"Timeo Danaos, et dona ferentes."
"Timeo Danaos, et dona ferentes."
Because a wolf will cower down in the corner of his lair (even a tiger has been known to do so)—when a mansuddenly enters his presence, and will manifest the most abject fear, would it be philosophical to ridicule the tales told of wolves pursuing and devouring men by night?
M. Langsdorff asked the people of Brazil if the Caranquexeira, or the greatMygaleof that country, fed upon humming-birds, when they answered him, with bursts of laughter, that it only gratified its maw with large flies, ants, bees, wasps, beetles, &c.; an answer which the traveller verified by his own personal experience.[158]If M. Langsdorff means, which of course he does, that he learned by personal observation that the spiderordinarilyfeeds on insects, that fact is indubitable, and never has been doubted; but if he means that he had experience that it eatsonlysuch prey, which is the question at issue, it is plain that this experience proves no more than that he never witnessed such a fact.
Percival, in his account of Ceylon, observes:—"There is an immense spider here, with legs not less than four inches long, and having the body covered with thick black hair." This was doubtless theMygaleof the island. "The webs which it makes are strong enough to entangle and hold even small birds, which form its usual prey." Alluding to this statement, Sir Emerson Tennent says:—
"As to the stories told of theMygalecatching and killing birds, I am satisfied, both from inquiry and observation, that, at least in Ceylon, they are destitute of truth, and that (unless in the possible case of acute suffering from hunger) this creature shuns all description of foodexcept soft insects and annelides." And yet he immediately adds:—"A lady at Marandan, near Colombo, told me that she had, on one occasion, seen a little house-lizard (gecko) seized and devoured by one of these ugly spiders."[159]Does he not, then, credit his informant? Or are lizards included in the category of "soft insects and annelides?"
Against this incredulity, resting on no better than negative evidence, one might adduce collateral proof from analogy. Therearespiders which feed on vertebrate animals, and therearespiders whose webs catch birds. The large and beautifulNephila claripesof tropical America weaves strong threads of yellow silk in the paths of the woods, converging to a web quite strong enough to arrest a bird of weak flight. It must have been a species allied to this, but certainly, I think, not the same, of which Dr Walsh speaks in his "Travels in Brazil." "Among the insects is an enormous spider, which I did not observe elsewhere. In passing through an opening between some trees, I felt my head entangled in some obstructions, and on withdrawing it, my straw hat remained behind. When I looked up I saw it suspended in the air, entangled in the meshes of an immense cobweb, which was drawn like a veil of thick gauze across the opening, and was expanded from branch to branch of the opposite trees as large as a sheet ten or twelve feet in diameter. The whole of this space was covered with spiders of the same species but different sizes; some of them, when their legs were expanded, forming a circle of six or seven inches incircumference.[160]They were particularly distinguished by bright spots. The cords composing the web were of a glossy yellow, like the fibres of silkworms, and equally strong."
There is a creature found in the tropical parts of both hemispheres, calledSolpuga, which though not exactly a spider, is yet so closely allied to that family as to be in some measure responsible for its misdoings. It is about as large as theMygale, and, with sufficient general resemblance to it to warrant its being popularly considered a spider, it has much the same habits and appetites. Captain Hutton, in a most interesting memoir, describes the details of an Indian species under the name ofGaleodes vorax. Among many other details, he says—"This species is extremely voracious, feeding at night upon beetles, flies, and even large lizards; and sometimes gorging itself to such a degree as to render it almost unable to move. A lizard, three inches long,exclusive of tail, was entirely devoured; the spider sprung at it, and made a seizure immediately behind the shoulder, never quitting its hold until the whole was consumed. The poor lizard struggled violently at first, rolling over and over in its agony, but the spider kept firm hold, and gradually sawed away with its double jaws into the very entrails of the victim. The only parts uneaten were the jaws and part of the skin, although the lizard was at least five inches long from nose to extremity of tail. After this meal, the spider remainedgorged and motionless for about a fortnight, being much swollen and distended.
"A young sparrow, about half grown, was placed under a bell-glass with aGaleodes; the moment the luckless bird moved, the spider seized him by the thigh, which he speedily sawed off, in spite of the sparrow's fluttering; and then as the poor bird continued to struggle in pain, the savage seized him by the throat, and soon put an end to his sufferings by cutting off the head. It did not, however, devour the bird, nor any part of it, but seemed satisfied with having killed it.
"On another occasion, I gave it a large garden-lizard, which was instantly seized by the middle of the body; the lizard, finding that it could not shake off its adversary, turned its head, and bit theGaleodeson the leg, which obliged it immediately to quit its hold and retreat.
