The Romance of Natural History, Second Series

by Philip Henry Gosse

This statement does not, to be sure, bear about it that character of precision which should mark the report of a scientific body, nor is it verified by authority; but the terror ascribed to L'Académie at the idea of being hoaxed, and the instant quashing of the inquiry, are so true to nature, so accurately characteristic of our august associations of savans, that I cannot help believing the story.

Here is another, which has the air of a bonâ fide account, though I have no knowledge of the writer, nor does he himself seem to pretend to personal autopsy of the discovery.

On Monday last, September 20, while some workmen were engaged in getting iron ore at a place called Paswick, in the north of this county, [Derby,] they came upon a solid lump of ore, which, being heavier than two men could lift, they set to work to break with their picks, when, to their surprise, in a cavity near the centre of the stone, they found a Toad alive. The cavity was much larger than the Toad, being nearly six inches in diameter, and was lined with crystals of what I suppose to be carbonate of lime. The stone was about four yards from the surface of the ground; it is now in the possession of Mr Haywood of Derby, by whose men it was found; but unfortunately the Toad was not preserved after its death, which took place almost immediately on its exposure to the atmosphere.[100]

Audi alteram partem. Mr Plant of the Salford Museum tells us, both in sorrow and in anger, a story, doubtless more amusing to us who read it than to him, of his adventures among the toad-finders. When geologising in the neighbourhood of Chesterfield, a quarryman, whom he had invited to share a bottle of porter, informed him in confidence that Toads inclosed in stone were plentiful thereabout. "He said he had often found them, and that he knew a stone before it was broken that would contain a Toad; giving me long and circumstantial accounts of the whole phenomenon: and, to convince me of the truth of his statement, he took me to the quarry (a carboniferous sandstone) that I might see the stones out of which he said the Toads had been released. I examined the stones and the whole quarry very attentively, and listened to the emphatic testimony of other miners present. After complying in an agreeable manner to their remark that the day was warm, and the water of the quarry not much in favour, I made a simple proposal of this nature:—I promised to pay to any one of them the sum of twenty shillings for the next stone in which they found a Frog or Toad when the stone was broken in two. They should catch the Frog if he bolted out of the hole, replace him, and fit the stones together again, afterwards despatching it to me in that condition. I further promised to pay the sum of forty shillings to any one of them who should procure me a stone, unbroken, in which he considered a Toad or Frog was imprisoned, if, on breaking it myself, such turned out to be the case. These conditions were to remain in force for twelve months; and as the means of conveyance to my address, which I gave them, would occasion little or no trouble, the offer was readily accepted by the miners; who also, to express their confidence in soon being able to supply the order, proposed that it would be all safe if I advanced a little cash on account; which however I resolutely declined doing. And now what will the credulous believers in these 'Toads in stone' who read the Zoologist say, when they learn that I visited the quarry twice during the twelve months, in order to fetch the Toads which never came by rail? I always found the men there blasting tons of new rock, splitting stones for every building purpose, yet dry-throated and sullen; for, alas! most unaccountably during that long twelve months they found plenty of holes—not Toad holes—in the sandstone, but the reptiles had been banished as effectually as ever they were from the Emerald Isle."[101]

This was disheartening, certainly: and we do not wonder that Mr Plant became "a total disbeliever in these 'simple tales.'" Still, it is just possible, that immured Toads may exist, though Mikey of the Chesterfield quarry, in hope of the advance, did brag a little too confidently of the commonness of the occurrence. That, within one twelvemonth, within the limits of one quarry, no such Toad turned up, even under the stimulus of the proffered forty shillings, can scarcely be admitted to be absolutely conclusive proof of the negative, at least not to us who were not placed in the painful position of gullees. Mr Arthur Hussey of Rottingdean justly remarks, when presenting some evidence per contra, that we should not think the innocence of a culprit was established by his asserting, when sundry witnesses affirmed they saw him commit the offence he was accused of,—that he could produce ten times the number who would swear they did not see him.

"During the summer of 1846," writes Mr Hussey, "in the formation of a railroad, about half a mile from Pontefract, in Yorkshire, the works were carried a 'depth of four feet through a rock betwixt lime and sandstone, about the junction of the two formations:' the rock being so firm as to require blasting. 'It is entirely free from beds of any kind, or what the workmen term "backs," running up it,' but therein are 'an infinite number of small nodules of a harder quality, entirely crystallised in the interior.' After blasting, the labourers were much surprised to find among the fragments several of these nodules, each one containing a Frog, as many as seven having been counted after one 'shot.'

"These were not casually seen when exposed, and then disregarded, but were examined in their stone prisons through very minute holes, some even preserved in that state for a long period. For example, the relator states of one specimen, 'I kept this Toad in a cellar for about five months, during which time it ate nothing, and was without light, the hole in the stone being covered with a piece of clay, and the whole kept moist and cool with water.' Of another he says, 'The Frog lived only about a week, as I kept it in a place which I think was too warm for it, and also not sufficiently dark and quiet. When the Frogs were disturbed by the shots, their first desire seemed to be to get under shelter of some stone, or into their old holes again, shewing thereby that sight was not wanting, and bodily activity was perfect as far as could be seen. One thing struck me as singular with regard to the Frog I kept—its fresh, plump, and healthy appearance, its skin being soft and transparent. One day, when I was holding my finger over the hole in the stone, it pushed its head between my finger and the sides of the hole, and drew its whole body after it on to the table, where it appeared more like a skeleton than any living animal I have ever seen, but by degrees it extended itself to its former dimensions.'

"Of the above curious occurrence my only knowledge is derived from the account written to a distant friend, of which the substance has now been extracted. The writer is an utter stranger, but he was officially employed in the operations which resulted in the discoveries; and my information leads me to believe his report deserving of confidence, for which reason I have not hesitated to offer this abstract for publication in the Zoologist."[102]