Chapter X: Peacock-Shooting, 326 (6)

_Probatum est!_ Besides the case mentioned in Mr Bartlett's letter (_ante_, p. 149), the late Dr Buckland, in November 1825, instituted a series of careful experiments, which are thus narrated by himself:--"In one large block of coarse oolitic limestone, twelve circular cells were prepared, each about one foot deep and five inches in diameter, and having a groove or shoulder at its upper margin fitted to receive a circular plate of glass, and a circular slate to protect the glass: the margin of this double cover was closed round and rendered impenetrable to air and water by a luting of soft clay. Twelve smaller cells, each six inches deep and five inches in diameter, were made in another block of compact siliceous sandstone, viz., the Pennant Grit of the coal formation near Bristol; these cells also were covered with similar plates of glass and slate, cemented at the edge by clay. The object of the glass covers was to allow the animals to be inspected, without disturbing the clay so as to admit external air or insects into the cell. The limestone is so porous that it is easily permeable by water, and probably also by air; the sandstone is very compact.

"On the 26th of November 1825, one live Toad was placed in each of the above-mentioned twenty-four cells, and the double cover of glass and slate placed over each of them, and cemented down by the luting of clay. The weight of each Toad in grains was ascertained and noted by Dr Daubeny and Mr Dillwyn at the time of their being placed in the cells; that of the smallest was 115 grains, and of the largest 1185 grains. The large and small animals were distributed in equal proportion between the limestone and sandstone cells.

"These blocks of stone were buried together in my garden beneath three feet of earth, and remained unopened until the 10th of December 1826, on which day they were examined. Every Toad in the smaller cells of the compact sandstone was dead, and the bodies of most of them so much decayed that they must have been dead some months. The greater number of those in the larger cells of porous limestone were alive. No. 1, whose weight when immured was 924 grains, now weighed only 698 grains. No. 5, whose weight when immured was 1185 grains, now weighed 1265 grains. The glass cover over this cell was slightly cracked, so that minute insects might have entered: none, however, were discovered in this cell; but in another cell whose glass was broken, and the animal within it dead, there was a large assemblage of minute insects; and a similar assemblage also on the outside of the glass of a third cell. In cell No. 9, a Toad which when put in weighed 988 grains, had increased to 1116 grains, and the glass cover over it was entire; but as the luting of the cell within which this Toad had increased in weight was not particularly examined, it is probable there was some aperture in it by which small insects found admission. No. 11 had decreased from 936 grains to 652 grains.

"When they were first examined in December 1826, not only were all the small Toads dead, but the larger ones appeared much emaciated, with the two exceptions above mentioned; we have already stated that these probably owed their increased weight to the insects which had found access to the cells, and become their food.

"The death of every individual of every size in the smaller cells of compact sandstone, appears to have resulted from a deficiency in the supply of air, in consequence of the smallness of the cells, and the impermeable nature of the stone; the larger volume of air originally inclosed in the cells of the limestone, and the porous nature of the stone itself, (permeable as it is slowly by water, and probably by air,) seem to have favoured the duration of life to the animals inclosed in them without food.

"It should be noticed that there is a defect in these experiments, arising from the treatment of the twenty-four Toads before they were inclosed in the blocks of stone. They were shut up and buried on the 26th of November, but the greater number of them had been caught more than two months before that time, and had been imprisoned all together in a cucumber frame placed on common garden earth, where the supply of food to so many individuals was probably scanty, and their confinement unnatural, so that they were in an unhealthy and somewhat meagre state at the time of their imprisonment. We can therefore scarcely argue with certainty from the death of all these individuals within two years, as to the duration of life which might have been maintained had they retired spontaneously, and fallen into the torpor of their natural hibernation in good bodily condition.

"The results of our experiments amount to this: all the Toads, both large and small, inclosed in sandstone, and the small Toads in the limestone also, were dead at the end of thirteen months. Before the expiration of the second year all the large ones also were dead; these were examined several times during the second year through the glass covers of the cells, but without removing them to admit air; they appeared always awake, with their eyes open, and never in a state of torpor, their meagreness increasing at each interval in which they were examined, until at length they were found dead; those two also which had gained an accession of weight at the end of the first year, and were then carefully closed up again, were emaciated and dead before the expiration of the second year.

