First, there is the single cell attached to a small part that had penetrated the roof of the burrow. Next comes a more advanced stage, in which three cells are made, and the roof is just begun, being not quite half an inch in diameter. Then come five cells, and a tolerably large roof; and then twelve cells, with a complete roof.
The next stage is that which is represented in the illustration, where the group of cells is seen suspended from its slender footstalk, and a second covering is in progress. By degrees the nest enlarges until the second layer or tier of cells is begun, while the first tier is occupied in the centre by the pupæ, sheltered by their little silk doors, and on the circumference by the larvæ, whose cells are still open in order to allow themselves to be fed by the nurse-wasps.
In these nests, the difference between the homes of Vespa vulgaris and those of V. germanica is very strongly marked, the former being yellowish brown, and the latter grey. One nest of V. germanica, is remarkable for being thickly studded with the long, white eggs of some insect, probably a parasite, which has gained admittance to the burrow, in spite of the care of its guardians. It may be here mentioned, that V. germanica is by far the most common species of wasp in England.
The illustration at p. 90 represents a completed nest of V. germanica. The rough, thick covering is seen outside, and within are the tiers of cells, each layer being supported by pillars from the layer immediately above. These pillars are always formed at the angle where these cells touch each other, so as to obtain as strong a foundation as possible. Only a very small space is left between the combs, just enough room, in fact, for the nurse-wasps to pass as they feed the young. The reader will remember that the young wasps all hang with their heads downwards, being held in their places by a sort of clasper at the end of the tail.]
When the foundress-wasp has completed a certain number of cells, and deposited eggs in them, she soon intermits her building operations, in order to procure food for the young grubs, which now require all her care. In a few weeks these become perfect wasps, and lend their assistance in the extension of the edifice; enlarging the original coping of the foundress by side walls, and forming another platform of cells, suspended to the first by columns, as that had been suspended to the ceiling.
a a, the external wall; b, c c, five small terraces of cells for the neuter wasps, d d, e e, three rows of larger cells for the males and females.
In this manner several platforms of combs are constructed, the outer walls being extended at the same time; and, by the end of the summer, there is generally from twelve to fifteen platforms of cells. Each contains about 1060 cells—forty-nine being contained in an inch and a half square, and, of course, making the enormous number of about 16,000 cells in one colony. Réaumur, upon these data, calculates that one vespiary may produce every year more than 30,000 wasps, reckoning only 10,000 cells, and each serving successively for the cradle of three generations. But, although the whole structure is built at the expense of so much labour and ingenuity, it has scarcely been finished before the winter sets in, when it becomes nearly useless, and serves only for the abode of a few benumbed females, who abandon it on the approach of spring, and never return; for wasps do not, like mason-bees, ever make use of the same nest for more than one season.
Both Réaumur and the younger Huber studied the proceedings of the common wasp in the manner which has been so successful in observing bees—by means of glazed hives, and other contrivances. In this, these naturalists were greatly aided by the extreme affection of wasps for their young; for though their nest is carried off, or even cut in various directions, and exposed to the light, they never desert it, nor relax their attention to their progeny. When a wasp’s nest is removed from its natural situation, and covered with a glass hive, the first operation of the inhabitants is to repair the injuries it has suffered. They carry off with surprising activity all the earth or other matters which have fallen by accident into the nest; and when they have got it thoroughly cleared of everything extraneous, they begin to secure it from further derangement, by fixing it to the glass with papyraceous columns, similar to those which we have already described. The breaches which the nest may have suffered are then repaired, and the thickness of the walls is augmented, with the design, perhaps, of more effectually excluding the light.
* * * * *
The nest of the hornet is nearly the same in structure with that of the wasp; but the materials are considerably coarser, and the columns to which the platforms of cells are suspended are larger and stronger, the middle one being twice as thick as any of the others. The hornet, also, does not build underground, but in the cavities of trees, or in the thatch or under the eaves of barns. Réaumur once found upon a wall a hornet’s nest which had not been long begun, and had it transferred to the outside of his study-window; but in consequence, as he imagined, of the absence of the foundress-hornet at the time it was removed, he could not get the other five hornets, of which the colony consisted, either to add to the building or repair the damages which it had sustained.
M. Réaumur differs from our English naturalists, White, and Kirby and Spence, with respect to the materials employed by the hornet for building. The latter say that it employs decayed wood; the former, that it uses the bark of the ash-tree, but takes less pains to split it into fine fibres than wasps do; not, however, because it is destitute of skill; for in constructing the suspensory columns of the platforms, a paste is prepared little inferior to that made by wasps. We cannot, from our own observations, decide which of the above statements is correct, as we have only once seen a hornet procuring materials, at Compton-Bassett, in Wiltshire; and in that case it gnawed the inner bark of an elm which had been felled for several months, and was, consequently, dry and tough. Such materials as this would account for the common yellowish-brown colour of a hornet’s nest. (J. R.)
[The accompanying figure represents a completed hornet’s nest as it appears when suspended from a beam. Hornets often choose for their home the space between the roof and the ceiling of summer-houses, and the nests that are made in such localities are mostly large and handsome. The reader should notice the blisters by means of which the insect enlarges its habitation.]
