Harper's New Monthly Magazine

With animals it is the same as with men; some enjoy an unmerited reputation, while others find themselves the subjects of an undeserved opprobrium.

Among the victims of popular prejudice, I would mention the Toad.

Yes! at this name alone, you begin to exclaim against the ugliness of the animal, the venom he ejaculates, and a thousand other calumnies with which the poor beast is very unjustly charged.

I will not seek to disguise the fact-granted, the toad is ugly; but, then, I do not think that ugliness hinders those who are afflicted with it from possessing a crowd of excellent qualities and virtues. The negro Eustache and M. de Monthyon were not handsome, and yet the former, with the acclamations of all France, has been crowned by the Academy; the latter has consecrated his immense fortune to charitable institutions. We could further cite, in support of our opinion, a great number of politicians, nay even of artists, who have attained renown far otherwise than by the regularity of their features or by their personal attractions; but we would not pain any one.

Now, as to the toad, though he is ugly and calumniated he does not the less possess a multitude of domestic virtues, which ought to place him far higher in the esteem of impartial persons, than the dove, whom we cite so often as a model of tenderness, yet who, let it be noticed in passing, employs one half of her life in quarreling with her mate, and the other in exchanging with him blows of the beak, often bloody.

If you doubt the truth of my assertions, be kind enough to follow me into the forest of Meudon, where toads are found in greater abundance perhaps than any where else in the environs of Paris.

And first, do you hear in the distance that strange chant which is not wanting in melody and charm, when it rises afar in the air, like the plaint of love? That little cry, flute-like, short, monotonous, repeated several times in succession, at brief intervals, varies in such a manner, that one seems to hear it retire and approach on one side or another, like the sound of a trumpet by which the motions of a flag are directed. The greater part of the time one can not determine whence proceeds this strange music, often attributed to some bird, and without our being willing to acknowledge the obscure and unknown singer who produces it. It is the announcement of the betrothal-it is the love-song of the Batrachian.

Never was love more sincere, or more devoted. When once the toad has pledged his faith to a spouse, not only does he exhibit toward her a romantic fidelity, but he, moreover, protects her at the peril, and often even at the sacrifice of his life. If any one attacks a female, the male rushes in front of the aggressor, provokes him swells himself out in sign of defiance, and endeavors to irritate him, in order to give his companion time to fly, and take refuge in a safe asylum.

If, on the other hand, nothing disturbs him, he quits not his spouse for a moment; he surrounds her with anxious and tender attentions, lays before her the most delicate morsels of the prey he hunts for her, only eats after she has finished, and altogether acts in a manner, that might make many a Parisian husband blush. Further, he is fiery, jealous; he permits no rival to approach her to whom he is united. Woe to the audacious one who would seek to win her affection! almost invariably he pays with his life for his impudent endeavors.

This model husband, when he becomes a father has no less tenderness for his children than for their mother. When the hour, dear to the ancient Lucina, arrives, it is he who performs for his companion, the tender duties of the occasion; he takes the eggs in his arms, and places them along the body of the female, to which they remain attached till the period of hatching.

At this epoch alone, the female approaches the water, in it she deposits her eggs, and therein the eggs undergo the different transformations peculiar to the Batrachians. Then the double mission of father and mother is ended.

You see, that in writing an eulogium on the toad, and in seeking to re-install him in public favor, we have not been utopian.

Besides, the toad is a very sociable animal, and readily becomes the companion and the friend of man. Often, he establishes his dwelling in our houses. Pennant relates the history of a toad, who took up his abode under a staircase, and who, every evening as soon as he saw the lights, came into the dining-room. He suffered himself to be taken up and placed on the table, where they fed him with worms, flies, and wood-lice. He took these insects delicately, inflated himself to express his gratitude, and knew very well how to ask them to put him on the table, when they pretended not to be willing to do so. This toad lived thirty-six years, and then was the victim of an accident.