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□

32X

SAI

rva /'

**Ab aatfqoe
■■■■ qaa [MM

D. & J. £

^^f,

THE LIFE

SAINT ELIZABETH,

or HUNOART,

ST TBS

COUNT DB MONTALEMBERT,

TBANSLATID BT MABT BAOIflT.

rwa tlTTBODUCTtON TMdNBLATMB BT MM9, J, BABltM^,

* Ab BBtiqao Kriptte MB eoBlMtw, ipM qao^im teriiitc^rtre tneepi, noa at Miwllui
■Mun qua p«iie nulla Mt, propoiierMn; cM at raa abwonditM, qua in stra* varitaUt
iM^Mt, eonT«ll«rMi ia laona."— OMBtiM Iblmuk. i» Out. Meg., r«l. U., ifU

D. & J. SADLIER & CO]

wmali

EST

D. & J. SADLIER & CO..
1884

COUNT DE HONTALEMBERT,

rai ILLVITBIOUS CHAMPIOll OP RBLIOIOM AVD LIBIBfff

VHBOUOHOUT THB WOBLD,

CM> 8««iurtitfMi

OP UIB

•HISTOIBB DE SAINTE BLISABR^*

D nSCRIBBD,

Win SBMTDIBinB OP HBABTPB.T ADMIBAnOV AMO PBOPODBB

BBBPBOr POB mS HOBLB CHABACTIF,

iUD BTBB lABHSn STHPATIIT IH BBHAUT OV

OUSHPBOnA

FREFAOB

to THB SECOND AMBBICAW KDITIOH.

Count de Montalembebt^ lAfe of St, EHzabetk qf
^miga/iry has been now some years before the public,
%nd, itbongli more recently translarted into English, its
ineritB are not <iifiknown 'to the Oatholic world. It is
a woffk joi such jmre merit, in its kind, that wherever it
goes it will be sure to nkaftce friends and admirers for
itself, and requires not a word pf commendation.
There is a winning charm, a soft poetic halo around
the whole narrative, that is in admirable I^oging with
the life and character of the charming princess whoEe
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 bcth lan^ages, but also a certain

PRBFAOI.

portion of the creative genius which brought it forth
from notliiiig. When Miss Hackott translated the Lift
itself, she omitted the Introduction of the noble author,
which is certainly a valuable appendage to tlie work«
presenting, as it does, a beautiful and graphic picture
of the Christian world during the half century which
included the brief career of Elizabeth. Tliis omission
I endeavored to supply 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 ihd whole work vrith th^
original, and I trust it will be fomid comparatively
free from the typographical aud other erron which
disfigured the former edition.

MonuAK, ^tk. IMI.

CONTENTS.

i>,h

9&m

Ibtrodnollon f

L How Duke Hemuinn nlfnad to Tborlnnfas and King Andraw la IIiui>
garj, Mid bow the deer 8t BIlBobetb wm born et Priaboarf; end wm

brooglit to Elaeneeb 106

IL How Uie dew BU Elisabetb henourwl Ood In her Cbildhood lit

III. How the deer St Eliiabeth bad to suffer ft>r God 1ft

lY. How tiie young Louie wee reltbAil to tbe dear St Eliaabetb, and bow be

married ber IM

v. How Uie Duke Louli, bueband of tbe dear St Elliabatb, waa afreeable

to God and man Ut

TL How the Duke LouU and tbe dear Bt Biisabeth UTed togetber before

God in tbe holy state of marriage 140

VII. How tlie dear St EliiabeUi praetiaed the Tirtne of mortiflcation 144

▼III. or the great charity of the dear St Elisabetb, and of her love of povertj 151

IX. Of the great devotion and humility of the dear St Elisabetb Ill

Z. How the dear St Elisabeth was known and cherished by tbe glorions
St Franci^ and bow abe bad tor spiritaal dlreetur Maater Conrad of

Marbourg IM

ZI. How tbe Lord waa pleaaad to waalfeat bia graee in tbo person of tbe

dear St Elisabeth , 180

ZIL Hew tbe DukeLoui« yrsteeted bia poorpeopio 180

ZIII. How a great famine devaatated TburUigia, and tiow tbo Jear St Elisa-
betb practised all the worka of merey 104

ZIY. How Doke Louia returned to bia wife, and bow ho nandered tme jnatioe

, toliisdoar monks of Key nbaitibruna 901

ZY* How the good Duke Louis took up the Crooa, and of tbe great grief
wherewith he bade (krewell to bis IHenda, bis family, and the dear

St Elisabetb SOf

ZYL How Duke Louis died on bis way to the Holy Land 394

ZYII. How tbe dear St Elisabeth heard of tbo death of ber hosband, and of

her great agony and tribuUtion

SYIIL How the dear St Elisabetb was driven oat of her castle with ber Uttlo
ehildren, and reduced to extreme misery, and of the great ingratltodo
tf mon towardi

XIX
XX

XXI

XXII.
XXUl.

ZXIV.

xxy.

ZXYL

XXVII.

XXVIII.

XZIX.

XXX.

ZXXL

ZXXIL

CXXIIL
IZXIT.

OONTIVTt.

•

ffew tk» All-m<^lftil Jmo* oenMltd tb« tUar 8t Klis*b«th la hm loa^

Uneti Md niUi-ry, •ml bow th« awMt Mid moM ot«u«nt Vtrgio Mary

CMS* to Inntruct and fortiry li«r Mi

Uow tht dear 8t Klliabwth rvfuMd to tnarr/ a Moond tlUM, and b«w

•he oonaacratMl li«r w«ddliig gannanta to Jaaui^ tba apouio vi bar

•oul Ml

How the dear St. EJUabatl» raaclvad tba lanalM of bar buaband, k^A

bow Ui«jr wera InUrMd at Bajraliartabfttaa tM

How tha Tburinglan kulgliU mailit Duka Uanry repent ofhla wlcbed-

nci^ and ina«le lilm render ample Jiutlee to Uie dear St. Klliabetb . . ITf
Uow tlie dear 8U Ullaabutb renounced tbe worldly life, and, retiring

to Marbourg, aaaunad tbera tba liabit of tba Order of tba gturtoitf

8t FranoU %U

or tba great poverty In whlob tba dear St. Elizabeth lived, and k*ir

•be advanced in biunlllijt and loaroy towarda all cr e a> u ra»4 SSS

How tba dear St EUiabaUi reftwed to lotura ta bar lithar'a UnfdoU,

In order that abe might mora sorely enter tba kingdom of Heaven. Ml
Uow tbe deer St Klliabetb dUtrtbuted all bar property amoagat tba

poor 801

How tha doar St. Xliaabeth learned fVom Maatar Oonrad, bow In ill

thingi ta deaCroy ••l^wl^ 801

How tbe Lord exerclited bla power and mercy at tba iataroaaaiun of

tha dear Bt. Blbaibeth, and of the marvelloua aflcaay of bar prayer*. 811
Hnw the dear St Elisabeth, when aged twenty-lbnr yeara, waa aum*

moned to tbe eternal wttddlngfSiaat 881

How the doar St Elixabotb waa buried In tba eburob near bar Uoa-

pital, and bow avan tha Itttla Urda of baavan oelabratad bar oba^

quiea 841

Of tba wooderAU mlraeloa obtained flrom Ood by tbe tateroeaalon^

tba dear St^ Blliabetb, and how aazioualy bar brotber-ln<hiw, Dulta

Conrad, wiaked to have her caaonlaed 841

How tbe dear St Elizabeth wa^ oanunlzed by Pope Oregorjr, end of

the greet Joy and veneratkm of the MthAil in Germany, on tbo oeaa>

•Ion of (ha exaltation of her relies at Marbouiv 868

Of what baeama of tba ehlldiea aadrahittvaa of tba dear s^ BUaabatb

after ber deatK and of tba great aalnta that apmng fh>m ber raaa. . . 184
Of the noble Cbnrob that waa oreetad at Marbauif In braoor of tha

daar Bt. EUaabatb ; aad bow her prodooi talka vava ppafcoed;

•laaUiaaoaahMlasaf tktoblMMjr ....

INTRODUCTION.

On the 10th of November, 1883, a traveller arrived at
llarbourg, a city of Electoral Hesse, situated on the pleasant
banks of the Labn. He stopped there in order to stody the
Oothic Church which it contains, celebrated not only for itf
rare and perfect beauty, but also because it was the firnt iu
Oermaay wherein the ogee prevailed over the full arch, in
the great revival of art in the IStb century. This basilic
bears the name of St.' Elizabeth, and it happened that the
traveller in question arrived on the very day of her feast. In
the ohurch, — 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 ia their lightness and elegance.
He eaw 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 choroh, 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
aiaanned some ancient painting on wood, half effaced, and
■culptures in relievo^ sadly mutilated, yet all profoundly im*
pressed with the simple and tender charm of Christian art.
In these representations, he distinguished a yonng woman ia

INTRODUCTIOH.

great trepidation, showing to a crowned wnrrior the skirt of
her cloak filled with roses ; in another place, that same
knight angrily drew the covering from his bod, and beheld
Christ stretched on the cross ; a little farther, the knight aifd
the Itidy were reluctantly tearing tbemselTes asander after a
fond embrace ; then again was seeu the young woman, fairer
thnn 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, havinar
become a Protestant, tore them oat mnd flung them to the
winds. Under the stone canopy wBich formerly overhang
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 df
faithfnl generations, and resumed his solitary course ; but he
was ever after haunted by a sad yet sweet remembran<^ of
that forsaken Saint, whose forgotten festival he had unwit-
tingly come to celebrate. He set about studying her life;* h«
successively ransacked those rich depositories of ancient lito^

* TUm* resesrohM bare stnee been completed hj others In ▼srions llbcwto 4
tiaif Md FUaden, eepeebllj te the VetleiUB lad the LMueattak.

IMTRODDCTtOV.

ratore which aboond in Oermany. Charmed more and mort
every day by what be learned of her, that thought gpradoally
became the guiding star of his wanderings. After haTing
drawn all he could from books and chronicles, and consulted
manoscripts 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 vi^iit
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 days
were spent, and where she married a husband as pious and as
.oving as herself ; he could climb the rough paths by which
she went on her errands of charity to her beloved friends, the
,ppor ; 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
fam'ly, where she made an offering of her wedding-robe when
the cherished wife had become a homeless and exiled widow.
At Erfurth he touched with his lips the glass which she left
the humble nuns as a memento of her visit. Finally, ha
returned to Marbonrg, 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 traditi^^v^^Rpoogst a people
who, with the faith of their father^
to their sweet patroness.

The result of these protractc
pilgrimages, is contained b thii

jr 'devotion

loaf

INTROOUCTIOir.

Often, when wandering through our plMtercd-up c'tf«f, or
our rnral districts, despoiled uf 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 imagine
tion ; the mind is struck, as well as the eye ; our curiosity ii
evcited ; we ask ourselves what part did that ftugment play
hi the whole ; we unconsciously fall into contemplation : by
degrees, the entire fabric rises befor . our mental vision, and
when the work of interior reconstruction is completed, we
behold the Abbey, the Church, fhe 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 bimself, to
aid them in reconstructing in their mind the sublime edifice
of the Catholic ages.

Thanks to the many invaluable L^onnmenta 6f the Kfe of
St. Elizabeth, which are found in tbe great historical coHeo*
tions of Germany as well aa in the manuscripts of its librae
rtes ; thanks to the numerous and minute details transmitted
to us by biographers, some of them pontemporaries 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
tfuspicious circumstances, we are able to effect a double pui^
pose in writing this life While closely adbering to the (bib
taaental idea of juch a work, viz., to give the life of a Saint,
It legend of the ages of Faiih, we may also hope to furnish a
ftiithfiil picture of the manners and customs of society at a
pericd when the empire of t&e Church and of chivalry wae al

■X.

nrTRODvoTtor.

tin height. It has long been f^lt that eren the purely profan*
history of an ' *> so important for the destinies of mankind,
might gain n h in depth, and in accmracy, from particular
researches on the object of the most fervent faith and dearcsl
affectitcs of the men of those times. We may Tentaro to say
that, in the history of the middle ages, there afc fi^tr biogr*
phies 60 well adapted to carry out that Tiew, aj 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 is
it that her destiny, her family, and her name, are connected,
n\pre 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 1207, and died in 1231, so that
her bnef career occurs during that first half of the 18th
century, which is, perhaps, of all other periods, the most im-
portant, the most complete, and the most rcsplehdent, in the
history of Catholic society. It would be, it seems to us, diflS*
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 soch
absolate dominion over the mind and heart of nations ; she
saw aH the ancient elements, against which she had so long
struggled, at length subdued and prostrate at her feet ; tke

IVTRODUOTIOir.

I !

entire West Wowed with respectful lore onder her holy law
In the loan; rA*nggle which she had had to sustain, eren from
her divine crigin, against the passions and repngnanoes of
fallen hanianity, nerer had she more successfully fought, nor
more vigorously pinioned down her enemies. It is true, her
fictory was far from being, and could not be, complete, since
vhe is here below only to fight, and expects to triumph only
in heaven ; bnt certain it is that then, more than at any
other moment of that protracted warfare, the love of her
children, their boundless devotion, their numbers and their
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 thii
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
Gatholic thought. The disastrous battle of Tiberiad, the loss
of the true Cross, and the taking of Jerusalem by Saladin,
(1187,) had showq 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 CcRtir de Xton,
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,
l>ut 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 dangerouf
evil in the very bosom of the Church. But a glorious reaction
^WM soon to set iu. In the last years ;f that century (1198,)

IVTROOUOTIOir.

Ihc chair of St. Peter was ascended by a man in the prime
of life, who, under the name of Innocent III. was to struggle
with invincible courage against the enemies of justice and the
Church, and to give to the world perhaps the most accoai»
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 t,ge wbch 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. Vent, Sanete Spiritus, and the
Stabal 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 Ohristian literature — a stem 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 Cliristiau 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
find fortify him ; God heard that universal prayer, and gave

• Bm hit SlfTHMfM «id V* treatiiM Ita o#iil«mla MMmA; •■* tk* Am» flMif
t$HUalP*aimt, .

tVTBODUOTIOV.

hiu <ttrength to prosecute and to accomplirfi tlie great work
of St Gregory VII. In his yonth, whilst stodying in the
University of Paris, he had made a pilg^mage to Oanterbnry,
to the tomb of St. Thomas the Martyr, and it is easy to
imagine what inspiration there was for him in those sacred
^rjics, and what a ferrent zeal he conceited for the freedom
of the Chnrch, whose victorions champion he afterwards was.
Bnt 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
3f nations, the maintenance of their rights, and the'fulfilmeni:
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, tl»e
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
fiather and a judge. From Ireland to Sicily, from Portugai
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 aga* ^t its external enemies, be 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 YII. had first conceived, and which had animated
all the Roman Pontiffs till Pins II. died a Crusader. The
lieart of the Popes was then, as it were, the focus whence thai
holy zea]^adiated over all the Christian nations ; their eyei
mere ever open to the dangers by which Europe was cnr-
toanded, and whilst Innocent endeavoured, every year, to

IVTEODVCTIOS.

lend « CUrititian army agftinst the Tletorions Saraoens of Um
East, in the North he propagated the faith amongst tha
8<;lare8 and Sarm&tianR, and iu the West, urging npon tht
Spanish princes the necessity of concord amongst themselrea,
and a decisive effort against the Moors, he directed them os
Ao tlicir miracolons Tictories. He brought back to Catholie »
onity, by the mere force of persuasion, and the anthority of
liis great character, the most remote kingdoms, such as Ar*
menia and Bulgaria, which, though Tictorious over the Latin
amiiet, 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 ; be protected the
Jews against the exactions of their princes and the blind fury
of their fellow-citiTiens, regarding them as the living witnesses
of Christian truth, imitating in that respect all his predecessors^
without one exception. He even corresponded with Mah<h
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 l^e foundations (tf 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 tha
victors; he rejects all their excuses, all their pious pretences,
because, in their undertaking, they had violated the laws of
jistice, and forgotten the Sepulchre of Christ I It is thai

INTBODUCTIOH.

(br him religion and justice were all, and that with them hi
identified bis life. His soul was inflamed with a passionate
love of Justice which no exception of persons, no obstacle, no
check, could either diminish or restrain ; counting defeat or
■uccess us nothing, when right was at stake — mild and mep>
ciful towards the vanquished and the feeble — stern and
inflexible towards the proud and the mighty~-e very where
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, ill
defence of the rights of that hapless Ingerbnrge 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 niost remote. We
see that he knew how to maintain the rights and preserre
the patrimony of the princes of Norway, of llolland, and of
Armenia, (1199,) the Infantas of Portugal, the young king
Ladislaus of Hungary, and even to the sons of the enemiei
f»f 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
race of Qohenstaufen, the most formidable rival of the Holj

IHTKODUOTIOV.

Boe, .'at who, being left an orphan, to the care of Innocent^
if brought up, instructed, defended by him, and maintained
in his patrimony with the affectionate deyotion, not only of a
guardian, but of a father. But still more admirable does bo
appear to us, when offering an asylum, near his throne, to
the aged Bnymond de Toulouse, the old and infeterate >
enemy of Catholicity, with his young son ; when he himself
pleads their cause against the Prelates and the Tictorioos
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 ail thrones, and when justice, thus
personified, was seated on the chair of St. Peter, kings should
seek to unite tliemselves to it as closely bb 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, 'S>^ 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 hia illustrious predecessors, he united to his love of-
eqnity a lofty and sagacious policy. Like them, by opposing
the heirship of the empire in the house of Suabia, by main*
laining the (freedom of elections in Germany, he saved that

10 urmoouOTioii.

toble country from monarchical centraliiatUm, which wonM
have chADgcd its whole nature, and stifled the germs of that
prodigious intellectaal fecundity of which she is justly proud.
Like them, by re-establishing and steadfastly defending tha
temporal aiitlrarity of the Holy See, he preserved tbj
independence of Italy, as well as that of the Church. lb
formed, by his precepts and his example, a whole generation
of Pontifls, 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, Fonlquet of Toulonse, in the midst of here*
tics ; or worthy of dying for that holy canse^ like St. Peter
Parentice, and Peter de Castelneaa.* The glorious life oC
Innocent III. terminates with the famons Council of LateraOi
(1215,) which he conducted and presided over ; in which aH
the relations of the Church were made fast ; in which the
judgment of Qod^ 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 tribnnals ;
finally, wherein were introdnced, so to speak, to the Chrlstiatt
world, those two great orders of St. Dominick and St. Francis,
which were to infuse into it a new life. Innocent had tha
glory and the consolation of seeing both these illustrioiM
orders spring up under bis Pontificate. |

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,

I
I

* KWed bj the beretlos, tbe fonner at Orvtoto, In 119t ; the latter In T|«rt"t^i*H

. t Id the eighth canon of this eoaneil.

X It is well known that M. Hurter a Proteatant writer, has, by hts tAf« of Intuit
»*ni in. WAi hit ConimtporoHM, raised a monument to tbe glorj ot that
Vtetlff a«d tbe Cbarob, and merits tbe gratitnde of vfwj Mend oftntk

IKTRODUCTIOW.

3h wonU
8 of that

17 proud,
iding tbt
rved tbj
rch. lit
eneratioa
d worthy
mgton in
lerick of
b of here*
St. Peter

18 life of
Lateran,
wliioh aH
rhich th«
) of force,
)mmiiiiioii
ninal pro*
;ribaiial8 ;
Ghristiaa
>. Franela,
, had the
illustrioui

rorihy of
e sublime
;ice alone,

of that

iBtk

•gainst all the resourccM uf gcniiw and of human power, eon
ceiitratcd in the Euipcror Frederic II., and employed for tht
•uc«3«88 of material force. Ilonorlus III. has first to contend
with that ungrateful ward of the Holy See. Mild and
patient, he seemi placed between two titern and inflexibk
combatants, Innocent III. and Gregory IX., as if to show
how far Ai)08tolical meekness may go. He preached to
kings his own gentleneas ; he exhaU8ted his ti'easury to furnish
the expenses of the Crusade. He had the happiness of con<
firming the tliree holy orders which were, in some manner, to
revive the fire of charity and faith in tlie 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 yeara old when his brow
was encircled with the tiara (1227), showed, during his reign
of fifteen years, the most indomitable enei;gy, 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
stndy 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,
wliilst he gave his support to the royal widow of Thuringia,
oe extended his paternal solicitude over the meanest serfs oC
:3niotest Christendom, as shown by his letter to the Polish
uobles, wherein he bitterly reproaches them for wearing away
tlie life of their vassals, redeemed and ennobled by the blood
»f Christ, in training falcons or birdd of prey. The zeakMM

mrRoouoTioir.

ftriend of true science, he founds the Unirenity of ToulooM^
and has that of I'aris re-eMtablishcd by St. Louis, not without
a wise protest agauist the encroachments of profane philoso
phy on theology. By the collection of the Decrees, he ha»
the glory of giving the Church her code, wliich was then tliaf
of Hociety at large. The worthy nephew of Innocent III., he
always know 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 (1237). When the
Emperor subsequently violates his most solemn engagements,
and that he is once more obliged to excommunicate him, how
lae autifn i it In tu see that old m a n, almo s t a n hon dred-y»are
and ha i » onoe nio i e ub'. i g e d tu exfomimiuiuat e hinr—how
beautiful it is to see that old man, almost an hundred yean
old, bracing himself up for a desperate struggle, yet charging
V be most careful of the prisoners ; then, when conquered and
abandoned by all, besieged in Rome by Frederic, leagued with
the Romans themselves against him, he finds at that terrible
moment, and In the bo^om 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
'vill permit that sacred deposit to perish before their eyes,
since he could no longer defend them without their assis^
ance ; immediately their heart is touched - thoy vwear t«
conquer or die for their holy Pontiff — ^the Eir 'erv » ' pulsed,
and the Chnrch delivered.

After him came Innocent IV., (1242,) who, though ip
to ih-i viTy moment of his election a friend and .partisan of
Fred^v!0. is no sooner elected than he sacrifices all his former
lie* to the »v^a«t mj^ion confided to him, and that admirable

iMTIOOUOTlOlf.

ToulooM^
ot withoat
Be philosa
;e8, he ha>
tbeii tltaf
Dt in., he
ling recoil-
Kcomrouni*
ity against
gainst the
they were
When the
;agemeiitP
I him, how
Elfe<J-y4*ar8
'hiin^~~hoif
idred yean
it charging
aered and
kgncd with
at terrible
>t strength
1 the relics
procession
jther tliey
their eyes,
eir assist-
•wear t«
^ rt'pnlsec!,

hongh vip
artisan of
bis former
admirabit

unity of pnrpote which hml for two hundred yenrii aninnnt^
all hit predocoMors. Pui^'outed, tnenacud, Mhut np between
(' d Imperial coliimnn width, fnrn rierinnny in the north, and
Sicily in the aouth, gather u. 'Ufid tli« J^^^oincd city which ia
now his pHAOu. lie must ftideavOxtf to em^ape. Where i^ h«
to find an asylum f Every sovereign in Kurope, even St,
Louis, refuses to receive him. Happily, Lyon^ is fiO(% ana
iK'longs only to an independent Aruhbi«l, p. Tli re Innocent
■KscmMca all the Bishops who could oscn]^> from the tyrant,
nnl }ib venerable brotliers, the Cardinals; to the latter he
L'^ives the scarlet hat, to denote that they should always be
roady to shed their blood for the Church ; an I then, ftroin
that supreme tribunal which Frederic had himself invoked
uiid recognised, and before which his advocates came sol-
eumly to plead his cause, the fugitive Pontiff 1 ilminates,
against the most powerful sovereign of that time, the sen-
tence of deposition, as the oppressor of religious liberty, the
spoiler of the Chnrch, a heretic and a tyrant. Glorii ns and
ever-memorable triumph, of right over might — of faith over
material interest ! — The third act of that sacred urama,
wherein St. Gregory VII. and Alexander III. had already
trampled under foot the rebellions element, amid the accla*
mations of saints and men t We all know how Proviaence
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 race;.

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 cr»>
die, to the care of Innocent III., so the friends and allies
of his granfison, Conradine, the last of the bouse of Snabift,
would not iutrnst him to any other guardian than the very
Pontif who had deposed his grandaire ; and who managed

IflTBODUOTIOS.

bis trast loyally and well, till it was torn from liifl grafp h§
ike perfidious Mainfroy.

The straggle continues against the latter, and all the othei
enemies of the Church, carried on with the same intrepidity,
the same perseverance, under Alexander lY., (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 IT., (1261,) that shoemaker's son who, far
from being ashamed of his origin, had his father painted on
the church windows of Troyes, 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 gieatest 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 lY., who^sues in vain for the life of Couradine,
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 YIII.

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-
em 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 wai
tralf barbarous At the Mune time, and with the lamv ^od

IVTROOOOTIOV.

grafp by

\\1 the othei
intrepidity,
l,)awortbj
ready given
d after him,
in who, far
painted on
trade ; who
btholic piety
ent(1264);
angers, dies,
ins: to the
ouiB, and a
8 completed
' Couradine,
' his family,
the Chnrch
ed with far
lifaceVIII
at Pontiffs
it, far from
rnal organi-
ttention as
They con-
erance, the
the fall of
kneading
and north-
ope, distin-
ialntary, in
1 that wai
same

itancy, did they propagate science and learning, placing tb«v
within reach of all ; they consecrated the natural equality ot
the human race, calling to th| highest dignities of the CharcL
men born ii the lowest classes, for whatever little learning 00
virtue they might have ; they fabricated and promnlgaied
the magnificent code of ecclesiastical legislation, and that
clerical jurisdiction, the benefits of which were the more sen*
sibly 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
such chiefs, many human miseries were found mixed up witk
80 much greatness and sanctity ; it will always be so whilsi
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 Qod and those of humanity were
defended with nobler courage, or by more illustrious chanv*
■pions.

In front of that majestic Church arose the second power,
before which the men of those times bent in homage ; thai
Holy Roman Empire, from which all secondary royaltiot
eeemed to flow. Unhappily, since the end of the Saxon
dynasty, in the eleventh century, it had passed into the hand!
of two families, in whom the great and pious spirit of Chari
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
l^arbarossa, 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-centnry which hii reign ahaMMl
3

16 IXTRODUCTIOV.

wholly embraces.* It seems to os impossible, even Tor th«
mostprcjndiced mind, not to be struck by the immense differ-
ence between the commencement of his reign, in the dnya
when he was faithful to the Roman Church, which had so
carefully watched over his minority,t and the last twenty
years of his life, during which the glory of his earlier ycani
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 ; gatli-
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 hut 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,! soon after shut himself up in a disgraceful

• King of Sicily in 1198; Emperor in 1815; died In 12S0.

t Innocent IH., Ilonorius III., and Gregory IX., liad, all three, & share in '\it\af-
iBf him up -the first as Pope, and the other two as Cardinals.

X She refiised liim in order to become a Fmnciscan nun; the Bmperer, •»
hawing it, said: "If she ha<l preferred any other man to me, I would Iftve Xnm
iweafed); bat ainoe site haa only preferred God, I eui aay Botlilnf .'*

IlTTRODUOTIOir

, tbare in l-rtn^

lerafjlio, sorroanded by Saracen gaard». By the siie of thii
moral sensualism, be speedily proclaims a sort of political
materialism which was, at least, premature in the thirteenth
century. He shocks all the ideaf of Christianity, by going
to the Holy Sepulchre as the ally of the Mussulman princes,
Rnd no longer as the conqueror of the Holy Land. On hit
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 doctriues 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;
and he caused his Chancellor, Peter des Yignes, 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 vitaf
force of Christianity. A far different 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 Ow»
with his own gifts, stricken with the anathemas of the Church,
progressing every day in cruelty, perfidy, and duplicity;* load*
iiig 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 hit
reign, as under those of his predecessors, Germany (which,
indeed, Mw but little of him) was in a flourishing condition ;

* For ii ivtanoe, the tortnre Inflietad on the mii of th« Doge Tlepolo, on th« BislMf
•( Areuo, and ths Imprisonment of the Cardionts «'bo rei>airad to tlie OooBitf
wUdi bimMlf bad demanded.

iffif*

IVf BODUCTXO*.

8).e saw the power of the Wittelsbachs grow in Bavaria ; ^he
admired the splcndoar of the Aastrian priaces, — Frederii; the
Victorious, and Leopold the Qlorioos, whv) was said to Im)
brave 09 a lion^ and modesf^as a young virgin; she extolled
the Tirluos of the house of Thoringia, under the father-in-law
and the husband of St. Elizabeth; she saw in the Archbishop
Eogelbert of Cologne a martyr to justice and public safety,
whom the Church hastened to enrol amongst her Saints. licr
(Hties, like those of the Low Countries, were developing theui-
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 Ghibeliae 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 Hoheu-
staufeus, there was silently springing up, in the person of
Elodolph 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 on
the altar, and exclaimed, " Behold my sceptre I I want no
other."

If the Empire seemed to have departed fiom 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
ihe herself contained within her bosom a deep wound which
must be healed at any cost, if she would maintain her unity,

IVTROOfJOTlOV.

Mkl dairy ont her high destiny. We a.lade to tliat nest of
heresies both anti-social and anti-religioas which disgraced the
soath, and had its seat amongst those rwrupt masses known to
history as the Albigenses. The world is now well acquainted
with the character and the doctrines of those men, who were
worthily represented by princes whose debaucheries make ni
shadder, and who have been so long extolled by lying historians
at the expense of religion and trath. 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, bat even Spain and
Italy, would have been then lost to faith and tme civilization,
if the Crusade had not been victoriously preached against that
iniquitous centre of Pagan and Oriental doctrines. There it
no doubt that, in putting down that rebellion against Ghrii^
tianity, means were too often employed which Christian charic)
could not approve, and which were censured by the Holy See
even at the height <^ l^at fierce contest. But it is now
icknowledged that tliose cruelties were, at least, reciprocal;
and no one has yet, as far as we know, devised the means of
making war, and especially religions war, with mildness and
lenity. It is tnie 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 hii
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 feelingi
towards those who disturbed the peace of Gonscienoes an/

IMTBODUOTIOV.

overtorned all the barriera of morality. His own charactH
and that of his age are conjointly depicted in the words which
he pronounced when aboot to undertake an unequal contest
"The whole Church prays for me — I cannot fail.'' And again,
when pursued by the enemy, and having, with bis cavalry,
crossed a river which the infantry could not pass, he went
back again with five men only, crying out: ** The little onef
of Christ are exposed to death, and shall I remain in safety f
Let Qod'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
jhe 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 asked
what it was that occupied his mind during his long and fre-
quent reveries? "I am thinking,'' he replied, "of the meani
of restoring to France the power and the glory which she had
under Charlemagne,'^ and during his long and glorious reign
be 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 th'^ 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 pamful aacrifice^

IWTRODCCTIOir.

[ charactM
ords wbich
al contest
A.nd again,
is cavalry,
s, he went
little onef
in safety f
1 them."
ecured the
,t straggle,
J, de Mont-
prayer and
rhich could
;on, coming
lain in the

[ preparing
s with the
Philip An-
lys of that
" which it
was asked
ig and fre-
the meang
eh she had
rious reign
it thought,
d away by
[idation of

done hie
owed him*
pporter of

Bacrificci

hi OTercoming his rooted aversion for the wife whom Romt
imposed upon him. Reconciled with his people through his
reconciliation with her, he soon after received his reward fh>m
heaven, in the great victory of i5on vines (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 Coucy,
Quillaume dcs Barres, and Guerin de Senlis, at the same time
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 prosperons 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 tot 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. Tiiis 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 modem
times, whilst the Christian venerates him as having possessed
svery v trtuo that can merit heaven. While reading the history

INIftODUCTIOV.

of that life, at once so touching and so soblime, we ask if evef
the King of heaven liad on earth a more faithful servant thaa
that angel, crowned for a time with a mortal crown, in order
to show the world how man can transfigure himself by charitj
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 iuduced him to repudiate t\e unlawful acqui'^itions of hii
predecessors, even at the expense of the public safety, and tlie
aflfection 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 soula,
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 ho
showed at Tailleboui*g 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 his own brother
when he violated its holy rules; who was not ashamed, before,
his departure for the Holy Land, to send mendicant monki
throaghout his kingdom, in order to inquire of the meanest of
his subjects if any wrong had been done them in the king^i
name, and if so, to repair it immediately at his expense. Hence,
tm 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*
ilvity, aad theu death — ^aepecies of martyrdom it was— the

IVTBODUOTIOV.

OD!y martyrdom he eoold have obtained — the only deati that
was worthy of him. On his death-bed he dictates to k i aon
his memorable instmctioos, the finest words erer spot by
the month of a king.

Jast before he expired, he was heard to mormor -"O
Jerusalem 1 Jerusalem P Was it the hearenly or the e /thly
Jerusalem that he thns apostrophised in regret, or in s* blime
iiope ? He would not enter the latter by treaty, and w thcMt
ills army, lest his example should authorize other Ch' istlan
kings to -^o the same. But they did better: not one went
there , c< 4 him. He was the last of the Crusader ki igs— >
the truly Christian kings — the last, and assuredly the greatest.
He has left as two immortal monuments — his oratory and hia
tomb — the Holy Chapel and St. Denis— both of them pure,
simple, and pointing heavenward like himself But he left ont
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 Angu^te the infamous John
Sans Terre (Lack-land), and to St. Louis only the pale and
feeble Henry III. But if royalty is there at its lowest ebb,
the Church shiiies in all her splendour^ and the nation sue*
eessfully defends her mest important rights. The Church had
been happily blessed in England with a succession of great
men in the primatial see of Canterbury, perhaps nnequar.ed in
her annals. Stephen Langton was, under the reign of John,
the worthy representative of Innocent III., and the worthy
Kuccossot of St. Dnnstan, de Lanf^anc, St. Ansclm, and St.
Tliomos a Becket. After having courageously defended the
e<x>lcsiastical privileges, he places himself at the head of th*
insurgent barons, and raised an army for Ood and the hol^
Church, which forced from the king that famous Magnm
Charta — ^the basis of that English constitution which th«

IVTBODUOTIOV.

uodenui hare so much admired, forg;etting, doobtleas, that it
wu bat tho effect of feudal organization, and that tiiis fery
charter, far from being an innovation, was only the re-establisli-
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 indiTidual rights. Under Henry III., who
was oiiiy kept on his tottering throne by tiie power of tho
Holy See pre?euting the reunion with France, which would
hare 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 Ihe leader^
ship of the noble son of Simon do Montfort, brave and pious
as his father, who was defeated and killed at the end of hii
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 Cf^en 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.) In the Scan-
dinavian kingdoms, the thirteenth century commences under
the great Archbishop Absolom de Lund (1201) — an intrepid
warrior and a holy ponti£f— the benefactor and civilizer of
those northern tribes. Sweden was progressing under the
grandson of St. Eric; and Norway, which had retained the
most traces of the old Germanic constitution, was enjoying
nnwonted peace, under Haquin Y. (1217-1208), her princi*
pal legislator. Waldemar the Yictorions (1202-1252), tho
giost illustrious of the kings of Denmark, extended his empire
oter all the ■outhcrn coasts of the Baltic, and preluding the

INTRODUCTIOir.

onioa of Calmar, conceived, and was on the point of execii>
ting, the grand project of uniting, under one chief, all tb«
countries bordering on the Baltic, when the battle of Bom*
hoveden (1227) gave the Germanic tribes the Hupremacj over
the Scandinavians. But, throughout all his conquests, hh
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-OIaius, founded solely for thai
purpose in 1203, and afterwards by those of the Teutonic
knights. The removal of the chief strength of this lost order
into Prusfia, iu order to implant Christianity there (1234),
is an immense fact in the history of religion aud of the civili*
Eation of Northern Europe. If human passions found their
way all too soon into that Crusade, which lasted for two ceo-
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 coiiqnerors.*

Casting our eye along the same geographical line, we see
Poland already manifesting the foundations of the orthodoa
fnnffdom.-f 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 agaioit
the advance of those terrible hordes, who had enslaved Ros*
flia, and overrun Hungary, poured out rivers of her best blood

* Id 1119, t legita from th« Pope went to ProMla, to tMoro to lb*
pnepio the freedom of marrUige end soeeeufcme, 4e.
t Tb* UtU iliMe flTM b7 tlie r^pee to PolMd.

ItfAODVOTIOV.

daring all that ceatory — thus preparing to become, what the
haa ever since been, the glorious martyr of Christendom.

Desconding once more towards the soath of Europe, and
oontewplating that Italy which was wont to be the most
brilliant and the most active of the Christian nations, the soul
Is at <Vr8t saddened at the sight of those cruel and intcrmina*
Ule straggles of the Guclphsand Qhibclincff, and all that vast
empire of hatred which diffused itself throughout the land
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
bad 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*
lions impressed on the history of every one of the innumerable
republics which cover its surface. We are amazed at that
iif^redible fecundity of monuments, institutions, foundations,
great men of aU kinds, warriors, poets, artists, whom we
liebold springing up in each of those Italian cities, now so
folate and forlorn. Never, assuredly, since the ^lassie ages
of ancient Greece, was there seen such a mighty development
of human will, such a marvellous value given to man and hii
works, so much life in so small a space ! But when we think
of the prodigies of sanctity which the thirteenth century saw
fn Italy, we easily understand the bond which kept all those
impetaouB souls together, no vem^iber tbat river of Cbrittlai

iVTmo»goTioff«

cbaiity which flowed on, deep and incotiuDeDRarabl^, ood«r
thoM wild storiuti tmd rugiog teas. In the midit at' that unl^
yenol courusion, cities grow Ai\d flourish, their popnlatiou if
often tenfold wiiat it uow is — ^masterpieces of art are pro-
duced— commerce every day increases and Bt*ienre maiies
ftill more rapid progress. Unlike the Qcraianic States, all
political and social existence if concentrated with the nobles
in the cities, none of which, howe?cr, u as then so predominaul
•f to absorb the life of the others ; aod this free concurrence
amongst them may explain, in part, the Qoheard 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 Genoa 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 tliat quarter and half of
the Eastern Empire, of which she was so long prond. The
league of the Tuscan cities, sanctioned by Innocent III., gaTt
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 Virgin before the glorious victory of Arbia, and
Florence especially, perhaps the most interesting coalition of
medem times. At every page of the annals of these citiev,
one finds the most touching instances of piety, and of the
most elevated patriotism. To quote but one amongst a thou*
sand, when we see people oomplain, Kke those of Ferrara,
that they are not taxed heavily enough for the wants of the
couutry, 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 eertaia that the great atruggle between tiie spiritoal and

INTRODUCTIOr.

the temporal power was nowhere so manifested aa there ;
and, indeed, the latter, redaced to the necessity of being rep*
resented by the atrocious Eccelin, the lieutenant of Frcdv
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 Em«
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 eT<try
respect, the heroic age of that most noble nation, the age iu
which it gained both its territory and independence, with the
glorious title of the Catholic moiiarehy. 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 son, 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 Caesar
his own chronicle, and who, dnnng 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
11208-1215), the worthy prtcarsor of bun who wat, two

XVTAODUCTIOir*

M there;
being re|»«
, of Fredo"
)rity of the
the sceptre
II. and h\i
a wise and
try and the
h that Effl-
onies, until
of Anjou—
laintain the
3 of Europe

)re in study*
te thirteenth
ras, in ev<*ry
I, the age iu
ice, with the
two great
1, after that
g his crown
irms against
whose wife
le by taking
like GiBsar
iy-fouryeai^'
lined thirty
In Castile,
the Short,
niversity of
the fame
of Toledo
WM, two

^Milarvei later, to immortalise the same name ; he was, like
many of the prelates of that age, an intrepid warrior, a pro>
found pi>)iiician, 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 Toloeo
(16th July, 1212,) when Spain did for Europe what France
bad done ubder 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 engi»^ement — ^the true type of a Christian battle —
consecrated Uk the memory of the people by many a miracu-
lous tradition, and which the great Pope Innocent III. could
not worthily relebrate but by instituting the feast of the
Triumph of th« Cross, Wiiich is even now solemnised on that
day in Spain. Alphonso was succeeded by St. Ferdinand, —
a contemporary 4nd cousin-german of St. Louis, — who was no
disgrace to his illustrious kindred, for, like St. Louis, he
united all the nterits of the Christian warrior to all the vir*
tues of the Saint, and the most tender love for his people
with the moht ard<.ut love for God« He would never consent
to load his people with new taxes : " Qod will otherwise pro>
vide for our defenc*;,^' said he, " I am more afraid of the curse
of one poor w^oman 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
aad 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 Qrenada : but
humble in the midst of all his glcry, and extended on his bed
of death, he weeping ezcUimf : — ".0 my lord I. Thou h«flt

XJfrTllODVOTIOir.

■utfered so mdch for lore of me ! and I — ^nuhappj that I tnl
—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 soathward against the heretics, or east-
ward against the profaners of the Holy Sepulchre. That
great thought prevailed from time to time over all local ques-
tions, all personal passions, and absorbed them all into one.
It expired only with 8t. Louis ; and was still in all its vigour
during the first half of the thirteenth century. In its opening
years, Foulquea of Nenilly — 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 di
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. Thi<t conquest was,
moreover, but a just chastisement inflicted on the Greek Em-
perors for their perfidy, in having always betrayed the causd
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 compli ; until they had seen the Holy
Land ; such were Thibant de Champagne, who celebrated
that expedition in sucb noble verses ; the holy Duke LOuis,
husband of our Elisabeth, whom we shall see die on the wayj
Leopold of Aostrfik, and f ten the king of distant Vonrty,

IVT^ODUOTIOV.

iirho wonld go in company with St. Loais. The wives of
these noble knights hesitated not to accompany them on
these distant pilgrimages, and there were almos* as many
princesses as princes in the camps of the Crusaders. £?ea
boys were carried away by the general enthusiasm ; and it ii
au 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 empirs
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 oflf the imperial purple and hit
glorious armour, to a^umo 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
irhose 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

a»

INTRODUCTIOH.

the overthrow of the Greek Empire by a handful of Franks $
in S{)ain, las Navas de Tolosa by St. Ferdinand ; in France.
Bouvines and St. Lcnis ; in Germany, the glory and tlic fall
of the Hohenstaafen 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 must 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 antiqulij. 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 gentoB ai nations
to the level of a barren uniformity; charged, on the contrary,
to watch over the maintenance of all the individual rights
and holy cnstoms of other days, as over the regular develop-
ment of local wants and particular inclinations ; finally, pre-
liding over that grand feudal system which was wholly bused
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 miscraole decrepitude
of the Byzantine Empire, clearly show what the lay pow<Y

IVTBODUCTIOV.

irould h&Te been if left to itself, whilst its alliance with the
Church giave to the world crowned saints like St. Loais of
France, and St. Ferdinand of Spain — kings whose equals
have never since appeared.

So much for the political and social life of those timoi.
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
grander and more marvellous ^till, and is much more nearly
a])proximat«d to the life of the saint whose virtu(» 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
ef 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, Fremontre, 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 lo^c. The disease of Christendom required some
new and sovereign remedy ; its benumbed limbs required a
violent shock ; strong arms and (tout hearts were required
at the helm. This necessary and much-desired succour waa
speedily sent by God, who has sworn never to desert Hit
spouse, and never will desert her.

They wert, indeed, prophetic visions wherein Innocent III.
and Honorius III. saw the bapi'ic of Latran, the mother and
the cathedral of pU Ohn^tvri Churches,* about to fall, and

* We read ia the lr«r ir'J' a t^j^ lole reirsdns at tb« aneiant ttoat, on the modera
portiU of St «fuhp. <vt f^at:»'i: '^Pegmatl PH>«U data* mo rimul ImiMriali, qaod t»m
f uneterum onfttw et crpqt ".^'-^Mtarum,^ A*.

IlTTRODUCTtOir.

fupported either by an Italiaa friar or a poor Spanish priest
Behold him ! — 1)ehold that priest descending from the Pyre*
nees into the south of France, overran by heretics — going
barefoot through briers and thorns lo preach to them. It ii
the great St. Dominic de Gusman,* whom his mother saw,
before his birth, nnder the form of a dog carrying a blazing
torch in his month — ^prophetic emblem of his rlgilance and
burning zeal for the Church ; a radftint star was shining on
his brow when he was presented for l^aptism ; he grew np in
holiness and parity, having no other love than that divine
Virgin whose mantle seemed to him to cover all the heavenly
country; his hands exhale a perfume wnich inspire chastity in
all who approach him; he is mild, afikble, and humble towards
ail ; he has the gift of tears in great abundance ; he sells
even the books of his libraiy to relieve the poor ; he would
e«en sell himself to redeem a captive from the heretics. Bat»
in order to save all t&e soqIs who were exposed to such im-
minent peril, he conceives the idea of a religions order, no
longer cloistered and sedentary, bat 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 t^
strike the goilty world ; but Mary interferes, and, in order to
appease her son, presents to him Dominick himself and another
person nnknown 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
Redeemer. He instantly throws himself into his arms: " Thou
art my brother,*' said he, ** and dost run the same conrso with
me; let 08 work together, and no man can prevail against as.''
And from that moment, the two had but one heart and out

la mO; Upm to piwel to 1100; dto4 to 1«.

nrTRODUOTioir.

M>u1. fhat mendicant was St. FVancis of Aaaisium, " Um
glotio J begpfar of Christ"

He, too, had conceived the idea of re-conqnering the world
by humility and love, by becoming the minor— the leaat of
all men. ^e undertakes to restore her spouse to that diviAilV
poverty, i^idowed since the death of Christ. At the age of>
twenty-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 tlie world by
that folly, he overcomes it. Tlie mor^ that sublime fool de*
^ades himself voluntarily — to the end that, by his humility
«nd contempt of men, he may be worthy of becoming the
vessel of love — the more his greatness shines fcrth and pene-
trates afa. off, — 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 bi6
pnre body by Him who loved the world even unto death.
Franciin, too, embraced the whole world in his fervent love ;
6rst, all mankind, whom he loved to excess : • ' If I did not
give," said he, as he stripped off his only garment to cover *
poor man — " If I did not give what I wear to him who waft
in more need of it than myself, I should be accused of robberf
by the Great Almoner in heaven.^ Then all nature, animate
■nd inanimate, — every creature, is to him as a brother or
t sister, o whom he prtvshes the Word of their common
Father, whom he would fain deliver fh>m the oppression of
man, and whose pains he would, if possible, relieve. " Why,*
Mid he to a butcher, " nhy io yon h^ng and tortvre mf

IVTmODUOTIOV.

brethren, the lambs ?^ And to captiye birds . " Ye dore^
my dear little siRters, simple, innocent and pure, why did yoQ
allow yourselves to be caught thus V* " He knew/' says his
biographer, a Saint, like himself, " that all creatures had the
same origin as he ; and he proved, by uis tenderness towards
them, as well as by their miraculous obedience towards him
what man, victorious over sin and restored to his natural con-
nection ^'ith 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 preciOwS relic of that poverty whose
" desperate lover" he was, accnrJing to Bossnet ;* tho 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 Alvemo 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 nnderstood 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
•Torywhere, from the constitutions of the sovereign Pontiffs
to the songs of the Poets. ** When the reigning Emperor,"

• Bitppj, • thoQMnd times bnppj, Is tiut hamble Fhuidn, th« most wdf at, tbt
BiMt passionate, and, if I maj ro speak, the most desperate lover of porefty thil
ferhaps ever was in the Church. — Bossuar, Paniffyriqu« d« SL /Vonfol*.

t Oorpore sac Cbilst* trlumplialla stlpMatft pmfereatl««-Bvu. «r JLtaoAmm
If ^ Bmigna,

IIITRODOOTIOH.

pays Dnnte, "woold lave his army from a dangerous position,
he sent these tw(» chairpions to his wife's assistance : their
words, their inflneacct brought the people hack to reason."
" These two orders,** sayp. tiixtus IV., in 1479, after two cen-
turies and a half of experience, " like the two first rivers of
the terrestrial Paradise, have watered the soil of the universal
< 'hnrch by their doctrine, their virtnes, and their merits, and
render it every day more fruitful ; they are, as it were, two
fieraphim, who, raised on the wings of snblime contemplation
and angelic loTe above all earthly things, by the assiduous
singing of the divine praises, by the manifestation of the
immense favours conferred on man by the Supreme Artificer,
do unceasingly gather into the granaries of the Holy Church
abundant sheaves from the pure harvest of souls redeemed by
the precious blood of Jesus Christ. They are the two trum-
pets whereof the Lord makes use to invite the nations to the
banquet of His holy Gospel.'*

Scarcely were |hese orders in existence, when their power
and their propagation became one of the most important his-
torical facts of tl.^ period. The Church suddenly finds herself
mistress of two numerous armies, moveable and always avail-
able, ready at any mcsscnt 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 Narbonne, 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, 'jeni by Innocent lY. and St. Louis, penetrate
to Morocco, to Damascus, and even amongst the Mongols ;
i>Gt t?ieir chief care ii to overcome the passions of pi^nifiD

IVtmODVOTtOV*

Id the heart of Christian nations. They spread abroad OTer
Italy, ion asani^er by internal diasensioni, seeking; e?ery
where to reo)ncile opposite parties, t^ nproot errors, acting
as supreme arbiters, accordii^ ts the law of charity. They
were seen, in 1283, trarersing the whole Italian peninsula,
with crosses, incense, and olire-branches, singing and preach-
ing peace, reproaching cities, princes, and eren the chiefs of
the Church, with their faults and their enmities. The nations
submit, 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 Yisconti, 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
woods, " My peace I leave you ; my peace I give unto you ;**
and, before he ends, an outburst of tears ajnd sobs shows that
eyeiy heart is touched, and the chiefs of the rival houses of
Este and Romano, embracing each other, ^ive the signal for
a general reconciliation It is tioe that these happy results
did not last long ; but the evil was, at least, yigorously
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 Bane of grace and foith against the dryness and
the paucity of scientific reasoning. Nothing escaped thir
iiew influence ; it moved the scattered inhabitants of the
rural d'atricts ; it shared the sway of the universities ; it
even affected the king on his throne. Joinville tells us how,
at the first place where he landed on hfs return from th(
Orusade, St. Louis was welcomed by a Fianciscan, who tolc*
Um that " nev<^r was kingdom lost, saTe for want of ioslioe

IVTBOnUOTIOH.

and that he mast bd carefal to adminiiter Justice promptly and
willingly to hifl people ; and that every one waa miiidfal of
the king.'' It is well known how he sought to steal away
from his dearly beloTed wife, his friends, and coansellors, 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 themselvec for Christ, and the vasi
affiliations known under the name of third ordert offered a
place for princes, warriors, married people, fhthers 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.

Ti .dition relates that the two glorious patriarchs of that
regeneration ha 1 at one time an idea of uniting their efforts
and their orders^ apparently so much alike ; but the celestial
inspiration on which they acted revealed to them that there
jfM 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 g^at rivals which cannot
exist one without the other. This reconciliation was effected
by them aa it had never been before. Whilst the love that
consumed and absorbed the soul of St. Francis has ever
gained for him in the Clhnrch 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 th«t^

INTBODUCTIOV.

dating from that period of the Church's hifltorj, the pnrt
which \\M CHpccially fallen to the Sornphic Order wor the
diHtilliiig and diffuHion of the treasures of luve, the mysterious
Joys of sacrifice ; whilst that of the Preachers was, as tlicir
unuic iuipliet<, to propagate, defend, and establish the truth.
Neither one nor the other failed in its mission ; and both in
tlioir adolescence, and in the course of the half century of
which we speak, gave to the Church, perhaps, more Saints
and Doiictors 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 or ler ; then St. Peter of Verona,
tionoured 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 PoUsn
nobles, who, meeting St. Dominick in Rome, were induced to
renounce all worldly greatness, in order to carry that pew
light to their own country, whence it was to spread with
lightning rapidity through Lithuania, Muscovy, and Prussia ;
(hen, 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 Visconti, who was to preside over the affairs of the
Church under the MMne of Gregory X., before he becauie
eternally entitled t^ its prayers, as Beatified in Heaven.
Abreast of these mes vhose sanctity th? Church has conse*
crated a host of oikers urere distinguished for their talents
nnd learning. Albe - the Great, that colossus of learning,
tlie propagator of Aristotle ind the master of St. Thomas :
Vincent de iteaavais author of the great encyclopsdia of tht

IITTIIODrCTIOir.

fnuldle afrei ; Cardinal Hogaet de Saint-Ctier, who mado th«
first concordance of the Scriptares ; Cardinal Henri de Snion,
author of La Summe Doret ; and above all, in saoctltj as in
knowledge, the great St. Tliomas d'Aqninas, the Angelic
Doctor^ the gigantic thinker, in whom there Kcems to Iw
■umined np all the science of the ages of faith, and wIiom
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. "Tlion
host written well of me," said Christ to him one day ; "what
reward dost thou ask V* " Yoarself," replied the Saint That
word comprises his whole life and times.

The army of St. Francis marched to battle nnder chiefs
no less glorious than those of the Dominicans ; during his
own lifetime, twelve of his first disciples went to gather th«
palms of martyrdom amongst the heathen. B. Bernard,
B. Egidins, and B. Guy of Cortonn, all of that company oi
Saints who were companions and disciples of the holy founder,
survived him, ond preserved the inviolable deposit of that
spirit of love and b iioiility wherewith be had been transported
Scarcely had ♦iie Seraph taken his place before the throne of
God, when hb pio ^e in the veneration of the world is occupied
by him whom all proclaim as his first-born- - St. Anthony of
Padua, L^bratf i, like his spiritual father, for that control
over natnrv, whi':h won for him the name of Thanmatnrgns ;
he who wan named by Gregory IX. the Ark of the Two
Cowerumls ; «rho had the gift of tongaes, like the Apostles ;
who, after hating edified France and Sicily, spends his lait
years in pr2fx:bing peace and anion to the Lombard cities,
oblaims from the Padnans the privilege of the cession of funds
for unhappy debtors, ventures also to upbraid the ferocious
Eccelin with bis tyranny, makes the nithless oppressor treni>
blc, 08 he hunself confewes, and diet at thirty-six, in the lamt

tHTH004T0TI0ir.

year with St. Elizabeth. Somewhat later, Roger Bacon*
reinstates and sanctifies the stadj of nature, classifies all the
icicnecs, and foresees, if he does not even eflfect, the greatest
discoveries of modern times. Duns Scotos disputes with St
Tiiomas the empire of the schools ; and that great genins findi
a rival and a friend in St. Bonaventure, the Seraphic Doctor^
who being asked by his iUnstrions rival, the Angelic Doctor^
from what books he derived his amazing knowledge, pointed
in silence to his crucifix, and who was found washing th«
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 anequalled 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, and 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
Afisisium, in that same city, Clara Sciffi, the daughter oS a
powerful Count, felt hersi^lf inspired with a similar seal. She
^ only eighteen years of age, when, on a Palm-Sunday,
whilst the palms borne by others are withered and faded,
hers suddenly blooms anew. It is for her a precept and t
warning from on high. That very night, she *flies from her

• Bora In 1814 To bira to attributed th« diseoyery <^ gonpowder, the
fe. It is known that he presented to Clement IV. that plati ofseforaiof lb*
•m, whldi w« afterward* adopted bf Oregorj XIEL

.fVIRODUOTIO*.

father's hoose, penetrates to tSe Portiuneula, kneels at the
feet 0^ St. Francis, receives from his hands the cord and the
coarse woollen habit, and devotes herself like him to evangel
lc«.i poverty. In vain do her parents persccote her ; she li
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 rnle, since her strict seclusion forbade her to go,
like the Friars Minora, to solicit charity from the faithful,
and rednced her to depend on chance assistance. She obsti-
nately resists, and Innocent lY. 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 rer-
dure, can well feed and clothe you till the day when He shall
give Himself for your eternal aliment — when He will cTsbrace
you with His victorious arm in the fnlnesi of His glory and
beatitude." Three Popes and a multitude of other saintly and
noble personages came to seek light and consols tim from that
humble virgin. In a few years she sees a whole army of pioni
women, with queens and princesses at their head, rising and
encamping in Europe, under the rnle of Francis of Assisiara,
living under her direction and called from her Poor Claree,
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, and
tliey 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 Poti*
tiff, who had witnessed her death, proposes her at once to th«
leueration of the £aithfol, proelaimlng her the resplendeol

IHTRODUOTIOV.

light of the temple of God, the princess of poverty, and the
duchess of humility.

As St. Franci» found a friend and sister in St Clare, so
did St. Anthony of Padua in the blessed Helena Ensimel!* ;
bjit, by a marvellous effect of divine grace, it is especially
amongst the daughters of kings 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 Hang<iry,
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 Elisens 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 hand 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, sistei' 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
vnited our Elizabeth to St. Francis and St. Clare, whom she
had taken for models, it is chiefly her family which offers to
Ihe 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
|aret of Hungary, prefers the order of St. Dominick in which

IVTRODUCTIOir.

«hc dies at the age of twenty-eight, the grand-daughter of her
r'ster, named after her Elhsabcth, having become Qneen of
Portugal, embraces, like her, the third order of St. Francis,
and like 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
tlie 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 teft
years old, when the fugitive Pope had not in Italy a spot
wliere he might remain, went 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, merited
to be exiled at fifteen, by order of Frederick II., and returned
in ti* r^j^i with the Church, to die at seventeen, the admira-
I'on -y. v»ii 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 Tirgin-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*
coding 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
Ihe two great mendicant orders who raised that devotion to
a position at once firm and exalted. St. Doniinick, by the
establislimcnt of the Rosary, and the Franciscans, by preach*
ing the doctflne of the Immaculate Conception, reared, as it
wete, two majestic coliimns, the one of practice, the other of

IVTftODUOTIOJr.

doctrine, from the sammit of which the gracious Queen of
Angels presided over Catholic piety aud Catholic science.
8t. Boaaventore, the great and learned theologian, becomei
a poet to sing her praise, and twice paraphrases the entirt
Psalter in her honour.* All the worlu and all the institutioui
of th'^ * period, and especially all the inspirations of art as they
have been preserved to us in her great ciilhedrals and in the
lays of her poets, manifest an immense developmeot, in the
heart of Christian people, of tenderness and veneration for

Mar/.f

Jn the very bosom of the Chnrch, and even ontside the
two families of St. Dominick and St. Francis, the devotion to
the Blessed Virgin brought forth effects as precious for the
^Ivation of souls, as venerable for their duration. Three
xew orders were consecrated to her in their very origin, and
placed under shelter of her sacred name. That of Mount
Carmel,! 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
time§ thai; order whose very name denotes the pride they
experienced, in that age of chivahric devotion, in bending
beneath the sweet yoke of the Queen of Heaven; the order of

* BMldM his Specvhtm B. V. JT, which ta, pcrh^M^ th« most popniar work ofth*
Biddle ageci, this Saint has written the PmUm^wtm Mqjut B. V. Jf., which is com*
posed of one hundred aud fifty psalms, aaaloBeaa to those of David, and applied to
the Blessed Virgin ; then the PmUerium, Minute which consists of one hundred
tad fifty four-line stansas; finally th« Laut B. Y* M^ and a paraphrase on tlia
ScUta, also in verse.

t It was in 1220 that the Margi«Te Henry of Monvla, aitd his wife Agnes, founded
the first cbapsi at Mariazell, in Syria, even in our daysaflunons and popular pDgrioi*
tga in Germany. It was only in 1940 that the Av» Maria oanw into general use.

% He received his first rnio from the patriarch Albert, in 180t, was conflrmod la
1228, heeame a mendicant In 124T. The scapular was given by (he Blessed YUgli
to St Simon Stock, who died about 1100.

|Itil989. Tha order vaaoonfitoMdnttboOoudlafX^ro^ la IfTi,

mtROOUOTlOll.

the Sercitet or Serfi of Marj, which immcdiatelj gave to th«
Church St. Philip Benizzi, author of the toncbing devotion of
the Seven Dolors of the Virgin. At length that cherished
name was attached to an institution worthy of her maternal
heart — the Order of Our Lbdy of Mercy,* intended for the
ransom of Christian captives from the infidels. She had her*
self appeared, it was said, on the same night, tc King James of
Aragon, St. Raymond de Penafort, and St. Peter Nolasqaes,
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 the
infidels, so invincible did they find his words.

This same object of mercy, with a desire for the propagtv
tion of the feith, bad, in the preceding century, under tie
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 Talms, who was also the special servant of Mary.
For six hundred years, and even down to our own times,
these two orders have coutmued their peaceful but periloiM
crusade.

Here we ha\e already no less than five new orders, all
instituted within the first thirty years of that century; nor ii
this all ; the desire to unite all energies for good, which had
its principle in that love of Ood and the neighbour which
every thing then tended to develop, was not yet satisfied ;
other religioM^ as they were thenceforward called, wore daily
formed in the bosom of the mother-religion. Len ffumilih
received their definitive rule from Innocent III,, in 1301 ; the
Augustinians (in 1256) under Alexander lY., became tte

[ 1i IH^ appivftd of la IML

IHTBODUCTIOV.

fourth' branch of that great family of Mendicants, in which
the Carmeiiles had already taken their place, by the »uU- of
the Friars Minors and Preachers. The Celestines, fouuduU by
Peter de Mouron, who was afterwards Pope aitd canonized
andor that same name of Celestine, was confirmed by Url)an
IV. (in 1263). In a narrower and more local sphere, St.
Eugene < Strigonia established the Hermits of St. Paul, in
Hungar. ^U 1215); and three pious professors from the Uni«
Tersity of Paris retired to a sequestered valley in the diocese
of Langrcs, to found there, with thirty-seven of their pupils,
the new order of the Val des EcoUers (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 gaudeiUi
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
Uieir patroness ; finally, the immense multitude of the third
f)rders of St. Dominick and St. Francis, composed of married
|iersons and those who lived in the world, yet wished to draw
uear to God. It was the monastic life introduced mto the
tftmily and society.

Then, as if this vast wealth of sanctity belonging to the
4sew orders were not enough for that glorious tioie, illustrious
Saints sprang forth simultaneously from the ancient orders,
the Episcopacy, aud all ranks of the faithful. We have al-

iVrROOUCTlOV.-

re»ilt named St. Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbory, and St
Uedwige, of Poland, who became a Cistercian. By tlicir side,
in the order of Citeaux, it is proper to place St. Quillaame,
Arclibishop of Bourges, another famous defender of ecclesias*
lieal freedom, and a preacher of the Crusade ; St. Thibant de
Montmorency (1247); Etienne de Chatillon (1208) Bishop of
Die, and Philippe Berruyer (1266), Archbishop of Bourges,
both beatified; another St. Gnillaume, abbot of the Paraclete
in Denmark, whither he had brought the piety and learning
of the canons of St. OenevieTe of Paris, whence he had goc9
forth (died in 1209); in the order of St. Benedict, St. Sylvea-
ter d'Osimo and St. William of Mbnte-Yirgine, 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 Qod, 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
Yalombrense, whose very name describes her whole life.
Amongst the Virgins, St. Yerdiana, the austere recluse of
Florence, who extended even to serpents her invincible ch»>
\\jy (died in 1222); St. Zita, who lived and died an humble
serv^ant in Lncca, and who was chosen as the patroness of that
powerful republic ; then in Germany, St. Gertrude (bom ill
1222), and her sister St. Mecthilda, who held in the thir»
teenth century the same place that St. Hildegnrde did in the
twelfth and St. Catherine of Sienna in the fourteenth, amongst
those vireius to whom the Lord has revealed the inner ligfata
of hie holv Uw.

fO IHTRODUOTIOV.

