Posted on 11/18/2002 5:36:46 PM PST by Lady In Blue
THE LEGEND OF SAINT ELIZABETH
By Ruth Sawyer
HERE is a tale that is old and very beautiful. It has been sung and told throughout Europe for a thousand years and more, at the courts of Provence, Navarre, Spain, and in every little duchy and principality. Mothers of Hesse and Thuringia have been telling it to their children since the time of the Crusades; and the poor in Hungary still say: "For each prayer offered to Elizabeth there is one less suffering soul on earth."
Like a troubadour of olden time let me tell the story; and you listen as if you were sitting in kings' houses.
Here followeth the legend of our good Saint Elizabeth.... Born in the year of Our Lord 1207, received into blessed martyrdom in the year of 1231, May the Lord have a like mercy on our souls.
Hermann, landgrave of Thuringia and Hesse, sat at meat in his castle at Wartburg. About him were his knights, squires, men-at-arms, the ladies of the court, and certain minnesingers who had come to try for that yearly prize of gold given by the landgrave. Among these was one Klingsor of Hungary, greatly renowned for his songs and his prophecies. Coming before Hermann he spoke in this wise: "Knowest thou, my lord, that unto Gertrude, consort of Andrew of Hungary, there will be born this night a daughter to be named Elizabeth and destined to be the bride of thy eldest son, Ludwig?"
Straightway the landgrave dispatched unto the court of Hungary a trusty, one Walter of Vargila, to make certain of the truth of the prophecy, and to ask the hand of the infant Elizabeth for his son. Further did he beseech the lord of Hungary, should he deem it prudent, to entrust to the messenger no lesser thing than the child herself, that both infants might be reared together at Wartburg and so grow strong in love, honor and courtesy, each for the other.
Thus it did come to pass that the young Elizabeth was brought to Wartburg in a silver cradle. Feasting was held; vassals, serfs, even children came to pay homage to the little princess. The young Ludwig was placed beside her in the cradle as sign and symbol of their betrothal. They were gently rocked to sleep while garlands were strewn and children sang them sweet lullabies:
Lightly we'll dance to thee,
Sweet songs we'll sing to thee,
Fair little bridal pair,
Much joy we'll bring to thee.
But out of all the court who attended on that day there was one who paid no homage-Sophie, landgravine and mother of Ludwig. She looked down upon the sleeping infant in the cradle and felt a burning jealousy which turned straightway to hatred. And the ladies of the court, perceiving this, murmured among themselves: "Our landgravine loveth not the child. It would be well that we treat her with coldness and displeasure lest we bring Sophie's anger upon our own heads."
Thus the young Elizabeth grew into young maidenhood with little showing of kindness from the ladies of the court. Only the landgrave and young Ludwig showed tenderness and adoration. The harsh ways of Sophie and her women for the princess carried much wounding of heart; which was the more strange because of her loveliness. She was a child of grace, perfect in body, kindly in speech, modest in all ways, and full of godly love toward all creatures.
Once, at the Feast of the Assumption, she threw herself weeping before the altar of Our Blessed Lord, and laid her crown of gold and precious gems at His feet. Full of rage at this display of sorrow, Sophie rebuked her in the church, saying: "Stand up, thou silly child. Art mad to prostrate thyself like any common peasant and throw away thy coronet? Stand up, I say."
Whereupon Elizabeth answered: "From whom shall I find comfort if not from my dear Lord? And how may I pass Him by, proudly, with my crown of gold, when He wears so humbly His crown of thorns!"
Finding no refuge in the castle for her sore heart, Elizabeth went abroad among the serfs and peasants, ministering to all who were afflicted in body or soul. Early she learned the art of nursing, often sitting the day through beside some pallet praying. And when the day ended, often it would come to pass that fever and pain would depart, and the sick one would be made whole.
Word of this was spread throughout the land, until there came to the castle gates many who were maimed, diseased, or blind. In the courtyard they would be packed like dogs, waiting to touch the hem of her little garment as she passed, or to beg her to lay her hands upon them. And Sophie, angered the more at this, would look down from the castle turret and say scoffingly to her women: "Look at yonder fools-carrion! And she among them!"
Ten years passed away. The landgrave died; and now was Ludwig left alone to care for Elizabeth, alone to stand between her and Sophie's hatred. But Ludwig loved Elizabeth with a love that knew neither faltering nor blindness. It stood as shield and bulwark against the treacheries of the landgravine. So wondrous was that love that when within the compass of it Elizabeth forgot all cruelties. Then did her heart grow light as any singing bird's.
