Chapter IX: Letter XX: Societies of Insects (1)

PERFECT SOCIETIES CONCLUDED.

Having given you a history sufficiently ample of the queen or female bee, I shall next add some account of the _drone_ or _male bee_; but this will not detain you long, since, "to be born and die" is nearly the sum total of their story. Much abuse, from the earliest times, has been lavished upon this description of the inhabitants of the hive, and their indolence and gluttony have become proverbial.--Indeed, at first sight, it seems extraordinary that seven or eight hundred individuals should be supported at the public expense, and to common appearance do nothing all the while that may be thought to earn their living. But the more we look into nature, the more we discover the truth of that common axiom,--that nothing is made in vain.--Creative Wisdom cannot be caught at fault. Therefore, where we do not at present perceive the reasons of things, instead of cavilling at what we do not understand, we ought to adore in silence, and wait patiently till the veil is removed which, in any particular instance, conceals its final cause from our sight. The mysteries of nature are gradually opened to us, one truth making way for the discovery of another: but still there will always be in nature, as well as in revelation, even in those things that fall under our daily observation, mysteries to exercise our faith and humility: so that we may always reply to the caviller,--"Thine own things and those that are grown up with thee hast thou not known; how then shall thy vessel comprehend the way of the Highest?"

Various have been the conjectures of naturalists, even in very recent times, with respect to the fertilization of the eggs of the bee. Some have supposed,--and the number of males seemed to countenance the supposition,--that this was effected after they were deposited in the cells. Of this opinion Maraldi seems to have been the author, and it was adopted by Mr. Debraw of Cambridge, who asserts that he has seen the smaller males (those that are occasionally produced in cells usually appropriated to workers) introduce their abdomen into cells containing eggs, and fertilize them; and that the eggs so treated proved fertile, while others that were not remained sterile. The common or large drones, which form the bulk of the male population of the hive, could not be generally destined to this office, since their abdomen, on account of its size, could only be introduced into male and royal cells. Bonnet, however, saw some motions of one of these drones, which, while it passed by those that were empty, appeared to strike with its abdomen the mouth of the cells containing eggs[199]. Swammerdam thought that the female was impregnated by effluvia which issued from the male[200]. Reaumur, from some proceedings that he witnessed, was convinced that impregnation took place according to the usual law of nature, and, as he supposed, within the hive[201]. This opinion Huber has confirmed by indubitable proofs; but he further discovered that these animals pair abroad, in the air, during the flight of the queen: a fact which renders a large number of males necessary, to ensure her impregnation in due time to lay eggs that will produce workers[202]. Huber also observed those appearances which induced Debraw to adopt the opinion I mentioned just now, and was at first disposed to think them real; but afterwards, upon a nearer inspection, he discovered that it was an illusion caused by the reflection of the rays of light[203].

In fine weather the drones, during the warmest part of the day, take their flights; and it is then that they pair with the queen in mid air, the result being invariably the death of the drone. No one has yet discovered, unless the proceedings observed by Debraw and Bonnet may be so interpreted, that when in the hive they take any share in the business of it, their great employment within doors being to eat. Their life however is of very short duration, the eggs that produce drones being laid in the course of April and May, and their destruction being usually accomplished in the months of July and August. The bees then, as M. Huber observes, chase them about, and pursue them to the bottom of the hives, where they assemble in crowds. At the same time numerous carcases of drones may be seen on the ground before the hives. Hence he conjectured, though he never could detect them engaged in this work upon the combs, that they were stung to death by the workers. To ascertain how their death was occasioned, he caused a table to be glazed, on which he placed six hives, and under this table he employed the patient and indefatigable Burnens, who was to him instead of eyes, to watch their proceedings. On the fourth of July this accurate observer saw the massacre going on in all the hives at the same time, and attended by the same circumstances. The table was crowded with workers, who, apparently in great rage, darted upon the drones as soon as they arrived at the bottom of the hive seizing them by their antennæ, their legs, and their wings; and killing them by violent strokes of their sting, which they generally inserted between the segments of the abdomen. The moment this fearful weapon entered their body, the poor helpless creatures expanded their wings and expired. After this, as if fearful that they were not sufficiently dispatched, the bees repeated their strokes, so that they often found it difficult to extricate their sting. On the following day they were equally busy in the work of slaughter; but their fury, their own having perished, was chiefly vented upon those drones, which, after having escaped from the neighbouring hives, had sought refuge with them. Not content with destroying those that were in the perfect state, they attacked also such male pupæ as were left in their cells; and then dragging them forth, sucked the fluid from their bodies and cast them out of the hive[204].

But though in hives containing a queen perfectly fertile (that is, which lays both worker and male eggs,) this is the unhappy fate of the drones; yet in those where the queen only lays male eggs, they are suffered to remain unmolested; and in hives deprived of their queen, they also find a secure asylum[205].

