Happy Holidays to the readers of Folklife Today! In our post about Krampus a few weeks ago, I promised a follow-up revealing a little more about the Krampus tradition. It takes the form of a very short and charming story I discovered in the course of my research. Titled simply “Nikolaus und Krampus,” the story is a memoir in which author Ernst von Beisinger looks back at a childhood visit to his home by St. Nicholas and Krampus. The story was published in 1897, in Vienna, and though the city in which it occurs is not specified, I assumed in reading it that it took place there.
The story includes a description of a house-visit by Krampus and St. Nicholas, which was much more subdued than those depicted, for example, in the documentary film “Kranky Klaus,” or the ones described in Al Ridenour’s book. After the saint and the demon arrive, the child is left alone with them, and Nicholas proceeds to quiz the boy to see if he’s been keeping up with his schoolwork. Krampus is there to provide the unspoken threat: if you’ve been badly behaved, or have fallen behind at school, instead of receiving presents you might be given to the demon! As we’ll see, there’s a twist to the tale, and the boy begins to suspect the saint and the demon may not truly be supernatural figures!
The story of Nicholas and Krampus reminded me of another tale I published in this blog, a 19th century story of an encounter between a 6-year-old Costa Rican boy and La Llorona, the weeping woman of Latin American folklore. Both stories show us how parents and other adults use traditional stories of frightening monsters to encourage children to behave.
One last note before we read the story: I’m presenting here my own translation, but I am the first to admit my German is not that good! Like most folklore PhDs, I had to learn it well enough to get the gist of folklore scholarship and to translate passages for comp exams. I am confident that I got the basic story correct, but it’s quite possible I missed some of the beautiful descriptive details. Apologies to any German-speakers for my very basic translation skills! You can read the original story in German at this link.
The most challenging translation issue came at the end, where Krampus is decribed as receiving an “opfer.” This word is usually translated as “victim,” and in a religious context as “sacrifice.” For reasons you’ll understand when you read the story, both of these are rather creepy and disturbing in ways I’m not sure the author intended. I decided to use the cognate English word “offering,” which seems more in keeping with the situation in the story.
Now, without further commentary, here is my translation of “Nikolaus und Krampus” by Ernst von Beisinger (1897).
Nicholas and Krampus: a Story by E. v. Beisinger
I can quite vividly recall that day, that 6th of December, when Saint Nicholas, accompanied by the wild Krampus, was to visit me for the first time. Until then, the saint had always left only his paper likeness between the windows, where I would find it along with all sorts of gifts.
Now I was already a nine-year-old boy in my third year of school, and since I had received many citations of merit for my work, I was able to look forward to the saint’s arrival with peace and joy.
I still fondly remember the magic that surrounded the last afternoon lessons before the evening when Saint Nicholas was to come. As it grew dark, the gas flames burned and cast their light on the glass panels of the two large window-boxes, in which various animals could be seen: squirrels and hares, hedgehogs and mice, ravens and doves, songbirds and colorful sparrows.
But today they all looked quite uniquely different. My child’s imagination surrounded every object with the radiant halo of magical feeling: “Saint Nicholas is coming today,” and when the school bell rang at the end of class, that sound too was so singular, so significant, so promising.
At home, in the living room, the exciting anticipation began; when my parents left the room, I nestled almost fearfully into the soft corner of the sofa and gazed dreamily into the glowing embers of the stove, which, since the lamp hadn’t yet been lit, cast its firelight, making the furniture appear in blurred outlines. The firelight was reflected in the sheen of the red velvet chairs, in the glossy black fur of the kitten sitting in the leather armchair, and in the metallic face of the old-fashioned grandfather clock on the chest of drawers, whose pendulum swung back and forth monotonously. The kitten purred softly. Sometimes the fire crackled in the stove, sending sparks flying, brightly illuminating the old spinet opposite, and against the windowpanes, the fine, icy snow of a December day drifted down with a rustling sound.
Just as the lamp was lit, there was a sudden ringing of the bell. My child’s heart pounded anxiously, and my father went out to see if it was Saint Nicholas. The door opened, and in walked Saint Nicholas in a long robe that shimmered snow-white through a light rosy fabric. In his hand he held a silver crozier, and on his head sat a purple bishop’s mitre with a golden cross. From a gentle face surrounded by a white beard, two mild blue eyes gazed kindly at me. The friendly saint asked me if I had always been good and diligent, but I only dared to answer shyly, for behind him stood an ugly monster of a Krampus. The shaggy brown fellow clanked his iron chain. A bushy tail hung down behind him, and tangled ringlets fell into his black face, from which rose two fiery red horns. I had to read and write for them, and then the maid entered and announced a visitor to my parents, whereupon my father and mother went out, so I was left alone with Saint Nicholas and Krampus. Now I was supposed to do a math problem, but the fear of the two of them behind me made it difficult to find the solution. And since it was so hard, I thoughtfully chewed on my pen handle. My gaze fell upon the mirror in front of me on the wall. What I saw there was beyond the grasp of a child’s mind.
The horns drew closer to the bishop’s mitre, the black face to the white one; the devil embraced the figure of Saint Nicholas with his furry arms and pressed him against his hairy chest; and then they kissed; surely the black fiend couldn’t be on such bad terms with the saints in heaven!
When they finally left, my child’s heart breathed a sigh of relief, for after the two had shared such fellowship, it could no longer believe in the identity of either one.
*
Several years had passed since that first St. Nicholas Day; I had meanwhile become a thirteen-year-old boy and a student at the gymnasium [high school] when one day I was standing in the church. The organ played softly and solemnly; in front of the candlelit, flower-adorned altar stood a girl with a saintly face and gentle, blue eyes, and beside her a man in a black frock coat. I stood behind them both, holding a large bouquet; the sweet scent of orange and myrtle blossoms rose to me, and my thoughts drifted back through the years.
So that’s why Saint Nicholas and Krampus had kissed back then, because Krampus was my cousin and my sister Josefine had been Saint Nicholas. My thoughts were interrupted because the priest stepped to the altar and united the two of them for eternity.
The last note of the organ faded softly through the incense-heavy space of the church. Now the Krampus had finally received an offering.