Chapter III: Letter XVII: Societies of Insects Continued (1)

PERFECT SOCIETIES. (_White Ants and Ants._)

The associations of insects of which my last letter gave you a detail, were of a very imperfect kind, both as to their object and duration: but those which I am now to lay before you exhibit the semblance of a nearer approach, both in their principle and its results, to the societies of man himself. There are two kindred sentiments, that in these last act with most powerful energy--desire and affection.--From the first proceed many wants that cannot be satisfied without the intercourse, aid, and co-operation of others; and by the last we are impelled to seek the good of certain objects, and to delight in their society. Thus self-love combines with philanthropy to produce the social principle, both desire and love alternately urging us to an intercourse with each other; and from these in union originate the multiplication and preservation of the species. These two passions are the master-movers in this business; but there is a third subsidiary to them, which, though it trenches upon the social principle, considered abstractedly, is often a powerful bond of union in separate societies--you will readily perceive that I am speaking of fear;--under the influence of this passion these are drawn closer together, and unite more intimately for defence against some common enemy, and to raise works of munition that may resist his attack.

The main instrument of association is language, and no association can be perfect where there is not a common tongue. The origin of nationality was difference of speech: at Babel, when tongues were divided, nations separated. Language may be understood in a larger sense than to signify inflections of the voice,--it may well include all the means of making yourself understood by another, whether by gestures, sounds, signs, or words: the two first of these kinds may be called natural language, and the two last arbitrary or artificial.

I have said that perfect societies of insects exhibit the _semblance_ of a nearer approach, both in their principle and its results, to the societies of man himself, because, unless we could perfectly understand what instinct is, and how it acts, we cannot, without exposing ourselves to the charge of temerity, assert that these are precisely the same.

But when we consider the object of these societies, the preservation and multiplication of the species; and the means by which that object is attained, the united labours and co-operation of perhaps millions of individuals, it seems as if they were impelled by passions very similar to those main-springs of human associations, which I have just enumerated. Desire appears to stimulate them--love to allure them--fear to alarm them. They want a habitation to reside in, and food for their subsistence. Does not this look as if desire were the operating cause, which induces them to unite their labours to construct the one and provide the other? Their nests contain a numerous family of helpless brood. Does not love here seem to urge them to that exemplary and fond attention, and those unremitted and indefatigable exertions manifested by the whole community for the benefit of these dear objects? Is it not also evidenced by their general and singular attachment to their females, by their mutual caresses, by their feeding each other, by their apparent sympathy with suffering individuals and endeavours to relieve them, by their readiness to help those that are in difficulty, and finally by their sports and assemblies for relaxation? That fear produces its influence upon them seems no less evident, when we see them, agitated by the approach of enemies, endeavour to remove what is most dear to them beyond their reach, unite their efforts to repel their attacks, and to construct works of defence. They appear to have besides a common language; for they possess the faculty, by significative gestures and sounds, of communicating their wants and ideas to each other[35].

There are, however, the following great differences between human societies and those of insects. Man is susceptible of individual attachment, which forms the basis of his happiness, and the source of his purest and dearest enjoyments:--whereas the love of insects seems to be a kind of instinctive patriotism that is extended to the whole community, never distinguishing individuals, unless, as in the instance of the female bee, connected with that great object.

Man also, endowed with reason, forms a judgement from circumstances, and by a variety of means can attain the same end. Besides the language of nature, gestures, and exclamations, which the passions produce, he is gifted with the divine faculty of speech, and can express his thoughts by articulate sounds or artificial language.--Not so our social insects. Every species has its peculiar mode of proceeding, to which it adheres as to the law of its nature, never deviating but under the control of imperious circumstances; for in particular instances, as you will see when I come to treat of their instincts, they know how to vary, though not very materially, from the usual mode[36]. But they never depart, like man, from the general system; and, in common with the rest of the animal kingdom, they have no articulate language.

Human associations, under the direction of reason and revelation, are also formed with higher views,--I mean as to government, morals, and religion:--with respect to the last of these, the social insects of course can have nothing to do, except that by their wonderful proceedings they give man an occasion of glorifying his great Creator; but in their instincts, extraordinary as it may seem, they exhibit a semblance of the two former, as will abundantly appear in the course of our correspondence.

I shall not detain you longer by prefatory remarks from the amusing scene to which I am eager to introduce you; but the following observations of M. P. Huber on this subject are so just and striking, that I cannot refrain from copying them.

