J. G. Wood

Serpents in general—The fiery Serpents of the wilderness—Explanation of the words "flying" and "fiery" as applied to Serpents—Haunts of the Serpent—The Cobra, or Asp of Scripture—The Cerastes, or Horned Serpent—Appearance and habits of the reptile—The "Adder in the path."

As we have seen that so much looseness of nomenclature prevailed among the Hebrews even with regard to the mammalia, birds, and lizards, we can but expect that the names of the Serpents will be equally difficult to identify.

No less than seven names are employed in the Old Testament to denote some species of Serpent; but there are only two which can be identified with any certainty, four others being left to mere conjecture, and one being clearly a word which, like our snake or serpent, is a word not restricted to any particular species, but signifying Serpents in general. This word is nÂchÂsh (pronounced nah-kahsh). It is unfortunate that the word is so variously translated in different passages of Scripture, and we cannot do better than to follow it through the Ola Testament, so as to bring all the passages under our glance.

The first mention of the NÂchÂsh occurs in Gen. iii., in the well-known passage where the Serpent is said to be more subtle than all the beasts of the field, the wisdom or subtlety of the Serpent having evidently an allegorical and not a categorical signification. We find the same symbolism employed in the New Testament, the disciples of our Lord being told to be "wise as serpents, and harmless as doves."

Allusion is made to the gliding movement of the Serpent tribe in Prov. xxx. 19. On this part of the subject little need be said, except that the movements of the Serpent are owing to the mobility of the ribs, which are pushed forward in succession and drawn back again, so as to catch against any inequality of the ground. This power is increased by the structure of the scales. Those of the upper part of the body, which are not used for locomotion, are shaped something like the scales of a fish; but those of the lower part of the body, which come in contact with the ground, are broad belts, each overlapping the other, and each connected with one pair of ribs.

When, therefore, the Serpent pushes forward the ribs, the edges of the scaly belts will catch against the slightest projection, and are able to give a very powerful impetus to the body. It is scarcely possible to drag a snake backwards over rough ground; while on a smooth surface, such as glass, the Serpent would be totally unable to proceed. This, however, was not likely to have been studied by the ancient Hebrews, who were among the most unobservant of mankind with regard to details of natural history: it is, therefore, no wonder that the gliding of the Serpent should strike the writer of the proverb in question as a mystery which he could not explain.

The poisonous nature of some of the Serpents is mentioned in several passages of Scripture; and it will be seen that the ancient Hebrews, like many modern Europeans, believed that the poison lay in the forked tongue. See, for example, Ps. lviii. 4: "Their poison is like the poison of a serpent" (nÂchÂsh). Also Prov. xxiii. 32, in which the sacred writer says of wine that it brings woe, sorrow, contentions, wounds without cause, redness of eyes, and that "at the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder."

COBRA AND CERASTES, THE ASP AND ADDER OF SCRIPTURE.

The idea that the poison of the Serpent lies in the tongue is seen in several passages of Scripture. "They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent; adders' poison is under their lips" (Ps. cxl. 3). Also in Job xx. 16, the sacred writer says of the hypocrite, that "he shall suck the poison of asps: the viper's tongue shall slay him."

As to the fiery Serpents of the wilderness, it is scarcely needful to mention that the epithet of "fiery" does not signify that the Serpents in question produced real fire from their mouths, but that allusion is made to the power and virulence of their poison, and to the pain caused by their bite. We ourselves naturally employ a similar metaphor, and speak of a "burning pain," of a "fiery trial," of "hot anger," and the like.

The epithet of "flying" which is applied to these Serpents is explained by the earlier commentators as having reference to a Serpent which they called the Dart Snake, and which they believed to lie in wait for men and to spring at them from a distance. They thought that this snake hid itself either in hollows of the ground or in trees, and sprang through the air for thirty feet upon any man or beast that happened to pass by.

We will now take the various species of Serpents mentioned in the Bible, as nearly as they can be identified.

Of one species there is no doubt whatever. This is the Cobra di Capello, a serpent which is evidently signified by the Hebrew word pethen.

This celebrated Serpent has long been famous, not only for the deadly power of its venom, but for the singular performances in which it takes part. The Cobra inhabits many parts of Asia, and in almost every place where it is found, certain daring men take upon themselves the profession of serpent-charmers, and handle these fearful reptiles with impunity, cause them to move in time to certain musical sounds, and assert that they bear a life charmed against the bite of these deadly playmates.

One of these men will take a Cobra in his bare hands, toss it about with perfect indifference, allow it to twine about his naked breast, tie it around his neck, and treat it with as little ceremony as if it were an earth-worm. He will then take the same Serpent—or apparently the same—make it bite a fowl, which soon dies from the poison, and will then renew his performance.

