As another instance of these mixed actions in which both reason

and instinct seem concerned, but the former more decidedly, may be

cited the account which Huber gives of the manner in which the bees

of some of his neighbours protected themselves against the attacks

of the death's-head-moth (_Acherontia Atropos_), laid before you in

a former letter[806], by so closing the entrance of the hive with

walls, arcades, casements, and bastions, built of a mixture of wax

and propolis, that these insidious marauders could no longer intrude

themselves.

We can scarcely attribute these elaborate fortifications to reason

simply; for it appears that bees have recourse to a similar defensive

expedient when attacked even by other bees; and the means employed

seem too subtle and too well adapted to the end to be the result of

this faculty in a bee.

But on the other hand, if it be most probable that in this instance

instinct was chiefly concerned, if we impartially consider the

facts, it seems impossible to deny that reason had some share in

the operations. Pure instinct would have taught the bees to fortify

themselves on the _first_ attack. If the occupants of a hive had been

taken unawares by these gigantic aggressors one night, on the second,

at least, the entrance should have been barricadoed. But it appears

clear from the statement of Huber, that it was not until the hives

had been repeatedly attacked and robbed of nearly their whole stock

of honey, that the bees betook themselves to the plan so successfully

adopted for the security of their remaining treasures; so that

reason taught by experience, seems to have called into action their

dormant instinct[807].

If it be thus probable that reason has some influence upon the

actions of insects, which must be mainly regarded as instinctive, the

existence of this faculty is still more evident in numerous traits

of their history where instinct is little if at all concerned. An

insect is taught by its instincts the most unerring means to the

attainment of certain ends; but these ends, as I have already had

occasion more than once to remark, are limited in number, and such

only as are called for by its wants in a state of nature. We cannot

reasonably suppose insects to be gifted with instincts adapted for

occasions that are never likely to happen. If therefore we find them,

in these extraordinary and improbable emergencies, still availing

themselves of the means apparently best calculated for ensuring their

object;--and if in addition they seem in some cases to gain knowledge

by experience; if they can communicate information to each other; and

if they are endowed with memory;--it appears impossible to deny that

they are possessed of reason.--I shall now produce facts in proof of

each of these positions; not by any means all that might be adduced,

but a few of the most striking that occur to me.

* * * * *

First, then, insects often in cases not likely to be provided for by

instinct, adopt means evidently designed for effecting their object.

A certain degree of warmth is necessary to hatch a hen's eggs, and

we give her little credit for reason in sitting upon them for this

purpose. But if any one had ever seen a hen make her nest in a heap

of fermenting dung, among the bark of a hot-bed, or in the vicinity

of a baker's oven, where, the heat being as well adapted as the

stoves of the Egyptians to bring her chickens into life, she left off

the habit of her race, and saved herself the trouble of sitting upon

them,--we should certainly pronounce her a _reasoning_ hen: and if

this hen had chanced to be that very one figured and so elaborately

described by Professor Fischer, with _the profile of an old

woman_[808], a Hindoo metaphysician at least could not doubt of her

body, however hen-like, being in truth directed in its operations by

the soul of some quondam amateur of poultry-breeding. Now societies

of ants have more than once exhibited a deviation from their usual

instinct, which to me seems quite as extraordinary and as indicative

of reason as would be that supposed in a hen. A certain degree of

warmth is required for the exclusion and rearing of their eggs, larvæ

and pupæ; and in their ordinary abodes, as you have been already

told[809], they undergo great daily labour in removing their charge

to different parts of the nest, as its temperature is affected by the

presence or absence of the sun. But Reaumur, in refuting the common

notion of ants being injurious to bees, tells us that societies of

the former often saved themselves all this trouble, by establishing

their colonies between the exterior wooden shutters and panes of his

glass hives, where, owing to the latter substance being a tolerably

good conductor of heat, their progeny was at _all times_, and

without any necessity of changing their situation, in a constant,

equable, and sufficient temperature[810]. Bonnet observed the same

fact. He found that a society of ants had piled up their young to the

height of several inches, between the flannel-lined case of his glass

hives and the glass. When disturbed they ran away with them, but

always replaced them[811].

