Codrille

Variations: Cocadrille, Cocodrille, Coquadrille, Cocatris

The Codrille, Cocadrille, or Codrille is a variety of basilisk or dragon native to central France, notably Berry, Maine, Poitou, Sologne, and Vendée. It combines features of basilisks and vouivres but without the redeeming aspects of either.

The name of the codrille was derived from the same etymological confusion that spawned the “cockatrice”. Starting with Crocodylus, the crocodile, practically a mythical creature in its own right, the name became progressively more garbled, becoming Cocodrillus, Cocodrille, Cocadrille, and Codrille. However, de la Salle derives it from coco and drille, meaning “rooster’s child”.

Unlike true basilisks, codrilles can grow to impressive size, becoming leathery-winged dragons at the last stage of their life cycle. The “crown” characteristic of basilisks manifests in the form of a brilliant gem on top of the codrille’s head. Codrilles can kill merely by looking at their victims, and emit an aura of disease and plague.

A codrille’s life is a complicated succession of metamorphoses. It hatches from a yolkless egg laid by a rooster, and incubated by the heat of the sun or of manure. To prevent those eggs from hatching, one must plant sprigs of ash in potential codrille breeding grounds. This should be done on the first day of May. Having other roosters around also helps, as they will devour the offspring of a codrille.

The codrille starts out its life as a very long, string-like snake. It is capable of killing right out of the egg – anyone who cracks a codrille egg and is seen by the newborn codrille dies instantly, but if they see the snake first, it dies instead. After a while, the juvenile codrille sprouts legs and becomes a salamander. During this stage of its life it will still die if seen first by humans, so it hides in deep wells, ruined tombs, and the masonry of houses, bringing bad luck to everyone living there and whistling ominously at night. It can debilitate a bull merely by crawling under it.

At the end of seven years the codrille reaches the adult stages. It grows spectacularly, sprouts wings, and metamorphoses into an enormous dragon. It spreads its wings and migrates towards the Tower of Babylon, breathing death and pestilence along its way. Its passage in the air dims the sun, and epidemics and plagues follow in its wake.

References

Sainéan, L. (1921) L’histoire naturelle et les branches connexes dans l’oeuvre de Rabelais. E. Champion, Paris.

de la Salle, L. (1875) Croyances et légendes du centre de la France, Tome Premier. Chaix et Cie., Paris.

Sébillot, P. (1906) Le Folk-lore de France, Tome Troisième: La Faune et la Flore. Librairie Orientale et Américaine, Paris.

Fayette

The Fayettes (“little fairies”) live in the Forez region in France, today around the Loire basin. They are believed to be the descendants of the Greek nymphs, having escaped the advance of Christianity in the Mediterranean.

In France they are much tinier versions of their former selves, but their magical powers are undiminished. They guard the caves and forests, and can be seen dancing in the woods of Couroux, in the Beaujolais. Like any self-respecting fairy, they like to abduct children and leave insatiable changelings behind. Those fairy children are best brought to the mouth of a cave and threatened with violence, causing the fayette to return the stolen child. Te, vequio le tio, rends me le mio (“There, here’s yours, return mine”).

During the night, the fayettes do their laundry under the moon. Travellers in the woods are advised to sing at the top of their lungs to make sure they’re not mistaken for threats. At daybreak the fairies dissipate like fog, sometimes leaving behind solid gold washboards that would make anyone’s fortune.

During the day the fayettes take the form of moles, and take pleasure in ravaging gardens. This is why moles have pretty little pink hands.

References

Proth, M. (1868) Au Pays de l’Astrée. Librairie Internationale, Paris.

Sébillot, P. (1904) Le Folk-Lore de France, Tome Premier: Le Ciel et la Terre. Librairie Orientale et Américaine, Paris.

Dodo

Variations: Kadindi, Kaddodi, Kadda, Swallower-of-Men

The Dodo is a monstrous humanoid creature from the folklore of the Hausa people. He can be found lurking in the deep forests and swamps of sub-Saharan West Africa, with a range including Sudan, Ghana, Nigeria, and the Côte d’Ivoire. The dodo has nothing in common with the extinct flightless bird of the same name, and probably was derived from tales of giant snakes.