"The history of insects that live in solitude consists of their generation, their peculiar habits, the metamorphoses they undergo; their manner of life under each successive form; the stratagems for the attack of their enemies, and the skill with which they construct their habitation: but that of insects which form numerous societies, is not confined to some remarkable proceedings, to some peculiar talent: it offers new relations, which arise from common interest; from the equality or superiority of rank; from the part which each member supports in the society;--and all these relations suppose a connexion between the different individuals of which it consists, that can scarcely exist but by the intervention of language: for such may be called every mode of expressing their wishes, their wants, and even their ideas, if that name may be given to the impulses of instinct. It would be difficult to explain in any other way that concurrence of all wills to one end, and that species of harmony which the whole of their institution exhibits."

The great end of the societies of insects being the rapid multiplication of the species, Providence has employed extraordinary means to secure the fulfilment of this object, by creating a particular order of individuals in each society, which, freed from sexual pursuits, may give themselves wholly to labour, and thus absolve the females from every employment but that of furnishing the society from time to time with a sufficient supply of eggs to keep up the population to its proper standard. In the case of the _Termites_, the office of working for the society, as these insects belong to an order whose metamorphosis is _semi-complete_, devolves upon the larvæ; the neuters, unless these should prove to be the larvæ of males, being the soldiers of the community.

From this circumstance perfect societies may be divided into two classes; the first including those whose workers are _larvæ_, and the second those whose workers are _neuters_[37]. The white ants belong to the former of these classes, and the social _Hymenoptera_ to the latter.

Before I begin with the history of the societies of white ants, I must notice a remark that has been made applying to societies in general--that numbers are essential to the full development of the instinct of social animals. This has been observed by Bonnet with respect to the beaver[38]; by Reaumur of the hive-bee; and by M. P. Huber of the humble-bee[39]. Amongst hymenopterous social insects, however, the observation seems not universally applicable, but only under particular circumstances; for in incipient societies of ants, humble-bees, and wasps, one female lays the foundations of them at first by herself; and the first brood of neuters that is hatched is very small.

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I have on a former occasion given you some account of the devastation produced by the white ants, or _Termites_, the species of which constitute the first class of perfect societies[40]; I shall now relate to you some further particulars of their history, which will, I hope, give you a better opinion of them.

The majority of these animals are natives of tropical countries, though two species are indigenous to Europe; one of which, thought to have been imported, is come so near to us as Bourdeaux. The fullest account hitherto given of their history is that of Mr. Smeathman, in the _Philosophical Transactions_ for 1781; which, since it has in many particulars been confirmed by the observations of succeeding naturalists, though in some things he was evidently mistaken, I shall abridge for you, correcting him where he appears to be in error, and adding from Latreille, and the MS. of a French naturalist resident on the spot, kindly furnished by Professor Hooker, what they have observed with respect to those of Bourdeaux and Ceylon. The white ants, though they belong to the _Neuroptera_ order, borrow their instinct from the hymenopterous social tribes, and in conjunction with the ants (_Formica_) connect the two orders. Their societies consist of five different descriptions of individuals--workers or larvæ--nymphs or pupæ--neuters or soldiers--males and females.

1. The _workers_ or larvæ, answering to the hymenopterous neuters, are the most numerous and at the same time most active part of the community; upon whom devolves the office of erecting and repairing the buildings, collecting provisions, attending upon the female, conveying the eggs when laid to what Smeathman calls the nurseries, and feeding the young larvæ till they are old enough to take care of themselves. They are distinguished from the soldiers by their diminutive size, by their round heads and shorter mandibles.

2. The _nymphs_ or pupæ. These were not noticed by Smeathman, who mistook the neuters for them:--they differ in nothing from the larvæ, and probably are equally active, except that they have rudiments of wings, or rather the wings folded up in cases (_Pterothecæ_). They were first observed by Latreille; nor did they escape the author of the MS. above alluded to, who mistook them for a different kind of larvæ.

3. The _neuters_, erroneously called by Smeathman pupæ. These are much less numerous than the workers, bearing the proportion of one to one hundred, and exceeding them greatly in bulk. They are also distinguishable by their long and large head, armed with very long subulate mandibles. Their office is that of sentinels; and when the nest is attacked, to them is committed the task of defending it. These neuters are quite unlike those in the _Hymenoptera_ perfect societies, which seem to be a kind of abortive females, and there is nothing analogous to them in any other department of Entomology.

4. and 5. _Males_ and _females_, or the insects arrived at their state of perfection, and capable of continuing the species. There is only one of each in every separate society; they are exempted from all participation in the labours and employments occupying the rest of the community, that they may be wholly devoted to the furnishing of constant accessions to the population of the colony. Though at their first disclosure from the pupa they have four wings, like the female ants they soon cast them; but they may then be distinguished from the blind larvæ, pupæ, and neuters, by their large and prominent eyes[41].

