Chapter X: Letter XX: Societies of Insects (2)

Bees, however, if they are not molested, are not usually ill-tempered: if you make a captive of their queen, they will cluster upon your head, or any other part of your body, and never attempt to sting you. I remember, when a boy, seeing the celebrated Wildman exhibit many feats of this kind, to the great astonishment and apprehension of the uninformed spectators. The writer lately quoted (Thorley) was assisted once by his maidservant to hive a swarm. Being rather afraid, she 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 upon her; but at length her master quieted her fears, and began to search for the queen. He succeeded; and hoped when he put her into the hive that the bees would follow; but they only seemed to cluster more closely. Upon a second search he found another queen, (unless the same had escaped and returned,) whom seizing, he placed in the hive. The bees soon missed her, and crowded after her into it: so that in the space of two or three minutes not one was left upon the poor terrified girl. After this escape, she became quite a heroine, and would undertake the most hazardous employments about the hives[262].

Many means have been had recourse to for the dispersion of mobs and the allaying of popular tumults. In St. Petersburgh (so travellers say) a fire-engine playing upon them does not always cool their choler; but were a few hives of bees thus employed, their discomfiture would be certain. The experiment has been tried. Lesser tells us, that in 1525, during the confusion occasioned by a time of war, a mob of peasants assembling in Hohnstein (in Thuringia) attempted to pillage the house of the minister of Elende; who having in vain employed all his eloquence to dissuade them from their design, ordered his domestics to fetch his bee-hives, and throw them in the middle of this furious mob. The effect was what might be expected; they were immediately put to flight, and happy if they escaped unstung[263].

The anger of bees is not confined to man; it is not seldom excited against their own species. From what I have said above respecting the black bees[264] and their fate, it seems not improbable that, when the workers become too old to be useful to the community, they are either killed, or expelled from the society. Reaumur, who observed that the inhabitants of the same hive had often mortal combats, was of opinion that this was their object in these battles[265], which take place, he observes, in fine or warm weather. On these occasions the bees are sometimes so eager, that examining them with a lens does not part them:--their whole object is to pierce each other with their sting, the stroke of which, if once it penetrates to the muscles, is mortal. In these engagements the conqueror is not always able to extricate this weapon, and then both perish. The duration of the conflict is uncertain; sometimes it lasts an hour, and at others is very soon determined: and occasionally it happens that both parties, fatigued and despairing of victory, give up the contest and fly away.

But the wars of bees are not confined to single combats; general actions now and then take place between two swarms. This happens when one takes a fancy to a hive that another has pre-occupied. In fine warm weather, strangers, that wish to be received amongst them, meet with but an indifferent welcome, and a bloody battle is the consequence. Reaumur witnessed one that lasted a whole afternoon, in which many victims fell. In this case the battle is still between individuals, who at one time decide the business within the hive, and at another at some distance without. In the former case the victorious bee flies away, bearing her victim under her body between her legs, sometimes taking a longer and sometimes a shorter flight before she deposits it upon the ground.--She then takes her repose near the dead body, standing upon her four anterior legs, and rubbing the two hinder ones against each other. If the battle is not concluded within the hive, the enemy is carried to a little distance, and then dispatched.

This strange fury however does not always show itself on this occasion; for now and then some friendly intercourse seems to take place. Bees, from a hive in Mr. Knight's garden, visited those in that of a cottager, a hundred yards distant, considerably later than their usual time of labour, every bee as it arrived appearing to be questioned. On the tenth morning, however, the intercourse ceased, ending in a furious battle. On another occasion, an intimacy took place between two hives of his own, at twice the distance, which ceased on the fifth day. Sometimes he observed that this communication terminated in the union of two swarms; as in one instance, where a swarm had taken possession of a hollow tree[266], it is probable that the reception of one swarm by another may depend upon their numbers, and the fitness of their station to accommodate them. Thorley witnessed a battle of more than two days continuance, occasioned by a strange swarm forcing their way into a hive[267]. Two swarms that rise at the same time sometimes fight till great numbers have been destroyed, or one of the queens slain, when both sides cease all their enmity and unite under the survivor[268].

