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ALBERT R. MANN
LIBRARY

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Nes! OF THE SYLVIA
SUTORIA. UNDERGROUND WASP’S NEST.

COVERED APIARY,.

THE

BEE AND WHITE ANTS,

THEIR MANNERS AND HABITS;

~
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS OF

ANIMAL INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

By DIONYSIUS LARDNER, D.C.L.,
Formerly Professor of Natural Philosophy and Astronomy in University College, London.

“ye ¢

6

FROM

& “THE MUSEUM OF SCIENCE AND ART.”

> WITH ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS.

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a3 LOCKWOOD & CO., 7, STATIONERS’ HALL COURT,
. LUDGATE HILL.

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CONTENTS.

—+—

*.* As this book is not paged, the figures in the Table of Contents refer to
Paragraphs, and not to Pages. Each Subject is separately

Paragraphed.

THE BEE.

Cuap. I.—1. Moral suggested by
economy of nature.—2. Antiquity
of apiarian researches— Hebrew
scriptures — Aristomachus — Phi-
liscus — Aristotle — Virgil. — 3.
Modern observers.—4. Huber.—
5. His servant Burnens—curious
history of his blindness.—6, His
wife and son.—7. Pursuit of his
researches.—8. Structure of in-
sects.—9. Plan'of their anatomy.
—10. Hyfrenoptera.—11. Va-
rieties of ‘bees.—12. Hive bee.—
18. The queen—her numerous
suitors. —14. Her chastity and
fidelity.—15. Her fertility.—16.
Her first laying.—17. Royal eggs.
—18. Royal chamber.—19. Effect
of her postponement of her nup-
tials.—20. The drones,—21. The
workers, — 22, Structure and
members of the bee.—23. Mouth
and appendages.—24. Use of pro-
boscis. —25.—Structure of tongue.
—26. Honey-bag.—27. Stomach.
—28. Antenne.—29. Wings.—
30. Legs.—31. Feet.—32. Sting.
—33. Organs of fecundation and
reproduction. —34. Number of
eggs produced by the queen.

ITS CHARACTER AND MANNERS.

Cuap. II.—35. This fecundity not.

anomalous.—36. Bee architecture.
—37. Social condition of a people
indicated by their buildings. 38.
This test applied to the bee.—39.
Individual and collective habits, —
40. Solitary bees. —41. Structure
of their nests.—42. Situation of
nests. — 43. Anthidium mani-
catum.—44. Expedient for keep-
ing nest warm.—45. Clothier bee.
—46. Carpenter bee.—47. Mason
bee. —48. Expedient to protect.
the nest.—49. Upholsterer bee.—
50. Hangings and carpets of her
rooms.—51. Leaf-cutter bees.—
52. Method of making their nest.
—53. Process of cutting the leaves.
—54, Hive-bee.—55. Structure of
the comb.—56. Double layer of
cells —57. Pyramidal bases. —58.
Illustrative figures.—59. Single
cells.—60. Combination of cells.
—61. Great advantages of hexa-
gonal form. —62. Economy of
space and material.—63. Solidity
of structure. — 64. Geometrical
problem of the comb solved.—65.
Expedient to secure the sides and
bases of the cells.

CONTENTS.

Caap. III.—66. Drone cells and
worker cells.—67. Store cells.—
68. Construction of combs.—69.
Wax-makers also produce honey. |

—70. First operation of the wax- |

makers. — 71. Process of the
foundress. — 72. Kneading the
wax.—73. Formation of first wall.
—74. Correction of mistakes.—
75. Dimensions of first wall.—76.
Operations of the nurses.— 77.
Bases of cells. —78. Wax-makers
resume their work—Completion
of pyramidal bases. —79. Pyra-
midal partition.—80. Formation
of cells.—81-82. Arrangement of
combs.—83. Sides not parallel. —
84. Process not merely mechanical.
—85-86. Process of construction.
— 87. Labour successive. — 88.
Dimensions of cells.—89. Their
number. —90. Bee-bread. — 91.
Pap for young.—92. Food adapted
to age. —93. Transformation.—
94, Humble-bees—females. —95.
Their nursing workers. — 96.
Transformation.—97. How the tem-
perature of the cocoons is main-
tained. —98. Anecdote related by

Huber.—99. Remarkable care of

the nurses.—100. Heat evolved
in respiration by the hive-bee.—
101. Cross alleys connecting the
streets —102. First laying of the
queen in Spring.—103. Her royal
suite.—104. The eggs.

Cuap. IV.—105. The larve.—106.
Transformation of worker nymph.
—107. Worker cells.—108. Treat-

ment of a young worker.—109. Of

the drone.—110. Drone nymph.
—1l11. Royal cell and nympb.—
112. Its treatment.—1138. Honey
cells—114. Pasturage—progress

of work.—115. Construction of

comb.—116. Remarkable organ-
isation. — 117. Magnitude and
weight of bees.—118. Character
of queen.—119. Royal jealousy.—
120. Principle of primogeniture.—
121. Assassination of rivals. —122.
Battle of virgin queens. — 123,
Reason of mutual hostility. —124.
Result of the battles. —125. Battle

of married queens. —126. Battle
of a virgin with a fertile queen.—
127. Sentinels at the gates. —Treat-
ment of an intruding queen.—128.
Remarkable proceeding of bees
that have lost their queen—effect
of her restoration.—129. Effect of
the introduction of a new queen.
—130. Policy of the hive.—131.
Operations at the beginning of a
season.

Cuap. V.—132. Change of state of
the queen after laying. — 133.
First swarm Jed by her majesty.
— 1384. Proceedings of the first
swarm.—135. Loyalty and fidelity
to the queen—remarkable expe-
riment of Dr. Warder.—1386. In-
terregnum after swarming.—137.
The princess royal.—138. Second
swarm —its effects. —139. Suc-
cessive swarms.—140. Production
of a factitious queen—Schirach’s
discovery. —141. Factitious queens
dumb.—142, Factitious princesses
allowed to engage in mortal com-
bat.—143. Homage only offered
to a married queen.—144. Respect
shown to her corpse.—145. Func-
tions of the drones.—146. Their
treatment,—147. Their massacre
described by Huber.—148. Case
in which no massacre took place.
—149. Character and habits of
the workers.—150. Products of
their labours. —151. Process of
work.—152. Honey and pollen—
nectar and ambrosia.—153. Bee
the priest who celebrates the mar-
riage of the flowers.—154. Why
the bee devotes each exeursion to
one species of flower.—l55. Un-
loading the workers. — 156.
Storage of spare provision. —157.
Radius of the circle of excursion.

Cuapr. VI.—158. How they fly
straight back to the hive —
manner of discovering the nests
of wild bees in New England.—
159. Average number of daily
excursions, —160. Bee pasturage
—transported to follow it—in
Egypt and Greece.—161. Neat-
ness of the bee.—162. Its ene-

CONTENTS.

mies.—163. Death’s-head moth.
—164, Measures of defence
adopted by Huber.—165. Mea-
sures adopted by the bees. —
166. Wars between different
hives.—167. Demolition of the
defensive works when not needed.
—168. Senses of insects.—169.
Senses of the bee.—170. Smell.
—171. Experiments ot Huber.
—172. Remarkable tenacity of
memory.—173. Experiments to
ascertain the organ of smell.—
174. Repugnancy of the bee for
its own poison. — 175, Their
method of ventilating the hive.
—176. Their antipathy against
certain persons. —177. Against
red and black-haired persons.—
178. Difference of opinion as to
the functions of the antenna,—

179. Organs of taste. — 180.
Hearing : curious anecdotes. —
181. Vision. — 182. Peculiar

characters of queens; royal old
maid. — 183. Drone - bearing
queens. — 184. Change of their
instincts and manners. — 185.
Their treatment by the workers.
—186. Nuptials never celebrated

in the hive.—187, Effect of am-
putating the royal antenna.

Cuap. VII. —188. Apiculture. —

189. Suitable localities and pas-
turage.—190, The Apiary,—191.
Out-door Apiary. — 192. Bee-
house.—193. Cabinet bee-houses.
—194. Form and material of
hives. —195. Village hive.—196.
English hive. — 197. Various
forms of hives.—198. Various
forms of bee-boxes, —199. Bee-
dress and other accessories of
apiculture. — 200. Purchase of
hives. — 201. Honey harvest.—
202. Honey and wax important
articles of commerce. — 203.
Various sorts of wild honey.—
204. Periodical migration of bees.
—205. Poisoned honey. —- 206.
Maladies of bees.—207. Curious
case of abortive brood. — 208.
Superstition of bee cultivators.
-—209. Enemies of bees.—210.
Attacks of bees when provoked.
—211. Anecdote of Mungo Park.
—212. Anecdote of Thorley.—
213. Bee wars. — 214. Curious
case of a battle.

THE WHITE ANTS. THEIR MANNERS AND HABITS.

Cuap, IL—1. Their classification. —
2. Their mischievous habits.—
8. The constitution of their so-
cieties.—4. Chiefly confined to
the tropics.—5. Figures of the
king and queen.— 6. Of the
evorkers and soldiers.—7. Treat-
ment of the king and queen.—
8. Habits of the workers.—9.
Of the soldiers. —10. The nymphs.
—11. Physiological characters.—
12. First establishment of a
colony.—18. Their use as food
and medicine.—14, The election
of the king and queen. —15.
Their subsequent treatment. —
16. The impregnation of the
queen.—17, Figure of the preg-
nant queen.—18. Her vast fer-

tility. —19. Care bestowed upon
her eggs by the workers, — 20.
The royal body-guard.—21. The
habitation of the colony.— 22.
Process of its construction.—23.
Its chambers, corridors, and ap-
proaches.—24. Vertical section,
showing its internal arrangement.
—25. View of these habitations.
—26. Contrivances in their con-
struction. — 27. Use made of
them by the wild cattle.—28.
Used to obtain views to seaward.
--29. Use of domic summit for
the preservation of the colqny.—
80. Position, form, and arrange-
ment of the royal chamber—its
gradual enlargement for the ac-
commodation of the sovereigns.—

CONTENTS.

31. Its doors.—32. The sur-
rounding antechambers and corri-
dors.—33, The nurseries. —34.
Their walls and partitions.—35.
Their position varied according to
the exigencies of the colony.—36,
The continual repair and altera-
tions of the habitation. — 37.
Peculiar mould which coats the
walls.—38. The store-rooms for
provisions — the inclined paths
which approach them—the curious
gothic arches which surmount the
apartments.—39. The subterra-
nean passages, galleries, and
tunnels.—40, The covered ways
by which the habitation is ap-
proached.—41. The gradients or
slopes which regulate these co-
vered ways.—42. The bridges by
which they pass from one part of
the habitation to another.—43.
Reflections on these wonderful
works.—44, The tenderness of
their bodies render covered ways
necessary. —45. When forced to
travel above ground they make a
covered way—if it be accidentally
destroyed they will reconstruct it.
Cuap. Il.—46. Turrets built by the
Termes mordax and the Termes
atrox.—47. Description of their
structure. —48. Their king, queen,
worker, and soldier.—49. Inter-
nal structure of their habitation.
—50. Nests of the Termes arbo-
rum.—51l. Process of their con-
struction.—52. Hill nests on the
Savannahs. —53. The Termes luci-
fugus—the organisation of their
societies. — 54. Habits of the
workers and soldiers—the mate-
rials they use for building.—
55. Their construction of tunnels.
—56. Nests of the Termes arbo-

rum in the roofs of houses. —57.
_ Destructive habits of the Termes
bellicosus in excavating all species
of wood-work—entire houses de-
stroyed by them.—58. Curious
process by which they fill with
mortar the excavations which they
make—destruction of Mr. Smeath-
man’s microscope.—59. Destruc-
tion of shelves and wainscoting. —
60. Their artful process to escape
observation.— 61. Anecdotes of
them by Kempfer and Humboldt.
—62. Destruction of the Gover-
nor’s house at Calcutta—destruc-
tion by them of a British ship of
the line.—63. Their manner of
attacking timber in the open air
—their wonderful power of de-
stroying fallen timber.—64. The
extraordinary behaviour of the
soldiers when a nest is attacked.
—65. Their rage and fury against
those who attack them.—66. Their
industry and promptitude in re-
pairing the damage of their habi-
tation. —67. The vigilance of the
soldiers during the process of re-
pair.—68, Effects of a second
attack on their habitation, con-
duct of the soldiers.—-69. Diffi-
culty of investigating the structure
of their habitations — obstinate
opposition of the soldiers—dis-
covery of the royal chamber—
fidelity of the subjects to the
sovereign—curious experiment of
Mr. Smeathman.—70. Curious
example of the repair of a par-
tially destroyed nest.—71. The
marching Termites—curious ob-
servation of their proceedings by
Smeathman—remarkable conduct
of the soldiers on the occasion.

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

Cuap. I.—1. Instinct defined.—
2. Independent of experience or
practice.—3. Sometimes directed
by appetite.—4. A simple faculty

independent of memory.—5. In-
stinctive distinguished from intel-
ligent acts.—6. Instinct and in-
telligence always co-exist, — 7.

CONTENTS.

The proportion of instinct to in-
telligence increases as we descend
in the organic chain.—8. Opinions
of Descartes and Buffon—Charac-
ter of the dog.—9. Researches
and observations of Frederic
Cuvier.—10. Causes of the errors
of Buffon, Leroy, and
Condillac.—11. Degrees of intelli-
gence observed in different orders
of animals.—12. Accordance of
this with their cerebral develop-
ment.—13. Opposition between
intelligence and instinct. —14.
Consequences of detining their
limits.—15. Example of instinct
in ducklings.—16. In the con-
struction of honeyeomb.—17. The
snares of the ant-lion.—18. Their
mode of construction and use.—
19. Spiders’ nets.—20. Fishes
catching insects.—21. Provident
economy of the squirrel. — 22.
Haymaking by the Siberian lago-
mys.—238. Habitations constructed
by animals.—24. The house of
the hamster.—25. The habitation
of the mygale, with its door.—26.
Habitations of caterpillars.—27.
Clothing of the larva of the moth.
—28. Dwellings of animals which
are torpid at certain seasons.—
29. The Alpine marmot—Curious
structure of their habitations.—
30. Method of constructing them.
—31. Singular habits of these
animals.—32. Instincts of migra-
tion.—33. Irregular and occa-
sional migration. —34. General
assembly preparatory to migration.
—35. Occasional migration of
monkeys.
Cuap. Il.—36. Migration of the
ings.—37. Vast migration
of field-mice of Kamtschatka.—38.
Instincts conservative of species
stronger than those conservative
of individuals.—39-40. Instincts
of insects for the preservation of
their posthumous offspring. —41-
42. Transformations of insects—
Precautions in the depositions of
eggs. —43. Habitation constructed
by Liparis chrysorrhea for its

young.—44, Examples mentioned
by RKeaumur and Degeer.—4é.
Expedients for the exclusion of
light from the young.—46. Exam-
ple of the common white butterfly.
—47. Manceuvres of the gadfly to
get its eggs into the horse’s sto-
mach.—43, The ichneumon.—49.
Its use in preventing the undue
multiplication of certain species.
—50. Its form and habits.—51.
The nourishment of its larve.—
52. The sexton beetle.—53. Their
processes in burying carcasses,—
54, Anecdote of them related by
Strauss.—55. Singular anecdote
of the Gymnopleurus pilularius.—
56. Such acts indicate reasoning.
—57. Anecdote of a sphex told
by Darwin.—58. Indications of
intelligence in this case. — 59.
Anecdote of a sexton beetle related
by Gleditsch.—60. Indications of
reason in this case.—61. Anec—
dote of ants related by Reaumur.
—62. Anecdote of ants related by
Dr. Franklin.—63. Anecdote of
the bee related by Mr. Wailes.—
64. Anecdote of the humble bee
by Huber. —65. Memory of insects.
—66. Recognition of home by the
bee.—67. Singular conduct of the
queen.—68. Rogers's lines on this
subject.—69. Error of the poet.
—70. Anecdote of bees by Mr.
Stickney.—71. Instinct of the pom-
pilides.—72. The carpenter bee.

Cuap III.—73. Habitations for the

young provided more frequently
than for the adults.—74. Birds’
nests.—75. Nest of the baya.—
76. Nest of the Sylvia sutoria.—
77. Anti-social instinct of car-
nivorous animals.—78. Their oc-
casional association for predaceous
excursions.—79. Assemblies of
migratory animals.—80. Example
of the migratory pigeons of Ameri-
ca.—81. The beaver.—82. Their
habitations. —83. Process of build-
ing their villages.—84. These acts
all instinctive.—85. Low degree
of intelligence of the beaver.—86.
Method of catching the animal.—

CONTENTS.

87. Social instinct of birds—The
republican. — 88. Habitation of
wasps. — 89. Formation of the
colony — Birth of neuters.—90.
Males and females.—91. Struc-
ture of the nest.—92, Form and
structure of the comb.—93. Pro-
cess of building the nest and con-
structing the combs.—94. Division
of labour among the society. —95.
Number aad appropriation of the
cells.—96, Doors of exit and
entrance.—97. Avenue to the en-
trance.—98. Inferior animals not
devoid of intelligence.—99. Ex-
amples of memory.—100. Memory
of the elephant—Anecdote.—101.
Memory of fishes.—102, Exam-
ples of reasoning in the dog.—103.
Singular anecdote of a watch-dog.
—104. Low degree of intelligence
of rodents and ruminants proved
by Cuvier’s observations.—105.
Intelligence of the pachydermata
—the elephant—the horse—the
pig—the pecari—the wild boar.—
106. The quadrumana. —107.
Cuvier’s observations on the

ourang-outang—marks of his great
intelligence.

Cuap. IV.—108. Anecdotes of the

ourang-outang. —109. Analogy
of the skeleton of the ourang-
outang to that of man.—110. Of
the brain to the human brain.—
111. Intelligence of the wolf.—
112, Anecdote of the hawk, the
cat, the eagle—113. Of the dog.
—114, Of the bear.—115. Intelli-
gence of animals decreases with
age. — 116. Man distinguished
from other animals by the degree
of intelligence.—117. Lower ani-
mals are not endowed with reflec-
tion. —118. Inferior animals have
methods of intercommunication as
a substitute for language.—119.
Examples in the cases of marmots,
flamingoes, and swallows.—120.
Intercommunication of ants. —
121. Example in their mutual
wars.—122. Acts’ which cannot
be explained either by instinct or
intelligence. — 123. Carrier - pi-
geons. —124. Domesticity and
tameness.

Fig. 5:1.—Uncovered Apiary.

THE BEE.
ITS CHARACTER AND MANNERS.
oe
CHAPTER I.

1. Moral suggested by economy of nature.—2. Antiquity of apiarian

researches—Hebrew scriptures—Aristomachus — Philiscus—Aristotle
—Virgil. — 3. Modern observers. — 4+. Huber. —5. His servant
Burnens—curious history of his blindness.— 6. His wife and son.—
7. Pursuit of his researches.—8. Structure of insects.—9. Plan of
their anatomy.—10. Hymenoptera.—11. Varieties of bees.—12.
Hive bee.—13. The queen—her numerous suitors.—14, Her chastity
and fidelity. —15. Her feriility.—16. Her first laying—17. Royal
eggs.—18. Royal chamber.—19. Effect of her postponement of her
nuptials —20. The drones.—21. The workers.—22. Structure and
members of the bee.—23. Mouth and appendages—24. Use of
proboscis. —25. Structure of tongue.—26. Honey-bag.—27. Stomach.
—28. Antenne.—29. Wings.—30. Legs.—31. Feet.—32. Sting.—
33. Organs of fecundation and reproduction.—34. Number of eggs
produced by the queen.

1. Nature offers herself to human contemplation under no
aspects so fascinating, as those in which she renders manifest the
provident care of the Creator for the well-being of his creatures.
The spectacle of infinite wisdom directing infinite power to bound-
Lanpyer’s Muszvm oF Scrence. B 1

No. 118.

THE BEE.

less beneficence, never fails to excite in well-constituted minds the
most pleasurable and grateful emotions. Such views of Nature
are the truest and purest fountains of that reverential love,
which so eminently distinguishes the Christian from all other
forms of worship.

In the notices from time to time given in this series of the
stupendous works of creation presented in the heavens, and of
the benevolent care displayed in the supply of the physical wants
of the inhabitants, not of the terrestrial globe * alone, but also of
the planets,t which, in company with the earth, revolve round
the sun, numerous examples of such beneficence are presented.
The vast dimensions of these works, as well as the great import-
ance and the countless numbers of the objects to be provided for,
leading the mind naturally to expect a system of provisions esta-
blished on a corresponding scale, their display, while it excites
equal admiration and reverence, produces a less intense sentiment
of wonder. When, however, we turn our view from the vast
works of creation exhibited in the celestial regions, to the more
minute ones presented in the organised world around us, our
wonder is as much excited as our admiration, at beholding the
same traces of Divine care in the economy of an insect, as were
observed in the structure and motions of a planet. There are the
same infinite wisdom and foresight, the same unapproachable
skill, the same boundless goodness directed to the maintenance of
the species and the well-being of the individual, as we have seen
displayed in the provisions for a globe a thousand times larger
than the earth, or for a cluster of worlds millions of times more
numerous than the entire solar system, sun, earth, planets, moons,
and all! We have thus before us a demonstration that as the
most stupendous works of the universe—the expression of whose
dimensions surpasses the powers of arithmetic—are not above
Divine control and superintendence, so neither are the most insig-
nificant of creatures—whose existence and structure can be made
evident only by the microscope—below the same benevolent care.

2. Among the numerous examples, suggestive of reflections
such as these, presented by the insect-world, there is none more
remarkable than the little creature, to the character and economy ,
of which we shall devote this notice. How true this is, is proved
by the examples of those who, in all ages of the world, have de-
voted their labours to the observation and investigation of its
character and habits. In the Hebrew Scriptures numerous allu-
sions to the bee show that, in those remote times, it had already

* See Tracts on the Earth, Geography, Terrestrial Heat, Air, Water, &e.
+ See the Planets, are they inhabited? the Sun, the Moon, the Stellar
Universe, &c.

ARISTOTLE—VIRGIL— HUBER.

been a subject of attention with the wisest and the best. Pliny
relates that Aristomachus of Soli in Cilicia devoted fifty-eight
years of his life to the study of the bee; and that Philiscus, the
Thracian, passed so large a part of his time in the woods observing
its habits, that he acquired the title of Acrius. Among his
numerous researches in natural history, Aristotle assigned a con-
siderable share to the bee; and Virgil devoted to it the fourth
book of his Georgics :—

“« Protenus aérii mellis ccelestia dona
Exsequar. Hance etiam, Mecenas, adspice partem.
Admiranda tibi levium spectacula rerum,
Magnanimosque duces, totiusque ordine gentis
Mores, et studia, et populos, et preelia dicam.
In tenui labor ; at tenuis non gloria, si quem
Numina leva sinunt, auditque vocatus Apollo.”
i Grora. IV. 1—7.

‘¢ The gifts of Heaven my following song pursues,
Aérial honey, and ambrosial dews.
Mecenas, read this other part that sings
Embattled squadrons and advent’rous kings—
Their arms, their arts, their manners, I disclose,
And how they war and whence the people rose.
Slight is the subject, but the praise not small
If Heaven assist, and Phoebus hear my call.”

DrypDeEn.

8. In modern times the bee has been the subject of the obser-
vations and researches of some of the most eminent naturalists,
among whom may be mentioned Swammerdam (1670), Maraldi
(1712), Ray, Reaumur (1740), Linneus, Bennet, Schirach, John
Hunter, Huber—father and son,—and more recently Kirby, whose
monograph upon the English bees may be regarded as a classic in
natural history.

4, Among these, the elder Huber stands pre-eminent, not only
for the extent and importance of his contributions to the history of
the insect, but for the remarkable circumstances and difficulties
under which his researches were prosecuted. Visited with the
privation of sight at the early age of seventeen, his observations
were made with the eyes and his experiments performed with the
hands of others; and, notwithstanding this discouragement and
obstacles which might well have been regarded as insurmountable,
he continued his labours for forty years, during which he made
those discoveries which have conferred upon him such celebrity.

5. Happily for science, Huber, after losing his sight and at the
commencement of his researches, had in his service a domestic,
named Francois Burnens, a native of the Pays de Vaud, in Swit-
zerland, Reading and writing constituted the extent of the

B2 3

THE BEE.

education of this person; but nature had bestowed upon him
faculties which, with better opportunities, would have rendered
him an eminent naturalist. Huber commenced by employing him
as a reader.

He read to his master various works on physics, and, among
others, those of Reaumur, in which the admirable observations of
that naturalist on the bee are so clearly and beautifully stated.
Huber soon perceived by the observations and reflections of his
reader, and by the consequences he deduced from what he read,
that he had at his disposition no ordinary person, and resolved to
profit by him. He accordingly procured the means of prosecut-
ing a series of observations on the economy of the bee, with the
aid of the eyes, the hands, and the intelligence of Burnens. All
the observations of Reaumur were first repeated, and the accord-
ance of the phenomena, as described by Burnens, with those
which had been recorded by Reaumur, gave Huber full confi-
dence; and the master and servant, quitting the beaten path,
entered upon new ground, and during a period of fifteen years,
prosecuted those researches in the natural history and economy of
the bee, which, being committed to writing by the hand of Bur-
nens at the dictation of Huber, were published in one volume
about 1792, in form of letters addressed by Huber to Bonnet.

6. Soon after this, Huber lost his invaluable colleague, for
servant he had long ceased to be. Burnens was recalled by
family ties to his native place, where the personal estimation in
which he was held caused him to be raised to a high position in
the local magistracy.

Previously to this, Huber had the good fortune to consolidate his
domestic happiness by marriage. ‘‘ My separation from my faithful
and zealous Burnens,” said Huber, ‘‘ which was not the least cruel
of the misfortunes with which I was visited, was, however, softened
by the satisfaction which I felt in observing Nature through the eyes
of the being who was dearest to me, and with whom I could com-
mune with pleasure on the most elevated topics. But what more
than all the rest contributed to attach me to natural history, was
the taste manifested by my son for that subject. I explained to
him the results of my observations and researches. He expressed
the regret he felt that labours which would, as it seemed to him,
so deeply interest naturalists should remain buried in my port-
folio, Perceiving, meanwhile, the secret repugnance that I felt
against the task of reducing them to order, he proposed to take
charge of that labour.”

7. From that time our great naturalist was again consoled, by
having at his di lt ir of in pl f i

g at his disposal two pair of eyes in place of one. The wife
and has son, animated by a common enthusiasm, and urged by

STRUCTURE OF INSECTS.

conjugal and filial devotion, more than compensated for the loss
of Burnens; and the observations and researches were pursued
with unabated zeal, and were finally collected and published in
the second volume, which appeared about 1814, more than twenty
years after the publication of the first.*

8. Since any explanation, however popular and familiar, of the
economy and habits of the bee, must necessarily involve very
frequent references to its structure and organs, it will be con-
venient in the first instance briefly to explain the terms, by which
naturalists have designated its several parts.

The body of insects in general consists of a series of annular
segments, so articulated one to another as to allow more or less
flexibility. It consists of three chief parts, the head, the thoraz,
and the abdomen.

The head consists of a simple segment, the thorax of three, and
the abdomen of a greater number, sometimes as many as nine,
Each segment is distinguished by its ventral or inferior, and
dorsal or superior part.

Insects have three pairs of legs, which are inserted in the sides
of the ventral parts of the three thoracic segments of the body;
and generally two pairs of wings, which are inserted in the sides
of the dorsal parts of the second and third thoracic segments,
counting from the anterior to the posterior part of the body.

A pair of members, called antenna, are inserted in the sides of
the head, varying much in structure in different classes, and
in many, including the bee, have the form of slender and flexible
horns, consisting of many minute pieces articulated one to another.
These are generally presumed to be tactile organs, and are con-
sequently sometimes called feelers.

9, This description will be more easily comprehended by
reference to the annexed diagram, fig. 1, which:may be taken
as a general theoretical representation of the structure of an
insect.

As here indicated, the three thoracic segments are distinguished
as the pro-, meso-, and metathorax.

10. Insects have been classified by naturalists according to the
structure of their wings, and the order to which the bee has been
assigned, and of which it is regarded as the type, is the Hymen-
optera, a compound of two Greek words signifying membranaceous
wings.

The’ section or subsection of the order of Hymenoptera, which
in its economy and peculiar construction differs most from all
other orders of insects, has been designated by Latreille Meliifera,

* ¢ Nouvelles Observations sur les Abeilles.” Paris, 1814.
5

THE BEE.

a Latin word signifying Hoxey-Gatnerrrs; or Anthophila, a
Greek word signifying FLowER-Lovers.

Antenne
Eyes
tor
First pair of ) —— ------—-* a
legs e One ene enn Prothorax
SS ers ----- Mesothorax

First pair of) -—--
wings

Second pair . -—-—--------- my
of legs J

Metathorax

rx
Second pair) ---.---
of wings

Third pair of ) —_-—------—.
legs. S

Fig. 1.

11. How numerous are the varieties of bees may be conceived,
when it is stated that of bees found in Great Britain alone, Kirby
in his Monograph has enumerated 220 species, and other more
recent observers have increased the number to 250. The species,
however, which by its commercial importance, as well as by its
remarkable habits and social organisation, presents the greatest
interest, is the Hive Bee, to which, therefore, we shall chiefly
limit our notice.

12, The Hive bee belongs to what naturalists have denominated
the perfect societies of insects. Each community of these insects
consists of three orders of individuals distinguished by their
number, their organisation, and the respective share they take in
the common labour of the society. These are denominated seve-
rally the queen or sovereign, the males or drones, and the workers;
the latter consisting of two classes, called the waz- makers and
the nurses. A hive which contains as many as 50000 bees will
have only one queen, and not above 2000 males.

13. The queen who, as her title implies, is the acknowledged

6

QUEEN—-DRONES—WORKERS,

monarch of the hive, is distinguished from her subjects by con-
splouous personal peculiarities. Her body, fig. 2, is considerably

Fig. 2. Fig. 4.

Queen, Drone. Wax-maker,

Nurse, loaded with pollen. Drone in flight, showing
organs of fecundation.

longer than that of any of her subjects; she is distinguished by a
more measured and majestic gait, by the comparative shortness of
her wings, and the curvature of her sting. Her wings, which are
strong and sinewy, are only half the length of her body, extending
very little beyond the posterior limit of her thorax, while those of
the drones, fig. 3, and the workers, fig. 4, cover the abdomen. Her
legs are destitute of the brushes and baskets with which those of
the workers are furnished. She has no occasion for these instru-
ments of industry, since her exalted station exempts her from
labour, all her wants being munificently provided for by her
subjects. She is distinguished by her colour as much as by her
form, the black of the dorsal part of her body being much brighter
than that of the drones and workers, and the ventral parts and
legs being of dark orange or copper-colour, the hue of the hinder
being deeper than that of the other legs.

The queen, who is the only lady of the hive, enjoys the
privilege of being followed by many hundred suitors in the persons
of the drones. At the early age of two or three days she is mar-
riageable, and it rarely happens that her royal decision is long
postponed ; and, indeed, if she were not favourably disposed for
such an eyent, the anxiety of her numerous subjects ee

THE BEE.

her to it, for inno human monarchy are the hopes of succession so
anxiously cherished as in the Empire of the Hive.

14. It must not be imagined, that because a lady is thus
domesticated alone with so many hundred lovers, there is any
the least degree of laxity in the morals of the society; on the con-
trary, although she is absolutely uncontrolled, and is courted
by so many hundreds, her choice is strictly limited to one. A fine
warm sunny day is selected for the nuptials, which are celebrated
in the air. On the auspicious occasion, her majesty issuing from
the hive followed by the multitude of her suitors, rises in the air,
where she is encircled by the flight of the candidates for her
favour. Here she makes her selection, but, alas! the felicity is
brief, for the object of her choice never outlives the wedding-day.
She is, however, not the less faithful to him, and never contracts
a second marriage.

15, Though her majesty is thus left a widowed bride, in
two days after the celebration of her nuptials and the loss of
her lord, she commences to lay eggs from which a posthumous
progeny of that lord, countless in number, are destined to issue.
Of the hundreds of rejected suitors, a limited number emigrate
with the successive swarms, which from time to time leave the
overpeopled hive. Those which remain, being no longer useful to
the community, become objects of general aversion, and are finally
exterminated by a general massacre, as will presently be more
fully explained.

16. During six or eight weeks the queen constantly lays eggs,
from which working bees only are destined to issue. Chambers
have been previously prepared for these, suitable to the future
young ones, in form, size, and position, by the workers. In each
of those cells the queen deposits a single egg.

At a later period her majesty begins to lay another kind of egg,
from which males will issue. For these also special chambers
have been provided by the careful workers, of suitable dimen-
sions, being somewhat more roomy than those prepared for
worker-eggs. The number of these male eggs and of the
cells for their reception is incomparably less than those of the
workers ; less, in short, in the proportion in which the drone
class is less numerous than that of the workers in the population
of the hive.

17. In fine, the queen, sensible of her mortality, and more-
over of the approaching state of superabundant population in the
hive, lays a certain small number of royal eggs, from which as
many princesses issue, who are severally destined to be candidates
for the thrones of the colonies which are to emigrate, or to succeed
to the throne of the hive itself, should the queen-mother, as often

8

ROYAL NUPTIALS.

happens, decide on abdicating and accepting the allegiance of one
or other of the emigrating colonies.

18. Special chambers of exceptional form, position and magni-
tude have been previously prepared for these royal eggs by the
provident workers. In these the princesses are reared and
educated with extraordinary care, being fed with a peculiar food.

19. It is essential to the prosperity of the community, that the
nuptials of the queen should not be postponed to a later period
than the second day of her age, the consequence of such postpone-
ment being that her progeny would consist of a redundancy of
drones. Thus, if the marriage be postponed till she is about a
fortnight old, she will lay as many drone as worker-eggs, and if
it be delayed until her age is three weeks, she will only lay
drone eggs. How great a calamity such events must be in the
apiarian economy will be understood, when it is considered that
in a well-regulated society there ought to be about ten workers
to each drone. The general duration of the life of a queen is
from five to six years.

20. The males or drones, fig. 3, are less than the queen and
larger than the workers, fig. 4. The extremity of the body is
more velvety. The last segment being fringed with hair, extend-
ing over the tail, so as to be visible to the naked eye. They take
no part whatever in the labours of the community, contribute
nothing tothe common stoek, are idle, slothful, and cowardly, and,
as if to render their extermination more easy to the industrious
part of the population, nature has given them no sting. They make
a louder buzz with their wings in flight, never exercise any in-
dustry, and are destitute of the baskets and other appendages with
which the busy workers collect the materials of honey and wax.

The life of a drone does not exceed a few months, and he
seldom dies a natural death. If he is honoured by the choice of
the queen and elevated to the rank of king-consort, he dies on
the very day of the nuptials. If he be among the hundreds
rejected by her majesty, and do not emigrate with one or other
of the swarms, being a useless and idle member of the community,
he is massacred by the workers.

21. The workers, sometimes called neuters, are generally con-
sidered as sterile females. The number of these in each com-
munity is very variable, being seldom less than 12000, more
generally amounting to 20000, and in hives where swarming is
checked by affording abundance of room, the number may rise to
60000. They are the smallest members of the society, fig. 4,
have a long flexible proboscis and legs of peculiar structure.

22, Among the wonders presented by the insect-world the head
of the bee and its appendages command especial attention.

THE BEE.

In common with insects generally, the chief parts of the mouth
are, the tongue, the jaws, the lips, and the throat or cesophagus,

The jaws are each double, separated by a vertical division,
Each pair opens, therefore, with a horizontal instead of a vertical
movement like the human jaws. The pair of upper jaws are called
mandibles, and the lower mazille. The upper lip is called the
labrum and the lower the Jabiwm. The mouth is also supplied
with two pairs of special organs called palpi or feelers, one pair
attached to the lower lip and called dabipalpi, and the other to the
lower jaw and called mazipalpi.

23. In fig. 7, is given a magnified view of the buccal apparatus
of the wild bee (Anthophora retusa),* the parts being indicated.

Tig. 7.

Antenne

\ : ---- Labium

> Lateral lobes of little tougue

Little tongue

A less detailed view, also magnified, of the same a: t
the hive-bee is shown in fig. 8. , poser

Mandibles... «+ Mandibles

Lateral sheath. . . -«. Lateral sheath

Inner sheath. . JS... Inner sheath

+». Tongue
Fig. 8.—Tonguce of Hive bee (magnified),
10 * Milne Edwards,

HEAD AND MOUTH,

A magnified view of the head of the drone is shown in fig. 9.

Antenne . ... Antenne
Compound eyes . . . .. Compound eyes
Mandibles... . .- Mandibles
-.. Tongue

Fig. 9—Head of a Drone (magnified).

The mandibles, or upper pair of jaws, in the workers are strong,
horny and sharp. They are the tools with which it performs its
various labours. Meeting over the other parts of the mouth, they
are covered in front by the labrum or upper lip. The maxillex, or
lower jews, on the contrary are pliable and leathery, and hold the
objects upon which the insect works with its mandibles.

The tongue, which is long and endowed with great flexibility,
is moved by a complex system of powerful muscles. When it is
in a state of inaction, it is withdrawn within its sheaths, the
end which protrudes beyond them being doubled up under the
head and neck, the sheaths consisting of two pair of strong
scales.

24, When the bee lights upon the blossom of a flower from
which it desires to extract the nectar, it darts out its tongue from
the sheaths that invest it, and having
pierced the petals and stamina where
the treasure is hidden, it inserts its
tongue which moves about in every
direction in virtue of its great flexibility
and muscular power, and probes to the
very bottom the floral cells, sweeping
their surfaces and draining them to the
last drop of their precious juice. Having

Fig. 10.—Worker extracting
thus collected the nectar upon the nectar from a blossom.

tongue, that organ being drawn back
into the mouth, the liquid sweets are projected back into the
pharynx, and thence into the throat or esophagus.

25. It must be observed also, that the tongue is not only flexible
but susceptible of inflation, so as to form a sort of bag,* in which

* Dr. Bevan on the Honey Bee, p. 298.
il

THE BEE,

the nectar is collected preparatory to being transferred to the
esophagus.
26. The first stomach or honey-bag into which the nectar

Stomach.

= of cesu- Posterior
phagus { segment of
; abdomen
Honey-baz,., .+""

(AX Large intestine
« uy

Fig. 11.—Digestive apparatus of the Bee (magnified).

passes through the esophagus,—which is a long and slender tube
passing from the back of the mouth through the neck,—has the
form of a Florence flask, and is composed of a material as trans-
parent as glass. When filled it has the magnitude of a small pea.
The honey received by it is partly regurgitated and deposited for
general use in the cells of the comb, which will presently be
described, The remainder which constitutes the food of the insect
passes into the true stomach, and from thence into the intestines
where it undergoes the process of digestion, the products of which
are distributed through suitable tubes to all parts of the body for
its nourishment.

27. Both the honey-bag and the stomach are susceptible of
contraction, by which the food is thrown back from the former
into the mouth as in ruminating animals, and from the latter into
the intestines.

28. The antenne are organs of great importance, upon the
functions of which, however, naturalists are not fully agreed. It
appears certain nevertheless, that they are not only tactile instru-
ments of great sensitiveness, but are organs, by the signs, gestures,
and mutual contact of which the bees communicate to each other
their mutual wants, and convey information in many cases, some
of which will be noticed hereafter, respecting the condition of the
hive.

29. The flying-apparatus of the bee, as well as that of many
other insects, far exceeds in power the instruments of flight with
which the swiftest birds are furnished. To the anterior margin
of the under wings are attached eighteen or twenty hooks, which
when spread for flight (figs. 5, 6) lay hold of the posterior edges

of the upper wings, so that the two wings on each side thus united
act as a single wing.
12

LEGS,

80, The three pairs of legs are composed of several joints (fig. 1)
articulated like those of the human arm, so as to give great
mobility to the member. The lower joints of the two under pairs
form brushes, the hairs of which are stiff and bristly, and set
upon their inner surfaces, The farina which they collect from
the stamina of flowers is swept off by these brushes, as well as by

the hairs with which their abdomen and thorax are covered. This -

farina is afterwards by means of the maxille or jaws, and the feet
of the anterior pair of legs, rolled into pellets and packed in a pair
of spoon-shaped cavities or baskets, provided for that purpose and
attached to the feet of the hindmost pair of legs. In this process
the brushes, after disposing of their own collection of farina,
sweep that flour also from the surface of the abdomen and thorax,
and pack it in like manner in the baskets. The exterior of these
baskets is smooth and glossy, and the interior lined with strong
close hairs to retain the load in its place, and prevent its eseape
in flight.

Basket

Fig. 12.—Posterior leg of a worker.

It is worthy of remark that neither the queen nor the drones
are supplied with this appendage. Since neither exercise any
industry they would have no use for it.

31. Each foot terminates in two hooks, the points of which are
opposed one to the other. By means of these the insects suspend
themselves at will to the sides and roofs of their habitation, and
hanging from each other form a living curtain in certain operations
which will be presently noticed.

In the middle of each of these is placed the sucker, by which
the insect is enabled to walk with facility on surfaces with its body
downwards, as we see flies walk on ceilings. These suckers are
little flexible cups, the edges of which are serrated so as to allow
of their close application to any kind of surface. When closely
applied, the air between the sucker and the surface is excluded,
so that the body is attached to the surface by the pressure of the
atmosphere. When the foot is to be detached from the surface,
as in walking, the air is readmitted. This apparatus may be

13

THE BEE.

easily seen, and its action observed, by inspecting with a microscope
the feet of a fly walking on a pane of glass, the observer being on
the side of the pane opposite to that on which the fly moves.

32. Besides the stomach and intestines, the abdomen of the
queen and workers contains the sting and the apparatus connected
with it, by which the venom which it pours into the wound is
secreted, an instrument of offence supplied to these in common
with many other species of four-winged insects. This formidable
weapon of vengeance is established in its tail. All the insects
which in common with the bee are supplied with a sting, belong
to the order hymenoptera or membrane-winged. This weapon
consists of two darts finer than a hair, which lie in juxta-
position, being barbed on the outer sides, but so minutely that
the points can only be seen with the microscope. These darts
move in the groove of a strong sheath, which is often mistaken
for the sting itself. When the dart enters the flesh, a drop of
subtle venom, secreted by a peculiar gland, is ejected through
the sheath and deposited in the wound. This poison produces
considerable tumefaction, attended with very acute pain.

The posterior extremity of the body of a worker with the sting
protruded is shown in fig. 13.

Muscular apparatus by
which the sting is
propelled

Fig. 13.—Posterior extremity
of the body ofa worker with
the sting protruded.

Fig. 14.—The same slightly magnified, showing
the venom-bag,

The sheath of the sting, also called the ovipositor, consists, 9c-
cording to Dr. Bevan, of a long tube, or rather of several tubes,
which pass one into another like those of a telescope. The muscles
by which the sting is propelled, though too minute to be seen
without the microscope, have, nevertheless, sufficient power to
drive the sting tothe depth of the twelfth of an inch into the thick
cuticle of a man’s hand, The sting is articulated by thirteen scales
to the posterior extremity of the body, and at its root are the pair

of glands, one of which appears in fig. 14, in which the poison
14

STING.

is secreted. These glands, communicating by a common duct with
the groove formed by the junction of the lower parts of the barbed
sting, send the venomous liquid through that groove into the
wound. On each dart there are four barbs. When the insect
intends to sting, one of these piercers having its point a little
longer, or more in advance than the others, is first darted into the
flesh, and being fixed there by its barb, the other strikes in also ;
and they alternately penetrate deeper and deeper, till they acquire
a firm hold of the flesh with the barbed hooks, and then follows
the sheath, enclosing and conveying the poison into the wound.
The action of the sting thus, as Paley observed, affords an example
of the union of chemical and mechanical principles: of chemistry,
in respect to the venom; and of mechanism, in the motion into
the flesh. The machinery would have been comparatively useless,
had it not been for the chemical process by which in the body of
the insect honey is converted into poison; and, on the other hand,
the poison would have been ineffectual without an instrument to
wound, and a syringe to inject it.

In consequence of the barbed form of the sting, and the strong
hold it takes on the flesh, the bee can seldom withdraw it, and in
detaching herself from the part stung she generally leaves behind
her not only the sting itself, but the venom-bag and a part of her
intestines. Swammerdam mentions a case in which even the
stomach of the insect was torn from the abdomen in detaching
herself, so that in most cases her life is the sacrifice for the grati-
fication of her vengeance.

Although the bee, except in certain cases to be mentioned
hereafter, uses its sting only in defence, or for vengeance, when
molested, it is sometimes found that it manifests an antipathy to
particular individuals, whom it attacks and wounds without pro-
vocation.

33. The organs of fecundation and reproduction are also con-
tained in the abdomen. Those of the drone aré represented on a
magnified scale in fig. 15. They correspond in their functions to
those of the superior animals.

Fig. 15.—Apparatus of fecundation of the drone.

The organs of reproduction of the queen, which are objects of
considerable interest, are shown on a magnified scale in fig. 16.
15

THE BEE,

84, We have already stated that the king-consort never sur-
vives the bridal day. As this does not affect the conjugal fidelity

Ovaries Ovaries
é
Oviducts Oviducts
Sperm reservoir ¥% Ovipositor

Venom-bag

Venom duct

Fig. 16.—Ovaries of the queen and their appendages.

of her majesty, who never allows a successor to her departed
lord, so neither does it impose any limit to the posthumous off-
spring which she bears to him. Small as are the ovaries, or egg
organs, which are shown highly magnified in fig. 16, her majesty,
according to Huber, generally produces from them about 12000
eggs in the short interval of two months, being at the average
rate of 200 per day.

Although her majesty does not continue so prolific during the
remainder of her life, she nevertheless gives birth to a progeny
enormous in number. The number of eggs deposited by her in
the cells in the months of April and May is, as above stated, about
12000. According to Schirach, a prolific queen will lay in a
season—that is, from April to October inclusive—from 70000 to
100000 eggs. This amazing power of reproduction is not exerted
uniformly during the season. There are two fits, so to speak, of
fruitfulness. The first in April and May; the second, in August
and September, with an interval of comparative repose in July.
This immense increase of population, rendering emigration indis-
pensable, the over-peopled hive sends forth swarm after swarm
so fast as the young arrive at maturity; and with each swarm
one of the princesses goes forth, and is elevated to the throne of
the new colony, except in the event of the abdication of the queen-
mother, in which case she emigrates herself, resigning the sove-
reignty of the hive to one or other of the princesses.

16

Fig. 76.—Hiving a swarm.

THE BEE.
ITS CHARACTER AND MANNERS.

—_+—_

CHAPTER II.

This fecundity not anomalous.—36. Bee architecture.—37. Social
condition of a people indicated by their buildings.—38. This test
applied to the bee, — 39. Individual and collective habits. — 40.
Solitary bees.—41. Structure of their nests.—42. Situation of nests.
— 43, Anthidium manicatum.—44. Expedient for keeping nest
warm.—45. Clothier bee.—46. Carpenter bee.—47. Mason bee.—48.
Expedient to protect the nest.—49. Upholsterer bee.—50. Hang-
ings and carpets of her rooms.—51. Leaf-cutter bees.—52. Method
of making their nest.—53. Process of cutting the leaves.—54. Hive-
bee.—55. Structure of the comb.—56. Double layer of cells.—57.
Pyramidal bases.—58. Illustrative figures.—59. Single cells.—60.
Combination of cells—61. Great advantages of hexagonal form.—62.
Economy of space and material —63. Solidity of structure.—64. Geome-
trical problem of the comb solved.—65. Expedient to secure the sides
and bases of the cells,

i)
OV

35. The prodigious fecundity of the queen of the bees is by no
means an anomaly in the insect world. The female of the white
ants produces eggs at the rate of one per second, or 3600 per hour,
or 86400 per day. Now, although this insect certainly does not

Larpner’s Museum or Sorenon. Q 17

Ne, 119.

THE BEE,

lay at this rate all the year round, yet, taking the lowest estimate
of the period of her reproduction, the number of her young will
probably exceed not only that of the queen bee, but that of any
other known animal.*

36. There is nothing in the economy of the bee more truly
wonderful, nor more calculated to excite our profound veneration
of the beneficent power, which conferred upon it the faculties
which guide its conduct, than the measures which it takes for the
construction of its dwelling, and for those of its young. These
processes are very various, according to the particular species of
the insect which executes them. Now, most of these species
differ in the mechanical and architectural principles upon which
they base the construction of their dwellings, all agreeing, never-
theless, in this, that they select those principles with admirable
skill, adapting them in all cases to the situation and circum-
stances in which their habitations are erected.

37. If we would form an estimate of the civilisation and intel-
lectual condition of the population of a newly-discovered country,
we usually direct our attention, as Kirby observes, to their build-
ings and other examples of architectural skill. If we find them
like the wretched inhabitants of Van Diemen’s land, without
other abodes than natural caverns, or miserable penthouses of
bark, we at once regard them as ignorant and unhumanised. If,
like the South Sea islanders, they live in houses of timber
thatched with leaves, and supplied with various utensils, we
place them much higher in the scale. But when we discover a
nation inhabiting towns like the ancient Mexicans, consisting of
stone houses regularly arranged in streets, we do not hesitate to
pronounce them advanced to a considerable point in civilisation.