The first establishment of a colony of Termites takes place in the following manner. In the evening, soon after the first tornado, which at the latter end of the dry season proclaims the approach of the ensuing rains, these animals, having attained to their perfect state, in which they are furnished and adorned with two pair of wings, emerge from their clay-built citadels by myriads and myriads to seek their fortune. Borne on these ample wings, and carried by the wind, they fill the air, entering the houses, extinguishing the lights, and even sometimes being driven on board the ships that are not far from the shore. The next morning they are discovered covering the surface of the earth and waters: deprived of the wings which before enabled them to avoid their numerous enemies, and which are only calculated to carry them a few hours, and looking like large maggots; from the most active, industrious, and rapacious, they are now become the most helpless and cowardly beings in nature, and the prey of innumerable enemies, to the smallest of which they make not the least resistance. Insects, especially ants, which are always on the hunt for them, leaving no place unexplored; birds, reptiles, beasts, and even man himself, look upon this event as their harvest, and, as you have been told before, make them their food; so that scarcely a single pair in many millions get into a place of safety, fulfill the first law of nature, and lay the foundation of a new community. At this time they are seen running upon the ground, the male after the female, and sometimes two chasing one, and contending with great eagerness, regardless of the innumerable dangers that surround them, who shall win the prize.

The workers, who are continually prowling about in their covered ways, occasionally meet with one of these pairs, and, being impelled by their instinct, pay them homage, and they are elected as it were to be king and queen, or rather father and mother, of a new colony[42]: all that are not so fortunate, inevitably perish; and, considering the infinite host of their enemies, probably in the course of the following day. The workers, as soon as this election takes place, begin to inclose their new rulers in a small chamber of clay, before described[43], suited to their size, the entrances to which are only large enough to admit themselves and the neuters, but much too small for the royal pair to pass through;--so that their state of royalty is a state of confinement, and so continues during the remainder of their existence. 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 industrious larvæ, 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[44]. 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 20,000 or 30,000 workers. This part, 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 remarkable for its peristaltic motion, (in this resembling the female ant[45],) which, like the undulations of water, produces a perpetual and successive rise and fall over the whole surface of the abdomen, 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[46]. As these females live two years in their perfect state, how astonishing must be the number produced in that time!

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 till they are able to shift for themselves.--One remarkable circumstance 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 is probably a species of _Mucor_; and by Mr. König, who found them also in nests of an East-Indian species of Termes, is conjectured to be the food of the larvæ.

The royal cell has besides some soldiers in it, a kind of body guard to the royal pair that inhabit it; and the surrounding apartments contain always 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 the last distress.

The manner in which the Termites feed the young brood, before they commence their active life and are admitted to share in the labours of the nest, has not, as far as I know, been recorded by any writer: I shall therefore leave them in their nurseries, and introduce you to the bustling scene which these creatures exhibit in their first state after they are become useful. To do this, in vain should I carry you to one of their nests--you would scarcely see a single one stirring--though, perhaps, under your feet there would be millions going and returning by a thousand different ways. Unless I possessed the power of Asmodeus in _Le Diable Boiteux_, of showing you their houses and covered ways with their roofs removed, you would return home as wise as you came; for these little busy creatures are taught by Providence always to work under cover. If they have to travel over a rock or up a tree, they vault with a coping of earth the route they mean to pursue, and they form subterranean paths and tunnels, some of a diameter wider than the bore of a large cannon, on all sides from their habitation to their various objects of attack; or which sloping down (for they cannot well mount a surface quite perpendicular) penetrate to the depth of three or four feet under their nests into the earth, till they arrive at a soil proper to be used in the erection of their buildings. Were they, indeed, to expose themselves, the race would soon be annihilated by their innumerable enemies. This circumstance has deceived the author of the MS. account of those in Ceylon, who, speaking of the nests of these insects in that island, which he describes as twelve feet high, observes, that "they may be considered as a large city, which contains a great number of houses, and these houses an infinite number of cells or apartments:----these cells appear to me to communicate with each other, but not the houses. I have convinced myself, by bringing together the broken walls of one of the cavities of the nest or cone, that it does not communicate with any other, nor _with the exterior_ of the cone--a very curious circumstance, which I will not undertake to explain. Other cavities communicate by a very narrow tunnel." By not looking for subterranean communications, he was probably led into this error.

You have before heard of their diligence in building. Does any accident happen to their various structures, or are they dislodged from any of their covered ways, they are still more active and expeditious in repairing. Getting out of sight as soon as possible,--and they run as fast or faster than any insect of their size,--in a single night they will restore a gallery of three or four yards in length. If, attacking the nest, you divide it in halves, leaving the royal chamber, and thus lay open thousands of apartments, all will be shut up with their sheets of clay by the next morning;--nay, even if the whole be demolished, provided the king and the queen be left, every interstice between the ruins, at which either cold or wet can possibly enter, will be covered, and in a year the building will be raised nearly to its pristine size and grandeur.

