The Life and Afterlife of St. Elizabeth of Hungary: Testimony from her Canonization Hearings

The Life and Afterlife of St. Elizabeth of Hungary

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The Life and Afterlife of St. Elizabeth of Hungary Testimony from Her Canonization Hearings

Translated with Notes and Interpretive Essays by

kenneth baxter wolf

1 2010

1 Oxford University Press, Inc., publishes works that further Oxford University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education. Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam

Copyright © 2010 by Oxford University Press, Inc. Published by Oxford University Press, Inc. 198 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016 www.oup.com Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Oxford University Press. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The life and afterlife of St. Elizabeth of Hungary: testimony from her canonization hearings / translated with notes and interpretive essays by Kenneth Baxter Wolf. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-19-973258-6 1. Elizabeth, of Hungary, Saint, 1207–1231. 2. Christian women saints—Hungary—Biography. I. Wolf, Kenneth Baxter, 1957– BX4700.E4S69 2010 282.092—dc22 [B] 2009047290

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

To the memory of Gustav Friedrich Wolf (1830–60), an immigrant

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Acknowledgments

This book represents the first fruits of a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities that I received in 2004–2005, allowing me to pursue my interest in “poverty saints.” My original intention had been to translate and study the lives of half a dozen such figures as a way of contextualizing my earlier work on St. Francis of Assisi. The more I delved into the sources related to Elizabeth of Hungary, the more I became fascinated by her particular story. In the end, the portion of the book dedicated to Elizabeth would not be contained within a single chapter, so I decided to give her a book of her own. This seemed to me to be a particularly propitious modification at the time, given the looming 800th anniversary of Elizabeth’s birth. As it turned out, another year of teaching intervened and then I began a three-year stint as associate dean, so this book is more likely to commemorate the 800th anniversary of Elizabeth’s arrival in Marburg. Beyond the NEH, I am grateful to Pomona College for supplementing the grant and for providing me with travel money that allowed me to visit Marburg for the first time in 1997 and again in 2009. In addition to its financial support, Pomona College has given me an academic context conducive to the kind of scholarly itineracy that has characterized my career as a whole. If I were not a professor at a liberal arts college with a small history department, I doubt that I would have felt as free to move from the martyrs of Córdoba, to the Normans in Sicily, to the poverty of St. Francis, to the canonization of St. Elizabeth. There are some liabilities to this shotgun approach to medieval history, but I believe that I am a better scholar for having

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done it this way. At the very least, I have never been bored. I would also like to acknowledge that handful of students at Pomona College who, taking my Medieval Latin Translation tutorial over the last few years, found themselves faced with various chunks of the Elizabeth corpus. Having to justify my interpretations to them made me more confident in my own translations. On more than one occasion, they saw things that I had missed. I want to thank the two anonymous readers of the original manuscript I submitted to Oxford University Press in 2008. The final product has benefited immensely from their thoughtful reading. Finally, it is unlikely that I, a self-styled medieval Mediterraneanist, would have been as receptive to the idea of studying a German saint were it not for the influence of Friederike Liese-Lotte von Franqué, who, among other things, helped me find my great-great grandfather Gustav, to whom this book is dedicated.

Preface

Elizabeth of Hungary, also known as Elizabeth of Thuringia, was born sometime in 1207, most likely in the town of Sárospatak.1 She was the second child of King Andrew II of Hungary and his Bavarian wife, Gertrude of Andechs-Meran.2 As a child of four, Elizabeth was betrothed to the future Landgrave of Thuringia and promptly sent to the Wartburg castle overlooking Eisenach to be raised in the court of Hermann I. She was only thirteen or fourteen when her marriage to Hermann’s son and heir Ludwig IV was consummated.3 Their first child—a son—was born the following year, and by the time Elizabeth turned twenty, she was pregnant with their second daughter. But less than three weeks before little Gertrude was born, 4 Ludwig died in Otranto while preparing to embark with

1. The most balanced, concise, and up-to-date biography of Elizabeth is Ortrud Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, Landgräfin und Heilige: eine Biografie (Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet, 2006). The year of Elizabeth’s birth can be deduced from Conrad of Marburg’s testimony, that she died the night of November 16/17, 1231, in her twenty-fifth year. Conrad, Summa Vitae, p. 3. Though Elizabeth’s birthplace is not indicated in the contemporary sources, Sárospatak—which was part of her mother’s holdings—has the best claim. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 49. 2. Being the daughter of Andrew, a member of the Arpadian dynasty that included the canonized Hungarian kings Stephen and Emeric—as well as of Gertrude, who was the sister of St. Hedwig of Silesia—Elizabeth benefited from an unusually holy bloodline that helped pave the way for her own canonization. For more on this phenomenon, see Gábor Klaniczay, Holy Rulers and Blessed Princesses: Dynastic Cults in Medieval Central Europe, Past and Present Publications (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). 3. Ludwig—who was six or seven years older than Elizabeth—was actually the second of Hermann I’s sons, but the eldest, also named Hermann, died on the last day of December 1216. Ludwig was subsequently named heir by his ailing father, who himself died on April 26, 1217. 4. Elizabeth’s son Hermann was born on May 28, 1222, her daughter Sophia on March 20, 1224, and her daughter Gertrude on September 29, 1227.

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Frederick II on Crusade.5 His young widow left the Wartburg, ultimately following her confessor and papally appointed guardian, Master Conrad, to Marburg. There, living under strict obedience to him, she founded and worked in a hospital similar to one that she had established in Eisenach while her husband was alive. Weakened, no doubt, by her close contact with the sick as well as her determination to live up to Conrad’s high ascetic standards, Elizabeth died in the early morning hours of November 17, 1231, at the age of twenty-four. Three and a half years later, during the feast of Pentecost (May 27) in 1235, Pope Gregory IX canonized her, issuing a bull to that effect five days later. On the following Pentecost (May 1, 1236), Elizabeth’s relics were translated from the hospital chapel, ultimately coming to rest in the new Gothic church in Marburg that was being built in her honor. Elizabeth’s canonization was not only quick but well documented. After a preliminary investigation in August 1232, a more formal, papally authorized commission convened in Marburg in January 1233, and again in January 1235. Part of this process involved interviewing four of Elizabeth’s closest associates, her so-called handmaids: Guda and Isentrud, who had lived with Elizabeth at the Wartburg while Ludwig was still alive, and Irmgard and Elizabeth, who had worked with her at the hospital in Marburg. Together, these witnesses offered the commission a series of remarkably intimate vignettes drawn from practically the entire span of Elizabeth’s short life. In them are captured everything from her love for Ludwig to her disdain for the life of privilege that came with her marriage; from her oath of obedience to Conrad to her repeated efforts to subvert his authority; from the joy of bathing lepers to her dreams of begging door to door the way the Franciscans did. Beyond the four handmaids, the papal commissioners in Marburg also summoned hundreds of people who had never met Elizabeth but who could speak with authority about the miracles they attributed to her intercession. When it convened in early 1233, the commission endorsed 106 such depositions. Two years later, it added twenty-four more. The Elizabeth that emerged from this testimony could not have been more different than the one described by the handmaids. Elizabeth the human being, struggling against the many obstacles that life had placed in the path of her spiritual journey, had become Elizabeth the saint, a member of the heavenly pantheon, mechanically responding to requests for her intercession from the people who sought cures for their maladies at her tomb. This stark contrast between St. Elizabeth during her life and St. Elizabeth during her afterlife encapsulates the curious interplay between individuality and homogeneity that characterized the medieval conception of sanctity as a

5. Ludwig set out from Thuringia for Italy on June 24, 1227, and died in Otranto on September 11, 1227, the victim of a fever that swept through the gathering forces.

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whole. During their lives, saints were expected to embody their own original, historically specific spins on Christian holiness. Once they were dead, it was understood that they would sacrifice much of their individuality and become for all intents and purposes interchangeable as far as their intercessory functions were concerned. The two essays I have written to introduce the depositions are designed to illustrate this general medieval phenomenon by considering one particularly instructive case from the early thirteenth century.6 More important than the essays, which explore how Elizabeth was seen by her contemporaries before and after her death, are the original texts that make up the bulk of this volume, for they provide exceptionally detailed, intimate portraits of real thirteenthcentury people. I am not just referring to Elizabeth as depicted by her handmaids. As flat and two-dimensional as “Elizabeth the saint” became in the eyes of the people whose cures she orchestrated, the stories they shared with the commissioners about their maladies and their efforts to enlist the aid of the new saint are full of very human moments. In the process of testifying to her intercessory powers, the witnesses managed to take on the very threedimensionality that they denied Elizabeth.7 The end result is a corpus of depositions that sheds an unusual amount of light across a broad swath of medieval German society, from the inhabitants of the landgrave’s castle in Thuringia to the denizens of rural hovels in Hesse. This project has benefited enormously from the work of scholars like Gábor Klaniczay, Michael Goodich, Donald Weinstein and Rudolph Bell, Pierre Delooz, Pierre-André Sigal, and André Vauchez, each of whom has produced, at some point over the last generation, a large-scale social scientific analysis of medieval sainthood based on data drawn from a broad spectrum of cults. Their bold synthetic treatments have allowed for the distillation and analysis of all the important trends in the history of sanctity, adding immeasurably to our understanding of medieval culture and, by extension, the medieval mind. Yet such broad insights gained from considering the forest as a whole naturally detract from the appreciation of any one tree. It is my hope that by focusing on the life and afterlife of a single saint like Elizabeth of Hungary, I have not only provided a useful case study to illustrate the points made by these important scholars but have, in the process, restored some of the intimacy lost when considering it all from such a distance. 6. On January 21, 2010, I presented a shorter version of the essay, “The Life of St. Elizabeth,” under the title “Memories and Models: St. Elizabeth of Hungary and the Dicta Quatuor Ancillarum” at the Medieval Institute of the University of Notre Dame, at the kind invitation of Olivia R. Constable. 7. Paul Gerhard Schmidt is right to compare the richness of the miracle accounts associated with Elizabeth with the inquisitorial records that allowed Le Roy Ladurie to reconstruct daily life in a late-medieval village in the Pyrenees. Schmidt, “Die zeitgenössische Überlieferung zum Leben und zur Heiligsprechung der heiligen Elisabeth,” Sankt Elisabeth: Fürstin, Dienerin, Heilige: Aufsätze, Dokumentation, Katalog, ed. C. Graepler, F. Schwind, and M. Werner (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke Verlag, 1981), p. 2. Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou: village occitan de 1294–1324 (Paris: Gallimard, 1975).

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Contents

On the Translations, xv Critical Editions of Translated Texts, xvii PART I: THE ESSAYS The Afterlife of St. Elizabeth, 3 The Life of St. Elizabeth, 43 PART II: THE SOURCES The Miracle List (August 1232), 83 Conrad of Marburg, Summa vitae (1232), 91 Miracle Depositions from the First Papal Commission (1233), 97 Miracle Depositions from the Second Papal Commission (1235), 169 Dicta quatuor ancillarum (January 1235), 193 Selected Bibliography, 217 Index, 227

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On the Translations

To my knowledge, the only other English translation of significant portions of the Elizabeth corpus is that of Nesta de Robeck, which appeared as an appendix to her book Saint Elizabeth of Hungary: A Story of Twenty-Four Years (Milwaukee: Bruce Publishing, 1954).1 De Robeck included the handmaids’ testimony, Conrad’s Summa vitae, brief selections from the miracle accounts, and the actual canonization decree. Though the translations are accurate enough, de Robeck’s tendency to paraphrase without warning has affected their reliability from a scholarly perspective. More significant is her omission of the bulk of the miracle accounts. My translations aspire first and foremost to fidelity to the original. Any compromises have been driven by clarity. In the interests of maintaining the homespun feel of the testimony as well as the structure imposed by the proceedings, I have resisted the temptation to clean up the texts too much. For the sake of consistency, I have left the names of the people mentioned in the depositions just as they appear in the texts—though 1. There are recent Hungarian, Italian, and French translations of the Elizabeth corpus: Tamás J. Horváth, ed., Magyarország virága: 13. századi források Árpád-házi Szent Erzsébet életéro˝ l (Flower of Hungary: 13th century sources on the life of Elizabeth of Hungary) [Középkori keresztény írók 3] (Budapest: Szent István Társulat, 2001); Lino Temperini, trans., Santa Elisabetta d’Ungheria secondo le fonti storiche (Rome: Editrice Franciscanum, 2006); Jacqueline Gréal, trans., Sainte Elisabeth de Hongrie: Documents et sources (Paris: Editions franciscaines, 2007). Jürgen Jansen has translated the depositions regarding Elizabeth’s miracles into German. Jansen, Medizinische Kasuistik in den “Miracula Sanctae Elyzabet:” Medizinhistorische Analyse und Übersetzung der Wunderprotokolle am Grab der Elisabeth von Thüringen (1207–31), Marburger Schriften zur Medizingeschichte, vol. 15 (Frankfurt: Verlag Peter Lang, 1985).

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I have regularly excised the Latinized “us” and “is” endings that were appended to some of the names—even in those cases where the parallels to modern German names are obvious. There are two exceptions to this rule. First, when two different spellings appear in reference to the same person in the same deposition, I have rendered them the same so as to avoid confusion. Second, when referring to historical individuals whom we know apart from their mention in the depositions, such as Elizabeth of Hungary or Conrad of Marburg, I have used the modern English version of their names. On the other hand, the place names mentioned in the text have been modernized throughout— insofar as the current equivalents are known—so that they are easier to locate on a detailed map of the region. For convenience of cross-referencing, I have taken the liberty of numbering the sections of the Summa vitae and the Dicta quatuor ancillarum. In the case of the former, I simply divided the text into three parts representing the three parts of Elizabeth’s life: her time at court, her time in Marburg, and the time right before her death. In the case of the latter, I numbered each of the vignettes offered by the handmaids and subdivided the one that is so much larger than the rest. In the notes, I translated all quotations taken from scholarly works written in languages other than English.

Critical Editions of Translated Texts

The Miracle List (August 1232) Arthur Wyß, Hessisches Urkundenbuch I (1207–1299): Urkundenbuch der Deutschordens-Ballei Hessen I. Publikationem aus den K. Preußischen Staatsarchiven 3 (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1879), 28, pp. 25–29. Conrad of Marburg, Summa vitae (1232) Wyß, Hessisches Urkundenbuch I, 34, pp. 31–35. Also Albert Huyskens, Quellenstudien zur Geschichte der Hl. Elisabeth: Landgräfin von Thüringen (Marburg: N. G. Elwert’sche: 1908), pp. 155–60. The Miracle Depositions from the First Papal Commission (1233) Huyskens, Quellenstudien, pp. 155–239. The Miracle Depositions from the Second Papal Commission (1235) Huyskens, Quellenstudien, pp. 243–66. Dicta quatuor ancillarum (based on depositions taken in January 1235) Huyskens, Quellenstudien, pp. 112–40; and Albert Huyskens, Der sogenannte Libellis de dictis quatuor ancillarum S. Elisabeth confectus (Kempten and Munich, 1911), pp. 1–86. The 1911 edition includes both the earlier redaction of the handmaids’ testimony (referred to in the present volume as the Dicta

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quatuor ancillarum) and the later one (Libellus de dictis quatuor ancillarum), redacted sometime between 1236 and 1241, which includes a prologue, a conclusion, and occasional elucidations that are not found in the earlier one. The present translation is based on the earlier, Dicta version as edited by Huyskens in Quellenstudien.

part i

The Essays

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The Afterlife of St. Elizabeth

Medieval theologians operated under the official assumption that no one but God could ever be certain as to the identity of his saints. But this did not kept the faithful from trying to figure out who among them might turn out to be worthy of that distinction.1 Toward this end, the Christian community came to rely on empirical evidence of two very different kinds: evidence of holy behavior during the life of the suspected saint and evidence of miracle activity after his or her death.2 Though the expectation was that any true saint would meet both of these criteria, indications of the latter were taken more seriously than evidence of the former when it came to making a case for sanctity.3 This was certainly true in the early Middle Ages when new cults relied primarily on the spread of a fama sanctitatis, which, 1. As Pierre Delooz has pointed out, “Even today, one becomes a saint through and by others. This is, without a doubt, the only element found to be invariable for all saints: they are saints because others have thought them to be saints.” Pierre Delooz, Sociologie et canonisations, Collection scientifique de la faculté de droit de I’Université de Liège, 30 (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1969), p. 27. 2. Innocent III made this distinction in a bull that he issued on January 12, 1199, canonizing Homobonus of Cremona: “Although . . . the grace of final perseverance alone is required for sanctity in the church triumphant, . . . in the church militant two things are necessary: the power of moral behavior [virtus morum] and the power of signs [virtus signorum], that is, works of piety during life and miracles after death.” Die Register Innocenz’ III, ed. Othmar Hageneder and Anton Haidacher, 2 vols. (Graz: Böhlau, 1964), vol. 1, p. 762. Quoted by Aviad M. Kleinberg, Prophets in Their Own Country: Living Saints and the Making of Sainthood in the Later Middle Ages (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), p. 27. See also André Vauchez, Sainthood in the Later Middle Ages, trans. Jean Birrell [originally published: La sainteté en Occident aux derniers siècles du Moyen Age (Rome: Ecole française de Rome, 1988)] (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), p. 36. 3. This was partly a function of the fact that “the Catholic church only accorded public worship to the dead.” Delooz, Sociologie et canonisations, p. 9. Though saints might well gain reputations for holiness while alive, actual veneration was officially reserved until they had died and they

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for all intents and purposes, took the form of reports of healings associated with the would-be saint’s tomb. Even as the papacy began to formalize and then monopolize the saint-making process in the later twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, 4 posthumous miracles remained the sine qua non of any successful case of sanctification. The logic was simple: although it was conceivable that an unholy person might feign saintly behavior, even going so far as to work wonders that resembled miracles,5 it was unimaginable that the body of such a person could ever be the locus of miracle activity after death.6 Posthumous miracles were imagined to be the unimpeachable product of a successful act of intercession, with the saint acting as a kind of mediator between a human petitioner and God. According to this line of reasoning, for God to have responded favorably and allowed the miracle to happen, the request would have had to have come from one of His elect. This bias in favor of empirical signs of effective intercession explains why the initial stages of canonization—we are speaking of the papal version of this process that has monopolized saint-making since the beginning of the thirteenth century 7—were traditionally preoccupied could be “tested.” “The Catholic church sees in the [posthumous] miracle—which it considers to be real—a supernatural sign authorizing it to render a public veneration to a person.” Delooz, Sociologie et canonisations, p. 119. 4. Elizabeth is a good example of one of these novi sancti, whose canonization was the result of a papally driven process. Hers was one of fourteen canonizations initiated during Gregory IX’s pontificate (1227–41). By the 1260s, such receptivity on the part of Rome to new saints had already begun to cool. Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 6, 106–12, 138. Gábor Klaniczay, “Proving Sanctity in the Canonization Processes (Saint Elizabeth and Saint Margaret of Hungary),” in Procès de canonisation au Moyen Âge: aspects juridiques et réligieux/Medieval Canonization Processes: Legal and Religious Aspects, ed. Gábor Klaniczay, Collection de l’Ecole Française de Rome, vol. 340 (Rome: Ecole Française de Rome, 2004), pp. 117–18. Elizabeth’s “newness” as a saint was not just a function of the pope’s direct role in her process. Elizabeth and her aunt, St. Hedwig (d. 1243), share the distinction of being the only two married women who were canonized despite not entering a cloister after the deaths of their husbands. Klaniczay, Holy Rulers, pp. 196, 198–99, 209. 5. 2 Corinthians 11:13–14: “For such false apostles are deceitful workmen, transforming themselves into the apostles of Christ. And no wonder: for Satan himself transformed himself into an angel of light.” Innocent III cited this text in support of his insistence on miracles as the sine qua non of canonization. Michael Goodich, “Reason or Revelation? The Criteria for the Proof and Credibility of Miracles in Canonization Processes,” in Procès de canonisation au Moyen Âge: aspects juridiques et réligieux/Medieval Canonization Processes: Legal and Religious Aspects, ed. Gábor Klaniczay, Collection de l’Ecole Française de Rome, vol. 340 (Rome: Ecole Française de Rome, 2004), p. 190. For examples of medieval French saints whose miracle working as living saints led to suspicions of diabolical inspiration, see Pierre-André Sigal, L’homme et le miracle dans la France médiévale, XI–XIIème siècles (Paris: Cerf, 1985), pp. 212–13. As we see in the next chapter, the original sources pertaining to Elizabeth’s cause make no mention of any healing miracles while she was alive. Her thaumaturgical interventions were entirely posthumous. 6. “According to Christian tradition, the saints, in compensation for their merits and the sufferings they endured, were rewarded by God with a force (virtus) which remained present and continued to act in their remains after death. This conception of sainthood and its reward was universally accepted in the later Middle Ages.” Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 425. 7. Although papal canonizations became more common in the twelfth century, the actual papal monopolization of the process was a product of the thirteenth. It was only then that the canonists began to refer to Alexander III’s letter (1171/72) to the king of Sweden in which, among other things, he criticized some Swedish subjects for venerating as a saint a man who had been killed while drunk. “Even if prodigies and miracles were produced through his intermediary,” observed the pope, “you would not be permitted to venerate him publicly as a saint without the authorization of the Roman church.” Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 25. In 1234 (the year before Elizabeth’s canonization), this portion of Alexander’s letter found its way into the Decretals of Gregory IX (Audivimus) and thereafter became the cornerstone of papal claims to controlling the canonization process. After that year, episcopal canonizations disappear altogether. Ibid., pp. 30–32. For a

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with the collection and verification of miraculous healings performed after the death of a would-be saint.8 The dossier that was prepared on Elizabeth of Hungary’s behalf is no exception. As can be seen from a simple glance at the translated texts in this volume, for every page that describes how Elizabeth lived her life, there are three recounting the miracles associated with her tomb. Given this, it comes as no surprise that the earliest reliable sources pertaining to Elizabeth’s canonization are simple lists of miracles attributed to her intercession.9 In a letter to Pope Gregory IX, Elizabeth’s confessor and guardian, Conrad of Marburg, described how the most significant of these lists came about. On August 10, 1232, Conrad was giving a sermon in Marburg to commemorate the dedication of two altars in the new hospital chapel that had been built to allow pilgrims better access to Elizabeth’s remains.10 Taking advantage of the opportunity provided by the presence of Archbishop Siegfried of Mainz11 and other ecclesiastical dignitaries, Conrad publicly bid “any who

brief overview of the evolution of the canonization process in this period, see André Vauchez, “Les origines et le développement du procès de canonisation (XIIe–XIIIe siècles),” Vita religiosa im Mittelalter: Festschrift für Kaspar Elm zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. Franz J. Felten and Nikolas Jaspert [Berliner Historische Studien, 31] (Berlin: Duncker and Humbolt, 1999), pp. 845–56. Aviad Kleinberg has shown how different this new, highly legalistic canonization procedure was, in contrast not only to early medieval Christian practices but to Jewish and Muslim ones as well. Aviad Kleinberg, “Canonization without a Canon,” in Procès de canonisation au Moyen Âge: aspects juridiques et réligieux/Medieval Canonization Processes: Legal and Religious Aspects, ed. Gábor Klaniczay, Collection de l’Ecole Française de Rome, vol. 340 (Rome: Ecole Française de Rome, 2004), pp. 7–18. 8. This juridical emphasis on miracles as evidence in cases of canonization was consistent with contemporary ideas about sancity. As Vauchez has concluded, “for the vast majority of the contemporaries of Innocent III, sainthood was defined essentially, if not exclusively, as a collection of supernatural powers, chief of which was healing the sick.” Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 36. The expectation of miraculous cures occurring at the tombs of saints was a remarkably consistent feature of medieval Christianity from early on. “In the collections of miracles from the Merovingian and Carolingian periods, the virtus of a saint is a force which acts in a given place: it was enough to visit and touch the tomb of a servant of God to be healed. At the beginning of the thirteenth century, these ideas had lost none of their potency.” Ibid., p. 444. Over the course of the thirteenth century, “the importance attached to the virtues and the reputation of the candidates [as opposed to their ability to produce miracles] tended to grow.” Ibid., p. 47. Klaniczay speculates that this shift was related to the rise in inf luence of the mendicant orders, to the extent that “testimonials to the personal virtues of the godly deceased tended to eclipse—though they by no means eliminated—the significance of the miracles (particularly the miracles attributed to relics) as proofs of saintliness.” Klaniczay, Holy Rulers, p. 232. If this is true, then Elizabeth should be considered a transitional figure, given the amount of attention paid to the cures that occurred at her shrine. 9. The very earliest of these miracle lists has come down to us with little to work with in the way of historical context. It has twelve entries—one of them describing two cures, for a total of thirteen miracles—but the list is so lean that the only consistent data it provides are the type of malady in question and the gender of the person cured. Despite its limitations, its anonymous compiler at least provided dates for eight of the thirteen miracles, ranging from November 20, 1231, to March 18, 1232. In other words, the list could have been compiled as early as late March 1232, in which case it would predate by five months the list of sixty miracles recorded by Conrad the following August. The list survives as a thirteenth-century addition to a twelfth-century manuscript of Isidore’s Etymologies from the Benedictine monastery of Liesborn in Westphalia. Albert Huyskens, Quellenstudien zur Geschichte der Hl. Elisabeth: Landgräfin von Thüringen (Marburg: N. G. Elwert’sche, 1908), pp. 92–94, 150. 10. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 170. 11. Conrad would have needed the full support of the local bishop, in this case, Archbishop Siegfried II of Mainz, who had regularly quarreled with the landgraves Hermann and Ludwig over the status of the territory in Hesse that they held as a fief from him. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, pp. 60–61. One of Ludwig’s motivations for taking the cross (spring 1224) may have been to take advantage of the protections that his

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were present there who had received cures on account of the merits of the landgravine, to present themselves, along with any witnesses that they might be able to produce, to the lord archbishop of Mainz and to the other prelates who had gathered for the dedication, at the first hour of the following day, to be faithfully certified as to the graces that they had received upon invoking Elizabeth.”12 According to Conrad, “no small crowd of people” gathered the following morning in response to this impromptu summons. The result was a list of sixty miracles recorded on August 11, 1232, by a hastily formed panel made up of “the abbots of Arnsburg and Bildhausen of the Cistercian order; the abbots of Rommersdorf, Arnstein, and Cappel of the Premonstratensian order; the priors of St. Stephen of Bingen and of Werberg; the deacon of Momberg; and the preachers Master Conrad of Marburg and Brother Angel of the Friars Minor.”13 Because Conrad was the driving force behind this preliminary inquiry, it behooves us to consider his stake in the process. Beyond his personal ties to Elizabeth,14 Conrad regarded the miracle activity that had been associated with her body over the previous nine months as a refreshing sign of continued divine activity in a country rife with heresy.15 In a prefatory letter addressed to the pope, Conrad wrote: In the region of Germany, where the orthodox faith had typically flourished, the virulent seed of heretical depravity began to sprout and spread most dangerously. But Christ, who does not allow his own to be tempted beyond their power,16 raised up various kinds of torments and death for the sake of overcoming the pertinacity of the heretics, crushing and refuting them in a most marvelous manner, while at the same time revealing the truth of our faith through a

status as a crusader afforded him against territorial encroachment by the archbishop. Wilhelm Maurer, “Zum Verständnis der heiligen Elisabeth von Thüringen,” Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte 65 (1953–54), pp. 24–28. 12. Conrad’s summons appears in the prefatory letter that introduced his Summa vitae. 13. Referred to in the present volume as Miracle List (August 1232). The commission’s task was to conduct a preliminary assessment of Elizabeth’s candidacy for sainthood by enlisting local diocesan authorities to determine whether there was evidence of a local fama sanctitatis that would justify a more formal, papally administered inquiry. Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 42, n. 40. 14. To be explored shortly. 15 Gregory IX felt the same way, as is evident from the bull Gloriosus in majestate sua (June 1, 1235), with which he officially canonized Elizabeth: “Her light illuminates the darkness by means of miracles, showing the faithful a way to follow and confounding the heretics.” Quoted in Robert Folz, Les saintes reines du Moyen Âge en occident (VIe–XIIIe siècles), Subsidia Hagiographica, 76 (Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, 1992), p. 114. Klaniczay, in “Proving Sanctity,” p. 122, has identified other connections between thirteenth-century saint cults and the campaign against heresy, the best example being Jacques de Vitry’s biography of the beguine saint Marie d’Oignies, which was inspired by a request of the bishop of Toulouse for a model of sanctity that could be used to counter heresy in southern France. For a detailed analysis at the connections between Gregory’s and Conrad’s efforts against heresy and their promotion of Elizabeth’s cause, see Dyan Elliott’s chapter “Elizabeth of Hungary: Between Men,” in her Proving Woman: Female Spirituality and Inquisitional Culture in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2004), pp. 85–116. 16. 1 Corinthians 10:13.

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great many miracles and exercises of power,17 worked repeatedly and magnificiently to the glory and honor of that lady of happy memory, Elizabeth, the former landgravine of Thuringia.18 We have ordered some of these, reported to us in good faith by witnesses testifying under oath, to be recorded for your paternity.19 Given what we know about his role as a preacher, enlisted by three consecutive popes in the struggle against heresy in Germany,20 it makes sense that Conrad would draw attention to the miracles associated with this new saint as a part of his campaign to shore up orthodoxy in the region.21 Though Conrad’s makeshift commission seems to have heard actual depositions that August day, it did not bother to transcribe them in any detail, opting instead for brief summaries that included the place of origin of the miracle seeker, the type of malady from which he or she suffered, and whether the cure had been effected in conjunction with a visit to Elizabeth’s tomb. The point seems to have been to provide the pope with just enough information to prompt a more systematic inquiry in the future. Unfortunately the report suffers from inconsistency as well as brevity. Only thirty-four of the entries include the name of the main witness—typically the one who had benefited from the miracle or a close relative of the same—and even fewer (thirty-two) identify the secondary ones. Much more unfortunate for our purposes is the fact that only eight entries include the dates on which the miracles occurred. The earliest of these describes a cure that took place on Maundy Thursday, which, in 1232, fell on April 8, a little less than five months after Elizabeth’s death.22 Three

17. As if to illustrate this point, one of the miracles attributed to Elizabeth involved the healing of a woman who had been a Waldensian but had repented before seeking the saint’s intercession. Miracle Depositions (1233), 14. 18. This is consistent with Vauchez’s contention that the thirteenth century, which featured a dramatic rise in the canonization and cultic veneration of recent saints, was a time when medieval Europeans were predisposed to see “an upsurge of violence on the part of the forces of evil and an outpouring of grace within the Church to combat it.” The papacy’s efforts to combat heresy meant not only enlisting the aid of preachers like Conrad of Marburg and Dominic de Guzmán, but promoting new saintly models. “To combat dualistic doctrines and demonstrate to the masses the superiority of orthodoxy, the Church was in dire need, in the first two-thirds of the thirteenth century, of Christian perfection.” Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 111–12. 19. Prefatory letter to the Miracle List (August 1232). 20. Innocent III, Honorius III, and Gregory IX. Caesarius of Heisterbach included a brief sketch of Conrad’s career in his vita of Elizabeth—written between May 1236 (Elizabeth’s translation) and his own death, c. 1240—the principal focus of which is Conrad’s indefatigable efforts to extirpate heresy in Germany. Caesarius of Heisterbach, Life of St. Elizabeth, ed. Albert Huyskens, Die Schriften über die Heilige Elisabeth von Thüringen: Das Leben der heiligen Elisabeth; Die Predigt über ihre Translation [Alfons Hilka, ed., Die Wundergeschichten des Caesarius von Heisterbach, Vol. III (Bonn: Peter Hanstein, 1937)], pp. 345–81. 21. Conrad literally gave his life in this papal campaign against heresy. When his inquisitorial investigations led him to suspect members of the local nobility—specifically Count Henry of Sayn—Conrad became a target. He and a companion, a Franciscan named Gerhard Lutzelkolb, were murdered on July 30, 1233. For more on the circumstances and consequences of Conrad’s assassination, see Elliott, Proving Woman, pp. 97–99. 22. Though the year is not specified, it would have to have been 1232, given the termini provided by Elizabeth’s death (November 17, 1231) at one end, and the date of these hearings (August 11, 1232) at the other.

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others occurred on the subsequent feast of the Dispersion of the Apostles, July 15. We are also told that two boys were healed as the crowd was gathering to hear Conrad’s sermon on August 10, St. Lawrence’s Day. Finally, two of the entries refer to the feast of St. John, one describing a cure that occurred on the feast itself and the other recounting the resuscitation of a drowned man a week later, on the octave of St. John.23 Though the text is ambiguous as to the “John” is question—John the Baptist (June 24) or the John the Apostle (December 27)—we know the author was referring to the former because the miracle that occurred on the “octave of St. John” is recounted again in a later deposition, one that explicitly refers to the feast of John the Baptist. 24 The only other references to dates in the list of sixty miracles are relative ones: both miracles 39 and 40 begin with the phrase “On the same day,” as if in reference to the date of the previous miracle. Unfortunately miracle 38 does not come with a date. Happily, another parallel with the later depositions confirms that miracle 39 on Conrad’s list also occurred on the Feast of St. John the Baptist, which means that miracle 40—and presumably 38—can be safely assigned to that date as well.25 The commission was more careful about noting the places of origin of those who were healed, thus providing us with a sense of Elizabeth’s “draw” at this early stage in her cult’s history. Not surprisingly, Marburg contributed the single largest number of miracle seekers: six. All but twelve of the remaining fifty-four localities lie within a fifty-kilometer radius26 of the shrine and are fairly evenly distributed within this circle: very few appear more than once; only one—Grünberg, which contributed three27—appears more than twice. The three cities of origin that lie the furthest from Marburg are Dilsberg, at 160 kilometers, and Cologne and Worms, at 125.28 The only other type of information found in the sixty entries is the nature of the malady. The largest subsets involve people who were crippled in one way or another (twenty-three) or blind in one or both eyes (sixteen). Beyond these, the successful petitioners include four who suffered from some form of mental illness, three with humps on their backs, and three with fistulas. In addition, we meet two people who are mute, two who are deaf, two who are afflicted with epilepsy, one with a disease of the abdomen, one with discharges of the eye and the ear, one with dropsy, and one whose face had been eaten 23. Miracle List (August 1232) 37, 41. The octave of a feast day refers to the eighth day after the feast in question. Because it was traditional to begin counting on the feast itself, its octave occurred exactly a week later. 24. Miracle List (August 1232) 41; Miracle Depositions (1233) 10. 25. Miracle List (August 1232) 39; Miracle Depositions (1233) 3. Of the undated cures, only one on this list is to be found on the earlier list of thirteen miracles: the one involving the deaf nun, which according to that list, happened on February 15, 1232. See note 9. 26. These geographical observations were greatly facilitated by the map accompanying Sankt Elisabeth: Fürstin, Dienerin, Heilige. 27. Miracle List (August 1232) 26, 46, 58. 28. Miracle List (August 1232) 8, 10, 42.

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away by worms.29 In addition to healings, the list includes six cases of people being revived after being thought dead. The one miracle that has nothing to do with restoring health or life is actually a double miracle, involving the miraculous release from captivity of a prisoner and the equally amazing return of the horse he commandeered to effect his escape.30 Reading between the lines allows us to fill out some of the basic demographic information about the people cured. The gender of the adjectives and participles permits us to state with certainty that thirty-two of those who benefited from miracles were male and twenty-eight female. Although only eleven of the entries record ages, we can deduce from the use of puer and puella that at least a third of the cures involved children. There is very little information about occupation. The list as a whole contains single references to a priest, a nun, a “religious woman,” a carpenter, a prisoner, and a schoolboy. Otherwise those cured are identified simply as “man,” “woman,” “boy,” or “girl.” The fact that the text specifically identifies the handful of knights who were witnesses in three of the entries suggests that the commission was sensitive to social class, even if only in the most binary way.31 Given that so many of those cured were people from small villages and yet none of them are identified as knights, we can safely assume that the healings were confined to the populo minuto of the rural countryside. The makeshift commission was reasonably careful to note whether the cures in question had taken place at Elizabeth’s tomb (twenty-six cases) or simply through the invocation of her name uttered somewhere other than her shrine (twenty-one). In either case this helped establish the role of Elizabeth—as opposed to some other saint—in securing these particular “graces.” The specific details of these invocations are only rarely noted. In one case, the mother of a crippled girl effects her daughter’s cure by visiting the tomb on her behalf.32 In another we read that the man whose face had been eaten away by worms was cured “when dirt from the tomb of Sister Elizabeth was applied to the wounds.”33 The fact that so many of these cures involved actual visits to Elizabeth’s tomb accounts for the frequency with which members of the hospital and shrine “staff” appear as witnesses. They included the supervisors of the hospital34 (mentioned four times); the rectors of the hospital35 (three times); Crafto, one of the priests at the hospital (three times);

29. Some of these people suffered from more than one malady; hence the number of aff lictions exceeds the number of depositions. 30. Miracle List (August 1232) 36. 31. Miracle List (August 1232) 19 (one), 27 (three), 35 (“many”). In a fourth account (36), a prisoner f lees on a knight’s horse. 32. Miracle List (August 1232) 19. See 50 for the only other direct reference to a vow. 33. Miracle List (August 1232) 14. 34. Provisores hospitalis. 35. Rectores hospitalis.

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the landgrave and “younger landgrave”36 (twice); and Conrad of Marburg himself (five times). The list of sixty miracles that Conrad sent to Gregory IX served its purpose, prompting a letter from the pope, sent from Anagni on October 13, authorizing an official canonization process.37 The pope charged Archbishop Siegfried of Mainz, Abbot Raimund of Eberbach, and Conrad of Marburg to staff the commission. It convened the following January 1233, and after hearing more than 600 witnesses, recorded 102 accounts of miracles attributed to Elizabeth.38 After the archbishop and abbot left, Conrad stayed a bit longer, gathering a group of local churchmen so he could continue interviewing; thus, 4 more miracles were added to the list for a total of 106. In a note to the pope that was appended to the first 102 miracles, Conrad lamented that the time allotted to conduct the interviews was simply too short to process all of the claims being made at the time. He explained that in some cases the witnesses lived too far away to be able to come and testify. Others made it to Marburg only to be deprived of their opportunity to testify due to the sheer numbers of people who were waiting to do so or the lack of readily available food and lodging. There were good rhetorical reasons for exaggerating the number of people who came to offer testimony, but it is nevertheless credible, given the limits of time and logistics, that the commission only heard a subset of those who could have testified. Of the ones that were given a chance to speak, of course, only the convincing ones would have been included in the final report. A comparison of the 106 depositions39 gathered by this commission with the miracle list that Conrad had prepared five months earlier yields some overlap, which becomes apparent when one juxtaposes accounts of miracles that refer to people from the same villages and towns. We already noted two such cases—one involving the crippled girl from Büdingen and another the victim of a drowning accident in Medebach—when we were pinpointing the St. John’s Day miracles on Conrad’s original list. 40 There are others as well. Conrad’s list of miracles includes a case of dropsy involving a nun from the convent of Böddeken whose cure was witnessed by an anonymous priest. In the fuller deposition, the woman is identified as “Adelheid, a canoness at Böddeken,” and

36. That is, the late landgrave Ludwig’s two younger brothers: Heinrich Raspe, who was serving as regent on behalf of Ludwig’s son, and Conrad, who would soon join the Teutonic Knights and become the driving force behind Elizabeth’s canonization. 37. More specifically Gregory authorized an inquisitio in partibus, that is, an official inquiry conducted by papal legates in the very region (hence, in partibus) where the fama sanctitatis originated and was most concentrated. Gabor Klaniczay, “Speaking about Miracles: Oral Testimony and Written Record in Medieval Canonization Trials,” The Development of Literate Mentalities in East Central Europe [The Fourth Utrecht Symposium on Medieval Literacy, 2001] (Turnout: Brepols, 2004), p. 366. 38. The hearings extended into February. The latest miracle reported by this commission actually occurred on February 1, 1233. 39. Referred to in the present volume as Miracle Depositions (1233). 40. Miracle List (August 1232) 39, and Miracle Depositions (1233) 3; Miracle List (August 1232) 41, and Miracle Depositions (1233) 10.

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the priest turns out to be her confessor, Alboldo, who, as he himself admitted to the commission, despaired of the woman’s life before Elizabeth interceded. 41 One of the more anemic entries on Conrad’s miracle list reads: “Wigand of Grünberg, a cripple, was healed.” The same Wigand surfaces again in the sixtyninth deposition, describing in detail how he had become lame in one leg and that it had taken him five weeks just to cover the thirty kilometers separating his town from Marburg. 42 In yet another parallel entry, Henric of Marburg appears in Conrad’s miracle list simply as a man who had been blind for three years. The corresponding deposition captures some of what his life was like as he was going blind, his friends laughing at him for veering off the road and ending up in the middle of a field. 43 In some cases we find new witnesses being interviewed about the same miracle. One entry on Conrad’s list features Eberhard of Marburg testifying about the fistulas in his daughter’s ears. The following January the daughter appeared before the commission as the main witness, describing firsthand the debilitating effects of her condition, now described as “black pustules on one part of her head.”44 Elsewhere Iremgard of Altenkirch, who served as the main witness in 1232, was a secondary witness in 1233, her husband serving as the main one this time around. 45 In some cases the details of the two versions do not quite match. For instance, we find Heinric of Roth described in the miracle list of 1232 as an eighteen-year-old who was lame in one leg and covered with fistulas. In the depositions, we meet him again, still on crutches and covered with sores, but this time only sixteen. 46 Similarly the crippled son of Sophia of Feldbach managed to age two years in the five months that separated her two encounters with Conrad. 47 As diligent as the commissioners were in complying with the papal request for more information about Elizabeth’s posthumous miracle activity, their efforts elicited no immediate response from the pope. The untimely death of Conrad, the driving force behind the push for Elizabeth’s canonization, on July 30, 1233 certainly did not help speed things up. In his place stepped Elizabeth’s brother-in-law Conrad, who, along with Hermann of Salza, the grand master of the Teutonic Knights, met with the pope during the summer of 1234 and convinced him to hand over jurisdiction of Elizabeth’s hospital and church— now bereft of Conrad of Marburg’s supervision—to the military order. 48 The 41. Miracle List (August 1232) 21 and Miracle Depositions (1233) 67. 42. Miracle List (August 1232) 26 and Miracle Depositions (1233) 69. 43. Miracle List (August 1232) 50 and Miracle Depositions (1233) 21. 44. Miracle List (August 1232) 57 and Miracle Depositions (1233) 39. 45. Miracle List (August 1232) 56 and Miracle Depositions (1233) 20. 46. Miracle List (August 1232) 48 and Miracle Depositions (1233) 95. 47. Miracle List (August 1232) 1 and Miracle Depositions (1233) 15. Isentrud of Zeppenfeld, whose drowning was recounted in Miracle Depositions (1233) 47, may be the same at the daughter of Elizabeth of “Zekenvelt” in Miracle List (August 1232) 53. But in the earlier account, the mother is identified as Elizabeth; in the latter, Demud. 48. Caesarius of Heisterbach, Sermon on the Translation of St. Elizabeth, ed. Albert Huyskens, Die Schriften über die Heilige Elisabeth von Thüringen: Das Leben der heiligen Elisabeth; Die Predigt über ihre

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following November, Conrad officially abdicated his part of the Thuringian regency that he shared with Heinrich Raspe and entered the Teutonic Knights himself. 49 By then, Gregory IX had already sent a letter, dated October 11, 1234, charging Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim and Abbot Hermann of Georgenthal to resume the inquiry. The pope made it clear that he expected the results of their investigation to be in his hands in a timely fashion—that is, within five months. The new commission began its interviews on January 1, 1235, and produced its report shortly thereafter. The new inquiry yielded twenty-four additional full-length depositions as well as official confirmation of many of the earlier ones.50 The brief preface states that the new commission’s plan was to present its findings “in four distinct categories,” the first made up of those twenty-four miracles “verified by witnesses in the presence of Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim and Abbot Hermann of Georgenthal.” With the exception of one deposition involving a young humpbacked girl from Wetzlar whose story had already been included by the commission of 1233, all of the additional miracle accounts appear to have been new ones.51 One of these involved a partially blind woman from Wetzlar who had testified before the previous commission in 1233 but whose deposition had been removed from the official report for lack of sufficient witnesses. It was included in the 1235 proceedings precisely because the new commission was satisfied that it had all the testimony it needed the second time around.52 . Two of the new depositions of 1235 were actually recorded before Bishop Conrad even convened his commission in Marburg. The first one recounts how, when the bishop was a guest at the Cistercian abbey of Amelungsborn not far from Hildesheim, he learned that one of its monks had been miraculously cured of epilepsy.53 According to the monk, Elizabeth had appeared to him in a vision and let him know that if he wanted to be cured, he should vow to dedicate himself to her. The monk did just that, despite the prohibitions in the Benedictine Rule against monks swearing oaths without the abbot’s

Translation [Alfons Hilka, ed., Die Wundergeschichten des Caesarius von Heisterbach, Vol. III (Bonn: Peter Hanstein, 1937)], pp. 381–90. In his letter to Queen Beatrice of Castile, Gregory IX recounted that Elizabeth’s brother-in-law Conrad attributed to her intercession his success at overcoming the vice of lust, thus precipitating his decision to join the Teutonic Knights. Lucien Auvray, ed., Les Registres de Grégoire IX, 4 vols. (Paris: Albert Fontemoing, 1896–1955), June 7, 1235, no. 2648. 49. Conrad of Thuringia succeeded Hermann of Salza as Hochmeister of the Teutonic Knights in 1239. 50. Referred to in the present volume as Miracle Depositions (1235). 51. Deposition 8 from the 1235 commission describes the same cure of the humpbacked girl as deposition 22 from the 1233 commission. There is also some overlap between the depositions of 1235 and Conrad’s Miracle List of August 1232. Miracle Depositions (1235) 10 certainly corresponds to Miracle List (August 1232) 15, and it is possible, but not verifiable, that Miracle Depositions (1235) 7 corresponds to Miracle List (August 1232) 5, and that Miracle Depositions (1235) 10 or 11 corresponds to Miracle List (August 1232) 15. 52. Miracle Depositions (1235) 7. It is unfortunate that the text is not as detailed as it might have been about the exact criteria used to discount this miracle the first time around, since there are other miracles among the original 106 that “made the cut” despite a lack of multiple witnesses, for instance, Miracle Depositions (1233) 92 and 94. 53. Miracle Depositions (1235) 1.

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permission, and was healed. Reprimanded for violating the rule, the monk experienced a relapse until the abbot, recognizing the hand of the saint at work, let him fulfill his vow by visiting Elizabeth’s tomb. Learning of this during his stay at the monastery, Bishop Conrad took the opportunity to interview twelve monks on the spot and later summoned the abbot and prior to Marburg to testify before the commission. The next deposition, which documents the healing of a sick boy from the nearby village of Goldbeck, was also investigated by the bishop independently of the commission. According to the account, the boy’s mother was “summoned into the presence of the bishop of Hildesheim who was passing through that place,”54 and gave her testimony at that time. It is possible that other depositions were gathered in this manner while the bishop was on the road, but only the first two actually refer to this ad hoc procedure. Appended to the twenty-four new depositions is a list of thirty-seven miracles described under a separate rubric as “second-order” miracles, that is, ones that “were affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach, formerly coexaminer by apostolic authority with the lord bishop of Mainz and Master Conrad, and by his monk Wilhelm, who had recorded the miracles in the first examination.” These miracles, the preface goes on to state, were certified in the presence of the two members of the new commission “during a second examination.” It is not clear exactly what this second examination entailed, apart from simply asking Abbot Raimund and his notary, Wilhelm, to swear to the legitimacy of the depositions that they had taken two years before.55 The fact that only a little more than a third of the original 106 miracles are accounted for in this way suggests that Raimund and Wilhelm may have had a direct hand in hearing only a portion of the depositions in 1233. Perhaps the task had been divided between Raimund, Conrad, and Siegfried of Mainz, operating separately, either simultaneously or in shifts. Or it could be that the text is incomplete. Although the preface claims that forty-three such miracles received this official stamp of approval, only thirty-seven are included. Moreover, whereas the preface to the depositions of 1235 promises “four distinct categories of miracles,” the surviving text offers only two. The 130 depositions (106 plus 24) recorded by the two consecutive papal commissions of January 1233 and January 1235 are far more detailed than the miracle list that preceeded them. Gregory IX made sure of that when he commissioned the original team of investigators, adding the following guidelines to his letter of October 13, 1232. The legitimate witnesses who are to be heard regarding the life, conduct, and miracles of the said Elizabeth, formerly landgravine of Thuringia, are, once they have taken an oath, to be diligently examined 54. Miracle Depositions (1235) 2. 55. This theory is supported by the fact that most of the entries in this list begin “A miracle affirmed under oath by the abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm.”

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and interrogated concerning everything they say: how they know [what they know]; when [the events that they describe happened], both month and day; in whose presence and in what place they happened; the names of those in whose presence miracles were said to have been performed; whether they had seen [the beneficiaries of the cures] before, when they were ill, and how long they had suffered from their maladies; and what was their origin; and they should be interrogated diligently about all the circumstances [surrounding the cures] . . . and the testimonies and the words of the witnesses should be faithfully rendered in writing.56 It was, in short, to be a legal process based entirely on the testimony of eyewitnesses whose identities and relationships to the events were to be carefully recorded and whose accounts were to be subjected to some scrutiny and corroboration.57 Consistent with Gregory’s guidelines, each of the depositions pertaining to Elizabeth’s case begins with the name of the main witness, almost invariably tied to a place of origin—a village or a city—and the diocese in which it could be found. This is followed by a detailed description of the illness or infirmity in question, often preceded by the age of the afflicted and his or her relationship to the witness, if they were not one and the same person. Then comes a detailed reconstruction of the circumstances surrounding the healing, including the duration of the malady, the date of the cure, and the precise nature and timing of the invocation that secured the saint’s assistance. Typically the information provided by the main witness is corroborated by interviews with other people, each of whom is identified by name and place of origin and, where relevant, by his or her relationship to the one cured. It is clear from the questions posed by the commission that the point was not only to establish, on the basis of eyewitness testimony, that a miracle had actually occurred, but to verify, as noted, that it was the result of Elizabeth’s intercession as opposed to some other factor, whether natural or supernatural. For lack of other data, the

56. From the papal register of Gregory IX and quoted in Latin and English by Klaniczay, “Proving Sanctity,” pp. 124–25. I have modified the translation a bit in light of the original Latin. It should be noted that although the pope’s instructions begin with reference to Elizabeth’s life and conduct as well as to her miracles, by the end they seem to be focused only on the miracles. As we shall see, there is no evidence that the commission actually heard any witnesses—beyond Conrad himself—speak about Elizabeth’s life until they convened again in 1235. These guidelines, originally designed with Elizabeth’s case in mind, were used repeatedly thereafter to inform subsequent canonization processes. 57. “Canonization was not an opportunity for free discussion on merit and character. It was a mostly technical examination of evidence.” Kleinberg, “Canonization without a Canon,” p. 10. Ironically, despite all the effort put into the deposition process, it was rare for early thirteen-century popes to cite evidence of miracles in the actual canonization bull. As Michael Goodich has suggested, it was as if “the papacy was wary of the reliability of the inquisition process, especially with respect to miracles.” Either that or they felt that “a virtuous life rather than miracles lay at the foundation of sainthood.” Only during the pontificate of Innocent IV (1243–54) did popes regularly add some miracle accounts to their canonization bulls. Goodich, “Reason or Revelation?” pp. 190–94.

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commissioners had little choice but to trust the witnesses, comforting themselves with the fact that they were all testifying under oath.58 Some of the depositions contain, embedded within the text, the actual questions the commissioners posed to the main witnesses.59 Hadewig of Allertshausen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that her daughter Berta, now fifteen years of age, had been blind for the last two and a half years but now could see again. Asked how her daughter had incurred this condition, she responded that one night her daughter went to bed fully able to see but when she got up the next morning she could not see a thing. Asked about the condition of her eyes, she said that they were covered with a red membrane and many tiny veins. She had to be led from place to place because she was unable even to discern the light of day. Asked how her daughter had regained her sight, she responded that once she had learned about the miracles of Lady Elizabeth, she vowed that she would go with offerings to her church. Eight days after she had made the vow, she suddenly began to see and little by little she fully regained her sight. Asked when it was that her daughter had made the vow, she responded that it was before the Feast of St. James, adding that, the very next harvest season, she took in the crops and later recultivated with the help of this same daughter.60 In other instances the depositions open with a series of leading questions, followed by what reads like uninterrupted testimony, for example, “Hildegund of Wetzlar of the diocese of Trier, when asked about her son’s illness, the manner of his cure, and his age, said under oath that . . . ”61 In the majority of cases, however, the witnesses seem to have been given the chance to tell their own stories, with the commissioners asking only follow-up questions as necessary to fill in any blanks left by the original testimony. One mother described her daughter’s epileptic seizures in detail but forgot to mention when the last one had occurred, prompting a specific request for this information.62 Similarly, after Adelheid of Urfa had recounted her struggles with mental illness, one

58. The testimony of witnesses was the only option the commissioners had to verify miracles. “The witnesses were sworn to tell the truth. One was expected to believe them. There was no recourse to experts.” Delooz, Sociologie et canonisations, p. 33. See also Klaniczay “Proving Sanctity,” p. 129. 59. Vauchez noted that “at the end of the first third of the thirteenth century, there was an attempt to direct the f low of the evidence” through the use of preestablished questions, which would evolve into the forma interrogatorii. At this early stage, though, “the aim was to gather as much information as possible about the circumstances in which the miracles had occurred. The questions posed were primarily intended to eliminate all possibility of fraud.” Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 49–50; see p. 50, n. 70 for an example of such a forma. 60. Miracle Depositions (1233) 50. Other examples of this question-and-answer format are to be found in Miracle Depositions (1233) 1, 36, 66. 61. Miracle Depositions (1233) 24. 62. Miracle Depositions (1233) 32.

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of the commissioners asked her to state her age.63 Sometimes we find the commissioners challenging witnesses in an effort to clarify something that at first glance did not make sense to them. In one case, when two villagers from Unterrosphe claimed to have seen, on the very day of his cure, a boy who had been blind before visiting the Elizabeth’s shrine, the commissioners asked them how that could have been since they had not accompanied the boy to Marburg. The villagers responded that Unterrosphe was only a short distance from Marburg, and so the child had returned with his mother the very day of the cure.64 In another instance, involving a woman at the shrine praying on behalf of a crippled daughter whom she had left behind at home, we find the commissioners carefully trying to reconstruct the timing of the cure so as to establish that the girl had been healed at the same time her mother was requesting Elizabeth’s assistance.65 Perhaps because claims of blindness, in the absence of any visible problems with the eyes,66 would have been among the easiest maladies to feign, they tended to elicit more scrutiny from the commissioners. Thus, although they accepted Berta of Biedenkopf’s word that she had suffered from an unnatural “flow of blood,” they questioned five witnesses about the blindness that she said remained after all visible indications of it had disappeared.67 It is possible that this wide spectrum, ranging from depositions driven entirely by questions to ones showing no signs of any external prompt or interrogation, was simply a function of inconsistent recording and editing. The scribes responsible for taking notes and then turning the firsthand vernacular testimony into a third-person report in Latin may not have been consistent. This range may also reflect the nature of the testimony itself. We can imagine that more reticent witnesses would have required some prompting, whereas others might have welcomed the opportunity to grandstand a bit. Be that as it may be, we find ourselves in the enviable position of having a series of depositions that provide the same basic kind of information without sacrificing the spontaneity of the witnesses. Although the depositions definitely “bear the imprint of the conceptual mechanisms of the interrogators,”68 they are reasonably pure sources of local opinions about the thaumaturgical role played by saints and their relics. 63. Miracle Depositions (1233) 16. See also 2, 46, 49, 79. 64. Miracle Depositions (1233) 37. 65. Miracle Depositions (1233) 4. 66. See, for example, Miracle Depositions (1233) 50, where the examiners specifically asked about the physical condition of the eyes of a girl before she was cured of blindness. Cases of epilepsy and death by drowning also seem to have elicited special attention, leading to probing questions about the symptoms as if with an eye to verifying the diagnosis. See, for example, Miracle Depositions (1233) 10, 80, 81. 67. Miracle Depositions (1233) 30. 68. Klaniczay, “Speaking about Miracles,” p. 368. One obvious symptom of this “imprint” is the occasional reference to specific Sundays of Lent, which are identified by the first few words of the introit read on that occasion. It is hard to imagine lay witnesses using such language in their testimony. See, for instance, Miracle Depositions (1233) 67, 73, 98.

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It is important to keep in mind that as straightforward as the commissioners’ questions were prima facie, the end result of their efforts—the hearing, evaluating, translating, and recording of oral testimony—was necessarily creative. After all, the task of the commission was to process the raw data presented orally by the witnesses into a reasonably coherent, consistent body of evidence in support of the canonization of a saint. Though witnesses and commissioners alike were participants in a broad cultural framework that allowed for the possibility of miraculous activity and the ability to “recognize” it when it happened, and though they all conspired, in a sense, to promote Elizabeth to the rank of saint, their ideas of what constituted legitimate signs of sanctity no doubt varied. Some of this difference could be explained in terms of experience. The commissioners and their scribes had more experience with the formal requirements of santification and would have been guided by what they were looking for in terms of noteworthy, reliable evidence.69 On the other hand, the witnesses by definition had more immediate experience of the saint’s power and the “actual” forms that it could take. The main witnesses were given the most latitude for self-expression in the description of their maladies and cures. In a few cases it almost seems as if they were trying to outdo one another, perhaps in a deliberate effort to “make the cut.”70 Physical impairments in particular seemed to tap a vein of macabre fascination. A woman of Lützellinden who suffered from dropsy had been so bloated that “her eyes could barely be seen,” but once she invoked Elizabeth, “the fluid in her body began to burst forth, flowing like a river from her vagina and breasts.”71 A woman from Biedenkopf, describing her granddaughter’s condition, said that “she was afflicted with fistulas on her neck, her back, her side, and on part of her thighs, so that a great deal of pus oozed continually from her flesh on these parts of her body. Her clothes were so infused with this pus that dogs pulled at her clothes to lick at it.”72 Similarly we learn that when the membrane covering a teenage girl’s infected eyes finally burst

69. “Let us keep in mind, first of all, that this image is presented to us through the filter of a type of literature that shapes it in stereotypical ways and that ref lects the opinion of one social group: that of the clerics and monks who were gathered into communities around the sanctuaries where the saints were honored. True, many of the miracle accounts originated from the people and were destined to be recounted to them in the liturgical celebrations which they attended, but the choice of miracles that we are presented with is that of the hagiographers who were members of those communities, and without a doubt the way that the hagiographers made this choice has inf luenced the idea that we have of the concept of miracle in that era.” Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, p. 311. Though Sigal was referring to miracles collections from eleventh- and twelfth-century France, his general conclusions are relevant for thirteenth-century Germany. 70. The vivid mini-narratives that make their way into the written depositions represent, for Kleinberg, the voice of the “consumer.” “If canonization expresses the cultural obsessions of the elite, the popular story is a consumer-oriented production characterized by ambiguity,” an ambiguity captured in the depositions despite its potential subversion of the rules imposed by the legal process. Kleinberg, “Canonization without a Canon,” p. 17. Compare the “anecdotal-literary elements” and “imagination-capturing descriptions,” which Klaniczay identifies in his “Proving Sanctity,” pp. 130–31. 71. Miracle Depositions (1233) 103. 72. Miracle Depositions (1233) 9.

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open “a great deal of matter flowed out, such that her mother was scarcely able to keep the flies from her face.”73 Some mental illnesses also rose to this level of fascination. As a result of her bout with insanity, Adelheid of Urfa “rushed about in her sleep through villages, fields, and forests. Tearing off her clothes, she was not embarassed to be naked in the presence of men.”74 Similiarly a woman named Englewip “would rip off her own clothes and run about the city at night with dogs. When restrained, she tore with her teeth at the chains with which she was bound.”75 Other witnesses distinguished themselves by their vivid, “earthy” metaphors and points of reference. When Isentrud of Schletzenrod took her son— who had been born with no openings on his face where his eyes should have been—to Elizabeth’s shrine, “suddenly there appeared a tear in the boy’s skin . . . as if what had been previously unbroken was now being cut by a knife, and little eyes appeared, bloody and agitated, looking like the frog’s eggs that one finds in pools of water.”76 In another case, a father from Medebach told the commission that his son, who had been pulled lifeless from a river, “lay there with his mouth agape and his eyes open in an awful way,” his skin “dark and wrinkled all over, as if he had been boiled in water.”77 The legs of Conrad of Alsfeld, according to his father, “began to twist together like the strands of a rope and even when they were pulled apart from each other, they would go back the way they had been before.”78 A father from Marburg estimated that the lump on his son’s back was “the size of a big pot,”79 while his counterpart from Elmshausen estimated his son’s growth to have been “the size of the head of a newborn baby.”80 The kidney stone that Aba of Ginsheid passed and the commissioners later examined was “as big as a dove’s egg.”81 According to Henric of Massenheim, the skin on his daughter’s lifeless legs was “wrinkled like folded bread,” and Gerdrud of Bleichenbach said that the bubo that suddenly appeared under her arm had swelled up “like bread” rising.82 When Mehthild of Wetzlar was moved, her crippled legs, “made a sound like dry logs rubbing against each other,” not to be confused with the “hissing sound” that emanated from the swollen limbs of Adelheid of Böddeken.83 Asked how far the river had carried the body of a girl from the place where she had fallen in, a witness estimated it to have been “a crossbow shot’s distance.”84 Asked how 73. Miracle Depositions (1233) 26. 74. Miracle Depositions (1233) 16. 75. Miracle Depositions (1233) 18. 76. Miracle Depositions (1233) 1. 77. Miracle Depositions (1233) 10. 78. Miracle Depositions (1233) 70. 79. Miracle Depositions (1233) 72. 80. Miracle Depositions (1233) 34. 81. Miracle Depositions (1233) 17. 82. Miracle Depositions (1233) 42, 12. 83. Miracle Depositions (1233) 22, 67. 84. Miracle Depositions (1233) 47.

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long her epileptic daughter’s fits lasted, a woman said “less time than it takes to celebrate the mass.”85 Some of the depositions contain asides and anecdotes that the commission inadvertently elicited in their efforts to make sure they were dealing with a bona fide cure. To determine whether a crippled boy could now walk, a custos of the tomb described how he had held out an egg to tempt the child, who immediately got up and came toward him.86 A man who was skeptical that a formerly blind boy could now see “showed him a denarius and then threw it in a pot”; he was satisfied when the child “reached his hand into the pot and pulled out the coin.”87 A secondary witness, testifying to his friend’s blindness, recalled that “even though he stood right next to the courtyard of the hospital, he could not see it nor was he able to see me even though I was standing right next to him. In fact he said to me: ‘Is that you, Ludwic? I cannot see you because I am completely blind.’ ”88 The overall detail and consistency of the information in the 130 depositions permits a much more complete demographical analysis than does the earlier miracle list.89 The people cured divide fairly evenly along gender lines: sixty-one females and sixty-eight males. But in terms of age the distribution is quite skewed. Though the range in the ninety-four depositions that indicate an age is from zero to sixty, only fifteen of them involved people older than twenty. In fact, the mean age of the people healed (whose age we know) turns out to be fourteen, with children under the age of six accounting for a full third of them (thirty-two).90 Of the thirty-six remaining miracles for which the age is not indicated, ten involve someone identified as either a puer (boy) or a puella (girl). We can deduce that the remaining twenty-six beneficiaries were adults based either on textual evidence (in twelve cases) or the simple fact that they were not referred to as pueri or puellae in the depositions. That children figure so prominently among those healed may have had something to do with Elizabeth’s apparent predilection for sick children, as evidenced by a number of anecdotes to this effect told by Conrad and the handmaids.91 Why adults are so much better represented in those cases where the ages are not indicated is not clear. But based on the reported ages

85. Miracle Depositions (1233) 35. See also 36, 47, 80. 86. Miracle Depositions (1233) 33. For custos, see note 107. 87. Miracle Depositions (1233) 1. 88. Miracle Depositions (1233) 21. 89. Though the two commissions heard 130 depositions between them, at least one of the miracles described in 1233 (21) appears again in 1235 (8), and two of the depositions from 1233 (21 and 28) describe two consecutive cures for the same person. As a result, the various analytic categories are not necessarily based on samples of exactly 130. 90. The median age is twelve. 91. Anja Petrakopoulos’s insights about Elizabeth as a mother figure are relevant here. “Sanctity and Motherhood: Elizabeth of Thuringia,” in Sanctity and Motherhood: Essays on Holy Mothers in the Middle Ages, ed. Anneke B. Mulder-Bakker [Garland reference library of the humanities; vol. 1767. Garland medieval casebooks; vol. 14] (New York: Garland, 1995).

