patience, and sometimes not without personal danger, has written more
than fifty pages on the subject, but they are very confused. For
myself, as I am not writing a scientific book, I shall confine myself
to describing what anybody can see if he will watch the movements of a
swarm in a glass hive. At the same time I shall not fail to avail
myself of Huber's studies whenever they may prove to be of service. We
must admit at the very outset that the process by which the honey is
transformed into wax in the bodies of this mysterious curtain of bees
is still hidden in mystery. All that we know is that after about
eighteen or twenty-four hours in a temperature so high that one might
almost imagine there was a fire in the hive, small, white, transparent
scales appear at the opening of the four little pockets which are to
be found on each side of the abdomen of the bee. When the larger part
of those who form the reversed cone have their abdomens decorated with
these little ivory plates, one of them may be seen, as if under the
influence of a sudden inspiration, to detach itself from the crowd and
climb over the backs of its passive brethren until it reaches the apex
of the cupola of the hive; attaching herself firmly to the top, she
immediately sets to work to brush away those of her neighbors who may
interfere with her movements. Then she seizes with her mouth one of
the eight scales on the side of her abdomen and chews it, clips it,
draws it out, steeps it in saliva, kneads it, crushes it, and makes it
again into shape as dexterously as a carpenter would handle a piece of
veneering. Then when the substance has been treated so as to bring it
to the desired size and to the desired consistency, it is affixed to
the very summit of the interior of the dome, and thus the first stone
is laid of the new city, or rather the key-stone of the new city is
placed in the arch, for we are considering a city turned upside down,
which descends from the sky and which does not arise from the bosom of
the earth as do terrestrial cities. Then she proceeds to apply to this
key-stone more of the wax which she takes from her body, and having
given to the whole of her part of the work one last finishing stroke,
she retires as quickly as she came and is lost in the crowd; another
replaces her and immediately takes up the work where she has left it
off, adds her own to it, puts that right which appears to her to be
not in conformity with the general plan, and disappears in her turn,
while a third and a fourth and a fifth succeed her in a series of
sudden and inspired apparitions, not one of whom finishes a piece of
work, but all bring to it their common share.
Now there hangs from the top of the vault a small block of wax which
is yet without form. As soon as it appears to be thick enough there
comes out of the group another bee bearing an entirely different
aspect from that of those which have preceded it. One may well believe
on seeing the certainty, the determination, with which he goes about
his work and the manner in which those who stand round about him look
on, that he is an expert engineer who has come to construct in space
the place which the first cell shall occupy, the cell from which must
mathematically depend everything which is afterwards constructed.
Whatever he may be, this bee belongs to a class of the sculpturing, of
chisel working bees who produce no wax and whose function seems to be
to employ the materials with which the others furnish them. This bee
then chooses the place of the first cell. She digs for a moment in the
block of wax which has already been placed in position, and builds up
the side of the cell with the wax that she picks from the cavity. Then
in exactly the same way as her predecessors have done, she suddenly
leaves the work she has designed; another impatient worker replaces
her and carries it on another step, which is finished by a third one.
In the meantime others are working round about her according to the
same method of division of labor until the outer sides of each wall is
finished.
It would almost seem that an essential law of the hive was that every
worker should take a pride in its work, and that all the work should
be done in common, and so to speak, unanimously, in order that the
fraternal spirit should not be disturbed by a sense of jealousy.
Very soon the outline of the comb may be seen. In form it is still
lenticular, for the little prismatic tubes of which it is composed are
unequally prolonged, and they diminish as they get away from the
centre towards the extremities. At this moment it might be compared,
both in form and in thickness, to a human tongue hanging down from two
of the sides of the hexagonal cells which are placed back to back.
As soon as the first cells are constructed, the workers add a roof to
the second and so on to the third and to the fourth. These sets of
cells are divided by irregular intervals, and they are calculated in
such a manner that when they are made to receive their full
complement, the bees always have room enough to move about between the
parallel walls of the honeycombs.
It follows then that in making their original plan the different
thicknesses of every honeycomb must be fixed upon, and at the same
time the alley-ways which separate each must be different in turn,
and this width must be twice the height of a bee since they have to
pass each other between the upright combs.
