CHAPTER XXXIII.. Instincts of Bees.

INSTINCTS OF BEES.

All creatures, of whatever size, that live together in large communities, have long been observed to display more knowledge and ingenuity than those that do not congregate: this superiority is also supposed to distinguish those which possess the most exquisite sense of touch, and whose occupations require a continued exertion of their powers. The insect tribe strongly confirm the truth of these remarks.

Solitary insects may exhibit a single trait of superiority, either in the catching of their prey, as the spider does; or in the securing of a well protected habitation, as is instanced by the carpenter bee, the mason bee, and some other lone and non-associating insects: but the history of those which unite in societies unfolds more of insect energy and talent. In large communities a combination of exertions is requisite, to procure supplies for the general weal; an intercourse of mutual intelligence is kept up; labour is regularly divided; the sphere of action is extended; and in cases of emergency, there is an unusual manifestation of insect power and intelligence. Instances of all these faculties are eminently conspicuous in the honey-bee;--some of them I have before noticed, and shall now advert to a few more.

The mental powers of bees, if I may be allowed to use the term, have been included, by some writers under the general name of Instinct; others, considering the whole of their proceedings to be fraught with intelligence, have regarded them as evidences of a reasoning power. All the phænomena of insect life cannot I presume be explained without giving them credit for both.

"Deem not, vain mortal, that reserv'd for thee Hangs all the ripening fruit on reason's tree; Even these, the tiniest tenants of thy care, Claim of that reason, their apportion'd share: Witness yon slaughter'd snail, within their door, Tomb'd like the first bold Greek on Ilion's shore."

+Evans.+

A snail having crept into one of M. Reaumur's hives early in the morning, after crawling about for some time, adhered by means of its own slime to one of the glass panes, where, but for the bees, it would probably have remained, till either a moist air or its own spume had loosened the adhesion. The bees having discovered the snail, immediately surrounded it, and formed a border of propolis round the verge of its shell, which was, at last, so securely fixed to the glass, as to become immoveable, either by the moisture of the air from without, or by the snail's secretion from within.

"Nor aught avails that in his torpid veins, Year after year, life's loitering spark remains: For ever clos'd the impenetrable door, He sinks on death's cold arm to rise no more."

+Evans.+

Maraldi has related a somewhat similar instance. A houseless snail or slug, as it is called, had entered one of his hives: the bees, as soon as they observed it, pierced it with their stings, till it expired beneath their repeated strokes; after which, being unable to dislodge it, they covered it all over with propolis.

"For, soon in fearless ire, their wonder lost. Spring fiercely from the comb th' indignant host. Lay the pierc'd monster breathless on the ground, And clap, in joy, their victor pinions round. While all in vain concurrent numbers strive, To heave the slime-girt giant from the hive,-- Sure not alone by force instinctive sway'd, But blest with reason's soul-directing aid, Alike in man or bee, they haste to pour, Thick hardening as it falls, the flaky shower; Embalm'd in shroud of glue the mummy lies, No worms invade, no foul miasmas rise."

+Evans.+

In these two cases, who can withhold his admiration of the ingenuity and judgement of the bees? In the first case, a troublesome creature gained admission into the hive, which, from its unwieldiness, they could not remove, and which, from the impenetrability of its shell, they could not destroy: here then their only resource was to deprive it of loco-motion, and to obviate putrefaction; both which objects they accomplished most skilfully and securely,--and, as is usual with these sagacious creatures, at the least possible expense of labour and materials. They applied their cement, where alone it was required, namely, round the verge of the shell. In the latter case, to obviate the evil of putrescence, by the total exclusion of air, they were obliged to be more lavish in the use of their embalming material, and to form with it so complete an incrustation or case over the "slime-girt giant," as to guard them from the consequences which the atmosphere invariably produces upon all animal substances, that are exposed to its action after life has become extinct. May it not be asked, What means more effectual could human wisdom have devised, under similar circumstances? Indeed, many of the proceedings of bees and other associated insects seem traceable to a reasoning power; for they exhibit an adaptation of means to ends, and vary them to suit particular emergencies,--the judicious performance of actions with a view to some proposed end, is the criterion by which we judge of rationality.

