Reptiles cannot live in Ireland
Thus far as regards Ireland’s freedom from venomous reptiles.
But the marvel did not end here. If it did indeed there would not be much to wonder at—according to Giraldus; for as he remarks, it is only natural to expect some countries to be free from certain sorts of animals that are produced abundantly in others.
Moreover Giraldus does not believe the story told of St. Patrick, and accounts for the absence of reptiles by the nature of the soil.
But another thing there was which, as he remarks, was really wonderful—namely, that no venomous creature could live in Ireland; and those that were brought from other countries died as soon as they touched the Irish shores.
He relates that serpents which certain merchants brought over with them from England in their ships, for the sake of trial, did not wait for their arrival on our coast, but died off as soon as they had got the first sniff of the breeze from the Fair Hills of Holy Ireland, half way across the Irish Sea.
Even poison, which was deadly enough so long as it was kept abroad, quite lost its venom as soon as it had got into the pure air of Ireland.
And if any one in a foreign country had a garden infested with noxious creatures, he had only to send over for a few handfuls of Irish earth and sprinkle it thinly over the surface, when the reptiles at once retreated with speed and left his garden free for ever after—betaking themselves of course to his neighbour’s premises.
Giraldus quotes the Venerable Bede on the same subject; and when we turn to Bede, there sure enough we find very decided testimony to the same effect, with additional circumstances of a still more marvellous kind—showing how widely, even among wise and learned men, the belief prevailed at that early age, and how firmly it had taken hold of people’s minds.
The following are Bede’s words:—
“No reptiles are found there [in Ireland] and no snake can live there; for though often carried thither out of Britain, as soon as the ship comes near the shore and the scent of the air reaches them they die. On the other hand almost all things in the island are good against poison. Indeed it has come to our knowledge that when certain persons had been bitten by serpents, the scrapings of the leaves of books brought out of Ireland were put into water and given them to drink, which immediately expelled the spreading poison and cured the swelling.”[6]
Several other instances are given by Giraldus, some of which are so amusing that I will quote them:—A thong of leather made from the hide of an Irish animal was on one occasion placed on soft ground in the form of a complete circle, and a toad was put in the middle.
“I and several other persons (says Giraldus) saw with our eyes that when he touched the thong trying to get out he fell back as if he were stunned. Next he tried the other side, but did not so much as touch it this time, but drew back his nose when he came near the thong as if it were poison. At last he dug a hole in the mud with his feet in the centre of the circle, and buried himself safely in it.”
“Certain merchants [7] affirm that when they had unladen their ships in Ireland they found by hap some toads under their balast; and they had no sooner cast them on the shore than they (the toads) would puff and swell immeasurably, and shortly after, turning up their bellies, they would burst in sunder.”
Notes
[6] Eccl. Hist., Book i., chap. i. (Bohn).
[7] In this and the next story I use Richard Stanyhurst’s rich and racy translation of Giraldus’s words in preference to any other.