Lastly, we most not forget, amongst the wonders of Elizas
beth's time, that work which every succeeding |ige has pro*
oounced unequalled, The Imitation of Christ, whose author
has never been clearly ascertained, tit 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 ardeu i
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 Ciste^ian nun (bt. Juliana, of Liege), confirmed
by the miracle of Bolsena,* and song by St. Thomas of
Aquinas.f

We have no apprehensions of being censured for dwelling
too long on t?ils enumeration of the Saints and religious insti>
ttttions of a period which it is our wish fiiUy to represent ;
Any man who had made a careful study of the middle ages,
must know per\ct!y well that those are the true pivots on
which society 111 en turned ; that the creation of a new ordot
Was then univei&\itly considered as of greater importance than
the formation of r new kingdom or the promulgation of a new
code; that Saintt \-'ere then the true heroes, and that they en-
grossed nearly all Mi*) popularity of the time. It is only when
one has appreciated ^h^. part which prayer and miracles played
tn public opinion, an^ ttudled and comprehended the career
of a St. Francis and a .S( DiuLMck, that he can account for
the presence and the ac^-icx A an Innocent III. and a S%
Louis.

• The fbstlTal was instttated In ISM, b> Tt^tc IF., <n *m ne^^ .tf f^ls vK la*^
t Be U known to bsve drawn up the 00».> a* i^« M aik tf *bi UrXy '^oceoM
mA bt recognised as author f the pnae Latidu Sitt A'Uk tlk k MKH^nk'e j»v ^

a '0

IVTBODUOTIOV.

•I

Bat it was not only the political world that was controlled
Gatuolic faith aad Catholic thought: in its majestic auttj,
^raced all the hniQaa mind, and associated or employed
all its developments. Ilence its power and its glory art
profoundly impressed on all the productious of art and poetry
of that period, whilst, far from restraining, it sanctified and
consecrated the progress of science. Wherefore we find thai
this thirteenth century, so prolific for the faith, was not mor«
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 iLtroductiou of the spirit of classification and generalisa-
tion in directing the intellectual wealth of men. We have
named St. Thomas and his contemporaries in thb Mendicant
Orders ; his name recalls the most glorious era ot theology^-
the first of sciences. The Angelic Doctor and the Seraphic
Doctor criticised at will the famous Peter Lombard, the i/o^
ter of SenttnceH, who had so long controlled the schools ; nor
must we forget either Allan de Lille, the Universal Doctor^
who was still living in the first years of that century, nor
Guillaume Durand, who illustrated its cluse, and gave th»
most complete Liturgical code in his Mationale, 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 distinctioQ
of Blessedf belongs more especially to philosophy. The trans*
lation of the works of Aristotle, undertaken through the
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 world at the pe-
riod of which we write. Legislation was never in a more
prosperous condition. On one side, the Popes, supreme or*
^ns both of faith and right, developed the canon law ai
became that magnificent bulwark of Christian civilisatioii, pi»

IVTKODVOTIOf .

•ided as Jndges with excmplarj aitidiiity,* pabliahed imiDenM
collect ioiiB, and foiiDded oumenius schools. On the other
hand, were seen springing^ up roost of the national codes of
Kurope, the great mirrors of Suablft and Saxony, the first
laws published in German by Frederic IL at the diet of
Maycnce, the code given by him to Sicily; in France, tho
establishments of St. Louis, together witV. tne Common Law
of Peter des Fontaines, and that of Beauvoisis by Philip do
Beaumanoir ; Anally, the French version of the Sessions of
JerumUm, wherein is formed the most complete summary of
Christian and chivalric law. All these precious monnmenta
of the ancient Christian orgiknisation of the world, have come
down to us even in the Teroacnlar tongues, and arc 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 |)ontifical throne, found leisure to compose
the Treasure of the Poor— -or Manual of the Art of Healing.
The introduction of algebra and of Arabic figares,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

* Innocent Ilf . ut In Judgment three thnee e week ; Gregory IX., Innoeenl
IT^ end Bonilkce YIIL, were fiunous Uwyerib We have already ^ken nf St. B»f
mood dA Penafort and Gardlnal Henry Suaon, placed hy Dante in his ParadiM,

t It took place in Italy, aador Frederick 11^ by Leooard Tlbonaed, and la
under Sb LmIbi

IVriODUOTIOV. ii

lime of wLai is called the JUwivai^ being nothing else *liaB
the revival of pngan idoiatrj in arts and Uftten.* It it this
thirteenth century that commcncea with Cimubue an^ tlie
CutheUral of CologuOf that long series of spiectlour which Mmit
but with Ittphael and the dome of Milan. Architecture, the
firat of arts in duration, popularity, and religious sanction,
was also to be the first subjected to the new iiiduenuo dev«*l
oped among Christian nations, the first to illustrate theil
great and holy thoughts. It seems that that immenMe move-
ment of souls represented by St. Dorainick, 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
ampty, for the new emotions of their piety, for the renovated
fervonr of their faith. That ^ivid 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 followinj^
those columns which arise, opposite each other in the Chris-
tian basilic, like prayers which, meeting before Qod, bend and
embrace like sisters : in that embrace they found the ogee.
By its appearance, which only became general in the thirteenth
century, all is modified, not in the inner and mysterious menn<
ing of religions edifices, but in their exterior form. Instead
of extending over the ground like vast roofs destined for the
ihelter of the faithful, all begins then to dart upwards towards

AtfaMMHirTI- oa

)

* Most people are ^qnalnted with the *xe)«inat{ca of Pope AImmmmTI.,
■rrivtng In Rome, after the death of Len X., at alfrlit of all the ancient statnes whkk
had been dit^interred : Proh! idola barbaroruml It waa certainly dictated a*
nach bjr a Jnat senttmMl «tf Ohrlatiao art m bj tbf ptooB amotloa of tha bead of Um
OMbolk Church.

1^ IVTBODUOMOV*

•

tlie Most nigh. The horlxontal line gradoally diMppeoni, in
the pruralent idea of elevation, the hcareDward tendency of
the age. Dating from this momentf no more crypts^ no mora
iobterraneous churches, the geniu of Christianity baring
nothing more to fear, will tnUj manifest itself before tho
world. " Qod wills no longer,'' says the Titunl^ tho greateel
poem of tho time, and furnishing the most perfect theory of
Christian architecture — " Qod wills no longer that bis chosen
people should assemble in a timid and disgraceful manner in
boles and caverns.'' As they chose to shed their blood for
Qod in the Crusades, that choun people will now give their
toil, their imagination, their poesy, to raise up suitable palaces
for the same Qod. Innumerable beanties everywhere abound
in that sprouting of the earth fructified by Catholicity, and
which seems reproduced in every church by the marvelloit
foliage of the capitals, windows and small steeples. It would
lead us much too far were we to ent«r upon the detail of tho
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 Qermany — of the
Gothic or offival style of architecture was the church
built over the tomb of ih« dear St. Elizabeth* with tb«
olferings of the numberless pilgrims who crowded thither.
We must 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, hod their
plan drawn by the hand of men of genius, who disdained to
leare us their name ; the;y loved Qod and their brethren too
much to love glory. There was in Qermany, besides Mar*
tourg, Cologne, (1246) the model church, where the trott

of falthfnl generations has been betrayed by their posteritji-

II .■ ■ I I ii»

• M. Moller, • flunons Qcrmaa waUtoet ^ vu tmn timMt, hM fnMhibiS ¥ ftMr
tiriaoM •zdoiiv*)/ on this ehuroli. (fi— ah. xmxI of oar bistory.)

tXTAODUCTlOy.

«i

bat which, nipeudol io Ita glorj, i% as It wcr«, a clwllcafi
to modem impoteoce ; Cologne, which foruu with Strasbiirg
and Friburg, the magoiftccnt Uothic trilogy of the Rhine.
In France, Chartret, dedicated in 12C0, after a century and
a iialf of patient perseverance; Bhekna (1232,) the Cathedra*
of the monarchy; Auxerre (18L5;) Amiens (1228;) Beanvaif
(1250,) La Sainte Chapelle and St. Dcuis; tlie front of Notr«
Dame (1223;) in Belgiuni, St. Qudule of BriisRels (1226,)
and the church of the Downs {DuMt,) built by four hundred
monks in fifty years (1214-1262;) in Rnglaud, Salisbury, the
fittest of all, (1220;)half of York Minster, (1227-1260;) the
choir of that of Ely (1235;) the nav« of Durham, (12x2,) and
the national abbey of Westminster, (1247:) in Spain, Burgos
and Toledo, founded by St. Ferdinand, (122b;) and Jmost .J
these colossal works undertaken and accomplished by vud
single city or chapter, whilst the moat powerful k'ncrdoms of
our time wonld be unable, with all their fiseality, t« achiere
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 &•
proud a genius V*

Christian sculpture could not but share in the progresf
of architecture, and it then commenced to bear its finest
fruits. Those goodly rows of Saints and Angels which adorn
the fafades of the cathedrals, then (chf^^^ forth from stone.
Then was introduced the uae of those tombs whereon we see
— recFming in the calm sleep of tbe just-^the husband and
wife together, their hands sometimes joined in death as they
bad 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 aagets^ who seem to ha^e received th«
lateit sigh ; the legs crossed, if the warrior had been to tlii

XNTRODUCTIOir.

Crusades. The relics of Saints brought in such numbers 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. Qenevieve won for its author, Ralph the goldsmith, the
first letters of nobility giren in France; and thus it was tha-t,
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-
hook miniatures of St. Louis and of the Miracles of th»
Blessed Virgin^ by Qauthier de Coinsy, 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 pecu-
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

* WolfVata d'Esehonbaeh, oira of the most eolebnitad poots of Qermanj irt that
pitriod (1380X In order ■jo give tn Idee uf the beeaty of one of liis boroea, u.j% thai
Ihepaitters of Cologne or of Meeetrioht eould not have made him flilrai;— >PaHaTaBl
7MA«<r«{M, p. MS.

IVTBODUOTIOK.

n3w 80 loYcly in their sadoess aad 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
r 'eparing the exquisite gem of Santa^Maria della Spina
1230), and also the Gampo-Santo,* the distinctive monu*
lent of the faith, the glory and the genius of a Christiao
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. Giunta of Pisa and Guido 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
<is a triumph, and imagined that an angel had come from
heaven to paint that truly angelic head of Mary, in the
Auiiunciation, which is still venerated there.]; Orvieto be-
held a cathedral arise worthy of figuring among those of the
North (1206-1214). Naples had, under Frederick XL, 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 m paint-
nir : but the influence of St. Francis over lay-artists was

'<-]

'o )

jimense. They seemed to have found the secret of all their

* The p\tm was eonedvcd In IKW, bj the ArehbUhop Ubaldo, bot wm net p«l
Bto exflentlon till 19TS.

t Flourlibed ftom 1107 till 1280; bU nuNter-pteeee are the pulpit of the bepthtcrj
•r Pisa, tliat ot the dome of Sienna, and the tonb of St Dr minlek In Bolojpa.

X Intbe(%arebof thOiStrvilM,' It waa painted, a«oo» log to the Inaeriptloa, li
rS59.

% Tommaaao de Bteflml and W 1» laa If aaaoealab

•s

INTRODUCTIOV.

Inspiration in bis prodigious development of the element of
love ; his life and that of St. Clare were henceforward eliosen
Tor sobjects as well as the life of Christ and His Mother ;
ftnd all the celebrated painters of that and the succeeding
«ge hastened to offer a tribute to his memory by adorning
with their paintings the basilic of Assisium. In that neigh*
bourhood was also to spring up the mystic school of the
Ombrla, which, in Perngino and Raphael, ( before his fall .^f
attained the highest perfection of Christian art. One would '
have said that, in his sweet and marvelloas 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 popnlar and universal as she then
did. Europe seemed then one vast manufactory of poetry,
sending out every day some fiaished 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 hare
already seen so productive, was also the period of the growth
-ftnd 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,
IVamed for tbe first time in modern idioms, prove their grow-
ing importance. Each nation found thus at its disposal u

* All that we l>iins fli rtr a rd on palntinf and general art, tnd Mpedanj on tba
lnflu«ne« of St Franola, Is established and eloqnentlf developed In M. Rfo^s Intok,
•ntltleol, Df la pHnUirn ChreZffnnt en JHntU (Christian paintln; In Italy). That
work has already effected a salutary revolation in the study and appreclatloa of m I
Mb la Frahoa and Ita^.

ivvBODiroTiev^

Iphere of activitj tU fresh for its thoogbt, wherein the
Dational geains might redeem itself at will. Prose wa^ formed
for history, and there were soon seen chronicles made for the
people, and often by themselves, taking^ their |^ce 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 primogenitnre. It was then seen td
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 XI V. And when their
works are read with the sympathy arising from a religions
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 rales of modern versification, we
ask ourselves what then has been invented by the writers of
Bucceeding 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 soiil
vbich they did not disclose, not a vein of feelmg wbk;h they
did not explore, not a fibre of the hdman heart which thoy
did not stir, not a chord of that immortal lyre from which
they drew aot forth delicious harmony.

* We oonid cite no better ezMnple than the life of St. EUsabeth by Theodorie of

I Thiiiingta; the fV«qnent qaotntions which we rihall make ft-otn it in the ootme of «mff

■arrative will give the reader some idea of what it is. Amongst the principal Lalia

historios of tliat time we must elte Saxo Qrammaticns, for the Scandinavian kinf>

I loms ; Father Ylnecttt KadhiUk, fbr Pdaod, iM. OMrdlJiil iMfiles d« Yttrr, «r tht

OriuadM^

IMTBODUOTIOV.

To begin with France ; not only had its langaage, forni i
by the bards of the preceding century, and perhaps by tha
B&rmons of St. Bernard, become a national treasure, but it
gained under St. Louis that European ascendancy which it
has never since \mi Whilst Dante's master, Brunetto Latini,
wrote his Tesoro^ n species of encyclopaedia, in French, be-
cause it was, ac?<>rd ag 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 Bossnet, opened with Yillehardouin and Joluville 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 Proyen9al 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. We
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, tb»
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. Oraal, initiated in the
preceding century by Chrestlen of Troyes, with those Romans
(Romances) whose popularity was immense. The Roman dt
Ronfevaux, as we now possess it, those of Oerard de Neven,
of Partenopex de Blots, of Bertha witJi the long foot^ of Renara

* It Ib eTCB Mid Utai his dmim of Fruiofai (FranfoU), was given Mm, Iintw4 «C
■Is Iktbcr'ft nsuok boMuss of bis grsak oommuid uf th« Frsocli laagusfk

XHTBODUOTIOV.

ie Jfontauban, of the /bur atmt of Aymon^ those transfigura-
tioM of French traditions are all of that period; as also
those of Renari and la Boatj which have longer maintained
a certain repate. More than two handred poets, whose works
naTe come down to us, floorished in that age :* one daj, per-
haps Catholics will take it into their heads to go seek iu their
works some of the most charming productions of the Chris*
tian muse, instead of believing, on the word of the sycophant
Boilean, that poetry only came into France with Malherbe.
We mnst also name amongst these poets Tbibanlt, King of
Navarre, who sang the Crosade and the Blessed Virgin with
sach pure enthusiasm, who won the praises of Daute, and,
when dying, left his heart to the poor Clares whom he had
founded at Provins ; his friend, Auboin de Sezanne, Raoul do
Coucy, whose name at least is still popular, killed at Mas*
soura, under the eyes of St. Louis ; the prior Gauthier da
Coinsy, who raised so fair a monument to Mary in his Mira
ties ; then that woman of unknown origin, but whose talentii
and national success have woe for her the honourable title of
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
Gharta, intermingled his sermons with verse, and wrote the .
first drama known by the moderns, ^he scene of which is ia
heaven, where Truth, Justice, Mercy, and Peace discuss the
fate of Adam after his fall, and are reconciled by Jesus
Christ.f We here only glance over a period when poetry

* Sm their ennmention In th« lAterary BUtory of Framoe^ t ztL tad zvll.;
Bequefort, State of Frtneh Poetry; P. Paris, l» Boman^wro Franeatt,

i Detorne, Arob.'voltgia, t xiiL Jean Bodel of Arres is regarded as the mail
dlsMngiilshed dramatie poet of that period ; his fine drama entitled Jeu ds SaiM
I Jficotatt luM been mad* Iumwb to q» by M. Oneabne Loroy, in Ua worlt Mt tte
Hritoriec

|>l»TJl09V«TI0*r

was so popular ani\0D)i*9t the French that St. Louia discUteed
not to admit to bi8 royal table minstrels, or itinerant poets,
and that those very men coald free themselves from all toll
by mean? of a song.

In Germany, tbe thirteenth century is the most luatroai
period of this admirable medieval poeti^. Bucli is tb& nnar^l*
mous opinion of the nomerous literati who l.iu\e .<»'j'jce( led frr
a time in rendering it once more popular <n that country.
For ourselves, we are deeply convinced that no poetry is
finer, none impressed with so much freshne^ of heart ^t3
thought — with enthusiasm so arrknt, with purity so sincere :
nowhere, in fliiie, did the new elemeut^ planted by C- istianity
in tii:"* haman imagination obtain a moro noble tii^imph. Would
that we co;»M depict in their true colours the exquisite emo-
tions we c"^ joyed when, in studying the i^e of Elizabeth under
every igi>8^>eot, wc opened the volumes wtiere this marvellona
beuuty fJeeps unnoticed 1 With what surprise and admiration
did we behold all that gface, refinement, melancholy, which
would seem reserved fDr the world's maturity, united to the
artless simplicity, the ardent and grave piety, of the primitive
ages \ Whilst the epic of purely Qermanic and Scandinavian
origin develops itself there in the train of the Niebelungen,*
that magnificent Iliad of the Germanic tribes, the doable
French and Breton oyde, of wbich we have spoken above,
finds sublime interpreters there in poets who well knew how,
while preserving the subject ma^tter of foreign traditions, to
■tamp their woito with incontestible nationality. Their names
an 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-
oach, gave to his country an admirable version of the Parceval,

* This Mtekmted' poMi, M w
Htlrteenth centoiy.

or«M

laTBODUOTIOV.

moat lugtfoai

and tue onlj one that is oow extant of the Tiiurti, tkat
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, Qodefroi of
Strasburg published the Tristan, wherein are summed up the
ideas of the chivalric f^es on love, together with the fairest
legends of the Round Table ; and Hartmonn de I'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 Q-erman soil. The ignorant and pedantic criticism of
the unbelieving ages has not been able to efface the national
remembrance of that brilliant and numerous phalanx of love*
singers {Minnesoenger)^ which came forth between 1180 and
1250 from the ranks of German chivalry, having at its head,
in rankj the Emperor Henry YI., but in genius, Walter de
Yogelweide, 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, Eealous and

* Sneh are Ura lhgalol», \iy WMt 4e OnrenlMrg; 4 tmmI of SIttalwthY gnmili
Aither, and who Mefl!mp«nt«<1 ber hosband to the Orinadm; OwiUditme fOrmnffti,
wliich was asked of Wolfram d'EscIienbaeh by Eliiabcth's father>ln-Uw; FlotmH
BUmchAfleur, by Connul de Fleeke ; the ChanJt d« Roland^ by the prieat Cojirad ;
BarUuMH H Jwiiphat, by Reddpfa de Hehenens, Ae.

t The principal cullection of their works is In the Boyal library in Paria, In tk*
■unascript called dt MdnMne. It contains th« poems of otie hundred and ttiH{|r>
«to peats. ProfcMor Hagan, ef B^i\ln^ haa Jul pobUahed aa asMlkBt edMaa ol Ik
with soma most valuable addiUona.

XHTftODDCTIOir.

watchful patriotism, enthusiastic love for holy things ; for th«
Crusade, in which he had hhnself fought ; and, above all, for
the Virgin-Mother, whose mercy and whose mortal dolours he
Bang with unequalled tenderness. We clearly see that, in
him, it wan not only human love, but also celestial lore with
all its treasures which won for him and his confreres their title
of love-singers. Mary, everywhere the Queen of Cliristiaii
|)oetry, was especially so in Germany; and we cannot help
naming amongst those who have offered her the purest in-
cense of «ong, 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 dee 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 Wir
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. Al^^honsus the Learned, son
of St. Ferdinand, who merited, long before Francis I., the
title of father of letters — a historian and a philosopher, waa
also a poet ; there are but few Spanish verses more ancient
than his hymns to the Virgin, and his touching account of hia
father's miraeulous cure, written in the Gallician language.
Denis I., King of Portugal, is the first known poet of bii

IlTTROOUCTIOir.

kingdom. .In Spain began, with the moet lively energy, that
admirable effosion of Christian splendour, which was there
Iccpt np much longer than in any other conntry, nor began to
wane till after Calderon. Whilst legendary poetry shed its
mild radiance in the works of the Benedictine Gonzalo de
Bercoo, a poet who was truly inspired by Mary and the
Saints of his nation, we see the Spanish epic making itt
appearance in thnse 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, and 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 jf 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.^ In Pisa and Sienna, it is more grave,
more solemn, as we see by the fine monuments which thofie

* Those of the Cidy regnrded m the most eneient, eonid not have been eompoaed
oeftrethe thirteenth century, eooording to the best Judges,

t Any one who supposes that Italian poetry began with Dante, would do well ta
■ee the collection entitled Poeti dtl primo aseoto, that is to My, of the thirteentk
MBtury, whieh oootains some masterpleees of the poetic art.

X Sueb, at least, is the opiaion of Daate, D0 Vulg. JBog^ I, If ; tad of

INTROOOOTIOV.

Cities have preferred. Id Plorence ftnd the n«ighl)onriBf
citiefl it is tender, ubundaut, pious — worthy in all respects of
its birtbplnce.* Tliey were indeed a \t^\on of poets, wiiose
chiefs were tlie Emperor Frederick II., tii'e Icinp Euzio and
Mainfroy, his sons, and his Chancellor, Peter de Viij^iies ;
then Goittone d'Arezzo, a poet so profound, and sometimes
so eloquent, and so touching, warmly praised by Petrarch and
imituted by him; finally, Guido Guinicelli, whom Dante uiv-
liesitatingly proclaimed as his master. But nil these were
preceded and surpasseii by St. Francis of AKKisium ;t his
influence was to enliven art, his example to inflame poets.
While reforming the world, God permitted him to use the
first of tliat poetry which was to bring forth Dante aud 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 tlien both together went along the highways, singing to
the people those new hymns, saying that they were God's min-
strels, 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
veroaonlar tongue, and so passionately that ^e himself appre*
headed lest he might be accused of folly.

1^0, never did that love, which was, as we have seen, fail;
whole life, send forth a cry so enthusiastic, so tru)y celestial^
BO wholly detached from the earth ; hence it is that succeed-
ing ages have not only failed to equal it, but even to under-

* Wfl must enpeciftlly mentton th« oharining strains of Boti^o d*01trHr&o,(t24(Qk ,
^f. tfe Ibund in Crescimbeni and the Rime aniiehe.

t W« muat here ntfer to the floe work of M. Gorres, entitled St. FrattfoU d^Aspt
alse Troubadour, tmnslated into the European Jtevimo of 1S8S. Tiiere are m%
IMm vtrsfls wboM date wc bv Used with oortaiAty before ihos« of 8U Fl^eU
W« hmw alNBdj ipokea ni the beMttlfol poemi of St. Bonft^ttatai^

|JITROOVGIiai|.

Oltrwno (124(0k ,

itand It. HU fiirooai canticle to h» broihtr iht mn U bettar
known ; it was comi)o«c>d uitcr nn ecstocy wherein he had
received the oertointy of his salvation. Scarcely hail it et-*
caped from his heart when he goes out to sing it in the strcels
of A^'^iHium, where the Bishop and the mttKistrate wore in
o\^\ warfare. But at the accents of that divine lyre, hatred
wixs cxtiugnished in all hearts, enemies shed tears as they eiB"
brae^d each other, and concord reappeared at the cull of
poitry and sanctity.

Finally, the highest and fairest branch of poetry, the
littirgy, produced in that age some of its most popular master-
pieces, and if St. Thomas of Aquinas gives it \e Lauda Sion,
and all the admirable office of the Blessed Sacrament, it is a
disciple of St. Francis — Thomas de Cclano— who leaves ns
the Dies IrcB^ 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 bb-
premc dignity, making it his choice and his protection, and
giving it a new influence over the things of heayen and earth;
invested with that supernatural life of Christif^nity which has
so often conferred spiritaal sovereignty on the lowest of its
childrea ; regarded by his contemporaries a^ the closest imi-
tator of Christ ; enervated during his whole lifb with divine
love; and by the all-powerful virtue of that Iotc, a poet, ao
uctor, a lawgiver, a conqueror.

The other a layman, a knight, a pilgrim, a cmsader, •
kiag crowned with the first Ohristiaa diadem, brave even le

iifTmoDUOTrov.

ruhncsR, m willinp^ to ri^k his life as to ber*^ }i\» ^nad befoft
Ood ; a lover of danger, of hnmiliation, of p*.>^auce; the inde-
fatigable champion of jnstice, of the weak and the opprcwcd;
the sublime personification of Christian chiralrj in all Its
purity, nnd of true royalty in all its august grnndenr. Both
grerdy for martyrdom, and for sacrifice ; both continually
Intent on the salvation of their neighl)oar; both marked with
the cross of Christ. Francis in the glorious wounds which he
had in common with the crucified ; and Louis in that inmott
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 oc
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 tiiat he there found a worthy snccejsor of St
Francis in one of his chosen disciples, brother ^gidins. The
account of their meeting is too characteristic of the age
whereof we treat, for us to omit giving it a place. St. Lonis
being come, then, from Assisium to the Convent of Peronsa,
where iBgidius 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 'ithoot exchanging
a single word. At length they separated, arose and went
tLeir 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 .^gidius. " How,** said
they, " couldst thou have been so rude, as not to speak a sin-
gle word to such a holy prince, he coming all the way from
France on purpose to see thee ?" " Ah I my beloved bretb*
ren,'' replied the holy man, " be not surprised that neither ht

iJlVMODVOflOir.

in head befort

tioi I ^oaM speuk; for, irhiliit we embraced each other, tho
Ugb« vf divine wiiklom levealeJ his heart to me and mine to
liim; aiid tlius, looking into each othcr^s heart, we knew each
other fur tiettor than if we had spoken, and witli mucli greatei
vouMolatiou th.iii if we had given Tent to our feelingH in words,
•o incapal)ie is the human tongue of expressing the secret
uiyHteries of Qod I" A touching and an admirable Ryuit)ol
of tltat Hccret intelligence, of that victorious harmony which
then united lofty and holy souls, as a sublime and eterual
compact.

It may also be said that those two great sonls meet and
are completely united in that of one woman— St. Elizabeth —
whose name has already ooourred so often in this work. That
burning love of poverty which inflamed the seraph of A»>
sisiuiu, 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 Qermany, recognises
him as her model and her father. That boundless sympathy
for the Passion of a God made man, which sent St. Louis,
Imrefoot, at twenty-four, to visit the holy Crowu 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 : all that is found again in the life of St.
Elizabeth, who was no less his sister by feeling and by syiD-
pa thy, than by their common engagement under the role of
St. Francis.

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

IVTft JDVOTIOH.

the helm of gorenimeiit in sereral large states,* and thai
fresh homage was daily offered to them both in pablic and
private life. This was the inevitable consequence of that de-
Totion 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 Qod wus a
womsni."f How, in fact, could kings and nationg constantly
take her for mediatrix between her Sou 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 venerdtion to the sex whose representative she was
with God, as also its most perfect type ? Since woman was
80 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 was 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 Hfe, 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 wlien she expired on the
hospital pallet, which she chose for her death-bed, there are
two Tery distinct parts, if not in her character, at least in her
exterior life. Tlie first is all chivalric, all poetic, calculated
as muoh to enchain the imagination as to inspire piety. From

* BIs&Qhe of Oftstn*; ImWIIa de la MaMh«, who eontrollod tbo ontlM poliej of
King John Lack-land, her husbanl : Jan*, Countesa of Flanders, who clalmad Um
Clfht of assintin^ as a poor of France, at the consecration of St. Looilw

t JVniiMntofrt * poem 9f the thirtMath eontuix.

IHTRODUOTIOir.

th(; interior of Hungry, tliat land half nnknotm, half east-
frn, — the frontier of Christendom, which presented to the
modiseval ages a grand and mjsterions aspect,* she arrivei
at the Conrt of Thuringia, tne most brilliant and the most
poetical in all Germany. Daring her childhood, her proco
clous virtue is overlooked, her piety despised ; some were for >
sending her back disgracefally to her father ; bat her be-
trothed remains ever falthfal 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. Daring 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 Crusado,
the supreme duty of freeing the Holy Sepulchre, draws away
her young husband after seven years of the most tender union;
he 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; ahe follows and

• !%« fiuBons Berth* the Good, wifs of Pepin, and mother of Oharieim«ne, the
principal heroine of the cycle of the Cerlovingian epioe, wm alao iao^ter of a king
9l Hungary.

INTRODUCTION.

accompanies him far beyond the confines of their country; she
cannot tear herself from his arms. lu the anguish which
rends her lieart at this parting, and again when she hears of
the untimely death of her beloved husband, we behold all the
energy and tenderness of that young heart ; precious 'ind
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 ; slie 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 ! 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 por.sessions, 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 Ihem
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 of her 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.

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 tlie 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
sncoession, 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
licr by miracles before he calls lier 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
tlie most fragrant perfume of charity, and which transformed
lier entire life into that heavenly childishness to which Jesua
Las 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
tlie 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 uer 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, with
a thousand incidents which throw light on the innermost recesses
of that pure and artless soul. We are thns enabled, at the
distance of six centuries, to give an account of that blessed
life, with all the familiar and minute details which w« little
expect to find save in memoirs recently written — and with

IVTK0DV0T10V.

cirecmstftnces so poetic, we would ftlmosi say so romantio—
that we can scarcely help rcgardiDi^ them at first as the resnlts
of nn excited imagination taktag [dcasure in embcHixhing with
all itti charois a heroine of romance. And yrt the historical
authenticity of most of these details camiot be suspected,
l)eiMg collected at the same time as her miracles, and verified
by solemn investigations immediately after her death, and
registered by grave hlstortaus in the national and coBtem*
poraneoiis 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 i)Ower 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-^o poetical and, at the same
time, so edifying— -certified by history, but it hos received an
otherwise high sanction; it has been invested with a splendour
before which the mere products of imaginition, worldly re-
nown, and the popidarity 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 has been
glorified by tho homage of the Christian world. It has re-
ceived tliat popularity of prayer, the only one that is eternal,
universal^— the on?y one that is decreed at once by the learned
and the rich — by the poor, the wretched, the ignorant*— by
that immense muss of mankind who have neither time nor
inclination to busy thetnaelves with human glories. And for
those who are infiueneed by imagination, what happiness to
feel that so much poetry, so many charming incidents, illoa-
trative of all that is freshest and purest in the human beait,
may he remembered, extolled — ^not, indeed, in the pages of a
poiaanc«. or on the boards of a theatre, but under the Taulted

l«TS0»00f lOV.

roofs of oar churches^ at the foot of the holj altars, in the
effusion of the Christian soul before its God!

It may be that, blinded by that inYolontnry partiality
which we feel for that which has been the object of a study
and an attachment of several yearti, we exagg«ratf^ >i«e beauty
and the im{)0Ft8>nce of our snbjeet. We doubt iiot that, even
apart from aU the inaperfection of our work, intiny may find
out tlMtt an age so remote has nothing in coiAmon with this
of ours; that this biography so minute, that this description
of customs so long exploded can present no profitable and
positive result to the religions 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 streilgth engendered by faith — with the revela-
tion of tlie most profound mysteries of Christian iuitiation.
He then asked himself whether he had a right to underiake
such a work; whether the sublime triumphs of religion were
not to be reserved for writers who could do honour to religio*,
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 be accomplished
a task which seems so unsuited to his weakness, his age, and
his lay character.

Nevertheless, after long hesitation, he yielded to the im-
pulsive idea of giving son>e connection to studies so protraeted
and so conscientious, together with the desire ci presenting
to the friends of religion and of historical truth the faithful
and complete pktore of the life of a saint of former days —
of one of those beings who summed up within themselves all
tho Ai'th and all the pore affectioae of the Christian ages; lo

1:1

tVTHODUOTTOV.

paint them, as mach as possible, in the hoes of their time,
and to show them in all the splendour of that perfect beaoty
wherewith they presented themselves to the minds oi men in
the middle ages.

We are well aware that, to reproduce such a life in all its
Integrity, it is necessary to place ourselves face to face with a
whole order of facts and of ideas long since struck with repro-
bation by the vagne religiosity of latter times, and which a
timorous though sincere piety has too often excluded from
religious history. We allude to the supernatural phenomena
60 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. These we have endeavoured to reproduce with the
same scrupulous exactness which we have used in all the rest
of the narrative. The very thought of omitting, or even of
extenuating them, — interpreting them with prudent modera-
tion, would have been revolting to us. It would have ap-
peared to us a sacrilege 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 th<^se miracles are
related by the same authors, established by t. e same author-
ity, as are all the other events of our biography. Nor could
we well have fixed any rule whereby to admit their veracity
m some cases and reject it in others ; in short, it would have
bten nothing bettr i 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
victory over our own weak reason ; for nothing appeared to m
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 secur«

INTRODUOTIOH.

«Dd enhance the triumph of the still higher laws of the moral
and religions order. Is it not both sweet and easy to con-
ceive how soals like those of St. Elizabeth and her contempo*
rnries, exalted by faith and humility far above the cold rea-
Bcning of this world, pnrified by every sacrifice and every
virtue, accastomed to live beforehand in heaven, presented to
the goodness 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
fumiliar intervention of tliat Almighty power rejected ani
denied by the insensate pride of our days !

Hence it is with a mixture of love and respect that w<3
have long studied those innumerable traditions of faithful
g-cneratious, 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 cnn bv
no means be dissolved. But even if we had not the happi<
ness of believing with entire simplicity in the wondei-s 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 paerile
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
tliey believed with so much fervour, loved with so mnch con-
stiincy. Far from that: we will freely confess that we have often
found in them both help and consolation, and in this we are
not alo le; for if they are everywhere despised by people who
call themselves leanied and enlightened, there are still places
where these sweet traditions have remained dear to the poof
and the simple. We have found them cherished in Ireland,
in 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 firom their

I':

IVTRODUOTIOir.

ejef ; they hafe still an altar in the fairest of all t^mples-^
the hearts of the people. We will even venture to say that
■omething 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
aad 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 ; Elieabeth, 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 ii3 not the place to discuss that grave question df
the credence due to the miracles in the lives of the Saints ; it
fniffices 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 lUl that Oatho-
Sics believed of her, and giving an acconnt of the glory and
the influence which her miracles have obtained for her amongst
the faithful. In all mediaeval study, the implicit faith of the
people, the unanimity of public opinion, give, to the popalar
traditions inspired by religion, a force wh'ch 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 diffienU to deny that
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 beautyi Even were we
forced to regard these legends but as the Christian mythic
Im^y, according to the contemptaoos exprMiioa of the great

IlfTRODUOTItfV.

pliilosopherB of our days, still we should find in them a sourot
of )>oetry infinitely BicM'e pure, abundant, and origioaii, than tbo
worn-out mythology <^ Olympus. But how can wo b« sur*
prised that they hare been so long refused ail right to poetio
influence ? Tho idolatrous generations who had com^eutrated
Mil their enthusiasni on the monttuients and institutions of pa*
l^^tinisra, and tho imploaa generations who hare digniAed with
tho name of poetry the filthy effosiioiis of the last ocntury,
could neither of them give eren a name to that exquisite fVuit
of Catholic faith; t^ey could offer it only one kind of homage^
viz. that of scoffing aud insuH, — this they have done.

In a purely hifi4;orical 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, tliey are, at least, quite as powerful, and ha?«
exercised a flar greater power over the passions and morals of
the people than fafHs the romt inoontestible for human reason.
On this account they assuredly merit the respect and atteo*
tion of every serious historian and profound critic.

So it ought to be with every man who is interested in th«
supremacy of spiritualism in the progress of the human race ;
who places the worship of moral beauty above the exclosivo
domination of material interests and inelinatiwis. For it muni
not be forgotten that, at the basis of all beliefs, even the most
puerile, and superstitions the most absurd that have prerailed
at any time amongst Christian people, there was always ft
formal recognition of supernatural power, a generous declara*
tion in favour of the dignity of mau-^flallen indeed— but nol
irretrievably. Everywhere and olways there was stamped on
tliese popular convictions the victory of mind over matter, of
tlu^ invisibip over the visible, of the IniioecMit glory of mao
ovir his misfortunii, of the primitive purity of nature over 04
corruption. The most tiH fling ditholio hpnd has gained
more hearts to those inmurtti (ruths tlioa alt ine disaorta^

.14.1

IHTRODUCTIOV.

tions of philoftophcni. It is always the sentiment of timt i;f\v-
rious sympathy between the Creator and the crcaturif, l»c-
Iwoen heaven ind earth, which beams upon us througli tite
mists of »ges ; but whilst pagan antiquity sta^nmered out this
idea, giving its gods all the vices of humanity, Christian ngos
here pri)claimed it, elevatinj; humanity and the world regene-
rated by faith, to the very height of heaven.

In the ages of which we speak, such apology as these
would have been superfluous. No one in Christ .,1 society
doubted the tcuth and the ineffable sweetness of these pions
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 tltronged,
with indefatigable tenderness, to lay the flowers of their mir^d
and their imagination before those witnesses of eternal truth.
They had already received the palm of victory ; those who
vere still doing battle delighted to congratulate them, and
to lenrn from them how to conquer. Ineffable affections, salu-
tary coiiiicrtions, 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 liglit
From the king and the pontiff down to the poorest artisan,
each had a special thoaglit 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
iog to the charge, speedily turned the scale of victory. The

IKTROOVCTIOll

•1

kiii'^^lits and nobleo had for their patrons St. Michael and St
(icufge ; for their patroncHSoei, St. Catharine and St. Mar*
u'iiret ; and if they hap|)ened to die as prisoners and martyn
fc the faith, they invoked St. Agues, who had bent lier young
and virginal head beneath the axe. The labourer saw in the
(Jliurches the image of St. Isidore with his pIou<;h, and of St.
Nothbarga, the poor Tyrolesc servant, with her sickle. The
(MK)r, in general, — the lowly and tl hard-working, met at
every step that gigantic St. Chri' - ' ending under the

weight of the child Jesus, and fuui itc model of thai

hard life of toil whose harvest i. Qerraany was

peculiarly fertile in such pious practice , as we now clearly
perceive while studying its pure and artless spirit, so totally
void of the sarcasm, the scoffing sneer which blights all
poetry — while studying its language, so rich and so expres-
sive. It would be an endless task to specify all the inno-
tnerable bonds which thus connected heaven and earth ; to
ptMietrate 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 mundano disappointments. Men thu^
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 sweet
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 aflfection, which
bonnd to heaven the hearts of the men of those times, met
and settled down on one supreme image. All these pions
traditions, some local, others personal, were eclipsed and en*
grossed by those which the entire world told of Mary. Qaeei

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of th« enrth oi well as of heaven, whilst efcfy brow and every
b<Nii . bowed down before her, erery mind was inspired by
her glory ; whilst the earth was eorered with sanctuaries and
cathedrals in her hononr, the imagination of those poetic
generations never ceased to diacover some new perflRotioii,
some new charm, in the midst of that supreme beauty. Bach
day brought forth same more marrettous legend, some new
ornament which the gratitude of the world oftred to her
who had re-opened the gates of heaven, who had replenished
ttie ranks of the Angels, who had indemnified man for the sin
df Eve-^the humble " handmaid,'' crowned by God with tha
dhidem which Michael Wrested ttotb. Lucifer wlien <ia8ting him
into the depths of hell. "Thou mdst indeed hear us,'' said
one with exquisite simplicity, "for we have so much happiness
in honouring thee." "A<h t" cri«s Walter Von de Vogelweide,
"let us ever praise that sweet Tliigin, to whom her Bon can
refuise nothing. This is our supreme consolation : in heaven
ihe does whatever ihe wiifhes V* And fell of anWavering
confidence in the object of 80 much love, eonvhiced of her
maternal vigilance, Christendom referred to her all its troublM
and all its dangers, and reposed in that eonfiidende, according
to the beautiful idea of a poet of Blfzabeth^s tim^.

In the spirit Of those ages, wherein there was so great an
abundance of faith and love, two Hvers had inundated tha
world ; it had not only been redeemed by the blood Of Jesus*
It had been also purified by the mtlk ot Mary-^by that roitk
Which had been the nonrishment of God on earth, and which
reminded Him of heaven ; it had hicessanl tieiBd of both ;
and, in the words of a pious monk who wrote the li<e of
Sili2abeth before us, "All are entitled 16 entcfr the family of
Christ, whan they make a proper use df the blood of their
Redeemer and their Father, and of the milk of the sacred
?irg!A, their mother ; yes, of that adohible bktod whidh en-
iMffages the mari^ and aooChei their tomnBii a a -» a «

fVYftoi^ocrtos.

•nd of tbat tirgioil milk whidi iwectena 1^ bitternett of our
cop by appeftSiDg the wrsth of Ood.** And again, we nnut
say, the enthasiasm of this fiKal tenderneaa was not enougk
for Ihose lols so defoat towards the Yirghii Motber. They
reqaired a sentiment more tender, if possible, more ftimiKar,
more enconraging. Hie sweetest and the poreirt that man can
oonceiTe. After ali, had not Mary been a mere mortal, n
weak woman, acquainted with all the miseries of life ; who
had endured calamny, and exile, and cold, and hunger f Ah I
it was more than a mother ; it was a sister that Ohristlan
people loved and cherished in ber I Hence she was con-
Btantlrjraplored to remember that fraternity so glorious for
the einled race ; hence, too, a great Smnt, tbe most ardent
of her votaries, hesitated not to invoke her tbns : " O Mary,**
said he, " we beseecn thee, «8 Abraham besonght Sara in the
land of Sgypt * ♦ ♦ ♦ o Mairyl— O our Sara I jay thai
thou art our sister, so that for thy eake God may look favour*
ably on us, and that, tiiroagh thee, our Boale may live in God I
Say it, then, our beloved Sarat My that thou art our sister,
and because of our having such a sister, the Egyptians — ^tbait
ig to eay, the devil»^will be afraid of us ; because, of such
a sister, the angels will stand in battle by our side ; and the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost will bave mercy on ua
on aecount of our sister."

It was thus that they loved Mary — fheee <0hri6tianB of
former di^. Bat when their love had efn^brticed heaven %nA
its queen, nnd all its Messed inhabitants, 'it descended again
to the earth to people and love it in ite turn. The earth
which had been assigned for their dwelling — the earth, that
bcantilb! creation of God — ^became also the object of their
fertile solicitude, of their ingenuous affectioB* Men who were
then called learned, and perhaps Justly, studied nature with
the scmpolons care wherewith Christians ought to stody iba
works of God ; but th^-oonld not thinit of regaar^ng it WHk

IVTBODUOTIOV.

bodj withoot 8Q|)erior life ; they ever sought ia it mjsterioai
relatioQS with the daties and religious belief of man ramomed
by his God ; they saw in the habits of auimalSf in the phe-
nomena of plants, in the singing of birds, in the virtnes of
precious stones, so many symbols of trnth consecrated by
faith.* Pedantic nomenclatures had not yet invaded anl
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 Millcy Way
of Juno, the road which conducted his brethren to the pll*
grimage 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 languagewhich
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 render airer and dearer to the
people. Every minute detail of i^e garments which she wore
on earth was represented by some flower more graceful than
the others ; these were es relics scattered everywhere, and
incessantly renewed. The great lights of our days have
thought it better to replace her sweet memory by that of

* Tb* itady of lUktura, andm tills point of tIow, wim very common f ■ tho ttilr*
tNKih eentdrj, m wo no bj tho SptatUum itaktraU of Yineent do BemTai% mi
ft VMfc Bumbor of other woricn

t LIUmm fine maoHta, rota ttms tptnia^jhtjlontm^ pbriMt ftom the aaolont
ntnifjr of tho Ohnfoh, • tbootud timos ropeatod by poets of all oogntries in tho
twottUi nod thtrtoonth ooatariso. Vaifa mtm ro$a<, my, abo^ St AlfAonni* 4s
LyniMl is hlft Otttowatiitt to mmw ^U Jfiwin MMMssfaMk

IV1K0DV0TI01I.

Tenns.* Sytfipatlij was accounted miilaal ; tlie eartfi owed
gratitade for that aflpociation in the religion of man. People
went, on Obristmas night, to announce to the forest-trees thai
Christ was come : Aperiaiur terra tt germinai Saivatorem.
Bat the earth, in retam, was to give roses and anemones in
the place where man shed his Mood, and Jlies 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 nnited
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 sonl, 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 wa»
one vast kingdom of love, and also of science ; tor all had its
reason, and its reason in faith. Like those burning rays
which shot Arom the wounds of Christ, and impressed the
sacred stigma on the limbs of Francis of Assisium, eves so
did the beams fiom the heart of the Christian race, of simple
bnd fiuthful man, stamp on every particle of nature the remem-
brance of heaven, the imprint of Christ, the seal of love.

Tes, the world was, as it were, an immense volume wherein
fifty generations inscribed daring twelve centuries their faith,
their emotions, their dreams, with infinite tenderness and pai-
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*
Bals and great anthem-books of the old cathedrals, beside the
\

* For Instanoe, the Sowar wbteh la ■ortpMn tongMWM odM th* Wir§im*9
tho«, has been named Oi/pripedium Calc4olu9. A UMOMnd other teataneoe eooM
be given of the gross Diateriallsm whieh disUngnldiee tbeM bwtheahb
Btti Ibit la eaUed tko^fnfnM «r MtMWl

imTM^^V^JfWi

farillUnl pAiottegi which porftny with hnplimtiM ftt
w«nii snd m pfafooad (h« great acetiet of tk^ life of Ohtiil
Mid of the laiotif tho test of the laws of Ood and of Hie
dlnoe Word was eeen snnoanded by all tho beaatiet Of
oAtare ; all animated beiap were there broaght together to
siog the ptaieee of the Lord, and aagels eaiae forth for that
porpoee from the eop of every diftmei. Thia woe the Ze^ra<
the reading of the poor and the aimple, the Ooepel adapted
for tiieir uie, Biblia pauperum/ Their inuocent eyes diaoor-
ered therein a. thoasaod beanties the sense of which it now
for ever lost. Heaven and earth appeared therein peopled
with the most exquisite skill Well might th^ sing with sfaif
eerily of heart, PUni »uui msU et krm gUmA tua — ^Heatvea
and earth are fcU of Thy glory 1

Who can calculate how impoverished life is since thenif
, Who thinks aow-iniayB of the imagination ot the poer^ the
heart of the ignosant 7

Oht t^ world was then wrapt, up by faith, as it were^ in
a. beneficent veil which oonceakd idl earthly wonndSi and ho*
came transparent for the splendoac of heaven. Now,, it, is
otherwise ^ tha earth is aU nakad,^ heaven is aU veiled.
. To dotiiG the world; m this consoiiHg vestare, il reqsuiid
the complete and ooceserved nnton of the two principles which
were. so wonderfully nnited in EliEabeth and her agei aimt>li-
cil^ and ikith. Now^ as every one kaows and says; tbey hara
disappeared from the maas of society ; the former, eqMoiai}y,
has been eompletely eitiipated», not only from pnbKe Jife^ but
alao from poetry, from private and domestic life, from> ttie
few asylums where the other has remained. It was not witii-
ont coDBommate MSX that the atheistic science and impioas
philosophy of modern times pronounced their divorce before
condemaiag them* to die. When once their holy and sweet
aifiance had been broken up, those two celestial sisters could
only meet in some few obsciira sonli^ amongst soma soattend

gnd oigleeled people; ud Uws tkty wiUoad iapArtlilj to
d«atli.

It is uDneeim!:,r7 to ny, bowefw, that this dtolh wm
onlj apptrent — only exile. They kept in the beeoM of the
imperishable Cbarch, the cratie whence tbey weat forth to
people aad decorate the werU. All nea may find them
there ; all men nay likewise trace their coarse by the iia-
mortal relicB which they scattered as they went^ and which
Dooe hare yet succeeded in annihilating. Their number is so
great, their besnty so striking, that one might be tempted to
believe that God had designedly permitted all the elterior
charms of Catholicity to fall a moment into obliyion, so ai
that those who remained feithfal to it throogh all the proba-
tions of modem times might have the ineffable happiaess of
finding them ont and revealing them anew.

There, then, lies a whole world to regain for history and
^try. Even piety will find new treasures in it. Let none
reproach us with stirring vBp ashes for ever extinguished, or
searching amid hreparable ruins; that which would be trot
of human institutions has no application to the sul^ect before
as — at least, as Catholics believe—- for, if it be true that the
Church is undying, it follows that nothing that her hand has
ODce 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 lifSfc. If it has once been so, it is in vain that the
elottds darken around, that the snows of winter are heaped
above it ; it is always time to dig ont the root, to shake off
lome modem dost, to break asonder some factitious bonds, to
repkint it in some genial soil, aad restore to the iower the
htoom akid the perfume of former dayrn

We should not like to have it inferrw^, from the ideas

which we have pat forward, that we are hind admirers o2

the middle •^m^ thiit we ale ki (beni «very tiling admirably
5

V I

•8 ISTftOlVOTIOW.

•Dfiable tnd irreproachftble, and that, in oor own age, wt
consider the nationi wholly incurable. Far be it from ns to
waste onr energies in Tain regrets and our sight in useless
tears over the grave of generations passed awajr. We know
tliat the Son of God died on the cross to save humanity, not
for fi?e or six centuries, but for the whole period of the
world's existence. We think not that the Word of Qod has
failed or that his arm is shortened. The mission of pure man
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 firom those that have
replaced them. We preach not, then, either the barren con-
temptation of the past, or a contempt for and base desettion
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 faithfbl 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 bis fathers ; so it is permitted us, whom our faith
renders as exiles amid modem 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 firom the remembrance of their
ftmggles and their victories.

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

ffVTftODirOTIOW.

of erfl waf eferjwhere met bj an energy of good which seemed
to iucreaie bj being provoked to the combat, and by which ft
was incessantly and manifeatly overcome. Thia glorioas re-
sistance had its origin in the force of convictions which were
rrcognised in their inflaence over the entire life ; to say thai
this force has not diminished according ai faith and religions
practice have departed fh>m sonls, wonld assuredly be In con-
tradiction to the experience of history and the world's memory
We are far from dispnting 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 ?♦♦*♦! only fear that in
talcing 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 conbuience,
the heart, were sound, pure, untainted, freb trim that fright-
ful inward disease by which they are now gnawvd. Each one
knew what he had to believe, what he might learn, what ne
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 huve again succeeded in paganising. Misfortune,
poverty, oppression, which are now no more extirpated than
they formerly were, stood not up before the man of thosa
times as a dread fatality of which he was the innocent victim.
He sufiTered from them, but he understood them : he might

}icm.

be oTtnrbeliDed bj tbem, but be nerer deepi^'ted ; for
•till romalned to bim, and man coald laterrkpi none of tbe
mcaiiB of comnnnicatioo between the prison of his body aad
the home of bis soul. There was a sound and robust ntoral
health which nentraiiied all the diseases of the social body,
opposiug to them an all-powerful antidote, — a positife, a oni*
versal, a perpetual consolation— faith. That foith which had
penetrated the world, wbioh dahued all men without excep-
tion, which had infused itself into all the pores of societj like
a beneficent sap, offering to all infirmities a simple and a9
effectual remedj, the same for all, within reach of all, ande^
flood by all, accepted by alL

Now, the evil is still there ; it Is not only presert, bat
known, studied, analysed with extreme care ; its dissection
would be perfect, its autopsy exact ; bat where are the reme-
dies to prevent that vast body from becoming a corpse ? Its
new leeches have spent lour hundred years in drying it up, in
tucking out that divine and salutary sap which conatitnted 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 bad a awocd ever ready to avenge their wrongs^ s
balm to heal all their wounds, they havd seen loaded with
chains ; the wreath of flowers has been Ux-n from her brow,
and soaked in the acid of tmsom till every leaf fell off, withered
and lost Philosophy, deq^iotism and anarehy led her captive
before men loading her with insult axid contumely ; then they
ehut her up in a dungeon which thoy called hor tomb, and »t
its door all three keipt watch^

And yet she has left in the world a void which nothing
av^r can fill; not only is it that idl faithful hearts deplore ber
misfortunes; that every sopl that is not yet contaminated
^h$ ftf^r a pqrer «ir tj^ t^t pf th^ world which her i|^

ivrmouuvtioVf

MDM Ui BMdt pestiferooi ; tliat aII thoM who b«f e not yel
Lost tht Motimciii of their dignity aad of thtir immorUU on*
gin demand to be brooght bttck to her fold ; bat, abof e all,
thoee aflUoted ■oaU, who leek eferjrwhere, bat In ?ain, a
remedy for their aorrowi, an explanation of their dreary lo^
who find nowhere anght aa? e the empty and moaraful pUot
of ancient faith, theie who will not and cannot be consoled,

Well 1 wa firmly beliefe that a day will come when ho-
manity will aeek to emerge from the deaert which haa been
made aroond her; she will ask for the songs that soothed her
childhood, she will sigh to breathe again the perfumes of her
yoath, 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 thart mother's prison
shall be broken by the shook of so many soflering souls ; and
she will go forth fairer, stronger, more benign than ever.
8he will no longer wear the fresh and simple beanty 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, la
h(T eyes shall be seen the traces of tears, and on her brow the
dc>ep farrows made by sniEering ; die will only appear more
worthy the homage and adoratkm of those who have soifered
like herselt

She will resome her new and glorioos coarse, the end
wliereof is only known to Qod ; bat 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 faitV
less world calls her decay ; amidst the darkness which thai
world gathers around them, they will neither be daaded Mf

IVTBODVOTIOV.

!od utnj by Mj of the Mm meteon of tlie glooiiij nlgbt
Culm and confident, they reoiain with their eyes fixed ii
ptfHulfaft hope on that etenul Eut which nerer ceaaee to
•kine for them, and where generations, leated in the shadow
of death, shall also one day behold the only tme and lacrcd
Bon ready to orerpower with hli triumphant iplendoar the
ingratitude of men.

In conclasion, far be it from na to attempt iof?ing what is
csHed " the problem of the age,* or gfving a key to all the
conflicting intelligence of oor days. Our ideas are not so am-
bttioos. We are rather of opinion that all sach presnmptaoni
projects are stmck with radical sterility. All the vast and
most progpressiye 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 nerer come under these categories. The great ma-
jority of men are suiTcring, and suffering from moral as well
as physical evils. Man's first bread is g^ef, and his first
want is consolation. Now, which of these systems has ever
consoled an afBicted 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 us 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 b
the faith a book differing in its subject and in its form from
the spirit of the age in which we live. But simplicity, h nmli

IVTBODUOTIOV.

lot

itjr and charit/, whose wooden we are abooi to relate, art,
liku the God who inipirca them, abofe all timet and placet.
We oiil/ ask that thia work may bear to some simple or tor*
rowful souls a reflection of the sweet emotiont wnlch we baft
enjoyed while writing itl May it Mccud to the Ettmtl
Throne as an hamble and timid spark from that did Ctlfcoll
flame which it not yet extinct in all hcartt I
Mat In, ISIt,

.S'te'

ST. ELIZABETH, OF HUNGART, ^

LDXT0HSS3 OF THXTRINQIA

OHAPTBR L

now DUKB HXRMAVIT REfCRnO) Hff THUROrOIibi HID KIKO AHDRI W n
nuNOABY, AND HOW THB DEAB 8T. BLIZABBtB WAS BOB» At
PRBSBOOBa, AHD WAS BBOUVBT TO BBBMACft

Qaaal itelk nutiitlM In medio iwbnia.— Sedat. L i

'* Etlttfteth tat fln« d'ang nobto roy, et tat aobto da Hgnaga; mats alia Ait flm
noble par fey at rallgloii; at m traa noble Ngna* alia I'annoblit par azampla; ala
I'dsdairohtt per mirado; aUa rambaUtt par grao* da aaiatiti.**— «/iHM Xav^f^ Amu*
de Ifaimvi, L xItI.

Amongst the princes who reigned in Germany at the com-
niencement of the thirteenth isentnry, there was not one more
powerfd or more renowned than Hermann, Lan<%raTe^ er
Duke of Tharingi% and Cooat Pidatino of Saxony. The
courage and talents which be hod inherited with the possea-
Bions of hit illastriona father, Lonis Le Ferr6, one of the
most remarkable prhncea of the middle ages — {he special pr»*
tcctlon of Pope Innocent III. — ^hii near relationship to the
emperor Frederic Barbarossa, whose nephew ha wa&^hm
trieudahip with king Ottooar of Bohemia, and the hoasei of
Saxoaji Ba^ariai and Aoatria— tha poiition of hie faat

10«

tiri OF 0T. KLXZABXTB,

estates in the centre of Germany, extending from the Lah«
to the Elbe — all combined to confer on bim 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 crowu. He 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 Thurlngia takes away his crown, and
gives it to whom he wills." It was principally to this inflo-
euce that the celebrated emperor Frederic II. owed his election
in tiie 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 withont 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 au arlent 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 chivalroas
poetry shed its purest ray on Germany, he comprehended
all its immortal beauty, though he could not, like the emperrT
Henry YI. 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 hall
and peasant's hut ; yet none of them coold surpass him ic
admiration of the gai savoir, or in mnnificence and affection
towards all poets ; they composed his society, and were the
ol^iects of his most tender soUcitnde. His court we« a home

OF aUHOART.

101

U) cTery child of song, and to the end of his itormy life he
prescrTed this >rcdilccti n of his early years. His glory and
his virtues h ^ been well commemorated, for his name ii
mentioned iu the " Titurel," the " Parci/oi;' and in all the
most popular monuments of national poetry. Thus Walthcr
Vcn der Yogelweide, the greatest poet of that period, hai
Ruid of him, " Other princes are most clement, but none is so
(renerous as he. He was so, and is still. Ko one suffers from
'lis caprice. The flower of Thnringia 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
nt his Castle of Wartbourg, situated on a height above the
town of Eisenach, assembled at his court six of the most
rmowned poets of Germany, viz : Hernrich Schrieber, Wal-
ther Von der Vogelweide, Wolfram D'Eschenback, Reinhart
de Zwetzen, 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 poof
Heinrich, who was at least their equal in talent and popu-
Inrity. 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, and 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 iH
a public and final combat before the Duke and his court; they
also required the presence of the executioner, rope in hand,
ind he was to hang, during the sitting of the assembly, him
V hose verses should be declared inferior to those of his rivals,
lius showing that in their eyes glory and life were insepa*
a))le. The Duke consented, and pre ided himself at this
olemn strife, the fame whereof was spread throoghout Ger

IXVI OV IT. BIICABBTH,

Banj, and at which asBembled a crowd of knights and
nobles.

The combatants sang by tnrns, and in the most Tailed
forms, the ealogiums of their fayoarite princes — the great
mysteries of religion — the mysterions marriage of the soul
with the body at the resurrection— -the inezhaostible clemency
of God — the efficacy of repentance— the empire of the cross
— and, above all, the glories of Mary, the beloved of God,
more beantiful than mercy, more brilliant than the san.
These songs, preserved by the aadience, are still extant, nuder
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 was
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
Mrvants.

KiiiigBoltf being anrived at Eiseiacb, sojourned at Urn

OF BVVOAtr.

109

mrned at tlw

hostel of Heiiiy Hellgref, at the left side of Si CMrgi^
Gate, descended on the evening of his arriTal into the garden
of his hosty wherein were seferal of the nobles of He«e and
Thnringia, come expressly to Tisit him ; there were there also
officers of the Ducal ooart, and a namber of the honest
towMiaen of Eisenach, who, according to an ancient and stilt
existing costom in Germany, came there to drink the erening
cap. These good people surronnded 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 ha
said to them, " I will tell yon 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 tha
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 ths'son of your
prince, she shall become a saint, and her sanctity shall rejoica
and console all Christendom.''

The bystanders heard these words with great joy, and
next morning the knights returned to Wartbonrg, to tell tha
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 sacrifiee, 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 whola
court, and, calling for his horse, the Landgrave went with a
numerous escort to visit Klingsohr, and to entreat hha to
return with him to Wartbonrg. Thera he Waa treated with
the highest honour, and tho "priests paid him the sama
reverence that they wonid 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 soixiety was already awakened, asked him aaay

LIFR OF ST. BLfSABITR,

qoeftioM relative to the affairM of Hongary, whether the kicg
was engaged ia many undertakings, whether he was at peace
with the infidels, or whether the war iiad re-oommonoed,
Klingsohr satisfied his cnrioaity 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 tlie noble rivals entertained against Heinrieh, 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 mines 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
fav . .7, 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 illnstrions houses of the empire in the thir
teenth century. She was a descendant in a direct line from
Charlemagne, and possessed the most beautiful prorinces in
the south of Germany. Gertrude's father, Berchtold III,,
was Duke of Merania and Carinthia, margrave of Istria, and
sovereign of the Tyrol Her brother, Berchtold lY., in 1198
itfaied the imperial crown, which was tendered ananimoosiy

Of ■uvoAmr.

bj the electing princee. One of her sisters, afterwordi
canonised, was Hedwige, dachess of Silesia and Poland ;
another, Agnes, so celebrated for her l)eantj and misfortnnes,
was wife to Philip Aagnstns, king of France. Gertmdo
eqnalled her husband in piety ; historians speak of her
coarage, and her mascalinc soul. The most tender loTO
united this noble couple. In the year 1207, on the day and
at the hour announced by Rlingsohr 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 magniii-
ccnce ; the royal babe was carried to the church under a
canopy of the richest stuffs that could be procured at Boda»
which was then one of the principal marts of Oriental luxury.

From the cradle, this child gave proo& 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 ag^ of three years, according to the historian, she
expressed her compassion for the poor, 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 pnblic into private life. Tiola*
tioDS 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
(he coincidence of this sudden peace and prosperity with the
birth of the child, whose piety was so precocious ; and when
afkenrards they saw so brilliantly realised the promised

IIS

Liri.ef IT. aLiM'STH,

Tivtuet of h«r early yean, the Hanfatians levMl |e my, t|«l
ii»f er did royal infaat bring M oiany biettings to her country.

Meanwhiio, Duke Hermaoft left uo means untned to fiqd
out it the predictions of Klingsokr had ooiue to pass, #M
whether a princess was bom in Hiuigary on the day be knf*
told. And when he learned, not only her birth, but stHl
more the marks of devotion she already efineed, and the
happiness that she seemed to have brougbt from heaven to
her country, he conceiTed the most ardent desire to see the
prediction entirely afXKNnpUshed, and his young son espoused
to SIHzabeth.

The travellers that arrived, fhm time to time, from Hub*
gary, which was then scarcely more isolated than it is at
present from the rest of Europe, often brought him sonw
•oconnt of the daughter of king Andrew. One day parti-
enlarly, a monk who came from Hungary related to the Dnkt
that, having been blind from the age of fdur years, he wafi
suddenly cured by the touch of the young princess. " AH
Hungary,^ said he, " rejoices in this child, for she has broughi
peace with her.**

This was sufllciefit to decide Hennanu to send an embassy
composed of lords and noble ladies, to the king of Hungary,
to demand aS him, in the name of the young Louis, the hand
of Elisabeth, and, if possible, to bring her with them to
Thuringia. He selected for this mission Ooont Reinhard de
Mulhbcrg, Oauthier de YarOa, bis cup-bearer, and the Lady
Bertha, widow of Egilolf de BeindelibaD, who was, accord
ing tp the Gbroniclers, famed for her wisdom and modesty,
besides being beautiful, pious, and honourable m all thin^i.
She had, as companions, two noble and beauteous raudeni^
aud two esc^uires. The ambassadors had at least thirty
horses in their train. Along their route, they were received
by the princes and prelates tibrongh whose estates they passed,
with the disHnelioii die to their faah and tbot of thek Loid

0^ «nii«A»v.

Happily «rrif ftd at Pratborg, Ui«j w«i6 •BtortatMd widi
royal hoapitalityt and ft gfet^ numW of llama war* oflEarad
ip on tha moniiog aftar Uiair aoUranoa to that oity.