On the other hand, the difficulty of ascribing some of their actions to any other principle than that which is known by the name of Instinct, has led to a classification of the whole of their proceedings under that head.

+Instinct+ is a faculty the exercise of which implies an exquisitely fine mechanism of some of the senses. It appears to operate independently of all anticipation of consequences; the avenues to knowledge are, to be sure, less circuitous in these and other animals than in man, neither experience nor inductive reasoning seem to be at all essential to the perfection of their operations; they may be said to have, what many an indolent human being has wished to find,--a royal road to knowledge.

"If in the Insect, Reason's twilight ray Sheds on the darkling mind a doubtful day. Plain is the steady light her Instincts yield. To point the road o'er life's unvaried field; If few those Instincts, to the destin'd goal, With surer course, their straiten'd currents roll."

+Evans.+

One writer, and that a very ingenious one, has endeavoured to resolve all instincts into reason, and has boldly hazarded the following conjecture. "If we were better acquainted with the histories of those insects that are formed into societies,--as the bees, wasps and ants,--we should find that their arts and improvements are not so similar and uniform as they now appear to us, but that they arose in the same manner (from experience and tradition) as the arts of our own species; though their reasoning is from few ideas, is busied about fewer objects, and is exerted with less energy."

Since the Doctor wrote this passage, much light has been thrown upon those very subjects on which he laments our defective knowledge: but whilst it strengthens what I have said as to the possession of reason by insects, it confirms my observations respecting their instinctive powers.

There are facts recorded, in +Huber's+ researches respecting ants, which exhibit in some at least of those insects, (the Amazons,) a power of acquiring habits and characters which cannot well be regarded as merely instinctive. The Amazons take advantage of an improvement in their condition, and avail themselves of that strength, which sometimes accrues to them, in consequence of a large accession to their numbers. To relieve themselves from labour, they enslave, by a coup de main, a feeble colony of ants of another species, and transporting it to their own domicile, impose upon the captives the task of collecting provision, rearing the young, repairing the formicary, &c. &c. The Amazons become a complete aristocracy, and like ladies and gentlemen, have servants to wait upon them.

I shall not attempt to determine the point where intellect begins to dawn, nor to assign the boundary where instinct assumes the characteristics of reason. For it is no where more difficult to discriminate between the regular operation of implanted motives, and the result of acquired knowledge and habits, than in studying the phænomena presented by the bee. For the present therefore I must be allowed to regard the provinces of reason and instinct as undefinable; indeed it seems highly probable that our limited faculties may never enable us to acquire a knowledge of them. Still the facts which I have related, and those which I shall proceed to detail, afford such apparently strong evidences of a reasoning faculty, that without introducing that faculty as their source, I shall be at a loss to explain the phænomena. +Dr. Darwin+ in his Zoonomia, relates an anecdote of apparent ratiocination in a wasp, which had caught a fly nearly as large as itself. Kneeling down, the Doctor saw the wasp dissever the head and tail from the trunk of the fly, and attempt to soar with the latter: but finding when about two feet from the ground that the wings of the fly carried too much sail, and caused its prize and itself to be whirled about, by a little breeze that had arisen, it dropped upon the ground with its prey, and deliberately sawed off with its mandibles, first one wing and then the other: having thus removed these impediments to its progress, the wasp flew away with its booty, and experienced no further molestation from the wind.

Some of the proceedings of bees in glass hives cannot be referred to their instinctive faculties,--glass being a substance which would never be presented to them in their natural state. "Having frequently observed," says +Dr. Evans+, "on the inside of my glass hives, prior to the formation of cells, a number of gluey spots ranged at regular distances, I supposed them at first to be intended as a kind of land-marks, pointing out the divisions of the future streets, &c. On re-examination, however, I found them evidently used as so many footstools on the slippery glass, each bee resting on one of these with its middle pair of legs, while the fore-claws were hooked with the hind ones of the next above; thus forming a living ladder, by which the workers were enabled to reach the top, and pursue their favourite plan of commencing their combs there."