But ever Sophie waited for a time to break that love; ever jealousy cried that she must part these two.
A spring came, covering the land with fair lilies, filling the valleys with a gentle fragrance and the sound of the cuckoo calling to his mate. Ludwig departed to the far end of his lands on business that was urgent and troublesome and that held him from Elizabeth for a goodly time. Then did Sophie have rumors spread abroad concerning Ludwig-black, ugly tales of his loving a peasant wench. When the tales reached Elizabeth's ears she did straightway dispatch Walter of Vargila-the same knight that did bring her to Wartburg in her silver cradle-to beg Ludwig to send her some token of his love. And when Ludwig received the messenger and heard the tales at court he was filled with a great anger. Putting in the hands of the knight a mirror, wondrously wrought with a crucifix, he bade Walter of Vargila give it to Elizabeth with these words: "I would as soon betray my Savior as to suffer unfaithfulness toward my dear love."
When she received the token, Elizabeth's heart bounded with joy; and she hurried abroad to her sick and poor, that she might praise God with acts of service.
Upon Ludwig's return he dispatched heralds throughout the land proclaiming his marriage to Elizabeth. The good bishop married them; and there were set aside three days of feasting and splendor for all. This came to pass in Elizabeth's fifteenth year.
There followed then endless deeds of compassion-far too many to recount.
I might tell of how Elizabeth opened the great dungeons under the castle and made those cells of torture and imprisonment into a place of harborage for the sick and homeless, and of how, with the dungeons over-flowed, she did open a hospital near to the city and gave it into the care of holy women.
I might tell further of how upon a certain day when there came to Wartburg envoys from emperors and kings to make alliance with Ludwig that Elizabeth was abroad among her sick. So great was her diligence for them that the hour for meat had drawn near before she remembered the need of her presence at the castle. Then, lest she put shame upon Ludwig by keeping his guests waiting, she entered the hall as she was, clothed in her grey gown of service. But as she crossed the threshold angels descended from heaven bearing fitting raiment for her; one, a coronet for her head, one a dress of golden tissue, and one a mantle. So that when Elizabeth took her seat beside her consort she appeared in the sight of all who beheld her as fair as the lady of Heaven herself.
And greater than these is that tale of the leper that came, crawling to the castle, seeking help from Elizabeth. Ludwig was far distant; and the leper being far gone in his foul disease and all other places filled, Elizabeth carried him in her arms and laid him in Ludwig's own bed. When Sophie discovered this she was greatly enraged and dispatched a messenger for Ludwig; and upon his arrival at the castle at midnight, she conveyed him to his bed room, saying as they went: "A pretty wife thou hast. So little cloth she care for thee or thy love that she has placed in thy very bed a dying leper. This, that thou mayest take the scourge thyself."
But at the door they both stood confounded. For on the bed there lay none other than Christ, the Saviour. Seeing Ludwig and Sophie, He smiled right pityingly upon them and said: "Behold, the Son of Man had not where to lay His head. I pray you let me bide here until morning cometh."
And when morning came, Ludwig, kneeling in adoration, saw the Christ had gone and in His place lay the leper, cleansed and whole.
But of all wondrous miracles wrought by God's hand for Elizabeth the greatest came to pass when the land was stricken with famine. Crops failed, grain blighted, cattle sickened and died. The granaries of the castle dwindled until there was little wheat left. All about the land could be heard the rap-rap of the joiners' hammers, making coffins. Then did the landgravine come to Ludwig with terror, saying: "Thy wife gives and gives to the poor and soon we will have no bread. A fortnight ago the cooks baked a thousand loaves for thy knights and those in the castle; today they bake a scant fifty. Another fortnight and there will be no flour left. I beseech thee curb this madwoman of yours lest we all die."
Fearing more that Elizabeth might come to a grievous want, and fearful always that she might take upon herself some dread disease with all her nursing of the sick, Ludwig sternly bade her feed the poor no more, nor tend the sick.
"But, my lord, what will they do if they have not anyone to care for them?"
"Leave them in God's hands. And go thou not again until the famine be spent, the grain ripened in the fields, and pestilence no longer walks the earth."
