Part 15

M. Huber the younger shrewdly remarks, that the tendency to symmetry observable in the architecture of bees does not hold so much in small details as in the whole work, because they are sometimes obliged to adapt themselves to particular localities. One irregularity leads on to another, and it commonly arises from mere accident, or from design on the part of the proprietor of the bees. By allowing, for instance, too little interval between the spars for receiving the foundation of the combs, the structure has been continued in a particular direction. The bees did not at first appear to be sensible of the defect, though they afterwards began to suspect their error, and were then observed to change their line of work till they gained the customary distance. The cells having been by this change of direction in some degree curved, the new ones which were commenced on each side of it, by being built everywhere parallel to it, partook of the same curvature. But the bees did not relish such approaches to the "line of beauty," and exerted themselves to bring their buildings again into the regular form.

In consequence of several irregularities which they wished to correct, the younger Huber has seen bees depart from their usual practice, and at once lay on a spar two foundation-walls not in the same line. They could consequently neither be enlarged without obstructing both, nor from their position could the edges unite, had they been prolonged. The little architects, however, had recourse to a very ingenious contrivance: they curved the edges of the two combs, and brought them to unite so neatly that they could be both prolonged in the same line with ease; and when carried to some little distance, their surface became quite uniform and level.

"Having seen bees," says the elder Huber, "work both up and down, I wished to try to investigate whether we could compel them to construct their combs in any other direction. We endeavoured to puzzle them with a hive glazed above and below, so that they had no place of support but the upright sides of their dwelling; but, betaking themselves to the upper angle, they built combs perpendicular to one of these sides, and as regularly as those which they usually build under a horizontal surface. The foundations were laid on a place which does not serve naturally for the base, yet, except in the difference of direction, the first row of cells resembled those in ordinary hives, the others being distributed on both faces, while the bottoms alternately corresponded with the same symmetry. I put the bees to a still greater trial. As they now testified their inclination to carry their combs, by the shortest way, to the opposite side of the hive (for they prefer uniting them to wood, or a surface rougher than glass), I covered it with a pane. Whenever this smooth and slippery substance was interposed between them and the wood, they departed from the straight line hitherto followed, and bent the structure of their comb at a right angle to what was already made, so that the prolongation of the extremity might reach another side of the hive, which had been left free.

"Varying this experiment in several ways, I saw the bees constantly change the direction of their combs, when I presented to them a surface too smooth to admit of their clustering on it. They always sought the wooden sides. I thus compelled them to curve the combs in the strangest shapes, by placing a pane at a certain distance from their edges. These results indicate a degree of instinct truly wonderful. They denote even more than instinct: for glass is not a substance against which bees can be warned by nature. In trees, their natural abode, there is nothing that resembles it, or with the same polish. The most singular part of their proceeding is changing the direction of the work before arriving at the surface of the glass, and while yet at a distance suitable for doing so. Do they anticipate the inconvenience which would attend any other mode of building? No less curious is the plan adopted by the bee for producing an angle in the combs: the wonted fashion of their work, and the dimensions of the cells, must be altered. Therefore, the cells on the upper or convex side of the combs are enlarged; they are constructed of three or four times the width of those on the opposite surface. How can so many insects, occupied at once on the edges of the combs, concur in giving them a common curvature from one extremity to the other? How do they resolve on establishing cells so small on one side, while dimensions so enlarged are bestowed on those of the other? And is it not still more singular, that they have the art of making a correspondence between cells of such reciprocal discrepance? The bottom being common to both, the tubes alone assume a taper form. Perhaps no other insect has afforded a more decisive proof of the resources of instinct, when compelled to deviate from the ordinary course.

"But let us study them in their natural state, and there we shall find that the diameter of their cells must be adapted to the individuals which shall be bred in them. The cells of males have the same figure, the same number of lozenges and sides, as those of workers, and angles of the same size. Their diameter is 3-1/3 lines, while those of workers are only 2-2/5.

"It is rarely that the cells of males occupy the higher part of the combs. They are generally in the middle or on the sides, where they are not isolated. The manner in which they are surrounded by other cells alone can explain how the transition in size is effected. When the cells of males are to be fabricated under those of workers, the bees make several rows of intermediate cells, whose diameter augments progressively, until gaining that proportion proper to the cells required; and in returning to those of workers, a lowering is observed in a manner corresponding.

"Bees, in preparing the cells of males, previously establish a block or lump of wax on the edge of their comb, thicker than is usually employed for those of workers. It is also made higher, otherwise the same order and symmetry could not be preserved on a larger scale.