What it is that, in the former instance, excites the fury of the bees against the males, is not easy to discover; but some conjecture may perhaps be formed from the circumstances last related. When only males are produced by the queen, the bees seem aware that something more is wanted, and retain the males; the same is the case when they have no queen; and when one is procured, they appear to know that she would not profit them without the males. Their fury then is connected with their utility: when the queen is impregnated, which lasts for her whole life, as if they knew that the drones could be of no further use, and would only consume their winter stores of provision, they destroy them; which surely is more merciful than expelling them, in which case they must inevitably perish from hunger. But when the queen only produces males, their numbers are not sufficient to cause alarm; and the same reasoning applies to the case when there is no queen.

* * * * *

Having brought the males from their cradle to their untimely grave, and amused you with the little that is known of their uneventful history, I shall now, at last, call you to attend to the proceedings of the _workers_ themselves; and here I am afraid, long as I have detained you, I must still press you to expatiate with me in a more ample field; but the spectacles you will behold during our excursion will repay, I promise you, any delay or trouble it may occasion.

When I consider the proceedings of these little creatures, both in the hive and out of it, they are so numerous and multifarious, that I scarcely know where to begin. You have already, however, heard much of their internal labours, in the care and nurture of the young; the construction of their combs[206]; and their proceedings with respect to their queens and their paramours. It will therefore change the scene a little, if we accompany them in their excursions to collect the various substances of which they have need[207]. On these occasions the principal object of the bees is to furnish themselves with three different materials:--the nectar of flowers, from which they elaborate honey and wax; the pollen or fertilizing dust of the anthers, of which they make what is called bee-bread, serving as food both to old and young; and the resinous substance called by the ancients _Propolis_, _Pissoceros_, &c. used in various ways in rendering the hive secure and giving the finish to the combs. The first of these substances is the pure fluid secreted in the nectaries of flowers, which the length of their tongue enables them to reach in most blossoms. The tongue of a bee, you are to observe, though so long and sometimes so inflated[208], is not a tube through which the honey passes, nor a pump acting by suction, but a real tongue which laps or licks the honey, and passes it down on its upper surface, as we do, to the mouth, which is at its base concealed by the mandibles[209]. It is conveyed by this orifice through the œsophagus into the first stomach, which we call the honey-bag, and which, from being very small, is swelled when full of it to a considerable size. Honey is never found in the second stomach, (which is surrounded with muscular rings, and resembles a cask covered with hoops from one end to the other,) but only in the first: in the latter and the intestines the bee-bread only is discovered. How the wax is secreted, or what vessels are appropriated to that purpose, is not yet ascertained. Huber suspects that a cellular substance, consisting of hexagons, which lines the membrane of the wax-pockets, may be concerned in this operation. This substance he also discovered in humble-bees (which though they make wax have no wax-pockets), occupying all the anterior part or base of the segments[210]. If you wish to see the wax-pockets in the hive-bee, you must press the abdomen so as to cause it to extend itself; you will then find on each of the four intermediate ventral segments, separated by the carina or elevated central part, two trapeziform whitish pockets, of a soft membranaceous texture: on these the laminæ of wax are formed, and they are found upon them in different states, so as to be more or less perceptible. I must here observe that, besides Thorley, who seems to have been the first apiarist that observed these laminæ, Wildman was not ignorant of them, nor of the wax being formed from honey[211]: we must not therefore permit foreigners to appropriate to themselves the whole credit of discoveries that have been made, or at least partially made, by our own countrymen.

Long before Linné had discovered the nectary of flowers, our industrious creatures had made themselves intimate with every form and variety of them; and no botanist, even in this enlightened era of botanical science, can compare with a bee in this respect. The station of these reservoirs, even where the armed sight of science cannot discover it, is in a moment detected by the microscopic eye of this animal.

She has to attend to a double task--to collect materials for bee-bread as well as for honey and wax. Observe a bee that has alighted upon an open flower. The hum produced by the motion of her wings ceases, and her employment begins. In an instant she unfolds her tongue, which before was 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 both to the concave and convex surface of a petal, and wipe them both; and thus by a virtuous theft robs it of all its nectar. All the while this is going on, she keeps herself in a constant vibratory motion. The object of the industrious animal is not, like the more selfish butterfly, to appropriate this treasure to herself. It goes into the honey-bag as into a laboratory, where it is transformed into pure honey; and when she returns to the hive, she regurgitates it in this form into one of the cells appropriated to that purpose; in order that, after tribute is paid from it to the queen, it may constitute a supply of food for the rest of the community.