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of miracle seekers over twenty-five, most of which are given in exact multiples of ten,92 the ages of the adults seem less likely to have been remembered with any precision. Be that as it may be, the fact that children are so well represented among those cured explains the prominence of parents as main witnesses (sixty-one cases), divided almost evenly between mothers (thirty) and fathers (twenty-nine), with an additional two cases in which both parents were interviewed together. Of the remaining depositions, forty-eight were taken from those who benefited from the miracles themselves. Of those main witnesses (twenty) who were neither the person cured nor a parent of the same, we find an assortment of relatives and a few identified only by name. The commissioners seem to have been careful to note when they were interviewing a member of the nobility or clergy, presumably because they regarded such testimony as carrying more weight.93 Knights appear twice in the depositions as main witnesses94 and seven times as secondary ones,95 with “wives of knights” serving that role in one additional case.96 Two witnesses to the healing of a crippled woman were identified as “free and noble” men, and elsewhere we hear from a “nobleman,” a “noble matron, “and a ‘lady.’ ”97 Parish priests figure as witnesses in ten miracles,98 abbots and priors in three,99 and lay conversi in two.100 There are also single references to a “religious woman,”101 a deacon,102 a canon,103 and a canoness.104 As in the case of Conrad’s preliminary miracle list, we find a number of witnesses who were associated in some way with Elizabeth’s hospital or shrine. Crafto, one of the hospital priests, is named four times, and another named Godefrid is mentioned once.105 Members of the order of the Teutonic Knights—which took over the administration of the hospital after Conrad of Marburg’s death— testified on four occasions.106 The custodes of the sepulchre are mentioned

92. One who was twenty-six, three who were forty, one who was forty-one, four who were fifty, and one who was sixty. 93. Sigal, L’homme el le miracle, p. 231. 94. Miracle Depositions (1233) 6, 62. 95. Miracle Depositions (1233) 1, 4, 51, 56, 62, 82, 98. 96. Miracle Depositions (1233) 15. 97. Miracle Depositions (1233) 12, 51, 82, 57. 98. Miracle Depositions (1233) 4, 12, 20, 47, 50, 56, 67, 68, 87, 95. Miracle Depositions (1235) 2, 17, 24, the latter involving two additional priests at Reinhardsbrunn. 99. Miracle Depositions (1235) 1, 3, 24. 100. Miracle Depositions (1233) 29; Miracle Depositions (1235) 24. 101. Miracle Depositions (1233) 4. 102. Miracle Depositions (1233) 29. 103. Miracle Depositions (1233) 29. 104. Miracle Depositions (1233) 67. 105. Miracle Depositions (1233) 14, 66, 70 (Crafto); 1 (Godefrid); Miracle Depositions (1235) 15 (Crafto). 106. Miracle Depositions (1233) 66 (Hermann and Albert, “master of the hospital”), 70 (Hermann and his wife). Miracle Depositions (1235) 13 (Hartbert and Reinhard, brothers of the Teutonic Knights), 24 (“The greater prior of the Teutonic Knights”).

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three times,107 and men involved in the construction of the new church that was being erected in Elizabeth’s honor, twice.108 Members of the papal commission added their own collective testimony to twenty-seven of the depositions, often by simply noting that the person standing in front of them and claiming to have been the recipient of a miracle looked healthy enough. Occasionally the commisioners stopped to inspect a scar, a kidney stone, or a piece of bone presented as evidence.109 Individual members of the commission were identified as witnesses only three times: Conrad of Marburg twice and Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim once.110 As noted in reference to Conrad’s miracle list, the commissioners were much less conscientious about recording the social standings or occupations of the many non-noble, lay witnesses. The term cives (citizen) appears seven times in the depositions of 1233 in reference to witnesses who hailed from the cities of Marburg, Frankfurt, or Limburg.111 Because the same label is applied to people from the villages of Goldbeck and Gelnhausen,112 it is not as useful a designation as it might seem. Overall, the depositions refer specifically to two millers,113 two students,114 a writer,115 a carpenter,116 a bath operator,117 a gravedigger, a thief,118 a scribe,119 two widows,120 a shepherd’s daughter,121 a poor woman,122 and four servants.123 In three other cases we are told that Elizabeth’s intercession delivered people from a life of begging, since their cures allowed them to go back to work.124 That is all that the depositions have to say about the social composition of the non-noble, nonclerical witnesses. Though we would like to know more about them, we can at least conclude, based on the relative paucity of references to noblemen, clerics, and hospital officials, that the vast majority of the people who came before the commission were common villagers. 107. The custos or “keeper” of a saint’s shrine was responsible for controlling access to it. Miracle Depositions (1233) 69, 70. Miracle Depositions (1235) 16. 108. Miracle Depositions (1233) 69, 70. 109. Typically such observations on the part of the commissioners were added to the end of the deposition: “And we, who heard this testimony, saw her completely healthy.” Miracle Depositions (1233) 3. See also 1, 4, 7, 10, 12, 17 (kidney stone), 31 (scars), 37, 38, 44, 50–52, 54, 56, 58, 59, 61, 64, 67, 75, 81 (scars), 82 (scars), 95 (scars). Miracle Depositions (1235) 20 (bone). 110. Miracle Depositions (1233) 1, 66; Miracle Depositions (1235) 1. 111. Miracle Depositions (1233) 1, 28, 48, 54, 60, 72, 73. 112. Miracle Depositions (1235) 2, 9. 113. Miracle Depositions (1233) 6, 66. 114. Miracle Depositions (1233) 6; Miracle Depositions (1235) 4. 115. Miracle Depositions (1235) 5. 116. Miracle Depositions (1233) 102. 117. Miracle Depositions (1233) 49. 118. Miracle Depositions (1235) 18. 119. Miracle Depositions (1235) 5. 120. Miracle Depositions (1233) 14, 35. 121. Miracle Depositions (1233) 27. 122. Miracle Depositions (1235) 2. 123. Miracle Depositions (1233) 67, 80, 58, 82. 124. Miracle Depositions (1233) 3, 45, 48; see also 56, 59, 92.

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All of the depositions describe some form of healing,125 except for one, which recounts a rope snapping under the weight of a man on the gallows.126 In the vast majority of cases, the healing is from some form of physical impairment. The single largest subset (forty-eight) involved people whose mobility was hindered in one way or another.127 The records refer to them variously using forms of the adjectives claudus, contractus, curvatus, paraliticus, or simply impotens ad gradiendum. One could add to this category the seventeen who were listed as humpbacks (gibbosi)—some of whom (six) also had scrofula (strumosi)128 —because most of them suffered from such severe cases that they could not get around without assistance. The next largest group were the twenty-three who suffered from some form of blindness whether in one or both eyes. Fourteen epileptics (epylemptici),129 eight people with various kinds of skin ulceration (infistulati), seven suffering from some form of swelling (inf lati), five with mental problems ( furiosi), five mutes (muti), four experiencing excessive blood flow, three with grossly distorted faces, and two suffering from dropsy (ydropici) fill out the list of diseases and disorders that appear in the depositions more than once. There were also single cases of kidney stones, pustules, cancer, nasal polyps, buboes, a distended lip, a hernia, and a head that listed dramatically to one side. Outside the realm of physical impairment and disease, we find eight cases of people being revived after having been deemed dead130 and six miracles involving victims of nonfatal accidents, including a man who had been wounded by an ax,131 a woman who had been gored by a 125. For a concise, detailed breakdown of these healing miracles, see Barbara Wendel-Widmer, Die Wunderheilungen am Grabe der Heiligen Elisabeth von Thüringen. Eine medizinhistorische Untersuchung, Zurcher medizingeschichtliche Abhandlungen (Juris: Zurich, 1987). In her chapter titled “Medieval Miracles and Impairment,” Irina Metzler uses the miracle accounts associated with Elizabeth as part of her data for understanding medieval conceptions of impairment and disability. Metzler, Disability in Medieval Europe: Thinking about Physical Impairment during the High Middle Ages, c. 1100–1400 (London: Routledge, 2006), pp. 126–85. Elizabeth’s miracles also provide data for a recent psychological study of medieval miracles. Maria Wittmer-Butsch and Constanze Rendtel, Miracula: Wunderheilungen im Mittelalter. Eine historischpsychologische Annäherung (Cologne: Böhlau, 2003). 126. Miracle Depositions (1235) 18. This would fall into Sigal’s “deliverance” category. L’homme et le miracle, pp. 268–70. 127. This is consistent with Vauchez’s observations, based on his consideration of miracles associated with thirteenth-century saints as a group. Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 468–69, 471. It also fits Sigal’s statistical analysis of his eleventh- and twelfth-century French sources. Sigal, L’homme el le miracle, pp. 228–64; see especially the chart on p. 256. 128. Scrofula, also known as a “struma” or the “king’s evil,” is a form of tuberculosis that typically manifests itself as a growth on the neck. See Marc Bloch, The Royal Touch: Sacred Monarchy and Scrofula in England and France, trans. J. E. Anderson (originally Les Rois Thaumaturges) (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1973). As is apparent from the various references in these miracle accounts, the term was applied to growths on other parts of the body as well. 129. The text distinguishes between epylemptici (twelve) and those aff licted with the morbus caducus (three). 130. Five of these cases involved drownings: Miracle Depositions (1233) 6, 10, 47, 47; Miracle Depositions (1235) 21; one, a hanging: Miracle Depositions (1235) 17. In another case, the dead person in question was a stillborn baby who came to life just long enough to receive a proper baptism. Miracle Depositions (1233) 13. Vauchez seems to have missed these cases when he observed that resurrections from the dead were “very rare, if not non-existent, in the processes of the first half of the thirteenth century.” Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 467. 131. Miracle Depositions (1233) 30.

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pig,132 a man who had herniated himself,133 and a girl with a pea stuck in her ear.134 This distribution logically represents only a subset of the range of maladies and impairments presented to the commission. After all, only those cases deemed worthy for their purposes made it into their records. The commissioners were perhaps predisposed to value those healings that paralleled the ones recorded in the gospels and Acts, in particular those involving the lame and the blind.135 The fact that so many ailments without a biblical precedent made it into the records warns us against reading too much into such a caveat. There is very little mention in the depositions of any diabolical activity. We are presented with only one instance—a singularly bizarre one—of demonic possession. A man from Allertshausen testified that his ten-yearold stepdaughter had been given a beverage by a family servant, who had ominously invited her to “drink the excommunicated devil.” For some reason she did, only to swell up “like a barrel,” and she stayed that way for two years. Seeing her make “horrible gestures” and hearing voices coming from inside her saying, “I am called Portenere and Wisman,” the people of Allertshausen understandably concluded that the girl was possessed.136 In only two of the other four cases of insanity do we find any speculation at all about the devil’s role, and even then the commission seems reluctant to draw such a conclusion: “people believed that she had been possessed by a demon because everyone who was there had been struck with tremendous fear.”137 Aside from that, the closest we get to demonic activity is the case of a woman from Bezela who claimed that she lost her sight when “some kind of a phantasm appeared in the form of a boy sitting in the fire.”138 The husband, whom the commissioners questioned next, said that he had noticed nothing unusual in the fire, but he did remember his wife “shouting in response to the presence or illusion of a phantasm.” In short, although the witnesses and commissioners alike were perfectly willing to entertain the possibility of a supernatural cure, they were slow to ascribe supernatural causes to any given malady. The miracles were by no means evenly distributed over the three-year period (November 1231 to December 1234) that separated the earliest from the

132. Miracle Depositions (1233) 89. 133. Miracle Depositions (1233) 92. 134. Miracle Depositions (1233) 71. 135. According to Metzler healings of physical impairments deemed incurable were considered ipso facto on a par with raising the dead. As such they served to enhance the reputation of Jesus and his disciples—not to mention medieval saints like Elizabeth—more than cures of any other malady. But this does not necessarily mean that the victims of such disabilities were over-represented in the Elizabeth sources since their desperation might have led them to her shrine in greater numbers than people aff licted with conditions deemed more curable. Metzler, Disability in Medieval Europe, pp. 133–39. See also Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 466–67. 136. Miracle Depositions (1235) 13. 137. Miracle Depositions (1233) 18, 102; emphasis added. 138. Miracle Depositions (1233) 100.

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latest. Of the 107 whose dates we know or can deduce,139 all but ten fall within the thirteen-month period between the beginning of January 1233 and the end of January 1234. The single most active months were April (1233), with fifteen reported cures, June and September with fourteen each, and May with thirteen. Because so many of the cures happened in conjuntion with a visit to the shrine, these spikes probably reflect surges in the number of a pilgrims making their way to Marburg during the spring and early fall. With the exception of the eight miracles that took place in January 1233—when the first of the two official inquiries was being held in Marburg—only four miracles occurred during the winter months. There is a marked tendency for the miracles to cluster around well-known feast days. Nine of them were reported to have taken place on Pentecost (May 30 in 1232), another nine on St. Michael’s day (September 29), six on St. John the Baptist’s day (June 24), five on Easter (April 11 in 1232), three on the Feast of St. James (July 25), and three on the Feast of the Nativity of the Virgin (September 8). This phenomenon partly reflects the use of important feasts as temporal points of reference for events that may or may not have occurred precisely on those days. But it might also follow from the tendency to congregate at holy places on the major feast days, thereby maximizing the possibility of healings on such occasions.140 The distribution of place names mentioned in the depositions more or less matches what we found when we considered the geographical data from Conrad’s miracle list. Almost half of the miracles were worked for the benefit of people who hailed from within fifty kilometers of Elizabeth’s shrine. Of the twenty-eight who lived within twenty kilometers, eleven were from Marburg itself, and another six were from Biedenkopf, a small town to the northwest. None of the other nine locales within this radius contributed more than two. Increasing the radius to fifty kilometers adds thirty-four miracle seekers to the list, with Grünberg (six) and Wetzlar (five) being the only places mentioned more than twice. Adding another twenty kilometers nets twenty-four more, Limburg (three) and Twiste (three) being the only additional towns with more than one miracle seeker. Beyond this perimeter, the only places mentioned more than once are Frankfurt, Wiesbaden, and Koblenz, each appearing twice. The most distant point of origin: Werben, a town near Magdeburg, over 300 kilometers away from Marburg, which was home to a knight who brought his crippled son to the shrine in hopes of a cure.141 Because most of the miracles were initiated by a vow and most of the vows involved a promise to 139. In some cases, the cure is reported to have taken place slowly over a period of time. For the purposes of this distribution, I count the dates when the cures began. 140. Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, pp. 192–94. 141. Miracle Depositions (1233) 98. A gravedigger from Utrecht (285 kilometers) and a blind woman from St. Hubert in modern-day Belgium (245 kilometers) fill out the top three. Miracle Depositions (1235) 15; Miracle Depositions (1233) 100. It is risky to take the mention of a witness’s place of origin as an indication of how far he or she actually came in search of a cure, because he or she might have relocated on some earlier occasion to a place closer to Marburg.

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visit the tomb, it is not surprising that the bulk of the people seeking Elizabeth’s help came from villages and towns within a reasonable distance from Marburg. This is consistent with what we have deduced about the socioeconomic status of the vast majority of the petitioners. In only one case do the depositions explicitly identify a witness who testified to more than one miracle.142 The only way to determine if there were other repeat performers is to compare witness lists pertaining to miracles involving people from the same village or town; this turns out to be inconclusive. If we consider the six miracles pertaining to people from Grünberg, for instance, we find a total of eighteen corroborating witnesses. Comparing their names, we find “Heinrichs” in miracles 5, 8, and 19, “Ludwigs” in 19 and 25, “Hartmuts” in 5 and 18, “Irmentruds” in 5 and 8, “Walters” 5 and 8, and “Conrads” and “Stephens” in 25 and 26. If the Heinrichs and Walters of depositions 5 and 18 are indeed the same people, then we have a case where two main witnesses from the same town served as corroborating witnesses for each other. That is about all that can be concluded about the witnesses from Grünberg. Turning to Biedenkopf, six of whose inhabitants served as main witnesses and twenty-eight as secondary ones, the pickings are even slimmer. A “Hedwig” appears among the witnesses in four of the Biedenkopf miracles, an “Adelheid” in three, and a “Hildegund” in two. Variations in orthography complicate the picture. The Gundrath from Biedenkopf who testified on behalf of the girl with the ulcerous hand and the Gundrad from Biedenkopf who spoke on behalf of a girl with excessive bleeding may or may not have been the same person.143 Although there is no way to confirm these identifications, the witness lists can at least give us a sense as to the number of people from each village or town who took the trouble to come before the two commissions. In places like Grünberg and Biedenkopf that were the settings for multiple miracles, this number could be rather large: twenty-four and thirty-four, respectively. This is consistent with the challenges Conrad identified hearing all of the witnesses who gathered to testify.144 He tried to alleviate the problem by accepting depositions that had been collected by local priests and delivered to the commissioners in Marburg. The one describing the revival of a drowning victim from Zeppenfeld included the sworn testimony of Arnulf, the parish priest, who took it upon himself, “due to the burdens of distance and time,” to abjure eight people “to speak the truth about the matter, using the threat of eternal judgment and every other means at his disposal,” and to present their collective

142. Miracle Depositions (1235) 8 identifies its primary witness, Ortwin of Wetzlar, as a witness in the previous deposition as well (7). 143. Miracle Depositions (1233) 31 and 30. On the other hand, it is clear from the context that the “Mathild” mentioned in miracle 84 could not have been the “Mathilda” in 31, because the former is identified as a fifty-year-old and the latter, a teenager. 144. Miracle Depositions (1233) 102.

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testimony to the commission.145 Another deposition includes a quotation taken from a letter sent by a priest in Wiesbaden who listed the parisioners who could have testified had they come to Marburg.146 Beyond issues of demographics, geography, morbidity, and logistics, the testimony taken in 1233 and 1235 provides important data for understanding the cultural assumptions that made a medieval saint cult possible. The depositions are a particularly good source for this kind of information because the commission’s principal task, in their effort to promote Elizabeth’s claim to sanctity, was to verify that she had indeed played the decisive role in the healings that were being attributed to her. With this in mind, the commissioners regularly pressed the witnesses to specify exactly how they had gone about securing Elizabeth’s help.147 The most common follow-up questions posed to the main witnesses were aimed at recovering the precise wording of their invocations and vows; in forty-five cases, the witnesses remembered and reproduced the actual language they claim to have used.148 Similarly the most common caveat offered by secondary witnesses was that they were not present when the invocation was made and so could not confirm the saint’s role in a given cure even if they could testify to an improvement in a person’s condition.149 The determination on the part of the commission to get at this type of information is what allows us to use the depositions to reconstruct the mentality of the witnesses as well as that of their interrogators vis-à-vis the curious world of saintly intercession. The very language used to describe the cures helps us appreciate how people at the time conceived of their miraculous relief from illnesses and disabilities. The verbs sanare and curare occur with some frequency in reference to general healing, as do illuminare in cases of restored sight and suscitare or vivificare in conjunction with people being brought back to life. Occasionally the verb liberare appears, as in the case of the girl from Breidenbach who was “freed” from the flow of blood that she suffered or the woman from Denzerhaid who was “freed” from an unsightly polyp on her nose.150 More commonly, however, the miracles were described in terms of “receiving” (recipere) health, as in the case of Aba of Grünberg who vowed to go to Elizabeth’s shrine “so that I may receive health by means of your merits and prayers.”151 Receiving one’s health was consistent with the notion that the attainment or recovery of one’s 145. Miracle Depositions (1233) 47. 146. Miracle Depositions (1233) 68. 147. According to Vauchez, the commissioners would have been concerned not only with identifying the saint’s hand in the cure but with detecting any “superstitious practices, in particular any use of incantatory formulas.” Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 50. 148. In only one instance did a witness admit to not being unable to remember the wording of the invocation that he had used. Miracle Depositions (1233) 58. 149. Miracle Depositions (1233) 21, 22, 23, 27, 31, 34, 35, 37, 41, 63, 65, 78, 106. 150. Miracle Depositions (1233) 11, 14. See also 3, 23, 39, 56, 64, 69; Miracle Depositions (1235) 13, 18. 151. Miracle Depositions (1233) 19. See also 4, 16, 18, 20, 33, 42, 46, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 73, 76, 84, 85. 88, 91, 92, 96, 99, 100, 104, 105; Miracle Depositions (1235) 6, 9, 14, 22, 24.

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well-being was a gift, specifically a gift of grace dispensed directly or indirectly by Elizabeth. Thus a man who had cut his leg with an ax visited her tomb and on the way back “received grace so that . . . he was able to throw away his crutches and proceed without support.”152 It should be noted that such language appears infrequently as part of a quoted invocation; instead, it tends to appear either as part of the scribe’s summary of the effects of Elizabeth’s intercession—as in the two instances just quoted—or as part of a question posed by a commissioner, as when Isentrud of Zeppenfeld was asked about her son’s healing “and about the illness that had preceded this grace.”153 This illustrates how the commissioners and their scribes could effectively put words in the mouths of the witnesses, words that affirmed the theology of intercession and reinforced the notion that the recovery of one’s health under these circumstances should be seen as a supernatural gift rather than a natural process. For the most part, the cures described in the depositions live up to their miraculous billing,154 as we would expect given the fact that they were being vetted by the commission with an eye to strengthening a case for canonization. Even with such a filter in place, some cures managed to get through despite significant ambiguity, suggesting that the collective desire to see Elizabeth’s hand at work could effectively lower the bar as to what properly constituted a miracle.155 One deposition describes how a woman from Lang-Göns, pregnant with twins, delivered a healthy girl but a stillborn boy. “The mother, along with the many other men and women who were there, called to the Lord and begged Lady Elizabeth for her grace and mercy in securing the revival of this dead child through the Lord.”156 Lo and behold, “the baby opened his mouth and he began to breathe and get warm in those places where he had not previously been warm,” only to expire moments later. Despite its brevity this recovery was still considered a miracle because it provided those present with just enough time to perform an emergency baptism, thus saving the child’s soul. The reader is left wondering why, given all of the other successful resuscitations in which Elizabeth was involved, she failed to secure one for this baby boy.

152. Miracle Depositions (1233) 25, 28, 105. 153. Miracle Depositions (1233) 44. See also 15, 45, 93. Two exceptions to this rule are to be found in Miracle Depositions (1233) 35, 77. 154. Sigal concluded that the miracles he studied were reasonably consistent with natural healing processes even though they were perceived to have been accelerated by the intervention of the saint. His sources yielded few examples of “fantastic” healings such as, for instance, “the regeneration of a cut-off limb or an organ that had been destroyed.” Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, p. 312. His conclusions are consistent with the miracles associated with Elizabeth. 155. It is worth remembering that on August 10, 1232, Conrad addressed his appeal to people “who had received any cure on account of the merits of the landgravine.” He did not ask to hear from people who had appealed to Elizabeth in vain. By the very nature of the process, then, anyone who came before the commission was predisposed to see physical or mental improvement as a sign of Elizabeth’s intervention. Borrowing words used by Vauchez in another context, one could describe the attitude of the commission toward the miracle reports as “cautious if not critical.” Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 51. An unspoken quest for quantity tended to compromise the commission’s quest for quality when it came to evaluating depositions. Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 54. 156. Miracle Depositions (1233) 13.

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This was not the only “miracle” that fell short of a complete cure. A lame and mute boy from Rechfeld “began to walk and speak” after his mother made a vow to Elizabeth on his behalf, but his father had to admit that the child spoke “not with facility, but rather the way children do when they are learning to speak.”157 Cunrad of Frankfurt, a cripple, went to Marburg twice, returning home after the second visit “fully healed” but still “leaning a little on a cane when he walked.”158 The boy with the hump on his back the size of a baby’s head ultimately saw it reduced to the point where it was “no bigger than half an egg,” but it did not go away altogether.159 The mother of a boy who suffered from epilepsy regarded him as cured after her second visit to the shrine despite the fact that at some point after his return “a kind of stiffness came upon him while he was sitting.”160 In some cases the issue was not how complete the cure was but how long it took for it to materialize.161 A young girl from Ladenburg suffered from fistulous boils for two and a half years before her mother decided to take her to Marburg. “Nothing came from it that time,” she reported, so a year later—that is, the previous Easter—she went back with the girl again, and from then up to the feast of All Saints,162 she “slowly received her health.”163 In other words, despite the fact that an entire year had passed between visits to the shrine with no change in her daughter’s condition and then another six months before she was healthy, the mother attributed her recovery to Elizabeth’s intercession and the commission included the case in their report.164 Other depositions describe an extraordinary amount of human effort being applied at the same time that Elizabeth’s assistance was being invoked, thus complicating the question of attribution.165 A case in point: a five-year-old boy named Gumpert fell from a horse, suffering a compound fracture of the arm. His mother took him to Elizabeth’s shrine, but nothing came of it. “Returning home, she immediately placed her son in the bath and cut off the bone that was sticking out from the broken flesh the length of a finger. That same hour all the flesh that had been cut by the bone suddenly grew back so that the hole was covered over with skin, albeit red skin.”166 Was it Elizabeth’s intercession or the mother’s crude orthopedic skills that made the difference? The commission decided it was the former. In another case, the girl with the pea stuck in her ear suffered 157. Miracle Depositions (1233) 86. 158. Miracle Depositions (1233) 48. 159. Miracle Depositions (1233) 34. 160. Miracle Depositions (1235) 2. 161. The cures that followed immediately on the heels of a vow or a visit to the tomb were, of course, the ones most confidently attributed to the saint’s intervention. Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, pp. 68–69. 162. November 1. 163. Miracle Depositions (1235) 12. 164. Sigal offers a number of rationalizations for slow cures drawn from his eleventh- and twelfthcentury French sources. Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, p. 74. 165. Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, p. 211. 166. Miracle Depositions (1235) 20.

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through countless efforts to remove it “using instruments made of wood and metal.” It got to the point that “whenever she saw anyone approaching her, she would recoil, wanting to run away.” Faced with all of these practical efforts to dislodge the pea, the commissioners felt obliged to weigh the possibility that the supposed miracle was simply the result of one last invasive procedure of this type. In the end they were satisfied that Elizabeth was responsible for dislodging the pea right before the girl’s brother tried one last time to remove it with a reed.167 It would have been convenient for the commissioners if everyone seeking a cure had turned to Elizabeth right away and then done nothing but wait for it to happen, as in the case of the girl from Ladenburg who had been treated with no medications of any kind before visiting the shrine (twice) and ultimately recovered from her fistulas.168 That did not happen every time, and when it did not, the commissioners had to make a judgment call. Thus, the husband of Adilhaid of Hüsten “consulted many doctors about her case” and “made invocations and offerings to many saints.” Only when a neighbor who had been to Marburg told her about Elizabeth did the woman turn to her. By then the waters of attribution had been muddied, to say the least, but not so much that the commissioners discounted the miracle.169 The manner in which petitioners went about securing Elizabeth’s assistance varied across the depositions, reflecting a wide range of opinions as to the precise role played by the saint in the healing process. In a few cases, the wording of the invocations suggests a rather sophisticated appreciation of the theology of saintly intercession.170 Adelheid, a canoness at Böddeken, understood that when she “asked for her health,” she was really asking it of “the Lord on behalf of the merits of Elizabeth’s holy soul.”171 Likewise Abbot Raimund, a member of the commission who also happened to suffer from painful lesions on his leg, “went to the tomb, praying that, on behalf of the grace conferred by the Lord on Elizabeth in this world and the glory that she was believed to enjoy in heaven, she secure a cure for him, as long as this was not counter to the divine will.”172 Such theological subtleties were not entirely lost on at least some of the laymen. Friedrich of Gelnhausen’s rather poetic invocation gave voice to his own sense of impotence in comparison with Elizabeth: “Sweet lady, pious Lady Elizabeth, make me today a partner in your merits and grace, which 167. Miracle Depositions (1233) 71. “And it happened in a most amazing way, because over the years the skin had grown up around the pea so that it had become almost invisible to anyone looking into the ear.” 168. Miracle Depositions (1235) 12. 169. Miracle Depositions (1233) 104; see also Miracle Depositions (1235) 5. Ironically, before the mother of the boy with the compound fracture took him to the shrine, she had been “advised to seek the counsel of a certain doctor” but “responded that she would never call a doctor to heal her son because she had already invoked the merits of blessed Elizabeth to heal him.” Yet in the end we find her taking matters into her own hands, cutting off the protruding chunk of bone herself. 170. Vauchez also notes the “theological sophistication” of some invocations in this period. Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 460–61. 171. Miracle Depositions (1233) 67. 172. Miracle Depositions (1235) 3.

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you earned in the presence of God while still living in this world.”173 Guda of Nieder-Walgern’s invocation was simpler but no less sophisticated in this sense, asking Elizabeth to “pray for me to God on behalf of your sanctity.”174 The mother of one humpbacked girl actually bypassed Elizabeth altogether and prayed directly to Jesus, asking that the “Lord, on the basis of the merits of holy Elizabeth, deign to heal [her] daughter.”175 The very use of the verb impetrare—as in impetra mihi sancta domina sanitatem (“procure health for me, holy lady”)—implies that the petitioners who used it expected Elizabeth to secure the gift of health from God, not effect the cure herself.176 The majority of those who sought Elizabeth’s aid, however, were either ignorant of the subtleties of the intercession process or saw no reason to rehearse them before the commission. One woman, when asked what words she had used to effect her recovery, responded simply: “I prayed that the holy lady heal me from this infirmity.”177 Others followed suit: “Holy Elizabeth, heal me from this infirmity”;178 “Dear holy Lady Elizabeth, cure me in my leg”;179 “Holy Elizabeth, heal our son”;180; “Holy Lady Elizabeth, I beg you, heal my daughter”;181 “Holy lady, I beg you, cure my son’s eye”;182 and so on.183 If such invocations are an accurate reflection of how the process was understood by most of the petitioners, Elizabeth herself was dispensing the cures at Marburg. Somewhere between this “cure me” type of invocation and the more theologically attuned “pray for me” variety lie those cases in which Elizabeth was invoked to “help” the petitioner—as in “Beloved Lady Elizabeth, help me, so that my son is healed.”184 Invocations of this type could go either way, depending on the kind of help the petitioner had in mind. Elizabeth was, on occasion, paired with other saints when people sought her assistance. Dietrich, a gravedigger who had lost the use of his right arm, visited Elizabeth’s tomb twice to no effect. En route to Marburg a third time, he met an old man in the forest who advised him to remember St. Nicholas when he returned to the shrine in Marburg “because he works together with blessed Elizabeth in all matters.”185 The source of this link between these two

173. Miracle Depositions (1233) 82. 174. Miracle Depositions (1235) 19; see also Miracle Depositions (1233) 19, 20, 26, 38, 40, 73. 175. Miracle Depositions (1233) 93; see also 82. 176. Miracle Depositions (1233) 75; 2, 22, 39, 95, 106. 177. Miracle Depositions (1233) 53. 178. Miracle Depositions (1233) 103; 104. 179. Miracle Depositions (1233) 29; 11, 21, 22, 24. 180. Miracle Depositions (1233) 98; 43. 181. Miracle Depositions (1233) 43. 182. Miracle Depositions (1233) 8. See also 31, 101, 102. A couple, frustrated with the burden of caring for their crippled daughter, prayed: “Sweet holy Lady Elizabeth, either take this girl from this world or heal her.” 66; 88. 183. Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 453. 184. Miracle Depositions (1235) 4; Miracle Depositions (1233) 7, 35, 47, 63, 88. 185. Miracle Depositions (1235) 15. It was not uncommon for parvenu saints like Elizabeth to be paired with saints of longer standing when it came to petitions for intercession. This may have developed out of fear

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saints is unclear but not unique to this deposition.186 In another case, a young cripple was first inspired in a dream to visit a shrine dedicated to St. Nicholas, where one of her affected legs was healed. Later, when she visited Elizabeth’s tomb in Marburg, she gained the use of the other.187 Less mysterious is the connection between Elizabeth and St. Francis of Assisi, given the fact that Elizabeth and Conrad had dedicated the hospital chapel in Marburg to him.188 Thus we find Petrissam of Wetzler testifying that when “she entered the oratory of blessed Francis in Marburg,” where Elizabeth’s body lay, she “invoked his help and vowed to blessed Elizabeth that she would bring her daughter to Marburg.”189 Another logical choice of heavenly “consort” for Elizabeth was Conrad of Marburg who, by the time the second commission met in January 1235, had been dead for a year and a half and was beginning to inspire some devotion of his own.190 A man from Höingen whose daughter’s arm was infected not only sought Elizabeth’s help but “vowed that he would fast, taking only bread and water every single Friday for a year in honor of Master Conrad.” The deposition continues: “Within fifteen days his daughter was fully healed, though he did not know by whose merits, because both Elizabeth and Master Conrad had been invoked.”191 A second deposition recounts how Hartmann of Grünebecke, who had been hanged and presumed dead, returned to consciousness right before his burial. He attributed his good fortune to the fact that while he was awaiting execution, “he had often invoked blessed Elizabeth and Master Conrad. He said that one night both of them appeared to him in a vision full of light and consoled him.” Hartmann’s uncle Dietmar claimed that he and Hartmann’s father had invoked “blessed Mary, blessed Elizabeth, and Master Conrad.”192 In a third deposition, we learn that when Albert of Heuchelnheim found his eighteen-month-old son drowned, he first tried invoking Elizabeth, but when that seemed to have no effect, “he

of slighting a saint who already had a particular reputation in the region. Or it may simply have been a kind of endorsement that added to the acceptance of the new saint. Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 131 and n. 10. See also Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, pp. 218–22. 186. The connection may have something to do with the fact that Nicholas of Myra was considered a patron saint of children and most of the cures that Elizabeth facilitated were for children. Elizabeth’s reputation as a “mother” in the eyes of the sick people she tended is explored in Petrakopoulos, “Sanctity and Motherhood.” 187. Miracle Depositions (1233) 12. 188. Some have speculated that during a trip to Eisenach, Elizabeth tried to secure relics of Francis for her chapel, relics that Jordan of Giano, the custos of Thuringia, had brought with him from Assisi in early 1231. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 160. 189. Miracle Depositions (1235) 7. Though this is the only case in which Francis was actually invoked, his name appears in a deposition from 1233, where we read that a girl from Wetzlar, who was blind in one eye, was cured on St. Francis’s Day after invoking Elizabeth. Miracle Depositions (1233) 96. 190. The fact that Conrad was murdered while spearheading the papal campaign against heresy in Germany added to his stature as a potential intercessor. But Conrad already had a reputation as a powerful and inspiring preacher. A few of the depositions describe healings that took place while he was preaching. Miracle Depositions (1233) 1, 4, 70. See also Elliott, Proving Woman, pp. 97–100, 116. 191. Miracle Depositions (1235) 23. 192. Miracle Depositions (1235) 17.

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began to invoke the intercession of Master Conrad.” After that, his son came back to life. When the commissioners asked which of the two was responsible for his boy’s recovery, Albert said he did not know.193 As interesting as these cases of dual invocation are, they are exceptional, accounting for only three percent of the miracles affirmed by the two commissions. In the vast majority of cases, Elizabeth worked alone. Attempts to secure Elizabeth’s assistance were almost always accompanied by vows that committed the petitioner to doing something in exchange for the “grace” of a cure. Out of all the depositions, only eleven recount invocations that were not linked directly to some such quid pro quo.194 Given what Elizabeth stood for while she was alive, one might have expected that the best way to secure her help would have been by promising to live a life dedicated to helping lepers or by renouncing some of the comforts of this world. But not a single deposition describes such a promise.195 The only reference to the voluntary dispersal of personal possessions involves a epileptic from Padberg who, “not caring at all about his own property, . . . distributed and dispersed it here and there,” but the wording suggests that he was motivated more by despair than contrition.196 Beyond this, there is only one case of a cure being associated with a change in behavior on the part of the petitioner. We are told that a woman suffering from a polyp on her nose had been a devotee of the Waldensians before she decided to return to the fold and seek a cure at Elizabeth’s tomb. Yet even in this case, her vow makes no reference to any past transgressions nor to any resolve on her part to distance herself from heretics in the future. She simply asked to be freed from “this disgrace of a nose” and offered to visit the shrine every year with gifts.197 Equally glaring in their own way are the cases of the two men condemned to death on whose behalf Elizabeth interceded without first demanding that they clean up their lives or even make amends for their crimes.198 In four depositions we find petitioners promising to go to Marburg barefoot and dressed in wool as if they were aware that Elizabeth should be approached in a penitential mode, but there is no

193. Miracle Depositions (1235) 21. 194. “The complex relationships, fashioned out of fear and respect but also out of familiarity, hope, confidence, and reciprocal obligations, which were established in the Middle Ages between a saint and those who came to implore his assistance were above all based on the principle of exchange; of gift and counter-gift.” Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, p. 79, 82. 195. Klanicsay asks: “Did their miraculous healing power have any discernible relationship with the original features of their sanctity?” “Proving Sanctity,” p. 147. Citing the high incidence of cures of children at Elizabeth’s tomb, he believes there was a connection (ibid., p. 148). But my reading of the depositions suggests that parallels between Elizabeth’s concerns as a living saint and the nature of her thaumaturgical activity after her death are tenuous at best. 196. Miracle Depositions (1233) 23. 197. Miracle Depositions (1233) 14. 198. Miracle Depositions (1235) 17, 18. Compare Miracle List (August 1232) 36, where Elizabeth aids and abets a prisoner’s escape.

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mention of any particular moral failings on their part nor any promises to lead better lives in the future.199 Sometimes we find the petitioners asking others to take vows on their behalf, as if concerned about the dampening effect of their own moral failings on the responsiveness of the saint. Gerdrud of Buttlar, who witnessed a cure while visiting the shrine in Marburg, “asked a certain religious woman by the name of Jutta to make a vow with her and pray on behalf of her daughter.”200 Not having ready access to such “religious women” per se, many villagers turned to local widows for this kind of assistance. Eckehard of Erfurtslausen begged his mother to pray on behalf of her epileptic grandson “because she was a widow.”201 Gertrud of Schmaleichen approached two widows from her village, “figuring them to be holier than she was,” and asked them to make a vow on behalf of her son.202 Conrad of Padberg, who suffered from epilepsy, asked three local widows to take a vow and fast for three days before he set out for Marburg.203 The logic behind such regular recourse to widows was simple: it was not uncommon for women who outlived their husbands to take vows of continence to help counteract the negative effects of their previous (sexually incontinent) lives. This gave them a kind of quasi-religious, nun-like status. Even in the absence of such vows, women whose husbands had died were regarded as less likely to be sexually active and therefore purer in the eyes of God.204 Such reliance on “holy women,” widows, and even grandmothers205 as vicarious vow takers is as close as Elizabeth’s petitioners get to admitting, much less correcting, any moral shortcomings of their own. In most cases, those who sought Elizabeth’s intercession vowed simply to visit her shrine and bring offerings in exchange for a cure.206 Such a visit, which served to fulfill an obligation that had been voluntarily assumed in the form of a vow, amounted to a pilgrimage, though the word peregrinatio never appears in the depositions. Informing this practice was the widely held idea that proximity to a saint’s physical remains meant proximity to the saint itself and that such proximity would increase the chances of the

199. Miracle Depositions (1233) 13, 15, 32, 103. Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 458. 200. Miracle Depositions (1233) 4. 201. Miracle Depositions (1233) 36. 202. Miracle Depositions (1233) 80. 203. Miracle Depositions (1233) 23. Miracle Depositions (1233) 34, 79; see also 80, 92. Miracle Depositions (1233) 87 describes a woman who gathered eight neighbor women to assist with her vow, and Miracle Depositions (1233) 92 features two women voluntarily taking a vow on behalf of a man who had herniated himself. 204. For similar reasons Beguine women, who lived chaste lives and enjoyed a reputation for relative holiness despite their lay status, gained a reputation for offering particularly effective prayers for the dead. Walter Simons, Cities of Ladies: Beguine Communities in the Medieval Low Countries, 1200–1565 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003), pp. 78–79. 205. Miracle Depositions (1233) 2, 36, 91. Even if their husbands were still alive, grandmothers were less likely to be “tainted” by ongoing sexual activity. 206. This is consistent with what Sigal observed, based on his sources. L’homme et le miracle, p. 85.

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petition being heard.207 The case of Isentrut of Eudorf, who suffered from a debilitating swelling of her limbs, is typical in this regard: “After making a vow, she visited the sepulchre with offerings and . . . while she was tearfully invoking blessed Elizabeth’s intercession at the tomb, she was fully cured.”208 So pervasive was the notion that proximity was the best way to secure a saint’s intercession that a man from Beyenheim actually had to remind his blind wife, after a fruitless journey to Marburg, that Elizabeth was “perfectly capable of curing [her] at home.”209 In many of the depositions we find people being cured after they have vowed to visit the shrine but before actually doing so.210 This was true for each case of resuscitation, which makes sense given the circumstances: if someone who was presumed dead managed to regain consciousness, we would expect this to happen very shortly after the person was discovered “dead.”211 But vows connected to all types of misfortunes could have the same anticipatory effect, as in the case of the mute child who spoke the moment his mother uttered a vow on his behalf, or, less dramatically, the lame boy who progressively got better over the course of the three-week period after his father vowed that he would take him to Elizabeth’s tomb.212 In a few cases the depositions make a special point about this, as in the healing of a blind girl from Anzefahr. The text reads: “three days after the vow had been made—but before it had been fulfilled—the girl received her sight.”213 Nor was it uncommon for the cure to begin at the time of the vow, only to be fully realized after the visit to the shrine, as if to remind the readers that once a vow had been made, it was essential to follow through on it. The moment three widows took a vow on behalf of a man suffering from epilepsy, he was “relieved of his malady in part,” but only after he had actually visited the sepulchre was he “fully freed from this assault to his senses and his body.”214

207. Peter Brown, The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), especially chapter 5, “Praesentia.” The desire for physical proximity to Elizabeth is apparent from the moment she died, that is, the moment her body became a relic. The penultimate paragraph in the Dicta describes how Elizabeth lay unburied for four days after her death, suffering mutilation at the hands of the faithful: “Many, burning with devotion, cut or tore off pieces of cloth. Some cut the hair from her head or pieces of her nails. One even cut off her ears and another the nipples of her breasts to keep as relics.” Dicta 62. See Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 430, and Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, p. 177. 208. Miracle Depositions (1233) 52. 209. Miracle Depositions (1233) 85. Curing from a distance was enough of a novelty for the authors of books of miracles to draw attention to it when it happened. Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, pp. 60–61, 63–64. For a broad discussion of the importance of physical proximity to the relics, see Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 444–49. 210. “With regard to the invocation of the saint, the cure could happen at any time: right after the articulation of the vow, while still at home, en route to the shrine, at the moment the pilgrim came within sight of the goal of his trek, at the moment that he crossed the threshold of the sacred edifice; but above all in the presence of the relics themselves.” Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, p. 73. 211. Miracle Depositions (1233) 2, 6, 7, 10, 47, 49; Miracle Depositions (1235) 17, 21. 212. Miracle Depositions (1233) 24, 61. See also 86. 213. Miracle Depositions (1233) 91; emphasis added. 214. Miracle Depositions (1233) 23. See also Miracle Depositions (1235) 1, where a monk is specifically warned in a vision to fulfill his vow lest he suffer a relapse of his epilepsy.

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Those depositions that recount actual visits to the shrine reveal a wide range of techniques for maximizing proximity to Elizabeth’s remains.215 The mother of a crippled boy from Esbike “placed her son on the ground at the encouragement of the conversus who was serving as custos of the tomb.”216 Others positioned themselves on top of the sepulchre.217 Still others took dirt from the tomb and rubbed themselves with it.218 Mergard of Mainz described how the dirt that she rubbed on her crippled son “entered into his body like an unguent.”219 Hermann of Brügge not only rubbed his daughter’s entire body with dirt from the sepulchre, but “hung some of the dirt from her neck.”220 For his part, a blind man from Marburg took dirt from the tomb, “sprinkled it in water and sipped it three times.”221 A few of the depositions even reveal how the pilgrims went about procuring this holy dirt. One witness reported that he got it from Crafto, one of the priests at the shrine.222 Most seem to have circumvented this middle man. One couple simply told their crippled son to slip his hand “under the stone of the sepulchre,” where, as they explained to the commissioners, “there was a hole there from which the people extracted dirt.”223 This is consistent with the advice that the old man gave to the gravedigger from Utrecht, to put his paralyzed hand “under the stone at the head of the sepulchre. The deeper you stick it in, the more quickly you will be cured.”224 In another case, Aba of Biedenkopf fell asleep at the shrine while waiting for a cure and “saw herself in her dream extend her hand into the sepulchre and touch the sacred body, which seemed to her to be wet.225 With her hand so moistened, she began to rub her legs.” Inspired by this vision, she inserted her hand into the tomb, rubbed her limbs with what she found there, “and immediately she began to walk with greater ease.”226

215. “The first wish of those who came to implore a saint’s aid was to touch the relics.” Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, p. 36, 39. 216. Miracle Depositions (1233) 33. 217. Miracle Depositions (1233) 12. See also 8, 15, 78, 99; Miracle Depositions (1235) 8, 13. 218. Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 429–30. Like any other object found or placed in contact with the remains of a saint, dirt could become a relic in its own right. See Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, pp. 46–60, for a fuller discussion of such “imprégnation thaumaturgique” (59). 219. Miracle Depositions (1233) 97. 220. Miracle Depositions (1233) 66; see also 5, 39. 221. Miracle Depositions (1233) 21. 222. Miracle Depositions (1235) 15. Crafto was a custos of Elizabeth’s shrine. As such, one of his tasks would have been to greet the pilgrims as they arrived. For more on this role, see Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, pp. 123–26. 223. Miracle Depositions (1233) 5. 224. Miracle Depositions (1235) 15. 225. Sigal cites cases of holy bodies exuding a kind of oil with thaumaturgical properties. L’homme et le miracle, p. 53. As Bynum notes, Nicholas of Myra and Catherine of Alexandria were famous early myroblytes (oil-exuding saints). Carolyn Walker Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), p. 211, 358. 226. Miracle Depositions (1233) 40. This is a good example of “incubation,” whereby a person in search of a cure deliberately falls asleep while keeping vigil at a shrine, expecting to be visited—and cured—by the saint in a dream. For others, see Miracle Depositions (1233) 3, 51, 76, and Miracle Depositions (1235) 24. For more on incubation, see Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, pp. 134–44.

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As previously noted, visits to Elizabeth’s shrine were almost invariably associated with votive offerings. Such items or services offered to the saint in exchange for or in recognition of her successful intercession on the petitioner’s behalf are specifically referenced in ninety-three of the depositions, a testimony to the universality of this practice.227 Typical is the case of Ortlieb of Grünberg, whose friends advised him to make such an offering to Elizabeth “so that he would deserve to receive his health through her intervention and her merits.”228 That offerings were considered an essential part of the process is evident from the testimony of a woman from Urff who neglected to bring any the first time she came to Marburg and as a result found no relief from her mental condition. In fact she “acted even more insane than she had before.” When she returned with the appropriate gifts, she was restored to her senses immediately.229 It does not seem to have mattered how the offerings got to the shrine as long as they arrived in a timely fashion.230 One woman from Wetzlar, who vowed to bring her disabled daughter to the tomb with offerings, decided to send the gifts ahead by means of a messenger, and immediately her child began to get better.231 Irmentrud of Essershausen took a similar vow on behalf of her crippled son, and he was walking even before the messenger, whom she had sent ahead with her offerings, had returned.232 It is not always clear from the depositions what kinds of gifts were involved. The mother of a girl suffering from an excessive flow of blood vowed, “If, holy lady, you free my daughter, I will visit your tomb and bring offerings myself,” but never specified what she had in mind.233 Of those depositions that do provide this kind of information, the single largest subset (thirty-eight) describe donations of small amounts of money, most of which were intended to be repeated yearly for the life of the petitioner. Of the thirty-four depositions that mention an actual amount, twenty promise two denarii per year, and eight promise just one. Of those five petitioners who promised more than two denarii each year, one vowed to give three, three promised to give four, and one committed her daughter to giving twelve.234 In none of these cases are we told what the money was to be used for, but it seems likely that it helped defray the cost of liturgical celebrations at the chapel and charitable activities at the

227. For more on the blurry distinction between ex voto offerings made before the performance of a miracle and those made after, see Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, p. 87. 228. Miracle Depositions (1233) 25. 229. Miracle Depositions (1233) 16. 230. As Sigal has noted, the key was the fulfilment of the terms of the vow, not the identity of the person who fulfilled it. L’homme et le miracle, p. 86. 231. Miracle Depositions (1233) 22. 232. Miracle Depositions (1233) 65. A citizen of Limburg sent a servant to take his child to the shrine. Miracle Depositions (1233) 54. 233. Miracle Depositions (1233) 11. See also 22. 234. Miracle Depositions (1233) 79: three denarii; 57: four. 50: twelve. Miracle Depositions (1235): 13, 19: four denarii. Two of these “annual donation” vows specified further that the payments were to be made on the anniversary of Elizabeth’s death. Miracle Depositions (1233) 26, 30.

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hospital.235 It would also have helped cover expenses associated with maintaining, modifying, and adorning the shrine.236 A number of petitioners simply promised their devotion or their “service” to Elizabeth.237 The woman whose son broke his arm is quoted as having said: “Sweet blessed Elizabeth, give me the grace of my son recovering his health, so that I can always be devoted to you.”238 Likewise the woman with the kidney stone promised that she would “always honor and serve” Elizabeth, if only she would relieve her pain.239 Mahtild of Odenbach went so far as to offer her ailing son “in perpetual servitude”240 in exchange for a cure, but there is no indication as to what such a commitment might entail. Such vows were taken seriously enough for at least one petitioner to consider the legal ramifications. En route to Marburg, the blind daughter of a woman from Dortmund said: “Mother, since we are people of free condition, if it be pleasing to you, when we get there, put my head on the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth and I will offer her my perpetual service.”241 Many petitioners opted for one-time offerings of chickens,242 eggs,243 incense,244 bread,245 or wax, which, apart from money, was by far the most popular votive offering; thirty-two different depositions make reference to it. Wax was preferred not only because it was essential for making the candles that provided illumination for the shrine but because it was highly malleable, allowing for the manufacture of more personalized offerings.246 There were two ways of customizing wax. One was simply to match the dimensions of a wax taper to those of the person in need of a cure.247 Gertrude of Schmaleichen promised “one denarius and two candles, one of which was to be as tall as [her son] was and the other long enough to wrap around his body,” if only the saint

235. One petitioner, Heinrich of Roth, explicitly vowed to pay for annual masses in Elizabeth’s honor. Miracle Depositions (1233) 95. 236. Caesarius of Heisterbach—who had visited Marburg—noted that “many offerings were made there, from which a stone church was built over the sacred tomb.” Caesarius of Heisterbach, Sermon on the Translation, part 3 (translation mine). 237. According to Vauchez, the promise of service to a saint was one of the oldest forms of offering. Over time, the tendency was for the service to be commuted in the form of an annual payment. Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 455–56. Sigal provides more detail about the various forms of sainteur (the technical term for someone vowing service to a saint) that he found in the French sources. In particular he notes that the service could be commuted in the form of an annual tribute (chevage) paid to the shrine. In other words, the modest annual payments referenced in so many of the vows to Elizabeth seem to have evolved directly or indirectly from promises of service. L’homme et le miracle, pp. 108–16, especially pp. 110–11. 238. Miracle Depositions (1235) 20; 1. 239. Miracle Depositions (1233) 17; see also 18, 29, 73. 240. Miracle Depositions (1233) 106; see also 8, 20, 78. 241. Miracle Depositions (1233) 99. 242. Miracle Depositions (1235) 20. 243. Miracle Depositions (1233) 38. 244. Miracle Depositions (1233) 7, 38. 245. Miracle Depositions (1233) 7, 97. 246. As Sigal has observed, to make an ex voto offering was, in effect, to substitute a symbol for one’s self, the real offering to the saint. Sigal, L’homme at le miracle, p. 88; 94–100. 247. Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 456.

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would bring him back to his senses.248 Similarly a man who broke his back in a fall promised one candle that was as long as he was tall and two others that were as long as he was wide.249 The same principle seemed to be at work when a crippled boy from Esserhausen was healed as soon as his mother laid a candle along his side, presumably in an attempt to measure it for use as a votive offering.250 A mother from the Kassel area, crying over the the lifeless body of her three-year-old son, approached the customization of her gift of wax differently, offering to take to Elizabeth’s tomb, among other things, a quantity of wax weighing the same as her son’s body.251 A more popular means of personalizing wax offerings was to mold them into shapes that symbolized either the person or the malady in question.252 A knight brought “a wax image of a man and other offerings” on behalf of his crippled son, and the mother of a epileptic girl offered “a denarius and a wax image of a child.”253 If not used to make a simulacrum of an entire person, the wax could be shaped into a specific body part, providing graphic testimony as to the particular type of cure involved. A woman who fell asleep only to awaken with a deformed face, offered a “wax face made in her own image” along with an annual donation.254 Another whose nose had been eaten away by cancer presented a wax nose.255 For similar reasons, a man from Höingen offered a wax hand and a woman from Altenkirchen a wax arm.256 The most common offerings of this sort were wax eyes.257 Stepping back from the minutiae of such offerings and considering the practice in general, it might strike a modern reader as odd that something as priceless as a cure from a debilitating illness or a lifelong deformity could be had for the cost of a trip to Marburg and an offering that invariably had more symbolic than monetary value. Beyond a coin or a hunk of wax, what, from the perspective of the petitioner, did the saint get out of such an exchange? In their attempts to answer this question, scholars have benefited from a Feuerbachian approach,258 imagining the role of the saint to parallel that played by human patrons in ancient and medieval Mediterranean society.259 Such patronage

248. Miracle Depositions (1233) 80. Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, pp. 96–98. 249. Miracle Depositions (1233) 75. 250. Miracle Depositions (1233) 65. 251. Miracle Depositions (1233) 7. Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, p. 99. 252. Sigal, L’homme et le miracle, pp. 100–101. 253. Miracle Depositions (1233) 58, 35. For other references to unspecified wax images, see 4, 44, 55, 56, 59, 93, 98, 104; see also 73, 104. 254. Miracle Depositions (1233) 57. 255. Miracle Depositions (1233) 94. 256. Miracle Depositions (1235) 20. 257. Miracle Depositions (1233) 21, 56, 76, 91, 100; Miracle Depositions (1235), 6. Hiltegund of Marburg actually donated a pair of wax eyes even though she suffered from pustules. Miracle Depositions (1233) 39. 258. “I, . . . while reducing theology to anthropology, exalt anthropology into theology.” Ludwig Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, tr. George Eliot [originally published as Das Wesen des Christentums, 1841] (New York: Prometheus, 1989), p. xviii. 259. Vauchez approached the vow to a saint as an oath of homage. “It seems likely that the rites of ‘devotion’ were inf luenced by feudo-vassalic ritual, or, at the very least, originated in the same outlook. In

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relationships operated in the following way. A person (i.e., the patron) with the power and resources to “get things done” in his particular social world would deign on occasion to use his power and resources on behalf of a person (i.e., the petitioner) who did not have the power and resources to help himself. In exchange for using his influence to help someone who was incapable of helping himself, the patron came to enjoy a reputation for being powerful and generous, a reputation that increased his prestige and gave him the social capital needed to become even more powerful in comparison with the others at his social level vying for the same distinction. Without the chance, afforded by a petitioner, to exercise this kind of pro bono patronage, a would-be patron would not have had the opportunity to build a reputation in this way. Hence the symbiotic relationship between the patron and the patronized, the latter benefiting in concrete ways from an unexpected intervention and the former basking in the social glow that came from publicly demonstrating his power and magnanimity through such an intervention.260 There is no real difference, sociologically speaking, between this relationship and those that developed between saintly intercessors and otherwise helpless people looking for the “gift” of health. Without such petitioners coming to them for cures and believing that they were fully capable of dispensing them, the saints would

dedicating themselves to a saint . . . individuals placed themselves under the saint’s exclusive protection and promised, often before witnesses, to do something they believed would please him or her. . . . If the request was successful, they must remain faithful to their ‘patron’ as long as they lived.” Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 453–54. That at least some thirteenth-century Christians conceived of saintly intercession as a ref lection of their own sociopolitical landscape is evident from Louis IX’s analogy, depicting the relationship between the saints and Christ as analogous to that between courtiers and a king (quoted by Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 461). Klaniczay cites the longing of Sts. Edmund and Olaf to join “heavenly courts” as earlier (tenth- and eleventh-century) examples of the same. Holy Rulers, pp. 243–44. Related to this, but different in its choice of metaphor, is Sigal’s exploration of the “mercantile” aspects of the relationship between the petitioner and the saint (L’homme et le miracle, p. 116). From this perspective, the vow, which initiates the dialogue between a saint and a person in need of help, can be seen as a simple promise to exchange gifts: the gift of a cure in exchange for the countergift of an offering. With this exchange model in mind, Sigal could describe “the dedication of one’s self to a saint” as “the most thorough expression of the desire to surrender to the saint that which was just obtained from him.” L’homme et le miracle, p. 79. I think that Sigal’s focus on the ex voto as “compensation” for the saint’s services (L’homme et le miracle, pp. 88–91) is correct, but it is important to underscore—as I do shortly—that the offering itself was not nearly as significant as the public recognition it was supposed to inspire. The promise of promoting a saint’s fame was the most valuable form of currency that a petitioner had for “paying” the saint for his services. John Arnold has taken a more synthetic approach, seeing the relationship between petitioners and saints paralleling human relationships of all types, including commercial, lord-vassal, and even friendship relationships. John Arnold, Belief and Unbelief in Medieval Europe (London: Hodder Arnold, 2005), pp. 70–71–87–91. Though focused on a much earlier period, Peter Brown’s thoughts about late Roman patronage patterns are relevant here. Brown, The Cult of the Saints, especially the chapter titled “The Invisible Companion.” Whatever specific models of human interaction one applies to the world of saints and their devotees, all seem to corroborate Geary’s observation that such interactions testify to “a broad, cohesive view of the vertical and horizontal relationships in a society that includes both the living and the dead.” Patrick Geary, “Coercion of Saints in Medieval Religious Practice,” in Living with the Dead in the Middle Ages (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1999), pp. 123–24. 260. A simple act of charity provides another model for imagining this kind of relationship. The recipient benefits from a tangible, material gift of money, food, or shelter, and the giver benefits from the social capital that follows from other people in his class observing and admiring (or feeling guilty about) his magnanimity.

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have had no way of demonstrating their power, their generosity, or, for that matter, their very existence.261 Even saints like Elizabeth, who went to such great lengths to cultivate humility during their lives, were not immune from this need for self-aggrandizement after they died. They were fully expected to bask in the glow of public adulation and do whatever it took to maintain that aura. Elizabeth may in fact have been especially susceptible to flattery of this type given her status as a freshly minted saint trying to compete on a field crowded with more established intercessors. In one of the depositions we read about a woman looking for a cure for her dropsy; she had “made invocations and offerings to many saints but nothing had come of them,” so she called on Elizabeth.262 Presumably the other, more established saints were not as hungry for her “business” as Elizabeth was.263 The dynamics of patronage help explain how simple visits and modest offerings could carry enough weight to attract a saint’s attention. No matter how humble, every gift or token left at Elizabeth’s tomb served to advertise her power and her generosity to every subsequent visitor to the shrine. One of the depositions tells us that when the sight returned to one of the eyes of a blind woman from Limburg, the first thing that she saw was all the “wax images that hung over the sepulchre.”264 Visitors to Elizabeth’s sepulchre would also have noticed the crutches and litters that their owners had left behind in testimony to Elizabeth’s power.265 Anyone coming to the shrine after Christmas 1234, for instance, would have seen the torn shirt of a man from Wolfhagen who would have died at the end of a rope had Elizabeth not arranged for it to break under his weight.266 For that matter, the shrine itself, paid for out of the monetary donations made by grateful petitioners, would have drawn attention to the benefits of her patronage.267 This imagined desire for recognition on the part of the saint not only created a kind of currency that could be used by petitioners to “buy” the saint’s help but gave them leverage for actually coercing favors.268 Alheid of Alsfeld spent eleven weeks at the shrine in Marburg waiting for some sign of improvement in the condition of her crippled son. Finally she blurted out in her 261. Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, pp. 14–15. 262. Miracle Depositions (1233) 104. 263. Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 133–34. 264. Miracle Depositions (1233) 76. 265. Crutches are mentioned in this capacity in Miracle Depositions (1233) 29 and (1235) 9; one refers to a litter being left behind. Miracle Depositions (1233) 3. 266. Miracle Depositions (1235) 18. 267. As noted, Caesarius of Heisterbach commented specifically on the use of offerings to finance the building of a stone church to house the tomb. Caesarius of Heisterbach, Sermon on the Translation, part 3. 268. Sigal has observed: “The vow implies trust and mistrust at the same time: trust in the power of the saint—hence the appeal for his intercession in the first place—but also mistrust, because the gift proposed is only conditional, to be deferred until the vow is fulfilled.” “In certain cases, the vow could even take on a threatening tone.” L’homme et le miracle, p. 82, 134. See also Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 457–58; and Geary, “Humiliation of Saints,” in Living with the Dead in the Middle Ages (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1999), pp. 95; 111–15; and Geary, “Coercion of Saints,” especially pp. 117–20.

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frustration: “How can I have any confidence in these reports of cures when, after having been here for such a long time, no such grace has been done for me and my son?”269 Shortly thereafter the boy began to show signs of improvement, as if somehow Elizabeth had been jolted into action out of fear of losing a supporter. Conrad of Puche was similarly peeved to find that although his visit to Marburg had relieved him of the hump on his back, he was still unable to walk. Only after he threatened Elizabeth with a boycott of her shrine did he recover fully.270 For her part, Sophia of Büdingen, having spent ten days at Elizabeth’s shrine without any noticeable improvement in the condition of her humpbacked daughter, was angry and “murmured against Lady Elizabeth, saying: ‘I will discourage everyone from visiting your tomb because you have not heard me.’ ”271 Leaving in a huff, she was no more than a mile and a half outside of Marburg when the child broke out in a fever, fell asleep, and woke up healthy. The sense that Elizabeth and her powers of intercession were somehow under the thumb of her petitioners is also evident in the deposition describing a near drowning in Wiesbaden. A man who was enjoying one of the natural baths there offended a poor man “by contemptuously splashing water in his face.” As it turned out, this pauper had, on some earlier occasion, received a vision from Elizabeth and thus felt a certain connection to the saint. In response to the offense, he cursed the rude bather in Elizabeth’s name. Immediately stricken, the man began to sink in the water despite the fact that he was an “expert swimmer.”272 Only after his distraught wife and sisters promised to visit Elizabeth’s tomb with offerings did he regain consciousness.273 Equally telling in its own way is the case of commissioner Abbot Raimund, who planned to take advantage of his time in Marburg to seek Elizabeth’s assistance for his ulcerated leg. His notary is reported to have said to him: “Lady Elizabeth really should heal you, because if she does not, we will not be there to record her miracles.”274 It is not clear from the context whether this was meant to be a threat or a simple recognition of the fact that if Raimund remained ill, he would not be able to perform his role as a commissioner, thus compromising the case for canonization. In either case, Elizabeth comes across as rather desperate for recognition. The desire for publicity that was imputed to Elizabeth opened two opposite yet complementary avenues to securing favors from her: self-effacing entreaties that underscored the dependence of the petitioners on her generosity,

269. Miracle Depositions (1233) 70. 270. Miracle Depositions (1233) 28. 271. Miracle Depositions (1233) 3. 272. A rare example of a “miracle of punishment” in the Elizabeth depositions. Miracles of this type were more common in earlier periods. Klaniczay, “Proving Sanctity,” pp. 132–33. 273. Miracle Depositions (1233) 49. 274. Miracle Depositions (1235) 3.

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and public challenges that threatened to undercut her very reputation as a dispenser of favors. Regardless of whether Elizabeth’s help was implored or cajoled, her identity as a powerful intercessor capable of securing divine favor was all that mattered as far as her petitioners were concerned. What she had done over the course of her life to earn this distinction was all but forgotten by the people who appealed to her for help after her death. Put another way, the unique example that Elizabeth had set as a living saint was effectively eclipsed by the unapologetically generic expectations that medieval Christians had of her as a dead saint. Fortunately for us, this mechanical, predictable Elizabeth is not the only image of her captured in the depositions. As we see in the next chapter, the vivid testimony of Elizabeth’s handmaids about her life as a child, a landgravine, and a widow provides the third dimension that is absent in the crude portraits painted by those seeking her help for a cure.

