Speaker 1: Welcome to Brainstuff, a production of iHeartRadio. Hey brain Stuff,
Speaker 1: Lauren Vogelbomb here with a classic episode from our podcast's archives.
Speaker 1: There are a lot of winter holidays, but one that
Speaker 1: we've been particularly tickled to see gaining popularity is Crumpus Knock,
Speaker 1: the celebration of Santa's scary half. Today's episode looks at
Speaker 1: how Crampis came to be. Hey brain Stuff, Lauren vogelbomb here.
Speaker 1: As the holidays close in, parents inevitably remind unruly children
Speaker 1: that Santa Claus is watching them. But there's another lurker
Speaker 1: out there in the long dark night, and he's watching too,
Speaker 1: a thing of fur and horns and cloven hoof. Yes, Virginia,
Speaker 1: there is a Crampus, And for naughty kids, this demonic
Speaker 1: beast man brings chains and switches instead of toys. Every
Speaker 1: December fifth, the Crumpus Knocked eve of the Feast of
Speaker 1: Saint Nicholas. Legend has it that he descends from the
Speaker 1: mountain wilds to terrorize children and drag the worst of
Speaker 1: their lot away in a foul wicker basket. While he's
Speaker 1: not the only Yule Tide boogeyman in Western tradition, Crampis
Speaker 1: has clawed his way to the front of that frightening pack,
Speaker 1: not only surviving within his native Germanic alpine traditions, but
Speaker 1: also managing to achieve international notoriety. Before we explore the
Speaker 1: history and psychology of Crampis, you're probably wondering why Yule
Speaker 1: Tide boogeymen even exist. Surely holidays are a time of
Speaker 1: light and childlike wonder, not monstrous kidnappers. Ah, But the holidays,
Speaker 1: at least in northern latitudes, have always been a time
Speaker 1: of darkness. Sure we like trees, sing carols, and feast
Speaker 1: upon the spoils of hunt and harvest, but the wintertime
Speaker 1: future is uncertain. Will spring thaw our frozen world while
Speaker 1: our crops grow again? Will our larder be enough to
Speaker 1: make it through the winter. That's one reason why if
Speaker 1: you venture through world mythology, you'll pass countless devils, satyrs,
Speaker 1: and horned spirits who all resemble good old Crampus. In
Speaker 1: Greek mythology, for instance, you'll find Hades's abduction of Persephone,
Speaker 1: the daughter of the harvest goddess Demeter. It's a tense
Speaker 1: piece of drama that explains the earth's seasons. Winter arrives
Speaker 1: when Persephone must enter captivity in Hades, and spring returns
Speaker 1: when she emerges again. Each year, the tale serves as
Speaker 1: an iconic reminder that winter is an inherently apocalyptic time,
Speaker 1: pitting the forces of light in life against darkness and death.
Speaker 1: These motifs permeate many early religions, and when Christianity spread
Speaker 1: throughout Europe, these old gods and spirits never quite died out. Rather,
Speaker 1: people wove them into the new religious tapestry. Early Christians
Speaker 1: transplanted the birth of their savior, Jesus Christ to December
Speaker 1: twenty fifth, as this was a date associated with older
Speaker 1: celebrations of the new Sun, that resurgent celestial force destined
Speaker 1: to defeat the long winter, and so Crampis ties into
Speaker 1: a rich legacy of winter darkness, seasonal fear, and pre
Speaker 1: Christian traditions involving harvest, spirits and wild men. But Crampis's
Speaker 1: exact origins are just as uncharted as the uncivilized wilds
Speaker 1: from which he emerges every December fifth. Saint Nicholas, that
Speaker 1: solemn Catholic precursor to Jolly Santa Claus, first gained popularity
Speaker 1: among German speaking people during the eleventh century Crampis became
Speaker 1: part of the festivities over the centuries to follow, but
Speaker 1: he undoubtedly dated back to pre Christian customs surrounding the
Speaker 1: pagan goddess Perchta and her consort of frightening and unruly
Speaker 1: chech Perchtin. These customs never vanished and eventually rebounded By
Speaker 1: the sixteenth century, Pagan schach Perchten processions became a frequent
Speaker 1: part of winter festivities in Salzburg, Austria, despite centuries of
Speaker 1: Christian traditions. Catholic attempts to ban these festivals in the
Speaker 1: seventeenth and eighteenth centuries proved feudals, so a demonic key
Speaker 1: goat earned his tenure in Alpine holiday traditions. In Alpine celebrations,
Speaker 1: Crampis and Saint Nick come to life through the use
Speaker 1: of costumes and wooden masks, but maybe you can guess
Speaker 1: which role is more popular. Fur clad goat men tend
Speaker 1: to parade through the street's unmass every crempis ncht Yes
Speaker 1: to this day. They rattle their chains, brandish torches and
Speaker 1: leap about with wild and indiscriminated energy. As with many
Speaker 1: mask rituals and celebrations around the world, the rights of
Speaker 1: trampus knocked are transformative. They allow participants to abandon the
Speaker 1: conventions of daily life and indulge in a wilder and
Speaker 1: perhaps darker aspect of their personality. As such, it's easy
Speaker 1: for things to get a little out of hand. Many
Speaker 1: processions limit the costume participants to keep everyone from crossing
Speaker 1: that thin line between good natured holiday horror and emotional abuse.
Speaker 1: Back in two thousand and six, concerned parents, along with
Speaker 1: Austrian child psychologist Max Friedrich, spoke out against the demon's
Speaker 1: violent influence as well as what Friedrich called childhood Crampis trauma.
Speaker 1: Somewhere along the line, Santa had been banned from visiting
Speaker 1: kindergartens in Vienna, but Crampis apparently still had access. In
Speaker 1: twenty fifteen, amid the massive influx of Syrian and Iraqi
Speaker 1: refugees into rural Austria, community representatives made special efforts to
Speaker 1: prepare newcomers, especially children, for their frighteningly fun holiday festivities.
Speaker 1: In the past, Crampis detractors have even outlawed the demon outright.
Speaker 1: Before Nazi Germany's nineteen thirty eight invasion of Austria, Catholic
Speaker 1: Austrofascists briefly held power, and, as reported in a nineteen
Speaker 1: forty five New York Times article, they saw Crampus as
Speaker 1: a demonic, unruly and potentially communist usurper of Christian tradition.
Speaker 1: The Crampis postcards and candies have always been popular, but
Speaker 1: around that time Crampis had virtually usurped the role of
Speaker 1: prime gift giver. It was this demon, not Saint Nick,
Speaker 1: who made rounds with sweets and gifts. The Austrofascists ordered
Speaker 1: anyone in a Crampus costume arrested on site. They also
Speaker 1: required that all Saint Nicks be licensed by the state
Speaker 1: and monitored. Despite the continuing war on Crampus and any
Speaker 1: misgivings we might have about scaring good behavior into children
Speaker 1: with the threat of inhuman kidnapping, the tradition not only
Speaker 1: endoors but flourishes. Internet culture and the rejection of homogenized
Speaker 1: holiday traditions have led to a full blown international Crampis revolution.
Speaker 1: Today's episode is based on the article where did Crampis
Speaker 1: Come From? On HowStuffWorks dot com, written by Robert Lamb.
Speaker 1: To hear more from Robert, check out his podcast Stuff
Speaker 1: to Blow your Mind. Brain Stuff is production of my
Speaker 1: heart Radio in partnership with how stuffworks dot Com and
Speaker 1: is produced by Tyler Klang. Four more podcasts from my
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