CHAPTER XXX.

MEAD.

Prior to the introduction of agriculture into Britain, mead was the

principal cordial beverage of its inhabitants. In other northern nations

also it was formerly in high estimation. This must have proceeded, either

from their unpampered simplicity of taste, or from their having a better

method of making their mead than has been handed down to posterity; for

certainly in the present day it is a liquor seldom heard of, and still

seldomer made; and when made, holding a very humble rank among our

imperfect vinous productions. It however continued in favour long after

the introduction of malt liquor, and the northern inhabitants of Europe

drank it generally until very modern times. To show how highly it was

formerly esteemed in this country, I will give an extract from an ancient

law of the principality of Wales, where "the praises of it, accompanied

by the lyre, resounded through the spacious halls of her princes." "There

are three things in Court which must be communicated to the king, before

they are made known to any other person.

"1st, Every sentence of the judge;

2nd, Every new song; and

3rd, Every cask of Mead."

Mead-making appears to have been regarded by our forefathers as a high

and important avocation; at the courts of the Princes of Wales, the

mead-maker was the eleventh person in dignity, and took place of the

physician. We read in the English History, that Ethelstan a subordinate

king of Kent, in the tenth century, on paying a visit to his relation

Ethelfleda felt very much delighted that there was no deficiency of

mead. According to the custom at royal feasts, it was served up in cut

horns and other vessels of various sizes. About the same period, it was

customary to allow the monks a sextareum (about a pint) of mead between

six of them at dinner, and half the quantity at supper.

It was probably the liquor called by Ossian, the joy and strength of

shells, with which his heroes were so much delighted; the Caledonian

drinking-vessels having consisted of large shells, which are still used

by their posterity in some parts of the Highlands. Mention is sometimes

made also of the Feast of Shells.

Mead was the ideal nectar of the Scandinavian nations, which they

expected to quaff in heaven out of the skulls of their enemies; and, as

may reasonably be supposed, the liquor which they exalted thus highly in

their _imaginary celestial banquets_, was not forgotten at those which

they _really_ indulged in _upon earth_. Hence may be inferred the great

attention which must have been paid to the culture of the bee in those

days, or there could not have been an adequate supply of honey for the

production of mead, to satisfy the demand of such thirsty tribes.

The mythology of Scandinavia (the religion of our Gothic ancestors) was

imparted by Sigge or Odin, a chieftain who migrated from Scythia with the

whole of his tribe, and subdued either by arms or arts the northern parts

of Europe. From him descended Alaric and Attila. In the singular paradise

which Odin sketched for his followers, the principal pleasure was to be

derived from war and carnage; after the daily enjoyment of which, they

were to sit down to a feast of boar's flesh and mead. The mead was to

be handed to them in the skulls of their enemies, by virgins somewhat

resembling the houri of the Mahometan paradise, and plentiful draughts

were to be taken, until intoxication should crown their felicity. Hence

the poet +Penrose+ thus commences his "Carousal of Odin."

"Fill the honey'd bev'rage high,

Fill the skulls, 'tis Odin's cry!

Heard ye not the powerful call,

Thundering through the vaulted hall?

Fill the meath and spread the board,

Vassals of the grisly lord!--

The feast begins, the skull goes round

Laughter shouts--the shouts resound!"

Hence likewise, in an ode by +Mr. Stirling+, we find the following

illustration of the northern Elysium.

"Their banquet is the mighty chine

Exhaustless, the stupendous boar;

Virgins of immortal line

Present the goblet foaming o'er:

Of heroes' skulls the goblet made,

With figur'd deaths and snakes of gold inlaid."

Boar's flesh was considered by these tribes as the highest delicacy; the

celestial boar was supposed to be daily renewed, and to afford an ample

repast for the most numerous party: a quantity of mead also, sufficient

for the intoxication of this paradisiacal community, was imagined to be

daily supplied by a goat called Heidruna,

"Whose spacious horn would fill the bowl

That rais'd to rapture Odin's soul;

And ever drinking, ever dry--

Still the copious stream supply."

+Cottle+

I could not refrain from adducing these short historical and poetical

evidences of the high estimation in which mead was held by our northern

ancestors. I trust that I shall also stand excused for still further

lengthening my preamble by entering upon _the general principles of

wine-making_.

_The grand desiderata in wine are strength, flavour, and

pleasantness:_--to accomplish the first, sugar must be converted by

fermentation into alcohol; the second depends upon the article to be

vinified, and upon the management of the process of vinification; flavour

may likewise be produced artificially by different adjuncts: pleasantness

will principally result from the same causes, but more especially from

the liquor holding in solution a certain quantity of unconverted sugar.

_The elements necessary to a due fermentation_ and to bring the process

to a satisfactory issue, _are sugar, extractive matter, acid of tartar_,

and _water_. These exist in the highest perfection and in the best

relative proportions in _the grape_: hence the superiority of foreign

wines. Whoever therefore expects to imitate, with much effect, those

generous liquors, must supply in the process those ingredients in which

the article sought to be converted into wine is deficient.

If the native juices of fruits be deficient in sugar, it will be

impossible to convert them into a strong wine without a proper supply of

that ingredient; and without a sufficiency of extractive matter, which

is the natural ferment, a due fermentation could not be established; the

wine would be sweet, but not potent; _sweet wines being the produce of

an incomplete fermentation_. If the extractive matter were in excess, the

liquor would have a tendency to the acetous fermentation, which might

also be induced by a superabundant proportion of water.

_The result of a complete fermentation is a dry wine;_ to produce which,

the elements must all be nicely balanced, and the process conducted under

favourable circumstances, with respect to temperature, tunning, stopping

down, &c.

Two opposite practices prevail, in the manufacture of the same sort

of wine; _some wine-makers boiling the juices before fermentation,

others conducting the whole process without boiling:_ the propriety or

impropriety of these practices depends upon the quality of the juices to

be vinified. Extractive matter is partially coagulable by heat; boiling

therefore, by causing this matter to separate and to be deposited, tends

to the production of a sweet wine. The extractive matter may also be

precipitated by sulphuric acid gas, (burning in the cask a brimstone

match as hereafter directed,) or by sulphuric acid itself, with which the

soluble leaven forms an insoluble compound. Hence where the extractive

matter is in excess, and where there is danger of fermentation going on

too rapidly, boiling or sulphuring will be useful both to the wine and

cider-maker, in checking or preventing fermentation. The superfluous

extract thrown up in the course of fermentation as yeast, or deposited

as lees, will, if remixed with the liquor, have the effect of continuing

the fermentation: hence the utility of racking and fining, where it is

in excess; and of re-union, where it is deficient. _Artificial leaven

or yeast_, which contains the extractive principle in great abundance,

affords a supply to those juices which are deficient in it, and without

which they will not ferment. _Natural leaven_ (i. e. _extractive matter_)

is soluble in cold water, artificial leaven is not: during fermentation,

therefore, the latter is always thrown off; so also is the greater part

of the former, if the process be well conducted.

Most of the fruits of this country abound in _malic acid_; those that

possess only a moderate quantity of it, however, afford excellent wine

with the addition of sugar only; still better wine may be obtained by the

further addition of the acid of tartar. Where the malic acid prevails so

abundantly as to make its neutralization desirable. +Dr. McCulloch+,

(to whom I am indebted for much of the information contained in this

chapter,) recommends the coating of the insides of the fermenting vats

with a white wash of hot _caustic lime_. I have neutralized the malic

acid, by putting into the cask, after the sensible fermentation has been

completed, about a pound of _egg shells_ to every sixty gallons of wine.

The acid of tartar increases the fermenting power of fluids: half-ripe

fruits possess it in greatest abundance; hence the vivacity of champagne

and green gooseberry wine. It is most conveniently used in the state

of supertartrate of potash or common cream of tartar: the common rough

tartar is in some respects preferable, as its admixture of yeast assists

in perfecting the fermentation.

All vegetables contain more or less of extractive matter; those that

possess little may be assisted in their fermentation, by that process

being conducted in wooden vessels, wood supplying the extractive

principle to the liquor; the same juices therefore which would ferment

very well in wood, would scarcely ferment at all in glass or earthenware.

The extractive matter and the sugar are seldom completely destroyed in

any wines; the existence of the former is evinced, by the skinny matter

frequently deposited upon the insides of the wine-bottles; the latter

may be detected, by a nice palate, in the very driest of our wines; its

predominance indicates an inferior wine.

From the preceding observations, my readers have probably anticipated my

opinion of _honey, in wine-making_. I regard it merely as _a substitute

for sugar_; and to those who approve of its flavour I recommend the

following _directions_, which I have successfully followed for several

years, having my home-made wines enriched with a considerable portion of

foreign flavour.--Dissolve an ounce of cream of tartar in five gallons

of boiling water; pour the solution off clear upon twenty pounds of

fine honey, boil them together and remove the scum as it rises. Towards

the end of the boiling, add an ounce of fine hops; about ten minutes

afterwards, put the liquor into a tub to cool; when reduced to the

temperature of about 60° Fahrenheit, add a slice of bread toasted and

smeared over with a very little yeast; the smaller the quantity the

better, for _yeast invariably spoils the flavour of wines_, and where

there is a sufficiency of extractive matter in the ingredients employed,

it should never be introduced. The liquor should now stand, and be

stirred occasionally, till it carries a head, when it should be tunned

and the cask filled up from time to time from the reserve, till the

fermentation has nearly subsided. It should now be bunged down, leaving

open a small peg-hole; in a few days this may also be closed, and in

about twelve months the wine will be fit to bottle.

Many makers of both wine and cider have been unconsciously benefited

from the acquisition of tartar by their liquor; it being a frequent

practice to tun into an empty foreign wine cask, whose incrusted sides

have supplied their wine or their cider with a portion of that necessary

ingredient for perfect vinification.

It is a practice with some to add _spices_ to their Mead during the

fermentation, such as ginger, cloves, mace, rosemary, lemon-peel, &c.

This is bad œconomy; a much smaller quantity will communicate the

required flavour if the addition be made after the fermentation has

ceased.

A _common beverage_ is sometimes made, by simply boiling the refuse

honey-combs in water after extracting from them as much of the honey as

will run; this liquor will not require tartar or yeast: it should be

tunned as soon as cool, bunged down in three or four days, and drank in a

few weeks. In some parts of Wales the refuse combs are brewed with malt,

spices, &c. and the produce is called _Braggot_, a name derived from the

old British words _brag_ and _gots_, the former signifying _malt_, the

latter _honey-comb_.

A knowledge of the principles of fermentation will enable the wine-maker

to regulate its process. Thus if a dry wine be desired, and fermentation

be suspended, it may be renewed by a restoration of the separated leaven

or the addition of fresh; or by agitation and a remixture of the lees.

It is upon the latter principle, called "_feeding on the lees_," that

some foreign wines are improved by long voyages; but this treatment, so

_serviceable to Madeira and other Spanish wines_, and also to some of

the French wines, _would destroy Burgundy_. If there be an excess of

fermentation the scientific operator will regulate, check or suspend it,

by skimming, racking, fining. If skimming and racking do not succeed,

recourse must be had to _fining_, which may be effected _by isinglass_,

in the proportion of about an ounce to 100 gallons. The isinglass must

be beaten, for a few days, with a whisk in a small quantity of the wine,

till completely attenuated. This solution must then be well stirred

into the cask of wine, which in about a week will become fine and fit

for being racked off. This fining is accomplished by the union of the

isinglass with what is called the tannin of the wine. Fining may also be

effected by _stumming_, i. e. _by burning in a close vessel containing

a small part of the wine a brimstone rag_, at the rate of a dram of

sulphur to thirty gallons; and when consumed, rolling the cask about for

a quarter of an hour, that the wine may absorb as much as possible of the

sulphuric acid gas. This being done, the cask is to be filled up with the

remainder of the wine, and bunged down. In this process the sulphuric

acid or its oxygen unites with the extractive matter or soluble leaven,

which being thereby rendered insoluble is precipitated to the bottom, as

I before observed. If wines be perfectly fermented, they do not require

the addition of any brandy, as a sufficiency of spirit is generated

during the process.

