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Doctor Johann Faust. Great mystics in reality: Dr. Faust

Doctor Johann Faust. Great mystics in reality: Dr. Faust

20.06.2019

Booker Igor 08/05/2011 at 15:43

Everyone has heard the name of Dr. Faust. Became a cult hero of literature back inXVI century eke, he forever remained in the memory of descendants. But a real person named Faust has little in common with his illustrious image, and little is known for certain about him.

According to reliable sources, Johann Georg Faust, or Georg Faust, was born around 1480 in Knittlingen, and died in 1540 (1541) in or near the city of Staufen im Breisgau. His whole life was spent in approximately one geographical place - the German state of Baden-Württemberg. Faust combined the combined talents of an alchemist, magician, healer, astrologer and soothsayer.

If you accidentally see a chubby volume devoted to the biography of Faust on the counter of a bookstore, do not believe your eyes. No, you are not being led by the nose: in that hypothetical book, everyday life at the end of the 15th - first half of the 16th century, the literary and artistic image of Faust, and much more interesting things can be described in detail. There will be no biography of Faust in the folio, since even the most complete and scrupulous biography will fit perfectly on several sheets of A4 format, and at the same time, not everything written on them will be true.

As the contemporary German literary historian Günther Mahal observed, "a jungle of question marks surrounds the historical figure of Faust."

In all the testimonies of contemporaries about Faust, he is called Georg, or Jörg (Jörg). The name Johann first pops up two decades after the death of the alchemist. A sorcerer and healer, Faust at the end of the last century would be called a psychic in Russia. Unlike Kashpirovsky or Chumak, Faust did not have a huge television audience, but his name crossed the borders of not only Germany, but also Europe and remained in the memory of posterity.

Unlike the seven ancient Greek cities that argued among themselves as to the birthplace of the great Homer, only three German towns claim to be the cradle of the famous Faust: Knittlingen, already named above, Helmstadt near Heidelberg and the place of Roda in Thuringia mentioned only in the legend. The victory was won by Knittlingen, which today houses the Faust Museum and its archive. As a matter of fact, the winner was determined thanks to a document that has survived to this day on the acquisition of real estate by a magician in these parts. It is dated 1542.

Unfortunately, only a copy of this document made in pencil by Karl Weisert in 1934 has survived to this day. The original burned down during World War II. The authenticity of the archival document, handwritten by a school teacher, is officially certified by the signature and seal of the then burgomaster of the city of Lehner dated March 3, 1934. In addition to this paper, the testimony of Johann Manlius has been preserved. In a letter to his teacher, written in 1563, he mentions an acquaintance with Faust from Knittlinger, whom he called "a cesspool full of devils" ( Scheisshaus vieler Teufel).

The teacher of this witness was the famous theologian and reformer, an associate of Luther, nicknamed the Teacher of Germany (Praeceptor Germaniae) by the humanist Philipp Melanchthon. And he called Faust, adopted during the Renaissance, the Latinized pseudonym Faustus, which in translation meant "lucky".

After so many centuries, it is very difficult to judge who the said Faust really was. Some saw him as a deceiver, charlatan and adventurer, while others saw him as a philosopher, alchemist, soothsayer, palmist and healer. In some sources, Faust is insultingly referred to as "a vagabond, an empty talker and a tramp-deceiver." Apparently, it was about a wandering magician.

By the way, it is worth noting that even today some people are negatively disposed towards psychics (while they did not approach them even a cannon shot), others were cautious out of envy of their success, etc. In addition, until 1506 there is not a single document that would highlight the activities of Dr. Faust.

In one of the letters, our hero is attested with the following words: "Master Georg Sabellicus Faust Jr. (Georg Sabellicus Faust der Jüngere) is a storehouse for necromancers, an astrologer, the second of magicians, a palmist, an aeromancer, a pyromancer, the second of hydromancers." Perhaps this is an example of a successful "PR" of the sorcerer, who pretended to be a specialist in reading lines on his hand, in clouds, fog and the flight of birds (auspices), as well as being able to predict and guess by fire, water and smoke.

The Vatican Library has preserved a letter from the Benedictine abbot from Würzburg Johannes Trithemius (Iohannes Trithemius), sent by him on August 20, 1507 to the mathematician and court astrologer in Heidelberg Johann Firdung (Johann (es) Virdung, 1463-1535), in which the Kabbalist Trithemius describes the tricks of Faust with boys. According to this learned man, when the pedophile Faust was threatened with exposure of his homosexual addictions, he disappeared. Dr. Faust was called the great sodomite and necromancer in documents that are stored in the archives of the city of Nuremberg.

According to the abbot Trithemius, Faust boasted of such knowledge of all sciences and such a memory that if all the works of Plato and Aristotle and all their philosophy were completely forgotten, then he, “like the new Ezra of Judea, would completely restore them from memory even in a more elegant form". And also, as Faust said more than once, he "takes at any time and any number of times to do everything that the Savior did," says Trithemius.

It is not known whether Trithemius was an initiate, but some have argued that he predicted a schism two years before the appearance of Luther, an English translator of his works announced a fire in London in 1647 that would devastate the capital of this island 19 years later.

The natural philosopher Johann Trithemius, whose students were the notorious Agrippa Nettesheim and Theophrastus Paracelsus, spoke rather dismissively about Faust and his abilities, which involuntarily makes one wonder if it was envy that drove him with a pen and whether he was slandering his fellow craftsmen.

However, much more was told about other abilities of the magician and wizard, which resembled more circus tricks than playful adventures with boys. During another toast in honor of a drinking buddy, Faust in a tavern swallowed a boy servant who poured wine over the edge of a mug. And once at the fair, Faust covered a basket with chicken eggs with his cloak, and chickens immediately hatched from it. In Vogel's Leipzig Chronicle it is written: "There are rumors among the people that once, when the cellarers in the Auerbach wine cellar could not roll out an unopened barrel of wine, the famous warlock Dr. Faust mounted it and by the power of his spell the barrel itself jumped into the street" .

In 1520, Faust compiled a birth chart for the influential Archbishop-Elector George III of Bamberg. It should be noted that this is a sign of considerable recognition of the merits of the sorcerer, since His Eminence was one of the highest church hierarchs in the German-speaking countries. "Also, X guilders were given and sent to Dr. Faustus the Philosopher," the archbishop-elector's valet pedantically testified in lowercase letters. Ten guilders at that time was a princely payment.

Data on the life of the historical Faust are very scarce. He was apparently born around 1480 in the city of Knittlingen, in 1508, through Franz von Sickingen, he received the position of a teacher in Kreuznach, but had to rush from there because of the persecution of his fellow citizens. As a warlock and astrologer, he traveled around Europe, posing as a great scientist, boasted that he could perform all the miracles of Jesus Christ or recreate from the depths of his knowledge all the works of Plato and Aristotle, if they ever died for humanity (from a letter learned abbot Trithemius, 1507).

In 1539 his trace is lost.

In the Renaissance, when faith in magic and the miraculous was still alive, and, on the other hand, outstanding victories were won by science liberated from the bonds of scholasticism, portrayed by many as the fruit of the union of a daring mind with evil spirits, the figure of Dr. Faust quickly acquired legendary outlines and wide popularity. In 1587 in Germany, in the edition of Spies, the first literary adaptation of the Faust legend appeared, the so-called folk book about Faust: Historia von Dr. Johann Fausten, dem weitbeschreiten Zauberer und Schwartzkünstler etc. (The story of Dr. Faust, the famous wizard and warlock). The book includes episodes dated at a close time to various sorcerers (Simon the Magus, Albert the Great, etc.) and attributed to Faust in it. In addition to oral legends, the source of the book was modern writings on witchcraft and secret knowledge (books by the theologian Lerheimer, a student of Melanchthon: Ein Christlich Bedencken und Erinnerung von Zauberey, 1585; a book by I. Vir, a student of Agrippa Nettesheim: De praestigiis daemonum, 1563, German translation 1567 , and etc.). The author, apparently a Lutheran cleric, portrays Faust as a daring wicked man who entered into an alliance with the devil in order to acquire great knowledge and power (Faust grew eagle wings and wanted to make his way and explore all the foundations of heaven and earth. Nothing else is reflected in his falling away, as arrogance, hopelessness, audacity and courage, similar to those titans that poets narrate about, that they piled mountains on mountains and wanted to fight against God, or similar to an evil angel, the one that opposed himself to God, for which he was overthrown by God as brash and arrogant). The final chapter of the book tells about the terrible and terrifying end of Faust: he is torn apart by demons, and his personality goes to hell. It is characteristic at the same time that Faust is given the features of a humanist. These features are dramatically enhanced in the 1589 edition.

In 1603, Pierre Caillé publishes a French translation of the popular book about Faust.

Faust gives lectures on Homer at the University of Erfurt, at the request of students calls the shadows of the heroes of classical antiquity, etc. The humanists' passion for antiquity is personified in the book as a godless connection between the lustful Faust and Beautiful Helen. However, despite the author's inclination to condemn Faust for his godlessness, pride and daring, the image of Faust is still fanned with a certain heroism; in his face, the whole time of the Renaissance is closely reflected with its inherent thirst for unlimited knowledge, the cult of unlimited possibilities of the individual, a powerful rebellion against medieval quietism, dilapidated church-feudal norms and foundations.

The popular book about Faust was used by the British playwright of the 16th century. Christopher Marlo, who wrote the first dramatic treatment of the legend. His misfortune The tragical history of the life and death of Doctor Faustus (ed. in 1604, 4th ed., 1616) , 1899, July and August) depicts Faust as a titan, overcome by a thirst for knowledge, wealth and power. Marlo enhances the heroic features of the legend, turning Faust into a bearer of the heroic elements of the European Renaissance. From the folk book, Marlo learns the alternation of serious and comic episodes, as well as the tragic ending of the legend of Faust, the ending, which is connected with the theme of the condemnation of Faust and his daring impulses.

