Chapter XXII: Section 2: Cenobites (dwellers in community) (2)

The drones, or male bees, appear to receive life for one substantial purpose only, which is soon accomplished, but during the short space of time its successive performance requires, it is incidentally accompanied with assistance to the general community whilst they remain permitted occupants of the hive, by aiding in heating and ventilating it,—a labour repaid by the food, which they obtain from the stores kept open for daily consumption. Although uncontributive to the acquisition of the riches of the hive, yet are they indispensable to the perpetuation of the species, and their murder as supposed by some apiarians, or their expulsion as thought by others, in either case equally terminating in their destruction, seems an unworthy return for the important service performed, although this is restricted to the number of individuals required by the equal number of queens that may be produced. To this number their production might be limited, but for the chance of either or all of these queens failing by some casualty to obtain a prince consort. To baffle the possibility of this mischance, a very superfluous number of these drones is hatched, as above stated, which are on the alert, when each queen successively issues forth upon her bridal morn, to catch her favouring glances, and be the accepted groom. That they are not further conducive to the well-being of the hive is the fault of their structure and of their instinct, which are correlative, they being as little fitted either in their tongue or their legs for the uses of the hive as the queen herself. The physiology of their intercourse is a mystery of mysteries, and would seem to partake of the principle, modified, of that developed in the aphides, where the vital power passes on through successive generations by the efficiency of the energy of one ancestral intercourse. In the hive bee this is not the case, but in these the one espousal fertilizes eggs to the number of often a hundred thousand, yet undeveloped and even indiscernible by the aid of the microscope in the ovaries of the queen, and which become bees progressively in the course of a couple of years, the supposed duration of her existence, during the whole of which time she is laying. The accepted male is destroyed by the effects of the amour, and when all the queens which are to be the heads of independent communities are successively fertilized, and have led forth their colonies, the remaining drones issue compulsively from the hive and are lost in the wideness of nature, and die by the natural limitation of their existence, or become the prey of their numerous enemies.

The neuters or workers are, as it were, emanations of the queen, or the organs whereby her several functions as a mother are performed, considering the species as restricted to two sexes, and thus they comprise with her, collectively, one organic whole. That this is a consistent view of their condition is further proved by the circumstance that from their larvæ, upon the failure of a queen, a new queen is produced upon one being supplied with a certain nutriment that developes the capacity that would remain inert and abortive, were it not thus promoted from its primary state. It may be questioned whether the eggs deposited by the queen in the royal cells are other than neuter eggs, their subsequent nature being changed by the different quality of the sustenance they are fed with when hatched, as is the case in the above noticed defection of a queen. This then would limit the queen’s eggs to the eggs of neuters and of drones, thus further corroborating the idea of the existence of but two sexes.

I have stated above the supposition that the queen’s office may be restricted to the laying of eggs, but it must be inferred that it has a wider compass, and possibly comprises some administrative function in the regulation of the hive, from the circumstance that with her loss the entire community loses its self-possession and self-control. Labour then ceases and the hive becomes the scene of turmoil and confusion, and unless the loss be repaired in the way named above, which their instinct teaches them to adopt, if any eggs have been already deposited, or if supplied by the surreptitious introduction of another queen which they immediately raise to their superintendency, paying her the same deference they had done to their lost monarch, or would do to a legitimately native birth, it disperses and destroys the community. Such a loss in its natural course must necessarily, to be effectively repaired, take place in the interval after the laying of the drones’ eggs, and before those of the queens are deposited, for otherwise she would remain unimpregnated. Having thus shown reasons for supposing that the hive actually contains but two sexes, and having also shown that the first phase exhibited of this distributed maternal instinct by which the neuters form conjunctively with the queen a many-headed and many-hearted mother, is their preparation of the cells for all the purposes required,—the next and most important, and the one perhaps which elevates them vastly higher in the scale of social intelligence and affection, is the absolute development in them only of maternal solicitude for the well-being of the offspring. This certainly proves the existence of the diffused maternity urged, for they feed the hatched young as the bird does its callow, from hour to hour, and which, when full grown, they enclose in its formative cell, to undergo its changes and become one amongst themselves. It is not absolutely determined whether the functions performed within the hive are restricted to distinct sets of the workers, but it may be presumed that the duties are transferable, for the most plausible supposition is, that all the offices are interchangeably performed by the entire population, possibly merely limited to daily alternation of individuals taled off each morning for the day’s duties. That an administrative regulation must exist under some executive authority, emanating doubtless from the centralization of all in the queen, and communicated to the rest by her relays of attendants, may be conclusively inferred, otherwise all might similarly employ themselves from day to day, and thus overwhelm with one work the multiplicity of labours required for the well-being of the hive. For whilst some are secreting the wax from the honey they have consumed, others are moulding it into shape, others are harvesting the bee-bread to feed the voracious larvæ, others are gleaning the propolis for the security of the domicile, others are collecting honey to store as needful supplies, others are either ventilating or heating the interior, others act as sentinels and guard the approaches or patrol the passages within, and will die in that defence like genuine patriots, and others are in attendance upon the queen in her progresses through her dominions, and who may individually act as _aides-de-camp_ to convey her commands to the rest. All these are not fanciful embellishments of the narrative, but substantial and well-authenticated facts, supported by the repetition on many sides of careful observations, but perplexing to human intelligence, for not the least wonder of this conventicle of wonders—the hive—is that it confounds the astute reason of man to comprehend it in all its significancies.

