden clues within the texts to help us recover the "hidden tradition" of women writers in Spain trying to survive behind the visible male canon. Questioning of the historically and culturally constructed canon must also include an investigation of the literary establishment. Critics have not only ignored many valuable writers but have also accused others of being impostors and of writing inferior works. The study of Isabel de Jesús' narrative proves significant because it challenges the typical assessments of early modern women's writings, such as "naïve" (Bourland 331; Serrano y Sanz 556) and "monotonous" (Nelken 70). Unlike other narratives by religious women, Isabel's text provides an original example of how the Devil, nausea, and writing can be used together to ultimately defy the male establishment. Her text should serve as an invitation to further explorations for tesoros escondidos.

Page 107

Notes Preface 1. Other feminist critics have described this narrative strategy as ''double-voiced discourse.'' See Showalter 266 and Myers, Word, 34. 2. I will use the term "metanarrative" to signify a narrative that refers to itself and to its own narrative techniques. Introduction 1. We know from Manuel Serrano y Sanz's Apuntes para una biblioteca de escritoras españolas that there were at least four nuns who called themselves Sor Isabel de Jesús and who also wrote during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in Spain (556-560). The first Isabel de Jesús listed in Serrano y Sanz's bibliography was a "Discalced Carmelite and companion of Santa Teresa on some of her journeys" (556). The next listing is the Isabel de Jesús of our study. Her father was Blas Diez de Ortega from Mocejón de la Sagra, and her mother was Elena de Sosa y Villaquirán, from Toledo. Serrano y Sanz also mentions another Isabel de Jesús, a Carmelite from Toledo who died in 1619 (559). The last entry of nuns named Isabel de Jesús in Serrano y Sanz's catalog of Spanish women writers is the Isabel de Jesús (1586- 1648) included in Electa Arenal and Stacey Schlau's Untold Sisters: Hispanic Nuns in Their Own Works; their article, "'Leyendo yo y escribiendo ella': The Convent as Intellectual Community"; Arenal's article, "The Convent as Catalyst for Autonomy: Two Hispanic Nuns of the Seventeenth Century"; Sonja Herpoel's article, "Los auditorios de Isabel de Jesús"; and a recent study featuring Isabel de Jesús by Ruth El Saffar entitled Rapture Encaged: The Suppression of the Feminine in Western Culture. In this work El Saffar also refers to Isabel de Jesús as Isabel de la Cruz. The recent discovery of this Augustinian nun and the fact that there was more than one Isabel de Jesús living at the same time have caused confusion. Current

Page 108 anthologies of early modern Spanish women poets such as those edited by Clara Janés and Ana Navarro have either confused the Carmelite nun with the Augustinian nun or included inaccurate biographical information, such as the year Isabel died, as well as other misleading details from Isabel's childhood. A different Isabel de Jesús is mentioned in Richard Kagan's study on Lucrecia de León. Kagan makes a brief reference to her in a footnote as a "Dominican nun in Huete who claimed to have stigmata and who prophesied about events related to 'the war with England"' (201). (Kagan refers to Archivo Histórico Nacional document Inq. 496/1.) This Isabel de Jesús was investigated by the Inquisition in 1590. José Simón Díaz includes two nuns named Isabel de Jesús in his Bibliografia de la literature hispánica: the nun of this study and the Augustinian included in Arenal and Schlau's work. Chapter 1. Writing a Nun's Life 1. Tesoro del Carmelo, escondido en el campo de la Iglesia, hallado, y descubierto en la muerte, y vida que de si dexó escrita, por orden de su Confessor, la venerable Madre Isabel de Jess, . . . Sacale a luz su Confesor el R. P. Fr. Manuel de Paredes . . . (Madrid: Julian de Paredes, 1685; Biblioteca Nacional MS 3-55.495) (Treasure of Mount Carmel, Hidden in the Church, Found and Discovered after the Death of the Author and Her Autobiography that She Left Behind Out of Obedience to Her Confessor, the Venerable Mother Isabel de Jess, . . . . Published by Her Confessor Father Manuel de Paredes). All translations of this text are mine. References to this work are made parenthetically in the text. Isabel de Jesús' autobiography is also included in the microfiche collection of Spanish Women Writers (1500-1900), ed. Maria del Carmen Simón Palmer (Madrid: Chadwyck-Healey, 1992). In citing Isabel de Jesús' writings I have tried to maintain the original orthography as much as possible. However, I have modernized accentuation, resolved abbreviations, and simplified the double consonant "ss" to the modern single form. Quotations from all sources in Spanish other than Isabel's work are given in English. 2. At the beginning of the twentieth century, Serrano y Sanz wrote, "It is difficult to ascertain if this saintly woman was just deluded or also a fraud" (557). These negative comments have continued throughout this century. In 1930, Nelken described Isabel de Jesús as desaprensiva (unscrupulous) (70). Likewise, in a recent anthology of sixteenth-and seven-

Page 109 teenth-century Spanish women poets, Isabel was presented as a monja ilusa (deluded nun) (Navarro 245). 3. When discussing gender and the confessional nature of autobiography, Gilmore also argues that the confessor and penitent are "enjoined in a mutually productive performance of truth telling" (112). For confessional autobiography in Spain see Rosenberg. 4. Kathleen A. Myers also notes how the common early modern practice of imitation and copying has been interpreted by the modern reader as plagiarism (Word 28). 5. Just as Serrano y Sanz had noted Isabel's imitation of San Juan's poetry, Nelken, in Las escritoras españolas, accuses Sor Isabel of "brazenly" imitating San Juan's poetic style (71). 6. Kate Greenspan, "A Genre of Their Own: The Autohagiographies of Medieval Women Mystics," presented at the annual meeting of the Modern Language Association, 28 December, 1990. 7. The role of Isabel's mother in the early years was fundamental. By the time she was four years old, Isabel remembers going to the hospital with her to work. She describes the time spent with her mother as having a great impact on her, as she would imitate her by creating hospital scenes while playing. 8. Mary Elizabeth Perry notes that by 1620 in Seville the average dowry for a young woman to become a nun was one thousand ducats (Gender 91). 9. Isabel is not alone in her association of nausea and marriage. In a cynical exposition of the nauseous nature of matrimony, Saint Jerome's answer to a widow seeking his advice about remarriage is very clear. The trials of marriage you have learned in the married state: you have been surfeited to nausea as though with the flesh of quails. Your mouth has tasted the bitterest of gall, you have voided the sour unwholesome food, you have relieved a heaving stomach. Why would you put into it again something which has already proved harmful to you. The dog is turned to his own vomit again and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire (quoted in Armstrong [67]; emphasis mine). 10. Myers also notes that the most rebellious aspect of many life narratives by women religious is found in the complex relationship between the nun and her confessor: "If there exists a subversive element in these Vidas, as in the case of Teresa of Avila and Madre Maria de San José, it usually derives from manipulations of the confessor's and nun's relationship and their respective relationship with God" ("Miraba" 168-69). 11. The image of a tesoro escondido is also found in Santa Teresa's Interior Castle (Swietlicki 286). The saint's text describes one of the "man-