These apiarian battles are often fought in defence of the property of the hive. Bees that are ill managed, and not properly fed, instead of collecting for themselves, will now and then get a habit of pillaging from their more industrious neighbours: these are called by Schirach _corsair_ bees, and by English writers, _robbers_. They make their attack chiefly in the latter end of July, and during the month of August. At first they act with caution, endeavouring to enter by stealth; and then, emboldened by success, come in a body. If one of the queens be killed, the attacked bees unite with the assailants, take up their abode with them, and assist in plundering their late habitation[269]. Schirach very gravely recommends it to apiarists whose hives are attacked by these depredators, to give the bees some honey mixed with brandy or wine, to increase and inflame their courage, that they may more resolutely defend their property against their piratical assailants[270]. It is however to be apprehended that this method of making them pot-valiant might induce them to attack their neighbours, as well as to defend themselves.

Sometimes combats take place in which three or four bees attack a single individual, not with a design to kill, but merely to rob: one seizes it by one leg, another by another; till perhaps there are two on each side, each having hold of a leg, or they bite its head or thorax. But as soon as the poor animal that is thus haled about and maltreated unfolds its tongue, one of the assailants goes and sucks it with its own, and is followed by the rest, who then let it go. These insects, however, in their ordinary labours are very kind and helpful to each other; I have often seen two, at the same moment, visit the same flower, and very peaceably despoil it of its treasures, without any contention for the best share.

As the poison of bees exhales a penetrating odour, M. Huber was curious to observe the effect it might produce upon them. Having extracted with pincers the sting of a bee and its appendages impregnated with poison, he presented it to some workers, which were settled very tranquilly before the gate of their mansion. Instantaneously the little party was alarmed; none however took flight, but two or three darted upon the poisoned instrument, and one angrily attacked the observer. When however the poison was coagulated, they were not in the least affected by it--A tube impregnated with the odour of poison recently ejected being presented to them, affected them in the same manner[271]. This circumstance may sometimes occasion battles amongst them, that are not otherwise easy to be accounted for.

Anger is no useless or hurtful passion in bees: it is necessary to them for the preservation of themselves and their property, which, besides those of their own species, are exposed to the ravages of numerous enemies. Of these I have already enumerated several of the class of insects, and also some beasts and birds that have a taste for bees and their produce[272]. The _Merops Apiaster_ (which has been taken in England), the lark and other birds catch them as they fly. Even the frog and the toad are said to kill great numbers of bees; and many that fall into the water probably become the prey of fish. The mouse also, especially the field-mouse, in winter often commits great ravages in a hive, if the base and orifices are not well secured and stopped[273]. Thorley once lost a stock by mice, which made a nest and produced young amongst the combs[274]. The titmouse, according to the same author, will make a noise at the door of the hive, and when a bee comes out to see what is the matter, will seize and devour it. He has known them eat a dozen at a time. The swallows will assemble round the hives and devour them like grains of corn[275]. I need only mention spiders, in whose webs they sometimes meet with their end, and earwigs and ants, which creep into the hive and steal the honey[276].

Upon this subject of the enemies of bees, I cannot persuade myself to omit the account Mr. White has given of an idiot-boy, who from a child showed a strong propensity to bees. They were his food, his amusement, his sole object. In the winter he dozed away his time in his father's house, by the fire-side, in a torpid state, seldom leaving the chimney-corner: but in summer he was all alert and in quest of his game. Hive-bees, humble-bees, and wasps were his prey wherever he found them. He had no apprehension from their stings, but would seize them with naked hands, and at once disarm them of their weapons, and suck their bodies for the sake of their honey-bags. Sometimes he would fill his bosom between his shirt and skin with these animals; and sometimes he endeavoured to confine them in bottles. He was very injurious to men that kept bees; for he would glide into their bee-gardens, and sitting down before the stools, would rap with his fingers, and so take the bees as they came out. He has even been known to overturn the hives for the sake of the honey, of which he was passionately fond. Where metheglin was making, he would linger round the tubs and vessels, begging a draught of what he called _bee-wine_. As he ran about, he used to make a humming noise with his lips resembling the buzzing of bees. This lad was lean and sallow, and of a cadaverous complexion; and except in his favourite pursuit, in which he was wonderfully adroit, discovered no manner of understanding. Had his capacity been better, and directed to the same object, he had perhaps abated much of our wonder at the feats of a more modern exhibiter of bees; and we may justly say of him now,

