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SAINT ELIZABETH,

OF HUNGARY,

BY THB

COUNT DE MONTALEMBERT,

or TKAXOB.

TRANSLATED BT MAKY HACKVTT.

INTRODUCTION T&AN8LATXD JBT lf&. J. SABLZX*.

"A.O antiquo scriptis non eontentos, ipse quoque scrip turirc incepi, non at seientiu*
earn qua pene nulla est, pioponcrem ; sed tit res abseonditas, qua in true raritatu
ttebat, convellerem in lucero." GuiUelm Malmttli. de Gat. Reg., Vol. II., Prol.

D. & J. SADLIER & CO.. 31 BARCLAY STREET

MONTREAL : COR. NOTRE DAMS AND ST. FRANCIS XATDR STI*

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1888.

COUNT DE MONTALEMBERT,

ILLUSTRIOUS CHAMPION OF RELIGION AND LIBKRT1

THROUGHOUT THE WORLD,

SEfjffl

OF HIS

"HISTOIRE DE SAINTE ELISABETH,**

IS INSCRIBED,

WITH SENTIMENTS OP HEARTFELT ADMIRATION AND PROFOUH

RESPECT FOR HIS NOBLE CHARACTER,

ASD EVER EARNEST SYMPATHY IN BEHALF OF TSM

EBlfiH PEOPLR.

PREFACE

CO THE SEOOKD AMERICAN EDITION.

COUNT DE MONTALEMBEBT'S Life of St. Elizabeth, of
Hwngatry has been now some years before the public,
and, though more recently translated into English, its
merits are not unknown to the Catholic world. It ia
a work of such rare merit, in its kind, that wherever it
goes it will be sure to make friends and admirers for
itself, and requires not a word of commendation.
There is a winning charm, a soft poetic halo around
the whole narrative, that is in admirable keeping with
the life and character of the charming princess whose
brief mortal career it chronicles. It required a Mon-
talembert to write the life of Elizabeth, and it would
also require a master's hand to render it faithfully into
a new language. It is by no means so easy as some
imagine to translate a book, especially if it be a work
of genius, for not only does it require an intimate ac-
quaintance with both languages, but also a certain

PREFACE

tO THE SECOND AMERICAN EDITION.

COUNT DE MONTALEMBERT'S Life of St. El/izabeth, of
Jlwnga/ry has been now some years before the public,
and, though more recently translated into English, its
merits are not unknown to the Catholic world. It is
a work of such rare merit, in its kind, that wherever it
goes it will be sure to make friends and admirers for
itself, and requires not a word of commendation.
There is a winning charm, a soft poetic halo around
the whole narrative, that is in admirable keeping with
the life and character of the charming princess whose
brief mortal career it chronicles. It required a Mon-
talembert to write the Jjfe of Elizabeth, and it would
also require a master's hand to render it faithfully into
a new language. It is by no means so easy as some
imagine to translate a book, especially if it be a work
of genius, for not only does it require an intimate ac-
quaintance with both languages, but also a certain

6 PREFACE.

portion of the creative genius which brought it forth
from nothing. When Miss Hackett translated the Life
itself, she omitted fas Introduction of the noble author,
which is certainly a valuable appendage to the worlc,
presenting, as it does, a beautiful and graphic picture
of the Christian world during the half century which
. included the brief career of Elizabeth. This omission
I endeavored to snr>ply to the best of my ability, fully
^conscious at the same time, that I could hardly do jus-
tice to so admirable a composition.

In preparing this second edition for the press, I
have carefully compared the whole work with the
original, and' I trust it will be found comparatively
free from the typographical and other errors which
disfigured the former edition.

CONTENTS.

UPTIB

Introduction t

L How Duke Hermann reigned in Thuringia, and King Andrew in Hnn .
gary, and how the dear St Elizabeth was born at Presbourg, and was

brought to Eisenach 105

II. How the dear St. Elizabeth honoured God in her Childhood 116

III. How the dear St. Elizabeth had to suffer for God 123

IV. How the young Louis was faithful to the dear St. Elizabeth, and how he

married her 128

* V. How the Duke Louis, husband of the dear. St Elizabeth, was agreeable

to God and man 188

VI. How the Duke Louis and the dear St. Elizabeth lived together before

God in the holy state of marriage 140

VII. How the dear St. Elizabeth practised the virtue of mortification 144

VIII. Of the great charity of the dear St Elizabeth, and of her love of poverty 151

IX. Of the great devotion and humility of the dear St. Elizabeth 161

X. How the dear St Elizabeth was known and cherished by the glorious
St Francis, and how she had for spiritual director Master Conrad of

Marbourg 168

XI. How the Lord was pleased to manifest his grace in the person of the

dear St Elizabeth 180

XII. Haw the Duke Louis protected his poor people 189

XIII. How a great famine devastated Thuringia, and how the dear St. Eliza-

beth practised all the works of mercy 194

XIV. HowDuke Louis returned to his wife, and how he rendered true justice

to his dear monks of Seynhartsbrunn.. 20i

XV. How the good Duke Louis took up the Cross, and of the great grief
wherewith he bade farewell to his friends, his family, and the dear

St. Elizabeth 209

XVI. How Duke Louis died on his way to the Holy Land 224

XVII. How the dear St Elizabeth heard of the death of her husband, and of

her great agony and tribulation 239

XVIII. Hbw the dear St. Elizabeth was driven out of her castle with her little -
children, and reduced to extreme misery, and of the great ingratitude
of .men toward* oer 9M

C CONTENTS.

BAFTBK PA<0*

XIX. flow the All-merciful Jesus consoled the dear St Elizabeth in her lone-
liness and misery, and how the sweet and most clement Virgin Mary

came to instruct and fortify her 844

XX. How the dear St. Elizabeth refused to marry a second time, and how
she consecrated her wedding garments to Jesus, the spouse of her

soul 25}

XXI. How the dear St. Elizabeth received the remains of her husband, fcnd

how they were interred at Beynnartsbrnnn .' 264

XXII. How the Thuringian knights made Duke Henry repent of his wicked-
ness, and made him render ample justice to the dear St. Elizabeth. . 2TO
. XXIII. How the dear St. Elizabeth retfbunced the worldly life, and, retiring
to Marbourg, assumed there the habit of the Order of the glorious

St. Francis '. 274

XXIV. Of the great poverty in which the dear St. Elizabeth lived, and how

she advanced in humility and mercy towards all creatures 295

XXY. How the dear St. Elizabeth refused to return to her father's kingdom,

in order that she might more surely enter the kingdom of Heaven. 299
XXVL How the dear St. Elizabeth distributed all her property amongst the

poor 802

XXVII. How the dear St. Elizabeth learned from Master Conrad, how in all

things to destroy self-will 807

XXVIII. How the Lord exercised his power and mercy at the intercession of *

the dear St Elizabeth, and of the marvellous efficacy of her prayers. 819
XXIX. How the dear St. Elizabeth, when aged twenty-four years, was sum-
moned to the eternal wedding feast 884

XXX. How the dear St. Elizabeth was buried in the church near her Hos-
pital, and how even the little birds of heaven celebrated her obse-
quies 841

XXXI. Of the wonderful miracles obtained from God by the intercession of
the dear St. Elizabeth, and how anxiously her brother-in-law, Duke
Conrad, wished to have her canonized 84<

XXXII. How the dear St. Elizabeth was canonized by Pope Gregory, and of
the great joy. and veneration of the faithful in Germany, on the occa-
sion of the exaltation of her relics at Marbourg 860

XXXIIL Of what became of the -children and relatives of the dear St Elizabeth

after her death, and of the great saints that sprung from her race. . . 884

XXXIY. Of the noble Church that was erected at Marbourg in honour of the
dear St. Elizabeth ; and how her precious relics were profaned ; aad
lao the conclusion of this bJfltorv... -_...,-, 4M

INTRODUCTION.

ON the 19th of November, 1833, a traveller arrived at
Marbourg, a city of Electoral Hesse, situated on the pleasant
banks of the Lahn. He stopped there in order to stndy the
Gothic Church which it contains, celebrated not only for its
rare and perfect beauty, but also because it was the first in
Germany wherein the ogee prevailed over the full arch, in
the great revival of art in the 13th century. This basilic
oears the name of St. Elizabeth, and it happened that the
traveller in question arrived on the very day of her feast. In
the church, now Lutheran, like all the country around,
there was seen no mark of solemnity ; only, in honour of the
day, it was open, contrary to the practice of Protestants, and
.children were amusing themselves by jumping on the tomb-
stones. The stranger passed along its vast naves, all deserted
and dismantled, yet still young in their lightness and elegance. -
He saw resting against a pillar the statue of a young woman
in a widow's dress, her face calm and resigned, one hand hold-
ing the model of a church, and the other giving alms to an
unhappy cripple ; further on, on bare and naked altars, from
which no priestly hand ever wiped the dust, he carefully
examined some ancient painting on wood, half effaced, and
sculptures in relievo, sadly mutilated, yet all profoundly im-
pressed with the simple and tender charm of Christian art.
In these representations, he distinguished a young woman ia
1*

10 INTRODUCTION.

great trepidation, showing to a crowned warrior the skirt of
her cloak filled with roses ; in another place, that same
knight angrily drew the covering from his bed, and beheld
Christ stretched on the cross ; a little farther, the knight and
the lady were reluctantly tearing themselves asunder after a
fond embrace ; then again was seen the young woman, fairer
than ever, extended on her bed of death, surrounded by
priests and weeping nuns ; in the last place, bishops were
taking up from a vault a coffin on which an Emperor was
placing his crown. The traveller was told that these were
incidents in the history of St. Elizabeth, one of the sovereigns
of that country, who died just six hundred years ago, in that
same city of Marbourg, and was buried in that same church.
In the corner of an obscure sacristy, he was shown the silver
shrine, richly sculptured, which had contained the relics of the
Saint, down to the time when one of her descendants, having
become a Protestant, tore them out and flung them to the
winds. Under the stone canopy which formerly overhung
the shrine, he saw that every step was deeply hollowed, and
he was told that these were the traces of the innumerable
pilgrims who came of old to pray at the shrine, but none
within the last three hundred years. He knew that there
were in that city some few of the faithful and a Catholic
priest ; but neither Mass nor any other visible commemora-
tion of the Saint to whom that day was consecrated.

The stranger kissed the stone hallowed by the knees of
faithful generations, and resumed his solitary course ; but he
was ever after haunted by a sad yet sweet remembrance of
that forsaken Saint, whose forgotten festival he had unwit-
tingly come to celebrate. He set about studying her life;* he
successively ransacked those rich depositories of ancient lite-

* These researches have since been completed by others In various HbiwrlM of
lUly aad Flanders, especially in the Vatican and the Laurontian.

''-' '-'''- *' - " " "* -'' -*" ' " ' "

INTRODUCTION. ll

nature which abound in Germany. Charmed more and more
every .day by what he learned of her, that thought gradually
became the guiding star of his wanderings. After having
drawn all he could from books and chronicles, and consulted
manuscripts the most neglected, he wished, after the example
of the first historian of the Saint, to examine places and
popular traditions. He went, then, from city to city, from
castle to castle, from church to church, -seeking everywhere
traces of her who has always been known in Catholic Ger-
many as the dear Saint Elizabeth. He tried in vain to visit
her birth-place, Presburg, in farther Hungary ; but he was,
at least, able to make some stay at that famous castle of
Wartbourg, whither she came a child, where her girlish daya
were spent, and where she married a husband as pious and aa
,cving as herself ; he could climb the rough paths by which
she went on her errands of charity to her beloved friends, the
poor ; he followed her to Creuzburg, where she first became
a mother ; to the monastery of Reinhartsbrunn, where at
twenty years of age she had to part with her beloved hus-
band, who went to die for the Holy Sepulchre ; to Bamberg,
where she found an asylum from the most cruel persecu-
tions : to the holy mountain of Andechs, the cradle of her
family, where she made an offering of her wedding-robe when
the cherished wife had become a homeless and exiled widow.
A.t Erfurth he touched with his lips the glass which she left
the humble nuns as a memento of her visit. Finally, he
returned to Marbourg, where she consecrated the last days
of her life to the most heroic works of charity, and where she
died at twenty-four -to pray at her desecrated tomb, and to
gather with difficulty some few traditions amongst a people
who, with the faith of their fathers, have nst their devotion
to their sweet patroness.

The result of these protracted researches, of tLese piooi
pilgrimages, is contained in this book. ;

2 INTRODUCTION.

Often, when wandering through our plastered-up cities, or
our rural districts, despoiled of their ancient ornaments, and
fast losing all traces of ancestral life, the sight of a ruin which
has escaped the spoilers, of a statue lying in the grass, an
arched door-way, a staved rosace, will arouse the imagina-
tion ; the mind is struck, as well as the eye ; our curiosity is
excited ; we ask ourselves what part did that fragment play
in the whole ; we unconsciously fall into contemplation : by
degrees, the entire fabric rises before our mental vision, and
when the work of interior reconstruction is completed, we
behold the Abbey, the Church, the Cathedral, towering aloft
in all its majestic beauty ; we see the sweep of its vaulted
roof, and mingle in the crowd of its faithful people, amid the
symbolic pomp and ineffable harmony of ancient worship.
" Thus -it is that the writer of this book, having travelled
long in foreign countries, and pondered much on past ages,
has picked up this fragment, which he offers to those who
have the same faith and the same sympathies as himself, to
aid them in reconstructing in their mind the sublime edifice
of the Catholic ages.

Thanks to the many invaluable monuments of the life of
St. Elizabeth, which are found in the great historical collec-
tions of Germany as well as in the manuscripts of its libra-
ries ; thanks to the numerous and minute details transmitted
to us by biographers, some of them contemporaries of St.
Elizabeth, and others attracted by the charm which her char-
acter and her destiny are so well calculated to exercise over
every Catholic mind ; thanks to this singular combination of
auspicious circumstances, we are able to effect a double pur-
pose in writing this life While closely adhering to the fun*
damental idea of iuch a work, viz., to give the life of a Saint,
A legend of the ages of Faith, we may also hope to furnish a
faithful picture of the manners and customs of society at a
period when the empire of the Church and of chivalry was at

INTRODUCTION. 13

its height, ft has long been felt that even the purely profane
history of an age so important for the destinies of mankind,
might gain much in depth, and in accuracy, from particular
researches on the object of the most fervent faith and dearest
affectiens of the men of those times. We may venture to say
that, in the history of the middle ages, there are few biogra
phies so well adapted to carry out that view, as the history
of St. Elizabeth.

On the other hand, before we say more of this Saint, and
the ideas which- she represents, it seems to us that we should
give a sketch of the state of Christianity at the time in which
she lived, for her life would be totally inexplicable to those
who neither knew nor could appreciate her age. Not only ia
it that her destiny, her family, and her name, are connected,
more or less, with a host of the events of those times, but
that her character is so analogous to what the world then
saw on a grander scale, that it becomes indispensably neces-
sary for the" reader to recall, as he goes along, the principal
features of the social state wherein her name holds such a dis-
tinguished place. We must, therefore, be allowed to turn
aside for a moment, before commencing the life of St. Eliza-
beth, in order to depict her contemporaries and her times.

St. Elizabeth was born in 1201, and died in 1231, so that
her brief career occurs during that first half of the 13th
century, which is, perhaps, of all other periods, the most im-
portant, the most complete, and the most resplendent, in the
history of Catholic society. It would be, it seems to us, diffi-
cult to find, in the glorious annals of the Church, a time when
her influence over the world and over mankind, in all its de-
velopments, was more vast, more prolific, more incontestible.
Never, perhaps, had the Spouse of Christ reigned with such
absolute dominion over the mind and heart of nations ; she
saw all the ancient elements, against which she had so long
struggled, at length subdued and prostrate at her feet j th

INTRODUCTION.

entire West !'owed with respectful love under her holy law
In the Ioa~ ^.-uggle which she had had to sustain, even from
her divine origin, against the passions and repugnances of
fallen humanity, never had she more successfully fought, nor
more vigorously pinioned down her enemies. It is true, her
victory was far from being, and could not be, complete, since
ihe is here below only to fight, and expects to triumph only
in heaven ; but certain it is that then, more than at a ay
other moment of that protracted warfare, the love of her
children, their boundless devotion, their numbers and thtir
daily increasing courage, the Saints whom she every day "saw
coming to light amongst them, gave to that immortal mother
strength and consolation, of which she has since been but too
cruelly deprived.

The thirteenth century is the more remarkable, on this
point, inasmuch as the close of the twelfth was far from
being auspicious. In fact, the echo of St. Bernard's voice,
which seems to have wholly filled that age, had grown feeble
towards its end, and with it failed the exterior force of the
Catholic thought. The disastrous battle of Tiberiad, the loss
of the true Cross, and the taking of Jerusalem by Saladin,
(1187.) had shown the West overcome by the East, on the
sacred soil which the Crusades had redeemed. The debauch-
ery and tyranny of Henry II. of England, the murder of St.
Thomas a Becket, the captivity of Richard Cwur de Lion,
the violence exercised by Philip Augustus towards his wife
Ingerburge, the atrocious cruelties of the Emperor Henry
VII. in Sicily all these triumphs of brute force indicated,
but too plainly, a certain diminution of Catholic strength ;
whilst the progress of the Waldensian and Albigensian
heresies, with the universal complaints of the relaxation of
the clergy and the religious orders, disclosed a dangerous
evil in the very bosom of the Church. But a glorious reaction
Was soon to set in. In the last years ;f that century (1198,)

INTRODUCTION. 15

the chair of St. Peter was ascended by a man in the prime
of life, who, under the name" of Innocent III. was to straggle
with invincible courage against the enemies of justice and the
Church, and to give to the world perhaps the most accom-
plished model of a Sovereign Pontiff, the type, by excellence,
of the vicar of God. As this grand figure stands out in bold
relief from all that age whch he himself inaugurated, we
must be allowed to give a sketch of his character. Gracious
and benign in his manners endowed with uncommon personal
beauty warm and confiding in his friendships liberal to
excess in his alms and in his foundations an eloquent and
persuasive orator a learned and ascetic writer* a poet even,
as we see by his fine prose, Veni, Sancte Spiritus, and the
Stabat Mater, that sublime elegy composed by him a "great .
and profound jurisconsult, as it behoved the supreme judge
of Christendom to be the zealous protector of science and
of Christian literature a stern disciplinarian, vigorously
enforcing the laws and the discipline of the Church he had
every quality that might make his memory illustrious, .had he
been charged with the government of the Church at a calm
and settled period, or if that government had then been con-
fined to the exclusive care of spiritual things. But another
mission was reserved for him. Before he ascended the sacer-
dotal throne, he had understood, and even published in his
works, the end and destiny of the supreme Pontificate, not
only for the salvation of souls and the preservation of Catholic
truth, but for the good government of Christian society
Nevertheless, feeling no? confidence in himself, scarcely is he
elected when he earnestly demands of all the priests of the
Catholic world their special prayers that God might enlighten
and fortify him ; God heard that universal prayer, and gave

* See bis Sermons and hfa treatises De eontemta mundi, and th Seven P**i-
tential Psalms.

16 INTRODUCTION.

Mia strength to prosecute and to accomplish the great work
of St. Gregory VII. In his youth, whilst studying in the
University of Paris, he had made a pilgrimage to Canterbury,
to the tomb of St. Thomas the Martyr, and it is easy to
imagine what inspiration there was for him in those sacred
loiies, and what a fervent zeal he conceived for the freedom
of the Church, whose victorious champion he afterwards was.
But whilst he was defending that supreme liberty, the consti-
tution of Europe at that time conferred upon him the glorious?
function of watching, at .the same ,time, over all the interests
of nations, the maintenance of their rights, and the fulfilment
of all their duties. He was, during his whole reign of eighteen
years, at the very height of that gigantic mission. Though
incessantly menaced and opposed by his own subjects, tbe
turbulent people of Rome, he presided over the Church and
the Christian world with immoveable tranquillity, with cease-
less and minute attention, keeping his eye on every part as a
father and a judge. From Ireland to Sicily, from Portugal
to Armenia, no law of the Church is transgressed but he
takes it up, no injury is inflicted on the weak but he demands
reparation, no legitimate security is assailed but he protect?
it. For him, all Christendom is but one majestic unity, but
one single kingdom, undivided by boundary lines, and without
any distinction of races ; of which he is, without, the intrepid
defender, and, within, the impartial and incorruptible judge.
To shield it against its external enemies, he arouses the failing
ardour of the Crusades ; he shows himself inflamed, beyond
all men, with that holy desire to battle for the Cross, which
St. Gregory VII. had first conceived, and which had animated
fell the Roman Pontiffs till Pius II. died a Crusader. The
heart of the Popes was then, as it were, the focus whence that
holy zeal radiated over all the Christian nations ; their eyes
were ever open to the dangers by which Europe was sur
rounded, and whilst Innocent endeavoured, every year, to

INTRODUCTION:. 11

eend a Christian army against the victorious Saracens of the
East, in the North he propagated the faith amongst the
Sclaves and Sarmatians, and in the West, urging upon the
Spanish princes the necessity of concord amongst themselves,
and a decisive effort against the Moors, he ' directed them on
to their miraculous victories. He brought back to Catholic
unity, by the mere force of persuasion, and the authority of
his great character, the most remote kingdoms, such as Ar-
menia and Bulgaria, which, though victorious over the Latin
armies, hesitated not to bow to the decision of Innocent. To
a lofty and indefatigable zeal for truth, he well knew how to
join the highest toleration for individuals ; he protected the
Jews against the exactions of their princes and the blind fury
of their fellow-citizens, regarding them as the living witnesses
of Christian truth, imitating in that respect all his predecessors,
without one exception. He even corresponded with Maho-
metan princes, for the promotion of peace and their salvation.
While struggling with rare sagacity and unwearied assiduity
against the numberless heresies which were then breaking
out, menacing the foundations of order, social and moral, he
never ceased to preach clemency and moderation to the
exasperated and victorious Catholics, and even to the Bishops
themselves. He long applies himself to bring about, by
mildness and conciliation, the reunion of the Eastern and
Western Churches ; then, when the unexpected success of the
fourth Crusade, overthrowing the empire of Byzantium, had
brought under his dominion that erring portion of the Christian
world, and thus doubled his power, he recommends mildness
towards the conquered Church, and far from expressing a
single sentiment of joy or pride on hearing of that conquest,
he refuses to have any share in the glory and triumph of the
victors ; he rejects all theft excuses, all their pious pretences,
because, in their undertaking; they had violated the laws of
justice, and forgotten the Sepulchre of Christ ! It is that

18 INTRODUCTION.

for him religion and justice were all, and that with them h
identified his life. His soul was inflamed with a passionate
love of justice which no exception of persons, no obstacle, no
check, could either dimmish or restrain ; counting defeat or
success as nothing, when right was at stake mild and mer-
ciful towards the vanquished and the feeble stern and
inflexible towards the proud and the mighty everywhere
and ^always the protector of the oppressed, of weakness, and
of equity, against force triumphant and unjust. Thus it was
that he was seen resolutely defending the sanctity of the
marriage tie, as the key stone of society and of Christian life.
No outraged wife ever implored his powerful intervention in
vain. The world beheld him with admiration struggling for
fifteen years against his friend and ally, Philip Augustus, in
defence of the rights of that hapless Ingerburge who had
come from remote "Denmark to be the object of that monarch's
contempt. Deserted by all, shut up in prison without one
friend in that foreign land, she was not forgotten by the
Pontiff, who at length succeeded in reseating her on her
husband's throne, amid the acclamations of the people, who
exulted in the thought that there was, even in this world,
.equal justice for all.

It was in the same spirit that he watched, with paternal
solicitude, over the fate of royal orphans, the lawful heirs
of crowns, and that even in countries the most remote. We
see that he knew how to maintain the rights and preserve
the patrimony of the princes of Norway, of Holland, and of
Armenia, (1199,) the Infantas of Portugal, the young king
Ladislaus of Hungary, and even to the sons of the enemies
of the Church, such as James of Arragon, whose father had
been killed fighting for the heretics, and who, being himself
the prisoner of the Catholic army, 'was liberated by order of
Innocent ; such, also, as Frederic II., sole heir of the imperial
raco of Hohenstaufen, the most formidable rival of the Holy

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' '''" "'

INTRODUCTION. 19

See, but who, being left an orphan, to the care of Innocent,
is brought up, instructed, defended by him, and maintained
in his patrimony with the affectionate devotion, not only of a
guardian, but of a father. But still more admirable does he
appear to us, when offering an asylum, near his throne, to
the aged Raymond de Toulouse, the old and inveterate
enemy of Catholicity, with his young son ; when he himself
pleads their cause against the Prelates and the victorious
Crusaders ; when, after enriching the young prince with his
wise and loving counsels, after seeking in vain to soften his
conquerors, he assigned to him, notwithstanding their mur-
murs, the Earldom of Provence, in order that the innocent
son of a guilty father might not be left without some inherit-
ance. Is it, then, -surprising that, at a period when faith was
regarded as the basis of all thrones, and when justice, thus
personified, was seated on the chair of St. Peter, kings should
seek to unite themselves to it as closely as they could ? If
the valiant Peter of Arragon thought he could not better
secure the young independence of his crown than by crossing
the sea to lay it at the feet of Innocent, and to receive it as
a vassal from his hand if John of England, pursued by the
just indignation of his people, also proclaims himself the
vassal of that Church which he had so cruelly persecuted,
sure of finding there .that refuge and that pardon which men
denied him or if, besides those two kingdoms, those of
Navarre, of Portugal, of Scotland, of Hungary, and of Den-
mark, gloried in belonging, in some measure, to the Holy See
by a special bond of protection ? It was known to all that
Innocent respected the rights of kings, in regard to the
Church, as he did those of the Church herself against kings
Like his illustrious predecessors, he united to his love of
equity a lofty and sagacious policy. Like them, by opposing
the heirship of the empire in the house of Suabia, by main-
taining the freedom of elections in Germany, he saved that

SO INTRODUCTION.

noble country from monarchical centralization, which would
have changed its whole nature, and stifled the germs of that
prodigious intellectual fecundity of which she is justly proud.
Like them, by re-establishing and steadfastly defending the
temporal authority of the Holy See, he preserved tha
independence of Italy, as well as that of the Church. He
formed, by his precepts and his example, a whole generation
of Pontiffs, equally devoted to that independence, and worthy
of being his auxiliaries. Such were Stephen Langton in"
England, Henry of Gnesen in Poland, and Roderick of
Toledo in Spain, Foulquet of Toulouse, in the midst of here-
tics 5 or worthy of dying for that holy cause, like St. Peter
Parentice, and Peter de Castemeau.* The glorious life of
Innocent III. terminates with the famous Council of Lateran,
(1215,) which he conducted and presided over ; in which all
the relations of the Church were made fast ; in which the
judgments of God, having degenerated into an abuse of force,
were definitely abolished ; in which the paschal communion
was prescribed ; in which was established that criminal pro-
cessf which has served as a model for all secular tribunals ;
finally, wherein were introduced, so to speak, to the Christian
world, those two great orders of St. Dominick and St. Francis,
which were to infuse into it a new life. Innocent had the
glory and the consolation of seeing both these illustrious
orders spring up under his Pontificate. J

The successors of this great Pope were not unworthy of
him, and exhibited, for upwards of half a century, the sublime
spectacle of a struggle sustained, with faith and justice alone,

* Killed by the heretics, the former at Orvieto, in 1199 ; the latter in LangnedoQ
to 1209.

t In the eighth canon of this council.

J It is well known that M. Hurter a Protestant writer, has, by his Life of Inno-
cent Jfl. ar.d his Contemporaries, raised a monument to the glory of that great
Pontiff and the Church, and merits the gratitude of every friend of truth

INTRODUCTION-. 2

Against all the resources of genius and of human power, con
centrated in the Emperor Frederic II., and employed for th
success of material force. Honorius III. has first to contend
with that ungrateful ward of the Holy See. Mild and
patient, he seems placed between two stern and inflexible
combatants, Innocent III. and Gregory IX., as if to show
how far Apostolical meekness may go. He preached tc
kings his own gentleness ; he exhausted his treasury to furnish
the expenses of the Crusade. He had the happiness of con-
firming the three holy orders which were, in some manner, to
revive the fire of charity and faith in the heart of Christian
nations; the Dominicans (1226), the Franciscans (1223),
and the Carmelites (1226). Notwithstanding his mildness,
he was forced to place the Emperor for the first time under
the ban of the Church, leaving Gregory IX. to carry on the
contest. The latter, who was eighty years old when his brow
was encircled with the tiara (1227), showed, during his reign
of fifteen years, the most indomitable energy, as though he
grew young again in becoming the depository of the delegated
power- of the Eternal. He it was who was the friend and
protector of that St. Elizabeth who has brought us to the
study of this age ; he made her acquainted with St. Francis
of Assisium, whose heroic virtue she well knew how, to imi-
tate ; he protected her in her widowhood and cruel desertion ;
and when God had called her to Himself, he proclaimed her
right to the perpetual veneration of the faithful, and placed
her name upon the calendar. But he was, also, the protector
of the helpless and the oppressed in every rank of life ; and,
whilst he gave his support to the royal widow of Thuringia,
ae extended his paternal solicitude over the meanest serfs of
remotest Christendom, as shown by his letter to the Polish
uobles, wherein he bitterly reproaches them for wearing away
the life of their vassals, redeemed and ennobled by the blood
*f Christ, in training falcons or birds of prey. The zealoua

82 IN PRODUCTION.

friend of true science, he founds the University of Toulouse,
and has that of Paris re-established by St. Louis, not without
a wise protest against the encroachments of profane philoso-
phy on theology. By the collection of the Decrees, he has
the glory of giving the Church her code, which was then that
of society at large. The worthy nephew of Innocent III., he
always knew how to unite justice and firmness ; being recon-
ciled with Frederic II., after having at one time excommuni-
cated him, he sustained him with noble impartiality against
the revolt of his son, Henry (1235), and even against the
exacting demands of the Lombard cities, though they were
the most faithful allies of the Church (123?). When the
Emperor subsequently violates his most solemn engagements, "
and that he is once more obliged.to excommunicate him, how
beautiful it is to see that old man, almost an hundred years
and he is once more obMged to excommunicate him, how
beautiful it is to see that old man, almost an hundred years
old, bracing himself up for a desperate struggle, yet charging
be most careful of the prisoners ; then, when conquered and
abandoned by all, besieged in Home by Frederic, leagued with,
the Romans themselves against him, he finds at that terrible
moment, and in the bosom of human weakness, that strength
which belongs but to things divine. Taking forth the relics
of the holy Apostles, he has them carried in procession
through the city, and demands of the Romans whether they
will permit that sacred deposit to perish before their eyes,
since he could no longer defend them without their assist-
ance ; immediately their heart is touched they swear to
conquer or die for their holy Pontiff the Emperor is repulsed,
and the Church delivered.

After him came Innocent IV., (1242.) who, though up
to the very moment of his election a friend and partisan of
Frederic, is no sooner elected than he sacrifices all his former
ties to the august mission confided to him, and that admirable

I-NTHODUCTION. 23f

unity of purpose which had for two hundred years animated
all his predecessors. Persecuted, menaced, shut up between
the Imperial columns which, from Germany in the north, and
Sicily in the south, gather around the doomed city which is
now his prison. He must endeavour to escape. Where is he
to find an asylum ? Every sovereign in Europe, even St.
Louis, refuses to receive him. Happily, Lyons is free, and
belongs only to an independent Archbishop. There Innocent
assembles all the Bishops who could escape from the tyrant,
and his venerable brothers, the Cardinals ; to .the latter he
gives the scarlet hat, to denote that they should always be
ready to shed their blood for the Church; and then, from
that supreme tribunal which Frederic had himself invoked
and recognised, and before which his advocates came sol-
emnly to plead his cause, the fugitive Pontiff fulminates,
against the most powerful sovereign of that time, the sen-
tence of deposition, as the oppressor of religious liberty, the
spoiler, of the Church, a heretic and a tyrant. Glorious and
ever-memorable triumph, of right over might of faith over
material interest ! The third act of that sacred drama,
wherein 'St. Gregory VII. and Alexander III. had ajready
trampled under foot the rebellious element, amid the accla-
mations of saints and men ! We all know how Providence
took upon itself the ratification of this sentence ; we are
familiar with the fall of Frederic and his latter years, the
premature death of his son, and the total ruin of that formi-
dable raco.

As an admirable proof of the entire confidence placed
in the integrity of the Holy See, it is worthy of remark that,
as Frederic himself was left, when an orphan, in his cra-
dle, to the care of Innocent III., so the friends and allies
of his grandson, Conradine, the last of the house of Suabia,
would not intrust him to any other guardian than the very
Pontiff who had deposed his grandsire ; and who managed

S4 IUTJIODUOTIOK.

his trust loyally and well, till it was torn from his grasp bj
the perfidious Mainfroy.

The struggle continues against the latter, and all the othel
enemies of the Church, carried on with the same intrepidity,
the same perseverance, under Alexander IV., (1254,) a worthy
descendant of that family of Conti, which had already given
to the world Innocent III. and Gregory IX.; and after him,
under Urban IV., (1261,) that Shoemaker's son who, far
from being ashamed of his origin, had his father painted on
the church windows of Troves, working at his trade ; who
had the honour of , providing a new aliment for Catholic piety
by instituting the Feast of the Most Holy Sacrament (1264);
and who, unshaken in the midst of the greatest dangers, dies,
not knowing where to rest his head, but leaving to the
Church the protection of the brother of St. Louis, and a
French monarchy in the Sicilies. This conquest is completed
under Clement IV., who sues in vain for the life of Conradine,
the innocent and expiatory victim of the crimes of his family.
And thus ends for a while that noble war of the Church
against State oppression, which was to be renewed with far
different results, but not less gloriously, under Boniface VIII.

It must not be forgotten that, whilst these great Pontiffs
were carrying on this warfare to the very utmost, far from
being wholly engrossed by it, they gave to the internal organi-
zation of the Church, and of society, as much attention as
though they were in a state of profound peace. They con-
tinued, one after another, with invincible perseverance, the
colossal work wherewith they were charged since the fall of
the Roman empire the work of grinding and kneading
together all the divers elements of those Germanic and north-
ern tribes who had overrun and conquered Europe, distin-
guishing therein all that was good, pure, and salutary, in
order to sanctify and civilize it, and rejecting all that waf
truly barbarous At the same time, and with the same -on

INTRODUCTION. 25

itancy, did they propagate science and learning, placing taeni
rithin reach of all ; they consecrated the natural equality of
the human race, calling to the highest dignities of the Church
men born in the lowest classes, for whatever little learning or
rirtue they might have ; they fabricated and promulgated
the magnificent code of ecclesiastical legislation, and that
clerical jurisdiction, the benefits of which were the more sen-
gibly felt, inasmuch as it alone knew neither torture nor any
cruel punishment, and that . it alone made no exception of
persons amongst Christians.

It is true that, in the bosom of the Church which had
finch .chiefs, many human miseries were found mixed up with
so much greatness and sanctity ; it will always be so whilst
things divine are intrusted to mortal hands ; but we may be
allowed to doubt whether there was less at any other period,
and whether the rights of God and those of humanity were
defended with nobler courage, or by more illustrious cham-
pions.

In front of that majestic Church arose the second power,
before which the men of those times bent in homage ; . that
Holy Roman Empire, from which all secondary royalties
seemed to flow. Unhappily, since the end of the Saxon
dynasty, in the eleventh century, it had passed into the hands
of two families, in whom the great and pious spirit of Char-
lemagne was gradually extinguished those of Franconia and
Suabia. These substituted a new spirit, impatient of all
spiritual restraint, glorying only in the force of arms and the
feudal system, and always aiming at the amalgamation of the
two powers, absorbing the Church in the Empire. That fatal
purpose, defeated by St. Gregory VII., in the person of
Henry IV., and by Alexander III. in that of Frederick
Karbarossa, made a new effort in Frederick II. ; but he, too,
found his conquerors on the chair of St. Peter. This Frede*
rick II. occupied all that half-Kjentary which his reign almost

26 INTRODUCTION,

wholly embraces.* It seems to us impossible, even for tha
most prejudiced mind, not to be struck by the immense differ-
ence between the commencement of his reign, in the daya
when he was faithful to the Roman Church, which had so
carefully watched over his minority,f and the last twenty
years of his life, during which -the glory of his earlier years
was tarnished and their high promise cruelly blighted. No-
thing could be more splendid, more poetical, more grand, than
that imperial court presided over by a young and gallant
prince, endowed with every noble quality both of mind and
body an enthusiastic lover of the arts, of poetry, and of
literature ; himself acquainted with six languages, and well
versed in many of the sciences ; bestowing on the kingdom
of Sicily, whilst the Pope crowned him in Rome, (1220,) a
code of laws the wisest and best framed, and altogether re-
markable for their perfection ; and subsequently, after his
first reconciliation with the Holy See, publishing at Mayence
the first laws that Germany had had in its own tongue ; gath-
ering around him the flower of the chivalry of his vast domin-
ions, giving them the example of valour and poetic genius in
the royal halls of Sicily, wherein were brought together the
divers elements of Germanic, Italian and Eastern civilization.
It was this very mixture that caused his ruin. He would
have been, says a chronicler of those times, without an equal
on earth, had he but loved his own soul, but he had an unfor-
tunate predilection for Eastern life. He who was at one time
thought of as a husband for St. Elizabeth, when she was left
a widow, and who was actually a suitor for the hand of St.
Agnes of Bohemia, j soon after shut himself up in a disgraceful

* King of Sicily in 1193; Emperor in 1215; died In 1250.

' f Innocent III., Honorius III., and Gregory IX., bad, all threie, & share in bring-
ing him up the first as Pope, and the other two as Cardinals.

$ She refused him in order to become a Franciscan nun; the Emperer, o
hearing it, said: "If she had preferred any other man to me, I wtfiild
rvrengcd; bit t since she has only preferred God, I con say nothing-,"

%i'S'-'ii'; "~- : .~/' : .^ " -rT'r-'-'f"-" .;,;' " - - '-'..- r L - - , -'" '-' \" ' :' V' '"-.'/-'.,.'. "- "_ "- f . ; '.-."-. :..-'-" X '' '-'.'.'/-"""-'' '--".. '"" ;- - .. - '_ ~" ; ' ]> -.':,'*'.
V -':."v: :: -v - "":.^- -"-''-'"""' \ -->"''..' ';" --""'.-.' ".--'"' :-."'-" ' -'.-" - . " "-r '. - - -.- ' - . - : --

INTRODUCTION 2"7

lio, surrounded by Saracen guards. By the side of this
moral sensualism, be speedily proclaims a sort of political
materialism which was, at least, premature in the thirteenth
century. He shocks all the ideas of Christianity} by going
to the Holy Sepulchre as the ally*of the 'Mussulman princes,
and no longer as the conqueror of the Holy Land. On Ma
return to Europe, not satisfied with the magnificent position
of a Christian Emperor, the first amongst the mighty and the
powerful, and not the master of a multitude of slaves the
protector of the Church, and not her oppressor, he begins to
scatter amongst men the seeds of those fatal doctrines which
have since borne but too abundant fruit. Intoxicated by the
height of his power, like Louis XIV. and Napoleon in after
times, he could not endure the intervention of spiritual power j
and he caused his Chancellor, Peter des Vignes, to proclaim
that the disposal of all things, both human and divine, be-
longed of right to the Emperor. That age, however, was
still too Christian to tolerate such an invasion of the vital
force of Christianity. A far diiferent spirit was then required,
even in the lay power, to govern minds and convictions ; such
was found in St. Louis of France. Hence, we see this Fred-
eric, who, according to that holy king, had made war on Goa
with his own gifts, stricken with the anathemas of the Church,
progressing every day in cruelty, perfidy, and duplicity;* load-
ing his people with fines and taxes ; giving every reason to
doubt his faith by his excessive debauchery, and, finally, dying
in retirement at the extreme end of Italy, smothered by hig
own son, in the very midst of his Saracens, whose attachment
only served to make him suspected by Christians. Under hia
reign, as under those of his predecessors, Germany (which,
indeed, saw but little of him) was in a flourishing condition ;

* For irjrtance, the torture inflicted on the son of the Doge Tiepolo, on the Bishop
if Arezzo, and the imprisonment of the Cardinals who repaired to the Council
vMsh himself had demanded.

.28 INTRODUCTION.

she saw the power of the "Wittelsbachs grow in Bavaria ; sh
admired the splendour of the Austrian princes, Frederic the
Victorious, and Leopold the Glorious, whv was said to be
brave as a lion, and modest as a young virgin; she extolled
the virtues of the house of Thuringia, under the father-in-law
and the husband of St. Elizabeth; she saw in the Archbishop
Engelbert of Cologne a martyr to justice and public safety,
whom the Church hastened to enrol amongst her Saints, tier
cities, like those of the Low Countries, were developing them-
selves with a mighty and a fruitful individuality; Cologne and
Lubeck were at the height of their influence, and the famous
Hanse league was beginning to be formed. Her legislation
was grandly developed under the two dynasties of Saxony
and Suabia, together with a number of other local codes, all
based on respect for established rights and ancient liberties,
and breathing such a noble mixture of the Christian thought
with the elements of old Germanic right, yet unaltered by
the Ghibeline importation of the Roman right. In fine, she
already reckoned amongst her knights a true Christian mon-
arch ; for, under the shadow of the throne of the Hohen-
staufens, there was silently springing up, in the person of
Rodolph of Hapsburgh, a prince worthy to be the founder
of an imperial race, since he saved his country from anarchy,
and displayed to the world a fitting representative of Charle-
magne. It is easy to guess what his reigh must be, when, at
his consecration, finding no sceptre, he seized the crucifix on
the altar, and exclaimed, " Behold my sceptre ! I want no
other."

If the Empire seemed to have departed from its natural
course, it was in some measure replaced by France, who took
from her that character of sanctity and grandeur which was
to shed so much lustre on the Most Christian monarchy. Yet
she herself contained within her bosom a deep wound which
must be healed at any cost, if she wo'uld maintain her -unity,

INTRODUCTION.

and carry out her high destiny. We a.lucle to that nest of
heresies both anti-social and anti-religions which disgraced the
?outh, and had Its seat amount those corrupt masses known to
history as tlic Alb'genses. The world is now \vel! acquainted
\v th the character and the doctrines of those men, who were
worthily represented by princes whose debaucheries make ua
shudder, and who have been so long extolled by lying historians
at the expense of religion and truth. It is well known that thej
Were at least as much persecutors as they were persecuted;
and that they were the aggressors against the common law of
society at that time. Not only France, but even Spain and
JTtal y, would have been then lost" to faith and true civilization,
if the Crusade had not been victoriously preached against that
iniquitous centre of Pagan and Oriental doctrines. There is
no doubt that, in putting down that rebellion against Chris-
tianity, means were too often employed which Christian charitj
could not approve, and which were censured by the Holy See
even at the height of that fierce contest. But it is now
icknowledged that those cruelties were, at least, reciprocal;
and no one has yet, as far as we know, devised the means of
making war, and especially religious war, with mildness and
lenity. It is true that Simon de Montfort, who was, during
that terrible struggle, the champion of Catholicity, did some-
what tarnish his glory by a too great ambition and .a severity
which we cannot excuse ; bat enough remains to warrant
Catholics in publishing his praise. There are few characters
in history so great as his, whether in energy, perseverance,
courage, or contempt of death; and when we think of the
fervour and humility of his piety, the inviolable purity of his
morals, with that inflexible devotion to ecclesiastical authority,
which made him retire alone from the camp of the Crusaders
before Zara, because the Pope had forbidden him to make war
on Christians, we may then make allowance for his feelings
towards those who disturbed the peace of consciences an/

30 INTRODUCTION.

overturned all the barriers of morality. His own character
and that of his age are conjointly depicted in the words which
he pronounced when about to undertake an unequal contest.
"The whole Church prays for me 1 cannot fail " And again,
when pursued by the enemy, and having, with his cavalry,
crossed a river which the infantry could not pass, he went
back again with five men only, crying out: " The little ones
of Christ are exposed to death, and shall I remain in safety ?
Let God's will be done I must certainly stay with them."

The decisive battle of Muret (1212), which secured the
triumph of faith, likewise shows the nature of that struggle,
by the contrast of the two leaders; on the one side, de Mont-
brt, at the head of a handful of men, seeking in prayer and
/he sacraments the right of demanding a victory, which could
puly come by miracle ; on the other, Peter of Arragon, coming
there, enfeebled by debauchery, to fight and be slain in the
midst of his numerous army.

Whilst this struggle was drawing to a close, and preparing
for the direct reunion of the conquered provinces with the
crown of France, a king worthy of his surname Philip Au-
gustus was investing that crown with the first rays of that
glory and that moral influence, " based on religion," which it
was so long to maintain. While still young, he was as\ed
what it was that occupied his mind during his long and fre-
quent reveries ? " I am thinking," he replied, "of the means
of restoring to Prance the power and the glory which she had
under Charlemagne," and during his long and glorious reign
he never ceased to show himself faithful to that great thought.
The reunion of Normandy and the provinces, wrested away by
the unprincipled John Lackland, laid the first foundation of
the power of the French monarchs. After having done his
best for the cause of Christ in the Crusades, he showed him-
jelf, during his whole life, the friend and faithful supporter of
the Church; and he proved it by the most painful sacrifice^

INTRODUCTION. 3i

In overcoming his rooted aversion for the wife whom Roma
imposed upon him. Reconciled with his people through hia
reconciliation with her, he soon after received his reward from
heaven, in the great victory of Bouvines (1215;) a victory as
much religious as national, obtained over the enemies of the
Church as over those of France. This is sufficiently proved
by all that historians have transmitted to us, regarding the
impious projects of the confederates, who were all excommu-
nicated by the fervent prayers of the priests during the bat-
tle, and by the noble words of Philip to his soldiers " The
Church prays for us: I am going to fight for her, for France,
and for you." Around him fought all the heroes of French
chivalry -Matthieu de Montmorency, Enguerrand de Coney,
Q uillaume des Barres, and Gruerin de Senlis, at the same tima
pontiff, minister, and warrior. The enemy being defeated, they
joined their king in founding, in honour of the Blessed Virgin,
the abbey of Notre Dame de la Yictoire, intended to consecrate,
by the name of the Virgin, the memory of a triumph which
had saved the independence of France.

The greatness of the French Monarchy, and its sway over
the southern provinces which it was finally to absorb, contin-
ued to increase under the short but prosperous reign of Louis
VIII., and under the brilliant regency of Blanche of Castile
thdt most tender mother and wise sovereign who said she
would rather see all her children dead than to know them
to be guilty of one mortal sin, and who was 'not less solicitous
for their temporal than their spiritual welfare , Blanche, the
worthy object of the romantic love of Thibaut de Champagne,
the poet-king, and who had such a tender devotion for our St.
Elizabeth. This regency worthily announces the reign of St.
Louis, that model of kings, to whom the historian's mind re-
verts as, perhaps, the most accomplished personage of modern
times, whilst the Christian venerates him as having possessed
avery virtue that can merit heaven. While reading the history

S8 INTRODUCTION.

sl.e saw the power of the "Wittelsbachs grow in Bavaria ; sh
admired the splendour of the Austrian princes, Frederic the
Victorious, and Leopold the Glorious, who was said to be
brave <rs a lion, and modest as a young virgin ; she extolled
the virtues of the house of Thuringia, under the father-in-law
and the husband of St. Elizabeth; she saw in the Archbishop
Eugelbcrt of Cologne a martyr to justice and public safety,
whom the Church hastened to enrol amongst her Saints. tier
cities, like those of the Low Countries, were developing them-
selves with a mighty and a fruitful individuality; Cologne and
Lubeck were at the height of their influence, and the famous
Hanse league was beginning to be formed. Her legislation
was grandly developed under the two dynasties of Saxony
and Suabia, together with a number of other local codes, all
based on respect for established rights and ancient liberties,
and breathing such a noble mixture of the Christian thought
with the elements of old Germanic right, yet unaltered by
the Ghibeline importation of the Roman right. In fine, she
already reckoned amongst her knights a true Christian mon-
arch ; for, under the shadow of the throne of the Hohen-
Btaufens, there was silently springing up, in the person of
Rodolph of Hapsburgh, a prince worthy to be the founder
of an imperial race, since he saved his country from anarchy,
and displayed to the world a fitting representative of Charle-
magne. It is easy to guess what his reign must be, when, at
his consecration, finding no sceptre, he seized the crucifix ou
the altar, and exclaimed, " Behold my sceptre ! I want no
other."

INTRODUCTION. 29

carry out her high destiny. We a.lude to that nest of
heresies both anti-social and anti-religious which disgraced the
south, and had Its seat amount those corrupt masses known to
history as the Alb'genses. The world is now well acquainted
\v tli the character and the doctrines of those men, who were
worthily represented by princes whose debaucheries make us
sh-idder, and who have been so long extolled by lying historians
at the expense of religion and truth. It is well known that they
Were at least as much persecutors as they were persecuted;
and that they were the aggressors against the common law of
society at that time. Not only France, but even Spain and
Italy, would have been then lost" to faith and true civilization,
if the Crusade had not been victoriously preached against that
iniquitous centre of Pagan and Oriental doctrines. There is
no doubt that, in putting down that rebellion against Chris-
tianity, means were too often employed which Christian charitj
could not approve, and which were censured by the Holy See
even at the height of that fierce contest. But it is now
icknowledged that those cruelties were, at least, reciprocal;
and no one has yet, as far as we know, devised the means of
making war, and especially religious war, with mildness and
lenity. It is true that Simon de Montfort, who was, during
that terrible struggle, the champion of Catholicity, did some-
what tarnish his glory by a too great ambition and a severity
which we cannot excuse ; but enough remains to warrant
Catholics in publishing his praise. There are few characters
in history so great as his, whether in energy, perseverance,
courage, or contempt of death; and when we think of the
fervour and humility of his piety, the inviolable purity of his
morals, with that inflexible devotion to ecclesiastical authority,
which made him retire alone from the camp of the Crusadera
before Zara, because the Pope had forbidden him to make war
on Christians, we may then make allowance for his feelings
towards those who disturbed the peace of consciences aw 1

30 INTRODUCTION.

overturned all the barriers of morality. His own charactei
and that of his age are conjointly depicted in the words which
he pronounced when about to undertake an unequal contest.
"The whole Church prays for me I cannot fail " And again,
when pursued by the enemy, and having, with his cavalry.
crossed a river which the infantry could not pass, he went
back again with five men only, crying out: "The little onea
of Christ are exposed to death, and shall I remain in safety ?
Let God's will be done I must certainly stay with them."

The decisive battle of Muret (1212), which secured the
triumph of faith, likewise shows the nature of that struggle,
by the contrast of the two leaders; on the one side, de Mont-
!brt, at the head of a handful of men, seeking in prayer and
/he sacraments the right of demanding a victory, which could
only come by miracle ; on the other, Peter of Arragon, coming
there, enfeebled by debauchery, to fight and be slain in the
midst of his numerous army.

Whilst this struggle was drawing to a close, and preparing
for the direct reunion of the conquered provinces with the
crown of France, a king worthy of his surname Philip Au-
gustus was investing that crown with the first rays of that
glory and that moral influence, " based on religion," which it
was so long to maintain. While still young, he was asTsed
what it was that occupied his mind during his long and fre-
quent reveries? "I am thinking," he replied, "of the means
of restoring to France the power and the glory which she had
under Charlemagne," and during his long and glorious reign
he never ceased to show himself faithful to that great thought.
The reunion of Normandy and the provinces, wrested away by
the unprincipled John Lackland, laid the first foundation of
the power of the French monarchs. After having done hia
best for the cause of Christ in the Crusades, he showed him-
aelf, during his whole life, the friend and faithful supporter of
the Church; and he proved it by the most painful sacrifice,

INTRODUCTION. Si

in overcoming his rooted aversion for the wife whom Rome
imposed upon him. Reconciled with his people through hia
reconciliation with her, he soon after received his reward from
heaven, in the great victory of Bouvines (1215;) a victory as
much religious as national, obtained over the enemies of the
Church as over those of France. This is sufficiently proved
by all that historians have transmitted to us, regarding the
impious projects of the confederates, who were all excommu-
nicated by the fervent prayers of the priests during the bat-
tle, and by the noble words of Philip to his soldiers " The
Church prays for us: I am going to fight for her, for France,
and for you." Around him fought all the heroes of French
chivalry -Matthieu de Montmorency, Enguerrand de Coney,
Guillamne des Barres, and Gruerin de Senlis, at the same tiraa
pontiff, minister, and warrior. The enemy being defeated, they
joined their king in founding, in honour of the Blessed Virgin,
the abbey of Notre Dame de la Victoire, intended to consecrate,
by the name of the Virgin, the memory of a triumph which
had saved the independence of France.

The greatness of the French Monarchy, and its sway over
the southern provinces which it was finally to absorb, contin-
ued to increase under the short but prosperous reign of Louis
VIII., and under the brilliant regency of Blanche of Castile
that most tender mother and wise sovereign who said she
would rather see all her children dead than to know them
to be guilty of one mortal sin, and who was 'lot less solicitous
for their temporal than their spiritual weltare , Blanche, the
worthy object of the romantic love of Thibaut de Champagne,
the poet-king, and who had such a tender devotion for our St.
Elizabeth. This regency worthily announces the reign of St.
Louis, that model of kings, to whom the historian's mind re
verts as, perhaps, the most accomplished personage of modern
times, whilst the Christian venerates him. as having possessed
uvery virtue that can merit heaven. While reading the history

82 INTRODUCTION.

of that life, at once so touching and so sublime, we ask if ever
the King of heaven had on earth a more faithful servant than
that angel, crowned for a time with a mortal crown, in order
to show the woi*ld how man can transfigure himself by charity
and faith. What Christian heart is there that does not throb
with admiration, while considering the character of St Louis ?
that sense of duty so strong and so pure, that lofty and most
scrupulous love of justice, that exquisite delicacy of conscience,
which induced him to repudiate the unlawful acquisitions of his
predecessors, even at the expense of the public safety, and the
affection of his subjects that unbounded love of his neigh-
bour, which filled his whole heart; which, after pouring itself
out on his beloved wife, his mother and his brothers, whose
death he so bitterly mourned, extended itself to all classes of
his subjects, inspired him with a tender solicitude for the souls
of others, and conducted him in his leisure moments to the
cottage of the poor, whom he himself relieved! Yet, with all
these saintly virtues, he was brave even to rashness; he was at
once the best knight and the best Christian in France, as he
showed at Taillebourg and at Massoure. It was because death
had no terrors for him, whose life was devoted to the service
of God and his justice; who spared not even Jris own brother
when he violated its holy rules; who was not ashamed, before
his departure for the Holy Land, to send mendicant monks
throughout his kingdom, in order to inquire of the meanest of
his subjects if any wrong had been done them in the king's
name, and if so, to repair it immediately at his expense. Hence,
as though he were the impersonation of supreme justice, he
is chosen as the arbitrator in all the greatest questions of
his time between the Pope and the Emperor between the
English barons and their king a captive in the hands of the
infidels, he is still taken as judge. Drawn twice by his love
of Christ to the land of the barbarians, he first meets cap-
tivity, and then death a species of martyrdom it was the

INTRODUCTION. S3

only martyrdom he could have obtained the only deatl .'.hat
was worthy of him. Oa his death-bed he dictates to fc / son
his memorable instructions, the finest words ever spok n by
the mouth of a king.

Just before he -expired, he was heard to murmur -" O
Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" Was it the heavenly or the e rthly
Jerusalem that he thus apostrophized in regret, or in s' oli ne
hope ? H* would not enter the latter by treaty, and w > at
his army, lest his example should authorize other Ch isl.an
kings to do the -same. But they did better: not one wvnt
there after him. He was the last of the Crusader ki igs
the truly Christian kings the last, and assuredly the gr< atest.
He has left us two immortal monuments his oratory ai.d his
tomb the Holy Chapel and St. Denis both of them pure,
simple, and pointing heavenward like himself. But he left one
still fairer and more lasting in the memory of the nations
the oak of Yincennes.

In England, the perverse race of the Norman kings all
oppressors of their people, and furious oppressors of the Church
had only to oppose to Philippe Auguste the infamous John
Sans Terre (Lack-land), and to St. Lonis only the pale and
"feeble Henry III. But if royalty is there at its lowest ebb,
the Church shines in all her splendour, and the- nation suc-
cessfully defends her most important rights. The Church had
been happily blessed in England with a succession of great
men in the primatial see of Canterbury, perhaps unequa r ed in
her annals. Stephen Langton was, under the reign of J'hn,
the worthy representative of Innocent III., and the wor iy
successor of St: Dunstan, de Lanfranc, St. Anselm. and St.
Thomas a Becket. After having courageously defended the
ecelesiasl ical priviioges, he places himself at the head of the
insurgent barons, and raised an army for God and the hnl$
Church, which forced from the king that famous Maqna
Charta the basis of that English constitution which tha
'2*

84 INTRODUCTION.

moderns have BO much admired, forgetting, doubtless, that it
was but the effect of feudal organization, and that this very
charter, far from being an innovation, was only the re-establish-
ment of the laws of St. Edward, a confirmation of the public
right in Europe at that time, founded -on the maintenance
of all ancient and individual rights. .Under Henry III., who
was oiily kept on his tottering throne by the power of the
Holy See preventing the reunion with France, ^fhieh would
have followed the conquest of the son of Philip Augustus,
the Church had then, too, her courageous defenders, and her
noble victims, in St. Edmund of Canterbury, who died in exile
in 1242, and St. Richard of Winchester; and the nation ac-
complished the achievement of her liberties, under the leader-
ship of the noble son of Simon dc Moutfort, brave and pious
as his father, who was defeated and killed at the end of his
career, but not before he had made that popular war a
Crusade, and introduced the delegates of the people into
the first political assembly which bore that name, since so
glorious the British Parliament (1258.)

About the same time, there was seen in Scotland the
pious King William, an ally of Innocent III., commanding
that all labourers should rest from their toil on the after-
noon of every Saturday; this in order to testify his love
of God and the Blessed Virgin (1202.) tn the Scan-
dinavian kingdoms, the thirteenth century commences under
the great Archbishop Absolom de Lund (1201) an intrepid
warrior and a holy pontiff the benefactor and civilizer of
those northern tribes. Sweden was progressing under the
grandson of Si- Eric; and Norway, which had retained the
mont traces of the old Germanic constitution, was' enjoying
unwonted peace, under Haquiri V. (121T-1263), her princi-
pal legislator. Waldemar the Victorious (1202-1252), tho
most illustrious ojf the kings of Denmark, extended his empire
over all the southern coasts of the Baltic, and preluding th

INTRODUCTION. 39

union of Calinar, conceived, and was on the point of execu-
ting, the grand project of uniting, under one chief, all the
countries bordering on the Baltic, when the battle of Born-
hoveden (1227) gave the Germanic tribes the supremacy over
the Scandinavians. " But, throughout all his conquests, he
never lost sight of the conversion of heathen nations, of which
he was constantly reminded by the Holy See. His exertions
for the propagation of the faith in Livonia were seconded by
those of the order of Porte-Grlaius, founded solely for tha/
purpose in "1203, and afterwards by those of the Teutonic
knights. The removal of the chief strength of this last order
into Prussia, in order to implant Christianity there (1234),
is an immense fact in the history of religion and of the civili-
zation of Northern Europe. If human passions found their
way all too soon into that Crusade, which lasted for two cen-
turies, we still must bear in mind that it was only through it
that Christianity found its way amongst those obstinate and
self-willed tribes, while, at the same time, we must admire
what the Popes did to soften the rule of the conquerors.*

Casting our eye along the same geographical line, we see
Poland already manifesting the foundations of the orthodox
kingdom :~\ Archbishop Henry of Gnesen, the legate of Inno-
cent III., restored discipline and ecclesiastical, freedom, despite
the opposition of Duke Ladislaus : St. Hedwige, aunt of our
Elizabeth, seated on the Polish throne, gave the example of
the most austere virtues, and offered up, as a holocaust, her
son, who died a martyr for the faith, fighting against the
Tartars. Poland, presenting an -impassable barrier against
the advance of those terrible hordes, who had enslaved Rus-
sia, and overrun Hungary, poured out rivers of her best blood

* In 1219, a legate from the Pope went to Prussia, to secure to the conquered
people the freedom of marriage and successions, &c.
t The title since given by the Popos to Poland.

36 INTRODUCTION.

during all that century thus preparing* to become, what' she
has ever since been, the glorious martyr of Christendom.

Descending once more towards the south of Europe, and
contemplating that Italy which was wont to be the most
brilliant and the most active of the Christian nations, the soul
is at ft rst saddened at the sight of those cru.el and intermina-
ble struggles of the Guelphs and Qhibelines, and all that vast
empire of hatred which diffused itself throughout the laud
under favour of that war of principles in which those parties
had their origin. It is this fatal element of hatred which seems
to predominate at every period of the history of Italy. It
was connected with a certain pagan and egotistical policy a
lingering memory of the old Roman republic, which prevailed
in Italy, through all the middle ages, over that of the Church
or the Empire, and blinded the Italians in a great degree to
the salutary influence of the Holy See, whose first subjects
they should have been, and whose power and devotion they
had a good opportunity of appreciating, during the long con-
test between the Emperors and the Lombard cities. But,
however disgusted we may be by those dissensions which rend
the very heart of Italy, we cannot help admiring the physical
and moral energy, the ardent patriotism, the profound convic-
tions impressed on the history of every one of the innumerable
republics which cover its surface. We are amazed at that
incredible fecundity of monuments, institutions, foundations,
great men of all kinds, warriors, poets, artists, whom we
behold springing up in each of those Italian cities, now so
desolate and forlorn. Never, assuredly, since the classic ages
of ancient Greece, was there seen such a mighty development
of human will, such a marvellous value given to man and his
works, so much life in so small a space I But when we think
of the prodigies of sanctity which the thirteenth century saw
in Italy, we easily understand the bond which kept all those
impetuous souls together, we remember that river of Christian

INTRODUCTION. 37

charity which flowed on, deep and incommensurable, under
those wild storms and raging seas. In the midst of that uni-
versal confusion, cities grow and flourish, their population is
often tenfold what it now is masterpieces of art are pro-
duced commerce every day increases and science makes
till more rapid progress. Unlike the Germanic States, all
political and social existence is concentrated with the nobles
.in the cities, none of which, however, was then so predominant
as to absorb the life of the others ; and this free concurrence
amongst them may explain, in part, the unheard of strength
which they had at command. The league of the Lombard
cities, flourishing since the peace of Constance, successfully
withstood all the efforts of the imperial power. The Crusades
had given an incalculable stimulus to the commerce and pros-
perity of the maritime republics of Grenoa and Venice ; the
latter, especially, under her doge, Henry Dandola, a blind
old hero of four score, became a power of the first ordei by
the conquest of Constantinople, and that quarter and half of
the Eastern Empire, of which she was so long proud. The
league of the Tuscan cities, sanctioned by Innocent III., gave
new security to the existence of those cities whose history
equals that of the greatest empires the cities of Pisa, Lucca,
and Sienna, which solemnly made themselves over to the
Blessed Yirgiu before the glorious victory of Arbia, and
Florence especially, perhaps the most interesting coalition of
modern times. At every page of the annals of these cities,
one finds the mos't touching instances of piety, and of the
most elevated patriotism. To quote but one amongst a thou*
sand, when we see people complain, like those of Perrara,
that they are not taxed heavily enough for the wants of the
country, we cannot bring ourselves to be severe on institu-
tions which allow of such a degree of disinterestedness and
patriotism. By the side of this purely Italian movement, it
is certain that the great struggle between the spiritual and

88 INTRODUCTION.

the temporal power was nowhere so manifested as there ;
and, indeed, the latter, reduced to the necessity of being rep-
resented by the atrocious Eccelin, the lieutenant of Frede-
rick II., sufficiently demonstrates the moral superiority of the
cause of the Church. The South of Italy, under the sceptre
of the house of Suabia, was indebted to Frederick II. and his
Chancellor, Pierre des Vignes, for the benefit of a wise and
complete legislation, with all the splendour of poetry and the
arts ; but at the same time it was overrun, through that E-m-
peror and his son, Mainfroi, with Saracen colonies, until
Rome called in a new French race the house of Anjou
which came, like the brave Normans of old, to maintain the
independence of the Church, and close that gate of Europe
against the infidels.

But if the Catholic historian has much to deplore in study-
ing the history of Italy, he finds in the Spain of the thirteenth
century an object of unmixed admiration. That was, in every
respect, the heroic age of that most noble nation, the age in
which it gained both its territory and independence, with the
glorious title of the Catholic monarchy. Of the two great
divisions of the Peninsula, we first see in Aragon, after that
Peter III., whom we have seen voluntarily holding his crown
from Innocent III., and yet dying at Muret in arms against
the Church, his sou, Don James the Conqueror, whose wife
was a sister of St. Elizabeth, who won his surname by taking
Majorca and Valencia from the Moors, who wrote, like Csesar
his own chronicle, and who, during a reign of sixty-four yeai-i
of unceasing warfare, was never conquered, gained thirty
victories, and founded two thousand churches. In Castile,
the century opens with the reign of Alphonso the Short,
founder of the order of St. James, and of the University of
Salamanca. Those two great events redound to the fame
of the illustrious Roderick Ximenes, Archbishop of Toledo
(1208-1215), the worthy precursor of him who was, two

INTRODUCTION. 39

sj later, to immortalise tlie same name ; he was, like
many ot the prelates of that age, an intrepid warrior, a pro-
found p'>lHician, an eloquent preacher, a faithful historian,
and a bountiful almoner. This king and his primate were the
heroes of the sublime achievement of las Navas de Toloso
(I6th July, 1212,) when Spain did for Europe what France
bad done uhder Charles Martel, and what Poland afterwards
did under John Sobieski, when she saved her from the irrup-
tion of four hundred thousand Mussulmans, coming on her
from the rear. The sway of the Crescent was broken in that
glorious engfer^ement the true type of a Christian battle
consecrated ii>. the memory of the people by many a miracu-
lous tradition, and which the great Pope Innocent III. could
not worthily <-elebrate but by instituting the feast of the
Triumph of iht Cross, which is even now solemnised on that
day in Spain, .llphonso was succeeded by St. Ferdinand,
a contemporary ind cousin-german of St. Louis, who was no
disgrace to his illustrious kindred, for, like St. Louis, he
united all the rt^rits of the Christian warrior to all the vir-
tues of the Saint, and the most tender love for his people
with the most ardent love for God. He would never consent
to load his people with new taxes : " God will otherwise pro-
vide for. our defence," said he, " I am more afraid of the curse
of one poor woman than of all the Moorish host." And yet
he carries on, with unequalled success, the work of national
enfranchisement ; he takes Cordova, the seat of the Caliphate
of the West, and after having dedicated the. principal mosque
to the Blessed Virgin, he brings back to Compostella, on the
shoulders of the Moors, the bells which the Caliph Almanzor
nad forced the Christians to carry away from it. Conquering
the kingdom of Murcia in 1240, that of Jaen in 1246, of Se-
ville again in 1248, he left the Moors only Grenada : but
humble in the midst of all his glcry, and extended on his bed
of death, he weeping exclaims : " O my lord ! Thou hast

-'V-' ^vt r '^*'-"W>'^^^

40 INTRODUCTION.

Buffered so much for love of me ! and I unhappy that I am!
what have I done for love of thee T'

Spain had her permanent crusade on her own soil ; the
rest of Europe went afar to seek it, either northward against
the barbarians, or southward against the heretics, or east-
ward against the profaners of the Holy Sepulchre. That
great thought prevailed from time to time over ail local ques-
tions, all personal passions, and absorbed them all into one.
It expired only with St. Louis ; and was still in all its vigour
during the first half of the thirteenth century. In its. opening
years, Foulques of Neuilly the rival of Peter the Hermit
and of St. Bernard, in eloquence and power of persuasion
going from tournament to tournament, makes all the French
chivalry take up the Cross. An army of barons embarks at
Venice, and in passing overthrows the empire of Byzantium,
as the first stage to Jerusalem. Notwithstanding the disap-
proval of Innocent III., founded on strict equity, we cannot
dispute the grandeur of this astonishing conquest, nor even
the Christian sentiment by which it was inspired. We always
see the French knights laying down, as the basis of their ne-
gotiations, the reunion of the Greek Church with Rome, and
making it the first result of their victory. This conquest was,
moreover, but a just chastisement inflicted on the Greek Em-
perors for their perfidy, in having always betrayed the cause
of the Crusades, and on their degenerate and sanguinary peo- '
pie, who were ever either the slaves or the assassins of their
princes. Although the idea of the Crusade, bearing on dif-
ferent directions, must necessarily lose much of its force, yet
that force is revealed to us by all those generous princes, who
did not think their life complete until they had-seen the Holy
Land ; such were Thibaut de Champagne, who celebrated
that expedition in yuch noble verses ; the holy Duke Louis,
husband of our Elizabeth, whom we shall see die on the wayj
Leopold of Austria, and even the king of distant Norway,

INTRODUCTION. 41

nrho would go in company with St. Louis The wives of
these noble knights hesitated not to accompany them on
these distant pilgrimages, and there were almost as many
princesses as princes in the camps of the Crusaders. Even
boys were carried away by the general enthusiasm ; and it ia
an affecting sight to see that crusade of boys in 1212 from
all parts of Europe whose result was most fatal, for they all
perished but still it was a striking proof of that love of
sacrifice, of that exclusive devotion to creeds and convictions,
which actuated the men of those times from the cradle to the
grave. What those boys had attempted in their early age,
worn-out old men failed not to undertake ; witness that Jean
de Brienne, king of Jerusalem, who, after a whole life conse-
crated to the defence of faith and the Church, even against
his own son-in-law, Frederick II., sets out when upwards of
four-score, to undertake the defence of the new Latin empire
of the East ; after . almost miraculous success, he expires at
the age of eighty-nine, worn out by conquest still more than
by age, having first stripped off the imperial purple and his
glorious armour, to assume the habit of St. Francis, and to die
under that insignia of a last victory (1237.)-

Besides these individual manifestations of zeal, Europe
once more welcomed the appearance of that permanent militia
of the Cross, the three great military orders, the martial
brotherhoods of the Temple, of St. John of Jerusalem, and
St. Mary of the Germans. These last had for their grand
master, during the first years of the thirteenth century,
Hermann de Saltza, famous for his noble and indefatigable
efforts to reconcile the Church and the Empire, and under
whose government the first expedition of the Teutonic knights
into Russia took place, whilst one of the principal seats of
the Order, and subsequently its capital, was near the tomb
of St. Elizabeth of Marbourg.

Thus then, in the East, the taking of Constantinople, and

i \ ^ o 1 1) c T

the overthrow of the Greek Empire b;y a "handful of Franks;
in Spain, las Navas tie Tolosa by St. 1'erdinand ; in France,
Bouvines and St. Louis ; in Germany, the glory and the fall
of the Hohenstaufen line ; in England, the Magna Charta ;
at the summit of the Christian world, the great Innocent III.
and his heroic successors ; this is sufficient, it seems to us, to
assign to the time of St. Elizabeth, a memorable place in the
history of humanity. If we seek its fundamental ideas, it
will be easy to find them, on one side, in the magnificent
unity of that Church whom nothing escaped ; who proclaimed,
in her most august mysteries as in her smallest details, the
final supremacy of mind over matter ; who consecrated, with
wise and paternal solicitude, the law of equality amongst men;
and who, by securing to the meanest serf the liberty of mar-
riage and the inviolable sanctity of the family by assigning
him a place in her temples by the side of his masters but,
above all, by giving him free access to the highest spiritual
Dignities, placed an infinite difference between his condition
and that of the most favoured slave of antiquity. Then over
against her rose the lay power the Empire royalty often
profaned by the evil passions of those who exercised them,
but restrained by a thousand bonds within the ways of charity,
meeting at every turn the barriers erected by faith and the
Church ; not having yet learned to delight in those general
legislatures which too often crush down the genius of nations
to the level of a barren uniformity; charged, on the contrary,
to watch over the maintenance of all the individual rights
and holy customs of other days, as over the regular develop-
ment of local wants and particular inclinations ; finally, pre-
siding over that grand feudal system which was wholly based
on the sentiment of duty as involving right, and which gave
to obedience all the dignity of virtue and all the devotion of
affection. The horrors perpetrated by John Lackland, during
his long contest with the Church, the miserable decrepitude
of the Byzp-ntine Empire, clearly show what tlfe lay powr

INTRODUCTION. 43

would have been if left to itself, whilst its alliance with the
Church gave, to the world crowned saints like St. Louis of
France, and St. Ferdinand of Spain kings whose equals
have never since appeared.

So cinch for the political and social life of those times.
The life of faith and of the soul the interior life in as far
as we can separate it from the foregoing, presents a spectacle
grand 3r and more marvellous still, and is much more nearly
approximated to the life of the saint whose virtues we have
attempted to pourtray. By the side of those great events
which change the face of empires, we shall see revolutions
greater and far more lasting in the spiritual order ; by the
side of those illustrious warriors those royal saints, we shall
see the Church bring forth and send abroad for the salvation
of souls, invincible conquerors and armies of saints drawn
from every grade of Christian society.

In fact, there was a great corruption of morals creeping in
amongst Christians ; fostered in heresies of various kinds, it
rose up with a threatening aspect on every side ; piety and
fervour were relaxed j the great foundations of the preceding
.iges, Cluny, Citeaux, Preniontre, the Chartreux, were no
longer sufficient to vivify the masses, whilst, in the schools,
the very sources of Christian life were too often dried up by
harsh, arid lop;ic. The disease of Christendom required some
new and sovereign remedy ; its benumbed limbs required a
violent shock ; strong arms and 5 tout hearts were required
at the helm. This necessary and much-desired succour was
speedily sent by God, who has sworn never to desert Hia
pouse, and never will desert her.

They were, indeed, prophetic visions wherein Innocent III.
and Honorius III. saw the basi'lc of Latrah, the mother and
the cathedral of all Chript)Vj. Churches,* about to fall, and

* We read in the Iwrty'Afa. the sole retrains of the ancient front, on the modern
portal of St. John of Lafsa'i: "Pogmati papali datue ac sirnul imperial!, quod sins
*uncterum mater et esput waeBiarum," &c.

44 INTRODUCTION..

supported either by an Italian friar or a poor Spanish priest,
Behold him ! behold that priest descending from thr Pyre-
nees into the south of France, overrun by heretics going
barefoot through briers and thorns to preach to them. It if
the great St. Dominic de Guzman,* whom his mother saw
before his birth, under the form of a dog carrying a blazing
torch in his mouth prophetic emblem of his vigilance and
burning zeal for the Church ; a radiant star was shining on
his brow when he was presented for baptism ; be grew up in
holiness and purity, having no other love than that divine
Virgin whose mantle seemed to him to cover all the heavenly
country; his hands exhale a perfume which inspire chastity in
all who approach him; he is mild, affable, and humble towards
all ; he has the gift of tears in great abundance ; he sells
even the books of his library to relieve the poor ; he would-
even sell himself to redeem a captive from the heretics. But,
in order to save all tile souls who were exposed to such im-
minent peril, he conceives the idea of a religious order, no
longer cloistered and sedentary, but wandering all over the
world seeking impiety to confound it ; an order to act as
preachers of the faith. He goes to Rome, in order to have
his saving project confirmed ; and, on the first night after his
arrival, he has a dream, in which he sees Christ preparing to
strike the guilty world ; but Mary interferes, and, in order to
appease her son, presents to him Dominick himself and another
person unknown to him. Next day, going into a church, he
sees there a man in tattered garments, whom he recognises as
the companion who had been given him by the Mother of the
Iledeemer. He instantly throws himself into his arms: " Thoo
art my brother," said he, " and dqst run the same course with
me; let us work together, and no man can prevail against as."
from that moment, the two had but one heart and one

* Born In 11TO; began to preach in 1200* died U 1281.

INTRODUCTION. - 45

soul. That mendicant was St. Francis of Assisiuni, " the
glorio -S beggar.ot' Christ."

He, too, hnd conceived the idea of re-conqnering the world
by humility and love, by becoming the minor the least of
all men. T^e undertakes to restore her spouse to that divine
poverty, widowed since the death of Christ. At the age of
twsraty-five, he breaks asunder all the ties of family, of
"honour, of propriety, and descends from his mountain of
Assisium to offer to the world the" most perfect example of
the folly of the Cross which it had seen since the planting of
that Cross on Calvary. But, far from repelling the world by
fchat folly, he overcomes it. The more that sublime fool de-
grades himself voluntarily to the end that, by his humility
and contempt of men, he may be worthy of becoming the
vessel of love the more his greatness shines forth arid pene-
trates afar oft 7 , the more eagerly all men press on in his foot-
steps ; some ambitious to strip themselves of all like him,
others anxious, at least, to hear his inspired words. In vain
does he go to seek martyrdom in Egypt ; the East sends him
back to the West, which he is to fructify, not with his blood,
but with that river of love which escaped from his heart, and
with those five wounds which had been impressed upon his
pure body by Him who loved the world even unto death.
Francis, too, embraced the whole world in his fervent loVe ;
first, all mankind, whom he loved to excess : " If I did not
gi^e," said he, as he stripped off his only garment to cover a
poor man " If I did not give what I wear to him who was
in more need of it than myself, I should be accused of robbery
by the Great Almoner in heaven." Then all nature, animate
an-d inanimate, every creature, is to him as a brother or
.a sister, o whom he preaches the Word of their common
Father, whom he would fain deliver from the oppression of
aian, and whose pains he would, if possible, relieve. " Why,*
said he ta a butcher, "why do you hang and torture my

46 INTRODUCTION.

brethren, the lambs?" And to captive birds "Ye doves,
my dear little sisters, simple, innocent and pure, why did you
allow yourselves to be caught thus ?" " He knew," says hia
biographer, a Saint, like himself, " that all creatures had "the
same origin as he ; and he proved, by his tenderness towards
them, as well as by their miraculous obedience towards him
what man, victorious over sin and restored to his natural con-
nection with God, can do for that nature which is only de-
graded on his account and looks to him for its restoration.
Jesus and Mary open to him themselves all the treasuries of *
the Church in that mean chapel of the Portiuncule, which
remains to us as a precious relic of that poverty whose
" desperate lover" he was, according to Bossuet ;* the Pope
confirms these celestial favours on beholding the red and
white roses which Francis presents to him in the midst of
winter. He then ascends the heights of Alverno to receive
the triumphant stigmasf which were to complete his con-
formity with the Saviour, and to make him, in the eyes of
Christian nations, the true Cross-bearer the standard-bearer
of Christ, whilst the Holy See, three centuries after, styled
him the Angel of the East marked with the sign of the living
God.

At sight of these two men, the world understood that it
was saved that new blood was to be infused into its veins.
Innumerable disciples hastened to range themselves under
their all-conquering banners. A long cry of enthusiasm and
of sympathy arose, and was prolonged for ages, resounding
everywhere, from the constitutions of the sovereign Pontiffs
to the songs of the Poets. "When the reigning Emperor,"

* Happy, a thousand times happy, is that humble Francis, tho most ardent, th
most passionate, and, if I may so speak, the most desperate lover of poverty that
perhaps ever was in the Church. BOSSUET, Panegyrique de St. Francois.

t Corpora suo Cbriste triumphalia stigmata proferenti, Buu, OF
tV., B&niffnch

INTROiM C T.'OV. : f '

says Dante, "would save his army fron a dangerous
ke sent these two champions to his wife's assistance : theii
words, their influence, brought the pecpls beck to reason.*
" These two orders,'' eays Sixtus IV., in 1419, s-ffcei two cen
turies and a half of experience, " like the t\vo"fuT-t rivers of
the terrestrial Paradise, have watered the soil of tht universpi
Church by their doctrine, their virtues, and their merits, and
render it every day more fruitful ; they are, as it were, two
seraphim, who, raised on the wings of sublime contemplatioB
and angelic love above all earthjy things, by the assiduous
singing of the divine praises, by the maniiestation. of the
immense favours conferred on man by Sh^ Supreme Artificer,
do unceasingly gather into the granaries of the Hoty Church
abundant sheaves from the pure harvest of sonls redeemed by
the precious blood of Jesus Christ. They ars the two trum
pets whereof the Lord makes use to invite the nations to the
banquet of His holy Grospel."

Scarcely were these orders -in existence, when their powei
and their propagation became one of the most important his-
torical facts of the period. The Church suddenly finds herself
mistress of two numerous armies, moveable and always avail-
able, ready at any moment to invade the world. In 1277,
half u century after the death of St. Dominick, his order had
already four hundred and seventeen convents in Europe. St.
Francis, in his own life-time, assembles five thousand of his
monks at Assisium ; and, thirty-five years after, in numbering
the forces of the Seraphic ' Order at N" arbonne, it is found
that, in thirty-three provinces, it already reckons eight hun-
dred monasteries, and at least twenty thousand religious. A
century later, its numbers were computed at one hundred and
fifty thousand. The conversion of pagan nations is renewed :
Franciscans, bent by Innocent IV. and St. Louis, penetrate
to Morocco, to Damascus, and even amongst the Mongols ;
but. their chief cafe is to overcome the passions of paganism

48 INTRODUCTION.

in the heart of Christian nations. They spread abroad over
Italy, torn asunder by internal dissensions, seeking every
where to reconcile opposite parties, to uproot errors, acting
as supreme arbiters, according t the law of charity. They
were seen, in* 1233, traversing the whole Italian peninsula,
with crosses, incense, and olive-branches, singing and preach-
ing peace, reproaching cities, princes, and even the chiefs of
the Church, with their faults and their enmities. The nations
gubmit, at least for a time, to that sublime mediation ; the
nobles and the people of Plaisance are reconciled at the
bidding of a Franciscan ; Pisa and Visconti, at that of a
Dominican ; and on the plain of Verona two hundred thou-
sand souls are seen crowding around the blessed John of
Vicenza, a preaching friar sent by the Pope to quiet the
disturbance in Tuscany, in Romagna, and in the Trevisan
March. On this solemn occasion he takes for his text the
words, " My peace I leave you ; my peace I give unto you ;"
and, before he ends, an outburst of tears atad sobs shows that
every heart is touched, and the chiefs of the rival houses of
Este arid Romano, embracing each other, give the signal for
a general reconciliation. It is true that these happy results
did not last long ; but the evil was, at Least, vigorously
opposed the sap of Christianity was revived in the souls of
men a- gigantic struggle was everywhere and always carried
on in the name of equity against the dead letter of the law-
in the name of charity against the perverse inclinations of
man in the name of grace and faitb against the dryness and
the paucity of scientific reasoning. Nothing escaped this
new influence ; it moved the scattered inhabitants of the
rural districts ; it shared the sway of the universities ; it
even affected the king on b> throne. Joinville tells us how,
at the first place whc-rj he landed on his return from the
Crusade, S<~. Lou 1 '** was welcomed by a Franciscan, who told
him tliat " wn '*w kingdom lost, save for want of iustice,

IKTBOntTCTIOW. 49 "

and that he must be careful to administer justice promptly and
willingly to his people ; and that every one was mindful of
the king." It is well known how he sought to steal away
from his dearly beloved wife, his friends, and counsellors, to re-
nounce the crown which he so gloriously wore, and go himself
to beg his bread like St. Francis. But he was obliged to con-
tent himself with becoming a penitent of the third order ; for in
-heir all-conquering army they had a suitable place for every
one. Together with these battalions of monks, numerous
monasteries were opened for virgins who aspired to the
honour of immolating themselves for Christ, and the vast
affiliations known under the name of third orders offered a
place for princes, warriors, married people, fathers of families,
in a word, to all the faithful of both sexes who wished to
associate themselves, at least indirectly, in the great work of
regenerating Christendom.

Tradition relates that the two glorious patriarchs of that
regeneration had at one time an idea of uniting their efforts
and their orders p apparently so much alike ; but the celestial
inspiration on which they acted revealed to them that there
a r as room for two different powers for two kinds of war
against the invasion of evil. They seem to have divided
their sublime mission, and also the moral world, in order to
bring back charity and knowledge to the bosom of the
Church, and to reconcile those two great rivals which cannot
exist one without the other. This reconciliation was effected
by them as it had never been before. Whilst the love that
consumed and absorbed the soul of St. Francis has ever
gained for him in the Church the name of the Seraph of
Assisium, it would not be rash, perhaps, with Dante, to
attribute to St. Dominick the power and the light of the
Cherubim. Their children showed themselves faithful to this
distinct tendency, which ended in the same eternal unity,
and with some few notable exceptions, it may be said that,

...: ; -:-- ^ ; r : -v '^

t>0 INTRODUCTIOH.

dating from that period of the Church's history, the pa ft
which has especially fallen to the Seraphic Order was the
distilling and diffusion of the treasures of love, the mysterious
joys of sacrifice ; whilst that of the Preachers was, as their
name implies, to propagate, defend, and establish the truth.
Neither one nor the other failed in its mission ; and both iu
their adolescence, and in the course of the half century of
which we speak, gave to the Church, perhaps, more Saints
and Doctors than she had ever possessed in so short an
interval, from the first ages of her existence. Following
closely in the footsteps of St. Dominick that holy champion
of the faith that coadjutor of the Eternal Labourer comes
all at once the Brother Jourdain, worthy of being his first
successor, and general of his order ; then St. Peter of Verona,
honoured with the title of the martyr as if by excellence, and
who, assassinated by the heretics, wrote on the ground, with
the blood from his wounds, the first words of the Creed
whose truth he maintained at the expense of his life ; then
St. Hyacinth, and Ceslas his brother, those young Pob'sn
nobles, who, meeting St. Dominick in Home, were induced to
renounce all worldly greatness, in order to carry that rew
light to their own country, whence it was to spread with
lightning rapidity through Lithuania, Muscovy, and Prussia j
then, St. Raymond de Penafort, chosen by Gregory IX. to
assist in framing the legislation of the Church, the author of
the Decrees, and successor of St. Dominick ; finally, that
Theobald Yisconti, who was to preside over the affairs erf the
Church under the name of Gregory X., before he became
eternally entitled to its prayers, as Beatified in Heaven.