"On another occasion my friend, Dr Baddeley, confined one of these spiders in a wall-shade with two young musk rats (Sorex Indicus), both of which were killed by it."[161]
In an expedition to the Kurruckpoor Hills, south of Monghyr, Captain Sherwill found upon the summit of Maruk, a table-topped hill of 1100 feet elevation, several of the gigantic webs of the Epeira spider, some of which measured (including the guy-ropes) from ten to twelve feet in diameter, the reticulated portion being about five feet, in the centre of which the spider, of a formidable size and very active, sits waiting for prey. "The webs," he says, "from their great strength, offered a sensible resistance whenforcing our way through them. In the web of one of the spiders we found a bird entangled, and the young spiders, about eight in number, feeding upon the carcase. The bird was, with the exception of its legs and beak, entirely enveloped in the web, and was much decomposed; the entwined web had completely pinioned the wings of the bird, so as to render its escape impossible. The bird was about the size of a field-lark, and was near the centre of the web; the old spider was about a foot above the bird: we secured, measured, and bottled him. Its dimensions were six inches across the legs, and it was armed with a formidable pair of mandibles."[162]
It is clear, then, that there is nothing absurd or contrary to probability in the statement that spiders attack, overcome, and devour birds. But Madame Merian is here again favoured with direct witnesses to sustain her good faith. M. Moreau de Jonnès expressly mentions, on his own authority, that the South American Mygale climbs the branches of trees to devour the young of humming-birds. But the most satisfactory statement is made by Mr H. W. Bates, who has recently returned from the interior of Brazil after many years spent in studying the entomology of that vast region. No one will deny his competency as a witness. "Now I will relate to you," he says, "what I saw in the month of June 1849, in the neighbourhood of Cameta. I was attracted by a curious movement of the large gray-brown Mygale on the trunk of a vast tree: it was close beneath a deep crevice or chink in the tree,across which this species weaves a dense web, open for its exit and entrance at one end. In the present instance the lower part of the web was broken, and two pretty small finches were entangled in its folds; the finch was about the size of the common siskin of Europe, and I judged the two to be male and female; one of them was quite dead, but secured in the broken web; the other was under the body of the spider, not quite dead, and was covered in parts with the filthy liquor or saliva exuded by the monster. I was on my return from a day's excursion by land at the time, with my boxes full of valuable and delicate insects, and six miles from my house, and therefore could not have brought the specimens home, even if I had wished, which I did not, as the spider was a very common species, easily to be procured nearer home. The species I cannot name; I sent several fine specimens, stuffed, to London, in 1851; it is wholly of a gray-brown colour, and clothed with coarse pile. Doubtless you will immediately know the exact species to which I refer.
"If the Mygales did not prey upon vertebrated animals, I do not see how they could find sufficient subsistence.
BIRD-EATING SPIDER.BIRD-EATING SPIDER.
"On the extensive sandy campos of Santarem, so bare in vegetation, there are hundreds of the broad slanting burrows of the large stout species, (that fine one, dark brown with paler lines down the legs, of which I sent specimens in 1851.) The campos, I know, from close research, to be almost destitute of insects, but at the same time to swarm with small lizards, and some curious ground finches of the Emberiza group (one of which has a songwonderfully resembling our yellow bunting of England), besides which, vast numbers of theCaprimulgidæand ground doves lay their eggs on the bare ground.
"I believe this species of Mygale feeds on these animals and their eggs at night. Just at the close of day, when I have been hurrying home, not liking to be benighted on the pathless waste, I have surprised these monsters, who retreated within the mouths of their burrows on my approach."[163]
It is a notion of long standing and widely diffused, that certain predaceous animals have a power, which, however, they only occasionally exert, of paralysing the creatures on which they prey, so as utterly to take away the faculty of flight, and even, in some circumstances, of drawing them, as if by an irresistible influence, to their known and dreaded destruction. This fascinating power has been most generally attributed to serpents, and is supposed to reside in a peculiar glare and fixity of the eyes, which appear to mesmerise the victims. If the gaze be interrupted,on either part, though but for a moment, it is supposed that the spell is broken. Is there any such power? or is it merely one of the many myths with which popular natural history is still burdened, and which it is the province of real science to explode? Let us gather together a few of the facts on which the opinion rests.
I am not sure whether I ought to reckon as such the following statement, for I do not know the value of the authority on which it rests. It is, however, sufficiently curious.
Dr Bird, a somewhat appropriate authority in this case, mentions an incident which happened in America."Two boys lighted by chance upon a large black snake; upon which one of them resolved to ascertain whether the snake, so celebrated for its powers, could fascinate him. He advanced a few steps nearer the snake, and made a stand, steadily looking on him. When the snake observed him in that situation, he raised his head with a quick motion, and the lad says, that at that instant there appeared something to flash in his eyes, which he could compare to nothing more similar than the rays of light thrown from a glass or mirror when turned in the sun-shine; he said it dazzled his eyes; at the same time the colours appeared very beautiful ... he felt as if he was in a whirlpool, and that every turn brought him nearer to the centre. His comrade seeing him approach nearer to the snake, immediately ran and killed it."[164]
There is, however, better authority than this for the belief in serpent-mesmerism. Professor Kalm states of the Rattlesnake of North America, that it will frequently lie at the bottom of a tree on which a squirrel is seated. The snake fixes his eyes upon the little animal, and from that moment it cannot escape: it begins a doleful outcry, runs up the tree a little way, comes down again, then goes up, and afterwards comes still lower. The snake continues at the bottom of the tree, with its eyes fixed on the squirrel; and its attention is so entirely taken up, that a person accidentally approaching may make a considerable noise, without so much as the snake's turning about. The squirrel comes lower, and at last leaps down to the snake,whose mouth is already wide open for its reception. The little animal then, with a piteous cry, runs into its jaws and is swallowed.