If, moreover, it be found that each building has been con-
structed upon the most profound mathematical principles, so that
the materials have been applied under such conditions as ensure
the greatest degree of strength, combined with the greatest degree
of lightness; and that, while the internal apartments display the
most beautiful symmetry, they also afford the greatest capacity
which a given amount of materials can admit, we at once arrive
at the conclusion that such a population must have arrived not
alone at the highest degree of civilisation, but at the highest point
in the advancement of the sciences,

38. If we were to affirm that all this may be said with the
most rigorous truth of many varieties of the bee, and above all of
the common hive-bee, we might be suspected of being merely
excited by that enthusiasm so common with those, who devote

* See Tract on the White Ants.
18

NESTS.

themselves exclusively to one particular pursuit. We must,
nevertheless, leave the reader to judge how far such a statement
is chargeable with the exaggeration of enthusiasm, when he shall
have duly pondered upon all that we shall explain to him in the
following pages; and if, perchance, his wonder be raised to the
point of incredulity, that sentiment will be repressed when he
remembers, who taught the bee!

39. Bees, like the human race, sometimes exercise their industry
individually and sometimes collectively. Their habitations also are
sometimes constructed exclusively for their young, and may be
called nests rather than dwellings, This is more especially the case
with solitary insects. In the case of social bees, which live together
in organised communities, the habitations are generally adapted as
well for the members of the colony themselves, as for their progeny.

40. The operations of these solitary insects, though exhibiting,
as will presently appear, marvellous skill, are infinitely inferior to
those of the social bees. We shall, therefore, first notice the
more simple labours of the former.

41. Among the most inartificial structures executed by the
solitary species, are the habitations of the colletes succincte,
fodiens, &e. The situation chosen in these cases is either a bank
of dry earth, or the cavities of mud walls, A cylindrical hole
pierced in a horizontal direction about two inches in length is
first produced. The bee makes in this three or four thimble-
shaped cells, each of whichis about a sixth of an inch in diameter
and half an inch long, fitting one into another like thimbles, The
materials of these cells is a silky membrane resembling gold-
beater’s leaf, but much finer, and so very thin and transparent
that the form and colour of any enclosed object can be seen
through it, This material is secreted by the insect. When the
first of these cells is completed, the insect deposits in it an egg and
fills it with a pasty substance, which is 4 mixture of pollen and
honey. When this is done she proceeds to form the second cell,
inserting its end in the mouth of the first as above described, and
in like manner lays an egg in it and deposits with it a like store
of food for the future young. This goes on until the cylindrical
hole receives three or four cells which nearly fill it. The bee
then carefully stops up the mouth of the hole with earth.

42. The situations in which these simple nests are placed are
very various. They are not only found as above stated in banks
of earth and mud walls, and the interstices of stone walls, but
often also in the branches of trees. Thus a series of them was
found by Grew in the pith of an old elder branch.

43. Some varieties of the bee, such as the anthidium manicatum,
dispense with the labour of boring the cylindrical holes above

02 19

THE BEE.

described, and avail themselves of the ready-made cavities of trees,
or any other object which answers their purpose. Kirby mentions
the example of nests of this kind found by himself and others,
constructed in the inside of the lock of a garden-gate.

44, A proceeding has been ascertained on the part of these
insects in such cases, which it is extremely difficult to ascribe to
mere instinct, independent of some intelligence. Wherever the
nest may be constructed, the due preservation of the young requires
that until they attain the perfect state, their temperature should
be maintained at a certain point. So long as the material sur-
rounding their nest is a very imperfect conductor of heat, as
earth or the pith of wood is, the heat developed by the insect,
being confined, is sufficient to maintain its temperature at the
requisite point. But if, perchance, the mother-bee select for her
nest any such locality as that of the lock of a gate, the metal,
being a good conductor of heat, would speedily dissipate the animal
heat developed by the insect, and thus reduce its temperature to
a point incompatible with the continuance of its existence. How
then does the tender mother, foreseeing this, and consequently
informed by some power of the physical quality peculiar to the
metal surrounding the nest, provide against itP How, we may
ask, would a scientific human architect prevent such an even-
tuality ? He would seek for a suitable material which is a non-
conductor of heat and would surround the nest with it. In fact
the very thing has occurred in a like case in relation to steam-
engine boilers. The economy of fuel there rendered it quite as
necessary to confine the heat developed in the furnace, as it is to
confine that which is developed in the natural economy of the
pupa of the bee. The expedient therefore resorted to is to invest
the boiler in a thick coating of a sort of felt, made for the pur-
pose, which is almost a non-conductor of heat. A casing of
sawdust is also used in Cornwall for alike purpose. By these
expedients the escape of heat from the external surface of the
boiler is prevented.

45, The bee keeps its pupa warm by an expedient so exactly
similar, that we must suppose that she has been guided either by
her own knowledge, or by a power that commands all knowledge, in
her operations. She seeks certain woolly leaved plants, such as the
stachys lanata or the agrostemma coronaria, and with her
mandibles scrapes off the wool. She rolls this into little balls,
and carrying it to the nest, sticks it on the external surface by
means of a plaster, composed of honey and pollen, with which
she previously coats it. Thus invested, the cells become impervious
to heat, and consequently all the heat developed by the little
animal is confined within them.

20

CLOTHIERS—-CARPENTERS—MASONS,

This curious habit of swathing up its pupa in a kind of warm
blanket has given to these species the name of clothiers.

46, Another class of bees has acquired the name of carpenters,
from the manner in which they carve out their nest in wood-
work, This bee, which is represented in fig. 17, and of which
the nest is shown in fig. 18, having been already described in our
Tract on Instinct and Intelligence (72), need not be noticed further
here.

Fig. 17.—The Carpenter Bee. Fig. 18.—Nest of the Carpenter Bee.
(Xylacope). :

47, Another class of this insect has acquired the name of
masons, from the circumstance of building their nests of a sort of
artificial stone. The situation selected is usually a stone wall,
having a southern aspect, and sheltered on either side by some
angular projection. The situation being decided upon, the mother-
bee proceeds to collect the materials for the mansion, which consist
of sand, with some mixture of earth. These she glues together,
grain by grain, with a cement composed of viscid saliva, which
she secretes. Having formed this material into little masses,
like the grains of small shot, she transports them with her
mandibles to the place where she has laid the foundation of her
mansion.

With a number of these masses, united together by an excellent
cement secreted by her organs, she first lays the foundation of the
building. She next raises the walls of a cell about an inch in
length, and half an inch broad, resembling in form a thimble.
In this she deposits an egg, fills it with a mixture of pollen and
honey, in the same manner as described in the former case, and
after carefully covering it in, proceeds to the erection of a second
building of the same kind, which she furnishes in the same manner,
and so continues until she has completed from four to eight.

These cells are not placed in any regular order; some are

21.

THE BEE.

parallel, others perpendicular, and others inclined to the wall at
different angles. The whole mass is consolidated by filling up
the irregular intersticial spaces between the cells, with the same
material as that of which the walls are built. After this has
been accomplished, the whole is covered up with coarser grains
of sand.

The nest when thus finished resembles a mass of solid stone, so
hard as to be cut with much difficulty by a knite. Its form is an
irregular oblong, and to a casual observer presents the appearance
of a mere splash of mud rather than that of a regular stracture.

The insects are sometimes so sparing of their labour, that they
avail themselves of old nests when they can find them, and often
have desperate combats to seize and retain possession of them.

48. It might be imagined that nests so solidly constructed would
afford perfect protection to the young from its enemies; such is
nevertheless not found to be the case. The ichneumon and the
beetle both contrive occasionally to deposit their eggs in the cells,
the larve of which never fail to devour their inhabitants.

Different varieties of the masons select different situations and
materials for their nests. Some use fine earth, which they make
into mortar with gluten. Others mix sandy earth with chalk.
Some construct their nests in chalk-pits, others in the cavities ot
large stones, while others bore holes for them in rotten wood.
Wherever placed they endeavour to conceal them, by plastering or
covering them with some material different from that of which
the nest is constructed. Thus one species surrounds its nest with
oak-leaves glued to its surface. M. Goureau mentions the case of
a bee that employed an entire day, in arranging blades of grass
about two inches long, in the form of the top of a tent over the
mouth of its nest. A case of this sort was also observed by Mr.
Thwaites, who saw a female for a considerable time collecting small
blades of grass, which she laid over the empty shell of a snail in
which she had located her nest.

.49, The name of upholsterers has been given by Kirby to certain
species of bees, who, having excavated their nest in the earth,
hang its walls with a splendid coating of flowers and leaves. One
of the most interesting of these varieties is the megachile
papaveris, which has been described by Reaumur. It chooses
invariably for the hangings of its apartments the most brilliant
scarlet, selecting as its material the petals of tie wild poppy,
which the insect dexterously cuts into the proper form.

50. Her first process is to excavate in some pathway a burrow
cylindrical at the entrance, but enlarged as it descends, the depth
being about three inches. After having polished the walls, she

next flies to a neighbouring field, where she cuts out the oval
22

UPHOLSTERERS—LEAF-CUTTERS.

parts of the poppy blossoms, and seizing them between her hind
legs returns with them to her cell. Sometimes it happens that
the flower from which she cuts these, being but half blown,
has a wrinkled petal. In that case she spreads out the folds, and
smoothes away the wrinkles, and if she finds that the pieces are
too large to fit the vacant spaces on the walls of her little room,
she soon reduces them to suitable dimensions, by cutting off all
the superfluous parts with her mandibles. In hanging the walls
with this brilliant tapestry she begins at the bottom, and
gradually ascends to the roof. She carpets in the same manner
the surface of the ground round the margin of the orifice. The
floor is rendered warm sometimes by three or four layers of
carpeting, but never has less than two.

Our little upholsterer having thus completed the hangings of
her apartment, fills it with a mixture of pollen and honey to the
height of about half an inch. She then lays an egg in it, and
wraps over the poppy lining, so that even the roof may be fur-
nished with this material, Having accomplished this she closes
the mouth of the nest.*

51. It is not every insect of this class which manifests the same
showy taste in the colours of their furniture. The species called
leaf-cutters hang their walls in the same way, not with the
blossoms but the leaves of trees, and more particularly those of
the rose-tree. They differ also from the upholsterer, described
above, in the external structure of their nests, which are formed
in much longer cylindrical holes, and consist of a series of
thimble-shaped cells, composed of leaves most curiously convo-
luted. We are indebted likewise to Reaumur for a description of
the labours of these.

52. The mother first excavates a cylindrical hole in a horizontal
cirection eight or ten inches long, either in the ground or in the
wunk of a rotten tree, or any other decaying wood. She fills this
hole with six or seven thimble-shaped cells, composed of cut
leaves, the convex end of each fitting into the open end of the
cther. Her first process is to form the external coating, which is
composed of three or four pieces of larger dimensions than the
rest, and of an oval form. ‘The second coating consists of portions
if equal size, narrow at one end, but gradually widening towards
the other, where the width equals half the length. One side f
these pieces is the serrated edge of the leaf from which it was
taken, which, as the pieces lap over each other, is kept on the
catside, the edge which was cut being within.

The little animal next forms a third coating of similar material,

* Reaumur, vi. 139 to 148.
23

THE BEE.

the middle of which, as the most skilful workman would do in a
like case, she places over the margins of those that form the first
side, thus covering and strengthening the junctions by the expe-
dient which mechanics call a break-joint. Continuing the same
process she gives a fourth and sometimes a fifth coating to her
nest, taking care at the closed end or narrow extremity of the
cell, to bend the leaves so as to form a convex termination.

After thus completing each cell, she proceeds to fill it to within
the twentieth of an inch of the orifice with a rose-coloured sweet-
meat made of the pollen collected from thistle blossoms mixed
with honey. Upon this she lays her egg, and then closes the
orifice with three pieces of leaf, one placed upon the other, con-
centrical and also so exactly circular in form, that no compasses
could describe that geometrical figure with more precision. In
their magnitude also they correspond with the walls of the cell with
such a degree of precision, that they are retained in their situation
merely by the uicety of their adaptation.

The covering of the cell thus adapted to it being concave,
corresponds exactly with the convex end of the cell which is to
succeed it, and in this manner the little insect prosecutes her
maternal labours, until she has constructed all the cells, six or
seven in number, necessary to fill the cylindrical hole.

53. The process which one of these bees employs in cutting the
pieces of leaf that compose her nest, is worthy of attention.
Nothing can be more expeditious, and she is not longer about it
than one would be in cutting similar pieces with a pair of scissors.
After hovering for some moments over a rose-bush, as it were to
reconnoitre the ground, the bee alights upon the leaf which she
has selected, usually taking her station upon its edge, so that its
margin shall pass between her legs. She then cuts with her
mandibles, without intermission, in such a direction as to detach
from the leaf « triangular piece. When this hangs by the last
fibre, lest its weight should carry her to the ground, she spreads
her little wings for flight, and the very moment the connection of
the part thus cut off with the leaf is broken, she carries it off in
triumph to her nest, the detached portion remaining bent between
her legs in a direction perpendicular to her body. Thus, without
rule or compass, do these little creatures measure out the material
of their work into ovals, or circles, or other pieces of suitable
shapes, accurately accommodating the dimensions of the several
pieces of these figures to each other. What other architect could
carry impressed upon. the tablet of his memory such details of the
edifice which he has to erect, and destitute of square or plumb-
line, cut out his materials in their exact dimensions without
making a single mistake or requiring a single subsequent correc-

24

STRUCTURE OF THE HONEY-COMB.

tion? Yet this is what the little bee invariably does. So far are
human art and reason surpassed by that instruction which the
insect receives from its Divine Creator.*

54. But of all the varieties of this insect, that of which the
architectural and mechanical skill is transcendently the most admi-
rable, is the Aive-bee. The most profound philosopher, says Kirby,
equally with the most incurious of mortals, is filled with astonish-
ment at the view of the interior of a bee-hive. He beholds there
a miniature city. He sees regular streets, disposed in parallel
directions, and consisting of houses constructed upon the most
exact geometrical principles, and of the most symmetrical forms.
These buildings are appropriated to various purposes. Some are
warehouses in which provisions are stored in enormous quantities.
Some are the dwellings of the citizens, and a few of the most
spacious and magnificent are royal palaces. He finds that the
material of which this city is built, is one which man with all
his skill and science cannot fabricate, and that the edifices which
it is employed to form are such that the most consummate engineer
could not reproduce, much less originate; and yet this wondrous
production of art and skill is the result of the labour of a society
of insects so minute, that hundreds of thousands of them do not
contain as much ponderable matter, as would enter into the com-
position of the body of a man. Quel abime aux yeux du sage
qwune ruche dabeilles! Quelle sagesse profonde se cache dans
cet abime ! Quel philosophe osera le sonder ! Nor has the problem
thus solved by the bee, yet been satisfactorily expounded by
philosophers. Its mysteries have not yet been fathomed. In all
ages naturalists and mathematicians have been engrossed by it,
from Aristomachus of Soli and Philiscus the Thracian, already
mentioned, to Swammerdam, Reaumur, Hunter, and Huber of
modern times. Nevertheless the honey-comb is still a miracle
which overwhelms our faculties.+

55. A honey-comb, when examined, is found to be a flattish
cake with surfaces sensibly parallel, each surface being reticulated
with hexagonal forms of the utmost regularity. No geometrician
could describe the regular hexagon with greater precision than is
here exhibited.

It is proved in geometry that there are only three regular
figures, which, being joined together at their corners, will so fit
each other as to leave no unoccupied spaces between them. These
figures are the square, the equilateral triangle, and the regular
hexagon. Four squares united by one of their angles will fill all

* Reaumur, vi. 971; Kirby, Int., i. 377.
+ Kirby, i. 410.
25

THE BEE.

the surrounding space, and any number of squares may thus be
combined so as to cover a surface like a mosaic pavement without’
leaving any intermediate unoccupied spaces.

In like manner six equilateral triangles will have a like pro-
perty, and in fine, three regular hexagons being similarly united
at one of their corners, will in like manner completely occupy the
surrounding space.

Since no other regular geometrical figure possesses this property,
it follows that a regular mosaic pavement must necessarily be
composed of one or other of these figures.

Fig. 19 represents such a pavement composed of squares; and
fig. 20, one composed of equilateral triangles; and in fine,
fig. 21, one composed of regular hexagons.

Fig. 19.

The angles, in fig. 19, are 90°; those in fig. 20, are 60°; and
those in fig. 21, 120°. No other angles save these, therefore,
could be used in any regular pavement of this kind without
leaving intersticial uncovered spaces,

Now it will be at once perceived that the form presented by the
surface of a honey-comb is that of an hexagonal pavement. We
shall presently see why the bee has selected this in preference to
either of the other possible forms.

26

HEXAGONAL STRUCTURE.

56. On further examining the comb, it will be found that the
hexagonal spaces presented by its surface are the mouths of so

Fig. 20.

many hexagonal tubes which are filled with honey. If any of
these be empty, it will be seen that the depth of these tubes is
half the thickness of the comb.

57. It appears therefore that the honey-comb is u combination
of hexagonal tubes, placed in juxtaposition, the angles of the
hexagon being fitted into each other like the stones of a mosaic
pavement; that there are two systems of such tubes, meeting in
the middle of the thickness of the comb, their mouths being pre-
sented outwards on both sides, and consequently their bases
resting against each other.

If by the dissection of the comb, the forms of their bases be
examined, they will be found to consist, not as might be at first
supposed of plane regular hexagons, which would be the case if
they were plane surfaces at right angles to the tube; they will
be found, on the other hand, to have the form of pyramids, each of
which is composed of three regular lozenges united together at
their edges, so as to form an apex; this apex being pointed always
towards the opposite side of the comb. The pyramidal base is

27

THE. BEE.

thus a geometrical figure, having as much regularity as the
hexagonal tube, of which it forms the termination, but constructed

Fig. 21.

on a totally different principle. The angles of the lozenges,
which form its sides, are one obtuse and the other acute ; and these
pyramidal bases of the cells, on one side of the comb, fit into
corresponding cavities, made by the similar pyramidal bases of the
cells, on the other side of the comb, so as to leave no intermediate
unoccupied space.

58. Without the aid of perspective figures, and even with such
aid, without some effort of imagination on the part of the reader,
it would be impossible to convey a clear notion of this part of the
structure of the honey-comb, and yet without such a clear notion
it would be totally impossible to appreciate the admirable results
of bee industry. We have, therefore, attempted to represent in
figs, 22 and 23, the bases of four contiguous cells seen from the
inside and from the outside. In fig. 22 is presented an inside view
of the bases of three adjacent cells, aau. It must be observed that
a a aare here intended to represent angular cavities, each formed
by the junction of three lozenge-shaped planes, such as have been
just described. Nowit will be seen, that as a necessary consequence
of this juxtaposition, a figure will be formed at }, by three lozenge-

28

STRUCTURE OF THE COMB.

shaped planes, one belonging to each of the three bases, aaa,
and that this, instead of being hollow on the side presented to

Fig. 22. Fig. 23. Fig. 24. Fig. 25.

;

the eye, will be hollow on the opposite side, which is turned from
the eye, and will there form an angular cavity precisely similar
and equal to the cavities a a a, which are turned towards the eye.
Now this cavity, which is thus turned to the opposite side, is the
base of one of the cells on the other side of the comb. In fig. 23
we have presented a view of the combination as it would be seen
on the other side. In this case, the angular cavity darkly shaded
in the middle of the figure, is the angular projection, 8, in fig. 22,
seen on the other side; and the three angular projections which
surround it, jutting forward towards the eye, are the three angular
bases, a a a, fig. 22, seen on the other side.

59. A perspective view of a single hexagonal tube or cell, with
its pyramidal base, is shown in fig. 24.

The manner in which the hexagonal cells are united base to
base to form the comb, is shown in perspective in fig. 25, where a
is the open mouth of the tube, and 6 ¢ the lozenge-shaped planes,
forming the bases of the opposite tubes. The same is shown in
section in fig. 26.

Fig. 26.

60. Several hexagonal cells are shown in their natural juxta-
‘position, placed base to base, as they form the comb, in fig. 27,
and a perspective view of their pyramidal bases is given in fig. 28.

Nothing can be more surprising than this production of such an
insect, when regarded as a piece of scientific engineering. The
substance which comprises it being one secreted by the bees in
limited quantity, it was of the greatest importance in its use, that
a material so scarce should be applied so as to produce the
greatest possible result, with the smallest possible quantity of the
material. The problem, therefore, which the bee had to solve

29

THE BEE.

was, with a given quantity of wax, to construct a combination of
similar and equal cells of the greatest aggregate capacity, and such
as to occupy the available space in the hive to the greatest possible
advantage. The form and magnitude of the cells must neces-
sarily have been adapted to those of the bee itself, because these
cells are intended to be the nests in which the eggs are laid and
hatched, and the young bee raised to its state of maturity.

The body of the bee being oblong, and measuring about
six-tenths of an inch in length by two-tenths in diameter, cylin-
drical tubes of corresponding dimensions would have answered
the purpose; but such tubes could not be united together in
juxtaposition without either a great waste of wax or great defi-
ciency of strength, since, when placed in contiguity, they would
leave between them empty spaces of considerable magnitude,
which, if left unoccupied, would render the structure weak, and if
filled with wax, would have the double disadvantage of giving
needless and injurious weight to the comb, and involving the
waste of a quantity of a scarce and precious material, greater than
all that would be necessary to form the really useful part of the
comb.

61. From what has been explained it will be understood that, to
form a combination of tubular cells without interstices, the
choice of the bee was necessarily limited to the three figures
already mentioned—the equilateral triangle, the square, and the
regular hexagon. The equilateral triangle would be attended
with the disadvantage of a great waste of both space and material;
for if its dimensions were sufficient to afford easy room to the
body of the bee, a large space would be wasted at each of the
angles, towards which the body of the bee could never approach.

A like disadvantage, though less in degree, would have attended
square tubes. The bee, therefore, with the instinct of an engineer,
decided on the third form, of the regular hexagon, which at once
fulfilled the conditions of a sufficiently near adaptation to the
form of its own body, and the advantage of such a combination
as would leave neither waste space nor loss of material.

62. In the structure of the comb there is still another point
worthy of attention. It might naturally have been expected
that it would be composed of a single layer of cells, one side pre-
senting the mouth, and the other the pyramidal base; but if this
had been the course adopted, the side consisting of the pyramidal
bases would be an extensive surface, upon which the industry of
the bee would have no occupation, and the space in the hive to
which such surface would be presented would, therefore, be so
much space wasted. Instead, therefore, of constructing the

comb of a single layer of cells, the bees judiciously make it of a
30

FORM OF THE CELLS,

double layer, the pyramidal bases of each layer being placed in
contact with each other.

It might also have been expected that these bases would have
received the most simple form of plane surfaces, so that the side
of each layer occupied by them would be a uniform plane; and
these planes resting in contact would form the comb; but to this
there would he several objections, In the first place, the capacity
of the comb would be less; the bases of the cells, placed in contact,
would be liable to slip one upon the other; and if the cells had a
common base, they would have less strength ; but independently
of this, the bee itself tapers towards its posterior extremity, and a
cell with a flat bottom having no corresponding tapering form
would be little adapted to its shape, and would involve a con-
sequent waste of space. The bee avoids this disadvantage by
giving the bottom of the cell the shape of a hollow angular
pyramid, into the depth of which the tapering posterior extremity
of the insect enters.

63. There is another advantage in this arrangement which
must not be overlooked. The pyramidal bases of each layer of
cells, placed in juxtaposition by reciprocally fitting each other, so
that the angular projections of each are received into the angular
cavities of the other, are effective means of resisting all lateral
displacement.

64, Pyramidal bases, however, might have been given to the
cells in a great variety of ways, which would have equally served
the purposes here indicated; but it was essential, on grounds of
economy, that that form should be selected which would give
the greatest possible capacity with the least possible material. On
examining curiously the form of the lozenges composing the pyra-
midal bases of the cells, Maraldi found by accurate measurement
that their acute angle measured 70° 32’, and consequently their
obtuse angle 109° 28’. Magnitudes so singular as these, invariably
reproduced in all the regular cells, could scarcely be imagined to
have been adopted by these little engineers without a special pur-
pose, and Reaumur accordingly conjectured that the object must
have been the economy of wax.

Not being himself a mathematician sufficiently profound to
solve a problem of this order, he submitted to M. Koenig, an
eminent geometer of that day, the general problem to determine
the form which ought to be given to the pyramidal bottom of an
hexagonal prism, such as those constituting the cones, so that with
a given capacity, the least possible material would be necessary
for the construction. The problem was one requiring for its solu-
tion the highest resources to which analytical science had then
attained. Its solution, however, was obtained, from which it

31

THE BEE.

‘appeared that the proper angles for the lozenges would be 70° 34’
for the acute, and consequently 109° 26’ for the obtuse angle.
Here are then in juxtaposition the result of the labours of the
geometer and the bee.

AOUTE ANGLE. OBTUSE ANGLE,

Geometer . 2... 70° 34’ 109° 26’
Bees se Hw we ww 70° 32’ 109° 28°

{

We leave the reader to enjoy the contemplation of these num-
bers without one word more of comment.

65. ‘‘ Besides the saving of wax effected by the form of the
cells, the bees adopt another economical plan suited to the same
end. They compose the bottoms and sides of wax of very great
tenuity, not thicker than a sheet of writing-paper ; but as walls of
this thickness at the entrance would be perpetually injured by the
ingress and egress of the workers, they prudently make the margin
at the opening of each cell three or four times thicker than the
walls. Dr. Barclay discovered that though of such excessive
tenuity, the sides and bottom of each cell are actually double, or
in other words, that each cell is distinct, separate, and in some
measure an independent structure, agglutinated only to the
neighbouring cells; and that when the agglutinating substance
is destroyed, each cell may be entirely separated from the rest.
This, however, has been denied by Mr. Waterhouse, and seems
inconsistent with the account given by Huber, hereafter detailed;
but Mr. G. Newport asserts, that even the virgin-cells are lined
with a delicate membrane.” *

* Kirby, i. p. 412.

32

Fig. 55.—coveRED APIAKY.

THE BEE.
ITS CHARACTER AND MANNERS.

ny eee

CHAPTER IIT.

66. Drone cells and worker cells.—67. Store cells.—68. Construction
of combs.—69. Wax-makers also produce honey.—70. First
operation of the wax-makers.—71. Process of the foundress.—
72. Kneading the wax.—73. Formation of first wall.— 74. Correction
of mistakes.—75. Dimensions of first wall.—76. Operations of the
nurses.—77. Bases of cells.—78. Wax-makers resume their work.
—Completion of pyramidal bases.—79. Pyramidal partition.—80.
Formation of cells.—81-82. Arrangement of combs.—83. Sides not
parallel.—84. Process not merely mechanical.—85-86. Process of
construction. —87. Labour successive.—88. Dimensions of cells.—
89. Their number.—90. Bee-bread.—91. Pap for young.—92. Food
adapted to age.—93. Transformation.—94. Humble-bees—females.
—95. Their nursing workers.—96. Transformation.—97. How the
temperature of the cocoons is maintained.—98. Anecdote related by
Huber.—99. Remarkable care of the nurses.—100. Heat evolved in
respiration by the hive-bee-—101. Cross alleys connecting the streets.
—102. First laying of the queen in Spring.—103. Her royal suite.—
104. The eggs.

66. Since the population of the hive is composed, as already
explained, of different classes of individuals having different
stature, and since one of the purposes of the cells is to be their

Larpner’s Museum oF SciENce. D 33

No, 121,

THE BEE.

abode from the time they issue from the egg until they attain
maturity, it follows that the capacity of the cells, or such of them as
arethus appropriated, must be subject to a corresponding difference.
The cells of the workers will therefore be less in magnitude than
those of the drones, and these last much less than the royal cells.
The comb therefore consists of different parts reticulated by
hexagons of different magnitudes, the smaller ones being the
mouths of the cells appropriated to the workers, and the larger
those of the cradles of the drones, As to the royal cells they differ
altogether from the others, not only in capacity, but also in position
and form. As already explained, the general forms of the cells
are hexagonal tubes, with pyramidal bases, and open mouths
ranged horizontally, their axes being at right angles to the flat
sides of the comb. The comb itself is placed vertically in the
hive, and the royal cells which are large and pear-shaped are
cemented to its lower edges, hanging from it vertically like stalac-
tites from the roof of a cavern. Although there be but one queen
in each hive, she produces, nevertheless, three or four or more,
and-sometimes even as many as thirty or forty royal eggs. The
princesses which issue from these, are destined to be the queens of
the successive swarms which the hive sends forth,

67. The cells which are appropriated exclusively to the storage
of honey and pollen, are similar in form and position to those
appropriated to the young drones and workers, but are greater in
length, and this length the bees vary according to the exigencies
of their store of provisions. If more of these result from their
labours than the cells constructed can contain, and there is not
time or space for:the construction of more cells, they lengthen
the honey-cells already made by cementing a rim upon them.
They sometimes also use for storage, cells which have already been
occupied by young drones or workers, which, having attained their
state of maturity, have vacated them.

68. Having thus explained in general the forms and structures
of the cells, we shall briefly explain the operation by which the
bees construct them, and by their combination form the combs.

The material of the combs is waz, a substance secreted beneath
the ventral segments of the bodies of that class of the workers
which, from this circumstance, has received the name of wax-
makers, The apparatus by which the material which ultimately
acquires the character of wax is secreted, consists of four pairs of
membranous bags, called wax-pockets, which are situated at the
base of each segment of the body, one on each side, and which
in the natural condition of the body, are concealed by the seg-
ments overlapping each other. They can, however, be rendered
visible by drawing out the body longitudinally, so that the part

34

CONSTRUCTION OF COMBS.

of each segment covered by the preceding one shall be disclose
(fig. 29).

In these pockets the substance to be ultimately converted into

wax is secreted from the food taken into the stomach, which,
transpiring from thence through the membrane of Fig. 29.
the wax-pocket, is formed there in thin lamina. ;
The stomach and its appendages which are en-
dowed with these functions, though much less
capacious in the nurses than in the wax-makers,
is not altogether absent ; and the nurses have a
certain limited power of secreting wax. In them
the wax-making function, however, seems to exist
in little more than a rudimentary state.

69. Although the chief duty of the wax-makers
is that from which they have taken their names, they are also
capable of producing honey, and when the hive is abundantly
furnished with combs, they accordingly change the object of their
industry and produce honey instead of wax.

70. When a comb is about to be constructed, the operation is
commenced by the wax-makers, who, having taken a due portion
of honey or sugar, from either of which wax can be elaborated,

Fig. 30. suspend themselves one to ano-
ther—the claws of the fore-legs
of the lowermost being attached
to those of the hind-legs of the
next above them, so that they
form a cluster, the external sur-
face of which presents the appear-
ance of a fringed curtain (fig. 30).
After having remained in this
state unmoved for about twenty-
four hours, during which period
the material of the wax is secreted, the thin lamine into which it is
formed may generally be perceived under the abdomen.

A single bee is now seen to separate itself from the cluster and
to pass from among its companions to the roof of the hive, where
by turning itself round, it clears a circular space. for its work,
about an inch in diameter. Having done this, it proceeds to lay
the foundation of a comb in the following manner, if one may be
permitted to apply the word foundation to the top of a suspended
structure.

71. The foundress bee, as this individual is called, commences
its work by seizing with one of its hind feet a plate of wax,
or rather of the material out of which wax is to be constituted,
from between the segments of its abdomen. The insect, is

p2 35

THE .BEE.

represented in this act in fig. 31. Having fixed a secure hold on
the lamina, it carries it by its feet from the abdomen to its mouth,
‘where it is taken by one of the fore-legs which holds it vertically
while the tongue rolled up serves for a support, and by raising
and depressing at will, causes the whole circumference to be
brought successively under the action of the mandibles (fig. 32),
so that the margin is soon ground into pieces. These pieces fall
gradually as they are detached in the double cavity of the
mandibles which are bordered with hair.

Fig. 31. Fig. 32.

The mandibles or jaws which execute this process open ina
horizontal, instead of a vertical, direction as in the case of the
superior animals, and have a form resembling that of a pair of
shears or scissors.

72. The fragments of the lamine thus divided falling on either
side of the mouth, and pressed together into a compact mass,
issue from it in the form of a very narrow ribbon. This ribbon
is then presented to the tongue by which it is impregnated with
a frothy liquor, which has the same effect upon it as water has
-on potter’s earth in the formation ‘of porcelain paste. That this
-process, by which the raw material of the wax is worked and
kneaded, is an extremely elaborate and artificial one, is rendered
apparent by observing carefully the mancuvres of the bee’s tongue
in the process. Sometimes that organ assumes the form of a
spatula, or apothecary’s knife, sometimes it takes the form of a
mason’s trowel, and sometimes that of a pencil tapering to a point,
never ceasing to work upon the ribbon’ which is being evolved
from the mouth in these several forms.

After the ribbon has been thus thoroughly impregnated with
moisture, and carefully kneaded, the tongue again pushes it
between the mandibles, but in a contrary direction to that in which
it previously passed, when the whole is worked up anew.

The substance is now converted into true wax, the characteristic
properties of which it has acquired in this process. The material
evolyed in lamine from the segments of the abdomen is brittle
and friable, and would be as unfit for the structure of the comb
as dry potter’s earth would be for the formation of a vase. The
liquid secreted from the mouth, with which it has been impreg-

86

CONSTRUCTION OF COMBS.

nated, and the elaborate process of kneading which it has under-
gone, have totally changed its mechanical properties and have
imparted to it that ductility and plasticity so eminently charac-
teristic of wax. It has also undergone other physical changes.
The lamine taken from the abdominal segments are colourless
and transparent, the substance into which they are converted,
being white and opaque.

73. The pieces of wax thus elaborated the insect applies against
the roof of the hive, arranging them with her mandibles in the
intended direction of the comb. She continues thus until she
has in this way applied the wax produced from the entire laminz,
when she takes in like manner another from her abdomen, treat-
ing it in the same way. After thus heaping together all the wax
which her organs have secreted, and causing it to adhere by its
proper tenacity to the vaults of the hive, she withdraws from her
work and is succeeded by another labourer who continues the
same operations, who is followed in a like manner by a third and
fourth, and so on, all disposing the produce of their labour in the-
direction first intended to be given to the comb,

74. Nevertheless it would seem that the curious facility by
which these proceedings are directed is not altogether unerring, for
it happens by chance now and then that one of the workers will
commit a mistake by placing the wax in the wrong direction. In
such cases, the worker which succeeds never fails to rectify the
error, removing the materials which are wrongly placed, and
disposing them in the proper direction.

75. The result of all these operations of the wax-makers is the
construction of a rough wall of wax about half an inch long, a
sixth of an inch high, and the twenty-fourth of an inch thick,
which hangs vertically from the roof of the hive. In the first
rough work there is no angle nor the least indication of the
form of the cells. It is a mere straight and plain vertical parti-
tion of wax, roughly made, about the twenty-fourth of an inch
thick, and such as can only be regarded as the foundation of a
comb.

76. The duty of the wax-makers terminating here, they are
succeeded by the nurses, who are the genuine artisans; standing
in relation to the wax-makers in the same manner as, in the con-
struction of a building, the masons who work ‘up the materials into
the form of the intended structure would to the common labourers,
One of the nurses commences its operation by placing itself hori-
zontally on the roof of the hive, with. its head presented to the
wall of wax constructed by the wax-makers. This wall or
partition is intended to be converted into the system of pyramidal
bases of the cells already described, and accordingly the first

37

THE BEE,

labour of the nurses is directed to accomplish this change. Their
first operation, therefore, is to mould on that side of the wall to
which its head is directed, a pyramidal cavity having the form of
the base of one of the intended cells. When it has laboured for
some minutes thus, it departs and is succeeded by another, who
continues the work, deepening the cavity and increasing its lateral
margins by heaping up the wax on either side by means of its
teeth and fore-feet, so as to give the sides a more regular form.
More than twenty nurses succeed each other in this operation.

77. It must be remembered that during this process, nothing
has been done on the other side of the partition, but when the
cell just described has attained a certain length, other nurses
approach the opposite side of the partition and commence the
formation of the pyramidal base of two cells corresponding in
position with that just described, and these in like manner prose-
cute their labours, constantly relieving each other.

78. While the nurses are thus employed in converting the rough
partition into the pyramidal bases of cells, and in forming the
hexagonal tubes corresponding to these pyramidal bases, the wax-
makers return and, resuming their labour, increase the magnitude
of the partition in every direction, the nurses meanwhile still
prosecuting their operations.

After having worked the pyramidal bases of the cells of one
row into their proper forms, they polish them and give them a
high finish, while others are engaged in laying out the next
series.

79, In fig. 33, is represented one of the faces of such a partition

Fig. 33. Fig. 34.

as is here described, after it has been formed into a continuous
system of pyramidal bases. These are intended to represent the
bases of the cells of the workers. A similar piece showing the
bases of the cells of the drones is represented in fig. 34,
80. The cells themselves, consisting, as already explained, of
38

CONSTRUCTION OF COMBS.

hexagonal prismatic tubes, are the next objects of the industry
and skill of the nurses. These are cemented on the borders of the
pyramidal cavities shown in figs. 26 and 27.

81. The surfaces represented in figs. 33 and 34 having a contour
very unequal, the edges of the pyramidal cavities being inclined to
each other, so as to form angles alternately salient and re-entrant,
the first work of the bees is to form those parts of the prismatic sides
of the cells which are necessary to fill up the re-entrant angles of
the contours of the pyramidal bases. When this has been accom-
plished, the contours of all the hexagonal divisions extended over
the surface of the partition, represented in figs. 33 and 34, are
brought to a common level, and from that point the labour of the
little artificers becomes more simple, consisting of the construction
of the oblong rectangles which form the remainder of the six sides
of each cell.

82. It must nevertheless be remarked, that the first row of
cells, being necessarily attached to the roof of the hive, and not
at its upper edge connected like the other rows with other similar
cells, has an exceptional form, these being not hexagonal, but
pentagonal ; two of the sides of the ordinary cells being replaced
by the roof of the hive, as shown in figs. 33 and 34. A corre-
sponding exceptional form is of course also given to the bases of
the first row of cells.

The combs constructed in this manner are ranged in vertical
planes parallel one to the other in the hive, as shown in per-
spective in fig. 35, in vertical section in fig. 36, and in horizontal

Fig. 35. Fig. 36.

section in fig. 37. They are not always ranged strictly in single
parallel lines; but are sometimes bent at an angle, as shown in
tig. 37.
An end view of a comb, showing the mouths of the cells fore-
shadowed by perspective, is represented in fig. 38.
83. The flat sides of a comb are not strictly parallel, but
39

THE BEE.

generally slightly inclined one to the other, so that the thickness
gradually diminishes from top to bottom, as shown in the vertical
section, fig. 36. This gradation of thickness is continued to a

Fig. 37. Fig. 33.

certain point, while the width of the comb is continually aug-
mented; but so soon as the workers obtain sufficient space to
lengthen it, it begins to lose this form, and the surfaces become
sensibly parallel.

84. A certain class of naturalists, who have directed their at-
tention to the history of this insect, appear to have taken a
pleasure in forming hypotheses, by which it would be reduced to
a mere machine. Thus, according to them, the formation of the
various parts of the comb would result from a mere mechanical
necessity, the organs of the insect being supposed to be so formed
that the different parts of the cells would receive their forms by a
mechanical process, as in certain operations in the arts the most
exact geometrical forms are imparted to materials by punches and
dies expressly made for the purpose.

Between such expedients and the organs of this admirable
insect, there is, however, not the remotest analogy.

The mechanical instruments with which they work are the
feet, the mandibles, and the tongue, the operations of which are
guided by the antenne, which are feelers of exquisite sensibility.
They do not remove in their operations a single particle of wax,
until the surface to be sculptured has been carefully explored by
the antenne. These organs are so flexible and so easily applied
to all parts, however delicate, of their workmanship, that they
are capable of performing the offices of square and compass,
measuring the minutest parts with the utmost precision, so as to
guide the work in the dark, and produce with unerring precision
that wondrous structure called the comb.

85. It is impossible to behold a dissected comb without per-
eciving the geometrical necessity which connects one part with

40

CONSTRUCTION OF COMBS.

another. In the formation of such a structure, chance can have
no share. The original mass of wax is augmented by the labour
of the wax-makers in the exact quantity which is necessary ; and
these wax-makers, who thus are constantly on the watch to
observe the progress of the comb, so as to keep the artificer-bees
constantly supplied with the necessary quantity of raw material,
are themselves utterly destitute of the art and science necessary to’
construct the cells.

86. The bees never commence the construction of two contiguous
and parallel combs together, for the obvious reason, as it should
seem, that to make one parallel to and at a given distance from
another, the actual formation of one must be first accomplished to
acertain point. They therefore begin by the middle comb; and
when that has been constructed to a certain depth, measured from
the top of the hive, two other combs, parallel to it and at regu-
lated distances from it at either side, are commenced ; and when
these again are completed to a certain depth, two others outside
these are commenced, and so on. This order of proceeding is
attended with a further advantage by preventing the workers on
one comb from being inconveniently crowded or obtruded upon
by those of the adjacent combs.

87. The labour of the bees is conducted in common, but not
always simultaneously. Every partial operation is commenced
hy one individual bee, who is succeeded in her labours by others,
each appearing to act individually in a direction depending on the
condition in which she finds the work when it falls into her hands.
The whole band of wax-makers, for example, is in complete
inaction until one of them goes forth to lay the foundation of a
comb. Immediately the labours of this one are succeeded and
seconded by the others, and, when their part is done, an individual
nurse-bee goes to lay out the plan of the first cell, and is in like
manner succeeded continuously by others.

88. ‘‘The diameter of the cells intended for the larve of the
workers is alway 22 lines, and that of those meant for the
larvee of the males or drones 3} lines. The male-cells are géne-
rally in the middle of the combs, or in their sides; rarely in
their upper part. They are never insulated, but form a corre-
sponding group on both sides the comb. When the bees form
male-cells below those of neuters, they construct many rows of
intermediate ones, the diameter of which augments progressively
till it attains that of a male-cell; and they observe the same
method when they revert from the male-cells to those of workers.
It appears to be the disposition of the gueen which decides the
kind of cells that are to be made; while she lays the eggs of
workers, no male-cells are constructed; but when she is about to

41

THE BEE,

lay the eggs of males, the workers appear to know it, and act
accordingly. When there is a very large harvest of honey, the
bees increase the diameter and even the length of their cells. At
this time many irregular combs may be seen with cells of twelve,
fifteen, and even eightcen lines in length. Sometimes, also, they
have occasion to shorten the cells. When they wish to lengthen an
old comb, the sides of which have acquired their full dimensions,
they gradually diminish the thickness of its edges, gnawing down
the sides of the cells till it assumes the lenticular form; they
then engraft a mass of wax round it, and so proceed with new
cells.” *

89. The number of cells contained in the combs of a well-
stocked hive is considerable. In a hive twenty inches high and
fourteen inches diameter, they often amount to forty or fifty
thousand. A piece of comb, measuring fourteen inches long and
seven inches wide, containing about 4000 cells, is frequently con-
‘structed in twenty-four hours.

90. Nothing can be more admirable than the tender solicitude
and foresight shown by the bee towards its offspring. Although
these insects provide a great number of cells, as storehouses, for the
honey intended for the use of the community, yet the object which
more exclusively engrosses them is the care of their young, to the
provision and rearing of which they sacrifice all personal and
selfish considerations. In a new swarm, accordingly, the first
care of these insects is to construct cradles for their young, and
the next, to provide an ample store of a peculiar sort of pap,
called bee-bread, for their food.

This bee-bread consists of the pollen of flowers, which the
workers at this time are incessantly employed in gathering, flying
from flower to flower, brushing from the stamens their yellow
treasure, which they collect in the little baskets with which their
hind-legs are so admirably provided. They then hasten back to
‘the hive, where, having deposited the store thus collected, they
return to seek a new load.

Another troop of labourers are in constant attendance in the
hive to receive the stock of bee-bread thus collected, which they
carefully store up until such time as the queen has laid her eggs.
These eggs she places in an upright position in the bottoms of the
cells, where they are severally hatched.

91. The bee-bread is converted into a sort of pap, or whitish
jelly, by being swallowed by the bee, in the stomach of which it is
probably mixed with honey and then regurgitated.

The moment the young brood issue from the eggs in the state of
larve, they are diligently fed with this jelly by the class of bees

* Kirby, i. 419.
42

ORGANS OF THE BEE.

called nurses, who attend them with all the solicitude implied by
their title, renewing the pap several times a day, as fast as it is
consumed,

The curious observer will see, from time to time, different
nurses introduce their heads into the cells containing the young.
If they see that the stock of pap is not exhausted, they imme-
diately withdraw and pass on to other cells; but if they find, on
the contrary, the provision consumed, they never fail to deposit a
fresh supply. These nurses go their rounds all day long in rapid
succession thus surveying the cradles, and never stopping except
where they find the supply of food nearly exhausted.

92. That the duty of these tender nurses is one which requires
the exertion of some skill will be understood, when it is stated
that the quality of food suitable to the young varies with their age.
When they first emerge from the egg the jelly must be thin and
insipid, and, according as they approach to maturity, it requires
to be more strongly aapeenates with the saccharine and acid
principles.

Not only does the ‘food of the larva thus require to be varied
according to its age, but the food to be supplied to different larvee
is altogether different. The jelly destined for the larve which
are to become queens, is totally different from that prepared for
those of drones and workers, being easily distinguished by its
sharp and pungent flavour; and it is probable, also, that the jelly
appropriated to the drones differs from that upon which the
workers are reared.

These insécts, moreover, exhibit as much economy as skill;
the quantity of food provided being as accurately proportioned to
the wants of the young as its quality is to their varying functions.
So accurately is the supply proportioned to the wants of the larve,
that, when they have attained their full growth and are about to
undergo their final metamorphosis into nymphs, not an atom of
‘bee-bread is left unconsumed.

93. At the epoch of this metamorphosis, when the nymph needs
seclusion to spin its cocoon, and has no further occasion for food,
these tender nurses, with admirable foresight, terminate their cares
by sealing up each cell, enclosing the nymph with a woven lid.

In all the maternal cares described above, neither the drones nor
the queen participate. These duties fall exclusively upon the
workers, and are divided between them, as has been explained, the
task of collecting the bee-bread being appropriated to one set, and
that of feeding and tending the young to another. This duty has no
cessation ; as the queen lays her eggs successively and constantly,
the young arrive successively at the epoch of their first metamor-

phosis; and, consequently, so soon as some are sealed up and
43

THE BEE.

abandoned by the nurses to spin their cocoons, others issue from
the egg and demand the same maternal care ; so that these nurses
spend their whole existence in the discharge of the offices here
described.

94, Although the organisation of other species of the bee does
not approach to the perfection of the hive-bee here described, it is
nevertheless worthy of attention and study.

The humble-bees, which so far as respects their social policy,
compared with the hive-bee, may be regarded as rude and un-
civilised rustics, exhibit nevertheless marks of affection for their
young quite as strong as their more polished neighbours.

Unlike the queen of the hive, the females take a considerable
share in the education of the young. When one of these provident
mothers has constructed with great labour and much skill a com-
modious woven cell, she furnishes it with a store of pollen moist-
ened with honey, and, having deposited six or seven eggs in it,
carefully closes the opening and all the interstices with wax ; but
her maternal cares do not end here. By a strange instinct, pro-
bably necessary to restrain an undue increase of the population,
the workers, while she is laying her eggs, endeavour to seize
them, and, if they succeed, greedily devour them. Her utmost
vigilance and activity are scarcely sufficient to save them; and it
is only after she has again and again repelled the murderous
intruders, and pursued them to the furthest verge of the nest,
that she succeeds in accomplishing her object ; and even when she
has sealed up the cell containing them, she is obliged to continue
to guard it for six oreight hours; since otherwise the gluttonous
workers would break it open and devour the eggs. The mother is
conscious, however, by a heaven-inspired knowledge, of the time
when the eggs will cease to excite the appetites of the depredators.

After this the cells remain unmolested until the larva issues
from the eggs. The maternal cares having there ceased, the
workers, before so eager to devour the eggs, now assume the
character of nurses. They know the precise hour when the larvze
will have consumed the stock of food, provided for them by
maternal care, and from that time to the period of their maturity
these nurses continually feed them with honey or pollen, introduced
in their proboscis through a small hole in the cover of the cell
opened for the purpose, and then carefully closed.

95. These nursing-workers also perform another duty of a most
curious and interesting description. As the larva increases in
size, the cell, which has been appropriated to it, becomes too small
for its body, and in its exertions to obtain room it splits the thin
woven walls which confine it. The workers, who are constantly
on the watch for this, lose no time in repairing the breach, which

44

HUMBLE-BEES,

they patch up with wax as often as the fracture takes placc, so
that in this way the cell increases in size until the larva arrives
at maturity.

96. As in the case of the hive-bee already described, the larva
after the first metamorphosis, is shut up in the enlarged cell to
spin its cocoon. When this labour has been completed, and that
the perfect insect is about to issue, the workers still discharging
the duty of tender foster-parents, set about to assist the little
prisoner in cutting open the cocoon, from which it emerges in its
perfect state.