Wban tbaj opooed W Ung Andra«r tha objeat aC thalr
misaioD, ba apaemUail bia epuocU lo dabbarala an tba damaiMi
of tbe Dako of Thutfingia.

Elingsobr upheld it Warmly, and in a diaoouna wbiob
aervet aa a pietve of ThnriBgia at tbat period, he abowed
forth the richea and power of Hermann; ba ennmerated tba
twelve Connta, who ware bi» vaaaala, not to apeak of knigbfi
and barona; ba praiaed hia fertile and well-cnitivated coon-
try; be also told of ha fine foreata and well-stored fiah-
|X)nd8, and how oomfertable the people were, "drinking
Btrong beer, and eating good white bread.** He llien enkv
gised the personal character of the Duke, and added, thai
the yonng L^nia appeared to him to posaess all the good
qualities that eonld be expected at his age. Queen Gertrude
also approved of the Teqoest of Hermann, and Andrew,
yielding to her influence^ agreed to part with hia beloyed
child. But before he would permit her to aet out, ba
wished to celebrate a feast in her honour, and having a^
sembled all the noblea and their ladies, he ordered brilliant re*
joicings. The games, dances, music, and the songs of the min-
strels, lasted three days, after which the Thuringian anibassadoia
took leave of the king. The attendants brought with them tba
littlo Elizabeth, tbcQ aj^d four years, and, covering her with a
silken robe embroidered with gold, laid her in a cradle of mM*
live silver, and tbns gave her into the care of the ThuringianSi

Hie king said to the Lord de Yarila — ^ I confide to thy
knightly honour my sweetest, consolation.'' The Q^een, alao,
came weeping and, racommeoding her child to bis^ care. Tba
knight answ^d tbeoi tbna — *^I will willingly take ohargt
of her, and 9^^ alwaya ba bar f^/tiiiak aarvaot*' Ha kepi

&IFI Of ST. ILIIABITK,

I *
I' *

hfe word, as w« tball henwhn mo. Before learing Pre»
burg, the ambaieadors reoeiTed from the king and ^een
presents of immense ralne, tome for themselres, and some to
be carried to Duke Hermann, as the dower of the princena
OoDtemporary narratiTea enamerate in detail these presents,
faying, that never were seen in Thoringia things io precioas
and beantifuL

Hence we may oonclnde, that this marriage serred to in*
trodaoe into Germany a new defelopment of the Inznry of
the East, which, at so distant a period, mnst have been of
importance in the history of Germanic art and industry.
Queen Gertrude added to these gifts a thousand marlis of
silver, and promised that, if she lived, she would double the
imn from her privy purse.

The ambassadors at last set out. They had conie witli
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 the
eourt, the joy of having received the young princess almost
let their senses astray. The whole party entered the Hostel
of Hellgref, where Elingsohr 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 hii
bosom, thanked God for h&ving granted her to him.

He then returned to Wartbourg to prepare for her recep

115

tlon, bnt the DucbeM remained all night with the child The
next morning, she conducted her to the castle, where the
Dnke hnd assembled all his court, and to which a nnmber of
the citizens of Eisenach and their wives were inrited, to set
the ehild that Qod and the king of Hungary had sent them.

The princess, aged fonr years, was solemnly affianced to
the Doke Loais, who was then elcTen ; and, according to
custom, they were laid side by side ib one bed. Then there
wore, as at Presburg, snmptncns banquets and festivals, at
which poetry, the principal magnificence of the court of
Thnrin^'a, shone with its accustomed brilliancy.

Dating from this time, Elizabeth never left him who waa
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, 80 that none of the young heart's fireshness was lost,
hat the fond and yarying 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 childhodH joined in an earnest and only love,
providing for after years the reiMmbrsooe of the iweetMl
and moat holy tMecUom,

tte

LIfl Of fT. BLtlABITB«

CHAPTER U

tn 0IAB Mnrr baa:

■oNouBiv ooD ni

•*Clni| MM ftvalt d*««« dr«H

Mnto TMMaos !• DWv •ImAa^

Li an* !• Bol d'HMifri*.
Qiunt • btMi ftilra ooaumtnaa.**

" i?tff«6«Hr if'&t ^Iftt J»r* TM^

In the bosom of the feniHj from which Providence thni
•eparated the little Eliiabeth^ two cameB contributed to de
velop in her lotil those Tirttet that were recognised in her
even from the cradle. She had, in the first place, an illus*
trioos example of the union of all Christian virtues with
sovereign nu^esty, in the person of her maternal aunt, Hed*
wige^ Duchess of rolsnd, who in after years merited the
veneration of the faithful^ and whose austere and fervent
piety contrilmted even then to the glory of her family, and
waa A sabject of edification' which Eliifttbeth well know how to
andentand and to imitate. But, besides the infinence of thfc
exampiO, God permitted that unforeseen misfortune shooftl
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 io Tiiri ingia, her mother,
Queen Gertrude, suffered a moe' < ;ji i^ath, huving 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
tbir. to revenge the honour of his wife, outraged by Berch-
icid, b. "f?tir to the queen ; according to others, she sras the

or irtftAftr.

rfctim of • plot formed Agatntt the Rfe of iMr hofbtad, and
(hat, in order to gire him iime to escape, she doHTered he^
w)f «p to the blows of th() conspirators. Tills fatal news soon
rpsrhsd Bliaabeth, and an hiBtorfMur agree in regarding it as
one of the principal soarces of th« gr»f r thooght and profound
pietj which were manif'^fted in aft her childish actions. <

On Rliaibeth*S arriral In Thoringia^ tiie Landgratr ne-
terted to bo her companions, seren maidens 01* the most no. io
liomes of his dominions, amongst whot, was hi own danghtcf
Arnes; all were about the age of th* young princess, and
.V ub brought up with her. One of thes( , Quta, who was fi?e
yours old, being a year older than Elizabeth, remained in he?
seryice until a short time before her death.

And when Ood called her to himself, and when the report
of her sanctity, noised abroad, attracted the attention of the
ecclesiastical authorities, this same Guta, being [«nbllcly intG^
rogated, related the recollections of her chiIdho«Kl. It is to
her depositions, carefully preserved and transmitted to the
Holy See, that we o^e the knowledge of the del lils we are
aboat to g^fe of the occupations of the first ye its of our
Elizabeth.

From this tender age all her thoughts and feelings seemed
to be centred in the desire of senring Ood, and of meriting
Iheayen. Whenever au opportunity offered, she went to the
I 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 foldhig her little hands, and
raising Iter eyes to heaven, she gave herself up with wonde^
|fal recollection to meditation and prayer.

At play with her companions, for instance, in hopping
ilong, she led so that all were obliged to follow her to the
|Chf»|iil, and wheu she found it shut, she wonld fervently-
(Ifis til* lock, door, and walls, out of love Ibr the Lord who
[resided wltfaio it, concealed under the sacramental veilL

118

Liri OF IT. ILIZABITR,

In all her sports, in whioh there were games of chanco
■he was governed by the thought of Qod. She loped tcl
gain for Him ; for all her winnings were distribated amongst
poor girls, on whom she imposed the duty of reciting a ce^|
tain number of "Paters^ and " AvesJ*

She continually sought occasions of anion with God ; and I
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 U3 is the tallest." Then stretching her-
self successively by the side of each little girl, she would
proGt of the moment to humble herself before God, and to
repeat an "^yf." 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 bo
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, grant that we may be I
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
lier, 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 as
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
fulftlliug this voluntary obligation, and obliged by her attend-

OF BUNOART.

lit

intfl (o go to bed, sh^ never failed to acquit liene!f of hei
devotions whilst tbey thought that she slept Thus, lika
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 her
veil so as that the least possible portion of her infantine fear ^
turcs could only be seen.

The boundless charity, which was at a later period iden-
tified with her life, already inflamed , her predestined soaU
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 ahe used care-
fully to carry to starving creatures.

This soon awakened against her the displeasure of the
officers of the dncal honse. According as she grew np, 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
wou4d 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 npon the Altar, and each postnlant ad*
fMced and took the first that chance presented to her. Tht

S!l

,l:i

ISO

Liri Of ftT. iLIIABlTH,

taper wliicli bore the naine of Bt. John was taken up %j liH>
■abcth, biit iiot content with tids coincidence with her wiriiei
ahe twice renewed the trial, and bad each time the Bame
success.

Believing herself reeommeoded to the beloved Apostle by
a special manifestation of Providence, she felt her devotion
towards him increase, and during all her life she faithftdly
venerated him ; she never refused anything that was asked of
her in St. John^s name, whetht^r 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 reader herself wo^
thy of Heaven. She therefore redoubled her efiforts to attain
all Christian virtues, and augmented the number of her voluii-
tary privations.

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

Outa tells us, that on these occasions she woold not {ml
on gloves or laced ruffles, antil after Mass.

Every day she sought opportunities of conquering bet
■elf-will in little things, in order to prepare for making
greater sacrifices. In her games, when she won, and thai
auccess made her quite joyous, she would suddenly stop^
laying, '* Now tliat I have been so fortunate, I will give ap
for the love of God.'' She loved dancing, according to tha
•niversal custom of the country wherein she was bom, and
of that in which she was reared ; but when she had danced
sue 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 Lonis, her betrothed, was contin»
ally with her, and she leU girtat pleatore in being near bilk

dt miwknr.

Hhe called him "Jfy dear Brother;^ and h« was wont to
address her thus : "My dear friend — my tweet Sitter."

Tbos passed the earlj days of this young girl ; the Lord
who reserved her for so pure and so brilliant a destiny, had
counted the number of hcor jeafB, 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 iaterior roTolatiom which have
distinguished the lirei and eoiiTersiona of amam of tbe most
illustrious saints. No storm of the heart was to darken the
celestial ray that lighted her from the eradle to the tomb t

All was to correspond in her Uessed career. She was not
the only servant of God, who in early life rendered testineony
to His mercy and power ; and certainly there is ftot for
Christian eyes a sweeter mghi, than the dawning of those
great lights that are destined to iUnauiie 1m*? ea and earth.
ft

. ' ,

isa

LIFI 07 ff. SLIS41iaV«,

CHAPTER lit

■OW Tm DEAR SAINT BUZABKTB HAD TO SUmCB FOR

''BaatM IbMit et Mwiit mlttoatM Mmlin toa.**

** T«lait« atttom vealaat earn aznltattoo* portaatM maalpolw

P9. ajEZT. T, 8.

Elizabeth had scarcely attained her ninth year when the
fiither of her betrothed, the Landgra?e 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
lanctuary 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 hla
heir, being his eldest son ; the two younger brothers, Henry
Raspon 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.
ThaX illustrioiu and pions prince had continued to love her

OF BuvoAmr.

12S

on accoont of her precocious piety. He had always treated
li'T as his own daughter, and daring bis life no one dared to
taterfere in her religions practices.

But after his death it was no longer so. Though LouIa,
whom she looked upon as her betrothed and her lord, bad
occome sovereign of the country, his extreme yontli made
tiim in some measure dependent on his mother, the Duchess
Bophia, daughter of the celebrated Otto de Wittlesbach, Duke
of Bavaria. This princess saw with displeasure Elizabeth's
great devotion, and showed her discontent at it. The younjf
Agnes, sister of Louis, who was brought up with her futuro
sister-in-law, and whose dazzling beanty had rendered he?
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
tit 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 tk3
most influential officers of the ducal court, forgetful of the
respect due to her royal birth, her sex, and extreme youtb,
blushed not to pursue her with derision and public insults.
AH 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 bad been
appointed as her companix>ns. 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 t6
surround herself with the children of the women among whom
she distributed her alms.

The insults of which she was the object, y^rved to render
this society more sweet and dear to her. i^t^ neycr allowed

i: i

LIFE O^W CT. »|.II4B1TB,

pride, or woonded selMoTe, or 6f«a impatience, Co dwell Ii
her heart.

Til is first experience of the iDJostice of men, and of tlie
miseries of the world, became^ as it were, a new linlc uniting
her to Qod. She gathered therefrom new strength to loTe
and serve Him.

" As the lily among thorns,'' sajs one of her historian^
" the itmocent Elizabeth budded and bloomed in the midst of
bitterness, and spread all around ner the sweet and fragrant
perfume of patience and humilitjr.''

She gave at this time an example of that humility, whidi
all the narrators of her life ha^e carefully preserved. It was
the feast of the Assumption, a day on which there were great
indulgences in the churches consecrated to the Blessed Vir
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 priii<>
cesses, being adorned as she had ordered, descended with
her to the eity, and entering the 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 dcT, instead of behaving like an ill-reared ciiild ? Is
your crown too heavy f Why do you remain thus stooped
like a peasant T Elisabeth fisiqg, humbly answi^ved \m

OV BVKAARt*

lift

Dother-in-law, " Door ladjr, do not blAme me ; behold befort
my eyes mj God and mj King, the sweet and merdfhl Jeana,
crowned with ■h«rp thorns, and can I, who am bat a rile
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 ahready the lofe of
Christ had' woniided her tender heart. She tlien knelt
humbly as before, leaving Sophia and Agnes to speak mneb
UK 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
ill the eyes of the people, were obliged to imitate her, and
to draw their veils over their faces, " which it would havo
been much more pleafiing to them not to do/^ adds the chro*
nicler.

Such traits served but to iacreast the hatred with which
profaue souls were inflamed against her. According as sha
grew up this feeling seemed to be propagated more and more,
aiul when she had attained a marriageable age, there was a
general explosion of persecutions and insults against her,
throoghout the whole court of Thuringia. The relatives of
the Landgrave, his oouncillors and principal vassals, all do-
clured themselves averse to such an union. They clamoured
loudly and said that she should be seat back to her father,
>uid restore her troth-plight. That such a BtguiM was noib
fit for their prince— that he should have a spouse, noble, rich.
Well-connected, and of truly ro}al 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-
)jL til's father lived too far away fcT that, or even to revengt
llie insults ofl^ed to his daqghter if he felt them, and further-
more that he seemed to have forgotten her akeady, and had
iot sent Ui^ ^qwMlider of the iowry promised by ber mothif

[:i

ia«

LIFB Of ST. ■LIIABITR,

The intimate companioni of the young duke seized every 9/
portaiiity of iudaciag him to gire ap Eiisabetb, and to send
her back to Hangary, becaoae she was too timid and reserved.
The Dachess-mother used every effort to oblige Eiizabctli 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, virill marry you, you mistake very
much ; or if he doea. you must become quite a dififerent per-
son from what you wow are.'' Such was the treatment which
she had to endure every day — she deeply felt the unbappioess
oT her position — there was she, still a child and already with-
«M<t 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 Qod's enemies and hers.
Vet this made her the better recognise that her life should be
but a pilgrimage in this uncertain world. She had recourse to
God, 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 ho thought fit.

Then when at the foot of the 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 :

" O most dear St. Elizabeth, I honour thy Tirtuous yontl
and weep over the contempt and persecution thou didst suffer.
Why have I not passed my early years as holily as tbo« didst t

his recital to

Of BUNOART,

191

t hy did not I, like thee, suffer patiently all contradictions f
' rteseecb thee, by thy blessed childhood, to atone for my lo-
r. itiiic malice, and, by thy heioic patience, to obt"') for
pi'rUon of my wilful auger tiid of ill nj CMUti."

138

CHArTER IT.

■OW TBI TOimO LOUIS WAS FAimrUL TO Tm SIAA
BLIZABETO, AND HOW HB MARRIED BKR.

•latara

muIUra adolOTrantto txm. * . .
Jugltor.**— />ro«. t. M, ML

4ns Mttlmt

The jnst 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 yoang 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 iucreaoed
every day, and though, probably out of regard for his mother,
he did not think proper to manif st it publicly, nevertheless,
this pare and holy affectioii 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 niA
the voice of his passions. He regarded with joy and admira-
tion what attracted to Elizabeth the insults of the world,—
her extreme modesty, the absence of all pomp in her dress,
her piety, charity, — and he thought ho^/ 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 ua
a sister in tfesus Christ, with an affect! n that seemed to ha^e
been instilled into his heart by the baud of the Most High.

The more the wicked surroonded him with perfidious cou»

OV UVMQktLti

lolfl, the more did he feel his soal penetrated with ^ ielrt^
aiiil tenderncM for this iuooccnt struiiger; according us ht
Raw her hated by others on account of iier ?irtoc8, the greaUT
iK>(e8.sit7 did he feel for loving and defending iicr. Loaia
proiited of every opportunity, when, witliont offending hla
mother, he could go secretly to console Elizabeth in her m<^
inriits of sadness. In this solitude, without ^thcr witness
thai; Qod, who had already blessed their ho!y nnion, they
8|)oke of their secret and mutual love, and the prince sought
by tender and encouraging words to heal the wounds which
otlicrs infllcied on this young soul. Thus she experienced
from these meetings unspeakable consolatioa. 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 i;er with whatever he had brought, as a love-gift,
and a sign that be 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 tliey boasted of it as a symptom
of a change in Louis's feelings. Having met Lord Gaultier
•le Varila, the great cup-bearer, who had bronght 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 her
grief to this old friend The good knight sympathised in liti

ISO

tin OF IT. ILTIABITH,

afllictioii, on«l proroiiicd to njpotk of it to his lord. He ioos
had an ojtporiunity, for Louia took liim on a hantin)^ P<^rtf
in the noigbt)ourhood of Wartbourf^. As they rfA'lined to-
gether on tho f^raHfl in a certain wood, whence cun iw aeen
ill the foreground Inacllierg, the hi)?heat mountain of Tiiuriuf^iii,
I<ord Ganltlcr Raid to him, " Will you be pieaaed, uiy Lonl,
to answer a question 1 am going to put to yon 1" Tlie good
prince replied, " Spealc confidently, nnd I will tell thee nl!
thou wouldst know.** "Then," said the knight, "what arc
yon 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
mimediately, and, stretching fortli his hand towanis InselberL',
he said, " Dost thou see that mountain before us ? Well! if
it were of pure gold, from its base to its sninmit, and that nil
bhould be giyen 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 |
i;othing better in this world : I will hare 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,** suit)
Gaultier, "to let me repeat to her these words.'* "Tell
them to her," said Louis, " and tell her also that I will nevor
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,
hct in silver, within which was a picture of oar crucified I
Lord. The knight hastened to Elizabeth, told her wliatj
had happened, and gave her the mirror. She smiled witli
great joy, and thanked Lord Gaultier for having thus aetcd
towards her us a father and friend ; then, opening the mirror I
and seeing the picture of our Lord, she fervently kissed it|
and pressed it to her heart.

But the time wag soon to come, when Louis could keep

or HUMuiiAr.

131

ais coald keep

riii word m ft Christian and a priiuw, and when Elizabuth
was to be rewarded for her patieiicr, nnd <*our'ol«ii ftir hun
trialM. ill 1218, on iita feast of St. Kiliau, ttu> Duke havir«f(
ai coinitlifilied hU eighteenth year, wan, with «itvcral youn^
rortis, nniied as a koi^ht, in the Church of Rt. Qeor^ at
Ki<i'iia< II ; the Bitihop of Nuiiinburg come there to bleia
thoir swords.

The fullowinp: year was partly oocupiod in sastaininf^ a
IV ar Against Sigefrid, Arclibishop of Mayence, who, on
Airoiiut of certain disputes with llcrinann, had excomniani*
lated bis son ; the latter, having boldly entered into Hesse,
uiul there ravaged the possessions of the prelate and his
friends, obliged him to sue for peace. A conference was
litid at Fulda, on the feast of St. Boniface, in the year
1-219 ; the Landgrave was formally absolved, and a perfect
reconciliation took place.

Oil his return from this first campaign, Lonis proclaimed
his intention to marry his betrothed, and at the same time
iiiipuse'd silence on aH who were inclined to give insulting or
|)ti verse 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 Qod in his eternal councils had united.

" Admire," says their historian, " how this happy young
man and chaste husband, when about to marry, remaineu
di af to impious advice, and a stranger to the thirst for gold,
knowing that 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
f^reat pomp at the castle of Wartbourg. The Duke invited
to it all his counts of Hesse and Thuringia, 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 bridt

Liri OF 8T. ILXZABITB,

to the Charch to Count Meinhard de Mnhlberg, and Lord
Guulticr de Yarila, who had soaght her nine years before in
Uungary, and who now, as it were, placed the seal on tho
result of tlieir embassy. Elizabeth was also accompanied by
si I 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 ol*ject 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 dunces, and the splen-
dour of the tournament, which was held for three days, and
ftt which several young knights distinguished themselves.
After these three festival days, the nobles and their wives
Buccessively 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 but 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 God with an inconceivable
love, and for this reason the holy angels dwelt coutinoally
with them.

OV BUVOAKT.

18S

CHAPTER y.

: ^^

■OW TUB DUKE hOmSy HCSBAND OF THE DEAR SAIKT BLIZADETB,
WAS AGREEABLE TO GOD AND MAN.

** Bnt lit lUe Blmplez et rectoa, ae ttmem Deam et reoedens • malo.'*

Jobi.1,

The husband whom God in his mercy had destined for hit
pious sei'vant, 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 of
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-
I 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 one
could see without loving him.

What particularly distinguished him from his earliest
lyoars, was, an unstained purity of soul and body. He was
las modest and bashful as a young girl ; it was easy to make
|hin\ blush, and he observed in his conversation the greateU
IreserifQ.

1^*
m

134

tirs 07 8T. SLIZABETB,

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

Independent of control at a very early age, master at I
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 yirtne 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 be
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 short time after the death of his father, Louis went I
with his mother, the duchess Sophia, to the castle of Ebers-
berg. A certain lord wished to put his innocence to tlie
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 to
weep, and, when iked the cause of her tears, she replieilJ
" Because they wish to take my brother's precious soul and)
destroy it."

Meanwhile the young duke Louis lay upon his bed, for itl
#as during the heat of the day, when he heard a kaxk atl
his door j he leaped up, and went, barefooted at ho was, til

CF BUNOART.

185

ope: it. The young girl entered with the knight, and after
thev were seated, Louis said to her,

" Maiden, why come you here V*

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

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

At these words the pious and prudent prince called one of
Ills chamberlains, and desired him to bring him three marks
of pnre silver. When he had received them, he gmve thera
to the girl, and said, " Lower your veil, fair maiden, and take
this small present as a blessing, that yon may return with joy
to your family." Tlien 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 i.Rrrator says
that he conceals the name of this false knight to avoid giving
scandal, and adds, " Elizabeth, seeing that the stranger de-
i parted so soon, rejoiced at it, and thanked God."

Another time, as he looked from a window at Eisenach on

la square where the people were dancing, an attendant pointed

out to him the wife of one of the citizens who was remark*

nl)le 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

Ito sully my ears by such language, I will drive thee from my

Irourt. How darest thou propose to me to become an accom-

i>1ice in a crime which I may be called upon to judge and

)unish every day." So rare and courageous a virtue could

}iave for its foundation only an active and practical faith in

ill 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
tis a zealous defender of the rights of the Church and ths

ri
■ ■

■ ■

130

Liri OF 8T. XLIZABSTfl,

' f

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 '^f his lay
vassals troubled the peaceful and benevolent lives of tlie
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 iu which he took most pleasure was that of
religions men, and the usual termination of his rides in the
time of peace was the Benedictine Abbey of Keinhartsbrunn,
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-
be 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 bis time surpassed him in courage, nor
•▼en in physical strength and agility iu the exercises of the
body. He displayed this couiage on an occasion which the!
historians have carefully commemorated. The emperor made
bim a present of a lion, and one morning the duke, lightly
clad, and entirely without armour, was walking in the court*
vard ; he saw the lion, who had escaped from his den, running
lowtuxls him roaring. Without being at all f ightenad, hi

07 HUNOART.

1J81

ftood firmly, clenched his hands, and menaced him with his
voice, trusting in God. The lion came immediately waging
hi3 tail, and. lay at his feet. A sentinel who was on the
rAmpirts, attracted by the roaring of the lion, perceived the
danper of his master, and called for help. The lion allowed
liimself to be chained without any resistance, and many
porsons saw in this power exercised over ferocious animals an
( vidciit pledge of celestial favour, merited by the piety of the
)>riiice, and the sanctity of the young Elizabeth. To this
courage, of which, in the continuation erf this history, we will
find many other proofs, he joined in a high degree that noble
conit<»sy which St. Francis of Assisium, his snblime contem
porary, named "The Sister of Charity. ^^ He bore towards
hll 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, end 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*
tiun 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 snffi
cicnt to punish the violators of the laws. He banished from
his court, and oeprived of their employments, all those who
were haughty to the poor, as well as persons who allowed
themselvco to be carried into committing a^ts of violence, and
tiiose who brought him false and malicious tales. Blasphemers
and men who blushed not to speak impnrc words, were cod-
dcmned to wear, daring a certain time, in public, a mark o(
i;;Dominy.

■m

itvi or ST.

Inflexible towards those wlio outra^d the law of God, \\t
was indulgent and patient to those who failed in the obsop
▼ance of his own enactments. When some of his servanta
would foFj^et themselves befure him, he would gently say,
" Dear children, act not thus, for yoii afflict my heart/'

To all his deliberations he bronght a tried prudeiicc — his
military expeditions and political actions show a skill and
foresight that do not appear easily reconcileablo with hid
extreme yonth and the simplicity of his character.

He occupied himself with a zeal and assidnity in all tlie
labours that the government of bis dominions imposed upon
him. His regard for truth was so great that his least word
inspired the same security as would the most solemn oatb
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. A.11 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 long<;r were vassals
heard complaining of the warlike and oppressive habits of
tboir 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
poble motto which be had chosen from his earliest yea»
'^Pietyt Choitity^ Justice towards aU^

he showed a

A.11 who were

th confidence,

ield to aTenge

OF HUSOAItr.

He realised more than any other, the glorious belief of
Catholic ages, which established a fundamental analogy be-
tween Chivalry and the Saceiuotal character, for true knighti
were priests armed with justice and faith, as the prietU wert
the knighta of the Word ud of pnjet.

>':i

'ial prosperity
jniclers of the
lappiness that
:ait which was
he Sovereign.
T were vassals
sive habits of
Ei,nqail ; union,
ntry — all with
liappiness that

»ntained in the
earliest yea»

140

LIPI or BT. BLIZABKTBi

CHAPTER yi.

BO\r TO! DUKE LOUIS AND THE DEAR ST. ELIZABKTII I.TTKD
GETIIEK BEFORE ODD IN THE HOLY STATE OF MAKRIAGK.

Pan bona, miiUer bona, In parte tlmentiam Deum dabitar vtro pro flict!» bonk

iVop. xxvL 8.

Yulnerastl oor meam loror mea sponsa.— (7an<. Ir. 9.

A PRINCE who was so perfect a model of a true Christian,
couid not receive a sweeter recompense in this vorld than the
loTe of a saint. We have seen how our Elizabeth retained
as her only 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 his
eariy years.

Elizabeth was gifted with all that could touch and win a
young heart. Adorned before God with piety an 1 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 conrplexion 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 pnrely hnman
admiration that these young people founded the unalterable
nnion of theur hearts — ^but it was on a common faith, and on
the strict practice of the virtoes that this faith teaches, and
the duties it imposes.

Notwithstanding her youth and the almost child-like Yiva>

OF HUWOAAT.

city of her love for her hosUand, Elizabeth ncTcr forfrot timi
iic was ber lead, as Jesus Christ is liead of the Church, and
that she should be obedient to him in all things as tiio Churr'h
is to Jcsns Ciirist. Shn joined then to her ardent love for
him a great respect — »(ie hastily obeyed his least sign or word,
niul had a scrupulous care that by none of her words or actiona
he should be annoyed or receive the slightest grounds for im-
piitience. The yoke to which she submitted was in all things
ns the Church wishes it should be, a bond of love and peace,
fur Louis gave her full liberty to perform the works that in-
terested her most — those of piety and mercy.

lie even ejicouraged and sustained her in these holy exer^
ciscs 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, proGting 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 Ue 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 co endure such penances, he would beg of her to givd
over. "Cease, dear sister," he would say, "and take thy
rest"- then taking her hand he would hold it until she was
agai^t by his side, or until he would fall asleep leaving his
linnd in hers — then she used to bathe in tears of pious fei^
vour that beloved hand that seemed to al!y her to earth
Louis never employed any constraint to oblige her to discon-
tinue her pious wcrks, they rejoiced him and gladdened his
he.-irt. Ysentrude. one of Elizabeth^s most confidential at-
tendants, related to the ecclesiastical juoges a circumstance
that proved Louisas indulgence. The Duchess, in older not
to oversleep hei'self nor to disturb her hudband, ordered one of

143

liri or ST. BLIEABITR,

her maidfl of honour to Awake her at a certain honr by oat(*htng
her foot — it hapi)encd on one occasion that Ysentrude conght
the Dnke's foot, he awoke saddenly, but gnesning the canse of
the dii^turbance, he lay down again without sliowing the least
lign of impatience. " He saw," njs the historian, " tliat Hlie
loved Gofi with her whole heart, and that thought comforted
him ; and flhe confiding in the pietj and windom of her hus-
band did not conceal from him any of her penitential exercises,
well knowing that he woald 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 «>/er,
as it were to perpetuate the remembrance of their childhood,
and make their whole lives oae unbroken attachment.

The happiness of being together was indispensable to
them ; so powerful were the chaste attractions of each, so
entirrt 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-
eom])any him, even though she had to travel over rugged
roads and dangerous paths, and to brave storms ; but neither
H^n 00^ snow, nor floods, nor excessive heats, could hinder
her from going, so anxious was she to be near him who hever
kept her from God. Nevertheless, it sometimes happened
that Louis was obliged by his duties as a Sovereign to unde^
lake long joorneys, even oat of his own dominions, Where ht

•V BVVOART.

\ri

\ I

roiil'l not bring liU wife ; then m soon as he set out, ohe
uxiM lay aside her royal robes, and covering her he^l wiiii a
, would put on the costume of a widow. Tliuy she would
!ii till during hifl absence, awaiting his return iu prujers,
A\< and severe mortifications.
I lilt n.s soon as the approach of Louis was annonuced, ^he
ii.. (1 to hastily adorn herself with nil the care and maguili*
. . IK i" her rank required. " It is not," she would sny to litf
I ;ti<l('iiK, "through carnal pleasure nor vanity that I deck
iiivsclf thus — God is my witness, but oidy through Christian
rliirity, that I may remove from my brother all occasions of
(i soiitcnt or sin, if any thing in me should diiiplease him,
tliat he may love but me in the Lord, and that Qod who has
(oioceruted 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 wouFd use
(veiy effort to please his eyes and his heart. At table she
colli ! not bear to sit at a distance from her husband, but
Would take her place by his side, which was expressly con*
trarv to the custom then observed by ladies of high rank.
Ill this way she not only gratified hereelf by being as near as
pos^ble 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
v*uls than the sight of so much virtue in these young persdns.
Lnited by a holy concord, full of purity and humility before
loi], full of charity and good-will towards men, loving eacli
th* r with a love that drew them both to God, they offered
) heaven and earth the most edifying sight, and, in anticip* r
on, realized the charming picture which the greatest of Catb>
lie poets has traced of a celestial marriage :

L» lor eonooHto e I lor H«ti sembhinlik
e mamTiglte o doloe ■goardo^
>t otfion do'ponster nuitl

^fi^ PmraS. o. A

•■it

144

&!#■ Of ST. ILIIABBTa,

CHAPTER VII.

mom ni oiar it. EuzABrrn practised thi fnvra m

MORTIFICATION.

Or to daiTM aiiMl tmo,

Et lie M vie H fnit ewn,

Por I'trtne dcffondre et oonrrtr^

Kt por saint i'vadU ouvrir.

Bkhoij) then our young princess in possession of all th«
happiness of early y.-ars, 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 darkcni
life, whose romemhrance suffices to alleviate the deepest woe
ThuH God often grants this consolation (like tlie 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 bonnd to triumph.

Bhe felt that the grace which God had granted her in
oniting her to him she loved so much, obliged her to a more
ceaioufl 6<i«'iity, and a more ardent gratitude towards hor
celestiiU Heucfactor. Though assuredly her young heart could
not be stained vith grievous sin, she constantly remembered
that before the strict justice of God, the most faithful sou la
are but «n{ifori table servants, and tliat we can never anpose
on ovrse ves sufficient penance to merit salvatktn.

Thence she iegan, in the humility of her soul, to amasi
that soj^rabundaoce of grace and merit which is, according

or nuvoAAf.

to Ibo 8W«et and cr>nM>liuf^ doctrine of the Chnrch, for the
iAiiit<< of Qod • brilliant glory, and for the faithful a rich
treii!<!irc a«J a snr«5 refn;^.

Site RO'i'/ht at first to conquer her flesh hj rifi^e. We
have sern with what perscrerinK fidelity she mortified hr^rself
in tills way, aad with what mingled solicitude and indulgence #
her ] lions husband saw her rise from his side to approach God
ill prayer.

But frequently, notwithstanding her good trill, Elizabeth
during her derations would not be able to resist sleep, and
wuuid 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 con(|uered — 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
<!oul. But this was not the only self-inflicted penance endured
by this young and religious princess.

Under hvr finest clothes she always wore a eiliee (hair*
sliirt) nevi her skin. Every Friday, in commemoration of
the painfel passion of our Lord, and every day during Lent,
she cAiised the discipline to be administered to her severely
and in secret, " In order,'' says a historian, " to render to
our Saviour, who was cruelly 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/' sayi a coop
7

i46

LIFB.OV IT. KLIXABBTB.

temporary pocra, "she sought to approach into God, nnd
to break the bonds of the prison of flesh, like a valiant
warrior for the love of the Lord."

Elizabeth resolved that these secret ansteritics sbonld hy
DO means influence her daily duties, or render her dispositioo
in the least degree sad or gloomy.

She cheerfully took part in the festivals and merry-maku!g«
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
Hiotta, which grew greater by the beating of the waves, her
devotion increased amongst the pomps and vanities to whicli
her condition exposed her."

She detested all kinds of exaggeration in 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 ?"

Elizabeth never neglected any means of offering to God
her tribate of hamility 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 »\\ that was not contrary to his marital au*
thority.

NoWf 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-
rishiug herself with any other food than that which she knew
was furnished from her husband*8 private resources, and not
wrung from tte earnings of the poor vassals. The compas*

or BUiraART

lionate lieart of the yonng dachen complied with this, and
iiavir;^ adopted the resolution, she pat it in practice with the
most scrupnlous fidelity, thoagh she was sometimes embar*
rassed by it, as she still contiuned the custom of sitting b^
iier husband at meals.

This pious prince placed no obstacle in her way, and when
her ^AiTee 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 God'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
rnle ; 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
I tlie bitter sweat of the poor. She was most careful to hide
I 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 prrvations. She
would feign to watch the arrangement of the service with
great care — would frequently give orders to the attendanti^-
^vould speak to each guest, and invite him to drink. Some*
times even she used to cut into little pieces the bread and
neat 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
ind thirsty. Her noble maidens, companions in her penancoi
relate, that sometimes for her entire subsistence she had but
iry bread, or a few little cakes steeped in honey.

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

■\

'.,

i ■ :

148

LIFE or 8T. BLIIABKTn,

her own. Ou another occasion, as sbe went to join her hn»
band at ^he Diet of the empire, she found nothiuj; that her
conscience would permit her to eat but a piece of coaiae black
bread, so hard that she had to steep it in hot water ; bat, ua
it was a fust day, she was contented with it, and traFelled
the same day, ou that scanty meal, sixteen leagues on horse-
back.

A touching and graceful tradition tells as how it pleased
Ood to render these privations less rude and repulsive to her.
One day, durii\g 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 pioas as it is just, of the
narrator, he had soul enounh to recognise in this circumstance
a mark of divine favour, and a reward of the socrifxces which
his wife imposed on herself.

Often, accompanied by her maiden^, Elizabeth nsed 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, " Yoa
will eat but of that,'' or when an allowed drink, such as wine
from her husband's vineyards, she would add, " Drink bat of
this." But when she found nothing to trouble her conscience,
slie 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 aboTO hef
•go.

or HUKOAftT

I4t

A life 80 rigoroos, aud so contrary to the eastern of her
rank and her time, drew apon the duchess the disapprobation
and |)ublic reproach of all the court ; evea the Duke was uot
(.pared on account of bis tolerance for wbnt were accounted
the extravagancies of his wife. Both, however, resigned
tliemselvcs patiently to these profane judgments, loving better
to ))lcai»e God than men.

Tbe young prino ;ss 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
ciiurch at Eisenach, clothed in sumptuous robes, covered
witli 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
■y church to turn her eyes uumediately towards the crucifix.
she now did, and seeing the image of her Saviour naked,
iruwned with thorns, «,he hands and feet pierced with nails,
she felt penetrated with compunction, and entering into her*
Belf she said, " Behold thy God hangiftg 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
Mas 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
iiusband, 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
i\c(\ stuffs, bright coloured veils for the head, narrow and
plaited sleeves which appear to have been great luxuries at
that period, silken Allele for the hair, aud lastly, long dressei

Liri OF 8T. ILIIABITH,

iifc

with trains. When necessity oblig^ her to be clothed in
robes of state^ she retained ander the royal purple her simp?a
woollen garments and the cilice which she never left off. In
public assemblies she always appeared with the dignity and
odesty befitting a Christian princess. She recommended
this plainness of attire to the nobh 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 sh(» thought would suit them. Her efforts
were not froitless. Several of these ladies, touched by th
example of this yojng and newly-marrlcd woman, g^ve up ah
worldlv superfluities, and some amongst them even made vows
of perpetual cnostity.

Oh I holy simplicity t iiuth 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 ^8 years are in that of man, will yon not, after so long
and dark a winter, return, sweet spring-time of Faith, to
restore youth to this cftrth, and iti innocence to our hearts I

■

OV flUMaABT.

CHAPTER Vni.

Of TRV 0RXA1 OHARITY Or THB DBAR ST. BLIZABXTPf AVD HI!

LOVE FOR POVBRTT.

"Da panpcrim ntdMtlM; da p»np«rl mlcam nt aedptas totam !—««■■«
tMtum iicc!p« cflelum ; da n« peritiiras nt acdpias Bternas inensuraa.— & P*trM
Chryiologut, apud Thetanr. Nov. d« Snneti$.

In t« mlMnioordta, fn te pietste, '•

In te magniflcenza, in to a'aduna
Quantunque in oreatura i di bontate.**

.Pant0f Parad, e. 88L

Whilst Elizabeth ioltposed on her senses so rigorous a
ri\straiut, and treated herself, with so much severity, her
hoart overflowed with charity and mercy for her unhappy
fellow-creatures. The tender pity with which from childhood
she had be^ animated^ took every day new developments
which in a short time merited for her the sweet and glorioai
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 prooeed from rank, still less from the desire of obtaining
pvaise or purely human gratitude, but from an interior and
iieavenly 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*
Tills was her rulmg thought each hoar and moment ; to tba

18S

hirm 07 IT. ILIZABETR,

aae of the poor she dedicated al that she retrenched fiom
the Btipcrfluities usually required by her sex and rank. Yt t^
notwithstanding the resources which the charity of her huAbnud
placed at her disposal, she gave away so quickly all that she
poflsei^ed, that it often happened that she would despoil
he if of her clothes in order to have the means of assUting
i±u unfortunate.

So toucliing 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 f^om 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, be 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 precions alms.

}W nUROART.

15S

gi,e Applied herself to thofie duties with simplicity and uofuit
iii.r gaiety of manner. When the sick sought her aid, after
r* licviiifr their wants, she would inquire where they lived, in
order that she might visit them.

And then, no distance, no roughness of road, could keep
bi r from them. She knew that notiiing strengtliens fecllngt
of cliarlty more than to [lenetrate into all that is positive and
material in human misery. She sought out the huts most
distiiiit from her castle, which were often repulsive, through
null and bad air, yet she entered these haunts of poverty in
a inaiiner at once full of devotion and familiarity. She car-
rii'd herself what she thought would be necessary for their
niiscruble inhabitants. She consoled them, far less by her
gtMicrous gifts than by her sweet and affectionate words.
Wlien she found them in debt and unable to pay, slie engaged
to discharge their obligations from her privy purse.

Poor women in childbed were particularly the objects of
her com()assion. Whenever she could, she used to go sit by
tlieir bedsides to assist and encourage them. She used to
ttike their new-born children in her arms with a mother'a
love, and cover them with clothes made by herself ; she often
held them at the baptismal font, in order that tliis spiritnal
maternity might a£ford 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 often with the
fheets from the royal bed ; she would also assist at he funeral
service, and the people often saw with admiration this royal
ialy following with humility and recollection the poor coffin
(if the meanest of her subjects.

Returned to her home, she employed her leisure Loar%

Dot in the luxurious enjoyments of the nch, but, like the

valiant woman of Scripture, in laborious and useful work^

She spun wool with her maids of honour, and afterwards

154

Liri OP ST. KLIZABKTn,

made it into garments for the poor, or for the relifriouR m'lv
dicants nrhc at that period were established in her dominioiK
She oft^n tools for licr repasts Tegetnbles, and these desi^ni-
edlj bndly cooked, and without lalt or other seasoninp:, in
drder tliaf »he might Icnow by experience bow the poor wcr*'
fed ; and mch meals she took most joyfully.

We huvo seen how she frequently suffered hunger, rothi r
than use food which she thought the fruit of the taxes un-
justly required from her poor subjects. But she did not
confine to tiiese purely personal scruples her zeal for justice
and her earnest solicitude for the unfortunate. When, in
the exercise 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,
w 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-
fid 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 dime weeping to her to
tomplain that the king's servants h'a,d taken their cattle.
She went immediately to her husband and obtained their res.
loration, after which she said, "Their cattle indeed aro
returned to them, but who can restore to them their tears.**
. Elizabeth loved to carry secretly to the poor, not aloni

or BUMOAir.

i$t

monov, but provisions and othor maiien whivb the destiiiMi for
tli< in. She went thus laden, by the winding aid rugged palhe
iii.it led from the oaatle to the city, and to the cabins of the
lu'i^iibcuring valleys. ^

One day, wlien accomjMuiied by one of her favourite maid-
ens. MS she descended by a rude little path — (still pointed out)
—and carried under her mantle bread, meat, e§^ and other
fiM) I to distribute to the poor, she suddenly encountered her
liibhand, who was returning from hunting. Astonished to see
lai tlius toiling on nnder the weight of her burthen, he said to
li( r, '* I^t 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*
till lie had ever seen — and this astonished him, as it was no
longer the season of flowers. Se'sing 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-
aiiee in the form of a crucifix. Ho then desired her to continue
JKM- route without being disturbs! by him, and he returned to
Wartburg, meditating with re'Xfllection on what God did for
her, and carrying with him oie of those wonderful roses, which
lie ])rcserved 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 be ha^ seen hovering
over the head of his wife.

Amongst the unfortunate who particularly attracted her
oonipassion, 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 agA, objects <A
a solicitude and affection mingled with fear.

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

156

LtPI OP IT. ILIEABtrn,

thoM boingn mnrked by tho hand of God. Whercxcr (1 "v
were to be found, the wont to tht*in, m if no oontagioD wen- t<
be dn.ided ; bIio sat bj them, spuke to Uicm toudvr and c n-
loliiig HordH,cxhc.ited them to patience and confidence in (•• «J,
and never left thetn until she had diatributcd abundant aliii\
* You oui^lit,'* ibe would say, ** cheerfully to suffer thi^ martyr
doin ; it should cause you neither gr'ef nor anger. A» fur iih>,
I believe that if you endure patiently this hell which God
tends you in this world, you shall be saved from tho pains o!
the other, and that is a great gain.** Having one day met oua
of those unfortunates, who suffered besides from a malady in
the head, and whose appearance was repulsive in the high« st
degree, she led him to a retired part of tho orchard, cut off liin
matted hair, laid his head on her knees, and washed ana
cleansed it; her maids of honour having surprised her at tiiis
strange occupation, she smiled, but said nothing.

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

Another time, the Landgrave having gone to spend some
lays at his castle of Naumburg, which was situated in tlie
tentre of his southern possessions, and near Saxony, Eliza*
beth remained at Wartburg and employed herself during her
husband^s absCice in redoubling her zeal and care tor the
sick and poor, in washing and clothing them with garments,
(he 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 motheria*
law.

Amongst the sick there was a poor little leper named
Helias, ixdioec condition was so deplorable that no one would
take chai]|ne of him. Elizabeth, seeing him thus abandoned

• f BUVaABT.

!»•

hf ntl, felt hfivclf bonnd to do more for him than for any
oth(r; she took and bathed him hertelf, anointed him with a
heuliiii; bnhn, and then laid him in the hud, even that which
ihc ylinrcd with her royal husband. Now, it happened that
tlif I > lice retnrned to the castle whilst Elizabeth was thus
occn]iicd. His mother ran out immcdiatelj to meet him, and
when he alij^hted she said, " Come with me, dear sou, and I
will show thee a pretty doing of thy Elizabeth." "What
does this mean?'' said the Duke. "Only come,'' said she,
"nnd thou wilt see one she loTes mnth better than thee."
Thoii 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 tliyself.'' On hearing these words, the Duke could not
ro] tress 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 hia
bed." At this sight he remained motionless, as did his
mother, and began to shed abundant tears without being
ahle nt first to utter a word. Tlien turning round, he saw
his wife, who hod gently followed in order to calm his wrath
against the leper. "Elizabeth,'' said he, "my dear good
Bister, 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 ol me, a poor
sinner ; I am not worthy to see nil these wonders I ac-
knowledge thy almighty power : aid me, I pray thee, to
become a man accor(}ing to thy own heart, and according to
thy Divine will.'* Elizabeth profited of the profound imprea-
•ior vhich this scene made upon tne Duke, to obtain bia per

168

Liri Of ST. BLIlABETif,

misttioo to erect aa alnubouse midway ap tbe rorky llei^ht
crowned bj the cattle of Wartburg, on tbe site since oi< o-
piud by a convent of Frauciiicans. Slie therein uiaiutaiiud,
from tliut time, twenty-eight sick or infirm poor periioiii,
chosen from amongst those who were too feeble to ascend to
the castle. Evgry day she went to Tisit Uiem, and carrii vl
with her meat and drink for their use. Living thus with the
poor and for tlieni, it is not astonishing that Qod should
have inspired her with that holy love of poverty which hug
rendered tlio souls richest in Uis grace illuttrious. Whilst
f^om 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, Ood 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 \mri\
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 io
the veneration of the Church and the love of the people, bj
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 tbe 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
ill her secret and holy reveiies, and in the aspirations of hef
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 — '* Sire, if it will not tire
you, I will tell you of a thought I have hod on the kind
of life we should lead in order to serve God better." ^ Sny
It then, sweet friend," replied her husband; **what is your
thought on this subject?" "I wish, then," said she^ **thut

or RVVOABT.

Ko had bat one farm, which would afford oa onon^h to IWf
oil, and aboat two hundred sheep ; then jou could cultivutt
tlir ^^rooiid, lend the horsofl, and endure these laboun for
(i Oil's suke ; and I would take care of the sheep and shear
till m.*' The Lnnd^rare smiled at the simplicity of his wife,
and replied, " Well, dear sister, if we had so much lanf*
and 80 many sheep, I think we would be no lougcr poor, and
iiiaiiy iH>ople would find us still too rich/'

At other times, when with her maidens, who were all her
friends, she would apeak of the joys of poverty ; and often,
ill lier familiar discour-es with them, the yonnji^ priucLSS, as
iiitnti A child in heart as in age, sough* to realise, at least
ill iinagiimtion, her pious desires. Removing iier royal
rolx's, she would clothe herself in a poor mantle of a grey

)iir, such us was worn by the wretched and mean ; .;he

idim

would cover her head with a torn veil, and, walking ^ lore
her companions, would feign to beg her brearj r and, as if
warned by celestial inspiration of the fate f<r v hich God
rosi rved her, she once spoke to them these prophetic words :
—"Thus will I walk when I shall be poor and m misery for
the love of my God."

" my God," says St. Francis de Sales, when relating
tills anecdote to his dear Philothca, " how poor was this priii*
cess in her riches, and how rich in her poverty I"

We freely confess, that in the life of this SAint, which we
have studied with bO muoh lov(;, nothing appears to us
more touching, more worthy of &amiration — nay, almost
even of envy, than this child-like simplicit}, which may pos-
lihly 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
i)\' her whose soul rested in the bosom of her heavenly
Father — all these, mingled with such painful sacrifices, suoh
(i;rave thoughts, so fervent a piety, so active, devoted, and

tin OF ST. BLISABBTB,

ardent a charity, offer the sweetest and most powerfid charm.
It is, beyond all, in times like oar own, when fiowen
wither and no frnits 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 theoi :
'* Amen, I say unto you, if you become not like unto littli
childreO; yon shall not enter into the kingdom of heavuL**

•f 9VV0AKT.

^^W

CHAPTER IX.

9ff m GBiAT ravonoH ARO HUMiLmr OP m rail n. bloa

mtUt MdlMnn dMiwa tk iMtet froetaai ■iiHaiii.-4 Mtg, tiM.m,

Atm$ w Ik doa itiele rwtnoca.
▲ THmi Mrrlr Teat ten ea«r in«ttr%

OW ri CMUM iMMlfM h iMn

Tartoi plante dadau MM «iMf^-

Tons tIom da m vie oato

Da Dtaa MM <Mk) : ^ol M hMtoft

Da pant amalr DIaa par aqiara.

Eseola fta da bonaa mora

EMampla fa da p^nltanM

8t dMtt BdM9Mn dlnoooaaaa.

Tt was imposBible that Elisabetb coald so derote herself
to the lore and serrice of her neighbour, if the charity of God
did not abound In and gorem her heart. To love her breth-
ren, as mneh and even more than herself, it was necessary
that she shOald lo\re God above ad things. Thas we see her
each day making new progress in this sublime science, each
day hamility, the earliest companion of her childhood, in-
creased in her soni and filled that holy dwelling in a wonder-
ful manner, according to the expression of one of her poetical
hiot^aphers. Each day, aided by this dlTine virtue, she
harncd better how to conqner 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 repoeo
and confidence in God, which the greatest sunts might envy.

To acquire and maintain this peace, she had no more eiH-
eacions and constant help than the faithfiil obserrsnce of tiM

tds

LIPB or ST. ILIZABBTB,

cotnmandmenta of the Charcb, and the frequent reception of
the saci amenta which that Mother, inexhaustible in bcnotits
offers to all her children. She often approached the Tabl<' (rf
the Lord and received the blessed Eucharist always witli the
greatest ievcren(;e and love. Elizabeth understood with all
the iuleliigence of faith, the ineffable value of these sacici
mysteries. She assisted at the divine Office with a resjHct
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 scv*
eral genuflexions unperceived, accompanied with earnest pia}'
ers, as it were secret communions with her heavenly Fiv
then

During Mass she testified by exterior humility the tender
gratitude which she felt towards the innocent and Supreme
Victim whose sacrifice was thus daily renewed. Obliged
from regard for her husband's presence, and not to scaudalize
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 Qospel,
andattheOonsecratioQ or CommuDion.

Now it happened one day that 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
uowned 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 wu^ dazzled by it, and until the Commauion he
found himself surrounded by a light radiating from her ai froii

OF BURaART.

168

die suQ. Filled with surprise, he returned thanks to God, for
having thus manifested, by a visible and wonderful light, th«
ituerior brilliancy of that holy soul, and he related afterwards
whiit he had seen.

Elizabeth most carefully observed the precepts of iha
Church in regard to its festivals. She sanctified the Lent by
prayers and abundant alms, and by fasting, though from thai
she was dispensed on account of her age. But no wordt
could express the fervour, the loTe, the pious veneration with
which she celebrated the holy days, whereon the Church by
her touching and expressive ceremonies reminds the ftiithful
(if 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
diiugiiter of the kings of Hungary took off all that could
reuiiud her of worldly pomp, clothed herself in the ordinary
dress of poor mendicants, and went to visit the Churches,
wearing a kind of shoes which seem to have been then worn
out 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-
fiion of cur divine Lord.

At the dawning of the morning of the Great Sacrifice she
nsed to say to her attendants, " This should be a day of hn*
in.liation to all — I wish that none of yon should pay me the
lotist respect"

Clad in the same dress as on the preceding day, and con*
fornnng in all things to the customs of the poor women of the
country, she nsed to carry under her mantle some parcels of
coiu'se linen, a little incense, and some small wax tapers, then
ilie went barefooted in the midst of the crowd to all the
C? ireboi^ an4 kneeling before each Altar, she Uid thereon a

164

I.IFI OF tT. tLIIABlTB.

I i I

packet of linen, some incense and a tap^r, after whicl^ il«
prostrated herself humbly and went on to the next. Whe>i
she had thus made the tour of the Chnrch she left it, and at
its porch she distributed large alms to the poor, but at they
did not reccfiise her, they crashed her pitiless^ as thvy
wooM any cc m?!N>n woman.

8ome p«.i9o ij at the Coart repfrored her for making on
these solemn occasions snch trifling oSertngs to the Churches;
they said that she who was a sotereig» Princess should set
an example of munificence, bnt 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 Qod 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. During the bsrmons, 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 iu the Cross and passion of Christ ; the
world was crucified to her and she to the world."

Qod, who has called himself a jealous (jk>d, did not suffer
that the heart of His servant should be engrossed by any
thought or affection purely human, bowefer legitimate it
i&ight have been.

A remarkable trait, related by the cihaptain Berchtold,
and repeated by all the historians, shows how far Elisabeth
tnd her husband carried these holy and tender scruples, which
Hn, ai it were, the perfuflMs ethaled from the soi^ of tht

OF BUVAAftT.

l«l

elect. In thf middle Ages H wai looked opoo m a wfy
import ant business to have one^ self blooded. When tho
operation was attended with saocess, soleom thankq^ving
was retomed to Ood, ond all the friends were inTited to
rejoice. Princes and nobles node it a pretext for ^ving
great banquets. For mairifd persons, and those betrothed,
tliere was a peculiar custon then existing. The young man
went to her he lored to ask her to pray that all might bo
well with him ; the betrothed maiden kissed and blessed the
wound. On one occasion Lonis and Elizabeth submitted tm
this operation at the same time, and, to celebrate it, the Dnk«
invited all the neighbouring nobility to share in the festirals,
which were continued for several days. On one of those daya^
as they all assisted at a solemn Mass in the chnrch 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 beaaty and amiability
which rendered him so dear to all.

Bat, coming to herself at the moment of the consecration^
the divine Spouse of her sonl manifested to her how tlieso
human considerations had offended Him ; for when the priest
elevated the sacred Host for tje people's adoration, she
thought she saw in His hands our Saviour crucified, with Hit
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, the Landgrave, doubtless aecostomed to
sec her wrapt in meditation, went ont with all his court, and
the remained alone aud thus prostrate until dinner-honr.

Meanwhile the repast prepared for the numerous guests
was ready, and none of the attendants daring to disturb the
Duchess at prayer, tho Duke himself went to call her, and
uid with great genUsneWi ** Dear sister, why oomest thoa Ml

.^Vf

If H

i*j

lee

Lirs or ST. ILIIABITI,

lo table, and why dost thoa make aa await thee for to lon^
a time V* On hearing his voice, she lifted up her head, and
looked at him without speaking, and he, perceiving her eyea
bloc'ilshot from the abundance and violence of bcr tears, ^as
troubled, and tiaid, " Dear sister, why lia^t thou wept so long
and so bitterly ?" He knelt by her 'Me, }\nd after friving
heard her story, he began to weep and p?ay w-'iih h f. } I ^ /ing
continued thus for some time he arose, piid said to Elizabeth,
*' Let us put our trust iu OA ; I will aid thee to do penance,
and to become better than thou arf But. as he a&v that
she was too sad to return to the court, he arose an^ went
to his guests, whilst the Duchess continued v > lanient heir

. This young and pious princess had then received from
Kea'ii? the Gift of Tears, — of those sweet and rcfresLiDg
t<;ai3, 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 a reverence the
divine tears that fell from the eyes of Jesus a^ the tomb of
his friend, apprtciated its virtue.

There were tears at the root of all the poetry acd all the
piety of the men of the middle ages.

This " Blood of the soul** as St. Augustine says. — ^thia
*' Water 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 sonls, a form of prayer< — an homagv
ftt once confiding and expressive — a tender and silent offering,
vhich united them to all the safferiAgs and all the merits of

Of mvumAMt,

joHxw Christ, and of the saints, and to the worship of tlio
Church.

Like the blessed Dotninick of Paradise, with their tears
they washed away the stains of tlicir souls — witn them, lilca
8t . Odile, they atoned for the sins of those they had loved io
tliis world ; collected by angels, who carried them to the foei
of the Father of Mercies, they were looked upon by Him aa
precious fruita of penance and holy love. And it was not
,■>[)! V weak women and ignorant people who thus experienced
tiie 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 theii 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 straggles. Later still, Richard Coear de Lion
wept bitterly at the sight of Jerusalem when he could not
save it ; and the confessor of St. Louis relates that, ** Wheil
they said in the Litany these words, ' Lord God, deign to
grant unto us a fountain of tears,' the holy king used to s'^y
devoutly, ' O Lord Qod, 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 bit
confessor that many times the Lord had given him tears at
pmyer, which, when he felt them flowing gently down his face
and entering his mouth, seemed to him most savoury an!
•weet, not only to the heart bat eren to the lips."

,!, I

1418

Hfl pw ft. •I.XtABBffBy

CHAPTER X

P I

■OW TBI DBAR ST. KLIZABKTH WAS KNOWN AJID CHmsmD BT Till
OLOKIOOS ST. rRAlfCa^ AND DOW SBM BAD fOB trVUtVAL BIBBOTOI
HASffBU OOKBAD Ot MABBUBO.

D* |Nrap«rtatts htrrMv

Banetiu Praoelseia Mtlst.

TwrlNun GhrisU flunelioMi!

la Tin ne defldnt

Itet pMdU, «d gloriMii,

Et VfUe vtam ■mpllat

pro paupertatls copU

Begnut dives in patiii^

Begos tfti subsUtuAMK \

QuM liic dItM lai^ia.

AntA4m from Frcmetaean Mrmitt u rffk

It seems to us, that what w« have already related of Eli»
abeth suffices to show the resemblance which existed between
her soul and that of the Qlorioos Poor One of Christ who
then iUnminated Italy with the rays of his miraculous power.
Ood willed not that this interior alliance slioald remain sterile
or unknown, bnt^ ob the contrary, that it phould be frnitfal in
coQsdation for His £uthfnl ielTTant, and in blessings for all
Germany.

A remarkable analog existed already between their ex*
torior lives. The year 130lr, tliat in which Elizabeth wna
bom in the midst of sovereign Teatbess, at Presburg, saw St.
Francis regenerated in God ; at the time that she, dangliter
of a i)Owerfal king and grand-daughter of Charlemagne, cam«
into the world surrounded by all the splendour of royalty, he,
the son of the merchant Bemardone, renounced his patrimony,
liB) family, his honour, for the love of God; beaten and imprit
oned by his lather, delivered froui hii bon4i by hit motlier^

07 BOVOART.

lei

tore, coTcred wHh mod, and panned bj the insulting ibontt
of his fellow-citizens, he took with him no second gannent,
bat went alone and poor to the conquest of the worid.

Elizabeth needed not this second birth ; from her cradle
she was prepared for hearen, and her innocent heart offered •
free and fertile soil for the seeds of strength and life, which the
hnnd 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 lllnstrious recipients.

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

After some years the commotion excited by the mission of
tills new Apostle in dormant and tepid souls became so gen«
oral, the change which it operated in all the social and private
rchitions of life so violent, that it became neceslhry to adopt
.Tionns to regulate and modify the power that God permitted
him to exercise.

In every town he encountered a crowd of husbands who
wislied to abandon their wives and children, and to consecrate
themselves with him to poverty and the preaching of the Oo^
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 otler 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

' ! i \

tirm Of IT. ILIXAIITR.

good works and pcnaoce, Christians engnged in domoitic life,
without severing any of the ties reudircd sacred by Go<l
At first he guvc liiis rule by word of mouth jo hevcral of the
faithful of l)Oth sexes, who hastened to put it in practice,
particularly in Florence and the neighbouring citief. £at.h
day these happy soub fclicitot«d themselves on being able,
e?cn out of the monasteries, to rcnouuco the dangerous joyi
and luzurieA of the world.

Francis, seein^ii;' the fcrronr and ever Increasing numbers of
the members of this association, gave them the name of "Th
penitents of ihe third ordet,*^ 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 hod 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 evfpy 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,
•nd 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
ansist at their obsequies. This rnle, as we see, established
bnt a kind of pious association or confraternity, but by no
a monaatic order. It was later that the third order,

ev mvwQkmr,

ITI

in ndoptiiig the custom of making tolema rows, took thk
latter form, which it itill ^ serfM io the countries whertio
it exists.

The immense and rapid pro)iagation of the irder of St.
KriinciR is one of the most remarkable and l^est i.nthenticated
U\it9 of this epoch, and we may b(*lieve that Uie Church owed
tliiH |)rogre88 to the association of the third order.

An infinite number of persons joined each day. Italy,
F ranee and Germany were successively invaded by this new
ariny. It should be recorded in the history of that century
tliat the enemies of the Church soon perceived the poworfol
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 Sponse 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 II. complained
publicly that he found in this third order a barrier to all hifl
projects against the Holy See ; and his Chancellor, Peter dea
Yignes, relates in his letters that all Christendom seemed to
have entered it, and that, owiQg to this institntion and its
progress, the power of heayen even in this world became more
formidable and advantageons than that of the earth.

It was in 1221, the same year in winch Bt Francis pab>
lished the rule of the third order, that hi^ reiigioAs were deci-
dedly established in Germany. Certainly they could nowhere
find more sympathy and encoun^ment than that given them
by the yonng and pious Dachess of Thnringia, for we find that
she showed them signi of a sealoos devotion and gave them

1 .' t!

■«•'

fttfl 9W IT. ILIlAOBTfl,

•n the help III hcf power. She hefcmn by f(wt;iinr h coovmi
•f PrnnoinrAns near her chnrch, in her capit»: ci;/, Eiacnaeli,
^n the entrance of these friani into Qermanj.

She afterwards appointed m her confeaiior brother Rodin*
ger, one of the.finit Germans who emiimccd the Seraphic
rnle, a reli^ioiui dintininiithed for hia leal, and who preaerred
towards her dnrinf? all her life a sincere attachment.

In these new relations, all she heard of St. Francis in
flftmed her yonn^ heart with an ardent admiration for him,
«nd an irresistible attraction to walk in the footsteps of this
eialted model of the virtues she loTed best. She chose him
thenceforth as her patron and spiritoal father.

Havinf( heard from hor Bew gncsts of the existence of the
. fhird Order in Italy, and in the other coantries througii
which the family of St. Francis had already extended, she
was strack 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 hnmbly begged permis-
sion of her husband to cause herself to be enrolled, and having
obtained this without difficulty, she hastened to oontract this
%rst link with the saint, who was so soon destined to see her
Teigning by his side in heaven.

She Iras the first in Germany who Was associated to the
Third Order. She observed its rule with scrupnlous fidelity,
«nd we may believe that th^ example of " sovereign placed
-•0 high by her rank and so renowned for her pietj, hod some
hiflncuce in the rapid extension of this institution.

Francis was soon informed of the precious conquest hii
-ffihnionere Bad made in the person of Elizabeth. He learned
At the same time her affiliation to the order, her atK'chment
•to lllf person, and the touching virtues by which she .4ified
land biessed Thuringia. He was filkd with gratitude and
wlmintioD, and often ^poke of her to the Cardmal F!roteo(«

Of ariroiftT.

