Illustrious naturalists who were authorities in their day—as, for instance, Linnæus and Cuvier—included slow-worms with serpents, the links between them being so close. They have also been included among the burrowing snakes, many of which have no better right to the name of Anguis. With the advance of herpetology more minute distinctions of classification occur, and anatomy now proves in the ‘brittle snake’ a stronger relationship to lizards than to serpents. It has eyelids, like the lizards; no palate teeth, non-extensible jaw-bones, and more consolidated head-bones; so that you never see the facial distortion in these lizard-snakes when feeding, that is so striking in the true ophidians. It has scales alike all round, and also a distinct neck and a vestige of sternum and pelvic bones whence formerly two pairs of legs proceeded. From an evolutionary point of view, therefore, it is even in advance of Anaconda, which has still its ‘spurs’ to get rid of.
Space need not here be occupied in a recapitulation of other features and the manners and habits of Anguis fragilis beyond what the subject in hand demands; and in connection with this our two anguine heroines will be found to display one other striking feature in common. For the rest, in Bell’s British Reptiles it is treated at length. In Wood’s Natural History, also, there is a long and minute account of the slow-worm, including details of a most interesting character, as being gathered from personal observations.
Anaconda, however, claims historical priority.
As a water snake it has already been partially described (p. 228), and some of its synonyms were given in explanation of its scientific name Eunectes, to trace its right to be included among the water snakes, and murinus, to show the nature of its food. Being a native of tropical America—which embraces many extensive countries and includes numerous tribes of the aboriginal inhabitants—this serpent is also known under numerous vernaculars, puzzling enough to the reader of travels who does not at first sight realize that the book in which he now reads of the Matatoro describes one region, and the volume in which he has read of the Sucariuba or of the Jacumama describes another, and that these are one and the same snake. The spelling and pronunciation of even the same word among adjacent tribes add to the perplexity. Among other of Anaconda’s familiar vernaculars, which we meet with in all South American books of travel, are Aboma, Cucuriù or Cucuriubù, El trago venado, Camoudi or Kamoudi, Sucurujù, and others. The name by which it is now generally known, Anaconda, or Anacondo, was fixed by Cuvier in 1817.
Very exaggerated ideas as to its size have obtained, probably traceable to Waterton, who tells us the Spaniards of the Oroonoque positively affirm that he grows to the length of from seventy to eighty feet; and that as his name Matatoro implies, he will eat the largest bull. Before yielding full faith to such stories, we must ascertain whether that ‘bull’ corresponded in dimensions with our Durham prize ox, or the miniature bovines of the Himalayas. Hartwig improves upon Anaconda’s dinner capacities in telling us that the ‘Hideous Reptile will engulph a horse and its rider, or a whole ox’ (prize ox, no doubt) ‘as far as its horns.’
Turn we to science and to ocular proof of what Anaconda really is—for there are and have been living examples in our zoological collections, and whatever she may have been ‘formerly,’ her modern dimensions rarely exceed thirty feet.
In the present case her interest lies in her maternal aspect, for it is the one that was brought to London in 1877 of which we now speak, and who astonished the ophiological public by giving birth to fully-developed young ones in April of that year.
In Land and Water of the preceding February, Mr. Frank Buckland described the arrival of this snake at Liverpool in a box, which with its occupant weighed over 2 cwt., and of the necessary examination ‘he’ (the snake) was obliged to undergo by Mr. Bartlette previous to purchase. Being at length conveyed to the Zoological Gardens, ‘he’ was reported as being thin and as having no inclination to feed, but glad to remain in ‘his’ bath almost continuously.
It was brought from the vicinity of the Amazons, and must have been cramped up for many months in this close prison. No wonder it turned at once into its native element, although the small tank restricted its movements almost as much as its travelling box. The poor thing was seen to be suffering discomfort, presumably from its long journey and close confinement; and one day, when endeavouring to extend itself and move more at ease in the narrow space between the tank and the front glass, it forced out the entire frame by the power of its coils. Fortunately the huge python and two other Anacondas in the same cage at the time were in a torpid condition; or had those four powerful snakes been lively or spiteful, and all at liberty at this crisis, grave results might have accrued. Aid being at hand, the loosened frame was promptly re-adjusted; but this practical illustration of Anaconda’s powers was a useful lesson to snake keepers.