Snakes: Curiosities and Wonders of Serpent Life

by Catherine Cooper Hopley

Several circumstances have combined to enrich ophiological literature within a few years; one which, in 1872, I quite think established a sort of new era in this branch of zoology, was the appearance of Dr. Fayrer’s magnificent work, The Thanatophidia of India. Mr. Bullen, then the Superintendent of the Reading-Room at the British Museum, knowing that the subject was engaging my attention, informed me of the arrival of this book, and, with his ever kind thought for students, ordered it into the room for my express use; and I think I may affirm, that I was the very first ‘reader’ who had the privilege of inspecting the work, and, I hope, of helping to make it popular. For as day after day those huge folio leaves stood open, with the conspicuous and lifelike illustrations almost moving before your eyes, readers would linger and gaze, acquaintances would stop to inquire and inspect; some with a shudder would ask ‘how on earth I could endure the sight of such fearful creatures?’ while a few would manifest sufficient interest and intelligence to be indulged with a full display, and to whom I eagerly aired my convictions of the tremendous errors afloat concerning the snake tribe.

‘Beyond the pale of science but little is known of Ophiology,’ were Fayrer’s words. Two years previously to this, in 1870, Dr. Edward Nicholson wrote his book, Indian Snakes, ‘in the hope of dispelling the lamentable ignorance regarding some of the most beautiful and harmless of God’s creatures.’

This enthusiasm is gradually spreading, and we now not unfrequently hear of domesticated snakes in English homes; both from friends who keep them, and from the correspondence of the Field, Land and Water, and similar papers, in whose columns inquiries for information are often made regarding ophidian pets. Lord Lilford, one of the kindest patrons of the London Reptilium, has, I believe, for many years been a practical ophiologist. There is one little favourite snake that figures in these pages of which his lordship gave an excellent character from personal acquaintance, ‘the beautiful species Elaphis-quater-radiatus, as being the most naturally tame of all the colubrines, never hissing or trying to bite though frequently handled.’ A noble lady not long since carried a pet snake to the Gardens. It was twined round her arm, where it remained quiet and content, though to the alarm of some monkeys who caught sight of it. Some members of our Royal Family, with the enlightened intelligence which displays itself in them all, have more than once paid visits to the Reptile House at the Zoological Gardens, where the keeper has enjoyed the high honour of taking snakes out of their cages to place in royal hands. The good-will and interest towards the inmates of the Ophidarium are likewise displayed by some country gentlemen in presents of game, in the form of ring snakes for the Ophiophagus and frogs for the lesser fry. Lord Arthur Russell, Lord Lilford, and other distinguished personages set excellent examples of this kind. All of which proofs of prejudices overcome are features in the history of ophiology, and especially in the last decade.

Then, in glancing at recent literature, a great change is discernible, more particularly so during the last two years, since the popular contributions of Dr. Arthur Stradling, a corresponding member of the Zoological Society, have imparted a novel interest to this branch of zoology. To this gentleman my own most grateful acknowledgments are due, as will be evident to the reader, not only for the zest imparted by his correspondence from Brazil, but for some important specimens presented to me by him, which have enabled me to describe them minutely from personal observations, as well as to add some original illustrations from them. Though my work and my studies were far advanced, previous to his valued acquaintance, yet I have been able to enrich my pages from his experience, and have added footnotes from his published writings.

Already, however, some few dispassionate students of nature among editors were promoters of herpetology, and I must here express my acknowledgments to the talented daughters of the lamented Mrs. Alfred Gatty (and editresses of that facile princeps among juvenile periodicals, Aunt Judy’s Magazine), for having been the first to encourage and accept from my pen a snake in their pages, and subsequently several papers on ophidian manners and habits for their magazine.

In preparing ‘Sketches of the Ophidians’ for the Dublin University Magazine, December 1875, and January and February 1876 (in all, about forty closely-written pages), I, by request of the editor, included a paper on the venom and the various remedies, though, reluctant to intrude within the arena of professional science, a sort of summing up of evidence was all that I attempted. Having been thus required to glean some crude ideas from technical writings (which necessitated glossaries and dictionaries to be ever at hand), I again add a chapter on the ‘Venoms’ to my present work. Left entirely to my own independent conclusions, if I have ventured to think in opposition to some popular writers, and have even presumed to offer some suggestions of my own, I trust I may be treated with clemency.

With regard to the terrible death-rate from snake-bite in India, it does, however, appear to me that journalists who hold up their hands in horror, and write strong articles on this subject, lose sight of the religious and social condition of the low-caste Hindûs, who are the chief sufferers, and whose superstition is so fatal to them. Snake-worship is the root of the evil! Education must lower the death-rate. During the visit of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales to India, the entire programme was on one occasion interrupted because some Hindû children, to whom a feast was to be given, could not eat in the presence of Christians, whose ‘shadow would have polluted their food,’ or some obstacle of this nature. Similar difficulties arise when they are snake-bitten; their creed prohibits their having recourse to approved remedies. ‘Snake-charmers’ and native quacks are sent for instead, and often when cures are possible the fatalists submit to death.

To Professor Owen, who six years ago permitted me the honour of dedicating this contemplated work to him, and to others who were then led to expect its early appearance, I may be allowed to offer an excuse for tardiness. Like the creatures which fill its pages, I succumb to the chills of winter, and depend on the suns of summer for renewed vigour and activity. At one time impaired health, and the enforced suspension of literary pursuits under the threatened loss of the use of my right hand, were grievous interruptions.

Filial duties and domestic bereavements caused another two years’ delay. Banished to the seaside, and the pen prohibited during the winter of 1874-75, I had almost despaired of turning my studies to account, when a new impulse arrived in the shape of a note from the editor of Chambers’s Journal, begging to know if my ‘work on the Ophidia was out, and by whom published’? My ‘work on the Ophidia’? Could that mean my poor, despised little book that had been long ago submitted among others to those Edinburgh publishers? My work on the Ophidia! I began to get better from that day; and from that date, March 1875, I have had the inexpressible pleasure and privilege of including among my kindest and most sympathetic ophiological friends, the Editor of that popular journal. On the Ophidia, he entrusted me with work in various directions, encouraged by which I again returned to town, and to the Zoological Gardens.

If I am so fortunate as to afford instruction or entertainment in the following pages, my readers will join me in congratulating ourselves on the possession of so large and valuable a zoological collection as that in the Regent’s Park, without which this book could not have been attempted. And I may embrace this opportunity of expressing my sincere thanks to the President and Council of the Zoological Society for the privileges and facilities afforded me at their Gardens, where not only the Reptilium but the annual series of zoological lectures there, given by the first biologists of the day, have been of inexpressible use to me.