In collecting honey, bees do not solely confine themselves to flowers, they will sometimes very greedily absorb the sweet juices of fruits: this I have frequently observed with respect to the raspberries in my garden, and have noticed it, as you may recollect, in a former letter[212]. They will also eat sugar, and produce wax from it; but from Huber's observations, it appears not calculated to supply the place of honey in the jelly with which the larvæ are fed[213]. Though the great mass of the food of bees is collected from flowers, they do not wholly confine themselves to a vegetable diet; for, besides the honeyed secretion of the Aphides, the possession of which they will sometimes dispute with the ants[214], upon particular occasions they will eat the eggs of the queen. They are very fond also of the fluid that oozes from the cells of the pupæ, and will suck eagerly all that is fluid in their abdomen after they are destroyed by their rivals[215].--Several flowers that produce much honey they pass by; in some instances, from inability to get at it. Thus, for this reason probably, they do not attempt those of the trumpet-honey-suckle, (_Lonicera sempervirens_,) which, if separated from the germen after they are open, will yield two or three drops of the purest nectar. So that were this shrub cultivated with that view, much honey in its original state might be obtained from a small number of plants. In other cases, it appears to be the poisonous quality of their honey that induces bees to neglect certain flowers. You have doubtless observed the conspicuous white nectaries of the crown imperial, (_Fritillaria imperialis_,) and that they secrete abundance of this fluid. It tempts in vain the passing bee, probably aware of some noxious quality that it possesses. The oleander (_Nerium Oleander_,) yields a honey that proves fatal to thousands of imprudent flies; but our bees, more wise and cautious, avoid it. Occasionally, perhaps, in particular seasons, when flowers are less numerous than common, this instinct of the bees appears to fail them, or to be overpowered by their desire to collect a sufficient store of honey for their purposes, and they suffer for their want of self-denial. Sometimes whole swarms have been destroyed by merely alighting upon poisonous trees. This happened to one in the county of West Chester in the province of New York, which settled upon the branches of the poison-ash (_Rhus Vernix_). In the following morning the imprudent animals were all found dead, and swelled to more than double their usual size[216]. Whether the honey extracted from the species of the genus _Kalmia_, _Andromeda_, _Rhododendrum_, &c. be hurtful to the bees themselves, is not ascertained; but, as has been before observed, it is often poisonous to man[217]. The Greeks, as you probably recollect, in their celebrated retreat after the death of the younger Cyrus, found a kind of honey at Trebisond on the Euxine coast, which, though it produced no fatal effects upon them, rendered those who ate but little, like men very drunk, and those who ate much, like mad men or dying persons; and numbers lay upon the ground as if there had been a defeat. Pliny, who mentions this honey, calls it _Mænomenon_, and observes that it is said to be collected from a kind of _Rhododendrum_, of which Tournefort noticed two species there[218].

When the stomach of a bee is filled with nectar, it next, by means of the feathered hairs[219] with which its body is covered, pilfers from the flowers the fertilizing dust of the anthers, the _pollen_; which is equally necessary to the society with the honey, and may be named the ambrosia of the hive, since from it the bee-bread is made. Sometimes a bee is so discoloured with this powder as to look like a different insect, becoming white, yellow, or orange, according to the flowers in which it has been busy. Reaumur was urged to visit the hives of a gentleman, who on this account thought his bees were different from the common kind[220]. He suspected, and it proved, that the circumstance just mentioned occasioned the mistaken notion. When the body of the bee is covered with farina, with the brushes of its legs, especially of the hind ones, it wipes it off: not, as we do with our dusty clothes, to dissipate and disperse it in the air, but to collect every particle of it, and then to knead it and form it into two little masses, which she places, one in each, in the baskets formed by hairs[221] on her hind legs.

Aristotle says that in each journey from the hive, bees attend only one species of flower[222]; Reaumur, however, seems to think that they fly indiscriminately from one to another: but Mr. Dobbs in the _Philosophical Transactions_[223], and Butler before him, asserts that he has frequently followed a bee engaged in collecting pollen, &c. and invariably observed that it continued collecting from the same kind of flowers with which it first began: passing over other species, however numerous, even though the flower it first selected was scarcer than others. His observations, he thinks, are confirmed--and the idea seems not unreasonable--by the uniform colour of the pellets of pollen, and their different size. Reaumur himself tells us that the bees enter the hive, some with yellow pellets, others with red ones, others again with whitish ones, and that sometimes they are even green: upon which he observes, that this arises from their being collected from particular flowers, the pollen of whose anthers is of those colours[224]. Sprengel, as before intimated[225], has made an observation similar to that of Dobbs. It seems not improbable that the reason why the bee visits the same species of plants during one excursion may be this:--Her instinct teaches her that the grains of pollen which enter into the same mass should be homogeneous, in order perhaps for their more effectual cohesion; and thus Providence also secures two important ends,--the impregnation of those flowers that require such aid, by the bees passing from one to another; and the avoiding the production of hybrid plants, from the application of the pollen of one kind of plant to the stigma of another. When the anthers are not yet burst, the bee opens them with her mandibles, takes a parcel of pollen, which one of the first pair of legs receives and delivers to the middle pair, from which it passes to one of the hind legs.

