THE TOAD
“What shall I say in defense of that poor creature, the toad, whose
very name is enough to excite disgust? It is really loathed by all. It
seems to us the ugliest and most disgusting of animals. What has it
done, poor thing, to deserve the dislike every one feels for it?
“It is ugly, the plaintiff asserts. Its flabby form is a shapeless
lump, thrown together as if in careless haste, and its flattened,
dirt-colored back is strewn with livid warts. Its legs, too short for
symmetry or for effectual service, are unable to lift out of the mud
its swollen stomach, which drags on the ground. Its big head merges
into a hideous mouth, and heavy eyelids open to show large and
prominent eyes which stare stupidly. If some danger threatens, it puffs
itself up, forming under its skin an air-cushion which resists blows
with its flabby elasticity.
“It is venomous, the plaintiff further declares. Squatting in the mire
at the bottom of some dark hole, it absorbs the unwholesome humors of
the slime for use in filling the warts on its back with a milky venom
which oozes out and moistens the entire body in time of peril. It also
squirts into the eyes of any one who attacks it a liquid, its urine,
which burns and stings. It infects the atmosphere with its foul breath.
From its gullet drips a fluid that poisons the grass and fruit over
which the animal passes, so that its track is as fatal as its
appearance is loathsome. In a word, the toad is ugly and venomous; then
war without mercy on the hideous creature that infects earth, air,
water, and by its very appearance disgusts the beholder! There you have
the charges against the toad.
“Now what shall I say in my turn, in defense of the poor creature? I
shall tell the truth, the simple truth, and the charges made against it
will be reduced to nothing.
“As to the ugliness of the toad I will not say a word; all are welcome
to their own opinion on that subject. I only ask you to recall our talk
about bats.”
“I don’t think the toad so horribly ugly,” Jules ventured to assert.
“Its golden-yellow eyes are full of fire, its voice is sweet, almost
flute-like, while the frog’s croak is anything but musical. I admit
that the toad’s bloated body is not graceful; but, after all, it has
some good points.”
“Little toads hopping about among the reeds at the edge of the pond,”
said Emile, “are pretty to look at, and they make me laugh when they
tumble heels over head every time they jump. I have taken them up in my
hand, but I wouldn’t touch big toads; I am afraid of them.”
“I wouldn’t either,” Jules agreed, “for fear of their venom.”
“Ah, the venom! That is the serious side of the question, and not the
creature’s ugliness, which is open to discussion. The toad has the
beauty appropriate to it, the beauty of a toad, and it cannot have any
other without ceasing to be what it is.
“On being molested toads perspire through the warts that cover their
skin a thick and viscous fluid that looks somewhat like milk. This
secretion has a nauseous, burning taste and is unbearably bitter.”
“Some one, then, has tasted the milky sweat that oozes from the toad’s
warts?” asked Jules.
“Yes, scientists have tasted it in order to tell us the truth about it,
just as others have done with the viper’s venom. We must respect highly
these courageous investigators, who are willing to make any sacrifice
if only they may add to our knowledge and relieve our sufferings.”
“The toad sweats this milky liquid when tormented; is that the way it
defends itself?” Jules further inquired.
“It hopes to defend itself by the horrid odor of its sweat and by its
intolerably bitter taste; but this sweat is put to no further use. The
animal would be truly dangerous if it could inject its sweat into our
blood as the viper injects its venom through its fangs into the wound
already made by them. I will now relate a few experiments made by the
scientists I just referred to.
“A drop of the toad’s milky fluid is introduced with a pointed steel
instrument into the flesh of a little bird. In a few minutes the bird
staggers as if intoxicated, shuts its eyes, gasps, and falls dead.”
“Really and truly dead?” asked Emile.
“Really and truly dead,” his uncle replied. “A dog is treated in the
same manner, but with a stronger dose. In less than an hour the animal
dies in a frightful frenzy.”
“Then this white sweat of the toad must be a perfectly horrible venom,”
Jules remarked.
“Travelers tell us that certain South American Indian tribes poison the
tips of their arrows with this venom. First they impale alive on a long
stick a number of these animals, and then put them near the fire to
make their warts sweat. The fluid that oozes out is collected in a
large leaf, and into this fluid the savages dip their arrow-heads, a
wound from which is then likely to prove fatal.”
“Isn’t it the truth, then,” asked Jules, “that toads are venomous?”