97. While in the pupa state, however, another tender and con-
siderate measure of the workers must not be passed without notice.
It is essential to the well-being of the pupa that while concealed
in the cocoon it should be maintained at a genial temperature.
To secure this object, the workers collect upon the cocoons in cold
weather and at night, so that by brooding over them they may
impart the necessary warmth.

98. The following curious anecdote connected with this subject
is related by Huber. :

“He put under a bell-glass about a dozen humble-bees,
without any store of wax, along with a comb of about ten silken
cocooris, so unequal in height that it was impossible the mass
should stand firmly. Its unsteadiness disquieted the humbie-bees
extremely. Their affection for their young led them to mount
upon the cocoons for the sake of imparting warmth to the enclosed
little ones, but in attempting this the comb tottered so violently
that the scheme was almost impracticable. To remedy this
‘inconvenience, and to make the comb steady, they had recourse
to a most ingenious expedient. Two or three bees got upon the
comb, stretched themselves over its edge, and with their heads
downwards fixed their fore-feet on the table upon which it stood,
whilst with their hind-feet they keptit from falling. In this con-
strained and painful posture, fresh bees relieving their comrades
when weary, did these affectionate little insects support the comb
for nearly three days. At the end of this period they had pre-
pared a sufficiency of wax, with which they built pillars that kept
it in a firm position: but by some accident afterwards, these got
displaced, when they had again recourse to their former mancuvre
for supplying their place ; and this operation they perseveringly
continued, until M. Huber, pitying their hard task, relieved them
by fixing the object of their attention firmly on the table.” *

It is impossible not to be struck with the reflection, that this
most singular fact is inexplicable on the supposition, that insects
are impelled to their operations by a blind instinct alone. How

* Linnean Trans., vi. 247, et seq. z

THE BEE,

could mere machines have thus provided for a case which in a
state of nature has probably never occurred to ten nests of humble-
bees since the creation? If in this instance these little animals
were not guided by a process of reasoning, what is the distinction
between reason and instinct ? How could the most profound
architect have better adapted the means to the end—how more
dexterously shored up a tottering edifice, until his beams and his
props were in readiness ? *

99. The following remarkable example of the care bestowed by
the nurses in keeping the pupa warm, more especially during the
day which immediately precedes its exit from the cocoon as a
perfect insect—an epoch, when as it would seem it is more
especially necessary that it should be maintained at an elevated
temperature,—was supplied by Mr. Newport. That naturalist
observed that in the process of incubation, the humble-bee at that
particular stage increased considerably the force of its respiration.
To render the purpose of this intelligible to the reader not accus-
tomed to physiological enquiries, it may be necessary to state that
in the act of respiration the oxygen, which is one of the constitu-
ents of the atmosphere, enters into combination with the carbon
and hydrogen, which compose part of the body of the animal.
Now this combination being identical with that which produces
heat in a common coal fire or the flame of a lamp, the same
effect is produced in the animal economy from the same cause ;
and hence it arises that the development of heat in the body is
always so much the greater, in proportion to the increased activity
of respiration.

100. To return to the hive-bee, it was observed by Mr. Newport
that in the early stage of the incubation of the pupa, the rate of
respiration of the insect is very gradual, but becomes more and
more frequent as the epoch approaches at which it issues from the
cocoon; the number of respirations per minute then amounting
to 120 or 130.

Mr. Newport states that he has seen a bee upon the combs con-
tinue perseveringly to respire at that rate for eight or ten hours,
until its temperature was greatly increased and its body bathed
in perspiration. When exhausted in this way it would retire
from its maternal duty and give place to another foster-mother,
who would proceed in the same way to impart warmth to the
pupa.

In one case Mr. Newport found that while the thermometer in
the external air stood at 70°2, it rose on the lips of these cells
which were not brooded upon at the moment, to 80-2, but when
placed in contact with the bodies of the brooding bees, it rose

* Kirby, Int., i. 320.
46

FIRST LAYING OF THE QUEEN.

to 92:5. It appears therefore that by the voluntary increase of
their respiration they were enabled to impart to the nymph
enclosed in the cocoon 12:3 additional degrees of heat.*

101. In every well-filled hive the combs are ranged in parallel
planes, as shown in figs. 36, 37; and that no space may be lost,
while at the same time sufficient room is left for the movements
of the workers, the open spaces between the parallel combs leave
a width just sufficient to allow two bees easily to pass each other.
These open spaces are the streets of the apiarian city, the high-
ways along which the building materials are carried while the
combs are in process of construction, through which the supply of
provisions is carried to the stores, and food to the young, who are
being reared in the cells.

But since the nurses must tend the cells of all the combs, and
therefore pass successively and frequently from street to street,
they would be compelled to descend to the lower edge of the comb
to arrive at an adjacent street, unless cross alleys were provided
at convenient points to abridge such journeys. The prudent
architects foresee this in laying out their city, and make such
passages, alleys, or arcades, by which the bees can pass from any
street to the adjacent parallel street, without going the long way
round.

102. On the return of spring, when the genial temperature of the
weather begins to produce its wonted effects on vegetation, and
when the vernal plants which the bees love begin to put forth
their foliage and flower, the busy population of the hive re-
commence their labours; and the queen, who has passed the
winter in repose, attended by her devoted subjects, and feeding
on the stores laid up by them during the previous season, com-
mences laying her great brood of eggs. At this epoch she is
much larger than at the cessation of her laying in the autumn.
Before she deposits an egg, she examines carefully the cell
destined for it, putting her head and shoulders into it, and
remaining there for some time, as if to assure herself that the
cradle of her offspring has been put in proper order. Having
satisfied herself of this, she withdraws her head, and introducing
the posterior extremity of her abdomen deposits a single egg upon
the pyramidal base of the cell, which adheres there in the manner
already described.

She then passes to another empty cell, where, after the same
precautions, she deposits another egg, and so continues, sometimes
committing to the cells two hundred eggs and upwards in the day.

103. In this operation, so essential to the maintenance of the
population, she is assiduously followed and most respectfully

* Philosophical Trans., 1537, p. 296.
47

THE BEE.

surrounded by a certain train of her subjects, appointed apparently
to attend her, and form the ladies-in-waiting on the occasion. They
range themselves in a circle around her (fig. 39). From time to time

Fig. 39.—The yuecn depositiug ler eggs mn the eclis, surruunded by her suite.

the individuals of her suite approach her and present her with
honey. They enter the cells where the eggs have been deposited,
and carefully clean them, and prepare them for the reception of
the pap which is to feed the young when it issues from the egg.

104. In some exceptional cases, where her majesty is rendered
over prolific by any accidental cause, the eggs will drop from her
faster than she can pass from cell to cell, and in such cases two
or more eggs will be deposited in the same cell. Since the cells
are constructed only of sufficient magnitude for the due accom-
modation of a single bee, the royal attendants in such cases
always take away the supernumerary eggs, which they devour,
leaving no more than one in each cell (fig. 40).

The eggs are oval and oblong, about the twelfth of an inch in
length, of a bluish white colour, and a little bent. They are
hatched by the natural warmth of the hive (from 76° to 96° Fahr.),
in from three to six days, the interval depending on the tem-
perature of the weather.

48

Fig. 58. —VILLAGE HIVES,

THE BEE.
ITS CHARACTER AND MANNERS.

—_+—_.

CHAPTER IV.

105. The larve.—106. Transformation of worker nymph.—107. Worker
cells, —108. Treatment of a young worker.—109. Of the drone.—110.
Drone nymph.—111. Royal cell and nymph.—112. Its treatment.—
118. Honey cells.—114. Pasturage—progress of work.—115. Con-
struction of comb.—116. Remarkable organisation.—117. Magnitude
and weight of bees.—118. Character of queen.—119. Royal jealousy.
—120. Principle of primogeniture.—121. Assassination of rivals. —
122. Battle of virgin queens.—123. Reason of mutual hostility.—
124, Result of the battles.—125. Battle of married queens.—126.
Battle of a virgin with a fertile queen.—127. Sentinels at the gates.
Treatment of an intruding queen.—128. Remarkable proceeding of
bees that have lost their queen—effect of her restoration.—129.
Effect of the introduction of a new queen.—130. Policy of the hive.—
131. Operations at the beginning of a season.

105. Tue larva which issues from the egg is a white grub, des-
titute of legs, having its body divided transversely by a series of
parallel circular grooves into annular segments. When it has
Larpyer’s Muszum or Sorencr, B 49

No, 123,

THE BEE.

grown so as to touch the opposite angle of the cell, it coils itself
up in the form of a circular arc, or as Swammerdam describes
it, like a dog going to sleep. It floats
there in a whitish transparent fluid, pro-
vided for it by the nurses, on which it
probably feeds during this early stage of
its life. Its dimensions are gradually en-
Fig. 41. larged until its extremities touch one ano-
ther, so as to form a complete ring, fig. 41,
in the base of the cell. In this state the
. grub is fed with the pap or bee bread
already mentioned. The slightest move-
ment on the part of the nursing bees is
- sufficient to attract its attention, and it
eagerly opens its little jaws to receive the:
offered nourishment, the supply of which,
presented by the nurse, is liberal without being profuse.

The growth of the larva is completed in from four to six days,.
according to the temperature of the weather. In cool weather
the development takes two days more than in warm weather.

When it has attained its full growth, it occupies the whole
breadth and a great part of the leagth of the cell. The nurses at

this time knowing that the moment has.
Fig. 44. arrived at which the first metamor-
phosis, in which the grub is changed
into a nymph, takes place, discontinue
the supply of food, and close up the
mouth of the cell by a light brown
waxen cover, which is convex externally.
This convexity of the cover is greater in the drone cells than
in those of the workers. The covers of the honey cells are, on
the contrary, made paler in colour, and quite flat or even a little.
concave externally,

When the larva has been thus enclosed, it immediately com-.
mences, like the silk-worm, to spin a cocoon. In this labour it is
incessantly employed, lining the sides of its cell and encasing its
own body in a white silken robe. The threads which form this.
mantle issue from the middle of the under lip of the nymph, as
the insect in this intermediate state between that of the grub and
the perfect bee is called. This thread consists of two filaments,.
which, issuing from two adjoining orifices in the spinner, are then
gummed together.

106. The nymph of a worker spins its robe in thirty-six hours,.
and after passing three days in this preparatory state, it undergoes.
so great a change as to lose every vestige of its previous form. It

Fig. 40.

METAMORPHOSES.

is clothed with a harder coating, with dark brown scales, fringed
with light hairs. Six annular segments are distinguished on its
abdomen, which are inserted one into another like the joints of a
telescope tube, and give the insect the power of elongating and
contracting itself within certain limits. The breast is also
invested with a sort of brush of grey feathery hairs, which as age
advances assume a reddish hue. In about twelve days all the
parts of the body of the perfect insect are developed, and can be
seen through the semi-transparent robe in which it is clothed.

About the twenty-first day, counting from that on which the
egg was laid, the second metamorphosis is complete, and the
perfect insect, gnawing through the cover of its
cell, issues into life, leaving behind it the silken Fig. 45.
robe which it wore in the intermediate state of
nymph. This is closely attached to the inner
surface of the cell in which it was woven, and
forms a permanent lining of it. By this cause pupa of a worker.
the breeding cells become smaller and. smaller,
as the eggs are successively hatched in them, until at length
their capacity becomes too limited for the full development of the
nymphs. They are then turned into store rooms for honey.

107. In fig. 46 is represented apiece of comb, consisting exclu+
sively of workers’ cells, in different states. Several, c, c, c, &c., are
closed, thenymph not having yet undergone its final metamorphosis.
A bee having arrived at the perfect state and gnawed open the

Fig. 46.

cover of its cell, is shown at m. The cells, 4, h, have their
openings on the opposite side of the comb, and g, g, g, are cells
from which the perfect insects have already issued. .

E2 bl

THE BEE.

108. When a young bee, after its final metamorphosis, has issued
from the cell, the nurses crowd round it, carefully brushing it,
giving it nourishment and showing it the way through the hive.
Others meanwhile are occupied in cleaning the cell from which
it has issued and putting it in order to receive another egg if it.
be still large enough, and if not, to receive a store of honey.

The young bee is not sufficiently strong to fly on the first day.
It is only on the morrow, after being well fed and brushed down
by the nurses, and having taken a walk from time to time through
the combs, that it ventures on the wing.

109. The drone passes three days in the egg, and continues to
receive the care of the nurses as a grub until the tenth day, when it
passes into the state of nymph, and is sealed up in its cell by the

Fig. 47.

nurses with a very convex cover. As already stated, the drone
grub being larger than that of the worker, the cell assigned to it
is proportionately more capacious, and the cover by which asa
nymph it is shut up is much more convex externally. A piece of
comb consisting of drone cells is shown in fig. 47.

Some cells, a, 0, 0, being those from which the perfect insect
has issued, are open and empty.

Near the borders of the comb, where local circumstances render
it necessary to modify the principles of its architecture so as to
accommodate the cells to their position in the hiye, may be

52 ,

METAMORPHOSES,

observed several, A, A, of unusual and irregular forms, While
some such cells have six unequal sides, others have only four or
five. It seems also that in the case of certain cells intended only
for the reception of honey, the bee is not at all as scrupulous in
the observance of architectural regularity as in the case of brood
cells.

110. The drone nymph undergoes its final metamorphosis and
becomes a perfect insect, from the twenty-fifth to the twenty-
seventh day from that on which the egg is laid, according to the
temperature of the hive. It is therefore six or seven days later
in arriving at maturity than the worker.

111. The changes to which the young of the royal family are
subject before arriving at maturity, are different from those above
stated. It has been already explained that the royal cells are
vertical instead of being horizontal, are egg-shaped instead of
being hexagonal, and in fine are much more capacious than those

Fig. 48.

of the drones or workers. One of these cells is shown at rs in
fig. 48, a part, wu, being removed to show the royal nymph
within it. It will be observed that a much larger space is given
to the royal nymph than is allowed either to that of the worker
or the drone, the bodies of which nearly fill their respective cells.
The royal nymph is always placed, as shown in the figure, with
her head downwards.

The progressive formation of a royal cell is shown in fig. 49,
It is unfinished, as at a, when the egg is deposited; and is gradually
enlarged, c, as the grub increases in size ; and is sealed up, 6, when
it is transformed into a nymph. ae

THE BEE.

The grub issues from the egg on the third day, becomes a
nymph from the eighth to the eleventh day, and undergoes its

Fig. 49.

final metamorphosis, becoming a perfect insect on the seventeenth
day. It is, however, sometimes detained a prisoner in the cell
for seven or eight days longer.

112. Naturalists are not agreed as to some of the circumstances
attending the treatment of the young, which we have here given
on the authority of Feburier and other French entomologists.
Mr. Dunbar, in reference to the circumstances attending the first
issuing of the perfect insect from the cell, says that in hundreds
of instances their situation has excited his compassion, when
after long struggling to escape from its cradle, it has at last
succeeded so far as to extrude its head, and when Iabouring with
the most eager impatience, and on the very point of extricating
its shoulders also, which would have at once secured its exit, a
dozen or two of workers, in following their avocations, have
trampled without ceremony over the struggling creature, which,
was then forced for the safety of its head, quickly to pop down
again into the cell and wait until the unfeeling crowd had passed,
before it could renew its efforts. Again and again will the same
impatient efforts be repeated by the same individual, and with
the same mortifying interruptions, before it succeeds in obtaining
its freedom. Not the slightest attention or sympathy on the part
of the workers in these cases was ever observed by Mr. Dunbar,
nor did he ever witness the parental cares and sage instruction

given to the young which are described by the French
entomologists,
54

ROYAL NYMPH.

Positive, however, is more entitled to consideration than
negative testimony, and it cannot be doubted that Feburier and
others witnessed those cares, guidance, and education which they
have so well described. Besides, Dr. Bevan admits that he has
seen assistance rendered to the infant drones, So soon as the
young insect has been cleanea of its exuvie and regaled with
honey by the nurses, the latter clean out the cell exactly as we
have already described.

113. A piece of comb is shown in fig. 50, the upper part a, of
which contains honey-cells closed with flat sides of wax. The
cells, c c, &., contain pollen, and c’ c’, &c., propolis. The cells

Fig. 50.

of the upper part are those which originally belonged to workers,
and those of the lower part, with convex covers, are occupied by
the drone nymphs.

114, The various flowers and herbs which supply the materials
for honey, wax, and propolis taken collectively, are called the
pasturage of the bees, and it is observed that when this pasturage
is very abundant, the bees, eager to profit by the rich harvest,
depart from their habit of conveying their booty first to the
uppermost cells of the comb, so as to fill them gradually down-
wards. On the contrary, upon arriving with their load, and eager
to return for a fresh supply, they unload themselves in the nearest
empty cells they can find. The wax-makers meanwhile charge

THE BEE.

themselves with the labour of taking the provisions thus deposited
from the lower to the upper parts of the combs.

115. In fig. 51, is shown a piece of comb in process of construc-
tion. It has, as usual, an oval form. The wax, of which it is
formed, is white, but as it advances in age it takes successively a

Fig. 51,

darker and darker colour, being first yellow, then reddish, and
sometimes even beeomes blackish. The sides of the cells are
gradually thickened, by the constant adhesion and accumulation
of the cocoons, of which the nymphs successively bred in them are
divested. The top and sides of the comb are every where
strongly cemented, by a mixture of propolis and wax, to the roof
and sides of the hive. These structures are almost never known
to fall except by some accidental cause external to the hive, such
as a blow or the too intense heat of the sun dissolving the
cement. :

116, The character and manners of the bee have an intimate
relation with its social organisation. We have seen that in the

56

‘ WEIGHT OF BEES,

building of their city this organisation is never for a moment lost
sight of. The chambers vary in number, magnitude, form, and posi-
tion. Those designed for the members of the royal family are few
and exceptional, those for the drones much more numerous, but
about one hundred times less numerous than those of the workers.
The magnitudes are in like manner strictly regulated, in relation
to the volume of the body of the occupant, except the royal
chambers to which a magnitude is given much greater in propor-
tion than that of the bodies of the royal tenants. The object to
be attained by this increased capacity, as well as by the vertical
position specially given to the royal cells, has not been ascertained.

117. How little relation there exists between mere bodily
magnitude, and the faculties which govern acts so remarkable as
those of the insects now before us, will be understood when it is
stated that, according to the experiments of Reaumur, the average
weight of the bee is such that 336 go to an ounce, and 5376 to
a pound; and John Hinton found that 2160 workers would not
more than fill a common pint.

118. Having thus explained in a general way the persons com-
posing the society, and the structure and architecture of their
dwellings, we shall proceed to notice some of the more remarkable
traits of their character and manners.

It has been already explained that the community of the hive
bees is strictly a female monarchy. The jealous Semiramis of the
hive, as Kirby observes, will have no rival near her throne. It
may, therefore, be asked to what purpose are the sixteen or
twenty princesses reared, for whom royal chambers are provided,
and who are treated in all respects by the nurses as aspirants to
the throne? This will be comprehended, however, when it is
remembered that the hive, soon after the commencement of the
season, becomes so enormously over-peopled, that emigration
becomes indispensable, and that with each emigrant swarm a
queen is necessary. Hither therefore the queen regnant must go
forth, abdicating the throne, in which case it is ascended by the
eldest of the princesses, or the latter is raised to the sovereignty ef
the emigrating colony. Now, since a rapid succession of swarms
issue from the hive, especially in the early part of the season,
sometimes as many as four in eighteen days, and since one queen
is required for each, a proportionately numerous royal family is
required to fill so many independent thrones.

119. When the growth of several princesses and their arrival
at maturity occurs, before the increase of the population renders
emigration necessary, so as to create thrones for them, the most
violent jealousy is excited in the breast of the queen regnant,
who is either mother or sister to these several queens presumptive,

ee

THE BEE,

and her royal breast is fired with agitation, nor does she rest until
‘she has engaged in mortal conflict with her rivals, and either puts
them to death or suffers death at their hands.

120. When a hive, having lost its queen by emigration or other-
-wise, is provided with several royal cells, which generally happens,
the first princess which issues from these in the perfect state im-
mediately ascends the throne in right of primogeniture. Although
her rivals are not yet in a condition to dispute the title, they,
nevertheless, excite her jealousy in the highest degree. Scarcely
ten minutes elapse from the moment she has attained the perfect
‘state, and issued from the royal cell, when she goes in quest of the
other royal cells, assails with fury the first she encounters, and
having gnawed a large hole in it she introduces the posterior
-extremity of her abdomen, and kills her rival with her sting.

121. A crowd of workers, who are passive spectators of this, ap-
proach the cell, and enlarging the breach, drag out the corpse of the
murdered princess, who, in such cases, has already assumed the
perfect state. If the queen attack in like manner a cell of which
‘the occupant is still in the state of nymph, she does not waste her
strength in slaying it, well knowing that its premature exposure
will do the work of death. The workers, in this case also enlarg-
ing the breach made by the queen, pull out the nymph, who
immediately perishes,

122. Huber, who witnessed, and has described all these curious
proceedings, being desirous to ascertain what would happen if two
rival queens, both in the perfect state, found themselves together
‘in the same hive, produced artificially that contingency on the
15th May, 1790. He managed to provide in the same hive
royal cells, in an equal stage of forwardness, so that virgin
queens issued from two of them almost at the same moment.

When they appeared in presence of each other they fell upon
each other with all the appearance of insatiable fury, and so
engaged one with the other, that each held in her mandibles the
antenne of the other. They were engaged breast to breast, and
-abdomen to abdomen, so that if each had put forth her sting,
mutual death would have been the consequence. Butas if nature
had forbidden this mutual destruction, the combatants disengaged
themselves from each other’s grasp, and fled one from the other
with the greatest precipitation.

Huber says that this was not a mere incident which might have
-occurred in a single case, but would not occur in others, for he
Tepeated the same experiment frequently, and it was always
followed by the same result. It seemed, therefore, as though it
‘were a case foreseen by nature, and that one only of the
combatants should fall in such combats.

58

BATTLE OF QUEENS.

123. Nature has ordained that in each hive there shall be one,
and but one queen, and when by any concurrence of circumstances
asecond appears, one or the other is doomed to destruction. But it
is not permitted to the common class of the people to do execution
on a royal personage, since in that case it might not be possible to
secure unanimity as to the particular queen who is to be preserved, -
so that different assemblages of the people might at the same time
assail different queens, and so leave the hive without a sovereign.’
At was, therefore, necessary, as Huber argues, that the extermina-
tion of the superfluous queens should be left to the queens them-
selves, and that they should in their combats be filled with an
instinctive horror of mutual destruction.

Some minutes after the two queens above mentioned had
‘separated and retired from each other, and when their fears had
time to subside, they again prepared to approach each other.
They engaged once more in the same position, involving the
‘danger of mutual destruction, and as before, once again separated
and mutually fled each other.

124. During all this time the greatest agitation prevailed among
the population who assisted at the scene, more especially when the
two combatants separated. On two different occasions the workers
interfered to prevent them from flying from one another. They
arrested them in their flight, seizing them by the legs and detain-
ing them prisoners for more than a minute. In fine, in a last
attack, one of the queens, more active and furious than the other,
taking her rival unawares, laid hold of her with her mandibles
at the insertion of the wing, and then mounting on her back,
and bringing the posterior extremity of her abdomen to the
‘junction of one of the abdominal segments of her adversary,
stabbed her mortally with her sting. She then let go the wing
which she had previously held and withdrew her sting.

The vanquished queen fell, dragged her body slowly along for
a certain distance, and soon after expired.

125. Having thus ascertained the conduct of virgin queens under
the circumstances here described, Huber made Arrangements for
observing the conduct of queens who were in a condition to pro-
duce eggs. For this purpose he placed a piece of comb on which
three royal cells had been constructed in a hive with a laying
queen. The moment they caught her eye she fell upon them,
opened them at their bases, and surrendered them to the
attendant workers, who lost no time in dragging out the royal
nymphs, greedily devouring the store of food which remained in
the cells, and sucking whatever was in the carcases. Having
accomplished this they proceeded to demolish the cells.

It was now resolved to ascertain what would be the behaviour of

59

THE BEE.

a queen-mother regnant in case a stranger queen pregnant were
introduced into the hive. A mark having been previously made
upon the back of such a queen, so that she might be afterwards
identified, she was placed in the hive. Immediately on her
appearance the workers collected in a crowd around her, and
formed as usual a circle of which she was the centre, the heads of
all the remaining crowd being directed towards her. This very
soon became so dense that she became an absolute prisoner
within it.

While this was going on, a similar ring was formed by another
group of workers round the queen regnant, so that she was
likewise for the moment a prisoner.

The two queens being thus in view of each other, if either
evinced a disposition 0 approach and attack the other, the two
rings were immediately opened, so as to give a free passage to the
combatants ; but the moment they showed a disposition to fly
from each other, the rmgs were again closed, so as to retain them
in the spot they occupied.

At length the queen regnant resolved on the conflict, and the
surrounding crowd, seeming to be conscious of her decision,
immediately cleared a passage for her to the place where the
stranger stood perched on the comb. She threw herself with
fury on the latter, seized her by the root of the wing, and fixed
her against the comb so as to deprive her
of all power of movement or resistance,
and then bending her abdomen inflicted
a mortal stab with her sting, and put an
end to the intruder.

126. A fruitful queen full of eggs was
next placed upon one of the combs of a hive
over which a virgin queen already reigned.
She immediately began to drop her eggs,
but not in the cells; nor did the workers,
by a circle of whom she was closely surrounded, take charge of
them; but, sincé no trace of them could be discovered, it is
probable that they were devoured.

The group, by which this intruding queen was surrounded,
having opened a way for her, she moved towards the edge of the
comb, where she found herself close to the place occupied by the
legitimate virgin queen. The moment they perceived each other,
they rushed together with ungovernable fury. The virgin,
mounting on the back of the intruder, stabbed her several times
in the abdomen, but failed to penetrate the scaly covering of the
segments. The combatants then, exhausted for the moment,.

disengaged themselves and retired. After an interval of some
60

SENTINELS AT THE GATES.

minutes they returned to the charge, and this time the intruder
succeeded in mounting on the back of the virgin and giving her
several stabs with her sting, which, however, failed to penetrate
the flesh. The virgin queen, succeeding in disengaging herself,
again retired. Another round succeeded, with the like results,
the virgin still coming undermost, and, after disengaging herself,
again retiring. The combat appeared for some time doubtful,
the rival queens being so nearly equal in strength and power,
when at last, by a lucky chance, the virgin sovereign inflicted a
mortal wound upon the intruder, who fell dead on the spot.

In this case, the sting of the virgin was buried so deep in the
flesh of her opponent, that she found it impossible to withdraw it,
and any attempt to do so by direct force would have been fatal to
‘her. After many fruitless efforts she at length adopted the
following ingenious expedient with complete success. Instead of
exerting her force on the sting by a direct pull, she turned herself
round, giving herself a rotatory motion on the extremity of her
abdomen where the sting had its insertion, as a pivot. In this
way she gradually unscrewed the sting.

127. The gates of the hive are as constantly and regularly
guarded night and day as those of any fortress. The workers
charged with this duty are, of course, regularly relieved. They
scrupulously examine every one who desires to enter; and, as
though distrustful of their eyes, they touch all visitors with their
antenne. If a queen happens to present herself among such
visitors, she is instantly seized and prevented from entering.
The sentinels grasp her legs or wings with their mandibles, and
so surround her that she cannot move. As the report of the event

. spreads through the interior of the hive, large reinforcements of
_ the guard arrive, who augment the dense ranks which hold the
* strange queen in durance.

In general, in such cases, the intruding queen is thus detained
prisoner until she dies from want of food. It is remarked that
the guard, who thus surround and detain her, never use their
stings upon her. In one instance Huber attempted to extricate s.
queen, thus surrounded, by taking her directly out of the ring of
guards. This excited the rage of the guard to such a pitch that,
putting forth their stings, they rushed blindly not only on the
queen but on each other. The queen, as well as several of the

-guard, were killed in the mélée.

‘128. When the sovereign of the hive is removed or accidentally
destroyed, the population seem at first to be wholly unconscious
of their loss, and pursue their usual avocations as if nothing had
happened. But after the lapse of some hours they begin to

manifest a certain degree of uneasiness, This gradually increases,
61

THE BEE.

until the entire hive becomes a scene of tumult, The wax-
makers abandon their work, the nurses desert the infant brood >
they run here and there in all directions through the streets and
passages of the hive as if in delirium. That all this disorder
and alarm is produced by the report spreading that the sovereign
has disappeared, was proved to demonstration by Huber, who
restored to the hive the queen he had purposely withdrawn.
Her majesty was instantly recognised by those who happened to
be assembled at the place of her restoration ; but what is remark-
able is that the intelligence of her return was immediately spread.
through every part of the hive, so that the bees in its most remote.
streets and alleys, who had no opportunity of personally seeing
her majesty, were informed of her re-appearance, as was proved.
by the restoration of order and tranquillity, and the resumption
of their usual labours by all classes of the population.

129, If, instead of restoring to the hive the queen herself, a new
queen, stranger to the population, be introduced, she will not
at first be accepted. She will, on the contrary, be guarded and
imprisoned by a ring of bees, in the same manner as a strange:
queen is treated in a hive which still retains its reigning sovereign.
But if she survives sixteen or eighteen hours in this confinement,
the guard around her gradually disperses itself, and the lady
enters the hive and assumes without further question the state
and dignity of queen, and becomes the object of the homage paid.
to the sovereign.

As we have already stated, the first work which the population
undertakes, after being assured of the loss of its queen, is directed
to obtain a successor to her. If there be not royal cells prepared,
they set about their construction. While this work was in
progress, and in twenty-four hours after their queen had been.

taken from them, Huber introduced into the hive a fruitful queen”

in the prime of life, being eleven months old. Not less than
twelve royal cells had been already commenced and were in a
forward state. The moment the strange queen was placed on
one of the combs, one of the most curious scenes commenced which
was probably ever witnessed in the animal world, and which has
been described by Huber.

The bees who happened to te near the stranger approached her,
touched her with their antenne, passed their probosces over
all parts of her body, and presented her with honey. Then they
retired, giving place to others, who approached in their turn and
went through the same ceremony. All the bees who proceeded
thus clapped their wings in retiring and ranged themselves in a
circle round her, each, as it completed the ceremony, taking a
position behind those who had previously offered their respects, A

62

s

POLICY OF THE HIVE.

general agitation was soon spread on those sides of the combs corre—
sponding with that of the scene here described. From all quarters.
the bees crowded to the spot, and each group of fresh arrivals.
broke their way through the circle, approached the new aspirant
to the throne, touched her with their antennw and probosces,
offered her honey, and, in fine, took their rank outside the circle
previously formed. The bees forming this sort of court circle-
clapped their wings from time to time, and fluttered apparently
with self-gratification, but without the least sign of disorder or-
tumult.

At the end of fifteen or twenty minutes from the commence-
ment of these proceedings the queen, who had hitherto remained
stationary, began to move. Far from opposing her progress or
hemming her in, as in the cases formerly described, the bees.
opened the circle on the side to which she directed her steps,
followed her, and, ranging themselves on either side of her path,
lined the road in the same manner as is done by military bodies.
in state processions. She soon began to lay drone eggs, for which
she sought and found the proper cells in the combs which had
been already constructed.

While these things were passing on the side of the comb where-
the new queen had been placed, all remained perfectly tranquil
on the opposite side. It seemed as though the bees on that side
were profoundly ignorant of the arrival of a new queen on the-
opposite side. They continued to work assiduously at the royal.
cells, the construction of which had been commenced on that side-
of the comb, just as if they were ignorant that they had no
longer need of them; they tended the grubs in those cells where
the eggs had been already hatched, supplying them as usual,
from time to time, with Royal Jelly. But at length the new
queen in her progress arriving at that side of the comb, she was
received by those bees with the same homage and devotion of
which she had been already the object at the other side. They ap-
proached her, coaxed her with their antenne and probosees, offered
her honey, formed a court circle round her when she was stationary,,
and a hedge at either side of her path when she moved, and proved
how entirely they acknowledged her sovereignty by discontinuing
their labour at the royal cells, which they had commenced before-
her arrival, and from which they now removed the eggs and
grubs, and ate the provisions which they had collected in them.

From this moment the queen reigned supreme over the hive,
and was treated in all respects as if she had ascended the throne
in right of inheritance.

130. Most of the proceedings of these curious little societies are

explicable by what seems a general social law among a to

THE BEE.

suffer no individuals or class to continue to exist, save such as are
necessary in one way or another to the well-being of the actual
community, or the continuance of the species. This principle
once admitted, we find explanations satisfactory enough of all the
circumstances attending the conduct of the queen regnant towards
the royal princesses, of the population generally to the several
members of the royal family, and, in fine, of the workers towards
the drones.

The royal family, as we have seen, are all fertile females, and
their sole function is to assume the throne of the hive itself, or
of the colonies called swarms, which successively issue from it,
and thus placed to become the fruitful mothers of thousands,
which will continue the race and form future colonies.

The drones have no other function than that of kings consort
presumptive, either of the hive itself or of the colonies which
successively emigrate from it. As has been explained, one only
is chosen as consort by each queen. So long as the swarming
season continues, a sufficient body of drones are wanted to supply
the necessary troop of suitors to each emigrant princess. But
when the last swarm of the season has gone forth, and the queen
regnant has long since made her choice and celebrated her
nuptials, the drones are no longer useful to the general popula-
tion, and become the objects of a general massacre.

131. After the close of the winter, and at the commencement of
the first fine days of spring, the active life of the society recom-
mences. A well peopled hive is then always provided with a
fertile queen, who has held the sovereignty since the close of
the preceding season. In the months of April and May she begins
to lay drone eggs in great numbers. This is called the great
laying.

While she is thus engaged depositing her eggs in the larger
class of hexagonal cells, previously constructed for their reception,
the workers, well knowing that the deposition of royal eggs will
speedily follow, occupy themselves in constructing a number of
those cells of oval shape and vertical position, (fig. 49,) which
have been already described,

64

Fig. 56.—THE CAB!NET BEE-HOUSE.

in

; THE BEE.
ITS CHARACTER AND MANNERS.

CHAPTER V.

132. Change of state of the queen after laying. —133. First swarm led by
her majesty.—134, Proceedings of the first swarm.—135. Loyalty
and fidelity to the queen—remarkable experiment of Dr. Warder.—
186. Interregnum after swarming.—137. The princess royal. —138.
Second swarm—its effects. —139. Successive swarms.—140. Pro-
duction of a factitious queen—Schirach’s discovery.—141. Factitious
queens dumb.—142. Factitious princesses allowed to engage in mortal
combat.—143. Homage only offered to a married queen.—144. Re-
spect shown to her corpse.—145. Functions of the drones.—146.
Their treatment.—147, Their massacre described by Huber.—148.
Case in which no massacre took place.—149. Character and habits of
the workers.—150. Products of their labours.—151. Process of work.
152. Honey and pollen—nectar and ambrosia.—153. Bee the priest
who celebrates the marriage of the flowers. —154. Why the bee
devotes each excursion to one species of flower.—155. Unloading the
workers.—156. Storage of spare provision.—157. Radius of the circle
of excursion,

Larpyer’s Museum or Science. F 65
No, 125.

THE BEE.

To make this great laying of drone eggs, her majesty must be
at least eleven months old. Supposing that she has been hatched
the preceding season in February, she will lay during that sea-
son workers’ eggs almost exclusively, producing at the most from
fifty to sixty drone eggs. But after the winter, at the epoch
now referred to, the hive being then filled exclusively with
workers, and standing in absolute need of drones to supply
suitors to the future queens, she produces drone eggs constantly
and exclusively until the commencement of the swarming season,
with the exception, however, of a limited number of royal eggs,
which she deposits at intervals more or less distant in the royal
cells just now mentioned, which the workers occupy themselves
in constructing during the great laying.

The great laying usually continues for about a month, and it
is about the twentieth or twenty-first day that the workers begin
to lay the foundations of the royal cells. They generally build
from sixteen to twenty of them, and sometimes even as many as
twenty-seven. When these cells have attained the depth of two-
tenths to three-tenths of an inch, the queen deposits in each of
them successively a royal egg. Now since the princesses which
are to issue from these eggs are destined to ascend the thrones of
the emigrant colonies, which are to issue in succession from the
hive, it is important that they should arrive at maturity at suc-
cessive intervals, corresponding as nearly as possible with the
emigration of the swarms.

The queen acts as if she were conscious of this, for she
deposits the royal eggs, not like the drone or worker eggs in rapid
and uninterrupted succession, but after such intervals as will
insure their arrival at maturity in that slow succession, which
will correspond nearly or exactly with the issue of the successive
swarms.

132. It has been already explained that the nurses seal up the
cells, at the time at which the grub is ready to undergo its meta-
morphosis into a nymph. In accordance with this, and with the
successive deposition of the royal eggs, just described, the times of
sealing up the series of royal cells are separated by intervals
corresponding with those of the deposition of the royal eggs.

Before the commencement of the great laying, the abdomen of
the queen is so enlarged that her movements are seriously impeded,
and she would be altogether unable to fly. According as the
laying proceeds, she becomes smaller and smaller, and when it
has been completed, the royal eggs having been meanwhile depo-
sited at regulated intervals, as above described, her majesty
recovers her natural form and dimensions, and with them her full
bodily activity. This change in the condition of the queen, and

66

FIRST SWARM.

the simultaneous deposition of fifteen hundred to two thousand
drone eggs, and some sixteen or twenty royal eggs, are intimately
connected with the approaching social state of the colony.

133, It was shown by Huber, and since confirmed by other ob-
servers, that it is a constant law of bee politics that the first swarm
of the season shall be led by the queen-regnant, who therefore ab-
dicates her native throne in favour of the colonial sovereignty. This
swarm takes place when the grub proceeding from the first of the
eggs deposited by the queen in the royal cells, as above described,
has undergone its transformation into a nymph.* The necessity
for this law is thus explained by Huber. Without it, the mutual
conflict of the queen-regnant and the princesses, as they would be
successively developed, would render the emigration of swarms
impossible. For as each princess wouldissue perfect from the cell,
she would be attacked, and forced to engage in combat with the
queen, who being, by reason of her age, the stronger and more
powerful, would be always victorious. Thus princess after prin-
cess would be destroyed, and none would be forthcoming to
take the thrones of the successive emigrating colonies. To pre-
vent such a catastrophe, nature has therefore wisely ordered that
the queen-regnant, by leading forth the first swarm of the season,
‘should remove all cause of danger to the succession of princesses.

134. When the emigrant swarm thus first sent forth from the
parent hive has established itself, the first care of the workers is to
construct combs, consisting of workers’ cells. They labour assidu-
ously at these, and in accordance with this the queen, who has
already deposited in the original hive her full brood of drone
eggs, soon begins in her new city to deposit a brood of worker
eggs; workers being then the first and most pressing want of the
colony. This laying begins as soon as the cells are ready for the
deposition of the eggs, and continues for ten or twelve days.
About the latter part of this interval, the bees occupy themselves
in the construction of the larger class of hexagonal cells for the
‘drone eggs. It would seem as though they knew that her majesty
would at this time lay a certain number of such eggs. She
accordingly commences laying these, though in far less number
than in the great laying, but still sufficient to prepare her people
for the succeeding deposition of royal eggs, for which they con
‘struct meanwhile a suitable number of royal cells.

It rarely happens, at least in the country where Huber made
his observations, that the original queen leads forth a swarm from
the new hive. The thing nevertheless occasionally occurs, and
when it does, it takes place in three or four weeks after the

* Huber, i. 279.
r2 67

THE BEE.

original swarm, and is attended with circumstances precisely
similar.

135. Let us now return to the original hive and see what took
place there after the departure and abdication of the reigning
queen.

As examples proving the loyalty and fidelity of the bees to their
queen, Dr. Bevan quotes some remarkable and interesting cases
supplied by Dr. Warder. That apiarist being desirous of ascer-
taining the extent of the loyal feeling among these little people,
hazarded the loss of a swarm in an experiment made with that
object. Having shaken on the grass all the bees from a hive
which they had tenanted only the preceding day, he carefully
sought for and quietly caught the queen. Then placing her with
a few attendants in a box, he took her into his parlour, where the
lid being removed, she and her attendants immediately flew to
the window, when he clipped off one of her wings, returned her
to the box and confined her there for more than an hour.

In less than a quarter of an hour the swarm ascertained the
loss of their queen, and instead of clustering together in a single
mass as usual, like a bunch of grapes, they spread themselves
over a space of several feet, were much agitated, and uttered a
plaintive sound. An hour afterwards they all took flight and
settled upon the hedge where they had first alighted after leaving
the parent stock, but instead of clustering together in a single
bunch, as when the queen accompanied them, and as swarms
usually hang, they extended themselves thirty feet along the
hedge in small bunches of forty or fifty or more.

The queen was now presented to them, when they quickly
gathered round her with a joyful hum, and formed one harmonious
cluster. At night the Doctor hived them again, and on the next
morning repeated the experiment to see whether the bees would
rise. The queen being in a mutilated state, and unable to accom-
pany them, they surrounded her for several hours apparently
willing to die with her rather than abandon her in her distress.
The queen was a second time removed, when they spread them-
selves out again, as though in search of her. Her repeated
restoration to them at different parts of their circle produced one
uniform result, and these poor loving and loyal creatures always
marched and counter-marched every way as the queen was laid.
The Doctor persevered in these experiments, till, after five days
and nights of voluntary fasting, they all died of inanition except
the queen, and she survived her faithful subjects ouly a few
hours.

This remarkable attachment between queen and subjects appears
to be reciprocal, the sovereign being as strongly sensible of it as

68

THE PRINCESS ROYAL.

those over whom she rules. Though offered honey on several
occasions during her temporary separation from the swarm in
these experiments, she constantly refused it, disdaining a life
which was no life to her, deprived of the society of her faithful
people. *

136, After the departure of her majesty there seems to be a sort
of interregnum in the hive during the succession of swarms. No
new sovereign is for the moment elevated to the throne, A strong
guard is established at each of the royal cells, whose duty it is
to confine the princesses with the utmost rigour to their respective
cells, carefully feeding them, and only liberating them at intervals
of some days according to the successive departure of the swarms.
They are liberated in the strict order of their seniority, the
nymph proceeding from the first royal egg, or the princess royal,
being invariably the first set free.

137. When she issues forth, her first impulse, like that of all
queens, is to fall upon the cells containing her younger sisters to
destroy them. This, which in other states of the colony is permitted
by the workers, is now strenuously and effectually opposed by. them.
‘When she approaches the neighbourhood of the royal cells, the
guard in whose charge these are placed, pinch, worry, and hunt
her until they compel her to depart, but never attempt to assail
her with their stings or seriously injure or disable her.

Now, as there are usually a great number of these royal cells in
different parts of the hive, our princess finds it a difficult matter
to obtain any corner where she can remain unmolested. Inces-
santly impelled by her instinct to attack the cells of her sisters,
and as incessantly repulsed from them by the surrounding guard,
her life is rendered miserable. She is in a constant state of
agitation, running from one group of workers to another, until at
length the agitation is shared by a certain portion of the workers
themselves. When this occurs, a crowd of bees are seen rushing
towards the portals of the city. They issue from it accompanied
by their young and virgin queen. It is the second swarm of the
season, and differs from the first only in the age and condition of
its sovereign.

138. After this emigration the workers, who have remained in
possession of the hive liberate another of the princesses, the
second in seniority, whom they treat exactly in the same manner
as the former. The same succession of repulses by the guards of
the remaining royal cells takes place, attended by like consequences,
this second princess leading forth in the same manner the third
swarm, and so on.

139. This spectacle is repeated three or four times in the season

* Bevan, p. 148. 69

THE BEE.

in a well-peopled hive, until the population is so reduced that the
number necessary to form a sufficient guard upon the royal cells
can no longer be spared from the general industry of the hive.
Several princesses then escape from the cells, nearly at the same
time, who fall upon each other in the manner already described,
being now encouraged instead of being opposed by the workers.
In fine, all but one fall in those combats, and this fortunate
survivor, who is in general the eldest of the princesses remaining
in the hive, ascends the throne, and is acknowledged by the whole
community.

According to Huber, swarms issue from the hive only in sun-
shine and a calm atmosphere. After all the precursors of a
swarm have appeared, a passing cloud often arrests it, and the
intention of the bees seems to be abandoned. An hour later the
appearance of the brigkt sun will reproduce all the usual move-
ments, and the swarm will issue.

Many conjectures are made as to the means by which the
workers know so well, as they undoubtedly do, the relative ages
of the several princesses, so as to liberate them according to
seniority. Huber conjectures that a peculiar sound, which they
produce before their liberation from the cells, and which he
thought varied in loudness and pitch, might be the distinguishing
character of relative age.

140, A contingency arises occasionally in the bee community,
which we have not yet noticed, and which is attended with conse-
quences of a very curious and interesting nature. It was dis-
covered by Schirach, and confirmed by numerous and long continued
observations of Huber, that when by any cause a colony loses its
queen, without having any royal cells or royal eggs previously
provided, they are enabled by certain extraordinary processes and
expedients to produce princesses, among whom they may obtain a
successor to their last sovereign.

M. Schirach, Secretary of an Apiarian society, at Little
Bautzen in upper Lusatia, observed that bees, when shut up with
a portion of comb containing worker brood only, would soon con-
struct royal cells, into which they would put worker eggs, the
grubs from which, being nourished with royal jelly, would grow
up as queens. This remarkable result is known among apiculturers
as the Lusatian experiment. This experiment has since been
repeated thousands of times, and always with the same results by
all the most eminent naturalists who have directed their
researches to this part of entomology, and indeed generally by
all bee cultivators. So that of the fact itself, strange and
incredible as it may seem, there is not the faintest shadow of
doubt.

70

FACTITIOUS QUEENS.

The following is the process by which this miracle of nature is
performed. ‘

Having chosen a worker grub, from one to three days old, the
workers pull down two of the cells adjacent to that in which the
chosen grub lies. They pull down the walls which separate
these three chambers, so as to throw them into‘one three times
more spacious than the single cell of the grub. Leaving the
pyramidal bases of these three cells untouched, they construct
.around the grub a large cylindrical tube, which is consequently
included within the remaining walls of the three demolished cells,
the axis of the tube being parallel to that of the cells, and there-
fore horizontal.

It seems, however, that to accomplish the desired change on
the nature of the grub, it is not only necessary to give it an
enlarged cell, but one of which the axis is vertical instead of
being horizontal. On the third day, therefore, from the com-
mencement of their operations, they take measures to cement to
the horizontal tube a vertical chamber having a conical form,
making with the horizontal tube an elbow. To accomplish this
they gnaw away several cells below the end of the tube, sacrificing”
without mercy the grubs which occupy these, as well as those
which occupied the two cells adjacent to the original cell of the
chosen grub.

This rectangular eell, therefore, composed of the original
cylindrical, and the more recently constructed conical cell, may
be considered as having some such form as here roughly sketched,

B

A
-
‘

C

Fig. 53.

(fig. 53,) where ABCD is the horizontal cylindrical part formerly
tilled by three worker hexagonal cells, and BYED, the vertical
conical part, subsequently cemented to it, and built with the wax
obtained from the demolition of the worker cells under azcp.
During two days which the grub inhabits this vertical cell,
BFDE, a nurse may always be observed with its head plunged
71

THE BEE.

into it, and when one quits it another takes its place, thus
relieving each other with all the regularity of military sentinels.
These bees keep constantly lenthening the cell, BFED, as the
grub grows older, and duly supply it with food, which they place
before its mouth and round its body. The animal, which can
only move in a spiral direction, keeps turning to take the jelly
deposited before it, and thus slowly working downwards, arrives
insensibly nearer the orifice of the cell, just at the time that it
is ready to be metamorphosed intoa nymph. At this moment,
the workers, conscious of the impending change, seal up the
mouth EF of the cell, and cease their attentions, leaving nature
to effect the last transformation,

One of these cells is shown at d, in fig. 49.