If the contents of one of the little pellets be examined under a lens, it will be found that the grains have all retained their original shape. A botanist practised in the figure of the pollen of the different species of common plants might easily ascertain, by such an examination, whether a bee had collected its ambrosia from one or more, and also from what species of flowers.

In the months of April and May, as Reaumur tells us, the bees collect pollen from morning to evening; but in the warmer months the great gathering of it is from the time of their first leaving the hive (which is sometimes so early as four in the morning) to about 10 o'clock A.M. About that hour all that enter the hive may be seen with their pellets in their baskets; but during the rest of the day the number of those so furnished is small in comparison of those that are not. In a hive, however, in which a swarm is recently established, it is generally brought in at all parts of the day. He supposes, in order for its being formed into pellets, that it requires some moisture, which the heat evaporates after the above hour; but in the case of recently colonized hives, that the bees go a great way to seek it in moist and shady places[226].

When a bee has completed her lading, she returns to the hive to dispose of it. The honey is disgorged into the honey-pots or cells destined to receive it, and is discharged from the honey-bag by its alternate contraction and dilatation. A cell will contain the contents of many honey-bags. When a bee comes to disgorge the honey, with its fore legs it breaks the thick cream that is always on the top, and the honey which it yields passes under it. This cream is honey of a thicker consistence than the rest, which rises to the top in the cells like cream on milk: it is not level, but forms an oblique surface over the honey. The cells, as you know, are usually horizontal, yet the honey does not run out. The cream, aided probably by the general thickness of the honey and the attraction of the sides of the cell, prevents this. Bees, when they bring home the honey, do not always disgorge it; they sometimes give it to such of their companions as have been at work within the hive[227]. Some of the cells are filled with honey for daily use, and some with what is intended for a reserve, and stored up against bad weather or a bad season: these are covered with a waxen lid[228].

The pollen is employed as circumstances direct. When the bee laden with it arrives at the hive, she sometimes stops at the entrance, and very leisurely detaching it by piecemeal, devours one or both the pellets on her legs, chewing them with her jaws, and passing them then down the little orifice before noticed. Sometimes she enters the hive, and walks upon the combs; and whether she walks or stands, still keeps beating her wings. By the noise thus produced, which seems a call to some of her fellow-citizens, three or four go to her, and placing themselves around her, begin to lighten her of her load, each taking and devouring a small portion of her ambrosia: this they repeat, if more do not arrive to assist them, three or four times, till the whole is disposed of[229]. Wildman observed them on this occasion supporting themselves upon their two fore feet; and making several motions with their wings and body to the right and left, which produced the sound that summoned their assistants[230]. This bee-bread, as I said before, is generally found in the second stomach and intestines, but the honey never; which induced Reaumur to think (but he was mistaken) that the bees elaborated wax from it: and he observes, that the bees devour this when they are busily engaged in constructing combs[231]. When more pollen is collected than the bees have immediate occasion for, they store it up in some of the empty cells. The laden bee 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 is too much fatigued with her day's labour, enters the cell with her head first, and remains there some time: she is engaged in diluting the pellets, kneading them, and packing them close; and so they proceed till the cell is filled[232]. A large portion of the cells of some combs are filled with this bread, which one while is found in insulated cells, at another in cells amongst those that are filled with honey or brood.--Thus it is everywhere at hand for use.

You have seen how the bees collect and employ two of the materials that I mentioned; I must now advert to the third--the _Propolis_. Huber was a long time uncertain from whence the bees procured this gummy resin; but it at last occurred to him to plant some cuttings of a species of poplar (before their leaves were developed, when their leaf-buds were swelling, and besmeared and filled with a viscid juice,) in some pots, which he placed in the way of the bees that went from his hives. Almost immediately a bee alighted upon a twig, and soon with its mandibles opened a bud, and drew from it a thread of the viscid matter which it contained; with one of its second pair of legs it took it from the mouth, and placed it in the basket: thus it proceeded till it had given them both their load[233]. I have myself seen bees very busy collecting it from the Tacamahaca (_Populus balsamifera_). But this is an old discovery, confirmed by recent observation; for Mouffet tells us from Cordus, that it is collected from the gems of trees, instancing the poplar and the birch[234]. Riem observes that it is also collected from the pine and fir. The propolis is soft, red, will pull out in a thread, is aromatic, and imparts a gold colour to white polished metals. It is employed in the hive not only in finishing the combs, as I related in my letter on Habitations[235]; but also in stopping every chink or orifice by which cold, wet, or any enemy, can enter. They cover likewise with it the sticks which support the combs, and often spread it over a considerable portion of the interior of the hive. Like the pellets of pollen, it is carried on the posterior tibiæ, but the masses are lenticular[236].