"At the same time that these Toads were inclosed in stone, four other Toads of middling size were inclosed in three holes, cut for this purpose on the north side of the trunk of an apple-tree; two being placed in the largest cell, and each of the others in a single cell. The cells were nearly circular, about five inches deep and three inches in diameter; they were carefully closed up with a plug of wood, so as to exclude access of insects, and apparently were air-tight; when examined at the end of a year, every one of the Toads was dead, and their bodies were decayed.

"From the fatal result of the experiments made in the small cells cut in the apple-tree and the block of compact sandstone, it seems to follow that Toads cannot live a year excluded totally from atmospheric air; and, from the experiments in the larger cells within the block of oolitic limestone, it seems also probable that they cannot survive two years entirely excluded from food; we may therefore conclude that there is a want of sufficiently minute and accurate observation in those so frequently recorded cases, where Toads are said to be found alive within blocks of stone and wood, in cavities that had no communication whatever with the external air. The fact of my two Toads having increased in weight at the end of the year, notwithstanding the care that was taken to inclose them perfectly by a luting of clay, shews how very small an aperture will admit of insects sufficient to maintain life. In the cell No. 5, where the glass was slightly cracked, the communication though small was obvious, but in the cell No. 9, where the glass cover remained entire, and where it appears certain, from the increased weight of the inclosed animal, that insects must have found admission, we have an example of these minute animals finding their way into a cell to which great care had been taken to prevent any possibility of access.

"Admitting, then, that Toads are occasionally found in cavities of wood and stone with which there is no communication sufficiently large to allow the ingress and egress of the animal inclosed in them, we may, I think, find a solution of such phenomena in the habits of these reptiles, and of the insects which form their food. The first effort of the young Toad, as soon as it has left its tadpole state and emerged from the water, is to seek shelter in holes and crevices of rocks and trees. An individual which, when young, may have thus entered a cavity by some very narrow aperture, would find abundance of food by catching insects, which, like itself, seek shelter within such cavities; and may soon have increased so much in bulk as to render it impossible to get out again through the narrow aperture at which it entered. A small hole of this kind is very likely to be overlooked by common workmen, who are the only people whose operations on stone and wood disclose cavities in the interior of such substances.

"In the case of Toads, Snakes, and Lizards, that occasionally issue from stones that are broken in a quarry, or in sinking wells, and sometimes even from strata of coal at the bottom of a coal-mine, the evidence is never perfect to shew that the reptiles were entirely inclosed in solid rock. No examination is ever made until the reptile is first discovered by the breaking of the mass in which it was contained, and then it is too late to ascertain, without carefully replacing every fragment, (and in no case that I have seen reported has this ever been done,) whether or not there was any hole or crevice by which the animal may have entered the cavity from which it was extracted. Without previous examination it is almost impossible to prove that there was no such communication. In the case of rocks near the surface of the earth, and in stone quarries, reptiles find ready admission to holes and fissures. We have a notorious example of this kind in the Lizard found in a chalk-pit, and brought alive to the late Dr Clark. In the case also of wells and coal-pits, a reptile that had fallen down the well or shaft, and survived its fall, would seek its natural retreat in the first hole or crevice it could find, and the miner dislodging it from this cavity, to which his previous attention had not been called, might in ignorance conclude that the animal was coeval with the stone from which he had extracted it.

"It remains only to consider the case (of which I know not any authenticated example) of Toads that have been said to be found in cavities within blocks of limestone, to which, on careful examination, no access whatever could be discovered, and where the animal was absolutely and entirely closed up with stone. Should any such case ever have existed, it is probable that the communication between this cavity and the external surface had been closed up by stalactitic incrustation, after the animal had become too large to make its escape. A similar explanation may be offered of the much more probable case of a live Toad being entirely surrounded with solid wood. In each case, the animal would have continued to increase in bulk so long as the smallest aperture remained by which air and insects could find admission; it would probably become torpid as soon as this aperture was entirely closed by the accumulation of stalactite or the growth of wood. But it still remains to be ascertained how long this state of torpor may continue under total exclusion from food and from external air: and, although the experiments above recorded shew that life did not extend two years in the case of any one of the individuals which formed the subjects of them, yet, for reasons which have been specified, they are not decisive to shew that a state of torpor, or suspended animation, may not be endured for a much longer time by Toads that are healthy and well fed up to the moment when they are finally cut off from food, and from all direct access of atmospheric air.

