Part 18

Dr Buckland says, "It is probable there was some aperture in the luting by which small insects found admission." But this is altogether a petitio principii: it absolutely begs the question at issue. Are not these insects entirely gratuitous? The luting was, of course, carefully laid on: there could be no drying to cause contraction, buried as it was in the earth; the glass was uninjured; no orifice was detected; and yet, forsooth, it must be assumed that "small insects found admission." Then, too, consider the problem. It is not the possibility that a microscopically minute insect or two may have managed in some inscrutable way to insinuate themselves, but insects sufficient to support this large Toad for thirteen months, and to make it at the end of that time 128 grains heavier than it was when first inclosed! There is the fact, as stated by this careful observer; and I am sure his hypothesis of intrusive insects will not account for it.

I might make similar remarks on No. 5. The glass was "slightly cracked." No insects were discovered in it; nor is any perceptible orifice alluded to; yet this Toad had increased from 1185 grains to 1265 grains. The "slight crack" in the glass makes this example less remarkable at first sight than the other; but in reality it is equally inscrutable. Insects, however minute, do not pass through glass merely cracked; but the requirement is the admission of insects enough to make an increase of flesh of 80 grains' weight, besides maintaining the waste of the Toad during thirteen months. Where, in each case, was the excrement corresponding to such an augmentation? An insect-diet, as every naturalist knows, leaves a very considerable residuum of indigestible, incorruptible, chitinous matter: the f{oe}cal remains of an insect-diet sufficient to keep an adult Toad in condition for thirteen months, and leave him 128 grains heavier than at first, would form no inconsiderable or inconspicuous mass. Yet the silence of the observer on so conclusive an evidence proves that it was utterly wanting.

The Toads which survived longest were the largest specimens. Perhaps it requires a condition of peculiar vigour to bear the incarceration. Even these were all dead before two years had elapsed. But then it must be remembered that they had been disturbed: they had been taken out, handled, and weighed, and replaced; and during the second year they had been examined "several times." Air, it is true, was not admitted in these later examinations; but light was; and it may be that the absence of all external stimulus (and light is a potent one) is indispensable to the prolongation of vitality under conditions so abnormal.

No one supposes that incarceration in solid rock is an ordinary event in the life of even a Toad. However it occur,--granting that it may occur,--it must surely be a rare accident happening to an individual here and there, from which millions of Toads are exempt. We may reasonably suppose, too, that not one in a hundred so accidentally incarcerated would survive, the accident in the majority of cases proving fatal. If we bear in mind these not unreasonable presumptions, we shall not hastily decide that all the recorded discoveries of Toads immured are proved false and impossible, because we have not succeeded in finding a case of longevity out of four-and-twenty Toads, many of them little ones, which we took and violently immured at our pleasure.

To my own mind these interesting experiments are far more corroborative than contradictory of the popular belief. The amazing fact remains, that an adult vertebrate air-breathing animal can certainly live, and increase in size, shut up in a stone cell, debarred from light and air and food, for a period between one and two years! What have we parallel to this in the whole range of natural history? C'est le premier pas qui coûte. After the first year has passed so auspiciously, why may not a second? a third? and so indefinitely--under circumstances peculiarly favouring? It is by no means certain that there are not such favouring circumstances, because we cannot precisely predicate what they are. And if we admit the reported cases to be--only a few of them--true, we cannot evade the conclusion, that the longevity of these imprisoned Toads must be immense, incalculable. For a Toad that emerges when a block of stone is split up, from a matrix that fits (say somewhat roughly, if you please) its form and size, must have been there ever since the stone was in a soft state, how long soever that may have been. Nor does it in the least affect the question, that there may have been some minute crack in the matrix through which insects, sufficient to support life, entered. This circumstance, I say, if satisfactorily proved, would not touch the question of time. And surely it is a marvel of colossal magnitude that a vertebrate animal should have maintained its life shut up in a mass of stone ever since the deposition of the matter in a solid form, even though we be able to eliminate from it the element of total abstinence during the entire period.

But facts are upon record which prove the possibility of Toads surviving a protracted incarceration, effected by man, and therefore without their will. In 1809, on opening a gap in a wall at Bamborough, in Northumberland, for the passage of carts, a Toad, which had been incarcerated in the centre of a wall, was found alive, and set at liberty. A mason, named George Wilson, when building this wall, sixteen years before, had wantonly immured the animal, in a close cavity formed of lime and stone, just sufficient to contain it, and which he plastered so closely as seemingly to prevent the admission of air. When discovered, it seemed at first, as must naturally be supposed, in a very torpid state; but it soon recovered animation and activity, and, as if sensible of the blessings of freedom, made its way to a collection of stones, and disappeared.