The Life of St. Elizabeth

At the beginning of the previous essay, I noted that medieval Christian communities relied on two very different types of information to help them identify saints in their midst: evidence of holy behavior in this life and evidence of successful intercession in the next. Of these, the latter was officially considered to be the more reliable indicator of sanctity and thus became the logical focus of official canonization proceedings. Because the details about the lives of aspiring saints really only became significant after they had demonstrated that they could successfully intercede on behalf of their petitioners, the recording of biographical information about saints tended to lag behind the enumeration of their miracles. One might even go so far as to say that the vita of a saint was a conceptual afterthought, the ex post facto product of a desire to present the life of the saint as a appropriate prelude to a miracle-working afterlife. Elizabeth’s vita is a case in point. As her earliest official biographer, Caesarius of Heisterbach, tellingly observed, “the multitude of miracles bears witness to the fact that this saint’s manner of living was pleasing to God.”1 He understood that his task as hagiographer 1. Caesarius of Heisterbach, Life of St. Elizabeth, prefatory letter, Albert Huyskens, Die Schriften über die Heilige Elisabeth von Thüringen: Das Leben der heiligen Elisabeth; Die Predigt über ihre Translation [Alfons Hilka, ed., Die Wundergeschichten des Caesarius von Heisterbach, vol. III (Bonn: Peter Hanstein, 1937)], pp. 345–81. As Delooz observed: “For a man of the Middle Ages much more than for us, lived sanctity seemed like a direct action of God. The [saint’s] virtue appeared less a human quality than an intervention by God. . . . At the extreme, it matters little that we know nothing concrete about the existence of a saint once we learn, through the splendor of his miracles, that God is at work in this world thanks to him.” Pierre Delooz, Sociologie et canonisations, Collection scientifique de la faculté de droit de I’Université de Liège, 30

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was to present her life in a way that was consistent with the ample evidence of her effective intercession after her death. As fundamental as the miracle accounts were for establishing the credentials of a new saint, once the sanctity of the candidate had been verified they tended to fade into the background, eclipsed by the story of the saint’s accomplishments in his or her earthly life. Why? For one thing, once a saint’s name had been successfully added to the canon, verification naturally gave way to edification as the principal preoccupation of the Church vis-à-vis the new saint. As useful as the miracle stories were for staking the original claim to sanctity, they offered little if anything in the way of moral guidance and thus could not have played much of a didactic role. The depositions associated with Elizabeth’s cause are typical in this regard. The miracles they describe were granted almost mechanically in exchange for simple vows to visit her tomb and honor her name with offerings. They presupposed no behavioral change on the part of the petitioner. As a repository of models of good Christian behavior, such miracle accounts could not compare to the story of the saint’s life, which, by its very nature, provided a benchmark—even if an unreasonably high one—against which average Christians could measure themselves. The vita might prompt them to seek greater spiritual heights or it might simply leave them feeling unworthy by comparison. In either case, it served its fundamental didactic purpose. Beyond providing models of Christian behavior, however, the vitae offered their audiences tangibly human representations of spiritual concepts that might otherwise have eluded them. Similar to Paul’s depiction of Jesus as the embodiment of the law, which made it possible for someone to “know” the law simply by embracing Christ, the stories of the saints allowed for Christians to connect to an ineffable God via the formation of personal relationships with His chosen few, who had successfully bridged the gap between the earthly and the divine. Though all saints were (theologically speaking) essentially the same in terms of their ultimate relationship to divinity, the “accidents” of their specific historical circumstances—their names, birthplaces, genders, ages, backgrounds, and occupations, as well as the circumstances of their struggles and deaths—gave each one a distinctive personality. The resulting spectrum of saints theoretically made it possible for each Christian to find at least one heavenly patron who spoke to his or her own life’s experience and addressed his or her needs. Were it not for the stories that were circulated about their lives, the individual historical identities of the saints would be lost, and meaningful

(The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1969), p. 29. A particularly good, if radical, example of this is the case of St. Isidro of Madrid. See Kenneth B. Wolf, “The Life and Afterlife of San Isidro Labrador,” in Church, State, Vellum and Stone: Essays on Medieval Spain in Honor of John Williams, ed. Julie Harris and Therese Martin (Leiden: Brill, 2005), pp. 131–43. But one should not push this “chicken and egg” question too far. That Elizabeth was considered a saint even before she worked her first miracle is apparent from the mutilation of her body by relic hunters in the days immediately following her death. Dicta 62.

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links between the physical and metaphysical dimensions of their universe would be much more difficult for most believers to forge. These generic observations about the genesis and appeal of the saint’s life help explain why some time passed before a reasonably detailed account of Elizabeth’s life emerged and why, once there was one, it came to define her particular image in a way the miracle stories could not. The earliest known accounts of Elizabeth’s life have survived only as passing references in other texts. One of these can be inferred from the simple fact that on August 10, 1232, Conrad of Marburg preached a sermon at the dedication of the two altars in the new hospital chapel that housed Elizabeth’s remains. It is hard to imagine how such a sermon could have avoided treating, at least in part, the life and virtues of the holy landgravine; because the text has not survived, we cannot say for sure. Another early biographical account, albeit of a very different type, is attested to by Mechtild, one of the witnesses who addressed the first papal commission in January 1233. She told the commissioners that while she was making her way to Elizabeth’s shrine, hoping to have the sight restored in one of her eyes, “she heard men singing in German about the tearful good-bye between Elizabeth and her husband, the landgrave Ludwig, who was about to set out for the Holy Land.” Mechtild was moved to tears by the sad story, and as she wept, she regained the vision in her eye.2 This fascinating anecdote confirms that sometime between Ludwig’s death in September 1227 and Mechtild’s visit to the shrine in January 1233, the tragic marriage of the crusader and the holy woman had already left its mark on the contemporary German Minnesang tradition.3 Depending on when within this five-year window the troubadours began applying their talents to this poignant tale, they could reasonably bear the distinction of being the first to depict Elizabeth’s life in words. The earliest extant account of the life of Elizabeth is a very brief one that has come down to us embedded in the letter that Conrad of Marburg sent to Gregory IX introducing the list of sixty miracles that he hoped would spark papal enthusiasm for the landgravine’s cause. 4 After explaining how he went about securing those depositions, Conrad rather bluntly added: “I transcribe here a summary of her life (summa vitae) for you so you might be more fully 2. Miracle Depositions (1233) 84. 3. Monika Rener, Die Vita der heiligen Elisabeth des Dietrich von Apolda (Marburg: N. G. Elwert, 1993), p. 2. 4. It is possible that there is one earlier extant life, the so-called Forma de statu mortis Lantgraviae de Thuringia, which, like the enigmatic list of thirteen miracles considered in the previous chapter, is anonymous and was added to the end of a twelfth-century manuscript of Isidore’s Etymologies from Leisborn Abbey. It is so similar to Conrad’s Summa vitae, although told in the third person, that it is hard to imagine that its author did not rely on the former, though Huyskens posited the existence of a third source from the Marburg hospital on which Conrad and the anonymous author of the Forma could have both relied. I believe it more likely that the author borrowed from the Summa vitae, even though she or he seems to have been present at Elizabeth’s deathbed and was therefore able to elaborate on some of the points Conrad had made. Albert Huyskens, Quellenstudien zur Geschichte der Hl. Elisabeth: Landgräfin von Thüringen (Marburg: N. G. Elwert’sche, 1908), pp. 92, 94, 148–49.

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informed, not only about her miracles but about her manner of living.” Though the letter containing this biographical text bears no date, we can safely assume that it was written sometime between August 11, 1232, when Conrad heard the depositions, and October 13, when Gregory IX responded to Conrad’s report with a letter ordering a more thorough investigation and verification of the miracles. In some ways, the Summa vitae operates like a generic piece of hagiographical writing. For one thing, it is divided between describing Elizabeth’s life (vita) and recounting her death (passio) the way most saint’s lives do. More subtle but equally telling, given the dictates of the genre, is the fact that once Conrad had enumerated Elizabeth’s many successes in the realm of the vita activa, he seems to have felt obliged to say something about her noticeably less flamboyant achievements in the realm of the vita passiva.5 In other more striking ways, however, Conrad’s Summa vitae diverged from the paradigm. In it we find no prologue, no scriptural asides, and no moral reflection; nothing but Conrad’s personal recollections about Elizabeth’s life as he knew it. There is no effort on his part to round out the narrative by addressing Elizabeth’s Hungarian background, her childhood at the Wartburg, or her marriage to Ludwig. He simply picked up in medias res, when his own relationship with Elizabeth began: “For two years before she was entrusted to me, while her husband was still alive, I was her confessor.” As a result, the Summa vitae reads more like a deposition than an independent hagiographical narrative; it reads as if Conrad were simply answering the question that he knew the pope would have asked him if he were at the hearing in Marburg: what was your relationship with Elizabeth, and what did you observe in her behavior that would suggest to you that she was a saint? Conrad’s choice of this deposition format for his Summa vitae is significant for a number of reasons, not the least of which that it has provided historians with a refreshingly direct—if frustratingly small—window into the recesses of Elizabeth’s spiritual life. Without it, we would not know, for instance, that Elizabeth prophesied her own death; that in the midst of her famously happy marriage to Ludwig she was capable of dissolving at the thought that she was no longer a virgin;6 or that she was so captivated with the Franciscan model of begging door to door that when forbidden to do so herself, she tried to take matters into her own hands by formally renouncing all her ties to this world. Beyond encouraging him to share such intimate biographical details, the deposition-like format of the Summa vitae also gave Conrad the perfect

5. Conrad, Summa vitae, 2. 6. Elliott is the most recent to gloss over this concern on Elizabeth’s part, as if it were inconsistent with Elizabeth’s unusually happy marriage. Dyan Elliott, Proving Woman: Female Spirituality and Inquisitional Culture in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2004), p. 86. See also Ortrud Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, Landgräfin und Heilige: eine Biografie (Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet, 2006), p. 94.

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opportunity to bask in his proximity to this saint in the making. Focusing on those aspects of Elizabeth’s life that he knew best—that is, those points in her life that intersected his—he simultaneously underscored the role he played in shaping her holy life. In a sense, the Summa vitae is as much about Conrad as it is about Elizabeth. Everything that he wrote about her ref lected directly on him.7 The only exception to this rule is the first section of the Summa vitae, which describes the period in Elizabeth’s life from the time Conrad began serving as her confessor up to the death of Ludwig. At a time when her husband was making his way to the emperor in Apulia, a great dearth arose throughout all of Germany so that many were dying of hunger. At that point Sister Elizabeth began to grow mighty in her virtues. Though she had always, throughout her life, been a consoler of paupers, she became at that moment a more complete restorer of the hungry, ordering that a hospital be built next to a certain fortress.8 There she took in many sick and weak people and generously distributed the favor of charity to everyone who came looking for alms; and not only there, but in all of the territories and areas under the jurisdiction of her husband, depleting in this way the revenues of four of her husband’s principalities. In the end she ordered all her expensive clothing and all other signs of her refinement sold to assist the poor. It was her custom twice each day, once in the morning and once in the evening, to visit all of the sick [in the hospital] herself. Personally assuming the care of the most abominable of these, she fed some, provided a bed for others, supported still others with her own shoulders, and performed many other duties of humanity.9 This is as third person as the Summa ever gets, with Conrad serving strictly as a narrator, not an actor. Its detachment reflects the fact that while Ludwig was alive, Conrad did not enjoy the same level of control over or involvement in Elizabeth’s actions as he did after the landgrave’s death. Once the widowed Elizabeth has been “entrusted” by Gregory IX to Conrad, the narrator enters his own narrative. This is readily apparent when one compares the previous excerpt about the foundation of the hospital in Eisenach with the parallel

7. Like so many other students of Elizabeth, Maurer noted the futility of trying to understand her religiosity apart from Conrad’s supervision. “Elizabeth can only be understood from the relationship in which she stands to Conrad of Marburg.” She was by no means “clay in the hand of a potter,” but there is no denying that her inborn character “could only work itself out in struggle with him and the spirit that came from him.” Wilhelm Maurer, “Zum Verständnis der heiligen Elizabeth von Thüringen,” Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte 65 (1953–54), pp. 16–17, 26. 8. The Wartburg castle overlooking Eisenach. 9. Conrad, Summa vitae 1.

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description of the foundation of the hospital in Marburg, a project with which Conrad was intimately involved. There in that town she built a kind of a hospital, taking in the sick and the weak. She placed the most miserable and contemptible people at her table and when I reprimanded her about it, she responded that she received from them a singular grace and humility. Like a prudent woman—which she most certainly was—she called my attention to the life that she lived before, saying that it was necessary for her to cure one extreme with its opposite in just this manner. . . . Elizabeth gathered to herself, among others, a paralyzed boy, who had been deprived of his father and mother and who struggled with a constant f low of blood,10 and put him each night in her bed for the sake of her own spiritual training. . . . After that boy died, she took on, without my knowledge, the care of a leprous girl and hid her in her own quarters, taking upon herself every duty dictated by humanity. She humbled herself by feeding her, laying her down, washing her, and even removing her shoes, imploring the other members of her household not to be offended by such things. When I discovered this, I punished her severely—may the Lord forgive me—because I feared that she would be infected by contact with the girl. After I had sent away the leper and then left to preach in far-off places, she took in a poor little boy who was so mangy that he did not have a single hair on his head. Her intent was to cure him. And indeed by bathing and treating him—from whom she learned to do this, I do not know—she succeeded in curing him, and this boy was seated at her bedside when she died.11 Over the course of this vivid description of Elizabeth’s activities in Marburg, we see Conrad surfacing in his own narrative in four different capacities: first to reprimand Elizabeth for inviting “miserable and contemptible” people to her table; second, to listen to and apparently accept her explanation as to why she felt compelled to do so; third, to punish her for risking her own health by taking in a leper; and fourth, to marvel at her unanticipated success in curing a boy of mange, not through some miracle but by “bathing and treating him” in some unknown way. The focus of his account is definitely Elizabeth and her single-minded determination to tend the sick. But Conrad is never far from the action, coming across at different times as a spiritual adviser who was willing to listen, an autocrat who demanded total obedience, and an awestruck observer who marveled at Elizabeth’s determination.

10. Most likely a case of dysentery. 11. Conrad, Summa vitae 2.

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Conrad is never more a part of his own narrative than when he describes Elizabeth’s uncertainty in the wake of Ludwig’s death. Striving after the highest perfection, [she] asked me whether in a cell or a cloister or in some other condition she might be made more worthy. In the end, she settled on one idea in her soul, imploring me with many tears to permit her to beg door to door. When I sternly refused her request, she responded: “Then I will do what you are not able to prohibit.” And on that Good Friday, when the altars had been stripped,12 she placed her hands on the altar of a certain chapel in town13—the same chapel where she had installed the Friars Minor— and, in the presence of certain Franciscan brothers, renounced her parentage, her children, her own free will, and all of the pomp of this world; all of those things that the Savior of the world advised in the Gospel were to be left behind. When she tried to renounce her possessions, I restrained her on account of the debts of her husband that were still to be settled and on behalf of the needy, whom I hoped would be supported from what pertained to her by virtue of her dowry. Once this had been done and she realized that she might be absorbed by the tumult of the world and the earthly glory in which she had lived while her husband was still alive, she followed me—although I was reluctant—to Marburg, which lay at the far end of her husband’s territory.14 Again Conrad’s role vis-à-vis Elizabeth varies over the course of his account, ranging from that of a spiritual adviser, helping her weigh the benefits of various religious options, to that of a man with predictably conservative notions about which ones women should and should not entertain. Here a distinctly confrontational dimension of Elizabeth’s relationship with Conrad emerges, as the landgravine tries to circumvent his restrictions by renouncing all of her wealth and her ties to the world. Reminding Elizabeth that she was not in a position to relinquish her wealth because her debts had not yet been settled—a standard prerequisite for anyone entering the religious life—Conrad reeled her back in from a life of Franciscan or even monastic poverty, forcing her by default to direct her spirituality back toward the relief of the poor. Again, Conrad’s part in the shaping of Elizabeth’s religiosity is pivotal, and he does not hesitate to let the reader of the Summa vitae know it. Conrad seems especially intent on highlighting his unique role in the final hours of Elizabeth’s life. Although the spotlight is clearly aimed at the

12. In 1228, Good Friday fell on March 24. In is traditional to remove the altar cloth and other church decorations on Maundy Thursday in commemoration of Jesus being stripped in the course of his passion. 13. That is, Eisenach. 14. Conrad, Summa vitae 3.

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saint lying on her deathbed, Conrad is there by her side, hearing her confession, recording her will, and administering the Eucharist. Even her main topic of conversation—the sermons she had always found most inspiring—invokes the image of Conrad the preacher. His presence permits him to witness a modest sign of her election—a small voice that seemed to come from her throat without her lips moving—and record her final words, with which she noted that the hour had arrived in which the Virgin had given birth. The Conrad that emerges from this final chapter of the Summa vitae is palpably softer, gently assisting Elizabeth’s final passage from this world into the next one. Like a midwife, his role was only a supporting one, but one that by definition was played out in the closest possible proximity to the birth of this saint. To use a different metaphor, although it was Elizabeth’s moment on the victor’s stand, Conrad wanted his readers to know that his coaching played a key part in getting her there. Like so many accounts of female saints authored by their male confessors, the point of the Summa vitae was not only to press her claim to sanctity but to press his claim to her, his spiritual protégée.15 Conrad ended the Summa vitae with two empirical indicators of Elizabeth’s holy status. First he noted—again from firsthand experience—that although she was left unburied from Monday morning until the following Wednesday, she showed “absolutely no sign of death except that she became pale; her body remained pliable as if still alive and smelled very good.” Then he testified to the first miracle associated with the body: the cure of a Cistercian monk who had suffered from mental illness for the previous forty years.16 By so doing, Conrad effectively bridged the gap between his account of Elizabeth’s life and the list of sixty miracles that his Summa vitae was designed to introduce. As noted previously, Conrad’s Summa vitae, accompanied by the initial miracle list, prompted Pope Gregory IX to launch a more official investigation into Elizabeth’s case for sanctity, which led to the establishment of the papal commission of 1233. The prefatory letter that was meant to accompany its findings is explicit about the pope’s mandate as Conrad and his co- commissioners understood it: to “faithfully preserve in writing, with careful diligence and vigilant solicitude, both the manner of living of the former landgravine Elizabeth of happy memory and the miracles, that, though authored by God, proceeded from the sanctity of her body, all duly investigated by means of suitable witnesses.” Although the commissioners ended up hearing hundreds of witnesses testify to Elizabeth’s intercessory powers, when it came to her “manner of living,” they opted not to conduct a parallel hearing; instead they simply resubmitted Conrad’s Summa vitae. The same cover letter claims that the 15. See, in particular, Catherine Mooney, ed., Gendered Voices: Medieval Saints and Their Interpreters (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999). 16. This miracle is the first one recorded in what appears to be the very earliest miracle list dating from sometime after March 18, 1232. Albert Huyskens, Quellenstudien zur Geschichte der Hl. Elisabeth: Landgräfin von Thüringen (Marburg: N. G. Elwert’sche, 1908), pp. 92–94, 150. See note 9 in the previous chapter.

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commissioners did question members of Elizabeth’s household but that in the end “nothing that we have heard . . . moved our consciences to change [the version captured in the Summa vitae] by removing or adding anything.” 17 It was not until two years later, when the pope organized a second commission, that the bishop of Hildesheim and the abbot of Georgenthal finally took the crucial step of actually deposing the women who knew Elizabeth best when she was alive.18 The resulting collection of depositions, known collectively as the Dicta quatuor ancillarum,19 or the Things Said by the Four Handmaids,20 is the most important source of information about Elizabeth’s life. The interviews involved only four main witnesses. The first, named Guda, is described in the text as a “pious virgin” who came to the Wartburg in 1211 as a child shortly after Elizabeth’s arrival from Hungary.21 The sources offer no clues as to where Guda was born. The second witness is identified as Isentrud, “a pious woman” with ties to a village near Gotha called Hörselgau.22 The fact that she is not identified as a pious virgin has led to speculation that she was a young widow whose husband had been a vassal of the Thuringian landgrave.23 In any case, she claimed to have been with Elizabeth for five years before Ludwig died and one year after; that is, from 1222 to 1228.24 Toward the end of her testimony, Isentrud recounted how Conrad suddenly sent her and Guda away so as to purge Elizabeth’s new world of every potentially corrupting vestige of her previous life in court.25 Assuming that these dismissals happened simultaneously, we can use Isentrud’s testimony to clarify Guda’s less than precise observation that she herself served Elizabeth “after the death of her lord the landgrave up until blessed Elizabeth was professed, donning the gray tunic, at the hands 17. Miracle Depositions (1233), prefatory letter. 18. In Dicta 31.5, Isentrud refers to “Master Conrad of good memory,” proving that the deposition was taken after his death in July 1233; in other words, the handmaids were interviewed as part of the second commission in January 1235. 19. There are two extant versions of the handmaids’ testimony, an earlier one (referred to in the present volume as the Dicta quatuor ancillarum) and a later one (the Libellus de dictis quatuor ancillarum), redacted between 1236 and 1241, which includes a prologue, a conclusion, and occasional elucidations that are not found in the Dicta. The Dicta is generally regarded to be closer to what was actually said at the hearings and is the focus of this study. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, pp. 112–40. 20. Dietrich of Apolda, the author of a more comprehensive life of Elizabeth in the 1280s, referred to the book containing the testimony about Elizabeth’s life as the Libellus de dictis quatuor ancillarum, thus beginning the tradition of referring collectively to the four witnesses as “handmaids,” even though Guda and Isentrud were ladies-in-waiting. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 19. As Lori Pieper has pointed out, the use of the term ancillae to describe women who dedicated themselves to poverty or manual labor (stemming from Luke 1:38 and the description of Mary as ancilla Domini) was not unknown at the time, Marie d’Oignies being one such example. Lori Pieper, “St. Elizabeth of Hungary and the Franciscan Tradition,” PhD dissertation, Fordham University, 2002, pp. 229–30. 21. Dicta 1. 22. Dicta 11. In Dicta 31.2, Isentrud is described as a “noble woman.” 23. For further speculation as to the identities of Guda and Isentrud, see Reber, Elizabeth von Thüringen, pp. 20–21. 24. Isentrud’s arrival may well have been connected to the birth of Elizabeth’s first child, Hermann, on March 28, 1222. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 75. 25. Dicta 31.5.

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of Master Conrad.”26 In contrast to the well-born Guda and Isentrud, who are more accurately described as ladies-in-waiting, the two remaining witnesses, Irmgard and Elizabeth, were in fact handmaids and fellow “sisters” who worked with St. Elizabeth at the hospital in Marburg.27 Given that the experience of these two women was limited to the last three years of Elizabeth’s life, it is tempting to identify them with the two women whom Conrad chose to fill the vacuum left by his abrupt dismissal of Guda and Isentrud. But in his letter, Conrad describes these replacements as “a pious virgin who was highly contemptible and a noble widow who was deaf and very severe,”28 and this does not jibe with the descriptions of Irmgard and Elizabeth offered in the Dicta.29 It should be noted that although the commissioners focused their attention on the testimony of these four women, they did interview at least one more, a hospital “sister” named Hildegund who shared the story of how she came to be a part of Elizabeth’s community. To corroborate her testimony, the commissioners also heard from a local priest.30 The scribes who recorded the testimony of the handmaids used the same basic deposition format that had been used for reporting the miracles. As is the case with many of the miracle accounts, we find embedded into the text of the Dicta some of the questions the commission posed.31 Thus the Dicta begins: “Guda—a pious virgin who, when she was about five years of age, was joined to the blessed Elizabeth, who was herself in her fourth year—was asked about Elizabeth’s conduct and life.”32 Later, as the other three attendants are introduced, we find them being similarly “asked,” “interrogated,” and “questioned” about the “life and conduct” of Elizabeth.33 At one point the commissioners interrupted Guda, asking her to elaborate on the vows that Elizabeth as a child used to make to God, but she “could not remember at the moment.”34 In the midst of Isentrud’s testimony, the commissioners made their presence known again by asking Guda to confirm Isentrud’s version on the events.35 Shortly after, they asked Guda and Isentrud to corroborate each other’s testimony and

26. Dicta 10. 27. Irmgard is described as a “pious woman . . . and former handmaid to blessed Elizabeth.” Elizabeth is simply identified as a “handmaid.” Dicta 35, 41. Irmgard’s low status is confirmed by Dicta 51. 28. Conrad, Summa vitae 2. In addition to these two women, Conrad also assigned a conversus—that is, a lay brother associated with the Cistercian order—to “oversee Elizabeth’s affairs.” Ibid. 29. As Reber points out, the “pious virgin who was highly contemptible” theoretically could have been either Elizabeth or Irmgard, but neither of these two could have been mistaken for “a noble widow who was deaf and very severe.” Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, pp. 21, 150. 30. Dicta 42. 31. For more on the extent to which the Dicta ref lects the actual wording of the depositions and the workings of the commission, see Ingrid Würth, “Die Aussagen der vier ‘Dienerinnen’ im Kanonisationsprozess und ihre Überlieferung im sogenannten ‘Libellus,’ ” in Elisabeth von Thüringen: eine europäische Heilige: Aufsätze, eds. Dieter Blume and Matthias Werner (Petersberg: Michael Imhof Verlag, 2007), pp. 187–92. 32. Dicta 1. 33. Dicta 1, 11, 34, 35. 34. Dicta 9. 35. Dicta 30.

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state how it was that they had come to know the things they reported about Elizabeth.36 For the most part, though, the witnesses seem to have been left alone to say what they wanted to say.37 The result was a series of short anecdotal vignettes offered in a bullet-like fashion, each capturing some aspect of Elizabeth’s holy life. In a few instances, notably when Isentrud described Elizabeth’s departure from the Wartburg and the events leading up to her relocation to Marburg, the witnesses went on at much greater length. That the commissioners let the witnesses speak their minds with so little in the way of prompting gives the Dicta not only great credibility as a source but also a level of candor that became less common as the papal canonization process evolved.38 Still, it would be a mistake to take these depositions at face value,39 as if they operated outside of the hagiographical conventions inevitably associated with the biographies of saints. For one thing, we have to wonder how much of what the handmaids said actually made it into the Dicta. Just as the commissioners scrutinized the evidence of miracles brought before them, rejecting some that did not meet their standards, they must have edited out those portions of the handmaids’ ref lections that did not seem pertinent. The very order of testimony as presented in the Dicta suggests that either the witnesses or their words were arranged in such a way that the events described would fall in chronological order. Based on the text, it would appear that Guda spoke first, testifying about Elizabeth’s childhood. 40 Then Isentrud took over, covering the period of Elizabeth’s life that she knew firsthand, that is, from the time when Conrad of Marburg first appeared at the Thuringian court through Elizabeth’s relocation to Marburg after the death of the landgrave. 41 After that, Irmgard and Elizabeth seem to have been interviewed together, since they were introduced in consecutive paragraphs and thereafter took turns offering uneven chunks of testimony to cover what remained of Elizabeth’s short life. Whether a function of the actual order of testimony or of a scribe’s efforts to improve on his notes, such interventions on the part of the commission alert us to the likelihood that the

36. Dicta 32. 37. Reber speculates that the “staccato” nature of much of Irmgard’s testimony is a product of answering specific questions that were not recorded by the scribe. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 19. 38. “In contrast to later processes of canonization, these witnesses express themselves with practically complete liberty: the depositions are only rarely directed by questions and they have not been molded by the rigid structure of the articuli interrogatorii, as would be the case in the fourteenth century.” André Vauchez, “Charité et pauvreté chez sainte Elisabeth de Thuringe d’après les actes du procès de canonisation,” in Etudes sur l’histoire de la pauvreté (Moyen Age–XVI siècle), ed. Michel Mollat, 2 vols. (Paris: Sorbonne, 1974), p. 1:163. 39. Most of the attention that scholars have paid to this subject has been directed toward the relationship between the Dicta and the Libellus versions of the depositions. For a convenient overview, see Pieper, “St. Elizabeth,” pp. 59–64. In brief, Huyskens regarded the Dicta version as the closest to the original testimony. More recently, G. G. Meersseman suggested that the Dicta version, which lacks an official preface, might have been a draft of the official version that was submitted to the pope. Ibid., p. 63. Even this hypothesis presupposes that the Dicta is an early, reasonably “raw” version of what was actually said at the hearings. 40. Dicta 1–10. 41. Dicta 11.

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handmaids’ testimony was already being shaped with an eye to the creation of a more formal saint’s life. 42 But even if the Dicta were a faithful record of what the handmaids actually said—albeit translated from German into Latin—it would still have to be handled with some of the same care applied to other more processed hagiographical texts. No matter how free the witnesses might have felt to speak their minds in front of the commission, their own sense of the task at hand—that is, providing the best possible evidence in support of Elizabeth’s canonization— would have shaped their memories of Elizabeth long before they testified. 43 And the words that they used would have been further molded by the commissioners, even if only by the questions they asked, according to their own sense as to the kind of evidence that the pope would find most compelling. In the end, for all its apparent freshness, the Dicta is best seen as a kind of mosaic, a verbal icon constructed out of carefully selected pieces of Elizabeth’s life melded together with a number of tried and true hagiographical models, all of which, by definition, had been used before in various combinations to depict previous saints. 44 Looked at from this perspective, The Dicta portrait of Elizabeth would have been subject to “distortion” of two different kinds. First there is the distortion that follows from the simple fact that the text contains only select bits of Elizabeth’s life. Because there is virtually no contemporary information about Elizabeth that is not connected to her process for canonization, there is no yardstick for measuring how much of her life is missing from the Dicta, how much the handmaids or the commissioners considered unimportant or perhaps even antithetical to her case. 45 Second there is the distortion that comes 42. Indeed, when Caesarius of Heisterbach was commissioned to write the official vita, he worked primarily from a copy of the handmaids’ testimony he secured from Ulrich, prior of the Teutonic Knights chapter in Marburg, during Elizabeth’s translation ceremony (May 1, 1236). Caesarius of Heisterbach, Life of St. Elizabeth, prefatory letter. 43. “In fact, the depositions of the witnesses tell us less about the lives of the servants of God than about how their contemporaries remembered them, that is, in the last analysis, about their conception of sanctity.” André Vauchez, Sainthood in the Later Middle Ages, trans. Jean Birrell [originally published: La sainteté en Occident aux derniers siècles du Moyen Age (Rome: Ecole française de Rome, 1988)] (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 2–3. Delooz distinguished between the saint réel and the saint construit, but acknowledged that even the former was subjected to the kind of social construction more commonly associated with the latter. “In other words, a reputation for sanctity is the collective mental representation of someone as a saint, be it based on the knowledge of deeds that really happened or on deeds that were at least in part constructed, if not completely imaginary. But in truth, all saints take, more or less, the shape of constructed saints in the sense that their identity as saints is a result of a reputation that they had in the eyes by others and a role that others expected them to play.” Sociologie et canonisations, p. 7. 44. “Selective perception is not arbitrary. It selects . . . elements that correspond to pre-existing models.” Delooz, Sociologie et canonisations, p. 11. Among other things, this process served to maximize acceptance of new saints insofar as it made them look, to some degree, like old saints. This was consistent with the theological commonplace that all saints were in essence the same; only their historical accidents varied. Michael Goodich, Vita Perfecta: The Ideal of Sainthood in the Thirteenth Century, Monographien zur Geschichte des Mittelalters, 25 (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 1982), pp. 5–7. 45. We have already seen an example of this principle at work in Conrad’s Summa vitae. What he chose to share about Elizabeth’s life were those portions that highlighted his own involvement in her religious formation.

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from recasting the most promising elements of Elizabeth’s life into the recognizable components of a saint’s life using time-honored, generic hagiographic models. 46 Processing Elizabeth’s memory for the sake of its conformity to recognized models of sanctity was the single most important task the handmaids performed in conjunction with the commission. But much of the work would have already been done for them by Elizabeth herself, for she certainly would have had her own ideas about what it meant to lead a holy life and would have used those ideas to help guide her actions, insofar as her circumstances allowed. Assuming that she shared her thoughts about such things with her handmaids—and their testimony suggests that she did—Elizabeth would have exercised a great deal of influence on the choice of episodes and models available to the four women when they stood before the commission. Then there is Conrad. By directing not only Elizabeth’s spiritual regimen but that of her handmaids, he inevitably shaped the way that Guda, Isentrud, Irmgard, and Elizabeth remembered her, even though he had been dead for a year and a half by the time the second commission convened. Of course it is much easier to appreciate the potential effects of any given model of sanctity than it is to decide which ones actually had an effect and how. In the end, all we can say for sure is that the encounter between the four witnesses and the papal commission produced a document that in some way mediated between some of the facts of Elizabeth’s life and some prevailing ideas about what constituted saintly behavior, ideas shared to some degree by each of the parties involved. With this caveat in mind, I consider three distinct models of holy behavior that might have helped define the “St. Elizabeth” of the Dicta:47 St. Radegund, the early beguines, and St. Francis of Assisi. I have chosen these models not only because a good argument can be made for each of them having had some effect on the Dicta, but because the arguments are themselves very different and, taken together, provide a fuller perspective on the process of constructing a saint’s life. Given the inherent conservatism of hagiography on the one hand and Elizabeth’s specific biographical circumstances on the other, it would have been reasonable for anyone making a case for her sainthood to invoke the model of the “holy queen,” a subset of female confessors that emerged in late 46. A useful study of this phenomenon is the first chapter—titled “From Logos to Canon: The Making of a Saint’s Life”—of Thomas Heffernan’s Sacred Biography: Saints and Their Biographers in the Middle Ages (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), pp. 3–37. 47. This approach, focused as it is on the construction of Elizabeth’s holy image, is to be distinguished from scholarly efforts to tie her actual life to contemporary religious inf luences. Two excellent examples of this more traditional approach are Matthias Werner, “Elisabeth von Thüringen, Franziskus von Assisi, und Konrad von Marburg,” in Elisabeth von Thüringen, eine Europäische Heilige, pp. 109–35; and Kaspar Elm, “Die Stellung der Frau in Ordenswesen, Semireligiosentum und Häresie zur Zeit der Elisabeth,” in Sankt Elisabeth: Fürstin, Dienerin, Heilige, pp. 7–28. Even though their goals were different, Werner and Elm faced the same basic challenge as I do—that is, finding the “interfaces between the concrete, individual biography of Elizabeth and the overlapping currents and developments of her time.” Werner, “Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 109.

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antiquity when Christianity was first beginning to spread throughout “barbarian” Europe. Like Elizabeth, the original holy queens were woman of noble background who typically found themselves married for political reasons and ended up living lives that combined personal asceticism with service to the needy. One of the earliest and most influential saints of this type was Radegund, the specific contours of whose holy life matched Elizabeth’s in a number of highly suggestive ways. 48 Born in 518, Radegund was the daughter of King Bertachar of Thuringia, whose territory was overrun by the Franks in 531. When the dust settled, the Thuringian princess found herself in the Frankish court at Athies, groomed to be the wife of King Clothar. The marriage, which took place in 537, lasted only a few years before Radegund, outraged at the execution of her brother, fled, seeking the protection of the bishop of Vermandois. He arranged for her to take the veil as a deaconess and enter a monastery in Poitiers. There she dedicated the rest of her life to serving the poor and her fellow nuns. The poet Venantius Fortunatus, who was close to Radegund and to her daughter, Agnes, who also entered the cloister, took it upon himself to write the Life of Radegund shortly after her death in 587. 49 From that point on, it became something of a model for the lives of holy queens and other female consorts to powerful male rulers.50 Even an outline as brief as this one reveals some significant points of intersection between Radegund’s and Elizabeth’s lives. First there is the Thuringia connection—Radegund hailing from it and Elizabeth spending most of her short life in it. Second, both were princesses who were forced by circumstances beyond their control to live in a foreign land. Third, each lived part of her life as the wife of a powerful ruler and part of it unexpectedly freed from the constraints of marriage. Fourth, both ended up living in a religious community of some sort. These parallels would have suggested to anyone versed in the full spectrum of hagiographical niches that Elizabeth logically belonged in the one carved out by Radegund. Beyond such structural parallels are fundamental similarities in the ways their holy lives were portrayed. Both Radegund and Elizabeth, for instance, embraced manual labor as a spiritual discipline, one grinding flour and the

48. Another potential model within this genre is St. Mathilda (d. 968), wife of Henry I and the mother of Otto I. 49. For Venantius Fortunatus’s Life of Radegund, as well the Life written by the nun Baudovinia, see Jo Ann McNamara, John Halborg, and Gordon Whatley, eds., Sainted Women of the Dark Ages (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1992), pp. 70–105. Their translation of the Venantius Life is based on Vita S. Radegundis libri II, ed. Bruno Krusch, Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores, Rerum Merovingicarum, pp. 2:358–95. Gregory of Tours’s History of the Franks offers valuable information about Radegund’s political context. Robert Folz, Les saintes reines du Moyen Âge en occident (VIe–XIIIe siècles), Subsidia Hagiographica, 76 (Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, 1992), pp. 13–14. 50. For an overview of the “holy queen” genre as a whole, see Folz, Les saintes reines, in particular pp. 13–24 (on Radegund) and pp. 105–29 (on Elizabeth).

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other spinning wool.51 Both went out of their way to debase themselves in front of their “sisters,” Radegund cleaning the nuns’ shoes, scrubbing the toilets, and cleaning up in the kitchen,52 and Elizabeth insisting on washing the dishes and forbidding her handmaids to call her “lady.”53 Both regularly left their marital beds at night to subject themselves to long prayer vigils on the cold, hard floor. Finally, both founded hospitals and used them to facilitate direct physical contact with the poor and the sick.54 I consider this last point in some detail. Venantius portrayed the young Radegund as a woman of deep compunction, one who “feared she would lose status with God as she advanced in worldly rank at the side of a prince.”55 It was precisely this fear that compelled her to “give herself energetically to almsgiving” in an effort to salvage spiritual advantage from a position of worldly privilege.56 “The voice of the needy was not raised in vain, for she never turned a deaf ear. Often she gave clothes, believing that the limbs of Christ concealed themselves under the garments of the poor and that whatever she did not give to paupers was lost.”57 Motivated by such sensibilities, Radegund had a hospital built near the court in Athies. For her it was not simply a matter of providing relief for the poor and sick; it was about creating the opportunity to provide that relief herself so that she might lay claim to even greater spiritual rewards through unmediated physical contact with the poor and the sick. “She would wash needy women herself in warm baths, tending to the putrescence of their diseases.”58 She also washed men’s heads, mixing potions to relieve them of their ailments. “Thus the devout lady, queen by birth and marriage, mistress of the palace, served the poor as a handmaid.”59

51. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 16, and Dicta 24, 39, 40. 52. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 23–24. 53. Dicta 52, 51. 54. His comparative study of holy queens led Folz to conclude that “charity in the service of Christ” was the “proper domain of the holy queen.” There simply were no saintly queens for whom such activities—taken well beyond the minimum that was expected of every queen—were not a major part of their claim to sanctity. Folz, Les saintes reines, pp. 165–67. Reber notes, however, that by the thirteenth century it was much less common for lay rulers to engage in such acts of charity. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 104. 55. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 3. I have, with an occasional minor variation, used McNamara’s and Halborg’s translation of the Life of Radegund throughout. McNamara, Sainted Women of the Dark Ages, pp. 70–105. 56. As McNamara observed, acts of charity on the part of the “barbarian queens” enabled them “to express the merciful side of power without softening the fierce warrior image of the king. Women’s power to give was, therefore, crucial to the process of bridging the gulf between the barbarian conquerors and the native poor. The Catholic clergy, who generally represented the indigenous Romanized populations, channeled and rewarded women’s efforts by promoting their cults as saints.” Jo Ann McNamara, “The Need to Give: Suffering and Female Sanctity in the Middle Ages,” in Images of Sainthood in Medieval Europe, ed. Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski and Timea Szell (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1991), p. 200–301 and n. 8. 57. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 3. 58. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 4. 59. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 4.

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Once she left Clothar’s court and entered the community of nuns in Poitiers, Radegund applied her skills as a caregiver to the “enrolled beggars”— the registered local paupers that the monastery had agreed to assist. She washed the heads of the needy, scrubbing away whatever she found there. Not shrinking from scurf, scabs, lice or pus, she plucked off the worms and scrubbed away the putrid flesh. Then she herself combed the hair on every head she had washed. As in the Gospel, she applied oil to the ulcerous sores that had opened when the skin softened or that scratching had irritated, reducing the spread of infection. When women descended into the tub, she washed their limbs with soap from head to foot. When they came out, if she noticed that anyone’s clothes were shoddy with age, she would take them away and give them new ones.60 Drawn to the most wretched of the wretched, Radegund had a particular predilection for lepers. When she learned that they were coming, she would have a meal laid out for them and would secretly go out to them. “Seizing some of the leprous women in her embrace, her heart full of love, she kissed their faces.61 Then, when they were seated at the table, she washed their faces and hands with warm water and treated their sores with fresh unguents and fed each one. When they were leaving she offered small gifts of gold and clothing.” Though the words are different, the verbal portraits that the handmaids painted of Elizabeth’s activities in the area of poor relief are strikingly similar. Like Radegund, Elizabeth felt compelled to undo the effects of a life of privilege by embracing its opposite.62 Like Radegund, she could see Jesus in the faces of the people she tended.63 Like Radegund, she was drawn to an unusually intimate form of charitable activity, aimed especially at lepers.64 Isentrud told the commission that once, early in her marriage, Elizabeth tended to a leprous beggar “horrendous in appearance.” With her own hands, she trimmed his horrid locks while his head was lying in her lap.65 Isentrud also recalled one Maundy Thursday when Elizabeth “gathered many lepers, washed their feet and hands, and then, after prostrating herself most humbly at their feet, kissed

60. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 4. 61. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 19. This kiss may have been a by-product of her devotion to the cult of St. Martin of Tours (d. 397), who, according to Sulpicius Severus, once kissed and thereby cured a leper. Sulpicius Severus, Life of St. Martin (18), trans. F. R. Hoare, The Western Fathers: Being the Lives of Martin of Tours, Ambrose, Augustine of Hippo, Honoratus of Arles and Germanus of Auxerre (New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1954), p. 32. 62. “Like a prudent woman—which she most certainly was—she called my attention to the life that she lived before, saying that it was necessary for her to cure one extreme with its opposite in just this manner.” Conrad, Summa vitae 2. 63. Dicta 37. 64. Prior to Elizabeth, Radegund seems to have been the only “holy queen” who displayed this predilection. Others, like Hedwig, would follow Elizabeth’s lead. Folz, Les saintes reines, p. 166. 65. Dicta 13.

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them in the most ulcerous and disgusting places.” The witness went on to note that “wherever she found lepers, she sat next to them, consoling and exhorting them to patience—no more horrified by them than she was by healthy people—and donating many things to them.”66 This was equally true after Elizabeth founded the hospital below the Wartburg. Unaffected by the stench that made her handmaids grumble, she “cheerfully tended to [the sick] with her own hands and, using the veil from her own head, cleaned the saliva and mucus from the faces and the filth from the mouths and noses of the sick.”67 Her experiences in the hospital at Marburg were no different. In one case she took care of a certain woman who was fetid, leprous, and covered with sores and pus, whom anyone else would have abhorred even from a distance. Elizabeth bathed her, covered her, and tied strips of cloth on her sores, nurturing her with treatments. Prostrating herself in front of her, she untied her shoes, wanting to take them off, but the leprous woman would not permit her to do this, insisting on doing it herself. She trimmed the nails on her hands and feet and touched her ulcerous face with her hand.68 The constant theme that emerges from these descriptions of Elizabeth’s outreach to the poor and the sick is that she, like Radegund, insisted on doing it all in person, challenging herself to embrace (quite literally) the squalor, the filth, and the disease. Like Radegund, Elizabeth expected spiritual rewards in exchange, not only for sharing her ample resources with the poor and sick but for eroding her own experience of privilege by exposing herself to its polar opposite. If the Dicta image of Elizabeth was somehow shaped by the memory of Radegund, it was certainly not constrained by it. There are a number of important facets of Radegund’s holy life that had no appreciable effect on the portrait of Elizabeth offered by the handmaids and edited by the commission. One of the most salient is Radegund’s fascination with self-mortification, which led her beyond the usual fasts and vigils to wearing haircloth next to her skin, sleeping on a bed of ashes,69 clamping tight-fitting iron rings on her neck and arms,70 branding herself with a cross,71 and carrying a bin full of burning coals “so that she might be a martyr even though it was not an age of persecution.”72 Elizabeth went to none of these extremes. Another point at which the Dicta deviates from the Life of Radegund is in the realm of healing miracles. Venantius

66. Dicta 29. 67. Dicta 26 68. Dicta 38. 69. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 22. 70. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 25. 71. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 26. 72. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 26.

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Fortunatus credits Radegund with miraculous cures worked while she was alive,73 but there is no hint in the depositions of Elizabeth performing healing miracles of any kind before her death.74 The Dicta’s silence on this point is consistent with that of the Summa vitae. Even when recounting how Elizabeth helped a boy recover from mange, it did not occur to Conrad to call it a miracle: “by bathing and treating him—from whom she learned to do this, I do not know—she succeeded in curing him.”75 Somewhere between these two extremes—that is, between the striking parallels and the stark contrasts—are the depictions of Radegund’s and Elizabeth’s nocturnal prayer vigils that turn out to be both similar and different. From Venantius Fortunatus we learn that Radegund used to get up from King Clothar’s bed at night on the pretext of relieving herself and then, despite the cold, lie down on the f loor near the bathroom to pray. According to Venantius, this effectively made her “more Christ’s partner than her husband’s companion,”76 leading contemporaries to joke that “the king had hitched himself to a nun rather than to a queen.”77 Isentrud described the same compulsion on Elizabeth’s part to leave her husband’s bed to perform late-night vigils on the f loor.78 Although the behavior of these two women was identical, the reaction of their husbands was as different as night and day.79 According to Venantius, the priority that Radegund placed on her relationship with God “caused strife with her husband.”80 Her “goodness provoked him to harsher irritation,” leaving her with no choice but to “soothe him to the best of her ability or modestly bear her husband’s brawling.”81 In marked contrast, Isentrud’s Ludwig was patient with and even supportive of

73. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 20, 29. 74. The closest we come to the realm of the miraculous are a few anecdotes embedded in Isentrud’s and Irmgard’s testimony. The first recounts a time when Elizabeth was carrying in her cloak many “little pots and glass rings as well as other pieces of jewelry” to amuse the poor children in the hospital at Eisenach. As she made her way down from the Wartburg on horseback, she accidentally spilled them all over the edge of a jagged cliff. “Yet even though they fell on the rocks, they were found unbroken.” Dicta 26. In the next entry, Isentrud described how, when Elizabeth began distributing leftover beer to the poor people who had gathered to receive alms, “the quantity of beer inside the container did not seem to have diminished; just as much remained as there had been before.” Dicta 27. Elsewhere Irmgard reported that a certain noble youth, whom Elizabeth wanted to convert, experienced an unbearable burning sensation as the result of Elizabeth’s prayers on his behalf. Dicta 41. On another occasion, Elizabeth’s prayers managed to stop in their tracks a couple who had abandoned their baby. Dicta 44. The two miracles that would, by the end of the thirteenth century, come to be most closely associated with Elizabeth—the bread in her cloak that turned into roses and the leper in her bed who turned into Christ crucified—are later attributions. 75. Conrad, Summa vitae 2. Interestingly enough, Venantius credits Radegund with similar efforts to cure her patients without recourse to miracles, mixing “potions” to restore their health and applying oil to prevent the spread of infection. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 4, 17. 76. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 3. 77. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 5. 78. Dicta 16–18. 79. For more on marriage within the context of Christian sanctity, see Dyan Elliott, Spiritual Marriage: Sexual Abstinence in Medieval Wedlock (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993). 80. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 7. 81. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 5.

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Elizabeth’s devotions.82 As she got out of bed he begged her “not to aff lict herself so.” Taking “one of her hands in his,” he pleaded with her, “asking her to come back, concerned as he was about her discomfort.”83 Isentrud went on to explain how she had been instructed by Elizabeth to wake her up in the middle of the night by quietly tugging on one of her feet, so as not to disturb Ludwig. Once, to her great horror, Isentrud grabbed the landgrave’s foot by mistake. Far from being angry, he “bore it patiently knowing what Isentrud was trying to do.”84 Ludwig’s tenderness toward his wife was matched by her affection for him.85 Isentrud remembered asking Elizabeth on one such occasion, when she had fallen asleep on the f loor in the midst of her prayers, why she did not simply go back to bed. Her answer: “Although I may not be capable of praying incessantly, I am still doing battle with my f lesh by tearing myself away from my beloved husband.”86 That Isentrud would even bother to include an anecdote like this in her testimony—one that risked leaving the impression that Elizabeth actually enjoyed sleeping with Ludwig—suggests to me that she had Radegund’s marriage in mind and was looking for something to help make up for the lack of parallel drama in this particular dimension of Elizabeth’s life. The problem with positing the Life of Radegund as a model for the Elizabeth of the Dicta is that there is no mention of Radegund in any of the sources related to Elizabeth. How, short of a direct quotation, is one to substantiate such hypothetical influence on the handmaids’ testimony?87 There is no encouraging answer.88 Nevertheless, we would do well to keep two general observations in mind. First, the hagiographical process—whereby recent saintly behavior is typically defended by reference to “classical” saintly behavior—is perfectly capable of spanning a chronological gap of almost seven centuries without 82. Jacques de Vitry described the husband of Marie d’Oignies as equally supportive of her efforts. Jacques de Vitry, Life of Marie d’Oignies, trans. Margot H. King (Toronto: Peregrina, 1993), pp. 13–14. 83. Dicta 16. 84. Dicta 17. 85. Folz’s study reveals that Elizabeth’s affection toward her husband, though unusual, was not unique among holy queens. Sts. Margaret of Scotland and Cunegund seem to have had positive relationships with their husbands as well. Folz, Les saintes reines, p. 161. 86. Dicta 18. 87. It should be noted that Conrad himself might have contributed to the identification of his protégée with Radegund. His description of Elizabeth’s attempt to swear an oath of voluntary poverty at the Franciscan chapel in Eisenach is strikingly reminiscent of Radegund’s dramatic challenge to Bishop Médard to consecrate her as a deaconess in the sacristy of the church of Noton. Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 12. Nor should we forget the possible inf luence of the commissioners themselves. After all, they were the ones who asked Guda about Elizabeth’s childhood, that segment of a saint’s life most likely to be ignored by medieval hagiographers; except those who followed the example of Venantius, who had described Radegund’s childhood at length. Dicta 1–9; Venantius Fortunatus, Life of Radegund 2. For more on the rarity of depicting the childhood of saints in medieval vitae, see Goodich, Vita Perfecta, p. 82. 88. McNamara made the suggestive but circumstantial point that Elizabeth was from Hungary, “a newly Christianized area whose social conditions more closely resembled those of Merovingian Europe than of the emerging capitalistic West.” McNamara, “The Need to Give,” p. 207. McNamara also considered such early medieval female saints as “the forerunners for the models of lay sanctity” in the thirteenth century. Ibid., p. 200–201 and n. 8. As tantalizing as such observations are, they are hard to verify.

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feeling the need to justify potential anachronisms. From a theological point of view, all saints really were contemporary to one another. Second, implicit parallels to established saints were more typical than explicit ones when it came to making the case for a new saint. Medieval Christians from all walks of life knew the saints much better then we do. There was less need to “spell it out” when invoking a hagiographic precedent to justify a new saint. A second model of holiness that might have affected how Elizabeth was described at the hearings and captured in the Dicta is that provided by the beguine movement.89 These communities of laywomen began springing up quite independently of one another in various parts of the Southern Low Countries90 at the end of the twelfth and beginning of the thirteenth century. They quickly attracted the attention of observers, some of whom penned enthusiastic appraisals of the beguine way of life, combining chastity, poverty, charity, and manual labor. Jacques de Vitry, who spent time with the beguine Marie d’Oignies (d. 1213), wrote a highly complimentary vita two years after her death that did much to ease the fears of Church authorities about this largely unregulated form of lay female spirituality.91 Writing in the late 1220s, Caesarius of Heisterbach—who was later tapped to pen the first official biography of Elizabeth—contributed his own positive report on the beguines, crediting them for living holy lives outside the protective walls of the cloister in the very midst of the world’s temptations.92 Shortly thereafter, Robert Grosseteste went so far as to place the beguines ahead of the Franciscans “because they live by their own labor and do not burden the world with their demands.”93 Following the lead of Pope Honorius III, Gregory IX extended papal protection to the beguines in 1233, just a year and a half before his commission began interviewing the handmaids.94 By then, beguine houses were found all over the Rhineland and increasingly in other parts of Germany as well.95 Despite the obvious differences between a typically “middle-class” beguine saint like Marie d’Oignies and a typically aristocratic one like Elizabeth,96 the 89. For a recent useful overview of the beguines, see Walter Simons, Cities of Ladies: Beguine Communities in the Medieval Low Countries, 1200–1565 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003). 90. Modern-day Belgium and the extreme north of France. 91. For a reference to contemporary detractors of the beguines, see Jacques de Vitry, Life of Marie d’Oignies, p. 18. 92. Caesarius of Heisterbach, Dialogue on Miracles, ed. Alfons Hilka, Die Wundergeschichten des Caesarius von Heisterbach, 3 vols. (Bonn: Peter Hanstein, 1933–37), 3:26–27. Simons, Cities of Ladies, p. 35. 93. Robert Grossteste’s comment was recorded by Thomas of Eccleston. XIIIth Century Chronicles: Jordan of Giano: Chronicle and Letters, Thomas of Eccleston: The Coming of the Friars Minor to England, Salimbene degli Adami: Two Journeys through France, trans. Placid Hermann (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1961), p. 186. 94. The bull, Gloriam virginalem, was issued on May 30, 1233. Lucien Auvray, ed., Les Régistres de Grégoire IX, 4 vols. (Paris: Albert Fontemoing, 1896–1955), May 30, 1233, no. 1361. 95. Elm, “Die Stellung der Frau,” pp. 14–15. 96. As Werner points out, no beguine women in the north nor any like-minded women in the south came close to Elizabeth’s social standing, at least not in her time period. Werner, “L’inf lusso dei Francescani su Santa Elisabetta di Ungheria/Turingia,” in Santa Elisabetta, Penitente Francescana, ed. Fernando Scocca and Lino Temperini, Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi nell’ottavo centenario della nascita de

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kind of life the handmaids ascribed to Elizabeth actually resembled that of the beguines more than it did any other known pattern. Moreover, Elizabeth was a contemporary of the earliest phases of this movement.97 Of the many “beguines saints” whose lives overlapped Elizabeth’s, it was Juetta of Huy (d. 1228) whose circumstances most closely paralleled those of Elizabeth. A mother of three who was widowed at age twenty-three, Juetta managed to resist her family’s efforts to find her a new husband and took control of her own life. One day she left her home and children and began tending to lepers in the colony outside of town, attracting other women by her example.98 Ultimately she became an anchoress in an adjacent cell and lived that way for the rest of her life, thus adding a chapter to her spiritual biography that was unparalleled in Elizabeth’s due to her premature death. Juetta aside, the most telling comparisons between Elizabeth and the beguines are the composite ones. What we know about the early beguine movement—for which there was no single founder nor any one single prototype—comes largely from the vitae of individual beguines, no two of whose experiences were alike.99 Similarly Elizabeth’s most beguine-like actions and attitudes are distributed over the course of her adult life, some of them playing out during her years in the Thuringian court and others evident during her time in Marburg. Looking at Elizabeth’s life as a whole through the lens of her handmaids’ testimony, it resembles the collective lives of the early beguines to the extent that she remained in the world rather than enter a cloister, made a virtue of chastity in the absence of her virginity, threw herself into charitable service especially as it related to lepers, engaged in manual labor related to the production of cloth, and was sensitive to issues of economic justice. Here I focus on the last two of these parallels, because they are the most distinctively beguine aspects of the portrait of Elizabeth that is the Dicta. The one thing that all beguines shared, aside from their gender and lay status, was a desire to distance themselves from the world without actually removing themselves from it by joining a religious order.100 Hence their determination to resist the material temptations of the society in which they lived.

Santa Elisabetta d’Ungheria, Principessa di Turingia, February 23–24, 2007 (Rome: Pontificia Università Antonianum, 2007), p. 63. 97. The full span of Elizabeth’s life fits neatly within the termini of what Simons considers the “first period” of beguine history (1190–1230), characterized by informal communities without property or institutional identity. Simons, Cities of Ladies, p. 36. 98. Simons, Cities of Ladies, pp. 39, 69. Juetta’s life was recorded by Hugh, a canon at the Premonstratensian community of Floreffe that oversaw the local leprosarium. 99. Specifically, Juetta of Huy (d. 1228), Marie d’Oignies (d. 1213), Odilia of Liège (d. 1220), Christina of Sint-Truiden (d. 1228), Ida of Nivelles (d. 1231), Ida of Louvain (d. post-1231), Margaret of Ypres (d. 1234), Lutgard on Tongeren (d. 1246), Juliana of Mont-Cornillon (d. 1259), Beatrice of Nazarath (d. 1268), and Ida of Gorsleeuw (d. post-1262). Simons, Cities of Ladies, p. 37. The best of these sources are written by either Jacques de Vitry or Thomas of Cantimpré. 100. “The beguines’ withdrawal from the world was thus more often a product of a mental construction than a physical reality.” Simons, Cities of Ladies, p. 62. It should be noted that some of the early beguines ended up in monasteries, treating their beguine beginnings as a provisional stage prior to entering the cloister. Simons, Cities of Ladies, p. 37.

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Deep suspicions about the deleterious effects of a commercially driven, urban economy led some of the earliest beguines to remove themselves from it altogether and beg. Ida of Nivelles and Margaret of Ypres did so, one with an eye to securing food and clothing for her beguine sisters, and the other to assist local lepers. Christina of Sint-Truiden reportedly combined begging with an explicit social critique, publicly sacrificing her own dignity so that she might “bear the sins of the people who fed her.”101 But begging never became a regular part of the beguine regimen. This was partly because of proscriptions that discouraged women from begging as a religious exercise102 and partly because manual labor offered them an alternative, apostolically endorsed103 option that allowed them, on one hand, to steer clear of the excesses associated with the urban economy and, on the other hand, to take advantage of the growing need for wage labor to support themselves without having to rely on their families.104 Neither Thuringia nor Hesse was mobilized for cloth production the way Belgium was, but that did not keep Elizabeth from attempting on a small scale what the beguines were pioneering on a large scale. Even while her husband was alive, Elizabeth regularly “spun wool with her attendants,” arranging for cloth to be made from it to clothe the local Franciscans as well as the poor.105 Only after Ludwig’s death and Elizabeth’s subsequent “expulsion” from the Wartburg did she actually begin to use the proceeds from her spinning to support herself. Here Irmgard is our principal source, repeatedly coming back to Elizabeth’s spinning as if she knew how significant it could be for her case. “As many know, [Elizabeth] obtained her food using the small amount of money that she earned for spinning the wool that was sent to her by the monastery in Altenberg.”106 Later in her testimony, Irmgard referred again to this financial arrangement, recounting how Elizabeth was once summoned by Conrad before she had finished processing her most recent batch of wool. “Because she had received money in advance for the wool that Conrad’s summons prevented her from spinning, she sent back to the monastery one Cologne denarius along with the wool that had yet to be spun. She did not want to keep anything beyond what was owed to her, and that included what she had yet to earn through her own labor.”107 Spinning wool was one of the vehicles that Elizabeth relied on to take her to places that were normally off-limits to people of her social class. When a count from Hungary came to Thuringia in hopes of escorting the 101. Simons, Cities of Ladies, pp. 67–68. Compare St. Raymond “Palmerio” (d. 1200), who begged on behalf of the urban poor of Piacenza. Katherine L. Jansen, Joanna Drell, and Frances Andrews, eds., Medieval Italy: Texts in Translation (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009), pp. 357–76. 102. Simons, Cities of Ladies, p. 67. 103. 2 Thessalonians 3:10 and 1 Corinthians 7:24. See also Psalms 128:2, which, along with the previous two passages, was quoted by St. Francis in Earlier Rule 7, Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, ed. Regis Armstrong, J. A. Wayne Hellmann, and William Short, 3 vols. (New York: New City Press, 1999), 1:68–69. 104. Simons, Cities of Ladies, pp. 85–87. 105. Dicta 24. 106. Dicta 39. The Premonstratensian abbey of Altenberg was located near Wetzlar on the Lahn River. 107. Dicta 40.

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young widow back home, Irmgard remembered him saying: “Never before has the daughter of a king been seen spinning wool.”108 We know from the parallel testimony of the handmaid Elizabeth that working with wool became something of an obsession for the former landgravine. “Whenever Irmgard took the spindle from Elizabeth’s hands so as to spare her, she would begin to pull and card the wool with her bare hands, thus preparing it for future use.”109 For the beguines, manual labor was more than an ascetic regimen that contributed to their self-sufficiency. It also reflected their distinctively deep suspicions about the provenance of any donations that might come their way. Ida of Nivelles was so worried that the money she received from her father was the product of usury that she felt the need to confess her doubts to Christ before accepting it. Motivated by similar scruples, Ida of Louvain chose to suffer her father’s blows rather than be infected by the “poison” of his “ill-gotten gain.”110 For her part, Marie d’Oignies was “so preoccupied with the fear of the Lord that . . . she typically gathered only wild herbs, that is, herbs that had never been sown, along with other things that grew spontaneously, to make her stew. She did this so that she would not inadvertently eat anything that had been stolen by beasts, that is to say, the alms that robbers and usurers (foeneratores) were in the habit of giving to leprosaria.”111 Such visceral concerns about the use of money or other goods that might have been tainted by usury or some other form of injustice help provide an otherwise illusive context for the unusual dietary restrictions—the so-called Speisegebot—that Elizabeth observed in court once Conrad had become her spiritual director.112 According to Isentrud, Conrad “ordered [her] not to use any of her husband’s goods about which she did not have a clear conscience.”113 This meant, as she went on to explain, that Elizabeth was to avoid eating food products that came to the court as tribute, taxes, or other feudal exactions, instead relying on produce that came directly from her husband’s allodial lands or on goods purchased from her own dowry.114 This scruple, apparently 108. Dicta 40. 109. Dicta 40. 110. Simons, Cities of Ladies, p. 63. 111. Jacques de Vitry, Life of Marie d’Oignies, pp. 44. This translation is my own, based on the Latin edition of the Life: Jacques de Vitry, Vita Maria Oigniacensi in Naurcensis Belgii diocecesi, ed. Daniel Papebroeck, Acta Sanctorum, Iunius 5 (June 23) (Paris, 1867), pp. 542–72. Elsewhere in the same text: “these ones secured their meager food with the labor of their own hands even though their parents abounded in great wealth. They were oblivious to their people and to the houses of their fathers, preferring to suffer anguish and poverty rather than abound in riches that were acquired by evil means (male acquisitis divitiis).” Ibid., p. 3 112. Francis famously refused to touch money, which, as far as he was concerned, was like “dust” or “dung.” Thomas of Celano, Life of St. Francis 8, 57; The Assisi Compilation 96; Rule of 1221, chap. 8, in Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, 1:189, 1:231, 1:69–70, 2:198. I am unaware of any such a distinction between ill-gotten and legitimately earned money in the earliest Franciscan sources. 113. Dicta 15. See also Dicta 39. 114. As Reber explains, Conrad seems to have been inf luenced by contemporary debates about seignorial incomes, which concluded that produce or revenue coming from one’s own (allodial) land was less tainted (ethically speaking) than that coming from feudal exactions. It is not clear from the context whether Conrad was being critical of such exactions in principle or if he thought Ludwig’s dues were particularly unjust. Nor

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designed to insulate Elizabeth from the taint of any injustice associated with Ludwig’s rule, posed quite a challenge for her. Despite her best efforts to maintain a steady flow of permissible foodstuffs, she and her attendants often went hungry, sometimes “eating nothing but rolls spread with honey.” Her plight was made worse by the fact that she was expected to sit at her husband’s table on official occasions, where she “would only pretend to eat in the presence of the knights or ministers, breaking up bread and other foods and disposing of the pieces here and there so that it looked like she was eating.” Isentrud noted the irony that “in the very midst of the many dishes at her husband’s table,” Elizabeth “was afflicted with thirst and hunger.”115 Of all the different aspects of Elizabeth’s saintly regimen reported to the commission by her handmaids, the Speisegebot was the most distinctive. I know of no other examples of such precise restrictions on consumption tied to issues of economic justice.116 The logic that inspired them, however, was not unique. It was the same logic that led Ida of Nivelles and Ida of Louvain to reject alms as a source of income and inspired Marie d’Oignies to limit her food intake to wild herbs. As helpful as the example of the beguines might have been for those charged with the task of constructing the St. Elizabeth of the Dicta, we can only speculate about any actual influence.117 In this case we are not talking about a model captured and passed on in the form of a text. Unlike the Life of Radegund, the beguine vitae enjoyed neither a wide distribution nor canonical status.118 If the beguine example affected how Elizabeth was depicted in the Dicta, it would have been through one of those anonymous processes by which new cultural expressions emerging in one area quickly appeared in others as well, whether the result of a single idea spreading to other places or of similar ideas popping up simultaneously in different places. When beguine communities first appeared in Belgium and northern France at the turn of the thirteenth century, they did so simultaneously in a number of different locales, thus belying the notion of a single founder.119 Within a generation, such communities were to be found all over northern Europe, including Germany.120 In fact, the

is it clear whether Elizabeth managed her own dowry from the beginning or was allowed to do so only in response to Conrad’s restrictions. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, pp. 96–101, especially p. 100. 115. Though Radegund regularly deprived herself of food, sharing it with the poor, and hid her rye bread under more delicate cakes “to escape notice,” there is nothing in Venantius’s account to suggest that her fasting was motivated by a sense of social justice. 116. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, pp. 96–97. 117. Not surprisingly, Elizabeth became one of the patron saints favored by beguine communities, with one example from as early as 1239, a mere four years after her canonization. Simons, Cities of Ladies, pp. 88–89. 118. As Vauchez noted, the hagiography of the beguines was not widely distributed, most of the Lives appearing in “only a very small number of manuscripts.” André Vauchez, “Lay People’s Sanctity in Western Europe: Evolution of a Pattern (Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries),” in Blumenfeld-Kosinski and Szell, Images of Sainthood in Medieval Europe, pp. 29–30. 119. Simons, Cities of Ladies, pp. 44–48. 120. Elm, “Die Stellung der Frau,” pp. 14. Elm lumps these lay group together as the Semireligiosentum (p. 17), a term well suited to Elizabeth’s community of hospital workers—the sorores in seculo—in Marburg. Dicta 45.

