Thus we see that the ideal snake was a religious principle, carried out in illustrations and architectural embellishments, where ‘that old serpent the devil’ was depicted as a creature as terrible as imagination could conceive it; and of course with a highly-developed tongue in the form of a dart or a spear, more or less alarming.
Far in advance of Topsell, and far in advance of England, were the naturalists of Southern Europe. Gesner, professor of philosophy at Zurich, published his Historia Animalium in 1551; and Aldrovanus, professor of philosophy and physic at Bologna, wrote thirteen folio volumes of natural history, four only of which were published during his lifetime, and the rest after his death, which was in 1605. These two authors, though out of date at the present day, have left their names perpetuated in plants and animals examined by them.
As one of the objects of this work is to trace the origin of some of the many errors that have obtained regarding the serpent race, and to note the gradual enlightenment observable in successive writers, it is a part of our duty to quote the Bible; and this we do with reverence, emboldened by the fact that the present state of knowledge has demanded a new translation to satisfy the intellect of the age.
Shakspeare himself might have had the Bible devoutly in his mind when he talked of the adder’s ‘sting.’
Among the many commentators and exponents of Holy Writ, Cruden (A.D. 1794) says, ‘Some place the venom of the serpent in its gall, others in its tongue, and others in its teeth.’ David seems to place it in its tongue:—Ps. cxl. 3, ‘They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent.’ So also Job, xx. 16, ‘The viper’s tongue shall slay him.’
The sacred writers, however, quite understood that serpents did bite as well as ‘sting.’ Solomon made the same distinction that is observable in Shakspeare, ‘biteth like a serpent, stingeth like an adder.’
In fact, the tongue of an adder, whether in allusion to ‘the worm of the Nile,’ or to our own pretty little ‘deaf-adder,’ seems still to bear the evil character which it has borne from time immemorial.
Superstition, prejudice, and ignorance are still rampant whenever a snake is thought of. Inherited and educated antipathies regarding them are still so strong that some persons will not even allow themselves to unlearn their misconceptions; others by misrepresentations do their best to prevent a true comprehension of their habits from being better understood; and, again, there are those who know better, and who are even engaged in instructing others by their pen, but who fall into the habit of encouraging horror and hatred, instead of reason, truth, and a tolerance towards a creature wisely produced to fulfil its part and to perform its duties in the great balance of organized beings.
Some journalists religiously keep up the delusion about the tongue of a snake, by using a prejudicial prefix. From a pile of newspaper cuttings and other printed matter relative to snakes, I transcribe a few sentences at random, to illustrate what is meant:—‘Its horrid forked tongue.’ ‘Its slithering tongue.’ ‘Its villanous poisonous tongue,’ etc. And if sensationalism seem to demand still more forcible language, as, for instance, in describing an injury or an escape, our journalist tells us of the ‘forked tongue darting defiance.’ ‘The wicked-looking serpent tongue protruded with lightning-like swiftness.’ ‘To see the reptile run its devilish tongue out at you.’ ‘Its horrid lancinating tongue protruded,’ etc. These are only a few of such sentences copied verbatim, but they are unfortunately too common, even with the better-informed writers.
The idea of a snake being sufficiently intelligent, reasoning, and reflective to deliberately ‘run its tongue out at you,’ as if conscious of its own moral power and your moral weakness, is too ludicrous. If the snake could truly inflict injury with those soft, flexible, delicate filaments,—if it could, with one rapid touch, insert poison, as the tall talker at the Zoological Gardens affirmed, the threatening quiver could only be in friendly warning. Let the poor reptile at least be thanked for that.