be furnished with another proof of their language. The ants will take a
thousand different paths, each going by itself, to increase the chance
of discovery; they will meet and cross each other in all directions,
and perhaps will wander long before they can find a spot convenient
for their reunion. No sooner does any one discover a little chink in
the floor, through which it can pass below, than it returns to its
companions, and, by means of certain motions of its antennæ, makes some
of them comprehend what route they are to pursue to find it, sometimes
even accompanying them to the spot; these, in their turn, become the
guides of others, till all know which way to direct their steps[69].
It is well known also, that ants give each other information when
they have discovered any store of provision. Bradley relates a
striking instance of this. A nest of ants in a nobleman's garden
discovered a closet, many yards within the house, in which conserves
were kept, which they constantly attended till the nest was
destroyed. Some in their rambles must have first discovered this
depôt of sweets, and informed the rest of it. It is remarkable that
they always went to it by the same track, scarcely varying an inch
from it, though they had to pass through two apartments; nor could
the sweeping and cleaning of the rooms discomfit them, or cause them
to pursue a different route[70].
Here may be related a very amusing experiment of Gould's. Having
deposited several colonies of ants (_F. fusca_) in flower-pots, he
placed them in some earthen pans full of water, which prevented then
from making excursions from their nest. When they had been accustomed
some days to this imprisonment, he fastened small threads to the
upper part of the pots, and extending them over the water pans fixed
them in the ground. The sagacious ants soon found out that by these
bridges they could escape from their moated castle. The discovery was
communicated to the whole society, and in a short time the threads
were filled with trains of busy workers passing to and fro[71].
Ligon's account of the ants in Barbadoes affords another most
convincing proof of this:--as he has told his tale in a very lively
and interesting manner, I shall give it nearly in his own words.
"The next of these moving little animals are ants or pismires; and
these are but of a small size, but great in industry; and that which
gives them means to attain to this end is, they have all one soul.
If I should say they are here or there, I should do them wrong,
for they are every where; under ground, where any hollow or loose
earth is; amongst the roots of trees; upon the bodies, branches,
leaves and fruit of all trees; in all places without the houses and
within; upon the sides, walls, windows, and roofs without; and on the
floors, side walls, ceilings, and windows within; tables, cupboards,
beds, stools, all are covered with them, so that they are a kind of
ubiquitaries.----We sometimes kill a cockroach, and throw him on the
ground; and mark what they will do with him: his body is bigger than
a hundred of them, and yet they will find the means to take hold of
him, and lift him up; and having him above ground, away they carry
him, and some go by as ready assistants, if any be weary; and some
are the officers that lead and show the way to the hole into which
he must pass; and if the vancouriers perceive that the body of the
cockroach lies across, and will not pass through the hole or arch
through which they mean to carry him, order is given, and the body
turned endwise, and this is done a foot before they come to the hole,
and that without any stop or stay; and this is observable, that they
never pull contrary ways.--A table being cleared with great care, by
way of experiment, of all the ants that were upon it, and some sugar
being put upon it, some, after a circuitous route, were observed to
arrive at it, when again departing without tasting the treasure, they
hastened away to inform their friends of their discovery, who upon
this came by myriads;--and when they are thickest upon the table,"
says he, "clap a large book (or any thing fit for that purpose) upon
them, so hard as to kill all that are under it; and when you have
done so, take away the book, and leave them to themselves but a
quarter of an hour, and when you come again, you shall find all those
bodies carried away. Other trials we make of their ingenuity, as
this:--Take a pewter dish, and fill it half full of water, into which
put a little gally-pot filled with sugar, and the ants will presently
find it and come upon the table; but when they perceive it environed
with water, they try about the brims of the dish where the gally-pot
is nearest; and there the most venturous amongst them commits himself
to the water, though he be conscious how ill a swimmer he is, and is
drowned in the adventure: the next is not warned by his example, but
ventures too, and is alike drowned; and many more, so that there is
a small foundation of their bodies to venture; and then they come
faster than ever, and so make a bridge of their own bodies[72]."