_The best temperature for carrying on fermentation_ is about 54°

Fahrenheit. Its perfection depends in some degree upon the volume of

the liquor; the larger the quantity, the longer the fermentation will

continue, and the stronger and pleasanter will be the wine. There are

however exceptions to this rule. The peculiar excellence of champagne

would be destroyed, if its fermentation were conducted upon a large

scale: it may be made successfully in a gallon measure. This wine is so

managed by the makers as to ferment after bottling.

_Dry wines and fine wines_ are much more durable than any others;

and those that would perish in cask, _may be preserved many years by

bottling_.

These hints will, I hope, enable the makers of home-made wines to conduct

the process scientifically, and to secure generally a successful issue.

Cookery books and good housewives abound in receipts for wine-making,

which are very often fanciful and absurd, recommending the introduction

of articles which, in their very natures, counteract the production of

good wine. Hence we are sometimes presented with such miserable mawkish

stuff, as disgraces the name of wine, being only rendered tolerable by

the brandy which has been added to it, and which in some degree covers

the crudeness and insipidity of the compound, and moderates its hostility

to the peace of our stomachs.

THE ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY OF THE BEE.

PART II.

CHAPTER XXXI.

ANATOMY.

Having given in detail the instructions necessary for the domestic

management of the Bee, and treated of such parts of its physiology as

that detail naturally suggested; I shall now proceed to give an account

of the most important parts of its anatomical structure, and so much more

of its physiology as may arise from a consideration of that structure, or

be otherwise likely to interest my readers.

Some persons may possibly consider a description of the anatomy of

so small a creature as unimportant and uninteresting; but without

understanding the anatomy of the bee, its physiology would be vague,

uncertain, and conjectural; and it is physiological knowledge that

has hitherto led, and must still lead, to a scientific and profitable

management of this insect. The enlightened +Boyle+, when contemplating

the various wonders of Nature, has declared his astonishment to have been

more excited by the mite than by the elephant; and that his admiration

dwelt, not so much on the _clocks_ as on the _watches of creation_. It

is not my intention, however, to enter deeply into the anatomy of the

bee, but merely to give a general account of those parts which are most

prominent and important; anything beyond this would, to the general

reader, be tedious and uninteresting. Those who desire minute information

may obtain it in various works, but in none more satisfactorily than in

that of +Messrs. Kirby+ and +Spence+.

The natural } { The Head.

divisions of } are { The Trunk.

the Bee } { The Abdomen.

These are connected together by ligaments.

The +Head+, in common with that of other creatures, is the inlet for

nutrition and the principal seat of the organs of sensation.--Of

nutrition and sensation I shall speak in their appropriate places.

The +Trunk+ is the intermediate section of the body between the head and

the abdomen: it approaches in figure to a sphere, and is the seat of the

organs of motion; it contains the muscles of the wings and legs which

proceed from it, and is the main prop, or as it were the key-stone, of

the other two sections. The upper side is called _thorax_ or the _chest_,

the under side _pectus_ or the _breast_.

The +Abdomen+ is the third section of the body, posterior to the

trunk; it is divided into six rings or segments, which, by sliding one

over another, serve to shorten or lengthen the body. It is the seat

of the organs of generation, and principally of those connected with

respiration; and contains also the anus and the sting. The upper part is

called _tergum_ or the _back_, the under side _venter_ or the _belly_.

+The Head.+

The most remarkable part of the head is the +Proboscis+, of which so good

an account has been given by +Dr. Evans+ that I shall describe it nearly

in his words.

It is not so much the mere simplicity of nature, which excites our

wonder and admiration, as that apparently complex structure, which

operates with all the ease of the simplest machinery. Of this we have

not a more striking instance than in the proboscis of the labouring bee:

though the component parts of the proboscis are scarcely discernible by

the naked eye, yet are they far more complicated than the elephant's

stupendous trunk. It consists of no less than five distinct branches;

namely, a central trunk, or tongue, and four horny scales, tapering to

a point, convex outwards and concave towards the trunk; the two outer

ones so sheath the inner as to appear but one single tube: by a joint

in the middle they bend, or extend all at once, carrying with them the

unarticulated tongue, which is cylindrical, and about the size of a man's

hair, and appears through a magnifier to be composed of successive rings.

It has probably as many short muscles as the tongue of a fish, which

are capable of moving it in all directions; and towards its termination

is furnished with hairs or villi, some of which at the point are very

long, and seem to act like capillary tubes. +Mr. Wildman+ assures us,

that he has seen the trunk growing bigger and less by turns, swelling

the instant the bee sucked; and this alternate lessening and enlargement

propagated from the extremity to the root. What a delicate apparatus of

invisible muscles must perform this office! The tongue is capable of

being contracted and folded up at pleasure; for if it were constantly

extended, it would be exposed to injury: when at rest, therefore, it is

doubled up by means of its joint, and lies in a very small compass; the

first portion being brought within the lip, and the second part folded

under the head and neck, protection is given to it by a double sheath,

consisting of four strong scales, the two inner scales sheathing the

tongue, and the two outer and larger ones encompassing the whole. When at

work, the trunk is lengthened beyond its sheaths, probes the very bottom

of the flowers, through all impediments of foliage or fructification, and

drains them of those treasured sweets which, without such an apparatus,

would be completely inaccessible.

The proboscis of the bee is not used like that of other flies, not being

tubular like theirs, but serves as a brush or besom to sweep, or as a

tongue to lap[K]; having collected the nectar of flowers in small drops,

it deposits its collection upon the tongue, which is protruded for the

purpose of receiving it, and having received it, withdrawn again.

[Footnote K: The bee and all other insects that lap their food are called

lambent insects.]

The +Lips+. The bee has two lips, an upper one called _labrum_, and an

under one called _labium_; (the _Mentum_ of Latreille.)

The +Tongue+ of the bee, which is very long, is at its upper part

cartilaginous; below the middle, membranous and capable of considerable

inflation, thus forming a bag to receive the honey from the proboscis,

preparatory to its conveyance into the pharynx. It terminates in a

knob, but has no passage through it, to exercise the power of suction,

as has been supposed. When in a state of inaction, it is folded up

longitudinally, and lies between the lips. The tongue of the working bee

is probably the largest of any known animal, for its size; it is much

longer than that of either the male or queen, and thus fitted for taking

up honey at a considerable depth. The bee has the power of unfolding it

with great rapidity, and darting it betwixt the petals and stamina of

those flowers that afford honey, it moves it about in every direction,

sweeping the convex as well as the concave surface of the petals.

The +Pharynx+ lies at the root of the tongue; it is an opening by which

the honey passes from the tongue to the gullet or honey-bag, and closes

by a valve.

The +Œsophagus+ or +Gullet+ receives the food from the pharynx, and

conveys it, in part at least, to the stomach, there to be digested,

animalized, and forwarded to the small intestines, from whence it is

distributed, through appropriate vessels or tubes, to all parts of the

body for its nutriment. The gullet is long and slender, commences at the

termination of the pharynx, and traversing the neck and breast, dilates

into a fine bag, transparent as crystal, and when filled with honey

about the size of a small pea. In bees caught on going out early in the

morning, Mr. Hunter found this reservoir perfectly empty; but in those

returning from the fields, it was quite full of honey, _some_ of which

had passed into the stomach.

The +Mandibles+ or upper jaws move horizontally, and are armed with teeth.

The +Maxillæ+ or under jaws are situated below the mandibles, have a

similar motion, and form, according to Linnæus, the sheath of the tongue.

De Geer regarded them as part of the apparatus of the under lip, on each

side of which they are placed.

The mandibles are powerful organs, hard and horny, and constitute the

tools with which the bee performs its various labours; the maxillæ on the

contrary are soft and leathery: the latter probably serve to hold such

materials as the former have occasion to operate upon.

The +Antennæ+. Of all the organs of insects, none appear to be of more

importance than their antennæ: in all the tribe they are planted either

between or below the eyes; and no insect has more than two: in their

general structure, they consist of a number of tubular joints, each

having a separate motion, which gives them every variety of flexure.

The antennæ of the male have one more joint than those of the female,

the former having thirteen, the latter only twelve. They seem to enable

the insects, by certain signs and gestures, to communicate to each

other their mutual wants or discoveries. But I shall enter more fully

into this subject when I come to speak of the various uses to which the

antennæ are applied.

The +Palpi+ or +Feelers+ are also important organs; their ends are

furnished with nervous papillæ, indicating some peculiar sense, of which

they are the instrument: they are four in number, two emerging from the

maxillæ called maxillary feelers, and one from each side of the labium,

called labial feelers. The maxillary are short and without a joint,

the labial long and with four joints, including the two flat joints or

elevators.

The +Eyes+, two in number, are placed in the sides of the head; they are

compounds of an infinite number of hexagonal lenses, as clear as crystal,

and are guarded by a horny tunicle or covering. This subject is however

treated of in Chap. XXXII.

+The Trunk.+

The trunk affords attachment to the organs of motion.

First, To the +Wings+, which transport the insect through the air; these

consist of two _superior_ and two _inferior_: they are membranous and

transparent, and while in a state of repose are incumbent on each other,

covering the abdomen.

Bees and various other hymenopterous insects, and also those of the

dipterous family, possess the power of flying in a more perfect degree

than any class of animals besides, surpassing in this respect even

the bird tribe. In the anterior margin of the under wings small hooks

(_hamuli_) are placed, which are capable of laying hold of the posterior

margin of the upper wings, by means of which they are kept steady when

flying. These hooks are discoverable under a good magnifier.

Secondly, To the +Legs+, by which the insect moves itself from place to

place upon the earth. Of these there are _six in number_, each composed

of several joints, and articulated like our arms, thus affording the

power of various movements: in the legs are three distinct divisions;

namely, the thigh, the shank, and the foot. In the _four_ hinder legs one

joint forms a kind of _brush_, externally smooth and bare, but covered on

the inside with stiff bristling hairs. By these the insect is enabled to

brush off farina both from the tips of the stamina of flowers and from

the hairs of its own body. With the jaws and two fore-feet, the meal is

rolled into small compact masses, which are conveyed, by the middle pair

of legs, to the _spoon-shaped cavities_ in the centre joint of the two

hindmost feet; these are surrounded by strong close set hairs, to secure

more firmly the precious burdens. (No such groove is to be found in the

legs of either the queen-bee or drone.) _Each foot_ terminates in _two

hooks_, with their points opposite to each other, by means of which the

bees suspend themselves from the roofs or sides of the hives or boxes,

and hang from each other, in the form of festoons, ropes, or cones. From

the middle of each pair of hooks proceeds a little thin _appendix_, which

is usually folded up; when unfolded it enables the insects to fasten

themselves to polished surfaces, such as glass, &c.: they probably also

use it for taking up small bodies, the pollen for instance, which they

thereby transmit to the hollows of their hinder legs.

The trunk also gives origin to a number of muscles, serving various

purposes, which it would lead me too much into detail to enter upon here.

+The Abdomen.+

The _abdomen_, besides various other parts, contains the _honey-bag_,

the _venom-bag_, and the _anus_, which latter in the female comprehends

the _ovipositor_ and _sting_: in the male it contains the _organs of

reproduction_ but no sting, and of course no ovipositor. For a particular

account of these, _vide_ Organs of Reproduction further on.