A very striking illustration of the reasoning power of bees occurred to my friend +Mr. Walond+. Inspecting his bee-boxes at the end of October 1817, he perceived that a centre comb, burthened with honey, had separated from its attachments, and was leaning against another comb, so as to prevent the passage of the bees between them. This accident excited great activity in the colony, but its nature could not be ascertained at the time. At the end of a week, the weather being cold and the bees clustered together, Mr. W. observed, through the window of the box, that they had constructed two horizontal pillars betwixt the combs alluded to, and had removed so much of the honey and wax from the top of each, as to allow the passage of a bee: in about ten days more there was an uninterrupted thoroughfare; the detached comb at its upper part had been secured by a strong barrier and fastened to the window with the spare wax. This being accomplished, the bees removed the horizontal pillars first constructed, as being of no further use. "During this laborious process," says Mr. W. "the glass window in the box was as warm as I had felt it during any part of the summer, and the bees were as active within the box."

+M. P. Huber+ of Lausanne, in his Observations on Humble-bees, published in the sixth volume of the Linnæan Transactions, has given a curious detail of some experiments in which the bees conducted themselves somewhat similarly to those of Mr. Walond. Having inclosed twelve humble-bees in a bell-glass, upon a table, he gave them a part of their cones or chrysalids, containing about ten silken cocoons, and freeing the latter as much as possible from wax, he fed the bees for some days with pollen only. The cells containing the cones being very unequal, the mass was so unsteady as extremely to disquiet the bees. Their affection for their young led them to mount upon the cocoons, to impart warmth to the inclosed larvæ: they could not do this without causing the comb to totter or lean on one side, and having no wax for fastening the work to the table, they had recourse to the following ingenious expedient. Two or three bees got upon the comb, and descending to the lower edge of it, with their heads downwards, hung from it by the hooks of their hind feet, and clung to the table by those of the second pair, which are very long; thus did they keep this piece of cell-work steady by their own muscular strength. When fatigued by this constrained and irksome position, they were relieved by their comrades; even the queen assisted. Having kept the bees in this state till nearly the end of the third day, and shown them to several persons, Huber introduced some honey, to enable them to form wax: they soon constructed pillars, extending from the most projecting parts of the cell-work to the table, and kept the cell-work in a firm position. The wax, however, getting gradually dry, the pillars gave way; when the poor insects adopted their former straining expedient for steadying the comb, and continued, perseveringly, to sustain it in this manner, till Huber took pity on them and glued the cake of comb firmly to the table. Could the most intelligent architect have more judiciously propped a tottering edifice, till adequate supports could be applied?

The resources of bees, when attacked by the Sphinx Atropos or Death's-head Hawk-moth are much in point. In this case, according to +Huber+, they construct small archways and various other ingenious barricadoes, with a mixture of wax and propolis, so as just to allow the egress and ingress of one or two workers, and effectually to exclude their marauding enemy. The bees do not, as if guided by mere instinct, commence their fortifications on the first attack of the Sphinx, nor until they have been robbed of nearly their whole stock of honey. This therefore seems to be a case in which reason is taught by experience, and which admits in all its particulars of a direct comparison with human reason and human contrivance. Moreover, on the cessation of danger, and when honey-flowers were abundant, the colony prosperous and swarms prepared to issue, these sagacious engineers demolished the fortifications, in order to give room for the exit and entrance of the bees. A colony that had been thus attacked in 1804, and was tardy in its defensive preparations, having derived instruction from the past, constructed fresh ramparts speedily, on the reappearance of the Sphinx in 1807, and thus guarded itself from impending danger.

From what has been said in page 296, it seems probable that the lives of the working bees do not extend beyond a year, at the utmost: if therefore my inference be legitimate, the information of the colony of 1807 must have been traditional, or else derived from a queen which had reigned over them from 1804. On the subject of traditional information, see Memory of Bees. It is further remarkable, as a confirmation of this process of ratiocination and reflection, that if the apiarian apply proper guards before the entrances to the hives, when the Sphinx makes its appearance, the bees, finding that they are anticipated, devise no measures of security.