The first necessity of a new colony is the selection of a locality for habitation, which is usually effected by preliminary trustworthy intelligencers determining upon a site suitable from its concurrent conveniences. A sufficient supply of sustenance must be conveyed by the emigrants to accompany the preparatory construction of the settlement, until land can be cleared, grain grown, etc., and a year at least will pass, even under the most favourable circumstances of the exertion of the greatest industry, concurrently with the most propitious succession of the seasons, before it can become self-sustaining. But when once the wheel is fairly on the move, round it spins without interruption or relaxation. The colony thrives, increasing rapidly in its population; and where all have put the shoulder to the wheel it climbs the steep and rugged hill of prosperity, whilst those who are carried onward by its evolutions, from each of the many successive terraces of this noble height, survey a broad, cheerful, and fertile landscape, extending itself with their elevation, spread out to a distant horizon, which many of the more venturous spirits amongst them, urged by the teeming increase of their compatriots, have already traversed, and who themselves are now rejoicing in the establishment of offshoots, which speedily rival, in successful fruitfulness, the wide-branched productiveness of the parent stock.

This is strictly the history of the hive, and the parallelism is complete, even to the conveyance with them of the preliminary needful stores. Before a swarm issues from the hive, some fly forth to select a dwelling-place, and return, it is presumed, to make their report.

The population of the hive becoming so dense that there is no longer room for the free and unrestrained circulation of the ordinary processes of the community, and so hot from the inconvenient accumulation of such numbers,—for they extend sometimes to as many as fifty thousand,—instinct prompts a portion of the community to migrate. This disposition is further promoted by the progressive, or completed development of some of the young queens. The inveterate and internecine animosity of these—anticipated rivalry, suggesting, it is surmised, the murderous desire, but being prevented from its indulgence by the defensive guardianship of several of the workers—urges the old queen to abandon at this conjuncture her royal metropolis. The inclination to do so, it would appear, is already foreseen by a very large body of her subjects, for if her departure be delayed by her successor’s protracted incapacity for undertaking the sovereign rule, the intending emigrants, having already abandoned all the labours of their old domicile preparatory to their issuing forth, will cluster in groups about the bee board until she is ready to emerge. This condition will sometimes last a day or two, and thence of course all is confusion both within and without the hive, for her subjects have suspended their labours and she has suspended her egg-laying, and roams wildly about within, striving, whenever she approaches a royal cell, or a fully developed young queen, to attack the latter, and destroy her by stinging her to death, or, to tear the former to pieces to get at the imago within, which indicates its apprehension by a shrill piping sound. But she is forcibly dragged back from this apicidal purpose by the working bees which surround each, and who now intermit their usual deference to prevent this destruction, and bite her and drag her back. The future queen of the abdicated throne having, during this turmoil, returned from her wedding tour, and being still protected from slaughterous aggression, the old queen indignantly issues forth. This exodus takes place usually on a brilliant and warm day, between twelve and three,—accordingly during the hottest hours. This is the first swarm of the year, and if the season be very genial it will take place in May. In this migration she is accompanied by all her most faithful lieges, which comprise, to the honour of beehood, by very much the largest majority of the inhabitants, to the number usually, in a well-stocked hive, of several thousands,—say from ten to twenty, depending on the population of the hive.