Page 110 sions" of mystic prayer as a search for the "hidden treasure" at the soul's center: "may He also show us the road and give strength to our souls so that we may dig until we find this hidden treasure, since it is quite true that we have it within ourselves" (97). Likewise, Isabel claims, ''Es la oración tesoro escondido" (339) (Prayer is a hidden treasure). Chapter 2. The Devil, Nausea, and "Monjas Embaucadoras" 1. For Santa Teresa's theory on convent melancholy, see Weber's Teresa of Avila and the Rhetoric of Femininity, 139-46. See also Catherine Swietlicki's article, "Writing 'Femystic' Space: In the Margins of Saint Teresa's Castillo Interior," Journal of Hispanic Philology 13 (1989): 273-93. 2. Likewise, Malleus Maleficarum, the 1486 handbook on witchcraft by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, not only makes the noun witch in the title feminine (maleficarum, not maleficorum) but also deconstructs the term femina into fe minus, or a lack of faith (44, Bridenthal 129; Dresen-Coenders 59). 3. Mary Elizabeth Perry distinguishes beatas from nuns in that the former were laywomen or tertiaries. They could wear religious habits but did not necessarily belong to any particular religious order. All beatas made a private vow of chastity but were not forced to live a cloistered life ("Beatas" 150). 4. Although the original arrests of the alumbrados (Illuminists) in Toledo in the mid-sixteenth century were based on accusations of Lutheranism, Erasmianism, or reformist ideas, by the seventeenth century "alumbrado" meant any religious impostor (Hamilton). Toledo had been the center afalumbrado investigations in the sixteenth century, Isabel de la Cruz and Maria de Cazalla being the most well known examples. By the time Isabel de Jesús was a young adult in Toledo, the concentration of alumbrado prosecutions had already moved to Llerena in the late sixteenth century and then to Seville in the early seventeenth century, with the highly publicized case of Catalina de Jesús in 1627. Perry emphasizes the growing uneasiness over the independent beatas' power in the seventeenth century in Seville. "The Holy Office in Seville prosecuted only one beata before 1609, but several in the first two decades of the seventeenth century. The trials of these women represent an official attempt to curb popular religious leaders" ("Beatas" 148). 5. Maria de Santo Domingo (the Beata of Piedrahita) was also protected against charges of fraud and sexual misconduct because of her reciprocally supportive relationship with a few powerful patrons such as the Duke of Alba, Ferdinand of Aragon, and Cardinal Cisneros (Bilinkoff).

Page 111 6. In the sixteenth century, Pedro Sánchez Ciruelo separated sorcery from witchcraft on the basis that the former comes under secular law, thus denying its heretical nature (see Robbins [475]). Using Kramer and Sprenger's theory of the heresy of witchcraft in Malleus Maleficarum, Robbins notes the difference between sorcery and witchcraft. Sorcery is an attempt to control nature, to produce good or evil results, generally by the aid of evil spirits. On the other hand, witchcraft embraces sorcery, but goes far beyond it, for the witch contracts with the Devil to work magic for the purpose of denying, repudiating, and scorning the Christian God. The crimes both sorcerer and witch are supposed to committhat is, the whole range of maleficiaappear to be alike, but the motives are distinct. This is the basis on which the Inquisition built up the theory of witchcraft as a heresya conscious rejection of God and the Church; witchcraft became not a question of deeds . . . but a question of ideas. Witchcraft took its place among crimes of conscience. (471) 7. The reason that women were more "susceptible" to witchcraft than men was explained by Sprenger and Kramer in 1486: "Just as through the first defect in their intelligence they are more prone to abjure the faith; so through their second defect of inordinate affections and passions they search for, brood over, and inflict various vengeances, either by witchcraft or by some other means. Wherefore it is no wonder that so great a number of witches exist in this sex" (45). See also Bridenthal and Koonz, Ruether, and Dresen-Coenders for discussions on why there were so many witches and so few warlocks. 8. Other women accused of witchcraft or sorcery in Toledo during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are too numerous to list here. According to the Catálogo de la Inquisición de Toledo of the Archivo Histórico Nacional there were more than 135 women accused of sorcery in the seventeenth century in Toledo (81-103). 9. See Darst and Robbins (145-47) for a list of European writings on demonology between 1435 and 1550. 10. See also Ebon, Grillot de Grivry, Hasbrouck, Homza, Levack, Nauman, Rodewyk, Walker and Wilson (223-47). 11. See Mariño Ferro, Satán, sus siervas, las brujas y la religión del mal (Madrid: Edicións Xerais de Galicia, 1984). Mariño Ferro catalogs various elements associated with the Devil and his servants during the early modern period. 12. Throwing up blood or bleeding through the nose is also present in other early modern narratives by women writers. Demons accosted Sor

Page 112 María de Santo Domingo so frequently that she bled from her nose, ears, and mouth (Giles 32). This bodily sensation seems to have continued from the medieval tradition of women writers. Bynum notes that ecstatic nosebleeds were more common among women than men in the Middle Ages (Fragmentation 186). 13. The role of vomiting in three stages of the possession-exorcism process is summarized in the seventeenth-century edition of Valerio Polidori's treatise on exorcism. Polidori explains how vomiting can initially indicate demonic possession and later be used as a cure to exorcise the demon. Likewise, the document describes how the appearance of a flame of fire, icy wind, or foreign objects such as bristles, worms, ants, frogs, or mice issuing from the mouth of the possessed proves to be one of the principal ways to show that the demoniac has been released from possession (Lea, Materials 1057- 1060). 14. See Ebon 89, Hasbrouck 119; and Weber, "Between" 233. 15. Like demonic possession, melancholy was an illness that affected the abdominal area. It was believed that black bile accumulated in the abdomen and emitted toxins that traveled to the brain. These toxic vapors were considered contagious as they could issue through the patient's mouth (Delumeau 172). 16. Gougenot Des Mousseaux discusses the difference between possession and obsession in Exorcism Through the Ages: "The obsessed are those in whom the devil does not dwell, but whom he assails externally. The possessed are those in whose inner being he appears to settle and dwell" (Nauman 87). 17. The concepts of the Devil, emesis or vomiting, and hysteria have been linked for centuries. The notion of possession, usually deriving from symptoms such as convulsions, hysteria and vomiting, was once almost universally accepted . . . . From the descriptions which survive, there can be no doubt that the possessed of former days were epileptics, hysterics and sufferers from the other nervous and mental disorders now given over to psychiatric care. (Newall 81) Ilza Veith describes the association of hysteria, nausea, and women beginning with the Greco-Roman period. She argues that in Greek literature hysteria primarily occurs in "mature women who were deprived of sexual relation . . . . [T]he patient feels anxiety and oppression and begins to vomit" (Veith 10). Similar to the dual role vomiting plays in demonic possession and exorcism (present as both symptom and cure), emesis was also believed to alleviate chronic hysteria. One of the many Greco-Roman cures was the practice of inducing vomiting by feeding radishes to the patients.

Page 113 18. In his essay "A Seventeenth-Century Demonological Neurosis," Freud explains that the manifestations of hysteria have been preserved in the depictions of possession and ecstasy in medieval iconography. He continues that the demons represent forbidden desires, "derivatives of instinctual impulses that have been repudiated and repressed" (quoted in Szasz [74]). In an argument similar to Foucault's in Madness and Civilization, Szasz asserts that the construction of witchcraft was used as a scapegoat to punish deviant or subversive behavior before the eighteenth century, just as madness was used later for the same purpose. As witches were mostly women, we cannot forget the implicit theme of gender in the discussion of repression, power, and control in seventeenth-century Spain. Sidonie Smith notes that most women accused of witchcraft were not under direct domination by any man and were therefore considered dangerously independent: "the figure of all that is unrepressed." She argues, "They were predominantly women unattached to men and therefore not in a state of appropriate subordinationthe unmarried, the widow, and the religious heretic whose false doctrine was not appropriately subordinated to official church doctrine" (37). The similarities in the characteristics of behavior and the categories of persons accused of witchcraft and, later, hysteria prove the arbitrary assignment of the "problem." However, this repetition in history also shows how marginalized individuals find a way to make themselves visible and express resistance to a system that tries to exclude anything different from its own definitions. 19. Freud also makes a connection between his theories on hysteria and traditional ideas regarding demonology: "By pronouncing possession by a demon to be the cause of hysterical phenomena, the Middle Ages in fact chose this solution; it would only have been a matter of exchanging the religious terminology of that dark and superstitious age for the scientific language of today" (quoted in Szasz [73]). Thomas S. Szasz observes that one need only make a semantic revision of the previous devil-based theories to arrive at Freud's theories on hysteria. Freud admits this in a letter to Fliess: "What would you say, . . . if I told you that the whole of my brand-new primal theory of hysteria was well-known and had been published a hundred times over-several centuries ago? Do you remember how I always said that the medieval theory of possession, held by the ecclesiastical courts, was identical with our theory of a foreign body and a splitting of consciousness?" (quoted in Szasz [74]). 20. Similar to Lisón Tolosana's theory of possession and exorcism as an opportunity for recognition, Martin Ebon suggests that diabolic involvement can become "a road to women's liberation, . . . compensation for a life of mediocrity" (73). Likewise, Ioan Lewis proposes in Ecstatic