Apparently, at the beginning of the 17th century, the drama of Marlowe was brought by English wandering comedians to Germany, where it was transformed into a puppet comedy, which is gaining significant distribution (by the way, Goethe owes a lot to her when creating his Faust). The folk book also underlies the lengthy work of G. R. Widman on Faust (Widman, Wahrhaftige Historie, etc.), published in Hamburg in 1598. Widman, in contrast to Marlo, strengthens the moralistic and clerical-didactic tendencies of the folk book. For him, the story of Faust is primarily a story about the terrible and disgusting sins and misdeeds of the famous warlock; he pedantically furnishes a close exposition of the legend of Faust with the necessary reminders and excellent examples, which should serve as a general instruction and warning.

In the footsteps of Widmann went Pfitzer (Pfitzer), released in 1674 his version of the folk book about Faust.

The subject of Faust gained exceptional popularity in Germany in the second half of the 18th century. among the writers of the Sturm und Drang period [Lessing fragments of an unrealized play, Müller the painter Beda Fausts Leben dramatisiert (Life of Faust, 1778), Klinger's novel Fausts Leben, Thaten und Höllenfahrt (Life, deeds and death of Faust, 1791, Russian translation by A. Luther, Moscow, 1913), Goethe's drama Faust (17741831), Russian translation by N. Kholodkovsky (1878), A. Fet (18821883), V. Bryusov (1928), etc.]. Faust attracts writers-stormers with his daring titanism, his rebellious encroachment on traditional norms. Under their pen, he acquires the features of a stormy genius, violating the laws of the surrounding world in the name of unlimited individual rights. The Stürmers were also attracted by the gothic flavor of the legend, its irrational ingredient. At the same time, the sturmers, especially Klinger, combine the theme of Faust with sharp criticism of the feudal-absolutist order (in particular, the picture of the atrocities of the old world in Klinger's novel: the arbitrariness of the feudal lord, the crimes of monarchs and clergy, the corruption of the ruling classes, portraits of Louis XI, Alexander Borgia, etc. .).

Main article: Faust (drama by Goethe)

Dr. Faust The subject of Faust reaches its most powerful artistic expression in the tragedy of Goethe. The whole versatility of Goethe, the whole depth of his literary, philosophical and scientific searches was reflected in the tragedy with significant relief: his battle for a realistic worldview, his humanism, etc.

If in Prafaust (1774-1775) the drama still has a fragmentary character, then with the appearance of the prologue In Heaven (written 1797, published in 1808), it acquires the grandiose outlines of a kind of humanistic mystery, all the countless episodes of which are united by the unity of artistic design. Faust grows into a colossal figure. He is a symbol of the possibilities and destinies of mankind. His victory over quietism, over the spirit of denial and disastrous emptiness (Mephistopheles) marks the triumph of the creative forces of humanity, its indestructible vitality and creative power. But on the way to victory, Faust is destined to overcome the path of a system of educational steps. From the small world of burgher everyday life, he enters the large world of aesthetic and civic interests, the boundaries of the sphere of his activity are expanding, they include more and more new areas, while Faust does not reveal the cosmic expanses of the final scenes, where the searching creative spirit of Faust merges with the creative ones. the forces of the universe. The tragedy is permeated with the pathos of creativity. Here there is nothing frozen, unshakable, there is all movement, formation, incessant growth, a healthy creative move, reproducing itself at ever higher levels.

In this regard, the very, very image of Faust is significant as a tireless seeker of the right path, alien to the desire to plunge into inactive peace; the hallmark of Faust's character is discontent (Unzufriedenheit), always pushing him on the path of relentless action. Faust ruined Gretchen, as he grew eagle wings for himself, and they draw him outside the stuffy burgher chamber; he does not close himself in the world of art and perfect beauty, because the realm of classical Helena turns out to be only an aesthetic appearance in the end. Faust longs for a great cause, tangible and fruitful, and he ends his existence as the leader of a free people, the one who builds near prosperity on a free land, winning nature's right to fortune. Hell loses its power over Faust. The indefatigably active Faust, having found the right path, is honored with a cosmic apotheosis. Thus, under the pen of Goethe, the old fairy tale about Faust takes on a strongly humanistic character. It should be noted that the final scenes of Faust were written during the period of the rapid rise of young European capitalism and partly reflected the successes of capitalist progress. However, Goethe's greatness lies in the fact that he already saw the dark sides of the new social relations and in his poem tried to rise above them.

At the beginning of the XIX century. the image of Faust attracted romantics with its gothic outlines. Faust the wandering charlatan of the 16th century. appears in Arnim's novel Die Kronenwächter, I Bd., 1817 (Guardians of the Crown). The legend of Faust was developed by Grabbe (Don Juan und Faust, 1829, Russian translation by I. Kholodkovsky in the journal Vek, 1862), Lenau (Faust, 18351836, Russian translation by A. Anyutin [A. V. Lunacharsky], St. Petersburg, 1904 , the same, translated by N. A-nsky, St. Petersburg, 1892), Heine ["Faust" (a poem intended for dancing, Der Doctor Faust. Ein Tanzpoem, 1851), etc.]. Lenau, the author of Goethe's most significant development of the theme of Faust, depicts Faust as an ambivalent, wavering, doomed rebel.

In vain dreaming of uniting the world, God and himself, Faust Lenau falls victim to the intrigues of Mephistopheles, in which the forces of evil and corrosive skepticism are embodied, making him related to Goethe's Mephistopheles. The spirit of denial and doubt triumphs over the rebel, whose impulses turn out to be wingless and worthless. Lenau's poem marks the beginning of the collapse of the humanistic concept of the legend. Under the conditions of mature capitalism, the subject of Faust in its Renaissance-humanistic interpretation could no longer find a full-fledged embodiment. The Faustian spirit flew away from bourgeois culture, and not inadvertently at the end of the 19th and 20th centuries. we do not have artistically significant adaptations of the legend of Faust.

In Russia, A. S. Pushkin paid tribute to the legend of Faust in his wonderful Scene from Faust. We meet with echoes of Goethe's Faust in A. K. Tolstoy's Don Giovanni (prologue, Faustian features of Don Giovanni, languishing over the solution of life, direct reminiscences from Goethe) and in the story in the letters of I. S. Turgenev's Faust.

In the XX century. The most interesting formation of the theme of Faust was given by A. V. Lunacharsky in his drama for reading Faust and the City (written in 1908, 1916, published by Narkompros, P., in 1918). Based on the final scenes of the second part of Goethe's tragedy, Lunacharsky draws Faust as an enlightened monarch, dominating the country he conquered from the sea. However, the population patronized by Faust is already ripe for liberation from the bonds of autocracy, a revolutionary upheaval is taking place, and Faust welcomes what has happened, seeing in it the realization of his long-standing dreams of a free people in a free land. The play reflects a premonition of a social upheaval, the beginning of a new historical era. The motives of the Faustian legend attracted V. Ya. Bryusov, who left a perfect translation of Goethe's Faust (part 1 published in 1928), the story The Fiery Angel (1907-1908), and also the poem Klassische Walpurgisnacht (1920).

List of works

Historia von Dr. Johann Fausten, dem weitbeschreiten Zauberer und Schwartzkünstler etc. (The story of Dr. Faust, the famous magician and warlock), (1587)

G. R. Widman, Wahrhaftige Historie etc., (1598)

Achim von Arnim Die Kronenwächter (Guardians of the Crown), (1817)

Heinrich Heine: Faust (Der Doktor Faust. Ein Tanzpoem), poem assigned to dance (1851)

Theodor Storm: Field-Puppeteer (Pole Poppenspäler), short story (1875)

Heinrich Mann: Teacher Gnus (Professor Unrat), (1904)

Thomas Mann: Doctor Faustus (1947)

Roman Möhlmann: Faust und die Tragödie der Menschheit (2007)

Roger Zelazny & Robert Sheckley: "If at Faust you don't succeed" (1993).

Also read the biographies of famous people:

Johann Dreze Johann Dreze

Johann Bach

Johann Denner Johann Denner

German music master, considered the inventor of the clarinet.

Or “recreate from the depths of your subconscious all the works of Plato and Aristotle, if they ever died for humanity” (from a letter from the learned abbot Trithemius, 1507). In 1532, the authorities of Nuremberg forbade the entry into the city of "the great sodomite and necromancer Doctor Faust" ( Doctor Faustus, dem großen Sodomiten und Nigromantico in furt glait ablainen) . After 1539, his trace is lost.

"People's book"

Faust by Goethe

The theme of Faust reaches its most powerful artistic expression in Goethe's tragedy of the same name. The whole versatility of Goethe, the whole depth of his literary, philosophical and scientific searches was reflected in the tragedy with significant relief: his struggle for a realistic worldview, his humanism, etc. Goethe's name for Faust is Heinrich, not Johann.

If in Prafaust (1774-1775) the tragedy is still fragmentary, then with the appearance of the prologue In Heaven (written 1797, published in 1808), it acquires the grandiose outlines of a kind of humanistic mystery, all the numerous episodes of which are united by the unity of artistic design. Faust grows into a colossal figure. He is a symbol of the possibilities and destinies of mankind. His victory over quietism, over the spirit of denial and disastrous emptiness (Mephistopheles) marks the triumph of the creative forces of mankind, its indestructible vitality and creative power. But on the way to victory, Faust is destined to go through a series of "educational" steps. From the "small world" of burgher everyday life, he enters the "big world" of aesthetic and civic interests, the boundaries of the sphere of his activity are expanding, they include more and more new areas, until the cosmic expanses of the final scenes are revealed before Faust, where the searching creative spirit of Faust merges with creative forces of the universe. The tragedy is permeated with the pathos of creativity. Here there is nothing frozen, unshakable, everything here is movement, development, incessant "growth", a powerful creative process that reproduces itself at ever higher levels.

