Singing to St Martin of Tours

The feast of St Martin of Tours, on November 11^th, is a pivot-point in the year, the end of the harvest season and a time of preparation for the Advent season. It was an occasion for processions (often, at least in later periods, with lanterns!), for almsgiving, and for renewal of spirit and devotional practice.

It was also tax time; paying your Martins penny or Martinizins (Martin-tithe) was a financial obligation that appears in numerous documents and charters of the time. When I say numerous, I mean that just at the Kloster of Mehrerau, for instance, at least 59 separate charters detail the Martinizins; across Vorarlberg, more than 891 charters require payments of one sort or another on that special day. (Thank you, monasterium.net, for the ability to do multi-term searches!)

In the context of a tertiary house like Thalbach in Bregenz in the 16^th century, Martin’s feast was a time for public devotion and renewal of spiritual commitements. They no doubt liked the story of how he used his sword to divide his cloak in half and share it with a beggar. As a soldier, he had been riding warm and comfortable on his horse through the sleet and snow, when he came upon a fallen man. Concerned, he cut his cloak in two and gave one part to the supine man. That evening, a vision came to him of Christ clothed in the cloak remnant; the beggar he had comforted had been Christ himself.

17th c Stained Glass image of St Martin at Wettingen, cc by Badener

The sisters were not without need of charity themselves, since food supplies were notoriously tight during this period; endowments did not yet fully cover the sisters’ needs. Here, then, was a saintly hero whose generosity might inspire the broader civic community to similarly share provisions. And, of course, the feasting of end-of-harvest season was a special reason for rejoicing. Roast goose was often a special treat on the day, and was associated with the tale the a goose had revealed his location when he was hiding to avoid appointment as bishop. Plus, the fruit of the vineyards, the year’s new wine, was often uncorked on Martinmas. Roast goose (Martinigansl) and new wine (Heuriger) remain Austrian favorites today. Many reasons to rejoice, indeed!

Thus it was when the Sisters of Thalbach took on the task of learning the Roman Breviary in 1595, adopting the Tridentine forms then newly mandated, they chose their first (and therefore forever notable) performance to be the Vespers of St Martin. Here’s a lovely performance of the antiphon, “Dixerunt discipuli,” from the Vespers service for St Martin:

The disciples said to blessed Martin: Why do you abandon us, father? Or to whom do you leave us desolate? For ravenous wolves will invade your flock. (Ps:Dixit dominus)

Martin’s disciples, realizing he is near death, plead with him not to leave them. The “ravenous wolves” are a metaphor for corrupt or heretical leaders who might harm the spiritual community once Martin, their protector and spiritual guide, has passed. Martin here serves as the pastor bonus, the good shepherd who safeguards his flock through his vigilance. His disciples’ lament highlights the saint’s transition from earthly protector to heavenly intercessor. In medieval retellings and liturgical commemorations, this scene reinforces Martin’s enduring care for the faithful even after death. His memoria continues to protect against those “wolves” through prayer and example.

As new singers, then, this office was a good choice of where to begin. The music for Vespers emphasized antiphons and psalmody. “Dixerunt discipuli” is a typical antiphon in the seventh mode, centered melodically on the fifth above G, with a narrow range. This would have been eminently singable for new singers. Moreover, the gentle neumatic layout, with two to five notes per syllable would have helped with their memorization. Invoking Martin as protector in their first celebration in a new-to-them practice of Latin chant devotions was no doubt an auspicious beginning for what was to be a two-year learning journey. But that is a story for another day.

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REFERENCES

• For a general overview of Martin’s cult, see Yossi Maurey, Medieval Music, Legend, and the Cult of St Martin: The Local Foundations of a Universal Saint (Cambridge University Press, 2014)
• For a review of the growth of the St Martin liturgical tradition in Italy, see Alejandro Enrique Planchart, “The Geography of Martinmas,” In Western Plainchant in the First Millennium (Routledge, 2003).
• A short but approachable article on Martinmas customs can be found in Shawn Tribeon, “Customs of Martinmas,” Liturgical Arts Journal, October 26, 2018, https://www.liturgicalartsjournal.com/2018/10/customs-of-martinmas.html

The North Wall of Brand’s Parish Church: Challenges of Interpretation

The church of Mary’s Assumption into Heaven in Brand, Vorarlberg has a significant set of frescoes dating to the early 16^th century. The church was under construction for nearly 30 years, and consecrated in 1507. I have written about the South wall of the Parish church HERE. The frescoes of the North Wall are the focus of today's post.