But in the dark of the night Elizabeth heard the cries of hungry and the dying, nor could she sleep for the sound. There came a time when she could bear it no longer. Leaving her bed, she stole forth into the night, her arms laden with bread that she had pillaged from the larder. Hardly had she compassed the garden when Ludwig came upon her, unawares; and seeing her, his face hardened for the first time with anger.
"Why cost thou steal abroad like a thief, under cover of the night? What hidest thou under thy mantle?"
With an angry hand he flung aside her garment, and, lo, where there had been bread there were now roses-pale, ghostly roses, and out of their hearts dripped red, red blood like sacramental wine. The face of Elizabeth confounded him with its compassion and he knelt at the miracle, praying God for His merciful forgiveness. From that night famine departed from the land, the grain shot from the dry earth and ripened within a handful of days; and plenty dwelt again in their midst.
There is little more of the tale to be told. The land being at peace, Ludwig gathered his knights and marched forth to the Holy Wars. For a breath as they passed there was a great flying of colors, the neighing of gallant horses, the shining of splendid armor in the sun, the marking of brave singing to the tramp of surging feet. Amid the shouting and singing Ludwig bent at the last to take his sorrowful farewell of Elizabeth. A twelvemonth later, runners from the south brought her word of his death.
Then did Sophie, the landgravine, seize the tenury of Thuringia and Hesse. Elizabeth and her young children she drove forth into the night, while a terrible storm raged. The castle gates were barred fast against them; the serfs and vassals were forbidden to give them harborage under pain of death. Weak with much wandering, Elizabeth took sanctuary at last in that same hospital she had had built, near the city gates. Here she ended her life in days of service and prayer.
At the moment of her dying, there gathered many holy ones in the cloisters below, to chant the requiem for the repose of her soul. Above their chanting Elizabeth prayed her last prayer on earth in this wise:
"Now cometh the hour when Mother Maid Mary brought the Child Jesus into the world, and the star appeared on the east to guide the Wise Men to His cradle. He came to redeem the world-and He will redeem me. Now is the time when He rose from the dead and broke the prison doors of hell to release all imprisoned souls-and now will He release me.''
Copyright © 1996 Catholic Information Network (CIN) - November 25, 1996
BTTT on 11-17-04, Memorial of St. Elizabeth of Hungary.
Today is my 25th anniversary and, ironicallly, the town where we honeymooned at a church dedicated to this St. Elizabeth. She's always had a special "presence" in our family. Thank you for this post.
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November 17, 2004
 St. Elizabeth of Hungary
(1207-1231)
In her short life Elizabeth manifested such great love for the poor and suffering that she has become the patroness of Catholic charities and of the Secular Franciscan Order. The daughter of the King of Hungary, Elizabeth chose a life of penance and asceticism when a life of leisure and luxury could easily have been hers. This choice endeared her in the hearts of the common people throughout Europe. At the age of 14 Elizabeth was married to Louis of Thuringia (a German principality), whom she deeply loved; she bore three children. Under the spiritual direction of a Franciscan friar, she led a life of prayer, sacrifice and service to the poor and sick. Seeking to become one with the poor, she wore simple clothing. Daily she would take bread to hundreds of the poorest in the land, who came to her gate. After six years of marriage, her husband died in the Crusades, and she was grief-stricken. Her husband’s family looked upon her as squandering the royal purse, and mistreated her, finally throwing her out of the palace. The return of her husband’s allies from the Crusades resulted in her being reinstated, since her son was legal heir to the throne. In 1228 Elizabeth joined the Secular Franciscan Order, spending the remaining few years of her life caring for the poor in a hospital which she founded in honor of St. Francis. Elizabeth’s health declined, and she died before her 24th birthday in 1231. Her great popularity resulted in her canonization four years later. Quote:
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Salvation,Bump
I picked our youngest child's middle name for St. Elizabeth of Hungary--she is 5 months old today :) My 6 year old was St. Elizabeth for All Saints' this year (I put roses in her crown).
She may not have had a lengthy earthly life, but she has had an influence on us for over 7 centuries.
St. Elizabeth of Hungary, pray for us!
Thank you for posting this - it is a truly beautiful story. There was a time when little children were told stories of the lives of the saints like this - to inspire them, and to build their imaginations with good and Godly things.
Now we just have Disney.
A girl came to her house on Halloween dressed as a saint.
Johnette: "Which saint are you, dear?"
Girl: "St. Elizabeth!"
Johnette: "Which St. Elizabeth?"
Girl: "The hungry one!"
Thanks to you Lady In Blue for posting this blessed article and pictures.
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