When hornets make choice of a tree for their domicile, they select one which is in a state of decay, and already partly hollowed; but they possess the means, in their sharp and strong mandibles, of extending the excavation to suit their purposes; and Réaumur frequently witnessed their operations in mining into a decayed tree, and carrying off what they had gnawed. He observed, also, that in such cases they did not make use of the large hole of the tree for an entrance, but went to the trouble of digging a gallery, sufficient for the passage of the largest hornet in the nest, through the living and undecayed portion of the tree. As this is perforated in a winding direction, it is no doubt intended for the purpose of protecting the nest from the intrusion of depredators, who could more easily effect an entrance if there were not such a tortuous way to pass through.
[Here is an illustration of a hornet’s nest as it appears in the hollow of a tree. Industrious as is this insect, it never takes needless trouble, and alters its nest according to circumstances. As has already been seen, the combs are defended by a complete cover when the nest is placed in an open situation. But when it is built in the hollow of a tree there is no cover at all, the insect evidently knowing that the wooden wall with which the cells are surrounded, affords a sufficient protection. In cases where a cover is made, the hornets do not form only a single entrance, as is the case with the wasp, but have a large number of small entrances in different parts of the wall. Some of these entrances can be seen in the illustration on page 93.
Hornets are in one sense more industrious than wasps. When night falls, the wasps betake themselves to their home, and sleep throughout the night. But, if the moon be up, the hornet is sure to work throughout the entire night, and will often do so, even when no moon is visible.]
* * * * *
One of the most remarkable of our native social wasps is the tree-wasp (Vespa Britannica), which is not uncommon in the northern, but is seldom to be met with in the southern parts of the island. Instead of burrowing in the ground like the common wasp (Vespa vulgaris), or in the hollows of trees like the hornet (Vespa crabro), it boldly swings its nest from the extremity of a branch, where it exhibits some resemblance, in size and colour, to a Welsh wig hung out to dry. We have seen more than one of these nests on the same tree, at Catrine, in Ayrshire, and at Wemyss Bay, in Renfrewshire. The tree which the Britannic wasp prefers is the silver fir, whose broad flat branch serves as a protection to the suspended nest both from the sun and the rain. We have also known a wasp’s nest of this kind in a gooseberry-bush, at Red-house Castle, East Lothian. The materials and structure are nearly the same as those employed by the common wasp, and which we have already described. (J. R.)
[We have before us a beautiful example of a nest made by this species of wasp. There are no less than three consecutive coverings quite entire, while another is about three-fourths completed, and a fifth is just begun. The illustration exhibits a very perfect specimen.]
A singular nest of a species of wasp is figured by Réaumur, but is apparently rare in this country, as Kirby and Spence mention only a single nest of similar construction, found in a garden at East-Dale. This nest is of a flattened globular figure, and composed of a great number of envelopes, so as to assume a considerable resemblance to a half-expanded Provence rose. The British specimen mentioned by Kirby and Spence had only one platform of cells; Réaumur had two; but there was a large vacant space, which would probably have been filled with cells, had the nest not been taken away as a specimen. The whole nest was not much larger than a rose, and was composed of paper exactly similar to that employed by the common ground-wasp.[X]
[This is probably the nest of V. rufa. We possess several specimens of the nest, one of which corresponds tolerably closely with the edifice described in the work.]
There is another species of social-wasp (Epipone nidulans, Latr.) meriting attention from the singular construction of its nest. It forms one or more terraces of cells, similar to those of the common wasp, but without the protection of an outer wall, and quite exposed to the weather. Swammerdam found a nest of this description attached to the stem of a nettle. Réaumur says that they are sometimes attached to the branch of a thorn or other shrub, or to stalks of grass;—peculiarities which prove that there are several species of these wasps.
The most remarkable circumstance in the architecture of this species of vespiary is, that it is not horizontal, like those formerly described, but nearly vertical. The reason appears to be, that if it had been horizontal, the cells must have been frequently filled with rain; whereas, in the position in which it is placed, the rain runs off without lodging. It is, besides, invariably placed so as to face the north or the east, and consequently is less exposed to rains, which most frequently come with southerly or westerly winds. It is another remarkable peculiarity, that, unlike the nests of other wasps, it is covered with a shining coat of varnish, to prevent moisture from soaking into the texture of the wasp’s paper. The laying on this varnish, indeed, forms a considerable portion of the labour of the colony, and individuals may be seen employed for hours together spreading it on with their tongues.
[There is a genus of foreign hymenoptera, called Polistes, which is remarkable for the building powers possessed by its members. The accompanying illustration is taken from a nest in the British Museum, and is given of the natural size. The cells are not hexagonal, like those of the Epipone, but are roundish in form. Those in the centre assume a roughly hexagonal form by pressure, but those which form the circumference of the cell-group are nearly round, especially on their outer sides. The cells are not of uniform width, but are narrower at the base than at the mouth, thus causing the group to assume the form which is seen in the illustration. This curious group of cells was brought from Bareilly, in the East Indies, and in the same collection there are several other specimens, varying considerably both in shape and size.]
Few circumstances are more striking, with regard to insects, as Kirby and Spence justly remark, than the great and incessant labour which maternal affection for their progeny leads them to undergo. Some of these exertions are so disproportionate to the size of the insect, that nothing short of ocular conviction could attribute them to such an agent. A wild bee, or a wasp, for instance, as we have seen, will dig a hole in a hard bank of earth some inches deep, and five or six times its own size, labouring unremittingly at this arduous task for several days in succession, and scarcely allowing itself a moment for eating or repose. It will then occupy as much time in searching for a store of food; and no sooner is this finished, than it will set about repeating the process, and, before it dies, will have completed five or six similar cells, or even more.