"... Thou,
Had thy presiding star propitious shone,
Should'st Wildman be[277]."

The worker bees are annual insects, though the queen will sometimes live more than two years; but, as every swarm consists of old and young, this is no argument for burning them. It is a saying of bee-keepers in Holland, that the first swallow and the first bee foretell each other[278]. This perhaps may be correct there; but with us the appearance of bees considerably precedes that of the swallow; for when the early crocuses open, if the weather be warm, they may always be found busy in the blossom.

The time that bees will inhabit the same stations is wonderful. Reaumur mentions a countryman who preserved bees in the same hive for thirty years[279]. Thorley tells us that a swarm took possession of a spot under the leads of the study of Ludovicus Vives in Oxford, where they continued a hundred and ten years, from 1520 to 1630[280]. These circumstances have led authors to ascribe to bees a greater age than they can claim. Thus Mouffet, because he knew a bees-nest which had remained thirty years in the same quarters, concludes that they are very long-lived, and very sapiently doubts whether they even die of old age at all[281]!!! Which is just as wise as if a man should contend, because London had existed from before the time of Julius Cæsar, that therefore its inhabitants must be immortal.

Bees are subject to many accidents, particularly, as I have said above, they often fall or are precipitated by the wind into water; and though like the cat a bee has not nine lives, nor

"Nine times emerging from the crystal flood,
She mews to every watery god,"

yet she will bear submersion nine hours; and, if exposed to sufficient heat, be reanimated. In this case their proboscis is generally unfolded, and stretched to its full length. At the extremity of this, motion is first perceived, and then at the ends of the legs. After these symptoms appear they soon recover, fold up the tongue, and plume themselves for flight[282]. Experimentalists may therefore, without danger, submerge a hive of bees, when they want to examine them particularly, for they will all revive upon being set to the fire. Reaumur says that in winter, during frosts, the bees remain in a torpid state. He must mean severe frosts; for Huber relates an instance, when upon a sudden emergency, the bees of one of his hives set themselves to work in the middle of January; and he observes that they are so little torpid in winter, that even when the thermometer abroad is below the freezing point, it stands high in populous hives. Swammerdam, and after him the two authors last quoted, found that sometimes, even in the middle of winter, hives have young brood in them, which the bees feed and attend to[283]. In an instance of this kind, which fell under the eye of Huber, the thermometer stood in the hive at about 92°. In colder climates, however, the bees will probably be less active in the winter. They are then generally situated between the combs towards their lower part. But when the air grows milder, especially if the rays of the sun fall upon the hive and warm it, they awake from their lethargy, shake their wings, and begin to move and recover their activity; with which their wants returning, they then feed upon the stock of honey and bee-bread which they have in reserve. The lowest cells are first uncovered, and their contents consumed; the highest are reserved to the last. The honey in the lowest cells being collected in the autumn, probably will not keep so well as the vernal.