Having thus issued forth in a body, they shortly alight upon and about the branch of some adjacent tree, clustering, in as close proximity as they can, to their royal leader. In a natural state, when duly organized to proceed, they would thence start for the domicile that had previously been selected by the emissaries above noted; but, as their natural habits are not at all perverted by their subjugation to man, we will pursue their history under his dominion. This will be the more convenient, for in the comfortable hive to which they have been transferred by his agency, we shall have every opportunity of exactly watching their manœuvres by the facilities yielded in its being glazed for the purpose. We shall thus be enabled to see and follow the wonderful economy of the hive and its many mysteries, which it would not have been possible to accomplish in an abode of their own choice,—some cavity presented by Nature herself, the hollow of a tree, or an excavated rock. They are, therefore, now housed, and after the survey of the capacity of their abode, which is a short affair, with all the prompt energy peculiar to them they at once commence their labours. The queen is already matured, and ready to lay eggs. In a natural abode the gathering of propolis would perhaps be a first necessity to make their home water-and-wind-tight, for they abhor the inconveniences of the intrusion of wet or cold. It is with this material that they make repairs, fill crevices, and strengthen the suspension of their combs, which are hung vertically; and they apply it also to other purposes, which we shall see hereafter. This material is of a resinous nature, it has a balsamic odour, and is of a reddish-brown or darker colour, and is supposed to be collected from fir or pine trees, or from the envelopes of the buds of many plants, or their resinous exudations, especially that of the blossoms of the hollyhock. It is exceedingly clammy, and they have been observed ten minutes moulding it into the lenticular pellets in which they carry it home in the corbicula, or little basket, of the posterior tibiæ. They gather it like pollen with the fore feet, and pass it to the intermediate ones, whence it is taken by the posterior plantæ, kneaded into shape, and deposited upon the hind shanks. It dries so rapidly that often, upon arriving home, the bees which store it have much difficulty in tearing it from the legs of these collectors. The hottest days only are propitious to its gathering, for all moisture is injurious to it, and the hottest period of the day, also, is alone occupied in its collection. It is said that they have been known to fly as many as from three to five miles for it, from the circumstance that suitable plants were not to be found within a lesser radius; but this may be a mistake, for their ordinary excursions are not supposed to range wider than a single mile or something more, and bees may be able to find it where we may suppose it not to occur. In the abode with which we have provided them it is not so urgent a necessity, this being already wind-and-water-tight, although in the progress of their labours they find it indispensable, and use it to fasten the crevices that intervene between the bottom of the hive and the bee board, and, as before noticed, to strengthen the support of the cakes of comb which hang from the roof. The name it still retains is that which was applied to it by the ancients, and signifies _before the city_, as indicative of its use in strengthening the outworks.

Conjoined herewith is the imperative need for the construction of cells for every purpose of the hive, namely, for the storing of the propolis, and that of the pollen, as also the collected honey, as well as for the reception of the young brood, for the mature queen is waiting impatiently to deposit her eggs. Simultaneously, therefore, is the wax being secreted and elaborated by the processes previously noticed. The community is already late, and all are at once in active operation, but four-and-twenty hours must elapse before the cells can he commenced, for it takes that time to secrete the first batch of wax. Festoons, as before described, of these wax secreters are hanging in every direction within the cavity of the hive, and as soon as the process is completed by the first festoon, this dissolves itself by the several bees unlinking their feet, and a leading bee proceeds to the top of the centre of the hive, where she makes herself room from the lateral pressure of other bees, by turning herself sharply about and agitating her wings, and there she collects the scales from the surface of her ventral segments, manipulates them as before noticed, and thus converts them into wax. The rest follow her, and she collects it from them into a little oblong mass of about half an inch; whilst other bees from other festoons are continually arriving to deposit their produce; and as soon as the mass is sufficiently large, which is speedily the case, a sculpturer bee succeeds, and the first cell is laterally commenced. On the opposite side to where this is being framed, two other bees are at work, moulding the bottoms of two cells in apposition to the basis of the first one. The wax keeps constantly increasing by fresh deposits, and the rudiments of more cells are as rapidly formed. These all emanate laterally, in a horizontal direction or with a very slight incline towards their base. They gradually form the vertical cake of comb, for the bottom of one entire range of cells suffices for both sides and inevitably they are so adjusted that the bottoms of those on either side are each covered by one-third of the bottoms of each cell on the opposite side, and so conversely, receiving and communicating strength by three thus supporting one. Here comes the great wonder of the hive; here in this fragile structure abides a mystery that has perplexed man’s keenest sagacity. Is it accident or is it intelligence that instructs the bee, or is it the impulse of the instinct implanted by that Supreme Intelligence which gives man his reason and moulds all things to their most fitting use?

Ray’s view is precisely this; he says:—“The bee, a creature of the lowest forms of animals, so that no man can suspect it to have any considerable measure of understanding, or to have knowledge of, much less to aim at, any end, yet makes her combs and cells with that geometrical accuracy, that she must needs be acted by an instinct implanted in her by the wise Author of Nature.” To support this idea of the geometrical skill of the bee, he cites “the famous mathematician Pappus,” the Alexandrian, of the time of Theodosius the Great, who “demonstrates it in the preface to his third book of _Mathematical Collections_.” “First of all (saith he, speaking of the cells), it is convenient that they be of such figures as may cohere one to another, and have common sides, else there would be empty spaces left between them to no use but to the weakening and spoiling of the work, if anything should get in there, and therefore though a round figure be most capacious for the honey, and most convenient for the bee to creep into, yet did she not make choice of that, because then there must have been triangular spaces left void. Now, there are only three rectilineous and ordinate figures, which can serve to this purpose, and inordinate, or unlike ones, must have been, not only less elegant and beautiful, but unequal. [Ordinate figures are such as have all their sides and all their angles equal.] The three ordinate figures are triangles, squares, and hexagons; for the space about any point may be filled up either by six equilateral triangles, or four squares, or three hexagons; whereas three pentagons are too little, and three heptagons too much. Of these three, the bee makes use of the hexagon, both because it is more capacious than either of the others provided they be of equal compass, and so equal matter spent in the construction of each. And, secondly, because it is most commodious for the bee to creep into. And, lastly, because in the other figures more angles and sides must have met together at the same point, and so the work could not have been so firm and strong. Moreover, the combs being double, the cells on each side the partition are so ordered that the angles on one side insist upon the centres of the bottoms of the cells on the other side, and not angle upon or against angle; which also must needs contribute to the strength and firmness of the work.”