Catesby, though he says he never saw the phenomenon himself, reports the same thing on the testimony of many witnesses, who all agreed that the animals, particularly birds and squirrels, no sooner spy the snake than they skip from spray to spray, hovering and approaching gradually nearer their enemy, regardless of any other danger; but with distracted gestures and outcries descend, though from the top of the loftiest trees, to the mouth of the snake, who, opening his jaws, takes them in and in an instant swallows them.[165]
More recently Acrell tells the same story, as unquestionable. He declares that as the snake, who is the most indolent of all serpents, lies under the shade of a tree, opening his jaws a little, he fixes his brightly-glittering eyes on any bird or squirrel which is in it. The squirrel, uttering a mournful and feeble cry, leaps from bough to bough, as if seeking to escape, but presently, as if struck with the fascination, he comes down the tree, and flings himself, with a spring, into the very jaws of his enemy. A mouse, shut up with a rattlesnake in an iron box, at first sat in one corner, the snake opposite to it. The reptile fixed its terrible eye on the little trembler, which at length threw itself into the mouth of the serpent.[166]
Lawson affirms thathe has seenthe phenomenon actually take place with a squirrel and a rattlesnake.[167]
I said that the belief is widely spread. We have seen it in North America; we will now look at it in Africa.
Captain Forbes incidentally mentions a case analogous to these. Passing through some high grass at Ahomey, he observed, within an inch of his leg, a small lizard, with its eyes fixed. It did not move at his approach. At the same moment a cobra darted at it, and before he could raise his stick, bore the victim away. The captain naturally enough was occupied with his own narrow escape, and simply narrates the facts without comment; but the fixity of the gaze, and the motionlessness of the lizard, were not a little remarkable.[168]
Mr Ellis, in his charming volume on Madagascar and the Cape, makes the following observations:—[169]
"In a country abounding, as Africa does, with serpents, I expected to hear many anecdotes respecting them; and, conversing on one occasion with Mr Pullen, a farmer who has lived many years in the country, and seemed to have paid rather more than usual attention to this species of reptile, he said he once saw a mouse running in a field, and that, coming in sight of a snake, though at a considerable distance, it instantly stopped. The snake fixed its eye on the mouse, which then crept slowly towards the snake, and, as it approached nearer, trembled and shrieked most piteously, but still kept approaching until quite close, when it seemed to become prostrate, and the snake then devoured it. On another occasion he had watched a snake capture a mouse in the same manner; but, as it wasretreating, he followed, and struck it on the back with a stick, when it opened its mouth, and the mouse escaping, ran for some distance, then fell down; but after a minute recovered and ran away. Another time he said he watched a snake in the water, which had fixed its eye on a frog sitting amongst the grass on the bank. The frog, though greatly alarmed, seemed unable to stir, until Mr Pullen gradually pushed a rush growing near so that it intervened between the eye of the snake and its intended victim, when the frog, as if suddenly liberated, darted away. Mr Pullen's ideas were in accordance with the popular notion, that the snake has the power of exercising some mesmeric or other influence through the steady fixing of its eye, and that whatever intercepts this gaze breaks, as it were, the charm, and sets the prisoner free."
A most important witness on this matter is Dr Andrew Smith, the learned zoologist of South Africa, who thus soberly throws the weight of his own thoroughly competent and most conclusive personal observations into the affirmative scale. In his interesting account of the Boomslange, a serpent of considerable size found in that region, he says:—
"As this snake,Bucephalus capensis, in our opinion, is not provided with a poisonous fluid to instil into wounds which these fangs may inflict, they must consequently be intended for a purpose different to those which exist in poisonous reptiles. Their use seems to be to offer obstacles to the retrogression of animals, such as birds, &c., while they are only partially within the mouth; and, fromthe circumstance of these fangs being directed backwards, and not admitting of being raised so as to form an angle with the edge of the jaw, they are well fitted to act as powerful holders when once they penetrate the skin and soft parts of the prey which their possessors may be in the act of swallowing. Without such fangs escapes would be common; with such, they are rare.
"The natives of South Africa regard theBucephalus capensisas poisonous; but in their opinion we cannot concur, as we have not been able to discover the existence of any glands manifestly organised for the secretion of poison. The fangs are enclosed in a soft, pulpy sheath, the inner surface of which is commonly coated with a thin glairy secretion. This secretion possibly may have something acrid and irritating in its qualities, which may, when it enters a wound, occasion pain and even swelling, but nothing of greater importance.