171

of bi» Ofder, HugoUnn, nephew of Innocent III., tnd a^er
%\\riU ro|)e, uttder tbe name of Qrcgorjr IX. ThU latter,
M ho wa« defltiocU to watch orer the safetj of Klizubcth on
earth nud to consecrate her glorj in heaven, already filt for
lirr an affectionate interest, and this feeling must hare been
iiK reused by the sympathy he nnderHtood this young princes
(iitiTtulned for the Apostle, of whom he was himself tha
|.riiicipal supporter, as well as the intimate and tender (Viend.
Ill- also confirmed Francis in his kindly feelings towards her
Tliv excroplai7 humility of which this yonng princess was a
ii)(h1(>1, her anstere and fervent piety, her love of poverty,
often formed the subject of their familiar discourses. Ont
day, the Cardinal recommended the saint to send to the
I)ucheK8 some pledge of his affectionate remembrance, and at
the same time took from his shoulders the poor old mantle
wiKfcwith he was clad, and enjoined him to transmit it at
0!i:.'e 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 tbe services she had already rendered to the
Order. " I wish,'' said he, " that since she is ful! of your
tipirit, you should leave her the same inheritance as did Elijah
to Ills disciple, piseus." The saint obeyed his friend^ and
8011 1 to her whom he had so good reason to call his daughter
til is 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 ihiA gift, so precious in her eyes ; she showed thii
by the importance she attached to its possession. IShe dad
herself with it whenever she begged from our Lord any
6]>ccial favour, and afterwards, when she renounced all pri*
vate property, she still found means to preserve this de«r
mantle of her poor Father till her death, at which time sIm
left it as her moat precious treasure to a ftiesd. It wat §i

\ni

* H • \ [

S ) 111

174

LIFE or ST. XLIIABBTB,

terwardfl presefred with the greatest c«re, as a reHe doabl^
sanctified, by the Teutonic knights at Wesseinfels in the dio*
cese of Spires ; and brother Berchtold, a celebrated preaebrr
of that age, related to the judges on the occasion of Eliza-
beth's canonization that he had often seen and touched it
frith TCLcration, 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 t^ >
strength requisite to accomplish at a later period the brilliant
victories which God reserved for her over the world and her
own heai't.

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. Nevertheleg?,
when she had scarcely attained her seventeenth ye&r, the
good friar, Father Rodlnger, 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-
wrote to the Pope and begged from him a learned and en-
lightened guide for his wife. The Sovereign Pontiflf 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
«steem of the Clergy and of the faithful.

' He joined to vast learning, morals of exemplary pnrity, an<
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-
fioe ; tliis caused him to be set iown by many, as a member o'

or BUMOAST.

one of tl • mendicMit orders, though it appears more probable
:ltat he remaiaeil always a secular priest.

I [is exteiior was simple, modest, and even austere, his coa*
tuiue stiiclly clerical, his eloquence exercised a powerful iuflu*
enci? over souls, and an immense crowd of priests and laymen
followed wherever he turned his steps, to gather from his lipt
the bread of the divine Word.

lie everywhere inspired either love or fear, according as
he addressed fervent Christians or people already infer.ted
witti 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*
^M-es8 of the heresies of the Vaudois, of the Waldenses, or
poor men of Lyons, and others snch, which were then being
introduced into the countries beyond the Rhine, and which
proiiiised to the Church a repetition of the miseries of the
South of France.

He was also charged to preach the Crusades, and more
t)i!iii 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 functiohs, and he rendered himself fully worthy of
their confidence, by the persevering zeal and indomitably
courage which marked his career. During the twenty years
^t lasted, he allowed no opposition, however powerful it
mii^ht be, to obstruct him in the discharge of his duties.
Neither princes nor bishops, no more than poor laymen, could
escape his severe justice, when they seemed to him to deserve
punishment, and we may attribute to this absolute authority
.he great popularity he 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*
cess, since we find the violent death inflicted by those he pur

'III-

n«

LTFB Ot ST. ILI£ABCTil,

laed, did not obtain for him the high honotm granted by thf
Hoiy See to St. Peter Parentice and to St. Peter of Verona,
both of whom died at this time, like htm, martyrs to the faith.

Conrad, who was doabtless kiiown to Dnke Loois, befort
he was specially recommended to him by the Pope, soon ir
pressed him with so mncb confidence and veneration, that V,
a solemn act, scaled by him and his brothers, he inTeeted tliis
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-
dressed to him on the scrapuloas care he should use in the
exercise of a right so important to the salration of souls,
•'You commit a greater sin," said this zealous preacher 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 out 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
wcman 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
«Qt to meet him, and, throwing herself on her knees, said,
" My spiritual Father, deign to receive me as your child in
€lod. I am unworthy of yon, but I reconraiend myself U
fou oare through the lore yon bear to my brother.*

OT BUirOAKY

Conrad, feeing in this profoand bamililj la a joong aii4
p<iwerfal princess a ioreshadowing of the futore glory of her
goul, could not help crying oat, "O, Lord Jesus, what wonden
you work in the soals that belong to yon t*^ — and he sereral
times erincod the joy this meeting afforded him. He *3ecanie
lier confessor from this period, and devoted himself with his »
accustomed zeal to the cnltnre of this precions plant, whoso
growth he was charged to rear for heaven. Very soon, the
iiii^tinct of the spiritual life became so strongly developed in
Elizabeth, and her aspirations towards the highest perfection
became so freqaent, that Conrad found her one day (and this
he wrote hhnself to the Pope) in tears, and regretting that
her parents had destined her to marry, and that ttins she was
not free, in passing through this m<>riul life, to preserve the
flower of her virginity to offer it to God. One of her iiisto-
rians remarks, that, notwithstanding these feelings inspired
by lier 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 C-ocrad engaged her, gave it
his best assistance. He unhesitatingly permitted her to
promiso entire ol)edience to all her confessor prescribed, that
would not interfere with the just authority and rights of mar-
riage. She added a vow of perpetual liastlty, 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. Cati:< rine at Eisenach, whom she
loved particnlarly. She was at this time eighteen years old.

Elizabeth observed the vow of obedience with the ntmost
fidelity, and with that unreserved humility that never left
ber ; and she cheerfully offered to God the sacrifices t!;at
eost her most. We have seen with what scrupulous exact*
Qcss she submitted to the restrictions imposed upon her by
Master Conrad relative to the vhiuds nsed at the ducal table,
which, as we have before mentioned, he thought that the poii
8*

Ml!

if r
I :-

ITI

LIPS OV 8T. BLIZABITH,

people were unjastly taxed to provide. Faithful to the irv
flexible rigour of his character, and looking upon her as he
would upon any other Christian soul, he by no means sought
to lighten the yoke she had voluntarily assumed ; and ho
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, site
was engaged with her sister-?* n-law, the Margravine of Misnia,
who bad come to pay her a visit, and she did not comply with
bis invitation. Annoyed at her disobedience, and for her
having lost the indulgence of twenty days granted by the Pope
to all who should assist at 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 resolution, and to pardon her fault He re-
fused her at first, rudely ; at length she threw herself at \m
feet, and, after supplicating for a long tine in this posture, she
obtained his forgiveness ; but he imposed a severe penance on
her and her maids of honour, to whom he imputed a share in
her disobedience.

There remains to us a precious memorial of the spiritual
lirection which Conrad exercised over his illustrious peni-
tent, in the twelve maxims which he gave her, as the sum-
mary of her rale of life : these the chroniclers have carefully
preserved.

We transcribe them exactly, as being at once the faithful
expression of the motives that thenceforward governed her
life, and as the i)redictions or foreshadowinsjs of that glorious
destiny which she so rapidly and completely fulfilled :

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

2. QItc humility the first place in your heart.

8. Rer ounce human consolations and the pleasures of tbi

or acxoAtr.

lf»

4. Be merciful in all thingB to jour Deighboar.

5. Have always the remembraooe of God enshrined in jour
acnrt

0. Ketum thanks to the Lord for having bj his Passion ro*
deeiiM}d jou from hell and iroiD eternal death.

7. Smve God has done so macU for jou, bear the Crots ]>»> "^
iiently.

8. OonMC/ate jonrself entirely, body and sr^al, to Qod.

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

10. Pardon in yoor neighbour all that yon desire that he
ehonld forgive in you ; do for him all that you would wish he
Bhould do for you.

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 yorjr liiis, and pray Qod to fsigiTa
them.

180

LIFI Of ST. ILIIABITB,

CHAPTER XI.

■OW TBI LORD WAS k>LEASBD TO MAmrSST DIS fllUCV S fU
PEBSON OF THB DEAR SAIMT ELIZABETH.

, *4

" low BHMII till, DofBila*, flortpit ante te sleat intam.**

After having thas traced the general features of tlie
eharacter of Klik.abeth, daring ali the time of her anioii with
Duke Loais, we must return to the early years of her married
life, to relate some of the incidents which varied its aniform-
ity, and which were at the same time touching proo& of
God'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
Jilgypt, 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 l >q
of his court, who wer<i 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-Ghapelle, took the route to Thuringia, instead of
that of Francouia, and soon arrived at Wartburg. Tht
Landgrave received them with kindness, bat he just remem

Of BVll«Aftr.

181

borod that Mfl wife had no robes fit to itppcar in before htr
(riiots, as flhe had dread jr cot her wedding gannenta into
frTins more suited to her modesty, ana that there was not
time to order new ones. Full of uneasiness on this account,
III went to her chamber, and said, *' Ah, dear sister I here
liare |)eople just arrived from thjr father's court ; I am sure
t)i(y have come to learn what manner of life thou loadest
with me, and to see if thou hast really the retinue of a
PiK liess. But how canst thou appear before them ? Thou
art so continually occupied with thy poor ones, that thou
foru'cttest thyself; and thou never wishest to wear other
clotliis than those miserable enough to make us both ashamed.
What dislionour to nie, 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, aad now I have no time le|t
to order others more suitable to thy rank and mine.^

I>iit she replied gently, " M^ dear lord aad brother, lot
not tliis disquiet thee ; for I have earnestly resolved never U)
plui e my glory in my apparel. I can well excase myself to
tliese lords, and I will endeavour to treat them with such
gaiety and affability, that I will please theui m 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, slie went to jo;i: hex )mar
band and her father's ambassadors.

Not only did she enchant them by the cordiality of bw
welcome, the sweetness and gentleness of her manners, by h^
beauty that shone with a surpaiBsing brilliancy and freshnesfl,
nut to the great surprise of the Duke and to the admiration
of the strangers, she a]:^&rod clothed in magnificent silken
rohes and covered with a mantle of azure velvet embroidered
with pearls of great price. I'he Hungarians said that tke
Queen of France could not be more gorgeously attired, ilfter
i sumjktuoas festival the Duke endeavoured to retain

■P

iimu

i >

'V,ll

168

Liri OF tT. ILISABrTR,

gQcstd, bat thej excnsed themselves sajing that thctr con^
panion-pilgrims eoald not awBit them longer. He then \\n\
down with them to the city, defrayed all the expcnseb incurreti
by their foilowers. Aid •ceompanied them a certain distance on
their journey.

When he retamed he went qnickly to his wife, and a^kcd
her anxiously how came she to be thus clad. Elizabeth reitlcd
with a sweet and pioos smile, " Behold what the Lord can do
when lie pleases.''

Several authors r' late a different version of this miradr.
They say that when the virtues of Elizabeth were noisfd
abroad, a powerful lord (according to some it was the Emperor
himself) was travelling througlf 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, anless the Duke promised that he should see ar.d
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 speik to them. But according to
her custom she had given all her clothes and jewels to the
poor, so she sent secretly to her husband and begged him
humbly to excuse her for that time as she had not robes fit to
appear in before his guests. Tho stranger "till insisted ; Louig
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, " J will go and
do as you will, for it would be wrong of me to contradict you
in any thing ; I am yours, my lord, I have been givttn to you.
I have always loyally obeyed you, and henceforth I will al>u
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, swutt

»'- OF BUNOART.

988

Consoler of the poor, and of all who are in trottble, friend and
ktiru lii>I|H?r of all who trast in Thee, come to tht' assiatancit
of thy poor servant vrho haa despoiled hersi^lf of uU her rich
rniiiuiit for the love of TUec." Immediately an angci ap»
j ) iind and said to her, " O noble spouse of tho ling of
Tiirailisc, behold what God mndh thee from heaven saluting
theo with tender affection ; thou sbalt invest thyself with thif
utaitt!o, and thou shalt place on thy head this crown as a sign
of thy eternal glory." She thanked God, put on the crown
ami nmutlo, and went to the banquet hall. On seeing her so
ri( hly-robed and beautiful, all the guests were wonder-stricken,
for iier face shone like that of an angel. She sat in the
niiilst of them and saluted them with cordiality and gaiety,
then .«he spoke to them with words sweeter than honey, in such
bort that they felt themselves more nourished by her dis-
course than by all the dainties of the feast The stranger,
eiiciuiiitcd at having seen this Elizabeth whom he had so long
(lisired to know, took his leave ; the Duke accompanied him
a part of the way, and then quickly returned to his wife and
Hsked whence had she such royal attire. She could not con-
ceal it from him. "Truly," said he, "our God is indeed
wonderful 1 There is pleasure in serving so bounteous a mas-
ter wlio come so faithfully to the assistance of his own ; for my
part i wish to be, henceforth and for ever, more and more hifl
servant."

In the following year (1222), according to the invitation
hrought in his name by the ambassadors of King Andrew,
Duke Louis accompanied Elizabeth to Hungary. He con*
lidnd the care of his territories during his absence to the
( Omits de Muhlberg, de Gleichen, and others. He was at*
tended on the journey by Counts de Htolberg, de Schwarta-
liiiiif de llesenburg, de BeUihlingen, and a crowd of nobles,
luiiOM^rst wliom we remark Rodolplie dM Varila, son of th«
Lord Gaultier who bad brought Elliiabeth from Hungar|

ijji* '

LI7B OF ST. lllBAVITir,

doven yt^m hefoTf*, and who eaoceeded htt father, not c^U ii
hiB office of great cap'boarcr, bat •liio in his toffti dcvoti ti
the Diiclx <t. Elizabeth was attended by the wWen of all tht
lordi we ImTe meotioiied, and by a grrat namber of nol le
dames Itid muideiit.

King Andrew receiTed hif daughter and his ton-in-law -iritb
lively joy ; they remained a long time at hi« coart, and assistf^d
at many festivals and tournaments, io which *^^e Thnriii<rian
knights distinguished themselves partiuularl , Tliey w^re
also present at King Andrew's marriage wi^a Tolandu de
Ooartenay, daughter of the French emperor of Oonstantinoplp,
whom he chose as hie second wife. On this occasion the king
loaded them with presents, and gave them predous stones of
the greatest value. All the knights, and their ladles, and a!{
the attendants, even to the lowest domestics, received rich
gifts. He had also constructed a wagon of peculiar form, to
eontain all the gold and jewels his daughter was to bring buck
with her.

Boforo the time of departure, the king gave a great hnnt-
inir i.>«rtv, knowing that Duke Louis loved the chase. Aftor
this the/ separated, and the Duke brought back his wife,
together with his suite, and bis new riches, happily to
Thnringia.

Soon after this time, the Duke gave fits 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' Wartr
burg a great feast, to which he invited all the coii*4s, and
the leading nobles of his duchy, with their wives. As they
were going to table, they remarked the absence of the 7 ^chess,
who bad not come, according to custom, to wash h^ hands
with her gaests. They all declared they would not cP*Qmence
■ntil the Duchess came.

Jlieaiiwhile Elieabetb, In oomkig from the char&> *o thi

or auMOAftr.

189

hni;r|i:ei h«U, saw lying on the lUir ttepi a poor mat) almoiit
it.ik.d, tind looking lo lick aud weak that aht wa« aiituui)»kcd
hi)w liu bad Btreogth eooagb to ascend from tiio city to tba

Wiieo he perceif ed her, he begged aome almi In honour of
(i.ri^t. She answered (hat «be had iM>t at that time anything
to >,Mv«, but that she would send him some food from her
tal)le. But the poor man insisted loudly that she should give
Ihiii something at once ) and the DucbcM, conquered by her
pity, look off the precious silker >tlc with wluch sho was
covered, and threw it to the The latter took it,

rolkd it up hastily, and disuppea iiutcly. Elizabeth,

who })ud now but her robe witlu.ui iho mantle, (which was
entirely contrary to the custom of the time) dared not enter
the banquet-hall, but rnturued to her chamber, where she r^
eoiiiinended lierself to Qod. But the scueschal, who hud seen
all tlmt had passed, went at ouce to relate it to tho Duke b^
fdHi all his gucHts. " i>ecide, ray lord," said he, "if what our
luost <kur lady the Duchess has just done is right. Whilst
so many nobles are here awaiting her, she is occupied ia
clothing the poor, and has just giren her mantle to a beggar*
man." The good Landgrave said smilingly, " I will go aud
»>e( 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 aud dine with
us ? wc 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,
'• wliere is the mantle thou hadst when going to the Church V*
" I have given it away, my good brother," said Elizabeth,
" but, if it is pleasing to thee, I will go as I am." At theat
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 immof

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diately returned with tuO tame mantle tbe poor man liai)
taken awaj. Elizabeth kuelt a moment, and thanked Oinj
hastily, then she went to the feast Kith her htMbniid
Whilst all the gnests, ^nd particularly the Duke of Aiistra
and his yonng wife, were enjoying themseWeA, the Landgrart
Louis was serious and recollected, for he thought in his luart
of the numerous graces that God had conferred on his dear
Elisabeth.

'* Who can doubt,'' says one of her pious and simple histo
iians, "but that it was an Angel that brought back the ronn.
tie, 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 fiiith, more than
Solomon in all his glory." '

' But God granted to this noble and pious couple a grace
itill sweeter and more dear to their hearts. The most pre-
cious blessings of the married life could not be refused by tho
Almighty to these spouses, who afforded to all the model of
a Christian union. He gave to his faithful servant the gift of
l^uitfulness, as it were, to recompense even here below tlie
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 Crentzbnrp:, on the Werra, some leagues from Eisenach,
where she was far more tranquil than at Wartbnrg, which
iras 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 tlie
Annunciation of our Lady, she brought forth her first-born.
Hie Duke had not been able to leave Marburg, and it was
there announced that a ton was bom to him. Louis, over

r.-f

OV HV««4BT.

jo;0(1, richly rewarded the miesecnger, and set oal at ot.ce to
r<-joiii the joaoj^ mother ; be arrived time enough to see the
iliilil baptized, and gafe him the mime of Hermann, in m»
niory of his father. To manifest the satisfaction which th*
birth of this son c&osed him, Louis had a stone bridge erected
to replace the wooden one that led to the dtj of Creati*,
buri;. This bridge still exists, with a beaatifal Qothie
chapi'l dedicated to St. Liborios. A year after, 1224, tha
Diuhess ga?e birth to a daughter, who was named Sophii^
after the Duchess-dowager. This child was bom at WarV
l)urir, from which the Duke did not wish Elizabeth to remove.
It) after years she was married to the Duke of Brabant ; and
the members of the present house of Hesse are reckoned
ainon<^t her descendants. Elizabeth had two other daugh-
ters, one named also Sophia, and the third, born after her
father's death, Qertrude — both were consecrated to Qod
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
08 slie 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 cu»
toin, the occasion of feasting and worldly rejoicing, she took
her new-bom infant in her arms, went out secretly from the
castle, clad in a phiiu woollen robe, and barefooted, and
diroeted her steps towards a distant church, that of St.
Ciitlierine, outside the walls of Eisenach. The descent waf
loii? and toilsome, the path covered with sharp thorns, bj
which her feet were torn and bruised. On the waj she
herself carried her infant as the spotless Tirgin had done.
When arrived at the church she laid it on the altar, with a
taper and a kunb, saying, " Lord Jesus Christ, to yon and tt

tin 99 at. BKIlAaBTB,

1; fj

fcm dear Mother Mary, I ofl^ thfai elieriihed froit of my
wonb. Behold, my God and my Lord, I gire it with all mi
heart, such ai yoa ha?e giren it to me ; to jon who arc tli«
MTereign and most loving Father of the mother and the
oHild. The odIj prayer I make yoa te«day, and the only
grace I dare to reqaeet, it that it may pleaae yoa tc rtceiv«
this little child, all bathed in my teari, into the number of
your wrranti, and yomr fHenda, and to ghv it your Loli
hoBedietioor

•V BVtfftABt

CHAPTER XH

mom tarn dokb kouu raarwcm bb mob raoPbB

*IAMilktt |«Bp«rMi »

•OiM«

4m: taialMMl'
npliuun."— A. 1U> 11*

•Indntwcft jatttttoai ferki^ at fdMsaattotai
■Mads olUonii, «t opertos cat qoaal paltto mN.
"Qals cfB Dotniniu, dfilgeot Jadteium tt odlo

I1L8L

In the Urea of these holy spouses, all tends to demonstratB
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 <^ her soul, io
solacing the woes of the unhappy who came within the sphere
of her labours^ we have now to sho^v how Louia oonse-
crated his courage and military talents to the defence of tha
interests of the people whom God committed to his caroi
The innate love of justice that we have already mentioned aa
one of his leading virtues, endowed him with so de^p a senaa
of the rights of his subjects, and so generous a sympathy
for them when their just privileges were invaded, that these
sole motives frequently urged him to distant and expensiv<i
expeditions, the provocations to which profoundly astonbhed
his neighbours and his vassals. Thus in 1225 the Puke
learned that some of bis subjects who traded with Poland
tnd the other Sclavonian nations, were attacked and robbed
Dear the castle of Lnbantsk, or liUbitz, ia Poland. He re-
qaested the Duke of Poland to make restitution to these ui|>
fortanates, and this was refuted.

Then he convoked for the Feast of the Dispersion of tkt

LIFI 07 BT. SLISABITB,

r '

1-1

Apostlcflf (io the ancient calendara this is marked for 15th
July), a considerable army, consisting of Hessians, Thorio.
gians, Franconians, and the Knights of Osterland. He lid
this army secretly to the banks of the Elbe, without annouiio
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 gomg 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
upt understand why he would undertake so much for an
alTair between common merchants. As he would not change
bis purpose on account of their remonstrances, many of thqm
wished to withdraw, bat shame, and perhaps a fear of hia
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 as
pioneers, who arrived at Lubantek three days before him.
They bunded the city and besieged the castle whilst awaiting
him. The Dnke of Poland was extremely surprised to leara
that the Landgrave of Thnring^ had come such a distance
at the bead of so powerful an army to invade his country,
and sent him offers of pecuniary satisfaction ; but Louis re-
ptilsed them, saying, that these terms should have been made
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 be did not return without delay,
the Duke of Poland would come on the following Mondaj
irith his army, and exterminate aU the Germani.

OF RUVVART.

-m

To this Um LandgrtTe repUod, that he would be delighted
to luake acquaiutance with the Dake, and that be wooM
reitiAin eight days after the appointed Monday, to we what
lort of people were these Poles.

But neither the Duke nor his Poles appeared, j^ftei
lonie assaults the Castle surrendered, and Louis, after razinfi
it to the ground, returned home, leaving throughout all easl>
ern Germany the most favourable opinion of his justice, coo-
ragc, and love of the p 'opie.

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

Two or three years before, at the annual fair at Eisenach.
as the Duke descended to the dty, and amused himself ia
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 Duke
asked him if he were able to make a Uvelihood 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 trader
and even inanage 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 himj
** Well, I will grant thee a passport for a year ; thou shall
pty neither taxes nor duties throughout the extent of my
dominions. How much is thy pack worth 1" ** Twenty shil-
lings/' said the pedlar. " Give him ten shillings,'' said the,
Prince to Iris treasurer, who accompanied him, ** and make
him out a passport with my seal affixed." Then turning t»
wards the pedlar he $aid to him, ''I widi to engage m hatf"

hlWm or ST. ■LrSABITB,

.■ 1

of tbj boiitMi; promiie me tbol thoa wDt bt a fiiltliftil part
ner, »tid I will keep thee from all hann." The poor pedlai
wag orerjoyed, and went hii way with fbU ooafideooe of rimv
rcRs. On the retarn of the new jear, be came to meet hit
noble aaaoeiate at Wartbnrg, and showed him hit pack,
which was much enlarged. The Landgrave took some little
•Mtters^ which he gave to hie ier?anta On each New Tear*!
daj the pedlar returned to Wartburg to inform the Princ«
of the state of hin funds, which soon became so considerable,
and his wares so many, that he coald no longwr carry them
on his back ; so he pnrchased an ass, mode two bales of hit
merchandise, and each time performed jonmeys longer and
pore profitable.

Now it happened that towards the end of the year 1225,
the pedlar went to Veoioe, and pnrehased there a quan*
tity of rare and preoions matters^ laigo rings, bracelets and
brooches, orowna and diadems of jewels, cope and minon oi
Uunty^ knives, adders' tongoee, rosaries of coral, kf^ And m
he was preparing to retnm to Thuringia, in order to be at
Wartbnrg; as was his wont, on New Year's day, he arrived
•t Wnrtjaborg in Franconia, where he exposed his wares for
sale. Certain Franeonians, 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
Ihny watched for the pedlar's departure, and went some
distacce from the city to lie in ambush fbr him ; as he passed
they roshed upon him, and carried oiT hit ass and his mer-
ahandisok

It was in vain that he d&owed 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 dificttlty he escaped from their hands. He went io
sadness to Eisnnach to seek his sovereign and associate, and
9Med to him his miiAirtnna. '< My dear partner,* aaid ths

,1|T OF Biir«ARr.

good prince raiiliDg, " be not so troubled at the \<m of our
goods ; have a little patience, and leave ma the care of
fteking them." Immediately he couf okcd the coonts, knights,
•nd .squires of the neighboarhood, and e?en the peasants, who
fought on foot, pat himself at their head, entered withoal
diliiy into Franconia, derastating the conntry to the g^tesof
Wiirtzbarg, inquiring eTcrywhere for his ass. On hearing
of this iA^asion, the Prince Bishop of Wnrtzbnrg sent to ask
him what he meant by such coniduct The Duke replied thai
be was seeking a certain ass of his which the bishop*s nsen Lad
BtolcD. The prelate had restitution made to him at once fof
the ass and the baggage, and the good Duke returned home
triumphant, to the great admiration of the poor people, whoso
tealous defender he was.

But whilst he was thus occupied he receired from tha
Emperor Frederic II. an inritation to join him in Italy. He
6et out immediately, and crossed the Alps before the end of
winter. He went with the Emperor through all the campaign
agaiust 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 investitiire of the Margravate of
Misnia, in case the posterity of his sister Judith, widow of tho
late Margrave, became extinct, and also that of all the country
he could conquer in Prussia and Lithuania, whither he ente^
(aincd the project of going to extend the ChristiMi fiidth.

Lua

%i\

CHAPTER XIII.

■

! '

■OW A aUAT rAMINI DSTA8TATKD TnUKIHOU, AND HOW fBI Dlil
n. BLUBABSTII PRAOTISBD ALL THB WOIIKS OF MSRUJ.

**lnirtv1, al 4«dittto nllil iimda«u«; %MrU et dadlttla nilhl bllert; boapM rr»m
•I «oll«fMla in«; niidiu, ct eoopcrnlstto m*; lBlnnii% H vMtaMls w* la aarcffi
«aa,«tvralttiBadaM." AifattnT.J

SoARCBLT had the Duke set out under the imperiAl banner,
when a frightful famine overepread all Germany, and pArti<;u-
larly ravaged Thuringia. 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-
roured 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 siirlit
of so much misery, Elizabeth^s heart was filled with piiy.
Henceforward her only thobght, her only occupation, by night
and by day, was the relief of her unhappy people. The
castle of Wartburg, where her hui^band 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 certaio
properties.

Then she caused all her husband's granaries to be <4>ened,
and notwithstanding the opposition of the officers of tbt

OV a.llOART,

loe

lioiischold, ihtt gare all the grain thcj contained, without anj
K-sci-ve, to the poor. There was so moch in store, that ao*
coriliiig to contemporary writers, to boy the quantity of corn
ihiis disposed of, the two greatest castles, and several -ciUea
of the duchy should be put in pledge. Blixabeth knew how
to unite prudence with this boundless generosity. Instead of
gi\iii^ out the com in great quantities, in which it might bo
wasted, she diitribated erery day to each person the portion
requisite for sustenance.

Id order to aToid all unnecessary expense, she had every
day, as much bread baked at the castle as all its o/ens 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 tho
mountain on which the ducal residence was situated, and it
was for these that Elizabeth redoubled her care and compaa*
lion during those awful times. To the weakest she daily
carried the remains of her repasts aud those of her maidensi
and their scanty meals were almost untasted through * fear oi
lesseniDg 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 soonef
iras one poor person dead, than his bed was immediately occa
pied by some newly-admitted patient.

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

Twice every day without fiiil, at morn and at eventida^
tie young Duchess descended and reascended the toilsome
road from Wartburg to these houses, regnixllesa of tha
fatigue she thereby enduredi in order that she might visit ^'

tIFI OV ST. BLItABITR,

|. '

peer onef, sod rsrrj to tbeai all that wodd bt Meftil fm
Iheir manU. When arriTed at thaae niijrlana of miicry, t^ht
aaed to ^o from bed to bed, Mkliig all what thej wialied for,
Ad iierforming for each lerfiixs the mott repolsire, with i
acal and tcndernesn which the lofe of Qod and hia npceiiU
grace otone could inspire. She fed with her own baodi tlio^e
whoie maladies were moit aerere ; ahe made their beds,
railed and carried them oo bar back, or in her armi, to I:iy
them on other coaclies ; ahe washed their facea with her own
reil, and did all with a gaietj and amenity that nothin;,'
BOold alter. Thongh she had a natural repognance to hud
air, and it was generally most trying to her, alill she would
^main in the midst of the mephitic atmosphere of the sick
wards, even during the summer heats, without expreasing
the slightest dislike, thongb her attendants could not endure it,
bat often murmured loudly.

Elizabeth founded in one of these hospitals an asylum fur
deserted children, or oiphans; these were the objects of lier
special tenderness, and she lavished on them the most alfeo
tionate care. 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, Afamma / Mamma/ Siio
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 repubive, by taking theoi on her knees and fondly
caressing them.

Elizabeth waa not only the benefactresa of these pooi
people, but also their firiend and confidant. One poor sick
man related to her privately that his conscience waa bmrtbened
with the remembrance of a debt he owed. She quieted him
by promising to discharge it herself, which she immediately
^. Tha time that she could spare from the 9*iperiateadaviS

Of BOVSAAV,

Itf

it (hMe hotp^Ult she cnplojed io fUiing th« toburbt of
'A'lirtburg, in diitribaiiug profiiioui and ittutance to tht
(KK)r who could uot come to the cafltle, in •ntchog tkc poo
ivst cubing, and perforniiug for their imnatef officoa the loworA
gild iD08t beoeath her rank. One day iha went into the hot
of a side womuD who wat alone, and who begged plaintif elj
fur 80tae milk, sajing that she had not Boflicient itrengtb
to go and milk her cow ; immediately the honible princcM
entered the stable aud set about milking the cow, but the
aniiual, little accnstomed to be touched by such delicate
buiiils, would not permit her to aooompliah her benefolent
uitentiou.

Elizabeth loved to attend the poor in their agony, in order
to asHuage their pains, to receive their last sigh with a kiss of
liuterly charity, to pray to Qod fervently during entire hoort
to sanctify their deaths, aud to receive their souls into Ilii
glory. She most faithfully continued her custom of watching
the obsequies of these lowly ones ; and, notwithstanding the
increase of mortality, she was seen continually following their
remains to the grave, after seeing tliem enveloped in cloth
woven by her own hands for this purpose, or else chosen from
her owp garments, as she frequently cut up the large white
veil which she was in the habit of wearing. She could ao|
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 an4
tbc new should be given to the poor.

Neither did poor prisoners escape her solicitude. She
▼isited them wherever she heard of such being confin%Nl ; with
money she delivered those detained for debt ; she cleansed
and anointed the wounds produo^d by the chains on thf
others ; and then, kneeling by their sides, she would with
them beg Qod to watch oy]^,,«j^ ^ {ffeserve them from a|
fature pain or pnniihmeBt

1»6

IIFB OV ST. BLISABBTB,

All these occapations, so calculated to fill the soul with
fatigue, disgust, aod impatience, insptrwd her with celestial
peace and joy ; whilst she poured forth on her poor brethreo
the riches of her charity, her heart and mind were frequeutlj
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 thonght
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 proTe to simple and faith*
ful souls how agreeable to God were the charity and humility
ot this princess. One day when she had bought in the oit^
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
earned 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
groip of mendicants, she saw with uneasiness that she had
uot a sufficient quantity to give some to each, and that every
moment more supplicants arriTed. She then began to pray
interiorly while distributing the food, and fonnd that, accord*
ing as she gave pieces away, they were replaced by others,
■0 that after giving each beggar his share there was stiU lome
left. She returned to the castle, singing with her companions
Ihe praises of God, who had deigned to communicate to
her hi» all-powerful virtue according to his formal promise :
" Amen, amen, I say to you, he that believeth in me^ the workt

Ikat I dit, he aUo thaii h, and grtakr Aon iktte $haU h$
dor'—t'L John xiT. 12.

It n AS not only on the people in the neighbourhood of hef
rcsi(len<e that Elizabeth layished her care and love. The
inhabitants of even the most distant p>*rts of her husband's
doiuiuic 18 were equally the objects of her sorereigu and ma>
ternal solicitude. She gave express orders that the revenuef
derived by Duke Louis from Thuringia, Hesse, the Palatinates
of S ixe and Osterland, should be exclusively consecrated to
the 1 elief and support uf the poor whom the famine had left
with jut resources, and watched the exact execution of this
order, notwithstanding the opposition of the officers of the
D\ike. Yet to satisfy still further for the want of her pei^
tonal 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 coi^
tinued until the harvest of 1226 ; then the Duchess assembled
all the poor who were able to work, men and women ; she
gave tb 3m new clothes and shoes, that their feet might not
be wounded or torn by the stnbble in the fields, and set them
ill 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
bands, ind bade these poor ones an affectionate farewell,
giving ilso to each a small sum of money ; and when her
money f liled, she took her veils and silken robes, and divided
tbem ajaongst the women, saying to them, " I do not wish
that yoa should retain these matters for dress, but that yoQ
should %11 them to satisfy your wants ; and also that y^q
should labour according to your strength, for it is written^
' Tha '. he who toorku not, eait noL" ** Qui no i IcAorai non
mui dutety

\ poor old woman, to whom the Duchess had given %
ihesif e, shoes, and a cloak, was so r^oiced, that, after crying

ftiri OF 8T. BLIfABKTB,

•at that she was neTer so happy hi her Hfe, she spooned
awajr as one dead. The good Elizabeth hastened to ruiai
her, and reproached herself as having sinned in endaogermg
by her imprudence the life of this woman

We haTe visited with a tender respect and scrupoloos cart
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 magniG*
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 npon 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 ! 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 csstld of Wartburg, the remembrance of Lu<
ther, of pride revolted and victorions, has dethr^ed 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 heresiarch. But the site of the hospital which
she had erected at her palace-gates, that she m'ght never
fbrget human miseries in the splendour of her rank, has been
left to her and pi*e8erves heir name. An hundred years after
her de^th, ita 1881^ the hospitfkl ^as replaced by a convetit of
Fninciscans, founded in her honour by the Landgrave Fred-
crick the Serious, At the Reformation it was suppressed,
ittd the seventeen other convents and churches of Eisenach
wore destroyed and pillaged in one day, whilst the priests and
itioiiks walked two and two, chaunting the Te Deum, heed
llii of the clamour cf the populace. The foondation of th«

«T HURQAmT.

Benefactress of the coQDtry was not more respected, end the
itoues of it were employed to repair ' ^ fortifications of the

wife tie.

But there remains a fountain of pmt and sparkling water,
6o\uDg into a massive basin hoUowed pat of the rock, witn-
oiit any ornament saving the wild flowers and greensward
siirronndiof it. This was where EJisabetli washed 4h« liasii
of the poor, and it is still called "Elizabelh^i Founlain.^ Ail
aroand is a bashj plantation which hides this place from the
greater nomber of the passers-by ; there are also some traces
of a surrounding wall, and the enclosure is called by the peo-
ple ''Mizabeth'a Garden."

Further still to the east, at the foot of the mountain oa
which Wartbourg is built, between it and the ancient Car-
thusian monastery, consecrated to our Saint in 1304, may be
fieen a lovely valley watered by a peaceful stream running in
the midst of fields variegated with ro^es 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 acd
lonely spot wherein is a poor cabin, and where formerly thero
was a chapel It was here Elisabeth received the poor,
Qod's friends and hers ; it was here she came, tender, ing»>
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 ,prevoi|t
the remarks of men. Thi3 solitigry spot |s still called the
^'Field of LiUes;'' this humble cabi^ the *' Btpotfi nf *M
?0Qt^ and the valley formcrij bore the sweet bmm of
"* £UBabeth*s ValltgJ'

•tif..

Lira OF It. ILlSABItBa

CHAPTER XIV.

■ow tmn unm rkturivkd to his wira, akd now ns mmviin

TftUB JVSnCB TO BI8 0£AB MONU OF RBTNHABTSBEUn .

Confldit In M oor tM mL— Prov. xzxi fl.

** In tribna plucituni eet spiritul meo. Ooaeardlt fratram, ct amor pros-inona,
tl Tir et mailer bene sibi consentienteik**— Jbo<M. xxt. 1, %.

Louis, informed no doabt of the woes that afflicted hia
people, demanded and obtained permission from the I mperor
to return to his dukedom. He set ont on the 23d of Jane,
1226, and arrived at Cremona on St. John's eve, just as the
people were kindling \he fires on the surrounding heights.
After haying happily crossed the Alps, he took up his quar-
ters with a prince, not named by historians, but who was hia
near relative and friend. He was received with ceremony
and magnificence ; and after snperb 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, the lord de Tarila,
''Take away thi^ young woman quietly, and give her a mark
">f silver wherewith to buy a new mantle, that want ma^* not
i^^ain urge her to expose herself to sin. I say unto thee in
all sincerity, that even if adultery were not a sin before God,
uora scandal in the eyes of my fellow men, I I'.ould never
consent to it, solely through love for my dear Klizabeth, and
fear of saddening or troubling her soul.''

The next morning, as the prince jested with him on thii
•object, Louis replied, "Enow, my cousin, that to obtain
7*

OF BUXlART.

8<NI

the whole Roman empire I would not commit mich a sin."
Then coatiuoing bis journey he arriTed at Angsboorg on the
2(1 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 his
court. Having succeeded in this, he set out for Thnringia
and passed the Mein at Schweiufurt, where he was received
v^ith great honour by the burgesses ; but after supper he was
warned that Count Poppin, his deadliest enemy, intended to
(surprise and attack him during the night. To avoid this
diinger he set out immediately, travelled all night, and arrived
at Wartbnrg next day, which was on Friday about the hour
of Nones.

The news of the approach of the beloved prince had filled
all Thurlngia 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 Qod and 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 prmcipal officers of his household, particularly the Se-
neschal and the Marshal, 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*
Dounced to him what they denominated the reckless expendi-
ture of the Duchess; how she had emptied the granaries o(
Wartburg, and used all the money left in their care, notwith*
standing their eflforts to prevent her. These complaints hut 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 T Then

104

Lii'B or 8T. BLIKADRTH,

b« added, ** I wish that you would allow niy good little Ei)7j»
beth to give as muoh alma aft the pleaftcft, and that yoo woul^i
rather assist than contradict her ; let her give aa much as sin
wisbet for Ood's sake, provided ouly that th% leaves me Eise<
nacli, Wailburg, and Naumburg. Gkxl will return the rest
wlun he thinks it good. We shall never be impoverished l>j
alrr.s-iJccds."

He then hastened to meet his beloved Elizabeth. When
she saw hira 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 iiis
embrace, " what has^ become of thy poor people daring this
bad year V She replied gently, " I have given to God what
belonged to Him, and God has taken care of what belonged
to thee an-] 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 npon it. Then having sent the Seneschal
to see whence it came, the latter replied that the presses were
80 full of com that the grain ran over and cohered the ground.
Then Louis and his wife blessed God. The lord de Tarila
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 knt.., and said, ** Lord, I am not
worthy to have so good a husband ; but aid us both to
observe thr sanctity of marriage, so that we may live eter-
nally in Thy presence."

No sooner had he returned to his dominions, than thia
noble and pious prince occupied himself in considering the
Interests of his subjects. Whilst he watched with prudence
and intelligence over the impcrtant negotiations, with which,
notwithstanding his extreme youth, the Emperor intrusted
him, he hiA always his sword at hnnd to protect the lionki
■od the poor.

Even while lerring as a niedifttor between the Kmperar
an i Ottoc&r, King of Bohemia, and treating uf a marriage
iM'ivvecn the danghtcr of this soTereign and Henry, the young
king of the Komans, he went throngh his dominions to dit*
rover and to repair any wtonge committed towards the po^
poople during his absence. BeTeral nobles of Ostertand, « bo
lind oppressed their tmmiIs and disturbed the public peaoa,
took to flight on hearing of his coming ; he occupied their
fiistles, and completely destroyed those of Suits and Kal-
iKMiriick. *

Louis Went as soon as possible to visit his dear monks of
Uejnhartsbrunn. 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 mona^
tory, on the mountain called Aldenberg, which governs the
valley wherein the monastery was situated, and tha^ he had
'tliereon built a fortification from which he continually annoyed
the religions and their people. It was on Saturday evening
that Louis arrived and heard this complaint. He wrote at
once to the Seneschals of Wartbnrg 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 beard* a low mass,
and told the Abbot not to carry his cross, nor to permit high
mass to be sung nntil 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, aad
tlie lord of Saltza himself taken prisoner. The Duke had
hini brought on foot to the Abbey. As soon as they arrived
tlic cross Wds carried out, and the usual procession for mail
formed, #btHlt the usurper-knight and his soldiers were led li
ehains before the cross. The chanter entoned the vene s '

t
.i

toe

LI]

li.?

tod all the religious responded —

•*Ib toMblo vMotls inui dtqiMiM tahnloM toMi*

After Moss, the Duke made the lord of Saltza swear thai
ko would renooDce every ulterior proceeding against th«
■onastery, 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 anj
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 g^ing 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. Wlieo
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-bom 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^ay, 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, snid,
" 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 fh>m his
own purse even to the last farthing.

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

o^ aos«ABT.

S07

ktionn to Loafs that certain honourabit pt^ypU of Franconia
iiad carried away from htm a hogshead of whie and six horses.
The Dulce sammoned them to make immediate restitution of
the stolen goods ; and as his command was suffered to remain
niiheeded, he entered Franconia at the head of an army,
ravaged the possessions of the gp^iltj partj, and obliged th«
latter to come in their shirts, with ropes around their necks,
nil) I barefooted, to make an apology at the conrent. He
n liiiscd them, after making them agree to send to the monks
a great quantity of the best wine and seyeral 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
if sse and Thuringia also went there, guided by the examplr '
of their Duke Louifs who brought with him his Elisabeth ac-
companied by a numerous court One circumstance whicl
well depicts the manners of the age renders this meeting re
markable.

A Thuringian knight, renowned for his valour and pietj.
Walter de Settlcstoedt, a friend of Louis, and one of the officers
of his household, followed his sovereign ; ho 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
aprainst all comci^s, 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, on
the contrary, Lord Walter was victor, the vanquished should
offer the lady a gold ring. At every halt made by the lord
of Settlcstoedt, there were strifes amongst the knights for the
honour of tilting against him. To restore peace, he wai
j1)ligcd each time to point out him whom he selected to be
his adversary. He thus travelled to Mersebourg and back

IffK'

tIFI OF tf. ILIIABITH,

•gain withoot tjvr being conqaered, and on rensntering Thoi
ringift, his fair attendant had on each finger of both hands a
ring paid by a fanqoished knight Lord Walter offered these
ten rings to the ladies of honour of the DacL«aB Elizabeth,
at which they were maoh nijoiced, and with their royal mi»
tnm ihf&j returned him hearty thanks for his geasiosilj.

CHAPTER XT.

low m oooD Dtnn Loun took up thi ommi, Am or nn oiiAt

ORIBF WBUKWITB 11 lADI rABBWBLL VO HIS WBaKM, MU
f AllILT, AMD TBI DBA! lAVT BLIZAnTK.

"OMatntM M altaratrani fl«T«raat pflritor.**— 1 JUtg, n. 41.
* Qno abut dUMtnt taiu^ o piildi«rriiiui m vllcnun f Quo dMllMTlt dllMtM f"

OlMltT. IT

•Sodotbon dtQlMTBto partwfthABMMMrjnd Wlorvd tdnAtmti^kmti
Qotir-^JmUaUom<(f ChH$t,B.%Q,%,

Trurtnota did not long ei^oy the presence of its b<)]0Ted
sovereign after his retam from Italy, and Elizabeth, who had
welcomed her husband again to her side with a joy so liyely
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., inrited 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
b the autumn of 1227. The idea and name of Crusadi were
alone suflBcievt to make the hearts of all nations beat with
ardour. Thecie great and holy expeditions exercised over
Boals an inflo^nce so powerful that no valiant knight nor
pious and fervent Christian could resist it. The remembrance
of the almost fabulous exploits of Richard Cceur de Lion,
forty years before, still lived in the minds of the Chivahy and
the people. The brilliant and unhoped for success of tbt
Foarth Crusatle, dazzled all^orope. People saw the d'kitruo*
lion of that ascient empire c^ Byzantiam, which never did else

•10

Llfl Of tf. ILIIABITn,

tlmn betraj the Chriitiani who were fighting for the fiiith,
but which still occupied an immentiG place in the TcucrutJDi
of Christendom, and from the ruins of which was destined u
rise a new empire founded bj a few French knights and mn^
Venetian merchants. In this there was sufficient to awaken
all imaginations, eren without the inspiration of faith, and
these had not yet lost any portion of their strength. Tb«
whole of the thirteenth century was penetrated with an oar*
nest desire to rescue the tomb of Christ, and to bow down
the power of the East before the cross. The feeling was ox-
tiuguished only at the death of St. Louis. Germany, wliicb
was never before the first to engage in these noble perils, wan
now inflamed with an enthusiasm that burst forth partico-
larly in the numerous songs of the ago. Walther Yon der
Vogelwcide, whose poems mirror most faithfully the maninn
and feelings of his time, and who entered this crusade, has
best expressed the attraction felt by Christian souls towards
the laud where Ciirist's sacred blood was shed for our salvii-
tion. " We all know,'' said he before he set out on this ex*
pedition, "how unhappy is this holy uu^l noble laud, bow
abandoned she is and desolate I Weep, Jerusalem I weep I
how art thou forgotten ! Life passes, death will find os still
sinners.. It is in dangers and trials that we acquire grace ;
let us go to heal thn wounds of Christ ; let us go to free His
country from her chains. O Queen of all women, come to
our aid I It i^as there thy Son so pure was baptized to po-
lify us I it was there He was sold to redeem us, He so rich
we 60 poor ! It was there He suffered a most cruel deatn :
Hail to you! Lance, Cross, Thorns I Defeat to you pags
By the arms of His heroes does Ood wish to revenge the in-
juries done Hir^.'' These were also the emotions expressed
by the royal bard of Xavarre, Thibault of Champagne, io
some of the fine pOf.irv? i^"/ dressed by him to his noblea
** Know well, my lofdi,-' says ^f<, ' that be who goep not

to thin Und, who Ukei not op the CroM beyond the tet^
will find it hard to enter Paradise. Everj man who fcelf
foiiip pity for the tuff' iigH, and presenret the rememhranor
of till* inoflt Uif^h IiOrd» shoald atriTe to rerenge Hi ), and t«
deliu; His eouutry. Al! the Taliant knights, nil wi.o off
God nnd tiie honoar of this world, ali who wish to go wisely >
to God, will go there ; none will remain at home bat the
ilotlifiil and indifferent. How blind are they who during
tlieir lives do noaght for GM, and who for so little lone even
the fflory of this wov.i . lU, ' who deigned to saffer death for
u<; on the Gro89, will nay on the day of the great judgment,
'Voii who hcve aidea me to carry my Cross, shall go to join
the I)lcs8ed i iiipany of the angels ; there yon will see me,
and my mother Mary: but yon, who never did me any service,
gjml descend into Hell/ Sweet Lady, crowned Qnccn, pray
for n9, most blessed Virgin, and noaght then can harm us.**

In no heai*t conld these sentiments find a deeper echo
than in that of Duke Lonis of Tharingia, whose vassal the
poet Walther had been. No one conld more earnestly desire
to follow the emperor and his brothers in arms to the rescne
of the Holy Land. His brilliant courage, the fcnronr of his
faith and piety, all that was in his yonng 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 /lower of Chrtat

To these personal motives were added the noble examples
presented by the records of his family. Louis the pimu, bro-
tl (T and predecessor of his fathf^r, had accompanied Richard
I jr de Juion, and Philip Augustus to Palestine, and no*
qnired a glorious renown. His father-in-law, King Andrew
of Hungary, had spent sevefal years of his life under an
eastern sky, fighting against ctbe NIdels.

It would be unworthy of Laiii to remain by his fire-side ;
•0 be did not waver long, b«t soon same to a noble dete^

tl2

LIFE or 8T. BLIZADBTH,

minatioii. Having met during one of his jonrnejrs with th« I
venerable Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim, he confided to hit}
his intention, and having received his approbation he niude i
vow to join the expedition then in preparation, and receive>l
Uie cross from the hands of this prelate.

Meanwhile when returning to Wartbnrg he thought apoQ
lie grief and deep anxiety that his beloved Elizabeth woald
feel on learning his resolntion ; and besides, as she was then
pregnant of her fonrth 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 lorcd so
much should not be over afflicted lest of injury to her hcaltii;
so in place of attaching the Cross 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
afifright 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 God what I should do for a
tcm]>orai prince — for the emperor or the empire, if they re-
quired my services." After a long silence and much wecpfng
the said to him, " Dear brother, if it be not against God'?
will, remain with me." But he replied, "Dear sister, per-
mit me to set out, for I have made a vow to God." Tlien
entering into herself she immolated her will to God and said
to her hosband, " Against God's will, I wish not to detaic

.nrri^ ov HUROARr.

'^,

(hoc. I b&^c offered thee and myself as a sacrifice to Him
.Mav He in Ills goodness wotch over thee. May all happi-
ness attend thee for ever I This shall be my prayer each
iiionii'iit. Go then in the name of Gotl."

Thov again remained in silence, but afterwards spoke ol
tlie cliiltl she then bore in her womb, and they resolved to
coiiSLcrate it to God from its birth. In case it was a boy
till y ii'^vced that he shonld enter the abbey of Ramersdorf ;
Imt if a girl, that she should be sent to the monastery of the
Preniofistratensians near Wetzlar.

The Duke baring no longer any motive to keep his dec!*
sion secret, made it known to all his suly'ects. He announced
at tiic same time that this expedition shonld be formed en
tircly at his own expense, and that for its maintenance he
woulil 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 hw
projott required, he convoked the estates of his dominions to
a solemn assembly at Crentzburg. He detailed to them his
(k'siui), and took with them the necessary measures for the
jrood government of his country during his absence. He
oxliorted his nobles to rule the people with mildness and
(•(luity, and to let justice and peace reign over them and their
Viissals. Before quitting the assembly, he addressed the fol-
lowing words in a gentle tone of voice to his audience : —

" Dear and loyal brothers-in-arms, barons, lords, and noble
knights, and you, my faithful people, you know that during
the lifftime of my lord add father of pious memory, our
country had cruel wars and many troubles to endure. You
know how my royal father suflfered 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 for

ulil

111

'^ri

214

Lire OF ST. BLXZABKTR,

midable to all. Ar for me, God has granted to mc, as \^\
did to Solomon, son of David, peaceful and tranquil dnyi
I know not any neighbour that I have reason to fear, neither
can any one dread from me unlawful violence. If in timd
past I have had some conflicts, I am now at peace witli all,
thanks to the Lord the Giver of peace. You should all b«
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 mi
soul, I am now going to the eastern country to the succour of
oppressed Christianity, and to defend it against the enemies
of the name and of the blood of Christ. I undertake thii
distant expedition at my own expense, without burthcning
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, ray 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 yon
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 nml
sound again to you, if it be His most merciful will, for I
submit myself, and yon, and all that I hold dear, to the
pleasure of His Divine Majesty."

In these touching words is revealed to as all the depth of
what was then called " The Mystery of the Cnisade,^* 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

or BUKOART.

S19

with grief, and with sighs and tears expressed the anxiety
caii^Ml them by the approaching departure of their yonng
tnd well-beloTcd soTereign.

The Duke then, with the greatest prudence, appointed the
rariuiis officers whom he wlslied to place over his estates, and
geli-cted magistrates for each city from amongst the wisest of
its iiiliabitants. He also put the private affairs of his house-
jiold 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 him, "that my lady the
Diieiicss will give away all that she can, and reduce us to
misery." To which Louis replied "that it was equal to
biin, for that God knew how to replace all that she gave
Bwav." 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 tlioir 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
otiiers, and to which he was attached by the bonds of a spo^
ciai 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 afTeo
tionately; even the little children of the choir he raised in hip
arnis 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 tltoughts of the ab
sctiee of their protector. The Duke yielded to his emotions
and shed tears— a dismal foreboding seemed to seize upon
him, and he said, *' It is not without reason that you weep^
Qiy dearest friends, for when I shall have gone away, rtp»

... 1

mi\i\

, ■ tlm'

LIFE OV ST. ILISABITH,

eions wolves shall attack you, and with their marderous teetk I
torment yon cruelly. When you shall be anhappy, impoT.
erishcd, you shall see that in me you have lost a defender
and a sovereign whose like is not frequently found. Bat 1 1
am also sure that the Most High will open to you the boweli
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 Scbmalkalde, where he had appointed i
meeting with all who were going to follow him to the Holj
Land. It was there he was to take leave of his relations, hig
mother, his wife, and all who dwelt in his heart. As sood
as he arrived he took his brother Henry aside and said to liim,
" I have done all that I could, with God^s help, to walk Id
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*
fltroyed, as my father ordered me, the castle of Eyterbarg,
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 th3
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 aronnd 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
who were both weeping; he ferviently recommended to them
his mother, his children, and his Elizabeth. His little ones
dung to his garments, embraced him weeping, and in their
Infantiot language bade him farewefl. He could not restraii

Of BUWOAAT.

I,i8 1< nrs when kissing them, and when he tamed towards his
))o1 )ve(l Elizabeth, his grief and sobbing prevented him fro'^
e|Mnkii)g to her. Then embracing her with one arm, and his
motiier with the other, he held them both pressed to hii b(^
lom uithont uttering a word, ana kissed them repeatedly
while shedding abundant tears, for more than half an hour.

At length he said, " My loTed mother, I mast leave thee,
but tiiou hast in mj place thy other two sons, Conrad and
Henry. I recommend to thee my wife whose anguish thoa
geost." Bat neither his mother nor his wife would leave the
object of their love, each clung to his side. His brothers and
tlie other knights pressed round this sorrowing group. All
hearts were rooved'—all eyes were tearful, on seeing this pious
loD, 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 grie^ 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 Crosaders who were
to accompany the Duke, many fathers, and husbands, and
brotliers, who wept and struggled like their sovereign in sep-
arating from their families and friends. Each one seemed
to iiave deferred to this moment the painful trial. The Thn-
rini^ians, the Hessians and the Saxons were there united by
u common affection, as well as by the object of their expedi-
tion. So m4ny ties could be broken only by a supernatural
eff(jrt. 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*
tnily nor social bonds to break, were at this solemn moment
governed only by the thou|(ht of the sacred character of thi
10

''$]

tin

LIFI OF IT. BLISABITH,

enterprise which they were abont to commence. Ticso (H
•aders and pilgrims, whilst the others wept and lanunttd,
entoned hymns of tbanksgiTing to God for having deign d to
permit them to go and combat for the honour of His holv
name. The sound of these canticles mingled with the t rits
of grief that were nttered on all sides, andthns were re-uiiiti.d
by a sublime contrast, the height of joy inspired by the love
of the Lord, and the expressions of that deep grief whiclithifl
love tanght these good men to brave and conquer.

When at length the Duke could detach himself from the
amis of his mother, he was, as it were, imprisoned by lilg
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 gttrments ; Louis
with tearful eyes looked on but could not speak. It was by
a great effort that he made way through them to the phice
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 Tburingia. They rode on, side by side, with
hearts overwhelmed with sadness. No longer able to spenk,
the young Duchess could but sigh. They arrived at the fron«
tier, but she had not courage sufficient to leave him, so she
made anoth«:r 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 deaths conquered in these two
noble and tender hearts the love of the creature. The lord
de Yarila came nigh to the Duke and said to him, " My lord
llw time has now arrived that oor uoble Duchess must lean

at flUNVARI

911

as." At these words both burst into teftrs, they embraced
each otlier trembliug with emotion, and sobbing with such
guiriiish that the hearts of all present were moved.

Meanwhile, the wise lord de Yarila insisted on their Bepar»
tioii; but these two souls so long and tenderly united dung
to cut h 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
whicli he always used for sealing his private letters. " Elizfr*
k'th/' 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 &11 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 blesi
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 bearcst, 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 upon
him. Returned to her lonely home, she laid aside her royal
robes, and with a sad presentiment, assumed the costume that
Bhc was never again to leave off — that of a widow's mourn*

lug.

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

^^o

Liri OF ST. ILISABBTB,

people, eren amongst those who appear to be pion», that w(
may be astonished to see in so detached a princess, so linnh
love for her royal spoase.'' We will not follow the good fiiif
through the defence he thought himself obliged to nink(> Tnr
this feature in the character of St. Elizabeth. We cun «if
of her wliat St. Bernard said of Mary, '* Be not a8toiii>h( d,
my dear brethren, that Mary has been styled a martyr in Wj
soul ; to be Rnrprised at it we should forget what St. Paul
looked upon as one of the greatest faults of the '.sntiles, tlint
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 ofl'(i'e<|
to our contemplation, in the same high degree, the model of i
wife, as did St. Elizabeth. Kone other realised in such ptifcc
t»oQ, our idea of a truly Christian marriage. No one so cniio-
bled and sanctified human love by giving it so high a place in
a heart bo inflamed with the love of God, as did this young
and noble lady,

' And this nnion of the lawful earthly affections with tho
most profound piety was not of rare occurrence in those tiinen
ot 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 ];as-
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 s(»lfish-
neset. Feelings less varied, less extended, less refined, p.r-
iaps, than at present, were then far deeper ; and when once
Religion placed upon them her immortal seal, they manifest cl
\ wonderful strength, and experienced an unspeakable trans-
Sguration, in which were at once combined the calm of loni^'
attachment, the freshness of innocence, all the energy of
passion with all the parity and simplicity of religion All

or nuioART.

231

those who are acquainted mith the historical and literary
works of the middle ages, wili appreciate the truth of this
i&»ertion.

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

Tliat was also the age ^ #hich 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
bad engraven these wordn, God, Francs, and Margueiutb,
gaid with such exquisite simplicity, *' Mors cet ami n^ai point
iamour^* ** Beyond this ring no love have I." In this cen*
tury, too, Edward I. of England erected the thirteen admuralile
crosses, whose remains are to this day reckoned amongst the
wonders of Christian art ; each one of these was reared npoa
the spot where the bier of his beloved wife, Queen Eleanor,
was rested during the procession of her remains from Gran*
tbam, 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
upon Edward, and who had thus saved bis 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'
time, is, that this union is consecrated by fiction as well ai
by truth, and the crdations of imagination render to it ei
brilliant an homage es do the mQuomentt of historj.

ill!

i.'j

LItl or IT. ILISABBTB,

All the poetry of this period^ u well m preTiona to Elin
beth's age, breathes the lame spirit It was. not until aft«f
this time that any interest would be felt in the recital of tin
story of an unlawful love, or even one not consecrated l)y tht
Church. Marriage, or at least betrothal, should have taken
place before Catholic souls would listen to the history of two
hearts as related by the poets ; lore and interest, far from
concluding with marriage, as in modern novels, seemed hr,
to find in it their beginning. Conjugal fidelity was ia a
manner the inspiring principle of this beautiful poesy.

The most animated and romantic scenes are those in which
tome 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 chivalrotu
and profane, bear the same stamp of the consecrRtion of 8en<
timent by duty. It is of woman as a faithful and pioui
wife that these poets trace the portrait in verses where she
is pictured as almost divine, and seems to share in the tender
reneration they paid to Mart. In our national literature,
the touching and pure loves of Roland and his betrGtu d
Ande, in the romance of Roncevaux ; the admirable history
of the misfortunes endured by Gerard de Roussillon, and hii
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
NUhelungen^ 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, such
as those of Henry the Lion, of Florentia, Genevieve of
Brabant, Count Ulric, &c., is always the brilliant source of
Inspiration of the grandest poems of the days of chivalry.

Parsev^l is lo enraptured at the sight of three drops of

ov avvoAiir.

blood upon the snow, which reminds hbn of his wife's
beauteous complexion, that he despises glorj and the combat
iu order to contemplate them.

Tlic wife of Loheqgrio, whenever her hnsband left her,
iwooncd away, and remained insensible ontil his return. In
the Titurel we read that when a faithfiil hnsband and wife
gre re-anited in death, from their common tomb spring forth
two vines which intertwine with and sustain each other.
^wcct and ncble symbols of those holy afToctions implanted
from Above, that give to the earth such lovely flowers, bot
the frnits and rewards of which an to be found oi^ li
heaven.

k.*.i

LIfl or tf. BtllABBTS.

CHAPTER XVI.

■OW DVKB LOUIS DBD OM BU WAT fO Tm BOLT LAVD.

"OMurnninatoi In Vrtvl tzp1«Tlt tompom mnlU: piMll* cnlm •nt Dm mIm
; ff fU t boo propanfU •daaws lllam d* aidto Uii^iiltMum.**— Ajk It. il, 14

Louis, after losing sight of his dear and sorrowing Kliza>
betb, soon regained the joyous and trostlul energy wliicb
always distiugnisbed the true kuights engaged in those distant
expeditions, and tlie holy cheerfulness that faith confers in tb»
Idea of the sacrifices made by, and the victories gained over,
Acre human feelings.

He brought with him the choicest chivalry of his domi«
oions ; five counts, Louis de Wartberg, Qiinthcr do KcftTo*
burg, Meinhard de Muhlberg, Henry de Stolberg, and Burk-
hard de Brandeuberg ; his cup-bearer, Rodolphe, Lord de
Yarila ; his marshal, Henry, Lord of Ebersberg ; his cham
berlain, Henry, Lord of Fahnern ; his seneschal, Hermann de
Hosheim, and a crowd of other barons and knights. Tiie
number of lufantry 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 vassal!^,
Lonis 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 romantid

• r Hl'NQART.

i,]\cii(uret during this Crutade. A tiftdiiion supported by
kAriK'd authorities relHtes, that hii\ ntg b««ti bikoh piiMoow
1(1 I'Hk'siiDe, and carried iuto Kgypt, ho was UUrnti^d bj
Moi*M liflula, daughter of tha soldMn, on coiiUitiuii that h$
ilioiiM marry her, though he hiid Ut't hin wife (boru Countesi
d'Uilainuude) in Thuringia; agrtnable to his proiiiine ha
Icoiiu'lit his fair deliverer to his castle of Gleichen, where the
two wives lived in the most perfect union, and on his tonil^
in Krfurth Cathedral, he is sculptured in a recumbent posture
between them.

Provided with so good an army, the Duke traversed Fran-
tonia, Swabia, and Bavaria, crossed the Tyrolean Alps, and,
pa,<siiig 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
ai>scmblcd an immense force. Sixty thousand men were there
encamped under the banner of the cross ; but an epidemio
had already broken «out amongst them, and delayed their
embarkation. However, all was prepared ; the Landgrave
held a secret conference with ttie Emperor to arrange in detail
the plan of the expedition : for, notwithstanding his youth,
DO 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 Qod their voyage, by solemn prayerSi
hat 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 waa.
Tlie Duke went with him, in order to pay a visit to the
Empress with the usual ceremony, though a great number of
his foHowers had continued their journey to Palestine. Mean*
thik , Louis felt that his fever increased in violence, and it

1 1

: 'Aim

LIFE OF BT. StllABITH,

Wfts with difficaity he regained his ship, where he was imrr.^
difttelj obliged to confine himself to bod. The sickness ma je
rapid progress, and all hope of recovery was soon abandon, d.
The Dake was the first who wis aware of his danger ; he
(nade his will, and sent for the Patriardi of Jerusalem to hring
him the last sacrament. This prelate came, accompanied bv
the Bishop of Santa Croce, and administered to him Extreme
Unction.