But even the bees are not infallible, and they do not always work with
exact mechanical certainty. When they find themselves in a difficult
place they sometimes make very great blunders. One often finds that
they leave too much, and often too little, space between the
honeycombs, and they remedy these faults as well as they
can--sometimes in finishing the comb which is too near another in an
oblique line, or sometimes when they have left too much space they
interpose a smaller comb between it.
Reamur, on this subject, says:--"Since bees sometimes make mistakes
and rectify them, this must be a proof that they possess the power of
reason."
[Illustration: QUEEN BEE.]
It is known that bees make four different kinds of cells. There are
first the "royal cells" which are exceptional and are of acorn shape.
Then there are the large cells in which the male bees are reared, and
in which provisions are stored when the flowers furnish forth of their
abundance. Then there are the little cells which may be called the
"cradles of the working bees," which are also employed as ordinary
store-rooms. These generally occupy about eight-tenth's of the
total surface of the combs in a hive; and finally there are a certain
number of what may be called transition cells. Although these latter
are inevitably irregular, the dimensions of the second or third type
are so well calculated that when the decimal system was first
established, and people were seeking an incontestable standard of
measurement, it was the cell of the bee which was proposed first of
all by Reamur. Each one of these cells is an hexagonal tube placed
upon a pyramid form, and each honeycomb is formed of two strata of
these tubes, base to base, in such a way that the three lozenges which
make the pyramid-like base of one cell form at the same time the
pyramid-like bases of the three cells on the other side.
[Illustration: WORKER.] [Illustration: DRONE.]
In these prismatic tubes the honey is stored away--and so that the
honey shall not trickle out as it would be likely to do if they were
built strictly horizontal--they are tilted up at the outer edge of an
angle of four or five degrees.
"Besides the saving in wax," says Reamur, speaking of this marvellous
building, "which is effected by this arrangement of the
cells,--besides the fact that by this plan the comb may be filled
without a single gap, there are other advantages in the way of the
solidity thus given.... Every possible advantage in the way of the
solidity of each cell is brought about by the manner of its
construction, and by its place with reference to the rest of the cells
in the comb."
"Students of geometry know," says Dr. Reid, "that there are only three
shapes that can be employed to divide a surface into, uniform spaces,
that shall be regular in shape, and without interstices.
[Illustration: SECTION OF CELLS CONSTRUCTED BY BEES.]
"They are the equilateral triangle, the square, and the regular
hexagon, which latter, in the matter of cell construction, is superior
to the two first both from the point of view of strength and utility,
and it is just this form that the bees have adopted, precisely as
though its advantages were familiar to them.
"Furthermore, the bottoms of the cells form three planes meeting at
one point, and it has been demonstrated that both in economy of labor
and material this system of construction is the best--again, the angle
of the inclination of the planes affects this question of economy:
this problem has been solved by the bees and confirmed by Maclaurin by
abstruse mathematical calculations published in the "Transactions of
the Royal Society of London.""
Of course I do not suppose for a moment that the bees themselves have
made these calculations, but on the other hand I do not believe that
chance, or accidental circumstance has brought about, these results.
The wasps, for instance, have built hexagonal cells, but they have not
displayed such ingenuity as the bees have done. Their combs have only
one course of cells, and they have not the foundation which serves the
bees for their double rows. Hence there is less strength, more
irregularity, and a loss of time, of material, and of room, which
really means that a quarter of the labor employed and a third of the
space occupied is lost. We also find certain other domesticated bees,
not so far progressed in civilization, which only build one row of
cells for rearing their young, and which support horizontal combs one
above another on costly columns of wax. Their food store-cells, are
like a row of round pots, and the bees make but a clumsy use of the
spaces between them. Indeed, when we compare their City with the
Wonderful City of the bees of which we are speaking, it is like
comparing a row of huts with a modern laid out city. If the result is
not charming, it is severely logical, and demonstrates the genius of
the race which is forever fighting to get the most out of matter,
space, and time.
Buffon had a theory which has been revived once more, that the bees
did not intend to make hexagonal cells, but rather round ones, and
that owing to the crowding of the workers all around, the round ones
became hexagonal. It is said also that crystals, fish-scales of
certain kinds, soap-bubbles, etc., follow the same law, and Buffon
advances this experiment to prove it. "Take a vessel and fill it full
with peas or any other round grains, pour as much water upon them as
will fill the spaces between them, close the vessel tightly, and boil
the water. It will be found that the round peas have become six-sided.