The fact being certain, that ants impart their ideas to each other,
we are next led to inquire by what means this is accomplished. It
does not appear that, like the bees, they emit any significative
sounds; their language, therefore, must consist of signs or gestures,
some of which I shall now detail. In communicating their fear or
expressing their anger, they run from one to another in a semicircle,
and strike with their head or jaws the trunk or abdomen of the ant
to which they mean to give information of any subject of alarm. But
those remarkable organs, their antennæ, are the principal instruments
of their speech, if I may so call it, supplying the place both of
voice and words. When the military ants before alluded to go upon
their expeditions, and are out of the formicary, previously to
setting off, they touch each other on the trunk with their antennæ
and forehead;--this is the signal for marching; for, as soon as any
one has received it, he is immediately in motion. When they have any
discovery to communicate, they strike with them those that they meet
in a particularly impressive manner.--If a hungry ant wants to be
fed, it touches with its two antennæ, moving them very rapidly, those
of the individual from which it expects its meal:--and not only ants
understand this language, but even Aphides and Cocci, which are the
milch kine of our little pismires, do the same, and will yield them
their saccharine fluid at the touch of these imperative organs. The
helpless larvæ also of the ants are informed by the same means when
they may open their mouths to receive their food.
Next to their language, and scarcely different from it, are the
modes by which they express their affections and aversions. Whether
ants, with man and some of the larger animals, experience any thing
like attachment to individuals, is not easily ascertained; but that
they feel the full force of the sentiment which we term patriotism,
or the love of the community to which they belong, is evident from
the whole series of their proceedings, which all tend to promote
the general good. Distress or difficulty falling upon any member of
their society, generally excites their sympathy, and they do their
utmost to relieve it. M. Latreille once cut off the antennæ of an
ant; and its companions, evidently pitying its sufferings, anointed
the wounded part with a drop of transparent fluid from their mouth:
and whoever attends to what is going forward in the neighbourhood of
one of their nests, will be pleased to observe the readiness with
which they seem disposed to assist each other in difficulties. When
a burthen is too heavy for one, another will soon come to ease it
of part of the weight; and if one is threatened with an attack, all
hasten to the spot, to join in repelling it.
The satisfaction they express at meeting after absence is very
striking, and gives some degree of individuality to their attachment.
M. Huber witnessed the gesticulations of some ants, originally
belonging to the same nest, that, having been entirely separated from
each other four months, were afterwards brought together. Though
this was equal to one-fourth of their existence as perfect insects,
they immediately recognised each other, saluted mutually with their
antennæ, and united once more to form one family.
They are also ever intent to promote each other's welfare, and ready
to share with their absent companions any good thing they may meet
with. Those that go abroad feed those which remain in the nest; and
if they discover any stock of favourite food, they inform the whole
community, as we have seen above, and teach them the way to it. M.
Huber, for a particular reason, having produced heat, by means of
a flambeau in a certain part of an artificial formicary, the ants
that happened to be in that quarter, after enjoying it for a time,
hastened to convey the welcome intelligence to their compatriots,
whom they even carried suspended upon their jaws (their usual mode
of transporting each other) to the spot, till hundreds might be seen
thus laden with their friends.