Mr F. W. L. Ross of Broadway House, near Topsham, an acute and experienced naturalist, narrates the following circumstances:--"In the year 1821, I was residing in the country, and in my court-yard was a set of stone steps for mounting on horseback. These being useless to me, I desired they might be removed. On taking them down, the lowest step, a coarse red conglomerate, measuring about three feet in length, ten inches in depth, and about fourteen in width, was raised by a heavy bar. It had been well bedded in mortar, in which, while soft, a Toad had been evidently placed, as there was no appearance of any way by which it could have found ingress or egress, the mould or cast being as perfect as if taken in plaster. On the removal of the stone, the Toad remained torpid for a few minutes, when it seemed to revive, and then crept out. From the owners of the property I ascertained that the steps had been placed there forty-five years before, and, to the best of their knowledge, had never been moved.

"The second account is from a clergyman, and originated in my informing him of the above. He caused a pit to be dug in his garden, six feet deep; at the bottom was laid a slate, on which a full-sized Toad was placed, with an inverted flower-pot over it. The hole and edges were well luted with clay; the pit was then filled in, and on that day twelve months reopened, when the Toad was found alive, and as well as when inclosed in its living tomb. If, therefore, it could exist in such a state for twelve months, it is not impossible that it might do so for a much longer period."

These curious facts derive confirmation and augmented interest from some apparently parallel conditions observed of other animals, widely removed in the organic scale from the Reptilia, and that on both sides. Some glimpses of an indefinitely protracted torpidity in Wasps are given to us in a communication from an eminent entomologist, Mr G. Wailes of Newcastle, to the Entomological Society of London, and published in their "Proceedings" of March 5, 1860. These Rip Van Winkles of the insect race choose, it seems, the tops of loftiest mountains for going to their long sleep. Who knows what might be found if a clever insect-hunter were to go stone-turning on the peaks of Ararat? Read the following, young enterprising entomologists! and set out.

"It is very evident that we have a great deal yet to learn about the Social Wasps, and therefore the following remarks as to Vespa vulgaris may be interesting. Ever since 1829 I have, at intervals, searched the summit of Skiddaw (3022 feet) for specimens of Leistus montanus, and on every occasion have taken out from underneath the loose fragments of the slate perfectly torpid females of this Wasp, with the wings, legs, antennæ, &c., precisely in the state in which we find them during winter in the lower lands. Not unfrequently I have met with dead specimens which seemed to have perished in the same dormant state, and been there for a year or two at least. Mr Smith, in his catalogue of the British Vespadæ, under this species, states that Mr Wollaston found the female abundant under stones on the extreme summit of Gribon Oernant, near Llangollen, in September 1854, adding, 'probably hybernating for the winter,' but had evidently forgotten my writing to him on the subject. My visits to the mountain have extended from the latter end of June to the latter end of August, and therefore it necessarily follows that either these specimens of the female Wasp were those of the previous year, or that this sex appears much earlier in the season than has hitherto been supposed. But in either case the question arises, why are they torpid during these the hottest months of the year? It is quite true that the temperature of the altitude is below that of the plains, especially during the night, and I have myself been enveloped in falling sleet and snow more than once, both in June and August, though, as a rule, the Cumberland mountains seldom have a thick covering of snow, and often only a few inches once or twice in the winter. Still, the temperature of ordinary mountains always approaches that of the plains in summer, and, one would have expected, was in Britain at least sufficiently high to rouse these Wasps in their winter quarters, when every other insect under the same stones was active and stirring, and the air so warm and bright that Larentia salicata and Crambus furcatillus were sporting in the mid-day sun above them. Such, however, was not the case, and when turned out of their snug, dry quarters, they allowed themselves to be handled and put into pill-boxes just as they do in winter. We may therefore ask, when are these sleepers to awake? for as the ground temperature reaches its maximum during the months in which I have met with them, and Mr Wollaston has found them in a similar state in September, when a declining temperature has set in, we must conclude that for that year all prospect of their subsequent issue from their retreats through the influence of heat is barred. Can this be called hybernation, as it is usually understood? Or is there some other cause of torpidity besides mere cold? Or are we to conclude that when once put to sleep in these lofty regions, they wake no more unless kindly removed into a milder clime by a stray entomologist, when, as I have always noticed, they become as active as those of the warm lowlands?"