+Organs of Sensation.+

We have an abundance of presumptive evidence that bees are endowed

with _sensation_ and _perception_, and that the excitement of these

faculties is communicated, through the medium of _nerves_, to a common

_sensorium_, though the latter was denied to insects by Linnæus and

other eminent naturalists. Common sensation, however, does not reside

in the brain alone of insects, as in that of warm-blooded animals, but

in the spinal marrow also; hence it is that bees and many other insects

exhibit signs of sensation after their heads have been severed from their

bodies. Some insects exhibit these for a long time afterwards, the wasp

for instance; +Lyonnet+ informs us that he has seen motion in the body

of a wasp, three days after its division from the head; and I have known

several instances of its inflicting wounds with its sting, at least

four-and-twenty hours after the separation. The severed body will not

only move but walk, and sometimes even fly, at first almost as actively

without the head as with it. The penetrating genius of +Lord Bacon+

afforded him such illumination upon this subject, as to enable him to

approach very near to what is at this day regarded as a correct statement

of the cause of this _protracted vitality_ in mutilated insects. "They

stirre," says he, "a good while after their heads are off, or that they

be cut in pieces; which is caused also for that their vital spirits are

more diffused throughout all their parts, and lesse confined to organs

than in perfect creatures."

That insects have a real sensorium or brain, would seem to be proved

by their having _memory_, and a _capacity to receive instruction_, and

_acquire new habits_. Such functions in higher animals are regarded

as functions of a cerebral system. That they are endowed with memory

cannot well be doubted. +Huber+ relates a remarkable instance of it in

bees, which illustrates what will hereafter be said on their having a

method of communicating information to each other. "Honey," says he,

"had been placed in a window in autumn, where the bees resorted to it in

multitudes. It was removed, and the shutters closed during winter; but

when opened again, on the return of spring, the bees came back, though no

honey was there. Undoubtedly they remembered it, therefore an interval of

several weeks did not obliterate the impression they had received." "But

the most striking fact evincing the memory of bees has been communicated

to me," says +Mr. Kirby+, "by my intelligent friend +Mr. W. Stickney+,

of _Ridgemont, Holderness_. About twenty years ago, a swarm from one of

this gentleman's hives took possession of an opening beneath the tiles

of his house, whence, after remaining a few hours, they were dislodged

and hived. For many subsequent years, when the hives descended from this

stock were about to swarm, a considerable party of scouts were observed,

for a few days before, to be reconnoitring about the old hole under the

tiles; and _Mr. Stickney_ is persuaded, that if suffered, they would

have established themselves there. He is certain that for eight years

successively the descendants of the very stock that first took possession

of the hole, frequented it as above stated, and _not_ those of any other

swarms; having constantly noticed them, and ascertained that they were

bees from the original hive by powdering them, while about the tiles,

with yellow ochre, and watching their return. And even at the present

time, there are still seen every swarming season about the tiles, bees,

which _Mr. Stickney_ has no doubt are descendants from the original

stock."

Some anecdotes of the spider prove that insects are capable of

instruction. +M. Pelisson+, when he was confined in the Bastille, tamed

a spider, and taught it to come for food at the sound of an instrument.

_A manufacturer_ also, in an apartment _at Paris_, fed 800 spiders, which

became so tame, that whenever he entered it, which he usually did with

a dish of flies, they immediately came down to receive their food. That

insects are susceptible of a change of habits, or rather that they may

acquire civilized habits, if I may say so, is shown by the domestication

of bees, and occasionally by that of ants and wasps. +Huber's+

experiments, with leaf-hives, show the existence of this faculty in an

eminent degree, for he assures us that it renders the bees quite tame

and tractable.

Most physiologists, resting upon the evidence of analogy, agree

in attributing _five senses_ to insects: (+Dr. Virey+, as will be

seen further on, ascribes to them _seven senses:_) though there is

a difference of opinion as to the organs by which those senses are

conveyed. The _antennæ_ for instance, have been regarded by some as the

organs of smell, by others as the organs of touch, and by a third class

as the organs of hearing. With the substitution of taste forbearing, the

same opinions have been maintained respecting the _palpi;_ nor can the

question even now be considered as settled. The prevailing opinion seems

to be, that the antennæ are explorers or tactors, but that they are also

applied to other uses; the effects produced by their excision indicate

that they are organs of the highest importance. _Vide_ Senses of Bees.

+Messrs. Kirby+ and +Spence+ notice the analogy borne by antennæ to the

ears of vertebrate animals, such as their corresponding in number and

standing out from the head. No ether organ has been found which can be

supposed to represent the ear[L]. And what I have said in another place,

of their constituting a sixth sense, has received some countenance from

the observations of those naturalists. "I conceive," says Mr. K., "that

the antennæ, by a peculiar structure, may collect notices from the

atmosphere, receive pulses or vibrations, and communicate them to the

sensorium, which, [communications] though not precisely to be called

hearing, may answer the same purpose." Lehmann calls the function of the

antennæ aëroscepsy. A very remarkable instance of the effect produced

upon them by sound, is adduced by the authors just quoted, which one of

them has thus related. "A little moth was reposing upon my window; I made

a quiet, not loud, but distinct noise: the nearest antenna immediately

moved towards me. I repeated the noise at least a dozen times, and it was

followed every time by the same motion of that organ; till at length the

insect, being alarmed, became agitated and violent in its motions. In

this instance, it could not be _touch_; since the antenna was not applied

to a surface, but directed towards the quarter from which the sound came,

as if to listen."

[Footnote L: +Marcel de Serres+ thinks he has discovered an organ of

hearing in most insects, but does not state its situation.]

That the antennæ should have been regarded as organs of smell is not

surprising when the proceedings of the bees on visiting flowers are

considered; their first act is to introduce one of the antennæ, but no

further than the tip: this conduct would naturally enough convey the

idea of looking or smelling for nectar; yet it does not at all militate

against the opinion that the antennæ are transmitters of sound; the

sense which they supply may, in these little creatures, be so very fine,

as to enable them to hear the bursting of an anther, or the exudation

of nectar. The continual motion of the antennæ of insects from side to

side, when they walk, conveys the idea that it is by their means that

they inform themselves of what is going on in their immediate vicinity.

The importance of the antennæ may be inferred from their very complicated

structure. +Mr. Kirby+ has observed, that in one species of _Apis_ which

he examined, under a powerful magnifier, the ten last joints of the

antennæ appeared to be composed of innumerable hexagons, and from this

similarity in their structure to the eyes (_Vide_ Senses of Bees) he

thought that they might serve a somewhat analogous purpose.

What I have said with respect to the Senses of Bees, in another place,

will I think make it evident that these insects possess an organ of

smell, but with respect to its situation naturalists differ. +Baster+,

+Lehmann+, and +Cuvier+, consider the spiracles as the organs of smell,

as well as of respiration: this opinion is founded upon the notion

that, without the inspiration of air, there can be no smell; and that

as insects are smaller than the food they live upon, it would be of no

consequence to them where this sense was situated. +Kirby+ and +Spence+,

on the contrary, suppose that it resides in some organ near the mouth:

in other parts of the animal creation certainly, that is its situation;

and as there seems to be a necessary connection between smell and taste,

analogy should lead us to argue in favour of that opinion; but though

smell be usually accompanied by respiratory organs, they may not be

essentially necessary to it; a bee may receive impressions from external

objects, in a manner which we cannot comprehend. In confirmation of this

opinion of +Kirby+ and +Spence+, we have the experiments of +Huber+.

It seems that no odour is so unpleasant to insects as that of oil of

turpentine. +M. Huber+ having presented this oil, on the point of a

camel's hair pencil, successively to every part of the abdomen, trunk and

head, it excited no uneasiness in the bee: he then tried the eyes and

antennæ, but with the same result; yet as soon as he pointed it a little

above the insertion of the proboscis, near the cavity of the mouth, the

bee receded, became agitated, clapped its wings, and would have taken

flight, had not the pencil been withdrawn. This experiment was repeated

with the turpentine and other articles of penetrating odour, and with

the same effect; but when the mouths of several bees were stopped with

paste, no such consequences ensued, on the contrary they traversed the

impregnated pencils without being at all annoyed by them; even honey did

not attract them. All these circumstances tend to prove that the site of

smelling is in or near the mouth.--This subject will be resumed in Chap.

XXXII.

+Organs of Respiration.+

The respiration of bees is performed through several little orifices,

called _stigmata_, _spiracles_, or _breathing pores_, situated in the

sides of their bodies, behind their wings. +Reaumur+ was of opinion that

inspiration was performed through the spiracles, and expiration through

the mouth; but +Bonnet+ proved satisfactorily that neither inspiration

nor expiration takes place through the mouth. The spiracles are connected

with a system of air-vessels called _tracheæ_, ramifying through every

part of the frame, and serving the purpose of lungs. From the absence

of lungs, +Aristotle+ and the ancients in general thought that insects

did not breathe. +Pliny+ may perhaps be excepted, for he has observed

that dipping bees in honey or oil deprives them of life;--this immersion

stops up the mouths of the spiracles. Modern physiologists have however

incontestibly proved that they do breathe. "Life and flame," says

+Cuvier+, "have this in common, that neither the one nor the other can

subsist without air; all living beings, from man to the most minute

vegetable, perish when they are utterly deprived of that fluid." +Huber+

detected the existence of the stigmata or breathing pores, by immersing

different portions of a bee in water, and finally by total immersion,

upon which he observed that bubbles of air attached themselves for

some time to the orifices of the stigmata, which alternately appeared

and receded, till their increased bulk enabled them to overcome the

resistance of inspiration and rise to the surface. These respiratory

organs escaped the observation of +Swammerdam+.

Air is equally necessary to insects in the egg state: +Spallanzani+ found

that their eggs could not be hatched in small close vessels, though all

other circumstances were favourable to a development. The eggs of the

hive-bee, whilst in the ovaries, have a net-work of air-vessels spread

over their surfaces;--these were discovered by Swammerdam: from analogy,

we may reasonably conclude, that such a provision obtains generally.

The closeness of a hive, and its having no direct current of air through

it, may favour a belief that bees can exist in any atmosphere, however

vitiated, and may seem also to confirm the opinion of the ancients, that

they have no particular system of respiratory organs. But +M. Huber+ and

+Son+ have proved that they breathe like other animals, that they are

speedily deprived of life, if the process of respiration be arrested;

so delicate indeed is their organization, that they detect the smallest

deterioration in the atmosphere of their hives, and immediately adopt

measures to restore to this element the degree of purity essential to

respiration: from some eudiometrical experiments, it has been ascertained

that the air of a well stocked hive is as pure as that by which it is

surrounded. Still neither wax nor pollen favours the generation of

oxygen gas, nor have bees the faculty of generating it; for when very

closely shut up, they perish in a few hours. The writers just referred

to, discovered that the bees, by uniting the two wings of each side, by

means of the small marginal hooks with which they are provided, so as to

make them present the largest possible surface to the air, were capable

of striking it with considerable force, and that this force was increased

by the wings forming a slight concavity. The wings arranged in this

manner, are put into a violent vibratory motion by the bees appointed to

the office of ventilators, and produce what we call a draught of air.