"The common experiment of burying a Toad in a flower-pot covered with a tile, is of no value unless the cover be carefully luted to the pot, and the hole at the bottom of the pot also closed, so as to exclude all possible access of air, earthworms, and insects. I have heard of two or three experiments of this kind, in which these precautions have not been taken, and in which at the end of a year the Toads have been found alive and well.

"Besides the Toads inclosed in wood and stone, four others were placed each in a small basin of plaster of Paris, four inches deep and five inches in diameter, having a cover of the same material carefully luted round with clay; these were buried at the same time and in the same place with the blocks of stone, and on being examined at the same time with them in December 1826, two of the Toads were dead, the other two alive, but much emaciated. We can only collect from this experiment, that a thin plate of plaster of Paris is permeable to air in a sufficient degree to maintain the life of a Toad for thirteen months.

"In the 19th Vol., No. I, p. 167, of _Sillimans American Journal of Science and Arts_, David Thomas, Esq. has published some observations on Frogs and Toads in stone and solid earth, enumerating several authentic and well-attested cases. These, however, amount to no more than a repetition of the facts so often stated and admitted to be true, viz., that torpid reptiles occur in cavities of stone, and at the depth of many feet in soil and earth; but they state not anything to disprove the possibility of a small aperture, by which these cavities may have had communication with the external surface, and insects have been admitted.

"The attention of the discoverer is always directed more to the Toad than to the minutiae of the state of the cavity in which it was contained."

The importance of these experiments, the care with which they were instituted, the deserved reputation of the experimenter, and the philosophic character of his inferences, will, I trust, apologise for the extent of this quotation. I do not think, however, that the question is settled by them; and I will venture to make one or two comments on the facts and on the observations.

Dr Buckland allows that the circumstances of the incarceration of his Toads were not natural. This seems to me an element of more importance than he attributes to it. They were shut up while in active life, after having been confined for two months on scanty food;--"So that they were in an _unhealthy and somewhat meagre_ state at the time of their imprisonment." We do not know what conditions, what natural provisions precede torpidity and are essential to it; but possibly there are some, which in these cases were compulsorily precluded by human interference. It is stated that the animals that survived to the second year were always found awake when examined,--"_never in a state of torpor_." But Toads that had hid themselves would have been torpid during the winter months; and thus we have a sufficient proof that a natural condition of body had been by some means prevented. The experiment would be much more fair to the Toad, and much more conclusive to me, if the animal were inclosed during the depth of its winter-sleep, care being taken to handle it as little as possible.

As it was, however, _most of the Toads_ inclosed in the limestone _survived upwards of thirteen months_. This surely is a very remarkable fact. Take the case of No. 9. Here was a Toad, nearly full grown, which had been shut up in a stone cell, covered with a plate of glass carefully luted down all round, so as to exclude air, buried under three feet of earth, so as to exclude the smallest gleam of light; yet, at the expiration of thirteen months, the cell being examined in winter, when normally all Toads ought to be sound asleep, this Toad was wide awake, not in the least emaciated, but so thriving in its strange dungeon as actually to have made 128 grains of flesh! to have actually increased in weight at the rate of 12-1/2 per cent.!

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 coute._ 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, antennae, &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 Vespadae, 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 Linnaeus 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.

"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.)[111] 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_!"[112]

[97] Bell's _Brit. Rept._ (1839), 112.

[98] _Zoologist_, 614.

[99] _Zool._, 1879.

[100] _Zool._, 3632.

[101] _Zool._, 3808.

[102] _Zool._, 3848.

[103] _Zool._, 3904.

[104] _Zool._, 5959.

[105] _Zool._, 6537.

[106] _Ibid._, 6565.

[107] Richardson's _Borderer's Table Book_, iii. 92.

[108] _Zool._, 3266.

[109] _Zool._, 6941.

[110] _Zool._, 613.

[111] See page 183, _ante_.

[112] _Zool._, 4245.

V.

HYBERNATION OF SWALLOWS.