Besides building and repairing, a great deal of their time is occupied in making necessary alterations in their mansion and its approaches. The royal presence-chamber, as the female increases in size, must be gradually enlarged, the nurseries must be removed to a greater distance, the chambers and exterior of the nest receive daily accessions to provide for a daily increasing population--and the direction of their covered ways must often be varied, when the old stock of provision is exhausted and new discovered.

The collection of provisions for the use of the colony is another employment, which necessarily calls for incessant attention: these to the naked eye appear like raspings of wood;--and they are, as you have seen, great destroyers of timber, whether wrought or unwrought:--but when examined by the microscope, they are found to consist chiefly of gums and the inspissated juices of plants, which, formed into little masses, are stored up in magazines made of clay.

When any one is bold enough to attack their nest and make a breach in its walls, the labourers, who are incapable of fighting, retire within, and give place to another description of its inhabitants, whose office it is to defend the fortress when assailed by enemies:--these, as observed before, are the neuters or soldiers. If the breach be made in a slight part of the building, one of these comes out to reconnoitre; he then retires and gives the alarm. Two or three others next appear, scrambling as fast as they can one after the other;--to these succeed a large body, who rush forth with as much speed as the breach will permit, their numbers continually increasing during the attack. It is not easy to describe the rage and fury by which these diminutive heroes seem actuated. In their haste they frequently miss their hold, and tumble down the sides of their hill: they soon, however, recover themselves, and, being blind, bite every thing they run against. If the attack proceeds, the bustle and agitation increase to a ten-fold degree, and their fury is raised to its highest pitch. Wo to him whose hands or legs they can come at! for they will make their fanged jaws meet at the very first stroke, drawing as much blood as will counterpoise their whole body, and never quitting their hold, even though they are pulled limb from limb. The naked legs of the Negroes expose them frequently to this injury; and the stockings of the European are not sufficient to defend him.

On the other hand, if, after the first attack, you get a little out of the way, giving them no further interruption, supposing the assailant of their citadel is gone beyond their reach, in less than half an hour they will retire into the nest; and before they have all entered, you will see the labourers in motion, hastening in various directions towards the breach, every one carrying in his mouth a mass of mortar half as big as his body[47], ready tempered:--this mortar is made of the finer parts of the gravel, which they probably select in the subterranean pits or passages before described, which, worked up to a proper consistence, hardens to the solid substance resembling stone, of which their nests are constructed. As fast as they come up, each sticks its burthen upon the breach; and this is done with so much regularity and dispatch, that although thousands, nay millions, are employed, they never appear to embarrass or interrupt one another. By the united labours of such an infinite host of creatures the wall soon rises and the breach is repaired.

While the labourers are thus employed, almost all the soldiers have retired quite out of sight, except here and there one, who saunters about amongst them, but never assists in the work. One in particular places himself close to the wall which they are building; and turning himself leisurely on all sides, as if to survey the proceedings, appears to act the part of an overseer of the works. Every now and then, at the interval of a minute or two, by lifting up his head and striking with his forceps upon the wall of the nest, he makes a particular noise, which is answered by a loud hiss from all the labourers, and appears to be a signal for dispatch; for, every time it is heard, they may be seen to redouble their pace, and apply to their work with increased diligence. Renew the attack, and this amusing scene will be repeated:--in rush the labourers, all disappearing in a few seconds, and out march the military as numerous and vindictive as before.--When all is once more quiet, the busy labourers reappear, and resume their work, and the soldiers vanish. Repeat the experiment a hundred times, and the same will always be the result;--you will never find, be the peril or emergency ever so great, that one order attempts to fight, or the other to work.

You have seen how solicitous the Termites are to move and work under cover and concealed from observation; this, however, is not always the case;--there is a species larger than _T. bellicosus_, whose proceedings I have been principally describing, which Mr. Smeathman calls the marching Termes (_Termes Viarum_). He was once passing through a thick forest, when on a sudden a loud hiss, like that of serpents, struck him with alarm. The next step produced a repetition of the sound, which he then recognised to be that of white ants; yet he was surprised at seeing none of their hills or covered ways. Following the noise, to his great astonishment and delight he saw an army of these creatures emerging from a hole in the ground; their number was prodigious, and they marched with the utmost celerity. When they had proceeded about a yard they divided into two columns, chiefly composed of labourers, about fifteen abreast, following each other in close order, and going straight forward. Here and there was seen a soldier, carrying his vast head with apparent difficulty, and looking like an ox in a flock of sheep, who marched on in the same manner. At the distance of a foot or two from the columns many other soldiers were to be seen, standing still or pacing about as if upon the look-out, lest some enemy should suddenly surprise their unwarlike comrades;--other soldiers, which was the most extraordinary and amusing part of the scene, having mounted some plants and placed themselves on the points of their leaves, elevated from ten to fifteen inches from the ground, hung over the army marching below, and by striking their forceps upon the leaf, produced at intervals the noise before mentioned. To this signal the whole army returned a hiss, and obeyed it by increasing their pace. The soldiers at these signal-stations sat quite still during the intervals of silence, except now and then making a slight turn of the head, and seemed as solicitous to keep their posts as regular sentinels. The two columns of this army united after continuing separate for twelve or fifteen paces, having in no part been above three yards asunder, and then descended into the earth by two or three holes. Mr. Smeathman continued watching them for above an hour, during which time their numbers appeared neither to increase nor diminish:--the soldiers, however, who quitted the line of march and acted as sentinels, became much more numerous before he quitted the spot. The larvæ and neuters of this species are furnished with eyes.