Page 114 Religions that women use demonic possession to show their needs and demands "in the face of male constraint" (quoted in Ebon [73]). 21. See also Joan Jacobs Brumberg, Fasting Girls: The Emergence of Anorexia Nervosa as a Modern Disease (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988). Chapter 3. Iconographic Tradition and the Demonic Mouth 1. See Carmelo Lisón Tolosana, Demonios y exorcismos en los siglos de oro (Madrid: Akal, 1990). 2. See Edward J. Tejirian, Sexuality and the Devil: Symbols of Love, Power and Fear in Male Psychology (New York: Routledge, 1990), and Jeffery Burton Russell, Lucifer: The Devil in the Middle Ages (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1984). 3. Not surprisingly, the combination of theater and exorcism is also evident in Erasmus and Cervantes (Wilson 223-47). Other early modern texts similarly describe the exorcism ritual as a fraudulent religious performance used to attract tourists. See Walker and Wilson. 4. Bynum discusses the presence of swallowing and reguritation in medieval iconography of the resurrected body. Many of these images portray body parts vomited up from the mouths of animals during the general resurrection at the end of time (Bynum, Resurrection). Interestingly, Bynum uses the idea of digested and regurgitated fragments from the Byzantine Last Judgement "Hortus deliciarum" as a metaphor for the job of the historian: "Historians, like the fishes of the sea, regurgitate fragments" (Fragmentations 14). 5. In her discussion of English women's writing between 1649 and 1688, Elaine Hobby argues that these misogynist Bible passages were "quoted and discussed so frequently in mid seventeenth-century tracts that it seems likely that they were regularly thrust at women during Sunday sermons" (6). See also Armstrong, Harris, and Rodgers. 6. Weber concludes, "Magdalena's sentence reveals how tenuous the distinction between possession and witchcraft could be in the early modern period" ("Saint" 188). Chapter 4. The Dialectics of Resistance 1. See Carroll B. Johnson, Inside Guzmán de Alfarache (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1978). 2. Santa Teresa's Vida follows a diachronic autobiographical narration throughout her life story except in Chapters X-XXII when she dis-

Page 115 cusses her interpretation of the different stages of mystic prayer. For a concise division of chapters, years, and content, see Velasco Kindalán. 3. Jean Franco also notes the constant denial of authorship in seventeenth-century conventual writing in Mexico. "It was only by disappearing as authors and becoming mediums for the voice of God (or targets of the devil) that those women were able to speak of their experiences at all" (15). See also Arenal and Schlau and Weber. 4. Perhaps the greatest joy in writing is revealed in the text through poetic creation. When Isabel talks about writing poetry, she cannot disguise the pleasure and positive rewards she experiences. Once when recovering from an illness, she was temporarily released from her duty to write. According to her narrative, she was initially relieved. But when she was afflicted with mental torments in prayer, she decided to write poetry to comfort herself. Later when she includes the actual poetry she wrote, the confidence and pride in her verses are expressed directly in a manner not characteristic of her narrative. When discussing the value of her poetry, Isabel explicitly comments on the high quality of her poetic work and boldly claims authorship of her poems instead of attributing them to the work of God. 5. Arenal and Schlau also include comments by other women religious writers of Spain during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries expressing ideas similar to those of Isabel de Jesús: "A great preacher had come to our village . . . . I was terribly sad through the whole sermon, seeing him so tepid . . . . [And I said,] 'If I could have preached I would have said it better"' (Ana de San Bartolomé, quoted in Untold [16]). 6. John Coakley argues that many medieval Dominican friars believed that holy women embodied a special charismatic and divine presence not available to men. Coakley describes a close and supportive relationship between various friars and tertiaries. Likewise, Jodi Bilinkoff argues that the relationships between female penitents and their biographers in early modern Avila were characterized by a process of reciprocal exchange: "Without the authority and authorization of male clerics these women would have been unable to record their lives, but if not for their exceptional female penitents these men would have lacked the literary means, the self-confidence, and the sense of mission that allowed them to assume the role of biographer" ("Confessors" 94). 7. Many other nuns were also placed in conflictive situations between two opposing confessors. The seventeenth-century nun Maria de Agreda was ordered by Father Francisco Andrés de la Torre to write a history of the Virgin's life. However, when he was away, a confessor from Maria's childhood took his place and commanded her to burn all her writings, as he disapproved of religious women writing. When Father de la Torre returned, he was furious and ordered her to rewrite the Historia from the

Page 116 beginning. Nonetheless, when this priest died, Maria, left without a supporter of her writings and afraid of the possible judgments of her work, burned the new draft (Kendrick 72-73). Luckily, Felipe IV still had a copy of the original version of Maria de Agreda's document. Lope de Vega's daughter, Marcela de San Félix, was not so lucky with her autobiography. Although we have much of Sor Marcela's poetry and plays, her life narrative must have been too incriminating for her famous father, as it was destroyed and no existing copy remains. See Electa Arenal and Georgina Sabat- Rivers, Literatura conventual femenina: Sor Marcela de San Félix, hija de Lope de Vega: Obra completa (Barcelona: PPU, 1988), Arenal and Schlau, Untold Sisters, Herpoël "Bajo," and Perry "Subversion." 8. The descriptions of demonic figures present in Isabel's narrative coincide with the traditional symbols in demonology. In his study, Satán, sus siervas las brujas y la religión del mal, Mariño Ferro describes the same elements included by Isabel in the previous passages as typical of sixteenth-and seventeenth-century texts: darkness, smoke, terrible noises, monkeys, flies and insects, black cats, glowing eyes, the color black, oil, and so on. 9. Arenal and Schlau conclude, "All worry about taking time from other duties in order to write" (14). Chapter 5. Disgust, Nausea, and Writing 1. See Mariño Ferro. 2. Mariño Ferro cites numerous passages from the Bible documenting the association between holiness and good fragrances. Likewise, the presence of Satan is characterized by a "great stench" as he leaves behind him "an infernal smell of sulfur and putrefaction" (74). 3. It might also be noted here that the Jews being forced to convert against their will may have used "nausea" as an expression of their disgust and resistance to an intolerant system, just as Isabel seems to be doing. 4. The association between the priest and the monkey contributes to the subversive nature of Isabel's visions. Like the figure of the bull, the monkey has traditionally symbolized evil and lust. Besides its known sexual nature, its ugly face and frightfully wrinkled skin make the monkey a satanic animal (Mariño Ferro 103). In Santiago Sebastian's edition of the Bestiario Toscano, the monkey is compared to those who sin of their own free will because they "imitate the Devil" (19). 5. For further discussion of women's visions as a path to power, see

Page 117 Elizabeth Petroff's Consolation of the Blessed (New York: Alta Gaia Society, 1979). 6. This subversive strategy is still used by women today to express criticism of a male-dominant system. In an interview with two contemporary feminist writers, Susan Faludi and Gloria Steinem discuss the narrative techniques of the former's book, Backlash, as strategies using the rhetoric of the system it proposes to attack. Faludi: In an odd way I was playing more by the boys' rulessaying, O.K., you men will listen to data and ''rational arguments" and statistics, and the body of evidence will convince you. Steinem: It's objective, third-person reporting, in which you don't put yourself in the story. It's not that one method is better than the otheryou choose the method that suits the subject. Susan's method was exactly right because it got credibility within the world it was attacking. This book reminds me of the woman detective who wired herself and won her sexual-harassment case. Those guys taught her how to wire herself, and she did, and she caught them. It's a sweet victory, to win using their methods. (Time, March 9, 1992, 57; italics mine)

