Chapter VIII (2)

I was greatly pleased on seeing the Amazons return to the artificial ant-hill, and confide their booty to their auxiliaries. This was a flattering omen for the success of my experiment, and from this period I indulged the hope of seeing the manners and habits of these insects fully developed. That I might not alarm them by the introduction of a strong light before they had fully established themselves in the _ruche_, the shutters were kept, for some time, completely closed. I was, however, extremely impatient to witness the interior, and it was now time to ascertain the extent of their labours, and observe the immediate consequences attending the capture of the pupæ. When I opened the shutters, I was agreeably surprised in viewing, at one glance, the whole of the interior of the ant-hill. The ants had mined the entire mass of earth. The glass, on one side, and the sheet of tin on the other, served as walls to the several chambers they had excavated. All their passages, their halls, even to the smallest apartments, were distinctly visible. They constituted irregular stories, some larger than others, the former were of greater elevation, the latter more elongated or narrowed. It was evident the ants had _mined_, and not _masoned_, or worked up the earth: what they had drawn from the interior, was heaped up upon the last ceiling or roof. The walls were rendered so compact and solid as to run little risk of being thrown down by the weight of the materials they supported.

Here the pupæ and larvæ were collected in the large chambers. There the Amazon army was stationed. In another place, the main body of auxiliaries were assembled. I had scarcely time to make these observations, the ants being much alarmed by the sudden introduction of the light. The Amazons left their garrison, and ran over the glass, but re-assembled, in a short time, in the most elevated part of the building, and formed themselves in groups close to the vault or roof. The Negro Ants, at the same moment, seized the larvæ and pupæ, carried them to the darkest places, passed through the holes in the sheet of tin, and reached the side opposite to that where I was taking my observations, the shutter of which had not been opened. By degrees, I was enabled so to manage the light that it should no longer alarm these insects, or at least so triflingly, that tranquillity might be speedily restored. I could thus follow them in their operations (which was absolutely necessary) at my ease.

The Amazons always grouped on or affixed to the ceiling of their underground chambers[1], did not quit their position, but to approach the Ash-coloured Ants, whose assistance was a point of vital importance. I saw none of them approach the larvæ or pupæ, or touch the provisions I had placed within reach; nor did meat and honey ever tempt them. I witnessed, in its fullest extent, the great care with which the auxiliaries treated them; the latter were constantly occupied in nourishing and brushing them; carrying them from one quarter of the ant-hill to another; conducting them where the temperature was highest, reassembling them with their companions, &c. I also observed a large body of the auxiliaries surrounding a Rufescent female without wings, for whom they expressed great solicitude; the rest of the males and females were on the outside of the ant-hill, attended by a numerous _cortége_ of Ash-coloured Ants, and by some Amazons; they soon took flight and were never seen to return.

[1] The ceiling or roof of the chambers in which these insects are lodged, appears to constitute their favourite residence. This I found to be the case with some female ants I kept in confinement. It is highly probable this position against gravity is maintained by means of an apparatus similar to what Sir Everard Home has observed in regard to the house-fly, of which he has given a full description, in the _Philosophical Transactions_, for 1816. It is, no doubt, upon this principle, that ants are enabled to walk perpendicularly up walls, bearing in their pincers insects (of which we have many instances) considerably larger and heavier than themselves.--T.

Every day the Legionaries made fresh incursions on the neighbouring ant-hills, and thus considerably increased the number of their pupæ: but when once placed within the _ruche_ they were no longer the objects of their attention. It was now the business of the auxiliaries to attend and convey them to the different chambers, which is regulated by the hour of the day and direction of the sun. Some of the pupæ were still enveloped in their cocoon; others had been extricated from them: the Negro Ants often came, notwithstanding my presence, to liberate them from their imprisonment. The cocoon of the Amazon pupæ, consisted of a browner silk than that of the Ash-coloured pupæ, and was also one third longer; but their number did not equal those of the pupæ of the other cast. The larvæ of both species were placed in different apartments, for they had, without doubt, wants relative to their age; but the Ash-coloured Ants alone took care of and nourished them, &c. I once, however, saw an Amazon engaged in removing the last pellicle from one of the Ash-coloured pupæ; the Amazon took it up with the same delicacy as other ants, and the labourer, the object of its care, evinced no symptom of fear on its being so close to this warrior, who did it no injury, and left it as soon as it was liberated. This affords another instance, that the Amazons are not absolutely unqualified for labour.

The _ruche_ exhibited a greater population every day, and a considerable number of Ash-coloured Ants was developed there: these I recognised by their grey colour. I also saw young Amazon Ants, which were a little paler in colour than the old of the same species; both received every attention from the auxiliaries. Tranquillity and unanimity reigned in this mixed colony. The ants appeared perfectly happy in their abode, yet thought, however, of quitting it. The Ash-coloured species, wearied perhaps by the frequent opening and closing of the shutters, began to emigrate, and formed a little cavity in the turf, a few paces from the _ruche_. I deranged their operations and suspended their emigrations, by placing the _ruche_ in another situation; but some days after they discovered another dwelling, and recommenced their recruiting, when I took the precaution of closing the door, and bringing the artificial ant-hill back to my study. I there kept it a considerable time, and the confirmation was greater, from day to day, of what I had hitherto acquired. When the weather was favourable, (between the hours of three and five), I took it out and placed it on the grass, and always observed the Legionaries pay a visit to the neighbouring ant-hills. At length, expecting no further information, I resolved upon trying an experiment I had frequently meditated, and as often dismissed, on account of my close attachment to my prisoners: this was to bring into immediate combat two Legionary armies.