Each cell therefore is in shape a hexagon, that is to say, a figure with six equal sides, to each of which six other hexagons attach, for each wall forms also one wall of another hexagon. The basis of each hexagonal cavity is of an obtuse three-sided pyramidal shape inverted, and consisting of three rhomboidal plates, each forming one-third of the basis of the three opposite cells; thus the edges of these three basal plates of one side support three lateral walls of three hexagons on the other side. The inverted triangular pyramid thus made by these three equal rhomboidal plates, form, at one extremity and at each pair of their posterior edges a re-entering angle, and at the other extremity a salient angle. From these edges spring the lateral walls of the hexagonal cell, this shape being superinduced by the form of the edges of the basal cavity. That the bees should have been thus guided to elect a form which combines conjunctively the advantages of strength and capacity evidently proves that it is their instinct which guides them, which, being an afflation from the highest source, ensures the most complete perfection in its result. That it cannot be the effect of simultaneous lateral pressure is proved incontestably by the whole superstructure resulting from the design of the base; and this is further corroborated by the base of one cell on one side forming invariably equal portions of the base of three cells on the opposite side,—all clearly the result of preconceived design impressed upon their sensorium. From this combination of forms results the security procured to the fragile tenement, which consists of the very smallest quantity of material that will cohere substantially, for the bees are exceedingly parsimonious of their wax, as if the production of it were attended with pain or inconvenience, and it is only upon the construction of the royal cells that a profusion of this choice material is squandered. As soon as these cohorts of bees are in active operation, it is astonishing with what pertinacity and rapidity they labour, for within the space of four-and-twenty hours they will construct a cake a foot deep and six inches wide, containing within its double area some four thousand cells. Other cakes parallel to each side of the original are being at the same time carried forward with an interval between each sufficient for two bees to pass each other _dos à dos_, and further to promote the convenience of traffic within the hive, and ready communication to its several parts, passages are left through these cakes from one to the other, so that the means of transit are opened, which of course saves much time. The queen is already making her progresses from one side of each comb to the other, and depositing her eggs as rapidly as she can, and is constantly attended by her _aides-de-camp_, as I have suggested, which act, as they evidently sometimes are, as the emissaries of her commands. They consist of ten or twelve or sometimes more, and have been previously described. They are replaced by others as they quit to obey orders, or as they retire fatigued, so that she is always surrounded. The number of eggs she will lay in a day is about two hundred. In doing this she first thrusts her head into a cell to ascertain its fitness, which having done, she withdraws it, and then curving her body she thrusts the apex of her abdomen, which tapers to the extremity for the purpose, into the cell, wherein by means of the sheaths of her curved sting, which act as an ovipositor, she places the egg at the bottom of the cell. It is possibly from some taction of this instrument that she discerns the sizes of the eggs, and thence their respective sex. This process she continues repeating, passing from one side of the comb to the other by means of the passages perforated through it, making the numbers as nearly as possible tally on each side and as opposite to each other as may be, and she will then go forward to further cakes of comb. In this way she lays about ten or twelve thousand in six weeks, depending much upon the propitiousness of the season, but the rapidity of this laying intermits according to the months; the above estimate is based upon what April and May produce, as it slackens during the summer heats and again revives in the autumn, but totally terminates with the first cold weather. She thus will lay from thirty to forty thousand or more in a year.