Not much is known about a dodo’s appearance. He – for the dodo is always male – is the King of Beasts, and can just as easily be the lion, the python, the elephant, or the rhinoceros. A dodo is humanoid in appearance and large in size, as he has to stoop to get through doors. He has long, shaggy black hair. He has a keen sense of smell, and can detect meat from far away. He has some degree of magic powers, but cannot cross running water (paradoxically, dodos also live in ponds and streams). Most importantly, the dodo has a vast mouth glowing red from the inside, a seemingly infinite stomach capacity, and a taste for human flesh. As one of the African “swallowing monsters”, a dodo can easily engulf an entire village.

A dodo is often a self-invited guest, eating more and more until there is nothing left. This is not always a bad thing. Once a miser and his son were preparing to butcher a freshly-slaughtered ox in the forest, far from prying eyes. They decided to cook it in a nearby fire – a fire which turned out to be a dodo’s glowing, cavernous mouth.

“Well well”, said the dodo. “Who has invited me?” The miser, hoping to placate him, said “I did!” and gave him a leg of beef, which the dodo put away in his bag. “Does a man invite a friend to a feast for such a small morsel?” said the dodo. In response, the miser gave him another leg. “Does a man invite a friend to a feast for such a small morsel?” The next two legs followed, then half the bull, then the remainder of the bull. “Does a man invite a friend to a feast for such a small morsel?” “But there is nothing left!” protested the man. “You are also meat”, came the response. Terrified, the miser shoved his son forward, and the dodo tossed him into his bag. Finally, he grabbed the miser himself. “What about you?” he said, throwing him into his bag as well. The dodo went to collect firewood, but in the meantime the father and son managed to cut their way out of the bag and made their escape. The dodo returned, shrugged, and got a meal of roast beef. The miser vowed he would never be greedy again, and devoted the rest of his life to sharing his food and wealth with others.

While dodos readily eat meat, they are also fond of taking human women as their wives, sometimes fathering repulsive half-dodo children with them. Dodos like to strike bargains with prospective spouses, promising to help them for the price of marriage; sometimes those “bargains” are more straightforward, consisting of “Would you like me to eat you or marry you?” Such unions are never happy, and the wife will always try to escape her captor.

One dodo story tells of a young woman, pregnant with her first child, drawing water from a stream. Another woman, jealous of her companion and looking to get her scolded, threw dirt in her pot before leaving. But as the pregnant woman tried to carry her water pot, a dodo came out of the water and helped her with her load. Before she could protest, he stated “If you give birth to a boy, he will be my friend. If your child is a girl, she will be my wife”. And with that, he disappeared back into the water.

The mother soon gave birth, and her jealous rival was prompt to report the news to the dodo. “She gave birth to a girl”, she announced, and the dodo was immensely pleased. He was content to wait over the years, until the girl had become a woman as beautiful as her mother. On the day of the girl’s wedding, the jealous woman once more reported the news to the dodo, and he decided to show up uninvited.

“Kadindi has arrived”, he boomed, as everyone stared at him. “I have come to collect the payment I am due”. The daughter was obviously unhappy about marrying the monster, so instead her father gave the dodo a horse, part of the bride’s dowry. “Here is the payment for your debt”, he said, and the dodo swallowed the horse. But that was not enough. Next he ate all of the cattle, all of the wedding feast, all of the guests, and finally the father and mother. There was only the daughter left, and in desperation she prayed to the heavens. “Dodo has come to demand payment”, she implored. In response to her prayer, a knife fell out of the sky, and it was promptly swallowed as well – killing the dodo, cutting open his belly, and causing all the livestock, food, guests, and parents to come out unharmed. The wedding went on as planned.

References

Tremearne, A. J. N. (1913) Hausa Superstitions and Customs. J. Bale and Sons and Danielsson, Ltd., London.

July 20, 2015

abookofcreatures

The Book of Imaginary Beings by Jorge Luis Borges is, without a doubt, one of the most important literary contributions to the art of the bestiary. Its litany of obscure creatures laid the groundwork for the modern encyclopedia of mythical beasts, and ensured its citation in hundreds of works to come.