'.breast of these men whose sanctity the Church has conse-
crated, a host of others were distinguished for their talents
and learning. Albert the Great, that colossus of learning,
the propagator of Aristotle and the master of St. Thomas :

Vincent de Beauvais, author of the great encyclopaedia of

. 51

middle age*- , Cardinal Hugues de Saint-Cher, who mado. the
first concoraasce of the Scriptures ; Cardinal Henri de Suzon,
author of La Somme Doree and above all, in sanctity as in
knowledge, the great St. Thomas d'Aquinas, the Angelic
Doctor, the gigantic thinker, in whom' there seems to be
summed up all the science of the ages of faith, and whose
magnificent synthesis has never since been equalled ; who,
.with all his rapt abstraction, is still an admirable poet, and
merits to be chosen as the intimate friend and counsellor of
St. Louis in the most intricate affairs of his kingdom. "Thou
hast written well of me," said Christ to him one day ; "what
reward dost thou ask ?" " Yourself," replied the Saint. That
word comprises his whole life and tiiaes.

The army of St. Francis marched to battle under chiefs
110 less glorious than those of the Dominicans ; during hia
own lifetime, twelve of his first disciples went to gather the
palms of martyrdom amongst the heathen. B. Bernard,
P. Egidius, and B. Guy of Cortoua, all of that company oi
Saints who were companions and disciples of the holy founder,
survived him, and preserved the inviolable deposit of that
spirit of love and humility wherewith he had been transported
Scarcely had the Seraph taken his place before the throne of
God, when his plo ^e in the veneration of the world is occupied
by him whom all proclaim as his first-born- - St. Anthony of
Padua, celebrate i, like his spiritual father, for that control
over naturt, which won for him the name of Thaumaturgus ;
he who wart rrirned by Gregory IX. the Ark of the Two
Covenants; tfho had the gift of tongues, like the Apostles ;
who, after hiring edified France and Sicily, spends his last
years in prorehing peace and union to the Lombard dties,
obtains from the Pacluans the privilege of the cession of funds
-for unhappy debtors, ventures also to upbraid the ferocious
Eccelin witb his tyranny, makes the ruthless oppressor trem-
ble, as he himself confesses, and dies at thirty-six, in the same

^ v ---" v vs;>-;v v: r ;^?3^

48 INTRODUCTION.

in the heart of Christian nations. They spread abroad over
Italy, torn asunder by internal dissensions, seeking every
where to reconcile opposite parties, to uproot errors, acting
AS supreme arbiters, according t the law of charity. T*hey
were seen, in* 1233, traversing the whole Italian peninsula,
with crosses, incense, and olive-branches, singing and preach-
ing peace, reproaching cities, princes, and even the chiefs of
the Church, with their faults and their enmities. The nations
gubrnit, at least for a time, to that sublime mediation ; the
nobles and the people of Plaisance are reconciled at the
bidding of a Franciscan ; Pisa and Visconti, at that of a
Dominican ; and on the plain of Yerona two hundred thou-
sand souls are seen crowding around the blessed John of
Vicenza, a preaching friar sent by the Pope to quiet the
disturbance in Tuscany, in Romagna, and in the Trevisan
March. On this solemn occasion he takes for his text the
words, " My peace I leave you ; my peace I give unto you ;"
and, before he ends, an outburst of tears atad sobs shows that
every heart is touched, and the chiefs of the rival houses of
Este arid Romano, embracing each other, give the signal for
a general reconciliation. It is true that these happy results
did not last long ; but the evil was, at least, vigorously
opposed the sap of Christianity was revived in the souls of
men a- gigantic struggle was everywhere and. always carried
on in the name of equity against the dead letter of the law-
in the name of charity against the perverse inclinations of
man in the name of grace and faith against the dryness and
the paucity of scientific reasoning. Nothing escaped this
new influence ; it moved the scattered inhabitants of the
rural districts ; it share*! the sway of the universities ; it
even affected the king on b> throne. Joinville tells us how,
at the first place whc-ry he landed on his return from the
Crusade, St. Lou 1 '** w&s welcomed by a Franciscan, who told
him tuat " *y wt '*w kingdom lost, save for want of Justice,

Tradition relates that the two glorious patriarchs of that
regeneration had at one time an idea of uniting their efforts
and their orderSj, apparently so much alike ; but the celestial
inspiration on which they acted revealed to them that there
tfas room for two different powers for two kinds of war
against the invasion of evil. They seem to have divided
their sublime mission, and also the moral world, in order to
bring back charity and knowledge to the bosom of the
Church, and to reconcile those two great rivals which cannot
exist one without the other. This reconciliation was effected
by them as it had never been before. Whilst the love that
consumed and absorbed the soul of St. Francis has ever
gained for him in the Church the name of the Seraph of
Assisium, it would not be rash, perhaps, with Dante, to
attribute to St. Dominick the power and the light of the
Cherubim. Their children showed themselves faithful to this
distinct tendency, which ended in the same eternal unity,
and with some few notable exceptions, it may be said that,

-jy-f ,*- U;

t>0 INTRODUC T1OH.

dating from that period of the Church's history, the part
which has especially fallen to the Seraphic Order was the
distilling and diffusion of the treasures of love, the mysterious
joys of sacrifice ; whilst that of the Preachers was, as their
name implies, to propagate, defend, and establish the truth.
Neither one nor the other failed in its mission ; and both in
their adolescence, and in the course of the half century of
which we speak, gave to the Church, perhaps, more Saints
and Doctors than she had ever possessed in so short an
interval, from the first ages of her existence. Following
closely in the footsteps of St. Dorninick that holy champion
of the faith that coadjutor of the Eternal Labourer comes
all at once the Brother Jourdain, worthy of being his first
successor, and general of his order ; then St. Peter of Verona,
honoured with the title of the martyr as if by excellence, and
who, assassinated by the heretics, wrote on the ground, with
the blood from his wounds, the first words of the Creed
whose truth he maintained at the expense of his life ; then
St. Hyacinth, and Ceslas his brother, those young Pob'sn
nobles, who, meeting Sfc. Domini ck in Rome, were induced to
renounce all worldly greatness, in order to carry that new
light to their own country, whence it was to spread with
lightning rapidity through Lithuania, Muscovy, and Prussia \
then, St. Raymond de Penafort, chosen by Gregory IX. to
assist in framing the legislation of the Church, the author of
the Decrees, and successor of St. Domiuick ; finally, thai
Theobald Yisconti, who was to preside over the affairs of the
Church under the name of Gregory X., before he became
eternally entitled to its prayers, as Beatified in Heaven.

Vincent de Beauvais, author of the great encyclopaedia

CTIGJT.

middle age*> , Cardinal Hngues de Saint-Cher, who made, tlie
first concordance of the Scriptures ; Cardinal Henri de Suzon,
author of La Somme Doree ; and above all, in sanctity as in
knowledge, the great St. Thomas d' Aquinas, the Angelic
Doctor, the gigantic thinker, in whom' there seems to be
summed up all the science of the ages of faith, and whose
magnificent synthesis has never since been equalled ; who,
.with all his rapt abstraction, is still an admirable poet, and
merits to be chosen as the intimate friend and counsellor of
St. Louis in the most intricate affairs of his kingdom. "Thou
hast written well of me," said Christ to him one day ; "what
reward dost thou ask ?" " Yourself," replied the Saint. That
word comprises his whole life and times.

The army of St. Francis marched to battle under chiefs
no less glorious than those of the Dominicans ; during hia
own lifetime, twelve of his first disciples went to gather the
palms of martyrdom amongst the heathen. B. Bernard,
B. Egidius, and B. Guy of Cortoua, all of that company ot
Saints who were companions and disciples of the holy founder,
survived him, and preserved the inviolable deposit of that
spirit of love and humility wherewith he had been transported
Scarcely had the Seraph taken his place before the throne of
God, when his pla ^e in the veneration of the world is occupied
by him whom all proclaim as his first-born- - St. Anthony of
Padua, celebrate i, like his spiritual father, for that control
over naturt, which won for him the name of Thaumaturgus ;
x he who wa.h named by Gregory IX. the Ark of the Two
Covenants ; tf'ao had the gift of tongues, like the Apostles ;
who, after h IT ing edified France and Sicily, spends his last
years in pror.ching peace and union to the Lombard cities,
obtains from the Pacluans the privilege of the cession of funds
-for unhappy debtors, ventures also to upbraid the ferocious
Eccelin with his tyranny, makes the ruthless oppressor trem-
ble, as he himself confesses, and dies at thirty-six, in the same

52 INTRODUCTION.

year with St. Elizabeth. Somewhat later, Roger Bacon*

reinstates and sanctifies the study of nature, classifies all the

sciences, and foresees, if he does not even effect, the greatest

discoveries of modern times. Duns Scotus disputes with St

Thomas the empire of the- schools ; and that great genius finds

a rival and a friend in St. Bona venture, the Seraphic Doctor,

who being asked by his illustrious rival, the Angelic Doctor,

from what books he derived his amazing knowledge, pointed

in silence to his crucifix, and who was found washing the

dishes in his convent when the Cardinal's hat was brought him.

But it is chiefly through women that the order of St.

Francis sheds unequalled splendour on that age. That sex,

emancipated by Christianity, and rising in the esteem of

Christian nations, according as the devotion to the Blessed

Virgin increased, could not fail to take an active part in the

new developments of the power to which it owed its freedom..

Thus, St. Dominick had introduced a fruitful reform into the

rule of the spouses of Christ, and opened a new career to

their virtues. But it was not until long after, that in Margaret

of Hungary, Agnes of Monte-Pulciano,. arid Catherine of

Sienna, this branch of the Dominican tree was to bring forth

those prodigies of sanctity which have since been so numerous

Francis, more fortunate in this regard, finds at the outset a

sister, an ally worthy of him. Whilst he, a merchant's son,

commenced his work with some other humble citizens of

Assisium, in that same city, Clara Sciffi, the daughter of a

powerful Count, felt herself inspired with a similar zeal. She

is only eighteen years of age, when, on a Palm-Sunday,

whilst the palms borne by others are withered and faded,

bers suddenly blooms anew It is for her a precept -and a

warning from on high. That very 'night, she flies from her

_^______^__ ^ _____ ;

* Born in 1214 To him is attributed the discovery of gunpowder, the telescope
>c.. It is known that he presented to Clement IV. that plan of reforming the caIB
4sr, wMcli was afterwards adopted by Gregory XIII.

THTRODUCTION. .

father's house, penetrates to tNe Porziuncula, kneels at the
feet of St. Francis, receives from his hands the cord and the
coarse woollen habit, and devotes herself like him to evangel
ict.i poverty. In vain do her parents persecute her ; she is
joined by her sister and many other virgins, who vie with
her in their austerities and privations. In vain do the
Sovereign Pontiffs entreat her to moderate her zeal, to accept
some fixed rule, since her strict seclusion forbade her to go,
like the Friars Minors, to solicit charity from the faithful,
and reduced "her to depend on chance assistance. She obsti-
nately resists, and Innocent IV. finally grants her the privi*
lege of perpetual poverty, the only one, he said, that none had
ever asked of him. " But He," he added, " who feeds the
)irds of the air, who clothes the earth with flowers and ver-
dure, can well feed and clothe you till the day when He shall
give Himself for your eternal aliment when He will embrace
you with His victorious arm in the fulness of His glory and
beatitude." Three Popes and a multitude of other saintly and
noble personages came to seek light and consolati m from that
humble virgin. In a few years she sees a whole army of pioua
women, with queens and princesses at their head, rising and
encamping in Europe, under the rule of Francis of Assisium,
living under her direction and called from her Poor Clares.
But in the midst of this spiritual empire, her modesty is so
great that she is never seen to raise her eyes but once, viz.,
when she asked the Pope's blessing. The Saracens come to
besiege her monastery ; sick and bed-ridden she arises, takes
the ostensory in her hand, walks .forth to meet them, arid
thoy immediately take to flight. After fourteen years of a
holy union with St. Francis, she loses him ; then, having long
endured the most grievous infirmity, she dies after having
dictated a most sublime testament ; and the Sovereign Pon-
tiff, who had witnessed her death, proposes her at once to the
veneration of the faithful, proclaiming her the resplendent

54 INTRODUCTIOIf.

li" it of the temple of God, the princess of poverty, and tfee
(' ichess of humility.

As St. Francis found a friend and sister in St Clare, so
lid St. Anthony of Padua in the blessed Helena Ensimel. 7 ' 1 ;
out, by a marvellous effect of divine grace, it is especially
amongst the daughters of kbgs that the mendicant order
finds its most eminent saints ; whether they enter upon the
strict observance of the Poor Clares, or, restrained in the
bonds of marriage, can only adopt the rule of the third order.
The first in date and in renown is that Elizabeth of Hungary,
fc whose life we have written. It was not in vain, as we shall
see, that Pope Gregory IX. obliged St. Francis to send her
his poor cloak ; like Eliseus of old receiving that of Elias,
she was to find therein the fortitude to become his heiress.
Inflamed by her example, her cousin-german, Agnes of
Bohemia, refuses the ha,nd of the Emperor of the Romans,
and that of the king of England, and writes to St. Clare,
that she, too, has taken vows of absolute poverty. St. Clare
replies in an admirable letter, which has been preserved, and
at the same time sends to her royal neophyte. a cord to encir-
cle her waist, an earthen bowl, and a crucifix. Like her,
Isabella of France, sister of St. Louis, refuses to become the
wife of the Emperor Conrad IV., to become a Poor Clare, and
die a Saint like her brother. Marguerite, the widow of that
holy king, the two daughters of St. Ferdinand of Castile, and
Helena, sister of the king of Portugal, follow that example.
But, as if Providence would bless the tender bond which
anited our Elizabeth to St. Francis and St. Clare, whom she
had taken for models, it is chiefly her family which oifers to
the Seraphic Order as it were a nursery of Saints. After her
cousin Agnes, it is her sister-in-law, the blessed Salome, queen
of Gallicia ; then her niece, St. Cunegunda, Duchess of
Poland ; and whilst another of her nieces, the blessed Mar-
garet .of Hungary, prefers the order of St. Dominick in which

INTRODUCTION. 55

she dies at the age of twenty-eight, the grand-daughter of her
eister, named after her Elfzabeth, having become Queen of
Portugal, embraces, like her, the third order of St. Francis,
und Tike her merits the eternal veneration of the faithful.

In view of. these Franciscans of royal birth, we must not
lose sight of those whom the grace of God drew forth from
the lowest ranks of the people. Such /was St. Margaret of
Cortona, who, from a prostitute, became the model of peni-
tents ; and especially, St. Rose of Viterbo, the illustrious
and poetic heroine of the faith, who, though scarcely ten
years old, when the fugitive Pope had not in Italy a spot,
whe're he might remain, Vent down to the public square of
her native city, to preach the rights of the Holy See against
Cho imperial power which she succeeded in shaking 4 , merited
to be exiled at fifteen, by order of Frederick II., and returned
in triumph with the Church, to die at seventeen, the admira-
v.on of all Italy, where her name is still popular.

Those two great orders, which peopled Heaven by stirring
rp the earth, met, notwithstanding the diversity of their
( haracters and modes of action, in one common object the
bve and veneration of Mary. It was impossible that the
influence of this sublime belief in the Virgin-Mother, which
had been steadily and rapidly increasing, since the proclama-
tion of her divine maternity at the Council of Ephesus, should
not be comprised in the immense spiritual movement of the
thirteenth century ; hence, it may be said that if, in the pre-
ceding century, St. Bernard had given the same impulse to
the devotion of the people for the Blessed Virgin, that he
had impressed on every noble instinct of Christianity, it was
the two great mendicant orders who raised that devotion to
a position at once firm and exalted. St. Dominick, by the
establishment of the Rosary, and the Franciscans, by preach-
ing the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, reared, as it
were, two majestic columns, the one of practice, the other of

56 INTRODUCTION.

doctrine, from the summit of which the gracious Queen of
Augels presided over Catholic piety and Catholic science,
St. -Bonaventure, the great and learned theologian, becomes
a poet to sing her praise, and twice paraphrases ths entire
Psalter in her honour.* All the works and all the instituticas
of that period, and especially all the inspirations of art as they
have been preserved to us in her great cathedrals and in the
lays of her poets, manifest an immense development, in the
heart of Christian people, of tenderness and veneration for
Mary.f

In the very bosom of the Church, and even outside the
two families of St. Dominick and St. Francis, the devotion to
the Blessed Virgin brought forth effects as precious for the
salvation of souls, as venerable for their duration. Three
jew orders were consecrated to her in their very origin, and
placed under shelter of her sacred name. That of Mount
Carniel, J emanating from the Holy Land, as the best produc-
tion of that soil so fruitful in prodigies, gave, by the introduc-
tion of the Scapular, a sort of new standard to the followers
of Mary. Seven merchants of Florence founded at the same
tiine that order whose very name denotes the pride they
experienced, in that age of chivalric devotion, in bending
beneath the sweet yoke of the Queen of Heaven; the order of

* Besides his Speculum B. Y. 31., which is, perhaps, the most popular work of the
middle ages, this Saint has written the Psalteriwm Majus B. V. M which is com-
posed of one hundred and fifty psalms, analogous to those of David, and applied to
the Blessed Virgin ; then the Psalterium Minus, which consists of one hundred
und fifty four-line" stanzas ; finally the Laus B. V. M*, and a paraphrase on th
Salv^, also in verse.

t It was in 1220 that the Margrave Henry of Moravia, and his wife Agnes, founded
the first chapsl at Mariazell. in Syria, even in our days a famous and popular pilgrim-
age in Germany. It was only in 1240 that the Ave Maria came into general use.

$ He received his first rule from the patriarch Albert, in 1209, was confirmed in
1226, became a mendicant in 1247. The scapular was given by the Blessed Virgil
to St. Simon Stock, who died about 1250.

In 1239. The order was confiimed at the Council of Lyon, in 1374.

fPfpsfS||5?p^S33^^ !-: "I:'.

INTRODUCTION. 57

the Serviles or Serfs of Mary, which immediately gave to the
Church St. Philip Benizzi. author of the touching devotion of
the Seven Dolors of the Yirgin. At length that cherished
name was attached to an institution worthy of her maternal

heart -the Order of Our Lady of Mercy,* intended for the
ransom of Christian captives from the infidels. She had h*r-
self appeared, it was said, on the same night, tc King James of
Aragon, St. Raymond de Penafort, and St. Peter Nolasquez,
beseeching them to interest themselves for her sake in the fate
of their captive brethren. All three obeyed ; and Peter
became the chief of the new order, which made a rapid prog-
ress, and soon after produced that St. Raymond Nonnat-, who
sold himself to redeem a slave, and who was gagged by tho
infidels, so invincible did they find his words.

This same object of mercy, with a desire for the propaga-
tion of the faith, had, in the preceding century, under tl o
auspices of Innocent III., given rise to the order of the Trim
tarians, by the united efforts of two Saints, a part of whose
life belongs to the thirteenth century, St. John of Matha, and
St. Felix of Yalois, who was also the special servant of Mary.
For six hundred years, and even down to our own times,
these two Borders have continued their peaceful but perilous
crusade.

Here we have already no less than five new orders, all
instituted within the first thirty years of that century ; nor is
this all ; the desire to unite all energies for good, which had
its principle in that love of God and the neighbour which
every thing then tended to develop, was not yet satisfied :
other religions, as they were thenceforward called, were daily
formed in the bosom of the mother-religion. Lea Hnmili&s
received their definitive rule from Innocent III,, in 1201; the
Augustinians (in 1256) under Alexander IV., became the

Commenced In 1223, approved of in 1285.

68 INTRODUCTION.

fourth branch of that great family of Mendicants, in which
the Carmelites had already taken their place, by the side of
4he Friars Minors and Preachers. The Celestines, founded by
Peter de Mouron, who was afterwards Pope and canonized
under that same name of Celestine, was confirmed by Urban
IV. (in 1263). In a narrower and more local sphere, St.
Eugene of Strigonia established the Hermits of St. Paul, in
Hungary (in 1215); and three pious professors from the Uni-
versity of Paris retired to a sequestered valley in the diocese
of Langres, to found there, with thirty-seven of their pupils,
the new order of the Val des Ecoliers (the Yale of Scholars)
(in 1218.) Besides all these numerous and divers careers
offered to the zeal and devotion of those who wished to con-
secrate themselves to God ; besides the great military orders
of the East and of Spain, then in the height of their splen-
dour, those Christians whom either duty or inclination re-
tained in common and profane life, could not submit to lose
their share in that life of prayer and sacrifice which con-
stantly excited their envy and their admiration. They organ-
ised themselves, as much as possible, under an analogous
form. This accounts for the appearance of the Fratri gaudenti
or Knights of the Virgin (in 1233), who, without renouncing
the world, applied themselves to restore peace and concord in
Italy, in honour of the Virgin ; that of the Beguins, still so
numerous in Flanders, and who have taken St. Elizabeth for
their patroness ; finally, the immense multitude of the third
orders of St. Dominick and St. Francis, composed of married
persons and those who lived in the world, yet wished to draw
near to God. It was the monastic life introduced into the
hvmily and society.

Then, as if this vast wealth of sanctity belonging to the
aew orders were not enough for that glorious time, illustrious
Saints sprang forth simultaneously from the ancient orders,
the Episcopacy, and all ranks of the faithful. We have al

INTRODUCTION. 59

? named St. Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury, and St.
Hedwige, of Poland, who became a Cistercian. By their side,
in the order of Citeaux, it is proper to place St. Guillaume,
Archbishop of Bourges, another famous defender of ecclesias-
tical freedom, and a preacher of the Crusade ; St. Thibaut de
Montmorency (1241); Etienue de Chatillon (1208) Bishop of
Die, and Philippe Berruyer (1266), Archbishop of Bourges,
both beatified; another St. Guillaume, abbot of the Paraclete
in Denmark, whither he had brought the piety and learning
of the canons of St. Genevieve of Paris, whence he had gone
forth (died in 1209); in the order of St. Benedict, St. Sylves-
ter d'Osimo and St. William of Monte-Virgine, authors of the
reforms which have kept their names ; in the order of Pre-
montre, the B. Hermann Joseph (1235), so famous for his
ardent devotion to the Mother of God, and the striking
graces which he received from her; finally, amongst the An
gustinians, St. Nicholas of Tolentino (born in 1239), who,
after a holy life of seventy years, heard every night the
hymns of the celestial choirs, and was so transported by
them that he could no longer restrain his impatience to die.
Amongst the holy women, was the Blessed Mafalda, daughter
of the King of Portugal; the B.Marie d'Oigines (1213),
and that sweet St. Humility (born in 1210), abbess of
Valombreuse, whose very name describes her whole life.
Amongst the Virgins, St. Yerdiana, the austere recluss of
Florence, who extended even to serpents her invincible cha-
riiy (died in 1222); St. Zita, who lived and died an humble
servant in Lucca, and who was chosen as the patroness of that
powerful republic ; then in Germany, St. Gertrude (born in
1222), and her sister St. Mecthilda, who held in the thir-
teenth century the same place that St. Hildegarde did in the
twelfth and St. Catherine of Sienna in the fourteenth, amongst
those virgins to whom tho Lord has revealed the inner lighta
of his holv law.

' '':>^ =o'-^>v"3V^.^

60 INTRODUCTIOW.

Lastly, we must not forget, amongst the wonders of Eliza-
beth's time, that work which every succeeding age has pro-
nounced unequalled, The Imitation cf Christ, whose author
has never been clearly ascertained, bit its presumed author,
John Gersen, abbot of Yerceil, lived at that time, and lived
in the most perfect conformity with the spirit of that divine
book. It is the most complete and sublime formula of arden ;
piety towards Christ, written at a period which had already
brought forth the Rosary and the Scapular in honour of
Mary, and which closed magnificently with the institution of
the feast of the Holy Sacrament, which was first proposed
by a poor Cistercian nun (St. Juliana, of Liege), confirmed
by the miracle of Bolsena,* and sung by St. Thomas of
Aquinas.f

We have m> apprehensions of being censured for dwelling
too long on t?)is enumeration of the Saints and religious insti-
tutions of a ptrlod which it is our wish fully to represent ;
any man who ^ia.3 made a careful study of the middle ages,
must know per ? tttly well that those are the true pivots on
which society ll en turned ; that the creation of a new order
was then univei s \ily considered as of greater importance than
the formation of new kingdom or the promulgation of a new
code ; that Saints vere then the true heroes, and that they en-
grossed nearly all L .li a . popularity of the time. It is only when
one has appreciated ^, part which prayer and miracles played
in public opinion, and srtudved a,nd comprehended the career
of a St. Francis and a .St DoinuMck, that he can account for
the presence and the ac.Vi vt an Innocent III. and a St.
Louis.

* The festival was Instituted In 1264, b> 7\ x ar IF., tn mi rcc-y ->f f'is <a1u \cH
t He is known to have drawn up the Office o.* tV M sb >f MK Hcly ^a<r*m
Bid is recognised as author f the pnse Lauda S^ti nft *.h\ h :oi.-ph-ab' bv
supplex.

INTRODUCTION. 61

Bat it was not only the political world that was controlled
by Catholic faith and Catholic thought: in its majestic unity,
it embraced all the human mind, and associated or employed
it in all its developments. Hence its power and its glory ar*
profoundly impressed on all the productions of art and poetry
of that period, whilst, far from restraining, it sanctified and
consecrated the progress of science. Wherefore we find that
this thirteenth century, so prolific for the faith, was not' more
barren for science. We have already mentioned Roger Bacon
and Vincent de Beauvais ; their names are synonymous with
the study of nature, purified and ennobled by religion, as also
the introduction of the spirit of classification and generalisa-
tion in directing the intellectual wealth of men. We have
named St. Thomas and his contemporaries in tht Mendicant
Orders ; his name recalls the most glorious era of theology
the first of sciences. The Angelic Doctor and the Seraphic
Doctor criticised at will the famous Peter Lombard, the Mas-
ter of Sentences, who had so long controlled the schools ; nor
must we forget either Alian de Lille, the Universal Doctor,
who was still living in the first years of thui century, nor
Gruillaume Durand, who illustrated its close, and gave the
most complete Liturgical code in his Rationale. Most of
these great men embraced at once theology, philosophy and
law, and their names belong equally to those three sciences.
Raymond Lulle, entitled by his holy life to the distinction
of Blessed, belongs more especially to philosophy. The trans-
lation of the works of Aristotle, undertaken through tlie
influence of Frederick II., and which attained such rapid
popularity, opened before the latter science new and untrod-
den fields, which were only opening on the woild at the pe-
riod of which we write. Legislation was never in a mow
prosperous condition. On one side, the Popes, supreme or-
gans both of faith and right, developed the canon law a*
became that magnificent bulwark of Christian civilisation,

62 INTRODUCTION.

eided as judges with exemplary ijssiduity,* published immeus*
collections, and founded numerous schools. On the o(hef
hand, were seen springing up most of the national codes of
Europe, the great mirrors of Suabia and Saxony, the first
laws published in German by Frederic II. at the diet of
Mayence, the code given by him to Sicily; in France, the
establishments of St. Louis, together with tne Common Law
of Peter des Fontaines, and that of Beauvoisis by Philip de
Beaumanoir ; finally, the French version of the Sessions of
Jerusalem, wherein is formed the most complete summary of
Christian and chivalric law. All these precious monuments
of the ancient Christian organisation of the world, have come
down to us even in the vernacular tongues, and are still less
distinguished by that mark, than by their generous and pious
spirit, from that fatal Roman law, whose progress was soon
to change all the principles of Catholic society. Hand in
hand with these intellectual sciences, medicine flourished in
its capitals; Montpellier and Salerno, still influenced by, and
in alliance with, the Church : and Pope John XXI., before
he ascended the pontifical throne, found leisure to compose
the Treasure of the Poor or Manual of the Art of Healing.
The introduction of algebra and of Arabic figures, f the inven-
tion, or at least the general adoption of the Mariner's Com-
pass, also signalise that period as one of the most important
in the history of man.

But it is still more in art that the creative genius of that
age is manifested : for it was the period which saw the devel-
opment of that sweet and majestic power of Christian art,
whose splendour was only to pale under the Medici, at the

* Innooent III. sat in judgment three times a week ; Gregory IX., Innocent
IV., and Boniface VIII., were famous lawyers. We have already spoken of St. Ksy-
mond do Penafprt and Cardinal Henry Sazon, placed by Dante in his Paradise.

t It took place in Italy, under Frederick II,, by Leonard Tibonacci, and ii
fr&nce, under St. L^uls.

INTRODUCTION. 6S

rime of wLat is called the Retfival, being nothing else *tian
the revival of pagan idolatry in arts and letters.* It is this
thirteenth century that commences with Cimabue and the
Cathedral of Cologne, that long series of spier dour which ends
but with Eaphael and the dome of Milan. Architecture, the
first of arts in duration, popularity, and religious sanction,
was also to be the first subjected to the new influence devol
oped among Christian nations, the first to illustrate theil
great and holy thoughts. It seems that that immense move-
ment of souls represented by St. Dominick, St. Francis, and
St. Louis, could have no other expression than those gigantic
cathedrals, which appear as though they would bear to heaven,
on the summit of their spires, the universal homage of the
love and the victorious faith of Christians. The vast basilica
of the preceding ages seemed to them too bare, too heavy, too
jmpty, for the new emotions of their piety, for the renovated
fervour of their faith. That vmd flame of faith required the
means of transforming itself into stone, and thus bequeathing
itself to posterity. Pontiffs and artists sought some new com-
bination which might lead and adapt itself to all the new
treasures of the Catholic spirit ; they found it in following 1
those columns which arise, opposite each other in the Chris-
tian basilic, like prayers which, meeting before God, bend and
embrace like sisters : in that embrace they found the ogee.
By its appearance, which only became general in the thirteenth
ccntnry, all is modified, not in the inner and mysterious mean-
ing of religious edifices, but in their exterior form. Instead
of extending over the ground like vast roofs destined for the
belter of the faithful, all begins then to dart upwards towards

. * Most piiople are acquainted with the exclamation of Pope Alexander VI., on
rrivlng in Home, after the death of Leo X., at sight of all the ancient statues which
bxt been disinterred: Profit idola Itarbarorum I It was certainly dictated u
much by a just sentiment of Christian art as by the pious emotion of the head of th
Catholic Church.

84 INTRODUCE !ON.

the. Most High. The horizontal line gradually disappears, in
the prevalent idea of elevation, the heavenward tendency of
the age. Dating from this moment, no more crypts, no more
subterraneous churches, the genius of Christianity having
nothing more to fear, will fully manifest itself before the
world. " God wills no longer," says the Tlturel, the greatest
poem of the time, and furnishing the most perfect theory of
Christian architecture^ " God wills no longer that his chosen
people should assemble in a timid and disgraceful manner in
holes and caverns." As they chose to shed their blood for
God in the Crusades, that chosen people will now give their
toil, their imagination, their poesy, to raise up suitable palaces
for the same God. Innumerable beauties everywhere abound
in that sprouting of the earth fructified by Catholicity, and
which seems reproduced in every church by the marvellous
foliage of the capitals, windows and small steeples. It would
lead us much too far were we to enter upon the detail of the
grandeur and poetry given to the world by that architectural
transformation of the thirteenth century. We shall confine
ourselves to the demonstration of the fact that the first and
most complete production at least in Germany of the
Gothic, or oglval style of architecture was the church
built over the tomb of -the dear St. Elizabeth* with thb
offerings of the numberless pilgrims who crowded thither.
We roust also give a passing glance at some of the immortal
cathedrals which rose at the same time in every part of Chris-
tian Europe, and which, if not all finished then, had their
plan drawn by the hand of men of genius, who disdained to
leave us their name ; they loved God and their brethren too
much to love glory. There was in Germany, besides Mar-
bourg, Cologne, (1246) the model church, where the trust
of faithful generations has been betrayed by their posterity,

* M. Moller, a famous German architect of our own times, has publish^
exclusively on this church. (See eh. xxxi. of our history.)

INTRODUCTION. 65

but which, suspended in its glory, is, as it w 3re, a challenge
to modern impotence ; Cologne, which forms with Strasburg
and Friburg, the magnificent Gothic trilogy of the Rhine.
In France, Chartres, dedicated in 1260, after a century and
a half of patient perseverance; Rheims (1232,) the Cathedral
of the monarchy; Auxerre (1215;) Amiens (1228;) Beauvaia
(1250,) La Sainte Chapelle and St. Denis-, the front of Notre
Dame (1223;) in Belgium, St. Gudule of Brussels (1226,)
and the church of the Downs (Dunes.^) built by four hundred
monks in fifty years (1214-1262;) in England, Salisbury, the
finest of all, (1220;) half of York Minster, (1227-1260;) the
choir of that of Ely (1235;) the nave of Durham, (1212,) and
the national abbey of Westminster, (1241:) in Spain, Burgos
and Toledo, founded by St. Ferdinand, (1228;) and almost all
these colossal works undertaken and accomplished by cue
single city or chapter, whilst the most powerful kingdoms of
our time would be unable, with all their fiscality, to achieve
even one such glorious and consoling victory of humanity and
faith over incredulous pride: a victory which even then aston-
ished simple souls, and drew from a monk that cry of noble
surprise " How is it that in hearts so humble there is so
proud a genius ?"

Christian sculpture could not but share in the progress
of architecture, and it then commenced to bear its finest
fruits. Those goodly rows of Saints and Angels which adorn
' the facades of the cathedrals, then came forth from stone.
Then was introduced the use of those tombs whereon we see
reclining in the calm sleep of the just the husband and
wife together, their hands sometimes joined in death as they
had been in life where the mother still lay in the midst of
her children ; these statues so grave, so pious, so touching,
impressed with all the serenity of Christian death ; the head
supported by little angels, who seem to have received the
latest sigh ; the legs crossed, if the warrior had been to tk

^^^isi^^^^SSS^?^^^

66 INTRODUCTION.

Crusades. The relics of Saints brought in such numbers t from
conquered Byzantium, or incessantly furnished by the beatifi-
cation of contemporary virtue, gave perpetual employment
for the Catholic sculptor and goldsmith. The gorgeously-deco-
rated shrine of St. Elizabeth is a monument of the fecundity
of those arts, then inspired by fervent piety. The shrine of
St. Geuevieve won for its author, Ralph the goldsmith, the
first letters of nobiU.ty giren in France; arid thus it was that,
in Christian society, art prevailed, before riches, over the
inequality of birth.

With regard to painting, although it was only in its in-
fancy, it already gave tokens of its future glory. The large
windows, which just then came into general use, opened a
new field for its operations by shedding on all the ceremonies
of religion a new and mysterious light. The surprising Mass-
book miniatures of St. Louis and of the Miracles q/ 1 the
Messed Virgin, by Gauthier de Coiusy, which are seen in the
royal Library, show what Christian inspiration could already
produce. In Germany began already to dawn that school of
the Lower Rhine, so pure, so mystical, which was, in a pccu-.
liar manner, to unite the charm and purity of expression with
the splendour of colouring. The popularity of this rising art
was already so great, that the ideal of beauty was no longer
sought in fallen, nature, but in those deep and mysterious
types the secret of which had been found by humble artists
in their pious meditations.*

Italy we have not yet named, because she merits a separate
place in this rapid enumeration. In fact, that eternal inherit-
ance of beauty preceded and surpassed all the rest of the
world in the culture of Christian art ; Pisa and Sienna, even

* Wolfram d'Eschenbach, one of the most celebrated poets of Germany at that
period (1220), in order io give an idea of the beauty of one of his heroes, says thM
the painters of Cologne or of Maestriclit could not have made hit i fairer. Passavaui
p. 408.

INTRODUCTION.

now 130 lovely in their sadness and desertion, served as the
cradle of that art, and prepared the way for Florence, which
was to become its first capital. Though adorned within the
previous century by many admirable buildings, Pisa was
preparing the exquisite gem of Santa-Maria della Spina
1230), and also the Campo-Santo,* the distinctive monu-
jent of the faith, the glory and the genius of a Christian
ty ; Sienna would build a new cathedral (1225) which
?ould have surpassed all others if it could have been com-
leted. In these two cities, Nicholas Pisanf and his illustrious
amily founded that sculpture so lively and so pure which gave
neart and soul to stone, and was only to end with the pulpit
of Santa-Croce in Florence. GKunta of Pisa and Gruido of
Sienna commenced, at the same time, the grave and inspired
school of painting which was so soon to wax great under
Cimabue and Giotto, till it reached the heavens with the
blessed monk of Fiesola. Florence hailed a work of Cimabue
as a triumph, and imagined lhat an angal had come from
heaven to paint that truly angelic head of Mary, in the
Annunciation, which is still venerated there. J Orvieto be-
held a cathedral arise worthy of figuring among those of the
North (1206-1214). Naples had, under Frederick II., her
first painter and her first sculptor. Finally, Assisium
erected, in her triple and pyramidal Church, over the tomb
of St. Francis, the sanctuary of the arts and of fervent faith.
More than one Franciscan was already distinguished in paint-
ng ; but the influence of St. Francis over, lay-artists wag
nmense. They seemed to have found the secret of all their

* The plan was conceived in 1200, by the Archbishop Ubaldo, but was not put
nto execution till 12T8.

t Flourished from HOT till 1230; his master-pieces~are the pulpit of the baptistery
pf Pisa, that of the dome of Sienna, and the tomb of St. Dorninick in Bologna.

$ In the Church of the Semites ; it was painted, accc*. ing to the inscription, il
?252.

Toinmasso <le Stefan! and Ni<y las Massuecio.

^ 5 ^^^:^2i;;r,?3^'^ : ^^-=^^

68 INTRODUCTION.

inspiration in his prodigious development of the element of
love ; his life and that of St. Clare were henceforward chosen
for subject-3 as well as the life of Christ and His Mother ;
and all the celebrated painters of that and the succeeding
age hastened to offer a tribute to his memory by adorning
with their paintings the basilic of Assisium. In that neiglb
bourhood was also to spring up the mystic school of the
Onibria, which, in Perugino and Raphael, (before his fall,)
attained the highest perfection of Christian art. One would
have said that, in his sweet and marvellous justice, God would
confer the crown of art, the fairest ornament of the world,
on that place whence he had received the most fervent
prayers and the noblest sacrifices.*

If art were already so rich at the time of which we speak,
and responded so well to the movement of Christian souls,
what shall we not say of poetry, its sister ? Never, certainly,
has she played a part so popular and universal as she then
did. Europe seenied then one vast manufactory of poetry,
sending out every day some finished work, some new cycle.
It is that, setting aside the abundance of inspirations, the'
nations began to wield an instrument which was to lend an
immense force to the development of their imagination. In
fact, this first half of the thirteenth century, which we have
already seen so productive, was also the period of the growth
and expansion of all the living tongues of Europe, when they
began all at once to produce .those monuments which have
come down to us. Translations of the Bible, codes of laws,
framed for the first time in modern idioms, prove their grow-
ing importance. Each nation found thus at its disposal a

* All that we bring forward on painting and general art, and especially 0*1 th
Influence of St. Francis, is established and eloquently developed in M. Bio's book,
entitled, De la peinture Chretienne en Itnlie (Christian painting in Italy). That
work lias already effected a salutary revolution in the study and appreciation of ar I
botl> in France and Italy.

3pk^&%% : ' : S^^^

IKTRODTJCTIOir. 60

iphere of activity till fresh for its thought, wherein the
national genius might redeem itself at will. Prose was formed
for history, and there were soon seen chronicles made for the
people, and often by themselves, taking their place beside
those Latin chronicles, so long despised, and yet containing
so much eloquence, so many beauties quite unknown to classic
Latin.* Yet still poetry long maintained the supremacy
arising from its right of primogeniture. It was then seen to
assume, in almost every country of Europe, those forms which
Pagan or modern civilization attribute to themselves. The
Epic, the Ode, the Elegy, the Satire, nay, the Drama itself,
were all as familiar to the poets of that age as to those of
the time of Augustus and of Louis XIV. And when their
works are read with the sympathy arising from a religious
faith identical with theirs, with an impartial estimate of a
society wherein soul prevails so far over matter, with a very
natural indifference for the rules of modern versification, we
ask ourselves what then has been invented by the writers of
succeeding ages ? We seek to ascertain what thought and
imagination have gained in exchange for the pure treasures
they have lost. For, be it known, that every subject worthy
of literary attention was sung by those unknown poets, and
by them brought under the notice of their cotemporaries ;
God and heaven, nature, love, glory, country, great men
nothing escaped them. There is not a recess of the soul
vhich they did not disclose, not a vein of feeling which they
did not explore, not a fibre of the human heart which they
did not stir, not a chord of that immortal lyre from which
they drew not forth delicious harmony. ,

* We could eite no better example than the life of St. Elizabeth by Theodoric ol
Thuringia; the frequent quotations which we shall make from it in the course of oui
narrative will give the reader some idea of what it is. Amongst the principal Latin-
histories of that time we must cite Saxo Grammaticus, for the Scandinavian king*
doms , Father Vincent Kadlubek, for Poland, aud Cardinal Jacques de Vitry, i*r tb
Crusades.

.. .'''vv/^v^i'.'v-ir'v'^o''- ^^^

INTRODUCTION.

To begin with France ; not only had its language, fora i
by the bards of the preceding century, and perhaps by the
sermons of St. Bernard, become a national treasure, but il
gained under St. Louis that European ascendancy which it
has never since lost. Whilst Dante's master, Brunetto Latini,
wrote his Tesoro, a species of encyclopaedia, in French, be-
cause it was, according to him, the most common language of
the West, St. Francis sung hymns in French along the streets.*
French prose, which was to be the weapon of St. Bernard and
of Bossuet, opened with Villehardouin and Joiuville the series
of those great models whom no nation has ever surpassed ;
but in France, as in all other countries, poesy was then much
more prolific and more highly relished. We shall say nothing
of the Provenpal literature of the Troubadours, although it
has withstood the test of modern criticism, and although it
was still in all its splendour in the thirteenth century. Wo
pass it over because we think it contains no Catholic element
because it rarely, if ever, soars higher than the worship of
material beauty, and represents, with some exceptions, the
materialistic and immoral tendency of the southern heresies
of those times. In the north of France, on the contrary,
together with some fables and certain metrical works which
approached too near the licentious character of the Trouba-
dours, the national and Catholic epic appeared in all its lustre.
The two great cycles wherein is concentrated the highest
poetry of the Catholic ages that of the Carlovingian epics,
and that of the Round Table and St. Graal, initiated in the
preceding century by Chrestien of Troyes, with those Romans
(Romances) whose popularity was immense. The Roman de
Ronpevaux, as we now possess it, those of Gerard de JWevers,
of Partenopex de Blois, of Bertha with the long foot, of Renara

* It is even said that his name of Francis (Francois), was given him, instead
BU father'* name, because of bis great command of the French language.

INTRODUCTION. 71

de Afontauban, of the /owr sons of Ayt ; i c^e transtigura-
tions of French traditions are all of Ujut period ; as also
those of Renart ' and la. Hose, -which have longer maintained
a certain repute. More than two hundred poets, whose works
Have come down to us, flourished iu that age :* one day, per-
haps Catholics will take it into their heads to go seek in theif
works some of the most charming productions of the Chris-
tian muse, instead of believing, on the word of -the sycophant
Boileau, that poetry only came into France with Malherbe.
We must also name amongst these poets Thibault, King of
Navarre, who sang the Crusade and the Blessed Virgin with
such pure enthusiasm, who won the praises of Dante, anfl,
when dying, left his heart to the poor Clares whom he had
founded at Provins ; his friend, Auboin de Sezanne, Raoul de
Couoy, whose name at least is still popular, killed at Mas-
soul a, under the eyes of St. Louis ; the prior Gauthier d
Coinsy, who raised so fair a monument to Mary in his Mira
des ; then that woman of unknown origin, but whose talent*'
and national success have won for her the honourable title oi
Mary of France ; finally Rutebeuf, who thought he could find
no heroine more illustrious to celebrate than our Elizabeth.
At the same time Stephen Langton, whom we have already
mentioned as Primate of England and author of the Magna
Charta, intermingled his sermons with verse, and wrote the
first drama known by the moderns, ttie scene of which is in
heaven, where Truth, Justice, Mercy, and Peace discuss the
fate of Adam after his fall, and are reconciled by Jesu3
Christ.f We here only glance over a period when poetry

* See their enumeration in the Literary History of France, t. zvi. and xvii.;
Roquefort, State of Freneli Poetry; P. Paris, le Jiomancero Francois.

t DeAarne, Arch.-aoligia, t. xiii. Jean Boclel of Arres is regarded m the most
disiangnished dramatic poet of that period; his fine drama entitled Jeu de Sainl
Nicolas, has been made known to us by M. Onesime Leroy, in his work oil tiis
Histories.

v -'^-"r^'--^-5?>:^*^

72 INTRODUCTION.

was so popular amongst the French that St. Louis disdained
not to admit to his royal table minstrels, or itinerant poets,
and that those very men could free themselves from all toll
by means of a song.

In Germany, the thirteenth century is the most lustrous
period of this admirable- mediaeval poetry. Such is the unani-
mous opinion of the numerous literati who have succeeded for
a time in rendering it once more popular in that country.
For ourselves, we are deeply convinced that no poetry is
finer, none impressed with so much freshness of heart and
thought with enthusiasm so ardent, with purity so sincere :
nowhere, in fine, did the new elements planted by Christianity
in the human imagination obtain a more noble triumph. Would
that we could depict in their true colours the exquisite emo-
tions we enjoyed when, in. studying the age of Elizabeth under
every aspect, we opened the volumes where this marvellous
beauty sleeps unnoticed ! With what surprise and admiration
did we behold all that grace, refinement, melancholy, which
would seem reserved for the world's maturity, united to the
artless simplicity, the ardent and grave piety, of the primitive
ages ! Whilst the epic of purely Germanic and Scandinavian
origin develops itself there in the train of the Niebelungen,*
that magnificent Iliad of the Germanic tribes, the double
French and Breton cycle, of which we have spoken above,
finds sublime interpreters there in poets who well knew how,
while preserving the subject matter of foreign traditions, to
stamp their works with incontestible nationality. Their names
are still almost unknown in France, as were those of Schiller
and Goethe thirty years ago ; but, perchance, they may not
always remain so. The greatest of these, Wolfram d'Eschen-
Dach, gave to his country an admirable version of the Parceval,

* This celebrated poem, as we now possess it, dates from th first yewt of
thirteenth century.

IHTRODUCTIOW. TS

and tne only one that is now extant of the Titurel, that
masterpiece of Catholic genius which we may not fear to
place, in the enumeration of its glories, immediately after the
Divine Comedy. Contemporaneously with it, Godefroi of
Strasburg published the Tristan, wherein are summed up the
ideas of the chivalric ages on love, together with the fairest
legends of the Round Table ; and Hartinann de 1'Aue the
Twain, at the same time as the exquisite legend of pauvre
Henri, wherein that knightly poet takes for his heroine a
poor peasant girl, and delights to centre in her all the
noblest inspirations of devotion and sacrifice that the faith
and the habits of his time could give the contempt of life
and its fleeting goods, the love of heaven and heavenly things.
How many other religious and national epics were then com-
posed which it would now be superfluous even to name !*
Nor was the lyric genius less prolific than the epic on that
rich German soil. The ignorant and pedantic criticism of
the unbelieving ages has not been able to eiface the national
remembrance of that brilliant and numerous phalanx of love*
singers (Minne-soenger}^ which came forth between 1180 and
1250 from the ranks of German chivalry, having at its head,
in rank, the Emperor Henry VI., but 'in genius, Walter de
Vogelweide, whose writings are, as it were, the transcript of
all the emotions of his time, and the most complete summary
of that delightful poetry. None of his rivals and contempo-
raries united in a higher degree earthly affections, zealous and

* Such are the Wigalois, byTVirnt de Gravenberg, a vassal of Elizabeth's grand*
father, and who accompanied her husband to the Crusades; Q-uillawme cT Orange,
which was asked of Wolfram d'Eschenbach by Elizabeth's father-in-law ; Fl.oires ft
BlancJipfleur, by Conrad de Flecke ; the Chant de Roland, by the priest Conrad ;
Barla-am et JbsepJiat, by Eodolph de Hohenems, &c.

t The principal collection of their works is in the Royal Library in Paris, in th
manuscript called de Manesxe. It contains the poems of one hundred <md thirty-
sto posts. Professor Hagen, of Berlin, has just published an excellent adttkra of fa
with some most valuable additions.

. INTRODUCTION'.

watchful patriotism, enthusiastic love for holy things ; for the
Crusade, in which he had himself fought ; and, above all, for
the Virgin-Mother, whose mercy and whose mortal dolours he
sang with unequalled tenderness. We clearly see that, in
him, it was not only human love, but also celestial love with
all its treasures which won for him and his confreres their title
of love-singers. Mary, everywhere the Queen of Christian
poetry, was especially so in Germany; and we cannot help
naming amongst those who have offered her the purest in-
cense of song, Conrad de Wurtzburg, who, in his Golden
Forge, seems to have concentrated all the rays of tenderness
and beauty wherewith she had been invested by the venera-
tion of the Christian world. And, as though to remind us
that everything in that age was to be more or less connected
with St. Elizabeth, we see the seven chiefs of those epic poets
and love-singers assemble by solemn appointment at the court
of Thuringia, under their special protector, the Landgrave
Hermann, father-in-law of our Saint, at the very time of her
birth ; the songs which were the produce of the meeting of
this brilliant constellation, form, under the name of the War
of Wartburg, one of the most splendid manifestations of the
German genius, and one of the most abundant treasures of
the legendary mysticism of the middle ages, as well as a
poetic wreath for the cradle of Elizabeth.

Crowned heads are everywhere seen amongst the poets of
that age ; but in the Iberian peninsula it is kings who guide
the first steps of poetry. Peter of Arragon is the most
ancient Troubadour of Spain. Alphonsus the Learned, son
of St, Ferdinand, who merited, long before Francis I., the
title of father of letters a historian and a philosopher, was
also a poet ; there are but few Spanish verses more ancient
than his hymns to the Virgin, and his touching account of his
father's miraculous cure, written in the Grallician language.
Denis I., King of Portugal, is the first known poet of hii

INTRODUCTION. 75

kingdom. In Spain began, with the most lively energy, that
admirable effusion of Christian splendour, which was there
kept up much longer than in any other country, nor began to
wane till after Calderon. Whilst legendary poetry shed its
mild . radiance in the works of the Benedictine Gonzalo de
Berceo, a poet who was truly inspired by Mary and the
Saints of his nation, we see the Spanish epic making ita
appearance in those famous Romances* which are the peculiar
glory of Spain, and one which no nation could ever dispute
with her ; wherein are chronicled all the struggles and all the
beauties of her history; which have endowed the people with,
immortal remembrances, arid have reflected all the proud
prestige of Moorish pomp and elegance, without ever losing
that severe Catholic character which consecrated in Spain,
more than anywhere else, the dignity of man, the loyalty of
the subject, and the faith of the Christian.

In Italy, it was only at the close of the period under
review that Dante appeared, (born 1265) but his advent
was nobly ushered in. Poetry, less precocious than in France
or Germany, was but beginning to bear fruit, but she did so
with prodigious abundance. In every quarter of that noble
and fertile land, schools of poets arose, as schools of artists
were soon after to do. In Sicily, the Italian muse had her
cradle ;f there she appeared, pure, animated, a lover of
nature, delicate, nearly akin to the French genius, which
was twice to make Sicily its appanage, but still and ever
profoundly Catholic.J In Pisa and Sienna, it is more grave,
more solemn, as we see by the fine monuments which those

* Those of the Cid, regarded as the most ancient, could not have been composed
befwethe thirteenth century, according to the best judges.

t Any one who supposes that Italian poetry began with Dante, would do well te
see the collection entitled Poeti del primo secdo, that is to say, of the thirteenth
orntury, which contains some masterpieces of the poetic art.

$ Such, af, least, is the opinion of Dante, De Vufg. Slag, 1, 12 ; and of Petnnfc

76 INTRODUCTION.

cities have preserved. In Florence and the neighbouring
cities it is tender, abundant, pious worthy in all respects of
its birthplace.* They were indeed a legion of poet?, whose
chiefs were the Emperor Frederick II., the kings Enzio and
Mainfroy, his sons, and his Chancellor, Peter de Yignes ;
then Guittone d ? Arezzo, a poet so profound, and sometimes
BO eloquent, and so touching, warmly praised by Petrarch' and
imitated by him; finally, Guido Guinicelli, whom Dante un-
hesitatingly proclaimed as his master. But all these were
preceded and surpassed by St. Francis of Assisium ;f his
influence was to enliven art, his example to inflame poets.
While reforming the world, God permitted him to use the
first of that poetry which was to bring forth Dante and Pe-
trarch. As it was his soul alone that inspired his verses, and
that he followed no rule in their composition, he had them
corrected by the Brother Pacific, who became his disciple,
after having been poet-laureate to the Emperor Frederick II. ;
and then both together went along the- highways, singing to
the people those new hymns, saying that they were God's min-
str'els, and required no other reward than the repentance of
sinners. We still have those joyous canticles wherein the
poor mendicant celebrated the wonders of God's love, in the
vernacular tongue, and so passionately that he himself appre-
hended lest he might be accused of folly.

No, never did that love, which was, as we have seen, his
whole life, send forth a cry so enthusiastic, so truly celestial,
so wholly detached from the earth ; hence it is that succeed-
ing ages have not only failed to equal it, but even to under-

* "We must especially mention the charming strains of Eotajo d'Oltrarno (1240).
aro found in Crescimbeni and the Rime antiche.

t We must here refer to the fine work of M. Goerres, entitled St. .Francois cPAs-
tise Troubadour, translated into the European Review of 1S33. There are no
Italian verses whose date can be fixed with certainty before those of St. Frooci&
We bav already spoken of the beautiful poems of St. Bonaveaturt.

IKTROBUCTIOW. 77

Bland it. His famous canticle to his brother the nun is better
known ; it was composed after an ecstacy wherein he had
r.erciv"cl the certainty of his salvation. Scarcely had it es-
caped from Ins neart when he goes out to sing it in the streets
of Assi.sii.ra, where the Bishop and the magistrate were in
oner warfare. But at the accents of that divine lyre, hatred
was extinguished in all hearts, enemies shed tears as they em-
braced each other," aud concord reappeared at the call of
poetry and sanctity.

Finally, the highest and fairest branch . of poetry, the
liturgy, produced in that age some of its most popular master-
pieces, and if St. Thomas of Aquinas gives it the Luuda Sion,
and all the admirable office of the Blessed Sacrament, it is a
disciple of St. Francis Thomas de Celano who leaves us
the Dies Irce, that cry of sublime terror ; and another, the
Brother Jacopone, who disputes with Innocent III. the glory
of having composed, in the Stabat Mater, the most beautiful
tribute to the purest and most touching of sorrows.

This brings us back to St. Francis, and it may be observed
that this period, whose most prominent features we have en-
deavoured to sketch, may be wholly summed up in the two
great figures of St. Francis of Assisium, and St. Louis of France.

The one, a man of the people, and who did more for the
people than any one had yet done, raising poverty to the su-
preme dignity, making it his choice and his protection, and
giving it a new influence over the things of heaven and earth ;
invested with that supernatural life of Christianity which has
so often conferred spiritual sovereignty on the lowest of its
children ; regarded by his contemporaries as the closest imi-
tator of Christ ; enervated during his whole life with divine
love; and by the all-powerful virtue of that love, a poet, an
actor, a lawgiver, a conqueror.

The other a layman, a knight, a pilgrim, a crusader, a
king crowned with the first Christian diadem, brave even ta

78 INTRODUCTION.

rashness, as willing to risk his life as to bend his head before
God ; a lover of danger, of humiliation, of penance: the inde-
fatigable champion of justice, of the weak and the oppressed;
the sublime personification of Christian chivalry in all its
purity, and of true royalty in all its august grandeur. Both
greedy for martyrdom, and for sacrifice ; both continually
intent on the salvation of their neighbour; both marked with
the cross of Christ. Francis in the glorious wounds which he
had in common with the crucified ; and Louis in that inmost
heart where love lies.

These two men, so similar in their nature and in their ten
dency, so well fitted to appreciate each other, never met on
earth. There is a pious and a touching, tradition that St.
Louis went on a pilgrimage to the tomb of his glorious con-
temporary, and that he there found a worthy successor of St,
Francis in one of his chosen disciples, brother ^Egidius.' The
account of their meeting is too characteristic of the age
whereof we treat, for us to omit giving it a place. St. Louis
being come, then, from Assisium to the Convent of Perousa,
where jEgidius dwelt, sent him word, that a poor pilgrim
wished to speak with him. But an interior vision instantly
revealed to the friar that the pilgrim was no other than the
holy king of France. He ran out to meet him, and as soon
as they beheld each other, although it was for the first time,
they both fell on their knees at the same moment, and ten-
derly embracing, they remained long thus without exchanging
a single word. At length they separated, arose and went
tl.eir way the king to his kingdom, the monk to his cell.
But the other brothers of the convent, having discovered that
it was the king, began to reproach JEgidius. " How," said
they, "couldst thou have been so rude, as not to speak a sin-
fie word to such a holy prince, he coming all the way from
France on purpose to see thee ?" " Ah ! my beloved breth-
ren/' replied the holy man, "be not surprised that neither ha
3*

JUiYHODUCTIOX. 19

no?I could speak; for, whilst we embraced each other, the
iighi of divine wisdom revealed his heart to me and mine to
him ; and thus, looking into each other's heart, we knew each
other far bettor than if we had spoken, and with much greater
consolation than if we had given vent to our feelings in words,
BO incapable is the human tongue of 'expressing the secret
mysteries of God !" A touching and an admirable symbo..
of that secret intelligence, of that victorious harmony which
then united lofty and holy souls, as a sublime and. eternal
compact.

It may also be said that those two great souls meet and
are completely united ill that of one woman St. Elizabeth
whose name has already occurred so often in this work. That
burning love of poverty which inflamed the seraph of As-
Bisiuin, that luxury of suffering and humiliation, that supreme
worship of obedience is suddenly enkindled in the heart of a
young princess, who, from the heart of Germany, recognises
him as her model and her father. That boundless sympathy
for the Passion of a God made man, which sent St. Louis,
barefoot, at twenty-four, to visit the holy Crown of thorns,
which impelled him to go twice under the standard of the
Cross to seek death and captivity in Africa ; that longing for
a better life which made him struggle against his friends and
family to abdicate the crown and hide his royalty under the
monastic habit ; that respect for poverty which made him
kiss the hand of every one to whom he gave alms ; his abun-
dant tears, his sweet familiarity with Joinville, and even his
conjugal tenderness : ail that is found again in the life of St.
Elizabeth, who was no less his sister by feeling and by sym-
pathy, than by their common engagement under the rule of
St, Francis.

It has been established, in our own days, that the thir-
teenth century was remarkable for the increasing influence of
fromen in the social and political world ; that they guided

INTIv JDUCTIO1C.

the helm of government in several large states,* and that
fresh homage was daily offered to them both in public and
private life. This was the inevitable consequence of that de-
votion to the Blessed Virgin, the progress of which we have
already noticed. "It must be accredited to all women,"
says a poet of that age. " that the mother of God was a
womau."f How, in fa-ei, oould kings and nations constantly
take her for mediatrix jetween her Son and them, place all
their works under her sanction, choose her for the special
object of their most ardent devotion, without giving a share
of that veneration to the sex whose representative she was
with God, as also its most perfect type ? Since woman waa
so powerful in heaven, she must needs be so on earth. But,
whilst other princesses learned to share with kings the right
of supreme command, the daughter of the King of Hungary,
the issue of a race of saints, and whose example Vas to
produce so many others, showed that there was still, for
women, a royalty of soul far above all earthly pomp ; and it
was by exercising it, unwittingly and unknown, that she
gained her place in history.

Her life, short though it be, presents, perhaps, the only
assemblage of the most varied phases, the most attractive,
and yet the most austere features which can mark the life of
a Christian, a princess and a Saint. Still, during the twenty
years which elapse from the day when she was brought to her
betrothed in a silver cradle, till that when she expired on the
hospital pallet, which she chose for her death-bed, there are
two very distinct parts, if not in her character, at least in her
exterior life. The first is all chivalric, all poetic, calculated
as much to enchain the imagination as to inspire piety. From

* Blanche of Castile ; Isabella de la Marcne, who controlled the entire policy of
King John Lack-land, her husband ; Jane, Countess of Flanders, who claimed tin
right of assisting as a peer of France, at the consecration of St. Louis.

f Frauenlab, a poem of the thirteenth century.

INTRODUCTION. 81

the interior of Hungary, that land half unknown, half east-
ern, the frontier of Christendom, which presented co the
mediaeval ages a grand and mysterious aspect,* she arrives
at the Court of Thuringia, the most brilliant and the most
poetical in all Germany. During her childhood, her preco-
cious virtue is overlooked, her piety despised ; some were for
sending her back disgracefully to her father ; but her be-
trothed remains ever faithful to her, consoles her for the per-
secution of the wicked, and as soon as he is master of his
States, hastens to marry her. The holy love of a sister min-
gles in her heart with the ardent love of a wife for him who
was first the companion of her childhood and then her hus-
band, and who vies with herself in piety and fervour ; a
charming freedom, a sweet and artless confidence presides
over their union. During all the time of their wedded life,
they certainly offer the most touching and edifying example
of a Christian marriage ; and we dare affirm that, amongst
all the Saints, none has presented in the same degree as Eliz-
abeth, the type of the Christian wife. But, amidst all the
happiness of this life, the joys of maternity, the homage
and the splendour of a chivalrous court, her soul tends al-
ready towards the eternal source of love, by mortification,
humility and the most fervent devotion; and the germs of that
more perfect life, implanted within her, grow and expand in
boundless charity, and indefatigable solicitude for the miseries
of the poor. Meanwhile, the irresistible call of the Crusade,
fche supreme duty of freeing the Holy Sepulchre, draws away
her young husband after seven years of the most tender union;
' be dares not reveal to her his still secret project, but she dis-
covers it in a moment of tender familiarity. She knows not
how to resign herself to this hard destiny ; she follows and

. TLe famous Bertha the Good, wife of Pepin, and mother of Charlemagne, th
principal heroine of the cycle of the Carlo vingian epics, was also daughter of a king
f Hungary.

f* 1~ -*v."

INTRODUCTION.

accompanies him far beyond the confines of their country; she
cannot tear herself from his arms. In the anguish which
finds her heart at this parting, and again when she hears of
the untimely death of her beloved husband, we behold all tlic
energy and tenderness of that young heart ; precious -tnd
invincible energy, worthy of being consecrated to the conquest
of heaven ; profound and insatiable tenderness which God
alone could reward and satisfy.

Thus, this separation once consummated, her whole life is

changed, and God alone engrosses the affection of her soul.

Misfortune comes on fast and heavy ; she is brutally expelled

from her royal dwelling ; she wanders through the streets

with her infant children, .a prey to cold and hunger, she who

had fed and comforted so many ! no asylum can she find, she

who had so often sheltered others 1 But, even when her

wrongs are repaired, she is no longer inclined to a worldly

life. Left a widow at the age of twenty, she rejects the hand

of the most powerful princes ; she is sick of the world ; the

ties of mortal love once broken, she feels herself moved

with divine love ; her heart, like the sacred censor, is

closed to all earthly things, and is open only to heaven. She

contracts with Christ a second and indissoluble union ; she

seeks Him and serves Him in the person of the wretched ;

after distributing all her treasures, all her possessions, when

she has nothing more to give, she then gives herself; she

becomes poor, the better to understand and to relieve the

misery of the poor ; she consecrates her life to render them

even the most repulsive services. In vain does her father,

the King of Hungary, send embassadors to bring her back to

him ; they find her at her wheel ; resolved on preferring the

kingdom of heaven to the royal splendour ofher father's court.

In tXCiange for her austerities, her voluntary poverty, the

yoke of obedience under which she daily bends, her Divine

Spouse endows her with supernatural joy and supernatural

INTRODUCTION. 88

power. In the midst of calumnies, privations, and the most
cruel mortifications, she knows not a shade of sadness ; a look,
a prayer of hers suffices to heal the diseases of her fellow-
creatures. In the bloom of youth, she is ripe for eternity ;
and she dies in the act of singing a hymn of joy which the
angels above are heard to repeat in welcome to her victorious,
soul.

Thus, in the twenty-four years of her life, we see her in
succession, a lonely and persecuted orphan, a sweet and
modest betrothed bride, a wife unequalled for tenderness and
trust, a loving and devoted mother, a sovereign more powerful
by her benefits than by her rank ; then a widow cruelly
oppressed, a penitent without sin, an austere nun, a Sister of
Charity, a fervent and favoured spouse of the God who glorifies
her by miracles before he calls her to Himself. ; and, in all the
vicissitudes of life, ever faithful to her original character, to
that perfect simplicity which is the sweetest fruit of faith and
the most fragrant perfume of charity, and which transformed
her entire life into that heavenly childishness to which Jesus
has .promised the kingdom of heaven.

So many charms so much interest in the brief mortal
existence of this young woman, are neither the creation of
the poet's fancy, nor the fruit of piety exaggerated by dis-
tance ; they are, on the contrary, verified by all the authority
of history. The profound impression which the destiny and
the heroic virtues of Elizabeth made on her age, is manifested
by the tender and scrupulous care wherewith men have gath-
ered and transmitted from generation to generation the most
trifling actions of her life, the least words that she uttered, w if h
a thousand incidents which throw light on the innermost recesses
of that pure and artless soul. We are thus enabled, at the
distance of six centuries, to give an account of that blessed
life, with all the familiar and minute details which we little
expect to find save in memoirs recently written and with

vS'-c' v ! ^- : '- "*^^ : -^^

84 INTRODUCTION.

circumstances so poetic, we would almost say so romantic
that we can scarcely help regarding them at first as the results
of an excited imagination taking pleasure in embellishing with
all its charms a heroine of romance. And yet the historical
authenticity of most of these details cannot be suspected,
being collected at the same time as her miracles, and verified
by solemn investigations immediately after her death, and
registered by grave historians in the national and contem-
poraneous annals which record the other events of the time.
In the eyes of those pious annalists, who wrote, as the people
of those days acted, under the exclusive empire of faith, so
fair a victory for Christ so much charity and solicitude for
the poor, with such shining manifestations of the power of
God, wrought by a creature so fragile and so young, appeared
as a sweet place of rest amid the storm of battles, wars, and
political revolutions.

And not only is this life so poetical and, at the same
time, so edifying certified by history, but it has received an
otherwise high sanction; it has been invested with a splendour
before which the mere products of imagination, worldly re-
nown, and the popularity given by historians and orators,
must all wax dim. It has been adorned with the fairest
crown that is known to man, that of the saint. It lias been
glorified by the homage of the Christian world. It has re-
ceived that popularity of prayer, the only one that is eternal,
universal the only one that is decreed at once by the learned
and the rich by the poor, the wretched, the ignorant bf
that immense mass of mankind who have neither time nor
inclination to busy themselves with human glories. And for
those who are influenced by imagination, what happiness to
feel that so much poetry, so many charming incidents, illus-
trative of all that is freshest and purest in the human heart,
may be remembered, extolled not, indeed, in the pages of a
romance, or on the boards of a theatre, but under the vaulted

INTRODUCTION. 85

roofs of our churches, at the foot of the holy altars, in the
effusion of the Christian soul before its God!

It may be that, blinded by that involuntary partiality
which we feel for that which has been the object of a study
and an attachment of several years, we exaggerate the beauty
and the importance of our subject. We doubt not that, even
apart from all the imperfection of our work, many may find
out that an age so remote has nothing in common with this
of ours; that this biography so minute, that this description
of customs so long exploded can present no profitable and
positi\ 7 e result to the religious ideas of our time. The simple
and pious souls, for whom alone we write, shall be our judge.
The author of this book has made a graver objection to him-
self. Seduced, at first, by the poetical, legendary, and even
romantic character which the life of St. Elizabeth presents to
a cursory view, he found himself as it were, according as he
advanced, engaged in the study of an admirable development
of the ascetic strength engendered by faith with the revela-
tion of the most profound mysteries of Christian initiation.
He then asked himself whether he had a right to undertake
such a work; whether the sublime triumphs of religion were
not to be reserved for writers who could .do honour to religion,
or who, at least, might be exclusively devoted to it. He
could not but feel that he had no mission for such a work,
and it was with tremulous apprehension that he accomplished
a task which seems so unsuited to his weakness, his age, aud
his lay character.

Nevertheless, after long hesitation, he yielded to the im-
pulsive idea of giving some connection to studies so protrasted
and so conscientious, together with the desire of presenting
to the friends of religion and of historical truth the faithful
and complete picture of the life of a saint of former days
of ons of those beings who summed up within themselves all
the faith aud all the pure affections of the Christian agesj to

B INTRODUCTION.

paint them, as much as possible, in the hues of their time,
and to show them in all the splendour of that perfect beauty
tfherevyith the} 7 presented themselves to the minds of men in
*he middle ages.

We are well aware that, to reproduce such a life in all ita
integrty, it is necessary to place ourselves face to face with a
whole order of facts and of ideas long since struck with repro-
kdtiou by the vague religiosity of latter times, and which. a
timorous though sincere piaty has too often excluded from
religious history We allude to the supernatural phenomena
so abundant in the lives of the Saints, consecrated by faith
under the name of miracles, and eschewed by worldly wisdom
under the name of "legends," "popular superstitions," "fabu-
lous traditions." Many such are found in the life of St. Eliza-
beth. TLese we have endeavoured to reproduce with the
same scrupulous exactness which we have used in all the rest
of the nartauve. The very thought of omitting, or even of
extenuating tbt-rc, interpreting them with prudent modera-
tion, would bavo been revolting to us. It would have ap-
peared to us a ,vo.rilege to gloss over or conceal what we
believe to be true, to pander to the proud reason of our age; it
would have been a culpable error, too, for these miracles are
related by the same auvbors, established by the same author-
ity, as are all the other events of our biography. Nor could
\re well have fixed any rule whereby to admit their veracity
in some cases and reject it ia others ; in short, it would have
bten nothing better than hypocrisy, for we candidly acknow-
ledge that we firmly believe all that has ever been recorded
as most miraculous of the Saints of God in general, and of
St. Elizabeth in particular. Nor does this imply any sort of
victoi'y over our own weak reason; for nothing appeared to us
more reasonable, more simple for a Christian, than to bend in
gratitude before the Lord's mercy, when he sees it suspend,or
modify the natural laws which it alone has created, to secure

INTRODUCTION. 8"J

A enhance the triumph of the still higher laws of the moral
veligu-us order. Is it not both sweet and easy to con-
eiv 1 how soul/, like those of St. Elizabeth and her contempo-
ari^s, exalted by faith arid humility far above the cold rea-
soning of t'bb world, purified by every sacrifice and every
rirtue, accustomed to live beforehand in heaven, presented to
the goodnes'j of God a theatre ever prepared ; how much,
too. the fervent and simple faith of the people called forth,
and. if we may venture to say so, justified the frequent and
familiar intervention of that Almighty poAver rejected and
denied by the insensate pride of ouv days !

Hence it is with a mixture of love and respect that we
have Jong studied those innumerable traditions of faithful
generations, wherein faith and Christian poesy, the highest
lessons of religion and the most delightful creations of the
imagination are blended in a union so intimate that it can by
no means be dissqlved. But even if we had not the happi-
ness of believing with entire simplicity in the wonders of
divine power, which they relate, never could we venture to
despise the innocent belief which has moved and delighted
millions of our brethren for so many ages ; all that is puerile
in them is elevated and sanctified to us, by having been the
object of our fathers' faith of our fathers who were nearer
Christ than we are. We have not the heart to despise what
they believed with so much fervour, loved with so much con-
stancy. Far from that: we will freely confess that we have often
found in them both help ajid consolation, and in this we are
not alone; for if they are everywhere despised by people who
call themselves learned and enlightened, there are still places
where these sweet traditions have remained dear to the pool
and the simple. We have found them cherished in Ireland,
hi the Tyrol, and especially in Italy, and in more than one
of the French provinces ; we have gathered them from the
words of the people, and the tears which flowed from their

88 INTRODUCTION.

eyes ; they have still an altar in the fairest of all
the hearts of the people. We will even venture to say that
something is wanting to the human glory of those Saints who
have not been invested with this touching popularity who
have not received, with the homage of the Church, that
tribute of humble love and familiar confidence which is paid
under the cottage-roof, by the evening hearth, from the mouth
and heart of the unlettered poor. Elizabeth, endowed by
heaven with such absolute simplicity, and who, in the midst
of royal splendour, preferred to all other society that of the
poor and the miserable ; Elizabeth, the friend, the mother,
the. servant of the poor, could not be forgotten by them; and
in that sweet remembrance do we find the secret of the charm-
ing incidents which we shall have to relate.

But this is not the place to discuss that grave question of
the credence due to the miracles in the lives of the Saints ; it
suffices for us to have declared our own point of view ; even
had it been different, it would not have prevented us from
writing the life of St. Elizabeth, from showing all that Catho-
lics believed of her, and giving an account of the glory and
the influence which her miracles have obtained for her amongst
the faithful. In all medieval study, the implicit faith of the
people, the unanimity of public opinion, give, to the popular
traditions inspired by religion, a force which the historian
cannot but appreciate. So that even independent of their
theological value, one cannot, without blindness, overlook the
part which they have at all times played in poetry and in
history.

With regard to poetry, it would be difficult to deny thai
they contain an inexhaustible mine ; a fact which will be
every day recognised more and more, according as the human
mind returns to the source of true beauty. -Even were we
forced to regard these legends, but as the Christian my tho-
logy, according to the contemptuous expression of the great

, f

INTRODUCTION. 89

philosophers of our days, still we should find in them a source
of poetry infinitely more pure, abundant, and original, than the
worn-out mythology of Olympus. But how can we be sur-
prised that they have been so long refused all right to poetic
influence ? The idolatrous generations who had 1 concentrated
all their enthusiasm on the monuments and institutions of pa-
ganism, and the impious generations who have dignified with
the name of poetry the filthy effusions of the last century,
could neither of them give even a name to that exquisite fru-it
of Catholic faith; they could offer it only one kind of homage,
viz. that of scoffing and insult, this they have clone.

In a purely historical point of view, popular traditions,
and especially those which belong to religion, if they have not
a mathematical certainty if they are not what are called
positive facts, they are, at least, quite as powerful, and have
exercised a far greater power over the passions and morals of
the people than facts the most iucontestible for human reason.
On this account they assuredly merit the respect and atten-
tion of every serious historian and profound critic.

So it ought to be with every man who is interested in the
supremacy of spiritualism in the progress of the human race ;
who places the worship of moral beauty above the exclusive
domination of material interests and inclinations. For it must
not be forgotten that, at the basis of all beliefs, even the most-
puerile, and superstitions the most absurd that have prevailed
at any time amongst Christian people, there was always a
formal recognition of supernatural power, a generous declara-
tion in favour of the dignity of man fallen indeed but not
irretrievably. Everywhere and always there was stamped on
these popular convictions the victory of mind over matter, of
the invisible over the visible, of the innocent glory of man
over his misfortune, of the primitive purity of nature over ita
corruption. The most trifling Catholic legend has gained
more hearts to those immortal truths than all the disserta-

90 INTRODUCTION.

tions of philosophers. It is always the sentiment of .that glo-
rious sympathy between the Creator and the creature, be-
tween heaven and earth, which beams upon us through the
mists of ages ; but whilst pagan antiquity stammered out this
idea, giving its gods all the vices of humanity, Christian ages
here proclaimed it, elevating humanity and the world regene-
rated by faith, to the very height of heaven.

In the ages of which we speak, such apologies as these
would have been superfluous. !No one in- Christian society
doubted the truth -and the ineffable sweetness of these pious
traditions. Men lived in a sort of tender and intimate famili-
arity with those amongst their fathers whom God had mani-
festly called to himself, and whose sanctity the Church had
proclaimed. That Church, who had placed them on her
altars, certainly could not blame her children if they thronged,
with indefatigable tenderness, to lay the flowers of their mind
and their imagination before those witnesses of eternal truth.

They had already received the palm of victory ; those who
^ere still doing battle delighted to congratulate them, and
to learn from them how to conquer. Ineffable affections, salu-
tary connections, were thus formed between the Saints of the
Church triumphant and the humble combatants of the Church
militant. Each one chose from that glorious company a father
a mother a friend under whose protection he walked with
greater confidence and security towards the eternal light.
From the king and the pontiff down to the poorest artisan,
each had a special thought in heaven ; in the midst of war-
fare, in the dangers and sorrows of life, these holy friendships
exercised their strengthening and consoling influence. St.
Louis, dying beyond the seas for the Cross, fervently invoked
the humble shepherdess who was the protectress of his capital.
The brave Spaniards, overpowered by the Moors, beheld St.
James, their patron, in the midst of their ranks, and, return
ing to the charge, speedily turned the scale of victory. The

INTRODUCTION, 01

knights and nobles had for their patrons St. Michael and St
George ; for their patronesses. St. Catharine and St. Mar>
garet : and if they happened to die as prisoners and martyrs 1
for the faith, they invoked St. Agnes, who had bent her young
and virginal head beneath the axe. The labourer saw in the
Churches the image of St. Isidore with his plough, and of St.
Nothburga, the poor Tyrolese servant, with her sickle. The
poor, in general, the lowly and the hard-working, met at
every step that gigantic St. Christopher bending under the
weight of the child Jesus, and found in him the model of that
hard life of toil whose harvest is heaven. Germany was
peculiarly fertile in such pious practices, as we now clearly
perceive while studying its pure and artless spirit, so totally
void of the sarcasm, the scoffing sneer which blights all
p03try while studying its language, so rich and so expres-
sive. It would be an endless task to specify all the innu-
merable bonds which thus connected heaven and earth ; to
penetrate into that vast region, where all the affections and *
all the duties of mortal life were mingled and intertwined with
immortal protection ; where souls, even the most neglected
and the most solitary, found a world of interest and consola-
tion exempt from all mundane disappointments. Men thus
exercised themselves in loving in this world those whom they
were to love in the other ; they calculated on finding beyond
the grave the holy protectors of their infancy, the s,weet
friends of their childhood, the faithful guardians of their
whole existence ; .there was but one vast love which united
the two'lives of man, and which, commenced amid the storms
of time, was prolonged throughout the glories of eternity.

But all that faith, and all that tender affection, which,
bound to heaven the hearts of the men of those times, met
and settled down on one supreme image. All these pioua
traditions, some local, others personal, were eclipsed and en-
grossed by those which the entire world told of Mary. Queen

2 INTRODUCTIOir.

of the earth as well as of heaven, whilst every brow and every
heart bowed down before her, every mind was inspired by
her glory ; whilst the earth was covered with sanctuaries and
cathedrals in her honour, the imagination of those poetic
generations never ceased to discover some new perfection,
some new charm, in the midst of that supreme beauty. Each
day brought forth some more marvellous legend, some new
ornament which the gratitude of the world offered to her
who had re-opened the gates of heaven, who had replenished
the ranks of the Angels, who had indemnified man for the sin
of Eve the humble " handmaid," crowned by God with the
diadem which Michael wrested from Lucifer when casting him
into the depths of hell. " Thou must indeed hear us," said
one with exquisite simplicity, "for we have so much happiness
in honouring thee." "Ah!" cries Walter Von de Vogelweide,
" let us ever praise that sweet Yirgin, to whom her Son can
refuse nothing. This is our supreme consolation : in heaven
she does whatever she wishes !" And full of unwavering
confidence in the object of so much love, convinced of her
maternal vigilance, Christendom referred to her all its troubles
and all its dangers, and reposed in that confidence, according
to the beautiful idea of a poet of Elizabeth's time.

In the spirit of those ages, wherein there was so great an
abundance of faith and love, two rivers had inundated the
world ; it had not only been redeemed by the blood of Jesus,
it had been also purified by the milk of Mary by that milk
which had been the nourishment of God on earth, and which
reminded Him of heaven ; it had incessant need o'f both j
nnd in the words of a pious monk who wrote the life of
Elizabeth before us, " All are entitled to enter the family of
Christ, when they make a proper use of the blood of their
Redeemer and their Father, and of the milk of the sacred
Virgin, their mother ; yes, of that adorable blood which en-
courages the martyrs and soothes their torments * * * * *

*i^i^*>&*ff22^

INTRODUCTION. 93

and of that virginal milk which sweetens the bitterness of oar
cup by appeasing the wrath of God." And again, we must
say. the enthusiasm of this filial tenderness was not enough
for those souls so devout towards the Virgin Mother. They
required a sentiment more tender, if possible, more familiar,
more encouraging, the sweetest and the purest that man can
conceive. After all, had not Mary been a mere mortal, a
weak woman, acquainted with all the mieries of life ; who
bad endured calumny, and exile, and cold, and hunger ? Ah!
it was more than a mother ; it was a sister that Christian
people loved and cherished in her ! Hence she was con-
stantly implored to remember that fraternity so glorious for
the exiled race ; hence, too, a great Saint, the most ardent
of her votaries, hesita.ted not to invoke her thus : " O Mary,"
said he, " we beseech thee, as Abraham besought Sara in the
land of Egypt * * * * Mary! our Sara ! say that
thou art our sister, so that for thy sake God may look favour-
ably on us, and that, through thee, our souls may live in God!
Say it, then, our beloved Sara! say that thou art our sister,
and because of our having such a sister, the Egyptians that
is to say, the devils will be afraid of us ; because, of such
a nister, the angels will stand in battle by our side ; and the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost will have mercy on us
on account of our sister."

It was thus that they loved Mary those Christians of
former days. But when their love had embraced heaven and
its queen, and all its blessed inhabitants, it descended again
to the earth to people and love it in its turn. The earth
which had been assigned for their dwelling the earth, that
beautiful creation of God became also the object of their
fertile solicitude, of their ingenuous affection. Men who were
then called learned, and perhaps justly, studied nature with
the scrupulous care wherewith Christians ought to study the
works of God ; but they could not think of regarding it as a

94 INTRODUCTION.

body without superior life ; they ever sought in it mysterious
relations with the duties and religious belief of man ransomed
by his God ; they saw in the habits of animals, in the phe-
nomena of plants, in the singing of birds, in the virtue's of
precious stones, so many symbols of truth consecrated by
faith.* Pedantic nomenclatures had not yet invaded aui
profaned the world which Christianity had regained for the
true God. When,, at night, the poor man raised his eyes to
the blue dome above, he saw there, instead of- the Milky Way
of Juno, the road which conducted his brethren to the pll-
grhnage of Compostella, or that by which the Blessed went
to heaven. Flowers, especially, presented a world peopled
with the most charming images, and a mute language which
expressed the liveliest and most tender sentiments. The
people joined the learned in giving to those sweet objects of
their daily attention the names of those whom they loved the
most, the names of Apostles, of favourite Saints, or of Saints
whose innocence and purity seemed reflected in the spotless
beauty of the flowers. Our Elizabeth, too, had her flower,
humble and hidden, as she always wished to be. But Mary
especially that flower of flowers that rose without a thorn
that lily without a spot,f had an innumerable quantity of
flowers, which her name rendered fairer and dearer to the
people. Every minute detail of the garments which she wore
on earth was represented by some flower more graceful than
the others ; these were as relics scattered everywhere, and
incessantly renewed. The great lights of our days hare
thought it better to replace her sweet memory by that of

* The study of nature, under this point of view, was very common in the thir-
teenth century, as we see by the Speculum naturale of Vincent de Beauvais, and
a vast number of other works.

t Lilium -line macula, rosa sine spinis, flos jloruni, phrases from the ancient
liturgy of the Church, a thousand times repeated by poets of all countries in the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Vagamia *osa, says, also, St. AlphonBua d
Liguori iu bia Ocutson<^na M onore di Maria santiatima*

IW1 RODUCTION. 95

Venus.* Sympathy was accounted mutual ; the earth owed
gratitude for that association in the religion of man. People
went, on Christmas night, to announce to the forest-trees that
Christ was come : Aperiatur terra et germinal Salvatorem,
Hut the earth, in return, was to give roses and anemones in
the place where man shed his blood, and .ilies where he shed
tears. When a saintly woman died, all the flowers around
were to wither at the moment, or bow down as her coffin
passed. We can conceive that ardent fraternity which united
St. Francis with all nature, animate and inanimate, and which,
drew from him exclamations so plaintive and so admirable.
All Christians had then, more or less, the same sentiment ;
for the earth, now so lonely, so barren for the soul, was then
impregnated with immortal beauty. The birds, the plants,
all that man met on his way, all that had life, had been
marked by him with his faith and his life. This earth was
one vast kingdom of love, and also of science ; for all had its
reason, and its reason in faith. Like those burning rays
which shot from the wounds of Christ, and impressed the
sacred stigma on the limbs of Francis of Assisium, even so
did the beams from the heart of the Christian race, of simple
and faithful man, stamp on every particle of nature the remem-
brance of heaven, the imprint of Christ, the seal of love.