Apiarians do not state whether the same queen heads another swarm on the following year, which perhaps she does in those cases of excessive fertility where her abundance is estimated at one hundred thousand, when by her sole individual capacity she populates three hives. In the more usual and ordinary case of her teeming with about seventy thousand, or fewer, she evidently heads but one swarm. With the described rapidity of the production of the cells, although the majority are store cells and not brood cells, conjunctively with her prolific laying, the population of the hive rapidly increases, which, added to the large original colony, will enable it in a propitious year to throw off a swarm of its own; but ordinarily she does not again lay drone eggs and royal eggs until the following season. The period at which to do this is taught her by the condition of the hive, as urgent for relief to its oppressive population by an exodus. The drone eggs are then laid, and are speedily succeeded by the laying of the royal eggs, so that the males of the season and the new queens may be hatched almost simultaneously, the drones slightly preceding the development of the queens. As soon as the egg of a worker is hatched, which, by means of the high temperature, is effected in four days after the laying, it, from its birth, is sedulously attended by the bees called nurse-bees. The little vermicle is very voracious and is heedfully supplied by these careful attendants, when it has consumed the quantity of bee bread already deposited in the cell by some of these nurses as soon as the egg was laid. This bee bread consists of pollen, taken from the cells by the nurses, where it is garnered for the purpose, being therein mixed with a slight quantity of honey. This, in masticating, the nurses intermingle with some secretion of their own, which gives it a sort of gelatinous frothy appearance, and upon this the young thrives so rapidly, greedily opening its jaws to receive it, that in four more days it is full grown, and fills the whole cell. The nursing-bees then cover this in with a light brown top, convex externally, and within it the larva spins for itself a cocoon to undergo its subsequent transformations. This cocoon is spun of a fine silk, which issues from the organ of the larva called the spinner, in two delicate threads, which, as they pass out, cohere together. It works at this labour for thirty-six hours, and then changes into the pupa or grub; thus it lies quiescent for three days, when it gradually undergoes its transformation into the imago, and it issues as a perfect insect about the twenty-first day after being deposited as an egg. The cocoon it has formed exactly fills the cell it has left, which still continues to serve as a brood cell until the succession of cocoons with which it is thus lined renders it too small for the purpose, it is then cleaned out by the scavengers of the hive and changed into a honey depository, but the honey stored in such a cell is never so pure as that which comes from the exclusively waxen cell. Thus is effected the transformation of the working bee, which, upon the very day of its emancipation from its nursery, commences its duties as an active member of the community, in the successive and several labours undertaken for the benefit of the commonwealth, and these it assiduously follows for the period of its natural life, which extends to about six or eight months.

The hive is now in the liveliest activity. The swarm which entered with the queen, and the large addition to the population which has already been produced from her incessant laying, are all at their several avocations. The whole hive, its entrance and the immediate vicinity, and far around is jocund with the bustle and the buzz of the busy little creatures going and coming; those returning are all laden, although some do not appear so, but these are conveying riches home within them, as they are returning from their excursions with their honey-bag well filled. There is welcoming recognition at the entrance to the hive, where, on its broad platform, they all alight, and there many are to be seen touching each other with their antennæ, or refreshing themselves by the vibrations of their wings, and in doing this they often raise themselves on the hind legs, or they are resting for a few seconds before they enter. Others are to be seen arriving unrecognizable from a coloured envelope of pollen which mantles them. The incessant hum that accompanies these proceedings is like the mildest tones of the surge of the distant sea, or the inarticulate buzz of the voice of large crowds. In this seeming confusion all obey the strictest order, for each attends to his own business only; there is no collision or loss of time or labour, each one fulfilling precisely its own mission. At this period the hive is a perfect model of order, neatness, and beauty. The combs we have seen so rapidly growing are to be filled, and fresh cells are being constantly constructed. The honey there stored from the gradual gatherings of these active harvesters is partly to be reserved for the winter’s needs, and is carefully husbanded, for each of these cells is, when filled, closed by a covercle of wax moulded as it is supplied to the operator in concentric circles, commencing at the edge, and each circle being completed before another is begun, and not in a spiral twist towards the centre. To prevent the trampling of the discharging bees from injuring the delicate structure of the walls of the cell, each edge is furnished with a strengthening rim of wax. The bulk of these stores is never broken, except in bad wet seasons, in times of great dearth, or upon any suspension of torpidity during their hibernation. For the ordinary and daily consumption of those of the community whose labours confine them to the hive, open stores are left. As of course it occupies the excursions of several bees for some time to fill one of these vases, and to prevent the liquid flowing out, as it might do from its exceeding tenuity through the influence of the summer heat, and the then increased temperature of the hive, as well as from its inclined horizontal position,—this is guarded against by the precautional sagacity of the little creatures placing upon it from the deposit of the very first supply a sort of operculum, as before described, of a thicker consistency, which lies upon the top of its progressive increase, and thus prevents its oozing. It lies upon the honey across the transverse diameter of the cell, and consequently in a vertical position. Its purpose, like that of the flat pieces of wood which are placed upon the water of full pails when carried by the yoke, is to prevent its spilling or overflowing. This small cover has to be partially removed upon the arrival of a bee with fresh store, which she herself does by tearing aside a portion of it to enable her to regurgitate into the cavity the portion she has brought home; upon freeing herself from this she does not wait to restore the dilapidation she has caused, but proceeds on a fresh harvesting. Another bee, whose duty it is, then readapts this cover to its purpose, and repairs it. Their excursions to collect are variously estimated at from one to three miles, and they make about ten a day. The bees, in their temporary distribution of labour, are something like the Indians which have caste, among whom each service has its special servitor, who never undertakes or interferes with the duties of another. The collection of pollen is almost as needful to the well-being of a hive as honey, this being used exclusively as the basis of the sustenance of the new brood in their larva state, in all their conditions of worker, drone, and queen, the perfect bee itself never partaking of it. It is variously commingled upon its application to use with secretions of their own, which convert it into bee bread or royal jelly, as the case may be, to fit it for its special employment, which is done by the nurse-bees, who diligently attend to the nurture of all the young. The cells for storing this material are not so numerous as the honey-cells, and they are jotted about without any distinct order, amongst them. When a bee arrives with her store of pollen on the edge of one of these cells, she turns round with her back to it and thrusts it in as fast as she can free it from her legs, both by their aid and the twisting about of her abdomen, and then, like the honey-gatherer, commences another journey. As soon as she is gone, another bee manipulates it with a small stock of honey, and packs it closely in. Whilst all this is doing, the set which watch the condition of the hive, like surveyors, to apply repairs where necessary, or to add strength and further support to the suspended cakes of comb, impatiently await the return of the collectors of propolis; this they tear from their shanks as fast as they arrive and as quickly as they can, for it rapidly hardens, especially in fine hot weather, and they convey it away for their requirements, whilst those which collected it fly off for fresh supplies, should more be needed. Concurrently with the execution of all these things, wax is still being secreted by festoons of bees suspended wherever there is space, the sculpturer bees are still moulding cells, the queen is still laying eggs, deferentially attended, as usual, by her maids of honour; the young brood is still being fed; other bees are ventilating the hive at its entrance and within its streets and lanes by the rapid vibration of their wings; the sentinels are diligently keeping guard to repel the inimical intrusion of wasps or snails or woodlice, or the moth which is so destructive to the interior in her larva state, from the covered moveable silken retreat which she constructs impervious to the sting, and thence with impunity gets at the silk of the cocoons and consumes the wax, making, when once fairly domiciled, such fearful havoc in the hive that the bees are fain to desert it,—and the many other numerous enemies which lust for the luscious honey, or whose voracity is attracted by the poor little diligent bees themselves, but who in such contingencies exhibit invincible courage, which, if not always successful in its efforts, is always meritorious. Where self-preservation is not the prompter, or the rivalry of love the instigator, but the duration of which is limited to a season, the feuds of the animal world all seem to proceed from the urgency of their gastronomic suggestions, the acrimony of which urges craft and strength to their most powerful exhibition. To allay hunger, destruction is perpetrated and order despoiled, and thus our bees become the victims of the imperativeness of this universal law. But sometimes they are triumphant over a very large enemy; for instance, an intrusive mouse, or a slug that has slimed its way through the arched portal. They have been known to kill these enemies within the hive as they could not make them withdraw, but perplexity results from their success; they are, however, gifted with the sagacity to know that the putridity of these masses will poison with its effluvia the atmosphere of their city which no ventilation can purify, and they convert that part of their metropolis into a mausoleum, covering the carcases with a coating of propolis, alone or mixed with wax, as before noticed. Those which execute this summary martial law are the sentinels—the armed police of the hive—which guard its entrance and avenues, and patrol its streets and lanes and passages. Concurrently with all these doings, scavengers are heedfully conveying away any particles of dirt or other undesirable superfluity which may have accidentally found its way in. That all these labours produce fatigue and exact rest is proved by the circumstance that many bees are always observed in a state of repose,—perhaps only forty winks during the day just to restore exhausted energy,—for they are soon seen again to resume their toil, this inactivity never being idleness. Whether they proceed with the same kind of employment upon the renewal of their work is not known, nor how long lasts a particular kind of labour, but the change of occupation may be one of frequent occurrence, and it may be presumed that each bee severally and successively undertakes each task, that the faculty for exercising it may not be extinguished. It is very possibly a daily change, which circulates through the entire civic population of workers.