The societies of _Termes lucifugus_, discovered by Latreille at Bourdeaux, are very numerous; but instead of erecting artificial nests, they make their lodgement in the trunks of pines and oaks, where the branches diverge from the tree. They eat the wood the nearest the bark, or the alburnum, 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 furnished with an acid of a very penetrating odour, which perhaps is useful to them for softening the wood[48]. The soldiers in these societies are as about one to twenty-five of the labourers[49]. The anonymous author of the observations on the Termites of Ceylon seems to have discovered a sentry-box in his nests. "I 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."

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I hope this account has reconciled you in some degree to the destructive Termites:--I shall next introduce you to social insects, concerning most of which you have probably conceived a more favourable opinion;--I mean those which constitute the second class of perfect societies, whose workers are not larvæ, but neuters. These all belong to the _Hymenoptera_ order of Linné:--there are four kinds of insects in this order, (which you will find as fertile in the instructors of mankind, as you have seen it to be in our benefactors,) that, varying considerably from each other in their proceedings as social animals, separately merit your attention: namely, ants, wasps and hornets, humble-bees, and the hive-bee. I begin with the first.

Full of interesting traits as are the history and economy of the white-ants, and however earnestly they may induce you to wish you could be a spectator of them, yet they scarcely exceed those of an industrious tribe of insects, which are constantly passing under our eye. The _ant_ has attracted universal notice, and been celebrated from the earliest ages, both by sacred and profane writers, as a pattern of prudence, foresight, wisdom, and diligence. Upon Solomon's testimony in their favour I have enlarged before; and for those of other ancient writers, I must refer you to the learned Bochart, who has collected them in his _Hierozoicon_.

In reading what the ancients say on this subject, we must be careful, however, to separate truth from error, or we shall attribute much more to ants than of right belongs to them. Who does not smile when he reads of ants that emulate the wolf in size, the dog in shape, the lion in its feet, and the leopard in its skin; ants, whose employment is to mine for gold, and from whose vengeance the furtive Indian is constrained to fly on the swift camel's back[50]? But when we find the writers of all nations and ages unite in affirming, that, having deprived it of the power of vegetating, ants store up grain in their nests, we feel disposed to give larger credit to an assertion, which, at first sight, seems to savour more of fact than of fable, and does not attribute more sagacity and foresight to these insects than in other instances they are found to possess. Writers in general, therefore, who have considered this subject, and some even of very late date, have taken it for granted that the ancients were correct in this notion. But when observers of nature began to examine the manners and economy of these creatures more narrowly, it was found, at least with respect to the European species of ants, that no such hoards of grain were made by them, and, in fact, that they had no magazines in their nests in which provisions of any kind were stored up. It was therefore surmised that the ancients, observing them carry about their _pupæ_, which in shape, size, and colour, not a little resemble a grain of corn, and the ends of which they sometimes pull open to let out the inclosed insect, mistook the one for the other, and this action for depriving the grain of the corculum. Mr. Gould, our countryman, was one of the first historians of the ant, who discovered that they did not store up corn; and since his time naturalists have generally subscribed to that opinion.