With this view I waited till I saw the Amazon Ants, inhabiting another mixed ant-hill, which was situated in the garden, quit it; when I hastened to place my artificial ant-hill full in front of their advancing column. After a trifling combat, which took place at the door of the _ruche_, those in the interior went out in force, when the enemy’s column appeared desirous to avoid battle, taking at first another direction, then returning and re-entering their nest. Several ants from the _ruche_ put themselves in pursuit: some went even as far as the enemy’s garrison, where they were retained; two or three only escaped, and these I observed returned in great haste. The entire army now left the _ruche_, and proceeded to the mixed ant-hill; I looked forward to a general battle, but when the column had arrived to within a few paces of the entrance, it fell back, with the exception of a small body, composed of about three hundred Legionary Ants, who continued their route, until they reached the ant-hill. The Amazons assembled on the surface appeared extremely agitated, as if they had foreseen the attack with which they were threatened. The combatants fought body to body; but the strangers threw themselves into a gallery with so much impetuosity, that the others could not restrain them. This courageous incursion did not succeed; they all perished, not however, without making great havoc; for when I saw the Amazons of the natural ant-hill resume their expeditions, I found their army reduced to one half its original number. The _ruche_ had not suffered so great a diminution. I replaced it upon the grass, and allowed the Ash-coloured Ants the liberty of emigrating, which they did, in the manner we have already described.

CHAP. XI.

HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE SANGUINE ANTS.

The Sanguine Ants present us compound ant-hills of a different kind. From their analogy to the Legionary Ants, they will be found to corroborate the preceding facts, and will still elucidate this subject, by the contrast of their conduct with that of the Legionaries, who pass from a state of combat to a state of ease.

They owe the name they bear to the colour of the head and thorax: the abdomen is ash-coloured and slightly bronzed; the feet of a blood-red. These ants are larger than the Legionaries, whom they resemble only in manners. In the general form of the body they have a greater similarity to Fallow Ants, than to those of any other species.

If I attribute the discovery of the Amazons entirely to chance, I owe the knowledge I have acquired of the manners and customs of the species now under consideration to observation alone.

In examining, one day, the interior of their nest, with the view of observing its arrangement, I noticed Ash-coloured mingled with the Sanguine Ants; they were, however, much less numerous than in Legionary ant-hills. The same intimacy appeared to exist between them and the Sanguine Ants, as between the auxiliaries and Amazons in mixed colonies. There is no difficulty in verifying this remark, since these ant-hills are more common than those of the Legionaries; they are also more within view, the Sanguine Ants coming to the surface of their nest more frequently than the mason ants of any other species. These habitations are, for the most part, situated near hedges which have a southern aspect. The earth of which they are composed, is mixed up with fragments of leaves, stalks of plants, moss, and little stones, which form a species of mortar difficult to break. This composition of the ant-hill, and its varied form, would have soon convinced me it was not the sole work of the Ash-coloured or Negro Ants, even had I not seen the Sanguine Ants, like them, occupied in going out during the rain, and profiting by it, in giving greater extent and elevation to their abode.

The Sanguine then take a share in the labours of the Negro Ant; they go out also, at times, in search of _pucerons_, but this duty principally devolves upon the auxiliaries; and upon them also the office rests, on their leaving the ant-hill in the morning, of re-opening the several doors that lead to it; for in this species, particular care is taken to close every evening, all the avenues, by blocking them up with whatever materials they find proper for the purpose.

One of the ordinary occupations of the Sanguine Ants, is the going in chase of certain little ants, which constitute their food. They never go out alone; they assemble in little troops, lie in ambuscade near the ant-hill, wait until some unwary inhabitant quits it, and then dart forth and secure their prey. The insects they meet on their road experience a similar fate, whenever they fall in their power.

In the Sanguine, as in other mixed ant-hills, we find neither males nor females belonging to the auxiliaries. The females of the Sanguine tribe are conspicuous for their varied colour; they have the head and thorax of a brilliant red, inclining to scarlet; the abdomen brown, the feet of a dark red. The males are black, with the exception of their feet, which are yellow; they closely resemble the males of the Ash-coloured Ants, but have a larger body; they leave their habitation at the same time as the females, accompanied, like those of the Legionary Ants, by a double _cortége_. There are so many points in which these ants agree, that I was led to suspect they procure the Negro Ants, much in the same way as the Legionaries. I watched their movements from day to day, and was, at length, a witness to several of their expeditions, which differ, in many respects, from those described in the preceding chapter. The following will convey a just idea of their tactics.