Although the labours of the bees are divided, we do not find that even the most successful observers, who have had every opportunity, by the nature of the hives they possessed, and the sagacity they applied to the detection of the most minute particulars, have been enabled to discover that these workers were permanently separated into distinct classes,—indeed, although surmising from this distribution of labour that such might be the case, and thus made alert to the discovery of its positive confirmation by direct observation, they have never been able to do so; and they strongly deny it, maintaining that these duties are individually transferable, and that they are not restricted to certain classes, already sufficiently implied by the organization of the workers. Huber, it is true, states that the wax-sculpturers—those which finish the cells to their nicety of perfection—are smaller than any of the rest of the community, to facilitate their operations within the cells, which may perhaps be a foregone conclusion.

The idea of administrative vigilance in the distribution of the labour of the community is strongly corroborated by the fact that all the labours proceed _pari passu_ and in equable order, no excessive preponderance of any particular work having been observed, which would certainly sometimes be the case were there no limiting control over their individual action, and thus the harmonious concurrence of all to one effect seriously disturbed. The supposition is also strengthened by the unfailing attendance of the queen’s numerous and deferential retinue, some one or other of whom, every now and then, quits that service—perhaps as an envoy on business of government—and is replaced by another. All these many circumstances lead to the presumption that the queen is the heart of the whole body, the organ which forces forward the circulation through its diverse channels, giving to all the temperate pulsation of vigorous health.

