The Story of Krampus & St. Nicholas

St. Nicholas was a bishop in the fourth century, in Myra, in what's now Turkey, and he was famous for giving in secret. The story everyone tells goes like this: a poor man had three daughters and no money for their dowries, which meant ruin for them. Nicholas came by night and dropped gold through the window — in some tellings it landed in stockings hung up to dry, which may be one of the threads in our stocking custom. His feast day, December 6, became a gift-giving day for children all over Europe, long before Christmas took on that job.

But up in the Alpine countries — Austria, Bavaria, northern Italy, Slovenia, and around there — Nicholas doesn't travel alone. He brings Krampus with him: horned and furred and honestly terrifying, dragging chains, carrying birch switches and a big sack, and not bringing anybody anything nice. On Krampusnacht, December 5, the night before the feast, Krampus makes his rounds for the naughty children while Nicholas saves his gifts for the good ones. In the Krampuslauf parades, hundreds of people in Krampus costume charge through the streets in the torchlight. Krampus himself is older than his partnership with the saint — his roots tangle in with older Alpine winter processions, like the Perchtenlauf, and figures like Frau Perchta, who rewarded the hardworking and punished the lazy. The Church was never quite sure about him, and over the centuries various authorities tried to ban the whole thing. It survived anyway — and lately Krampus has marched well beyond the Alps, with festivals all over America.

One of them carries the gifts. The other one carries the consequences. It's a very old pairing — mercy and accountability, walking the same road on the same night. In the Grove: we hang our stockings for kindness. And we mind our manners, just in case.