The degree of heat in a hive in winter, as I have just hinted, is great. A thermometer near one, in the open air, that stood in January at 6-3/4° below the freezing point, upon the insertion of the bulb a little way into the hive, rose to 22-1/2° above it; and could it have been placed between the combs, where the bees themselves were agglomerated, the mercury, Reaumur conjectures, would have risen as high as it does abroad in the warm days in summer[284]. Huber says that it stands in frost at 86° and 88° in populous hives[285]. In May, the former author found, in a hive in which he had lodged a small swarm, that the thermometer indicated a degree of heat above that of the hottest days of summer[286]. He observes that their motion, and even the agitation of their wings, increases the heat of their atmosphere. Often, when the squares of glass in a hive appeared cold to the touch, if either by design or chance he happened to disturb the bees, and the agglomerated mass in a tumult began to move different ways, sending forth a great hum, in a very short time so considerable an accession of heat was produced, that when he touched the same squares of glass, he felt them as hot as if they had been held near a fierce fire. By teasing the bees, the heat generated was sometimes so great as to soften very much the wax of the combs, and even to cause them to fall[287]. This generation of heat in bee-hives seems to be one of those mysteries of nature that has not yet been satisfactorily accounted for. Generally speaking, insects appear to have no animal heat; the temperature of their bodies being usually that of the atmosphere in which they happen to be. But bees are an exception to this rule, and produce heat in themselves. Whether they are the only insect that can do this, as John Hunter affirms, or whether others that are gregarious, such as humble-bees, wasps, and ants, may not possess the same faculty, seems not yet clearly ascertained. The heat in the hive in the above instance was evidently occasioned by the tumult into which the bees were put; and the hum, and motions that followed it, were probably the result of their anger. But how these act physically, in an animal that has no circulation, I am unable to say; and must leave the question, like my predecessors, undecided.

* * * * *

And now having detailed to you thus amply the wonderful history and proceedings of the social tribes of the insect world, you will allow, I think, that I have redeemed my pledge, when I taught you to expect that this history would exceed in interest and variety and marvellous results every thing that I had before related to you. I trust, moreover, that you will scarcely feel disposed to subscribe to that opinion, though it has the sanction of some great names, which attributes these almost miraculous instincts to mere sensation; which tells us, that the sensorium of these insects is so modelled with respect to the different operations that are given them in charge, that it is by the attraction of pleasure alone that they are determined to the execution of them; and that, as every circumstance relative to the succession of their different labours is pre-ordained, to each of them an agreeable sensation is affixed by the Creator: and that thus, when the bees build their cells; when they sedulously attend to the young brood, when they collect provisions; this is the result of no plans, of no affection, of no foresight; but that the sole determining motive is the enjoyment of an agreeable sensation attached to each of these operations[288]. Surely it would be better to resolve all their proceedings at once into a direct impulse from the Creator, than to maintain a theory so contrary to fact; and which militates against the whole history which M. Huber, who adopts this theory from Bonnet, has so ably given of these creatures. That they may experience agreeable sensations from their various employments, nobody will deny; but that such sensations instruct them how to perform their several operations, without any plan previously impressed upon their sensorium, is contrary both to reason and experience. They have a plan, it is evident; and that plan, which proves that it is not mere sensation, they vary according to circumstances. As to affection--that bees are irritable, and feel the passion of anger, no one will deny; that they are also susceptible of fear, is equally evident: and if they feel anger and fear, why may they not also feel _love_? Further, if they have recourse to precautions for the prevention of any evil that seems to threaten them, how can we refuse them a degree of _foresight_? Must we also resolve all their patriotism, and the singular regard for the welfare of their community, which seems constantly to actuate them, and the sacrifices, even sometimes of themselves, that they make to promote and ensure it, into individual self-love? We would not set them up as rivals to man in intelligence, foresight, and the affections; but they have that degree of each that is necessary for their purposes. On account of the difficulties attending all theories that give them some degree of these qualities, to resolve all into mere sensation, is removing one difficulty by a greater.

That these creatures from mere selfishness build their combs, replenish them with the fruit of their unwearied labours, attend so assiduously to the nurture of the young brood, lavish their caresses upon their queen, prevent all her wants, give a portion of the honey they have collected to those that remain in the hives, assist each other, defend their common dwelling, and are ready to sacrifice themselves for the public good--is an anomaly _in rerum natura_ that ought never to be admitted, unless established by the most irrefragable demonstration;--and I think you will not be disposed without full proof to yield yourself to a mere theory, so contradictory of all the facts we know relative to this subject.