“Yes and no. Applied in any way but by injection, the toad’s sweat is
harmless; to act as venom it must mix with the blood through a wound.
But I will not repeat what I have already told you about the viper’s
venom. The toad is powerless to make the slightest wound in our flesh,
and therefore it is absolutely impossible for it to harm us. It
possesses a poison without being able to make any use of it except to
bedew its own body by perspiring, thus repelling its enemies by the
horrid smell and taste of this sweat. You can handle a toad without any
sort of risk if you wish to; wash your hands immediately afterward if
they have become moistened by the contact, and there will be no further
trouble. Unless the foolish fancy should seize you to collect a little
of the venomous liquid on the point of a penknife and then prick
yourself with the knife till you drew blood, I can assure you
positively that the toad would cause you no injury whatever.”
“That is plain enough,” Jules admitted, “for the toad has no means of
making a wound to receive the venom from its warts; but they tell of
other kinds of venom such as urine thrown to a distance and drivel
running from the mouth.”
“No drivel runs from the toad’s mouth, nor is there any truth in the
animal’s poisoning fruit and grass with its saliva. That is pure
calumny invented to blacken the detested animal.”
“And the urine?”
“The toad, when molested, discharges its urine as a means of defense,
but not to any distance. You would have to hold your face close to the
animal to receive the discharge in the eyes. If that should happen to
some careless person, a temporary redness of the eyes would be the
utmost result. But no one would think of putting his face so close to
the animal, and so there is no cause for alarm on that score.”
“What about the creature’s terrible breath?” was Jules’s next inquiry.
“Another calumny on a par with that about the saliva. Its breath is no
more harmful than any other animal’s. So there is absolutely nothing
left of the charges brought against the toad. The poison it sweats in
moments of danger to drive away its enemies cannot injure as venom
injures, because the animal has no means of injecting it into a wound
and mixing it with the blood, as venom must be mixed to take effect.
The discharge of its urine falls too short to be dangerous, and even if
it should reach its mark its effect would be so slight that it is not
worth considering. Does any one give a thought to the hedgehog’s urine
when that animal sprays itself with this liquid on being molested? The
toad’s similar mode of defense is no more to be feared. The other
complaints, such as the swelling of one’s hands after touching the
animal, air poisoned by its breath, fruit and vegetables infected by
the saliva and the creature’s tracks, all come from people’s prejudice,
their imagination, which has given the poor batrachian a bad
reputation.
“The toad is harmless, but that is not enough to entitle it to our
consideration. It is also a very useful helper, a devourer of beetles,
slugs, larvæ—vermin of every description, in short. After spending the
day under a cool stone or in some dark hole, it leaves its retreat at
nightfall to make its rounds, hunching itself along on its big belly.
Here is a slug making such haste as it can toward the lettuce bed,
there a cricket chirping at the mouth of its hole, and there again a
June-bug laying its eggs in the ground. Very softly the toad approaches
and in three mouthfuls gobbles them all up with a gurgle of
satisfaction. Ah, those tasted good! And now for some more.
“It continues on its way, and by the time it has finished its rounds,
at daybreak, you may imagine what a multitude of worms and other small
prey the glutton has stowed away in its capacious stomach. And yet this
useful creature is stoned to death because it is ugly! My children,
never commit any such act of cruelty, at once foolish and harmful; do
not stone the toad, for you would thereby deprive the fields and
gardens of a vigilant guardian. Let it go its way in peace and it will
destroy so many insects that you will in the end find it less ugly than
you had thought.
“So well known is the toad’s usefulness that in England the animal is
an article of commerce. Toads are bought in the market at so much a
head, carried home carefully so as not to come to any harm, and then
allowed the freedom of the garden or placed in a hothouse, a crystal
palace, perhaps, where wonderful plants are grown. The toad’s business
is to lie in wait for beetles, slugs, and other destroyers that might
nibble the valuable plants; and it does its duty with zeal. What a
change of fortune for the maligned creature when it finds itself living
in a warm atmosphere and surrounded by the most splendid flowers
procured at great expense from all parts of the world and now exhaling
the most fragrant odors! As a finishing touch to the honor done the
poor thing in its floral palace of glass, there is offered the tribute
of poetry, that flower of the human imagination and invention. Listen
to this.
“A wretched toad with head split open and one eye gouged out by some
cruel hand was painfully dragging itself along through the mud of a
public highway, when four small boys chanced to spy it as they were
passing.
