Many of my readers will doubtless recollect that in a paper on “Animal
Taming,” which appeared some weeks back in the pages of this Journal, I
alluded slightly to the _charming_ of animals, or _taming_ them by spells
or drugs. It is now my purpose to enter more fully upon this subject,
and present my readers with a brief notice of what I have been able to
glean respecting it, as well from the published accounts of remarkable
travellers, as from oral descriptions received from personal friends
of my own, who had opportunities of being eye witnesses to many of the
practices to which I refer.
The most remarkable, and also the most ancient description of
animal-charming with which we are acquainted, is that which consists in
calling the venomous serpents from their holes, quelling their fury, and
allaying their irritation, by means of certain charms, amongst which
music stands forth in the most prominent position, though, whether it
really is worthy of the first place as an actual agent, or is only thus
put forward to cover that on which the true secret depends, is by no
means perfectly clear.
Even in scripture we find the practice of serpent-charming noticed,
and by no means as a novelty; in the 58th Psalm we are told that the
wicked are like the “deaf adder that stoppeth her ear, which hearkeneth
not unto the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely!” And in
the book of Jeremiah, chap. viii, the disobedient people are thus
threatened--“Behold, I will send serpents, cockatrices, among you, which
will not be _charmed_.” These are two very remarkable passages, and I
think we may, without going too far, set down as snake-charmers the
Egyptian magi who contended against Moses and Aaron before the court of
the proud and vacillating Pharaoh, striving to imitate by their juggling
tricks the wondrous miracles which Moses wrought by the immediate aid
of God himself. The feat of changing their sticks into serpents, for
instance, is one of every-day performance in India, which a friend of
mine has assured me he many times saw himself, and which has not been
satisfactorily explained by any one.
The serpent has long been an object of extreme veneration to the natives
of Hindostan, and has indeed, from the very earliest ages, been selected
by many nations as an object of worship; why, I cannot explain, unless
it originated in a superstitious perversion of the elevation of the
brazen serpent in the wilderness by Moses. In India the serpent is not,
however, altogether regarded as a deity--merely as a _demon_ or genius:
and the office usually supposed to be peculiar to these creatures is that
of _guardians_. This is perhaps one of the most widely spread notions
respecting the serpent that we are acquainted with. Herodotus mentions
the sacred serpents which guarded the citadel of Athens, and which he
states to have been fed monthly with cakes of honey; and adds, that
these serpents being sacred, were harmless, and would not hurt men. A
dragon was said to have guarded the golden fleece (or, as some think, a
_scaly serpent_), and protected the gardens of the Hesperides--a singular
coincidence, as it is of _gardens_ principally that the Indians conceive
the serpent to be the guardian.
Medea _charmed_ the dragon by the melody of her voice. Herodotus
mentions snakes being soothed by harmony; and Virgil, in the Æneid, says
(translated by Dryden),
“His wand and holy words the viper’s rage
And venom’d wound of serpents could assuage.”
Even our own island, although serpents do not exist in it--a blessing
for which, if we are to put faith in legendary lore, we have to thank St
Patrick--has numberless legends and tales of crocks of treasure at the
bottom of deep, deep lakes, or in dark and gloomy caves, in inaccessible
and rocky mountains, guarded by a fierce and wakeful snake, a sleepless
serpent, whose eyes are never closed, and who never for a second abated
of his watchful care of the treasure-crock, of which he had originally
been appointed guardian;[1] and, further, we are told how the daring and
inventive genius of the son of Erin has often found out a mode of putting
a “_comether_” on the “big sarpint, the villain,” and haply closing his
eyes in slumber, while he succeeded in possessing himself of the hoard
which by his cunning and bravery he had so fairly won; in other words,
_charming_ the snake and possessing himself of the spoil.
Having thus glanced at the antiquity and wide spread of serpent-charming,
I shall proceed to lay before you a short description of the mode in
which the spell is cast over the animals by the modern jugglers of Arabia
and India.
Of all the Indian serpents, next to the Cobra Minelle, the Cobra Capella,
or hooded snake (_Coluber Naja_), called in India the “Naig,” and also
“spectacle snake,” is the most venomous. It derives its names of _hooded_
and _spectacle_ snake from a fold of skin resembling a hood near the
head, which it possesses a power of enlarging or contracting at pleasure;
and in the centre of this hood are seen, when it is distended, black and
white markings, bearing no distant or fanciful likeness to a pair of
spectacles. The mode of charming, or, at all events, all that is to be
seen or understood by the spectators, consists in the juggler playing
upon a flute or fife near the hole which a snake has been seen to enter,
or which his employers have otherwise reason to suppose the reptile
inhabits. The serpent will presently put forth his head, a portion of his
body will shortly follow, and in a few minutes he will creep forth from
his retreat, and, approaching the musician, rear himself on his tail,
and by moving his head and neck up and down or from side to side, keep
tolerably accurate time to the tune with which his ears are ravished.