Page 119

Bibliography Arenal, Electa. "The Convent as Catalyst for Autonomy: Two Hispanic Nuns of the Seventeenth Century." In Women in Hispanic Literature, ed. Beth Miller, 147-83. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1983. Arenal, Electa, and Georgina Sabat-Rivers. Literatura conventual femenina: Sor Marcela de San Felix, hija de Lope de Vega: Obra completa. Barcelona: PPU, 1988. Arenal, Electa, and Stacey Schlau. "'Leyendo yo y escribiendo ella': The Convent as Intellectual Community." Journal of Hispanic Philology XII, no. 3 (Spring 1989). . Untold Sisters: Hispanic Nuns in Their Own Works. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1989. Armstrong, Karen. The Gospel According to Woman: Christianity's Creation of the Sex War in the West. New York: Doubleday, 1987. Atienza, Juan G. Guía de la brujas en España. Barcelona: Editorial Ariel, 1986. Bell, Rudolph M. Holy Anorexia. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985. Bentley, James. A Calendar of Saints. New York: Facts on File, 1987. Bilinkoff, Jodi. "Confessors, Penitents, and the Construction of Identities in Early Modern Avila." In Culture and Identity in Early Modern Europe (1500-1800): Essays in Honor of Natalie Zemon Davis, ed. Barbara B. Diefendorf and Carla Hesse. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1993. 83-100. . "A Spanish Prophetess and Her Patrons: The Case of Maria de Santo Domingo." Sixteenth Century Journal XXIII, no. 1 (1992). Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Renate. Not of Woman Born: Representations of Caesarean Birth in Medieval and Renaissance Culture. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990. Bosing, Walter. Hieronymus Bosch. Berlin: Benedikt Taschen, 1991. Bourland, Caroline B. "Aspectos de la vida del hogar en el siglo XVII

Page 120 según las novelas de doña Mariana de Carvajal y Saavedra." In Homenaje a Menéndez Pidal v. II. Madrid: Hernando, 1925. 331- 68. Breuer, Josef, and Sigmund Freud. Studies on Hysteria. Ed. James Strachey. New York: Basic Books, 1957. Bridenthal, Renate, and Claudia Koonz, eds. Becoming Visible: Women in European History. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1977. Brumberg, Joan Jacobs. Fasting Girls: The Emergence of Anorexia Nervosa as a Modern Disease. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988. Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York and London: Routledge, 1990. Bynum, Caroline Walker. Fragmentation and Redemption: Essays on Gender and the Human Body in Medieval Religion. New York: Zone Books, 1992. . Holy Feast and Holy Fast. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1987. . The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity, 200-1336. New York: Columbia University Press, 1995. Camporesi, Piero. The Incorruptible Flesh: Bodily Mutation and Mortification in Religion and Folklore. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988. Caro Baroja, Julio. Las formas complejas de la vida religiosa. Madrid: Akal, 1978. . The World of Witches. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964. Catálogo de la Inquisición de Toledo. Archivó Hist6rico Nacional. Madrid: Revista de Archivos, 1903. Cavendish, Richard. A History of Magic. New York: Taplinger, 1977. Cirac Estopañán, Sebastián. Los procesos de hechicerias en la Inquisición de Castilla la Nueva (Tribunales de Toledo y Cuenca). Madrid: Instituto Jerónimo Zurita, 1942. Coakley, John. "Friars as Confidants of Holy Women in Medieval Dominican Hagiography." In Images of Sainthood in Medieval Europe, ed. Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski and Timea Szell, 222-246. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991. Covarrubias, Sebastián de. Tesoro de la lengua castellana o española. Ed. Martin de Riquer. Barcelona: Editorial Alta Fulla, 1989. Darst, David H. "Witchcraft in Spain: The Testimony of Martin de Castañega's Treatise on Superstition and Witchcraft (1529)." In Witchcraft, Magic and Demonology. Vol. 4. The Literature of Witchcraft. Ed. Brian P. Levack. New York: Garland, 1992. 244-68. Deleito y Piñuela, José. La vida religiosa española bajo el cuarto Felipe: Santos y pecadores. Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1952.

Page 121 Delumeau, Jean. Sin and Fear: The Emergence of a Western Guilt Culture 13th-18th Centuries. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1990. Diccionario de Autoridades. Reprint. Madrid: Editorial Gredos, 1963. Dresen-Coenders, Lène, ed. Saints and She-Devils: Images of Women in the 15th and 16th Centuries. London: Rubicon Press, 1987. Ebon, Martin. The Devil's Bride: Exorcism, Past and Present. New York: Harper and Row, 1974. El Saffar, Ruth Anthony. Rapture Encaged: The Suppression of the Feminine in Western Culture. New York and London: Routledge, 1994. Forcione, Alban K. Cervantes and the Humanist Vision: A Study of Four Exemplary Novels. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982. Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality. Vol. 1. An Introduction. Trans. Robert Hurley. New York: Random House, 1978. . Madness and Civilization. New York: Vintage Books, 1988. Fraenger, Wilhelm. Hieronymus Bosch. New York: Dorset Press, 1989. Franco, Jean. Plotting Women: Gender and Representation in Mexico. New York: Columbia University Press, 1989. Freud, Sigmund. Inhibition, Symptoms and Anxiety. Ed. James Strachey. New York: W. W. Norton, 1959. Galerstein, Carolyn L., ed. Women Writers of Spain: An Annotated Bio-Bibliographical Guide. New York: Greenwood Press, 1986. Gibbs, Nancy, and Jeanne McDowell. ''How to Revive a Revolution." Time, 9 March 1992, 56-57. Gilbert, Sandra M., and Susan Gubar. The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Imagination. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979. Giles, Mary C. The Book of Prayer of Sor Maria of Santo Domingo. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990. Gilmore, Leigh. Autobiographics: A Feminist Theory of Women's Self- Representation. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994. Gimeno Casalduero, Joaquin. "El Pastorcico de San Juan y el Pastorcillo de las Redondillas." Hispanic Review 47 (1979): 77-85. Greenspan, Kate. "A Genre of Their Own: The Autohagiographies of Medieval Women Mystics," Presented at the annual meeting of the Modern Language Association, 28 December, 1990. Grillot de Givry, Emile. Picture Museum of Sorcery, Magic and Alchemy. New Hyde Park: University Books, 1963. Hamilton, Alastair. Heresy and Mysticism in Sixteenth-Century Spain: The Alumbrados. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992. Harris, Kevin. Sex, Ideology and Religion: The Representation of Women in the Bible. New Jersey: Barnes and Noble Books, 1984. Hasbrouck, Michael D. "Posesión demoníaca, locura y exorcismo en el Quijote." Cervantes 12, no. 2 (1992): 117-26.