Borges was more interested in making an artistic and creative statement than in writing an exhaustively researched academic paper. As such, his references can be murky, unclear, hard to find, and, in some cases, completely fictitious. Later works came to quote Borges without attempting to track down the veracity of his statements. As Hurley notes with chagrin, it is “simply impossible to ferret out all the originals”, and “some of [Borges’] “quotations” are almost certainly apocryphal, put-ons”. The creatures discussed here are in the latter category.

The A Bao A Qu is said to live in the Tower of Victory in Chitor. Its appearance is uncertain, but we know it has tentacles, can see with its whole body, glows blue, and has skin like that of a peach. It follows pilgrims climbing up the stairs of the tower, but can only reach the top if the climber is a blameless person who has achieved Nirvana. Otherwise, it moans with a sound like rustling silk and tumbles down the stairs to the base, where it waits for the next pilgrim.

This story was originally attributed to Captain Richard Francis Burton (el capitán Burton), in an unverifiable footnote to the Arabian Nights. The original English translation changed that to the fictitious treatise On Malay Witchcraft by one C. C. Iturvuru. Was that believed to sound more mysterious? Were editors were concerned that contemporary readers would not be familiar with Burton? At any rate, searching for this entirely fabricated monograph is futile. Good news! This one has actually been tracked down and proved to be real – albeit, under a different name. It’s the Yam Bhaya Akhoot.

The Peryton, Perytion, or Peritio has achieved even greater fame, stripped of any Borgesian references and included in less discerning bestiaries. This carnivorous monster is a hybrid of deer and bird, with dark green plumage (or blue in Ravenna). Its oddest feature is its shadow, which is human. This is because perytons are believe to be the souls of men that have died away from the blessings of the gods. Perytons seek out humans to kill, but each peryton can only kill one man – after doing so, a peryton’s shadow becomes its own, and it is at peace.

Perytons originated from Atlantis, decimated Scipio’s army, and were foretold to destroy Rome. Borges attributes this to manuscripts written by one Aaron-ben-Chaim from Fez. These manuscripts quoted a nameless Arab author, and all copies conveniently perished in the burning of the Library of Alexandria and the Dresden firebombing.

Are the A Bao a Qu and the Peryton any less real than the basilisk and the unicorn? Repeated countless times, with their origins behind them, they are just as credible as any other nonexistent creature. After all, as told in Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius, an imagined world can be just as legitimate as the real world. We just have to remember that they remain literary in-jokes born from Borges’ pen.

References

Borges, J. L. (1962) Ficciones. Grove Press, New York.

Borges, J. L.; trans. di Giovanni, N. T. (1969) The Book of Imaginary Beings. Clarke, Irwin, & Co., Toronto.

Borges, J. L. (1978) El Libro de los Seres Imaginarios. Emece Editores, Buenos Aires.

Borges, J. L.; trans. Hurley, A. (2005) The Book of Imaginary Beings. Viking.

Borges, J. L. (2009) Manual de Zoologia Fantastica. Fondo de Cultura Economica, Mexico.

Zhubieyu

Variations: Pearl-turtle

The Zhubieyu, or Pearl-turtle, can be found in the Li River and Yu Lake, near Vine Mountain. This unusual fish or reptile looked like a lung (or otherwise a piece of dried meat) with four eyes and six legs. It contains and spits out pearls, and its flesh tastes sweet and sour. Zhubieyus are considered a delicacy, and eating them protects from seasonal epidemics and furunculosis.

Guo Pu marveled at the lot of these “floating lungs… Embodying Heaven, Earth, and Man”, and found irony in the fact that their own usefulness doomed them.

They appear to be softshell turtles. Mathieu describes them as “red softshells” or “pearled softshells”.

References

Mathieu, R. (1983) Étude sur la mythologie et l’ethnologie de la Chine ancienne. Collège de France, Paris.

Strassberg, R. E. (2002) A Chinese Bestiary: Strange Creatures from the Guideways Through Mountains and Seas. University of California Press.

Stökkull

Variations: Stokkull, Stöckull; Blödkuhvalur, Blökuhvalur, Blodkuhvalur (Flap-Whale); Bloejuhvalur (Veiled Whale); Springhvalur (Springing Whale); Stökkfiskar (Jumping Fish); Sprettfiskur (Sprinting Fish); Léttir (Agile One); Léttur (Light One); Dettir (Falling One); Hrosshvalur (Horse-Whale, probably erroneously)

The Stökkull is probably the most feared of the Icelandic illhveli, or “evil whales”. While not the largest or the most well-armed of whales, it is remarkably powerful for its size, and is easily capable of pile-driving ships into a watery grave. In fact, its name is used rather indiscriminately for a number of other monstrous whales with similar behavior; Jon Gudmundsson combined it with the hrosshvalur.