In this regard, the very image of Faust is significant - a tireless seeker of the "right path", alien to the desire to plunge into inactive peace; the hallmark of Faust's character is "discontent" (Unzufriedenheit), forever pushing him on the path of relentless action. Faust ruined Gretchen, as he grew eagle wings for himself, and they draw him outside the stuffy burgher chamber; he does not close himself in the world of art and perfect beauty, because the realm of classical Helen turns out to be just an aesthetic appearance in the end. Faust longs for a great cause, tangible and fruitful, and he ends his life as the leader of a free people who builds their well-being on a free land, winning the right to happiness from nature. Hell loses its power over Faust. The indefatigably active Faust, having found the "right path", is honored with a cosmic apotheosis. Thus, under the pen of Goethe, the old legend about Faust takes on a profoundly humanistic character. It should be noted that the closing scenes of Faust were written during the period of the rapid rise of young European capitalism and partly reflected the successes of capitalist progress. However, Goethe's greatness lies in the fact that he already saw the dark sides of the new social relations and in his poem tried to rise above them.

In the era of romanticism

At the beginning of the XIX century. the image of Faust attracted romantics with its gothic outlines. Faust is a wandering charlatan of the 16th century. - appears in Arnim's novel Guardians of the Crown (1817). The legend of Faust was developed by Grabbe (“Don Juan and Faust”, 1829, Russian translation by N. Kholodkovsky in the journal “Vek”, 1862), Lenau (“Faust”, 1835-1836, Russian translation by A. Anyutin, St. Petersburg , 1904, the same, translated by N. A-nsky, St. Petersburg, 1892), Heine (“Faust. A poem intended for dancing”, 1847), etc. Lenau, the author of the most significant development of the theme of Faust after Goethe, depicts Faust ambivalent, wavering, doomed rebel.

In vain dreaming of "connecting the world, God and himself," Faust Lenau falls victim to the machinations of Mephistopheles, who embodies the forces of evil and corrosive skepticism that make him related to Goethe's Mephistopheles. The spirit of denial and doubt triumphs over the rebel, whose impulses turn out to be wingless and worthless. Lenau's poem marks the beginning of the collapse of the humanistic concept of the legend.

In Russia

In Russia, A. S. Pushkin paid tribute to the legend of Faust in his wonderful. We meet echoes of Goethe's "Faust" in "Don Juan" by A. K. Tolstoy (the prologue, the Faustian features of Don Juan, languishing over the solution of life - direct reminiscences from Goethe) and in the story in the letters of I. S. Turgenev.

In his drama for reading "" (1908, 1916) A. V. Lunacharsky, based on the final scenes of the second part of Goethe's tragedy, draws Faust as an enlightened monarch, dominating the country he conquered from the sea. However, the people guarded by Faust is already ripe for liberation from the bonds of autocracy, a revolutionary upheaval is taking place, and Faust welcomes what has happened, seeing in it the realization of his long-standing dreams of a free people in a free land. The play reflects a premonition of social revolution.

The motives of the Faustian legend attracted V. Ya. Bryusov, who left a complete translation of Goethe's Faust (part 1 published in 1928), the novel The Fiery Angel (1907-1908), and also the poem Klassische Walpurgisnacht (1920).

List of works

Historia von Dr. Johann Fausten, dem weitbeschreiten Zauberer und Schwartzkünstler etc. (The story of Dr. Faust, the famous wizard and warlock), (1587)
G. R. Widman, Wahrhaftige Historie etc., (1598)
Achim von Arnim. "Die Kronenwächter" (Guardians of the Crown), (1817)
Friedrich Maximilian Klinger: Faust, his life, deeds and overthrow into hell (Fausts Leben, Thaten und Höllenfahrt)(1791) Theodor Storm: Ernst
August Klingemann (Ernst August Klingemann): Faust (1816) Field-Puppeteer (Pole Poppenspäler), short story (1875)
Heinrich Mann: Teacher Gnus (Professor Unrat), (1904)
Thomas Mann : Doctor Faustus (Doctor Faustus) (1947)
Roger Zelazny, Robert Sheckley: "If at Faust you don't succeed" (Roger Zelazny & Robert Sheckley: "If at Faust you don't succeed") (1993)
Michael Swanwick: Jack Faust (Jack Faust) (1997)
Roman Mohlmann: Faust und die Tragodie der Menschheit (2007)
Adolfo Bioy Casares, Faust's Eve (1949)
Johann Spies: "The legend of Dr. Johann Faust, the great and illustrious sorcerer, magician and deceiver."
Christopher Marlo: The Tragic History of Doctor Faustus, (1590)
John Rich: The Necromancer (1723)
Goethe:
- Prafaust (Urfaust)
- Faust, ch. 1 (Faust I)
- Faust, part 2 (Faust II)
Friedrich Müller: Faust's Leben (Faust), (1778)
Christian Dietrich Grabbe: Don Juan and Faust (1828)
A. S. Pushkin. Scene from "Faust"
Nikolaus Lenau: Faust (1836)
Heinrich Heine: Faust (Der Doktor Faust. Ein Tanzpoem), a poem assigned for dancing (ballet libretto) (1851)
I. S. Turgenev. Faust, (1856)
Friedrich Theodor Fischer: Faust. Tragedy in two parts (Faust. Der Tragödie dritter Teil) (1862)
A. V. Lunacharsky: , 1908
Michel de Gelderode. Death of Doctor Faust, 1926
Yuri Yurchenko. Faust and Elena, tragedy in verse in three acts, magazine Playwright No. 4, 1994; publishing house ACADEMIA, M., 1999.
Dorothy Sayers: (The Devil to Pay) (1939)
wolfgang bauer: Herr Faust spielt Roulette (Herr Faust plays roulette) (1986)
Günther Mahal (Hrsg.): Doktor Johannes Faust - Puppenspiel (Dr. Johannes Faust - Puppet Theatre).
Werner Schwab: Faust: Mein Brustkorb: Mein Helm. (1992)
Pohl, Gerd-Josef: Faust - Geschichte einer Höllenfahrt, 1995

The image of Faust in other arts

In fine arts

Faust also appears in the Guilty Gear anime-style fighting game series. However, unlike the real Faust, this character has nothing to do with Mephistopheles, although he was also a doctor. According to the legend of the game, one day a girl died during an operation, and Faust went crazy. Putting a bag over his head and taking his scalpel with him, he began to fight the Gears in an attempt to defend his ideas and principles.

One of the characters in the Shaman King anime is Faust VIII, a direct descendant of the legendary warlock. This Faust is a brilliant doctor, fanatically devoted to the revival of his tragically deceased wife Eliza with the help of the art of black magic, drawn from the tomes of his ancestor.

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Notes

Bibliography

Faligan Z., Histoire de la légende de Faust, P., 1888;
Fischer K., Goethes Faust, Bd I. Die Faustdichtung vor Goethe, 3. Aufl., Stuttgart, 1893;
Kiesewetter C., Faust in der Geschichte und Tradition, Lpz., 1893;
Frank R., Wie der Faust entstand (Urkunde, Sage und Dichtung), B., 1911;
Die Faustdichtung vor, neben und nach Goethe, 4 Bde, B., 1913;
Gestaltungen des Faust (Die bedeutendsten Werke der Faustdichtung, seit 1587), hrsg. v. H. W. Geissler, 3 Bde, Munich, 1927;
Bauerhorst K., Bibliographie der Stoff- und Motiv-Geschichte der deutschen Literatur, B. - Lpz., 1932;
Korelin M., Western legend about Dr. Faust, Vestnik Evropy, 1882, book. 11 and 12;
Frishmut M., Faust type in world literature, Vestnik Evropy, 1887, book. 7-10 (reprinted in the book: Frishmut M., Critical essays and articles, St. Petersburg, 1902);
Beletsky AI, The legend of Faust in connection with the history of demonology, "Notes of the Neophilological Society at St. Petersburg University", vol. V and VI, 1911-1912;
Zhirmunsky V., Goethe in Russian Literature, Leningrad, 1937.
Rigby L. Faust / Per. from English. D. Kuntashova. - M.: Veche, 2012. - 416 p., ill. - (Great historical figures). - 2000 copies, ISBN 978-5-9533-5154-6
Black Book of Johann Faust. Volume I. Natural and unnatural magic / N. Novgorod, 2015. - ISBN 978-5-99069-24-4-2
Black Book of Johann Faust. Volume II. Grimoires of the Great Warlock / N. Novgorod, 2015. - ISBN 978-5-9907322-0-9

Excerpt characterizing Faust, Johann Georg

Natasha quickly rushed between the tubs of flowers and hid.
Boris stopped in the middle of the room, looked around, brushed a speck off the sleeve of his uniform with his hand, and went up to the mirror, examining his handsome face. Natasha, hushed, peered out of her ambush, waiting for what he would do. He stood for some time in front of the mirror, smiled and went to the exit door. Natasha wanted to call him, but then changed her mind. Let him search, she told herself. As soon as Boris left, a flushed Sonya came out of another door, whispering something angrily through her tears. Natasha refrained from her first movement to run out to her and remained in her ambush, as if under an invisible cap, looking out for what was happening in the world. She experienced a special new pleasure. Sonya whispered something and looked back at the drawing-room door. Nicholas came out of the door.
– Sonya! What happened to you? Is it possible? Nikolay said, running up to her.
“Nothing, nothing, leave me!” Sonya sobbed.
- No, I know what.
- Well, you know, and fine, and go to her.
- Sooonya! One word! Is it possible to torment me and yourself like that because of fantasy? Nikolai said, taking her by the hand.
Sonya did not tear her hand away from him and stopped crying.
Natasha, without moving or breathing, looked from her ambush with shining heads. "What will happen now"? she thought.
– Sonya! I don't need the whole world! You alone are everything to me,” Nikolai said. - I'll prove it to you.
“I don't like it when you talk like that.
- Well, I won’t, sorry, Sonya! He pulled her towards him and kissed her.
"Oh, how good!" Natasha thought, and when Sonya and Nikolai left the room, she followed them and called Boris to her.
“Boris, come here,” she said with a significant and sly air. “I need to tell you one thing. Here, here,” she said, and led him into the flower shop to the place between the tubs where she had been hidden. Boris, smiling, followed her.
What is this one thing? - he asked.
She was embarrassed, looked around her and, seeing her doll thrown on a tub, took it in her hands.
“Kiss the doll,” she said.
Boris looked into her lively face with an attentive, affectionate look and did not answer.
- You do not want? Well, then come here, - she said and went deeper into the flowers and threw the doll. - Closer, closer! she whispered. She caught the officer by the cuffs with her hands, and solemnity and fear were visible in her reddened face.
- Do you want to kiss me? she whispered in a barely audible voice, looking at him from under her brows, smiling and almost crying with excitement.
Boris blushed.
- How funny you are! he said, leaning towards her, blushing even more, but doing nothing and waiting.
She suddenly jumped up on the tub, so that she stood taller than him, hugged him with both arms, so that her thin bare arms bent above his neck, and throwing her hair back with a movement of her head, kissed him on the very lips.
She slipped between the pots to the other side of the flowers and, head down, stopped.
“Natasha,” he said, “you know that I love you, but ...
- Are you in love with me? Natasha interrupted him.
- Yes, I am in love, but please, let's not do what is now ... Four more years ... Then I will ask for your hand.
Natasha thought.
“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…” she said, counting on her thin fingers. - Fine! Is it over?
And a smile of joy and reassurance lit up her lively face.
- It's over! Boris said.
- Forever? – said the girl. - Until death?
And, taking him by the arm, she quietly walked beside him into the sofa with a happy face.

The countess was so tired of visiting that she did not order to receive anyone else, and the porter was only ordered to call everyone who would still come with congratulations to eat without fail. The Countess wanted to talk face to face with her childhood friend, Princess Anna Mikhailovna, whom she had not seen well since her arrival from Petersburg. Anna Mikhailovna, with her tearful and pleasant face, moved closer to the countess's chair.
"I'll be completely frank with you," said Anna Mikhailovna. “There aren’t many of us left, old friends!” That's why I treasure your friendship.
Anna Mikhailovna looked at Vera and stopped. The countess shook hands with her friend.
“Vera,” said the countess, turning to her eldest daughter, who was obviously unloved. How do you have no idea? Don't you feel like you're out of place here? Go to your sisters, or...
Beautiful Vera smiled contemptuously, apparently not feeling the slightest insult.
“If you had told me long ago, mother, I would have left at once,” she said, and went to her room.
But, passing by the sofa, she noticed that two couples were sitting symmetrically in it at two windows. She stopped and smiled contemptuously. Sonya was sitting close beside Nikolai, who was copying for her the poems he had composed for the first time. Boris and Natasha were sitting at the other window and fell silent when Vera entered. Sonya and Natasha looked at Vera with guilty and happy faces.
It was fun and touching to look at these girls in love, but the sight of them, obviously, did not arouse a pleasant feeling in Vera.
“How many times have I asked you,” she said, “not to take my things, you have your own room.
She took the inkwell from Nikolai.
“Now, now,” he said, wetting his pen.
“You know how to do everything at the wrong time,” Vera said. - Then they ran into the living room, so that everyone felt ashamed for you.
In spite of the fact, or precisely because what she said was perfectly true, no one answered her, and all four only looked at each other. She hesitated in the room with an inkwell in her hand.
- And what secrets can there be between Natasha and Boris and between you at your age - all just nonsense!
“Well, what do you care, Vera? - Natasha spoke intercessively in a quiet voice.
She, apparently, was to everyone even more than always, on this day kind and affectionate.
“It’s very stupid,” Vera said, “I’m ashamed of you. What are the secrets?...
- Everyone has their own secrets. We don’t touch you and Berg,” Natasha said, getting excited.
“I think you don’t touch it,” Vera said, “because there can never be anything bad in my actions. But I'll tell my mother how you get along with Boris.
“Natalia Ilyinishna treats me very well,” said Boris. “I can't complain,” he said.
- Leave it, Boris, you are such a diplomat (the word diplomat was in great use among children in the special meaning that they attached to this word); even boring,” said Natasha in an offended, trembling voice. Why is she coming to me? You will never understand this,” she said, turning to Vera, “because you have never loved anyone; you have no heart, you are only madame de Genlis [Madame Genlis] (this nickname, considered very offensive, was given to Vera by Nikolai), and your first pleasure is to make trouble for others. You flirt with Berg as much as you like,” she said quickly.
- Yes, I’m sure I won’t run after a young man in front of the guests ...
“Well, she got her way,” Nikolai intervened, “she told everyone troubles, upset everyone. Let's go to the nursery.
All four, like a flock of frightened birds, got up and left the room.
“They told me trouble, but I didn’t give anything to anyone,” Vera said.
— Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis! laughing voices said from behind the door.
The beautiful Vera, who produced such an irritating, unpleasant effect on everyone, smiled and, apparently not affected by what she was told, went to the mirror and straightened her scarf and her hair. Looking at her beautiful face, she seemed to become even colder and calmer.

The conversation continued in the living room.
- Ah! chere, - said the countess, - and in my life tout n "est pas rose. Can't I see that du train, que nous allons, [not all roses. - with our way of life,] our state will not last long! And it's all a club, and its kindness. We live in the country, do we rest? Theatres, hunts, and God knows what. But what can I say about me! Well, how did you arrange all this? I often wonder at you, Annette, how it is you, at your age, ride alone in a wagon, to Moscow, to Petersburg, to all the ministers, to all the nobility, you know how to get along with everyone, I'm surprised!
- Ah, my soul! - answered Princess Anna Mikhailovna. “God forbid you find out how hard it is to be a widow without support and with a son whom you love to adoration. You will learn everything,” she continued with a certain pride. “My process taught me. If I need to see one of these aces, I write a note: “princesse une telle [princess such and such] wants to see such and such” and I go myself in a cab at least two, at least three times, at least four, until I achieve what I need. I don't care what they think of me.
- Well, what about, whom did you ask about Borenka? the countess asked. - After all, here is your officer of the guard, and Nikolushka is a cadet. Someone to bother. Whom did you ask?
- Prince Vasily. He was very nice. Now I have agreed to everything, I have reported to the sovereign,” Princess Anna Mikhailovna said with delight, completely forgetting all the humiliation through which she went through to achieve her goal.
- Why is he getting old, Prince Vasily? the countess asked. - I didn’t see him from our theaters at the Rumyantsevs. And I think he forgot about me. Il me faisait la cour, [He dragged after me,] - the countess remembered with a smile.
- Still the same, - answered Anna Mikhailovna, - amiable, crumbling. Les grandeurs ne lui ont pas touriene la tete du tout. [The high position did not turn his head at all.] “I regret that I can do too little for you, dear princess,” he tells me, “order.” No, he is a nice person and a wonderful native. But you know, Nathalieie, my love for my son. I don't know what I wouldn't do to make him happy. And my circumstances are so bad,” Anna Mikhaylovna continued sadly and lowering her voice, “so bad that I am now in the most terrible position. My unfortunate process eats up everything I have and does not move. I don't have, you can imagine, a la lettre [literally] no dime of money, and I don't know what to equip Boris with. She took out her handkerchief and wept. - I need five hundred rubles, and I have one twenty-five-ruble note. I am in such a position ... One of my hopes is now on Count Kirill Vladimirovich Bezukhov. If he does not want to support his godson - after all, he baptized Borya - and assign him something to support, then all my troubles will be lost: I will have nothing to equip him with.
The Countess shed a tear and silently pondered something.
“I often think, maybe it’s a sin,” said the princess, “but I often think: Count Kirill Vladimirovich Bezukhoy lives alone ... this is a huge fortune ... and what does he live for? Life is a burden for him, and Borya is just starting to live.
“He will probably leave something for Boris,” said the countess.
“God knows, chere amie!” [dear friend!] These rich people and nobles are so selfish. But all the same, I’ll go to him now with Boris and tell him straight out what’s the matter. Let them think what they want about me, it really doesn't matter to me when the fate of my son depends on it. The princess got up. “Now it’s two o’clock, and at four o’clock you have dinner.” I can go.
And with the manners of a Petersburg business lady who knows how to use time, Anna Mikhailovna sent for her son and went out with him into the hall.
“Farewell, my soul,” she said to the countess, who accompanied her to the door, “wish me success,” she added in a whisper from her son.
- Are you visiting Count Kirill Vladimirovich, ma chere? said the count from the dining-room, also going out into the hall. - If he is better, call Pierre to dine with me. After all, he visited me, danced with the children. Call by all means, ma chere. Well, let's see how Taras excels today. He says that Count Orlov never had such a dinner as we will have.

- Mon cher Boris, [Dear Boris,] - said Princess Anna Mikhailovna to her son, when the carriage of Countess Rostova, in which they were sitting, drove along a straw-covered street and drove into the wide courtyard of Count Kirill Vladimirovich Bezukhoy. “Mon cher Boris,” said the mother, pulling her hand out from under the old coat and placing it on her son’s hand with a timid and gentle movement, “be kind, be attentive. Count Kirill Vladimirovich is still your godfather, and your future fate depends on him. Remember this, mon cher, be nice, as you know how to be ...
“If I knew that anything but humiliation would come out of this ...” the son answered coldly. “But I promised you and I do it for you.
Despite the fact that someone's carriage was standing at the entrance, the porter, looking at the mother and son (who, without ordering to report about themselves, went straight into the glass passage between two rows of statues in niches), glancing significantly at the old coat, asked whom they whatever, princes or count, and, having learned that it was a count, he said that their excellency is now worse and their excellency does not receive anyone.
“We can leave,” the son said in French.
– Mon ami! [My friend!] - said the mother in an imploring voice, again touching her son's hand, as if this touch could calm or excite him.
Boris fell silent and, without taking off his overcoat, looked inquiringly at his mother.
“My dear,” Anna Mikhailovna said in a gentle voice, turning to the porter, “I know that Count Kirill Vladimirovich is very ill ... that’s why I came ... I’m a relative ... I won’t bother, my dear ... But I just need to see Prince Vasily Sergeyevich: because he is standing here. Report it, please.
The porter sullenly pulled the string up and turned away.
“Princess Drubetskaya to Prince Vasily Sergeevich,” he shouted to a waiter in stockings, shoes and a tailcoat who had run down and peered out from under the ledge of the stairs.
Mother smoothed out the folds of her dyed silk dress, looked into the one-piece Venetian mirror in the wall, and cheerfully in her worn-out shoes went up the carpet of the stairs.
- Mon cher, voue m "avez promis, [My friend, you promised me,]" she turned again to the Son, arousing him with the touch of her hand.
The son, lowering his eyes, calmly followed her.
They entered the hall, from which one door led to the chambers allotted to Prince Vasily.
While the mother and son, going out into the middle of the room, intended to ask for directions from the old waiter who jumped up at their entrance, a bronze handle turned at one of the doors and Prince Vasily in a velvet coat, with one star, at home, went out, seeing off the handsome black-haired man. This man was the famous St. Petersburg doctor Lorrain.
- C "est donc positif? [So, is that right?] - said the prince.
- Mon prince, "errare humanum est", mais ... [Prince, it is human nature to err.] - the doctor answered, grasping and pronouncing the Latin words in a French accent.
- C "est bien, c" est bien ... [Good, good ...]
Noticing Anna Mikhailovna with her son, Prince Vasily dismissed the doctor with a bow and silently, but with an inquiring look, approached them. The son noticed how suddenly deep sorrow was expressed in the eyes of his mother, and he smiled slightly.
- Yes, in what sad circumstances we had to see each other, prince ... Well, what about our dear patient? she said, as if not noticing the cold, insulting look fixed on her.
Prince Vasily looked inquiringly, to the point of bewilderment, at her, then at Boris. Boris bowed politely. Prince Vasily, not answering the bow, turned to Anna Mikhailovna and answered her question with a movement of his head and lips, which meant the worst hope for the patient.
– Really? exclaimed Anna Mikhailovna. - Oh, it's terrible! It’s terrible to think… This is my son,” she added, pointing to Boris. “He wanted to thank you himself.
Boris bowed again politely.
“Believe, prince, that a mother’s heart will never forget what you have done for us.
“I am glad that I could please you, my dear Anna Mikhailovna,” said Prince Vasily, straightening the jabot and showing in gesture and voice here in Moscow, in front of the patronized Anna Mikhailovna, even much greater importance than in St. Petersburg, at the evening at Annette Scherer.
“Try to serve well and be worthy,” he added, addressing Boris sternly. - I'm glad ... Are you here on vacation? he dictated in his impassive tone.
“I’m waiting for an order, Your Excellency, to go to a new destination,” Boris answered, showing neither annoyance at the prince’s sharp tone, nor a desire to enter into a conversation, but so calmly and respectfully that the prince looked intently at him.
- Do you live with your mother?
“I live with Countess Rostova,” Boris said, adding again: “Your Excellency.”
“This is the Ilya Rostov who married Nathalie Shinshina,” said Anna Mikhailovna.
“I know, I know,” said Prince Vasily in his monotonous voice. - Je n "ai jamais pu concevoir, comment Nathalieie s" est decidee a epouser cet ours mal - leche l Un personnage completement stupide et ridicule. Et joueur a ce qu "on dit. [I could never understand how Natalie decided to go out marry that filthy bear. Completely stupid and funny person. Besides a gambler, they say.]
- Mais tres brave homme, mon prince, [But a good man, prince,] - Anna Mikhailovna remarked, smiling touchingly, as if she knew that Count Rostov deserved such an opinion, but asked to pity the poor old man. - What do the doctors say? asked the princess, after a pause, and again expressing great sadness on her tear-stained face.
“There is little hope,” said the prince.
- And I so wanted to thank my uncle again for all his good deeds to me and Borya. C "est son filleuil, [This is his godson,] - she added in such a tone, as if this news should have extremely pleased Prince Vasily.
Prince Vasily thought for a moment and grimaced. Anna Mikhailovna realized that he was afraid to find in her a rival according to the will of Count Bezukhoy. She hastened to reassure him.
“If it weren’t for my true love and devotion to my uncle,” she said, pronouncing this word with particular confidence and carelessness: “I know his character, noble, direct, but only the princesses are with him ... They are still young ...” She tilted her head and she added in a whisper: “Did he fulfill his last duty, prince?” How precious are these last moments! After all, it couldn't be worse; it must be cooked if it is so bad. We women, prince,” she smiled tenderly, “always know how to say these things. You need to see him. No matter how hard it was for me, but I'm used to suffering.
The prince, apparently, understood, and understood, as he did at the evening at Annette Scherer's, that it was difficult to get rid of Anna Mikhailovna.
“This meeting wouldn’t be hard for him, chere Anna Mikhailovna,” he said. - Let's wait until the evening, the doctors promised a crisis.
“But you can’t wait, prince, at this moment. Pensez, il u va du salut de son ame… Ah! c "est terrible, les devoirs d" un chretien ... [Think, it's about saving his soul! Oh! this is terrible, the duty of a Christian…]
A door opened from the inner rooms, and one of the princesses, the count's nieces, entered, with a gloomy and cold face and a long waist strikingly disproportionate to her legs.
Prince Vasily turned to her.
- Well, what is he?
- All the same. And as you wish, this noise ... - said the princess, looking at Anna Mikhailovna, as if she were a stranger.
“Ah, chere, je ne vous reconnaissais pas, [Ah, my dear, I didn’t recognize you,” Anna Mikhailovna said with a happy smile, approaching the count’s niece with a light amble. - Je viens d "arriver et je suis a vous pour vous aider a soigner mon oncle. J`imagine, combien vous avez souffert, [I came to help you follow your uncle. I imagine how much you suffered,] - she added, with participation rolling his eyes.
The princess made no answer, did not even smile, and went out at once. Anna Mikhailovna took off her gloves and, in a conquered position, settled down on an armchair, inviting Prince Vasily to sit down beside her.
- Boris! - she said to her son and smiled, - I'll go to the count, to my uncle, and you go to Pierre, mon ami, for the time being, don't forget to give him an invitation from the Rostovs. They invite him to dinner. I don't think he will? she turned to the prince.
“On the contrary,” said the prince, apparently out of sorts. – Je serais tres content si vous me debarrassez de ce jeune homme… [I would be very happy if you would get rid of this young man…] Sitting here. The Count never once asked about him.
He shrugged. The waiter led the young man up and down another staircase to Pyotr Kirillovich.

Pierre did not manage to choose a career for himself in St. Petersburg and, indeed, was exiled to Moscow for riot. The story told at Count Rostov's was true. Pierre participated in tying the quarter with a bear. He arrived a few days ago and stayed, as always, at his father's house. Although he assumed that his story was already known in Moscow, and that the ladies surrounding his father, who were always unfriendly to him, would take advantage of this opportunity to annoy the count, he nevertheless went to half his father on the day of his arrival. Entering the drawing room, the usual residence of the princesses, he greeted the ladies who were sitting at the embroidery frame and at the book, which one of them was reading aloud. There were three. The eldest, clean, long-waisted, strict girl, the same one who went out to Anna Mikhailovna, was reading; the younger ones, both ruddy and pretty, differing from each other only in that one had a mole above her lip, which made her very pretty, sewed in a hoop. Pierre was greeted as dead or plagued. The eldest princess interrupted her reading and silently looked at him with frightened eyes; the youngest, without a mole, assumed exactly the same expression; the smallest, with a mole, of a merry and humorous disposition, stooped down to the embroidery frame to hide a smile, caused, probably, by the upcoming scene, the amusingness of which she foresaw. She pulled down the hair and bent down, as if sorting out the patterns and barely holding back her laughter.
“Bonjour, ma cousine,” said Pierre. - Vous ne me hesonnaissez pas? [Hello cousin. You don't recognize me?]
“I know you too well, too well.
How is the Count's health? May I see him? Pierre asked awkwardly, as always, but not embarrassed.
“The Count suffers both physically and morally, and it seems that you took care to inflict more moral suffering on him.
May I see the count? Pierre repeated.
“Hm!.. If you want to kill him, kill him completely, you can see. Olga, go and see if the broth is ready for the uncle, the time will soon be, ”she added, showing Pierre that they are busy and busy reassuring his father, while he is obviously busy only upsetting.
Olga left. Pierre stood for a moment, looked at the sisters, and, bowing, said:
- So I'll go to my place. When you can, tell me.
He went out, and the sonorous but quiet laughter of the sister with the mole was heard behind him.
The next day, Prince Vasily arrived and settled in the count's house. He called Pierre to him and said to him:
- Mon cher, si vous vous conduisez ici, comme a Petersbourg, vous finirez tres mal; c "est tout ce que je vous dis. [My dear, if you behave here as in Petersburg, you will end up very badly; I have nothing more to tell you.] The count is very, very sick: you don’t need to see him at all.
Since then, Pierre has not been disturbed, and he spent the whole day alone upstairs in his room.
While Boris entered him, Pierre paced his room, occasionally stopping in the corners, making threatening gestures to the wall, as if piercing an invisible enemy with a sword, and sternly looking over his glasses and then starting his walk again, pronouncing obscure words, shaking shoulders and arms outstretched.
- L "Angleterre a vecu, [End of England]," he said, frowning and pointing his finger at someone. - M. Pitt comme traitre a la nation et au droit des gens est condamiene a ... [Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and the people right, is sentenced to ...] - He did not have time to finish Pitt's sentence, imagining himself at that moment Napoleon himself and, together with his hero, having already made a dangerous crossing through the Pas de Calais and having conquered London, - as he saw a young, slender and handsome officer entering him He stopped. Pierre left Boris a fourteen-year-old boy and decidedly did not remember him, but, in spite of this, with his usual quick and cordial manner, he took him by the hand and smiled amiably.
- Do you remember me? Boris said calmly, with a pleasant smile. - I came with my mother to the count, but it seems that he is not completely healthy.
Yes, it looks unhealthy. Everything disturbs him, - Pierre answered, trying to remember who this young man was.
Boris felt that Pierre did not recognize him, but did not consider it necessary to identify himself and, without experiencing the slightest embarrassment, looked into his eyes.
“Count Rostov asked you to come and dine with him today,” he said after a rather long and awkward silence for Pierre.
- A! Count Rostov! Pierre spoke happily. “So you are his son, Ilya. You can imagine, I didn't recognize you at first. Remember how we went to Sparrow Hills with m me Jacquot ... [Madame Jaco ...] a long time ago.
“You are mistaken,” Boris said slowly, with a bold and somewhat mocking smile. - I am Boris, the son of Princess Anna Mikhailovna Drubetskaya. Rostov's father's name is Ilya, and his son's name is Nikolai. And I m me Jacquot didn't know any.
Pierre waved his arms and head as if mosquitoes or bees had attacked him.

Johann Georg Faust(German Johann Georg Faust; c. 1480, Knitlingen, Germany - 1540, Staufen im Breisgau, Germany) - doctor, warlock, who lived in the first half of the 16th century in Germany.

The legendary biography of Faust developed already in the era of the Reformation and over the following centuries became the subject of numerous works of European literature, the most famous of which is the tragedy of Goethe.

Biography

Almost all the details about the life of the historical Faust come from the writings of the end of the 16th century and later; it is impossible to single out the real facts in them among the heaps of fictions.

Most historians agree that Johann Georg Faust was born, apparently, around 1481 in the city of Knitlingen, in 1508, through Franz von Sickingen, he received a teacher's job in Kreuznach, but was forced to flee from there because of the persecution of his fellow citizens. As a warlock and astrologer, he traveled around Europe, posing as a great scientist, boasted that he could perform all the miracles of Jesus Christ or “recreate from the depths of his subconscious all the works of Plato and Aristotle, if they ever died for mankind” ( from a letter of the learned abbot Trithemius, 1507). In 1532, the authorities of Nuremberg forbade the entry into the city of "the great sodomite and necromancer Doctor Faustus" (Doctor Faustus, dem groen Sodomiten und Nigromantico in furt glait ablainen). After 1539, his trace is lost.

In the German city of Wittenberg on Kollegienstrasse there is a memorial plaque according to which Faust lived in the years 1480-1540, of which in Wittenberg from 1525 to 1532. In Prague, tourists are shown the house of Faust, where he allegedly left his signature.

The image of Faust in literature

The origins of the image

Similar to the legend of Faust is the early Christian Tale of Eladiy, who sold his soul to the devil. The Tale of Savva Grudtsyn (XVII century) with a similar plot goes back to the same Greek source.

Perhaps the apocryphal legends about Simon Magus, who tried to compete with the Apostle Peter in magic, had an influence on the folding of the image of Faust. The prototypes of Faust in literature were called Pope Sylvester II, the Franciscan Roger Bacon, the abbot Johann Trithemius, the author of the essay "Steganography" (1499), as well as the famed warlock Henry Cornelius Agrippa.

"People's book"

In the Renaissance, when there was still a widespread belief in magic and the miraculous, which many were portrayed as the fruit of the union of a daring mind with evil spirits, the figure of Dr. Faust quickly gained legendary outlines and wide popularity. In 1587 in Germany, in the edition of Spies, the first literary adaptation of the legend of Faust appeared, the so-called "folk book" about Faust: "Historia von Dr. Johann Fausten, dem weitbeschreiten Zauberer und Schwartzknstler etc.” (“The story of Dr. Faust, the famous wizard and warlock, etc.”). The book includes episodes that were previously associated with various sorcerers (Simon Magus, Albert the Great, etc.) and which in this book are attributed to Faust. In addition to oral legends, its source was contemporary writings on witchcraft and “secret” knowledge (books by the theologian Lerheimer, a student of Melanchthon: “Ein Christlich Bedencken und Erinnerung von Zauberey”, 1585; a book by I. Vir, a student of Agrippa Nettesheim: “De praestigiis daemonum", 1563, German translation 1567, etc.). The author, apparently a Lutheran cleric, portrays Faust as a daring impious man who allied with the devil in order to acquire great knowledge and power ("Faust grew eagle wings for himself and wanted to penetrate and study all the foundations of heaven and earth." other than arrogance, despair, audacity and courage, similar to those titans that poets tell about, that they piled mountains on mountains and wanted to fight against God, or similar to an evil angel who opposed himself to God, for which he was overthrown by God as arrogant and arrogant"). The final chapter of the book tells of Faust's "terrible and terrifying end": he is torn apart by demons, and his soul goes to hell. It is characteristic at the same time that Faust is given the features of a humanist. These features are markedly enhanced in the 1589 edition.

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Imaginary portrait of Doctor Faust (17th century)
Johann Georg Faust

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The legendary biography of Faust was already formed in the era of the Reformation and over the following centuries became the subject of numerous works of European literature, the most famous of which is Goethe's tragedy.

Biography

Most historians agree that Johann Georg Faust was apparently born around 1481 in the city of Knitlingen, in 1508, through Franz von Sickingen, he received a teaching position in Kreuznach, but was forced to flee from there due to the persecution of his fellow citizens. As a warlock and astrologer, he traveled around Europe, posing as a great scientist, boasted that he could perform all the miracles of Jesus Christ or “recreate from the depths of his subconscious all the works of Plato and Aristotle, if they ever died for mankind” ( from a letter of the learned abbot Trithemius, 1507). In 1532, the authorities of Nuremberg forbade the entry into the city of "the great sodomite and necromancer Doctor Faust" ( Doctor Faustus, dem großen Sodomiten und Nigromantico in furt glait ablainen) . After 1539, his trace is lost.

"People's book"

Faust by Goethe

In the era of romanticism

In Russia

In Russia, A. S. Pushkin paid tribute to the legend of Faust in his wonderful Scene from Faust. With echoes of Goethe's "Faust" we meet in "Don Giovanni" by A. K. Tolstoy (the prologue, the Faustian features of Don Giovanni, languishing over the solution of life - direct reminiscences from Goethe) and in the story in the letters "Faust" by J.S. Turgenev.

List of works

Historia von Dr. Johann Fausten, dem weitbeschreiten Zauberer und Schwartzkünstler etc. (The story of Dr. Faust, the famous wizard and warlock), (1587)
G. R. Widman, Wahrhaftige Historie etc., (1598)
Achim von Arnim. "Die Kronenwächter" (Guardians of the Crown), (1817)
Friedrich Maximilian Klinger: Faust, his life, deeds and overthrow into hell (Fausts Leben, Thaten und Höllenfahrt)(1791) Theodor Storm: Ernst
August Klingemann (Ernst August Klingemann): Faust (1816) Field-Puppeteer (Pole Poppenspäler), short story (1875)
Heinrich Mann: Teacher Gnus (Professor Unrat), (1904)
Thomas Mann : Doctor Faustus (Doctor Faustus) (1947)
Roger Zelazny, Robert Sheckley: "If at Faust you don't succeed" (Roger Zelazny & Robert Sheckley: "If at Faust you don't succeed") (1993)
Michael Swanwick: Jack Faust (Jack Faust) (1997)
Roman Mohlmann: Faust und die Tragodie der Menschheit (2007)
Adolfo Bioy Casares, Faust's Eve (1949)
Johann Spies: "The legend of Dr. Johann Faust, the great and illustrious sorcerer, magician and deceiver."
Christopher Marlo: The Tragic History of Doctor Faustus, (1590)
John Rich: The Necromancer (1723)
Goethe:
- Prafaust (Urfaust)
- Faust, ch. 1 (Faust I)
- Faust, part 2 (Faust II)
Friedrich Müller: Faust's Leben (Faust), (1778)
Christian Dietrich Grabbe: Don Juan and Faust (1828)
A. S. Pushkin. Scene from "Faust"
Nikolaus Lenau: Faust (1836)
Heinrich Heine: Faust (Der Doktor Faust. Ein Tanzpoem), a poem assigned for dancing (ballet libretto) (1851)
I. S. Turgenev. Faust, (1856)
Friedrich Theodor Fischer: Faust. Tragedy in two parts (Faust. Der Tragödie dritter Teil) (1862)
A. V. Lunacharsky: , 1908
Michel de Gelderode. Death of Doctor Faust, 1926
Yuri Yurchenko. Faust and Elena, tragedy in verse in three acts, magazine Playwright No. 4, 1994; publishing house ACADEMIA, M., 1999.
Dorothy Sayers: (The Devil to Pay) (1939)
wolfgang bauer: Herr Faust spielt Roulette (Herr Faust plays roulette) (1986)
Günther Mahal (Hrsg.): Doktor Johannes Faust - Puppenspiel (Dr. Johannes Faust - Puppet Theatre).
Werner Schwab: Faust: Mein Brustkorb: Mein Helm. (1992)
Pohl, Gerd-Josef: Faust - Geschichte einer Höllenfahrt, 1995

The image of Faust in other arts

In fine arts

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Notes

Bibliography

Faligan Z., Histoire de la légende de Faust, P., 1888;
Fischer K., Goethes Faust, Bd I. Die Faustdichtung vor Goethe, 3. Aufl., Stuttgart, 1893;
Kiesewetter C., Faust in der Geschichte und Tradition, Lpz., 1893;
Frank R., Wie der Faust entstand (Urkunde, Sage und Dichtung), B., 1911;
Die Faustdichtung vor, neben und nach Goethe, 4 Bde, B., 1913;
Gestaltungen des Faust (Die bedeutendsten Werke der Faustdichtung, seit 1587), hrsg. v. H. W. Geissler, 3 Bde, Munich, 1927;
Bauerhorst K., Bibliographie der Stoff- und Motiv-Geschichte der deutschen Literatur, B. - Lpz., 1932;
Korelin M., Western legend about Dr. Faust, Vestnik Evropy, 1882, book. 11 and 12;
Frishmut M., Faust type in world literature, Vestnik Evropy, 1887, book. 7-10 (reprinted in the book: Frishmut M., Critical essays and articles, St. Petersburg, 1902);
Beletsky AI, The legend of Faust in connection with the history of demonology, "Notes of the Neophilological Society at St. Petersburg University", vol. V and VI, 1911-1912;
Zhirmunsky V., Goethe in Russian Literature, Leningrad, 1937.
Rigby L. Faust / Per. from English. D. Kuntashova. - M.: Veche, 2012. - 416 p., ill. - (Great historical figures). - 2000 copies, ISBN 978-5-9533-5154-6
Black Book of Johann Faust. Volume I. Natural and unnatural magic / N. Novgorod, 2015. - ISBN 978-5-99069-24-4-2
Black Book of Johann Faust. Volume II. Grimoires of the Great Warlock / N. Novgorod, 2015. - ISBN 978-5-9907322-0-9

Excerpt characterizing Faust, Johann Georg

- Well, well ... Breaking - not building, would have done something useful, - my grandmother said calmly.
I choked with indignation! Well, please tell me, how can she treat this "incredible event" so coolly?! After all, this is ... SUCH !!! I couldn’t even explain what it was, but I certainly knew that it was impossible to treat what was happening so calmly. Unfortunately, my indignation did not make the slightest impression on my grandmother, and she again calmly said:
Don't waste so much energy on something you can do with your hands. Better go read it.
My indignation knew no bounds! I couldn’t understand why something that seemed so amazing to me didn’t cause her any delight?! Unfortunately, at that time I was still too small a child to understand that all these impressive “external effects” really do not give anything but the same “external effects” ... And the essence of all this is just intoxication with the “mysticism of the inexplicable” gullible and impressionable people, which my grandmother, of course, was not ... But since I had not yet matured to such an understanding, at that moment I was only incredibly interested in what else I could move. Therefore, without regret, I left my grandmother who “did not understand” me and moved on in search of a new object of my “experiments” ...
At that time, my father's favorite lived with us, a beautiful gray cat - Grishka. I found him sleeping sweetly on a warm stove and decided that this was just a very good moment to try my new “art” on him. I thought it would be better if he sat at the window. Nothing happened. Then I concentrated and thought harder... Poor Grishka flew off the stove with a wild cry and crashed his head against the window sill... I felt so sorry for him and so ashamed that I, all around guilty, rushed to pick him up. But for some reason, the unfortunate cat's fur suddenly stood on end and, meowing loudly, rushed away from me, as if scalded by boiling water.
For me it was a shock. I did not understand what happened and why Grishka suddenly disliked me, although before that we were very good friends. I chased him almost the whole day, but, unfortunately, I could not beg forgiveness for myself ... His strange behavior lasted four days, and then our adventure, most likely, was forgotten and everything was fine again. But it made me think, because I realized that, without wanting it myself, with the same unusual “abilities” I can sometimes harm someone.
After this incident, I became much more serious about everything that unexpectedly manifested in me and “experimented” much more carefully. All the following days, of course, I just fell ill with a “movement” mania. I mentally tried to move everything that caught my eye ... and in some cases, again, I got very deplorable results ...
So, for example, I watched in horror as the shelves of neatly folded, very expensive, daddy's books "organized" fell to the floor and with shaking hands I tried to put everything back in place as quickly as possible, since books were a "sacred" object in our house and before you take them - you had to earn them. But, to my happiness, dad was not at home at that moment and, as they say, this time it “swept through” ...
Another very funny and at the same time sad incident happened to my father's aquarium. My father, as far as I can remember, was always very fond of fish and dreamed of one day building a large aquarium at home (which he later did). But at that moment, for lack of a better place, we just had a small round aquarium that could only hold a few colorful fish. And since even such a small “living corner” brought spiritual joy to dad, everyone in the house looked after him with pleasure, including me.
And so, on one “ill-fated” day, when I was just passing by, all busy with my “moving” thoughts, I accidentally looked at the fish and regretted that they, poor things, had so little space to live freely ... The aquarium suddenly trembled and, To my great dismay, it burst, spilling water around the room. The poor fish did not have time to come to their senses, as they were, with great appetite, eaten by our beloved cat, who suddenly, right from the sky, received such an unexpected pleasure ... I felt really sad, because in no way did I want to upset dad , and even more so, to interrupt someone's, even a very small, life.
That evening I was waiting for my dad in a completely broken state - it was very insulting and ashamed to make such a stupid mistake. And although I knew that no one would punish me for this, for some reason it was very bad in my soul and, as they say, “cats scratched” very loudly in it. I realized more and more that some of my "talents" in certain circumstances can be very, very unsafe. But, unfortunately, I did not know how to manage it, and therefore I became more and more worried about the unpredictability of some of my actions and their possible consequences with completely undesirable results ...
But I was still just a curious nine-year-old girl and could not long worry about the tragically dead, though completely my fault, fish. I still diligently tried to move everything that came across to me and rejoiced inexpressibly at any unusual manifestation in my "research" practice. So, one fine morning during breakfast, my milk cup suddenly hung in the air right in front of me and continued to hang, and I had no idea how to lower it ... Grandmother at that moment was in the kitchen and I frantically tried to something to “figure out” so that you don’t have to blush again and explain yourself, expecting to hear complete disapproval on her part. But the unfortunate cup stubbornly did not want to go back. On the contrary, she suddenly moved smoothly and, as if teasingly, began to describe wide circles over the table ... And the funny thing is that I couldn’t grab her.
Grandma returned to the room and literally froze on the threshold with her cup in her hand. Of course, I immediately rushed to explain that “she just flies like that ... and, is it really very beautiful?” ... In short, I tried to find any way out, just not to seem helpless. And then I suddenly felt very ashamed ... I saw that my grandmother knew that I simply could not find the answer to the problem that had arisen and was trying to “disguise” my ignorance with some unnecessary beautiful words. Then, indignant at myself, I gathered my “beaten” pride into a fist and quickly blurted out:
“Well, I don’t know why she flies!” And I don't know how to put it down!
Grandmother looked at me seriously and suddenly said very cheerfully:
- So try it! That is why your mind is given to you.
It's like a mountain has been lifted off my shoulders! I really disliked appearing incompetent, and especially when it came to my "strange" abilities. And so I tried ... From morning to evening. Until I fell off my feet and it didn’t start to seem that I didn’t understand at all what I was doing. Some wise man said that three paths lead to the higher mind: the path of reflection is the most noble, the path of imitation is the easiest, and the path of experience on one's own neck is the hardest. So, for some reason, I always chose the most difficult path, since my poor neck really suffered greatly from my never-ending, endless experiments ...
But sometimes “the game was worth the candle” and my hard work was crowned with success, as it finally happened with the same “movement” ... After some time, any desired objects moved, flew, fell and rose when I I wanted it and it didn’t seem difficult to manage it at all ... except for one very disappointing missed opportunity, which, to my great regret, happened at school, which I always honestly tried to avoid. I absolutely did not need extra talk about my "oddities" and especially among my schoolmates!
The reason for that insulting incident, apparently, was my too much relaxation, which (knowing about my “motor” abilities) was completely unforgivable to allow in such a situation. But we all once make big or small mistakes, and as they say, we learn from them. Although, to be honest, I'd rather learn from something else...
My class teacher at that time was the teacher Gibiene, a gentle and kind woman whom all schoolchildren sincerely adored. And her son, Remy, studied in our class, who, unfortunately, was a very spoiled and unpleasant boy, who always despised everyone, mocked girls and constantly taunted his mother's entire class. I was always surprised that, being such an open, intelligent and pleasant person, his mother point-blank did not want to see the real face of her beloved "child" ... It's probably true that love can sometimes be truly blind. And in this case, she was genuinely blind ...
On that ill-fated day, Remy came to school already pretty excited about something and immediately began to look for a “scapegoat” to pour out all his anger that had accumulated from somewhere. And of course, I was “lucky” to be at that moment exactly within his reach, and since we didn’t really love each other initially, on that day I turned out to be exactly that ardently desired “buffer” on which he was eager to take out their dissatisfaction is unknown.
I do not want to sound biased, but what happened in the next few minutes was not later criticized by any of my, even the most timid, classmate. And even those who didn’t really love me were very pleased in their hearts that at last there was someone who was not afraid of the “thunderstorm” of an indignant mother and gave a good lesson to the arrogant minion. True, the lesson turned out to be quite cruel, and if I had the choice to repeat it again, I probably would never have done this to him. But, no matter how ashamed and sorry I am, I must pay tribute to the fact that this lesson worked just surprisingly well and the failed "usurper" never again expressed any desire to terrorize his class ...
Having chosen, as he supposed, his "victim", Remy went straight to me and I realized that, to my great regret, the conflict could not be avoided. He, as usual, began to "get me" and then suddenly I just broke through ... Maybe it happened because I had been subconsciously waiting for this for a long time? Or maybe just tired of enduring all the time, leaving unanswered, someone's impudent behavior? One way or another, in the next second, having received a strong blow to the chest, he flew off from his desk straight to the board and, flying in the air for about three meters, screeching bag plopped down on the floor ...
I never found out how I got that punch. The fact is that I didn’t touch Remy at all - it was a purely energy blow, but I still can’t explain how I delivered it. An indescribable mess arose in the classroom - someone squealed in fright ... someone shouted that an ambulance should be called ... and someone ran after the teacher, because whatever he was, but it was precisely her "crippled" son . And I, completely stunned by what I had done, stood in a stupor and still could not understand how, in the end, all this happened ...
Remi moaned on the floor, imitating a near-dying victim, which plunged me into real horror. I had no idea how hard the hit was, so I couldn't even guess if he was playing to get back at me or if he was really that bad. Someone called an ambulance, the teacher-mother came, and I was still standing like a pillar, unable to speak, the emotional shock was so strong.
Why did you do it? the teacher asked.
I looked into her eyes and could not utter a word. Not because she did not know what to say, but simply because she still could not move away from that terrible shock that she herself received from what she had done. I still can’t say what the teacher saw in my eyes then. But that violent indignation that everyone expected so much did not happen, or rather, nothing happened at all ... She, somehow, managed to collect all her indignation "into a fist" and, as if nothing had happened, calmly ordered everyone sit down and start the lesson. Just as simple, as if absolutely nothing had happened, although it was her son who was the victim!
I could not understand this (as no one could understand) and could not calm down, because I felt very guilty. It would be much easier if she yelled at me or just kicked me out of class. I understood very well that she should have been very upset for what had happened and unpleasant that it was I who did it, since before that she had always treated me very well, and now she had to do something hastily (and preferably “error-free”!) decide for me. And I also knew that she was very worried about her son, because we still had no news about him.
I don't remember how this lesson went. Time dragged on surprisingly slowly and it seemed that there would never be an end to it. Somehow waiting for the call, I immediately went up to the teacher and said that I was very, very sorry about what happened, but that I honestly and absolutely do not understand how this could happen. I don’t know if she knew something about my strange abilities or just saw something in my eyes, but somehow she realized that no one could punish me more than I punished myself ...
“Get ready for the next lesson, everything will be fine,” was all the teacher said.
I will never forget that terribly painful hour of waiting while we waited for news from the hospital ... It was very scary and lonely and it was forever imprinted as a nightmare memory in my brain. I was guilty of "assassination" on someone's life!!! It didn't matter if it happened by accident or on purpose. It was a Human Life, and at my discretion, it could suddenly end ... And, of course, I had no right to do so.
But, as it turned out, to my greatest relief, nothing terrible, except for a good fright, happened to our “terrorist classmate”. He escaped with just a small bump and the very next day he was again sitting at his desk, only this time he behaved surprisingly quietly and, to everyone's satisfaction, no "vindictive" actions on his part against me followed. The world seemed beautiful again! I could breathe freely, no longer feeling that terrible guilt that had just hung on me, which would have completely poisoned my entire existence for many years if a different answer had come from the hospital.
Of course, there was a bitter feeling of reproach to myself and deep regret for what I had done, but there was no longer that terrible genuine feeling of fear that kept my whole being in a cold vice until we received positive news. It seemed that everything was fine again ... Only, unfortunately, this unfortunate incident left such a deep imprint in my soul that I didn’t want to hear about anything “unusual” even from afar. I shied away from the slightest manifestation of any “unusual” in me, and as soon as I felt that something “strange” suddenly began to appear, I immediately tried to extinguish it, not giving any opportunity to again draw myself into the maelstrom of any dangerous surprises.
I honestly tried to be the most ordinary “normal” child: I studied at school (even more than usual!), I read a lot, I went to the cinema with friends more often than before, diligently attended my favorite music school ... and constantly felt some kind of deep, an aching spiritual void that none of the activities mentioned above could fill, even if I honestly tried my best.
But the days fled with each other for distillation and all the “bad terrible” began to be forgotten little by little. Time healed large and small scars in my childish heart and, as they always say correctly, it turned out to be truly the best and most reliable healer. I gradually began to revive and gradually more and more returned to my usual “abnormal” state, which, as it turned out, I really, really lacked all this time ... It’s not for nothing that they say that even the heaviest burden is not so hard for us only just because it's ours. So it turns out that I really missed my “abnormalities”, which, unfortunately, quite often made me suffer...

That same winter, another unusual “novelty” appeared in me, which could probably be called self-anaesthesia. To my great regret, it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Just like so many of my "strange" manifestations that suddenly opened very brightly and immediately disappeared, leaving only good or bad memories in my huge personal "brain archive". But even in the short time that this “novelty” remained “active”, two very interesting events took place, which I would like to tell about here ...
Winter has already come, and many of my classmates have begun to go to the skating rink more and more often. I was not a very big fan of figure skating (or rather, I preferred to watch), but our rink was so beautiful that I liked to just go there. It took place every winter in the stadium, which was built right in the forest (like most of our town) and surrounded by a high brick wall, which from afar made it look like a miniature city.
Since October, a huge New Year tree has been dressed up there, and the entire wall around the stadium was decorated with hundreds of multi-colored light bulbs, the reflections of which were woven on the ice into a very beautiful sparkling carpet. In the evenings, pleasant music played there, and all this together created a cozy festive atmosphere around, which one did not want to leave. All the kids from our street went skating, and, of course, I went to the skating rink with them. On one of these pleasant quiet evenings, something happened that was not quite an ordinary incident, which I would like to tell about.
We usually rode in a chain of three or four people, as it was not entirely safe to ride alone in the evening. The reason was that in the evenings there were a lot of "catching" boys, whom no one liked, and who usually spoiled the fun for everyone around. They grappled with several people and, riding very fast, tried to catch the girls, who, naturally, unable to resist the oncoming blow, usually fell onto the ice. This was accompanied by laughter and whooping, which the majority found stupid, but, unfortunately, for some reason, none of the same "majority" was stopped.
I was always surprised that among so many, almost grown-up guys, there was not a single one who would have been offended by this situation or even outraged, causing at least some opposition. Or maybe it did, but only the fear was stronger? .. After all, it’s not for nothing that there is a stupid saying that: impudence is the second happiness ... These “catchers” took everyone else with simple undisguised arrogance. This was repeated every night and there was no one who even tried to stop the impudent people.
It was in such a stupid "trap" that evening that I fell into. Not skating well enough, I tried to stay as far away from the crazy "catchers" as possible, but this did not help much, as they raced around the court like mad, not sparing anyone around. Therefore, whether I wanted it or not, our clash was almost inevitable...
The push was strong, and we all fell in a moving pile onto the ice. I didn’t hurt myself, but suddenly I felt something hot flowing down my ankle and my leg went numb. I somehow slipped out of the ball of bodies floundering on the ice and saw that my leg was somehow terribly cut. Apparently, I very much collided with one of the falling guys, and someone's skate hurt me so badly.
It looked, I must say, very unpleasant ... My skates had short boots (it was still impossible to get high boots at that time), and I saw that my entire leg at the ankle had been cut almost to the bone ... Others also saw, and then panic began. The nervous girls almost fainted, because the view, frankly, was creepy. To my surprise, I was not frightened and did not cry, although in the first seconds the state was almost like a shock. Holding the incision with all my might, I tried to concentrate and think about something pleasant, which turned out to be quite difficult because of the cutting pain in my leg. Blood seeped through the fingers and fell in large drops on the ice, gradually gathering on it into a small puddle ...
Naturally, this could not calm down the already rather excited guys. Someone ran to call an ambulance, and someone clumsily tried to help me somehow, only complicating an already unpleasant situation for me. Then I tried to concentrate again and thought that the bleeding should stop. And began to wait patiently. To everyone's surprise, in just a minute nothing was seeping through my fingers! I asked our boys to help me get up. Fortunately, my neighbor, Romas, was there, who usually never contradicted me in anything. I asked him to help me get up. He said that if I stood up, then the blood would probably “flow like a river” again. I took my hands away from the cut... and what was our surprise when we saw that there was no more blood at all! It looked very unusual - the wound was large and open, but almost completely dry.
When the ambulance finally arrived, the doctor who examined me could not understand what had happened and why I was not bleeding with such a deep wound. What he didn't know was that not only did I not bleed, but I also didn't feel any pain at all! I saw the wound with my own eyes and, according to all the laws of nature, I should have felt a wild pain ... which, oddly enough, in this case was not at all. I was taken to the hospital and prepared to be stitched up.
When I said that I did not want anesthesia, the doctor looked at me as if I were a quiet lunatic and prepared to give an anesthetic injection. Then I told him that I would scream ... This time he looked at me very carefully and, nodding his head, began to sew up. It was very strange to watch how my flesh was pierced with a long needle, and I, instead of something very painful and unpleasant, felt only a slight “mosquito” bite. The doctor watched me all the time and asked several times if everything was all right with me. I answered yes. Then he asked if this always happens to me? I said no, just now.
I don’t know whether he was a very “advanced” doctor for that time, or whether I somehow managed to convince him, but, one way or another, he believed me and did not ask any more questions. About an hour later I was already at home and with pleasure devoured warm grandmother's pies in the kitchen, not eating at all and sincerely surprised at such a wild feeling of hunger, as if I had not eaten for several days. Now, of course, I already understand that it was simply too much loss of energy after my “self-treatment”, which urgently needed to be restored, but then, of course, I still could not know this.
The second case of the same strange self-anaesthesia occurred during an operation that our family doctor, Dana, persuaded us to go for. As far as I could remember, my mother and I often had a sore throat. This happened not only from a cold in winter, but also in summer, when it was very dry and warm outside. As soon as we overheated a little, our sore throat was here, as it were, and made us lie in bed without getting out for a week or two, which my mother and I equally disliked. And so, after consulting, we finally decided to heed the voice of "professional medicine" and remove what so often prevented us from living a normal life (although, as it turned out later, there was no need to remove this, and this, again, was another mistake of our "omniscient "doctors).
The operation was scheduled for one of the weekdays, when my mother, like everyone else, naturally worked. She and I agreed that first, in the morning, I would go for the operation, and after work, she would do it. But my mother ironically promised that she would definitely try to come at least for half an hour before the doctor starts to “gut” me. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel fear, but there was some kind of aching feeling of uncertainty. It was the first operation in my life and I had no idea how it would happen.
From the very morning, like a lion cub in a cage, I walked back and forth along the corridor, waiting for when all this would finally begin. Then, as now, what I disliked the most was waiting for anything or anyone. And I have always preferred the most unpleasant reality to any "fluffy" uncertainty. When I knew what was happening and how, I was ready to fight it or, if necessary, to solve something. In my understanding, there were no unsolvable situations - there were only indecisive or indifferent people. Therefore, even then, in the hospital, I really wanted to get rid of the “trouble” hanging over my head as soon as possible and to know that it was already behind ...