Till the manners of exotic ants are more accurately explored, it would, however, be rash to affirm that no ants have magazines of provisions; for although, during the cold of our winters in this country, they remain in a state of torpidity, and have no need of food, yet in warmer regions, during the rainy seasons, when they are probably confined to their nests, a store of provisions may be necessary for them. Even in northern climates, against wet seasons, they may provide in this way for their sustenance and that of the young brood, which, as Mr. Smeathman observes, are very voracious, and cannot bear to be long deprived of their food; else why do ants carry worms, living insects, and many other such things into their nests? Solomon's lesson to the sluggard has been generally adduced as a strong confirmation of the ancient opinion: it can, however, only relate to the species of a warm climate, the habits of which, as I have just observed, are probably different from those of a cold one;--so that his words, as commonly interpreted, may be perfectly correct and consistent with nature, and yet be not at all applicable to the species that are indigenous to Europe. But I think, if Solomon's words are properly considered, it will be found that this interpretation has been fathered upon them, rather than fairly deduced from them. He does not affirm that the ant which he proposes to his sluggard as an example, laid up in her magazines stores of grain: "Go to the ant thou sluggard, consider her ways and be wise; which, having neither captain, overseer, nor ruler, prepares her bread in the summer, and gathers her food in the harvest." These words may very well be interpreted simply to mean, that the ant, with commendable prudence and foresight, makes use of the proper seasons to collect a supply of provision sufficient for her purposes. There is not a word in them implying that she stores up grain or other provision. She prepares her bread, and gathers her food,--namely, such food as is suited to her,--in summer and harvest,--that is, when it is most plentiful,--and thus shows her wisdom and prudence by using the advantages offered to her. The words thus interpreted, which they may be without any violence, will apply to our European species as well as to those that are not indigenous.

I shall now bid farewell to the ancients, and proceed to lay before you what the observations of modern authors have enabled me to add to the history of ants:--the principal of these are Leeuwenhoek, Swammerdam (who was the first that had recourse to artificial means for observing their proceedings), Linné, Bonnet, and especially the illustrious Swedish entomologist De Geer. Gould also, who, though no systematical naturalist, was a man of sense and observation, has thrown great light upon the history of ants, and anticipated several of what are accounted the discoveries of more modern writers on this subject[51]. Latreille's _Natural History of Ants_ is likewise extremely valuable, not only as giving a systematic arrangement and descriptions of the species, but as concentrating the accounts of preceding authors, and adding several interesting facts _ex proprio penu_. The great historiographer of ants, however, is M. P. Huber; who has lately published a most admirable and interesting work upon them, in which he has far outstripped all his predecessors.--Such are the sources from which the following account of ants is principally drawn, intermixed with which you will find some occasional observations,--which your partiality to your friend may, perhaps, induce you to think not wholly devoid of interest,--that it has been my fortune to make.

The societies of ants, as also of other _Hymenoptera_, differ from those of the Termites in having inactive larvæ and pupæ, the neuters or workers combining in themselves both the military and civil functions. Besides the helpless larvæ and pupæ, which have no locomotive powers, these societies consist of females, males, and workers. The office of the _females_, at their first exclusion distinguished by a pair of ample wings, (which however, as you have heard, they soon cast,) is the foundation of new colonies, and the furnishing of a constant supply of eggs for the maintenance of the population in the old nests as well as in the new. These are usually the least numerous part of the community[52]. The office of the _males_, which are also winged, and at the time of swarming are extremely numerous, is merely the impregnation of the females: after the season for this is passed, they die. Upon the _workers_[53] devolves, except in nascent colonies, all the work, as well as the defence of the community, of which they are the most numerous portion. In some societies of ants the workers are of two dimensions.--In the nests of _F. rufa_ and _flava_ such were observed by Gould, the size of one exceeding that of the other about one third[54]. (In my specimens, the large workers of _F. rufa_ are nearly three times, and of _F. flava_ twice, the size of the small ones.) All were equally engaged in the labours of the colony. Large workers were also noticed by M. P. Huber in the nests of _Polyergus rufescens_[55], but he could not ascertain their office.

Having introduced you to the individuals of which the associations of ants consist, I shall now advert to the principal events of their history, relating first the fates of the _males_ and _females_. In the warm days that occur from the end of July to the beginning of September, and sometimes later, the habitations of the various species of ants may be seen to swarm with winged insects, which are the males and females, preparing to quit for ever the scene of their nativity and education. Every thing is in motion--and the silver wings contrasted with the jet bodies which compose the animated mass, add a degree of splendour to the interesting scene. The bustle increases, till at length the males rise, as it were by a general impulse, into the air, and the females accompany them. The whole swarm alternately rises and falls with a slow movement to the height of about ten feet, the males flying obliquely with a rapid zigzag motion, and the females, though they follow the general movement of the column, appearing suspended in the air, like balloons, seemingly with no individual motion, and having their heads turned towards the wind.

