Volume 2 — LETTER XVII.

SOCIETIES OF INSECTS CONTINUED.

PERFECT SOCIETIES. (White Ants and Ants.)

The associations of insects of which my last letter gave you a detail, were of a very imperfect kind, both as to their object and duration: but those which I am now to lay before you exhibit the semblance of a nearer approach, both in their principle and its results, to the societies of man himself. There are two kindred sentiments, that in these last act with most powerful energy—desire and affection.—From the first proceed many wants that cannot be satisfied without the intercourse, aid, and co-operation of others; and by the last we are impelled to seek the good of certain objects, and to delight in their society. Thus self-love combines with philanthropy to produce the social principle, both desire and love alternately urging us to an intercourse with each other; and from these in union originate the multiplication and preservation of the species. These two passions are the master-movers in this business; but there is a third subsidiary to them, which, though it trenches upon the social principle, considered abstractedly, is often a powerful bond of union in separate societies—you will readily perceive that I am speaking of fear;—under the influence of this passion these are drawn closer together, and unite more intimately for defence against some common enemy, and to raise works of munition that may resist his attack.

The main instrument of association is language, and no association can be perfect where there is not a common tongue. The origin of nationality was difference of speech: at Babel, when tongues were divided, nations separated. Language may be understood in a larger sense than to signify inflections of the voice,—it may well include all the means of making yourself understood by another, whether by gestures, sounds, signs, or words: the two first of these kinds may be called natural language, and the two last arbitrary or artificial.

I have said that perfect societies of insects exhibit the semblance of a nearer approach, both in their principle and its results, to the societies of man himself, because, unless we could perfectly understand what instinct is, and how it acts, we cannot, without exposing ourselves to the charge of temerity, assert that these are precisely the same.

But when we consider the object of these societies, the preservation and multiplication of the species; and the means by which that object is attained, the united labours and co-operation of perhaps millions of individuals, it seems as if they were impelled by passions very similar to those main-springs of human associations, which I have just enumerated. Desire appears to stimulate them—love to allure them—fear to alarm them. They want a habitation to reside in, and food for their subsistence. Does not this look as if desire were the operating cause, which induces them to unite their labours to construct the one and provide the other? Their nests contain a numerous family of helpless brood. Does not love here seem to urge them to that exemplary and fond attention, and those unremitted and indefatigable exertions manifested by the whole community for the benefit of these dear objects? Is it not also evidenced by their general and singular attachment to their females, by their mutual caresses, by their feeding each other, by their apparent sympathy with suffering individuals and endeavours to relieve them, by their readiness to help those that are in difficulty, and finally by their sports and assemblies for relaxation? That fear produces its influence upon them seems no less evident, when we see them, agitated by the approach of enemies, endeavour to remove what is most dear to them beyond their reach, unite their efforts to repel their attacks, and to construct works of defence. They appear to have besides a common language; for they possess the faculty, by significative gestures and sounds, of communicating their wants and ideas to each other[35].

There are, however, the following great differences between human societies and those of insects. Man is susceptible of individual attachment, which forms the basis of his happiness, and the source of his purest and dearest enjoyments:—whereas the love of insects seems to be a kind of instinctive patriotism that is extended to the whole community, never distinguishing individuals, unless, as in the instance of the female bee, connected with that great object.

Man also, endowed with reason, forms a judgement from circumstances, and by a variety of means can attain the same end. Besides the language of nature, gestures, and exclamations, which the passions produce, he is gifted with the divine faculty of speech, and can express his thoughts by articulate sounds or artificial language.—Not so our social insects. Every species has its peculiar mode of proceeding, to which it adheres as to the law of its nature, never deviating but under the control of imperious circumstances; for in particular instances, as you will see when I come to treat of their instincts, they know how to vary, though not very materially, from the usual mode[36]. But they never depart, like man, from the general system; and, in common with the rest of the animal kingdom, they have no articulate language.

Human associations, under the direction of reason and revelation, are also formed with higher views,—I mean as to government, morals, and religion:—with respect to the last of these, the social insects of course can have nothing to do, except that by their wonderful proceedings they give man an occasion of glorifying his great Creator; but in their instincts, extraordinary as it may seem, they exhibit a semblance of the two former, as will abundantly appear in the course of our correspondence.

I shall not detain you longer by prefatory remarks from the amusing scene to which I am eager to introduce you; but the following observations of M. P. Huber on this subject are so just and striking, that I cannot refrain from copying them.

"The history of insects that live in solitude consists of their generation, their peculiar habits, the metamorphoses they undergo; their manner of life under each successive form; the stratagems for the attack of their enemies, and the skill with which they construct their habitation: but that of insects which form numerous societies, is not confined to some remarkable proceedings, to some peculiar talent: it offers new relations, which arise from common interest; from the equality or superiority of rank; from the part which each member supports in the society;—and all these relations suppose a connexion between the different individuals of which it consists, that can scarcely exist but by the intervention of language: for such may be called every mode of expressing their wishes, their wants, and even their ideas, if that name may be given to the impulses of instinct. It would be difficult to explain in any other way that concurrence of all wills to one end, and that species of harmony which the whole of their institution exhibits."

The great end of the societies of insects being the rapid multiplication of the species, Providence has employed extraordinary means to secure the fulfilment of this object, by creating a particular order of individuals in each society, which, freed from sexual pursuits, may give themselves wholly to labour, and thus absolve the females from every employment but that of furnishing the society from time to time with a sufficient supply of eggs to keep up the population to its proper standard. In the case of the Termites, the office of working for the society, as these insects belong to an order whose metamorphosis is semi-complete, devolves upon the larvæ; the neuters, unless these should prove to be the larvæ of males, being the soldiers of the community.

From this circumstance perfect societies may be divided into two classes; the first including those whose workers are larvæ, and the second those whose workers are neuters[37]. The white ants belong to the former of these classes, and the social Hymenoptera to the latter.

Before I begin with the history of the societies of white ants, I must notice a remark that has been made applying to societies in general—that numbers are essential to the full development of the instinct of social animals. This has been observed by Bonnet with respect to the beaver[38]; by Reaumur of the hive-bee; and by M. P. Huber of the humble-bee[39]. Amongst hymenopterous social insects, however, the observation seems not universally applicable, but only under particular circumstances; for in incipient societies of ants, humble-bees, and wasps, one female lays the foundations of them at first by herself; and the first brood of neuters that is hatched is very small.

I have on a former occasion given you some account of the devastation produced by the white ants, or Termites, the species of which constitute the first class of perfect societies[40]; I shall now relate to you some further particulars of their history, which will, I hope, give you a better opinion of them.

The majority of these animals are natives of tropical countries, though two species are indigenous to Europe; one of which, thought to have been imported, is come so near to us as Bourdeaux. The fullest account hitherto given of their history is that of Mr. Smeathman, in the Philosophical Transactions for 1781; which, since it has in many particulars been confirmed by the observations of succeeding naturalists, though in some things he was evidently mistaken, I shall abridge for you, correcting him where he appears to be in error, and adding from Latreille, and the MS. of a French naturalist resident on the spot, kindly furnished by Professor Hooker, what they have observed with respect to those of Bourdeaux and Ceylon. The white ants, though they belong to the Neuroptera order, borrow their instinct from the hymenopterous social tribes, and in conjunction with the ants (Formica) connect the two orders. Their societies consist of five different descriptions of individuals—workers or larvæ—nymphs or pupæ—neuters or soldiers—males and females.

1. The workers or larvæ, answering to the hymenopterous neuters, are the most numerous and at the same time most active part of the community; upon whom devolves the office of erecting and repairing the buildings, collecting provisions, attending upon the female, conveying the eggs when laid to what Smeathman calls the nurseries, and feeding the young larvæ till they are old enough to take care of themselves. They are distinguished from the soldiers by their diminutive size, by their round heads and shorter mandibles.

2. The nymphs or pupæ. These were not noticed by Smeathman, who mistook the neuters for them:—they differ in nothing from the larvæ, and probably are equally active, except that they have rudiments of wings, or rather the wings folded up in cases (Pterothecæ). They were first observed by Latreille; nor did they escape the author of the MS. above alluded to, who mistook them for a different kind of larvæ.

3. The neuters, erroneously called by Smeathman pupæ. These are much less numerous than the workers, bearing the proportion of one to one hundred, and exceeding them greatly in bulk. They are also distinguishable by their long and large head, armed with very long subulate mandibles. Their office is that of sentinels; and when the nest is attacked, to them is committed the task of defending it. These neuters are quite unlike those in the Hymenoptera perfect societies, which seem to be a kind of abortive females, and there is nothing analogous to them in any other department of Entomology.