We shall have occasion more particularly to dwell upon the geometrical arrangement of the cells, both of the wasp and of the social-bee, in our description of those interesting operations, which have long attracted the notice, and commanded the admiration of mathematicians and naturalists. A few observations may here be properly bestowed upon the material with which the wasp-family construct the interior of their nests.
The wasp is a paper-maker, and a most perfect and intelligent one. While mankind were arriving, by slow degrees, at the art of fabricating this valuable substance, the wasp was making it before their eyes, by very much the same process as that by which human hands now manufacture it with the best aid of chemistry and machinery. While some nations carved their records on wood, and stone, and brass, and leaden tablets,—others, more advanced, wrote with a style on wax,—others employed the inner bark of trees, and others the skins of animals rudely prepared,—the wasp was manufacturing a firm and durable paper. Even when the papyrus was rendered more fit, by a process of art, for the transmission of ideas in writing, the wasp was a better artisan than the Egyptians; for the early attempts at paper-making were so rude, that the substance produced was almost useless, from being extremely friable. The paper of the papyrus was formed of the leaves of the plant, dried, pressed, and polished; the wasp alone knew how to reduce vegetable fibres to a pulp, and then unite them by a size or glue, spreading the substance out into a smooth and delicate leaf. This is exactly the process of paper-making. It would seem that the wasp knows, as the modern paper-makers now know, that the fibres of rags, whether linen or cotton, are not the only materials that can be used in the formation of paper; she employs other vegetable matters, converting them into a proper consistency by her assiduous exertions. In some respects she is more skilful even than our paper-makers, for she takes care to retain her fibres of sufficient length, by which she renders her paper as strong as she requires. Many manufacturers of the present day cut their material into small bits, and thus produce a rotten article. One great distinction between good and bad paper is its toughness; and this difference is invariably produced by the fibre of which it is composed being long, and therefore tough; or short, and therefore friable.
The wasp has been labouring at her manufacture of paper from her first creation, with precisely the same instruments and the same materials; and her success has been unvarying. Her machinery is very simple, and therefore it is never out of order. She learns nothing, and she forgets nothing. Men, from time to time, lose their excellence in particular arts, and they are slow in finding out real improvements. Such improvements are often the effect of accident. Paper is now manufactured very extensively by machinery in all its stages; and thus, instead of a single sheet being made by hand, a stream of paper is poured out, which would form a roll large enough to extend round the globe, if such a length were desirable. The inventors of this machinery, Messrs. Fourdrinier, it is said, spent the enormous sum of 40,000l.. in vain attempts to render the machine capable of determining with precision the width of the roll; and, at last, accomplished their object, at the suggestion of a bystander, by a strap revolving upon an axis, at a cost of three shillings and sixpence. Such is the difference between the workings of human knowledge and experience, and those of animal instinct. We proceed slowly and in the dark, but our course is not bounded by a narrow line, for it seems difficult to say what is the perfection of any art; animals go clearly to a given point—but they can go no further. We may, however, learn something from their perfect knowledge of what is within their range. It is not improbable that if man had attended in an earlier state of society to the labours of wasps, he would have sooner known how to make paper. We are still behind in our arts and sciences, because we have not always been observers. If we had watched the operations of insects, and the structure of insects in general, with more care, we might have been far advanced in the knowledge of many arts which are yet in their infancy, for nature has given us abundance of patterns. We have learnt to perfect some instruments of sound by examining the structure of the human ear; and the mechanism of an eye has suggested some valuable improvements in achromatic glasses.
Réaumur has given a very interesting account of the wasps of Cayenne (Chartergus nidulans), which hang their nests in trees.[Y] Like the bird of Africa called the social grosbeak (Loxia socia), they fabricate a perfect house, capable of containing many hundreds of their community, and suspend it on high out of the reach of attack. But the Cayenne wasp is a more expert artist than the bird. He is a pasteboard-maker;—and the card with which he forms the exterior covering of his abode is so smooth, so strong, so uniform in its texture, and so white, that the most skilful manufacturer of this substance might be proud of the work. It takes ink admirably.
The nest of the pasteboard-making wasp is impervious to water. It hangs upon the branch of a tree, as represented in the engraving; and those rain-drops which penetrate through the leaves never rest upon its hard and polished surface. A small opening for the entrance of the insects terminates its funnel-shaped bottom. It is impossible to unite more perfectly the qualities of lightness and strength.
In the specimen from which we take our description, the length of which is nine inches, six stout circular platforms stretch internally across, like so many floors, and fixed all round to the walls of the nest. They are smooth above, with hexagonal cells on the under surface. These platforms are not quite flat, but rather concave above, like a watch-glass reversed; the centre of each platform is perforated for the admission of the wasps, at the extremity of a short funnel-like projection, and through this access is gained from story to story. On each platform, therefore, can the wasps walk leisurely about attending to the pupæ secured in the cells, which, with the mouths downward, cover the ceiling above their heads—the height of the latter being just convenient for their work.