As before, there are pairs of images which combine biblical scenes with saints and others, each image framed in a brick-reddish painted frame.

LEFT (Obscured Image and Noli me tangere)

The North wall has had more fading than its South wall counterparts, especially the left-hand pair of images.

Brand (Vorarlberg) frescoes: a haloed figure (above), and the Noli me tangere (below)

The church brochure identifies this pair as “a faded figure” above and the Risen Christ with Mary Magdalene below. 

About all we can tell about the faded figure of the top panel is that it was located centrally in the image and had a halo. However, the curious sweeping patterns behind the figure, combined with the upward gesture of the right arm, and the context of a church dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary incline me toward an identification of this damaged image as a likely annunciation scene. 

Compare the Brand fresco image with the Hallstatt Altar from Upper Austria by Lienhart Astl. Astl positions Gabriel above Mary, gives generous space for his wings, raises his arm in a two-finger blessing, and has a swirl of cape to enhance the angel's body. (Note, however, that I've flipped the image manually to put the angel to the left; the Hallstatt altar can be seen in full glory with its original orientation.) 

So too, the Louvre relief from the early 16th century, stemming from Tyrol, includes a pointing finger, sweeping wings, a superior position for Gabriel, a swirl of cape. These are common cliches in images of the time, which is what remains of the Brand fresco seems to my eye to align with the Annunciation most closely.

More of the lower panel has been preserved, but there's still substantial damage. The Risen Christ has a cross in the background, and we have glimpses of the faces of the protagonists, but the years of plaster have obscured the details of this pair of images. Given the context, this is the Noli me tangere, though the brochure doesn’t explicitly make that claim.

RIGHT (Christ Emergent and Four Saints)

The other surviving fresco pair on the North Wall, although clearer, is equally hard to interpret. The church pamphlet (Fragments, p. 6) identifies THIS top image as an Annunciation – something we would absolutely expect in a church devoted to the Blessed Virgin. Unfortunately, this designation doesn’t seem to match the visible attributes that survive. I think that the image is better read in a Christological context  – and not just because I think that the previous image was an Annunciation scene!

Brand (Vorarlberg) Fresco: Christ emerging from the tomb, with angel

There is clearly an angel, but situated on the right, rather than the left, of the “main figure.” The angel is pulling aside a cloth from a rectangular object – the empty tomb? – signaling the role of revelation or discovery.

The main figure has a dramatic pose with right arm up-flung, unlike Mary who is typically reading or occupied in a garden. Moreover, this standing figure holds a banner and, if I’m not mistaken, sports a short beard. He is cloaked and hooded, with an outsized halo. He faces away from the angel, looking not at the viewer but rather to a spot over the viewer’s left shoulder.

Given the angel’s action, we are likely seeing Christ’s triumphant emergence from the tomb, though why this comes after and not before the image of Christ with the Magdalene is an interesting, but for me unanswerable, question. The presence of a tomb scene, coupled with the Harrowing of Hell on the opposite wall and the Noli me tangere nearby to this image provide a firm Crucifixion-to-Resurrection grounding for the church's imagery.

Below, we find another assortment of saints with halos, evenly spaced.

Brand (Vorarlberg) fresco: Four male saints

The left figure is gesturing to the group with his left hand; the next is wrapped closely in his cloak, the third holds a short sword and wears knee-length britches, and the last is pivoted to look at the group, his hand signaling something extraordinary, his forefinger and little finger both point up; his thumb and the other two fingers are tucked in. The back of his hand is toward us.

That left figure might – might – be St Denis, who was prone to rhetorical gestures. He’s holding something in his cupped hand; it could be a shrunken rendition of his severed head, but that is a stretch interpretation based on knowing the story and seeing the cupped hand around an object.

The wrapped figure might be St Giles, a figure known for reserve and suffering. The sword-holder is most likely Achatius, a martyred Roman military figure

The last figure with the hand gesture is likely performing an apotropaic gesture, one designed to avert evil or bad luck; St Vitus with his protection against seizures and demonic possession seems the most likely candidate.

The Fourteen Emergency Saints: A Program Disrupted?