Mr. Knight mentions an instance of bees using an artificial kind of propolis. He had caused the decorticated part of some tree to be covered with a cement composed of bees-wax and turpentine: finding this to their purpose, they attacked it, detaching it from the tree by their mandibles, and then, as usual, passing it from the first leg to the second, and so to the third. When one bee had thus collected its load, another often came behind and despoiled it of all it had collected; a second and third load were frequently lost in the same manner; and yet the patient animal pursued its labours without showing any signs of anger[237].

Bees in their excursions do not confine themselves to the spot immediately contiguous to their dwelling, but, when led by the scent of honey, will go a mile from it. Huber even assigns to them a radius of half a league round their hive for their ordinary excursions; yet from this distance they will discover honey with as much certainty as if it was within their sight. To prove that it is by their scent that bees find it out, he put some behind a window-shutter, in a place where it could not be seen, leaving the shutter just open enough for insects, if they liked, to get at it. In less than a quarter of an hour four bees, a butterfly, and some house-flies had discovered it. At another time he put some into boxes, with little apertures in the lid, into which pieces of card were fitted, which he placed about two hundred paces from his hives. In about half an hour the bees discovered them, and traversing them very industriously, soon found the apertures, when, pushing in the pieces of card, they got to the honey. That contained in the blossom of many plants is quite as much concealed, yet the acuteness of their scent enables them to detect it.

These insects, especially when laden and returning to their nest, fly in a direct line, which saves both time and labour. How they are enabled to do this with such certainty as to make for their own abode without deviation, I must leave to others to explain. Connected with this circumstance, and the acuteness of their smell, is the following curious account, given in the _Philosophical Transactions_ for 1721, of the method practised in New England for discovering where the wild hive-bees live in the woods, in order to get their honey. The honey-hunters set a plate containing honey or sugar upon the ground in a clear day. The bees soon discover and attack it: having secured two or three that have filled themselves, the hunter lets one go, which rising into the air, flies straight to the nest: he then strikes off at right angles with its course a few hundred yards, and letting a second fly, observes its course by his pocket-compass, and the point where the two courses intersect is that where the nest is situated[238].

The natural station of bees is in the cavities of decayed trees; such trees, Mr. Knight tells us, they will discover in the closest recesses, and at an extraordinary distance from the hive; in one instance it was a mile: and at swarming, they sometimes are inclined to settle in such cavities. After the discovery of one, from twenty to fifty, who are a kind of scouts, may be found examining and keeping possession of it. They seem to explore every part of it and of the tree with the greatest attention, even surveying the dead knots and the like[239]. When a hive stands unemployed, a swarm will also sometimes send scouts to take possession of it.

How long our little active creatures repose before they take a second excursion I cannot precisely say. In a hive the greatest part of the inhabitants generally appear in repose, lying together, says Reaumur, but this probably for a short time. Huber tells us, that bees may always be observed in a hive with the head and thorax inserted into cells that contain eggs, and sometimes into empty ones: and that they remain in this situation fifteen or twenty minutes so motionless, that did not the dilatation of the segments of the abdomen prove the contrary, they might be mistaken for dead. He supposes their object is repose from their labours[240]. The queen, for this purpose, enters the large cells of the males, and continues in them without motion a very long time. Even then the workers form a circle round her, and brush the uncovered part of her abdomen. The drones while reposing do not enter the cells, but cluster in the combs, and sometimes remain without stirring a limb for eighteen or twenty hours[241].

Reaumur observes, that in a hive the population of which amounts to 18,000, the number that enter the hive in a minute is a hundred; which, allowing fourteen hours in the day for their labour, makes 84,000: thus every individual must make four excursions daily, and some five. In hives where the population was smaller, the numbers that entered were comparatively greater, so as to give six excursions or more to each bee[242]. But in this calculation Reaumur does not seem to take into the account those that are employed within the hive in building or feeding the young brood; which must render the excursions of each bee still more numerous. He proceeds further to ground upon this statement a calculation of the quantity of bee-bread that may be collected in one day by such a hive; and he found, supposing only half the number to collect it, that it would amount to more than a pound; so that in one season, one such hive might collect a hundred pounds[243]. What a wonderful idea does this give of the industry and activity of these little useful 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.

While I am upon this part of the story of bees, I cannot pass over the account Reaumur has given from Maillet of the transportation of hives in Egypt from one place to another, before alluded to[244], to enable them to make in greater abundance their collections of honey, &c. Towards the end of October, when the inundations of the Nile have ceased, and the husbandmen can sow their land, saintfoin is one of the first things that is sown; and as Upper Egypt is warmer than the Lower, the saintfoin gets there first into blossom. 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 numbered by the individual to whom it belongs. In this station they remain some days; and when they are judged to have got in the harvest of honey and pollen that is to be collected there, they are removed two or three leagues lower down, where they remain the same time; and so they proceed till towards the middle of February, when having traversed Egypt, they arrive at the sea, from whence they are dispersed to their several owners.

