The Catacomb Saints: Bedazzled Skeletons of the Counter-Reformation

07 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by Reliquarian in Reliquary, Textile

Tags

Austria, catacomb saints, catacombs, Germany, Hall in Tirol, Munich, Saint Munditia, skeleton

Skeleton of Saint Catherine, Pfarrkirche Sankt Nikolaus, Hall in Tirol, Austria. Photo by Reliquarian.

The Work of the Dead

In the third century BCE, Diogenes the Cynic famously insisted that a corpse was mere matter, fundamentally profane and profoundly irrelevant. To emphasize his point, Diogenes ordered that upon his death his own body should be tossed over the wall of the city and be left unburied. His friends were stunned. “What!” they replied. “To the birds and beasts?” “By no means,” he answered. “Place my staff near me, that I may drive them away.” “How can you do that, for you will not perceive them,” they responded. “How am I then injured by being torn by those animals, if I have no sensation?” he rejoined.[1]

Josse Lieferinxe, Saint Sebastian Interceding for the Plague Stricken (1497-99), Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, Maryland

Josse Lieferinxe, Saint Sebastian Interceding for the Plague Stricken (detail) (1497-99). The Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, Maryland. Photo by Reliquarian.

In The Work of the Dead: A Cultural History of Mortal Remains, historian Thomas W. Laqueur explores an intriguing question: Why do human beings care for the dead?[2] Laqueur observes that Diogenes, with his “seemingly commonsense rejection of all that decency and custom prescribe,” made the case “against the pretensions of the dead body more uncompromisingly” than anyone else in the Western tradition.[3] Laqueur further contends that “[i]f Diogenes had not existed, we would have had to invent him,” because “[w]e need someone to insist that the dead do not matter so that we can respond with reasons for why they do.”[4] As Laqueur explains, “[t]he history of the work of the dead is a history of how they dwell in us—individually and communally. It is a history of how we imagine them to be, how they give meaning to our lives, how they structure public spaces, politics, and time. It is a history of the imagination, a history of how we invest the dead . . . with meaning.”[5] In short, Laqueur writes, the dead “are a powerful category of the imagination,” and then as now, “the corpse is their token.”[6]

The Roman Catacombs

On 31 May 1578, laborers along the Via Salaria in Rome uncovered something mysterious in a nearby vineyard: a dark, forbidding hole that disappeared deep into the earth.[7] Further investigation revealed the hole to be the entrance to an ancient, subterranean cemetery known as the Coemeterium Jordanorum, or Jordanian Cemetery.[8] The discovery of other ancient cemeteries soon followed. Begun in the 1st century, these burial places were initially known as hypogaeum (a subterranean place) and later as coemeterium (a sleeping place).[9] We, however, have come to know these Roman cemeteries by a different name: the Roman Catacombs.

View of the Roman Forum. Photo by Reliquarian.

The cemeteries of the Roman Catacombs are linked by a multitude of galleries that cross and recross each other to form a vast labyrinth beneath the city. As J. Spencer Northcote and W. R. Brownlow explain in Roma Sotterranea, “The galleries are from two to four feet in width, and vary in height according to the nature of the rock in which they are dug. The walls on both sides are pierced with horizontal niches, like shelves in a bookcase or berths in a steamer, and every niche once contained one or more dead bodies.”[10] Note that the Roma Sotterranea, published in 1869, states the niches “once contained one or more bodies.”[11] In 1578, the bodies were still there.

Skeleton of Abbot Konrad II (center) with the Bodies of Four Catacomb Saints, Collegiate Church of Saint Michael, Mondsee, Austria. Photo by Reliquarian.

The Protestant Reformation

Holy relics were anathema to proponents of the Protestant Reformation. In his Treatise on Relics, for example, John Calvin railed against the use of relics as objects of worship.[12] Early Christians, he wrote, obeyed “the universal sentence, that all flesh is dust, and to dust it must return.”[13] In contrast, later Christians disinterred the bodies of the faithful “in opposition to the command of God . . . in order to be glorified, when they ought to have remained in their places of repose awaiting the last judgment.”[14]

Protestant disdain for relics, however, was not limited to verbal expressions of disapprobation. Throughout Protestant Europe, countless relics were also physically damaged or destroyed.[15] Paul Koudounaris observes, “Not even the esteemed church fathers such as St Irenaeus were safe.”[16] The saint’s “nearly 1,400-year-old remains in Lyons were burned and cast to the wind by Huguenots in 1562.”[17]

Relics of Catacomb Saints, Church of Saint Nikolaus, Hall in Tirol, Austria.

Relics of Catacomb Saints, North Wall, Pfarrkirche Sankt Nikolaus, Hall in Tirol, Austria. Photo by Reliquarian.

