Krampus

Hello and welcome to Fab Figmentals, the podcast that explores the realm of curious creatures, magical monsters, and beautiful beasts!

I’m your host, Lindsey Morse.

Each episode, we dive into the folklore and history of a different legendary creature and share a story about it, and this week we’re feeling the holiday spirit here at Figmentals headquarters. In honor of the upcoming holidays, today’s episode is going to be Christmas-themed. But we’re not going to be talking smiling, rosy-cheeked bringers of yuletide cheer. Oh, no. Instead, today we’re going to take a look at the darker side of the season. So, let’s venture into Christmas’ creepy underbelly— and meet Krampus.

Growing up, I always looked forward to Christmas. Like most American kids, when I was little I believed that on Christmas Eve, Santa packed up his magical sleigh full of toys made by his elves in their North Pole workshop, and visited the homes of all the children in the world, sliding down chimneys and rewarding good children with presents. If you’d been good all year, you’d be rewarded, but if you were a naughty little bugger, it’d be no presents for you on Christmas morning. Instead, you might find your stocking full of coal or a switch waiting for you under the tree.

Funnily enough, back then I had no idea what a switch was. The fact that Santa might deliver a branch that my parents could use to swat my bottom was completely lost on me. As I perceived it, the real punishment wasn’t what Santa might bring you if you were bad; your punishment was merely the lack of a shiny new present.

Looking back, we American kids had it pretty good. In other parts of the world, Christmas isn’t focused so singularly on the reward— or lack thereof— for being good. In some places, punishments are handed out freely and mercilessly.

In a number of countries, Santa doesn’t bother himself with both the good and naughty kids; he only focuses on the good ones. Instead of traveling alone, in many places he’ll hook up with an evil partner who gladly fills the role of yuletide punisher.

In parts of France, legend tells of Père Fouettard, whose name translates to “Father Whipper.” Fouettard was once an evil butcher, known to kill and eat young children he lured into his shop. But once St. Nicholas got wind of this behavior, he came to the children's rescue. He resurrected the kids that Père Fouettard had killed, and he took the cannibal butcher into his custody and tasked him with the responsibility of dispensing punishments to the bad children of France on St. Nicholas’ Day.

Then there’s Frau Perchta, a witch who hangs out in Germany and Austria. During the 12 days of Christmas, she visits children— dispensing both gifts and punishments. And her punishments are no joke. If she determines that your behavior has not been up to scratch, she’ll rip out your insides and fill the cavity with garbage.

And then, of course, we have Krampus, who might be the most terrifying sidekick of all.

Krampus is a half-goat, half-demon figure who’s covered in dark fur. He has cloven hooves and giant horns, and his long red tongue dangles, sagging from the side of his fanged mouth. But before you catch a glimpse of him, you’re likely to hear him coming: he carries chains that he clanks and thrashes around for dramatic effect. He also carries a stick, called a ruten, that he uses to swat naughty children. Perhaps most terrifyingly, however, is the sack he carries on his back. He uses this to collect the naughty children so he can cart them away. But to where? Some say he takes them home to eat. Others say they’re going straight to hell.

Krampus has been popping up a lot in Hollywood in recent years— he’s appeared in episodes of American Dad, Supernatural, Grimm, and The League, and was even the subject of a comedy horror movie in 2015. But despite this newfound fame, Krampus has been around for a very very long time.

Some believe that Krampus can be traced all the way back to pre-Christian alpine traditions; it’s clear his goat-like attributes connect him to paganism.

In some European countries, the feast of St. Nicholas is celebrated on December 6th. The night before the feast, St. Nick is said to head out into the streets to pass judgement on all the youngsters. And you know he wouldn’t head out for his big day without his creepy counterpart in tow. This night, December 5th, is known as Krampusnacht— the one night of the year when Krampus is allowed to roam freely and dole out punishments.

Instead of our usual story, I’d like to try something a little different today. I happen to really love spinning a rhyme, so I decided to take a stab at penning my very own holiday Krampus poem— kind of a darker, sillier twist of the classic “Twas the Night before Christmas”. I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you’ll indulge me as I read it here for you now.

But first, get cozy. Kick up your feet and maybe even pause the show for a sec and whip yourself up a nice hot cup of cocoa before we begin. Hell, you might even want to top it off with a hearty glug of Schnapp’s— Krampus apparently loves the stuff, so it’ll help set the scene.

Now, I present to you: “Twas the Dark Night of Krampus.”

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Twas the 5th of December, and all through the town,

boys and girls of Vienna were nowhere around.

The Austrian doors were all shut tight and locked,

but these protections are futile on dark krampusnacht.

Christmas is best known for presents and cheer,

this evening, however, is all about fear.

A small girl named Greta was at her wit’s end,

tucked under her blankets beside her best friend.

They huddled together and racked through their heads,

thinking back through the year and that time with their sleds.

A neighborhood youngster had asked for a ride,

but they’d giggled together and not let him slide.

Could they have been kinder? More free with their toys?

Perhaps next big snowfall they’d play with the boys.

Wee Johan Mueller was also quite frightened,

he’d been rather bratty, but now felt enlightened.

Talking back to his mom was an everyday hobby,

but here looking back it seemed needlessly snotty.

Deep down he knew that his foibles were great,

And now it seemed clear that he’d tempted his fate.

Should he have been kinder? More deferential?

Henceforth, he noted, respect was essential.

They’d both heard the stories, they each had been warned,

of a half-demon goat man with fangs and big horns.

But it’s easy to scoff and to laugh at such stories,

playing outside on warm, summery mornings.

It’s only at yuletide when nighttimes turn cold,

that the fears of past errors can truly take hold.

