Moon Mausoleum
An online magazine about the paranormal, haunted and macabre. We collect the ghost stories from all around the world as well as review horror and gothic media.
Could Junkerngasse be the most haunted street in Bern? From a former monastery that used to be here, locals complained for a long time about the haunting of a monk who committed a sin so grave that neither his body, nor his soul ever left.
Could Junkerngasse be the most haunted street in Bern? From a former monastery that used to be here, locals complained for a long time about the haunting of a monk who committed a sin so grave that neither his body, nor his soul ever left.
Beneath the elegant façades of Bern’s Junkerngasse and its parallel Gerechtigkeitsgasse, now known for its stately houses, flagstone walks, and commanding views of the Aare, lies a buried past of devotion, downfall, and damnation.
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In medieval times, this street, then called Kirchgasse or Church Lane, was the sacred artery of Bern’s religious life. It wound past chapels, cloisters, and courtyards belonging to powerful abbeys. Among these was a quiet but significant property: the Frienisberghaus, the urban residence of the Cistercian monks of Frienisberg Abbey, who came to the city on church business or for rest.
But for centuries after the Reformation, the house was shunned, whispered about, and eventually torn down. It was said to be haunted by a monk, one who carried a sin so grave that death could not bring him rest.
The Cistercian Order was one of deep discipline and purity, founded on silence, labor, and a vow of chastity. The monks of Frienisberg Abbey, located in the Seeland region northwest of Bern, were among the many religious orders who held property within the city walls. As early as 1285, they owned a house in Bern. In the 14th century, their holdings expanded when the city filled in the old moat of the Nydegg fortress, granting the monks their monastery courtyard next to the Interlakenhaus, the biggest monastery courtyard in the city, a stone’s throw from the Nydeggkirche and what would later become the Nydegg Bridge.
This was not a grand abbey, but rather a quiet urban refuge, a place to shelter monks traveling from Frienisberg. And yet, in this serene setting, something terrible happened.
One monk, whose name has been lost to history, committed the unthinkable: he violated a nun, a crime so heinous in the Cistercian world that it still lingers. The details remain vague, but the sin of lust, in a setting that demanded purity, sealed the monk’s eternal punishment.
After the Reformation swept through Bern in the 1520s, the monasteries and their property were dissolved or repurposed. The Frienisberghaus became a state building used for charitable causes, but its halls were never peaceful again.
For years afterward, locals reported that a ghostly monk would wander the courtyard at midnight, his hood drawn low, his feet never touching the ground. He climbed the stairs slowly, mournfully, only to descend again moments later, as if condemned to walk in infinite, unfulfilled penance. His form was pale and nearly transparent, a whisper of cloth and shadow.
Read Also: Junkerngasse is known as Bern’s most haunted street, mostly because of the story of The Headless Ghost Woman of Bern
Later still, as the house aged and became derelict, the haunting intensified. Groans, sighs, and scraping sounds echoed from the attic. Tools rusted without cause, and workers who tried to repair the building reported a sense of dread they couldn’t shake. During the building’s eventual demolition, something even more sinister was uncovered: a skeleton, walled up in a sealed niche, curled in on itself in a final pose of suffering. His blackened robes and rotted rosary still clung to bone.
It was confirmation of the old fears. Whether buried in secret as punishment or hidden to avoid scandal, this monk had been walled up alive, and his soul had never left.
P. Keckeis & M. Waibel, Legends of Switzerland. Bern, Zurich 1986
Frienisberghaus – Bern City Archive