4. and 5. Males and females, or the insects arrived at their state of perfection, and capable of continuing the species. There is only one of each in every separate society; they are exempted from all participation in the labours and employments occupying the rest of the community, that they may be wholly devoted to the furnishing of constant accessions to the population of the colony. Though at their first disclosure from the pupa they have four wings, like the female ants they soon cast them; but they may then be distinguished from the blind larvæ, pupæ, and neuters, by their large and prominent eyes[41].

The first establishment of a colony of Termites takes place in the following manner. In the evening, soon after the first tornado, which at the latter end of the dry season proclaims the approach of the ensuing rains, these animals, having attained to their perfect state, in which they are furnished and adorned with two pair of wings, emerge from their clay-built citadels by myriads and myriads to seek their fortune. Borne on these ample wings, and carried by the wind, they fill the air, entering the houses, extinguishing the lights, and even sometimes being driven on board the ships that are not far from the shore. The next morning they are discovered covering the surface of the earth and waters: deprived of the wings which before enabled them to avoid their numerous enemies, and which are only calculated to carry them a few hours, and looking like large maggots; from the most active, industrious, and rapacious, they are now become the most helpless and cowardly beings in nature, and the prey of innumerable enemies, to the smallest of which they make not the least resistance. Insects, especially ants, which are always on the hunt for them, leaving no place unexplored; birds, reptiles, beasts, and even man himself, look upon this event as their harvest, and, as you have been told before, make them their food; so that scarcely a single pair in many millions get into a place of safety, fulfill the first law of nature, and lay the foundation of a new community. At this time they are seen running upon the ground, the male after the female, and sometimes two chasing one, and contending with great eagerness, regardless of the innumerable dangers that surround them, who shall win the prize.

The workers, who are continually prowling about in their covered ways, occasionally meet with one of these pairs, and, being impelled by their instinct, pay them homage, and they are elected as it were to be king and queen, or rather father and mother, of a new colony[42]: all that are not so fortunate, inevitably perish; and, considering the infinite host of their enemies, probably in the course of the following day. The workers, as soon as this election takes place, begin to inclose their new rulers in a small chamber of clay, before described[43], suited to their size, the entrances to which are only large enough to admit themselves and the neuters, but much too small for the royal pair to pass through;—so that their state of royalty is a state of confinement, and so continues during the remainder of their existence. The impregnation of the female is supposed to take place after this confinement, and she soon begins to furnish the infant colony with new inhabitants. The care of feeding her and her male companion devolves upon the industrious larvæ, who supply them both with every thing that they want. As she increases in dimensions, they keep enlarging the cell in which she is detained. When the business of oviposition commences, they take the eggs from the female, and deposit them in the nurseries[44]. Her abdomen now begins gradually to extend, till in process of time it is enlarged to 1500 or 2000 times the size of the rest of her body, and her bulk equals that of 20,000 or 30,000 workers. This part, often more than three inches in length, is now a vast matrix of eggs, which make long circumvolutions through numberless slender serpentine vessels:—it is also remarkable for its peristaltic motion, (in this resembling the female ant[45],) which, like the undulations of water, produces a perpetual and successive rise and fall over the whole surface of the abdomen, and occasions a constant extrusion of the eggs, amounting sometimes in old females to sixty in a minute, or eighty thousand and upwards in twenty-four hours[46]. As these females live two years in their perfect state, how astonishing must be the number produced in that time!

This incessant extrusion of eggs must call for the attention of a large number of the workers in the royal chamber (and indeed it is always full of them), to take them as they come forth and carry them to the nurseries; in which, when hatched, they are provided with food, and receive every necessary attention till they are able to shift for themselves.—One remarkable circumstance attends these nurseries—they are always covered with a kind of mould, amongst which arise numerous globules about the size of a small pin's head. This is probably a species of Mucor; and by Mr. König, who found them also in nests of an East-Indian species of Termes, is conjectured to be the food of the larvæ.

The royal cell has besides some soldiers in it, a kind of body guard to the royal pair that inhabit it; and the surrounding apartments contain always many both labourers and soldiers in waiting, that they may successively attend upon and defend the common father and mother, on whose safety depend the happiness and even existence of the whole community; and whom these faithful subjects never abandon even in the last distress.

The manner in which the Termites feed the young brood, before they commence their active life and are admitted to share in the labours of the nest, has not, as far as I know, been recorded by any writer: I shall therefore leave them in their nurseries, and introduce you to the bustling scene which these creatures exhibit in their first state after they are become useful. To do this, in vain should I carry you to one of their nests—you would scarcely see a single one stirring—though, perhaps, under your feet there would be millions going and returning by a thousand different ways. Unless I possessed the power of Asmodeus in Le Diable Boiteux, of showing you their houses and covered ways with their roofs removed, you would return home as wise as you came; for these little busy creatures are taught by Providence always to work under cover. If they have to travel over a rock or up a tree, they vault with a coping of earth the route they mean to pursue, and they form subterranean paths and tunnels, some of a diameter wider than the bore of a large cannon, on all sides from their habitation to their various objects of attack; or which sloping down (for they cannot well mount a surface quite perpendicular) penetrate to the depth of three or four feet under their nests into the earth, till they arrive at a soil proper to be used in the erection of their buildings. Were they, indeed, to expose themselves, the race would soon be annihilated by their innumerable enemies. This circumstance has deceived the author of the MS. account of those in Ceylon, who, speaking of the nests of these insects in that island, which he describes as twelve feet high, observes, that "they may be considered as a large city, which contains a great number of houses, and these houses an infinite number of cells or apartments:——these cells appear to me to communicate with each other, but not the houses. I have convinced myself, by bringing together the broken walls of one of the cavities of the nest or cone, that it does not communicate with any other, nor with the exterior of the cone—a very curious circumstance, which I will not undertake to explain. Other cavities communicate by a very narrow tunnel." By not looking for subterranean communications, he was probably led into this error.

You have before heard of their diligence in building. Does any accident happen to their various structures, or are they dislodged from any of their covered ways, they are still more active and expeditious in repairing. Getting out of sight as soon as possible,—and they run as fast or faster than any insect of their size,—in a single night they will restore a gallery of three or four yards in length. If, attacking the nest, you divide it in halves, leaving the royal chamber, and thus lay open thousands of apartments, all will be shut up with their sheets of clay by the next morning;—nay, even if the whole be demolished, provided the king and the queen be left, every interstice between the ruins, at which either cold or wet can possibly enter, will be covered, and in a year the building will be raised nearly to its pristine size and grandeur.

Besides building and repairing, a great deal of their time is occupied in making necessary alterations in their mansion and its approaches. The royal presence-chamber, as the female increases in size, must be gradually enlarged, the nurseries must be removed to a greater distance, the chambers and exterior of the nest receive daily accessions to provide for a daily increasing population—and the direction of their covered ways must often be varied, when the old stock of provision is exhausted and new discovered.

The collection of provisions for the use of the colony is another employment, which necessarily calls for incessant attention: these to the naked eye appear like raspings of wood;—and they are, as you have seen, great destroyers of timber, whether wrought or unwrought:—but when examined by the microscope, they are found to consist chiefly of gums and the inspissated juices of plants, which, formed into little masses, are stored up in magazines made of clay.

When any one is bold enough to attack their nest and make a breach in its walls, the labourers, who are incapable of fighting, retire within, and give place to another description of its inhabitants, whose office it is to defend the fortress when assailed by enemies:—these, as observed before, are the neuters or soldiers. If the breach be made in a slight part of the building, one of these comes out to reconnoitre; he then retires and gives the alarm. Two or three others next appear, scrambling as fast as they can one after the other;—to these succeed a large body, who rush forth with as much speed as the breach will permit, their numbers continually increasing during the attack. It is not easy to describe the rage and fury by which these diminutive heroes seem actuated. In their haste they frequently miss their hold, and tumble down the sides of their hill: they soon, however, recover themselves, and, being blind, bite every thing they run against. If the attack proceeds, the bustle and agitation increase to a ten-fold degree, and their fury is raised to its highest pitch. Wo to him whose hands or legs they can come at! for they will make their fanged jaws meet at the very first stroke, drawing as much blood as will counterpoise their whole body, and never quitting their hold, even though they are pulled limb from limb. The naked legs of the Negroes expose them frequently to this injury; and the stockings of the European are not sufficient to defend him.

On the other hand, if, after the first attack, you get a little out of the way, giving them no further interruption, supposing the assailant of their citadel is gone beyond their reach, in less than half an hour they will retire into the nest; and before they have all entered, you will see the labourers in motion, hastening in various directions towards the breach, every one carrying in his mouth a mass of mortar half as big as his body[47], ready tempered:—this mortar is made of the finer parts of the gravel, which they probably select in the subterranean pits or passages before described, which, worked up to a proper consistence, hardens to the solid substance resembling stone, of which their nests are constructed. As fast as they come up, each sticks its burthen upon the breach; and this is done with so much regularity and dispatch, that although thousands, nay millions, are employed, they never appear to embarrass or interrupt one another. By the united labours of such an infinite host of creatures the wall soon rises and the breach is repaired.