That the mere change in the quality of the food, combined with
the increased capacity and altered form of the cradle, should be
the means of producing a transformation, so extreme as that from
a worker to a queen, must be a matter of profound astonishment
to every reflecting mind; so much so indeed, that without the
most incontestable evidence, and the power moreover of repro-
ducing the phenomenon at will, it could not be credited. Let
any one imagine how such an assertion as this, that the foal of
an ass by a particular sort of provender, and by being reared in
a stable of particular magnitude and form, could be made to grow
into a through bred horse, would be received. Yet, such a trans-
formation produced by such means would not be one whit more
wonderful than the change of a worker grub into a queen-bee,
by the means just stated. ‘‘ What!” says Kirby, addressing his
correspondent, ‘‘ you will ask, can a larger and warmer house,
a different and more pungent food, and a vertical instead of an
horizontal posture, give a bee a different-shaped tongue and
mandibles; render the surface of its under-legs flat instead of
concave ; deprive them of the fringe of hairs that forms the basket
for carrying the masses of pollen,—of the auricle and pecten which
enable the workers to use these legs or feet as pincers,—of the brush
that lines the insides of the feet? Can they lengthen its abdomen;
alter its colour and clothing; give a curvature to its sting;
deprive it of its wax pockets; and of the vessels for secreting that
substance ; and render its ovaries more conspicuous and capalle
of yielding worker and drone eggs *”’

In the next place, can the apparently trivial circumstances just
mentioned aiter altogether the instincts of these creatures’ Can
they give to one description of animals address and industry, and
to the other astonishing fecundity’ Can we conceive them to
change their very passions, tempers, and manners? That the
very same fetus, if fed with more pungent food, in a higher

72

COMBAT OF FACTITIOUS QUEENS.

temperature, and in a vertical position, shall become a female,
destined to enjoy love, to burn with jealousy and anger, to be
incited to vengeance, and to pass her time without labour—that
this very same fotus, if fed with more simple food, in a lower
temperature, in a more confined and horizontal habitation, shall
come forth a worker, zealous for the good of the community, a
defender of the public rights, enjoying an immunity from the
stimulus of sexual appetite and the pains of parturition—laborious,
industrious, patient, ingenious, skilful,—incessantly engaged in
the nurture of the young, in collecting honey and pollen; in
elaborating wax ; in constructing cells, and the like; paying the
most respectful and assiduous attention to objects which, had
its ovaries been developed, it would have hated and pursued
with the most vindictive fury until it had destroyed them!
Further, that these factitious queens, thus produced from worker
eggs treated as above described, shall differ remarkably frorfi the
natural queens proceeding from royal eggs in being altogether
mute! All this must seem so improbable, and next to impossible,
that it would require the strongest and most irrefragable evidence
to establish it.*

141. It will be remembered that the princesses, when forcibly
confined to their native cells by the workers on guard over them,
after they have undergone the last transformation, utter a peculiar
sound, to the varieties of which Huber ascribes the power of the
workers to determine their relative ages. Kirby in the observa-
tions just quoted, refers to this, when he indicates one of the
distinctions between the factitious and natural queens, the former
never uttering these or any other sounds.

142. Another remarkable distinction between the factitious and
natural queens is indicated by Huber; no guard is kept at the
doors of the cells of factitious princesses, like that which has been
already described in the case of the cells of natural princesses.
The factitious princesses, unlike the natural, are not detained in
their cells after they have undergone the last transformation, but
are allowed to issue forth, if they have not been already destroyed
by the jealous rage of the first which comes to life.

This peculiarity in the policy of the hive may be explained by
the fact, that while the natural princesses are wanted to take the
sovereignties of the successive swarms, the factitious ones are only
produced to meet the extraordinary emergency of the hive being
deprived of its queen, leaving behind her no royal brood, and
‘since only one queen is wanted, the factitious princesses are
allowed, and indeed encouraged, by the workers to engage in

* Kirby, Int., vol. ii. 110.-
73

THE BEE.

martial conflict until one only survives, who assumes the throne
of the hive.

143. The circumstances and ancedotes related by observers
illustrative of the affection, devotion, and respect manifested
towards the queen by her subjects are innumerable. In addition
to those which we have already given, the following will be
read with interest.

All the devotion, it must be observed, commences only after the
royal nuptials. A virgin queen is treated with indifference the
most absolute. But after her marriage has been celebrated, and
she presents herself to her subjects in the double character of
sovereign and mother, they more than respect her. ‘‘ They are,”
says Reaumur,* ‘‘constantly on the watch to make themselves
useful to her, and to render her every kind office. They are for
ever offering her honey. They lick her with their proboscis, and
wherever she goes she has a court to attend her.”

144. The same naturalist relates that even the inanimate body of
the queen is an object of tenderness and affection to the bees. He
took one out of the water quite motionless and seemingly dead.
It was also mutilated, having lost part of one of its legs. Bring-
ing it home, he placed it among some workers that he had found
in the same situation, most of which he had recovered by means
of warmth, some, however, being still in as bad a state as the
poor queen. No sooner did these revived workers perceive the
latter in this wretched condition than they appeared to compas-
sionate her case, and did not cease to lick her with their tongues till
she showed signs of returning animation ; which the bees no sooner
perceived than they set up a general hum as if for joy at the
happy event. All this time they paid no attention to the workers,
who were in a most miserable condition. t

145. In the economy of the bee, there is nothing which presents.
more difficulty to the naturalist than the satisfactory explanation
of the functions of the drones, These, as has been already ex-
plained, are the sole male members of the society; the queen
being the sole fertile female; and the workers, though female,
exercising none of the functions of that sex, and being limited to
the industrial and parental duties of the society. The number of
drones in a single society is from 1500 to 2000, one only of whom
can enjoy the honour of elevation to the distinguished position of
king consort, and that one, as already explained, never surviving
the day of the nuptials. What then, it may well be asked, are
the services rendered to the community by these hundreds of con-
sumers of the products of the industry of the society? They never
themselves take part in the common labours. They neither

* Reaumur, v. 262. + Reaumur, v. 265.
74

MASSACRE OF DRONES.

collect food nor materials, nor do they aid in any way in the con-
struction of the dwellings, nor in the care or nurture of the
young. In the absence of any better explanation of their vast
number it has been said that the purpose is to insure a consort
to the queen. But surely this object might be effected without
encumbering the society with 2000 candidates for the royal
favour.

It has been suggested by some apiarists that the drones may
sit upon the eggs, and by others that their use may be to develope
heat sutlicient to maintain the hive at the necessary temperature ;.
but the experiments and observations of other naturalists have set
aside these hypotheses.

146. Whatever be the purpose which this section of the society is
destined to fulfil, their treatment by the people, and the manner
in which their existence is terminated, are remarkable.

So long as swarms continue to issue from the hive, drones are-
wanted to supply the necessary proportion of that class to accom-
pany them. But after the swarming season closes, which in these:
climates it generally does towards the end of July, at least in dry
summers, the general massacre of the drones takes place. At that
time the bees are seen hunting them in all parts of the hive, and
driving them to the base upon which it stands. Soon after this.
the stand and the ground before the hive are found to be covered
with the bodies of hundreds of the murdered drones. It was
supposed by Bonnet that no direct massacre was executed, but.
that the drones driven from the stores of their food died of
starvation.*

147. Huber, however, among his other numerous discoveries,
contrived to witness, through the eyes of his faithful Burnens,.
the actual massacre.

At the season at which the extermination usually took place,
he placed upon plates of glass six populous hives occupied by
swarms of the preceding year, and Burnens lying on his back
under the hives was enabled to witness all that took place by the
transparency of their bases. On the 4th of July, 1787, he wit-
nessed the massacre, which took place at the same hour in all the
six hives. The base was crowded with bees, who appeared in a
state of great; excitement. As fast as the drones, hunted by
other bees from the superior parts of the combs, arrived at the
base, the bees there assembled fell upon them, seizing them by
their antenne, legs, or wings, and after dragging them about with
apparent rage, put them to death by stabbing them with their
stings between the segments of the abdomen. The moment they
were thus pierced, they spread their wings and expired. However,

* Bonnet, ‘Contemplation de la Nature,” chap. xxvi. part. xi.

THE BEE,

as if the workers did not feel sufficiently certain of their fate,
they continued to pierce their bodies with their stings, and often
drove these formidable weapons in so deep that they could
only extricate them by unscrewing them in the manner already
described (126).

The next day they resumed their observations, when 2 most
curious spectacle presented itself. During three hours they saw
the massacre of drones, which had been resumed with the same
fury, continued. On the preceding day they had exterminated
all the drones of their own hives; but this time their attack was
directed against those of neighbouring hives, which, having fled,
had taken refuge in these, after the massacre of the preceding day
had been concluded,

Not content with this complete extermination of the drones
themselves, the workers resorted to the cells in which drone
nymphs were contained, which had not yet completed their final
transformation. These they pitilessly dragged forth, killed,
sucked the juices contained in their bodies, and then flung the
carcasses out of the hives.

148. It was also ascertained by Huber, that in hives deprived of
their queen, or in which the queen, by reason of retarded fecunda-
tion, only laid drone eggs, no massacre ever took place. In such
hives the drones not only find a sure refuge, but are carefully
nurtured and fed.

This circumstance, combined with the fact that the massacre
never takes place until after the swarming season is over, seems to
indicate the functions of the drones, They are useful only where
candidates for the royal nuptials are likely to be wanted.

149, The most interesting class of the bee community is also that
which is by far the most numerous, the workers, Indeed, to this
class all others must be regarded as subordinate, just as in human
societies all are dependent on the producing classes. Much
respecting their character, habits, and manners, in relation to
the care of their young, and the construction of the city, in a
word in respect to their internal labours, has been already
explained. Something now must be said of their external
industry, directed to the collection of provisions for the com-
munity, young and old, and of the materials necessary for the
prosecution of all their various works, labours which have been
illustrated by Professor Smyth in the following beautiful lines :—

‘« Thou cheerful bee ! come, freely come,
And travel round my woodbine bower ;
Delight me with thy wandering hum,
And rouse me from my musing hour.

CHARACTER OF WORKERS.

Oh ! try no more those tedious fields,
Come taste the sweets my garden ‘yields ;
The treasures of ench blooming mine,
The bud, the blossom—all are thine.

‘* And, careless of this noontide heat,
Pll follow as thy ramble guides ;
To watch thee pause and chafe thy feet,
And sweep them o’er thy downy sides ;
Then in a flower’s bell nestling lie,
And all thy envied ardour ply !
And o’er the stem, though fair it grow,
With touch rejecting, glance and go.

‘‘ Oh, Nature kind ! Oh, labourer wise !
That roam’st along the summer’s ray,
Glean’st every bliss thy life supplies,
And meet’st prepared thy winter day !
Go, envied, go—with crowded gates °
The hive thy rich return awaits ;
Bear home thy store, in triumph gay,
And shame each idler of the day.”

150. The immediate objects to which the exterior industry of
the bee is directed, are nectar, pollen, and propolis.

Nectar is a specific juice, found in certain classes of flowers,
from which the bee elaborates honey and wax.

Pollen is a peculiar powder, or dust, spread over the anthers of
flowers, which constitutes the principle of fecundation of the
flowers themselves, and is the material of which the bee makes
bread, which serves as food both for old and young.

Propolis is a resinous substance, evolved by certain vegetables
which the bee uses as cement, mortar, or glue, in its architecture.
When the bee pierces the vessels of the flowers, which, containing
nectar, are called nectarines, and swallows that precious juice, it
is deposited provisionally in the honey-bag already described
(26) ; sometimes called, on that account, the first stomach. Here
this nectar is converted into honey, the chief part of which is
regurgitated, to be stored up for future general consumption in the
honey-cells of the combs.

In the stomach, properly so called (26), and in the intestines,
the bread only is found.

How the wax is secreted, physiologists have not yet discovered
with any certainty. It is evident, however, that the immediate
seat of its production is within the abdomen, since the parts called
wax-pockets, from which it is externally evolved, are rendered
visible by pressing the abdomen so as to make it extend itself. A
pair of quadrangular whitish pockets, of soft membranaceous
texture, will then be seen on each of the four middle ventral,

a7

THE BEE.

segments. On these the plates of wax are formed, and are found
upon them in different states so as to be more or less perceptible.

151. Observe a bee, says Kirby, that has alighted on a flower.
The hum produced by the motions of her wings ceases,
and her work begins. In an instant she unfolds her tongue,
which was previously rolled up under her head. With what
rapidity does she dart this organ between the petals and the
stamina! At one time she extends it to its full length, then she
contracts it; she moves it about in all directions, so that it may
be applied to the concave and convex surface of the petal, and
sweep them both, and thus by a virtuous theft, she robs it of all
its nectar. All the while this is going on, she keeps herself in a
state of constant vibratory motion.

Flowers, though the chief, are not the only sources from which
the bee derives the material of honey and wax. She will also eat
sugar in every form, treacle, the juice secreted by aphides ; and,
in fine, the juice of the bodies of nymphs and of eggs of bees
themselves, as already explained.

152, When the industrious little creature has filled its honey~
bag with nectar, it proceeds to collect the pollen, of which it
robs the flowers by brushing it off with the feathery hairs with
which its body is covered. As the honey is called the NECTAR, so
this pollen, or the substance bee-bread, into which it is converted,
may be called the amprosra of the hive. Together they con-
stitute the food and the drink of the population.

When the bee has so rolled itself in this farina of the blossoms
of the garden and the field, that its whole body is so powdered
with it, as to give it the peculiar colour of the species of flowers
to which it happens to resort, it suspends its excursions, and sets
about to brush its body with its legs, which, as already explained, are
supplied with brushes for this express purpose. Every particle of
the flower thus brushed off is most carefully collected and kneaded
up into two little masses, which are transferred from the fore to
the hind legs, and there packed up into the baskets provided for
its reception and transportation.

Naturalists generally are of opinion that in each of its excur-
sions a bee confines its foraging operations to u single species
of flower. This explains the fact that the colour of their load
after such excursions is uniform, depending on the particular
species of flower which they have robbed of its sweets. Thus,
according to Reaumur, some bees are observed to return loaded
with red pellets on their thighs, others with yellow, others
whitish, and others with green.

Kirby observes, that it seems probable that the bee confines its
operations in such excursions to flowers of the same species, and

78

MARRIAGE OF FLOWERS.

that the grains of pollen which enter into the same mass should
be homogeneous, and consequently fitted by their physical pro-
perties to cohere with greater facility and firmness.

153. But connected with this, another important purpose of
nature is fulfilled, which must not here pass without special notice.
The principle, so fruitful in important social consequences among
animals, that the offspring owes its parentage jointly to two
individuals of different sexes, or, in other words, must always
have a father and. a mother, equally prevails in the vegetable
kingdom, There also are the gentlemen and ladies, there also
are the loves which unite them, loves which as well as those of
superior orders of beings have supplied a theme for poets.* Now
among the many other interesting offices with which the Author
of nature has invested thé little creatures, which form the subject
of this notice, not the least singular is that of being the priests
who celebrate the nuptials of the flowers. It is the bee literally
which joins the hands and consecrates the union of the fair virgin
lily and the blushing maiden rose with their respective bride-
grooms. The grains of pollen which we have been describing are
these brides and, bridegrooms, and are transported on the bee
from the male to the female flower; the happy individuals thus
united in the bands of wedlock being the particular grains, which
the bee lets fall from its body on the flower of the opposite sex, as
it passes through its blossom.

154, And here we find another circumstance to excite our admi-
ration of the wise laws of that Providence, which cares for the well-
being of a little flower, as much as for that of a great lord of the
creation. If the bee wandered indifferently from flower to flower
without selection, the gentlemen of one species would be mated
with the ladies of another, hybrid breeds would ensue, and the
confusion of species would be the consequence. But the bee, as
knowing this, flies from rose to rose, or from lily to lily, but never
from the lily to the rose, or from the rose to the lily.

155. When a bee, laden with pollen, arrives in the hive, she some-
times stops at the entrance, and leisurely detaching it piecemeal
from her legs, devours it bit by bit. Sometimes she passes into
the hive and walks over the combs, or stands stationary upon
them, but whether moving or standing never ceases flapping her
wings. The noise thus produced, a sort of buzzing, seems to be
a call understood by the populace within hearing, for three or four
of them immediately approach and surround her. They begin
to aid her to disembarrass herself of her load, each taking and
swallowing more or less of her ambrosia until the whole is
disposed of. :

* Darwin’s Loves of the Plants. r
7

THE BEE.

156. When more pollen has been collected than the society wants
for present use, it is stored up in some of the unoccupied cells. The
bee, laden with it, puts her two hind legs into the cell, and with
the intermediate pair pushes off the pellets. When this is done
she, or another bee if she be too much fatigued, enters the cell
head-foremost and remains there for some time, during which she
is occupied in diluting, kneading, and packing the bee-bread ; and
so they proceed one after another, until the cell has been well
packed and filled with the store of provisions. In some combs a
large portion of the cells is filled with this ambrosia, in others,
cells containing it are intermixed with those filled with honey or
with bread. Itis thus everywhere at hand for use.*

The propolis, the third object of bee industry, is collected from
various trees, and especially from certain species of the poplar.
It is soft and red, will allow of being drawn out into a thread, is
aromatic, and imparts a gold-colour to white polished metals. It
is employed in the hive, as already stated, not only in finishing
the combs, but also in stopping up every chink and orifice by
which cold, wet, or any enemy could enter. They coat with it the
chief part of the inner surface of the hive, including that of the
sticks placed there for the support of the comb. It is carried by
the bees in the same manner as is the pollen on the hind legs.

157. The radius around their habitation, within which the bee
industry is confined, is differently estimated, being according to
some a mile, and according to others extending to a mile and a
half. Various experiments prove that it is by their scent that
the bees are guided to the localities where their favourite flowers
abound.

* Kirby, Int., ii. 151.

80

Rh

Fig. 63.—Scoteh hive.

Fig. 65.—Cork hive
(South of France).

Fig. 61.—Radouau's
hive.

THE BEE.

Sess oes

CHAPTER VI.

158. How they fly straight back to the hive—manner of discovering the
nests of wild bees in New England.—159. Average number of daily ex-
cursions.—160. Bee pasturage—transported to follow it—in Egypt and
Greece.—161. Neatness of the bee.—162. Its enemies.—163. Death’s-
head moth.—164. Measures of defence adopted by Huber.—165. Mea-
sures adopted by the bees.—166. Wars between different hives. —167.
Demolition of the defensive works when not needed.—168. Senses of
insects. —169. Senses of the bee.—170, Smell.—171. Experiments
of Huber.—172. Remarkable tenacity of memory.—173. Experi-
ments to ascertain the organ of smell.—174. Repugnancy of the bee
for its own poison.—175. Their method of ventilating the hive.—
176. Their antipathy against certain persons. —177. Against red and
black-haired persons.—178. Difference of opinion as to the functions
of the antenne.—179. Organs of taste.—180. Hearing: curious anec-
dotes.—181. Vision.—182. Peculiar characters of queens ; royal old
maid.—183. Drone-bearing queens. —184, Change of their instincts and
manners.—185. Their treatment by the workers. —186. Nuptials never
celebrated in the hive.-—187. Effect of amputating the royal antenne.

158. One of the many wonders “presented by their economy is the
directness and unerring certainty of their flight. While collecting
their sweets they fly hither and thither, forward or backward, and
right or left, as this or that blossom attracts them ; but when
fully laden with the spoil, though upwards of a mile from their city,
they start for it in a course more exact than if they were guided.

Larpyer’s Museum or Science. @ 81
RTA 104

THE BEE.

by a rudder and compass, governed by the hand of the most con-
summate navigator. By what means this is accomplished has
never been explained, but connected with it is an account given
in the ‘‘ Philosophical Transactions” which we cannot refrain from
quoting here. ‘In New England a species of wild hive-bees
abounded in the forests about the year 1720. The following was
the method practised for discovering their nests and obtaining
their honey. The honey-hunters set u plate containing honey or
sugar, upon the ground on a clear day. The bees soon discovered.
and attacked it. Having captured two or three who had thus
gorged themselves, the hunter liberated one of them and marked
the direction in which it flew. He then changed his position,
walking in a direction at right angles to the course of the bee to
a distance of a few hundred feet, where he liberated another of
his little captives, and noted as before the direction of its flight.
The point where the two directions thus obtained, intersected, was
of course that to which both bees had directed their course, and
there the nest was always found.”

159. The industry of the bee may be estimated by the average
number of its daily excursions from the hive to collect provisions.
According to Reaumur, if the total number of excursions be
divided by the total number of bees in a hive, the average number
daily made by each bee would be from five to six. But as one-
half of the bees are occupied exclusively with the domestic busi-
ness of the society, either in nursing and tending the young,
packing and storing the provisions, or constructing the combs,
the total number of excursions must be divided, not between the
whole, but between only half the total number of bees, which
would give ten excursions to each individual of the collecting
class; and if the average length of each excursion be taken at
three quarters of a mile, this would give the average distance
travelled by each collector as fifteen miles! It is estimated by
Kirby that the quantity of ponderable matter thus transported
during a season in a single hive would be about 100 lbs. ‘‘ What
a wonderful idea does this give of the industry and activity of
those useful little creatures! and what a lesson do they read to
the members of societies, that have both reason and religion to.
guide their exertions for the common good! Adorable is that
Great Being who has gifted them with instincts which render
them as instructive to us, if we will condescend to listen to them,
as they are profitable.” *

160. The plants and flowers which form the pasturage of the
bees are, in many countries, produced at different places at different
seasons of the vear; and where the bees in a particular neigh-

* Kirby, Int., ii, 155.
82

TRANSPORT OF BEES.

bourhood are numerous, the pasturage surrounding their hives
often becomes exhausted. In such cases the agriculturists trans-
port the bees from localities which they have exhausted, to others
in a state of comparative abundance, just as the shepherd drives
his sheep from field to field, according as the pasturage is eaten
down. In Egypt, towards the end of October, when the inunda-
tions of the Nile have ceased, and the husbandmen can sow the
land, saintfoin is one of the first things sown; and as Upper is
warmer than Lower Egypt, the saintfoin gets there first into
Hower. At this time bee-hives are transported in boats from all
parts of Egypt into the upper district, and are there heaped in
pyramids upon the boats prepared to receive them, each being
marked with a number which indicates its owner. In this station
they remain for some days, and when it is considered that they
have pretty well exhausted the surrounding fields of their sweets,
they are removed a few leagues lower down, where they are
retained for a like interval; and so they descend the river, until
towards the middle of February they arrive at its mouth, where
they are distributed among their respective proprietors. *

A similar practice prevails in various parts of the East and
in Greece. The inhabitants of the towns are often the proprietors
of fifty or sixty hives, the product of which forms an article of
their trade. The hives are sent in the season when the herbage
is in flower to the various rural districts, being sealed up by the
owner, the small bee-door only being open, and are given in
charge to the villagers, who at the close of the season are paid for
their care of them. Ranges, consisting of five or six hundred
hives, are often seen thus put out to grass.+

161. Bees are remarkable for neatness and cleanliness, both as to
their habitations and their persons. They remove all dirt and
nuisances from their hive, with the regularity of the neatest
housewives, When their strength is insufficient for this, they
contrive various ingenious expedients to abate the nuisance. If
snails find their way into the hive, as they sometimes do, they
kill them with their stings; and in order to prevent noisome and
unwholesome effluvia from their decomposing remains, they
embalm them with propolis. If the snail is protected from their
stings by its shell, they bury it alive in a mass of propolis.

When pressed by natural wants, they do not defile their habita-
tion by relieving themselves in it, but go abroad for the purpose.

When a young bee issues from the cell, 2 worker immediately
approaches, and, taking out its envelope, carries it out of the
hive ; another removes the exuvie of the larva, and a third any

* Reaumur, v. 698.

+ Willock, in ‘‘Gardeners’ Chronicle, 184], p. 84.
a2 83

THE BEE,

filth or ordure that may remain, or any pieces of wax that may
have fallen in when the young bee broke through its cocoon. But
they never attempt to remove the silk lining of the cell spun by
the larva in its first transformation, because that, instead of being
a nuisance, gives increased solidity and ornament to the cell.

162. Notwithstanding the amiable character and excellent poli-
tical organisation of the bees, these little people have numerous
enemies, with some of whom they are often compelled to wage
offensive wars, and against others to fortify themselves, by expe-
dients and with skill, which will bear comparison with the opera-
tions of the most consummate military engineers. Sebastopol itself
was not more ingeniously defended by its outworks than, in certain
cases, bee-hives are.

From the curious account which Latreille has given us of
Philanthus aviporus, a wasp-like insect, it appears that great havoc
is made by it of the unsuspecting workers, which it seizes while
intent upon their daily labours, and carries off to feed its young.

163. Another insect, which one would not have suspected of
marauding propensities, must here be introduced. Kuhn informs
us, that long ago (in 1799) some monks who kept bees, observing
that they made an unusual noise, lifted up the hive, when an
animal flew out, which, to their great surprise, no doubt, for they
at first took it for a bat, proved to be the death’s-head hawk-moth
(Acherontia atropos), already celebrated as the innocent cause of
alarm; and he remembers that several, some years before, had been
found dead in the bee-houses. M. Huber also, in 1804, discovered
that it had made its way into his hives and those of his vicinity,
and had robbed them of their honey. In Africa, we are told, it
has the same propensity; which the Hottentots observing, in
order to monopolise the honey of the wild bees, have persuaded
the colonists that it inflicts a mortal wound.

This moth has the faculty of emitting a remarkable sound,
which he supposes may produce an effect upon the bees of a hive,
somewhat similar to that caused by the voice of their queen,
which as soon as uttered strikes them motionless, and thus it may
be enabled to commit with impunity such devastation in the midst
of myriads of armed bands.

The larva of two species of moth (Galleria cereana and Meilo-
nella) exhibit equal hardihood with equal impunity. They,
indeed, pass the whole of their initiatory state in the midst of
combs. Yet, in spite of the sting of the bees of a whole republic,
they continue their depredations unmolested, sheltering themselves
in tubes made of grains of wax, and lined with silken tapestry,
spun and woven by themselves, which the bees (however disposed
they may be to revenge the mischief which they do to them, by

84

SNEMIES OF BEES.

devouring what to all other animals would be indigestible—their
wax) are unable to penetrate. These larvw are sometimes so
numerous in a hive, and commit such extensive ravages, as to
force the poor bees to desert it and seek another habitation.” *

164. Huber gives the following most interesting account of
the measures taken by his bees, to fortify themselves against the
incursions of the death’s-head moth.

When he found his hives attacked and their store of honey
pillaged by these depredators, he contracted the opening left for
the exit and entrance of the bees to such an extent, as while it
allowed them free ingress and egress, it was so small that their
plunderers could not pass through it. This was found to be per-
fectly effectual, and all pillage was thenceforward discontinued
in the hives thus protected.

165. But it happened that in some of the hives this precaution
was not adopted, and here the most wonderful proceeding on the
part of the bees took place. Human contrivance was brought into
immediate juxtaposition with apiarian ingenuity.

The bees of the undefended: hives raised a wall across the gate
of their city, consisting of a stiff cement made of wax and propolis
mixed in a certain proportion. This wall, sometimes carried
directly across and sometimes a little behind the door, first com-
pletely closed up the entrance; but they pierced in it some
openings just large enough to allow two bees to pass each other in
their exits and entrances.

The little engineers did not follow one invariable plan in these
defensive works, but modified them according to circumstances.
In some cases a single wall, having small wickets worked through
it at certain points, was constructed. In others several walls were
erected one within the other, placed parallel to each other, with
trenches between them wide enough to allow two bees to pass
each other. In each of these parallel walls several openings or
wickets were pierced, but so placed as not to correspond in posi-
tion, so that in entering a bee would have to follow a zigzag
course in passing from wicket to wicket. In some cases these
walls or curtains were wrought into a series of arcades, but so
that the intervening columns of one corresponded to the arcades of
the other.

The bees never constructed these works of defence without
urgent necessity. Thus, in seasons or in localities where the
death’s-head moth did not prevail, no such expedients were
resorted to. Nor were they used against enemies which were
open to attack by their sting. The bee, therefore, understands

* Kirby, vol. i. p. 180.
85

THE BEE.

not merely the art of offensive war, and can play the part of the
common soldier, but is also a consummate military engineer ;
and itis not against the death’s-head moth alone that it shows
itself capable of erecting such defences.

166. Thinly peopled hives are sometimes attacked by the popu-
lation of other bee cities. In such cases, incapable of immediate
defence by reason of their inferior numbers, they erect similar
fortifications, but in this case they make the wickets in the walls
so small that a single worker only can pass through them; and a
small number stationed on the inside of these openings, are accord-
ingly sufficient to defend the hive against the attack of large
besieging armies.

167. But when the season for swarming arrived, these works of
defence, whether constructed against the invasion of the moth or
hostile bees, became an impracticable obstruction to the exit of
the succession of emigrating colonies, and were therefore demo-
lished, and were not reconstructed without pressing necessity.
Thus the works constructed in 1804 against the invasions of the
moth were taken down in the swarming season of 1805; and as
the plunderers did not re-appear in that year, they were not re-
erected. But in the autumn of 1807, the moths appearing in
great numbers, the bees immediately erected strong barricades,
and thus effectually prevented the disaster with which their
population was menaced. In the next swarming season, in May
1808, these works were again demolished.

It ought to be observed, that whenever the door of the hive
is itself too small to admit the moth, the bees erect no defences
against it.*

168. One of the most interesting and, at the same time, most
difficult question connected with the faculties of insects, is that of
the number and nature of their senses. It has been often and truly
said, that no being, however intelligent, can form even the most
obscure notion of a sense of which he is himself deprived. The
man deprived of sight, to whom the colour scarlet was elaborately
described, said that his notion of it was that of the sound of a
trumpet. Granting then the possibility that insects may be
endowed with a peculiar sense, or mode of perception, of which
we are destitute, we are in no condition to form a conception
of the power or impressions of such a sense, any more than the
blind man was who attempted to acquire a conception of a red
colour.

But without supposing the possible existence of peculiar senses
independent of the five with which we are endowed, it may be
that the very organs which we possess may be given with an inf-

* Huber, ii. 293—298.

86

SENSES OF BEES,

nitely higher degree of sensibility to these minute species. Their
auditory organs may be such as to give them the power of ear-
trumpets, and their eyes may be either microscopic or telescopic,
or both united. Their olfactory organs may have a susceptibility
infinitely more exalted than ours, as indeed innumerable facts
prove those of many species of inferior animals to be. Art and
science have supplied us with numerous tests, by which the
physical properties of substances are distinguished, by characters
which escape all our senses. Why may not the Creator have
given to inferior animals specific organs, capable of perceiving
those distinctions, as surely and promptly as the eye distinguishes
shades of colour, the nose varieties of odour, or the ear the pitch
of a musical note ?

169, Among social insects, the hive-bee stands preeminent for
the manifestation of sensitive faculties. Sight, touch, smell, and
taste, are universally accorded to it. Hearing was regarded as
doubtful, but we have shown that a noise produced at any side of
a hive, will immediately bring there the queen and her court, to
see what is the matter. — ;

But if the sensibility of the ear be doubted, what exaltation
of power do we not find in the eye! How unerring is the per-
ception of her dwelling, while the bee lies at distances and under
circumstances, which might well appear to bafile the most acute
human organ, aided even by human intelligence! The little bee,
issuing from her hive, departs upon her industrial excursion, and
flies straight to the field which she has already discovered to be
most fertile of honey flowers. Her route to it is as straight as
the flight of a bullet from a gun to the object aimed at. When
she has gathered her load, she rises in the air, and, flying
back to her hive with the same unerring certainty, finds it
among many, and entering it, finds the cells which are appro-
priated to her care.

The sense of touch is, perhaps, even more to be admired than
that of sight, for it supplies the place of that sense in the darkness
of the internal labyrinth of the hive. In darkness the architec-
ture of the combs is constructed, the honey is stored in the cells
appropriated to it, the young are nourished, their food being
varied with their respective ages, the queen is recognised,—and
all this appears to be accomplished by some sensitive power
possessed by the antennw, organs whose structure, nevertheless,
seems to be incomparably inferior to that of the human hands.

The industrial activity of the bee is much less excited by
warm weather and bright sunshine, than by the prospect of col-
lecting an abundant supply of provisions for the hive. When
the lindens and the buck-wheat are in flower, they brave the rain

87

THE BEE.

and cold, commencing their excursions before sunrise, and con-
tinuing their work much later than their customary hours. But
when the flowers rich in pollen and nectar prevail in less abund-
ance, and when the scythe has swept away the flowers which
enamelled the fields, even the brightest sunshine and the warmest
days fail to attract the industrious population to go abroad.

170. Of all the senses of the bee, that of smell appears to be the
most acute. Certain odours have an irresistible attraction for
the insect, while others are in the same degree repugnant to it.
Of the former, as might naturally be expected, honey is by far
the most exciting. It was supposed by Huber, not without much
probability, that the bee is attracted to this or that flower, not
by itscolour, form, or other visible properties, but by the odour
of the nectar it contains. To test this experimentally, Huber put
some honey in a box, so as to be invisible from the outside, and
placing it in the neighbourhood of his hives, found that the bees
crowded round it in a few minutes, finding their way to the honey
through a small hole left for the purpose.

171. He next made several small entrance holes in a box con-
taining honey, but covered each hole with a sort of card valve, such
that it would be possible for a bee to raise it and enter the box.
The box thus prepared was placed at two hundred yards from the
hives. In half an hour the bees found it, crowded in great
numbers on every side of it, examining carefully every part, as
if to seek for an entrance. At length, finding the valves, they
set to work at them, and never ceased until they succeeded in
raising them, when they entered and took possession of the spoil.

How exquisitely acute must be their olfactory organs will be
apparent, when it is considered that, in this case, the box and
valves must have confined very nearly the whole eftluvia of the
honey.

17, The following remarkable proof of the tenacity of memory
with which the bee is endowed, is given by Huber. A supply of
honey had been placed in autumn upon an open window. The
bees had the habit of coming to feast upon it. This honey being
removed, the window was closed, and remained closed during the
winter. In the following spring the bees again found their way
to the same window, expecting again to find a supply there,
although none had been placed there. It is evident in this case,
that the insect must have been guided by its memory alone, and
that it was capable of retaining a recollection of places and cir-
cumstances for several months.

173. Huber made several curious and interesting experiments to
determine the seat of the sense of smell. If, as was natural to
expect, it were situate in some of the appendages of the mouth,

88

SMELL—-MEMORY.

it would be deadened by stopping these, as we defend ourselves
from a noisome odour by stopping the nose. Catching several
bees he, therefore, held them while he stopped their mouths and
probosces with flour-paste, and liberating them when the paste .
was hardened, he found that they no longer showed any sign of
the possession of a sense of smell. They were neither attracted
by honey, nor repelled by objects whose odours were known to be
most repugnant to them.

174, Among the substances to whose odour the bee shows the
strongest repugnance, is its own poison. This was demonstrated
by Huber by very remarkable experiments, Having provoked
the insect to put forth its sting, and eject its poison, he presented
this offensive juice on the end of a sharp instrument to some
worker bees, which were quictly resting at the door of their
hive. A general agitation was immediately manifested among
them. Some launched themselves on the poisoned instrument,
and others fell upon the individual who held it. That it was
not the instrument itself which in this case provoked their rage,
was proved by the fact, that a similar one, bearing no poison,
being presented to them, did not produce any effect.

175. An inconvenient elevation of temperature and want of ven~
tilation will sometimes impel the bees to leave their combs, but if
they are excited to remain upon them by the want of feeding, they
know how to reconcile the conflicting impulses. In that case they
produce coolness and change of air without deserting the provisions
which surround them, or the care of their young. A certain num-
ber of the insects begin to flap their wings, which are thus used
as fans, producing currents of air. But as they are not able to
sustain this labour for an indefinite time, they take it by turns,
regularly relieving each other.

To try what the conduct of the bees would be, if by artificial
means the ventilation of the hive were so impeded that the usual
small number of fanners would not suffice, Huber submitted hives
to such unusual conditions, and found that in such cases the
number of bees flapping their wings was augmented in the same
proportion as the ventilation was impeded, until at length the whole
population of the hive were thus occupied.

176, The antipathy which bees manifest against particular indi-
viduals, is generally ascribed to some odour proceeding from their
persons to which the insect bears a repugnance. M. de Hafor, of
the Grand Duchy of Baden, had been for many years an assiduous
cultivator and amateur of bees, and was on such friendly terms
with them that he could at all times approach them with impunity.
He would, for example, put his fingers among them, select the
queen, and taking hold of her, place her on the palm of his

&9

THE BEE.

hand. It happened that this gentleman was attacked with a
violent and malignant fever, which long confined him to his bed
and his house. Upon his recovery he, naturally enough, revisited
his old friends the bees, and began to caress them and renew ule
former familiarity.

He found, however, to his surprise and disappointment, chat he
was no longer in possession of their favour, and instead of being
received as formerly, his advances were resented as an unwel-
-come and irksome intrusion ; nor was he ever afterwards able to
perform any of the usual operations upon them, or to approach
‘them without exciting their rage.

177. According to Dr. Bevan and M. Feburier, both close and
accurate observers of the habits of the insect, red and black-haired
persons are peculiarly obnoxious to it. JF eburier mentions a
mastiff to which his bees had a particular aversion, pursuing him
into the house with such pertinacity, that doors and windows
were obliged to be closed for his protection.

Dr. Bevan mentions that he had two friends, brothers, one of
whom was so inoffensive to the bees, that he could stand with
impunity over the hive and watch all their doings, while the
other could scarcely enter the garden with impunity.

178. The antenne are generally regarded as the proper organs
of the tactile sense, and hence are popularly, though not properly,
-called feelers,—the feelers being in fact the palpi already men-
tioned. Naturalists are not agreed as to the functions of the
antenne, though all concur as to their importance. Some con-
‘sider them as organs of smell, others as organs of hearing; while
-others claim for them the place of organs of a sixth sense, of
which man and the higher animals are destitute. This sense is
considered by Kirby as an intermediate faculty between sight and
-hearing, rendering the insect sensible of the slightest movement
of the circumambient air. Dr. Evans, as quoted by Dr. Bevan,
in reference to the faculty conferred on the bee by the antenne,
-$ays,—

‘<The same keen horns, within the dark abode,
Trace for the sightless throng a ready road ;

While all the mazy threads of touch convey
That inward to the mind, a semblant day.”

The antenne, and the two pair of palpi, would seem to have
correlative and complementary functions: they are both in con-
‘stant motion. The palpi are in reality the feelers, in the proper
sense of the term; as is apparent by observing the manner in
which the insect applies them to the food before eating it.

_179. Cuvier considers the organs of taste in the bee to consti-

tute one of its most important characters. The sensibility of these
90

TASTE—-SIGHT.

organs is manifested by the delicate choice of food which the
insect makes, showing a preference for those flowers, wherever
they can be found, which yield the finest honey. Hence the cele-
brity of the honey of Narbonne, Hymettus, Hybla, and Pontus.

180. Numerous indications show that the bee possesses the
sense of hearing. The manner in which they are attracted to any
quarter of the hive where an unusual noise is produced, has been
already mentioned. Dr. Bevan mentions some curious examples
of their power of hearing, and even of the sense they seem to
attach to particular vocal sounds. Thus he mentions an old
dame of his acquaintance, who was a very fearless operator in the
treatment of these insects, and who used to suppress any move-
ment of anger on the part of the bees merely by saying to them,
‘*Ah! would you dare?” A servant of Mr. Knight, the well-
known apiarian, used to quell their anger by exclaiming, ‘‘ Get
along, you little fools !”

Some difference of opinion has nevertheless prevailed as to the
existence of this sense in insects. The opinion of Linnwus and
‘Bonnet was against it. Many evidences, however, may be adduced
in favour of its existence. Thus, one grasshopper will chirp in

. response to another, and the female will be attracted by the voice
of the male. Brunelli shut up a male in a box, and allowed the
female her liberty ; as soon as the male chirped she flew to him
immediately. A bee on the window within a bee-house will
make a responsive buzz to its fellows on the outside.*

181. The indications of a keen sense of vision, in the certainty
and precision with which the bee flies to its pasturage and back
to its hive, have been already mentioned. Naturalists, however,
are not agreed as to the particular power of the eyes of these
insects. Some, for example, contend that their sight is extremely
short, and that

Its feeble ray scarce spreads
An inch around ;

while others contend that its vision of near objects is obscure and
imperfect, but for distant ones quite distinct. Thus Butler and
Wildman say that they have observed the bees go up and down
seeking the door of the hive, as if they were in the dark; but
Bevan observed that they easily discovered it by rising on the
wing, and thus throwing themselves at a greater distance
from it.

182. Among the mysteries of the social economy of the bee, there
is perhaps nothing more curious than the circumstances which,
in certain cases, appear to affect the personal character of the

* Bevan, p. 362.
91~

THE BEE.

sovereign. We have already explained that there are certain
periods in the life of the queen, during which she produces eggs
of certain sorts,—at one period those only of workers, at another
those only of drones. But if the epoch of her nuptials be post-
poned to a certain advanced period of life, at which, if we may
be allowed the expression, she begins to approach the condition
of an old maid, a singular change is found to have taken place in
her constitution, in consequence of which she is no longer capable
of having any but male offspring, in other words, she is incapable
of laying any but drone eggs.

183. Now since such a queen is obviously incapable of discharg-
ing those functions, which are indispensable to the continuance of
the population over which she presides, and of whose young she
ought, in the ordinary course of nature, to be common mother, it
might be inferred that the instincts of the insects would lead
them to disembarrass themselves of a sovereign, incapable of
discharging the most important functions of her office, and to
substitute for her, as we know they always have the power to
do, one who should enjoy the plenitude of these functions.

184. Among the innumerable experiments of Huber, those are not
least interesting which were directed to this point, that is to say,
to submit the faculties of the queen to tests supplied by artificial
means, contrived for placing her in social conditions, in which it
could scarcely ever -happen that she should find herself in the
common course of bee-nuture.

The first question which suggested itself to the great naturalist,
was to ascertain whether queens, who thus married so late in life
as to have only drone offspring, would exhibit the same spirit
of jealous hostility towards the tenants of royal cells, and the
future aspirants to thrones, as is invariably manifested by younger
royal brides, To determine this it was necessary to place such a
queen in a queenless hive, in which, however, there was at least
one royal cell tenanted by a princess. Huber, therefore, placed the
queen, who had not married until she had bordered upon old
maidenhood, in a hive which had no queen, but in which there
was one royal cell occupied by a princess. The old bride, whose
nuptials had not been celebrated until she had attained the
twenty-eighth day of her age, laid nothing of course except drone
eggs. On being placed in the hive she exhibited none of the
usual signs of hostility against the royal cell. On the contrary,
she passed and repassed it many times a day without seeming to
take the least notice of it, or to distinguish it in any way from the
numerous cells which surrounded it on every side. In such of
these latter cells as were unoccupied she deposited eggs, and not-
withstanding the jealous guard which the workers kept around

92

CHARACTER OF QUEENS.

the royal cell occupied by the princess, the queen did not appear
either to show a disposition to attack the imprisoned princess, or to
fear any attack on the part of the latter.

185. Meanwhile the workers exhibited towards the queen the
same respect and homage, lavished upon her the same affectionate
cares, offered her honey, and formed round her in the same respect-
ful circle, as they are wont to do round a sovereign possessing all
the functions necessary to perpetuate the race.

It appears, therefore, that the postponement of the royal nuptials
beyond a certain age, while it deprives the queen of the faculty of
having any but male offspring, also deprives her of that instinctive
feeling of jealous hostility towards rival queens, which forms a
trait so remarkable in the characters of queens, whose nuptials
take place at an earlier and more natural age.

To those who regard these little creatures as mere pieces of
mechanism, obeying unreflecting impulses, having purposes always
directed to the fulfilment of some important end in their economy,
it will doubtless be surprising that members of the community so
useless as those princesses, who postpone their nuptials until they
are incapable of bearing worthier offspring, should not be destroyed
as the drones are, after they cease to be useful. So contrary to
this, however, is the fact, that no royal bride, however young, is
the object of solicitude more tender, affection more sincere, and
homage more profound, than those drone-bearing mothers. ‘I
have seen,” says Huber, ‘‘ the workers lavish the most tender care
upon such a queen, and, after her gecease, surround her inanimate
body with the same respect and homage as they had paid to herself
while living, and, in the presence of these beloved remains, refuse
all attention to young and fertile queens who were offered to
them.” * It must be admitted that this looks much more like the
tenderness of moral affection than the mechanical impression of
blind instinct.

186. We have already stated that the royal nuptials are always
celebrated in the air, and under the bright beams of the sun,
where the bride rises with her numerous suitors, and makes her
choice. This bridal excursion into the fields of ether is so inti-
mately interwoven with the customs of these little people, that if,
by cutting off her wings before her nuptials, her majesty is de-
prived of the power of flight, she is consigned irretrievably to a

. life of single blessedness, since she can never submit to nuptials
celebrated in the recesses of the hive, instead of the gay and
bright sunshine of the free air.

* It will be observed that, according to the general habit of the blind,
Huber uses the language of vision, and describes what he saw with the
eyes of Bernens as if he had seen them with his own.

93

THE BEE.

Lest it might be imagined, as indeed Swammerdam supposed,
that the marriage is really consummated in this case in the hive,
and that her majesty is only rendered sterile by the mutilation
she has undergone, Huber cut off the wings of a queen imme-
diately after the royal nuptials, but before her majesty had yet any
offspring. In this case, however, her fertility was as great as usual,
and she produced the customary number and variety of eggs.

187. One of the questions in insect physiology, which has been
attended with a certain degree of doubt, is that which regards
the functions of the antenna. Huber, therefore, desiring to
ascertain how the queen would be affected by the privation of
these organs, cut off first one and then both, observing the conduct
of her majesty after such mutilation.

The excision of one only of the antenne produced no dis-
coverable effect upon her faculties or conduct, but the amputation
of both was followed by some very remarkable consequences.

The antenne of a queen of limited fertility, who was incapable
of having other than drone offspring, were cut off. From the
moment she lost these organs she appeared to be affected by a
sort of delirious intoxication. She ran over the combs with extra-
ordinary vivacity. She did not give her suite, who formed the
usual circle around her, time to make way for her, but rushed
madly through them, violently breaking their ranks. She did
not deposit her eggs in cells, but dropped them at hazard. The
hive not being very full, there were parts of it unoccupied by
combs. To these parts she rughed, and remained there a con-
siderable time quiescent, appearing to avoid the presence of her
subjects. Some of them, nevertheless, followed her to these
deserted places, and eagerly testified their solicitude for her,
caressing her, and offering her honey. This she generally
declined ; and when now and then she seemed disposed reluctantly
to accept it, she appeared to lose the power of presenting her
proboscis to receive it, directing that organ at one time to the
head and at another to the legs of the workers, so that it was
only by chance it encountered their mouths. She would then
run back to the combs, and from the combs to the glazed sides of
the hive, in wild delirium, never ceasing to drop her eggs here
and there as she went along.

At other moments she seemed to be tormented with a desire to
quit the hive, and rushed to the door for that purpose, but the -
orifice being too small to allow her body to pass through it, she
was forced to desist, and returned tothe interior, Notwithstand-
ing this state of delirium, the bees never ceased to lavish upon
her those cares which they are accustomed to bestow on their
queen ; but she received them with indifference.

94

EXPERIMENTS ON QUEENS.

Whether all this singularity and eccentricity of conduct was to-
be ascribed to the excision of the antenne, or to that mutilation
combined with the partial sterility which limited her offspring to-
drones, was not clear. To decide this point, Huber amputated
the antenna of a perfect queen, married at an early age, and who-
was bearing a numerous offspring, consisting of workers, drones,
and princesses. This queen he placed.in the same hive with the

former, with a view to determine at once two questions, the one

relating to the general conduct of the amputated queen, and the-
other, that which regarded the mutual bearing of two mutilated
personages.

The general conduct was the same as that of the former queen.
There was the same wild delirium; the same rushing here and
there as if under the influence of intoxication ; the same efforts to-
escape from the hive; and, in a word, the same peculiarity of con-
duct and manners. A like difference was apparent in their con-
duct towards eachother. Instead of entering into deadly combat,
as queens in their natural state would have done in like circum-
stances, they met and passed each other again and again without
the slightest indication of mutual hostility. This is perhaps the
strongest proof which can be obtained, that the privation of the
antenne utterly subverted their natural instincts,

Another curious social anomaly was manifested on this occasion..
It will be recollected that where a strange queen is introduced
into a hive over which a regular sovereign already presides, the
population surround her, confine her as a prisoner within a ring
of sentinels, and refuse to permit her to enter their city. In the
present case, no such méasures were adopted. On the contrary,
the second mutilated queen was received with the same signs of
welcome, and immediately became the same object of attention
and homage as the first.

But the most wonderful fact of all those developed in this
series of experiments, was that when a third queen in the perfect
state, without mutilation, was introdticed, the bees who. had .
already treated the other two so well, immediately proceeded to-
maltreat this third and perfect queen. They seized her, dragged
her about, bit her, and so closely surrounded her as to leave her
room neither to move nor to breathe.

Having observed the apparent desire of these mutilated queens.
to issue from the hive, which they were only prevented from
doing by the limited magnitude of the door, and desiring to see
whether the bees or any considerable number of them would
depart with her, as they would do with a perfect queen, Huber,
after taking away the two queens who were sterile, or partially
so, and leaying her who was fruitful in all respects, but deprived

95

THE BEE.

of her antenne, he enlarged the door so as to allow her free
passage through it. So soon as this was done, she went out, and
took flight, but not a single bee accompanied her. She was,
moreover, so heavy, being full of eggs, that she was not able long
to sustain herself on the wing, and fell to the ground.

Various conjectures are made by Huber to explain this singular
departure from the prevailing habits of the insect, but none of
them appear so satisfactory as to require to be reproduced.

mm
oO

Fig. 85.—Oblique piece to elevate
a village hive.

Fig. 86.—The bee-dress.

THE BEE.

=

CHAPTER VII,

188. Apiculture.—189. Suitable localities and pasturage.—190. The
Apiary.—191. Out-door Apiary.—192. Bee-house.—193. Cabinet
bee-houses.—194, Form and material of hives.—195. Village hive.—
196. English hive.—197. Various forms of hives.—198. Various
forms of bee-boxes.—199. Bee-dress and other accessories of apicul-
ture.—200. Purchase of hives.—201. Honey harvest.—202. Honey
and wax important articles of commerce.--208. Various sorts of wild
honey. —204. Periodical migration of bees.—205. Poisoned honey.
—206. Maladies of bees.—207. Curious case of abortive brood.—
208. Superstition of bee cultivators. —209. Enemies of bees.—210.
Attacks of bees when provoked.—211. Anecdote of Mungo Park.—
212. Anecdote of Thorley.—213. Bee wars.—214. Curious case of a
battle.

