CHAP. V. OF THE WARS OF ANTS, AND SOME OTHER PARTICULARS.

The scourge of war, is it inseparable from the state of society? Ants, whose civilization appears more developed than we had reason to expect, whose manners announce harmony, reciprocal attention, regard for their females, union and perfect equality between the several members of their republic, do they present us an example of that law, which ordains, that species too abundant should be their own destroyers? Nature has so willed it! It was necessary that ants should still have with us this relation, the necessity for which rests upon plans too elevated for our feeble conception.

That kind of aggression which is practised by considerable armies, and is manifested in frequent combats, widely differs from the artifices of those insects that take their prey by surprise;—some by means of nets which they spread, others by the aid of those ingenious snares into which ants themselves unconsciously fall.⁠[1] It is only to the wars in which we engage that we can compare those of ants; we may, therefore, tolerate, in favour of this resemblance, expressions a little too pompous for the heroines whose history I am writing: we cannot invent a particular language for these insects, we must therefore make use of the terms employed when speaking of war.

I shall not now describe the kind of chase which ants give to those insects they find in their journies; the whole of their art being then limited to their assembling together for the purpose of assailing and dragging them to the ant-hill. The ants of southern countries, more warlike than ours, attack little quadrupeds and destroy rats and other noxious animals, while the beetle and caterpillar are the largest insects upon which the ants of Europe make war: they will, however, dissect very neatly lizards, and other dead animals. Ants make their attack openly; cunning is not in the number of their arms; those of which they make use, are the same pincers they employ for carrying the materials of their nests, a sting resembling that of bees, and the venom which accompanies it, an acid liquor contained in their abdomen, which produces a slight irritation on the skin. These arms, as before stated, are only possessed by the females and workers, to whom nature has confided the several interests of the colony. The males take no part in its preservation, except in the reproduction of the species. The females, doubtless too valuable to allow of their exposing their lives, always make their escape on the slightest danger. The workers are those only destined to defend their habitation.

Several species are unprovided with a sting, but they supply its place by biting their enemy and pouring into the wound they inflict with their teeth, a drop of venom, which renders it exceedingly painful. They bend, for that purpose, their abdomen, which contains the venomous liquor, and approach it to the wounded part, at the very same moment they tear it with their pincers. When their adversaries keep only at a distance, and they are unable to reach them, they all raise themselves on their hind feet, and, bringing their abdomen between their legs, spurt their venom with some degree of force. We see ascend, from the whole surface of the nest, a thick cloud of formic acid, which exhales an almost sulphureous odour.

Of all the enemies of the ant, those most dreaded are the ants themselves; the smallest not the least, since several fasten at once upon the feet of the largest, drag them on the ground, embarrass their movements, and thus prevent their escape. One would be astonished at the fury of these insects in their combats; it would be more easy to tear away their limbs and cut them in pieces, than compel them to quit their hold. It is nothing uncommon to see the head of an ant suspended to the legs or antennæ of some worker, who bears about, in every place, this pledge of his victory. We also observe, not unfrequently, the ants dragging after them the entire body of some enemy they had killed some time before, fastened to their feet in such a way as not to allow of their disengaging themselves.

Supposing the ants to be of equal size, those furnished with a sting have an advantage over those who employ only for their defence their venom and their teeth. The whole of those ants whose peduncle has no scale, but one or two knots, are provided with a sting; the Red Ants, which are said to sting more sharply than the rest, possess both these sorts of arms. In general the ants furnished with a sting are, in our country, some of the smallest. I know but one species of middle size; but it is very rare and only inhabits the Alps.

The wars entered into by ants of different size bear no resemblance to those in which ants engage who come to combat with an equal force. When the large attack the small, they appear to do it by surprise, most likely to prevent the latter from fastening upon their legs; they seize them in the upper part of the body and strangle them immediately between their pincers. But when the small ants have time to guard against an attack, they intimate to their companions the danger with which they are threatened, when the latter arrive in crowds to their assistance. I have witnessed a battle between the Herculean and the Sanguine Ants; the Herculean Ants quitted the trunk of the tree in which they had established their abode, and arrived to the very gates of the dwelling of the Sanguine Ants; the latter, only half the size of their adversaries, had the advantage in point of number; they, however, acted on the defensive. The earth, strewed with the dead bodies of their compatriots, bore witness they had suffered the greatest carnage: they, therefore, took the prudent part of fixing their habitation elsewhere, and with great activity transported to a distance of fifty feet from the spot, their companions, and the several objects that interested them. Small detachments of the workers were posted at little distances from the nest, apparently placed there to cover the march of the recruits and to preserve the city itself from any sudden attack. They struck against each other when they met, and had always their mandibles separated in the attitude of defiance. As soon as the Herculean Ants approached their camp, the centinels in front assailed them with fury; they fought at first in single combat. The Sanguine Ant threw himself upon the Herculean Ant, fastened upon its head, turned its abdomen against the chest of its adversary or against the lower part of its mouth, and inundated it with venom. It sometimes quitted its antagonist with great quickness; more frequently, however, the Herculean Ant held between its feet its audacious enemy. The two champions then rolled themselves in the dust and struggled violently. The advantage was at first in favour of the largest ant; but its adversary was soon assisted by those of its own party, who collected around the Herculean Ant and inflicted several deep wounds with their teeth. The Herculean Ant yielded to numbers; it either perished the victim of its temerity, or was conducted a prisoner to the enemy’s camp.⁠[2]⁠