I am persuaded that after duly considering these facts, you will

agree with me that it is impossible consistently to refer them to

instinct, or to account for them without supposing some stray ant,

that had insinuated herself into this tropical crevice, first to

have been struck with the _thought_ of what a prodigious saving of

labour and anxiety would occur to her compatriots by establishing

their society here;--that she had communicated her _ideas_ to

them;--and that they had resolved upon an emigration to this

new-discovered country--this Madeira of ants--whose genial clime

presented advantages which no other situation could offer. Neither

instinct, nor any conceivable modification of instinct, could have

taught the ants to avail themselves of a good fortune which but for

the invention of glass hives would never have offered itself to a

generation of these insects since the creation; for there is nothing

analogous in nature to the constant and equable warmth of such a

situation, the heat of any accidental mass of fermenting materials

soon ceasing, and no heat being given out from a society of bees when

lodged in a hollow tree, their natural residence. The conclusion,

then, seems irresistible, that reason must have been their guide,

inducing a departure from their natural instinct as extraordinary as

would be that of a hen which should lay her eggs in a hot-bed, and

cease to sit upon them.

The adaptation of means to an end not likely to have been provided

for by instinct, is equally obvious in the ingenious mode by which a

nest of humble-bees propped up their tottering comb, the particulars

of which having before mentioned to you[812], I need not here repeat.

There is perhaps no surer criterion of reason than, after having tried

one mode of accomplishing a purpose, adopting another more likely to

succeed. Insects are able to stand this test. A bee which Huber watched

while soldering the angles of a cell with propolis, detached a thread

of this material with which she entered the cell. Instinct would have

taught her to separate it of the exact length required; but after

applying it to the angle of the cell, she found it too long, and cut

off a portion so as to fit it to her purpose[813].

This is a very simple instance; but one such fact is as decisive in

proof of reason as a thousand more complex, and of such there is no

lack. Dr. Darwin (whose authority in the present case depending not

on hearsay, but his own observation, may be here taken,) informs

us, that walking one day in his garden he perceived a wasp upon

the gravel walk with a large fly nearly as big as itself which it

had caught. Kneeling down he distinctly saw it cut off the head

and abdomen, and then taking up with its feet the trunk or middle

portion of the body to which the wings remained attached, fly away.

But a breeze of wind acting upon the wings of the fly turned round

the wasp with its burthen, and impeded its progress. Upon this it

alighted again on the gravel walk, deliberately sawed off first one

wing and then the other; and having thus removed the cause of its

embarrassment, flew off with its booty[814]. Could any process of

ratiocination be more perfect? "Something acts upon the wings of this

fly and impedes my flight. If I wish to reach my nest quickly, I must

get rid of them--to effect which, the shortest way will be to alight

again and cut them off." These reflections, or others of similar

import, must be supposed to have passed through the mind of the wasp,

or its actions are altogether inexplicable. Instinct might have

taught it to cut off the wings of _all_ flies, previously to flying

away with them. But here it first attempted to fly with the wings

on,--was impeded by a certain cause,--discovered what this cause

was,--and alighted to remove it. The chain of evidence seems perfect

in proof that nothing but reason could have been its prompter.

An analogous though less striking fact is mentioned by Reaumur on

the authority of M. Cossigny, who witnessed it in the Isle of France

where the _Sphecina_ are accustomed to bury the bodies of cockroaches

along with their eggs for provision for their young. He sometimes saw

an insect of this tribe attempt to drag after it into its hole a dead

cockroach, which was too big to be made to enter by all its efforts.

After several ineffectual trials the animal came out, cut off its

elytra and some of its legs, and thus reduced in compass drew in its

prey without difficulty[815].

Under this head I shall mention but one fact more.--A friend of

Gleditsch the observer of the singular economy of the burying beetle

(_Necrophorus Vespillo_) related in a former letter[816], being

desirous of drying a dead toad, fixed it to the top of a piece of

wood which he stuck into the ground. But a short time afterwards,

he found that a body of these indefatigable little sextons had

circumvented him in spite of his precautions. Not being able to reach

the toad, they had undermined the base of the stick until it fell,

and then buried both stick and toad[817].