After all, there are mysteries, as to the _primum mobile_, amongst these social tribes, that with all our boasted reason we cannot fathom; nor develop satisfactorily the motives that urge them to fulfill in so remarkable though diversified a way their different destinies. One thing is clear to demonstration, that by these creatures and their instincts, the power, wisdom and goodness of the GREAT FATHER of the universe are loudly proclaimed; the atheist and infidel confuted; the believer confirmed in his faith and trust in Providence, which he thus beholds watching, with incessant care, over the welfare of the meanest of his creatures; and from which he may conclude that he, the prince of the creation, will never be overlooked or forsaken: and from them what lessons may be learned of patriotism and self-devotion to the public good; of loyalty; of prudence, temperance, diligence, and self-denial.--But it is time at length to put an end to this long disquisition.

I am, &c.

FOOTNOTES:

[199] Bonnet, x. 259.

[200] _Bibl. Nat._ i. 221. _b._ ed. Hill.

[201] Reaum. v. 503--.

[202] Huber, i. 24--.

[203] Ibid. 37--.

[204] Huber, i. 195.

[205] Huber, i. 199.

[206] VOL. I. 376-- and 487--.

[207] The following beautiful lines by Professor Smyth are extremely applicable to this part of a bee's labours:

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

"And careless of this noon-tide heat,
I'll 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 ardor ply!
Then o'er the stem, tho' fair it grow,
With touch rejecting, glance, and go.

"O Nature kind! O labourer wise!
That roam'st along the summer's ray,
Glean'st every bliss thy life supplies,
And meet'st prepared thy wintry 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."

[208] Reaum. v. _t._ xxviii. _f._ 1. 2.

[209] Ibid. _f._ 7. _o._

[210] Huber, ii. 5. _t._ ii. _f._ 8.

[211] Wildman, 43.

[212] VOL. I. 196.

[213] Huber, ii. 82.

[214] Abbé Boisier, quoted in Mills _On Bees_, 24.

[215] Schirach, 45. Huber, i. 179.

[216] Nicholson's _Journal_, xxiii. 287.

[217] VOL. I. 142.

[218] Xenoph. _Anabas_. l. iv. Plin. _Hist. Nat._ l. xxi. c. 13.

[219] Reaum. v. _t._ xxvi. _f._ 1.

[220] Reaum. 295.

[221] Kirby, _Monogr. Ap. Angl._ i. _t._ 12. * *. e. 1. _neut._ f. 19. _a. b._

[222] _Hist. Anim._ l. ix. c. 40.

[223] xlvi. 536.

[224] _ubi supra_, 301.

[225] VOL. I. 299.

[226] Reaum. v. 302.--comp. 433. I have seen bees out before it was light.

[227] Huber observes that the honey for store is collected by the wax-making bees only (_abeilles cirières_), and that the nurses (_abeilles nourrices_) gather no more than what is wanted for themselves and companions at work in the hive. ii. 66.

[228] Reaum. v. 448.

[229] Ibid. v. 418--.

[230] p. 38.

[231] _ubi supr._ 419.

[232] Compare Reaum. 420, and Huber, ii. 24, with Wildman, 40.

[233] Huber, ii. 260.

[234] _Insect. Theatr._ 36. Schirach, 241.

[235] VOL. I. 496.

[236] Reaum. _ubi supr._ 437--.

[237] _Philos. Trans._ 1807, 242.

[238] xxxi. 148.

[239] Knight in _Philos. Trans._ for 1807, 237. Marshall, _Agricult. of Norfolk_.

[240] It has been supposed, and the supposition was adopted originally in this work (VOL. I. 1st Ed. p. 371), that the object in this case is brooding the eggs; but upon further consideration we incline to Huber's opinion, that it has no connexion with it, the ordinary temperature of the hive being sufficient for this purpose; and the circumstance of their entering unoccupied cells proves that this attitude has no particular connexion with the eggs. _Huber_, i. 212.--"When large pieces of comb," says Wildman (p. 45), "were broken off and left at the bottom of the hive, a great number of bees have gone and placed themselves upon them." This looks like incubation. Reaumur however affirms (p. 591) that if part of a comb falls and loses its perpendicular direction, the bees, as if conscious that they would come to nothing, pull out and destroy all the larvæ. They might perhaps remain perpendicular in the case observed by Wildman.