_Ventilation_ is thus systematically accomplished. A certain portion of

ventilating bees is stationed in files at the entrance of the hive, with

their heads turned inwards; another and a larger party, in files also,

stands a considerable way in the interior, with their heads towards the

entrance: thus both these parties cooperate, in producing a current

of air in the same direction, and are so arranged as not to interrupt

the passage of their fellow-citizens, moving in and out. As this hard

duty has no intermission during the day, nor in hot weather during the

night, and must necessarily occasion fatigue, one set of ventilators is

considerately relieved in about twenty-five minutes, by another set of

fresh bees. Under particular circumstances the number of ventilating bees

is considerably increased. "When the air," says +Huber+, "was not renewed

in the manner desirable, we have seen all vibrating their wings at once,

though this never occurs in the natural state, when the vibrations of

a few are sufficient for ventilation." Although this fanning motion

of the wings is so rapid as to render them almost indistinguishable,

yet they may be observed to describe an arc of 90°. The sagacious bees

remind me of a method which is sometimes adopted of renewing the air of

a room, called pumping; some person moves the door backward and forward

so rapidly as to cause a thorough agitation of the confined air, and the

introduction of a fresh unvitiated atmosphere. "When they are engaged in

ventilation, the bees by means of their feet and claws, fix themselves

as firmly as possible, to the place they stand upon. The first pair

of legs is stretched out before; the second extended to the right and

left: whilst the third, placed very near each other, are perpendicular

to the abdomen, so as to give that part considerable elevation." That

ventilation is carried on for the purpose of renewing the air of the

hives, and not for lowering its temperature, is evident from its being

continued to a certain extent, even during the depth of winter.

The vibratory motion of the bee's wings has been regarded by some as the

principal cause of the _humming_ noise heard in every prosperous hive

during the busy season. This humming has likewise been attributed to the

rushing of the air through their spiracles: so thought +M. Chabrier+,

and, I believe, +Mr. J. Hunter+. Mr. H. assures us that bees can produce

a sound independently of their wings; for if these be smeared over with

honey so as to stick together, the bee still makes a noise, which is

shrill and peevish. He found the same effect from holding the bee by the

legs, with a pair of pincers, while the wings were perfectly still, and

also by immersing the insect in water, though not till it was very much

teased.

The whole body of a drone is in a state of vibration when it hums.

Though deprived of its wings, it is capable of producing a sound exactly

similar, and probably the same with its former hum: even when the legs

are cut off, the trunk retains its tremulous motion, and utters an

audible noise. If immersed in water, many air-bubbles are disengaged

from it: but though the mutilated insect be taken out alive, it is no

longer sonorous. "This experiment, however incomplete," says a writer

in the _Dictionnaire des Sciences Naturelles_, "tends at least to prove,

that the humming of bees is not occasioned by a strong vibration of the

internal part of the upper wings, but rather by a tremulous affection of

the entire body; and perhaps even by the escape of a greater quantity of

air through the stigmata or spiracles. This last would amount to a sort

of voice." The humming noise with which a flower is always approached by

the bee, ceases as soon as she has alighted upon it, though during the

time that she is extracting its sweets she is in a constant vibratory

motion.

+Circulation.+

The term circulation is not strictly applicable to the imperfect

sanguineous system of insects, as the fluid which supplies their bodies

with nutriment is not distributed to its several parts through the

medium of a heart and vascular system. Lyonnet and Cuvier are both of

opinion that insects have no heart, whereas all creatures that possess

a circulation, properly so called, have a heart, lungs or gills, and a

liver; but insects have only air-vessels and hepatic ducts. The chyle

which is produced in their intestines, transpiring through the pores of

the intestinal canal, passes into the general cavity of the body, where

it is probably animalized, and made to answer the same purposes that

blood does to creatures of a higher class, though when animalized it

still retains its white colour. Although its distribution is obscure,

from its analogy to blood, we may conclude that it is a fluid which

visits and nourishes every part of the insect's body; that from it

secretions are made, and that, as in other creatures, it is fitted for

these purposes by receiving oxygen from the air-vessels. +Cuvier+ has

observed that the blood of insects, "for want of a circulating system,

not being able to seek the air, the air goes to seek the blood;" the

air-vessels, as I have stated under the head of Respiration, are

distributed to every part of the body.

+Nutrition.+

From what I have said under the head of Circulation, it will appear

evident that the bodies of bees and other insects are supplied with

nutriment in a very simple manner. +Cuvier+ is of opinion that it is

obtained by direct absorption or transudation, by imbibition as he calls

it, through the pores of the intestinal canal, along which the blood or

animalized chyle passes: and +Lyonnet+ thinks that this imbibition is

analogous to that which takes place from the earth by the roots of plants.

+Secretion.+

Every thing connected with the subject of secretion seems to be obscure:

it is evident, however, that secretions do take place; for silk, wax, and

poison are all the results of that process. The first of these substances

is only secreted by the bee when in its larva state. I must refer those

who wish for information respecting silk, to those naturalists who

have written on the silk-worm. The secretion of wax I shall treat of

hereafter in a distinct chapter; and it will be better perhaps to speak

of Poison, after describing the sting and its appurtenances. There is one

secretion however, on which I will say a few words in this place,--viz.

Perspiration.

+Perspiration.+

The _temperature of insects_ not gregarious, is generally that of the

medium they inhabit; but bees possess the power not only of preserving a

high temperature during the coldest mouths of winter, but of raising that

temperature under particular circumstances. +Dr. Darwin+ has observed

that they generate heat by a general motion of their legs, as they hang

clustered together in the hives: +Huber+ thinks that it may be increased

by the agitation of their wings;--whatever disturbs them so as to cause

a tumult invariably produces a considerable accession of heat. +Inch+, a

_German_, plunged a thermometer into a bee-hive in the winter, and saw

the mercury stand 27 degrees higher than it did in the open air. +Mr.

Hunter+ found the _heat of a hive_ vary from 73° to 84° of Fahrenheit;

and +Huber+, who says that in a prosperous hive the thermometer in winter

commonly stands at from 86° to 88°, and in summer between 95° and 97°,

states that he has observed it, on some occasions, to rise suddenly from

about 92° to above 104°. The former naturalist, about ten o'clock in the

morning, in the middle of July, when the quicksilver in the thermometer

in the open air ranged at 54°, found that on plunging it into a bee-hive,

it rose in less than five minutes to 82°. At five the next morning it

stood at 79°,--at nine it had risen to 83°,--at one to 84°; and at nine

in the evening it had fallen to 78°. On the 30th of December, when the

temperature of the air was 35°, that in the hive was 73°. Bees also

possess the power of counteracting or throwing off superabundant heat,

by perspiration. +Huber+ observed, that when crowded together in hot

weather, they become much heated, and perspire so copiously that those

near the bottom seem perfectly drenched, and are for a time incapable of

flying from the moisture on their wings.

+Motion.+

The _motions of insects_ are performed through the medium of an

appropriate apparatus of muscles, which move the head, trunk, abdomen,

viscera, and limbs, as in other parts of the animal creation. The

muscles of insects generally possess very great power, as may be seen

by the motion of the mandibles, and the propulsion of the bee's sting.

It is very strikingly evinced also in the flea. +Latreille+ gives an

account of one that dragged a silver cannon twenty-four times its own

weight, firing it off afterwards, without exhibiting any symptom of fear.

An English workman also is said to have made an ivory coach, with six

horses, a coachman on the seat with a dog between his legs, a postillion,

four persons in the coach, and four lacqueys behind,--the whole of which

was dragged by a single flea. A further evidence of the muscular power

of the flea is the extent of its leaps, which equal a space of 200 times

the length of its own body. This calculation, or a very similar one, was

made by +Socrates+, who was much ridiculed for it by +Aristophanes+.

The poet, however, did not confine his ridicule to this minuteness of

calculation, but attacked likewise the character and precepts of that

great philosopher; for the whole of which satire he has justly incurred

the censure of posterity.

+Organs of Reproduction.+

These organs, in the drone, correspond in function and denomination with

those of the higher classes of animals: their chief peculiarity consists

in their size, in proportion to that of the insect, and in their being

more under the belly than in other insects of this tribe;--they are

larger than those of the humble-bee, and the two last scales of the back

and belly are larger than those of the queen or workers.

The female organs consist principally of the ovaries, the oviducts,

the sperm-reservoir, and the ovipositor. In the ovaries the eggs are

generated, and remain till rendered fit by impregnation, and the other

circumstances necessary for their maturation, to pass through the

oviducts. According to Mr. Hunter, what are called ovaries are really

ducts; the eggs therefore are not formed as in other animals, in a

cluster on the back, but in those ducts, of which there are six on each

side. When full of eggs, they form a kind of quadrangle; these six

ducts uniting on each side into one duct, this latter enters a duct

common to both sides, which may be called the _vagina_ or _ovipositor_.

The common _oviduct_ is the canal through which the eggs pass from the

ovaries as they are called, to the ovipositor. The _sperm-reservoir_ is

the organ which, according to Herold, receives the _impregnating sperm_

of the drone, the _modus operandi_ of which we are unacquainted with.

In the hive-bee and in some other insects, the influence of this sperm

continues so long a time, and through so many generations, as almost to

exceed belief. (_Vide_ page 31). This led +Dr. Haighton+ to entertain

the opinion that actual contact betwixt the male sperm and the egg

was not necessary, but that impregnation was effected by some unknown

sympathetic influence. +Messrs. Kirby+ and +Spence+ have recourse to

the old doctrine of an _aura seminalis_ being all that is required to

vivify the egg, and which they think may be retained for a long period.

Upon this subject I have entered at some length in page 25 _et seq._ The

_ovipositor_ places the eggs in their appropriate situations, and is an

instrument of most curious structure. It consists of a long tube, or

rather several tubes, retractile within each other, like the pieces of a

telescope, and serves not only to convey the extruded eggs to the place

of their destination, but acts also as a sheath for _the sting_, having

a sharp point which makes the first impression when the creature intends

to use its sting,--indeed it appears to be itself the sting. It has a

slit near its extremity, through which the sting and poison are allowed

to pass at the time of stinging. Some insects have occasion to bore a

hole in wood, or other hard substances, to obtain a proper nidus for

their eggs; the ovipositor is their operating instrument, and will either

saw or bore a passage to the desired place. Thus it appears that this

curiously complex apparatus, which in the bee is used both as a weapon

of defence and offence, is a hollow horny tube or scabbard, inclosing two

bearded darts, which can be thrust a short way beyond the sheath, though

the whole appears to the naked eye like the solid point of the minutest

needle.

This apparatus is moved by muscles which, though invisible to the eye,

are yet strong enough to force the sting to the depth of one twelfth of

an inch through the thick cuticle of a man's hand. It is articulated by

thirteen scales to the lower end of the insect's body; and at its root

are situated two glands or ducts, from which the poison is secreted:

these glands uniting in one duct, eject the venomous liquid along the

groove formed by the junction of the two piercers. There are four beards

on the outside of each piercer: when the insect is prepared to sting, one

of these piercers, having its point a little longer or more in advance

than the other, first darts into the flesh, and being fixed by its

foremost beard, the other strikes in also, and they alternately penetrate

deeper and deeper, till they acquire a firm hold of the flesh with their

hooks, and then follows the sheath entering and conveying the poison into

the wound. The action of the sting, says +Paley+, affords an example

of the union of _chemistry_ and _mechanism:_ of chemistry, in respect

to the _venom_ which can produce such powerful effects: of mechanism,

as the sting is a compound instrument. The machinery would have been

comparatively useless had it not been for the chemical process, by which

in the insect's body _honey_ is converted into _poison_; and on the other

hand, the poison would have been ineffectual, without an instrument to

wound, and a syringe to inject it.

In consequence of the barbed form of its sting the bee can seldom

disengage itself without leaving behind it the whole apparatus, and even

part of its bowels; so that her life is usually sacrificed to her passion.

"Illis ira modum supra est, læsæque venenum

Morsibus inspirant, et spicula cæca relinquunt,

Affixæ venis, animasque in vulnera ponunt."

+Virgil+

_The sting of the queen-bee_ is longer and stouter than that of the

working-bee, and bends a little under her belly. She is not eager to

employ it; and from what has been said above, of the fatality which

usually attends its use, conjecture has been busy as to the cause of her

extreme caution in this respect. +Dr. Evans+ observes, that it cannot

arise from any selfish consideration, founded on an instinctive knowledge

of the danger she thereby incurs; since the common bees, who run the same

risk when they sting, are ready to attack upon the slightest provocation.