* * * * *

In the second place, insects gain knowledge from _experience_, which

would be impossible if they were not gifted with some portion of

reason. In proof of their thus profiting, I shall select from the

numerous facts that might be brought forward, two only, one of which

has been already slightly adverted to[818].

M. P. Huber, in his valuable paper in the sixth volume of the

_Linnean Transactions_[819], states that he has seen large

humble-bees, when unable from the size of their head and thorax

to reach to the bottom of the long tubes of the flowers of beans,

go directly to the calyx, pierce it as well as the tube with the

exterior horny parts of their proboscis, and then insert their

proboscis itself into the orifice and abstract the honey. They

thus flew from flower to flower, piercing the tubes from without,

and sucking the nectar, while smaller humble-bees or those with a

longer proboscis entered in at the top of the corolla. Now from this

statement it seems evident, that the larger bees did not pierce the

bottoms of the flowers until they had ascertained by trial that

they could not reach the nectar from the top; but that having once

ascertained by experience that the flowers of beans are too strait

to admit them, they then, without further attempts in the ordinary

way, pierced the bottoms of _all_ the flowers which they wished to

rifle of their sweets.--M. Aubert du Petit-Thouars observed that

humble-bees and the carpenter-bee (_Xylocopa_[820] _violacea_) gained

access in a similar manner to the nectar of _Antirrhinum Linaria_ and

_majus_, and _Mirabilis Jalappa_; as do the common bees of the Isle

of France to that of _Canna indica_[821]; and I have myself more than

once noticed holes at the base of the long nectaries of _Aquilegia

vulgaris_, which I attribute to the same agency.

My second fact is supplied by the same ants, whose sagacious choice

of the vicinity of Reaumur's glass hives for their colony has been

just related to you. He tells us that of these ants, of which

there were such swarms on the outside of the hive, not a single

one was ever perceived within; and infers that, as they are such

lovers of honey, and there was no difficulty in finding crevices

to enter in at, they were kept without, solely from fear of the

consequences[822]. Whence arose this fear? We have no ground for

supposing ants endowed with any instinctive dread of bees; and

Reaumur tells us, that when he happened to leave in his garden, hives

of which the bees had died, the ants then never failed to enter them

and regale themselves with the honey. It seems reasonable, therefore,

to attribute it to experience. Some of the ants no doubt had tried to

enter the peopled as they did the empty hive, but had been punished

for their presumption, and the dear-bought lesson was not lost on

the rest of the community.

* * * * *

Insects, in the third place, are able mutually to _communicate_ and

_receive information_, which, in whatever way effected, would be

impracticable if they were devoid of reason. Under this head it is

only necessary to refer you to the endless facts in proof, furnished

by almost every page of my letters on the history of ants and of

the hive-bee. I shall therefore but detain you for a moment with an

additional anecdote or two, especially with one respecting the former

tribe, which is valuable from the celebrity of the relater.

Dr. Franklin was of opinion that ants could communicate their ideas

to each other; in proof of which he related to Kalm, the Swedish

traveller, the following fact. Having placed a pot containing treacle

in a closet infested with ants, these insects found their way into

it, and were feasting very heartily when he discovered them. He then

shook them out and suspended the pot by a string from the ceiling.

By chance one ant remained, which, after eating its fill, with some

difficulty found its way up the string, and thence reaching the

ceiling, escaped by the wall to its nest. In less than half an hour a

great company of ants sallied out of their hole, climbed the ceiling,

crept along the string into the pot, and began to eat again. This

they continued until the treacle was all consumed, one swarm running

up the string while another passed down[823]. It seems indisputable

that the one ant had in this instance conveyed news of the booty to

his comrades, who would not otherwise have at once directed their

steps in a body to the only accessible route.

A German artist, a man of strict veracity, states that in his journey

through Italy he was an eye-witness to the following occurrence.