Page 122 Herpoel, Sonja. "Bajola amenaza de la inquisición: escritoras españolas en el Siglo de Oro." In España, Teatro, Mujeres. Estudios dedicados a Henk Oostendorp, ed. Marin Gosman and Hub Hermans. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1989. 123-31. . "Los auditorios de Isabel de Jesús." In Estudios sobre escritoras hispánicas en honor de Georgina Sabat Rivers, ed. Lou Charnon- Deutsch, Madrid: Castalia, 1992. 128-141. Hobby, Elaine. Virtue of Necessity: English Women's Writing 1649-88. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1992. Holweck, F. G. A Biographical Dictionary of the Saints. Detroit: Gale Research, 1969. Homza, Lu Ann. "To Annihilate Sorcery and Amend the Church: A New Interpretation of Pedro Ciruelo's Reprobación de las supersticiones y hechicerias." In Religion, Body, and Gender in Early Modern Spain, ed. Alain Saint-Saëns. San Francisco: Mellen Research University Press, 1991.46-64. Hroch, Miroslav, and Anna Skybová. Ecclesia Militans: The Inquisition. Dorset Press, 1990. Huarte de San Juan, Juan. Examen de ingenios para las ciencias. Ed. Guillermo Serés. Madrid: Cátedra, 1989. Imirizaldu, Jesús. Monjas y beatas embaucadoras. Madrid: Editora Nacional, 1977. Isabel de Jesús. Tesoro del Carmelo, escondido en el campo de la iglesia, hallado, y descubierto en la muerte, y vida que de si dexó escrita, . . Sacale a luz su Confesor el R.P.Fr. Manuel de Paredes. . . Madrid: Julian de Paredes, 1685. Biblioteca Nacional MS 3-55.495. Janés, Clara, ed. Las primeras poetisas en lengua castellana. Madrid: Editorial Ayuso, 1986. Johnson, Carroll B. Inside Guzmán de Alfarache. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1978. Kagan, Richard L. Lucrecia's Dreams: Politics and Prophecy in Sixteenth-Century Spain. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1990. Katzenellenbogen, Adolf. Allegories of the Virtues and Vice in Medieval Art. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1989. Keller, John E., and Richard P. Kinkade. Iconography in Medieval Spanish Literature. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1986. Kendrick, T. D. Mary of Agreda: The Life and Legend of a Spanish Nun. London: Routledge & Kegan, 1980. Kieckhefer, Richard. Magic in the Middle Ages. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991. King, Ursula. "Mysticism and Feminism or Why Look at Women Mystics?" In Teresa de Jesús and her World, ed. Margaret A. Rees, 7- 17. Leeds: Trinity and All Saints' College, 1981.

Page 123 Kors, Alan C., and Edward Peters. Witchcraft in Europe 1100-1700: A Documentary History. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992. Kramer, Heinrich, and James Sprenger. The Malleus Maleficarum. Trans. Montague Summers. New York: Dover, 1971. Lea, Henry Charles. Materials Toward a History of Witchcraft. New York: T. Yoseloff, 1957. . Religious History of Spain. New York: Burt Franklin, 1967. Levack, Brian P. ed. Possession and Exorcism. New York and London: Garland, 1992. Lewis, Ioan M. Ecstatic Religion: An Anthropological Study of Spirit Possession and Shamanism. Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1971. Lisón Tolosana, Carmelo. Demonios y exorcismos en los siglos de oro. Madrid: Akal, 1990. Luyster, Robert W. Hamlet and Man's Being: The Phenomenology of Nausea. New York: University Press of America, 1984. Mariño Ferro, Xosé Ramón. Satán, sus siervas, las brujas y la religión del mal. Madrid: Edicións Xerais de Galicia, 1984. Midelfort, H. C. Erik. "The Devil and the German People: Reflections on the Popularity of Demon Possession in Sixteenth-Century Germany." In Religion and Culture in the Renaissance and Reformation, ed. Steven Ozment, 99-119. Kirksville: Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1989. Miller, Beth. Women in Hispanic Literature: Icons and Fallen Idols. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1983. Myers, Kathleen A. "'Miraba las cosas que desia': Convent Writing Picaresque Tales, and the Relación autobiográfica by Ursula Suárez (1666-1749)." Romance Quarterly 40, no. 3 (1993): 156-72. . Word from New Spain: The Spiritual Autobiography of Madre Maria de San José (1656-1719). Liverpool, Liverpool University Press, 1993. Nauman, St. Elmo. Exorcism Through the Ages. New York: Philosophical Library, 1974. Navarro, Ana, ed. Antologia poética de escritoras de los siglos XVI y XVII. Madrid: Editorial Castalia, Instituto de la Mujer, 1989. Nelken, Margarita. Las escritoras españolas. Barcelona: Editorial Labor, 1930. Newall, Venetia. Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and Magic. New York: Dial Press, 1974. Ortega Costa, Milagros. Proceso de la Inquisición contra Maria de Cazalla. Madrid: Fundación Universitaria Española, 1978. Perry, Mary Elizabeth. "Beatas and the Inquisition in Early Modern Seville." In Inquisition and Society in Early Modern Europe, ed. Stephen Haliczer, 147-68. London: Croom Helm, 1987.

Page 124 . Gender and Disorder in Early Modern Seville. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990. . "Subversion and Seduction: Perceptions of the Body in Writings of Religious Women in Counter-Reformation Spain." In Religion, Body, and Gender in Early Modern Spain, ed. Alain Saint-Saëns. San Francisco: Mellen Research University Press, 1991. 67-78. Petroff, Elizabeth. Consolation of the Blessed. New York: Alta Gaia Society, 1979. . Medieval Women's Visionary Literature. New York: Oxford University Press, 1986. Pisa, Francisco de. Descripción de la imperial ciudad de Toledo ... 1605; reprint Madrid: Villena, 1974. Ripa, Cesare. Iconologie, ou, Explication nouvelle de plusieurs images. Paris: Mathieu Guillemot, 1644. Robbins, Rossell Hope. Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and Demonology. New York: Crown, 1959. Robertson, Elizabeth. "The Corporeality of Femal Sanctity in 'The Life of Saint Margaret."' In Images of Sainthood in Medieval Europe, ed. Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski and Timea Szell. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991. 268-87. Rodewyk, Adolf. Possessed by Satan: The Church's Teaching on the Devil, Possession, and Exorcism. Garden City: Doubleday, 1975. Rodgers, Katherine M. The Troublesome Helpmate: A History of Misogyny in Literature. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1966. Rosenberg, John R. The Circular Pilgrimage: An Anatomy of Confessional Autobiography in Spain. New York: Peter Lang, 1994. Ruether, Rosemary Radford, ed. Religion and Sexism: Images of Woman in the Jewish and Christian Traditions. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1974. Russell, Jeffery Burton. The Devil: Perceptions of Evil from Antiquity to Primitive Christianity. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1977. . Lucifer: The Devil in the Middle Ages. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1984. . The Prince of Darkness: Radical Evil and the Power of Good in History. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988. Sánchez Lora, José L. Mujeres, conventos, y formas de la religiosidad barroca. Madrid: Fundación Universitaria Española, 1988. Sartre, Jean-Paul. Nausea. Trans. Robert Baldick. New York: Penguin Books, 1987. Scarre, Geoffrey. Witchcraft and Magic in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth- Century Europe. Atlantic Highlands: Humanities Press International, 1990.

Page 125 Sebastián, Santiago. El Fisiólogo atribuido a San Epifanio seguido de El Bestiario Toscano. Madrid: Ediciones Tuero, 1986. Serrano y Sanz, Manuel. Apuntes para una biblioteca de escritoras españolas. 2 vols. 1905; reprint Madrid: Ediciones Atlas, 1975. Showalter, Elaine. "Feminist Criticism in the Wilderness." In The New Feminist Criticism, ed. Elaine Showalter, 243-70. New York: Pantheon Books, 1985. Simón Diaz, José. Bibliografia de la literatura hispánica. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1950-. Simón Palmer, Maria del Carmen, ed. Spanish Women Writers (1500- 1900). Madrid: Chadwyck-Healey, 1992 (Libro 22, 16 mf). Sloterdijk, Peter. Critique of Cynical Reason. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988. Smith, Sidonie. A Poetics of Women's Autobiography: Marginality and the Fictions of Self-Representation. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987. Smith, Paul Julian. The Body Hispanic: Gender and Sexuality in Spanish and Spanish American Literature. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989. Swietlicki, Catherine. "Writing 'Femystic' Space: In the Margins of Saint Teresa's Castillo Interior." Journal of Hispanic Philology 13 (1989): 273-93. Szasz, Thomas S. The Manufacture of Madness: A Comparative Study of the Inquisition and the Mental Health Movement. New York: Harper and Row, 1970. . The Myth of Mental Illness. New York: Hoeber-Harper, 1961. Tejirian, Edward J. Sexuality and the Devil: Symbols of Love, Power and Fear in Male Psychology. New York: Routledge, 1990. Teresa of Avila. Interior Castle. Trans. E. Allison Peers. New York: Doubleday, 1961. . The Life of Teresa of Jesus. Trans. E. Allison Peers. New York: Doubleday, 1960. . Obras Completas. Ed. Luis Santullano. Madrid: Aguilar, 1988. Thurston, Herbert and Donald Attwater. Butler's Lives of the Saints. Westminster, Christian Classics, 1981. Veith, Ilza. Hysteria: The History of a Disease. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1965. Velasco Kindalán, Magdalena. Libro de la vida de Santa Teresa de Jesús. Madrid: Ediciones Daimon, 1986. Vigil, Mariló. La vida de las mujeres en los siglos XVI y XVII. Madrid: Siglo Veintiuno de España, 1986. Vignau, Vicente, ed. Catálogo de la Inquisición de Toledo. Madrid: Tipografía de la Revista de Archivos, 1903.