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List of the Perfect, prepared by the Belgian beguine Hadewych sometime in the first half of the thirteenth century, specifically mentions Thuringia as one of the regions “beyond the Rhine” where like-minded women could be found.121 What does this say about the mechanisms by which a beguine-like religiosity might have impacted the proceedings in Marburg in 1235? At one end of the spectrum of possibilities, Elizabeth might have been aware of beguine communities and modeled her and her handmaids’ lives on them, to the extent that she could.122 At the other end, the commissioners might have felt more comfortable highlighting those aspects of Elizabeth’s life that most closely resembled the beguines, knowing that they already enjoyed Gregory IX’s support. Somewhere in between these two extremes it is not hard to imagine Conrad—whose preaching missions would have exposed him to everything that the Rhineland had to offer in the way of lay religious experiments, both orthodox and heretical—gravitating toward the beguines as a pre-approved model for his fledgling community of female hospital workers in Marburg. For lack of any explicit mention in the Elizabeth corpus, the actual effect of the two models that we have considered thus far—both of which happen to be models of female religiosity—must remain hypothetical. Ironically the one model that is explicitly referred to in the sources is a male one: that of the Franciscans.123 The textual references to the “Lesser Brothers” in the Elizabeth corpus are actually quite numerous. In his Summa vitae, Conrad referred in passing to a “chapel” in Eisenach in which Elizabeth “had installed the Friars Minor.”124 Isentrud later testified that the wool spun by Elizabeth in court was

121. Herbert Grundmann, Religious Movements in the Middle Ages, trans. Steven Rowan [originally published as: Religiöse Bewegungen in Mittelalter (Berlin: Emil Ebering, 1935; rev. ed.: Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1961)] (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1995), p. 81. 122. This is essentially how Klaniczay has approached Elizabeth. “At the beginning of the thirteenth century, a whole series of major reforms under Pope Innocent III—the establishment of the mendicant orders, the papal endorsement of ‘tertiaries,’ the authorization of confraternities and other lay religious associations—allowed the ideals of voluntary poverty and social service . . . to become the ruling religious model of late-medieval urban Christianity. Oddly enough, in Central Europe, the chief apostles of the new religious model were the female members of royal households.” Elizabeth is a prime example of “how the ideal of poverty was adapted to the traditions of the cult of dynastic saints.” Gábor Klaniczay, Holy Rulers and Blessed Princesses: Dynastic Cults in Medieval Central Europe, Past and Present Publications (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), pp. 195–96, 209. Vauchez concurs, noting that Elizabeth is one example (along with Hedwig, Margaret, and Agnes) of how evangelical inspired religiosities played themselves out in the north. Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 175–76. Again, the actual mechanisms whereby these ideas spread are not as easy to identify as the parallels themselves. 123. Vauchez’s famous distinction between “Mediterranean” and “non-Mediterranean” types of saints canonized in the thirteenth century allows for a greater appreciation of the hybridity of Elizabeth’s claim to sanctity. Though her noble birth and her connection to a holy dynasty marked Elizabeth off as a paradigmatically “non-Mediterranean” saint, the direct inf luence of the Franciscans on her life, with their emphasis on asceticism and helping the poor, gave her holy life a distinctively “Mediterranean” f lavor. Vauchez went so far as to claim that “even more than St. Clare, whose desire for poverty was frustrated by the constraints of the cloistered religious life, it was St. Elizabeth who, of the women of her time, best realized the ideal of St Francis in this sphere.” Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 173–80 and 374–76 (quotation from p. 375). For a more detailed assessment of the social background of thirteenth-century saints, see Goodich, Vita Perfecta, pp. 69–81. 124. Conrad, Summa vitae 2.

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used specifically for “clothing for the Friars Minor” as well as the poor.”125 With the help of the Chronicle of Jordan of Giano,126 the most important source for understanding the early years of the Franciscan Order in Germany, we can pinpoint Elizabeth’s patronage of the friars in Eisenach to 1225.127 Jordan’s chronicle further reveals that a lay brother named Rodeger, one of the first Germans to enter the Franciscan order, once served as Elizabeth’s magister disciplinae spiritualis.128 Though Jordan does not provide us with the dates for Rodeger’s tutelage, it probably occurred sometime between his entering the order in late 1221 and his transfer to Saxony two years later; that is, when Elizabeth was only fourteen or fifteen years old.129 Presumably her interactions with Rodeger motivated Elizabeth to provide the Franciscans with a base in Eisenach in 1225 and to begin spinning wool for them. Minimal though they may be, Jordan’s observations about Rodeger are crucial for they confirm that by the time Conrad reported to the Thuringian court in early 1226, Elizabeth had already been exposed to Franciscan mendicancy.130 This experience turned out to be a key factor in Elizabeth’s subsequent decision to engage Conrad as her confessor and ultimately to swear an oath of obedience to him. Irmgard remembered Elizabeth saying: “I could have sworn obedience to a bishop or an abbot who had possessions, but I thought it better to swear obedience to Master Conrad, who has nothing and relies totally on begging.”131 When Ludwig died in September 1227, and Elizabeth had the chance to reorient her spiritual life, her first impulse was a distinctively Franciscan one: she implored Conrad “with many tears to permit her to beg from door to door.”132 When he demurred, Elizabeth made her way to the friars of Eisenach and in their presence on Good 125. Dicta 24. 126. Jordan of Giano, who wrote his Chronicle in 1262, had been part of the successful second attempt to establish a Franciscan foothold in Germany under Caesar of Speyer in late 1221. Three years later, Jordan was one of the seven brothers sent to Erfurt (November 11, 1224). From there the order spread quickly to other Thuringian centers, including Eisenach (1225). Jordan served as custos of Thuringia from 1231 to 1239. Werner, “Elisabeth von Thüringen,” pp. 110–11. 127. Jordan of Giano, Chronicle 41, in XIIIth Century Chronicles, pp. 49–50. 128. Jordan of Giano, Chronicle 25, XIIIth Century Chronicles, pp. 41–42. See Chronicle 34 (p. 46) for the reference to Rodeger’s lay status. 129. The rough dates are clear from Jordan of Giano’s Chronicle 25, 34, pp. 41, 47. Werner, “Elizabeth von Thüringen,” p. 112. 130. More specifically she was exposed to friars who still respected the contributions of a lay brother like Rodeger, that is, friars who were “stamped with the way of life of the earliest Franciscans” before the order’s clericalization. Werner, “Elisabeth von Thüringen,” p. 112. 131. Dicta 45. 132. Maurer went to great lengths to downplay Franciscan inf luence here. He excluded the possibility that Elizabeth was expressing a desire to become a Franciscan as “unrealistic” on the grounds that there were no examples of direct begging on the part of female Franciscans. Maurer, “Zum Verständnis,” pp. 43–44, 48. I see no reason Elizabeth could not have imagined becoming a beggar even if there were no female models for her to point to, especially given the tendency for the earliest beguines at least to entertain this option. Maurer attributes Elizabeth’s desire to beg to a religiosity dominated by the Crusade more than by the Franciscans. His general conclusion: “Elizabeth was touched by the Franciscan movement only on the surface of her life.” Ibid., p. 46. More balanced are the conclusions of Werner, who sees the Franciscans as providing both the original foundation on which Conrad built and a model that Elizabeth continued to hold dear. Werner, “Elisabeth von Thüringen.”

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Friday 1228 formally renounced her ties to the world.133 But Elizabeth was not in a position to dispose of her wealth because her husband’s debts had yet to be settled. Shortly thereafter she followed Conrad to Marburg and used her own resources to found a hospital there. Sometime in the fall of 1228 she dedicated its chapel to the recently canonized St. Francis of Assisi.134 Given what we know from Conrad and Jordan about Elizabeth’s ties to the Franciscans in Thuringia and her own frustrated desire to live a life of religious mendicancy, we would expect the Dicta to reflect this, perhaps even to exaggerate it for the sake of her case for sainthood. Certainly Elizabeth’s fascination with lepers and her compulsion to not only care for them but touch them is consistent with Francis’s experience with the lepers in and around Assisi, at least in the early years leading up to his conversion.135 Were it not for the fact that Radegund had already pioneered this kind of intimate contact with lepers more than six centuries before, or that beguine communities all over northern France and Belgium were tending to lepers in Elizabeth’s day, one might be quicker to point to the Franciscans as her inspiration here.136 The same could be said about other less dramatic but no less characteristic features of Francis’s holy lifestyle, including his insistence that the friars support themselves with the labor of their own hands whenever possible.137 Again, Radegund and the beguines had both embraced manual labor as a spiritual discipline. The only way to distinguish Francis’s possible influence from that of Radegund and the

133. The idea that Elizabeth became a Franciscan tertiary is now regarded by most scholars—including Maurer, Reber, and Vauchez—as anachronistic. Maurer, “Zum Verständnis,” pp. 26, 29–33; Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, pp. 145–46; Vauchez, Sainthood, pp. 375–76. As Werner points out, “an institutional or personal connection to the Franciscans under these conditions [i.e., Elizabeth’s relationship to Conrad] and given the structure of the [Franciscan] order at that time was not possible.” Werner, “L’inf lusso dei Francescani,” p. 69. For a useful summary of previous scholarly positions on this matter and the sources to which they appealed, see Pieper, “St. Elizabeth,” pp. 75–80, 86–100. Pieper’s study is the latest effort to resurrect a case for Elizabeth’s “Franciscanism,” relying primarily on a reconsideration of the so-called Anonymous Franciscan. Pieper contends that this text, written by a Hungarian Franciscan sometime between 1279 and 1301, contains original testimony about Elizabeth and her close ties to the Franciscans that had been expurgated from the official depositions with an eye to promoting her connection to the Teutonic Knights. In the end even the Anonymous Franciscan is far from clear about Elizabeth’s inspiration. In any case, Pieper is right to conclude that Elizabeth’s spiritual life was a work in progress and did not lend itself to pigeonholing. Pieper, “St. Elizabeth,” pp. 111, 135–38, 259–62, 303. For a recent consideration of Franciscan inf luence over Elizabeth’s religiosity—in comparison with that of Clare of Assisi and Agnes of Prague—see Maria Pia Alberzoni, “Elisabeth von Thüringen, Klara von Assisi und Agnes von Böhmen: Das Franziskanische Modell der Nachfolge Christi diesseits und jenseits der Alpen,” in Elisabeth von Thüringen: eine Europäische Heilige. pp. 1: 47–55. 134. This chapel was dedicated only a few months after Francis was canonized by Gregory IX (July 16, 1228), making it the first known dedication to Francis north of the Alps. Werner places great significance on Elizabeth’s choice of Francis because it suggests that in the end she was still inspired by him even if she never had the chance to follow his example the way she seems to have wanted to. Werner, “Elisabeth von Thüringen,” p. 123. 135. Kenneth Baxter Wolf, The Poverty of Riches: St. Francis of Assisi Reconsidered (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), pp. 63–68. 136. The first friars who came to Erfurt (November 1224) found lodging “in the house of a priest who was in charge of the lepers outside of the walls, until the people could make some better arrangements for the welfare of the brothers.” Jordan of Giano, Chronicle 39, p. 48. 137. Francis, The Earlier Rule 7. Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, pp. 1:68–69.

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beguines is to consider those aspects of his holy life that had no obvious analogs in theirs. The two most salient such characteristics were, on one hand, the preaching of penance and, on the other, the kind of religious mendicancy that combined a deliberate lack of ownership with active begging. As it turns out, both of these features of Francis’s life played roles—albeit limited ones, given the obstacles placed in the paths of women trying to follow in his footsteps—in shaping the image of Elizabeth captured in the Dicta. Elizabeth as preacher first emerges in Isentrud’s testimony when she is recounting the young landgravine’s efforts to convince the ladies at court to follow her example and turn their backs on the world.138 “Whenever worldly matrons came to see her, she would confer with them about God as if she were preaching,” recalled Isentrud. “Through the persistence of her entreaties, she would persuade them to vow to abstain from at least one thing pertaining to the vanity of the world.” Using her relationship to Conrad as a model, “she would also encourage them to take a vow of continence that would take effect upon the deaths of their husbands.”139 After Elizabeth left the Wartburg, such interventions in the lives of the worldly became more abrupt and uncompromising. The handmaid Elizabeth reported that on one occasion a noblewoman came to visit the former landgravine in Marburg, accompanied by a young man named Bertold who was “dressed in a worldly manner.” Elizabeth took the opportunity to challenge the youth: “You seem to be living your life less discreetly than you ought to. Why do you not serve the Creator?” By the time she was finished, Bertold had completely changed his ways, to the point that he joined the Friars Minor shortly after Elizabeth’s death.140 On another occasion, a young woman named Hildegund, who was proud of her especially beautiful hair, came to Marburg to visit her sister at the hospital. There Elizabeth confronted her, much as she had Bertold, asking “whether she had ever considered living a better life.” “You losing your hair is more precious to me than my son becoming emperor,” Elizabeth assured her.141 In the end, the young woman, her head shorn, joined Elizabeth’s community of sisters at the hospital. Her hair remained on display as a lesson in vanity for all to see. Of course, these examples of Elizabeth’s preaching pale in comparison to the well-documented image of Francis repeatedly captivating audiences in the squares and street corners of Umbria.142 Then again, Elizabeth lived under a radically different set of circumstances than Francis did. Not only was she a woman, she was a married woman, and as such the opportunities for her to 138. The spiritual counseling of the poor and sick in her hospitals could also be considered a form of preaching insofar as the goal was to redirect her audience from self-pity to patience. “Wherever she found lepers, she sat next to them, consoling them and exhorting them to patience.” Dicta 29; 26. For more on the preaching of patience to poor people, see Wolf, Poverty of Riches, pp. 87–88. 139. Dicta 20. 140. Dicta 41. 141. Dicta 42. This exchange actually occurred after the woman’s hair had been mistakenly cut off. 142. Wolf, Poverty of Riches, pp. 79–82.

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play a public pastoral role, convincing others en masse to reject this world and embrace the world to come, were virtually nonexistent.143 So in the Dicta we find her content with more private interventions aimed at the ladies in court and the visitors who came to see her at the hospital, trying to make some spiritual progress with them “as if she were preaching.”144 Elizabeth’s relationship with mendicancy—the other great pillar of Franciscan spirituality145—was, for the same contextual reasons, just as constrained as her relationship to preaching. But it, too, can be seen bubbling up through the handmaids’ testimony at various points. There are two passages that speak directly to this aspect of Elizabeth’s religious identity. In the first, Isentrud confirmed that the landgrave’s young wife “developed a great affinity for mendicancy” and remembered her “frequently discuss[ing] poverty with her handmaids.” She recalled one time in particular when Elizabeth “dressed herself in a cheap cloak and, covering her head with a poor piece of cloth, said: ‘I will go about this way when I go begging and will undergo misery for the sake of God.’ ”146 In the second passage, also reported by Isentrud, we find Elizabeth lamenting the death of her husband with the following words: “You know that no matter how much I loved him . . . I did not begrudge the sacrifice made by him and by me in support of the Holy Land. But if I could have him back, I would choose him over the entire world, ready to go off begging with him forever.”147 These passages in the Dicta corroborate the claim made by Conrad in the Summa vitae that left to her own devices, the newly widowed Elizabeth would have opted to “beg from door to door.” Though such direct indications of Elizabeth’s fascination with mendicancy are relatively few, the theme actually surfaces as a full-blown narrative element in another part of the Dicta—that is, when Isentrud describes the period of time between Elizabeth’s departure from the Wartburg (probably in 143. Ernest McDonnell, The Beguines and Beghards in Medieval Culture: With Special Emphasis on the Belgian Scene (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1954), p. 343. 144. Though it was widely agreed that women should not be allowed to preach, Peter the Chanter (d. 1197) contended that “gentle admonitions” addressed to a neighbor with an eye to his or her well-being should properly be understood as acts of charity, and as such they required no special permission or status. Peter’s views inf luenced important figures of the next generations, including Jacques de Vitry. Simons, Cities of Ladies, pp. 126–28. 145. In all fairness, it should be noted that the Franciscans and the beguines cannot be divided into two perfectly distinct camps when it comes to their attitudes about the relationship between begging and manual labor. Francis and his earliest followers left their biggest impression on contemporaries as beggars despite the fact that Francis regularly encouraged his brothers to support themselves with the work of their hands whenever possible. Though the beguines became famous for their role as wage laborers in the budding cloth industry of the Low Countries, some of their pioneers—as we have seen—are credited with begging. According to Jacques de Vitry, even Marie d’Oignies originally intended “to f lee so that she might beg door to door, unknown and despised by strangers.” Like Elizabeth, she ended up channeling those energies in other directions. Jacques de Vitry, Life of Marie d’Oignies, p. 45 (translation mine). 146. Dicta 28. 147. Dicta 31.3. This ties into Ludwig’s response—as reported by Isentrud—to the potential for scandal posed by Elizabeth’s dietary restrictions: “I would do this [that is, live according to the Speisegebot] myself if I did not fear being slandered by members of my household and others. Lord willing, I will soon be able to arrange things differently with regard to my position.” Dicta 15.

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late October 1227) and her arrival in Marburg (probably in late May 1228).148 The circumstances that led Elizabeth to leave the Thuringian court after her brother-in-law took control as regent are not entirely clear.149 According to Irmgard, Elizabeth was “entitled to receive sustenance from her husband’s brother, but she did not want to have any food that had been secured through plunder or the taxing of the poor, as was most often the case in the courts of princes.”150 In other words, Elizabeth chose to leave the court so she could continue to respect the Speisegebot Conrad had imposed on her while Ludwig was alive. Isentrud’s take on these events is, however, decidedly different, depicting Elizabeth’s departure as involuntary, a veritable exile. In the single largest piece of testimony offered before the commission, she recounted in unusual detail how, after Elizabeth and her handmaids had been “expelled” from the castle, they made her way down into Eisenach and “entered a poor house in the courtyard of a certain tavern, in which the innkeeper kept containers and supplies and in which his pigs had slept. There she spent the night in great joy.”151 Before the sun had come up, Elizabeth set out for the Franciscan house, where she asked the friars to sing the Te deum laudamus, as she “rejoiced and gave thanks to the Lord for her tribulation.” Moving on, she ultimately found shelter in a church, because “not one of the rich dared to take her in and offer her hospitality.” It was there that Elizabeth’s three small children were brought to her, adding to her affliction: “in the midst of that bitter cold, she did not know where to turn; where to lay down the heads of her children.” After spending some time first in the house of a priest, and then enduring the stingy accommodations offered her by an old rival, “she returned to the dirty lodging where she had been in the beginning, unable to find any other place to stay.” At that point, “suffering persecution for no reason at the hands of her husband’s men 148. That is, from shortly after the time that word of Ludwig’s death reached the Wartburg to shortly after his funeral in Reinhardsbrunn. 149. Heinrich Raspe III (1227–47) succeeded his brother as regent for Ludwig’s son and heir, Hermann, who was five years old at the time. From the first it was clear that Heinrich had little intention of stepping aside when his nephew came of age. As early as December 1227, he was already referring to himself as landgrave in official documents. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 117. In 1231 he divided his holdings with his younger brother, Conrad, who took control of Hesse, leaving Thuringia in Heinrich’s hands. Conrad abdicated this position and his share of the regency to enter the Teutonic Knights in 1234. Four years later, young Hermann took Conrad’s place as Graf of Hesse. Heinrich Raspe died without an heir in 1147, but by then, Hermann had himself been dead for six years. For a convenient overview of the disagreements about Elizabeth’s “expulsion” and the nature of her resources as a widow, see Pieper, “St. Elizabeth,” pp. 67–75. In the end, most scholars—in particular Maurer and Reber—have favored Irmgard’s over Isentrud’s testimony, concluding that Elizabeth left the Wartburg once Heinrich made it clear that he would not let her dispose of her dowry as she saw fit. Without access to her own resources, she would have been forced to rely on Heinrich and his court for sustenance and in the process would have inevitably compromised the dietary restrictions Conrad had imposed on her. Maurer, “Zum Verständnis,” pp. 41–42, and Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, pp. 118–19. Ultimately Elizabeth traded her landed interests in Thuringia for the usufruct of a piece of property on the edge of Marburg and 1,000 silver marks (beyond the 1,000 marks that were already a part of her dowry), thus resolving the impasse with Heinrich Raspe, paving the way for her move to Marburg, and providing funds for the foundation of a new hospital there. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 138. 150. Dicta 39. 151. Dicta 31.1.

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and deprived of all her possessions, she was forced by her poverty to send her children away to various remote places so that they would be taken care of.”152 Despite being desperately short of provisions, Elizabeth began giving what little food she had to the poor people she met. When a surly old woman to whom she had given alms repaid her kindness by pushing her down into the mud, Elizabeth simply “got up, laughing and washed her clothes with joy.” Compared to Conrad’s account, which barely even mentions this interim phase between leaving the Wartburg and arriving in Marburg, Isentrud’s version is long and not a little dramatic, carefully enumerating, even savoring the inconveniences and indignities that Elizabeth and her handmaids suffered along the way. It was as if Elizabeth, denied the chance to become a mendicant, would not let Conrad’s prohibition keep her from experiencing this brief period of dislocation as one of homelessness, itinerancy, dependence, and shame—all key ingredients of religious mendicancy as pioneered by St. Francis. If what actually happened during this time did not quite meet Elizabeth’s standards for perfect poverty, it was as close as she was likely to get, and she was going to make the most of it.153 Or at least Isentrud was, for the sake of Elizabeth’s canonization. Indicative of the heavy narrative weight placed by Isentrud on this period of mendicancy are the two visions Elizabeth experienced, the only ones attributed to her prior to her deathbed. According to Isentrud, they occurred during Lent,154 the first of them “in church when the host was being offered.” Despite her handmaid’s pleading, Elizabeth would not share its contents with her. But she did open up about her second vision, which happened shortly after they had returned from church to their temporary lodging. Elizabeth described how the heavens had opened up to her and she had seen Jesus inviting her to join Him there. Her response: “Lord, you want to be with me and I want to be with you and never do I want to be apart from you.”155 There is nothing particularly unusual about this vision in the context of medieval mysticism. Elizabeth was certainly not the only female saint who felt as if she were being courted by Jesus. For our purposes, the important thing about these visions is the timing. 152. Her oldest child, Hermann, would no doubt have returned to the Wartburg to be groomed for his succession. Sophie probably would have gone back, too. Gertrude, who according to tradition had been promised by her parents to a monastery before she was even born, would have stayed with Elizabeth longer, given her tender age. Eventually she was sent to the Abbey of Altenberg, where she ultimately became abbess. 153. This assessment of Isentrud’s account as a Francis-inspired “construct” runs counter to the standard interpretation, which treats the account as an accurate ref lection of Elizabeth’s experiences after she left the Wartburg. See, for instance, Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, pp. 119–22; and Pieper, “St. Elizabeth,” pp. 183–84. The beauty of my approach is that it helps explain why—if Elizabeth was the widow of a prominent crusader whose property was under papal protection during his absence—neither Gregory IX nor Conrad of Marburg intervened the moment she was “ejected” by Heinrich Raspe. If Elizabeth’s “exile” was self-imposed and/or exaggerated with mendicant models in mind, then the apparent nonchalance on the part of the pope and Conrad makes more sense. 154. In 1228, Lent began on February 8. 155. Dicta 31.2. Reber locates these visions within the contemporary contexts of courtly love, the elevation of the host, and the popularity of the Song of Songs. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, pp. 123–27.

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Right in the middle of Elizabeth’s self-imposed exile, her period of mendicancy after her “expulsion” from the Wartburg, she received unambiguous heavenly confirmation that she was on the right path, the path that she would have followed if Conrad had let her. Whether she actually experienced her life between the Wartburg and Marburg in this way or Isentrud simply depicted it like this during her interview, the narrative structure imposed on this episode, by far the longest in the Dicta, is informed by mendicancy. Even with so many verifiable intersections between Elizabeth and the Lesser Brothers in Germany, any attribution of Franciscan influence on Elizabeth’s spiritual formation has to take into account the pivotal, sustained role played by Conrad. Though Conrad had been dead for a year and a half by the time the commission summoned the handmaids, his influence over the proceedings in January 1235 would have been palpable. After all, Conrad became Elizabeth’s confessor shortly after he arrived at the Thuringian court in early 1226, and then, before the end of that year, accepted her oath of obedience. In early 1228, he was appointed guardian of the newly widowed Elizabeth and a few months later escorted her to Marburg where they built a hospital and established a small community of “sisters” under his direction to tend the sick. Nor can one ignore the effect of Conrad’s “stamp” on the handmaids who testified at the commission. After all, they had each subjected themselves to the same vow of obedience and were equally shaped by Conrad’s goals, logic, and methods. This high level of influence over Elizabeth and the four women who testified about her, combined with the fact that Conrad, like Francis, was known precisely for his preaching and mendicancy, complicates any effort to pinpoint the provenance of these two ostensibly Franciscan features of Elizabeth’s holy life as they come across in the Dicta.156 Conrad’s precise institutional affiliation within the Church is not clear.157 The most complete description of him is found in the official vita of Elizabeth penned by Caesarius of Heisterbach sometime between the translation of her remains in 1236 and his death four years later.158 Reflecting on Conrad’s life for the purposes of contextualizing Elizabeth’s, Caesarius observed: Conrad was an highly educated man and most famous for his preaching, a most bitter critic of vice, a terror to tyrants, and an indefatigable persecutor of heretics. . . . He first received from the lord Pope Innocent [III]

156. “To impose a sharp distinction between those inf luences that came from the early Friars Minor and Rodeger, and those behaviors that came from Conrad of Marburg . . . is not possible.” Werner, “Elisabeth von Thüringen,” p. 117. See also Elm, “Die Stellung der Frau,” pp. 7–8. 157. Maurer has made a strong argument in support of Premonstratensian ties, concurring with Karl May. “Zum Verständnis,” pp. 34–41. Karl May, “Zur Geschichte Konrads von Marburg,” Hessisches Jahrbuch für Landesgeschichte 1 (1951), pp. 89–101. 158. Conrad actually knew Caesarius or at least was aware of his reputation as an author, for, as Caesarius tells us in the prefatory letter to the vita, it was Conrad who originally recommended him for this hagiographic task. Caesarius, Life of St. Elizabeth, prefatory letter.

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the authority to preach against the Saracens,159 and was very successful, countless [Christians] taking up the cross against them. Then under Innocent’s successors—first Pope Honorius [III] of good memory, and then the one who still holds the Roman pontificate today, that is, the lord Gregory [IX]—he made his way through almost all of Germany mounted on a very small mule, preaching similarly but with greater authority, as much for the correction of morals as for the repression of the heretics. Innumerable crowds of people of both sexes and from various provinces followed him, enticed by the words of his teaching and attracted by the great indulgences that he issued at each stop. Although he dressed in the habit of the secular clergy, he possessed nothing in this world nor did he care to possess anything: no prebends, no churches, nor any other dignities. He afflicted and mortified his body with assiduous fasts and many labors, lest perchance, preaching to others, he be found to be a reprobate himself.160 What stands out most in this near contemporary portrait of Conrad is his role as a preacher whose talents had been enlisted by three consecutive popes in their efforts to promote the Crusade and suppress heresy. This is a task he shared with a number of other “freelance” preachers of the time, including, most famously, Jacques de Vitry but also Conrad’s immediate supervisor in the ecclesiastical province of Mainz, Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim.161 What set Conrad apart was not only the duration of his service as a preacher but his strikingly austere lifestyle, combining a complete lack of personal possessions with a categorical rejection of all church incomes and titles.162 This potent combination of preaching and personal asceticism put him in the same general category as Robert of Arbrissel (d. 1116), who preached the First Crusade, and Fulk de Neuilly (d. 1201), who preached the Fourth.163 With all of this experience as an ascetic and a preacher, not to mention his dutiful service to three popes who were intent on ecclesiastical reform and the reconquest of Jerusalem, Conrad was assigned to the court of Ludwig IV to help the landgrave prepare to join Frederick II on Crusade.164 By then Elizabeth had 159. That is, Innocent III enlisted him as a preacher of the Crusade (in 1215). 160. Caesarius of Heisterbach, Life of St. Elizabeth 4. 1 Corinthians 9:27. 161. See, in particular, Stephan Tebruck, “Militia Christi—Imitatio Christi: Kreuzzugsidee und Armutsideal am Thüringischen Landgrafenhof zur zeit der heiligen Elisabeth,” in Elisabeth von Thüringen: eine europaïsche Heilige, pp. 137–52; and Penny Cole, The Preaching of the Crusades to the Holy Land, 1095–1270 (Cambridge, Mass.: Medieval Academy of America, 1991), especially pp. 98–158. 162. Tebruck, “Militia Christi—Imitatio Christi,” p. 139. 163. Conrad may have been inf luenced by the circle of Peter the Chanter (d. 1197), which included Jacques de Vitry (d. 1240) and his classmate, Caesar of Speyer (d. 1239), who went on to join the Franciscans and become the first provincial-minister of the order in Germany (1221–23). Tebruck, “Militia Christi— Imitatio Christi,” p. 139. For more on Peter the Chanter, see John Baldwin, Masters, Princes, and Merchants: The Social Views of Peter the Chanter and his Circle, 2 vols. (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1970). 164. With regard to the Crusade, Conrad worked under Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim as his representative to the Thuringian court. Maurer emphasized Conrad’s role vis-à-vis the Crusade as the defining factor

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already, as we have seen, developed an affinity for the Franciscans. Not only had a Franciscan lay brother served as her spiritual director three or four years before, but she had just helped the friars of Erfurt set up a new base of operations in Eisenach. Under these circumstances, it makes sense that Conrad and Elizabeth would have developed a close relationship. To Conrad, Elizabeth would have seemed a spiritually sympathetic woman of royal blood who could spearhead a penitentially based reform of court life that would help ensure the success of the Crusade.165 To Elizabeth, Conrad would have seemed a conveniently placed practitioner of poverty who could help craft a life in court that would in some way resemble what she so admired in Rodeger and his brothers in Eisenach. The needs of both would be served if Conrad could help her dismantle the life of privilege she had known from the day she was born—that is, “to cure one extreme with its opposite.”166 Given this natural symbiosis, how are we to separate Conrad’s influence from that of Rodeger and the Franciscans when it comes to assessing Elizabeth’s holy life as depicted in the Dicta? With regard to Elizabeth and preaching, it is clear that she had a great appreciation for sermons, whether inspired by Rodeger or Conrad or both. Conrad specifically testified to her dying request that he rehearse with her “the best things that she had ever heard in sermons, especially about the raising up of Lazarus and how the Lord cried in response to it.”167 Though the language is ambiguous, it is probably safe to assume that Elizabeth was talking about Conrad’s sermons. With regard to Elizabeth’s role as a preacher, Jordan of Giano is silent about whether Rodeger instilled in the landgravine the impulse to preach penance to any and all who would listen, as Francis was famous for doing. That Conrad would encourage Elizabeth to do so in her own intramural way makes sense if he was hoping to effect some kind of pre-Crusade reform of court life, using Elizabeth as an example.168 He may have conceived of the

in his relationship with Elizabeth. Put succinctly, “his relationship to Elizabeth was part of the defensio that he owed Ludwig as a crusader.” Maurer, “Zum Verständnis,” pp. 26, 23, 34–41. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, pp. 92–94, 105–16. For more recent ref lections on the relationship between the Crusade and Elizabeth’s spiritual formation, see Tebruck, “Militia Christi—Imitatio Christi,” pp. 137–52. 165. Maurer, “Zum Verständnis,” pp. 26, 44–48. Insofar as the Crusades were seen through an Old Testament, holy war lens, such a propitiation of deity would have been perceived as the sine qua non of Crusade success. 166. Contraria contrariis curare. Conrad, Summa vitae 2. Werner rightly sees this principle as Conrad’s real contribution to Elizabeth’s formation, the thread that runs through all aspects of her spiritual life, from the Speisegebot to the “hands-on” care for lepers. There are no other examples of such a high-ranking person subjecting him- or herself to life in such a Hospitalbruderschaft. Werner, “Elisabeth von Thüringen,” pp. 116–17, 122–23. Elliott sees Conrad’s treatment of Elizabeth as an example of “purgative probation,” a Job-like testing of the innocent Elizabeth by subjecting her to various aff lictions. From Elliott’s perspective, Conrad was motivated less by his promotion of the crusade than by his antiheresy campaign. According to this view, Elizabeth’s enforced obedience to Conrad mirrored his and Gregory’s dreams of an obedient Church. Elliott uses a close study of Caesarius’s Life of St. Elizabeth to develop this theme. Elliott, Proving Woman, pp. 107–16. 167. Conrad, Summa vitae 3. 168. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 101. Werner, “Elisabeth von Thüringen,” p. 118. It is clear from the examples of Elizabeth’s “preaching” that have come down to us that her focus was on penance. This was consistent with Conrad’s effort to infuse the Thuringian court with an appropriately penitential mindset on

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Speisegebot as the first step in the direction of an overhaul of court norms, drawing attention, as it did, to the excesses and injustices unconsciously or apathetically committed by Elizabeth’s peers. There was no way, given the nature of her responsibilities as landgravine, that Elizabeth would have been able to hide such an austere regimen. Indeed we know from the handmaids’ testimony that Elizabeth’s example opened Ludwig up to a torrent of criticism from the Thuringian elite.169 Her implicit criticism of their privileged lives may account for some of the pressure that ultimately led her to leave the Wartburg after her husband’s death. Deciding between Rodeger’s and Conrad’s influence on Elizabeth’s mendicancy is easier. We know from Jordan of Giano that Elizabeth had Rodeger as her “master of spiritual discipline” for a time before she met Conrad. Although Jordan tells us that Rodeger taught Elizabeth to “observe chastity, humility, and patience, to keep watch in prayer, and to apply herself to works of mercy,”170 his mendicant lifestyle seems to have left the deepest impression on her. This follows from what Elizabeth later told Irmgard about her reasons for swearing obedience to Conrad as opposed to some bishop or abbot: because he “has nothing and relies totally on begging.”171 That Elizabeth and/or Irmgard should have used the word “begging” (mendicans) when describing how Conrad supported himself reminds us that the word mendicans would have suggested to a medieval reader something broader than “begging” does to us: to wit, living a life in the world without personal possessions, relying entirely on the hospitality of others. Caesarius of Heisterbach’s description of Conrad is helpful here: “Although he dressed in the habit of the secular clergy, he possessed nothing in this world nor did he care to possess anything: no prebends, no churches, nor any other dignities.”172 In short, it was possible for Conrad to be a mendicant without ever wielding a beggar’s bowl. This is important to keep in mind when considering Isentrud’s use of a form of the same word when referring to Elizabeth’s great affinity for mendicancy (multum affectabat mendicitatem) and describing how the landgravine used to dress herself in rags and say: ‘I will go about this way when I go begging’ ” (mendicabo).173 The question is: did Elizabeth’s inspiration for this masquerade come from Rodeger or from Conrad? Happily, Conrad’s Summa vitae provides us with the crucial datum for deciding between the two. Recounting how Elizabeth insisted on being allowed to mendicare, Conrad specifically reported that she wanted

the eve of the Crusade. It was also consistent with the focus of the sermons of Francis and his original followers. Francis, as a layman, was forbidden to preach anything but penance. Wolf, Poverty of Riches, pp. 79–81. 169. “As a result of this unusual way of living, she as well as her husband—because he permitted itwere the object of a great deal of scorn from their own people.” Dicta 15. 170. Jordan of Giano, Chronicle 41, XIIIth Century Chronicles, p. 42. 171. Dicta 45. 172. Caesarius of Heisterbach, Life of St. Elizabeth 4. 173. Dicta 28.

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to “beg door to door” (hostiatim mendicare),174 and this “door-to-door” type of begging is what distinguished the Franciscan form of mendicitas from the one that Conrad practiced.175 Although Elizabeth was drawn to Conrad because he practiced a mendicant lifestyle, her own mendicant fantasies, captured in the testimony of Isentrud, were of the more radical Franciscan variety, the kind of mendicancy that even the Franciscans at the time were beginning to outgrow.176 So where does this leave us in our effort to pinpoint the models of sanctity that influenced how the handmaids remembered Elizabeth and how the commissioners processed their reminiscences? With more questions than answers, it would seem. After all of this speculation, we find ourselves faced with a version of the same problem that has confronted every scholar who has ever tried to locate Elizabeth’s type of holy life within the complex religious landscape of early thirteenth-century Europe. Whether the question is how Elizabeth actually lived her life or how her life was constructed for the sake of her canonization, there are simply too many different models and combinations of models that could be reasonably invoked. As a result, one feels drawn toward a modern, secular version of the approach taken by medieval hagiographers, who habitually downplayed the “accidental” differences between individual saints and accentuated their “essential” similarities. This is essentially the path followed by Herbert Grundmann, who famously drew attention to the “comprehensive interconnection of religious development” in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries by interpreting all of the religious experiments of the time as products of the same evangelically inspired impulse.177 As important

174. Conrad, Summa vitae 2. 175. See Miracle Depositions (1233) 3 for the use of the same term (hostiatim mendicando) in reference to the young cripple Sophia of Büdingen, who had to beg to support herself before she was finally cured. 176. Relevant to this discussion is one particular line of the Forma de statu mortis, that variation on Conrad’s Summa vitae that we referred to previously in note 4. When recounting Elizabeth’s last will and testament, the Summa vitae simply paraphrases her desire to distribute everything but her tunic to the poor. But the Forma has Elizabeth reminding Conrad that when he forbid her—on Good Friday in the presence of the Franciscans—from alienating all of her possessions, she agreed to keep just enough to pay Ludwig’s debts and allow for almsgiving, until Conrad permitted her to “let go of everything completely and live from daily alms received in isolation from the other poor.” This source, then, actually lays out the circumstances under which Conrad would have allowed Elizabeth to live solely on alms, once her obligations were fulfilled—that is, if those alms were “received in isolation from the other poor.” The author seems to suggest by this that Conrad did not have a problem with Elizabeth relying on alms as long as she did not collect them herself. In other words her “begging” would resemble that of Clare and her sisters, whose alms were secured for them by male friars. It is not clear from the passage whether Conrad ever did gave his permission for Elizabeth to support herself in this manner. It is possible that her life at the hospital in Marburg was predicated on this principle. We simply do not know. 177. Grundmann, Religious Movements, pp. 4, 7–30, 76, 209–13, 219–26. Werner’s conclusions on the subject ref lect a similarly synthetic approach: “The beginnings of [Elizabeth’s religious] longing, which the oaths of early 1226 reveal with such certainty, actually reach further back in time. While the inf luence of the women’s religious movement might have nudged Elizabeth toward a gradual rejection of court life, and the experience of the Franciscans might have further fortified her turn toward the poverty ideal and her selfsacrifice to God in imitation of Christ, in the end it was her encounter with Conrad of Marburg that led to her decisive decision to fulfill her desire.” Werner, “Die heilige Elisabeth,” p. 50.

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as Grundmann’s legacy has been, his search for the common denominator ought not to detract from a considered appreciation of the many different numerators. The historically specific differences between our three holy models truly mattered when it came to making a claim for Elizabeth’s inclusion in the canon of saints. Though the Franciscans get most of the attention—and understandably so given what we know about their actual relationship with the historical Elizabeth—we should not forget how different Elizabeth’s path was from Clare’s; or, looked at another way, how different Elizabeth’s path might have been if a Franciscan had taken charge of her spiritual development instead of Conrad. In order for Elizabeth to have been inspired by Francis and yet not end up cloistered like Clare, she needed the conceptual space provided by the beguines, on the one hand, and Radegund, on the other. The beguines provided her and her handmaids with an example of lay female sanctity that was still basking in the light of a recent, unambiguous papal imprimatur. And Ragedund showed them that a beguine-like life built on personal austerity, manual labor, and intimate contact with lepers was possible even for a woman of Elizabeth’s royal pedigree.

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part 11

The Sources

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The Miracle List (August 1232)

This list is the product of the earliest official inquiry into the miracle activity associated with Elizabeth’s tomb. Based on interviews conducted in Marburg on August 11, 1232, it was sent to Pope Gregory IX along with Conrad of Marburg’s brief summary of Elizabeth’s life, the Summa vitae, which follows. To the most holy father and lord Gregory [IX], supreme pontiff of the sacred Roman church, Siegfried, by divine mercy the archbishop of Mainz; the abbots of Arnsburg and Bildhausen of the Cistercian order; the abbots of Rommersdorf, Arnstein, and Cappel of the Premonstratensian order; the priors of St. Stephen of Bingen and of Werberg; the deacon of Momberg; and the preachers Master Conrad of Marburg and Brother Angel of the Friars Minor; offer a most eager display of filial reverence and appropriate obedience, accompanied by the kissing of your holy feet. In the region of Germany, where the orthodox faith had typically flourished, the virulent seed of heretical depravity began to sprout and spread most dangerously. But Christ, who does not allow his own to be tempted beyond their power,1 raised up various kinds of torments and death for the sake of overcoming the pertinacity of the heretics, crushing and refuting them in a most marvelous manner, while at the same time revealing the truth of our faith through a great many miracles and exercises of power, worked repeatedly and magnificently to the glory and honor

1. 1 Corinthians 10:13.

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of that lady of happy memory, Elizabeth, the former landgravine of Thuringia. We have ordered some of these, reported to us in good faith by witnesses testifying under oath, to be recorded for your paternity. 1. Sophya of Feldbach’s eleven-year-old son who was lame, having been deprived of full control over his body to the point that he walked on his hands and feet like a quadruped, was restored to health at the tomb of the aforementioned noblewoman. Witnesses: Crafto, Cunrad, and Adolf of Burbach, priests. 2. A certain ten-year-old girl of Bicken, who was without the use of her feet and hands and who was humpbacked and greatly impeded in the use of her tongue, was cured of all of these things. Witnesses: the priest of the same village, Hedewig, a married woman, and Elizabeth, a religious woman.2 3. Gerard of Burbach and Adolf, a priest of the same village, presented, on the Feast of the Lord’s Supper,3 a certain boy who was crippled in such a way that his knees had grown together with his abdomen and the skin of his abdomen had become putrid, and there he was restored to health. Witness: Johannes the priest. 4. Petrissa of Wetzlar said that her son, blind in one eye, received his vision. Witness: Methild. 5. Meingot and Methild of Wetzlar said that this same woman [i.e., Methild], who had been blind in one eye received her vision. 6. A certain mute and mad man from Fronhausen received his health completely. Witnesses: Master Conrad of Marburg and Ludewic, the priest of the village. 7. Heidenric of Gießen said under oath that he saw his daughter, who had suffered from something like fistulas over her entire body, cured upon invoking Elizabeth. 8. A certain Rudolf of Dilsberg said that upon invoking Elizabeth’s name he received vision in one eye. 9. Henric of Cleeberg said that he escaped a serious infirmity of the abdomen through the merits of this one. 10. A certain girl of Cologne who was crippled, humpbacked, and blind, was fully cured at her tomb; she was likewise cured of scrofula. 4 Witnesses: the rectors of the hospital, Master Conrad of Marburg, and many others. 11. A certain boy blind from birth was cured at her tomb. Witnesses: the same as those above. 2. This could have been the handmaid Elizabeth, one of the four women who testified about St. Elizabeth in 1235. 3. April 8, 1232. 4. Scrofula (struma) refers to a growth on the neck typically resulting from a form of tuberculosis.

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12. A certain man from Boppard, who was blind in one eye, was cured at her tomb. Witnesses: the rectors of the hospital. 13. A certain man from Limburg with a broken back, who was bent over as if humpbacked, was cured, made erect at her tomb. Witnesses: the rectors of the hospital. 14. A certain man from Krofdorf, parts of whose face had been eaten away by worms, was cured when dirt from the tomb of Sister Elizabeth was applied to the wounds. 15. A five-year-old crippled boy from Twiste was cured at her tomb. Witnesses: the supervisors of the hospital. 16. Ysendrud, who had been without the use of her feet and hands for the previous five years, was cured at her tomb on the Feast of the Dispersion of the Apostles.5 Witnesses: the preachers Master Conrad of Marburg and Master Theobald; Crafto, the priest; and a priest6 of the village in which she lived. 17. Dither of the diocese of Paderborn, who was lame in the feet and went about on crutches, was cured at her tomb. Witnesses: Bernhard of Holzhausen, the priest of Werde, Crafto and Ermenric, priests. 18. Bertrad of Battenburg had a daughter whose eyes excreted white matter, who was cured at Elizabeth’s tomb. 19. A certain girl from Buttlar had been crippled for two years when her mother fulfilled a vow on her behalf at the tomb of the said Sister Elizabeth and she was cured. Witnesses: a parish priest from Vacha, a parish priest from Buttlar, a knight named Rucher from Mannesbach, and Henric of Uffhausen. 20. A certain seven-year-old girl from Battenfeld, who had been blind for twenty weeks, was cured at Elizabeth’s tomb. Witnesses: the cleric Heinrich, Henric the father of the girl, Cunrad of Eppehe, and many others. 21. A certain nun from Böddeken was cured from dropsy upon invoking Elizabeth. Witnesses: a priest of the village and the supervisors of the hospital. 22. On the Feast of the Dispersion of the Apostles7 in the castle of Assenheim, a schoolboy of fifteen came back to life after having drowned. Witnesses: a knight named Henric, two other knights named Heinrich and Werner, and Werner’s wife Elizabeth. 23. Sophia of Biel, eight years old, deprived of her hearing for certain periods of time, was cured by invoking her. Witnesses: the prior of Aldenburg and Petrissa.

5. July 15, 1232. 6. The text reads: Crafdo sacerdos et presbiter ville. 7. July 15, 1232.

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24. Hedewig of Warmanshusen, who had suffered from chronic weakness,8 was cured at Elizabeth’s tomb. Witness: her brother Cunrad. 25. Henric of Willershausen, over whose eyes certain pieces of flesh had grown so that he was blind, was cured at Elizabeth’s sepulchre. 26. Wigand of Grünberg, a cripple, was healed. 27. Irmentrud of Marburg, blind, was cured at Elizabeth’s tomb. 28. Kunegund of Sontra, having lost the use of her arms, was cured upon invoking Elizabeth. 29. Bertrad of Neukirchen, lame, was cured upon invoking Elizabeth. 30. Berta of Nordeck, blind for two years, received his sight upon invoking happy Elizabeth. 31. Mettild of Marburg, a religious woman who was deaf, was cured at Elizabeth’s tomb; and this was noted. 32. Guda of Cappel, who had been mad, was cured in a similar fashion. 33. In Wehrda a certain girl, out of whose eyes horrible-looking little pieces of skin had grown to the point that she was unable to see on account of them, was cured upon invoking Elizabeth. Witnesses: the parish priest of that place along with the whole village, Master Conrad of Marburg, the younger landgrave,9 and many more who saw first hand. 34. The pastor of the flock at Grüsen was cured of violent madness and insanity upon invoking her name. Witnesses: a monk and a conversus10 of Haina. 35. Once the name of the said Elizabeth had been invoked, life was restored to a certain boy from Sechenstede who had fallen into the river and died on the Monday after Our Lady’s Sunday.11 Witnesses: the landgrave and many knights. 36. Dagenhard, a captive in Densberg, was released in the middle of the day from his chains upon invoking Elizabeth and escaped, making his way right through the middle of the men of Densberg on the horse of a certain knight. Once it had reached the forest, the horse was unable to go any further and was promptly restored to its owner. 37. On the Feast of St. John,12 a certain man from Wiesenbach, who was lame in one of his legs, was cured. Witness: his entire village.

8. She is described as a valitudinaria. 9. That is, Conrad of Thuringia, the younger brother of Ludwig and Heinrich Raspe. 10. The term conversus refers to a lay associate of a Cistercian monastery. 11. Feria secunda post dominicam domine. Wyß determined this to be June 7. Arthur Wyß, Hessisches Urkundenbuch I (1207–1299): Urkundenbuch der Deutschordens-Ballei Hessen I. Publikationem aus den K. Preußischen Staatsarchiven 3 (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1879), 28, p. 27. 12. June 24, 1232.

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38. A certain girl from Richolves, deprived of the ability to speak and to see, was restored to health after invoking Elizabeth and afterward did not experience epilepsy anymore. 39. On the same day a certain girl from Büdingin, who was crippled and humpbacked, received a cure for both. 40. On the same day a certain man from Steina, who had been blind for two years, received his sight again. 41. On the octave of the Feast of St. John,13 a certain boy from Medebach drowned in a well but was revived upon invoking Elizabeth, and this was corroborated by witnesses. 42. A certain lame man from Worms was cured and this was similarly corroborated. 43. A certain woman from Urff, who was crippled in her feet and her hands, was cured. Witnesses: Master Conrad of Marburg and Master Theobald and also many priests. 44. A certain five-year-old boy, who was crippled in both feet and in one hand, was cured at the tomb of the same Elizabeth. Witnesses: the supervisors of the hospital. 45. A certain boy of Todenhausen, who had been suffocated by his mother, was brought back to life upon invoking Elizabeth on the Feast of the Dispersion of the Apostles.14 Witnesses: the supervisors of the hospital and the men of that village. 46. Walter, a carpenter from Grünberg, and his wife swore that their son, who had been completely paralyzed on one side for almost three years, was taken to the tomb and was cured. 47. Hedewic swore under oath that her son, who was more than twenty years old, had been sick for eight days and on the night after the eighth day had died at the first cock’s crow but then was revived at the second cock’s crow when the assistance of that servant of God Elizabeth was invoked in the presence of many at Volpertshausen. 48. Henric of Roth, eighteen years of age, said under oath that he had been lame in one leg for six years and he had been covered with fistulas over his entire body, but was cured upon invoking this holy servant of God along the road. 49. Agnes of Frankfurt said under oath that she had been out of her mind and insane for half a year, but was cured at the tomb of Elizabeth. 50. Henric Mancho of Marburg said under oath that he had been blind for three years, but after making a vow he was cured in the eyes and saw clearly. 13. July 1, 1232. 14. July 15, 1232.

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51. Henric and his wife in Burbach said under oath that their fifteenyear-old daughter had been lame for two and a half years until she was cured at Elizabeth’s tomb. 52. Diteric and his wife from Geilunhusen said under oath that their daughter had been blind in one eye for two years, was covered with fistulas in many parts of her body, and dripped from her ears, but when led to the tomb she was cured. 53. Elysabeth of Zeppenfeld said under oath that her daughter, lying submerged under water for a long time, was revived upon invoking Sister Elizabeth. Witnesses: two people under oath. 54. Uffemia of Reinroth, lame in one leg for six years, was cured upon invoking Elizabeth’s name. Witness: her husband under oath. 55. Ditmar of Geismar said under oath that his brother-in-law had suffered from epilepsy15 for eight years, but was cured at Elizabeth’s tomb. 56. Irmengard of Altenkirchen said under oath along with another witness that her daughter, who was lame, was cured upon invoking Elizabeth’s name. 57. Eberhard of Marburg said under oath that his daughter had been covered with fistulas in her ears, and that she was cured upon invoking Elizabeth’s name. 58. Aba of Grünberg said under oath that his son had curvature of the foot for half of a year but was cured after being taken to her tomb. 59. The day after the feast of St. Lawrence,16 a certain boy of seven who was blind in one eye was cured, with us as well as the many thousands of people who had gathered for the sermon of Master Conrad of Marburg witnessing it. 60. A little later on that same day, a boy who had been lame and crippled from birth was placed next to the tomb of Elizabeth and was cured with us watching. Beyond these we have omitted many other great miracles that the Lord worked through the lady Elizabeth because we were not able to secure sworn testimony with regard to them, even ones that were well known, because they happened beyond the boundaries of Germany. Moreover even for those miracles for which we were able to secure testimony, we could only record the names of a few witnesses because on the Feast of St. Lawrence, with the lord archbishop consecrating two altars in the church of Sister Elizabeth, such a great multitude of people had gathered for the dedication and the preaching of Master Conrad, that, even though many witnesses could have been heard, the press

15. Morbus caducus (falling sickness) is one of the Latin terms for epilepsy. 16. August 11, 1232. St. Lawrence’s feast day is August 10.

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of people meant that they were unable to come before us. We beg your paternity, as much as we are able and as much as we dare, that, once these matters have been investigated, you deign to inscribe her in the catalog of saints in support of the universal church and for the confounding of the depravity of the heretics, since we believe that this would be expedient for the glory of God and the wellbeing of the church, if your magnificence so decrees.

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Conrad of Marburg, Summa vitae (1232)

Conrad of Marburg addressed this letter, containing a brief summary of Elizabeth’s life, to Pope Gregory IX in an effort to provide some context for the list of sixty miracles that it originally accompanied. It was written sometime between August 11, 1232, when Conrad conducted the interviews, and October 13, 1232, the date of Gregory IX’s response to Conrad’s preliminary report. The letter begins by recounting the circumstances that led Conrad to gather evidence regarding Elizabeth’s miracles in the first place. May it be made known to your sanctity, revered father, that brother Raymond, your penitentiary,1 has written me several times, asking that I verify for you the miracles that the Lord worked through Lady Elizabeth, formerly landgravine of Thuringia, whom your paternity once commissioned me to look after. Recently, on the Feast of St. Lawrence,2 when the lord archbishop of Mainz—partly as a result of my request, and partly because it had come to him clearly in a revelation—was dedicating two altars in the church where the body of the lady Elizabeth is buried, a great multitude of people gathered both for the dedication as well as to hear me preach. In the midst

1. That is, Raymond of Peñafort (1171–1275), the Dominican canon lawyer who, at the time, was serving Gregory IX as the director of the penitentiaria, the papal tribunal responsible for matters related to absolving sins and issuing indulgences. 2. August 10, 1232.

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of the sermon, I—without previously consulting your sanctity—conceived in my mind of a way of satisfying your desire for the verification of the aforementioned miracles. I ordered any who were present there who had received cures on account of the merits of the landgravine, to present themselves, along with any witnesses that they might be able to produce, to the lord archbishop of Mainz and to the other prelates who had gathered for the dedication, at the first hour of the following day,3 to be faithfully certified as to the graces that they had received upon invoking Elizabeth. When early the next day no small crowd of people began to gather, all of whom claiming to have received some cure through Elizabeth, the lord archbishop of Mainz, who was hastening to another place due to urgent business, ordered that the evidence be recorded and confirmed by his seal as well as by those of the other prelates, omitting the confirmation of many other prelates and magnates simply because they did not have their seals with them. I transcribe here a summary of her life for you so you might be more fully informed, not only about her miracles but about her manner of living. (1) For two years before she was entrusted to me, while her husband was still alive, I was her confessor, and found her to be upset because, having already for some time been married, she would not able to end this present life as a virgin. At a time when her husband was making his way to the emperor in Apulia, 4 a great dearth arose throughout all of Germany so that many were dying of hunger. At that point Sister Elizabeth began to grow mighty in her virtues. Though she had always, throughout her life, been a consoler of paupers, she became at that moment a more complete restorer of the hungry, ordering that a hospital be built next to a certain fortress.5 There she took in many sick and weak people and generously distributed the favor of charity to everyone who came looking for alms; and not only there, but in all of the territories and areas under the jurisdiction of her husband, depleting in this way the revenues of four of her husband’s principalities. In the end she ordered all her expensive clothing and all other signs of her refinement sold to assist the poor. It was her custom twice each day, once in the morning and once in the evening, to visit all of the sick [in the hospital] herself. Personally assuming the care of the most abominable of these, she fed some, provided a bed for others, supported still others with her own shoulders, and performed many other duties of humanity.

3. August 11, 1232. 4. Ludwig had been summoned to Cremona for a meeting with the emperor and was absent from March until July 1226. 5. The Wartburg castle overlooking Eisenach. By this time Elizabeth had already played a part in the foundation of a hospital in Gotha. Her name appears on a foundation charter issued by her husband, Ludwig, on June 12, 1223. The impetus came from a rich woman named Hildegard who wanted to donate a house for this purpose and sought the support of the landgrave. We know that Elizabeth maintained ties to this foundation even after she started two other hospitals of her own. Ortrud Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, Landgräfin und Heilige: eine Biografie (Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet, 2006), pp. 77, 143.

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In all of these matters, the will of her husband of happy memory was not found to be at odds. (2) Finally after her husband died, when your paternity led her to be entrusted to me, she, striving after the highest perfection, asked me whether in a cell or a cloister or in some other condition she might be made more worthy. In the end, she settled on one idea in her soul, imploring me with many tears to permit her to beg door to door.6 When I sternly refused her request, she responded: “Then I will do what you are not able to prohibit.” And on that Good Friday,7 when the altars had been stripped,8 she placed her hands on the altar of a certain chapel in town9 —the same chapel where she had installed the Friars Minor—and, in the presence of certain Franciscan brothers, renounced her parentage, her children, her own free will, and all of the pomp of this world; all of those things that the Savior of the world advised in the Gospel were to be left behind.10 When she tried to renounce her possessions, I restrained her on account of the debts of her husband that were still to be settled and on behalf of the needy, whom I hoped would be supported from what pertained to her by virtue of her dowry. Once this had been done and she realized that she might be absorbed by the tumult of the world and the earthly glory in which she had lived while her husband was still alive, she followed me—although I was reluctant—to Marburg, which lay at the far end of her husband’s territory. There in that town she built a kind of a hospital, taking in the sick and the weak. She placed the most miserable and contemptible people at her table and when I reprimanded her about it, she responded that she received from them a singular grace and humility. Like a prudent woman—which she most certainly was—she called my attention to the life that she lived before, saying that it was necessary for her to cure one extreme with its opposite in just this manner. Seeing that she wanted to make progress, I deprived11 her of those members of her household who were superfluous, ordering her to be content with only three people—a certain conversus 12 who would oversee her affairs, a pious virgin who was highly contemptible, and a noble widow who was deaf and very severe—so that through the handmaid she would become more humble and through the severe widow she would be inspired to patience. Thus while the handmaid prepared greens, the lady would wash the dishes and vice versa. Elizabeth gathered to herself, among others, a paralyzed boy, who had been deprived of his father and mother and who struggled with a constant

6. Hostiatim mendicare. 7. March 24, 1228. 8. It is traditional to remove the altar cloth and other church decorations on Maundy Thursday in commemoration of Jesus being stripped in the course of his Passion. 9. That is, Eisenach. 10. Matthew 9:21. 11. The verb used here is amputare. 12. A lay brother associated with the Cistercian order.

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flow of blood,13 and put him each night in her bed for the sake of her own spiritual training, and through him sustained many afflictions, since she had to carry him outside in her own arms as often as necessary, sometimes six or more times each night; and she washed his soiled clothes—as was necessary under such circumstances—with her own hands. After that boy died, she took on, without my knowledge, the care of a leprous girl and hid her in her own quarters, taking upon herself every duty dictated by humanity. She humbled herself by feeding her, laying her down, washing her, and even removing her shoes, imploring the other members of her household not to be offended by such things. When I discovered this, I punished her severely—may the Lord forgive me—because I feared that she would be infected by contact with the girl. After I had sent away the leper and then left to preach in far-off places, she took in a poor little boy who was so mangy that he did not have a single hair on his head. Her intent was to cure him. And indeed by bathing and treating him—from whom she learned to do this, I do not know—she succeeded in curing him, and this boy was seated at her bedside when she died. Beyond these works of the active life,14 I will say, in the presence of God, that I have rarely seen a more contemplative woman. Certain religious women as well as men often saw her face—when she was returning from one of her prayer retreats—shining wonderfully as if rays of sun were emanating from her eyes. If, as was often the case, she was caught up in rapture for several hours,15 she would sustain herself with very little food, if any at all, for the longest time. (3) Once, when the time of her death was approaching but she was still healthy, I was afflicted by a rather serious illness and so I asked how she would want to arrange things with regard to her circumstances in the event of my death. On that occasion, in response to this question, she unwaveringly foretold her own death to me. On the fourth day after this conversation, she came down with an illness with which she struggled for twelve days. On the third day before her death she ordered every secular person to be kept away from [her], not even permitting the noblemen, who frequently came to visit her, to enter. When they asked why they were being excluded, she told those who were sitting around her bed that she wanted to meditate without distraction on the end, on the challenge of the strict judgment, and on the omnipotent Judge himself. Later, on the Sunday before the octave of the Feast of St. Martin16 after matins had been sung, I heard her confession, but she could recall nothing that she had not already confessed to me many times before. When I asked 13. Apparently a case of dysentery. 14. The “active life” (vita activa), typically associated with members of the secular clergy, refers to the mode of Christian life that focuses on service to others. The “contemplative (or passive) life” (vita contemplativa or vita passiva), typically associated with members of the regular clergy, involves withdrawal from the world and focus on one’s individual relationship with God. 15. Literally, in excessum mentis raperetur. 16. The octave of St. Martin falls on November 18, a week after St. Martin’s feast day. In 1231, the Sunday before the octave fell on November 16.

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what she wanted done with her things and furnishings, she responded that everything that she had seemed to possess already belonged to the poor, and she begged me to distribute everything to them except her vile tunic, in which she was dressed and in which she wanted to be buried. After these things had been carried out, at about the first hour, she accepted the body of the Lord and then afterward until the hour of vespers spoke frequently of the best things that she had ever heard in sermons, especially about the raising up of Lazarus and how the Lord cried in response to it.17 When on account of these words, certain of the religious men and women present were moved to tears, she said: “Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me; weep for yourselves.”18 Once this had been said, she was still and the sweetest of voices was heard in her throat without any movement of her lips. And when those sitting around her wondered what it was, she asked them if they had heard the singers that were there with her. After this she lay there, from dusk until the first cock crow, rejoicing and showing signs of excellent devotion, and then said: “behold, the hour has arrived in which the Virgin gave birth.” Then, after devoutly commending everyone who was sitting around her to God, she breathed her last as if gently falling sleep. Learning of her death, Cistercians as well as many other kinds of monks came from all over and gathered at the hospital in which she was to be buried. With the devotion of the people demanding it, she remained unburied until the following Wednesday,19 showing absolutely no sign of death except that she became pale; her body remained pliable as if still alive and smelled very good. On the day after her burial, the Lord began to work miracles through his handmaid. A Cistercian monk, who had come to her sepulchre with a certain mental illness that he had had for more than forty years, was cured, and he swore this to be true with me and a parish priest of Marburg present. She died the sixteenth day before the Kalends of December in her twentyfifth year.20

17. John 11:35. 18. Luke 23:28. 19. November 19, 1231. 20. November 16, 1231. Elizabeth died after midnight on the night of the 16th, meaning she actually died on November 17. Dicta 60. Being in her twenty-fifth year would have made Elizabeth twenty-four at the time of her death.

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Miracle Depositions from the First Papal Commission (1233)

The first commission pertaining to Elizabeth’s cause was convened in January 1233 in Marburg. It heard, evaluated, and recorded sworn testimony from witnesses to miracles attributed to Elizabeth’s intercession. To the most holy father and lord Gregory [IX], supreme pontiff of the holy Roman church; Siegfried, by divine mercy the archbishop of Mainz; Raimund, the abbot of Eberbach of the Cistercian Order; and Master Conrad of Marburg, preacher of the word of God, with the filial reverence and obedience of their due subjection, offer their most diligent service. We have received your paternity’s letter and its mandate to the effect that we, with nothing but reverence for the divine majesty held out before our eyes, faithfully preserve in writing, with careful diligence and vigilant solicitude, both the manner of living of the former landgravine Elizabeth of happy memory and the miracles, that, though authored by God, proceeded from the sanctity of her body, all duly investigated by means of suitable witnesses, so that this record might be sent to you by means of faithful and solemn messengers under our seals, in accordance with the apostolic mandate that we received. Submitting humbly, as is appropriate for us, to your commands, we have conveyed to you in this document the conduct and life of the said landgravine and the miracles that God worked on behalf of the sanctity of her body, miracles that were investigated as carefully and diligently as possible. With

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regard to her manner of living, after solicitously questioning both ourselves and the members of her pious and God-fearing household about it, we determined that our previous account—which has been appended below, the same one that I, Conrad, a humble preacher, compiled for you before—was sufficient. Nothing that we have heard since has moved our consciences to change it, by removing or adding anything.1 Here begin the miracles of blessed Elizabeth.

