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.[107]
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."[108]
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?"[109]
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."[110]
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.