"TheBucephalus capensisis generally found upon trees, to which it resorts for the purpose of catching birds, upon which it delights to feed. The presence of a specimen in a tree is generally soon discovered by the birds of the neighbourhood, who collect around it, and fly to and fro, uttering the most piercing cries, until some one, more terror-struck than the rest, actually scans its lips, and, almost without resistance, becomes a meal for its enemy. During such a proceeding the snake is generally observed with its head raised about ten or twelve inches above the branch round which its body and tail are entwined, with its mouth open and its neck inflated, as if anxiously endeavouring to increase the terror which it would almost appear it was aware would sooner or later bring within its grasp some one of the feathered group.
"Whatever may be said in ridicule of fascination, it is nevertheless true that birds, and even quadrupeds, are, under such circumstances, unable to retire from the presence of certain of their enemies; and, what is even more extraordinary, unable to resist the propensity to advance from a situation of actual safety into one of the most imminent danger. This I have often seen exemplified in the case of birds and snakes; and I have heard of instances equally curious, in which antelopes and other quadrupeds have been so bewildered by the sudden appearance of crocodiles, and by the grimaces and contortions they practised, as to be unable to fly or even to move from the spot towards which they were approaching to seize them."[170]
It may have been the Boomslange to which Le Vaillant alludes, who says that he saw, on the branch of a tree, a species of shrike, trembling as if in convulsions; and at the distance of nearly four feet, on another branch, he beheld a large species of snake, that was lying with outstretched neck, and fiery eyes, gazing steadily at the poor animal. The agony of the bird was so great, that it was deprived of the power of moving away; and when one of the party killed the snake, the shrike was found dead upon the spot, and that entirely from fear; for on examination it appeared not to have received the slightest wound.The same traveller informs us, that a short time afterwards he observed a small mouse, in similar agonising convulsions, about two yards distant from a snake, whose eyes were intently fixed upon it; and on frightening away the reptile, and taking up the mouse, it expired in his hand.[171]
In a record, by Mr D. T. Evans, of some experiments with Venomous Serpents, made at the Zoological Gardens, mainly with a view to test the efficacy of a reputed remedy for their bite,—Simaba cedron—and which were pursued with the utmost philosophic care, we find the following interesting particulars:—"The attitudes and movements of the serpent intending to bite were very striking and beautiful. In the first place, he made, with the posterior half of his body, a bold curve, having a strong prehensile 'purchase' on the floor of the cage, so as to secure a steady fulcrum for the rapid dart made at the time of the bite. The upper half of the body was raised some ten inches or a foot, the neck strongly arched, and the head, bent at nearly right angles with the neck, was poised directly opposite the prey. In such position the serpent remained a greater or lesser time (sometimes as long as twenty minutes) according to circumstances. During this interval, the slightest motion of the animal before him was followed by an instantaneous and correspondent movement of the head and neck of the serpent. The purpose seemed to be that of aim-taking, for the eyes were intently fixed upon the prey; but I am by no means sure that thesnake, knowing that the latter cannot escape him, does not derive pleasure from this prolonged and intent gaze. At all events, in one experiment, where the head of a rattlesnake so engaged was sideways to the glass of the cage, and near it, I observed, and called attention to the fact, a remarkable vermicular motion along the course of the poison-gland to the opening of the angle of the mouth, which we thought might afford him pleasure, and this continued until the snake struck his prey.
"So far the Serpents. I now proceed to describe the peculiarities shewn by the animals on which we experimented. Some philosophers have denied innate ideas to man; these and some others have furthermore denied an instinctive apprehension of danger in animals. They say that of itself, as born, the hare has no dread of the hound: that its fear is acquired of experience. I concur in neither of these opinions, and think the latter altogether refuted by the conduct of the animals exposed to serpents in these experiments. Not one of the guinea-pigs or rabbits (which were all something under their full growth) had ever seen a serpent; yet when introduced to the cage they shewed unequivocal symptoms of distress and fear. In some instances they actually screamed before they were struck. They generally shewed restlessness at first, but when the serpent, intending to strike, poised himself in front, they became for a time, if not altogether, motionless. Is there such a thing as 'fascination?' If by this is meant a pleasurable paralysis of the animal's powers, I think it more than doubtful; but a deprivationof the power of motion from terror may, perhaps, take place. All, however, that I speak to is a perfectly motionless condition of snake and prey, lasting several minutes."[172]
Nor are there wanting examples of the same power exercised by the common Snake of our own country. I content myself with the following two, both of very recent record:—
"Up the hill above Tyneham," writes the Rev. Henry Bond, last August, "towards the sea, I was struck by the shrill cry and fluttering agitation of a common hedge-sparrow, in a whitethorn bush. Regardless of my presence, its remarkable motions were continued, getting, at every hop from bough to bough, lower and lower down in the bush. Drawing nearer, I saw a common snake coiled up, but having its head erect, watching the sparrow; the moment the snake saw me it glided away, and the sparrow flew off with its usual mode of flight."[173]