After having confessed his sias with bumilitj and great
contrition, his knights assembled aroand his bed, and he
received in their presence the "Bread of the Strong,^ with
the most fervent devotion and an expression of the Uveliest
faith.

W« do not find, either in the narrative of his almoner,
irho 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 Icust
regret on quitting this life. Neither bi& 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 wafi Mixious to die, and
the happiness of expiring under the banner of Christ, as it
%rere, even in His service, after having sacrificed all for tliis,
l^verned him exclusively, and left no place in his heart for
any earthiy remembrance or regret. As he had lived but for
Ood, and in God, it seemed to him <|nite easy to die at the
moment God willed :», and at the post assigned to him
Like a faithful soldier, he received anmirtnoriagly ibe 4gnal
which recalled him before the close of the fight.

i : ; '-1 ■

OV HUNQART.

He who Lad ehed so many tears when leaving for a litU*
time- liis beloved family — he who had torn himself with sncb
bitter anguish from the wife whom he hoped soon to see
ai^aiii, had not for them, at this moment of complete and
irreparable separation, a sigh or a tear. Truly he was tight
to mourn and weep when going far from her on earth, bot at
Uoavea's gate this dear image could only be present to hia
iiiiiid as re-united and rejoicing with him in the future blisn
of a glorious eternity.

He charged some of the koights 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
mill, in the names of God and our Lady, to remember him
if they surviTed the dangers of their holy undertaking — to
briii^ back his remains to Thurlngia, to inter them at Reynr
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 I'* The bystanders thonght
he was delirious, bat in a moment after he said, " I must fly
away with those beauteous doves." In saying these wordi
he slumbered in the Lord, quitted this mortal pilgrunage t«
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 Virgin, (11th Sept. 1227,) having just at-
tained his twenty-seventh year.

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

1 1, i

■' " »

i\ ;.u

1 ,

' . : ^ii

fr *»4'^

* ^ * t f \

938

LIFE or 8T. BLIZABEIH,

ftiir shape to conduct before the San of eternal jnstice thii
fonng soul, which throngh its earthly pilgrimage had |)re>
■enrcd its pure and dove-like innocence. To his face alnadj
•o fair, death added new beauty, and the attendants could
Dot too much admire the expression imprinted on his pale
fisatnTcs of firm faith, sweet peace, ineflfable joy, with the deep
And pure placidity of death.

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

The air resounded with their lamentations. " Alas ! dear
lord,** cried they, " alas I good knight, why have you left us
exiles in the country of the stranger ? How have we lost
you I — you the light of our eyes, the leader of our pilgrimage,
the hope of our after years 1 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 themselvea
escaped from the perils of the crusade. Meanwhile ,thcy
solemnly celebrated his obsequies, an^l carefully bnried liii
body at Otranto. Then^they resumei? their journey in order
to acoompUsh their tow.

•f HUMOABt

CHAPTER XVII.

■OW mis DEAR ST. ELIZABETH HEARD OF THE DEATH OF Bl
HUSBAND, AND OF HER GREAT AGONT AND TRIBULATION.

"Quo mlhl ftTulaos esf qno mlhl mptas 4 manibna, homo nnmimis, ho)
iteundum oor menin? »in«v1uins nos in vita: qaomodo In morte snmas sepanttt

Omntuo opus mortis, horrendum divortinm. Qnis enim tarn soaTi vineul*

■lutui nostil non pepercisset amoiis, nisi totioa siuTiUtis Inimtea jnoraf"— iMt
Bernard in Cant. Sertn. 86.

*' Flebat tgitor IrremedUbiltbos laflfymto.'*— 7b(. z. 4.

The nobles whom Duke Louis had commanded at his last
moments to go and announce his death in Thuringia, had a
Ions: 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, Qer>
triide, 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 afflictich by
wlilch they had been stricken. In the midst of the consterna-
tion which this news spread through the family and people Ok
the illustiious 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 one should give her daughter-in-law reason
to suspect her misfortune, and took all necessaiy precautioof
to have these directioni faithfully attended to.

I^«

tIFX Q« 0T. Btl'SABITH,

But the appointed time had elapsed since Elizabeth's r&
to very, and it was deemed fit to inform this fond and faithful
wife of the grief Qod had willed her to endure, and it was the
Duchess Sophia who was charged with this painful duty.
Accompanied by several Roble and discreet ladies she went to
Air daughter>in-law's apartment. Elizabeth received thom
with respect and affection, aad 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
fhild, and be not troubled by what has happened to your
husband, my son, by God's will, for to that, you know, he waa
entirely devoted.'* Elizabeth seeing how calm the Duchesa
was, for she had spoken without weeping, had no idea of tiie
fxtent of her misfortune, and imagining that her husband had
\keen taken prisoner, she replied, "If my brother is in cup^
tiyity, 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,
Cor to our grief he is dead.'* " Ah mother I what do you
^AJt" cried out the young Duchess. '^ He is dead," replied
^phia. At these words Elizabeth became pale and red b;
toms, and passionately clasping her hands, she said in a Toice
almost suppressed by strong emotion, " Lord my God,
my God, now indeed is the whole world dead to me, the world
»od all it contains of happiness I" Theu rising she began to
fon distractedly through all the corridors and passages of the
castle, crying oat, " He is dead ! He is dead !" In the
refectory she was found holding by the whII, weeping bit-
terly. The Duchess Sophia, and the other ladies who fol*
lowed, detached her from thiK position, made her sit down,
tiad used every effort to console her. She still wept, ana hei
words were interrupted by Qontiuued sobbuig. **Now,*' said

or RUKoxmr.

ilio, " I have lost all I Oh mj beioTed brotlier 1 Oh fricttd
of my heart, my good and pious husband, how shall I livi
without thee I Thoa art dead, and I am left in misery.
Poor desolate widow, anhappy woman that I an t May He
who forgets not the widow and the orphan console me I Oh 1
mv God, comfort me I Oh good Jesus, strengthen me in mjr
f eaknessl" Her ladies endeavoured to reconduct her to lier
chatnlier ; ^e yielded with tottering steps, and Tviien she tit-
tered it she fell on her face on the floor. They ndsed her an4
flhe renewed her lamentations.

The Duchess Sophia also gave rent to has? ina/temal griel^
ard mingled her sorrow with Elisabeth's, as did also the
nt^ble matrons and laaidens in attendance. Following their
example, all the members of the Dues4 household, all the in«
habitants of that Waitlmrg where Louis had spent almost the
entire of his short life, indulged their gi^ef, which they until
then had suppressed, on account of the critical state of the
young widow. The sight too of ber unutterable anguish ad<l*
eil still mora to tlie impression produced by the irreparable lost
of their beloved sovereign. Throughout the neighbourhood fc*
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 songht 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
itrength, and who replenished her with His graces in filUng^
op the measure of her aflliction."

And let ns now look npon this dear saint, whom we be^
held, in hef truly Christian onion, endowed with the greateat
happiness of this life, a widow at the, a*e of twenty years ;
the loving and beloved wife condemned henceforth to endort

til IT

* ■

.iw

f82

tin OF BT. ILICABKTV,

tbe painful trial of the solitade of the heart. It was not
■ufficient for the Divine Saviour of her sonl to have her
initiated into the troubles of life, and exposed to the calum-
nies aud persecutions of the wicked — she had preserved invio-
late her tender confidence in Him. It was not enough to
have tempted her hj the display of royal grandeur, by the
ila:tering 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 of 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
condemned 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
Itrdour.

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.

•V HCMOART

According as she approached the end of her career, the
exaltation of victory restored to her in some measare the
tranquil courage that sustained her under her former sc tows.
She was fortified bj the preientimeat and the hops of
Irinoiph.

^^^ ti

«.|

LIFE OW ST. ILUtABITI.

CHAPTER XTIII

■OW Tira DKAR ST. ELTZARETH WAS DRIVEN OUT OF HIR CAmj
WITH HRR LITTLE CniLDREN, AND REDUCED TO BXTKRMI
MISERY, AND OF TH.I QRBAT INGRATITUDE OF MEN TOWARDS
HER.

**Paap«roul«, tempesUta ooBTalaa, abaqne nn» eonsolatlone.**

laaian, Book II.
** Egentes, augustiatl, affllcti, qnlbus dignus non erat mundas."

UebrewH, xl 87, 33.

In commencing the secon(! part of Elizabeth's life with licr
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
Vihd romantic interests of the preceding pages. It is no loii^rcr
the young and loving wife, striving to mingle in her soul tlie
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 o^ a Christian widow in
Ibe highest perfection of that character, daily more and more
denuded of sel^ and arrived at length at a degree of self*
abnegation and spiritual mortification, equally repugnant to
human reason and the human heart, and requiring uniningl* d
•trength of faith to understand and appreciate virtues almost
tnperhuman.

The sympathy by which we saw the young widow so iatelj

OF HDVOARr.

forrooiidcd, was neither long continued nor eificacioot. In Ik
very short time persecution and ingratitnde added their bit
t( rness to the sorrow that already filkd her heart. Whili
aliiindoncd to her grief, she remembered not that the govern-
ni(Mit of the country had devolved npot. her sine? the death
of lier husband, owing to the minority of her 80.ij and man^
of her former enemies profited of the occasion to overwhelm
tier who had been stricken by the Most High, and to envenom
tht> wound that Qod had inflicted.

Duke Louis had, aa we have before mentioned, two bro*
thers, Henry and Conrad ; these young princes were ear*
rounded by men, strangers to every feeling of justice and
honour. These iniquitous counsellors strove to bias the
Lund^ave Ilenry, surimmed Raspon, and to engage hin^
Qiider 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 l»w of the country of Tho-
ringia, the principality should remain nndivided in the care of
(he eldeot prince of the royal family, who atone might marry;
if the younger members wished to take wives, the most they
could obtain, as Appanages, would be some estates ; thej
would be obliged to descend from their rank as counts, and
a'ljvays 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 npon tho
Rovereign authority, to put away the yoong Hermann, son of
Dnke Louis, and to get married, in order that the dominions
might remain with his descendants. They dared not, it seeois^
advise him to put the rightful hnr to death, but they insisted
that he should expel his brother's widow, with her children,
including the little Hermarii, not only from the royal resi-
dence of Wartbourg, but also from Eisenach, and from all
the Bucal possessions. " If, by chance," added they, " tbli
ehild lifM, he will, on ai riving at manbcod, be even im

1 i

■ ''ll;

~' ''i

LIPK OP ST ILIZADETn,

bappy to receive one or two castles f^r his portioa/' In .b*
mean time they thought it well to pat him out of sight, uud
lor this it became necessary to dispossess his mother, wlioio
they culled " the prodigal and bigoted Elizabeth."

Henry had the misfortune to allow himself to be seduciiJ
by these wicked coansels. "Justice and honour/' says as
old poet, " fled from his heart, and he declared war agaiiisl
the widow and the orphans he had sworn to protect." Hif
young brother Conrad also allowed himself to be won over ti
join him; and strong with their double consent, the wicked
€0urtiers hastened to the Duchess Elizabeth, to signify to iter
the will or 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
opon her innumerable insults — they reproached her with
having rained the country, wasted and exhausted the state
treasury, deceived and dishonoured her husband, and au
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 thtt sovereign, had commanded her to
quit the castle immediately.

Elizabeth, astonished at these insults, and at this message,
hambly asked these relentless enemies to grant her at Iea:.l
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
ions? I wish to speak to them." But the messengers replied,
" No, she must Icare this place at once," and they began to
ieparate forcibly the two princesses.

Seeing that all resistancf" was vain, the Duchess Sophia
wished at least to accompany the sorrowful El zabeth to the
outer gate of the castle. The wicked ones in power refused
the deposed sovereign permission to take any property away

or RUNOART.

with her; bat she foand in the coart-yard her little cbihlren,
and two of her maid.s of honoar, who were eX|)eilcU at the
Mine time, and to whom we owe the recital of tlii§ sad
KciK". When they orrlved at the castle gate, Sophia agnin
eiiitirnccd Elizabeth, and wept bitterly at the idea of parting
iitli l>er.

The sight of the children of the belored son she had lost,
of those orphans condemned to sliare the fate of their guil^
|i ss mother, redoubled the affliction and indignation of the
Diiciicss 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
theiiiselves whilst their cruel orders were being executed,
for they were both afraid and ashamed to witness the
l>rayers and tears of their mother, a.'d the sad spectacle
of the anguish of Elizabeth, whom they bad 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 sonV says the narrator, " the
grief for the death of her son was renewed and augmented
by the thought of the w>kednes8 of the children who were
8f)nred to her, was, though suffering intense sorrow, oblig^
to Dart with Elizabeth."

The gates of the castle where the young Duchess had
reigned 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 *\ie tomb of Christ, there was
not found one to fulfil the first duty of cluTalry, and tc offer
an asylnn or succour to the widow and the orphans. This
j.uigliter of a royal race descended on foot and weeping by
the rugged and narrow pathway that led to the city. Sbt
herself carried her new-bom infant, the other three childr«9

: I, I

• I

LIFI OF ST* ■LISABKTSi

followed with her two faithful oompaoioat. It was iiiid*Mrii.Ur,
and tho coUi whs very severe.

Arrived at the fuot of the moantain, and havingf entoreri
the city o( Kisctiach, which she had, m it were, inandatod wiU
Uie evurflowing ttream of her charity, a new and pninful
trial awaited her. Diikc Henry had caused a proolaniHiiou
to be made in the city, that whoever would receive the
Duchess Elizabeth or hor children should thereby incur lijs
displeasure ; and with an ingratitude far more revolting tiinn
the cowardly baseness of the order, all the Inhabitants of
£isenach obeyed it : perhaps also, the remembrance of bonts
fits received, which weighs so heavily on vulgar souls, ha<l
extinguished in them all feelhigs of humanity, pity, and
justice. In vain did the unhappy princess go, always sur-
rounded by her little ones, weeping and knocVing at every
door, even to the he jses of those who had former!; testified
the greatest attachment to her, bat nowhere was she ad-
mitted.

At length she came to a miserable tavern, whence the
t>wner neither could nor would send her ( way, fbr she declnrcd
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 f' The inn-
keeper assigned as a resting-place daring the niglit, 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 i^ace to
the Duchess of Thuringia, the royal princess Of Hungary.
Bat as if this lowest depth of hamiiatioa had snddeoly
restored peace to her soul, no momm did she enter this no*
clean spot, than her tears were dried ap. ana supernatural joy
. tlescended upon and penetrated her wiMie soul. She remained
in this state until midnight, when «& that hour she heard
tlM bell ringing fbr matins at the jLYanciscan cottvent that

OF BllfSAMT.

ii)if> hud fooudcd dnring her htuiband's lifetime. 8I10 liuiii»>
(lately arose, and went to their chnreli, and after hnriug
rt« i t«.'d ut the office, she begged of them to chaunt t)ie 7%
Dmm, in thanksgiving to God for the tribulations he had
lent litT.

Her ardent piety, her absolnte siibmiRsIon to the DiTiM
«;il, ll»e lioly joy of her soul which her heavenly Father had
(li'i^'iMMl to try by snflTering, her old love for evangelical pot*
crty, resumed again their sway, never more to lose it. Pro**
tratc at the foot of the Altar, during the darknesi of that sad
iii;:ht, while the song of triumph, so incomprehensible to the
world, ascended to heaven, she ediQed her faithful followers
by the fervour and humility of the aspirations of her soul to
(lod.

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 I Yesterday I was a Duchess
with strong castles and rich domains ; to-day I am a mendt-
euiit, 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 sooQ again the sight of her poor children weeping
fi 0111 cold and hunger, renewed the M^g«iish of her heart. " I
iiuvc merited this," said she, with gr«at humility, " I have
deserved to see them suffer thus, and I repent sincerely. M^
cliiidren are borp of royal race, and behold them hungry, and
ritliout even a bed to lie on. My heart is pierced with sor*
row on their account ; as for me, my God, you know that 1
m unworthy to be raised by you to the state of holy pof*
eity." ^Ii;^beth remained sitting in this Church during
the reaiainder of that night and part of the next day, untU
tlie iuteitstly of cold and t^e pangs of hunger endured by hef
L'hildren oldiged her to go out again and to beg for some food

e. *

^ ill

Liri 07 ST. XLXZABKTV,

'-a

and a lodging. She wandered a long time in Tain throngi
this town where so many persons had been supported, cared
for, cured and enriched by her ; at length .» 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,
wid he prepared for his guests beds of straw, and entertaiiiR^
them as well as his great poverty permitted ; but to obtain
fufficient 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
foimd 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 her
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, stil'i 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
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 fihe 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.
** From these at least no one can drive me,'' she would say,
^for these are Qod'i holy dwellings, and He alone ii my

OF HUNOART.

241

Hof^t.** Bat the misery to which she was reduced bronght
gtill another trial, and one far more grieyons to her heart
thnn any she had yet endured* she who had gathered together
and lavished on so many poor foundlings and orphans tht
treasures of her mercy with more than a mother's tenderness,
DOW fonnd 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,
ofifered to take charge of her little ones, and she was obliged
to consent to their removal, as it was impossible fw 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 little alms to give to the poor people whom
Bhc met.

So heroic a patience, such unalterable sweetness, seem to
have calmed the fury of her powerful per<iecutors, 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 c«impa8ii0n or sympathy on their part, amongst the many
narratives that remain of these interesting ciicumstances. They
appear on the contrary but to demonstrate how true it is that
11

Y . ■* 4|]

'.'Iff

tin or tV. llrt^ABBTB,

! i

•ingratltiide, Hke aU th< f'Jq pMsioiM of the baman soul, c«i
silence reraprse aod ftifle the remembranoe of benefits received,
only by addiag to tbe fivRt iU retorna new excesses of baso.
IMss. Thare was^ amoagrt otbeis at this time, in Eiitenacl^
•B 014 beggar woman wko snffered from many gricrous mi^
ladies, aod who had beea for a long time tiie object of th«
teaderest and most minote eare, and a recipieut of the boan-
teoos UberaUty of tlie Duchess, who waa at this time almost
reduced to mendicmiey. One day as £li;sabeth was crossing
a muddy stream that stili nint through one of the streets of
Sisenaeh, and in which some stonea were placed to enable
persona to get over» she met this same old woman, who would
net Qtily not make way for her, but advanced at the sania
time upoii the stepping-stoaes, and rudely pushed the young
and feeble woman, and threw her at fall length into the mudd^
water. Thea adding derision to this base in^atitade, the
old wretch cried out, "There thou Heat; whilst thou wert
Puohess thou wouldst not lire as one; now thou art poor
and lying ia the mad, fl*om which I will not strire to lift
thee/'

Elizal^eth, always patient and gentle, arose as well as she
conld, and began to htugh at her own fall. " This is for the
gold and preeions stones I wore long ago," said she; and then,
says her historian, slie went full of holy resignation and pure
^y to wash her soiled robes in a well hard by, and to bathe
ber patieat soul in the biood of the Lamb. Arrived at this
part of his narrative, a pious and kind religious whom we
bftve before qaoted, cries but, "Oh my poor dear St. Eliza-
hethf I snfier even more from thy misery than thou didst; I
am f«f more iitdigDant and in&imed with a just wrath against
thefe ungrateful and pititess persona than thou wert. Oh,
if I bad been present, how I woukt ban welcomed thoa, thee
Md UuM, froM my heart 1 With wliat love woiikl I hart

,BTi OV HUJtCAmV.

earbd for tbec and provided for all thj wants 1 Lei at least
my good will be agreeable to thee, and when the dreadful day
eomes when I Rhall appear alone and abandoned by the world
before Qod, deign to come and meet me, and to weleoiM
to the eternal Xahenmii&aJ'

LIIl OF tT. BLIIABITB.

CHAPTER XIX

■OW TBt ALL'M EK C IFUL IBSUf OONSOLKD THS D«AM 8T. SLIKAmETR n
HVR LONELINESS AND MI!' ..7, AND HOW THE SWEET AND MOSI
CLEMENT TIKOIN MARY CAME TO INSTRUCT AND FORTIPT HER.

''Bgo, ego tpee eonsolabor tos.**— /«. 1L It.

"Et ibsterget DeoB omnem laoTnuun ab oenlis eornm.**

Apocal. vlL IT.

In the midst of so many tribulations, Elizabeth never for
a moment forgot that they proceeded from the hand of God.
Never did a mnrmnr 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 offtira
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 enurring 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 in 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-

.»! rx

or HUNOART.

849

folations. She often remarked that her mistress fell into a
lort of ecstasy for which she coald not at first accoant. Om
dav ill parti(;alar, during the Lent, the Dacbess went to Mass^
and was kneeling in the Church ; suddenly she leant against
the wall, and remained for a long time absorbed in deep coo*
teniplatiou, and apparently elevated above the actual life, her
eyes immoveably fixed on the Altar until after the Commo-
Dion. When she came to herself her face wore an expression
of extreme happiness. Tseutrude, who had carefully watched
all licr niovements, prodted of the first opportunity to reqnest
her to reveal the vision she undoubtedly had. Elizabeth,
quite joyful, replied tf her, " I have no right to relate to men
what God has deigned to reveal to me, but I will not conceal
frorn thee that my spirit has been replenished with wonderful
consolatio'a, and tha'u 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
apou a bench near a window, and rested her head upon the
bosom of her dear and faithful Tsentrude, 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. Very 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
tiiey opened, and the joyous smUe 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, " O yss,
Lord, if Thou wilt be with me, I will be with Thee, aii4

LIFI 6t 0T. IMSiBITS,

frill nevftr leate The«.^' A moment after die recoverefl con.
ftciousnei% and Tsentrude begged of her to tell why slic had
thus by turns smiled ftod wept, and to explain to lior tie
tneaning of the words she had uttered. Elizabeth, alwan
ifofoundly humble, woald fain keep silence as to the gracci
bo had received from God, but, yielding to the prayen
of her who had loved her so long, and served her so devotedly,
she said, " I have seen tho javens opened, and our Lord,
the all mercifnl Jesns, has oi^ned to humble Himself so far
us to appear to me, and to console me for the many tribula-
tions I have suffered. He spoke to me with extreme gentle*
bcss; He called me His sister and His friend; He sliowed
onto me His dearest mother Mary, and His beloved a|)ostIe
Bt. John, who was with Him. At the sight of my Divine
feavionr I Was overjoyed ; sometimes He turned as if to go
away, and then I wept because I was not worthy to see Ilitn
for a longer tim6. But He, having had pity on me, showed
me again his radiant countenance, and said, " Elizabeth, if
tkou will be with Me, I will remain willingly ioith thee, and
will never be separated from thee,^ and I immediately replied,
" Yes, yes, Lord, I am willing to remain With Thee, and
DeYer to be separated from Thee neither in happiness nor io
misery."

And thenceforward these divrae words became etigraven
4n her heart, and illumined it with celestial light. In this
•acred 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 het widowhood, and a new and indissoluble
Allianoe with an inmiortal Spouse. And this was not the only
time that this Divine Spouse manffested to her in a sensible
ttianner his tender and watchful care.

One day she had been the victim of her persecutors by
•uflfering some insult, tho nature of which ia unknown to us,
but it was one so flagrant that her soiil, Usually to patieot|

OF SITHeAIIT.

tsci

wii qtihe Aifftorbed by H, and she wmght for eomfbrt fai
pr»yer B«thed in teart, she begged of the Lord to confer
on )i(>r eneittiea a blesMBg for every ii^jary they had inflicted
on iicr.

As she wa» begianNig to lose her strength from praying so
jo»(^ in thia maaner, she beard a Toicc saying to her, " Never
didst thoa atkt me any prayers more agreeable than these ;
they have peaetrated to ray heart, and for them \ forgire
thee all the sins thoa didst ever commit in thy life." And
then she heavd the enumeration of all her sins, the toice
gayiiijj^, " 1^ forgive t^ee siich and stich a sin.'' Elizabeth
astonished, cHed oat, "Who are you who speak to me it
this inoBuerT' 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 vras regretting thai she eovld
not confcas to her usual spiritual director, the Lord appointed
to her as coDfe8sor the saint wh(»n she had e^eially preferred
from her childhood^ and whom she had always tendeily loved*
St. John the Evangelist. The apostle of charity appeared
to her ; she coafessed to him with a more faithful reosem
hrance of and a greater oontrition for her sins than ever she
had felt in her life before. He imposed upon her a penaacei,
and addressed to her exhortations so efficacions and tender.
that her physical ills seemed to be alleviated, as well as the
Bufferings of her soul

In frequent contemplations, Elizabeth was permitted to
penetrate into even t\i» most minute details of the bitter
passion of Chrigt. Once, aa she prayed with fervour, she
saw, interiorly, a hand extended before her of resplendent
whiteness, but very thin, and >^ith long and taper lingers, and
in the middle of the palm a deep sear ; by this hist sign sht
knew it was the band of Christ, and was aatotiiahed at seeing
it s) eraaeiiAed. The foice, w\ik which she was now lb

!■ i

i ,

,5J-''

-, t

•|?l|:

WM^'^'\

•48

LIFB 07 ST. ILIIABITH,

: I

miliar, replied to her thonght, "It is because I was exliansted
daring the night bj Tigils and prayers, and daring the day
by my joomeys through cities and country places, prcncliing
ererywhere the kingdom of Qod I^

Again, she saw the clotted blood aboat the woand in the
side of Jesas cmcified, and wondering that it was not more
liquid and pare, the same voice answered her that this appear*
ance was the eflTect of the fearful soiTerings that the Son of
Qod 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 whiki; meditating {
on this subject, her Divine Consoler appeared to her and said,
" Grieve no longer, beloved daaghter, for all thy sins are for*
given thee ; I have sufifered in every member, and every part
of soal and body by which thou coaldst oifend thy Cre-
ator ; know that thou art free from all stain.'' " If I am
thas sanctified,'' said Elizabeth, " why can I not cease offend-
ing yoa ?" " I have not sanctified thee so far," said the
voice, "that thou cooldst sin no more, bat I have given thee
grace to love me so ardently that thoa wouldst rather die
than commit sin."

Nevertheless, the humble soul of Elizabeth, far from be-
coming self-<!onfiuent 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 un wor-
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
terrors excited by her hamility, an abundant source of afilic-
tioQ. But God, to whom alone she had offered her life and
her heart, watched over this precious treasure; and, as if He
irilled that sho should experience successively all the consols*

or BvifOAiir.

««

tions <.vhich are the inheritance of the children of predilection,

18 if lie intended that she should be more and more closelj

aiiited b/ ties at once the most sweet and powerful, Ht

ili&ri;ed Her whom we daily call up<9n as the Health of iht

Weak, the Refuge of Sinners, the Comfortress of the Afflicted,

to heal all the wounds of this young soul, languishing and

desolate, even with an excess of love, and that this exceM

almost led into faults against the blessed virtues of Faith and

Hope. The Queen of heaven became henceforward the dlt>

peiisutrix of all the graces that her divine Son wished to pour

forth on this creature predestined from her cradle. Mary

bad for onr 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 instrnoty

enligliten, ar.i fortify her in the path wherein Qod willed sho

should wait She whom the Church names always ifo/Aer,

Sovereign^ Qui<k and Mistress of all men, disdained not to

vatc'h ov .' every step of this young and humble follower of

her Son. The detailed traditions of these sacred confidenoei^

gathered from the recital of Elizabeth herself, have been

preserved to the Catholic people in the annals of the ordor 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 solicl-

tade wherewith Mary sympathised with all the emotions that

excited the tender, delicate, and scrupulous miud of Eliia*

both, 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 abrid^

ment of these touching narratives, with confidence of the

pious admiration which they should excite in every trnlj

Catholic heart. i

w»

LIFI or IT. ILIIABITB,

MotTiIng conld sariMMt the demencj which marVri] thf
origin of these celestial commanicationB. One day as tin
afflicted widow sought, and at it were fainly, her Bciu\((i j^
fervent and anxious prayer, the began to meditate on tlit
oaasee of the flight of Jesua into Bgypt, ind earnestly AisltciJ
thiit she could ha?« them explained to her by gome Icuntnl
and holy monk. Immediately the Bleesed Tirgio apponN
to het , and mid, " If thoo wilt be my pupil, I will he th?
teacher ; if thou wilt be my servant, I will be thy mistruss."
Elizabeth, not daring to believe herself worthy Of €0 much
honour, said, " Who are yoa who ask me to be your pupil
and your servant ?^ Mary replied immediately, ** J am tiie
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 mU 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 thoo
shalt be well instructed and obedient, like a gooi pupil, a
fiftithftil servant, and devoted child, I will present thee to m?
Son. Avoid all disputes, close thine ears against all the ill
that is spoken of thee. Remember that my Divine Son fled
into Egypt to escape the sntires 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 ike Mother who bad adopted her. On
the feast of St. Agatha, (5th February,) as she wept bittcrlj
tor her disol>edience to the instructions of her divine mistrcf^s,
this blessed Consolatrix appeared, and said, " My child,
whence this violent aflBiction ? I have not chosen thee to be
my child in order to do thee harm. Despair not, though thou
bast not entirely observed my precepts ; I knew that thou
wouldst fail in some. Say once my ' Saiatation,' and thii
i^ will be forgiven thee.'' Some days later, on the feast of
6t. Scholastica, (Feb. 10,) Elizabeth wept agauii» and wu

* ' i

0» liVMtABr.

ipbl>!i>g Tioluntly wliea her sweet Protectren <!ime, aeflomp^
Qi,i] by St. Joba the BvaugcUst, the chosen patron of Eliiii*

Ihii.'s oliiUlliood, and laid to her, *' Thoa hast chosen me for
tliy mistress and mother ; thoa host gircn thyself to me, bal
] wi>li tliat this ohdioe should be confirmed, and that is why
Ihavo broug)it mj beloved John." !j}lizabeth again joined
her liiutds, and placed them in those of the Queen of Heaven,
liko ii vassal tendering homage to a sovereign, and said,
»Nu))ie lady, do with me what you please, for I am yoor
lervuiit; ' then she confirmed this offering of herself by a vow
ot whicL St. John was the witness.

One flight, whilst Eliaabeth recited the " Angelical Salu-
tation/' tfhe to whom this beauteoos prayer is addressed ap>
peured, and, amongst other things said, ** I will teach thee aU
the prayers that I used to say whilst I was in the temple.
Beyond all alst , I ised to beg of God that I might love Him,
lud hate my enemy. There ia no Ttrtae withont this abso-
lute love of God, by which alone the plenitude of graco
descends into the aoul ; but, after entering there, it flowfl
away again notees the soul hates ita enemies, that is to say,
Ticc and sin. He then who would preserve this grace should
endeavour to make this love and ^tuB hatred operate in hit
heart. I wish that thou wouldst learn to do as I did. I
arose every nighty 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
Hin] to permit me to see the time wherein should live the
holy virgin who was to bring foi*th His Son, that I mighl
consecrate my whole being to serve and venerate her.'' Eli-
zuiji th interrupted her to say, " most sweet Lady, were
you not already full oC ^ce and virtue?" But the holy
Virgin replied, " Be assured that I thought myself as guilty
aud as miserable as thou thuikest thyself, that was w'.y I
prayed to God to gravt m« His ^race. The Lord," added

fe..i

LIfV or IT. ILIIABim,

this blemcd Qncen, ' did with mc what the skilful iniMiini
docs with his harp— disposing all its chords so as to |ir<>()t„.^
the most liarmoiiioos soand. It was thas the Lor* I »,,^^
pleased to adapt to His good pleasure mj soul, mj heart, u\i
mind, and all my senses. Thus governed by His wIr lom, j
was often borne by the angels to God's presence, and tlxn i
experienced so much joy, and sweetness, and eonsoiatini,
that this world was entirely banished from my memory. So
familiar was I with Qod and His angels, that it seemed ns if
I lived always with this holy court. Then when it plcflRcii
the Almighty Father, I was again brought by the aiigols to
the place where I had been praying. When I found mvHiIf
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 he
the servant of all the holy women who dwelt in the temple ;
I wished to be subject to all creatures through love for tlie
8upren:<) 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 P 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 V
The the blessed Mother related to her, how in seeking cod-
lolation in the absence of the supernatural favonrs of wbick

•r ■vvoAmr.

t5l

iie hnd ipoken, the had been ted, hj medilatln^ on the wordf
of tlip propheU, to cherish this ide« ; thnt she resoWed to
consorrate her firginity to Qod, in order that she mii^ht bo
wurtlij to serve that predestined Tirgin; and how, at lenfi^b,
a>l (I( Iji^ed to rcreal to her that she was the woman reserred
for this high dignity.

Some time after, as Elizabeth prayed with ferronr, hef
ten(K>r Mother appeared to her again, «nd said, " My child,
tlioii tliiiikest that I receired all these graces without tronble,
bat it was not so. Indeed I say unto thee that I did not
receive a single faTonr from Qod without unceasing prayer,
tnlent desire, sincere defotion, many tears and trials. Be
certain tiiat no grace comes to the soul without prayer, and
the mortification of the body. When we have giren to Ood
lU tiiat we can Arom ourselrcs, however little it may be, He
risits onr 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*
temptiblo than ever. What then should this creature do?
Render fervent thanks to God for these favours. When Ood
Bees the soul humble and thankful, He repleaishes 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 knelt, 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 thon know why? Because) I
believed in His word, and humbled myself before Him ; 1
tell thee these things, my child, that thou mayest corr(Hrt
thy failings in the virtues of Faith and Hope. When the
Lord shall have promised any grace say, like me, ' Behold
)by handmaid,' and expect in firm faith the coming of that
grace, until the promise shall be accomplished. And if jit

>' 1

illVl
%m' 1

•54

LIFE Q» AT. JILIIABETH,

eomea not, eay tbat thoa hast oomtnitttd some fluilt whick
biu rendered thee unworthy of its falfiiment."

During the vigil of Christmas, Elizabeth begged of the
Lord to grant her grace to love Him with her whole heart ;
llie Bloseed among women appeared t» her again and asked,
"Who is it that loves God? Dost thonT The humble
Elizabeth dared not affirm that she did, and yet was unwiHing
to deny it. While she hesitated to answer, Mary continued :
" Dost thon wish that I should tell thee who loved Him. Tho
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 thon wilt
consent to be deprived of all that is dear, precious and love-
able to thse, and even of thy own will, I will obtain for thee
the same reward that Bartholomew received, when his skm
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 mode 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 fiEtmiliarity. " I did," said she,
"as a roan who would wish to construct a fair fountaio.
Re goes to the foot of a mountain, examines carefully whence
spriujrs 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 ; he surrounds his fountain with a wall, erects
a pillar, and all around he makes canals wherein thd water
Bif^ flow {ilentifully, for the eomlbrt of all. Thus did I act

OF BCNOART.

995

1 . ^

^] went to the mountain when I began to study the Hoty
Law. I found the source, when I learned that to love God
with the whole heart was the origin of all good. I prepared
the place, when I conceived the desire of loving all that Ho
loved. I willed that the water should be pure and clear,
when I resolved to Ay 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 caualn,
when I became, as it were, an universal refuge, for I am
always ready to bring floods of grace and consolation from On
IIig:h 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. Kuowest 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
8wcet Consolatrix arose and was borne to Heaven by myriads
of celestial spirits who conducted her to the arms of her divine
Son. 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 sufiferings, 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,
Kild 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 Hif

^ V

-..^ll

256

LIFE or 8T. BLIZABBTB,

faithful servant. He gave Himself as Spouse to the sulitar;
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
consolation, He even in this vale of tears opened the inezhaoi.
tille and imperishable treasures of heaTen

It.

■i - ;i-^teJ^«t , 'vM^ "t^mit'mi

♦

I .Ui^.

•f MffVO^IIT.

9ft7

CHAPTER XX

low THE DBAB 8T. EUZABETR REFUSED TO MAWtT A 8B0ONI TI1I%
A>D HOW SOB CONSBORATBD UBJI WB|>OU<« 9^Jp|B^'T8 TO JBSU8|
TUii: SPOUSE Of Bfitt SOUL.

•« Eno dllecto meo, et dileetas ra«aa mibi, qal pudtor later lUU.**— OiiUL t1. t.

"Tlie true widow in the Ohnroh is » little violet of M«roh, whloh sends fotth a»
Incomparable sweetneM by the odour of her devotion, and almost always Iceepi

herii'lf concealed und^r the broa«l leaves uf her abjection She grows in cool

inil uncultivated places, not willing to be hnportoned witli the conversatiooa «f
worMlings, the better to preserve tlie oooIquos of her iieart against all the heats wbioh
Uiu (lu:>ire of riehea, of honours, or even of fond litres might bring upon her."— <SI
f, -1111018 de Sales^ Intro. ilL 2.

The melancholy state to whic|i tbis Prineess of birth so
illostrious, aud conaected with tl^e most powerful houses of
the empire, was reduced, could not fail to excite the compas-
tion and intervention of her relatives, as ^on as it became
known to them, The Ducuess Sophia, after m^'l'^iiiS many
aiisuccessful efforts to prevail on her sons to (^meliorate the
condition of poor Elizabeth, sent secretly to inform her aunt^
Matilda, Abbess of ^itzingen, sister of the Qi^een of Hungary,
her mother, of her misfortunes. This pious princess wa^
moved with compassion on hearing the sad tale, and sent a^
once faithful messengers, with two carriages, to seek for he^
uiece and her children, and to bring them to the Abbey, £li^
2ii))cth, oveijoyed to be again with her little ones whom she
loved so ardently, accepted this invitation at once ; and i(
seems that her persecutors dared not to hinder her so doing.
Bo she travelled through the vast forests and over the monn*
tains that separate Tburingia from Franconiai trntil ihe
irrived at Kitiiogen on the y aiot

: : Hi

1 ■' t'i

13 '

4|f il

258

LIFB or 8T BLIZABITB,

H ,1

Tfie Abbess restiTcd her with maternal tenderness, ami
many tears ; she assigned her a lodging suitable to her raiik,
and strove by her kindness to make her forget the many siif
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 cxpresseil
a regret that the care of her childrer prevented her from en-
tering the Order as a religious. Me^u while Egbert, Prince
Bisliop of Bamberg, brother of th> / bbess 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 invltid
her to his dominions. The gentle Princess obeyed, though
perhaps with regret, leaving to the 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 aa
asylum to her mother, and which had been the cradle of lier
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 sht 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, wlio
had nobly shared in all her trials, and in this peaceful home
they resumed by day and by night their practices of piety.
But the Prelate, seeing that Elizabeth was very young, being
6nty twenty years old, and besides of remarkable beauty-
remembering the precept of St. Pad, he conceived the pro

OT BCNOART.

iier the castle

jicl of re-marrjing her. According to nany aathora, he
wished that she should wed the Emperor Frederick II., who
bad just lost his 'jeeond wife, Yolande of Jerusalem. The
£m|)6r:»r himself was also anxious for this, according to the
account of a contemporary writer. The Bishop went to cooh
tutiiiicate to the Duchess his design ; he told her that he
wished to espouse her to a lord far more illustrious and powe^
ful than her late husband. Elizabeth replied with great sweet-
Dc.s.':, 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 tho persecutions she already had suffered,
and showed her the possibility of their renewal after his
death ; for though he resolred to leave her Botensteiu and ita
dcpendancies, 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.
1 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, wh J 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
sufficiently, to take them to Himself.*'

It does not appear that the Duchess then spoke of the vow
of continence which she had made during her husband's lif»

'1 ..

V 4 'I

>.4

if?

106

I,X?I Of > T. kil^ABETH,

.l!

ti ^

ttme, !h case of her sarvtvlr.;^; him, bfff shte bftftfi ttictitionH
'It to hrt* maids of honour, who had madie a siifiilar Vow with
hfet, and who feared that the Bishop Wotild fexcrt h!& power
to annul it. She strove to inspire thecft with tanmg^, by an
to^drance of her own perseverance utider any (Jifduinstftnccs.

'* I have sworn," said she, " to God, ttnd to Wiy lord and
hnsbatid dating his life, that nevet tr<rald I be the wife of any
other man. God, who reads the heart and trnVeils its i.ost
'Secret thotights, knows that I tainde this Vow w!fh a pi!r«
"heart and a firm resolntion. I rely oh His itteiry — it is im
possible but th^t He will defend my chastity iigaiiigt all the
projects of m*jn and against their violencfe. Mittift w^s no! a
conditional vow, made in case tha% it 8h<)uld please my part ntg
and friends-^bnt a free, willing, lind absolute me to coi:so
tttite myself entirely, after the drnth of iny 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, 1
will protest against it before the Aitaf, and if I fihd ho other
meani? of escaping, I will cut off my nose, and thus render
myself an object of horror to all." Still she was disquieted
on this ii'count, for from the fitra will of the Bishop, slie
knew she would have many and severe conflicts t^ endure iu
brder to remain faithful to God and her conscience. She waa
ieissed with a great sadness. She had i'eConr^ to the Supreme
Consoler, and kneeling at His feet, bathed in tears, she begged
of Him to watch over the tr^asurfe she hftd cOttsfecrated to
Him. She also addressed hetftelf to the Qaeen of Virgina,
who had been given to her as 4 mbtheS*. Neitheir disdained
hef prayers, aad peace was restored to her bohI. Bhe soon
felt qnite tranquillized, and toiifiated with boilndlesd conO*
flence iti the mercy '6f Heaven.

It is doubtless to this time that the felcltafs Of Idbial tradi-
tions, reliatitig to some journeys made hf EliMbeth, te^r, and
flreie she ondertook, either to escafie tiie iiAportobitiM of het

Of avxiART.

incle, 6r to tndalge seme motives Of derotioh or piool
cariosity.

These causes woold soffice in that ftge, notHrithstanding
the difficolty of commanicstioD, to make teen travel more,
than coald, even in Our day, the desire of accnmnlating
Hi lies or the restlessness of modern iratellers. The poor,
i; iufirm, even women yielded tO the des?re of praying in
KOiO'7 -iclf'^^ratcL ^ahctnary, olr of VeneriEiting the relic** of some
especially brlovvjd 8i!nt — ^lo pl-otide for their old oge somi
Kwoet mctnories of pilgrimages made nnder the protection of
God and of Hip liOly attgels.

Elizftbeth iVont twice to Blrfurth, a town celebrated for
tb' niinber and beanty of its suered edifices, situated iu th^
cottre ol her husband^s dominidns, though belonging to the
Archbishop of Mayeuce. She here selected aS her dwellings
place, a cohv^n^ of penitent Wonren, called White Nttns, and
there she remained during sevet'al days ih the most strict
retreat. When leiiving, She gave them the glass which she
was wont to tis^ at her frugal hiigkls, which is still preserved
there as a mehiorial of her j^oodhess and hnnulity. Tlie
convent is how occhpied by a commnnity ot Ursnlin'es, and
they show a little room looking over the Ohnrch, which, it is
said, was occupied by the dfear St. Elizabeth. Abbot th\i
time, she also weht to visit the dwelling of her maternal an*
cestors at Andechs, situated dh k height near the Alps which
Bcparate Bavaria from the Tyrol. This ahcient and famoas
Castle had been jttst converted by Heni7, Margrave of Istriir,
also an nncle of Elizabeth, Ihto A nibnastery of Benedictines, or
according to others, of regular canons of St. Augustine, which
has since been rendered remarkable bjr the possession of some
of the nibst precious relics in Christendbni, and by the nnm©-
fons mirac'es performed there— Elizabeth caiie to associate;
by h(T presence, in the piOnis f^tiiidntion whidk shbnid forcvet
tend to the hononr tk her fatnHy. From the iommit of thtt

•, »:

<^ J

i >

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■il?

LIFE OF IT. XLISAUITB,

holy moantain she contemplated Bavaria, then rich in the
double beauty of nature and religion — ^full of celebrated mo-
nasteries, some hidden in the midst of the andout forests-,
others reflected io the calm waters of the lakes of that cous).
try — all serring as nurseries of the Christian civilization of
the land, and which for so many centuries still offered an in
violablc 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 oar
Klizabeth 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 I

Our dear Saint also contributed to the veneration with
which this beautiful pliuse was regarded. At the foot ^of
the mountain by her prayers she obtafncd 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. Tliis was her wed-
ding robe — even that worn by her on Hie day that saw her
united to her well-beloved Louis. This she laid upon tlie
Altar, and gave at the same time to the religious a little sil-
f cr 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 parth in-
icribed It amongst the blessed ones of Heaven. Can we tx

OV HCVOAir.

Bftjnished if thenceforth the presenUi of this Saint should
become to this sacred place, priceless treasures, and that even
to tiiis day, notwithstanding past stormy and gloomy years,
the simple and faithful people still come to venerate and kiss
Uiem with respectful love.

NOTE BT THE COUNT MONTALEMBEBT.

The monastery of Andechs on the occasion of the secalar
ization of all the possessions of religious orders by king Max-
imilian of Bavaria in 1806 was sold to a Jewt yet the Church-
and its treasury of relics have been preserved. The wedding
robe of Elizabeth serves there as a covering to three miraca-
lous Hosts. On the principal festivals of the year, a number
of pilgrims meet there, and the inhabitants of the neighbour-
ing villages come processionally, 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 remembe.' before God's Altar, the author of this book.

Note. — The translator entreats the pious pilgrim to th«
Holy Shrine at Andechs, to pny also for her, aod ali thoM
•he holds dear.

' 'If

LIVE ff tl. |kl.A<ABItB«

CHAPTER XXI

BOW TBI DIAB ST. KUZ4DftnD RECEirCD TBI RKMAim 07 HA
BUSBAHO, AMP BOW THXT WPIUS DTrBHRIU) AT RBYMnARTSBKlNN.

f ^D«dlett TM Domloo, qui r«cUtls misertconlUm b«ao earn DttoBlao rmtro, «!

sepellatis eum/'— 3 /f«{r. U. {S.

"Requiem Ubl debit Domlnus M>inper, et Implebit apileiidoribue fotmam taena,

•t OBMi tuA dberabH.**-/*. IvUI. i.

So«bce:.t had Elizabeth retnrned to Botenstein when a
oaesseiigbr from tlie Bishop came to request her presence ut
Bamberg, in order to receive th« remains of her husbaDd
which the Thdiingian knights, after their r^tarn from the
OruAade, wei-« bringing there.

As we have already seen, the companions of the late Dulse,
after having left his body at Otranto, set ont for Syria in or-
der to accomplish their vow. Those amongst them who wore
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, tliey passed through
Otranto in order to bring home the body of their Sovereign.
Thev disinterred him, and found that his bones were white as
Buow, a sure sign in that age that the husband had preserved
•n inviolate fidelity to his wife.

After having placed these relics in a rich coffin, they kid
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 enery city where they passed a night, they brought the
bier into a Church, and had it watched by monks or other

Of HUNOAIir.

ploii<^ persons, ehannfcing the oiBce of the dead uad otho^
prayers.

They departed not next dnj ant'rl thej had heord Mass
ind made their offerings. If it were at a Cathedral or Coih
Tcntual Chnrcb, they left the pnrple drapery that enveloped
the coffin, that its worth mi^ht be distributed in alms for the
repose of the good prince's soul. In man's memory were
never Witnessed more solemn obseqaies.

The monrnfal cortege thus traversed all Italy and southern
Germany. When arrived at a ^hort distance from Bamberg,
titoy sent to Warn the Bishop Of their approach, and he im-
mediately summoned the Duchess from Botenstein. At the
RSiue time, he ordered all the nobles and dignitariei of his
court to mci^t her with befitting sympathy, and to watch
carefully over her, lest dnring 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 yarions monasteries, and the children of the
Fichools ; an immense crowd folIOi^ed and mingled their voices
with tlie funeral chaunts of the priests, and with the sonnd 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 chaanted.

The next day Elizabeth, accompanied by her ever faithful
Ysentruie and Guta, was conducted to the place where
the precious teWcs reposed ; they opened the coffin and per-
mitted her to look upon the remains of hei" husband. "Then/*
Bays the pious narratOr of this scene, " what her heart felt of
grief and love none could know but Him who reads the
lecrets 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

). .J

LirS or ST. ILIfABKTII,

>!'

fonreiitly kIsMd them ; her team flowed abandantly ; hor a0
tatioD was kg violent that the bishop uitd the nobles |)r« s. nt
•trove to console her tud to letid her away from tin; sa*]
■pectaole. But she remembered God, and immediately all
her strength of inin<l was rentored. " I thanii you, O Lord,**
•aid she, ** for having deigned to Unten to my prayer, and for
having granted my earnest wish in pt>rmitting mo to l<)oi[
upon the remains uf him, my beloved and yours. I tluink
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 sacrilice,
though I loved him with all my heart's ardour. You know,
O my God, how I loved this husband, who loved you so
much ; you know that I would prefer him to all the deli<,'lits
of this world, if your goodness permitted it. You know.that
with him I would be willing to spend my life in misery, und
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 1"

This was the last cry of vanquished nature, the last sh^h
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 tho
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

OF RUiVOART.

i?li. told them of the ''niel conduct of the Landgraves llenry
iiid Conrad to them and to herself, and of the misery they
lind endured at Eisenach. The Bi.«hop in \m turn confirmed
th<' recital of the Dqchess, and npoke with the kniglits on the
m'lins to be used to repair the wrongs done to the widow
mill orphans of their sovereign. A lively indignation waf
miiiifestcd by the pilgrims when they heard of the sufferingt
of the young Duchess. They declared that they would always
reniird her as their lady and uiistress, and would defend her
n;rainst 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
daujrhter, and with his broth ers-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 Tliuringio, 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
wiiose 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 bode them
farewell, and took leave also of the Dtichess and her children.
Tiie mournful procession set out for the abbey of Reyaharts-
brunn, where the pious Lonis had chosen his burial place.
Meanwhile the news of the arrival of the remains of the
beloved sovereign reached Tharingia, and created there •

fit •» 1

LIFE QF ST. fLISLADKTH,

!•!

great sensation. Not only did the Duchess Sophia, mothet
of Louis, with her sous, Henry and Conrad, liasten to Heyn
hartsbrnun to meet the funeral^ but also t je counts, lords,
and knights of the country, and, in remembrance of the ^rood
prince who had so tenderly cared for and energetically pro.
tected them, an immense multitude of people, rich and pour,
r»f town and of country, men and women, assembled at lU vn-
hartsbrunn to pay the last honours to him who so short a
time befDre parted from them for God's honour to meet under
a foreign sHy 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 iu the Holy Wars ; and also the interest
which was everywhere, but at Eisenach, felt for the Duclass
Elizabeth, the recital of her woes, and of her exile which
bad 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 foy t,he champion
of the Church and of the Holy Sepulchre. The monks from
whom he had parted with so much affection, and with a toe
»tKely 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
bis 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 t abbey church, in presence of the two Duchesses, and
the two young Landgraves, who, before the remains of Loui^,
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
iajB. The sighs and tears of the poor were the most povol

or HuwaA^T.

909

tnd beaaiifal features in the faneral pomp. Generoas oiTer*
inirs were given to the Chorch, and abundant alms distributed
to t))c indigent, as the last tribute of respect to him who had
go well loved the poor and venerated the Cimrch. Uis re-
mains were enclosed in a shri^e, 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 theoL
The people's love, and the gratitnde of the monks, decreed to
Louis the surname of the pious, under which he is known io
history, and which was confirmed by many miraculous cures
obtained at his tomb through his invocation. Thus was he
(hiring 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 brokei^
stone of his sepulchre in that Church which is no longer Cath,-
olic. In contemplating this last memorial, we cannot refuse ^
tribute of respect ^nd admiration to this prince, who, though
ttie Church has not enrolled hiqn an^ongst her holy oo^k wap
it least tl;e worthy husbiuid of a aaifii.

' »

' ;t

«70

Liri or IT. XLIZABKTBi

CHAPTER XXII.

■Oir THt THimTKOIAN KNIflllTS VADE DUKB HBIIHT RBFKIIT OF BIS
^TCXmffKSS, AKD HADE niM RENDER AMPLE JUSHCB TO Till
DBaM 8T. ELIZABETH.

i;^

1.^

**Ap«rl M tnam mtito, et causIs omnlntn flllornm qui pertrtnMnnt: tperl n
taamy deoeruo qnodjtutum ost, et Jadioa inopom et puuperum."— Prov. xxxi. 8 9.

Immediately after the termination of the obsequies, the
Lord Do Varila 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 retired
to deliberate upon it.

" We rauGt now,** said Lord Rodolph, " keep the vow
which we made 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 Gre
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 kniglits, whose names, says the historian,
merit to be preserved with immortal glory. These were,
first, the Lord De Varila, great cupbearer, who was to speak
in the name oi all, as being the most eloquent, and who, with
his family, was most attached to the Duchess ; and with him,
Ludolph de Berstetten, Ilartwig de Herba, and Gaultier do
Varila, related to Rodol[»h. Preceded by these, all the
knights weut to meet the young princes, whom they found

OP h(;noar7.

871

•;«^

with their mother. The Lord De Varila, taming towards
Duke Henry, addressed to him the foUowiiig words, which
have been carefully and with good reason recorded in the
rlironicles of the country : —

" My Lord, my friends and yonr vassals who are hero
jir* sent, have requested me to speak to you in their name.
We liave heard in Francooia, and even h«rc in Thurin;]jia, of
coiuluct of yours so blomeable, that it has filled us with
consternation, and given us reason to blush in thinking
tliat in our country and amongst our princes, so much
iiiipioty a>ad infidelity, and such a want of honour, could bo
fuiind.

" Young prince, what have you done, and who has given
you counsels so nefarious ? What I you have driven igno-
miiiiously from your castles and from your cities, as if she
vns a wicked woman, your brother's wife, the afflicted
wi'low, tlie daughter of an iiiustrious king, whom, on the
contrary, you should have honoured and consoled. Forget-
tini^ even your own renown, you have exposed her to sutfeiiug
a)i(l left her to wander through the streets as a mendicant.
When vour brother devoted his life for the love of God, his
lifle orphans, whom you should havo defended and cherished
like a faithful guardian, were cruelly repulsed by you, and
voii knew that they even had to be separated from their dca?
mother to prevent them dying of hunger with her. Is this
your fraternal love? Is this \rhat you learned from voor
brother, that virtuous prince, who would not act in such a
iimnner towards the meanest of his subjects ? No ; the
rudest peasant would not be so guilty towards one of his
t'llows, as you, a prince, have been to your brDther, when
♦he went to fight and die for the love of God ! How can
w(» now trust to youi fidelity or your honour ? You know
that as a knight you are sworn to protect widows and
orphan.s, and you are yourself the first to wrong the orphans

272

ItTM Of 8T. ELIZABKTR,

and the widow of yonr brother I tell yoii plainly that i?ncb
conduct cries to Hearen for yengeance."

The Duchess Sophia, on hearing thes6 ^ell-racrited re-
proaches addressed to her son, burst into tears. The younf^
Duke, annoyed and ashamed, hung his head, without ro| liv-
ing. The Lord de Varila then resumed : — " And, my Lord,
whnt had you to fear from a poor weakly womun, anji^uish-
stricken and alone, without friends or allies in this country ?
What injury would this noble and virtuous lady have (Imiu;
yun, even if she had remained mistress of all yoiir castles?
What will now be said of you In other coontriea? How
shameful I I blush to think of your degradation. Kr.ow
that yea have offended Qod — that you have dishonoured thij
country of Thuringia — that you have sullied your own fume
and that of your noble house ; and I fear, indeed, that the
wrath of God will fall heavily bn Onf latod, u<iless you do
penacce 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 Qod made use of his wortJs
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 counsell'd
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 ray
life and my possession:^ as you will." The Lord de Varil%
replied — " 'Tis well ; that is the only means of escaping the
wrath of God." Nevertheless, Henry could not refrain from
•ayiog, in a low voice— " If uy sister Elizabeth owned the

G» n UNO ART.

27.1

irhole empire of Qermany, none of it would she retain fof
neiscif, but would give it all away for the love of Ood."

Do Varila then went with his companions to announce to
Eli/.aheth the result of his remonstrances, and to inform hef
tluit hor brother-in-law was anxious to ht reconciled, and to
do li?r justice. When they began to speak of the conditions .
to he imposed on Duke Ilenry, she cried out — " I want
luitlier his castles nor his riches, nor anything that would
tonil to trouble or distract me : but I would be grateful to
niv brother-in-law if he would give me what is due of my
dowry, in order to defray the expenses of what I wish t«
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.
Wlien he saw her, he begged forgiveness for the injuries he
bad done her, said that he regretted them Sincerely, and
that he would moke ample atonement. Elizabeth answered
by embracing him tenderly and beginning to weep. The
two brothers and the Duchess Sophia mingled their tear!<
with hers, and the valiant warriors could no longer remain
nnmoved 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 Thnringia 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 Wartburg from
thichshehad been so heartlessly expelled, (a. d. 1228-1229.)
13*

«74

Liri Of HT BLISABBfB,

CnAPTER XXIII

sow TBI DEAR SlIICT ELIZABETH RENOUNCBD THE WORLDLT TIFI,
AND, IlETIRINO TO HtRBTRO, ASSUMED TORKK THE HABIT OF THI
ORDER OP THE GLORIOUS SAINT FRANCIS.

i
I

"Un-* A petll ftlOnmino, htne fiqutmn, at Inhabltorn In domo Domino omnlbu
llcbns viue mc:.* lu vidcam volnpUtem DomlnL . . . Quoniiun »b6C00dlt me li
tab«nuculo sao." — P»alm xxvl. 7, 8, f

•♦ Pw Pninclsl clwrdula,
Mantello. tnntcaln,
Porpanm depntuiC

Ancient proMfor St. Elizabeth^ in fK»
Franciacan Manual of Mlfli

Duke Henrt was faithful to his promises, and, doring all
the time that Elizabeth remained with him, be stroTe by the
most respectful affection to obliterate the remembrance of the
many sufferings he had caused lier 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, tX Gotha, which she had planned during
her husband's life-time, and which she completed at her returi)
to her possessions.

As before, her love for the poor occupied in her heart all
tliat was not devoted to piayer A<id contemplation. Freed
by her widowhood from the obligation of appearing at festival!
and public ceremonies, she avoided all occasions of sliariog in
the banquets given to the nobles, or in the other rejoicings of
the court, which she knew were too frequently provided I'V
oceans derived from the oppression and hard labour of Hit

OF BCKOART

275

lowly. She preferred to the pomp of this world's power
the humiliations of God*8 poor people, and associated bersell
to them as much as possible by the practice of voluntarj

povtTty.

The sight of such a life offered too severe a lesson to the
cotiitiors and to the false knights who had caused her so much
Butr* ring in her youth and in the early days of her widowhood,
Doi to re-animate their dislike towards her. To be reveugtid
for her contempt for the riches and pleasures which they prized
above all things, they affected to despiiie herself. They would
neither speak to nor visit her. If by chance they met her,
iiey profited of the .oppoitunity afforded them to call her, in
m audible tone, a mad tooman and a fool. She endured these
insults with equanimity; her fac". expressed so much bappi-
Desi and resignation, that they accused her of hnving alreaiiy
forgotten the death of her husband and of indulging in un-
Keinly 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 ^y calumnies, and to have manifested to her
daughter-in-law feelings of surprise and indignation ; uy- Eliza-
beth was not troubled, for the Lord, who was all in all to her,
read the secrets of her heart.

On the otiier 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-
ti;iii soul — ^the most powerful prot-ection to a rajiligned
woman. From the Holy See, which was then the only suie
r<'fuii^e of the feeble and the persecuted, words of friendly
a!!tl fatherly tenderness were uttered to strengthen and to
honour her. The same Cardinal Ugolino, whom we have
already seun acting as iuternaediary between oor priuceai

1 1 n

970

LirS Qf 4T. fL^X^BITH,

.'I

and St. Francis of Aasisiom, ha4 bocome Pope, nndcr the
namo of Gregory IX., aiKJi having heard of her suffcriuj^ra,
and of her unalterable Qdelifty in the path traced out for her
by God, addressed to her a letter replete with a])ostolie cou-
•pintion ^e exhorted her, l^y the exaraplos of tlie saints,
and by the hope of eternal life, to persevere iii contlDcnce
and patience : he enjpined 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 spi( ial
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. Thrs 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 Duehesg
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 tlie
faithful gave a new impulse to her courage, or whether
obeying the wonderful influence of Divine grace in her hiart,
she soon ent-ertained tho idea and earnest desire of embracing
a life more perfect and more united to God. Though,
assuredly, she was as much as [X>s8ible 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 >^hat maimer of life would bo most
pleasing to God, and ha?ing examined the different rules of
the Mouafitic Orders then existing, and even the solitary life
of the recluses, the remembrance and example of the glorious
«craph-8(^int of As^isium, whoae child she was already, ad »
Feuiteut of the Third Order, gained the mastery in her Ueart {

ef BUNOAET.

ih felt the same courage, the same love of God ftiid of
poviTty, «*8 he (lid ; she ret^olved upon embractiig hU rule in
nil its prinutive rigour, and like him aud his fervent disci-
pics, after having renounced all thingn, to go and Ik\9; her
hi'iad from door to door. She mentioned her docisiou ^
Miister Conrad, and humbly requested his consent Bol
this prudent director rejected UiU idea with indignation, and
[favo her a soircre reprimand, being jicrsuaded that her sex
ami weaivucss forbade her such a life. Siie still iusisted oar-
IK stiy, shedding an abundance of tears ; but as lie was stead-
ta>t in refusing, she left hira, crying out, "You shall see; I
will do something that you cannot prevent I" But when she
saw that she could not vanquish Conrad's resistance for that
time, she had recourse to other means to satittfy the ardour and
ttal by which she was animated*

The Regent Henry, as we hate already said, whatever
nnirlit have been his secret thoughts upon the manners and
fotlings of his sister-in-law, always testified to her the resj)ect
and affection which he had sworn over th© ashes of his brch
tlur, and paid to her honours which the humble princiifli
would fain decline receiving ; counting on those good dispo®,-
tions, and after having resided for about a year with her
family, Elizabeth besought Duke Henry to assign to her
Kojne residence where she might entirely devote herself t©
God, without allowing any earthly care to iptierfere with her
works of piety and charity. Henry, after consulting hip
mother and brother, granted the city of Marburg, in Hesse,
with all its dependencies and revenues, to provide for her
niiiliilrniince. Penetrated with gratitude, she thanked he?
mother and brothers-in-law, saying that they did foB hur
more than she deserved, and gave more than w(»uld sufflof
for all her wants. But the Lnndgrave pimuljied to give als4
500 marks pf ^Ivy, to 4^fray the first espouses of her ttt^
blishmcut.

TT '» ■

• !

rrd

Liri Of >T. ELIZABITR,

Master Conrad B^cms not to have approved of this arTaiig^
mcnt, since we find that he w\ >te to the Pot)C that it wai
against his will that the Duchess came into his <;uinitrv.
But as be did not oppose it positively, she profited <.i lili
approacliing departure, to leave Thuriugia, and to go amj
dwell near her spiritual Father in tlie city which deitved
from her name so pure and glorious a renown.

On her arrival at Marbourg, she followed the advice givtn
by Master Conrad, and appointed officers and bailiffs, who
were to administer the laws in her name. The people of tlie
city were so eager to pay tlieir 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, «
river which runs by Marburg. On entering it, she selected
as her habitation the first cabin which she saw, and it wa-)
one deserted and almost in ruins ; this she did, that she mi^rltt
not cause any trouble to lu*^ people in the village, for her
tender solicitnde was alrt ndy awakened in behalf of her now
subjects. For shelter, ^be 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 wii:<i
entered too freely. She prepared also her meagre food as
well as she waaable, and always returned thanks to God. This
miserable hovel protected her neither from the he«»t nor from
the cold, and the smoke seriously injured ?ier eyes, but for
God's sake she endured all these mortifications joyfully.
Meanwliile, 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

OF nmoiRf.