Page 126 Walker, D. P. Unclean Spirits: Possession and Exorcism in France and England in the Late Sixteenth and Early Seventeenth Centuries. London: Scolar Press, 1981. Weber, Alison. "Between Ecstacy and Exorcism: Religious Negotiation in Sixteenth-Century Spain." Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 23: 2 (1993): 221-34. . "Saint Teresa, Demonologist." In Culture and Control in Counter- Reformation Spain, ed. Anne J. Cruz and Mary Elizabeth Perry, 171- 95. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992. . Teresa of Avila and the Rhetoric of Femininity. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990. Weinstein, Donald, and Rudolph M. Bell. Saints and Society. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982. Wilson, Diana. Allegories of Love: Cervantes's "Persiles and Sigismunda. " Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. Woods, William. A History of the Devil. New York: W. H. Allen, 1973. Zilboorg, Gregory. The Medical Man and the Witch during the Renaissance. New York: Cooper Square, 1969.

Page 127

Index A Acosta y Mejia, Antonia de, 33 Act of writing, 3; as cause of physical pain, 63; Christ's cross and, 70; commentaries by women about, 3; as conflictive, 86; control over, 42, 78; dangers of, 58-64; as disgusting, 98; as empowerment, 63; as form of rejection, 91; holy pen and, 70-71; illness and, 86; Inquisitorial consequences of, 59; Isabel de Jesús's and, 67, 71-72; justified, 80; letters, 86-87; nausea and, 42-43; negated, 23; obsession with, 3; poetry and, 115 n.4 ; renunciation of, 66; resistance and, 103; as self-incrimination, 63-64; status in convent and, 72 Adam, 29 Agreda, Sor Maria de, 22, 31, 115-16 n.7 Alba, Duke of, 110 n.5 Alfonso X: Cantigas de Santa Maria and, 48-49, 54 Alumbrados, 30, 110 n.4 Ana de San Agustin, Sor, 55-56 Animals as motifs, 87, 94-95 Anorexia, 41, 42, 57. See also Bulimia Antichrist, 57-58 Antifeminist rhetoric, 92 Antimarriage, 16-17 Antiwriting arguments, 68, 77-83, 98, 104 Antiwriting arguments and anxiety, 4-5 Anxiety over writing, 41, 43, 82-83 Approbations: antiwriting and, 77; by Fray Juan Joseph de Baños, 26; concept of, 5; disgust expressed in, 97; by Fray Gabriel de San Joseph, 24 Arenal, Electa, 53, 69, 104, 107 n.1, 115 n.5, 116 n.9 Art, 53-64 Augustine, Saint, 36 "Autobiographics," 10 Autobiography: availability of, 108 n.1; classic picaresque, 66; feminine, ix; orders to write, 5; title analyzed, 104; validity of, 66 "Autohagiography," 11-12 B Baños, Fray Juan Joseph de, 25-26 Barcia, Ana Maria (La Lobera), 33 Beata de Piedrahita, 32. See also Maria de Santo Domingo, Sor Beatas (lay holy women), 30, 42, 101, 110 n.3, n.4; nuns and, 110 n.3; revelanderas, 31 Beatification, 65 Bell, Rudolph M., 11-12, 14, 28, 44, 57 Bernard, Saint, 35 Bilinkoff, Jodi, 115 n.6 Birth, act of, 58 Birth order, 12 Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Renate, 57 Bodies, women's, in their writings, 14 Bodin, Jean, 33 Bojani, Benvenuta (1255-1280), 36 Bosch, Hieronymus, 50, 56-57 Breuer, Josef, 41-42 Bulimia, 37, 42. See also Anorexia Bull: miracle story of, 18; symbolism of, 116 n.4 Butler, Judith, 86 Bynum, Caroline Walker, 14, 41, 111-12 n.12, 114 n.4 C Calvo, Ignacio, 97 Canale, Florian, 36 Canon, visible, 104-5 Canonization, 28, 31. See also Sainthood, Saintliness Captatio benevolentiae tradition, 66 Carlos II, 88 Carmelite order, 7, 19-20, 32 Caro Baroja, Julio, 34, 55-56 Cartagena, Teresa de, 102-103 Castañega, Martin de, 34 Catalina de Jesús, Madre, 25, 110 n.4 Catalina de Siena, Santa, 19, 32, 37, 38

Page 128 Catherine of Raccognigi (b. ca. 1486), 37 Cazalla, María de, 110 n.4 Cerdo jabali, 92 Chastity, vow of, 14, 39 Church officials, criticism of, 92-94 Ciruelo, Pedro. See Sánchez Ciruelo, Pedro Cisneros, Cardinal, 110 n.5 Coakley, John, 115 n.6 Colomba da Rieti, 38, 54 Confessor-nun relationship: act of writing and, 66-67; approbation and, 74; confessional writing and, 10; as conflictive, 73-76; control over Isabel de Jesús's papers and, 77-78; control over writing, 62; dual role of confessor in, 76; during Isabel de Jesús's adolescence, 14-15; images of lions and, 72; Inquisition and, 76; lack of trust in, 20, 109 n.3, n.10; obedience and, 19; permission to write and, 69; politics of ''lying" in, 7-10; possibility of sexual relations, 14; public voice of women and, 73; resistance to, 68; "truth" and, 8-10 Confessors, 68-69; dual role of, 76; images of, 72; Isabel de Jesús's distrust of, 78; of Santa Teresa, 73, 76 Conjugal relations, 18. See also Sexual relations Convents: dowry to enter, 16-17; entry into, 19-20; food and fasting in, 3; melancholy, 29; status symbols in, 72 Counter-Reformation, 9, 58, 61 Cousin of Isabel de Jesus: his death, 11, 13-14; her infatuation with, 10-11, 13-14 Covarrubias, Sebastián de, 56, 92 D Dacian, 21, 22 Defecation, 50 fig.6, 57 Demoniac expulsion, 49 fig.5, 54 Demoniacs, types of, 40 Demonic: association with antiwriting, 98; figures, traditional demonology and, 116 n.8; involvement, 32-33 Demonology, 33-34 Demons: attack adolescents, 14; attack Isabel de Jesús as adolescent, 14; bull as symbol of, 18; in form of monkeys, 14; huge pigs as, 91-92; male figures as, 18 Devil: argues for marriage, 15, 17; Counter-Reformation style and, 55; cynical discourse of, 4-5; cynicism as criticism, 78; dialogue with, 98; discourse of, 4; eating sinners, 57; illness and, 41; Santa Leocadia and, 22; men and, 18, 99; in metanarrative, 103-4; nausea and, 4, 29-43; obsession and, 40-41; pictorial representations and, 53-54; reappropriation by Isabel de Jesús of, 29; represents patriarchal society, 91-96, 99; resistance and, ix; stench of, 116 n.2 ; sulfur smell and, 87-88; temptations of, 29, 81-82; torments by, 4, 22; tortures of, 81 Diabolic intervention, 32, 102 Diabology, 33-34 Diary genre, 10, 102 Diez de Ortega, Blas (Isabel de Jesús's father), 12-13, 107 n.1 Diocletian, 21 Discourse: of Devil, 4; patriarchal, 5; power of, 62; public, 5, 72; religious, relationship to metawriting of, 80; of resistance, ix; used as weapon, 58; verbal, 58; women in public, 72; written, 58, 77-79 Disgust, concept of, 42 Domenica dal Paradiso (b. 1472), 36-37 Dominguez Ortiz, Antonio, 20 Dominican order, 115 n.6 Dorothy of Montau, 36 "Double bind," 65-66, 99, 103, 104 Dowries, 16-17, 109 n.8 E Eating disorders, 44, 79 Ebon, Martin, 54, 113 n.19 Edict of Denunciations, 30 Editor, God as, 69 Eidolons, 54 Emesis, 36, 112 n.17. See also Vomiting Empowerment, 29, 63, 103 Endemoniadas, 55 Epistolary genre, 70 Ecstatic nosebleeds, 112 n.12 Ecstatics, 30 Eustochia of Messina, 37 Eve, symbolism of, 29, 43 "Exception to the rule," 23-28, 103