This anecdote brings out another by Mr John Henry Belfrage, of Muswell Hill:—"When proceeding down the avenue here one morning, at a turn in the path I saw a robin, which appeared to me spell-bound, so much so as to allow a much closer approach than is usual even with that boldest of the feathered tribe. On going nearer I perceived what I took to be the cause, in a large common snake, which was lying coiled up on one side of the path, with its head a little raised. My appearance broke thespell, and the robin flew away; at the same time, the snake dropped its head and assumed a perfectly inert appearance."[174]
A writer in theJournal of the Indian Archipelagothus reports the mesmeric faculty exercised upon a certainly somewhat unlikely subject:—"On approaching an almost dry drain, I saw a snake slowly extending his coils, raising his head, and steadfastly gazing on what I saw to be an eel of about a foot in length. The eel was directly opposite to the snake, and glance seemed to meet glance, when the snake, having the requisite proximity, darted on the eel and caught it about an inch behind the head, and carried it off; but the captor was soon himself a captive, for with a blow on his head I secured both."[175]
The mystery is, as usual in such cases, attempted to be explained away. Man does not like mystery; scientific man least of all: it is humbling to the pride of science to be obliged to confess that there exists anything unaccountable to the initiated. Mr W. C. L. Martin thus "explains" the statements of Dr A. Smith, and all such accounts:—"There is nothing mysterious in all this; the snake does notmesmeriseits prey, but merely so terrifies it as to stupify it; besides, the victim may feel an impulse similar to that which urges many nervous persons on the edge of a precipice, or top of a lofty tower, to throw themselves down headlong, and which we have heard such describe as resisted with difficulty; so may thepanic-struck bird feel an impulse to rush into danger which it might escape by flight."[176]
And again:—"Fear, amounting to panic, solicitude for its young, and efforts to drive away the dreaded intruder, leading the bird to venture too closely to the snake for its own safety, produce the results erroneously attributed to the Reptile's fancied power of fascination by its glance, or by some mystic property."[177]
Dr Barton, of Philadelphia, who, at the close of the last century, published a memoir on the fascinating powers attributed to certain serpents, advocated the same views. He considered that in almost every instance the supposed power was exerted on birds at the particular season of nidification, and that the whole hypothesis originated in theστοργηwhich prompts them to protect their eggs or young. No doubtsomeof the instances which have been reported as examples of fascination are capable of such an explanation, but surely not all; and the fallacy, here again, as in so many parallel cases, lies in the advocating of some theory which will cover a certain number of the facts, and the ignoring of all such as will not be so accounted for. Is it to be supposed that Dr A. Smith could not distinguish between the condition of involuntary paralysis of the faculties which he says he hasoftenseen, and the insane boldness of nesting birds? Had the mice, seen by Mr Pullen, had the frog, young ones to protect? Or the squirrel mentioned by Kalm? or the mouse seen by Le Vaillant? or the eel in the drain? But what is the valueof a hypothesis,—so far as its claims to solve this question are concerned,—which will not touch these cases? When Mr Martin denies that there is anything mysterious in the matter, and in the same sentence admits that "the victim may feel an impulse to rush into the danger which it might escape," he just yields the whole point. I venture to affirm that thisissomething mysterious, something totally unaccountable. I askwhat, andwhence, andwhy, this strange impulse that overcomes the first of all instincts, the prime law of self-preservation?
It does not explain the cause of the phenomenon, though it possibly helps us to determine its proper seat, to learn that fascination belongs to other animals besides the serpent tribes. We shall perhaps not err if we conclude that the peculiarity resides not in the object, but in the subject; that it is a mental emotion capable of being excited by objects having little in common except the death-terror which they excite. I have no doubt that it is a phase of extreme terror; the singularity of the phenomenon consists in the reversal of ordinary instinctive laws which it induces. My readers will probably be interested in the details of some cases in which the exciters of the emotion were animals other than serpents. Here is one, apparently related with care and truthfulness, though anonymous, in which the fascinator was as unlikely as can be well imagined to excite, and the fascinatee to feel, the emotion:—
"One evening, being seated in a room at Garrackpore, the window of which was open, and the ceiling on one sidesloped downwards towards the window, my attention was attracted by a butterfly which chanced to fly into the room. I observed its motions for a minute or two, when I thought there was something that appeared unnatural in them, and the insect began to dart to and fro in one direction, occasionally, however, varying its flight about the room. I looked up to see what it could possibly be at, and instantly observed an ordinary-sized lizard on the cloth of the upper ceiling. I had not even then the most distant idea of what was really going on; but seeing the butterfly dart every now and then at the lizard, I supposed it in play, till its motions became less quick and animated. The lizard remained all this time immovable, but at last suddenly shifted its ground to the sloping part of the ceiling. The motions of the butterfly became still more languid, until at length, to my utter surprise, I saw the lizard open its mouth, and the butterfly flew directly into it. The lizard was about half a minute swallowing it, wings and all. Until the last act of this curious scene, though I well knew the lizard's object, I supposed it would probably make a leap at the butterfly, yet had no idea of its succeeding, and expected to see the butterfly fly away. Had I had an idea of the cause, I should have broken the charm.