On the 15th July, at ten in the morning, a small division of the Sanguine Ants was dispatched from the garrison, and arrived in quick march, near a nest of Negro Ants, situated twenty paces distant, around which they took their station. The inhabitants, on perceiving these strangers, rushed forth in a body to attack them, and led back several prisoners. The Sanguine Ants made no further advance; they appeared to be waiting for some reinforcement. From time to time, little companies of these insects came from the garrison to strengthen the brigade. They now advanced a little nearer, and seemed more willing to run the risk of a general engagement; but in proportion as they approached the Negro dwelling, the more solicitous did they seem to dispatch couriers to the garrison, who arriving in great haste produced considerable alarm, when another division was immediately appointed to join the army. The Sanguine Ants, although thus reinforced, evinced little or no eagerness for combat, and only alarmed the Ash-coloured Ants by their presence. The latter took up a position in front of their nest of about two feet square, where nearly their whole force was assembled to await the enemy.

Frequent skirmishes take place all around the camp, the besieged always attacking the besiegers. The Negro Ants, judging from their number, announce a vigorous resistance; but distrusting their own strength, they look to the safety of the little ones confided to their care, and in this respect show us one of the most singular traits of prudence of which the history of insects can furnish an example. Even long before success is in any way dubious, they bring the pupæ from the subterranean chambers, and heap them up on the side of their nest, opposed to that where the Sanguine army is stationed, in order to carry them off with the greater readiness should the fate of arms be against them. Their young females escape on the same side. The danger becomes more imminent; the Sanguine Ants, sufficiently reinforced, throw themselves in the midst of the Negroes, attack them on all points, and arrive to the very gates of their city. The latter, after a brisk resistance, renounce its defence, seize upon the pupæ deposited on the outside, and convey them to a place of safety.[1] The Sanguine Ants pursue, and endeavour to steal from them their treasure. The whole body of Negro Ants are in flight; some few pass through the enemy’s rank, and at the hazard of their lives, enter once more their habitation, and expeditiously carry off the larvæ, that would otherwise remain devoted to pillage. The Sanguine Ants descend into the interior, take possession of the avenues, and appear to establish themselves in the devastated city. Little bands of troops continually pour in from the garrison, and begin taking away the remainder of the larvæ and pupæ, establishing an uninterrupted chain from one ant-hill to the other: thus the day passes and night comes on, before they have transported all their booty. A considerable number of Sanguine Ants still remain in the Negro residence, and on the following morning, at break of day, recommence the transfer of the rest of its contents. When they have taken away all the pupæ and larvæ, they then carry each other to the garrison, a few only remaining behind.

[1] Is it not surprising that the Ash-coloured, when attacked by the Sanguine Ant, should follow a different line of conduct to what they pursue, when they have any engagement with the Legionaries. The impetuosity of the latter allows them no time for defence. The tactics of those besieging being different, those of the besieged will always be so. But can we form any idea how Nature has taught them to take precautions proportionate to the danger?--A.

But I perceive some ants moving in a different direction; their number increases; a new resolution has doubtless been taken by these truly warlike insects; a considerable recruiting takes place on the compound ant-hill, in favour of the pillaged city: and in this they at length establish their residence. Every thing is transported thither with the greatest promptitude; pupæ and larvæ, males and females, auxiliaries and Amazons; indeed, every thing the garrison contains, is removed to the habitation acquired by conquest; and the Sanguine Ants renounce for ever their natal abode. They establish themselves on the spot, and in place of the Negro Ants, and from thence undertake new incursions.

I was a witness to several such scenes, but shall content myself with describing one only. I established a Sanguine compound ant-hill in a glazed apparatus, such as that described in the preceding chapter. This I one day placed at a little distance from a Negro dwelling, which soon became the object of a regular siege. After the Sanguine Ants had driven away its inhabitants, and conveyed to their glazed habitation or _ruche_, a part of the pupæ, they came to a sudden decision of changing their domicile, and in a few hours removed the whole of its contents, and established themselves with their auxiliaries in the enemy’s habitation. They do not, however, change their abode on each invasion of a Negro ant-hill; but it is of rare occurrence if they quit not in the course of the year the one they occupy.

One of the principal features of the wars levied upon Ash-coloured Ants, seems to consist in exciting fear; and so effectual does this prove, that the Negro Ants on no occasion return to their besieged capital, even when the oppressors have retired to their own garrison; they, perhaps, well know they could never remain long in safety, and would be continually liable to the attacks of their unwelcome visitors. This new species of Amazon, almost invariably follows the same route; hence, it happens, that on the least signal, they know what direction they are to take. They sometimes go a hundred and fifty paces distance, in search of a Negro habitation, and their attacks are always made by small divisions; which, as before stated, succeed and assist each other by means of couriers, evidently sent off for that purpose to the garrison.