Page 129 Exorcism: iconographic images and, 53; illustrations, 47 figs.2,3, 48 fig.4, 54; and possession, 112 n.13; public ceremony of, 55; recognition and, 113 n.20; Santa Teresa and, 38; theater and, 114; visual representation of, 54-55, 57; vomiting and, 36; von Berg on, 35; writings on, 34 F Fakery, religious, 30 Faludi, Susan, 116-17 n.6 Fasting, 42; among saintly girls, 14; practice of, 36-38; role in convent life of, 3 Father-confessor, 14. See also confessor-nun relationship Favoritism, 20 Felipe II, 30, 31, 56. See also Philip II Felipe III, 31. See also Philip III Female inferiority, claims of, based on Biblical sources, 29, 61-62; mystical powers and, 29-30; "rule" of, 23-24 Female silence: of deviants, 62; doctrine of, 24; image of lock on mouth, 61; mandate of, x; misogyny and, 61-62; and mouth motif, 64; nausea and, 42; and patriarchy, ix Ferdinand of Aragon, 110 n.5 Fieschi, Catherine, 38 Financial straits of Isabel de Jesús's family, 15 Food and fasting, 3-4, 89 Foucault, Michel, 8, 113 n.18 Francisca de los Apóstoles (Francisca de Avila), 30 Franco, Jean, 83, 115 n.3 Freud, Sigmund, 41-42, 112-13 n.18, 113 n.19 G Gabriel de San Joseph, Sor, 24-25, 60, 91, 97 Garcia y Castilla, Fray Fancisco, 27 Garden of Delights, The, 50 fig.6, 57 Gilbert, Sandra M., 65, 82 Gilmore, Leigh, 10, 14, 109 n.3 Giuliani, Veronica (b. 1660), 37 God supports Isabel de Jesús's writing, 76, 83, 90 Greenspan, Kate, 11, 109 n.6 Gregory XV, Pope, 32 Guazzo, Francesco Maria, 35 Gubar, Susan, 65, 82 H Hamlet, 42 Harmony, 58 Hell, 50 fig.6, 57 Heresy: allegory of, 51 fig.7, 58; icon of, 64; labels of, 102; punishment for, 62; sainthood and, 102; written accounts and, 65 Hernández, Miguel, 21 Heterodoxy, Isabel de Jesús's fears of, 77. See also Orthodoxy Hidden treasure, 95; concept of Isabel de Jesús's writing as, 26-28; mystic prayer as, 109-10 n.11 History: feminist, 3; gender-conscious, 3 Hobby, Elaine, 114 n.5 "Holy anorexia and bulimia," theme of, 4. See also Anorexia; Bulimia; Eating Disorders Holy pen, symbolism of, 23 Holy suffering. See Suffering, holy Horozco y Covarrubias, Juan de, 43 Huarte de San Juan, Juan, 29 Humiliation, threat of public, 62-63 Humility, strategy of (false): antiwriting and, 5, 68; disobedience and, 19; as part of antiwriting argument, 77, 79-80; public recognition and, 104; seeming negation of, 96; rhetoric of, 79. See also Modesty formulas Hysteria: demonology and, 113 n.19; diagnosis of, 41; labels of, 102; 112 n.17 I Ice skating, 38 Iconograms, 54 Illness, 14, 85, 86; authorship and, 88; Devil and, 41 Illuminism, 30, 78 Infallibility, clerical, 94 Inquisition (Holy Office): beatas and, 110 n.4; conflicts with, 101; control of Isabel de Jesús by, 68; female mystics and, 30-33; heresy and, 59-60, 111 n.6; Isabel de Jesús and, 5, 74-76, 95; nuns' visions and, 74; persecution of Illuminists and, 78-79; prowriting and, 68; secret prisons of, 39; sorcery and, 111 n.8; Santa Teresa and, 78-79; of Toledo, 33,

Page 130 39; visions and, 29; written records and, 5 Intertextuality, 102 Isabel de Jesús (of Navalcán, 1586-1648), 57 Isabel de Jesús (Isabel de Sosa, 1611-82): comparison with Santa Teresa, 12; confusion over name, 101, 107-8 n.1; death of, 27, 28; double bind of, 65-66; early life of, 7-8, 10-13, 77, 109 n.4, 110; false humility and, 80; fasting and, 42; fear of marriage of, 17-18; Inquisition and, 101; journeys to Morocco, 32; joy of writing, 70-71; political writings of, 88; portrait of, 46 fig.1; as preacher, 59-64; santo angel, 69, 93-94; secular life and, 67; seductive male and, 55; as sinner, 60; theological writings of, 67-68; visual portrait of, 22-23; witchcraft trials and, 33; as writer, 59-64; writings controlled, 42 Isabel de la Cruz, 107 n.1, 110 n.4 Isabel de San Jerónimo, Sor, 38 J Janés, Clara, 108 Jews, 92, 116 n.3 Juan de la Cruz, San, 9 K Kagan, Richard L., 30, 107-8 n.l Keller, John E., 53 Kinkade, Richard P., 53 Kors, Alan C., 54 Kramer, Heinrich, 110 n.2, 111 n.7 L Lea, Henry Charles, 31 Learned males, 26, 96 Leocadia cult, 21. See also Leocadia, Santa Leocadia, Santa: animal vision of, 95; cult of, 21; hidden treasure and, 27; Isabel de Jesús's visions of, 20-21; patroness of Toledo, 21; prowriting and, 68; role of in Isabel de Jesús's life, 21-23 León, Lucrecia de, 31 Letter writing, 86-87 Lidwina of Schiedam, 37-38 Lions, symbolism of, 72 Lisón Tolosana, Carmelo, 42, 113 n.19 Literary activity, Isabel de Jesús's illness and, 88-89 Luisa de la Ascención, 31 Lust, symbol of, 92 Luyster, Robert W., 42 M Magdalena de la Cruz, 30, 33, 62 Male: domination, 44; figures as demonic, 104; hierarchies, 42; learned, 26; versus female defendants in sorcery trials, 33; virility, symbols of, 18 Malleus maleficarum, 34, 41 Marcela de San Félix, Sor, 22, 116 n.7 Maria de la Antigua, Sor (1566-1617), 22, 57 Maria de Santo Domingo, Sor (Beata de Piedrahita), 32, 37, 110 n.5, 111-12 n.12 Mariana de Jesús, Sor (1577-1620), 57, 92 Mariana Francisca de los Angeles, Sor (1637-97), 57 Mariño Ferro, Xosé Ramón, 18, 116 n.8, n.2 Marranaços, 91-92 Marriage, 14, 15, 16-17, 17-18, 109 n.9 Married women, 24 Martyrdom: caused by Isabel's writing, 4; diabolic possession and, 39; female, 22; iconography of due to writing, 4; Isabel de Jesús's pain and; obedience and, 19; of Santa Teresa, 12 Mary of Oignies, 37 Melancholy, 29, 38-39, 40, 74, 112 n.15 Men as demonic figures, 18 Metanarrative, 42-43, 103, 107 Metaphors, bodily, 85 Metawriting, 66-68 Mexico, 115 n.3 Midelfort, H.C. Erik, 32, 40 Millennium, 57 Miracles: after Isabel de Jesús's death, 28; in Isabel de Jesús's narrative, 23; of Santa Leocadia, 21, 22; of stray bull, 18; of sword transformed into pens, 71 Misogyny, x, 29-30; female silence and, 61-62; nature of policies, 4 Modesty formulas, 66, 79-80. See also Humility, strategy of (false) Monjas embaucadoras, 29-43