1. Concerning the boy born blind who was given sight Isentrut of Schletzenrod in the diocese of Mainz said under oath, with regard to her fifteen-year-old son Theoderic, that he was born blind and that the openings where his eyes should have been were covered up since his birth with unbroken skin like that on any other part of the body, so that no hint of any eye could be detected nor were any eyelids visible. Asked when it was that he began to see, she responded: “On the day of the Lord’s Supper of the present year.”2 Asked where, she said: “In the right-hand corner of the choir in the hospital, where the body of the blessed Elizabeth, the former landgravine, is buried.” Asked how this came about, she responded: “In the middle of the sermon that was being delivered in the courtyard3 suddenly there appeared a tear in the boy’s skin where his eyes should have been, as if what had been previously unbroken was now being cut by a knife, and little eyes appeared, bloody and agitated, looking like the frog’s eggs that one finds in pools of water.” Asked upon whose invocation this had happened, she said: “Upon the invocation of St. Elizabeth,” adding that she had taken dirt from the sepulchre and spread it on the boy’s eyes. Godefrid, a priest at the hospital, said under oath that he had seen the same boy blind, unable to see the eyes themselves, covered over as they were by unbroken skin, and that there were no eyelids visible. Asked when this was, he said that he had seen him blind like that on the day of the Lord’s Supper but that later the same day, saw him able to see. Asked about the appearance of the eyes, he responded in the same way as the boy’s mother, that is, that cuts appeared on the skin, and that the eyes were small, agitated, and bloody. Hermann, Albert, and Ditmar, citizens of Marburg, when asked individually under oath, agreed with the priest, saying that they had seen the boy blind, and agreed about the time, place, and appearance of the eyes before and after.

1. In other words, though the commission of 1233 seems to have questioned people close to Elizabeth about her life, in the end it opted simply to resubmit Conrad’s Summa vitae. Official depositions from “members of her pious and God-fearing household” were not taken until the second hearing two years later. 2. Maundy (or Holy) Thursday, the Thursday of Easter week, which, in 1232, fell on April 8. 3. The word used is campus. From what follows it is clear that it was a campus within view of the chapel. Hence its identification with the courtyard of the hospital–chapel complex.

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Master Conrad, preacher of the word of God, who was returning from preaching in the courtyard at that time, saw the same boy, with his undeveloped, agitated eyes, but had not seen him before when he was blind. He added that there was none of the hair that we call eyelashes4 on the edges of the eyelids where the skin had torn. A knight named Ludewic of Linsingen said under oath that on the day of the Lord’s Supper in the present year, when he was in the same courtyard for the sake of Master Conrad of Marburg’s preaching, he saw this same woman sitting in the chapel and crying bitterly. When he asked her why she was crying, she responded that she did so on account of her son who had been born blind. Asked if he had actually witnessed the boy’s blindness, Ludewic responded that on account of the press of people he had not. When asked what he knew about the boy, he said that, after returning from the sermon, he found that the boy was able to see: his skin on his face seemed as if it had been cut revealing undeveloped and watery eyes without any lashes on the eyelids. Wanting to determine if the boy could actually see, he showed him a denarius and then threw it in a pot. The boy reached his hand into the pot and pulled out the coin. Kunegund of Schletzenrod, the maternal aunt of the boy, and Cunrad, her son, said under oath that they had seen that boy a year ago totally blind and crippled,5 with unbroken skin covering his eyes, so that none of the eye itself was visible; but that after the Feast of the Lord’s Supper, they saw him again with clear eyes and seeing well. Asked how it was that a year had passed before they had seen him again, they said that the mother and boy lived elsewhere. We, who heard these witnesses, also saw that boy seeing clearly and having eyes of the proper size.6

2. Concerning the dead boy who was resuscitated Lutgard of Fronhausen of the diocese of Mainz said under oath that Heinrich, her nearly three-year-old son, fell gravely ill for six days and that on the seventh, immediately after dusk, he died, exhibiting all the signs of death: that is to say he was stiff, pale, and cold. While he was lying there dead, with his mother wailing over him, the boy’s grandmother, whose name was Bertheid and who was present at the time, made a vow on the boy’s behalf, at the mother’s request, saying: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, procure life for this boy and we will bring him with offerings to your sepulchre and we will oblige him to pay

4. The Latin reads: . . . pili quos cilia nominamus . . . non erant. 5. Contractus. This is the first that we hear about the boy being crippled. 6. Oculos habentem debite quantitatis. Because the number of eyes was never in question, this reference to quantity would seem to be directed to the size of each eye.

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tribute in the amount of two denarii to your hospital every single year.”7 The boy remained dead up to the beginning of the next day, while these same two women incessantly invoked both God and blessed Elizabeth. Finally, in the early morning, the boy moved his hand, drew a breath with some difficulty, and came back to life, having been cured. In the evening of the following day he began to speak. Bertheid, the grandmother of the boy, agreed under oath with everything that the mother had said. Conrad, his father, also agreed with the boy’s mother and grandmother. Asked when this had happened, they said that it was around the Feast of St. Gall of the present year, that is, in 1232.8 Anshelm, the uncle of the dead boy, said under oath that he was present at the death of the boy and saw him lying dead. He diligently noted the abovementioned indications of death, and agreed with everything that the parents and the grandmother had said. Bertheit, the sister of the boy, agreed, under oath, with everything that had been said.

3. Concerning the humpbacked and scrofulous girl who was cured Sophia of Büdingen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that her nine-yearold daughter Beatrix became ill with an erratic sort of malady that left different parts of her body swollen: sometimes her thighs, sometimes her legs, and sometimes her chest. Finally, after she had been ill for two and a half years, a lump grew on her back and a scrofula on her chest, greatly deforming her. She was so bent over that she was not able to straighten herself, and so she moved along slowly, bent over with her hands on her knees, supporting her body with her arms, begging door to door9 in her village. Asked how long she had suffered, she said that she had been afflicted with the lump and the scrofula for two and a half years, thus spending a total of five years with this illness. Finally her mother, having made a vow on her behalf, visited the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth with her daughter and some offerings. The girl’s stepfather carried her there on his back and they remained at the tomb for ten days, praying every day. After some days had passed and their prayers had still not been answered, the mother murmured against Lady Elizabeth, saying: “I will discourage everyone from visiting your tomb because you have not heard me.” She then departed in anger. But when she had gotten a mile and a half away from Marburg, she sat down next to a well in the village that is called Roßberg, with her daughter crying a great deal due to the pain in her body. While she 7. I have translated solvere . . . ad censum and its variations—for instance, censualem . . . se constituit, as in Miracle Depositions (1233) 9—quite literally as “pay tribute.” 8. October 16. 9. Hostiatim mendicando.

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cried, she began to perspire and then she fell asleep for a bit. When she awoke, she said that she had seen a certain lady coming toward her, a lady whose face shone and whose hands were graceful and white. The lady rubbed the girl’s body on the back and the front with her hands and said, “Rise and walk.” Getting up, the girl, drenched in sweat, her whole body trembling, rubbed her chest with her hand and said to her mother: “Look mother! I have been cured all over!” Standing up straight, she began to go about unhindered, liberated from the lump on her back as well as from the scrofula, her whole body having been healed. The mother, stepfather, and daughter returned to the tomb and gave thanks to God and St. Elizabeth, leaving the litter, on which they had carried her, next to the sepulchre. Asked when this had occurred, the mother said that it had happened on St. John the Baptist’s Day, of the present year.10 The girl’s stepfather, Embrico, asserted under oath the same things that the mother said. Guntram of Lorbach concurred under oath with the preceding accounts, adding that in the midst of the girl’s illness she had stayed with him in his house for seven weeks. Herbord, Cunrad, another Cunrad, Frideric, Volcwin, Bertold, and Albert, all from Lorbach, concurred under oath with the preceding accounts, saying that they had seen the same girl often, both when she was ill and again after her visit to the sepulchre. And we, who heard this testimony, saw the girl completed healthy.

4. Concerning the crippled girl who was cured Berhtrad, a sixteen-year-old girl from Buttlar in the diocese of Würzburg, when asked about her infirmity, said that on the octave of blessed Michael11 of the previous year [1231], she became disabled. She was continually afflicted in her legs, her thighs, her back, and one arm to the point that she had no power in her limbs. She had to be picked up and put down by her mother or someone else as her needs required because she was unable to lift her limbs or put them down or indeed to move them at all. Not being able to walk, she had to be carried by other people. This infirmity lasted until the week of Christ’s Passion of the following year. During that week, Gerdrud, the mother of this girl, attended the sermon of Master Conrad of Marburg, who on Wednesday and again on Thursday, the Feast of the Lord’s Supper,12 preached at the hospital. After the Wednesday sermon, she saw a miracle involving a man being

10. June 24, 1232. 11. St. Michael’s Day is September 29. The octave of St. Michael: October 6. 12. The day before Maundy Thursday and Maundy Thursday itself, April 7 and 8, 1232.

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worked at the tomb of Sister Elizabeth. Thinking of her daughter, whom she had left at home, Gerdrud began to cry bitterly and asked a certain religious woman by the name of Jutta to make a vow with her and pray on behalf of her daughter. At that very hour—that is, the fourth—a vow was made on behalf of the woman’s daughter to visit to the tomb, and both the mother and Jutta made offerings—a wax image and a silver coin—on her behalf. This girl said under oath, among other things, that on that very same day, that is to say Wednesday, before the ninth hour, she was relieved of her infirmity. Rising from the ground, she began to walk and went freely from her mother’s house to the house of a neighbor, which she had been unable to do before when she was still not well. Recovering her strength little by little, she finally received her health completely. All of these things the mother of the girl asserted under oath. Erkenbold, a priest from the same village, that is, from Buttlar, said under oath that he had often seen this girl, in the midst of her infirmity, being carried from her mother’s house to his house, and when she was placed on the ground, she had to stay where she was put unless someone moved her. This same priest often administered alms to her in his house. When asked about the timeframe of her infirmity, the priest said that he did not know exactly but that he had seen her that way for a long time. Asked when she was cured, he said that on Easter Day he saw the girl going freely from her mother’s house to draw water. Swearing to it, he said: “I thank God and I believe that blessed Elizabeth made this sign with respect to her. For I advised her mother to make an offering on her daughter’s behalf at Elizabeth’s tomb.” Asked if he had seen her infirm right before the day of her cure, he said that he used to see her almost every day. Cunrad of Buttlar said under oath that he frequently saw her when she was sick and that he himself often carried her with his own hands from place to place. Asked about the cure, he said that he saw her walking and healthy in every way on Easter Day and from then on. Trageboto, a knight from Großenbach, said under oath that he had seen her ill and then afterward healthy. The mother knew that at the very hour when she made the offering that her daughter was cured. The village in which this girl lives lies ten Teutonic miles away from the sepulchre. And we, who heard this testimony, saw the girl completely healthy.

5. Concerning the cripple who was healed Walther and his wife Irmendrud from Grünberg in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the infirmity of their son Henric, said, under oath, that when he was twelve years old, he began to grow ill, such that on his right side a great deal of flesh grew. Sticking up out from his body, the growth left him

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deformed, giving him the appearance of a humpback. Moreover the thigh on that same side withered away and began to weaken. At the same time the hip and the knee of this leg became seriously swollen with the tendons and nerves contracted to the point that he was scarcely able to touch the ground with the foot of that leg as he went along with the help of a cane. After two years the boy’s left hand became numb,13 so that he could not use it. The mother made a vow of behalf of her son, that she would take him along with offerings to the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth. Making this vow during Lent of the present year, she arrived at the sepulchre on the Feast of the Lord’s Supper,14 having left the boy at home on account of his infirmity. There she made offerings on his behalf. When she returned home, she found him feeling somewhat better. Later, during the Feast of Pentecost,15 the parents and their son set out for the sepulchre again, and on the way there the boy suddenly began to feel even better, being able to extend his leg and walk better. When his parents said to him, “Son, sit and rest” (they did not believe that he would be able to make much headway along such a road), the boy responded: “I will not rest until I see Marburg.” He would not allow himself to be carried or to be mounted on the back of an animal. When they arrived at the sepulchre on Tuesday of the week of Pentecost,16 they prayed at the sepulchre both that day and the next one. That same Wednesday, they placed the boy on the sepulchre and the mother said: “Son slip your hand under the stone of the sepulchre.” There was a hole there from which the people extracted dirt. After the boy had inserted his hand, they left the church on account of the press of people. Then the boy’s hand began to tremble and he extended it, saying to his mother: “See, mother, my hand is healed!” Giving thanks, they went back home. After they had returned, the boy began to extend his leg more and more. And the flesh that had grown up on his side began to subside little by little along with the swelling of his leg. From then on the boy was completely healed. Volpert, Henric, and Hartmud from the same village of Grünberg, said under oath that they had seen the boy when he was healthy, and then later infirm, and then completely cured, just as was said.

6. Concerning the student who drowned but was resuscitated Henric, a knight from Kolnhusen in the diocese of Mainz, said under oath that Burchard, a student from Aschaffenburg, entered the river, which is called the Wetter, to fish along with a servant and subsequently drowned there, with his servant present and watching. The people who witnessed his death were not

13. 14. 15. 16.

The Latin reads: Arida. April 8, 1232. May 30, 1232. In 1232, Pentecost occurred on May 30. The following Tuesday would have been June 1.

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able to help him. After looking for a hook with which to pull the youth out of the water, they searched for him for quite some time in the river. When they found him, they pulled him from the water and placed him in a boat. With his legs lifted up high, they tried to get the water out of him in hopes of reviving him, if his spirit was still in him. But the body had begun to stiffen and they could find no trace of life. So the servant, accompanied by twenty other people, called out in a loud voice with great emotion: “Blessed Elizabeth, if the Lord God ever did anything on your behalf, see to it that life is restored to this student.” And immediately they perceived in him a very feeble breath. They carried him to the church and little by little he recovered. Asked by those present where he was when he was dead and what it was like for him, he responded that he did not know. He said that it had happened sometime around the Feast of the Translation of St. Martin.17 Marquard, a knight and the brother of this same Henric, agreed with him under oath about everything, except that he had not actually seen Burchard enter the water or drown. Conrad, the miller of Assenheim, agreed under oath with the second witness, adding that when he heard the commotion about the drowned youth, he grabbed a hook and, having searched for him a long time in one place without finding him, stuck the hook in another part of the river and the events unfolded as described above. According to all of the witnesses, this happened in a village called Assenheim. Asked where they lived, the witnesses responded: “In this same place.” Asked how old the youth was, they said that he was around eighteen.

7. Concerning the dead boy who was resuscitated Lutrud of Röddenau in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that, when her son Wezelin was approximately three and a half years old, she found him dead on about the Feast of St. James18 that same year. His rigid and lifeless body lay at a distance of about four Teutonic miles outside of Röddenau. Crying and shouting, she carried the body of the abducted boy to the courtyard and summoned the neighbors, so that they would prepare the necessary garments and other things that were needed to bury him according to the local custom. After the neighbors had rushed to her, she raised her voice and called out: “Blessed Elizabeth, how is it that I should have lost him this way? Help me! Make it so that his spirit returns to him and I, along with the boy, will take to your tomb, from among my own things, bread, grain, incense, myrrh, linen, silver, and a quantity of wax weighing the same as his body.” A short time after she had said

17. July 4, 1232. 18. The Feast of St. James the Greater: July 25, 1232.

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these things, the boy revived, his pulse being the first indication of his restored life. From that hour, around dusk, the boy lay there incapable of speech until almost midnight, and then he said three times: “Where am I, dear one?” He did not at first recognize his mother but then regained his powers little by little. When asked how many days he was sick,19 she responded: “Five.” Irmendrud, a neighbor of Lutrud’s from the same village, said under oath that she was in her garden, watering it, when she heard a shout from the woman and her family. She rushed to her, suspecting that something had happened to the boy, whom she knew was sick. When she got there she found the boy outside of the house lifeless and lying in his mother’s arms—it was around the Feast of St. James. His eyes were open and fixed, unmoving, like dead people’s eyes are. Together with the mother, she began to invoke the intercession of blessed Elizabeth. Leaving the boy there still lifeless, she returned to her own house to tend to a sick person there. After a little while she heard voices of joy because life had been restored to the boy. Cunrad, from the same village, said under oath that he, hastening along with the others, had seen the boy in his mother’s lap and thought him to be dead. Concerning the time and the place, he concurred with the others. And we, who heard this testimony, saw the boy alive and in good health.

8. Concerning the boy who was given sight in one eye Henric of Grünberg in the diocese of Mainz said under oath concerning his son Henric that, within the first six weeks of his birth, a large abscess20 had grown over his left eye. When it subsided, a vestige of the abscess remained over the pupil of the same eye in the form of a layer of skin that prevented him from seeing with that one eye. He remained blind in that eye for nine years. The father made a vow and took the boy to the tomb of blessed Elizabeth around the last Feast of St. Vitus.21 He placed him along with offerings on the tomb and prayed: “Holy lady, I beg you, cure my son’s eye, so that he may always serve you.” While the boy was lying on top of the tomb, the piece of skin began to tear down the middle and the pupil became clearly visible. Splitting open more and more, the spot 22 on his eye began to diminish, finally going away altogether. After eight days it had totally vanished and the child recovered his sight completely so that he was able to see clearly. Hartmud, Walther, and Irmendrud, from the same village of Grünberg, said under oath that they had seen that boy’s eye as well as the spot that

19. Quot diebus egrotasset. By this, the questioner seems to be getting how long it took the boy to recover fully once signs of life were first detected. 20. Apostema. 21. June 15, 1232. 22. This macula seems to be the same pellicula that the witness was just describing.

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prevented him from seeing anything from it. With regard to his cure, they were as amazed as the others.

9. Concerning the ulcerated girl who was cured Guta of Biedenkopf in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the infirmity and the cure of Hadewig, her granddaughter, said under oath that when she was nine years old, she was afflicted with fistulas on her neck, her back, her side, and on part of her thighs, so that a great deal of pus oozed continually from her flesh on these parts of her body. Her clothes were so infused with this pus that dogs pulled at her clothes to lick it. Afflicted with this infirmity for four years, she finally, around the time of the Feast of blessed James,23 visited blessed Elizabeth’s tomb with offerings as part of a vow asking for her intercession. She also arranged for tribute to be paid to the same Lady Elizabeth every year. As she was heading back home, in the midst of the journey, the pus began to dry up and go away. From then on she got progressively better each day until she was completely cured. Gerbert, the husband of the previously mentioned Guta, said under oath that he took care of this same Hadewig in his home and so had seen her healthy before her infirmity and later was familiar with the full extent of her malady. He also said that after her visit to blessed Elizabeth, she was cured, and that the visit took place on the above-mentioned date. Bruno, Adelheit, Hadewig, Diemud, Siboto, Heinrich, and Hadewig from Biedenkopf agreed under oath with what was said before.

10. Concerning the boy who drowned in a well and was resuscitated Wighard of Medebach in the diocese of Cologne, when asked about the death of Gotfrid, a boy of four years, said under oath that one day he went to the well to draw water and found a drowned boy lying in it. Shocked, he quickly went down into the well, pulled the boy out, and handed him to his companion Rudeger, who had come with him to draw water. The two of them began shouting and some people from that village came, all of whom judged the boy to be dead. He lay there with his mouth agape and his eyes open in an awful way. His skin was dark and wrinkled all over, as if he had been boiled in water, and he had a very tight stomach. His arms and legs, that is to say all his extremities, had gotten stiff. They carried him to Wighard’s house and hid him there from his parents because the father was ill and the mother was having a baby. The people who were standing around began to invoke the intercession of St. Elizabeth and they begged two devout women to vow

23. July 25, 1232.

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to take the boy, along with offerings, to her sepulchre. Once this invocation had been made, they saw the natural color of the boy return all at once and began to feel the pulse in his veins. Then they carried the boy to his parents’ house. Rudeger, who had come with Wighard to draw water, said under oath that he had taken the child from the hands of Wighard, who was standing in the well from which he had extracted the boy, and that, once he had laid the boy on the ground, he began to lament, thinking that it might be his own son. For although he had known this boy well when he was alive, he did not recognize him on account of his deformed condition. In all other points, his testimony was in agreement with Wighard’s. Wipert, the father of the boy, and Gerdrud, the mother, said under oath that on the Feast day of John the Baptist 24 of the present year, the boy Godfrid left his home in the afternoon to play with the other boys. They did not know when the boy had fallen into the well but they said that he was brought to their house at about sunset. Adelheid from the same village said under oath that she saw the boy lying there lifeless and that the people were deeply grieving. And we, who heard this testimony, saw the boy alive and healthy.

11. Concerning the girl who was freed from a f low of blood Hermann of Breidenbach in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the healing of his daughter, who had been freed25 from a f low of blood, said under oath that when his daughter was a little more than five years old, she suffered a f low of blood for six weeks short of an entire year. When nothing succeeded in curing her, his wife, the mother of the girl, beseechingly invoked St. Elizabeth. She asked that she cure her child and made a vow, saying: “If, holy lady, you free my daughter, I will visit your tomb and bring offerings myself. Later when my daughter recovers her strength, I will take her there too.” She made the vow and, upon returning, found her daughter completely healed. Asked when this had happened, she said that the girl was cured immediately after Easter.26 Osterlint, the mother of the child, as well as Gundelach, Wenher, and Liebste from the same place, were in agreement with the father. They said under oath that they had seen the girl sick in this way and then healed after the vow had been sworn. They were also in agreement with regard to the timing of the sickness and of the cure.

24. June 24, 1232. 25. Liberata. 26. In 1232, Easter was celebrated on April 11.

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12. Concerning the crippled girl who was cured Gerdrud of Bleichenbach in the diocese of Mainz, when asked how she had been cured, responded under oath that when she was almost eight years old, she was afflicted with a serious illness such that she was confined to her bed, able to lie only on one side, her legs bent back and contracted all the way to her buttocks. She also had a kind of growth called a bubo under her armpit that swelled up to the size of a loaf of bread. Thus afflicted, she struggled for four years. Admonished in her dreams that she should make her way to the church of blessed Nicholas in a village called Gisnith,27 she set out to do this, and there one of her legs was restored though the other leg remained as it was before. She spent another six years in this condition. Meanwhile she had become spasmodic and bent forward, so that her head was always and unavoidably closer to the ground than her rear was. In this lamentable state she came with great difficulty to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth the landgravine, where she found no remedy or grace, despite the fact that she had humbly begged for eight days straight, having heard that many others were being cured there at the same time. On a certain Friday—she thought it to be the Friday after the last Feast of St. Michael28 —in the early evening she was placed on top of Lady Elizabeth’s tomb and, after asking for her help, her paralyzed leg was suddenly extended and cured, as she practically went out of her mind due to the intense pain. The following morning she was carried back to the tomb, bothered by an sharp pain in her back. Again going practically out of her mind with pain, she was straightened out and cured. Moreover the tumor under her armpit went away all at once. We saw her totally restored to health. She added that her right foot and leg had been reduced a great deal during the time of her infirmity but that now they were restored to their normal state. Anselm, a parish priest from the same place, said under oath, that he had seen her for three years debilitated in one leg, as was said, and bent forward and curved in the back, but then later he saw her fully cured. Concerning the bubo under her armpit, the vestiges of which were still apparent, he said that he had only heard about it from women who had inspected it. Frideric, a free and noble man from the same place, agreed under oath with everything that the priest had said. Ditric from the same place agreed completely under oath with the others. Wernher, a free and noble man from the same place, agreed under oath with the priest except that he had only seen the girl afflicted with this illness for two years.

27. According to Huyskens, this refers to Geiß-Nidda . Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 137. 28. St. Michael’s feast day is celebrated on September 29. In 1232, the following Friday would have been October 1.

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Henric from the same place agreed under oath with the priest in everything. Ditmar from the same place likewise agreed under oath with the priest. Cunrad and Cunrad of Rohrbach agreed under oath with the priest in everything.

13. Concerning the boy who was born dead and was revived Mehthild of Lang-Göns in the diocese of Trier, when asked about her son, who was said to have been stillborn, responded under oath that she had been pregnant with two babies in her womb at the same time, a boy and a girl. After her daughter had been born, the son’s arm appeared, sticking out from the womb. Unable to get the baby out, the mother invoked the aid of a attendant by the name of Jutta. Seeing that the boy’s arm had turned completely blue,29 she figured he was dead and hesitated to assist. She was afraid she might be the cause of the mother’s death, knowing that a dead fetus is hard to deliver and presents many dangers to the mother. Finally overcome by the mother’s entreaties— this report is, by the way, in accordance with this woman’s testimony—she extracted the body of the child, which was half blue. It being time to go and hear mass, she placed the little body on a chair and left. But the mother, along with the many other men and women who were there, called to the Lord and begged Lady Elizabeth for her grace and mercy in securing the revival of this dead child through the Lord. The mother vowed that, if her request were granted, she would visit the tomb of Lady Elizabeth, barefoot and dressed in linen, with offerings. All at once the baby opened his mouth and he began to breathe and get warm in those places where he had not previously been warm. Once he had been baptized, he immediately expired. Jutta from the same village, who was present, as recorded above, said under oath that she witnessed everything that was written above before she left the baby’s body to go to mass.

14. Concerning the woman who was freed of a polyp and converted from heresy Guta, a widow from Denzerod in the diocese of Trier, when asked how she had been cured of a polyp, said under oath that she had suffered from it for twelve years. During part of that time she was a member of the sect of the Poor of Lyons,30 and, as a result, was unable to secure a remedy whether from those 29. Denigratum. 30. The “Poor of Lyons,” better known as the Waldensians, were followers of Peter Waldo or Valdés (d. 1218) of Lyons, a lay church reformer who, not unlike Francis a generation later, was inspired to live a life of evangelical poverty and preach. Unlike the Franciscans, however, Peter and his followers were condemned as heretics after refusing to heed Alexander III’s orders (1179) not to preach.

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who were still alive or from those who, having left their bodies, were in their glory.31 Finally, coming to her senses and abhorring the sect, she hurried with a newfound zeal to the gift of confession. Having received from her priest a suitable penance, she performed it and then hurried to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth the landgravine and implored her for help, saying: “Holy lady, free me from this disgrace of a nose and I will visit your tomb with offerings every single year that I have left in my life.” Having completed her prayer, she was cured in an instant. Neither she nor anyone else could figure out what had happened to that piece of flesh that had so deformed her nose. Dietwin, her son, said under oath that had seen her deformed by the polyp for many years, though he could not say exactly how many. He also said that the polyp made her so abominable that he did not want to live in the same house with her nor could he even tolerate doing so. Her appearance and smell offended everyone. After she returned from the tomb of St. Elizabeth, he saw her healed in every way. He did not know anything about her heretical ties. Hermann, Adelwin, Gotfrid, and Gerung of Ems, and Wernher from the same place, and Sifrid of Arzbach all agreed, under oath, with the woman’s son. Crafto, a priest at the hospital, saw the piece of flesh in her nose and afterward saw her cured to the point that there was no sign of any deformity on her.

15. Concerning the boy, lame from birth, who was cured Sophia of Feldbach in the diocese of Trier, when asked about her son Cunrad, who was lame from birth, and how he was cured, said under oath that the lower legs of the thirteen-year-old boy were so reduced, that is to say, his calves and even his buttocks were diminished to such a degree, that he was unable to walk or even sit without support. His hand and arm shook so much that he was scarcely able to eat or drink anything; his eyes, too, had the same kind of tremor. He had been burdened by all these problems from birth. As the fame and glory of Elizabeth grew, the mother of the boy made a vow to go to the tomb barefoot, dressed in wool. In the company of many knights and the other men and women connected to her, she took the boy with her, tied to the saddle of a horse. Once they reached Marburg and he had been placed on the tomb, she very intently begged Lady Elizabeth for her mercy and his health. The boy began to walk right then and there, first by supporting himself with a cane and other things. The tremor in his eyes, arms, and hands ceased. His calves were restored and his lower legs returned to a healthy condition.32 The boy was then able to walk without any support on a flat surface, and a cane in one hand

31. That is, neither doctors nor saints (who would presumably have been offended by her heretical associations) could help her. 32. The text described the legs as “restored” even though the boy was, we are told, born crippled.

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sufficed when he was on an incline. This grace was done for the boy on the Feast of Sts. John and Paul.33 Sophia and Gerdrud of Feldbach, the sisters of the boy, Hedwig from Lampertshausen, Notgeb from Feldbach, and all the wives of the knights who had seen the boy infirm in that way and then cured when he returned from the tomb, agreed with the mother regarding the timeframe of the malady.

16. Concerning the insane mother who was cured Adelheid of Urff in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about her infirmity and the manner in which she was cured, said under oath that she had been insane34 day and night for a period of more than two years. She rushed about in her sleep through villages, fields, and forests. Tearing off her clothes, she was not embarrassed to be naked in the presence of men, acting crazy in everything that she did. Her mother and relatives attentively invoked the grace of the lady landgravine with regard to her misery, taking her to Elizabeth’s tomb around the Feast of the blessed John the Baptist.35 But she found no mercy there at that time, and acted even more insane than she had before. After the subsequent Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary,36 she was taken again with offerings to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth. Once the offering was made, she became warm all over her body. Weighed down with fatigue, she slept very calmly and when she woke up, she was fully restored to her senses. Asked her age, she said that she was twenty years old. Henric, Rudger, Rudbert, Arnold, Volpert, and Ysendrud said under oath that they had seen her mad for the above-mentioned period of time and then on another occasion, after she had returned from the sepulchre of the landgravine, they saw her completely healthy.

17. Concerning the woman with stones who was cured Aba of Ginsheid37 in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about her infirmity and the manner of her cure, said under oath that she had suffered from stones for twelve years, but for the last six weeks she had been afflicted so gravely that all of her neighbors were moved to pity by her suffering. Around the last Feast of the Nativity of John the Baptist,38 she poured out her prayers to the lady landgravine, saying: “Holy lady, have mercy on me and release me, miserable

33. June 26, 1232. 34. Furiosa et rabida. 35. June 24, 1232. 36. September 8, 1232. 37. Huyskens speculated that like Gisnith—in Miracle Depositions (1233) 12—Ginsheid corresponds to modern Gieß-Nidda. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 173. 38. June 24, 1232.

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as I am, from this affliction, and I will always honor and serve you.” And that same night, the stone passed and she was cured. She showed the stone to us and it was as big as a dove’s egg. Her husband Wicker, as well as Hermann, Baldemar, Henric, two men named Cunrad, two men named Henric, Ernest, Berta, and Mechthild of Ginsnich said under oath that they had seen her suffer with this miserable affliction and then suddenly, they saw her healthy.

18. Concerning the mad woman who was cured Englewip, a woman from the diocese of Mainz,39 when asked about the illness of her cousin Methild and the manner of her cure, said under oath that she saw her acting crazy for almost a year. She would rip off her own clothes and run about the city at night with dogs. When restrained, she tore with her teeth at the chains with which she was bound, doing many other things in an abominable and insolent manner. Twice she was taken to the sepulchre of the lady landgravine, but found no remedy. Led there a third time during a period of lucidity, she along with her friends invoked the grace of the lady landgravine, saying that she would serve her forever if she received health from her through her succoring merits. Within eight days, she received her health fully. Many wondered whether she had been prompted by a demon or by something else. Volkmar, Wahlmud, Frumehilt, Cristina, and Hedwig agreed with her under oath.

19. Concerning the feeble woman who was cured Aba of Grünberg in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about her infirmity and the manner of her cure, said under oath that she had suffered for a year and a half from chronic weakness, 40 not having the strength even to get out of bed, and needing to be carried by others when it was necessary for her to move. During the week of this past Pentecost, 41 she made a vow, saying: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, I will go to your sepulchre and bring you offerings, so that I may receive health by means of your merits and prayers. Until I have fulfilled my vow, I will never enter a church.” Immediately thereafter she was placed on a cart and she set out. In the midst of her journey, the cart broke down and she, using two canes, proceeded—something she could by no means have done before—to the tomb of the previously mentioned lady. There, after giving thanks and making her offerings, she returned home walking with her canes and was suddenly fully healed.

39. Uncharacteristically, no town is mentioned. 40. Valitudinaria. 41. Pentecost itself fell on May 30, 1232.

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Henric, Luduwic, and Demud, his daughter, all from Grünberg agreed with her completely under oath.

20. Concerning the mute and crippled girl who was cured Henric, a parish priest from Altenkirchen in the diocese of Trier, when asked about the infirmity of Adelheid and the manner of her cure, responded under oath that she had been mute and totally incapable of walking for five years and was dependent on her mother’s care. On the advice of a priest, the mother made a vow, saying: “Holy Lady Elizabeth the landgravine, I commend my daughter to your grace, to be offered at your tomb in perpetual service to you so that, through your merits, she may receive the ability to walk and to speak.” Taking the girl to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth, the mother made an offering and completed her prayers before taking the girl back home. After less than three weeks the girl spoke and walked. Iremgard, the mother of the girl, Lutgard, Adelheid, and Albert, all from the same village, said under oath that they had seen the girl during the indicated timeframe unable to walk or speak and then saw her again, after her return from the sepulchre, walking and speaking.

21. Concerning the blind person who was given sight Henric of Marburg in the diocese of Mainz, a man of more than forty years of age, said under oath that at one point spots began to grow over the pupils of his eyes and his vision became very poor. As a result, he often strayed from the road and ended up walking through the middle of the fields, his companions making fun of him. Ultimately he was deprived of his sight entirely and for four weeks he did not want to walk alone and so was led by others. Then, after making a vow, he visited the sepulchre of happy Elizabeth, offering two wax eyes. Asked what words he had used to invoke her, he responded: “Dear holy Lady Elizabeth, cure my eyes and I will willingly serve you forever and commit myself to paying two denarii to your hospital as tribute every single year of my life.” That very same hour while he was still at the sepulchre, the spots in his eyes disappeared and he began to see clearly. Asked when this had happened, he said: “On the fifteenth day after the death of Lady Elizabeth.”42 Afterward this same Henric suffered such a violent flow of blood 43 for four days that his family believed he was going to die. Rising from his bed at that time and supporting himself with his cane, he made his way with great effort from where he lived in the town of Marburg to the sepulchre of happy Elizabeth. Taking dirt from the tomb, he sprinkled it in water and sipped it three times. That 42. November 30, 1231. 43. Probably dysentery.

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very hour the flow of blood ceased, and he was not aware of it ever happening again. His brother Bertold, under oath, agreed completely with everything that Henric had said about the infirmity of his eyes. Asked how he had been cured, he responded that he only knew what he had heard from his brother’s mouth: that through the indulgence of happy Elizabeth he was cured after visiting her sepulchre. Asked about the blindness, Ludwic from the same village responded: “On one occasion, I saw him blind, being led about by a boy. Even though he stood right next to the courtyard of the hospital, he could not see it nor was he able to see me even though I was standing right next to him. In fact he said to me: ‘Is that you, Ludwic? I cannot see you because I am completely blind.’ ” Asked how it was that Henric had been cured, he responded that he only knew what he had heard from Henric’s own mouth: that he had been cured through the indulgence of Lady Elizabeth.

22. Concerning a girl with weak limbs, a hump, and a scrofula, who was cured Ortwin of Wetzlar in the diocese of Trier, when asked about his daughter Mehthild’s illness, the manner of her cure, and her age, said under oath that when she had completed her fourth year, she suddenly became so weak that when she was moved her limbs made a sound like dry logs rubbing against each other. A lump began to grow on her back along with a scrofula on her chest so that she was unable to stand on her own feet. The girl’s mother made a vow, saying: “Blessed Elizabeth, procure health for my daughter and I will have her brought to your tomb with offerings.” Once the offerings had been sent on ahead with another woman, the girl began to get better. Afterward, around the Feast of blessed Michael, 44 the girl was herself taken to the sepulchre and was completely cured right then and there. Mehthild, the mother of the girl, agreed under oath with the father. Rilind, from Wetzlar, as well as Adelheid, Ebeza, and Irmendrud, also of Wetzlar, concurred with the others except that they had not heard the vow or invocation that was made on behalf of the girl. But they did see the girl when she was sick and then again later when she was well.

23. Concerning the epileptic who was cured Cunrad of Padberg in the diocese of Cologne, when asked about his illness and the manner of his cure, said under oath that around the Feast of St. James45 44. September 29, 1232. 45. July 25, 1232.

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he became an epileptic. He suffered such intense and serious attacks, that, deprived of the powers of both mind and body, he disdained not only himself but his possessions: not caring at all about his own property, he distributed and dispersed it here and there. Finally, at the insistence of his friends, he asked three widows to fast for three days and then to make a vow on his behalf that he would go with offerings to the tomb of the lady landgravine every year of his life. When the widows had done this, the man was relieved of his malady in part and, after visiting the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth himself, he was fully freed from this assault to his senses and his body. Asked when he had been cured, he said that it was on the anniversary of the death of Lady Elizabeth. 46 Richolf, Gerlach, and Adelolt, all from Padberg, concurred under oath with him, except that they had heard neither the vow nor the invocation made on his behalf.

24. Concerning the epileptic mute who was healed Hildegund of Wetzlar in the diocese of Trier, when asked about her son’s illness, the manner of his cure, and his age, said under oath that when he had finished his fourth year—at which point he had been speaking without difficulty for some time—he was afflicted with epilepsy and deprived of the ability to speak. His mother made a vow, saying: “Blessed Elizabeth, heal my son from these evils, which he now suffers, and every single year for as long as he lives, two denarii will be offered to you on his behalf.” The boy was immediately healed, regaining the ability to speak, and was taken with offerings to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth. Asked how long the condition had lasted, she replied, “twelve weeks.” Gotfrid of Wetzlar saw the boy when he was mute though he did not witness any epileptic fits, since his mother concealed this part of his illness. Later he saw the boy cured. Adelheid of Wetzlar concurred with this.

25. Concerning a certain wounded man who was healed Ortlieb of Grünberg in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the wound on his knee and how it had been healed, said under oath that he had injured his knee—he even showed us how it appeared now—with an ax so gravely that he had not been able to rise from his bed from the middle of October until Easter. In the meantime, another problem had begun to develop, one that he believed was a carbuncle. 47 Ultimately the wound afflicted him so much that he and others despaired not only for his leg but for his very life. Lying prostrate on the ground in the form of a cross, his friends made a vow that he would come to 46. November 16, 1232. 47. Antrax, that is, a malignant boil.

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the tomb of the lady landgravine Elizabeth every single year with an offering or some other gift, so that he would deserve to receive his health through her intervention and her merits. The pain in the leg began to subside from that time on to the point that by Pentecost 48 he was able to set out for the tomb of Lady Elizabeth, supporting himself with two crutches, though he was still unable to touch the ground with his injured leg. Along the way he received grace so that by the time of his return, he was able to throw away his crutches and proceed without support. At this point, as is clear to the commissioners, his health has been fully restored. He said he was about thirty years old. Stephan, Guntram, Cunrad, and Ludwic of Grünberg said under oath that they had seen him before his visit to the tomb when he was infirm in this way and then again later when he was healthy.

26. Concerning a certain woman, almost blind, who was given sight Hildegund, a girl from Grünberg in the diocese of Mainz who was approximately sixteen years of age by her calculation—this was confirmed by her mother—had for three years suffered from vision so poor that she could not discern any light at all during a waning moon and could barely make out any during a waxing moon. Nor could she see well enough in daylight to decide which path she ought to take. When news about the miracles of the lady landgravine first began to spread, she and her mother vowed to visit her tomb, saying: “Holy lady, if by your merits these eyes regain their sight, we will always be respectful toward you.” The girl committed herself to an annual tribute of two denarii to be paid to Lady Elizabeth on the anniversary of her death. Once the journey to the shrine had begun, the eyes of the girl opened and, as the membrane that had obstructed her vision tore, a great deal of matter flowed out, such that her mother was scarcely able to keep the flies from her face. They returned home right away. After that the girl’s eyes were clear, without any haze or cloudiness of any kind. She was healed around the Feast of the Nativity of the Lord 49 in the 1,232nd year of his birth. Iremdrud, her mother, Kunigund, Adelmud, Stephan, and Cunrad, who had seen her when she was blind and then again after she had been given sight in this way, concurred under oath with the girl.

27. Concerning the mad girl who was cured Sifrid, a shepherd of Lorbach in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about his daughter Kunigund, specifically in what way she had been sick and how she had been cured, said under oath that, in her sixth year, this girl became so 48. May 30, 1232. 49. December 25.

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destitute of bodily strength that she did not have the power to control her arms, legs, or head. She was also afflicted by insanity, to the point that she chewed on her own hands—and those of others if she could get to them—as if she were chewing on bread. Once her parents vowed to take her to the sepulchre of the landgravine Elizabeth and to return with offerings every single year after that to the extent that she was able, she immediately began to regain the mental and physical health that she had lacked for six weeks. Within eight days she was completely cured. Cunrad of Lorbach saw his little daughter in this condition, heard the vow being made to the lady landgravine, and, after the vow was fulfilled, saw her healed. Volewin, Herbord, Berthold, Cunrad, and Guntram from the same village agreed under oath with the first witness, but none of them was present when the vow was made.

28. Concerning the crippled humpback who was cured Gerhard, a citizen of Frankfurt in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the infirmity and cure of Cunrad of Puche, said under oath that Cunrad had lost control over his body below the waist. He was unable to move about by himself unless he dragged the front part of his body with one hand [and] the back part with the other. Moreover he said that he had a large lump on his back, as a result of which he frequently experienced great pain when he breathed.50 He was taken, as the result of a vow, to the tomb of blessed landgravine Elizabeth in a cart and remained there for three weeks, at the end of which he was cured of his lump. Returning home in a cart,51 he said: “Holy Elizabeth, I will not come to you again unless, as a result of your mercy, I can go on my own power. I will only go if the ability to do so is given to me.” Later, when he was told in his sleep that he was being given the power to walk, he began to hold himself up, using a fence and then other things for support, and thus he walked. Now he walks quite evenly.52 Asked when he had received this grace of walking, he said that it was around the time of the Feast of All Saints.53 Asked his age, he said that he was about twenty-two years old. Hermann, Bertold, Walther, Arnold, and Heinrich, all citizens of Frankfurt, agreed with the first witness under oath except that they did not know how long the malady had lasted nor had they seen the lump.

50. The Latin reads circa spiritualia, which would be “with regard to spiritual things,” but I suspect that it is a misreading of circa spiraculum, “with regard to breathing.” 51. The text uses two different terms, both of which I have translated as cart: currus and biga. 52. Satis plane. This could be: “on level ground.” Compare Miracle Depositions (1233) 15: in plano. 53. November 1, 1232.

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29. Concerning the lame man who was cured Henric of Seck in the diocese of Trier said under oath that on the Feast of St. Michael of the previous year54 he began to have problems with one of his legs, which swelled up to the point that it was like the leg of a statue.55 It also curved so that he was unable to touch the ground with it until the following Feast of the Pentecost.56 Moreover it lacked feeling as if it were dead. After the Feast of Pentecost he visited the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth twice—having previously made a vow to that effect—and began to feel a little better. Coming a third time, he was completely cured. Leaving his crutches at the sepulchre, he returned home on his own two feet, cured. Asked what words he had used for his vow, he responded: “Dear holy Lady Elizabeth, cure me in my leg and I will willingly serve you forever.” Emmercho, a conversus of the monastery of Seligenstadt,57 said under oath that he had seen Henric lying in bed in the monastery for a period of some twenty weeks and began to despair of his health. Later he saw him weakly supporting himself with walking sticks, and then finally, after the visits to the sepulchre, he saw him fully cured. Ekkehard, the deacon of Seck; Johannes, a canon of Gemünden; and Eberhard and Wernher, both laymen of Seck; said under oath that they had all seen him sick in this way and then afterward saw him healthy.

30. Concerning the girl with a f low of blood who was cured Berta of Biedenkopf in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the infirmity and the cure of her daughter Sophia, said under oath that from her infancy, that is, from the time she was eighteen weeks old, she suffered from a flow of blood that lasted for the next nine years. Moreover a large abscess had grown over the girl’s right eye, from which blood also flowed. After nine weeks the abscess subsided, but then a membrane grew over the pupil and covered her whole eye. After another year, the membrane went away, but the eye remained blind for the next four years. On the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin of the present year,58 the girl was completely cured of both the flow of blood and the blindness in her eye, that is, within a week after her mother had made a vow on her behalf to visit the sepulchre of the blessed Elizabeth and to pay one denarius as tribute each year for the rest of her life on the anniversary of the death of the blessed Elizabeth. 54. September 29, 1232. 55. Presumably in the sense that his leg was hard and rigid due to the swelling and felt numb, as is made clear further on. 56. May 30, 1232. 57. A Cistercian abbey near Offenbach. 58. September 8, 1232.

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Gerdrut said under oath that she had stayed home with this girl and so was just as aware of the flow of blood as the child’s mother was. She also knew about the blindness in the eye with the spot that lasted for a year, having seen it herself. But she said that she knew nothing about the blindness that lasted for four years after the spot had gone away except what she had learned from the mother’s reports and those of others. Hedwic from the same village said under oath that she knew about the flow of blood but had not seen the spot in the eye, because she was not living with the girl when she had the spot. But she did know about the blindness that lasted for four years afterward. Asked how she knew this, she responded that [she had tested the girl and thus verified that] she could see nothing with the healthy eye covered and the other eye open. Isendrut from the same village said under oath that she had taken care of this girl suffering from the flow of blood. There were times when she would carry her from the house twenty times in one night. She had also seen the spot in her eye. She knew about the blindness that lasted for four years after the spot had gone away because she tested her sight, just as Hedwic reported doing. Hildegunt said under oath that she had seen the spot and knew about the blindness. Gundrad said under oath that she had heard about the spot in the girl’s eye and had heard the mother complaining about the girl’s malady.

31. Concerning the girl whose hand was cured Mehthild of Biedenkopf in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that her thirteen-year-old daughter Methild had such a swollen left hand that it was almost useless to her for three years. Subsequently the forearm on the same side became so swollen and ulcerous that pus emanated from seven places on it for two years. Her mother made the following vow on the girl’s behalf: “Holy Elizabeth, I am obliging my daughter to pay an annual tribute of one denarius to you so that you will restore her health. And I will take her to your sepulchre with offerings.” From then on she began to feel better and the flow of pus began to diminish and dry up. In the end she was completely healed. The girl’s uncle Gerlac from the same village said under oath that he had witnessed everything and was aware of all that had been reported about her illness and her cure, adding that the girl’s arm curved in, its tendons being contracted. Gerdrud, Adelheit, Gundrat, and another Gerdrud said under oath that they had seen the girl before when she was healthy and then saw her later when she was sick, reporting just what was said before, except that they had not calculated the number of years that the condition lasted as precisely as the mother had, and they did not know when the mother made the vow. But they had seen the girl healthy since the time that the mother was said to have made the vow.

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And we, the examiners of the witnesses, saw seven scars on the girl’s other wise completely healed arm.

32. Concerning the epileptic girl who was cured Adelheid of Breidenbach in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that her oneand-a-half-year-old daughter Ysentrud had been an epileptic. Frequently throwing herself on the ground, she lay as if dead, grinding her teeth and foaming at the mouth. After she had been afflicted with this infirmity for a year, it got to the point where she would sometimes suffer seven attacks in the course of a single day and night. Finally her mother, at the beginning of Lent in the present year,59 made a vow on behalf of her daughter to send her with offerings to the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth barefoot and dressed in wool, obliging her to pay tribute in the amount of one denarius each year for the rest of her life. Asked when her daughter had been cured, the mother replied: “From the moment I made the vow she never again suffered from that infirmity.” Asked how recently before making her vow her daughter had suffered an attack, she responded: “That very week in which I made the vow.” The following Feast of the blessed Michael,60 she sent her daughter with offerings to the sepulchre of the blessed Elizabeth. Henric of Breidenbach said under oath that he had seen the girl sick in this way at the indicated time and then saw her continuously healthy after the vow was made. Isentrud agreed under oath with Heinric.

33. Concerning the lame boy who was healed Heidolf of Esbike in the diocese of Paderborn said under oath that Gerlac, the son of Cunrad from the same village, had been unable to walk for the first three and a half years of his life because his body had withered away from his kidneys on down. But after Easter of the present year61 he saw him healed and running about just fine. Asked how the boy had received his health and the ability to walk, he said that he did not know, except from the mother’s account. She told him that she had come to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth with her son. Crying bitterly, she placed her son on the ground at the encouragement of the conversus who was serving as custos62 of the tomb at the time. After a while the custos held out an egg to the boy, a little ways away, trying to get him to come to him. The boy, keeping his hand on the sarcophagus, got up, and

59. February 25, 1232. 60. September 29, 1232. 61. April 11, 1232. 62. The custos at a saint’s shrine was responsible for monitoring access to the tomb.

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walked toward the conversus at the end of the sarcophagus. The conversus then went to another spot and again the boy followed him on account of the egg. Fridric, Johannes, Lambert, and Eberhard from the same village agreed under oath with all of this. Brother Henric, the conversus who was serving as custos of the sepulchre, said under oath that what Heidolf had said was true. Sister Elizabeth,63 who also served as a custos of the sepulchre, said under oath that she had not seen the egg but she had seen the boy walking near the sepulchre.

34. Concerning the lame and humpbacked boy who was healed Heinrich of Elmshausen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath with regard to his six-year-old son Heidenric that he had begun to grow ill two years after his birth. Little by little his body began to contract to the point that he was unable to walk standing up; he could only walk with his hands placed on his knees and his head bent down almost to his knees. He also had a lump on his back that was the size of the head of a newborn baby. On the following Feast of St. Michael,64 the father asked three widows from his village to make a vow on behalf of his son: that within a year he would take him to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth with offerings and then every year after that, according to his ability, the boy would make another offering there. Immediately after having made the vow, the boy began to straighten up and the lump began to get smaller. We who heard this testimony saw him standing upright and walking well, with a lump no bigger than half an egg. Henric, Dido, Henric, Hartmann, Walther, Chrafto, Wernher, Gerlac, Ditric, Hartmann, Eberhard, Heidenric, two men named Sifrid, Ekkehard, and Hildegard, all from the same village, said under oath the same as the father except that they knew nothing of the vow that was made, except for Heidenric, who was present when the widows were asked to make the vow.

35. Concerning the epileptic girl who was cured Hildegund, a widow from Allna in the diocese of Mainz, said under oath, with regard to her daughter Mathilda, who was about eight years old, that she had suffered from epilepsy for the past four years. When it came upon her, she would fall to the ground, not foaming at the mouth, but with her eyes wide open and fixed and her fingers clenched and pressed against her palms, while she kicked the ground with her feet. She said that each attack lasted

63. This Elizabeth may have been the handmaid Elizabeth, who testified about St. Elizabeth’s life before the second papal commission. Compare the references to an “Irmengard” in Miracle Depositions (1233) 69 and 70. 64. September 29, 1232.

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less time than it takes to celebrate the mass, adding that her daughter sometimes suffered twice a day, sometimes only once, and sometimes not for an entire week. But she said that from last Pentecost65 to the present, her daughter had not suffered at all from this disease. Asked how she had been cured, she responded that on that same feast day, while the girl was suffering an attack, the mother called out: “Holy Elizabeth, help me with my daughter so that she might be freed from this illness.” She immediately came with her daughter to the sepulchre, offering a denarius and a wax image of a child, vowing that she would visit the same place every single year with more offerings. Hermann from the same village said under oath that the girl had lived in his house for an entire year and that he knew her to have suffered for two years with this illness. He concurred with the mother with regard to everything else, except for the vow. Asked how he knew that she had been cured, he said that from Pentecost up to the present he had neither seen nor heard of her suffering from this illness. Walther from the same place said under oath that he had known the girl from birth and had seen her sick in this manner and then healthy. She stayed at his house for fifteen days after the most recent Feast of the Lord’s Nativity66 and he saw no sign of the illness in her. Hartmann from the same village said under oath that he knew nothing except what his wife had related to him—that is, that she had seen her stricken in this way—and what many others had told him—that is, that she had been cured.

36. Concerning the epileptic boy who was cured Eckehard of Erfurtshausen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that his three-and-a-half-year-old son Gerlac had suffered for half a year with epilepsy. In the beginning he was stricken once a week but toward the end, he was suffering two or three times a week, falling to the ground as he foamed at the mouth, with his fingers compressed and his eyes open and fixed. It would last for a period of time equal to the time that it takes to celebrate mass. Asked how he had been cured, he responded: “As the result of the invocation of Lady Elizabeth and the vow which my mother made on behalf of my boy.” Asked about the way in which she made the vow, he said: “I heard from my mother that she said: ‘I will offer two denarii to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth every single year as long as the boy shall live.’ ” Asked when the vow had been made, he said that he did not know. He added that his mother had made the vow after he himself had begged her to do so, because she was a widow. Asked when the boy had begun to regain his health, he responded: “From that Tuesday 65. May 30, 1232. 66. December 25, 1232.

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preceding the time of Rogation67 when the boy was carried to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth. Once he was in her presence that sickness was not seen in the boy again.” Irmendrud, the boy’s grandmother, concurred under oath with Eckehard, adding that she made the vow eight days before the Feast of the Ascension of the Lord.68 Meingot, the boy’s uncle, agreed under oath with everything that Eckehard had said.

37. Concerning the blind boy who was given sight Irmendrud of Unterrosphe in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that her only son Henric, who was one year old, had begun one night to suffer from a problem of the eyes, as a result of which they remained closed and very swollen for fifteen days straight. He was unable to open the eyes and blood oozed from them day and night. She added that after the Feast of the Assumption of Blessed Mary69 she made a vow that would oblige her to offer each year two denarii and a chicken to the hospital of Lady Elizabeth and to visit her sepulchre with her son with additional offerings. Asked on what day she made the vow, she responded: “On Monday.”70 Asked on what day she offered71 the boy to Elizabeth, she said: “On the following Wednesday,” and added that on that same day at the tomb of the Lady Elizabeth, the boy was cured, that is, the swelling went away, his eyes opened again, and the bleeding stopped. Right away he could see clearly and his face, which had been stained with the blood and pus flowing from his eyes, suddenly appeared as if it had been washed. Rupert and Irmendrud, his wife, both from the same village, concurred with the mother except that Rupert said that he had not seen the boy sick except on that day.72 Asked if they had been present on the day of the offering of the boy, they said yes and that they had seen everything just as it was described before. Asked if they had been present when the mother made her vow, they said no. Isendrud and Ludwic from the same village said under oath that on the day when the child was taken to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth, they saw him sick and then well, just as has been said; but that they were not present at the sepulchre.

67. May 18, 1232. The so-called Minor Rogation was traditionally celebrated over the three days before the Feast the Ascension, which, in turn, was celebrated forty days after Easter. In 1232, the Feast of the Ascension occurred on Friday, May 21. The previous Tuesday would have been May 18. 68. May 13, 1232. 69. August 15, 1232. 70. In die lune. This is the only place where the scribe diverges from the official ecclesiastical terms for the days of the week (i.e., first ferial, second ferial, etc.). 71. The word used here is obtulisset. The vow, as recorded, makes no mention of the boy being “offered” to Elizabeth. 72. Presumably the day on which he was offered to Elizabeth.

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Asked how it was that they were able to see him sick and then healthy on the same day, they said that the boy was brought back home the same day that he visited the shrine, the distance between Unterrosphe and Elizabeth’s shrine being no more than a mile. Gerdrud, Arnold, Cunrad, Richard, Bertrad, Henric, and Gotschalc from the same village said under oath that they had seen the boy blind in that way for fifteen days and then, after the return of his mother, they saw him healthy on various occasions. And we the investigators saw him and his eyes were clear.

38. Concerning the blind woman who was given sight Gertrud of Unterrosphe in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that for forty years her eyes had been good,73 but then she went blind for one whole year. Though her eyes were open, she was unable to discern anything, not even daylight or fire, because her pupils were covered by a layer of skin—or so people told her. She had to be led by her hand wherever she needed to go. Asked how and when she had recovered, she responded that it happened after she had invoked Lady Elizabeth in this manner: “Most dear Lady Elizabeth, on account of the grace that the Lord did for you and the glory that you have in heaven, help me with my eyes.” She went on to say “when I had repeated this a number of times, I began to recover my vision little by little, so that I could make out houses and churches and finally go about without a guide wherever I wished to go.” Asked when this had occurred, she said that it happened around the Feast of St. Michael.74 Asked about the offerings, she responded that she had offered eggs, incense, and wax, like a poor woman.75 Ludwic, Isendrud, Irmendrud, Arnold, Bertrad, Rupert, Heinric, Cunrad, and Richard, all from the same village, said under oath that they had known her for a long time and knew her to have been totally blind for a whole year. They said that they had led her by the hand and that some of them had tried to help by placing salt in her eyes. They all agreed that she could now see well. We, too, saw her seeing well.

39. Concerning the woman cured of pustules on her head Hiltegund of Marburg in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that, with the appearance of many black pustules on one part of her head and the onset of a grave illness accompanying them, she and her family had begun to lose all 73. The text reads “clear eyes”: claros oculos. 74. September 29, 1232. 75. The latin read: ceram sicut paupercula. This could be a reference either to the quality of the offerings as a whole or to the shape of the wax, though normally in cases of blindness the wax would have been made to look like eyes.

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hope. Theoderic of Anscheinend and Cristina, Hiltegund’s sister, made a vow, saying: “Holy Elizabeth, help this one and procure her health and once she has recovered, she will enter your church, before she enters any other, to make an offering equal to the weight of her body as well as wax images of eyes.”76 They made the vow on her behalf because at the time the power of speech had been completely taken from her, her head having swelled up so much. Once the vow had been made, the sister rushed to the tomb of holy Elizabeth, took dirt from it, and spread it on Hiltegund’s head and immediately she began to grow calm. Then the pustules broke and the woman was freed from her illness. Her sister Cristina of Marburg, Dieteric of Anscheinend, Walbrun Aba, another Cristina of Marburg, and Dietric of Sarnau all concurred, under oath, with what had been said before: that she was cured that same night.

40. Concerning the paralytic who was cured Aba of Biedenkopf in the diocese of Mainz, who was more than thirty years old, had suffered from partial paralysis in her limbs for three years. Spending most of her time lying in bed, she could lift herself up only with great effort. She could move about only slowly and with the greatest difficulty; if she took thirty steps she would have to pause two or three times, her limbs trembling all the while. For half a year she was unable to eat any bread and became so sick that she summoned a priest and prepared herself for death by confessing and taking communion. Finally she invoked the intercession of happy Elizabeth by visiting her sepulchre in accordance with a vow. Asked what words she had used in her vow, she responded: “I prayed as follows: ‘Holy lady, pray for my soul and my body.’ ” Spending the night at the hospital, she saw herself in her dream extend her hand into the sepulchre and touch the sacred body, which seemed to her to be wet. With her hand so moistened, she began to rub her legs. Waking up suddenly, she made her way to the sepulchre. She put her hand into the sepulchre and thus moistened it. She then rubbed her legs and other limbs with the same hand and immediately she began to walk with greater ease. Feeling better each passing day, she was in the end fully cured. Asked when this had happened, she responded: “Around the Tuesday of Pentecost this year.”77 Adelheit of the same village said under oath that she saw her sick, just as was said before. Asked how many days before the invocation and the visit to the shrine she had last seen her sick, she responded that on the day before the visit, she had seen her sick and then saw her again afterward, cured. Hadewig from the same village said under oath that she was in the habit of visiting her

76. Given her condition, it is not clear why the wax would be fashioned in the shape of eyes. 77. Pentecost occurred on May 30 in 1232. The following Tuesday would have been June 1.

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home and so had often seen her afflicted by this illness, but then she saw her cured after her visit to the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth. Hildegunt and Theodric from the same village said the same thing under oath. Two women both named Adelheit said under oath that they had seen her sick for a long time and then afterward had seen her well.

41. Concerning the epileptic who was cured Sifrid of Buseck in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that her son Hermann had struggled for almost four years with epilepsy. He frequently fell to the ground, gnashing his teeth, foaming at the mouth, and calling out, with his eyes fixed, as he beat his hands and feet on the ground. As a result of this, his father made a vow on his behalf that he would take him as well as some offerings to the sepulchre of happy Elizabeth. Moreover he obligated his son to pay a tribute of two denarii every year to her hospital. The boy’s mother made the same vow. From that day on up to the present time, the boy suffered no attacks. Asked how recently before the vow he had experienced such an attack, she responded that the very day that [her husband] made the vow, the boy had already suffered three of them. The boy was fifteen years of age. Asked when the father had made the vow, she responded: “Around the middle of Lent this year.78 Richolf, Berta, and Adelheit from the same village concurred under oath with the father except that they had not seen him make the vow.

42. Concerning the lame girl who was healed Henric of Massenhaim in the diocese of Mainz said, under oath, that his daughter Lutgard had been unable to walk up to the age of four and a half, her arms and legs being extremely reduced in size, with skin that was wrinkled like folded bread. As a result, the father and mother made a vow on behalf of their daughter that they would take her, along with some offerings, to the tomb of blessed Elizabeth on the Feast of the Passion of the Apostles Peter and Paul of the present year.79 Moreover they obligated this same daughter to pay tribute in the amount of two denarii every year for the rest of her life. After four weeks, the girl began to walk, receiving her strength along with her health.

78. Ash Wednesday fell on February 25 in 1232. Roughly twenty days later (Lent lasts forty days) would place the cure sometime around March 17. 79. June 29, 1232.

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Bertold and Wigand from the same village said under oath that they had seen the girl afflicted with this infirmity and then saw her healed after the visit to the sepulchre. Lutgard, Werner, and Wigand agreed under oath with what was said before, with the exception that they were uncertain as to the precise timing; that is to say, they did not know how much time had passed after she left Marburg before she was able to walk.

43. Concerning the epileptic girl who was cured Henric of Marburg in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that his ten-year-old daughter Hildegunt had struggled with epilepsy for three years to the point that she often fell on the ground shouting, gnashing her teeth, and foaming at the mouth, with her hands and feet striking the ground and beating herself. As a result the father of the girl, having made a vow, took her along with some offerings to the sepulchre of happy Elizabeth and prayed for the health of his daughter. Asked what words he had used, he replied: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, I beg you, heal my daughter so that I might always serve you.” Moreover he obligated his daughter to pay a tribute of two denarii each year for the rest of her life. Asked when he had made the vow, he said “around the Feast of St. Vitus of the present year,”80 adding that from that time on, the girl had experienced no such attacks. Lutdrut from the same village said, under oath, that he had seen the girl suffering with this infirmity on five different occasions but that after the time of the vow he had seen no signs of this illness in her. Two women named Berta from the same village said under oath that they had seen her suffering from the disease once but never again after the time of the vow.

44. Concerning the lame boy who was cured Isentrud of Zeppenfeld in the diocese of Trier, when asked about the marvelous healing of her son Bruno and about the illness that had preceded this grace, responded under oath that for three years the boy had been crippled in such a way that one leg was under the other and both were bent so that the knees were effectively stuck to the abdomen. Moreover there was pus on the skin of the legs and the abdomen, the stench of which could scarcely be tolerated. The boy was unable to walk or crawl or even move on his own. He endured this condition miserably enough from the Feast of St. Catherine to the first Sunday of Lent.81

80. June 15, 1232. 81. The Feast of St. Catherine falls on November 25. The following Caput quadragesimae (first Sunday of Lent) would have been February 29, 1232.

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At that time the mother, who was lamenting and mourning the recent death of her daughter, began to invoke Lady Elizabeth with great supplication. She begged her to help assuage the pain stemming from the death of her daughter by securing from the Lord a cure for her crippled son. She was in the process of fashioning a wax image of a man and a candle that was as long as his son so that she could offer them to Lady Elizabeth—whose name she still did not know at the time82—when she saw her son standing up, leaning on two firebrands. Overjoyed, she invited her husband to go with her to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth as soon as he was able. This was done according to her wishes and, having made the offerings at the sepulchre, the father and mother returned home to find their son walking with the aid of a cane. Little by little he was fully cured. And we saw him restored to his full health and leaping for joy. Gerhard, the father of the boy, was asked about this and he agreed under oath with his wife. Hildegund, Lupburg, Elyzabet, and Berta, the boy’s aunts, concurred with this under oath, having seen the boy sick in this way and then later seeing him cured.