If ants feel the force of love, they are equally susceptible of the
emotions of anger; and when they are menaced or attacked, no insects
show a greater degree of it. Providence, moreover, has furnished
them with weapons and faculties which render it extremely formidable
to their insect enemies, and sometimes, as I have related on a
former occasion, a great annoyance to man himself[73]. Two strong
mandibles arm their mouth, with which they sometimes fix themselves
so obstinately to the object of their attack, that they will sooner
be torn limb from limb than let go their hold;--and after their
battles, the head of a conquered enemy may often be seen suspended
to the antennæ or legs of the victor,--a trophy of his valour,
which, however troublesome, he will be compelled to carry about
with him to the day of his death. Their abdomen is also furnished
with a poison-bag (_Ioterium_), in which is secreted a powerful and
venomous fluid, long celebrated in chemical researches, and once
called _formic acid_, though now considered a modification of the
_acetic_ and _malic_[74]; which, when their enemy is beyond the reach
of their mandibles (I speak here particularly of the hill-ant, or
_F. rufa_), standing erect on their hind-legs, they ejaculate from
their anus with considerable force, so that from the surface of the
nest ascends a shower of poison, exhaling a strong sulphureous odour,
sufficient to overpower or repel any insect or small animal. Such is
the fury of some species, that with the acid, according to Gould[75],
they sometimes partly eject, drawing it back however directly, the
poison-bag itself. If a stick be stuck into one of the nests of the
hill-ant, it is so saturated with the acid as to retain the scent for
many hours. A more formidable weapon arms the species of the genus
_Myrmica_, Latr.; for, besides the poison-bag, they are furnished
with a sting; and their aspect is also often rendered peculiarly
revolting, by the extraordinary length of their jaws, and by the
spines which defend their head and trunk.
But weapons without valour are of but little use; and this is
one distinguishing feature of our pygmy race. Their courage and
pertinacity are unconquerable, and often sublimed into the most
inconceivable rage and fury. It makes no difference to them whether
they attack a mite or an elephant; and man himself instills no terror
into their warlike breasts. Point your finger towards any individual
of _F. rufa_,--instead of running away, it instantly faces about,
and, that it may make the most of itself, stiffening its legs into a
nearly straight line, it gives its body the utmost elevation it is
capable of; and thus
"Collecting all its might dilated stands"
prepared to repel your attack. Put your finger a little nearer,
it immediately opens its jaws to bite you, and rearing upon its
hind-legs bends its abdomen between them, to ejaculate its venom into
the wound[76].
This angry people, so well armed and so courageous, we may readily
imagine are not always at peace with their neighbours; causes of
dissension may arise to light the flame of war between the inhabitants
of nests not far distant from each other. To these little bustling
creatures a square foot of earth is a territory worth contending
for;--their droves of Aphides equally valuable with the flocks and
herds that cover our plains; and the body of a fly or a beetle, or a
cargo of straws and bits of stick, an acquisition as important as the
treasures of a Lima fleet to our seamen. Their wars are usually between
nests of different species; sometimes, however, those of the same,
when so near as to interfere with and incommode each other, have their
battles; and with respect to ants of one species, _Myrmica rubra_,
combats occasionally take place, contrary to the general habits of the
tribe of ants, between those of the same nest. I shall give you some
account of all these conflicts, beginning with the last. But I must
first observe, that the only warriors amongst our ants are the neuters
or workers; the males and females being very peaceable creatures, and
always glad to get out of harm's way.
The wars of the red ant (_M. rubra_) are usually between a small number
of the citizens; and the object, according to Gould, is to get rid of
a useless member of the community (it does not argue much in favour
of the humanity of this species if it be by sickness that this member
is disabled), rather than any real civil contest. "The red colonies,"
says this author, "are the only ones I could ever observe to feed upon
their own species. You may frequently discern a party of from five or
six to twenty surrounding one of their own kind, or even fraternity,
and pulling it to pieces. The ant they attack is generally feeble, and
of a languid complexion, occasioned perhaps by some disorder or other
accident[77]." I once saw one of these ants dragged out of the nest
by another, without its head; it was still alive, and could crawl
about. A lively imagination might have fancied that this poor ant was
a criminal, condemned by a court of justice to suffer the extreme
sentence of the law. It was more probably, however, a champion that had
been decapitated in an unequal combat, unless we admit Gould's idea,
and suppose it to have suffered because it was an unprofitable member
of the community[78]. At another time I found three individuals that
were fighting with great fury, chained together by their mandibles; one
of these had lost two of the legs of one side, yet it appeared to walk
well, and was as eager to attack and seize its opponents, as if it was
unhurt. This did not look like languor or sickness.
