Finding Contessa Tagliapietra

There is a legend in Venice about a lovely girl named Contessa Tagliapietra. She was born in 1288 and died after a long illness in 1308. Her family lived here, in Campo San Vio, along the Grand Canal.

Actually, her home was in the foreground of this picture, closer to the old covered well and the canal, and was torn down in the Fourteenth Century.

Contessa, who apparently gained her title based on her family's role in a war with Genoa, was very devout as a child. She would often cross the Grand Canal in a gondola to pray in the Church of San Maurizio, located on the opposite side. Her view of the San Maurizio side of the canal would have appeared somewhat like this.

As she grew older, her father became concerned that his daughter might be too devout, which could impact the marriage he hoped for her. Unable to dissuade her from her frequent trips to the Church of San Maurizio, he finally instructed all of the nearby gondoliers to refuse to transport her.
Thus, the next time that she set out to cross the Grand Canal to pray, every gondolier she approached denied her request for a ride. Finally, she went to the edge of the canal, took a linen cloth and, stretching it out on the water, stepped onto it and floated across.
There's more to Contessa's story, filled with debates on miracles and myths, cults and devotions. For centuries Venetian mothers would set their infants over the entombed remains of Contessa, praying for their safety in avoiding drowning in the canals.
For some time I've wondered what eventually happened to the remains of Contessa. As noted, her home is no longer standing, nor is the original San Vio Church, where she was first interred. Past writings indicate her remains were next carried to the San Maurizio Church, which was later rebuilt. However, the reconstructed San Maurizio Church eventually was deconsecrated and now houses a beautiful collection of antique musical instruments. Here's what it looks like today. (Pay no attention to the unrelated protest going on out front, or the leaning bell tower from another church in the background. These things happen in Italy.)

While there seemed little question Contessa's remains were moved from San Vio to San Maurizio, what happened next? Were they moved again? And, if so, where?
Needing to start somewhere, I visited the musical instrument museum, and was pleased to see several works of art and engravings from the old church intact. Although the former sacristy was locked, one could look through a glass window to what appeared to be an area for repairing or cleaning old instruments.

However, there were no obvious signs, art or engravings referring to Contessa.
Before leaving, I approached the museum curator, who offered a word of greeting. At the risk of posing what might seem a very curious question, I asked him, as kindly as possible, if he knew of the story of Contessa Tagliapietra. Our conversation, partly in Italian, partly in English, went something like this.
"Hello."
"Hello. Please, I speak little Italian, but do you know of the story of Contessa Tagliapietra?"
"You ask, so I am wondering, do you know the story of Contessa?"
"Yes, I do, how she floated across the canal, and I am wondering what happened to her remains."
"She is here!"
"Ah!"
Recognizing my surprise and interest, he momentarily left his post and led me back through the old church to the sacristy door. He pointed through the window to what appeared to be a small white marble altar, reliquary or tomb, dark on the front, with wind instruments, a statue and some type of box on top. Within the tomb, he said, are the remains of Contessa Tagliapietra.

I hope to write more about Contessa in the future. For now, it's nice to just think of her floating through Heaven as she once floated over the Grand Canal.
Ciao.

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