the attack of bees, probably of the same tribe with our hive-bee.
His people, in search of honey, disturbed a large colony of them.
The bees sallied forth by myriads, and attacking men and beasts
indiscriminately, put them all to the rout. One horse and six asses
were either killed or missing in consequence of their attack; and for
half an hour the bees seemed to have completely put an end to their
journey. Isaaco upon another occasion lost one of his asses, and one
of his men was almost killed by them[261].
Bees, however, if they are not molested, are not usually
ill-tempered: if you make a captive of their queen, they will cluster
upon your head, or any other part of your body, and never attempt to
sting you. I remember, when a boy, seeing the celebrated Wildman
exhibit many feats of this kind, to the great astonishment and
apprehension of the uninformed spectators. The writer lately quoted
(Thorley) was assisted once by his maidservant to hive a swarm. Being
rather afraid, she put a linen cloth as a defence over her head and
shoulders. When the bees were shaken from the tree on which they had
alighted, the queen probably settled upon this cloth; for the whole
swarm covered it, and then getting under it, spread themselves over
her face, neck, and bosom, so that when the cloth was removed she was
quite a spectacle. She was with great difficulty kept from running
off with all the bees upon her; but at length her master quieted her
fears, and began to search for the queen. He succeeded; and hoped
when he put her into the hive that the bees would follow; but they
only seemed to cluster more closely. Upon a second search he found
another queen, (unless the same had escaped and returned,) whom
seizing, he placed in the hive. The bees soon missed her, and crowded
after her into it: so that in the space of two or three minutes
not one was left upon the poor terrified girl. After this escape,
she became quite a heroine, and would undertake the most hazardous
employments about the hives[262].
Many means have been had recourse to for the dispersion of mobs and the
allaying of popular tumults. In St. Petersburgh (so travellers say)
a fire-engine playing upon them does not always cool their choler;
but were a few hives of bees thus employed, their discomfiture would
be certain. The experiment has been tried. Lesser tells us, that
in 1525, during the confusion occasioned by a time of war, a mob of
peasants assembling in Hohnstein (in Thuringia) attempted to pillage
the house of the minister of Elende; who having in vain employed all
his eloquence to dissuade them from their design, ordered his domestics
to fetch his bee-hives, and throw them in the middle of this furious
mob. The effect was what might be expected; they were immediately put
to flight, and happy if they escaped unstung[263].
The anger of bees is not confined to man; it is not seldom excited
against their own species. From what I have said above respecting the
black bees[264] and their fate, it seems not improbable that, when
the workers become too old to be useful to the community, they are
either killed, or expelled from the society. Reaumur, who observed
that the inhabitants of the same hive had often mortal combats, was
of opinion that this was their object in these battles[265], which
take place, he observes, in fine or warm weather. On these occasions
the bees are sometimes so eager, that examining them with a lens does
not part them:--their whole object is to pierce each other with their
sting, the stroke of which, if once it penetrates to the muscles,
is mortal. In these engagements the conqueror is not always able to
extricate this weapon, and then both perish. The duration of the
conflict is uncertain; sometimes it lasts an hour, and at others is
very soon determined: and occasionally it happens that both parties,
fatigued and despairing of victory, give up the contest and fly away.
But the wars of bees are not confined to single combats; general
actions now and then take place between two swarms. This happens when
one takes a fancy to a hive that another has pre-occupied. In fine warm
weather, strangers, that wish to be received amongst them, meet with
but an indifferent welcome, and a bloody battle is the consequence.
Reaumur witnessed one that lasted a whole afternoon, in which many
victims fell. In this case the battle is still between individuals, who
at one time decide the business within the hive, and at another at some
distance without. In the former case the victorious bee flies away,
bearing her victim under her body between her legs, sometimes taking a
longer and sometimes a shorter flight before she deposits it upon the
ground.--She then takes her repose near the dead body, standing upon
her four anterior legs, and rubbing the two hinder ones against each
other. If the battle is not concluded within the hive, the enemy is
carried to a little distance, and then dispatched.