The invasions of the Sanguine Ants, although so destructive to the peace of their enemies, are yet, happily, less frequent than those of the Legionaries. They pillage only five or six ant-hills in the course of a summer; and the time appropriated to this object, is much more limited; for they must, in the period of one month, bring in all the pupæ they may want. The Sanguine Ants, endowed with a considerable share of activity, are content with a much less number of slaves or domestics than the Rufescent Ants. The pupæ, purloined by the Sanguine Ants, are developed some time in August: and at that period we find in their nest a greater number of auxiliaries. The Sanguine Ants could scarcely do without them; occupied continually in the chase, and now and then called upon to go forth in an entire body, to the assistance of their compatriots, they would be obliged to leave their little slaves at home unattended; moreover, the Negro Ants are better qualified than they to take care of the larvæ; to them, therefore, is entrusted this important duty.

When the Sanguine Ants change their domicile, they take especial care to convey with them their auxiliaries; for whom, when their dwelling is attacked by other ants, they evince the strongest affection. I have seen the Sanguine, when besieged by the Fallow Ants, carry off, in haste, to the subterranean apartments their auxiliaries; when the latter, on being left, seemed to fulfil the intention of their protectors, by closing and barricading with care all the avenues, making use of such materials as were immediately within reach.

I shall now give an instance of their prudence and foresight, upon which I slightly touched in the chapter on war. In case of disaster, they always take care to provide a retreat, and whilst one party is engaged in defending the colony, another party bear away the Negro Ants or auxiliaries, who immediately begin constructing a new dwelling, at a considerable distance from the scene of combat.

We have noticed, among Rufescent Ants, two species of auxiliaries--Ash-coloured and Mining Ants. The latter are also highly useful to the Sanguine Ants, who attack their habitations in the same way, and much under the same circumstances as the nests inhabited by Negro Ants. But what is highly worthy of remark is, that there should exist ant-hills composed of three different species of ants--the Sanguine, the Ash-coloured, and the Mining Ant. This has been fully confirmed by my having observed an army of Sanguine Ants form into two divisions, when the one attacked a Mining and the other a Negro ant-hill.

I shall now bring these observations to a close by stating a fact, which fully demonstrates the influence of habit upon the natural disposition of ants. I placed, in a box, a few pupæ of the Sanguine and Rufescent Ant, under the guard of some Ash-coloured labourers. These pupæ became adult ants, and although Amazons, lived together in great amity under the same roof, thus corroborating the facts formerly mentioned.

The history of Amazon Ants and their auxiliaries still proves, that if education can efface the hatred existing between different species, and consequently enemies, it effects no change in their instinct and character, since the Amazons and their slaves, brought up with the same care, and under the management of the same nurses, live in the mixed ant-hill under very different laws.

My readers are, perhaps, inclined to believe, that I have been led aside by a love of the marvellous, and that, to give more interest to my narrative, I have added something, by way of embellishment, to the facts I have observed. But the more I am attracted by the wonderful display of nature, the less am I inclined to alter it by any _mélange_ of the imagination.

I have endeavoured to cast aside every illusion, prejudice, or ambition of saying any thing new, prepossessions in favour of cursory observations, love of systems, &c. holding to that disposition, which I may term neutral; ready to admit every fact of whatever nature it be, provided it be confirmed by close observation.

If the facts adduced afford ample proof that ants are endowed with higher faculties than we have hitherto granted them, we must attribute it to the subject itself; hence the necessity under which I have laboured, of employing many terms and comparisons, that, on a first glance, appear rather bold, although founded on the close connection between the human race and the insect living in society.

Among those I have taken to witness the discovery of mixed or compound ant-hills, I may mention the learned professor Jurine.[2] This gentleman had the kindness to identify their existence, by examining, separately their contents.

[2] This celebrated naturalist, who resided at Geneva, has within these few weeks breathed his last. His writings, together with his splendid cabinet of insects, furnish ample proof of his talents and industry.--T.

To this honourable testimony I shall add but one more--Nature herself! who is ready to answer every doubt, every objection; it is easy to interrogate her: I have put my reader in the way, by describing my means of observation, and I dare assure naturalists, who will deliver themselves over to this study, they will meet a full recompense for the trouble and time they devote to it by the inexhaustible pleasure of discovering new truths.

CHAP. XII.

OBSERVATIONS ON THOSE INSECTS THAT LIVE IN REPUBLICS.

Although we have yet much to learn respecting the manners and habits of insects; we may still, I think, from the observations which have been brought together, attempt their distribution according to the developement of their instinct, so as to be enabled to rectify mistakes, when subsequent discoveries shall have adduced fresh information.

This classification does not exactly answer to the chain in which Bonnet has ranged all living beings, by tracing resemblances between their organization: still less does it correspond with those systematic divisions, established by distinguished naturalists; it, however, serves to show us the true plan of nature, in proving, that she is not always subject to that material order which strikes our senses; that she has varied _ad infinitum_ her combinations; and that there are general rules founded upon moral characters, divisions and subdivisions in the intellectual, as well as in the physical part of creation, which, I hope, one day, fully to demonstrate. I shall detach from this plan only a few opinions, having reference to those insects which live in society; they form a separate class, of which we have not yet well ascertained the nature and the relation. Pre-eminence, if such exists between these republics, cannot be determined, until we have compared with much care and attention, the spirit, labours, character, and laws of each.