Yes, the world was, as it were, an immense volume wherein
fifty generations inscribed during twelve centuries their faith,
their emotions, their dreams, with infinite tenderness and pa-
tience. Not only had every mystery of faith, every triumph
of the cross its page therein, but also every flower, every fruit ;
every animal figured there in its turn. As in the ancient mis*
sals and great anthem-books of the old cathedrals, beside the

* Foi instance, the flower which in European tongue was called the Virgin 1 !
shoe, has been named Oypripedium Calceolus. A thousand other instances could
be given of the gross materialism which distinguishes thso heathenish nomencl*
tarn. But this is called the progress

06 IKTR3DUCTIO1T.'

brilliant paintings which portray with inspiration at once ao
warm and so profound the great scenes of the life of Christ
and of the saints, the text of the laws of God and of His
divine Word was seen surrounded by all the beauties of
nature ; all animated beings were there brought together to
sing the praises of the Lord, and angels came forth for that
purpose from the cnp of every flower. This was the Legend,
the reading of the poor and the simple, the Gospel adapted
for their use, Biblia pauperum I Their innocent eyes discov-
ered therein a thousand beauties the sense of which is now
for ever lost. Heaven and earth 'appeared therein peopled
irith the most exquisite skill. Well might they sing with sin-
cerity of heart, Pleni sunt cceli et terra gloria tua Heaven
and -earth are full of Thy glory !

Who can calculate how impoverished life is since then ?
Who thinks now-a-days of the imagination of the poor, the
heart of the ignorant ?

Oh! the world was then wrapt up by faith, as it were, in
a beneficent veil which concealed all earthly wounds, and be-
came transparent for the splendour of heaven. Now, it is
otherwise ; the earth is all naked, heaven is all veiled.

To clothe the world in this consoling vesture, it required
the complete and unreserved union of the two principles which
were so wonderfully united in Elizabeth and her age simpli-
city and faith. Now, as every one knows and says, they have
disappeared from the mass of society ; the former, especially,
has been completely extirpated, not only from public life, but
also from poetry, from private and domestic life, from the
few asylums where the other has remained. It was not with-
out consummate skill that the atheistic science and impious
philosophy of modern times pronounced their divorce before
condemning them to die. When once their holy and sweet
alliance had been broken up, those two celestial sisters could
only meet in some few obscure souls, amongst some scattered

|pKfWiPPP^

INTRODUCTION 9?

and neglected people; and then they walked separately to
death.

It is unnecessary to say, however, that this death was
only apparent only exile. They kept in the bosom of the
imperishable Church, the cradle whence' they went forth to
people and decorate the world. All men may find them
there ; all men may likewise trace their course by the im-
mortal relics which they scattered as they went, and which
none have yet succeeded in annihilating. Then* number is so
great, their beauty so striking, that one might be tempted to
believe that God had designedly permitted all the exterior
charms of Catholicity to fall a moment into oblivion, so as
that those who remained faithful to it through all the proba-
tions of modern times might have the ineffable happiness of
finding them out and revealing them anew.

There, then, lies a whole world to regain for history and
poetry. Even piety will find new treasures in it. Let none
reproach us with stirring up ashes for ever extinguished, or
searching amid irreparable ruins; that which would be true
of human institutions has no application to the subject before
us at least, as Catholics believe for, if it be true that the
Church is undying, it follows that nothing that her hand has
once touched, her breath inspired, can die for ever. It suffices
that she has deposited there a germ of her own principle, a
ray of the fadeless and immutable beauty which she received
with her life. If it has once been so, it is in vain that the
clouds darken around, that the snows of winter are heaped
above it ; it is always time to dig out the root, to shake off
some modern dust, to break asunder some factitious bonds, to
replant it in some genial soil, and restore to the flower the
bloom and the perfume of former days.

We should not like to have it inferred, from the ideas
trbich we have put forward, that we are blind admirers of

the middle ages, that we see in them every thing admirable,

98 INTRODUCTION'.

enviable and irreproachable, and that, in our own age, we
consider the nations wholly incurable. Far be it from us to
waste our energies in vain regrets and our sight in useless
tears over the grave of generations passed away. We know
that the Son of God died on the cross to save humanity, not
for five or six centuries, but for the whole period of the
world's existence. We think not that the Word of God has
failed or that his arm is shortened. The mission of pure maa
remains the same ; the Christian has still his salvation to_
work out, and his neighbour to serve. We regret not, then
though we admire them any of the human institutions which
have perished according to the lot of human things, but we
do bitterly regret the soul, the divine breath whereby they
were animated, and which has departed from those that have
replaced them. We preach not, then, either the barren con-
templation of the past, or a contempt for and base desertion
of the present. Once more we repeat, far be such a thought
from our minds. But as the exile, banished from his native land
for having remained faithful to the eternal laws, sends many
a loving thought back to those who have loved him, and who
await his return to his native land ; as the soldier fighting on
distant shores is inflamed at the recital of the victories gained
there by his fathers; so it is permitted us, whom our faith
renders as exiles amid modern society, to raise our hearts and
eyes towards the blessed inhabitants of our heavenly home,
and, humble soldiers as we are of the cause which has glorified
them, to gather courage also from the remembrance of their
struggles and their victories.

We know but too well what crimes and sufferings and
complaints there were in the ages which we have studied ; as
there always were, and always shall be, so long as the earth
is peopled with fallen and sinful men. But we think that be-
tween the evils of those ages and those of our own times there
are two incalculable differences. In the first place, the energy

* WTTRpDUCTIOJC. 9lft

of-evil was everywhere met by an energy of gootl which seemed
to increase by being provoked to the combat, and by which it
was incessantly and manifestly overcome. This glorious re-
sistance had its origin in the force of convictions winch were
recognised in their influence over the entire life ; to say that
this force has not diminished according as faith and roligioua
practice have departed from souls, would assuredly be in con-
tradiction to the experience of history and the world's memory
We are far from disputing the splendid progress that is- made
under certain relations^ but we will say with an eloquent
writer of the present time, whose own words will acquit him
of any partiality for by-gone ages : " Morality is, undoubt-
edly, more enlightened in these days ; bat is it stronger ?
Where is the heart that does not thrill with delight, seeing
the triumph of equality ?***# j only fear that in
taking so just a view of his rights, man may have lost some-
what of the sense of his. duties. It is truly painful to seo
that, in this progress of all things, moral foice has not in-
creased."

Those evils from which the world then suffered and of
which it justly complained, were all physical, all material.
Person, property, bodily freedom, were exposed, outraged,
trampled on more than they now are, in certain countries ;
this we are free" to admit. But then the soul, the conscience,
the heart, were sound, pure, untainted, free from that fright-
ful inward disease by which they are now gnawed. Each one
knew what he had to believe, what he might learn, what he
was to think of all those problems of human life and human
destiny, which are now so many sources of torment for the souls
whom they have again succeeded in paganising. Misfortune,
poverty, oppression, which are now no more extirpated than
they formerly were, stood not up before the man of those
times as a dread fatality of which he was the innocent victim.
Ho suffered from them, but he understood them : he might

100 INTRODUCTION.

be overwhelmed by them, but he never desp&'red ; for heaven
still remained to him, and man could interrupt none of the
means of communication between the prison of his body* and
the home of his soul. There was a sound and robust moral
health which neutralised all the diseases of the social body,
opposing to them an all-powerful antidote, a positive, a uni-
versal, a perpetual consolation faith. That faith which had
penetrated the world, which claimed all men without excep-
tion, which had infused itself into all the pores of society like
a beneficent sap, offering to all infirmities a simple and an
effectual remedy, the same for all, within reach of all, under-
stood by all, accepted by all.

Now, the evil is still there ; it is not only present, but
known, studied, analysed with extreme care ; its dissection
would be perfect, its autopsy exact ; but where are the reme-
dies to prevent that vast body from becoming a corpse ? Its
new leeches have spent four hundred years in drying it up, in
sucking put that divine and salutary sap which constituted its
life. What substitute are they going to give ?

It is now time to judge of the course which they have led
humanity to pursue. Christian nations have allowed their
mother to be dethroned ; those tender and powerful hands
which had a sword ever ready to avenge their wrongs, a
balm to heal all their wounds, they have seen loaded with
chains ; the wreath of flowers has been tovn from her brow,
and soaked in the acid of reason till every leaf fell off, withered
and lost. Philosophy, despotism and anarchy led her captive
before men loading her with insult and contumely ; then they
shut her up in a dungeon which they called her tomb, and at
its door all three kept watch.

And yet she has left in the world a void which nothing
ever can fill; not only is it that all faithful hearts deplore her
misfortunes; that every soul that is not yet contaminated
sighs after a purer air than that of the world which her ab*

i|li|ll||plp^

INTRODUCTION. 101

fence has made pestiferous ; that all those who have not yet
lost the sentiment of their dignity and of their immortal ori-
gin demand to be brought back to her fold ; but, above all,
those afflicted souls, who seek everywhei'e, but in vain, a
remedy for their sorrows, an explanation of their dreary lot,
who find nowhere aught save the empty and mournful place
of ancient faith, -these who will not and 'cannot be consoled,
gui non sunt.

Well ! we firmly believe that a day will come when hu-
manity will seek to emerge from the desert which has been
made around her; she will ask for the songs that soothed her
childhood, she will'sigh to breathe again the perfumes of her
youth, to moisten her parched lips at her mother's breast, and
to taste once more before she dies that pure, fresh milk which
nourished her infancy. And the gates of that mother's prison
shall be broken by the shock of so many suffering souls ; and
she will go forth fairer, stronger, more benign than ever.
She will no longer wear the fresh and simple beauty of her
early years, when she had just escaped from the first bloody
persecutions ; hers will then be the -grave and majestic loveli-
ness of the strong woman, who has read over the histories of
martyrs and confessors, and added thereto her own page. In
her eyes shall be seen the traces of tears, and on her brow the
deep furrows made by suffering ; she will only appear more
worthy the homage and adoration of those who have suffered
like herself.

She will resume her new and glorious course, the end
whereof is only known to God ; but while awaiting the time
when the world will again solicit her to preside over its af-
fairs, her faithful children know that they can every day
receive from her infinite help and consolation. Hence it' is
that they the children of light need not fear what a faith-
less world calls her decay ; amidst the darkness which that
world gathers around them, they will neither be dazzled nor

INTRODUCTION.

led astray by any of the false meteors of the gloomy night
Culm and confident, they remain with their eyes fixed in
steadfast hope on that eternal East which never ceases to
ell me for them, and where generations, seated in the shadow
oi death, shall also one day behold the only true and sacred
Snn ready to overpower with his triumphant splendour the
ingratitude of men. '

In conclusion, far be it from us to attempt solving what is
called " the problem of the age," or giving a key to all the
conflicting intelligence of our days. Our ideas are not so am-
bitious. We are rath'er of opinion that all such presumptuous
projects are struck with radical sterility. All the vast and
most progressive systems which human wisdom has brought
forth, as substitutes for religion, have never succeeded in
interesting any but the learned, the ambitious, or, at most,
the prosperous and happy. But the great majority of man-
kind can never come under these categories. The great ma-
jority of men are suffering, and suffering from moral as well
as physical evils. Man's first bread is grief, and his first
want is consolation. Now, which of these systems has ever
consoled an afflicted heart or re-peopled a lonely one ?
Which of their teachers has ever shown men how to wipe
away a tear ? Christianity alone has, from the beginning,
promised to console man in "the sorrows incidental to life, by
purifying the inclinations of his heart; and she alone has kept
her promise. Thus, let us bear in mind that, before we think
of replacing her, we should commence by clearing the earth
of pain and sorrow.

Such are the thoughts which animated ns while writing
the life of Elizabeth of Hungary, who loved much and suf-
fered much, but whose affections were all purified by religion,
and her sufferings all consoled. We offer to our brethren in
the faith a book differing in its subject and in its form from
the spirit of the age in which we live. But simplicity, humiV

INTROD.UCTION.

103

itj and charity, whose wonders we are about to relate, are,
like the God who inspires them, above all times and places.
We-only ask that this work may bear to some simple or sor-
rowful souls a reflection of the sweet emotions which we have
enjoyed while writing it 1 May it ascend to the Eternal
Throne as an> humble and timid spark from that old Catholic
flame which is not yet extinct in all' hearts I
Stir IST, 1836^

of the Translation of St.

ST. ELIZABETH, OF HUNGiKY,

DUCHESS OF THURING-IA

CHAPTER I.

HOW DUKE HERMANN REIGNED EN THURINGIA, AND KING ANDRJ W IS
HUNGARY, AND HOW THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH WAS BOR AT
PRESBOURG, AND WAS BROUGHT TO EISENACH.

to
Quasi stella matutina in medio nebulae. Eccles. L 6.

" Elizabeth fiit fllle d'ung noble roy, et flit noble de lignage ; mais elle fat plus
noble par foy et religion ; et sa tres noble lignee elle 1'ennoblit par example ; elle
I'esclairchit par miracle ; elle 1'embellit par grace de saintite." Jean Levefre, Ann,
de JTaitxiut, i. xlvi.

AMONGST the princes who reigned in Germany at the com-
mencement of the thirteenth century, there was not one more
powerful or more renowned than Hermann, Landgrave, or
Duke of Thuringia, and Count Palatine of Saxony. The
courage and talents which he hod inherited with the posses-
sions of his illustrious father, Louis Le Ferre, one of the
most remarkable princes of the middle ages the special pro-
tection of Pope Innocent III. his near relationship to the
emperor Frederic Barbarossa, whose nephew he was his
friendship with king Ottocar of Bohemia, and the houses of

Saxony, Bavaria, and Austria the position of his vast
5*

106 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

estates in the centre of Germany, extending from the Lahn
to the Elbe all combined to confer on him considerable
political importance.

Though he was not one of the seven electors of the Holy
Roman empire, it .was nevertheless his influence which deter-
mined their choice, and his alliance was decisive of the suc-
cess of any pretender to the imperial crown, lie was thus
more than once the arbiter of the destiny of the empire.
'' When a king is found wanting in the proper exercise of his
power, or is known to exceed its limits," says a contemporary
poet, " the Lord of Thuringia takes away his crown, and
gives it to whom he wills." It was principally to this influ-
ence that the celebrated emperor Frederic II. owed his election
in the year 1211.

It was not alone the power of Hermann that attracted to
him the respect of all Germany ; he was still more distin-
guished for his boundless generosity, learning, and piety. He
never retired to rest without having heard or read a lesson
from the Holy Scriptures. In his youth he had studied at
Paris, which was then the sanctuary of all learning, sacred
and profane ; he had an ardent love of poetry ; during his
reign he collected carefully the heroic poems of the ancient
Germans, and employed a number of writers to transcribe
the songs of the old masters. -

Living at the epoch in which Catholic and chivalrous
poetry shed its purest ray on Germany, he comprehended
all its immortal beauty, though he could not, like the emper'-r
Henry VI. and a number of .the princes and nobles of his
time, take his place amongst the bards of love (Minnesinger}
and hear, like them, his verses chaunted in the baron's hal!
and peasant's hut ; yet none of them could surpass him ii?
admiration of the gai savoir, or in munificence and affectior
towards all poets ; they composed his society, and were the
Directs of his most tender solicitude. His court was a home

OF HUNGARY. 101

to every child of song, and to the end. of his stormy life he
preserved this predilecti >n of his early years. His glory and
his virtues have been well commemorated, for his namo is
mentioned in the " Titurel," the " Parcifal," and in all the
most popular monuments of natimal 'poetry. Thus "Walther
Von cler Vogelweide, the greatest poet of that period, has
said of him, " Other princes are most clement, but none is so
generous as he. He was. so, and is still. No one suffers from
his caprice. Tfte flower of Thuringia blooms in the midst of
the snow ; the summer and the winter of its glory are as mild
and beautiful as was its spring."

It happened in the year 1206, that Duke Hermann being
at his Castle of Wartbourg, situated on a height above the
town of Eisenach, assembled at his court six of the most
renowned poets of Germany, viz : Heinrich Schrieber, Wal-
ther Yon der Yogelweide, Wolfram D'Eschenback, Reinhart
de Zwetzeny all four knights of ancient lineage ; Bitterolf,
comptroller of the household, and Heinrich D'Ofterdingen,
A simple burgess of Eisenach. A violent rivalry was soon
declared between the five poets of noble birth, and the poor
Heinrich, who was at least their equal in talent and popu-
larity. Tradition accuses them of having sought his life, and
relates that one day. the five rushed upon him, and would
hare killed him, but that he escaped, an.d took refuge with the
Duchess Sophia, who hid him under the folds of her mantle.
When this occurred the duke was engaged in hunting.

To put an end to their differences, they agreed to meet in
a public and final combat before the Duke and his court ; they
also required the presence of the executioner, rope in hand,
and he was to hang, during the sitting of the assembly, him
whose verses should be declared inferior to those of his rivals,
thus showing that in their eyes glory and life were insepa-
rable. The Duke consented, and pre ided himself at this
Bolemn strife, the fame whereof was spread throughout Ger

108 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

many, and at which assembled a crowd of knights and
nobles.

The combatants sang by turns, and in the most varied
forms, the euiogiums of their favourite princes the great
mysteries of religion the laysterious marriage of the soul
with the body at the resurrection the inexhaustible clemency
of God the efficacy of repentance the empire of the cross
and, above all, the glories of Mary, the beloved of God,
more beautiful than mercy, more brilliant than the sun.
These songs, preserved by the audience, are still extant, under
the title of " The War of Wartbourg."

This collection forms at the present day one of the most
important monuments of Germanic literature, being at once
a treasury of ancient and popular traditions, and serving to
show what an influence poetry exercised on the society, learn-
ing, and faith of that age.

It was impossible to decide the merits of the rival minstrels,
and it was agreed that Heinrich D'Ofterdingen should set out
for Transylvania, there to seek the renowned master, Kling-
sohr, so celebrated for his knowledge of the seven liberal
arts, and for his proficiency in astronomy and necromancy ;
tradition says that even spirits were forced to obey him, and,
to secure his great services, the king of Hungary granted
him a pension of 3,000 marks of silver. A delay of one year
was granted to Heinrich to perform this journey, and at the
appointed day he returned to Eisenach, accompanied by
Klingsohr.

Whilst all the chivalry of Germany were engaged in
debating on the merits of this combat, the fame of which wag
to descend to posterity, the Lord, always careful of the glory
of his elect, ordained that it should surround with a halo of
poesy and popular glory the cradle of one of His most humble
servants.

Klingsohr being arrived at Eiseracb, sojourned at the

P|P?fS3?piSsJ'flppPP5^^

l!|K"&H^">fK?^ ^-:~ -'"'-'?" ''!: ''' : '* --v 7 "" l'" ; -f" :>/ '? L ' - ';-'' ^-''"^

OF HUNGARY. 109

hostel of Henry Hellgref, at the left side of St. George's
Gate, descended on the evening of his arrival into the garden
of his host, wherein were several of the nobles of Hesse and
Thuringia, come expressly to visit him j there were there also
officers of the Dueal court, and a number of the honest
townsmen of Eisenach, who, according to an ancient and still
existing custom in Germany, came there to drink the evening
cup. These good people surrounded the sage, and asked him
to tell them something new ; upon which he began to con-
template the stars attentively for a long time. At length he
said to them, " I will tell you something both new and
joyous. I see a beautiful star rising in Hungary, the rays of
which extend to Marbourg, and from Marbourg over all the
world. Know even that on this night there is born to my
lord, the king of Hungary, a daughter, who shall be named
Elizabeth. She shall be given in marriage to the son of your
prince, she shall become a saint, and her sanctity shall rejoice
and console all Christendom."

The bystanders heard these "words with great joy, and
next morning the knights returned to Wartbourg, to tell the
news to the Landgrave, whom they met as he was going to
mass. Not wishing to distract his attention, they waited
until after the celebration of the holy sacrifice, and then they
related to him all that had occurred on the previous evening.
It was a matter of surprise to the prince, and to the whole
court, and, calling for his horse, the Landgrave went with a
numerous escort to visit Klingsohr, and to entreat him to
return with him to Wartbourg. There he was treated with
the highest honour, and the "priests paid him the same
reverence that they would to a bishop," says a contemporary
writer.

The Landgrave made him dine at the royal table, and after
the repast they conversed for a long time. Hermann, whose
paternal anxiety was already awakened, asked him many

10 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

jue&iiuns relative to the affairs of Hungary, whether the king
sras engaged in many undertakings, whether he was at peace
yiih the infidels, or whether the war had re-commenced.
Itlingsohr satisfied his curiosity by entering into all these
details ; after which he engaged himself in the great cause
which had brought him to Eisenach. He presided at the new
contest of the poets, and succeeded in allaying the hatred
which the noble rivals entertained against Heinrich, and made
them publicly recognise his merit. He then returned to
Hungary as he came, and that was, according to popular
tradition, in a single night.

Now, Hungary was governed by king Andrew II., whose
reign was agreeable to God and to the people. Illustrious
by his wars against the pagan nations that surrounded his
dominions, he was still more so by his earnest piety and
generosity to the Church and to the poor. Some of the vast
gold rnfnes which still enrich Hungary were discovered during
his reign, and his faithful people saw in that circumstance a
reward granted by God on account of his many virtues. The
miners came one day to relate to the king that as they dug
into the side of a mountain they heard a -voice desiring them
to proceed courageously, for that it contained a vast amount
of gold, destined by the Almighty as a recompense for An-
drew's virtues. The king rejoiced at this mark of the Divine
favour, and profited of it to build churches, found convents,
and to increase his alms to the poor.

Andrew's queen was Gertrude of Merania, or Andechs
one of the most illustrious houses of the empire in the thir-
teenth century. She was a descendant in a direct line from
Charlemagne, and possessed the most beautiful provinces in
the south of Germany. Gertrude's father, Berchtold III.,
was Duke of Merania and Carinthia, margrave of Istria, arid
sovereign of the Tyrol. Her brother, Berchtold IT., in 1198
refused the imperial crown, which was tendered unanimously

OF HUNGART. Ill

t>j (foe electing princes. One of her sisters, afterwards
canonized, was Hedwige, duchess of Silesia and Poland ;
another, Agnes, so celebrated for her beauty and misfortunes,
was wife to Philip Augustus, king of France. Gertrude
equalled her husband in piety ; historians speak of her
courage, and her masculine soul. The most tender love
united this noble couple. In the year 120?, on the day ami
at the hour announced by Klingsohr at Eisenach, Queen
Gertrude being then at Presburg, gave birth to a daughter,
who at the font received the name of Elizabeth. The cere-
monies of her baptism were conducted with great magnifi-
cence ; the royal babe was carried to the church under a
canopy of the richest stuffs that could be procured at Buda,
which was then one of the principal marts of Oriental luxury.
" From the cradle, this child gave proofs of the sublime
destiny for which God reserved her. The names consecrated
by religion were the first sounds that attracted her attention,
and the first words uttered by her infant lips. She paid a
wonderful attention to the rudiments of faith ; already an
interior light aided her to comprehend these holy truths.

At the age of three years, according to the historian, she
expressed her compassion for the yoor, and sought to alleviate
their misery by gifts. The virtues of her future life were
thus prefigured in her infancy ; her first act was an alms-
deed, her first word a prayer. Immediately after her birth,
the wars in which Hungary was engaged, ceased the interior
dissensions of the kingdom were calmed down. This tran-
quillity soon penetrated from' public into private life. Viola-
tions of the law of God, curses, and blasphemies, became less
frequent, and Andrew saw fulfilled all the desires that a
Christian king could form Simple and pious souls remarked
the coincidence of this sudden peace and prosperity with the
birth of the child, whose piety was so precocious ; and when
afterward? they saw so brilliantly realized the promised

112 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

virtues of her early years, the Hungarians loved to say, thai
never did royal infant bring so many blessings to her country.

Meanwhile, Dnke Hermann left no means untried to find
out if the predictions of Klingsohr had come to pass, and
whether a princess was born in Hungary on the day he foro
told. And when he learned, not only her birth, but still
more the marks of devotion she already evinced, and the
happiness that she seemed to have brqught from heaven to
her country, he conceived the most ardent desire to see the
prediction entirely accomplished, and his young son espoused
to Elizabeth.

The travellers that arrived, from time to time, from Hun-
gary, which was then scarcely more isolated than it is at
present from the rest of Europe, often brought him some,
account of the daughter of king Andrew. One day parti-
cularly, a monk who came from Hungary related to the Dnke
that, having been blind from the age of four years, he was
suddenly cured by the touch of the young princess. " All
Hungary," said he, " rejoices in this child, for she has brought
peace with her."

This was sufficient to decide Hermann to send an embassy
composed of lords and noble ladies, to the king of Hungary,
to demand of him, in the name of the young Louis, the hand
of Elizabeth, and, if possible, to bring her with them to
Thuringia. He selected for this mission Count Keinhard de
Mulhberg, Gauthier de Varila, his cup-bearer, and the Lady
Bertha, widow of Egilolf de Beindeliban, who was, accord-
ing to the Chroniclers, famed for her wisdom and modesty,
besides being beautiful, pious, and honourable in all things.
She had, as companions, two noble and beauteous maidens,
and two esquires. The ambassadors had at least thirty
horses in their train. Along their route, they were received
by the princes and prelates through whose estates they passed,
tf ith the distinction due to their rank and that of their Lord

.OF HUNGARY. lid

Happily arrived at Presburg, they were entertained with
royal hospitality, and a great number of Masses were offered
ap on the morning after their entrance to that city.

When they opened to king Andrew the object of theil
mission, he assembled his council to deliberate on the demand
of the Duke of Thuringia.

Klingsohr upheld it warmly, and in a discourse which
serves as a picture of Thuringia at that period, he showed
forth the riches and power of Hermann ; he enumerated the
twelve Counts, who were his vassals, not to speak of knights
and barons; he praised his fertile and well-cultivated coun-
try; he also told of its fine forests and well-stored fish-
ponds, and how comfortable the people were, " drinking
strong beer, and eating good white bread." He then eulo-
gised the personal character of the Duke, and added, that
the young Louis appeared to him to possess all the good
qualities that could be expected at his age. Queen Gertrude
also approved of the request of Hermann, and Andrew,
yielding to her influence, agreed to part with his beloved
child. But before he would permit her to set out, he
wished to celebrate a feast in her honour, and having as-
sembled all the nobles and their ladies, he ordered brilliant re-
joicings. The games, dances, music, and the song's of the min-
strels, lasted three days, after which the Thuringian ambassadors
took leave of the king. The attendants brought with them the
little Elizabeth, then aged four years, and, covering her with a
ailken robe embroidered with gold, laid her in a cradle of mas-
sive silver, and thus gave her into the care of the Thuringians.

The king said to the Lord de Varila " I confide to thy
knightly honour my sweetest consolation." The Queen, also,
came weeping and recommending her child to his care. The
knight answered them thus " I will willingly take charga
of her, and shall always be her faithful servant." He kept

114 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

his word, as we shall hereafter see. Before leaving Pres-
burg, the ambassadors received from the king and queen
presents of immense value, some for themselves, and some to
be carried to Duke Hermann, as the dower of the princesa
Contemporary narratives enumerate in detail these presents,
Baying, that never were s'een in Thuringia things so precious
und beautiful.

Hence we may conclude, that this marriage served to in-
troduce into Germany a new development of the luxury of
the East, which, at so distant a period, must have been of
importance in the history of Germanic art and industry.
Queen Gertrude added to these gifts a thousand marks of
silver, and promised that, if she lived, she would double the
Bum from her privy purse.

The ambassadors at last set out. They had come with
two carriages, and returned with thirteen, so greatly had
their baggage increased. King Andrew confided to them
thirteen noble Hungarian maidens, as companions to his
daughter, all of whom Duke Hermann dowered and mar-
ried in Thuringia. The journey homeward was performed
without delay ; as soon as Duke Hermann and the Duchess
Sophia received news of their approach, and of the success
of their mission, they knelt and blessed God for having
listened to their prayers. Then they descended from "Wart-
bourg to Eisenach, in order to receive their ambassadors,
whom God had so well guided.

If we are to believe one of the official chroniclers of tha
court, the joy of having received the young princess almost
set their senses astray. The whole party entered the Hostel
of Hellgref, where Klingsohr had made the prediction, and
which was then the best in the town. There the Landgrave
took the little Elizabeth in his arms, and, pressing her to hia
bosom, thanked God for having granted her to him.

He then returned to Wartbourg to prepare for her recep-

OF HUNGARY. 115

tion, but tlie Duchess remained all night with the child. The
next morning, she conducted her to the castle, where the
Duke had assembled all his court, and to which a number of
the citizens of Eisenach and their wives were invited, to see
tiie child that God and the king of Hungary had sent them.

The princess, aged four years, was solemnly affianced to
the Duke Louis, who was then eleven ; and, according to
custom, they were laid side by side in one bed. Then there
were, as at Presburg, sumptuous banquets and festivals, at
which poetry, the principal magnificence of the court of
Thuringia, shone with its accustomed brilliancy.

Dating from this time, Elizabeth never left him who was
to be her husband, and whom she then called her brother.

A touching and salutary custom existed in Catholic ages and
families to bring up together those whose after lives were
destined to be united ; a blessed inspiration, which mingled in
the mind of man the pure name of sister with the sacred name
of wife, so that none of the young heart's freshness was lost,
but the fond and varying emotions of brotherhood served to
prepare for the grave and arduous duties of marriage. Thus,
all that was ardent and impetuous in the soul was calmed
down and sanctified ; thus the purest and closest relations of
life were from childhood joined in an earnest and only love,
providing for after years the rejnembranee of the sweetest
and most holy affections.

116 LI71 OF ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER II.

HOW THE DEAR SAINT ELIZABETH HONOURED GOD IN HER CHEJUIOOK

Elegit eum Dens et praelegit Office of Holy Women.

" Cinq ans avait d'aage droit

Sainte Ysabiaux la Dieu aim6e,

La fllle le Eoi d'Hongrie,
Quant a blen faire commensa."

Butebeuf MS., Bibl. Roy. 7683.

IN the bosom of the family from which Providence thus
separated the little Elizabeth, two causes contributed to de
velop in her soul those virtues that were recognised in her
even from the cradle. She had, in the first place, an illus-
trious example of the union of all Christian virtues with
sovereign majesty, in the person of her maternal aunt, Hed-
wio-e, Duchess of Poland, who in after vears merited the

O ' * *

veneration of the faithful, and whose austere and fervent
piety contributed even then to the glory of her family, and
was a subject of edification which Elizabeth well knew how to
understand and to imitate. But, besides the influence of this
example, God permitted that unforeseen misfortune should
throw a shade of sadness over her youth, and teach her thus
early the frailty of earthly grandeur. Two years after she
had been brought from Hungary to Thuringia, her mother,
Queen Gertrude, suffered a most cruel death, having been
assassinated by the subjects of her husband. The cause of
her death is uncertain ; according to some, she was immo-
lated by the sovereign of Croatia and Dalmatia, who wished
thus to revenge the honour of his wife, outraged by Berch-
told, brother to the queen ; according to others, she was the

OP HUNGARY. 11-7

fictiin of a plot formed against the life of her husband, and
that, in order to give Mm time to escape, she delivered her-
self up to the blows of the conspirators. This fatal news soon
reached Elizabeth, and all historians agree in regarding it aa
one of the principal sources of the grave 1 thought and profound
piety which were manifested in all her childish actions.

Oa Elizabeth's arrival in Thuringia, the Landgrave se-
lected to be her companions, seven maidens of the most noble
houses of his dominions, amongst whom was his own daughter
Agnes ; all were about the age of the young princess, and
were brought up with her. One of these, Guta, who was five
years old, being a year older than Elizabeth, remained in htr
service until a short time before her death.

And when God called her to himself, and when the report
of her sanctity, noised abroad, attracted the attention of the
ecclesiastical authorities, this same Guta, being publicly inter-
rogated, related the recollections of her childhood. It is to
her depositions, carefully preserved and transmitted to the
Holy See, that we owe the knowledge of the details we are
about to give of the occupations of the first years of our
Elizabeth.

From this tender age all her thoughts and feelings seemed
to be centred in the desire of serving God, and of meriting
heaven. Whenever an opportunity offered, she went to the
Castle Chapel, and there, lying at the foot of the Altar, she
would open before her a large psalter, though as yet she
knew not how to read ; then folding her little hands, and
raising her eyes to heaven, she gave herself up with wonder-
ful recollection to meditation and prayer.

At play with her companions, for instance, in hopping
along, she led so that all were obliged to follow her to the
Chapel, and \vAen she found it shut, she would fervently
kiss thr lock, door, and walls, out of love for the Lord who
resided within it, concealed under the sacramental veila

118 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

In all her sports, in which there were games of chance,
she was governed by the thought of God. She hoped to
gain for Him ; for all her winnings were distributed amongst
poor girls, on whom she imposed the duty of reciting a cer-
tain number of "Paters" and " Aves."

She continually sought occasions of union with God ; and
when any obstacle prevented her saying as many prayers or
making as many genuflexions as she would wish, she would
say to her little companions, " Let us lie upon the ground to
measure which of us is the tallest." Then stretching her-
self successively by the side of each little girl, she would
profit of the moment to humble herself before God, and to
repeat an "A ve." When afterwards a wife and mother, she
used to take a pleasure in relating these innocent wiles of her
childhood. She often conducted her friends to the cemetery,
and would say to them, "Remember that one day we shall be
nothing but dust." Then arriving at the charnel house, she
would continue thus, "Behold the bones of the dead ; these
people were once living as we now are, and are dead as we
shall be. For this reason we must love God ; kneel and say
with me, Lord, by your cruel death, and by your dear
Mother Mary, deliver these poor souls from their sufferings !
Lord, by your five sacred wounds, gBant that -we may be
saved." " These," says an old writer, " were her dances and
her sports." The children repeated these prayers after her ;
and, soon dazzled by the ascendancy which she acquired over
them, they would relate that the infant Jesus often came to
Ler, and saluting her tenderly, would play with her ; but she
strictly forbade them to say such things.

After her recreation she tried to learn as many prayers aa
possible. All who would speak to her of God and His holy
law became dear to her. She assigned to herself a certain
number of prayers to repeat daily, and when hindered from
fulfilling this voluntary obligation, and obliged by her attend-

Plllppgppgpfll^^

OF HUNGARY. . 119

ants to go to bed, she never failed to acquit herse!f of hei
devotions whilst they thought that she slept. Thus, lik
David, she " remembered the Lord upon her couch." She
already appreciated the value of that pure modesty, which is
to be observed by Christian virgins, and always arranged hei
veil so as that the least possible portion of her infantine fea-
tures could only be seen.

The bouudless charity, which was at a later period iden-
tified with her life, already inflamed her predestined soul.
She distributed all the money that she received, or could, on
any pretence, obtain from her adopted parents, amongst the
poor. She would go into the offices and kitchens of the castle
to try and gather remains of victuals, and these she used care-
fully to carry to starving creatures.

Tills soon awakened against her the displeasure of tha
officers of the ducal house. According as she grew up, she
increased in virtue and in piety ; she lived more to herself,
recollected in the presence of God, who was graciously
pleased henceforth to adorn her with His most rare and
precious graces.

One of the customs existing at this period, was that every
princess and maiden of the highest rank should choose,. by
lot, one from amongst the holy Apostles to be her especial
patron. Elizabeth, who had previously chosen the Blessed
Virgin for her patroness and especial advocate, had also a
veneration, an old manuscript says, a particular friendship, for
St John the Evangelist which she entertained on account
of the virginal purity of which this holy. Apostle was the
type. She began to pray earnestly to our Lord, that He
would assign to her St. John as her patron ; after which she
humbly went with her companions to the election. For this
purpose twelve tapers, each being inscribed with the name of
an Apostle, were laid upon the Altar, and each postulant ad
ranced and took the first that chance presented to her. Th

120 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

taper which bore the name of St. John was taken up by Eli-
zabeth, but not content with this coincidence with her wishes
she twice renewed the trial, and had each time the same
success.

Believing herself recommended to the beloved Apostle by
a special manifestation of Providence, she felt her devotion
towards him increase, and during all her life she faithfully
venerated him ; she never refused anything that was asked of
her in St. John's name, whether it was to pardon an injury or
to confer a benefit. Placed under this sacred patronage the
pious child found therein a new motive to render herself wor-
thy of Heaven. She therefore redoubled her efforts to attain
all Christian virtues, and augmented the number of her volun-
tary privations.

She never neglected to sanctify the name of the Lord by a
great reserve in her words. On Sundays and festivals she
used to lay aside some portion of her jewels, preferring to
honour God rather by humility of the heart and exterior,
than by splendour of dress.

Guta tells us, that on these occasions she would not put
on gloves or laced ruffles, until after Mass.

Every day she sought opportunities of conquering her
gelf-will in little things, in order to prepare for making
greater sacrifices. In her games, when she won, ' and thai
success made her quite joyous, she would suddenly stop,
Baying, " Now that I have been so fortunate, I will give up
for the love of God." She laved dancing, according to the
Dniversal custom of the country wherein she was born, and
of that in which she was reared ; but when she had danced
3>ne figure, she would say, "It is enough to give one turn
for the world. I will deprive myself of the others, in honour
of Jesus Christ."

Meanwhile the young Louis, her betrothed, was continu*
ally with her, and she felt great pleasure in being near him

:;i^
.^-'--;y;-

BUNOART. 121

She called him "My dear Brother ;" and he was wont to
address her thus : " My dear friend my sweet Sister. "

Thus passed the- early days of this young girl ; the Lord
who reserved her for so pure and so brilliant a destiny, had
counted the number of her years, and willing soon to summon
her to take her place in heaven, He opened to her thus early
the treasury of his grace. Her life was destined to be too
short for any of those great interior revolutions which have
distinguished the lives and conversions of some of tbe most
illustrious saints. No storm of the heart was to darken the
celestial ray that lighted her from the cradle .to the tomb 1

All was to correspond in her blessed career. She was not
the only servant of God, who in early life rendered testimony
to His mercy and power; and certainly there is not for
Ohristian eyes a sweeter sight, than the dawning of those
great lights that are destined to illumine heaven and earth.

122 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH

CHAPTER III.

HOW THE DEAIi SAINT ELIZABETH HAD TO SUFFER FOR GOB.

Enntes ibant et flebant mittentes semlna sna."

"Venlentes autem vertient cum exultatione portantes manipulos suo*."

Ps. cxxv. 7, 8.

ELIZABETH had scarcely attained her ninth year when the
father of her betrothed, the Landgrave Hermann, died, in
1216. One night he dreamed that skeletons of criminals
exposed at the place of execution outside the gates of Eisenach,
were suddenly transformed into white-robed virgins ; that these
virgins came towards his bed, headed by our Lady and St.
Catherine, towards whom he felt a particular devotion, and
that they addressed him thus : " Thou must upon this spot
build us a house, thou art to place therein consecrated virgins,
and then, after a little while, we shall take thee to us." The
Duke faithfully executed this command. He founded in the
place indicated to him a convent of nuns under the invocation
of St. Catherine, and installed there as first abbess a young
widow, Imagina, Duchess of Brabant, and designed this
sanctuary for his own burial place, and that of his descendants.
After this he died, and was interred as he had ordered.

The young Louis, then scarcely sixteen years old, was his
heir, being his eldest son ; the two younger brothers, Henry
Baspon and Conrad, each received an appanage, with the
title of Count, and shared in the government of part of the
dominions of the Landgrave, according to the custom of the
house of Thuringia.

The death of Hermann was a misfortune to Elizabeth.
That illustrious and pious prince had continued to love her

zsyr**

OF H'UKOABT. 123

on account- of her precocious piety. He had always treated
aer as his own daughter, and during his life no one dared to -
nterfere in her religious practices.

But after his death it was no longer so. Though Louis,
whom she looked upon as her betrothed and her lord, had
oecome sovereign of the country, his extreme youth made
trim in some measure dependent on his mother, the Duchess
Sophia, daughter of the celebrated Otto de Wittlesbach, Duke
of Bavaria. Tjiis princess saw with displeasure Elizabeth's
great devotion, and showed her discontent at it. The young
Agnes, sister of Louis, who was brought up with her future
sister-in-law, and whose dazzling beauty had rendered her
more liable to be seduced by the vanities of the world,
used to reproach her incessantly on her humble and retiring
habits. She was wont to tell her plainly that she was only
fit to be a waiting-maid or a servant. The other young
girls of the court, companions to the two princesses, seeing
that every day Elizabeth took less share in their games,
dances, and gay and frivolous life, used to repeat what they
heard Agnes say, and would openly mock her. Even tli3
most influential officers of the ducal court, forgetful of the
respect due to her royal birth, her sex, and extreme youth,
blushed not to pursue her jvith derision and public insults.
All agreed in saying that in nothing did she resemble a
princess.

Indeed Elizabeth showed a kind of distaste for the society
of the young countesses and noble ladies who had been
appointed as her companfons. She preferred that of the
humble daughters of some of the citizens of Eisenach, and
even that of the girls in her service. Above all, she loved t&
surround herself with the children of the women among whom
she distributed her alms.

The insults of which she was the object, 'jerved to render
this society more sweet and dear to her. \'& never allowed

124

LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

pride, or wounded self-love, or even impatience, 'o dwell in
her heart.

This first experience of the injustice of men, and of the
miseries of the world, became, as it were, a new link uniting
her to God. She gathered therefrom new strength to love
und serve Him.

"As the lily-among thorns," says one of her historiar.s,
" the innocent Elizabeth budded and bloomed in the midst of
bitterness, and spread all around ner the sweet and fragrant
perfume of patience and humility."

She gave at this time an example of that humility, which
all the narrators of her life have carefully preserved. It was
the feast of the Assumption, a day on which there were great
indulgences in the churches consecrated to the Blessed Yir
gin, and on which it was customary with the people to make
an offering of the fruits and crops of the year. The Duchess
Sophia said to Agnes and Elizabeth, "Let us go down to
Eisenach to the church of our dear Lady, to hear the High
Mass of the Teutonic knights, who honour her specially ;
perhaps we may also hear a sermon in her praise. Put on
your richest robes and golden crowns." The young prin-
cesses, being adorned as she had ordered, descended with
her to the eity, and entering th church, knelt on a faldstool
before the great crucifix. At the sight of the image of the
dying Saviour, Elizabeth took off her crown, and laying it on
a bench, prostrated herself, without other ornament on her
head than her hair. The duchess seeing her thus, said rudely
to her, " What ails you, Lady Elizabeth, what new whim is
this, do you wish that every one should laugh at you ? Young
ladies should hold themselves erect, and not throw themselves
upon the ground like fools or old women. Can you not do
as we do, instead of behaving like an ill-reared child ? Is
your crown too heavy ? Why do you remain thus stooped
like a peasant ?" Elizabeth rising, humbly answered her

. OF HUNGARY. 125

mother-in-law, " Dear lady, do not blame me ; behold before
my eyes my God and my King, the sweet and merciful Jesus,
crowned with sharp thorns, and can I, who am but a vile
creature, remain before him wearing pearls, gold, and jewels ?
My coronet would be a mockery of- His thorny wreath !"
And she began to weep bitterly, for already the love of
Christ had wounded her tender heart. She then knelt
humbly as before, leaving Sophia and Agnes to speak much
as they pleased, and continued to pray with such fervour
that, having placed a fold of her mantle before her eyes, it
became saturated with her tears. The other two princesses,
in order to avoid a contrast so disadvantageous to them
in the eyes of the people, were obliged to imitate her, and
to draw their veils over their faces, " which it would have
been much more pleasing to them not to do," adds the chro-
nicler.

Such traits served but to increase the hatred with which
profane souls were inflamed against her. According as she
grew up this feeling seemed to be propagated more and more,
and when she had attained a marriageable age, there was a
general explosion of persecutions and insults against her,
throughout the whole court of Thuringia. The relatives of
the Landgrave, his councillors and principal vassals, all de-
clared themselves averse to such an union. They clamoured
loudly and said that she should be sent back to her father,
and restore her troth-plight. That such a Beguine was not
fit for their prince that he should have a spouse, noble, rich,
well-connected, and of truly royal manners that he would
do much better to marry the daughter of a neighbouring
prince who could give him help in his need. Whereas Eliza-
beth's father lived too far away for that, or even to revenge
the insults offered to his daughter if he felt them, and further-
more that he seemed to have forgotten her already, and had
not sent the remainder of the dowry promised by her mother

126 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

The intimate companions of the young duke seized every o^
*portuuity of inducing him to give up Elizabeth, and to send
her back to Hungary, because she was too timid and reserved.
The Duchess-mother used every effort to oblige Elizabeth tc
take the veil in some convent. Agnes assailed her with
contempt and insult she incessantly told her that she had
mistaken her vocation in not becoming a servant. "My
Lady Elizabeth," said she to her one day, " if you imagine
that our lord, my brother, will marry you, you mistake very
much ; or if 'he does- you must become quite a different per-
son from what yon \*^w are." Such was the treatment which
she had to endure every day she deeply felt the unhappiness
of h.er position there was she, still a child and already witti-
est help, without friends, without human consolation, in a
manner exiled from her country, deprived of paternal protec-
tion, in the midst of a strange court, exposed to the insults
and persecutions of those who were God's enemies- and hers.
Yet this made her the better recognise that her life should be
but a pilgrimage in this uncertain world. She had recourse to
G-od, and in silence confided to Him her griefs and opened to
Him her heart. She sought to unite her will to that of her
Heavenly Father, and begged of Him to accomplish His
divine will in her by any means that he thought fit.

Then when at the foot of t!he Cross, peace and resignation
had been restored to her soul, she would cheerfully rejoin her
maidens, and the poor girls whom she had chosen as her
companions ; and this conduct redoubled against her the
mockeries and invectives of the two princesses and the cour-
tiers.

Here one of her biographers interrupts his recital to
address to her this prayer :

" most dear St. Elizabeth, I honour thy virtuous youtfc
and weep over the contempt and persecution thou didst suffer
Why have I not passed my early years as holily as tbo*i didst I

OF HUNOARY. 127

hy did not I, like thee, suffer patiently all contradictions ?
7 oeseech thee, by thy blessed childhood, to atone for my in- *
f<uitme malice, and, by thy heroic patience, to obtain for me
pardon of my wilful anger and of all my faults."

128 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH*

CHAPTER IV.

HOW THE YOUNG LOUIS WAS FAITHFUL TO THE DEAR
ELIZABETH, AND HOW HE MARRIED HER.

Latare cum mnliere adolescent!* turn. ... In amore ejns deledaw
jugiter." Prov. v. 28, 29.

THE just God who had received the prayers and tears of
his child, Elizabeth, did not delay to reward her submission
and patience.

Alone in the midst of his court, the young Duke Louis
was not prejudiced against her, and, deceiving the hopes and
wishes of all, he remained faithful to her who from his child-
hood he had regarded as his bride. His love for her increased
every day, and though, probably out of regard for his mother,
he did not think proper to manif si it publicly, nevertheless,
this pure and holy affection was de- ply planted in his heart.

On this point he was as deaf tc the exhortations and sar-
casms of his mother, as to the counsels of his false friends and
the voice of his passions. He regarded with joy and admira-
tion what attracted to Elizabeth the insults of the world,-
ber extreme modesty, the absence of all pomp in her dress,
her piety, charity, and he thought how happy he would feel
in learning from her these virtues. Hi chaplain, Berchtold,
who has written his life, doubted not but that God, by a
secret inspiration, turned his heart towards the royal exile.
For it was not only as the woman who was to be his wife,
with a human or conjugal love, that he regarded her, but as
a sister in Jesus Christ, with an affecti >n that seemed to hare
been instilled into his heart by the hand of the Most High.

The more the wicked surrounded him with perfidious com*

j -r _

OF HUNGARY. 129

els, the more did he feel his soul penetrated with fidelity
and tenderness for this innocent stranger ; according as he
saw her hated by others on account of her virtues, the greater
necessity did he feel for loving and defending her. Louis
profited of every opportunity, when, without offending his
mother, he could go secretly to console Elizabeth in her mo^
ments of sadness. In this solitude, without other witness
than God, who had already blessed their holy union, they
spoke of their secret and mutual love, and the prince sought
by tender and encouraging words to heal the wounds which
others inflicted on this young soul. Thus she experienced
from these meetings unspeakable consolation. Whenever
Louis went on distant hunting parties, or when he passed
through trading cities, he used to purchase some article that
appeared to him rare and precious, to present to his betrothed.
Never did he return empty-handed ; he used to bring either a
rosary of coral, a little crucifix, a pious picture, or a knife, a
purse, gloves, brooches, golden chains, or pins, or something
that he knew she had not before. At his return she used
joyously to salute him ; he would tenderly embrace her, and
present ner with whatever he had brought, as a love-gift,
and a sign that he had thought of her during his absence.

On one occasion, when the Duke was accompanied to the
chase by several strange lords, who did not leave him until
his return, he omitted to bring the accustomed present to
Elizabeth. The princess, rendered distrustful by persecution
and injustice, felt this forgetfulness deeply ; it was remarked
by her enemies with joy, and they boasted of it as a symptom
of a change in Louis's feelings. Having met Lord Gaultier
ile Varila, the great cup-bearer, who had brought her from
Hungary, to whose care her father had specially confided
her, and who fought for her, to the best of his power, against
the intrigues of the other courtiers, Elizabeth confided he?
grief to this old friend The good knight sympathised in her
G*

130 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

affliction, anil promised to speak of it to his lord. He soon
had an opportunity, for Louis took him on a hunting party
in the neighbourhood of Wartbourg. As they reclined to-
gether ou the grass in a certain wood, whence can be seen
iii the foreground Inselberg, the highest mountain of Tlraringia,
Lord Gaul tier said to him, " Will you be pleased, my Lord,
to answer a question I am going to put to you ?" The good
prince replied, " Speak confidently, and I will tell thee all
fchou wouldst know." "Then," said the knight, " what, are
you going to do with my lady Elizabeth, whom I brought to
you. Will you take her for your wife, or will you break your
troth-plight and send her back to her father ?" Louis arose
immediately, and, stretching forth his hand towards Inselberg,
he said, " Dost thou see that mountain before us ? Well! if
it were of pure gold, from its base to its summit, and that all
bhould be given to me on the condition of sending away my
Elizabeth, I would never do it. Let them think or say of her
what they please ; I say this that I love her, and love
nothing better in this world : I will have my Elizabeth ; she
is dearer to me for her virtue and piety than all the kingdoms
and riches of the earth." "I beg of you, my lord," said
Graultier, "to let me repeat to her these words." "Tell
them to her," said Louis, " and tell her also that I will never
listen to those who counsel me against her ; and give her this
as a new pledge of my faith" so saying, he put his hand into
his -alms-purse, and took from it a little double-cased mirror,
bet in silver, within which was a picture of our crucified
Lord. The knight hastened to Elizabeth, told her what
had happened, and gave .her the mirror. She smiled with
great joy, and thanked Lord Graultier for having thus acted
towards her as a father and friend ; then, opening the mirror
and seeing the picture of our Lord, she fervently kissed it
and pressed it to her heart.

But the time *vas soon to come, when Louis could keep

|SffSps?^^ :'''~^y-^^ :"''.; ;=.

OF HUNGARY. 131

his word as a Christian and a prince, and when Elizabeth
was to be rewarded for her patience, and consoled for hei
trials. In 1218, on the feast of St. Kilian, the Duke having
accomplished his eighteenth year, was, with several young
Lords, armed as a knight, in the Church of St. George at
Eisenach ; the Bishop of Naumburg come there to bless
their swords.

The following year was partly occupied in sustaining a
war against Sigefrid, Archbishop of Mayence, who, on
account of certain disputes with Hermann, had excommuni*
cated his son ; the latter, having boldly entered into Hesse,
and there ravaged the possessions of the prelate and his
friends, obliged him to sue for peace. A conference was
held at Fulda, on the feast of St. Boniface, in the year
1219 ; the Landgrave was formally absolved, and a perfect
reconciliation took place.

On his return from this first campaign, Louis proclaimed
his intention to marry his betrothed, and at the same time
imposed silence on aH who were inclined to give insulting or
perverse counsel against her.

No one dared to combat so decided a will ; the cunning of
men was henceforth powerless in striving any longer to sepa-
rate two souls that God in his eternal councils had united.

" Admire," says their historian, "how this happy young
man and chaste husband, when about to marry, remained
deaf to impious advice, and a stranger to the thirst for gold,
kaowingthat a prudent wife is the good gift promised by the
Lord to the man who lives worthily in this world."

It was in 1220, that the marriage was celebrated with
great pomp at the castle of Wartbourg. The Duke invited
to it all his counts of Hesse and Thurtngia, and a vast num-
ber of knights and squires. All the guests were lodged at
his expense in the town of Eisenach. By common consent,
the knights resigned the honour of conducting the bride

132 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

to the Church to Count Meinhard de Muhlberg, and Lord
Gaultier de Yarila, who had sought her nine years before in
Hungary, and who now, as it were, placed the seal on the
result of their embassy. Elizabeth was also accompanied by
alt the stately dames and gentle maidens of the country. The
chroniclers do not speak of the sentiments with which the
nobles saw the triumph of her who had been for so long a
time an object of their disdain and persecution. But they
boast of the harmonious music of the high mass, the luxury
of the banquets, the joyousness of the dances, and the splen-
dour of the tournament, which was held for three days, and
at which several young knights distinguished themselves.
After these three festival days, the nobles and their wives
successively returned to their castles, and the habitual order
reigned again throughout the vast manor of Wartbourg.

The young spouses belonged, henceforth to each other.
Louis was twenty years old Elizabeth bat thirteen ; both
even more youthful in heart than in age both united more
by spirit and faith than by human affection. We are told
that they loved each other in Grod with an inconceivable
love, and for this reason the holy angels dwelt continually
with them.

\ -i

Or HUNGARY. 133

CHAPTER V.

H<m THE DUKE LOUIS, HUSBAND OF THE DEAR SAINT ELIZABETH,
WAS AGREEABLE TO GOD AND MAN.

" Erat vir ille simplex et rectus, ao timens Deum et recedens a male."

Job i. 1.

THE husband whom God in his mercy had destined for his
pious servant, and whom she regarded with a tenderness at
.once so deep and so. reserved, was assuredly worthy of her,
and of her love. All the historians of Thuringia and ot
our saint concur in describing him in the most attractive
manner. With the exception of his glorious namesake, Saint
Louis of France, the annals of his times do not tell us of any
prince who, though so young, possessed in so high a degree
the virtues of a Christian and of a sovereign.

The nobility and purity of his soul were manifested in his
exterior. His manly beauty was celebrated by his contem-
poraries. All boast of the perfect proportion of his figure, the
freshness of his complexion, his long fair hair, and the serene,
benevolent expression of his countenance. Many imagined
they saw in him a striking resemblance to the portrait which
tradition has preserved of the Son of God made man. The
charm of his smile was irresistible. His deportment was noble
and dignified the tone of his voice extremely sweet. No ono
could see without loving him.

What particularly distinguished him from his earliest
years, was, an unstained purity of soul and body. He was
as modest and bashful as a young girl; it was easy to make
him blush, and he observed in his conversation the greatest
reserve.

134 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

It was not only in his first innocent years that he prized
this treasure of purity ; it was not with him the result of a
youth preserved from danger ; nor did it arise from passing
emotions or resolutions, sincere when formed, but destined to
vanish at the first assault of the senses ; but it was a firm
and deep-rooted will, which he made the rule of his whole
life ; it was an inflexible resistance to the most frequent and
dangerous temptations.

Independent of control at a very early age, master at
sixteen of one of the richest and most powerful principalities
of Germany, surrounded by all the comforts and luxuries of
that eventful period, and, above all, by perfidious counsellors
and flatterers, eager ^ to see his virtue destroyed, he never
yielded ; never even did the shadow of sin tarnish the fidelity
that he had promised to God, to himself, and to her whom he
loved in God. It will be permitted to us to cite here two
anecdotes which contemporary writers have related in detail,
and which seem to us to be of a nature to edify devout
souls.

A shgrt time after the death of . his father, Louis went
with his mother, the duchess Sophia, to the castle of Ebers-
berg. A certain lord wished to put his innocence to the
proof, and having found in the neighbouring village of Aner-
bach 'a young girl of remarkable beauty, he had her brought
to the castle, and even to the chamber of the prince. For
this it was necessary to cross the courtyard, where at the
moment the little Elizabeth was playing with her companions
Seeing this stranger being led to her betrothed, she began tc
weep, and, when asked the cause of her tears, she replied,
" Because they wish to take my brother's precious soul ana
destroy it."

Meanwhile the young duke Louis lay upon his bed, for it
^raa during the heat of the day, when he heard a knock at
his door ; he leaped up, and went, barefooted as he was, to

OF HUNGARY. 135

opci it. The young girl entered with the knight, and after
they were seated, Louis said to her,

" Maiden, why come you here ?"

" I know not, my lord," she replied.

" Then," said the knight, " I brought her to you that you
might do with her what you please."

At these words the pious and prudent prince called one of
*iis chamberlains, and desired him to bring him three marks
of pure silver. When he had received them, he gave them
to the girl, and said, " Lower your veil, fair maiden, and take
this small present as a blessing, that you may return with joy
to your family." Then taking the unworthy knight aside, he
ordered him to restore the girl to her relatives free from all
stain. "If -the least harm happen to her," said he, "I
promise thee that thou shalt be hanged." The narrator says
that he conceals the name of- this false knight to avoid giving
scandal, and adds, " Elizabeth, seeing that the stranger de-
parted so soon, rejoiced at it, and thanked God."

Another time, as he looked from a window at Eisenach on
a square where the people were dancing, an attendant pointed
out to him the wife of one of the citizens who was remark-
able for her beauty and grace ; he added, that if she pleased
the prince, he would take care that she should be made
agreeable to his wishes. The prince, quite irritated, turned
towards^him, saying, "Be silent. If ever again thou darest
to sully my ears by such language, I will drive thee from my
court. How darest thou propose to me to become an accom-
plice in a crime which I may be called upon to judge and
punish every day." So rare and courageous a virtue could
have for its foundation only an active and practical faith in
8,11 the duties imposed by the Church.

Every day the holy mysteries were celebrated in his pres-
ence, and he assisted at them with exemplary devotion. Tie
was a zealous defender of the rights of the Church and tha

136 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

monasteries, but he well knew how to distinguish between
these rights and the personal interests of some prelates, aa
we have seen by his war against the Archbishop of Mayence.
But when the brutal injustice and avidity of some of his lay
vassals troubled the peaceful and benevolent lives of the
.ministers of the Lord, he mounted horse, and went with
lance in hand to fight for the cause of God and the poor
people.

The society in which he took most pleasure was that of
religious men, and the usual termination of his rides in the
time of peace was the Benedictine Abbey of Reinhartsbrunn,
where he had chosen his burial place. His first visit on
arriving there was to the guest-house for the poor and
pilgrims, which was an essential part of every monastery.
He tried to console the sick and infirm by his presence and
gentle words, and always left them, as alms, part of his rich
costume, or some other present. When returned to his castle,
he endeavoured to endure some of the privations of which he
saw the example in the religious life. Through a spirit of
penance he never eat salted or spiced meats- -this contrasted
strongly with the existing customs of the German princes
he never drank beer, and used wine only when he was ill.
This simple and constant fidelity to the most rigorous duties
of a Christian life served to exhibit more brilliantly the
qualities of a true knight, and of a wise and* amiable
prince.

~No sovereign of his time surpassed him in courage, nor
even in physical strength and agility in the exercises of the
body. He displayed this courage on an occasion which the
historians have carefully commemorated. The emperor made
him a present of a lion, and one morning the duke, lightly
clad, and entirely without armour, was walking in the court-
vavd ; he saw the lion, who had escaped from his den, running
towards him ^roaring. Without being at all Tightened, h

OF HUN GARY. 1ST

fltood firmly, clenched his hands, and menaced him with hig
voice, trusting in God. The lion came immediately wagging
his tail, and lay at his feet. A sentinel who was on the
ramparts, attracted by the roaring of the lion, perceived the
danger of his master, and called for help. The lion allowed
himself to be chained without any resistance, and many
persons saw in this power exercised over ferocious animals an
evident pledge of celestial favour, merited by the piety of the
prince, and the sanctity of the young Elizabeth. To this
courage, of which, in the continuation of this history, we will
find many other proofs, he joined in a high degree that noble
courtesy which St. Francis of Aseisium, his sublime contem
porary, named " The Sister of Charity." He bore towards
all women a respect full of modesty. He was to every one,
and particularly to his inferiors, unchangeably benevolent
and affable. He loved to give pleasure to others, and never
repulsed any one by pride or coldness.

A sweet and frank gaiety, an amiable familiarity, marked
all his domestic life. His knights. and esquires praised his
great generosity, the counts and lords who came to his court
were treated with the highest respect, and with all the honours
due to their rank.

To these chivalrous virtues he added all those of a Chris-
tian sovereign. The only vehement passion that all his
historians remark in him was that for justice. He loved it
with intense devotion ; and this love gave him strength suffi
cient to punish the violators of the laws. He banished from
his court, and deprived of their employments, all those who
were haughty to the poor, as well as persons who allowed
themselves to be carried into committing acts of violence, and
those who brought him false and malicious tales. Blasphemers
and men who blushed not to speak impure words, were con.
demned to wear, during a certain time, in public, a mark of
ignominy.

138 LIFE OF ST. ELI2.4BETH,

Inflexible towards those who outraged the law of God, he
was indulgent and patient to those who failed in the obser-
vance of his own enactments. When some of his servants
would forget themselves before him, he would gently say,
"-Dear children, act not" thus, for you afflict my heart."

To all his deliberations he brought a tried prudence his
military expeditions and political actions show a skill and
foresight that do not appear easily reconcileable with his
extreme youth and the simplicity of his character.

He occupied himself with a zeal and assiduity in all the
labours that the government of his dominions imposed upon
him. His regard for truth was so great that his least word
inspired the same security as would the most solemn oath
of another. "One could build upon his word as upon a
rock."

Full of mercy and generosity for the poor, he showed a
lively solicitude for all classes of his people. All who were
injured, no matter by whom, came to him with confidence,
and never in vain; more than once he took the field to avenge
wrongs inflicted on his meanest subjects.

Under such a prince, the moral and material prosperity
of Thuringia could not but increase ; the chroniclers of the
country have celebrated with enthusiasm the happiness that
it enjoyed during his too short reign, and the fruit which was
derived from the example of the virtues of the Sovereign.
The nobility imitated their head, and no longer were vassals
heard complaining of the warlike and oppressive habits of
their lords. The people were obedient and tranquil ; union,
peace, and safety reigned throughout the country all with
one common voice joined in proclaiming the happiness that
Thuringia owed to the wisdom of Duke Louis.

In a word, all his character and life-are contained in the
noble motto which he had chosen from his earliest years
''Piety, Chastity, Justice towards all."

OF HUNGARY. 139

He realised more than any other, the glorious, belief of
Catholic ages, which established a fundamental analogy be-
tween Chivalry and the Sacerdotal character, for true knights
were priests armed with justice and faith, as the priests were
the knights of the Word and of prayer.

140 LIFE Of ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER VI

HOW THE DUKE LOUIS AND THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH LIVED TO-
GETHER BEFORE GOD IN THE HOLT STATE OP MARRIAGE.

Pars bona, mulier bona, in parte timentium Deum dabltur viro pro factis bonla.

Prov. xxvi. 8.

Vulnerasti cor meum soror mea sponsa. Cant. iv. 9.

A PRINCE who was so perfect a model of a true Christian,
could not receive a sweeter recompense in this world than the
love of a saint. We have seen how our Elizabeth retained
as her tmly connecting link with the worldly life, this love
which she associated with such religious feelings. On his
part, Louis failed not to preserve the tender fidelity of hia
eariy years.

Elizabeth was gifted with all that could touch and win a
young heart. Adorned before God with piety an 3 humility,
in the eyes of men she possessed all personal attractions.
The historians who have preserved her portrait represent her
beauty as most regular and perfect; her complexion was
clear brown, her hair black, her figure of unrivalled grace
and elegance her deportment grave, noble and majestic
above all, her eyes beamed with tenderness, charity and mercy.
It is easy to imagine that this exterior beauty reflected thus
dazzlingly the interior perfections of her soul.

It was not on the ephemeral feelings of purely human
admiration that these young people founded the unalterable
union of" their hearts but it was on a common faith, and on
the strict practice of the virtues that this faith teaches, and
the duties it imposes.

Notwithstanding her youth and the almost child-like viva-

OF HUNGARY. 141

city of her love for her husband, Elizabeth never forgot that
he was her head, as Jesus Christ is head of the Church, and
that she should be obedient to him in all things as the Church
is to Jesus Christ. She joined then to her ardent love for"
him a great respect she hastily obeye.d his least sign or word,
and had a scrupulous care that by none of her words or actions
he should be annoyed or receive the slightest grounds for im-
patience. The yoke to which she submitted was in all things
as the Church wishes it should be, a bond of love and peace,
for Louis gave her full liberty to perform the works that in-
terested her most those of piety and mercy.

He even encouraged and sustained her in these holy exer-
cises with a pious care, and only put a stop to them when it-
seemed to him that her zeal would carry her too far ; this he
did by addressing to her words dictated by affectionate pru-
dence and always listened to with docility. Every night the
young wife, profiting of the real or apparent sleep of her
husband, would get out of bed, and kneeling by its side
would pray earnestly, thinking of the holy crib at Bethlehem,
and thanking the Lord that He had deigned to be born at
midnight for her salvation and that of the human race.

Her husband often awoke, and fearing that she was too
delicate GO endure such penances, he would beg of her to give
over. "Cease, dear sister," he would say, "and take thy
rest" then taking her hand he would hold it until she was
agaiit by his side, or until he would fall asleep leaving his
hand in hers then she used to bathe in tears of pious fer-
vour that beloved hand that seemed to ally her to earth.
Louis never employed any constraint to oblige her to discon-
tinue her pious works, they rejoiced him and gladdened his
heart. Ysentrude. one of Elizabeth's most confidential at-
tendants, related to the ecclesiastical judges a circumstance
that proved Louis's indulgence. The Duchess, in older not
to oversleep herself nor to disturb her husband, ordered ono of

142 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

her maids of honour to awake her at a certain hour by catching
her foot it happened on one occasion that Ysentrude caught
the Duke's foot, he awoke suddenly, but guessing the cause of
the disturbance, he lay down again without showing the least
sign of impatience. " He saw," says the historian, "that she
loved God with her whole heart, and that thought comforted
him ; and she confiding in the piety and wisdom of her hus-
band did not conceal from him any of her penitential exercises,
well knowing that he would never interfere between her and
her Saviour."

To the frequent proofs of their mutual tenderness both
added gentle exhortations to advance together in the way of
perfection; this holy emulation fortified and preserved them
in the service of God by it they learned to draw even from
the ardent affection which united them, the charm and feeling
of the Supreme Love.

The grave and pure character of their mutual devotion
was revealed by the touching custom which they preserved
even after marriage, of calling each other brother and sister,
as it were to perpetuate the remembrance of their childhood,
and make their whole lives one unbroken attachment.

The happiness of being together was indispensable to
them ; so powerful were the chaste attractions of each, so
entire, was the union of their souls, that they could ill endure
being separated even for the shortest time. Thus when the
Duke's hunting excursions were not too distant he always
took his dear Elizabeth with him and she was happy to ac-
company him, even though she had to travel over rugged
roads and dangerous paths, and to brave storms ; but neither
hail, nor snow, nor floods, nor excessive heats, could hinder
her from going, so anxious was she to be near him who never
kept her from God. Nevertheless, it sometimes happened
that Louis was obliged by his duties as a Sovereign to under-
take long journeys, even out of his own dominions, where h

OF HUNGARY. 143

could not bring his wife ; then as soon as he set out, she
would lay aside her. royal robes, and covering her head with a
veil, would put on the costume of a widow. Thus she would
remain during his absence, awaiting his return in prayers,
vigils and severe mortifications.

But as soon as the approach of Louis was announced, she
used to hastily adorn herself with all the care and magnifi-
cence her rank required. " It is not," she would say to her
maidens, "through carnal pleasure nor vanity that I deck
myself thus God is my witness, but only through Christian
charity, that I may remove from my brother all occasions of
discontent or sin, if any thing in me should displease him,
that he may love but me in the Lord, and that God who has
consecrated our lives upon earth may unite us in heaven."

Then she would go forth to meet him with a simple, child-
like joy, and while they remained together she would use
every effort to please his eyes and his heart. At table she
could not bear to sit at a distance from her husband, but
would take her place by his side, which was expressly con-
trary to the custom then observed by ladies of high. rank.
In this way she not only gratified herself by being as near -aa
possible to her loved lord, but she felt that her presence served
to check the light and frivolous discourse of the young knights;

Nothing indeed could be more imposing even to worldly
souls than the sight of so much virtue in these young persons.
United by a holy concord, full of purity and humility before
God, full of charity and good-will towards men, loving each
other with a love that drew them both to God, tLey offered
to heaven and earth the most edifying sight, and, in ajucip A
tion, realized the charming picture which the greatev oi Call-
die poets has traced of a celestial marriage :

La lor concordia e i lor lieti sembianta
- Amore e maraviglia e dolce sguardo,

FaceuiQ esser cagion de'pensier santi

Dante, Parad. c. at

144 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTEE VII.

MOW THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH PRACTISED THE VIRTCB Of

MORTIFICATION.

Or la dame alnsi vecu,
Et de sa vie a fait escn,
For I'arme deffendre et couvrir,
Et por saint Paradis ouvrir.

Rutebeuf. MS. f, 84

BEHOLD then our young princess in possession of all the
happiness of early years, of the sweet joys of the morning
of life that no after pleasures can replace, that no grief can
banish from the memory ; those joys whose absence darkens
life, whose remembrance suffices to alleviate the deepest woe
Thus God often grants this consolation (like the dew of morn)
to his creatures, that they may be better able to endure the
" labours of the day and the heats."

But Elizabeth, whose mind was fixed on heaven, though
accepting this happiness- with a joyful submission, understood
its danger, and for this predestined soul it was a trial over
which she was bound to triumph.

She felt that the grace which God had granted her in
aniting her to him she loved so much, obliged her to a more
zealous fidelity, and a more ardent gratitude towards her
celestial Benefactor. Though assuredly her young heart could
not be stained with grievous sin, she constantly remembered
that before the strict justice of God, the most faithful souls
are but unprofitable servants, and that we can never impose
on ourselves sufficient penance to merit salvation.

Thence she began, in the humility of her soul, to amass
that superabundance of grace and merit which is, according

.;. OF H UNO ART.

to the sweet and consoling doctrine of the Church, for the
saints of God a brilliant glory, and for the faithful a rich
treasure and a sure refuge.

She sought at first to conquer her flesh by vigils. We
have seen with what persevering fidelity she mortified herself
in this way, and with what mingled solicitude and indulgence
her pious husband saw her rise from his side to approach God
in prayer.

But frequently, notwithstanding her good will,. Elizabeth
during her devotions would not be able to resist sleep, and
would slumber, kneeling on the carpet by the bed-side, her
hand clasped in that of her husband ; her women finding her
thus in the morning, used to reproach her, and ask, would
it not be as well for her to sleep in her bed as by its side.
" No," she would say, " if I cannot always pray, I can at
least mortify myself by remaining away from my beloved
husband ; I wish that my flesh should be conquered it can
but gain by doing what the soul wishes." When her husband
was absent, she prayed all night to Jesus, the spouse of her
soul. But this was not the only self-inflicted penance endured
by this young and religious princess.

Under her finest clothes she always wore a cilice (hair-
shirt) next her skin. Every Friday, in commemoration of
the painful passion of our Lord, and every day during Lent,
she caused the discipline to be administered to her severely
and in secret, " In order," says a historian, " to render to
our Saviour, who was cruelty scourged, some recompense."
She would then return to her court with a joyous and serene
countenance.

Later in life, she would arise from her couch, and going
to the next chamber, wherein were her attendants, she would
order them to give her some hard blows ; then, strengthened
against her own weakness, she would return to her husband
with redoubled gaiety and amiability. " Thus," says a con-
7

I.4Q LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

temporary poem, " she sought to approach anto God, and
to break the bonds of the prison of flesh, like a valiant
warrior for the love of the Lord."

Elizabeth resolved that these secret austerities should by
no means influence her daily duties, or render her disposition
in the least degree sad or gloomy.

She cheerfully took part in the festivals and merry-makings
of worldlings, at which her rank in society assigned to her a
prominent place ; and as a great saint, worthy in every regard
to understand and judge her, has said of her, " She played
and. danced sometimes, and was present at assemblies of
recreation, without prejudice to her devotion, which was so
deeply rooted in her soul, that, like the rocks about . the lake
Riotta, which grew greater by the beating of the waves, her
devotion increased amongst the pomps and vanities to which
her condition exposed her."

She detested all kinds of exaggeration iq. works of piety
all affectation of grief and said of those who, in praying,
wore a sad or severe aspect, " They seem as if they wished
to frighten our good God ; can they not say to Him all they
please with cheerful hearts t"

Elizabeth never neglected any means of offering to God
her tribute of humility and obedience. She had for confessor
Master Conrad of Marburg, of whom we shall hereafter speak*
and to whom her husband permitted her to make a vow of
obedience in all that was not contrary to his marital au-
thority.

Now, Conrad, who had opposed the imposition of certain,
taxes, which he looked upon as unjust and contrary to the
will of God, and which were levied to defray the expenses ol
the royal table, positively prohibited his penitent from nou-
rishing herself with any other food than that which she-knew
was furnished from her husband's private resources, and not
wrung from tte earnings of the poor vassals. The compaa-

OP HUtfOART 14

lionate heart of the young duchess complied with this, and
having adopted the resolution, she put it in practice with the
most scrupulous fidelity, though she was sometimes embar-
rassed by it, as she still continued the custom of sitting by
her husband at meals.

This pious prince placed no obstacle in her way, and when
her ihree maids of honour asked his permission to follow the
example of their mistress, he immediately granted it, adding,
" I would very willingly do the same, if it Were not that I
fear slander and scandal ; but, with Grod's help, I will soon
change this kind of life." Full of a tender respect for^ the
conscience of his wife, he warned her with gentle and affec-
tionate care when there were any dishes forbidden by her
rule ; and, when he knew that all were the produce Of his
estates, he pressed her to eat ; but Elizabeth would scarcely
taste anything, always fearing lest it should be the fruit of
the bitter sweat of the poor. She was most careful to hide
from the world what she did for the love of God, and when
seated at the Duke's table, surrounded by the nobles and
officers of the court, she had recourse to a thousand little
stratagems that they might not remark her privations. She
Would feign to watch the arrangement of the service with
great care would frequently give orders to the attendants-
would speak to each guest, and invite him to drink. Some-
times even she used to cut into little pieces the bread and
meat placed before her, and scatter them on her plate, to give
them the appearance of being left.

Elizabeth often left the most abundantly served table hungry
and thirsty. Her noble maidens, companions in her penance,
relate, that sometimes for her entire subsistence she had but
dry bread, or a few little cakes steeped in honey.

One day at a great banquet she could reserve but fiva
rery small birds, and almost all these she gave to her maidens,
for whose privations she had far greater compassion than for

148 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

her own. Oil another occasion, as slie went to join her hus-
band at Hie Diet of the empire, she found nothing that he*
conscience would permit her to eat but a piece of coaise black
bread, so hard that she had to steep it in hot water ; but, as
it was a fast day, she was contented with it, and travelled
the same day, on that scanty meal, sixteen leagues on horse-
back.

A touching and graceful tradition tells us how it pleased
God to render these privations less rude and repulsive to her.
One day, during the absence of her husband, she dined alone,
and her poor repast consisted of dry bread and water. The
Duke having returned suddenly, came in, and, as a mark of
affection, wished to drink from her glass ; he found in it, to
his great surprise, a liquor which seemed to him to be the
best wine he had ever tasted. He asked the cup-bearer
whence it was brought, and the latter replied that he had
only served the duchess with water. Louis said no more,
but according to the expression, as pious as it is just, of the
narrator, he had soul enough to recognise in this circumstance
a mark of divine favour, and a reward of the sacrifices Which
his wife imposed on herself.

Often, accompanied by her maidens, Elizabeth used to go
through the offices of the castle, and inquire with the greatest
care whence were brought the various provisions. When she
found some permitted food, she would say to her ladies, "You
will eat but of that," or when an allowed drink, such as wine
from her husband's vineyards, she would add, " Drink but of
this." But when she found nothing to trouble her conscience,
she would clap her hands with child-like joy, and cry out,
" To-day everything goes well ; we can both eat and drink."

She was then about fifteen years old, and had preserved
the simplicity of her mind and heart, whilst rendering herself
worthy of heaven, by the practice of virtues far above her

OF HUNGART 149

A life so rigorous, and so contrary to the custom of hef
rank and her time, drew upon the duchess the disapprobation
and public reproach of all the court ; even the Duke was not
spared on account of his tolerance for what were accounted
the extravagancies of his wife. Both, however, resigned
themselves patiently to these profane judgments, loving better
to please God than men.

The young princess soon found a new field for the exercise
of her zeal and love of mortification. One great festival day,
according to the custom of Wartbourg, she went down to the
church at Eisenach, clothed in sumptuous robes, covered
with precious stones, her head encircled with the ducal crown,
and accompanied by the Duchess-mother, and a number of
attendants. Elizabeth was accustomed every time she entered
a church to turn her eyes immediately towards the crucifix.
This she now did, and seeing the image of her Saviour naked,
crowned with thorns, 'Jie hands and feet pierced with nails,
she felt penetrated with compunction, and entering into her-
self she said, " Behold thy Gk>d hanging naked on the cross,
and thou, useless creature, art covered with gorgeous vesture ;
his head is crowned with thorns, and thou wearest a crown
of gold." At the same moment, so full of pious compassion
was her tender heart, that she fell fainting on the ground.
Her alarmed attendants raised her, carried her to the church
porch for air, and sprinkled her with holy water. She was
soon restored to strength, but from that moment she formed a
resolution to renounce all pomp of dress, except on those
occasions when the duties of her rank, or the will of her
husband, obliged her to it. In the depositions of her maids .
we find a detail of several articles which then formed part of
the toilette of a princess. For instance, she renounced all
dyed stuffs, bright coloured veils for the head, narrow and
plaited sleeves which appear to have been great luxuries at
that period, silken fillets for the hair, and lastly, long dressei

-it^f^

15P LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

with trains. When necessity obliged her to be clothed in
robes of state, she retained under the royal purple her simple
woollen garments and'the cilice which she never left off. In
public assemblies she always appeared with the dignity and
modesty befitting a Christian princess. She recommended
this plainness of attire to the noble ladies who visited her,
and earnestly advised them to renounce in this particular
the vanities of the world. She even sent them patterns of
the dresses that shp thought would suit- them. Her efforts
were not fruitless. Several of these ladies, touched by the
example of this yoang and newly-married woman, gave up all
worldlv superfluities, and some amongst them even made vows
of perpetual r&ostity.

Oh ! ho^ simplicity ! truth of the early ages, pure and
child-like tenderness of the ancient days, will you never be
restored ? Must we believe that you are dead and gone for
ever ? But if it be true that ages are in the life of the
world PS years are in that of man, will you not, after so long
and dark a winter, return, O sweet spring-time of Faith, to
restore youth to this earth, and its innocence to our hearts 1

Iplpl^tfp^plIP^^

Or HUNGARY. 151

CHAPTER VIII.

OF THE 0REA1 OHARITX OF THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH, AND HER.

LOVE FOR 'POVERTY.

" Da pauper um ut des tibi ; da pauperi mlcam ut accipias totum panem ; di
tectum nccipe coelu-m ; da res perituras ut accipias teternas mensuras. S. Petrus
Chrysologus, apud Thesa-ur. Nov. d6 Sanctis.

In te misericordia, in te pietate,
In te magniflcenza, in te s'aduna
Qnantunqne in creatura e di bontate."

.Dante, Parad. c. 88.

WHIEST Elizabeth imposed on her senses so rigorous a
restraint, and treated herself with so much severity, her
heart overflowed with charity and mercy for her unhappy
fellow-creatures. The tender pity with which from childhood
she had been animated, took every day new developments
which in a short time merited for her the sweet and glorious
title under which all Christendom now venerates her that of
the Patroness of the Poor.

Generosity to the poor, particularly that exercised by
princes, was one of the most remarkable features of the age
in which she lived ; but we perceive that in her, charity did
not proceed from rank, still less from the desire of obtaining
praise or purely human gratitude, but from an interior and
heavenly inspiration. From her cradle, she could not bear
the sight of a poor person without feeling her heart pierced
with grief, and now that her husband had granted her full
liberty in all that concerned the honour of God and the good
of her neighbour, she unreservedly abandoned herself to her
natural inclination to solace the suffering members of Christ.
This was her ruling thought each hour and moment ; to the

152 LIFB OF ST. ELIZABETH,

use of the poor she dedicated al. that she retrenched from
the superfluities usually required by her sex and rank. Yet,
notwithstanding the resources which the charity of her husband
placed at her disposal, she gave away so quickly all that she
possessed, that it often happened that she would despoil
herself of her clothes in order to have the means of assisting
the unfortunate.

So touching a self-denial could not fail to affect the hearts
and imaginations of the people ; we find in the ancient chro-
niclers an anecdote relating that, on a certain Thursday, the
Duchess, richly robed and crowned, descended to the city ;
on the way, she met a crowd of poor people, and to them
she distributed all the money she had ; there was still one,
who in a plaintive voice asked an alms. She sighed at no
longer having wherewith to . relieve him, but, that he might
not be grieved, she took off one of her gloves, richly embroi-
dered and ornamented with precious stones, and gave it to
him. A young knight who followed in her train, seeing
this, rode after the poor man and bought back from him the
Duchess's glove, which he then attached to his helmet as a
precious relic, and as a pledge of Divine protection. And
he was right ; for from that moment, in all the combats, at
. all the tournaments, he overthrew his adversaries, and never
was vanquished himself. He afterwards joined in the Cru-
sades, and his exploits" acquired for him great renown. At
his return to his country, and on his death-bed, he declared
that he attributed all his glory and all his success to the
happiness he had of wearing during his life a souvenir of the
dear Saint Elizabeth.

But it was not alone by presents or with money that the
young princess testified her love for the poor of Christ ;
it was still more by personal devotion, by those tender and
patient cares which are, assuredly, in the sight both of God
and of the sufferers, the most holy and most precious alms.

3F HUNGARY. - 158

She applied herself to those duties with simplicity and unfail-
ing gaiety of manner. When the sick sought her aid, after
relieving their wants, she would inquiry where they lived, in
order that she might visit them.

And then, no distance, no roughness of road, could keep
her from them. She knew that nothing strengthens feelings
of cliarity more than to penetrate into all that is positive and
material in human misery. She sought out the huts most
distant from her castle, which were often repulsive, through
filth and bad air, yet she entered these haunts of poverty in
a manner at once full of devotion and familiarity. She car-
ried herself what she thought would be necessary for their
miserable inhabitants. She consoled them, far less by her
generous gifts than by her sweet and affectionate words.
When she found them in debt and unable to pay, she engaged
to discharge their obligations from her privy purse.

Poor women in childbed were particularly the objects of
her compassion. Whenever she could, she used to go sit by
their bedsides to assist and encourage them. She used to
take their new-born children in her arms with a mother' j
love, and cover them with clothes made by herself ;*she often
held them at the baptismal font, in order that this spiritual
maternity might afford her stronger motives for loving and
taking care of. them during their whole lives.

When one of her poor died, she used to come to watch by
the body, to cover it with her own hands, and ofjen with the
sheets from the royal bed ; she would also assist at he funeral
service, and the people often saw with admiration this royal
la<ly following with humility and recollection the poor coffin
of the meanest of her subjects.

Returned to her home, she employed her leisure hours,

not in the luxurious enjoyments of the rich, but, like the

valiant woman of Scripture, in laborious and useful works.

She spun wool with her maids of honour, and afterwards

154 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

made it into garments for the poor, or for the religious men-
dicants who at that period were established in her dominions.
She often took for her repasts vegetables, and these design-
edly badly cooked, and without salt or other seasoning, in
order that she might know by experience how the poor were
fed ; and nch meals she took most joyfully.

We huve seen how she frequently suffered hunger, rather
than use food which she thought the. fruit of the taxes un-
justly required from her poor subjects. But she did not
confine to these purely personal scruples her zeal for justice
and her earnest solicitude for the unfortunate. When, in
the exercjse of the domestic cares of her household, she dis-
covered any traces of violence or wrong committed against
poor country people, she would go and denounce it to her
husband, and would endeavour to recompense the aggrieved
party as far as her means would permit.

As if these touching virtues were the undoubted heritage
of the house of Hungary, we find them two centuries later
in the person of a young and illustrious sovereign daughter,
is was our Elizabeth, of a king of Hungary Hedwige,
elected at the age of thirteen years to the throne of Poland,
who by her marriage with Jagellon effected the union of Po-
land and Lithuania, and who died at the age of twenty-eight
years in the odour of sanctity, renowned as the most beauti-
ful and most courageous princess of her time.

Worthy of being of the race of Elizabeth by the great
kindness of her heart, Hedwige has left in the annals of her
country one of the most exquisite sentences ever uttered by
Christian lips. Some poor peasants came weeping to her to
somplain that the king's servants had taken their cattle.
She went immediately to her husband and obtained their res.
toration, after which she said, "Their cattle indeed are
returned to them, but who can restore to them their tears."