This strange fury however does not always show itself on this
occasion; for now and then some friendly intercourse seems to take
place. Bees, from a hive in Mr. Knight's garden, visited those in
that of a cottager, a hundred yards distant, considerably later
than their usual time of labour, every bee as it arrived appearing
to be questioned. On the tenth morning, however, the intercourse
ceased, ending in a furious battle. On another occasion, an intimacy
took place between two hives of his own, at twice the distance,
which ceased on the fifth day. Sometimes he observed that this
communication terminated in the union of two swarms; as in one
instance, where a swarm had taken possession of a hollow tree[266],
it is probable that the reception of one swarm by another may depend
upon their numbers, and the fitness of their station to accommodate
them. Thorley witnessed a battle of more than two days continuance,
occasioned by a strange swarm forcing their way into a hive[267]. Two
swarms that rise at the same time sometimes fight till great numbers
have been destroyed, or one of the queens slain, when both sides
cease all their enmity and unite under the survivor[268].
These apiarian battles are often fought in defence of the property of
the hive. Bees that are ill managed, and not properly fed, instead
of collecting for themselves, will now and then get a habit of
pillaging from their more industrious neighbours: these are called by
Schirach _corsair_ bees, and by English writers, _robbers_. They make
their attack chiefly in the latter end of July, and during the month
of August. At first they act with caution, endeavouring to enter by
stealth; and then, emboldened by success, come in a body. If one of
the queens be killed, the attacked bees unite with the assailants,
take up their abode with them, and assist in plundering their late
habitation[269]. Schirach very gravely recommends it to apiarists
whose hives are attacked by these depredators, to give the bees
some honey mixed with brandy or wine, to increase and inflame their
courage, that they may more resolutely defend their property against
their piratical assailants[270]. It is however to be apprehended that
this method of making them pot-valiant might induce them to attack
their neighbours, as well as to defend themselves.
Sometimes combats take place in which three or four bees attack a
single individual, not with a design to kill, but merely to rob: one
seizes it by one leg, another by another; till perhaps there are
two on each side, each having hold of a leg, or they bite its head
or thorax. But as soon as the poor animal that is thus haled about
and maltreated unfolds its tongue, one of the assailants goes and
sucks it with its own, and is followed by the rest, who then let
it go. These insects, however, in their ordinary labours are very
kind and helpful to each other; I have often seen two, at the same
moment, visit the same flower, and very peaceably despoil it of its
treasures, without any contention for the best share.
As the poison of bees exhales a penetrating odour, M. Huber was
curious to observe the effect it might produce upon them. Having
extracted with pincers the sting of a bee and its appendages
impregnated with poison, he presented it to some workers, which
were settled very tranquilly before the gate of their mansion.
Instantaneously the little party was alarmed; none however took
flight, but two or three darted upon the poisoned instrument, and
one angrily attacked the observer. When however the poison was
coagulated, they were not in the least affected by it--A tube
impregnated with the odour of poison recently ejected being presented
to them, affected them in the same manner[271]. This circumstance may
sometimes occasion battles amongst them, that are not otherwise easy
to be accounted for.
Anger is no useless or hurtful passion in bees: it is necessary to
them for the preservation of themselves and their property, which,
besides those of their own species, are exposed to the ravages of
numerous enemies. Of these I have already enumerated several of the
class of insects, and also some beasts and birds that have a taste
for bees and their produce[272]. The _Merops Apiaster_ (which has
been taken in England), the lark and other birds catch them as they
fly. Even the frog and the toad are said to kill great numbers of
bees; and many that fall into the water probably become the prey of
fish. The mouse also, especially the field-mouse, in winter often
commits great ravages in a hive, if the base and orifices are not
well secured and stopped[273]. Thorley once lost a stock by mice,
which made a nest and produced young amongst the combs[274]. The
titmouse, according to the same author, will make a noise at the door
of the hive, and when a bee comes out to see what is the matter, will
seize and devour it. He has known them eat a dozen at a time. The
swallows will assemble round the hives and devour them like grains of
corn[275]. I need only mention spiders, in whose webs they sometimes
meet with their end, and earwigs and ants, which creep into the hive
and steal the honey[276].