Mr Westwood, in the conversation that ensued on this communication, suggested that these female Wasps had been the founders of colonies in the preceding spring, and, after performing their maternal duties, had retired to die in the situations in which they were found by Mr Wailes. But with all due deference to so great an authority, is not this another example of those "explanations" which are thrown off without a due consideration of the exigencies of the case in hand--explanations which really explain nothing? For though this hypothesis might account for Wasps found under such conditions in June, it will not do for the September findings. Insects that had performed the end of their existence and had retired to die in June, would not live through July and August, and be found alive in September. Besides, Mr Wailes distinctly affirms, that they always become active when removed to a milder clime, which is proof positive that they had not retired to die. Mr Smith's hypothesis, that they are "probably hybernating for the winter," will not account for their torpidity in June and July. Mr Westwood's hypothesis, that they are moribund individuals after their spring work, will not explain their vitality till September, and their revivification when removed.

But these are insects; and the difference between vertebrate and invertebrate life is so vast that, after all, the possibilities of the latter may not have much bearing on those of the former. What, then, shall we say to an indefinite prolongation of life under like dreary conditions in--Bats? Bats, which are true vertebrata; and no amphibia grovelling at the bottom of the vertebrate ladder, where the dim flame of spinal life is just glimmering in the socket, but Mammalia, and those of nearly the highest type;--Bats, which Linnæus associated with Homo sapiens himself in his first Order Primates! Can these live for years shut up from light and food and air? these great-chested, well-lunged, warm-blooded, aerial quadrupeds? "Impossible! I would not believe it, if----" Stay! make no rash vows; but read, weigh, and judge. Remember,--both the following statements are by clergymen, each of whom is a well-known, careful, experienced naturalist.

"A very curious instance," says Mr Pemberton Bartlett, "of the great length of time that a Bat can remain in a state of torpidity, came under my notice about three weeks since; and as I believe instances of the kind are but rarely observed, perhaps an account of the facts of the case may not prove uninteresting. Upon opening a vault in Bishopsbourne church, the bricklayer observed a large Bat clinging to the wall. Thinking it a curious thing to find a Bat in a vault which he knew had not been opened for twenty years, in the evening he sent it to me by his boy, who, when he arrived at the door, was tempted to open the basket to look at the inmate, when most unfortunately it made its escape, and flitted into a leaden spout which was placed against the house, from whence I was unable to recover it. Upon learning the particulars of its discovery, I made a careful search about the vault, but was unable to trace any hole or crack through which the smallest Bat could have crept. The bricklayer also informed me that there was no place where a Bat could have entered, in the part where he opened the vault, as the entrance was bricked up, and over the steps was a slab which fitted close. If, indeed, it had been possible for a Bat to have got between this, the brickwork at the entrance would most effectually have prevented it from finding an asylum in the vault. The natural inference therefore is, that the Bat must have got into the vault when it was last opened, and consequently had been entombed since the year 1823! It was most unfortunate that I was unable to decide what species it was; but, from the bricklayer's description, I think it must have been Vespertilio Pipistrellus. When first taken out of the vault it was in a torpid state, but the effects of the air may be imagined from its taking the first opportunity to escape in the evening; it flew, however, far more 'leaden winged' than ever bats are wont to fly, which was by no means marvellous, when we consider it had been out of practice for twenty-one years."

The next account, by the Rev. A. C. Smith, of Yatesbury Rectory, Calne, is one of peculiar interest. The narrator actually witnessed the discovery. His investigation was pursued with the cautious care, and his statement is made with the precision, which belong to science; and the details are so full, and his remarks so appropriate, that though the story is somewhat long, I cannot bring myself to abridge it. It bears date, Feb. 18, 1854. Of course, the reader will note how these two narratives yield each other mutual corroboration.

"While effecting some repairs in the pavement of the aisle of my church, a short time since, the masons found it necessary to remove some bricks from the solid wall of an adjacent vault, in order the better to adjust an iron bar intended to support the superincumbent flagstone. It seems that one or two bricks being removed, and several large and handsome coffins being exposed to view, curiosity tempted one of the workmen to reach his hand in with a lighted candle, in order to see the names and dates on the coffins; the result of which investigation shewed that the last coffin was placed there in 1748. During this search I entered the church, just in time to witness the extreme surprise, and the no little consternation, of the man, whose hand had suddenly come in contact with a Bat, suspended from the roof of the vault. The Bat was soon brought to light; and, in its half-torpid state, placed in my hand. We then proceeded to make a very minute examination of this vault with a lighted candle, in order to discover, if possible, by what means the Bat could have penetrated to its resting-place: but, although our search was very careful and long continued, we failed to discover the smallest crack or crevice in which a pin could be thrust. The roof was an arch of brick, surmounted by flagstones; the sides were solid masonry, bearing no appearance internally of decay; and the position of the vault was very near the centre of the church: so that I was much puzzled to account for the occurrence of the Bat in a place apparently hermetically sealed for above a hundred years; and knew not how to combat the opinion of the workmen, that it must have been entombed there alive since the year 1748.