"Several naturalists notice the irregularities in the cells of bees as so many defects. What would have been their astonishment had they observed that part of them are the result of calculation? Had they followed the imperfection of their organs, some other means of compensating them would have been granted to the insects. It is much more surprising that they know how to quit the ordinary route, when circumstances demand the construction of enlarged cells; and, after building thirty or forty rows of them, to return to the proper proportions from which they have departed by successive reductions. Bees also augment the dimensions of their cells when there is an opportunity for a great collection of honey. Not only are they then constructed of a diameter much exceeding that of the common cells, but they are elongated throughout the whole space admitting it. A great portion of irregular comb contains cells an inch, or even an inch and a half, in depth.

"Bees, on the contrary, sometimes are induced to shorten their cells. When wishing to prolong an old comb, whose cells have received their full dimensions, they gradually reduce the thickness of its edges, by gnawing down the sides of the cells, until they restore it to its original lenticular form. They add a waxen block around the whole circumference, and on the edge of the comb construct pyramidal bottoms, such as those fabricated on ordinary occasions. It is a certain fact, that a comb never is extended in any direction unless the bees have thinned the edges, which are diminished throughout a sufficient space to remove any angular projection.

"The law which obliges these insects partly to demolish the cells on the edges of the comb before enlarging it, unquestionably demands more profound investigation. How can we account for instinct leading them to undo what they have executed with the utmost care? The wonted regular gradation which may be necessary for new cells, subsists among those adjoining the edges of a comb recently constructed. But afterwards, when those on the edge are deepened like the cells of the rest of the surface, the bees no longer preserve the decreasing gradation which is seen in the new combs."

The Finishing of the Cells.

While the cells are building they appear to be of a dull white colour, soft, even, though not smooth, and translucent; but in a few days they become tinged with yellow, particularly on the interior surface; and their edges, from being thin, uniform, and yielding, become thicker, less regular, more heavy, and so firm that they will bend rather than break. New combs break on the slightest touch. There is also a glutinous substance observable around the orifices of the yellow cells, of reddish colour, unctuous, and odoriferous. Threads of the same substance are applied all around the interior of the cells, and at the summit of their angles, as if it were for the purpose of binding and strengthening the walls. These yellow cells also require a much higher temperature of water to melt them than the white ones.

It appeared evident, therefore, that another substance, different from wax, had been employed in varnishing the orifices, and strengthening the interior of the cells. M. Huber, by numerous experiments, ascertained the resinous threads lining the cells, as well as the resinous substance around their orifice, to be propolis; for he traced them, as we mentioned in our account of propolis, from the poplar buds where they collected it, and saw them apply it to the cells; but the yellow colour is not imparted by propolis, to which it bears no analogy. We are, indeed, by no means certain what it is, though it was proved by experiment not to arise from the heat of the hives, nor from emanations of honey, nor from particles of pollen. Perhaps it may be ascribed to the bees rubbing their teeth, feet, and other parts of their body, on the surfaces where they seem to rest; or to their tongue (haustellum) sweeping from right to left like a fine pliant pencil, when it appears to leave some sprinkling of a transparent liquid.

Besides painting and varnishing their cells in this manner, they take care to strengthen the weaker part of their edifice by means of a mortar composed of propolis and wax, and named pissoceros by the ancients who first observed it, though Réaumur was somewhat doubtful respecting the existence of such a composition. We are indebted to the shrewd observations of Huber for a reconcilement of the Roman and the French naturalists. The details which he has given of his discovery are perhaps the most interesting in his delightful book.

"Soon," he says, "after some new combs had been finished in a hive, manifest disorder and agitation prevailed among the bees. They seemed to attack their own works. The primitive cells, whose structure we had admired, were scarcely recognizable. Thick and massive walls, heavy, shapeless pillars, were substituted for the slight partitions previously built with such regularity. The substance had changed along with the form, being composed apparently of wax and propolis. From the perseverance of the workers in their devastation, we suspected that they proposed some useful alteration of their edifices; and our attention was directed to the cells least injured. Several were yet untouched; but the bees soon rushed precipitately on them, destroyed the tubes, broke down the wax, and threw all the fragments about. But we remarked that the bottom of the cells of the first row were spared; neither were the corresponding parts on both faces of the comb demolished at the same time. The bees laboured at them alternately, leaving some of the natural supports, otherwise the comb would have fallen down, which was not their object: they wished, on the contrary, to provide it a more solid base, and to secure its union to the vault of the hive, with a substance whose adhesive properties infinitely surpassed those of wax. The propolis employed on this occasion had been deposited in a mass over a cleft of the hive, and had hardened in drying, which probably rendered it more suitable for the purpose. But the bees experienced some difficulty in making any impression on it; and we thought, as also had appeared to M. de Réaumur, that they softened it with the same frothy matter from the tongue which they use to render wax more ductile.