Upon this subject of the enemies of bees, I cannot persuade myself
to omit the account Mr. White has given of an idiot-boy, who from a
child showed a strong propensity to bees. They were his food, his
amusement, his sole object. In the winter he dozed away his time
in his father's house, by the fire-side, in a torpid state, seldom
leaving the chimney-corner: but in summer he was all alert and in
quest of his game. Hive-bees, humble-bees, and wasps were his prey
wherever he found them. He had no apprehension from their stings, but
would seize them with naked hands, and at once disarm them of their
weapons, and suck their bodies for the sake of their honey-bags.
Sometimes he would fill his bosom between his shirt and skin with
these animals; and sometimes he endeavoured to confine them in
bottles. He was very injurious to men that kept bees; for he would
glide into their bee-gardens, and sitting down before the stools,
would rap with his fingers, and so take the bees as they came out. He
has even been known to overturn the hives for the sake of the honey,
of which he was passionately fond. Where metheglin was making, he
would linger round the tubs and vessels, begging a draught of what he
called _bee-wine_. As he ran about, he used to make a humming noise
with his lips resembling the buzzing of bees. This lad was lean and
sallow, and of a cadaverous complexion; and except in his favourite
pursuit, in which he was wonderfully adroit, discovered no manner of
understanding. Had his capacity been better, and directed to the same
object, he had perhaps abated much of our wonder at the feats of a
more modern exhibiter of bees; and we may justly say of him now,
"... Thou,
Had thy presiding star propitious shone,
Should'st Wildman be[277]."
The worker bees are annual insects, though the queen will sometimes
live more than two years; but, as every swarm consists of old and
young, this is no argument for burning them. It is a saying of
bee-keepers in Holland, that the first swallow and the first bee
foretell each other[278]. This perhaps may be correct there; but with
us the appearance of bees considerably precedes that of the swallow;
for when the early crocuses open, if the weather be warm, they may
always be found busy in the blossom.
The time that bees will inhabit the same stations is wonderful.
Reaumur mentions a countryman who preserved bees in the same hive for
thirty years[279]. Thorley tells us that a swarm took possession of a
spot under the leads of the study of Ludovicus Vives in Oxford, where
they continued a hundred and ten years, from 1520 to 1630[280]. These
circumstances have led authors to ascribe to bees a greater age
than they can claim. Thus Mouffet, because he knew a bees-nest which
had remained thirty years in the same quarters, concludes that they
are very long-lived, and very sapiently doubts whether they even die
of old age at all[281]!!! Which is just as wise as if a man should
contend, because London had existed from before the time of Julius
Cæsar, that therefore its inhabitants must be immortal.
Bees are subject to many accidents, particularly, as I have said
above, they often fall or are precipitated by the wind into water;
and though like the cat a bee has not nine lives, nor
"Nine times emerging from the crystal flood,
She mews to every watery god,"
yet she will bear submersion nine hours; and, if exposed to
sufficient heat, be reanimated. In this case their proboscis is
generally unfolded, and stretched to its full length. At the
extremity of this, motion is first perceived, and then at the ends of
the legs. After these symptoms appear they soon recover, fold up the
tongue, and plume themselves for flight[282]. Experimentalists may
therefore, without danger, submerge a hive of bees, when they want to
examine them particularly, for they will all revive upon being set to
the fire. Reaumur says that in winter, during frosts, the bees remain
in a torpid state. He must mean severe frosts; for Huber relates an
instance, when upon a sudden emergency, the bees of one of his hives
set themselves to work in the middle of January; and he observes that
they are so little torpid in winter, that even when the thermometer
abroad is below the freezing point, it stands high in populous
hives. Swammerdam, and after him the two authors last quoted, found
that sometimes, even in the middle of winter, hives have young brood
in them, which the bees feed and attend to[283]. In an instance of
this kind, which fell under the eye of Huber, the thermometer stood
in the hive at about 92°. In colder climates, however, the bees
will probably be less active in the winter. They are then generally
situated between the combs towards their lower part. But when the
air grows milder, especially if the rays of the sun fall upon the
hive and warm it, they awake from their lethargy, shake their wings,
and begin to move and recover their activity; with which their wants
returning, they then feed upon the stock of honey and bee-bread which
they have in reserve. The lowest cells are first uncovered, and their
contents consumed; the highest are reserved to the last. The honey
in the lowest cells being collected in the autumn, probably will not
keep so well as the vernal.