The Counter-Reformation

The Council of Trent, which met between 1545 and 1563, sought to address issues raised by Protestant reformers, including the preservation and veneration of holy relics. Ultimately, the Council reaffirmed the significance of relics, declaring that “they who affirm that veneration and honour are not due to the relics of saints; or, that these, and other sacred monuments are uselessly honoured by the faithful . . . are wholly to be condemned.”[18] However, acknowledging that relics had been the subject of much abuse in the past, the Council also introduced strict rules governing their visitation and authentication.[19] For example, the Council declared that in the veneration of relics, “every superstition shall be removed [and] all filthy lucre be abolished.”[20] The Council also required all new relics to be officially recognized before they could be offered for veneration.[21]

While the Council’s decision provided a doctrinal resolution to the relic debate, many churches now faced a more practical problem: the Protestant Reformation had created a shortage of holy relics, particularly in areas close to Protestant regions.[22] Given this scarcity, how would Rome meet the renewed demand for sacred relics? Where would churches find new relics for devotional display?

The discovery of the Roman Catacombs seemed to provide a providential answer.

Jean-Léon Gérôme, The Christian Martyrs' Last Prayer, oil on canvas (1863-883). The Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, Maryland.

Jean-Léon Gérôme, The Christian Martyrs’ Last Prayer (detail), oil on canvas (1863-883). The Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, Maryland. Photo by Reliquarian.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

In his arresting book Heavenly Bodies: Cult Treasures & Spectacular Saints from the Catacombs, Paul Koudounaris notes that after their discovery in 1578, the dusky passageways of the catacombs became the focus of a “public obsession.”[23] Koudounaris writes, “While no one was quite sure in the early years whose bones were down there, the consensus was that they must certainly be sacred because they dated from the blood-soaked days of state-sponsored persecutions.”[24] In other words, it was believed the bones were those of early Christian martyrs.[25]

Soon, bones began to trickle northward as churches sought to replace relics lost during the Protestant Reformation with the bones of Katakombenheiligen or “catacomb saints.”[26] These relics were officially authenticated, as required by the Council of Trent, although identification of could be tricky. As Koudounaris explains, relic hunters first looked for funerary plaques identifying martyrs, but “[i]f the word ‘martyr’ was absent, a capital ‘M’ was considered sufficient as shorthand—although ‘M’ was also used in Roman times as an abbreviation for the name Marcus, memoria (memory), mensis (month) or manis (dead).”[27] Similarly, the abbreviation sang, or simply sa, were believed to mean sanguis (blood).[28] In the absence of written clues, symbols were used to decipher the graves of martyrs. For example, the presence of a palm frond, long understood to be a symbol of martyrdom, could denote a martyr’s tomb.[29] Alternatively, the presence of a phial or ampule was understood to mark the grave of a martyr because, it was believed, a sample of a martyr’s blood was commonly interred with the martyr’s body.[30]

Meanwhile martyrs lacking identifiable names were given new names in a process known as battezzati or “baptism.”[31] Some were named after popular saints, such as Saint Boniface. Others were named in Latin after virtues, such as Constantius for constancy, Clemens for clemency, or Innocens for innocent.

Relics of Saint Honoratus, Peterskirche, Munich Germany. The inscription on the reliquary reads, “Corpus S. Honorati, Martyris.” A second inscription on the side of the reliquary reads, “Hl. Honoratus aus den Katakomben.” Photo by Reliquarian.

Recalled to Life

Churches treasured the relics they received from the catacombs, and they carefully prepared them for display in a manner befitting their stature. Full skeletons were especially prized, although reconstructing them correctly could be difficult. Koudounaris explains, “For extensive reconstruction, the bones would usually have to be sent to experts, most often to nuns who specialized in working with relics.”[32] In addition to possessing the appropriate religious temperament to work with relics, these nuns also exhibited tremendous skill with textiles and the decorative arts.[33]

Once fully reconstructed, catacomb saints were lavishly decorated with gold, jewels, and sumptuous fabrics. According to Smithsonian Magazine, the bones were frequently wrapped in a fine gauze to prevent dust from settling on the relics and to use as “a medium for attaching decorations.”[34] Additionally, “[l]ocal nobles often donated personal garments, which the nuns would lovingly slip onto the corpse and then cut out peepholes so people could see the bones beneath.”[35] In some cases, a nun would add her own ring to a skeleton’s finger as a personal touch.[36]

Saint Munditia, Peterskirche, Munich, Germany. Photo by Reliquarian.

The resulting displays were majestic, resplendent, regal—though a modern observer might describe them as creepy. Some catacomb saints wear wax masks over their brittle skulls. Others feature glass eyes or eye sockets beset with jewels. Many gesture as if still animate, suspended for a moment in time.

The men and women whom the catacomb saints were meant to inspire, however, responded positively to these displays. They credited the skeletons with protecting their communities and working miracles on their behalf. Some named their children after them.[37] And when they died, many wished to be buried near them.

