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Kindly Elves
The most recent development in elf-lore is to see them neither as tall, powerful, benevolent beings as in Norse mythology, nor as tall, powerful, sinister beings, as in later Germanic folklore, but rather as small, shy beings who are usually quite helpful to humans. Although they may still be mischievous, they are rarely malicious.
Germanic “House Elves”
One early depiction of this sort of elf is in 1812, in the Brothers Grimm fairy tale Die Wichtelmänner, known to English readers as the story of “The Elves and the Shoemaker.” In this story, two tiny naked imps help the shoemaker with his work. When he seeks to reward them with clothing, however, they are so delighted that they run away and are never seen again.
It is debatable whether these Wichtelmänner should be interpreted as elves at all or rather as some other sort of fairy being: kobolds, dwarves, or brownies, for example. The word, itself a diminutive of German Wicht, “wight,” which might better be translated imp or goblin. They seem to have a bit in common with the nisse or tomte of Scandinavia, kindly, diminutive sprites similar to the hobs and brownies of England. At any rate, due to the common translation, they have entered the constellation of images to which English-speakers attach the word “elf.”
Dobby and Company
The depiction of tiny, helpful, industrious elves certainly influenced the house elves of Harry Potter more than either of the previous types. There is even a mythological basis for their aversion to conventional clothing. In English folklore, brownies are a type of sprite that secretly tidy up the house and perhaps do other domestic chores. It is said that they always dress in rags, but are deeply offended if ever anyone offered them more suitable clothing to wear. Do this, the legends say, and they will promptly disappear, never to return.
These domestic sprites are often attached to a particular family. In fact, they are believed by some to be the departed spirits of an ancestor. Such is the case, for example, of the domovoi of Slavic folklore. They may be especially associated with the hearth.
In addition to the nisse and tomte already discussed, other iterations of this sort of “elf” are the Spanish duende, the Irish grogan, the Welsh bwbach. There are also an assortment of faery creatures involved in a number of “working-class” functions: the vazila of Russia takes care of horses; the bodachan buachailleen of the Scottish highlands is a herdsman while his neighbor, the bodachan sabhaill, inhabits the barn; the kilmouli of the Border region is a spinner.
Christmas Elves
Louisa May Alcott first mentioned elves in a Christmas story in 1856. Sadly, the publisher declined to print the story. A year later, however, Harper’s Weekly published an anonymous poem titled “The Wonders of Santa Claus,” which begins:
Beyond the ocean many a mile,
And many a year ago,
There lived a wonderful queer old men [sic]
In a wonderful house of snow;
And every little boy and girl,
As Christmas Eves arrive,
No doubt will be very glad to hear,
The old man is still alive.
In his house upon the top of a hill,
And almost out of sight,
He keeps a great many elves at work,
All working with all their might,
To make a million of pretty things,
Cakes, sugar-plums, and toys,
To fill the stockings, hung up you know
By the little girls and boys.
It would be a capital treat be sure,
A glimpse of his wondrous ‘shop;
But the queer old man when a stranger comes,
Orders every elf to stop;
And the house, and work, and workmen all
Instantly take a twist,
And just you may think you are there,
They are off in a frosty mist.
Thus, Christmas elves appear on the scene only thirty-five years after Clement Moore gave us the “canonical” depiction of Santa Claus himself. The depiction of these beings varies from story to story, but they are almost always shorter than normal humans. By temperament, they are cheerful and jolly—as befits Santa’s helpers. They usually dress in bright, festive colors.
Yule Lads: Mischievous Icelandic Santas
In Iceland, there isn’t just one Santa Claus; there are thirteen of them. That’s the good news if you are an Icelandic child. The bad news is that these jólasveinar (or jólasveinarnir) or “Yule Lads” are a pretty rowdy and unpredictable bunch—at least in the earliest accounts.
Like Santa, the Yule Lads reward good boys and girls with treats, which they slip into shoes that have been left on the windowsill. But they also distribute not-so-nice presents to children who have misbehaved, usually in the form of a raw or even rotten potato.
The depiction of the Yule Lads has varied over time and according to location. Their original role was to frighten children into behaving—in short, they were bogeymen. In the earliest accounts, they were mischievous or even criminal pranksters who would steal from or otherwise harass the population. Sometimes, they were simple pranksters. At other times, however, they were frightening child-eating monsters. In 1746, there was even a public decree issued to prohibit parents from frightening their children with stories about creatures such as the Yule Lads.
The Yule Lads are trolls—although that word is actually a bit fluid in the Scandinavian languages and is practically a generic term for any sort of fantastical humanoid creature. They are the sons of mountain-dwelling cannibalistic trolls (or ogres or giants) named Grýla and Leppalúdi (literally, “Hag” and “Ragamuffin”). They came down from the mountains to scare Icelandic children who misbehave.
