Now, close your eyes for a moment and imagine yourself standing in Freiburg about 800 years ago. The city is smaller, its streets muddier, and the world feels a little wilder. Back then, outside the original city walls, five separate Dominican convents dotted the countryside-each sheltering communities of nuns from noble, mysterious, and sometimes downright legendary backgrounds. One story even claims the convent’s founder was a high-ranking countess and the emperor’s own sister-though, between you and me, local historians suggest it was actually some helpful chap named Heinrich Vasser and a Benedictine abbess who got things started. Well, who doesn’t love a good founding myth?
The original Adelhausen Convent was established in 1234 in a village that’s long since become part of modern Freiburg. Its nuns lived quietly, cultivating gardens, tending vineyards, and penning mystical tales. Have you ever heard of a nun named Anna von Munzingen? She led twice as prioress in the early 1300s and created a "Sister's Book" filled with stories of 36 nuns-women who were said to experience mystical visions and divine visits. If that's not a bestseller waiting to happen, I don’t know what is.
But life for the nuns wasn’t all peaceful meditation and gardening. The convents moved and merged as wars swept through the region. During the Thirty Years’ War, soldiers and cannons thundered across Europe, leaving convents in ruins. Nuns from destroyed houses found themselves shuffling between private homes and temporary lodgings, all the while insisting on their right to continue their work and preserve their traditions. Eventually, city leaders put their foot down: “With so much of Freiburg in ruins, you get one new convent-no more!” And so, in 1687, the surviving nuns-and the spirit of five ancient houses-combined forces here, on the grounds of the old urban manor near the Gerberau.
That alone would be impressive-but the new convent was built with the help of none other than King Louis XIV of France. I suppose even the Sun King had a soft spot for nuns! He sent funds, soldiers, and a French master builder. Still, nothing ever goes exactly to plan: halfway through construction, part of the church collapsed, and the poor master mason met a very unfortunate end. In spite of setbacks and more repairs, the nuns moved in-19 strong, full of hope, and probably keeping an eye on the ceiling.
Through the centuries, the convent became a wellspring of learning for girls. By the 1850s, there were about 650 students here, squeezed into three classrooms-the original school was so busy, they had to build a new wing. But the winds of change never stop blowing: the convent weathered Joseph II’s reforms and the upheavals of secularization. In an era when monasteries everywhere were being shuttered, Adelhausen survived-thanks to its school.
As the nuns' ages climbed and new admissions slowed, the last novice took her vows here in 1861, then moved on to found a school by Lake Constance. A few years later, with the Kulturkampf-a struggle between church and state-the city officially dissolved the community. Their endowment, however, still supports girls’ education in Freiburg today.
The Abbey’s story doesn’t finish there. These walls have housed classrooms, museums, and even offices. If you listen closely, you might hear the whispers of students from the past or perhaps catch a few notes from the church’s old organ. Today, the former convent is home to the Museum of Natural History, and its treasures are scattered throughout Freiburg-in the Augustiner Museum, you’ll find ancient relics: a traveling altar from the 9th century, statues of mystical nuns, and golden objects as dazzling as the imagination of any medieval artisan. There are rich tapestries, gilded reliquaries, even a legendary skull of Saint Bertha-the supposed founder herself-snuggled up on a velvet pillow. Apparently, even after death, the nuns of Adelhausen knew how to rest in style.
So, as you stand here, take in the simple brickwork and the sturdy cloisters-echoes of centuries-old whispers, footsteps, and laughter. The only thing missing is a spectral nun keeping everyone in line. But don’t worry-if you feel a sudden chill, it’s probably just the Freiburg breeze, not a ghostly reprimand for talking too loudly! Let's continue our adventure-after all, history waits for no one.