What becomes of our swallows in the winter? They migrate, you reply, to a warmer parallel. That is true, no doubt; though there have not been wanting naturalists of respectable name who have maintained that none of them ever leave the country. No doubt, however, they do migrate; but is this true of the entire body, or only of a portion? That the whole hirundinal population--swifts, swallows, martins, and bank-martins--disappear from view, every one knows; for who ever saw any of the tribe wheeling and traversing through the sky in the frosts of January or February? But so do the Bats and the Butterflies. Now, the Bats hybernate with us, concealing themselves in crevices, caves, hollow trees, unused buildings, and similar places; so do the house-flies; so do the butterflies, some species at least, and many other insects. Do the Swallows hybernate? That they do is a very old opinion; and those homely but wide-spread rhymes that record so many accepted facts in popular natural history, record _this_ as a fact. Our rustic children sing--

"The bat, the bee, the butterfly,
The cuckoo and the swallow,
The corn-crake and the wheat-ear,
They all sleep in the hollow."

Local variations--what we may call _lectiones variae_--exist; for example, in the south-east of our island, the third line runs,

"The corn-crake and the _nightingale_."

In the north of Europe an opinion has long prevailed that the Swallows not only hybernate in a state of torpidity, but, like the frogs and toads, retire to the bottoms of pools to spend that dreary season. In Berger's "Calendar of Flora," published in the _Am{oe}nitates Academicae_, vol. iv., he puts down as the phenomenon proper to the 22d of September, "_Hirundo submergitur_," talking, as Gilbert White remarks, as familiarly of the Swallows going under water, as he would of his poultry going to roost at sunset. Klein, and even Linnaeus himself, adopted this strange opinion, which was considered to rest upon good testimony, and that not only of the illiterate and unobservant. Etmuller, who was Professor of Anatomy and Botany at Leipsig in the middle of the seventeenth century, says, "I remember to have found more than a bushel would hold of Swallows closely clustered among the reeds of a fish-pond under the ice, all of them to appearance dead, but with the heart still pulsating." And Derham, the acute author of "Physico-theology," citing this statement, adds, "We had at a meeting of the Royal Society, February 12, 1713, a further confirmation of Swallows retiring under water in the winter from Dr Colas, a person very curious in these matters, who, speaking of their way of fishing in the northern parts by breaking holes and drawing their nets under the ice, saith, that he saw sixteen Swallows so drawn out of the Lake of Lamrodt, and about thirty out of the king's great pond in Rosneilen; and that at Schlehitten, near a house of the Earl of Dohna, he saw two Swallows just come out of the waters, that could, scarcely stand, being very wet and weak, with their wings hanging on the ground; and that he observed the Swallows to be often weak for some days after their appearance."[113]

The Academy of Upsal received the winter submersion of the Swallows as an undoubted fact, and even Cuvier admits as "well authenticated, that they fall into a lethargic state during winter, and even that they pass that season at the bottom of marshy waters."[114] One would think that a zoological statement which Linnaeus and Cuvier accepted, must be fact; yet it remains utterly improbable. In Germany, a reward of an equal weight in silver was publicly offered to any one who should produce Swallows found under water, but we are assured that no one was found to claim the money.

We may safely dismiss the notion of submersion till better authenticated; but that of torpidity is still open to examination. Statements to the effect that quantities of Swallows in a death-like condition have been found in hollow trees, holes in cliffs, banks, &c., are even more common than those of their submersion; and they seem to obtain credence in all the temperate or cold regions where the Swallows are found. It is hard to think that a persuasion so widely diffused can be wholly groundless.

Peter Collinson, the friend and correspondent of Linnaeus, communicated to the Royal Society the following statement by M. Achard:--"In the latter end of March I took my passage down the Rhine to Rotterdam. A little below Basel, the south bank of the river was very high and steep, of a sandy soil, sixty or eighty feet above the water.

"I was surprised at seeing, near the top of the cliff, some boys tied to ropes, hanging down doing something. The singularity of these adventurous boys, and the business they so daringly attempted, made us stop our navigation, to inquire into the meaning of it. The waterman told us they were reaching the holes in the cliffs for Swallows or Martins, which took refuge in them, and remained there all the winter, until warm weather, and then they came abroad.

