Today I have the great pleasure of introducing as a guest blogger, Ruth Salter. A colleague and fellow coffee ranter, she works mostly on the miracles of medieval saints.
Over to Ruth -
If
you were asked to think of an unassuming British animal, I would hazard a guess
that the first creature to come to mind would be something – small, brown,
possibly squeaky – like a mouse or hedgehog.
So unassuming is the toad that I bet you’d not have even given it a
second thought (if it wasn’t for the title of this post). Yet whilst we might think of toads as little
more than ‘dry frogs’ (a phrase I once heard a five year old use to describe
them with some accuracy) our medieval counterparts were much more wary of these
pesky polliwogs.1
Medieval
bestiaries grouped amphibians with reptiles which, whilst now known to be
incorrect, is perhaps not such a surprising association to have made
considering outwards appearances. Like
many other ‘reptiles’, toads were seen to be dangerous, in fact the German
abbess Hildegard of Bingen (d.1179) warned in Physica that: ‘just as dangerous winds come forth with lightning
and thunder and hail, [the toad] has some diabolical art in it.’
Indeed, if a cat were to lick a toad or serpent then the cat would
become ‘harmful and poisonous’ to people; although with seemingly little issue
for the cat itself (maybe due to their nine lives). For
those that are becoming concerned over the prospect of amphibious encounters it
is worth noting that Hildegard highlighted frogs were less dangerous than toads
because they were ‘cold and a bit watery’, which clearly had a detrimental
effect on their powers. Discovering why toads had such a bad
reputation is harder, there is little direct mention of toads in the
bestiaries, nor in their forebears; and this lack of reference to toads, and
reptiles in general, in Classical anthological sources has not gone unnoticed.
However, whatever the cause, it is clear that toads were considered to
be dangerously poisonous.
But
how poisonous were toads? In the Life and Miracles of St William of Norwich
one account highlights the dangers of this poison in a miracle involving
Wimarc, a woman imprisoned at Gainsborough during Stephen’s reign (1135-54).
Wimarc, along with other prisoners had to endure ‘miserab[le] cold,
hunger, stench and attacks of toads’ so in order to secure their freedom they
decided to poison the gaoler: ‘they took a toad (of which, as I said, there
were many in the prison) and mixed its poison with the drink…and invited the
gaoler to drink it’. However, the suspicious gaoler was less than
willing to accept a drink from his captives (funny that) and requested they
drank first, seeing their hesitation and fear he knew not to trust the offering
and forced them to drink instead:
Immediately
the venom crept through the limbs of each, and all of them swelled up in so
wonderful and horrid a manner that any man who saw them would be convinced that
their skin must burst…The poison saturated them through and through and the
life was brought to the doors of death.
Only
Wimarc survived and, having been released, she suffered for seven years from a
‘monstrous swelling’ which no doctor could cure. Turning to the saints she eventually came to
St William’s tomb in Norwich Cathedral where, after a few days, she kissed the
tomb and ‘vomited all that poisonous discharge on the pavement…it was horrible
– no, unbearable, that there was enough of it to fill a vessel of the largest
size, that the bystanders were so constrained to leave the place, and the
sacrists to cleanse the spot and strew it with fragrant herbs’.
Wimarc, however, now appeared completely cured from her swelling, as if
she had never been poisoned and, after giving thanks, returned home.
A
similar account of toad-based poisoning can also be found in the Peterborough
Chronicle which refers to torturers using reptiles and amphibians.
Clearly toads are dangerously venomous and we must learn to be a lot
more wary of them (or be prepared to undertake a journey to Norwich to the
boy-martyr William for some help). So
why, in the title did I refer specifically to Gerald of Wales’ The Journey through Wales?
Well, Gerald’s account reveals another terrifying aspect of toads: not
only are they poisonous but they also have a habit of stalking their victims
(not so unassuming now are they?).
In
his memoir of travelling around Wales with Archbishop Baldwin of Canterbury in 1188
(to rouse would-be crusaders to take the cross) Gerald records many fanciful
tales of animals, including self-castrating beavers and tricksy weasels, but no
animal comes across more terrifying than the toads of Cemais who stalked, and
eventually devoured, a young man from the neighbourhood:
In our own
days a young man who lived in this neighbourhood, who was lying ill in bed, was
persecuted by a plague of toads. It
seemed as if the entire local population of toads had made an agreement to go
to visit him. Vast numbers were killed
by his friends and by those looking after him, but they grew again like the
heads of the Hydra. Toads came flocking
from all directions, more and more of them, until no one could count them. In the end they young man’s friends and the
other people who were trying to help were quite worn out. They chose a tall tree, cut off all its
branches and removed all its leaves.
Then they hoisted him up to the top in a bag. He was still not safe from his venomous
assailants. The toads crawled up the
tree looking for him. They killed him
and ate him right up, leaving nothing but his skeleton.
No
reason is given for why this unfortunate youth should have been targeted by the
toads, perhaps they took a disliking to him following some unrecorded insult,
or perhaps toads are just so menacing a foe that they need no rational to
support their decisions. Either way, Gerald
makes it clear that toads are determined and single-minded in their decisions;
when they chose to stalk they’ll do it to the death and not even trees or
beheading will stand in their way. But,
on a plus side (if one can be found) these Welsh toads do not use their natural
poison, although Gerald does refer to them as ‘venomous assassins’, so at least
the poor chap from Cemais is spared the pain suffered by Wimarc before his
demise.14 However (let’s be
honest) neither fate is appealing and the message is clear – avoid toads at all
costs!
So
next time you come across a toad, you might just want to reconsider becoming
acquainted, and if you do decided to go ahead and greet that assisinous
amphibian be prepared for the consequences that will (undoubtedly) follow.
Late 13th C French Psalter. Marginalia showing a
stork catching a frog or toad. Bodleian MS. Douce 118 f.134v.
Footnotes
Manuscripts