"I now proceeded to institute inquiries regarding the vault in which the Bat was found. The marble monument above, recorded the names of an old Wiltshire family long since extinct in these parts, and the dates of the three coffins below, corroborating the statement of the brass plate, that the individual last buried died A.D. 1748. Several old men in the parish remembered an adjacent vault being opened, when they were boys, nearly sixty years since: but all positively denied that the vault in question had ever been opened in their lives: and one, a very old man, formerly clerk, and whose then residence abutted on the churchyard, was very emphatic on this point. So that I am constrained to believe that the vault has remained untouched since it received its last occupant, a hundred and six years ago: and I am the more convinced of this from the excessive freshness of the last coffin, the brass plate and nails of which are as bright, and its whole appearance as new, as if it had been placed there but yesterday, which would not have been the case had the external air been admitted at any time since the vault was closed.

"During the time of the examination of the vault, the Bat was held in my hand, and above an hour must have elapsed since its capture before I was enabled to take it to the Rectory, and place it under an inverted glass: by this time the warmth of my hand had considerably revived it, and it wandered round its prison, snuffing about with its curious nose, and standing up, and trying to hook itself on to the smooth glass, which baffled all its attempts. As it obstinately refused to eat small pieces of chopped meat, with which I tempted it to break its fast, which may have continued a hundred and six years, and after which I should have imagined it to be ravenous; and as it lay on its side, apparently in a dying state, humanity urged me to give it a chance of life, by restoring it to liberty, and I accordingly carried it to the garden, where I placed it upon the turf, and watched its movements. At first it clung to the blades of grass, and shivered a good deal; presently it fluttered along the ground; soon it rose upon the wing, though in an awkward manner, and although it sank several times, as if about to fall to the ground, and as if it had not found the use of its wings, (which might have been a little stiff for want of exercise, if they had been closed above a hundred years), it passed behind a clump of trees and I saw it no more; and then I began to regret, when too late, that I had not made more efforts to keep it alive and watch its recovery. I know little of the different species of Bats, but, from its diminutive size, and extremely long ears, I should imagine it to be the Vespertilio auritus of Gilbert White.

"Now, if the hypothesis be deemed absurd that the Bat had been immured in the vault since 1748, how then are we to account for its presence there? For although I am aware that a Bat, and especially one of the smallest species, would creep through a very small crack or crevice, yet the evidence of my own senses, after a very close examination, convinces me that not even the smallest crack existed between the bricks of the vault; and I think the evidence no less conclusive that the vault has remained untouched for a great number of years. Again, notwithstanding the disbelief of some, it is very generally acknowledged that Toads do occasionally exist in blocks of stone and in timber; and the material in which they are inclosed having gradually formed around them, they must necessarily have been entombed, in some well-authenticated cases, for a very long period of time. Why then, I ask, should we deny that to be possible with the Bat, which we so readily concede to be an occurrence by no means unusual with the Toad? I own, that, taking all these things into account, and finding no other possible solution for the mystery, I came to the conclusion, after mature deliberation, that the Bat had been entombed in the vault since it last was opened in the year 1748. That impression has increased upon longer reflection, and has been further strengthened almost into certainty, from the perusal of a very interesting and very similar case, recorded by the Rev. J. P. Bartlett in an early volume of the Zoologist (Zool., 613.) That gentleman states, that on opening a vault which had been closed for twenty-one years, a Bat was discovered in a torpid state; that he himself made a very careful search about the vault, and was unable to discover any crack through which the smallest Bat could have crept; that the vault was surrounded with brickwork; the entrance was bricked up, and over the steps was placed a close-fitting slab; and that he could come to no other conclusion than that the Bat had been inclosed there for twenty-one years. I confess that I quite agree in opinion with Mr Bartlett, and believe that the Bat discovered in the vault in Bishopsbourne church crept in on the occasion of its last opening: and so in the like manner with the one found in my own church; for although there is unquestionably a vast difference between twenty-one and a hundred and six years, yet, if we can establish the fact of a Bat remaining torpid for the shorter period, I find no difficulty in understanding that a sleep which would endure so long as that did, might be protracted to a far longer period. It is most probable that many will differ from me in opinion, and perhaps some will ridicule the idea: if they can discover any other probable or even possible means of accounting for the presence of the Bat in the vault, exclusive of a crack or chink in it, or of its having been opened within the memory of living man, both of which views I firmly oppose, I shall feel greatly obliged by their stating their opinions in the Zoologist: meanwhile I hold to my belief, that the Bat had been there for not less than one hundred and six years!"

Bell's Brit. Rept. (1839), 112.

Zoologist, 614.

Zool., 1879.

Zool., 3632.

Zool., 3808.

Zool., 3848.

Zool., 3904.

Zool., 5959.

Zool., 6537.

Ibid., 6565.