"Is it owing," says he, "to a consciousness of the importance of her

life to the community? or may we rather ascribe it to the dignified and

generous forbearance so frequently exemplified in the lion or English

mastiff?"

The reluctance of queens to eject their stings, led Pliny and others

to imagine that they did not possess any. Their extreme caution in

this respect, and the fatal consequences usually attending a departure

from it, gave birth to the following jeux d'esprit. In consequence of

Pope Urban the Eighth being suspected of a stronger attachment to the

French than to the Spaniards, a Frenchman who had observed _three bees_

quartered upon his arms, wrote this Latin verse.

"Gallis mella dabunt, Hispanis spicula figent."

To this a Spaniard is said to have subjoined,

"Spicula si figant, emorientur apes."

To close the series, and to show his universal paternal regard towards

his flock, Pope Urban is made to add the following distich:

"Cunctis mella dabunt, et nullis spicula figent,

Spicula rex[M] etenim figere nescit apum."

[Footnote M: The ancients supposed the sovereign of the bees to be a

male.]

This _caution of the queens_ is never more conspicuously evinced than _in

their combats with each other_, for they instantly separate if there

be any danger of _mutual_ destruction from the darting forth of their

stings. +Huber+ gives a striking instance of this. Two queens in one of

his hives having left their cells at nearly the same instant, rushed

together with great apparent fury. The antennæ of each were seized by the

teeth of the other, and the head, breast, and belly of both were mutually

opposed. Finding themselves however thus dangerously situated, and their

curved extremities on the point of meeting, each disengaged itself and

flew away; when the other bees, who had before receded, to make a clear

arena for the combatants, drove them together again. This was done

repeatedly, till at last the stronger queen, seizing the other's wing,

and curling her extremities under her belly, inflicted a mortal sting.

I think this observation of Huber puts a negative upon Dr. Evans's last

question, and to assent to his first would I apprehend raise her majesty

too high in the scale of existence. I believe we must here, as in many

other similar cases, acknowledge our ignorance, and refer the proceeding

to instinct.

We have seen that where there is more than one native queen in a hive,

there is always a combat between them, terminating in the death of all

but one. It was the opinion of +Schirach+ and +Riem+, that if a stranger

queen were introduced where there was a native one, the former would be

assailed by the workers, and by them stung to death. The experiments

of +Huber+ and +Dunbar+ discountenance this opinion: indeed Huber says

that in the whole course of his experience he never knew more than one

instance of a queen's being stung by a worker, and that was wholly

unintentional.

But though the experiments to which I have just alluded, produced

different results from what we were led to expect by Schirach and Riem,

yet those of +Huber+ did not correspond with those of +Dunbar+. The

former introduced two stranger queens into hives containing native

queens; of the latter, one was fertile the other a virgin,--the former

were both fertile. Each of these introductions led to a single combat

between the queens, and each terminated in the death of the stranger.

The latter gentleman also on two occasions introduced stranger queens to

the queens regnant, in his mirror-hive; but in neither case were they

stung to death, either by the queen or workers, but merely surrounded

and confined by the latter, and by that confinement either suffocated or

starved to death. +Schirach+ and +Riem+ had probably witnessed similar

conduct on the part of the workers, and were no doubt led thereby to

conjecture that they dispatched the queens with their stings.

From what has been said of the fatal consequence to the bee itself when

it makes use of its sting for the annoyance of man and other animals, it

might be supposed that the darting of this weapon by one bee into the

body of another, might cause the death of both; but this is not usually

the case, otherwise there would be a great mortality amongst them,

when the persecution of the drones takes place. +Huber+ contrived, by

placing several of his hives upon a glass table, to witness this scene

of massacre; on which occasion the bees thrust their stings so deeply

into the bodies of the drones, (generally between the segments of the

abdomen,) as to be obliged to turn upon themselves, as upon a pivot,

before they could extricate them; but by so doing they succeeded, as do

the queens also in their combats with each other. Instances are related,

of combats between workers proving mutually destructive, from the

victors being unable to extricate their stings from the wounds they have

inflicted. +Mr. Hunter+ saw an instance of this: the bee was stung in the

mouth; and he saw it running about afterwards, with the sting and its

appurtenances adherent in the wound.

Indeed by allowing the bee to draw out her Sting gradually, when we

ourselves are stung,--which if we had sufficient firmness and presence of

mind to remain still, she would instinctively do, by bringing the beards

close down to the sides of the darts,--the life of this valuable insect

might be preserved, and the pain in the wounded part be much lessened:

but the alarm of both parties seldom admits of such forbearance. The wasp

is not so liable to leave its sting behind as the bee, the beards of the

former being rather shorter, and the insect stronger and more active.

The sooner the sting is extracted the less venom is ejected, and

consequently less inflammation induced. To alleviate the irritation,

numberless _remedies_ have been proposed, of the most opposite kind and

uncertain effect; as oil, vinegar, bruised parsley, burnet, mallow, or

the leaves of any succulent vegetable (renewed as soon as warm, and

probably therefore operating by cold alone), honey, indigo dissolved in

water, &c. &c. The _most effectual_ remedy appears to be the _Aq. Ammon._

or _Spirit of Hartshorn_: nor is this surprising, when we consider that

_the venom of the bee, or wasp, is evidently acid_. _If a humble-bee

be irritated to sting paper tinged with litmus, or any other of the

vegetable blues, the colour is changed by the acid of the venom to a

bright red;_ this acid appears not to differ from the acid (_bombic_)

of silk-worms, or (_formic_) of ants. The acrimony of the latter many

have experienced when inadvertently sitting down on an ant-hill. On

this principle, a solution of any alkali, or even lime-water, might

answer the same purpose; and soap would have the double advantage of

neutralizing the acid and allaying the inflammation, by the oil which

would be disengaged. Plunging the part stung into cold or warm water

would afford the same relief as in burns, &c. and also dilute the acid

acrimony. Quietness is the surest protection against being stung. It has

lately been affirmed, that a person is perfectly secure amidst myriads

of bees, if he carefully keep his mouth shut, and breathe gently through

the nostrils only, the human breath being, as it would appear, highly

offensive to their delicate organs. (_Vide_ Senses of Bees.) It is added

that with this precaution, hives may be turned up, and even part of the

combs cut out, while the bees are at work, with perfect impunity.

Those who wish to view the sting of a wasp or bee through a microscope,

may cut off the end of its tail, when by touching it with a needle or pin

it will thrust out the darts and their sheath, which may be then snipt

off with a pair of scissors and reserved for observation. If the insect

be caught in a leather glove and provoked to eject its sting, the same

end will be answered; as the sting being detained by its barbs, will be

left in the leather, from whence, when the creature is dead (which in

the case of a wasp will not be for many hours), the whole apparatus may,

with care, be extracted.

"Upon examining the edge of a very keen razor by the microscope, it

appeared as broad as the back of a pretty thick knife, rough, uneven, and

full of notches and furrows, and so far from any thing like sharpness,

that an instrument as blunt as this seemed to be, would not serve even to

cleave wood[N]." "An exceedingly small needle being also examined, the

point thereof appeared above a quarter of an inch in breadth; not round,

nor flat, but irregular and unequal; and the surface, though extremely

smooth and bright to the naked eye, seemed full of ruggedness, holes, and

scratches. In short it resembled an iron bar out of a smith's forge[O]."

But the sting of a bee, viewed through the same instrument, showed

every where a polish most amazingly beautiful,--without the least flaw,

blemish, or inequality; and ended in a point too fine to be discovered:

yet this is only the case or sheath of instruments much more exquisite,

contained therein, as before described.

[Footnote N: Hook's Microcosm.]

[Footnote O: Philosophical Transactions.]

+The Poison of Bees.+

The _poison of bees_, as also that of wasps, is a transparent fluid:

applied to the tongue it imparts a sweet taste, which is succeeded

by a hot acrid one. It gives a slight red tinge, as has been already

hinted, to litmus paper, and hence the +Abbé Fontana+ has concluded

that an acid enters into its composition, but in very small proportion.

The venom is so extremely active, that he conjectures a grain in weight

would kill a pigeon in a few seconds. It is this fluid which causes the

inflammation consequent upon being stung. A puncture from a needle that

was charged with it, would produce precisely the same effects. These

effects are very different in different persons; for whilst a single

sting will produce alarming symptoms in one individual, another may

receive numerous punctures without sustaining pain or inflammation in any

considerable degree; sometimes without suffering either. The activity of

the venom varies according to the season of the year: a sting received

in winter produces much less inconvenience than one inflicted in summer;

the pain and inflammation are neither so intense nor of such long

continuance. This may arise from there being a more copious secretion of

venom in summer than in winter; for during the former season, if a bee

inflict several wounds with its sting, the pain and inflammation become

progressively less at each consecutive puncture: after three or four

punctures, it is rendered incapable of producing more inconvenience than

the point of a sharp needle.

If a bee be provoked to dart its sting against glass, so as to eject

its venom upon it, and the glass thus charged be placed upon a double

microscope, oblong pointed crystals will become visible; these may be

seen at first floating in the venom, and gradually shooting into crystals

as the fluid part evaporates.

+The Anger of Bees.+

I have already treated of the disposition of bees to use their stings,

when irritated, either by direct interference with them, or by the

approach of persons to whom they have an antipathy. +Virgil+ has, in

strong terms, noticed their irascibility:--when once provoked, says he,

they set no bounds to their anger, but

"Deem life itself to vengeance well resign'd,

Die on the wound, and leave their stings behind."

_Fatal consequences_ occurring from their wounds are not often heard of,

though such I believe have occasionally happened. +Messrs. Kirby+ and

+Spence+ relate an instance of a violent fever being produced, by the

injury they inflicted, and in which the person's recovery was for some

time doubtful. +Mungo Park+ also mentions, in his Travels, an instance

of severe annoyance from them, and states that he lost several asses

in Africa owing to their being attacked by bees. +Mr. Talbot+, in his

Five Years Residence in the Canadas, states, that during the summer of

1820, the _Rev. Ralph Leeming_ having sent a fine horse to grass at a

neighbouring farmer's, who kept about twenty stocks of bees, the animal

got upon the lawn where the hives were placed, and by accident overturned

one of them, the bees of which attacked him with great virulence. The

horse, rearing and kicking from agony, overthrew another hive. Having

thus doubled the number of his assailants, his sufferings brought him to

the ground, and in less than five minutes from the commencement of the

attack the poor animal was literally stung to death.

The anger of bees is not confined to man, and other large animals; it is

sometimes vented upon their own kind, not only in single combat, but in

conflicts of organized masses. Cases of the former kind every observer

must have noticed; and of the latter, several instances have been related

by +Reaumur+, +Thorley+, +Knight+, and others. The engagement, witnessed

by +Thorley+, lasted more than two days, and originated in a swarm's

attempting to take possession of an already occupied hive. Remarkable

battles of this kind have also been related by other writers. Whenever

the angry excitation is diffused through a whole community, a great

accession of heat is produced in the hive.

Notwithstanding bees are thus occasionally animated by a most vindictive

spirit, against what they regard as a public enemy, they are not found

to display any peculiar hostility in the revenge of a private injury,

committed upon them at a distance from their homes. This is a fact which

has been noticed both by +Mr. Hunter+ and +Mr. Knight+. The former

observes also, that bees never sting but in the neighbourhood of their

property, unless hurt; that they never contend with each other for honey,

unless it be placed within the boundary of their own right,--but that

what they have collected they defend. The indisposition of bees to attack

or be angry at a distance has been confirmed by +Mr. Knight+, who says,

that, though the most irritable of animals near home, he has seen them

suffer themselves to be patiently robbed of their loads by other bees,

and that he has witnessed this in the same bee three times in succession.