While the labourers are thus employed, almost all the soldiers have retired quite out of sight, except here and there one, who saunters about amongst them, but never assists in the work. One in particular places himself close to the wall which they are building; and turning himself leisurely on all sides, as if to survey the proceedings, appears to act the part of an overseer of the works. Every now and then, at the interval of a minute or two, by lifting up his head and striking with his forceps upon the wall of the nest, he makes a particular noise, which is answered by a loud hiss from all the labourers, and appears to be a signal for dispatch; for, every time it is heard, they may be seen to redouble their pace, and apply to their work with increased diligence. Renew the attack, and this amusing scene will be repeated:—in rush the labourers, all disappearing in a few seconds, and out march the military as numerous and vindictive as before.—When all is once more quiet, the busy labourers reappear, and resume their work, and the soldiers vanish. Repeat the experiment a hundred times, and the same will always be the result;—you will never find, be the peril or emergency ever so great, that one order attempts to fight, or the other to work.

You have seen how solicitous the Termites are to move and work under cover and concealed from observation; this, however, is not always the case;—there is a species larger than T. bellicosus, whose proceedings I have been principally describing, which Mr. Smeathman calls the marching Termes (Termes Viarum). He was once passing through a thick forest, when on a sudden a loud hiss, like that of serpents, struck him with alarm. The next step produced a repetition of the sound, which he then recognised to be that of white ants; yet he was surprised at seeing none of their hills or covered ways. Following the noise, to his great astonishment and delight he saw an army of these creatures emerging from a hole in the ground; their number was prodigious, and they marched with the utmost celerity. When they had proceeded about a yard they divided into two columns, chiefly composed of labourers, about fifteen abreast, following each other in close order, and going straight forward. Here and there was seen a soldier, carrying his vast head with apparent difficulty, and looking like an ox in a flock of sheep, who marched on in the same manner. At the distance of a foot or two from the columns many other soldiers were to be seen, standing still or pacing about as if upon the look-out, lest some enemy should suddenly surprise their unwarlike comrades;—other soldiers, which was the most extraordinary and amusing part of the scene, having mounted some plants and placed themselves on the points of their leaves, elevated from ten to fifteen inches from the ground, hung over the army marching below, and by striking their forceps upon the leaf, produced at intervals the noise before mentioned. To this signal the whole army returned a hiss, and obeyed it by increasing their pace. The soldiers at these signal-stations sat quite still during the intervals of silence, except now and then making a slight turn of the head, and seemed as solicitous to keep their posts as regular sentinels. The two columns of this army united after continuing separate for twelve or fifteen paces, having in no part been above three yards asunder, and then descended into the earth by two or three holes. Mr. Smeathman continued watching them for above an hour, during which time their numbers appeared neither to increase nor diminish:—the soldiers, however, who quitted the line of march and acted as sentinels, became much more numerous before he quitted the spot. The larvæ and neuters of this species are furnished with eyes.

The societies of Termes lucifugus, discovered by Latreille at Bourdeaux, are very numerous; but instead of erecting artificial nests, they make their lodgement in the trunks of pines and oaks, where the branches diverge from the tree. They eat the wood the nearest the bark, or the alburnum, without attacking the interior, and bore a vast number of holes and irregular galleries. That part of the wood appears moist, and is covered with little gelatinous particles, not unlike gum-arabic. These insects seem to be furnished with an acid of a very penetrating odour, which perhaps is useful to them for softening the wood[48]. The soldiers in these societies are as about one to twenty-five of the labourers[49]. The anonymous author of the observations on the Termites of Ceylon seems to have discovered a sentry-box in his nests. "I found," says he, "in a very small cell in the middle of the solid mass, (a cell about half an inch in height, and very narrow,) a larva with an enormous head.—Two of these individuals were in the same cell:—one of the two seemed placed as sentinel at the entrance of the cell. I amused myself by forcing the door two or three times;—the sentinel immediately appeared, and only retreated when the door was on the point to be stopped up, which was done in three minutes by the labourers."

I hope this account has reconciled you in some degree to the destructive Termites:—I shall next introduce you to social insects, concerning most of which you have probably conceived a more favourable opinion;—I mean those which constitute the second class of perfect societies, whose workers are not larvæ, but neuters. These all belong to the Hymenoptera order of Linné:—there are four kinds of insects in this order, (which you will find as fertile in the instructors of mankind, as you have seen it to be in our benefactors,) that, varying considerably from each other in their proceedings as social animals, separately merit your attention: namely, ants, wasps and hornets, humble-bees, and the hive-bee. I begin with the first.

Full of interesting traits as are the history and economy of the white-ants, and however earnestly they may induce you to wish you could be a spectator of them, yet they scarcely exceed those of an industrious tribe of insects, which are constantly passing under our eye. The ant has attracted universal notice, and been celebrated from the earliest ages, both by sacred and profane writers, as a pattern of prudence, foresight, wisdom, and diligence. Upon Solomon's testimony in their favour I have enlarged before; and for those of other ancient writers, I must refer you to the learned Bochart, who has collected them in his Hierozoicon.

In reading what the ancients say on this subject, we must be careful, however, to separate truth from error, or we shall attribute much more to ants than of right belongs to them. Who does not smile when he reads of ants that emulate the wolf in size, the dog in shape, the lion in its feet, and the leopard in its skin; ants, whose employment is to mine for gold, and from whose vengeance the furtive Indian is constrained to fly on the swift camel's back[50]? But when we find the writers of all nations and ages unite in affirming, that, having deprived it of the power of vegetating, ants store up grain in their nests, we feel disposed to give larger credit to an assertion, which, at first sight, seems to savour more of fact than of fable, and does not attribute more sagacity and foresight to these insects than in other instances they are found to possess. Writers in general, therefore, who have considered this subject, and some even of very late date, have taken it for granted that the ancients were correct in this notion. But when observers of nature began to examine the manners and economy of these creatures more narrowly, it was found, at least with respect to the European species of ants, that no such hoards of grain were made by them, and, in fact, that they had no magazines in their nests in which provisions of any kind were stored up. It was therefore surmised that the ancients, observing them carry about their pupæ, which in shape, size, and colour, not a little resemble a grain of corn, and the ends of which they sometimes pull open to let out the inclosed insect, mistook the one for the other, and this action for depriving the grain of the corculum. Mr. Gould, our countryman, was one of the first historians of the ant, who discovered that they did not store up corn; and since his time naturalists have generally subscribed to that opinion.

Till the manners of exotic ants are more accurately explored, it would, however, be rash to affirm that no ants have magazines of provisions; for although, during the cold of our winters in this country, they remain in a state of torpidity, and have no need of food, yet in warmer regions, during the rainy seasons, when they are probably confined to their nests, a store of provisions may be necessary for them. Even in northern climates, against wet seasons, they may provide in this way for their sustenance and that of the young brood, which, as Mr. Smeathman observes, are very voracious, and cannot bear to be long deprived of their food; else why do ants carry worms, living insects, and many other such things into their nests? Solomon's lesson to the sluggard has been generally adduced as a strong confirmation of the ancient opinion: it can, however, only relate to the species of a warm climate, the habits of which, as I have just observed, are probably different from those of a cold one;—so that his words, as commonly interpreted, may be perfectly correct and consistent with nature, and yet be not at all applicable to the species that are indigenous to Europe. But I think, if Solomon's words are properly considered, it will be found that this interpretation has been fathered upon them, rather than fairly deduced from them. He does not affirm that the ant which he proposes to his sluggard as an example, laid up in her magazines stores of grain: "Go to the ant thou sluggard, consider her ways and be wise; which, having neither captain, overseer, nor ruler, prepares her bread in the summer, and gathers her food in the harvest." These words may very well be interpreted simply to mean, that the ant, with commendable prudence and foresight, makes use of the proper seasons to collect a supply of provision sufficient for her purposes. There is not a word in them implying that she stores up grain or other provision. She prepares her bread, and gathers her food,—namely, such food as is suited to her,—in summer and harvest,—that is, when it is most plentiful,—and thus shows her wisdom and prudence by using the advantages offered to her. The words thus interpreted, which they may be without any violence, will apply to our European species as well as to those that are not indigenous.