The Yule Lads have become friendlier in the past century or so due to contact with American Santa Claus traditions. They have stopped being a terror to children, although they are still thieving mischief-makers. At the same time, they started bringing gifts for children and taken a more kindly attitude toward them. They have also largely traded in their original attire of ragged farmer’s clothes for red suits with white beards and black boots. Modern-day Yule Lads are funny old men with childlike minds and behavior.
The modern depiction of the Yule Lads owes much to a 1932 poem, “Jólasveinarnir” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum. Just as Clement Moore’s “A Visit from St. Nicholas” established much of the contemporary American depiction of Santa Claus, “Jólasveinarnir” gives Icelanders their modern-day conception of the Yule Lads. The poem establishes their number at thirteen where before their number varied. It also gives them their traditional names, which all refer to the sort of mischief they are prone to making: Spoon-Licker, Door-Slammer, Sausage-Swiper, Window-Peeper, etc.
The Yule Lads come to town one by one in the days before Christmas, the first arriving on December 12 and the last on December 24. Then, on Christmas day, the first Yule Lad returns to the mountains, followed by the second on December 26, third on December 27, etc., until the last one leaves on January 6, bringing the Christmas season to a close.
The Yule Lads are often depicted with Grýla’s cat, also known as the Yule Cat (Jólakötturinn or Jólaköttur), a huge, vicious cat that lurks about the snowy countryside and eats children who don’t receive new clothes for Christmas. Some say farmers used the threat of the Yule Cat as an incentive for their workers to finish processing the autumn wool before Christmas. Others claim, however, that new clothes were a reward for having been obedient and hardworking throughout the year. Lazy children didn’t get any, which means the Yule Cat can take them.
Krampus: A Foil to Saint Nicholas
In the Alps, Saint Nicholas has an accomplice, a frightening creature called Krampus who punishes misbehaving children. Where Saint Nick’s sack is filled with goodies, Krampus uses his sack to carry off naughty children to his lair. The German-speaking world in fact has a number of traditions about a darker, more dangerous companion who is associated with Saint Nicholas. Between them, they pull off a kind of “good cop-bad cop” routine, with Saint Nicholas the kind and benevolent gift-giver and Krampus and his kin (Knecht Ruprecht, Zwarte Piet, etc.) as the threatening punisher of bad little boys and girls. So no matter who’s coming to town, you’d better watch out!
Krampus is a beast-like creature, although the particulars of his appearance vary from place to place. He has an assortment of animalistic traits including fangs, tusks, horns, and horsetails. There is an excellent article on the appearance and origins of Krampus at Atlas Obscura.
Krampus is the inspiration for the tradition of Krampuslauf or “Krampus run,” in which young men dress up as Krampusi (yes, that is the plural form) on December 5, the eve of the feast of Saint Nicholas, and roam the streets, frightening children. This evening is even called Krampusnacht or “Krampus night.”
Where did Krampus come from? He is clearly a holdover from pre-Christian Germanic traditions. With his bestial form, he bears a resemblance to woodwoses, satyrs, and other wild creatures of the forest. Although the church made efforts to discourage Krampus traditions, they persisted. By the seventeenth century, Krampus had become paired with Saint Nicholas and made part of Christmas celebrations of Austria, Bavaria, and other Alpine locales.
Krampus bears more than a passing resemblance to similar Alpine mythological creatures, most notably Perchten, another satyr-like being. (One is a Percht if masculine or a Perchta if feminine; more than one are Perchten.)
Perchten are the followers or attendants to Perchta (or Berchta or Bertha). This ancient Germanic goddess is a “guardian of the beasts.” In folklore, she is associated with spinning thread, an activity often associated in folklore with destiny or fate. In the summer, she blesses the flocks as the shepherds bring her wool. She oversees the spinning during the twelve days of Christmas, and is very particular about finishing the spinning on time. Any delay is said to bring misfortune on those who are responsible.
Perchta might appear as a stunningly beautiful woman dressed in white or as an old crone, what we might imagine as the traditional “Halloween witch.” Perchta is apparently the basis of the legends of La Befana in Italy and the “White Women” of Germany, the Netherlands, and France. Jakob Grimm thought her male counterpart was Berchtold, the leader of the Wild Hunt in sixteenth-century German folklore, but this may be simply a replacement for the feminine Perchta in earlier versions of the legend.
There are a number of beings similar to Krampus or Perchten in central and south-central Europe. These include the south German Quantembermann (“person of the four ember days”), the Slovenian kvaternik, and the Albanian bardha.
Darrell J. Pursiful 