[Unlike the habitations made by the British wasps, and which are vacated annually, this nest is permanent, and serves for several successive seasons. Of course, it must be enlarged continually, so as to accommodate an ever-increasing number of inhabitants. The mode of enlarging is sufficiently curious. The British wasps enlarge their nests either by making a larger covering and then removing the smaller, or by raising blisters on the outside, and eating away beneath them. But the pendulous wasp of Brazil proceeds on just the opposite principle, making new cells first, and covering them afterwards. The new tier of cells is set on the bottom of the nest, which thus becomes the floor of that tier, and a new bottom is then made beneath these new cells.]
Pendent wasps’ nests of enormous size are found in Ceylon, suspended often in the talipot-tree at the height of seventy feet. The appearance of these nests thus elevated, with the larger leaves of the tree, used by the natives as umbrellas and tents, waving over them, is very singular. Though no species of European wasp is a storer of honey, yet this rule does not apply to certain species of South America. In the ‘Annals and Magazine of Natural History’ for June, 1841, will be found a detailed account, with a figure, of the pendent nest of a species termed by Mr. A. White Myrapetra scutellaris. The external case consists of stout cardboard covered with conical knobs of various sizes. The entrances are artfully protected by pent-roofs from the weather and heavy rains; and are tortuous, so as to render the ingress of a moth or other large insect difficult. Internally are fourteen combs, exclusive of a globular mass, the nucleus of several circular combs, which are succeeded by others of an arched form—that is, constituting segments of circles. Many of the uppermost combs were found to have the cells filled with honey of a brownish-red colour, but which had lost its flavour. After entering into some minute details, Mr. A. White makes the following interesting observations:—"Azara, in the account of his residence in various parts of South America, mentions the fact of several wasps of these countries collecting honey. The Baron Walchenaer, who edited the French translation of this work, published in 1809, thought that the Spanish traveller, who was unskilled in entomology, had made some mistake with regard to the insects, and regarded the so-called wasps as belonging to some bee of the genus of which Apis amalthea is the type (Melipona). Latreille (who afterwards corrected his mistake) also believed that they must be referred to the genera Melipona or Trigona—insects which in South America take the place of our honey-bee. These authors were afterwards clearly convinced of the correctness of Azara’s observations, by the circumstance of M. Auguste de St. Hilaire finding near the river Uruguay an oval grey-coloured nest of a papery consistence, like that of the European wasps, suspended from the branches of a small shrub about a foot from the ground: he and two other attendants partook of some honey (contained in its cells) and found it of an agreeable sweetness, free from the pharmaceutic taste which so frequently accompanies European honey. He gives a detailed account of its poisonous effects on himself and his two men. Afterwards he procured specimens of the wasp, which was described by Latreille under the name of Polistes Lecheguana."
[The accompanying illustration shows this remarkable nest, both as it appears externally, and when divided vertically.
The material is probably the dung of the Capincha, an animal allied to the guinea-pig and the agouti. The natives, at all events, state that such is the case, and the aspect of the nest as seen through a magnifying glass carries out this assertion. The nest is hung to a branch, and is seldom more than four feet from the ground. The insect is a very little one in comparison with the size of the nest, which is sixteen inches in length, and twelve in width. The largest specimens of this insect are only one third of an inch long, while the generality scarcely exceed a quarter of an inch. Its colour is brown.
In the section is shown the very peculiar shape of the combs. At the upper part is seen the globular centre, surrounded with a comb that completely encircles it. Other combs follow in order, but are less curved as they approach the bottom of the nest. The insects obtain admission to the several tiers by means of apertures which are left between the extremities of the comb and the wall of the nest. The combs are made of the same material as the outer wall, but are very thin and paper-like. This nest may be seen in the British Museum.]
It would seem that the nest described by Mr. White agrees with that of a wasp termed Chiguana by Azara (or Lecheguana), and is very different to the slight papery nest of the Polistes Lecheguana of Latreille. We may add that M. Auguste de St. Hilaire speaks of two species of wasps remarkable for storing honey in South America; the honey of one is white, of the other reddish. That the habits of these honey-wasps must differ considerably from those of any of our European species we may at once admit; perhaps in some points of their economy these insects may approach the bee.
[In the same country as is inhabited by the Myrapetra, and in much the same localities, is sometimes found the nest of another honey-making wasp, called Nectarinia analis, a small and plainly-clad insect. It is hung to the branches of low trees and underwood, and often includes both twigs and leaves in its structure. The combs of this insect are greatly curved, in order to suit the shape of the general covering, but are not arranged with that beautiful regularity which distinguishes those of the Myrapetra. A specimen of this nest may be seen in the British Museum, and as the outer covering has been partially taken away, the observer will be enabled to note the general form of the combs and the structure of the cells.
In the accompanying illustration are shown the habitations of two remarkable insects, both belonging to the Hymenoptera. Indeed, the greater number of pensile nests made by insects are formed by members of this important order; and, if we were to exclude all the wasps, bees, and ants, we should find that we had excluded about ninety per cent. of the pensile architects.
The left-hand figure represents a nest made by a species of Polybia, inhabiting Brazil. It is made of a papery kind of substance, of rather slight texture, and is fixed to the stalk of a reed. The outside of the nest is seen to be marked with a series of horizontal ribs. These show the progressive stages of the nest, each rib marking a layer of paper as it was spread by the insect builder. The combs extend throughout the entire nest, the largest occupying the centre, and the smallest the ends. Each comb is firmly supported by a footstalk, which is fixed, not to the upper tier of cells, as is the case with the British wasps, but to the reed on which the nest is built.