45. Concerning the paralytic who was cured Jordan of Bacha in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the malady with which he had struggled and the way in which he was cured, said under oath that he had suffered greatly from a form of paralysis that made the use of his limbs—his feet, his legs, his hands—very difficult. He also said that this condition had lasted for approximately one year and sixteen weeks. Finding no remedy at all from anyone, he finally made his way to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth, despite the difficulty of doing so, hoping for the favor of a cure. Approaching the sepulchre, he humbly asked for mercy nine times, and suddenly he came away fully cured. He who had seemed so miserable to everyone before was now leaping for joy. He never needed to beg again after that, supporting himself with the work of his own hands. He said that he recovered his health on the Feast of St. Lawrence.83 Fridric, a priest in that place, Wigand, Henric, and another Fridric, all concurred with him under oath and were aware of the grace done to him.

46. Concerning the blind, deaf, dumb, and lame girl who was cured Arnold of Eppenrod in the diocese of Trier, when asked about his daughter Methhild who had been deprived of her sight and hearing, as well as her ability

82. Apparently she was acting in accordance with the advice of someone who was more aware of the new cult than she was. 83. August 10, 1232.

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to speak and walk, responded under oath that he, along with his wife, had made a vow to God and to the blessed Elizabeth that, if an act of grace were done for him in the form of a cure for his daughter, he would take her, as soon as possible, to the tomb of the blessed Elizabeth with some offerings. That very same day on which the vow was made, the girl began to improve in every way and little by little was completely restored to health. Asked how long her malady had lasted, he responded: “Sixteen weeks.” Asked about her age, he responded: “Fifteen.” Asked when the cure had occurred, he said that it took place around the Feast of St. Bartholomew.84 Henric and two men named Engelbert from the same village said under oath that they had seen the girl sick with all of these problems and then later saw her cured. With regard to timing of her malady and her age, they concurred with the father.

47. Concerning the drowned girl who was revived Demud of Zeppenfeld in the diocese of Trier, when asked about her two-yearold daughter Isendrud who was reported to have drowned, responded under oath that she was not present when she drowned, but that from a distance she had cried out in terror upon seeing her other, six-year-old daughter, from whose arms the little girl had fallen into the rushing current, wailing on the banks of the river and striking her own hands. As the mother and the other villagers were rushing to the river, a woman pulled the little girl from the water dead and placed her on the grass. The girl’s eyes were closed and she was blue in the lips and indeed throughout her entire body. Asked what was done about her afterward, the mother responded that other women had positioned themselves around the girl and would not allow her to get close to her, but that after some time had passed it was reported to her that the girl had revived. Making her way into the house where the girl was, she found her alive. Asked how far from where the girl had fallen into the water she had been found, the mother responded, “a crossbow shot’s distance.”85 Asked how she knew this, she responded that her other daughter—the one who had dropped the little one into the river—had told her. The mother added that, encouraged by a villager, she along with others from the same place invoked Lady Elizabeth, saying: “Holy Elizabeth, help me, so that my daughter is revived, and I will visit your sepulchre with her.” Asked when this happened, she responded: “Fourteen days after Easter.”86 Asked how much time had passed from the time she learned that her daughter had drowned to the time it was reported to her that she had revived, she responded: “More time than it takes to sing the mass.”

84. August 24, 1232. 85. Ad tractum baliste. 86. April 25, 1232.

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Hildegund from the same village concurred under oath with the mother that she had seen the little girl dead, lying on the grass with her eyes closed, with her mouth and body blue and puffed up. She was also in agreement as to when this had happened. She added that, once everyone from the village had begun beseeching Lady Elizabeth, supplicating her on bent knee, the little girl who was lying there came back to life. Asked about the distance between the place where she drowned and the place where she was recovered, she responded that it was twice as far as a bow can shoot.87 Lupold from the same village agreed with everything that Hildegund had said. Arnolf, a parish priest from that same place, said under oath that he had come to the place where we were hearing testimony because it was impossible for everyone who had witnessed this miracle to come to us, the investigators, due to the burdens of distance and time. He had therefore adjured eight people to speak the truth about this matter, using the threat of eternal judgment and every other means at his disposal, and they concurred completely with the two women whose testimony was recorded above. One woman who at the time of her testimony was near death testified that this was true.

48. Concerning the humpbacked and crippled man who was cured Isendrud of Frankfurt in the diocese of Mainz, when asked how the humpbacked and crippled Cunrad of Frankfurt had been cured, responded under oath that this same Cunrad had, for more than a year, been unable to move except by dragging himself on his back with his hands, because his legs were totally drawn up and contracted. He made a vow to go to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth to receive the gift of health. Because he was a beggar and had nothing, he begged alms from the faithful in church and had himself taken to the tomb. He returned home around the Feast of the Nativity of the Virgin88 relieved of his hump. He went back to the tomb and returned home once again this time fully healed, only leaning a little on a cane when he walked. Bertrad, Adelheid, and Bilhilt of Frankfurt agreed under oath with the first witness concerning the servant’s maladies and their duration. They said that they had seen the servant sick, begging in church in his desire to visit the tomb, but then later they saw him healthy, just as was said before.

49. Concerning the drowned man who came back to life Fridric Flasche of Wiesbaden in the diocese of Mainz was said to have drowned in the naturally hot bath there. Asked how this had happened, 87. Compare Genesis 21:16. 88. September 8, 1232.

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he responded under oath that he—who happened to be an expert swimmer—had managed to offend a poor person in that bath by contemptuously splashing water in his face. Offended, the pauper—who was said to have once been the beneficiary of a vision through the merits of Lady Elizabeth—said: “May the holy lady who granted me that grace avenge me; may you never leave this place except as a dead man!” Ignoring the poor man’s curse, the man sank perversely in the water and began to drown, deprived of all his strength. He was unable even to make the sign of the cross except with his thumb near his chest. He slipped to the bottom thinking that he had been struck down by a sword. Everyone else thought that he was acting sluggishly under water on purpose, because he was good at it and used to do it frequently. Markolf of Wiesbaden, when asked about this, concurred under oath with Fridric about how he had offended the pauper and about the curse. He added that when he had been under water a long time, Markolf shouted: “Where is Fridric?” Another poor man answered him: “He must have left the bath without me seeing, after I laid down and fell asleep.” Markolf continued: “Returning to the water, I began to search for Fridric and, feeling him with my feet, I pulled him dead out of the water and placed him on the ground. Mourning over him greatly, I and two of his sisters began to pray most intently for the intercession of holy Elizabeth, vowing on his behalf that if he were to come back to life, he would make his way to her tomb. We carried him dead like that to his home and together with his wife we repeated our vow to Lady Elizabeth, renewing our prayers. And Elizabeth restored his spirit to him and he revived.” Asked about the age of the one who had been revived, Markolk reported him to be about twenty-six years old. Asked when it was that he had been resuscitated, he said that it happened on the Feast day of John and Paul in the present year.89 Asked what words he had used to invoke her, he responded: “Holy Elizabeth, do not let him die this miserable death. If he comes back to life, we will take him to your sepulchre and make offerings.” Hartmud, who ran the bath, swore to be in complete agreement with Markolf.

50. Concerning the blind woman who was given sight Hadewig of Allertshausen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that her daughter Berta, now fifteen years of age, had been blind for the last two and a half years but now could see again. Asked how her daughter had incurred this condition, she responded that one night her daughter went to bed fully able to see but when she got up the next morning she could not see a thing. 89. June 26, 1232.

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Asked about the condition of her eyes, she said that they were covered with a red membrane and many tiny veins. She had to be led from place to place because she was unable even to discern the light of day. Asked how her daughter regained her sight, she responded that once she learned about the miracles of Lady Elizabeth, she vowed that she would go with offerings to her church. Eight days after she made the vow, she suddenly began to see and little by little she fully regained her sight. Asked when it was that her daughter had made the vow, she responded that it was before the Feast of St. James,90 adding that, the very next harvest season she took in the crops and later recultivated with the help of this same daughter. She also said that she made her daughter promise to give twelve denarii and a pound of wax to Lady Elizabeth every year for as long as the daughter lived. Berta, the daughter, agreed under oath with everything her mother had said, though she did not know what her own eyes looked like except from the mother’s description. When asked her age, she said that she did not know. Siboto, a parish priest from the same place, said under oath that he had seen the girl blind for the previously stated period of time and then later saw her able to see. We ourselves also saw her having clear eyes and able to see.

51. Concerning the lame man who was healed Theoderic of Holzhausen in the diocese of Mainz, sixteen years of age, said under oath that on the previous Feast of the blessed Martin91 he began to grow ill, feeling an intense pain in his thighs, his knees, and his legs to the point that he simply stayed in bed, unable to walk, having to be carried by other men. He lay like that until the Feast of the Nativity of the Lord92 and then began to support himself with crutches, walking poorly until the Feast of Pentecost.93 Then he, along with others on his behalf, made a vow that he would visit the sepulchre of holy Elizabeth with offerings. On the Friday before Pentecost94 he set out. It took him eight days of continuous effort to cover the ten miles that separated his village from the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth. He stayed in the hospital there for four weeks, going to the tomb every day to invoke her intercession. Still not cured, he began to make his way back home. When he had reached a distance equal to three bow shots from the hospital, he sat down to rest along with a traveling companion who was suffering from a similar ailment. While sitting there

90. July 25, 1232. 91. November 11, 1231. 92. December 25, 1231. 93. May 30, 1232. 94. May 28, 1232.

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he fell asleep and in his dreams he saw a person coming toward him who drenched him completely in water. Waking up he said to his companion: “Why did you let me get doused with water?” His companion cheerfully responded: “Rise and put aside your crutches; I bet you have been cured.” Laying aside one of his walking sticks, Theoderic got up right away and, using the other, walked a bit, feeling that he had indeed gotten better. Then placing both of the crutches on his shoulders, he made his way back to the sepulchre, giving thanks to God and blessed Elizabeth. He then returned home cured. We, the investigators, saw him healthy. Theoderic’s father Ditmar, who had taken care of him when he was sick and lying on his back in his house, confirmed under oath what his son had said with regard to his infirmity, his cure, and its timing. A nobleman from Holzhausen named Bernhard, a knight named Arnold, and three others named Albert, Cunrad, and Hermann said under oath that they had known Theoderic when he was healthy before his illness; that they had then seen him suffering from this infirmity for the previously mentioned period of time; and that they saw him come home cured after his visit to Lady Elizabeth.

52. Concerning the woman who was healed in her hands and legs Isentrut of Eudorf in the diocese of Mainz, forty years of age, said under oath that on the vigil of St. Michael,95 she began to experience a kind of weakness in her hands. They became swollen and trembled constantly, to the point that she was able to direct her hands to her mouth only slowly and with considerable difficulty when she wanted to eat. Moreover she was incapable of doing any work for four years. After the first two years, she suffered a similar debilitation in her legs. There was tremendous swelling in her knees even though her lower legs were wasting away. The tendons and veins contracted to the point that she was unable to extend her legs and so could not walk at all and had to be carried about by others. She added that even if hot coals were about to fall on top of her feet, she would not have been able to move them out of the way or to pull them back by herself. She was stricken with the weakness in her legs for two years and with the weakness in her hands for four. After making a vow, she visited the sepulchre with offerings and, on the third day after the Feast of St. Margaret,96 while she was tearfully invoking blessed Elizabeth’s intercession at the tomb, she was fully cured in her hands, her legs, and indeed her entire body. Although she had been brought to Marburg

95. The night before the Feast of St. Michael (September 29), that is, September 28. 96. St. Margaret of Antioch’s feast day was celebrated in the west on July 20. For some reason, Huyskens opted for the eastern date of July 13. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 201.

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on a cart and then had to be carried from the cart to the sepulchre, she was now able to get up, stand on her own feet, and leave the church on her own. From then on wherever she wanted to go, she just walked there without any difficulty. And we, the investigators, saw her healthy. Volknand, her husband, asserted under oath that he had seen on a daily basis everything that his wife had reported, adding that, during her infirmity, he had frequently carried her and taken care of her, and that she returned home from her visit to the sepulchre cured. Rudolf from the same village said under oath that he had known Isentrut before her infirmity and that he had seen her frequently during the time she suffered from it. Asked how recently before her cure he had seen her sick, he said that he had himself gone with her to the sepulchre and so on the very same day he saw her sick and then well. Gebene, Rudolf, Heinrich, Ludwich, another Heinrich, Rudolf, Conrat, Eberolt, Cunrat, and Adelheit, all from the same village, said under oath that they had seen this woman sick, just as was said, and then after the visit to the sepulchre of the blessed Elizabeth they saw her healthy.

53. Concerning the epileptic who was cured Wigand from Hahnstätten in the diocese of Trier, nineteen years of age, said under oath that she had been an epileptic from infancy. During the Feast of Pentecost this year,97 on a Monday, she came with an offering in fulfillment of a vow to the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth and invoked her intercession. Asked what words she used when she made her vow, she responded: “I prayed that the holy lady heal me from this infirmity and from that time on I was healthy.” Fridric her brother, Heinric, Albero, Hermann, and Sifrid, all from the same village, and Ekkehart from Neisen, all said under oath that up until the time she visited the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth, they had frequently seen her suffering from this infirmity, but that afterward they saw her healthy.

54. Concerning the humpbacked boy with the scrofula on his neck who was cured Hadewig of Limburg in the diocese of Trier said under oath that when she was a handmaid to Hermann Castolf, a citizen of the city of Limburg, she took his son—who had a scrofula on his neck, a hump on his back, and was unable to lift his head from his shoulder—to the tomb of the lady landgravine in accordance

97. May 30, 1232.

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with a vow made by his parents. There, little by little, the boy was totally cured from these three maladies. This happened around last Pentecost. Guntram of Limburg said under oath that he had seen the boy in that condition before he went to the tomb and then afterward saw him well. Bertheid of Limburg concurred under oath with Guntram concerning the timing, the infirmity, and the healing. We, who heard these witnesses, saw the same boy, healthy in every way.

55. Concerning the lame boy with the scrofula who was cured Methild of Berstadt of the diocese of Mainz said under oath that her son Henric had suffered for two years from extreme weakness in one leg and one arm, to the point that he completely lost the use of them. He also had a scrofula on his chest. He was taken, along with offerings—specifically one denarius and a wax image of a man—to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth on the day of blessed Margaret.98 Methild invoked Elizabeth’s intercession for the sake of her child’s health and on the return journey, the boy began to stretch out his arm. By the time he had arrived home, he was cured of both the weakness in his leg and arm and the scrofula. Kunigund and Henric, her husband, both from the same village, agreed under oath with the mother. Kunigund added that she had taken the boy to the tomb at her own expense. Cunrad, the father of the boy, concurred with the mother about the malady and the cure as well as their timing.

56. Concerning the lame and humpbacked woman who was cured Azecha of Bicken of the diocese of Trier said under oath that when she was fourteen years old, she began to grow ill and little by little three lumps grew on her thigh and a fourth on her shoulders. Moreover the veins in both legs and one arm began to grow rigid and her legs and arm grew very weak. She also experienced weakness in her neck to the point that she was unable to lift her head. Beyond that she suffered from so many internal pains that she was unable to walk, stand, or sit. Later, as she reported, she was carried to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth in accordance with a vow made by her parents, and her health began to be restored right away to the point that, by the time she had been carried outside the church, she was able to sit. Taken back home she got progressively better. By her fourth visit to the tomb of the blessed Elizabeth, she had fully regained the power to hold up her head and the use of her limbs—that is, of her hands and feet—so that she was able to walk and spin wool and carry

98. July 20, 1232; or, according to Huyskens, July 13. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, 203.

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out other tasks. She was completely free of three of the lumps and the fourth one was getting progressively smaller. By the time of her deposition, it was half of what it had been. And we saw that this was so and we touched the lump. Asked how long she had been ill, she responded: “One whole year plus fourteen weeks.” Asked when it was that she was first taken to the tomb, she responded: “On the Wednesday of last Pentecost.99 Godesdry, the mother of the girl, agreed under oath with her daughter with regard to everything, adding that she, on behalf of her daughter, had twice taken a wax image among other things as offerings to the tomb of Elizabeth and had made her daughter promise to give two denarii as tribute each year for the rest of her life. Gerlac, her father, agreed under oath with everything said by the previous two. The parish priest of the same village agreed under oath with everything that had been said before. He added that when the parents hesitated to take the girl to the tomb on account of the severity of her illness—afraid that she might die along the way and that they would then be compelled to do penance and satisfaction for being the cause of her death—he counseled them and insisted that they take the girl, relieving them of the fear of having to do penance if she should die on the way. A knight named Fridric and his wife Sophia from the same place agreed with the others on all of these points, adding that they had seen the girl sick in this way and then afterward restored to health, and that he had advised them that they should take her to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth. Elberic and his wife Gundrad, neighbors of the girl, concurred under oath with everything that was said before. Heinric, the girl’s brother, and Albert, the husband of the girl’s sister, concurred with the others concerning her illness and her health, which they witnessed.

57. Concerning the woman with the distorted face who was cured Lutgard of Auerbach in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that she, twenty years of age, fell asleep in the middle of the day sometime around the Feast of St. Margaret100 while she was lying in a strange way. When she woke up, her mouth and one of her eyes were distorted so that she could not close her eye, which trembled incessantly, and she was unable to produce any saliva or spit in her mouth. Her teeth looked deformed and her whole face contorted. She visited the sepulchre in accordance with a vow and, with her head bent over 99. June 2, 1232. 100. July 20 (or 13, as Huyskens has it), 1232. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 205.

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the tomb as she humbly implored Elizabeth’s assistance, she succeeded in closing her eye and the other parts of her face began to go back to normal. Within seven days her face was fully restored to its prior condition. On that occasion she made an offering of a wax face made in her own image. When she invoked the aid and grace of Lady Elizabeth, she committed herself to an annual tribute in the amount of four denarii for the rest of her life. Asked how long she had suffered from this condition, she replied that it had lasted eight weeks. Wortwin, the father of this lady, concurred under oath with regard to her condition—which he had seen with his own eyes—the journey to the tomb, and the health that she received immediately thereafter. Tragboto, the husband of this lady, concurred under oath with what the father had said.

58. Concerning the lame boy who was cured Sifrid, a knight from Allendorf in the diocese of Mainz, said under oath that his son, who was nearly eight years of age, had been completely unable to walk for the past seven years.101 For the sake of securing his son’s health, he made a vow and took a wax image of a man and other offerings to the tomb of Lady Elizabeth. Once these offerings had been made, the boy, who was at home, received the grace of being able to walk. This happened on or about the last Feast of the Nativity of John the Baptist.102 Asked about the words he had used to invoke Lady Elizabeth, Sifrid said that he could not remember. Heinric, Bertrad, and Aba, servants of this knight, said under oath that they had seen the boy sick on various occasions and then, after the offerings had been made, they saw him healthy. They concurred with the father. We ourselves saw this same boy walking tentatively, like a child learning to walk.

59. Concerning the man paralyzed from the waist down who was cured Ruker of Kröffelbach in the diocese of Trier, eighteen years of age, said under oath that he went to bed healthy on the Sunday following the last Feast of St. Margaret,103 but when roused the following morning by his lord, who wanted him to go out and tend to his usual duties, he found himself without the use of his limbs from the waist down. This paralysis lasted from that time until the Feast of St. Lawrence.104 On the vigil of St. Lawrence, he was taken in a horse-drawn carriage to the door of the church of Lady

101. 102. 103. 104.

In other words, he had never been able to walk. June 24, 1232. July 20, 1232. August 10, 1232.

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Elizabeth and from there he was carried by his brother to the tomb. There he made offerings, that is, a denarius and an image of a man, and invoked Lady Elizabeth’s intercession with regard to his health. Returning home, he began, in the midst of the journey, to feel stronger. He sensed that his health was being restored to him little by little, until, over the course of the next eight days, he received it fully, to the point that he was able to walk and carry out his accustomed duties. And we saw him in good health. Frideric and Werner, his brothers, concurred with him under oath, with Werner adding that he had obliged Ruker to pay an annual tribute of two denarii for the rest of his life, something to which Ruker had agreed.

60. Concerning the man with skewed eyes who was healed Henric of Koblenz in the diocese of Trier, who was fifteen years of age, said under oath that from the previous Pentecost until the Feast of St. Remigius105 his eyes had been skewed so that one of his eyes was very high and the other very low. His mouth was also distorted and he had a large wound on his back. He made a vow to Lady Elizabeth and, when he was on the road heading back home, he suddenly received his health. Cunrad, Walther, Wicmud, and Guta from the same city said under oath that they had seen the youth with his eyes and mouth distorted in this way and then, after his return, they saw him healthy.

61. Concerning the lame boy who was cured Cunrad of Orleshausen said under oath that his son Wigand, who was still a boy, had been weak in one leg for a period of two years. That leg had become shorter than the other one from the knee down—ultimately a whole palm’s width shorter—and the knee became very stiff to the point that he was not able to extend it. After Cunrad had invoked the grace and assistance of the lady landgravine, vowing that he would present his son to her tomb, the boy began to regain his health and within three weeks was rendered completely healthy. This happened right after the harvest. And we saw the boy healthy, the same boy whose death the father, despairing that his son would ever be healthy again, had often hoped would come. Gisler, Heinric of Daden, Ditric, Hermann, Wicker, and Ludwic, all from Orleshausen, concurred under oath with the boy’s father.

105. That is, from May 30 to October 1, 1232.

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62. Concerning the cripple who was healed Heinric, a knight of Daden in the diocese of Trier, said under oath that Arnolf was crippled in one leg so that he was not even able to sit in an upright manner. He supported himself with specially fashioned crutches, without which he was unable to get around except by crawling, which is what he did in his own house. He remained this way for about a year. On the last Feast of St. Michael,106 he made his way to the tomb of the lady landgravine and, after invoking the grace of God and Elizabeth’s assistance, he was restored to health and returned home without crutches. He was about fifty years of age and came from in a parish which is called Morsbach. The knights Ditric and Wilhelm, as well as Roric, Gotfrid, Wipert, Gerhard, Heinric, Wezzel, another Gerhard, Theodric, Gerdrud, and Sophia from Daden concurred with Heinric about the malady, its timing, and the other circumstances.

63. Concerning the lame and mute girl who was healed Helwic of Friedberg in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that he had a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter by the name of Adelheid who could neither walk nor speak. On the Saturday before the anniversary of the death of the lady landgravine,107 the father of the girl, who suffered along with her, prayed, saying: “Holy and merciful lady, help me, so that my daughter may receive the power to walk and speak, and I will bring her to you and make offerings on her behalf.” Adelheid, the sister of the man, said under oath that she had seen the girl in that state and, that, picking up a walking stick, had given it to her, saying: “Get yourself ready: it is time for you to go to the holy lady.” After taking the stick, the girl immediately began to speak and walk. She did this on the Sunday after the Feast of St. Martin.108 Accechin of Friedberg, the husband of Adelheid, said that he had provided lodging for the girl because he was her godfather. He confirmed that she was a girl of three and a half years who had been unable to walk or to speak since she was born. Asked at whose invocation she had been healed, he said that he did not know. He said that on the Sunday after the Feast of blessed Martin he went to hear Brother Daniel preach in the village of Weisel, which was located a mile from his home. When he had left home, the girl had been unable to walk or speak, but when he returned later that same day, he found her walking and 106. September 29, 1232. 107. Elizabeth died sometime during the night separating November 16 and 17. The Saturday prior to the first anniversary of her death would have fallen on November 13, 1232. 108. St. Martin’s feast day is celebrated on November 11. In 1232, the Sunday following St. Martin’s Day would have been November 14.

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talking. Asked when he had met him109 he responded that he met him more than six months before. Mahthild of Friedberg, a neighbor of Accechin, agreed under oath with him about all of this.

64. Concerning the humpbacked, crippled child with a scrofula who was cured Albert Swende of Limburg in the diocese of Trier said under oath that he had a two-year-old son who had a hump on his back as well as a scrofula and who was crippled, his legs having grown together. Albert, along with the boy’s mother, made a vow to carry the boy to the tomb of the landgravine and to begin making an annual tribute of two denarii. Once he had been taken to the tomb, the boy’s legs were released and he began to walk. He was also freed from the hump and the scrofula. This happened around the last Feast of the Passion of the Lord.110 Guntram, Heinric, and Albero, brothers from Neesbach; Arnold and Ditric, brothers from Limburg; and Sifrid and Sibold, brothers from Molsberg, agreed, under oath, with Albert, in that they had seen the boy sick in this manner before the Passion of the Lord and then saw him cured after the Passion of the Lord. And we saw indications of these maladies.

65. Concerning the lame boy who was healed Irmendrud of Essershausen in the diocese of Trier said under oath that Hartung, her little three-and-a-half-year-old grandson, had never been able to walk. Hearing about the miracles of Lady Elizabeth, she vowed to take the boy to the sepulchre. She arranged for a candle that was as long as the boy to be taken to the shrine and he began to walk without any difficulty even before the person who had been sent to the shrine had returned. Asked how it was that the boy had been unable to walk, she said that she did not know for sure, but believed that it was the result of some infirmity, because although he had wellformed limbs, his legs were very small. Hildegund from the same village concurred under oath with the previous testimony, with the exception that she knew nothing of the vow nor of the candle being sent beyond what others had reported to her.

109. Presumably a reference to Brother Daniel, though the relevance of this question to the proceedings is not clear. Brother Daniel is likely to have been a Franciscan. 110. That is, Passion Sunday, the fifth Sunday of Lent, the one preceding Palm Sunday. In 1232, Passion Sunday was March 28.

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Methild from the same place agreed under oath with Irmendrud, adding that she was present when Irmendrud gave the candle to a woman to take to the sepulchre. Dietmud from the same village concurred under oath about the boy’s age, his condition, the candle being sent, and the cure. She added also that she was present when the boy began to walk and that, after first asking for crutches, he said: “Holy Elizabeth, help me, so that I might walk.” Because we had not spoken with the boy’s grandmother about the wording of her invocation on the first occasion, we recalled her and she said under oath that this was all so. Both of them added that, after a while, he put the crutches aside and began to walk unimpeded. Arnold, the uncle of the boy, agreed with everything that the boy’s grandmother and Diemud had said. Guntram from the same village said under oath that he had seen the boy at three and a half years of age being unable to walk and then later saw him healthy. Concerning the other circumstances, he said that he knew nothing except what others had told him. Hermann from the same place said the same under oath.

66. Concerning the humpbacked girl who was cured Hermann of Brügge in the diocese of Cologne, said under oath that his sevenyear-old daughter Cristina had a hump on her chest and one on her back for approximately two years. Moreover her upper lip111 had grown out the width of three fingers over her mouth, a deformity that she suffered for three and a half years. Beyond this her face was so swollen that her eyes could not be seen. The same swelling occurred in her legs and feet to the point that she had been unable to walk for two years. Asked whom she had as witnesses to this infirmity, she named for us a miller in Marburg named Ditmar, along with his wife and family. When summoned, they all concurred about the swelling. The miller, who was responsible for the offering, spoke about the hump, adding that he had held the girl in his own arms. The masters of the hospital, Hermann and Albert, were called in to testify and they said individually and under oath that they had seen the girl swollen and so sick that they thought she was about to die. One of them, that is Albert, concurred with the father about the hump on her back. The father of the girl, when asked about the day on which this miracle occurred, said that his daughter was cured on the last Feast of the Lord’s

111. Even though the text reads superius labium, which would mean “the uppermost one of her defects,” it makes more sense, given the context, to treat this as poorly declined reference to a protruding upper “lip” (labea or labia).

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Supper112 at about midday. When asked about the month, he said that he was not able to say which one it was. When asked about the place, he said: “On top of the sepulchre.” When asked upon whose invocation, he said: “Upon the invocation of Lady Elizabeth.” When asked with what words she had been invoked, he said: “Sweet holy Lady Elizabeth, either take this girl from this world or heal her.” He added that he rubbed her entire body with dirt from the sepulchre and hung some of the dirt from her neck. Iremgard, the mother of the girl, said under oath everything, point by point, that the father had said. All of the other witnesses, when asked when they had seen the girl sick and when they had seen her well, responded individually that they had seen her sick on the Feast of the Lord’s Supper of the present year—that is, in the year 1232—and then saw her healthy and walking the following day. Crafto, a priest at the hospital, said under oath that he had seen the girl so swollen that it disgusted him to look at her face. That was on the Feast of the Lord’s Supper. The following day she was healthy. At the time of the examination,113 I, Master Conrad of Marburg, preacher, saw her sick in this manner and then, on Easter Day, saw her healthy.

67. Concerning the woman with dropsy who was cured Adelheid, a canoness at Böddeken114 in the diocese of Paderborn, said under oath that she had been afflicted with dropsy for forty-eight weeks and that for practically that entire time she had been bedridden. She was so swollen in her abdomen, face, and limbs, that the veins and joints of her hands and feet were not visible. At the beginning of the present year, she learned about Lady Elizabeth’s reputation for miracles and began invoking her on Laetare Jerusalem Sunday.115 She asked for her health from the Lord on behalf of the merits of Elizabeth’s holy soul, and immediately she began to get some relief, purged by perspiration that was both prodigious—seventeen pieces of cloth that were placed next to her became wet—and disgusting. Moreover the same type of fluid poured forth in great quantity from her ears. Around the Feast of the blessed Boniface,116 she was taken by carriage to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth and was restored to her full health. Her skin had been dark117 all over

112. April 8, 1232. It is odd that the commissioners would then ask for the month of the cure, having just determined that it occurred the previous Maundy Thursday. 113. It is not clear what Conrad meant by tempore examinationis. Certainly not the time of the interview, since the girl had already been healed by then. 114. The Augustinian monastery of Böddeken near Büren in Westfalen. 115. The fourth Sunday of Lent—in this case, March 21, 1232—named for the beginning words of the introit assigned to that day. 116. June 5, 1232. 117. The text refers to her cutem nigram. Compare the use of “black” elsewhere to refer to the skin color of the drowning victims.

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when she left for the shrine, but by the time she came back, her natural color had returned. And we ourselves saw her completely healthy. Alboldo, the priest in that place, who was both the parish priest and this lady’s confessor, said under oath that he had seen her sick for a year less four weeks. Half of the time she did not even come to the choir.118 He had seen her swollen in the face, hands, and feet, and dark all over her body, but then he saw her restored to her natural color upon her return from the sepulchre of the landgravine. Each time that he had administered the body of the Lord to her, sick in bed, he did not believe that she would survive another day. As she was leaving for the tomb, an expert physician diagnosed her as suffering from terminal dropsy, yet saw her, upon her return, in her former healthy state. He did not, however, remember the exact day. Ulgard, who was Adelheid’s handmaid for three years, concurred under oath with the priest as to the appearance of the illness, its duration, the darkness of the body, and all the other circumstances, adding that when her turgid limbs were touched, they emitted a certain hissing sound. Andreas, Adelheid’s sister’s husband, and Rutger, the son of her brother— both of whom had been with her often, and one of whom, that is, Andreas, had taken her to the sepulchre of the lady landgravine—Wilhelm of Wevelsburg, Heinric of Borglere, Walther of Böddeken, Conrad of Altenböddeken, Ditmar of Horrichehusen, and Gertrud of Böddeken—all of whom were from the same village as the one who was cured or from one nearby—all concurred under oath with everything the priest had said, asserting it all with determination and integrity. Andreas, the brother-in-law, added that when Adelheid was nearing the sepulchre, a half mile away, she got out of the carriage and proceeded with fortitude to the sepulchre and then back to the carriage. There were many others from the same village who came wanting to testify but we deemed the previously recorded testimony to be sufficient.

68. Concerning the lame girl who was cured Theoderic and his wife Gerthrud of Wiesbaden in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that Juta, their four-year-old daughter, had been unable to walk since she was a baby.119 They made a vow to come to the church of Lady Elizabeth with offerings and, during the week before Rogation of the present year,120 when they were on their way to the sepulchre in accordance with their vow, the girl received her health. Asked whether this same daughter had any other infirmity, they said no, but that all the limbs of her body had become weak and

118. The word used here is chorum. 119. Ab infantia. 120. May 9–15, 1232. See note 67.

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that she would eat only dirt, pieces of coal, and badly burned bread in small quantities. Asked whether she had been cured of this, they responded that she had been cured of both of her problems at the same time and henceforth ate all kinds of food. We who heard this testimony also received a letter from a parish priest in Wiesbaden that contained the following: “To lord Master Conrad of Marburg, venerable in Christ, and preacher of the word of God, H., a humble parish priest of Wiesbaden contributes the following as his offering, prepared with great devotion. Blessed God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ deigned to cure, through the merits of blessed Elizabeth, the former landgravine, in the presence of the bearer of this letter, the daughter of Gerthrud, that is to say, Juta, whom I formerly baptized, lame from birth and in the habit of consuming virtually nothing except dirt and pieces of coal. Once her father and mother had made a vow on the girl’s behalf, she was cured in Linden before they even arrived in Marburg. Other witnesses who saw this same girl include: Ortwin and his wife Jutta, in whose house the girl was born; Heinric and his wife Alhaid; Gerhard the tailor and his wife Jutta; Bolzichen; Helpert and his wife Liepheid, and many more of my parishioners in Wiesbaden.”

69. Concerning the lame man who was cured Wigand of Grünberg in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about his illness and the manner of his cure, said under oath that when he was approximately twenty years old he became crippled in one leg. He remained like that for a whole year. Making his way to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth with great difficulty—it took him five weeks to cover the twenty miles to the sepulchre—he was finally liberated from his condition, the tightness of his tendons and veins having been fully relaxed. He got up and left the sepulchre, praising God and walking normally. Irmengard, a custos at the sepulchre, said under oath that she had seen him come to the sepulchre lame and then saw him healthy. Hermann, a custos of the hospital, along with Walther, the master of construction of the church in Marburg, and Wigand, all said under oath that they had seen him lame before he came to the tomb and then healthy after he left it. He said that he was cured on the last Feast of St. Urban.121

70. Concerning the twisted and humpbacked youth who was cured Alheid of Alsfeld in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about her son Cunrad’s illness and the manner of his cure, said under oath that when he was thirteen

121. May 25, 1232. It is not clear which of these three witnesses provided this last bit of information.

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years old, he began to grow ill and his legs began to weaken. They also began to twist together like the strands of a rope and even when they were pulled apart from each other, they would go back they way they were before. Moreover his neck was twisted so that the upper part faced toward his chest and the lower part toward his back. He also had a hump on his back and two bones were beginning to stick out from his thigh. In this condition, the youth spent eleven weeks at the sepulchre of the Lady Elizabeth to no avail. Finally, after many other people had been cured there, his mother said: “How can I have any confidence in these reports of cures when, after having been here for such a long time, no such grace has been done for me and my son?” Finally, on the day of the Feast of the blessed Martin,122 while Master Conrad was sowing the word of life123 not far from the place where the landgravine Elizabeth was buried, the youth began to move one of his legs, separate it from the other, and extend it while still lying in his cart. After being taken home, he stretched out the other one in a similar fashion. Two days later he got up and discovered that he had straightened out and healed to the point that his deformity was hardly noticeable anymore. Irmendrud, the wife of the master of the hospital; Irmengard, a custos of the sepulchre; Walter, a quarryman; Hermann, the master of the hospital, and Crafto, a priest of the hospital, said under oath that they had seen the youth on the grounds of the hospital monstrously and horribly deformed in this manner and then later saw him healthy, just as has been recorded. Crafto the priest added that within the walls of the hospital he had given the youth communion while he was still suffering from this infirmity.

71. Concerning the girl who was relieved of the pea that she had stuck in her ear Gertrude of Marburg in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the infirmity and the cure of her daughter, Mahtild, said under oath that when her daughter was about three years old, she stuck a pea in her ear, which proved impossible to remove by any means. So it remained in her ear for fifteen and a half years, though people frequently tried to get it out using instruments made of wood and metal. The girl was greatly bothered by the pea and the attempts to remove it. Whenever she saw anyone approaching her, she would recoil, wanting to run away, figuring that someone wanted to try something else with regard to her ear. After the Lord had worked so many miracles in testimony to the sanctity of the body of the lady landgravine, Gertrude begged God repeatedly and most earnestly—finally even getting down on her bare knees—for the health of her daughter. With her daughter there in Elizabeth’s presence, she told her 122. November 11, 1232. 123. That is, he was preaching.

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brother to try to get the pea out using a reed. As he was preparing to do so, he looked into the ear and, overjoyed, said to his tearful mother: “Do not weep, good mother, for the pea just rolled out of the ear to me.” This happened before he had even inserted the reed into the ear. And it happened in a most amazing way, because over the years the skin had grown up around the pea so that it had become almost invisible to anyone looking into the ear. Mahtild, this same girl, and Heinric, her brother, concurred under oath with everything that their mother had said. Mahtild, Berhta, Lugard, and Irmendrud of Marburg had seen the pea stuck in the ear and then afterward they saw the girl healthy, and they said so under oath.

72. Concerning the bent and humpbacked boy who was cured Hilbert of Marburg in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about Hertig’s124 infirmity and cure, said under oath that Hertig had, at one time, for a period of five years, trembled on account of the Lord.125 He began to bend over and from about his ninth year went about practically prone. A hump the size of a big pot grew on his back so that in the end he could only support himself on his hands and knees. When this condition had lasted a year and a half, his foster father Heinric had him brought to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth and, as soon as he made his offerings, he began to feel better. Within seven weeks, he was fully restored to health. Heinric, Arnold, Isendrud, Gerdrud, and Behrta of Marburg concurred under oath with Hilbert about the malady and its subsequent cure, but none of them saw the boy taken to the sepulchre except Heinric.

73. Concerning the woman who was swollen and aff licted with dropsy who was cured Lismud of Marburg in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about her illness and cure, said under oath that she had become swollen in the abdomen, legs, and feet and figured that she had dropsy. Later she began to get desperate and made a vow saying: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, I will always be your servant and I will come to your sepulchre. I will make offerings including a wax image of myself and a candle made in my image and another that is as long as I am around so that, with the influence of your prayers, I will be restored to health and go forth cured.” No sooner was the vow made than she was healed and the

124. Uncharacteristically, there is no indication of the relationship between the main witness and the beneficiary of the cure. 125. The Latin reads propter Dominum paverat. The verb pasco (to feed) also yields this pluperfect form, but makes even less sense at face value.

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swelling in her abdomen, legs, and feet went away. Asked about the timing of the cure, she said that it happened last Laetare Sunday.126 Ditmar, Lismud’s husband, said under oath that at the time the vow was made he was away and was despairing of her life. Unaware that she intended to make such a vow, he himself implored Lady Elizabeth for grace on her behalf and vowed that he would take her to the sepulchre with offerings if she were cured as a result of his entreaties. Returning home, he found her completely cured. Her brother Heinric, as well as Cunrad, Chunegund, and Hiltegund of Marburg, agreed under oath with the husband with regard to everything, with the exception of the vow, which they had not heard.

74. Concerning the boy whose nose was cured Mehthild of Marburg in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about her son Angel’s infirmity and the manner of its cure, said under oath that the boy’s nose stuck out toward his right eye and that a certain fluid, which had been flowing unnaturally from his eye for two years, had greatly depressed and inverted the lower eyelid resulting in the eye being horribly deformed. The boy lived like that for two years. For the sake of his health, the mother committed herself to paying an annual tribute of two denarii for the rest of her life to the lady landgravine Elizabeth. Once she made the vow, the boy was immediately—that is, within eight days—restored to perfect health. That happened last Easter week.127 This boy concurred under oath with what his mother said but had not heard the vow being made. Bertha, Gerdrud, and Hermann said under oath that for the two years before last Easter they had seen the boy in that condition, but after that, they saw him healthy.

75. Concerning the fracture that was cured Heinric of Hausen in the diocese of Trier, when asked about his malady and the manner of his cure, responded under oath that he fell from a high tower and broke his spine in three places. He also broke in two places the bone that sticks out from the chest above the stomach,128 as well as one of his legs. He remained in great pain and anguish for three weeks. Since he could not tolerate being touched or turned, he had to be girded with straps. He made a vow, saying: “Secure for me my health, holy lady, and I will visit your sepulchre with offerings.” Since he was unable to go there himself, he sent one candle that

126. March 21, 1232. 127. April 11–18, 1232. 128. The sternum.

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was long enough to go around him and two that were as tall as he was to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth. Once the offering had been sent, he immediately began to get his strength back, to the point that he even began to walk with the help of crutches. He said that it was on the Feast of St. Michael129 that he sent the offerings to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth and began to get better. On the octave of Epiphany130 he came to the sepulchre in person, healthy in his leg, chest, and back. And we saw and examined the signs and vestiges of his injuries. Otilia, his wife, concurred under oath with him about all of this. Hermann and Hertig from the same village concurred under oath with him.

76. Concerning the blind woman who was given sight Eilwip of Limburg in the diocese of Trier, when asked about her infirmity and the manner of its cure, responded under oath that for an entire year she had been blind to the point that she was not even able to discern daylight. So she made a vow, saying: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, I commend myself to your grace. I will visit your tomb every year and will offer two wax images of eyes.” Having no one to take her there, she happened to come upon three women who led her to the sepulchre. There, once the mercy of Lady Elizabeth had been invoked and the images of eyes offered, she received the vision in one eye, with which she could make out the wax images that hung over the sepulchre and the gilded pictures that had been made on the curtains. She returned home but the other eye began to trouble her so much that in her anguish she called out: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, why are you leaving me before I am fully cured?”131 The following night the lady appeared to her, saying: “When you approach the altar, fan your eyes over the body 132 and you will receive your health.” The woman did what she was told to do and not only did the pain stop immediately but from then on she could see quite well with the previously blind eye. Hainric of Marburg in the diocese of Mainz, and Guta of Limburg in the diocese of Trier said under oath that they had seen Eilwip blind over a seven-year period and then they saw her healthy after her return from the sepulchre.

77. Concerning the epileptic who was cured Juta of Connefeld in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about her infirmity and the manner of her cure, responded that she had suffered from epilepsy

129. September 29, 1232. 130. January 13, 1233. 131. Quare meate recedere. 132. Fac de corporali tuos oculos ventilari.

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continuously for seven years, with spells occurring as many as six times in one day. When she was about fifteen years old, she made a vow, saying: “Holy Elizabeth, free me and I will visit your sepulchre with offerings every year for the rest of my life.” On the Saturday after the most recent Feast of St. Michael,133 she went to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth. There she poured out her prayers to God, offered some denarii, and left. She was never again bothered by that disease. Bernger and Gotschalc of Connefeld said under oath that they had seen Juta at the indicated time sick in this fashion and then healthy after her return from the sepulchre.

78. Concerning the humpbacked boy who was cured Isaac of Buseck in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the illness of his son and the manner of his cure, said under oath that this same boy had begun to grow ill as he approached his fourth year: his legs began to weaken, his hands began to bend back over themselves, he grew a hump on his back, and a layer of skin grew over his eyes so that he could not see even in the light of day. He remained blind, crippled, and humpbacked up to his eighth year. The boy’s father made a vow, saying: “Holy Elizabeth, I will take him to your tomb and he will always be in your service.” Wednesday of Easter week134 he led the boy to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth and placed him on the tomb. There he opened his eyes and examined a picture near the altar. All at once the flesh began to be restored around his buttocks and legs, the tension in his tendons and veins was released, and the hump began to get smaller, to the point that he was regarded as quite healthy, walking well and going about totally upright with no hump. Berhta, the stepmother of the boy, Winand, and Wigand from Buseck said under oath that they had seen the boy sick at the indicated time and then again healthy after his return from the tomb.

79. Concerning the lame boy with fistulas who was cured Gertrud of Reitzenhagen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that her nineyear-old son Johann had suffered from fistulas on both of his feet for four years and that his legs had grown so weak that he had become a cripple, unable to go anywhere without a cane. She and three widows vowed on her son’s behalf that he would go every single year to the church of Lady Elizabeth and give three denarii. They also vowed to take the boy there. When they had done this, the

133. In 1232, that would have been October 2. 134. April 14, 1232.

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boy got better. Asked when she had made her vow, Gertrud said: “On Easter.”135 Asked when the vow was fulfilled, she responded: “On Pentecost.”136 Asked when the boy had recovered, she responded: “After we returned home.” Asked how, she said that up until the Feast of St. Michael he did his best to get around without his walking stick. After that date, he disposed of it altogether, since he was totally healed and could go about wherever he pleased quickly without any impediment at all. Heinric, Dietmar, and Wigand from the same village said under oath that they had been acquainted with the boy for four years, during which time they had seen him afflicted in the manner described. They said that they had also witnessed him getting better and concurred with the mother as to when his health was restored. The father of the boy agreed with the mother, adding that he was the one who asked the widows to make the vow along with the mother on behalf of the boy.

80. Concerning the insane boy who was healed Gertrud of Schmaleichen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that when her son Heinric—now four and a half years old—was almost two, she began to notice that he suffered from epilepsy.137 When an attack came upon him, his eyes would roll back and, falling on the ground, he would close his fingers and press them hard into his palms. He would then roll around on the ground, pounding it with his feet, and twist a great deal around his midsection. It was almost impossible to restrain him. He had this illness for two years. During the last year of the illness, he would frequently fall, foam at the mouth, and contort himself. In the space of a single day he would be aff licted like this four times. Asked how her son had been cured, she said that immediately after the first miracles associated with Elizabeth’s shrine had begun to occur—indeed, only two miracles preceded his—Gertrud approached two widows from her village, figuring them to be holier than she was, and asked them to make a vow on behalf of the boy to the effect that he would come every year to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth with an offering of one denarius and two candles, one of which was to be as tall as he was and the other long enough to wrap around his body. After this had been done, Gertrud said that neither the illness nor any signs of the illness were ever seen again. Asked how much time had passed since then, she answered, “one year.”

135. April 11, 1232. 136. May 30, 1232. 137. Caducus morbus. The title of this deposition describes the boy as furiosus, which would normally mean insane.

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Alhaid from the same village said under oath that she was often summoned on account of the boy’s illness. She would find him lying there on the ground pressing his fingers into his hands, just as was said, with his eyes open and fixed. Asked if she had seen him falling or foaming at the mouth, she said that she had not. Asked how she knew that the boy was healed, she responded that for the last year she had neither seen nor heard of him being sick. Bertrad, the mother’s handmaid, who had been living in the same village for the last seven years, and the boy’s father concurred with the mother concerning all of these details.

81. Concerning the epileptic girl who was cured Gertrud of Seelbach in the diocese of Trier said under oath that her fourteenyear-old daughter, Hiltegund, suffered for more than a year from epilepsy,138 which struck at one- or two-week intervals. During one of her fits she even fell into a fire. We who are hearing this testimony saw scars and other indications of burns on her shoulder and arm. Asked how her daughter behaved during one of these spells, Gertrud responded that sometimes her eyes were open and fixed; other times they were closed. She said that her daughter would roll on the ground and thrash about with all her limbs, clenching her fists and biting her tongue. Even when the spell had past, she was barely able to speak. Asked about the duration of the fits, she responded that they lasted as long as it took to sing two consecutive masses. Asked how she recovered, she responded that during the previous Lent she had heard that a certain woman who suffered from a similar illness had been cured upon invoking Lady Elizabeth. So she immediately made a vow that every year she would send a denarius to Elizabeth’s church and that she would come with her daughter as soon as she was able to do so. In the meantime the young girl suffered one attack at about the time of Rogation.139 On Pentecost140 the mother came to fulfill her vow and from then on she was unable to detect any indication of this illness in her daughter. Heinric, the brother of the girl, concurred under oath with the mother concerning all of this, adding that he had often wept during his sister’s spells. Dietric from the same village said under oath that he had often seen her suffering from the disease. Asked how they knew that it was this disease, Benigna responded: “I recognized it because my brother suffered from the same illness up until the time that he died.”

138. Caducus morbus. 139. May 18–20, 1232. See note 67. 140. May 30, 1232.

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82. Concerning the lame boy with fistulas who was cured Frideric of Gelnhausen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that his twelve-year-old son’s141 back appeared to have been broken in such a way that he was left humpbacked with his neck so strangely twisted against the hump that Frideric himself often thought of his son as a monster and abhorred him. The boy had feet that were so twisted that the toes were turned under toward the soles. His hands were similarly crippled. He had to carry things with his mouth since he supported himself with his hands when he crawled. His legs were drawn up as if he were tight in his hips and his knees adhered to his abdomen. One of his eyes stuck out a great deal while the other was deeply recessed. Parts of his mouth were distorted in an abominable way. He also had fistulas on his feet, his thighs, and his legs; in fact they had broken out in thirty-four different places on his body. He lay in bed in this condition for five years. For the next two years he was able to feed himself, sometimes with one hand and sometimes with the other, but he remained distorted in all the previously mentioned parts of his body just as before. During Pentecost, the one just passed, while the fame of Lady Elizabeth was spreading, Frideric’s wife, the mother of the boy, called out many times, saying: “Sweet lady, pious Lady Elizabeth, make me today a partner in your merits and grace, which you earned in the presence of God while still living in this world, and let me rejoice in my son,142 whose aff lictions and miseries have so often troubled me. In return I will give you my son and I will make offerings to you so that for your sake the Lord will perform an act of grace for me on his behalf.” Once the vow was made, she went to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth and, upon returning, found her son crawling—something that he had not been able to do before143 —his legs and knees having relaxed. This happened around the time of the Feast of blessed Lawrence.144 At that time the boy was able to hold himself up with a walking stick, while dragging his left leg just like before. After the Feast of St. Martin,145 on the first anniversary of the death of Lady Elizabeth,146 the boy’s mother went to Elizabeth’s sepulchre again for the sake of her son’s health and when she returned, she saw the boy running toward her, having thrown the stick aside, saying: “Never will I carry it again!” He was fully healed: his feet, his hands, his neck, his legs, his eyes, and his mouth; only his hump remained and even that had gotten smaller. We, who heard the testimony, saw signs of the fistulas that had broken out all over his

141. Uncharacteristically, the boy’s name is not recorded. 142. Exilera me in filio meo. 143. This would seem to contradict the testimony that says the boy carried things in his mouth as he crawled. 144. August 10, 1232. 145. November 11, 1232. 146. November 16, 1232.

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body. Moreover scars were clearly visible where his knees had adhered to his abdomen and where his feet were distorted and inverted; but these were only marks on a now healthy boy. The noble matron Mehthild, the wife of the nobleman Gerlac from Bidingen and the daughter of the count of Cigenhagen, said under oath that for more than four years she had known this boy to be crippled in that way with his neck twisted. She had not inspected the places where the oozing fistulas had been but she had often seen the boy placed in her presence on her way to and from church. She had never seen him crawl or walk at all except after the last Feast of Simon and Jude.147 At that time she saw him fully cured, though he still had a hump. Mehthild’s daughter Liugard of Trimberg concurred with her. Cristina and Reinlind, her servants, as well as two men named Gerthrud, Pertrissa, Aleid, and Uda of Gelnhausen concurred with these two under oath. Frideric, a knight of Gelnhausen, Helwic of Elsepe, Wigand of Gelnhausen, Reinbold, Theoderic, Herbord, and Wortwinn of Gelnhausen all agreed under oath with the ladies. Hermann, the boy’s uncle, said under oath that he had seen the places where the boy had been afflicted with fistulas.

83. Concerning the girl who was cured of a f low of blood Cunrad of Marburg of the diocese of Mainz said under oath that his twelveyear-old daughter Bertha had suffered a serious flow of blood from her buttocks148 every month for two years; specifically, for one week each month as the moon waned. Her father and mother made a vow and took the girl to the sepulchre of happy Elizabeth with offerings, invoking her intercession and obligating themselves to the payment of a yearly tribute of one denarius. Asked what words he had used to make the vow, he responded: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, heal our daughter so that we do not have to suffer so much grief on account of her.” Asked when they had visited the sepulchre, he responded: “After the Paschal Feast,”149 though he did not know the precise day. He added that ever since he made the offering over the tomb, he had observed that the girl was free of this malady. Bertha’s mother Hiltegund asserted under oath that all of what was said before was true and added that when the girl was still suffering from the flow of blood, she had watched over her every day thinking that she was about to die.

147. October 28. The timing is a bit off here, since according to Frideric’s testimony, the boy was not healed until mid-November. 148. The text reads per nates, but the f low of blood in this case would appear to be menstrual. 149. That is, after April 11, 1232.

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Hainric and Hiltegund of Marburg said under oath that they had frequently seen the girl suffering in this way but not since the time of the vow.

84. Concerning the blind woman who was given sight Mahthild of Biedenkopf in the diocese of Mainz, fifty years of age, said under oath that for three years she had been totally blind in her left eye. Hearing about the miracles that the Lord had been working repeatedly through the merits of blessed Elizabeth, she made a vow and went, bringing offerings, to the threshold of the church where the holy lady Elizabeth rested. There, offering a little something in accordance with her means, she humbly begged Lady Elizabeth that, through her merits, the Lord restore her sight. All at once she was given sight in the blind eye. But then her other eye, that is to say, the right one, the one with which she had been able to see, went blind! When she returned home, recounting to others the miracle that had happened to her— that she had received sight in one eye but had lost it in the other—the people laughed and she was moved to tears. She decided to go back to the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth to bear witness to the miracle that had happened to her. On the way she heard men singing in German about the tearful good-bye between Elizabeth and her husband, the landgrave Ludwig, who was about to set out for the Holy Land.150 Hearing this, Mahthild was moved to tears and, as she wept, she regained the vision in her right eye and so could see clearly with both eyes. Asked on what day she had first received sight in her left eye, she said: “On the Feast of St. Michael151 of the present year.” Asked when she had received sight in her right eye, she said: “On the vigil of the octave of Epiphany.”152 Her daughter Adilhaid, as well as Hiltegund, Hadewig, and Hellenburg from the same place, said under oath that they had often heard her complaining that she had lost the vision in one eye and they believed that she was telling the truth.

85. Concerning the blind woman who was given sight Orthrun of Beienheim in the diocese of Mainz, said under oath that for two years she had been unable to see at all; unable, that is, to discern daylight, the sun, or fire. Asked why she was unable to see, she responded: “I don’t know but some women who looked into my eyes told me that a little layer of skin had grown over the pupils of my eyes.” Asked how she had recovered her sight, she responded: “During Lent I made a vow to come to the sepulchre of holy

150. The tragic ending of the marriage between the crusading landgrave Ludwig and the holy landgravine Elizabeth provided fodder for the German Minnesang tradition very shortly after Ludwig’s death in 1227. 151. September 29, 1232. 152. January 12, 1233.

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Elizabeth, a vow that I fulfilled on Pentecost. There I humbly prayed that Lady Elizabeth restore my sight. When I was returning home, sad that I still had not received my sight, my husband said to me: ‘Don’t worry, because if you invoke her from the bottom of your heart, she is perfectly capable of curing you at home.’ ” Once Orthrun was back at home, she ceaselessly invoked Lady Elizabeth both day and night and after a short time regained her sight. Her husband Merbot, as well as Cunrad, Mengot, and Gerhard from the same village, agreed under oath with everything that the woman said about her blindness and the recovery of her sight, as well as about the time and the place of the cure.

86. Concerning the bent and mute boy who was cured Cunrad of Rechfeld in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that his five-yearold son Conrad had been healthy his first year but then sick for the last four. From his loins on down, his limbs had grown weaker so that he had to stay wherever he was put unless he crawled, which he did by pulling himself along with his hands. Moreover for that entire time he was unable to speak. Asked how the boy had recovered his health, he responded that, as he understood it from the boy’s mother, she promised to send two denarii each year to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth and all at once the boy began to get up and was able to keep himself seated upright. After a little while he began to walk and speak, not with facility, but rather the way children do when they are learning to speak; but his father could still understand him. Bertold, the brother of Cunrad, concurred under oath with the same, saying that he had been acquainted with the boy since his infancy. Cunrad, from the same place, concurred under oath with the others, saying that he had been acquainted with the boy for a year. Gerlach, from the same place, similarly concurred under oath, having been acquainted with the boy for three years.

87. Concerning the swollen and lame girl who was healed Nendewic of Hoheneiche in the diocese of Mainz said under oath with regard to his eight-year-old-daughter, Adilhaid, that last year around the Feast of St. Martin153 she began to grow ill, such that she became extremely swollen and her legs and buttocks began to grow together. After Easter154 her mother gathered eight neighbor women and entered the church, where they vowed together that she would visit the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth to make offerings on behalf of her daughter. Once this had been done, the swelling ceased 153. November 11, 1231. 154. April 11, 1232.

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immediately and the girls’ legs began to return to normal, to the point that she could once again walk on them with the help of crutches, though she was bent over almost as low as her knees. He added that one Sunday, when she had been taken to play with some other girls, after a while she rose without her crutches and returned home, while the other children rejoiced on her behalf. Thus she seemed to have recovered fully. Asked how long she had used crutches to help her walk, he responded: “Only for three days after the visit to the sepulchre.” Cunrad, a parish priest from the same village, said under oath that the mother had shared everything with him that the father had said in our presence, adding that he was acquainted with the girl and had seen her sick but now knew her to be well. Volcnand and Heinric, judges from this village, concurred with the father in everything except that they did not know who had taken the vow on behalf of the girl.

88. Concerning the girl who was blind in one eye and was healed Ulewic of Pohl-Gäns in the diocese of Trier said under oath that Mahtild his daughter, who was approximately nine years old, had a spot in one of her eyes that prevented her from seeing with that eye for seven years. Asked on whose invocation she had regained the vision in that eye, he responded, that it was upon his invocation of blessed Elizabeth, to whom he had said: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, help my daughter and I will always serve you and personally bring offerings to you.” Asked when it was that his daughter had received her sight, he responded that he had made the vow around the Feast of St. Martin155 and then had immediately set out for the sepulchre. On the fourteenth day of the month, he visited the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth.156 Having thus fulfilled the vow, he returned home and found that his daughter’s vision was good, there being no more spot in her eye. Rudolf and Heinric of the same village concurred under oath with the father concerning the spot in the eye, the father’s vow, the healing, and the time of the year. They were both present and witnessed these things.

89. Concerning the wounded and crippled woman who was healed Sophia of Koblenz in the diocese of Trier, being thirty years of age, said under oath that a pig had wounded her so badly in her knee that she was confined to her bed for eleven weeks. Once the wound had healed, her leg contracted to the point that she was unable to walk except with crutches. She went about

155. November 11, 1232. 156. The author uses iterum here, but it is hard to imagine how the man could have taken two trips to Marburg given the timeframe.

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this way for eight months. Making a vow, she visited the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth—despite the great difficulty of doing so on her crutches—around the Feast of the Nativity of blessed John the Baptist.157 Once there she prayed in the following way: “Holy Elizabeth, see my struggles and cure me!” Returning home, she began to get better right away, so that within fourteen days she was walking straight with no impediment. Engilbert from the same city said under oath that he had seen her sick for half a year and often carried her to the table of his lord by whose alms she was sustained, for she did not have the use of her foot. Asked when it was that he had seen her healthy, he said that he saw her immediately after her return from the shrine walking and carrying her crutches in her hands; a sight that made everyone marvel. Heinric and Theoderic from the same place concurred under oath with Engelbert, that is, they had seen her deprived of the use of one of her feet and unable to get around without crutches, but then after her return she was able to go about without any impediment.

90. Concerning the girl who was unable to walk who was healed Hermann of Breungeshain in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that Dankard and his wife, from somewhere down south, had lived with him as his guests for a year and a half. They had a five-year-old girl whose legs and feet had weakened to the point that she was unable to move from wherever she was put, whether by walking or crawling. After the last harvest, the parents went to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth with their daughter and brought her back home healthy. Hartmann and Cunrad of the same village concurred; they had seen the girl unable to walk and then saw her walking well after she and her parents returned from the sepulchre. They also agreed about the time and place.

91. Concerning the blind girl who was healed Heinric of Anzefahr in the diocese of Mainz said under oath, with regard to the infirmity and cure of his five-year-old daughter Adilheid, that she had had very cloudy eyes from the day she was born and was scarcely able to discern anything. Finally, at a year and a half, she was totally blind, unable to see the light of day. During the week of Palms,158 the one that occurred in the fifth year of the girl’s life, her grandmother and other kinswomen of hers made a vow on her behalf, that she would be taken to the sepulchre of the lady

157. June 24, 1232. 158. This might be a reference to the week before Palm Sunday (which occurred on April 4 in 1232) or perhaps to Easter week itself.

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landgravine Elizabeth along with offerings, specifically, wax images of eyes. Three days after the vow had been made—but before it had been fulfilled—the girl received her sight along with perfect clarity in her eyes. Hermann, Cunrad, and Ludewic from the same place said that they had seen the girl blind for a year and a half and having very cloudy eyes for another year before that, but afterward, they saw her healthy.

92. Concerning a man with a hernia who was healed Eckhard of Anzefahr in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about his illness and its cure, said under oath that he had jumped from a cart during the harvest season and gravely injured himself. His internal organs had been jolted out of place and descended into the sack159 —we are only repeating the words used by the witnesses—hanging down from his viscera. His sack grew to the size of two human heads and hung down to his knees. Moreover he became demented and lost his ability to speak. From dusk until midnight the neighbors rushed about, summoning the priest to administer the Last Rites and invoking the grace and assistance of the lady landgravine Elizabeth. Two ladies made a vow on his behalf, that they would go to the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth if he recovered his health. Immediately after the vow had been made, his intestines returned to their proper place and the man was healthy and up on his feet— something that he had been incapable of doing before. He also began to speak again, saying: “I am saved!” The following morning he got up and attended to his usual tasks.

93. Concerning the crippled and humpbacked girl who was cured Mahthild Zaffa160 of the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the illness of her daughter Gertrut and the manner of her cure, responded under oath that when she was fifteen weeks old, her back began to curve inward. On her front as well as on her back a kind of hump grew. She also remained mute up to the time she turned three and had a kind of growth protruding from both of her arms. The mother made a vow, saying: “Lord, on the basis of the merits of holy Elizabeth, deign to heal my daughter and I will take her to Elizabeth’s tomb and offer a wax image and a denarius. May she accept an offering on my daughter’s behalf every year of her life.” She fulfilled the vow by taking the girl to the sepulchre and as soon as they returned the girl began to speak. Her chest and back were cured and the growths on her arms shrank until they were completely gone.

159. Bursam. The author is referring, no doubt, to the man’s scrotum. Hence the embarrassment evident on the part of the scribe. 160. Huyskens has intrepreted Zaffa to be part of the woman’s name rather than the name of her village. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 229.

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Asked when the grace of this healing had begun, she responded that it was during Pentecost.161 Albert, the father of the boy, and Elwin, the brother of the same, concurred under oath with everything that the mother had said.

94. Concerning the woman who was cured of cancer Bertha of Biedenkopf in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about her illness and the manner of its cure, responded under oath that she had suffered a continuous erosion of the flesh—an erosion that could be considered a cancer— between her eyes for ten years. When no remedy proved capable of curing her of this malady, she vowed to search for a cure at the tomb of Lady Elizabeth, making an offering of a wax nose. She went on the Feast of St. Michael162 and immediately sensed that she would be cured. And indeed by Christmas she was completely cured. Cunrad, a parish priest from the same place, said under oath that he had seen her sick in this manner and then, after her return from the sepulchre, saw her healthy.

95. Concerning the youth with fistulas who was cured Heinric of Roth in the diocese of Mainz, being sixteen years of age, said under oath that he had suffered from fistulas for seven years and that as a result a great deal of pus oozed from his legs, his thighs, and his shoulders. He was weak in his legs and for that matter all over his body. As a result he was unable to perform any tasks and went about miserably and with difficulty, bent over on his crutches. After making a vow that involved offerings, he visited the sepulchre of happy Elizabeth and obligated himself to pay an annual donation of two denarii to have a mass celebrated in her honor each year. Thus he invoked her intercession. Asked with what words he had made his vow, he responded: “Holy Lady, I pray you, bestow health on me.” Asked when he had done this, he said: “On the Tuesday of the week of Pentecost in the present year.”163 He returned home on the octave of Pentecost164 sensing that he had been cured. Throwing aside his crutches, he henceforth went wherever he wanted to go. We who heard this testimony saw his scars, because he removed his clothes in our presence to show us his thighs and legs. Hermann and Heinric of Sinn in the diocese of Trier said under oath that Heinric had lost the ability to walk in his sixteenth year. They saw him healthy 161. 162. 163. June 1. 164.

May 30, 1232. September 29, 1232. In 1232 Pentecost was celebrated on May 30. The following Tuesday (third ferial) would have been June 6, 1232.

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a short time after he had made the vow to visit the tomb of holy Elizabeth and then fulfilled it. Heinric himself agreed with them. Asked when it had happened, he said that it had occurred sometime around the last harvest.