188. ApIcuULTURE is the name given to the art by which the
products of the industry of the bee are augmented in quantity,
improved in quality, and rendered subservient to the uses of man.

189. The most favourable localities for the practice of apicul-
ture are of course those of which the climate is suitable to the
habits and character of the insect, and which most abound in those
vegetable productions on which it loves to feed. Among these
the principal are saintfoin, Dutch clover (trifolium repens), buck-
wheat, rape, honeysuckle, clover (¢rifolium pratense), and yellow
trefoil (medicago lupulina). According to Dr. Bevan, the earliest

Larpner’s Museum oF Science. H 97

THE BEE.

resources of the bee are, however, the willow, hazel, osier, poplar,
sycamore, and plane; to which may be added, the snow-drop,
crocus, white alyssum, laurustinus, orange and lemon trees,
gooseberry and currant and raspberry bushes, sweet marjoram,
winter-savory, thyme, and mint. In a word, fruit-trees and green-
house plants and shrubs in general, such especially as abound in
ornamental grounds, all constitute a part of bee-pasturage.

‘“ First the gray willows’ glossy pearls they steal,
Or rob the hazel of its golden meal ;
While the gay crocus and the violet blue
Yield to the flexile trunk ambrosial dew.
Evans, quoted by Bevay.

An undulating country is highly favourable to the bee.

190. The apiary sbould be near the dwelling-house, in the garden,
and ina position sheltered from unfavourable winds. The farm
and poultry-yard should be avoided, as well as too great proximity
to railways, forges, factories, bakehouses, workshops, and the like.
The bee loves tranquil spots, planted with ornamental shrubs
and fruit-trees, and sown with sweet flowers, such as mignonette,
thyme, mint, rosemary, &c. The aspect of the apiary may be
east, west, or south, according as the one or other affords best
shelter, but never north.

191. The hives should be placed on separate stands, a few feet
apart, should be clear of any wall or fence, and elevated eighteen
inches or two feet above the ground.

Hives are sometimes assembled together in the open air,
forming an out-door apiary, such as is shown in fig. 54, p.1, in
which case they are generally made of straw, and protected in cold
weather by straw roofs, but sometimes also formed of wooden
boxes, as shown in the figure.

This arrangement, having the advantage of simplicity and
cheapness, is most commonly adopted, especially by those to whom
economy is important, and in warm climates where shelter is less
necessary.

192. Under other circumstances bee-houses are much more
strongly recommended, as well for comfort and convenience as for
security. The bee-house, one form of which is shown in fig. 55,
p. 33, consists of two or more rows of shelves, established one
above the other, on which the hives are placed at distances of
from twelve to eighteen inches apart, so that the bee-doors shall
be from two to three feet asunder. The house should be thatched
not only on the roof but on the sides and ends. A passage should
be provided for approaching the hives behind, and windows in the
side for ventilation.

193. A form called the Cabinet bee-house is shown in fig. 56,

98

HIVES.

p. 65, where B B are doors, one of which is glazed, and 4 a pipe
of tin or caoutchouc, by which the bees have ingress and egress.

194. Hives have been constructed of different materials, as straw,
-osiers, rushes, sedges, wood, and earthenware; and of still more
various forms, some being bell-shaped or conical, some cylindrical,
‘some square in their section, some with rectangular and some with
oblique tops, being internally divided by comb-frames fixed or
movable, by shelves, and other expedients.

Their forms of structure depend in some degree upon the object
of the proprietors. When apiculture is prosecuted on a large
scale for the produce of honey and wax, as articles of trade, the
foreign cultivators prefer hives of the most simple forms and
most easy construction, and those from which the products can be
obtained with most facility. The material preferred is, generally,
straw or rushes, The process of making such a hive is indicated
in fig. 57.

Fig. 61.—Movable comb- Fig. 59.—Top of the
Fig. 57.—Process of making frame of the village cylindrical body of
a straw hive. hive. the village hive.

195. The bell-shaped straw hive, called the village hive, repre-
sented on the right of fig. 58, p. 49, is cylindrical in the body,
and surmounted by a bell-shaped cap. The top of the cylindrical
body is covered by a frame of bars, shown separately in fig. 59,
and the cap itself is shown in fig. 60.

Fig. 60.—Cap of the
village hive.

Fig. 62.—Dewhurst’s hive,

One of the movable comb-frames is shown in fig. 61, where a
is the vertical section of the stage, shown by plan in fig. 59; B
the uprights, and ¢ a shelf shown in vertical section.

H2 99

THE BEE.

196. The English hive of Dewhurst, having a box at the top, is
shown in fig. 62; where 4 is the body of the hive, 3 the opening
at the top, and c the box provided with shutters.

197. In fig. 63, p. 81, is shown a form of straw hive used in
Scotland, and in tig. 64 the Radouan hive, similar in form to
the village hive, but provided with movable pieces, by placing
which successively below it, its elevation can be gradually
augmented without disturbing the superior part, so as to give
increased space to the bees and prevent the issue of swarms.

A form of hive much used in the South of France, and known
to French apiarists as the Vulgar Hive (Ruche Vulgaire), is shown
on the left of fig. 58, p. 49, in the process of transferring the bees
from one hive to another.

A form of cork hive used in the South of France is shown in

Fig. 66.—Cylindrical hive Fig. 67.—Della Rocca hive (Greece
(Switzerland and Italy). and Turkey).

fig. 65; and a cylindrical hive with its axis horizontal, much

Fig. 68.—Murie’s bee-box,
with cylindrical cap (French).

Fig. 69.—De Fraritre’s garden hive.

used in Switzerland and Italy, is shown in fig. 66.
100

BEE-HOUSES,

In Greece and Turkey a hive of earthenware, known as that of
della Rocca, is much used, fig. 67. . ;

Straw hives have the advantage over wooden boxes in being
better non-conductors of heat, and therefore preventing immo-
derate cold in winter and immoderate heat in summer in the

i

Fig. 70.—Patteau’s bee-box, with Fig. 71.—Gélieu’s bee-box, with vertical
horizontal] divisions. division,

interior. They are on this account preferred where the apiary is

uncovered.
198. When apiculture is practised partly for the purpose of

Fig. 72.—Feburier’s bee-box, with vertical Fig. 73.—Huber’s experimental
division and sloping roof, leaf-hive.

observing the habits of the insect, boxes with divisions and
7 101

THE BEE.

movable comb-frames, with glazed openings and other like con-
trivances, are used. These bee-bores, as they are called, are

Fig. 75.—Vertical frame of box
shown in fig. 74.

Fig. 74.—Debeauvoy’s bee-box, with
sloping roof and shelves.

«

infinitely various in form, and although our limits will not allow
us to enter into the details of the advantages derived from them

Fig. 78.—Shutter of
box shown in fig. 77.

Fig. 77,—Debeauvoy’s box, with
vertical frames.

by their inventors and contrivers, it will nevertheless be useful to
show the forms of those most generally used.

The common bee-box used in the South of France is shown in
fig. 76, p. 17, the cover c being hinged, so as to be capable of
being raised at pleasure. The process of transferring the bees

102

BEE-HOUSES.

Fig. 7S.*—Lefebvre’s box, with mov- Fig. 79.—Hamet’s bee-box,

able frames. A, a frame drawn out. with oblique horizontal
divisions.

Fig. 80.—One of the divisions by
which fig. 79 is elevated, with
a movable frame, a, drawn
out.

Fig. 81.—Hamet’s bee-box, with
divisions and movable frames.

from one hive to another by smoking them, is indicated, and also
the method of hiving a swarm.

Fig. 82.—Uprights
of fig. 81. Fig. §3.—Frame ot Fig. 84.—Side of fig. 81, with

fig. 81. its movable frame.

199. In the practical details of apiculture there are many
108

THE BEE.

accessories, some of which are of occasional, and others of
constant use.

The bee-dress, fig. 86, is a sort of armour, by which the operator
is protected from all hostile attacks of the insect. It is usually
made of Scotch gauze, or catgut, and so formed as to inclose the
head, neck, and shoulders, as shown in fig. 76, p. 17, where a.
person invested with such a dress is represented in the act of
hiving a swarm. It should have long sleeves to tie round the
wrists over a pair of thick gloves, and the body should descend
low enough to be tied round the waist. Thick
woollen stockings and a woollen apron are recom-
mended, the material being one from which the
bee can readily withdraw its sting.

Knives of different forms (figs. 87, 88) should
be provided, for the partial removal of the honey-
combs, when the smothering process is not re-
sorted to.

A bellows connected with a fumigator (fig. 89)
for projecting tobacco-smoke into those parts of
the combs from which it is desired to expel the
bees, should be provided.

A hive with a handle for mixing swarms is
often useful (fig. 90).

A basket, with an open bottom, placed over
a tub for the purpose of draining the honey-combs, i is also a
convenient accessory (fig. 91).

200. A hive should, in general, be purchased in autumn, and
its value will be pretty well ascertained by its weight. That of
a good hive which will be sure to go through the winter, and
to be productive in the ensuing season, should be from 25
to 30 lbs., and should contain about a peck of bees. If the
weight be much greater than 30 lbs., a part of the honey
may be advantageously taken out. Hives are to be preferred
which are only a year old, and which have sent out no more
than a single swarm. Such will be distinguished by the
superior whiteness and purity of the combs. ‘he transport
should be made in cool weather, and should be conducted without
shocks or jolts.

201. Honey should never be taken from any but the nearest and
most populous hives. If they are provided with movable comb-
frames, it is usual to make a partial harvest in May, the principal
stores of the insect being collected between the middle of May and
the end of June, the commencement and termination, however,
varying three or four weeks, according to the climate Poa to
the locality.

104

Fig. 87. Fig. 88-

COLLECTION OF HONEY.

Dr. Bevan recommends, as a general rule, that no honey should
be taken from a colony the first year of its being planted.

To make a partial collection of honey, the hive is opened at the
top or at the side, and the bees expelled from the combs by puffing
tobacco-smoke upon them. The combs are then cut away with
knives of suitable forms (ffgs. 87, 88). This. operation requires
to be performed with skill and care, so as to avoid as much as pos-
sible irritating the bees. To withdraw the queen from the part of
the combs which are to be removed, the operator taps with his
fingers on the opposite part of the hive, which will cause her
majesty to run there, to ascertain the cause of the noise. If any
bees are seen upon the combs removed, they may be brushed off
-with a feather, when they will generally return to the hive. The
combs taken away are replaced either by empty ones, or by full
combs taken from the lower part of the hive. ;

When hives are constructed on the principle of those shown in
fig. 64, &e., consisting of several parts separable, laid one upon
the other, the honey may be collected by causing the bees to
desert the division intended to be removed by tapping on remote
parts of the hive, and by projecting tobacco-smoke on them.

These operations may be performed in the day between ten and
three o’clock. If the country .be one rich in bee pasturage, a
superior division of the hive may be taken away and replaced by
an empty one, if the operation take place early in the season; and
this latter may sometimes be again harvested before the close of

the season, so as to obtain honey of the purest and finest quality,
105

THE BEE.

But where the pasturage is not so rich, or where the operation is
performed later in the season, it will be necessary either not to
replace the division harvested, or to put the empty division at the
bottom of the hive.

To collect the honey in the hives of the form represented in
fig. 58, p. 49, called the vulgar hive, it is necessary either to expel
the bees or to smother them.

To expel and transfer them to another hive, that which is to be
harvested is inverted, as shown in fig. 58, p. 49, and over it is
placed the hive to which the bees are to be transferred. The bees
may be driven from one to the other, either by being smoked, as
shown in fig. 76, p.17, or by tapping upon the superior hive,
fig. 58, p. 49.

If some bees remain in the hive to be harvested, they will
voluntarily pass into the new hive by the arrangement repre-
sented in fig. 76, p. 17.

When the hive is harvested, either wholly or partially, by
affecting the bees with temporary asphyxia, the process is as
follows: after having beaten the black powder from a puff-ball of
Lycoperdon, it is placed with some red charcoal in the fumigator,
fig. 89, the nozzle of which is inserted at the door of the hive.
The bellows being worked for five or six minutes, the bees will
fall insensible from the hive, when the combs may be removed,
wholly or partially, as the case may be. In twenty or thirty
minutes the bees will revive, and re-enter the hive, or may be
received in a new one if desired.

If it be not desired to preserve the bees, the hive may be
placed over a pit into which they will fall, and where they may
be buried.

To obtain honey of the first quality, the purest combs, con-
taining neither bee-bread nor brood, being selected, are drained
through a hair-sieve or osier-basket. Their product, called
virgin honey, is limpid. It hardens and keeps if potted and put
in a cool and dry place. Honey of inferior quality is obtained
by pressing the residue of the combs, and exposing them to heat.

‘Whenever honey is collected, wax may also be obtained, but
the latter substance may be separately collected at the close of
the winter, by paring away the lower ranges of comb, taking
away by the knife those which are old, black, and mouldy, and
those which have been attacked by the moth. The wax is dis-
solved with boiling water, after which it is purified and collected

in moulds of glazed pottery.

_ 202, Honey and wax, the products of bee industry, form
important articles of commerce in various parts of the world.

Although the production of wax is not confined to the bee,

106

HONEY AND WAX.

nearly all of that articlo employed in Europe is of bee manu-
facture.

Although honey has lost much of its importance as an article of
food, since the discovery and improvement of the fabrication of
sugar, itis still regarded as a luxury, and of considerable value-
in this country, as the material out of which a wholesome vinous.
beverage is produced. In many inland parts of the continent
where sugar is costly, few articles of rural economy could be less
spared. In the Ukraine some of the peasants possess from 400 to-
500 hives, and are said to make more profit of their bees than
even of their corn. In Spain the nurture of bees is carried to a
still greater extent ; according to Mills, a single parish priest was.
known to possess the almost incredible number of 5000 hives.

The common hive-bee is the same, according to Latreille, in.
every part of Europe, except in some districts of Italy, where a
species called the Apis ligustica of Spinola is kept. This species.
is also said to be cultivated in the Morea and the Ionian Isles.
Honey, however, is also obtained from many other species of bees,.
as well wild as domesticated.

203. The rock honey of some parts of America, which is very
thin and as clear as water, is the produce of wild bees, which sus--
pend their clusters of thirty or forty waxen cells, resembling a
bunch of grapes, from a rock. In South America large quantities
of honey are collected from nests built in trees by the Trigona
Amalthea and other species of this genus, under which, according
to Kirby, should be included the Bamburos, to gather the honey
of which the whole population in Ceylon make excursions into-
the woods.

According to Agara, one of the chief articles of food of the
Paraguay Indians is wild honey.

Captain Green observes, that in the Island of Bourbon, where
he was stationed for some time, there is a bee which produces.
honey much esteemed there, of a green colour, having the con--
sistency of oil, and which, besides the usual sweetness of honey,
has a remarkable fragrance. This green honey is exported to
India in considerable quantities, where it bears a high price.

A species of bee called the Apis fasciata was probably culti-
vated ages before the present hive-bee was attended to. This.
species is still so extensively cultivated in Egypt that Niebuhr
met on the hill between Cairo and Damietta a convoy of
4000 hives, which the apiarists of that country were transporting
from a region where the season had passed, to one where the
spring was later.

204, This periodical migration of bees is by no means of modern

date. According to Columella, the Greeks used to send their
107

THE BEE.

bee-hives at certain seasons of the year from Achaia into Attica,
and a similar custom still prevails in Italy, and even in this
country in the neighbourhood of heaths.

Among the domesticated species of bees may be also mentioned
the Apis unicolor in Madagascar, the Apis Indica at Pondicherry
and in Bengal, and the Apis Adansonii at Senegal.

Fabricius affirmed that the Apis Acraensis laboriosa, and
others in the East and West Indies, might be domesticated with
greater advantage than even the common hive-bee of Europe,
called the Apis mellifica.

205. Honey is one of the class of aliments which requires to be
used with some precaution, since not only are certain constitutions
of body affected injuriously by it, even in its most natural and
wholesome state, but it happens occasionally that the insects which
collect it resort to poisonous flowers, which impart their noxious
properties to the honey extracted from them.

Kirby mentions the case of a lady of his acquaintance upon
whom ordinary honey acted like poison, and says, that he heard
of instances in which death ensued from eating it.

But where the bee unfortunately resorts to poisonous plants,
the consequences are not thus limited to individuals of peculiar
idiosyncrasies. Dr. Barton has given a remarkable example of
this.*

In the autumn and winter of the year 1790, an extensive
mortality was produced amongst those who had partaken of the
honey, collected in the neighbourhood of Philadelphia. The
attention of the American government was excited by the general
distress; a minute enquiry into the cause of the mortality ensued,
and it was satisfactorily ascertained that the honey had been
chiefly extracted from the flowers of Kalmia latifolia, Though the
honey mentioned in Xenophon’s well-known account of the effect
of a particular sort, eaten by the Grecian soldiers during the cele-
brated retreat, after the death of the younger Cyrus, did not
operate fatally, it gave those of the soldiers who ate it in small
quantities the appearance of being intoxicated, and such as par-
took of it freely, of being mad or about to die, numbers lying on
the ground as if after a defeat. A specimen of this honey, which
still retains its deleterious properties, was sent to the Zoological
Society in 1834 from Trebizond, on the Black Sea, by Keith
E. Abbott, Esq.

206, The maladies of the bee proceed from three causes,—hun-
ger, damp, and infection; all of which admit of prevention when
the insect is maintained artificially.

* American Philosophical Transactions, vol. v. of the year 1790.
108

MALADIES OF ‘BEES.

Dysentery is the malady which is at once the most dreaded by
bee-owner, and the most easy to be prevented. It is always due
to damp or to bad diet, such as impure honey and indigestible
syrups. The remedies are consequently to place the hives in a
dry situation, and to supply the insects with wholesome food, such
as good honey mixed with a little generous wine. The greatest
care should also be taken to remove such combs as may be
rendered foul by excrement, and to clean the shelves in the
bee-houses.

Among other maladies may be mentioned, diseases of the
antenne, vertigo, and abortive broods of eggs. These are gene-
rally produced by bad food, damp, and drafts of cold air. On
that account some bee-cultivators reject the forms of hive or bee-
houses having two doors on opposite sides, thus placed for the
purpose of ventilation. This arrangement is never seen in the
natural habitations of the insect.

207. Dr. Bevan mentions a case of abortive brood which occur-
red in one of Mr. Dunbar’s hives. The colony had been very
strong in the previous autumn, and possessed a fertile queen, but
in the spring it failed, and did not swarm. On examination, he
found the four central leaves of the hive (which was one of Huber’s,
fig. 73), full of abortive brood, by the presence of which the queen
seemed to be paralysed, though she still laid a few eggs at the
edge of the combs, As the population seemed gradually dimi-
nishing, Mr. Dunbar cut out the whole of the abortive brood,
removed the old queen, and added an after swarm to the family.
The conjoined bees soon betook themselves to work, replaced the
old combs by new ones, and laid in an ample store of honey. This
is an operation called castration by French apiculturists; and in
all such cases it is prudent, in order to prevent contagion, to have
the infected combs burnt or buried.

208. Butler, in his ‘‘ Female Monarchy,” relates a story of a
eredulous lady who devoted herself to the cultivation of bees.
This person having gone to receive the sacrament, retained the
consecrated wafer ; and at the suggestion of a friend, more simple
than herself, placed it in one of her diseased hives. The bee
plague, according to her report, immediately ceased ; honey accu-
mulated; and, on examining the inside of the hive, she found
there, to her astonishment and admiration, a waxen chapel, of
wondrous architecture, supplied with an altar, and even with a
steeple, and a set of bells, all constructed of the same material.

209. The most dangerous enemies of the bees are the larve of
certain moths, which when once they take possession of a hive can-
not be extirpated, and no remedy remains but to transport the
entire population of the insect colony to a new habitation.

109

THE BEE.

The bee-louse, an insect about the size of a flea, often infests
populous hives, so as greatly to annoy the bees by fixing itself
upon them. Sometimes two or more attach themselves to a single
bee, making it restless and indisposed for its usual industry.

A magnified view of one of these parasites is shown in fig. 92,
_as seen from above ; and in fig. 93, as seen from below.

Fig. 92.—Bee Louse, Fig. 93.—Bee-Louse,
seen from above. seen from below.

That universal plunderer the wasp, and his formidable congener
the hornet, often seize and devour them; sometimes ripping open
their body to come at the honey, and at others carrying off that
part in which it is situated. Wasps frequently take possession
of a hive, having cither destroyed or driven away its inhabitants,
and consume all the honey it contains. Nay, there are certain
idlers of their own species, called by apiarists, corsair bees, which
plunder the hives of the industrious.

210, Examples have been already cited, in which bees have
manifested peculiar personal antipathies, which have been
ascribed, in the cases mentioned, to some odour, offensive to
the insect, proceeding from the obnoxious individuals. Inde-
pendently, however, of such general causes of hostility, the
insects are sometimes provoked against even their best friends
and most familiar acquaintances, by occasional circumstances,
Kirby relates, that although he was generally exempt from their
hostility, he could not venture with impunity to put them out
of humour. Thus happening one day, during the season when
asparagus was in blossom, to pass among the beds, which were
erowded with bees, he discomposed them so much that he was
obliged to make a hasty retreat, pursued by a swarm of his
offended friends.

211. In Mungo Park’s last mission to Africa, he was much
annoyed by bees. His people, searching for honey, having dis-
turbed a large colony of them, the insects sallied forth by myriads,
and attacking men and beasts indiscriminately, put them all to
the rout. One horse and six asses were killed or missing in con-
sequence of their attack, and for half an hour the bees seem to
Pate completely put an end to their journey. Isaacs, upon

10

MALADIES OF BEES.

another occasion, lost one of his asses, and one of his men was
almost killed by them.*

212. Bees, however, as we have already observed, are not
usually ill-tempered ; and, if not molested, are generally inoffen-
sive. Thorley relates,+ that a maid servant, who assisted him in
hiving a swarm, being rather afraid, put a linen cloth as a defence
over her head and shoulders. When the bees were shaken from
the tree on which they had alighted, the queen probably settled
upon this cloth, for the whole swarm covered it, and then getting
under it, spread themselves over her face, neck, and bosom, so
that when the cloth was removed, she was quite a spectacle. She
was with great difficulty kept from running off with all the bees
uponher. But at length her master quieted her fears, and began
to search for the queen. He succeeded, and expected that when
he put her into the hive the bees would follow. He was, however,
in the first instance disappointed, for they did not stir. Upon
examining the cluster again, he found a second queen, or probably
the former one, which had flown back to the swarm. Having
seized her, he placed her in the hive, and kept her there. The
bees soon missed her, and crowded into the hive after her, so that,
in two or three minutes, not one remained on the poor frightened
girl. After this escape she became quite a heroine, and would
undertake the most hazardous employment about the hives.

213. The duels of rival queens have been already mentioned.
Similar combats take place occasionally between the workers of
one hive and those of another. Nor are such wars confined to
single combats. General actions take place now and then between
neighbouring colonies. This occurs when one takes a fancy to a
hive which another has pre-occupied. Reaumur witnessed one of
these battles, which lasted a whole afternoon, and in which great
numbers fell on the one side and the other. In such cases, each
combatant selects his opponent, and the victorious one flies away
with the slain body of its enemy between its legs. After making
a short flight thus, she deposits it on the ground, and rests near
it, standing on her four anterior legs, and rubbing the two hinder
legs against each other, as though she enjoyed the sight of her
victim.

214, The following account of a bee battle was published in a
Carlisle newspaper. A swarm of bees flying over a garden, where
a newly tenanted hive was placed, suddenly stopped in their
flight, and, descending, settled upon the hive, completely covering
it. In a little time, they began to make their way to the door,
and poured into it in such numbers, that it became completely

* Park’s Last Mission, 153, 297. + Thorley, 150.
111

THE BEE.

filled. A loud humming noise was heard, and the work of de-
struction immediately ensued. The winged combatants sallied
forth from the hive until it became entirely emptied, and a fero-
cious battle commenced in the air between the besiegers and the
besieged. These intrepid warriors were so numerous, that they
literally darkened the sky overhead like a cloud. Meanwhile,
the destructive battle raged with great fury on both sides, and
the ground beneath was covered with the killed and wounded.
Hundreds were seen dispersed on the ground, lying dead, or
crawling about in a disabled state. To one party at length the
palm of victory was awarded, and they settled upon a branch
of an adjoining tree, from which they were removed to the deserted
hive, of which they took quiet possession, and commenced and
continued their usual industry.

112

yeaee

|

Cr adulata

Fig. 2.—The Termes Fatalis, or Bellicosus, with wings foldcd.

ig. 2.

Fig. 3.—Termes Fatalis, or Bellicosus, with wings expanded. Fig. 4.—The King.

THE WHITE ANTS.
THEIR MANNERS AND HABITS.

CHAPTER I.

1. Their classification.—2. Their mischievous habits.—3. The constitu-
tion of their societies. —4. Chiefly confined to the tropics.—5.
Figures of the king and queen.—6. Of the workers and soldiers.—
7. Treatment of the king and queen.—8. Habits of the workers.—
9. Of the soldiers—10. The nymphs.—11. Physiological characters. °
—12. First establishment of a colony.—13. Their use as food
and medicine.—14. The election of the king and queen.—15. |
Their subsequent treatment.—16. The impregnation of the queen.
—17. Figure of the pregnant queen.—18. Her vast fertility.—
19. Care bestowed upon ner eggs by the workers.—20. The royal
body-guard.—21. The Labitation of the colony.—22., Process of its
construction.—23. Its chambers, corridors, and approaches.—24.

Larpner’s Museum or Scrence. H 97
No. 106.

THE WHITE ANTS.

Vertical section, showing its internal arrangement.—25. View of
these habitations. —26. Contrivances in their construction.—27. Use
made of them by the wild cattle. —28. Used to obtain views to seaward.
—29. Use of domic summit for the preservation of the colony.—
30. Position, form, and arrangement of the royal chamber—its
gradual enlargement for the accommodation of the sovereigns.—31.
Tts doors.—32. The surrounding antechambers and corridors.—33.
The nurseries.—34. Their walls and partitions. —35. Their position
varied according to the exigencies of the colony.—36. The continual
repair and alterations of the habitation.—37. Peculiar mould which
coats the walls.—88. The store-rooms for provisions—the inclined
paths which approach them—the curious gothic arches which sur-
mount the apartments.—39. The subterranean passages, galleries,
and tunnels.—40. The covered ways by which the habitation is
approached.—41. The gradients or slopes which regulate these covered
ways.—42. The bridges by which they pass from one part of the
habitation to another.—48. Reflections on these wonderful works.—
44, The tenderness of their bodies render covered ways necessary.—
45. When forced to travel above ground they make a covered way—
if it be accidentally destroyed they will reconstruct it.

1. OF all the classes of insects which live in organised societies,
the most remarkable after the bee are the family Termitine, popu-
larly known under the name of white ants, though they have
little in common with the ant, except their social character and
habits.

Much discordance has prevailed among naturalists respecting
their history and classification. They were assigned by Linneus to
the order Aptera, or wingless insects. More exact observation
has, however, proved this to be erroneous; since, in the perfect
state, they possess membranous wings like those of the dragon-fly,
which being four in number, they have been more correctly
assigned to the order Neuroptera. Kirby regards them as forming,
together with the ants, a link between the orders Neuroptera
and Hymenoptera, being allied to the latter by their social
instincts.

2. Scarcely less remarkable than the bee in their social organisa-
tion, they differ from that insect inasmuch as while the labours
of the latter are attended with no evil to mankind, but are,
on the contrary, productive of an eminently useful and agreeable
article of food, the Termites, so far as naturalists have yet dis-
covered, are productive of nothing but extensive and unmitigated
mischief.

8. These insects live in societies, each of which consists of
countless numbers of individuals, the large majority of which are
apterous, or wingless. Two individuals only in each society, a
male and a female, or according to some, a king and a queen, are
winged, and these alone in the entire society are specimens of the

perfect insect, The general form of their bodies is shown in
98

THE KING AND QUEEN.

fig. 1 and fig. 2; the former representing the species called the
Termes embia, with its wings expanded, and the latter the Zermes
JSatals or bellicosus, with its wings folded.
4, With the exception of two or three small species, such as the
Termes lucifugus, described by Latreille and Rossi; the Termes
Jlavicollis, described by Fabricius; and the Termes flavipes, de-
scribed by Kollar, these insects are confined chiefly to the tropics.
5. Each society consists of five orders of individuals—

I. The queen or female.
II. The king or male.
III. The workers,
IV. The nymphs.
V. The neuters or soldiers.

The Zermes bedlicosus or fatalis, which is represented in fig. 2,
with wings folded, is shown in fig. 3 with wings expanded.

The king or male, which never changes its form after losing its
wings, is represented in fig. 4.

6. The worker is represented in its natural size in fig. 5, and
the soldier in fig. 6.

A magnified view of the worker is given in fig. 7, and a similar
magnified view of the forceps of ‘the soldier in fig. 8.

7. The king and queen are privileged individuals, surrounded
with all the respect and consideration, and receiving all the
attendance and honours, due to sovereigns. Exempted from all
participation in the common industry of the society, they aré
wholly devoted to increase and multiplication, the queen being
endowed with the most unbounded fertility. Though upon first
passing from the pupa state they have four wings, they lose
these appendages almost immediately, and during the period of
their sovereignty they are wingless. They are distinguished from
the inferior members of the society by the possession of organs of
vision, in the form of large and prominent eyes, their subjects
being all of them blind.

8. The workers are by far the most numerous members of the
society, being about a hundred times greater in number than the
soldiers. Their bodies also, fig. 5, are less than those of the sol-
diers, the latter being less than those of the sovereigns. The
entire industrial business of the society is performed by the workers.
They erect the common habitation, and keep it in repair. They
forage and collect provisions for the society. They attend upon
the sovereigns, and carry away the eggs of the queen, as fast
as she deposits them, to chambers which they previously prepare
for them. They maintain these chambers in order, and when the
eggs are hatched, they perform the part of nurses to the young,

H2 99

THE WHITE ANTS.

feeding and tending them until they have attained sufficient
growth to provide for themselves.

9, The soldiers, of whom, as already observed, there is not more
than one to every hundred workers, are distinguished by their
long and large heads, armed with long pointed mandibles, Their
duty, as their title implies, is confined to the defence of the society
and of their common habitation, when attacked by enemies.

10. The nymphs differ so little from the workers, that they
would be confounded with them, but that they have the rudi-
ments of wings, or, more strictly speaking, wings already formed,
folded up in wing cases. These escaped the notice of the earliest
observers, having been distinguished by Latreille.

11. Naturalists are not agreed as to the physiological character
of these three classes of the society. Some consider the workers
as the larvee which, at a certain advanced period of their growth,
are metamorphosed into the nymphs, which themselves finally pass
into the state of the perfect winged insect.

According to Kirby, the soldiers correspond to the neuters in
other societies of insects. As he observes, however, they differ
from the neuters of the societies of Hymenoptera, which are a sort
of sterile females. He conjectures that the soldiers may be the
larve which are finally transformed into the perfect male insect.
Great differences of opinion, however, prevail on this subject among
entomologists.

For our present purpose, these doubtful questions, whatever
interest they may have for naturalists, are altogether unimportant.
What we desire at present to direct attention to, is the curious
manners and habits of these insects, which have been ascertained
by many eminent naturalists, and have been described with great
minuteness by Smeathman in the seventy-first volume of the Philo-
sophical Transactions, from whose memoir we shall here borrow
largely.

According to Smeathman, the following is the manner in which
the establishment of each colony takes place.

12, The pup or nymphs, which compose, as has been stated,
part of a society, are transformed into the perfect insect, their
wings being fully developed and liberated from the wing cases
soon aftér the first tornado, which takes place at the close of the
dry season, and harbingers the periodical rains. The insects, thus
perfected, issue forth from their habitation in the evening, in
numbers literally countless, swarming after the manner of bees.
Borne upon their ample wings, and transported by the wind, they
fill the air, entering houses, extinguishing lights, and being some-
times driven on board ships which happen to be near the shore.
The next morning they are seen covering the surface of the earth

100

USED FOR FOOD.

and waters, deprived of the wings which enabled them, for a
moment, to escape their numerous enemies. They are now seen
as large maggots, and, from being the most active, industrious,
and sagacious of creatures, are become utterly helpless and
cowardly, and fall a prey to innumerable enemies, to the smallest
of which they do not attempt to offer the least resistance. Various
insects, and especially ants, lie in wait for them; beasts, birds,
and reptiles, and even man himself, all feed upon them, so that
not one pair in many millions make their escape in safety, and
fulfil the first law of nature by becoming the parents of a new
community. At this time they may be seen running upon the
ground, the male pursuing the female, and sometimes two pursu-
ing one, and contending with the greatest eagerness for the prize,
their passion rendering them regardless of the many dangers with
which they are surrounded.

13. Mr. K6nig, in an essay upon these insects, read before the
society of naturalists at Berlin, says that, in some parts of the
East Indies, the queens are given alive to old men for strengthen-
ing the back, and that the natives have a method of catching the
winged insects, which he calls females, before the time of emigra-
tion. They make two holes in the nest; the one to windward
and the other to leeward. At the leeward opening, they place the
mouth of a pot, previously rubbed with an aromatic herb, called
Bergera, which is more valued there than the laurel in Europe.
On the windward side they light a fire of stinking materials, the
smoke of which not only drives these insects into the pots, but fre-
quently the hooded snakes also, on which account they are obliged
to be cautious in removing them. By this method they catch great
quantities, of which they make with flour a variety of pastry,
which they can afford to sell very cheap. to the poorer ranks of
people. Mr. Kénig adds, that in seasons when this kind of food
is very plentiful, the too great use of it brings on an epidemic
cholic and dysentery, which kills in two or three hours,

Mr. Smeathman says, that he did not find the Africans so
ingenious in procuring or dressing them. They are content with
avery small part of those which, at the time of swarming, or
rather of emigration, fall into the neighbouring waters, which
they skim off with calabashes, bringing large kettles full of them
to their habitations, and parch them in iron pots over a gentle fire,
stirring them about as is usually done in roasting coffee. In that
state, without sauce or any other addition, they serve them as
delicious food, and put them by handfuls into their mouths, as
we do comfits. Smeathman ate them dressed in this way several
times, and thought them delicate, nourishing, and wholesome.
They are something sweeter, but not so fat or cloying, as the

101

THE WHITE ANTS.

caterpillar or maggot of the palm-tree snout beetle, which is
served up at all the luxurious tables of West Indian epicures,
particularly of the French, as the greatest dainty of the Western
World.

14, Troops of workers, apparently deprived of their king and
queen, which are constantly prowling about, occasionally encounter
one of these pairs, to which they offer their homage, and seem to
elect them as the sovereigns of their community, or the parents of
the colony which they are about to establish. All the individuals
of such a swarm, who are not so fortunate as to become the objects
of such an election, eventually perish under the attacks of the
enemies above mentioned, and probably never survive the day
which follows the evening of their swarming.

15. So soon as this election has been made, the workers begin
to enclose their new rulers in a small chamber of clay, suited to
their size, the entrances to which are only large enough to admit
themselves and the soldiers, but’ much too small for the royal pair
to pass through, so that their state of royalty is a state of confine-
ment, and so continues during the remainder of their lives.

16. The impregnation of the female is supposed to take place
after this confinement, and she soon begins to furnish the infant
colony with new inhabitants. The care of feeding her and her
male companion devolves upon the workers, who supply them both
with every thing that they want. As she increases in dimensions,
they keep enlarging the cell in which she is detained. When the
business of oviposition commences, they take the eggs from the
female, and deposit them in the nurseries. Her} abdomen now
begins gradually to extend, till, in process of time, it is enlarged
to 1500 or 2000 times the size of the rest of her body, and her bulk
equals that of 20000 or 30000 workers.

17. A drawing of the pregnant queen in her natural size is
given in fig. 9.

Fig. 9.—The Pregnant Queen.

18, The abdomen, often more than three inches in length, is
now a vast matrix of eggs, which make long circumvolutions
through numberless slender serpentine vessels: it is also remark-

102

THE ROYAL BODY-GUARD.

able for its peristaltic motion (in this resembling the female ant),
which, like the undulations of water, produces a perpetual and
successive rise and fall over its whole surface, and occasions a
constant extrusion of the eggs, amounting sometimes in old females
to sixty in a minute, or eighty thousand and upwards in twenty-
four hours. As these females live two years in their perfect state,
how astonishing must be the number produced in that time!

19. This incessant extrusion of eggs must call for the attention
of a large number of the workers in the royal chamber (and indeed
it is always full of them), to take them as they come forth and
carry them to the nurseries; in which, when hatched, they are
provided with food, and receive every necessary attention until
they are able to shift for themselves. One remarkable circum-
stance attends these nurseries. They are always covered with a
kind of mould, amongst which arise numerous globules about the
size of a small pin’s head. This probably is a species of Mucor ; and
by Mr. Kénig, who found them also in nests of an East India
species of Termes, is conjectured to be the food of the larve.

20. The royal cell has in it a kind of body-guard to the royal
pair that inhabit it; and the surrounding apartments always
contain many, both labourers and soldiers in waiting, that they
may successively attend upon and defend the common father and
mother on whose safety depend the happiness and even existence
of the whole community, and whom these faithful subjects never
abandon, even in their last distress,

21. The habitations of the Termites, which are generally of
considerable magnitude, vary in form, arrangement, and position,
according to the species. Those of the Termes bellicosus, de-
scribed above, have generally a sugar-loaf or hay-cock form, and
are from ten to twelve feet high. Inthe parts of Africa where the
insect prevails, these structures are so numerous that it is scarcely
possible to find a spot from which they are not visible in all
directions within fifty or sixty yards. In the neighbourhood of
Senegal, according to Adanson, their number and magnitude is
so great that they cannot be distinguished from the native
villages.

22. When first erected, the external surfaces of these conical-
shaped habitations consist of naked clay, but in these fertile
climates the seeds of herbage transported by the wind are speedily
deposited upon them, which germinating soon clothe them with
the same vegetation as that which covers the surrounding soil,
and when in the dry and warm season this vegetable covering is
scorched, they assume the appearance of large hay-cocks,

23. These vast mounds are formed of earth which has been
excavated by the workers from extensive tunnels which have

103

THE WHITE ANTS.

been carried beneath the ground surrounding their base, and
which supply covered ways by which the workers are enabled to
go forth in quest of provisions. The interior of the mounds
themselves are of most curious and complicated structure, con-
sisting of a variety of chambers and corridors, formed with the
most consummate art, and adapted in shape and size to the
respective purposes to which they are assigned in the general
economy of the colony.

24, In the superior part of the mound, a dome is constructed,
surmounting the habitations of the animals so as effectively to
shelter them from the vicissitudes of weather. This may be
seen in the vertical section of one gf these mounds, shown in
fig.10. The exterior covering of this dome is much stronger than
the internal structure beneath it, which constitutes the habita-
tion of the colony, and which is divided with surprising regu-
larity and contrivance into a vast number of chambers, one of
which is appropriated to the sovereigns, and the others distributed
among the soldiers, the workers, as nurseries, and as store-rooms.

The process by which these conical structures are raised is thus
described.

25. The habitation makes its first appearance as one or two
small sugar-loaf-shaped mounds about a foot in height. While
these are gradually increasing in height and magnitude, others
begin to appear near them, which likewise increase in number ;
and by the enlargement of their basis, they at length coalesce at
the lower parts. The middle mounds are always the highest, and
the largest, and by gradually filling up the intermediate space
by the enlargement of the bases of the several mounds, a single
mound, with various sugar-loaf-shaped masses of less magnitudes
growing out of it, is produced, as shown in fig. 10.

aaa. Turrets by which their hills are raised and enlarged.

2. A section of 1, as it would appear on being cut down through
the middle, from the top to the bottom, a foot lower than the
surface of the ground.

a 4, An horizontal line from a on the left, and a perpendicular
line from A at the bottom will intersect each other at the
royal chamber.

The darker shades near it are the empty apartments and
passages, which, it seems, are left so for the attendants on
the king and queen, who, when old, may require near one
hundred thousand to wait on them every day.

The parts which are least shaded and dotted, are the
nurseries, surrounded, like the royal chamber, by empty
passages on all sides, for the more easy access to them with

104

THEIR HABITATIONS.
Fig. 10.

View of the Habitations of the White Ants, reproduced from the original
drawing of Smeathman, engraved in the ‘‘ Phil, Trang.,” vol, 1xxi.

105

THE WHITE ANTS.

the eggs from the queen, the provision for the young, &c.
N.B. The magazines of provisions are situated without any
seeming order, among the vacant passages which surround the
nurseries.

z. The top of the interior building, which often seems, from the
arches carried upward, to be adorned on the sides with
pinnacles.

c. The floor of the area or nave.

ppb. The large galleries which ascend from under all the
buildings spirally to the top.

EE. The bridge.

3. The first appearance of a hill-nest by two turrets.

4. A tree with the nest of the Termites arborum, with their
covered way.

F FFF. Covered ways of the Termites arborum.

5. The nest of the Termites arborum.

6. A nest of the Termites bellicosi, with Europeans on it.

7. A bull standing sentinel upon one of these nests.

Ga. The African palm-trees from the nuts of which is made the
Oleum palme.

26. When by the accumulation of these turrets the dome has
been completed, in which process the turrets supply the place of
scaffolding, the workers excavate the interior of them, and make
use of the clay in building the partitions and walls of the apart-
ments constructed in the base of the mound which constitutes
their proper habitation, and also for erecting fresh turrets sur-
mounting the mound and increasing its height. In this manner
the same clay, which, as has been already explained, was excavated
from the underground ways issuing around the mound, is used
several times over, just as are the posts and boards of a mason’s
scaffolding.

27. When these mounds have attained a little more than half
their height, their tops being then flat, the bulls which are the
leaders of the herds of wild cattle which prevail in the surround-
ing country, are accustomed to mount upon them so as to obtain
a view of the surrounding plain: thus placed they act as sentinels
for the general herd which feeds and ruminates around them,
giving them notice of the approach of any danger. This circum-
stance supplies an incidental proof of the strength of these
structures.

28. Smeathman states that when he was in that country, and
desired to obtain a view of the sea to ascertain the approach
of vessels, he was in the habit of mounting with three or four

of his assistants upon the summits of these conical mounds,
106

THE ROYAL CHAMBER.

the elevation of which was sufficient to enable him to obtain a
satisfactory view.

29. The superior shell or dome by which the mound is sur--
mounted is not only of use to protect the interior buildings from
external violence and from the tropical rains, but, from its non-
conducting quality, to preserve that uniform temperature within,
which is necessary for hatching the eggs and cherishing the.
young.

30. The royal chamber appropriated to the sovereigns engrosses.
much of the attention and skill of their industrious subjects. It
is generally placed about the centre of the base of the mound, at
the level of the surrounding ground, and has the shape of half
an egg divided by a plane at right angles to its axis passing a
little below its centre. Thus the shape of this chamber is that
which architects call a surmounted dome. Its magnitude is pro-
portioned to that of the king and queen to whom it is appropriated.
In the infant state of the colony, before the queen is advanced in
pregnancy, the diameter of this room does not exceed an inch,
but as the royal lady increases in the manner already described,
the workers continually enlarge the room, until at length it.
attains a diameter of eight or nine inches. Its floor is perfectly
level, and formed of clay about an inch thick. The roof is formed
of a solid well-turned oval arch increasing in thickness from a
quarter of an inch at the sides where it rests upon the floor.

31. The doors are cnt in the wall, and made of a magnitude
suitable to the entrance and exit of the soldiers and workers who
attend on the royal pair, but much too small for the passage of the-
royal personages themselves.

82. This large chamber is surrounded by numerous others of’
less dimensions, and various shapes, all of which have arched
roofs, some circular, and some elliptical. These chambers com-
municate with each other by doors and corridors. Those which
are immediately contiguous to the royal chamber are appropriated.
to the soldiers, who are in immediate attendance on the sovereign,.
and to the workers, whose duty it is to supply and attend the royal
table, and to carry away the eggs as fast as they are laid by the

meen.
33. Around these antechambers is another suite of apart-
ments, consisting of store-rooms for provisions, chambers for the-
reception of the eggs, and nurseries for the young. The store-
rooms are constructed like other parts of the habitation, with walls.
and partitions of clay, and are always amply supplied with provi-
sions, which, to the naked eye, seem to consist of the raspings of
wood and plants, which the workers destroy. Upon submitting
them to the microscope, however, they are found to consist prin--
107

THE WHITE ANTS.

cipally of vegetable gums and inspissated juices. These are
thrown together in masses of different appearance, some resem-
bling the sugar on preserved fruits, some transparent, and others
opaque, as is commonly seen in all parcels of gum.

The nurseries, on the other hand, are constructed in a manner
totally different from the other rooms.

34, The walls and partitions of these consist entirely of wooden
materials, cemented together with gum. These nurseries, in
which the eggs are hatched, and the young secured, are small
irregularly shaped rooms, none of which exceed half an inch in
width.

35. When the nest is in the infant state, the nurseries are
close to the royal chamber; but as in process of time the queen
enlarges, it is necessary to enlarge the chamber for her accommo-
dation; and as she then lays a great number of eggs, and requires
a greater number of attendants, so it is necessary also to enlarge
and increase the number of the antechambers; for which purpose
the small nurseries first built] are taken to pieces, rebuilt a little
further off a size larger, and their number increased.

36. Thus they continually enlarge their apartments, pull down,
repair, or rebuild, according to their wants, with a degree of
sagacity, regularity, and foresight, not observed among any other
kind of animals or insects.

37. There is one remarkable circumstance attending the nur-
series which ought not to be omitted. They are always found
slightly overgrown with mould, and plentifully sprinkled with
white globules, about the size of the head of a small pin. These
may be at first mistaken for eggs; but submitting them to the
microscope, they appear to be a species of mushroom, similar
to the common mushroom, of the sort usually pickled. They
appear, when whole, white like snow a little thawed and after-
wards frozen; and, when bruised, seem to be composed of an
infinite number of pellucid particles, having a nearly oval form,
and difficult to be separated. The mouldiness seems to be com-
posed of the same kind of substance. The nurseries are enclosed
in chambers of clay, like the store-rooms, but much larger. In
the early state of the nest, they are not bigger than a hazel-nut,
but in large hills are much more spacious.

38. These magazines and nurseries, separated by small empty
chambers and galleries, which run round them, or communicate
from one to the other, are continued on all sides to the outer wall
of the building, and reach up within it to two-thirds or three-
fourths of its height. They do not, however, fill up the whole of
the lower part of the hill, but are confined to the sides, leaving

an open area in the middle, under the dome, very much resem-
108

SUBTERRANEOUS PASSAGES.

bling the nave of an old cathedral, having its roof supported by
three or four very large Gothic arches, of which those in the
middle of the area are sometimes two and three feet high; but
as they recede on each side, rapidly diminish, like the arches of
aisles in perspective. A flattish roof, without perforation, in
order to keep out the wet, if the dome should chance to be
injured, covers the top of the assemblage of chambers, nurseries,
&c.; and the area, which is above the royal chambers, has a flat-
tish floor, also water-proof, and so contrived as to let any rain
that may chance to get in, run off into the subterraneous pas-
sages which run from the basement of the lower apartments
through the hill in various directions; and one of astonishing
magnitude, often having a bore greater than that of a large piece
of ordnance. Smeathman measured the diameter of one of
these passages, which was perfectly cylindrical, and found it to
be thirteen inches.

39. These subterraneous passages, or galleries, are lined very
thick with the same kind of clay of which the hill is composed, and
ascend the inside of the outer shell in a spiral manner, and
winding round the whole building, up to the top, intersect each
other at different heights, opening either immediately into the
dome in various places, antl into the interior building, the
new turrets, &c., or communicating thereto by other galleries of
different bores or diameter, either circular or oval.

From every part of these large galleries are various small
tunnels or galleries, leading to different parts of the building.
Under ground there are many which lead downward, by sloping
descents, three or four feet perpendicular, among the gravel,
from whence the workers cull the finer parts, which, being
worked up in their mouths to the consistence of mortar, become
that solid clay of which their hills and all their buildings, except
their nurseries, are composed.

40. Other galleries again ascend, and lead out horizontally on
every side, and are carried under ground, near to the surface, to
a vast distance: for if you destroy all the nests within one
hundred yards of your house, the inhabitants of those which are
left unmolested farther off will, nevertheless, carry on their
subterraneous galleries, and invade the goods and merchandises
contained in it by sap and mine, and do great mischief, if you
are not very circumspect.

