Herr Krampus

In recent years, the question I get from everyone who knows that I grew up in Germany has become "what's up with the Krampus?" He's become increasingly featured in pop culture, and even starred in his own horror-comedy film last year. So what IS up with the goat legged German Christmas monster?

Guten Abend!

As a note, it is just Krampus; there is no "the" before it, as Krampus is his name. It's related to the old Germanic word for claw, which gives you some idea as to his nature! I should also note that in many regions of Europe, Santa Claus and St. Nicholas are two distinct beings and the names are not interchangable as they are in the United States. In Germany therefore you have both Sankt Nikolaus and Der Weinacthsmann (literally "the Christmas Man") who have different jobs and responsibilities. Krampus is sometimes represented today as a companion of the latter, but usually and traditionally he is solely associated with the religious figure of St. Nicholas and his associated holiday traditions.

The Mythology

Mwahahahah.... I mean, Ho Ho Ho!

So in much of Europe, St. Nicholas has specific, named helpers. It's from these helpers that we probably get the American idea of Santa's generic elves. In every region these companions are different; in some regions he has only one, in others he has many, but they tend to fall into a few archetypes. The two more common are the Christmas helper, who acts as a benign figure helping the Saint, and the "anti-Saint", usually a figure who punishes or scares bad children. These figures act as the negative reinforcement to St. Nicholas' positive reinforcement, and perform a role that you might associate with the boogeyman in the English speaking world.

Krampus is most definitely the latter, and is by far the most fearsome. Krampus is half demon, half goat, and resembles the Greek Satyr with a long tongue, covered in chains, and wielding a bundle of branches. The mythological origins of Krampus vary, but I'll share the one I heard most often while visiting the Alpine regions of Germany and Austria as a kid. The story goes that one day while travelling, St. Nicholas encountered a ferocious demon, the son of the Norse Pagan god Hel. The beast challenged the Saint to a spiritual battle, and each agreed that they would serve the other if they lost. Nicholas defeated the demon handily, and instead of simply banishing him, decided to put his wicked skills to use for the greater good. He bound the demon, Krampus, in chains, to serve him for all time. Other origins claim that the two are simply opposite sides of the same coin, or that Krampus follows St. Nick willingly.

On December 5, the eve of St. Nicholas' feast day, the Saint and Krampus appear. This night is often referred to as Krampusnacht, or the Night of Krampus. Usually, the duo have been "at large" since the feast of St. Martin (Martinstag in German, on November 11), but appear to begin their duties on the night of the 5th. Children are visited by the Saint, who gives them small toys, fruit and candy if they have been good, or leaves gifts in their shoes (left by a door or window) after they fall asleep. If the children have been bad though, they do all they can on this day to reform their ways in hopes of avoiding the notice of Krampus.

You REALLY want to avoid his notice...

If a child has been wicked and remains unrepentant, they are visited by Krampus. His punishments are harsh but just, and vary according to the level of evil the child has committed. He may simply give them coal, much like our Santa Claus. If they have been very bad, he will use his bundle of birch sticks, called the Ruten in German, to savagely beat the child to convince them to reform their ways. Children who are in between these extremes may have a Ruten given to their parents instead as a warning. And the worst children receive the worst punishment of all; the Krampus will bind the child in chains, stuff them into the sack he carries on his back, and drags them to the hellish domain to be punished by beings far worse than Krampus himself!

The Traditions

In addition to being used as a threat by flustered parents, there are more tangible Krampus-related traditions. The most famous is the Krampuslauf, or Krampus Run, a type of Krampus-themed parade and gathering. The young men in a village or neighborhood will don handmade Krampus costumes, carefully built during the preceding year, and march or run through the village rattling their chains and being frightening. They can be bought off by offering them schnapps, and by the end of these events the young men are normally well and truly drunk and are chasing their sweethearts and crushes instead of the local children.

During the holidays a  person may visit homes, schools or businesses dressed as St. Nicholas, and he might in turn be accompanied by a Krampus. The Saint will hand out candies or fruit (oranges are traditional), while the Krampus will make fearsome noises and hand coal or Ruten to parents with a wink. These events are most common on the 5th of December, but may occur at any time between the feast of St. Martin (November 11) and Epiphany in January, a period broadly defined as the Christmas season in southern Germany and Austria.

Vintage Krampus

These gatherings were banned during the Nazi era, when the drunken parties that devolved from the Krampuslauf were seen as a threat to public morals. In Germany, Austria, and surrounding areas Krampus' popularity has waxed and wained over the years. When I was a kid it had become more of a rural tradition, but in recent years Krampus has begun to make a comeback with his growing recognition in popular culture. With that said, Krampus has also become controversial in German-speaking countries in recent years, with some questioning the appropriateness of telling such fearsome stories to young children. However, most people agree that Krampus and other "evil" companions of St. Nicholas serve an important purpose as tools for punishment and discipline.

Traditional Krampus Card. The bottom "Gruss vom Krampus" means "Greetings from Krampus" and is the most
commonly featured phrase on these cards. 