96. Concerning the girl who was blind in one eye and was cured Elyzabeth and Irmendrud of Wetzlar in the diocese of Trier said under oath, with regard to the girl Gerdrud, that one of her eyes had been all white.165 After making a vow to Lady Elizabeth, the girl received her vision on the Feast of St. Francis.166

97. Concerning the crippled boy who was healed Mergard of Marburg in the diocese of Mainz, said under oath that Ditric, her four-and-a-half-year-old son, had been well for his first three-and-a-half years but then had begun to grow ill. Around harvest time, he became increasingly bent over as if he were becoming humpbacked and his head began to turn toward one side in a deformed manner. The malady progressed to the point that, for two months, he was unable to get around except by crawling on his hands and knees. Asked when the boy had begun to walk, she said: “On the Saturday following the octave of the last Epiphany.”167 Asked upon whose invocation he had been cured, she responded: “Upon the invocation of holy Elizabeth.” She added that, taking dirt from the sepulchre a little before that Saturday, she had rubbed the boy’s body with it and it entered into his body like an unguent. From that point on the boy began to get better little by little. She added that on the most recent Feast of Simon and Jude168 she had offered to the church of Lady Elizabeth a quantity of grain, bread, wax, and incense equal in weight to that of the boy. That Saturday after the octave of Epiphany she returned home from the church around Vespers and the boy said: “See, Mother! I can walk!” And having said this, he rose and began to walk. Ditric, the boy’s father; Gotfird; Gerdrud, the boy’s sister; and Cristina, from the same village, concurred under oath with the mother about the boy’s malady and his cure.

98. Concerning the boy who was unable to walk and how he was healed Ditric, a knight from Werben in the diocese of Halberstadt, when asked about the infirmity of his son Ditric and the manner of his cure, responded under

165. 166. 167. 168.

Que in uno oculo albuginem habuit. October 4, 1232. January 15, 1233, according to Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 231. October 28, 1232.

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oath that his son had been afflicted with a certain kind of malady, the result of which was that while he was ill for three days, the flesh in his legs and hips wasted away until it vanished altogether so that from his buttocks on down, his skin seemed to be covering nothing but bones. And so he lay for a year and five months unable to walk, unable to move from wherever he was put. Asked when his son had been cured, the father replied that it was on the Saturday before “Circumderunt Sunday”169 of the present year. The father was seated at the table when his friends admonished him, unable to understand why he had not sought holy Elizabeth’s help in curing his son. He rose from the table along with his wife and they entered the church after Vespers, making the following vow: “Holy Elizabeth, heal our son and we will bring him to your sepulchre along with offerings and a wax image.” The following day, toward noon, when the boy was to be carried from one place to another,170 he lay on the ground from which he was supposed to be lifted and said: “Let me lie here, because I saw in a dream that holy Elizabeth wants to cure me now.” Having said that, he got up and immediately began to walk. Staggering, he went to meet his mother, who said: “Dearest son! Stand there and invoke holy Elizabeth!” All at once he was completely healed. Asked his age, he said that he was twelve years old. Hedewig, the mother of the boy, concurred under oath with everything the father had said. A knight named Heinric, as well as Meingot and Otto from the same village, said under oath that they had seen the boy sick on Saturday and then healthy the following day.

99. Concerning the blind girl who received sight Marpurg, a woman from Dortmund in the diocese of Cologne, when asked about the infirmity of her daughter Cristina, responded under oath that Cristina was eighteen years old and that she had been totally blind in her right eye for six years and was at that same time barely able to discern the light of day even with the left one. Since the last Feast of St. Michael171 she had become totally blind in her left eye to the point that she could no longer discern the light of day with either one. On the Feast of the Nativity of the Lord,172 when they heard that Lady Elizabeth was doing great miracles, both the mother and the daughter made a vow that they would visit the sepulchre so that the daughter would receive the grace of sight. When they had come to a certain village called Goßfelden, about a half-mile from the site of the hospital, the daughter said: “Mother, since we 169. The third Sunday before Lent. In 1233, that would have been January 29. Circumdederunt is the first word of the introit of the mass that is said on that occasion. 170. Dum puer deferri deberet ab una reminata in aliam. 171. September 29, 1232. 172. December 25, 1232.

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are people of free condition, if it be pleasing to you, when we get there, put my head on the sepulchre of Lady Elizabeth and I will offer her my perpetual service.” No sooner had she said this than she suddenly received her sight. Asked about the day on which this took place, she responded: “On the day after the Feast of the conversion of Paul173 at the ninth hour.” Cristina herself concurred with everything that her mother had said with regard to the length of time that she had been blind, the nature of the vow, and the day and hour in which she had received her sight.

100. Concerning the blind woman who received her sight Bezela of Angavia in the diocese of Liege, when asked how she had been cured in her left eye—which had been blind for seven years—responded under oath that one evening, three days after giving birth, she had just laid down on her bed, which was placed rather close to the fire, when some kind of a phantasm appeared in the form of a boy sitting in the fire. After a short time, it disappeared, but she was so terrified that she immediately lost the sight first in her left eye and then in her right one, remaining blind for the next seven years. Hearing reports of the glorious miracles that the Lord was working through Lady Elizabeth, the former landgravine, she immediately vowed that she would come to her sepulchre with offerings, that is, with two wax images of eyes and two denarii. At a convenient time, she set out with her husband, arriving on the fourth day of their journey at a castle called Holtersein, from which they planned to continue the following day. But there the layer of skin covering her eye broke open and sight was fully restored to it.174 Proceeding, they finally arrived at the sepulchre with their offerings. Asked about her age, she replied that she was almost sixty. Asked on what day she had received her sight, she responded: “On the Thursday morning before the last Feast of the Purification of Blessed Mary.”175 Eustach, her husband, agreed under oath with her about everything with the exception of the phantasm in the fire, which he had not seen. But he had heard her shouting in response to the presence or illusion of a phantasm.

101. Concerning the crippled man who was healed Herbord of Meiningen in the diocese of Würzberg, when asked about his infirmity and the manner of his cure, responded under oath that suddenly, the

173. June 26, 1233. 174. Apparently she regained the sight in only one eye. 175. The Feast of the Purification of the Virgin Mary (Candlemas) is celebrated on February 2. In 1233, the previous Thursday would have been January 27. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 234.

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previous Pentecost,176 he had became gravely ill. The tendons in his left leg began to contract so that the foot on that side curved up toward his buttocks. The flesh on this leg began to waste away and ultimately vanish so that only skin covered the bones. He was so weak from his waist down that he could not move at all and just lay there like a log. He was crippled like this from Pentecost until the Sunday after the octave of Epiphany.177 Asked how he had been healed, he responded that he made a vow using the following words: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, restore the health of this pauper and I will go to your tomb and make an offering in accordance with my ability.” The moment these words had been said, he was afflicted with great pain in his back and in the withered leg. With his leg now extended at the knee, he stood up and began to walk without any support. He added that when he, having uttered the vow, was being afflicted with this pain, the tendons in his back as well as his leg began to creak. Asked when he had been cured, he responded: “The Sunday after the octave of Epiphany.” Asked about his age, he said he was about forty years old. Asked how long he had laid there sick in this way, he responded that he had laid there without any relief from Pentecost to the previously mentioned Sunday.

102. Concerning the madman who was healed Ditmar of Hörbach of the diocese of Trier, when asked about his illness and the manner of his cure, responded under oath that he, two days before the Feast of the Circumcision of the Lord178 of the present year, was standing in the courtyard and working as a carpenter, when suddenly he fell to the ground and lost his senses, becoming completely insane. After dusk on the octave of that feast day,179 that is, on the Friday after Epiphany, he recovered his senses, having no idea what had happened to him in the meantime. Later he heard that while he was out of his mind, others had made a vow on his behalf, requiring him to present himself to the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth with offerings so that his health would be restored to him through her intervention. Gerhard from the same village, when asked about Ditmar’s infirmity and the manner of his cure, responded under oath that Ditmar had become so insane two days before the Feast of the Circumcision of the Lord that he tried to bite and tear at himself with his teeth and even attempted to kill his wife and his children, before being tied up with a rope in a river bed. Gerhard added that on the Friday after Epiphany he went to Marburg himself and there, approaching the tomb of the blessed Elizabeth, made a vow,

176. 177. 178. 179.

May 30, 1232. January 16, 1233, by Huyskens’s calculation. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 234. The feast took place on January 2. Hence the reference here is to December 31, 1232. January 9, 1233.

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saying: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, restore Ditmar, whom I have left wasting away at home, and I will bring him as well as some offerings to your sepulchre.” The next day, when Gerhard returned home, he found Ditmar there fully healed, his senses restored. When Gerhard asked Ditmar when it was that he had recovered, he realized that Ditmar was cured at the same moment that he had made the vow at the sepulchre. Asked about Ditmar’s age, he said that he was fifty years old. Witnesses who were asked at whose invocation Ditmar had been healed, responded that they heard from others that he had been cured as a result of the invocation of blessed Elizabeth. They also said that people believed that he had been possessed by a demon, because everyone who was there with him had been struck with tremendous fear. Urged on by our fear of God and compelled by an apostolic mandate, we have, cautiously and solicitously, to the full extent of our knowledge and ability, worked diligently on this matter, admitting no witnesses except those whom we determined to be suitable. In the process we uncovered many miracles, a great many more than these, but it was not possible for us to hear such a great abundance of witnesses, first of all, because of the limitations of time—all of the miracles recorded here were heard in January except three that we heard a bit later in February; second because some witnesses lived too far away in various other regions; and third because the crowd of those witnesses who were present was so great that it did not allow others easy access to us, nor could they tolerate any delay in coming before us given the lack of food, for neither the surrounding province nor the city nor the adjacent villages were able to handle the multitude that flowed in; indeed if they had not occupied the neighboring mountains and filled the forests, there would not have been enough resources to satisfy their needs. By no means discounting the many, we have decided to record a few, lest the ears of your paternity be burdened with a tedious multitude of accounts, or the crudeness of this effort to uncover the truth have the power of deflating what has already been verbally reported in your presence. Carried out in the year of the Lord 1232180 in the months of January and February. I, Conrad of Marburg, after the departure of the archbishop of Mainz and the abbot of Eberbach, to whom—in addition to myself—this examination of miracles had been committed, enlisted priests as well as other religious and prudent men for the sake of examining more miracles and accepted the following depositions.

180. The text reads 1233, because the convention at the time was to begin the new year on the first day of spring.

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103. Concerning the bloated woman who was cured Lugard of Lützellinden in the diocese of Trier, when asked about her dropsy and the manner of its cure, responded under oath that she had suffered with this disease for three years. First she lost the use of all of her limbs to the point that she was confined to her bed. At the same time her abdomen began to become hard and distended. After she had been sick like that for two years, the swelling spread throughout her entire body to the point that her eyes could barely be seen and thus she lay for a year, inflated like a big barrel. Finally, having heard of the miracles that the Lord was working through blessed Elizabeth, she made a vow, saying: “Holy Elizabeth, heal me from this infirmity, and I will go to your sepulchre barefoot and dressed in wool and offer you a candle that is as long as I am as well as other offerings according to my means.” Once this vow had been made, the fluid in her body began to burst forth, flowing like a river from her vagina and her breasts, and she was cured. Asked when she had made her vow, she responded that she had made the vow and received her cure on the Feast of St. Michael of the present year.181 Asked her age, she said that she was about fifty years of age. Irmendrud and Benigna from the same village concurred under oath with her about everything she had said with regard to the illness and the cure.

104. Concerning the swollen woman who was cured Adilhaid of Hüsten,182 when asked about her dropsy and the manner of her cure, responded under oath that, though she had never suffered any illness before, she suddenly began to swell up so much that people thought she was carrying twins in her belly. But the swelling lasted longer that it would have had she been pregnant; and she just kept getting bigger and bigger, swelling up in her face, her arms, her legs, in short, all over her body. At that point she knew she was not pregnant but instead was suffering from dropsy. Her husband consulted many doctors about her case and each one claimed that she was incurable. She suffered this disease for a year and a half and was scarcely able to walk. Asked how she came to be cured, she responded that she had made invocations and offerings to many saints but nothing had come of them. Finally a neighbor of hers, coming from the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth, asked why she did not make a vow to that holy lady, through whom the Lord had healed so many people of their illnesses. Immediately stretching herself out in the shape of a cross, she made a vow, saying: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, cure me from this disease and I will bring to your sepulchre a wax image and a

181. September 29, 1232. 182. This entry uncharacteristically does not identify the diocese.

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candle that is as long as I am.” Having said this, she began to receive her health and within fourteen days was fully cured. Winand, her husband, completely concurred with her regarding everything that she had said.

105. Concerning the blind woman who received her sight Kunegund of Ahrweiler in the diocese of Cologne, when asked about her illness and the manner of its cure, responded under oath that she had suffered pain in her eyes for three and a half years, after which she completely lost her sight, able to discern neither the light of day nor even the bright light of the sun. She remained blind, with her eyes closed as if her eyelids were fused, for four and a half years. Finally, having heard of the miracles that the Lord was working through Lady Elizabeth, she made her way to the sepulchre with offerings, and there she remained for two days. On the third day, having sensed no grace coming her way, she began to head home. Two days into her return journey, in a village called Gemünden in the diocese of Trier, she stopped at a granary and laid down there to sleep. In her dreams a most beautiful lady appeared to her and offered her an apple, saying: “Get up and eat.” And she answered: “I do not want to eat because today I am fasting on bread and water in honor of the blessed Elizabeth.” Then her eyes opened and she found that she could see clearly. Asked when she had come to the sepulchre, she responded that it was on the vigil of the Feast of St. Martin183 of the present year. On the third day after her arrival, that is to say, on Friday, she left the sepulchre and on Monday after the feast, she received her vision. Kunegund’s mother, asked how old her daughter was, said that she was twenty. This same mother, by the name of Gisila, along with her brother Ekehard and the men who had come to the sepulchre with Kunegund when she was still blind, concurred with her with regard to all the other details.

106. Concerning the humpbacked boy with a scrofula who was healed Mahthild of Odenbach in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the infirmity of her son Cunrad and the manner of his cure, said under oath that a hump had grown on his back and on his chest, a scrofula the size of a newborn’s head. He remained deformed like this for half a year. Then his legs became contracted and emaciated to the point that they completely wasted away. His knees became swollen and the soles of his feet and his legs were turned up toward his buttocks. He lay in this condition—like a monster—for a year and three weeks. Asked how he had been cured, Mahthild responded that, after

183. That is, the day before the feast, which occurs on November 11, 1232.

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hearing of the miracles that the Lord had worked through blessed Elizabeth, she made a vow on the Tuesday after the Feast of St. Remigius184 of the present year, saying: “Holy Elizabeth, secure for me the health of my son and I will offer him to you in perpetual servitude.” The morning after she made the vow, at about the hour of Vespers on the aforementioned day, the boy began to walk straight, the lump and scrofula having vanished. At the same time his legs were restored and thus he was cured in every part of his body. Asked his age, she replied that he was four years old. Ludewic, the father of the boy, concurred under oath with everything that the mother had said. Heinric, Eggehart, Hadewic, and Adilhaid, all from the same village, concurred under oath with the mother and father concerning the timeframe of the illness and its cure, as well as with the other circumstances, except that they had not heard the vow that was made.

184. The Feast of St. Remigius falls on October 1. In 1232, the following Tuesday fell on October 5.

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Miracle Depositions from the Second Papal Commission (1235)

In a letter written on October 11, 1233, Pope Gregory IX asked Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim and Abbot Hermann of Georgental to pick up where the earlier commission had left off. This led to twenty-four additional miracle depositions taken in January 1235. Here begin the miracles of happy Elizabeth, the former landgravine of Thuringia, organized in four distinct categories. The first contains those miracles verified by witnesses in the presence of Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim and Abbot Hermann of Georgenthal of the Cistercian order, in the second examination conducted with apostolic authority in Marburg in the year of the Lord 1234, on the calends of January.1 There are twenty-four miracles of the first order. It should be noted that there are 105 miracles of the second, third, and fourth orders from the earlier examination. The rubrics that follow will make it clear how they are to be received.

1. That is, January 1, 1235. The convention at the time was to begin the new year on the first day of spring.

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[Miracles of the First Order] 1. Concerning the epileptic monk of the Cistercian order who was cured by blessed Elizabeth In the region of Saxony, in a monastery of the Cistercian order called Amelungsborn2 in the diocese of Hildesheim, there was a certain monk named Heinric, a native of Roermond in the diocese of Cologne, who was about eighteen years of age and who had been gravely and miserably aff licted by epilepsy the entire winter of the preceding year, that is to say, the 1233rd year since the Incarnation of the Lord. Every single night and every other day he suffered, pounding the ground or the bed with his head, back, and feet, emitting groans that testified to his great pain. He often needed the help of four brothers to hold him down. While the brothers of this monastery were greatly bothered by the monk’s illness, the abbot was not, trusting that he would be advised what to do with him or where to place him. One night, when the monk was in a truly pitiable state, a certain lady—as he himself told us—appeared to him dressed in white garments. When she asked if he wished to be cured, he responded: “Most assuredly!” And she said: “If that is your wish, then vow to dedicate yourself to Lady Elizabeth of Marburg and you will be cured.” The monk put off making the vow, fearful because he was still young. Warned by her a second time to make the vow, he related the vision to the subprior of the place—because the abbot and the prior were away at the time—and with his counsel he made the vow and he was cured, over a period of approximately four days. Because he had put off making the vow, he saw the same beautiful person in women’s clothes saying to him: “Consider, Heinric, how you were cured after you made the vow.” And having said this, she made the sign of the cross over him and vanished. Sometime later the abbot and prior returned from their journey and marveled when they heard what was said. That very day, the day of their return, while they were sitting in the hospital of the abbey and talking about the miracle—with the subprior present as well as a secular cleric who was a guest—they ref lected on the teaching of the rule of St. Benedict that forbids the brothers from doing or vowing anything unusual without the permission of their spiritual father, and determined that the vow that the monk had taken was inappropriate and illicit. The prior noted that it was possible that the monk had been enticed to engage in such prohibited things as a result of evil spirits and their powers of persuasion. The brother— whose mind had been unstable for some time before he had become ill—was advised to purge himself through confession. The following night, the same person who had appeared to him before, stopped him and said: “You will continue to be sick until you do what you vowed to do.” This having been said, 2. Near Negenborn in Lower Saxony.

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he had a relapse and found himself aff licted with the same illness as before. In the morning, when the abbot learned what had happened, he immediately gave his permission for the monk to fulfill his vow, ordering a wax image to be made and given to him. Taking another monk and a conversus with him as traveling companions, the monk made his way to and from Marburg healthy, strong, and happy. No trace of the illness has been detected in him from that moment up until the present time. Witnesses: I, Conrad, bishop of Hildesheim, received as a guest in the aforementioned monastery, learned that these things had happened in this way, having received the oath of the one who was healed. Twelve brothers of this monastery, who were interrogated about this miracle under oath, concurred with the one who was cured. The abbot and prior of the place later bore witness to all of this under oath in Marburg.

2. Concerning the boy who was cured of epilepsy Adjacent to the previously mentioned monastery is a village called Goldbeck in the diocese of Minden, in which there lived a poor woman named Heiderad. She was summoned into the presence of the bishop of Hildesheim who was passing through that place, and asked about the illness and cure of her son Bernhard, a boy of nearly twelve years of age. She responded under oath that this boy had suffered from epilepsy3 and that she had made a vow to go to Marburg with him. The first time she did this, nothing came of it. But after she went to the shrine a second time and returned home, she no longer detected any sign of the illness in the boy, except that once a kind of stiffness came upon him while he was sitting; but he by no means fell. Alebrand, a priest of this village, concurred under oath with everything that the mother had said. He had witnessed the boy’s malady as well as his restored health, but with regard to the other circumstances, he knew them only by word of mouth. Sifrid and Frideric, citizens of the same village, said under oath that they had seen this same boy—who is now healthy—suffering and falling down frequently, and they firmly believed that his recovery had come about as a result of the invocation of blessed Elizabeth. The boy himself said that blessed Elizabeth had appeared to him when he was about to go to Marburg on another occasion, saying: “Do not be worried about the wax image, because you will have plenty of bees and wax and you will be a happy man.”4 We know that this miracle occurred in the same year in which the monk was healed.

3. Morbus caducus. 4. The Latin of this enigmatic passage reads: Ne timeas pro cerea ymagine, quia apes sufficientes et ceram satis habebis et felix homo eris. Presumably the boy had been concerned that he might not be able to deliver on the promise of a wax image as a votive offering. The mother’s testimony does not mention any such promise.

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3. Concerning the abbot Raimund—formerly a coexaminer of the miracles of happy Elizabeth alongside the archbishop of Mainz and Master Conrad—who had a bad leg. Brother Raimund of the Cistercian Order, abbot of Eberbach in the diocese of Mainz, said under oath that for more than two years one of his legs had not been well. It had many lesions from which humor flowed incessantly and he was unable to find a remedy for it when he consulted doctors. After the lord pope had commanded him to examine the miracles of the lady landgravine Elizabeth, and, as a result, he had set out for Marburg with the archbishop of Mainz, he suffered such great pain that he decided in his heart—and then shared with his companions on the journey—that if he were not better after his return, he would ask to be relieved of his position as examiner and never leave the cloister again.5 To which his notary, Brother Wilhelm, responded: “That will never be. If we have to, we will take you in a cart from place to place to conduct church business.” Afterward Wilhelm added: “Besides, Lady Elizabeth really should heal you, because if she does not, we will not be there to record her miracles.” Approaching Marburg, Raimund heard reports and saw evidence of the miracles that had been performed upon the invocation of Lady Elizabeth and fervently began to hope for his own cure. He went to the tomb praying that, on behalf of the grace conferred by the Lord on Elizabeth in this world and the glory that she was believed to enjoy in heaven, she secure a cure for him, as long as this was not counter to the divine will. Turning his attention to the depositions, he untied his ligatures and cast them aside once and for all. He never put them on again nor did he apply any further medications. Getting better day by day, he was completely cured within three weeks. Albert, the abbot of Arnsburg,6 also of the Cistercian order, said under oath that he had seen Raimund sick in this way and then afterward saw him totally cured. Asked about the timeframe, he concurred with Raimund. Wilhelm, the abbot’s notary, when asked about the infirmity of this one who had suffered so, said under oath that on that very journey—and elsewhere—he had frequently helped Raimund tie his ligatures. He concurred with him about everything except that he did not know how he had prayed or when he had cast aside the ligatures except from what he had heard from others at the time. Asked how long Raimund’s malady had lasted, he responded that he remembered it lasting for more than a year. Asked about his health, he said that shortly after he had returned home7 he saw him healed.

5. This suggests that this commission was originally intended to meet more than once in Marburg. 6. The Cistercian abbey in Wetterau near Gießen. 7. Postquam domum rediit. Because Raimund and Wilhelm were in Marburg when the cure happened, the reference to returning “home” would seem to ref lect the fact that the leg was not completely healed until the two had returned to their monastery.

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4. Concerning a certain epileptic student who was healed Gisla of Marburg in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that her son, a student named Heinric, had suffered from epilepsy for six years and often rushed around the house, the choir, and other places, displaying all the symptoms of that disease. As a result of this, she made a vow using these words: “Beloved Lady Elizabeth, help me, so that my son is healed and I swear that I will give you two denarii every year for as long as I live.” She led him to Elizabeth’s tomb on the eighth day after the octave of Pentecost, three years ago.8 Upon invoking blessed Elizabeth, he was cured and never again experienced any problem of this type. Berta of Marburg said under oath that she saw this student struggling with this illness and then afterward saw him healthy, and that she firmly believed it to have happened through the merits of blessed Elizabeth. With regard to the other circumstances, she said that she was not present to witness them.

5. Concerning the lame man who was healed Gotefrid, a citizen of Marburg, when asked about the cure of his legs, said under oath that he had been bothered by a pain—the kind that normally arises from phlegm9 —in one of his legs for more than twenty years and to a lesser degree in the other one. He also said that he vowed to pay tribute in the amount of two denarii every year to the hospital in Marburg and that he believed himself to be fully cured as a result of his invocation of blessed Elizabeth. Asked when this occurred, he said that it would be two years this coming Feast of St. Anthony10 since he had begun to get better. Another six months after that, he was fully cured. Adelheit, Gotefrid’s eighteen-year-old daughter, said under oath that she had seen her father struggling with this malady since she was old enough to be aware of it. She had been as diligent as he was about his many treatments and had shed many tears on his behalf, but nothing helped, until he invoked blessed Elizabeth and promised his service to her. After that he was cured. Dieteric, a scribe in Marburg, said under oath that he had seen Gotefrid struggling with the disease in his legs for eighteen years—before that he had not seen him at all.11 He also knew for a fact that it had been impossible to cure him with any medication, even though he had a most expert doctor, and that he was finally cured through the invocation of blessed Elizabeth.

8. In 1232, Pentecost occurred on May 30. The eighth day after the octave would have been June 13. 9. The Latin reads salso f lecmate. 10. The Feast of St. Anthony of Egypt was celebrated on January 17. Here the reference is to January 17, 1233. 11. Presumably because he had only known him for eighteen years.

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Mehtild, the wife of Gotefrid, said under oath the same as her husband with regard to the timeframe of the illness. She said that she had not been present when he made his vow, but she had herself made many invocations to blessed Elizabeth on her husband’s behalf. Ida, a fellow citizen of Marburg, said under oath that she had seen Gotefrid’s legs raw, despite the medicine that he used, for eighteen years, but now she knew them to be healed and firmly believed it to be the a result of the invocation of blessed Elizabeth.

6. Concerning the blind girl who received her sight Bertrad of Röddenau in the diocese of Mainz, when asked about the recovery of her niece Eberhild’s sight, said under oath that Eberhild was her sister’s daughter and that she had seen perfectly well for the first three years after her birth but from then until her twelfth year she had been unable to see. At the girl’s urging, her aunt promised to take her and two wax eyes to Marburg on Palm Sunday, the year after the burial of blessed Elizabeth.12 After this had been done, over the course of the Lord’s Supper and the following Good Friday,13 while they were in Marburg, the girl received her sight and returned home seeing well. Eberhild asserted under oath that this had happened to her just as her aunt had described.

7. Concerning the girl who was blind in one eye but recovered her sight This miracle involving Gertrud of Wetzlar was originally approved according to the first examination but was then deleted. The second time its approval was upheld because there were more witnesses and the testimony of the witnesses provided better evidence than in the first examination. Gertrud, a girl of Wetzlar in the diocese of Trier, said under oath that for three years she could see nothing with one of her eyes, that her father and mother had vowed to take her to the tomb of blessed Elizabeth in Marburg, and that, even before they set out on the journey, she was able to see with that eye. Petrissa, the girl’s mother, said under oath that she entered the oratory of blessed Francis in Marburg14 and there invoked his help and vowed to blessed Elizabeth that she would bring her daughter to Marburg. Before they had even set out on that journey, the daughter could see through that eye, just as was said.

12. In 1232, Palm Sunday fell on April 4. 13. April 8 and 9, 1232. 14. Elizabeth had dedicated her hospital chapel to St. Francis.

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Ortwin, a citizen of this same town, said under oath that he had seen the same girl blind in one eye and then later capable of seeing, and that he firmly believed that this had happened through the merits of blessed Elizabeth. Adelheit from the same place said the same thing under oath.

8. Concerning the humpbacked and lame girl who was healed Ortwin of Wetzlar in the diocese of Trier—a witness to Gertrud of Wetzlar’s recovery of the sight in her one blind eye15—said under oath that his daughter Mehthild had never been able to stand or walk and that she had a hump in the middle of her back. When, on the advice of a certain matron who was her godmother, he vowed to take a wax image to the tomb of blessed Elizabeth and then did so, the girl began to straighten up little by little. This happened during Easter week.16 Afterward, around the Feast of St. Michael,17 the father of the girl carried her to Marburg on his back and placed her on top of the tomb of blessed Elizabeth. He then took her from the tomb to the hospital and left her there for a little while. When he returned he found that she could walk and that the hump was gone. Mehthild herself concurred with her father under oath. Ida from the same town said that she had seen the girl Gertrud sick,18 just as was described above, and that, with the promise of an offering on her behalf, she began to recover her health little by little. Later, after the girl had returned from Marburg, she saw her perfectly healthy. Adelheit from the same place concurred under oath with everything that Ida had said. Hezelo from the same town said under oath that he understood all of these things regarding Mehthild to be true based on what he had heard.

9. Concerning the mobility that was restored to a lame man upon his invocation of the blessed Elizabeth Dieteric of Gelnhausen, a native of Amönen in the diocese of Mainz, said under oath that he had been lame for three years less fourteen days, that he had come to Marburg on crutches, and had received his health upon invoking blessed Elizabeth. Leaving his crutches behind, he returned home healthy. Asked when this had happened, he said that it would be two years ago next Easter.19

15. See the previous miracle account. 16. April 11–18, 1232. 17. September 29, 1232. 18. Either Ida of Wetzlar is testifying about the previous case involving Gertud or the scribe was confused. These two successive depositions, both involved girls from Wetzlar, may have been the product of a joint interview. This was certainly the case for Miracle Depositions (1235) 10/11. 19. April 3, 1233.

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Wigand, a native of Fulda and a citizen of Gelnhausen, said under oath that he had seen the same Dieteric lame and then later healthy, but that he did not know where he had been healed or by whom. Everyone in this community reported the same.

10/11. Two approved miracles involving two crippled men from the same village who were cured upon their invocation of blessed Elizabeth In the village of Twiste in the diocese of Paderborn, a five-year-old boy named Werner was crippled in his back and legs. In that same village, a four-year-old boy named Eliger was also crippled, but only in his legs. Having heard of the grace that was being done by God though the blessed Elizabeth, the parents made their way to Marburg, placing the two boys in a cart. By the time they returned to their own village, the boys had recovered their health. Bernhard from the same village said under oath that he had seen these boys for many years, crippled, just as was said, and then he saw them healed through the merits of blessed Elizabeth once a vow had been fulfilled; and that two years had passed since then. Iohann, too, said under oath that he had seen the boys crippled and then healed as a result of the vow. Elbert, too. Iudita, too. Bertrat, too. Benedicta, too. Gisela, too.

12. Concerning the girl with fistulas on her head who was healed Iudita of Ladenburg in the diocese of Worms, when asked about the healing of her daughter of the same name, said under oath that she had been healthy from the time she was born up until she was six months old but then there appeared—on the back of her head in two places and between her shoulders in one place—boils that turned into fistulas. She suffered with them for the next two and a half years. The mother vowed to take the girl to the church of blessed Elizabeth in Marburg, which she did, but nothing came of it that time. A year later—that is, last Easter,20 she went back with the girl again, and from that time until the Feast of All Saints,21 the girl slowly received her health. The mother was truly convinced—because no medicines whatsoever had been administered to her—that this had happened to her through the intervention of blessed Elizabeth.

20. April 23, 1234. 21. November 1, 1234.

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Gotescalc of Soest, in the diocese of Cologne, said under oath that he had seen the girl struggling with this malady and later saw her healthy. He agreed with the mother about the circumstances, that is, with regard to the time and the place of the cure. Elizabeth of Marburg said under oath that Gotescalc, her husband, took the girl in a kind of box—otherwise it would have been impossible to get her there—to the tomb of blessed Elizabeth the first time, and then a year later he took her again in another device, the kind that porters use. She confirmed that on that occasion, she benefited from the visit. Asked about the other circumstances, what she said was consistent with what the mother of the girl had said.

13. Concerning the possessed girl who was liberated upon invoking blessed Elizabeth Herdegen of Allertshausen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that his ten-year-old stepdaughter by the name of Benigna, a native of Sichertshausen, once asked for a drink. A handmaid gave her one in anger, saying: “Take this and drink the excommunicated devil!” The girl drank it and within an hour it seemed as if a burning firebrand had gone down her throat. As a result, she cried out: “O, my neck!” All at once her abdomen swelled up like a barrel. In addition to this growth, something was seen coursing violently through her limbs. She remained in this state for two years, with everyone thinking she was possessed, because she also emitted voices. “I am called Portenere and Wisman,” was often heard coming from her, accompanied by horrible gestures, which she often made. The second time that she was taken to Marburg to the sepulchre, she was quiet for seven weeks. The third time, when her stepfather placed her on the tomb of the blessed Elizabeth, a vow was made on her behalf such that every year on the Feast of St. Francis22 four denarii would be donated to blessed Elizabeth. That same hour she lay there as if she were dead. Her stepfather asked her, “How are you feeling?” She barely responded, but said that she felt calmer. He then got some bread for her, bread that had been left as an offering on the tomb. She tasted it and drank some holy water and right then and there she was freed. Asked when this had occurred, he responded that it happened on the Friday after the Feast of St. Michael 23 of this year24 with Hartbert and Reinhard, two brothers of the Teutonic Knights of Marburg, present and watching. When asked through their order, they said that they had indeed witnessed this, just as it was described.

22. October 4. 23. The Feast of St. Michael is celebrated on September 29. 24. 1234.

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Adolf of Nordeck in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that this same girl was the daughter of his sister and that he had seen her sick, rushing about from place to place on her hands and feet.25 He said that he did not know if this was the result of a demon or not. With regard to the manner of her cure, he concurred with the girl’s stepfather. Otto of Allertshauden, the brother of Herdegen, said under oath that he had often seen the girl and that it had seemed as if a demon were controlling her neck, twisting her arms and legs, and moving about inside her body, but that afterward he saw her cured.

14. Concerning the blind boy who was given sight upon invoking blessed Elizabeth Wigand of Steinbach in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that he had a two-year-old son of the same name who, despite having healthy-looking eyes, had been unable to see; he could not even discern the sun, the moon, or fire. His father and mother made a vow on his behalf to pay tribute in the amount of two denarii to blessed Elizabeth and brought their son to her tomb three times without him being cured. Their friends counseled them to take him there again but this time to stay there until he had secured mercy. So they returned to Marburg a fourth time and after a while the boy began to see. Everyday he improved so that by the end of half a year he had fully recovered his sight. Asked when this had occurred, the father said that this had happened on the Feast of the Blessed John the Baptist two years ago.26 Gunther of Guntherskirchen in the diocese of Mainz, the uncle of the boy’s mother, said under oath that he had seen him blind for two years. He also said that after his return from Marburg, once the vow to pay tribute in the amount indicated had been made on his behalf, the boy got his sight back little by little and now sees very well. Guntramn of Steinbach agreed under oath with the father of the boy and with Gunther in every detail. Heinrich of Steinbach agreed under oath with everything said by the previously mentioned witnesses, that is, that the boy had received his sight little by little after returning from Marburg and that he now sees clearly.

15. Concerning a man with a crippled arm who was healed Dieteric, a gravedigger from the diocese of Utrecht, said under oath that one night when he was sleeping, he was awakened—it seemed to him—by a cat. He raised his right hand so as to hit the cat only to lose the use of his arm. It 25. Per singula membra. 26. June 24, 1232.

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remained crippled like this from Easter to the Feast of St. John the Baptist two years ago.27 He visited the church of blessed Elizabeth twice but was not cured, so he decided to go a third time to Marburg, full of devotion, this time with his wife. On the way he met an old man with a face that inspired reverence in the forest called Stheterwalt. Greeting the old man, he asked him where he was coming from. He responded that he was coming from Marburg where he had been for the last fifteen days. Dieteric then asked him if any miracles had occurred there. He responded that there had been many. Dieteric then showed him his debilitated hand. The old man said to him: “Go with confidence. You will no doubt be cured if, following my advice, you put your paralyzed hand under the stone at the head of the sepulchre. The deeper you stick it in, the more quickly you will be cured.” He added that those people who make offerings and then immediately leave the shrine are stupid, given how much it pleases the saints to have their intercession sought with patience and perseverance. Once this had been said, and his blessing—in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—had been bestowed, the two began to set out again. After taking five steps, they turned around, wanting to ask the old man something else. But he was not there. The couple was greatly amazed by this. Fully believing what he had told them, they went on to Marburg and, on the Tuesday before the Feast of John the Baptist,28 Dieteric approached the sepulchre of the blessed Elizabeth. First he rubbed his afflicted hand with dirt from the sepulchre that Crafto, the priest there, had given him. That night his arm began to feel a bit better.29 The following day, on the vigil of St. John the Baptist,30 acting in accordance with the old man’s instructions, he put his hand under the rock of the sepulchre and, once the use of the hand had been restored to him, he pulled it out, opening and closing it. Asked about the year in which this happened, he responded that the present year was the third one since then. The priest Crafto and many others were present and witnessed this. Margaret, Dieteric’s wife, concurred under oath with everything her husband had said except that she had been asleep at the time when he had lost the use of his hand. She added that the old man had blessed them with his hand held up high and that he had told her husband: “Don’t be unmindful of St. Nicholas when you put your hand under the stone, because he works together with blessed Elizabeth in all matters.” Mehtild, Margaret’s daughter and the stepdaughter of Dieteric, said under oath that her stepfather had lost the use of his hand in his house. She agreed with the other two about everything related to its cure.

27. That is, from April 11 to June 24, 1232. 28. The Feast of John the Baptist is celebrated on June 24. In 1232, the previous Tuesday would have been June 22. 29. Mitius habuit. 30. June 23.

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16. Concerning the woman who was given sight in her blind eye upon her invocation of blessed Elizabeth Gumpert of Lauterbach in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that his wife Lucgard had been blind in one eye for almost two years, the eye having turned outward toward her temple. She went with her husband to the tomb of blessed Elizabeth and suddenly she was cured and could see clearly. This happened on the Wednesday after Easter week.31 Present there at the time of this invocation to blessed Elizabeth was a certain woman guarding the sepulchre who was dressed in fox skins. Witnesses: Cunrad, Hermann, and Gerwin, all from the same village, agreed under oath with the testimony of Gumpert.

17. Concerning the hanged man who was revived Hartmann of Grünebecke in the diocese of Cologne said under oath that he had been hung from the neck for many hours, at least according to what he was later told. After his friends had gotten permission from the judge, who reckoned him to be dead, they took him down to bury him. They had, in fact, dug the hole while he was hanging on the gallows. Once he had been taken down, his father and uncle began to invoke the merits of blessed Elizabeth on his behalf and, after persisting for some time in their prayers, he came back to life. Afterward he said that, prior to his hanging, he had been held in jail for three days short of ten weeks and that during that time he had often invoked blessed Elizabeth and Master Conrad. He said that one night both of them appeared to him in a vision full of light and consoled him. Dietmar, the uncle of the one who was hanged, said under oath that he had seen him hung on the gallows from what he figured to be a distance of one Teutonic mile. He also said that after he and the Hartmann’s father had invoked blessed Mary, blessed Elizabeth, and Master Conrad, Hartmann came back to life. Gertrud of Merlere said under oath that she had seen him hung and concurred with everything that the uncle had said. Arnold, a parish priest from the same village, bore witness under oath to what many had already said about the hanged man.

18. Concerning the one who was hung and then liberated from his execution Johannes of Wolfhagen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that when he was caught in an act of theft, he invoked the aid of blessed Elizabeth and begged everyone to pray on his behalf so that, in accordance with her merits, 31. It is not clear from the text which year is referred to here.

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God and Elizabeth would assist him. While he was hanging there and the people were turning to go, he heard a voice above his head saying to him: “Trust in me: Do not remove this rope from your neck until you go to the tomb of blessed Elizabeth in Marburg.” And with that the rope broke and he fell to the ground. He fell so heavily from such a height that his new shirt was torn in the front and the back yet he felt no pain. Asked when this had happened, he said that it had happened that very year.32 Asked about the date, he said that it happened on the Feast of St. Thomas the Apostle.33 Gerlach of Udenborn, in the diocese of Mainz, said under oath that he, along with his father, had arrested this man on suspicion of theft and hung him along with another man—who remained hanging—in the presence of some 300 people, and that this same one had fallen in the sight of everyone who had come to the hanging; that is, when they were turning to go, they heard him fall. And when he had surrendered all of his clothes for the sake of God,34 the people, struck by the miracle, gave twenty-six denarii in alms, while the priest of the village gave him a shirt and a pair of trousers. Concerning the year, the place, and the date, Gerlach concurred with the man who had been hung. He also said that he had heard the following words coming from the hung man: “Holy Elizabeth, you have freed and gently protected me.” Asked under which judge these things had happened, he responded: “Under Cunrad Ubelshoubet.” Heinrich of Udenborn said under oath that he had been present at the hanging and that he had seen the man hung on a tall oak tree. When he turned to go, he heard the crowd shouting: “The hanged man has fallen!” He also said that twenty-six denarii were given to the man right there. Asked about the place, the year, the date, the judge, and the people present, he agreed with what was said before. Hartmann of Trudefe in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that Johannes, who claimed to be from Wolfhagen, was hanged with the people of three different parishes present and that he himself had seen him fall and get up. He said that Hartmud and his son Gerlach of Udenborn had hung him. Asked about the reason for the hanging, he responded: “Because he had stolen from his partner.” Asked about the place, the year, the date, the judge, and the people present, he agreed with those who had come before. Sifrid of Gershausen agreed with everything said by those who had come before with the exception of the name of the judge, which she did not know. Rutard of Gershausen said under oath that he had seen this Johannes hanged and then saw him fall and get up. He also said that when he was being 32. 1234. This was the most recent of the miracles recorded by this commission, occurring as it did the month before the commissioners convened. 33. December 21. 34. To be used as testimony to the miracle, it would appear.

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taken to be hanged again, the judge responded: “He whom God has freed is not to be hung a second time.”

19. Concerning the boy whose head leaned down to his shoulder and whose arm trembled and how he was cured through blessed Elizabeth Theoderic Ohsethen of Niederwalgern in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that his son Hermann had a tremor in his arm and that his head leaned down toward his left shoulder, the boy being unable to lift it up fully by himself. He was troubled with this malady for about twelve weeks before the boy’s mother made a vow for the sake of recovering his health. She vowed to send every year to the tomb of blessed Elizabeth four Marburg denarii, to be brought by the boy himself once he had reached the age of discretion; until then his mother would bring the money. He remained afflicted in this way until he was carried to the sepulchre of the blessed Elizabeth, but from that point on the boy began to improve until he was perfectly healthy. Asked when this had happened, he said: “Last year.”35 Asked for the names of those who knew about the miracle, he responded that his fellow citizens all knew about it. Adolf, the uncle of the boy, as well as Irmentrud and Gertrud, were asked on what day the boy had been brought to the tomb of blessed Elizabeth, and they all said: “Around the Feast of John the Baptist.”36 Guda, the mother of this boy, said under oath that her seven-year-old son Hermann was not well from the beginning of Lent 37 to the Feast of Pentecost;38 that during that time his head leaned down toward his left shoulder and he was unable to lift it by himself. He also had a tremor in his arm that prevented him from using the hand on that side. He was also without the use of his leg on that side; in fact we could not even lie on that side. With an eye to his recovery, she made a vow to blessed Elizabeth according to which every year she would give four denarii and come with the boy to the tomb of blessed Elizabeth. She prayed using the following words: “Holy Lady Elizabeth, pray for me to God on behalf of your sanctity, so that my son may be healed.” After the offering was made, she returned home and immediately he began to get better, until, improving day by day, he fully recovered his health. Asked when these things had happened, she said that they had happened the previous year.39 Adolf, the uncle of the boy, from the same village, said under oath that he had seen the boy prior to his infirmity and then saw him with it, his head leaning down toward his left shoulder, his arm thin and lifeless, and his left side and leg being of little or no use to him when unfettered. Regarding the time 35. 36. 37. 38. 39.

1233. June 24, 1233. Carniprivium (carnis privium). In 1233, Ash Wednesday fell on February 16. May 22, 1233. 1233.

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and all the other facts, he agreed with the boy’s mother, adding that it was on the advice of his own mother that she had invoked the intercession of blessed Elizabeth on behalf of her boy, just as was said before. Irmentrud from the same village said under oath that she had known the boy for a long time when he was healthy and had also seen him sick, as his mother described, until the visit to blessed Elizabeth’s sepulchre. After that, she saw him improving day after day until he was perfectly healthy. Asked when this had happened, she concurred with the previous witnesses. Gertrud, a woman of the same village, agreed with everything that Irmentrud had said.

20. Concerning the boy with the arm broken above the elbow who was healed Hildegund of Wigandeshusen, in the diocese of Mainz, said under oath that her five-year-old son Gumpert had fallen after being placed on a horse and broken his right arm so that the bone stuck out through the flesh. After lying in bed this way for six weeks, his mother was advised to seek the counsel of a certain doctor. She responded that she would never call a doctor to heal her son because she had already invoked the merits of blessed Elizabeth to heal him. During the seventh week she and her son took a chicken and a wax image of an arm as offerings to the tomb of the blessed Elizabeth, approaching it with devotion. Returning home, she immediately placed her son in the bath and cut off the bone that was sticking out from the broken flesh the length of a finger. That same hour all the flesh that had been cut by the bone suddenly grew back so that the hole was covered over with skin, albeit red skin. And from that point on, the boy had the use of that arm for eating. Within the space of fourteen days, he could use the arm for all tasks appropriate to a boy of that age. Asked what words she had used to invoke blessed Elizabeth on behalf of the boy, she responded: “I invoked her in this way: ‘Sweet blessed Elizabeth, give me the grace of my son recovering his health, so that I can always be devoted to you.’ ” She said that she repeated these words many times. Asked when this had happened, she said that these events had happened two years ago. 40 Asked in which month, she said: “The month of September.” And we who heard the testimony saw the piece of bone that was shown to us. Emmicho of Wigandeshusen, the father of the boy, said under oath that his five-year-old son Gumpert had fallen from a horse, after having been lifted onto the horse by his brother, and had broken his right arm above the elbow such that the broken bone stuck out of the flesh. As a result, he laid in bed for about six weeks. The rest was the same as the boy’s mother had reported,

40. 1232.

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except that Emmicho had not seen her cut off the bone. But over the course of a single day he did see the bone sticking out from the skin and then later saw the wound healed and closed as if stitched with red thread.

21. Concerning the drowned boy who was revived upon the invocation of Elizabeth and Master Conrad Albert of Heuchelnheim said under oath that Heinric, his one-and-a-half-yearold son, was found in the water dead and did not immediately revive when blessed Elizabeth was invoked. So he began to invoke the intercession of Master Conrad, after which his son revived. Asked on whose merits, Elizabeth’s or Conrad’s, this miracle had happened, he said that he did not know. Hetzechin of Heuchelnheim agreed with the first witness with regard to everything, including when the miracle had taken place, that is to say, on Tuesday, the fifteenth day after the Feast day of St. Walburga. 41 Ortwin concurred under oath with the others in everything. These things were done in the year of the Lord 1234.

22. Concerning the blind girl who received her sight Heinrich of Battenfeld said under oath that his ten-year-old daughter Jutta had been without her vision for twenty-two weeks. Finally he prostrated himself at the sepulchre of blessed Elizabeth and, upon invoking her, she received her sight. This occurred in the year of the Lord 1232 during the week after Epiphany. 42 Cristina of Weidenhausen near Marburg said under oath that she had seen the girl blind in her house and then saw her again with her sight after the invocation of blessed Elizabeth. She agreed with the first witness concerning the time of the month, but she did not know the precise day on which the girl received her sight. Heinric, Cristina’s husband, said under oath that he had seen the girl blind and then, after the invocation of blessed Elizabeth, saw her when she was able to see. Concerning the time of the month he concurred with his wife.

23. Concerning the girl with a swollen hand who was healed upon invoking blessed Elizabeth and Master Conrad Siboto of Höingen in the diocese of Mainz said under oath that his daughter Adelheid, now ten years old, had had a swollen right hand for two years. It

41. Walburga (d. 779) was an abbess of Heidenheim who assisted Boniface in the conversion of Germany. Her feast dates are February 25 and May 1 (the date of her translation). Huyskens (Quellenstudien, p. 259) selected the latter when calculating May 16 as the date of the miracle. 42. Epiphany is celebrated on January 6.

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ultimately became so weak that she did not have the use of this hand for more than twenty weeks. After making a vow, he took his daughter and a wax image of a hand to the church of the blessed Elizabeth; but she was not healed at that time. He returned to blessed Elizabeth a second time and vowed to offer her two denarii each year in her honor. He also vowed that he would fast, taking only bread and water every single Friday for a year in honor of Master Conrad. Within fifteen days his daughter was fully healed, though he did not know by whose merits, because both Elizabeth and Master Conrad had been invoked. He hoped that it had happened through the merits of both. Asked when this had occurred, he said on the Saturday before the last Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary in the present year. 43 Helinburc, the mother of the girl, agreed under oath with the father with regard to all the circumstances, adding that the poor girl had already begun to get better before she was taken to Marburg a second time. Ludewic from the same village, who was the next door neighbor of the girl’s parents, said under oath that he had seen her before and during her malady and then saw her again after her second visit to the sepulchre of the blessed Elizabeth when she was fully healed. We, the examiners, saw this same girl healthy.

24. Concerning the conversus, whose hand was crushed by a millstone, who was cured Volcmar, a conversus at Reinhardsbrunn 44 in the diocese of Mainz—a devout man who had for some twenty years worn a breastplate against his flesh (in fact he had worn out three of them and was wearing his fourth) and who had a bed made of rocks and wood with a stone for a pillow—said under oath that when, in accordance with his responsibilities, he was working in the mill, the mill stone accidentally caught his hand and crushed it, removing all the flesh inside and out, breaking the bones and grinding the tendons so that what remained of his crushed hand was bent inward and crippled, unable to be extended. While he was thus afflicted, blessed Elizabeth—whom he had often invoked with great devotion, because when she was alive she had been friendly and kind toward him, her husband Ludwig, who was still alive at the time, being a patron of the church of Reinhardsbrunn—appeared to him while we was awake one night and, in the midst of a brilliant light, spoke to him as follows: “Do you wish to be healed?” And he said: “Indeed I do.” Taking his hand, she touched it where it was injured and all at once the pain ceased and the

43. The Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin is celebrated on August 15. In 1234, the Saturday before August 15 was August 12. 44. The Benedictine monastery near Gotha that served as the pantheon of the landgraves of Thuringia.

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flesh was restored both on the inside and outside of the hand. As the tendons relaxed, he regained the use of the hand just like before. The following morning he entered the chapter showing his hand, healed and extended, to everyone who was gathered there, and recounting the miracle step by step. Asked when the injury had occurred, he said that it had happened in the year of the Lord 1233 during winter about fifteen days before the Feast of the Purification. 45 Asked when he had been cured, he responded that it was during the subsequent Lent, but that he did not remember the exact day. Eckard, the abbot of the same monastery, reported that he had seen the injured man. He had related everything just as it has been recounted above, to the greater prior of the Teutonic Knights, swearing in accordance with the obedience that he owed to God and to the lord pope. Hildebrand, the prior of the same place, said under oath that he had himself seen the injured man and then, in the presence of the brothers, saw him extend the very hand that he had seen in its injured state only a short time before. Asked when this had taken place, he could not recall. Conrad Suevus, a priest, said under oath the same thing as the prior. The priest Christian, who was the chamberlain of the same place, said under oath that on the very day of the injury, before high mass, he had seen the injured man asking to have his hand amputated due to the intense pain. After that he often saw him with his crippled hand held up by a kind of sling. Later he saw him briefly while his hand was still crippled and then shortly thereafter saw him fully healed. Asked when the injury had occurred, he concurred with the injured man. Asked when he had been healed, he could not remember clearly but said that it was shortly thereafter. Eckard, a priest, said under oath that he had seen the injured man just as he was previously described. Asked when the injury had occurred, he said that it happened about fifteen days before the Feast of the Purification. Asked when the hand had been healed, he said that it happened during Lent but that he did not recall precisely the day. Asked how recently before the cure he had seen the injured man, he said that he had seen him only a short time before, because the injured man often entered the refectory in the performance of his duties along with the servants who carried the bread. Many other witnesses gathered who had often seen him this way, entering the refectory with his hand crippled. After he was healed, they heard him declaring publicly that he had been healed upon his invocation of blessed Elizabeth after she had appeared to him in the midst of a bright light. Brother Theoderic, a conversus of the same monastery, concurred under oath with the prior in almost everything, adding that he had seen the crippled hand, its palm half-perforated, and all the flesh removed.

45. This feast is celebrated on February 2. Hence, the injury occurred on about January 19, 1234.

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Gunther the baker, who performed the same duties as the injured conversus, said under oath that he had seen his hand with the skin and flesh pulled off and with the bones crushed as if by a mortar. To him it was unimaginable, at least according to the laws of nature, that he would ever have any use of the hand again. Later he saw him constantly with his hand crippled, because he was almost always with him. The very afternoon before the night of the cure he had seen him with his hand totally lifeless, but the first thing the following morning Volcmar showed him the hand, healed and extended, making it clear by the movement of his fingers that he had the full use of it. With tears of joy he claimed that he had received this grace from blessed Elizabeth who had appeared to him that same night. Asked when this had occurred, he concurred with the man who was healed. Almost the entire convent agreed with the prior in all of this, but they did not recall when it had happened because they had not noticed at the time, nor did they think it necessary to do so. Here end the miracles of the first order of the fortunate landgravine Elizabeth, newly heard and approved and twenty-four in number.

Miracles of the Second Order Here begin the miracles that were affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach (formerly coexaminer by apostolic authority with the lord bishop of Mainz and Master Conrad) and his monk Wilhelm (who recorded the miracles in the first examination), gathered from the original documents, some of which retain the original wording and order as those contained in the transcript that the lord pope sent back to us through Master Hermann of the Teutonic Knights, the same transcript that Master Conrad had sent to the pope. These miracles were approved in the presence of Bishop Conrad of Hildesheim and Abbot Hermann of Georgenthal of the Cistercian order in the diocese of Mainz during a second examination, which was conducted with the apostolic authority delegated to us in regard to this matter, in Marburg in the year of the Lord 1234 on the calends of January. 46 There are forty-three miracles of the second order. 1. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the boy who was born blind, but was given sight. 47 Isenthrud of Schletzenrod, etc.

46. January 1, 1235. 47. Miracle 1 from the original inquiry.

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2. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the bent, humpbacked, and scrofulous girl who was cured. 48 Sophia of Büdingen, etc. 3. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the drowned student who was resuscitated. 49 Henric, a knight from Kolnhusen, etc. 4. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the dead boy who was resuscitated.50 Lutrud of Rüddenau, etc. 5. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund, the monk Wilhelm, and the priest Theoderic of Elsoff: concerning the boy who drowned in a well and was resuscitated.51 Wighard of Medebach, etc. 6. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm, and once again verified by witnesses: concerning the crippled girl who was cured.52 Gerthrude of Bleichenbach, etc. 7. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the dead boy who was revived.53 Moreover Hermann the priest and Helwic the scribe acknowledged the same under oath. Methild of Langgöns, etc. 8. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund, the monk Wilhelm, and the priests Theodoric and Hermann: concerning the heretic who was converted and cured of a polyp.54 Guta, a widow from Denzerod, etc. 9. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund and the priests Theodoric and Hermann: concerning the woman with stones who was cured.55 Aba of Ginsheid, etc. 10. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund: concerning a girl with weak limbs, a hump, and a scrofula, who was cured.56 Ortwin of Wetzlar, etc. 11. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the lame boy who was healed.57 Heidolf of Esbike, etc.

48. Miracle 3 from the original inquiry. 49. Miracle 6 from the original inquiry. 50. Miracle 7 from the original inquiry. 51. Miracle 10 from the original inquiry. 52. Miracle 12 from the original inquiry. 53. Miracle 13 from the original inquiry. 54. Miracle 14 from the original inquiry. 55. Miracle 17 from the original inquiry. 56. Miracle 22 from the original inquiry. 57. Miracle 33 from the original inquiry.

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12. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the lame and humpbacked boy who was cured.58 Heinric of Elmshausen, etc. 13. A miracle affirmed by the same men under oath: concerning the epileptic girl who was healed.59 Hildegund, a widow from Allna, etc. 14. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the epileptic boy who was cured.60 Eckard of Erfurtshausen, etc. 15. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the blind boy who was given sight.61 Irmendrud of Unterrosphe, etc. 16. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the blind woman who was given sight.62 Gertrud of Unterrosphe, etc. 17. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm and once again verified by witnesses: concerning the lame boy who was cured.63 Isenthrud of Zeppenfeld, etc. 18. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the paralytic who was cured.64 Jordan of Bacha, etc. 19. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm and once again verified by witnesses: concerning the drowned girl who was revived.65 Demud of Zeppenfeld, etc. 20. A miracle affirmed by Abbot Raimund and the monk Wilhelm, as well as by Theoderic and Hermann, and verified again by him for whom the miracle was done: concerning the drowned man who came back to life.66 Frideric Flasche, etc. 21. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm and once again verified by witnesses: concerning the blind woman who was given sight.67 Hedwig of Allertshausen, etc. 22. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm and once again verified by a witness named

58. Miracle 34 from the original inquiry. 59. Miracle 35 from the original inquiry. 60. Miracle 36 from the original inquiry. 61. Miracle 37 from the original inquiry. 62. Miracle 38 from the original inquiry. 63. Miracle 44 from the original inquiry. 64. Miracle 45 from the original inquiry. 65. Miracle 47 from the original inquiry. 66. Miracle 49 from the original inquiry. Theoderic and Hermann are identified as priests in Miracle 28 below. 67. Miracle 50 from the original inquiry.

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23.

24.

25. 26. 27. 28.

29.

30.

31.

32. 33.

Guntram: concerning the humpbacked man with the scrofula who was cured.68 Hedwig of Limburg, etc. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the lame and humpbacked woman who was cured.69 Hitzega of Bicken, etc. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the woman with the distorted face who was cured.70 Lutgard of Auerbach, etc. Another miracle affirmed by the same: concerning the lame boy who was cured.71 Sifrid, a knight from Allendorf, etc. Another affirmed by the same: concerning the man who was infirm from the waist down who was cured.72 Ruker of Kröffelbach, etc. Another miracle affirmed by the same: concerning the man with skewed eyes who was cured.73 Henric of Koblenz, etc. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund, the monk Wilhelm, and the priests Hermann and Theoderic: concerning the cripple who was cured.74 Heinrich, a knight of Daden, etc. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the lame boy who was healed.75 Irmenthrud of Essershausen, etc. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the woman with dropsy who was cured.76 Adelheid, a female canon at Böddeken, etc. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the lame girl who was cured.77 Theoderic and his wife Gerthrud of Wiesbaden, etc. Another miracle affirmed by the same: concerning the lame boy with fistulas who was cured.78 Gerthrud of Reitzenhagen, etc. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund, the monk Wilhelm, and the priests Hermann and Theoderic, and Helwig, and verified once again by witnesses: concerning the lame boy with fistulas who was cured.79 Friedrich of Gelnhausen, etc.

68. Miracle 54 from the original inquiry. 69. Miracle 56 from the original inquiry. 70. Miracle 57 from the original inquiry. 71. Miracle 58 from the original inquiry. 72. Miracle 59 from the original inquiry. 73. Miracle 60 from the original inquiry. 74. Miracle 62 from the original inquiry. 75. Miracle 65 from the original inquiry. 76. Miracle 67 from the original inquiry. 77. Miracle 68 from the original inquiry. 78. Miracle 79 from the original inquiry. 79. Miracle 82 from the original inquiry.

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34. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach, the monk Wilhelm, and the priest Theoderic: concerning the blind woman who was given sight.80 Methild of Biedenkopf, etc. 35. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the blind woman who was given sight.81 Orthrun of Beyenheim, etc. 36. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the bent and mute boy who was cured.82 Cunrad of Rechfeld, etc. 37. A miracle affirmed under oath by Abbot Raimund of Eberbach and the monk Wilhelm: concerning the swollen and lame girl who was healed.83 Nendewic of Hoheneiche, etc. . . . 84

80. Miracle 84 from the original inquiry. 81. Miracle 85 from the original inquiry. 82. Miracle 86 from the original inquiry. 83. Miracle 87 from the original inquiry. 84. The text is incomplete. Despite the promise made in the preface to the “Miracles of the Second Order” to provide forty-three miracles, only thirty-seven are recorded. Also missing are the miracles of the “Third Order” and the “Fourth Order,” whose inclusion was projected in the preface to the second miracle report as a whole.

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Dicta quatuor ancillarum (January 1235)

The most important extant source of information about Elizabeth’s life is the collection of the depositions that were taken before the papal commission in January 1235 from her four closest companions: Guda and Isentrud, two women of high standing who were in close contact with the saint between 1222 and 1228; and Irmgard and Elizabeth, two servants who knew her best between 1228 and 1231. The following is a translation of the short version, traditionally known at the Dicta quatuor ancillarum. 1. Guda—a pious virgin who, when she was about five years of age, was joined to the blessed Elizabeth, who was herself in her fourth year—was asked about Elizabeth’s conduct and life. She said under oath that blessed Elizabeth, the former landgravine of Thuringia, daughter of the king of Hungary, was zealous about her religion from the time she was a child, directing all of her desires and actions toward God, under circumstances that were both playful and serious. When she was five years old and not yet able to read, she would frequently lie down in front of the altar and open the psalter in front of her as if she were praying. Foreshadowing her good character, she practiced genuflection in secret and took every opportunity to sneak into the chapel in a variety of different ways. When she was being watched by her handmaids, she would run toward the chapel as if she were playing a game and trying to catch one of the other

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girls. Suddenly leaping inside the chapel, she would dedicate herself to prayer in front of the altar with her knees bent, her hands folded, and her mouth touching the floor. 2. In accordance with the rules of a certain game, which involved jumping on one foot, she would chase the other little girls toward the chapel. If she was unable to enter the chapel using this game as a ruse, she would at least kiss the church portal and walls. 3. Whenever she played “rings,” or any other game for that matter, she placed her hope of winning in God and promised him so many genuflections accompanied by Ave Marias should she succeed. When she was not in a position to perform these genuflections and Ave Marias secretly, she would say to another little girl: “Let’s measure ourselves to see who is taller.” In the process of lying down on the ground and measuring herself, she performed many such genuflections. She shared this story with many others once she became an adult. 4. Whenever she played “rings” or some other game, she would give a tenth of her winnings to the poorer girls with whom she played.1 She also gave them little gifts, obliging the recipient of each to say a certain number of Pater Nosters and Ave Marias. 5. When she was a little older, she longed to have the blessed evangelist John, the custodian of chastity, as her apostle.2 When, according to custom, the names of all the apostles were written individually either on candles or on paper and placed together all mixed up on the altar so that each of the young ladies could choose an apostle for herself, Elizabeth, pouring forth her prayers in accordance with a vow, managed to pick St. John three times by lot. From then on no matter what she requested in his honor—whether it be a gift, or forgiveness for some offense, or permission to do something—it was never refused her. 6. Whenever she was compelled to go to bed before she had completed her votive prayers, she continued to pray in bed. 7. Every day she took something away from herself so as to break her own will for God’s sake. When she won a game, she would say: “Now at the height of my success I will, for God’s sake, stop playing.” 8. While the other girls would perform many rounds as they danced, she, having completed only one, would say to the others: “One is enough for me.

1. A reference to tithing. See Leviticus 27:30. 2. According to tradition, John remained chaste his entire life. The pertinent reference in Jacobus de Voragine’s Golden Legend reads: “[John] was chosen as a virgin and so is one who had in him the grace of virginal chastity: he had thought of marrying but instead was called by the Lord.” The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, trans. William Granger Ryan, 2 vols. (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993), p. 1:50. Marie d’Oignies also had a special relationship with St. John the Evangelist. Jacques de Vitry, Life of Marie d’Oignies, trans. Margot H. King (Toronto: Peregrina, 1993), p. 24.

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I will dispense with the rest for God’s sake.” And she did many other things similar to this. 9. She was accustomed to make many little vows on behalf of God, like not attaching her sleeves3 before mass on feast days and not wearing gloves on Sunday before noon. Out of reverence for God and in accordance with her vows, she abstained from these things, which pertained to the cult of the body and the vanity of the world, as well as from others that would take too long to recount. Throughout her youth, she humbly held God before her eyes and directed everything toward him, invoking him and sweetly referring to him in relation to everything that she did. Although there was much more to be said on this subject, Guda could not remember at the moment; so these few examples will suffice. 10. Asked how much time she had spent with Elizabeth and how it was that she knew these things, Guda responded just as was stated above: that she had been with blessed Elizabeth, serving her after the death of her lord the landgrave up until blessed Elizabeth was professed, donning the gray tunic, at the hands of Master Conrad. Guda herself assumed the gray tunic, through which she formalized the vow of chastity that she had taken some years before at the hands of Master Conrad. 11. Isentrud, a pious woman from Hörselgau—who was in the household of blessed Elizabeth for about five years while her husband the landgrave was still alive4 and remained with her after the death of the landgrave for more than another year, and who was so close to her that she knew all of her secrets up until the time that blessed Elizabeth donned the gray habit5—was asked about Elizabeth’s life. She said, under oath, that she had always observed her, while her husband was still alive, being religious, humble, very charitable, and extremely intent on her prayers. 12. She would often make her way to church at a faster pace than her attendants and furtively perform a number of genuflections. This made them murmur and become indignant. 13. When she still lived in the habit of her secular glory,6 she secretly took in a sick beggar who was horrendous in appearance, suffering from a skin disease on his head. With her own hands, she trimmed his horrid locks while his head was lying in her lap. Later she washed his head in an out-of-the-way place of hers beyond the walls, wanting to keep him out of sight. When she was reproached about this by her handmaids, who found her there, she just laughed.