Waldauf Chapel, Pfarrkirche Sankt Nikolaus, Hall in Tirol, Austria. These skulls formed part of the collection of Florian Waldauf. Waldauf donated his collection to the church in 1501. Photo by Reliquarian.

Ultimately, caring for the catacomb saints—the “special dead” as Laqueur calls them—was “a sign of piety, of love, of affection, and of religious devotion.”[38] It was “a mark of civility and decency: exactly what Diogenes rejected.”[39] Saint Augustine had said, “The bodies of the dead, and especially of the just and faithful, are not to be despised or cast aside. The soul has used them as organs and vessels for all good work in a holy manner.”[40] Buried for centuries before their discovery, the catacomb saints are proof that Diogenes was wrong, that dead bodies are not irrelevant, that the dead do matter. The catacomb saints were triumphs of the imagination invested with extraordinary meaning. And they were recalled to life just when the Church needed them most.

Relics of Saint Catherine, Pfarrkirche Sankt Nikolaus, Hall in Tirol, Austria. Photo by Reliquarian.

[1] Marcus Tullius Cicero, Tusculan Disputations (C.D. Yonge, trans, 1890), at 55-56.

[2] Thomas W. Laqueur, The Work of the Dead: A Cultural History of Mortal Remains (2015).

[3] Id. at 35.

[4] Id.

[5] Id. at 17.

[6] Id. at 79.

[7] Thomas W. Laqueur, The Work of the Dead: A Cultural History of Mortal Remains (2015).

[8] Id.

[9] J. Spencer Northcote and W. R. Brownlow, Roma Sotterranea (1869), at 29. As the authors explain in their preface, the book was based largely on Giovanni De Rossi’s two-volume Roma Sotterranea (1864, 1867), various articles from the Bullettino di Archeologia Cristiana, and other scholarly works and papers.

[10] Id. at 26-27.

[11] Id. (emphasis added).

[12] John Calvin, Treatise on Relics (Valerian Krasinski, trans., 2008), at 55.

[13] Id. (emphasis omitted).

[14] Id.

[15] See Koudounaris, supra note 7, at 30. Koudounaris observes that Clavin’s followers “proved particularly destructive. They sacked churches and ruined relics in large numbers, variously broken, discarded or set aflame.” Id.

[16] Id.

[17] Id.

[18] The Council of Trent: The Twenty-fifth Session (J. Waterworth, ed. and trans., 1848), at 234.

[19] Id. at 235-36.

[20] Id. at 235. The Council also prohibited the visitation of relics “by any perverted into revellings and drunkenness.” Id.

[21] Id.

[22] See Koudounaris, supra note 7, at 31.

[23] Id. at 33.

[24] Id.

[25] See, id. Koudounaris states, “The relic hunters who descended into the catacombs . . . were specifically seeking the graves of martyrs.” Id.

[26] Id. Koudounaris cites a 1907 study of catacombs saints in Switzerland to provide a sense of the scale of the exhumations. According to the study, Swiss churches alone possessed over 150 full skeletons and approximately 1,000 fragmentary collections of relics from the catacombs. Id.

[27] Id. at 39.

[28] Id.

[29] Id.

[30] Id. at 45.

[31] Id.

[32] Id. at 63.

[33] Id.

[34] Rachel Nuwer, “Meet the Fantastically Bejeweled Skeletons of Catholicism’s Forgotten Martyrs,” Smithsonian Magazine, 1 October 2013, available at http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/meet-the-fantastically-bejeweled-skeletons-of-catholicisms-forgotten-martyrs-284882/.

[35] Id.

[36] Id.

[37] Nuwer, supra note 34. Indeed in some cases, nearly half the children born in a town after the arrival of a catacomb saint would be named after the saint. Id.

[38] Laqueur, supra note 2, at 41.

[39] Id.

[40] Id. (quoting Saint Augustine, De Cura Mortuum Gerenda, in Treatises on Marriage and Other Subjects (Roy J. Deferrari, ed., 1955) at 353).

Skull of a Catacomb Saint, Waldauf Chapel, Pfarrkirche Sankt Nikolaus, Hall in Tirol, Austria

Saint of the Salt Castle: Discovering Saint Rupert in Salzburg, Austria

02 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by Reliquarian in Glass Reliquary

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Austria, Blessed Konrad II, Germany, reliquary, Saint Rupert, Saint Virgil, Salzburg, Salzburg Cathedral, skeleton

Statue of Saint Rupert (detail), Collegiate Church of Saint Peter and Saint John the Baptist (Stiftskirche St. Peter und Johannes der Taüfer), Berchtesgaden, Germany

Salt of the Earth

In his wide-ranging history of salt, Salt: A World History, Mark Kurlansky retells the story of a French princess who infuriated her father by declaring she loved him like salt. “Only later,” Kurlansky writes, when the king “is denied salt does he realize its value and therefore the depth of his daughter’s love.”[1] Because salt is “so common, so easy to obtain, and so inexpensive,” Kurlansky explains, “we have forgotten that from the beginning of civilization until about 100 years ago, salt was one of the most sought-after commodities in human history.”[2] Salt was so precious, Roman soldiers were once paid an amount of money for the purchase of salt, known as a salarium — that is, a “salary.”[3] Salt was also fundamental to the growth of several European cities, including the great city of Salzburg, Austria. The name “Salzburg,” in fact, derives from the German word for salt (Salz) and the word for castle (Burg).