Such are the combats between ants of different size; but if we wish to behold regular armies, war in all its form, we must visit those forests in which the Fallow Ants establish their dominion over every insect in their territory. We shall there see populous and rival cities, regular roads passing from the ant-hill as so many rays from a centre, and frequented by an immense number of combatants, wars between hordes of the same species, for they are naturally enemies and jealous of the territory which borders their own capital. It is in these forests, I have witnessed the inhabitants of two large ant-hills engaged in spirited combat. I cannot pretend to say what occasioned discord between these republics. They were composed of ants of the same species, alike in their extent and population, and were situated about a hundred paces distance from each other. Two empires could not possess a greater number of combatants.

Let us figure to ourselves this prodigious crowd of insects covering the ground lying between these two ant-hills, and occupying a space of two feet in breadth. Both armies met at half-way from their respective habitations, and there the battle commenced. Thousands of ants took their station upon the highest ground, and fought in pairs, keeping firm hold of their antagonists by their mandibles: a considerable number were engaged in the attack and leading away prisoners. The latter made several ineffectual efforts to escape, as if aware that, upon their arrival at the camp they would experience a cruel death. The scene of warfare occupied a space of about three feet square; a penetrating odour exhaled from all sides; numbers of dead ants were seen covered with venom. Those ants composing groups and chains, took hold of each other’s legs and pincers, and dragged their antagonists on the ground. These groups formed successively. The fight usually commenced between two ants, who seized each other by the mandibles, and raised themselves upon their hind-legs, to allow of their bringing their abdomen forward, and spurting the venom upon their adversary. They were frequently so closely wedged together that they fell upon their sides, and fought a long time, in that situation, in the dust; they shortly after raised themselves, when each began dragging its adversary; but when their force was equal, the wrestlers remained immoveable, and fixed each other to the ground, until a third came to decide the contest. It more commonly happened that both ants received assistance at the same time, when the whole four, keeping firm hold of a foot or antenna, made ineffectual attempts to gain the battle. Some ants joined the latter, and these were, in their turn, seized by new arrivals. It was in this way they formed chains of six, eight, or ten ants, all firmly locked together; the equilibrium was only broken when several warriors, from the same republic advanced at the same time, who compelled those that were enchained to let go their hold, when the single combats again took place. On the approach of night each party returned gradually to the city, which served it for an asylum. The ants, which were either killed or led away in captivity, not being replaced by others, the number of combatants diminished, until their force was exhausted.

The ants returned to the field of battle before dawn. The groups again formed; the carnage recommenced with greater fury than on the preceding evening, and the scene of combat occupied a space of six feet in length by two in breadth. Success was for a long time doubtful; about mid-day the contending armies had removed to the distance of a dozen feet from one of their cities, whence I conclude some ground had been gained. The ants fought so desperately, that nothing could withdraw them from their enterprise; they did not even perceive my presence, and although I remained close to the army, none of them climbed upon my legs; they seemed absorbed in one object, that of finding an enemy to contend with.

This devotion for their country, is it not astonishing in such little insects? Can we conceive how nature, has inspired them with such interest for the colony in which they equally labour? These wars offer something still more surprising—the instinct which enables each ant to know his own party. How and by what sign do they distinguish their compatriots, in a contest, in which thousands of individuals of the same colour, of the same size, of the same odour, and even of the very same species, meet, attack, or defend themselves, inundate their adversaries with venom, and lead away prisoners? They march with defiance; even at the time they are approaching their companions they keep their mandibles wide asunder. They sometimes attack those of their own party; but on recognising them, immediately relax their hold. It often happens that those who are the object of this temporary error caress their compatriots with their antennæ, and readily appease their anger. What an idea does not this give us of the bond of union between these insects, and of the subtlety of their senses.