Elizabeth loved to carry secretly to the poor, not alone

^a*tf^

-. - " . ;; : -.^.{:v*'V&.-..v -v-.^'----;"iv'-- " r '- 7 .;- _- '"''- , -

OF HUNGARY. '155

money, but provisions and other matters which she destined for
them. She went thus laden, by the winding atd rugged paths
that led from the castle to the city, and to the cabins of the
neighbouring v-alleys.

One day, when accompanied by one of her favourite maid-
ens, as she descended, by a rude little path (still pointed out)
and carried under her mantle bread, meat, eggs, and other
food to distribute to. the poor, she suddenly encountered her
husband, who was returning from hunting. Astonished to see
her thus toiling on under the weight of her burthen, he said to
her, " Let us see what you carry" and at the same time drew
open the mantle which she held closely clasped to her bosom ;
but beneath it were only red and white roses, the most beauti-
ful he had ever seen : and this astonished him, as it was no
longer the season of flowers. Seeing that Elizabeth was
troubled, he sought to console he* by his caresses, but he
ceased suddenly, on seeing over h' r head a luminous appear-
ance in the form of a crucifix. Ho then desired her to continue
her route without being disturbo'l by him, and he returned to
Wartburg, meditating with re' Collection on what God did for
her, and carrying with him cue of those wonderful roses, which
he preserved all his life. At the spot where this meeting took
place, he erected a pillar, surmounted by a cross, to consecrate
for ever the remembrance of that which he had seen hovering
,over the head of his wife.

Amongst the unfortunate who particularly attracted her
compassion, those who occupied the chief place in her heart
were the lepers; the mysterious and -special character of their
malady rendered them, throughout the middle ages, objects o!
a solicitude and affection mingled with fear.

Elizabeth, like many holy and illustrious sovereigns of her
time, vanquished the latter sentiment,- and despised, all the pre-
cautions which separated outwardly from Christian society

156 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

those beings marked by the hand of God. Wherever they
were to be found, she went to them, as if no contagion were to
be dreaded ; she sat by them, spoke to them tender and con-
soling words, exhorted them to patience and confidence in God,
and never left them until she had distributed abundant alms.
u You ought," she would say, " cheerfully to suffer this martyr-
dom ; it should cause you neither grief nor anger. As for me,
I believe that if you .endure patiently this hell which God
sends you in this world, you shall be saved from the pains of
the other, and that is a great gain." Having one clay met one
of those unfortunates, who suffered besides from a malady in
the head, and whose appearance was repulsive in the highest
degree, she led him to a retired part of the orchard, cut off his
matted hair, laid his head on her knees, and washed ana.
cleansed it; her maids of honour having surprised her at this
strange occupation, she smiled, but said nothing.

One Holy Thursday she assembled a great number of lepers,
washed their hands and feet, and, kneeling humbly before
them, kissed their sores and ulcers.

Another time, the Landgrave having gone to spend some
iays at his castle of Naumburg, which was situated in the
tentre of his southern possessions, and near Saxony, Eliza-
beth remained at Wartburg and employed herself during her
husband's absence in redoubling her zeal and care for the
sick and poor, in washing and clothing them with garments,
the work of her own hands, notwithstanding the discontent
testified by the Duchess-mother, Sophia, who had remained
with her son since the death of her husband. But the
young Duchess did not heed the complaints of her mother-in-
law.

Amongst the sick there was a poor little leper named
Helias, whose condition was so deplorable that no one would
take charge of him. Elizabeth, seeing him thus abandoned

pSf^f?^S^

-*'jr/'-' ! ' '"'-"- "'- \^.---^.^ S-?<-^"^+-'^ ;;'-':: "3. '"V': :" " \ ~ >' v ' ; : "/->- : " -:' '^ " ^ ; '" "

OF HUNOART. 15"

by all, felt herself bound to do more for him than for any
othc r ; she took and bathed him herself, anointed him with a
healing balm, and then laid him in the bed, even that which
Bh/3 shared with her royal husband. Now, it happened that
the Duke returned to the castle whilst Elizabeth was thus
occupied. His mother ran out immediately to meet him, and
when he alighted she said, " Come with me, dear son, and I
will show thee a pretty doing of thy Elizabeth " " What
does this mean?" said the Duke. " Only come," said she,
" and thou wilt see one she loves much better -than thee."
Then taking him by the hand, she led him to his chamber
and to his bed, and said to him, " Now look, dear son, thy
wife puts lepers in thy bed, without my being able to pre-
vent her. She wishes to give thee the leprosy; thou seest
it thyself." On hearing these words, the Duke could not
repress a certain degree of irritation, and he quickly raised
the coverings of his bed ; but at the same moment, accord-
ing to the beautiful expression of the historian, " The Most
High unsealed the eyes of his soul, and in place of the leper
he saw the figure of Jesus Christ crucified extended on his
bed." At this sight he remained motionless, as did hia
mother, and began to shed abundant tears without being
able at first to utter a word. Then turning round, he saw
his wife, who had gently followed in order to calm his wrath
against the leper. "Elizabeth," said he, "my dear good
sister, I pray thee often to give my bed to such guests. I
shall always thank thee for this, and be not hindered by any
one in the exercise of thy virtues." Then he knelt, and
prayed thus to God: "Lord, have mercy or. me, a poor
sinner ; I am not worthy to see all these wonders I ac-
knowledge thy almighty power : aid me, I pray thee, to
become a man according to thy own heart, and according to
thy Divine will." Elizabeth profited of the profound impres-
wor ffhieh this scene made upon tne Duke, to obtain his per

'/58 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

mission to erect an a'lmshouse midway up the rocky height
crowned by the castle of Wartburg, on the site since occu-
pied by a convent of Franciscans. She therein maintained,
from that time, twenty-eight sick or infirm poor persons,
chosen from amongst those who were too feeble to ascend to
the castle. Every day she went to visit them, and carried
with her meat and drink for their use. Living thus with the
poor and for them, it is not astonishing that God should
have inspired her with that holy love of poverty which has
rendered the souls richest in His grace illustrious. Whilst
from amongst the people, Francis of Assisium opened to the
world as a new sanctuary, whereto rushed, all those who
were eager for self-denial and sacrifice, God raised in the
midst of the chivalry of Germany this daughter of a king,
who, at the age of fifteen years, already felt her heart burn
with the love of evangelical poverty, and who confounded
the pride and pomp of her peers by a sovereign contempt of
earthly grandeur. Her place seemed already marked out in
the veneration of the Church and the love of the people, by
the side of the Seraph of Assisium.

In the flower of her youth and beauty, she had weaned
her soul from all thoughts of earthly glory. " She," says an
old writer, "who was in sovereign glory, sought the state of
poverty, that the world might have no part in her, and that
she might be poor as Jesus Christ had been."

She could not avoid associating her beloved husband in
all hev secret and holy reveries, and in the aspirations of hei
child-like heart for a life at once more simple and more con-
formable to evangelical perfection. One night, as they lay in
bed, but sleepless, she said to him 1 " Sire, if it will not tire
you, I will tell you of a thought I have had on the kind
of life we should lead in order to serve God better." " Say
it then, sweet friend," replied her husband; "what is your
thought on this subject ?" " I wish, then," said she, " that

lpii^pf?pj^^

OF HUNGARY. " 15f

are had but one farm, which would afford us enough to
on, and about two hundred sheep ; then you could cultivate
the ground, lead the horses, and endure these labours for
God's sake ; and I would take care of the sheep and shear .
them." The Landgrave smiled at the simplicity of his wife,
and replied, "Well, dear sister, if we had so much land
and so many sheep, I think we would be no longer poor, and
many people would find us still too rich."

At other times, when with her maidens, who were all her
friends, she would speak of the joys of poverty ; and often,
in her familiar discourses with them, the young princess, as
much a child in heart as in age, sought to realise, at least
in imagination, her pious desires. Removing her royal
robes*, she would clothe herself in a poor mantle of a grey
colour, such as was worn by the wretched and mean ; she
would cover her head with a torn veil, and, walking before
her companions, would feign to beg her bread ; and, as if
warned by celestial inspiration of the fate for which God
reserved her, she once spoke to them these prophetic words :
"Thus will I walk when I shall be poor and in misery for
the love of my God."

"-0 my God," says St. Francis de Sales, when relating
this anecdote to his dear Philothea, " how poor was this prin-
cess in her riches, and how rich in her poverty !"

We freely confess, that in the life of this Saint, which we
have studied with to muoh love, nothing appears to us
more touching, more worthy of admiration nay, almost
even of envy, than this child-like simplicity, which may pos-
iibly bring to some lips the smile of disdain. To our eyes,
this free yielding to all impressions, these so frequent smiles
and tears, the girlish joys and sorrows, these innocent sports
df her whose soul rested in the bosom of her heavenly
Father all these, mingled with such painful sacrifices, such
grave thoughts, so fervent a piety, so active, devoted, and

160 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

ardent a charity, offer the sweetest and most powerful charm.
It is, beyond all, in times like our own, when flowers
wither and no fruits ripen when simplicity is dead in all
hearts, in private life as well as in public society, that a
Christian cannot study without emotion this development
manifested in the soul of Elizabeth, whose short life was but
a lengthened and heavenly infancy a perpetual obedience to
the words spoken by our Saviour, when, taking a little child
and setting him in the midst of his disciples, he said to them :
" Amen, I say unto you, if you become not like unto little
children, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."

O HUNGARY. 161

CHAPTER IX.

OF THE GRKAT DEVOTION AND HUMILITY OP THE DEAR 3T. ELIZABETH

Mittit ladlcem deorsnm et faciet fructum sursum. 4 Reg. z!x. 80.

A&sez se fit dou siecle 1'estrange,

A Dieu servir vent son cuer mettre,

Car si comme tesmoigne la lettre

Vertus plant* dedans sons cuer

Tons vices de sa vie osta

De Dieu sest (sait) : qui tel hoste a

Ne pent ameir Dieu par amors.

Escole fu.de bones inors

Essample fu de penitence

Et droit miraouers d'innocence.

Ruiebeuf MS.

IT was impossible that Elizabeth could so devote herself
to the love and service of her neighbour, if the charity of God
did not abound in and govern her heart. To love her breth-
ren, as much and even more than herself, it was necessary
that she should love God above all things. Thus we see her
each day making new progress in this sublime science, each
day humility, the earliest companion of her childhood, in-^
creased in her soul and filled that holy dwelling in a wonder-
ful manner, according to the expression of one of her poetical
biographers. Each day, aided by this divine virtue, she
learned better how to conquer all the earthly feelings that
remained in her heart, so that notwithstanding her extreme
youth, the duties of her state of life, and the distractions inci-
dent to her position in society, she attained a degree of repose
and confidence in God, which the greatest saints might envy.

To acquire and maintain this peace, she had no more effi-
cacious and constant help than the faithful observance of th

; '.":.- ":- .."'" .-..-;_''" .. .'.._-",' --!<: ?:f::r*jc

162 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

commandments of the Church, and the frequent reception of
the sacraments which that Mother, inexhaustible in benefits,
offers to all her children. She often approached the Table of
the Lord and received the blessed Eucharist always with the
greatest reverence and love. Elizabeth understood with al
the intelligence of faith, the ineffable value of these sacred
mysteries. She assisted at the divine Office with a respect
mingled with fear and love, and with unequalled fervour.
Scarcely did she hear the bell toll for Office, when she, as it
were, fled to the Church, and always endeavoured to arrive
there before her attendants ; on her entrance she made sev-
eral genuflexions unperceived, accompanied with earnest pray-
ers, as it were secret communions with her heavenly Fa-
ther.

During Mass she testified by exterior humility the tender
gratitude which she felt towards the iffuocent and Supreme
Victim whose sacrifice was thus daily renewed. Obliged
from regard for her husband's presence, and not to scandalize
the faithful, to clothe herself in the costume suitable to her
rank, she manifested the humility of her heart by the dignified
modesty of her deportment. Before the Altar she laid aside
the ornaments which she could put off and replace without
trouble, such as her ducal crown, her collar, bracelets, rings
and gloves; this she always did at the reading of the Gospel,
and at the Consecration or Communion.

Now it happened one day tha,t during the Canon of the
Mass, while she prayed fervently, with her hands folded and
modestly hidden under her mantle, and her veil raised in
order that she might contemplate the sacred host, a celestial
light beamed around her. The celebrating priest, a man re-
nowned for a holy life, saw at the moment of the Consecra-
tion the face of the Duchess refulgent with so great a splen-
dour that he was dazzled by it, and until the Communion ha
found himself surrounded by a light radiating from her as froa

.OF HUNGARY. -

the sun. Filled with surprise, he returned thanks to God,' for
having thus manifested, by a visible and wonderful light, the
interior brilliancy of that holy soul, and he related afterwards
what he had seen.

Elizabeth most carefully observed ' the precepts of the
Church in regard to its festivals. She sanctified the Lent by
prayers and abundant alms, and by fasting, though from that
she was dispensed on account of her age. But no words
could express the fervour, the lore, the pious veneration with
which she celebrated the holy days, whereon the Church by
her touching and expressive ceremonies reminds the faithful
of the sad but ineffable mysteries of our redemption.

On Holy Thursday, in imitation of the King of kings, who
on that day arose from table and laid aside his garments, this
daughter of the kings of Hungary took off all that could
remind her of worldly pomp, clothed herself in the ordinary
dress of poor mendicants, and went to visit the Churches,
wearing a kind of shoas which seem to have been then worn
but by the poorest class. On this day she also washed the
feet of twelve poor persons, sometimes lepers, and gave to
each twelve pieces of money, a cloth garment, and a loaf of
white bread. She passed all the night from Holy Thursday
to Good Friday in prayer and the contemplation of the Pas-
sion of our divine Lord.

At the dawning of the morning of the Great Sacrifice she
used to say to her attendants, " This should be a day of hu-
miliation to all I wish that none of you should pay me the
least respect."

Clad in the same dress as on the preceding day, and con-
forming in all things to the customs of the poor women of the
country, she used to carry under her mantle some parcels of
coarse linen, a little incense, and some small wax tapers, then
she went barefooted in the midst of the crowd to all the
C? irches, and kneeling before each Altar, she laid thereon a

164 LITE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

packet of linen, some incense and a taper, after which ste
prostrated herself humbly and went on to the next. When
she had thus made the tour of the Church she left it, and at
its porch she distributed large alms to the poor, but as they
did not recognise her, they crushed her pitilessly as they
would any common woman.

Some persons at the Court reproved her for making on
these solemn occasions such trifling offerings to the Churches;
they said .that she who was a sovereign Princess should set
an example of munificence, but the heavenly instinct of her
heart told her that on such a day the practice of humility was
one of the best means of its sanctification. She was obliged
to do violence to the excessive generosity of her nature, in
order to assimilate herself more to the little ones and the
poor, and to present to God the sacrifice of a contrite and
humble heart, which He has declared to be the most accepta-
ble of all offerings.

On the Rogation days, which were at this time celebrated
with worldly rejoicings and great luxury in dress, the young
Duchess always joined the procession clad in coarse garments
and barefooted. Daring the sermons, she took her place
amongst the poorest mendicants, and thus would she follow
in all humility across the fields the relics of the Saints and
the Cross of our Saviour : for, says one of her contemporaries,
" All her glory was ia the Cross and passion of Christ ; the
world was crucified to her and she to the world."

God, who has called himself a jealous God, did not suffer
that the heart of His servant should be engrossed by any
thought or affection purely human, however legitimate it
might have been.

A remarkable trait, related by the chaplain Berchtold,
and repeated by all the historians, shows how far Elizabeth
and her husband carried these holy and tender scruples, which
are, as it were, the perfumes exhaled from the souls of th

OF HUNGARY. 165

elect. In the middle ages it was looked upon as a very
important business to have one's self blooded. When the
operation was attended with success, solemn thanksgiving
was returned to God, and all the friends were invited to
rejoice. Princes and nobles made it a pretext for giving
gfeat banquets. For married persons, and those betrothed,
there was a peculiar custom then existing. The young man
went to her he loved to ask her to pray that all might be
well With him ; the betrothed maiden kissed and blessed the
wound. On one occasion Louis and Elizabeth submitted to
this operation at the same time, and, to celebrate it, the Duke
invited all the neighbouring nobility to share in the festivals,
which were continued for several days. On one of those days,
as they all assisted at a solemn Mass in the church of St.
George at Eisenach, the Duchess, forgetting the sanctity of
the sacrifice, fixed her eyes and her thoughts on her beloved
husband who was near her, and allowed herself to consider
unreservedly and with admiration the beauty and amiability
which rendered him so dear to all.

But, coming to herself at the moment of the consecration,
the divine Spouse of her soul manifested to her how these
human considerations had offended Him ; for when the priest
elevated the sacred Host for tae people's adoration, she
thought she saw in His hands our Saviour crucified, with His
wounds bleeding. Alarmed by this vision, she recognised her
fault, and falling on her face to the earth, bathed in tears
before the altar, she asked pardon of God.

Mass concluded, f .he Landgrave, doubtless accustomed to
see her wrapt in meditation, went out with all his court, and
uhe remained alone and thus prostrate until dinner-hour.

Meanwhile the repast prepared for the numerous guests
was ready, and none of the attendants daring to disturb the
Duchess at prayer, the Duke himself went to call her, and
said with great gentleness, " Dear sister, why comest thou not

166 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

to table, and why dost thou make us await thee for -eo long
a time ?" On hearing his voice, she lifted up her head, and
looked at him without speaking, and he, perceiving her eyea
bloodshot from the abundance and violence of her teairf, was
troubled, and said, " Dear sister, why hast thou wep>. ,so long
and so bitterly ?" He knelt by her side, and a'',or having
heard her story, he began to weep and pray with her. Having
continued thus for some time he arose, and saV: to Elizabeth,
" Let us put our trust in God ; I will aid thv:o to do penance,
and to become better than thou art." But as he saw that
she was too sad to return to the court, he arose and went
to his guests, whilst the Duchess continued to lament her
fault.

This young and pious princess had then received from
heaven the Gift of Tears, of those sweet and refreshing
tears, which reveal to the soul the presence of an inexhaus-
tible treasure of grace and consolation from On High.

The companions of her life relate, that however abundant
her tears might be, they never altered the beauty or serenity
of her countenance. This gift was not peculiarly hers ; it
was a common one during her time ; all the Catholic people
of those happy ages possessed it together with their ardent
and simple faith. Those people knew its value ; those fervent
generations, who honoured with so touching 3. reverence the
divine tears that fell from the eyes of Jesus at- the tomb of
his friend, appreciated its virtue.

There were tears at the root of all the poetry ai?d all the
piety of the men of the middle ages.

This "Blood of the soul," as St. Augustine says. this
" Wafer of the heart," as the old romance writers term it,
flowed in streams from their eyes ; it was in some manner,
for these simple and pious souls, a form of prayer an homaga
at once confiding and expressive a tender and silent offeringj
which united them to ail the sufferings and all the merits of

OF HUNGARY. 167

Jesus Christ, and of the saints, and to the worship of the
Church.

Like the blessed Dominick of Paradise, with their tears
they washed away the stains of their souls- witn them, like
St. Odile, they atoned for the sins of those they had loved in
this world ; collected by angels, who carried them to the feet
of the Father of Mercies, they were looked upon by Him as
precious fruits of penance and holy love. And it was not
only weak women and ignorant people who thus experienced
the sweetness and power of tears ; it is sufficient to open at
random any history of those times, and . we will find almost
on every page how pious kings, princes, knights, entire armies
wept spontaneously and sincerely. All these iron-souled men,
all these invincible warriors, bore in their breasts hearts
tender and simple as those of children. They had not yet
learned to destroy the natural innocence of their feelings, or
to blush for them. They had not then dried up or frozen
within them the source of pure and strong emotions, of that
divine dew which renders life fruitful and beautiful.

Who remembers not the sighs and immortal tears of
Godfrey and the first Crusaders, at the sight of the tomb of
Christ, which they had gained after such wonderful exploits
and such hard struggles. Later still, Richard Coeur de Lion
.wept bitterly at the sight of Jerusalem when he could not
save it ; and the confessor of St. Louis relates that, " When
they said in the Litany these words, 'Lord God, deign to
grant unto us a fountain of tears,' the holy king used to say
devoutly, ' Lord God, I dare not beg from thee a fountain
of tears, but for me some little drops to moisten the dryness
of my heart will suffice.' And he related secretly to his
coufessor that many times the Lord had given him tears at
prayer, which, when he felt them flowing gently down his face
and entering his mouth, seemed to him most savoury and
.tweet, not only to the heart but even to the lips."

168 LIFE Of ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER X.

HOW THE DEAK ST. ELIZABETH WAS KNOWN AND CHERISHED BY TDf
OLOBIOCS ST. FRANCIS, AND HOW SHE HAD FOB SPIRITUAL DffiECTC >
MASTEH CONEAD OF MABBTOG.

De paupertatis hmreo,
Banctus Francisous satiat.
Turbam Christi famelicam:
In via ne deflciat

* Her pandit ad gloriam,

Et vitoe viam ampliat.
Pro paupertatis copia
Kegnat dives in patria,
Eeges sibi substituens,
QUOB bic ditat inopia,

Anthem, from Franciscan Hreei&ry.

IT seems to us, that what we have already related of Eliz-
abeth suffices to show the resemblance which existed between
her soul and that of the Glorious Poor One of Christ who
then illuminated Italy with the rays of his miraculous power.
God willed not that this interior alliance should remain sterile
or unknown, but, on the contrary, that it should be frnitful in
consolation for His faithful servant, and in blessings for all
Germany.

A remarkable analogy existed already between their ex-
terior lives. The year 1201, that in which Elizabeth was
born in the midst of sovereign greatness, at Presburg, saw St.
Francis regenerated in God ; at the time that she, daughter
of a powerful king and grand-daughter of Charlemagne, came
into the world surrounded by all the splendour of royalty, he,
the son of the merchant Bernardone. renounced his patrimony,
.his family, his honour, for the love of God; beaten and impri*
oned by his father, delivered from his bonds by his mother'f

OF HUNGARY. 108

love, covered with mud, and pursued by the insulting shouts
of his fellow-citizens, he took with him no second garment,
but went alone and poor to the conquest of the world.

Elizabeth needed not this second birth ; from her cradlo
she was prepared for heaven, and her innocent heart offered
free and fertile soil for the seeds of strength and life, which the
hand of Francis was about to shed on the Christian world,
and of which God reserved to her the privilege of being one
of the first and most illustrious recipients.

It is not our province to relate here the wonderful history
of the triumphs of St. Francis in Italy, dating from the time
at which he commenced his preaching. We must confine our-
selves to the facts which connect him directly with the destiny
of Elizabeth.

After some years the commotion excited by the mission of
this new Apostle in dormant and tepid souls became so gen-
eral, the change which it operated in all the social and private
relations of life so violent, that it became necessary to adopt
means to regulate and modify the power that God permitted
him to exercise.

In every town he encountered a crowd of husbands who
wished to abandon their wives and children, and to consecrate
themselves with him to poverty and the preaching of the Gos-
pel ; women there were also ready to renounce their duties as
wives and mothers in order to enter the monasteries wherein
Clare, his rival and spiritual sister, presided over the austeri-
ties of the new-founded order, " The poor Clares!'

Reduced thus to the painful necessity, either of extinguish-
ing the germs of sanctity which thus developed themselves in
all hearts, or of encouraging a dangerous revolution against the
ties consecrated by God himself, he adopted a middle course,
which heaven blessed, as well as his other works ; he promised
to this crowd, so eager to obey him, a special rule of life which
would associate with his religious, by a community of prayer^
8

170 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

good works and penance, Christians engaged in domestic life,
without severing any of the ties rendered sacred by God,
At first he gave this rale by word of mouth no several of the
faithful of both sexes, who hastened to put it in practice,
particularly in Florence and the neighbouring cities. Each
day these happy souls felicitated themselves on being able,
even out of the monasteries, to renounce the dangerous joys
and luxuries of the world.

Francis, seeing the fervour and ever increasing numbers of
the members of this association, gave them the name of " The
penitents of the third order," as forming the third branch of
his family, wherein were before reckoned the monks of whom
he was the direct head, and the nuns of St. Clare, and in
1221 he wrote and published the rule which he had composed
for them. According to its principal directions it was neces-
sary that if a married woman wished for admission, the consent
both of husband and wife should be obtained. It was neces-
sary that every wrong should be atoned for, and that a public
reconciliation with all one's enemies should take place. The
members, though not quitting either their families or their so-
cial position, were to wear garments of a grey or dark colour,
and were not to carry weapons except in defence of their
country or the Church. They, were not to assist at feasts,
dances, or profane rejoicings. Besides the fasts and absti-
nences prescribed by the Church, they were not to eat meat
on Mondays or Wednesdays, and to fast from St. Martin's
day until Christmas, as well as on all the Wednesdays and
Fridays of the year. They were to hear Mass every day, to
communicate on the three great feasts of Easter, Pentecost,
and Christmas, to recite each evening some special prayers, to
visit the brothers and sisters of the order in sickness, and to
assist at their obsequies. This rule, as we see, established
but a kind of pious association or confraternity," but by no
(beans a "monastic order. It was later -that the third 1 order.

OF HUNG ART. 17*1

In adopting the custom of making solemn tows, took this
latter form, which it still preserves in the countries wherein
it exists.

The immense and rapid propagation of the order of St.
Francis is one of the most remarkable and best {.uthenticated
facts of this epoch, and we may believe that the Church owed
this progress to the association of the third order.

An infinite number of persons joined each day, Italy,
France and Germany were successively invaded by this new
army. It should be recorded in the history of that century
that the enemies of the Church soon perceived the powerful
obstacles offered to them by an organization which embraced .
the faithful of all ages, ranks, and professions the warrior
and the merchant, the priest and the lawyer, the prince and
the peasant and in which the obligation of the severe and
minute practice of the duties of religion necessarily drew more
closely the bonds of affection and obedience which united them
to the immortal Spouse of Christ, while its members were
meanwhile left in the midst of the social and worldly life,
there to develop the devotion and love newly enkindled in
tneir hearts.

Thus we read that the Emperor Frederick IJ. complained
publicly that he found in this third order a barrier to all hia
projects against the Holy See ; and his Chancellor, Peter des
Vignes, relates in his letters that all Christendom seemed to
have entered it, and that, owing to this institution and its
progress, the power of heaven even in this world became more
formidable and advantageous than that of the earth.

It was in 1221, the same year in which St. Francis pub-
lished the rule of the third order, that his religious were deci-
dedly established in Germany. Certainly they could nowhere
find more sympathy and encouragement than that given them
by the young and pious Duchess of Thi^ringia, for we find that
sb* showed, them signs of a zealous devotion and gave them

172 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

all the help in her power. She began by founding a convent
of Franciscans near hei church, in her capital city, Eisenach,
jn the entrance of these friars into Germany.

She afterwards appointed as her confessor brother Rodin-
ger, one of the first Germans who embraced the Seraphic
rule, a religious distinguished for his zeal, and who preserved
towards her during all her life a sincere attachment.

In these new relations, ah she heard of St. Francis in
flamed her young heart with an ardent admiration for him,
and an irresistible attraction to walk in the footsteps of this
exalted model of the virtues she loved best. She chose him
thenceforth as her patron and spiritual father.

Having heard from her new guests of the existence of the
Third Order in Italy, and in the other countries through
which the family of St. Francis had already extended, she
was struck by the advantages which affiliation to it would
afford to a fervent Christian. She saw therein a special con-
secration given to the mortification and other pious practices
which she had imposed on herself.. She humbly begged permis-
sion of her husband to cause herself to be enrolled, and having
obtained this without difficulty, she hastened to contract this
first link with the saint, who was so soon destined to see her

* *

reigning by his side in heaven.

She was the first in Germany who was associated to the
Third Order. She observed its rule with scrupulous fidelity,
and we may believe that the example of a sovereign placed
so high by her rank and so renowned for her piety, had some
influence in the rapid extension of this institution.

Francis was soon informed of the precious conquest his
.Bissioners had made in the person of Elizabeth. He learned
at the same time her affiliation to the order, her att* 1 ehment
to his person, and the touching virtues by which she edified
and blessed Thuringia. He was filled with gratitude and
admiration, and often spoke of her to the Cardinal Protector

OF HUNO4RT. ITS

of his Order, Hngolino, nephew of Innocent III., and after-
wards Pope, under the name of Gregory IX. This latter,
who was destined to watch over the safety of Elizabeth on
earth and to consecrate her glory in heaven, already felt for
her an affectionate interest, and this feeling must have been
increased by the sympathy he understood this young princess
entertained for the Apostle, of whom he was himself the
principal supporter, as well as the intimate and tender friend.
He also confirmed Francis in his kindly feelings towards her.
The exemplary humility of which this young princess was a
model, her austere and fervent piety, her love of poverty,
often formed the subject of their familiar discourses. One
day, the Cardinal recommended the saint to send to the
Duchess some pledge of his affectionate remembrance, and at
the same time took from his shoulders the poor old mantle
wlitrewith he was clad, and enjoined him to transmit it at
once to his daughter Elizabeth, as a tribute due to the humil-
ity and voluntary poverty she professed, as well as a testimony
of gratitude for the services she had already rendered to the
Order. " I wish," said he, " that since she is full of your
spirit, you should leave her the same inheritance as did Elijah
to his disciple, Eliseus." The saint obeyed his friend, and
sent to her whom he had so good reason to call his daughter
this modest present, accompanied by a letter, in which he
felicitated her on the graces she had received from God, and
the good use she had made of them.

It is easy to conceive the gratitude with which Elizabeth
received this gift, so precious in her eyes ; she showed this
by the importance she attached to its possession. She clad
herself with it whenever she begged from our Lord any
special favour, and afterwards, when she renounced all pri-
vate property, she still found means to preserve this dear
mantle of her poor Father till her death, at which time she
left it as her most precious treasure to a friend. It was af-

174 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

terwards preserved with the greatest care, as a relic donblj
sanctified, by the Teutonic knights at Wesseinfels in the dio
sese of Spires ; and brother Berchtold, a celebrated preacher
of that age, related to the judges on the occasion of Eliza"
beth's canonization that he had often seen and touched it
with TCLeration, as the glorious banner of that poverty which
had. vanquished the world and its vanities in so many hearts.
Under this banner Elizabeth acquired in her secret soul the
strength requisite to accomplish at a later period the brilliant
victories which God reserved for her over the world and her
own heart.

Henceforth, united by a filial and friendly feeling to the
Seraph of Assisium, she made new progress on the narrow
and thorny path that leads to eternal glory on that journey
which she was to accomplish in so short a time. Nevertheless,
when she had scarcely attained her seventeenth year, the
good friar, Father Rodinger, her confessor, who had guided
her steps in the rule of St. Francis, left her.

It was necessary to think of replacing him, and the Duke,
whom Elizabeth consulted in this matter, was grieved, be-
cause she seemed to him not to be sufficiently instructed in
the Holy Scriptures, and in the knowledge of religion ; so he
wi'ote to the Pope and begged from him a learned and en-
lightened guide for his wife. The Sovereign Pontiff replied
to him. that he knew no priest more pious or more learned
than Master Conrad of Marburg, who had studied at Paris,
and who then exercised the functions of Commissary Apostolic
in Germany. In a word, Master Conrad enjoyed the highest
esteem of the Clergy and of the faithful.

He ioined to vast learning, morals of exemplary purity, and
a constant practice of evangelical poverty. He had renounced
not only all the temporal wealth to which the nobility of hia
birth entitled him, but even all ecclesiastical dignity and bene-
fice ; this caused him to be set iown by many, as a member o*

|gppS||ip^lp^^

fe^tf;;^^^''^^-/;- >' : -7 ? **'~ ' .-/v^-^y-/- i=v-..;f. - -;-; -'v- .--,- ^^~~:^ -- ;.-;. .;-- : -:.'..;-.'; :

OF HUNGARY. 175

ope of tl mendicant orders, though it appears more probable
that he remained always a secular priest.

His exterior was simple, modest, and even austere, his cos-
tume strictly clerical, his eloquence exercised a powerful influ-
ence over souls, and an immense crowd of priests and laymen
followed wherever he turned his steps, to gather from his Ijpa
the bread of the divine Word.

He everywhere inspired either love or fear, according as
he addressed fervent Christians or people already infe-ited
with heresy. The great Innocent III. had confided to him
the functions of Commissary of the Holy Office in Germany,
with the special mission of combatting the threatened pro-
gress of the heresies of the Vaudois, of the Waldenses, or
poor men of Lyons, and others such, which were then being
introduced into the countries beyond the Rhine, and which
promised to the Church a repetition of the miseries of the
South of France.

He was also charged to preach the Crusades, and more
than once he roused the Germans from their tepidity, to
take part in those sacred expeditions, with an ardour and
constancy worthy of Innocent himself. The two successors of
this Pontiff, Honorius III. and Gregory IX., continued him
in these functions, and he rendered himself fully worthy of
their confidence, by the persevering zeal and ind,o??^ble
courage which marked his career. During the twenty years
\t lasted, he allowed no opposition, however powerful it
might be, to obstruct him in the discharge of his duties.
Neither princes nor bishops, no more than poor laymen, could
esjape his severe justice, when they seemed to him to deserve
punishment, and we may attribute to this absolute authority
fte great popularity be acquired in the exercise of the fre-
quently painful functions of his office. He fell a victim, as
we shall see hereafter, to his severity, doubtless carried to ex
eess, since we find the violent death inflicted by those he pur

176 LIFE Off ST. ELIZABETH,

ened, did not obtain for him the high honours granted by the
Holy See to St. Peter Parentice and to St. Peter of Verona,
both of whom died at this time, like him, martyrs to the. faith.

Conrad, who was doubtless known to Duke Louis, before
he was specially recommended to him by the Pope, soon is
pressed him with so much confidence and veneration, that b. '
a solemn act, sealed by him and his brothers, he invested this
priest with the care of conferring all the ecclesiastical bene-
fices in which he exercised the rights of patronage or colla-
tion, on the persons most worthy of them. This was the best
reply he could make to the exhortations which Conrad ad-
uressed to him on the scrupulous care he should use in the
exercise -of a right so important to the salvation of souls,
"You commit a greater sin," said this zealous preao.her to
him, " when you Confide a church or an Altar (that is to say
a living attached to the care-of an Altar) to an ignorant or
unworthy priest, than if you killed fifty or sixty men with
your own hands." Louis then begged him to take charge of
the spiritual direction of his wife, and Conrad consented, as
much oat of regard for. the piety of the prince, as for the
recommendation of the Sovereign pontiff.

When the young Duchess, who was not yet, as we have
already said, seventeen years old, heard that a man so re-
nowned for sanctity and learning was to have care of her,
she was filled with humility and gratitude. She prepared
herself for what she looked upon as a heavenly favour by
fasts and new mortifications. She often said, " Poor sinful
woman that I am, I am not worthy that this holy man should
have care of me. My God, I thank you for your graces."
When she was informed of the approach of Conrad, she went
out to meet him, and, throwing herself on her knees, said,
" My spiritual Pather, deign to receive me as your child in
God. I am unworthy of you, but I recommend myself to
your care through the love you bear to my brother."

<$jjK?^^^?y^

OF HUNGAUT 177

Conrad, seeing in this profound humility in a young and
powerful princess a foreshadowing of the future glory of her
soul, could not help crying out, " 0, Lord Jesus, what wondera
you work in the souls that belong to you !" and he several
times evinced the 'joy this meeting afforded him. He became
her confessor from this period, and devoted himself with his
accustomed zeal to the culture of this precious plant, whose
growth he was charged to rear for heaven. Very soon, the
instinct of the spiritual life became so strongly developed in
Elizabeth, and her aspirations towards the highest perfection
became so frequent, that Conrad found her one clay (and this
he wrote himself to the Pope) in tears, and regretting that
her parents had destined her to marry, and that thus she was
not free, in passing through this mortal life, to preserve the
flower of her virginity to offer it to God. One of her histo-
rians remarks, that, notwithstanding these feelings inspired
by her fervour, her tender and ardent love for her husband
was by no means lessened. And Louis, so far from arresting
her progress in the life in which Conrad engaged her, gave it
his best assistance. He unhesitatingly permitted her to
promise entire obedience to all her confessor prescribed, that
would not interfere with the just authority and rights of mar-
riage. She added a vow of perpetual chastity, in case she
should ever become a widow. She made these two vows in
the year 1225, in the presence of Master Conrad, in the church
belonging to the nuns of St. Catherine at Eisenach, whom she
loved particularly. She was at this time eighteen years old,
Elizabeth observed the vow of obedience with the utmost
fidelity, and with that unreserved humility that never left
her ; and she cheerfully offered to God the sacrifices that
cost her most. We have seen with what scrupulous exact*
ness she submitted to the restrictions imposed upon her by
Master Conrad relative to the viands used at the ducal table,
which, as we have before mentioned, he thought that the pool
8*

178 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

people were unjustly taxed to provide. Faithful to the in-
flexible rigour of his character, and looking upon her. as ha
would upon any other Christian soul, he by no means sought
to lighten the yoke she had voluntarily assumed ; and he
thenceforth treated her with a severity which could but
augment her merit in the sight of God. One day he sent
for her to come and hear him preach, but, at the time, she
was engaged with her sister-in-law, the Margravine of Misnia,
who had come to pay her u visit, and she did not comply with
his invitation. Annoyed at her disobedience, and for he*
having lost the indulgence of twenty days granted by the Pope
to all who should assist a his sermons, he sent her word that
thenceforth he would renounce all care of her soul. The next
morning she went to him, and begged him most earnestly to
recall this harsh rcsolation, and to pardon her fault. He re-
fused her at first, riidelj ; at length she threw herself at uia
feet, and, after supplicating for a long time in this posture, she
obtained his forgiveness ; but he imposed a severe penance on
her ard her maids of hoi.our, to whom he imputed a share in
her i'sotedience.

There remains to iw a precious memorial of the spiritual
Jirection which Convsx? exercised over his illustrious peni-
tent, in the twelve majjms which he gave her, as the sum-
mary of her rule of life these the chroniclers have carefully
preserved.

We transcribe 'Jfam exactly, as being at once the faithful
expression of tne motives that thenceforward governed her
life, and as the predictions or for esh ado wings of that glorious
destiny which she so rapidly and completely fulfilled :

1. Patiently endure contempt in the midst of voluntary
poverty.

2. Give humility the first place in your heart.

3. Renounce human consolations and the pleasures of th
flesh.

OF HUNGARY. 179

4. Be merciful in all things to your neighbour.

5. Have always the remembrance of God enshrined in youi

6. Return thanks to the Lord for having by his Passion re-
deemed you from hell and from eternal death.

7. Sin^e God has done so much for you, beai the Cross pa-
tiently.

8. Constfwate yourself entirely, body and soul, to Grod.

9. Recall irequently to your mind that you are the work
of the hands of trod, and act, consequently, in such a manner
as will ensure you/ being with Him for eternity.

10. Pardon in y&tit neighbour all that you desire that he
should forgive in you ; do for him all that you would wish he
should do for yott.

11. Often think ot the shortness of life, and that the
young die as well as the old ; ever, then, aspire to eternal
life.

12. Incessantly bewail yo.jr sins, and pray God to forgive
them.

ISO LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH.

CHAPTER XI.

DOW THE LORD WAS PLEASED TO MANIFEST HIS GRACES 2f TUB

PERSON OF THE DEAR SAINT ELIZABETH.

* "Ecce sancti tul, Domine, florent ante te slcut Hlinm."

St. Augustine, Me3.lt. o. 87

AFTER having thus traced the general features of the
character of Elizabeth, during all the time f her union with
Duke Louis, we must return to the early years of her married
life, to relate some of the incidents which varied its uniform-
ity, and which were at the same time touching proofs of
G.od's favour to His servant.

In 1221, a short time after her nuptials, King Andrew,
her father, who had assumed the Cross some years before,
and who had just returned from a glorious expedition in
Egypt, learned from a creditable source that his daughter
had been married, and was now really Duchess of Thuringia.
To be better assured of this fact, he ordered four great men
of his court, who were going on a pilgrimage to Aix-la-
Chapelle, to return by Thuringia, and to bring him exact
accounts "of his daughter of the kind of life she led, of the
state of her court, and the country she inhabited and to
invite her to come to Hungary, accompanied by her husband,
to rejoice her father's old age, for he was most anxious to see
them both.

These nobles, after having accomplished their pilgrimage
to Aix-la-Chapelle, took the route to Thuringia, instead of
that of Francouia, and soon arrived at Wartburg. The
Landgrave received them with kindness, but he just reuiem

OFHUNGART. 181

bered that his wife had no robes fit to appear in before her
guests, as she had already cut her wedding garments into
forms more suited to her modesty, and that there was not
time to order new ones. Full of uneasiness on this account,
he went to her chamber, and said, " Ah, dear sister ! here
have people just arrived from thy father's court ; I am sure
they have come to learn what manner of life thou leadest
with me, and to see if thou hast really the retinue of a
Duchess. But how canst thou appear before them ? Thou
art so continually occupied with thy poor ones, that thou
forgettest thyself ; and thou never wishest to wear ' other
clothes than those miserable enough to make us both ashamed.
What dishonour to me, when these men will go and tell in
Hungary that I let thee want for raiment, and that they
found thee in so pitiable a state, and naw I have no time left
to order others more suitable to thy rank and mine."

But she replied gently, "My dear lord and brother, let
not this disquiet thee ; for I have earnestly resolved never to
place my glory in my apparel. I can well excuse myself to
these lords, and I will endeavour to treat them with such
gaiety and affability, that I will please them as much as if I
wore the richest vesture." Immediately she krelt and begged
God to make her agreeable to her friends, and then having
dressed herself as well as she could, she went to join her hus-
band and her father's ambassadors.

]S"ot only did she enchant them by the cordiality of her
welcome, the sweetness and gentleness of her manners, by her
beauty that shone with a surpassing brilliancy and freshness,
nut to the great surprise of the Duke and to the admiration
of the strangers, she appeared clothed in magnificent silken
robes and covered with a mantle of azure velvet- embroidered
with pearls of great price The Hungarians said that the
Queen of France could not be more gorgeously attired. Aftei
a sumptuous festival the Duke endeavoured to retain hif

JS2 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

guests, bat they excused themselves saying that their com-
panion-pilgrims could not await them longer. He then went
down with them to the city, defrayed all the expenses incurred
by their followers, and accompanied them a certain distance on
their journey.

When he returned he went quickly to his wife, and asked
her anxiously how came she to be thus clad. Elizabeth replied
with a sweet and pious smile, " Behold what the Lord can do
when He pleases."

Several authors r< late a different version of this miracle.
They say that when the virtues of Elizabeth were noised
abroad, a powerful lord (according to some it was the Emperor
himself) was travelling through the dominions of the Land-
grave. The latter went to meet him, and wished to receive
him at his castle. But the stranger refused to accept the in-
vitation, unless the Duke promised that he should see and
speak to the Duchess. Louis cheerfully consented to this, and
brought the noble visitor to Wartburg. After a great ban-
quet the guest reminded his host of his promise. Louis sent
word to Elizabeth, who was in her chamber praying, and re-
quested her to come and "speak to them. But according to
her custom she had given all her clothes and jewels to the
poor, so she sent secretly to her Jmsband and begged him
humbly to excuse her for that time as she had not robes fit to
appear in before his guests. Thtf stranger still insisted ; Louis
arose .from table and went himself to ask her to come, and
at the same time reproved her gently for not having obeyed
him at once. " My dear lord," answered she, " I will go and
do as you will, for it would be wrong of me to contradict you
hi any thing ; I am yours, my lord, I have been given to you.
I have always loyally obeyed you, and henceforth I will also
do your will, for after God, you are my lord."

Then when he went out, she fell on her knees and said,
" Lord Jesus Christ, most clement and faithful Father, sweet

OF HUNGARY. 189

Consoler of the poor, and of all who are in trouble, friend and
sure helper of all who trust in Thee, come to the assistance
of thy poor servant who has despoiled herself of all her rich
raiment for the love of Thee." Immediately an angel ap-
peared and said to her, "0 noble spouse of the king of
Paradise, behold what God sends thee from heaven saluting
thee with tender affection : thou shalt invest thvsetf with thia

J / -

mantle, and thou shalt place on thy head this crown as a sign
of thy eternal glory." She thanked God, put on the crewn
and mantle, and went to the banquet hall. On seeing her so
richly-robed and beautiful, all the guests were wonder-stricken,
for her face shone like that of an angel. She sat in the
midst of them and saluted them with cordiality and gaiety,
then she spoke to them with words sweeter than honey, in such
.sort that they felt themselves more nourished by her dis-
course than by all the dainties of the feast. The stranger,
enchanted at having seen this Elizabeth whom he had so long
desired to know, took his leave ; the Duke accompanied him
a part of the way, and then quickly returned to his wife and
.asked whence had she such royal attire. She could not con-
ceal it from him. "Truly," said he, "our God is indeed
wonderful ! There is pleasure in serving so bounteous a mas-
ter who come so faithfully J;o the assistance of his own ; for my
part I wish to be, henceforth and for ever, more and more his
servant."

In the following year (1222), according to the invitation
. brought in his name by the ambassadors of King Andrew,
Duke Louis accompanied Elizabeth to Hungary. He con-
Oded the care of his territories during his absence to the
Counts de Muhlberg, de Gleichen, and others. He was at-
tended on the journey by Counts de Stolberg, de Schwartz-
burg de Besenburg, de Beichlingen, and a crowd of nobles,
amongst whom we remark Rodolphe de Yarila, son of the
Lord Gaultier who had brought Elizabeth from Hungary

184 IIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

eleven years before, and who succeeded his father, not only in
his office of great cup-bearer, but also in his loyal devotion tc
the Duchess. Elizabeth was attended by the wives of all the
lords we have mentioned, and by a great number of noble
dames and maidens.

King Andrew received his daughter and his son-in-law with
lively joy ; they remained a long time at his court, and assisted
at many festivals and tournaments, in which the Thuringian
knfghts distinguished themselves particularly. They wern
also present at King Andrew's marriage with Yolaude de
Courtenay, daughter of the French emperor of Constantinople,
whom he chose as his second wife. On this occasion the king
loaded them with presents, and gave them precious stones of
the greatest value. All the knights, and their ladies, and all
the attendants, even to the lowest domestics, received rich
gifts. He had also constructed a wagon of peculiar form, to
contain all the gold and jewels his daughter was to bring back
with her.

Before the time of departure, the king gave a great hunt-
ing party, knowing that Duke Louis loved the chase. After
this they separated, and the Duke brought back his wife,
together with his suite, and his new riches, happily to
Thuringia. . *

Soon after this time, the Duke gave his sister, the beauti-
ful Agnes, companion of Elizabeth's childhood, in marriage to
Henry, Duke of Austria, and whether for this occasion or to
celebrate his own return to his dominions, he gave a' Wart-
burg a great feast, to which he invited all the counts, and
the leading nobles of his duchy, with their wives. As they
were going to table, they remarked the absence of the 7 Vichess,
who had not come, according to custom, to wash h/-r handa
with her guests. They all declared they would not commence
until the Duchess came.

Meanwhile Elizabeth, in coming from the church *o tb

<;^-T^^

OF HUNGARY. 185

banquet hall, saw lying on the stair steps a poor man almost
naked, and looking so sick and weak that she was astonished
how he had strength enough to ascend from the city to the
castle.

When he perceived her, he begged some alms in honour of
Christ. She answered that she had not at that time anything
to give, but that she would send him some food from her
table. But the poor man insisted loudly that she should give
h-im something at once ; and the Duchess, conquered by her
pity, took off the precious silken mantle with which she was
covered, and threw it to the mendicant. The latter took it,
rolled it up hastily, and disappeared immediately. Elizabeth,
who had now but her robe without the mantle, (which was
entirely contrary to the custom of the time) dared not enter
the banquet-hall, but returned to her chamber, where she re-
commended herself to God. But the seneschal, who had seen
all that had passed, went at once to relate it to the Duke be-
fore all his guests. " Decide, my lord," said he, " if what our
most dear lady the Duchess has just done is right. Whilst
so many nobles are here awaiting her, she is occupied in
clothing the poor, and has just given her mantle to a beggar-
man." The good Landgrave said smilingly, " I will go and
see what this means, and she shall come to us immediately."
Then, quitting his guests for a moment, he went to Elizabeth
and said, " Beloved sister, wilt thou not come and dine with
us ? we should have been long since at table if we had not
awaited thee." " I am quite ready to do all thou wiliest, my
beloved brother," answered she. "Then," said the Duke,
" where is the mantle thou hadst when going to the Church ?"
" I have given it away, my good brother," said Elizabeth,
" but, if it is pleasing to thee, I will go as I am." At these
words, one of her waiting women said to her, "'Madam,
when coming here I saw your mantle hanging in its place in
the wardrobe, I will go and bring it to you," and she imme-

186 LIFB OF ST. EI-T7.ABETH,

diately returned with tko same mantle the poor man had
taken away. Elizabeth knelt a moment, and thanked God
hastily, then she went to the feast with her husband.
Whilst all the guests, tnd particularly the Duke of Austria
- and his young wife, were enjoying themselves, the Landgrave
Louis was serious and recollected, for he thought in his heart
of the numerous graces that God had conferred on his dear
Elizabeth.

" Who can doubt," says one of her pious and simple histo-
rians, " but that it was an angel that brought back the man-
tle, and that it was Christ himself who took the form of a
poor naked man to try his well beloved servant, as He did
formerly the glorious St. Martin ? Thus did He adorn Hia
dear flower, Elizabeth, this lily of purity and faith, more than
Solomon in all his glory."

But God granted to this noble and pious couple a grace
still sweeter and more dear to their hearts. The most pre-
cious blessings of the married life could not be refused by the
Almighty to these spouses, who afforded to all the model of
a Christian union. He gave to his faithful servant the gift of
fruitfulness, as it were, to recompense even here below the
purity of her soul and body. In 1223, Elizabeth being then
sixteen years old, became a mother for the first time.- At
the approach of her lying-in she was removed to the Castle
of Creutzburg, on the Werra, some leagues from Eisenach,
where she was far more tranquil than at Wartburg, which
was the centre of the political administration and government
of the country. She was also nearer to her husband, who
had gone to hold the meeting of the States of Hesse, at Mar-
burg. Several noble ladies came to assist and to watch by
her night and day. On the 28th March, three days after the
Annuneiationof our Lady, she brought forth her first-born.
The Duke had not been able to leave Marburg, and it was
there announced that a son was born to him. Louis, over

^:ffir^^^,^^~?^

OF HUNGARY. 187

joyed, richly rewarded" the messenger, and set out at oi.ce to,
rejoin the young mother ; he arrived time enough to see the
child baptized, and gave him the name of Hermann, in me-
mory of his father. To manifest the satisfaction which the
birth of this son caused him, Louis had a stone bridge erected
to replace the wooden one that led to the city of Creutz-
burg. This bridge still exists, with a beautiful Gothic
chapel dedicated to St. Liborius. A year after, 1224, the
Duchess gave birth to a daughter, who was named Sophia,
after the Duchess-dowager. This child was born at Wart-
burg, from which the Duke did not wish Elizabeth to remove.
In after years she was married to the Duke of Brabant ; and
the members of the present house of Hesse are reckoned
amongst her descendants. Elizabeth had two other daugh-
ters, one named also Sophia, and the third, born after her
father's death, Gertrude both were consecrated to God
from the cradle, and afterwards took the veil as spouses of
the Lord.

Faithful in all things to the humility and modesty she
had prescribed for herself, Elizabeth as scrupulously pre-
served these virtues in the midst of the joys of her maternity
as she had done in the magnificence of her sovereignty.

After each of her confinements, as soon as the moment of
her recovery arrived, instead of making it, as was the cus-
tom, the occasion of feasting and worldly rejoicing, she took
her new-born infant in her arms, went out secretly from the
castle, clad in a plain woollen robe, and barefooted, and
directed her steps towards a distant church, that of St.
Catherine, outside the walls of Eisenach. The descent waa
long and toilsome, the path covered with sharp thorns, by
which her feet were torn and bruised. On the way she
herself carried her infant as the spotless Yirgin had done.
When arrived at the .church she laid it on the altar, with a
taper and a lamb, saying, " Lord Jesus Christ, to you and tc

188 LIFE OV ST. ELIZABETH,

your dear Mother Mary, I offer this cherished fruit of my
womb. Behold, iny God and my Lord, I give it with all my
heart, such as you have given it to me ; to you who are the
sovereign and most loving Father of the mother and tho
child. The only prayer I make you to-day, and the only
grace I dare to request, is that it may please you tc receive
this little child, all bathed in my tears, into the number of
your servants, and your friends, and to give it your holv
benediction 1"

-vr , - -t

or &UNOAKT 188

CHAPTER XII.

HOW THE DUKE LOUIS PROTECTED HIS POOR PEOPLE.

" Liberabit pauperum a potente, panperum cut non erat adjutor. 1 '

Ps. Ixxi. 4, 12.

" Indutus cst jnstitia ut lorica, tit galea salutis in capite ejus : indutus eat vest!-
toentis ultionis, et opertus est quasi pallio zeli. . ."

"Quia ego Dominus, diligens judicium et odio habons rapinam." Is. lix. 17,
lzL8.

IN the lives of these holy spouses, all tends to demonstrate
to us the deep sympathy which united them, and how worthy
they were of each other. We have seen the Duchess employ-
ing all the energy and ingenious tenderness of her soul, in
solacing the woes of the unhappy who came within the sphere
of her labours; we have now to show how Louis conse-
crated his courage and military talents to the defence of the
interests of the people whom God committed to his care.
The innate love of justice that we have already mentioned as
one of his leading virtues, endowed him with so deep a sense
of the rights of his subjects, and so generous a sympathy
for tt em when their just privileges were invaded, that these
sole motives frequently urged him to distant and expensive
expeditions, the provocations to which profoundly astonished
his neighbours and his vassals. Thus in 1225 the Duke
learned that some of his. subjects who traded with Poland
and the other Sclavonian nations, were attacked and robbed
near the castle of Lubantsk, or Lubitz, in Poland. He re-
quested the Duke of Poland to make restitution to these un-
fortunates, and this was refused.

Then he convoked for the Feast of the Dispersion of the

190 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

Apostles, (in the ancient calendars this is marked for 15th
July), a considerable army, consisting of Hessians, Thurin-
gians, Franconians, and the Knights of Osterland. He led
this army secretly to the banks of the Elbe, without announc-
ing his intentions. Arrived at Leipsic, he was joined by the
Saxon lords of his Palatinate, and several armed men of
Misnia for he was guardian to his nephew, the young Mar-
grave of that province. Then did he declare to them that he
purposed going into Poland to besiege the castle of Lubantsk,
and to revenge the injury done to his poor subjects. This
caused great astonishment amongst his followers, who could
not understand why he would undertake so much for an
affair between common merchants. As he would not change
his purpose on account of their remonstrances, many of them
wished to withdraw, but shame, and perhaps a fear of his
severity, retained them. They were then obliged to follow
him to Poland, which he entered at the head of his army,
preceded by three thousand five hundred chosen men aa
pioneers, who arrived at Lubantsk three days before him.
They burned the city and besieged the castle whilst awaiting
him. The Duke of Poland was extremely surprised to learn
that the Landgrave of Thuringia had come such a distance
at the head of so powerful an army to invade his country,
and sent him offers of pecuniary satisfaction ; but Louis re-
pulsed them, saying, that these terms should have been rnada
when he wrote in a friendly manner, before he took the field,
as he did not now wish to let so long a journey go for
nothing. Then having arrived before Lubantsk, he eagerly
pressed the siege. The Polish prince sent a bishop to address
to him new and powerful representations. This bishop told
him that he should not forget that the Poles were also
famous warriors, and that if he did not return without delay,
the Duke of Poland would come on the following Monday
with his army, and exterminate all the Germans. -

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OF HUNGARY. 191

To tliis the Landgrave replied, that he Would be delighted
to make acquaintance with the Duke, and that he would
remain eight days after the appointed Monday, to see what
sort of people were these Poles.

But neither the Duke nor his Poles appeared. .Aftei
some, assaults the Castle surrendered, and Louis, after razing
it to the ground, returned home, leaving throughout all east-
ern Germany the most favourable opinion of his justice, cou-
rage, and love of the p :ople.

Some time after the Duke took the field for a cause which
seemed still more insignificant ; but this incident gives us sb
just an idea of the goodness and popularity of his character,
as well as of the manners of the age, that we shall relate it in
detail.

Two or three years before, at the annual fair at Eisenach,
as the Duke descended to the city, and amused himself in
looking at the shops and the stalls, he saw a pedlar who had
but a very small pack, containing thimbles, needles, spoons,
leaden images, and little ornaments for women. The Duko
asked him if he were able to make a livelihood out of
this traffic. "Well, my lord," replied 'the pedlar, "I am
ashamed to beg, and I am not strong enough for manual
labour ; but if I could only go in safety from city to city, I
could, with God's blessing, earn a living with this little tra<ie,
and even manage so that at the end of the year it would be
worth as much more as it was at the beginning."

The good Duke, touched with compassion, said to him,
" Well, I will grant thee a passport for a year ; thou shalt
pay neither taxes nor duties throughout the extent of my
dominions. How much is thy pack worth ?" " Twenty shil-
lings," said the pedlar. " Give him ten shillings," said the
Prince to his treasurer, who accompanied him, "and make
him out a passport with my seal affixed." Then turning to
wards the pedlar he said to him, " I wish to engage in half

/92 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

of thy business^ promise ice that thou wilt be a faithful part-
ner, and I will keep .thee from all harm." The poor pedlar
was overjoyed, and went his way with full confidence of suc-
cess. On the return of the new year, he came to meet his
noble associate at Wartburg, and showed him his pack,
which was ranch enlarged. The Landgrave took some little
matters, which he gave to his servants. On each New Year's
day the pedlar returned to Wartburg to inform the Prince
of the state of his funds, which soon became so considerable,
and his wares so many, that he could no longer carry them
on his back ; so he purchased an ass, made two bales of his
merchandise, and each time performed journeys longer and
more profitable.

Now it happened that towards the end of the year 1225,
the pedlar went to Venice, and purchased there a quan-
tity of rare and precious matters, large rings, bracelets and
brooches, crowns and diadems of jewels, cups and mirrors of
ivory, knives, adders' tongues, rosaries of coral, &c. And as
be was preparing to return to Thuringia, in order to be at
Wrtburg, as was his wont, on New Year's day, he arrived
at Wurtzburg in Franconia, where he exposed his wares for
sale. Certain Franconians, who came to inspect them, saw
many ornaments which they would be glad to have to present
to their wives and friends, but without paying for them. So
thfty watched for the pedlar's departure, and went some
distance from the city to lie in ambush for him ; as he passed
they rushed upon him, and carried off hi? ass and his mer-
chandise*

It was in vain that he showed them the passport granted
by the Landgrave of Thuringia ; they laughed at it, and were
going to bind him, to bring him away with them, and it was
with difficulty he escaped from their hands. He went in
Badness to Eisonach to seek his sovereign and associate, and
Delated to Mm to misfortune. " My dear partner," said the

fiW^rfsP^!^

OF HUNGARY.

good prince smiling, " be not so troubled at the loss of our
goods ; have a little patience, and leave me the care of
seeking them." Immediately he convoked the counts, knights,
and squires of the neighbourhood, and even the peasants, who
fought on foot, put himself at their head, entered without
delay into Franconia, devastating the country to the gates of
Wurtzburg, inquiring everywhere for his ass. Ou hearing
of this invasion, the Prince Bishop of Wurtzburg sent to ask
him what he meant by such conduct. The Duke replied that
he was seeking a certain ass of his which the bishop's men had
stolen. The prelate had restitution made to him at once for
the ass and the baggage, and the good Duke returned home
triumphant, to the great admiration of the poor people, whose
zealous defender he was.

But whilst he was thus occupied he received from the
Emperor Frederic II. an invitation to join him in Italy. He
set out immediately, and crossed the Alps before the end of
winter. He went with the Emperor through all the campaign
against the Bolognese, and the other insurgent cities, and
was at the great Diet of Cremona in 1226.

The Emperor was so satisfied with his courage and devotion
that he granted him the investiture of the Margravate of
Misnia, in case the posterity of his sister Judith, widow of the
late Margrave, became extinct, and also that of all the country
he could conquer in Prussia and Lithuania, whither he enter-
tained the project of going to extend the Christian faith.
9

194 LIFE Of ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER XIII.

A GREAT FAMINE DEVASTATED THTTKINGIA, AND HOW THE DEAB
ST. ELIZABETH PRACTISED ALL THE WORKS OF MEBOY.

"Esnrlvi, et dedistis mibi msnducare; sitivi, et dedistis mihi bibere; bcspes eram
et collegistia me; nudus, et cooperaistis me; inflrmus, et visitastis me in careen
eram, et venistis ad me." St. Matt. xxv. 84-86.

SCARCELY had the Duke set out under the imperial banner,
when a frightful famine overspread all Germany, and particu-
larly ravaged Tkuringia. The famished people were reduced
to the greatest extremities ; the poor went out into the fields
and forests, and to the waysides, in search of roots and wild
fruits, such as were usually the food of animals. They de-
voured dead horses and asses, and even the most unclean
beasts ; a great number of these unfortunates died of hunger,
and the roads were covered, with their bodies. At the sight
of so much misery, Elizabeth's heart was filled with pity.
Henceforward her only thought, her only occupation, by night
and by day, was the relief of her unhappy people. The
castle of Wartburg, where her husband had left her, became
the source of boundless charity, whence flowed unceasingly
inexhaustible benefits to the population of the neighbourhood.
She began by distributing to the indigent of the duchy, all
the ready money in the ducal treasury, which amounted to
the enormous sum, for that time, of sixty-four thousand
golden florins ; these were the proceeds of the sale of certain
properties.

Then she caused all her husband's granaries to be opened,
and notwithstanding the opposition of the officers of th

PPPPIPIP^

OF H-PTOART. '195

household, she gave all the grain they contained, without any
reserve, to the poor. There was so much in store, that ac-
cording to contemporary writers, to buy the quantity of corn
thus disposed of, the, two greatest castles, and several cities
of the duchy should be put in pledge. Elizabeth knew how
to unite prudence with this boundless generosity. Instead of
giving out the corn in great quantities, in which it might be
wasted, she distributed every day to each person the portion
requisite for sustenance.

In order to avoid all unnecessary expense, she Lad every
day, as much bread baked at the castle as all its ovens could
contain, and this she served with her own hands to the poor.
Nine hundred persons came daily to be fed, and departed
laden with her alms. But there were many more whom
weakness, illness and infirmity hindered from ascending the
mountain on which the ducal residence waa situated, and it
was for these that Elizabeth redoubled her care and compas-
sion during those awful times. To the weakest she daily
carried the remains of her repasts and those of her maidens,
and their scanty meals -weve almost untasted through fear of
lessening the share of the poor. In the hospital containing
twenty-eight beds, which she had founded midway on the as-
cent to the castle, she placed the sufferers who required her
immediate care ; and she had it so organized, that no sooner
tfas one poor person dead, than his bed was immediately occu.
pied by some newly-admitted patient.

She established two gJmshouses in the city of Eisenach
one for poor women,"under the invocation of the Holy Spiril^
near the gate of St. George ; another under that of St Ann,
for the sick in general. The latter exists to this day.

Twice every day without fail, at morn and at eventide,
tLe young Duchess descended and reascended the toilsome
road from Wartburg to these houses, regardless . of
fatigue she thereby endured, in order that she might visit

196 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

pocr ones, and carry to them all that would be useful fol
their wants. When arrived at these asylums of misery, she
ased to go from bed to bed, asking all what they wished for,
i^nd performing for each services the most repulsive, with a
tfeal and tendernesss which the love of God and his special
grace alone could inspire. She fed with her own hands those
whose maladies were most severe ; she made their beds,
raised and carried them on her back, or in her arms, to lay
them on other couches , she washed their faces with her own
veil, and did all with a gaiety and amenity that nothing
could alter. Though she had a natural repugnance to bad
*ir, and it was generally most trying to her, still she would
remain in the midst of the mephitic atmosphere of the sick
wards, even during the summer heats, without expressing
the slightest dislike, though her attendants could not endxire it,
but often murmured loudly.

Elizabeth founded in one of these hospitals an asylum for
deserted children, or orphans; these were the objects of her
special tenderness, and she lavished on them the most affec-
tionate cave. Their little hearts soon understood how sweet a
mother the Lord had deigned to give them in their misery.
Whenever she came amongst them they ran to meet her, and
clung to her garments, crying out, Mamma ! Mamma ! She
used to have them sitting around her, and used to distribute
little presents to them, and examine the state of each one.
She testified particular affection and pity for those most de-
formed or repulsive, by taking them*on her knees and fondly
caressing them.

Elizabeth was not only the benefa'ctress of these poor
people, but also theiF Mend and confidant. One poor sick
.man .related to her privately that his conscience was burthened
with the remembrance of a debt he owed. She quieted him
by promising to discharge it herself, which she immediately
did. The time that she could spare from the superintendence

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OF HUNGARY. 197

of these hospitals she employed' in visiting the suburbs of
"Wartburg, iii distributing provisions and assistance to t?xa
poor who could not come to the castle, in entering the poor-
est cabins, and performing for their inmates offices the lowest
and most beneath her rank. One day she went into the hut
of a sick woman who was alone, and who begged plaintively
for some milk, saying that she had not sufficient strength
to go and milk her cow ; immediately the humble princess
entered the stable and set about milking the cow, but the
animal, little accustomed to be touched by such delicate
hands, would not permit her to accomplish her benevolent
intention.

Elizabeth loved to attend the poor in their agony, in order
to assuage their pains, to receive their last sigh with a kiss of
sisterly charity, to pray to God fervently during entire houra
to sanctify their deaths, and to receive their souls into His
glory. She most faithfully continue'd her custom of watching
the obsequies of these lowly ones ; and, notwithstanding thy
increase of mortality, she was seen continually following their
remains to the grave, after seeing them enveloped in cloth
woven by her own hands for this purpose, or else chosen from
her own garments, as she frequently cut up the large white
veil which she was in the habit of wearing. She could not
bear that the rich should be buried in new or expensive
shrouds, but ordered that their grave-clothes should be old
or coarse, and that the difference in value between them and
the new should be given to the poor.

Neither did poor prisoners escape her solicitude. She
visited them wherever she heard of such being confined ; with
money she delivered those detained for debt ; she cleansed
and anointed the wounds produced by the chains on the
others ; and then, kneeling by their sides, she would with
them beg God to watch over and to preserve them from all
future pain or punishment.

198 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

All these occupations, so calculated to fill the soul with
fatigue, disgust, and impatience, inspired her with celestial
peace and joy ; whilst she poured forth on her poor brethren
the riches of her charity, her heart and mind were frequently
elevated to the Lord, and her benevolent occupations were
often interrupted to say to Him aloud : " Lord, how can
I sufficiently thank you for having given me cause to gather
together these poor ones, who are your dearest friends, and to
permit me to serve them myself." And one day as she made
this ejaculatory prayer in the hospital, the patients thought
they saw an angel appearing and saying to her, " Rejoice,
Elizabeth, for thou also art the friend of God thou shinest
before his eyes like the moon."

Other wonderful signs seemed to prove to simple and faith-
ful souls how agreeable to God were the charity and humility
of this princess. One day when she had bought in the city
some earthen vases, and several kinds of rings, and toys of
glass for her class of poor children, as she returned to the
castle in a carriage, the awkwardness of the driver caused the
vehicle to overturn, and it fell from a rock on a heap of stones ;
yet Elizabeth was not hurt, nor was one of the toys which she
carried broken. She immediately brought these presents to
her little charge, to gladden them.

Another time, as 'she carried in her apron some food to a
group of mendicants, she saw with uneasiness that she had
not a sufficient quantity to give some to each, and that every
moment more supplicants arrived. She then began to pray
interiorly while distributing the food, and found that, accord
ing as she gave pieces away, they were replaced by others,
o that after giving each beggar his share there was still some
left. She returned to the castle, singing with her companions
the praises of God, who had deigned to communicate to
her his all-powerful virtue according to his formal promise :
" Amen, amen, I say to you, he that believeth in me, the worTet

^ijjIgimfjjZw^

Ol' HUNGARY. 19.9

that I do, he also shall 70, and greater than these shall ht
do." Ft. John xiv. 12.

It v as not only on the people in the neighbourhood of her
residem e that Elizabeth lavished her care and love. The
inhabitants of even the most distant parts of her husband's
dominie as were equally the objects of her sovereign and ma-
ternal solicitude. She gave express orders that the revenues
derived by Duke Louis from Thuringia, Hesse, the Palatinates
of S ixe and Osterland, should be exclusively consecrated to
the i elief and support of the poor whom the famine had left
with )ut resources, 'and watched the exact execution of thia
order, notwithstanding the opposition of the officers of the
Duke. Yet to satisfy still further for the want of her per-
sonal care, which distance prevented her from rendering, she
sold all her jewels, precious stones, and valuable articles, and
distributed to them their price. These regulations were con-
tinued until the harvest of 1226 ; th'en the Duchess assembled
all the poor who were able to work, men and women ; she
gave tt am new clothes and shoes, that their feet might not
be wounded or torn by the stubble in the fields, and set them
all to labour. To all those who were not strong enough to
work, she distributed clothes which she had made or purchased
for this purpose. She made this distribution with her own
hands, and bade these poor ones an affectionate farewell,'
giving Also to each a small sum of money ; and when her
money failed, she took her veils and silken robes, and divided
them a.nongst the women, saying to them, " I do not wish
that yo a should retain these matters for dress, but that you
should sell them to satisfy your wants ; and also that you
should labour according to your strength, for it is written,
1 Tha ' he who works not, eats no." " Qui no i laborat non
duiet"

A poor old woman, to whom the Duchess had given a
, shoes, and a cloak, was so rejoiced, that, after crying

200 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

out that she was never so happy in her life, she swooned
away as one dead. The good Elizabeth hastened to raise
her, and reproached herself as having sinned in endangering
by her imprudence the life of this woman

We have visited with a tender respect and scrupulous care
the place which was the centre of a charity so inexhaustible),
a devotion so heavenly We have followed over the rugged
pathways trodden by the feet of the indefatigable friend of
the poor ; for a long while did we contemplate the magnifi-
cent scenery visible from the height of Wartburg, thinking,
meantime, that the blessed eyes of Elizabeth had also during
the greater part of her life looked upon this vast extent of
country, and glanced upon it all with a ray of that love which
has neither its origin nor its recompense in this world.

Alas I the monuments founded by this royal lady have all
perished ; the people forgot her when they lost the faith of
their fathers ; some names alone have been retained, and
these preserve for the- Catholic pilgrim the traces of the be
loved Saint.

Even in the castle of Wartburg, the remembrance of Lu-
ther, of pride revolted and victorious, has dethroned that ol
the humility and charity of Elizabeth ; in the ancient chape}
where she so often prayed, the traveller is shown the pulpit
of the proud heresiavch. But the site of the hospital which
she had erected at her palace-gates, that she might never
forget human miseries in the splendour of her rank, has been
left to her and preserves her name. An hundred years aftei
her death, in 1331, the hospital was replaced by a convent of
Franciscans, founded in her honour by the Landgrave, Fred-
erick the Serious. At the Reformation it was suppressed,
and the seventeen other convents and churches of Eisenacb
were destroyed and pillaged in one day, whilst the priests and
monks walked two aud two, chaunting the Te Deum, heed
leas of the clamour cf the populace. The foundation of tha

OF H-UNGART. 201

Benefactress of the country was hot more respected, and the
Btoi/es of it were employed to repair the fortifications of the
castle.

But there remains a fountain of pure and sparkling water,
flowing into a massive basin hollowed out of the rock, with-
out any ornament saving the wild flowers and greensward
surrounding it. This was where Elizabeth washed the linen
of the poor, and it is still called "EUzabettis Fountain." All
around is a bushy plantation which hides this place from the
greater number of the passers-by ; there are ftlso some traces
of a surrounding wall, and the enclosure is called by the peo-
ple "Mizabet/i's Garden."

Further still to the east, at the foot of the mountain on
which Wartbourg is built, between it and the ancient Car-
thusian monastery, consecrated to our Saint in 1394, may be
Been a lovely valley watered by a peaceful stream running ia
the midst of fields variegated with roses and lilies ; the banks
are shaded by venerable oaks, remains of the ancient forests
of Germany. In one of its windings there is a secret a-od
lonely spot wherein is a poor cabin, and where formerly there
was a chapel. It was here Elizabeth received the poor,
God's friends and hers ; it was here she came, tender, inge-
nious, indefatigable, by hidden pathways through the woods,
laden with provisions and other aid, to save them the pain of
ascending the toilsome road to the castle, and also to prevent
the remarks of men. This solitary spot is still called the
u Field of Lilies;" this humble cabin the "Repose of tht
Poor," and the valley formerly bore the sweet name of
u Elizabeth' & Valley"'
V*

202

LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER XIY.

HOW DUKE LOUTS RETURNED TO HIS WIFE, AND HOW HE KEHDEREI
TRUE JUSTICE TO HIS DEAR MONKS OF REYNHARTSBRUNB .

Confidit in ea cor virl snl. Prov. xxxl. 2.

" In tribns placitum est spiritui meo. Concordia fratrum, et amor prox.morum,
et vir et mulier bene sibi consentientes." Ecclea. xxv. 1, 2.

Louis, informed no doubt of the woes that afflicted his
people, demanded and obtained permission from the 1 mperor
to return to his dukedom. He set out on the 23d of June,
1226, and arrived at Cremona on St. John's eve, just as the
people were kindling the fires on the surrounding heights.
After having happily crossed the Alps, he took up his quar-
ters with a prince, not named by historians, but who was his
near relative and friend. He was received with ceremony
and magnificence ; and after superb feasting, with music and
singing, he was conducted to his sleeping-chamber, where the
prince, anxious to test the virtue of his guest, had placed a
young woman of extraordinary beauty. But the young duke
said immediately to his faithful attendant, t"he lord de Varila,
" Take away this young woman quietly, and give her a mark
of silver wherewith to buy a new mantle, that want ma^ not
again urge her to expose herself to sin. I say unto thee in
all sincerity, that even if adultery were not a sin before God,
uor a scandal in the eyes of my fellow men, I v, ould never
consent to it, solely through love for my dear Elizabeth, and
fear of saddening or troubling her soul."

The next morning, as the prince jested with him on this
subject, Louis replied, "Know, my cousin, that to obtain
7*

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OF HUN.IAKT. 203

the whole Roman empire I would not commit such a sin."
Then continuing his journey he arrived at Augsbourg on the
2d July ; here he remained fifteen days to recommend the
cause of Henry, son of the Emperor, to the Duke of Bavaria,
and to obtain his consent to receive this young prince at hia
court. Having succeeded in this, he set out for Thuringia
and passed the Mein at Schweinfurt, where he was received
with great honour by the burgesses ; but after supper he waa
warned that Count Poppin, his deadliest enemy, intended to
surprise and attack him during the night. To avoid this
danger he set out immediately, travelled all night, and arrived
at Wartburg next day, which was on Friday about the hour
of Nones.

The news of the approach of the beloved prince had filled
all Thuringia with immense joy The famine-stricken saw in
the. return of their father and generous protector, hope for the
termination of their woes. His mother, his young brothers
were gladdened, but the joy of Elizabeth surpassed that of all
the others. It had been the first prolonged absence of the
husband so dear to her, who alone understood and sympa-
thised with all the aspirations of her soul to God a*nd towards
a still more perfect life. She alone also fathomed the depth
of his soul's riches, whilst the rest of mankind attributed to
him failings and passions like to the other princes of his time.
The principal officers of his household, particularly the Se-
neschal a,nd the Marshalj fearing the anger of their lord,
when he should have learned the use that had been made of
his treasures and provisions, went out to meet him, and de-
nounced to him what they denominated the reckless expendi-
ture of the Duchess; how she had emptied the granaries ol
Wartburg, and used all the money left in their cave, notwith-
standing their efforts to prevent her. These complaints but ir-
ritated the Duke, and he spoke to them thus : " Is my dear wife
well ? that is all I care to know, the rest matters not !" Then

204 LIFE OF ST. ELI/A BETH,

he added, " I wish that you would allow ray good little Eliza*
beth to give as much alms as she pleases, and that you would
rather assist than contradict her ; let her give as much as sha
wishes for God's sake, provided only that she leaves me Eise-
each, Wavtburg, and Naumburg. God will return the rest
whan he thinks it good. We shall never be impoverished by
alms-deeds."

He then hastened to meet his beloved Elizabeth. When
she saw him her joy was boundless ; she threw herself into
his arms, and kissed him a thousand times with her lips and
in her heart. " Dear sister," said he, while he held her in his
embrace, " what has become of thy poor people during this
bad year ?" She replied gently, " I have given to God what
belonged to Him, and God has taken care of what belonged
to tiiee and to me."

Tradition adds, that as the Duke passed with her through
his great hall, he saw corn flowing in under all the doors, so
that they walked upon it. Then having sent the Seneschal
to see whence it came, the latter replied that the presses were
so full of corn that the grain ran over ancj covered the ground.
Then Louis and his wife blessed God. The lord de Yarila
then came to the Duchess and related what had happened at
the prince's, where her husband's fidelity had been put to the
proof. She immediately knelt, and said, " Lord, I am not
worthy to have so good a husband ; but aid us both to
observe the sanctity of marriage, so that we may live eter-
nally in Thy presence."

No sooner had he returned to his dominions, than this
noble and pious prince occupied himself in considering the
interests of his subjects. Whilst he watched Vith prudence
and intelligence over the impcrtant negotiations, with which,
notwithstanding his extreme youth, the Emperor intrusted
him, he had always his sword at hand to protect the monks
and the poor.

^ffffW'^5?^

or HUNGARY. 205

Even while serving as a mediator between the Emperor
ami Ottocar, King of Bohemia, and treating of a marriage
between the daughter of this sovereign and Henry, the young
king of the Romans, he went through his dominions to dis-
cover and to repair any wrongs committed towards the poor
people during his absence.. Several nobles of Osterland, who
had oppressed their vassals and disturbed the public peace,
took to flight on hearing of his coming ; he occupied their
castles, and completely destroyed those of Sultz and Kal-
benriick.

Louis went as soon as possible to visit his dear monks of
Ileynhartsbrunn. The Abbot complained to him that a
neighbouring lord of Saltza had profited of his absence to
usurp possession of a piece of ground belonging to the monas-
tery, on the mountain called Aldenberg, which governs the
valley wherein the monastery was situated, and tha^ he had
thereon built a fortification from which' he continually annoyed
the religious and their people. It was on Saturday evening
that Louis arrived and heard this complaint. He wrote at
once to the Seneschals of Wartburg and Eisenach to come
and bring with them their armed men and scaling-ladders, to
meet him at the convent next morning before light.

At the dawning of Sunday morning he heard a low mass,
and told the Abbot not to carry his cross, nor to permit high
mass to be sung until his return ; then he mounted his horse,
headed his soldiers, and conducted them at once to the battle-
field. The surprise was complete, the walls were scaled, and
the lord of Saltza himself taken prisoner. The Duke had
him brought or. foot to the Abbey. As soon as they arrived
the cross was carried out, and the usual procession for mass
formed, whilst the usurper-knight and his soldiers were led ia
chains before the cross. The chanter entoned the verse :

"Domine, tu biuniliastl steal vulneratun. superbum."

20C LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

and all the religious responded

"In brachio virtutis true dispenlsti inimlcos tuos."

After Mass, the Duke made the lord of Saltza swear that
ho would renounce every ulterior proceeding against the
monastery, and then he released him. after giving orders to
have the castle he had taken that morning immediately razed
to the ground.

The good prince dreaded putting the monastery to any
expense on his account ; he established a kitchen and a
larder for the use of his attendants when he made any delay
ihere ; and, when going away, he always took care to have
as much provision left behind as supported the convent for
three days. But on the Sunday of the expedition against
the lord of Saltza, the Abbot prayed him to take his repast
with him, and provided a rich and abundant feast. When
rising from table, Louis took his treasurer aside, and desired
that a large recompense should be given on this occasion.
This officer sought the monks to give them the money, but
they refused positively to take it, " as was fitting conduct for
well-born religious," says the almoner who has left us the
recital of this scene. "Dear lord treasurer," said they, " all
that we can do, poor monks that we are, is at the disposal of
our good prince, not only to-day, but every time he desires
anything'; but we will not take his money." The treasurer
insisted no longer, but set out with the Duke. When they
were half-way to Eisenach, Louis turned to him, and asked
how he had fulfilled his orders. The treasurer related all
that had passed, upon which the 'Duke, quite irritated, said,
*' Since thou didst not pay for what I bought with my money,
thou must pay it with thine own." And the poor man was
obliged to return to Reynhartsbrunn, and to pay from his
own purse even to the last farthing.

A little time after, the Abbot of the samp monastery made

IPlfSiiPlip^^

OF HUNGARY. 207

known to Louis that certain honourable- people of Franconia
had carried away from him a hogshead of wine and six horses.
The Duke summoned them to make immediate restitution of
the stolen goods ; and as his command wa% suffered to remain
unheeded, he entered Eranconia at the head of an army,
ravaged the possessions of the guilty party, and obliged the
latter to come in their shirts, with ropes around their necks,
and barefooted, to make an apology at the convent. He
released them, after making them agree to send to the monks
a great quantity of the best wine and several good horses.

About this time there was held a great court, or assembly
of princes, at Mersebourg, to which the nobles of Misnia, Sax-
ony, and the Brandenburgian provinces repaired. Those ol
Hesse and Thuringia also went there, guided by the example
of their Duke Louis, who brought with him his Elizabeth ac
companied by a numerous court. One circumstance whict
well depicts the manners of the age renders this meeting re
markable.

A Thuringian knight, renowned for his valour and piety,
Walter de Settlestcedt, a friend of Louis, and one of the officers .
of his household, followed his sovereign ; he brought with
him a maiden of rare beauty, mounted on a superb palfrey,
with a good falcon on her wrist.

On the journey he stopped after every three miles to joust
against all comers, on condition that, if he was unhorsed, his
victorious adversary should carry off his armour and equip-
ments, the palfrey and the falcon from the maiden, and the
maiden should redeem herself by giving a golden ring ; if, ou
the contrary, Lord Walter was victor, the vanquished should
offer the lady a gold ring. At every halt made by the lord
of Settlestoedt, there were strifes amongst the knights for the
honour of tilting against him. To restore peace, he was
obliged each time to point out him whom he selected to be
his adversary. He thus travelled to Mersefoourg and back

208 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

again without ever being conquered, and on re-entering Thu
ringia, his fair attendant had on each finger of both hands a
Ting paid by a vanquished knight. Lord Walter offered these
ten rings to the laflies of honour of the Duchoss Elizabeth,
at which they were much rejoiced, and with -their royal mi
trees they returned him hearty thanks for his generosity.

OF HUNGARY. 209

CHAPTER XT.

BOW THE GOOD DUKE LOUIS TOOK UP THE CROSS, AND OP THE GREA1
GEIEF WHEREWITH HE BADE FAREWELL TO HIS FRIENDS, HIS
FAMILY, AND THE DEAR SAINT ELIZABETH.

" Oscnlantes se alterutrnm fleverunt pariter." 1 Reg. xx. 41.

"Quo abiit dilectus taus, o pulcherriina mulierum? Quo declinavit dilectus?"

Cant. v. 17

tt St do thou also learn to part with a necessary and beloved friend for th lovo of
God." ImitaMon of Christ, B. 2, 0. 9.

THURINGIA did not long enjoy the presence of its beloved
sovereign after his return from Italy, and Elizabeth, wbo had
welcomed her husband again to her side with a joy so lively
and so tender, was soon to be condemned to another separa-
tion far more painful and uncertain. In a word, all Germany
prepared for a crusade. The Emperor Frederic II., yielding
at length to the frequent exhortations of the Sovereign Pon-
tiffs, Honorius III. and Gregory IX., invited all the nobility
and the faithful of Christendom to range themselves under
the banner of the Cross, and to follow him to the Holy Land
in the autumn of 1227. The idea and name of CRUSADE were
alone sufficient to make the hearts of all nations beat with
ardour. The^e great and holy expeditions exercised over
souls an influence so powerful that no valiant knight nor
pious and fervent Christian could resist it. The remembrance
of the almost fabulous exploits of Richard Coeur de Lion,
forty years before, still lived in the minds of the Chivalry and
the people. The brilliant and unhoped for success of the
Fourth Crusade, dazzled all Europe. People saw the destruc-
tion of that ancient empire of Byzantium, which never did else

210 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH

than betray the Christians who were fighting for the faith,
but which still occupied an immense place in the veneration
of Christendom, and from the ruins of which was destined to
rise a new empire founded by a few French knights and some
Venetian merchants. In this there was sufficient to awaken
all imaginations, even without the inspiration of faith, and
these had not yet lost any portion of their strength. The
whole of the thirteenth century was penetrated with an ear-
nest desire to rescue the tomb of Christ, and to bow down
the power of the East before the cross. The feeling was" ex-
tinguished only at the death of St. Louis. Germany, which
was never before the first to engage in these noble perils, was
now inflamed with an enthusiasm that burst forth particu-
larly in the numerous songs of the age. Walther Yon der
Vogelweide, whose poems mirror most faithfully the manners
and feelings of his time, and who entered this crusade, has
best expressed the attraction felt by Christian souls towards
the land where Christ's sacred blood was shed for our salva-
tion. " We all know," said he before he set out on this ex-
pedition, " how unhappy is this holy and noble laud, how
abandoned she is and desolate ! W'eep, Jerusalem ! weep I
how art thou forgotten ! Life passes, death will find us still
sinners. It is in dangers and trials that we acquire grace ;
let us go to heal the wounds of Christ ; let us go to free His
country from her chains. Queen of all women, come to
our aid ! It was there thy Son so pure was baptized to pu-
ilfy us ! it was there He was sold to redeem us, He so rich,
we so poor ! It was there He suffered a most cruel death !
Hail to you! Lance, Cross, Thorns ! Defeat to you pagans !
By the arms of His heroes does God wish to revenge the in-
juries done Him," These were also the emotions expressed
by the royal bard of Navarre, Thibault of Champagne, in
Borne of the fine poems addressed by him to his nobles.
" Know well, my lords," says he, '' that he who goes not

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OF HTJNGART.

to this land, who takes not up the Cross beyond the seas,
will find it hard to enter Paradise. Every man who feela
Borne pity for the sufferings, and preserves the remembrance
of the most High Lord, should strive to revenge Him. and to
deliver His country. All the valiant knights, all who love
God and the honour of this world, all who wish to go wisely
to God, will go there ; none will remain at home but the
slothful and indifferent. How blind are they who during
their lives do nought for God, and who for so little lose even
the glory of this world. God who deigned to suffer death for
us on the Cross, will say on the day of the great judgment,
1 You who have aided me to carry my Cross, shall go to join
the blessed company of the angels ; there you will see me,
and my mother Mary: but you, who never did me any service,
shall descend into Hell.' Sweet Lady, crowned Queen, pray
for us, most blessed Virgin, and nought then can harm us."