The wars of ants that are not of the same species take place usually
between those that differ in size; and the great endeavouring to
oppress the small are nevertheless often outnumbered by them, and
defeated. Their battles have long been celebrated, and the date
of them, as if it were an event of the first importance, has been
formally recorded. Æneas Sylvius, after giving a very circumstantial
account of one contested with great obstinacy by a great and small
species on the trunk of a pear-tree, gravely states, "This action was
fought in the pontificate of Eugenius the Fourth, in the presence
of Nicholas Pistoriensis, an eminent lawyer, who related the
whole history of the battle with the greatest fidelity!" A similar
engagement between great and small ants is recorded by Olaus Magnus,
in which the small ones being victorious are said to have buried the
bodies of their own soldiers, but left those of their giant enemies a
prey to the birds. This event happened previous to the expulsion of
the tyrant Christiern the Second from Sweden[79].
M. P. Huber is the only modern author that appears to have been
witness to these combats. He tells us that, when the great attack the
small, they seek to take them by surprise, (probably to avoid their
fastening themselves to their legs,) and, seizing them by the upper
part of the body, they strangle them with their mandibles; but when
the small have time to foresee the attack, they give notice to their
companions, who rush in crowds to their succour. Sometimes, however,
after suffering a signal defeat, the smaller species are obliged to
shift their quarters, and to seek an establishment more out of the
way of danger. In order to cover their march, many small bodies are
then posted at a little distance from the nest. As soon as the large
ants approach the camp, the foremost sentinels instantly fly at
them with the greatest rage, a violent struggle ensues, multitudes
of their friends come to their assistance, and, though no match for
their enemies singly, by dint of numbers they prevail, and the giant
is either slain or led captive to the hostile camp. The species
whose proceedings M. Huber observed, were _F. herculanea_ and _F.
sanguinea_, neither of which have yet been discovered in Britain[80].
But if you would see more numerous armies engaged, and survey war
in all its forms, you must witness the combats of ants of the same
species, you must go into the woods where the hill-ant of Gould
(_F. rufa_) erects its habitations. There you will sometimes behold
populous and rival cities, like Rome and Carthage, as if they had
vowed each other's destruction, pouring forth their myriads by the
various roads that, like rays, diverge on all sides from their
respective metropolises, to decide by an appeal to arms the fate of
their little world. As the exploits of frogs and mice were the theme
of Homer's muse, so, were I gifted like him, might I celebrate on
this occasion the exhibition of Myrmidonian valour; but, alas! I am
Davus, not Œdipus; you must therefore rest contented, if I do my best
in plain prose; and I trust you will not complain if, being unable to
ascertain the name of any one of my heroes, my _Myrmidonomachia_ be
perfectly anonymous.
Figure to yourself two of these cities equal in size and population,
and situated about a hundred paces from each other; observe their
countless numbers, equal to the population of two mighty empires.
The whole space which separates them for the breadth of twenty-four
inches appears alive with prodigious crowds of their inhabitants. The
armies meet midway between their respective habitations, and there
join battle. Thousands of champions, mounted on more elevated spots,
engage in single combat, and seize each other with their powerful
jaws; a still greater number are engaged on both sides in taking
prisoners, which make vain efforts to escape, conscious of the cruel
fate which awaits them when arrived at the hostile formicary. The
spot where the battle most rages is about two or three square feet
in dimensions: a penetrating odour exhales on all sides,--numbers
of ants are here lying dead covered with venom,--others, composing
groups and chains, are hooked together by their legs or jaws, and
drag each other alternately in contrary directions. These groups are
formed gradually. At first a pair of combatants seize each other,
and rearing upon their hind-legs mutually spirt their acid, then
closing they fall and wrestle in the dust. Again recovering their
feet, each endeavours to drag off his antagonist. If their strength
be equal, they remain immoveable, till the arrival of a third gives
one the advantage. Both, however, are often succoured at the same
time, and the battle still continues undecided--others take part on
each side, till chains are formed of six, eight, or sometimes ten,
all hooked together and struggling pertinaciously for the mastery:
the equilibrium remains unbroken, till a number of champions from the
same nest arriving at once, compel them to let go their hold, and
the single combats recommence. At the approach of night, each party
gradually retreats to its own city: but before the following dawn the
combat is renewed with redoubled fury, and occupies a greater extent
of ground. These daily fights continue till, violent rains separating
the combatants, they forget their quarrel, and peace is restored.