I shall now bid farewell to the ancients, and proceed to lay before you what the observations of modern authors have enabled me to add to the history of ants:—the principal of these are Leeuwenhoek, Swammerdam (who was the first that had recourse to artificial means for observing their proceedings), Linné, Bonnet, and especially the illustrious Swedish entomologist De Geer. Gould also, who, though no systematical naturalist, was a man of sense and observation, has thrown great light upon the history of ants, and anticipated several of what are accounted the discoveries of more modern writers on this subject[51]. Latreille's Natural History of Ants is likewise extremely valuable, not only as giving a systematic arrangement and descriptions of the species, but as concentrating the accounts of preceding authors, and adding several interesting facts ex proprio penu. The great historiographer of ants, however, is M. P. Huber; who has lately published a most admirable and interesting work upon them, in which he has far outstripped all his predecessors.—Such are the sources from which the following account of ants is principally drawn, intermixed with which you will find some occasional observations,—which your partiality to your friend may, perhaps, induce you to think not wholly devoid of interest,—that it has been my fortune to make.

The societies of ants, as also of other Hymenoptera, differ from those of the Termites in having inactive larvæ and pupæ, the neuters or workers combining in themselves both the military and civil functions. Besides the helpless larvæ and pupæ, which have no locomotive powers, these societies consist of females, males, and workers. The office of the females, at their first exclusion distinguished by a pair of ample wings, (which however, as you have heard, they soon cast,) is the foundation of new colonies, and the furnishing of a constant supply of eggs for the maintenance of the population in the old nests as well as in the new. These are usually the least numerous part of the community[52]. The office of the males, which are also winged, and at the time of swarming are extremely numerous, is merely the impregnation of the females: after the season for this is passed, they die. Upon the workers[53] devolves, except in nascent colonies, all the work, as well as the defence of the community, of which they are the most numerous portion. In some societies of ants the workers are of two dimensions.—In the nests of F. rufa and flava such were observed by Gould, the size of one exceeding that of the other about one third[54]. (In my specimens, the large workers of F. rufa are nearly three times, and of F. flava twice, the size of the small ones.) All were equally engaged in the labours of the colony. Large workers were also noticed by M. P. Huber in the nests of Polyergus rufescens[55], but he could not ascertain their office.

Having introduced you to the individuals of which the associations of ants consist, I shall now advert to the principal events of their history, relating first the fates of the males and females. In the warm days that occur from the end of July to the beginning of September, and sometimes later, the habitations of the various species of ants may be seen to swarm with winged insects, which are the males and females, preparing to quit for ever the scene of their nativity and education. Every thing is in motion—and the silver wings contrasted with the jet bodies which compose the animated mass, add a degree of splendour to the interesting scene. The bustle increases, till at length the males rise, as it were by a general impulse, into the air, and the females accompany them. The whole swarm alternately rises and falls with a slow movement to the height of about ten feet, the males flying obliquely with a rapid zigzag motion, and the females, though they follow the general movement of the column, appearing suspended in the air, like balloons, seemingly with no individual motion, and having their heads turned towards the wind.

Sometimes the swarms of a whole district unite their infinite myriads, and, seen at a distance, produce an effect resembling the flashing of an aurora borealis. Rising with incredible velocity in distinct columns, they soar above the clouds. Each column looks like a kind of slender net-work, and has a tremulous undulating motion, which has been observed to be produced by the regular alternate rising and falling just alluded to. The noise emitted by myriads and myriads of these creatures does not exceed the hum of a single wasp. The slightest zephyr disperses them; and if in their progress they chance to be over your head, if you walk slowly on, they will accompany you, and regulate their motions by yours. The females continue sailing majestically in the centre of these numberless males, who are all candidates for their favour, each till some fortunate lover darts upon her, and, as the Roman youth did the Sabine virgins, drags his bride from the sportive crowd, and the nuptials are consummated in mid-air; though sometimes the union takes place on the summit of plants, but rarely in the nests[56]. After this danse de l'amour is celebrated, the males disappear, probably dying, or becoming, with many of the females, the prey of birds or fish[57]; for, since they do not return to the nest, they cannot be destroyed, as some have supposed, like the drone bees, by the neuters. That many, both males and females, become the prey of fish, I am enabled to assert from my own observation.—In the beginning of August 1812, I was going up the Orford river in Suffolk, in a row-boat, in the evening, when my attention was caught by an infinite number of winged ants, both males and females, at which the fish were every where darting, floating alive upon the surface of the water. While passing the river, these had probably been precipitated into it, either by the wind, or by a heavy shower which had just fallen. And M. Huber after the same event observed the earth strewed with females that had lost their wings, all of which could not form colonies[58].

Captain Haverfield, R. N. gave me an account of an extraordinary appearance of ants observed by him in the Medway, in the autumn of 1814, when he was first-lieutenant of the Clorinde—which is confirmed by the following letter addressed by the surgeon of that ship, now Dr. Bromley, to Mr. MacLeay:

"In September 1814, being on the deck of the hulk to the Clorinde, my attention was drawn to the water by the first-lieutenant (Haverfield) observing there was something black floating down with the tide. On looking with a glass, I discovered they were insects.—The boat was sent, and brought a bucket full of them on board;—they proved to be a large species of ant, and extended from the upper part of Salt-pan reach out towards the Great Nore, a distance of five or six miles. The column appeared to be in breadth eight or ten feet, and in height about six inches, which I suppose must have been from their resting one upon another." Purchas seems to have witnessed a similar phenomenon on shore. "Other sorts (of ants)," says he, "there are many, of which some become winged and fill the air with swarms, which sometimes happens in England. On Bartholomew 1613 I was in the island of Foulness on our Essex shore, where were such clouds of these flying pismires, that we could no where fly from them, but they filled our clothes; yea the floors of some houses where they fell were in a manner covered with a black carpet of creeping ants; which they say drown themselves about that time of the year in the sea[59]."

These ants were winged:—whence, in the first instance here related, this immense column came was not ascertained. From the numbers here agglomerated, one would think that all the ant-hills of the counties of Kent and Surrey could scarcely have furnished a sufficient number of males and females to form it.

When Colonel Sir Augustus Frazer, of the Horse Artillery, was surveying on the 6th of October 1813 the scene of the battle of the Pyrenees from the summit of the mountain called Pena de Aya, or Les Quatre Couronnes, he and his friends were enveloped by a swarm of ants, so numerous as entirely to intercept their view, so that they were glad to remove to another station, in order to get rid of them.

The females that escape from the injury of the elements and their various enemies, become the founders of new colonies, doing all the work, as I have related in a former letter, that is usually done by the neuters[60]. M. P. Huber has found incipient colonies, in which were only a few workers engaged with their mother in the care of a small number of larvæ; and M. Perrot, his friend, once discovered a small nest, occupied by a solitary female, who was attending upon four pupæ only. Such is the foundation and first establishment of those populous nations of ants with which we every where meet.

But though the majority of females produced in a nest probably thus desert it, all are not allowed this liberty. The prudent workers are taught by their instinct that the existence of their community depends upon the presence of a sufficient number of females. Some therefore that are fecundated in or near the spot they forcibly detain, pulling off their wings, and keeping them prisoners till they are ready to lay their eggs, or are reconciled to their fate. De Geer in a nest of F. rufa observed that the workers compelled some females that were come out of the nest, to re-enter it[61]; and from M. P. Huber we learn that, being seized at the moment of fecundation, they are conducted into the interior of the formicary, when they become entirely dependent upon the neuters, who hanging pertinaciously to each leg prevent their going out, but at the same time attend upon them with the greatest care, feeding them regularly, and conducting them where the temperature is suitable to them, but never quitting them a single moment. By degrees these females become reconciled to their fate, and lose all desire of making their escape;—their abdomen enlarges, and they are no longer detained as prisoners, yet each is still attended by a body-guard—a single ant, which always accompanies her, and prevents her wants.—Its station is remarkable, it being mounted upon her abdomen, with its posterior legs upon the ground. These sentinels are constantly relieved: and to watch the moment when the female begins the important work of oviposition, and carry off the eggs, of which she lays four or five thousand or more in the course of the year, seems to be their principal office.

When the female is acknowledged as a mother, the workers begin to pay her a homage very similar to that which the bees render to their queen. All press round her, offer her food, conduct her by her mandibles through the difficult or steep passages of the formicary; nay, they sometimes even carry her about their city;—she is then suspended upon their jaws, the ends of which are crossed; and, being coiled up like the tongue of a butterfly, she is packed so close as to incommode the carrier but little. When she sets her down, others surround and caress her, one after another tapping her on the head with their antennæ. "In whatever apartment," says Gould, "a queen condescends to be present, she commands obedience and respect. An universal gladness spreads itself through the whole cell, which is expressed by particular acts of joy and exultation. They have a particular way of skipping, leaping, and standing upon their hind-legs, and prancing with the others. These frolics they make use of, both to congratulate each other when they meet, and to show their regard for the queen; some of them gently walk over her, others dance round her; she is generally encircled with a cluster of attendants, who, if you separate them from her, soon collect themselves into a body, and inclose her in the midst[62]." Nay, even if she dies, as if they were unwilling to believe it, they continue sometimes for months the same attentions to her, and treat her with the same courtly formality as if she were alive, and they will brush her and lick her incessantly[63].