The moon has now risen, the night has begun.

it’s too late, dear children, to wish things undone.

Try as you might you can’t hope things untrue,

the past year’s behaviors are up for review.

It’s time to bear judgement, repentance is futile,

and punishment’s sure to be swift, cruel, and brutal.

Footsteps outside? A shift in the air?

The scraping of hooves up the porch’s front stair?

Pray little children, and squeeze your eyes tight,

that old Mr. Krampus won’t come in the night.

For the naughty are not given presents and sweets,

but instead might be stolen and cooked for their meat.

Good youngsters are showered with gifts from St. Nick,

but bad ones instead will be hit by a stick.

Shhh! Quiet! Listen! Did you hear that loud clanking?

Rustling chains are a sign that you’re in for a spanking.

Krampus, in chains, with his ruten in hand,

is likely en route to dispense reprimand.

But if you think beatings might make you feel yucky,

you best understand that this outcome is lucky.

For this demon has far greater hell he can offer.

He travels the night with a sinister coffer.

Up on his back he lugs round a wood basket—

which might as well be your small funeral casket.

If Krampus decides you’re an evil wee tot,

then he’ll wheech you inside with one swift, scooping swat.

It’s unknown just what happens to children inside,

but the whispers of legend state each of them dies.

Are they taken to drown? Or charred and then eaten?

Some say they’re in hell— eternally beaten.

So you better start praying; you better hope hard,

that Krampus walks on when he crosses your yard.

And if you survive this most dangerous of nights,

dodging violence & death, and postponing last rites,

then what is the lesson? What nuggets are gleaned?

How will you next year again dodge the fiend?

There is only one way not to fear krampusnacht;

to fall asleep soundly with windows unlocked.

Obey your parents. Be nice to the preacher.

Help out your sister, and learn from your teacher.

Make sure that your actions are thoughtful and pure

and next year you’ll have no great fear to endure.

And if you can change and give badness the kick

you may even earn presents from good old St. Nick.

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By the late 19th century, Krampus lore had become a hugely popular part of Christmas traditions in Germany and Austria.

What had started as way to scare children into being good, had turned into an often ribald joke for the adults to enjoy. 

People started to send each other Krampus greeting cards in time for Krampusnacht on December 6th, the night when the evil ogre was said to appear. The cards, which would contain a humorous rhyme or poem, often with double entendres, usually featured a picture of Krampus looming menacingly over some unfortunate child. However, in some cards, Krampus was depicted as something of a sexual predator, leering at or chasing beautiful young women.

Perhaps things all got a bit out of hand. Spooky kids’ Krampus was one thing, but lecherous bawdy Krampus was quite another!

Added to that, Krampusnacht could get quite rowdy. One writer described a scene from Austria in early 20th century:

The narrow streets in the Old City area of Salzburg were packed with pedestrians as the Krampuses stomped through. Many people were caught unaware and reacted with terror. Some would flee and try to seek refuge in a shop or restaurant, only to be pursued by a determined Krampus. With so many easy targets, we again managed to escape largely unharmed. At times we were chased, jostled and struck, but compared with the brutality we witnessed, it was obvious we had been spared the full brunt of what Krampus could muster.

Faced with these unruly and lascivious customs, in the 1930s the Austrian government tried to ban all things Krampus. In particular, the Catholic Church thought that the legend of Krampus, rather than being an effective way of scaring kiddies into being good, had turned into a way for Austrian adults to be very, very naughty.

Traditional Krampus dances in the Alpine villages were banned, and anyone dressed as a Krampus in the towns and cities would be arrested on the spot. Things got so serious that anyone who wanted to do so much as dress up at Christmas needed to get a special license from the government, just to make sure they would be donning the red suit of Saint Nicholas and not the devil horns of Krampus.

After the Second World War, Krampus traditions in Austria and Germany made a slow comeback, though not without some resistance.

In 1953, an Austrian kindergarten teacher issued a pamphlet denouncing poor old Krampus as “an evil man” and warning parents that celebrating Krampusnacht would scar their children for life.

And, to be fair, she might have had a point.

Nonetheless, as the years rolled by, Krampus came back with a vengeance. Today, he might be more popular than ever! Not just in German-speaking areas, but across Europe and North America, people seem to really love Krampus these days.

I’m not sure what that says about us, that we are drawn to such a creepy and malevolent character? Maybe it’s that Krampus subverts all the saccharine, commercialized Christmas schlock that’s forced down our throats during the festive season. He doesn’t really fit in with the incessant blare of cheery, cheesy Christmas music played in stores and on the radio. He’s unabashedly naughty and never nice. And he’s a freaky demon - pretty much the opposite of the oh-so lovable, goody two-shoes, Coca-Cola swigging, jolly old Saint Nick so beloved of TV specials.

So I’d like to round out this episode with a toast to him. Do you still have that schnapps-spiked mug of cocoa? *clear throat* Cheers to you, dear, creepy Krampus. Thanks for keeping Christmas weird.

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Thank you so much for tuning in to this episode of Fab Figmentals!

Research, writing, and sound editing are done by me, Lindsey Morse. Niall Cooper assists with writing and editing. Our theme music was created by Graeme Ronald.

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Do you have a suggestion for a future episode? Or maybe just want to reach out and say hi? You can get in touch with me via our website, FabFigmentals.com, or on Twitter @figmentals. I’d love to hear from you.

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Thanks again for listening. We’ll be back in two weeks with another holiday-themed episode, in which we’ll explore some of the bizarre and fascinating creatures associated with Christmas in Iceland. We’re going to talk about the Yule Lads, a crew of 13 Icelandic trolls— each with their own unique name and personality— and their mother, an ogress who cooks and eats children.

We’ll see you next time.