To assign as nearly as possible, the place they occupy in the class of insects, let us set aside those animals, whose size, strength, usefulness, and even ferocity, impose upon our judgment; let us suppose for a moment, that man himself did not exist, and let us see what part these different colonies would then act upon this globe, (whose members are associated for one common interest,) in the midst of that crowd of isolated beings, which display only a limited instinct, having habitudes rather than manners, subjected to rules rather than laws, and unconscious of either country or family.

In the first rank would appear those societies of industrious flies, which are established in hollow trees, and in the crevices of our rocks: they feed upon the nectar of flowers, and secrete honey and wax; they never employ their arms but to defend their country, the treasures they have accumulated, and the young they are rearing; the outside of their habitation presents nothing grand or imposing, but the interior is formed upon a regular plan, uniting elegant proportions with the most rigid œconomy.

That family whose colouring is more brilliant, lives by carnage and rapine: its empire extends over every insect it can pierce with its sting, and every kind of fruit that its teeth enable it to penetrate; its dwelling, like to a balloon, is sometimes suspended in the air, from the branches of a tree; at another time, resembles a fortress, of which nothing indicates the existence without, hidden in the earth, and tenanted by a highly dreaded race.

At length come those colonies which cover the surface of the earth, and whose republics are so numerous, that the globe would not suffice them, had not Nature set just limits to their production. A multitude of insects become their prey. The small size of the individuals is compensated by their number; but force is not their principal reliance. Neither the flowers nor fruits furnish them with their ordinary food; this is the object of a taste more refined. The colonies of which we are now speaking, go and collect it from certain pacific beings, which live in societies, and bestow upon them, unconstrained, the juices they extract from plants. These colonies possess the art of making themselves understood, of assembling these insects in their habitation, and of defending them against the attacks of their enemies.

Those insects which live in republics, yield doubtless to many others in size, strength, and swiftness. Nature, in a lower degree, produces its monsters: the spider, dung-chafer, rove-beetle, scorpion, like so many ferocious beasts, retired to their covert, await the passage of flies, worms, butterflies, caterpillars, which they attack and destroy, experiencing no kind of resistance. Our astonishment is again excited at the gigantic proportions of those dung and stag-beetles, whose peaceable dispositions strongly contrast with the arms with which they are provided. Here the diversity of the production arrests our attention; this insect lives in corrupted matter, that insect dwells on the body of another animal; these have but an ephemeral existence, those pass their life in idleness, flitting by thousands from flower to flower, without being conscious either of an habitation or a single relation. Shall we compare to insects, organised in a republic, those processionary caterpillars, whose sole talent consists in their knowing how to spin, in common, a web, in which they undergo their transformation, and in their leaving behind them in their march, threads which serve to guide their companions, or those swarms of crane-flies, collected in the air, by the sole attraction of the sexes, or those myriads of ephemeræ, which have but one day, one hour, to quit the waters, congregate, and die? Or shall we place in the same rank those clouds of locusts, without laws, without police, whose assembling appears to have no other object than the devastation of the countries they traverse, and those regular societies that know how to establish a common abode, adapted to the rearing of their young, and their own safety? If these wandering insects inspire us with any interest, it cannot be by placing at their side objects, whose comparison would be disadvantageous to them; let us, therefore, return to the parallel of those, whose manners and habits announce a certain degree of civilization.

Can we sufficiently admire the skill the bee displays in the distribution of that ductile substance, with which it constructs its combs, in forming that double rank of hexagonal cells with pyramidal bottoms, (the base of which serves as a partition for three other cells,) those parallel streets, and those magazines, which it fills with provision for the winter, &c.? This is the insect which amasses real provision, inclosing it and guarding it with care.[1]

[1] We have, at all times, admired the structure of the combs of bees: the angles of the cells have been measured by skilful geometricians; but we are yet ignorant of the manner in which these industrious insects construct them. My father, after assiduous researches, has at length discovered the secret of their architecture, and will, ere long, present to the public a very extensive memoir upon this subject.--A. I need scarcely add, that this memoir has been since published, and contains much interesting information on the subject; indeed, it is very generally known in this country, and merits the highest commendation.--T.

The wasp, by a particular art, is enabled to avail itself of the oldest and driest wood, in the formation of a substance similar to the finest pasteboard, with which it fabricates its nest: the cells which it constructs, are placed horizontally, suspended from each other: less skilful than the bee in measuring the angles of these cells, it does not form them in double rank, although the substance it employs is of much less value. It envelopes these cells in a common covering, which it can enlarge commensurate with its wants. By means of a juice or liquid, that proceeds from its mouth, it is enabled to unite and glue together the several particles of which its habitation is composed.

The nests of humble-bees present different appearances: here, we find these insects dwelling under a roof of moss; there, under a vault of wax. Their provisions are not collected to any extent, and are so exposed, that any may go and obtain refreshment when they like; but what is singular, the cells which contain their honey, have not been fabricated expressly for this purpose; the webs which they spin, in the first state of their existence, serves for this new use, and the coarse wax they elaborate, is employed in narrowing or lengthening these reservoirs, in constructing new cells for their young, and in forming an envelope which preserves the nest from humidity.