The hive is, of course, quite dark within, and to carry on the numerous operations which we have noticed are done there, either sight of a peculiar nature must lend its aid, or some faculty residing in a sensation analogous to touch, but which it may be cannot be known, nor where it may lie, but if it exist its organ is most probably the antennæ. We can, it is true, compute their eyes, which comprise more than sixteen thousand, namely, about eight thousand in each of the compound organs placed laterally upon the head, each separate eye being an hexagonal facet furnished with its separate lens and capillary branch of the optic nerve, and also edged with short hair; in this hair, therefore, may lie the particular sensation which guides them, for we cannot be sure that this large congeries of hexagonal facets facilitate sight in the dark, as in number and position they do not exceed or differ from the analogous structure and number of the same organs in many other insects which we know to be only seers by day, and which repose at night; but the hairy addition to the eyes of these bees is a structure not observed in them.

This constitution of the hive and its various operations continues during the remainder of the season until the approach of winter cautions them from venturing abroad, when, if the temperature of the hive is much lowered, they hibernate and remain in a torpid condition until the sunshine of the following spring, and with it the flowering of plants, rouses them again to resume their suspended labours. The population of the hive having continued to increase, although not so vigorously as at first, up to the very intrusion of winter, and the renewed year giving renewed energy to the queen, the population thence rapidly further increasing, it becomes inconveniently thronged, especially as spring advances and hot weather sets in. These promptings then urge her to lay drone eggs, for which preparations have already been made by the workers, who have already framed for their reception—they being much larger insects—larger cells moulded precisely in the same manner, and which are also used occasionally as receptacles for honey, and always skirt the bottom of the several combs. This task she has completed in about five days, and it is carried on precisely in the same way as is practised in the case of the neuters; and they are nurtured by nursing-workers just like them. Of these eggs she lays, as before said, about a thousand, and the workers by some instinctive faculty have framed about such a number of the needful cells. The transformations of the drone occupy about twenty-four or twenty-five days, of which three are passed in the maturing of the egg which then hatches into the larva. This occupies nearly seven days in attaining its full growth, and the remaining portion of the time is spent in its spinning its cocoon, in the same way as the larva of the worker does, and it changes into the imago. To effect all these changes in the transformations of all the sexes, a heat of about seventy degrees is indispensable, but that of the hive in summer is considerably higher. They as well as the workers are assisted to emerge from the cocoon by some of the older workers, who use their mandibles to bite through the enclosure, and who also help to cleanse them from their exuviæ.

Concurrently with the formation of the brood cells of the drones, some of the workers are constructing cells to receive the royal eggs. These cells are totally unlike the other cells of the hive, and are of a sort of pear-shape five times as large as the drone cells, and are attached laterally to the edges of the comb in a vertical position, with the narrowest part, which is the orifice, hanging downwards. In the forming of these cells the workers are very lavish of their wax, making the coats of them thick and opaque, and they are irregularly rough outside, but within very smoothly polished. Just as the construction of these cells intervenes irregularly with the formation of the cells of the drones, so does the queen intermit at intervals the laying of the drone eggs to deposit occasionally an egg in one of the royal cells, which are not usually completed at the time she commences laying them, but are finished afterwards, even during the time the larva is growing. This provision seems to be made for the earliest development of the young queens after the drones come forth, with the possible prevision that the sooner all of these young queens are fertilized that are needful for the requirements of the swarms that the hive may throw off, the sooner will the hive be rid of the incumbrance and the consumption of stores caused by the drones. The transformations of the queens take place more rapidly than the others, for in sixteen days they are completed, of which three are occupied in hatching the egg, and for five they are feeding as larvæ, and in that time attain their full growth; the cell is then closed in with a waxen cover by the workers, and the full-fed larva within is occupied in spinning its cocoon, which it takes twenty-four hours to accomplish. This cocoon is unlike that of the drones and workers, both of which completely enclose the pupa, but the royal larva only forms so much of a cocoon as will cover the head and thorax, and by which imperfection she unconsciously facilitates her destruction by her rivals in case they are permitted to attempt it before she emerges,—this being supposed to be the object of it, as the close texture of the silk of the cocoon would intercept the action of the rival queen’s sting. In this state she remains in complete repose up to a part of the twelfth day, and it takes about four days more to change into the imago, which is ready to emerge on the sixteenth. In her larva state she has been very carefully and profusely supplied by her nurses with the royal jelly, made in the manner before described. This royal jelly is very stimulating, it is pungent, rather acescent, and is very different from the food supplied to the drone- and worker-larvæ. A great many of the drones being now perfect insects, some young queen, that is ready to go forth, is at length permitted to do so by her guardian protectors, for the old queen is already aware of her existence, and has more than once attempted her destruction, but from which she has been prevented. At a suitable opportunity this young queen issues, attended by a bevy of drones; she immediately ascends in a spiral direction high into the air, far out of sight, and is followed by her suitors. Their larger capacity of flight speedily permits them to overtake her, and they ascend above her; one being favoured, the rest descend again, and either at once return to the hive or frolic about in its vicinity. It is not long before this young queen returns, matured into an incipient mother. Now comes renewed hostility from her own parent, who is still prevented from the murderous assault, but who succeeds in ejecting her young rival. During this contest the hive has become a scene of confusion, and the preliminaries and accompaniments of fresh swarming take place, and in going forth she is accompanied by a large body of the present population, and thus the first swarm of the fresh season is thrown off. Other queens become gradually developed, and other swarms similarly accompany them, but each swarm successively diminishes in the number of its participating emigrants, the last consisting perhaps of not more than two thousand. The order of the hive is speedily restored after each swarming convulsion has subsided, until the population being sufficiently reduced, the motive to leave is destroyed, and the queen is then permitted to execute her murderous onslaught on the hapless young queens, which are either still embryonic, or, if developed, have not been allowed to leave their cells; but, where they have done so, and are still within the hive, her attendants and the old queen’s attendants open their ranks, and the furious rivals attack each other. The contest is sharp but short, the young queen is stung to death, the body is conveyed away, and the old queen reigns paramount. Her next effort is to destroy the royal brood in their cells; the cells she tears to pieces, the young ones within, where developed, may be heard uttering a plaintive cry, whilst she sounds a triumphant note as loud as the highest note of a flute. Her throne is now free from pretenders, and after the expulsion of the drones, which then takes place, the entire harmony of the hive is restored for another season. The queen meanwhile is growing old, a new spring has set in, her stock of eggs is being exhausted, and mortality, which afflicts even royalty itself, lays her low. Now comes into operation that extraordinary faculty possessed by these insects. Her death has taken place after she had laid new spring eggs, which are to produce a further addition of neuters and a supply of drones. The loss of their queen is soon communicated to the inhabitants of the hive, confusion ensues, and labour is suspended. They group about in clusters of a dozen or more, and after about a day’s intermission of the ordinary routine of labour they appear to have come to a resolution. Bustle is again renewed, and several, as the delegates of the general body, pass into the midst of the neuter brood cells, tear down the separating walls of three, kill two of the very young larvæ, convert these three cells into one by fitting alterations, and transfer the care of this vermicle to the nursing-bees. Under their care, they heedfully feeding her with the royal jelly, her transformations speedily are completed, and whilst this is being done, drones are coming forth. As soon as she is ready she is aided to quit her cell. She now leaves the hive, and the drones which are already perfected accompany her; she makes her wedding tour in the air, and quickly returns as the queen-regnant of the rejoicing monarchy, whose vacant throne is again royally occupied, and the entire harmony of the hive renewed.