View of Hohensalzburg Castle from Mirabell Palace and Gardens, Salzburg, Austria

The rise and development of Salzburg, however, was far from inevitable. By the 7th century, the city, then known as Juvavum, was in ruin following the collapse of the Roman Empire and the catastrophic breakdown of public infrastructure throughout the region.[4] The work of an enterprising saint, and a little bit of salt, however, helped revive Salzburg’s fortunes. The saint was Saint Rupert, first Bishop of Salzburg, whose likeness appears throughout the city and region to this day. He is commonly portrayed carrying a vessel of salt, his traditional emblem in art — and an apt attribute for the patron saint of the Salt Castle.

Statue of Saint Rupert, Salzburg Cathedral, Salzburg, Austria

Man of Salt

Who was Saint Rupert, and why is he so closely associated with Salzburg? According to Butler’s Lives of the Saints, Saint Rupert was either a Frank or an Irishman who had once been Bishop of Worms.[5] In approximately 697, Saint Rupert and several companions traveled to Regensburg to visit Duke Theodo of Bavaria, a powerful ruler “without whose permission nothing much could be done.”[6] Saint Rupert eventually converted and baptized the duke, who afterwards became Saint Rupert’s patron. With the duke’s support, Saint Rupert reestablished Christianity along the Danube, in an area stretching from Regensburg to Lorch.[7]

Instead of settling in either of these places, however, Saint Rupert chose to establish himself in the “old ruined town of Juvavum.”[8] Juvavum contained a number of Roman-era buildings, though most were “dilapidated” and “overgrown with briars and brushwood.”[9]. The ancient town’s main advantage was its location in a prospering commercial area, in a region rich in salt.

Statue of Saint Rupert, Cemetery of Saint Sebastian, Salzburg, Austria

Saint Rupert petitioned Duke Theodo for the territory of Juvavum, and the duke readily agreed. Soon after, Saint Rupert erected the town’s first church, the Church of Saint Peter (Stiftskirche Sankt Peter), at the base of the Mönchberg.[10] He also established the town’s first monastery and its first convent, Nonnberg Abbey, whose first abbess, Saint Erentrude, was Saint Rupert’s niece.

Part of Duke Theodo’s original donation included rich salt deposits, which were mined for their precious crystals.[11] Saint Rupert is credited with establishing these first salt mines, which would become a source of the city’s great wealth and grandeur in later centuries.[12] As the city prospered, wealth from salt mining enabled the arts to flourish. Today, however, the influence of salt on the city’s growth and prosperity has been all but forgotten. Instead, Salzburg is celebrated as an elegant city of music, the birthplace of Mozart and, more recently, the backdrop of the perennially popular movie The Sound of Music.

View of Salzburg from Festung Hohensalzburg. Salzburg Cathedral, with green dome, is visible in the foreground, to the right.

View of Salzburg from Festung Hohensalzburg. Salzburg Cathedral, with its distinctive green dome, is visible near the center of the photograph.

Skeletons at the von Trapp Wedding

Located 17 miles east of Salzburg, in the charming lakeside town of Mondsee, Austria, the parish church of Saint Michael (Pfarrkirche St Michael), is the second largest church in Upper Austria. Built in the late 15th century, the twin towers and pale yellow of the church’s exterior may strike some as vaguely familiar. As it turns out, the church served as the setting of Fraulein Maria’s wedding to Captain von Trapp in The Sound of Music.

Parish Church of Saint Michael, Mondsee, Austria

The interior of the church features striking vaulted ceilings, a riot of carved and painted figures, and various gilded Baroque altars, including five by the famed Swiss sculptor Meinrad Guggenbichler.[13] The church also houses a number of relics, some of which make brief cameos in the wedding scene of The Sound of Music. The relics of Blessed Konrad II are the most notable. Located directly above the tabernacle behind the high altar, the seated skeleton of Blessed Konrad II, a 12th century abbott of Mondsee, peers out from behind a glass enclosed niche. The skeleton’s head is surrounded by a ray halo, and his left hand clutches a staff and palm frond, indicating a martyr’s death. Apparently, Blessed Konrad II was killed defending his monastery, and his fellow monks believed his murder qualified him for martyrdom.[14]