Let us now approach that hillock of straw, which we observe in the midst of the forest; under that inclined roof, a numerous republic finds an asylum against the injuries of the air. By a well-regulated police, the gates are closed during the night, and guarded through the day; several avenues lead to the bottom of this subterraneous city; it is found to contain numerous stories, both above and underneath the surface of the ground, and is so constructed that the water can never gain admittance.

Farther off, I observe a crowd of masons (ants) occupied in raising a building of immense size for insects so diminutive; they neither employ in its construction, like the bee, a valuable material which they have themselves formed, nor a light and thin substance resembling the finest pasteboard, such as that the wasp uses in the formation of its nest; its mortar is already prepared, the earth, rain-water, and the benefit of the sun, is all that is required in their masonry. The foundations of a new story are laid, walls are raised, ceilings are constructed, and their abode is arranged, with a view rather to convenience than regularity.

Here I observe, proceed from the trunk of a tree, a file of ants; they have hewn out in the solid wood vast chambers, a multitude of lodges and stories, corridors and colonnades, to which the air has free access.

On removing to another country, I observe a certain species of ant, availing itself of the down of a cotton-plant to shelter, more warmly and commodiously, the little ones confided to its care. No insect, indeed, presents such a variety in their dwellings; a particular talent seems to be displayed in the labours of each, indicating to them the nature and use of the several substances within reach.

Let us pass from their architecture to the cares they bestow upon the rising generation. What a contrast is there not afforded between the social insects, and those that lead a solitary existence; the latter are, for the most part, unacquainted with their family; they provide for their necessities, establish their dwelling, but very few will see the egg to which they give birth. This affixes its eggs around a branch; that trusts them to a fragile leaf; another abandons them to the current of the waters: some place them in the sand, like the ostrich, leaving them to be brought to perfection by the heat of the sun; others, the isolated mothers, prepare themselves (before laying) the food for the larvæ which will proceed from their eggs; some, furnished with an instrument for this purpose, deposit them in the body of a living fly, in the larvæ of other insects, or in the skin itself of the larger animals; others, by means of a double saw, lodge them in the bark of trees. These form subterraneous caverns, in which they arrange caterpillars near their offspring, who, on quitting the egg, find the food they require; others form a chamber in the earth, which they adorn with rose and poppy-leaves: they prepare for the nourishment of their young a paste, composed of honey and the pollen of plants; they deposit their eggs; their task is finished; they die.

The greater number of solitary insects, guided by a blind instinct, assure themselves of the existence of the succeeding generation, but they do not live sufficiently long to see the developement of their young; we cannot, therefore, refer their conduct to motives of affection.

Those insects which live in society are devoted to the care of their family; there reigns between them an intimate bond of union, from which result relations that cannot exist among the former. What an interesting scene is there not offered to us on viewing this hive of bees, that nest of humble-bees, those wasps, and, particularly, these ants. I see the humble-bee prepare a cell for its young, which it partly fills with the food necessary for their preservation, under a fear, perhaps, of not being able, alone, to satisfy their wants: if their provisions are exhausted, the mother nourishes them herself; she visits the flowers, and then returns to her nest, bestowing upon the larvæ which are disclosed the most assiduous attention: she enlarges their cell, and watches over their safety, until they become themselves real workers, capable of assisting her in taking care of those to whom she is about to give birth. A society is established between the mother and her young: each day the circle of her relations is extended, and the union is rendered more perfect.

Among bees, properly so called, an innumerable crowd of workers are produced from a single mother. If, however, maternal feelings and the delights of love are denied them, they do not the less evince their affection and solicitude for the young of their common mother; they nourish them, and defend them with a zeal and disinterestedness truly praiseworthy.

The ants carry still further this devotedness for their charge: they take care of and nurture them, even in the state of eggs, and give them _mouth-provision_ in that of larvæ: when the latter are become pupæ, they procure for them an agreeable temperature, and when they are ready to undergo their transformation, these are the common parents, who extricate them from their cocoons, taking care of them until they are in a condition to fly, or discharge the duties to which they are respectively called.

In consequence of these attentions to them in their infancy, there arises a reciprocal affection between these insects. Hence the nature of the society which we observe among them. Thus what principally distinguishes them from those insects which live in solitude, is the attention they bestow upon the education of their young.

But what a prodigy is that in nature, of being able to receive advantage from sterility itself, to ensure the preservation of the species; of inspiring the labourers with unbounded affection for the offspring of another mother, and confiding to them the charge of their education. The mother, too fecund to rear, unassisted, all her young, finds in her society, a number of assistants, who take upon themselves the several labours: these are endowed with the highest degree of industry, activity, zeal, and courage: fecundity alone is denied them.

In what rests the secret of this organisation, incomplete as to sex, perfect as to industry? Admirable combination of an incomprehensible nature! It has been fully proved, that bees can, in time of need, elect a queen from among the youngest larvæ; that the education, nourishment, and size of the cell destined for her, give rise to her being endowed with amazing fecundity, devoted to a state of repose, and receiving the homages of a numerous republic. Had it, however, been reared, like the other larvæ, it would have participated in the labours and dangers which fall to the lot of the workers. Can we conceive how means so simple should produce such powerful effects?