3. 4. 5. 6.

Manicis non consuendis. These might also be “cuffs.” Elizabeth’s husband, Ludwig, died on September 11, 1227. Isentrud used the word habitus whereas Guda referred to the garment as a tunica. In other words, when she was still married and living in court.

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14. Isentrud said that while the landgrave was still alive, and with his consent, the blessed Elizabeth swore obedience to Master Conrad of Marburg, except with regard to the rights of her husband. She promised, at the hand of this same Conrad, that she would observe perpetual continence if she happened to outlive her husband. This took place in Eisenach in the monastery of St. Catherine.7 15. Isentrud said that once this obedience had been sworn, Master Conrad ordered Elizabeth not to use any of her husband’s goods about which she did not have a clear conscience. She observed this very strictly to the point that, though sitting at her husband’s side at the table, she would abstain from anything that came from the dealings8 and the profits9 of his officials, not making use of food unless she knew that it had come from the revenues and justly acquired goods10 of her husband. When something that came from such profits was served, she would only pretend to eat in the presence of the knights or ministers, breaking up bread and other foods and disposing of the pieces here and there so that it looked like she was eating. When she and three of her attendants, who had agreed to follow the same regimen, begged the landgrave not to be indignant with them for not eating along with the others and only pretending to do so, he responded: “I would do this myself if I did not fear being slandered by members of my household and others. Lord willing, I will soon be able to arrange things differently with regard to my position.”11 Blessed Elizabeth provided for herself and her attendants as if they were a family, relying on resources that had been specifically assigned to her in her dowry. When she could find nothing for sale—indeed, nothing at all—she dispatched messengers to get what she needed from the most honest men whom she could find. She was more delighted by these items than she was by the food at court. She did this intentionally so that she could follow the rules laid out by Master Conrad, for he had also forbid her to make use of certain people’s goods, which could not have been used in good conscience. As a result she often suffered great penury, eating nothing but rolls spread with honey. She and her attendants would have been content with bread if there had been any that she could safely eat.12 Thus, in the very midst of the many dishes on her husband’s table, she was afflicted with thirst and hunger, though he would quietly provide her with any good13 things that he was served at that time.

7. Elizabeth’s mother-in-law, Sophia, had retired to St. Catherine’s in 1217 on the death of her husband. 8. Officiis. 9. Quaestu. 10. Iustis bonis. 11. Ludwig’s intentions here are not clear, but according to Dicta 31.3, Elizabeth and Ludwig actually discussed the possibility of living a life of mendicancy together. 12. Given Conrad’s restrictions about the provenance of her food. 13. Presumably food items that had been acquired in accordance with Conrad’s strictures.

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Once when she was expected to eat with her husband and was abstaining from many impious dishes, she asked for five tiny little birds14 and was content to keep only part for herself, sending what remained to her attendants. When she was unable to secure such justly acquired goods, her concern was less about her own want than that of her handmaids. With the help of the villagers, she tried to locate what they needed. When she found acceptable food, she would say to her handmaids: “Now you may eat but not drink.” When she found an acceptable beverage—for instance from among her husband’s wines—she would say: “Now you may drink but not eat.” And when she determined that both were acceptable, she would clap her hands with joy and say: “Good for us! Now we can both eat and drink.” Once, when she was about to follow her husband to a great diet,15 she could not find any food that she could eat with a good conscience except a large loaf of bread that was black and hard, which she managed to eat, after softening it with warm water. She and her attendants were content with this meal because they regularly fasted on Saturday anyway. Then, that very day, they rode a distance of eight Teutonic miles, that is, more than forty Italian ones,16 to the diet. As a result of this unusual way of living, she as well as her husband—because he permitted it—were the object of a great deal of scorn from their own people. Abstaining from all things that had been acquired illicitly, she found the strength to be satisfied with her sufferings insofar as she was able.17 16. Blessed Elizabeth often got up from bed at night to pray, though her husband begged her not to afflict herself so. Sometimes he took one of her hands in his and, for as long as she prayed, pleaded with her, asking her to come back, concerned as he was about her discomfort. 17. Blessed Elizabeth asked her attendants to wake her up at night so she could pray, since she was in the habit of getting up every night when her husband was sleeping, or at least pretending to sleep. Afraid of aggravating their lord by waking her, they asked her how they should do it. She instructed them to tug on her foot. Once when Isentrud was trying to wake her lady, she tugged by accident on the foot of her lord, who had positioned his leg on his lady’s side of the bed. Despite being awakened, he bore it patiently knowing what Isentrud was trying to do. 18. Due to the length of her prayer vigils, Elizabeth often fell asleep on the carpet in front of the bed. When asked by her handmaids why, if she was so tired, she did not just go back and sleep with her husband, she responded: “Although

14. Avicula. This word could also be translated “oyster.” 15. An imperial assembly. 16. This conversion suggests that the editor of the depositions had an Italian audience in mind (i.e., the pope and the papal curia). 17. The Latin here is ambiguous: Ipsa vero licet abstineret ab illicite conquisitis tamen ubi poterat vim passis satisfieri procurabat.

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I may not be capable of praying incessantly, I am still doing battle with my flesh by tearing myself away from my beloved husband.” 19. Rising from her man’s side, she would have her handmaids beat her in a secret chamber and then, after prayer, return happily to her husband’s bed. She did this frequently after promising obedience to Master Conrad. Prior to that time she had only done this during Lent and on Fridays. When her husband was absent, she spent many nights performing vigils, genuflections, flagellations, and prayers. 20. Whenever worldly matrons came to see her, she would confer with them about God as if she were preaching. Through the persistence of her entreaties, she would persuade them to vow to abstain from at least one thing pertaining to the vanity of the world; that is, if she were unable to induce them to forgo anything more than this. She tried to persuade them to give up unnecessary things like dancing, or silk ribbons braided into their hair for the sake of their adornment, or hair bands, or sleeves that were sewn too tightly;18 she would have them try on proper sleeves appropriate to good morals. She would also encourage them to take a vow of continence that would take effect upon the deaths of their husbands. 21. From her youth it was her custom in mass—typically during the reading of certain Gospel passages—to loosen her sleeves and to remove her necklaces and rings, as well as the other ornaments of her body. She was also in the habit of keeping her veil gathered up on top of her head during the Gospel and the canon of the mass, and then letting it down when the host was taken out. 22. After the birth of each of her children, when she had completed the customary days of purification, Elizabeth came to church barefoot and dressed in wool, in marked contrast to the other matrons who came to church dressed in precious clothing and accompanied by their retinues. Following the example of the blessed Virgin, Elizabeth carried her child in her own arms and offered it on the altar along with a candle and a lamb. As soon as she returned home, she would give the tunic and cloak that she had worn to some poor woman. 23. On the Rogation Days she would follow the procession of the cross barefoot and dressed in wool. During the sermons at the stations of the cross, she always placed herself among the poorest women. 24. While her husband was alive she spun wool with her attendants and arranged for cloth to be made from it to be used for clothing for the Friars Minor and the poor. She also sewed clothes for poor catechumens with her own hands. Having them baptized, she would remove them from the sacred font herself so that she would become their godmother and be able to do good things for them. She also made clothes for the burial of dead paupers. Touching and handling them with her own hands, she was present at their funerals. She

18. Manicis consuticiis nimis strictis.

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once cut a pure white linen veil into pieces, using it solely for burying the dead. Visiting a certain sick pauper and hearing him lamenting about some debts that he was not able to pay, she paid them for him. 25. She could not tolerate it when the dead bodies of rich people were wrapped in linens and dressed in new shirts instead of old ones, and so ordered that the better cloth be given to the poor. She was a frequent visitor and consoler of poor women about to give birth. When women such as these—or indeed any infirm people—sent messengers to her asking for something, she herself would go to their dwellings so that, by seeing them, she would be inspired to mercy and compassion. No matter how far away their dwellings were or how muddy or harsh the paths, she visited them. She entered their vile little rooms without being disgusted by the filth and consoled them, offering them the things that they needed. Thus she laid claim to a threefold reward, that is, for her labor, her compassion, and her generosity. One day in a far-off place she wanted to milk a cow to appease the hunger of a pauper who was asking for milk, but the cow was stubborn and would not tolerate Elizabeth handling it. When, while her husband was still alive, she was already under obedience to Master Conrad, he once summoned her to one of his sermons, but she was not able to come on account of the arrival of the marquise of Meißen.19 Offended, Conrad sent word through a messenger informing her that, due to her disobedience, he would no longer be overseeing her spiritual care. She hastened to him the very next day and humbly begged him to forgive the offense. He did not want to, but when she and her handmaids threw themselves down at his feet, he relented. As punishment, he ordered them to strip down to their shirts and soundly whipped them. 26. At a time of general famine and want, after the landgrave had left for the imperial court in Cremona,20 Elizabeth distributed the crops that had been gathered in her own barns as alms to the poor, donating, over a period of many days, whatever was needed to sustain them. Below the high castle in which Elizabeth lived, 21 there was a large house in which she placed many sick people who could not wait for these general alms. Despite the difficulty of the descent and ascent, she visited them many times each day, consoling them and talking to them about patience and the salvation of the soul. She satisfied the desires of each one in every way, selling her ornaments so that she could support them. Although she had proved incapable of suffering any corruption of the air anywhere else, she tolerated without any signs of disgust—even in summer time—the corruption that came from the sick people there, her handmaids barely putting up with it and doing so sullenly and with grumbling. She cheerfully tended to the people with her own hands

19. Jutta, a stepsister of Ludwig IV of Thuringia. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 259, n. 2. 20. This gathering took place in 1226. Huyskens, Quellenstudien, p. 360, n. 1. 21. That is, the Wartburg Castle outside of Eisenach.

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and, using the veil from her own head, cleaned the saliva and mucus from the faces and the filth from the mouths and noses of the sick. Beyond such sick people she kept many poor children in this same house. She provided for them well, acting so kindly and sweetly around them that they all called her mother. Whenever she entered the house they ran to her and gathered around her. Among these children she especially loved the mangy, the disabled, the weak, the dirty, and the deformed. She laid her hands on their heads and placed them in her lap. Once she bought some little pots and glass rings as well as other pieces of jewelry for the solace of these same children. She was carrying them in her cloak as she rode from the city up toward the castle, when they accidentally fell over the edge of the cliff and landed on the rocks below. Yet even though they fell on the rocks, they were found unbroken and later she was able to distribute them as planned to the children and thus console them.22 27. Beyond those sick ones who belonged to the group23 of poor people who received ordinary alms, she chose others who were even poorer and weaker and gathered them in front of the castle, distributing the leftovers from her table to them with her own hands. Indeed, she deprived herself and her handmaids of a great deal of food so that she could distribute it to the poor. One day, after the distribution of alms, she gave away a small amount of leftover beer that she found in a certain container. But even after she had given some to everyone, the quantity of beer inside the container did not seem to have diminished; just as much remained as there had been before.24 After feeding the multitude in this manner up to the time of the harvest, she then gave shirts to everyone who was able to work, along with shoes, so that their feet would not be bothered by the stalks. She also gave them sickles so that they could bring in the harvest and thus feed themselves from their own labor.25 To those who were too weak to work she gave clothes,26 which she had arranged to be purchased in the market. Joyfully she distributed it all with her own hands, and when she enrolled 27 the paupers, she gave each one something. When she had no money, she gave the poor women veils and silk vestments, telling them: “I do not want you to get used to such luxury; rather, sell these things as your need dictates and work hard.” To one of these women she gave shoes, a shirt, and a surcoat. The woman

22. One of the few references to anything bordering on the miraculous in these depositions. 23. Universitas. This suggests that there was a body of “registered poor,” such as one often finds associated with medieval monasteries, who were officially entitled to charity. 24. Another modest miracle. 25. This “give-away” of farm implements, though not common, was not unprecedented. Bishop Otto of Bamberg did the same in response to the famine of 1125. Ortrud Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, Landgräfin und Heilige: eine Biografie (Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet, 2006), p. 105. 26. Vestiunculas. 27. Licentiavit. See note 23.

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was so excited by this that she fainted and was thought to be on the verge of death, until she shouted out that never before had she experienced such joy. Seeing this, blessed Elizabeth chastised herself for giving the woman so much, fearing for a moment that she had been the cause of her death. 28. While she was still living a life of glory in court, Elizabeth developed a great affinity for mendicancy and frequently discussed poverty with her handmaids. In their presence in the palace she dressed herself in a cheap cloak and, covering her head with a poor piece of cloth, she said: “I will go about this way when I go begging and will undergo misery for the sake of God.” 29. On the feast of the Lord’s Supper28 she always solemnly carried out the mandatum 29 for the poor. One particular Lord’s Supper, she gathered many lepers, washed their feet and hands, and then, after prostrating herself most humbly at their feet, kissed them in the most ulcerous and disgusting places. Wherever she found lepers, she sat next to them, consoling them and exhorting them to patience—no more horrified by them than she was by healthy people—and donating many things to them. Furthermore she avoided superf luity with regard to clothing, by all means abstaining from garments that were too long or too elaborate.30 Occupying herself with works of charity, all of which she performed with great delight in her heart and determination on her face, she had the grace of abundant tears,31 which she shed in a light-hearted way without any change of expression. She did all of these things—as well as many others that Isentrud and Guda did not recollect at that time—while her husband was still alive. She lived with him in marriage in a manner worthy of praise. They loved each other with wonderful affection, sweetly inviting and encouraging each other to praise and serve God. When, due to some temporal necessity, Elizabeth’s husband had to tend to some matter related to their rule, he not only quietly held the fear of God before his eyes, but he gave a free hand to blessed Elizabeth for carrying out everything that pertained to the honor of God, thus contributing to the salvation of her soul. 30. Guda swore that she concurred with Isentrud, having been a member of blessed Elizabeth’s household during the same period of time. 31. (1) After the death of her husband, Elizabeth was expelled from the castle and deprived of her dowry by certain vassals of her husband, the brother

28. Maundy Thursday. 29. The ceremonial washing of the feet of the poor on Maundy Thursday. The word “Maundy” is derived from mandatum. 30. Longis et pretonsis. 31. As Reber explains, this capacity seems to have been part and parcel of the new appreciation for the human Christ and his sufferings that characterized early thirteenth-century piety. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, pp. 80–82. For more on the gratia lacrimarum, see André Vauchez, Sainthood in the Later Middle Ages, trans. Jean Birrell [originally published: La sainteté en Occident aux derniers siècles du Moyen Age (Rome: Ecole française de Rome, 1988)] (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 438–39.

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of her husband being a youth at the time.32 Making her way down to the city33 situated below the castle, she entered a poor house in the courtyard of a certain tavern, in which the innkeeper kept containers and supplies and in which his pigs had slept. There she spent the night in great joy. In the early hours of the morning while it was still dark, she went to the Friars Minor in that town asking that they sing the Te deum laudamus while she rejoiced and gave thanks to the Lord for her tribulation. The following day, when not one of the rich dared to take her in and offer her hospitality, she and her attendants entered a church and there she remained for a long time. When her little ones were brought to her from the castle in the midst of that bitter cold, she did not know where to turn; where to lay down the heads of her children, the very ones to whom the dominion of the same castle pertained by paternal succession. Necessity finally forced her to enter the house of a priest, begging for mercy for herself and for her expelled children. Later she was ordered to reside in the house of a certain rival of hers. There she was compelled to keep herself and her whole family in a tiny space, even though there were many larger rooms there. Because the host and hostess caused her and those who were with her much grief, she left, saying good-bye to the walls that had at least protected her from the cold and rain, saying: “I would gladly express my gratitude to someone, but I would not know for what.” She finally returned to the dirty lodging where she had been in the beginning, unable to find any other place to stay. Suffering persecution for no reason at the hands of her husband’s men and deprived of all her possessions, she was forced by her poverty to send her children away to various remote places so that they would be taken care of. What little she had, she took from her own mouth and gave to the poor. A certain sick old woman, whose outward appearance was consistent with her malady, was a regular recipient of these alms. Once she happened upon blessed Elizabeth—who was on the way to church in a small village—as she was making her way across some stones that had been positioned so as to help people get over the deep mud. Unwilling to yield to blessed Elizabeth, the old woman pushed her into the mud, on account of which she fell and was completely soiled as were all of her clothes. Bearing this patiently, Elizabeth got up laughing and washed her clothes with joy. (2) One day during Lent while kneeling in church, Elizabeth leaned against a wall for a long time and held her eyes fixed on the altar. When she finally returned to her humble lodging, she ate a small amount of food but 32. A reference to Ludwig’s brother and heir, Heinrich Raspe. The implication is that Raspe was not in a position to stand up to Ludwig’s former vassals and defend his sister-in-law’s rights. But the reference to him being a youth is misleading because he (born in 1202) would have been twenty-five at the time of his brother’s death. Matthias Werner (“Elisabeth von Thüringen, Franziskus von Assisi, und Konrad von Marburg,” in Elisabeth von Thüringen, eine Europäische Heilige: Aufsätze, ed. Dieter Blume and Matthias Werner [Petersberg: Michael Imhof Verlag, 2007], p. 123, n. 20) speculates that Isentrud may have been trying to divert attention away from his culpability. If so, Irmgard did not feel the same compunction, as is clear from her assessment of the situation in Dicta 39. 33. Eisenach.

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was still so weak she started to perspire and, leaning against the wall, fell into the arms of Isentrud. After dismissing everyone except for her handmaids, she held her eyes open as she stared at the window. At length she began to laugh sweetly, with a look of great joy on her face. Then, after more than an hour, she closed her eyes and began to shed countless tears. Shortly thereafter she opened her eyes again and began laughing just as she had been before. She lay there like that in contemplation until Compline, sometimes crying with her eyes closed and other times laughing with her eyes open, though she remained in this latter state for much longer periods of time than she did in the former. Finally after she had been silent for a long time, she burst forth with these words: “Lord, you want to be with me and I want to be with you and never do I want to be apart from you.” Isentrud, a noble woman who was closer to Elizabeth than her other attendants were, begged Elizabeth to reveal to her with whom she had spoken. Initially hesitant about responding, blessed Elizabeth was finally overcome by her entreaties, and said: “I saw the heavens open and my Lord sweet Jesus leaned toward me, consoling me about the various afflictions and tribulations that surrounded me. While I gazed at Him, I was delighted and I laughed. But when He turned His face away, as if about to leave, I began to cry. He was merciful to me and again turned His most serene face toward me, saying: ‘If you want to be with me, then I will be with you.’ To which I responded just as was said above.”34 Then Isentrud asked Elizabeth to reveal to her the vision that she had seen in church when the host was being offered, as related above.35 To which blessed Elizabeth responded: “What I saw there would not be expedient to reveal. Suffice it to say that I was overjoyed and saw some marvelous secrets of God.” (3) After this the abbess of Kitzingen in the diocese of Würzburg, who was the maternal aunt of blessed Elizabeth, took pity on her and sent her to the lord bishop of Bamberg, who was blessed Elizabeth’s uncle. He treated her decently enough, but made it clear to blessed Elizabeth that he wanted to give her in marriage to someone else. The handmaids, who had all taken a vow of chastity along with her, feared the power of the bishop and lamented this turn of events with grief and tears. But blessed Elizabeth consoled them, saying: “My faith in the Lord is firm. He knows that the vow that I swore to preserve my chastity after the death of my husband—a vow that I swore while he was still alive—came from a pure and untouched heart. Trusting in his mercy, I know that it would be impossible for Him not to protect my chastity against any plot or act of violence on the part of any man. For when I vowed to remain intact and continent after the death of my husband, I did not do so to please my friends nor did I do it conditionally, until God should reveal

34. An awkward construction created by the scribe’s desire not to repeat what he had reported above despite the fact that he was actually quoting Elizabeth at the time. 35. That is, when Elizabeth’s eyes were fixed on the altar.

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another option to me; I did it absolutely. If my uncle surrenders me to someone against my will, I will resist with my soul and my words and if I have no other way of avoiding it, I will secretly cut off my own nose so that no one will want me, being so grossly mutilated.”36 One day she was taken against her will to a certain castle called Pottenstein to be kept there, as she understood it, until she was betrothed. In tears, she committed her chastity to the Lord in whose care she had placed her heart, and behold! At the disposition of the Lord, the consoler of the afflicted, suddenly a messenger from the bishop arrived ordering her to return to Bamberg to meet the bones of her husband, which were being brought home for burial from regions abroad.37 After the bishop had solemnly received the landgrave’s bones with a procession, Elizabeth said, as she cried: “Lord, thank you for mercifully consoling me with the much desired bones of my husband. You know that no matter how much I loved him—a man whom you also loved—I did not begrudge the sacrifice made by him and by me in support of the Holy Land. But if I could have him back, I would choose him over the entire world, ready to go off begging with him forever.38 But with you as my witness, I would not wish to redeem his life—not even one hair—against your will. Now I commend both of us to your grace: may thy will be done.” Later, after her husbands’ vassals had taken his bones to be buried in the cloister of the monastery of Reinhardsbrunn, Elizabeth returned to Thuringia with those same ones,39 who promised that they would arrange for the recovery of her dowry. For his part the bishop did not want to commit her to those noblemen unless they were careful to arrange for her comfort. Nevertheless, after the burial of her husband, she remained in her former state of mendicancy and want, her comfort neglected by all, until, on the command of Master Conrad, she moved to Marburg. (4) There she dressed in a gray tunic and a cheap and humble habit, while she distributed to the poor on various occasions the almost 2,000 marks that she had received in exchange for her dowry. In fact on one such occasion she handed out 500 marks all at once to a great multitude of paupers! Anything in the way of ornaments that she had brought with her from the house of her father, the king of Hungary—in fact, everything that she had— she distributed to the poor, founding a hospital 40 there in Marburg. She with36. Cutting off the nose was a punishment often inf licted on adulterous women. That association gave Elizabeth’s threat great symbolic significance. Oda of Hainault (d. 1158) actually did cut off her own nose to avoid being married off by her parents. Reber, Elisabeth von Thüringen, p. 135. 37. Ludwig’s vassals, who had proceeded with the Crusade—such as it was—even after their commander’s death, recovered Ludwig’s remains on their way home. They arrived in Bamberg in early 1228. 38. This is consistent with both Elizabeth’s desire to be a mendicant (Dicta 28) and Ludwig’s reported interest in simplifying his life (Dicta 15). 39. That is, her husband’s vassals. 40. The word used for hospital here is hospitale (see also Dicta 37, 42, 43, 63). Elsewhere the word hospitium (hospice) is used instead (e.g., Dicta 34, 35, 38), reminding us that the medieval idea captured by these words encompassed not only assistance to the sick but aid to the poor and pilgrims. At one point the

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stood insults, blasphemy, and contempt from the magnates and the other men of the territory, who wished neither to see her nor to speak with her. Reckoning her to be stupid or insane, 41 they defamed her repeatedly. She bore all of this most patiently, even rejoicing at it, to the point that she was reproached for having so quickly forgotten the death of her husband, rejoicing when she should have been mourning! Because Master Conrad had persuaded her to disdain everything related to her life in this world, she prayed to the Lord, first, that He give her contempt for all temporal things; second, that He remove from her the love that she had for her children; and third, that He inspire her soul to ignore insults. After offering up this prayer, she told her followers: “The Lord heard my prayer and behold! First, I now treat all the worldly possessions that I used to love as if they were dung. 42 Second, with the Lord as my witness, I do not care about my children any more than I care about my neighbors. I have commended them to God; may He do with them whatever is pleasing to Him. And third, I delight in the calumnies, detractions, and contempt that is being directed at me. I love nothing purely but God alone.” (5) Master Conrad repeatedly tested her constancy, breaking her will in every way and ordering her to do things contrary to her nature. With the intention of afflicting her even more, he dismissed one at a time those members of Elizabeth’s household whom she loved, so that she would be grieved. He dismissed me, Isentrud, so beloved by her, and so she sent me away with great heaviness of heart and countless tears. He also drove away Guda, my companion, who had lived with Elizabeth from childhood and whom she especially loved. Elizabeth sent her off as well with tears and sighs. Master Conrad of good memory, 43 motivated by good zeal, did this for the following reason: he was afraid that we would discuss among ourselves something of Elizabeth’s previously held glory and that she would as a result be tempted by it or feel regret for having left it behind. He took away from her all of the human solace that she had in us, wanting her to adhere to God alone. Master Conrad then assigned austere women to her, from whom she sustained many oppressions. In accordance with Master Conrad’s instructions, they acted deceptively44 in

text specifically identifies the types of people that Elizabeth summoned (vocavit) to her hospitium in Marburg: pauperiores, debiliores et infirmiores et magis devotos. It is interesting that neither hospitale nor hospitium is used in the Dicta (26) in reference to the domus (house) below the Wartburg that Elizabeth transformed into a hospice/hospital while her husband was still alive. Conrad, however, did use the term hospitale when referring to it in Summa vitae 1. 41. Compare this with Francis’s treatment at the hands of the citizens of Assisi immediately after his conversion, as described in Celano’s Life of St. Francis 11, in Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, ed. Regis Armstrong, J. A. Wayne Hellmann, and William Short, 3 vols. (New York: New City Press, 1999), p. 1:191. 42. Compare to Francis, as depicted in Thomas of Celano, Life of St. Francis 57, in Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, p. 1:231. 43. Conrad (d. July 30, 1233) had been dead for almost a year and a half by the time these depositions were taken (January 1, 1235). 44. Perhaps by not letting Elizabeth know that they were reporting her actions to Conrad.

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their dealings with her and often brought her to Master Conrad for not maintaining obedience, for instance when she gave something to the poor or begged things from others to be given to the poor. Conrad subsequently forbade her to give anything away, because she would keep nothing for herself, bestowing it all on the poor. As a result of such accusations she sustained many lashes and blows from Master Conrad, which she chose to undergo willingly, being mindful of the buffeting suffered by the Lord. 45 She was obedient to Conrad to the point that she did not dare to give food to us—Isentrud and Guda—when we came to see her, nor did she dare even to speak to us without permission. She bore with patience and joy not only these adversities and the contempt directed toward her, but the many lashes that Master Conrad, in his good zeal, inflicted on her, lest she slip from her purpose. 32. With regard to all of these matters, the pious women Isentrud and Guda, who were close to Elizabeth during the time when her husband the landgrave was still alive, were in complete agreement, speaking under oath. 33. Questioned one at a time, they were asked how they knew all of this, and they responded that they were both present when these things occurred and that they had witnessed them, having lived with blessed Elizabeth for many years. 34. Elizabeth, a former handmaid of blessed Elizabeth the landgravine of Thuringia, was interrogated under oath about the life and conduct of blessed Elizabeth. She said that after she put on the gray habit, she was with her for a long time and witnessed a great many works of charity in her. She also said that Elizabeth was extremely humble. She summoned to her hospital—where she resided in the town of Marburg—the poor, the weak and sick, and the especially devout, all of whom she ministered to in person. She prepared food along with the handmaids—who were also devoted to God and dressed in the gray habit—and ministered to the poor who stayed in her hospital, bathing them, laying them down on beds, and covering them up. There was one particular boy whom she had in the hospital with her who had only one eye and who was completely mangy. Among the other acts of humanity that she showed him, she carried him outside46 as often as nature required. 35. Irmgard, a pious woman dressed in the gray habit and a former handmaid to the blessed Elizabeth, was questioned under oath. She said that once blessed Elizabeth donned the gray habit, she became accustomed to keeping poor people in her hospital in the town of Marburg and personally ministering to them. Outside of her hospital, she offered rewards to people who procured poor people for her, secretly selling her gold rings and silk robes and other ornaments so that she could minister to the poor.

45. Matthew 26:67. 46. To relieve himself.

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36. She also said that Elizabeth used to carry a certain one-eyed, mangy boy outside six times in one night as nature required. Taking him back to his bed and covering him up, she herself washed this boy’s soiled rags, and spoke to him, soothing him with great joy. 47 37. She also said that after Elizabeth had established the hospital at Marburg, she herself worked there, bathing the sick, laying them down on beds, and covering them up. On one occasion she tore up a linen curtain, the kind that often adorned houses, and laid the pieces of cloth over the newly bathed paupers. As she covered them, she said: “What a good thing it is for us to bathe and cover our Lord this way!” Her handmaid responded: “For us it is good that we do things of this sort, but I do not know if it would seem that way to others.” 38. She also said that in the hospital Elizabeth took care of a certain woman who was fetid, leprous, and covered with sores and pus, whom anyone else would have abhorred even from a distance. 48 Elizabeth bathed her, covered her, and tied strips of cloth on her sores, nurturing her with treatments. Prostrating herself in front of her, she untied her shoes, wanting to take them off, but the leprous woman would not permit her to do this, insisting on doing it herself. She trimmed the nails on her hands and feet and touched her ulcerous face with her hand; and the woman was actually healed for a time. Elizabeth placed her at one end of the courtyard and frequently visited her. Whenever that little woman requested care from her, Elizabeth would rejoice with her, lay her down in bed, and console her by speaking most sweetly to her. Whatever the paupers wanted, Elizabeth diligently provided them with it. 39. She regularly exhorted people not to neglect the baptism of their children. She also encouraged the sick to go to confession so that they could participate in communion. On one occasion, she admonished an old poor woman, trying to get her to go to confession. Making no headway with the woman, who just lay there sluggish and indolent paying no attention to her, Elizabeth actually beat her with rods and thus compelled her to go to confession against her will. For some time after the death of her husband, blessed Elizabeth was not permitted to make use of his property, hindered as she was by his brother. She was entitled to receive sustenance from her husband’s brother, but she did not want to have any food that had been secured through plunder or the taxing of the poor, as was most often the case in the courts of the princes. So she chose to be humble and acquire food by the labor of her own hands or like someone seeking alms. 49 As many know, she obtained her food using the small amount of money that she earned for spinning the wool that was sent to her by the

47. The handmaid Elizabeth referred to the same boy in her testimony: Dicta 34. 48. Thomas of Celano reports that Francis had this same reaction to lepers before his conversion. Thomas of Celano, Life of St. Francis 17, in Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, p. 1:195. 49. Velud questionaria.

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monastery in Altenberg.50 She also used some of the coins that she earned from her manual labor to make offerings at the altar. 40. Irmgard said that often, when Elizabeth was not well and was lying in bed, she would spin wool—she did not know how to spin flax. Whenever Irmgard took the spindle from Elizabeth’s hands so as to spare her, she would begin to pull and card the wool with her bare hands, thus preparing it for future use. She did this so that she would not seem to be in the least bit lazy. During this same time she arranged for some large fish—sent to her by Brother Henry—to be sold so that she might buy some things that she needed with the money. Brother Henry was, by the way, the son of the count of Weibach and had been a hermit but then later became a brother in the order of the Friars Minor. On another occasion the king of Hungary, that is, the father of the blessed Elizabeth, sent a count by the name of Paviam with a great retinue to escort his daughter back to his realm, for he had heard that she was living like a beggar woman, destitute of all solace. Coming to the town of Marburg, this same count found Elizabeth sitting at her spindle spinning wool. Blessing himself in admiration, he said: “Never before has the daughter of a king been seen spinning wool.” Since she was striving for poverty and exile in every possible way, she could not be persuaded to return with her father’s messengers to the land of her birth. She had a gray cloak, which was short but which she had lengthened with cloth of another color. It had sleeves that had been torn from a tunic, repaired in a similar way with cloth of a different color. During winter when she did not have sufficient clothing, she positioned herself between two ticks laying side by side, placing herself right on the ground. “It is as if I am lying in a tomb,” she said. She was overjoyed in her tribulation. Blessed Elizabeth was once summoned by the abbess of Kitzingen—her maternal aunt—who, after she had arrived, compelled her to take a bath. Elizabeth stepped into the bath, made noise with one of her feet by moving the water back and forth, and said: “This one is bathed.”51 Then she immediately left the tub. Once during the time when blessed Elizabeth was insisting on securing her own food through manual labor, she was summoned by Master Conrad to come from Marburg to Eisenach. Because she had received money in advance for the wool that Conrad’s summons prevented her from spinning, she sent back to the monastery one Cologne denarius along with the wool that had yet to be spun. She did not want to keep anything beyond what was owed to her, and that included what she had yet to earn through her own labor. 41. Elizabeth, the handmaid of blessed Elizabeth, said under oath that a noble woman by the name of Gertrude of Leimbach once came to visit the

50. The Premonstratensian abbey of Altenberg near Wetzlar on the Lahn River. 51. Elizabeth was being deliberately vague about what she meant by “this one,” leading her aunt to believe that the bath had been used for more than just her foot.

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blessed Elizabeth. With Gertrude came a young man by the name of Bertold who was dressed in a worldly manner. Calling him to her, Elizabeth said: “You seem to be living your life less discreetly than you ought to. Why do you not serve the Creator?” The youth responded: “O my lady, I beg you, pray for me, so that the Lord will give me His grace for serving Him.” And she said: “Do you really want me to pray for you?” And he said: “I most certainly do.” And she said: “It is fitting that you prepare yourself for receiving this grace by praying, while I pray for you at the same time.” Falling to her knees (as she was accustomed to doing) in an appropriate place within the monastery of Werde, where she was at the time, Elizabeth began to pray most intently for the youth. Meanwhile the youth found a place to pray some distance away in the same monastery. After both of them had persisted in their prayers for some time, the youth began to shout: “O my lady, my lady, stop praying!” But she continued with even greater zeal. After a while the youth began to call out even more loudly, saying: “O my lady, stop your praying, for I am growing weak.” Indeed, the youth was burning up with heat, perspiring, even steaming, as he threw his arms and his entire body about here and there as if he were demented. The lady who had come with this same young man, as well as Elizabeth (the handmaiden of blessed Elizabeth), and Irmgard—who testified to the same events under oath—all rushed in and held him; and they found him—as Lady Elizabeth herself said they would—to be hot to the touch with his clothes drenched in sweat. After repeatedly shouting, the youth finally said: “In the name of the Lord I beg you to stop praying because I am being consumed by fire.” Indeed, those who were holding him could barely stand the heat on their hands. As soon as Elizabeth stopped praying, the youth felt better. This happened a year before the death of blessed Elizabeth. Right after she died, the youth entered the Order of the Friars Minor. The handmaid Elizabeth said that this kind of thing happened frequently to those on whose behalf blessed Elizabeth prayed. 42. When after her period of great poverty Elizabeth received a great sum of money from her dowry, she summoned all the poor and the infirm within a twelve-mile radius of Marburg to a certain place on a certain day, ordering 500 marks to be distributed to them all at once. With an eye to doing this in an efficient and orderly fashion, blessed Elizabeth girded herself up and, surrounded by poor people, went about and asked the people to sit so that, passing among them, she could minister to them in imitation of the Lord. She established and then announced a rule: that any who moved from their places with the intention of collecting alms a second time, thus putting the others at a disadvantage and compromising her system of distribution, would have their hair cut off so as to prevent them from cheating again. Unaware of this rule, a certain young woman with very beautiful hair by the name of Hildegund came forward all of a sudden, not to get alms but

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to visit her sick sister. She was taken to blessed Elizabeth for having violated the rule, all the while wondering what she had done wrong. Seeing her beautiful hair, Elizabeth ordered it to be cut off immediately. Once she had lost her beautiful hair, the virgin began to wail in a loud voice. Then others who knew that she was innocent approached blessed Elizabeth and told her that the young woman had been punished unfairly. Elizabeth responded: “At least with her hair like it is now she will frequent fewer dances.” Elizabeth then ordered the girl brought back to her right away and asked her whether she had ever considered living a better life. The girl responded that if the beauty of her hair had not stood in her way, she would have long since begun serving the Lord in a religious habit. Blessed Elizabeth then said to her: “You losing your hair is more precious to me that my son becoming emperor.” And Elizabeth received her at once to serve in the hospital for all the remaining days of her life, and so the girl donned the religious habit. She is, in fact, still there today serving in the hospital at Marburg. We even saw the marvelous hair that had been cut off. Hildegund said these things under oath; and a parish priest from the city and many others bore witness along with her to the same thing. 43. The moonlit evening after Elizabeth had distributed that great quantity of alms, many feeble and sick people remained lying next to the hospital fence and in the corners of the courtyard after the more able poor had departed. When the blessed Elizabeth entered the courtyard and saw them, she said to her companions: “Behold the weaker ones are still here; let us give them a little more.” And she ordered six Cologne denarii to be given to each, making sure that the children among them received no less. Afterward she arranged for bread to be taken out to them and distributed. When this had been done, she said: “I want to fill them with joy. Let’s build a fire for them.” So she ordered a fire to be built and many feet to be washed and anointed. Feeling better, the poor people began to sing. Hearing them, blessed Elizabeth said: “See? I told you we should make these people happy!”52 And she was herself overjoyed along with the happy poor people. 44. The handmaid Elizabeth said under oath that when blessed Elizabeth was in the town of Werden, a certain poor woman there was about to give birth. Because the hospital of that place was too far away, blessed Elizabeth arranged for the woman to be provided for in the barn next to her house. Specifically she had a fireplace built there and provided a mattress and bedding sufficient to cover the woman. After the woman had given birth, Elizabeth arranged for the boy to be baptized and gave him her own name as a baptismal name. Every day for about four weeks Elizabeth visited the woman, blessed her, and provided for her. But the poor woman was not appreciative of this kindness. When she

52. Romans 12:15.

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had received permission from her lady,53 and blessed Elizabeth had provided her with a cloak, the shoes from her own feet, twelve Cologne denarii, robes, flour and lard, even the sleeves from a leather garment worn by her handmaid Elizabeth so that they could be used to swaddle the child, the woman took off in the middle of the night with her man—to whom Elizabeth had given a pair of shoes—leaving the child behind in the hospital!54 In the morning before Matins, when blessed Elizabeth was in church, she called her handmaid Elizabeth and said: “I have some things in my purse that the poor woman and her child might be able to use. Go and take them to them.” But when the handmaid got to the hospital where she expected to find the poor woman, she discovered that the woman had gone and left the child there. The handmaid returned and reported this to blessed Elizabeth, who responded: “Go quickly and bring me the child so that it suffers no neglect.” Once the child had been brought to her, she committed it to the care of the wife of a knight in the same village. Elizabeth immediately summoned the judge of the city so that he would send out messengers in all directions along all the roads in search of the child’s mother. But the messengers returned after a short time, having found nothing. The handmaid Elizabeth reported this to blessed Elizabeth and begged her to pray that the Lord reveal to her the whereabouts of the child’s mother, fearing that Master Conrad would be upset about this. Elizabeth responded: “I do not know what to ask from the Lord, except that His will be done.” After an hour the husband of that poor woman returned and, prostrating himself in front of Elizabeth, openly confessed that, try as he might, he had been unable to go any further with his wife, and so had returned as if forced to do so. Asked where his wife was, he revealed her precise location. Messengers were sent and they led the woman back. She confessed to having experienced the same thing as he: that suddenly she had found herself unable to go any further. Now she sought mercy for her great offense and ingratitude. Those who were present judged her worthy of being deprived of the cloak and the shoes on account of her ingratitude. They thought these things ought to be given to others, lest someone with a bad reputation be allowed to use of Elizabeth’s cloak and other things. Blessed Elizabeth said: “Do what seems right to you.” The cloak was taken away from the woman and given to a certain devout virgin in the village, who immediately vowed her chastity to the Lord and swore to serve Him in a religious habit. The shoes were given to a widow. Taking pity on the poor woman, blessed Elizabeth ordered that she be given fur garments and another pair of shoes. Taking up the child that she had so reprehensibly left behind, the woman departed. 53. Presumably domina refers to the lady to whom the new mother owed service. Though the text is not clear on this point, the woman seems to have sought her lady’s permission to leave. This would explain Elizabeth’s gifts of clothing and provisions. 54. This must be a reference to the hospitium of Werden, where the poor woman seems to have stayed after the birth of her child.

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45. Irmgard said that she once heard blessed Elizabeth say the following: “The life of the sisters in this world55 is the most despised of all. If there were a life that was more despised, I would choose it. I could have sworn obedience to a bishop or an abbot who had possessions, but I thought it better to swear obedience to Master Conrad, who has nothing and relies totally on begging, so that I would have no consolation in this life.” 46. She also said that blessed Elizabeth used to fear Master Conrad a great deal, as if he were God, saying: “If I fear a mortal man this much, how much more to be feared is the omnipotent Lord, who is the lord and judge of all things?” 47. Irmgard said that Master Conrad once ordered blessed Elizabeth to come to Altenberg so that he could discuss with her whether she should be placed in a cell.56 The ladies who were there asked Master Conrad to give permission to blessed Elizabeth to enter the cloister upon her arrival so that they could see her. Master Conrad responded: “She may enter, if she wishes,” confident that she would not. But Elizabeth, taking Master Conrad at his word, did enter, thinking that she had permission to do so.57 When Master Conrad found out, he summoned blessed Elizabeth and accused her of a breach of contract, showing her the document by which she had sworn to remain under his command, making it clear that she was subject to excommunication for having entered the cloister. Because Sister Irmgard had been responsible for getting the key and opening the door to the cloister—though she had not entered with Elizabeth—Master Conrad had her prostrate herself alongside blessed Elizabeth and ordered Brother Gerhard to beat them hard with a certain kind of whip that was big and long. While Gerhard beat them, Master Conrad sang the Miserere mei Deus.58 48. Irmgard said that the marks from that whipping were still visible three weeks later. Those on blessed Elizabeth, who had been beaten more severely, lasted even longer. 49. Irmgard said that after Elizabeth had been subjected to this punishment, she heard her say the following: “We should be willing to undergo such 55. The wording (vita sororum in seculo despectissima est) suggests that Elizabeth thought of her little community in Marburg as one of nuns living in the world rather than retreating from it. 56. That is, whether she ought to be moved to a cloister to live as a nun. This is consistent with Elizabeth’s conversation with Conrad after the death of her husband. Conrad, Summa vitae 2. It is also consistent with the decision to confine Elizabeth’s mother-in-law Sophia to St. Catherine’s in Eisenach after the death of the landgrave Hermann. 57. Altenberg was the convent that housed Elizabeth’s daughter Gertrude, in accordance with a vow that Elizabeth and Ludwig supposedly made on the eve of the landgrave’s departure on Crusade. The chance to see her daughter may have been irresistable to Elizabeth even though she had worked so hard with Conrad to distance herself from such affective, worldly bonds. Hence the severity of her punishment. Anja Petrakopoulos, “Sanctity and Motherhood: Elizabeth of Thuringia,” in Sanctity and Motherhood: Essays on Holy Mothers in the Middle Ages, ed. Anneke B. Mulder-Bakker (Garland reference library of the humanities; vol. 1767. Garland medieval casebooks; vol. 14) (New York: Garland, 1995), p. 284. 58. Psalm 51 (which begins “Have mercy on me, God”) was widely used for penitential purposes.

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things because as it is for the grass that grows in the river, so it is for us. For the grass is bent over and pressed down by the flow of the river, yet the water passes right through the grass without doing any injury to it. Then when the current stops, the grass stands up straight and grows joyfully and delightfully from its own vigor. In the same way, it is right for us to be bent and humbled sometimes so that afterward we might stand up straight with joy and delight.” 50. Irmgard also said, with regard to blessed Elizabeth, that she was so discreet that she sought out a doctor to put her on a diet so that she would not end up depriving herself too much and incur some illness as a result of her extreme deprivation, an illness that might in turn prevent her from performing her service to God and thus make her have to answer to God for her excessive abstinence. 51. She did not want to be called lady by those of her handmaids who were poor and ignoble. Moreover she wanted to be addressed only in the singular: “You [tu], Elizabeth.”59 She also made her handmaids sit at her side and eat from her plate. On one occasion her handmaid Irmgard said: “You [vos], my lady, earn merit for yourself from us but you don’t seem to be concerned about our plight; that is, that we are exalted by sitting with you at your table!” To this blessed Elizabeth said: “Look, it would be appropriate for you to sit in my lap”; and she made Irmgard sit in her lap.60 52. Irmgard also said that blessed Elizabeth washed their pots, bowls, and plates and frequently sent her handmaids away lest they prevent her from doing such things. Returning, they would often find her still washing bowls and other things. If not, they were already all clean.61 Blessed Elizabeth also went with her handmaids to the houses of the poor, making them carry bread and meat and flour and other food items to be given to the poor. These she distributed with her own hands. She diligently inspected the clothing and the beds of the poor people and then, returning home, applied herself even more devoutly to prayer. She was accustomed to honor the relics of the saints most devoutly by burning incense and candles. 53. It was her habit to give a great deal to paupers all at once. When Master Conrad ordered her not to give more than one denarius at a time to any one pauper, she strove to dispense, one coin at a time, the same amount that she was no longer permitted to hand over all at once! When Master Conrad realized 59. That is, she preferred the familiar tu over the formal vos. Assuming that these conversations were taking place in some form of German, she would have told Irmgard to refer to her as Du rather than Sie. 60. Elizabeth clearly missed the point of Irmgard’s observation: that if sitting with her ignoble handmaids helped Elizabeth humble herself, did it not follow that sitting with Elizabeth would have the opposite effect on the lowborn? 61. For other contemporary examples of noble or wealthy women engaged in such menial tasks for spiritual reasons, see Lori Pieper, “St. Elizabeth of Hungary and the Franciscan Tradition,” PhD dissertation, Fordham University, New York, 2002, pp. 229–30.

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what she was doing, he ordered her not to give away the remaining denarii, but to give away bread instead. She began dispensing multiple loaves of bread62 just as she had before with the coins. So he ordered her to give away only pieces of bread. She was obedient in all things and always most ready to obey. On one occasion, when she was on the way to visit a certain hermit,63 Master Conrad ordered her to come back. She said to the messenger: “During the rainy season tortoises draw back into their shells. In the same way we turn back, out of obedience, from the road that we are following.” 54. Blessed Elizabeth ordered her child—who was a year and a half old at the time—to be taken from her lest she love it too much and be impeded by that love in the service of God. 55. Irmgard said concerning blessed Elizabeth that it was when she was the happiest that she cried the most; in other words—wonderful to relate!— she would rejoice and cry at the same time. And when she cried she would never alter her face with wrinkles or any kind of contortion; instead her tears would flow as if from a fountain while her face remained serene and joyful. With regard to those who would contort their faces when they cried, she said: “It seems as if they want to frighten the Lord; let them give to God what they have with joy and delight.” 56. Once when she came to a certain cloister of monks who had no possessions and who fed themselves only from daily alms,64 she was shown the sumptuous gilded sculptures in their church. She said to the approximately two dozen monks who were standing near her: “Look, it would be better to invest this revenue in your clothing and food than in your walls, because you ought to carry such images as these only in your hearts.” When one of them said, with regard to a particularly beautiful image, that it suited her well, she responded: “I have no need of such an image because I carry it in my heart.” 57. She was joyful, extremely happy, and most patient in the midst of tribulation to the point that she never seemed to be bothered. She could not tolerate anyone speaking idle words or words of anger in her presence without immediately asking: “Where is the Lord now?” 58. And although we might have had many things put in writing concerning her life, sanctity, humility, patience, and discretion, things which we learned from those who were with her, we have opted to avoid prolixity and now say something about blessed Elizabeth’s death. Elizabeth, the handmaid of the lady landgravine, said: “When my lady blessed Elizabeth lay on her deathbed,

62. Literally, panes multiplicavit, suggesting parallels to Jesus and the multiplication of the loaves. 63. This opportunity to benefit from the wisdom of a holy man would have been something that Elizabeth looked forward to. Having to turn back would have been a sacrifice. 64. Ad claustrum religiosorum qui possessiones non habebant sed tantum elemosinis cottidianis vescebantur. Scholars, like Werner, have speculated that this is a reference to the local Franciscan house that Elizabeth had helped found, and that this passage constitutes an early critique of the order’s growing laxity in the wake of Francis’s death. Werner, “Elisabeth von Thüringen,” p. 112.

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I heard the sweetest voice, which seemed to come from within her sweet neck as she lay facing the wall. After an hour she turned and said to me: “Where are you, my beloved?” I responded: “Here I am,” and then I added: “Oh my lady! You were singing so sweetly!” She asked me if I had heard the singing and I said that I had. She said: “I tell you, a little bird situated between me and the wall was singing most joyfully to me. Inspired by its voice, it seemed fitting for me to sing along.” This happened only a few days before her death. 59. The same handmaid said: “My lady blessed Elizabeth always spoke to us handmaids with words full of joy, calling us her loved ones and her friends.”65 60. While we were sitting around blessed Elizabeth, who lay there at the very end of her life, she said to us: “What would we do if the devil revealed himself to us?” A short time later, she said in a loud voice, as if chasing away a demon: “Flee, flee, flee!” And she added: “Now let us speak about God and the child Jesus, because now it’s midnight, when Jesus was born and rested in the manger and created a new star with His great power, a star which no one had ever seen before.”66 And she remained most joyful, speaking about such things, as if she were not even sick. And she said: “Although I am weak, I do not feel ill.”67 61. The handmaid Irmgard said that she heard blessed Elizabeth before her death say: “Now the time is upon us when omnipotent God will summon those who are His friends.” And Irmgard said that all that day—that is, the one right before her death—Elizabeth was most devout. In the hour of her death, she lay there as if she were sleeping and then finally breathed her last. 62. Although the body of blessed Elizabeth lay unburied for four days from the time of her death, no fetid smell emanated from it as would normally have come from the bodies of the dead. Instead, hers had an aromatic odor which seemed to warm the spirit. Her body was dressed in her gray tunic and her face was wrapped around with cloth. Many, burning with devotion, cut or tore off pieces of cloth. Some cut the hair from her head or pieces of her nails. One even cut off her ears and another the nipples of her breasts to keep as relics.68 The grief of the poor who rushed to her, the audible sorrow stemming from the death of one who had distinguished herself as a mother to all, was so great that it is difficult to describe their pain and their behavior. When the vigils had been pronounced, the abbess of Wetter, who was present at the time, heard birds singing most joyfully. Wondering where they were, she left

65. Given the use of dilecta (“beloved”) in the previous paragraph, this may have been an answer to a follow-up question from one of the members of the papal commission. 66. Matthew 2:9. 67. Literally, “I do not feel any disease.” 68. Vauchez, Sainthood, p. 430. Pierre-André Sigal, L’homme et le miracle dans la France médiévale, XI-XIIème siècles (Paris: Cerf, 1985), p. 36.

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the church and saw many birds gathered on its roof, as if they were performing funeral rites. And she heard them sing in various ways. 63. Although we could have written much more—both things that we saw ourselves and things that we learned from others—about Elizabeth’s life, her manner of living, her devotion, her hospital in Marburg and her noble efforts to gather the poor and infirm there, in an effort to avoid being verbose, we have recorded only some of these things.

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Index

Alexander III, pope, 4 Altenberg, abbey, 64, 73, 208, 212 Andrew II, king of Hungary, ix, 193, 204, 208 asceticism, 195 Bamberg, bishop of, 203 Beatrice, queen of Castile, 12 begging, 46, 58, 66, 68–71, 74, 77, 92–93, 100, 130, 196, 201–202, 204, 212 beguines, 55, 62–71, 79 Belgium, 62, 64, 66, 69 Bertachar, king of Thuringia, 56 Bertold, 70, 209 canonization, x, 3–7, 10–11, 14, 17, 27, 41, 43, 53–54, 66–67, 69, 73, 78, 89 preliminary commission (1232), x, 5–10, 45, 50, 83–89, 91–92 first papal commission (1233), x, 10–11, 13–41, 45, 50, 97–167 second papal commission (1235), x, 11–14, 19–26, 28–32, 34–38, 40–41, 52–55, 58–59, 61–62, 66, 67, 72, 74, 78, 169–191 Caesar of Speyer, 68 Caesarius of Heisterbach, 7, 11–12, 37, 40, 43, 54, 62, 74–77

charity, 36, 39, 47, 57–58, 60, 62–63, 65–66, 71, 73, 78, 92–94, 194–195 198–202, 204–207, 209–211, 213–214 Cistercians, 6, 12, 50, 52, 83, 95, 97, 118, 169, 170, 172, 187 Clare, of Assisi, St., 67, 69, 78, 79 Clothar, king of the Franks, 56 Conrad, brother of Ludwig IV, 10–12, 86 Conrad, bishop of Hildesheim, 12–13, 21, 51, 75, 169, 171 Conrad of Marburg, ix–x, 5–14, 19–21, 24–25, 27, 31–32, 45–55, 60–61, 64–79, 83–88, 91, 97–99, 101, 142, 144–145, 164, 172, 180, 184–185, 187, 195–196, 198–199, 204–206, 208, 211–214 cult, 31–32, 180, 184–185, 187 death, 11, 31, 55, 72, 74 Summa vitae, 45–52, 54, 58, 60, 67, 69, 71, 76–78, 83, 91–95, 98, 205, 212 conversus, 20, 35, 52, 86, 93, 118, 120–121, 154, 171, 185–186 Crafto, 9, 20, 35, 84–85, 110, 142, 145, 179 crusade, x, 6, 45, 68, 73, 75–77, 204, 212

228

INDE X

cures blindness, 8, 11–12, 15–16, 19, 22–24, 31, 34–35, 37, 40, 84–88, 98–99, 105, 113–114, 116, 118–119, 123–124, 128, 131–132, 148–149, 154–158, 160–162, 166, 174–175, 178, 180, 184, 187, 189, 191 cancer, 38, 159 deafness, 8, 52, 85, 86, 128 demonic possession, 23, 112, 164, 178 dropsy, 8, 10, 17, 22, 40, 85, 142–143, 146, 165, 190 epilepsy, 8, 12, 15–16, 19, 22, 28, 32–34, 38, 88, 114–115, 120–122, 126–127, 134, 148, 150–151, 170–171, 173, 189 fistulas, 8, 11, 17, 22, 29, 84, 88, 106, 149, 152–153, 159, 176, 190 humpback, 8, 12, 22, 28, 30, 41, 84, 85, 87, 100, 103, 114, 117, 121, 130, 134–135, 140–141, 144–146, 149, 152–153, 158, 160, 167, 175, 188–190 insanity, 18, 23, 36, 84, 86, 87, 111, 117, 151, 163 immobility, 8–11, 16, 18–20, 23, 24, 28, 30, 31, 34–36, 38, 40, 41, 78, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 99, 101–102, 108, 110, 113, 117–118, 120–121, 126–128, 130, 132, 135, 137–140, 143–144, 149, 152–153, 155–156, 158, 160, 162–163, 176, 178–179, 185–188, 190 muteness, 8, 22, 28, 34, 84, 87, 113, 115, 139, 155, 158, 190 scrofula, 22, 84, 100–101, 114, 134–135, 140, 166–167, 188 custos, 19–21, 31, 35, 37, 68, 120–121, 144–145 Dicta quatuor ancillarum, 51–77, 193–216 Dietrich of Apolda, 51 diseases (see also cures)8–9, 22–23, 47–48, 50, 57, 59, 70, 74, 84–88, 98–167, 170–191, 195, 200–201, 207 Dominic de Guzmán, St., 7 dowry, 49, 65, 66, 72, 93, 196, 201, 204, 209 Eisenach, ix, x, 31, 47, 49, 60, 61, 67–68, 72, 76, 196, 199, 202, 208, 212 Elizabeth, St. childhood, ix, 46, 53, 61, 193–195

death, x, 7, 32, 34, 36, 42, 44–46, 50, 63, 70, 73, 94–95, 214–216 life, ix–x, 91–95, 193–214 marriage, 45–46, 60–61, 92, 154, 196–198, 201, 203–204 relics, 5–6, 9, 16, 31, 34–35, 44, 50, 85, 91, 95, 98, 103, 125, 142, 144, 160, 179, 215 tomb, x, 5, 7–9, 13, 16, 18, 19–20, 23–38, 40–41, 44, 45, 83–88, 95, 97–167, 169–187 translatio, x, 7, 54, 74 Elizabeth, handmaid, x, 52, 70, 84, 88, 121, 206–211, 214–215 Forma de statu mortis, 45, 78 Francis of Assisi, St., 31, 55, 64–65, 67, 69–71, 73–74, 76, 79, 109, 160, 175, 177, 205, 207, 214 Franciscans, x, 6–7, 46, 49, 51, 61–62, 64–65, 67–71, 72, 74–76, 78, 79, 83, 93, 140, 213–214 Frederick II, emperor, x, 75, 92, 199 Fulk of Neuilly, 75 Germany, 6–7, 17, 31, 47, 62, 66, 68, 74–75, 83, 88, 92, 184 Gertrude of Andechs-Meran, mother of Elizabeth, ix Gertrude, daughter of Elizabeth, ix, 73, 212 God, 3–5, 20, 30, 33, 43–44, 50, 52, 54, 57, 60, 70, 71, 78, 87, 89, 94, 97–102, 104, 129, 133, 139, 144–45, 149, 152, 164, 176, 181–182, 186, 193–195, 198, 201, 203, 205–206, 212–215 Gregory IX, pope, x, 4–7, 10, 12–14, 45–47, 50, 62, 67, 69, 73, 75, 76, 83, 91, 97, 169 Gregory of Tours, 56 Grundmann, Herbert, 78 Guda, handmaid, x, 51–53, 55, 61, 93, 193, 195, 201, 205–206 Hadewych, List of the Perfect, 67 hagiography, 17, 43, 44, 46, 53–56, 61, 62, 63, 66, 74, 78 handmaids, x, xi, 19, 42, 51–55, 57–59, 61–63, 65–67, 70–74, 77–79, 193, 195, 197–200, 203, 206–211, 213–215 healings. See miracles

INDE X

Hedwig of Silesia, St., ix, 4, 58, 67 Heinrich Raspe, brother of Ludwig IV, 10, 12, 72, 202 Henry of Sayn, count, 7 heresy 6–7, 31, 67, 74–76, 83, 89, 109–110, 188 Hermann I, landgrave of Thuringia, ix, 5, 212 Hermann, son of Elizabeth, ix, 51, 72–73 Hermann, abbot of Georgenthal, 12, 51, 169, 187 Hermann of Salza, 11–12, 187 Hesse, xi, 5, 64, 72 Hildegund, 52, 70, 209–210 Homobonus of Cremona, St., 3 Honorius III, pope, 7, 62, 75 Hospital Eisenach, x, 47, 60, 92 Gotha, 51 Marburg, x, 4–5, 9, 11, 19–21, 31, 37, 45, 48, 52, 59, 66–67, 69–72, 74, 76, 78, 84–85, 87, 93, 95, 98, 100, 110, 113–114, 123, 125–126, 132, 141–142, 144–145, 161, 170, 173–175, 204–207, 210–211, 216 Hungary, ix, 4–6, 51, 61, 64, 193, 204, 208 Ida of Louvain, 63–66 Ida of Nivelles, 63–66 Innocent III, pope, 3–5, 7, 67, 74–75 Innocent IV, pope, 14 inquisition, 7 intercession, x–xi, 4–5, 7, 12, 14, 21, 26–34, 36, 39, 40–42, 43–44, 50, 97, 105–106, 125, 131–135, 138, 153, 159, 179, 183–184 Irmgard, handmaid, x, 52–53, 55, 60, 64–65, 68, 72, 77, 121, 144–145, 193, 202, 206, 208–209, 212–215 Isentrud, handmaid, x, 51–53, 55, 58, 60–61, 65–67, 70–74, 77, 78, 93, 193, 195–197, 201–203, 205–206 Jacques de Vitry, 6, 61–63, 65, 71, 75, 194 Jesus Christ, 4, 6, 23, 30, 39, 44, 49, 58, 73, 93, 95, 101, 144, 201, 203, 214–215 Jordan of Giano, 62, 68–69, 76–77 Juetta of Huy, 63

229

Kitzingen, abbess, of 203 knights, 9, 20, 24, 38, 66, 85–86, 99, 102–104, 110–111, 133, 136–137, 139, 153, 160–161, 180, 188, 196, 211 lepers, x, 32, 48, 58–60, 64–65, 69, 76, 79, 94, 195, 201, 207 Ludwig IV, landgrave of Thuringia, ix, x, 5, 45–47, 51, 60, 61, 64–66, 68, 71–72, 75–79, 92–93, 154, 185, 195–199, 204, 206, 212 manual labor, 51, 56, 62–65, 69, 71, 79, 208 Marburg, x, 5, 8, 10–13, 16, 18, 24–26, 28–38, 40–41, 45–46, 48, 49, 52, 53–54, 59, 63, 66, 67, 69–70, 72–74, 78, 93, 95, 97–101, 103, 110, 113, 124–125, 127, 133, 141–142, 144–148, 153–154, 156, 160, 163–164, 168–179, 181–182, 184–185, 187, 204–210, 212, 216 Marie d’Oignies, 6, 51, 61–63, 65–66, 71, 194 mendicancy. See begging Minnesang, 45, 154 miracles, x, 3–8, 14–42, 43–46, 48, 50, 52–53, 59–60, 83–89, 91, 97–167, 169–191, 200 age of recipient, 9, 19–20 gender, 9, 19 geographical distribution, 8, 24–25 maladies, 8–9, 22–23 social class, 9, 20–21 timing, 7–8, 23–24 raised from dead, 9, 22–23, 27, 31, 34, 85–88, 99–100, 104–106, 109, 118, 129–131, 180, 184, 188 Nicholas, St. 30–31, 35, 108, 179 offerings, ex voto, 15, 29, 33–34, 36–41, 44, 99–100, 102–103, 105–107, 109–117, 119–126, 128–129, 131–139, 141, 143–144, 146–150, 152–154, 156, 158–159, 161–166, 171, 175, 177, 182–183, 208 Otranto, ix papacy, 4, 6, 7, 10–11, 13–14, 21, 31, 45–46, 50–51, 53–55, 62, 67, 73–75, 79, 169, 172, 186–187, 197

230

INDE X

patronage, 38–40, 44, 68, 185 poverty and mendicancy, 21, 41, 48–49, 51, 56–60, 61–62, 64–65, 67, 69, 70–73, 76–78, 92–93, 95, 109, 124, 131, 163, 171, 194, 198–200, 201–202, 204, 206–211, 212, 215–216 preaching, 45, 48, 50, 67, 70–71, 74–77, 83, 88, 91, 97–99, 101, 109, 139, 142, 144–145, 198–199 Premonstratensians, 6, 63, 64, 74, 83, 208

Speisegebot, 65–66, 71–72, 76–77, 196–197, 207 Teutonic Knights, 10–12, 20, 54, 69, 72, 177, 186–187 Thuringia, ix, xi, 7, 12–13, 19, 31, 51, 53, 56, 63–64, 67–69, 72, 74–77, 83, 91, 169, 185, 193, 199, 204, 206, 212

Radegund, Queen, 55–61, 66, 69, 79 Raimund, Abbot of Eberbach, 10, 13, 97, 172, 187–191 Raymond “Palmerio” of Piacenza, St., 64 Raymond of Peñafort, 91 Reinhardsbrunn, abbey, 20, 72, 185, 204 Robert of Arbrissel, 75 Robert Grosseteste, 62

Venantius Fortunatus, 56–61, 66 virginity and sexual continence, 33, 46, 51–52, 63, 70, 92–93, 193–196, 198, 203–204, 210–211 visions, 73, 94, 131, 170, 180, 202–203 vows, 9, 12–13, 15, 24, 26, 28, 31–34, 36–40, 44, 52, 70, 74, 85, 87, 99–100, 102–103, 105–107, 109–110, 112–123, 125–127, 129–138, 140, 143–144, 146–165, 167, 170–171, 173–178, 182, 185, 194–195, 198, 203, 211–212

sanctity, saints, x–xi, 3–7, 9, 13–17, 22–23, 26–42, 43–44, 50, 54–55, 61, 67, 79, 97, 110, 165, 179, 182, 213–214 Sárospatak, ix scribes, 16, 17, 27, 52, 123, 158, 175, 188, 203 sisters of the world (sorores in seculo), 52, 66, 70, 74, 195, 204, 206, 208, 212, 215 Siegfried, Archbishop of Mainz, 5–6, 10, 13, 75, 91–92, 97, 172, 187 Sophia, daughter of Elizabeth, ix Sophia, mother-in-law of Elizabeth, 196, 212

Waldensians, 7, 32, 109 Wartburg castle, ix, x, 46, 47, 51, 53, 59, 60, 64, 70–74, 77, 92, 199, 201–202, 205 Wilhelm, monk and notary, 13, 172, 187–191 witnesses, 6–7, 9–21, 23–27, 33, 35, 39, 45, 51–55, 59, 84–89, 97, 99, 103–105, 109, 117, 120, 130, 135–136, 141–142, 144, 146, 150, 154, 156, 158, 164, 169, 171, 173–175, 177–180, 183–184, 186, 188–190, 206, 210 wool, spinning/cloth production, 63–64, 67–68, 71, 196, 198, 207–208