"From that moment I never had the least doubt of the power of fascination: that power I conceive to beterror, which, if the object was sufficiently terrible, I believe would act equally on man or any other creature."[178]
Still more strange is it to hear of scorpions fascinatingblue-bottle flies! "On my arrival" says Mr Robert Hunter, "at Nágpur, in Central India, in 1847, I requested that the first scorpion found in the house might be allowed to live for a few minutes, that I might have an opportunity of observing its form and movements. In that part of India one has rarely to wait long for such a visitant, and on an early evening my colleague, the Rev. Mr Hislop, announced that there was a scorpion on the wall. A lamp was set down on the floor, and we took convenient stations for noting what might pass. Just then a large fly, of the genus Musca, made its appearance, and soon became aware of the presence of the scorpion. A strong fury seemed to seize it, irresistibly impelling it to an insane attack on the terrible occupant of the wall: it flew at it with all the little force it could muster, the scorpion meanwhile stretching out its lobster-like claw to catch it as it came. At the first charge, the fly rebounded from the crustaceous integument of its adversary, having done no more damage than if a child were to apply its hand to the well-mailed body of a cuirassier. It seemed amazed at its own audacity; and in a state of great apparent agitation wheeled round, and taking precipitately to flight, soon put two or three yards of safe space between itself and its formidable but wingless foe. We now forcibly hoped 'the better part of valour' might be allowed to prevail. But no! the tiny creature stood—it ventured to look—there glared still in view the malignant form. What could the poor animal do but make a second brilliant onset, in which it again eludedthe outstretched claw of its enemy, and, as before, was successful in effecting a retreat? 'Surely,' we mused, 'no further knight-errantry will be attempted: the most exacting would consider this enough.' But we were mistaken. Again and again did the fly return to the combat, till in an unguarded moment it flew exactly into the open claw, which closing, rendered escape impossible. The generosity of a Mouravieff was scarcely to be looked for in the scorpion, which, as will be readily believed, lost no time in devouring its gallant captive. Possibly the fly may have been partly dazzled by the glare of the lamp. But undoubtedly it was in the main fascination, induced by the sight of the dread figure on the wall, that impelled it to begin the unequal contest, which could terminate only in the loss of its life."[179]
After these cases, I fear my readers would see but little of the romantic in stories of stoats mesmerising hares and rabbits, or foxes paralysing pullets. The former are common enough,—the wretched hare creeping along with a bewildered look, as if its back were broken, or screaming in helpless immobility. I will confine myself to a single narrative furnished by Mr Henry Bond, to whom this chapter is already indebted for one case. As he was walking on the hillside above West Creech Farm, in Penbeck, Somerset, last August, where the down is scattered with very low furze-bushes, his attention was arrested by a cry of distress. It proceeded from a rabbit which was cantering round in a ring, with a halting gait.He watched it for some minutes; but, as the circle became smaller, and the rabbit more agitated, he perceived a stoat turning its head with the rabbit's motion, and fixing its gaze upon it. He struck a blow at the stoat, but missed it; its attention was thus withdrawn from its intended victim, which instantly ran away with great vigour in a straight direction.[180]
This is a remarkably good case; the circular movement of the rabbit; the ever-diminishing circle; the rotation of the stoat; the fixity of its gaze; the liberation of the rabbit the moment the stoat was disturbed; and the instant recovery of its faculties on the breaking of the spell;—all these are circumstances of the highest interest in a case avouched by so good a naturalist as Mr Bond.
Mr J. H. Gurney reports the account of a respectable gamekeeper, who, being much annoyed by the nightly visits of a fox to the poultry, could not imagine how Reynard managed to effect his purpose, as they roosted on a large spreading oak. One morning, however, just as day was dawning, he heard a great noise among the poultry, and, looking out of the window, saw a fox running round and round under the place where they sat, and soon observed that the fowls began to fall from the tree in great confusion. The fox immediately seized his victim, and the mystery was so far solved. A day or two afterwards the fox, a very large male, was killed in an adjoining paddock, and no further assaults were made upon the poultry.
In this case the result was possibly effected by vertigo; the birds, bewildered and amazed in the dim light, followed with their eyes the course of the sly depredator, as he ran swiftly in a circle beneath, until the frequent turning of their heads made them giddy and unable to keep their balance.But how did the fox know that such a result would follow?
The same gentleman gives, from his own observation, a case that is more to the point. Here a bird is the mesmeric practitioner. "I once saw a golden eagle which appeared entirely to fascinate a rabbit that was put into the large cage in which the eagle was kept. As soon as the rabbit was introduced, the eagle fixed his eye upon it, and the rabbit intently returned the gaze, and began going round the eagle in circles, approaching nearer each time, the eagle meanwhile turning on his axis (as it were) on the block of wood upon which he was seated, and keeping his eye fixed upon that of the rabbit.