[241] Reaum. v. 431. Huber, ii. 212.

[242] Reaum. v. 432--.

[243] Reaum. v. 434--.

[244] VOL. I. 331, Reaum. v. 698--.

[245] _Philos. Trans._ 1792, 160. Comp. Reaum. v. 450.

[246] Reaum. _ibid._ 591-- Hunter, _ibid._ 161--.

[247] Reaum. _ibid._ 697.

[248] Reaum. v. 602.

[249] Ibid. 656.

[250] ii. 339.

[251] Reaum. v. 672.

[252] Huber, ii. 338-362.

[253] Huber, ii. 359--.

[254] Reaum. v. 442.

[255] Bonner _On Bees_, 102.

[256] Reaum. _ubi supr._ 580-600.

[257] In _Philos. Trans._ 1807, 239.

[258] Huber, ii. 407--.

[259] Ibid. 375.

[260] Thorley, 16-- The Psalmist alludes to the fury of these creatures, when he says of his enemies, "They compassed me about like bees." _Ps._ cxviii. 12.

[261] Park's _Last Mission_, 153. 297, Comp. _Journal_, 331.

[262] Thorley 150--.

[263] Lesser, _L._ ii. 171.

[264] See above, p. 126.

[265] Reaum. v. 360-365.

[266] _Philos. Trans._ 1807, 234--.

[267] 166.

[268] Thorley, _ibid._ Comp. Mills _On Bees_, 63.--The following account of an apiarian battle was copied from the _Carlisle Patriot_ Newspaper:--On Saturday last, in the village of Cargo, a combat of a truly novel description was witnessed. A hive of bees belonging to a professional gentleman of this city, swarmed on Thursday last, after which they were hived in the regular way, and appeared to be doing well. On the Saturday after, a swarm of bees, from some neighbouring hive, appeared to be flying over the garden in which the hive above-mentioned was placed, when they instantly darted down upon the hive of the new settlers, and completely covered it: in a little time they began to enter the hive, and poured into it in such numbers that it soon became completely filled. A loud humming noise was heard, and the work of destruction immediately ensued; the winged combatants sallied forth from the hive, until it became entirely empty; and a furious battle commenced in "upper air," between the besiegers and the besieged. A spectator informs us, that these intrepid little warriors were so numerous, that they literally darkened the sky overhead like a cloud; meanwhile the destructive battle raged with fury on both sides, and the ground beneath was covered with the wounded and the slain, hundreds of them were lying dead, or crawling about, disabled from re-ascending to the scene of action. To one party, however, the palm of victory was at last awarded, and they settled upon the branch of an adjoining apple-tree, from which they were safely placed in the empty hive, which had been the object of their valiant contention, and where they now continue peacefully and industriously employed in adding to the stores of their commonwealth.

[269] Comp. Schirach, 49. Mills, 62-- Thorley, 163--.

[270] 51.

[271] ii. 380--.

[272] VOL. I. 163, and 281, 289.

[273] Schirach, 52.

[274] 170.

[275] Reaum. v. 710.

[276] Thorley, 171.

[277] White's _Nat. Hist._ 8vo. i. 339--.

[278] Swamm. _Bib. Nat._ Ed. Hill. i. 160.

[279] _ubi supr._ 665.

[280] 178--.

[281] _Theatr. Ins._ 21.

[282] Reaum. v. 540--.

[283] January 11, 1818. My bees were out, and very alert this day. The thermometer stood abroad in the shade at 51-1/2°. When the sun shone there was quite a cluster of them at the mouth of the hives, and great numbers were buzzing about in the air before them.

[284] v. 671.

[285] i. 354. Note *.

[286] _ubi supr._

[287] Reaum. v. 672.

[288] Huber, i. 313.