Other species of Polybia build nests different in shape and arrangement, though still of the pensile character. One species builds a nearly globular nest, made in a rather curious manner. Carrying out still farther the principle on which the cardboard wasp enlarges its nest, the Polybia entirely covers the outer wall with cells, and then makes a new wall over them. When a nest has reached a tolerable size, it is composed of a whole series of concentric combs, the roof of each having been originally the outer wall of the nest. There are in the British Museum some admirable specimens of these nests, in some of which the process of enlargement can be very clearly traced. Patches of new cells are seen upon the external covering, while a few breaches in the structure show the concentric combs.
One very curious point about these cells is, that they are not uniform in their direction, as is generally the case with those of social hymenoptera. The greater part, such as the various wasps, hornets, and their kin, have the mouths of the cells downwards, while the cells of the hive-bee are nearly horizontal. But the cells of this insect are arranged without the least regard to their position, all the bases pointing towards the centre of the nest, and all the mouths radiating outwards.
There seems to be scarcely any bound to the variety which exists in the nests of the social hymenoptera. The insect which makes the nest which is represented in the illustration is a native of Brazil, and is known to entomologists as Synæca cyanea. The first of these names is given to it on account of its social habits, and the second, in reference to the bluish colour of its body. It is rather larger than the preceding insects, being about three quarters of an inch in length. Its wings are brown.
The shape and size of the nest are exceedingly variable, but it is almost invariably longer than wide, and is fixed to a branch or some similar object. Sometimes it attains considerable dimensions, and has been known to measure a full yard in length. Yet, however large it may be, there is only a single comb, which is set upon the side of the nest next the branch, and, in consequence, has almost all its cells placed in a horizontal direction. In the illustration, the right-hand figure represents the external appearance of the nest, and the central figure shows the manner in which the single comb is set upon the branch. The nest which occupies the left hand of the illustration is made by a species of Polybia, and is here given in order to show a remarkable example of similarity in the mode of building adopted by two different insects. In the one case, however, the cells are all fastened by their bases to the branch, but in the other the cells are attached to one common base which is prolonged into a footstalk.
There have been lately discovered some very remarkable social nests. Specimens of both these nests may be seen in the entomological department of the museum at Oxford.
The first is formed very much like a rather flattened Florence flask, and is hung by the neck from the branch of a tree. It is made of a strong, parchment-like substance, formed by innumerable silken threads woven and matted together into a kind of felt. When it was cut open a most singular sight was exhibited. Nearly the whole of the interior was covered with the pupæ of some butterfly, all hanging by their tails, and many of them suspended to a twig which projected downwards into the nest. Although the nest is barely eight inches in length, a great proportion of which is taken up by the neck, about one hundred pupæ were found in it. At the bottom of the nest is a small and nearly circular aperture, through which the insects could make their way as soon as they escaped from the pupal envelope, and before their wings became extended and hardened.
The butterfly which makes this singular nest is a native of Mexico, and is named Eucheira socialis. The colour of its wings is dark brown, with an ill-defined white band across them.
The second nest was brought from tropical Africa, and is remarkable for another peculiarity. It is shaped much like a cushion, and its measurements are, eight inches in length, five and a half in breadth, and three in depth. Instead of having only one place of exit for the inmates, it has thirteen or fourteen, all formed in the same manner. A number of short, stiff, and almost bristly threads are set round the apertures, their ends all projecting outwards, and converging to a point, where they all meet and even slightly cross each other. Owing to this structure, it is easy enough for any of the insects to pass out, as the converging hairs yield to the pressure, whereas they form an effectual barrier against any insect that wishes to creep into the nest.
The material of the nest is very strong and hard, and is formed of two layers, the inner being made of smooth brown silk, and the outer of harsher and stronger orange silk threads.]
ARCHITECTURE OF THE HIVE-BEE.
Although the hive-bee (Apis mellifica) has engaged the attention of the curious from the earliest ages, recent discoveries prove that we are yet only beginning to arrive at a correct knowledge of its wonderful proceedings. Pliny informs us that Astromachus, of Soles, in Cilicia, devoted fifty-eight years to the study; and that Philiscus the Thracian spent his whole life in forests for the purpose of observing them. But in consequence (as we may naturally infer) of the imperfect methods of research, assuming that what they did discover was known to Aristotle, Columella, and Pliny, we are justified in pronouncing the statements of these philosophers, as well as the embellished poetical pictures of Virgil, to be nothing more than conjecture, almost in every particular erroneous. It was not indeed till 1711, when glass hives were invented by Maraldi, a mathematician of Nico, that what we may call the in-door proceedings of bees could be observed. This important invention was soon afterwards taken advantage of by M. Réaumur, who laid the foundation of the more recent discoveries of John Hunter, Schirach, and the Hubers. The admirable architecture which bees exhibit in their miniature cities has, by these and other naturalists, been investigated with great care and accuracy. We shall endeavour to give as full an account of the wonderful structures as our limits will allow. In this we shall chiefly follow M. Huber the elder, whose researches appear almost miraculous when we consider that he was blind.