This homage paid by the workers to their queens, according to Gould, is temporary and local;—when she has laid eggs in any cell, their attentions, he observed, seemed to relax, and she became unsettled and uneasy. In the summer months she is to be met with in various apartments in the colony; and eggs also are to be seen in several places, which induced him to believe that, having deposited a parcel in one, she retires to another for the same purpose, thus frequently changing her situation and attendants. As there are always a number of lodgements void of eggs but full of ants, she is never at a loss for an agreeable station and submissive retinue: and by the time she has gone her rounds in this manner, the eggs first laid are brought to perfection, and her old attendants are glad to receive her again. Yet this inattention after oviposition is not invariable; the female and neuters sometimes unite together in the same cell after the eggs are laid. On this occasion the workers divide their attention; and if you disturb them, some will run to the defence of their queen, as well as of the eggs, which last, however, are the great objects of their solicitude. This statement differs somewhat from M. Huber's; but different species vary in their instincts, which will account for this and similar dissonances in authors who have observed their proceedings. Mr. Gould also noticed but very few females in ant-nests, sometimes only one; but M. Huber, who had better opportunities, found several, which he says live very peaceably together, showing none of that spirit of rivalry so remarkable in the queen bee.

And here I must close my narrative of the life and adventures of male and female ants; but, as it will be followed by a history of the still more interesting proceedings of the workers, I think you will not regret the exchange. I shall show these to you in many different views, under each of which you will find fresh reason to admire them and their wonderful instincts. My only fear will be lest you should think the picture too highly coloured, and deem it incredible that creatures so minute should so far exceed the larger animals in wisdom, foresight, and sagacity, and make so near an approach in these respects to man himself.—My facts, however, are derived from authorities so respectable, that I think they will do away any bias of this kind that you may feel in your mind[64].

I need not here repeat what I have said in a former letter concerning the exemplary attention paid by these kind foster-mothers to the young brood of their colonies; nor shall I enlarge upon the building and nature of their habitations, which have been already noticed[65]:—but, without either of these, I have matter enough to fill the rest of this letter with interesting traits, while I endeavour to teach you their language, to develop their affections and passions, and to delineate their virtues;—while I show them to you when engaged in war, and enable you to accompany them both in their military expeditions and in their emigrations,—while I make you a witness of their indefatigable industry and incessant labours,—or invite you to be present, during their hours of relaxation, at their sports and amusements.

That ants, though they are mute animals, have the means of communicating to each other information of various occurrences, and use a kind of language which is mutually understood, will appear evident from the following facts.

If those at the surface of a nest are alarmed, it is wonderful in how short a time the alarm spreads through the whole nest. It runs from quarter to quarter; the greatest inquietude seems to possess the community; and they carry with all possible dispatch their treasures, the larvæ and pupæ, down to the lowest apartments. Amongst those species of ants that do not go much from home, sentinels seem to be stationed at the avenues of their city. Disturbing once the little heaps of earth thrown up at the entrances into the nest of F. flava, which is of this description, I was struck by observing a single ant immediately come out, as if to see what was the matter, and this three separate times.

The F. herculanea inhabits the trunks of hollow trees on the continent, for it has not yet been found in England, upon which they are often passing to and fro. M. Huber observed, that when he disturbed those that were at the greatest distance from the rest, they ran towards them, and, striking their head against them, communicated their cause of fear or anger,—that these, in their turn, conveyed in the same way the intelligence to others, till the whole colony was in a ferment, those neuters which were within the tree running out in crowds to join their companions in the defence of their habitation. The same signals that excited the courage of the neuters produced fear in the males and females, which, as soon as the news of the danger was thus communicated to them, retreated into the tree as to an asylum.

The legs of one of this gentleman's artificial formicaries were plunged into pans of water, to prevent the escape of the ants;—this proved a source of great enjoyment to these little beings, for they are a very thirsty race, and lap water like dogs[66]. One day, when he observed many of them tippling very merrily, he was so cruel as to disturb them, which sent most of the ants in a fright to the nest; but some more thirsty than the rest continued their potations. Upon this, one of those that had retreated returns to inform his thoughtless companions of their danger; one he pushes with his jaws; another he strikes first upon the belly, and then upon the breast; and so obliges three of them to leave off their carousing, and march homewards; but the fourth, more resolute to drink it out, is not to be discomfited, and pays not the least regard to the kind blows with which his compeer, solicitous for his safety, repeatedly belabours him:—at length, determined to have his way, he seizes him by one of his hind-legs, and gives him a violent pull:—upon this, leaving his liquor, the loiterer turns round, and opening his threatening jaws with every appearance of anger, goes very coolly to drinking again; but his monitor, without further ceremony, rushing before him, seizes him by his jaws, and at last drags him off in triumph to the formicary[67].

The language of ants, however, is not confined merely to giving intelligence of the approach or presence of danger; it is also co-extensive with all their other occasions for communicating their ideas to each other.

Some, whose extraordinary history I shall soon relate to you, engage in military expeditions, and often previously send out spies to collect information. These, as soon as they return from exploring the vicinity, enter the nest; upon which, as if they had communicated their intelligence, the army immediately assembles in the suburbs of their city, and begins its march towards that quarter whence the spies had arrived. Upon the march, communications are perpetually making between the van and the rear; and when arrived at the camp of the enemy, and the battle begins, if necessary, couriers are dispatched to the formicary for reinforcements[68].

If you scatter the ruins of an ant's nest in your apartment, you will be furnished with another proof of their language. The ants will take a thousand different paths, each going by itself, to increase the chance of discovery; they will meet and cross each other in all directions, and perhaps will wander long before they can find a spot convenient for their reunion. No sooner does any one discover a little chink in the floor, through which it can pass below, than it returns to its companions, and, by means of certain motions of its antennæ, makes some of them comprehend what route they are to pursue to find it, sometimes even accompanying them to the spot; these, in their turn, become the guides of others, till all know which way to direct their steps[69].

It is well known also, that ants give each other information when they have discovered any store of provision. Bradley relates a striking instance of this. A nest of ants in a nobleman's garden discovered a closet, many yards within the house, in which conserves were kept, which they constantly attended till the nest was destroyed. Some in their rambles must have first discovered this depôt of sweets, and informed the rest of it. It is remarkable that they always went to it by the same track, scarcely varying an inch from it, though they had to pass through two apartments; nor could the sweeping and cleaning of the rooms discomfit them, or cause them to pursue a different route[70].

Here may be related a very amusing experiment of Gould's. Having deposited several colonies of ants (F. fusca) in flower-pots, he placed them in some earthen pans full of water, which prevented then from making excursions from their nest. When they had been accustomed some days to this imprisonment, he fastened small threads to the upper part of the pots, and extending them over the water pans fixed them in the ground. The sagacious ants soon found out that by these bridges they could escape from their moated castle. The discovery was communicated to the whole society, and in a short time the threads were filled with trains of busy workers passing to and fro[71].

Ligon's account of the ants in Barbadoes affords another most convincing proof of this:—as he has told his tale in a very lively and interesting manner, I shall give it nearly in his own words.

"The next of these moving little animals are ants or pismires; and these are but of a small size, but great in industry; and that which gives them means to attain to this end is, they have all one soul. If I should say they are here or there, I should do them wrong, for they are every where; under ground, where any hollow or loose earth is; amongst the roots of trees; upon the bodies, branches, leaves and fruit of all trees; in all places without the houses and within; upon the sides, walls, windows, and roofs without; and on the floors, side walls, ceilings, and windows within; tables, cupboards, beds, stools, all are covered with them, so that they are a kind of ubiquitaries.——We sometimes kill a cockroach, and throw him on the ground; and mark what they will do with him: his body is bigger than a hundred of them, and yet they will find the means to take hold of him, and lift him up; and having him above ground, away they carry him, and some go by as ready assistants, if any be weary; and some are the officers that lead and show the way to the hole into which he must pass; and if the vancouriers perceive that the body of the cockroach lies across, and will not pass through the hole or arch through which they mean to carry him, order is given, and the body turned endwise, and this is done a foot before they come to the hole, and that without any stop or stay; and this is observable, that they never pull contrary ways.—A table being cleared with great care, by way of experiment, of all the ants that were upon it, and some sugar being put upon it, some, after a circuitous route, were observed to arrive at it, when again departing without tasting the treasure, they hastened away to inform their friends of their discovery, who upon this came by myriads;—and when they are thickest upon the table," says he, "clap a large book (or any thing fit for that purpose) upon them, so hard as to kill all that are under it; and when you have done so, take away the book, and leave them to themselves but a quarter of an hour, and when you come again, you shall find all those bodies carried away. Other trials we make of their ingenuity, as this:—Take a pewter dish, and fill it half full of water, into which put a little gally-pot filled with sugar, and the ants will presently find it and come upon the table; but when they perceive it environed with water, they try about the brims of the dish where the gally-pot is nearest; and there the most venturous amongst them commits himself to the water, though he be conscious how ill a swimmer he is, and is drowned in the adventure: the next is not warned by his example, but ventures too, and is alike drowned; and many more, so that there is a small foundation of their bodies to venture; and then they come faster than ever, and so make a bridge of their own bodies[72]."