From such an institution arise those intimate and mutual relations, those assiduities which the education of the young requires, that assemblage of labours, that love for the country, that language, &c. we so much admire in these colonies. Every where else, each female lives separately. The only relations between solitary insects are occasioned by difference of sex; but, regarding those who live in society, we observe, a family more or less numerous, more or less powerful; all the members of which, of whatever order they be, understand each other, and yield mutual assistance; living, in common, upon the provision the workers bring in. This constitution is one of the wonders of nature; thus has she been pleased to establish several kinds of republics upon the same principle.

Among bees and ants, a multitude of workers are born each year; but in these republics there are but a small number of females. Let us now attend to those astonishing circumstances with which their impregnation is accompanied.

The mystery of the fecundation of the queen bee, has, from time immemorial, excited the attention of naturalists; it has, therefore, been the subject of the most profound researches; their respective authors passing from error to error, from conjecture to conjecture, came to doubt of the queen’s having sexual intercourse with the male. It was reserved for a mind eminently endowed with all those qualities which constitute the philosopher and naturalist, that penetration, that logic, that extension of thought, so uncommon, of interrogating nature by the organ of another[2], of, at length, decyphering those lines of the great book, which contain the surprising phenomenon, of which bees offer the only example.

[2] I rather think the author here alludes to the distressing state of his father, who has, for many years, laboured under the greatest of bodily privations--loss of sight. His ardour in the investigation of his favourite subject, suffered no diminution. A faithful domestic attended, and gave him information of what was passing in the interior of his glass-hives.--T.

At this period we observe a vast number of males in the hives; they quit them in a large body, and disperse. The young queen alone, without followers, leaves her abode, goes forth to be impregnated in the air, and returns to her numerous family, bringing back not only titles to the consideration of her subjects, but the indisputable proof, that the favoured male has lost his life in performing this last duty. A thousand curious circumstances attend this brilliant discovery.

Shall we at present speak of the combat of the queens; of their imprisonment; of the expulsion of the supernumeraries? Let us rather leave to the reader the pleasure of learning these astonishing truths in the original, and let us see what passes, under the same circumstances, with ants. In this instance, the males and females are distinguished from the unprolific race, by the faculty of flying. When the day of their departure arrives, they quit the nest in a crowd, accompanied by a numerous retinue of workers, who cannot follow them to any distance. They take flight, complete their junction in the midst of the swarms they form in the air, and never return to their original abode. The males in a short time perish; for they know not how to provide for their necessities; but the females are destined to extend the republics of their species; they are, therefore, under the necessity of going and establishing the foundations of them alone, and unassisted. One would be inclined to believe that the wings, with which they are provided, would be of advantage to them in their labours; but Supreme Intelligence has ordered it otherwise; for as soon as they are impregnated, they renounce that prerogative, which no longer agrees with their new condition, and tear away of their own accord, and with effect, those members which appear to us a gift from Heaven.

For what purpose has Nature required from them this sacrifice? Did she wish, in this way, to render them more sedentary? Or was it not rather in order to prevent their return to the natal ant-hill? This latter conjecture seems to me the most plausible. What would have happened did they possess the power of returning to their original family? That the ant-hills would not have been scattered, that they would have constituted but one immense habitation, which would soon have exhausted the resources of its neighbourhood. This inconvenience would have existed with bees, who do not reject their wings, had not that wisdom which regulates the universe, guarded against it, by inspiring the queens with mutual aversion and insurmountable dread of each other; so much so, that the oldest quits her abode, and leads off with her a part of her subjects, to found a new colony.

Humble-bees and wasps have not the power of re-assembling for the purpose of forming one entire colony. Nature, without depriving them of the use of their wings, guards against their abuse by dissolving every year their republics.

What admirable variety in her productions, and in her laws! What resources! With what care does she avoid repetition! It appears, that every possible combination exists at the same time. There, the republics are permanent; here, they are renewed every year. One of these nations sends off, each year, several colonies, and the numerous swarms go to tenant the woods and rocks; the other never divides; it rests entire; allowing the departure of only a few individuals, who go forth, separately, to found new societies. It was not sufficient to multiply these societies, it was still necessary to provide for their duration. These, then, are the means employed to sustain their population, from age to age. In the case of bees, one single female reigns over a numerous colony; her size, and especially her remarkable fecundity, secure her the homage of her subjects. She keeps up the population of the hive, and suffers none to dispute her authority. However, at the period when she gives birth to males, the bees, who are aware, perhaps, that she bears also the germs of females, prepare royal cells: in these she deposits her eggs; and the larvæ, when disclosed, become queens. The mother does not regard, without aversion, these individuals, who may contend with her for pre-eminence: she endeavours to destroy the objects of her anger; but the workers prevent her reaching those cells which contain their forthcoming chiefs. The queen, agitated with the fear of seeing them quit their cells, abandons the hive, accompanied by a numerous colony, leaving behind her several females destined to be her successors, who, after having disputed the empire, or induced one part of the inhabitants to desert with them, resign to one of their rivals, the sovereignty, or, at least, the right of depositing her eggs alone, in the hive which witnessed their birth.