John Hunter observes, that when the season for laying is over, that for collecting honey comes on (he means, probably, for making the principal collection of it); and that when the last pupa is disclosed, the cell it deserts, after being cleaned, is immediately filled with it; and as soon as full is covered with pure wax: but this only holds with respect to the cells containing honey for winter use, those destined to receive that which forms their food when bad weather prevents them from going out, being left open[245]. Sometimes, when the year is remarkably favourable for collecting honey, the bees will destroy many of the larvæ to make room for it; but they never meddle with the pupæ. When no more honey is to be collected, they remain quiet in the hive for the winter. Mr. Hunter found that a hive grew lighter in a cold than in a warm week; he found also, that in three months (from November 10th to February 9th) a single hive lost 72 oz. 1-1/2 dram[246].

Water is a thing of the first necessity to these insects; but they are not very delicate as to its quality, but rather the reverse; often preferring what is stagnant and putrescent, to that of a running stream[247]. I have frequently observed them busy in corners moist with urine; perhaps this is for the sake of the saline particles to be there collected.

A new-born bee, as soon as it is able to use its wings, seems perfectly aware, without any previous instruction, what are to be its duties and employments for the rest of its life. It appears to know that it is born for society, and not for selfish pursuits; and therefore it invariably devotes itself and its labours to the benefit of the community to which it belongs. Walking upon the combs, it seeks for the door of the hive, that it may sally forth and be useful. Full of life and activity, it then takes its first flight; and, unconducted but by its instinct, visits like the rest the subjects of Flora, absorbs their nectar, covers itself with their ambrosial dust, which it kneads into a mass and packs upon its hind legs; and if need be, gathers propolis, and returns unembarrassed to its own hive[248].

Instances of the expedition with which our little favourites accomplish their various objects you have had several; but this is never more remarkable than when they settle in a new hive. At this time, in twenty-four hours they will sometimes construct a comb twenty inches long by seven or eight wide; and the hive will be half filled in five or six days; so that in the first fifteen days as much wax is made as in the whole year besides[249].

In treating of the various employments of the bees, I must not omit one of the greatest importance to them--the _ventilation_ of their abode. When you consider the numbers contained in so confined a space; the high temperature to which its atmosphere is raised; and the small aperture at which the air principally enters, you will readily conceive how soon it must be rendered unfit for respiration, and be convinced that there must be some means of constantly renewing it. If you feel disposed to think that the ventilation takes place, as in our apartments, by natural means, resulting from the rarefaction of the air by the heat of the hive, and the consequent establishment of an interior and exterior current--a simple experiment will satisfy you that this cannot be. Take a vessel of the size of a bee-hive, with a similar or even somewhat larger aperture--introduce a lighted taper, and if the temperature be raised to more than 140°, it will go out in a short time. We must therefore admit, as Huber observes[250], that the bees possess the astonishing faculty of attracting the external air, and at the same time of expelling that which has become corrupted by their respiration.

What would you say, should I tell you that the bees upon this occasion have recourse to the same instrument which ladies use to cool themselves when an apartment is overheated? Yet it is strictly the case. By means of their marginal hooks, they unite each pair of wings into one plane slightly concave, thus acting upon the air by a surface nearly as large as possible, and forming for them a pair of very ample fans, which in their vibrations describe an arch of 90°. These vibrations are so rapid as to render the wings almost invisible. When they are engaged in ventilation, the bees by means of their feet and claws fix themselves as firmly as possible to the place they stand upon. The first pair of legs is stretched out before; the second extended to the right and left; whilst the third, placed very near each other, are perpendicular to the abdomen, so as to give that part considerable elevation.

Maraldi, and after him Reaumur, long ago noticed this action of the bees; but they attributed to it an effect the reverse of that which it really produces; the former imagining it to occasion directly the high temperature of the hive, and the latter indirectly[251]. It was reserved for Huber to discover the true cause of it; and from him the chief of what I have to say upon the subject will be derived[252].

During the summer a certain number of workers--for it is to the workers solely that this office is committed--may always be observed vibrating their wings before the entrance of their hive; and the observant apiarist will find upon examination, that a still greater number are engaged within it in the same employment. All those thus circumstanced that stand without, turn their head to the entrance; while those that stand within, turn their back to it. The station of these ventilators is upon the floor of the hive. They are usually ranged in files, that terminate at the entrance; and sometimes, but not constantly, form so many diverging rays, probably to give room for comers and goers to pass. The number of ventilators in action at the same time varies: it seldom much exceeds twenty, and is often more circumscribed. The time also that they devote to this function is longer or shorter according to circumstances: some have been observed to continue their vibrations for nearly half an hour without resting, suspending the action for not more than an instant, as it should seem to take breath. When one retires, another occupies its place; so that in a hive well peopled there is never any interruption of the sound or humming occasioned by this action; by which it may always be known whether it be going on or not.