“They spied the toad,
And one and all sent up a gleeful shout:
‘Come on, come on, let’s kill the ugly lout!
But first we’ll have some fun.’ They laughed their fill,
As boys will laugh, hard-hearted, when they kill.
They pricked and goaded with a pointed stick,
Devising each in turn some cruel trick,
Flushed with their sport, egged on by passers-by,
While for the martyred toad none gave a sigh.
Poor ugly thing! But nature made it so;
For this alone its blood was caused to flow.
It tried to flee; one foot was severed quite,
Which gave the heartless band renewed delight.
Its gouged-out eye hung down; half-blind it sought
Some sheltering reeds; its efforts came to naught.
Its mangled form had been, you would have sworn,
Through some machine, to be so rent and torn.
And, oh, to think that hearts can be so base
As to wish ill to one in such sad case,
And to so great a load of suffering sore
To undertake to add one torment more!
Well-nigh exhausted now, hope almost gone,
The half-dismembered creature still toiled on.
E’en death itself would not, for pity’s sake,
So hideous a thing consent to take;
Or thus it seemed, and so with antics rude
The toad’s tormentors still their sport pursued.
Attempts to snare it next were made in vain:
It dodged, and sought a rut half filled with rain;
And, by its muddy bath somewhat restored,
Withstood the missiles that upon it poured.
Ah, what a sight was there, the beauty fresh
Of childhood, and its joy in bleeding flesh!
Such sport as theirs there surely ne’er had been:
‘Come on,’ they called, ‘come John, come Benjamin!
And bring a stone, a big one, and we’ll see
If Master Toad is quite as smart as we.’
Accordingly a massive stone was found,
Of ponderous weight, unwieldy, large, and round;
But cheerfully the lads their muscles strained,
With ends so laudable to be attained.
Just then, by curious chance, there passed that way
An over-loaded, heavy-rumbling dray.
An aged donkey, deaf, half-starved, and lame,
Was harnessed to the cart—the more’s the shame—
And on its back a pannier also bore.
A long day’s march behind and home before,
The patient beast trudged on with labored breath,
Though each step more seemed like to be its death.
Its toil-worn frame was so exceeding thin
You would have said ‘twas naught but bones and skin.
It bore full many marks of cruel blows,
And in its eyes one read the tale of those
That suffer hardship without hope. Meanwhile
Its master heaped upon it curses vile,
Nor spared the cudgel; but the road was deep
In mire that clogged the wheels, the hills were steep.
Creaking and groaning in lugubrious tones,
The dray, thus pulled by thing of skin and bones,
Moved slowly forward till at length the road
Descended sharply, and thus eased the load;
But this now crowded on the nigh-spent beast
With force sufficient (so it seemed, at least)
To hurl him headlong. And yet, strange to tell,
The donkey paused, unheeding blows that fell
From wrathful hand. The boys broke off their play,
Content to yield the donkey right of way.
‘Stand off!’ they cried; ‘let go there, Dick and Bob;
Let go the stone, the cart will do our job
With much more sport for us, so stand aside!’
All stood alert to see what should betide
Their wretched victim. But far otherwise
The thing fell out before their wondering eyes
Than they had thought: the donkey, bruised and lame,
At sight of woes that put his own to shame
Spared not himself, but gathered all his strength
And held the loaded cart until, at length,
Although remonstrant blows rained on his back,
He turned the dray from out the beaten track.
The grinding wheels, diverted, harmless pass,
And tortured toad is saved by tortured ass.
The driver cracks his whip, pulls at the reins,
And now the dray once more the road regains.
At that, one of the group engaged in play
(The very one who tells you this to-day)
Let fall the stone he’d been about to cast
Just as the laden wain came rumbling past;
And as he dropped it, lo, in accents clear
A mandate from on high fell on his ear,
A mandate that was quickly understood,
For it was brief, these simple words: ‘Be good.’ [8]
“In closing I repeat, with the great poet: ‘Be good.’ Be good if you
wish God to love you; be good that you may grow up to be noble-hearted
men; be good to one another, helping one another; be good to the
animals that give us their fleece, their strength, and their life, and
those that protect the fruits of the earth for us by keeping vigilant
guard over them. Be kind to them all, even to the humblest among them,
the toad, which serves us uncomplainingly and asks in return no pay but
a pitying glance.”