27»

eoiniileied, £ho went tc dwell thero with her children and her
fuiiliful Rorvaut«.

Vet Elizabeth still sought a more signal and ciitirn detacb-
tnciit from the world, ^ind a cIoHer and more manifest bond
ol union with God. littr confessor continued steadfast in
fiOising h^T iHirmission to eml)race the Franciscan rule in all
I* overity, and to beg her bread like the pocr Clares ; yet
iil ;vns still anxious to Imitate, as far as possible, this ^'%
%'AH'U seemed to her to be the tyjKJ of evangelical peH" \
We have seen that during her husband's life-time
been enrolled in the Third Order of St. Francis. She r\
ttirnceforth to give to that affiliation an irrevocable and solemn
( haracter ; and though, previous to that time, this branch of
tie Franciscan family was not looked n]>on as forming a
rt'LTuhir, or, correctly speaking, a monastic order, she wished
to make a public profession, as used the cloistered religioui,
and to renew solemnly the vows of chastity, obedi(mce, and
absolute poverty which she had so frequently made in her
heart. Elizaljeth was thus enabled to associate herself, as
far as possible, in that glorious renunciation of this world^a
^ealth which has during so rnany centuries merited for the
Seraphic Order the special protection of God and thcadmira*
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
Henry. But on the contrary, she was gradually to apply
til m to the relief of the poor, and to the lif(uidation of
I crtain debts incurred by her late husband, the good Dako
Louis.

Nevertheless, she renounced this wealth in spirit, as she
did all earthly aff'^ctions, eren the most legitimate. To gain
this victory, not only OT>jr the world, but even ovei bef

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LIPK er ST. fLlCABITB,

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owtt 8oa1, ibe pioos EUatbeth knew tbtit gfMter strength
was required than what could be derived trmn her own will,
and the examples of the Blessed Francis, tat6 of the other
holy souls who had preceded her in the paths 6f perfection.
She knew that grace from abore was alone scfBclehtly power-
ful for this, and she begged it firom God, witb mot\j than hor
wonted frrvour, for several days before she assumed the
habit. She informed her friend Y^ntnidto that she inces-
santly prayed to the Lord for three fatoors, — first, an entire
disregard of all temporal wealth, then th^ coamge to disdain
the injuries and calumnies of m^n, and, flmdly, the dimina-
tion of the excessive love she bor6 ib her children. After
having for some time sought these gdtces, Abe came one day
to her companions, radiant with more liban earthly joy, ahd
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 eyefs. The calumnies
of men, the false sayings of the wicked, and th^ contempt
which they lavish npon me, have become to me sources of
pride and happiness. My little ones^ these childnfn beloved
of my heart, are become, as it were, strang^s io me. This
God sees. It i# to bhn I offer thcm~to bis care I cOnfide
them. May his holy will be done in all things I I no longer
love anything, nor any cteMore : hencefbrth the Great
Greator alone possesses my heart.** Inflamed with tliis
heroic lote, Elizabeth thought herself sttfllci^tly well-di^-
posed to make her vows and to take the habtt consebrate^.
by her glorious models, St. Fran6is and St. Glare. " If I
eonld," 6aid she, "find a rale poor&r ttiaii ihti of Clare,
I would embrace it, to condole myself for not b^ing allowed
to enter her Grder. But I know of none such.*' She se<
lebted U» this cdremony the' Gborcb of tAie FridrS Minors
and the feast of Good Friday. The d«t ffhtu JeMs Christ
#«l{MHle4 of aU for omr lore was wHed ttf iht Ctoaa, and oa

Of ai7N9#RT.

Mrhicli the alUrs »re bacied »qil oncpverocl m Qe wai, to f»
uiiiid the faithful of t^e ^upreipe Sacrifice ; aud this was Ihf
•Jav that CSliafkbqth (i fi^rred ia \mf turn to renounce i^l Ihiug^
»iiii to rend the If^t ^'m ^bf^t |)9UDd her to earth, ifi order M|
foliu\v more perfectly the Spouse of her soul in t^ wajg q(
poverty ai^ <^rity.

Thus on thif bjpssed 4ay» ill the presence of her chUdreo,
ht-r friends, and seTeral Franciscan Fathers, she came to lay
her holy bfnds on i\^ bare Altar stone, and there vowed ^
renounce her will, l^er phildren, her rehitions, her companion!^
aud all th^ ponpps f^d pleasures of Uus world.

Brother Buf)Lbard, Quardian of the Friars Minors pf Hessep
who looked upon Eltfabetb as his spiritual child and friend,
cut off her hair, clo.thjBd hef witii ^he grey robe, and girde^
lier with the c^fd iif hich was the distinctive mark of the Qvdpf
of St. Franci^, whilst Mf^^r Coprad celebrated M^ss. Sh«
wore this co^|ume, ^n^ e?£r after went barefooted. From tbi4
uioniept, top, as |f V> o^li^tr^te tt^e refnen^brance of her pasi
grandeur, shf) su|l^t|tote4 on hier se^ thjB figure of a bar^
footed FrancisfCfM) re^ig^us in placf^ of tjhe ^rpu^rial l^ar^^

of her hu^h^4'§ ^WIJ ¥^^ ^P? ^^

Gutfi, hpr ip4i4 of honour, who bad beei^ her faithful apd
iusepari^ble cofopanion from childhood, was now unwilling t^
had a diferen^ ktqd of life frpm that of her dear mistresi.
She also assumed ^be bi^blt qf the Third Order, and s(iJ<;!iinl|^
renewed tb^ vpw of ctu|st^ty wl^icl^ she bad made some y^arf
before duri^ tbo l^e of Puke Louis. This community of lift
and fp^ling w^ %9 J^liau^beth a ^onso^tjoii, which she proba-
hly would have denied herself, had she been aware of Ooti^'i
ii.tcution ; it if as one, however, of which she was very soon
deprived.

Bu( now 1^ fitep^mt necessary tp part with her children,
«hoiu she rep^i^ed herself for loiing tqo ardently, ^e9
lou HeiruMli^^ N^ ^t-^ifn, ai^ hi^ir to ^he ■ov^eigntjf ^

t fc.-)

189

IIP! or ST. ILIIABBTB,

t ,

I I

! 1

hb father's possessions, at this time between six and m ffn
fears of age, was sent to the castle of Creatzbarg, to rcinain
ii: good and safe keeping until be should be old enouiirli to
assume the reins of gOTemment, which were then held l)y l.ifi
ancle, as regent.

It is probable that the same place was also the home of
her eldest daughter, Sophia, already affianced to the yoiiii;>
Duke of Brabant. Her second daughter, Sophia, returned
to the abbey of Kitzingen, where she was to take the veil,
and where she remained during her whole life. The youiij^^est
of all, the little Gertrude, scarcely two years old, born after
her fathcr^s death, was sent to the convent of the ProDion*
stratensian nuns of Aldenburg, near Wetzlar. Erery one
was ast. i.iHhed 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 nnd
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 sacr* • perfect — her
entire separation from the world consummate , .^y one of those
efforts which even exceed the precepts of Christian duty.
Yhere 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 il pintle, " / /ire, but ii is no
longer I who live, but it i» Jettue Chritt who lives in meP —
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 thu
lime had but one voice to proclaim aloud the madness of thii
tpoime of Christ, tnd they wer« not deceived, (br she had

or BUNOART.

ic<I' '.(J compreheadcd and embraced in its fallest extent the
'^ .ed folly of the cross.

\\'liat the courtiers of Tharingia then said is, and donbtlen
fill be, often repeated by those who, haricg admired tba
P'tic history of her early years, are amazed and shocked at
(his decisive crisis in her life. " What ?** say they, "stiU bq
joiing, and having so many daties to perform, so much of
lawful 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 I" And many other futile reasons in which
this wordly wisdom is so rich, that it but knows bow to ca-
lumniate all that is above the comprehension of its selfishneM,
or stronger than its weakness.

Faithful souls I 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 obo*
dience to the words of our Saviour, " ff any tnan come to m$
and hate not his father, and mother, and wi/e, and children^
and brethren, and Misters, yea, and his oum life a/to, he cannot
he my discipk.** — St. Luke, xiv. 26.

We must not be surprised that the world should despise
and insult her, for, following Christ, she conqnered the world.
In the war that it wages from earliest youth with the soul
redeemed by the blood of God, she had brnvely fuught ; with
iiei- weak hand she took up the gauntlet iu the lists, and
fearlessly engaged in the conflict, avoiding not its wounds^
bill living in the midst of attacks and innumerable snaresi
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
iu> rights over her, braved its calumnies, scorned its contempt

ill

1^ \\

Liri of it. SllkiBBTB,

iRfe Vaoqulshcd It in et^ ptAce and at erery tiiM— in the
riches and splendoar of a coart, as writ iM iu the Mttcrm ti
df hangcr^plnched poteHy — in this moiBt cherished ftfTci tium
Of the heart, as weft as tn iti most serere trials, it aiigir.>ii,
desolation, and death. Neithiir the ties of conjugal life, nor
ilie niotcrnal love of her hitert, nor eVen reputation, the last
df earthly treasures, was over prized by her. And if now
she i'etlred flrom her fik, it ^ras because Uie had been vieto
Hbus in the struggle. Entering the battle-fic/ld hi her cliild-
hdod, she left it not until she had completely Tanqnishcd lur
toetny.

Now that she hitd o^etccAan^ the wiles of the wicked ser-
pent, it was permitted to her to lay do^n her arms, and to
await, sorrounded by the mysterloos joyi of p^irertj and ob»
dkiico, the lUy ot Etemid triomplL

«» irtK4iBt.

CHAPTEH XIT.

smAT porcRTT iM waicB m dbar sr. SLnuun

LITBU, AND BOW 8HS ADTANCBD Ol HVHIUTT AMD MKBCr TO*

WABDS ALL CREATURES.

"Manmn siuan nfsit ad fortia «t dlgRl ejus ■ppnhaiHlcniat ftNatn. Ibaaii
tMin apcniit Inopl et pdiiiM kom •ztondlt ad f»npmtaL"—Prv9. xxxU It, •).

** kaum, dleo rolilt, qoaoidla ladstli obI w bU flntcibaa bmI "«*«'«'«*^ mtM IM»
tk."-8. MiiUh. T. 40.

'^ ElflSt aljMtut «M"— Al IxEdU. 11.

ELiZABETti, devoted ialdn^ to Qod, wished tbat the toIiiii*
tary poverty she bad embraced shoald be as complete as poa>
Bible ; she was anxious that all should correspond with th«
poor cotta^ she had chosen for her dwelling-place. She
coiisecratied all the revehnes that Master C6nrad obliged he^
to retain nominally, to the relief of the poor, and to the sua*
tainmeht of charitable institutions.

Not having succeeded in obtaining her confessor's permis*
Bion 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. Sha
osed to get from the monastery of Altenberg wool for her
work, and, when it was all spun, she used to send it to th«
ouns, who paid her for her labour, but not always to the full
value. She, on the contrary, wais scrupulously exact in per*
forming her ta^k. One day that she had received pa3r^:jent
in advani^e for a certain quantity of work. Master Conrac* sent
for her to go with him firom Marburg to Eisenach ; Seeing
that she could not spin all the wool, she seht the little that
r^maliii^ dhdobe, with the yarn, ti the convent, aiid littli il

980

LirS Of IT. XtllABlTB,

a Cologno pcnnj, lest she might be accused of takitig tot
mnch money for her labour. She worked so incessantly, that
even when weakitess or illness confined her to bed, and wlien
her companions took away the distaff, that she might have some
rest, to avoid idleness she ased to disentangle and arrange wool
for fature ase. She earned by this means sufficient to luiike
her offerings to the churches, and to provide for her support
Nothing could be coarser or more simple than her fool. It
any brought her anything delicate or savoury, she used at once
to send it to some poor person in her hospital without eveD
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
l)e, 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 8tuff.

Iler 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 podrest classes only ; this robe was
often torn and patched, and was confined round her waist bj
a coarse cord. Her mantle, of the same stuff as her gown,
had become too short, and was lengthened by a pieot of

Of BUKOABT.

88t

inotler colour. WhcDerer the found scrapfc of cloth sbt
QM'd to gather tliom up, to mend the rents and burnt on
btr garments, with her own hands, though the did not well
know how ic sew. She feared not to go out in this coetuni^
tnJ this confirmed profane men in the opinion they had
conceived of her insanity ; whilst pious souls looked upon
her aa a second Saint Clare. And wretched aa these clothtt
were, she frequently deprived herself of them to gire them to
poor people, so that through thd intense cold of winter she
was often obliged to remain by her humble hearth, or to lie
ander 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 pare 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 becD
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 distil ^:on,
but should simply call her by her baptismal name, Elizabeth ;
ind also that when addressing her they should use the proi
nouns Thee and Thou, as if speaking to an equal or to an in
ferior.

She endeavoured rather to serve them than to be serred
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 peWortn, without incurring remarks,'
tlicse works servile in the eyes of men, but ennobled befort
God by sublime humility, she used to give various com
misdons to her attendants, and when they bad returned aftei'

\H\

hll

r I

%%9

LIFI Qf PT. PVI<4**T>»

i I

eiecuting tbom, they woul4 find ibftt ihw mistreaf bad Uoih

nil their ivoik. After havipg prepi^red her repasH, m we Luvi

•een, she would noftke them li^ by her at table and eat fioio

the same pll^e. Oi^e of t|ieni, named Irraengarde, who related

Cltese matten to the ecclesiastiual judges, amazed at the sighi

•f 10 much humility in a princess formerly so powerfMl, Haid

to her one day: ^Surely, madam, you acquire great nicrii

by your conduct towards os, bot you forget the danger to

which you expose i^s, that of filling us with pride, by ))er-

mitting us to eat with yoq, 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 t^nd chi^rity were beyond meaaure ; nothing could

irritate or proToke her to give way to the least disoQntent.

She spoke frequently and for a long time with her companions ;

the heavenly sweetness ap4 gaiety of her heart, as it were,

flowed over, in these familiar conversations, which were most

profitable to t)ie souls of thos^ who listened to her. But she

coqld npt bear that any one. should utter in her presence wordi

of vanity or leyity, or th^t t|iey should give way to anger or

impatience \ she would itjiterropt theq^ always, saying, " Well,

where is our Lord now 1^ and she would reprove the guilty

one with aa authority tea^p^«;4 by grace aqd gentleoefn.

In the midst of this life, a|»parcntly so mortified and bum-
ble, but so glorious before God, and so fruitful in ineifable joyi
lb her who had devoted herself so entirely to Him, Elizabeth
cpuld not forget ^hat was to her, softer the care of her soal'a
salvation, tlie first and only interest ojT her terrestrial life, the
comfort of her poor and afflicted brethren. Having renounced
all, more surely to find Jeeps in Heaven, she could not neglect
his sufering memberjs on earth. |f ot contented with devoting
to the use and comfort of the poor the entire proceeds ff her
|«rcf)erty, so far as thti^t she reserved not for herself a^ laueb

07 BUVOARr.

IS would lerTe to sustaio life, and thut her Director wh
obiiu'cd to set a limit to lier expeiulituhs ; she, a§ in early
jroirs, tonght by her caree to alleTiutc fttill further tlicir idIm*
rics by cleausiiig the sorci and wounds of their bodies, and
louring the balm of consolation into tlieir wcury bearta.
When she arrived at Marbui^ her firi^t care was to erect ao
buspital, which she dedicated to the memory of St. Francis
of Assisium, according to the injunction of Pope Oregory
IX. The pontiff, who had just canonized that angelic man,
thought H right, on the occasion of the translation of his body,
to send to his intrepid and faithful imitatriz, a present fsff
more precious than the mantle which she formerly received
witii 80 mach 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. Elizas
kth received this blessed gift in the same spirit that inspired
tli(! 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 oor
Redeemer. She thought she could not better dispose of this
holy relic than to enshrine it in the hospital, to the service of
wiiich 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 friend:^ and sisters in religion, Guta
and Ysentrade, she osed 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
hi8 state of corporal sufferings or the spiritual wants of his
louj. It was not the charitable instincts of her heart, or the
secessity oi gratifying her desire of comforting her neighbour
tloQo, that she seemed to obey, but as if she strove to find to
these works of mercy another means of immolating her flesh lo
18

? I

i«i

*-\l\

s *

;♦ 4]

^'W

Llfl or iff. BLtlAIITB,

Wten conquered, the tranifonoed them into mortificatlunH ofi
new and extraordinkry kind ; and we can hardljr diacriiniuau
which held the greatest sway in he/ heart, the lore of h^r
neighbour, or the hatred of that bodj of lin which alooe
■eparated her from her ditine Savicar. She waa not tilone
the congolatrix of the poor, bat even their slave, and no ser-
vice appeared to her to be too repulsive, too difficnU, too itwut;
for each one of them was, in her eyes, the living image of the
Heavenly Spouse of her soul. Those amongst the sick wIiom:
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 tu
them with familiarity, and often kissed their ulcers and fri);ltt
fill sores. In the memory of man was never heard of so won-
derful a triumph over the repugnance of the senses, uiiitril to
so much ardour and perseverance in the practice of the most
humble devotion. All were astonished that such a life (tlie
like of which had never been heard of, even in the histories
of the saiuta) 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 ploiu
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 site
brought home, and whose hands and feet she washed : this
time, the occupation so disgusted her that she shuddered, imt
immediately she repressed this feeling and said to herself.
" Ah, ugly month, 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 wei^ on tin
Craaa, you tasted Tinegar and gall — I am not worthy of that

or RUWOABT.

Aid nie to become more worthy of portaking yoar rafferinge.*
\a\»'T9, who 00 aecouut of the lo easily spread cootagioo of
(li« ir fearfol malady, were objects of horror to maukiod ia
^iinral, were on this account more beloved and teaderly
lari *l for by her. Bhe bathed them herself, and often cot op
(urtiiins aikd other precious cloths to dry them after learing
tlio l>ath ; sho made their beds and laid them in them. " O !
how happy are we,** said she one day to her attendants, " to
W able thus to cleanse and clothe oar Lord I" To which one
of them replied : " Yoo, 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
gboiiid 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.

lint it was not alone to the corporal necessities of her
brethren that this ardent disciple of Christ confined her soli-
citude and benevolence — she nevor 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 hiive
their children baptized immediately after birth, and that all
the sick should a^ for and receive the holy Sacraments, not
iloiie at their last hour, but also when they entered the ho»
}tital. 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
te))id by a long absence from their duties as members of the
Church ; then did she unite the energy of Christian zeal to
her habitnal sweetness.

One day a blind man presented himself at the hospital and
demanded admittance. Elicabeth came ap at the same mo^

.' r

i'1

i ..

^^I#

LIFI OF ST. ILItABITH,

■.ill

il.

meot, aocDmpanied by Muter CoDimd ; she joyfiiny connoted
to the poor man's admissioa on conditioo thai he would cum
Qience by healing the woanda of his sool, Mid approach the
triboDal of peuaur^. Bat the blind man, impatient from his
malady, and outioyed by this exliortation, began to bla.spli< me
and to carse ^uch sopcrstitioos cnstoms, as be called tliini ;
Elizabeth, indignant at such language, reproved liim with
such vehemeDce that he was niddenl) touched with coniptinc-
tion, and kueeling, he immediately confessed bis sins to Mas-
ter Conrad.

Fur 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 neighbuu^
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 meet 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 remnanti
of her worldly life, which she had secretly sold. She waa
always ready to perform even the roost menial offices for thcso
poor people and to supply their least wants. One day in
winter a sick woman asked her for some fi;^ ; Elizabeth rau
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 snlTi^ring one.** And
having searciied 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 to
^nrre a special exercise of compassion, or if their devotioo
or resignation was more perfect than that of other patient^

Of BUVOARr.

ihe woald bring them not onlj to her hospital, bat even intc
her own dweiliog, there to naree them vith the tendered
c&ro, and to make them sit at her own table. Conrad remou
strated with her on this subject, bot she replied to liim, " Q
my dear Master, leave theni to me ! Remember mj past lift
in the pride and pomp of tlie world ; we mnst cnre an evil b^
its contrary virtue. I must now live with the poor ilnd ham
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 repnlslre 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 tho
most humiliating services, and tenderly consoling him with
the most affectionate words.

He died, and wsis succeeded iii t^er 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 t^ie Lord who had deigned to present Himself to
her concealed In the person of this poor creature under a veit
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 bedside, playing with
her to attract her attention from her suffering, and alwayt
speaking to her in language the most consoling. However,
when Conrad learned the conduct of his penitent, he removed
tho leper from her, lest she should catch the disorder, and for
ibis ezcen of zeal hnpoeed on her a penance so severe that ht

l; I''

f t

X ' f '

^ A -*

* >4

^ 4 ^

•J

i ,

I '

' 2

LIFE OP ST. ■LIIABBTB,

I- -l

afterwards thought himself boood to repent of it to the Pope.

But Elizabeth, whose indefatigable ardoar nothing could
discourage, replaced her patient by a little child afflioted
with a complaint almost as revolting as the leprosy — and tliii
cliild she treated with a care and skill with which Charity
alone, that supreme science, could inspire her. She kept tbig
patient with her until her death.

Still the lepers were the objects of her predilection, we
might abnost say of her enry, 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
Doverty-^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 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, daring
which th« Father Provincial who raised her from the ground
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
•aint.

In these times of universal faith, Religion was the absolute
sovereign of society, and consequently was enabled to meet
efary e^ il with some remedy, .and from extreme human mi*
lery she cultivated all the noble feelings of piety and charity

OV BUVOART*

7»9

1688 80 com*

Id ChrUtian soalfl. Nv jeing able to resist the depIorabU
material sofferings which were sure to result firom the fearful
malady, she was, at least, omnipotent in destroying the moral
rei>robatkon, which in later times would be sure to attach
itself to the unhappy Tictims of this disorder — so the Church,
in a manner, consecrated them, as the representatiTes of the
burthen of human sorrow, ftom which Jesus Christ had
rescued mankind, and which this holy Mother taught
her children to revere in the persons of their thus aflBicted
brethren.

Leprosy, then, was at this time a something sacred in the
Bight of the Church and the people — ^it was a gift from Ood,
a special distinction, even as it were, a mark of Divine atten-
tion. The band of God, the ever just and merciful Father,
bad 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 hii
affliction. Solitude, reflection and retreat with God alone
became necessary for a leper, but the love and prayers of hia
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
Lepro»orum, 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
forniture and utensils required for him were blessed, after
which every one present gave an alms, and the clergy, pre*
ceded by a Crosft-bearer, and accompanied by all the fiftithfnl,
conducted him to the solitary hut assigned to him for a dwell-
io^ place. On the roof of this house the priest laid fomt
tonsecrated earth firom a burial ground lavaig;,

tIPI or ST. SLIZABKTR,

**Bi8 mortaas mundo, vlveiu lUrnm Dvo.**
**B« thoa dead to th« world, living again to Ood.**

The priest then addi*e8sed to him a cousolatory discoarw
whereiD he depicted the joys of Paradise, and the coramuQitj
of spirit with the Gharch whose prayers would be moru oo*
eoasingly offered for him in solitude than befbre.

Then he erected a wooden cross before the door, and ap^
pended io it a little box fbr alms, after which every one wcut
away. At Easter only, the lepers were permitted to loaTe
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 la
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 ftrom the people the most
affectionate and consoling names. They called them, " Gods
own sick ones— Gk)d's dear poor — The good people.*' They
loved to remember that Jesns Christ Himself had been pre-
Hgured as a leper by the Holy Spirit, " Et nos putavmm
mmi quasi ieproaum ,*" that He was the gne^ 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 liad
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. Hartyrius, &c. &c. Besides this, also, it was from
the Pilgrimages to the Holy Land and the Crusades that 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 eidusively to the service of
lepers, one of whom was chosen its Grand Master ; and an
order of women had consecrated themselves to tlie Sam |

•V nOOART,

907

uiiject Id tiie same dty, at tbe Hospice of St. John the
iliiioner. i

Amongst the sovereigns and nobles of the earth, onr Bliza*
bctli was not the only one of royal race \yho hononreil Christ
in these soccessors of Lniams — illustrious and powerfal
princes regarded this dnty as one of the prerogatives of their
crowns. Robert, king of France, incessantly visited their
hos|>itaIs. St. Louis treated them with fraternal affection,
risited them at the Quarter Tenses, and kissed their ulcers.
Henry III. of England did the same. The Countess Sybella
of Flanders, having accompauied her husband Theodorie to the
Huly 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, sha
felt, as once did our Elizabeth, her senses revolting against so
anpleasing an occupation ; to chastise her3elf she took some
of tlie water in her mouth and swallowed it saying, " Thou
ronst learn to serve God in His poor, it is a good occupation
for thee, why then dost thoa permit thy heart to shrink f^on
It ?" When her hosband was leaving Palestine, she reqaested
his permission to remain there, in order to devote the remain-
der of her life 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 enslirined
at Bruges, and the pious people of Flanders heard, with gi^eat
veneration, how their Count had sold his wife to Christ and
His poor, and how he received as b^r price the blood of theii
Qod.

18»

* » ^

■iil '1.'-^

Liri OF IT. BLUABirn,

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 Tictim ; l«ut
after persevering to the end in her noble sacrifice, and burj-
ing her poor patient, her handa beeame as pure and white an
those of a little child, and a halo of mild light plaved around
the parts that had been most affected. St. Francis of Assis-
iura and St. Clare his noble companion, St. Odila of Alsace,
St. Judith of Poland, St. Edmund of Canterbury, and later
•till, St. Francia 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 God who was
ever present to her in the persons of the poor. But whilst
awaitiug her summons to a blissful eternity with them, no-
thing could satiate the desires of her compassionate heart,
uor soothe the kngainhing of her soul, so often suffering fron
the cottteniplatipo of tlie niieriei of her fellow oreatuei.

^;!li

Of BvvoAftr.

tuk

CHAPTER XXV.

40W m DKAI ST. SLOABRB RKTUSBD TO MTUni TO ■■• rATniai>
KINODOM, ni OKDBR THAT SHI MIOBT MOU SURILT Bim TM
KINGDOM OP BEATBN.

"Begaam raandl «t omnsm onutum aMeoll oontemiwl propter unanm Dooaial
oel Jmu ObrMli qa*m vldl, qa^a uiutI, 1b qiMin er«dldl, qacm dUcxL"— J^ohmm*
S/vrtory.

** lo Bldalo iMO mwrin.^—Job xzlx. 18.

Ik the mean time the King of Hungary, the rich and
powcrfal father of this poor nursing mother of the sick, heard
from the Hungarian pilgrims who returned from Aiz 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 injuriet
done his child, and resolved to send an ambassador to .bring
her to him. He confided this mission to Count Banfi ; thii
noble set out for Thuriogia, and soon arrived at Wartbourg.
He there found the Landgrave Henry, and demanded from
him the reason of the extraordinary position wherein the
Dachess was placed. The Prince thus replied to him : " My
EJster has become quite mad, every one knows it, you will
Bee 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 possts-

- i r

■'m^M

<4 iiiifi

i .;«

SCO

LirS or ST. BLICAUBTHT,

!
1

' H

i':

' i

•ion of all she could desire. The Count was astonished, and
tet out for Marburg. When he arrived there he aakitl tlie
inu-kecpcr with whom he stopped, what he thought of tho
Lndj named Elizabeth who had coioe irom Hungary to tliis
country ; why lived she thus in misery ; why she quitted
ihe prhioes of her late hnsband's fhmily ; and whctlicr there
was any charge against hei honour. "She is a most pious
lady and riglit virtuous," replied the inn-keeper, " she is as
rich as she can wish to be, for this city and its neighbouHuKK],
which is extensive, is her sole pro])erty ; and if she wislicd,
she could have chosen from amongst many princes a s[)ouse.
But in her great humility she lives thus in misery, she would
not dwell in the city, but riemains near the hospital which she
built, for she despises all this world's wealth. God conferred
on as 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 inn4cceper went in first and said : " Madnm.
here is one of yonr friends seeking you, and who I think
wishes to speak to you.'' The Ambassador having entered the
hot, and seeing the daughter of his Boyal 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 countrj 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^ persua-
sions. " For what do yoa take me ?" aaid she to him, " 1
am but a poor sinner who ae?er obeyed the law of Qod as I

OF ■VirOA»T.

901

on^'lit to have done.** *'And who has reduced you to thi*
itato of misery?" asked the Count **No one/' replied she,
'-|)iit the infinitely rich Son of my Heavenly Fatiicr, who hnt
kitigiit me by his example to despise riches and to love poT*
eily beyond all the kingdoms of this world." And then sh«
tulii him her histoiy since her widowhood, and her inten-
tions for hef fatnre life. She assured him that sbd had M
reason to complain of any one, that she wanted not for any-
tiling, 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 Jesoa Christ.**

Still the Ambassador entreated of her not to afflidt her
royal father by leading a life so unworthy of her rank, aud
not to grieve him b} refushig 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 conterap-
til)le 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
Borvice of the King of Heaven. All that J ask of him is to
pray, and to have prayers offered for me, and I will eease-
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 usei
ill tUt office of holy women :

" The kingdom of this World and all the vanities of the
ai;e have I despised for the love of my Lord Jesus Christ,
Him whom I have seen, whom I have loved, in whom I haT«
Mlicved, and whom I have preferred.''

&IfX

CHAPTER XXn.

DBAB IT. BLBABITH DI8TRIBUTID ALL
AMOMOST TBI POOB.

PBOPERTI

omneni rabttantfaun donrat tjivm pn
d«ploi«t MIB.*'— CbfiMo. TlH. T.

[1!

M w H w n , qoMl alU

** Galore eharitatli
Caleflteli paaperas
Ja.Tt* prunw nndftotli
LvtMitar Immcmorcs.'*

AfUhtm qf St. BtUaUlh^ In tKe aneifm.
Breviary of tht Dominieant.

HowBviR convinced the Landgrave Ucnry might have
been of the folly of his sister-in-law, he did not think himself
the less obliged to fol&l 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 iufinence of Conrad of Mar*
barg, which was as gpreat over him as it had been over iiis
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 Wartbonrg 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 whfcli 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.

Regardless of the order of Master Conrad, and perhaps
unknown to him, the 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 considcrabh

OF nUNOART.

mm, for those timed, of two thoa^and ratrkf. "She endeo-
Toiircd,'' says one of her pious historians, " to n.^e the changefal
riches of this world in sach a manner, as woold tend to porchase
for Iter the changeless happiness of eternal life.'' She sold al!
the jewels that remained in her possession, and all the pre-
leiitfl that had been sent her by her relatives in Hungary ;
Amongst them, yases of gold and silver, stuffs embroidered b
^1(1 and some ornaments set with gems of the highest value.
All the money that she received for these, as well as what she
derived firom 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 receircd the five hundred marks from Duke Henry, she
resolTed 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
loof^ues around Marburg, that all the poor were to assemble
on a certain day in a plain near Wehrda, that village wherein
site had passed the first days of her voluntary poverty.

At the appointed time 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 fh€ 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-
inp: the alms equally amongst the poor, who were too frequently
nidc and impatient, and care was taken that none could apply
Uviee, thus to deprive some other of his destined portion.
Elizabeth ordered that any one who should transgress thif
rule by leaving a place, should have hii or h«r hair cut off
immediately.

k \ 4i;

^ 1^

LIFB Of ST. ILIIABITH,

ii'

i\\'

(flrii

A yonng girl uuned Rodegonda, remarkable for tht
bMotj of her bair, bafing been diieovered leaving; h^r
place, waA deprifed of the fair ringlets, which, accontmi;
to the cuntom of the maidene of Marburg, slie wore floc4 ng
down over her shouldert. Radi'goiida began to weep nn i • i?
out loudly. She wae brooght before th<^DachcM, who ut tint
cotigrattilatod her on being, froiu the Iom of her tresMt s, no
longer able to share in profane rejoicings ; and then with tlie
profonnd instinct of holy souls, Elizabeth asked her if ever
she had entertained the project of leading a bettor l|fc. I{a*
degondii replied : '' A long time ago I would have consccrutrd
myself to the Lord by assuming the religions habit, if it \V( ;e
not too great an effort to sacrifice the beauty of my hnir.'
At these words Elizabeth cried out joyfully : " I am ha)>|)icr
then that they have cnt away thy curls, than if I heurd that
n^y son was elected Emperor of the Romans.'* She then cooic
with her this young girl, who, profiting of the warning in-
voluntarily received that day, consecrated herself to tlie
vervico of God and of the poor in the hospital founded by the
Duchess. ' f ' *

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 ruiiii
girded round with a cloth, as was our Lord when he minis-
tered to his disciples. She wandered amongst the vast
ikisemblage, glorying in and enjoying the happiness of which
she wac the cause— her face serene and tranqdil, gladness in
her heart, gentle and affectionate words upon her !i)M, parti-
cularly when addressing the strangers whoc >t' . lu . lor tho
first timO) adding a sweet gaiety to her compassion, a ccles-
iit\ simplicity to her boundless generosity, finding at every
fltep PcW vcmfort for new sorrows. This daughter of a king
found ixr^'^lf <^t lenf;th in the midst of a court that well
pleased hor, Imly ^n>im of that day by her mercy ; there wai

OF nVWOAIIT.

fho in the mtditt of her army of poor, m m enthroned lore*
rii^^n, (1 notwithatanding the misernble conttnne which ibt
lind adopted, to the admiring evcf it thoHo v: hose griefs iht
B.«Miagefl, iihe appeared as brilliant o < *^t son, and clad !■
garments whiter than the snow.

The fire hundred marlKS distributed, night began *m fall, 4
ind the moon rose in unclonded splendour, th'> poor people
let out. to regain their distant homes; bnt a ^roat number
W'Tf 'Oo ['o' Me to Imj able to depart so soon, and these were
p. paring U> pass the night in some of the buildings adjacent
to (lu iospital. Elizabeth at her return perceived thorn, niul
aiwiiys infiuenced by her tender compassion, she said ^o her
HttLii'lajits, "Ah, here are some poor crentares, let us give
tficm something/' Upon wliich she handed to each one six-
pence of Cologne, and gave to the little children amoi ^st
them as much as to the grown people.

Then she sent for a great quantity of bread and distribnt<'d
it to them, after which she said, " I wish that these poor
ones should enjoy an entire feast, give them some (ire. '
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 as
possible,** and iiikraediutely she went forth to witness their
gl.-td'-.ess.

Well, oh, noble and holy soul, did you study the wonder-
ful power of contributing to the happiness of others I So se-
vere and pitiless to yourself, you were early initiated into the
plenitude of tliis k-ait-touching mystery 1

Tlie terrestrial bliss that you completely renounced in your
uwu life, yiHu nought with generous perseverance to bestow
D|M)n your poor brcthreu I

f06

LIFE or ST. ILIZABKTH,

How we rejoice in thinking that in Heaven where vod
receive the eternal reward of all fervent charity, yon arc still
animated by the pions soUcitado that replenished yonr heart
when on earth ! and how consoling it is to ns to believe tliut
the poor souls who, in their sadness and poverty, call upon
yoo from this world of woe, are not unheeded by this inex-
haustible pity, which has but acquired redoabled energy aod
ardoui from your blessed immortslity I

OV HUHOABT.

307

' I

CHAPTER XXVn.

■OW THB DBAB ST. ELIZABETH LEARNED FROM MASTEB OOBRAD, Wm
m ALL THIM08 TO DESTROY SELF-WILL.

* MeMor «st ob«dl«ntts qaam rletlins.**— 1 lUff. zt. Hl

•• Wm te them ttant dtaddn to hnmble theniMlves wtninglj with the liUIeefalMrH^
for the low gate <^ the heevenly kiofdom will sot soffer them to enter thither."-*
Im.o/Ckri$t,B,m. 0.0^

Wb may have thought that nothing now hindered our
Elizabeth from arriving at the end she had so conrageonsly
proposed to herself, the exclosive loye of God and of her
brethren in God, and the entire contempt of this world and
all that it contains. Tet m this wonderfal path of Christian
perfection she had still many obstacles to snrmonnt, many
victories, and these the most difficalt of all to gain.

It was not sufficient for her to have conquered the love of
tills earth and all its fleeting pleasnres, she had still to com-
bat against that which it is the greatest task of all to vaa-
quish, her own will.

It became necessary that however pare 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 com laden with its grains, awaiting the coming of the
Heavenly gleaner to gather it for eternity.

The common Father of the faiti 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 »

808

tIFB or ST. BLIEABETH,

I |i^

way, repugnant enough, sur( ly, to these wise times, and still
more so to the sensuality and tepidity of our languid souls
80 utterly unaccustomed to all idtas of lively and priK tiral
faith, but which provoked no murmurs, nor even exiita'
Burpriso, in those ages of heartfelt simplicity, of absolute
abandonment, at least in intention, to all that could unite the
«oul 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 judse
harshly of the character of such a man, to associate ourstlves
in the entire submission of this noble princess, who in all
things sought to bend her bead 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 havinjj then resolved to combat and tc
erailicate from the soul of Elizabeth the onlv source of hii-

•I

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, npon 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 of
copper, and these she gave as pence, though they were equal
in value to a shilling of the country. The poor people, accus*
iomed to her former maniflcence, soon began to complain of

OT BCMeAlir.

801

till parsimony of her giflR, but she said to them, " I am for*
hit Men to give you more than a penny at one time, but that
do s not hinder mc from giviug one eacii time you come/'
T!i ' mendicants did not fail to profit of this suggestion ; and
after having received the first doitation, they would walk
QMund the hospital and then return for another. This con-
dint 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
Mows, but she endured this punishment with joy, for during
n 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,
hilt he permitted her to distribute bread. Soon, however, he
discovered that she was too prodigal of this species of relief,
mid he forbade her to give loaves, but allowed her to share
thcra in slices. Still later, he made her cease all alms-giving,
niid left her no means of exercising her ardent charity, but io
tdidiiig the sick and infirm ; and even here he took the pre-
riintion of forhiddina: her all inteivourse with those most dear
to her — the lepers — and when her compassion forced her to
transgress this injunction, he hesitated not to strike her 8©-
vcnly. 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
n;id the wants of the unhappy. Nevertheless she felt that her
now duty had assumed the place of all the others ; she under*
Ftood that the entire self-denial of which she had made a vow
rofiuired that she should give up everything which afforded
hiT enjoyment or human consolation ; and certainly there was
mnoh of both for her in the practice of alms-giving. She
knew how to make the sacrifice, she learned to obey withoat

810

LIFB OF «T. ILISABBTSi

1 :

i ;

a marmnr, and soon she became well skilled in tho si prcma
icience which is to a Christian the achievement of ?ictory.

No fatigne, no trouble seemed too great for her whon it
uicame 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 loiiu' 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 tlioniy
to her, that she might go before the eternal judge adorned
with more merit.

A French writer says : " The holy man did all he could to
conquer her will, to fix all her love upon Qod, 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 dwdt
near Marburg, Conrad sent her word to come back iinnudi
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, not
for his own sake, but as God's representative towards hr
She used to say to her maidens, " If I so much fear a mor-
tal man, how far more shall I tremble before God wlio ii
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 greati>oss as she wished to be herself. " I have
chosen," she remarked, " the life of the poorest order becaus(»
it is the most despised, and had there been one still lower I

OF HUNOART.

voiild have selected it. I coald bare in»de a tow of obe*
dience to a Bishop or to a wealthy Abbot, but I preferred
Master Conrad because be was nothing, he is but a poor
nic iiilieant, and tlius I hare no resource in this life.''

And Master Conrad pitilessly used the power with which
site had invested him. He having been at the convent of
AKlenburg where her daughter Gertrude was, he had an idea
of making Idllizabeth enter it, and he sent for her to Marburg
to come and deliberate with him on the subject. She obeyed
his orders. The nuns having heard of her arrival, asked
Muster 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 namber of blows with a
long stick which he found there. During the execution of
this sentence Conrad chaunted the Miserere^ and the Dochest
sabmitted with supernatural patience to this seiera pnnisli-
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 ihe inundation
piisses 07er without breaking it, and when the waters decline
it rises in its strength and enjoys a new life. If we, too,
fioroetimes bend towards the earth in all humility, we caQ
arise with new-found joy and confidence.

On another occasion, Conrad preached on the Passion,
that Elizabeth might gaic the indulgence granted by tht

319

LIFS or ST. ILIZABITH,

Pope to all who would assist at his sermons, as CotnmIs«;ary>
A]30stolic. 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 slio liad
been doing, that caused her absence; and, without givin.;
her time to reply, he struck her rudely, saying, "Tuke that,
to remind you to come the next time I send for you." The
bumble and patient princess smiled, and was about to e\( ine
herself, when he struck her so severely as to cause blood to
6ow. She raised her eyes to heaven, and kept them fixed
thereon for some time ; then she said, " Lord, I thank tlice
for having chosen me for this.*' Her women came to co.i-
sole her, and, seeing her garments blood-stiUned, they ask* d
her how she had been able to endure so many blows. She
replied, " For having endured them patiently, God perniittod
me to see Christ in the midst of his angels ; for the Master's
Mows 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 ; bat at no time do they merit the
disdain or contempt of the faithful, for they have ever offerfd
to all souls immortal victories of chanty, humility, and ^If-
denial to gain, and the power of achieving a pure and holy
glory.

: Whilst the -SupTeme Judge weighed in his eternally just
balance this severity of his minister and this invincible pa-
tience of bis humble spouse, profane men found in these rel.i-
tions food 'or their malignity, and prepared for Elizabeth a
new sacrifice, to join to all those previously offered to her Di-
vine Master.

After they had cried her down ae wasteful rnd foolisl^

or UUNOAKT.

Slf

ftn<l proolaimcd everywhere tiiat she had lost her senses, they
tnovti to aspc'i*8e her fair fame by infamous auspicions and
ohscure hints on the n:Uure of her connection with Master
Conrad. They said that this monk had seduced the widow
ol Duke Louis, and carried her away to Marburg, there to
enjoy her property and riches. The youtli of tlie Duchess,
who was then but about the age of twenty-two years, gave
a siiadow of a pretext for these calumnies. They nppetured
<iutHciently serious to the Lord Rodoiph de Varila, tc
in<luce him to go and visit her. This true and prudent
icniglit went then to Marburg, and, approaching the Duch-
ess with great respect, said to her, " Will you permit me,
iiiHclam, to speak to you freely without any reserve!**
Kliznbeih replied humbly that she was most willing t4
listen. "I beg, then,** said he, **of my dear lady to watch
over her renown, for her familiarity with Master Conrad ht8
given rise to false notions and unjust suspicions in the minds
of the vulgar and ignoble herd.'' Elizabeth raised her eyes
10 heaven, and with an unruffled countenance she replied —
" Blessed in all thitigs be our most dear and merciful Lord
Jesus Christ, my only Friend, who deigns to receive from
me this little offering. For his iove I devoted myself to his
serviet; ; 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
thera, all the consolations of life ; I became poorest of the
jtoor. One only treasure did I retain, — my womanly honour
and reputation : but now, from what I learn, it seems that Ho
requires that also ; as He accepts, as a special sacrifice, my
tafr fame, I must strive to endure for His sake this ignominy.
I consent to be looked upon as a dishonoured woman ; bok
oh, my dear Lord, remember my poor children ; they art
innocent ; deign to preserve them from any shame that mighl
fall upon them on my account."
14

i? i

tl4

LIFM OF ST. ILIIABlTIf

Wishing to assure her old friend, and to testify her ?Tiitv
tnde for bis devotion, she added, " For your part, my dear
lord, have no snspicion of me ; see my wounded bIiouM' is"
— and she bared them, to show the marks of the last I)lnw4
she had receired—" behold,'' said she, "the love this holy
priest entertains for me 1 or, rather, see how he animates me
to the love of God !" " Admirable union," says her histo-
rian, " of humility, patience, and vious prudence, rhich, while
rendering glory to Qod, while enduring unmerited ignoiniity,
knew also how to banish thoughts of evil from the miud uf
her neighbour !"

And it was Kot alone by those external and corporal |)ini-
ishments that Conrad exercised the unlimited power where-
with she had intrusted him ; he strove still more to coi)(}iK'r
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 bad retained but one,
and that was, the eufitom 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, insepanihie
and faithful companions as they were, had associated them-
selves in all the voluntary privations of her religious life— iu
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 yvike
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 con so
Jation. No 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 narrativd

OW UUMQART.

of her life. Conrad resolred to reud asmider thii chain of
tr.ie frieDdsliip.

One by one, he sent away the retainers of her former
e^tal>lLshment, and the departare of each caused her inex*
pri ssible grief. Then he came to tier two friends. It was
tirst the fate of Ysentrode, whom Elizabeth loved most
tiearly, and from whom she never concealed a thought,
either before or since her retreat from the world. This faith-
ful friend "\ , "She was obliged to see me driven fh>m
her — even lae, Ysent/ude, whom she loved beyond all
others ; and when parting from me, her heart was almost
riven with anguish, and the tears were streaming fron hei
eyes." And afterwards, Guta, 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 Ood
preserved this grief until her death. Any true soul can com-
prehend this easily, for there is not in this world a greater
tiorrow than when two faithful hearts are separated. 0, dear
St. Elizabeth ! I recall this parting to thy memory, and, by
tlic 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 firom my
God!"

The victim then, before the God to whom she had immo*
la ted herself, was not permitted even the consolation of
entire solitude. Conrad replaced these cherished companions
01 her loneliness by two Women of a very different stamp.
One, named Elizabeth, was chosen from amongst the com
Oion people, tolerably pious, but excessively vulgar and
mdo — and, withal, so ugly, that even to mention her w«»

819

LIFE or IT. ILIZABKTR,

!■ ■!

RoSicient to frighten children. The other was a wiilow, oil,
and (leaf, of a bittcr-spcaking and revengeful charai'ttr, alw nys
dij^conteiited and wrathful.

Elizabeth resigned herself to this annoying change in In r
liousehoUl with perfect docility. She strove to advance in
humility by her intercourse with the rude peasant, uml tu
learu patience by submitting to the invectives of the evi r
angry old woman. These two servants gave her every il;.y
many trials, and treated her very badly.

Far from opposing her when, throngh a spirit of pcnaiu e,
she was anxious to share in their labours and domestic car* s,
they on the contrary permitted her k) do the most fiti}.niiiig
work, to sweep the house, Ac. ; and when watching by tho
kitchen fire, the princess would be sometimes so ab.<:orl)0(l 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 8ou|i.
"Yet during her life the royal lady hud never learned to
eook," 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 in t
heart, and gave alms, forgetting the command she found it
BO difficult to submit to, and elicited for her from her di-
rector severe reproof. But nothing could render her ui\-
faithful for an instant, nor even excite an involuntary movt^
raent of impatience to the entire submission she had vowed
to him wiio 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 Guta, came to visit her, she scarcely
dared to salute them, or to offer them any refreshment,
outil she had received permission from Master Com ad.

Yet still another trial was in store for this soul, lo loving,
jpet withal so determined to crush its own tender feelings ,

07 BCKOART.

and this was to be a new sonrcc of triumph. We Iiotc ieen
how she w»i3 separated from her children, whom «he cher
IslieU with a devotion so intense, that her love of Ood alone
could surpass it ; yet this separation had neither been com-
plete nor absolute — the maternal heart could not be stilted,
and if she had not always one or other of her children with
her, which the expression of some of her bioip*aphers 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,
— Ihat no creature should partake of what she had devoted to
God. Slie 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 n6t — she sent away
for ever from her these last and most fervently cherished of
all the sources of her earthly happines?.

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 au age of faith
could invest the offspring of a saint. /

Scarcely had a few years flown by, when, at the great"
\ssembly held by King Louis IX. of France, was seen a
young German prince, about eighteen years old He served
with the Gcant de Saint Pol and the Count de Boulogne at

818

Liri Of ST. ILIIABBTB

Uie table of the Qoeen — cTen of the Qaeen of France, wlio
during the middle ages was to all true knighti the ^apr(rn«
type of feminine beaatj and excellence. Blanche of CnHtille
then filled this proud position. The attendants whispered one
another that this youth was the son of St. Elizabeth of Tliur-
ingia, and that Queen Blanche often embraced him with devo-
tion, seeking on his fair forehead the traces of the fund i(iss<s
blR noble mother had impressed there. It was thus that ihc
mother of a saint did homage to the son of a saint ; it wtui
in these touching and pious kisses that were associated in
history and in the memory of men, as they were incessautlj
united before Ood, the tender, fervent, and pure souls ot
Bftiut Loiiif ti Vnaoe and Si. BUiabeUi of Hungary.

Lkl,, I

Of iDiroAir.

819

CHAPTER XXyilL

low TBI LORD BXIIIC1SBD BU POW«R AND Bit MBBOT AT TBI
IllTBRCBSSIOM Of TBB DBAK SAINT BLIZABRB, AMD Of TOB
MABTBLLOUS BmOAOT Of BKB PBATBRS.

•• Fadt mlhl aii«M ^ul potaM Mt**— A tMk4 L 4f .

*T*liuitetMn tloMntlwD m teotot, ct d>pwwrtlooiin Mnun WMdH.**

J*$,9Mhf. n,

The time was spproftching when Elizabeth shoald be sum
moiled to receive from her Heavenly Father, the eternal recom
|)en8e of the trials of her short life ; bat before calling her to
sliare in His glory, it pleased the Almighty to sarronnd 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 Arom His own, and to commit to
this weak woman, who had so nobly vanqnished the failings of
our fallen natore, 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 affeo-
tionate sympathy, by her boundless generosity, by her aii>
wearied devotion alone, that we shall see her occupied in
solacing the woes of the unhappy, and in bearing with thea
their burthens ; the Divine Charity to which nothing is ini*
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 tto
Bufferings which before she could but strive to heal.

Thenceforth when devotion or charity summoned her from
her miserable dwelling, it was to exercise, no^ only tht

'J'

If^

320

LIFE OF BT. BLIZABETR,

M 1

!:'

promptin<58 of her own kindliness, but also the miramlom
power whifth the Lord is often pleased to confer on His chosen
Fouls ; and the new blessings which she obtained for her poor
ones, preserved by their memories even in the least details,
with the most aflFecting particularity, afford to us the lutosl
and most brilliant testimony of her sanctity.

No day passed that she did not go twice to visit her ho8
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 d. poor,
deaf and dumb child, whose limbs were all distorted l)y 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 caress
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
ine whence thou camest."

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
beard nor spoken before, that from his birth he had been aa
Ibe found him, feeble and deformed in all his body. " But

OF ilUNOAKT.

BOW ," g^d he, extending YAb limbs one nfter the other, " be-
hoiil God has given me motion, and speech, and hearing, and
I Shy words that I never learned from any one." Tlien he
w(pt and thanked God. " I knew not God.'' he continued,
"for all my senses were dead, I knew not what man iias.
Imt now I feel that I am no longer like a beast. I can speak
of God. Blessed bo the words of yonr 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
Dpwly awakened by Omnipotent power to a knowledge of God
and of itself, Elizabeth knew what it had pleased the Almighty
to f»errait her to work, but alarmed and troubled by this won-
dt rful ministry, she fell upon her knees and mingled her tears
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, speak not of me to any one. Say that God's mercy
RS-sisted 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
tlic 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
wore granted to me to reply." Whereupon the mother ran in
the direction that Elizabeth had taken, and seeing her passing
oil 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 saffe^

tug came to Invoke her assistance. Her compassion efei

14»

.a,.

LIFE or 8T. BLIZABETR,

{.'i

i ,

'f I :■

1 ^ ■

1 !

i4i^ 'dii

prevented her from refusing to accede to their request!^, bat
never did the magiiitade of the wonders which the Aiiuii/liti
permitted her to work, indace her for a moment to go astnij
from the profound and fervent humility which rendenil her
so agreeable to Him. Pne day a sick man asked her to liciil
him in the name of the beloved Apostle St. John, for wliom
the felt a special devotion ; after she prayed for him he foil
cured, and lie threw himself before her to thank her ;• but sho,
kneeling down, blessed Qod, 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 tliose
of St. John."

Another day, a poor creature whose hands and feet were
paralysed, cried out, " Oh woman, bright as the sun amon^rst
thy sex, I come from Reynhartsbrunn where thy !«nsl)and
reposes — by thy love for his soul come and heal me." On
hearing the name of her husband she remembered their lioly
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 cared, and for this she
fervently thanked the Lord. Sometime after, as she wai
walking' \o the Convent of Aldenburg, a poor man called
after her, saying, " Behold for twelve years I have been the
prey of a wicked f pirit — let me but touch the hem of thy
garment, and he nrust leave me.** She rettirned 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 — whieh was the
hour she preferred, as the people were generally at dinner, and
•he could then indnlge her devotion uninterruptedly — she saw
* blind man walking alone around the church ; hi^ eyelldi

OF HUNOA^T.

821

iN«c opbD, but the eyeballs were withered and the sight
bnil departed from them. She went and asked him why b«
Uh.O' thu« wandering alone about the church. He replied,*']
would wish to go to the dear lady who comforts tlie poor, i
the hope that ihe would give me some assistance for Ood^
lake ; bat first I oame to say a prayer in tliis church, and I
am now going round it to feel how long and how wide it is,
8s my ^yes cannot see it." *'And wouldst thou like to behold
the church f* asked the compassionate Elizabeth. " If it waa
God's will,^ replied the blind man, " I would indeed be glad
to look upon it, bat as I was born* blind I have never seen
the sunlight, so I have been GikIs prisoner.** Then he began
to tell her of all his misery '* I woald have been glad to
labour like other men,'' said hf , " J^at I am useless to myself
and to every one else ; the honnn, 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 thoa mightest have fallen into excesses and com-
mitted many more sins than thoa hast done." " No, no,"
replied the blind man, " I would have worked hard and been
free from the sad thoaghts that possess me to-day." Elizabeth,
qnite moved with compassion, then said to him, " Pray that
God may give thee light and I will pray with thee." Then
vvns the man aware that it was the holy Duchess Elizabeth
wlio spoke to him, and prostrating himself before her, he
cried oat, " Oh noble and merciful lady, have pity on me P
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 aboat him, and went towardf EUnbttk

LIFE or ST. ILIZABETB,

Mr^

» i

in 4

M!'

** Madam,** said he to her, " may God be for tfrwi* blissse.!; \
ace well and clearly — your words are rerified.'^

But the pious princess, who always united the pnid* nt
care of a Christian mother to her charity, said to him, " Now
that sight is given to thee, remember that thou art to servo
Qod and to avoid sin — ^labour, and be an honest man, humlile
and loyal in all things.''

The prayers of this servant of the Lord, so powerful in
amnaging the sufferings of the body, were not the le&s effi-
cacious in promoting the salvation of sools.

Madam Gertrude de Leinbacb, the wife of a noble knight
in the neighbourhood, came one day to visit ^the Dudtess,
and brought with her her son, named Berthold, a yoiitli of
abont twelve or fourteen years Old, who was magnificently
clad, and who appeared to take great pride and pleasure in
tiie elegance of his attire. Elizabeth, after conversing a
icng time with his mother, turned and said to him, *' ^[y
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 wjlt
tuon not think rather of serving thy Creator ? Tell me, dear
one, dost thou think that thy Saviour and mine wore suet
clothes when he came in all humility to shed his blood for us V
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 theeT asked the Duchess
" Yes I do, indeed," said Bsrtheld. " Then dispose thysell
to recei>'e the grace thoa seekest," said Elixabeth — " I will
cheerfully pray for thee ; let us go together to the Chnnri,
•nd both unite in supplication." He followed her, and,
when arrived, he prostrated himself before the Altw, ai did
also his motht^r, at some distance from the place in /hicb
Filizabeth knelt. After their prayers bad lasted a i j-tain
liiae, the youth cried oatr— " Oh, dear lady, cease, 1 pra|

Of BUMeARr*

tbec !" Still Elizabeth heeded not, bat continofld most fer»
reiitly. Again Berthold cried oat more loadlj* "Ceaee^
BiadaiCf 1 con endcro it no longer ; mjr body is ail iDflanicd.**
And indeed he seeined all burning — a vapo&r exhaled froui
bis body ; his mother and two of tlie attendants ran towards
biin, and found hia garraeuts saturated with perspiration, and
his sliin so hot that they coaid scarcely touch him. EIiz»>
betli was still praying, until the boy cried out in desperation,
" III the name of the Lord, I ooi\jure thee to pray no more ;
for I am consumed by an interior fire, and my heart is ready
to break.*' Then she discontinued, and Berthold gradually
regained his former state — with this diflbrcnce, however,
(hat his heart never lost the flame of Dirine Love which the
prayers of Elizabeth had caused to be enkindled in it, and^
800U after, ne entered the Order of Saint Francis.

Such examples soon brought to Elizabeth a crowd of 8uf«
fcring sonls, seeking her powerful intercessraa. She acceded
witli pious hamillty to thdr requests, and many of them,
enlightened ond tranquillized by her {nraydrs, like the young
Berthold, embraced the religions life. This sweet and bene*
Tolent influence extended eten beyond this world. Thitf
efiicacions assistance was sought by some departed soal^
the had not yet expiated all their faults.

Otie night, she saw, in a dream, her mother, Qoeen Oer«
trade, who had b^en cruelly assassinated many years before }
Biie appeared to kneel, tind to say, "My dear ehild, be*
loved of God, wilt thou pray fbr me, for I baVe still tat
expiate SOme of the transg^essiohs I committed dbring Itfe^
Be mindful of the pains I endured when I broBgkt thee ilitd
the world, alid have piiy on my present snilerings. Beg of
Qod to shorten the time of my pani^meat, and to loo!»
rather upon the ignominious death wUcb I stiffered, though
iunocent, than apoo my sins. TMs tb«a eaast do if thoa
rat, for f taoQ art fall 6f graoe io Ilis eyes.'' Elikabeth awok#

tin o* (*. KLiXABinii,

.^ >r

■j.|: i

{]

weeping. She arose from her bed, and knelt down. Afl<>r
prayin<^ for some time for the repose of her mother's mn],
the 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 1 Thy prayer has delivered ine •
to-morrow I shall enter into eternal glory. But ever pray
for all thou lovest, for Qod will comfort those who invoke
thee 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 Oiiiirch
of the Friar Minors, whither she was a^^customed 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 Wv^nt 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 shpes 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
hour, thus abandoning her child. Meanwbile, Elizabeth,
whose thoughts were with the poor by day and by night, said

OF BUKOABT.

S27

to >nc of her maidens, jast aa they were entering the charch
for matins, " I have some money in my pnrse ; go thou with
it to that poor woman ; it may be of som^ ase to her and her
bal)c.^ But tliti girl reiarned, annonncing that the woman
was gone, and had left her infant. " Rnn and bring the little
9nc to me,'' said the good Elizabeth, " that it may not be
ne«?leeted." Full though her heart was of mercy, yet well
dia sh<^ know what were the rights of justice ; so she sent for
tiie judge of the city, and ordered him to send out soldiers to
the different roads leading from the town, to seek out tUe
guilty mother. They returned without success ; then Eliza>
bcth went to pray, and one of her maidens, who dreaded the
wrath of Conrad when he should have heard l^^e story, told
her mistress to pray that the ungrateful woman should be
discovered. Elizabeth replied thus to this suggestion : — " I
Know 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 l)ut that this was the effect of
the prayers of the Duchess. The attendants took from the
anp^rateful 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
regained 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
kind of diffidence in God's mercy.

She occasionally experienced moments of discouragement
and interior darkness, such as are sometimes felt by sobls the

i. -',V 'it

828

LIPS Pf «T. lELIHABITR,

•M ' ^'

'it P

most adrnnccd in the ways loading to heaven, when thry heiKjl
under the burthen of this mortal life ; an<| then her liiartj
always inflamed with loFe, would doubt if glie could fmd \A
Qod a love proportionate to that she had centred opoQ
]Iim.

Her former confiessor, Father Rodinger of Wurtzhinj;,
canib to visit her, aud, accom{)anied by three of her mai(Unf>,
Bilk went to walk with him on the banks of the Lahn ; in her i
conversatiQn with this old friend, of whom she was undoubt
tiqly less afraid than of Conrad, she said to him—" Reverend
Father, there is one thing that torments me more than anj
ether ; and that is, that I fear my Creator has but little
atteetion for me. Not but that He is infinitely good aud
always pnidigal of his love, but ou iiccoant of my muoy
faults, that keep me far away, whilst my heart is inflamed
with love for 5im." " 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 F would wish every-
where and always to be united ?" The Religious remarked
that these were the marks of an e}ect soul, aod not of an
Bfbandoned one, and the sure means of acqoiring an increase
of Divine love ; then he pointed her attention to a tree
growing on the opposite bank of the river, and said tliat
God would more surely permit that tree to com^ by itself
across the river^ than that she should fipr i^ moment think
that His love did not infinitely surpass thnt Jf 9^J of Hia
creatures for him.

No sooner had he spoken these words, than the wonde^
stricken group saw the tree crossing the riv^ and ipiplanting
itself on the shore where they were walking. At this miracu*
loqs testimpnj of Pivine love, Elizabeth recpfnlpe^ th9 power

OF HUNG ART.

ind eternal truth of Him who said to his disdpf^S, '* If toil
bad faith like to a grain of mostard-seed, you miii^ht any t6
this mulberry tree, Be thou rooteo up, and be thon tram*
planted into the sea : and it woniu obey you.''- -Saint Tiukft,
XYii. 6 And she knelt at the feet of Father Rodingcr, to
ronfi'Si the sin of difitrnst in God's mercy, md to obtain Mi
pardon.

To give to her prayers the wonderful power iAikh we haT6
Kon in their effects, Elizabeth bad do other means than the
perpetual exercise of this gpreat faculty; and notwithstanding
the number and fatiguing nature of the works of mercy in
which sha was continually engaged, and which, one wouldf
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 lictire and contemn
piative lives.

After having, lik6 Martha, pi*ovided 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 forgiet this worW in the recollection of his graces and
mercies. " Before God, I declare that I have rarely seen a
more contemplative woman*," ^rote her severe confessor tol
the Pope. She often remained fbir hours at prayer, with her
heart, her eyes^ her hands, lifted to h^nVeini. It waii also het
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 repOtte. As she
eometimes did not fSeel sufficiently a1oti& or nnlobs^rved in the
ch«rche& of Marburg, she loved to pray ih tlie fields, nndef
heaven's canopy, surrounded by that nature which in all itt
beauts reminded her of the greatness and cli^Uiency of fhef
Creator. Tradition informs us, that, when praying thus \tt
the open air, when, it rained, she alone was not wet. He^
favourite refuge was near a clear fountain, in a wood, at thr

8S0

Liri or ST. FLIIARKTR,

ii'

foot of a rajfgcd bill, at a little dlKtanrc from Sclirrp> k. two
IcagaoR from Marburpf. Thi; road to it was 8tr« p an^
dangerous; she had a paved pathway ma'le there, and < n < tt<l
near the spring a little chapel. Soon thin solitary spot n^
oeived the name of Eltzaheth's Fountain, which it pn s* rvi<)
to this day. The worst weather could not hinder her frf)ni
▼isiting this beloved retreat. She always prayed wViNt
walking ; hnt coming hither from Marburg, she used to
recite bflt one Pater, so mingled was her prayer with re-
flection and contemplation. Elizabeth always assisted witli
exemplary devotion and exactitude at all the Divine Officps
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, nnd
continually lighted tapers and burned incense before their
alirincs. After her special friend, St. John the Evanj?elist,
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 daugliter,
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
pore one which faith assigns them. Thus, she was one day
visiting a monastery, and about twenty-four of the monies
a/Kembled to show her, with a certain degree of complaisance,
tome richly-gilt carvings that adorned their church. She said
to them— *' Indeed it would have been better to keep \he
npQQgjr that these cost you for your food and clothing, for the
subjects here represented should be engraven )n your hearts."
6he was not less severe to herself, for as a p irson was speak-
log to her of the beauty of a picture, and striving to induce

Of 111* 50 ART.

