How the Devil Paid for the Aachen Cathedral

Oral legend mixes the story of the great bronze doors of the main entrance to the Aachen cathedral with the wolf and the pine cone that can be found today just behind them in the entranceway.  The story is below.  The bronze wolf has a circular hole in its chest.  This was supposedly caused by the devil and he tore the animal's soul from his body.  The "pine cone" shaped object nearby, is supposedly the wolf's soul, which the devil threw down in disgust when he realized it was not a human soul.  On the great bronze doors themselves, you can see the crack in the lower right corner caused when the Devil slammed them shut.  And also his thumb, which in the Devil's fury got stuck, can still be found inside the mouth of the lion on the right (and visitors have been feeling inside the lion's mouth for 1200 years to reassure themselves it is still there).   I saying goes that whoever can successfully pull out the devil's thumb with their bare fingers will be awarded a piece of clothing spun of pure gold which is held at the Aachen town hall.  

The Legend of How the Devil Paid for Aachen Cathedral

In former times the zealous and devout inhabitants of Aachen determined to build a cathedral. For six months the clang of the hammer and axe resounded with wonderful activity, but, alas! the money which had been supplied by pious Christians for this holy work became exhausted, the wages of the masons were suspended, and with them their desire to hew and hammer, for, after all, men must have money wherewith to feed their families.

Thus the cathedral stood, half finished, resembling a falling ruin. Moss, grass, and wild parsley flourished in the cracks of the walls, screech-owls already discovered convenient places for their nests, and amorous sparrows hopped lovingly about where holy priests should have been teaching lessons of chastity.

The builders were confounded. They endeavoured to borrow here and there, but no rich man could be induced to advance the large sum required. The collections from house to house produced little, so that instead of the much-wished-for golden coins nothing was found in the boxes but copper. When the magistracy received this report they were out of sorts, and looked with sad faces toward the cathedral walls, as fathers look upon the graves of favorite children.

At this moment a stranger of commanding figure and something of pride in his voice and bearing entered the council chamber and exclaimed: "Bon Dieu! it is said that you are out of spirits. Well! If nothing but money is wanting, you may console yourselves, gentlemen. I possess mines of gold and silver, and both can and will most willingly supply you with a ton of them."

The astounded magistrates sat like a row of pillars, measuring the stranger from head to foot. The mayor first found his tongue. "Who are you, noble lord," said he, "that entirely unknown, you speak of tons of gold as though they were sacks of beans? Tell us your name, your rank in this world, and whether you are sent from the regions above to assist us."

"I have not the honour to reside there," replied the stranger, "and, between ourselves, I beg most particularly to be no longer troubled with questions concerning who and what I am. Suffice it to say I have gold plentiful as summer hay!" Then, drawing forth a leather pouch, he proceeded: "This little purse contains the tenth of what I'll give. The rest shall soon be forthcoming. Now listen, my masters," continued he, clinking the coin; "all this is and shall remain yours if you promise to give me the first little soul that enters the door of the new temple when it is consecrated."

The astonished magistrates sprang from their seats as if they had been shot up by an earthquake and rushed pell-mell into the farthest corner of the room, where they rolled and clung to each other like lambs frightened at flashes of lightning. Only one of the party had not entirely lost his wits, and he collected his remaining senses and, drawing his head out of the heap, uttered boldly: "Be gone!  Thou wicked spirit!"

But the stranger, who was no less a person than Satan, laughed at them. "What's all this outcry about?" said he at length. "Is my offence so heinous that you are all become like children? It is I that may suffer from this business, not you. With my hundreds and thousands I have not far to run to buy a score of souls. Of you I ask but one in exchange for all my money. What are you picking at straws for? One may plainly see you are a mere set of humbugs! For the good of the community (which high-sounding name is often borrowed for all sorts of purposes) many a prince would instantly conduct a whole army to be butchered, and you refuse one single man for that purpose! Fie! I am ashamed, O overwise counsellors, to hear you reason thus absurdly and citizen-like. What, do you think to deprive yourselves of the kernel of your people by granting my wish? Oh, no; there your wisdom is quite at fault, for, depend on it, hypocrites are always the first to enter a church."

By degrees, as the cunning fiend thus spoke, the magistrates took courage and whispered in each other's ears: "What is the use of our resisting? The grim lion will only show his teeth once before biting. If we don't assent, we shall infallibly be packed off ourselves. It is better, therefore, to quiet him directly."

Scarcely had they given effect to this new disposition and concluded the bargain when a swarm of purses flew into the room through doors and windows. Satan now took his leave, but he stopped at the door and called out with a grim leer: "Count it over again for fear I may have cheated you."

The hellish gold was piously expended in finishing the cathedral, but nevertheless, when the building was completed, splendid though it was, the whole town was filled with fear and alarm at the sight of it. The fact was that, although the magistrates had promised by bond and oath not to trust the secret to anybody, one had prated to his wife, and she had made it a market-place tale, so that one and all declared they would never set foot within the walls. The terrified council now consulted the clergy, but the good priests hung their heads. At last a monk cried out: "A thought strikes me. The wolf which has so long ravaged the neighbourhood of our town was this morning caught alive. This will be a well-merited punishment for the destroyer of our flocks; let him be cast to the devil in the fiery gulf. ’Tis possible the devil may not relish this breakfast, yet, nolens volens, he must swallow it.  You promised him certainly a soul, but whose was not decidedly specified."

The monk's plan was plausible, and the magistrates determined to put the cunning trick into execution. The day of consecration arrived. Orders were given to bring the wolf to the principal entrance of the cathedral, and just as the bells began to ring, the trap-door of the cage was opened and the savage beast darted out into the nave of the empty church. Satan beheld this consecration-offering with the utmost fury; burning with anger at being thus deceived, he raged like a tempest, and finally rushed forth, slamming the brass gate so violently after him that the ring cracked in twain.

This fissure commemorates the priest's victory over the devices of the Devil, and is still exhibited to travellers who visit the cathedral.