"The boys being let down by their comrades to the holes, put in a long rammer, with a screw at the end, such as is used to unload guns, and, twisting it about, drew out the birds. For a trifle I procured some of them. When I first had them, they seemed stiff and lifeless; I put one of them in my bosom, between my skin and shirt, and laid another on a board, the sun shining full and warm upon it; and one or two of my companions did the like. That in my bosom revived in about a quarter of an hour; feeling it move, I took it out to look at it; but perceiving it not sufficiently come to itself, I put it in again; in about another quarter, feeling it flutter pretty briskly, I took it out, and admired it. Being now perfectly recovered, before I was aware, it took its flight; the covering of the boat prevented me from seeing where it went. The bird on the board, though exposed to a full sun, yet, I presume from a chilliness of the air, did not revive so as to be able to fly."[115]

On this account I may observe that Collinson would hardly have been the medium of this communication, unless he had been satisfied of the probity of his correspondent. The time was "the latter end of March," a fortnight at least before the arrival of the Sand Martin--the earliest of our migrants; and the whole enterprise of the boys, and the familiarity of the waterman with the circumstance, as well as their assertions, shew that they, at least, had no doubt about this being a case of hybernation. Yet the repeated exploration of the Sand Martin's burrows in this country, in winter, has produced no birds.

White of Selborne, who was very much interested in the solution of this question, mentions two instances--both, however, on hearsay evidence. A clergyman assured him that, when he was a boy, some workmen, in pulling down the battlements of a tower, early in spring, found two or three Swifts _among the rubbish_, which appeared dead, but revived in the warmth. The other account was that of the fall of a portion of the cliff near Brighton in winter, when many persons found Swallows among the rubbish; but here even White's informant did not see the birds, but was merely told of them.[116]

Bishop Stanley, in his "Familiar History of Birds," has collected some stories which appear circumstantial enough, if we could be quite sure they were authentic; on which point the good bishop seems to give the weight of his own character, since he observes that they are "cases which have come to our knowledge, on the most respectable authority."

"On the 16th of November 1826, a gentleman residing near Loch Awe, in Scotland, having occasion to examine an out-house, used as a cart-shed, saw an unusual appearance upon one of the rafters which crossed and supported the thatched roof. Upon mounting a ladder, he found to his astonishment that this was a group of Chimney-swallows (_Hirundo rustica_) which had taken up their winter quarters in this exposed situation. The group consisted of five, completely torpid: and none of the tribe to which they belonged had been seen for five or six weeks previously: he took them in his hand, as they lay closely and coldly huddled together, and conveyed them to his house, in order to exhibit them as objects of curiosity to the other members of his family. For some time they remained to all appearance lifeless; but the temperature of the apartment into which they were carried being considerably raised by a good turf fire, they gradually evinced symptoms of reanimation; and in less than a quarter of an hour, finding that they were rather rudely handled, all of them recovered, so as to fly impatiently round the room, in search of some opening by which they might escape. The window was thrown up, and they soon found their way into the fields, and were never seen again. A similar circumstance, though, from the place of its discovery it must refer probably to Sand Martins, was related by a gentleman who found two Swallows in a sand-bank at Newton, near Stirling, quite dormant.

"Again, about half-a-dozen Swallows were found a few years ago, in a torpid state, in the trunk of a hollow tree, by a countryman, who brought them to a respectable person, by whom they were deposited in a desk, where they remained forgotten till the following spring, when, one morning, on hearing a noise, he opened the desk, and found one of them fluttering about: the others also began to shew signs of life, and upon being placed out of doors in the sun, speedily arranged their plumage, took wing, and disappeared.

"On the 2d of November 1829, at Loch Ransa, in the island of Arran, a man, while digging in a place where a pond had been lately drained off, discovered two Swallows in a state of torpor; on placing them near the fire, they recovered. One unfortunately escaped, but the other was kept by the man, for the purpose of shewing it to some scientific persons."

In North America there is a curious species of Swift, (_Acanthylis pelasgia_,) which associates in immense flocks to roost in chimneys and hollow trees. It is the popular belief that these birds spend the winter in a torpid condition in their roosting trees. Williams, in his "History of Vermont," speaks of a large hollow elm which had been for many years appropriated to this purpose. A farmer resident close to the tree was persuaded that it was the winter dwelling-place of the Swifts, and avoided felling it on that account. About the 1st of May, he always saw them come out of it in large numbers, about the middle of the day, and in a short time return. Then, as the weather grew warmer, they came forth in increased multitudes in the morning, and did not return till night. A similar account was given of another tree: the first appearance of the Swifts in spring was always their emergence from its hollow trunk, and their last, in September, was their ingress. Yet Wilson, the great ornithologist of America, argues, not without some heat, yet with considerable force, that such a belief is erroneous. Erroneous, certainly, the supposition that the whole body of the Chimney-swifts so hybernate; but whether a few do or do not, his arguments do not quite conclude.