He says likewise, that if the wasps in a nest have their communication

cut off from those that are abroad, the latter, on their return, will not

make any attack; but that if one escape from the interior, it evinces a

very different temper, and is ready to sacrifice its life to avenge the

injury. This +Mr. Knight+ discovered when a boy, and he has no doubt

but that if a similar proceeding were adopted towards bees, they would

observe the same conduct.

+The Language of Bees.+

All creatures that live in society seem to possess the power of

communicating intelligence to one another. "Brutes," says +Mr. Knight+,

"have language to express sentiments of love, of fear, and of anger;

yet they seem unable to transmit any impression they have received from

external objects. But the language of bees is more extensive: if not a

language of ideas, it is something very similar." This faculty has been

very remarkably illustrated by +Huber+ in his Treatise on Ants; and the

bee exhibits many strong evidences of it. +Huber+ clearly shows that the

communications of Ants are made through the medium of their antennæ; he

has also proved very satisfactorily, that these organs serve the same

purpose in bees.

Being desirous of ascertaining whether when a queen was removed from

a hive, (a circumstance which is communicated to the whole family

within an hour,) they discovered their loss by means of smell, touch,

or any unknown sense; he accordingly divided a hive into two portions,

by means of a grating which admitted a free circulation of air, but

denied a passage to the bees, or even to their antennæ: the consequence

was, that the bees contained in the half that had no queen, after

they had recovered from the agitation[P] always produced under such

circumstances, set about building royal cells, just as they would have

done if the queen had been entirely removed from the hive. He repeated

this experiment, with a grating which allowed the transmission of the

antennæ only. Here the effect was quite different: for the bees being

able to assure themselves, by the frequent crossing of their antennæ with

those of the queen, that she was still amongst them, every thing remained

in order; the brood were attended to, no interruption took place in any

of their labours, nor were any royal cells commenced. From all these

experiments (and they were repeatedly tried), it seems evident that the

antennæ of bees, as well as of ants, possess the faculty of receiving and

conveying information. Bees receive some kinds of intelligence through

the medium of certain sounds, as has been stated in another place.

[Footnote P: This agitation usually continues two or three hours,

sometimes (though but seldom) four or five,--never longer.]

_The antennæ_, in addition to the uses already ascribed to them, may

serve to _inform the bees of the state of the atmosphere, and enable

them to discern the approach of a change in the weather_. The suddenness

and rapidity of their flight towards the apiary, often afford a hint to

the observer of their proceedings, that a storm is at hand, of which he

received no intimation from any other quarter.

"Inque vicem speculantur aquas et nubila cœli."

+Virgil+

"That the bees," says +Dr. Evans+, "can foresee bad weather, is a fact

beyond denial; though we know not through the medium of what sense that

faculty is exerted. We are often surprised to find, even with a promising

appearance of the sky, their labours suddenly cease, and that not a bee

stirs out; or, on the contrary, that those which a e abroad, hurry home

in such crowds that the door is too small for their admission. But on

strictly examining the heavens, we may discern some small and distant

clouds, which, insensibly collecting, soon after descend in rain." The

Doctor likewise says, that an observant friend of his, foretells with

confidence that rain will fall in the course of a few hours, when he

finds on a clear summer's morning that his garden is wholly deserted by

his neighbour's bees. In this he enjoys an advantage over their real

owner, the flowers near the apiary being crowded as usual by these wary

foragers. "If," says +Mr. Kirby+, "they wander far from home, and do

not return till late in the evening, it is a prognostic to be depended

upon, that the following day will be fine: but if they remain near their

habitations, and be seen frequently going and returning,--although no

indication of wet should be discoverable, clouds will soon arise and rain

come on. Ants also are observed to be excellently gifted in this respect:

though they daily bring out their larvæ to the sun, they are never

overtaken by sudden showers."

I have before stated that in the course of an hour the important

intelligence of the loss or safety of a queen is known to a whole colony.

It seems highly improbable that in this time, 20,000 bees should have

assured themselves of the presence and safety of their queen, by applying

their antennæ to hers; such an attempt would create a state of complete

confusion. Huber proved by a very decisive experiment, similar to those

already related, that the queen is not distinguishable by her subjects,

in consequence of any emanation from her person. There must then be some

mode, to which I have given the name of language, by which those who have

exchanged contact with their antennæ can communicate the tranquillizing

intelligence to their companions. It seems impossible to explain, in any

other way, the concurrence of so many wills to one end; or that sudden

interruption and restitution of harmony which are often exhibited in

every community of bees. It is the opinion of +Mr. Knight+ that bees

are not only capable of communicating intelligence to the members of

their own family, but that a friendly intercourse sometimes takes place

between neighbouring colonies: the cases which he has related in support

of this opinion, however, can hardly be said to bear him out in it; for

in each of them, after the intercourse had continued for a few days, it

terminated in violent hostility. Such instances, though not of frequent

occurrence, have been occasionally noticed by others.

+Sleep of Bees.+

It is reasonable to suppose that every part of animated nature needs

occasional intervals of repose. That this is the case with the bee seems

evident, from the almost motionless quietude of the workers, which often

occurs for fifteen or twenty minutes together, each bee inserting its

head and thorax into a cell, where it might be mistaken for dead, were

it not for the dilatation of the segments of its abdomen. The queen

sometimes does the same in a drone's cell, where she continues without

motion a very long time, when "the workers form a circle round her,

and gently brush the uncovered parts of her abdomen. The drones while

reposing do not enter the cells, but cluster in the combs, and sometimes

remain without stirring a limb for eighteen or twenty hours." +Huber+

says that he has seen the workers, even in the middle of the day, when

apparently wearied with exertion, insert half their bodies into the empty

cells, and remain there, as if taking a nap, for half an hour or longer;

at night they regularly muster, in a sleep-like silence.

"The sun declining, through the murky air.

Home to their hives the vagrant bands repair,

There in soft slumber close their willing eyes,

And hush'd in silence, the whole nation lies."

+Murphy's Vaniere.+

+Longevity of Bees.+

The several members of a hive have very different periods of existence.

The general law among insects is, that both male and female shall perish

soon after sexual union; in a few days or weeks at furthest, according to

the time, probably, that the female occupies in maturing and depositing

her eggs. By retarding sexual union, the lives of some insects may be

very much prolonged,--even ephemeræ have been kept alive by this means

for seven or eight days. Annual plants, if prevented from seeding, may

be rendered biennial. The bee and some other insects are exempted from

this forfeiture of life after sexual union, with the exception already

alluded to in page 33. The ancients were very deficient in knowledge

upon this subject. +Virgil+ fixes the term of a bee's existence at seven

years[Q], having probably copied from +Aristotle+; though Aristotle

says that bees who live to an extreme old age may reach to nine or ten

years. +Columella+[R] and +Pliny+[S] have been supposed to regard their

existence as extending to ten years; though the language of the former

applies to the existence of the community, and not to individual bees:

and provided the hive be never changed, nor the combs renewed, it is not

likely that any one family should have its existence prolonged beyond

that period; as the accumulation of silken pellicles with which the

breeding-cells are successively lined, would render them unfit for use

in a very few years. In addition to the diminution of the cells by this

succession of silken linings, they are also diminished further by the

excrement of the larvæ, which is never cleaned out, but confined behind

each lining: both together, therefore, soon render the cells unfit for

use as brood-cells. +Mr. Hunter+ found three of these layers deposited

in a single season, and counted upwards of twenty in the cells of an old

comb; which, upon an average of three a year, would correspond with the

period fixed by the ancients; though this observation by no means proves

that the hive upon which it was made, or any other, might not have had

a much more protracted existence. +Mr. Espinasse+ tells us that he once

took a hive which had stood fourteen years, having found that it had

become weak: it had nevertheless sent off a swarm the year previous.

There is an instance or two on record, of one family having continued in

the same hive for thirty years. One of these is mentioned by +Reaumur+,

another by +Mouffet+. +Thorley+ speaks of a colony having occupied the

same domicile for 110 _years_. The spot chosen was under the leads of

the study of +Ludovicus Vives+ in Oxford: the original swarm settled

there in 1520 and kept possession till 1630. Query,--may not the bees

when the combs become very old and the cells much diminished in size,

remove them and construct fresh ones? To those who may wish for their own

satisfaction to examine the linings of a brood cell, I would observe,

that +Mr. Hunter's+ mode of proceeding was, to soak the cell in water,

till the linings were swelled, when he had no difficulty in separating

and counting them: he found them separate most readily at the bottom, on

account of the inclosed excrement.

[Footnote Q:

"Ergo ipsas quamvis angusti terminus ævi

Excipiat, neque enim plus septima ducitur æstas."

]

[Footnote R:

"Durantque, si diligenter excultæ sint, in annos decem."

+Columella+]

[Footnote S:

"Alveos nunquam

Ultra decem annos durasse proditur."

+Pliny+]

To common observers it might appear, that the lives of the bees were

coeval with the foundation of the colony, presuming upon all the young

bees leaving the parent stock in swarms. But I have already stated that

all swarms consist of a mixture of young and old bees; the difference

between them is very distinguishable, those of the present year being

brown, plump, and clothed with light hairs, whilst the old ones have red

hairs, notched and ragged wings, and are paler and more shrunk in their

bodies.

The cases which I have related, and others of a similar kind, have led to

the erroneous opinion that bees are a long-lived race. But this, as +Dr.

Evans+ has observed, is just as wise as if a stranger, contemplating a

populous city, and personally unacquainted with its inhabitants, should

on paying it a second visit, many years afterwards, and finding it

equally populous, imagine that it was peopled by the same individuals,

not one of whom might be then alive. "Such strangers are we to the honied

hive, where, however quickly its generations may have passed away, the

same face is presented to the beholder."

"The race and realm from age to age remain,

And time but lengthens with new links the chain."

+Sotheby's Georgics.+

The usual term of the male's existence is two or three months only;--I

say the usual term, for his life is always cut off by violence, when no

peculiar circumstances arise to render his existence any longer useful.

Such circumstances having arisen, as has been before observed, (page 44,)

he may be kept alive a much longer period, for a year at least, but how

much longer has not as yet been ascertained.

With respect to the queen, by comparing what has been said above, as to

insects not dying till their eggs are all matured, with what has been

stated in page 31 of a single sexual union serving to impregnate all the

eggs laid for the two succeeding years, it would appear that the period

of her existence could not, in general, be less than two years; and

+Huber+ has proved very satisfactorily, that this is the fact: indeed he

states that he has known a queen live for five years. +Feburier+ suspects

that, like the males, the queens are destroyed by the labourers, when

they have fulfilled their destination. The only ground of this opinion,

however, appears to be his having witnessed an attack made upon a queen

by six labourers, from whom he with difficulty rescued her. +Messrs.

Kirby+ and +Spence+, in like manner, seem to think it not improbable that

when the workers become too old to be useful to the community, they are

either killed or expelled the society. _Vide_ page 7. Reaumur also throws

out a hint to the same purpose.

The length of a working bee's life has not yet been ascertained; but the

general opinion is that it is short-lived. +Butler+ says that "the bee

is but little more than a year's bird;" and some think the period of its

existence shorter still. "The bees of the present year," says +Butler+,

"will retain their vigour and youthful appearance till (Gemini), about

the 21st of May in the following year, when they begin to decline, and

from (Cancer to Leo) June 21st to August 21st, the ground in front of

the apiary may be seen strewed with them, some dead, some dying, and a

few alive but incapable of rising again, and by (Libra) 32d September,

scarcely an old bee will be left."

CHAPTER XXXII.

SENSES OF BEES.

