The Catacomb Saints: Bedazzled Skeletons of the Counter-Reformation

07 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by Reliquarian in Reliquary, Textile

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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

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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.

Waldauf Chapel

04 Tuesday Dec 2012

Posted by Reliquarian in Glass Reliquary

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Tags

Austria, chapel, Hall in Tirol, martyr, relic, reliquary, Roman Martyrology, Saint Agapitus, Saint Constantius, skeleton, skull

Pfarrkirche St. Nikolaus

The Pfarrkirche (Parish Church) St. Nikolaus in Hall in Tirol, Austria — approximately 10 km from Innsbruck — houses an impressive display of holy relics. The Waldauf Chapel, located in the northern part of the nave, is named for Florian Waldauf zu Waldenstein, an Austrian knight who bequeathed his collection of relics to the church upon his death in 1501.

Waldauf Kapelle Pfarrkirche St. Nikolaus was established in 1281 and was initially Gothic in style. Over the centuries, however, enlargement of the church and the addition of increasingly elaborate ornamentation changed the character of the interior, infusing it with a distinctly Baroque appearance. The high altar, pictured in the distance above, is the work of Erasmus Quellinus II, a student of Peter Paul Rubens. Interior frescoes were added in 1752 by Adam Mölk, a court painter to Empress Maria Theresa.

Florian Waldauf’s collection of relics adorns the northern wall of the eponymous chapel. Dozens of skulls and an assortment of bones carefully arranged on red velvet cushions line the interior of a large cabinet, its glass wavy with age. Each skull is veiled with a gauzy fabric, blurring its features, and each is crowned with a golden halo. The effect is grim but striking: glints of gold on ashen bones in the shadows of an ancient church.

The collection of relics in the Waldauf Chapel are not the only relics on display in the church, however. Three additional cases along the northern wall, near the center of the nave, appear to contain the remains of additional saints, two of whom are clearly identified. I’m not sure whether these relics are part of Florian Waldauf’s original bequest, but given the prominence of the displays, they are likely the most important of the church’s collection.

A Mysterious Skeleton

Unidentified Skeleton The most conspicuous display contains what appears to be a complete skeleton, recumbent, richly dressed in a red velvet cape, a heavily embroidered jacket, and white silk pants. His right arm is bent at the elbow, and his head is almost poised on his gloved right hand. The glove, probably of white silk, is decorated with jewels. A golden crown formed of loosely gathered leaves adorns his skull, and the hint of a burnished halo is just visible above his head. The case itself is not clearly labeled, so unfortunately I never discovered the identity of the skeleton.

In contrast, the two other repositories flanking the skeleton case are both clearly marked. Each is built into the wall, above eye level, and each contains a single skull atop a pyramid of bones. The first case is labeled in large, gold letters “St. Constantius M.” The second case, similarly marked, reads “St. Agapitus M.” The “M” following the names Agapitus and Constantinus refers to “martyr.”

Saint Agapitus at Pfarrkirche St. Nikolaus

The Roman Martyrology lists seven saints named Agapitus. Saint Agapitus of Palestrina, for example, was fifteen when he was arrested by order of the emperor Aurelian. According to the Roman Martyrology, he was first scourged and then “endured more severe torments, and being delivered to the lions by the emperor’s order without receiving any injury, he was finally struck with the sword . . . .” After his death in 274, a basilica was erected in Palestrina, Italy, at the site of his beheading. His relics are apparently kept there, though several relics were transferred to Besançon, France. Consequently, the bones at Pfarrkirche St. Nikolaus cannot be those of Saint Agapitus of Palestrina.

Relics of Saint Agapitus Other potential Agapituses include Saint Agapitus the Deacon, who was beheaded in Rome in 258. Saint Agapitus of Synnada, in Phrygia, was a bishop martyred in the 3^rd century. Saint Agapitus of Rome was martyred in 188. He was the son of Saints Eustachius and Theophistes and the brother of Saint Theophistus. During the persecutions of Hadrian, all four members of the family were “condemned to be cast to the beasts,” but having escaped unharmed, they were then essentially cooked to death after being “shut up in a burning brazen ox.” Pope Saint Agapitus, “whose sanctity is attested by blessed Gregory the Great,” is also listed in the Roman Martyrology, though it is unclear how he was martyred. He may or may not be the same Pope Saint Agapitus I (or Agapetus I) who served as pope from 13 May 535 until his death on 22 April 536. The latter Pope Saint Agapitus, however, apparently died of illness rather than as a result of martyrdom. He is interred at Saint Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Yet another Saint Agapitus was martyred in Heraclea in Thrace during the early 4^th century along with Saints Bassus, Denis, and forty others. Lastly, Saint Agapitus of Ravenna, bishop and confessor, was martyred at Ravenna in the 4^th century.

Saint Constantius at Pfarrkirche St. Nikolaus

The identity of “St. Constantius M.” is equally uncertain. The Roman Martyrology lists several Constantiuses. Saint Constantius of Rome, a priest who opposed the Pelagians, was martyred in Rome c. 418. Saint Constantius of Trier (also known as Trèves) was killed, along with several others, in Trier during the Diocletian persecutions, c. 287. Saint Constantius of Perugia, the first Bishop of Perugia, Italy, was martyred along with members of his congregation during the reign of Marcus Aurelius. He was beheaded in 170. Another Saint Constantius, the son of Saint Simplicius and brother of Saint Victorian, was also martyred during the persecutions of Marcus Aurelius, in Marsica, Italy. This Saint Constantius, along with his father and brother, “were first tortured in different manners, and then being struck with the axe, obtained the crown of martyrdom . . . .” They apparently survived being thrown into a chamber with snakes and scorpions and escaped being torn apart by maddened heifers before they were eventually beheaded at Celano in 159.

In addition to these martyrs, several other Constantiuses have been recognized as saints or beati. For example, Saint Constantius the Bishop was the Bishop of Aquino, Italy. He died c. 520 of natural causes. Saint Constantius of Ancona was, according to the Book of Saints, sacristan of the church of St. Stephen in Ancona, Italy. He died in the latter part of the 6^th century and his relics are reportedly kept in Ancona. The Blessed Constantius of Fabriano, also known as Constantius Bernocchi, died of natural causes in 1481.