He observed a species of Scarabæus (_Ateuchis pilularius?_) busily

engaged in making, for the reception of its egg, a pellet of dung,

which when finished it rolled to the summit of a small hillock, and

repeatedly suffered to tumble down its side, apparently for the sake

of consolidating it by the earth which each time adhered to it. During

this process the pellet unluckily fell into an adjoining hole, out of

which all the efforts of the beetle to extricate it were in vain. After

several ineffectual trials, the insect repaired to an adjoining heap

of dung, and soon returned with three of his companions. All four now

applied their united strength to the pellet, and at length succeeded in

pushing it out; which being done, the three assistant beetles left the

spot and returned to their own quarters[824].

* * * * *

Lastly, insects are endowed with _memory_, which (at least in

connexion with the purposes to which it is subservient) implies some

degree of reason also; and their historian may exclaim with the poet

who has so well sung the pleasures of this faculty,

Hail, MEMORY, hail! thy universal reign

Guards the least link of Being's glorious chain.

In the elegant lines in which this couplet occurs[825], which were

pointed out to me by my friend Dr. Alderson of Hull, Mr. Rogers

supposes the bee to be conducted to its hive by retracing the scents

of the various flowers which it has visited: but this idea is more

poetical than accurate, bees, as before observed[826], flying

straight to their hives from great distances. Here, as I have more

than once had occasion to remark in similar instances, we have to

regret the want of more correct entomological information in the

poet, who might have employed with as much effect, the real fact of

bees distinguishing their own hives out of numbers near them, when

conducted to the spot by instinct. This recognition of home seems

clearly the result of memory; and it is remarkable that bees appear

to recollect their own hive rather from its situation, than from any

observations on the hive itself[827]: just as a man is guided to his

house from his memory of its position relative to other buildings or

objects, without its being necessary for him even to cast a look at

it. If, after quitting my house in a morning, it were to be lifted

out of its site in the street by enchantment, and replaced by another

with a similar entrance, I should probably, even in the day time,

enter it, without being struck by the change; and bees, if during

their absence their old hive be taken away, and a similar one set in

its place, enter this last, and if it be provided with brood comb

contentedly take up their abode in it, never troubling themselves to

inquire what has become of the identical habitation which they left

in the morning, and with the inhabitants of which, if it be removed

to fifty paces distance, they never resume their connexion[828].

If, pursuing my illustration, you should object that no man would

thus contentedly sit down in a new house without searching after the

old one, you must bear in mind that I am not aiming to show that bees

have as precise a memory as ours, but only that they are endowed

with some portion of this faculty, which I think the above fact

proves. Should you view it in a different light, you will not deny

the force of others that have already been stated in the course of

our correspondence: such as the mutual greetings of ants of the same

society when brought together after a separation of four months[829];

and the return of a party of bees in spring to a window where in

the preceding autumn they had regaled on honey, though none of this

substance had been again placed there[830].

But the most striking fact evincing the memory of these last-mentioned

insects has been communicated to me by my intelligent friend Mr.

William 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.

Had Dr. Darwin been acquainted with this fact, he would have adduced

it as proving that insects can convey traditionary information from

one generation to another; and at the first glance the circumstance

of the descendants of the same stock retaining a knowledge of the

same fact for twenty years, during which period there must have been

as many generations of bees, would seem to warrant the inference.

But as it is more probable that the party of surveying scouts of

the first generation was the next year accompanied by others of a

second, who in like manner conducted their brethren of the third, and

these last again others of the fourth generation, and so on,--I draw

no other conclusion from it than that bees are endowed with memory,

which I think it proves most satisfactorily.

I am, &c.

FOOTNOTES:

[760] _Hist. Nat._ Edit. 1785, v. 277.

[761] _Beiträge zur innern Naturgeschichte der Erde_ 1801. p. 298.

[762] In his _Philosophie Zoologique_, Paris 1809 (ii. 325)--a work

which every zoologist will, I think, join with me in regretting

should be devoted to metaphysical disquisitions built on the

most gratuitous assumptions, instead of comprising that luminous

generalization of _facts_ relative to the animal world which is so

great a desideratum, and for performing which satisfactorily this

eminent naturalist is so well qualified.

[763] Dr. Zinken genannt Sommer says, that if in August and September a

snuff-box be left open, it will be seen to be frequented by the common

house-fly (_Musca domestica_), the eggs of which will be found to have

been deposited amongst the snuff. Germar _Mag. der Ent._ I. ii. 189.