In addition to these gatherings, Krampuskarten, or Krampus themed Christmas Cards, have been popular in German-speaking countries since Victorian times. These cards come in a variety of forms; some feature a serious, frightening Krampus, but usually they are more lighthearted. They are often humorous and may feature bawdy humor; Krampus chasing buxom maidens, raunchy poems, and other adult themes are popular. In recent decades "cute" Krampus cards have begun to appear, featuring a Krampus who is cartoonish and more kid-friendly.

Stupid Sexy Krampus! 

The Origins

So how did all of this come about? Nobody is really sure to be quite honest, but most scholars agree that Krampus grew out of traditions from before the coming of Christianity to Germany. Horned animal gods were common motifs in in mytholoy and religion in ancient Germany, and the creation of the Krampus myth may have served to demonstrate the power of the Church over these older gods or devils. Young men dressing as demons or beasts to cause mischief or celebrate festivals became popular in Europe during the high Middle Ages, and the current Krampus traditions probably date to around that time.

Norse-Germanic Horned God featured on a cauldron found in Northern Jutland.

Other Christmas Companions

As noted above, St. Nicholas has lots of companions which vary by region. Here's a few of the more notable ones.

Belsnickel: This guy is popular in Southern and Western Germany, and was featured as a joke in the American version of "The Office". This is the companion that was most common in the region of Germany where I grew up, and I only became familiar with Krampus after our family would travel to Austria for Christmas with a family friend. He's a fearsome figure, but much more friendly than Krampus, and I often compare him to a mix of Hagrid from Harry Potter and Krampus. He's a large bearded figure who may give candy or sweets, or coal or switches, depending on how good a child was, and usually arrives separately from St. Nick. Before Krampus became popular in the US, he was probably the most well-known companion, with certain communities in Canada and the American midwest (especially the Pennsylvania Dutch) retaining the tradition.

Dwight Schrute on The Office playing Belsnickel. He's shockingly accurate!

Zwarte Piet: Zwarte Piet is a sort of generic servant to St Nicholas popular in the Netherlands and Belgium. In recent years the character has became a huge center of controversy, because he is normally portrayed by a white European wearing a renaissance-style costume featuring blackface makeup. The reason for this is varied; some say Zwarte Piet is shown this way to represent to soot he's covered in from going down a chimney, while others say that he first appeared as a Moor, a medieval word used to describe black North Africans. I won't get into the controversy here, but due to the connotations of Blackface in the United States (connotations not necessarily associated with Blackface in Europe) the figure has never become as widely popular as other Companions.

Seriously, I'm not touching this one

Knecht Ruprecht: Usually portrayed as an elderly monk, shepherd, or farmer, Knecht Ruprecht is a generic manservant to St. Nick. He's common in the Black Forest Region and sometimes appears alongside Belsnickel whom he somewhat resembles. He will ask children if they know their prayers or if they will sing him a song. If they answer positively they receive fruit and nuts, and if they answer negatively or refuse to sing may be punished.

Perchta: This witch isn't necessarily a companion of the Saint, but she often appears at Christmas and women wanting to take part in Krampuslauf will dress as this figure instead. In Germanic peganism Perchta was a goddess, but since the coming of Christianity is usually portrayed as a witch or nature spirit. At midwinter she was said to roam the countryside, overseeing the spinning and sewing of young women. If she encountered good and kind children they would find a coin in their shoe or under their pillow the next day; if she encountered lazy or naughty ones she would slit their bellies open in their sleep. Yeah. And you thought Krampus was terrifying...

Some Percthen costumes resemble Krampus costumes, but it varies by region

Schmutzli: He appears in German-speaking Swiss tradition, and is similar to Belsnickel or Knecth Ruprecht. He wears browns robes and has a long white beard, and is often portrayed as the farmer who grows the fruit and makes the food which St. Nicholas hands out. At Christmas he herds the donkey or mule that the Saint uses to carry his gifts, and Saint Nicholas will sometimes call on the gruff Schmutzli to punish bad children.

Like Krampus, Schmutzli also carries Ruten. 

Any questions about Krampus or any of the other companions? Let me know, and behave or Krampus will find you!

Random Facts #6: The Madness of Marshal Blücher?

This is a topic I've wanted to cover for a little while, but never seemed to find the time. Every time I started to write the post it quickly spiraled out of control in terms of length, so I'm going to try something a bit different and do this as a "micro post" of only a few paragraphs. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't!

If you've ever learned anything about Napoleon, you've probably heard of Generalfeldmarschall Gebhard Leberecht von Blücher, Fürst von Wahlstatt, normally known in English simply as Marshal Blücher. If you haven't a quick summary; Blücher served as a Prussian general during the Napoleonic Wars. After Prussia's defeat in the early part of the Napoleonic Wars, Blücher remained vehemently anti-French, and in 1813 assumed a command at the age of 71 to take the fight to Napoleon. He was instrumental in the Battle of the Nations which defeated Napoleon the first time. He became legendary during the Battle of Waterloo, when he led the Prussian forces which relieved the British under the Duke of Wellington to win the battle and defeat Napoleon for the final time.