Seven-Part Reliquary with the Relics of Blessed Konrad II of Mondsee, Parish Church of Saint Michael, Mondsee, Austria

An array of other relics, carefully arranged in two large reliquary cases, are displayed to Blessed Konrad II’s right and left. The relics include various skulls and bones first collected and displayed in the church in the mid-18th century. Below the reliquary cases, four additional skeletons may be seen reclining in individual cases, two triangular and two rectangular. The skeletons look relaxed in their padded niches and observe the world as if from window of a passing train. The skeletons belong to catacomb saints exhumed and transported to Mondsee from the catacombs of Rome. The altar itself is a remarkable early Baroque work by the sculptor Hans Waldburger. Dating to 1626, the altar features a depiction of Saint Michael the Archangel placidly slaying a dragon. The altar is the only extant altar by Waldburger.[15]

Parish Church of Saint Michael, Mondsee, Austria. The high altar, which dates to 1626, is the work of Hans Waldburger.

Salzburg Cathedral

Saint Rupert died in 710, and is buried in the crypt of Salzburg Cathedral. Consecrated to Saint Rupert and Saint Virgil in 774, the cathedral has been rebuilt and modified several times since its founding. In 1167, for example, the Counts of Plain, knights loyal to the the emperor Barbarossa, set fire to the cathedral, burning it virtually to its foundation.[16]

Salzburg Cathedral (Salzburger Dom), Salzburg, Austria

The cathedral was rebuilt, but burned again in 1598. The subsequent rebuilding effort, led by Salzburg’s archbishop at the time, Wolf Dietrich von Raitenau, outraged city residents who were shocked by Wolf Dietrich’s ruthless destruction of the cathedral’s cemetery, including the desecration of countless graves, for the rebuilding project.[17] After Wolf Dietrich was captured and imprisoned by Bavarian troops in a dispute over salt mining rights, Wolf Dietrich’s successor, Markus Sittikus von Hohenems, commissioned a new architect to complete the cathedral’s reconstruction.

Interior of Salzburg Cathedral (Salzburger Dom), Salzburg, Austria

Reconsecrated in 1628, the new, Baroque cathedral remained virtually unchanged until 1944, when a bomb crashed through the dome, destroying part of the chancel. After extensive renovations, the cathedral was consecrated a third time, in 1959. The three gates to the cathedral commemorate the three consecrations by displaying the years “774,” “1628,” and “1959” in gold above the portals.[18]

Back to the Salt Mines

Although Saint Rupert does not hover above the tabernacle of Salzburg Cathedral like Blessed Konrad II in Mondsee, images of Saint Rupert throughout the church and city serve as a reminder of his role in the city’s early history. As already noted, Saint Rupert is frequently shown carrying a vessel of salt, an acknowledgment of his influence on Salzburg’s salt trade. The container of salt, however, may hint at another of Saint Rupert’s accomplishments. In addition to establishing the city’s first salt mines, Saint Rupert was responsible for changing the city’s original name, Juvavum, to something more relevant and more enduring. The name he chose, of course, was “Salzburg,” the Salt Castle.

High Altar, Salzburg Cathedral (Salzburger Dom) Salzburg, Austria. Saint Rupert is depicted atop the altar carrying a barrel of salt in his left hand and a bishop’s crozier in his right. Saint Virgil is also represented atop the altar, opposite Saint Rupert.

Statue of Saint Rupert, Saint Andreas Parish Church, Berchtesgaden, Austria

Statue of Saint Rupert, Parish Church of Saint Andreas, Berchtesgaden, Germany

Interior of Dome, Salzburg Cathedral (Salzburger Dom), Salzburg, Austria. The dome was pierced by an aerial bomb in WWII. Repairs to the cathedral were not completed until 1959.

[1] Mark Kurlansky, Salt: A World History 6 (2002).

[2] Id.

[3] 2 Shorter Oxford English Dictionary 2653 (5th ed., 2002).

[4] Juvavum was one of the principle towns of the Roman frontier province of Noricum.

[5] 1 Butler’s Lives of the Saints 700 (Herbert J. Thurston, S.J. & Donald Attwater eds., 2d ed. 1956).

[6] Id.

[7] Id.

[8] Id.

[9] 13 Catholic Encyclopedia 229 (Charles G. Herbermann et al., eds 1912).

[10] Id. The church was established where Saint Maximus, a follower of Saint Severin, was martyred in 476.

[11] Id.

[12] Saleem H. Ali, Treasure of the Earth: Need, Greed, and a Sustainable Future 34 (2009).

[13] John Bourke, Baroque Churches of Central Europe 266 (1958).

[14] Blessed Konrad II of Mondsee, Saints.SPQN.com, available at http://saints.sqpn.com/blessed-konrad-ii-of-mondsee/.