After having played for a short period, and apparently soothed the
reptile into a state of dreamy unconsciousness of all that is passing,
save only the harmony which delights him, the juggler will gradually
bring himself within grasp of the snake, and by a sudden snatch seize
him by the tail, and hold him out at arms’ length. On the cessation of
the music, and on finding himself thus roughly assailed, the reptile
becomes fearfully enraged, and exerts all his energies to turn upwards,
and bite the arm of his aggressor. His efforts are however fruitless;
while held in that position, he is utterly incapable of doing any injury;
and is, after having been held thus for a few minutes before the gaze
of the admiring crowd, dropped into a basket ready to receive him, and
laid aside until the juggler has leisure and privacy to complete the
subjugation which his wonder-working melody had begun.
When charmed serpents are exhibited dancing to the sound of music, the
spectators should not crowd too closely around the seat of the juggler,
for, no matter how well trained they may be, there is great danger
attending the cessation of the sweet sounds; and if from any cause the
flute or fife suddenly stops or is checked, it not unfrequently happens
that the snake will spring upon some one of the company, and bite him.
I think that it will not be amiss if I quote the description of Indian
snake-charming, furnished by a gentleman in the Honourable Company’s
civil service at Madras, to the writer, who vouches for its veracity:--
“One morning,” says he, “as I sat at breakfast, I heard a loud noise and
shouting among my palankeen bearers. On inquiry I learned that they had
seen a large hooded snake (or Cobra Capella), and were trying to kill
it. I immediately went out, and saw the snake climbing up a very high
green mound, whence it escaped into a hole in an old wall of an ancient
fortification. The men were armed with their sticks, which they always
carry in their hands, and had attempted in vain to kill the reptile,
which had eluded their pursuit, and in his hole he had coiled himself
up secure, while we could see his bright eyes shining. I had often
desired to ascertain the truth of the report as to the effect of music
upon snakes: I therefore inquired for a snake catcher. I was told there
was no person of the kind in the village, but, after a little inquiry I
heard there was one in a village distant three miles. I accordingly sent
for him, keeping a strict watch over the snake, which never attempted
to escape whilst we his enemies were in sight. About an hour elapsed,
when my messenger returned, bringing the snake catcher. This man wore no
covering on his head, nor any on his person, excepting a small piece of
cloth round his loins: he had in his hands two baskets, one containing
tame snakes, one empty: these and his musical pipe were the only things
he had with him. I made the snake catcher leave his two baskets on the
ground at some distance, while he ascended the mound with his pipe alone.
He began to play: at the sound of the music the snake came gradually and
slowly out of his hole. When he was entirely within reach, the snake
catcher seized him dexterously by the tail, and held him thus at arms’
length, whilst the enraged snake darted his head in all directions, but
in vain: thus suspended, he has not the power to round himself so as to
seize hold of his tormentor. He exhausted himself in vain exertions, when
the snake catcher descended the bank, dropped him into the empty basket,
and closed the lid: he then began to play, and after a short time raised
the lid of the basket, when the snake darted about wildly, and attempted
to escape; the lid was shut down again quickly, the music always playing.
This was repeated two or three times; and in a very short interval, the
lid being raised, the snake sat on his tail, opened his hood, and danced
quite as quietly as the tame snakes in the other basket, nor did he again
attempt to escape. This, having witnessed it with my own eyes, I can
assert as a fact.”
I particularly request the attention of my readers to the foregoing
account, as, from the circumstance of its having been furnished by an
eye-witness, and a man whose public station and known character were
sufficient to command belief in his veracity, it will prove serviceable
to me by and bye, when I shall endeavour to disprove the ridiculous
assertions of Abbé Dubois[2] and others, who hold that serpent-charming
is a mere imposition, and assert, certainly without a shade of warranty
for so doing, that the serpents are in these cases always previously
tamed, and deprived of their poison bags and fangs, when they are let
loose in certain situations for the purpose of being artfully caught
again, and represented as _wild_ snakes, subdued by the charms of their
pipe. I shall, however, say no more at present of Dubois, Denon, or
others who are sceptical on this subject, but shall leave the refutation
of their fanciful opinions to another opportunity--my present purpose
being the establishment of _facts_, ere I venture to advance a theory.
I shall therefore conclude my present paper, and in my next, besides
adducing many other important facts relative to serpent-charming, shall
endeavour to throw some light upon the real mode by which it is effected.