Stökkull means “jumper”, or “leaper”, and this is an apt description of this whale’s habits. A stökkull has a rounded body, black above and white below, and is about 8 to 20 meters long. It has a reinforced battering-ram snout and an underslung lower jaw full of sharp teeth. Most notably, it has blinder-like flaps of skin covering its eyes.

These fleshy flaps earn the stökkull its alternate name of blödkuhvalur (“flap whale”). They prevent the stökkull from seeing ahead of it, and so in order to see it has to leap out of the water and look underneath the flaps. Some accounts instead specify that the stökkull can see underwater and is blinded when it breaches, but this is less likely. It is said that the stökkull’s depredations were once even worse than they are today, until Saint Brendan implored the Lord to intervene. God responded by causing the flaps of skin to grow over the stökkull’s eyes, hindering its capacity to do evil.

Blinded or not, stökkulls are still formidable foes. They leap out of the water, breaching so high that the land and mountains can be seen below them, and cover a distance of four waves with every leap. When in pursuit of a ship, a stökkull can leap a mile in pursuit. It will sink anything it sees floating by jumping onto it nose-first, pulverizing boats and breaking the backs of large whales.

To avoid attracting the attention of a stökkull, it must not be referred to by name, otherwise it is likely to notice your presence. Any of a number of euphemisms must be used when talking about the jumper, and that is the reason for its profusion of names.

If a stökkull is sighted in the distance, it must be distracted before it smashes its way into the boat. The easiest way to do this is to throw a buoy or empty barrel overboard; the stökkull will exhaust itself trying to sink the object. Even a hat thrown overboard will distract a stökkull, as fishermen on Eyjafirth discovered. Another method is to make for the direction of the sun. If the stökkull tries to see where the boat is going, the sun’s glare will interfere. Finally, if all else fails, suitably strong firepower is advised. One stökkull was shot before it could leap, and that so startled it that it swam away at full speed, trailing blood behind it.

The legend of the stökkull probably dates back to tall tales of flying fishes. It may be inspired by sperm whales, Risso’s dolphins, and killer whales to various extents. Today stökkull is used in Iceland to refer to a number of harmless dolphins and porpoises.

References

Davidsson, O. (1900) The Folk-lore of Icelandic Fishes. The Scottish Review, October, pp. 312-332.

Hermansson, H. (1924) Jon Gudmundsson and his Natural History of Iceland. Islandica, Cornell University Library, Ithaca.

Hlidberg, J. B. and Aegisson, S.; McQueen, F. J. M. and Kjartansson, R., trans. (2011) Meeting with Monsters. JPV utgafa, Reykjavik.

Malebête

Variations: Malbête, Malebàete, Malebeste (archaic), Bête d’Angles (Beast of Angles), Troussepoil

Visitors to the French town of Angles, in the Vendée, are drawn to the beautiful church of Notre-Dame-des-Anges (Our Lady of the Angels). There, at the top of the bell tower, stands a monstrous stone bear glaring down on the city. Those visitors would be well advised to steer clear of its line of sight.

Long ago, it is said that a terrible beast ravaged the countryside of Angles. It was in the form of a great black bear, with shaggy, matted fur, and it became known as the Malebête – the “Evilbeast” or “Illbeast”. This monster had a predilection for young maidens, glutting itself almost exclusively on women. After feeding it would then wash itself in the nearby river, causing its hair to clump and stick out and granting the river the name of Troussepoil (“Hair-Raiser”, more or less).

The depredations of this demonic creature led to increasing concern. The river was running red with blood, and the female population was dwindling. None dared approach it, as its strength was greater than any knight’s. As it was an incarnation of the Devil himself, it became clear that only a sufficiently holy man would be capable of defeating it. The abbots of Fontaines and Talmont both went to face the beast, only to scurry away in terror when it charged them. The Pope’s envoy fasted for two days before confronting the Malebête, but barely escaped with his life and swore never to return.