831

lor to parchase it, she said, " I do not want that picture, for
I feel the subject of it in my soul.*'

Tho same feeling predominated in the mind of one of her
Qiost illustrious contem|)orarie8, though of a very differeni
itiimp of character from iierself, — Simon, Count de Mont-
fort, of whom St. Louis related with admiration the follow-
iiiy: anecdote to Joinville : that when a person came to tell
liiin, " 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 wore much astonished,"
till! Count said to him — " Go to, you who doubt ; as for me,
I believe it implicitly, and I hope for thus belieying to re^
ceive a brighter crown in Paradise, than that the angeM
wear, because they, seeing Qod's wonders face to face, most
believe them."

God's image was surely too deeply engraven in Elizabeth'^
heart, too frequently present to her love, for her to require
ttie assistant 3 which the Church offers with generous compas^
Bion to common souls. Ravished in incessant contemplation}
even into the very presence of the Divinity and His mosi
august mysteries, she needed not the imperfect figures thai
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 td
))repare 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 endeaiS
voured to conceal these wonderful favours, they could noi
pass unnoticed by those who lived with her ; her joy and
irratitude often betrayed her, and the occurrence of thesd
visioDS was looked upon by her contemporaries as inconteit^

LIFE 0? IT. BLIIADETH,

Hile fkctp. The biij^Ih m»rc the uiutil mcMciiffprfl from ht.-v
▼en to this prtnlestiiieU «oul ; not only did thi?y convey to lur
WBrningfl and celestial liiMtructions, but they iilso cati). tr.
console her in the trials and accidents of thin (wshin^ lifr.

To relate one inntance, from ainon^Kt many others, Kll/^
fietli brought to her house a poor woman who was si( k ; on
her the tenderest cnrc was lavished ; she recovere<l nml touic
to flight one morning at a very early hour, carrying,' awuy
with her all the clothes belonging to her lienefactrcss— who
now, not having wherewith to cover herself, was obiijrtMJ t<(
remain in bed ; but fur from becoming impatient or (ii>' .m-
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 yon 0\e, nailed to the cross"— nnd
immediately, as when she had formerly given all her raiimiit
to the poor, she saw an angel coming with a fair gariiuMit,
which he gave to her, saying, " I do not now bring thee n
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.
ahd fortified her by his presence. After these celestial
visions, her face, according to the grave Conrad, beamed
with a marvellous brightne^i — a reflection of the Divine
uplendonr which had shone upon her, and from her beautiful
eyes proceeded rays like those of the sun. Those only who
were free ft'om the *iiiim of mortal sin, could look at her
without being daasM If she continued long in the state of
ecstasy, she aeqnireti such strength that ahe had not any need
of even the most trfiai«» nourishment lor a long space of
time. This spiritual %od sufficed for the sustenance of h«»r
Iwdy. For the rema.jdcr of the day, she lived only in Hiai,
h whose lovA she was all absorbed ; the onljr words she could

•f avRaAMT.

oup to exprop^ hor fet'linjr» on these orcnsionn, mere the fol-
lowing, from the Snered Text, "My soul fainted away wheo
my licjovwi spoke onto me.**

Thus wfts realized the prophetic instinct which hnd Im-
pollt'd her in her cbildhood to choose for pntron, friend and
fii'MJel the blessed Evangelist who had received the Privilege
of Love, and who, when re|)08ing on the bosom of hit
Saviour, had read there all the secrets of heaven. A divine
radiance was then abed over her life, which illumined her
whole beingf. No trial, no tribulation, could disturb h«r
^•'iitle sweetneas ; never was she troubled or irritated ; on
tli<> 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
iiici'ssantly, and the holy gift of tears which she had received
ill her early days became more plenteous according as she
ii|i|troached the tomb. The happier was she, the more she
wept ; but ber tears flowed as from a tranquil and hidden
8oiirce, without leaving a trace on ber features ; and far
from in the least degree disturbing the pore beauty and pla-
cidity of her countenance, they added to it a new charm ;
tlicy were the expressions of a heart for whose feelingB
words were all too weak.

And surely, as %« b^^fore read of the tears that human
love and cruel per^eciktion 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 tli« pearls of that crown which was placed on
ber fur brow, at her entrance to the eternal glory 3f heaven t

t84

LIFB or IT. BLIIABBTB,

CHAPTER XXIX.

BOW THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH, WHEN AGED TWFNTT-FOUR TEABI,
WAS SUMMONED TO THE ETERNAL WEDDING FEAST.

t !

** Jtm hiems tranMIt, lnib«r abilt et reoemlt: sargc* mkft mea, speciosa nica, 4
?«bL . . . Veiii siMnsa mea, et oMDnabcris."— Catii. IL 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
Bnfficiently 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, demanued 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, snr*
roanded by a beauteous light, and said in a sweet voice,—
•' C^me, Elizabeth, my spouse, my beloved one, come to the
tabernacle I have prepared for thee from eternity ; come,
I myself will conduct "hce thither." On awaking, she wai

OP BUKOART.

88ft

overjojed and began to make all the preparations for thii
huppy passage. She arranged all matters for her burial.
She went for t^e last time to visit her patients, and gave to
them and to her followers all that it was in her power to
hi'stow. Master Conrad was at this time stricken with a
grievons 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 friend of tiie poor
and sick. He received her with aflfcction, and she grieved to
gee him suffering so much. Then said he to her : " Whal
will become of you, my lady and dear child, when I am dead ?
How will you regulate your life ? Who will be your protector
againsi the wicked, and who will lead you to God V 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 attackea
by the illness which was to terminate the long death of he?
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. Towardi
tlie 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 towardf
her attendant, she said : " Where art thou, my beloved ?"
" Behold me," said the servant, adding, " dear lady, how
clijirmingly you have sung !" " What," said Elizabeth, " hast
fhoM im U«wd SWRttWlN^F fcnA on K»ce\Tb^g her response in
the jiffirmative, t!ie invalid resumed, " I will tell thee how a
littfe bird stood between nie and the wall, and he sung to

LIFE or ST. tLIZABBTB,

j'-h!:!;;'

'\\

for a long time so eweetly that my heart and soni were ^]iA
dened, and I was impelled to sing also. He revealed to q\«
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-
Doance 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, and
blessed them for the last time. She received only, besiiles
her domestics, some religions women who were .especially
attaclied to her, her eonfessor, and the poor child who suc-
ceeded in her care the leper whom Conrad had sent awa^ .
When they asked her why she excluded every one, she sain,
" I wish to remain alone with God, and to meditate on the
dreadful day of the la«t judgment, and on my Almighty
Judge." Then she began to weep and to invoke the mercy
of God.

On Sunday, the vigil of the octave of St. Martin's dav,
after Matins, she confessed to Conrad who was suflBciently
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, nothin(r
that had not been a thousand times washed away by the most
sincere contrition." Her confession concluded, Conrad asked
what was her last will with regard to her wealth and posses-
sions. " I am astonished," said she, " that yon should fmt
such a question to me ; for you 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 yon had granted permission, I would have been glad
to give up all, and to live in a cell, snbtisting on the daily

r* 1

Of nUNOART.

887

pittance that other poor ones vonid have bestowed upon me.
For a long time, all of which I was apparently mistress, be-
lonu^ed in ideality to the poor. Distribute amongst them what-
ever I ^:^.▼e, except this old robe I now wear, and in which
[ 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 is
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 mfinite mercy."

She then requested that she should be burled in the Church
of the hos-j)'*"^ she had founded and dedicated in honour of
St. Pranci' . >: le had no further care for the buriat of her
body, so absorbed was she in the anticipation of her souVs
entrance into Heaven. 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 I
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,
fihe 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
li

838

Live or ST. BLIIARBT*,

;l i

■!||^

;!!j;>1i

tongae, nsaally so slow to spesk, proclaimed her feelin^.'s rq
fervently, and with such prudence and efficacy, that tlionc.'h
she had never spoken so much before, not a single word won
lost.

Those present remarked that all she had ever heard from
preaeherr nr read in devout books, or learned in her (m sta-
sies, canfic to her mind to be imparted to her maidens before
her death. A wonderful fountain of eloquence and lerirnin;;
seemed to spring up in her soul at the very moment in which
it was about to fly from this world. In rememberinp^ ilie
Holy Scriptures, she selected the passages most aflfectini^ to
the memory of a loving soul like hers. She recited the wholo
passage of the Gospel relating to the raising of Lazarus from
the de.'id, and spoke with wonderful pathos of the visit diut
Jesus made to tlie blessed sisters Martha and Mary, when He
deigned to sympathise in their grief — when He went with
them to their brother's tomb, ar>d showed his tender and sin-
cere compassion, in mingling with their sorrow, tears from
His diviue 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 contemplatiii!:;
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,
alvrays so full of compassion and sympathy, though wingin<r
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 onesj* And
tb«D she bowed her head and for a long time kept a coidpleto

■ i

12 5

OF BUHOAET.

lilence. Ia a little time after, though the bjstanders saw no
motion of her lips, they again heard a faint, sweet mosic.
When thej qnestioned her on this subject she replied, " Fare
you not heard them who chaunted with me ? I sung as well
as I could with them." " No faithful soul will doobt,'' says
hor historian, " but that she already united her sweet Toice *
(3 the songs of triumph, and the delicious harmony of the
celestial choirs who expected the moment of her entrance into
thf'ir ranks ; already she magnified the praises of the Lord
with His angels.''

She remained from the closing of the day until the first
eroding of the cock in a state of boundless joy, of pious ex-
ultation and fervent devotion. At the moment of victory
(vith good reason she celebrated the termination of her many
trials. Already sure of her glorious crown, she said to hef
attendants a few minutes before midnight : " What shall wo
do if our enemy, the devil, should appear t" In an instant
after she cried out in a loud clear voice, " Fly, fly, thoa
wicked one, I renounce thee I" 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 us
speak of God and of the infant Jesus, for it is now midnight,
the hour in which Jesus was bom, 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 feci no more pain than if I was not
ill — 1 recommend you all to God." She spoke again, inspired

LIIB OV IT. ■LIZABBTH,

' ■'

n^ 1'-

by the Holy Spirit, bat her words, which breathed the purest
loTe of God, bave not been particularly recorded. At kngth
the said, " Oh Mary« come to my assistance t the moment \m
arrived when God sammons his friend to the wedding feast.
The bridegroom seeks His sponse.'' Then in a low tone she
Added, *' Silence I . . . . Silence ! . . . . '^ In prononncing tliese
words she b. ^d her head as if fhUing into a gentle slumber,
and in blisb /'.athed her last sigh. Her soul ascended to
Heaven snrrosnded by angels and saints who had come to
meet her. A delicious perfume filled the humble cottage
which now contained bat her mortal remains, and those pre-
sent heard a chorus of heavenly voices singing with inetlable
barmony the sublime anthem of the Church, ** Regnum mundi^
9t omnem ornatum tOKuH amtempsi propter amorem Dominx
met Je»u Chriati /"

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 Aldenbcr-
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 religions who wrote the life of the dear
Saint, exclaims, " Do you blame me, dear reader, for having
w ritten that Elis^abeth 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 v^le of tears ; she left it
not with pain. Death, which is so hard and so terrible a
straggle, had no share in this departure, in which a •^'/tnous
and holy life was succeeded by a triumphant and blessed
eternity : it was rather a privilege of grace than a '^anishment
of sin ; an achievement of victory, not a foili"^ of himaB
feature.''

OV «U«OABT.

1*11

CHAPTER XXX.

BCW THB PBAH SAINT BLIZA9BTH WA9 BURISD « TfTO 3HUB0B WMAM
HEK nOSPITlL, AND HOW EVEN VnK LITTLII mRDf OF nfATB!!
CELEBRATB) B9K QBSBQUIBa.

"leee qnod Mneoplvl,J«in vtdeo; qiMd «p«f»Tl,Jain toii*o: Ipilraai |«Ml»ta
Miwqnem ta terrii poeiu, tote d«irotloM An^uii."—Anthtm qf fl. Afnt^—ifomam

DiFFi^RENT from fill bqinfin glory, tbat of the laints com-
nieDces or ei^rth, ^s it does in heaven, bat with their death ;
it appears that a^ if, in bis parental solicitodc, the Lord wills
always to leavf their humility onder the protection of the
forgetfqlnesf, Of efen of the insnlts of the world, nntil nothing
but their mortal part remains to be exposed to its dangerous
praises.

Thus, scarcely had the sonl of our Elizabeth sought the
rich repose of heaven, when her body became the object of
a veneration which hnd 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 cahimniated,
occupied the thonghts and filled the hearts of all faithful Ca-
tiiolics, from the Supreme Head of the ChQr3h to the hum-
blest pilgrim of pious Germany.

Wiien 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 tlie promises of the glorious victories she had gained
over all human frailtiee during her short life.

They gave b^r for a shroad the torn g^ments which bad
been her only cbthiug; and which she herself had desired

■ ( '

S43

LIFK Of IT. ILIZABBTR,

ii:;^.-

■h

! ;

Bhonld form ^ her grave-clothes. Her sacred body was thei
taken by Franciscan Religions, 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 lior
glory, as it had been the place where many of her h(ruio
Bdcriflces for the love of God and of the poor had been niudo.
In this chapel she most frequently prayed, and perfoniio(i
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, can.j to render the last honours
to her who was so early summoned to receive the reward of
ber 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 hir
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
how could we describe the anguish of those who had lost in
her a support and m example ? Amongst others, the Frao*
ciscans, whose sister she was by rule and by habit, and tc
whom she had ever been a mother, by the powerful protoc-
tion she had afforded them, deplored her loss with deep
affliction. The father who haft left us her biography says—
'^ When I think upon Elisabeth I would &r rather weep 'imn
•rrit«.'»

or RUNOAET.

The lore and derotion of the people exacted permission to
have her cherished remains left for fonr days in the Charcb,
ill the midst of the pious multitude, who continnully prayed
there and sang canticles. Her countenance was uiicorered,
and offered to their contemplation the most enchanting sight
Her youthful beauty had reappeared, with all its freshnew
iiiid brilliancy ; the bloom of her early life again visited her
cliecks. Her flesh, far from being rendered stark by death,
wtis 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*
lugs. But scarcely had she expired, when her face became
60 smooth, so majestic, and so beautiful, that this sudden
cliange 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
tliose 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 thfit glory had io
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
be&ttty 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 io
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 tjrpe of the grace
and virtue of which it had been the mortal covering. Piont
•ouls remembered the words of the wise man, when be tai^

liri OF ST. BLIIABIT*.

t;»

' li

ikat " tbe memory of the jast it Hko the odoar of m aromatic
balm.''

"Tliia wonderful fra^rranee," sajt the vnMdf wtiom w«
previously quoted, "served to eonsole \}i9 poor and all tlit;
ivy>ple for the lose they had sustained ; this hearenly Intiin
gently soothed their weariness, and stayed the sad flow of
tbeir tears and regrets, by the assarance they received from
this miraculous sign, that, though the holy one was (hml,
the could still be, even more than daring her lifetime, tlie
charitable mother of the poor — the eertaiii refuge of the
alRicted, aod that the odoriferous incense of her prayer*),
aMcnding for ever to the throne of DiWite Magesty, would
obtain graces for afl those who invoked her in tiieir neassi-
ties."

On the fourth day after her death, hef obsequies were
eelebnuted with tbe greatest solenraiCy. Thit pure and pre
eioui treasure, this rich and daszling jewel, was hidden iin
der an humble ston^ in the chapel of her hospital, in pre-
ience of the Abbots and Religious of several neighbouring
ttonasteiles, and a crowd of people, whose grief was violent,
hut most expressivei, and whom it required the best efforts
of the clergy to keep in order.

It was certainly a wonderful homage, that paid to the
dieparted saint on this occasion ; but with the grief of these
simple ones, many hearts beat with sentiments truly wortliy
of her, for all raised their voices to heaven in accents of fer-
tent devotion and pious gratitude, whidi they experienced,
in having been permitted to see one, whose example was so
glorious and so Worthy of imitation.

Bat 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-
neMl ceremony, heard a harmony which astonished her ex

or tuvuAitr.

inMni'l? ; she went outside, accompanied bj soTcral persons,
to Icarn whence it proceeded — and tliey saw on the roof of
the church an immense number of birds, of a npccies un-
known to men before that time, and these sunj^ in tones so
sweet and varied, that all who listened were fillid with ad-
ti.iratioQ, TUeio |ittl^ creatures seemed to celebrate this
glurioos birkl-aerviee. They were, according to the opinions
of some, the angels who had borne Elizabeth's happ/ soul
to heaven, and who had now returned to honour her body
by their hymns of eelettial ^^adneaa.

"These little birds," says St. Bona venture, "rendered
testuuoqy tp her purity by speaking of her in tlic^r laugqage
at her burial, and singing with such wondrous sweetness ove^
Iter tomb. He who spoke by the mouth of an ass, to rcprovp
tlie fplly of a prophet, could as well proclAim by tie voiee of
birds th« 'mmd^f)$ of a a^int''

946

LIFK Of ST. ILltABITB,

CHAPTER XXXI.

m Till WONDRRrrL MIRACLRS OBTAINED rROM OOD BT TIIS IXTm.
CESSION or TUB DEAR ST. KLIZABBTH, AND HOW ANIIGUSLY II R|
■ROTOEB'IN-LAW, DUKE OOMRAD, WISHBO TO BAVB nCR CiNOX-
IZBD.

* la Tito SM iKit raoMln, •! la oiorto minMlk o^fvatnt Mt.**

EocL ilTlll. II.

The Lord delayed not the manifestation of the iniracuiouH
power with wliich He was pleased lieneeforth to invest Inr
whose whole life had been bnt one long act of humility. To
the invincible love which had preferred in this world, loii« li-
ness and misery for His sake, He hastened to bestow, as a
iure pledge of victory, the right of disposing of the treusm-t «
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 rcfjiK st
her assistance. For more than forty years, this unhap])y one
languished from an interior grief, a bitter heart-wound, that
no human remedy could heal ; but after having invoked tliin
zealous consolatrix of all sufiferings, 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 (•{>
erated by her intercession; and it is iuteresting to remark liow
this tender and loving soul, who had endured so many heai t-
felt sorrows during her life, should have chosen as the first nlr
ject of her merciful interposition in heaven, one of those painrul
interior trials which the science of man knows not how tu lio.il,
tor even to compassionate. ,

fiome little time after, there came to her tomb a prelnia

or noMOAiif.

947

of moAt illufltrlous birth and hiffh ecele»iMtictil di^iUy : history
liiis not recorded his name, but has acciMcd liiin of haviu§
Im(1 addicted to all excessefl of vice, which the sacred eharac>
t( r of his oiBce rendered still more odious. OftcntirnM «
l>roy to remorse and shame, he hod recourse to tlio tribonal
ot )>enance, but fruitlessly ; at the first temptation, he yielded
n.rain, and his relapses became more and more scandalooa
mid deplorable. Still he strugji^led against his frailty, and,
siii-staincd as he was, he came to seek strength at the shrine
of the pure and holy Elizabeth. He prayed, ind inyoked
b(>r protection and intercession, wbilnt shedding a torrent of
tours, and remained kneeling for many hours, al)SO!'bed in
frrvour and deep contrition. He ceased not his ardent iap>
plications, nntil in his soul be felt convinced that they had
reached the Mercy-seat, and that the Lord had listened to
the petition that his well-beloved Elizabeth had preset .le J in
the name of this poor victim of sin ; he felt himself mdaed
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, suiTering and oppressed under the chafau
of sin, learned to shake them off near tit. v\)st!ng-place of
tliis holy woman, who in her life-time had so nobly rent
liicra asunder ; of these, the most freer, intly recorded are of
men who learned to triumph over the passions of hatred,
pride, avarice, and anger ; and surely, to escape from such
Bins, tliey could not follow a more faithful guide than her
who had humbled herself to the lowest — who had given hef
wliole being to Qod, and all her wealth to His poor — and
who had passed her life in the practice of aniTersal Iot« and
forgivenesg I

LIPB Of it. SLIZABBTH,

ii :

ill

• 1*
1 i

!| i

.; 1

1 ;

■3

1 :■■ >

! 5

in.

Not only did spiritaal infinnities experience ihe effet ts of
her efficacious piety ; physical sufferings and infirmities, such
as slie had so continnally soothed dnring her life, t)ion<rli
bsing in her the compassionate norse, foceiyed instca<l, a
iihare of the new and wonderful power which rendered Ikt
by Ood^s mercy, their nnfailing healer and most skilful })liy
sician.

An interesting narrative informs as how quickly she exor-
cised this benevolent faculty, and how her glorified soul re-
tained the gentle familiarity with the hambl* and the poor,
which was the great charm of her mortal life. At the M
nastery of Rcynhartsbrunn, where Dnke Lonis reposed with
bis ancestors, there was a lay-brother, who filled the ofli* e
of miller ; he was a man of fervent piety, who practisi ()
many anstcrities. Amongst others, he always wore an iron
cuirass on his body, the better to mortify the flesh. The
Duchess, in her freqnent visits to the Abbey, had remarked
this poor brother, and entertained for him, on account of his
sanctity, a special aflfection. One day when she had come to
pray at the tonib of her husband, she met the brother niilh i
and spoke to him with great kindness; she exacted from Inn:
a^ promise of joining with her in a inutnal and spiritUHl cnm-
munity of prayers, in pledge of which she extended her haii<l
Mid took his, notwithstanding the resistance of the huuille
monk, who, in his simplicity, blushed at touching the hnmi
of so illustrious a lady. Some time after, as he was lu
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, Imt
hs waited patiently until it should please the Lord to give
him relief. During the night of the 19th November, while
the soul of his noble and holy sister was returning to (mh\
irtio made it, the brother miller was keeping vigil, piaying in
bis abbey-church, and groaning with ihe pain of Lis brukun

09 aHflOARY.

849

arm Boddeulj he taw the Dncfaett Elizabeth appear befora
him, dad in royal obee, and resplendent with a wonderftif
Ii<;ht. She said to him, with her accastomed gentleness-^
"What dost thou, good Brother Volkmar, and how art
tbon V* Though alarmed and dazzled by the clear brilliancy
that shone aroand her, he recognised her and said — " How is
it, dear lady, that yoo who, ordinarily, were clothed in sneh
miserable garments, have now snch beantifnl and gorgeoas
raiment V* " 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 shatter<jd by the mill, and healed it.

This touching of the wounded member seemed so painfuT
to him, that he awoke, as if from a dream, and found hit
hand and arm entirely sound and well. He then thanked th6
Lord, and that dear sister who had thought of him on hei
entrance into heaven.

Bnt still greater prodigies took place on the days immo
diately after her obsequies ; nnhappy creatures, suffering
under ^inM maladies — deaf, lame, blind, idiots, leperSi
paralytics, some of whom had come, thinking her still alive,
to implore her assistance-— all of whom were cured, aftef
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 wai
iwom to before the Apostolic Judges ; it will afford the reader
wme idea of the others.

A man of Marburg nanned Henry, aged forty years, had
101 8om«3 time such weak sight that he often mistook cornfields
for the high road, and this drew upon him the ridicule of hit
companions.

At length he became entirely blind, and had to be ltd
wherever he wished to go. He had himself guided to tba
tomb of her who was already denoiuinated the happy MtEtk

■' ^S

{

''f lot

ii r! -■ '

860

LIFB Of ST. BLIZABITH,

r !

r r ■

ill

beth, Mid he made a tow to her and offered two wax tai^ert
The judges asked him what words he used when ioToking her,
and he repeated the following :

" Dear Lady, St. Elizabeth, cnre mj eyes, and I will al
ways be thy faithful servant, and I will pay each year two
oencc to thy hospitaP — and immediately he received clenret
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 God and of the Church ;
he already had the happiness of canonizing Saint Francis of
Assisium, and hnd in this same year inscribed by the side of
Ihe 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 illustrioni
memory, during her life, our dearest daughter in Jesus Christ

OP BUNOART.

3ftl

ind Dachess of Thariagia ; how from weak and fragilo as she
was by nature, He by His grace made her strong — analtcr*
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 a// that glistens it
not goldf 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 God 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 theiy to
Rome by trust-worthy messengers. He prescribed at the
same time the forms which were to be observed in the exami-
nation of witnessii, with tn attention wen to the most minute
details, which proves at once his care and wisdom in this de-
licate a£fair.

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. Lawrence (10th Au-
gust, 1232), two Altars which the faithful had erected in ho-
nour of Elbsabcth 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 tbe
Pope, so without further reflection, he enjoined all thoet

aft»

IIFB OV IT. StIIABBTR,

{■^

!■, 1

! 1

amongst his ftsditory who had obtained aDj core or heavenly
favour through the intercesslou of the Duchess, to prtsint
thcmselvea with their wituesses or« the next morniug at th«
hour of Prime, before the Archbishop of Mayence, and the
other Prelates who bad come to assist at the dodicatiou of ihe
Altars.

Am the appointee^ time a considerable number of pors )ni
were assembled, all < .' v horn affirmed that they had received
graces through tho 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 statcnionti
were written out ; he could not seal them, neither could tlie
other Prelates, as none of them had brought their episcopal
seals.

faster Conrad copied these depositions word for word, aMd
receired many others on oatb ; 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
^he historian of the saint's life could derive information. Tiiis
first enumeration of miracles transmitted by Master Conrad,
contains detailed accounts of thirty-seven sudden and super-
natural cures, made out accordiiig to the Pope's directioiis,
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 number 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 Saiut Elizabeth," said
they, " cure my limb and I will ever be thy faithful servant."
Or, ** Dear painted ladj and Dncbess Elizabeth, I recommeod

OF HUNOART.

9Aa

to thee my dsnghter." " blessed Elizaf)eth ," cried a poor
n:iother, whose son had died and was about to be baned«
"why have I thus lost my child ? come to my assistance and
bring him again to life." In a moment after the pnlses of
t))e child began to beat, he was restored from the dead, and
after haying for a long time striven to speak, he said towards
midnight, " Where am I, bcloYed ^" He had not as yet re-
cognised hie mother.

Another poor woman, whose daughter had been for five
years suffering from painftil 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 gone 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
nlso affected with a spinal malady, was brought in a chariol
to the grave of the Duchess, where the pain in his back was
cared, and as they brought him home he said, " Saint Elizik.
beih, I return no more to thy shrine, unless that by thy mer-
uy I can go there on my feet ; but indeed I will go if thot
obtainest for me that favour." Some days after, on the feail

Lirit 07 IT. B&IBA.BITB,

■; i!

of All Saints; he fband that strength was entirely restored to
bis limbs, and that he was thus enabled to accomplish hii
fow.

It is almost with regret that we discootiniie tbese aur-
dotes, so replete are tbe;^ with precious traces of the fuith and
manners of that ag<j«

This coUeetioB of testimonj was not completed ulu! t!,;
first months of the year 1233, and tlieir tranamissi :>i to llome
WAS delayed by some cause ankuown to oa. Before 1(117
wore sent Comrad had perished, the victiui of hia zeul for tl/o
l^ith.

The boldness with which he accused and pursued the n l os
and even pov'»erful {>rinceB wlien once their tendency to here>y
was suspected, excat^^ ihak terrible hatred and raitcoor against
him, and these i> clings were augmented by the excessive, and
perha[>3 sometimes, unjust severity of many of his proceedings
On the 30th of July, as he waa jauineying from Mayence to
Marburg, he wa& surprised near the village of ICappel by sev-
eral squires and vassals of the Count de Sayn, whom he luui
SKScused of heresy; they darted upon liim and strangled him.
The assassins wished to spare his disciple and companion^ Bro-
ther Gerard, a Franciscan, but he dung so closely to his mas-
ter that it was impossible to kill one without the other. The
bodies of Conrad and his fiiend were canied to Marburg with
tile deep r^et of the people. He was interred in the same
ehapel with the Duchess, and at. a little distance from her se-
pulchral stone.

The death of Conrad, who had so fkithAilly watched over
Her posthumons glory, as he Bad over her souPs weal durin;^
her life, was a great obstaclie in the way of the canoniration ^f
Blizabeth, which so many faithful souls had desired and hoped
for. Some of the proofe that he had collected were neglect ci
0r lost; and ths popular feeling, on the subject began to de

OP B<CH«ARr.

But the Lord delayed not to raiae ap t new and tealow
defender of the glory of His homble servant, and that at the
time that it wa« least expected. Of the two broUiers left by
Duke Loois^ husband of our dear Elizabeth, and of whoei
base oondoct towards their sister-in-law we have read, the
elder, Henry, governed the dommious during the minority of
Hermann, son of Lonis ; the other, Courad, revelled in all the
unbridled indulgence that youthful passion coold suggest. lo
1232, on account of a penance inflicted by the Archbishop of
Mayenoe on the abbot <of Reynhartsbrunh, who was always
protected by the House of Thviugia, the Landgrave Conrad
was so ai^y with the Prelate that he rushed upon him in
the assembled chapter at Erfurtb, dragged him by the hair,
threw him on the ground and would have stabbed him bat
that his servants interfered. But not content with this ex-
cess, he began to ravage the possessions of the See of Jiiiay
ence, and amongst other places the city of Fritzlar.

He took it by assault, and to revenge the derision with
which be 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 Qod.

There came to his gate one day, a girl of bad character,
who asked him for some relief ; the Landgrave reproached her
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
figitation, reflecting how much more guilty he was than the
unhappy woman whom he had insulted, whom poverty had
impelled to vice/ whilst he, who was rich and powerful, madi

.. I

LIFE OF 8T. ILIIABBTH,

•o bad a ase of all God'R gifts. In the morning he coromniii*
cated these thoughts to his companions in crime and violcm e,
and learned with extreme surprise that thej had mudo tlm
same reflections ; they regarded this interior voice, speakini?
to them simultaneously, as a warning from Heaven, and tlio;
resolved to do penance and to amend their lives.

They went first on a pilgrimage barefooted to Qladenbncli,
and thence to Rome, to obtain from the Pope himself absohi-
lion of their sins.

When they arrived at Rome (1233), Conrad gave an ox-
ample of the most sincere repentance and fervent pitty.
Every day he received &.; bis table twenty-four poor people
whom he served himself. The Pope gave hiui absolution on
condition of being reconciled with the Archbishop of Maycnoe
and with all those whom he had wronged, of building and en-
dowing a monastei'y 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 Grod, the remembrance of his holy and humble sister-in-law,
whom he had despised and persecuted, presented itself to his
mind ; he resolved to atone for the injuries he had done In r
by labouring to extend her glory ; and in the conversations 1
had with the Sovereign Pontiff he spoke of her great sanctity
and urged her speedy canonization.

Immediately after his return to Qermany 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 iu
his hand, he knelt at the Chnrch-porch and invited all who
•rishcd to do so to come and administer to him the dis4MpIino

i«

Of BUXOARr.

991

Of all the crowd there was found bat one willing to puniah
biia, and that waa an old woman who advanced and gave him
several stripes on the back which he endured with great pa*
ti< nee. He then set about re-constmcthig the Monastery
aiid the Church where he established canons ; and at the same
time ho conceded many important privileges to the town of
Fritzlar At his return to Eisenach, with the assistance of
his brother Hunry, be founded a content of Friars Preachers,
uudiT the iiivocation of C}t. John, but for the special intention
of \m sister-in-law Elizabeth, to atone for his having been au
accomplice in exposing her to the bitter sufferings she had
eudured in that same town of Eisenach after her cruel expul-
sioii from Wartburg, /

From this time forward the young Landgrave devoted him-
coif to the extension of Elizabeth's glory, with a zeal similar
10 that of the deceased Master Conrad. Having decided
ipon entering the Teutonic Order, he took the habit and Cross
111 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
karrounding 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
Dachess Elizabeth, who was interred there, in order, as he
laid in his petition to the Pope, that this sacred body, alr^sady
a-lebrated by the veneration of the ilaithful, 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 thiougb
the intercession of Elizabeth. The Pope yielded at length to
bis pniyers, and wishing, says a contemporary writer, that

Ztrm t>V IT. BLItABITH,

< I

the ptoQs flimplidtj of l;h« Obarch militant «hoald no' )>e dc
ueived, if the facta brought forward were not proved, bin aNc
that the Charch triumphant siiotild not be deprircd of thii
addition to its glory, if the truth wan fbniid eqaa to tlM> r*^
nowtt, in a brief dated the 5th of the Ides of October, \2?,i,
tlie Pontiff charged the Bishop of Hiideaheira, the al«bi)tti|
Uermamj de Qeoi^nthal and Raymond de Herford to pro* icU]
to a new examination of the miracles attributed to Rliztihoth.
In this brief he also ordered the three OoramlKearies to 8*iid{
bim the reeolt of the Inqoiriea made before by the Arelibishup
of Mayenee and Master Oonmd, and in «ase they coiibi n«>t|
find these, to take in writini^ the testimony of the persons ))re
viousiy examined, and of all others who C(yold afford moro in
formation, and t^send all to Rome before the expiration of livej
months from the receipt of this letter. The Bishop and his
colleagues, docSe to the injunctions of the Sovereign PoutifTj
<had this brief fniblished in the surrounding dioceses, anil
appointed a day for all the faithful who knew of any cure or
fpnaoe Obtained tbrongh the intercession of the Duchess to come I
to iSdarbnrg, and where possible, that these facts should be
iittested by their pi^iates and pastors. On the day fixed t lie
▲postoKc Oommiflsaries w«nt to Marbonrg, where they found |
•Assembled several thousand i^ersons come from all parts of!
J<ihirope, with many of the Abbots of the Cistercian and Pre-j
feBonstFatensian Orders, a great nnmber of Priors, and ofi
Friars Minors and Preachers, of Canons regular of the Tea-
tonic Ord», and of many other learned and prudent men. The i
witnesses made tbehr depositions on oath before this solemn
tribunal ; their testimonies were scrapnlously weighed and j
examined by ecclesiastical lawyers and professors of jaris-
prudenca.

We. do not recognise in this inquiry- any names but tbost
of the four attendants of the Duchess, Guta who had lived I
Jirith her from her Mh year, Ysentrode her coofidaut 6nd best j

f::);

•f KOH»ik»T»

(H^nd, Elizabeth and Irmengardi .. iio had been in her
rice flaring her sojourn at Marburg. These four then de-
lailtd ail they knew of the life of their mistress ; these price-
less narratives have been preserved entire, and have furnished
|ns with most of the interesting aod torching anecdotes that
!«re have related in the course of this history. The deposi-
jtions of roost of the other witnassei referred to miracles ob-
tained through her iuterccssion ; amongst the immense nqin-
ber reported, we remark the resuscitation of sttveral persons
from the dead. An hundred and twenty -nine cases were
judged the worthiest of being transcribed and forv ^rded to
RoMie, after having been read and sealed by the Bishop of
Hildesheim and the other Prelates and Abbots. The Abbot
B< rnard de Buch, Salomon Magnus, a Dominican, and Bro-
ther Conrad of the Teutonic Order, formerly Landgrave and
Ibrother-inhlaw of the Saint, were appointed to bring to the
Pope the rc>8alt of this examination, as well as of that made
ittirce years before by MoHter Conrad. They were at the
Uine time the bearers of letters firom a great anmber of
iBi^shops, Abbots, Princea, Prinoeasea, and nobles of every d»
mee, who humbly requested the common Father of the faith-
libl, to confirm her right to veneration on earth who had already
[received the felicitations of the angels, and not to suffer the
mm tiame of celestial charity, enkindled by the hand of (Jod
Iio serve as an example te the world, to be obscured by the viip
Lurs of contempt, or extini^uiahed by the scoffing of h nosy.

IIFI or IT. BLIIABBTB,

CHAPTER XXXn.

■OW THl DIAR ST. BLIZABXTn WAB OANOBTZBD BT POPS ORFoort
▲ BD TUB GREAT JOY AND TKMBUATION OF TUB FAITlin I H
GERMANY ON TUB OCOABlOif OF TUB BXALTATION OF UBi: hlL*
108 AT MARBURG.

** AoooDtUvcmat oall JtutltUtn ^ui, at vldcrant omnai popall glorUm rjiii^"

Pa. xo»l

''Mlbl aaMia nlmtt booorifloatl •ant, amid tol, Dens."

/>«. oxxzil. 11

In the spring-time of the year 1235, the Pope was at Porn-
gia, iu the same city where sevea years before he had catiou-
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 imiu-
ble woman, who had been in Qermany his first-born Miuorite
child, and the most ardent of his disciples. Their arrival
made a great impression on the clergy and the people.

The Pontifif 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 ; be
commnnicated all the details transmitted of the life of Eliza-
beth and of the miracles attributed to her. They were great Ij
surprised, we are informed, arid 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. Neyertheicss
the Pope resolved to use the greatest vigilance and severity in
tne examination of these miracles ; he proceeded to it with the
cautiousness which characterized him, and scrupulously oi>

07 nv99A%r,

set

irrvrd all the formal itios required to diwipatc even the leait
fliHdow of doubt. The care and exactness wliich were awd
in this di8ca<»ion were so remarkable, that it merited to be
(itcd 08 a model after the lapse of five centuries, by Benedict
XIV., one of the mo:<t illustrious succefoors of Gregory IX.
All these precautions, however, served but to render the truth
more i/icontestible and brilliant ; the more severe was the ex*
aiiiiraricn in respect to facta and persons, the more complete
was c^eir certainty shown ; and to use the language of con-
trmporary writers, the ploughshare of a|)Ostolic authority io
passiug over this yet unexplored field, brought to light an
imme'ise treasure of sanctity ; and it was plainly seen that the
liand of the Lord had guided the dear Elizabeth through the
buffetings of the tempestuous waves of earthly tribulation, and
landed her upon the shoi*e 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
bad 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,
cried ont, "Canonization, Most holy Father, Canonization.
an*d that without delay." The Pope required no further pre»
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 to make all the preparations necessary fSor
this imposing solemnity.

The day of the great feast having srriTed, the Pope, «^
16

:l.< ,»

^•03

LirK or 8T. SLIZABKTB,

•![|

I ...1.

*coitrpaDiod by tho patriarchs, cwdiimls, and prdates, and foV
lowed by several thousand people, with the sound of tiuiiii»cu|
and other instrutnenta of music, walked in procession to tii^j
convent of the Dominicans at Perugia; every one, from the'
Pope to iJtie lowest of the people, earned tapers which the
Idindgrave had provided &t his own expense.

Hie procession entered the Church, and the preparatoi-y

'-ceremonies having been performed, the Cardinal Beacon, &s-
fiisiant of the Pone, read in a loud voice for the ^ithful, an

^Hccount of the liie and miracles of Elisabeth, 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
tltesd fervent Christians, happy in counting thns a new and
powerful friend in Heaven. After this, the Pope requester'
all present to join him in praying that God would not permit
them to T)e deceived in this matter. When every one was
kneeling the Pope entoned the Veni Creator Spiritus, which
w'as all sung by the assembly. When the hymn was termi-
nated the Cardinal Deacon at the Pope's right hand said, Flee-
tarrms genua^ and then his Holiness and all the people knelt

>^ttnd prayed during a certain time ; then the Cardinal on the
left said, Levate, and ail arose. The Pope was ^throned
and assumed the mitre, then he declared £3izabeth a Saint in
the fbllowing '^ords :

" In honour of the Almighty God, the Father and the Son
•ad 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,
Pet^r and Paul, and by our own, we declare and define that
Elizabeth of happy memory, in her life-time Duchess of Tim-
' ringia, is a saint, atid should be mscribed in the catalogue of
the s&ints. We insert her name there onrselres, and at the
same time ordain that the Universal Chorch celebrate hrr
FeMt "and Office with 4ile sdlcmnitj «nd devotion, every yeaf

I'i

or avvoABT.

8«i

i 1^ 11

•u tie ftnoiTenary daj of her death, the 18tb of the Rate^di
of December. And in additioD, by the same authority, we
grant to all the faithfal, who with true contrition shall have
confessed their sins and shall visit her tomb on that day, ar
indulgence of one yeai* and forty days.^

The soond of organs and the peal of bells hailed the last
worda of the Pontiff, who having soon after laid down hit
mitre entoned the canticle of joy, Te Deum UtudamMs^ which
was song by the congregation with harmony and entbosiasm
sufficient to ascend even to the Beavens. A Cardinal Deacon
at its conclusion said in a loud voice :

On pro nobis Sanete Elisabeth. AUelnlal

and the Pope channted the collect or prayer, which he ha4
himself composed in honour of the new saint. Then the Car-
dinid Deacon said the Confiteor^ inserting therein the name of
Elizabeth immediately after those of tiie Apostles; and the
Pope gave the usual absolntioia and benediction, making men-
tion of her when commemorating the merits and prayers ol
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 tapei-s, bread, and wine ;
with two turtle-doves, as emblems of the contemplative and
solitary life, and two doves representing the active, but pore
and faithful life, and finally, a cage ftiH of little birds, which
were set. at liberty as symbols of the aspirings of holy soulff
to God.

In the same convent of the Dominicans at Perngia, where
this ceremony had taken place, a new Altar was erected in
hononr of the Saint, to which the Sovereign PontifiT attached
the privilege of an indulgence of thirty days for all who came
to pray there. This was then the first place where tlie vene
ration of the dear St. Elizabeth was officially celebrated, and
ever after the religious of that convent honoured her feaet

Sd4

LIFE or ST. ILIZABETU,

day by great solemnities, and by cbaonting her uflioc with
tbe same melodies used in that of their holy father, St.
Dominic.

To increase the joy of this so happy day, the good Duke
Conrad invited to his own table three hundred religious, and
sent an abundance of bread, wine, fish, eggs, milk, kc. to
several convents in the neighbourhood, and particularly to
those of the poor Clares, to whom the new Saint seemed to be
to special Patroness in Heaven, after having been their rival
upon earth ; he also distributed to several thousaud 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-
dci', 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 wliiih
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-
Bideration. Then he gave his Papal benediction, and when
embracing him shed many tears.

On the first of June, 1235, the Pope published the Ball of
Canonizrtion, which was immediately forwarded to all the
Princes and Bishops of the Church.

The following translation, with some corrections, is that
pven by Father AppolUnaris in his history, page 51ft

OF HUNOABT.

"Gregory, servant of thb servants or Odd.

"To all the Archbishops, Bishops, Abbots, Priors, Arch-
"deacons, Priests, and other prelates of the Church by whom
*' these letters shall be received. Health.

"Tli« 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 liniute,) from His
" Heavenly throne He entered and concealed Himself within
" the virginal body of His most blessed mother. He there as-
"sumed the weak^l^ss of our nature, nwd 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 atttentioi

a0»

LIFE or Sf. ILISABSTR,

"and wisely nnderatanding this admirable economj of oni
** salvation, coorageoualy resoired to follow the footsteps of
" the Saviour, apd to Laboar with all her strength in the
"practice of virtue ; in order to rendt^r herself worthy to ha
" illumined with the eternal Light, from the dawning of hi r
** life until its evening, she nev^r ceased to rtyoice in tiie (!<>•
" lights of celestial love, and with supernatural fervour .sh^
'* employed all the powers of her heart to love solely ami
"sovereignly Jesu^ Christ, our Sayionr, who being true G(j(l
" and true eternal Son of Godt became man and Son of the
** blessed Virgin, Queen of angels and of men ; a most puro
** and ardent love which replenished her with an abundanco
*'of heavenly sweetness, and imparted to her the divine
^ favours which are bestowed at the bauquet of the adorable
" Lamb.

" And being enlightened with this same inejGfable clarity aud
" acting as a true child of the Gospel, she saw In the person
" of her neighbour this divine Jesus, the only object of her
" uffectior. 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 cherislieu
" 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 and indigent to supply all things necessary for them in
*' abundance. She was but of that youthful age when chil-
" dren still require instr actors, 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
" manner, at the disposal of the poor, she entertained sucb

to"-'

•• of h

" self

" sati

" thii

" abl

" cha

«»«!.

((

aw auKaukET.

»n

' an esteem for their condition, and «tro?e with so much a»-
" sidaity to conciliate the aflTection and faTOur of those whom
" people of her raitk usually regard as contemptible and in-
" supportable, that not alone content with gi?iDg thorn olinf
**from her abundant riches, exlioostin,^ her granories, ii«r
" coffers, and her purae to help them, she also reuoiukoed the
" use of all delicacies prepared for her noarisliment, and ri«
'* gorously macerated her frail body by fasting and the pongs
" 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 noUe prin-
" cess, renouncing all the pleasures that nature and her rank
"afforded her, and uniting all her de^sires 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 deceaf?c of her konoared 8}>ouse, 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 mystorica of the
" death and bitter passion of our Sftviour. blessed woman !
** admirable lady ! sweet Elizabeth ! Most justly did
*^ this name, which signifies being filled with God, suit yon,
"since yen sc frequently satiated the poor creatures who are
" tite images and representatives of Qod, seeing that the? ar«
" the dear .raerabera of His divine Son.

" You have most justly merited to receive the bread ai

.^■^

)I<I8

LIFI OF ST. IlIZABCTR,

; i.

hiihv

" angels, since jon so often ministered to the angels and te^
" restrial messengers of the King of Hearen.

" O blessed and most noble widow ! more fmitfnl in
" grace, than daring jonr bononrable marriage you had brcn
"in children, you sought that strenj^h in virtue whid'
'* nature seems to deny to woman, and became a valiant war-
'' rior against the enemies of our salvation. You have con-
" qnered them with the buclcler of Faith, as the Apostle snys,
" with the armour of Justice, the sword of the Spirit and of
'* fervonr, the Helmet of salvation, and the Lance of perse"
'* veranco.

*' Thus most amiable did this dear Elizabeth render herself
•* to her immortal Spouse, always united to the Queen of ^ir-
" gins by the heartfelt aflFeetion she had for her service, and
" by the alliance of perfect conformity, following her exami)Ie
•' she bowed down her highness to the works of a most hum*
** ble servant ; thus did she also resemble her good patroness
" Elizabeth whose name she bore, and the venerable Zachary,
" by W8 Iking 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
*' Hiifl, in whom alone we should put all our trust, and who
*' has reserved for Himself the wonderful power of exaltinsf
" the innocent and tlie horible, 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'

«<

07 BUirOABT.

9«t

■ r f>sis ap J to console nn by a ^eat number of miracles, br
"virtue of which good Catholics are confirmed and in-
creased in Faith, in Hope, and in Charity, infidels art
"illumined and informed of the true way of sahation, and
"liardened 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
"tor her own sins, bat through an excess of charity for
"those of others, who hungered af^er justice, who led a
"most pure and innocent life, and who in the continual per-
"socution 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 eradicato, arising gloriously,
" and with unspeakable joy triumphu,- over their malice and
" impiety.

" These wonders liaving been attested before us, and
"supported by iueontestible proofs, with the advice of our
" brethren the venerable patriarchs, Archbishops and Bishops,
" and other prelates at our conrt assembled, according to the
'* duty of our office, which obligei ns to watch diligently ovef
*' all that tends to the greatc; glory of our Saviour, we have
" inscribed Elizabeth in the catalogue of the saints, and
** enjoin yon to cause her feast to be celebrated solemnly os
" the thirteenth day of the Kalends of December, being tha<
16*

I
I

LIFE 07 ST. UlItADITR,

*'on which she burst the foondn of death, and was ndmitttdl
" to the fonntain of anprenw delight« : that by hor iiiti << .
" sion we may obtain what she already obtained from Christ, {
** aiid which she wiH giorioosly enjoy for eternity. Anrl ali^o,
" to employ the power which it committed io us from ()i
** High to enable the universal faithful to taste of tlie>' d.^
"lights of the in visible court, and to eznlt the name of tli<>
" Almighty by causing Ilim to be honoured by the crmnds
"who will come to the venerated sepulchre of His si>ou?o,
" full of confidence in the mercy of the Omnipotent, liy {\w
"authority of the blessed Apostles Peter and PhuI, wc
" bounteously grant an indulgence of one year and forty days
" to all those pious men and women, who having wort)ii]y
" 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 admiin-
tion for the new saint in a still more special manner. In
seeking some one to whom he could address himself to iin-
burthc^u 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 "ith of June, the Pontiff directed to her a long epistk-,
wherein 1h3 praised the virtues of Elixabcth, and in MU|tp)>rt
of them quoted many scriptural texts. " During these pa^t
days," writes he, " there has been pres^ted to us, accordins*
to the expression of Jesus son of Sirach, an admirable vessel^
ili« work of tJi€ Most High, destined to serve as a ftumace of
charity by the ardour of its good works. This vessel <A

or BUHOAVV

ilectioi, oopieoiatod to the Lord, it no other thtm St ESim-
btUi, whose name int<rrpretedi signiflcis Satiety tf 0«d^ hecauft
»h<- oilea MUftfled God in the per»ORi of the po<jf and the

111-

'^ She DouYivhod the Lord with three loaves which she bof>
iow<^^ from her friend in the night of her trlbnlfttion — the*
bn-Hd of tmth, the bff«ad of chanty, and the bread of courage.

* * ♦ • ♦ Thia Elizabeth, »o great a lover of the eternal
felicity, served to the table of the Master of Heaven and
tarth three precious viands, in renouncing all He foil ids, in
obeying all He ordains, in accomplishing all He counsels,

• * ♦ • • Yes, she is truly one of whom it is written, an
admirable vessel^ the ijoorh of tht Most Bigk. — A vessel adrai«
rable by the virtue of her humility^ the lowliness of hur body,
the tenderness of her compassion, which shall be admired
throughout all ages 1 Oh v issel of election, vessel of mercy I
Tlion hast offered to the tyrants and to the great ones of this
world the wine of trne compunction! Behold, from amotigst
them, already one, thy brother Conrad, lately Landgrave,
still young and beloved by the world, whom thou hast so
inebriated with this sacred drink, that forsaking all dignities,
and renonncing all, even to his tonic, 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
irnl he has impressed upon his heart. Again, behold thy
Bister, 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 M«»st High t a new
wdiiderwhiehthe liOrd has wrought upon the earth, since Rt
KlizulHjth enshrined Jchiis (thrist in her heart slnee, by her
love, she conceived and brought Hlin to the world iit|ii iioar-
b^hed Him. The Devil, our enemy, raised two great walli t«

S78

LIFE OV ST. BLIZABKTfl.

bide from oar eyca the splendour of th« eternal Li^ht : thf«m;
arc, the ignorance of om* minds and the eoncupiscrefitc; of lii.ji
fle«h. But Si KlixalKith, tuking refuge in her humility, o\.r
threw the wall of ignorance, and levelled the bariers of j^nd^
•0 as to enjoy ihe inuccessihle Light ; she uprooted (.onrui.iv
cence from her soul, and perfectly detached her heart froin all
terrestrial affection, the more surely to gain the only true ami
divine Love.

" Already has she been Introduced by the Virg .i Mother
of God to the couch of her heavenly Spouse. She is hi. 8>( d
amongst all women, and crowned with a diadem of incflul^le
glory; an»? whilst the Church triumphant rejoices in her pro?.
ence, she glorifies the Church militant by the splendour of lier
miracles.

" Most dear daughter in Jesus Christ, we have wished t:
place before thee the example of St. Elizabeth, as a rnosi
precious pearl, for two reasons : first, that thou mayest often
look into it as into a spotless mirror, in order to discover
whether an} thing is hidden in thy conscience that could ofTcml
the cvfs >f tha divine Majesty; again, that nothing should be
wanted to tlsee 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 Gmi
thee adorned with all virtues and clothed with good works.

" Given at Perugia, the Tth 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 ordei
to give the Bisiiops and the faithful of Germany time to come

• i

or nCNOART.

87S

to Marburg to assist at tl»e ccreraony. Tlie first day of
May W118 that appointed for its celebration. On it« approach
ttii' little city of Marburg and its environs wore tlironjred by
RH immense concourse of people of all ranks ; if we are to be-
lieve contemporary historians, twelve hundred thousand Chri*-
*iuns, united by faith and fervour, assembled before the tomb
of the humble Elizabeth.

All nations and tongues were there repro8entc»d. Several
pilgrims of both sexes came from Franf from Bohemia and
from her native land, the distant T^ All united in

raying that for centmies no such cru on 8e»^u as thai

wliicli came to honour the dear Si, Eh

All the royal family of Thuringia were pn sent, the Dnchcsa
Sophia, her mother-in-law, with the Dukes Henery and Con-
rad, all anxious to expiate by this solemn homage the injuries
^vhieh she had so nobly forgiven them. Her four little children
were also there, with on inmense number of princes, nobles,
priests, religious and prelates. Amongst these were, besides
Sigefrid of Mayence, who presided at the ceremony, the Arch-
l»ishops of Cologne, Treves and Bremen ; the Bishops of Ham*
i)urg, Halberstadt, Merseburg, Bamberg, Worms, Spires
Paderborn and Hildesheira. The Emperor Frederic II., then
lit the height of his glory, reconciled with the Pope, lately
jiiarried to the young Isabella of Englanu so celebrated for hei
beauty, had suspended all his occupations and military expe
ditions, to yield to the attraction which led to Mf»rburg so
iiiany of his subjects, and he came there to do homage to her
» ho had lejected his hand to give herself to God.

The Teutonic knights having heard of the arrival cf the
Kinp<^ror, thought it would be impossible to dLsinter the body
of iho Saint in hia presence, ao they resolved to anticipate the
appointed time. Three days before that fixed, the Prior
lUric, accompanied by seven of the brethren, enteked the
U'iuich where she reposed, and after having carefully closed

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IIFI ev IV. ILIIABfTB,

all tbe doom, they proceeded to open the nuiH wberefn vtu
ber tomb.

Scarcelj bad tbe eoperiDg-itOBe been removed when n fie*
ligbtful perfume waa exhaled from her bleased remains ; the
Doaka were penetrated with admiration at this sign of the
divine mercj, for they knew that she bad been bnried with.
ont being embalmed, or having aromatics or perfumes of nny
Kind laid in her tomb. They found the holy body entire
Mritbout any appearance of corruption, though it had I>ef>n
nearly five years in the ground. The hands were stiH piously
loined in the form of a cross on her breast.

They said to each other that doabtleas thia delicate and
prceioas body suffered not the corruptioa of death, becauso
doring life she had never shrunk from any infection or stain,
ahen there was question of relieving the poor. They tool i(
then from its coffin, enveloped it in a rich drapery of purph?,
and laid it in a kaden case which they placed in the vault
without sbntting it down, so that no difficulty should be <'n<
countered in removing it on the day of the ceremony.

On the first of May, before daybreak, the muHitnde
assembled aroand the Church, and it was with difficulty that
tbe flmperor could make his way through them, so as to reach
the int6ri«>r of the building.

He seemed quite penetrated with de? otioit and humility ;
he was barefooted and clad in an old grej tome, such as that
tbe Saint he came to honour nsed to wear, but be had en the
i^nperial crown ; around him were the prinees and electors also
crowned, and the Bishops and abbots with thehr mitrea. Thia
pomfQus procession advanced to the tomb of Kiaabeth, and
it was then, saya a narrator, that was paid in glory and he-
noor to the dear lady tha price* of the snSerings and self-denial
she had endured in this world. The Empieror wished to be the
first who should descend to the vault and lift the stone. The
lame pure and exquisite perfume by wbiffb Uie religions had

•F BOVtAmT.

9^6

been eburffled and iarprf^ted, »f»in dkhaled Hflelf, did
fcTved to kicreine the pwlj of all who were pre^nU Tho
liishops wished to raise tlir body from its tomb, the Emperui
assisted thecn, and fervently knsod the oofiifi when they did
BO. The liwliQipft' seab w«re immediately affixed to it, and il
wM then solemnly ouried by them and the Emperor with
the «oand of mvieal Intmroeiitfl and hymns of trfomph to the
place prepared for iti reception. The hearts of the thoofAudi
who Burronnded the Sttnotaary burned with a fervent Impa-
tience while expecting the coming of the holy relics, whi^h
they were anxiouB to look npou, to touch, and to kiss nvie-
reotly. " O fanppy hind,'' cried they, " sanctified by snch a
trost I Ooardidn of snch a treasure ! blessed time in which
this treasnre is revealed to dsP When the procession en-
tered throogfa the ranks of the people, when they saw the
coffin bdfne on the shotlders of the Emperor, of the princes
and prelates, when tHey breathed the sweet odoar that ek-
haled from it, their enthnsmsm became bonmfless. " O hghl,
bnt most sacred body,* cried they, " what weight hare yon
with the Lord, whiit power to snecoor men t Who would
not be drawn to ygn by this fragrant petfhme, who would
not run after the brtihant tiasietity and martellons beauty of
tiiee, O hdy woman ? Let the heretics tremble, and the
(terfidions Jews be afraid. The faith of EHzabeth has con-
fuunded them. Behold her who was called a fool, and whosf.
folly bias trinmphed orer this world's wisdom 1 firen the
angels hare bonohred the tomb ; and now, behold til the
peopfee gathermg aronnd it, the nobles and the Roman Empe-
ror come to Fisit it. O the wonderful raerciy of the dithie
majesty! Behold her who dnring her life despised the gtory
of the worM, asd shodued the society of Ihe great, now h^
nonred lia^ifieentlf by the Pope and the Emperor I 8hk
who elwsys took the iowest place, who eat upon the ground,
i^bo slept in the dust, is now exalted, lifted up l»y rigitt

sre

LirS or ST. BLIIADSTH,

; i I i ,

rojal hands t And justly so, for she became i«6vir anri <ioM
all she possessed to purciiase the priceless per^l of ctrnml
bliss."

The sacred bodj having been exposed to the Tsneration of
the faithful, the Office was solemnly celebrated in her honour,
the proper Mass of the Saint was chaunted by the Aicblnslio))
of Mayence. At the Offertory the Emperor approached the
shrine, and placed on the head of the dear Tjlizabith :i
golden crown, saying : "Since in thy lifetime thoa wouldst
not be crowned as my empress, I wish at Icist to crown
thee to^ay as an immortal Queen in the Kingdom of Goil.'^

He also gave a magnificent gold cnp in which he ascd to
be served at banquets, and then led to the offering the youni,'
Hermann, son of t>e Saint ; the Empress conducting thitliei
the little princesses, the two Sophias and Qertrode.

The Old Duchess Sophia, with her tw ) sons Henry and
Conrad, also approached the glorified rei lains of her whom
they had so long slighted, they remained a considerable tirae
in prayer, and made rich presents in her honour.

Tlie nobility and the people thronged around the sbrinc to
say prayers and to make their offerings.

The inhabitants of each country insisted upon sing^ the
canticles of the Office in their own languages, which prot ..ted
.the ceremonies for an immense time.

Nothing could exceed the richness and ab<\ndance 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 chalides, missals, and sacerdotal requisites for the
stately and beautiful Church, which they insisted should be
immediately erected in her honour, " that sihe might rest there
in a manner befitting her great sanctity, and that her soul
might be more disposed to Invoke God's mercies for bci
brethren."

I*. ' ■

OW BUltaART,

877

But 80011 a new wonder was perceived whkJi still more in
ereosed the reneration of the faithful, and demonstrated the
solicitude of the Lord for the glory of His Holjr One. The
next morning, when the coffin containing the sacred bodj,
and to which had been aflEbLed the seals of the Bishops, was
opened, they found it full of a pure and delicate oil which
^'ave forth a perfume like to that of the most precious spik^
nard. This oil flowed drop by drop from the relics of tha
Saint, like the bounteous dew of HeaTen ; and when they
collected or wiped these drops away, there came others,
almost imperceptibly, and forming a kind of ?apoury e£ha>
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 understood at once, with the penetration conferred by
Faith, the symbolic and mystic meaning of this phenomenon.
" wonderful miracle," said they, " worthy of her and ro'
sponsive to our prayers ! These limbs, which were worn by
so many saintly mortifications, exh<kle a perfume like to thai
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. Tliis oil flows
principally from her feet, becaose 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, bow
many languishing souls has she not healed by her charity and
the example of her sanctity ! How many thousand poor onei
kos she not supported wit^ her own bread I By how maB|

X7S>

Liri Of tf. ILIB'ABSTR,

-if

prodigies has she not iUamined the Cbareh ! It is then w':,i
leason that this sweet liquid, this odorlferoos oil apiMsirs to
|)fioc1aia tlte sanctity of her who shone with so pufe a Rpi< u-
dour, wlo healed with so ranch sweetness, who fed the po.r
with so much geoerositf, and who throngh her whuie lif**
eshaled the rich and (Wtgrant perAime of all vhrtiies V*

This precioui oil was gathered with great care and zeal liy
the people, aiid manj cures were effected by its use in serious
niAladies and dangerous woands. ^ many celestial favoui -^i,
confirmed by the sapreme snQrage of the Ohorch, and tiie
honours which it had so- solenoly decreed to the new Saint,
could not but increase the number and favour of tJle faithful
who visited her tomb, cither to augment thttr 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 Couipos-
teQa.

Numerous miracles were worked in fitrOur of the humble
and fiiithful pilgrims who made so long and »o weary a jour-
n^. 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 propagjatod and
CQiSrmed even in the most distant countries.

It was but natural that veneration for BUsabeth shovld be
speedily establislied in Hnugary, the. hind of her births and
thfrt the history of her holy life, and the news of her cauoiit-
Eation should have excited the most extraoiilinary feelings of
joy and admiratioa in that country to which she specially be-
longed. Now there was at Strigonia„ in Hungary, an honest
mid pious couple» whose only child had just died. The father
^gi^ mother were grievously aflBicfted by this loss. After
hh>iDg groaned and wept for a long time they retired to reiitk

or HVHQAUr.

tTf

but itill GOiild not ceue upeiikmg of their lUlle bne. The mo-
tiiei slumbered for • while, end had e dream which inspired
her to take at oooe the body of ber deceaiied chHd to the tomb
ot' St. Blimb^th, itt Qennanj. Having awoke, she placed
her trust in lAie Lori ftnd said to her hmbaad : '* Let qi not
bury cor littlfc giri, bat let vs take her with Arith to Saint
Kliiabeth, whtMi tke Lord has glorified bj many miracles, in
order that "by ber phiyera oor child's life may be reatorML''
'ilie htuband yielded to H^b wighes of his wift.

At an earl^ boar next laoming, when the fHendi wer6
waiting to acjsottipany the body to the chorcb, in order to
haviB M ititMnred, they were amaaed to see the father and
mother laying ft ia It basket aad setting out for the sanctnaty
of EiifiSibetb, beedteas of the mnrmort aad derision by which
tliie^ were assailed. They travelled for thirty days, weeping,
and enduring great pri^wtioo ; but, at the end of that time,
Qod had pity on their liiitii alid grief, and regarding the
merits lof HiBidefR' Etotbeth, He sent back the innocent soul
of the obild to ibe Inanimate body wbtoh rwas offered to Hi^
with anch simple conideme, and testored the little one to life.
Notwithstanding their excessive joy, tlie piotis patents resolved
upon completing their pilgrimage %o the tonftb of Efiaabeth ;
(hey bi'ooght their veenseitaited child to Marbaiig, and afiir
nuftking their thanksgiving there, they retamed to Hangary
to enjoy tJMir miraouloQs hap^nness. Tl&is same young girl,
in trfker years, accompanied into Germany a daughter of the
king of Hnngscry ivho was given in marriage lo the Dnke of
BHvnria; when she oatne to Ratisbon with her ^yal mistress,
tfhe tliete entered ia Convent of Dominicans, over whom she
became Prioreas, aad was stUl living in great sanctity when
I'heodoiio wrote his history.