"When the rabbit had approached very near to the bottom of the eagle's perch, it stood up on its hind legs, and looked the eagle in the face; the eagle then made his pounce, which appeared at once to break the charm, and the rabbit ran for its life, but it was too late for it to escape the clutch of the eagle, and the instant death which followed that tremendous squeeze."[181]
I am not sure how far a parallelism exists between this animal fascination by the eye, and that attraction whichfire is well known to possess for many creatures. Shelley sings of
"The desire of the moth for the star,"
"The desire of the moth for the star,"
as if it were a romantic passion for that which is bright and beautiful. This is, of course, a poet's aspect; the insect-collector, who wants to fill his cabinet—"my friend the weaver," who nightly pursues his "untaxed and undisputed game"—well knows that the glare of his bull's-eye lamp will attract the moths by thousands on a damp night in June. The little flitting atoms pass and repass across the field of light, suddenly flashing into full radiance, and in an instant relapsing into the darkness, unless his gauze net is too rapid for them. I have often sat reading late at night with a candle in the window, and observed with interest how many insects of all orders will soon congregate on the outside; now and then some large moth coming up with a dullthud, or a great mailed beetle dashing against the glass with a crash that makes one look sharply up to see whether he has not cracked the pane. In Jamaica I have taken many valuable beetles and other insects around the candle-shades at an open window, which were not met with in any other way.
So in Alabama, where it is customary in balmy autumn evenings for the family to sit in the yard under the broad sheltering trees, by the flickering light of the yard-fire. This fire is lighted at dusk on an iron tripod breast-high, and kept up till bed-time. It is the duty of a negro urchin to keep it constantly bright with splints of pine, so as to maintain a perpetual blaze, as the object is toilluminate the yard and its contiguous offices. The little "nigger" nods, of course, but the loud scolding voice of master, mistress, or overseer, or any one else, rates him, and rouses him to duty, as soon as the flame falls. It is pleasant to sit and watch the effect of the light, either transmitted through or reflected from the quivering leaves of the surrounding trees, the blaze now rising brightly and playing in tongue-like flickering spires, now sinking and dying to a ruddy glow, then suddenly reviving under the frightened watchfulness of the sable minister, who plays the part of vestal virgin at this altar.
Large insects often play around this fire. Beetles "wheel their drony flight" in buzzing circles round for a few turns, and are gone; and moths come fluttering about, and often scorch their plumy wings. I have taken some very fine Sphinges and other moths thus; and the only specimen I ever saw of that very curious insect the Mole-cricket alive (a species distinct from, but very closely allied to, our European insect) was one that suddenly dashed into the ashes of the light-stand—a curious and interesting circumstance, when connected with the opinion that I have before alluded to, that theGryllotalpa Europæais one of the producers of theIgnis fatuus.
Birds also are attracted by light at night. I have read of a Titmouse that was seen fluttering around a gas-lamp in the suburbs of London, and would not be driven away; it at length made its entrance into the lamp through the orifice at the bottom, and continued to flit around and across the jet. In 1832, a Herring-gull struck one of themullions of the Bell Rock Light-house with such force, that two of the polished plates of glass, measuring about two feet square, and a quarter of an inch in thickness, were shivered to pieces, and scattered over the floor in a thousand atoms, to the great alarm of the keeper on watch, and the other inmates of the house, who rushed instantly to the light-room. The gull was found to measure five feet between the tips of the wings. In his gullet was a large herring, and in his throat a piece of plate-glass of about one inch in length.
Dr Livingstone gives some curious examples of the attractive power of fire over various creatures in South Africa, which he attributes to a sort of fascination. "Fire," he says, "exercises a fascinating effect on some kinds of toads. They may be seen rushing into it on the evenings without ever starting back on feeling pain. Contact with the hot embers rather increases the energy with which they strive to gain the hottest parts, and they never cease their struggles for the centre, even when their juices are coagulating and their limbs stiffening in the roasting heat. Various insects also are thus fascinated; but the scorpions may be seen coming away from the fire in fierce disgust, and they are so irritated as to inflict at that time their most painful stings."[182]
From the day when the solemn doom was pronounced,—"I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed," the serpent-form has begotten revulsion and dread in the human breast. And deservedly; for a venomous serpent is a terrible enemy: the direful venom of sin injected by "that old serpent, the Devil," is well symbolised by the most potent of all lethic agencies,—the poison of the rattlesnake or the cobra.
And yet in all ages there have been persons in the countries where the most venomous snakes abound, who have professed, and have been believed to enjoy, an absolute immunity from their bites, and even to exercise some inexplicable power over them, whereby their rage is soothed, and they are rendered for the time gentle and harmless. The Holy Scriptures repeatedly allude to this ancient art. The Magicians of Egypt, who turned their rods into serpents, are supposed to have had recourse to a secret known, it is said, to the modern conjurors of the same country, who, by pressing the nape of the neck of the cobra with their fingers, throw it into a sort of catalepsy, by which its whole body becomes rigid like a rod, and from which it is relieved by suddenly throwing it on the ground.Aaron's rod was a veritable rod before and after the transaction, but changed into a serpent by Divine miraculous energy: theirs were serpents made to assume the appearance of rods for the moment by a cunning device.