[15] 10 Dictionary of German Biography 314 (Walther Killy et al., eds, 2006).

[16] Salzburg Cathedral, Salzburg Travel Guide, http://www.salzburg.info/en.

[17] Id.

[18] Id.

Saint Florian: Saint of Fire and Flood

27 Saturday Jul 2013

Posted by Reliquarian in General

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Austria, bucket, burning building, church, fire, firefighter, Florian cross, Hall in Tirol, Krakow, Maltese cross, Maria Alm, martyr, millstone, Poland, relic, Saint Florian, Salzburg

St. Florian (detail), Altarpiece, Strasbourg Cathedral

Images of a knight serenely dousing a burning building with a bucket of water have mystified generations of travelers journeying through Europe.[1] The knight can be found atop pillars in city squares, emblazoned on buildings, and perched beside church altars. Depictions of the knight, identifiable as Saint Florian, are particularly common in central Europe, where he continues to be honored and venerated to this day. I have even encountered his statue in a Salzburg hotel calmly quenching a fire with a telltale bucket and have wondered at his likeness on a fire extinguisher in the sleepy town of Maria Alm, Austria. Why does Saint Florian carry a bucket? What is the meaning of the burning building at his feet? And why is he so popular in central Europe?

Who Was Saint Florian?

St. Florian Fountain, Salzburg, Austria

Saint Florian was a Roman army officer who held an administrative post in Noricum, a Roman province that included what is now Austria.[2] In 304, during the Christian persecutions of the emperor Diocletian, Saint Florian publicly revealed he was a Christian and was subsequently tortured and killed for his faith.[3] According to the Passion of Saint Florian, Florian encountered soldiers with whom he had previously served as he approached Lorch (Lauriacum). When he asked where they were going, they responded, “Have you not heard the emperor’s commands which reached the praeses, in accordance with which he orders all men to offer libations to the gods, and that those who refuse should be put to death by various means?”[4] Florian answered, “Brother and fellow soldiers, what else do you need seeing that I am a Christian? Go and tell the praeses that I am a Christian and am here.”[5]

The soldiers were skeptical of Florian’s surprising confession, but they dutifully arrested him and brought him before the governor, Aquilinus, who first encouraged and then ordered Florian to offer sacrifice to the gods to prove he was not a Christian. When Florian refused, the governor ordered him beaten with clubs. Florian replied, “Be as angry and do as much harm as you can, since you possess power over my body which has been given to you for now. If you want to know why I do not fear your tortures, light a fire, and I will climb upon it.”[6]

According to various sources, Florian was beaten with clubs, was “twice scourged, half-flayed alive and finally thrown into the river Enns with a stone around his neck.”[7] Because he was martyred by drowning, Saint Florian is often invoked as a protector against drowning or against danger from water, including flooding. He is also frequently portrayed in art with a millstone around his neck or in close proximity.

Patron Saint of Firefighters

Saint Florian is also recognized as the patron saint of firefighters, although the reason for his association with firefighting is unclear. Some commentators have tried to link the origin of the tradition to his martyrdom, although Saint Florian was not recognized as a protector against fire until much later. Florian’s association with firefighting likely derives from a legend that arose in the Middle Ages, a legend that also explains why he is commonly portrayed with a bucket and a burning building.

St. Florian, Waldauf Chapel, Hall in Tyrol

Explanations tracing Saint Florian’s patronage of firefighters to his martyrdom seem improbable, particularly since they involve some manipulation of the historical sources. A number of online sources claim that Saint Florian’s executioners initially intended to burn him at the stake, but Saint Florian told them, “If you do, I will climb to heaven on the flames.”[8] At this, they grew uneasy, and they decided to beat him instead before ultimately drowning him in the Enns.[9] While this version of the story may sound compelling, it is not entirely consistent with earlier versions of Saint Florian’s “acts.”

As noted in the Passion of Saint Florian, above, Florian did tell Aquilinus, “light a fire, and I will climb upon it,” but he made no reference to rising to heaven either on its smoke or flames as some online sources suggest. These sources tend to misquote the Passion and unintentionally shift the focus of Florian’s words from his faith in Christ to his faith in his own apotheosis. Florian invoked the image of a pyre to affirm his Christian beliefs and to demonstrate his willingness to suffer torture for it, not as gasconade. The Acta Sanctorum similarly places Florian’s statement in this context.[10] In it, Saint Florian had already been beaten “for a long time,” when he turned to Aquilinus and said, “You have power over my body, but not over my soul. So do whatever harm you can, since no way will I submit to your commands. In order that you may learn that I do not fear your tortures, order a strong fire to be lit, and, in the name of my God, I will walk upon it without harm.”[11]

Modern commentators appear to be reaching for a link between Saint Florian’s martyrdom and his status as a protector against fire. However, because Saint Florian did not become identified with firefighting until centuries after his death, during the late Middle Ages, it is unlikely the circumstances of his death precipitated the tie to firefighting.[12]