The degree of heat in a hive in winter, as I have just hinted, is
great. A thermometer near one, in the open air, that stood in January
at 6-3/4° below the freezing point, upon the insertion of the bulb
a little way into the hive, rose to 22-1/2° above it; and could it
have been placed between the combs, where the bees themselves were
agglomerated, the mercury, Reaumur conjectures, would have risen as
high as it does abroad in the warm days in summer[284]. Huber says
that it stands in frost at 86° and 88° in populous hives[285]. In
May, the former author found, in a hive in which he had lodged a small
swarm, that the thermometer indicated a degree of heat above that
of the hottest days of summer[286]. He observes that their motion,
and even the agitation of their wings, increases the heat of their
atmosphere. Often, when the squares of glass in a hive appeared cold
to the touch, if either by design or chance he happened to disturb the
bees, and the agglomerated mass in a tumult began to move different
ways, sending forth a great hum, in a very short time so considerable
an accession of heat was produced, that when he touched the same
squares of glass, he felt them as hot as if they had been held near a
fierce fire. By teasing the bees, the heat generated was sometimes so
great as to soften very much the wax of the combs, and even to cause
them to fall[287]. This generation of heat in bee-hives seems to be
one of those mysteries of nature that has not yet been satisfactorily
accounted for. Generally speaking, insects appear to have no animal
heat; the temperature of their bodies being usually that of the
atmosphere in which they happen to be. But bees are an exception to
this rule, and produce heat in themselves. Whether they are the only
insect that can do this, as John Hunter affirms, or whether others that
are gregarious, such as humble-bees, wasps, and ants, may not possess
the same faculty, seems not yet clearly ascertained. The heat in the
hive in the above instance was evidently occasioned by the tumult into
which the bees were put; and the hum, and motions that followed it,
were probably the result of their anger. But how these act physically,
in an animal that has no circulation, I am unable to say; and must
leave the question, like my predecessors, undecided.
* * * * *
And now having detailed to you thus amply the wonderful history
and proceedings of the social tribes of the insect world, you will
allow, I think, that I have redeemed my pledge, when I taught you
to expect that this history would exceed in interest and variety
and marvellous results every thing that I had before related to
you. I trust, moreover, that you will scarcely feel disposed to
subscribe to that opinion, though it has the sanction of some great
names, which attributes these almost miraculous instincts to mere
sensation; which tells us, that the sensorium of these insects is
so modelled with respect to the different operations that are given
them in charge, that it is by the attraction of pleasure alone that
they are determined to the execution of them; and that, as every
circumstance relative to the succession of their different labours
is pre-ordained, to each of them an agreeable sensation is affixed
by the Creator: and that thus, when the bees build their cells;
when they sedulously attend to the young brood, when they collect
provisions; this is the result of no plans, of no affection, of no
foresight; but that the sole determining motive is the enjoyment of
an agreeable sensation attached to each of these operations[288].
Surely it would be better to resolve all their proceedings at once
into a direct impulse from the Creator, than to maintain a theory so
contrary to fact; and which militates against the whole history which
M. Huber, who adopts this theory from Bonnet, has so ably given of
these creatures. That they may experience agreeable sensations from
their various employments, nobody will deny; but that such sensations
instruct them how to perform their several operations, without any
plan previously impressed upon their sensorium, is contrary both to
reason and experience. They have a plan, it is evident; and that
plan, which proves that it is not mere sensation, they vary according
to circumstances. As to affection--that bees are irritable, and
feel the passion of anger, no one will deny; that they are also
susceptible of fear, is equally evident: and if they feel anger
and fear, why may they not also feel _love_? Further, if they have
recourse to precautions for the prevention of any evil that seems to
threaten them, how can we refuse them a degree of _foresight_? Must
we also resolve all their patriotism, and the singular regard for
the welfare of their community, which seems constantly to actuate
them, and the sacrifices, even sometimes of themselves, that they
make to promote and ensure it, into individual self-love? We would
not set them up as rivals to man in intelligence, foresight, and the
affections; but they have that degree of each that is necessary for
their purposes. On account of the difficulties attending all theories
that give them some degree of these qualities, to resolve all into
mere sensation, is removing one difficulty by a greater.