Was there any man holy enough to destroy the Malebête? The answer came in the form of Father Martin, an old monk from the Angles cloister who spent most of his time isolated in contemplation of God. Perhaps out of desperation, he was begged to do something about this.

Leaning on a walking stick, dressed only in his ecclesiastical robes, Father Martin walked out to where the Malebête awaited him. To everyone’s amazement, the beast lowered its gaze in front of the hermit. “Follow me”, he said simply, and the Malebête did – as did the entire population of Angles. They followed Father Martin all the way back to the church, where he told the Malebête to climb the bell tower. Once at the top, it froze in place, and turned to stone.

Despite the rejoicing over the Malebête’s defeat, there were still a few voices of dissent in the form of a few girls who taunted Father Martin. “Since when are you the Devil’s shepherd?” they sneered. Father Martin merely smiled and looked up at the Malebête. “Henceforth, you shall feed only on the beauty of the girls of Angles”, he stated. And instantly all the women present became ugly and ran home in shame.

Since then, the resourceful women of Angles have found ways of avoiding the Malebête’s hungry gaze, and sneak safely into the church via a back door. Today the Malebête’s primary sustenance comes through the tourist industry.

This tale was first told by Benjamin Fillon, a dubious character who seems to have created the story out of whole cloth, making it a neo-myth of sorts. For one thing, the statue of the Malebête is of pre-Christian origin, predating its own legend; it was originally in a seated position, and was mutilated into its current shape. The Malebête’s story is also a familiar one, echoing many others told of anthropophagous monsters slain by righteous men.

References

Chaigne, L. (1942) La Vendée. F. Lanore, Paris.

Dillange, M. (1983) Eglises et Abbayes Romanes En Vendée. Jeanne Laffitte, Marseille.

Dubourg-Noves, P. (1996) Notre-Dame d’Angles. in Vendée. Congrès Archéologique de France, 151e Session. Musée des Monuments Francais, Paris.

Le Quellec, J. (1988) Le légendaire du Sud-Vendée: organisation spatio-mythique. Etuderies 3-4.

Trébucq, S. (1912) La chanson populaire et la vie rurale des Pyrénées à la Vendée. Feret et fils, Bordeaux.

Eintykára

Variations: Tapezu’á, Honey Man

The Eintykára stingless bees, as told by the Chamacoco of Paraguay, are those that produce the golden honey. This honey can induce mild hallucinogenic effects, due to the presence of an ergot fungus on the plants the bees visit. But even more remarkable is their ability to swarm together and shapeshift into a man.

Eintykára hives have long, tubular wax entrances through which the bees enter and leave. An older single woman used to pass by such a hive every day, and its suggestive appearance made her mind wander. “Oh, what a beautiful eintykára hive!” she would say. “If only it were a handsome man who would make love to me…”

She continued to fantasize about the phallic hive, day in and day out. Eventually she started referring to it as her husband. “Ah, there is my husband again. He’s still there. If only he were a man, I would marry him on the spot”.

Finally, one night she was visited by a stranger. He was unlike any man she had seen – his skin was milky white, and his hair was as golden as honey. “Who are you?” she asked, stunned by his beauty. “I am Eintykára, the hive you desired and talked to for so long. I wish to take you as my wife, and support you and your people”.

And so it came to pass that the woman married Eintykára, and they had children together. He was unnaturally intelligent, and a diligent, tireless worker admired by the entire village. He never seemed to eat; instead, he would go into the forest, transform into a swarm of bees, and then reintegrate after collecting enough nectar. His “waste” was beeswax and eintykára honey, which he would distribute to all. That is why some of the Chamacoco are fair-skinned, for they are among his descendants.

Another eintykára was also known to have joined a Chamacoco village, but he and his adopted people were tragically killed in a raid by a neighboring tribe. They set fire to the houses, and though he tried to turn into an eintykára swarm and fly away, enough of his bees were incinerated to kill him.

References

Cañedo, J. A.; Belaieff, J.; Cordeu, E. J.; Frič, A. V.; Métraux, A.; and Pittini, R.; Wilbert, J. and Simoneau, K. eds. (1992) Folk Literature of the Chamacoco Indians. UCLA Latin American Center Publications, University of California, Los Angeles.