In no heart could these sentiments find a deeper echo
than in that of Duke Louis of Thuringia, whose vassal the
poet Walther had been. No one could more earnestly desire
to follow the emperor and his brothers in arms to the rescue
of the Holy Land. His brilliant courage, the fervour of hia
faith and piety, all that was in his young soul of generous,
ardent, disinterested, in a word, all that was Christian, com-
bined to induce him to take up the Cross, or as it was then
called in Germany to adorn himself with the flower of Christ

To these personal motives were added the noble examples
presented by the records of his family. Louis the pious, bro-
ther and predecessor of his father, had accompanied Richard
Cceur de Lion, and Philip Augustus to Palestine, and ac-
quired a glorious renown. His father-in-law, King Andrew
of Hungary, had spent several years of his life under an
eastern sky, fighting against the infidels.

It would be unworthy of Lo'jis to remain by his fire-side ;
so be did not waver long, but soon 3am e to a noble deter-

12 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

minatiou. Having met during one of his journeys with the
venerable Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim, he confided to him
his intention, and having received his approbation he made a
TOW to join the expedition then in preparation, and received
the cross from the hands of this prelate.

Meanwhile when returning to Wartburg he thought upon
11. e grief and deep anxiety that his beloved Elizabeth would
feel on learning his resolution ; and besides, as she was then
pregnant of her fourth child, he had not courage to speak of
it to her. He decided upon concealing his project until the
moment of his departure, in order that she whom he loved so
much should not be over afflicted lest of injury to her health;
so in place of attaching the Gross exteriorly to his person, he
wore it secretly.

But one evening as they sat alone, side by side, Elizabeth,
in a moment of the tender familiarity that existed between
them, unloosed her husband's belt and began to search the
almspurse attached to it. Immediately she drew from it the
Cross, the usual badge of a crusader. At this sight she felt
the misfortune that threatened her, and seized by grief and
affright she fell senseless to the ground. The Duke raised
her, and strove to calm her sorrow by the sweetest and most
affectionate words; he spoke to her for a long time, using. the
voice of religion, and even the language of the holy Scrip-
tures, to which she was never insensible. " It is for the love
of our Lord Jesus Christ," said he, " that I go. Thou wilt
not prevent me from doing for G-od what I should do for a
temporal prince for the emperor or the empire, if they re-
quired my services." After a long silence and much, weepfng
ehe said to him, " Dear brother, if it be not against God's
will, remain with me." But he replied, "Dear sister, per-
mit me to set out, for I have made a vow to God. ?J Then
entering iutc^ herself she immolated her will to God and said
to her husband, "Against God's will, I wish not to detain

OF HUNGARY. d

thee. I have offered thee and myself as a sacrifice to Him
May He in His goodness watch over thee. May all happi-
ness, attend thee for ever ! This shall be my prayer each

Go then in the name of God."
again remained in silence, but afterwards spoke of
Le child she then bore in her womb, and they resolved to
onsecrate it to God from its birth. In case it was a boy
ihey agreed that he should enter the abbey of Ramersdorf ;
out if a girl, that she should be sent to the monastery of the
Premonstratensians near Wetzlar.

The Duke having no longer any motive to keep his deci-
sion secret, made it known to all his subjects. He announced
at the same time that this expedition should be formed en
tirely at his own expense, and that for its maintenance he
would not levy any extraordinary tax upon his subjects ;
happy to be able thus to return to the Lord some of the
blessings he had received from Him.

After having made all the military preparations that his
project required, he convoked the estates of his dominions to
a solemn assembly at Creutzburg. He detailed to them his
design, and took with them the necessary measures for the
good government of his country during his absence. He
exhorted his nobles to rule the people with mildness and
equity, and to let justice and peace reign over them and their
vassals. Before quitting the assembly, he addressed the fol-
lowing words in a gentle tone of voice to his audience :

"Dear and loyal broth ers-in-arms, barons, lords, and noble
knights, and you, my faithful people, you know that during
the lifetfme of my lord and father of pious memory, our
country had cruel wars and many troubles to endure. You
know how my ,royal father suffered pains, reverses, and
fatigues, to defend himself against his relentless enemies, and
to preserve his kingdom from utter ruin. He succeeded by
dint of courage and generosity, and his name became fop

':?"** &*'* r-w-^

214 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

midable to all. As for me, God has granted to me, as he
did to Solomon, son of David, peaceful and tranquil days.
I know not any neighbour that I have reason to fear, neither
can any one dread from me unlawful violence. If in times
past I have had some conflicts, I am now at peace with all,
thanks to the Lord the Giver of peace. You should all be
sensible of this blessing, and thank God for it. As for me,
through love for that God who has loaded me with favours,
to testify to him my gratitude, and for the salvation of my
soul, I am now going to the eastern country to the succour of
oppressed Christianity, and to defend it against the enemiea
of the name and of the blood of Christ. I undertake this
distant expedition at my own expense, without burthening
you, my dear subjects, with any additional impost.

"I recommend to the protection of the Most High my
good and well-beloved wife, my little children, my dear bro-
thers, my friends, my people, and my country ; in a word, all
that I leave, with a willing heart, for the honour of His holy
name.

" I earnestly recommend you to keep peace between you
during my absence ; above all, I hope that my nobles will
conduct themselves in a Christian-like manner towards my
poor people. In fine, I beg of you to pray frequently to
God for me that he may preserve me from all misfortune
during this journey, and that He may bring me safe and
sound again to you, if-it be His most merciful will, for I
submit myself, and you,, and all that I hold dear, to the
pleasure of His Divine Majesty."

In these touching words is revealed to us all the depth of
what was then called " The Mystery of the Crusade, 1 " a mys-
tery of faith, devotion, and love, ever impenetrable to the
cold understandings of faithless ages. In listening to this
farewell, so worthy of a Christian prince, all the assembly
was deeply moved ; the strongest knights were oppressed

;3pffpSi^5>l^5f^

OF HUKGABT. 215

with grief, and with sighs and tears expressed the anxiety
caused them by the approaching departure of their young
and well-beloved sovereign.-

The Duke then, with the greatest prudence, appointed the
various officers whom he wished to place over his estates, and
selected magistrates for each city from amongst the wisest of
its inhabitants. He also put the private affairs of his house-
hold in order, and specially recommended his dear Elizabeth
to the care of his mother, his brothers, and his officers. "I
.know well," said the steward to hin^ "that my lady the
Duchess will give away all that she can, and reduce us to
misery." To which Louis replied "that it was equal to
him, for that God knew how to replace all that she gave
away." Louis also went to visit all the convents of Eisenach,
even those oi ? the nuns ; asked the blessings of the religious,
distributed to them abundant alms, and recommended himself
to their prayers. Then he left Eisenach, accompanied by his
wife, his children, his mother, and his brothers. He went
first to Reynhartsbrunn, the monastery he loved beyond all
others, and to which he was attached by the bonds of a spe-
cial devotion and a sweet familiarity.

After having assisted at the office, he left the choir before
the monks came out to receive the holy water, according to
custom ; the good prince placed himself beside the asperging
priest, and as each religious passed he embraced him affec-
tionately ; even the little children of the choir he raised in hip
arms and imprinted on the forehead of each a paternal kisa,
Affected by so much goodness, the religious burst into tears,
and nought was heard for some time save the smothered
sound of sobbing occasioned' by the sad thoughts of the ab
sence of their protector. The Duke yielded to his emotioni
and shed tears a dismal foreboding seemed to seize upon
him, and he said, " It is not without reason that you weep,
my dearest friends, for when I shall have gone away, rapa

j-Ht^>-^;--'Sv.!;^

216 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

cious wolves shall attack you, and with their murderous teeth
torment you cruelly. When you shall be unhappy, impov-
erished, you shall see that in me you have lost a defender
and a sovereign whose like is not frequently found. But I
am also sure that the Most High will open to you the bowels
of His mercy, and- this I beg of Him now, and for ever, with
all my heart."

Then he left them, but they followed him with hearts full
of pious affection, and eyes bathed in tears.

The Duke, still accompanied by all his family, went from
Reynhartsbrunn to Schmalkalde, where he had appointed a
meeting with all who were going to follow him to the Holy
Land. It was there he was to take leave of his relations, his
mother, his wife, and all who dwelt in his heart. As soon
as he arrived he took his brother Henry aside and said to him,
" I have done all that I could, with God ? s help, to walk in
the way of salvation for my soul, and I know of nothing that
could compromise it, if it be not, that I have not yet de-
stroyed, as my father ordered me, the castle of Eyterburg,
which was built to the prejudice of the neighbouring convent.
I beg of thee then, my gentle brother, not to forget razing it
entirely, as soon as I shall have set out : that will tend to the
salvation of thy soul."

At length the feast of St. John the Baptist, the day fixed
for the departure, arrived, and they were forced to say farewell.
It was in the midst of nobles come from the very extremities
of his dominions, and in the presence of the people who
pressed around to look for the last time on their beloved
prince, that Louis parted from all he loved.

He commenced by affectionately blessing his two brothers
vrho were both weeping; he fervently recommended to them
his mother, his. children, and his Elizabeth. His little ones
clung to his garments, embraced him weeping, and in their
Infantine language bade him farewell. He could not restraio

iii^

OF HUNGARY.

his tears when kissing them, and when he turned towards his
beloved Elizabeth, his grief and sobbing prevented him from
speaking to her. Then embracing her with one arm, and hia
mother with the other, he held them both pressed to his bo-
som without uttering a word, and kissed them repeatedly
while shedding abundant tears, for more than half an hour.

A_t length he said, " My loved mother, I must leave thee.
but tiiou hast in my place thy other two sons, Conrad and
Henry. I recommend to thee my wife whose anguish thou
seest." But neither his mother nor his wife would leave the
object of their love, each clung to his side. His brothers and
the other knights pressed round this sorrowing group. All
hearts were moved all eyes were tearful, on seeing this pious
eon, this faithful and tender husband striving to escape from
the embraces of those he loved most in this world, in order
to serve God at the peril of his life. The people mingled
their sincere, though noisy grief, with that of the princes and
warriors.

And it was not alone one family that experienced the grief
of parting; there were in the crowd of Crusaders who were
to accompany the Duke, many fathers, and husbands, and
brothers, who wept and struggled like their sovereign in sep-
arating from their families and friends. Each one seemed
to have deferred to this moment the painful trial. The Thu-
ringians, the Hessians and the Saxons were there united by
a common affection, as well as by the object of their expedi-
tion. So many ties could be broken only by a supernatural
effort. On all sides were heard groaning and sobs, confused
and whispering sounds, all commingled in the general agony.
Meanwhile several men, who were either more masters of
their hearts, or who were already far away from their friends,
or who perhaps were alone in this world, having neither fa-
mily nor social bonds to break, were at this solemn moment
governed only by the thought of the sacred character of th
10

218 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

enterprise which they were about to commence. These Cru-
saders and pilgrims, whilst the others wept and lamented,
entoned hymns- of thanksgiving to God for having deigned to
permit them to go and combat for the honour of His holy
name. The sound of these canticles mingled with the cries
of grief that were uttered on all sides, and thus were re-united
by a sublime contrast, the height of joy inspired by the love
of the Lord, and the expressions of that deep grief which this
love taught these good men to brave and conquer.

When at length the Duke could detach himself from the
arms of his mother, he was, as it were, imprisoned by his
knights who remained, and by the poor people to whom he
was justly so dear ; each wished to detain him, to embrace
him again, to take his hand or to touch his garments ; Louis
with tearful eyes looked on but could not speak. It was by
a great effort that he made way through them to the place
where his courser waited ; having mounted him he rode into
the midst of the Crusaders, and mingled his voice with theirs
in chaunting their holy hymns.

His beloved Elizabeth was still with him, for she would
not be contented to bid him farewell at the same time with his
other friends, but obtained permission to accompany him to
the frontiers of Thuringia. They rode on, side by side, with
hearts overwhelmed with sadness. No longer able to speak,
the young Duchess could but sigh. They arrived at the fron-
tier, but she had not courage sufficient to leave him, so she
made another day's journey, and then a second, led on by
grief and love. At the close of the second day she declared
that she would never leave him, but would go with him to
the end. Yet it was necessary that she should leave him,
and the divine Love, strong as death, conquered in these two
noble and tender hearts the love of the creature. The lord
de Varila came nigh to the Duke and said to him, " My lord
the time has now arrived that our noble Duchess must leave

OF HUNGAR1 219

as." At these words both burst into tears, they embraced
each other trembling with emotion, and sobbing with such
anguish that the hearts of all present were moved.

Meanwhile, the wise lord de Varila insisted on their separ*
tion; but these two souls so long and tenderly united clung
to each other with unspeakable love at this sad moment.
Louis, however, conquered his heart, mounted his horse, and
gave the signal for departure. He showed the Duchess a ring
which he always used for sealing his private letters.. " Eliza-
beth," said he, " thou dearest of sisters, look well upon
this ring that I take with me. On the sapphire is engraven
the Lamb of God with his banner ; let it be to thy eyes a
sure and certain token for all that concerns me. He who
brings thee this ring, dear and faithful sister, and tells thee
that I am still alive, or that I have died, believe all that he
shall say to thee." Then he added: " May the Lord blesa
thee, my dear little Elizabeth, beloved sister, my sweetest
treasure. May the Lord preserve thy soul and thy courage ;
may he also bless the child thou now bearest, we will do with
it what we have already agreed upon. Adieu, remember our
happy life, our fond and holy love, and forget me not in any
of thy prayers. Adieu, I can no longer stay." And he rode
away, leaving his beloved wife in the arms of her ladies ; she
followed him a long time with her eyes, then almost heart-
broken, bathed in tears, in the midst of the lamentations of
her companions, she returned to Wartburg, feeling in her
heart a sad foreboding that never again should she look upou
him. Returned to her lonely home, she laid aside her royal
robes, and with a sad presentiment, assumed the costume that
she was never again to leave off that of a widow's mourn-
ing.

" In this age," says a pious Franciscan (le Pere Archange)
who wrote the life of St. Elizabeth in the reign of Louis
XIV., " in this 'age we see so little affection between married

220 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

people, even amongst those who appear to be pious, that we
may be astonished to see in so detached a princess, so much
love for her royal spouse." We will not follow the good friar
through the defence he thought himself obliged to make for
this feature in the character of St. Elizabeth. We can say
of her what St. Bernard said of Mary, " Be not astonished,
my dear brethren, that -Mary has been styled a martyr in her
BOU] ; to be surprised at it we should forget what St. Paul
looked upon as one of the greatest faults of the Gentiles, that
they were without affection." But it is sufficient for us to say,
after the many details we have related, that of all the souls
whom the Church has crowned with glory, not one has offered
to our contemplation, in the same high degree, the model of a
wife, as did St. Elizabeth. None other realised in such perfec-
tion, our idea of a truly Christian marriage. No one so enno-
bled and sanctified human love by giving it so high a place in
a heart M inflamed with the love of God, as did this young
and noble lady.

And this union of the lawful earthly affections with tho
most profound piety was not of rare occurrence in those times
or strong and pure emotions. It would be a pleasurable and
fruitful labour, and we may undertake it one day, to demon-
strate how, during Catholic ages, the most tender and pas-
sionate feelings of the human heart were sanctified and revi-
vified by faith, and how, while bending before the cross,
purely human love derived exaltation and energy in the per-
manent victory of Christian humility over pride and selfish-
. ness. Feelings less varied, less extended, less refined, per-
haps, than at present, were then far deeper ; and when once
Religion placed upon them her immortal seal, they manifested
i wonderful strength, and experienced an unspeakable trans-
Sguration, in which were at once combined the calm of long
attachment, the freshness of innocence, all the energy of
passion with all the purity and simplicity of religiou All

ifgplg^

K'-'-''^-?"- -.~ ; ~ ; ---- v^/v- -;-.:---. /. ;.> -^ >,;-.; . . . ..

OF HUNGAKY. 221

those who are acquainted with the historical and literary
works of the middle ages, will appreciate the truth of this
assertion.

Another characteristic feature of the moral and interior
life of these times is the inseparable union of the most ardent
affections with their legitimate consecration ; thus duty and
religious. obligation became essential elements of the passion^
ate emotions of the heart. In this, as in many other respects,
Elizabeth was an admirable and complete personification of
the period at which she lived.

That was also the age in which St. Louis cherished
throughout his whole life, for his wife Margaret, the truthful
and fervent tenderness of his early years. This great saint
and great king showing the ring he always wore, whereon he
had engraven these wordn, GOD, FRANCE, AND MARGUEKITE,
said with such exquisite simplicity, " Hors cet and n'ai point
d? amour? " Beyond this ring no love have /." In this cen-
tury, too, Edward I. of England erected the thirteen admirable
crosses, whose remains are to this day reckoned amongst the
wonders of Christian art ; each one of these was reared upon
the spot where the bier of his beloved wife, Queen Eleanor,
was rested during the procession of her remains from Gran-
tham, where she died, to Westminster.

This was without doubt the most magnificent funeral
pomp ever celebrated ; but was it too great for the woman
who, twenty years before, went to share with her husband the
dangers of the Crusades, who, with her own lips, imbibed
the poison from the wound that a Saracen arrow inflicted
npon Edward, and who had thus saved his life at the peril of,
her own ? But a very remarkable circumstance, and one
which we believe has not been properly appreciated up to this
tune, is, that this union is consecrated by fiction as well as
by truth, and the creations of imagination render to ii ai
brilliant an homage as do the monuments of history.

222 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

All the poetry of this period, as well as previous to Eliz
beth's age, breathes the same spirit. It was not until aftel
this time that any interest would be felt in the recital of the
story cf an unlawful love, or even one not consecrated by the
Church. Marriage, or at least betrothal, should have token
place before Catholic souls would listen to the history of two
hearts as -related by the poets ; love and interest,-far from
concluding with marriage, as in modern novels, seemed bu ;
to find in it their beginning. Conjugal fidelity was in a
manner the inspiring principle of this beautiful poesy.

The most animated and romantic scenes are those in which
some married couples figure and this was not alone the case
in the legends and the poems specially dedicated to reli-
gious purposes, but even the works apparently chivalrous
and profane, bear the same stamp of the consecration of sen-
timent by duty. It is of woman as a faithful and pious
wife that these poets trace the portrait in verses where she
is pictured as almost divine, and seems to share in the tender
veneration they paid to MART. In our national literature,
the touching and pure loves of Roland and his betrothed
Aude, in the romance of Roncevaux ; the admirable history
of the misfortunes endured by Gerard de Roussillon, and his
wife, suffice to give us an idea of what our own poets have
been able to deduce from these most Christian writings.

In Germany, the adopted country of our Elizabeth, this
style was even more general and more loved than elsewhere.
We find the brightest and most popular examples in the
JTiebelungen, in Sigefroid and Chriemhilde, those souls so full
of simplicity, truth, and devotion. This star of pure love
which irradiates the most beautiful historical traditions, sucb
as those of Henry the Lion, of Florentia, Genevieve of
Brabant, Count TJlric, &c., is always the brilliant source of
inspiration of the grandest poems of the days of chivalry.

Parseval is so enraptured at the sight of three drops of

fyt

OF HUNGARY 1 . 223

bltrod upon the snow, which reminds him of his wife's
beauteous complexion, that he despises glory and the combat
in order to contemplate them.

The wife of Lohengrin, whenever her husband left her,
swooned away, and remained insensible until his return. In
the Titurel we read that when a faithful husband and wife
are re-united in death, from their common tomb spring forth
two vines which intertwine with and sustain each other.
'Sweet and noble symbols of those holy affections implanted
from Above, that give to the earth such lovely flowers, bnt
the fruits and rewards of which are to be found only io
heaven.

224 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH

CHAPTER XYI.

HOW DUKE LOUIS DIED ON HIS WAT TO THE J jLY LAND.

"Oonsummatua in brevi esplevit tetnpora multa: plaeita er an erat Deo
EHus : propter hoc properavit educere ilium de medio iniquithtum." Sap. iv. 18, M.

Louis, after losing sight of his dear and sorrowing Eliza-
beth, soon regained the joyous and trustful energy which
always distinguished the true knights engaged in those distant
expeditions, and the holy cheerfulness that faith confers in the
idea of the sacrifices made by, and the victories gained over,
mere human feelings.

He brought with him the choicest chivalry of his domi-
nions ; five counts, Louis de Wartberg, Giinther de Kefern-
burg, Meinhard de Muhlberg, Henry de Stolberg, and Burk-
hard de Brandeiiberg ; his cup-bearer, Rodolphe, Lord de
Yarila ; his marshal, Henry, Lord of Ebersberg ; his cham.
beiiain, Henry, Lord of Fahnern his seneschal, Hermann de
Hosheim, and a crowd of other barons and knights. The
number of infantry that followed was small, owing to the
great distance they. had to travel. Five priests, amongst
whom was the Almoner Berthold, who wrote the life of
Louis, had the care of saying masses, hearing confessions,
and affording all spiritual consolations to these warriors during
the expedition.

Besides the counts and lords who were his own vassals,
Louis was accompanied by all the knights of Swabia, of
Franconia, and from the banks of the Rhine, in his .quality
as commander-in-chief of the Crusaders of central Germany.
We remark amongst them the name of Count Louis de Glei-
chen, so renowned throughout Germany for his romantio

OF HUNGARY. . 225

adventures during this Crusade. A tradition, supported by
learned authorities relates, that having been taken prisoner
in Palestine, and carried into Egypt, he was liberated by
Melechsala, daughter of the soldan, on condition that ha
hould marry her, though lie bad left his wife (born Countess
d'Orlamunde) in Thuringia ; agreeable to his promise ha
brought his fair deliverer to his castle of Gleichen, where the
two wives lived in the ipost perfect union, and on his tomb,
in Erfurth Cathedral, he is sculptured in a recumbent posture
between them.

Provided with so good an army, the Duke traversed Fraii-
conia, Swabia, and Bavaria, crossed the Tyrolean Alps, and,
passing through Lombardy, and Tuscany, went to join the
Emperor at Apulia. This meeting took place at the city of
Troja, about the end of August, 1227. The Emperor had
assembled an immense force. Sixty thousand men were there
encamped under the banner of the cross ; but an epidemic
had already broken out amongst them, and delayed their
embarkation. However, all was prepared ; the Landgrave
held a secret conference with the Emperor to arrange in detail
the plan of the expedition : for, notwithstanding his youth,
no prince inspired with more confidence, both sovereign and
people, than did Duke Louis. Immediately after this confer-
ence the two princes embarked at Brindisi, after having pre-
viously recommended to God their voyage, by solemn prayers,
but no sooner did Louis set foot in the vessel than he felt
himself seized with trembling and fever.

After three days,, the Emperor, being no longer able to
endure the sea, landed at Otranto, where the Empress was.
The Duke went with him, in order to pay a visit to the
Empress with the usual ceremony, though a greal; number of
his followers had continued their journey to Palestine. Mean-
while, Louis felt that his fever increased in violence, and it
10*

226 1IFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

was with difficulty lie regained his ship, where he was imme-
diately obliged to confine himself to bed. The sickness made
rapid progress, and all hope of recovery was soon abandoned.
The Duke was the first who was aware of his danger ; ha
made his will, and sent for the Patriarch of Jerusalem to bring
him the last sacrament. This prelate came, accompanied by
the Bishop of Santa Croce, and administered to him Extreme
Unction.

After having confessed his sins with humility and great
contrition, his knights assembled around his bed, and he
received in their presence the " Bread of the Strong," with
the most fervent devotion and an expression of the liveliest
faith.

W<5 do not find, either in the narrative of his almoner,
who was present at his last moments, nor in any of the his-
tories afterwards written, a single word that would lead us
to believe that this holy and worthy knight felt the least
regret on quitting this life. Neither his youth, in the flower
of which he was carried to the tomb nor his country, far
from which he died nor the power he nobly and so justly
used nor his kinsfolk, nor his little children, whom he had
yet scarcely time to know, nor even Elizabeth, whom he had
so faithfully and tenderly loved, and loved only none of these
blessings seem to have chained to the earth, even for a mo-
ment, this soul so eager for heaven.

On the contrary, we learn that he was anxious to die, and
the happiness of expiring under the banner of Christ, as it
were, even in His service, after having sacrificed all for this,
governed him exclusively, and left no place in his heart for
any earthly remembrance or regret. As he had lived but for
God, and % in God, it seemed to him quite easy to die at the
moment God willed it, and at the post assigned to him.
Like a faithful soldier, he received unmnrmuringly the signal
which recalled him before the close of the fight.

OF HUNGARY. 227

He who Lad shed so many tears when leaving for a little
time his beloved family he who had torn himself with such
bitter anguish from the wife whom he hoped soon to see
again, had not for them, at this moment of complete and
irreparable separation, a sigh or a tear. Truly he was right
to mourn and weep when going far from her on earth, but at
Heaven's gate this dear image could only be present to his
mind as je-united and rejoicing with him in the future bliss
of a glorious eternity.

He charged some of the knights to go and announce his
death to his family, and to his dear Elizabeth, by bringing
to her the ring he had shown her when parting, and which,
as then agreed upon between them, was to be to her the
token of all that concerned him. Then he requested all his
men, in the names of God and our Lady, to remember him
if they survived the dangers of their holy undertaking to
bring back his remains to Thuringia, to inter them at Reyn-
hartsbrunn, where he had chosen his burial place, and also
never to forget him in their prayers. Some time before he
expired, Louis saw a number of doves flying into the room,
and fluttering around his bed. " Look, look," said he,
" upon these snow-white doves !" The bystanders thought
he was delirious, but in a moment after he said, " I must fly
away with those beauteous doves." In saying these words
he slumbered in the Lord, quitted, this mortal pilgrimage to
enter the eternal country, there to take his place amongst the
heavenly host, on the third day after the feast of the nativity
of the Blessed Yirgin, (llth Sept. 1227,) having just at-
tained his twenty-seventh year.

As soon as he had breathed his last sigh, his almoner
Berthold saw the doves of which he had spoken flying towards
the east ; he looked after them for a long time, and felt not
surprised that the Holy Spirit who had descended on the Son
f God in the form of a dove, should have sent angels in this

228 LIFE OF ST ELIZABE1H,

fair shape to conduct before the Sun of eternal justice this
.young soul, which through its earthly pilgrimage had pre-
served its pure and dove-like innocence. To his face already
BO fair, death added new beauty, and the attendants could
not too much admire the expression imprinted on his pale
features of firm faith, sweet peace, ineffable joy, with the deep
and pure placidity of death.

It was a bitter grief for those who had followed Louis so
far, to see him die in all the prime of youth and valour, and
to find themselves without a chief in this hazardous expedi-
tion. It was still more sad for those who had preceded him.
who had not the mournful happiness of watching through his
last moments, or of receiving his death sigh ; to these faith-
ful men was announced on the high sea, the loss they had
Buffered.

The air resounded with their lamentations. " Alas ! dear
lord," cried they, " alas ! good knight, why have you left us
exiles in the country of the stranger ? How have we lost
you ! you the light of our eyes, the leader of our pilgrimage,
the hope of our after years ! Woe, woe has fallen on us."

The messengers returned, and in union with those who had
remained on shore, they made a solemn oath to execute the
last wishes of their beloved prince, in case they themselves
escaped from the perils of the crusade. Meanwhile they
solemnly celebrated his obsequies, an' I carefully burLd his
body at Otranto. Then they resumed their journey ik order
to accomplish their vow.

OF HUNGARY t29

CHAPTER XVII.

BOW THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH HEARD OF THE DEATH OF HEB
HUSBAND, AND OP HER GREAT AGONY AND TRIBULATION.

"Quo mihi avulans es? quo mihi raptns e manibus, homo unanimis. homo
eciindum cor meum? amavimus nos in vita: quoin odo in morte snmus separati?

Omnino opus mortis, horrendum divortium. Quis enim tarn snavi vinculo

mutui nostri non pepercissot amoris, nisi totius suavitatis inimica more?" St.
Bernard in Cant. Serm. 26.

"Flebat igitur irremediabilibus laerymis." Tab. x. 4.

THE nobles whom Duke Louis had commanded at his last
moments to go and announce his death in Thuringia, had a
long and difficult journey to accomplish ; and the nature of
the fatal news they had to carry did not tend to accelerate
their speed.

The young Duchess, during the interval that .had elapsed
since the sad event, had given birth to her fourth child, Grer-
trude, and could not see the messengers when they arrived.
It was then to the Duchess-mother, and to the young princes
Conrad and Henry, that they spoke of the bitter affliction by
which they had been stricken. In the midst of the consterna-
tion which this news spread through the family and people o,
the illustrious dead, pious and prudent men were occupied in
preventing the effect it would have, if known, on the young
mother, a widow, without being aware of her bereavement.
Even Sophia's heart became maternal in its feelings towards
her whom her son had so dearly loved. She gave the most
Strict orders that no ore should give her daughter-in-law reason
to suspect her misfortune, and took all necessary precautions
to have these directions faithfully attended to.

St. i. v \i

230 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

But the appointed time had elapsed since Elizabeth's re-
eo very, and it was deemed fit to inform this fond and faithful
vife of the grief God had willed her to endure, and it was the
Duchess Sophia who was charged with this painful duty;.
Accompanied by several noble and discreet ladies she went to
aer daughter-in-law's apartment. Elizabeth received them
with respect and affection, and made them all sit around the
couch whereon she was reposing, without being at all aware
of the object of their visit. When they had taken their places,
the Duchess Sophia said to her : "Take courage, my beloved
child, and be not troubled by what has happened to your
husband, my son, by God's will, for to that, you know, he was
entirely devoted." Elizabeth seeing how calm the Duchess
was, for she had spoken without weeping, had no idea of the
extent of her misfortune, and imagining that her husband had
been taken prisoner, she replied, "If my brother is in cap-
tivity, with the help of God and my friends he will soon be
ransomed. My father will come to our assistance, and in a
little time we shall be consoled." But the Duchess Sophia
resumed, " my beloved child, be patient, and take 'this ring,
for to our grief he is dead." " Ah mother ! what do you
say ?" cried out the young Duchess. " He is dead," replied
Sophia. At these words Elizabeth became pale and red by
turns, and passionately clasping her hands, she said in a voice
almost suppressed by strong emotion, " Lord my God,
my God, now indeed is the whole world dead to me, the world
and all it contains of happiness !" Then rising she began to
run distractedly through all the corridors and passages of the
castle, crying out, " He is dead ! He is dead 1" In the
refectory she was found holding by the wall, weeping bit-
terly. The Duchess Sophia, and the other ladies who fol-
lowed, detached her from this position, made her sit down,
and used every effort to console her. She still wept, and hei
words were interrupted by continued sobbing. "Now," said

fjlp^:llpffc^>^^

OF HUNGARY. 231

she, " I have lost all ! Oil my beloved brother ! Oh friend
of my heart, my good and pious husband, how shall I live
without thee ! Thou art dead, and I am left in misery.
Poor desolate widow, unhappy woman that I am ! May He
who forgets not. the widow and the orphan console me ! Oh !
my God, comfort me ! Oh good Jesus, strengthen me in my
weakness !" Her ladies endeavoured to reconduct her to her
chamber ; she yielded with tottering steps, and when she en-
tered it she fell on her face on the floor. They raised her and
ehe renewed her lamentations. .

The Duchess Sophia also gave vent to her maternal grief,
ard mingled her sorrow with Elizabeth's, as did also the
n^ble matrons and maidens in attendance. Folio wing their
example, all the members of the Ducal household, all the in-
habitants of that Wartburg where Louis had spent almost the
entire of his short life, indulged their grief, which they until
then had suppressed, on account of the critical state of the
young widow. The sight too of her unutterable anguish add-
ed still more to the impression produced by the irreparable losa
of their beloved sovereign. Throughout the neighbourhood for
eight days, nought was heard save sighs, and groans, and loud
lamentations.

But neither this general sympathy, nor any other solace,
could calm the affliction of Elizabeth ; in vain she sought a
remedy in her despair. " Nevertheless," says her pious his-
torian, " there was always near, her an Omnipotent Consoler,
the Holy Spirit, the Father of widows and orphans, the hope
of the broken-hearted, who apportioned His trials to her
strength, and who replenished her with His graces in filling
np the measure of her affliction."

And let us now look upon this dear saint, whom we be-
held, in her truly Christian union, endowed with the greatest
happiness of this life, a widow at the age of twenty years;
the loving and beloved wife condemned henceforth to endure

S32 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

the painful trial of the solitude of the heart. It was not
sufficient for the Divine Saviour of her soul to have her
initiated into the troubles of life, and exposed to the calum-
nies and persecutions of the wicked she had preserved invio-
late her tender confidence in Him. It was not enough to
have tempted her by the display of royal grandeur, by the
flattering homage of a brilliant chivalry, by the joyful. and
pure felicity of her wedded life. In the midst of all this
happiness she had ever given the first place, in the secret of
her heart, to the thought 0f heaven in her outward life, to
the relief of her poor and suffering brethren. Yet all this
was not sufficient to accomplish the designs of Divine Love ;
it was necessary that before entering into the possession of
celestial joys she who had relieved so much misery should
become in her turn the most wretched and most neglected of
creatures ; before beholding the eternal treasures she was
;ondemned to die a thousand times daily to the world, and
all the goods of this life. Henceforth, until the last hour of
her mortal existence, ceaseless storms" assail this frail plant ;
but by a favour, wonderful to worldlings, but easily intelli-
gible to the friends of God, far from weakening or bending
feebly to the earth, we behold her rising, and, as it were,
budding forth on every side to receive the dews of heaven,
and flowering with matchless splendour.

If the loss of so loving a husband, and the severing of
their holy union, did for a space plunge this predestined heart
into an abyss of despair, new and bitter trials were sent
to restore to it all its strength, its calm, and its invincible
ardour.

If Elizabeth yielded for a moment, wounded by the loss of
her earthly love, soon did she rise again to attach her heart
to the throne of the Most High, by a chain of love divine,
which "nothing could destroy.

|l||||g|p^ ^^I

OF HUNG ART 233

According as she approached the end of her career, the
exaltation of victory restored to her in some measure the
tranquil courage that sustained her under her former sorrows,
She was fortified by the presentiment and the hope of
triumph.

{34 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH.

CHAPTER XTIII

OW THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH WAS DRIVEN OUT OP HER CASTLt
WITH HER LITTLE CHILDREN, AND REDUCED TO EXTREME
MISERY, AND OF TH3 GREAT INGRATITUDE OP MEN TOWARDS
HER.

" Paupercula, template convulsa, absque ulla consolatione."

Isaias, Book II.
"Egentes, augustlati, afflict!, quibus dignus non erat mundas."

Hebrew^ xi. 87, 83.

IN commencing the second part of Elizabeth's life with her
twentieth year, we cannot refrain from warning the small
number of readers who have followed us so far, that hence-
forth they will no longer find the purely human attractions
and romantic interests of the preceding pages. It is no longer
the young and loving wife, striving to mingle in her sonl the
worship of her heavenly Father with the most beautiful
affections of the heart, that we present to them, but the peni-
tent devoted to all the rigours of the ascetic life, walking out
of the beaten track open to the piety of the faithful in general
-Uprooting from her soul, and extinguishing in her heart,
all that prevented God from having full possession of her entire
being.

Elizabeth shall now be the model of a Christian widow in
the highest perfection o that character, daily more and more
denuded of self, and arrived at length at a degrge of self-
abnegation and spiritual mortification, equally repugnant to
human reason and the human heart, and requiring unmingled
strength of faith to understand and appreciate virtues almost
superhuman.

The sympathy by which we saw the young widow so lately

wpj^iifi^j^M^^

OP HUNGARY. 235

ihrroaitded, was neither long continued nor efficacious. In a
very short time persecution and ingratitude added their bit
terness to the sorrow that already filled her. heart. While
abandoned to her grief, she remembered not that the govern-
ment of the country had devolved upon her since the death
of her husband, owing to the minority of her son; and m&ny
of her former enemies profited of the occasion to overwhelm
her who had been stricken by the Most High, and to envenom
the wound that God had inflicted.

Duke Louis had, as we have before mentioned, two bro-
thers, Henry and Conrad ; these young princes were sur-
rounded by men, strangers to every feeling of justice and
honour. These iniquitous counsellors strove to bias the
Landgrave Henry, surnamed RaspOn, and to engage him,
under pretence of seeking his own interest, in a base conspi-
racy against his pious sister-in-law. They represented to
him that according to an ancient law of the country of Thu-
ringia, the principality should remain undivided in the care of
the eldest prince of the royal family, who alone might marry;
if the younger members wished to take wives, the most -they
could obtain, as appanages, would be some estates ; they
would be obliged to descend from their rank as counts, and
always to remain vassals to their elder brother; that conse-
quently it was of the highest importance for him (Henry) to
establish himself as the head of the family, to seize upon the
sovereign authority, to put away the young Hermann, son of
Duke Louis, and to get married, in order that the dominions
might remain with his descendants. They dared not, it seems,
advise him to put the rightful >-nr to death, but they insisted
that he should expel his brother's widow, with her children,
including the little Hermar^n, not only from the royal resi-
dence of Wartbourg, but also from Eisenach, and from all
the Ducal possessions. " If, by chance," added they, " this
child lives, he will, on arriving at manhood, be even too

236 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

happy to receive one or two castles for his portion." In she
mean time they thought it well to put him out of sight, and
for this it became necessary to dispossess his mother, whom
they called " the prodigal and bigoted Elizabeth."

Henry had the misfortune to allow himself to be seduced
by these wicked counsels. " Justice and honour," says an
old poet, " fled from his heart, and he declared war against
the widow and the orphans he had sworn to protect." His
young brother Conrad also allowed himself to be won over tc
join him; and strong with their double consent, the wicked
courtiers hastened to the Duchess Elizabeth, to signify to her
the will of their new master. They found her with her
mother-in-law, the Duchess Sophia, with whom ' a common
grief had more closely united her. These brutal men heaped
upon her innumerable insults they reproached her with
having ruined the country, wasted and exhausted the state
treasury, deceived and dishonoured her husband, and an-
nounced to her that for .punishment of her crimes she was
deprived of all her possessions, and that Duke Henry, who
was henceforth to be the sovereign, had commanded her to
quit the castle immediately.

Elizabeth, astonished at these insults, and at this message,
humbly asked these relentless enemies to grant her at lea:; I
some longer time for preparation. The Duchess Sophia,
irritated by the conduct of these men, took her daughter-in-
law in her arms, and cried out, " She shall remain with me,
and no one shall dare to take her from me. Where are my
sons? I wish to speak to them." But the messengers replied,
"No, she must leave this place at once," and they began to
separate forcibly the two princesses.

Seeing that all resistance was vain, the Duchess Sophia
wished at least to accompany the sorrowful Elizabeth to the
outer gate of the castle. The wicked ones in power refused
the deposed sovereign permission to take any property away

yjff&iim&ii^^

OF HUNGARY. 23?

with her; but she found in the court-yard her little children,
and two of her maids of honour, who were expelled at the
same time, and to whom we owe the recital of this sad
scene. When they arrived at the castle gate, Sophia again
embraced Elizabeth, and wept bitterly at the idea of parting
with her.

The sight of the children of the beloved son she had lost,
of these orphans condemned to share the fate of their guilt-
less mother, redoubled the affliction and indignation of the
Duchess Sophia. She again requested most earnestly to see
her sons Henry and Conrad, feeling persuaded that they
could not resist her supplications. But the base courtiers
told her they were not there ; and indeed they had concealed
themselves whilst their cruel orders were being executed,
for they were both afraid and ashamed to witness the
prayers and tears of their mother, a.'d the 'sad spectacle
of the anguish of Elizabeth, whom they had so foully
wronged.

After having for a long time mingled her tears with those
of her daughter-in-law, whom she still held clasped to her
bosom, " Sophia, in whose soul," says the narrator, " the
grief for the death of her son was renewed and augmented
by the thought of the wickedness of the children who were
spared to her, was, though suffering intense sorrow, obliged
to cart with Elizabeth."

The gates of the castle where the young Duchess had
rt'igued so many years were closed behind her. In that
court -yard, where the flower of n^ble knighthood had assem
bled before setting out for *lie tomb of Christ, there was
not found one to fulfil the first duty of chivalry, and tc offer
an asylum or succour to the widow and the orphans. This
aaughter of a royal race descended on foot and weeping by
the rugged and narrow pathway that led to the city. She
herself carried her new-born infant, the other three children

238 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

followed with her two faithful companions. It was mid-wiuter
and the cold was very severe.

Arrived at the foot of the mountain, and having entered
the city of Eisenach, which she had, as it were, inundated with
the everfiowing stream of her charity, a new and painful
trial awaited her. Duke Henry had caused a proclamation
to be made in the city, that whoever would receive the
Duchess Elizabeth or her children should thereby incur hia
displeasure ; and with an ingratitude far more revolting tiian
the cowardly baseness of the order, all the inhabitants of
Eisenach obeyed it-: perhaps also, the remembrance of bene-
fits received, which weighs so heavily on vulgar souls, Bad
extinguished in them all feelings of humanity, pity, and
justice. In vain did the unhappy princess go, always sur-
rounded by her little ones, weeping and knocking at every
door, even to the he ases of those who had formerly testified
the greatest attachment to her, but nowhere was she ad-
mitted.

At length she came to a miserable tavern, whence the
owner neither could nor would send her . .way, for she declared
that his house was open to every one, and that she would
remain there. " They have taken from me all that I had,"
said she weeping, " now I can but pray to God 1" The inn-
keeper assigned as a resting-place during the night, for her-
self, her children, and her maidens, a miserable out-house,
wherein he kept his kitchen utensils, and where also he
lodged his swine. These he drove out to give their place to
the Duchess of Thuringia, the royal princess of Hungary.
But as if this lowest depth of humiliation had suddenly
restored peace to her soul, no sooner did she enter this tin*
clean spot, than her tears were dried up, and supernatural joy
descended upon and penetrated her whole soul. She remained
in this state until midnight, when at that hour she heard
the bell ringing for matins at the Franciscan convent thai

OF HUNGARY. 239

site had founded during her husband's lifetime. She imme-
diately arose, and went to their church, and after having
assisted at the office, she begged of them to chaunt the T
Deum, in thanksgiving to God for the tribulations he had
.sent her.

Her ardent piety, her absolute submission to the Divine
will, the holy joy of her soiil which her heavenly Father had
deigned to try by suffering, her old love for evangelical pov-
erty, resumed again their sway, never more to lose it. Pros-
trate at the foot of the Altar, during the darkness of that sad
night, while the song of triumph, so incomprehensible to the
world, ascended to heaven, she edified her faithful followers
by the fervour and humility of the aspirations of her soul to
God.

Aloud she thanked Him that she was poor and despoiled
of all as he was at the crib of Bethlehem. " Lord," said
she, " may your will be done ! Yesterday I was a Duchess
with strong castles and rich domains ; to-day I am a mendi-
cant, and no one would give me an asylum. Lord ! if I had
.better served you when I was a Sovereign, if I had given
more abundant alms, I would 'now rejoice at it unhappily it
has not been so."

But soon again the sight of her poor children weeping
from cold and hunger, renewed the anguish of her heart. " I
have merited this," said she, with great humility, " I have
deserved to see them suffer thus, and I repent sincerely. My
children are born of royal race, and behold them hungry, and
without even a bed to lie on. My heart is pierced with sor-
row on their account ; as for me, my God, you know that J
am unworthy to .be raised by you to the state of holy pov-
erty." Elizabeth remained sitting in this Church during
the remainder of that night and part of the next day, until
the intensity of cold and t l ie pangs of hunger endured by her
children obliged her to go out again and to beg for some food

; ' s vV w-v. ^--r--MT^---?>:-?y-.3K s "^^^^

240 LIFK OF ST. ELIZABETH,

a'nd a lodging. She wandered a long time in vain through
this town where so many persons had been supported, cared
for, cured and enriched by her ; at length a priest, very poor
himself, had pity on the holy and royal sufferer, and braving
the wrath of the Landgrave Henry, he offered his humble
dwelling to the widow and children of his deceased sovereign.

Elizabeth accepted his charitable kindness with gratitude,
and he prepared fo/r his guests beds of straw, and entertained
them as well as his great poverty permitted ; but to obtain
sufficient nourishment for her children, Elizabeth was obliged
to pledge whatever articles of value were on her person at
the moment of her expulsion from Wartburg.

However, as soon as her persecutors learned that she had
found a roof to shelter her, they sent her an order to go and
lodge with a lord of the court, one of her bitterest enemies,
who possessed in the town of Eisenach a very large mansion.
Yet this unworthy man reluctantly assigned to her a narrow
chamber, where he shut her up with her family, treated he?
with the utmost rudeness, and refused all food and fuel ; his
wife and servants imitated his base example. Elizabeth
passed the night in this prison, still in anguish at the sight of
her poor children, almost perishing with cold and in danger
of starvation.

The next morning she resolved to remain no longer under
this inhospitable roof, and on going away she said, " O walls !
I thank you for having during the past night protected me
against the wind and rain. I would also from my heart
thank your master, but in truth I know not for what."

She sought again the miserable dwelling wherein she had
remained during the first night of her sorrows ; it was the
only one her enemies did not envy her. She spent the greater
part of the days, and even of the nights, in the Churches.
" Prom these at least no one can drive me," she would say,
"for these are God's holy dwellings, and He alone is mj

OF HUNGARY. 241

Host," But the misery to which she was reduced brought
Btill another trial, and one far more grievous to her heart
than any she had yet endured; she who had gathered together
and lavished on so many poor foundlings and orphans the
treasures of her mercy with more than a mother's tenderness,
now found herself obliged to separate from her own loved
children ; and in order that they should not have to suffer
with her in their early age the woes of poverty, she was
obliged to deprive herself of her only remaining consolation.
Some friendly persons, whose names have not been preserved
by history, having heard of the state to which she was reduced,
offered to take charge of her little ones,, and she was obliged
to consent to their removal, as it was impossible for her to
provide them with sufficient sustenance.

But above all, says a contemporary historian, what made
her decide on this separation, was the fear of being induced
to sin against the love of God when considering the sufferings
of these beings so ardently loved by her, for, said he, she loved
her children to excess. They were then taken away and con-
cealed separately in distant places. Assured of their safety,
she became most resigned to her own fate. Having pledged
any valuable article she possessed, she strove t? earn a liveli-
hood by spinning. Though fallen into such utter destitution,
she could not forget her custom of helping the unhappy, so
she retrenched some portion from her meagre repasts in order
to have some tittle alms to give to the poor people whom
she met.

So heroic a patience, such unalterable sweetness, seem to
have calmed the fury of her powerful persecutors, but did
not suffice to restore pity or gratitude to the inhabitants of
Eisenach. We have not been able to discover a single trait
of compassion or sympathy on their part, amongst the many
narratives that remain of these interesting- ciioumstances. They
appear on the contrary but to demonstrate how true it is that
11

LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

ingratitude, like all the vile passions of the human soul, can
silence remorse and stifle the remembrance of benefits received,
only by adding to the first ill returns new excesses of base-
ness, There was, amongst others at this time, in Eisenach,
an old beggar woman who suffered from many grievous ma-
ladies, and who had been for a long time the object of the
tenderest and most minute care, and a recipient of the boun-
teous liberality of the Duchess, who was at this time almost
reduced to mendicancy. One day as Elizabeth was crossing
a muddy stream that still runs through one of the streets of
Eisenach, and in which some stones were placed to enable
persons to get over, she met this same old woman, who would
not only not make way for her, but advanced at the same
time upon the stepping-stones, and rudely pushed the young
and feeble woman, and threw her at full length into the muddy
water. Then adding derision to this base ingratitude, the
old wretch cried out, "There thou liest; whilst thou wert
Duchess thou wouldst not live as one; now thou art poor
and lying in the mud, from which I will not strive to lift
thee:"

Elizabeth, always patient and gentle, arose as well as she
could, and began to laugh at her own. fall. " This is for the
gold and precious stones I wore long ago," said she; and then,
says her historian* she went full of holy resignation and pure
joy to wash her soiled robes in a well hard by, and to bathe
her patient soul in the blood of the Lamb. Arrived at this
part of his narrative, a pious and kind religious whom wo
have before quoted, cries out, " Oh my poor dear St. Eliza*
beth, I suffer even more from thy misery than thou didst; I
am far more indignant and inflamed with a just wrath against
these ungrateful and pitiless persons than thou wert. Oh,
if I had been present, how I would have welcomed thee, thee
and thine, from my heart ! With what love would I have

OF HUNG ART. S43

cart>d for thee and provided for all thy wants 1 Let at least
my good will be agreeable to thee, and when the dreadful day
comes when I shall appear alone and abandoned by the world
before God, deign to come and meet me, and to welcome me
to the eternal

244 LI7E Or ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER XIX.

HOW THE ALL-MERCIFUL JESUS CONSOLED THE DEAK ST. ELIZABETH IH

HER LONELINESS AND MISERY, AND HOW THE SWEET AND MOSI
CLEMENT VIRGIN MARY CAME TO INSTRUCT AND FORTIFY HER.

"Ego, ego ipse consolabor vos." Is. li 12.

" Et absterget Dens omnem lacrymam ab oculis eornm."

Apocal. vii. 17.

IN the midst of so many tribulations, Elizabeth never for
a moment forgot that they proceeded from the hand of Grod.
Never did a murmur or complaint arise in her heart. On the
contrary, she devoted herself to prayer and to all the pious
practices which the Church in her maternal generosity offera
to afflicted souls ; she incessantly sought the Lord, and he did
not disappoint her. He visited her soul with a father's* ten-
derness, and rendered the trials she had so willingly accepted
the sources of ineffable consolations. He who has promised
to his elect that He would wipe away the tears from their
eyes, could not forget his humble servant prostrate before
Him enduring all the sadness that could overwhelm a human
being. Not only did He dry up her tears, but He unsealed
her eyes and permitted her to enjoy a foresight of the eternal
glory iu which her place was already marked out.

Whilst she prayed night and day at the foot of the Altar,
blessed visions and frequent revelations of celestial beauty and
mercy came to strengthen and refresh her spirit. Ysentrude,
the best beloved of her maids of honour, who never left her,
and who willingly endured poverty for her sake, after having
shared in her grandeur, related to the ecclesiastical judges all
the remembrances she had preserved of these wonderful con-

jlljjlj^^

OF HUNGARY. 245

eolations. She often remarked that her mistress fell into a
sort of ecstasy for which she could not at first account. On*
day in particular, during the Lent, the Duchess went to Mass,
and was kneeling in the Church ; suddenly she leant against
the wall, and remained for a long time absorbed in deep con-
templation, and apparently elevated above the actual life, her
eyes immoveably fixed on the Altar until after the Commu-
nion. When she came to herself her face wore an expression
of extreme happiness. Ysentrude, who had carefully watched
all her movements, profited of the first opportunity to. request
her to reveal the vision she undoubtedly had. Elizabeth,
quite joyful, replied to her, " I have no right to relate to men
what God has deigned to reveal to me, but I will not conceal
from thee that my spirit has been replenished with wonderful
consolation, and that the Lord has permitted me to see with
the eyes of my soul His admirable secrets."

After the last blessing she returned to her miserable dwell-
ing, where she took a very slight refection, and feeling herself
quite overcome with weakness and weariness,, she lay down
upon a bench near a window, and rested her head upon the
bosom of her dear and faithful Ysentrude, who thought that
the Duchess was ill, and that she. wished to sleep; but though
lying thus, she kept her eyes open, and fixedly regarded the
heavens. Yery soon Ysentrude saw her face becoming ani-
mated; a celestial serenity, an unspeakable joy beamed upon
it, and she smiled most sweetly and tenderly. But in a
little time after her eyes closed, and she wept bitterly; again
they opened, and the joyous smile re-appeared, but only to
give way again to floods of tears, and thus she remained
until the hour of Complin, alternately in gladness and grief,
but the former feeling predominating, her head still reposing
on the bosom of her friend. Towards the close of this silent
ecstasy, she cried out with extreme tenderness, " yes,
Lord, if Thou wilt be with me, I will be with Thee, ana

246 LIFE OP ST. ELIZABETH,

will never leave Thee." A moment after she recovered con*
Bciousness, and Yseutrude begged of her to tell why she had
thus by turns smiled and wept, and to explain to her the
neaning of the words she had uttered. Elizabeth, always
profoundly humble, would fain keep silence as to the graces
ho had received from God, but, yielding to the pray era
of her who had loved her so long, and served her so devotedly,
she said, " I have seen the heavens opened, and our Lord,
the all merciful Jesus, has deigned to humble Himself so far
as to appear to me, and to console me for the many tribula-
tions I have suffered. He spoke to me with extreme gentle-
ness; He called me His sister and His friend; He showed
unto me His dearest mother Mary, and His beloved apostle
"St. John, who was with Him. At the sight of my Divine
Saviour I was overjoyed ; sometimes He turned as if to go
away, and then I wept because I was not worthy to see Him
for a longer time. But He, having had pity on me, showed
me again his radiant countenance, and said, " Elizabeth, if
thou wi-lt be with Me, I will remain willingly with thee, and
will never be separated from th&e," and I immediately replied,
" Yes, yes, Lord, I am willing to remain with Thee, and
never to be separated from Thee neither in happiness nor in
misery."

And thenceforward these divine words became engraven
in her heart, and illumined it with celestial light. In this
sacred compact and affectionate union with Jesus the God of
Peace, the Father of the poor and the unhappy, she saw, as it
were, the end of her widowhood, and a new and indissoluble
lliance with an immortal Spouse. And this was not the only
time that this Divine Spouse manifested to her in a sensible
manner his tender and watchful care.

One day she had been the victim of her persecutors by
Buffering some insult, the nature of which is unknown to us,
but it was one so flagrant that her soul, usually so patient^

vfiijjpijlSvjj^^

OF HUNGARY. 241

Was quite disturbed by it, and she sought for comfort in
prayer. Bathed in tears, she begged of the Lord to confer
on her enemies a blessing for every injury they had inflicted
on her.

As she was beginning to lose her strength from praying so
long in this manner, she heard a voice saying to her, " Never
didst thou offer me any prayers more agreeable than these ;
they have penetrated to my heart, and for them I forgive
thee all the sins thou didst ever commit in thy life." And
then she heard the enumeration of all her sins, the. voice
saying, -"I forgive thee such and such a sin." Elizabeth
astonished, cried out, "Who are you who speak to me IP
this manner?" to which the voice replied, "I am He at
whose feet Mary Magdalene knelt in the house of Simon the
Leper."

On another occasion as she was regretting that she could
not confess to her usual spiritual director, the Lord appointed
to her as confessor the saint whom she had especially preferred
from her childhood, and whom she had always tenderly loved,
St. John the Evangelist. The apostle of charity appeared
to her ;, she confessed to him with a more faithful remem-
brance of and a greater contrition for her sins than ever she
had felt in her life before. He imposed upon her a penance,
and addressed to her exhortations so efficacious and tender,
that her .physical ills seemed to be alleviated, as well as the
sufferings of her soul.

In frequent contemplations, Elizabeth was permitted to
penetrate into even the most minute details of the bitter
passion of Christ. Once, as she prayed with fervour, she
saw, interiorly, a hand extended before her of resplendent
whiteness, but very thin, and with long and taper fingers, ami
bi the middle of the palm a deep scar ; .by this last sign she
knew it was the hand of Christ, and was astonished at seeing
it S3 emaciated. The voice, with which she was now fa-

248 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

miliar, replied to her thought, " It is because I was exhausted
during the night by vigils and prayers, and during the day
by my journeys through cities and country places, preaching
everywhere the kingdom of God !"

Again, she saw the clotted blood about the wound in th<*
side of Jesus crucified, and wondering that it was not more
liquid and pure, the same voice answered her that this appear-
ance was the effect of the fearful sufferings that the Son of
God endured whilst hanging on the cross.

All these wonderful visions tended to excite in Elizabeth's
gentle soul, an excessive contrition for her sins, the expiation
of which had caused such bitter pangs to the sovereign Vic-
tim ; as she one day shed abundant tears whilst meditating
on this subject, her Divine Consoler appeared to her and said,
" Grieve no longer, beloved daughter, for all thy sins are for-
given thee ; I have suffered in every member, and every part
of soul and body by which thou couldst offend thy Cre-
ator ; know that thou art free from all stain." " If I am
thus sanctified," said Elizabeth, " why can 1 not cease offend-
ing you ?" " I have not sanctified thee so far," said the
voice, "that thou couldst sin no more, but I have given thee
grace to love me so ardently that thou wouldst rather die
than commit sin."

Nevertheless, the humble soul of Elizabeth, far from be-
coming self-confident by these signal favours of her God,
seemed only to have found in them a new motive to despise
herself, to mistrust her strength, to exaggerate her unwor-
thiness in her own eyes. Whilst she nobly trampled under
foot the exterior trials and cruel persecutions of which she
was the object, she found within herself, in the scruples and
teiTors excited by her humility, an abundant source of afflic-
tion. But God, to whom alone she had offered her life and
her heart, watched over this precious treasure ; and, as if He
frilled that she should experience successively all the consola-

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OF HUNGARY. %4$

tions which are the inheritance of the children of predilection,
as if He intended that she should be more and more closely
united by ties at once the most sweet and powerful, Ha
charged Her whom we daily call upon as the Health of the
Weak, the Refuge of Sinners, the Coinfortress of the Afflicted,
to heal all the wounds of this young soul, languishing and
desolate, even with an excess of love, and that this excess
almost led into faults against the blesse'd virtues of Faith and
Hope. The Queen of heaven became henceforward the dis-
pensatrix of all the graces that her divine Son wished to pour
forth on this creature predestined from her cradle. Mary
had for our Elizabeth the condescending affection that she
showed to St. Bridget, and to many illustrious saints in the
memory of Christians. She appeared several times to instruct,
enlighten, ar.jl fortify her in the path wherein God willed she
should walk She whom the Church names always Mother,
Sovereign, Guide and Mistress of all men, disdained not to
watch ov .- every step of this young and humble follower of
her Son. The detailed traditions of these sacred confidences,
gathered from the recital of Elizabeth herself, have been
preserved to the Catholic people in the annals of the or dot of
St. Francis, and still further in the documents gathered by
the priceless labours of the learned Jesuits of Belgium, for
the continuation of their lives of the saints. Owing to these
precious manuscripts, we are enabled, even at this distance
of time, to admire the sweet familiarity and maternal solici-
tude wherewith Mary sympathised with all the emotions that
excited the tender, delicate, and scrupulous mind of Eliza-
neth, and how this Help of Christians came to her assistance
in those "severe struggles so frequently endured by the soula
of the elect. Thus we fear not to introduce here an abridg-
ment of these touching narratives, with confidence of the
pious admiration which they should excite in every trnlj
Catholic heart.
11*

250 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

Nothing could surpass the clemency which marked the
origin of these celestial communications. One day as the
afflicted widow sought, and as it were vainly, her Beloved in
fervent and anxious prayer, she began to meditate on the
causes of the flight of Jesus into Egypt, and earnestly wished
that she could have them explained to her by some learned
and holy monk. Immediately the Blessed Virgin appeared
to her, and said, " If thou wilt be my pupil, I will be thy
teacher ; if thou wilt be my servant, I will be thy mistress."
Elizabeth, not daring to believe herself worthy of so much
honour, said, " Who are you who ask me to be your pupil
and your servant ?" Mary replied immediately, "I am the
Mother of the living God, and I say unto thee that no monk
could better instruct thee on what thou wishest to know than
I could." At these words she extended her ha -ids towards
the Mother of Mercy, who took them in hers an said, " If
thou wilt be my child, I will be thy mother ; and when thou
Bhalt be well instructed and obedient, like a gooi pupil, a
faithful servant, and devoted child, I will present thee to my
Son. Avoid all disputes, close thine ears against all the ill
that is spoken of thee. Remember that my Divine Sou fled
into Egypt to escape the snares laid for him by Herod."

Still so great a favour did not entirely tranquillize Eliza-
beth ; her mistrust of self increased every day, yet never more
was she abandoned by the Mother who had adopted her. On
the feast of St. Agatha, (5th February,; as she wept bitterly
for her disobedience to the instructions of her divine mistress,
this blessed Consolatrix appeared, and said, " My child,
whence this violent affliction ? I have not chosen thee to be
my child in order to do thee harm. Despair not, though thou
hast not entirely observed my precepts ; I knew that thou
wouldst fail in some. Say once my 'Salutation,' and this
Bin will be forgiven thee." Some days, later, on the feast of
St. Scholastica, (Feb. 10,) Elizabeth wept again, and was

OF HUNGARY. 251

gobbing violently when her sweet Protectress came, accompa-
nied by St. John the Evangelist, the chosen patron of Wiz'd-
beth's childhood, and said to her, " Thou hast chosen me for
thy mistress and mother ; thou hast given thyself to me, but
I wish that this choice should be confirmed, and that is why
1 havt brought my beloved John." Elizabeth again joined
her hntids, and placed them in those of the Queen of Heaven,
like a vassal tendering homage to a sovereign, and said,
"Noble lady, do with me what you please, for I am your
servant ;" then she confirmed this offering of herself by a vow
of which St. John was the witness.

One dight, whilst Elizabeth recited the "Angelical Salu-
tation," she to whom this beauteous prayer is addressed ap-
peared, and, amongst other things said, " I will teach thee all
the prayers that I used to say whilst I was in the temple.
Beyond all else, I used to beg of God that I might love Him,
and hate my enemy. There is no virtue without this abso-
lute love of God, by which alone the plenitude of grace
descends into the soul : but, after entering there, it flows
away again unless the soul hates its enemies, that is to say,
vice and sin. He then who would preserve this grace should
endeavour to make this love and this hatred operate in his
heart. I wish that thou wouldst learn to do as I did. I
arose every night, and,, prostrate before the altar, I begged,
of God to teach me to observe all his commandments, and to
grant me those graces most pleasing to Him. I supplicated
H'im to permit me to see the time wherein should live the
holy virgin who was to bring forth His Son, that I might
consecrate my whole being to serve and venerate her." Eli-
zabeth interrupted her to say, "0 most sweet Lady, were
you not already full of . grace and virtue ?" But the holy
Virgin replied, " Be "assured that I thought myself as guilty
and as miserable as thou thinkest thyself, that was w' .y I
prayed to God to grant me His grace. The Lord," added

252 LIFE 1 OF ST. ELIZABETH,

this blessed Queen, ' did with me what the skilful musician
does with his harp disposing all its chords so as to produce
the most harmonious sound. It was thus the Lord waa
pleased to adapt to His good pleasure my soul, my heart, my
mind, and all my senses. Thus governed by His wisdom, I
was often borne by the angels to God's presence, and then I
experienced so much joy, and sweetness, and consolation,
that this world was entirely banished from my memory. So
familiar was I with God and His angels, that it seemed as if
I lived always with this holy court. Then when it pleased
the Almighty Father, I was again brought by the angels to
the place where I had been praying. When I found myself
again upon earth, and remembered where I had been, this"
thought so inflamed my soul with such a love of God, that I
embraced the earth, the stones, the trees, and all created
things through affection for their Creator. I wished to be
the servant of all the holy women who dwelt in the temple ;
I wished to be subject to all creatures through love for the
supreme Father. Thou shouldst do this also; but thou askest
thyself always, ' Why are such favours granted to me who
am so unworthy to receive them?' and then thou fallest into
a kind of despair and distrust of the goodness of God. Be
careful not to speak thus any more, for it displeases God,
who, like a good master, can confer his benefits on whom he
pleases, and who, like a wise father, knows what is best
suited to each child. In fine," said her heavenly instructress,
in conclusion, "I have come to thee by a special favour; this
night I am thine; ask what thou pleasest, I will answer all."
Elizabeth dared not at first avail herself of this permission,
but Mary having a second time exhorted her to speak, she
asked, " Tell me, dearest lady, why you so ardently desired
to see the virgin who was to bring forth the Son of God ?"
The. the blessed Mother related to her, how -in seeking con-
relation in the absence of the supernatural favours of wbicb

or HUNGARY. 253

she had spoken, she had been led, by meditating on the words
of the prophets, to cherish this idea ; that she resolved te
consecrate her virginity to God, in order that she might be
worthy to serve that predestined virgin ; and how, at length,
God d< igned to reveal to her that she was the woman reserved -
for this high dignity.

Some time after, as Elizabeth prayed with -fervour, her
tender Mother appeared to her again, nd said, " My child,
thou thinkest that I received all these graces without trouble,
but it was not so. Indeed I say unto thee that I did not
receive a single favour from God without unceasing prayer,
ardent desire, sincere devotion, many tears and trials. Be
certain that no grace comes to the soul without prayer, and
the mortification of the body. When we have given to God
all that we can from ourselves, however little it may be, He
visits our souls, and imparts to them these wonderful gifts,
that make them feel how trifling are their efforts to please
God. The soul then becomes in its own eyes more con-
temptible than ever. What then should this creature do?
Render fervent shanks to God for these favours. When God
sees the soul Iruznble and thankful, He replenishes it with
joys greater than its most ardent hopes could conceive. It
was in this manner He acted towards me when He deputed
His angel Gabriel to me. What did I then ? I kneit, and.
joining my hands humbly, I said, ' Behold the handmaid of
the Lord, be it done unto me according to thy word.' Then
God gave me His Son, and with him the seven gifts of the
Iloly Ghost. And wouldst thou know why ? Because I
believed in His word, and humbled myself before Him; I
tell thee these things, my child, that thou mayest correct
thy failings in the virtues of Faith and Hope. When the
Lord shall have promised any grace say, like me, 'Behold
thy handmaid/ and expect in firm faith the coming of that
grace, until the promise shall be accomplished. And if it

254 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

comes not, say that thou hast committed some fault which
has rendered tliee unworthy of its fulfilment."

During the vigil of Christmas, Elizabeth begged of the
Lord to grant her grace to love Him with her whole heart j
Mie Blessed among women appeared to her again and asked,
"Who is it that loves God? Dost thou?" The humble
Elizabeth dared not affirm that she did, and yet was unwilling
to deny it. While she hesitated to answer, Mary continued :
' ' Dost thou wish that I should tell thee who loved Him. The
blessed Bartholomew did, as likewise, did St. John and Saint
Lawrence. Wouldst thou, like them, endure being flayed
alive, or burned for His sake ?" Elizabeth remaining still
silent, Mary resumed : " Indeed I say unto thee, if thou wilt
consent to be deprived of all that is dear, precious and love-
able to thee, and even of thy own will, I will obtain for thee
the same reward that Bartholomew received, when his skin
was flayed off. If thou endurest insults patiently, thou wilt
be like unto Lawrence when he suffered martyrdom ; if thou
keepest silence when reproached and offended, thou wilt merit
grace, as John did when the wicked sought to poison him ,
and in all this I will be near to instruct and fortify thee."

One day, when at meditation, Elizabeth thought upon the
prayers the holy Virgin had told her she made in the Temple,
she asked herself, " Why did Mary seek for graces that never
failed her." The Queen of heaven appeared, and answered
her with gentle sweetness and familiarity. " I did," said she,
"as a man who would wish to construct a fair fountain.
He goes to the foot of a mountain, examines carefully whence
springs the water, he digs until he finds the source, and then
directs the stream to the spot wherein he would have his foun-
tain ; this place he constructs, so that the water must remain
pure and fresh ; be surrounds his fountain with a wall, erects
a pillar, and all around he makes canals wherein the water
may flow plentifully, for the comfort of all. Thus did I act

OF HUNGARY. 25ft

1 went to the moantain when I began to study the Holy
Law. I found the source, when I learned that to love God
with tlie whole heart was the origin of all good. I prepared
the place, when I conceived the desire of loving all that He
loved. I willed that the water should be pure and dear,
when I resolved to fly and hate sin. I surrounded it with
walls, when I joined humility, patience and meekness, to the
fire of charity. I erected the pillar and formed the canals,
when I became, as it were, an universal refuge, for I am
always ready to bring floods of grace and consolation from On
High to those who invoke me for themselves or others. I
have revealed to thee," said she in conclusion, " my beloved
daughter, all the prayers that I used, in order that by my ex
ample thou shouldst supplicate God in all confidence and hu-
mility for all thou requirest. Knowest thou why virtues are
not equally given to all men ? Because some know not how
to ask them with such humility, nor preserve them with so
much care as others ; that is why God wishes that he who has
less should- be aided by those who possess more. And I wish
that thou shouldst pray fervently for thy own salvation and
that of others." These wonderful interviews over, Elizabeth
saw one day a tomb covered with flowers, out of which her
sweet Consolatrix arose and was borne to Heaven by myriads
of celestial spirits who conducted her to the arms of her divine
Spn. An angel came to explain to her this vision of the As*
sumption, which was granted as a favour intended to enable
her to endure her present sufferings, and also to foreshow
the glory which God had in store for her, should she per-
severe to the end faithful and docile to His divine will.

The humble servant of Christ, in relating these prodigies,
paid that she had seen and understood them in a manner so
clear and convincing that she would rather die than deny their
existence. *

It was thus that God even in this world rewarded His

256 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

faithful servant. He gave Himself as Spouse to the solitary
widow, to the young and sorely afflicted woman. He gave
to her as mother and mistress, Her, who is at once the mother
of mercies and of sorrows. To the soul deprived of all earthly
consolatjon, He even in this vale of tears opened tie inexhaus*
iible and imperishable treasures of heaven

K^^i^^^^^^^w~^^^f^^f<^---^y^' ^^^^f^^^'^^w^s^':^^^yf"y:^f:-^

Of HUNGARY. 257

CHAPTER XX

... --aAii ST. ELIZABETH REFUSED TO MAKBY A SECOMf TIME,
AKD HOW SHE CONSECRATED HER WEDDING* SiRMENTS TO JESUS,
THE SPOUSE OF HER SOUL.

"Ego dilecto meo, et dilectus meus mihi, qni pascitur inter lilia." Cant. vi. 2.

" The true widow in the Church is a little violet of March, which sends forth ao
Incomparable sweetness by the odour of her devotion, and almost always keeps

herself concealed under the broad leaves of her abjection She grows in cool

and uncultivated places, not willing to be importuned with the conversations of
worldlings, the better to preserve the coolness of her heart against all the heats which
the desire of riches, of honours, or even of fond loves might bring upon her." Si.
Francis de Sales, Intro, iii. 2. *

THE melancholy state to which this Princess of birth so
illustrious, and connected with the most powerful houses of
the empire, was reduced, could not fail to excite the compas-
sion and intervention of her relatives, as soon as it became
known to them. The Duchess Sophia, after making many
unsuccessful efforts to prevail on her sons to ameliorate the
condition of poor Elizabeth, sent secretly to inform her aunt,
Matilda, Abbess of Kitzingen, sister of the Queen of Hungary,,
her mother, of her misfortunes. This pious princess was
moved with compassion on hearing the sad tale, and sent at
once faithful messengers, with two carriages, to seek for her
niece and her children, and to bring them to the Abv:^. Eli-
zabeth, overjoyed to be again with her little ones /Lrm she
loved so ardently, accepted this invitation at onn j and it
seems that her persecutors dared not to hinder he' t.c doing.
So she travelled through the vast forests and over 'Jje moun-
tains that separate Thuringia from Franconia, until she
arrived at Kitzingen on the 'JV! 3in.

258 LIFE OF SI ELIZABETH,

The Abbess received her with maternal tenderness, and
many tears ; she assigned her a lodging suitable to her rank,
and strove by her kindness to make her forget the many suf-
ferings of soul and body which she had endured. But the
young Duchess found no sweeter consolation than in conform
ing to the rule of the monastic life, and she often expressed
a regret that the care of her children prevented her from en-
tering the Order as a religious. Meanwhile Egbert, Prince
Bishop of Bamberg, brother of the Abbess Matilda, of the
Duchess Hedwige of Poland, of Queen Gertrude, and conse-
quently maternal uncle of Elizabeth, having heard of her suf-
ferings and of her arrival at Kitzingen, thought that her pro-
longed sojourn in the Monastery was neither suited to her
position, nor to the customs of a religious house, so he invited
her to his dominions. The gentle Princess obeyed, though
perhaps with regret, leaving to fne care of her aunt -her se-
cond daughter Sophia, then scarcely two years old, who after-
wards took the veil in this abbey, which had served as an
asylum to her mother, and which had been the cradle of her
own childhood. The Prelate gave his niece a welcome, such
as tended to convince her of his affection for herself, and of
respect for her misfortunes. He proposed to conduct her to
Hungary to the king, her father, but this slit- refused, owing
probably to the sad remembrance of the death of her mother,
Queen Gertrude. The bishop then assigned to her the castle
of Botenstein as a residence, 'this he furnished according to
her rank, and provided eight domestics, over all of whom she
might rule as she pleased. Hither then she went with her
children, and her faithful maidens, Ysentrude and Guta, who
had nobly shared in all her trials, and in this peaceful homo
they resumed by day and by night their practices of piety.
But the Prelate, seeing that Elizabeth was very young, being
only twenty years old, and besides of remarkable beauty-
remembering the precept of St. Paul, he conceived the pro

OF HUNGARY. 259

Jtct of re-marrying her. According to many authors, he
wished that she should wed the Emperor Frederick II., who
bad just lost his second wife, Yolande of Jerusalem. The
Emperor himself was also anxious for this, according to the
account of a contemporary writer. The Bishop went to com-
tnunicate to the Dnchess his design ; he told her that he
wished to espouse her to a lord far more illustrious and power-
ful than her late husband. Elizabeth replied with great sweet-
ness, that she would prefer remaining single during the rest
of her life, and thus to serve God alone. Her uncle main-
tained that she was still too young to embrace such a life, he
reminded her of the persecutions she already had suffered,
and showed her the possibility of their renewal after his
death ; for though he resolved to leave her Botenstein and its
dependancies, once, in the tomb, he could not defend her from
the attacks of her enemies. *But Elizabeth wavered not. A
French poet has preserved her answer : " Sire," said the
beauteous and pious princess, " I had for lord a husband who
most tenderly loved me, and who was always my loyal friend.
I shared in his honour and in his power ; I had much of the
riches, jewels, and pleasures of the world ; I had all these,
but I always thought, what you, my lord, know full well,
that the joys of this earth are worthless. For this reason I
wish to abandon the wordly life, and to pay to God what I
owe Him, the debts of my soul. You know that mundane
pleasures produce but pains and torments, and the death of
the soul. Sire, I am eager to join the followers of our bless-
ed Lord. I ask but one thing on earth : I have two children
of my late husband, wb.) will be rich and poweiful, (Hermann
and the elder Sophia who were not destined to the monastic
life,) I would rejoice and be grateful to God, if He loved me
gufficiently, to take them to Himself."

It does not appear that the Duchess then spoke of the vow
of continence which she bad made during her 'husband's life-

860 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

time, in case of her surviving him, but she often mentioned
it to her maids of honour, who had made a similar vow with
her, and who feared that the Bishop would exert his power
to annul it. She strove to inspire them with courage, by an
assurance of her own perseverance under any circumstances.

" I have sworn," said she, " to God, and to my lord and
husband during his life, that never would I be the wife of any
other man. God, who reads the heart and unveils its most
secret thoughts, knows that I made this vow with a pure
heart and a firm resolution. I rely on His mercy it is im-
possible but that He will defcnd my chastity against all the
projects of men and against their violence. Mine was not a
conditional vow, made in case that it should please my parents
and friends but a free, willing, and absolute one to conse-
crate myself entirely, after the death of my beloved husband,
to the glory of my Creator. If they then, in contempt of the
freedom of choice in marriage, espouse me to any man, I
will protest against it before the Altar, and if I find no other
means of escaping, I will cut off my nose, and thus render
myself an object of horror to all." Still she was disquieted
on this account, for from the firm will of the Bishop, she
knew she would have many and severe conflicts to endure in
order to remain faithful to God and her conscience. She was
seized with a great sadness. She had recourse to the Supreme
Consoler, and kneeling at His feeo, oathed in tears, she begged
of Him to watch over the treasure she had consecrated to
Him. She also addressed herself to the Queen of Virgins,
who had been given to her as a mother. Neither disdained
her prayers, a'nd peace was restored to her soul. . She soon
felt quite tranquillized, and animated with boundless confi-
dence in the mercy of Heaven.

It is doubtless to this time that' the recitals of local tradi-
tions, relating to some journeys made by Elizabeth, refer, and
these she undertook, either to escape the importunities of hei

^siijg^ysj??^^

OF HUNGARY. 261

uncle, or to indulge seme motives of devotion or pioua
curiosity.

These causes would suffice in that age, notwithstanding
the difficulty of communication, to make men travel more,
than could, even in our day, the desire of accumulating
riches or the restlessness of modern travellers. The poor,
the infirm, even women yielded to the desire of praying in
eome celebrated sanctuary, or of venerating the relics of some
especially beloved saint to provide for their old age some
sweet memories of pilgrimages made under the protection of
God and of His holy angels.

Elizabeth went twice to Erfurth, a town celebrated for
the number and beauty of its sacred edifices, situated in the
centre of her husband's dominions, though belonging to the
Archbishop of Mayeuce. She here selected as her dwelling-
place, a convent of penitent women, called White Nuns, and
there she remained during several days in the most strict
retreat. When leaving, she gave them the glass which she
was wont to use at her frugal meals, which is still preserved
there as a memorial of her goodness and humility. The
convent is now occupied by a community of Ursulines, and
they show a little room looking over the Church, which, it is
said, was occupied by the dear St. Elizabeth. About this
time, she also went to visit the dwelling of her maternal an-
cestors at A ndechs, situated on a height near the Alps which
separate Bavaria from the Tyrol. This ancient and famous
Castle had been just converted by Henry, Margrave of Istria,
also an uncle of Elizabeth, into a monastery of Benedictines, or
according .to others, of regular canons of St. Augustine^ which
has since been rendered remarkable by the possession of some
of the most precious relics in Christendom, and by the nume-
rous miraces performed there Elizabeth came to associate,
by her presence, in the pious foundation which should forever
tend to the honour of her family. From the summit of thia

262 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

holy mountain she contemplated Bavaria, then rich in th
double beauty of nature and religion full of celebrated mo-
nasteries, some hidden in the midst of the ancient forests-
others reflected in the calm waters of the lakes of that conn-
try all serving as nurseries of the Christian civilization of
the land, and which for so many centuries still offered an in-
violable sanctuary to science, a sweet, safe asylum to souls
.eager for repose and prayer, and a boundless hospitality to
the numerous pilgrims who went by the northern kingdoms tc
visit the tombs of the Apostles. How many times did our
Elizabeth fix her eyes on the majestic chain of the mountains
of the Tyrol, where every Catholic heart rejoices in thinking
that beyond them lie Italy and Rome 1

Our dear Saint also contributed to the veneration with
which this beautiful place was regarded. At the foot of
the mountain by her prayers she obtained that a well of pure
water, gifted with many healing qualities, should spring up,
and so abundantly that it was never dry even during the
most parched seasons. The pious princess also brought to
this place, which had just passed from the protection of her
family to that of the All-powerful God, a loved memorial of
her married life, which, in the simplicity of her heart, she
offered to the chosen Spouse of her soul. This was her wed-
ding robe even that worn by her on the day that saw her
united to her well-beloved "Louis. This she laid upon the
Altaf, and gave at the same time to the religious a little sil-
ver cross containing some relics of the instruments of the pas-
sion ; her Pax or the Reliquary she always carried with her,
and several other matters which were dear to her.

A few years passed by, and the name of the young widow,
whom we have seen coming as an humble pilgrim to offer her
gifts at this newly-formed sanctuary, filled the Christian world
with its glory, and the hand of God's vicegerent on eai fck in-
scribed it amongst the blessed ones of Heaven. Can m b

lppf2pgpP*sg^^

OF HUNG ART. 2(33

astonished if thenceforth the presents of this Saint should
become to this sacred place, priceless treasures, and that even
to this day, notwithstanding past stormy and gloomy years,
the simple and faithful people still come to venerate and kiss
them with respectful love.

NOTE BY THE COUNT MONTALEMBERT.

The monastery of Andechs on the occasion of the secular
ization of all the possessions of religious orders by king Max-
imilian of Bavaria in 1806 was sold to a Jew! yet the Church
and its treasury of relics have been preserved. The wedding
robe of Elizabeth serves there as a covering to three miracu-
lous Hosts. On the principal festivals of the year, a number
of pilgrims meet there, and the inhabitants of the neighbour-
ing villages come procession ally, chaunting Litanies. An-
dechs is about eight leagues from Munich, near the lovely
lake Staremberg. From the height on which the Church is
built, the eye embraces the entire chain of the Tyrolian Alps.
Few places in Germany are more worthy the visit of the
Catholic traveller. Those who can go there, are requested
to remember before God's Altar, the author of this book.

. The translator entreats the pious pilgrim to the
Holy Shrine at Andechs, to pray also for her, and all those
ihe holds .dear.

904 LIFE 3F ST. ELIZABETH.

CHAPTER XXI

BOW THE DEAR ST. KLIZ4.BETH RECEIVED THE REMAINS OF HOT
flCSBAND, AND HOW THEY WERE INTERRED AT REYNHARTSBRITNN.

* Benedict! TOS Domino, qui fecistis miserioordiam hanc cum Domino vestro, et
sepelistis eum. 1 ' 2 Reg. ii. 5.

"Requiem tibi dabit Dominus semper, et implebit splendoribus animam tuam,
et ossa tua iiberablt." Is. Iviii. 2.

had Elizabeth returned to Botenstein when a
messenger from the Bishop came to request her presence at
Bamberg, in order to receive the remains of her husband
which the Thaiingian knights, after their return from the
Crusade, were bringing there.

As we have already seen, the companions of the late Duke,
after having left his body at Otranto, set out for Syria in or-
der to accomplish their vow. Those amongst them who were
able to reach Jerusalem, offered there gifts and prayers for
his intentions, as he had requested them on his death-bed.
On their return from the pilgrimage, they passed through
Otranto in order to bring home the body of their Sovereign.
Thev disinterred him. and found that his bones were white as

snow, a sure sign in that age that the husband had preserved
an inviolate fidelity to his wife.

After having placed these relics in a rich coffin, they laid
it on a hearse and set out for their own country. Before the
bier was a large silver cross, inlaid with precious stones, as a
mark of their own piety and of their devotion to their master.
In every city where they passed a night, they brought the
bier into n Church, and had it watched by monks or other

lpPlp|Slp|lp^^

OF HUNGARY. 265

pious persons, chaunting the office of the dead and other
prayers.

They departed not next day until they had heard Mass
and made their offerings. If it were at a Cathedral or Con-
ventual Church, they left the purple drapery that enveloped
the coffin, that its worth might be distributed in alms for the
repose of the good prince's soul. In man's memory were
never witnessed more solemn obsequies.

The mournful cortege thus traversed all Italy and southern
Germany. When arrived at a short distance from Bamberg,
they sent to warn the Bishop of their approach, and. he im-
mediately summoned the Duchess from Botenstein. At the
same time, he ordered all the nobles and dignitaries of his
court to meet her with befitting sympathy, and to watch
carefully over her, lest during the affecting ceremony of the
next day her strength might abandon her. He then went
out to meet the body, accompanied by all his clergy, the re-
ligious of the various monasteries, and the children of the
schools ; an immense crowd followed and mingled their voices
with the funeral chaunts of the priests, and with the sound of
all the bells of the episcopal city. Several nobles joined in
the procession. The body was conveyed to the celebrated
Cathedral, where the bodies of the Emperor St. Henry and
of the Empress St. Cunegunda reposed. During the whole
night the office for the dead was chaunted.