41. But to return to the cities from whence these extraordinary
expeditions and operations originate, it seems there is a degree
of necessity for the galleries under the hills being thus large,
being the great thoroughfares for all the labourers and soldiers
going forth or returning upon any business whatever, whether

109

THE WHITE ANTS.

fetching clay, wood, water, or provisions; and they are certainly
well calculated for the purposes to which they are applied, by the
spiral slope which is given them; for if they were perpendicular,
the labourers would not be able to carry on their building with so
much facility, since they cannot ascend a perpendicular without
great difficulty, and the soldiers can scarcely do it at all.
It is on this account that sometimes a road, like a ledge, is
made on the perpendicular side of part of the building within
their hill, which is flat on the upper surface, and half an inch
wide, and ascends gradually like a staircase, or like those
roads which are cut on the sides of hills and mountains, that
would otherwise be inaccessible; by which, and similar con-
‘trivances, they travel with great facility to every interior part.

42, This too is probably the cause of their building a kind of
bridge of one vast arch, which answers the purpose of a flight of
stairs from the floor of the area to some opening on the side
of one of the columns which support the great arches. Such
bridges shorten the distance considerably to those labourers who
have the eggs to carry from the royal chamber to some of the
upper nurseries, which in some hills would be four or five feet in
the straightest line, and much more if carried through all the
winding passages which lead through the inner chambers and
apartments.

Smeathman found one of these bridges half an inch broad, a
quarter of an inch thick, and ten inches long, making the side of
an elliptic arch of proportional size; so that it is wonderful it
did not fall over or break by its own weight before they got it
joined to the side of the column above. It was strengthened by a
small arch at the bottom, and had a hollow or groove all the length
of the upper surface, either made purposely for the inhabitants
to travel over with more safety, or else, which is not improbable,
worn so by frequent treading.

43. “Consider,” observes Kirby, ‘‘ what incredible labour and
diligence, accompanied by the most unremitting activity and the
most unwearied celerity of movement, must be necessary to enable
these creatures to accomplish, their size considered, these truly
gigantic works. That such diminutive insects, for they are
scarcely the fourth of an inch in length, however numerous,
should, in the space of three or four years, be able to erect a
building twelve feet high, and of a proportionable bulk, covered by
a vast dome, adorned without by numerous pinnacles and turrets,
and sheltering under its ample arch myriads of vaulted apart-
ments of various dimensions, and constructed of different materials
—that they should moreover excavate, in different directions, and

at different depths, innumerable subterranean roads or tunnels,
110

THEIR MARVELLOUS WORKS.

some twelve or thirteen inches in diameter, or throw an arch of
stone over other roads leading from the metropolis into the
adjoining country to the distance of several hundred feet—that
they should project and finish the, for them, vast interior stair-
cases or bridges lately described—and, finally, that the millions
necessary to execute such Herculean labours, perpetually passing
to and fro, should never interrupt or interfere with each other,
is a miracle of nature, or rather of the Author of nature, far
exceeding the most boasted works and structures of man: for,
did these creatures equal him in size, retaining their usual instincts
and activity, their buildings would soar to the astonishing height
of more than half a mile, and their tunnels would expand toa
magnificent cylinder of more than three hundred feet in diameter ;
before which the pyramids of Egypt and the aqueducts of Rome
would lose all their celebrity, and dwindle into nothings.

‘‘The most elevated of the pyramids of Egypt is not more than
600 feet high, which, setting the average height of man at only
five feet, is not more than 120 times the height of the workmen
employed. Whereas the nests of the Termites being at least
twelve feet high, and the insects themselves not exceeding
quarter of an inch in stature, their edifice is upwards of 500 times
the height of the builders; which, supposing them of human
dimensions, would be more than half a mile. The shaft of the
Roman aqueducts was lofty enough to permit a man on horseback
to travel in them.” *

44, The bodies of the Termites are generally soft and covered
with a thin and delicate skin, and being blind, they are no match
on the open ground for the ants who are endowed with vision, and
whose bodies are invested in a strong horny shell. Whenever the
Termites are accidentally dislodged from their subterraneous
roads or dwellings, the various species of ants instantly seize
them and drag them away to their nests as food for their young.

45. The Termites are therefore very solicitous about preserving
their tunnels and vaulted roads in good repair. If some of them
be accidentally demolished for a few inches in length, it is wonder-
ful how speedily they rebuild it. At first, in their hurry, they
advance into the open part for an inch or two, but stop so suddenly
that it is very apparent that they are surprised, for although some
run straight on until they get under the arch beyond the damaged
part, most of them run as fast back, and very few of them will
venture through that part of the track which is left uncovered.
In a few minutes, however, they will be seen rebuilding the arch,
and even if three or four yardsin length have been destroyed, they
will reconstruct it ina single day. If this be again destroyed,

* Kirby, vol. i. p. 434.
111

THE WHITE ANTS.

they will be seen as numerous as ever passing both ways along it,
and they will again in like manner reconstruct it. But if the
same part be destroyed several times successively, they will give
up the point and build a new covered way in another direction.
Nevertheless, if the old one should lead to some favourite source
of plunder, they will, after a few days’ interval, still reconstruct it,
apparently in the hope that the cause of destruction will not again
occur, nor will they in that case wholly abandon the undertaking
unless their habitation itself be destroyed.

a

Fig. 5.—Workor.

Fig. 8.—Forceps of Soldior,
magnified.

Fig. 7.—Worker, magnified.

THE WHITE ANTS,
THEIR MANNERS AND HABITS.

—_+—-

CHAPTER II.

46, Turrets built by the Termes mordax and the Termes atrox.—47. De-
scription of their structure.—48. Their king, queen, worker, and
soldier.—49. Internal structure of their habitation.—50. Nests of the
Termes arborum.—51. Process of their construction.—52. Hill nests
on the Savannahs.—53. The Termes lucifugus—the organisation cf
their societies. —54. Habits of the workers and soldiers—the materials
they use for building.—55. Their construction of tunnels. —56. ‘Nests
of the Termes arborum in the roofs of houses.—57. Destructive habits
of the Termes bellieosus in excavating all species of wood-work—
entire houses destroyed by them.—58. Curious process by which they
fill with mortar the excavations which they make—destruction of
Mr. Smeathman’s microscope.—59. Destruction of shelves and wain-
scoting.—60. Their artful process to escape observation.—61.
Anecdotes of them by Kempfer and Humboldt.—62. Destruction of
the Governor’s house at Calcutta—destruction by them of a British
ship of the line.—63. Their manner of attacking timber in the open
air—their wonderful power of destroying fallen timber.—64. The
extraordinary behaviour of the soldiers when a nest is attacked. .

Larpyer’s Mussvat or Science. I 113
Na 1NR

THE WHITE ANTS.

65. Their rage and fury against those who attack them.—66. Their
industry and promptitude in repairing the damage of their habitation.
—67. The vigilance of the soldiers during the process of repair.—
68. Effects of a second attack on their habitation, conduct of the
soldiers. —69. Difficulty of investigating the structure of their habita-
tions—obstinate opposition of the soldiers—discovery of the royal
chamber—fidelity of the subjects to the sovereign—curious experiment
of Mr. Smeathman.—70. Curious example of the repair of a partially
destroyed nest.—71. The marching Termites—curious observation of
their proceedings by Smeathman—remarkable conduct of the soldiers
on the occasion.

46. A smaller species of Termites erect habitations, which, if
they are of less dimensions, are not less curious in their structure.

These buildings are upright cylinders, composed of a well-
tempered black earth or clay, about three quarters of a yard high,
and covered with a roof of the same material in the shape of a
cone, whose base extends over and hangs down three or four
inches wider than the perpendicular sides of the cylinder, so that
most of them resemble in shape a round windmill, or still more
closely the round towers which are so frequently seen in Ireland,
and which have attracted so much attention on the part of
antiquaries. Some of these roofs have so little elevation in the
centre, that they have a close resemblance to certain species of
mushroom.

After one of these turrets is finished, it is not altered or
enlarged ; but when no longer capable of containing the commu-
nity, the foundation of another is laid within a few inches of it.
Sometimes, though but rarely, the second is begun before the
first is finished, and a third before they have completed the
second: thus they will run up five or six of these turrets at
the foot of a tree in the thick woods, and make a most singular
group of buildings, as shown in fig. 11.

1 Nest of the Termes mordac,

2 Nest of the Zermes atroz.

3 A turret with the roof begun.

4 A turret raised only about half its height.

5 A turret built upon one which has been thrown down.
6 6 A turret broken in two.

47. The turrets are so strongly built, that in case of violence
they will much sooner overset from the foundations, and tear up
the ground and solid earth, than breakin the middle; and in that
case the insects will frequently begin another turret and build it,
as it were, through that which has fallen; for they will connect
the cylinder below with the ground, and run upa new turret from
its upper side, so that it will seem to rest upon the horizontal
eylinder only.

114

TURRET NESTS.

The Turret Nests of the Termes Mordax and Termes Atrox.
12 115

THE WHITE ANTS.

48. In fig. 12 is represented the king or queen of the Termes
mordaz, in fig. 13 the worker, and in fig. 14 the soldier.

TERMES MORDAX,.

Fig. 12. Fig. 13, Fig. 14.
is * ‘

Lemke : So ’

Worker. Soldier.

King or Queen,

The building is divided into innumerable cells of irregular
shapes ; sometimes they are quadrangular or cubic, and sometimes
pentagonal ; but often the angles are so ill defined, that each half
of a cell will be shaped like the inside of that shell which is
called the sea-car.

49, Each cell has two or more entrances, but as there are no
tunnels or galleries, no variety of apartments, no well-turned
arches, wooden nurseries, &c., &c., as in the habitations already
described, they are not calculated to excite the same degree of
wonder, however admirable they may be considered without
reference to other structures.

There are two sizes of these turret nests, built by two different
species of Termites. The larger species, the Zermes atroz, in its
perfect state, measures one inch and three-tenths from the
extremities of the wings on the one side to the extremities on the
other. The lesser, Termes mordar, measures only eight-tenths
of an inch from tip to tip.

50. The next kind of nests, built by another species of this
genus, the Termes arborum, have very little resemblance to the
former in shape or substance. These are generally spherical or
oval, built in trees: sometimes they are established between, and
sometimes surrounding, the branches, at the height of seventy or
eighty feet; and are occasionally as large as a great sugar-cask.

51. They are composed of small particles of wood and the various
gums and juices of trees, combined with, perhaps, those secreted
by the animals themselves, worked by those little industrious
creatures into a paste, and so moulded into innumerable little cells
of different and irregular forms. These nests, with the immense
quantity of inhabitants, young and old, with which they are at
all times crowded, are used as food for young fowls, and especially
for the rearing of Turkeys. These nests are very compact, and
so strongly fixed to the boughs, that there is no detaching them
but by cutting them in pieces, or sawing off the branch. They
will even sustain the force of a tornado as long as the tree to

116

TREE ANT’S NEST.

which they are attached. This species has the external habit,
size, and almost the colour, of the Termes atrox.

52. There are some nests that resemble the hill-nests first
described, built in those sandy plains called Savannahs. They
are composed of black mud, raised from a few inches below the
white sand, and are built in the form of an imperfect or bell-
shaped cone, having their tops rounded. These are generally
about four or five feet high. They seem to be inhabited by
insects nearly as large as the Termes bellicosus, and differing very
little from that species, except in colour, which is brighter.

53. The societies of Termes lucifugus, discovered by Latreille
at Bourdeaux, are very numerous; but instead of making arti-
ficial nests, they make their lodgments in the trunks of pines
and oaks, where the branches diverge from the tree. They
eat the wood the nearest the bark without attacking the interior,
and bore a vast number of holes and irregular galleries. That
part of the wood appears moist, and is covered with little gelatinous
particles, not unlike gum-arabic. These insects seem to be fur-
nished with an acid of a very penetrating odour, which, perhaps,
is useful to them in softening the wood. The soldiers in those
societies are as about one to twenty-five of the labourers.

The anonymous author of the Observations on the Termites of
Ceylon, seems to have discovered a sentry-box in his nests. ‘TI
found,” says he, ‘‘in a very small cell in the middle of the solid
mass, (a cell about half an inch in height, and very narrow,) a
larva with an enormous head. ‘Two of ,these individuals were in
the same cell; one of the two seemed placed as sentinel at the
entrance of the cell. I amused myself by forcing the door two or
three times; the sentinel immediately appeared, and only
retreated when the door was on the point to be stopped up,
which was done in three minutes by the labourers.”

54, Having thus given some idea of their habitations, we shall
now direct our observations to the insects themselves, their
manner of building, fighting, and marching, and to a more
particular account of the vast mischief they cause to mankind.

It isa common character of the different species which have
been, noticed, that the workers and the soldiers never expose
themselves in the open air, but invariably travel either under
ground, or along the holes which they bore in trees and other
substances. When in certain exceptional cases in quest of
plunder they are compelled to move above ground, they make a
vault with a coping of earth, or a tube, formed. of that material
with which they build their nests, along which they travel com-
pletely protected. The Termes bellicosus uses for this purpose
the red, and the turret-builders black clay; whilst the Termes

117

THE WHITE ANTS.

arborum employs for the purpose the ligneous substances of which
their nests are composed.

55. With these materials they completely line most of the roads
leading from their nests into the various parts of the country,
and travel out and home with the utmost security in all kinds of
weather. If they meet a rock or any other obstruction, they will
make their way upon the surface, and for that purpose erect a
covered way or arch, still of the same materials, continuing it
with many windings and ramifications through large grooves,
having, where it is possible, subterranean pipes running parallel
with them, into which they sink, and save themselves, if their
galleries above ground are destroyed by any violence, or the tread
of men or animals alarmsthem. When any one chances by accident
to enter any solitary grove, where the ground is pretty well
covered with their arched galleries, they give the alarm by loud
hissings, which he hears distinctly at every step he makes ; soon
after which he may examine their galleries in vain for the insects,
which escape through little holes, just large enough for them,
into their subterraneous roads. These galleries are large enough
for them to pass and repass, so as to prevent any stoppages, and
shelter them equally from light and air, as well as from their
enemies, of which the ants, being the most numerous, are the
most formidable.

56. The Zermites arborum, those which build in trees, fre-
quently establish their nests within the roofs and other parts of
houses, to which they do considerable damage if not extirpated.

57. The larger species are, however, not only much more
destructive, but more difficult to be guarded against, since they
make their approaches chiefly under ground, descending below
the foundations of houses and stores at several feet from the
surface, and rising again either in the floors, or entering at the
bottoms of the posts, of which the sides of the buildings are
composed, bore quite through them, following the course of the
fibres to the top, or making lateral perforations and cavities here
and there as they proceed.

While some are employed in gutting the posts, others ascend
from them, entering a rafter or some other part of the roof. If
they once find the thatch, which seems to be a favourite food,
they soon bring up wet clay, and build their pipes or galleries
through the roof in various directions, as long as it will support
them, sometimes eating the palm-tree leaves and branches of
which it is composed, and perhaps (for variety seems very pleasing
to them) the rattan or other running plant which is used as a cord
to tie the various parts of the roof together, and to the posts
which support it; thus, with the assistance of the rats, who,

118

THE DESTRUCTION THEY EFFECT.

during the rainy season, are apt to shelter themselves there, and
to burrow through it, they very soon ruin the house by weakening
the fastenings and exposing it to the wet. In the meantime, the
posts will be perforated in every direction, as full of holes as that
timber in the bottom of ships which has been bored by the worms;
the fibrous and knotty parts, which are the hardest, being left to
the last.

58. They sometimes, in carrying on this business, find that the
post has some weight to support, and then, if it is a convenient
track to the roof, or is itself a kind of wood agreeable to them,
they bring their mortar, and fill all or most of the cavities,
leaving the necessary roads through it, and as fast as they take
away the wood, replace the vacancy with that material; which
being worked together by them closer and more compactly than
human strength or art could ram it, when the house is pulled to
pieces, in order to examine if any of the posts are fit to be used
again, those of the softer kinds are often found reduced almost to
a shell, and all, or a greater part, transformed from wood to clay,
as solid and as hard as many kinds of freestone used for building
in England.

It is much the same when the Termites bellicosi get into a
chest or trunk containing clothes and other things; if the
weight above is great, or they are afraid of ants and other
enemies, and have time, they carry their pipes through, and
replace a great part with clay, running their galleries in various
directions. The tree-Termites, indeed, when they get within a
box, often make a nest there, and being once in possession destroy
it at their leisure. They did so in a pyramidal box which
contained the compound microscope of Mr. Smeathman. It was
of mahogany, and he deposited it in the warehouse of Governor
Campbell of Tobago, while he made a tour of a few months in the
Leeward Islands. On his return he found that the Termites had
done much mischief in the warehouse, and, among other things,
had taken possession of the microscope, and eaten everything
about it except the glass or metal, including the board on which
the pedestal is fixed, with the drawers under it, and the things
enclosed.. The cells were built all round the pedestal and the
tube, and attached to it on every side. All the glasses were
covered with the wooden substance of their nests, and retained
a cloud of a gummy nature upon them which was not easily got
off, and the lacquer or burnish with which the brasswork was
covered was totally spoiled.

Another party had taken a liking to a cask of Madeira, and
had bored so as to discharge almost a pipe of fine old wine. If
the large species of Africa (the Termites bellicost) had been so

119

THE WHITE ANTS.

long in the uninterrupted possession of such a warehouse, they
would not have left twenty pounds weight of wood remaining of
the whole building, and all that it contained.

59. These insects are not less expeditious in destroying the
shelves, wainscotting, and other fixtures of a house, than the
house itself. They are for ever piercing and boring in all direc-
tions, and sometimes go out of the broadside of one post into that
of another joining to it; but they prefer, and always destroy the
softer substances the first, and are particularly fond of pine and
fir-boards, which they excavate and carry away with wonderful
despatch and astonishing cunning ; for, unless a shelf Has some-
thing standing upon it, as a book, or anything else which may
tempt them, they will not perforate the surface, but artfully
preserve it quite whole, and eat away all the inside, except a
few fibres which barely keep the two sides connected together, so
that a piece of an inch board which appears solid to the eye will
not weigh much more than two sheets of pasteboard of equal
dimensions, after these animals have been a little while in posses-
sion of it.

60. In short the Termites are so insidious in their attacks, that
we cannot be too much on our guard against them: they will
sometimes begin and raise their works, especially in new houses,
through the floor. If you destroy the work so begun, and make
a fire upon the spot, the next night'they will attempt to rise
through another part; and, if they happen to emerge under a
chest or trunk early in the night, will pierce the bottom, and
destroy or spoil everything in it before morning. On these
accounts care is taken by the inhabitants of the country to set all
their chests and boxes upon stones or bricks, so as to leave the
bottoms of such furniture some inches above the ground ; which
not only prevents these insects finding them out so readily, but
preserves the bottoms from a corrosive damp which would strike
from the earth through, and rot everything therein; a vast deal
of vermin would also harbour under, such as cockroaches, centi-
pedes, millepedes, scorpions, ants, and various other noisome
insects.

61. Kempfer, speaking of the white ants of Japan, gives a
remarkable instance of the rapidity with which these miners
proceed. Upon rising one morning, he observed that one of their
galleries, of the thickness of his little finger, had been formed
across his table; and upon a further examination he found that
they had bored a passage of that thickness up one foot of the
table, formed a gallery across it, and then pierced down another
foot into the floor; all this was done in the few hours that inter-

yened between his retiring to rest and his rising. They make
120

N

THEIR VORACITY.

their way also with the greatest ease into trunks and boxes, even
though made of mahogany, and destroy papers and everything
they contain, constructing their galleries and sometimes taking
up their abode in them. Hence, as Humboldt informs us, through-
out all the warmer parts of equinoctial America, where these
and other destructive insects abound, it is infinitely rare to find
papers which go fifty or sixty years back. In one night they
will devour all the boots and shoes that are left in their way;
cloth, linen, or books are equally to their taste; but they will
not eat cotton. They entirely consumed a collection of insects
made in India. In a word, scarcely anything but metal or stones
comes amiss to them.

62. It iseven asserted that the superb residence of the Governor-
General at Calcutta, which cost the East India Company such
immense sums, is now rapidly going to decay in consequence of
the attacks of these insects. But not content with the dominions
they have acquired, and the cities they have laid low on terra
firma, encouraged by success, the white ants have also aimed at
the sovereignty of the ocean, and once had the hardihood to
attack even a British ship of the line; and in spite of the efforts
of the commander and his valiant crew, having boarded they got
possession of her, and handled her so roughly, that when brought
into port, being no longer fit for service, she was obliged to be
broken up.

The ship here alluded to was the Albion, which was in such a
condition from the attack of these insects, that had it not been
firmly lashed together, it was thought she would have foundered
on her voyage home. The late Mr. Kittoe stated that the droguers
or draguers, a kind of lighter employed in the West Indies in
collecting the sugar, sometimes so swarm with ants of the common
kind, that they have no other way of getting rid of these trouble-
some insects than by sinking the vessel in shallow water.

63. When the Termites attack trees and branches in the open
air, they sometimes vary their manner of doing it. Ifa stake ina
hedge has not taken root and vegetated, it becomes their business
to destroy it. If it has a good sound bark round it, they will
enter at the: bottom, and eat all but the bark, which will remain,
and exhibit the appearance of a solid stick (which some vagrant
colony of ants or other insects often shelter in, till the winds
disperse it); but if they cannot trust the bark, they cover the
whole stick with their mortar, and it then looks as if it had been
dipped into thick mud that had been dried on. Under this
covering they work, leaving no more of the stick and bark than
is barely sufficient to support it, and frequently not the smallest
particle, so that upon a very small tap with your walking stick,

121

THE WHITE ANTS.

the whole stake, though apparently as thick as your arm, and five
or six feet long, loses its form, and, disappearing like a shadow,
falls in small fragments at your feet. They generally enter the
body of a large tree which has fallen through age, or been thrown
down by violence, on the side next the ground, and eat away at
their leisure within the bark, without giving themselves the
trouble either to cover it on the outside, or to replace the wood
which they have removed from within, being somehow sensible
that there is no necessity for it. ‘‘Such excavated trees,” says
Mr, Smeathman, ‘deceived me two or three times in running ;
for, attempting to step two or three feet high, I might as well
have attempted to step upon a cloud, and have come down with
such unexpected violence, that, besides shaking my teeth and
bones almost to dislocation, I have been precipitated head fore-
most among the neighbouring trees and bushes.” Sometimes,
though seldom, the animals are known to attack living trees; but
not before symptoms of mortification have appeared at the roots ;
since it is evident that these insects are intended in the order of
nature to hasten the dissolution of such trees and vegetables as
have arrived at their greatest maturity and perfection, and which
would, by a tedious decay, serve only to encumber the face of the
earth. This purpose they answer so effectually that nothing
perishable escapes them, and it is almost impossible to leave any-
thing penetrable upon the ground a long time in safety; for the
odds are, put it where you will abroad, they will find it out
before the following morning, and its destruction follows very
soon of course. In consequence of this disposition, the woods
never remain long encumbered with the fallen trunks of trees or
their branches; and thus it is that the total destruction of deserted
‘towns is so effectually completed, that in two or three years a
thick wood fills the space; and, unless zvon-wwood posts have been
made use of, not the least vestige of a house is to be discovered.
64, The first object of admiration, which strikes one upon
opening their hills, is the behaviour of their soldiers. If you
make a breach in a slight part of the building, and do it quickly,
with a strong hoe or pick-axe, in the space of a few seconds a
soldier will run out, and walk about the breach, as if to see
whether the enemy is gone, or to examine what is the cause of
the attack. He will sometimes go in again, as if to give the
alarm; but most frequently, in a short time, is followed by two
or three others, who run as fast as they can, straggling after one
another, and are soon followed by a large body, who rush out as
fast as the breach will permit them, and so they proceed, the
number increasing, as long as any one continues battering their
building. It is not easy to describe the rage and fury they show.
122

FEROCITY OF THE SOLDIERS.

In their hurry they frequently miss their hold, and tumble
down the sides of the hill, but recover themselves as quickly as
possible; and being blind, bite everything they run against, and
thus make a crackling noise, while some of them beat repeatedly
with their forceps upon the building, and make a small vibrating
noise, something shriller and quicker than the ticking of a watch.
This noise can be distinguished at three or four feet distance, and
continues for a minute at a time, with short intervals. While
the attack proceeds, they are in the most violent bustle and
agitation.

65. If they get hold of any one they will, in an instant,
let out blood enough to weigh against their whole body; and
if it is the leg they wound, you will see the stain upon the
stocking extend an inch in width. They make their hooked
jaws meet at the first stroke, and never quit their hold, but
suffer themselves to be pulled away leg by leg, and piece after
piece, without the least attempt to escape. On the other hand,
keep out of their way, and give them no interruption, and. they
will, in less than half an hour, retire into the nest, as if they sup-
posed the wonderful monster that damaged their castle to be gone
beyond their reach,

66. Before they are all got in, you will see the labourers in
motion, and hastening in various directions towards the breach ;
every one with a burthen of mortar in his mouth ready tempered.
This they stick upon the breach as fast as they come up, and do
it with so much dispatch and facility, that although there are
thousands, and even millions of them, they never stop or embarrass
one another; and you are most agreeably deceived when, after
an apparent scene of hurry and confusion, a regular wall arises,
gradually filling up the chasm. While they are thus employed,
almost all the soldiers are retired quite out of sight, except here
and there one, who saunters about among six hundred or a
thousand of the labourers, but never touches the mortar either to
lift or carry it; one, in particular, places himself close to the
wall they are building.

67. This soldier will turn himself leisurely on all sides, and
every now and then, at intervals of a minute or two, lift up his
head, and with his forceps beat upon the building, and make the
vibrating noise before mentioned ; on which immediately a loud
hiss, which appears to come from all the labourers, issues from
within side the dome, and all the subterraneous caverns and
passages: that it does come from the labourers is very evident,
for you will see them all hasten at every such signal, redouble
their pace, and work as fast again.

68. As the most interesting experiments become dull by repe-

123

THE WHITE ANTS.

tition or continuance, so the uniformity with which this business
is carried on, though so very wonderful, at last satiates the mind.
A renewal of the attack, however, instantly changes the scene,
and gratifies our curiosity still more. At every stroke we hear a
loud hiss ; and on the first the labourers run into the many pipes
and galleries with which the building is perforated, which they
do so quickly that they seem to vanish, for in a few seconds all
are gone, and the soldiers rush out as numerous and as vindictive
as before. On finding no enemy they return again leisurely into
the hill, and very soon after the labourers appear loaded as at
first, as active and as sedulous, with soldiers here and there
among them, who act just in the same manner, one or other of
them giving the signal to hasten the business. Thus the pleasure
of seeing them come out to fight or to work alternately may be
obtained as often as curiosity excites or time permits; and it
will certainly be found, that the one order never attempts to
fight, or the other to work, let the emergency be ever so great.

69. We meet vast obstacles in examining the interior parts of
these tumuli. In the first place the works, for instance, the
apartments which surround the royal chamber and the nurseries,
and indeed the whole internal fabric, are moist, and consequently
the clay is very brittle; they have also so close a connection, that
they can only be seen as it were by piecemeal; for having a
kind of geometrical dependence or abutment against each other,
the breaking of one arch pulls down two or three. To these
obstacles must be added the obstinacy of the soldiers, who fight
to the very last, disputing every inch of ground so well as often
to drive away the negroes who are without shoes, and make
white people bleed plentifully through their stockings. Neither
can we let a building stand, so as to get a view of the interior
parts without interruption, for while the soldiers are defending
the outworks, the labourers keep barricading all the way against
us, stopping up the different galleries and passages, which lead
to the various apartments, particularly the royal chamber, all
the entrances to which they fill up so artfully as not to let it be
distinguishable, while it remains moist; and externally it has
no other appearance than that of a shapeless lump of clay. It is,
however, easily found from its situation with respect to the other
parts of the building, and by the crowds of labourers and soldiers
which surround it, who show their loyalty and fidelity by dying
under its walls, The royal chamber, in a large nest, is capacious
enough to hold many hundreds of the attendants, besides the
royal pair, and you always find it as full of them as it can hold.
These faithful subjects never abandon their charge, even in the

last distress, for whenever Mr. Smeathman took out the royal
124

THEIR LOYALTY.

chamber from one of the hills, as he often did, and preserved it
for some time in a large glass bowl, all the attendants continued
running in one direction round the king and queen with the
utmost solicitude, some of them stopping in every circuit at the
head of the latter, as if to give her something ; when they came to
the extremity of the abdomen, they took the eggs from her,
carrying them away, and piled them carefully together in some
part of the chamber, or in the bowl under, or behind any pieces
of broken clay, which lay most convenient for the purpose.

Some of these unhappy little creatures would ramble from the
chamber as if to explore the cause of such a horrid ruin and
catastrophe to their immense buildings, as it must appear to
them ; and after fruitless endeavours to get over the side of the
bowl, return and mix with the crowd that continued running
round their common parents to the last. Others, placing themselves
along her side, would get hold of the queen’s vast matrix with
their jaws, and pull with all their strength, so as visibly to lift
up the part which they fix at; but Mr. Smeathman who observed
this, was unable to determine whether this pulling was with an
intention to remove her body, or to stimulate her to move herself,
or for any other purpose. After many ineffectual tugs, they
would desist and join in the crowd running round, or assist some
of those who are cutting off clay from the external parts of the
chamber, or some of the fragments, and moistening it with the
juices of their bodies, to begin to work a thin arched shell over
the body of the queen, as if to exclude the air, or to hide her
from the observation of some enemy. These, if not interrupted,
before the next morning, completely cover her, leaving room
enough within for great numbers to run about her.

The king, being very small in proportion to the queen, generally
conceals himself under one side of her abdomen, except when he
goes up to the queen’s head, which he does now and then, but not
so frequently as the rest.

70. If in your attack on the hill you stop short of the royal
chamber, and cut down about half of the building, and leave
open some thousands of galleries and chambers, they will all be
shut up with thin sheets of clay before next morning. If even
the whole is pulled down, and the different buildings are thrown
in a confused heap of ruins, provided the king and queen are not
destroyed or taken away, every interstice between the ruins, at
which either cold or wet can possibly enter, will be so covered as
to exclude both; and, if the animals are left undisturbed, in
about a year they will raise the building to near its pristine size
and grandeur. :

71. The marching Termites are not less curious in their order

: 125

THE WHITE ANTS,

than those described before. This species seems much scarcer
and larger than the Termes bellicosus. They are little known to
the natives. Smeathman had an opportunity of observing them
by mere accident; one day, having made an excursion with his
gun up the river Camerankoes, on his return through the thick
forest, while he was sauntering very silently in hopes of finding
some sport, on a sudden he heard a loud hiss, which, on account
of the many serpents in these countries, is a most alarming
sound. The next step caused a repetition of the noise, which he
soon recognised, and was rather surprised, seeing no covered ways
or hills. The noise, however, led him a few paces from the path,
where, to his great astonishment and pleasure, he saw an army of
Termites coming out of a hole in the ground, which could not be
above four or five inches wide. They came out in vast numbers,
moving forward as fast seemingly as it was possible for them
to march. In less than a yard from this place they divided
into two streams or columns, composed chiefly of labourers,
twelve or fifteen abreast, and crowded as close after one another
as sheep in a drove, going straight forward, without deviating to
the right or the left. Among these, here and there, one of the
soldiers was to be seen, trudging along with them in the same
manner, neither stopping nor turning; and as he carried his
enormous large head with apparent difficulty, he appeared like a
very large ox amongst a flock of sheep. While these were
bustling along, a great many soldiers were to be seen spread
about on both sides of the two kines of march, some a foot or two
distant, standing still or sauntering about as if upon the look-out
lest some enemy should suddenly come upon the workers. But
the most extraordinary part of this march was the conduct of
some others of the soldiers, who, having mounted the plants
which grow thinly here and there in the thick shade, had placed
themselves upon the points of the leaves, which were elevated ten
or fifteen inches above the ground, and hung over the army
marching below. Every now and then one or other of them beat
with his forceps upon the leaf, and made the same sort of ticking
noise, which he had so frequently observed to be made by the
soldier who acts the part of surveyor or superintendent, when the
labourers are at work repairing a breach made in one of the
common hills of the Termites bellicost. This signal among the
marching white ants produced a similar effect ; for whenever it
was made, the whole army returned a hiss, and obeyed the signal
by increasing their pace with the utmost hurry. The soldiers
who had mounted aloft, and gave these signals, sat quite still
during the interval (except making now and then a slight turn
of the head), and seemed as solicitous to keep their posts as
126

THE MARCHING TERMITES,

regular sentinels, The two columns of the army joined into one
about twelve or fifteen paces from their separation, having in no
part been above three yards asunder, and then descended into the
earth by two or three holes. They continued marching by him
for above an hour that he stood admiring them, and seemed
neither to increase nor diminish their numbers, the soldiers only
excepted, who quitted the line of march, and placed themselves
at different distances on each side of the two columns; for they
appeared much more numerous before he quitted the spot. Not
expecting to see any change in their march, and being pinched
for time, the tide being nearly up, and his departure being fixed
at high-water, he quitted the scene with some regret, as the
observation of a day or two might have afforded him the oppor-
tunity of exploring the reason and necessity of their marching
with such expedition, as well as of discovering their chief settle-
ment, which is probably built in the same manner as the large
hills before described. If so, it may be larger and more curious,
as these insects were at least one-third larger than the other
species, and consequently their buildings must be more wonderful,
if possible ; thus much is certain, there must be some fixed place
for their king and queen, and the young ones. Of these species
he did not see the perfect insect,

In fine, although the curious and interesting habits and manners
which have been here described have been well ascertained
and accurately observed, naturalists are not yet agreed as to
the true physiological characters of the most numerous of the
classes composing these communities. That the two individuals
called the king and queen in the preceding pages, are perfect
insects, deprived of their wings, seems to be on all hands
admitted ; and that they are kept for the special purpose of pro-
pagation, and honoured as the common parents, is also certain.
But the true character of the multitude of workers and soldiers is
not so clear. Latreille inferred that the workers of Smeathman
consist of the larve and pup, which later pass into the perfect
state, assuming wings, and swarm in the manner already described ;
and that the soldiers are an order apart, which never assume the
perfect state, and are incapable of reproduction. To this,
Burmeister objects, that there is no instance in the whole animal
world in which the undeveloped young labour for the old; and
therefore doubts that the workers can be larve or pupe ; to which
may be added, that these so-called larve still retain their form
when the winged individuals appear. Huber also doubts that
the soldiers can be properly called neuters, and Kirby thinks they

127

THE WHITE ANTS.

are probably male larve. Westwood suggests that the soldiers
as well as the workers, remain wingless without changing their
form, their development stopping short before arriving at maturity,
and thereby some individuals acquire that enlarged head which
distinguishes the soldiers, and that the real larve of the com-
paratively few specimens which ultimately become winged, are as
yet unknown.

These vague and discordant conjectures of naturalists so
eminent, show how much still remains to be discovered of the
physiology of the White Ants.

128

FIG. 26. —THE PECARI, OR SOUTH AMERICAN HOG,

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

—e—-.

CHAPTER I.

1, Instinct defined. —2. Independent of experience or practice. —3.

Sometimes directed by appetite.—4. A simple faculty independent
of memory.—5. Instinctive distinguished from intelligent acts.—
6. Instinct and intelligence always co-exist.—7. The proportion of
instinct to intelligence increases as we descend in the organic chain.—
8. Opinions of Descartes and Buffon—Character of the dog.—9.
Researches and observations of Frederic Cuvier.—10. Causes of the
errors of Descartes, Buffon, Leroy, and Condillac—I11. Degrees of
intelligence observed in different orders of animals.—12. Accordance
of this with their cerebral development.—13. Opposition between
intelligence and instinct.—14. Consequences of defining their limits.—
15. Example of instinct in ducklings.—16. In the construction of
honeycomb.—17. The snares of the ant-lion.—18. Their mode of con-
struction and use.—19. Spiders’ nets.—20. Fishes catching insects. —
21. Provident economy of thesquirrel.—22. Haymaking by the Siberian
lagomys.—23. Habitations constructed by animals.—24. The house
of the hamster.—25. The habitation of the mygale, with its door.
—26. Habitations of caterpillars. —27. Clothing of the larva of the
moth.—28. Dwellings of animals which are torpid at certain seasons.
—29. The Alpine marmot—Curious structure of their habitations —
30. Method of constructing them. —31. Singular habits of these
animals.—32. Instincts of migration.—33. Irregular and occasional
migration.—34. General assembly preparatory to migration.—35.
Occasional migration of monkeys.

Larpyer’s Musgum oF Science. I 113

No. 96.

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

1. Iv contemplating the habits and manners of animals, numerous
acts are observed bearing marks of more intelligence and foresight
than it is possible to suppose such agents to exercise. Since
intelligence, therefore, cannot be admitted as the exciting cause
for such actions, they have been ascribed to another power,
called insTIncT, which is defined to be one by which, independent
of all instruction or experience, animals are unerringly directed to
do spontaneously whatever is necessary for their preservation and
the continuance of their species.

2. Instinct, therefore, must be regarded as a simple power or
disposition emanating directly from the Creator, and producing its
effects, without the intervention of any mental process. These
effects, moreover, are susceptible of no modification by experience
or repetition. A purely instinctive act is performed with as much
facility and perfection at the first attempt as after repetition, no
matter how long continued. The new-born infant seizes the
mother’s breast with its lips, draws the milk from it, and swallows
that nourishing fluid—a very complicated physical process—as
readily and as perfectly as it does after the daily experience and
practice of ten or twelve months. The young bee just emerged
from the cell, sets about the highly geometrical process of con-
structing its complicated hexagonal comb, and accomplishes its
work with as much facility and perfection as the oldest inhabitant
of the hive.

3. Instinct operates sometimes, but not invariably, by the
intervention of physical appetite. Thus animals seek food,
and the union of the sexes, not with the purposes which Nature
designs to attain by these acts, but for the mere pleasure
attending the gratification of appetite and passion. This
pleasure is the bait which the Creator throws out to allure them
to do what is indispensable for the preservation of the individual
and the continuance of the species.

Thus, although animals seek food to satisfy hunger, the act is
still instinctive. In the choice of food, that which is hurtful or
poisonous is avoided, and that which is nutritious selected. The
food which is suifable to the organs of digestion is always that to
which the animal directs itself. These organs in some are adapted
to vegetable, in others to animal food, and each species accordingly
seeks the one or the other. Since it cannot be imagined that these
animals are endowed with intelligence by which they are enabled
to judge of the qualities of this or that species of aliment, it is
clearly necessary to ascribe their acts in choosing always those
which are suitable to them, te a power different from and
independent of intelligence.

4. While instinct is a simple power, prompting acts apparently

114

INSTINCT DISTINGUISHED FROM INTELLIGENCE.

the most complicated, and producing its effects at once in the
most perfect manner and without any internal effort on the part
of the agent, intelligence, on the contrary, is a faculty consisting
of various distinct operations depending on experience and sus-
ceptible of indefinite improvement by exercise. The perceptions
received from external objects are the data upon which it is
exercised. These perceptions are capable of being revived and
identified by the faculty called memory. Thus, having once per-
ceived any given object, it is identified upon its recurrence by the
consciousness that the perception it produces is the same as that
which was formerly produced by it. Thus, objects once seen are
known when seen again.

Memory is essential to almost all other acts of intelligence, the
most simple of which is that by which the mind infers that any
effect which has been once produced will be again reproduced by
the same agent under like circumstances ; and the oftener such
effects are observed to be reproduced, the more strong is the
conviction that they will reappear.

5. Instinctive acts are done without any perception or con-
sciousness of their consequences on the part of the agent. Intel-
ligent acts, on the contrary, are performed not only with a
consciousness of their consequences, but because of that con-
sciousness. They are performed precisely with a view to produce
the effects which are known by previous experience to have
resulted from them.

6. It must not be supposed that instinct and intelligence can-
not coexist, or that the animal endowed with either is necessarily
deprived of the other. It is certain, on the contrary, that most
animals are more or less gifted with both. In man, constituting
the highest link in the chain of animal organisation, the faculty
of intelligence predominates in an immense proportion over that
of instinct. In passing to the next link, the relation between
these faculties undergoes a change so enormous, that naturalists
have regarded man not merely as a species of animal, but as an
order of organised beings apart, being the sole genus of his order
and the sole species of his genus.

7. In descending from link to link downwards along the chain
of animal organisation, the play of intelligence is observed to bear
a less and less proportion to that of instinct, until we arrive at the
last links, where all trace of intelligence is lost, and animal life
becomes a there system of phenomena produced by instinctive
impulses.

8. The question of the relative provinces and play of instinct
and intelligence in the animal world, has been agitated among
philosophers and naturalists from the earliest epochs down to our

12 115

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

own times. Descartes maintained that the inferior animals were
mere automata, but that being constructed by Nature, they are
incomparably more perfect than any which could be constructed
by man. Buffon allowed them sensations, arid a consciousness of
present existence, but denied them all exercise of thought, reflec-
tion, the consciousness of past existence or memory, and the
power of comparing their sensations or having ideas. Yet not-
withstanding this, in other parts of his works, he admits that a
power of memory, active, extensive, and retentive, cannot be
denied to certain species. Thus, in his history of the dog, he says
that an ardent, choleric, and even ferocious disposition, which
renders that animal in the wild state formidable to all around it,
gives place in the domestic dog to the most gentle sentiments, the
most lively attachments, and the strongest desire to please. The
dog, creeping to the feet of its master, places at his disposition its
courage, its force, and its talents. It waits his orders merely to
execute them ; it consults him, interrogates him, supplicates him,
understands the slightest signs of his wishes: has all the warmth
of sentiment which characterises man, without the light of his
reason; has more fidelity, more constancy; no ambition, no selfish
interest, no desire of vengeance, no fear save that of its master’s
displeasure. It is all zeal, all ardour, all obedience. More
sensible to the memory of kindness than of injury, it is not dis-
heartened by bad treatment. It submits and forgets, or remembers
only the more to attach itself. Far from being irritated by, or
flying from him who punishes it, it willingly exposes itself to new
trials. It licks the hand which strikes it, offers no remonstrance
save the expression of its pain, and disarms the hand which
punishes it by patience and submission. * ;

Thus while Buffon refuses thought to the dog, he admits that
he is capable of consulting, interrogating, and supplicating his
master, and understanding the signs of his will. But, how, it
may be asked, can a dog understand, without understanding ?
Without the faculty of memory, how can he remember kindness
and forget ill-treatment? Buffon, as M. Flourens justly observes,
admits as an historian, but he denies as a philosopher, and in
spite of his acute understanding, allows his judgment to be influ-
enced by the purpose to which the work on which he is engaged at
the moment is directed. As an historian, he has to state facts;
and he does so with truth and eloquence. Asa philosopher, he
has to defend a system; and he closes his eyes on all facts save
those which support his hypothesis.

9. During more than a century which elapsed between the

* “Histoire du Chien,” vol. 5, p. 196
116

DEGREES OF INTELLIGENCE,

epochs of Descartes and Buffon,* the question of the instinct and
intelligence of animals was discussed in the spirit of the ancient
philosophy on purely metaphysical grounds. It was with Buffon, and
soon afterwards with Leroy, that it began to be placed upon the basis
of observation and induction; but the first philosopher who reduced
it to a definite form and supported his reasoning by observations
systematically pursued was Frederick Cuvier. He proposed to de-
termine the limits of the intelligence of different species; those which
separate intelligence generally from instinct; and those in fine by
which human intelligence is distinguished from that of inferior
animals. These three points being once established, the long vexed
question of animal intelligence was presented under a new aspect.

10. When Descartes and Buffon refused intelligence to animals,
they did so because they could not accord to them the same
faculty of intelligence which characterises the human race. Their
error therefore arose from not perceiving or not defining the limit
which separates human from animal intelligence.

When Condillac and Leroy, on the contrary, falling into the
other extreme, accorded to animals the most elevated intellectual
powers, they did so because they overlooked the distinction
between instinct and intelligence. When they ascribed to intelli-
gence acts which were prompted by instinct, and therefore executed
with a perfection which, if they were the result of intelligence,
would require a very elevated degree of that faculty, they were
forced to admit in animals the possession of powers in some re-
spects even more elevated than those of the human race.

11. The first observations of Frederick Cuvier indicated the
various degrees of intelligence in the different orders of mammifers.
Thus he found the highest development of that faculty in the
Quadrumana, at the head of which stand the chimpanzee and
ourang-outang. The second rank was assigned to the Carnivora, at
the head of which was placed the dog. The Pachydermata stand
next, with the horse and the elephant at their head; the two
lowest ranks consisting of the Ruminants and Rodents.

12. Now it is important to remark that this classification of
mammifers according to their relative intelligence, based upon the
direct observation of their manners and habits, is found to be in
complete accordance with their cerebral development; the organs
of the brain, which in man have been ascertained as being those
on which the intellectual functions depend, existing in a less and
less state of development as we descend from the Quadrumana
to the Carnivora, from the latter to the Pachydermata, and from
these successively to the Ruminants and Rodents.

* Descartes published his ‘‘Discours sur la Méthode” in 1637; and

Buffon published the ‘‘ Discours sur la Nature des Animaux” in 1753.
117

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

The reader will find these conclusions verified by many of the
examples which will be presently produced, but those who desire
a more complete demonstration must have recourse to the numer-
ous and beautiful memoirs of Frederick Cuvier, in which the
original observations are recorded.

13, After having established the limits which distinguish the
degrees of intelligence of different orders of animals, Cuvier took
up the still more important question to fix the limit between
intelligence and instinct.

Between these powers there is the most complete opposition.
All the results of instinct are blind, necessary, and invariable.
All those of intelligence, on the contrary, are optional, conditional,
and susceptible of endless modification. The beaver, which
builds its hut, and the bird which constructs its nest, act by
instinct alone. The dog and the horse, which are educated so as to
understand the signification of several words uttered by those who
have charge of them, do so by the exercise of intelligence.

All the results of instinct are innate. The beaver builds its
hut without having learned todo so. It is urged by a constant
and irresistible force. It builds because it cannot help building.

All the results of intelligence arise from experience and in-
struction. The dog obeys his master, only because he has learned
todoso. He isa free agent, and obeys because he wills to obey.

In fine, the results of instinct are particular, while those of
intelligence are general. The industry and ingenuity which has
excited so much admiration in the beaver, is displayed in nothing
except the construction of his hut, while the same degree of
attention and thought, which enables the dog to obey his master
in one thing, will equally avail him to perform other acts.

14. So long as these two powers of instinct and intelligence
were undistinguished one from the other, the manners and habits
of animals presented to the contemplation of the observer endless
obscurity, and the most perplexing contradiction. While in
most actions the superiority of man over other animals is apparent,
in many the superiority seems to pass to the side of the brute.
This paradox and apparent contradiction disappears, however,
when the boundary between instinct and intelligence is clearly
marked. Whatever proceeds from intelligence in the lower
animals, is incomparably below that which results from the intel-
ligence of man; and on the contrary, all those acts of the lower
animals, which, supposing them to result from intelligence, would
require a higher degree of that faculty than man possesses, are
the mere effects of the blind mechanical power of instinct.*

* Flourens’ ‘‘ De l'Instinct et de I’Intelligence des Animaux,” p. 86,
118

HONEYCOMB—ANT-LION.

15. Asan example of an act manifestly instinctive, a fact familiar
to all who have visited a poultry-yard may be mentioned. When
a mixed brood of chickens and ducklings hatched by a hen
approach for the first time a pond of water, the ducklings preci-
pitate themselves into the liquid, in spite of the efforts of their
adopted mother to prevent them, and contrary to the example of
the chickens, with whom they have come into life and from whom
they have never been separated. The ducklings who do this may
have never before seen water or any individuals of their own
species, yet they use their webbed feet as propellers with as much
skill as the oldest and most experienced of their race.

16. An example of a much more complicated process, which is
manifestly instinctive, is presented by the labours of the bee
already mentioned. The comb is a highly geometrical structure,
which, if executed under the direction of intelligence, would
require not only faculties of a high order, but profound calculation
and much experience. Considered in relation to the purposes it
is destined to fulfil, it would require the greatest foresight and a
thorough knowledge of the whole course of life and organic
functions of the species to which the constructors belong. Sup-
posing them to be endowed with the necessary intelligence, the
combs could not be constructed without many prelimihary trials
and partial failures, the necessary perfection being only attainable
by slow degrees and by means of a series of experiments.
Nothing of the kind however takes place, the complicated struc-
ture being produced at once with the greatest facility and in the
highest perfection. There are, therefore, here none of the charac-
ters of a work directed by intelligence, but all the marks of one
prompted by instinct.

17. Although the acts by which animals obtain and select their
proper food are undoubtedly instinctive, they are, nevertheless,
often attended with circumstances which it would be difficult to
explain without the intervention of some degree of intelligence.

Fig. 2—Larva of
the Ant-Lion.

Fig. 1.—The Ant-Lion.

There is a little insect of the order Neuroptera and the family
119

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

Myrmeleonide, commonly called the ant-lion, represented in its
natural size in fig. 1, the larva of which is also represented in its
natural size in fig. 2. This larva feeds upon ants and other insects,
of which it sucks the juice ; but as its powers of locomotion are
ereatly inferior to those of its prey, it would perish for want of
nourishment, if Nature had not endowed it with instinctive
faculties by which it is enabled to capture by stratagem the
animals upon which it feeds.