Bosch

Sometimes criminals face supernatural retribution for their crimes. In the Finistère region of Brittany, it is the victim that suffers instead. Crimes committed on board develop a life of their own and linger long after the guilty party has left the ship. Acts of greed summon evil spirits that populate the ship, bringing bad luck to the crew. In such cases humid straw must be burned to fumigate the ship. The demons can become small enough to hide in a thimble, so the smoke must reach every part of the ship. This must be performed before heading out to sea to avoid potential disaster.

In Audierne, committing a maritime theft actually guarantees good luck. The creature left behind is a Bosch, the physical manifestation of onboard theft. They have no clear appearance, and probably vary depending on the nature of the crime they embody. These wretched creatures come into existence after a theft occurs on a ship, and have a lifespan of a few months to a few years, at the end of which they weaken and disappear. During this time they hide in the bow of the ship and make life on board absolutely miserable. As long as a bosch is present, the nets will be empty, the wind will not blow, and bad luck will hound the crew.

Simply waiting for a bosch to die is therefore impractical. If a ship finds itself afflicted with a bosch, there are two ways to get rid of it. One is to steal an object from a “happy” ship, one whose crew is satisfied and whose catches are always plentiful. The ship should be moored near it, and during the following night the captain sneaks on board the other ship to steal some small object, usually a pair of oarlocks. The bosch will then go to other ship and become their problem.

If one does not wish to inflict the misery of a bosch on an innocent ship, the demon can be exorcised instead. The captain must steal a quantity of hay and hide it in the boat. At night he should set fire to the hay near the mizzenmast and yell “Devil on board!” The sailors, startled, will grab anything within reach and lash out randomly, beating every corner of the ship. Surrounded and beaten, faced with choking smoke and scorching flames, the terrified bosch dives into the sea.

References

van Hageland, A. (1973) La Mer Magique. Marabout, Paris.

Basilisk

Variations: Cockatrice, Basilisco, Basiliscos, Basiliscus, Basili-coc, Basilicok, Regulus (Small Prince), Codrille, Cocodrille, Cocadrille, Coquatrix, Harmena, Sibilus (Hisser), King of Serpents, Crested Crowing Cobra (potentially)

The Basilisk, the “little king” or “king of snakes”, is best known as a creature whose looks kill. Its primary claim to fame is a gaze that instantly kills anyone who sees it, or even anyone it looks at. The basilisk has appeared under a number of guises throughout the centuries, but there are at least a few constants. It is always deceptively small. It is a snake, or at least part snake, with or without rooster characteristics. It always has a crown – whether a white mark, a ring of hornlets, a rooster’s comb, or even a literal crown on its head. And finally, it is always extraordinarily virulent.

The basilisk is first and foremost a snake, born from the blood of Medusa as were all venomous snakes. It is found in the North African deserts – its very presence causes the desert, and it becomes frantic in the presence of water. At half a foot long, it is far from the biggest snake, but it is the king of snakes, traveling proudly with its head off the ground. It has a white spot or a crown on its head, and white markings down its back.

The exact nature of the basilisk’s deadliness is uncertain, as it is known to kill via venom, odor, and gaze. Murrus, one of Lucan’s soldiers, transfixed a basilisk with his spear, only to see the venom travel up his weapon and start corroding his hand. He survived by amputating his arm before the venom could reach his body. A basilisk can spit its venom skyward, frizzling up birds in flight. Its very gaze is deadly, as it can kill a man merely by looking at him with its gleaming red eyes. The regal nature of the basilisk and its propensity for projecting its venom suggest that cobras or spitting cobras were the origin of the legend.

Basilisks feared only three things: weasels, the crowing of roosters, and their own lethal gaze. The weasel was the only animal immune to the basilisk’s gaze and venom, making it the only natural predator of the king of snakes. Weasels were often sent into caves believed to harbor basilisks. This interaction also recalls that of the cobra and the mongoose. Basilisks also convulsed and died instantly upon hearing the crowing of a rooster. Travelers in the Libyan desert would be well advised to bring a rooster along with them. Topsell denied the possibility of basilisks perishing upon seeing each other, as “it is unpossible that any thing should hurt itself”; nonetheless, a basilisk in Vienna was killed by showing it a mirror.