The next day Elizabeth, accompanied by her ever faithful
ysentruie and Guta, was conducted to the place where
the precious relics reposed; they opened the coffin and per-
mitted her to look upon the remains of her husband. " Then,"
says the pious narrator of this scene, " what her heart felt of
grief and love none could know but Him who reads the
secrets of the hearts of the children of men." All the afflic-
tion of the moment wherein she first learned her loss, was
renewed in her soul.; she threw herself on the bones, and
12

265 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

fervently kissed them ; her tears flowed abundantly ; her agi
tation was so violent that the bishop and the nobles present
strove to console her and to lead her away from the sad
spectacle, Bat she remembered God, and immediately all
her strength of mind was restored. " I thank you, Lord,"
said she, " for having deigned to listen to my prayer, and for
having granted my earnest wish in permitting me to look
upon the remains of him, my beloved and yours. I thank
you for having thus consoled my afflicted and desolate soul ;
he offered himself, and I also offered him, to you for the
defence of your Holy Land. I regret not this sacrifice,
though I loved him with all my heart's ardour. You know,
my God, how I loved this husband, who loved you so
much ; you know that I would prefer .him to all the delights
of this world, if your goodness permitted it. You know that
with him I would be willing to spend my life in misery, and
to beg my bread with him from door to door, throughout the
whole world, solely to have the happiness of being by his side,
if you willed it, my God ! Now I resign myself and him
to your Divine pleasure, and I would not, even if I could,
purchase him back again at the price of a single hair of my
head, unless it was agreeable to you, my good God !"

This was the last cry of vanquished nature, the last sigh
of the earthly affections in this young heart, expiring under
the yoke of Divine love. Having spoken these words, she
dried the torrent of her tears, and left the Church in silence.
She went and sat in a little grassy cloister near the cathedral,
and sent to the Thuringian knights who had brought the
body of her husband, to come and meet her there. At their
approach she arose humbly to do them honour, and requested
them to seat themselves around, as she was not strong enough
to remain standing. She spoke gently to them for a long
time, and asked them, in the name of God and of Jesus Christ,
to protect her little children, and to act as their guardians.

^^^^^i^^^m^'&m *\

^v?.^v^^'v^:'^ "V"":"?- . " ; :; : ". " , -

OF HUNGARY. 26'

She told them of the cruel conduct of the Landgravds Henry
and Conrad to them and to herself, and of the misery they
had endured at Eisenach. The Bishop in his turn confirmed
the recital of the Duchess, and spoke with the knights on the
means to be used to repair the wrongs done to the widow
and orphans of their sovereign. A lively indignation was
manifested by the pilgrims when they heard of the sufferings
of the young Duchess. They declared that they would always
regard her as their lady and mistress, and would defend her
against all. At their head was the noble and faithful De
Varila, son of him who sixteen years before brought from
her father's palace the princess who now appealed to him as
a betrayed and oppressed widow ; he thought upon the oath
which his father had sworn to king Andrew to watch over his
daughter, and with his brothers-in-arms he requested the
prelate to confide to their care this noble, -but distressed
family, that they might bring them, together with the mortal
remains of Duke. Louis, to Thuringia, where they vowed that
ample justice should be done them. Assured by their pro-
mises, and by their renown as valiant knights, which the
events of the late crusades served materially to increase, the
bishop consented, and entrusted them with the charge of her
whose defenders they had constituted themselves. It does
not appear that he mentioned his project of a second mar-
riage for the young Duchess. After having, himself, cele-
brated for the repose of the soul of the defunct prince a
solemn pontifical mass, at which all the inhabitants of the
city assisted, and having generously defrayed the expenses of
the guests during their sojourn at Bamberg, he b|de them
farewell, and took leave also of the Duchess and her children.
The mournful procession set out for the abbey of *Keyuharts-
brunn, where the pious Louis had chosen his burial place.
Meanwhile the news of the arrival of the remains of the
beloved sovereign reached Thuringia, and created there a

268 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

great sensation. Not only did the Duchess Sophia, mothel
of Louis, with her sous, Henry and Conrad, hasten to Reyn
hartsbrunn to meet the funeral, but also tlie counts, lords,
and knights of the country, and, in remembrance of the good
prince who had so tenderly cared for and energetically pro-
tected them, an immense multitude of people, rich and poor,
of town and of country, men and women, assembled .at Reyn-
bartsbrunn to pay the last honours to him who so short a
time before parted from them for God's honour to meet under
a foreign sky the fate of a too premature death.

Many motives contributed to swell this crowd ; the very
natural desire to see who of the crusaders had escaped the
perils of the voyage, brought there all who had friends or
relatives engaged in the Holy Wars ; and also the interest
which was everywhere, but at Eisenach, felt for the Duchess
Elizabeth, the recital of her woes, and of her exile Which
had been heard in the country, and the wish to know what
should become of this young and defenceless woman, attracted
thither many pious and compassionate souls. Several bishops
and abbots came also to testify their respect for the champion
of the Church and of the Holy Sepulchre. The monks from
whom he had parted with so much affection, and with a toe
surely realized presentiment, had now to perform the sad duty
of rendering to him the highest honours which the Church de-
crees to her departed children in the faith. They went to meet
his body, followed by a great number of the secular clergy, and
a multitude of people chaunting psalms and hymns, frequently
interrupted by their weeping. The obsequies were celebrated
in the abbey church, in presence of the two Duchesses, and
the two young Landgraves, who, before -the remains of Louis,
were united in a mutual and sincere sorrow

All the magnificence of ecclesiastical ceremony was used
on this occasion, and the solemnities were prolonged for several
flajs. ^The sighs and tears of the poor were the most novel

tsppi^-F^^r^^

OF HUNGARY.

and beautiful features in the funeral pomp. Generous offer-
ings were given to the Church, and abundant alms distributed
to the indigent, as the last tribute of respect to him who had
so well loved the poor and venerated the Church. His re-
mains were enclosed in a slirine, which was laid in a tomb
hewn out of stone, in such a manner that they remained
exposed, and many pilgrimages were made to visit them.
The people's love, and the gratitude of the monks, decreed to
Louis the surname of the pious, under which he is known in
history, and which was confirmed by many miraculous cures
obtained at his tomb through his invocation. Thus was he
during three centuries the object of popular veneration, which,
however, was never confirmed by ecclesiastical authority. At
the present day the Catholic traveller may see the broken
stone of his sepulchre in that Church which is no longer Cath-
olic. In contemplating this last memorial, we cannot refuse a
tribute of respect and admiration to this prince, who, though
the Church has not enrolled him amongst her holy ones* wai
.at least tbe worthy husband of a saint

2*70 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER XXII.

THT; THURINGIAN KNIGHTS MADE DUKE HENRY RECENT OF ma

, AND MADE HIM RENDER AMPLE JUSTICE TO THE
ST. ELIZABETH.

"Aperi 03 tunm muto, et cansis omnium filiorum qui pertranseunt : aperi ot
tnurn, decerao quodjustum est, et judica inopem et pauperum." Prov. xxxi. 8, 9.

IMMEDIATELY after the termination of the obsequies, the
Lord De Yarila reminded the Thuringian knights who sur-
rounded the Duchess Elizabeth of the pledge they had given
the bishop of Bamberg in regard to his niece. They retirecl
to deliberate upon it.

"We must now," said Lord Rodolph, "keep the vow
which we uiade to our noble prince, and to our lady Elizabeth,
who has already endured such misery ; otherwise, I very
much fear that our conduct will deserve for us the eternal fire
of hell."

All understood this language, for in those times the bravest
warriors were not ashamed of being guided in their actions
by the thought of another life. They unanimously resolved
to address vigorous remonstrances to the Landgrave Henry
and his brother, and they specially charged with this unplea
sant duty four knights, whose names, says the historian,
merit to be preserved with immortal glory. These were,
first, the Lord De Yarila, great cupbearer, who was to speak
in the name of all, as being the most eloquent, and who, with
his family, was most attached to the Duchess ; and with him,
Ludolph de Berstetten, Hartwig de Herba, and Gaultier de
Varila, related to Rodolph. Preceded by these, all the
knights went to meet the young princes, whom they found

ggpgfpffi*pf^^

OF HtfNG A.RY. 271

with their mother. The Lord De Varila, turning towards
Duke Henry, addressed to him the following words, which
have been carefully and with good reason recorded in the
chronicles of the country : .

" My Lord, my friends and your vassals who are here
present, have requested me to speak to you in their name.
We have heard in Franconia, and even here in Thuringia, of
conduct of yours so blameable, that it -has filled us with
consternation, and given us reason to blush in thinking
that in our country and amongst our princes, so much
impiety and infidelity, and such a want of honour, could be
found.

" Young prince, what have you done, and who has given
you counsels so nefarious? What! you have driven igno-
miniously from your castles and from your cities, as if she
was a wicked woman, your brother's wife, the afflicted
widow, the daughter of an illustrious king, whom, on the
contrary, you should have honoured and consoled. Forget-
ting even your own renown, you have exposed her to suffering
and left her to wander through the streets as a mendicant.
When your brother devoted his life for the love of God, his
little orphans, whom you should have defended and cherished
like a -faithful guardian, were cruelly repulsed by you, ami
you knew that they even had to be separated from their dear
mother to prevent them dying of hunger with her. Is this
your fraternal love? Is this what you learned from your
brother, that virtuous prince, who would not act in such a
manner towards the meanest of his subjects ? No ; the
rudest peasant would not be so guilty towards one of his
fellows, as you, a prince, have been to your brother, when
he went to fight and die for the love of God ! How can
we now trust to youi fidelity or your honour ? You know
that as a knight you are sworn tc protect widows and
orphans, and you are yourself the first to wrong the orphans

." W ^

272 1IFK OF ST. ELIZABETH,

and the widow of your brother. I tell you plainly that such
conduct cries to Heaven for vengeance."

The Duchess Sophia, on hearing these well-merited re-
proaches addressed to her son, burst into tears. The young
Duke, annoyed and ashamed, hung his head, without reply-
ing. The Lord de Yarila then resumed : " And, my Lord,
what had you to fear from a poor weakly woman, anguish-
stricken and alone, without friends or allies in. this country ?
What injury would this noble and virtuous lady have done
you, even if she had remained mistress of all your castles ?
What will now be said of you in other countries? How
shameful ! I blush to think of your degradation. Know
that you have offended God that you have dishonoured thia
country of Thuringia that you have sullied your own fame
and that of your noble house ; and I fear, indeed, that the
wrath of God will fall heavily on our land, unless you do
penance before Him, and become reconciled to this pious
lady, by restoring to her and to your brother's son all that
of which you have unjustly deprived them."

All present were astonished at the courageous boldness of
the noble knight's language, and God made use of his words
to touch a heart which had long remained insensible to the
inspirations of justice and piety.

The young prince, who had remained silent until then,
burst into tears, and wept for some time without uttering a
word, but at length he said " I repent sincerely of what I
have done. I will never again listen to those who counselled
me to act thus ; restore to me your confidence- and your
friendship, and I will do willingly all that my sister Eliza-
beth shall require. I give you full power to dispose of my
life and my possessions as you will." The Lord de Varila
replied " 'Tis well ; that is the only means of escaping the
wrath of God." Nevertheless, Henry could not refrain from
saying, in a low voice "If jay sister Elizabeth owned tho

sgp5^^

OF HUNGARY. 273

whole empire of Germany, none of it would she retain for
Herself, but would give it all away for the love of God."

De Yarila then went with his companions to announce to
Elizabeth the result of his remonstrances, and to inform her
that her brother-in-law was anxious to be reconciled, and to
do her justice. When they began to speak of the conditions
to be imposed on Duke Henry, she cried out- "I want
neither his castles nor his riches, nor anything that would
tend to trouble or distract me : but I would be grateful to
my brolher-in-law if he would give me what is due of my
dowry, in order to defray the expenses of what I wish to
do for the salvation of my own soul, and the repose of that
of my beloved husband."

The knights then conducted Henry to Elizabeth. -He
came accompanied by his mother and his brother Conrad.
When he saw her, he begged forgiveness for the injuries he
had done her, said that he regretted them sincerely, and
that he would make ample atonement. Elizabeth answered
by embracing him tenderly and beginning to weep. The
two brothers and the Duchess Sophia mingled their tears
with hers, and the valiant warriors could no longer remain
unmoved spectators of this touching scene, and they too
wept, remembering the mild and gracious prince who had
been the connecting link of all this family, and who was now
hopelessly lost to them.

The rights of the children were also secured, particularly
those of Hermann, the first-born, and lawful heir to the
duchies of Thuringia and Hesse. The Regency, as by right,
was given during his minority, to the elder of his uncles,
the Landgrave Henry. All these arrangements concluded,
the crusader knights separated to return to their castles ; and
Elizabeth, with her children, accompanied by the Duchtsa
Sophia and the young Duke, set out for that Wartbnrg from
which she had been so heartlessly expelled. (A. D. 1228-1229.)
12*

274 LIFE OF fiT ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER XXIII

SOW THE DEAR SAINT ELIZABETH RENOUNCED THE WOKLDL1T LIFE,
AND, RETIRING TO MARBURG, ASSUMED THERE THE HABIT OF THB
OKDER OF THE GLORIOUS SAINT FRANCIS.

' Una.it petii a Domino, hane reqniram, ut inhabitem in domo Domino omniboi
fliebus vita moae : ut videam voluptatem Domini. . . . Quoniam abscondit me la
tabernaculo suo." Psalm xxvi. 7, 8, 9

" Pro Francisi cliordula,
Mantello. tunicula,
Purpuram deposuit."

Ancient prose for St. Elizabeth, in the
Franciscan Manual of 1618.

DUKE HENRY was faithful to his promises, and, during all
the time that Elizabeth remained with him, he strove by the .
most respectful affection to obliterate the remembrance of the
many sufferings he had caused her to endure.

.He restored to her all the honours due to her rank, and
gave her full liberty to continue all her pious exercises and
works of charity ; and these she resumed with her wonted
ardour. About this time she founded the hospital of Saint
Mary Magdalene, at Gotha, which she had planned during
her husband's life-time, and which she completed at her return
to her possessions.

As before, her love for the poor occupied in her heart all
that was not devoted to prayer and contemplation. Freed
by her widowhood from the obligation of appearing at festivals
and public ceremonies, she avoided all occasions of sharing in
the banquets given to the nobles, or in the other rejoicings of
the court, which she knew were too frequently provided ly
means derived from the oppression and hard labour of tha

OF HUNGARY 275

Jowly. She preferred to the pomp of this world's power
the humiliations of God's poor people, and associated herselJ
to them as much as possible by the practice of voluntary
poverty.

The sight of such a life offered too severe a lesson to the
coi'irtiers and to the false, knights who had caused her so much
Buffering in her youth and in the early days of her widowhood,
not to re-animate their dislike towards her. To be revenged
for her contempt for the. riches and pleasures which they prized
above all things, they affected to despise herself. They would
neither speak to nor visit her. If by chance they met her,
.hey profited of the opportunity afforded them to call her, in
an audible tone, a mad woman and a fool. She endured these
insults with equanimity; her face expressed so much, happi-
ness and resignation, that they accused her of having already
forgotten the death, of her husband and of indulging in un-
seemly joy. " Miserable wretches !" says an author of that
time, "they understood not that she possessed the peace and
joy which are not granted to the impious."

Even the Duchess Sophia appears to have been prejudiced
against her by calumnies, and to have manifested to her
daughter-in-law feelings of surprise and indignation ; but Eliza-
beth was-not troubled, for the Lord, who was all in all to her,
read the secrets of her heart.

On the other hand, pious persons, whose souls were truly
wise, appreciated and admired her humility. Besides, she
received at this time the noblest encouragement to a Chris-
tian soul the most powerful protection to a maligned
woman. From the Holy See, which was then the only sure
refuge of the feeble and the persecuted, words of friendly
and fatherly tenderness were uttered to strengthen and to
honour her. The same Cardinal Ugolino, whom we have
already seen acting as intermediary between onr princess

270 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

and St. Francis of Assisium, had become Pope, under the
name of Gregory IX., and having heard of her sufferings,
and of her unalterable fidelity in the path traced out for her
by God. addressed to her a letter replete with apostolic con-
solation He exhorted her, by the examples of the saints,
and by the hope of eternal life, tg persevere in continence
and patience : he enjoined her to place confidence in him, for
that during his life he would not abandon her ; that on the
contrary he would ever look upon her as his child, and that
thenceforth he took her person and property under his special
protection. At the same time, he granted her the privilege
of having a church and cemetery attached to her hospital of
Saint Mary Magdalene at Gotha. This tender and vigilant
father also ordered Master Conrad, who was still invested
with Apostolic authority in Germany, and who had just re-
turned to Thuringia, to take charge more than ever, abso-
lutely and specially, of the spiritual direction of the Duchess
Elizabeth, and at the same time to defend her against all
who might endeavour to do her any injury.

Whether these exhortations of the common father of the
faithful gave a new impulse to her courage, or whether
obeying the wonderful influence of Divine grace in her heart,
she soon entertained the idea and earnest desire of embracing
a life more perfect and more united to God. Though,
assuredly, she was as much as possible detached from the
splendours and pleasures of her rank, that did not satisfy her
ardour. Her soul came too frequently in contact with the
world, and that world she loved not. After having for a
long time considered upon what manner of life would be most
pleasing to God, and having examined the different rules of
the Monastic Orders then existing, and even the solitary life
of the recluses, the remembrance and example of the glorious
seraph-saint of Assisium, whose child she was already, as a
Penitent of tbe Third Order, gained the mastery in her heart }

/pWtSSFSgS?^^'^!^^^

cr HUNGARY. 277

&he felt the same courage, the same love of God and of
poverty, as he did ; she resolved upon embracing his rule in
all its primitive rigour, and like him and his fervent disci-
ples, after having renounced all things, to go and beg her
bread- from door to door. She mentioned her decision to
Master Conrad, and humbly requested his consent. But
this prudent director rejected this idea with indignation, and
gave her a severe reprimand, being persuaded that her sex
and weakness forbade her such a life. She still insisted ear-
nestly, shedding an abundance of tears ; but as he was stead-
fast in refusing, she left him, crying out, "You shall see; I
will do something that you cannot prevent !" But when she
saw that she could not vanquish Conrad's resistance for that
time, she had recourse to other means to satisfy the ardour and
zeal by which she was animated.

The Regent Henry, as we have already said, whatever
might have been his secret thoughts upon the manners and
feelings of his sister-in-law, always testified to her the respect
and affection which he had sworn over the ashes of his bro-
ther, and paid to her honours which the humble princess
would fain decline receiving ; counting on those good disposi-
tions, and after having resided for about a year with her
family, Elizabeth besought Duke Henry to assign to her
some residence where she might entirely devote herself to
God, without allowing any earthly care to interfere with her
works of piety and charity. Henry, after consulting hia
mother and brother, granted the city of Marburg, in Hesse,
with all its dependencies and revenues, to provide for her
maintenance. Penetrated with gratitude, she thanked her
mother and brothers-in-law, saying that they did for her t
more than she deserved, and gave more than would suffice
for all her wants. But the Landgrave promised to give also
500 marks of silve'r, to defray the first expenses of her esta
blisbmeut.

878 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

Master Conrad seems not to have approved of this arrange-"
merit, since we find that he wrote to the Pope that it was
against his will that the Duchess came into his country.
But as he did not oppose it positively, she profited of hia
approaching departure, to leave Thuringia, and to go and
dwell near her spiritual Father in the city which derived
from her name so pure and 'glorious a renown.

On her arrival at Marbourg, she- followed the advice given
by Master Conrad, and appointed officers and bailiffs, who
were to administer the laws in her name. The people of the
city were so eager to pay their homage to their young sove-
reign, that 'her humility could scarce endure such honour ;
so she retired to a little village called Wehrda, about a
league from the city, on the charming banks of the Lahn, a
river which runs by Marburg. On entering it, she selected
as her habitation the first cabin which she saw, and it was
one deserted and almost in ruins ; this she did, that she might
not cause any trouble to the people in the village, for her
tender solicitude was already awakened in behalf of her new
subjects. For shelter, she had to lie under the projection of
a staircase or of a chimney, and to gather the leafy branches
of trees to cover the openings by which the sun and wind
entered too freely. She prepared also her meagre food as
well as she was able, and always returned thanks to God. This
miserable hovel protected her neither from the heat nor from
the cold, and the smoke seriously injured her eyes, but for
God's sake she endured all these mortifications joyfully.
Meanwhile, she caused to be constructed at Marburg, near
the convent of the Friars Minors, a small house composed of
wood and brick, like a poor cabin, in order that all might
know that it was not as a great princess that she came to
establish herself in her capital, but as an humble and patient
widow, who came there to serve the Lord in poverty and
peace. As soon as this palace of Christian abnegation wai

ii|pfgfp^

OF HUNG ART. 279

eompleted, she went tc dwell there with her children and her
faithful servants.

Yet Elizabeth still sought a more signal and entire detach-
ment from the world, and a closer and more manifest bond
of union with God. Her confessor continued steadfast hi
refusing her permission to embrace the Franciscan rule in all
its severity, and to beg her bread like the poor Clares ; yet
she was still anxious to imitate, as far as possible, this life,
which seemed to her to be the type of evangelical perfection.
We have seen that during her husband's life-time she had
been enrolled in the Third Order of St. Francis. She resolved
thenceforth to give to that affiliation an irrevocable and solemn
character ; and though, previous to that time, this branch of
the Franciscan family was not looked upon as forming a
regular, or, correctly speaking, a monastic order, she wished
to make a public profession, as used the cloistered religious,
and to renew solemnly the vows of chastity, obedience, and
absolute poverty which she had so frequently made in her
heart. Elizabeth was thus enabled to associate herself, as
far as possible, in that glorious renunciation of this world's
wealth which has during so many centuries merited for the
Seraphic Order the special protection of God and the admira-
tion of the Christian world.

Master Conrad approved of this design, but he would not
permit her to consider her vow of poverty as depriving her of
the free disposal of the revenues proceeding from her dowry,
and the estates assigned for her use by the Landgrave
llenry. But on the contrary, she was gradually to apply
them to the relief of the poor, and to the liquidation of
fiertain debts incurred by her late husband, the good Duke
Louis.

Nevertheless, she renounced this wealth in spirit, as sho
did all earthly affections, even the most legitimate. To gain
this victory, not only over the world, but even over he!

280 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

own soul, the pious Elizabeth knew that greater strength
was required than what could be derived from her own will,
and the examples of the Blessed Francis, and of the othef
holy souls who had preceded her in the paths of perfection.
She knew that grace from above was alone sufficiently power-
ful for this, and she begged it from God, with more than her
wonted fervour, for several days before she assumed the
habit. She informed her friend Ysentrude that she inces-
santly prayed to the Lord for three favours, first, an entire
disregard of all temporal wealth, then the courage to disdain
the injuries and calumnies of men, and, finally, the diminu-
tion of the excessive love she bore to her children. After
having for some time sought these graces, she came cme day
to her companions, radiant with more than earthly joy, and
said to them "The Lord has heard my prayer ; behold ! I
formerly loved the wealth and pleasures of the world, and
now they are become worthless in my eyes. The calumnies
of men, the false sayings of the wicked, and the contempt
which they lavish upon me, have become to me sources of
pride and happiness. My little ones, these children beloved
of my heart, are "become, as it were, strangers to me. Thia
God sees. It is to him I offer them to his care I confide
them. May his holy will be done in all things ! I no longer
love anything, nor any creature : henceforth the Great
Creator alone possesses my heart." Inflamed with this
heroic love, Elizabeth thought herself sufficiently well-dis-
posed to make her vows and to take the habit consecratec
by her glorious models, St. Francis and St. Clare. "If I
could," said she, "find a rule poorer than that of Clare,
I would embrace it, to console myself for not being allowed
to enter her Order. But I know of none such." She se
lected for this ceremony the Church of the Friars Minors,
and the feast of Good Friday. The day when Jesus Christ
despoiled of all for our love was nailed to the Cross, and on

PwP^HF^fepf^

OF HUNGARY. 28 J

which the altars are bared and uncovered as He was, to re-
mind the faithful of the Supreme Sacrifice ; and this was the
day that Elizabeth preferred in her tarn to renounce all things,
and to rend the last ties that bound her to earth, in order to
follow more perfectly the Spouse of her soul in the ways of
poverty and charity.

Thus on this blessed day, in the presence of her children,
her friends, and several Franciscan Fathers, she came to lay
her holy bands on the bare Altar stone, and there vowed to
renounce her will, her children, her relations, her companions,
and all the pomps and pleasures of this world.

Brother Burkhard, Guardian of the Friars Minors of HessB,
who looked upon Elizabeth as his spiritual child and friend,
cut off her hair, clothed her with, the grey robe, and girded
her with the cord which was the distinctive mark of the order
of St. Francis, whilst Master Conrad celebrated Mass. She
wore this costume, and ever after went barefooted. From this
moment, too, as if to obliterate the remembrance of her past
grandeur, she substituted on her seal the figure of a bare-
footed Franciscan religious in place of the armorial bearings
of her husband's family and her own.

G-uta, her maid of honour, who had been her faithful and
inseparable companion from childhood, was now unwilling to
lead a different kind of life from that of her dear mistress.
She also assumed the habit of the Third Order, and solemnly
renewed the vow of chastity which she had made some years
before during the life of Duke Louis. This community of life
and feeling was. to Elizabeth a consolation, which she proba-
bly would have denied herself, had she been aware of Gruta'a
intention ; it was one, however, of which she was very soon
deprived.

But now it became necessary to part with her children,
whom she reproached herself for loving too ardently. Her
iou Hermann, her first-born, and heir to the sovereignty of

289 I IFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

his father's possessions, at this time between six and seven
years of age, was sent to the castle of Creutzburg, to remain
it good and safe keeping until he should be old enough to
assume the reins of government, which were then held by his
ancle, as regent.

It is probable that the same place was also the home of
her eldest daughter, Sophia, already affianced to the young
Duke of Brabant. Her second daughter, Sophia, returned
to the abbey of Kitzingen, where she was to take the veil,
and whore she remained during her whole life. The youngest
of all, the little Gertrude, scarcely two years old, born after
her father's death, was sent to the convent of the Premon-
stratensiau nuns of Aldenburg, near Wetzlar. Every one
was astonished that this young princess should be placed in a
poor and newly founded house, and some severely reproached
Elizabeth for it, but she answered them that she did so
according to the agreement made between her husband and
herself at the moment of parting, even before the birth of the
child. " It was heaven," said she, " that inspired us to
choose that monastery, for it wills that my child shall con-
tribute to the spiritual and temporal advancement of that
holy house." Now, indeed, was her sacrifice perfect her
entire separation from the world consummated, by one of those
efforts which even exceed the precepts of Christian duty.
There remained no longer anything for her to renounce all
in this world was dead to her at the age of twenty-two
years she could say with the Apostle, " / live, but it is no
longer I who live, but it is Jesus Christ who Jives in me."
Gal. ii. 20.

And the world, and its powerful ones, who still pursued
her with their hatred, awaited but this moment to redouble
their insulting attacks. The wise and great people of the
time had but one voice to proclaim aloud the madness of this
spouse of Christ, and they were- not deceived, for she had

j$jlK$r&Wi*?^

OF HUNGARY. 283

Indeed comprehended and embraced in its fullest extent the
*>r/ed folly of the cross.

What the courtiers of Thuringia then said is, and doubtless
rill be, often repeated by those who, having admired the
poetic history of her early years, are amazed and shocked at
this decisive crisis in her life. "What'" say they, "still so
young, and having so many duties to perform so much of
'jawful happiness to enjoy, to choose so extraordinary an exist-
ence ! to impose on herself such unnecessary penance ! to
renounce the care of her children,. and all the duties of her
position in society !" And many other futile reasons in which
this wordly wisdom is so rich, that it but knows how to ca-
lumniate all that is above the comprehension of its selfishness,
or stronger than its weakness.

Faithful souls ! shall these be our thoughts in contemplating
the triumphs of this Christian heroine. If, because we are
too weak to imitate or to follow her, shall we be blind enough
not to admire her virtues ? Shall we not bow with a tender
respect before these secrets of divine love, this absolute t)be-
dience to the words of our Saviour, '\If any man come to me
and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children,
and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot
be my disciple." St. Luke, xiv. 26.

We must not be surprised that the world should despise
and insult her, for, following Christ, she conquered the world.
In the war that it wages from earliest youth with the soul
redeemed by the blood of God, she had bravely fought ; with
her weak hand she took up the gauntlet in the lists, and
fearlessly engaged in the conflict, avoiding not its wounds,
but living in the midst of attacks and innumerable snares,
At an age when so many faults are excusable from inexpe
rience, she had already condemned the rash judgments of this
world, with its prejudices and its falsehoods. She had denied
its rights over her, braved its calumnies, scorned its contempt

284 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

She vanquished it in every place and at every time in the
riches and splendour of a court, as well as in the bitterness
of hunger pinched poverty in the most cherished affections!
of the heart, as well as in its most severe trials, in anguish,
desolation, and death. Neither the ties of conjugal life, nor
the maternal love of her heart, nor even reputation, the last
of earthly treasures, was over prized by her. And if now-
she retired from her foe, it was because she had been victo-
rious in the struggle. Entering the battle-field in her child-
hood, she left it not until she had completely vanquished her
enemy.

Now that she had overcome the wiles of the wicked ser-
pent, it was permitted to her to lay down her arms, and to
await, surrounded by the mysterious joys of poverty and obe-
dience, the day of Eternal triumph.

OF HUNOART. 285

CHAPTER XIY.

<F THE GREAT POVERTY IN WHICH THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH
1IVEI>> AND HOW SHE ADVANCED IN HUMILITY AND MERCY .TO-
WARDS ALL CREATURES.

"Msnuin suam misit v. fortia et digit! ejns apprehenderunc fusam. Manna
luam aporuit inopi et palmas snas extendit ad pauperem." Prov. xxxi. 19, 20.

" Amen, dice vobis, quamdiu fecistis uni ex his fratribus mei minimis, mihi feoto-
tis." & Mntth. v. 40.

" Elegi abjectus ease." Ps. Ixxxiii. 1 1.

ELIZABETH, devoted alone to God, wished that the volun-
tary poverty she had embraced should be as complete as pos-
sible ; she was anxious that all should correspond with the
poor cottage* she had chosen for her dwelling-place. She
consecrated all the revenues that Master Conrad obliged her
to retain nominally, to the relief of the poor, and to the sus-
tainment of charitable institutions.

Not having succeeded in obtaining her confessor's permis-
sion to seek her daily food from the charitable, she resolved
to earn her livelihood by the labour of her hands. For this
purpose she could spin wool, not being able to spin flax. She
used to get from the monastery of Altenberg wool for her
work, and, when it was all spun, she used to send it to th
nuns, who paid her for her labour, but not always to the full
value. She, on the contrary, was scrupulously exact in per-
forming her task. One day that she had received payment
in advance for a certain quantity of work, Master Conrad sent
for her to go with him from Marburg to Eisenach ; seeing
that she could not spin all the wool, she sent the little that
remained undone, with .the yarn, t3 the convent, and with \\

286 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH, .

a Cologne penny, lest she might be accused cf taking too
much money for her labour. She worked so incessantly, that
even when weakness or illness confined her to* bed, and when
her companions took away the distaff, that she might have some
rest, to avoid idleness she used to disentangle and arrange wool
for future use. She earned by this means sufficient to make
her offerings to the churches, and to provide for her support.
Nothing could be coarser or more simple than her food. If
any brought her anything delicate or savoury, she used at once
to send it to some poor person in her hospital without even
tasting of it. Still she neglected not the counsels of Chris-
tian prudence in this matter, for she begged of her physician
to point out "what the exact limits of her abstinence ought to
be, lest by fasting too severely she should bring upon herself
infirmities which would prevent her from serving God well,
and for which He would call her to a strict account ; yet she
was very frequently ill.

She most generally eat vegetables boiled in pure water,
without salt, and, well or ill, she prepared them herself.
While she was thus occupied in the cares of her house, she
ceased not to elevate her soul to God in prayer and medita-
tion ; and often when alone by the fireside, either engaged in
cooking, or when she approached to warm herself, so absorbed
used she to be in contemplation that sparks and cinders would
sometimes fall upon her garments and burn them without her
knowledge, though, when her companions would return, they
would feel almost suffocated by the smoke and odour of the
burning stuff.

Tier clothing might be compared to her food in its poverty.
She generally wore a robe of undyed cloth, such as was used
by the peasantry and the poorest classes only ; this robe waa
often torn and patched, and was confined round her waist by
a coarse cord. Her mantle, of the same stuff as her gown,
had become too short, and was lengthened by a piece of

OF HUNG ART. 28*7

anotler colour. Whenever she found scraps of cloth sh
used to gather them up, to mend the rents and burns on
her garments, with her own hands, though she did notwel.
know how to sew. She feared not to go out in this costume,
and this confirmed profane men in the opinion they had
conceived of her insanity ; whilst pious souls looked upon'
her as a second Saint Clare. And wretched as these clothes
were, she frequently deprived herself of them to give them to
poor people, so that through, the intense cold of winter she
was often obliged to remain by her humble hearth, or to lie
under her scanty bed-covering, when she would say, " Here
am I resting as if in my coffin," and this new trial was to her
a source of pure joy.

Enduring all these privations she never lost the amiability
of -her character, nor the affability, nor extreme and continual
goodness in her manners to all, by which she had ever been
distinguished. From her childhood she had preferred the
society of the poor and humble to any other ; and now in her
pious retreat she treated not only these maids of honour who
would not part from her, but also the servants appointed by
Master Conrad, with tender and sweet cordiality.

She wished that not one of them, however low her extrac-
tion might have been, should give her any title of distinction,
. but should simply call her by her baptismal name, Elizabeth ;
and also that when addressing her they should use the pro-
nouns Thee and Thou, as if speaking to an equal or to an in
ferior.

She endeavoured rather to serve them than to be served
by them. This daughter of Kings took a pleasure in perform-
ing their menial offices such as washing the utensils of her .
house. In order to perform, without incurring remarks,
these works servile in the eyes of men, but ennobled befora
God by sublime humility, she used to give various com
missions to her attendants, and when they had returned aftei

288 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

executing them, they would find that their mistress .had done
all their work. After having prepared her repasts, as we have
seen, she would make them sit by her at table and eat from
the same plate. One of them, named Irmengarde, who related
these matters to the ecclesiastical judges, amazed at the sight
of so much humility in a princess formerly so powerful, sahl
to her one day : " Surely, madam, you acquire great merit
by your conduct towards us, but you forget the danger to
which you expose us, that of filling us with pride, by per-
mitting us to eat with you, and to sit by your side." To
which the Duchess replied : " Ah, since it is thus with thee,
thou must even come and sit upon my knees," and taking
Irmengarde in her arms, she placed her as she had said.
Her patience and charity were beyond measure ; nothing could
irritate or provoke her to give way to the least discontent.
She spoke frequently and for a long time with her companions ;
the heavenly sweetness and gaiety of her heart, as it were,
flowed over, in these familiar conversations, which were most
profitable to the souls of those who listened to her. But she
could not bear that any one should utter in her presence words
of vanity or levity, or that they should give way to anger or
impatience ; she would interrupt them always, saying, " Well,
where is our Lord now ? and she would reprove the guilty
one with an authority tempered by grace and gentleness.

In the midst of this life, apparently so mortified and hum-
ble, but so glorious before God, and so fruitful in ineffable joys
to her who had devoted herself so entirely to Him, Elizabeth
could not forget what was to her, after the care of her soul's
salvation, the first and only interest of her terrestrial life, the
comfort of her poor and afflicted brethren. Having renounced
all, more surely to find Jesus in Heaven, she could not neglect
his suffering members on earth. Not contented with devoting
to the use and comfort of the poor the entire proceeds of hei
property, so far as that she reserved not for herself as much

OF HUNGARY. 289

as would serve to sustain life, and that her Director was
obliged to set a limit to her expenditure ; she, as in early
years, sought by her cares to alleviate still farther their inise
ries by cleansing the sores and wounds of their bodies, and
pouring the balm of consolation into their weary hearts.
When she arrived at Marburg her first care was to erect an
hospital, which she dedicated to the memory of St. Francis
of Assisiuin, according to the injunction of Pope Gregory
IX. The pontiff, who had just canonized that angelic man,
thought it right, on the occasion of the translation of his body,
to send to his intrepid and faithful imitatrix, a present far
more precious than the mantle which she formerly received
with so much gratitude ; and this present consisted of some
drops of the blood which flowed from the wound in the side
of St. Francis, when he received the sacred stigmata. Eliza-
beth received this blessed gift in the same spirit that inspired
the Pope to send it to her, and looked upon it as a new pledge
of her alliance with and affection for him who from amongst
all other men had followed most closely in the footsteps of our
Redeemer. She thought she could not better dispose of this
holy relic than to enshrine it in the hospital, to the service of
which she intended to dedicate the remainder of her life.

As soon as this asylum was completed, she placed therein
the greatest possible number of the sick. Every day, accom-
panied by her two faithful friends and sisters in religion, Guta
and Ysentrude, she used to go and spend many hours amongst
the patients, cleansing and dressing them, and administering
to them the prescribed remedies ; and above all, consoling
each one with the most affectionate exhortations adapted to
his state of corporal sufferings or the spiritual wants of his
soul. It was not the charitable instincts of her heart, or the
necessity of gratifying her desire of comforting her neighbour
alone, that she seemed to obey, but as if she strove to find in
these works of mercy another means of immolating her flesh ao
13

290 LIJFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

often conquered, she transformed them into mortifications of a
new and extraordinary kind ; and we can hardly discriminate
which held the greatest sway in her heart, the love of her
neighbour, or the hatred of that body of sin which alone
separated her from her divine Saviour. She was not alone
the consolatrix of the poor, bnt even their slave, and no ser-
vice appeared to her to be too repulsive, too difficult, too mean,
for each one of them was, in her eyes, the living image of the
Heavenly Spouse of her soul. Those amongst the sick whose
disorders inspired all with disgust, and drove every one from
them, became the objects of her care and tenderness, and her
royal hands rendered to them every assistance. She spoke to
them with familiarity, and often kissed their ulcers and fright-
ful sores. In the memory of man was never heard of so won-
derful a triumph over the repugnance of the senses, united to
so much ardonr and perseverance in the practice of the most
humble devotion. All were astonished that such a life (the
like of which had never been heard of, even in the histories
of the saints) should have been voluntarily chosen by the
daughter of a king ; but the Spirit from above inspired her
with that holy violence to which the kingdom of Heaven has
been promised as a reward.

Such practices were far from obtaining for her universal
sympathy or approbation, and there were found even pious
people to say that she went too far ; but she had too fully
conquered herself to shrink before the opinions of men. One
day when going to the Church she met a poor man whom she
brought home, and whose hands and feet she washed : this
time, the occupation so disgusted her that she shuddered, but
immediately she repressed this feeling and said to herself,.
" Ah, ugly mouth, so thou dislikest this know then that it
is a salutary drink ;" so saying she drank the water she had
just used, and added : " Oh, Lord, when you were on the
Cross, you tasted vinegar and gall I am not worthy of that

fljIIIIPI^^

OF HUNGARY.

Aid me to become more worthy of partaking your sufferings/
Lepers, who on account of the so easily spread contagion of
their fearful malady, were objects of horror to mankind in
general, were on this account more beloved and tenderly
cared for by her. She bathed them herself, and often cut up
curtains and other precious cloths to dry them after leaving
the bath ; she made their beds and laid them in them. " 1
how happy are we," said she one day to her attendants, " to
be able thus to cleanse and clothe our Lord !" To which one
of them replied : " You, madam, may surely find it agreeable,
but I know not if others would like it as well."

Master Conrad thought that her charity led her beyond
the limits of Christian prudence, and he forbade her to touch
or to kiss the sores of the lepers, or other sick people, lest she
should contract their maladies, but this precaution failed, for
the grief that prohibition caused to her compassionate heart
was so great that she fell seriously ill.

But it was not alone to the corporal necessities of her
brethren that this ardent disciple of Christ confined her soli-
citude and benevolence she never lost sight of the weal of,
and spiritual remedies for their souls. She added to the
tender care she always gave them, pious and frequent exhort-
ations. She watched carefully that poor people should have
their children baptized immediately after birth, and that all
the sick should ask for and receive the holy Sacraments, not
alone at their last hour, but also when they entered the hos-
pital. Though her own example, added to these exhortations,
should have been all-powerful, yet she sometimes met with
resistance from souls embittered by misfortune, or rendered
tepid by a long absence from their duties as members of the
Church ; then did she unite the energy of Christian zeal to
her habitual sweetness.

One day a blind man presented himself at the hospital and
demanded admittance. Elizabeth came np at the same mo

292 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

dent, accompanied by Master Conrad ; she joyfully consented
to the poor man's admission on condition that he would com-
mence by healing the wounds of his soul, and approach the
tribunal of penance. But the blind man, impatient from his
malady, and annoyed by this exhortation, began to blaspheme
and to curse such superstitious customs, as he called them ;
Elizabeth, indignant at such language, reproved him with
such vehemence that he was suddenly touched with compunc-
tion, and kneeling, he immediately confessed his sins to Mas-
ter Conrad.

Far from confining the exercise of her benevolence to this
hospital, Elizabeth, attended by her maidens, was in the
habit of visiting the huts of the poor people in the neighbour-
hood of Marbourg, and at the same time of bringing to them
bread, meat, and other food which she distributed herself.
With a deep interest she inquired even into the most trifling
details of their manner of living, and carefully examined their
clothes and bed-covering, that she might know what would
be most suitable to relieve their wants.

She distributed amongst them all the money she had re-
ceived for her jewels, rings, silken vesture, and other remnants
of her worldly life, which she had secretly sold. She was
always ready to perform even the most menial offices for these
poor people and to supply their least wants. One day in
winter a sick woman asked her for some fish ; Elizabeth ran
immediately to a neighbouring stream, invoking thus the
Divine Provider of all good: "Lord Jesus Christ, if it be
your will, send me some fish .for your suffering one." And
having searched the water she found therein a large fish, with
which she hastened to gratify her patient.

When on her benevolent missions she met with any crea-
ture whose weakness or state of suffering seemed to her tc
require a special exercise of compassion, or if their devotion
or resignation was more perfect than that of other patients,

plin^&^^H^^

' ' ''' " "

OF HUNGARY. 293

would bring them not only to her hospital, but even intt
her own dwelling, there to nurse them with the tenderes*
care, and to make them sit at her own table. Conrad remoii
strated with her on this subject, but she replied to him, " C
my dear Master, leave them to me ! Remember my past lift
in the pride and pomp of the world ; we must cure an evil bj
its contrary virtue. I must now live with the poor and hum
ble ; this society is fruitful in graces to me, let me enjoy it."

One of those whom she thus adopted was a little boy,
without father or mother a paralytic from his birth, one-
eyed, and suffering always from a most repulsive malady.
This poor being, overwhelmed with so much misery, received
from her more than a mother's care. She used to pass
whole nights watching by his side, rendering to him the
most humiliating services, and tenderly consoling him with
the most affectionate words.

He died, and was succeeded in her care by a young girl .
stricken with a leprosy so fearful, that in the hospital no one
would dare to touch her, nor even to look at her. As soon
as Elizabeth saw her she approached with a pious veneration
as if it was the Lord who had deigned to present Himself to
her concealed in the person of this poor creature under a veil
of sorrows ; the Princess knelt before her, and notwithstand-
ing the child's resistance, she took off her shoes, and began to
bathe the ulcers, to anoint them with the prescribed remedies,
to cut off the toe and finger nails, and altogether to tend her
with such pious skill that the condition of the patient rapidly
improved. After removing her to her own dwelling, Eliza-
beth used to spend many hours by her bed-side, playing with
her to attract her attention from her suffering, and alwaya
speaking to her in language the most consoling. However,
when Conrad learned the conduct of his penitent, he removed
the leper from her, lest she should catch the disorder, and for
this excess of zeal imposed on her a penance so severe that he

;.;-;-; '^r; : : \--_-fsr'*^-X::r^X<^

294 LIFE OP ST. ELIZABETH,

afterwards thought himself bound to repent of it to the Pope,

But Elizabeth, whose indefatigable ardour nothing could
discourage, replaced her patient by a little child, afflicted
with a complaint almost as revolting as the leprosy and this
child she treated with a care and skill with which Charity
alone, that supreme science, could inspire her. She kept this
patient with her until her death.

Still the lepers were the objects of her predilection, we
might almost say of her envy, as no other sickness so com-
pletely detached its victims from this life.

Brother Gerard, Provincial of the Franciscans in Germany
and who was, after Master Conrad, the friend to whom she
most intimately confided her pious thoughts, came to visit
ner one day, and she began to speak of the joys of holy
poverty towards the end of their discourse she said : " Ah,
Father, what in my heart I would like best, would be to be
treated like a leper. I would wish . to be x given a straw-
thatched hovel, like those in which people place such suf-
ferers, and that it would have before the door a rag, and a
little box into which the passers-by might sometimes throw an
alms." At these words she fell into a kind of ecstasy, during
which the Father Provincial who raised her from the Aground
heard her chaunting hymns. Soon after this she was restored
to her usual state of being.

We may be permitted to embody in this recital some
account of how persons stricken with leprosy, and the disor-
der itself, were considered and treated during Catholic ages,
particularly as our doing so will more clearly explain the
meaning of the words above recorded, as uttered by our dear
paint.

In these times of universal faith, Religion was the absolute
sovereign of society, and consequently was enabled to meet
erery e\ il with some remedy, and from extreme human mi-
eery she cultivated all the noble feelings of piety and charity

f^;i?-f&?(t*S;f : K&^^S^^.'WfyKf'S* 'Sg^s&Zr-i T &* :?sy3^>

OF HUNGARY. 295

in Christian souls. Not being able to resist the deplorable
material sufferings which were sure to result from the fearful
malady, she was, at least, omnipotent in destroying the moral
reprobation, which in later times would be sure to attach
itself to the unhappy victims of this disorder so the Church,
in a manner, consecrated them, as the representatives of the
burthen of human sorrow, from which Jesus Christ had
rescued mankind, and which this holy Mother taught
her children to revere in the persons of their thus afflicted
brethren.

Leprosy, then, was at this time a something sacred in the
sight of the Church and 'the people it was a gift from God,
a special distinction, even as it were, a mark of Divine atten-
tion. The hand of God, the ever just and merciful Father,
had touched a Christian had stricken His child in a myste-
rious manner, and one to heal which human science was un-
availing ; thenceforth there was something venerable in his
affliction. Solitude, reflection and retreat with God alone
became necessary for a leper, but the love and prayers of his
brethren followed him to his retirement.

The Church knew how to reconcile the most tender solici-
tude for these her suffering children, with the measures
required to ensure the health of all, by preventing the spread
of contagion. Perhaps there is not in her Liturgy a more
affecting and solemn ceremonial than that called Separatio
Leprosorum, which she used when separating one stricken by
God, in towns where there was no leper-hospital. In his
presence the Mass for the Dead was celebrated, and all the
furniture and utensils required for him were blessed, after
which every one present gave an alms, and the clergy, pre-
ceded by a Cross-bearer, and accompanied by all the faithful,
conducted him to the solitary hut assigned to him for a dwell-
ing place. On the roof of this house the priest laid some
consecrated earth from a burial ground saving,

t96 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

"Sis mortuus mundo, vivens iterum Deo."
" Be thou dead to the world, living again to God."

The priest then addressed to him a consolatory discourse
wherein he depicted the joys of Paradise, and the community
of spirit with the Church whose prayers would be more un-
ceasingly offered for him in solitude than before. \

Then he erected a wooden cross before the door, and ap-
pended to it a little box for alms, after which every one went
away. At Easter only, the lepers were permitted to leave
their tombs, in commemoration of Christ's resurrection, when
they might enter into villages and towns to- share in the
universal joy of Christendom. When these sufferers died in
isolation, the Church celebrated their obsequies with the office
for Confessors not Bishops.

The feelings of the Church were always responded to by her
children. Hence the lepers received from the people the most
affectionate and consoling names. They called them, " God's
own sick ones God's dear poor The good people." They
loved to remember that Jesus Christ Himself had been pre-
figured as a leper by the Holy Spirit, " Et nos putavimus
eum quasi leprosum ; n that He was the guest of a leper when
Mary Magdalene poured on him the precious ointment and
washed his feet with her tears ; that he had chosen the
leper Lazarus as the type of the elect soul ; and that He had
frequently assumed that form when appearing to his saints on
earth, as we read in the legends of St. Julian, St. Leo IX.,
pope, St. Martyrius, &c. &c. Besides this, also, it was from
the Pilgrimages to the Holy Land and the Crusades tbat the
leprosy was brought into Europe, and this derivation added
to its sacred character.

An order of knights had been formed at Jerusalem, that of
St. Lazarus, to consecrate itself exclusively to the service of
lepers, one of whom was chosen its Grand Master ; and an
order of women had consecrated themselves to the same

OF HUNGARY. 297

object in the same city, at the Hospice of St. John the
almoner.

Amongst the sovereigns and nobles of the earth, our Eliza-
beth was not the only one of royal race who honoured Christ
in these successors of Lazarus illustrious and powerful
princes regarded this duty as one of the prerogatives of their
crowns. Robert, king of France, incessantly visited their
hospitals. St. Louis treated them with fraternal affection,
visited them at the Quarter Tenses, and kissed their ulcers.
Henry III. of England did the same. The Countess Sybella
of Flanders, having accompanied her husband Theodoric to the
Holy Land, employed the time while he was fighting against
the infidels, in the above-mentioned hospital of St. John,
tending the lepers. One day, as she bathed their sores, she
felt, as once did our Elizabeth, her senses revolting against so
unpleasing an occupation ; to chastise herself she took some
of the water in her mouth and swallowed it saying, " Thou
must learn to serve Grod in His poor, it is a good occupation
for thee, why then dost thou permit thy heart to shrink from
it ?" When her husband was leaving Palestine, she requested
his permission to remain there, in order to devote the remain-
der of herlife to the service of the lepers.

Her brother, Baldwin III., king of Jerusalem, joined his
prayers to those of this heroine of charity ; the Count resisted
for a long time, and did not consent to part from Sybella
until he had received from his brother-in-law, as a recompense
for his sacrifice, a priceless relic, a drop of blood from our
Lord's sacred body, saved by Joseph of Arimathea at the
taking down from the Cross. He returned alone to his coun-
try, carrying with him this sacred* treasure, which he enshrined
at Bruges, and the pious people of Flanders heard, with great
veneration, how their Count had sold his wife to Christ and
His poor, and how he received as her price the blood of theii
God.

298 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

But above all, the saints of the middle ages are those who
treated lepers with a sublime devotion.

St. Catherine of Sienna had her hands affected with it
while attending a poor old woman who was its victim ; but
after persevering to the end in her uoble sacrifice, and bury-
leg her poor patient, her hands became as pure and white as
those of a little child, and a halo of mild light played around
the parts that had been most affected. St. Francis of Assis-
ium and St. Clare his noble companion, St. Odila of Alsace,
St. Judith of Poland, St. Edmund of Canterbury, and later
still, St. Francis Xavier, and St. Jane Frances de Chantal,
took pleasure in humbly serving the lepers ; and often the
prayers of these holy souls obtained for the afflicted ones an
instantaneous cure.

In this glorious company Elizabeth had already taken her
place, by the unceasing aspirings of her soul to Grod who was
ever present to her in the persons of the poor. But whilst
awaiting her summons to a blissful eternity with them, no-
thing could satiate the desires of her compassionate heart,
iior soothe the languishing of her soul, so often suffering from
the contemplation of the miseries of her fellow creatures.

ff^?S3y^^H^^?^^

OF HUNGARY.

CHAPTER XXV.

OW TUB DEAR ST. ELIZABETH REFUSED TO RETURN TO HER FATHER'S
KINGDOM, IN ORDER THAT SHE MIGHT MORE SURELY ENTER THE
KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.

"Eegnum inundi et omnem ornatum sseculi contempsi propter amorem Doinint
mei Jesu Christ!, quem vidi, quern amavi, in quern credidi, quern dilexi." Homan
Breviary,

" In nidulo meo moriar." Job sxis. IS.

IN the mean time the King of Hungary, the rich and
powerful father of this poor nursing mother of the sick, heard
from the Hungarian pilgrims who returned from Aix la
Chapelle and other holy places on the banks of the Rhine,
of the state of poverty and desolation to which his daughter
was reduced. They related to him how shocked they were
to find that their princess lived without honours, without a
court, without the least possible mark of her royal rank.

The king was alarmed and moved even to tears on learning
this story, he complained before his council of the injuries
done his child, and resolved to send an ambassador to bring
her to him. He confided this mission to Count Banfi ; this
noble set out for Thuringia, and soon arrived at Wartbourg.
He there found the Landgrave Henry, and demanded from
him the reason of the extraordinary position wherein the
Duchess was placed The Prince thus replied to him : " My
sister has become quite mad, every one knows it, you will
gee it yourself." He then related to the Count how she had
retired to Marburg, the extraordinary life she led there, tend-
ing the lepers and associating only with the poor, with many
other details of this kind.

He pointed out to the Ambassador how Elizabeth's poverty
was quite voluntary, as he had ensured to her the posses*

300 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

sion of all she could desire. The Count was astonished, and
set out for Marburg. When he arrived there he asked the
inn-keeper with whom he stopped, what he thought of the
Lady named Elizabeth who had come from Hungary to this
country ; why lived she thus in misery ; why she quitted
the princes of her late husband's family ; and whether there
was any charge against hei honour. " She is a most pious
lady and right virtuous," replied the inn-keeper, " she is as .
rich as she can wish to be, for this city and its neighbourhood,
which is extensive, is her sole property ; and if she wished,
she could have chosen from amongst many princes a spouse.
But in her great humility she lives thus in misery, she would
not dwell in the city, but remains near the hospital which she
built, for she despises all this world's wealth. God conferred
on us a great favour in sending to us this pious lady, it is
profitable to the salvation of all even to come in contact with
her. She never wearies in her works of charity, she is most
chaste, most gentle, most merciful, but beyond all, she is
the most humble woman in the world.

The Count then asked this good man to bring him to her ;
when arrived the inn-keeper went in first and said : " Madam,
here is one of your friends seeking you, and who I think
wishes to speak to you." The Ambassador having entered the
hut, and seeing the daughter of his royal master engaged at
work, was so affected that he burst into tears, and making
-the sign of the 'Cross he cried out, "Did any one ever before
see a king's daughter spinning wool ?" Being seated then
beside her he began to tell how her father had sent him to
seek her, and to bring her back to the country wherein she
was born, where she would be treated with all the honour
due to her rank, and where the king would ever regard her
as his best beloved child. But she listened not to hi<3 persua-
sions. "For what do you take me ?" said she to him, " I
am but a poor sinner who never obeyed tho law of God as I

il^f^-fSS^/fKi^^C:^^^

OF HUNGARY. 301

ought to have done." "And who has reduced you to this
state of misery?" asked the Count. "No one," replied she,
"but the infinitely rich Son of my Heavenly Father, who has
taught me by his example to despise riches and to love pov-
erty beyond all the kingdoms of this world." And then she
told him her history since her widowhood, and her inten-
tions for her future life. She assured him that she had no
reason to complain of any one, that she wanted not for any-
thing, and that she was perfectly happy.

Notwithstanding this contentment, the Count strove to
induce her to accompany him. "Come," said he, "noble
Queen, come with me to your dear father, come, possess
your kingdom and your inheritance." "I hope indeed,"
replied she, " that I already possess my Father's inheritance,
that is to say, the eternal mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Still the Ambassador entreated of her not to afflict her
royal father by leading a life so unworthy of her rank, and
not to grieve him by refusing to accede to his hope that she
would return to him. " Say to my dearest lord and father,"
replied Elizabeth, " that I am more happy in this contemp-
tible life than he is in his regal pomp, and that far from sor-
rowing over me, he ought to rejoice that he has a child in the
service of the King of Heaven. All that I ask of him is to
pray, and to have prayers offered for me, and I will cease-
lessly pray for him as long as life is left me."

The Count seeing that all his efforts were vain, took leave
of her with sincere grief. But she returned to her spindle,
happy to be able, as she had renounced all for Jesus, to re-
alize in anticipation the sublime words which the Church uses
in the office of holy women :

" The kingdom of this world and all the vanities of the
age have I despised for the love of my Lord Jesus Christ,
Him whom I have seen, whom I have loved, in whom I have
relieved, and whom I have preferred."

302 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER

HOW TEE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH DISTRIBUTED ALL HER PROPERTY

AMONGST THE POOR.

"81 dederit homo orunem substantiam domus ejus pro dllectlone, quasi nlfcl
despiciet earn." Cantic. viii. 7.

" Galore charitatis
Calefacti pauperes
Jnxta prunas nuditatis
Lsetantur immemores."

Anthem of St. Elizabeth, in the ancient.
Breviary of the Dominicans.

HOWEVER convinced the Landgrave Henry might have
been of the folly of his sister-in-law, he did not think himself
the less obliged to fulfil the promises he had of his free will
made to her ; the fear of the Pope who had constituted himself
Elizabeth's protector, and the influence of Conrad of Mar-
burg, which was as great over him as it had been over his
brother Louis, might have contributed to this fidelity. He
sent her then the five hundred marks of silver that he had
promised at the time of her departure from Wartbourg to
defray the expense incurred in forming her new establishment.

This increase of riches appeared to the charitable princess
as a favourable opportunity for realizing a project which she
had long entertained, namely, that of throwing off the care of
the wealth which she held as her private property by depriving
herself of the means of enjoying it.

Eegardless of the order of Master Conrad, and perhaps
anknown to him, she had parted with all that her brother-in-
law had been obliged to restore to her at the return of the
Crusader knights, and this produced the very considerable

Ill^QSpS^^SfP^

OF HUNGARY. 30?

inm, for those times, of two thousand marks. "She endea-
voured," says one of her pious historians, "to use the changeful
riches of this werld in such a manner, as would tend to purchase
for her the changeless happiness of eternal life." She sold all
the jewels that remained in her possession, and all the pre-
sents that had been sent her by her relatives in Hungary ;
amongst them, vases of gold and silver, stuffs embroidered in
gold and some ornaments set with gems of the highest value.
All the money that she received for these, as well as what she
derived from her domains, she distributed amongst the poor
at different times, and so abundantly, that it gained for her
the reputation of being wasteful and even mad, from those
who stood not in need of her assistance. But she was not
grieved by this, for she knew that it was good to buy her
eternal salvation by sacrificing these perishable riches. When
she received the five hundred marks from Puke Henry, she
resolved to give it all away at one time. To give her charity
an extension proportionate to the sum of which she had to"
dispose, she had published in every place for twenty-five
leagues around Marburg, that all the poor were to assemble
on a certain day in a plain near Wehrda, that village wherein
she had passed the first days of her voluntary poverty.

At the appointed tune there came there several thousand
mendicants, blind, lame and infirm of both sexes ; and in
addition a vast crowd to witness this extraordinary spectacle.
To maintain order in this multitude the Duchess had appointed
officers, robust men, whose duty it was to keep all in their
places, so that thus strict justice was established in distribut-
ing the alms equally amongst the poor, who were too frequently
fude and impatient, and care was ta,ken that none could apply
twice, thus to deprive some other of his destined portion.
Elizabeth ordered that any one who should transgress this
rule by leaving a place, should have his or her hair cut off
immediately.

304 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

A young girl named Radegonda, remarkable for the
beauty of her hair, having been discovered leaving her
place, was deprived of the fair ringlets, which, according
to the custom of the maidens of Marburg, she wore flowing
down over her shoulders. Radegouda began to weep and cry
out loudly. She was brought before the Duchess, who at first
congratulated her on being, from the loss of her tresses, no
longer able to share in profane rejoicings ; and then with the
profound instinct of holy souls, Elizabeth asked her if ever
she had entertained the project of leading a better life. Ra-
degonda replied : " A long time ago I would have consecrated
myself to the Lord by assuming the religious habit, if it were
not too great an effort to sacrifice the beauty of uiy hair."
At these words Elizabeth cried out joyfully : " I am happier
then that they have cut away thy curls, than if J heard that
my son was elected Emperor of the Romans." She then took
with her this young girl, who, profiting of the warning in-
voluntarily received that day, consecrated herself to the
service of God and of the poor in the hospital founded by the
Duchess.

Meanwhile the announced distribution was made by steady
and faithful men whom Elizabeth had appointed for the pur-
pose. She presided over all, and went from rank to rank
girded round with a cloth, as was our Lord when he minis-
tered to his disciples. She wandered amongst the vast
assemblage, glorying in and enjoying the happiness of which
she was the cause her face serene and tranquil, gladness in
her heart, gentle and affectionate words upon her lips, parti-
cularly when addressing the strangers whom she saw for the
first time, adding a sweet gaiety to her compassion, a celes-
tial simplicity to her boundless generosity, finding at every
step new comfort for new sorrows. This daughter of a king
found herself at length in the midst of a court that well
pleased her, truly Queen of that day by her mercy ; there was

< * r-

-* 5

OF HUNQART. 305

she in the midst of her army of poor, as an enthroned sove-
reign, and notwithstanding the miserable costume which she
had adopted, to the admiring eyes of those whose griefs she
assuaged, she appeared as brilliant as the sun, and clad ia
garments whiter than the snow.

The five hundred marks distributed, night began to fall,
and the moon rose in unclouded splendour, the poor people
get out to regain their distant homes ; but a great number
were too feeble to be able to depart so soon, and these were
preparing to pass the night in some of the buildings adjacent
to the hospital. Elizabeth at her return perceived them, and
always influenced by her tender compassion, she said to- her
attendants, " Ah, here are some poor creatures, let us give
them something." Upon which she handed to each one six-
pence of Cologne, and gave to the little children amongst
them as much as to the grown people.

Then she sent for a great quantity of bread and distributed
it to them, after which she said, " I wish that these poor
ones should enjoy an entire feast, give them some fire."
According to her orders large fires were kindled, and the at-
tendants washed the feet of the weary travellers. These poor
ones seeing themselves so well treated, rejoiced and began to
sing. Elizabeth hearing their cheerful voices, felt her tender
and innocent heart moved, and cried out joyfully, "I said
indeed that we ought to make these poor people as happy aa
possible," and immediately she went forth to witness their
gladness.

Well, oh, noble and holy soul, did you study the wonder-
ful power of contributing to the happiness of others ! So se-
vere and pitiless to yourself, you were early initiated into the
plenitude of this heart-touching mystery !

The terrestrial bliss that you completely renounced in your
own life, you sought with generous perseverance to bestow
npon your poor brethren 1

306 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

How we rejoice in thinking that in Heaven where you
receive the eternal reward of all fervent charity, you are still
animated by the pious solicitude that replenished your heart
when on earth ! and how consoling it is to us to believe that
the poor souls who, in their sadness and poverty, call upon
you from this world of woe, are not unheeded by this inex-
liaustible pity, which has but acquired redoubled energy and
ardour from your blessed immortality !

O HUNGARY. -.. SQ7 .

CHAPTER XXYII

-1OW THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH LEARNED FROM MASTER CONRAD, HOW
IN ALL THINGS TO DESTROY SELF-WILL.

"Melior est obedlentia quain victim." 1 -Re^. xy. 22.

""Woe to them that disdain to humble themselves willingly with the little children,
for the low gate of the heavenly kingdom will not suffer them to enter thither."
Im. of Christ, B. iii. O. 58.

WE may have thought that nothing now hindered our
Elizabeth from arriving at the end she had so courageously
proposed to herself, the exclusive love of God and of her
brethren in God, and the entire contempt of this world and
all that it contains. Yet in this wonderful path of Christian.
perfection she had still many obstacles to surmount, many
victories, and these the most difficult of all to gain.

It was not sufficient for her to have conquered the love of
this earth and all its fleeting pleasures, she had still to com-
bat against that which it is the greatest task of all to vam-
quish, her own will.

-It became necessary that however pure this will might be,
however eager for Heaven, however detached from terrestrial
matters, it should do nothing of itself, but "that it should
bend before every inspiration of the Divine Will, like an ear
of corn laden with its grains, awaiting the coming of the
Heavenly gleaner to gather it for eternity.

The common Father of the faitl ful had specially charged
one person with the care of this precious soul.

Master Conrad of Marburg well knew what Elizabeth
was capable of doing for God's love, and he resolved to lead
her to the supreme attainment of evangelical perfection, by a

308 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

way, repugnant enough, surely, to these wise times, and still
more so to the sensuality and tepidity of our languid souls,
so utterly unaccustomed to all ideas of lively and practical
faith, but which provoked no marmurs, nor even excited
surprise, in those ages of heartfelt simplicity, of absolute
abandonment, at least in intention, to all that could unite the
soul to God.

We do not here purpose to defend, absolutely, all the con-
duct of Master Conrad towards his illustrious penitent ; the
natural violence of his character, to which he at length fell a
victim, may have often led him beyond the bounds of Chris-
tian moderation ; but we can say that, not only was such
conduct authorized .by numerous examples throughout all
Christian ages, but that even we prefer, rather than to judge
harshly of the character of such a man, to associate ourselves
in the entire submission of this noble princess, who in all
things sought to bend her head to the Divine Yoke, and to
follow in the footsteps of Him " Who for our sakes became
obedient even unto the death of the Cross."

Master Conrad having then resolved to combat and tc
eradicate from the soul of Elizabeth the only source of hu-
man consolation which he could now discover there, com-
menced by attacking her will in the point where it was most
praiseworthy and deep-rooted, namely, in the exercise of all
the works of mercy.

He placed a restriction, a very cruel one to her, upon her
generosity, of which we have related so many signal proofs,
by forbidding her to give any poor person more than one
penny. Before submitting to so unpleasing a command,
Elizabeth sought to eva le it in many ways without being
disobedient. She first had pence struck of silver instead ol
copper, and these she gave as pence, though they were equal
in value to a shilling of the country. The poor people, accus
tomed to her former munificence, soon began to complain of

Spf?p : :^ef^

OF Ht/NGARY. 300

the parsimony of her gifts, but she said to them, " I am for-
bidden to give you more than a penny at one time, but thai
does not hinder me from giving one each time you come."
The mendicants did not fail to profit of this suggestion ; and
after having received the first donation, they would walk
around the hospital and then return for another. This con-
duct they carried to excess.

In place of being affected by these innocent wiles, Conrad
having discovered them was so angry with her as to give her
blows, but she endured this punishment with joy, for during
a long time she had ardently desired to partake of every
insult that her Divine Saviour had endured before He died
for her salvation.

Conrad then prohibited her from giving away money at all,
but he permitted her to distribute bread. Soon, however, he
discovered that she was too prodigal of this species of relief,
and he forbade her to give loaves, but allowed her to share
them in slices. Still later, he made her cease all alms-giving,
and left her no means of exercising her ardent charity, but in
tending the sick and infirm ; and even here he took the pre-
caution of forbidding her all intercourse with those most dear
to her the lepers and when her compassion forced her to
transgress this injunction, he hesitated not to strike her se-
verely. We can imagine the grief that Elizabeth experienced
in finding herself thus deprived of a liberty which during her
whole life had been so precious and so necessary to her, and
in thus seeing a barrier raised between her affectionate pity
and the wants of the unhappy. Nevertheless she felt that her
new duty had assumed the place of all the -others ; she under-
stood that the entire self-denial of which she had made a vow
required that she should give up everything which afforded
her enjoyment or human consolation ; and certainly there was
much of both for her in the practice of alms-giving. She
knew how to make the sacrifice, she learned to obey without

310 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

a murmur, and soon she became well skilled in tho sipreme
science which is to a Christian the achievement of victory.

No fatigue, no trouble seemed too great for her when it
oceanic necessary to conform to the wishes of him whom she
had accustomed herself to regard as the representative of the
Divine Will towards her. No distance seemed too long for
her to travel when he sent for her, yet he used not towards
her any of the inducements that we would be inclined to think
that her sex, her youth, her rank required ; it would appear
as if he strove to make the way of salvation rough and thorny
to her, that she might go before the eternal judge adorned
with more merit.

A French writer says : " The holy man did all he covJd to
conquer her will, to fix all her love upon God, and to forget
her former glory. And in all things she was eager to obey
and firm to endure. In patience she possessed her soul, and
her victory was ennobled by obedience."

This obedience was prompt and perfect, in the least things,
as well as in the greatest.

One day when she had set out to visit a hermit who dwelt
near Marburg, Conrad sent her word to come back irnmedi
ately. She did so, saying smilingly to the messenger, "If
we are wise we will act like the snails, who in time of rain
keep within their shells, let us obey and return at once."
She concealed not the fear that she had of her director, riot
for his own sake, but as God's representative towards her
She used to say to her maidens, " If I so much fear a mor-
tal man, how far more shall I tremble before God who ia
the Lord and judge- of all mankind."

This fear was all spiritual, for' she had given up her will
into his keeping, principally because he was poor and deprived
of all worldly greatness as she wished to be herself. " I have
chosen," she remarked, " the life of the poorest order because
it is the most despised, and had there been one still lower I

OF HUNGARY. 311

would have selected it. I could have made a vow of obe-
dience to a Bishop or to a wealthy Abbot, but I preferred
Master Conrad because he was nothing, he is but a poor
mendicant, and thus I have no resource in this life."

And Master Conrad pitilessly used the power with which
she had invested him. He having been at the convent of
Aldenburg where her daughter Gertrude was, he had an idea
of making Elizabeth enter it, and he sent for her to Marburg
to come and deliberate with him on 1 the subject. She obeyed
his orders. The nuns having heard of her arrival, asked
Master Conrad's permission for her to enter the cloister that
they might see her. He wishing to test her obedience, after
informing her that any person of either sex who crossed the
cloister incurred excommunication, said, "Let her go in "if she
wishes." Elizabeth taking these words for permission, en-
tered the prohibited ground. Conrad made her come out im-
mediately, and showing her the book wherein her vow of obe-
dience to him in all things was inscribed, he ordered a monk
who accompanied him, to inflict on her and on her maid Ir-
mengarde, as a penance, a certain number of blows with a
long stick which he found there. During the execution of
this sentence Conrad chaunted the Miserere, and the Duchess
submitted with supernatural patience to this severe punish-
ment for so trifling a fault.

Speaking of the matter in a little while afterwards to Ir-
mengarde, she said : " We must patiently endure these chas-
tisements, for we are like reeds growing by the water-side
when the river overflows the reed bends and the inundation
passes O7er without breaking it, and when the waters decline
it rises in its strength and enjoys a new life. If we, too,
sometimes bend towards the earth in all humility, we can
arise with new-found joy and confidence.

On another occasion, Conrad preached on the Passion^
that Elizabeth might gain the indulgence granted by the

312 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

Pope to all who would assist at his sermons, as Commissary-
Apostolic. But absorbed in the care of some newly-admitted
patients in her hospital, she neglected going to hear him.
The sermon over, he sent for her, and inquired what she had
been doing, that caused her absence ; and, without giving
her time to reply, he struck her rudely, saying, " Take that,
to remind you to come the next time I send for you." The
humble and patient princess smiled, and was about to excuse
herself, when he struck her so severely as to cause blood to
flow. She raised her eyes to heaven, and kept them fixed
thereon for some time ; then she said, " Lord, I thank thee
for having chosen me for this." Her women came to con-
sole her, and, seeing her garments blood-stained, they asked
her how she had been able to endure so many blows. She
replied, " For having endured them patiently, G-od permitted
me to see Christ in the midst of his angels ; for the Master's
blows elevated me to the third heaven." This saying was
reported to Conrad, and he cried out, " Then I will for ever
regret that I did not transport her to the ninth heaven."

We repeat, that it is not with the thoughts of this nine-
teenth century we must judge of such scenes. The customs
of the ascetic life, of Christian trials, are not the same in
every age of the Church ; but at no time do they merit the
disdain or contempt of the faithful, for they have ever offered
to all souls immortal victories of charity, humility, and self-
denial to gain, and the power of achieving a pure and holy
glory.

Whilst the Supreme Judge weighed in his eternally just
balance this seventy of his minister and this invincible pa-
tience of his humble spouse, profane men found in these rela-
tions food for their malignity, and prepared for Elizabeth a
liCAV sacrifice, to join to all those previously offered to her Di-
vine Master.

After t!iey had cried her down as wasteful and foolish,

ppllpfip^pp

OF HUNGARY. 313

and proclaimed everywhere that she had lost her senses, they

strove to asperse her fair fame .by infamous suspicions and

obscure hints on the nature of her connection with Master

Conrad. They said that this monk had seduced the widow

of Duke Louis, and carried her away to Marburg, there to

enjoy her property and riches. The youth of the Duchess,

who was then but about the age of twenty-two years, gave

a shadow of a pretext for these calumnies. They appeared

sufficiently serious to the Lord Kodolph de Varila, tc

induce him to go and visit her. This true and prudent

knight went then to Marburg, and, approaching the Duch-

s with great respect, said to her, "Will you permit me,

madam, ,to speak to you freely without any reserve?"

Elizabeth replied humbly that she was most willing t*

listen. " I beg, then," said he, " of my dear lady to watch

over her renown, for her familiarity with Master Conrad has

given rise to false notions and unjust suspicions in the minds

of the vulgar and ignoble herd." Elizabeth raised her eyes

io heaven, and with an unruffled countenance she replied-

" Blessed in all things be our most dear and merciful Lord

Jesus Christ, my only Friend, who deigns to receive from

me this little offering. For his love I devoted myself to hia

service ; I forgot my noble birth ; I despised my riches and

possessions ; I permitted my youth and beauty to fade away ;

I renounced my -father, my country, my children, and, with

them, all the consolations of life ; I became poorest of the

poor. One only treasure did I retain, my womanly honour

and reputation : but now, from what I learn, it seems that He

requires that also ; as He accepts, as a special sacrifice, my

fair fame, I must strive to endure for His sake this ignominy.

I consent to be looked upon as a dishonoured woman ; but

oh, my dear Lord, remember my poor children ; they are

innocent ; deign to preserve them from any shame that might

fail upon them on my account."

814 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH.

"Wishing to assure her old friend, and to testify her grati
tude for his devotion, she added, " For your part, my deaf
lord, have no suspicion of me ; see my wounded shoulders"
and she bared them, to show the marks of the last blows
she had received "behold," said she, "the love this holy
priest entertains for me ! or, rather, see how he animates me
to the love of God !" " Admirable union," says- her histo-
rian, " of humility, patience, and pious prudence, which, while
rendering glory to God, while enduring unmerited ignominy,
knew also how to banish thoughts of evil from the mind of
her neighbour !"

And it was not alone by those external and corporal pun-
ishments that Conrad exercised the unlimited power whjere-
with she had intrusted him ; he strove still more to conquer
her heart, by tearing from it every fibre of affection and
effacing every human predilection, in order that it should be
filled alone with the thought and love of God. Of all the
enjoyments of her past life, Elizabeth had retained but one,
and that was, the custom of living with the friends of her
youth, who had shared in the grandeur of her life as a sove-
reign, who had eaten with her the bread of misery on her
expulsion from Wartburg, and who at length, inseparable
and faithful companions as they were, had associated them-
selves in all the voluntary privations of her religious life ID
all her works of mercy in all her penance and her piety.

It may have been that, unknown to her, the ties of tender
sympathy which united Elizabeth to her faithful friends had
softened many a pang had lessened the galling of the yoke
of so many mortifications and trials ; and this young heart
which we have seen glowing with unspeakable charity for all
mankind, necessarily appreciated this sweet and pious conso-
lation. 2s"o intimacy could be more perfect or more beautiful,
than that which existed between the princess and her attend-
ants, and this may be traced in every line of their narrativei

OF HUNGARY, 31A

of her life. Conrad resolved to rend asunder this chain of
true friendship.

One by one, he sent away the retainers of her former
establishment, and the departure of each caused her inex-
pressible grief. Then he came to her two friends. It was
first the fate of Ysentrude, whom Elizabeth loved most
dearly, and from whom she never concealed a thought,
either before or since her retreat from the world. This faith-
ful friend says, " She was obliged to see me driven from
her even me, Ysentrude, whom she loved beyond all
others ; and when parting from me, her heart was almost
riven with anguish, and the tears were streaming from her
eyes." And afterwards, G-uta, who had never left her since
she was five years old, and to whom she was most tenderly
attached, was sent away, nowithstanding the bitter sobbing
and weeping of the suffering Elizabeth.

" It seemed to her," says a pious historian, (Pere Kochem,)
whose simple language we love to quote on this subject, " as
if her heart was broken ; and this faithful servant of God
preserved this grief until her death. Any true soul can com-
prehend this easily, for there is not in this world a greater
sorrow than when two faithful hearts are separated. O, dear
St. Elizabeth ! I recall this parting to thy memory, and, by
the bitter anguish thou didst suffer then with thy best-beloved
friends, obtain for me the grace to understand what evil it
was in me to separate myself, by sin, so often from my
God !"

The victim then, before the God to whom she had immo-
lated herself, was not permitted even the consolation of
entire solitude. Conrad replaced these cherished companions
of her loneliness by two women of a very different stamp.
One, named Elizabeth, was chosen from amongst the com-
mon people, tolerably pious, but excessively vulgar and
Tide and, withal, so ugly, that even to mention her wai

316 LIFE OF ST, ELIZABETH,

sufficient to frighten children. The other was a widow, old,
and deaf, of a bitter-speaking and revengeful character, always
discontented and wrathful.

Elizabeth resigned herself to this annoying change in her
household with perfect docility. She strove to advance in
humility by her intercourse with the rude peasant, and to
learn patience by submitting to the invectives of the ever-
angry old woman. These two servants gave her every day
many trials, and treated her very badly.

Far from opposing her when, through a spirit of penance,
Bhe was anxious to share in their labours and domestic cares,
they on the contrary permitted her to do the most fatiguing
work, to sweep the house, &c. ; and when watching by the
kitchen fire, the princess would be sometimes so absorbed in
religious contemplation, as to suffer the meagre food upon it
to burn, then her servants would reproach her bitterly, and
taunt her that she did not even know how to make a soup.
"Yet during her life the royal lady had never learned to
cook," says the good friar whom we have before quoted.

These women also pitilessly denounced her to Master Con-
rad, whenever she obeyed the compassionate impulse of her
heart, and gave alms, forgetting the command she found it
so difficult to submit to, and elicited for her from her di-
rector severe reproof. But nothing ^ould render her un-
faithful for an instant, nor even excite an involuntary move-
ment of impatience to the entire submission she had vowed
to him who seemed to her to be specially charged to conduct
her promptly and surely to the eternal country. So scru-
pulous was her docility, that when her former dearly beloved
friends, Ysentrude and G-uta, came to visit her, she scarcely
dared to salute them, or to offer them any refreshment,
until she had received permission from Master Com ad.

Yet still another trial was in store for this soul, so loving,
yet withal so determined to crush its own tender feelings , :

OF HUNGARY. 311

and this was to be a new source of triumph. We have seen
how she was separated from her children, whom she cher-
ished with a devotion so intense, that her love of God alone
could surpass it; yet this separation had neither been com-
plete nor absolute the maternal heart could not be stilled,
and if she had not always one or other of her children with
her, which the expression of some of her biographers would
lead us to think, she at least had these dear ones frequently
brought to visit her, to console her by their presence, to
permit her to express in some little manner her unspeakable
love, by looking on them, caressing them, and imprinting
kisses a thousand-fold on their young brows. But soon she
discovered that in her heart there was not- room for two loves,
that no creature should partake of what she had devoted to
God. She found that the presence and fondling of her chil-
dren hindered her from applying herself with her usual assi-
duity to prayer. She feared to love any creature more than
God, and -whether at the instigation of Master Conrad, or
from her own determination, we know not she sent away
for ever from her these last and most fervently cherished of
all the sources of her earthly happiness.

So many supernatural victories of the Divine Grace which
Elizabeth regarded as her only and absolute Sovereign, could
not remain long unknown ; and it was not eVen in heaven
alone that they were to receive the entire of their ineffable
reward. Men at last prepared themselves to do homage to
this heroine of faith and charity, and to reward the children
whom she had, as it were, abandoned for God's love by
paying to them all the veneration with -which an age of faith
could invest the offspring of a saint.

Scarcely had a few years flown by, when, at the great
Assembly held by King Louis IX. of France, was seen a
young German prince, about eighteen years old He served
with the Count de Saint Pol and the Count de Boulogne at

318 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

the table of the Queen even of the Queen of France, who
during the middle ages was to all true knights the supreme
type of feminine beauty and excellence. Blanche of Castillo
then filled this proud position. The attendants whispered one
another that this youth was the son of St. Elizabeth of Thur-
ingia, and that Queen Blanche often embraced him with devo-
tion, seeking on his fair forehead the traces of the fond kisses
his noble mother had impressed there. It was thus that the
mother of a saint did homage to the son of a saint ; it was
in these touching and pious kisses that were associated in
history and in the memory of men, as they were incessantly
united before God, the tender, fervent, and pure souls of
Saiut Louis rf ff/ance and St. Eliw?, v mlj of Hungary.

ijjlll*^*j7j^

Of HUNGARY. 319

CHAPTER XXVIII.

HOW THE LORD EXERCISED HIS POWER AND, HIS MEECT AT THB
INTERCESSION OF THE DEAR SAINT ELIZABETH, AND OP THB
MARVELLOUS EFFICACY OF HER PRAYERS.

" Fecit mihi magna qui potens est." S. Luke i. 49.

" Voluntatem timentium se faciet, et deprecationem eorum exaudlt."

Ps. cxllv. 20.

THE time was approaching when Elizabeth should be sum
moned to receive from her Heavenly Father, the eternal recom
pense of the trials of her short life ; but before calling her to
share in His glory, it pleased the Almighty to surround the
remainder of her days with a halo of majesty, to invest her in
the eyes, even of those who had persecuted and calumniated
her, with a power emanating from His own, and to commit to
this weak woman, who had so nobly vanquished the failings of
our fallen nature, the supernatural strength to conquer in,
and to exterminate from her brethren all the miseries which
are the result of sin.

It will be no longer by her deep compassion, by her affec-
tionate sympathy, by her boundless generosity, by her un-
wearied devotion alone, tha*fc we shall see her occupied in
solacing the woes of the unhappy, and in bearing with them
their burthens ; the Divine Charity to which nothing is im
possible and which was identified with her life, thenceforward
received an impulse so great, that one word, or one prayer
from her lips sufficed to dissipate and drive away for ever tie
sufferings which before she could but strive to heal.

Thenceforth when devotion or charity summoned her from
her miserable dwelling, it was to exercise, not only the

320 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

promptings of her own kindliness, but also the miraculoua
power which the Lord is often pleased to confer on His chosen
souls ; and the new blessings which she obtained for her poor
ones, preserved by their memories even in the least details,
with the most affecting particularity, afford to us the latest
and most brilliant testimony of her sanctity.

No day passed that she did not go twice to visit her hos
pital patients, and bring to them .all that was necessary foi
their maintenance and comfort. One morning when she
arrived at this hospital, she saw on the threshold of its door,
a lame and deformed boy lying motionless. He was a poor,
deaf and dumb child, whose limbs were all distorted by a
painful malady, so that he could only drag himself along on
his hands and feet like an unclean animal. His mother, who
was ashamed of his appearance, had brought him to that place
and left him there in the hope that the good Duchess would
have compassion on him.

Indeed when Elizabeth came up she looked upon him with
anxious pity, and bending gently over him she said : " Tell
me, dear child, where are thy parents ? who brought thee
hither ?" But as the boy did not seem to hear her, she
repeated the question in a -clear, sweet-toned voice, and caresa
ing him added, " From *what dost thou suffer ? wilt thou not
speak ?" The child looked at her without answering ; Eliza-
beth not knowing that he was^dumb, imagined that he was
possessed by some demon, and feeling her pity for him in-
crease, she said in a loud voice, " In the name of our Lord I
command thee, and him that is in thee, to reply, and to tell
me whence thou earnest."

At that moment the child stood erect before her speech
was given to him and he said, "It was my mother who
brought me." He then related^ to her how he had never
heard nor spoken before, that from his birth he had been as
ihe found him, feeble and deformed in all his body. "But

^iS^-^^y^* 'x^^^g^^:-*^^' *'. ;'^ : - ;: >:: ':". :i " ; ": ; ':^ : ^W

OP HUNGARY. . 321

now," said he, extending his limbs one after the other, " be-
hold God has given me motion, and speech, and hearing, and
I say words that I never learned from any one." Then ha
wept and thanked God. " I knew not God." he continued,
" for all my senses were dead, I knew not what man was. :
but now I feel that I am no longer like a beast. I can speak
of God. Blessed be the words of your mouth, that obtained
for me the grace of not dying in the state wherein I have
hitherto lived." At these expressions of the feelings of a soul
newly awaicened by Omnipotent power to a knowledge of God
and of itself, Elizabeth knew what it had pleased the Almighty
to permit her to work, but alarmed and troubled by this won-
derful ministry, she fell upon her knees and mingled her teara
with those of the child she had saved. After having blessed
God for the favour, she said to him, " Return now to thy
parents, and tell not what has happened to thee ; above all
things, speSk not of me to any one. Say that God's mercy
assisted thee. Guard thyself by night and by day from mor-
tal sin, otherwise thou mayest relapse into thy former state.
Remember what thou hast suffered ere this, and pray for me
as I will ever pray for thee." Then she went away to escape
the praise of this miracle, but the mother of the boy came up
at the moment, and seeing her child standing and speaking,
she was amazed and cried out, " Who has given thee speech ?"
the boy replied, "A beautiful lady in a gray robe commanded*
me to speak to her in the name of Jesus Christ, and words
were granted to me to reply." Whereupon the mother ran in
the direction that Elizabeth had taken, and seeing her passing
on quickly she recognised her, and everywhere published this
miracle. -

Thus, notwithstanding the modesty of Elizabeth, the report
of the power wherewith God had endowed her was propagated
to a great distance, and crowds of the unfortunate and suffer-
ing came to invoke her assistance. Her compassion ever
14*

322 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

prevented her from refusing to accede to their requests, but
never did the magnitude of the wonders which the Almighty
permitted her to work, induce her for a moment to go astray
from the profound and fervent humility which rendered her
BO agreeable to Him. One day a sick man asked her to heal
him in the name of the beloved Apostle St. John, for whom
she felt a special devotion ; after she prayed for him he fell
cured, and he threw himself before her to thank her ; but she,
kneeling down, blessed God, for that He had deigned to grant
her request through the intercession of His dear Apostle St.
John, though, says the writer from whom we take this narra-
tive, " God listened to her prayers as well as He did to those
of St. John.-"

Another day, a poor creature whose hands and feet were
paralysed, cried out, " Oh woman, bright as the* sun amongst
thy sex, I come from Reynhartsbrunn where thy husband
reposes by thy love for his soul come and hel me." On
hearing the name of her husband she remembered their holy
and happy life ; she stopped and looked with infinite tender-
ness upon him who invoked her thus, and by that gentle
glance alone the paralytic was cured, and for this she
fervently thanked the Lord. Sometime after, as she was
walking to the Convent of Aldenburg, a poor man called
after her, saying, " Behold for twelve years I have been the
prey of a wicked spirit let me but touch the hem of thy
garment, and he must leave me." She returned immediately,
and kneeling by the wayside she embraced and blessed him in
the name of Jesus Christ, and at that moment the possessed
one was delivered from his tormentor.