Page 131 Monkey, 14, 85, 92-93, 116 n.4 Moral disgust, 42-43 Morales, Maria de, 30 Mordaza, 62 Mortification, 19, 29, 60 Mother. See Sosa y Villaquirán, Elena de Mouth as motif: demonic, 36, 47 figs.2,3, 57; exorcism and, 53-56; heresy and, 58-64; lock on, 61; regurgitation and, 114 n.4; vomit and, 91 Mouth and throat motifs, 60-64 Myers, Kathleen A., 109 n.4, n.10 Mystic prayer, 68, 70 Mystic theology, 30. See also Ecstatics N Nausea: devil and, 4; functions of, 104; Jews and, 116 n.3 ; misogynist philosophy and, 99; onset of Isabel de Jesús's, 81; repugnancia and, 97-99; role of, ix-x; significance of, 86; symbolism of, 64; as theme of metanarrative, 42. See also Emesis; Vomiting Navarro, Ana, 108 Navarro, Gaspar, 29-30, 34, 40 Naxara, Joseph de, 34 Nelken, Margarita, 10, 102, 108 n.2, 109 n.5 New Christians. See Jews Nietzsche, Friedrich, 42 Noydens, Padre Benito Remigio, 34 Nuns: aggressive behavior of, 42; beatas and, 110 n.3; confessors and, 72; ''deceiving," 102; heretical, 28, 29; as holy victims, 58; melancholy of, 38-39; time devoted to literary activity, 83; visionary, 30 O Obedience: of divine law, 72; and rebellion, 19-21; vow of, as justification, 5; writing and, 26-27; and writing theme, 68 Obsessions, 40-41, 55 d'Oingt, Marguerite, 86 Olivares, Gaspar de Guzmán, count of, 39 Oral verse tradition, 9 Orthodoxy: defined, 5; Isabel de Jesús's visions of, 75; proving Isabel de Jesús's, 64, 101, 102; nausea and, 43. See also Heterodoxy Orthographical conventions, 108 n.1 P Paredes, Julian de, 27 Paredes, Manuel de, 7-8, 15, 79; Isabel de Jesús's poetry and, 9-10; silent pen and, 27 Patriarchal: exclusion, 12-16; society, devil as representing, 91-96; rhetoric of, 5 Patriarchy: compared to the Devil, 81; criticism of, 4; double bind of, 66; female silence and, ix; phallic sword and, 71; role of women in Church and, 89 Paul, Saint, 23-24, 60, 65 Paul V, Pope, 34 Pen, holy, 70-71 Penury of Isabel de Jesús's family, 15 Pérez de Valdivia, Diego, 55 Perry, Mary Elizabeth, 109 n.8, 110 n.3, n.4 Peters, Edward, 54 Petroff, Elizabeth, 14, 53, 86 Philip, II, 31. See also Felipe II Philip III, 32. See also Felipe III Philip IV, 31 Physicality, 85, 86 Pisa, Francisco de, 21-23, 27 Plagiarization, claims of, 7-10, 101-2, 109 n.4 Poetry: plagiarism alleged, 7-10, 101-2; secular themes in, 9; by women, 3 Polidori, Valerio, 112 n.13 Political writings of Isabel de Jesús, 88 Pork, prohibition against, 92 Possession: demonic, 30, 32, 33, 43, 87; diabolic, 34, 39, 40; demands and, 113 n.20; recognition and, 20, 113 Possession-exorcism, process of, 112 n.13 Poverty, life of, 17 Prayer, 95. See also Mystic prayer Preaching, prohibition against women, 60 Priest-monkey connection, 92-93, 116 n.4 Prisons, secret, 39 Prophecy, gift of, 33 Protagonists, literary, 66 Prowriting arguments, 5, 68-76 Public voice of women religious, 73 Punishment for writing, 61, 104

Page 132 Reappropriation by Isabel de Jesús of, Devil, 29 Religious vocation, choice of, 15, 16-17; for Isabel de Jesús, 11 Religious women: behavior expected of, 61; discourse of, 5; food and fasting among, 3-4; humility expected from, 24 Repugnancia, 97-99, 104 Resistance: as basis of narrative, 99; deceit as strategy of, 102; discourse of, ix, x; holy, 58; nausea as, 42; to Devil's cruelty, 63; using traditional rhetoric, 102 Reventar, use of term, 56 Rio, Martin del, 34 Ripa, Cesare, 51, 58 Robbins, Russell Hope, 40 Robertson, Elizabeth, 14 Russell, Jeffery Burton, 36, 54 S Sainthood: "antimiracle" attitude and, 23; illness and, 14; mother's role in, 19; potential for, 11-12; as process, 19-20; requirements for, 28. See also Canonization; Saintliness Saintliness: autohagiography and, 11-12; control of notebooks and, 69; Devil's tortures and, 4; doubted, 108-9 n.2 ; heaven and, 90; heresy and, 102; mouth as motif and, 64; obedience and, 68; offering proofs of, 28; suffering from Devil's tortures and, 103; written accounts and, 65. See also Canonization, Sainthood Sánchez Ciruelo, Pedro, 34, 110-11 n.6 Santa Leocadia. See Leocadia, Santa Santa Teresa. See Teresa, Santa 5, 111-12 n.12 Sartre, Jean-Paul, 42 Scatological themes, 57. See also Defecation, Nausea Schlau, Stacey, 53, 69, 107 n.1, 115 n.5, 116 n.9 Secular option refused, 15, 18 Serrano y Sanz, Manuel, 10, 107 n.1, 108 n.2, 109 n.5 Sexual relations, 11, 14 Silence of women: antiwriting and, 68; Isabel de Jesús's challenge to, 43-44; mandate of, ix; objections to, 96; reaction against, 56; rejection of, 91 Silva, Teresa de, 39 Simancas, Lorenza de, 31 Simón Diaz, José 107-8 n.1 Sins, seven mortal, 95 Sloterdijk, Peter, 78, 97 Smoking, male habit of, 92 Sorcery: religious women and, 30; witchcraft and, 110-11 n.6 Sosa, Alonso de (Isabel de Jesús's brother), 13, 15, 16 Sosa, Isabel de, 6. See Isabel de Jesús Sosa y Villaquirán, Elena de (Isabel de Jesús's mother), 12-13, 107 n.1; death of, 15; reprimand by, 77; role of, 12-13, 19 Speaking, act of, 58 Spirituality: ecstatic, 101; limitations on feminine, 86 Sprenger, James, 110 n.2, 111 n.7 Steinem, Gloria, 116-17 n.6 Suffering: holy, 21, 22, 37, 85; physical, 14 Sulfur, smell of, 87-88 Supernatural, 12, 32 Sword, symbolism of, 71 T Teresa de Avila, Santa, 103 Teresa de Jesús, 23 Teresa, Santa: act of writing and, 66; confessors of, 73, 76, 78-79; convent melancholy and, 29; death of, 27; Devil described by, 56; diet and fasting, 38-39; discourse of, 79; double bind of, 65-66; as exception to the rule, 25; heresy trials and, 31; iconography and, 22, 55; Inquisition and, 78-79; Isabel de Jesús reads work of, 71; Isabel de Jesús's visions of, 20-21; orthodoxy debated, 31-32; poetry of, 9; prayer and, 80; prowriting and, 68; on revelations, 25; role in Isabel de Jesús's life of, 21; "syndrome," 23-28; tradition of holy pen and, 23, 70; Vida of, 10, 114 n.2; on visions, 25; vomiting by, 37-38 Teresian tradition, 103 Theater, public, 55 Theology, 70; mystic, 30