At th« otbe¥ i^xOrenity of Europe, in Btojg^and, there waa
at this titte « iiM>l6 9ady Who had no children, and who, aftMr
liTi^g with betr httiband %t twenty years, «aw iiim die, to li«

Hi *

"W3

880

LIFE or IT. lUEABITR,

great gfiet In her widowhood and loneliness she cot olT ))>r
hair, assumed a plain, gray dress, and songht some flo1n( <• hv
adopting twelve poor creatures as her children. Th'sp vi,..
lodged in her own house; she nourished and clothed, an I
with her own hands washed and served them. Wherever sli(>
found poor or sick people, she g^ve them alms for the love of
God and of St. Elizabeth ; for she had heard of Elizalxil.,
and had learned to love her better than anything in this
world, and more than all the otfier saints of God. Tho
thooght 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. ITor
fKends 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 tlie 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 r( plied,
" 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 such bliss for
eternity.*'

For three centuries, surrounded by a. halo of glory, and
receiving daily homage and thanksgiving for so many bles&
ings, the body of Elizabeth remained in her magnificent

OV BWOABT.

*harch in the enitody of the Teatonic kiilghta, who alwayt
vore the badge of the cron 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
hi* Epijcopal city, aud laid on an altar in his cathedral.
Neither history nor tradition infbnns os of the motives that
influenced the faithful of Qerraany to deprive themselves of
this precious treasure in favour of a distant diocese. But can
»'e not discover in it a mysterious dispensation of Providence,
which permitted that this pare and tender heart should await
bt Cambray another worthy of her, by its humility, charity,
and ardent love of Qod — the heart of Fenelon f

The Yeneration 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 Qod.

Her festival day was, according to the directions of the 6ov«
ereign Pontiff, obnerved throughout all the Church, and in somo
localities with snrpassing pomp and splendour. The diocese of
Uildesboim waa distinguished for the solemnity with which this
holy feast was celebrated, and for the harmonv <€ the chauiit
wliich 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 iudulgence 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 tftf
quarantines to all the faithful, who, penitent and confessed,
should visit the churches of the order of St Fraicis, in Saint
Elizabeth's honour on her festival-day. ^

I.IfB ^9 AT. mi.U

»r Ob Um imm dtj tMj \m gtined ittdolgeiiOM of one hundred
dBj« in two of the Mfon BaaUicM of iht Bteroftl City, Ilome.i
▼Ib. Bt '* SboU Grooe di QBrmBlamma,'' Bud Bt " SaoU Maritl
detrli AugeU."

The rick inipirBtiona of th% LitBrgy, tho trae Christian |
poetry, were bIbo devoted to oor dear BBint.

ProsBB, bymns, ond onneroBi BotheBM, wore oomposcU and
gOBdraUy Hoed io her hoBOor.

The religiouB Orders, pBrtioidBrly the FrBodscaQ, Domini*
CAB, Otaterdan, aad PremoDttrBteoBiaB, each couBecrated to
Ver a special Office.

These effosioas of tho faith and gratitodo of generations,
ooBteBiporaries of to glory, poeieieed all the charms of
BimpUoity, graoBi and tobder piety, which Usttngoishcd the
Bocient UturgieB, Bsany of which are now unhappily forgotten-
and thus were ooocentrated on this EUsabeth, whom we hare
Been bo fall of kwuiity and eontempt for Bell^ all the brilliant
hoBoura, the InefWble rewards, the MirivaUfld glories, which
Holy Church has created aod reaenFed for her Saints.

Yes» lire asay aay it without fear--6aiatB of God, what glo^
is Uka unto yooral what humnn memory is cherished, pre-
eervedi consecrated as youssl what popolarity can be com-
paled to thai which yon eajoy in the baaits of all Cbriiitian
people!

Had yon soBgfat after liaman glory, tbe eodlompt for which
is one of tho noblelt features in yoor lives, ywar greatest
ofibrts could nearer Bittain to that which yoB have acquired by
trampling it ander foot 1 Conquerors, legislators, geniuses,
are forgotten, or are but honoured at oocasiooal moments by
•the iracillatiDg feelings of men ; most of them are disregarded
'Or anknown. On the contrary, you, blessed children of the
earth yon have sanctified, of ihe Heavea you o^y, are
known and lo?ed hj all Christians ; for ev«ry Christian has
ehoBcn at least one from amongst yon, to be his friend, hia

I ..

Oil a9««4ftT«

Ltion, the confidant of bii heftrt-tbooghts, the depoeitoiy of
kit timid hopes, the protector of hii beppineM, the conioler
lif Ilia MMlneei t

Associated with the eternal duration of the CbmriRh, yot
lire, like her, impasiable and ■ocbmgeahle in your glory.
At least once, erery year, the sun rises under your iufocation,
and thousands of Obristians are eongratubited, be<aose tbef
I have the happiness to bear your name^ and tbia blessed name
I is commemorated, chaunted, proclaimed aloud in erery sano-
taary of Faith by thousands of innocent and pure souls ; by
tbe Toices of spotless virgins; by those of th« hecoioas of
divine charity, by those of Levites and priests, by the whole
sacerdotal hierarchy, from the SoTeielgn PtailUf to< tbe lowest
recluse in bis eell, who together tbusi reply to syii4 tB*eebo tb«
concerts of the angels in Heavea.

Once again, O Saints of Ood I what i^JsyiawaapMibh
to yoar glory during time aad eftenitf 1

l^i

til

CHAPTER XXXIII

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BPBVNO VBOM BBB BAOB.

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llUna; qaonlam •% apud D«uin noU «^ •! apii<t homlnaik ... in prrpctinin
MraoAUtrlumphat loootoqaliMloroia oarUoilnaoi pnomlooi vlooaoAi**— <fa/>. Iv. 1, t

' Wb will doobiless be forgiven for inserting here an
abridged aocoant of ttie destinies of the children of the di^ur
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 most first notice her father, king Andrew.
From the time he heard of his daughter's death, he fell into
a deep melaocholy, principally produced by the ideas that ho
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 sane*
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
inr 1238, two years after having assisted at the solemn trans-
lation of the remains of her whose high destiny she had bo
long misunderstood : she was, by her own desire, interred ut
the convent of St. Catherine, at Eisenach, which her husband,
Puke Hermann, had founded.

The most fervent of the admirers and champions of tiie
Baint, her brother-in-law, Conrad, did not long survive the
ample reparation he made for the wrongs he had done her.

■I '

OF MVHOABr

Bit pietj, 9onng% ftod gre»l btimUit}*, nvulo him b« choMo
iiH Grand Mwter of the Teutonic Order which he hml oin*
traced in the ^irit of penance. Ho const^crnted a great part
of h\% wealth to the erection of tlio diurch which bear/. iJio
1 1 Mine of ElnabeUi at Marburg, of which he hud the glory cf
tioing the founder. It waa douUJoai to l>e eiuibivd to WHtoh
over and eipedite tbia great undertaking, or, perhapa, through
Aliei^on for the placet aaoctified by hia bW^aed aiatcr, that lie
cluMii Marburg aa the centre and reiidence of tlie Order ol
uhioh ki wtt the head, and buiH there the pulace called
the OomnuMiderj, the mint of which are aiill to be eeen.
Hie prolOoged viaitt to HesM did not hinder him from pretid-
ing OTO^ the new developneni which the Teutonic knightt
exhibited in Pn»ala, when the Dnke of Matovbi called apon
then to aacoonr the Chrittiaiis Against the Pngana. Conrad
(ought with hniTcry and skill ; he extended the potsemiont
of bit Ordcp^he obtained from tlie Pope the infettiture of
the profince tlmt was^to be the theatre of its greatest gh>ry.
Bat before the dote of hit life, he wat anxious to re-vitit
Rome. After arriving there be fell terkmfdy ill. During hit
malady, he attaioSd to tacb a degree of interior purity, that
be coold not, withoot great pain e?en of body, eiidare tho
orestnco of any one who was m the ttate of mortal sin, aa
that those who were m hit serrice were obliged to abstain
from all etil. Ha bad for confetsor, the ?enerable abbot of
Hag«o, of the Order of Oileaox.

One' day when tbli boly Bfeiigk>oi came to tha Landgraye^
bedside, he peratired him absorbed in a ttate of ecitaay.
Wlien he wat restored, the abbot asked htm what he had seen
in the rision. Conrad replied : " I was before the throne off
the eternal Judge, and my destiny was teTerely examined.
Jmtioe ordained that I tbookl bo condemned to the paim
of pargatory for fiTe yeart ; but ray good taster Elixabetb
•p pwath e d the tribaaal, and obtained the roaaitiion of tbit

•i

Liri OF ST. ILIIABBTS,

I !!

laffcn'ng. Know then that I shall die of this illness, and tlmt
I shall enjoy eternal glory."

He died soon after, having prcvionsly given directions th»i
his body should be brought to Morburg to repose near tluit
of the Saint in the chnrch he had commenced in her hoiionr
His tomb is still to be seen there, and on it he is representrd
as piously sleeping in the Lord, holding in his hand the diH-
cipiine, as he had presented it to the people to strike him on
the ruins of Fritzlar.

If Conrad so completely atoned for his sins against God
and St. Elizabeth, his brother, Henry Baxpon, acted in a very
different manner, and his name is painfully intermingled with
the Htcs 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, Son or Daughter of St. Eliza-
beth, before all their titles of sovereignty or nobility

Two of them, the younger children, Sopfiia and Gertrude,
accomplished their days in peace in the asylums she had
chosen for them amongsj; 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 hj
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 celebiHte
her feast Her tomb is still to be seen at Aldenberg, as well
•a several precious relics of her blessed mother which sh« had
collected there with pious cai^e. Amongst these are a ob«Mi

OF BUHOART.

881

ble, made of red ▼elvct from a robe of St. Elizabeth ; a uWer
fi^ilt cap, in which she served the poor in her hospital with
lirink ; her wedding ring ; and some other memorials, most
of which are now in the castle of Braunfels and in the posset-
Hion of the prince of Solms.

The other two children of Elizabeth, her son Hermann, and
tier daughter Sophia, experienced a yery 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
bad governed during his minonty. He soon after travelled
to France to visit the holy King Loais 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 bor;i ; 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
(lead persons. So he had his body conveyed to Beynharts-
brunn, where bis sepulchral monument is still to be seen near
that of his father.

Henry Raspon^ now sole roaster of and lawful heir to the
vast possessions of the house of Thuringia, soon became th«
fshief of the opposition party, which increased every day in
Qemauy, snd which was excited by the attacks made by tht

-.1

0ild*^

LlWm or 0V. BLIIAVBTH,

Ehiperor Frederio IT. against the independenea of the lesmtt
prineea and the rights of the Church. Pope Innocent IV.
having falmlnated the sentence of deposition against Frcderio
at the Council of Lyons, the Dake of Thnringla was naturoli?
put forward in the ranks to supply his plaoe. Though it was
thoQght that the imperial crown was the object of his ambi-
^rni, yet he always alleged unfitness for that great dignity
The Pope exhorted him to derote himself to the welfare of
Christianity and sent him considerable eabsidles. He allowed
himself to be elected King of the Romans in 1246, and was
anointed in the following year. He made war with tolera-
ble success against Frederic and his son Conrad, but he did
not long enjoy his new dignity. In 1948 death carried hini
off, and though he had been married three timet, he left no
children. Ttie Christian people saw in the extinction of his
race the just chastisement of his perfidy to ETizabeth, 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 explatiou 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 Louts, married, as we have seen,
to the Duke of Brabant, presented herself to take possession
•f ihe inheritance of her father, in her own name and in that
of her son Henry, sr-named the Infiml from being then but
Ifaree years old.

She was immediately acknowledged in Hesse, whieh pro-
fince she goTcrned with gp^at wisdom and courage chiriug
the long minority of her son.

But in Thuringia she found a formidable rival in thepersoa
6f her consio^rman, Henry the Illustrwui^ Maijgr«reof

•f ■fJK#ABTi

IIMa, wum tf Oota, titter of Dake Lomt aad King H«nry.
Thit prince, profiting of the *\r idoa» wkicli had trisen m
Tburingift after the doatk of ; laiy, aa wdl aa of tkoat hf
which Um wholo «mpirt W|« coovultod, tvcteadtd in oUtaining
pottattion of a great part ol Tburingia, and abora all, of tbo
oaatla of Wartbtrg. There waa no loagev aa emperor ro*
cognised to do justice in the holy Roman empire siacf the do»
cline of the Hovae of Svabia. Sophia obtained the •asiatanco
of a taliafti and devoted prince, Albert Duke of Bruoiwiek*
whose daughter vasaffianced to the jonng Henry of Biabantb
Bat in despite of the efforts of thift ally, and of thecoiirogtt
vjth wbiok SpphiA always took part in hii warlike expedi-
tions, tht MiMTgrave Henry ret<uned possession of his usurpeil'
pow«r. We shftU not eptcr into tb« details of this fcarfnl
itruggK but shall confine porselves to the nacratioii of a (ew
particulars wM^h serve to depict Sophia's character,, and tp
show how t)^e faithful people sorronnded the reipembranco^
of the dcMT Saint's descendants with the bfdo of poesy in thei^
tra4itiQns, Tbos, it is said, that i^ the first conference whio|i
took place between Sophia fU)d the Mar^prave, the If^tter wflfi
disposed to listen to bi^ cQusiu ; whilst be spoke tp he^, hii
nuarshal, the Jjord de Schlottbeim, took him aside and said ;
" M7 Lord, what are yon about to do ? If it were pos^iblf
that you could havetooe foot in Heayei) anci the other in Wart-
burg, you should withdraw that which was in Heaven the
better to retain Waitburg.** Henry allowed himself to be
influenced by this, i^nd s^id to the Dpchess, " Dear cousin, I
must reflect on these matters, and consult my peers.^ Then
Sophia burst into tears, and thrQwing her glove from off her
right hand, she said, "O enemy of all justice, I say to thee,
Sf^tan, that I throw thee my gauntlet, take it, und with it all
crafty and perfidious counsellors.^ The glove erose in tbe imt
and disappeared, and very soon fifter tbe evQ couu^eUpr fell ill
aid died.

-i

•90

Liri PW 6Tc B1.IKAVCTB,

i liK

f *

Later still in 1254, in another conference, Sophia despair
iDg of being able to convince her rival by reason, or of subli
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 ^^•J
much honoured Thuringia, that he thought her claims to tho
oountry 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^ot
Sophia, as if they wished to expiate their former ingratitude to
Elizabeth by devotion to her child. They even besieged Wart-
burg, where tho Margrave's forces were garrisoned, and erected
two forts the better to attack the castle. But Henry surprised
tihe town by night and got possession of it by treachery. He
pnt to death the principal friends of the daughter and grandson
of Elizabeth. To terrify the inhabitants, he fastened Welspecbe,
the most earnest supporter of their cause, to a war-machiDe,
and had the barbarity to order that he should be thus flung
from the summit of Wartbui^ 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 wbidi
mm visible for two centuries after.

or BuvoiRr.

In 1265, Dnke Albert of Brnnswlck, having been com*
plctely defeated and taken prisoner by the son of the Margrave,
\t became necessary to enter into a definite arrangement. So-
phia was obliged to renoonce all her pretensions toThnringia,
which remained thenceforth in the possession of the House of
Misnia ; in satisfaction, however, the sovereignty of Hease
was guaranteed to her son, Henry the In/an i, and his pos-
terity. This division of the provinces has continaed to our
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 raintained the prosperity of her
country and of her family.

She reposes t^t Marbnrg, 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 eeen then ;
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 In/ant, son of Sophia and gracd-
ion of St. Elizabeth, and first sovereign of Hesse as an laor
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 hiro
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 descendanta of

IIPI or •!« »LISABKTB,

;' u

I i

ii-t

St Elizibeth, w* mj bt ptnnitled to apAoil oT fte finnn;
from which the sproni^ io which fi«r« nnmbMod naiiy hol|
personages, apon whom the eiMople of o«r deor Baint most
befe hod coii8ider«bIe inlbieDce. In the matefiMiI Use, her
annt, St Hedwige, Dochess of Poland and Silesia, enrriTod
her { we hare ahread/ seen that the pioos example of this re-
nowned princess had affected Elizabeth in her tender age, and
we maj be permitted to think that the Dnebeti Hedwige woi
Rtrengthened in her fervour sad austerity, bj what she was
enabled to icam of the life of her yooag nieoe, and by tho
wlemn proclamation of her blessed immortality in Henven and
on earth. It appears as if Hedwige sotq^ht more rapidly to
fbllow the youthful pilot to the happy port where both were to
fund so gloriously. At the death of Bliiabeth she had been
sent a veil worn by our Saint ; Hedwige tnisrtoined for this
relic the ipreatest veneration, and would never leate it off
until she had breathed her last sigh, and oertainly no one
m^i'ited better this symbolic gift

Married at the age of twelve years to Duke Heivy the
Bearded^ tS\jst having borne him six children, when still very
f onng, she with her husband made a vow to live thenceforth
•s i>roiher and sister. She resolted to found a great monas-
tery for Cistercian nuns near a place where her husband had
fallen into a mArsh, wh** ce he was delivered by an angel,
teis monastery was called ^bnitz, because when the Duke
Inquired of the new religious, whether th^y were well supplied,
ihey re)^:ied that they wanted not for aqy thing — ^in Polish,
Trzeha nie, JSedwige had her daughter Oertrude appointed
abbess of th(s house, whither she soon retired herself and with
her husbaad's permissbn took the religious habit, but neither
the vow of obedience) nor of poverty, that ahe might not be
restricted in alms-|[iving.

During her entire life she rivalled tier holy niece b|y her
iMmilitj and extraordinary mortifications i in reading 9f the

OV flUVOAIff

aloioft incirediU« amterilief ihe joiktoA on htr fr»H tedf , m
luiow not which to •dmin iiott, tha indmiitiblo itraigtli of
iwr vtill, or Hm noooor gnmtod bjr the Lani (o ofttvrt wImb
4i itcifM to rite abofo tt« oira $biienio«t to Mctad W Hiii.
S»e^whei« she ioogbt the Ww9#t plao^, foeing pBnetn4e<l
irith tho q^ji th»t «Mre<| tho GftoaoiMi wooMto, irheo 8ho
bogged froni Jow* the cramhis th»t feU (row the tablet of tho
ehildrea of Qod ( thai Hedwige xooght 119 other food thM
that left ftt the tables of naas and moaks whom she delighted
to senre. Bat it was particularly by her Qbaritj and coinpaa>
iion that she riyalled oar dear SUsabetb.

" She hadf'' sajs a pipus writer, " so tender a heart that
she could not see any one weep withoat shedding team
in abundance, nor take repose when she knew that others eo-
dored 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 an-
observed she would kiss their fioot-prhits, honouring in them
Jesus Christ, who being the Kipg of |^lory became poor fbr
oar sakes. So tenderly did she lore the poor that she oflett
bought from them pieces of bread which the religions gave
them as alms, and these she kissed and ate as if they were the
bread of angels, and a sacred food. Amongst ^e poor there
were thii-teen of those who suffered most whom she selected to
remind her of Christ and Ilis apostles ; these she brooght
with her whereyer riie went \ had them well lodged and
dothed, and always wished that they should dine before her,
that she might serre them herself. She always sent them
■ome of the best food set beftro her, for she was so diaritaMe,
ttat rfie wonld not eat the least tMng, even if it were hot a
pear, with any satisfaction if the poor had not prerioasly
tasted of H.*"

Sktwoold ncfer peniU her vassals and aerfet^ba treated
hairidj irtien anaftili fa pay ^ir fanfrtenta and doaa; Aa

0^m'

LirS OF STa KLISABITH,

- , I

inoeiSAntlj vitited the tribanals where the Uw-tuito of the pooi
were decided, and when she found the judges inclined to treat
them with aeveritj, she would empower the chaplain, by whom
■he was always accompanied in these visits, to rererse the sen-
lencm. Her husband entertained for her the utmost love aiicl
t«i;iect| and frequently gnve proofs of how much he synipa-
thiticd in her compassion for the poor ; for instance, tlirougli
affection for her, he ordered that whenever Hedwige passed tlio
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 preeminently devoted to the holy Virgin, and alwayn re-
tained a little picture of that benign mother, to which ir* 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 sxultiug in his victory : when he perceived her he thought
it was an angel, and without the least resistance, he agreed to
ter.ns 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 ineffinble joy : " Welcome, demi Sain^t, and

I; !

or HUNOAtT.

good friendu, Magdalene, Catherine, Thecia, Unula, ami all 50Q
who have come to me.** Then they spoke in Latin, but the lay
oater did not understand what they said. On the 15th of Oo*
lober following, she breathed her last sigh in blessing God.

Numerous miracles having attested her sanctity, she was
Muionized by Pope Clement IV. in 1267. When the solemn
banslation of her relics took place in the following year, the
officiants found her hand clasped on the little image of tha
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
otfects, if not mere precious, at least more numerous, on tho
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.

Beta IV., brother of our dear Elizabeth, and successor to kit
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 yeant,
almost all of which was a strnggle against the victorious Tartars.
Induced by the example of his sister he joined the Third Order of
St Francis, 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
been still more charmed by the odour of perfection, which
was, as it were, exhaled by the holy life of his sister. Having
espoused a Polish princess of 9urpassing beauty, Salome,
Janghter of the duke of Cracovia, who had been affianced
and brought up with him from the age of three yean, he
made with her, on their marriage day a vow of perpotnal

IIPI 9W ST. PLrSABBTII,

li!

ellMtitj, which Umj prowrved with iho otiiKat tUhWij
Itleotcd king of Oallicia, ht defended that part cf Poland
agaittst the l^lrtar8, aod died glorioualj oombattlng apraiust
them, (br his coantrj and his Qod. His widour founded a
conTent of Franciaoan Friara, and another of Poor Clares, in
the latter of Which she took the reil, where she exercised Uie
nioflt heroic Yirtaes, and was honoured bj the most partlculur
fiivours of the dirioe mercy.

On the day of her death in 1268, the attendants heard in
the o|r a sweet chorus of barmoaious voices chaunting theso
words : Fronduii^ fiurnU virgula Aaron. A nan remaricin^
that her countenance wore a most joyful expression, and that
she smiled frequently, said to her, " Madam, do yon 8co
anything so pleading as to make yon smile in the midst of
Buffering V* " Oh ^es," replied the blessed one, " 1 see onr
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 danghters of Bcia IT. and consequently nieces of
.]inizat)eth, so closely related by their sex to lier who was the
honour of their family, strove also to imitate her by the auster
hy and sanctity of their lives.

One of them, known to the Church under thd name of the
Blessed Margaret of Hungary, was incessantly occupied in
considering the example l6ft her by her glorious atint, 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 Otmstantinople, as a propitiatory offering to
obtain from Heaven some alleviation of the miseiies inflicted
by the Tartars on the Hungarians, her birth was signalized
by a brilliant victory over the infidels, as if God had thui
wished to tAstify His acceptance of the sacrifice. Her pioUii
parents, faithful to their promise, sent her at the a|p( ol

or auiioABT.

$91

tbroe jthn aod a hnlf to a convent of Dominicans. Oifttid

vith a vast iDtelligenoe and a sool mott ardent, the took tlM

veil at the age of twelve yean, tboagli her angelic beauty and

royal birth earned her to be sought after in marriage by se*

veral powrrful princes ; she remained, however, in her convent

for the rest of her life, which was for aboat twenty-four years.

This time, apparently so short, was entirely employed by her

in works of charity, of fervent piety, of extreme ansterity, in

a word, of all that coild develop, in her heart, and even in

her exterior, the pare 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 coald never mention the name of

the holy Virgin without adding, Mother <y God and my Hope

At the age of fonr years she, for the first tiioe^ 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 Orucifix 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 p4X>r

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 Hungarian

people used to say, as a kind of proverb, *^ It is easily seen that

tluR was ii(rt done after the manner of sister HlHigor^;!** She

wns but twenty-eight years old when God ealled her from Iter

tainily, her oouMry, and the Order which was so jwtly proud

At' her, to take her place by the side of the gkiriotts filiiabatk

ia BewvMi.

^ii'

LIFI Of ST. ILIXABITH,

! IK

! I:

Her sitter Coneg^nda, or Ringed, married In 1930 t«
Boleslaui the Baifi/ul, Dake of Poland, engaged her hushnnd
to make with her a solemn tow of chastity, which they oW
lerTed during forty years of married life. When she becuine a
widow in 1279, at the same time with her sister Yolande,
who was married also to a Bolesians, Duke of Kalitz in To-
land, both resolved to take the veil, and to that effect, entered
as did their aunt Salome, into the Order of Poor Clares, whicli
appears to have offered such irresistible attractions to the prin-
cesses of that age. Cunegnnda died In 1292, after having
given an example of the greatest austerity, and haTing re-
ceived from Heaven the gift of miracles. She has alwajft
been regarded in Poland as a Saint and the Patroness of the
country. Her tomb has been an object of the Teneration of
ail the Sclavouian 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. Glare. More than three
centuries after her death the devotion towards her was so far
from haf ing declined or chilled, that Stgismu^id, 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 80 long a time proclaimed as their tutelary Saint. In
1690, Alexa*^der VIII. approved of the public yeneration
paid to her, and later still, Clement IX. recognised her
solemnly as Patroness of Poland and Lithuania.

It seemed as if the House of Hungar) had been in a mm
ner destined to rear up for Heaven saintly princesses of liin
blessed race, toarried, as was our Elizabeth, to the Sovereigns
«f distant cou^trits, and some of whom, if they themselves
did not shine with speual glory, were at least worthy of being
the mothers of SstiutSo

Tbua Yolande, sister of Elu. Icth, wai married to tht kin|

' i

or BUWaABT.

nvf

tf Amgonf Jatnen the Comqutror^ And was granf) mother to St
Rlizabetb of PortngHl ; and Contitance, ti^ttT of King Andruw
waa mother of ...lat Agnea of Bohemia, whoae niagnifici'iit cu*
(og'ium by the Sovereign Pontiff we linve al ady rvm', Aflor
having refuted tlie hand of the King u(' Rnglu I ^ho King uf
ihe Roman*, and the Emperor Frederic 11^ even at the ri >k ot
exposing her country to the scourge of war, after having
passed forty-six years in her monastery, cinctured \v'h tho
cord of St. Fm <oi% nnd after having walked barefooted m tho
paths of Si. (jiai*. fuid St. Elisabeth, in the most exeinji try
practir*e of h) 'lility, of poverty, and of charity, Agnes died iL
i'28*',, .' nd has 4ver since been venerated in Bohemia and
Oerniatiy as a Saint, even though the Holy Bee did not
accede to the petition made for her canonization by the Em-
peror Charlen 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 Sicity,
r.he seemed as if predestined for heavenly glory by the name
which was given her, for contrary to the then existing cnstom
in Spain of calling princesses after their mothers or g^nd-
mothers, she was named Elizabeth after the dear Saint who was
her father's maternal aunt. She was married at the age of
fifteen years, to Denis, king of Portugal ; but far from finding
as di<l her holy patron^s a spouse worthy of her, she was for
h ioiig time aflQicted by his bad treatment and grieved by his
irfidelity.

Yet this made her but more earnest in fulfilling her duties
as a wife ; she soujfhc to reform the king by increased affection
and analterable patience.

When her ladies reproached her with treating bis fanlts too
toniently, she woM reply : '* If the king «ins, am I to U

«00

LIFX OT ST. tLISABITIf,

patience, and thos add mj transgressions to bis ? I love better
lo confide my sorrows to God and His holy Saints, and to
. itriTe to win back my hnsband by gentleness.^ She carried
indulgence and resignation to such a degree, as even to Kiuile
upon the king's mistresses, and to bring op bis natural chil-
dren with her own, with great solicitude for their present uud
Ihture welfare.

The eldest of the king's l^itimate children, indignant at
his father's conduct, rerolted against him. Denis persisted
in accnsing Eiizai)eth 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 sj^e deliyered from
this nnjust captirity, than she directed all her energies to effect
a reconciliation between her hasband 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
'Oj 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
^e solicitation of tlie 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 et patriae makr,"

Her husband having fallen dangerously ill, she tended hira
with the most affectionate care and received his last sigh.
Immediately after she assumed the habit of the Third Order
of St. Frauds, which for many years she had kept enclosed
in a casket, and which from the first day of her widowhood

PW aUKaARV.

locame 1 er onl} costume. She made a pilgrimage to Com*
postella for the eternal rei)ose of the soul of her husband, and
offered for that intention the crown of precious stones which
i)ie had worn on her wedding-day.

She passed the remainder of her life ia the practice of all
firtaes, rivalling her holy Patroness in charity, austerity, and >
it the faithful observance of all the ceremonies of the Church.
She lovod to listen to the solemo ofl&ces and the eeclesiastical
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
he recognised by the people, nor ej^KMed tc their veneration.
In 1336, her son, the *king of Portugal, having): declared wai
against her son-in-law, the king of Castile, she resolved, des-
pite of her great age, to employ her remaining strength in
walkuig for seven days to effect a reconciliation between tbcm
She acliievad this last victoiy, bnt 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 ev«
of her death, " behold the blessed Virgin in her snow-whitd
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 YIII. with great
solemnity, and that holy Pontiflf composed in her honour one
of the most beautiful oflfices in the Roman liturgy. Thus was
twice blessed and consecrated in Heaven and on earth thfi
dear name of Elizabeth which we have so often repeated,
bnt which we have written e^ch time with new and sweet
•iBOiioii.

h- ■■' .

-.••'.««('

■•-■.<^S'-JL

$e&

in OV IT. BLICABBTB,

CHAPTER XXXIV.

irOBLI CBURCH THAT WAS ERECTED AT MARBFItO IH nONOri
«lr THE DEAR ST. ELIZABETH ; AND HOW HER PRECIOUS RELICS WBBI
raOFAMBD ; AND ALSO THE CONCLUSION OW THIS BISTORT.

1!li:t

Ave femma specioM
Mnlieriim sidus, rosa,
Ez regali atirpo lute
None In eolin coronate
SaWe rosa pietetis,
Salve flos Ilangarita,
Salve fulf ens margarlteT
In ccelesti aede idta;
Roga rcgem M i^eatetls
Ut nos salvet liodie
Lumen mittens eiultatlt
Ao ooslestb gratia.

Ancient C^ghe qf&, OtBab^lh,

Ik the bosom of a valley watered by the siWery Lahn, one
eminence stands detached from the sarroanding 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 its
Bides and at its foot ; the two tapering towers and the high
•oof of the church of St. Elizabeth arise between it and tho
sanks of the river, which here winds around as if to encircle
e city. Outside the gates green meadows, charming ga^
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 seeiui

Of lUNOART.

40S

U^ vm that out ot Italy we have never seen a site more pictu-
K'sqae, more attractive, mora in accordance with the traditions
alt»(;hed to it.

Wheresoever we tarn in the neighbonrhood of Marbarg we ,
we find the same beauties under aspects infinitely varied.

The Lahn flowing on, calm and pure, between its verdant
hftnka, the admirable proportions of the Cathedral, its majestic
ehvation over all that surrounds it, the graceful and picturelike
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 idea of the treasures it contains, but how ranch 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 Welirda, the passenger perceives a fountain
with a triple jet, which is named Eliaabethabrum.. It was
there she was accitstcined to wash the garments of the poor;

404

LIIB or ST. BIItABETH

iil :|t

M ir B

a large blue stone on which she used to kneel when eii^rn^^r,.
in this laborious occupation was removed to the Church, aiu
is still to be seen there. Pnrther on he arrives at Eiiza'nfir
bridge, at a little distance from it he sees Elizabeth'' » mill^
buildings which were erected, most probably, during the 1iie*|
lime of the Saint. At the other side of the city, the ])alii-|
way of the road from Cassel crosses a bridge, passes the liill
whereon the castle was built, and winding under tlic slmdy
groV66 of the botanic garden, leads to the front of the c)iur<h ;
this path is still called the pilgrim's stone, (Pilgrimstein.) It
is a memorial of the long files of pilgrims who, during tlirec
centuries used to come ft'ora all parts of Germany, and cveri
from the most distant lands of Christendom, to visit the holy
shilne ; and whose confluence there contributed so much to
the prosperity of Marburg, which was, before that time, but
an tin walled town.

Even the serere Oonrtid bM befe his place in the popular
memory ; a fountain ^Ilod Manehsbrunn, is snrmountcd 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 volome.

But it is time to speak of the celebrated chottih which is
here, the great bionument of Eliuibcth's glory. It is erected,
as we have already said, upon the lj8>nks 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 al)Out 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 aud surrounding scenery. The
traveller should walk in the neighbourhood, and successively
itudy the different points of view, *.o appreciate how mach tbi

:l 1

or nVHOAET.

40<

tituation contributes to the exquiMte appeatttnoe of ita no-
ble inonunient; and the result ot' his exAiuination would
Ik the thought thnt it would b« almost iinposftiblc to discover
I inor« appropi'i}ite site. Tiiis discnmiiiation iu choosing a
luilable foundatioQ was a distinctive feature in the erection
of all the gorgeous piK^s left us by our Catholic forufuthero.
Ti\e beauty of the church and the extraordinary advantages
Lt' its position have given rise to many popular traditiotts
'respecting its origin; according to these it was £Iixabeth
who first entertained the idea of erecting a church ; she
wished that it siiould be built on the height of a rock, still
called Kircktp%t»6^ whioh 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 Tain;
the ground was examined in different directional, but it was
found impossible even to lay the foundations, aiid the old story
fiays, that the work performed daring the day was destroyed
every nighk At length, one day, she lifted a Btone, almoRt
impatiently, and threw it from the rock, declaring at the sarne
time, that wherever that should fall she would erect the
church. The stone rested on the Bpot where the magnificent
huilding 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 wonld
have been quite suflBcient to deter any one from building
there without being actuated by some supernatural motive*

The people also relate that daring the long period oecnpied
in erecting this vast edifice, tlie funds contributed to defray
•11 the exi)ense8 for the building were kept in aa unlocked
(host, from which every man could take what was justly dne
to him ; and if cupidity induced any one to commit fraud by
taking more than his right, the money would vauish from him
and return to the coffer. An expressive fltymbol of the feeUiigi

LIFB or IT. ELIXABBTS,

i I

of faith and disinterestediiessi which the modern gcncratio
•eem to have lost, and with them the power of rivallimr []^^,
wonders of Christian architecture.

Let us now approach the church, through a gnrd« n
roses — flowers which here, as well as at Wartburg. ficn
specially consecrated to Elizabeth. Let us first mention thai
the foundation stone of the noble pile was laid by tin* (r.,,,,
Landgrave Conrad on the vigil of the Assumption in tiio vcar
1235, some months after the canonization of the Saint, anil
that this date makes the church of Saint Elizabeth tlie tiistl
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, wiijcli
were not finished until 1283. The interior, the spii :>»,
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 mir^lit
imagine that it sprung in a single day from the mould of Die
boly and vigorous 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, as
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
tint, except in * little lateral door of the nave, and it is the"(

•T BUirOARr,

tint the effect of a saperabnndance of fiower-shaped omamentt,
which hare in a very slight degree altered the character of tht
beautiful, simply-pointed arch.

From this rare and wonderful unity in the excellent pro*
])ortions of the edifice there results an admirable whole, which
toiids 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 sim
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
tiie 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 %ny kind
whatsoever, who was engaged during a period of more than
fifty years, on this immense undertaking. They seem to have
:aken the same puns to hide themselves from tl>e praise of

408

Liyi or 8T ILIfABITH,

posteHty, tliat vain men do to render tbeir fntrigniflcant wnrl
eternal.

How sublimely nameless I they songfit biit to racrcifo t)io]|
glory ill tbat of the dear Saiut, the beloved of Christ and of ih(
poor; and when their Iab<:»riou8 task was completed, thoy .li.Mii
as they bad lived, unknowing, unknown; in the simpliritv od
Uieir heai'ta forgetting all but God and Elizabeth, and unrc
membered by all save Hiin and her.

Wben seeking their names, »nd finding onr researthct
naeless, we become aware that higher feelings than those do
nT»ble from the success of materlgj efforts, or from the gcniu!)
of cultivated miu4s goycrned by purely homt^Q motives, anima
ted the builders of these houses of Qod, (truly worthy of that
name,) which were erected before the miserable degradai.on
fif ecclesiastical architecture, duriag md since the 16th cen-
tury. We discover the uitspeakable ejects of the mysterious
And superior life, produced in these fruits of the ancient power
Qf our faith, and we find ourselves repeating th^ words of
Saint Augustine : " No one could enter here if these beams
find these stones did not adhere to each other in a certain
order — ^if they were not cemented by a pacific cohesion— if,
JO to speak, they *did not love each other.*^

If we might define in a few words what appears to ns to
be the distinctive character of this church of Saint Elizabeth,
we would say that it is a virginal simplicity and purity. The
Irue Christian architecture is to be se«n there in all its primi-
tive beauty, in all its youthful grace, newly blooming in tlie
JOK light of faith. In comparing it with tho gorgeous and
more recently built Cathedrals of Straaboor^ Cologne, Amiens,
Saliabury, iScc., with all th^ase varied typea of the iminoriai
apottso of Ohriftt, we imagine a di0»pance, auch aa that wliicli
asiits between the modeet gamienta ni a g^tle maiden, who
ibr the fiist time appro*Bbes the holv tftUe, Mid the brilliant
f estare of a beauteous bride.

or UVMOART.

We must be excnaed for insetting a ivw pwticulAra rc«peot>
jiir ibis churck. The exterior, wiiiuk hm the advauUige of
being totally sepArated front all odier builtiingn, ofivra to ui Jit
p. iiiiarity of two ranges of windowti one above the othor#
vliilst the height of the lateral tratle of the interior it not <lo«
Uacted from bjr any gallery or dlTiHiiui). Theie windows art
limply two points united, surmouaied by a cbole, and encloied
io a greafter Oghe ; od Mrangeoietit which eiaotly reminda the
traveller of the senne u xe srulmi wiadows of the Cathedralr
of Vita nnd Sienoa, cf Or-San-Miehele, and the Palazzo Strozai^
iiid those of tnoBt of the edifices of the middle ages in Italy,
We find I ere neither pinnacles nor abutments, nor any of th<i
ornaments of the later Gothic styles. The princii>al or western
front is of the most exqnisite simplicity ; it is composed of ^
rpacious portal, snrmonnted by a large window and a triangu*
lar gable, flanked by two towers with their lofty spim of ad^
mirably pure 6tyle And synrmetrlcul fbrm.

The niche over the portal is occupied by a beaoiiftil staittM
of the Ble$»«d Virgin, the special Protectress of the Teutonic
Order. She is represented as crushing tinder foot the vicei
and sins under the forms of Kttle monsters; from her feet, at
the right side, proceeds a rine laden with an abundance of
grapes, and at the left, a rose-tree coreted wHh blossomsi,
wlierein are little birds; On either side a kneeling angel rener-
att's this Queen, victorious orer sin, and the unfailing source of
tliy fruits of truth and the flowers of beauty. Tlie execution
equals the touching grace and mystic meaning of this figure*
The foliage of the capitals, and the tracery wreathing tire arch
cf 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 h divided
tuto a nave and aisles of equal height This pecaliaH^,
18

->'

410

LIFI OF ST. ■IIXABITII,

^i!' i r

wYiich IS rarely discernible in the vast basillcM of the in iMle
agcfl, appears to have been a distinctive feature of the ehu. . 1,. «
of the Teutonic Order, and to have been iatrodaceU iut(. di
their foundations in Prussia.

We are also pleased to find here the natural colour of Uw
■tone, which no vile plaster has ever tarnished, either v\ itiiiu
the building or on its exterior.

We everywhere perceive the joining of the cut stone ; we
admire the marvellous union of solidity and lightness wliicli
permitted the orehitect to leave the lateral walls, iu some
places of two feet, in others of eighteen inches only, in tiiick*
ness. A double row of columns marks the division of the
three parts ; each is simply composed of four colonettt g.
Theijr capitals are carved wreaths of vine, ivy, roses, a, ul
trefoils, and these are the only ornaments the sculptor has
admitteii. A little wooden statue, representing the dear Saint
holding the model of a church in her bands, rests agniust one
of the pillars iu the nave.

The church is, as it ought to be, in the form of *. jross ; the
choir and the transept, or the two arms of tho cross, are teritn-
nated by polygonal niches. The choir is closed by a tribuno
in wood-work, with statuettes of great beauty. The principal
altar, consecrated on the 1st of May, 1290, is perfectly in kee|)-
ing with the rest of the building, and is surmounted by a Coro-
nation of the Bicssed Virgin in relievo.

The windows of the choir are filled with superb stainod
glass — not representing, as would be the case in a church of
later construction, historic scenes, or holy personages — Unt
simply flowers and foliage, which, in the judgment of some
persons, are the most suitable subjects for painted glass. Tli«
remainder of the stained wijidows were destroyed by the army
of his most Christian majesty Louis XV., who, in the sevrn
years' war, converted this church into a store for forage.

On the four deserted altars in the transept, we remark

■OW UUNOART.

Lljecis in painting and sculpture, representing the principal
events of tile Saint's life, as well as the legends of St. John
tbo Baptiht, and Su Goorgo, parts of which are attributed to
I All>crt Durer, but which are, in our opinion, the work of some
irti&t previous to his time, and of a taste more purely religioua
liiiin his was. These are gilt in alto-relievo^ and covered by
t. reen» of wood painted on both sides with simple but most
imitrcssive 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 bcggarman when she
was going to the banquet hall ; the miracle of the leper mid
on her husband's bed ; the last embrace of Elizabeth and
Louis wheu be was departing for the Crusade ; her expalsiob
from Wartburg ; her fall in the muddy stream at Eisenach ;
the visit of Count Ban6 ; 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 illustrions
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 God, 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 preaerraUon the beautiful monuments of the good Land

ill

it%

Lll

gmve Conrad, brotlMr4ihkv of Um 8«iat, witk h\% dU ihiin*!
!■ hb htnd ; Ch»t of ike Docheis Sophia, daofflitrr nf i;);>a
bftb, tb« face of which ii alinoet worn awajr flrom the ki^ < ni
of the pilfrrimi; and tb« Wmtis of fifteen oilier pr'uwAs i.i.il
priocefses of Hesse from the tSth to the 16thccuturiu»— mul
Miongflt tbcro we cannot but'adinire that of the Laiitl^rriiv.;
Qeury IIL, niyled the Bully, who died in 1370, whou btan.e
is sculptured upon the sauie ttone with the truly Uiiiuiitul >»Ui:
of his wifd Eluufcbeth; three little aogeJi sustain and Hino.i;|i
the piitow on which their hends reposoi while monks and nuns,
kneelii g at their feet, rc«d prayers fur their souls* weul.

In ine of the angles at the other extremity of the Cr*>i»
towards the north, is the Ohapel whene the rt'lios of tiio
Ueieed Saint herself were deposited; this ohapid forms a kin<l
of long square portico with four aruhoe, two of which rest
against the wall of the aiche, and the other two are exposed.
The hiterior tanlting of the bcantifhl roof is pointed, but the
sumoiit of the entire square ie flat and terminated by a high
balustrade, and frcn this, the relics were, doubtless, exposed
to the people, or else it serred as a place for the musicians on
great f:3ti?al8. Chisternig foliage, seolptured and gilt on an
ainre ground, wreathes around the rising of the arches, con-
oeals the sharpness of the anglet, and thus eontrasts with tli«
plainnesB of the other portions of th<rohurch. In a space be-
tween the arches and the square there may be seen a frt6<o
representing the coronation of Elizabeth in Heaven ; it h
partly effuccd, and of the inscription it is now hnpomible to
decipher more than the words : gloria Trbutonii. On the
lateral ba«e of the chapel is a bas-relief which merits particu-
Inr attention, as well for its antiquity, for it is probably the
work of an artist coeval with oar Saint, as for the char
•eter of exquisite simplicity by which H ia distinguished.
Blizabeth 'a represented as dead, and laid In her coffin, witb
her bands gently cmssed jpon her boscn. Our Lord, witlr

(ht holj Virgin by bit tiUk, m stjunttng nmLf tbe bivr ; Ui«
loilof Elifabeih onder the fonn of • child. Mwij bom, btil
ftlraad/ crowned with giory, if prceecteil bjr iwt gtmrdiaa
lugel to Chritti who Hfta Ilia haad to bleu her ; Mother
tngelecatterRinceuie troaud ; oar Lady loolcs lovingly on hcf
ductlt and humble papil ; by her tide ia a bearded niun, with
tt ianee iu liaud, and wearing the bodge of u Crusiider, rvpr**
geuting either the good Dnlte Loaii, or the peaitent Coorad
At tbe right itauds St. John the Kvungeliiit, special friend
»ud pntrou of tbe Saint ; St Catherioe, and St. Peter with
tlie keys of Paradise. On the left, St. John the Baptist, St
Mary Magdalene, and a Bishop, mppoied to be Sigefrid of
Mayeuca. It was before this bas-relief that the Pilgrims used
to kneeli aud the stone is still to be seen, hollowed and worn
Trom their knees.

The shriuo in wbioh tbe relics of tlie Saint were preserfed
was placed above this bas-relief, and protected by a grating,
which still exists. It is now removed to tbe sacristy, which is
between the choir and the northern transept The shrine ia
oa9 of the most wonderful productions of the goldsmith's skill
in the middle agea Wo know not the name of its maker, any
more than tlu&t of tha architect of the church. It is iu tho
furm of a Gothic house, with a donblo-gablud roof, a parallel*
ogram, six feet long, two feet wide, and three feet and a half
high. It ia of oak wood, covered with silver gilt ; the twf
narrow sides form portals, uudsr one of wluch is a statue of
tbe Blessed Yii'gin, crowned with a diadem of precious stonesi
and holding the infant Jesus ; under the other is the figure
of St ElUaboth, wearing the religious habit On ons of the
)oug sides, Jesus Christ is represented, seated and teaching,',
with three of his apostles at his right bond and three at his'
luft On the other. Our Lord is seen upon the cross, whicb
ii in tba form of » tree, with its branches. St, John and St
Magdaleoe are at Uis feet, and two angels crown His beul

414

LIFE or ST. BLIZABBTB,

ioff head. On the right and left are the other six apostles.
A(l these figures are surmoanted by richly-caryed canopies,
Ou the m<:Uued planes of the roof are eight bassi-relicvi, rep.
resenting as many scenes in 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 aims-
purse — the gift of the ring — their last kiss. These sculptures
and bassi'relievi are of excellent workmanship, and are wrouglit
in massive silver gilt. An immense quantity of onyxes, ga)>
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 tlio
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-
■hip 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 Franco-Westplia-
linr government, under which the shrine was brought to Cas-
eel, where the most valuable were removed, to the number of
one hundred ai.d seventeen. This shrine, in its form and
beauty, resembles that famous one of St. Sebald at Knmberp^,
emamented with the figures of the twelve Apostles, by Peter
Piicher ; bat it has the advantage of being two centuries

OF HUKOART.

41i

Mder, 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 Hes:«e, 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 firat 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 Teacheiv
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
dnly from the outside. It became necessary to throw out the key/'
that some one in the crowd might apply it to the Icck. While
waiting, his highness was good enough to say, ** If we are des*
lined to die in this sacristy, we will first appease our banget

m ■ I f

LIFE or ST. ELIZAICTH,

bj eating the Counnaader.*' " That u to 8aj,^ replied tlit
latter, " if I am in a hamour to allow myself to be eateii.**
The necessary tools were soon brought, and when the work-
nu;n had made a breach, the Prince cried oat, " On, on ;
thank God ! Here, then, are the relks of St. Elizabeth !
Behold my boDca and her bones 1 Come hither, old Motlicr
Lisette I Behold my grandame !'' Then this worthy descend-
ant of a Saint, turning to the Commander, said, " It is very
beavy, my Lord Commander; I would be glad if it were
full of crown-pieces; but there will be, I hope, tome good
old Ilangarian 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 1 were not here to witness this scene
to-day r The shrine was opened ; the Landgrave put in liif
fiand, and drew forth a casket lined with red satin, which con-
tained the relics of the Saint : these he handed to an officer
6f hid household, who threw them into a forage-bag carried
by a servant, who brought them to the castle. The Land*
grave himself ctit away a piece off the shrine, which he thought
was of massive gold ; be had it tried by a goldsmith; find-
ing that it wns of copper gilt, he cried oat, " How these
fnriests deceive people ! They have made this shrine of cop-
per, and kept all tlie gold for themselves." Then he perceived
timt h« wanted the head of the saint ; and, after long insist-
ing, he forced the Oomroander to show him a secret press in
the aacriety, where the head waj kepi, together with the crown
snd gclden chalice that the Emperor Frederic had offered, on
the day of the solemn translation, three hundred and three
jrears 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 iht Gtntrout.

In the same year, 1^29, he obtained a dispensation, signed
by Dr. Martin liuther, and seven other evangelic theologiani
Miombded at Wittemberg^ to marry two wives at the saros

Pf nvnoA^j.

417

i\n\fiu Woribj WM he to be the fatJier of that race of princei,
wi)0 Qiiriog a ceutory lived upon the price ol^taiued from Eagr
land for their sabjeats, whom tbey sold to be employed by her
iu the AmericaQ 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 hi3 confidants. Jn 1546, under
the prete;ct of saving it from the dnngers of war, he had thQ
precious shrine carried to the Gi^tle pf Ziegenhayn. But in
two years after, yielding to the pressing demands of the Com-
mander, John de Rehen, Philip returned this sacrtd property
to Marburg; at the same time, be thought fit to obey an order
lent to him, in the very year of the sacrilege, by the Einperof
Charles V^ to restore to the church the relics of Saint Eliza-
beth.

They were disinterred and giyen tp the Coqimander, bl^
were never more replaced in the shrine. On the receipt of
them by John de Rehen, on the 12tb of July, 1548, there
were a great many psrts wanting ; find, dating from thi^
time, they were soon completely dispersed.

Towards the close of the sixteenth century, Spain made
^eat exertions and incurred vast expense, to collect and
preserve tlie relics of saints w'hich remained in the countries
invaded by heresy ; the pious Infanta Isabella Clara Eugenia,
then governing the Low Countries, whose memory is still so
popular iiv Belgium, obtained the scuti 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 tbo
Castle de la Roche Guyon, in France, whence it has been
recently transferred to Beranfon, by the Cardina;! Duke do
Rohan, and where it is now venerated in tho Hospitai of Si.
lames, in that oity.

Ono ^ the armp woi^eait to Hongaiy^ forth^ portiooiiif
18*

410

liri or IT. ILIXABITR,

liin

the relics are preserved at Hanover, Vienna, Colojrne, and At
Br^lait, 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 trenibliii»
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 hoi
arms, which he offered for sale to several sovereigns, who reck-
oned her amount their ancestors, but without being able to
find a purchaser I

At Marburg there are none of her relics ; but a tradition as-
■erta that her bones were interred under the grand altar, whence
they were stolen in 1634. At the present time, only a piece c/
tapestry, which it is naid that she worked, is shown ; it represents
the parable of the prodigal child, and is used at the ConiaiUaioa
I'able, 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 whicii re-
gards the veneration cf 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 ana eailh. hiis
not had the same fate which tho remains of other holy ones
have experienced. In many instances they have reposed,
guanlod by the love and veneration of successive generations,
near the altars where the daily oblation of the Spotless Sacri-
fice is made. On the contiary, all the countries in which this
sister of the Angels sojourned, have lost the Faith ; the chil>
Una of the people whom the so tenderly loved and to fi»

or BUVOABT*

419

qneiitlj succoaredf have denied and renounced ber powerful
protection. Thuringia, where she lived a maiden and a wife ;
Hesse, where rolled on the years of her widowhood ; each has
ahp >doned Catholicity.

The traces of the proud Luther at Wartbnrg, have succeed-
ed to the remembrance of her pious and humble childhood,
of the trials of her youth, of ber conjugal life, unrivalled in
its tenderness and sanctity. From the height of the old
towers of the Castle, the eye of the Catholic traveller wan-
ders over the wido-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
DOW but an historic fact, and the few Catholics who are tol-
erated there have not even a special Mass on her festival day I
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 1

These were the feelings of the poor Capuchin, whom we
quote for the last time with regret, when he said in the 17 th
century — " When I visited the noble church and rich tomb
of the saint, my heart watt pierced with grief on finding them
b possession of the Lutherans, and now so shamefully do-
spoiled of their former splendour. Oh I how I lamented
before God and entreated the dear Saint Elizabeth, with all
my might, to restore order there. But, inasmach as the

_>■"

4tO

LIWU' «y tf. VLItABITH,

B': !

htrcftioi negleot to rerere tliee, «o idtoald ire render to thee
ftll honour — eo should we inroke thee with redoubled fervour,
O gloriotts Mnraot of Ood ! and so should we njoice for ever
that God called thee in thine infancy ^ic far-off Hungar}',
to give thee to our Oenuavj as a most rare and precious
jewel."

But yet, evea in tlie countries which liave Ibrgotten her
jglory and renoanoed her fantSi, there is devoted to the Saint
n mai'k of homi^e — perhaps the sweetest and most snituble
ever decreed. The people havie given to a Httle flower, aa
finmble and modest as herself, the nam^ ef the dear Saint
SlieahetKt Plmdcret; this is the CfyUut IfeJianlheum. U
ckwtes its corolla at sunset, as Elizabeth used to banish from
her soul all that was not a ray of light and of ^ace from Or
High. How happy should we he, if this aioall tribute which
we wish to render to her glorious memory waa as acceptable
to her, as must have been the feeling of pious and confiding
affbction which formerly induced some Catholic peasants tc
eonf^ on the flower they admired, her beloved name.

And it will be permitted to us, before coQcludii^g these
pages, to lift np our heart and foice to yon, O glorious
Baint — to yon whom we have, in hnmble imitation of so
many fervent souls, dared to name also ovr dear Elizabeth !
Oh, beloved oT Chri£(t I deign to become the celestial protect-
ress of our Bod, aud aid ns to become the firiend of your
Friend. Turn towards os from your place In heavenly bliss,
one !}f lAiose gentle IooIbb which on earth were auffident to
'heal the worst infirmities of maukimL We have come, in a
dailc 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 havo welcomed ns, and your sweet me
mory has oft^n given ns peace. Be yon blessed for ever, foi
the many precioas tears we liave shed over the history of
'Tonr sorrows and your patience, ydur charity and your an

OF RUNSAIIT.

^lic simplicity ; for the laboars and wanderings yon hav«
watched over ; for the many solitary days when you alone
were present to our minds ; for the many sad hc^rs that your
dear image alone could solace ! Blessed bo you for ever for
all these favours, and do you deign to bless the last and mo8|
oBwortky of your hittorimnf 1

Bespondens Jesns dixit : Coufiteor tibi, Pater DomiM,
oeall *it terrsB, quia abscondisti h«c a Mpientibni eft pretei
ibua et reveksti ea parvnlia.

FtAst ov Saint BusAitfi,
Kotmti 1#, IMl

LlfK or 8T. ■LIIABETH,

A TARLR SnOWTNO tm KASTES OF THE AUTHORS WROSR WORKS, ETTHIR
IN MSS. OK IN A PKINTKD FORM, WERE CONSULTED BY TUB COliry
MONTALEMBEKT PREVIOUS TO WKITINO TUIS UISTORT.

; .lii

Tn offuriiig this humble work of ours, with the hope of ei-
teita.iig the glory of the Dear Siiint Elizabeth^ wo rcnoiiiu;e
all tlie merit of hivention or originality. The only honour
we hu?e soaglit is that of being regarded as a faithful com-
piler and a correct translatx>r of the works left us by our
forefathers iu the Faith. A pioos ezactiiiess Is the only qual-
ity to which we lay claim ; aud, to confirm this, we insert
A list of all the historic sources from which, during researches
and travels for the Fpace 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 paged 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 oar veracity ; we can bat refer them to the
authors whose names follow, and to all the authentic records
of the Saints* lives, before the epoch of mutilation and alterpr
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 mast minute particular. This we have
o1)served with the utmost fidelity, and we can afiirm that
there is not a single detail related, nor a word attributed to
fLtij personage in this history, that has not ')een copied ez«

or BUHQART.

43a

ftctly from works either printed or in manuscript, which were
invested with all due aathority In onr eyes. On this Eiibjec*
we may apply to ourselves the expressions of the first bio^
rapher of the Saint ; and happy are we, aOer the lapse of fiff
centuries, to speak with the same firm ana simple faith — " I
take Ood and his holy angels to witness, that in this little
book I have uot inserted anything but what I gathered from
correct manuscripts, or heard from religions 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
vorthy of her than are mine.^

PRINTED.

4IITB0R8 COirnniPORARIBS Of THK SAniT OR LtTINO PRBYIOOS TO

THB RBFORMATIOM.

1. Epistola magistri Conradi de Marburg ad Papam, de
vita B. Elisabeth. .,

2. Libellus de dictis quatuor Ancillanim S. ElisabethsB dve
examen miracnlorum et vitas ejus.

3. Hsec est forma de statu mortis LantgraTifle de ThnringiA,
ex MS. Liesbomensi, apnd Martene et Dnrand^ CoUoctio
ampliftsima kc. Pars 1.

4. S. Bonaventune sermo de sancta Elisabeth.

5. Theodorici Turing!, ordinis pnedicatorum, librl octo de
8. Elisabeth, Andres regis Hungarorum filia.

6. De sancta Hclisabeth — a legend from the famous cot
lection entitled : Aurea legenda sanctorum qua lombardicik
hystoria nominator, compilata per fratrum Jacobun^ dt
Vora^e .

434

LIFE Of it. ILllAftBTI,

t. Anctor RhTtmicns de vlU S. Kltmbethtt LindgrAr!*
11iurin{|:iie h codice bibl. Dncalis Sftxo Qothan.

8. Monachi iBeoacenai rulgo Jobantiif Rothe, Chronicon
l%oringin Ternaculnm.

9. Legende tod Sant ElBebeten-^in the greftt legend called
Ftuwional.

10. Sermo de S. Elteabetb, in tbe TbeeanfoB novofl dc
Sanctis.

11. Vita illoMtris ae di?0 Elisabeth, tegia Hongaronini
the coiiscripta stilo elegantisslmo opera Ohritti Sacerdotii
Jacobi Montani Spirensis— inserted in the large edition of
finrins, entitled, De Probatis Sanctwum Uistdriis

12. Annales de Hafnant, par Jean LefRtre-^pnbliahed also
after tlie Histoire de Hainaut, par Jaoqdea de Onyse.

We omit the names of several authors, snch as Vincent de
Beaavais &c., who have only 8pol[en in a cursory manner of
St. Elizabeth in their wofkik

CATHOLIC WRitiaa Afna nn RzroRMATioff.

: i

Id. Antottii Bonllnfi Remm TTngarienm decade qnatuor
cnm dimidio 1581.

14. Annales mittorntn len trfatti ordinom a 8. Fmneisco
institntorum a R. P. Lnca Wadding bibefnfr. Rome, 1732.

15 Justus Lipsius, tKta Tirgo Halleniia opera. Tome
n. page 809.

16. Bavaria sancta, descripta a MatthMo Badero, de So&
Jesus Monacf, 1615.

n. La vie de 8. Eliaabelh, fifle da Roi de Hongrie,
Duchesse de Thnifnge, pTemi^ religiease du tiers ordre de
Hi. Franks, recaeillie par le R. P. Apollioaire, retne> oor-
fig^e, et augment^, par le R. P. Jeai Marie, da ni4ne or Ire.
Ihiris, l66a.

16 La Vie de S. Elizabeth, die, par le P Afchsoga,

f^ligieQX peoiteftt dtt troisiime ordre de 9t Fmn^. Ptria,
1692.

19. Aaserieienci history Bdclt too deft IMien ClottM
hciiigcn, &c., bjr P. MartiQ de Kocbem, Capuchin. Aog**
mm^, 1781

20. UistoiredesOrdresMonaatiqaeifleP Helyoi PtrK^

21. Die Leg^dde der H. EUnbeth, foii Johaim. Oraf
liailftth. 1822.

•

rBOmTAHT AUTHORS.

t9. Adftml ttr^inf, Molybergcosis Chronlcon tliarlttgUi
fernaciilam, apud Menckenii Script. Rer. Sax. 1547.

23. Diva Elisabetha magnitiee coronata ; Christiliche
Ebrengedoechtiiiss der H. EGiabeth, ii zwei Predigteii, voo
i. B. Happel, Lutbeian Minister cf the Teatouic Order.
(045.

24. Oedrg. Michel Pfelferkorn, Aaserlesene OescLichto
rOft der berutnhten Landgrafschaft Thiiriiigen, 1684.

1^5. J. J. Wirkelinan, Beschfuibuiig der FursteLChumer,
Hedsen, &c. Bfcmen, 1608.

26. Ghr. Fron. PaalHui historia Eisenacensis, X,e. Frank-
fort, 1098.

27. Andret^s Toppiud Btetorir. def Sta^t fii^nach, fer-
fasset, 1660.

28. Job. Mich. JSoch. Hlstorlche Erzcelung von dem 6chIosf
Wiiitburg ob Eisenach, 1 1 1 0.

29. Das itn Jahr, 1708, lebende und schwebeode Eisenack,
fMi Johann Limperg, 1709.

30. Bina Sanct&rum, Etisabetharam — (her of l^hsageo,
who died in 1056, and onrs) — Veluti illtistrissfmarutia Soec. zi
and xiii., testinm feritatid e?aogeliciB in Itassia, memiiria
■MNinmSfitil et tttunidis dcclarata, i J. A. tiiebknecht, 1T29.

LIfl OF ST. ILIIABITH,

81. J. H. Yon Falckeustetn, Thiiriugiich« Chronik S. ?
Erfurt, 1788.

82. J. Q. A. Galletti, Oescliichte Tburingeni, Ootha,
1783.

83. Thiiringiiche geschichte aos lAorrrAiinjs hiDterlasseo
en Papieren, kc. 1787.

84. Klisabfith die heilige, Landgnsfin too Thtiringen and
Bo8scn, kc, Ton Dr. Karl Wilhelm Jasti, 1707. 1885.

85. J. C. S. ThoD, Bchloss Wartburg, Eisenach, 1826.

86. Histoire G^nealogiqae de 1% Maison de Hesse. Bj
Baron Turkheim. Strasbourg, 1819.

37. Oeschichte von Hessen, von Christophe Romniel, 1820.
88. Oeschichte der Hohenstaufen, and ibrer Zeit. bj Fred
trie de Raumer.

MANUSCRIPTS.

^ Das Leben des edein tnginthaftin lantgrayen Ladewigii
.4 de was elich gemahel unde wert der helligen hochgebor-
uen Frouwin Elysabcth, 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 Bertbold, his chap
lain. Library at Gotha, another at Cassel.

2. Vita S. Elisabethie Landgravie a fratre Csesario, sacer
doti in monasterio vallis S. Petri, better known as Ceesar of
Heisterbach*, 1237.

3. Der lieben frowen sant Elysabeten de landgrefin leben

4. Cy en commence la vir- ck $te. Elysabel fille an roy df
Bongrie. Rutcbeuf MS. 763^ Bibli. Roy. Paris.

5. Chi commenche de Ste. Ynbiel. JLe moine Roberl
MS. I3th century. Bib. du r^. Pdris, Xo. 1862.

6. Sente Elsebet Leben. IWmstadt.

1, Yon Sente Elysabetheo. Strasbonrg.

8. Von Sente EIsalNethen. Heidelberg, 1845, 1S49

OF nviioART.

4fl

f . Tita S. ElyBbcthsD ITiinj^rifle Regtna. Florence.

10. Ijfgende dcr H. Elisabet und 8. Gortraud ir mutter.

11. IlistoriaccclcNiaRtica Isenaccnsis per Munich. M.Nicb*
»Ioum Rcbhnhn, 1621. Eisenach.

12. Joh. Whil. Waldschmidt. Commentatio gnccincts d«
rita ct fntis M. Conradi do Marburg, Confessoris div» EliM^
betliae. Cassel Library.

1 3. Leben Mag. Conradi Yon Marbnrg. J. N Schroiiikioi^
Bibli. dc Cassel.

And thirteen other docaments in Mannscript collected b|
the BollandisU, and d)w in the Burgnndlan librtij,