On another occasion, having gone to the church which she
had erected near her hospital, about noon which was the
hour she preferred, as the people were generally at dinner, and
he could then indulge her devotion uninterruptedly she saw
ft blind man walking alone around the church ; his eyelidi

-? r

OF HUNGARY. 328

optn, bat the eyeballs were withered and the siglit
had departed from them. She went and asked him why ha
was thus wandering alone about the church. He replied, "I
would wish to go to the dear lady who comforts the poor, i
the hope thak she would give me some assistance for God's
sake ; but first I came io say a prayer in this church, and I
am now going round ifc to feel how long and how wide it is,
as my eyes cannot see it." "And wouldst thou like to behold
the church ?" asked the compassionate Elizabeth. " If it was
God's will," replied the blind man, " I would indeed be glad
to look upon it, but as I was born blind I have never seen
the sunlight, so I have been (3! od's prisoner." Then he began
to tell her of all his misery " I would have been glad to
labour like other men," said ho, *' }>ut I am useless to myself
and to every one else ; the hou^t?, so short to others, appear
to me to be long and weary ; whtn I am amongst men I can
hardly avoid the sin of envy ; when I am alone I deplore my
misfortune, for I cannot pray always, and even when praying
I think upon it incessantly." "It is all for thy good that
God has sent thee this misfortune,'' said Elizabeth, " if thoa
hadst sight thou mightest have fallen into excesses and com-
mitted many more sins than thou hast done." " No, no,"
replied the blind man, " I would have worked hard and been
free from the sad thoughts that possess me to-day." Elizabeth,
quite moved with compassion, then said to him, " Pray that
God may give thee light and I will pray with thee." Then
was the man aware that it was the holy Duchess Elizabeth
who spoke to him, and prostrating himself before her, he
cried out, " Oh noble and merciful lady, have pity on me !"
But she enjoined him again to pray to God with entire confi-
dence, and kneeling at some distance she also prayed fervently.
Immediately sight was given to the poor man, and eyes of
heavenly beauty were formed in the hitherto vacant orbits
He arose, looked about him, and went towards Elizabeth,

824 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

" Madam" said he to her, " may God be for ever blessed; 1
see well and clearly your words are verified."

But the pious princess, who always united the prudent
care of a Christian mother to her charity, said to him, " Now
that sight is given to thee, remember that thou art to serve
God "and to avoid sin labour, and be an honest man, humble
and loyal in all things."

The prayers of this serVant of the Lord, so powerful in
assuaging the sufferings of the body, were not the less effi-
cacious in promoting the salvation of souls.

Madam Gertrude de Leinbach, the wife of a noble k-night
in the neighbourhood, came one day to visit the Duchess,
and brought with her her son, named Berthold, a youth of
about twelve or fourteen years old, who w^as magnificently
clad, and who appeared to take great pride and pleasure in
the elegance of his attire. Elizabeth, after conversing a
long time with his mother, turned and said to him, " My
dear child, thou art, in my mind, too richly clad ; thou art
too anxious to serve the world, and from this thou wilt not
derive any benefit, either to thy soul or body. Why wilt
tiiou not think rather of serving thy Creator ? Tell me, dear
oue, dost thou think that thy Saviour and mine wore sucL
clothes when he came in all humility to shed his blood for us ?"
The boy replied " Oh ! dear lady, I beg of thee to ask the
Lord to give me grace to serve him." " Dost thou wish
truly, that I should pray for thee ?" asked the Duchess
" Yes I do, indeed," said Berthold. "Then dispose thyselt
to receive the grace thou seekest," said Elizabeth "I will
cheerfully pray for thee ; let us go together to the Churcn,
and both unite in supplication." He followed her, and,
when arrived, he prostrated himself before the Altar, a ^ did
also his mother, at some distance from the place in - /hich
Elizabeth knelt. After .their prayers had lasted a c ,rtain
time, the youth cried out " Oh, dear lady, cease, 1

Sp;^

OF HUNGARY. 325

thee I" Still Elizabeth heeded not, but continued most fer-
vently. Again Berthold cried out more loudly, " Cease,
madam,. 1 can endure it no longer ; my body is all inflamed.'*
And indeed he seemed all burning a vapour, exhaled from
his body ; his mother and two of the attendants ran towards
him, and found his garments saturated with perspiration, and
his skin so hot that they could scarcely touch him. Eliza-
beth was still praying, until the boy cried out in desperation,
" In the name of the Lord, I conjure thee to pray no more ;
for J am consumed by an interior fire, and my heart is read^
to break." Then she discontinued, and Berthold gradually
regained his former state with this difference, however,
that his heart never lost the flame of Divine Love which the
prayers of Elizabeth had caused to be enkindled in it, and,
soon after, he entered the Order of Saint Francis.
Such examples soon brought to Elizabeth a_ crowd of suf-
fering souls, seeking her powerful intercession. She acceded
with pious humility to their requests, and many of them,
enlightened and tranquillized by her prayers, like the young
Berthold, embraced the religious life. This sweet and bene-
volent influence extended even beyond this world. This
efficacious assistance was sought by some departed souls,
who had not yet expiated all their faults.

One night, she saw, in a dream, her mother, Queen Ger-
trude, who had been cruelly assassinated many years before ;
she appeared to kneel, and to say, "My dear child, be-
loved of God, wilt thou pray for me, for I have still to
expiate some of the transgressions I committed during life.
- Be mindful of the pains. I endured when I brought thee into
the world, and have pity on my present sufferings. Beg of
God to shorten the time of my punishment, and to look
rather upon the ignominious death which I suffered, though
innocent, than upon my sins. This thou canst do if thou
wilt, for thou art full of grace in his eyes." Elizabeth awoke

326 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

weeping. She arose from her bed, and knelt down. Aftef
praying for some time for the repose of her mother's soul,
she again lay down and slept. Her mother appeared a second
time, and said to her, " Blessed be the day and the hour
that I brought thee forth ! Thy prayer has delivered me ;
to-morrow I shall enter into eternal glory. But ever pray
for all thou lovest, for God will comfort those who invoke
ihee in their afflictions." Elizabeth awoke again, and shed
tears of heart-felt joy. Again she slumbered, through fa-
tigue, and did not hear the bell toll for Matins at the Church
of the Friar Minors, whither she was accustomed to go. She
did not awake until the hour of Prime, when she arose, went
to confess her slothfulness, and requested her director to in-,
flict on her a penance for this fault.

This voice, so efficacious in obtaining the mercy of heaven,
was often equally so in seeking for justice on earth.

In one of her walks, Elizabeth, who was so -justly termed
the nursing-mother of the poor, discovered a woman in the
pains of child-birth. She had her immediately conveyed to
the hospital, and attended with all possible care. She wished
to stand sponsor for the infant, on which she bestowed her
own sweet name, Elizabeth. Every day she went to visit the
mother, gave her her blessing, and brought whatever would
be necessary for her comfort. After having kept her for a
month, until she was entirely recovered, the Duchess gave her
a cloak, and the shoes off her own feet, together with provi-
sions and twelve pieces of money ; she also wrapped the infant
in a furred mantle, which she took off one of her attendants.
But the unnatural mother, far from being affected by such
generosity, only speculated on its prolongation. After having
taken leave of the Duchess in the evening, she stifled all the
instincts of maternal love, and went away at a very early
Dour, thus abandoning her child. Meanwhile, Elizabeth,
whose thoughts were with the poor by day and by night, said

OF HUNGARY. 327

to Mie of her maidens, just as they were entering the church
for matins, " I have some money in my purse ; go thon with
it to that poor woman ; it may be of some use to her and her
babe." But the girl returned, announcing that the woman
was gone, and had left her infant. " Bun and bring the little
9ne to me," said the good Elizabeth, " that it may not be
neglected." Full though her heart was of mercy, yet well
did she know what were the rights of justice ; so she sent for
the judge of the city, and ordered him to send out soldiers to
the different roads leading from the town, to seek out tae
guilty mother. They returned without success ; then Eliza-
beth went to pray, and one of her maidens, who dreaded the
wrath of Conrad when he should have heard the story, told
her mistress to pray that the ungrateful woman should be
discovered. Elizabeth replied thus to this suggestion : " I
KUOW not how to ask any thing of God, but that His will be
done in all things." In a little time they perceived the hus-.
band and wife, who came and threw themselves at the feet of
the Duchess, supplicating for pardon of their fault ; at the
same time, they declared that they had found their flight
impeded by an invisible force, which absolutely prevented
their going forward, but which impelled them to return to
the city. No one doubted but that this was the effect of
the prayers of the Duchess. The attendants took from the
ungrateful woman all that had been previously given to her,
and distributed it amongst poor people who were more' deserv-
ing. But Elizabeth, in whose heart compassion quickly
legained the empire, gave her another pair of shoes and a
cloak to cover her.

Notwithstanding so many proofs of her power with God,
her extreme humility sometimes assumed the appearance of a
kiud of diffidence in God's mercy.

She occasionally experienced moments of discouragement
and interior darkness, such as are sometimes felt by souls the

32% LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH, *

most advanced in the ways leading to heaven, when they bend
under the burthen of this mortal life ; and then her heart,
always inflamed with love, would doubt if she could find in
God a love proportionate to that she had centred upofc
Hun. -

Her former confessor, Father Rodinger of Wirrtzburg,
came to visit her, and, accompanied by three of her maidens,
she went to walk with him on the banks of the Lahn ; in her
conversation with this old friend, of whom she was undoubt-
edly less afraid than of Conrad, she said to him " Reverend
Father, there is one thing that torments me more than any
other ; and that is, that I fear my Creator has but little
affection for me. Not but that He is infinitely good and
always prodigal of his love, but on account of my many t
faalts, that keep me far away, whilst my heart is inflamed
with love for Him." " There is nothing to fear in that," said
the good Friar "for the Divine mercy is so great, that it is
impossible to think but that God loves infinitely more those
who love Him, than He is beloved by them." " How, then,
is it," said Elizabeth, " that He permits sadness or languor
of soul to remove me from Him, to whom I would wish every-
where and always to be united ?" The Religious remarked
that these were the marks of an elect soul, and not of an
abandoned one, and the sure means of acquiring an increase
of Divine love ; then he pointed her attention to a tree
growing on the opposite bank of the river-, and said that
God would more surely permit that tree to come by itself
across the river, than that she should for a moment think
that His love did not infinitely surpass that of any of His
creatures for him.

No sooner had he spoken these words, than the wonder-
Btricken group saw the tree crossing the river and implanting
itself on the shore where they were walking. At this miracu-
lous testimony of Divine love, Elizabeth recognised the poweir

pppSlil^g;^^

OF HUNGARY. 829

and eternal truth of Him who said to his disciplos, " If you
had faith like to a grain of mustard-seed, you might say to
this mulberry tree, Be thou rooted up, and be thou trans-
planted into the sea : and it would obey you." -Saint Luke,
xvii. 6. And she knelt at the feet of Father Kodinger, to
confess the sin of distrust in God's mercy, and to obtain hia
pardon.

To give to her prayers the wonderful power which we have
seen in their effects, Elizabeth had no other means than the
perpetual exercise of this great faculty; and notwithstanding
the number and fatiguing nature of the works of mercy in
which she was continually engaged, and which, one would
think, were sufficient to occupy all her time, yet she devoted
many hours daily to prayer and meditation. With a rare
happiness, she united in her person the active and contem-
plative lives.

After having, like Martha, provided with the greatest
care for the wants of Jesus Christ, in the persons of his poor,
she used to go, like Mary, to the feet of her Saviour, and
there forget this world in the recollection of his graces and
mercies. " Before God, I declare that I nave rarely seen a
more contemplative woman," wrote her severe confessor to
the Pope. She often remained for hours at prayer, with her
heart, her eyes, her hands, lifted to heaven. It was also her
custom to spend many hours of the night in the church, not-
withstanding the prohibitions of Conrad, who did not wish
that she should deprive herself of necessary repose. As she
sometimes did not feel sufficiently alone or unobserved in the
churches of Marburg, she loved to pray in the fields, under
heaven's canopy, surrounded by that nature which in all ita
beauties reminded her of the greatness and clemency of the
Creator Tradition informs us, that, when praying thus in
the open air, when it rained, she alone was not wet. Her
favourite refuge was near a clear fountain, in a wood, at the

330 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

foot of a rugged hill, at a little distance from Schroeck, two
leagues from Marburg. The road to it was steep and
dangerous; she had a paved pathway made there, and erected
near the spring a little chapel. Soon this solitary spot re-
ceived the name of Elizabeth's Fountain, which it preserves
to this day. The worst weather could not hinder her from
visiting this beloved retreat. She always prayed whilst
walking ; but coming hither from Marburg, she used to
recite bat one Pater, so mingled was her prayer with re-
flection and contemplation. Elizabeth always assisted with
exemplary devotion and exactitude at all the Divine Offices,
She entertained for the Saints of God an affectionate rever-
ence ; she listened to the histories of their lives with the
deepest interest ; she scrupulously observed their festivals,
and regarded their precious relics with great veneration, and
continually lighted tapers and burned incense before their
shrines. After her special friend, St. John the Evangelist,
it was for St. Mary Magdalene that she professed the greatest
devotion. The Holy Virgin was naturally the object of her
fervent love ; she always carried about her four images of
this Queen of Heaven, which she preserved until her death,
and which she then bequeathed to her eldest daughter,
Sophia. Yet she was far from attaching undue importance
to these exterior signs of devotion, and she knew perfectly
how to distinguish between their mere material value and the
pure one which faith assigns them. Thus, she was one day
visiting a monastery, and about twenty-four of the monks
assembled to show her, with a certain degree of complaisance,
some richly-gilt carvings that adorned their church. She said
to them " Indeed it would have been better to keep the
money that these cost you for your food and clothing, for the
subjects here represented should be engraven on your hearts."
She was not less severe to herself, for as a person was speak-
ing to her of the beauty of a picture, and striving to induce

^j '

OF HUNGARY. 331

Her to purchase it, she said, " I do not want that picture, fof
I feel the subject of it in my soul.''

The same feeling predominated in the mind of one of her
most illustrious contemporaries, though of a very different
stamp of character from herself, Simon, Count de Mont-
fort, of whom St. Louis related with admiration the follow-
ing anecdote to Joinville : that when a person came to tell
him, " that he had just seen the body of our Saviour, that
the host had become flesh and blood in the hands of a
priest, and at which those present were much astonished,"
the Count said to him " Go to, you who doubt ; as for me,
I believe it implicitly, and I hope for thus believing to re-
ceive a brighter crown in Paradise, than that the angels
wear, because they, seeing God's wonders face to face,, must
believe them."

God's image was surely too deeply engraven in Elizabeth's
heart, too frequently present to her love, for her to require
the assistance which the Church offers with generous compas-
sion to common souls. Ravished in incessant contemplation,
even into the very presence of the Divinity and His most
august mysteries, she needed not the imperfect figures that
the human imagination could form of them. According a?
she approached the end of her career, her prayers became
more frequently transformed into ecstasies ; and these won-
derful interruptions of her ordinary life increased, as if to
prepare her gently for the passage to eternity. In a little
time no day passed that she quitted not this world of grief
and weariness, to enjoy a foretaste of the bliss of heaven.
The number of revelations, of visions, and of supernatural
communications, was very great ; and though she endea-
voured to conceal these wonderful favours, they could not
pass unnoticed by those who lived with her ; her joy and
gratitude often betrayed her, and the occurrence of theso
Tisions was looked upon by her contemporaries as incontest

882 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

Jble facts. The angels were the usual messengers from" hea
ven to this predestined soul ; not only did they convey to her
warnings and celestial instructions, but they also came to
console her in the trials and accidents of this passing life.

To relate one instance, from amongst many others, Eliza
beth brought to her house a poor woman who was sick ; on
her the tenderest care was lavished ; she recovered and took
to flight one morning at a very early hour, carrying away
with her all the clothes belonging to her benefactress who
now, not having wherewith to cover herself was obliged to
remain in bed ; but far from becoming impatient or discon-
tented, she said, " My dear Lord, I thank you for having
thus permitted me to resemble you. Naked you came into
the World, and naked did you die, nailed to the cross" and
immediately, as when she had formerly given all her rgirnent
to the poor, she saw an angel coming with a fair garment,
which he gave to her, saying, "I do not now bring thee a
crown as I did in other times, for God himself will soon bestow
on thee the crown of glory."

But often, also, the Divine Spouse of her soul, the Master
of her life, Jesus himself, appeared to her, accompanied bv a
multitude of saints. He consoled her by his gentle words,
and fortified her by his presence. After these celestial
visions, her face, according to the grave Conrad, beamed
With a marvellous brightness a reflection of the Divine
splendour which had shone upon her, and from her beautiful
eyes proceeded rays like those of the sun. Those only who
were free from the stain of mortal sin, could look at her
without being dazzled. If she continued long in the state of
ecstasy, she acquired such strength that she had not any need
of even the most trifling nourishment for a long space of
time. This spiritual food sufficed for the sustenance oi her
body. For the remainder of the day, she lived only in Him^
In whose love she was all absorbed j the only words she coald

H^g;^^

OF HUNGARY. 333

use to express her feelings on these occasions, were the fol-
lowing, from the Sacred Text, " My soul fainted away when
my beloved spoke unto me."

Thus was realized the prophetic instinct which had im-
pelled her in her childhood to choose for patron, friend and
nndel the blessed Evangelist who had received the Privilege
of Love, and who, when reposing on the bosom of his
Saviour, had read there all the secrets of heaven. A divine
radiance was then shed over her life, which illumined her
whole being. No trial, no tribulation, could disturb her
gentle sweetness ; never was she troubled or irritated ; on
the contrary, she appeared even gayer in her sorrows.

Those who were most intimate with her never saw upon
her countenance an expression of discontent ; yet she wept
incessantly, and the holy gift of tears which she had received
in her early days became more plenteous according as she
approached the tomb. The happier was she, the more she
wept ; but her tears flowed as from a tranquil and hidden
source, without leaving a trace on her features ; and far
from in the least degree disturbing the pure beauty and pla-
cidity of her countenance, they added to it a new charm ;
they were the expressions of a heart for whose feelings
words were all too weak.

And surely, as we before read of the tears that human
love and cruel persecution had forced from her, these tears
of supernatural joy. that now flowed into the chalice of her
life, were received, drop by drop, by her celestial Spouse,
and became the pearls of that crown which was placed on
her fair brow, at her entrance to the eternal glory of heaven 1

334 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER XXIX.

HOW THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH, WHEN AGED TWENTY-FOUR TEARS,
WAS SUMMONED TO THE ETERNAL WEDDING FEAST.

" Jam hiems transiit, imber abiit et recessit : surges mica mea, speciosa mea, el
rent . . . Veni sponsa mea, et coronaberis." Cant. ii. 11, 14.

Two years had scarcely passed away, since the humble
Elizabeth had been clothed in the Habit of the Order of St.
Francis, and with it had received strength to despise all the
joys of this world, and to seek heaven by a path strewn
with thorns ; and already the Lord had deemed the trial
sufficiently long the laborious task she had imposed on her-
self sufficiently well fulfilled. " He ordained that she who
had given up the kingdom of this world should be received
into the realm of the angels." Like the spouse in the in-
spired canticles, He came to announce to his beloved one
that the dark winter of her life, with all its storms, had
passed away, and that the dawning of an eternal spring was
about to open for her. The year 1231 was nigh expired,
the year wherein the Order of St. Francis had resigned to
heaven the great St. Anthony of Padua, the glory of Italy
and Portugal ; and the Almighty, willing to increase the
number of the Saints, demanded from the same order a new
sacrifice, and proceeded to cull its fairest flower.

One night when Elizabeth was praying, though in a state
between sleeping and waking, Christ appeared to her, sm>
roanded by a beauteous light, and said in a sweet voice,
" Come, Elizabeth, my spouse, my beloved one, come to the
tabernacle I have prepared for thee from eternity ; come,
I myself will conduct rhee thither." On awaking, she was

JKpPgWSySj*^

: OF HU 3 GARY. 335

overjoyed, and began to make all the preparations for this
happy passage. She arranged all matters for her burial.
She went for the last time to visit her patients, and gave to
them and to her followers all that it was in her power to
bestow. Master Conrad was at this time stricken with a
grievous malady, which caused him acute pain. He sent for
his gentle penitent, and she went immediately, faithful to the
last to her mission, as the consolatrix and Mend of the poor
and sick. He received her with affection, and she grieved to
see him suffering so much. Then said he to her : " What
will become of you, my lady and dear child, when I am dead ?
How will you regulate your life ? Who will be your protector
against the wicked, and who will lead you to God ?" She
replied immediately, " Your question is a vain one, for I will
die before you ; believe me, I shall not have need of another
protector."

On the fourth day after this conversation she was attacked
by the illness which was to terminate the long death of her
terrestrial existence, and to conduct her to the only true and
eternal life.

* She was obliged to remain in bed, where for twelve or four-

teen days, she lay the victim of a scorching fever, still always
joyous and gay, and continually occupied in prayer. Towards
the end of this time, one day, as she seemed to slumber, with
her face turned towards the wall, one of her women, named
like herself, Elizabeth, heard a sweet and exquisite melody,
proceeding, as it were, from the throat of the Duchess. In a
moment after she changed her position, and turning towards
her attendant, she said : " Where art thou, my beloved ?"
. " Behold me," said the servant, adding, " dear lady, how
charmingly you have sung !" " What," said Elizabeth, " hast
thou too heard something ?" and on receiving her response in
the affirmative, the invalid resumed, " I will tell thee how a
little bird stood between me and the wall, and he sung to me

336 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

for a long time so sweetly that my heart and soul were glad-
dened, and I was impelled to sing also. He revealed to me
that I should die in three days."

" Doubtless," says an ancient narrator, " it was her guar-
dian angel, who came under the form of a little bird to an-
nounce the approach of eternal joy."

From this moment, having so little time to prepare for
the last great conflict, she did not wish to see any secular
persons, not even the noble ladies who were accustomed to
visit her. She bade all who inquired after her farewell, aud
blessed them for the last time. She received only, besides
btr domestics, some religious women who were especially
attached to her, her confessor, and the poor child who suc-
ceeded in her care the leper whom Conrad had sent away .
When they asked her why she excluded every one, she saia,
" I wish to remain alone with Grod, and to meditate on the
dreadful day of the last judgment, and on my JLlmighty
Judge." Then she began to weep and to invoke the mercy
of God.

On Sunday, the vigil of the octave of St. Martin's day,
after Matins, she confessed to Conrad who was sufficiently
recovered to attend her. " She took her heart into her hands,
and read therein all that it contained," says a contemporary
manuscript, " but nought was there for accusation, nothing
that had not been a thousand times washed away by the most
Kince^s contrition." Eer confession concluded, Conrad asked
what was her last will with regard to her wealth and posses-
sions. " I am astonished," Gaid she, " that you should put
such a question to me : for yon know that when I made a vow
of obedience to you, I renounced all my property, as well as
my will, my beloved children, and all earthly pleasures. I
retained no more than was sufficient to pay debts and to give
alms. If you had granted permission, I would have been glad
to give up all, and to live in a cell, subsisting on the daily

OF HUNOART. 337

pittance i/hat ^ther poor ones would' have bestowed upon me.
For a long time, ftll of which I was apparently mistress, be
longed in reality to the poor. Distribute amongst them what-
ever I leave, except this old robe I now wear, and in which
I wish to be buried. I make no will, I have no heir but
Jesus Christ." But as one of her companions requested her
to leave her some memorial, she gave her the old mantle of.
her holy Father St. Francis which the Pope had sent her
"I leave thee my mantle," said she, "heed not that it ia
patched, torn and miserable for it was the most precious
treasure I ever possessed. I declare to thee, that whenever
I asked any special favour from my beloved Jesus, and that
[ prayed covered with this cloak, He 'granted my wishes, al-
ways with infinite mercy."

She then requested that she should be buried in the Church
of the hospital she had "founded and dedicated in honour of.
St. Francis. She had no further care for the burial of her
body, so absorbed was she in the anticipation of her soul's
entrance into Heavefcr After she had conversed a long time
with Master Conrad, and when Mass was said, towards the
hour of Prime they administered to her the last sacraments,
which she expected with a pious eagerness. Who could know
and judge with what tenderness, what purity of heart, what
ardent desire, what celestial joy she received this sweet repast 1
Certainly He alone who became her guide and .viaticum in
this last journey. But what was manifested in her exterior
served to show the attendants the presence of the divine grace
by which she was replenished.

-After having communicated and received extreme unction,
she remained motionless and silent during the entire day,
absorbed in contemplation, enraptured with that Banquet of
life of which she had partaken for the last time in this world.
Towards the Tesper hour her lips were unsealed to give ut-
terance to a torrent of pious and fervent aspirations ; her
15

338 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

tongue, usually so slow to speak, proclaimed her feelings so
fervently, and with such prudence and efficacy, that though
she had never spoken so much before, not a single word was
lost.

Those present remarked that, all she had ever heard from
preachers, or read in devout books, or learned in her ecsta-
sies, came to her mind to be imparted to her maidens before
her death. A wonderful fountain of eloquence and learning
seemed to spring up in her soul at the very moment in which
it was about to fly from this world. In remembering the
Holy Scriptures, she selected the passages most affecting to
the memory of a loving soul like hers. She recited the whole
passage of the Gospel relating to the raising of Lazarus from
the dead, and spoke with wonderful pathos of the visit that
Jesus made to the blessed sisters Martha and Mary, when He
deigned to sympathise in their grief when He went with
them to their brother's tomb, and showed his tender and sin-
cere compassion, in mingling with their sorrow, tears from
His divine eyes. Fixing on this idea she'spoke most fervently
and to the great admiration of the attendants, of those tears
of Christ, as well as of those shed by Him in contemplating
Jerusalem, and while He hung upon the Cross ; her words
were so earnest, so tender, so fitted to penetrate the heart,
that tears soon abundantly flowed from the eyes of all who
heard her. The expiring saint perceived their sorrow, and as
if to give them a last warning she repeated the words that our-
Lord spoke when going to death, " Daughters of Jerusalem,
weep not over me, but weep over yourselves," Her heart,
always so full of compassion and sympathy, though winging
its flight to Heaven, was still accessible to her beloved ones.
She again sought to alleviate the anguish of her attendants,
by addressing to them the most affectionate consolation, and
calling them thus : " My friends, my beloved ones} 1 And
then she bowed her head and for a long time kept a complete

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OF HUNGARY. 339

silence. I ft a little time after, though the bystanders saw no
motion of her lips, they again heard a faint, sweet music.
When they questioned her on this subject she replied, " Have
you not heard them who chaunted with me ? I sung as well
as I could with them." " No faithful soul will doubt," saya
her historian, " but that she already nnited her sweet voice
to the songs of triumph, and the delicious harmony of the .
celestial choirs who expected the moment of her entrance into
their ranks ; already she magnified the praises of the Lord...
with His angels."

She remained from the closing of the day until the first
crowing of the cock in a state of boundless joy, of pious ex-
ultation and fervent devotion. At the moment of victory
with good reason she celebrated the termination of her many
trials. Already sure of her glorious crown, she said to her
attendants a few minutes before midnight : " What shall we
do if our enemy, the devil, should appear?" In an instant
after she cried out in a loud clear voice, " Fly, fly, thou
wicked one, I renounce thee !" Then again she said : " He
goes, let us now speak of God and of His Son, it will not fa-
tigue you it will not continue long." Towards midnight
her face became so radiant that they could scarcely look upon
her. At the sound of the cockcrow, she said : " At this hour
did- the Virgin Mary bring to the world its Saviour. Let ua
speak of God and of the infant Jesus, for it is now midnight,
the hour in which Jesus was born, and laid in a manger, and
that He created a new star, which had never been seen before ;
at this hour He came to redeem the world ; He will redeem
me also ; at this hour He arose from the dead, and delivered
the imprisoned souls ; He will also deliver mine from this
miserable world."

Her joy and happiness increased every moment. " I am
weak," said she, "but I feel no more pain than if I was not
ill 1 recommend you all to God." She spoke again, inspired

<440 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

by the Holy Spirit, but her words, which breathed the purest
love of God, have not been particularly recorded. At length
she said, " Oh Mary, come to my assistance ! the moment haa
arrived when God summons his friend to the wedding feast.
The bridegroom seeks His spouse." Then in a low tone she

added, " Silence ! Silence ! " In pronouncing these

words she bowed her head as if falling into a gentle slumber,
and in bliss breathed her last sigh. Her soul ascended to
Heaven surrounded by angels and saints who had come to
meet her. A delicious perfume filled the humble cottage
which now contained but her mortal remains, and those pre-
sent heard a chorus of heavenly voices singing with ineffable
harmony the sublime anthem of the Church, " Regnum mundi,
et omnem ornatum sceculi contempsi propter amorem Domini
met Jesu Chris tif"

This was during the night of the 19th of November, A. D.
1231 ; the Saint had not entirely completed her twenty-fourth
year.

A manuscript entitled, " Antiquitates monasterii Aldenber-
gensis," relates that the little Gertrude, aged four years, who
was then at Aldenberg, said at that time to her companions,
" I hear the passing bell at Marburg ; at this moment the dear
lady, my mother, is dead !"

One of the good religious who wrote the life of the dear
Saint, exclaims, " Do you blame me, dear reader, for having
written that Elizabeth is dead ? Do you accuse me for not
having alleged other causes for her death than love and joy ?
Yes, love and joy led her from this vale of tears ; she left it
not with pain. Death, which is so hard and so terrible a
struggle, had no share in this departure, in which a /ftuous
and holy life was succeeded by a triumphant and blessed
eternity : it was rather a privilege of grace than a Banishment
of sin ; an achievement of victory, not a failing of human
nature."

OP HUNGARY. 341

CHAPTER XXX.

BCW THE DEAR SAINT ELIZABETH WAS BURIED IN THE 3HURCH NEAB
HER HOSPITAL, AND HOW EVEN THE LITTLE BIRDS OP HEAVES
CELEBRATED HER OBSEQUIES.

"Ecce quod concupivi, jam video; quod speravl,Jam teneo; Ips! sum junctaln
mils quern in terrls posita, tota devotione dllexi." Amtftem of St. Agnes Roman
* Breviary. ' -

DIFFERENT from all human glory, that of the saints com-
mences on earth, as it does in heaven, but with their death ;
it appears that as if, in his parental solicitude, the Lord wills
always to leave their humility under the protection of -the
forgetfulness, or even of the insults of the world, until nothing
but their mortal part remains to be exposed to its dangerous
praises.

Thus, scarcely had the soul of our Elizabeth sought the
rich repose of heaven, when her body became the object of
a veneration which had too frequently been refused to her
during life ; and we find that this poor widow, who for a
long time had been persecuted, despised, and 'calumniated,
occupied the thoughts and filled the hearts of all faithful Ca-
tholics, from the Supreme Hea,d of the Chur2h to the hum-
blest pilgrim of pious Germany.

When she had breathed her last sigh, her faithful maidens
and some other devout women washed her body, with the
greatest respect for her who in her last moments so nobly
fulfilled the promises of the glorious victories she had gained
over all human frailties during her short life.

They gave her for a shroud the torn garments which had
been her only clothing, and which she herself had desired

LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

should form her grave-clothes. Her sacred body was then
taken by Franciscan Religious, accompanied by the secular
clergy and the people, while chaunting holy hymns, (though
many were weeping,) to the chapel of the hospital of St.
Francis, which was destined to be the first theatre of her
glory, as it had been the place where many of her heroic
sacrifices for the love of God and of the poor had been made.
In this chapel she most frequently prayed, and performed
many acts of devotion. The report of her death was soon
noised abroad, and all the priests and monks of the country,
particularly the Cistercians, as well as an immense crowd of
people, both rich and poor, came to render the last honours
to her who was so early summoned to receive the reward of
her labours. Animated by that popular instinct which is so
frequently the forerunner of true renown, and anticipating
the honour which the Church was so soon to decree to her
precious remains, the most ardent sought to procure relics of
the Saint. They threw themselves on her bier ; some tore
away pieces of her robe ; others cut her nails and her hair ;
some women went even so far as to cut away the tips of her
ears and of her breast. The grief occasioned by her loss
was general ; tears flowed from every eye ; on all sides were
heard the groans and lamentations of the poor and sick, who
were thus deprived of her tender care, and who came in
crowds to take a last look of their benefactress ; all wept
together it seemed as if each one had lost a mother. But

o ..

how could we describe the anguish of those who had lost in
her a support and an example ? Amongst others, the Fran-
ciscans, whose sister she was by rule and by habit, and to
whom she had ever been a mother, by the powerful protec-
tion she had afforded them, deplored her loss with deep
ftfBiction. The father who has left us her biography says
" When I think upon Elizabeth, I would far rather weep tfian
write."

IjffSilPlpp^

OF HUNGARY. 343

The love and devotion of the people exacted permission to
have her cherished remains left for four days in the Church,
in the midst of the pious multitude, who continually prayed
there and sung canticles. Her countenance was uncovered,
and offered to their contemplation the most enchanting sight.
Her youthful beauty had reappeared, with all its freshness
and brilliancy ; the bloom of her early life again visited her
cheeks. Her flesh, far from being rendered stark by death,
was as flexible to the touch as if she was still alive. " Before
her death," says one of her historians, "her countenance
was like that of one who had passed her life in bitter suffer-
ings. But scarcely had she expired, when her face became
so smooth, so majestic, and so beautiful, that this sudden
change could only excite admiration ; and one might say that
Death, the ruthless destroyer of all things fair, visited her
but to obliterate the traces, not of old age and time, but
those of sorrow and austerity, as if that grace which hitherto
replenished her soul would now in turn animate, her body.
It seemed as if, through the mists of death, some of the
immortal loveliness beamed upon her, or that glory had in
anticipation shed some of its rays upon a body that was one
day to be received into the splendour of light inaccessible."

This charming tradition, which says that the physical
beauty was .renewed and increased in the body of Elizabeth^
after her soul was delivered from it, has been faithfully fol-

* */

' lowed by the unknown artist who sculptured tne principal
events of her life upon the altars at Marburg, and who has
represented her exposed on the bier, as far more lovely in
her death-sleep, than in all the other subjects.

It was not the sight alone that was rejoiced in this sad
moment by the body of the youthful saint ; there exhaled
from it a delicious perfume, which was a type of the grace
and virtue of which it had been the mortal covering. Pious
souls remembered the words of the wise man, when he said

844 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

that " the memory of the just is like the odour of an aromatic
balm."

" This wonderful fragrance," says the writer whom we
previously quoted, " served to console the poor and all the
iv.ople for the loss they had sustained ; this heefvenly balm
gently soothed their weariness, and stayed the sad . flow of
their tears and regrets, by the assurance they received from
this miraculous sign, that, though the holy one was dead,
she could still be, even more than during her lifetime, the
charitable mother of the poor the certain refuge of the
afflicted, and that the odoriferous incense of her prayers,
ascending for ever to the throne of Divine Majesty, would
obtain graces for all those who invoked her in their neoessi-.
ties."

On the fourth day after her death, her obsequies were
celebrated with the greatest solemnity. This pure and pre-
cious treasure, this rich and dazzling jewel, was hidden un-
der an humble stone in the chapel of her hospital, in pre-
sence of the Abbots and Religious of several neighbouring
monasteries, and a crowd of people, whose grief was violent,
but most expressive, and whom it required the best efforts
of the clergy to keep in order.

It was certainly a wonderful homage, that paid to the
departed saint on this occasion ; but with the grief of these
simple ones, many hearts beat with sentiments truly worthy
of her, for all raised their voices to heaven in accents of fer-
vent devotion and pious gratitude, which they experienced,
in having been permitted to see one, whose example was so
glorious and so worthy of imitation.

But the Lord reserved for His friend a still sweeter and
more affecting homage.

On the night preceding the solemnization of the last rites,
the Abbess of Wechere, who had come to assist at the fu-
neral ceremony, heard a harmony which astonished her ex

OF HUNGARY. 345

tremely ; she went outside, accompanied by several persons,
to learn whence it proceeded and they saw on the roof of
the church an immense number of birds, of a species un-
known to men before that time, and these sung in tones so
sweet and varied, that all who listened were filled with ad-
miration. These little creatures seemed to celebrate this
glorious burial-service. They were, according to the opinions
of some, the angels who had borne Elizabeth's happy soul
to heaven, and who had now returned to honour her body
by their hymns of celestial gladness.

"These little birds," says St. Bonaventure, "rendered
testimony to her purity by speaking of her in their language
at her burial, and singing with such wondrous sweetness over
her tomb. He who spoke by the mouth of an ass, to reprove
the folly of a prophet, could as well proclaim by tbe voice of
birds the innocence of a saint."

346 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER XXXI.

9T TI1E WONDERFUL MIRACLES OBTAINED FROM GOD BY THE INTER-
CESSION OF THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH, AND HOW ANXIOUSLY HEH
BROTHER-IN-LAW, DUKE CONRAD, WISHED TO HAVE HER CANON-
IZED.

" la vita BUS fecit monstra, et in morte mirabilia operatns est"

Eccl. slviii. 15.

THE Lord delayed not the manifestation of the miraculous
power with which He was pleased henceforth to invest her
whose whole life had been but one long act of humility. To
the invincible love which had preferred in this world, loneli-
ness and misery for His sake, He hastened to bestow, as a
sure pledge of victory, the right of disposing of the treasures
of heaven.

On the second day after her funeral, a certain monk of
the order of Citeaux came to kneel at her tomb and to request
her assistance. For more than forty years, this unhappy one
languished from an interior grief, a bitter heart-wound, that
no human remedy could heal ; but after having invoked this
zealous consolatrix of all sufferings, with a firm faith, he felt
himself delivered from the yoke under which he had so long
mourned ; and this he testified upon oath before Master Con-
rad and the Curate of Marburg. This was the first cure op-
erated by her intercession ; and it is interesting to remark how
this tender and loving soul, who had endured so many heart-
felt sorrows during her life, should have chosen as the first ob-
ject of her merciful interposition in heaven, one of those painful
Interior trials which the science of man knows not how to heal,
nor even to compassionate.

Some little time after, there came to her tomb a prelate

S^&j5K?y?%?g&^^

OF HUNGARY. 34?

of most illustrious birth and high ecclesiastical dignity : history
has not recorded his name, but has accused him of having
beel addicted to all excesses of vice, which the sacred charac-
ter of his office rendered still more odious. Oftentimes a
prey to remorse and shame, he had recourse to the tribunal
of penance, but fruitlessly ; at the first temptation, he yielded
again, and his relapses became more and more scandalous
and deplorable. Still he struggled against his frailty, and,
sin-stained as he was, he came to seek strength at the shrine
of the pure and holy Elizabeth. He prayed, and invoked
her protection and intercession, whilst shedding a torrent of
tears, and remained kneeling for many hours, absorbed in
fervour and deep contrition. He ceased not his ardent sup-
plications, until in his soul he felt convinced that they had
reached the Mercy-seat, and that the Lord had listened to
the petition that his well-beloved Elizabeth had presented in
the name of this poor victim of sin ; he felt himself indued
with a spiritual strength far greater than the impulses of
vice ; and from that moment, as he declared when confessing
to Master Conrad, the sting of the flesh was so vanquished
in him, that thenceforward he had but to struggle against
trivial temptations, which he was enabled to overcome quite
easily.

Many other souls, suffering and oppressed under the chains
of sin, learned to shake them off near the resting-place of
this holy woman, who in her life-time had so nobly rent
them asunder ; of these, the most frequently recorded are of
men who learned to triumph over the passions of hatred,
pride, avarice, and anger ; and surely, to escape from such
gins, they could not follow a more faithful guide than her
who had humbled herself to the lowest who had given her
whole being to God, and all her wealth to His, poor and=
who had passed her life in the practice of universal love and
forgiveness !

R48 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

Not only did spiritual infirmities experience the effects of
her efficacious piety ; physical sufferings and infirmities, such
as she had so continually soothed during her life, though
losing in her the compassionate nurse, received instead, a
share of the new and wonderful power which rendered her,
by God's mercy, their unfailing healer and most skilful phy-
sician.

An interesting narrative informs us how quickly she exer-
cised this benevolent faculty, and how her glorified -soul re-
tained the gentle familiarity with the humble and the poor,
which was the great charm of her mortal life. At the Mo-
nastery of Reynhartsbrunn, where Duke Louis reposed -with
his ancestors, there was a lay-brother, who filled the office
of miller ; he was a man of fervent piety, who practised
many austerities. Amongst others, he always wore an iron
cuirass on his body, the better to mortify the flesh. The
Duchess, in her frequent visits to the Abbey, had remarked
this poor brother, and entertained for him, on account of his
sanctity, a special affection. One day when she had come to
pray at the tomb of her husband, she met the brother miller
and spoke to him with great kindness ; she exacted from him
a promise of joining with her in a mutual and spiritual com-
munity of prayers, in pledge of which she extended her hand
and took his, notwithstanding the resistance of the humble
monk, who, in his simplicity, blushed at touching the hand
of so illustrious a lady. Some time after, as he was re-
pairing some of the implements of his occupation, one of the
sails of the mill suddenly struck him, and shattered his
arm. He suffered extreme torture from this accident, but
he waited patiently until it should .please the Lord to give
him relief. During the night of the 19th November, whilfc
(he soul of his noble and holy sister was returning to God
who made it, the brother miller was keeping vigil, praying .in
His abbey-church, and groaning with the pain of his broken

' -?> ''* "*

OF HOdGART. S4S

arm. Suddenly he saw the Duchess Elizabeth appear before
him, clad in royal robes, and resplendent with a wonderful
light She said to him, with her accustomed gentleness
" What dost thou, good Brother Yolkmar, and how art
thpu ?" Though alarmed and dazzled by the clear brilliancy
that shone around her, he recognised her and said " How is
it, dear lady, that you who, ordinarily, were clothed in such
miserable garments, have now such beautiful and gorgeous
raiment ?" " It is because my condition is changed," she
replied ; and then she raised his right hand that which she
had formerly taken as a sign of friendship that which had
been shattered by the mill, and healed it.

This touching of the wounded member seemed so "painful
to him, that he awoke, as if from a dream, and found hia
hand and arm entirely sound and well. He then thanked the
Lord, and that dear sister who had thought of him on hei
entrance into heaven.

But still greater prodigies took place on the days imme-
diately after her obsequies ; unhappy creatures, suffering
under painful maladies deaf, lame, blind, idiots, lepers,
paralytics, some of whom had come, thinking her still alive,
to implore her assistance all of whom were cured, aftei
praying in the chapel wherein she rested. Contemporary
writers have left us authentic details of these wonders ; of
the many, we will relate but one, the truth of which waa
sworn to before the Apostolic Judges ; it will afford the reader
gome idea of the others

A man of Marburg named Henry, aged forty years, had
foi some time such weak sight that he often mistook cornfields
for the high road, and ^this drew upon him the ridicule of hig
companions.

At length he became entirely blind, and had to be led
wherever he wished to go. He had himself guided to th
tomb of her who was already denominated the happy Eliza*

3{>0 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

beth, &nd. he made a vow to her and offered two wax tapers,
The judges asked him what words he used when invoking her,
and he repeated the following :

" Dear Lady, St. Elizabeth, cure my eyes, and I will al

' ways be thy faithful servant, and I will pay each year two

oence to thy hospital" and immediately he received clearei

sight than he had ever before possessed ; this happened on

the fifteenth day after the death of the saint.

The account of these wonders spread rapidly throughout
the neighbourhood of Marburg, and greater crowds daily
came to solicit relief from their respective sufferings ; the
Divine Mercy responded to the faith of the Christian people,
and granted to the prayers of those who petitioned Elizabeth
as their advocate numerous and palpable graces.

Master Conrad, watchful of the glorious effects of a life for
which he was in some degree responsible, and some part of
the renown of which he could assume with just reason, failed
not to communicate to Pope Gregory IX. an account of the
miracles which the Divine Power had been pleased to work
at the tomb of the glorious dead, and, of the ever increasing
veneration of the people towards her ; this he requested him
to confirm, by solemnly declaring her right to the invocation
of the faithful. Notwithstanding that ninety years had rolled
over the illustrious Pontiff, his heart was still youthful with
love and solicitude for the honour of Grod and of the Church ;
he already had the happiness of canonizing Saint Erancis of
Assisium, and had in this same year inscribed by the side of
the Seraph Saint in heaven, his most illustrious disciple, St.
Anthony of Padua. The holy Pope then replied to Conrad with
affectionate haste, but also with consummate prudence, " We
have learned from thy letter," wrote 'he, "dear son, Conrad,
with tears of sweet joy, how the glorious Master, whose power
is unlimited, has blessed His servant Elizabeth of illustrious
memory, during her life, our dearest daughter in Jesus Christ

*'^^3ES3p^^^^ : r "^' v ". > V 1 '*-''- '^^ ~':^ - :: '^f-.^. :::<":

"OF HUNGARY. 351

itnd Duchess of Tlmringia ; how from weak and fragile as she
was by nature, He by His grace made her strong unalter-
able in the worship of His divine name and how after admit
ting her to the assembly of the Saints, He has manifested by
glorious signs the beatitude which He has granted unto her."

Meanwhile the Pontiff remembering that all that glistens is
not gold, and wishing to remove every shadow of doubt from
minds even the most sceptical, he commanded the Archbishop
of Mayence, the Abbot of Eberbach, and Master Conrad, to
collect all the public and solemn testimonies on every circum-
stance in the life of the Duchess that could have been agreeable
to G-od and man, as well as of the miracles which had been
wrought after her death ; and after having re-written these
depositions to affix to them their seals, and to send them to
Rome by trust-worthy messengers. He prescribed at the
same time the forms which were to be observed in the exami-
nation of witnesses, with an attention even to the most minute
details, which proves at once his care and wisdom in this de-
licate affair.

Sigefrid, Archbishop of Mayence, in whose diocese the city
of Marburg and the tomb of Elizabeth were situated, had
been equally impressed with admiration at the wonders the
Divine Goodness was pleased to work amongst his flock.
At the request of Master Conrad, and in the fulfilment of a
revelation made to him in a vision, he went to Marburg to
consecrate solemnly, on the feast of St. Lawrsace (10th Au-
gust, 1232), two Altars which the faithful had erected in ho-
nour of Elizabeth in the chapel in which she was interred.
An immense multitude had assembled to assist at this cere-
mony, as well as to listen to the sermon which Master Con-
rad was to preach in commemoration of his illustrious penitent.
During his discourse he remembered that he could not have a
more favourable opportunity of fulfilling the mandate of tne
Pope, so without further reflection, he enjoined all those

852 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

amongst his auditory who had obtained any cure or heavenly
favour through the intercession of the Duchess, to present .
themselves with their witnesses on the next morning at tho
hour of Prime, before the Archbishop of Mayence, and the
other Prelates who had come to assist at the dedication of the
Altars.

At the appointed time a considerable number of persona
were assembled, all of whom affirmed that they had received
graces through the intercession of Elizabeth : as the Arch-
bishop was obliged to depart on account of some very pressing
business, he waited only till the most remarkable statements
were written out ; he could not seal them, neither could the
other Prelates, as none of them had brought their episcopal
seals.

Master Conrad copied these depositions word for word, aad
received many others on oath ; and after having re-read the
entire for the Archbishop of Mayence, and the abbot of Eber-
bach, who found nothing to change therein, he forwarded
them to the Pope together with an account of the life of Eliza-
beth from his own recollections. This precious memorial has
been preserved, and forms the most ancient source from which
the historian of the saint's life could derive information. This
first enumeration of miracles transmitted by Master Conrad,
contains detailed accounts of thirty-seven sudden and super-
natural cureSj made out according to the Pope's directions,
with the most precise references, as to places, dates and per-
sons, as well as the form of prayer used in each case. The
greater numb'er of these recitals excite in us at least the deep-
est interest. In them we perceive that the sufferers who had
recourse to her, spoke always when seeking her assistance in
the tender and familiar language which 'her extreme humility,
had permitted during her life : " Dear Saint Elizabeth," said
they, " cure my limb and I will ever be thy faithful servant.'*
Or, " Dear sainted lady and Duchess Elizabeth, I recommend

Sfigf^lJ^Sip^-^:^

OF HUNGARY. 353

to thee my daughter." ." blessed Elizabeth," cried a poor
mother, whose son had died and was about to be buried,
" why have I thus lost my child ? come to my assistance and
bring him again to life." In a moment after the pulses of
the -child began to beat, he was restored from the dead, and
after having for a long time striven to speak, he said towards
midnight, " Where am I,Jbeloved ?" He had not as yet re-
cognised his mother.

Another poor woman, whose daughter had been for five
years suffering from painful infirmities, amongst others, from
enormous tumours on the back and breast, brought her to the
tomb of Elizabeth and remained there for two days in prayer.
At the end of that time thinking that her supplications were
unheeded, she murmured loudly against the saint, saying,
" As thou hast not listened to me, I will hinder every one
from coming to thy sepulchre." In this irritated mood she
left Marburg, but had not g^ne beyond a mile and a half,
when the screams and agony of her daughter obliged her to
rest near a fountain in the village of Rosdorf ; the girl slept
for a few minutes, and when she awoke she said that she had
seen a beauteous lady whose hands were smooth and white,
that she had laid her hands gently on the sorest parts of her
body, while saying to her, "Arise and walk," and imme-
diately the young girl cried out, " O my mother, I feel my-
self recovered in all my body." They returned together to
the tomb to give thanks to the saint, and left there the bas-
ket in which the sufferer had been carried.

A young man whose limbs were paralysed, and who was
also affected with a spinal malady, was brought in a chariot
to the grave of the Duchess, where the pain in his back was
cured, and as they brought him home he said, " Saint Eliza-
beth, I return no more to thy shrine, unless tLat by thy mer-
cy I can go there on my feet ; but indeed I will go if thoo
obtainest for me that favour." Some days after, on the feast

854 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

of All Saints, he found that strength was entirely restored to
his limbs, and that he was thus enabled to accomplish his
vow.

It is almost with regret that we discontinue these anec-
dotes, so replete are they with precious traces of the faith and
manners of that age.

This collection of testimony was not completed until the
first months of the year 1233, and their transmission to Rome
was delayed by some cause unknown to us. Before they
were sent Conrad had perished, the victim of his zeal for the
faith.

The boldness with which he accused and pursued the nobles
and even powerful princes when once their tendency to heresy
was suspected, excited their terrible hatred and rancour against
him, and these feelings were augmented by the excessive, and
perhaps sometimes, unjust severity of many of his proceedings
On the 30th of July, as he was journeying from Mayence to
Marburg, he was surprised near the village of Kappel by sev-
eral squires and vassals of the Count de Sayn, whom he had
accused of heresy ; they darted upon him and strangled him.
The assassins wished to spare his disciple and companion, Bro-
ther Gerard, a Franciscan, but he clung so closely to his mas-
ter that it was impossible to kill one without the other. The
bodies of Conrad and his friend were carried to Marburg with
the deep regret of the people. He was interred in the same
chapel with the Duchess, and at a little distance from her se-
pulchral stone.

The death of Conrad, who had so faithfully watched over
her posthumous glory, as he had over her soul's weal during
her life, was a great obstacle in the way of the canonization of
Elizabeth, which so many faithful souls had desired and hoped
for. Some of the proofs that he had collected were neglectec 1
. or lost, and tb.3 popular feeling on the subject "began to de
line.

OFHTJNGAKY 355

But the Lord delayed not to raise up a new and zealous
defender of the glory of His humble servant, and that at the
time that it was least expected. Of the two brothers left by
Duke Louis, husband of our dear Elizabeth, and of whose
base conduct towards their sister-in-law we have read, tbe
elder, Henry, governed the dominions during the minority of
Hermann, son of Louis ; the other, Conrad, revelled in all the
unbridled indulgence that youthfut'passion- could suggest. In
1232, on account of a penance inflicted by the Archbishop of
Ma'yence on the abbot of Reynhartsbrunn, who was always
protected by the House of Thuringia, the Landgrave Conrad
was so angry -with the Prelate that he rushed upon him in
the assembled chapter at Erfurth, dragged him by the hair,
threw him on the ground and would have stabbed him but
that his servants interfered. But not content with this ex-
cess, he began to ravage the possessions of the See of May
ence, and amongst other places the city of Eritzlar.

He took it by assault, and to revenge the derision with
which he had been regarded by the inhabitants during the
siege, he set fire to the town, and burned its convents,
churches, and a great number of the people. He then re-
tired to his castle of Tenneberg ; where he was soon touched
by the hand of God.

There came to his gate one day, a girl of bad character,
who asked him for some relief ; the Landgrave reproached het
severely on the infamy of her life ; the unfortunate creature
replied, that dire want had forced her to it, and gave him such
a startling account of this misery that he was so far moved as
to promise her to provide for her future wants in case she re-
nounced her criminal ways. This incident produced a power-
ful effect on his mind ; he passed the whole night in extreme
agitation, reflecting how much more guilty he was than the
nnhappy woman whom he had insulted, whom poverty had
impelled to vice, whilst he, who was -rich and powerful, made

356 LIFE OP ST. ELIZABETH,

BO bad a use of all God's gifts. In the morning he communi-
cated these thoughts to his companions in crime and violence,
and learned with extreme surprise that they had made the
same reflections ; they regarded this interior voice, speaking
to them simultaneously, as a warning from Heaven, and they
resolved to do penance and to amend their lives.

They went first on a pilgrimage barefooted to Gladenbach,
and thence to Rome, to obtain from the Pope himself absolu-
tion of their sins.

When they arrived at Rome (1233), Conrad gave an ex-
ample of the most sincere repentance and fervent piety.
Every day he received at his table twenty-four poor people
whom he served himself. The Pope gave him absolution on
condition of being reconciled with the Archbishop of Mayenca
and with all those whom he had wronged, of building and en-
dowing a monastery in place of those he had burned, of mak-
ing a public apology at the ruins of Fritzlar, and of entering
himself into a religious order. Whilst he was thus returning
to God, the remembrance of his holy and humble sister-in-law,
whom he had despised and persecuted, presented itself to his
rnind ; he resolved to atone for the injuries he had done her
by labouring to extend her glory ; and in the conversations he
had with the Sovereign Pontiff he spoke of her great sanctity
and urged her speedy canonization.

Immediately after his return to Germany he hastened to
fulfil the conditions of his absolution. He went to Fritzlar,
where those who had escaped from the massacre of the inha-
bitants had taken refuge near the ruins of the principal mo-
nastery ; he prostrated himself before them and begged of
them for the love of God to forgive him the injury he had
done.

He then walked in procession, barefooted, with a whip in
his hand, he knelt at the Church-porch and invited all who
wished to do so to come and administer to him the discipline

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57^'-^; : >^'':e^^;/;l^v^v:%::'^;'-^;S f >'-^----' ; ^a/-? : ;-'"" '"'/-'" X'k; : ;'\v ^~''i-^Y- : '."-'-'~' : -- : '^'Sy'

OFHUNGARr. ' 357

Of all the crowd there was found but one willing to punish
him, and that was an old woman who advanced and gave him
several stripes on the back which he endured with great pa-
tience. He then set about re-constructing the Monastery
and the Church where he established canons ; and at the same
time he conceded many important privileges to the town of
Fritzlar At his return to Eisenach, with the assistance of
his brother Henry, he founded a convent of Friars Preachers,
under the invocation of St. John, but for the special intention
of his sister-in-law Elizabeth, to atone for his having been an
accomplice in. exposing her to the bitter sufferings she had
endured in that same town of Eisenach after her cruel expul-
sion from Wartburg.

From this time forward the young Landgrave devoted him-
self to the extension of Elizabeth's glory, with a zeal similar
to that of the deceased Master Conrad. Having decided
ipon entering the Teutonic Order, he took the habit and Cross
in the Church of the hospital of St. Francis, which Elizabeth
iiad founded at Marburg ; he made his brother confirm the
donation that she had made to the hospital, with the property
irarrounding it to these knightly monks, and added all his own
possessions in Hesse and Thuringia. He obtained also a re-
cognition of these settlements by the Pope, and that this hos-
pital thus become one of the strongholds of the Teutonic Order,
should be exempt from all episcopal jurisdiction, and endowed
with many other rights and prerogatives, all in honour of the
Duchess Elizabeth, who was interred there, in - order, as he
eaid in his petition to the Pope, that this sacred body, already-
celebrated by the veneration of the faithful, should enjoy the
privilege of liberty.

Meanwhile he earnestly entreated the Pope to make a so
lemn recognition of the graces that God granted daily through
the intercession of Elizabeth. The Pope yielded at length to
fails prayers, and wishing, says a contemporary writer, th*t.

358 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

the pious simplicity of the Church militant should not be de
ceived, if the facts brought forward were not proved, but also
that the Church triumphant should not be deprived of this
addition to its glory, if the truth was found equa to the re-
nown, in a brief dated the 5th of the Ides of October, 1234,
the Pontiff charged the Bishop of Hildesheim, the abbots
Hermann de Georgenthal and Raymond de Herford to proceed
to a new examination of the miracles attributed to Elizabeth.
In this brief he also ordered the three Commissaries to send
him the result of the inquiries made before by the Archbishop
of Mayehce and Master Conrad, and in case they could not
find these, to take in writing the testimony of the persons pre
viously examined, and of all others who could afford more in-
formation, and to send all to Rome before the expiration of five
months from the receipt of this letter. The Bishop and his
colleagues, docile to the injunctions of the Sovereign Pontiff,
had this brief published in the surrounding dioceses, and
appointed a day for all the faithful who knew of any cure or
grace obtained through the intercession of the Duchess to come
to Marburg, and where possible, that these facts should be
attested by their prelates and" pastors. On the day fixed the
Apostolic Commissaries went to Marbourg, where they found
assembled several thousand persons come from all parts of
Europe, with many of the Abbots of the Cistercian and Pre-
monstratensian Orders, a great number of Priors, and of
Friars Minors and Preachers, of Canons regular of the Teu-
tonic Order, and of many other learned and prudent men. The
witnesses made their depositions on oath before this solemn
tribunal ; their testimonies were scrupulously weighed and
examined by ecclesiastical lawyers and professors of juris-
prudence.

We do not recognise in this inquiry any names but those
of the four attendants of the Duchess, Guta who had lived
with her from her fifth year, Ysentrude her confidant and best

OF HUNGARY. 359

friend, Elizabeth and Irinengarde who had been in her ser-
vice during her sojourn at Marburg. These four then de-
tailed all they knew of the life of their mistress ; these price-
less narratives have been preserved entire, and have furnished-
us with most of the interesting and touching anecdotes that
we have related in the course of this history. The deposi-
tions of most of the other witnesses referred to miracles ob-
tained through her intercession ; amongst the immense num-
ber reported, we remark the resuscitation of several persons
from the dead. An hundred and twenty-nine cases were
judged the worthiest of being transcribed and forwarded to
Rome, after having been read and sealed by the Bishop of
Hildesheim and the other Prelates and Abbots. The Abbot
Bernard de Buch, Salomon Magnus, a Dominican, and Bro-
ther Conrad of the Teutonic Order, formerly Landgrave and
brother-in-law of the Saint, were appointed to bring to the
Pope the result of this examination, as well as of that made
three years before by Master Conrad. They were at the
same time the bearers of letters from a great number of
Bishops, Abbots, Princes, Princesses, and nobles of every de-
gree, who humbly requested the common Father of the faith-
ful, to confirm her right to veneration on earth who had already
received the felicitations of the angels, and not to sufter tho
pure flame of celestial charity, enkindled by the hand of God
to serve as an example t@ the world, to be obscured by the va-
pours of contempt, or extinguished by the scoffing of heresy.

360 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH WAS CANONIZED BY POPE OREGON?
AND THE GREAT JOT AND VENERATION OF THE FAITHFUL IS
GERMANY ON THE OCCASION OF THE EXALTATION OF HER EEL-
IOS AT MARBURG.

" Annuntiaverunt cceli justitiam qjus, et viderunt omnes populi gloriam ejua."

Ps. xcvi.

" Mlhi auteui nimis honoriflcati sunt, amici tui, Dens."

Ps. cxxxii. 16.

IN the spring-time of the year 1235, the Pope was at Peru-
gia, in the same city where seven years before he had canon-
ized St. Francis of Assisium, when the penitent Conrad
with the other messengers presented themselves before him to
request that he would inscribe amongst the blessed ones of
Heaven, and beside the seraphic father, the young and hum-
ble woman, who had been in Germany his first-born Minorite
child, and the most ardent of his disciples. Their arrival
made a great impression on the clergy and the people.

The Pontiff opened their despatches in presence of the
Cardinals, of .the principal prelates of the Roman court, and
of a number of the clergy who had come to listen to them ; he
communicated all the details transmitted of the life of Eliza-
beth and. of the miracles attributed to her. They were greatly
surprised, we are informed, and affected even to tears by so
much humility, so much love of the poor and of poverty, so
many wonders wrought by grace from on high. Nevertheless
the Pope resolved to use the greatest vigilance and severity hr
tne examination of these miracles ; he proceeded to it with the
cautiousness which characterized him, and scrupulously ob-

OF HtTNwART. 361

served all the formalities required to dissipate eveii the least
shadow of doubt. The care and exactness which were used
in this discussion were so remarkable, that it merited to be
cited as a model after the lapse of fire centuries, by Benedict
XIV., one of the most illustrious successors of Gregory IX.
All these precautions, however, served but to render the truth
more i/icontestible and brilliant ; the more severe was the ex-
amination in respect to facts and persons, the more complete"
was fcLeir certainty shown ; and to use the language of con-
temporary writers, the ploughshare of apostolic authority in
passing over this yet unexplored field, brought to light an
immense treasure of sanctity ; and it was plainly seen that the
hand of the Lord had guided the dear Elizabeth through the
buffetings of the tempestuous waves of earthly tribulation, and
landed her upon the shore of eternal repose.

In a Consistory presided over by the sovereign Pontiff, and
at which assisted the Patriarchs of Antioch and Jerusalem,
and a great number of Cardinals, the officially-authenticated
documents on the life and sanctity of Elizabeth were read ;
and all with one accord declared that, without delay, her glo-
rious name should be inscribed in the catalogue of the saints
on earth, as it was already written in the Book of Life, as
had been wonderfully proved by the Lord Himself.

This history was also read to the people, whose piety was
profoundly affected by it, and who, filled with admiration,
sried out, " Canonization, Most holy Father, Canonization.
a,nd that without delay." The Pope required no further pres-
sing to yield to this wonderful unanimity, and to give more
splendour to the ceremony of canonization he decided that it
should take place on Pentecost day, (26th May, 1235).

Duke Conrad, whose zeal was redoubled by the success of
his efforts, engaged tc make all the preparations necessary for
this imposing solemnity.

The day of the great feast having arrived, the Pope, ae-
16

302 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

companied by the patriarchs, cardinals, and prelates, and fol-
lowed by several thousand people, with the sound of trumpets
and other instruments of music, walked in procession to the
convent of the Dominicans at Perugia; every one, from the
Pope to the lowest of the people, carried tapers which the
Landgrave had provided at his own expense.

The procession entered the Church, and the preparatory
0-remonies having been performed, the Cardinal Deacon, as-
sistant of the Pope, read in a loud voice for the faithful, an
account of the life and miracles of Elizabeth, in the midst of
the acclamations of the people, and the torrents of tears of
holy joy and pious enthusiasm which flowed from the eyes of
these fervent Christians, happy in counting thus a new and
powerful friend in Heaven. After this, the Pope requested
all present to join him in praying that God would not permit
them to be deceived in this matter. When every one was
kneeling the Pope entoned the Veni Creator Spiritus, which
was all sung by the assembly. When the hymn was termi-
nated the Cardinal Deacon at the Pope's right hand said, Flee-
tamus genua, and then his Holiness and all the . people knelt
and prayed during a certain time ; then the Cardinal on the
left said, Levate, and all arose. The Pope was enthroned
and assumed the mitre, then he declared Elizabeth a Saint in
the following words :

" In honour of the Almighty God, the Father and the Son
and the Holy Ghost, for the exaltation of the Catholic Faith
and the increase of the Christian religion, by the authority of
the same omnipotent God, by that of the blessed Apostles,
Peter and Paul, and by our own, we declare and define that
Elizabeth of happy memory, in her life-time Duchess of Thu-
ringia, is a saint, and should be inscribed in the catalogue of
the saints. We insert her name there ourselves, and at the
same time ordain that the Universal Church celebrate foe*
Feast and Office with due solemnity and devotion, every yeal

on tLe anniversary day of her death, the 13th. of the Kalenda
of December. And in addition, by the same authority, we
grant to all the faithful, who with true contrition shall have
confessed their sins and shall visit her tomb on that day, ap
indulgence of one year and forty days."

The sound of organs and the peal of bells hailed the last
words of the Pontiff, who having soon after laid down his-
mitre entoned the canticle of joy, Te Denm, laudamus, which
was sung by the congregation with harmony and enthusiasm
sufficient to ascend even to the Heavens. A Cardinal: Deacon
at its conclusion said in a loud voice :

Ora pro nobis Sancta Elisabeth. Alleluia I

and the Pope chaunted the collect or prayer, which he had
himself composed in honour of the new saint. Then the Car-
dinal Deacon said the Confiteor, inserting therein the name of
Elizabeth immediately after those of the Apostles ; and the
Pope gave, the usual absolution and benediction, making men-
tion of her when commemorating the merits and. prayers of
the Saints. The solemn Mass was then celebrated ; at the Of-
fertory three of the Cardinal Judges laid on the Altar suc-
cessively, the/ mystical oblations of tapers, bread, and 1 win&;
with two turtle-doves, as emblems of the contemplative and;
solitary life, and two doves representing the active, but pure,
and faithful life, and finally, a cage full of little birds, which
were set at liberty as symbols of the aspirings of holy souls,
to Godr

In the same convent of the Dominicans at Perugia, where
this ceremony had taken place, a new Altar was erected in
honour of the Saint, to which the Sovereign Pontiff attached
the privilege of an indulgence of thirty days for all who came
to pray there. This was then the first place where the vene
ration of the dear St. Elizabeth was officially celebrated, and
ever after the religious of that convent honoured her

S64 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

day by great solemnities, and by chaunting her office with
the same melodies used in that of their holy i'ather, St.
Dominic.

To increase the joy of this so happy day, the good Duke
Conrad invited to his own table three hundred religious, and
eent an abundance of bread, wine, fish, eggs, milk, &c. to
"Several convents in the neighbourhood, and particularly to
those of the poor Clares, to whom the new Saint seemed to be
a special Patroness in Heaven, after having been their rival
upon earth ; he also distributed to several thousand poor peo-
ple, in fact to all who sought relief, meat, bread, wine and
money, not in his own name, but in that of the Teutonic Or-
de?, and especially in honour of her who had ever been to the
poor a prodigal in generosity.

It was certainly the best way to do her homage that which
would most surely have brought a smile to her benign lips
We may imagine, with pleasurable emotion, the gladness of
these poor mendicants, to many of whom the renown of the
royal and holy stranger was manifested in so benevolent a
manner. Conrad's generosity so pleased the Pope that he
invited him to his own table, which was a great distinction,
made him sit by his side, and directed that all his attendants
should be treated magnificently. When he took leave in
order to return to Germany, the Pope granted all the favours
he requested for persons whose petitions were long under con-
sideration. Then he gave his Papal benediction, and when
embracing him shed many tears.

On the first of June, 1235, the Pope published the Bull of
Canonization, which was immediately forwarded to all the
. Princes and Bishops of the Church.

The following translation, with some corrections, is that
given by Father Appollinaris in his history, page 51ft

*KS??3^v^:^?:,J:7^S^ f.-'

OF HUNGARY. 36S

" GREGORY, SERVANT OF THE SERVANTS OF GOD.

'To all the Archbishops, Bishops, Abbots, Priors, Arch-
" deacons, Priests, and other prelates of the Church by whom
" these letters shall be received. Health.

" Tlie infinite Majesty of the Son of God, Jesus Christ,
" the sweet Saviour and Redeemer of our souls, considering
" from the highest Heavens the original nobleness and excel-
" lence of our condition, now disfigured and corrupted by the
" sin of our first parents, and by a multiplicity of miseries,
" vices and crimes, touched with compassion for His dearest
" creature, resolved to exert His omnipotent mercy, to deliver
" mankind seated in the shadow of death, and to recall poor
"exiles to the country of blessed liberty, judging it most
" reasonable in His divine and infinite wisdom, that as it is
" the duty of a workman who has commenced some master-
" piece to perfect it, and if through misfortune it should be-
" come decayed and lose its lustre, to repair and restore it to
"its first form ; so to Him beyond all others did it belong to
" redeem and to renew the original dignity of His fallen crea-
" ture. With these designs .He entered the narrow womb of
"the .most holy Virgin, (if we can call that narrow which
"was sufficient to contain Him who was infinite,) from His
" Heavenly throne He entered and concealed Himself within
" the virginal body of His most blessed mother, He there as-
"sumed the weakness of our nature, and from invisible that
" He was, He became visible ; by the adorable mystery of the
" incarnation, He tramples on, and overcomes the Prince of
" darkness, He triumphs over his malice by the glorious re-
" demption of the human race, and points out to His faithful
" by His divine instructions a certain path by which they can
" regain their true country.

" The blessed and gracious Elizabeth, of royal birth, and by
"alliance Duchess of Thuringia, considering with atttention

866 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

"and wisely understanding this admirable economy of oui
" salvation, courageously resolved to follow the footsteps of
" the Saviour, and to labour with all her strength in the
" practice of virtue ; in order to render herself worthy to be
" illumined with the eternal Light, from the dawning of her
" life until its evening, she never ceased to rejoice in the de-
" lights of celestial love, and with supernatural fervour she
"employed all the powers of hei heart to love solely and
"sovereignly Jesus Christ, our Saviour, who being true God
" and true eternal Son of God, became man and Son of the
" blessed Virgin, Queen of angels and of men ; a most pure
" and ardent love which replenished her with an abundance
" of heavenly sweetness, and imparted to her the divine
'' favours which are bestowed at the banquet of the adora'ble
" Lamb. . ,

" And being enlightened with this same ineffable clarity and
" acting as a true child of the Gospel, she saw in the person
" of her neighbour this divine Jesus, the only object of heir
" affection ; she loved Him with so admirable a charity that
"' her delight was to see herself surrounded by the poor, to
" live and converse with them ; she most dearly cherished
" those whose misery and disgusting maladies rendered them
" most horrible, and whose appearance would be sufficient to
" terrify the strongest hearts in the world : she so charitably
" distributed all her wealth amongst them that she left herself
" poor arrd indigent to supply all things necessary for them in
" abundance. She was but of that youthful age when chil-
" dren still require instructors, and already she was the good
'' mother, the guardian and protectress of the poor, and her
" heart was full of compassion for their sufferings.

" Having learned that the supreme Judge would in His
" last sentence make particular commemoration of the services
'* done Him, and that the entrance to eternal glory was, in a
rj at the disposal of the poor, she entertained sucb

OF HUNGARY. 367

1 an esteem for their condition, and strove with so much as
" siduity to conciliate the affection and favour of those whom
" people of her rank usually regard as contemptible and in-
" supportable, that not alone content with giving them alms
" from her abundant riches, exhausting her granaries, her
" coffers, and her purse to help them, she also renounced thf
" use of all delicacies prepared for her nourishment, and ri-
" gorously macerated her frail body by fasting and the pangs
" of hunger that they might fare better ; she constrained her-
" self to a perpetual parsimony that they might be more fully
" satiated, and she practised an increasing austerity that all
" things might be more easy to them ; virtues the more laud-
" able and meritorious, as they proceeded from her pure
" charity and abundant devotion, without being constrained
" or obliged to perform them by any person.

" What more can I say to you of her ? This noble prin-"'
" cess, renouncing all the pleasures that nature and her rank
" afforded her, and uniting all her desires into the single wish
" of pleasing and serving God, during the lifetime of the
" prince her husband, with his permission and retention of his
" rights over her, she promised and preserved a most faithful
" obedience to her confessor.

" But after the decease of her honoured spouse, esteeming
" the good life she had led up to that period as still imperfect,
" she assumed the holy habit, and lived the remainder of her
" days as a most perfect religious, honouring by her state and
" continual prayers the sacred and adorable mysteries of the
" death and bitter passion of our Saviour. blessed woman !
" admirable lady ! sweet Elizabeth ! Most justly did
"this name, which signifies being filled with God, suit you,
" since yci sc frequently satiated the poor creatures who are
" the images and representatives of God, seeing that they ara
" the dear members of His divine Son.

" You have most justly merited to receive the bread of

368 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

" angels, since you so often ministered to the angels and tei*
" restrial messengers of the King of Heaven.

" O blessed and most noble widow 1 more fruitful in
" grace, than during your honourable marriage you had been
" in children, you sought that strength in virtue which
" nature seems to deny to woman, and became a valiant war
<( rior against the enemies of our salvation. You have eon*
" quered them with the buckler of Faith, as the Apostle says,
" with the armour of Justice, the sword of the Spirit and of
' fervour, the Helmet of salvation, and the Lance of perse-
'' verancc.

" Thus most amiable did this dear Elizabeth render herself
11 to her immortal Spouse, always united to the Queen of vir-
" gins by the heartfelt affection she had for her service, and
" by the alliance of perfect conformity, following her example
' she bowed down her highness to the works of a most hum-
" ble servant ; thus did she also resemble her good patronesa
11 Elizabeth whose name she bore, and the venerable Zachary,
" by walking simply and without reproach in the ways of God,
" preserving with affection the grace of God in her inmost
" soul ; bringing it forth and manifesting it exteriorly by holy
" actions and continual good works ; increasing and nourish-
ing it by the constant acquisition of virtues, she thus
" merited at the close of her days to be received lovingly by
" Him, in whom alone we should put all our trust, and who
" has reserved for Himself the wonderful power of exalting
" the innocent and the humble, and who delivered her from the
" bonds of death to place her on a throne brilliant with light
"inaccessible. But while in the midst of the delights and
" riches of the eternal empire, triumphant in the company of
" the saints and angels, her spirit rejoices in the presence of
" God, and shines with splendour in the abyss of supreme
" glory ; her charity has, as it were, made her descend from
" that throne to enlighten us who live in this world's dark

Otf HUNQART. 369

"ress, and to console us by a great number of miracles, by
"virtue of which good Catholics are confirmed and in-
" creased in Faith, in Hope, and in Charity, infidels are
"illumined and informed of the true way of sahation, and
"hardened heretics cover their faces with shame and confu-
" sion.

" For the enemies of the Church seeing before their eyes,
"are unable to deny, that by the merits of her, who, while
"in the prison of the flesh, was a lover of poverty, full
"of sweetness and mercy, who wept frequently not only
"for her own sins, but through an excess of charity for
"those of others, who hungered after justice, who led a
"most pure and innocent life, and who in the continual per-
"secution and opprobrium by which she was assailed, pre-
" that by the earnest invocation of this faithful spouse of
"Jesus Christ, the dead are miraculously restored to life,
" light is given to the blind, hearing to the deaf, speech to
" the dumb, and the lame are enabled to walk. Thus the
" miserable heretics, full of rage and envy, notwithstanding
" their fury and the poison wherewith they would infect all
" Germany, are forced to behold in this same country the
" religion which they would fain eradicate, arising gloriously,
" and with unspeakable joy triumphing over their malice and
" impiety.

" These wonders having been attested before us, and
"supported by incontestible proofs, with the advice of our
" brethren the venerable patriarchs, Archbishops and Bishops,
" arid other prelates at our court assembled, according to the
' duty of our office, which obliges us to watch diligently over
*' all that tends to the greatci- glory of our Saviour, we have
" inscribed Elizabeth in the catalogue of the saints, and
u enjoin you to cause her feast to be celebrated solemnly on
" the thirteenth day of the Kalends of December, being thai
16* -

370

LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

" on which she burst the bonds of death, and was admitted
" to the fountain of supreme delights : that by her interces
" sion we may obtain what she already obtained from Christ,
" and which she will gloriously enjoy for eternity. And also,
" to employ the power which is committed to us from Oi
" High to enable the universal faithful to taste of these de-
" lights of the invisible court, and to exalt the name of the
" Almighty by causing Him to be honoured by the crowds
" who will come to the venerated sepulchre of His spouse,
" full of confidence in the mercy of the Omnipotent, by the
" authority of the blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, we
" bounteously grant an indulgence of one year and forty days
" to . all those pious men and women, who having worthily
" confessed their- sins with contrition shall come there on her
" festival-day, and during its Octave to offer their prayers and
" supplications.

"Given at Perugia, in the Kalends of June, in the Ninth
" year of our Pontificate."

Scarcely had this bull been published, when the Pope
seems to have been anxious to express his love and admira-
tion for the . new saint in a still more special manner. In
seeking some one to whom he could address himself to un-

burthen his heart of the emotions with which it was filled, he
thought of writing to a sovereign whom he cherished on
account of her piety and devotion to the holy see : this was
Beatrice, daughter of Philip, King of the Romans, and wife
to Ferdinand III., king of Castile and Leon, since canonized.
On the tth of June, the Pontiff directed to her a long epistle,
wherein he praised the virtues of Elizabeth, and in support
of them quoted many scriptural texts. " During these past
days," writes he, " there has been presented to us, according
to the expression of Jesus son of Sirach, an admirable vessel,
ihe work of the Most High, destined to serve as a furnace of
charity by the ardour of its good works. This vessel of

OF HUNGARY 3*/l

election, consecrated to the Lord, is no other than St. Eliza-
beth, whose name, interpreted signifies, Satiety of God, because
she often satisfied God in the persons of the poor and the
sick.

" She nourished the Lord with three loaves which she bor-
rowed from her friend in the night of her tribulation the
bread of truth, the bread of charity, and the bread of courage.
***** This Elizabeth, so great a lover of the eternal
felicity, served to the table of the Master of Heaven and
earth three precious viands, in renouncing all He forbids, in
obeying all He ordains, in accomplishing all He counsels.
***** y es> s h e j s truly one of whom it is written, an
admirable vessel, the work of the Most High.- A vessel admi-
rable by the virtue of her humility, the lowliness of her body,
the tenderness of her compassion, which shall be admired
throughout all ages! . Oh vessel of election, vessel of mercy!
Thou hast offered to the tyrants and to the great ones of this
world the wine of true compunction! Behold, from amongst
them, already one, thy brother Conrad, lately Landgrave,
still young and beloved by the world, whom thou hast so
inebi'iated with this sacred drink, that forsaking all dignities,
and renouncing all, even to his tunic, he has escaped, as it
were, naked, from the hands of those who crucify the Saviour
and taken refuge under the shadow of the Cross, which sacred
seal he has impressed upon his heart. Again, behold thy
sister, the virgin Agnes, daughter of the king of Bohemia,
who in her so tender age fled from the imperial magnificence
as from a venomous reptile, and, seizing the triumphant banner
of the Cross, walks before her spouse, accompanied by a train
of consecrated virgins. Work of the Most High ! a new
wonder which the Lord has wrought upon the earth, since St.
Elizabeth enshrined Jesus Christ in her heart since, by her
love, she conceived and brought Him to the world and nour-
ished Him. The Devil, our enemv, raised two .great walls to

372 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH^

bide from our eyes the splendour of the eternal Light : these
are, the ignorance of our minds and the concupiscence of the
flesh. But St. Elizabeth, taking refuge in her humility, over
threw the wall of ignorance, and levelled the barriers of pride
so as to enjoy ihe inaccessible Light ; she uprooted concupis-
cence from her soul, and perfectly detached her heart from all
terrestrial affection, the more surely to gain the only true and
divine Love.

" Already has she been introduced by the Virgin Mother
of God to the couch of her heavenly Spouse. She is blessed
amongst all women, and crowned with a diadem of ineffable
glory; an<? whilst the Church triumphant rejoices in her pres-
ence, she glorifies the Church militant by the splendour of her
miracles.

" Most dear daughter in Jesus Christ, we have wished to
place before thee the example of St. Elizabeth, as a most
precious pearl, for two reasons : first, that thou mayest often
look into it as into a spotless mirror, in order to discover
whether anything is hidden in thy conscience that could offend
the eyes of the divine Majesty; again, that nothing should be
wanted to thee that is necessary for the beautifying of a bride
of Heaven ; and finally, that when thou shalt be invited to
appear before Assuerus, that is the eternal King, He may find
thee adorned with all virtues and clothed with good works.

" Given at Perugia, the 1th of the Ides of June, in the
Ninth year of our Pontificate."

The bull of canonization soon arrived in Germany and was
received with enthusiasm. It appears that it was first pub-
lished at Erfurth, where on the occasion a festival of ten days
was observed, and numerous distributions of alms were made
to the poor. The Archbishop Sigefrid of Mayence fixed a day
for the exaltation and translation of the body of the Saint,
which did not take place until the following spring, in order
, to give the Bishops and the faithful of Germany time to come

^^^^"^^

? ''i-r'- ;;,-' ./;::-; c -.r.:.v';>-^;':-'' ---^ ?:.'" : ^ ; .IV/:.'"' ''' " '-'"-"" ' ' ?N' : "'. ' '". '.:. '

OF HUNGARY. 874

to Marburg to assist at the ceremony. The first day of
May was that appointed for its celebration. On its approach
the little city of Marburg and its environs were thronged by
an immense concourse of people of all ranks ; if we are to be-
lieve contemporary historians, twelve hundred thousand Chris-
tians, united by faith and fervour, assembled before the tomb
of the humble Elizabeth.

All nations and tongues were there represented. Several
pilgrims of both sexes came from France, from Bohemia and.
from her native land, the distant Hungary. All united in
Baying that for centuries no such crowd had been sen as that
which came to honour the dear St. Elizabeth.

All the royal family of Thuringia were present, the Duchess
Sophia, her mother-in-law, with the Dukes Henery and Con-
rad, all anxious to expiate by this solemn homage the injuries
which she had so nobly forgiven them. Her four little children
were also there, with an immense number of princes, nobles,
priests, religious and prelates. Amongst these were, besides
Sigefrid of Mayence, who presided at the ceremony, the Arch-
bishops of Cologne, Treves and Bremen ; the Bishops of Hjim-
burg, Halberstadt, Merseburg, Bamberg, Worms, Spires
Paderborn and Hildesheim. The Emperor Frederic II., then
at the height of his glory, reconciled with the Pope, lately
married to the young Isabella of England so celebrated for hei
beauty, had suspended all his occupations and military expe-
ditions, to yield to the attraction which led to Marburg so
many of his subjects, and he came there to do homage to her
whc had rejected his hand to give herself to God.
. The Teutonic knights having heard of the arrival cf the
Emperor, thought it would be impossible to disinter the body
of the Saint in his presence, so they resolved to anticipate the
appointed time. Three days before that fixed, the Prior.
Ulric, accompanied by seven of the brethren, entered the
Church where she reposed, and after having carefully closed

374 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

all the doors, they proceeded to open the vault therein wai
her tomb. .

Scarcely had the covering-stone been removed when a de-
lightful perfume was exhaled from her blessed remains ; the
monks were penetrated with admiration at this sign of the
divine mercy, for they knew that she had been buried with-
out being embalmed,. or having aromatics or perfumes of any
kind (aid in her tomb. They found the lioly body entire,
without any appearance of corruption, though it had been
nearly five years in the ground. The hands were still piously
joined in the form of a cross on her breast.

They said to each other that doubtless this delicate and
precious body suffered not the corruption of death, because
during life she had never shrunk from any infection or stain,
when there was question of relieving the poor. They took it
then from its coffin, enveloped it in a rich drapery of purple,
ancl laid it in a leaden case which they placed in the vault
without, shutting it down, so that no difficulty should be en-
countered in removing it on the day of the ceremony.

Qn the first of May, before daybreak, the multitude
assembled* around the Church, and it was .with difficulty that
the Emperor could make his way through them, so as to reach
the interior of the building.