With the passing of time the nature of the basilisk grew more and more confused. Various Biblical serpents were translated as basilisks. The basilisk gained more avian characteristics, including an origin in rooster eggs, and was confused with Cocodrillus (the crocodile); both of them were dangerous reptiles with small adversaries (the weasel for the basilisk, the hydrus for the crocodile). Further garbling of “cocodrillus” resulted in “cockatrice”. Wycliffe’s Bible had “cockatrice” as a translation of “basilisk”. Chaucer referred to the “basilicok”. With the accumulation of translation, grammar, and etymological errors, the basilisk (or cockatrice) became a hybrid of snake and rooster, with clawed wings, a rooster’s head, and a long serpentine tail (sometimes with an additional head at the end). This is the familiar cockatrice (or basilisk) of bestiaries, and an incarnation of the Devil himself. It further evolved into the alchemical cockatrice, holding its tail in its mouth, symbolizing the alchemical cycle and its mixed nature. The same nomenclatural confusion also gave rise to the Codrille, a basilisk from central France.

Despite efforts to separate the basilisk and the cockatrice – for example, making the basilisk a snake or lizard and the cockatrice a snake-rooster hybrid, or making them both snake-rooster hybrids, one with a snake head and the other with a rooster head – the fact remains that the names basilisk and cockatrice are interchangeable, and refer to the same animal. It is best to accept T. H. White’s statement that the cockatrice is “a medieval muddle” and leave it at that.

Cardano reported a basilisk found in the ruins of a demolished building in Milan. This particular specimen was wingless and featherless, with an egg-sized head that looked too large for its body. It had viper fangs, a bulky lizard-like body similar to that of the stellion, and only two stubby legs with catlike claws. The tail was as long as the body, with a swelling at its tip the size of the head. When standing up, it looked like a leathery, naked rooster.

Aldrovandi was apparently inspired by this animal for one of his images of the basilisk, helpfully giving it six more legs. Based on the description and appearance, it appears to have been inspired somewhat by scorpions. Ironically, while this eight-legged depiction has proven particularly enduring, Aldrovandi himself was apparently doubtful of its authenticity, placing this presumed African creature just before a couple rays preserved in the shape of basilisks. The true, snake-like basilisk is given a full-page spread. Aldrovandi also produces a couple of purported basilisk eggs.

Flaubert, taking considerable creative liberties, describes the basilisk as a huge violet snake with a three-lobed crest and two teeth, one on each jaw. It speaks to Saint Anthony, warning him that “I drink fire. I am fire – and I breathe it in from mists, pebbles, dead trees, animal fur, the surface of swamps. My temperature sustains volcanos; I bring out the gleam of gems and the color of metals.”

Finally, Hichens’ “crowing crested cobra” of sub-Saharan Africa appears to be some kind of basilisk. It resembles a cobra, but with a crest on its head and the call of a rooster.

The life cycle of the basilisk is involved and complicated. The Egyptians believed it to be born from the egg of the ibis, while Neckham blames chickens. Basilisks are born from round shell-less eggs laid by old roosters in the summer (on a dungheap, in some accounts). Those eggs have to be incubated by a snake, a toad, or the rooster itself, eventually producing little terrors ready to kill at birth. As roosters may develop concretions that resemble eggs, and hens may look like roosters, any such fowl that seemed to be a male chicken laying an egg was immediately put to death. In 1474, one such heretical chicken was burned at the stake in Basle, in front of a large crowd.

The only plant immune to the withering gaze of the basilisk is rue, which is consumed by weasels to protect themselves from their enemies. Remedies for basilisk envenomation will always contain rue. A dead basilisk will ward away spiders, and one such basilisk carcass in Diana’s temple kept swallows at bay.

Borges quotes Quevedo as giving the paradox of the basilisk: its existence cannot be proven, as anyone who sees it and survives is a liar, and anyone who sees it and dies will not tell the tale.

The basilisk of biology, or Jesus Christ Lizard (Basiliscus) is a completely harmless South American lizard, known for walking on water. The lethal powers of the basilisk were also transposed by European settlers onto rattlesnakes, and the Mexican West Coast rattlesnake still bears the name of Crotalus basiliscus.

References

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