Given that the South wall started with the three women of the “Nothelfer” saints, Margaretha, Barbara and Katharina, and given the presence of Erasmus and other Nothelfer on the South wall, we can then read each pair of panels as including 3 or 4 of the so-called “Vierzehn Nothelfern,” the fourteen Saints in times of need, though only ten of the fourteen are represented here, highlighted in blue if they're extant, and purple if not:

• South Wall Left:  Margaretha, Barbara and Katharina (below: Anna and Mary)
• South Wall Middle:  Erasmus, Eustace, Cyriacus (below: Mary Immaculata)
• South Wall Right: Harrowing of Hell (below: 4 Men without halos – patrons?)
• North Wall Left: Obscured figure (below: Christ and Magdalene)
• North Wall Right: Christ emerging from the tomb (below: Denis, Giles, Achatius, Vitus)
• Presumed missing panel of the remaining four of the 14 Nothelfer: Blaise, Christopher, George, Pantaleon

To put that another way, we have:

• 2 images of Mary (as child with her mother and as Immaculata). We lack other scenes such as the Annunciation, Visitation, Mary and John at the foot of the Cross, or Pietà.
• 3 images of Christ post-Crucifixion: the Harrowing of Hell, the Noli me Tangere, and Christ emerging from the tomb.
• 3 images that seem to include 10 of the 14 Nothelfer
• 1 image of a group of men without halos 

There are a few oddities I’d like to comment on here. 

First, the idea of the Noli me tangere occurring before the emergence from the tomb is at best strange; our images seem to be out of order. 

Second, the style of that North Wall Christ emergent is out of keeping with the rest of the program. While it may be an artifact of restoration, the scene is almost chiaroscuro in its rendition. 

Third, the conflict of identification – annunciation or Christ emerging from the tomb – is a signal that this particular image is problematic in some way. Expectations are here thwarted. 

And fourth, though I’m not an art historian, and didn’t have a formal measure of tint and tone to hand when I visited the church, the colors of the Christ emergent tend toward the green rather than the coppery backgrounds of the other parts of the program.

What it might mean 

My hypothesis is that the last set of North Wall images might in fact have been over-painted. If the Christ emergent had actually been a panel with the four missing Emergency Saints, the program would be complete. Then, the order of Nothelfer up top and Christological/Mariological below would be disrupted only for the patrons.

HYPOTHESIS: The North Wall Right might originally have been: Blaise, Christopher, George, Pantaleon [later over-painted by Christ emerging from the tomb] (below: Denis, Giles, Achatius, Vitus)

In that case, the intended program might have looked something like this: 

This provides us with a Marian presence appropriate to a Marian church on both sides of the nave. It also completes the full program of the 14 Nothelfer by including all 14 of the 14 expected saints-in-times-of-need.

Moreover, the significantly popular Christopher and George, missing from our current cycle, would be part of the important and complete cycle of emergency saints. After all, they appear frequently without their companions – more so than Blaise and Pantaleon; their omission from the set is indeed a puzzle to be solved.

This isn't the only possible solution, of course. It is possible that the missing four saints were on a panel which has been lost through the adaptations of the church over time. A back wall or front wall placement would no longer be part of our preserved legacy as the church has been adapted to its modern usage.

Whatever has happened with the almost-but-not-quite coherent program of the Brand church, it is clear that the frescoes of this out-of-the-way alpine church have much to tell us about worship in the period immediately prior to the Reformation.

CONCLUSION

The North wall of the Brand church is more heavily damaged than its South wall counterpart, but in some ways that makes it feel even more intimate – as though we’re glimpsing devotional patterns that were deeply local and possibly improvised. There’s less visual clarity, but maybe that opens a different kind of space: one for private reflection or a more personal encounter.

The Nothelfer panel, in particular, suggests concern for daily protection, healing, and perhaps a kind of communal spiritual insurance policy. It's messier, less polished, but still rich with meaning. And what we make of the so-active angel and its triumphant counterpart figure, well, it has certainly kept me pondering through many-an-hour.

I keep thinking of Carolyn Walker Bynum’s work on how medieval Christians engaged with materiality not as distraction but as a conduit to the divine. These frescoes might have operated that way too, drawing attention to the import of sacred signs (with Vitus’s gesture) and the nearness of sacred power. Even in partial ruin, the frescoes pull you in, and ask you, like the Magdalene, not to touch, but to witness.

WORK CITED

[Anonymous]. Parish Church “Our Lady of the Assumption” Brand: Fragments from the Church History Chronicles of Brand / Vorarlberg. [Undated Church Pamphlet.]

Bynum, Carolyn Walker. Christian Materiality: An Essay on Religion in Late Medieval Europe. New York: Zone Books, 2011.

Cyrus, Cynthia. "The 1507 South Wall Frescoes of Brand’s Parish Church (Vorarlberg)" [Blog Post]. Silences and Sounds, June 6, 2025, https://silencesandsounds.blogspot.com/2025/06/the-1507-south-wall-frescoes-of-brands.html.