I shall adduce another instance in support of my position that insects are endowed with reason, and that they mutually communicate and receive information. "A German artist 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 busily engaged, in making for the reception of its egg a pellet of dung, which when finished, the insect rolled to the summit of a hillock, and repeatedly suffered it to tumble down the slope, apparently for the purpose of consolidating the pellet by the adhesion of earth to it in its rotating motion. During this process, the pellet unluckily fell into a hole, out of which the beetle was unable to extricate it. After several ineffectual attempts, the insect went to an adjoining heap of dung, and soon returned with three companions. All four applied their united strength to the pellet, and at length succeeded in pushing it out, when the three assistant beetles left the spot, and returned to their own quarters."

+Mr. Hunter+ speaks rather sarcastically, upon the subject of reason being one of the attributes of insects. "Reason," says he, "has been ascribed to bees; they have been supposed to be legislators, and even mathematicians; and though there is some show of reason for these suppositions, there is much more of imagination." To show how far the excursive fancy of apiarians had sometimes carried them, Mr. H. selected a very unfortunate instance, namely, the assertion, as he calls it, that workers' eggs may be converted into queens,--a fact which has since been established by a series of the most satisfactory experiments. +Dr. Virey+, in his Nouvelle Dictionnaire d'Histoire Naturelle, denies that insects possess any portion of intellect, and attributes all their operations to mere instinct, which he considers as the result of pure mechanism, depending upon the construction of their nervous systems, in the same manner as the tune played upon a barrel organ, is dependent on the notes which the cylinder successively presents to its keys. +Des Cartes+, and others before him, held a similar opinion, considering insects as being simply susceptible of external impressions, and through the medium of that susceptibility stimulated to act. If this doctrine be correct, instinct is possessed alike by animals and vegetables; in short by every thing that has life, the difference being not in quality, but in quantity.

+Buffon+ attempted to explain the phænomena of insect life by the simple laws of mechanism, conceding to the insects at the same time a power of distinguishing and choosing between pleasure and pain. Some have even ventured to assert that the invariable exactness of the cell-work of bees is a proof of their stupidity, and "that the wonders of the honey'd reign," no more bespeak the agency of mind or intellect, than the configuration of salts into their respective crystals.

"Shall then proud sophists arrogant and vain. Spurn all the wonders of the honey'd reign. And bid alike one mindless influence own The social bee, and crystallizing stone? Each link they trace in animation's round, Dashes their poison'd chalice to the ground."

+Evans.+

If this theory respecting insects were just, it should elucidate all the phenomena which it undertakes to explain, otherwise it is injurious to science. Examination will prove it to be a mere hypothetical opinion, ingenious, and at first sight plausible, but completely unsatisfactory. This theory is the natural consequence of denying to insects any portion of intellect, and its erroneousness is shown by their capability of instruction. Instinct itself cannot be a purely mechanical process, or it would be incapable of modification, and would, under like circumstances, always act in the same manner. +Sir Joseph Banks's+ spider that, on being crippled, changed from a sedentary web-weaver to a hunter, is an instance of modified instinct. The well known fact that birds build their nests differently, where climate and other circumstances require a variation, is another instance. A dog may be restrained from obeying its instincts, by the intimidating recollection of a beating which it had formerly received; a bee, if alarmed, will quit the nectary of a flower:--here the intellect of the creatures counteracts their instincts. There are other instances in which the intellect appears to direct the instincts. When the bee makes excursive flights in quest of pasture, its senses serve to guide it, and enable it, by the aid of memory, to retrace its passage home again. At the conclusion of its outward and homeward journeys, its instincts immediately begin to operate; in the one case, teaching it to imbibe nectar, collect pollen, &c.; in the other, to store and apply those materials to their respective uses.

+M. Reimar+ has denied that the lower animals possess memory, properly so called; and has given it as his opinion, that they are only influenced by past events, in consequence of having present objects before them,--never by reflection or knowledge of the past, as being past. But that, with them, a former impression may be renewed, without being recollected; that it is thus rendered present to the imagination, but has no place in the memory. For arguments and instances in support of their being endowed with memory, see page 260. (Organs of Sensation.)