"We very distinctly observed the bees mixing fragments of old wax with the propolis, kneading the two substances together to incorporate them; and the compound was employed in rebuilding the cells that had been destroyed. But they did not now follow their ordinary rules of architecture, for they were occupied by the solidity of their edifices alone. Night intervening, suspended our observations, but next morning confirmed what we had seen.

"We find, therefore, that there is an epoch in the labour of bees, when the upper foundation of their combs is constructed simply of wax, as Réaumur believed; and that, after all the requisite conditions have been attained, it is converted to a mixture of wax and propolis, as remarked by Pliny so many ages before us. Thus is the apparent contradiction between these two great naturalists explained. But this is not the utmost extent of the foresight of these insects. When they have plenty of wax, they make their combs the full breadth of the hive, and solder them to the glass or wooden sides, by structures more or less approaching the form of cells, as circumstances admit. But should the supply of wax fail before they have been able to give sufficient diameter to the combs whose edges are rounded, large intervals remain between them and the upright sides of the hive, and they are fixed only at the top. Therefore, did not the bees provide against it, by constructing great pieces of wax mixed with propolis, in the intervals, they might be borne down by the weight of the honey. These pieces are of irregular shape, strangely hollowed out, and their cavities void of symmetry."

It is remarked by the lively Abbé la Pluche, that the foundations of our houses sink with the earth on which they are built, the walls begin to stoop by degrees, they nod with age, and bend from their perpendicular;--lodgers damage everything, and time is continually introducing some new decay. The mansions of the bees, on the contrary, grow stronger the oftener they change inhabitants. Every bee-grub, before its metamorphosis into a nymph, fastens its skin to the partitions of its cell, but in such a manner as to make it correspond with the lines of the angle, and without in the least disturbing the regularity of the figure. During summer, accordingly, the same lodging may serve for three or four grubs in succession; and in the ensuing season it may accommodate an equal number. Each grub never fails to fortify the panels of its chamber by arraying them with its spoils, and the contiguous cells receive a similar augmentation from its brethren. Réaumur found as many as seven or eight of these skins spread over one another: so that all the cells being incrusted with six or seven coverings, well dried and cemented with propolis, the whole fabric daily acquires a new degree of solidity.

It is obvious, however, that by a repetition of this process the cell might be rendered too contracted; but in such a case the bees know well how to proceed, by turning the cells to other uses, such as magazines for bee-bread and honey. It has been remarked, however, that in the hive of a new swarm, during the months of July and August, there are fewer small bees or nurse-bees than in one that has been tenanted four or five years. The workers, indeed, clean out the cell the moment that a young bee leaves its cocoon, but they never detach the silky film which it has previously spun on the walls of its cell. But though honey is deposited after the young leave the cells, the reverse also happens; and accordingly, when bees are bred in contracted cells, they are by necessity smaller, and constitute, in fact, the important class of nurse-bees.

We are not disposed, however, to go quite so far as an American periodical writer, who says, "Thus we see that the contraction of the cell may diminish the size of a bee, even to the extinction of life, just as the contraction of a Chinese shoe reduces the foot even to uselessness." We know, on the contrary, that the queen-bee will not deposit eggs in a cell either too small or too large for the proper rearing of the young. In the case of large cells, M. Huber took advantage of a queen that was busy depositing the eggs of workers to remove all the common cells adapted for their reception, and left only the larger cells appropriated for males. As this was done in June, when bees are most active, he expected that they would have immediately repaired the breaches he had made; but to his great surprise they did not make the slightest movement for that purpose. In the meanwhile the queen, being oppressed by her eggs, was obliged to drop them about at random, preferring this to depositing them in the male cells, which she knew to be too large. At length she did deposit six eggs in the large cells, which were hatched as usual three days after. The nurse-bees, however, seemed to be aware that they could not be reared there, and though they supplied them with food, did not attend to them regularly. M. Huber found that they had been all removed from the cells during the night, and the business both of laying and nursing was at a complete stand for twelve days, when he supplied them again with a comb of small cells, which the queen almost immediately filled with eggs, and in some cells she laid five or six.

