How the Hamburg Devil lost a deal and became the target of thieves (5 photos)

In Hamburg, in a district with the charming name of Teufelsbrück ("Devil's Bridge"), a creature with horns sits on the banks of the Elbe. It pensively holds a small hare by the ear. The sculpture is called "Der Teufel und der Hase" ("The Devil and the Hare"), but in the local dialect, its name sounds like a whole poem: "De Düvel sinneert över sien Karninken" — "The Devil ponders his rabbit."





The sculpture is a stone illustration of an old Hamburg legend. They say that long ago, a young carpenter was having trouble building a bridge across a marshy area. So he made a deal with the devil: the devil would help him build it, and in exchange, he would receive the soul of the first living creature to cross the completed bridge. The carpenter agreed. The bridge was built. A priest came to bless it, and suddenly a hare jumped out of the bushes. It was the first to cross. The devil, left with the hare's soul, became enraged, and sank into the ground. Since then, this place has been called Teufelsbrück.



A beautiful fairy tale. But the real story of this sculpture is even more interesting. The first figure appeared in the late 1920s. Wooden. Then it disappeared without a trace. It was replaced by another, also wooden. It, too, was stolen. Then there was a third. A fourth. A fifth. A sixth.

By the 1980s, the number of stolen or destroyed devils exceeded half a dozen. The figures were stolen, sometimes turning up years later in someone's apartment. One poor devil was discovered in a rather sorry state: it had been used for household purposes, stripped of its remaining dignity.





Urban legend has it that the devil can't sit still. The municipal services put it more simply: they were just hooligans and collectors of strange souvenirs.

In 2000, Hamburg stonemason Bert-Ulrich decided he'd had enough of this outrage. He carved a new devil out of Elbe sandstone. It weighs almost a ton. The idea was simple: try stealing it.



And they didn't steal it. Since July 2000, the sculpture has stood on the Hans-Leip-Ufer embankment. It is the longest-lasting version of the Hamburg devil. However, vandalism couldn't be completely avoided: the figure was scratched, fragments were attempted to be chipped off, and once even the hare's ear was sawed off (they later glued it back on).



But it's truly impossible to remove a ton of stone. Locals now affectionately call it "Our Fat Devil." If you look at the sculpture from a certain angle, it seems the devil isn't thinking about the rabbit, but is quietly laughing. Artists say this is due to the Elbe sandstone's unique way of reflecting light. Old-timers are certain that the devil still can't get over being tricked by the hare. And he laughs at his own stupidity.