The possession of the organs of sense implies the possession of some portion of intellect, for without intellect those organs would seem incapable of being employed to the greatest advantage. "There is this difference," says +Mr. Spence+, "between intellect in man, and the rest of the animal creation. Their intellect teaches them to follow the lead of their senses, and to make such use of the external world as their appetites or instincts incline them to,--and this is their wisdom: while the intellect of man, being associated with an immortal principle, and connected with a world above that which his senses reveal to him, can, by aid derived from heaven, control those senses, and render them obedient to the governing power of his nature; and this is his wisdom." A distinction has been made, and very properly, between wisdom and knowledge. The former alone can be possessed by the lower animals, man can possess both. The distinction between them has been very accurately marked by +Cowper+, though in making it he has confined himself to man only.

"Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have oft times no connection. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men, Wisdom in minds attentive to their own."

It will, I think, be evident to my readers, from the general tenour of this chapter, that though I make a distinction between the instinct and the reason of bees, I do not confound their reason with the reason of man. But to obviate all possibility of misconception, I will at once define my meaning, when I use the terms insect reason and instinct.

By reason, I mean the power of making deductions from previous experience or observation, and, thereby of adapting means to ends. Instinct I regard as a disposition and power to perform certain actions in the same uniform manner, without reference either to observation or experience. Those who have attended to this subject, will be aware that insect reason as above defined, is more restricted in its functions than the reason of man; to which is superadded the power of distinguishing between the true and the false, and, according to some metaphysicians, between right and wrong. Reason, in man, has a regular growth, and a slow progression; all the arts he practises evince skill and dexterity, proportioned to the pains which have been taken in acquiring them. In the lower links of creation, but little of this gradual improvement is observable; their powers carry them almost directly to their object. They are perfect, as +Bacon+ says, in all their members and organs from the very beginning.

"Far different Man, to higher fates assign'd. Unfolds with tardier step his Proteus mind, With numerous Instincts fraught, that lose their force Like shallow streams, divided in their course; Long weak, and helpless, on the fostering breast, In fond dependence leans the infant guest. Till Reason ripens what young impulse taught. And builds, on sense, the lofty pile of thought; From earth, sea, air, the quick perceptions rise, And swell the mental fabric to the skies."

+Evans.+

"Every manufacturing art," says +Dr. Reid+, "was invented by some one man, successively improved and perfected by others; and when thus perfected, known only by those to whom it has been taught: while in the arts of animals no individual can claim the invention. Every animal of the species has equal skill from the beginning, without teaching, without experience, or habit."

"Both Instinct and Reason," says +Dr. Evans+, "appear to lose their intensity, in proportion as their rays diverge from their proper focus; and as they are less frequently aroused to action. A domesticated fowl is furnished with the same apparatus as her wild sisters on the waste, for rendering her feathers impenetrable to water: yet, living principally under cover, she secretes much less of the oily fluid, destined for that purpose, and makes, when accidentally wet, a most ridiculous appearance. The force of instinctive propensities, when directed to one object, and uninfluenced by reason, is strongly exemplified in the idiot bee-eater of Selborne, mentioned by +Mr. White+, in his History of Selborne. The collected powers of reason, when concentred in a single focus, is no less finely instanced in the immortal +Newton+."

To those readers who have not seen Mr. White's account of the bee-eater, the following abstract of it may prove acceptable.

The boy was a resident in Selborne, about the year 1750. He took great notice of bees from his childhood, and at length used to eat them. In summer, his few faculties were devoted to the pursuit of them, through fields and gardens. During winter, his father's chimney corner was his favourite haunt, where he dozed away his time, in an almost torpid state. Practice made him so expert, that he could seize honey-bees, humble-bees or wasps, with his naked hands, disarm them of their stings, and suck their honey-bags, with perfect impunity. Sometimes he would store the bees in bottles, and even in his shirt bosom. He was the terror of the surrounding bee-keepers, whose gardens he would enter by stealth, and rapping on the outsides of their hives, catch the bees as they came out to see what was the matter. If in this way he could not obtain a sufficient number to supply his wants, so passionately fond was he of honey, that he would sometimes overturn the hives to get at it. He was accustomed to hover about the tubs of the mead-makers, to beg a draught of bee-wine, as he called it. As he ran about the fields he made a humming noise with his lips, resembling that of bees. The lad was lean in his person, and of a cadaverous unhealthy aspect: he died before he reached the age of maturity.