He seemed quite penetrated with devotion and humility ;
he was barefooted and clad in an old grey tunic, such as that
the Saint he came to honour used to wear, but he had on the
imperial crown ; around him were the princes and electors also
crowned, and the Bishops and abbots with their mitres. This
pompous procession advanced to the tomb of Elizabeth, and
it was then, says a narrator, that was paid in glory and ho
nour to the dear lady the price of the sufferings and self-denial
she had endured in this world. The Emperor wished to be the
first who should descend to the vault and lift the stone. The
same pure and exquisite perfume by which the religious had

rgR^Xg^PPt'V^iS?^^

OF HUNGARY. 375

been charmed and surprised, again exhaled itself, and
served to increase the piety of all who were present. The
Bishops wished to raise the body from its tomb, the Emperoi
assisted them, and fervently kissed the coffin when they did
BO. The Bishops' seals were immediately affixed to it, and it
was then solemnly carried by them and the Emperor with
the Bound of musical instruments and hymns of triumph to the
place prepared for its reception. The hearts of the thousands
who surrounded the Sanctuary burned with a fervent impa-
tience while expecting the coming of the holy relics, which
they were anxious to look upou, to touch, and to kiss reve-
rently. " happy land," cried they, " sanctified by such a
trust ! G-uardian of such a treasure ! O blessed time in which
this treasure is revealed to us !" When the procession en-
tered through the ranks of the people, when they saw the
coffin borne on the shoulders of the Emperor, of the princes
and prelates, when they breathed the sweet odour that ex-
haled from it, their enthusiasm became boundless. " O light,
but most sacred body," cried they, " what weight have you
with the Lord, what power to succour men .! Who would
not be drawn to you by this fragrant perfume, who would
not run after the brilliant sanctity and marvellous beauty of
thee, holy woman ? Let the heretics tremble, and the
perfidious Jews be afraid. The faith of Elizabeth has con-
founded them. Behold her who was called a fool, and whose
folly has triumphed over this world's wisdom ! Even the
angels have honoured the tomb ; and now, behold all the
people gathering around it, the nobles and the Roman Empe-
ror come to visit it. the wonderful mercy of the divine
majesty! Behold her who during her life despised the glory
of -the world, and shunned the society of the great, now ho-
noured magnificently by the Pope and the Emjferor I She
who always took the lowest place, who sat upon the ground^
tfho slept in the dust, is now exalted, lifted up by right

876 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

royal hands ! And justly so, for she became \?&m and sold
all she possessed to purchase the priceless per.rl of eternal
bliss."

The sacred body having been exposed to the vaneration of
the faithful, the Office was solemnly celebrated in her honour,
the proper Mass of the Saint was chauntedby the Ai eh bishop
of Mayence. At the Offertory the Emperor approached the
shrine, and placed on the head of the dear L'lizabeth a
golden crown, saying : " Since in thy lifetime thou wouldst
not be crowned as my empress, I wish at leist to crown
thee to-day as an immortal Queen in the Kingdom of God."

He also gave a magnificent gold cup in which he used to
be served at banquets, and then led to the offering the young
Hermann, son of the Saint ; the Empress conducting thither
the little princesses, the two Sophias and Gertrude.

The Old Duchess Sophia, with her twj sons Henry and
Conrad, also approached the glorified rei tains of her whom
they had so long slighted, they remained a considerable time
in prayer, and made rich presents in her honour.

. The nobility and the people thronged around the shrine to
say prayers and to make their offerings.

The inhabitants of each country insisted upon singing the
canticles of the Office in their own languages, which protracted
the ceremonies for an immense time.

Nothing could exceed the richness and abundance of the
gifts which these pious souls brought to the miracle-famed
shrine where reposed the dear Elizabeth ; the women left their
rings, brooches and other jewels ; some persons already pre-
sented chalices, missals, and sacerdotal requisites for the
stately and beautiful Church, which they insisted should be
immediately erected in her honour, " that she might rest there
in a manner befitting her great sanctity, and that her soul
might be more disposed to invoke God's mercies for hei
brethren."

OP HUNGARY, 377

But soon a new wonder was perceived which still more in
creased the veneration of the faithful, and demonstrated the
solicitude of the Lord for the glory of His Holy One. The
next morning, when the coffin containing the sacred body,
and to which had been affixed the seals of the Bishops, waa
opened, they found it full of a pure and delicate oil which
gave forth a perfume like to that of the most precious spike-
nard. This oil flowed drop by drop from the relics of the
Saint, like the bounteous dew of Heaven ; and when they
collected or wiped these drops away, there came others,,
almost imperceptibly, and forming a kind of vapoury exha
lation. At this sight the clergy and the people experienced
an increase of gratitude towards the Omnipotent Worker of so
many wonders, and of enthusiasm towards her who was their
object.

They umderstood at once, with the penetration conferred by
Faith, the symbolic and mystic meaning of this phenomenon.
"0 wonderful miracle," said they, "worthy of her and re-
sponsive to our prayers ! These limbs, which were worn by
so many saintly mortifications, exhale a perfume like to that
which would have been shed from Saint Magdalene's precious
vase, had it been broken. Her body distils a holy and heal-
ing oil, because her life was passed in works of mercy ; and
as oil floats over every liquid whereon it is shed, so is
mercy above all the judgments of God. This oil flows
principally from her feet, because they so frequently bore her
to the cabins of the poor, and to every spot where misery
required consolation. This dear Elizabeth, like a fair" and
fruitful olive-tree, covered with bloom and perfumed with
virtue, has been endowed with the gifts of oil, to illumine,
to nourish and to cure. How many suffering bodies, how
many languishing souls has she not healed by her charity and
the example of her sanctity ! How many thousand poor onei
has she not supported with her own bread ! By how many

378 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

prodigies has she not illumined the Church ! It is then with
reason that this sweet liquid, this odoriferous oil appears to
proclain. the sanctity of her who shone with so pure a splen-
dour, wto healed with so much sweetness, who fed the poor
with so much generosity, and who through her whole life
exhaled the rich and fragrant perfume of all virtues !"

This precious oil was gathered with great care and zeal by
the people, and many cures were effected by its use in serious
maladies and dangerous wounds. So many celestial favours,
confirmed by the supreme suffrage of the Church, and the
honours which it had so solemnly decreed to the new Saim\
could not but increase the number and fervour of the faithful
who visited her tomb, either to augment their piety, or to
&eek relief in their sufferings : her glory was soon extended
throughout the Christian world ; it attracted to Marburg a
crowd of pilgrims as great as that which all Europe contri-
buted to send annually to the tomb of St. James of Compos-
tella.

Numerous miracles were worked in favour of the h-umble
and faithful pilgrims who made so long and so weary a jour-
ney. Amongst the many related we shall transcribe but two,
which seem to us impressed with a character peculiarly inter-
esting; and also because they tend to .demonstrate how rapidly
love for, and confidence in our dear Saint were propagated and
coi Srmed even in the most distant countries.

It was but natural that veneration for Elizabeth should be
speedily established in Hungary,, the land of her birth, and
that the history of her holy life and the news of her canoni-
zation should have excited the most extraordinary feelings of
joy and admiration in that country to which she specially be-
longed. Now there was at Strigonia, in Hungary, an honest
and pious couple, whose only child had just died. The father
and mother were grievously afflicted by this loss. After
ha\ ing groaned and wept for a long time they retired to rest,

IPPPiSPfPSlp^

OF HUNGARY. 371

but still could not cease speaking of their little one. The mb'
th'er slumbered for a while, and had a dream which inspired
her to take at once the body of her deceased child to the tomb
of St. Elizabeth, in Germany. Having awoke, she placed
her trust in the Lord and said to her husband : " Let us not
bury our little girl, but let us take her with faith to Saint
Elizabeth, whom the Lord has glorified by many miracles, in
order* that by her prayers our child's life may be restored."
The husband yielded to the wishes of his wife. _

At an early hour next morning, when the friends were
waiting to accompany the body to the church, in order to
have it interred, they were amazed to see the father and
mother laying it in a basket and setting out for the sanctuary
of Elizabeth, heedless of the murmurs and derision by which
they were assailed. They travelled for thirty day&, weeping,
and enduring great privation ; but, at the end of that time,
God had pity on their faith and grief, and regarding the
merits of His dear Elizabeth, He sent back the innocent soul
of the child to the inanimate body which was offered to Hini
with such simple confidence, and restored the little one to life.
Notwithstanding their excessive joy, the pious parents resolved
upon completing their pilgrimage to the tomb of Elizabeth ;
they brought their resuscitated child to Marburg, and after
making their thanksgiving there, they returned to Hungary
to enjoy their miraculous happiness. This same young girl,
in after years, accompanied into Germany a daughter of the
king of Hungary who was given in marriage to the Duke of
Bavaria ; when she came to Ratisbon with her royal mistress,
she there entered a Convent of Dominicans, over whom she
became Prioress, and was still living in great sanctity when
Theodoric wrote his history.

At the other extremity of Europe, in England, there was
at this time a noble lady who had no children, and. who, after
living with her husband for twenty years, saw him die, to hei

880 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

great grief. In her widowhood and loneliness she cut off hef
hair, assumed a plain, gray dress, and sought SOPIC solace by
adopting twelve poor creatures as her children. These she
lodged in her own house ; she nourished and clothed, and
with her own hands washed and served them. Wherever she-
found poor or sick people, she gave them alms for the love of
God and of St. Elizabeth ; for she had heard of Elizabeth,
and had learned to love her better than anything in this
world, and more than all the other saints of God. The
thought of this beloved one never quitted her, and by day
and by night she meditated on her blessed life. At the mo-
ment willed by God this noble and pious lady died. Whilst
all were regretting her, her confessor said to those who wept,
that her body should be brought to the tomb of St. Elizabeth,
for that during her life she had made a vow to go there. Her
friends agreed to this, and they crossed the sea and travelled
through an immense tract of country.

After seven weeks' journey, they arrived with her body at
Marburg ; when they had invoked the Saint with great fer-
vour, the body of the good lady became re-animated, and she
was restored to life, saying : " Oh how happy am I ! I have
reposed on the bosom of St. Elizabeth !" Her friends wished
her to return to England, but she refused to leave the place
sanctified by her celestial protectress ; she led there for fifteen
years a most holy life, in almost entire silence speaking, in
fact, but to her confessor. He asked her one day why she
had imposed on herself this perpetual silence. She replied,
" Whilst I reposed on the bosom of Elizabeth, I experienced
too much happiness and joy ever to occupy myself with any
thing else but to think how I could regain su<h bliss for
eternity."

For three centuries, surrounded by a halo of glory, and
receiving daily homage and thanksgiving for so many bless-
ings, ttie body of Elizabeth remained in her magnificent

pgg|fp:l;gw^^

OF HUNG ART. 381

ehureh in the custody of the Teutonic knights, who always
wore the badge of the cross for the defence of the Faith.
But her heart that most noble relic was asked for and ob-
tained by Godfrey, Bishop of Cambray ; was transported to
bis Episcopal city, and laid on an altar in his cathedral.
Neither history nor tradition informs us of the motives that
influenced the faithful of Germany to deprive themselves of
this precious treasure in favour of a distant diocese. But can
we 'not discover in it a mysterious dispensation of Providence,
which permitted that this pure and tender heart should await
at Cambray another worthy of her, by its humility, charity,
and ardent love of God the heart of Fenelon ?

The veneration of the dear -St. Elizabeth was soon propa-
gated throughout Christendom. Whilst millions came to
pray at her tomb, a vast number of churches were erected
under her invocation, particularly at Treves, Strasbourg,
Cassel, Prague, and Winchester ; convents, hospitals, asylums '
for all kinds of moral and physical suffering, took her for their
special patroness and protectress under God.

Her festival day was, according to the directions of the Sov-
ereign Pontiff, observed throughout all the Church, and in some
localities with surpassing pomp and splendour. The diocese o{
Hildesheim was distinguished for the solemnity with which this
holy feast was celebrated, and for the harmonv <rf the chaunt
which resounded in the noble cathedral built there in honoui
of Mary, around the gigantic rose-tree of Louis the Good.

No sooner was Innocent IV. seated on the Pontifical throne,
than he granted an indulgence of one year and forty days to
all who should visit the tomb and church of our dear Saint
during the last three days of Holy Week.

Sextus IV. granted an indulgence of fifty years and fifty
quarantines to all the faithful, who, penitent and confessed,
should visit the churches of the order of St. Frarcis, in Saint
Elizabeth's honour an her festival-day.

382 LIFE <?F ST. ELIZABETH,

On the same day may be gained indulgences of one hundred
days in two of the seven Basilicas of the Eternal City, Rome,
viz. at " Santa Croce di Grerusalemme," and at " Santa Maria
degli Aiigeli."

The rich inspirations of the Liturgy, the true Christian
poetry, were also devoted to our dear Saint.

Proses, hymns, and numerous anthems, were composed and
generally used in her honour.

The religious Orders, particularly the Franciscan, Domini-
can, Cistercian, and Premonstratensian, each consecrated to
her a special Office.

These" effusions of the faith and gratitude of generations,
contemporaries of her glory, possessed all the charms of
simplicity, grace, and tender piety, which 'listinguished the
ancient liturgies, many of which are now unhappily forgotten;
and thus were concentrated on this Elizabeth, whom we have
* seen so full of humility and contempt for self, all the brilliant
honours, the ineffable rewards, the unrivalled glories, which
Holy Church has created and reserved for her Saints.

Yes, we may say it without fear Saints of God, what glory
is like unto yours? what human memory is cherished, pre-
served, consecrated as yours? what popularity can be com-
pared to that which you enjoy in the hearts of all Christian
people ?

Had you sought after human glory, the contempt for which
is one of the noblest features HI your lives, your greatest
efforts could never attain to that which you have acquired by
trampling it under foot 1 Conquerors, legislators, geniuses,
are forgotten, or are but honoured at occasional moments by
the vacillating feelings of men ; most of them are disregarded
or unknown. On the contrary, you, blessed children of the
earth you have sanctified, of the Heaven you enjoy, are.
known and loved by all Christians ; for every Christian has
chosen at least one from amongst you, to be his friend, bur

OF HUNGARY. 385

patron, the confidant of his heart-thoughts, the depository of
his timid hopes, the protector of his happiness, the consoler
of his sadness !

Associated with the eternal duration of the Church, you
are, like her, impassable and unchangeable in your glory.
At least once, every year, the sun rises under your invocation,
and thousands of Christians are congratulated, because they
have the happiness to bear your name, and this blessed: name
is commemorated, chaunted, proclaimed aloud in every sanc-
tuary of Faith by thousands of innocent and pure souls ; .by
the voices of spotless virgins, by -those of the heroines of
divine charity, by those of Levites and priests, by the whole
sacerdotal hierarchy, from the Sovereign Pontiff to the lowest
recluse in his cell, who together thus reply to and re-echo the
concerts of the angels in Heaven.

Once again, Saints of God 1 what gl->ry is comparable
to your glory durjjug time and eternity I

384 LIFE OF ST. ELIZAbETH.

CHAPTER XXXIII

WHAT BECAME OP THE CHILDREN AND RELATIVES OF THE DEAR
ST. ELIZABETH AFTER HER DEATH, AKD OF THE GBEAT SAINTS
BPRUNG FKOM HER RACE.

"Oquam pulchra est casta generatio cum claritate: immortalis est enim me>
moria illius; quoniam et apud Deum nota est et apud homines. ... in perpetuum
eoronata triumpbat incoinquiuatoruin certaminum premium vincens." Sapriv. 1, 2.

WE will doubtless be forgiven for inserting here an
abridged account of the destinies of the children of the dear
St. Elizabeth, as well as those of the principal personages
who figured in the history of her blessed life.

Following then the order in which they departed out of
this world, we must first notice her father, king Andrew.
From the time he heard of his daughter's death, he fell into
a deep melancholy, principally produced by the ideas that he
had not sufficiently known or appreciated her virtues, and
that he had too soon become resigned to leave her in misery
and abjection ; but he had the consolation of seeing her sanc-
tity recognised by the Church, and proclaimed throughout
the Christian world, and he died in a short time after her
canonization. The Duchess Sophia, her mother-in-law, died
in 1238, two years after having assisted at the solemn trans-
lation of the remains of her whose high destiny she had so
long misunderstood : she was, by her own desire, interred at
the convent of St. Catherine, at Eisenach, which her husband,
Duke Hermann, had founded.

The most fervent of the admirers and champions of the
Saint, her brother-in-law, Conrad, did not long survive the
ample reparation he made for the wrongs he had done her.

OF HUNGARY. 885

His piety, courage, and groat humility, made him be chosen
as Grand Master of the Teutonic Order which he had em-
braced in the spirit of penance. He consecrated a great part
of his wealth to the erection of the church which bears the
name of Elizabeth at Marburg, of which he had the glory of
being the founder. It was doubtless to be enabled to watch'
over and expedite this great undertaking, or, perhaps, through
affection for the places sanctified by his blessed sister, that he
choso Marburg as the centre and residence of the Order of
which he was the head, and built there the palace called
the Commandery, the ruins of which are still to be seen.
His prolonged visits to Hesse did not hinder him from presid-
ing over the new development which the Teutonic knights
exhibited in Prussia, when the Duke of Masovia called upon
them to succour the Christians against the Pagans. Conrad
fought with bravery and- skill ; he extended the possessions
of his Order he obtained from the Pope the investiture of
the province that was to be the theatre of its greatest glory.
But before the close of his life, he was anxious to re-visit
Rome. After arriving there he fell seriously ill. During his
malady, he attained to such a degree of interior purity, that
he could not, without great pain even of body,"endure the
presence of any one who was in the. state of mortal sin, so
that those who were in his service were obliged to abstain
from all evil. He had for confessor, the venerable abbot of
Hagen, of the Order of Citeaux.

One day when this holy Religious came to the Landgrave's
bedside, he perceived him absorbed in a state of ecstasy.
When he was restored, the abbot asked him what he had seen
in the vision. Conrad replied : " I was before the throne of
the eternal Judge, and my destiny was severely examined.
Justice ordained that I should be condemned to the pains
of purgatory for five years ; but my good sister Elizabeth
pproached the tribunal, and obtained the remission of thii
17

886 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

suffering. Know then that I shall die of this illness, and thai
I shall enjoy eternal glory."

He died soon after, having previously given directions that
ais body should be brought to Marburg to repose near that
of the Saint in the church he had commenced m her honour*
His tomb is still to be seen there, and on it he is represented
as piously sleeping in the Lord, holding in his hand the dis-
cpline, as he had presented it to the people to strike him on
the ruins of IVitzlar.

If Conrad so completely atoned for his sins against God
and St. Elizabeth, his brother, Henry Raspon, acted in a very
different manner, and his name is painfully intermingled with
the lives of the children of the Saint. These children seem
to us, from all the memorials which remain of them, to have
been penetrated with gratitude to God for having deigned to
will that they should receive being from a Saint, and also to
have been justly proud in the sight of men of so glorious an
origin ; in the Charters and other official documents, they
always inscribed themselves, Sou or Daughter of St. Eliza-
beth, before all their titles of sovereignty or nobility

Two of them, the younger children, Sophia and Gertrude,
accomplished their days in peace in the asylums she had
chosen for them amongst the virgins consecrated to the Lord
one at Kitzingen, the other at Aldenberg near Wetzlar.
Each became abbess of her community. Gertrude was elected
in 1249, and governed her monastery during forty-nine years.
She walked worthily in the footsteps of her holy mother by
her piety and generosity to the poor ; miracles have been
attributed to her, and she has always borne the title of the
" Blessed." On the petition of the Emperor Louis of Bavaria.,
Clement VI. granted indulgences to all who should celebrate
her feast. Her tomb is still to be seen at Aldenberg, as veil
gs several precious relics of her blessed mother which she h?d
collected there with pious care. Amongst these are a chasw

OF HUNGARY. 387

ble, made of red velvet from a robe of St. Elizabeth; a silver
gilt cup, in which she served the poor in her hospital with
drink ; her wedding ring ; and some other memorials, most
of which are now in the castle of Braunfels and in the posse*
sion of the prince of Solms.

The other two children of Elizabeth, her son Hermann, and
her daughter Sophia, experienced a very different fate, and
were, like their mother, sufferers from the injustice of men.

Hermann, when arrived at the age of 16 years, in 1239,
took possession of his father's dominions, which his uncle
had governed during his minority. He soon after travelled
to France to visit the holy King Louis IX. and was present,
as we have already seen, at the great court held at Saumur,
where his quality as son of St. Elizabeth attracted to him
universal attention, and where Queen Blanche, of Castile,
bestowed on him marks of the most tender affection. He
espoused Helen, daughter of Duke Otho of Brunswick ; all
seemed to promise him a brilliant and happy future, when he
died at the age of eighteen years in 1241, at Creutzbourg,
where he was born ; his early death is usually attributed to
poison, administered to him by a woman named Bertha de
Seebach, at the instigation of his unworthy uncle, Henry.
Before breathing his last sigh, the unfortunate young man
expressed his desire of being interred near his blessed mother;
but Henry, who immediately resumed the reins of government,
would not allow him even this consolation, fearing the Saint
would restore him to life, as she had resuscitated so many
dead persons. So he had his body conveyed to Reynharts-
brunn, where his sepulchral monument is still to be seen near
that of, his father.

Henry Raspon, now sole master of and lawful heir to the
vast possessions of the house of Thuringia, soon became the
chief of the opposition party, which increased every day in
Germany, and which was excited by the attacks made by th

888 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

Emperor Frederic II. against the independence of the lesser
princes and the rights of the Church. Pope Innocent IV.
having fulminated the sentence of deposition against Frederic
at the Council of Lyons, the Duke of Thuringia was naturally
put forward in the ranks to supply his place. Though it was
thought that the imperial crown was the object of his ambi-
tion, yet he always alleged unfitness for that great dignity
The Pope exhorted him to devote himself to the welfare of
Christianity and sent him considerable subsidies. He allowed
himself to be elected King of the Romans in 1246, and was
anointed in the following year. He made war with tolerar
ble success against Frederic and his son Conrad, but he did
not long enjoy his new dignity. In 1248 death carried him
off, and though he had been married three times, he left no
children. The Christian people saw in the extinction of hia
race the just chastisement of his perfidy to Elizabeth, and of
the crime imputed to him in regard to his nephew. He re-
quested that his heart should be carried to the convent of
Dominicans which he had founded at Eisenach, in expiation of
his misdeeds towards his sister-in-law.

After his death Thuringia was exposed to all the horrors of
a war of succession. The male heirs of the ancient Dukes of
Thuringia were extinct in the person of Henry; so the posses-
sions descended to the female line. Sophia, eldest daughter
of St. Elizabeth and Duke Louis, married, as we have seen,
to the Duke of Brabant, presented herself to take possession
of the inheritance of her father, in her own name and in that
of her son Henry, surnamed the Infant from being then but
three years old.

She was immediately acknowledged in Hesse, which pro-
vince she governed with great wisdom and courage during
the long minority of her son.

But in Thuringia she found a formidable rival in the person
of her cousin-german, Henry the Illustrious, Margrave of

. OF HUNG ART. 389

Misnia, son of Guta, sister of Duke Louis and King Henry.
This prince, profiting of the dissensions which, had arisen in
Thimngia after the death of Henry, as well as of those by
which the whole empire was convulsed, succeeded in obtaining
possession of a great part of Thuringia, and above all, of the
castle of Wartburg. There was no longer an emperor re-
cognised to do justice in the holy Roman empire since the de-
cline of the House of Swabia. Sophia obtained the assistance
of a valiant and devoted prince, Albert Duke of Brunswick,
whose daughter was affianced to the young Henry of Brabant.
But in despite of the efforts of this ally, and of the courage
with which Sophia always took part in his warlike expedi-
tions, the Margrave Henry retained possession of his usurped -
power. We shall not enter into the details of this fearful
struggle, but shall confine ourselves to the narration of a few
particulars which serve to depict Sophia's character, and to
show how the faithful people surrounded the remembrance
of the dear Saint's descendants with the halo of poesy in their
traditions. Thus, it is said, that in the first conference which
took place between Sophia and the Margrave, the latter was
disposed to listen to his cousin ; whilst he spoke to her, his
marshal, the Lord de Schlottheim, took him aside and said :
" My Lord, what are you .about to do ? If it were possible
that you could have one foot in Heaven and the other in Wart
burg, you should withdraw that which was in Heaven tha
better to retain Wartburg." Henry allowed himself to be
influenced by this, and said to the Duchess, " Dear cousin, I
must reflect on these matters, and consult my peers." Then
Sophia burst into tears, and throwing her glove from off her
right hand, she said, " enemy of all justice, I say to th.ee,
Satan, that I throw thee my gauntlet, take it, and with it all
crafty and perfidious counsellors." The glove arose in the air
and disappeared, and very soon after the evil counsellor tell ill
and died.

390 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

Later still in 1254, in another conference, Sophia despair
ing of being able to convince her rival by reason, or of subdu
ing him by force, sought to appeal to his sense of religion ; she
brought with her a relic of her holy mother, and exacted that
he should swear on this sacred memorial of her who had so
much honoured Thuringia, that he thought her claims to the
. country just and well-founded.

The noble and touching faith of the daughter in the influ-
ence of her mother's remembrance over the conscience of her
.worldly adversary was deceived. Henry swore falsely, and
twenty of his knights supported his oath.

The inhabitants of Eisenach became energetic partisans of
Sophia, as if they wished to expiate their former ingratitude to
Elizabeth by devotion to her child. They even besieged Wart-
burg, where the Margrave's forces were garrisoned, and erected
two forts the better to attack the castle. But Henry surprised
the town by night and got possession of it by treachery. He
put to death the principal friends of the daughter and grandson
of Elizabeth. To terrify the inhabitants, he fastened Welspeche,
the most earnest supporter of "their cause, to a war-machine,
and had the barbarity to order that he should be thus flung
from the summit of Wartburg into the town of Eisenach ; but
the brave man while cleaving the air cried out, " Thuringia be-
longs by right to the Infant of Brabant." Tradition alleges
that he suffered this punishment three times, and that he again
and again repeated, " Thuringia belongs to the Infant of Bra-
bant," and that it was only after the third fall the patriot mar-
tyr expired. Sophia arrived soon after from Hesse and came
to Eisenach ; she presented herself at the gate of St. George,
which she found closed, and demanded admittance ; and as the
inhabitants did not reply, she seized a hatchet, and struck the
oaken gate with such violence that she left in it a cleft which
WHS visible for two centuries after.

p&fPlWS^

OF HUNGARY. 39|

In 1265, Duke Albert of Brunswick, having been com-
pletely defeated and taken prisoner by the son of the Margrave,
it became necessary to enter into a definite arrangement. So-
phia was obliged to renounce all her pretensions to Thuriugia,
which remained thenceforth in the possession of the House of
Minia ; in satisfaction, however, the sovereignty of Hesse
was guaranteed to her son, Henry the Infant, and his pos-
terity. This division of the provinces has continued to OUT
own time, and the existing families of Hesse and Saxony are
descended from the two princes whose rights were fixed in
this treaty.

Sophia died in 1284, at the age of sixty years, after having
during her life carefully maintained the prosperity of her
country and of her family.

She reposes at Marburg, in the same tomb with her son,
and in the church dedicated *to her holy mother. Her recum-
bent statue, wearing an expression as if engaged in prayer,
as was the custom of Catholic ages, is still to be seen there ;
and by her side, that son over whom she had watched with so
much courage and maternal solicitude. The face of the statue
is a good deal worn away by the kisses of the pilgrims, who
-transferred to her a portion of their love for her mother.

Henry I. surnamed the Infant, son of Sophia and gracd-
eon of St. Elizabeth, and first sovereign of Hesse as an iso-
lated and independant state, reigned until 1308, rich in glory
and the affection of his people, whom he preserved from all
rapine and invasion. He was sixty-five years old at the time
of his death, though he is represented but as a little child
upon the tomb shared by him and his mother. From him
sprung two different branches of the House of Hesse, with
whom most of the royal families of Europe are allied, and
share by this means in the glory of reckoning Saint Elizabeth
amongst their ancestors.

Having given these details concerning the descendants of

592 LIFE OS 1 ST. ELIZABETH,

St. Elizabeth, we may be permitted to speak of the family
from which she sprung, in which were numbered many holy
personages, upon whonfthe example of our dear Saint must
have had considerable influence. In the maternal line, her
aunt, St. Hedwige, Duchess of Poland and Silesia, survived
her ; we have already seen that the pious example of this re-
nowned princess had affected Elizabeth in her tender age, and
we may be permitted to think that the Duchess Hedwige waa
strengthened in her fervour and austerity, by what she was
enabled to learn of the life of her young niece, and by the
solemn proclamation of her blessed immortality in Heaven and
on earth. It appears as if Hedwige sought more rapidly to
follow the youthful pilot to the happy port where both were to
land so gloriously. At the death of Elizabeth she had been
sent a veil worn by our Saint ; Hedwige entertained for this
relic the greatest veneration, and would never leave it off
until she had breathed her last sigh, and certainly no one
merited better this symbolic gift.

Married at the age of twelve years to Duke Henry the
Bearded, after having borne him six children, when still very
young, she with her husband made a vow to live thenceforth
<&s brother and sister.. She resolted to found a great monas-
tery for Cistercian nuns near a place where her husband had
fallen into a marsh, whence he was delivered by an angel.
This monastery was called Trebnitz, because when the Duke
inquired of the new religious, whether they were well supplied,
they replied that they wanted not for anything in Polish,
Trzeba nic. Hedwige had her daughter Gertrude appointed
abbess of this house, whither she soon retired herself and with
her husband's permission took the religious habit, but neither
the vow of obedience, nor of poverty, that she might not be
restricted in alms-giving.

During her entire life she rivalled her holy niece by her
humility and extraordinary mortifications : in reading of tha

OF HUNGARY. 393

almost incredible austerities she inflicted on her frail body, we
know not which to admire most, the indomitable strength of
her will, or the succour granted by the Lord to nature when
it strives to rise above its own abasement to ascend to Him.
Everywhere she sought the lowest place, being penetrated
with the spirit that saved the Cananaan woman, when she
begged from Jesus the crumbs that fell from the tables of the
children of God ; thus Hedwige sought no other food than
that left at the tables of nuns and monks whom she delighted
to serve. But it was particularly by her charity and compas-
sion that she rivalled our dear Elizabeth.

" She had," says a pious writer, " so tender a heart that
she could not see any one weep without shedding tears
in abundance, nor take repose when she knew that others en-
dured anguish or weariness.

" She had always poor people at her table, whom she served
on her knees before she would sit-down ; and often when un-
observed she would kiss their foot-prints, honouring in them
Jesus Cnrist, who being the King of glory became poor for
our sakes. So tenderly did she love the poor that she often
bought from them pieces of bread which the religious gave
them as alms, and these she kissed and ate as if they were the
bread of angels, and a sacred food. Amongst the poor there
were thirteen of those who suffered most whom she selected to
remind her of Christ and His apostles ; these she brought
with her -wherever she went ; had them well lodged and
clothed, and always wished that they should dine before her,
that she might serve them herself. She always sent them
gome of the best food set befo^ her, for she was so charitable,
that she would not eat the least thing, even if it were but a
pear, with any satisfaction if the poor had not previously
tasted of it."

She would never permit her vassals and serfs to be treated
harshly when unable ta pay their farm-rents and dues ; she
17*

J94 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

ncessantly visited the tribunals where the law-suits of the pool
were decided, and when she found the judges inclined to treat
them with severity, she .would empower the chaplain, by whom
she was always accompanied in these visits, to reverse the sen-
'tence^. Her husband entertained for her the utmost love and
respect, and frequently gave proofs of how much he sympa-
thised in her compassion, for the poor ; for instance, through
affection for her. he ordered that whenever Hedwige passed the
public prisons, the gates should be thrown open, and all the
captives set at liberty.

All her exercises of piety were marked by extreme fervour ;
every day she heard as many masses as there were priests to.
offer them, and each time she shed an abundance of tears. She
was pre-eminently devoted to the holy Virgin, and always re-
tained a little picture of that benign mother, to which in her
simplicity she spoke, which she carried with her when visiting
the sick, who frequently recovered when she had, when using
it, given them her blessing. Her husband having been wound-
ed and taken prisoner by Duke Conrad, his rival, she went
alone and on foot to seek this prince, who was then glowing
and exulting in his victory : when he perceived her he thought
it was an angel, and without the least resistance, he agreed to
terms of peace, and gave her husband freedom.

In a short time she lost this beloved spouse, and soon after
her son Henry, on whom she had. lavished the most intense af-
fection, and who was killed when fighting for the defence' of
Faith and European independence, against the Tartar hordes.
She endured these afflictions with holy resignation to God's di-
vine will. But her own death speedily ensued. On the feast
of the nativity of the Blessed Virgin, in the year 1243, the nun
in attendance on her, saw a number of fair young maidens, sur-
rounded with supernatural light, approaching Hedwige, who
aid to them with ineffable joy : " Welcome, deal Saints, and

OF HUNGARY. 898

good friends, Magdalene, Catherine, Thecla, Ursula, and all you
who have come to me." Then they spoke in Latin, but the lay
sister did not understand what they said. On the 15th of Oc
tober following, she breathed her last sigh in blessing God.

Numerous miracles having attested her sanctity, she was
eaiionized by Pope Clement IV. in. 126*7. When the solemn
translation of her relics took place in the following year, the
Dfnciants found her hand clasped on the little image of tho
Blessed Virgin which she had so dearly loved.

Whilst St. Hedwige shed such brilliant lustre on the ma-
ternal line of Elizabeth, the example of our dear Saint produced
ctfects, if not more precious, at least more numerous, on the
members of her father's family, in the illustrious house of Hun-
gary, which alone, of all the royal races of Europe, reckoned
already three canonized Saints amongst its kings, St. Stephen,
St. Emeric, and St. Ladislaus.

Bela IV., brother of our dear Elizabeth, and successor to his
father, showed himself worthy of being the brother of such a
sister, and the father of two other saints, by the piety, courage,
and resignation he manifested during a reign of thirty-five years,
almost all of which was a struggle against the victorious Tartars.
Induced by the example of his sister he joined the Third Order of
St. BYancis, and ordered that he should be interred in the church,
which the Franciscans had erected at Strigonia, under the invoca-
tion of St. Elizabeth, notwithstanding the opposition of those who
entreated him not to abandon the ancient burial-place of the kings.

The second brother of our Saint, Coloman, seems to have
seen still more charmed by the odour of perfection, which,
uras, as it were, exhaled by the holy life of his sister. Having
espoused a Polish, princess of surpassing beauty, Salome,
daughter of the duke of Craeovia, who had been affianced
and brought up with him from the age of three years, he
made with her, on their marriage day a vow of perpetual

396 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

chastity, . which they preserved with the utmost fidelity
Elected king of Gallicia, he defended that part cf Poland
against the Tartars, and died gloriously combatting against
them, for his country and his God. His widow founded a
convent of Franciscan Friars, and another of Poor Clares, in
the latter of which she took the veil, where she exercised the
most heroic virtues, and was honoured by the most particular
favours of the divine mercy.

On the day of her death in 1268, the attendants heard in
the air a sweet chorus of harmonious voices chaunting these
words : Fronduii, floruit virgula Aaron, A nun remarking
that her countenance wore a most joyful expression, and that
she smiled frequently, said to her, " Madam, do you see
anything so pleasing as to make you smile in the midst of
suffering?" "Oh yes," replied the blessed one, " I see our
Lady, the Blessed Virgin, mother of our Lord, which affords
me the greatest happiness." At the moment that she breathed
her last sigh, the attendants saw, as it were, a little star
coming from her lips and ascending towards Heaven.

But the daughters of Bela IV. and consequently nieces of
Elizabeth, so closely related by their sex to her who was the
honour of their family, strove also to imitate her by the auster
ity and sanctity of their lives.

One of them, known to the Church under the name of the
Blessed Margaret of Hungary, was incessantly occupied in
considering the example left her by her glorious aunt, and her
whole life showed how much she profited by it. Devoted to
the Lord, even before her birth, by her mother Mary, daughter
of the emperor of Constantinople, as a propitiatory offering to
obtain from Heaven some alleviation of the miseries inflicted
by the Tartars on the Hungarians, her birth was signalized
by a brilliant victory over the infidels, as if God had thus
wished to testify His acceptance of the sacrifice. Her pious
parents, faithful to their promise, sent her at the age ol

OF HUNGARY. 397

three years and a half to a convent of Dominicans. Gifted
with a vast intelligence and a soul most ardent, she took the
veil at the age of twelve years, though her angelic beauty and
royal birth caused her to be sought after in marriage by se-
veral powerful princes ; she remained, however, in her convent
for the rest of her life, which was for about twenty-four years.
This time, apparently so short, was entirely employed by her
in works of charity, of fervent piety, of extreme austerity, in
a word/of all that could develop, in her heart, and even in
her exterior, the pure love of God. Mary and the cross were
the means by which she aspired to this love and towards Him
who was its object. She could never mention the name of
the holy Virgin without adding, Mother of God and my hope
At the age of four years she, for the first time, saw a cross,
whereupon she asked the nuns, " What is this tree ?" " -It
was upon such a one," they replied, " that the Son of God
shed His blood for our salvation and that of the world." At
these words the child ran towards the Crucifix and kissed it
with ardour. .From that time forward she never saw a cross
without kneeling to venerate it, and when lying down to sleep
she used to place a crucifix on her eyelids, that it might be
the first object on which her sight would rest when awaking.
God granted to her the gift of miracles and of prophecy,
and the grace to reign over the hearts of her people, without
ever leaving her convent; she attended to the sick and poor
who came to seek her, with so much grace, with a manner so
charmingly kind, that for a long time after her death, when
anything was awkwardly or disagreeably done, the Hungariaa
people used to say, as a kind of proverb, " It is easily seen that
this was not done after the manner of sister Margaret." She
was but twenty-eight years old when God called her from her
family, her country, and the Order which was so justly proud
of her, to take her place by the side of the glorious Elizabeth
in Heaven.

398 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

Her sister Cunegunda, or Kingea, married in 1239 to
Boleslaus the Bashful, Duke of Poland, engaged her husband
to make with her a solemn vow of chastity, which they ob-
served during forty years of married life. When she became a
widow in 1279, at the same time with her sister Yolande,
who was married also to a Boleslaus, Duke of Kalitz in Po-
land, both resolved to take the veil, and to that effect, entered
as did their aunt Salome, into the Order of Poor Clares, which
appears to have offered such irresistible attractions to 'the prin-
cesses of that age. Cunegunda died in 1292, after having
given an example of the greatest austerity, and having re-
ceived from Heaven the gift of miracles. She has always
been regarded in Poland as a Saint and the Patroness of the
country. Her tomb has been an object of the veneration of
all the Sclavonian races. Many pilgrimages were made to it,
and Monday in each week specially consecrated to her honour.
The prayer used by the pious pilgrims has been preserved.
They invoked the blessed Cunegunda . at the same time with
the glorious Virgin Mary and St. Clare. More than three
centuries after her death the devotion towards her was so far
from having declined or chilled, that Sigismund, king of Poland
in 1628, addressed a most urgent letter to Pope Urban VIII.
to obtain the official canonization of her whom the Poles had
for so long a time proclaimed as their tutelary Saint. In
1690, Alexander VIII. approved of the public veneration
paid to her, and later still, Clement IX. recognised her
solemnly as Patroness of Poland and Lithuania.

It seemed as if the House of Hungary had been in a man
ner destined to rear up for Heaven saintly princesses of this
blessed race, married, as was our Elizabeth, to the Sovereigns
of distant countries, and some of whom, if they themselves
did not shine with special glory, were at least worthy of being
the mothers of Saints.

Thus Yolande, sister of Elizabeth, was married to the king

OF HUNGARY. 399

.>f Arragon, James the Conqueror, and was grandmother to St.
Elizabeth of Portugal ; and Constance, sister of King Andrew
was mother of that Agnes of Bohemia, whose magnificent eu-
logiura by the Sovereign Pontiff we have already read. After
having refused the hand of the King of England, the King of
the Romans, and the Emperor Frederic II., even at the risk of
exposing her country to the scourge of war, after having
passed forty-six years in her monastery, cinctured with the
cord of St. Francis, -and after having walked barefooted in the
paths of St. Clare and St. Elizabeth, in the most exemplary
practice of humility, of poverty, and of charity, Agnes died in
1283, and has ever since been venerated in Bohemia and
Germany as a Saint, even though the Holy See did not
accede to the petition made for her canonization by tlie Em-
peror Charles IV., whose life was twice saved by her invoca-
tion.

As to St. Elizabeth of Portugal, it would take a volume to
relate the many most interesting and moving anecdotes of her
glorious life ; and we can dedicate to it but a few pages. Born
in 1271, of Peter king of Arragon and Constance of Sicily,
F,he seemed as if predestined for heavenly glory by* the name
which was given her, for contrary to the then existing custom
in Spain of calling princesses after their mothers or grand-
mothers, she was named Elizabeth after the dear Saint who was
her father's maternal aunt. She w^as married at the age of
fifteen years, to Denis, king of Portugal ; but far from finding
as did her holy patroness a spouse worthy of her, she was for
a long time afflicted by his bad treatment and grieved by his
infidelity.

Yet this made her but more earnest in fulfilling her duties
as a wife ; she sought to reform the king by increased affection
and unalterable patience.

When her ladies reproached her with treating his faults too
teniently, she would reply : "If the king sins, am I to lose

400 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

patience; and thus add my transgressions to his ? I love better
to confide my sorrows to God and His holy Saints, and to
strive to win back my husband by gentleness." She carried
indulgence and resignation to such a degree, as even to smile
upon the king's mistresses, and to bring up his natural chil-
dren with her own, with great solicitude for then* present and
future welfare.

The eldest of the king's legitimate children, indignant at
his father's conduct, revolted against him. Denis persisted
in accusing Elizabeth of being an accomplice in this proceed-
ing ; he deprived her of her dower and all her wealth, and
confined her in a fortress. No sooner was she delivered from
this unjust captivity, than she directed all her energies to effect
a reconciliation between her husband and her son ; finding
her efforts useless, she selected the moment when the army of
the king and that of the Infant were ranged in battle array,
and just about to engage in the strife, to mount her horse,
and to ride alone between the two lines, amid a shower of
arrows ; she entreated the combatants to suspend hostilities.
The soldiers, less inexorable than their masters, were affected
by so much devotion ; they laid down their arms, and thus
forced the father and son to make terms of peace. Some time
after she restored union between two of her sons who were
engaged in a sanguinary war ; then between her brother, the
king of Arragon, and her son-in-law, the king of Castile, for at
the solicitation of the Spanish people she became mediatrix
between their sovereigns. Thus she merited the noble title
decreed to her by the universal Church, " Mother of peace
and of the country. Elisabeth pads etpatrice mater"

Her husband having fallen dangerously ill, she tended him
with the most affectionate care and received his last sigh.
Immediately after she assumed the habit of the Third Order
of St. Francis, which for many years she had kept enclosed
in a casket, and which from the first day of her widowhood

OF HUNGARY. 401

l-eoame her onl} costume. She made a pilgrimage to Com-
postella for the eternal repose of the soul of her husband, and
offered for that intention the crown of precious stones which
she had worn on her wedding-day.

She passed the remainder of her life in the practice of all
Tirtues, rivalling her holy Patroness in charity, austerity, and
ia the faithful observance of alt the ceremonies of the Church,
She loved to listen to the solemn offices and the ecclesiastical
chaunt, and every day assisted at two Masses with music.
A year before her death she wished to revisit the shrine of
St. James of Compostella, but on foot, disguised as a peasant,
and begging her bread as she went along, that she might not
be recognised by the people, nor exposed to their veneration.
In 1336, her son, the king of Portugal, having declared wax.
against her son-in-law, the king of Castile, she resolved, des-
pite of her great age, to employ her remaining strength in
walking for seven days to effect a reconciliation between them.
She achieved this last victory, but the fatigue of the journey,
thus accomplished during the great heat of summer, brought
her to the verge of the tomb. ' " Behold," said she on the eva
of her death, " behold the blessed Virgin in her snow-white
robe, who comes to announce my happiness."

She died on the 8th of July. Three centuries after her
demise she was canonized by Pope Urban VIII. with great
solemnity, and that holy Pontiff composed in her honour one
of the most beautiful offices in the Roman liturgy. Thus was
twice blessed and consecrated in Heaven and on earth this
dear name of Elizabeth which we have so after, repeated,
but which we have written e*ch time Wrfi ift-*r <tn<i sweet
emotion.

TIFH OF ST. ELIZABETH,

CHAPTER XXXIY

Off 1KB HOBLE CHURCH THAT WAS ERECTED AT MARBTTEG IN HOKOTH
OF THE DE.AR ST. ELIZABETH ; AND HOW HER PRECIOUS RELICS WEBH
PROFANED ; AND ALSO THE CONCLUSION OP THIS HISTORY.

Ave gemma speciosa
Mulierum sidus, rosa,
Es regali stirpe nata
Nunc in cceiis coronata
Salve rosa pietatis,
Salve flos Hungarioe,
Salve fulgens margarita,
In ccelesti sede sita;
Koga regem Majestatis
Ut nos salvet hodie
Lumen mittens caritatis
Ac coeJostis gratiae.

Ancient Office of St. EHzdbefh.

Tx the bosom of a valley watered by the silvery Lahn, one
eminence stands detached from the surrounding heights. The
ancient Gothic castle of Marburg erected by the grandson of
Elizabeth crowns its summit ; the houses and gardens of the
ity*and the University are grouped, terrace-like, around ita
sides and at its foot ; the two tapering towers and the high
^oof of the church of St. Elisabeth arise between it and the-
aanks of the river, which here winds around as if to encircle
e city. Outside the gates green meadows, charming gar--
iens, long and beautiful avenues, attract the attention of the
traveller, and induce him to seek the shade of the venerable
trees that cover the surrounding hills, whence he may enjoy
at his leisure the rare beauty of the landscape.

We know not if it be our affection for all that was sancti-
fied by the memory of. Elizabeth that influences us. but it seenii

S^*S-&?-' :^?^t&?^^

OF HtNGARY. : 403

to VA that out of Italy we have never seen a site more pictu-
lesqne, more attractive, more in accordance with the traditions
attached to it.

Wheresoever we turn in the neighbourhood of Marburg wa
we find the same beauties undefr aspects Infinitely varied.

The Lahn flowing on, calm and pure, between its verdant
banks, the admirable proportions of the Cathedral, its majestic
elevation over all that surrounds it, the graceful aiid picture-like
arrangement of the old-fashioned houses, with the towers of the
ancient castle, all tend to fix the attention ; we imagine we see
realized some of the exquisite scenery which the illuminations
of old missals and the paintings of the ancient Catholic Schools
still depict to us in the background of the views which they
represent.

It seems to us, then, almost impossible not to love and ad-
mire the noble city of Marburg, even when visiting it without
any i lea of the treasures it contains, but how much more when
we seek there the traces of the dear St. Elizabeth ; when we find
memorials of her on every side ; when we learn that her name
is enshrined in every heart, on every lip, and connected with
every monument. There still remain some portions of the con-
vent and the hospital founded by her ; these buildings, now so
dilapidated, were for a long time the residence of the Commander
of the Teutonic Order in Hesse ; they are situated between the
church and the river, and present an antique, picturesque ap-
pearance. Amongst them, one is most remarkable from its point-
ed gables ; it is called the Firmaney (Infirmary), and tradition,
supported by the opinions of several historians, points this out as
the place where Elizabeth died. The city gate nearest the church
is called St. Elizabeth's gate ; at a little distance outside it, on
the road leading to "Wehrda, the passenger perceives a fountain
with a triple jet, which is named Elisabethsbrunr,. It was
there she was accustomed to wash the garments of the poor'

404 LIFE OF ST. EIIZABETH

a large blue stone on which she used to kneel when engaged
in this laborious occupation was removed to the Church, and
is still to be seen there. Further on he arrives at Elizabeth's
bridge, at a little distance from it he sees Elizabeth's mill,
buildings which were erected, most probably, during the life-
time of the Saint. At the other side of the city, the path-
way of the road from Cassel crosses a bridge, passes the hill
whereon the castle was built, and winding under the shady
groves of the botanic garden, leads to the front of the church ;
this path is still called the pilgrim's stone, (Pilgrimstein.) It
is a memorial of the long files of pilgrims who, during three
centuries used to come from all parts of Germany, and even
from the most distant lands of Christendom, to visit the holy
shrine ; and whose confluence there contributed so much to
the prosperity of Marburg, which was, before that time, but
an unwalled town.

Even the severe Conrad has here his place in the popular
memory ; a fountain called Mcenchsbrunn, is surmounted by
his statue draped in a monk's habit, with a large open book
resting on his heart ; the people say that each night at twelve
o'clock he turns a page of this volume.

But it is time to speak of the celebrated church which is "
here, the great monument of Elizabeth's glory. It is erected,
as we have already said, upon the banks of the Lahn, at the
foot of the mountain whereon stands the castle, and in front
of a rocky eminence which serves to connect this kind of prom-
ontory with the neighbouring hills. The ground about it is
marshy, and must have presented immense difficulties to the
architect ; but it would be impossible to point out a better
site, or one more calculated to display the beauties of the
edifice, or in which the building could tend more to embellish
the appearance of the city and surrounding scenery. The
traveller should walk in the neighbourhood, and successively
Btudy the different points of view, to appreciate how much the

OF HUNGARY 405

feituation contributes to the exquisite appearance of its no-
ble monument; and the result of his examination would
be the thought that it would be almost impossible to discover
a more appropriate site. This discrimination in choosing a
suitable foundation was a distinctive' feature in the erection
of all the gorgeous piles left us by our Catholic forefathers.
The beauty of the church and the extraordinary advantages
of its position have given rise to many popular traditions
respecting its origin; according to these it -was Elizabeth
who first entertained the idea of erecting a church ; she
wished that it should be built on the height of a rock, still
called Kirchspitze, which overtops the actual edifice; she
wished also to erect there a gigantic tower, with a bell that .
might be heard in Hungary. But all her efforts were vainr
the ground was examined in different directions, but it was
found impossible even to lay the foundations, aiid the old story
says, that the work performed during the day was destroyed
every night. At length, one day, she lifted a stone, almost
impatiently, and threw it from the rock, declaring at the same
time, that wherever that should fall she would erect the
church. The stone rested on the spot where the magnificent
building is to be seen at this day ; her labourers commenced
immediately and their work proceeded prosperously. This
tradition receives some confirmation from the marshy nature
of the soil in which the foundations were laid, which would
have been quite sufficient to deter any one from building
there without being actuated by some supernatural motive.

The people also relate that during the long period occupied
in erecting this vast edifice, the funds contributed to defray
ttl! the expenses for the building were kept in an unlocked
chest, from which every man could take what was justly due
to him ; and if cupidity induced any one to commit fraud by
taking more than his right, the money would vanish from him
and return to the -coffer. An expressive symbol of the feelings

406 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

of faith and disinterestedness, which, the modern generation*
seem to have lost, and with them the power of rivalling these
wonders of Christian architecture.

Let us now approach the church, through a garden of

roses flowers which here, as well as at Wartburg, seem

specially consecrated to Elizabeth. Let us first mention that

the foundation stone of the noble pile was laid by the good

Landgrave Conrad on the vigil of the Assumption, in the year

1235, some months after the canonization of the Saint, and

that this date makes the church of Saint Elizabeth the first

that was erected in Germany entirely in the purely point

ed style. It required twenty years to lay the foundations,

and twenty-eight more to build the essential parts, which

were not finished until 1283. The interior, the spires,

and the magnificent whole, which we admire at the present

day, were not completed until during the fourteenth century.

The church is 230 feet long, 83 wide ; the foundations are

40 feet in depth ; the height of the interior vaulted roof is

70 feet, and that of the two towers with their spires 303

feet.

What particularly strikes the eye on entering this build-
ing is the admirable harmony.of all its parts, as well interiorly
as exteriorly ; in this respect it is unrivalled. Though a cen-
tury and a half elapsed before it was completed, one might
imagine that it sprung in a. single day from the mould of the
holy and rigorous mind that conceived it. It is the monu-
ment, not alone the most ancient, but also the most pure and
perfect of pointed architecture in Germany, and we think that
throughout Europe there is not another edifice so utterly
free from the influence of new styles foreign to its spirit, aa
well as from all admixture of the forms that preceded or fol
lowed it.

We find here no trace of the arch called Roman or Byzan
tine, except in a little lateral door of the nave, and it is ther

OF HUNGARY. 407

but the effect of a superabundance of flower-shaped ornaments,
which have in a very slight degree altered the character of the
beautiful, simply-pointed arch.

From this rare and wonderful unity in the excellent pro-
portions of the edifice there results an admirable whole, which
tends to create emotions of piety and interior recollection,
from which even, the souls of men who are too frequently uttei
strangers to the religious inspirations of art, can with difficult}
escape.

When straying under these arches, at once so light and
simple, yet so solid, in the silence and desolation which per-
vades the vast enclosure, when tasting, .as it were, the calm
and freshness which reigns throughout it, we can almost im-
agine that we are breathing the same atmosphere with Eliza-
beth ; and we -can well recognise in this monument erected to
commemorate her glory, the most faithful representation of
her personal character. The incidents of her holy life seem
all reflected in it. We find there, as in herself, something
humble, yet at the same, time aspiring something at once
graceful and austere, which charms us, whilst it also excites
some feelings of awe. The stones, all consecrated and marked
with the pontifical cross, resemble so many acts of her life all
elevated to God in Heaven, whilst she strove to detach her
heart from everything that could enchain it to the earth. All
in this holy place tends to inspire fervour and a love of sini
plicity, the marked features of Elizabeth's character. Indeed
we feel almost tempted to believe with the people, despite of
the testimony of historic dates, that to her we may attribute
the idea, the plan, and even the erection of this glorious edi-
fice ; and more particularly, when there exists not the record
of the name of any architect, mason, or workman of any kind
whatsoever, who was engaged during a period of more than
fifty years, on this immense undertaking. They seem to have
iaken the same pains to hide themselves from t^e praise ol

408 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

posterity, that vain men do to render their insignificant works
eternal.

How sublimely nameless ! they sought but to merge their
glory in that of the dear Saint, the beloved of Christ and of the
poor; and when their laborious task was completed, they died
as they had lived, unknowing, unknown ; in the simplicity 01
their hearts forgetting all but God and Elizabeth, and unre
membered by all save Him and her.

Wnen seeking their names, and finding our researches
useless, we become aware that higher feelings than those de-
rivable from the success of material efforts, or from the genius
of cultivated minds governed by purely human motives, anima
ted the builders of these houses of God, (truly worthy of that
name,) which were erected before the miserable degradation
of ecclesiastical architecture, during and since the 16th cen-
tury. We discover the unspeakable effects of the mysterious
and superior life, produced in these fruits of the ancient power
of' our faith, and we find ourselves Repeating the words of
Saint Augustine : " No one could enter here if these beams
and these stones did not adhere to each other in a certain
order if they were not cemented by a pacific cohesion if,
so to speak, they did not love each other."

If we might define in a few words what appeal's to us to
be the distinctive character of this church of Saint Elizabeth,
we would say that it is a virginal simplicity and purity. The
true Christian architecture is to be seen there in all its primi-
tive beauty, in all its youthful grace, newly blooming in the
Bui/light of faith. In comparing it with the gorgeous and
aiore recently built Cathedrals of Strasbourg, Cologne, Amiens.
Salisbury, &c., with all these varied types of the immortai
spouse of Christ, we imagine a difference, such as that which
exists between the modest garments of a gentle maiden, who
for the first time approaches the holv table, and the brilliant
vesture of a beauteous bride.

OF HUNGARY. 409

We must be excused for inserting a few particulars respect-
ing this church. The exterior, which has the advantage of
being totally separated from all other buildings, offers to us .he
peculiarity of two ranges of windows, one above the other,
whilst the height of the lateral walls of the interior is not de-
tracted from by any gallery or division. These windows are
simply two points united, surmounted by a circle, and enclosed
in a greater ogive ; an arrangement which exactly reminds the
traveller of the semicircular arched windows of the Cathedrals
of Pisa and Sienna, of Or-San-Michele, and the Palazzo Strozzi,
and those of most of the edifices of the middle ages in Italy.
We find Lere neither pinnacles nor abutments, nor any of the
ornaments of the later Gothic styles. The principal or western
front is of the most exquisite simplicity; it is composed of a
spacious portal, surmounted by a large window and a triangu-
lar gable, flanked by two towers with their lofty spires of ad-
mirably pure style and symmetrical form.

The niche over the portal is occupied by a beautiful statue
of the Blessed Virgin, the special Protectress of the Teutonic
Order. She is represented as crushing under foot the vices
and sins under the forms of little monsters ; from her feet, at
the right side, proceeds a vine laden with an abundance of
grapes, and at the left, a rose-tree covered with blossoms,
wherein are little birds ; on either side a kneeling angel vener-
ates this Queen, victorious over sin, and the unfailing source of
the fruits of truth and the flowers of beauty. The execution
equals the touching grace and mystic meaning of this figure.
The foliage of the capitals, and the tracery wreathing the arch
of this portal, are exquisitely delicate. The two towers con*
tain seven bells, the smallest of which is silver, and these form
the most harmonious chimes.

On entering the church we are surprised to find it divided
into a nave and aisles of equal height. This peculiarity,
18

410 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

which is rarely discernible in the vast basilicas of the middle
ages, appears to have been a distinctive feature of the churchea
of the Teutonic Order, and to have been introduced into 3,11
their foundations in Prussia.

We are also pleased to find here the natural colour of the
etone, which no vile plaster has ever tarnished, either within
the building or on its exterior.

We everywhere perceive the joining of the cut stone ; we
admire the marvellous union of solidity and lightness which
permitted the architect to leave the lateral walls, in some
places of two feet, in others of eighteen inches only, in thick-
, ness. A double row of columns marks the division of the
three parts ; each is simply composed of four colonettes.
Their capitals are carved wreaths of vine, ivy, roses, and
trefoils, and these are the only ornaments the sculptor has
admitted. A little wooden statue, representing the dear Saint
holding the model of a church in her hands, rests against one
of the pillars in the nave.

The church is, as it ought to be, in the form of a cross ; the
choir and the transept, or the two arms of the cross, are termi-
nated by polygonal niches. The choir is closed by a tribune
in wood-work, with statuettes of great beauty. The principal
altar, consecrated on the 1st of May, 1290, is perfectly in keep-
ing with the rest of the building, and is surmounted by a Coro-
nation of the B\essed Virgin in relievo.

The windows of the choir are filled with superb stained
glass not representing, as would be the case in a church of
later construction, historic scenes, or holy personages but
simply flowers and foliage, which, in the judgment of some
persons, are the most suitable subjects for painted glass. The
remainder of the stained windows were destroyed by the army
of his most Christian majesty Louis XV., who, in the seven
years' war, converted this church into a store for forage.

On the four deserted altars in the transept, we remark

OF HUNGARY. 4H

subjects in painting and sculpture, representing the principal
events of the Saint's life, as well as the legends of St John
the Baptist, and St. George, parts of which are attributed to
Albert Durer, but which are, in our opinion, the work of some
artist previous to his time, and of a taste more purely religious
than his was. These are gilt in alto-relievo, and covered by
screens of wood painted on both sides with simple but most
impressive subjects, some of which, however, have been too fre-
quently retouched. We discover amongst them the miracle
of the mantle given by Elizabeth to the beggarman when she
was going to the banquet hall ; the miracle of the leper laid
on her husband's bed ; the last embrace of Elizabeth and
Louis when he -was departing for the Crusade ; her expulsion
from Wartburg ; her fall in the muddy stream at Eisenach ;
the visit of Count Banfi ; her taking of the religious habit ;
&c. The relievi represent her death, her obsequies, and the
translation of her relics in the presence of the Emperor.
These three are evidently the work of an artist worthy of
such subjects.

In the southern arm of the cross, we perceive the tombs
of the princes of the houses of Thuringia and Hesse, who had
sought the honour of being interred near their illustrious
ancestress. " In this palace of the Supreme King," says an
historian, " Elizabeth, His royal spouse, was the first buried ;
and afterwards there were admitted there several other fellow-
citizens of the Saints, and faithful servants of G-od, destined
to rise with her from their tombs at the last day, to rejoice
with her in eternal glory." Her director. Conrad of Mar-
burg ; Adelaide, daughter of Count Albert of Brunswick,
a very holy woman and renowned even for miracles ; Brother
Gerard, provincial of the Franciscans, who had led a remark-
ably austere life, here also reposed near Elizabeth. There
now remains no trace of their burial places, but we find in
great preservation the beautiful monuments of the good Land-

412 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

grave Conrad, brother-in-law of the Saint, with his discipline
in his hand ; that of the Duchess Sophia, daughter of Eliza-
beth, the face of which is almost worn away from the kisses
of the pilgrims ; and the tombs of fifteen other princes and
princesses of Hesse from the 13th to the 16th centuries and
amongst them we cannot but admire that of the Landgrave
Henry III., styled the Bully, who died in 1376, whose statue
is sculptured upon the same stone with the truly "beautiful one
of his wife Elizabeth ; three little angels sustain and smooth
the piJow on which their heads repose, while monks and nuns,
kneelii.g at their feet, read prayers for their souls' weal.

In one of the angles at the other extremity of the Cross
towards the north, is the Chapel where .the relics -of the
blessed Saint herself were deposited ; this chapel forms a kind
of long square portico with four arches, two of which rest
against the wall of the niche, and the other two are exposed.
The interior vaulting of the beautiful roof is pointed, but the
summit of the entire square is^flat and terminated by a high
balustrade, and from this, the relics were, doubtless, exposed
to the people, or else it served as a place for the musicians on
great festivals. Clustering foliage, sculptured and gilt on an
azure ground, wreathes around the rising of the arches, con-
ceals the sharpness of the angles, and thus contrasts with the
plainness of the other portions of the church! In a space be-
tween the arches and the square there may be seen a fresco
representing the coronation of Elizabeth in Heaven ; it is
partly effaced, and of the inscription it is now impossible to
decipher more than the words : GLOEIA THEUTONIB. On the
lateral base of the chapel is a bas-relief which merits particu-
lar attention, as well for its antiquity, for it is probably the
work of an artist coeval with our Saint, as for the char-
acter of exquisite simplicity by which it is distinguished.
Elizabeth is represented as dead, and laid in her coffin, with
her hands gently crossed apon her boscm. Our Lord, with

OF HUNGARY. 413

the holy Virgin by his side, is standing near the bier ; the
soul of Elizabeth under the form of a child, newly born, but
already crowned with glory, is presented by her guardian
angel to Christ, who lifts His hand to bless her^ another
angel scatters incense around ; our Lady looks lovingly on her
docile and humble pupil ; by her side is a bearded man, with
a lance in hand, and wearing the badge of a Crusader, repre-
senting either the good Duke Louis, or the penitent Conrad
At the right stands St. John the Evangelist, special Mend
and patron of the Saint ; St. Catherine, and St. Peter with
the keys of Paradise. On the left, St. John the Baptist, St
Mary Magdalene, and a Bishop, supposed to be Sigefrid of
Mayeuce. It was before -this bas-relief that the Pilgrims used
to kneel, and the stone is still to be seen, hollowed and worn
from their knees.

The shrine in which the relics of the Saint were preserved
was placed above this bas-relief, and protected by a grating,
which still exists. It is now removed to the sacristy, which is
between the choir and the northern transept. The shrine is
one of the most wonderful productions of the goldsmith's skill
hi the middle ages. We know not the name of its maker, any
more than that of the architect of the church. It is in the
form of a Gothic house, with a double-gabled roof, a parallel-
ogram, six feet long, two feet wide, and three feet and a half
high. It is of oak wood, covered with silver gilt ; the two
narrow sides form portals, under one of which is a statue of
the Blessed Virgin, crowned with a diadem of precious stones,
and holding the infant Jesus ; under the other is the figure
of St. Elizabeth, wearing the religious habit. On one of the
long sides, Jesus Christ is represented, seated and teaching,
with three of his apostles at his right hand and three at hia
left. On the other, Our Lord is seen upon the cross, which
is in the form of a tree, with its branches. St. John and St.
Magdalene are at His feet, and two angels crown His bend

414 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

ing head. On the right and left are the other six apostles.
Afl these figures are surmounted by richly-carved canopies.,
On the inclined planes of the roof are eight bassi-relievi, rep-
resenting as many scenes hi the life of the Saint : the fare-
well between her and her husband, when he set out for .the
Crusade the unexpected discovery of the cross in his alms-
purse the gift of the ring their last kiss. These sculptures
and bassi-relievi are of excellent workmanship, and are wrought
in massive silver gilt. An immense quantity of onyxes, sap-
phires, emeralds, engraved stones, pearls, and other precious
ornaments of great value, were incrusted in the shrine and
in the drapery of the statues. The greater number were
antiques, and added considerably to the almost inestimable
value of a monument, to which the piety and affection of the
people for Elizabeth had contributed so many treasures. A
great many engraved gems were brought from the East by
pilgrims and crusaders ; some of these were regarded as spon-
taneous productions of nature. In the middle ages, innumer-
able supernatural qualities were attributed to precious stones ;
they were at once the ornaments most significative and suita-
ble for the tomb of a saint. There was there an onyx so
beautiful, that, according to a very popular tradition, an
Elector of Mayence had offered as its price the whole town-
ship of Amoeneburg. Notwithstanding the wars and changes
of religion, there remained eight hundred and twenty-four
gems, without including pearls, when in 1810 they were
counted before the removal ordered by the Eranco-Westpha-
liar, government, under which the shrine was brought to Cas-
eel, where the most valuable were removed, to the number of
jme hundred and seventeen. This shrine, in its form and
beauty, resembles that famous one of 'St. Sebald at Nurnberg,
ornamented with the figures of the twelve Apostles, by Peter
Fischer j but it has 'the advantage of being two centuries

3;SF?>?^-:^ : ^i^V J -3^ ;-::--i: : - >!",:"-S i %:

OF HUNGARY. 415

older, and we know not if there be elsewhere so wonderful a
work of Christian art of so remote a period.

The relics of the Saint reposed in the shrine which the faith
and love of the Christian people had endeavoured to render
worthy of her, until the miscalled Reformation. We take the
account of what then occurred from two Lutheran historians,
deeming them unprejudiced witnesses of the victories gained
by what has since been styled the cause of progress and of light

On Exaudi Sunday, in the year 1539, the Landgrave,
Philip of Hesse, a descendant in a direct line from St. Eliza-
beth, came to the church dedicated to his ancestress, and had
the new form of worship performed there for the first time.
He was accompanied by Duke Albert of Brunswick; Count
Isenburg; a famous poet, imitator of Ovid, named Eobanus
Hessus; Professor Crato, and a great number ,of Teachers
and learned men, amongst whom the Reformation fo'ind many
partizans. The service having been concluded, he sent for
the Commander of the Teutonic Order, who resided at Mar-
burg; this was the Sire de Milchling, who was afterwards
elected Grand Master; he went with him to the sacristy,
where the shrine had been deposited. An immense multitude
of people followed them. The Prince and his friends having
entered the sacristy, the Commander closed the door, to keep
out the crowd. The. iron grating, inside which the shrine was
kept, was shut ; the Commander refused to open it, and flung
away the key ; the sacristan likewise would not dare -to touch
it. The Landgrave sent for blacksmiths to bring their tools,
that they might destroy the grating ; it was then discovered
that the door which the Commander had shut could be opened
only from the outside. It became necessary to throw out the key,
that some one in the crowd might apply it to the lock. While
waiting, his highness was good enough to say, " If we are des-
tined to die in this sacristy, we will first appease our hunger

HQ LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

bj eating the Commander." " That is to say," replied the
latter, "if I am in a humour to allow myself to be eaten."
The necessary tools were soon brought, and when the work-
men had made a breach, the Prince cried out, " On, on ;
thank God 1 Here, then, are the relics of St. Elizabeth !
Behold my bones and her bones 1 Come hither, old Mother
Lisette ! Behold my grandame 1" Then this worthy descend-
ant of a Saint, turning to the Commander, said, " It is very
heavy, my Lord Commander; I would be glad if it were
full of crown-pieces; but there will be, T hope, some good
old Hungarian florins." "I know not what is in it," said
the Commander ; " in my life I was never so near it, and
would to Heaven that I were not here to witness this scene
to-day I" The shrine was opened ; the Landgrave put in his
hand, and drew forth a casket lined with red satin, which con-
tained the relics of the Saint :, these he handed to an officer
of his household, who threw them into a forage-bag carried
by a servanj;, who brought them to the castle. The Land-
grave himself cut away a piece off the shrine, which he thought
was of massive gold ; he had it tried by a goldsmith; find-
ing that it was of copper gilt, he cried out, " How these
priests deceive people ! They have made this shrine of cop-
per, and kept all the gold for themselves." Then he perceived
that he wanted the head of the saint ; and, after long insist-
ing, he forced the Commander to show him a secret press in
the sacristy, where the head was kept, together with the crown
and golden chalice that the Emperor Frederic had offered, on
the day of the solemn translation, three hundred and three
years before. Philip carried these treasures to the Castle, and
never since have they been seen. And this was the man whom
the Protestants named Philip the Generous.

In the same year, 1539, he obtained a dispensation, signed
by Dr. Martin Luther, and seven other evangelic theologians
assembled at Wittemberg, to marry two wives at the same

OF HUffGART. 417,

time. Worthy was he to be the father of that race of princes,
who during a century lived upon the price obtained from Eng-
land for their subjects, whom they sold to be employed by her
in the American and other "wars.

The remains of the Saint were interred soon after, under
a plain stone in the church, in a place unknown to all but
the Landgrave and two of his confidants. In 1546, under
the pretext of saving it from the dangers of war, he had the
precious shrine carried to the Castle of Ziegenhayn. But in
two years after, yielding to the pressing demands of the Com'
mander, John de Rehen, Philip returned this sacred property
to Marburg ; at the same time, he thought fit to obey an order
sent to him, in the very year of the sacrilege, by the Emperor
Charles V., to restore to the church the relics of Saint Eliza-
beth.

They were disinterred and given to the Commander, biit
were never more replaced in the shrine. On the receipt of
them by John de Rehen, on the 12th of July, 1548, there
were a great many parts wanting ; and, dating from that
tune, they were soon completely dispersed.

Towards the close of the sixteenth century, Spain made
great exertions and incurred vast expense, to collect and
preserve the relics of saints which remained in the countries
.invaded by heresy ; the pious Infanta Isabella Clara Eugenia.,
then governing the Low Countries, whose memory is still so
popular in Belgium, obtained the scull and a considerable
portion of the bones of her holy patroness, and had them
conveyed to Brussels, where she entrusted them to the care
of the Carmelites. The scull was afterwards sent to the
Castle de la Roche Gruyon, in Erance, whence it has been
recently transferred to Berancon, by the Cardinal Duke de
Rohan, and where it is now venerated in the Hospital of St.
James, in that city.

One of the arms was sent to Hungary ; other portions of
18*

418 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

the relics are preserved at Hanover, Vienna, Cologne, and at
BrHati, in the rich chapel dedicated to her in 1680, by the
Cardinal Frederic of Hesse, one of her descendants. In this
chapel is also the staff which she used to assist her trembling
limbs, when driven from Wartburg.

We have already mentioned her glass cup, which is at Er-
furth; her wedding-robe at Andechs; her wedding-ring at
Braunfels, where are also her Book of Hours, her table, and
her straw chair ; her veil is shown at Tongres.

In 1833, the Count de Boos-Waldeck possessed one of hex
arms, which he offered for sale to several sovereigns, who reck-
oned her amongst their ancestors, but without being able to
find a purchaser !

At Marburg there are none of her relics ; but a tradition. as-
serts that her bones were interred under the grand altar, whence
they were stolen in 1634. At the present time, only a piece of
tapestry, which it is said that she worked, is shown ; it represents
the parable of the prodigal child, and is used at the Communion
Table, according to the Lutheran rite. Her shrine was conveyed
to Cassel in the reign of King Jerome ; it was brought back to
Marburg in 1814, and replaced in the sacristy. The magnifi-
cent church consecrated to God's honour under her invocation,
has been used since 1539 by the professors of a belief which re-
gards the veneration of the saints as an idolatry, and never since
has her sweet name been re-echoed by the voice of public praise.

The body of this saint, so dear to heaven and earth, has
not had the same fate which the remains of other -holy ones
have experienced. In many instances they have reposed,
guarded by the love and veneration of successive generations,
near the altars where the daily oblation of the Spotless Sacri-
fice is made. On the contrary, all the countries in which this
sister of the Angels sojourned, have lost the Faith ; the chil-
dren of the people whom she so tenderly loved and so fie-

OF HUNGARY. 419

quently succoured, have denied and renounced her powerful
protection. Thuringia, where she lived a maiden and a wii'e ;
Hesse, where rolled on the years of her widowhood ; each has
abandoned Catholicity.

The traces of the proud Luther at Wart burg, have succeed
cd to the remembrance of her pious and humble childhood,
of the trials of her youth, of her conjugal life, unrivalled in
its tenderness and sanctity. From the height of the old
towers of the Castle, the eye of the Cathojic traveller wan-
ders over the wide-spreading country, on whose people she
lavished untiring love, and seeks in vain a cottage or a
church belonging to his co-religionists. At Eisenach, where
she truly followed Christ by her charity and her sufferings,
there is not a Catholic to invoke her not an altar to honour
her sweet name not a consecrated stone whereon to kneel
and demand her blessing. Even in the city where she died,
where so many thousand pilgrims came to venerate her
relics where even the marble is worn away from the multi-
tudes of the Faithful who knelt before her shrine her life is
now but an historic fact, and the few Catholics who are tol-
erated there have not even a special Mass on her festival day !
Her tomb was not respected, and the person who violated the
sanctity of her grave was one of her own descendants. Is it
not, then,.a duty for Catholics to repair these insults, to restore
her glory, and by every means to offer to her the tribute of
their praise and love ?

These were the feelings of the poor Capuchin, whom we
quote for the last time with regret, when be said in the Itth
century " When I visited the noble church and rich tomb
of the saint, my heart was pierced with grief on finding them
in possession of the Lutherans, and now so shamefully de-
spoiled of their former splendour. Oh ! how I lamented
before God and entreated the dear Saint Elizabeth, with all
my might, to restore order there. But, inasmuch as tha

420 LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH,

heretics neglect to revere thee, so should we render to thea
all honour so should we invoke thee with redoubled fervour,
O glorious servant of God! and so should we rejoice for ever
that God called thee in thine infancy from far-off Hungary,
to give thee to our Germany as a most rare and precioua
jewel."

But yet, even in the countries which have forgotten her
glory and renounced her faith, there is devoted to the Saint
a mark of homage perhaps the sweetest and most suitable
ever decreed. The people have given to a little flower, as
humble and modest as herself, the name of the dear Saint
Elizabeth's Floweret; this is the Cystus Heliantheum. It
closes its corolla at sunset, as Elizabeth used to banish from
her soul all that was not a ray of light and of grace from On
High. How happy should we be, if this small tribute which
we wish to render to her glorious memory was as acceptable
to her, as must have been the feeling of pious and confiding
affection which formerly induced some Catholic peasants tc
confer on -the flower they admired, her beloved name.

And it will be permitted to us, before concluding these
pages, to lift up our heart and voice to you, glorious
Saint to you whom we have, in humble imitation of so
many fervent souls, dared to name also our dear Elizabeth !
Oh, beloved of Christ 1 deign to become the celestial protect-
ress of our soul, and aid us to become the friend of your
Friend. Turn towards us from your place in heavenly bliss,
one of those gentle looks which on earth were sufficient to
heal the worst infirmities of mankind. We have come, in a
dark and faithless age, to be enlightened by the holy ra-
diance of your virtues to seek fervour at the furnace of
your love ; and you have welcomed us, and your sweet me-
mory has often given us peace. Be you blessed for ever, foi
the many precious tears we have shed over the history of
your sorrows and your patience, your charity and your an

OF HUNGARY. 421

gelic simplicity ; for the labours and wanderings you have
watched over ; for the many solitary days when yon alone
were present to our minds ; for the many sad hours that your
dear image alone could solace ! Blessed be you for ever for
all these favours, and do you deign to bless the last and most
unworthy of your historians I

Respondens Jesus dixit : Confiteor tibi, Pater Domine,
coeli et terrse, qnia abscondisti hsec a sapientibus et prudent
ibus et revelasti ea parvulis.

FEAST OF SAINT ELIZABETH,
NOVEMBER 19, 1841

422 LIFE OF 8T. ELIZABETH,

A TABLE SHOWING THE NAMES OF THE AUTHORS WHOSE WORKS, ETTHEB
IN MSS. OK IN A PRINTED FORM, WERE CONSULTED BY THE CODHT
MONTALEMBERT PREVIOUS TO WRITING THIS HISTORY.

IN offering this humble work of ours, with the hope of ex
tending the glory of the Dear Saint Elizabeth, we renounce
all the merit of invention or originality. The only honour
we have sought is that of being regarded S,s a faithful com-
piler and a correct translator of the works left us by our
forefathers in the Faith. A pious exactness is the only qual-
ity to which we lay claim ; and, to confirm this, we insert
a list of all the historic sources from which, during researches
and travels for the space of three years, undertaken solely
for this purpose, we derived the materials for the history
which we now offer to our readers. To those who imagine
they will find in our pages the marks of exaggerated erudi-
tion, we feel happy in being able to give some faint idea of
the zeal, patience, and scrupulous care, with which the Ger-
man historians of the present day. without distinction of
religious belief, labour in the fruitful but yet unexplored field
of the history of the middle ages. Other readers, from the-
romantic and poetic character of some passages, may be dis-
posed to question our veracity ; we can but refer them to the
authors whose names follow, and to all the authentic records
of the Saints' lives, before the epoch of mutilation and altera-
tion. We imposed on ourselves as a rule, when transcribing
the annals of the life of Elizabeth, to add nothing, but also
not to suppress the most minute particular. This we have
observed with the utmost fidelity, and we can affirm that
there is not a single detail related, nor a word attributed to
ny personage in this history, that has not been copied ex-

OF HUNGARY. 423

actly from works either printed or in manuscript, which were
invested with all due authority in our eyes. On this subject
we may apply to ourselves the expressions of the first biog-
rapher of the Saint ; and happy are we, after the lapse of five
centuries, to speak with the same firm and simple faith " I
take God and his holy angels to witness, that in this little
book I have not inserted anything but what I gathered from
correct manuscripts, or heard from religious persons of un-
questionable veracity. I confess, also, that I am unworthy to
write of these sublime and wonderful operations of Divine
grace ; I hope and pray, that some one, after reading this
history, will have pity on it, and consecrate to the Saint
whose life it relates an erudition and an eloquence more
worthy of her than are mine."

PRINTED.

AUTHORS CONTEMPORARIES OF THE SAINT OR LIVING PREVIOUS TO

THE REFORMATION.

1. Epistola magistri Conradi de Marburg ad Papam, de
rita B. Elisabeth.

2. Libellus de dictis qnatuor Ancillarum S. Elisabethae sive
examen miraculorum et vitae ejus.

3. Hsec est forma de statu mortis Lantgraviae de Thuringia,
ex MS. Liesbornensi, apud Martene et Durand, Colloctio
amplifcsima &c. Pars 1.

4. S. Bonaventurse sermo de sancta Elisabeth.

5. Theodorici Turingi, ordinis praedicatorum, libri octo de
S. Elisabeth, Andreae regis Hungarorum filia.

6. De sancta Helisabeth a legend from the famous col-
lection entitled : Aurea legenda sanctorum quae lombardica
hystoria nominator, compilata per fratrum Jacobum de

434 LIFB OF ST. ELIZABETH,

T. Auctor Rhytmicus de vita S. Elisabethae Landgravia
Thuringise e codice bibl. Ducalis Saxo Gothan.

8. Monachi Isenacensis vulgb Johannis Rothe, Chronicon
Thuringise vernaculum.

9. Legende von Sant Blsebeten in the great legend called
Passional.

10. Sermo de S. Elisabeth, in the Thesaurus novus de
Sanctis.

11. Yita illustris ac divae Elisabeth, regis Hnngarorum
filise conscripta stilo elegantissimo opera Christi Sacerdotia
Jacobi Montani Spirensis inserted in the large edition of
Surius, entitled, De Probatis Sanctorum historiis

12. Annales de Hainaut, par Jean Lefevre published also
after the Histoire de Hainaut, par Jacques de Guyse.

We omit the names of several authors, such as Tincent de
Beauvais &c., who have only spoken in a cursory manner of
St. Elizabeth in their works.

CATHOLIC WRITERS AFTER THE REFORMATION.

13. Aiitonii Bonfinii Rerum TJngaricum decade quatuor
cum dimidio 1581.

14. Annales minorurn seu trium ordinem a S. Francisco
institutorum a R. P. Luca Wadding hiberno. Rome, 1732.

15 Justus Lipsius, Diva Virgo Hallensis opera, Tome
II. page 808.

16. Bavaria sancta, descripta a Matthseo Radero, de Soc.
Jesns Monaci, 1615.

17. La vie de S. Elisabeth, fille du Roi de Hongrie,
Duchesse de Thuringe, premiere religieuse du tiers ordre de
St. Fra^ois, recueillie par le R. P. Apollinaire, revue, cor-
rigee, et augmentee, par le R. P. Jean Marie, du meme ordre.
Paris, 1660.

18. La Tie de S. Elizabeth, &c., par le P Archange,

OF HUNGARY. 425

yeligieux penitent du troisieme ordre de St. Franpois Paris,
1692.

19. Aaserlesenes history Buch. von den lieben Gottes
heiligen, &c., by P. Martin de Kochem, Capuchin. Augs-
Dourg, It 32.

20. Histoire des Ordres Monastiques, le P Helyot. Paris,
1118.

21. Die Legende der H. Elisabeth, von Johann. Graf
ttailath. 1822.

PROTESTANT AUTHORS.

22. Adami TJrsini, Molybergensis Chronicon Thuringise
rernaculum, apud Menckenii Script. Her. Sax. 1547

23. Diva Elisabetha magnifice coronata ; Ghristiliche
Ehrengedcechtniss der H. Elisabeth, in zwei Pred%ten, von
J. B. Happel, Lutheran Minister of the Teutonic Order.
1645.

24. Georg. Michel Pfefferkorn, Auserlesene GescMchte
von der beriimhten Landgrafschaft Thiiringen, 1684.

25. J. J. Winkeknan, Beschreibung der Furstenthiimer,
Hessen, &c. Bremen, 1698.

26. Chr. Fron. Paullini historia Eisenacensis, &c. Frank-
fort, 1698.

21. Andreas Toppius Historia der Stadt Eisenach, ver-
fasset, 1660.

28. Job. Mich. Koch. Historiche Erzoelung von dem Schlosa
Wartburgob Eisenach, 1710.

29. Das im Jahr, 1708, lebende und schwebende Eisenach,
von Johann Limperg, 1709.

30. Bina Sanctarum, Elisabetharum (her of Schsengen,
who died in 1056, and ours) veluti illustrissimarum Soec. xi.
nd xiii., testium veritatis evangelicae in Hassia, memoria
mouumentis et nummis declarata, a J. A. Liebknecht, 1729,

426 LlfV OF ST. ELIZABETH,

bl. J R. Votr Falekenstein, Thuringische Chrouik 2. T
Erfurt, 11 3b.

32. J. Gr. A. Galletti, Gesehichte Thuringens, Gotha
1783. *

33. Tkiirmgische geschkhte &us SAGITTARIUS hinterlassen
en Papieren, &c. 1787.

34. Elisabeth die heilige, Landgroefin von Thiiringen and
Hessen, &c., von Dr. Karl Wilhelm Justi, 1797. 1835.

35. J. C. S. Thon, Schloss Wartburg, Eisenach, 1826.

36. Histoire Grenealogique de la Maison de Hesse. By
Baron Turkheim. Strasbourg, 1819.

37. Geschichte von Hessen, von Christophe Rommel, 1820.
88. Greschichte der Hohenstaufen, und ihrer Zeit. by Fred-
eric de Raumer.

* MANUSCRIPTS.

1 Das Leben des edeln tuginthaftin lantgraven Ludewigii
vf de was elich gemahel unde wert der heiligen hochgebor-
uen Frouwin Elysabeth, Life of the noble and virtuous Land*
grave Louis, husband and liege lord of the holy and most
noble lady Elizabeth, written by the Sire Berthold, his chap-
lain. Library at Gotha, another at Cassel.

2. Vita S. Elisabethse Landgravise a fratre Csesario, sacer
doti in monasterio vallis S. Petri, better known as Caesar of
Heisterbach, 1237.

3. Der lieben frowen sant Elysabeten de landgrefin leben

4. Cy en commence la vie de Ste. Elysabel fille au roy de
Eongrle. Rutebeuf MS. 7633. Bibli. Roy. Paris.

5. Chi conimeuche de Ste. Yzabiel. JLe moine Robert
MS. 13th century. Bib. du roy. Paris, Ko. 1862.

6. Sente Elsebet Leben. Darmstadt.

7. Von Sente Elysabethen. Strasbourg.

8. Von Sente Elsebethen. Heidelberg, 1345,

OF HUNGARY. 427

. Vita S. Elysbethse- Hungarise Reginse. Florence.

10. Legende der H. Elisabet und S. Gertraud ir mutter.

1 1. Historia ecclesiastica Isenacensis per Munich. M. Nich*
alaum Rebhahn, 1621. Eisenach.

12. Joh. Whil. Waldschmidt. Commentatio succincta de
vita et fatis M. Conradi de Marburg, Confessoris divae Elisa-
bethse. Cassel Library.

13. Leben Mag. Conradi Yon Marburg. J.N" Schminkius.
Bibli. de Cassel.

And thirteen other documents in Manuscript collected by
the Bollandists, and now in the Burgtmdian Library,

UN VERS TY OF CHICAGO

3 1986

211995

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UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO