Why does the "friend of man" sometimes cause mystical horror?
We are all accustomed to the fact that a dog is a friend of man. At the same time, the hero of many literary adventures, mysterious and gloomy, was the Black Dog. It was she, exuding horror, under the howling of a storm, ran on dark nights along the echoing corridors of ancient castles, along slimy cemetery fences or shutters creaking in the wind …
Today we will talk about a completely different black dog from the famous book "The Phenomena of the Book of Miracles" (J. Michell, R. Ricard), where it is a specific type of ball lightning - black lightning, in which one or two cores are visible through a dark shell - “Eyes of a black dog”. And not about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's gigantic dog of the Baskervilles. Our story is about just dogs, which were written to be black.
Among the earthly manifestations of evil spirits, black dogs, according to medieval superstitions, were among the main ones. Needless to say, they look, especially at night (black on black), very ominous.
In the pitch darkness, nothing is heard, except for a ferocious growl and a hoarse, angry barking, nothing is visible, except for the grin of clanking teeth and eyes sparkling with fury. In some mystical films, scenes with such dogs somewhere in an abandoned cemetery or wasteland are very impressive …
In ancient times, such dogs were afraid of panic. History has preserved, for example, the stories about the black poodle of the famous alchemist and magician Dr. Faust (there were several Faust, however, both in life and in literature) - the dog, in whose image Mephistopheles "arrived". However, an old engraving (see, for example, F. Hartmann. "Life of Paracelsus". M., 1997), dedicated to this episode with Dr. Johannes Faust, shows not a graceful and thin poodle, but a viciously grinning "doggie" resembling his powerful constitution is more likely a wild boar or a cornered wolverine than the aristocratic noble Artemon from a children's fairy tale about Buratino.
The image of a black dog created at that time determined the entire structure of the behavior of such an image. All magicians were assigned a dog. The famous physician and philosopher Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa of Nettesheim (1456-1535) also had a black dog who lived with him and constantly accompanied him. They were very afraid of this strange dog, believing that under her guise was none other than the devil himself! In addition, a collar was tied around the animal's neck, all studded with nails, which were believed to form a protective magical inscription. Usually this dog stayed in the scientist's office, lying on a pile of books and papers, when his master read or wrote something.
They assure that, being dying, Agrippa took off this collar and released him into the wild with the words: "Go away, unfortunate beast, the cause of my death!" After the death of the owner, the dog ran out of the house, rushed into the river and drowned.
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The famous Grand Inquisitor from Spain Thomas Torquemada (1420-1498) reports in one of the books about a certain knight who, making his way to his beloved nun in the agreed place, had to go through the monastery church, unlocking it with pre-forged keys. There he suddenly saw a crowd of clergy performing a funeral service for a certain deceased. The faces of the priests were unfamiliar to him. Asking who the deceased was, the knight suddenly heard … his own name! Realizing that the circumstances clearly do not add up to meet with his beloved, the knight went out, jumped on his horse and rode home.
“But then, to his indescribable horror, he noticed that two huge black dogs were following on his heels,” comments MA Orlov (“History of the relationship of a man with the devil.” St. Petersburg, 1904). The knight drew his sword and swung at the dogs, but they, not at all embarrassed, continued to run after him.
He got home barely alive. The servants took him off the horse, led him into the house, put him to bed … But at that moment those two black dogs who were chasing him rushed into the room, rushed at him, strangled him and tore him apart before the stunned domestic ones had time to protect him …"
One of the magical "uses" of the black dog was the extraction of the mandrake (the modern name is Carnioli scopolia, from which the alkaloid scopolamine is extracted). Mandrake, more precisely, its root, was considered the most reliable means of promoting love, health and happiness. AT
In the Middle Ages, everyone believed in the power of the mandrake - from commoners to kings. Let's say in
Prague, the patron saint of magicians and alchemists, Emperor Rudolph II (1552-1612) had his own personal mandrake Marion. Root wore a red silk shirt. On the new moon, he was supposed to be washed in wine, so that he would not cry and scream like a small child. The emperor constantly wore it around his neck, because he believed that Marion kept him from diseases.
The respectful and superstitious attitude towards the mandrake root was associated primarily with the fact that, as any buyer saw, it unusually resembled a figurine of a little man. Up to the point that hair grew on the head in the area of the face and crown, on the body in the chest area and in the groin! The root was traded only by special sellers of teriacs (medicinal balms), who took at least 30-60 gold thalers apiece. The sellers (and it was they who molded the root into a man) assured that the root was bewitched, that its extraction was associated with mortal dangers.
The time for collecting the root was allotted to the last phases of the moon, when it was darker. They gave a lot of necessary mystical advice, warnings and instructions, saving from the evil spirits watching the root. It was necessary to place oneself "in the wind", draw three concentric circles around oneself and the plants with a sword or a knife, and, no matter what happened, in no case should one leave these saving circles. Then you should have covered your ears with resin or wax, so as not to hear the terrible, murderous screams of the sworn root.
Needless to say, the role of this most terrible beast was assigned to the black dog?
It was argued that, having outlined the circles, it is necessary to dig in the root around, but in no case pull it out and not touch it with your hands. Gently grabbing the plant in a loop, the rope should be tied to the dog's tail. Further, it was necessary that there was strength to whack the unfortunate animal with a stick on the back, forcing it to pull the root out of the ground (ears were covered, apparently, precisely in order not to hear the screams of the beaten animal) … On the colorful title page of a valuable ancient Greek manuscript
Theophrastus (387-372 BC), kept in the court library of Vienna (Austria), the picture depicted just such a process of root extraction.
But usually they just told horror stories about black dogs. The collection "Secrets of Magic and Witchcraft" (M., 1883) cited an amusing story of one French doctor Poran, published in the "Big Notes of Scientific Medicine" (v. XXXIV): "The first battalion of the Latour-Auverne regiment, in which I was a physician … received an order to march from Palmi, Calabria, Tropea (southern Italy - AA). It was in June, and the battalion had to travel about 40 native miles. He left at midnight and only at 7 pm reached Tropea, badly damaged on the way from the heat of the sun. Arriving at the place, the soldiers found a prepared dinner and a room.
Since the battalion came from afar and, moreover, the last one, the most nasty barracks, which were supposed to accommodate 800 people, were assigned to it, whereas in ordinary times there were only 400. The soldiers lay on the floor without straw and blankets and therefore could not undress. The residents warned us that the battalion would not stay in this barracks for long, because a spirit appeared there every night and that other regiments had already got to know him. We only laughed at their gullibility, but what was our surprise when at midnight we heard terrible screams throughout the barracks, and all the soldiers rushed out of the door. I asked them about the reason for the horror, and all answered that the devil had settled in the barracks. They saw him enter the room, assuming the form of a large dog with long black fur, and, running over them with the speed of lightning, disappeared into the opposite corner.
Laughing at their panic, we tried to prove to them that this phenomenon depended on a simple and natural cause and was only a consequence of their own imagination. However, we could not calm them down and force them to enter the barracks. The soldiers spent the rest of the night on the seashore and in all corners of the city (a good excuse for AWOL - AA). The next day, I again questioned the non-commissioned officers and old soldiers, who assured me that yesterday the dog really ran over them and almost strangled them.
When night fell, the soldiers lay down in the barracks on the condition that we spend the night with them. At 11.30 o'clock I went to the barracks with the chief of the battalion. Out of curiosity, the officers settled down in their rooms. We did not in the least think that yesterday's scene could repeat itself, when at one o'clock there were shouts in all the rooms and the soldiers, fearing to be strangled by the dog, ran out of the barracks. We haven't seen anything."
Another curious story about mysterious black dogs was published by V. A. Mezentsev (see "In the dead ends of mysticism". M., 1987). In 1649, the rebellious English parliament sent a commission to the estate of the deposed (and soon executed) King Charles I (1600-1649), known to us from the book by Alexandre Dumas "Twenty Years Later". The commission was to inspect the estate and confiscate royal values. At the very first meeting, when the commission was discussing a series of upcoming events, a huge black dog suddenly burst into the former royal reception room, which swept through the room with a howl. The stunned members of the commission did not have time to do anything when the black dog disappeared.
The black harbinger of bad events did not deceive. The next evening, when the members of the commission were having supper, someone's heavy footsteps were heard in the rooms above them, although these rooms were firmly locked. Running in there, people saw that all their papers were torn to shreds, inkpots were broken, chairs were overturned, firewood was scattered by the fireplace (poltergeist! - a modern science enthusiast would happily declare). On the following terrible nights in the royal castle at the most inopportune moment the candles were extinguished, spreading a suffocating, hellish smell of sulfur. Tin plates and breadbaskets flew through the rooms, sometimes hitting people who dared to settle in the chambers of the former king. Most of the window panes were broken, bricks were falling from the chimneys,deafening explosions were heard in all the rooms and - again and again - there was a smell of devilish sulfur … When the uninvited guests went to bed, they were suddenly doused with rotten water.
The secretary of the commission, Sharpe, swore that he saw the hoof of some animal (perhaps the devil himself?) Descend on top of a burning candle and extinguish it. When he tried to snatch the sword from its scabbard, someone tore it out and hit the secretary with such force on the head that he collapsed to the floor without feeling.
The news of the extraordinary incidents spread throughout the country. Rumors spread about the injustice of the execution of the king.
The years have passed. The Civil War in England ended, the irreconcilable Oliver Cromwell retired, and it was then that someone Joseph Collins declared that all the amazing "devilish" intrigues were … his work! No wonder his friends at Oxford called him The Funny Joe. Collins was a royalist in his political mood. However, under the fictitious name of that same "Sharpe's Secretary", he managed to get into the notorious commission.
Together with two friends who worked at the castle, and with the help of several pounds of gunpowder, he terrorized the commission. There was a hatch in the ceiling of one of the rooms, the existence of which no one suspected. It was through him that Joseph's friends penetrated and then disappeared into carefully locked rooms. Deafening explosions and the noise of falling bricks were created by pouring gunpowder from tin plates onto hot coals or throwing it into chimneys. And the candles were extinguished due to the fact that gunpowder was mixed into the wicks - when the flame reached it, it exploded and extinguished the candle, leaving behind the smell of sulfur.
As for the terrible black dog that caused a commotion on the very first day of the commission's stay in the castle, as it turned out, it had whelped just before that! Collins simply hid the puppies, and the furious mother screamed and screamed for a carouse in all the rooms!
Wasn't the same pitch-black dog that frightened an entire regiment in Calabria? Or did she run before Faust? Alas, now the unknown: as they say in the nursery rhyme, "niggers dogs - all disappear in the black darkness …"
Alexander AREFIEV