The fact being certain, that ants impart their ideas to each other, we are next led to inquire by what means this is accomplished. It does not appear that, like the bees, they emit any significative sounds; their language, therefore, must consist of signs or gestures, some of which I shall now detail. In communicating their fear or expressing their anger, they run from one to another in a semicircle, and strike with their head or jaws the trunk or abdomen of the ant to which they mean to give information of any subject of alarm. But those remarkable organs, their antennæ, are the principal instruments of their speech, if I may so call it, supplying the place both of voice and words. When the military ants before alluded to go upon their expeditions, and are out of the formicary, previously to setting off, they touch each other on the trunk with their antennæ and forehead;—this is the signal for marching; for, as soon as any one has received it, he is immediately in motion. When they have any discovery to communicate, they strike with them those that they meet in a particularly impressive manner.—If a hungry ant wants to be fed, it touches with its two antennæ, moving them very rapidly, those of the individual from which it expects its meal:—and not only ants understand this language, but even Aphides and Cocci, which are the milch kine of our little pismires, do the same, and will yield them their saccharine fluid at the touch of these imperative organs. The helpless larvæ also of the ants are informed by the same means when they may open their mouths to receive their food.

Next to their language, and scarcely different from it, are the modes by which they express their affections and aversions. Whether ants, with man and some of the larger animals, experience any thing like attachment to individuals, is not easily ascertained; but that they feel the full force of the sentiment which we term patriotism, or the love of the community to which they belong, is evident from the whole series of their proceedings, which all tend to promote the general good. Distress or difficulty falling upon any member of their society, generally excites their sympathy, and they do their utmost to relieve it. M. Latreille once cut off the antennæ of an ant; and its companions, evidently pitying its sufferings, anointed the wounded part with a drop of transparent fluid from their mouth: and whoever attends to what is going forward in the neighbourhood of one of their nests, will be pleased to observe the readiness with which they seem disposed to assist each other in difficulties. When a burthen is too heavy for one, another will soon come to ease it of part of the weight; and if one is threatened with an attack, all hasten to the spot, to join in repelling it.

The satisfaction they express at meeting after absence is very striking, and gives some degree of individuality to their attachment. M. Huber witnessed the gesticulations of some ants, originally belonging to the same nest, that, having been entirely separated from each other four months, were afterwards brought together. Though this was equal to one-fourth of their existence as perfect insects, they immediately recognised each other, saluted mutually with their antennæ, and united once more to form one family.

They are also ever intent to promote each other's welfare, and ready to share with their absent companions any good thing they may meet with. Those that go abroad feed those which remain in the nest; and if they discover any stock of favourite food, they inform the whole community, as we have seen above, and teach them the way to it. M. Huber, for a particular reason, having produced heat, by means of a flambeau in a certain part of an artificial formicary, the ants that happened to be in that quarter, after enjoying it for a time, hastened to convey the welcome intelligence to their compatriots, whom they even carried suspended upon their jaws (their usual mode of transporting each other) to the spot, till hundreds might be seen thus laden with their friends.

If ants feel the force of love, they are equally susceptible of the emotions of anger; and when they are menaced or attacked, no insects show a greater degree of it. Providence, moreover, has furnished them with weapons and faculties which render it extremely formidable to their insect enemies, and sometimes, as I have related on a former occasion, a great annoyance to man himself[73]. Two strong mandibles arm their mouth, with which they sometimes fix themselves so obstinately to the object of their attack, that they will sooner be torn limb from limb than let go their hold;—and after their battles, the head of a conquered enemy may often be seen suspended to the antennæ or legs of the victor,—a trophy of his valour, which, however troublesome, he will be compelled to carry about with him to the day of his death. Their abdomen is also furnished with a poison-bag (Ioterium), in which is secreted a powerful and venomous fluid, long celebrated in chemical researches, and once called formic acid, though now considered a modification of the acetic and malic[74]; which, when their enemy is beyond the reach of their mandibles (I speak here particularly of the hill-ant, or F. rufa), standing erect on their hind-legs, they ejaculate from their anus with considerable force, so that from the surface of the nest ascends a shower of poison, exhaling a strong sulphureous odour, sufficient to overpower or repel any insect or small animal. Such is the fury of some species, that with the acid, according to Gould[75], they sometimes partly eject, drawing it back however directly, the poison-bag itself. If a stick be stuck into one of the nests of the hill-ant, it is so saturated with the acid as to retain the scent for many hours. A more formidable weapon arms the species of the genus Myrmica, Latr.; for, besides the poison-bag, they are furnished with a sting; and their aspect is also often rendered peculiarly revolting, by the extraordinary length of their jaws, and by the spines which defend their head and trunk.

But weapons without valour are of but little use; and this is one distinguishing feature of our pygmy race. Their courage and pertinacity are unconquerable, and often sublimed into the most inconceivable rage and fury. It makes no difference to them whether they attack a mite or an elephant; and man himself instills no terror into their warlike breasts. Point your finger towards any individual of F. rufa,—instead of running away, it instantly faces about, and, that it may make the most of itself, stiffening its legs into a nearly straight line, it gives its body the utmost elevation it is capable of; and thus

prepared to repel your attack. Put your finger a little nearer, it immediately opens its jaws to bite you, and rearing upon its hind-legs bends its abdomen between them, to ejaculate its venom into the wound[76].

This angry people, so well armed and so courageous, we may readily imagine are not always at peace with their neighbours; causes of dissension may arise to light the flame of war between the inhabitants of nests not far distant from each other. To these little bustling creatures a square foot of earth is a territory worth contending for;—their droves of Aphides equally valuable with the flocks and herds that cover our plains; and the body of a fly or a beetle, or a cargo of straws and bits of stick, an acquisition as important as the treasures of a Lima fleet to our seamen. Their wars are usually between nests of different species; sometimes, however, those of the same, when so near as to interfere with and incommode each other, have their battles; and with respect to ants of one species, Myrmica rubra, combats occasionally take place, contrary to the general habits of the tribe of ants, between those of the same nest. I shall give you some account of all these conflicts, beginning with the last. But I must first observe, that the only warriors amongst our ants are the neuters or workers; the males and females being very peaceable creatures, and always glad to get out of harm's way.

The wars of the red ant (M. rubra) are usually between a small number of the citizens; and the object, according to Gould, is to get rid of a useless member of the community (it does not argue much in favour of the humanity of this species if it be by sickness that this member is disabled), rather than any real civil contest. "The red colonies," says this author, "are the only ones I could ever observe to feed upon their own species. You may frequently discern a party of from five or six to twenty surrounding one of their own kind, or even fraternity, and pulling it to pieces. The ant they attack is generally feeble, and of a languid complexion, occasioned perhaps by some disorder or other accident[77]." I once saw one of these ants dragged out of the nest by another, without its head; it was still alive, and could crawl about. A lively imagination might have fancied that this poor ant was a criminal, condemned by a court of justice to suffer the extreme sentence of the law. It was more probably, however, a champion that had been decapitated in an unequal combat, unless we admit Gould's idea, and suppose it to have suffered because it was an unprofitable member of the community[78]. At another time I found three individuals that were fighting with great fury, chained together by their mandibles; one of these had lost two of the legs of one side, yet it appeared to walk well, and was as eager to attack and seize its opponents, as if it was unhurt. This did not look like languor or sickness.

The wars of ants that are not of the same species take place usually between those that differ in size; and the great endeavouring to oppress the small are nevertheless often outnumbered by them, and defeated. Their battles have long been celebrated, and the date of them, as if it were an event of the first importance, has been formally recorded. Æneas Sylvius, after giving a very circumstantial account of one contested with great obstinacy by a great and small species on the trunk of a pear-tree, gravely states, "This action was fought in the pontificate of Eugenius the Fourth, in the presence of Nicholas Pistoriensis, an eminent lawyer, who related the whole history of the battle with the greatest fidelity!" A similar engagement between great and small ants is recorded by Olaus Magnus, in which the small ones being victorious are said to have buried the bodies of their own soldiers, but left those of their giant enemies a prey to the birds. This event happened previous to the expulsion of the tyrant Christiern the Second from Sweden[79].