* * * * *

The architecture of the hive, which we have thus detailed, is that of bees receiving the aid of human care, and having external coverings of a convenient form, prepared for their reception. In this country bees are not found in a wild state; though it is not uncommon for swarms to stray from their proprietors. But these stray swarms do not spread colonies through our woods, as they are said to do in America. In the remoter parts of that continent there are no wild bees. They precede civilization; and thus when the Indians observe a swarm they say, "The white man is coming." There is evidence of bees having abounded in these islands, in the earlier periods of our history; and Ireland is particularly mentioned by the Venerable Bede as being "rich in milk and honey." The hive-bee has formed an object of economical culture in Europe at least for two thousand years; and Varro describes the sort of hives used in his time, 1870 years ago. We are not aware, however, that it is now to be found wild in the milder clime of Southern Europe, any more than it is in our own island.

The wild bees of Palestine principally hived in rocks. "He made him," says Moses, "to suck honey out of the rock." "With honey out of the rock," says the Psalmist, "should I have satisfied thee." In the caves of Salsette and Elephanta, at the present day, they hive in the clefts of the rocks, and the recesses among the fissures, in such numbers as to become very troublesome to visitors. Their nests hang in innumerable clusters.

We are told of a little black stingless bee found in the island of Guadaloupe, which hives in hollow trees or in the cavities of rocks by the sea-side, and lays "up honey in cells about the size and shape of pigeons' eggs. These cells are of a black or deep-violet colour, and so joined together as to leave no space between them. They hang in clusters almost like a bunch of grapes." The following are mentioned by Lindley as indigenous to Brazil. "On an excursion towards Upper Tapagippe," says he, "and skirting the dreary woods which extend to the interior, I observed the trees more loaded with bees' nests than even in the neighbourhood of Porto Seguro. They consist of a ponderous shell of clay, cemented similarly to martins' nests, swelling from high trees about a foot thick, and forming an oval mass full two feet in diameter. When broken, the wax is arranged as in our hives, and the honey abundant."

Captain Basil Hall found in South America the hive of a honey-bee very different from the Brazilian, but nearly allied to, if not the same as, that of Guadaloupe. "The hive we saw opened," he says, "was only partly filled, which enabled us to see the economy of the interior to more advantage. The honey is not contained in the elegant hexagonal cells of our hives, but in wax bags, not quite so large as an egg. These bags or bladders are hung round the sides of the hive, and appear about half full; the quantity being probably just as great as the strength of the wax will bear without tearing. Those near the bottom, being better supported, are more filled than the upper ones. In the centre of the lower part of the hive we observed an irregularly-shaped mass of comb, furnished with cells like those of our bees, all containing young ones in such an advanced state, that, when we broke the comb, and let them out, they flew merrily away."

Clavigero, in his 'History of Mexico,' evidently describing the same species of bee, says it abounds in Yucatan, and makes the honey of Estabentum, the finest in the world, and which is taken every two months. He mentioned another species of bee, smaller in size, and also without a sting, which forms its nest of the shape of a sugar-loaf, and as large or larger. These are suspended from trees, particularly from the oak, and are much more populous than our common hives.

Wild honey-bees of some species appear also to abound in Africa. Mr. Park, in his second volume of travels, tells us that some of his associates imprudently attempted to rob a numerous hive of its honey, when the exasperated bees, rushing out to defend their property, attacked their assailants with great fury, and quickly compelled the whole company to fly.

At the Cape of Good Hope the bees themselves must be less formidable, or more easily managed, as their hives are sought for with avidity. Nature has there provided man with a singular and very efficient assistant in a bird, most appropriately named the honey-guide (Indicator major, Veillot; Cuculus indicator, Latham). The honey-guide, it is said, so far from being alarmed at the presence of man, appears anxious to court his acquaintance, and flits from tree to tree with an expressive note of invitation, the meaning of which is both well known to the colonists and the Hottentots. A person thus invited by the honey-guide seldom refuses to follow it onward till it stops, as it is certain to do, at some hollow tree containing a bee-hive, usually well stored with honey and wax. It may be that the bird finds itself inadequate to the attack of a legion of bees, or to penetrate into the interior of the hive, and is thence led to invite an agent more powerful than itself. The person invited, indeed, always leaves the bird a share of the spoil, as it would be considered sacrilege to rob it of its due, or in any way to injure so sacred a bird.