154 Appendices to the History

*ON OTHER INDIAN SERPENTS*

In the year of our salvation 1628, it was learned from the letters of the Jesuit Father Joseph Adeus that not far from Tuna Puma, in a certain forest, there lived a serpent nearly as thick as an ox, with a length proportionate to its bulk. Its diet consisted of tortoises and sleeping stags. Wherever it passed, it scorched the grass. Mules could smell the serpent from a distance and, despite any amount of prodding, refused to move forward. The same happened with dogs, which would break into a frantic retreat the moment they caught the scent of the snake's droppings. In that place, there were mounds of bones from the animals the serpent had devoured; these did not stink, but rather exhaled a sweet scent of musk.

The Indians call another serpent *Tzicatlinan*, or "mother of ants," because it lives in ant burrows and follows them at certain times of the year when they emerge. This snake is the most beautiful of all and is harmful to no one; it is about as thick as a pinky finger and two spans in length, marked with alternating transverse bands of white and red. The Indians use it for medical purposes, specifically to dissipate unnatural tumors by crushing the snake and applying it to the swelling.

A very small snake called the *Attaligatus* is found among the Indians, which does not exceed the thickness or length of a goose quill. A hundred or more of these serpents are always found together, and they are never separated from one another. They possess no venom; otherwise, they are so pernicious that if they happen upon a sleeping person, they cannot be pulled away by any skill until they have killed the man with repeated strikes from all sides and devoured him entirely.

I have chosen to add several remedies against serpent venom which exterminate these venomous beasts not through the natural order, but by a power above nature. First, dust collected from the floor around the tomb of Saint Remigius puts serpents to flight. Flodoard writes of a certain tenant of the Bishop of Reims' estate who lived in a muddy area by the river Vesle and was harassed by serpents in a marvelous fashion. This man scattered dust collected from the floor of the Church of Saint Remigius throughout his house, and after that, no serpent appeared. It has also been discovered that in all the churches of Saint Remigius, as well as in the surrounding courtyards and cemeteries, no serpent is ever found; moreover, if one is brought there, it cannot survive at all. Thus far Flodoard, as reported by the Jesuit Juan Eusebio Nieremberg.

Furthermore, the soil of Ireland is said to be fatal to serpents, following the miraculous blessing Ireland received from Saint Patrick, who drove out all venomous reptiles with his staff. Giraldus Cambrensis writes wonderful things about the staff with which Saint Patrick expelled the venomous creatures from the island. Saint Bernard also mentions this same staff in the *Life of Saint Malachy*. Thus, Giraldus relates—again as cited by Juan Eusebio—that among all types of reptiles, Ireland enjoys only those that are harmless; it lacks serpents, toads, frogs, scorpions, and dragons. It does have spiders, leeches, and lizards, but they are entirely harmless. Indeed, if venomous beasts are brought there from elsewhere, they perish immediately. We read in the ancient writings of the saints of that land that serpents were sometimes brought over in bronze pots for the sake of an experiment, but as soon as they crossed the midpoint of the Irish Sea, they were found dead. Furthermore, when merchants occasionally unloaded ships in Irish ports, they found toads accidentally brought in the bottom of the holds; when they threw them onto the land alive, they died instantly in the sight of everyone. It also happened in our own time, as Giraldus writes, in the northern reaches of England, that a young man could be freed by no remedy from a serpent that had entered his mouth while he was sleeping. When he had visited the shrines of the saints throughout England, finally, by wiser counsel