18, After having carefully surveyed the ground upon which it
is about to operate, it commences by tracing a circle corresponding
in magnitude with its intended snare. Then placing itself within
this circle, and using one of its feet as a spade or shovel, it sets
about making an excavation with a tunnel-shaped mouth. It
throws upon its head the grains of sand which are digged up with
its feet, and by a jerk of its body it flings them to a distance of
some inches outside the circle which it has traced, throwing them
backwards by a sudden upward movement of the head. Pro-
ceeding in this way it moves backwards, following a spiral course,
continually approaching nearer to the centre. At length so much
of the sand is thrown out that a conical pit is formed, in the bottom
of which it conceals itself, its mandibles being the only parts which
it allows to appear above the surface. If in the course of its work
it happens to encounter a stone, the presence of which would
spoil the form of the pitfall, it first pays no attention to it, and
goes on with its labour. After having finished the excavation,
however, it returns to the stone, and uses every effort to detach it,
tu place it on its back and throw it out of the pit. If it do not
succeed it abandons the work, and departs in search of another
locality, where it recommences with admirable patience a similar
excavation.

These pitfalls, fig. 3, when completed, are generally about three
inches in diameter and
two in depth; and when
the slope of the sides has
been deranged, — which
almost always happens
when an insect falls into
it,—the ant-lion imme-
diately sets about repair-
gy ing the damage.

PR ea When an insect hap-

Fig. 3 —Pittal) of an Aut-Lion. pens to fall into the pit,
the ant-lion instantly

seizes it and puts it to death, and the fluids haying been all sucked

out, its dry carcass is treated exactly like the grains of sand, and
120

SPIDERS NESTS,

jerked out of the hole. If, however, as often happens, an insect
who has the misfortune to fall from the brink of the precipice
should recover itself, and escaping the murderous jaws of its enemy
regain the summit, the latter immediately begins to throw up
more sand, whereby not only is the hole made deeper, but its sides
are rendered more precipitous, and the flying insect is often hit
by the masses thus projected, and brought down again to the
bottom.

19. Certain spiders spread snares still more singular. The
web which these animals spread is destined to catch the flies
and other insects upon which they prey. The disposition of
the filaments composing this web varies with different species,
but is often of extreme elegance.

20. There are certain fishes which feed upon insects that are
not inhabitants of the water, and who resort to expedients, bearing
marks of great ingenuity, to capture their prey. Thus, a species
called the Archer, which inhabits the Ganges, feeds on insects
which are accustomed to light upon the leaves of aquatic plants,
The fish, upon seeing them, projects drops of water upon them
with such sure aim, that it seldom fails to make them fall from
the leaf into the water, when it seizes upon them. As the near
approach of the fish would alarm the insect and cause its flight,
this species of liquid projectile is usually launched from a distance
of several fect, where the insect cannot see its enemy.

21. Certain species feed upon natural products, which are only
to be found at particular
seasons of the year; and
in all such cases Nature
prompts them, during their
proper harvest, to collect
and store up such a quan-
tity of food as may be suffi-
cient for their support,
until the ensuing season
brings a fresh supply. The
common squirrel (fig. 4.)
presents an example of
this instinct. During the
summer these active little
creatures collect a mass of
nuts, acorns, almonds, and
other similar products, and
establish their storehouse
usually in the cavity of a
tree. They have the habit of providing several of these magazines

121

Fig. 4.—The Common Squirrel.

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

in different hiding-places cunningly selected; and in winter,
when the scarce season arrives, they never fail to find their
stores, even when they are overlaid with snow. It is remarkable
that this impulse to hide their food does not cease with the
necessity for it, for they take the same care of the residue uncon-
sumed upon the return of the ensuing season.

22, Another rodent, called by naturalists the Lagomys pica,
which bears a close resemblance to the common rabbit, and
inhabits Siberia, is endowed with an instinct still more remark-
able, since it not only collects in autumn the herbage necessary
for its sustenance during the long winter of that inhospitable
country, but it actually makes hay exactly as do our agricul-
turalists. Having cut the richest and most succulent herbs
of the field, it spreads them out to dry in the sun; and this
operation finished, it forms them into cocks or ricks, taking care
so to place them that they shall be in shelter from the rain and
snow. It then scts about excavating a tunnel leading from its
own hole to the bottom of these ricks, so that it may have a
subterranean communication between its dwelling and its hay-
yard ; taking care, moreover, that, the hay being gradually cut
from the interior of each stack, the protection provided by the
thatching of the external surface will not be disturbed.

23. Another form of that particular instinct the object of
which is the preservation of, the individual, is manifested in the
art, with which certain species construct for themselves a suitable
dwelling. In executing all the operations, often very complicated,
directed to this purpose, their labours are invariably marked by
the same general routine, although the operative by whom the
work is executed has never before witnessed a similar process,
and is aided by neither direction, plan, nor model.

We have already mentioned the structure of the honeycomb as
an example of this, but the insect world abounds with others not
less interesting.

The silkworm constructs for itself, with the delicate threads
which it spins, a cocoon, in which it encloses itself, to undergo in
safety its metamorphosis and to become a butterfly. The rabbit,
in like manner, burrows for itself u dwelling, and the beaver
constructs those little houses which have rendered it so celebrated,
We shall, on another occasion, return to architectural instinct, in
noticing the labours executed in common by animals which live
in societies.

24, The hamster (fig. 5) is a little animal of the class of rodents,
bearing a close resemblance to the common rat. It inhabits the
fields throughout Europe and Asia, and inflicts much injury on

the farmer and agriculturalist. This animal constructs for itself
122

HAMSTER AND MYGALE.

a subterranean house, consisting of several rooms connected to-
gether by corridors. The dwelling has two communications with
the surface, one con-
sisting of a vertical
shaft, by which the
animal makes its en-
trances and exits; the
other is an inclined
shaft, merely used for
the purposes of con-
struction, the animal
extruding through it
the earth excavated ;
in the formation of its habitation. One of the rooms is furnished,
as the bedroom of the owner, with a couch of clean, dry grass, and
is otherwise neatly kept. The others are used as store-rooms for
the winter stock of provisions, which are amassed there in
considerable quantities.

The form of the store-rooms is nearly spherical, and their dia-
meter from 8 to 10 inches.

The female, who never lodges with the male, usually provides
several of these vertical entrances to her habitation, with a view
to give easy means of entrance to her young, when they are
pursued by any enemy, and obliged precipitately to take refuge
in their dwelling.

The number of store-rooms which they provide being de-
termined by their stock of provisions, they are excavated in
succession, when one is filled the animal beginning to make
another.

The room which the female constructs as a nursery for her
young ones never includes provisions. She brings there straw
and hay to make beds for them. Two or three times a year she
has five or six younglings, which she nurses for about six weeks,
at which age she banishes them from her dwelling to provide for
themselves. The depth of the dwelling varies with the age of the
animal, the youngest making it at about the depth of a foot.
Each successive year the depth is increased, so that the vertical
shaft leading to the den of the old hamster often has a depth of
more than five feet, the whole habitation, including dwelling-
rooms, store-rooms, and communicating corridors, occupying a
space having a diameter of 10 or 12 feet.

25. Certain spiders, known to zoologists by the name of mygales,
execute works similar to those of the hamster, but much more
complicated, for not only do they construct a vast and commodious
habitation, but they place at its entrance a door, mounted upon

123

Fig. 5.—The Hamster.

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

hinges (fig. 6). For this purpose the animal excavates in the
ground a sort of cylindrical shaft three or four inches deep, and
coats its sides with a tenacious
plaster. It then fabricates a door,
by uniting alternately layers of
plaster and vegetable filaments.
‘This trap-door is made exactly to
fit the mouth of the shaft, to which
it is hinged by cementing some
projecting filaments against the
upper edge of the plastered surface.
‘The external surface of this trap-
door is rough, and in its general
appearance differs little from the
surrounding ground. The inside
surface, however, is smooth and
nicely finished. , On the side opposite to the hinge there is a row
of little holes, in which the animal introduces its claws to bolt
the door when any external enemy seeks to force it open.

26. It is, however, among the countless species of insects that
we find the most curious and interesting processes adopted for the
construction of habitations. Many species of caterpillars construct
houses by rolling up leaves and tying them together by threads
spun by the animal itself. In the gardens, nests of this kind are
everywhere to be seen, attached to the leaves of flowers and
bushes. It is in this way that the caterpillar of the nocturnal
butterfly, the Zortrix viridana, forms its nest (fig. 7).

27. Other insects construct habitations for themselves with the
filaments of woollen stuff, in which they gnaw holes. Among
these is the well-known larva
of the common moth, popularly
miscalled a worm, which is found
y to be so destructive to articles of
furniture and clothing. With
the woolly filaments which it
thus cuts from the cloth, the
caterpillar constructs a tube or
sheath, which it continually

‘ lengthens as it grows. When it
Fig. 7.—Nest of Tortrix Viridana. finds itself becoming too bulky
to be at ease in this dwelling, it cuts it open along the side, and
inserts a piece, by which its capacity is increased.

28. Certain animals, which pass the cold season in a state of
lethargy, not only prepare for themselves a suitable retreat, and

a soft and comfortable bed, but when they become sensible of the
124

Fig. 6.—Nest of the Mygale.

ALPINE MARMOT.

drowsiness which precedes the commencement of their periodical
sleep, they take care to stop up the door of their house, as if they
could foresee that a long interval must elapse before they shall
want to go out, and that the open door would not only
expose them to cold, but might give admission to dangerous
enemies.

29. The alpine marmots supply examples of these curious
manners.

Fig. 8.—Alpine Marmot.

These animals usually establish their dwellings upon the
face of steep‘acclivities, which look to the south or the east ; they
assemble in large numbers for the excavation of these dwellings
by their common labour. The form of their dens is that of the
letter Y placed on its side, thus +, the tail being horizontal, and
one of the two branches being inclined upwards, and the other
downwards. The cavity, which forms the tail of the Y, is the
dwelling-room. It is carpeted with moss and hay, of which the
animal makes an ample provision in summer. The upward
branch leads to the door of the dwelling, and supplies the means
of exit and entrance to the inhabitants. The descending
branch is used for the discharge of ordure, and all other
offal, the removal of which is necessary to the cleanliness of the
house.

30. Buffon says, that in the construction of these dwellings,
the animals observe a curious division of labour: some cut the
grass, others collect it in heaps, and others, lying on their backs
with their legs upwards, convert themselves into a sort of sledge,
upon which the grass is heaped by the others, being kept together
by the upright legs of the prostrate animal, just as hay is retained
upon a farm-cart by the poles fixed at its corners. The animal
lying thus is dragged by the tail by the others, to the mouth of
the dwelling in which the grass is deposited.

125

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

The latter part of this statement is however called in question
by some naturalists.

31. The marmots pass the greater part of their lives in these
dens. They remain there during the night and generally during
bad weather, coming out only on fine days, and even then not
departing far from their dwelling. While they are thus abroad
feeding and playing upon the grass, one of the troop, posted on a
neighbouring rock, is charged with the duty of a sentinel, observ-
ing carefully the surrounding country. If he should perceive
approaching danger, such as a hunter, a dog, or a bird of prey,
he immediately gives notice by a long continued whistling or
hissing noise, upon which the whole troop instantly rush to their
hole.

Fig 9.—The White-throated Sajou:

82. There is another instinct worthy of notice, the object of
which is always the preservation of the individual, and some-
times that of the species, which determines certain animals at
particular epochs to undertake long voyages. These movements.
of migratory animals, as they are called, are sometimes periodic,
being determined by the vicissitudes of the seasons, the animals.
being driven either from higher latitudes to lower by extreme
cold, or from lower to higher by extreme heat. In other cases
the migration is determined by the care of providing for its
young; the animal migrating to localities where the food for its
oftspring abounds, and whence after depositing its eggs it departs.

126

MIGRATIONS OF ANIMALS.

to places more conformable to its own habits and wants. Thus,
the migration to and fro fulfils at once the double purpose of
providing for the preservation of the species and that of the
individual.

33. Where the migration is irregular, and the voyage not
long, the movement is prompted by the necessity of seeking a
locality where the proper nourishment of the animal is more
abundant. In such cases, the animal having exhausted the
supplies of a particular district, departs in quest of another,
and does not voyage further than is necessary for that object.

Fig. 10,—The Maki.

34, Whatever be the motive which may prompt such voyages,
they are almost invariably preceded by a general meeting, having
all the appearance of a concerted one, composed of all the
individuals of the species which inhabit the locality where it
takes place. When the purpose of the voyage is change of
climate, they do not wait until they are driven forth by an undue

127

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

temperature, but anticipate this change by an interval more or
less considerable; nor do they, as might be supposed probable,
suffer themselves to be driven by degrees, from place to place, by
the gradually increasing inclemency of the season, It would
appear that they consider such a frequent change of habitation
incompatible with their well-being, and instead of a succession of
short voyages, they make at once a long one, which takes them
into a climate from which they will not have occasion to remove
until the arrival of the opposite season.

35. The monkeys, which abound in such vast numbers in the
forests of South America, present an example of irregular migration.
When they have devastated a district, they are seen in numerous
bands bounding from branch to branch, in quest of another
locality more abundant in the fruits which nourish them; and
after the lapse of another interval, they are again seen in motion,
the mothers carrying the young upon their backs and in their
arms, and the whole troop giving itself up to the most noisy
demonstrations of joy.

Fra. 19.—NrsT oF THE GOLDFINCH.

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

CHAPTER IT.

36. Migration of the lemmings.—37. Vast migration of field-mice cf
Kamtschatka.—38. Instincts conservative of species stronger than
those conservative of individuals.—39, 40. Instincts of insects for the
preservation of their posthumous offspring.—41. 42, Transformations
of insects—Precautions in the depositions of eggs.—43. Habitation
constructed by liparis chrysorrhea for its young.—44. Examples men-
tioned by Reaumur and Degeer.—45. Expedients for the exclusion of
light from the young.—46. Mxample of the common white buttertly.
—47. Manceuvres of the gadfly to get its eggs into the horse’s
stomach.—48, The ichneumon.—49. Its use in preventing the undue
multiplication of certain species. —50. Its form and habits —51. The
nourishment of its larve.—52. The sexton beetle.—53. Their pro-
cesses in burying carcasses. — 54. Anecdote of them related by
Strauss.—55. Singular anecdote of the gymnopleurus pilularius.—
56. Such acts indicate reasoning.—57. Anecdote of a sphex told by
Darwin.—58. Indications of intelligence in this case.—59. Anecdote
of a sexton beetle related by Gleditsch.—60. Indications of reason in
this case.—61. Anecdote of ants related by Reaumur.—62. Anecdote
of ants related by Dr. Franklin.—63, Anecdote of the bee related by
Mr. Wailes. — 64. Anecdote of the humble bee by Huber. — 6v,

Larpver’s Museum oF Sorence. K 129
No. 99.

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

Memory of insects.—66. Recognition of home by the bee.—67. Singular
conduct of the queen.—68. Rogers’s lines on this subject.—69. Error
of the poet.—70, Anecdote of bees by Mr. Stickney.—71. Instinct of
the pompilides.—72. The carpenter bee.

36. InnEGuLAR migrations, which are supposed to be in general
determined by an instinctive presentiment of an approaching
inclement season, are undertaken by small animals called
lemmings, which have a close analogy to rats, and which inhabit

Fig. 11.—The Lemminxg.

the mountainous districts of Norway and the Frozen Ocean. These
animals live in burrows, in which, like other similar species, they
excavate rooms sufliciently spacious, in which they bring up their
family. Their food consists in summer of herbs, and in winter of
lichens, They lay up no store, however, and collect their supplies
from day to day. By an inexplicable instinct, they have a fore-
knowledge of a rigorous winter, during which the frozen ground
would not allow them to collect their food in the country they
inhabit. In such case, they emigrate in immense numbers, going
to more favoured climates. This surprising presentiment of the
character of the season has been frequently observed in this
species. It was especially noticed in 1742. During that winter
the season was one of extraordinary severity in the province of
Umea, though much more mild in that of Lula, of which never-
theless the latitude is higher. It was remarked, on this occasion,
that the lemmings emigrated from the former province, but not
from the latter.

On the occasions of such emigrations, countless numbers of
troops of these animals, sometimes descending from the mountains,
advance in close columns, always maintaining one direction, from
which they never allow themselves to be turned by any obstacle,
swimming across rivers wherever they encounter them, and
skirting the rocks wherever they cannot climb over them. It is
more especially during the night that these legions continue their

march, reposing and feeding more generally during the day.
130

FIELD-MICE OF KAMTSCHATKA.

Although great numbers perish during the voyage, they never-
theless do immense damage to the districts over which they pass,
destroying all the vegetation which lies in their way, and even
turning up the ground, and consuming the fresh sown seed.
Happily for the Lapland and Norwegian farmers, the visits of
these animals are rare, seldom occurring more than once in ten
years. '

37. Such migrations, however, are much more frequently
periodical, being determined, as already stated, by the change of
seasons. Thus, it is found that in spring, immense legions of a
little field-mouse, which inhabits Kamtschatka, depart from that
country and direct their course towards the west. These animals,
like the lemmings, proceeding constantly in one direction,
travel for hundreds of leagues, and are so numerous that even
after a journey of twenty-five degrees of longitude, in which a
cousiderable proportion of their entire number must be lost, a
single column often takes more than two hours to pass a given
point. In the month of October they return to Kamtschatka,
where their arrival constitutes a féte among the hunters, as they
never fail to bring in their train a vast number of carnivorous
animals, which supply furs in abundance to the inhabitants of
these regions. :

38. Nature seems even more sedulous for the preservation of
the species than for that of the individual, and we find accord-
ingly the instincts which are directed to the former purpose
more strongly developed even than those of self-preservation.
The animal world presents innumerable examples of this in the
measures which nearly all species adopt with a view to the care
of their young. The bird continues often for weeks to sacrifice
all her own pleasures, and sits upon her eggs almost immovably.
Before these eggs are laid she constructs with infinite labour and
art a place in which she may with safety deposit them, and
where the young which are destined to issue from them may be
sheltered, protected, and fed by her until they have attained the
growth and strength necessary to enable them to provide food and
shelter for themselves.

39. The same instinct is manifested in a still more striking
manner by insects. Many of these die immediately after they
have laid their eggs, and consequently do not survive to see their
young, of whose condition and wants therefore they can have no
knowledge whatever by observation or experience. Their bene-
ficent Maker has, however, taught them to provide as effectually
for the security and well-being of their posthumous offspring, as
if they had the most complete knowledge of their condition and
wants. The effects of this instinct are so much the more remark-

5K 2 181

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE,

able, as in many cases the young in their primitive state of larva
inhabit an element and are nourished by substances totally
different from those which are proper to their parent.

The instinct which guides certain animals to confer upon their
young a sort of education, developing faculties and phenomena
having a close analogy to those manifested in the conduct and
operations of our own minds, never fails to excite as much astonish-
ment as admiration, and teaches, more eloquently than words,
how much above all that man can imagine or conceive, that power
must be which has created so many wonders.

40. But the acts which manifest in the most striking manner
the play of the instinctive faculty, are those already referred
to by which insects, in the deposition of their eggs, adopt such
precautions as are best calculated for the preservation of the
young, which are destined to issue from these eggs when the pro-
vident mother is no more.

41. To comprehend fully this class of acts, it will be necessary
to remind the reader that insects in general, before they attain
their perfect state, pass through two preliminary stages, in which
their habits, characters, and wants are totally different from those
of the parent. The first stages into which the animal passes in
emerging from the egg, is that of the Jarva, or grub; and the
second, that of the nymph, or pupa.

Not only is the form and external organisation of the larva
different from that of the insect into which it is destined to be
ultimately transformed, but it is generally nourished by a differ-
ent species of food, and often lives in a different element. Thus,
while the perfect insect feeds upon vegetable juices, its larva is
often voraciously carnivorous. While the perfect insect lives
chiefly on the wing in the open air, the larva is sometimes aquatic,
sometimes dwells on the hairs, or in the integuments, or even in
the stomach or intestines of certain animals. The insect, there-~
fore, cannot be imagined to know, from any experience, what will
be the natural wants of the young which are destined to emerge
from her eggs.

In many cases, any such knowledge on her part is still more
inconceivable, inasmuch as the mother dies before her young
break the shell. Nevertheless, in all cases, this mother, in
the deposition of her eggs, is found to adopt all the measures
which the most tender and provident solicitude for her young can
suggest. If her young, for example, are aquatic, she deposits her
eggs near the surface of water. If they are destined to feed upon
the flesh or juices of any species of animal, she lays not only upon
the particular animal in question, but precisely at those parts
where the young shall be sure to find their proper nourishment.

132

METAMORPHOSES.

Tf they are destined to feed upon vegetable substances, she deposits
her eggs on the particular vegetables, and the particular parts of
these vegetables which suit them. Thus, some insects lay their
eggs upon the leaves of a certain tree, others in the bark of wood.
Others again deposit them in the grain or seed of certain plants,
and others in the kernel of certain fruits; each and all selecting
precisely that which will afford suitable food to the larva when it
breaks the shell.

42. But the care of the tender mother does Abe terminate here.
As though she were aware that she will not herself be present to
protect her offspring from the numerous enemies which will be
ready to attack and devour it, she adopts the most ingenious
expedients for its protection. With this view she envelops her
eggs in coverings, which effectually conceal them from the view of
the enemies to whose attack they would be exposed. In case the
young should be susceptible of injury from the inclemency of the
atmosphere, she wraps up the eggs in warm clothing, in which the
young larva finds itself when it emerges from them.

43. Some species, such, for example, as the Liparis Chrysorrhea,
envelop their eggs in a waterproot covering made of fur taken
from their own bodies. They begin by forming with it a soft bed
upon the surface of a branch, upon which they deposit several
layers of eggs, which they then surround with more fur ; and when
all are laid, they cover them up with the same fur, the filaments
of which, however, are differently disposed. The hairs which
form the inside of the nest are arranged without much order, but,
on the contrary, those which form its external covering are art-
fully arranged like the slates of a house, in such a manner that
the rain which falls on them must glide off. When the mother
has finished her work, which occupies her from twenty-four to
forty-eight hours, her body, which before was invested with a
clothing of rich velvet, is now altogether stripped, and she expires.

The females who thus provide for the protection of their young,
often have the extremity of their bodies furnished with a great
quantity of fur destined for this use.

44, Reaumur found one day a nest of this kind, but still more
remarkable in its structure. The eggs were placed spirally round
a branch, and covered with a thick and soft down, each hair of
which was horizontal, which he described as resembling a fox’s
tail.

Degeer observed a proceeding, similar to those described above,
with certain species of aphides, which cover their eggs with a
eotton-like down, stripped from their own bodies by means of their
hind-feet ; but in this case the eggs were not enclosed in a common
bed, but each in a separate covering.

133

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

45. These precautions seem to be intended not only to protect
the eggs from wet and cold, but also to shade them from too
strong a light, which would be fatal to the young they contain.
It-is doubtless for the same purpose that so many insects attach
their eggs to the lower in preference to the upper surface of leaves,
those which are placed on the upper surface being generally more
or less opaque.*

46, The common’ white butterfly feeds upon the honey taken
from the nectary of a flower, but her larva, less delicate and more
voracious, devours the leaves of cabbage-plants. When we see,
therefore, this insect flying about and alighting successively upon
various plants, we imagine erroneously that she is in quest of her
own food, when in reality she is searching for the plant whose
leaves will form the proper nourishment for her future offspring.
Having found this, and having carefully ascertained that it has
not been pre-occupied by another of her species, she lays her eggs
upon it and dies.

47, The young of the Gadily (@strus Equt) are destined to live
in the stomach of a horse. This being stated, it may well be
asked how the insect fulfils that duty already described, which
consists in depositing the eggs upon the very spot where the young
will find their food ; for it can scarcely be imagined that the winged
insect will fly down a horse’s throat to lay in its stomach. Yet
the parent accomplishes its object in a manner truly remarkable.
Flying round the animal, she lights successively many times upon
its coat, depositing several hundreds of her little eggs at the extre-
mity of the hairs, to which she glues them by a liquid cement
secreted in her body. This, however, would obviously fail to
accomplish the purpose of supplying the young with their proper
food, only to be found in the horse’s stomach, to which, therefore,
it is indispensable that the eggs should be transferred. Marvel-
lous to relate, this transfer is made by the horse himself, who,
licking the parts of his hide to which the eggs are attached, takes
them, or the grubs evolved from them, if they have been already
hatched, upon his tongue, and swallows them mixed with saliva ;
thus conveying. them to the only place where they can find their
proper food !

But it may be objected, that by this process no eggs or grubs
would find their way to the stomach, save those which might
chance to be deposited upon those particular parts of the horse’s
body which it is accustomed to lick. There is, however, no
chance in the affair; for the insect, guided by an unerring and
beneficent power, and as if foreseeing the inevitable loss of such of

* Lacordaire, Int. Ent., voli., p. 29.
134

ICHNEUMON,.

her young as might be deposited elsewhere, takes care to lay her
eggs on those spots only, such as the knees and shoulders, which
the horse is sure to lick!

48. Ichneumon was a name given to a certain species of
quadrupeds, which were erroneously supposed to deposit their
young upon the bodies of crocodiles, the entrails of which they
gradually devoured. The name was transferred by Linnzeus to a
vast tribe of insects, whose young are destined to feed upon the
living bodies of other insects, on which accordingly the mother
deposits hereggs. The ichneumons were called by some naturalists
Musce vibrantes, from the constant vibration of their antenne, by
which they were supposed, in some unknown manner, to acquire a
knowledge of the insects which would be fit food for their young.
This supposition is, however, clearly erroneous, inasmuch as many
species do not manifest this vibratory motion.

49. The ichneumons are agents of vast importance in the
economy of nature, by checking the too rapid increase of certain
species, such as the caterpillars of butterflies and moths, of which
they destroy vast numbers. The purpose of nature in this is un-
mistakeably manifested by the fact, that the ichneumons increase
in proportion to the increase of the species they are destined to
destroy. Thus Nature maintains the equilibrium in the organic
world as much by the operation of the destructive, as by that of
the reproductive principle.

50. The ichneumon is a four-winged fly (fig. 12), which takes
no other food than honey ; and the great object of the female is to
discover a proper nidus for her eggs.
In search of this she is in constant
motion. Is the caterpillar of a but-
terfly or moth the appropriate food
for her young? Yow sce her alight
upon the plants where they are most
usually to be met with, run quickly
overthem, carefully examining every
leaf, and having found the unfor-
tunate object of her search, inserts
her sting into its flesh, and there
deposits an egg. In vain her victim,
as if conscious of its fate, writhes its body, spits out an acid fluid,
menaces with its tentacula, or brings into action the other organs
of defence with which it is provided, The active ichneumon
braves every danger, and does not desist until her courage and
address have insured subsistence for one of her future progeny.
Perhaps, however, she discovers, by a sense, the existence of

which we perceive, though we have no conception of its nature,
135

Fig. 12.—The Ichnewmcn.

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

that she has been forestalled by some precursor of her own tribe,
that has already buried an egg in the caterpillar she is examining.
In this case she leaves it, aware that it would not suffice for the
support of two, and proceeds in search of some other yet unoc-
cupied. The process is, of course, varied in the case of those
minute species, of which several, sometimes as many as 150, can
subsist on a single caterpillar. The ichneumon then repeats
her operation, until she has darted into her victim the requisite
number of eggs.

51. The larvie hatched from the eggs thus ingeniously deposited,
find a delicious banquet in the body of the caterpillar, which is
sure eventually to fall a victim to their ravages. So accurately,
however, is the supply of food proportioned to the demand, that
this event does not take place until the young ichneumons have
attained their full growth, when the caterpillar either dies, or,
retaining just vitality enough to assume the pupa state, then
finishes its existence; the pupa disclosing not a moth or a
butterfly, but one or more full-grown ichneumons.

In this strange and apparently cruel operation one circumstance
is truly remarkable. The larva of the ichneumon, though every
day, perhaps for months, it gnaws the inside of the caterpillar,
and though at last it has devoured almost every part of it except
the skin and intestines, carefully all this time avoids injuring the
vital organs, as if aware that its own existence depends on that of
the insect on which it preys! Thus the caterpillar continues to
eat, to digest, and to move, apparently little injured, to the last,
and only perishes when the parasitic grub within it no longer
requires its aid. What would be the impression which a similar
instance amongst the race of quadrupeds
would make upon us? If, for example,
an animal—such as some impostors have
pretended to carry within them—should be
found to feed upon the inside of a dog,
devouring ouly those parts not essential
to life, while it cautiously left uninjured
the heart, arteries, lungs, and intestines,
should we not regard such an instance
as a perfect prodigy, as an example of in-
stinctive forbearance almost miraculous ?*

Fig. 13.—The Sexton-
a sos 52. The sexton-beetle, or Necrophorus

(fig. 13), when about to deposit its eggs,
takes care to bury with them the carcass of a mole or some
other small quadruped; so that the young, which, like the

* Kirby, Int., vol. i, p. 288.
136

SEXTON BEETLE.

parent, feed upon carrion, the moment they come into existence,
may have an abundant provision of nourishment.

53. The measures which these insects take to obtain and keep
the carcasses upon which they feed, and which, as has been just
observed, also constitute the food of their offspring, are very
remarkable. No sooner is the carcass of any small dead animal
discovered, such as a bird, a mole, or a mouse, than the sexton-
deetles make their appearance around it to the number generally of
five or six. They first carefully inspect it on every side, apparently

®ig. 14.—The Neerophorus Hydrophilus. Fig. 15.—The Marine Necrophorus.

for the purpose of ascertaining its dimensions, its position, and the
nature of the ground on which it reposes. They then proceed to
make an excavation under it, to accomplish which some partially
raise the body, while others excavate the earth under the part
thus elevated ; the operation being performed with the fore legs.
By the continuance of this process, going round the body, they
gradually make a grave under it, into which it sinks; and so
rapid is the process of excavation, that in a few hours the body is
deposited in a hole ten or twelve inches deep. The males
co-operate in this labour, and after it is accomplished, the female
deposits her eggs upon the carcass.

54, Clarville* relates that he had seen one of these insects who
desired thus to bury a dead mouse, but finding the ground upon
which the carcass lay too hard to admit of excavation, it sought
the nearest place where the soil was sufliciently loose for that
purpose, and having made a grave of the necessary magnitude
and depth, it returned to the carcase of the mouse, which it
endeavoured to push towards the excavation; but finding its
strength insufficient and its efforts fruitless, it lew away. After
some time it returned accompanied by four other beetles, who
assisted it in rolling the mouse to the grave prepared for it.

* Cited by Strauss, Considérations Générales, p. 389.
: 137

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

55. Asimilar anecdote is related of a sub-genus of the Lamelli-
cornes, called the Gymnopleurus pilularius, an insect which
deposits its eggs in little balls of dung. One of these having
formed such a ball, was rolling it to a convenient place, when it
fell into a hole. After many fruitless efforts to get it out, the
insect ran to an adjacent heap of dung, where several of its fellows
were assembled, three of whom it persuaded to accompany it to
the place of the accident. The four uniting their efforts, succeeded
in raising the ball from the hole, and the three friends returned to
their dunghill to continue their labours.”

56. It is difficult, if indeed it be possible, to explain acts like
these by mere instinct, without the admission of at least some
degree of the reasoning faculty, and some mode of intercommuni-
cation serving the purpose of language. If such acts were com-
taon to the whole species and of frequent recurrence, it might be
possible to conceive them the results of the blind impulses of
instinct; but being exceptional, and the results of individual
accident, they are deprived of all the characters with which by
common consent instinct is invested. On the contrary, there are
many circumstances connected with this, which indicate a sur-
prising degree of reason and reflection. Thus, when the insect
goes to seek for assistance, it does not bring back, as it might do,
trom the swarm engaged on the dunghill, an unnecessary number
of assistants. It appears to have ascertained by its own fruitless
efforts how many of its fellows would be sufficient to raise the
dung-ball. ‘To so many and no more it imparts its distress and
communicates its wishes; and how can it accomplish this unless
we admit the existence of some species of signs, by which these
creatures communicate one with another ?

57. Darwin relates, that walking one day in his garden, he per-
ceived upon one of the walks a sphex, which had just seized a fly
almost as large as itself. Being unable to carry off the body
whole, it cut off with its mandibles the head and the abdomen,
only retaining the trunk, to which the wings were attached. With
these it flew away; but the wind acting upon the wings of the fly,
caused the sphex which bore it to be whirled round, and obstructed.
its flight. Thereupon the sphex again alighted upon the walk,
and deliberately cut off first one wing and then the other, and
then resumed its flight, carrying off its prey-

58. The’signs of intelligence as distinguished from instinct are
here unequivocal. Instinct might have impelled the sphex to cut
off the wings of the fly before attempting to carry it to its nest,
supposing the wings not to be its proper food; and if the head

* Tiliger’s Entomological Magazine, vol.i., p. 488.
133

ANECDOTES OF INSECTS.

and abdomen of all flics captured and killed by the sphex were
cut off, the act might be explained by instinct. But when the
fly is small enough to allow the sphex to carry it pff whole, it
does so, and it is only when it is too bulky and heavy that the ends
of the body are cut off, for the obvious purpose of lightening the
load. With respect to the wings, the detaching them was an after-
thonght, and a measure not contemplated until the inconvenience
produced by their presence was felt. But here a most singular
effort of a faculty to which we can give no other name than that
of reason, was manifested. The progress of the sphex through
the air was obstructed by the resistance produced by the wings of
the fly which it carried. How is it conceivable that upon finding
this, and not before, the sphex should suspend its progress, lay
down its load, and cut off the wings which produced this resist-
ance, if it did not possess some faculty by which it was enabled
to connect the wings in particular, rather than any other part of
the mutilated body of the fly, with the resistance which it encoun-
tered, in the relation of cause and effect? To such a faculty I
know no other name that can be given than that of reason,
although I readily admit the difficulty of ascribing such an
intellectual effurt.

59. Gleditsch* relates that one of his friends desiring to dry
the body of a toad, stuck it upon the end of a stick planted in
the ground, to prevent it from being carried away by the
sexton-beetle, which abounded in the place. This, however,
was unavailing. The beetles having assembled round the stick,
surveyed the object: and tried the ground, deliberately applied
themselves to make an excavation around the stick; and hav-
ing undermined it, soon brought it to the ground, after which
they not only buricd the carcase of the toad, but also the stick
itself.

60. Now this proceeding indicates a curious combination of
circumstances which it appears impossible to explain without.
admitting the beetles to possess considerable reasoning power and
even foresight. The expedient of undermining the stick can only
be explained by their knowledge that it was supported in its
upright position by the resistance of the earth in contact with it.
They must have known, therefore, that by removing this support,
the stick, and with it the toad, would fall. This being accom-
plished, it may be admitted that instinct would impel them to
bury the toad, but assuredly no instinct could be imagined to
compel them to bury the stick; an act which could be prompted
by no conceivable motive except that of concealing from those

* Phys. Bot, Gicon. Abhand., vol. iii., 220.
139

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

who might attempt to save the body of the toad from the attacks
of the beetles, the place where it was deposited.

61. Among the innumerable proofs tnat animals are capable of
comparing, dnd to a certain extent generalising their ideas, so as
to deduce from them at least their more immediate consequences,
and thereby to use experience as a guide of conduct, instead of
instinct, Reaumur * mentions the case of ants, which being
established near u bee-hive, fond as they are of honey, never
attempt to approach it so long as it is inhabited; but if they
happen to be near a deserted hive, they eagerly rush into it, and
devour all the honey which remains there. How can we account
for this abstinence from the inhabited hive, in spite of the strong
appetite for its contents, so plainly manifested in the case of the
empty one, if not by the knowledge that on some former occasion
arash attack upon an inhabited hive was visited by some ter-
rific vengeance on the part of the bees?

62. Dr. Franklin was of opinion that ants could communicate
their ideas to each other; in proof of which he related to Kalm,
the Swedish traveller, the following fact. Having placed a pot
containing treacle in a closet infested with ants, these insects
found their way into it, and were feasting very heartily when he
discovered them. He then shook them out, and suspended the
pot by astring from the ceiling. By chance one ant remained,
which, after eating its fill, with some difficulty found its way up
the string, and thence reaching the ceiling, escaped by the wall
to its nest. In less than half an hour a great company of ants
sallied out of their holes, climbed the wall, passed along ceiling,
crept along the string into the pot, and began to cat again. This
they continued to do until the treacle was all consumed, one swarm
running up the string while another passed down. It seems indis-
putable that the one ant had in this instance conveyed news of the
booty to his comrades, who would not otherwise have at once
directed their steps in a body to the only accessible route.+

63. A similar example of knowledge gained by experience, in
the case of the hive-bee, is related by Mr. Wailes.t He observed
that all the bees, on their first visit to the blossoms of a passion-
tlower (Passiflora cerulea) on the wall of his house, were for a
considerable time puzzled by the numerous overwrapping rays of
the nectary, and only after many trials, sometimes lasting two or
three minutes, succeeded in finding the shortest way to the honey
at the bottom of the calyx; but experience having taught them

* Mémoires, vol. v., p. 709.

+ Kirby and Spence, vol. ii., p. 422.

+ Entomological Magazine, vol. i, p. 525,
140

ANECDOTES OF ANTS AND BEES.

this knowledge, they afterwards constantly proceeded at once to
the most direct mode of obtaining the honey; so that he could
always distinguish bees that had been old visitors of the flowers
from new ones, the latter being at a loss how to procecd,
while the former flew at once to their ohject.

Fig. 16.—The Humble Bee.

64. A similar fact is related of the humble bees by Huber,”
who, when their bodies are too large to enter the corolla of a
flower, cut a hole at its base with their mandibles, through which
they insert the proboscis to extract the honey. If these insects
adopted this expedient from the first, and invariably followed it,
the act might be ascribed to instinct ; but as they have recourse to
it only after having vainly tried to introduce their body in the
usual way into the opening of the corolla, it can scarcely be
denied that they are guided by intelligence in the attainment of
their end. The marks of experience, memory, and comparison,
are unequivocal. When they find their efforts to enter the first
flower to which they address themselves fruitless, they do not
repeat them upon other flowers of the same sort, but directly
attack the base of the corolla. Huber witnessed such pro-
ceedings repeatedly in the:case of bean-blossoms.

65. Insects give proofs without number of the possession of the
faculty of memory, without which it would be impossible to turn
to account the results of experience. Thus, for example, each
bee, on returning from its excursions, never fails to recognise its
own hive, even though that hive should be surrounded by various
others in all respects similar to it.

66. This recognition of home is so much the more marked by
traces of intelligence rather than by those of instinct, inasmuch
as it depends not on any character merely connected with the

* Philosophical Transactions, vol. vi., p. 222.
141

“

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

hive itself, whether external or internal, but from its relation to
surrounding objects ; just as we are guided to our own dwellings
by the recollection of the particular features of the locality and
neighbourhood. Nor is this faculty in the bee inferred from mere
analogies; it has been established by direct experiment and
observation. A hive being removed from a locality to which its
inhabitants have become familiar, they are observed, upon the
next day, before leaving for their usual labours, to fly around the
hive in every direction, as if to observe the surrounding objects,
and obtain a general acquaintance with their new neighbourhood.

67. The queen in like manner adopts the same precaution
before she rises into the air, attended by her numerous admirers,
for the purposes of fecundation.

68. This curious example of the memory of bees is beautifully
noticed by Rogers, in his poem on that faculty.

“© Hark ! the bee winds her small but mellow horn,
Blithe to salute the sunny smile of morn.
O’er thymy downs she bends her busy course,
And many a stream allures her to its source.
Tis noon, ’tis night. That eye so finely wrought,
Beyond the search of sense, the soar of thought,
Now vainly asks the scenes she left behind ;
Its orb so full, its vision so confined !
Who guides the patient pilgrim to her cell ?
Who bids her soul with conscious triumph swell ?
With conscious truth retrace the mazy clue
Of varied scents that charmed her as she flew ?
Hail, Mexonry, hail! thy universal reign
Guards the least link of Being’s glorious chain.”

69. The poet, however, has fallen into an error, as often happens
when poets derive their illustrations from physical science. The
bee is not reconducted to its habitation by retracing the scents of
the flowers it has visited; for, if it were, it is obvious that in
returning it would necessarily follow the zig-zag and tortuous
course from flower to flower which it had followed during the pro-
gress of its labours in collecting the swects with which it is
loaded ; whereas, on the contrary, in its return, no matter what
be the distance, it flies in a direct line to its hive.

70. Kirby mentions the following curious fact illustrating the
memory of bees, which was communicated to him by Mr. William
Stickney, of Ridgemont, Holderness.

About twenty years ago, a swarm from one of this gentleman’s
hives took possession of an opening beneath the tiles of his house,
whence, after remaining a few hours, they were dislodged and
hived. For many subsequent years, when the hives descended

from this stock were about to swarm, a considerable party of
142

CARPENTER BEE,

scouts were observed for a few days before to be reconnoitring
about the old hole under the tiles; and Mr. Stickney is persuaded
that if suffered they would have established themselves there.
He is certain that for eight years successively the descendants of
the very stock that first took possession of the hole frequented it,
as above stated, and not those of any other swarm ; having con-
stantly noticed them, and ascertained that they were bees from
the original hive, by powdering them while about the tiles with
yellow ochre, and watching their return. And even later
there were still seen, every swarming season, about the tiles,
bees which Mr. Stickney has no doubt were descendants from the
original stock.

71. Among the instincts manifested by insects, there is none
more remarkable or more admirable than that already mentioned,
by which certain species provide a store of food for their young,
which differs totally from their own aliment, and which they
would themselves regard with disgust. The pompilides, a
species resembling wasps, are endowed with this faculty. Tho
insect in its adult state feeds, like the bee, upon floral juices. But
its young, in the infant state of larva, is carnivorous. The
provident mother, therefore, when she deposits her eggs, never
fails to place beside each of them in the nest, in a place
prepared to receive it, the carcase of a spider or of some cater-
pillar, which she has slain with her sting for that express
purpose.

72. The carpenter bee presents another example of this remark-
able instinct, boring with incredible labour in solid wood a
habitation which, though altogether unsuitable to itself, is
adapted with the most admirable fitness for its young. Among
these, one of the most remark-
able is the Xylocopa violacea,
fig. 17, a large species,* a
native of middle and southern
Europe, distinguished by beau-
tiful wings of a deep violet
colour, and found commonly
in gardens, where she makes
her nest in the upright pu- 2
trescent espaliers or vine- Fig. 17.—The Carpenter Bee.
props, and occasionally in the ae
garden-seats, doors, and window-shutters. In the beginning of
spring, after repeated and careful surveys, she fixes upon a piece
of wood suitable for her purpose, and with her strong mandibles

* Kirby, vol. i., p. 369,
143

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

begins the process of boring. First proceeding obliquely down-
wards, she soon points her course in a direction parallel with the
sides of the wood, and at length,
with unwearied exertion, forms a
cylindrical hole or tunnel, not less
than twelve or fifteen inches long
and half an inch broad. Some-
times, where the diameter will
adinit of it, three or four of these
pipes, nearly parallel with each
other, are bored in the same piece.
Herculean as this task, which
is the labour of several days,
appears, it is but u small part of
what our industrious bee cheerfully
Fig. 18.—Nest of the Carpenter Bee, Undertakes. As yet she has com-
pleted but the shell of the destined
habitation of her offspring; each of which, to the number of ten
or twelve, will require a separate and distinct apartment. How,
you will ask, is she to formthese? With what materials can she
construct the floors and ceilings? Why, truly Gop “ doth instruct
her to discretion and doth teach her.”

lid

London: Walton & Maberly.

LARDNER'S MUSEUM OF SoIrgNcH.—No, 100. Prico 1d.

BR

~

F:G, 23.—NESTS OF THE REPUBLICAN.

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

—+——

CHAPTER IIT.

3. Habitations for the young provided more frequently than for

the adults.—74. Birds’ nests.—75. Nest of the baya.—76. Nest
of the sylvia sutoria.—77. Anti-social instinct of earnivorous animals.
—78. Their occasional association for predaceous excursions—79.
Assemblies of migratory animals.—80. Example of the migratory
pigeons of America.—81. The beaver.—82. Their habitations. —83.
Process of building their villages.—84. These acts all instinctive.——
85. Low degree of intelligence of the beaver.— 86. Method of catching
the animal.—87. Social instinct of birds—The republican.—s8.
Habitation of wasps.—89. Formation of the colony—Birth of neuters.
—90. Males and females. —91. Structure of the nest.+-92. Form and
structure of the comb.—93. Process of building the nest and con-
structing the combs.—94. Division of labour among the society. —5.
Number and appropriation of the cells——96. Doors of exit and
entrance.—97. Avenue to the entrance.—98. Inferior animals not
devoid of intelligence.—99. Examples of memory.—100. Memory of
the elephant—Anecdote.—101. Memory of fishes.—102. Examples
of reasoning in the dog.—103. Singular anecdote of a watch-dog.—
104. Low degree of intelligence of rodents and ruminants proved by
Cuvier’s observations.—105. Intelligence of the pachydermata—the
elephant—the horse—the pig—the pecari—the wild boar.—106. Tho
quadrumana.—107. Cuvier’s observations on the ourang-outang—
marks of his great intelligence.

Larpyer’s Museum of ScrENcE, L 145
No, 100.

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE,

In excavating her tunnel, the carpenter bee has detached a large
quantity of fibres, which lie on the ground like a heap of sawdust.
This material supplies all her wants. Having deposited an egg at
the bottom of the cylinder along with the requisite store of pollen
and honey, she next, at the height of about three-quarters of an
inch (which is the depth of each cell), constructs of particles of
the sawdust, glued together, and also to the sides of the tunnel,
what may be called an annular stage or scaffolding. When this
is sufficiently hardened, its interior edge affords support for a
second ring of the same materials, and thus the ceiling is gradually
formed of these concentric circles, till there remains only a small
orifice in its centre, which is also closed with a circular mass of
agglutinated particles of sawdust. When this partition, which
serves as the ceiling of the first cell and the flooring of the second,
is finished, it is about the thickness of a crown piece, and exhibits
the appearance of as many concentric circles as the animal has
made pauses in her labour. One cell being finished, she proceeds
to another, which she furnishes and completes in the same manner,
and so on until she has divided her whole tunnel into ten or
twelve apartments.

When the work here described is considered, it is evident that
its execution must require a long period of hard labour. The
several cells must be cut out, their floors agglutinated, and they
must be each supplied with a store of honey and pollen, the col-
lection and accumulation of which is a labour which must
occupy a considerable interval of time; and as the eggs are
deposited successively in the cells according as they are finished
and furnished, it is evident that they must be at any given
moment in very different states of progress, the young issuing
from those first deposited many days before the latest break the
shell. But sirce there are ten or twelve such chambers
-vertically superposed, and since the lowest are the first laid,
the new-born larva would cither be condemned to be imprisoned
in its cell until the births of all those above it should take place,
or, in escaping to the exterior, it would have to pass through the
chambers of all the others not yet developed, and would thus
damage or destroy them. The beneficent Creator of the insect
has, however, endowed it with an instinct which supplies the
place of the foresight necessary to provide against such a cata-
strophe. With admirable forethought she constructs, besides
the door already mentioned leading from cell to cell, another
orifice in the lowest cell, which serves as a sort of postern, through
which the insects produced from the earliest egers emerge into day.
In fact, all the young bees, even the uppermost, make their exit

by this road; for each grub, when about to pass into the state of
146

NEST OF THE BAYA.

pupa, places itself in its cell with its head downwards, and is thus
necessitated, when arriving at the perfect state, to pass through
the floor in that direction.*

73. It is especially in the first momont of their lives that
animals in general are feeble, tender, and helpless, and have need
of shelter from atmospheric vicissitudes, and protection from the
attacks of their enemies; and we find, accordingly, that it is
precisely these directions which have been given to the most
irresistible instinets with which Almighty Goodness has endowed
their parents. The number of species which in mature age build
habitations for their own use, is insignificant compared with
those which construct, with a labour which seems guided by the
most touching tenderness and forethought, habitations for their
young.

74. This habit is especially observable with birds. It is impos-
sible to regard with sentiments other than those of the most
profound interest the perseverance with which these creatures
bring—straw by straw, and hair by hair—the materials destined
for the formation of their nests, and the art with which they
arrange them. The form, structure, and locality of these habi-
tations is always the same for the same species, but different for
different species, and are ever admirably adapted to the circum-
stances in which the young family are destined to live. Sometimes
these cradles are con-
structed in the earth, and
in a rude manner; some-
times they are cemented to
the side of a rock, or to the
wall of a building, but
more commonly they are
placed in the branches of
trees, a hemispherical form
being given to them (fig.
19.) They resemble, in
form and structure, a little
basket, rounded at the bot-
tom .and hollowed out at
the top, the sides of which
are formed of blades of
grass, flexible straws and
twigs, and hairs taken from '
the wool of animals, the Fig. 20.—Nest of the Baya.
inside being lined with moss or down.

* Reaur. vi, 89—52 ; Mon. Ap. Angl. i. 189; Apis. * * a. 2. 8.
L2 147

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

75. Sometimes, however, a much more complicated and arti-
ficial structure is produced. The nest of the baya, a little bird
of India, resembling the bullfinch, (fig. 20,) has the form of a
flask, and is suspended from some branch which is so flexible
that neither serpents, monkeys, nor squirrels can approach it,
But still more effectually to secure the safety of their young, the
mother places the door of the nest at the bottom, where it can
only be reached by flying. This habitation would be liable to
fall to pieces if it were formed of straws or filaments laid hori-
zontally ; it is, therefore, constructed with admirable skill of
blades or filaments arranged longitudinally. Internally it is
divided into several chambers, the principal of which is occupied
by the mother sitting on her eggs; in another the father of the
family is accommodated, who is assiduous in his attentions to
his companion, and while she fulfils with exemplary tenderness
her maternal duties he amuses her with his song.