The quantity of pollen that is collected in the course of a season, by the diligence of the bees, has been estimated at from sixty to seventy pounds; and the weight of the honey, so affluent a hive will produce by abstraction from the bees, is calculated at as much as sometimes fifty pounds. This, however, must be vastly exceeded by the quantity collected, as it is being constantly consumed for sustenance, and for the secretion of the raw material of wax, as well as for the production of the liquid which converts this into its mouldable consistency. It is possible to estimate pretty nearly the quantity of honey required for each secretion of the raw material, by finding what the honey-bag will contain when gorged, as it is this quantity which seems to make the eight scales of it upon the ventral plates, for they cannot convey more up when they hang themselves in the festoons to secern it. But it is impossible to know what addition this liquid from their mouths makes to it when they manipulate it into its plastic state, other bees often undertaking this task, which may apply themselves to it with a larger stock than the wax secreters possess, they being perhaps already exhausted by their labours. It is a singular fact that wax is more rapidly and largely made by feeding the bees with dissolved sugar than from the honey they collect themselves, the sugar thus evidently containing more of its productive elements.

Some of the labours within the hive are apparently continued at night, or the bees may be then revelling, after the day’s toils, in social enjoyment, or otherwise more worthily employed; for, to use the words of the benevolent apiarian, the Rev. Wm. Chas. Cotton, “If you listen by a hive about nine o’clock, you will hear an oratorio sweeter than any at Exeter Hall. Treble, tenor, and bass are blended in the richest harmony. Sometimes the sound is like the distant hum of a great city, and sometimes it is like a peal of hallelujahs.”

This is the history of the hive and its inhabitants. Modifications may occasionally occur, but nothing of sufficient consequence seriously to affect or neutralize this ordinary routine. It would occupy space already too largely encroached upon to go into these minute particulars, which, although parts of their general history, where treated of in special detail, are not necessarily the province of a work which speaks of them as but one member of the family of which it collectively discourses. As the space occupied by what was really essential to be known about them, has exceeded the due dimensions of their share to it, although of paramount interest, infinitely greater than that which attaches to the economy of the whole of the rest of the group combined, it will not, I trust, be considered that I terminate abruptly, in drawing here to a close.

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The close of the work concurs with the termination of the history of its crowning marvel; and I take leave of my readers, with a reiteration of the hope that it may stimulate them to undertake a study, wherein, each step of their progress, expands the delightful contemplation of the manifestations of the predominance of a vast design, emanating from the paternal benevolence of an august, supreme, and wisely superintending Providence.

“To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.”—_Milton._

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GENERAL AND GLOSSARIAL INDEX.