In considering the phænomena of insect sensation, little advantage can

be derived from analogy; the physiology of the senses of bees, and other

insects, is therefore but imperfectly understood. Still they must have

credit for the _possession_ of senses, however differently modified

from those of man. Some of their senses may open avenues to knowledge,

with which he must ever remain unacquainted. Arts which he is obliged

to attain by long labour and great diligence, they seem to derive from

nature, through the medium no doubt of organs so exquisitely fine, as to

elude not only his search, but even his conception.

Of all the senses of bees, none appears to be so acute, as that

of +Smell+. It is this which, in all probability, enables them to

distinguish, not only individuals of their own species, but one human

being from another; and also to discover honey-dews and honey-bearing

flowers, at a very considerable distance; (honey of all odorous

substances, being the most attractive to them:) it may tend likewise

to cause that neatness which they observe in themselves and in their

habitations. An experiment, made by +Huber+, demonstrates that they

possess the faculty of smell. He placed vessels of honey in boxes

perforated with very small holes, to allow the odorous effluvia to

escape, but not of sufficient size to permit a sight of the honey, when

the bees came directly to the boxes. He also tried this experiment with

the addition of small card valves, which the bees, after examining the

boxes all round, contrived to raise up, that they might get at the

honey. +Mr. Hunter+ states, that he has seen great commotion produced in

a recent swarm in wet weather, when he supposes the bees to have been

hungry, by placing honey on the floor of the hive. It was a glass-hive,

which afforded him a good opportunity of observing their proceedings,

and he says that all of them appeared to be upon the scent: even those

that were weak and hardly able to crawl, threw out the proboscis as far

as possible, to get at the honey, which he thinks must have arisen from

their smelling and not from their seeing it.

This presumed nicety of their smell should induce a carefulness that

no offensive odours be near an apiary. The notorious frequenting, by

bees, of the depositories of urine and the dung of animals, might seem

to render such carefulness futile: but upon this subject I have written

in a former chapter, and have since had the pleasure of seeing my

opinion confirmed by that of +Messrs. Kirby+ and +Spence+.--Bees appear

to have an antipathy to particular individuals. Their aversion, in

all probability, arises from the persons disliked having some peculiar

odour about them, which though not unpleasant to man, may be so to bees.

Whatever the odour, it seems to be transmitted by the breath: +Huber+

was of this opinion. Speaking of the impunity with which his assistant

_Francis Burnens_ performed his various operations upon bees, he observes

that "the gentleness of his motions, and the habit of repressing his

respiration, could alone preserve him from the wrath of such formidable

insects."

The different reception which persons experience on approaching the

domicile of bees is attributed by some apiarians to the different

degrees of confidence manifested in the approach: they are of opinion,

that if visitors could avoid the exhibition of all apprehension, they

would not be attacked. My own experience has long convinced me of the

erroneousness of this opinion: and a circumstance which occurred to

+Monsieur de Hofer+, _Conseilleur d'etat du_ +Grand Duc de Baden+,

strengthens my dissent from it. He had for years been a proprietor and an

admirer of bees, and almost rivalled Wildman in the power he possessed

of approaching them with impunity: he would at any time search for the

queen, and taking hold of her gently, place her upon his hand. But having

been unfortunately attacked with a violent fever, and long confined

by it; on his recovery he attempted to resume his favourite amusement

among the bees, returning to them with all that confidence and pleasure

which he had felt on former occasions; when to his great surprise and

disappointment he discovered that he was no longer in possession of their

favour; and that instead of being received by them as an old friend, he

was treated as a trespasser: nor was he ever able, after this period, to

perform any operation upon them, or to approach within their precincts,

without exciting their anger. Here then it is pretty evident that some

change had taken place in the Counsellor's secretions, in consequence of

the fever, which though not noticeable by his friends, was offensive to

the olfactory nerves of the bees. I had this anecdote from Monsieur de

Hofer's son, with whom I passed a very agreeable evening in London at the

house of my friend Joseph Hodgetts, Esq.

The extreme sensitiveness of smell in bees is evinced by their

promptitude in resenting an injury inflicted on any of their community.

In hiving, or performing any other operation upon them, great caution

should therefore be observed, lest any of them be trodden upon or crushed

to death. It may be thought that this promptitude to resent the injury I

have here mentioned, may not proceed from the acuteness of their smell,

but from an effect produced upon some other organ of sense. I infer that

it proceeds from the former, on account of their being so quickly roused

to anger from a state of tranquillity, by having a fresh envenomed sting

and its appendages presented before the entrance of their dwelling. This

experiment, of presenting fresh poison to the bees, was tried by +Huber+

in such a variety of ways, as to prove beyond all doubt that it was the

penetrating odour of the poison only, and not the manner of presenting

it, that affected them; for when the poison had coagulated, the same mode

of presentation produced no sensible effect, it might be offered them

with perfect impunity.

Butterflies and Moths are supposed to be directed by this sense to the

discovery of their mates. If the female of the eggar moth (_Phalæna

quercus_) be inclosed in a box, and placed in the neighbourhood of the

males, they are attracted to the spot in such numbers as to show clearly

that they are sensible of her presence. We have analogous instances of

the existence of this faculty in other insects. The flesh-fly (_Musca

vomitoria_) occasionally deposits its eggs on plants of the Stapelia

genus, no doubt from their odour resembling that of putrefying flesh.

This may be regarded by some as an evidence of mistaken instinct; but

from what I have said in the chapter on Instinct, I think that my

readers will consider this to be erroneous, and that it should rather

be regarded as affording presumptive evidence of mistaken judgement.

Instinct would direct the creature to deposit its eggs where the larvæ

when hatched would be furnished with the means of subsistence, instead

of thus exposing them to perish. At all events it affords tolerably good

evidence of the existence of an organ of smell in the insect.

The sense of +Touch+ in bees, that is their _active_ or _exploring

touch_, seems to be very acute. To the nicety of this sense has been

attributed their power of commencing and carrying on their works amid

the darkness of the hives. The recognition of their queen evinces the

existence of some such sense; for the experiments related at page 292,

indicate that her presence is not ascertained either by the organs of

sight, hearing, or smell.

The +Antennæ+ have generally been considered as their organs of touch;

and indeed, in popular language, they are usually called Feelers or

horns; they have likewise assigned to them the office of wiping and

cleaning the eyes. The antennæ, however, are not regarded as feelers by

our leading entomologists: at present their uses are not clearly defined.

Some have regarded them as organs of smell; others as organs of hearing;

a third party have conceived that they perform some function of which

man has no definite idea,--supplying the insect with a sixth sense, an

intermediate faculty, according to +Messrs. Kirby+ and +Spence+, between

hearing and touch, rendering it sensible of the slightest movement of

the circumambient air. +Dr. Evans+ designates the antennæ as their

sight-supplying sense;

"The same keen horns, within the dark abode.

Trace, for the sightless throng, a ready road,

While all the mazy threads of touch convey,

Shot inward to the mind, a semblant day."

+Evans.+

The antennæ, of which there are only a single pair, proceed from the

anterior part of the head before the eyes.

The +Palpi+ are generally considered as the true feelers; which, as

well from their texture as from the manner in which insects apply them

to their food before they begin to eat it, seems probable: Cuvier and

Lehmann were of this opinion. The palpi are attached to the under jaws

and lips, and are four in number. In some respects they bear analogy to

the antennæ; but the latter, being more articulated, have an extended

power of motion. Some insects with small antennæ are observed to have

very large palpi, which gives reason to suppose, that although their

offices may be different, they are intended to assist each other.

The antennæ appear to be the more important organs of the two; as the

palpi, when removed, have not been found to occasion much apparent

inconvenience; whilst from the experiments of +Huber+ and others, it

appears that the excision of the antenna deprives the insect of the

perfect exercise of its functions. It seems immediately to lose its

instincts. The amputation of one antenna produces no effect; but if

both be cut off near the root, the bee no longer possesses the power of

guiding itself; it cannot direct its tongue to receive food from its

companions, nor take any share in the operations of the family; but

exhibits perfect indifference, and keeps near the entrance, apparently

for the sake of light; when that is withdrawn, it soon leaves the hive to

return no more. "Their departure," says +Huber+, "must be ascribed to the

loss of that sense, which is employed to guide them in the dark."

That bees possess a fine sense of +Taste+, may be readily conceived from

the delicious food which they collect, and from their having a preference

for those flowers that afford the best honey, whenever such flowers grow

abundantly in the neighbourhood of the hives. Hence the superiority of

the honey of Narbonne, Hymettus, and Pontus. +Huber+ regards Taste as the

least perfect of the senses of bees, but the reasons he gives for this

opinion are unsatisfactory. Indeed the tongue of the bee is an organ so

considerably developed, as to afford very strong evidence of its power of

discrimination in the selection of food. +Cuvier+ considers it to be one

of the primary functions of its organization.

There is tolerably good presumptive evidence that bees have a quick sense

of +Hearing+, from their being so sensibly affected by different sounds.

The voice of the queen, for instance, has according to +Bonner+ and

+Huber+ an almost magical effect upon them; and the practice of making

some sort of noise at the time of hiving is founded upon this opinion.

+Huber+ is of opinion that if bees do possess the sense of hearing it is

differently modified from the same sense among beings of a higher order.

The consequences which ensue upon the production of certain sounds either

by themselves or others, show that the vibrations of the air make an

impression upon some sense: +Huber+, for reasons which he does not well

define, designates it as a sense analogous to hearing, a something acting

in concert with and in aid of the antennæ.

+Linnæus+ and +Bonnet+ thought that insects do not possess the sense of

hearing; but I think they were mistaken. I have just stated the effect

produced by the voice of a queen-bee, under particular circumstances; and

there are other evidences, equally strong, to show that insects possess

this faculty. One grasshopper will chirp in response to another, and the

female be attracted by the voice of the male. +Brunelli+ shut up a male

in a box, and allowed the female her liberty: as soon as the male chirped

she flew to him immediately. For further evidence of the existence of

this faculty in insects, see page 262. (Organs of Sensation.)

The +Eye-Sight+ of bees, notwithstanding the wonderful mechanism of their

eyes, seems less perfect than their other senses: on some occasions it

scarcely serves them to distinguish the entrance of their hives, when

they come home loaded with provision. +Wildman+ says that he has observed

them go up and down, seeking the door of the hive, and be obliged after

alighting to rise again in order to find it: he conceived that they see

better when flying than when on foot. I believe, however, that this

opinion of +Wildman+ will not, upon examination, be found quite correct.

The mere act of flying does not enable them to see objects better; but

when on the wing, they are at a greater distance from those objects, the

eyes of these insects being so constructed as to enable them to see best

at a moderate distance. As +Dr. Evans+ has justly remarked, therefore,

"the poet's disdainful allusion to a

Fly whose feeble ray scarce spreads

An inch around----

should here be exactly reversed." +Dr. Derham+ in his Physico-theology

has observed, when speaking of the eye of the bee and other insects,

that "the cornea and optic nerves, being always at one and the same

distance, are fitted only to see distantial objects, but not such as

are very nigh." This visual orb, this seemingly simple speck, though

really complicated piece of mechanism, says +Derham+, "will be found upon

examination to form a curious lattice-work of several thousand hexagonal

lenses, each having a separate optic nerve ministering to it, and

therefore to be considered as a distinct eye[T]. +M. Leewenhoeck+, having

properly prepared and placed an eye of this kind betwixt his microscope

and a church steeple (299 feet high and 750 distant), saw plainly the

steeple inverted, through every different lens, though each lens was

not larger than a needle's point. Yet, doubtless the insect perceives

but a single object, and that in an upright position. The hemispheric

arrangement of these lenses enables the bee to see accurately in every

direction, and without any interval of time or trouble."

[Footnote T: The multitude of hexagonal lenses which compose the eye of

a bee, make it appear, when viewed through a microscope, exactly like

honey-comb.]