[764] Sturm, _Deutschlands Fauna_, i. 27.

[765] _Œuvres_ ii. 238. See above, p. 256.

[766] _Apis._ * *. e. 2. K.

[767] _Linn. Trans._ vi. 254--.

[768] Lyonet, _Traité anatomique_ &c. 16--.

[769] VOL. I. 455--.

[770] Reaum. iii. 112-119.

[771] VOL. I. 172.

[772] _Œuvres_, ix. 370.

[773] Huber, ii. 134--.

[774] Ibid. ii. 216.

[775] Huber, i. 348.

[776] Ibid. ii. 227.

[777] Ibid. i. 119.

[778] Huber, i. 233.

[779] Ibid. ii. 239.

[780] Ibid. ii. 240.

[781] Huber, ii. 280.

[782] Ibid. ii. 284, note *.

[783] Huber, ii. 228.

[784] Huber, ii. 221-226. 244-247.

[785] Ibid. ii. 226.

[786] Huber, ii. 230.

[787] Huber, ii. 219--.

[788] _Œuvres_, ix. 159.

[789] VOL. I. 487--.

[790] See above, p. 186.

[791] Huber, ii. 102.

[792] Ibid. i. 186. ii. 412.

[793] Ibid. ii. 264--. VOL. I. 497.

[794] Huber, ii. 274.

[795] Huber, ii. 275--.

[796] See above, p. 179.

[797] Huber, i. 356.

[798] Ibid. ii. 367.

[799] The following striking anecdote of this last species of instinct

in an animal not famed for sagacity, was related to me by Lieutenant

Alderson, (royal engineers,) who was personally acquainted with the

facts.--In March 1816 an ass, the property of Captain Dundas, R.N.,

then at Malta, was shipped on board the Ister frigate, Captain Forrest,

bound from Gibraltar for that island. The vessel having struck on some

sands off the Point de Gat, at some distance from the shore, the ass

was thrown overboard to give it a chance of swimming to land--a poor

one, for the sea was running so high that a boat which left the ship

was lost. A few days afterwards, however, when the gates of Gibraltar

were opened in the morning, the ass presented himself for admittance,

and proceeded to the stable of Mr. Weeks, a merchant, which he had

formerly occupied, to the no small surprise of this gentleman, who

imagined that from some accident the animal had never been shipped on

board the Ister. On the return of this vessel to repair, the mystery

was explained; and it turned out that Valiante (so the ass was called)

had not only swam safely to shore, but, without guide, compass, or

travelling map, had found his way from Point de Gat to Gibraltar, a

distance of more than two hundred miles, which he had never traversed

before, through a mountainous and intricate country, intersected by

streams, and in so short a period that he could not have made one false

turn. His not having been stopped on the road was attributed to the

circumstance of his having been formerly used to whip criminals upon,

which was indicated to the peasants, who have a superstitious horror of

such asses, by the holes in his ears, to which the persons flogged were

tied.

[800] Huber, ii. 64.

[801] Ibid. ii. 138.

[802] See above, p. 171--.

[803] See above, p. 127--.

[804] Huber, ii. 219.

[805] Hume's _Essay on the Reason of Animals_.

[806] See above, p. 263--.

[807] Huber, ii. 289--.

[808] See Fischer's _Beschreibung eines Huhns mit menschenähnlichem

Profile_, 8vo, St. Petersburg 1816, and a translation in Thomson's

_Annals of Phil._ viii. 241.

[809] VOL. I. 366.

[810] Reaum. v. 709.

[811] _Œuvres_, ii. 416.

[812] VOL. I. 380.

[813] Huber, ii. 268.

[814] _Zoonomia_, i. 183.

[815] Reaum. vi. 283.

[816] VOL. I. 352.

[817] Gleditsch _Physic. Bot. Œcon. Abhandl._ iii. 220.

[818] See above, p. 117.

[819] p. 222.

[820] _Apis_ * *. d. 2. β. K.

[821] _Nouveau Bulletin des Sciences_, i. 45.

[822] Reaum. v. 709.

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