At the early age of seventeen this remarkable man lost his sight by gutta serena, the “drop serene” of our own Milton. But though cut off from the sight of Nature’s works, he dedicated himself to their study. He saw them through the eyes of the admirable woman whom he married; his philosophical reasonings pointed out to her all that he wanted to ascertain; and as she reported to him from time to time the results of his ingenious experiments, he was enabled to complete, by diligent investigation, one of the most accurate and satisfactory accounts of the habits of bees which had ever been produced.
It had long been known that the bees of a hive consist of three sorts, which was ascertained by M. Réaumur to be distinguished as workers or neuters, constituting the bulk of the population; drones or males, the least numerous class; and a single female, the queen and mother of the colony. Schirach subsequently discovered the very extraordinary fact, which Huber and others have proved beyond doubt, that when a hive is accidentally deprived of a queen, the grub of a worker can be and is fed in a particular manner so as to become a queen and supply the loss.[Z] But another discovery of M. Huber is of more importance to the subject of architecture now before us. By minute research he ascertained that the workers which had been considered by former naturalists to be all alike, are divided into two important classes, nurse-bees and wax-makers.
The nurse-bees are rather smaller than the wax-workers, and even when gorged with honey their belly does not, as in the others, appear distended. Their business is to collect honey, and impart it to their companions; to feed and take care of the young grubs, and to complete the combs and cells which have been founded by the others; but they are not charged with provisioning the hive.
The wax-workers, on the other hand, are not only a little larger, but their stomach, when gorged with honey, is capable of considerable distension, as M. Huber proved by repeated experiments. He also ascertained that neither of the varieties can alone fulfil all the functions shared among the workers of a hive. He painted those of each class with different colours, in order to study their proceedings, and their labours were not interchanged. In another experiment, after supplying a hive deprived of a queen with brood and pollen, he saw the nurse-bees quickly occupied in the nutrition of the grubs, while those of the wax-working class neglected them. When hives are full of combs, the wax-workers disgorge their honey into the ordinary magazines, making no wax; but if they want a reservoir for its reception, and if their queen does not find cells ready made wherein to lay her eggs, they retain the honey in the stomach, and in twenty-four hours they produce wax. Then the labour of constructing combs begins.
It might perhaps be supposed that, when the country does not afford honey, the wax-workers consume the provision stored up in the hive. But they are not permitted to touch it. A portion of honey is carefully preserved, and the cells containing it are protected by a waxen covering, which is never removed except in case of extreme necessity, and when honey is not to be otherwise procured. The cells are at no time opened during summer; other reservoirs, always exposed, contribute to the daily use of the community; each bee, however, supplying itself from them with nothing but what is required for present wants. Wax-workers appear with large bellies at the entrance of their hive only when the country affords a copious collection of honey. From this it may be concluded that the production of the waxy matter depends on a concurrence of circumstances not invariably subsisting. Nurse-bees also produce wax, but in a very inferior quantity to what is elaborated by the real wax-workers. Another characteristic whereby an attentive observer can determine the moment of bees collecting sufficient honey to produce wax, is the strong odour of both these substances from the hive, which is not equally intense at any other time. From such data, it was easy for M. Huber to discover whether the bees worked in wax in his own hives, and in those of the other cultivators of the district.
There is still another sort of bee, first observed by Huber in 1809, which appear to be only casual inmates of the hive, and which are driven forth to starve, or are killed in conflict. They closely resemble the ordinary workers, but are less hairy, and of a much darker colour. These have been called black bees, and are supposed by Huber to be defective bees;[AA] but Kirby and Spence conjecture that they are toil-worn superannuated workers, of no further use, and are therefore sacrificed, because burdensome to a community which tolerates no unnecessary inmates.
Preparation of Wax.
In order to build the beautiful combs, which every one must have repeatedly seen and admired, it is indispensable that the architect-bees should be provided with the materials—with the wax, in short, of which they are principally formed. Before we follow them, therefore, to the operation of building, it may be necessary to inquire how the wax itself is procured. Here the discoveries of recent inquirers have been little less singular and unexpected than in other departments of the history of these extraordinary insects. Now that it has been proved that wax is secreted by bees, it is not a little amusing to read the accounts given by our elder naturalists, of its being collected from flowers. Our countryman, Thorley,[AB] appears to have been the first who suspected the true origin of wax, and Wildman (1769) seems also to have been aware of it; but Réaumur, and particularly Bonnet, though both of them in general shrewd and accurate observers, were partially deceived by appearances.