A constitution, widely different, obtains with ants: several females equally divide the important functions of procreation; they do not evince that hatred, nor do we perceive any of that jealousy, of which we have an example in bees; they also receive, in common, the homages of the other casts. When the young females depart, for the purpose of founding new states, the inhabitants of each city, endowed with admirable prudence, retain some few to supply the place of those about to terminate their career. It is thus the population of each republic is sustained and increased.

The terms of Queens, of Subjects, of Constitution, of Republics, must not be taken according to the strict letter. The unity or plurality of females presents but a poor image of our different forms of governments: in truth, each of these orders follows the laws of its own instinct, without being conscious of any subordination; it, notwithstanding, happens, that some few possess over the rest a certain degree of influence, independent of any authority, properly so called.

The Termites, inhabitants of southern climates, also effect their union in the air, fall upon the ground, and lose, as we are informed, their wings. But who can teach us the secrets of their astonishing society? why nature has produced amongst them four sorts of individuals?--one single mother, who, when pregnant, becomes a hundred times more bulky than at first; winged males; apterous neuters, appointed to the household management, and the construction of their gigantic edifice; and others, instructed only in the arts of war. Reaumur, De Geer, Bonnet, &c. found without going any distance, subjects worthy of exciting their attention. All our riches in this department have not been yet explored. The wars of bees, already sung by a great poet,[3] would furnish their historian with a rich and brilliant subject. Hitherto, we have not been enabled to compare those in which ants engage, to those of any other species of animals.

[3] _Vide_ Virgil’s Georgics, 4th Canto. These combats have been described with great accuracy by the poet.--A.

If it be true, that war is one of the consequences of social order, what shall we be induced to think, on perceiving regular armies issuing from the gates of two rival cities, and going to the rencontre upon an eminence, where battle is given, and where equal courage and carnage are displayed on each side? What shall we say of those bodies of troops, who only wait the signal of danger, to come to the assistance of the advanced guard? of those champions, which struggle in pairs? of those chains of wrestlers, who balance their strength, and seize the favourable moment to destroy the equilibrium? of those prisoners led away to the enemy’s camp, &c.? Is not this a strong image of our serious quarrels?

But how strikingly does it contrast with our manners, that the arms, courage, military skill, should, in these republics, rest with the female sex[4]; whilst feebleness, idleness, and exile, fall to the lot of the males. Those of bees, still worse treated, are put to death, as soon as they have fulfilled their only functions. With wasps and humble-bees, they are also destitute of arms, and show no industry; but they are not the object of the fury of the workers: the severity of the winter, as they know not, like the females, how to shelter themselves, produces, generally speaking, their death. By what art are the workers charged with the defence of the republic, enabled to reconnoitre, understand, assist, and succour each other? The subtlety of their senses, or rather that unbounded affection which exists between them teaches them to distinguish, in their contests, their companions from their enemies: a language, significant and extremely rapid, informs them of the danger of their companions, or the success of their enterprise. This language is the bond of that union, you remark in this numerous family; it is not by sounds, or visible signs, but by contact alone, that it is manifested, more particularly by the antennæ, those organs which distinguish insects from all other living beings: these serve, in those species collected in societies, the noble purpose of communicating, from one individual to another, the impressions, situation, and necessities of each: the antennal language is, without doubt, imperfect, if we compare it with our wants, but amply suffices for those of ants.

[4] It must be remembered that the workers are not neuters, but females, whose moral, if I may use this expression, has been developed at the expense of their physical condition.--A.

Bees also make use of signs, although they are no strangers to sounds. When the queen wishes to lead away some part of the metropolis, to found a new city, she passes from rank to rank, striking and exciting each worker she meets, to accompany her: the movement is, at length, general through the whole hive, and the swarm rush into the open air.

Should any strange animal, or insect, attempt to enter their abode, the alarm is in an instant given, and a thousand lives are ready to be sacrificed; but when their queen, as yet a prisoner, emits a shrill, piercing cry, a general stupor immediately pervades the whole of the bees, they all incline their head, and seem as if paralysed.

Wasps are also acquainted with the mode of imparting information to their companions. When a single wasp discovers a strong-hold of sugar, honey, or other article of food, it returns to its nest, and brings off, in a short time, a hundred other wasps; but we are yet ignorant, if it be by visible, or palpable signs, they are mutually informed of this discovery.

It was in the nature of things, that all those beings living in society, should have a language; but ants, who appear, in several respects, to merit the pre-eminence over other insects, extend this faculty even to the pucerons, from whom they obtain their nourishment. The art, still more surprising, of rendering them domestic, has nothing analagous in the other republics of which we have spoken: this prerogative appears to touch upon the domain of man. But the Author of all things has limited the power of these petty republics, in not permitting them to make use of other arms than those with which they are naturally provided; the inventive faculties have been denied them, notwithstanding we have witnessed a few traits, which seem to announce some species of combination. Their wants and their means have been calculated beforehand, so that their instinct is not susceptible of being brought to higher perfection.