Bucket Brigade

St. Florian - Salzburg (detail) Most representations of Saint Florian depict him dressed as a Roman soldier or a medieval knight holding either a banner or sword in one hand, a bucket or pitcher in the other, with a burning building, city, or church at his feet. Alternatively, as mentioned above, he may be shown with a millstone, the instrument of his death. According to a catalogue published by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Saint Florian first appeared with a bucket and a burning building in the late 15^th century.[13] According to legend, Saint Florian managed to save a burning house – sometimes it is as an entire city – with a single bucket of water.[14] Florian’s reputation as a protector against fire earned him great devotion in medieval society, which lived in constant fear of fire and the threat of urban conflagration.

Representations of Florian as a firefighting saint quickly gained popularity, particularly in Austria and southern Germany. In the region even today, Saint Florian has become so synonymous with firefighting that his image is readily used to identify fire stations and departments. The exteriors of firehouses frequently feature an image of Saint Florian on a wall or a statue of Saint Florian tucked into a niche. The name “Florian” even serves as a universal radio call sign for Feuerwehr (fire department) vehicles and stations.

The Florian Cross

Beyond Austria and Germany, Saint Florian’s influence on firefighting may be less conspicuous, but it is still discernible. Many fire departments incorporate what has come to become known as a “Florian cross” or “cross of Saint Florian” into their badges, patches, and other organizational emblems. The cross features four triangular arms, of equal length, that are rounded at each terminus and that taper toward the center. (An example is depicted at left, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.) Often confused with the Maltese cross, which has no curved lines, the origin of the Florian cross’s design remains obscure.[15] Many commentators have argued that the Maltese cross, which the Knights of Saint John famously wore to identify members of their order, became a symbol of firefighters because firefighters, like the earlier knights, were willing to lay down their lives to protect others.[16] While this explanation may sound plausible, it ignores the fact the Florian cross is simply not a Maltese cross.[17]

Alternatively, the Florian cross may have evolved from a Maltese cross over time. (An example of a Maltese cross is depicted at left, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.) Many cross variations share similar features, and it is possible the Maltese cross gradually developed into a Florian cross over the course of several centuries. A comparison of the two symbols – one featuring relatively thin, angular arms, the other comprised of broad, curved arms – suggests, however, that such a radical metamorphosis is unlikely to have occurred. Another explanation is that the Florian cross is sui generis – though possibly inspired by the Maltese cross.

The various representations of Saint Florian I’ve examined, mostly from the medieval period, offer no clues to the cross’s origin. Occasionally, Saint Florian is portrayed holding a banner emblazoned with a cross, but the cross it features is invariably a simple Latin cross. In at least early representations of Saint Florian, the saint does not appear to wear or carry the symbol that has come to bear his name. On the other hand, many protective medals and medallions featuring Saint Florian are shaped in variations of the Florian cross, with broad, curved arms enclosing an image of the saint. Could the shape of early Saint Florian medallions have inspired the outline of the Florian cross? Perhaps it’s a question of the chicken or the egg, and ultimately, I do not know how the Florian cross came to be. My guess is the design derives from the late 19^th century, since that appears to be when fire departments began to incorporate a cross into their emblems.[18]

The Relics of Saint Florian and the Royal Road

In addition to serving as the patron saint of firefighters, Saint Florian is also the patron saint of various localities, including Linz, Austria; the state of Oberösterreich (Upper Austria), Austria; and Poland.

According to legend, after Florian was drowned in the Enns, his body was recovered by a devout woman named Valeria and was buried. His body was eventually transferred to the Augustinian Abbey of Saint Florian, near Linz.

St. Florian Church In 1184, Pope Lucius III sent relics of Saint Florian to Duke Kasimir the Just of Poland. Kasimir had the relics sent to Krakow, one of Poland’s oldest and most important cities. According to tradition, the horses carrying the relics stopped in Kleparz, a medieval suburb of the Cracow, before reaching the city gate and refused to continue any further. Their obstinacy was interpreted as a sign, and the church of Saint Florian (pictured above) was erected on the spot to house the relics.[19]

After the capital was moved from Krakow to Warsaw, the church of Saint Florian became the receiving point for the bodies of deceased royalty, who continued to be buried at Krakow’s Wawel Cathedral. Royal funeral processions followed what became known as the Royal Road or Royal Route, a course replete with references to Saint Florian. The route originated at the church of Saint Florian, passed through the 14^th century Florian Gate with its polychrome figure of Florian extinguishing a gilded fire, and continued along Floriańska Street before reaching the Main Market Square. From there, the route wound through the Old Town, past the Church of Saints Peter and Paul, to Wawel Hill and its looming cathedral.