The bees, we are erroneously told, search for wax "upon all sorts of trees and plants, but especially the rocket, the simple poppy, and in general all kinds of flowers. They amass it with their hair, with which their whole body is invested. It is something pleasant to see them roll in the yellow dust which falls from the chives to the bottom of the flowers, and then return covered with the same grains; but their best method of gathering the wax, especially when it is not very plentiful, is to carry away all the little particles of it with their jaws and fore feet, to press the wax upon them into little pellets, and slide them one at a time, with their middle feet, into a socket or cavity, that opens at their hinder feet, and serves to keep the burthen fixed and steady till they return home. They are sometimes exposed to inconveniences in this work by the motion of the air, and the delicate texture of the flowers, which bend under their feet and hinder them from packing up their booty, on which occasions they fix themselves in some steady place, where they press the wax into a mass, and wind it round their legs, making frequent returns to the flowers; and when they have stocked themselves with a sufficient quantity, they immediately repair to their habitation. Two men, in the compass of a whole day, could not amass so much as two little balls of wax; and yet they are no more than the common burthen of a single bee, and the produce of one journey. Those who are employed in collecting the wax from flowers are assisted by their companions, who attend them at the door of the hive, ease them of their load at their arrival, brush their feet, and shake out the two balls of wax; upon which the others return to the fields to gather new treasure, while those who disburthened them convey their charge to the magazine. But some bees, again, when they have brought their load home, carry it themselves to the lodge, and there deliver it, laying hold of one end by their hinder feet, and with their middle feet sliding it out of the cavity that contained it; but this is evidently a work of supererogation which they are not obliged to perform. The packets of wax continue a few moments in the lodge, till a set of officers come, who are charged with a third commission, which is to knead this wax with their feet, and spread it out into different sheets, laid one above another. This is the unwrought wax, which is easily distinguished to be the produce of different flowers, by the variety of colours that appear on each sheet. When they afterwards come to work, they knead it over again; they purify and whiten, and then reduce it to a uniform colour. They use this wax with a wonderful frugality; for it is easy to observe that the whole family is conducted by prudence, and all their actions regulated by good government. Everything is granted to necessity, but nothing to superfluity; not the least grain of wax is neglected, and if they waste it, they are frequently obliged to provide more; at those very times when they want to get their provision of honey, they take off the wax that closed the cells, and carry it to the magazine."[AC]
Réaumur hesitated in believing that this was a correct view of the subject, from observing the great difference between wax and pollen; but he was inclined to think the pollen might be swallowed, partially digested, and disgorged in the form of a kind of paste. Schirach also mentions, that it was remarked by a certain Lusatian, that wax comes from the rings of the body, because, on withdrawing a bee while it is at work, and extending its body, the wax may be seen there in the form of scales.
The celebrated John Hunter shrewdly remarked that the pellets of pollen seen on the thighs of bees are of different colours on different bees, while the shade of the new-made comb is always uniform; and therefore he concluded that pollen was not the origin of wax. Pollen also, he observed, is collected with greater avidity for old hives, where the comb is complete, than for those where it is only begun, which would hardly be the case were it the material of wax. He found that when the weather was cold and wet in June, so that a young swarm was prevented from going abroad, as much comb was constructed as had been made in an equal time when the weather was favourable and fine.
The pellets of pollen on the thighs being thence proved not to be wax, he came to the conclusion that it was an external secretion, originating between the plates of the belly. When he first observed this, he felt not a little embarrassed to explain the phenomenon, and doubted whether new plates were forming, or whether bees cast their old ones as lobsters do their shell. By melting the scales, he ascertained at least that they were wax; and his opinion was confirmed by the fact, that the scales are only to be found during the season when the combs are constructed. But he did not succeed in completing the discovery by observing the bees actually detach the scales, though he conjectured they might be taken up by others, if they were once shaken out from between the rings.[AD]
We need not be so much surprised at mistakes committed upon this subject, when we recollect that honey itself was believed by the ancients to be an emanation of the air—a dew that descended upon flowers, as if it had a limited commission to fall only on them. The exposure and correction of error is one of the first steps to genuine knowledge; and when we are aware of the stumbling-blocks which have interrupted the progress of others, we can always travel more securely in the way of truth.
That wax is secreted is proved both by the wax-pouches within the rings of the abdomen, and by actual experiment. Huber and others fed bees entirely upon honey or sugar, and, notwithstanding, wax was produced and combs formed as if they had been at liberty to select their food. “When bees were confined,” says M. Huber, "for the purpose of discovering whether honey was sufficient for the production of wax, they supported their captivity patiently, and showed uncommon perseverance in rebuilding their combs as we removed them. Our experiments required the presence of grubs; honey and water had to be provided; the bees were to be supplied with combs containing brood, and at the same time it was necessary to confine them, that they might not seek pollen abroad. Having a swarm by chance, which had become useless from sterility of the queen, we devoted it for our investigation in one of my leaf-hives, which was glazed on both sides. We removed the queen, and substituted combs containing eggs and young grubs, but no cell with farina; even the smallest particle of the substance which John Hunter conjectured to be the basis of the nutriment of the young was taken away.
"Nothing remarkable occurred during the first and second day: the bees brooded over the young, and seemed to take an interest in them; but at sunset on the third a loud noise was heard in the hive. Impatient to discover the reason, we opened a shutter, and saw all in confusion; the brood was abandoned, the workers ran in disorder over the combs, thousands rushed towards the lower part of the hive, and those about the entrance gnawed at its grating. Their design was not equivocal; they wished to quit their prison. Some imperious necessity evidently obliged them to seek elsewhere what they could not find in the hive; and apprehensive that they might perish if I restrained them longer from yielding to their instinct, I set them at liberty. The whole swarm escaped, but the hour being unfavourable for their collections, they flew around the hive, and did not depart far from it. Increasing darkness and the coolness of the air compelled them very soon to return. Probably these circumstances calmed their agitation; for we observed them peaceably remounting their combs; order seemed re-established, and we took advantage of this moment to close the hive.