M. P. Huber is the only modern author that appears to have been witness to these combats. He tells us that, when the great attack the small, they seek to take them by surprise, (probably to avoid their fastening themselves to their legs,) and, seizing them by the upper part of the body, they strangle them with their mandibles; but when the small have time to foresee the attack, they give notice to their companions, who rush in crowds to their succour. Sometimes, however, after suffering a signal defeat, the smaller species are obliged to shift their quarters, and to seek an establishment more out of the way of danger. In order to cover their march, many small bodies are then posted at a little distance from the nest. As soon as the large ants approach the camp, the foremost sentinels instantly fly at them with the greatest rage, a violent struggle ensues, multitudes of their friends come to their assistance, and, though no match for their enemies singly, by dint of numbers they prevail, and the giant is either slain or led captive to the hostile camp. The species whose proceedings M. Huber observed, were F. herculanea and F. sanguinea, neither of which have yet been discovered in Britain[80].

But if you would see more numerous armies engaged, and survey war in all its forms, you must witness the combats of ants of the same species, you must go into the woods where the hill-ant of Gould (F. rufa) erects its habitations. There you will sometimes behold populous and rival cities, like Rome and Carthage, as if they had vowed each other's destruction, pouring forth their myriads by the various roads that, like rays, diverge on all sides from their respective metropolises, to decide by an appeal to arms the fate of their little world. As the exploits of frogs and mice were the theme of Homer's muse, so, were I gifted like him, might I celebrate on this occasion the exhibition of Myrmidonian valour; but, alas! I am Davus, not Œdipus; you must therefore rest contented, if I do my best in plain prose; and I trust you will not complain if, being unable to ascertain the name of any one of my heroes, my Myrmidonomachia be perfectly anonymous.

Figure to yourself two of these cities equal in size and population, and situated about a hundred paces from each other; observe their countless numbers, equal to the population of two mighty empires. The whole space which separates them for the breadth of twenty-four inches appears alive with prodigious crowds of their inhabitants. The armies meet midway between their respective habitations, and there join battle. Thousands of champions, mounted on more elevated spots, engage in single combat, and seize each other with their powerful jaws; a still greater number are engaged on both sides in taking prisoners, which make vain efforts to escape, conscious of the cruel fate which awaits them when arrived at the hostile formicary. The spot where the battle most rages is about two or three square feet in dimensions: a penetrating odour exhales on all sides,—numbers of ants are here lying dead covered with venom,—others, composing groups and chains, are hooked together by their legs or jaws, and drag each other alternately in contrary directions. These groups are formed gradually. At first a pair of combatants seize each other, and rearing upon their hind-legs mutually spirt their acid, then closing they fall and wrestle in the dust. Again recovering their feet, each endeavours to drag off his antagonist. If their strength be equal, they remain immoveable, till the arrival of a third gives one the advantage. Both, however, are often succoured at the same time, and the battle still continues undecided—others take part on each side, till chains are formed of six, eight, or sometimes ten, all hooked together and struggling pertinaciously for the mastery: the equilibrium remains unbroken, till a number of champions from the same nest arriving at once, compel them to let go their hold, and the single combats recommence. At the approach of night, each party gradually retreats to its own city: but before the following dawn the combat is renewed with redoubled fury, and occupies a greater extent of ground. These daily fights continue till, violent rains separating the combatants, they forget their quarrel, and peace is restored.

Such is the account given by M. Huber of a battle he witnessed. In these engagements, he observes, their fury is so wrought up, that nothing can divert them from their purpose. Though he was close to them examining their proceedings, they paid not the least attention to him, being absorbed by one sole object, that of finding an enemy to attack. What is most wonderful in this history, though all are of the same make, colour, and scent, every ant seemed to know those of his own party; and if by mistake one was attacked, it was immediately discovered by the assailant, and caresses succeeded to blows. Though all was fury and carnage in the space between the two nests, on the other side the paths were full of ants going to and fro on the ordinary business of the society, as in a time of peace; and the whole formicary exhibited an appearance of order and tranquillity, except that on the quarter leading to the field of battle crowds might always be seen, either marching to reinforce the army of their compatriots, or returning home with the prisoners they had taken[81], which it is to be feared are the devoted victims of a cannibal feast.

Having, I apprehend, satiated you with the fury and carnage of Myrmidonian wars, I shall next bring forward a scene still more astonishing, which at first, perhaps, you will be disposed to regard as the mere illusion of a lively imagination. What will you say when I tell you that certain ants are affirmed to sally forth from their nests on predatory expeditions, for the singular purpose of procuring slaves to employ in their domestic business; and that these ants are usually a ruddy race, while their slaves themselves are black? I think I see you here throw down my letter and exclaim—"What! ants turned slave-dealers! This is a fact so extraordinary and improbable, and so out of the usual course of nature, that nothing but the most powerful and convincing evidence shall induce me to believe it." In this I perfectly approve your caution; such a solecism in nature ought not to be believed till it has undergone the ordeal of a most thorough investigation. Unfortunately in this country we have not the means of satisfying ourselves by ocular demonstration, since none of the slave-dealing ants appear to be natives of Britain. We must be satisfied, therefore, with weighing the evidence of others. Hear what M. P. Huber, the discoverer of this almost incredible deviation of nature from her general laws, has advanced to convince the world of the accuracy of his statement, and you will, I am sure, allow that he has thrown over his history a colouring of verisimilitude, and that his appeal to testimony is in a very high degree satisfactory.

"My readers," says he, "will perhaps be tempted to believe that I have suffered myself to be carried away by the love of the marvellous, and that, in order to impart greater interest to my narration, I have given way to an inclination to embellish the facts that I have observed. But the more the wonders of nature have attractions for me, the less do I feel inclined to alter them by a mixture of the reveries of imagination. I have sought to divest myself of every illusion and prejudice, of the ambition of saying new things, of the prepossessions often attached to perceptions too rapid, the love of system, and the like. And I have endeavoured to keep myself, if I may so say, in a disposition of mind perfectly neuter, and ready to admit all facts, of whatever nature they might be, that patient observation should confirm. Amongst the persons whom I have taken as witnesses to the discovery of mixed ant-hills, I can cite a distinguished philosopher (Prof. Jurine), who was desirous of verifying their existence by examining himself the two species united[82]."

He afterwards appeals to nature, and calls upon all who doubt to repeat his experiments, which he is sure will soon satisfy them:—a satisfaction which, as I have just observed, in this country we cannot receive, for want of the slave-making species.—And now to begin my history.

There are two species of ants which engage in these excursions, Polyergus rufescens and Formica sanguinea: but they do not, like the African kings, make slaves of adults, their sole object being to carry off the helpless infants of the colony which they attack, the larvæ and pupæ; these they educate in their own nests, till they arrive at their perfect state, when they undertake all the business of the society[83]. In the following account I shall chiefly confine myself to what Huber relates of the first of these species, and conclude my extracts with his history of an expedition of the latter to procure slaves.

The rufescent ants[84] do not leave their nests to go upon these expeditions, which last about ten weeks, till the males are ready to emerge into the perfect state: and it is very remarkable, that if any individuals attempt to stray abroad earlier, they are detained by their slaves, who will not suffer them to proceed. A wonderful provision of the Creator to prevent the black colonies from being pillaged when they contain only male and female brood, which would be their total destruction, without being any benefit to their assailants, to whom neuters alone are useful.

Their time of sallying forth is from two in the afternoon till five, but more generally a little before five: the weather, however, must be fine, and the thermometer must stand at above 36° in the shade. Previously to marching there is reason to think that they send out scouts to explore the vicinity; upon whose return they emerge from their subterranean city, directing their course to the quarter from which the scouts came. They have various preparatory signals, such as pushing each other with the mandibles or forehead, or playing with the antennæ, the object of which is probably to excite their martial ardour, to give the word for marching, or to indicate the route they are to take. The advanced guard usually consists of eight or ten ants; but no sooner do these get beyond the rest, than they move back, wheeling round in a semicircle, and mixing with the main body, while others succeed to their station. They have "no captain, overseer, or ruler," as Solomon observes, their army being composed entirely of neuters, without a single female: thus all in their turns take their place at the head, and then retreating towards the rear, make room for others. This is the usual order of their march; and the object of it may be to communicate intelligence more readily from one part of the column to another.