This humming is observable not only during the heats of summer, but at all seasons of the year. It sometimes seems even more forcible in the depth of winter than when the temperature of the atmosphere is higher. An employment so constant, which always occupies a certain number of bees, must produce as constant an effect. The column of air once disturbed within, must give place to that without the hive; thus a current being established, the ventilation will be perpetual and complete.

To be convinced that such an effect is produced, approach your hand to a ventilating bee, and you will find that she causes a very perceptible motion in the air. Huber tried an experiment still more satisfactory. On a calm day, at the time when the bees had returned to their habitation--having fixed a screen before the mouth of the hive to prevent his being misled by any sudden motion of the external air--he placed within the screen little anemometers or wind-gauges, made of bits of paper, feather, or cotton, suspended by a thread to a crotch. No sooner did they enter the atmosphere of the bees than they were put in motion, being alternately attracted and repelled to and from the aperture of the hive with considerable rapidity. These attractions and repulsions were proportioned to the number of bees engaged in ventilation, and, though sometimes less perceptible, were never intirely suspended. Burnens tried a similar experiment in the winter, when the thermometer stood in the shade at 33°. Having selected a well-peopled hive, the inhabitants of which appeared full of life and sufficiently active in the interior, and luted it all around, except the aperture to the platform on which it stood, he stuck in the top a piece of iron wire which terminated in a hook, to which he fastened a hair with a small square of very thin paper at the other end; this was exactly opposite to the aperture, at the distance of about an inch from it. As soon as the apparatus was fixed, the hair with its paper pendulum began to oscillate more or less, the greatest oscillations on both sides being an inch, by admeasurement, from the perpendicular: if the paper was moved by force to a greater distance, the vibrations did not take place, and the apparatus remained at rest. He then made an opening in the top of the hive, and poured in some liquid honey: soon after there arose a hum, the movement in the interior increased, and some bees came out. The oscillations of the pendulum upon this became more frequent and intense, and extended to fifteen lines or an inch and a quarter from the perpendicular; but when the paper was removed to a greater distance from the aperture, it remained at rest.

Huber, at the proposal of M. de Saussure, in order to ascertain whether artificial ventilators would produce an analogous effect, got a mechanical friend to construct for him a little mill with eighteen sails of tin. He also prepared a large cylindrical vase, into which he could, at an aperture in the box upon which it was fixed, introduce a lighted taper. In one side of this box was another aperture to represent that of a hive, but larger. The ventilator was placed below, and luted at the points of contact, and anemometers were suspended before the aperture. The first experiment was the introduction of the taper, without putting the ventilator in motion. Though the capacity of the vessel was about 3228 cubic inches, the flame soon diminished, and went out in about eight minutes, and the anemometers continued motionless. The same experiment was next repeated with the door shut, with precisely the same result. After the air of the vessel had been renewed, the taper was again introduced, and the ventilator set in motion: immediately, as appeared by the oscillations of the anemometers, two currents of air were established, and the brilliancy of the flame was not diminished during the whole course of the experiment, which might have been prolonged for an indefinite time. A thermometer placed in the lower part of the apparatus rose to 112°; and the temperature was evidently still more elevated at the top of the receiver.

The Creator often has one end in view in the actions of animals, (and nothing more conspicuously displays the invisible hand that governs the universe,) while the agents themselves have another. This probably is the case in the present instance, since we can scarcely suppose that the bees beat the air with their wings in order to ventilate the hive, but rather to relieve themselves from some disagreeable sensation which oppresses them. The following experiments prove that one of their objects in this action, as it is with ladies when they use their fans, is to cool themselves when they suffer from too great heat. When Huber once opened the shutter of a glazed hive, so that the solar rays darted upon the combs covered with bees, a humming, the sign of ventilation, soon was heard amongst them, while those which were in the shade remained tranquil. The bees composing the clusters which often are suspended from the hives in summer, when they are incommoded by the heat of the sun, fan themselves with great energy. But if by any means a shadow is cast over any portion of the group, the ventilation ceases there, while it continues in the part which feels the heat of the sun. The same cause produces a similar effect upon humble-bees, wasps, and hornets.

Amongst the bees, however, it is remarkable that ventilation goes on even in the depth of winter, when it cannot be occasioned by excess of heat.--This therefore can only be regarded as a secondary cause of the phenomenon. From other experiments, which, having already detained you too long, I shall not here detail, it appears that penetrating and disagreeable odours produce the same effect[253]. Perhaps, though Huber does not say this, the odour produced by the congregated myriads of the hive may be amongst the principal motives that impel its inhabitants to this necessary action.

Whatever be the proximate cause, it is I trust now evident to you, that the Author of nature, having assigned to these insects a habitation into which the air cannot easily penetrate, has gifted them with the means of preventing the fatal effects which would result from corrupted air. An indirect effect of ventilation is the elevated temperature which these animals maintain, without any effort, in their hive:--but upon this I shall enlarge hereafter.