76, Another oriental bird, called the sylvia sutoria, or sewing
wood-bird, builds a nest equally curious. This little creature,
collecting cotton from the cotton-tree, spins it
with its bill and claws into threads, with
which it sews leaves round its nest, so as to
conceal its young from their enemies (fig. 21).

77. Different species of animals are go-
verned by social instincts which vary, but are
always conducive either to the preservation
or the well-being of the individual, or to the
continuance of the race. When the food by
which they are nourished is not so abundant
as to support any considerable numbers in the
same locality—which is generally the case
with the larger species of carnivorous animals
—they are endowed with an antisocial instinct,
and not only lead a solitary life, but in many
eases will not suffer any animal of their own
species to remain in their neighbourhood.

78. Occasionally, however, the operation of
this instinct is suspended. This takes place
either when a scarcity of subsistence forces
them to seek for food in places where they
would be liable to attacks, against which their

tor, 9] —Neg: 5 es fe ns ‘
Sem a individual force would be insufficient for de-

. fence, or where some large flocks of animals of
tie sort on which they prey happen to come into their neigh
bourhood. In such cases they assemble by common consent in

considerable numbers, and attack their prey in a body. Thus
148

SYLVIA SUTORIA,

we see in the winter season bands of wolves, impelled by hunger,
descend from the hills or forests and ravage the stock of the
farmer,—an enterprise on which they never venture when other
food can be obtained at less risk. In such cases, however, when
the immediate object of their enterprise has been accomplished,
their antisocial instinct revives, and they disperse, often quarrelling
among themsclves.

79. Various species which do not habitually live in society,
nevertheless assemble in vast numbers, when at certain seasons
they make long journeys. ‘This is the case generally with migra-
tory animals. The social instinct is, however, only temporary,
since, when the journey is completed, and they arrive at their
destination, they disperse.

80. The migratory pigeons of North America present a remark-
able. example of this instinct, of temporary and periodical soci-
ability. hese birds, when stationary, are dispersed in vast
numbers over the country, but when ‘about to migrate, they
assemble in inconceivable numbers, and perform their journey
together, flying in a close and dense column nearly a mile in
width, and six or eight milesin length. Wilson, the well-known
American ornithologist, saw a flock of these birds pass over him in
the state of Indiana, the number of which he estimated at two
millions. The celebrated Audubon related that one day in autumn,
having left his house at Henderson, on the banks of the Ohio, he
was crossing an inclosed tract near Horsdensburgh, when he saw
a flight of these pigeons, more than commonly numerous, directing
their course from the north-west towards the south-east. As he
approached Louisville, the flock became more and more numerous;
he described its density and extent to be such, that the light of
the sun at noon was intercepted, as it would have been by an
eclipse, and that the dung fell in a thick shower like flakes of
snow. Upon his arrival at Louisville, at sunset, having travelled
fifty-five miles, the pigeons were still passing in dense files. In
fine, this prodigious column continued to pass for three entire days,
the whole population having risen and resorted to fire- -arms to
destroy them.

The usual habitations of these birds are the extensive woods
which overspread that vast continent. A single flock will often
occupy one entire forest ; and when they remain there some time,
their dung is deposited on the ground in a stratum several inches
thick. The trees are stript throughout an extent of many thou-
sand acres, and sometimes completely killed, so that the traces of
their visit are not effaced for many years.

81. Of all mammifers, the Canadian beaver is the most ro
able for sociability, industry, and foresight. During the summer

149

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE,

it lives alone in burrows, which it excavates on the borders of
lakes and rivers; but on the approach of winter, the animals quit
these retreats, and assemble together for the purpose of construct-
ing a common habitation for the winter season. It is in the most
solitary places that they display their architectural instinct.

82. Two or three hundred having concerted together, select a
lake or river too deep to be frozen to the bottom, for the establish-
ment of their dwellings. They generally prefer a running stream
to stagnant water, because of the advantage it affords them as a
means of transport for the materials of their habitation. To keep
the water at the desired depth, they commence by constructing a
dam or weir ina curved form, the convexity being directed against
the stream. This is constructed with twigs and branches, curiously
interlaced, so as to form a sort of basket-work, the interstices
being filled with gravel and mud, and the external sugface
plastered with a thick and solid coating of the same. This
embankment, the width of which, at its base, is commonly from
twelve to fourteen feet, lasts, when once constructed, from year to
year, the same troop of beavers always returning to pass the winter
under its shelter. Their labours after the first season are limited
to keeping it in repair; they strengthen it from time to time by
new works, and restore whatever may be worn away by the action
of the weather. It is rendered more permanent by a vigorous
vegetation, which soon clothes its surface.

83. Wherever stagnant water has been selected, this preliminary
labour becomes unnecessary, and the animals proceed at once to
build their village. But, as has been already observed, they are
subject in that case to an equivalent amount of labour in the
transport of the materials.

When this preliminary work has been completed, they resolve
themselves into a certain number of families, and if the locality is
a new one, each family sets about the construction of its huts;
but if they return to the village they inhabited a former year,
their labour is limited to the general repair and cleansing of the
village.

The cabins composing it are erected against the dam, or upon
the edge of the water, and generally have an oval form. Their
internal diameter is six or seven feet, and their walls, like the
dam, constructed of twigs and branches, are plastered on both
sides with a thick coating of mud. The cabin, of which the
foundation is below the surface of the water, consists of a basc-
ment and an upper storey, the latter being the habitation of the
animals, and the former serving as storeroom for provisions,

The entrance to the cabin is in the basement story, and beluw
the level of the water. .

150

BEAVER,

Tt has been supposed that the animal uses its tail as a trowel in
building these habitations. It appears, however, that this is an

Fig. 22.—The Beaver.

error, and that they use only their teeth and the paws of their
fore-feet. They use their incisive teeth to cut the branches, and
when necessary the trunks of trees; and it is with their mouth and
their fore-feet that they drag these materials to the place where
they intend to erect their habitation, When they have the
advantage of running water, they take care to cut their wood at a
point on the banks of the stream above the place where they are
about to build. They then push the materials into the water,
following and guiding them as they float down the stream, and
landing them, in fine, at the point selected for their village. It
is also with their feet that they excavate the foundations of their
dwellings. These labours are executed with great rapidity and
chiefly during the night.

84. The beaver, being a mammifer of the order of rodents, is one
of the classes to which Cuvier assigns, as has been already stated,
the lowest degree of intelligence. If the various acts here related
were assigned to intelligence, they would evince a high degree of
that faculty. Cuvier, however, demonstrated conclusively that
they were acts altogether instinctive. He took several young
beavers from their dams, and reared them altogether apart from
their species, so that they had no means of acquiring any know-
ledge of the habits and manners of their kind. These animals,
brought up in cages, isolated and solitary, where they had no
natural necessity for building huts, nevertheless, pushed by the
blind and mechanical force of instinct, availed themselves of
materials, supplied to them for the purpose, to build huts,

151]

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

85. In the low estimate of intelligence assigned by Cuvier to the
beaver, other naturalists concur. ‘‘ All agree,” says Buffon, ‘‘that
this animal, far from having an intelligence superior to others, as
would necessarily be the case if his architectural skill were ad-
mitted to be the result of such a faculty, appears, on the contrary,
to be below most others in its individual qualities. It is an
animal, gentle, tranquil, familiar ; of plaintive habits, without
violent passions or strong appetites. When confined it is im-
patient to recover its liberty, gnawing from time to time the bars
of its cage, but doing so without apparent rage or precipitation,
and with the sole purpose of making an opening by which it may
get out. It is indifferent; shows no disposition to attachment,
and seels neither to injure nor to please those around it. Itseems
made for neither obedience nor command, nor even to have com-
merce with its kind. The spirit of industry which it displays
when assembled in troops, deserts it when solitary. It is deticient
in cunning, without even enough of distrust to avoid the most
obvious snares spread for it; and, far from attacking other
animals, it has not the courage or skill to defend itself.”

86. The pursuit of the beaver has been prosecuted to such an
extent in Canada, that the animal has been nearly exterminated
there, and more recently the trappers have been obliged to extend
their excursions in search of them to the sources of the Arkansas,
in the Rocky Mountains, The snare or trap used for catching the
animal is similar to that used ‘for foxes and polecats. The
trappers, who make their excursions in caravans for mutual pro-
tection against the attacks of the Indians, acquire such skill, that
they discern at a glance the track of the animal, and can even tell
the number which occupy the hut. They then set their traps at a
few inches below the surface of the water, and connect them by
chains to the trunk of a tree, or to a stake planted strongly in the
bank. The bait consists of a young twig of willow, stripped of
its bark, the top rising to five or six inches above the surface of
the water. The twig has been previously steeped in a sort of
docoction made from the buds of poplar, mint, camphor, and
sugar. The beaver, being gifted with a fine sense of smell, is
attracted by the odour, and in touching the twig he disengages
the detent of the trap and is caught.

87. The social instinct is not so common among birds as
with mammifers, nevertheless some remarkable examples of
it are found, among which may be mentioned a species of
sparrow called ‘the republican, which lives in numerous flocks
in the neighbourhood of the Cape of Good Hope. These birds

construct a roof (fig. 23), under which the whole colony build
their nests.
152

WASP.

88. But it is among insects we must look for the most striking
manifestations of the architectural instinct.

The wasp (tig. 24.) affords an example of this, scarcely less in-
teresting than the well-known economy of the bee. These little
animals, though ferocious and cruel towards their fellow insects,
are civilised and polished in their intercourse with each other, and
compose a community whose architectural labours will not suffer
by comparison even with those of
the peaceful inhabitants of the hive.
Like the latter, their efforts are
directed to the erection of a structure
for their beloved progeny, towards
which they manifest the greatest
tenderness and affection. They con-
struct combs consisting of hexagonal
cells for their reception; but the
substance they use for this purpose Fig. 24.—The Wasp,
is altogether different from wax,
and their dwelling is laid out upon a plan in many respects
different from that of the bee.

89. Their community consists of males, females, and neuters.
At the commencement of spring a pregnant female, which has sur-
yived the winter, commences the foundation of a colony destined
before the autumn to become a population of some twenty or
thirty thousand. The first offspring of this fruitful mother
are the ueuters, who immediately apply themselves to the
task of constructing cells, and collecting food for the numerous
members of the family who succeed them; and it is, while
engaged in this labour, that they are most disposed to avenge
themselves upon all who attempt to molest or interrupt them.

90. It is not till towards the autumn that the males and
females are brought forth. The males as well as the neuter
soon die, and the females surviving, seek some place of refuge in
which to pass the winter, being previously impregnated.

91. The nest of the common wasp, generally built under
ground, is of an oval form, from sixteen to eighteen inches high,
and from twelve to thirteen in diamcter.

Another species builds a nest of nearly the same form, but sus-
pends it from the branches of trees; the size of these suspended
nests varying from twe inches to a foot in diameter. <A section
of the underground nest of a common wasp is shown in fig. 25.

It is a singular fact that the material of which the wasp builds
its habitation is paper, an article fabricated by this insect ages
before the method of making it was discovered by man.

With their strong mandibles they cut and tear from any pieces

153

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE,

of old wood to which they can find access, a quantity of the
woody fibre, which they collect into a heap and moisten with

FS

Fig. 25.—Underground Wasp’s nest.

viscid liquid secreted in their mouths. They knead this with
their jaws until they form it into a mass of pulp similar pre-
cisely to that which the paper-maker produces from the vegetable
fibre of linen or cotton rags. With this pulp, they fly off to their
nests, where, by walking backwards and forwards, they spread it
out into leaves of the necessary thinness by means of their jaws,
tongue, and legs. This operation is repeated many times, until
at length as much of the paper is produced as is sufficient to
roof in the nest. The thinness of this wasp-made paper is about
the same as that of the book now in the hands of the reader.

The coating of the nest consists of fifteen or sixteen leaves of
this paper placed one outside the other, with small spaces between
them as shown in the figure, so that if rain should chance to
penetrate one or two of them, its progress may be arrested by the
inner ones, ,

92, The interior of the nest consists of from twelve to fifteen

horizontal layers of comb placed one over the other so as to form
154

WASP’S NEST,

as many distinct and parallel storeys. And here we may observe
in passing, the difference between the architectural system of the
wasp and that of the bee. The latter builds its cells in vertical
strata ranged side by side, the mouths opening horizontally so
that the insects in passing between stratum and stratum must
ereep np the intervening vertical corridors; while the wasp, on
the other hand, prefers horizontal corridors, so that in passing
between stratum and stratum it creeps over one and under the
other. In short, the positions given to the ranges of comb by
the bee, in contradistinction to that adopted by the wasp, will be
understood by supposing the sides of the wasp’s habitation to
represent the top and bottom of that of the bee.

Each comb of the wasp is composed, as shown in the figure, of a
numerous assemblage of hexagonal cells made of the same paper
as that already described, each cell being distinct, with double
partition-walls. These cells, unlike those of the hive bee, are
arranged only ina single row, the open end of each cell being
turned downwards and the upper end being closed by a slightly
convex lid, and not by a pyramidal cover like those of the honey-
comb. The upper surface of each stratum of comb is therefore
a continuous floor formed like an hexagonal mosaic, the surface
being nearly but not perfectly smooth, since each hexagonal piece
is curved slightly upwards.

The open mouths of the cells being presented downwards, the
nurses as they creep along the roof of each stratum can easily
feed the young grubs which occupy the cells of the stratum imme-
diately above. The space left between one stratum and another
is about half an inch.

Each stratum of comb is attached at the sides of the walls of
the nest, but the tenacity of the paper of which the comb is com-
posed would not be sufficient to sustain the weight of the stratum
when the cells are all filled with grubs. ‘The little architects,
therefore, as though they had foreseen this, take care to connect
at regulated intervals each stratum with that below it by strong
cylindrical columns or pillars. Each of these, like the columns
used in architecture, has a base and a capital, to which
greater dimensions are given than those of the connecting
shaft. These columns are composed of paper similar to that
used for other parts of the nest, but of a more compact and
stronger texture. The middle strata are connected by a colonnade
of from forty to fifty of these pillars; the number being less
as the dimensions of the strata decrease in going upwards or
downwards.

93. The process of building this structure is as follows. The
dome is first completed, as already described, by laying fifteen or

155

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE,

sixteen little sheets of paper one under the other, with intervening
spaces at each part of it. Before the walls are further continucd,
the first or uppermost stratum of comb is then fabricated and
attached to the sides by paper cement, and to the roof by a
colonnade of pillars. The empty cells of this stratum being ready,
the female big with eggs, deposits an egg in each, which is
retained there by being agglutinated to the roof and sides of the
cell: meanwhile, the workers continue their architectural labours,
first carrying downwards the paper walls as already described,
and next constructing the second stratum of comb and connecting
it with the first by a colonnade.

94. It must be observed that in the society there is a well-
organised division of labour. One part of it is employed cxcelu-
sively in building, another in collecting food for the young, and
in tending and nursing them, and, in fine, the female in depositing
eges in the cells. Since, therefore, a comparatively small pro-
portion of the colony is engaged in building, the progress of the
structure is necessarily slow, its entire completion being the work
of several months ; yet, though the result of such severe labour, it
merely serves during the winter as the abode of a few benumbed
females, and is entirely abandoned on the approach of the spring,
wasps never using the same nest for more than a single season.*

95. The cells, which in a populous nest are not fewer than 16000,
are of different sizes, corresponding to that of the three orders of
individuals which compose the community; the largest for the
grubs of females, the smallest for those of workers, The last
always occupy an entire comb, while the cells of the males and
females are often intermixed.

96. Besides openings which are left between the walls of the
combs to admit of access from one to the other, there are at the
bottom of each nest two holes, by one of which the wasps uniformly
enter, and through the other issue from the nest, and thus avoid
all confusion or interruption of their common labours.

97. As the nest is often a foot and a half under ground, it is
requisite that a covered way should lead to its entrance. This is
excavated by the wasps, who are excellent miners, and is often
very long and tortuous, forming a beaten road to the subterraneous
dwelling, well known to the inhabitants, though its entrance is
concealed from incurious eyes. The cavity itself, which contains
the nest, is either the abandoned habitation of moles or field
mice, or a cavern purposely dug out by the wasps, which exert
themselves with such industry as to accomplish the arduous
undertaking in a few days.t

* Reaum. vi. 6, t Kirby, vol. i p. 426,
126

MEMORY OF ANIMALS.

98. While it is incontestablo that instinct is the predominant
spring of action with the inferior species, it is nevertheless impos-
sible to deny many animals the possession of a certain degrce of
intelligence. Many are evidently endowed, not only with memory,
but even with judgment, and a certain degree of the reasoning
faculty.

99. That many species possess the faculty of memory in a high
degree of development is evident. Domesticated animals in
general know and remembcr their homes and their owners. A
horse, even after having made a single excursion from his stable,
will recognise the road to it on his return, and it is even affirmed
that upon returning after several years’ absence to a locality which
he has inhabited for a sufficient time to become familiar with it,
he will again recognise it, and left to himself will find his way
into the stable he formerly occupied, and resume the possession of
his former stall. The dog, the elephant, and other domesticated
animals, recognise, even after longer intervals, those who have
treated them well or ill, and manifest accordingly their gratitude
or their vengeance.

100. It happened not long since that an elephant in one of the
collections publicly exhibited in this country, extending his trunk
between the bars of his stall, suddenly struck down with it an
individual among a crowd of spectators, obviously selected by the
animal for the infliction of the blow. A circumstance so singular
excited inquiry, more especially as it was seen that the person
attacked had not in any way at the time offended or molested the
animal. It was ascertained, however, upon inquiry, that some
weeks previously the same individual had visited the menagerie,
and had pricked the extremity of the trunk of the creature with
some sharp instrument, taking care in doing so to be beyond its
reach.

101. Even fishes do not appear to be altogether destitute of
memory, since eels approach upon the call of their keeper.
Serpents in menageries also manifest the same faculty.

102. The actions by which animals show the exercise of a certain
degree of reasoning are scarcely less numerous. Thus, the dog,
which is kept in a cage, will gnaw the bars if they are of wood,
but will quietly resign himself to his captivity if they are of iron,
because he understands that since he can make an impression on
the bars in the first case by gnawing them, he may by continued
efforts cut them through and effect his liberation ; but finding the
first efforts in the other case unavailing, he infers that their con-
tinuance could never accomplish his object.

When a dog sees his master put on his hat, the animal infers at
once that he is going out, and jumping upon him loads him with

157

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE,

caresses to induce his master to take him as his companion.
In this case there is reasoning, comparison, judgment, and a certain
degree of generalisation. The dog generalises the act of putting
on the hat, and infers its consequences, he remembers the act done
on former occasions, and that it was followed by a walk abroad
on the part of the master, and he concludes that what took place
before will under like circumstances occur again.

103. A watch-dog, which was habitually chained to his box,
found that his collar was large enough to allow him to withdraw
his head from it at will. Reflecting, however, that if he practised
this mancuvre when exposed to the observation of his master or
keeper, the repetition of the act would be necessarily prevented
by the tightening of the collar, he refrained from practising it by
day, but availing himself of the expedient by night, roamed
about the adjacent fields which were stocked with sheep and
lambs, some of which, on these occasions, he would wound or
kill. Bearing on his mouth the marks of his misdeeds, he would
go to a neighbouring stream to wash off the blood, having done
which he would return to his box before daybreak, and, slipping
his head into the collar, lie down in his bed as though he had
been there during the night.

104. In the series of observations and experiments by which
F. Cuvier demonstrated the gradually increasing share of intelli-
gence given to mammifers, proceeding from the lowest to the
highest species, he showed from observations made on the habits
and manners of marmots, beavers, squirrels, hares, &c., that
rodents in general do not possess even that common degree of
intelligence which would enable them in all cases to recognise
their master or to know each other. The limited intelligence of
the ruminants was shown in the case of a bison in the menagerie
of the Garden of Plants, which having learned to recognise its
keeper, ceased to know him when he changed his dress, and
attacked him as it would have attacked a stranger. The keeper
having resumed his original costume, was instantly recognised
by the animal.

Two Barbary rams, which occupied the same stall, having been
shorn, ceased to recognise each other, and immediately engaged in
battle.

105. The manners of the elephant and horse are in obvious
accordance with the rank assigned to them by Cuvier in the
order of intelligence. But the pig species might seem at the
first more doubtful. Nevertheless, Cuvier found that it was
very little inferior to the elephant in sagacity. He found
that the pecari, or South American hog, was as docile and
familiar as the best trained dog. The wild boar is easily tamed,

158

OURANG-OUTANG.

recognises and obeys his keeper, and is capable of learning certain
exercises.

106. The increasing degreo of intelligence ascending from the
Carnivora to the Quadrumana was clearly established by the
observations of Cuvier, who found that in accordance with his
system, the ourang-outang, of all mammifers, manifested the
highest degree of intelligence,

107. A young ourang-outang, of the age of fifteen or sixteen
months, was an especial object of observation and experiment.
He showed the greatest desire for society, manifesting the
strongest attachment for those who had charge of him. He. loved.
to be “caressed by them, and used not only to embrace, but even
to kiss them. He pouted like a child when not allowed to have
his way, and testified his vexation by cries, rolling himself on
the ground, and striking his head upon it, so as to excite compas-
sion by hurting himself.

This animal used to amuse itself by climbing up the trees in
the Garden of Plants, and perching on their branches. It hap-
pened one day, that the keeper attempted to climb the tree to
catch it. The ourang-outang immediately shook the tree with
all its force, so as to deter the keeper from mounting it. The
keeper then retired, and after an interval returned, approaching
the tree, when the ourang-outang again set itself to shake the
branches. ‘‘In whatever manner,” says Cuvier, ‘this conduct
may be viewed, it will be impossible not to see in it a combination
of ideas, and to recognise in the animal capable of it the faculty
of generalisation.”

In fact, the ourang-outang in this case evidently reasoned by
analogy from himself to others. He had already experienced the
alarm excited in his own mind by the violent agitation of the
bodies on which he was supported. He argued, therefore, from
the fear which he felt himself to the fear which others would
suffer in like circumstances. In other words, as Cuvier justly
observes, he erected a general rule upon the basis of a particular
circumstance.

This animal being one day shut up alone in a room, it.
availed itself of a chair which happened to be placed at the door,
upon which it mounted to reach the latch. To prevent this
maneeuvre the keeper removed the chair; but the animal, when he
had departed, seized another chair which was at « distance from
the door, and placing it under the latch, mounted upon it in like
manner.

In this case we find all the indications of memory, judgment,
generalisation, and reasoning. The case is totally different from
those so frequently witnessed in the case of animals trained for

159

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

exhibition} The animal had never been taught to mount upon a
chair to reach the latch of the deor, nor had he ever seen any
one do so. It must therefore have been by his own experience
alone that he learned to perform the act. By observing the
actions of his keepers, he learned that chairs could be removed
from one place to another. Generalising this, he inferred that
he could remove a chair to the door. He learned also by his own
experience, that by mounting on chairs and tables, he could
reach objects which were unattainable from the floor, and,
generalising this experience, inferred that he could by the
same expedient reach the latch.*

It is impossible in cases like these to admit instinct as an
explanation of the phenomenon. The circumstances under which
such acts are performed, and the consequences which attend them,
are incompatible with all the conditions usually attached to the
faculty of instinct.

* Milne Edwards's Zoology, p. 256.

160

Fie, 27.—oURANG-OUTANG.

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

—_—-

CHAPTER IV.

108. Anecdotes of the Ourang-Outang.—109. Analogy ot the skeleton of

the Ourang-Outang to that of Man.—110. Of the brain to the human
brain.—111. Intelligence of the Wolf.—112. Anecdote of the Hawk,
the Cat, the Hagle.—113. Of the Dog.—114. Of the Bear. — 115.
Intelligence of animals decreases with age.-—116. Man distinguished
from other animals by the degree of intelligence.—117. Lower animals
are not endowed with reflection.—118. Inferior animals have methods
of intercommunication as a substitute for language.—119. Examples in
the cases of marmots, flamingoes, and swallows.—120. Intercom-
munication of ants.—121. Example in their mutual wars.—122. Acts
which cannot be explained either by instinct or intelligence.—123,
Carrier-pigeons.—124. Domesticity and tameness,

108. THE ourang-outang has been a subject of observation with
all naturalists who have devoted their labours to the investigation
of the habits of animals.

Buffon records circumstances respecting this animal that places

him in close relation with man. Thus he has seen him present
his hand to visitors to conduct them to the door, walk gravely
with them as a friend or companion would, sit at table and spread
his napkin in a proper manner, and wipe his lips with it, use a

Larpner’s Mcsecm or Scrrncu. M 161
No, 103.

Frontal.

Frys
"eta
Temporal :
e
x
, <
Cervical vertebrae os we
= Rs
Sternum Se e
(breast-Luoue) Rs
=
¢ « True ribe.
Dorsal vertebrie

y Humerus.

as +4 Lumbar veriebra:

i

+ Tliae.

Coce) x.

Fingers.

powle en

it
ul
{
b bs grste?
XG Toes
12

Fig. 28.—Skeleton of Ourang-Outang,

Frontal Parletal,

Orbit (ofeye) -2------- ----— \
1 ata ——-—— ‘Temporal.

Lowerjaw .-------~---~--—
Cervical vertebra = --------- , ota Claviele (collar
a me)»
Senpula (shoulder- -~- ------
blade)
True Riba,
Tlumerus (arm) --~------- H
False ribs.
fteeem Liac
Pelvis.
aa Patella (knee-cap},

Y Tarsus (instep).

“ Pa Metatarsus (lower

-
we instep).
o “ set Phalangcs (toes)
a
PZ
Fig. 29.~Hluman Skcieton. ’
163

M2

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

spoon and fork to convey food to his mouth, pour wine into a
glass and drink it, take wine with another at the table when so
invited, clinking the glass according to the French custom; he
would go and fetch a cup and saucer, put them on the table, put
sugar in the cup, pour tea into it, and leave it to cool before drink-
ing it, and all this without any prompting on the part of the
master. He was circumspect in approaching persons, to avoid the
appearance of rudeness, and used to present himself like a child
desirous of receiving caresses.

M. Flourens found the same marks of intelligence in an ourang-
outang in the Garden of Plants. This animal was gentle and
sensible to caresses, especially from children, with whom he was
always delighted to play.

He eould 1 lock and unlock the door of his room, and sould look
for the key of it. He showed none of the petulance and impa-
tience common to apes. His air was serious, his gait grave, and
his movements measured. ;

It appeared one day that an illustrious old savant accompanied
M. Flourens to visit the animal. The figure and costume of this
gentleman were singular. His body stooped, his gait was feeble,
and movement slow. These peculiarities evidently attracted the
notice of the animal, While he acquiesced with all that was
desired of him, his eye was never withdrawn from his strange
visitor. When they were about to retire, the animal, approaching
the old gentleman, took with a certain expression of archness the
cane from his hand, and affecting to support himself upon it, bent
his back and hobbled round the room, imitating the gait and ges-
tures of the stranger, after which, with the greatest gentleness,
he returned to him the walking-cane.

“We quitted the ourang-outang,” says M. Flourens, ‘ con-
vinced that philosophers are not the only observers in the world.”

109. The close analogy of the structure of the ourang-outang
to that of man will render this high degree of intelligence less
surprising. This analogy is even more apparent in the skeleton
than in the mere external form, as will be seen by comparing the
fig. 28, which is that of the ourang-outang, with fig. 29, which
is that of man.

110, An analogy not less striking is apparent in the brain of
the animal compared with the human brain. In fig. 30a side
view of the human brain is presented, and in fig. 31 a similar
view of the brain of the ourang-outang.

111. Leroy had already observed in the wolf, like signs of
generalisation, When that animal appears, he is pursued, and
the assemblage and tumult announce to him at once how much
he is feared, and all that he has himself to dread. Hence, when-

164

OURANG-OUTANG AND WOLF.

ever the scent of man strikes his sense, it awakens in him the

MT
it

l Me
oi aN

it

Fig. 30.—Human Brain.

idea of danger. While this fearful accessory attends it, the

Fig. 31.*—Brain of the Ourang-Outang.

* This figure is slightly incorrect. The brain of the ourang does not
quite overlay the cerebellum,

165

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE,

most seductive prey will not attract him; and even when the
cause of danger is not present, the desired object is long regarded
with suspicion. The wolf therefore, observes Leroy, must neces-
sarily have an abstract idea of the danger, since he cannot be
supposed to have a knowledge of the snares which are spread for
him on any particular occasion.

112, The following curious anecdote of the habits of hawks and
falcons is related by M. Dureau de la Malle.*

These birds, when they return from the pursuit of their! prey

at the season when their younglings have become sufficiently
fledged to rise on the wing,
bring back in their talons
some object, such as a mouse
or sparrow, which they have
killed, for the purpose of giv-
ing a lesson to their young
in the art of capturing their
prey. These birds are ob-
scrved to have peculiar calls,
which their young understand,
and which are always repeated.
for the same purpose. M. de
la Malle, who had a lodging
in the Louvre, observed one
day a male and female falcon
thus returning and bringing
with them a dead sparrow in
their talons. They soared in
the air over their nest, calling
their younglings with the cry
. intended to summon them to
rise on the wing. When the young birds thus rose, the old ones,

* Mémoire sur le dévellopement des facultés intellectuclies des Animauz.
166

HAWKS AND FALCONS.

soaring vertically over them, let fall the sparrow, upon which the
younglings pounced. In the first attempts, the latter invariably
failed in seizing the sparrow, not being ‘yct sufficiently adroit.
The old birds would then descend, and, seizing the prey, rise
with it into the air once more,‘and let it fall again upon tho
young; nor would they allow the latter to devour it until they
succeeded in catching it as it fell.

These lessons were progressive. The prey first let fall on their
younglings was dead. When they had acquired sufficient skill to
seize this in falling through the air, the old parents brought living
birds, first more or less disabled, and afterwards uninjured, upon
which they exercised their young in the same manner; and this
was continued until the young birds were fully able to pursue and
seize their prey without further practice or instruction.

Every one has scen the cat give to her kittens similar progressive
lessons,

She commenées by biting a mouse so as to stun, or slightly dis-
able, without killing it. She then liberates this mouse before her
kittens, and encourages them to pursue it, the matron cat standing
by, a vigilant observer of the scene. If the mouse shows any
sign of escaping, she immediately pounces upon it, and disables it
so effectually, that her kittens soon finish it.

According to Daubenton, the eagle carries its eaglet aloft
upon its wings, and Ictting it go in mid air, tries its powers of
flight. Ifits strength fails, the mother is sure to be at hand to
support it.

113. Among the acts of animals which are obvious results of
intelligence and not of instinct, the following may serve as
instructive and interesting examples :—

Plutarch relates, that a dog desiring to drink the oil contained
in a pitcher with a narrow mouth, the surface of the liquid being
so low as to be out of the reach of his mouth, threw pebbles into
it, which sinking in the oil, caused its surface to rise so high that
the dog could lap it up. According to Plutarch, the doz must
in this case have reasoned thus: the pebbles being heavier
than the oil will sink to the bottom; they will displace part of
the oil, and will displace more and more the more of them that
are thrown in; therefore by throwing in a sufficient number, the
surface of the vil must necessarily rise to the dog’s mouth.

114, M. Flourens relates the following anecdote of bears in the
Garden of Plants :— ys

It happened that thesé animals multiplied until there were
more of them than it was desired to keep, and it was resolved to
get rid of two. It was proposed to pvison them with prussic
acid. For this purpose some drops of that liquid were poured

167

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

npon little cakes, which being offered to the bears in the usual
way, the animals stood up on their hind legs, and opened their
mouths to catch them. The moment they received them, however,
they spat them out, and retired to a remote corner of their den,
as though they were frightened. After a short interval, however,
they returned to the cakes, and pushed them with their paws
into the water-trough left to supply them with drink, and there
they carefully washed them by agitating them to and fro in the
water. After this they smelled them, and again washed them,
and continued this process until the poison was washed off, when
they ate the cakes with impunity. All the poisoned cakes given
to them were thus treated, while all the cakes not poisoned were
devoured immediately.

The animals which had shown these singular marks of intel-
ligence were spared the fate to which they had previously been
eondemned,

115. One of the most remarkable circumstances attending the
faculty of intelligence, observed not only in the ourang-outang,
but in all species of apes, is that its greatest development is
manifested when the animal is young, and that instead of im-
proving, it decreases rapidly with age. The ourang-outang when
young excites surprise by his sagacity, cunning, and address.
Having attained the adult state, he is a gross, brutal, and intract-
able animal.* In this, as well as in all other species of apes, the
decrease of intelligence is commensurate with the increase of
growth and strength. The intelligence of the animal, therefore,
such as it is, is not like that of man, perfectable.

116, It is established, therefore, by the observations and re-
searches of naturalists, that intelligence is a faculty common to
man and to inferior animals. According to some, man is distin-
guished from other animals only by the degree in which he is
endowed with this faculty ; and the difference of degree is so
immense, that, before accurate observations had proved the con-
trary, the faculty of intelligence was deemed the exclusive gift of
the human race. Others contend that the intelligence of man
differs from that of animals not in degree only, but in kind ; that,
in short, what is called intelligence in animals, is a faculty essen-
tially different from what is called intelligence in man, and ought
to have been called by a different name.

The intelligence of animals is limited and stationary. It is
unimproveable and incommunicable. The intelligence of man, on
the contrary, is susceptible of improvement without limit, and

* Flourens, ‘‘De I’'Instinct et de l’Intelligente des Animaux,” p. 35.
163

SAGACITY OF BEARS,

may be imparted from individual to individual. It radiates like
light. Its power of growth and improvement is indefinite.

As we observed before, much of the obscurity and confusion
which has attended all discussion respecting the intelligence of
animals, arose from the omission of a sufficiently clear line of
demarcation between instinct, properly so called, and intelligence.

The great purposes of instinct are the preservation of the indi-
vidual and the continuance of the species. To plants, which live
and die without change of place, the Creator has given strong
and clastic tissues to ensure the preservation of the individual,
and myriads of germs are put in immediate juxta-position with
the organs destined to fecundate them, to ensure the continuance
of the species.

To animals, which are endowed with powers of locomotion, and
which are thereby exposed to numerous vicissitudes, God has
given instinct to preserve the individual, to reproduce the species,
and to perpetuate His work, thus rendering them unconscious
agents in fulfilling His almighty command to ‘increase and
multiply.”

Instinct is then a gift emanating direct from divine goodness,
and being a gift, and nota faculty, is inexplicable. It is a power
inseparable from animal life. Its dictates are as imperious as
those of gravitation or magnetism. It can neither be modified nor
evaded. The bee constructs her comb in one manner and on one
plan, from which no bee, old or young, ever. departs, The bird
builds its nest after a fashion as uniform, and by a law as rigorous,
as that by which the lilies of the field put forth their blossoms,

Nor is man himself more emancipated from the sway of instinct.
His first act on coming into the world is the instinctive seizure of
the maternal nipple. Fear is the instinct of self-preservation; love
that of the continuance of the species.

Intelligence on the one hand is the power of comprehending the
consequences of acts, and of giving to them a direction determined
by the will of the agent.

Reason is the most exalted form of intelligence, so exalted that
some contend that it ought to be considered as a distinct faculty.
It is by reason that man knows himself, judges himself, and con-
ducts himself,

Animals are variously gifted with intelligence, for they are
endowed with perception, memory, and consciousness. They are
susceptible of passions and affections, not only physical, but moral,
-All the human passions, anger, hatred, jealousy and revenge,
agitate them. They are devoted, affectionate, grateful, prudent,
circumspect, and cunning. Kindness soothes and melts them.
Injury awakens their resentment. The movements of the brain,

169

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

like those of the human encephalon, evokes in sleep their waking
thoughts and desires. The dog of the chace dreams that he pur-
sues the hare, and the more peaceful follower of the shepherd,
that he collects the straying flock.

The intelligence of animals is rigorously limited to the objects
of the external world that are presented to their senses. The intel-
ligence of man has a far wider range. By the senses it is put in
relation with the material world ; by consciousness, with the inner
being, the soul, and by intuitive ideas and sentiments with God.

The exalted intelligence of man confers on each individual a
character as distinct as his features. He acquires from it his
peculiar habits, qualities, tendencies, virtues, and faults. While it
makes him free in one sense, it isolates him in another. Instinct,
on the contrary, effaces individual distinction,—reducing all to a
common type. All beavers, and all bees, lead lives absolutely
alike, and may be regarded as differing no more than the units
which make up an abstract number.

117. The inferior animals are endowed, as we have scen,
largely with the powers of sensation, perception, and memory.
They also possess, though in avery inferior degree, powers of
comparison, generalisation, judgment, and foresight. In what
then, it may be asked, consists the mark of the vast difference in
degree of their intelligence, as compared with the mental powers
exercised by the human race. This question has been satisfac-
torily answered by the observations and researches of Frederick
Cuvier, Flourens, and others. According to these physiologists,
animals receive by their senses impressions similar to tiiose which
are received by ours. Like us, also, they preserve and are able
to recall the traces of these impressions. And such perceptions
being thus preserved, supply for them as for us numerous and
varied associations. Like us they combine them, observe their
relations, and deduce conclusions from them, and to this extent,
but not beyond it, their intelligence goes; but they have nota
glimpse of that class of ideas which Locke denominates ideas of
reflection. These, as is well known, are the perceptions which
man acquires, not by his organs of sense, but by the power with
which he is endowed to render his mind itself, and its operations,
the subjects of contemplation and perception. Man has as clear
a perception of the faculty of memory, for example, as he has
of the colours of the rainbow. ‘The scent of a rose is not more
distinct to his apprehension than are his mental powers of com-
parison and induction. In short, his ideas of reflection are as
vivid and definite as his ideas of sensation, and may, indeed, be
said to be even more permanent and inseparable from his intel-
lectual existence. He may be deprived of one or more of his

170

LANGUAGE.

organs of sense, and thus ccase to have any perception of the
qualities peculiar to that organ, save those which his memory
may supply. But so long as he exists and thinks, nothing
can deprive him of the immediate perception of the ideas of
reflection,

Of this class of ideas there is not the slightest trace in the
inferior animals, and herein lies the line of demarcation which
separates the human race from them, and places it immeasurably
above them. Animal intelligence never contemplates itself, never
sees itsclf, never knows itself. It is utterly incapable of that
high faculty by which the mind of man, as Locke observes,
‘turns its view inward upon itself.” That thought which con-
templates itself; that intelligence which sees itself, and studies.
itself; that knowledge which knows itself, constitutes a distinct
order of mental phenomena to which no inferior animal can attain.
These constitute, so to speak, the purely intellectual world; and.
to man alone, here below, that world belongs. In a word, the
animals feel, know, and think; but to man alone of all created
beings it is given to feel that he feels, to know that he knows, and
to think that he thinks.

118. Of all the instruments by which the range of intelligence
is enlarged, and the power of reason augmented, language is
assuredly the most important. It is the means by which feelings
are expressed and knowledge imparted. It is the instrument by
which ‘the observation and experience of individuals i is rendered
common property.

Language, in the only sense in which it is an instrument of
intelligence, is not the mere mechanical production of distinct
sounds by the vocal organs, for in this sense parrots may be said
to be endowed with it. It is a divine gift and not a faculty. Its.
origin has been sought for by the learned, but sought in vain.
Like the instinct of self-preservation and reproduction, it has been
an immediate emanation of divine power. God made it as he
made light. He said, ‘‘ Let man speak,” and man spoke!

Most animals have voice, but man alone has language. It is
by language, more than any other external character, that man is.
distinguished. The animals which come nearest to him in their
physical organisation, such as the ourang-outang and other apes,
are as completely deprived of language as those which are most
removed from him. Man isthus separated from the lower animals
by a bottomless abyss.

So important is language, as a means of extending the intelli-
gence, that in a moral sense it may be said, that to speak or not.
to speak, is to be or net to be!

There can be no deubt in the mind of any carcful observer, that

171

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

the chief obstacle to the extension of the natural intelligence of
many animals is the want of language to express their feelings
and thoughts. It is evident that if the dog or the ourang-outang,
which was the subject of Cuvier’s experiments, could speak, their
intelligence would be vastly enlarged.

Deprived of language, the more intelligent of the inferior
animals seem, like the dumb, deeply conscious of the want, and
make supernatural efforts to supply it and to make their sentiments
understood. For this purpose they resort to ingeniously modulated
vocal sounds, to signs and gestures. Each creature invents for
itself a sort of pantomimic and highly expressive language. The
dog appeals to you by gently laying his paw upon you, and if
that fail to awaken your attention, he strokes you or taps you
with it, as if he knew that you would thus be more apt to feel his
solicitation. Does the cat desire to have some want supplied ?
she raises her back and passes her soft fur in ‘contact with your
legs, and repeats the application by going round and round you.
The horse waiting at your door, fresh from his stall, and impa-
tient for air and exercise, expresses his desire by pawing the
ground with his fore-foot. In the pairing season, the male bird
tries to fascinate his gentle mate by spreading out the fine hues of
his plumage, making circuits, and fluttering around her.

All animals that have voice at all, use its modulations as a
means of expression, and render it manifest that they would
speak if they could. Many and ingenious are the artifices which
they use as a substitute for the admirable instrument of inter-
communication with which man has been gifted.

119. Thus, for example, in the case of such mammifers and
birds as usually assemble in herds or flocks, individuals are
observed who, being placed as sentinels, warn their companions of
the approach of danger.

Marmots and flamingoes present examples of this. It is also
observed with swallows, who, when their young are menaced by
an enemy, immediately call together, by their cries of distress, all
the ‘swallows of the neighbourhood, who fly to the aid of their
fellows, and unite to harass the animal whose attack they fear.

120. It has been well ascertained that various species of insects
have means of intercommunication. The observations of Huber,
Latreille, and other naturalists, leave scarcely a doubt on this
point. Thus, for example, when an ant’s nest has suffered any
local disturbance, the whole colony is informed of the disaster
with astonishing rapidity ; no appreciable sound is heard, but the
particular ants who are witnesses of the fact, are seen running in
various directions among their companions, They bring their

heads into contact, and unite their antenne as two persons
172

ANTS— CARRIER-PIGHONS.

would who take each other by the hand. All the ants who

are thus addressed are immediately observed to change their

route if they were moving, and to abandon their occupation if

they were at work, and to return with those from whom they |
received the information, to the scene of the disaster, which is

soon surrounded by thousands of these insects, thus brought from

a distance.

121. Inthe wars which the population of two neighbouring ant-
hills wage with cach other, scouts and outposts precede the main
body of the enemy, who often return to the leaders, giving them
information, the consequence of which is, a total change in the
order of march. In cases where these conflicts become doubtful,
and that an army finds itself in danger of defeat, the leaders are
often seen to detach aides-de-camp, or orderly officers, who
return in all haste to their ant-hill, to bring up reinforcements,
which assemble without delay, and march to join the main body
of the army.

122, Large as the range of action is, which admits of explanation
either by intelligence or instinct, or by the combination of both
these faculties, some acts still remain of an extraordinary cha-
racter which cannot be thus explained, and which would seem
to imply the existence of some faculty in certain species of inferior
animals of which man is totally destitute.

123. Among these may be mentioned the curious power with
which certain birds, such as pigeons and swallows, are endowed,
who, after being transported in close boxes to many hundred miles
from their nest, take flight upon being liberated, and without the
least hesitation direct their course towards the place from which
they had been taken, with a precision as unerring as if it were
actually within their view. In the case of dogs, and other
mammifers, who having been brought to a great distance from
home find their way back, the act is explained by the extreme
delicacy of their sense of smell; but no such explanation will be
admissible in the case of carrier-pigeons, who, having been brought,
for example, from London to Berlin, and being liberated at the
latter city, instantly direct their course back to the former, fying
over the great circle of the earth which joins the two places.
We are not aware that any attempt has been made to refer this
class of facts to any recognised faculty.

124. Closely connected with instinct and intelligence is the
capability of animals to be tamed and domesticated.

Naturalists agree generally that the animals which are domes-
ticated with greatest facility are those which in the wild state
live in troops or societies. ‘To this there is scarcely a well-esta-
blished exception. The cat and the pig are apparent exceptions,

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INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE,

but it is contended that they are never domesticated in the true
sense of the term. Every one is familiar with the difference
between the domestic state of the cat and that of the dog. The
latter is domesticated in the truest sense of the term.

A careful distinction must be maintained between the state of
tameness and that of domesticity. The species of animals which
are susceptible of these states are wholly different.

Domesticity descends from the parent to the offspring. Slavery
here descends as an heritage.

Tameness is produced in the individual by the immediate treat-
ment of man. The offspring of a tame bear would be as wild as
the parent was before its subjugation.

The young of tame animals must, like the parents, be tamed.
The young of domestic animals are already domestic.

Gregarious animals, endowed as they are with the instinct of
sociability, select by common consent a chief, to whom they yield
obedience. In the domesticated state, man taking the place and
exercising the influence of that chief, receives the same instinc-
tive obedience. Domesticity is, therefore, an animal instinct, of
which man avails himself to attract into his service animals of the
sociable species.

Tameness, on the contrary, is not an instinct but a habit. It
is produced originally by fear, and maintained by the creation of
artificial wants which man alone can satisfy.

Frederick Cuvier relates an incident which strikingly illustrates
the distinction between the true instinct of sociability and the
fictitious state of tameness produceable by habit.

A lioness, in the menagerie of the Garden of Plants, had been
reared in the same cage with a dog. The two animals became
familiar friends, and a mutual attachment was manifested. The
dog having died, was replaced by another, which the lioness
readily enough accepted and adopted, appearing to suffer nothing
from tue loss of her old friend and companion. In the same manner
she survived the second dog, showing no signs of grief, and
as readily as before received a third dog, with whom she
continued to associate in the same manner. This third dog,
however, outlived the lioness. When the latter died, a touching
spectacle was presented. The poor dog refused to leave the cage
in which the body of his friend lay. “His melancholy increased
from day to day. The third day he refused all food, and on the
seventh died.

The agencies by which man first tames and later domesticates
animals are few and obvious. They consist chiefly of the alter-
nate privation and satisfaction of their physical appetites, and

174

DOMESTICATION AND TAMING.

especjally of those fictitious appetites which man himself excites
and creates, and which he alone can gratify.

Hunger holds the first and most important place among these.
It is by playing upon this appetite that the horse is tamed and
trained. But little food is given at a time, and even that only at
long intervals. The animal, ignorant that he who tends him is the
cause of his privation, has full knowledge that it is by him that
this privation is relieved, and if some choice aliment exciting to
the palate is occasionally supplied, the authority of the master
is augmented, and the gratitude and affection of the animal
strongly awakened. Itis by certain dainties, and especially by
sugar, judiciously supplied and withheld, that the horses of the
circus are brought to perform feats which create such general
astonishment.

Privation of sleep is an agent of subjugation even more potent
than hunger ; and it is by hunger, pushed to excess, by the appli-
eation of the whip, by stunning and alarming noises, such as those
of the drum, and certain wind instruments, that this forced wake-
fulness is maintained.

By such means the urgent wants of the animal are excited ;
the power of the master is, however, acquired, not by the wants
themselves, but by exhibiting himself in the most unmistakeable
manner to the suffering creature as the agent of its relief. Not
satisfied with presenting himself as the agent for the relief of
real physical wants, he artfully creates fictitious ones, not only
physical but moral. Choice food is now and then given, which
none but the master can supply; but besides this the animal is
rendered sensible to caresses, and after a time becomes most
grateful for them. The elephant, the horse, and the cat are pas-
sionately sensible of the kindness of those with whom they are
domesticated, but it is over the dog, more than any other, that
the sway of this moral power extends.

A female wolf, in the Garden of Plants at Paris, became so
sensitive to the caresses of its keeper, that it testified a delirium
of joy at the sound of his voice or the touch of his hand. A
Senegal jackal betrayed like emotions excited by a similar cause,
and a common fox was habitually so affected by the caresses
of its keeper that it was found necessary to discontinue such
excitement.*

The process of subjugation of the wild animal is then one which
attains its object by address and seduction. Natural wants are
made to be felt, and fictitious ones are created, that man may
have the merit of supplying them. He thus renders himself more

* Mem., Fred. Cuvier.
175

INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.

and more necessary by the benefits he confers; and having arrived
at that point, he ventures to employ fear and chastisement, which
if resorted to without the previous measures would have excited
resistance and repugnarice.

To tame an animal is not to train him, Tameness is the
subjugation of those instincts which would render him hurtful
to those around him. Training is directed to the intelligence
rather than the instinct. It is an educational process, which
develops intelligence while it weakens instinct. Savages, while
they are less intelligent than the civilised, have surer and
quicker instincts. It is the same with the lower animals.
Domesticity always enfeebles and often wholly effaces instinct.

When man educates and trains an animal, he imparts to it a.
ray of his own intelligence. The change is rather that of a new
faculty created than of an existing one enlarged. It is a trans-
formation rather than an improvement.

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