When winding through the grass of a meadow they have proceeded to thirty feet or more from their own habitation, they disperse; and, like dogs with their noses, explore the ground with their antennæ to detect the traces of the game they are pursuing. The negro formicary, the object of their search, is soon discovered; some of the inhabitants are usually keeping guard at the avenues, which dart upon the foremost of their assailants with inconceivable fury. The alarm increasing, crowds of its swarthy inhabitants rush forth from every apartment; but their valour is exerted in vain; for the besiegers, precipitating themselves upon them, by the ardour of their attack compel them to retreat within, and seek shelter in the lowest story; great numbers entering with them at the gates, while others with their mandibles make a breach in the walls, through which the victorious army marches into the besieged city. In a few minutes, by the same passages, they as hastily evacuate it, each carrying off in its mouth a larva or pupa which it has seized in spite of its unhappy guardians. On their return home with their spoil, they pursue exactly the route by which they went to the attack. Their success on these expeditions is rather the result of their impetuosity, by which they damp the courage of the negroes, than of their superior strength, though they are a larger animal; for sometimes a very small body of them, not more than 150, has been known to succeed in their attack and to carry off their booty[85].

When from their proximity they are more readily to be come at than those of the negroes, they sometimes assault with the same view the nest of another species of ant, which I shall call the miners (F. cunicularia). This species being more courageous than the other, on this account the rufescent host marches to the attack in closer order than usual, moving with astonishing rapidity. As soon as they begin to enter their habitation, myriads of the miners rushing out fall upon them with great fury; while others, well aware of their purpose, making a passage through the midst of them, carry off in their mouth the larvæ and pupæ. The surface of the nest thus becomes the scene of an obstinate conflict, and the assailants are often deprived of the prey which they had seized. The miners dart upon them, fight them foot to foot, dispute every inch of their territory, and defend their progeny with unexampled courage and rage. When the rufescents, laden with pillage, retire, they do it in close order—a precaution highly necessary, since their valiant enemies, pursuing them, impede their progress for a considerable distance from their residence.

During these combats the pillaged ant-hill presents in miniature the spectacle of a besieged city; hundreds of its inhabitants may be seen making their escape, and carrying off in different directions, to a place of security, some the young brood, and others their females that are newly excluded: but when the danger is wholly passed, they bring them back to their city, the gates of which they barricade, and remain in great numbers near them to guard the entrance.

Formica sanguinea, as I observed above, is another of the slave-making ants; and its proceedings merit separate notice, since they differ considerably from those of the rufescents. They construct their nests under hedges of a southern aspect, and likewise attack the hills both of the negroes and miners. On the 15th of July, at ten in the morning, Huber observed a small band of these ants sallying forth from their formicary, and marching rapidly to a neighbouring nest of negroes, around which it dispersed. The inhabitants, rushing out in crowds, attacked them and took several prisoners: those that escaped advanced no further, but appeared to wait for succours; small brigades kept frequently arriving to reinforce them, which emboldened them to approach nearer to the city they had blockaded; upon this their anxiety to send couriers to their own nest seemed to increase: these spreading a general alarm, a large reinforcement immediately set out to join the besieging army; yet even then they did not begin the battle. Almost all the negroes, coming out of their fortress, formed themselves in a body about two feet square in front of it, and there expected the enemy. Frequent skirmishes were the prelude to the main conflict, which was begun by the negroes. Long before success appeared dubious they carried off their pupæ, and heaped them up at the entrance to their nest, on the side opposite to that on which the enemy approached. The young females also fled to the same quarter. The sanguine ants at length rush upon the negroes, and attacking them on all sides, after a stout resistance the latter, renouncing all defence, endeavour to make off to a distance with the pupæ they have heaped up:—the host of assailants pursues, and strives to force from them these objects of their care. Many also enter the formicary, and begin to carry off the young brood that are left in it. A continued chain of ants engaged in this employment extends from nest to nest, and the day and part of the night pass before all is finished. A garrison being left in the captured city, on the following morning the business of transporting the brood is renewed. It often happens (for this species of ant loves to change its habitation) that the conquerors emigrate with all their family to the acquisition which their valour has gained. All the incursions of F. sanguinea take place in the space of a month, and they make only five or six in the year. They will sometimes travel 150 paces to attack a negro colony.

After reading this account of expeditions undertaken by ants for so extraordinary a purpose, you will be curious to know how the slaves are treated in the nests of these marauders—whether they live happily, or labour under an oppressive yoke. You must recollect that they are not carried off, like our negroes, at an age when the amor patriæ and all the charities of life which bind them to their country, kindred and friends, are in their full strength, but in what may be called the helpless days of infancy, or in their state of repose, before they can have formed any associations or imbibed any notions that render one place and society more dear to them than another. Preconceived ideas, therefore, do not exist to influence their happiness, which must altogether depend upon the treatment which they experience at the hands of their new masters. Here the goodness of Providence is conspicuous; which, although it has gifted these creatures with an instinct so extraordinary, and seemingly so unnatural, has not made it a source of misery to the objects of it.

You will here, perhaps, imagine that I have not sufficiently taken into consideration the anxiety and privations undergone by the poor neuters, in beholding those foster-children, for which they have all along manifested such tender solicitude, thus violently snatched from them: but when you reflect that they are the common property of the whole colony, and that, consequently, there can scarcely be any separate attachment to particular individuals, you will admit that, after the fright and horror of the conflict are over, and their enemies have retreated, they are not likely to experience the poignant affliction felt by parents when deprived of their children; especially when you further consider, that most probably some of their brood are rescued from the general pillage; or at any rate their females are left uninjured, to restore the diminished population of their colonies, and to supply them with those objects of attention, the larvæ, &c. so necessary to that development of their instincts in which consists their happiness.

But to return to the point from which I digressed.—The negro and miner ants suffer no diminution of happiness, and are exposed to no unusual hardships and oppression in consequence of being transplanted into a foreign nest. Their life is passed in much the same employments as would have occupied it in their native residence. They build or repair the common dwelling; they make excursions to collect food; they attend upon the females; they feed them and the larvæ; and they pay the necessary attention to the daily sunning of the eggs, larvæ, and pupæ. Besides this, they have also to feed their masters and to carry them about the nest. This you will say is a serious addition to the ordinary occupations of their own colonies: but when you consider the greater division of labour in these mixed societies, which sometimes unite both negroes and miners in the same dwelling, so that three distinct races live together, from their vast numbers so far exceeding those of the native nest, you will not think this too severe employment for so industrious an animal.

But you will here ask, perhaps—"Do the masters take no part in these domestic employments? At least, surely, they direct their slaves, and see that they keep to their work?"—No such thing, I assure you—the sole motive for their predatory excursions seems to be mere laziness and hatred of labour. Active and intrepid as they are in the field, at all other times they are the most helpless animals that can be imagined;—unwilling to feed themselves, or even to walk, their indolence exceeds that of the sloth itself. So entirely dependent, indeed, are they upon their negroes for every thing, that upon some occasions the latter seem to be the masters, and exercise a kind of authority over them. They will not suffer them, for instance, to go out before the proper season, or alone; and if they return from their excursions without their usual booty, they give them a very indifferent reception, showing their displeasure, which however soon ceases, by attacking them; and when they attempt to enter the nest, dragging them out. To ascertain what they would do when obliged to trust to their own exertions, Huber shut up thirty of the rufescent ants in a glazed box, supplying them with larvæ and pupæ of their own kind, with the addition of several negro pupæ, excluding very carefully all their slaves, and placing some honey in a corner of their prison. Incredible as it may seem, they made no attempt to feed themselves: and though at first they paid some attention to their larvæ, carrying them here and there, as if too great a charge they soon laid them down again; most of them died of hunger in less than two days; and the few that remained alive appeared extremely weak and languid. At length, commiserating their condition, he admitted a single negro; and this little active creature by itself re-established order—made a cell in the earth; collected the larvæ and placed them in it; assisted the pupæ that were ready to be developed; and preserved the life of the neuter rufescents that still survived. What a picture of beneficent industry, contrasted with the baleful effects of sloth, does this interesting anecdote afford! Another experiment which he tried made the contrast equally striking. He put a large portion of one of these mixed colonies into a woollen bag, in the mouth of which he fixed a small tube of wood, glazed at the top, which at the other end was fitted to the entrance of a kind of hive. The second day the tube was crowded with negroes going and returning:—the indefatigable diligence and activity manifested by them in transporting the young brood and their rufescent masters, whose bodies were suspended upon their mandibles, was astonishing. These last took no active part in the busy scene, while their slaves showed the greatest anxiety about them, generally carrying them into the hive; and if they sometimes contented themselves with depositing them at the entrance of the tube, it was that they might use greater dispatch in fetching the rest. The rufescent when thus set down remained for a moment coiled up without motion, and then leisurely unrolling itself, looked all around, as if it was quite at a loss what direction to take;—it next went up to the negroes, and by the play of its antennæ seemed to implore their succour, till one of them attending to it conducted it into the hive.

Beings so entirely dependent, as these masters are upon their slaves, for every necessary, comfort and enjoyment of their life, can scarcely be supposed to treat them with rigour or unkindness:—so far from this, it is evident from the preceding details, that they rather look up to them, and are in some degree under their control.