A Pagan God in the Heart of Christianity
Few would expect to find the roots of Celtic paganism buried in the heart of Christianity. Yet, in the last century, excavations in the square in front of Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris revealed precisely this: two bas-reliefs of ancient Gallic deities, Cernunnos, the horned god lord of nature, and Hesus, his martial counterpart.
History, as we know, loves irony. And it’s difficult to imagine a more biting irony than that of a temple of Christianity, the symbol par excellence of the submission of paganism, revealing in its immediate vicinity the traces of those very deities it believed it had erased.
This discovery is not simply an archaeological anecdote, but the starting point for a broader reflection. Pre-Christian myths did not simply disappear. To survive the tide of the new dominant faith, they had to mix, camouflage themselves, and transform, insinuating themselves into the folds of new traditions. In this article, we will follow the traces of one of these archetypal figures, that of the Horned God. A journey that will take us from the Gallo-Roman foundations of Paris to the frightening masks of Alpine folklore, connecting the Celtic god Cernunnos to the figure of Krampus. A path that reveals the universal cosmological meaning of the passage from chaos to order, a rite that humanity has celebrated since time immemorial.
The Discovery at Notre-Dame: Who is Cernunnos?
During archaeological excavations carried out starting in the 1960s in the square in front of Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris, bas-reliefs depicting Gallic deities were found. Among these, the figure of Cernunnos stood out. The iconography of the bas-relief represents him as a Celtic male deity equipped with horns (or more precisely antlers), a powerful symbol that indissolubly links him to nature, the pagan world, and an ancient and primordial spirituality.
The location of the discovery, Île de la Cité, is not accidental. This was the beating heart of Lutetia, the settlement founded in the 3rd century BC by the Gallic tribe of the Parisii, long before the Roman conquest redrew the cultural and religious map of Gaul. The presence of an effigy of Cernunnos testifies to the importance of his cult in an era when the sacred and the wild were still deeply intertwined.
Deep Roots: Man, Animal, and the Divine
To understand a figure like Cernunnos, it is necessary to take a leap back in time, to the Upper Paleolithic (40,000-15,000 years ago). In the deep European caves, such as Chauvet in France, our ancestors left extraordinary testimonies of their worldview: walls decorated with countless animal figures. This was not simply a love of art, but the expression of a precise conception of reality, which we might call “animistic ontology.”
Present both among Paleolithic hunters and among Amerindian peoples, this worldview presupposes that all living beings, human and non-human, share the same inner subjectivity, distinguishing themselves only by their bodily “envelope.” Consequently, “changing skin” means transforming into another being. This ability to change form was attributed to specialized figures such as shamans, capable of traveling between worlds and acquiring the qualities of animals. It is in this cosmological humus, where the boundary between man and animal is fluid and permeable, that archetypal figures like Cernunnos take root, the ‘Lord of Animals’ whose hybrid form is not monstrous, but an expression of shamanic power to mediate between worlds.
The Ritual of Chaos: Festivals and Masks to Refound Order
Zoo-anthropomorphic figures do not only populate myths but erupt into social life through specific rituals. Many popular festivals, in fact, represented the establishment of a “tempus terribile,” a controlled irruption of primordial chaos that preceded a refounding of cosmic and social order. Through ritual disorder, the community regenerated itself.
A striking example are the ceremonial masked parades of Carnival (Schembartlauf) that took place in Nuremberg between the 15th and 16th centuries. Participants in these processions embodied the mythical figure of the “Wild Man”: they wore animal horns, garments made of goat or sheep skin, and girded their waists with noisy bells. These hybrid figures, halfway between man and beast, brought chaos into the orderly streets of the city, only to be ritually defeated, thus restoring order. This ritual overturning was not a simple festival, but a fundamental social mechanism to reaffirm community norms through their temporary and controlled violation. These same characteristics would be found, almost unchanged, in Alpine masked parades of subsequent centuries.
The Surviving Horned God: Saint Nicholas and Krampus
This tradition of horned and wild figures bringing disorder has survived to the present day, camouflaged in Christian folklore. Krampus, now known as the terrifying companion of Saint Nicholas, existed in pagan and Celtic traditions long before the advent of Christianity. He was a frightening figure who appeared during the passage from the “living” to the “dark” season of the year, embodying the forces of winter chaos.
According to a folk tale widespread in the Alpine area, his “Christianization” occurred as follows: in an era of great famine, shady characters disguised with animal skins and horns plundered mountain villages. Local folklore narrates that among them was hidden the devil himself, recognizable only by his goat hooves. It was then that Bishop Nicholas (the future Saint Nicholas) intervened, who with his spiritual authority managed to exorcise the demon and subjugate him to his will, transforming him from a destructive force into an instrument of justice.
This folkloric narrative serves as a founding myth for the tradition still alive today in Austria, South Tyrol, Friuli Venezia Giulia, and Istria. On the night between December 5th and 6th, Saint Nicholas brings gifts to good children, while his retinue of Krampuses, chained and tamed devils, has the task of frightening and punishing those who have behaved badly. The domestication of Krampus by Saint Nicholas represents a classic example of religious syncretism, in which a liminal figure, embodiment of the untamed forces of nature, is not erased but subsumed and re-functionalized within the new Christian moral system. Chaos is not eliminated but hierarchically subordinated to order.
If We Know How to Listen, Myths Still Speak
Pre-Christian myths are not dead; they have simply transformed, finding a way to survive within new dominant traditions. Our journey demonstrates this: we started from the Celtic god Cernunnos, whose traces rest beneath the square of Notre-Dame, we crossed the classical world populated by satyrs and wild deities, we witnessed the chaotic masked parades of carnival, and finally arrived at Krampus, the pagan demon “domesticated” by a Christian saint.
The final proof of this survival through transformation lies in the fate of the very idea of contamination between the human and animal world. Once considered sacred, an expression of the fluidity of the cosmos, with the advent of Christianity and the subsequent persecution of witchcraft, this permeability between the spheres of the living was definitively relegated “to the realm of the demonic and magical.” Yet, if we know how to listen, these ancient figures still speak. From the deer-god to the hairy demon, their whispers tell us of a primordial bond with nature, of a time when chaos was not only to be feared but also celebrated in order to refound order. One need only lend an ear beyond the patina of more recent traditions to hear how, from the foundations of a Gothic cathedral, a horned god continues to whisper his eternal story.





















