One sees clearly that this must be so from purely mechanical causes;
each one of the round grains tends in the course of swelling as it
boils to fill up the utmost space that it can, and by the extension
and pressure of all alike they become hexagonal. Each bee wishes to
occupy as much room as possible in its allotted space, therefore as
the bodies of the bees are round or cylindrical, their cells become
hexagonal because of the extension and pressure of all alike."
Here then we see reciprocal obstacles working a wonder, somewhat in
the same way perhaps as the vices of men bring about a general virtue,
so that the race odious, often so far as individuals are concerned, is
tolerable in the mass. Broughman, Kirby, and Spence and others claim
that the observations of soap-bubbles and peas prove nothing in this
connection, for the effect of compression is only to produce irregular
hexagonal forms, and does not explain the earlier form of the base of
the cells.
To this one might rejoin that there are more ways than one of dealing
with the blind law of necessity, for the wasp and the bumble-bee and
many other species in similar circumstances and with the same end in
view, arrive at very different, and manifestly inferior, results.
Indeed it might be said further that even if the bee-cells did conform
to the laws of crystallization as in the case of snow, or Buffon's
soap-bubbles, or boiled peas, they show also in their general
symmetry, in their well-determined angle of inclination, etc., that
there are many other laws not followed by inert matter to which they
also conform.
In order to assure myself that the hexagonal form of the cell was the
outcome of the bee-brain, I cut out from the centre of a honey-comb a
round piece not quite so large as a silver dollar, containing both
brood-cells and honey-cells. I cut into this disc, at the point where
the pyramidal bases of the cells were joined, and I fixed on the base
of the section thus exposed a piece of tin of the same size, and so
stout that the bees could not bend or twist it. Then I replaced the
disc of comb, with the piece of tin as described. One side of the comb
showed, of course, nothing extraordinary, but on the other side was to
be seen a hole at the bottom of which was a round piece of tin
occupying the place of about thirty cells. At first the bees were
disconcerted, and came in crowds to examine and study this wonderful
abyss; for some days they wandered about it in agitation without
coming to any decision. But as I fed them well every evening, the time
soon came when they needed more cells in which to store their
provisions. Then most likely the famous engineers, the sculptors, and
the waxmakers, were summoned to show the way to fill up this useless
chasm.
A heavy curtain, or garland, of the wax-making bees covered the spot
so as to develop the necessary heat; others went down into the hole
and began the work of solidly fixing the metal in place by means of
little claws of wax around its entire circumference, attaching them to
the walls of the cells which surrounded it. Then they set to work to
make three or four cells in the upper part of the disc, attaching them
to these waxen claws. Each of these new cells was more or less
unfinished at the top, so as to leave material wherewith to fasten it
to the next cell, but below on the piece of tin was always three very
clear, and precise angles from which would grow the three upright
lines which regularly marked the outline of the first half of the next
cell. After about forty-eight hours, although three or four bees at
most could work at the same time in the opening, the whole surface of
the piece of tin was covered with the outlines of the new cells. They
were certainly somewhat less regular than those in an ordinary
comb.... But they were all perfectly hexagonal; not a line was bent,
not an angle out of shape; nevertheless all the ordinary conditions of
bee-life were changed. The cells were not dug out of a block of wax as
Huber described, nor were they made according to Darwin, circular at
first, and then made into hexagons by the pressure of their neighbors.
Here was no question of reciprocal obstacles, seeing that the cells
were made one by one, and these first outlines were sketched on a kind
of table. It would appear therefore that the hexagonal form is not the
result of any mechanical necessity, but that it forms the plan
resulting from the experience, the intelligence, and the will of the
bee. Another curious thing which I accidentally noticed was that the
cells built upon the tin were not provided with any other floor than
the tin itself. The engineers of the working party evidently reasoned
that the tin was sufficient to retain the liquid honey, and that it
was not necessary, therefore, to line it with wax. But a little while
after, when some honey was placed in the cell, they probably found
that the metal effected some change in it, for upon taking counsel
together they covered the surface of the tin with a kind of diaphanous
varnish.
If we wish to throw light on all the secrets of this geometrical
architecture, we shall find many more interesting questions to
examine--for example, that of the form of the first cells, which are
attached to the roof of the hive--a form which is modified so that the
cells can fit its curve and touch the roof at the greatest possible
number of points.