Blücher is a favorite figure of many Napoleonic enthusiasts because he was, to put it mildly, a bit of an eccentric. After an uprising by Poles living in Prussian-occupied Poland, Blücher staged a mock execution of a priest for supporting the rebellion. This caused a public scandal, and officer was passed over for promotion. This prompted Blücher to write a nasty letter to the king, Frederick the Great (yes, THAT Frederick the Great), who in turn responded "Captain Blücher can take himself to the devil!" Blücher was nicknamed "Marshal Forwards" for his aggressive attacking style, and was no less interesting in his personal and civilian life. He was a notorious womanizer and gambler, in a country known for its austere sensibilities. In his later years he would write:

In my youth I cared for nothing except having fun; instead of studying, I gambled, drank, caroused with the ladies, hunted, and pulled hilarious pranks on my friends. That is why I now know nothing. Indeed, otherwise I would be a very different Chap!

In the 1970 film Waterloo, he was portrayed as a bit, let's say,
unhinged. 

Most famously though, are claims that in his later years he was actually mad, suffering from some sort of dementia or delusions, and it is this claim that this post addresses. These mostly seem to revolve around an anecdote which is popular among amateur historians, and I have seen it pop up in a number of those articles you see online discussing funny or weird historical curiosities. The problem though, is that it's based on a simple error translation and a cultural misunderstanding from the champions of such misunderstandings, the British.



Before the Waterloo campaign, after the Prussians' humiliating defeat to the French in 1806, Blücher suffered what we might now term as a breakdown or a panic attack. He held himself at least partially personally responsible for the Prussian defeat, and spent long hours alone in silence, but he would later recover and come to be a vocal critic of the peace with France. Then after his heroic effort in the winter of 1813-1814 he suffered another breakdown, this time related to exhaustion and stress, in the aftermath of his victory at the Battle of Laon. He was nearly catatonic for a week, but again would recover and come back to lead the Prussian forces to victory. It's clear Blücher was sensitive to stress and possibly suffered from depression, but given the difficult circumstances he faced one can understand this. Nonetheless, at the time these breakdowns, coupled with Blücher's general eccentricity, combined to give him a reputation for madness or dementia.

Blücher with his broken army shortly before his first breakdown

Things came to a head in the most famous case of Blücher's "madness" and one that is a popular anecdote to this day. I've seen this story repeated by history professors, in popular history books, and often online in articles discussing amusing historical events. Of course, it wasn't proof of madness, though on the surface it could certainly seem like that.

During the Waterloo campaign the elderly Blücher once again led his men against the hated French. Outside of Ligny they suffered a serious defeat, and his men broke in panic. Blücher was trapped under his dying horse, and he was run over by his own men and cavalry, and only avoided capture after an aide hid him under a coat. He was badly battered, and because they were in the field and time was of the essence (Napoleon was preparing to engage Wellington, who badly needed Blücher's help) the old field marshal couldn't recieve proper medical attention. An herbal remedy was applied to his wounds, and he fortified himself with liberal drinks of Schnapps. He then led his army in a torturous march towards the field at Waterloo.

Blücher defended by his aide after his horse was shot from under him at Ligny. 

The army followed muddy roads, and as they arrived late in the day Blücher was a site to behold. He was as animated as always while leading his men, referring to them as his children. He was dirty, covered in mud and his own blood, and still reeked of schnapps. The British leadership was, as you might expect, highly amused by the "mad" old Prussian general who had just helped them win the battle.

After the war, things were compounded in the most famous incident, as recorded by by Philip Henry, 5th Early of Stanhope who wrote a book of anecdotes and conversations the author had had with an older Duke of Wellington between 1831 and 1851. In it, Stanhope records a story which had already become somewhat notorious, presumably because it was a favorite of Wellington's. According to Wellington, during their last meeting in Paris in 1815 Blücher had completely lost it. He had been showing off for a group of English ladies (as he was wont to do) and had fallen from his horse, hitting his head. Later , before they parted, Wellington claimed that Blücher believed he was pregnant with an elephant! The specific passage can be found here.

A reserved Wellington meets a hilariously flamboyant Blücher in the aftermath of Waterloo

As a result, the story that Blücher believed he had been impregnated with an elephant by a French soldier became famous. The problem is, Blücher wasn't being literal and had simply directly translated a common German idiom into French. The fact that this was a metaphorical way of speaking was lost on the Duke, and most other English speakers at the time, and was taken at face value.

You see, the phrase "to be pregnant with an elephant by X" in German at the time simply meant that "X" was giving a person a problem, difficulty, or headache. What Blücher had done was made a joke; he had essentially said, "The French gave me such a headache. Can you believe it, French soldiers giving ME a headache?!"  This anecdote, shared by Britain's greatest living national hero, combined with Blücher's eccentric behavior, history of depressive breakdowns, and bedraggled and excited appearance on the field at Waterloo combined to give the old Field Marshal a reputation for madness that simply wasn't true.

Then again, without that reputation we probably wouldn't have gotten great cartoons like this, of Blücher viciously caning a tiny Napoleon. 

To learn more about Blücher, check out the the biography Blücher: Scourge of Napoleon by Michael Leggiere, probably the best single English source on the man today.

If you liked this format, or if you thought it was too short, please let me know! See you next time!