Some persons say that the whole affair is but an exhibition of that jugglery in which the natives of the East Indies are such wondrous adepts; that the Serpents with which the man plays are harmless, having been deprived of their fangs, and that a really venomous specimen is adroitly substituted for the purpose of killing the fowl. It is, moreover, said, and truly, that a snake thought to have been rendered harmless by the deprivation of its fangs, has bitten one of its masters and killed him, thus proving the imposture.

Still, neither of these explanations will entirely disprove the mastery of man over a venomous Serpent.

In the first instance, it is surely as perilous an action to substitute a venomous Serpent as to play with it. Where was it hidden, why did it not bite the man instead of the fowl, and how did the juggler prevent it from using its teeth while he was conveying it away?

And, in the second instance, the detection of one impostor is by no means a proof that all who pretend to the same powers are likewise impostors.

The following narrative by a traveller in the East seems to prove that the serpent-charmer possessed sufficient power to induce a truly poisonous Serpent to leave its hole, and to perform certain antics at his command:

"A snake-charmer came to my bungalow, requesting me to allow him to show his snakes. As I had frequently seen his performance, I declined to witness a repetition of it, but told him that if he would accompany me to the jungle and catch a Cobra, that I knew frequented the place, I would give him a present of money. He was quite willing, and as I was anxious to test the truth of the charm he claimed to possess, I carefully counted his tame snakes, and put a guard over them until we should return.

"Before starting I also examined his clothing, and satisfied myself that he had no snake about his person. When we arrived at the spot, he commenced playing upon a small pipe, and, after persevering for some time, out crawled a large Cobra from an ant-hill which I knew it occupied.

"On seeing the man it tried to escape, but he quickly caught it by the tail and kept swinging it round until we reached the bungalow. He then laid it upon the ground and made it raise and lower its head to the sound of his pipe.

"Before long, however, it bit him above the knee. He immediately bandaged the leg tightly above the wound, and applied a piece of porous stone, called a snake-stone, to extract the poison. He was in great pain for a few minutes, but afterwards it gradually subsided, the stone falling from the wound just before he was relieved.

"When he recovered he held up a cloth, at which the snake flew and hung by its fangs. While in this position the man passed his hand up its back, and having seized it tightly by the throat, he pulled out the fangs and gave them to me. He then squeezed out the poison, from the glands in the Serpent's mouth, upon a leaf. It was a clear, oily substance, which when rubbed with the hand produced a fine lather.

"The whole operation was carefully watched by me, and was also witnessed by several other persons."

How the serpent-charmers perform their feats is not very intelligible. That they handle the most venomous Serpents with perfect impunity is evident enough, and it is also clear that they are able to produce certain effects upon the Serpents by means of musical (or unmusical) sounds. But these two items are entirely distinct, and one does not depend upon the other.

In the first place, the handling of venomous snakes has been performed by ordinary men without the least recourse to any arts except that of acquaintance with the habits of Serpents. The late Mr. Waterton, for example, would take up a rattlesnake in his bare hand without feeling the least uneasy as to the behaviour of his prisoner. He once took twenty-seven rattlesnakes[619]
[620] out of a box, carried them into another room, put them into a large glass case, and afterwards replaced them in the box. He described to me the manner in which he did it, using my wrist as the representative of the Serpent.

The nature of all Serpents is rather peculiar, and is probably owing to the mode in which the blood circulates. They are extremely unwilling to move, except when urged by the wants of nature, and will lie coiled up for many hours together when not pressed by hunger. Consequently, when touched, their feeling is evidently like that of a drowsy man, who only tries to shake off the object which may rouse him, and composes himself afresh to sleep.

A quick and sudden movement would, however, alarm the reptile, which would strike in self-defence, and, sluggish as are its general movements, its stroke is delivered with such lightning rapidity that it would be sure to inflict its fatal wound before it was seized.

If, therefore, Mr. Waterton saw a Serpent which he desired to catch, he would creep very quietly up to it, and with a gentle, slow movement place his fingers round its neck just behind the head. If it happened to be coiled up in such a manner that he could not get at its neck, he had only to touch it gently until it moved sufficiently for his purpose.

When he had once placed his hand on the Serpent, it was in his power. He would then grasp it very lightly indeed, and raise it gently from the ground, trusting that the reptile would be more inclined to be carried quietly than to summon up sufficient energy to bite. Even if it had tried to use its fangs, it could not have done so as long as its captor's fingers were round its neck.

As a rule, a great amount of provocation is needed before a venomous Serpent will use its teeth. One of my friends, when a boy, caught a viper, mistaking it for a common snake. He tied it round his neck, coiled it on his wrist by way of a bracelet, and so took it home, playing many similar tricks with it as he went. After arrival in the house, he produced the viper for the amusement of his brothers and sisters, and, after repeating his performances, tried to tie the snake in a double knot. This, however, was enough to provoke the most pacific of creatures, and in consequence he received a bite on his finger.