Sometimes the swarms of a whole district unite their infinite myriads, and, seen at a distance, produce an effect resembling the flashing of an aurora borealis. Rising with incredible velocity in distinct columns, they soar above the clouds. Each column looks like a kind of slender net-work, and has a tremulous undulating motion, which has been observed to be produced by the regular alternate rising and falling just alluded to. The noise emitted by myriads and myriads of these creatures does not exceed the hum of a single wasp. The slightest zephyr disperses them; and if in their progress they chance to be over your head, if you walk slowly on, they will accompany you, and regulate their motions by yours. The females continue sailing majestically in the centre of these numberless males, who are all candidates for their favour, each till some fortunate lover darts upon her, and, as the Roman youth did the Sabine virgins, drags his bride from the sportive crowd, and the nuptials are consummated in mid-air; though sometimes the union takes place on the summit of plants, but rarely in the nests[56]. After this _danse de l'amour_ is celebrated, the males disappear, probably dying, or becoming, with many of the females, the prey of birds or fish[57]; for, since they do not return to the nest, they cannot be destroyed, as some have supposed, like the drone bees, by the neuters. That many, both males and females, become the prey of fish, I am enabled to assert from my own observation.--In the beginning of August 1812, I was going up the Orford river in Suffolk, in a row-boat, in the evening, when my attention was caught by an infinite number of winged ants, both males and females, at which the fish were every where darting, floating alive upon the surface of the water. While passing the river, these had probably been precipitated into it, either by the wind, or by a heavy shower which had just fallen. And M. Huber after the same event observed the earth strewed with females that had lost their wings, all of which could not form colonies[58].

Captain Haverfield, R. N. gave me an account of an extraordinary appearance of ants observed by him in the Medway, in the autumn of 1814, when he was first-lieutenant of the Clorinde--which is confirmed by the following letter addressed by the surgeon of that ship, now Dr. Bromley, to Mr. MacLeay:

"In September 1814, being on the deck of the hulk to the Clorinde, my attention was drawn to the water by the first-lieutenant (Haverfield) observing there was something black floating down with the tide. On looking with a glass, I discovered they were insects.--The boat was sent, and brought a bucket full of them on board;--they proved to be a large species of ant, and extended from the upper part of Salt-pan reach out towards the Great Nore, a distance of five or six miles. The column appeared to be in breadth eight or ten feet, and in height about six inches, which I suppose must have been from their resting one upon another." Purchas seems to have witnessed a similar phenomenon on shore. "Other sorts (of ants)," says he, "there are many, of which some become winged and fill the air with swarms, which sometimes happens in England. On Bartholomew 1613 I was in the island of Foulness on our Essex shore, where were such clouds of these flying pismires, that we could no where fly from them, but they filled our clothes; yea the floors of some houses where they fell were in a manner covered with a black carpet of creeping ants; which they say drown themselves about that time of the year in the sea[59]."

These ants were winged:--whence, in the first instance here related, this immense column came was not ascertained. From the numbers here agglomerated, one would think that all the ant-hills of the counties of Kent and Surrey could scarcely have furnished a sufficient number of males and females to form it.

When Colonel Sir Augustus Frazer, of the Horse Artillery, was surveying on the 6th of October 1813 the scene of the battle of the Pyrenees from the summit of the mountain called Pena de Aya, or Les Quatre Couronnes, he and his friends were enveloped by a swarm of ants, so numerous as entirely to intercept their view, so that they were glad to remove to another station, in order to get rid of them.

The females that escape from the injury of the elements and their various enemies, become the founders of new colonies, doing all the work, as I have related in a former letter, that is usually done by the neuters[60]. M. P. Huber has found incipient colonies, in which were only a few workers engaged with their mother in the care of a small number of larvæ; and M. Perrot, his friend, once discovered a small nest, occupied by a solitary female, who was attending upon four pupæ only. Such is the foundation and first establishment of those populous nations of ants with which we every where meet.

But though the majority of females produced in a nest probably thus desert it, all are not allowed this liberty. The prudent workers are taught by their instinct that the existence of their community depends upon the presence of a sufficient number of females. Some therefore that are fecundated in or near the spot they forcibly detain, pulling off their wings, and keeping them prisoners till they are ready to lay their eggs, or are reconciled to their fate. De Geer in a nest of _F. rufa_ observed that the workers compelled some females that were come out of the nest, to re-enter it[61]; and from M. P. Huber we learn that, being seized at the moment of fecundation, they are conducted into the interior of the formicary, when they become entirely dependent upon the neuters, who hanging pertinaciously to each leg prevent their going out, but at the same time attend upon them with the greatest care, feeding them regularly, and conducting them where the temperature is suitable to them, but never quitting them a single moment. By degrees these females become reconciled to their fate, and lose all desire of making their escape;--their abdomen enlarges, and they are no longer detained as prisoners, yet each is still attended by a body-guard--a single ant, which always accompanies her, and prevents her wants.--Its station is remarkable, it being mounted upon her abdomen, with its posterior legs upon the ground. These sentinels are constantly relieved: and to watch the moment when the female begins the important work of oviposition, and carry off the eggs, of which she lays four or five thousand or more in the course of the year, seems to be their principal office.