It would be necessary to notice also, not only the direction in which
the main streets of the hive run, but the alley-ways and passages
which run in and out and around the comb, as much for the circulation
of the air as for the traffic; and it should be remarked that these
are planned so as to avoid long detours or confusion in the
traffic....
Before we leave this subject let us, only for a minute, stop to
consider the wonderful and mysterious way in which the bees make their
plans and work together when they are occupied in carving out their
cells, on both sides of the comb, where neither can see the other.
Look through one of these transparent combs, and you will see clearly
and sharply cut out in this diaphanous wax a network of prisms
arranged in so perfectly fitting a manner that one might think they
were stamped out of steel.
Those who have never seen the inside of a hive can have little idea of
the appearance of these honeycombs. Let us take a countryman's hive in
which the bee has been left free to work as he pleases. This
bell-like shape is divided from top to bottom by five, six, eight, and
sometimes ten, slices of wax, so to speak, perfectly parallel with
each other, which take the exact shape of the curve of the walls of
the hive. Between each one of these slices is a space of about half an
inch in which the bees move about. When they begin to build one of
these slices at the top of the hive, the wall of wax is quite thick,
and hides entirely the fifty or sixty bees who are working on one side
from the fifty or sixty at work on the other. Unless they have a sight
which can pierce the most opaque bodies, neither can see what is doing
on the other side. Nevertheless, a bee on one side does not dig a hole
or add a fragment of wax which does not correspond exactly with a
protuberance or a cavity on the other side. How do they contrive to do
this? How does it happen that one does not dig too far, and the other
not far enough?
How is it that every angle coincides in such magnificent perfection?
Who tells the bee to begin here and to end there? Once again we must
be satisfied with the reply that does not answer: "It is one of the
mysteries of the hive." Huber has tried to explain it by saying that
at certain intervals, by the pressure of their feet or their teeth,
they produce a slight projection of the wax on the other side of the
comb, or that they can determine the thickness of the block of wax by
its flexibility, its elasticity, or some other physical property which
it may possess; or, again, that their antennae are able to serve as
compasses in enabling them to examine what is going on in the darkness
of the other side; or, last of all, he suggests that all the cells
mathematically derive their shape and dimensions from those of the
first row, which is built without the need of further concert on the
part of the workers. But one can easily see that these explanations
are not sufficient; the first are guesses which cannot be verified;
the others simply change but do not remove the mystery. But if it is
good to change a mystery as often as possible, it is never good to
flatter one's self that to change it means to remove it!
WASPS
(FROM THE NATURALIST IN NICARAGUA.)
BY THOMAS G. BELT, F.G.S.
[Illustration]
I one day saw a small black and yellow banded wasp hunting for
spiders; it approached a web where a spider was stationed in the
centre, made a dart towards it--apparently a feint to frighten the
spider clear of its web; at any rate it had that effect, for it fell
to the ground, and was immediately seized by the wasp, who stung it,
then ran quickly backwards, dragging the spider after it, up a branch
reaching to the ground until it got high enough, when it flew heavily
off with it. It was so small, and the spider so heavy, that it
probably could not have raised it from the ground by flight. All over
the world there are wasps that store their nests with the bodies of
spiders for their young to feed on. In Australia, I often witnessed a
wasp combating with a large flat spider that is found on the bark of
trees. It would fall to the ground, and lie on its back, so as to be
able to grapple with its opponent; but the wasp was always the victor
in the encounters I saw, although it was not always allowed to carry
off its prey in peace. One day, sitting on the sandbanks on the coast
of Hobson's Bay, I saw one dragging along a large spider. Three or
four inches above it hovered two minute flies, keeping a little
behind, and advancing with it. The wasp seemed much disturbed by the
presence of the tiny flies, and twice left its prey to fly up towards
them, but they darted away with it. As soon as the wasp returned to
the spider, there they were hovering over and following it again. At
last, unable to drive away its small tormentors, the wasp reached its
burrow and took down the spider, and the two flies stationed
themselves one on each side the entrance, and would, doubtless, when
the wasp went away to seek another victim, descend and lay their own
eggs in the nest.
[Illustration: WASPS' NEST.]
[Illustration: THE SAND-WASP.]