The poison was not slow to take effect; first, the wound looked and felt like a nettle sting, then like a wasp sting, and in the course of a few minutes the whole finger was swollen. At this juncture his father, a medical man, fortunately arrived, and set the approved antidotes, ammonia, oil, and lunar caustic, to the wound, having previously made incisions about the punctured spot, and with paternal affection attempted to suck out the poison. In spite of these remedies a serious illness was the result of the bite, from which the boy did not recover for several weeks.

There is no doubt that the snake-charmers trust chiefly to this sluggish nature of the reptile, but they certainly go through some ceremonies by which they believe themselves to be rendered impervious to snake-bites. They will coil the cobra round their naked bodies, they will irritate the reptile until it is in a state of fury; they will even allow it to bite them, and yet be none the worse for the wound. Then, as if to show that the venomous teeth have not been abstracted, as is possibly supposed to be the case, they will make the cobra bite a fowl, which speedily dies from the effects of the poison.

Even if the fangs were extracted, the Serpents would lose little of their venomous power. These reptiles are furnished with a whole series of fangs in different stages of development, so that when the one in use is broken or shed in the course of nature, another comes forward and fills its place. There is now before me a row of four fangs, which I took from the right upper jawbone of a viper which I recently caught.

In her interesting "Letters from Egypt," Lady Duff-Gordon gives an amusing account of the manner in which she was formally initiated into the mysteries of snake-charming, and made ever afterwards impervious to the bite of venomous Serpents:—

"At KÓm Omboo, we met with a RifÁee darweesh with his basket of tame snakes. After a little talk, he proposed to initiate me: and so we sat down and held hands like people marrying. Omar [her attendant] sat behind me, and repeated the words as my 'wakeel.' Then the RifÁee twisted a cobra round our joined hands, and requested me to spit on it; he did the same, and I was pronounced safe and enveloped in snakes. My sailors groaned, and Omar shuddered as the snakes put out their tongues; the darweesh and I smiled at each other like Roman augurs."

She believed that the snakes were toothless; and perhaps on this occasion they may have been so. Extracting the teeth of the Serpent is an easy business in experienced hands, and is conducted in two ways. Those snake-charmers who are confident of their own powers merely grasp the reptile by the neck, force open its jaws with a piece of stick, and break off the fangs, which are but loosely attached to the jaw. Those who are not so sure of themselves irritate the snake, and offer it a piece of cloth, generally the corner of their mantle, to bite. The snake darts at it, and, as it seizes the garment, the man gives the cloth a sudden jerk, and so tears away the fangs.

Still, although some of the performers employ mutilated snakes, there is no doubt that others do not trouble themselves to remove the fangs of the Serpents, but handle with impunity the cobra or the cerastes with all its venomous apparatus in good order.

We now come to the second branch of the subject, namely, the influence of sound upon the cobra and other Serpents. The charmers are always provided with musical instruments, of which a sort of flute with a loud shrill sound is the one which is mostly used in the performances. Having ascertained, from slight marks which their practised eyes easily discover, that a Serpent is hidden in some crevice, the charmer plays upon his flute, and in a short time the snake is sure to make its appearance.

As soon as it is fairly out, the man seizes it by the end of the tail, and holds it up in the air at arm's length. In this position it is helpless, having no leverage, and merely wriggles about in fruitless struggles to escape. Having allowed it to exhaust its strength by its efforts, the man lowers it into a basket, where it is only too glad to find a refuge, and closes the lid. After a while, he raises the lid and begins to play the flute.

The Serpent tries to glide out of the basket, but, as soon as it does so, the lid is shut down again, and in a very short time the reptile finds that escape is impossible, and, as long as it hears the sound of the flute, only raises its head in the air, supporting itself on the lower portion of its tail, and continues to wave its head from side to side as long as it hears the sound of the music.

The rapidity with which a cobra learns this lesson is extraordinary, the charmers being as willing to show their mastery over newly-caught Serpents as over those which have been long in their possession.

The colour of the Cobra is in most cases a brownish olive. The most noted peculiarity is the expansion of the neck, popularly called the hood. This phenomenon is attributable not only to the skin and muscles, but to the skeleton. About twenty pairs of the ribs of the neck and fore part of the back are flat instead of curved, and increase gradually from the head to the eleventh or twelfth pair, from which they decrease until they are merged into the ordinary curved ribs of the body. When the snake is excited, it brings these ribs forward so as to spread the skin, and then displays the oval hood to best advantage.

In the Cobra di Capello the back of the hood is ornamented by two large eye-like spots, united by a curved black stripe, so formed that the whole mark bears a singular resemblance to a pair of spectacles.