"Next day, the 19th of July, we saw the rudiments of two royal cells, which the bees had formed on one of the brood-combs. This evening, at the same hour as on the preceding, we again heard a loud buzzing in the closed hive; agitation and disorder rose to the highest degree, and we were again obliged to let the swarm escape. The bees did not remain long absent from their habitation; they quieted and returned as before. We remarked on the 20th that the royal cells had not been continued, as would have been the case in the ordinary state of things. A great tumult took place in the evening; the bees appeared to be in a delirium; we set them at liberty, and order was restored on their return. Their captivity having endured five days, we thought it needless to protract it farther; besides, we were desirous of knowing whether the brood was in a suitable condition, and if it had made the usual progress; and we wished also to try to discover what might be the cause of the periodical agitation of the bees. M. Burnens (the assistant of Huber), having exposed the two brood-combs, the royal cells were immediately recognised; but it was obvious that they had not been enlarged. Why should they? Neither eggs, grubs, nor that kind of paste peculiar to the individuals of their species were there! The other cells were vacant likewise; no brood, not an atom of paste, was in them. Thus, the worms had died of hunger. Had we precluded the bees from all means of sustenance by removing the farina? To decide this point, it was necessary to confide other brood to the care of the same insects, now giving them abundance of pollen. They had not been enabled to make any collections while we examined their combs. On this occasion they escaped in an apartment where the windows were shut; and after substituting young worms for those they had allowed to perish, we returned them to their prison. Next day we remarked that they had resumed courage; they had consolidated the combs, and remained on the brood. They were then provided with fragments of combs, where other workers had stored up farina; and to be able to observe what they did with it, we took this substance from some of their cells, and spread it on the board of the hive. The bees soon discovered both the farina in the combs and what we had exposed to them. They crowded to the cells, and also descending to the bottom of the hives, took the pollen grain by grain in their teeth, and conveyed it to their mouths. Those that had eaten it most greedily mounted the combs before the rest, and stopping on the cells of the young worms, inserted their heads, and remained there for a certain time. M. Burnens opened one of the divisions of the hive gently, and powdered the workers, for the purpose of recognising them when they should ascend the combs. He observed them during several hours, and by this means ascertained that they took so great a quantity of pollen only to impart it to their young. Then withdrawing the portions of comb which had been placed by us on the board of the hive, we saw that the pollen had been sensibly diminished in quantity. They were returned to the bees, to augment their provision still further, for the purpose of extending the experiment. The royal, as well as several common, cells were soon closed; and, on opening the hive, all the worms were found to have prospered. Some still had their food before them; the cells of others that had spun were shut with a waxen covering.
“We witnessed these facts repeatedly, and always with equal interest. They so decisively prove the regard of the bees towards the grubs which they are intrusted with rearing, that we shall not seek for any other explanation of their conduct. Another fact, no less extraordinary, and much more difficult to be accounted for, was exhibited by bees constrained to work in wax, several times successively, from the syrup of sugar. Towards the close of the experiment they ceased to feed the young, though in the beginning these had received the usual attention. They even frequently dragged them from their cells, and carried them out of the hive.”[AE]
Mr. Wiston, of Germantown, in the United States, mentions a fact conclusive on this subject. “I had,” says he, “a late swarm last summer, which, in consequence of the drought, filled only one box with honey. As it was late in the season, and the food collected would not enable the bees to subsist for the winter, I shut up the hive, and gave them half-a-pint of honey every day. They immediately set to work, filled the empty cells, and then constructed new cells enough to fill another box, in which they deposited the remainder of the honey.”
A more interesting proof is thus related by the same gentleman: “In the summer of 1824, I traced some wild bees, which had been feeding on the flowers in my meadow, to their home in the woods, and which I found in the body of an oak-tree, exactly fifty feet above the ground. Having caused the entrance to the hive to be closed by an expert climber, the limbs were separated in detail, until the trunk alone was left standing. To the upper extremity of this, a tackle-fall was attached so as to connect it with an adjacent tree, and, a saw being applied below, the naked trunk was cut through. When the immense weight was lowered nearly to the earth, the ropes broke, and the mass fell with a violent crash. The part of the tree which contained the hive, separated by the saw, was conveyed to my garden, and placed in a vertical position. On being released, the bees issued out by thousands, and though alarmed, soon became reconciled to the change of situation. By removing a part of the top of the block the interior of the hive was exposed to view, and the comb itself, nearly six feet in height, was observed to have fallen down two feet below the roof of the cavity. To repair the damage was the first object of the labourers: in doing which, a large part of their store of honey was expended, because it was at too late a season to obtain materials from abroad. In the following February these industrious but unfortunate insects issuing in a confused manner from the hive, fell dead in thousands around its entrance, the victims of a poverty created by their efforts to repair the ruins of their habitation.”[AF]
In another experiment, M. Huber confined a swarm so that they had access to nothing beside honey, and five times successively removed the combs with the precaution of preventing the escape of the bees from the apartment. On each occasion they produced new combs, which puts it beyond dispute that honey is sufficient to effect the secretion of wax without the aid of pollen. Instead of supplying the bees with honey, they were subsequently fed, exclusively, on pollen and fruit; but though they were kept in captivity for eight days under a bell-glass, with a comb containing nothing but farina, they neither made wax nor was any secreted under the rings. In another series of experiments, in which bees were fed with different sorts of sugar, it was found that nearly one-sixth of the sugar was converted into wax, dark-coloured sugar yielding more than double the quantity of refined sugar.
It may not be out of place to subjoin the few anatomical and physiological facts which have been ascertained by Huber, Maddle, Jurine, and Latreille.