Other and more direct allusions, however, occur to the art of serpent-charming. Thus the obduracy of the wicked is compared to "the deaf adder that stoppeth her ear; which will not hearken to the voice of charmers, charming never so wisely."[183]And the Aseverity of the Chaldean invaders is depicted under this imagery:—"Behold, I will send serpents, cockatrices, among you, which will not be charmed, and they shall bite you, saith theLord."[184]
Among the ancient Romans the Psylli, a people of Africa, and the Marsi, a German tribe who had settled in Italy, were reputed to have the power of charming serpents, and to be endowed with immunity from the results of their venom. Celsus, however, maintains that this power consisted in an acquaintance with the fact, now well known, that animal poisons are hurtful only when mingled with the blood. They may therefore be taken into the mouth with perfect impunity. With reference to so great an authority, however, there is more in the art and mystery of serpent-charming than this.
When Lucian describes the Babylonian magician as walking abroad, and calling to him all the serpents that were near, with certain ceremonies, such as the utterance of sacred words from an ancient book, lustrations madewith sulphur and a torch, and solemn marchings in a circle, and when he asserts that the venomous reptiles,nolentes volentes, presented themselves harmless at his feet,—he describes a scene which is sufficiently familiar to European travellers in Egypt and India. And so, when Silius Italicus speaks of Atyr, instructed how to disarm serpents of their dire venom, and to lull to sleep the terrible water-snakes with his magic touch, he refers, whether truly or falsely, to something of a more potent character than the feat by which Queen Philippa saved the life of her royal husband.
Immunity from the poison of serpents, and serpent-charming, are two things. The former, so far as it depends on the natural law already mentioned, scarcely comes within the province of this work. But is there not an innate immunity residing in some persons, and even in some peoples, by which, without the operation of any recognised natural law, or even any effort, they are securely protected either against the bites of venomous serpents, or, at least, against the fatality which is the ordinary result of being bitten?
The Psylli, according to Pliny, were so characteristically endowed with this immunity, that they made it a test of the legitimacy of their children; for they were accustomed to expose their new-born babes (only in doubtful cases, we may suppose) to the most venomous serpents they could find; assured that if their paternity was pure Psyllic, they would be quite unharmed. Of this tribe was the ambassador Hexagon, who, boasting of his powerbefore the Roman consuls, submitted to the crucial test which they suggested, of being inclosed in a vessel swarming with poisonous reptiles, which, says the legendary story, hurt him not.
The same historian tells us that the Psylli, who formerly inhabited the vicinity of the Greater Syrtis,—that is, the modern Tripoli and Barca,—were conquered and almost exterminated by the Nasamones, who possessed their land; but that a remnant fled to some distant region. It is not improbable that the present inhabitants of Sennaar, on the south of Egypt, may be the lineal descendants of these same Psylli; for, since Egypt was densely peopled and highly cultivated, a barbarous tribe could scarcely have made good their footing there; and as on the other side was the Great Desert of the Sâhra, and on the north the sea, there was no resource open to them but to creep along the desert edge of Egypt till they found a thinly-inhabited land sufficiently savage to enable them to form a settlement. The first region of this character that they could possibly find would be Nubia; and there it is most interesting to know that there exists a people at the present time, pretending to the same powers as the old Psylli. Bruce, whose testimony, at first much impugned, has come to be received with confidence, avouches that all the black people in the kingdom of Sennaar, whether Funge or Nuba, are perfectly armed against the bite of either scorpion or viper. They take theCerastes—a little asp with two horns, of the most deadly venom—into their hands at all times, put them into theirbosoms, and throw them at one another as children do balls, without ever irritating them by this usage so much as to make them bite. One day when the traveller was sitting with the brother of the prime minister of Sennaar, a slave of his brought aCerastes, which he had just taken out of a hole, and was using with every sort of familiarity. Bruce expressed his suspicion that the teeth had been drawn, but was assured that they were not, both by the slave and by his master, who, taking the viper from him, wound it round his arm, and at the traveller's desire, ordered the servant to accompany him with it to his residence. Here Bruce, to test the power of the serpent, took a chicken by the neck, and made it flutter; the seeming indifference of the snake immediately gave place to eagerness, and he bit the fowl with great signs of anger, which died almost immediately. Bruce considers that the indifference was only seeming towards the man,—that it was indeed powerlessness, for he constantly observed that, however lively the snake was before, yet upon being seized by any of the blacks, it seemed as if taken with sudden sickness and feebleness, frequently shut its eyes, and never turned its mouth towards the arm of the person who held it.
How exactly this account agrees with the words of Silius,