That these creatures from mere selfishness build their combs,
replenish them with the fruit of their unwearied labours, attend
so assiduously to the nurture of the young brood, lavish their
caresses upon their queen, prevent all her wants, give a portion of
the honey they have collected to those that remain in the hives,
assist each other, defend their common dwelling, and are ready to
sacrifice themselves for the public good--is an anomaly _in rerum
natura_ that ought never to be admitted, unless established by
the most irrefragable demonstration;--and I think you will not be
disposed without full proof to yield yourself to a mere theory, so
contradictory of all the facts we know relative to this subject.
After all, there are mysteries, as to the _primum mobile_, amongst
these social tribes, that with all our boasted reason we cannot
fathom; nor develop satisfactorily the motives that urge them to
fulfill in so remarkable though diversified a way their different
destinies. One thing is clear to demonstration, that by these
creatures and their instincts, the power, wisdom and goodness of
the GREAT FATHER of the universe are loudly proclaimed; the atheist
and infidel confuted; the believer confirmed in his faith and trust
in Providence, which he thus beholds watching, with incessant care,
over the welfare of the meanest of his creatures; and from which
he may conclude that he, the prince of the creation, will never be
overlooked or forsaken: and from them what lessons may be learned
of patriotism and self-devotion to the public good; of loyalty; of
prudence, temperance, diligence, and self-denial.--But it is time at
length to put an end to this long disquisition.
I am, &c.
FOOTNOTES:
[199] Bonnet, x. 259.
[200] _Bibl. Nat._ i. 221. _b._ ed. Hill.
[201] Reaum. v. 503--.
[202] Huber, i. 24--.
[203] Ibid. 37--.
[204] Huber, i. 195.
[205] Huber, i. 199.
[206] VOL. I. 376-- and 487--.
[207] The following beautiful lines by Professor Smyth are extremely
applicable to this part of a bee's labours:
"Thou cheerful Bee! come, freely come,
And travel round my woodbine bower!
Delight me with thy wandering hum,
And rouse me from my musing hour;
Oh! try no more those tedious fields,
Come taste the sweets my garden yields:
The treasures of each blooming mine,
The bud, the blossom,--all are thine.
"And careless of this noon-tide heat,
I'll follow as thy ramble guides;
To watch thee pause and chafe thy feet,
And sweep them o'er thy downy sides:
Then in a flower's bell nestling lie,
And all thy envied ardor ply!
Then o'er the stem, tho' fair it grow,
With touch rejecting, glance, and go.
"O Nature kind! O labourer wise!
That roam'st along the summer's ray,
Glean'st every bliss thy life supplies,
And meet'st prepared thy wintry day!
Go, envied go--with crowded gates
The hive thy rich return awaits;
Bear home thy store, in triumph gay,
And shame each idler of the day."
[208] Reaum. v. _t._ xxviii. _f._ 1. 2.
[209] Ibid. _f._ 7. _o._
[210] Huber, ii. 5. _t._ ii. _f._ 8.
[211] Wildman, 43.
[212] VOL. I. 196.
[213] Huber, ii. 82.
[214] Abbé Boisier, quoted in Mills _On Bees_, 24.
[215] Schirach, 45. Huber, i. 179.
[216] Nicholson's _Journal_, xxiii. 287.
[217] VOL. I. 142.
[218] Xenoph. _Anabas_. l. iv. Plin. _Hist. Nat._ l. xxi. c. 13.
[219] Reaum. v. _t._ xxvi. _f._ 1.
[220] Reaum. 295.
[221] Kirby, _Monogr. Ap. Angl._ i. _t._ 12. * *. e. 1. _neut._ f.
19. _a. b._
[222] _Hist. Anim._ l. ix. c. 40.
[223] xlvi. 536.
[224] _ubi supra_, 301.
[225] VOL. I. 299.
[226] Reaum. v. 302.--comp. 433. I have seen bees out before it was
light.
[227] Huber observes that the honey for store is collected by the
wax-making bees only (_abeilles cirières_), and that the nurses
(_abeilles nourrices_) gather no more than what is wanted for
themselves and companions at work in the hive. ii. 66.
[228] Reaum. v. 448.
[229] Ibid. v. 418--.
[230] p. 38.
[231] _ubi supr._ 419.
[232] Compare Reaum. 420, and Huber, ii. 24, with Wildman, 40.