Such is the account given by M. Huber of a battle he witnessed. In
these engagements, he observes, their fury is so wrought up, that
nothing can divert them from their purpose. Though he was close to
them examining their proceedings, they paid not the least attention
to him, being absorbed by one sole object, that of finding an enemy
to attack. What is most wonderful in this history, though all are of
the same make, colour, and scent, every ant seemed to know those of
his own party; and if by mistake one was attacked, it was immediately
discovered by the assailant, and caresses succeeded to blows. Though
all was fury and carnage in the space between the two nests, on
the other side the paths were full of ants going to and fro on the
ordinary business of the society, as in a time of peace; and the
whole formicary exhibited an appearance of order and tranquillity,
except that on the quarter leading to the field of battle crowds
might always be seen, either marching to reinforce the army of their
compatriots, or returning home with the prisoners they had taken[81],
which it is to be feared are the devoted victims of a cannibal feast.
Having, I apprehend, satiated you with the fury and carnage of
Myrmidonian wars, I shall next bring forward a scene still more
astonishing, which at first, perhaps, you will be disposed to regard
as the mere illusion of a lively imagination. What will you say when
I tell you that certain ants are affirmed to sally forth from their
nests on predatory expeditions, for the singular purpose of procuring
_slaves_ to employ in their domestic business; and that these ants
are usually a ruddy race, while their slaves themselves are black? I
think I see you here throw down my letter and exclaim--"What! ants
turned slave-dealers! This is a fact so extraordinary and improbable,
and so out of the usual course of nature, that nothing but the most
powerful and convincing evidence shall induce me to believe it." In
this I perfectly approve your caution; such a solecism in nature
ought not to be believed till it has undergone the ordeal of a most
thorough investigation. Unfortunately in this country we have not the
means of satisfying ourselves by ocular demonstration, since none of
the slave-dealing ants appear to be natives of Britain. We must be
satisfied, therefore, with weighing the evidence of others. Hear what
M. P. Huber, the discoverer of this almost incredible deviation of
nature from her general laws, has advanced to convince the world of
the accuracy of his statement, and you will, I am sure, allow that he
has thrown over his history a colouring of verisimilitude, and that
his appeal to testimony is in a very high degree satisfactory.
"My readers," says he, "will perhaps be tempted to believe that I have
suffered myself to be carried away by the love of the marvellous,
and that, in order to impart greater interest to my narration, I
have given way to an inclination to embellish the facts that I have
observed. But the more the wonders of nature have attractions for me,
the less do I feel inclined to alter them by a mixture of the reveries
of imagination. I have sought to divest myself of every illusion and
prejudice, of the ambition of saying new things, of the prepossessions
often attached to perceptions too rapid, the love of system, and the
like. And I have endeavoured to keep myself, if I may so say, in a
disposition of mind perfectly neuter, and ready to admit all facts, of
whatever nature they might be, that patient observation should confirm.
Amongst the persons whom I have taken as witnesses to the discovery of
mixed ant-hills, I can cite a distinguished philosopher (Prof. Jurine),
who was desirous of verifying their existence by examining himself the
two species united[82]."
He afterwards appeals to nature, and calls upon all who doubt to
repeat his experiments, which he is sure will soon satisfy them:--a
satisfaction which, as I have just observed, in this country we
cannot receive, for want of the slave-making species.--And now to
begin my history.