When the female is acknowledged as a mother, the workers begin to pay her a homage very similar to that which the bees render to their queen. All press round her, offer her food, conduct her by her mandibles through the difficult or steep passages of the formicary; nay, they sometimes even carry her about their city;--she is then suspended upon their jaws, the ends of which are crossed; and, being coiled up like the tongue of a butterfly, she is packed so close as to incommode the carrier but little. When she sets her down, others surround and caress her, one after another tapping her on the head with their antennæ. "In whatever apartment," says Gould, "a queen condescends to be present, she commands obedience and respect. An universal gladness spreads itself through the whole cell, which is expressed by particular acts of joy and exultation. They have a particular way of skipping, leaping, and standing upon their hind-legs, and prancing with the others. These frolics they make use of, both to congratulate each other when they meet, and to show their regard for the queen; some of them gently walk over her, others dance round her; she is generally encircled with a cluster of attendants, who, if you separate them from her, soon collect themselves into a body, and inclose her in the midst[62]." Nay, even if she dies, as if they were unwilling to believe it, they continue sometimes for months the same attentions to her, and treat her with the same courtly formality as if she were alive, and they will brush her and lick her incessantly[63].

This homage paid by the workers to their queens, according to Gould, is temporary and local;--when she has laid eggs in any cell, their attentions, he observed, seemed to relax, and she became unsettled and uneasy. In the summer months she is to be met with in various apartments in the colony; and eggs also are to be seen in several places, which induced him to believe that, having deposited a parcel in one, she retires to another for the same purpose, thus frequently changing her situation and attendants. As there are always a number of lodgements void of eggs but full of ants, she is never at a loss for an agreeable station and submissive retinue: and by the time she has gone her rounds in this manner, the eggs first laid are brought to perfection, and her old attendants are glad to receive her again. Yet this inattention after oviposition is not invariable; the female and neuters sometimes unite together in the same cell after the eggs are laid. On this occasion the workers divide their attention; and if you disturb them, some will run to the defence of their queen, as well as of the eggs, which last, however, are the great objects of their solicitude. This statement differs somewhat from M. Huber's; but different species vary in their instincts, which will account for this and similar dissonances in authors who have observed their proceedings. Mr. Gould also noticed but very few females in ant-nests, sometimes only one; but M. Huber, who had better opportunities, found several, which he says live very peaceably together, showing none of that spirit of rivalry so remarkable in the queen bee.

And here I must close my narrative of the life and adventures of male and female ants; but, as it will be followed by a history of the still more interesting proceedings of the _workers_, I think you will not regret the exchange. I shall show these to you in many different views, under each of which you will find fresh reason to admire them and their wonderful instincts. My only fear will be lest you should think the picture too highly coloured, and deem it incredible that creatures so minute should so far exceed the larger animals in wisdom, foresight, and sagacity, and make so near an approach in these respects to man himself.--My facts, however, are derived from authorities so respectable, that I think they will do away any bias of this kind that you may feel in your mind[64].

I need not here repeat what I have said in a former letter concerning the exemplary attention paid by these kind foster-mothers to the young brood of their colonies; nor shall I enlarge upon the building and nature of their habitations, which have been already noticed[65]:--but, without either of these, I have matter enough to fill the rest of this letter with interesting traits, while I endeavour to teach you their language, to develop their affections and passions, and to delineate their virtues;--while I show them to you when engaged in war, and enable you to accompany them both in their military expeditions and in their emigrations,--while I make you a witness of their indefatigable industry and incessant labours,--or invite you to be present, during their hours of relaxation, at their sports and amusements.

That ants, though they are mute animals, have the means of communicating to each other information of various occurrences, and use a kind of language which is mutually understood, will appear evident from the following facts.

If those at the surface of a nest are alarmed, it is wonderful in how short a time the alarm spreads through the whole nest. It runs from quarter to quarter; the greatest inquietude seems to possess the community; and they carry with all possible dispatch their treasures, the larvæ and pupæ, down to the lowest apartments. Amongst those species of ants that do not go much from home, sentinels seem to be stationed at the avenues of their city. Disturbing once the little heaps of earth thrown up at the entrances into the nest of _F. flava_, which is of this description, I was struck by observing a single ant immediately come out, as if to see what was the matter, and this three separate times.

The _F. herculanea_ inhabits the trunks of hollow trees on the continent, for it has not yet been found in England, upon which they are often passing to and fro. M. Huber observed, that when he disturbed those that were at the greatest distance from the rest, they ran towards them, and, striking their head against them, communicated their cause of fear or anger,--that these, in their turn, conveyed in the same way the intelligence to others, till the whole colony was in a ferment, those neuters which were within the tree running out in crowds to join their companions in the defence of their habitation. The same signals that excited the courage of the neuters produced fear in the males and females, which, as soon as the news of the danger was thus communicated to them, retreated into the tree as to an asylum.