The Royal Road with the tower of the Florian Gate at left

May I Propose a Toast . . .

Shortly after returning from a trip to southern Austria, I stumbled upon this passage from the correspondence of John Lothrop Motley, a 19^th century American historian. Written almost 179 years earlier, I was struck by how, in some ways, very little has changed since Motley’s own travels through the region. On the other hand, I was surprised to learn of Saint Florian’s apparent standing as the patron saint of innkeepers and brewers. Motley writes:

Maria Alm, Austria

“Among other Catholic images which are strewed all along the roadside, one in particular puzzled me for a long time—the figure of a saint in armour with a sword in the right hand and a bucket of water in the left, which he is emptying on a burning house. I have found that it is St. Florian, the patron saint of burning houses and firemen, and also, according to the popular legends, of innkeepers and brewers, to whom he always sends a sufficient quantity of water to temper their wine and other potations, and who in gratitude, as I have observed, have always his figure over their doorways.”[20]

While Saint Florian may also serve as a patron saint of brewers, it is as the patron saint of firefighters that he is frequently identified today. In fact, in 1999, the date of International Firefighters Day was fixed as May 4th, the feast day of Saint Florian. Fittingly, both Saint Florian and the heroic firefighters he is often invoked to protect, may now be celebrated and remembered on the very same day.

Florian Street, Krakow, Poland

[1] See, e.g., 1 The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley 38 (George William Curtis ed., 1889)

[2] See, e.g., 2 Butler’s Lives of the Saints 230-31 (Herbert J. Thurston, S.J. & Donald Attwater eds., 2d ed. 1956).

[3] Id. at 230.

[4] Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Passiones Vitaeque Sanctorum Aevi Merovingici et Antiquiorum Aliquot 65-71 (Bruno Krusch ed., 1896), available in translation at http://www.ucc.ie/milmart/BHL3054.html.

[5] Id.

[6] Id.

[7] Butler’s Lives of the Saints, supra note 2, at 230.

[8] See, “Saint Florian: The Patron Saint of the Fire Service,” The Public Safety Net, available at http://www.publicsafety.net/st_florian.htm; see also, “Saint Florian,” Saint Florian Roman Catholic Church, available at http://www.stflorianparish.org/en/history/saint-florian/; “Saint Florian History,” Brookline Firefighters Association, available at http://www.brooklinefirefighters.org/index.cfm?zone=/unionactive/view_page.cfm&page=St20Florian.

[9] See, e.g., The Public Safety Net, supra note 8; Saint Florian Roman Catholic Church, supra note 8; Brookline Firefighters Association, supra note 8.

[10] See 1 Mai 463-466, in Acta Sanctorum Quotquot Toto Orbe Coluntur (1863), available in translation at http://www.ucc.ie/milmart/BHL3058.html.

[11] Id.

[12] See Metropolitan Museum of Art, Medieval Art from Private Collections: A Special Exhibition at the Cloisters 61 (1968) (“At the end of the Middle Ages he came to be regarded as a protector against fire.”).

[13] Id. (“The earliest representations of him with a bucket and a burning house are of the late fifteenth century.”).

[14] See, e.g., George Ferguson, Signs and Symbols in Christian Art 71 (1959).

[15] See Donald V. Engebretson, “The Firefighter’s Cross,” Northwoods Seelsorder Blog, Mar. 8, 2008, available at http://nwseelsorger.blogspot.de/2008/03/firefighters-cross.html.

[16] See, e.g., “History of the Maltese Cross,” New York City Fire Dept., available at http://www.nyc.gov/html/fdny/html/history/maltese_cross.shtml (arguing that the Knights of Saint John were “our first firefighters” because they regularly put out fires ignited by weapons during the Crusades).

[17] Some fire departments, however, do incorporate a Maltese cross, rather than a Florian cross, into their emblems. See, for example, the Canadian Fire Service.

[18] See, e.g., Mica Calfee, “The ‘Maltese Cross’ and the Fire Service,” available at http://www.fireserviceinfo.com/maltesecross.html (citing a 1882 newspaper article describing a local NY fire department’s decision to adopt a new “Maltese cross” badge design); “Origins of the Fire Service Badge,” Hampshire (UK) Fire and Rescue Service, available at http://www.hantsfire.gov.uk/theservice/organisation/history/servicebadgesorigin.htm (“Quite when the star was first used in this country for the badge of a firefighter is not easy to establish. The earliest example found is the brass eight pointed star adopted for use by the National Fire Brigades Association in 1887.”) The 1887 National Fire Brigade Association badge appears to be an actual Maltese cross. Over time, it evolved into something quite different, although the original eight points of the Maltese cross are still discernible. Could the Florian cross have developed similarly over time?

[19] See, e.g., Teresa Czerniewicz-Umer, Eyewitness Travel: Cracow 138 (2010)

[20] The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley, supra note 1.