Cleland's Snakes
In 1831, in an effort to
test the long held belief that Irish soil is deadly to snakes, James Cleland
purchased some snakes and released them into the garden of his County Down home
[1]. Cleland chose not to tell his neighbours about his experiment, so panic
ensued when snakes were found near the final resting place of St. Patrick.
At least, that’s the story.
We know Cleland had snakes. On
7 December 1831, he donated two “English Snakes” to the Belfast Natural History
Society. However, I cannot find an 1831 paper that reported on the finding of
snakes in County Down - or the hysteria. These reports came much later.
The following is from the Northern
Whig of 22 November 1922.
Why are there no snakes in
Ireland? I do not recollect having ever seen any explanation, either by the
Editor of our own Nature Notes or anybody else, and, with all due deference to
St. Patrick, I cannot think he was the reason. Some people, of course, believe
that snakes cannot live on Irish soil, and as far back as 1831 Mr. James
Cleland, of Rathgael, determined to try the experiment. He bought half a dozen
of the common English snake in Covent Garden, and turned them out in his garden
at Rathgael, which, as everybody ought to know, is on the direct
Bangor-Newtownards road. A week afterwards one of them was killed at Milecross,
about three miles distant. The person into whose hands this strange monster
fell had not the slightest suspicion it was a snake, but, considering it a
curious kind of eel, they took it to Dr. J. L. Drummond, our own celebrated
Irish naturalist, who at once pronounced the animal to be a reptile and not a
fish.
The idea of a “rale living
sarpint” having been killed within a short distance of the very burial-place of
St. Patrick caused an extraordinary sensation of alarm among the country
people. The most absurd rumours were freely circulated, and credited. One
far-seeing clergyman preached a sermon, in which he cited this unfortunate
snake as a token of the immediate commencement of the millennium; while another
saw in it a type of the approach of the cholera morbus. Old prophecies were
raked up, and all parties and sects, for once, united in believing that the
snake foreshadowed “the beginning of the end,” though they very widely differed
as to what the end was to be.
Some more practically-minded
persons, however, subscribed a considerable sum of money, which they offered in
rewards for the destruction of any other snakes that might be found in the
district. And three more of the snakes were not long afterwards killed, within
a few miles of the garden where they were liberated. The remaining two snakes
were never clearly accounted for; but no doubt they also fell victims to the
reward. No one who did not live in that part of the country at the time can
imagine the wild rumours, among the more illiterate classes, on the appearance
of those snakes; and the bitter feelings of angry indignation expressed by
educated persons against the – very fortunately then unknown – person who had
dared bring them to Ireland.
As always, I’m happy to hear
from anyone who can add to this story.
HAPPY PADDY’S DAY!
Notes:
1. Cleland wasn’t the first
to try this. Giraldus Cambrensis, writing at the end of the 12th
century, recorded that these experiments had been going on for centuries.
Sources:
- Belfast News-Letter, 9
December 1831
- Northern Whig, 22 November
1922
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