"Not huge Behemoth, not the Whale's vast form.

That spouts a torrent, and that breathes a storm.

Transcends in organs apt this puny fly,

Her fine-strung feelers, and her glanceful eye,

Set with ten thousand lenses."

+Evans.+

The eyes of all insects are immoveable, and have neither iris nor pupil

nor eyelids to cover them: but this apparent defect is amply made up

to them in a variety of ways: in the case before us, by the complex

structure of the organs. +Reaumur+ performed an experiment similar to

that which I have just related of +Leewenhoeck+, and with a like result,

+Hooke+ computed the lenses in the eye of a horse-fly to amount to nearly

7000. +Leewenhoeck+ found more than 12,000 in that of a dragon-fly; and

17,325 have been counted in the eye of a butterfly. The lenses are most

numerous in the beetle, and so small as not to be easily discoverable

under a pocket microscope, except the eye be turned white by long keeping.

The peculiar construction of the bee's eye, for seeing objects best

at a moderate distance, will account for the circumstance noticed by

+Wildman+, and also for the following observation of +Dr. Evans+. "We

frequently observe bees flying straight homewards through the trackless

air, as if in full view of the hive, then running their heads against it,

and seeming to _feel_ their way to the door with their antennæ, as if

totally blind." +Sir C. S. Mackenzie+ remarked the imperfect vision of

bees, and how very much puzzled they are to find the entrances to their

hives, if the relative position of the entrances be altered, or the hives

be removed two or three yards from the place where they have usually

stood. In cases of removal, the bees do not during the first day fly to a

distance, nor till they have visited and recognized neighbouring objects.

+Mr. Rogers+, in his "Pleasures of Memory," has noticed this defective

vision in the bee. Having spoken of her excursive flights to a distance,

and referred to her bending her course homewards again, he observes,

"That eye so finely wrought.

Beyond the search of sense, the soar of thought.

Now vainly asks the scenes she left behind;

Its orb so full, its vision so confined!"

And he concludes that it is by the aid of memory that she retraces her

passage back to the hive, by recognizing the scents of the various

flowers which she has passed or visited on her outward journey,--

"The varied scents that charm'd her as she flew."

But this idea, as Messrs. Kirby and Spence have observed, is more

poetical than accurate, the bees being always accustomed to fly to their

hives in right lines.

In consequence of this peculiarity of insect vision, many of those bees

that return homewards after dusk in the evening, are obliged to lie

abroad all night. The same peculiarity, added to the acuteness of their

smell, has given birth to various contrivances for inducing bees of

different hives to mingle peaceably together, as mentioned at page 154.

From the experiments of Swammerdam, Reaumur, Hooke and others, it seems

that bees and other insects, particularly those of the hymenopterous

order, possess organs of vision, besides those which are properly called

their eyes. These organs, known by the name of +Stemmata+, are three

smooth, glossy, hemispherical dots, placed in a triangular position upon

the vertex or top of the head. The two reticular eyes of one of these

insects having been covered with fluid pitch, (the stemmata being left

open,) when placed under a glass, the insect ran up and down, but without

striking against the sides of the glass. In a similar experiment upon a

dragon-fly (_Libellula_), the insect flew away, but in its flight struck

against walls and other objects. The stemmata in another insect being

covered, and the reticular eyes left open, seemed to cause no impediment

to its usual proceedings, it appeared to see as well as before. But when

both the stemmata and the eyes were covered, the insect seemed to be

totally deprived of sight, it walked slowly under the glass, and when

allowed its liberty, would not venture to fly. These experiments being

tried upon bees by Reaumur, they remained immoveable, appearing uncertain

where to direct their flight: when their eyes only were covered, they

flew perpendicularly upwards till they were out of sight, seeming to

follow that direction which the aid of the stemmata afforded them. These

stemmata may, from their situation, assist the insect in performing its

various operations in the interior of the hive; may, as Reaumur has

observed, answer to them the purpose of microscopes.

I cannot conclude this chapter on the Senses of Bees without noticing

the theory of that eminent physiologist +Dr. Virey+. He has given it as

his opinion, that there are seven senses, which he thus divides. Four

physical, namely, Touch, Taste, Smell, and Love; three intellectual,

namely. Hearing, Sight, and Thought. (_N. Dict. d'Hist. Nat._) Whether

Love and Thought should be added to my enumeration of the senses of bees

I shall not now inquire: if they may be, this work will supply abundant

evidence of both, if we comprehend the whole community of bees; for

though physical love appears not to constitute any part of the pleasure

of the working bee, (except from some accidental cause which has been

already explained,) there is presumptive proof of its possessing thought

or intellect: and although it may not be easy to adduce testimony in

favour of the queen's or the drone's possessing thought, they both

satisfactorily evince a susceptibility of physical love.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

INSTINCTS OF BEES.

All creatures, of whatever size, that live together in large communities,

have long been observed to display more knowledge and ingenuity than

those that do not congregate: this superiority is also supposed to

distinguish those which possess the most exquisite sense of touch, and

whose occupations require a continued exertion of their powers. The

insect tribe strongly confirm the truth of these remarks.

Solitary insects may exhibit a single trait of superiority, either in the

catching of their prey, as the spider does; or in the securing of a well

protected habitation, as is instanced by the carpenter bee, the mason

bee, and some other lone and non-associating insects: but the history of

those which unite in societies unfolds more of insect energy and talent.

In large communities a combination of exertions is requisite, to procure

supplies for the general weal; an intercourse of mutual intelligence is

kept up; labour is regularly divided; the sphere of action is extended;

and in cases of emergency, there is an unusual manifestation of insect

power and intelligence. Instances of all these faculties are eminently

conspicuous in the honey-bee;--some of them I have before noticed, and

shall now advert to a few more.

The mental powers of bees, if I may be allowed to use the term, have

been included, by some writers under the general name of Instinct[U];

others, considering the whole of their proceedings to be fraught with

intelligence, have regarded them as evidences of a reasoning power. _All_

the phænomena of insect life cannot I presume be explained without giving

them credit for both.

[Footnote U: Huber has observed that the instinct of the humble-bee is

still more _refined_ than that of the honey-bee. As an instance of this,

he states that the former when unable to penetrate a flower through its

natural cavity, makes an aperture at the base of the corolla, or even

of the calyx, and insinuates its proboscis into the reservoir of honey,

through the opening it has made.]

"Deem not, vain mortal, that reserv'd for thee

Hangs all the ripening fruit on reason's tree;

Even these, the tiniest tenants of thy care,

Claim of that reason, their apportion'd share:

Witness yon slaughter'd snail, within their door,

Tomb'd like the first bold Greek on Ilion's shore."

+Evans.+

A snail having crept into one of _M. Reaumur's_ hives early in the

morning, after crawling about for some time, adhered by means of its

own slime to one of the glass panes, where, but for the bees, it would

probably have remained, till either a moist air or its own spume had

loosened the adhesion. The bees having discovered the snail, immediately

surrounded it, and formed a border of propolis round the verge of its

shell, which was, at last, so securely fixed to the glass, as to become

immoveable, either by the moisture of the air from without, or by the

snail's secretion from within.

"Nor aught avails that in his torpid veins,

Year after year, life's loitering spark remains[V]:

For ever clos'd the impenetrable door,

He sinks on death's cold arm to rise no more."

+Evans.+

[Footnote V: In the Annual Register for 1775 some very extraordinary

instances are related of the protraction of life in snails. After they

had lain in a cabinet above fifteen years, immersing them in water caused

them to revive and crawl out of their shells.]

_Maraldi_ has related a somewhat similar instance. A houseless snail or

slug, as it is called, had entered one of his hives: the bees, as soon as

they observed it, pierced it with their stings, till it expired beneath

their repeated strokes; after which, being unable to dislodge it, they

covered it all over with propolis.

"For, soon in fearless ire, their wonder lost.

Spring fiercely from the comb th' indignant host.

Lay the pierc'd monster breathless on the ground,

And clap, in joy, their victor pinions round.

While all in vain concurrent numbers strive,

To heave the slime-girt giant from the hive,--

Sure not alone by force instinctive sway'd,

But blest with reason's soul-directing aid,

Alike in man or bee, they haste to pour,

Thick hardening as it falls, the flaky shower;

Embalm'd in shroud of glue the mummy lies,

No worms invade, no foul miasmas rise."

+Evans.+

In these two cases, who can withhold his admiration of the ingenuity and

judgement of the bees? _In the first case_, a troublesome creature gained

admission into the hive, which, from its unwieldiness, they could not

remove, and which, from the impenetrability of its shell, they could not

destroy: here then their only resource was to deprive it of loco-motion,

and to obviate putrefaction; both which objects they accomplished most

skilfully and securely,--and, as is usual with these sagacious creatures,

at the least possible expense of labour and materials. They applied

their cement, where alone it was required, namely, round the verge of

the shell. _In the latter case_, to obviate the evil of putrescence,

by the total exclusion of air, they were obliged to be more lavish in

the use of their embalming material, and to form with it so complete

an incrustation or case over the "slime-girt giant," as to guard them

from the consequences which the atmosphere invariably produces upon

all animal substances, that are exposed to its action after life has

become extinct. May it not be asked, What means more effectual could

human wisdom have devised, under similar circumstances? Indeed, many of

the proceedings of bees and other associated insects seem traceable to

a reasoning power; for they exhibit an adaptation of means to ends, and

vary them to suit particular emergencies,--the judicious performance of

actions with a view to some proposed end, is the criterion by which we

judge of rationality.

On the other hand, the difficulty of ascribing some of their actions to

any other principle than that which is known by the name of _Instinct_,

has led to a classification of the whole of their proceedings under

_that_ head.

+Instinct+ is a faculty the exercise of which implies an exquisitely fine

mechanism of some of the senses. It appears to operate independently of

all anticipation of consequences; the avenues to knowledge are, to be

sure, less circuitous in these and other animals than in man, neither

experience nor inductive reasoning seem to be at all essential to the

perfection of their operations; they may be said to have, what many an

indolent human being has wished to find,--a royal road to knowledge.

"If in the Insect, Reason's twilight ray

Sheds on the darkling mind a doubtful day.

Plain is the steady light her _Instincts_ yield.

To point the road o'er life's unvaried field;

If few those Instincts, to the destin'd goal,

With surer course, their straiten'd currents roll."

+Evans.+

One writer, and that a very ingenious one, has endeavoured to resolve

_all_ instincts into reason, and has boldly hazarded the following

conjecture. "If we were better acquainted with the histories of those

insects that are formed into societies,--as the bees, wasps and ants,--we

should find that their arts and improvements are not so similar and

uniform as they now appear to us, but that they arose in the same manner

(from experience and tradition) as the arts of our own species; though

their reasoning is from few ideas, is busied about fewer objects, and is

exerted with less energy[W]."

[Footnote W: Darwin.]

Since the Doctor wrote this passage, much light has been thrown upon

those very subjects on which he laments our defective knowledge: but

whilst it strengthens what I have said as to the possession of reason by

insects, it confirms my observations respecting their instinctive powers.

There are facts recorded, in +Huber's+ _researches respecting ants_,

which exhibit in some at least of those insects, (_the Amazons_,) a

power of acquiring habits and characters which cannot well be regarded

as merely instinctive. The Amazons take advantage of an improvement in

their condition, and avail themselves of that strength, which sometimes

accrues to them, in consequence of a large accession to their numbers.

To relieve themselves from labour, they enslave, by a _coup de main_, a

feeble colony of ants of another species, and transporting it to their

own domicile, impose upon the captives the task of collecting provision,

rearing the young, repairing the formicary, &c. &c. The Amazons become

a complete aristocracy, and like ladies and gentlemen, have servants to

wait upon them.