Bees are extremely neat in their persons and habitations, and remove all nuisances with great assiduity, at least as far as their powers enable them. Sometimes slugs or snails will creep into a hive, which with all their address they cannot readily expel or carry out. But here their instinct is at no loss; for they kill them, and afterwards embalm them with propolis, so as to prevent any offensive odours from incommoding them. An unhappy snail, that had travelled up the sides of a glazed hive, and which they could not come at with their stings, they fixed, a monument of their vengeance and dexterity, by laying this substance all around the mouth of its shell[254]. When they expel their excrements, they go apart that they may not defile their companions: and in winter, when prevented by extreme cold, or the injudicious practice of wholly closing the door of the hive, from going out for this purpose, their bodies sometimes become so swelled from the accumulation of feces in the intestines, that when at last able to get out they can no longer fly, so that falling to the ground in the attempt, they perish with cold, the sacrifice of personal neatness[255]. When a bee is disclosed from the pupa and has left its cell, a worker comes, and taking out its envelope carries it from the hive; another removes the exuviæ of the larva, and a third any filth or ordure that may remain, or any pieces of wax that may have fallen in when the nascent imago broke from its confinement. But they never attempt to remove the internal lining of silk that covers the walls, spun by the larva previous to its metamorphosis, because, instead of being a nuisance, it renders the cell more solid[256].

Having now described to you the usual employments of my little favourites both within doors and without, I shall next enlarge a little upon their language, memory, tempers, manners, and some other parts of their history.

"Brutes" (it is the remark of Mr. Knight) "have language to express sentiments of love, of fear, of anger; but they seem unable to transmit any impression they have received from external objects. But the language of bees is more extensive; if not a language of ideas, it is something very similar[257]." You have seen above that the organ of the language of ants is their antennæ. Huber has proved satisfactorily, that these parts have the same use with the bees. He wished to ascertain whether, when they had lost a queen (intelligence which traverses a whole hive in about an hour) they discovered the sad event by their smell, their touch, or any unknown cause. He first divided a hive by a grate, which kept the two portions about three or four lines apart; so that they could not come at each other, though scent would pass. In that part in which there was no queen, the bees were soon in great agitation; and as they did not discover her where she was confined, in a short time they began to construct royal cells, which quieted them. He next separated them by a partition through which they could pass their antennæ, but not their heads. In this case the bees all remained tranquil, neither intermitting the care of the brood, nor abandoning their other employments; nor did they begin any royal cell. The means they used to assure themselves that their queen was in their vicinity and to communicate with her, was to pass their antennæ through the openings of the grate. An infinite number of these organs might be seen at once, as it were, inquiring in all directions; and the queen was observed answering these anxious inquiries of her subjects in the most marked manner; for she was always fastened by her feet to the grate, crossing her antennæ with those of the inquirers. Various other experiments, which are too long to relate, prove the importance of these organs as the instrument of communicating with each other, as well as to direct the bee in all its proceedings[258]. Besides their antennæ, the bees also cause themselves to be understood by certain sounds, not indeed produced by the mouth, but by other parts of their body:--but upon this subject I shall have occasion to enlarge hereafter.

That bees can remember agreeable sensations at least, is evident from the following anecdote related by Huber.--One autumn some honey was placed upon a window--the bees attended it in crowds. The honey was taken away, and the window closed with a shutter all the winter. In the spring, when it was re-opened, the bees returned, though no fresh honey had been placed there[259].

From the earliest times our little citizens of the hive have had the character of being an irritable race. Their anger is without bounds, says Virgil; and if they are molested, this character is no exaggeration. Some individuals, however, they will suffer to go near their hives, and to do almost any thing: and there are others to whom they seem to take such an antipathy, that they will attack them unprovoked. A great deal will probably depend upon this--whether any thing has happened to put them out of humour. The bees usually do not attack me; but I remember one day last year, when the asparagus was in blossom, which a large number were attending, I happened to go between my asparagus beds; which discomposed them so much, that I was obliged to retreat with hasty steps, and some of them flew after me; I escaped however unstung. Thorley relates an anecdote of a gentleman, who, desirous of securing a swarm of bees that had settled in a hollow tree, rashly undertook to dislodge them. He succeeded; but though he had used the precaution of securing his head and hands, he was so stung by the furious animals, that a violent fever was the consequence, and his recovery was for some time doubtful. The strength of his constitution at length prevailed; and the hole of the tree being stopped, the survivors of the battle settled upon a branch, were hived, and became the dear-bought property of their conqueror[260].

In Mungo Park's last mission to Africa, he was much annoyed by the attack of bees, probably of the same tribe with our hive-bee. His people, in search of honey, disturbed a large colony of them. The bees sallied forth by myriads, and attacking men and beasts indiscriminately, put them all to the rout. One horse and six asses were either killed or missing in consequence of their attack; and for half an hour the bees seemed to have completely put an end to their journey. Isaaco upon another occasion lost one of his asses, and one of his men was almost killed by them[261].