The common operations of the two colonies were not suspended during this warfare: the paths, which led to a distance in the forest, were as much thronged as in a time of peace, and all around the ant-hill order and tranquillity prevailed, with the exception only of that side on which the battle was raging. A crowd of these insects were constantly seen to be setting off for the scene of combat, while others were returning with their prisoners. This war terminated without any disastrous results to the two republics; long continued rains shortened its duration, and our warriors ceased to frequent the road which led to the camp of the enemy.

I have witnessed many such combats; but I shall not now relate them, under the fear of fatiguing my readers by too frequent repetition. I ought, however, to give them an idea of those which take place between the Fallow Ants and Sanguine Ants, since they differ much in character from those I have mentioned, approaching nearer the wars in which we ourselves engage.

The Sanguine Ants, when they are attacked by the Fallow Ants, go and await the enemy in little troops, at some distance from the nest: they advance in a body, without separating, and seize all those of their enemies who venture too far from their camp. These slight skirmishes are very amusing: the two parties place themselves in ambuscade, and suddenly attack each other in turns; but when the Sanguine Ants perceive that the Fallow Ants are advancing in force against them, they inform those at the ant-hill of the need in which they stand of their assistance. Immediately, a considerable army leaves the Sanguine city, advances in a body, and surrounds the enemy. Nothing more, I conceive, is wanting to prove the existence of a language between these insects. I have witnessed instances of this kind every day for several weeks. These combats were constantly renewed between the two ant-hills, which lay at some distance from each other, but were situated in the same hedge; so that the paths proceeding from each led to the adverse territory. Is not this sufficient to excite war between the greatest empires!⁠[3]⁠

I shall now offer a few observations, to which I shall give no definite term, since they relate to scenes that I dare not qualify with the title gymnastic, although they bear a close resemblance to scenes of that kind. It is to the Fallow Ants I am indebted for these details; they have already furnished me with several remarkable particulars. Do they not owe to the immense population of their nest those differences which their industry and character present; it is at least highly probable, but I will not positively affirm it. I visited, one day, one of their ant-hills, exposed to the sun and sheltered from the north; the ants were heaped one upon another in great numbers, and appeared to enjoy the temperature on the surface of the nest. None of them were at work. This immense multitude of insects presented the appearance of a liquid in the state of ebullition, upon which the eye had some difficulty in resting; but when I examined the conduct of each ant, I saw them approach each other, moving their antennæ with astonishing rapidity. With slight movements of their fore-feet they patted the lateral parts of the head of the other ants. After these first gestures, which resembled caresses, they were observed to raise themselves upon their hind-legs by pairs, struggle together, seize each other by a mandible, foot, or antenna, and then immediately relax their hold to re-commence the attack. They fastened on the thorax or abdomen, embraced and overthrew each other, then raised themselves by turns, taking their revenge without producing any mischief. They did not spurt forth their venom, as in their combats, nor retain their adversary with that obstinacy which we observe in their serious quarrels. They presently abandoned the ants they had seized, and endeavoured to lay hold of others. I saw some who were so eager in these exercises, that they pursued successively several workers, and struggled with them a few moments, the combat only terminating, when the least animated, having overthrown his antagonist, succeeded in escaping and hiding in one of the galleries.

I frequently visited this ant-hill, which almost always presented me the same spectacle: sometimes this disposition was general; groups of ants were seen here and there struggling together; but I never saw any quit the ant-hill wounded or maimed.

The inhabitants of other ant-hills but rarely engage in this amusement, half-warlike, half-social. If the manners, however, of ants of the same species are essentially alike, their habitudes offer very distinct shades of difference in the several colonies. These republics, from having no communication with each other, contract particular habits in the different circumstances under which they may be placed: abundance or scarcity, the proximity or distance from whence the ants draw their materials, the labours to which they are called, the neighbourhood of an antagonist ant-hill, or other accidental circumstances, considerably influence their actions. The colony of which we are speaking was one of those remarkable for its harmony; the insects of which it was composed did not cease offering their companions nourishment, caressing them with their antennæ, and carrying them from place to place. I am induced to believe this friendly disposition originated from the situation of the ant-hill, which was contiguous to the source whence they obtained their food, inclosed between a ditch full of water and a very thick hedge, which preserved them from the visits of strange ants and other enemies. What contributes to strengthen me in this opinion is, that I have observed the same exercises in my glazed ant-hill, when the ants were abundantly supplied with nourishment, when they were perfectly reconciled to their abode, and under the influence of a mild temperature.

Other ant-hills presented me some particulars a little different from the above. I often saw on the surface of the nest workers that appeared affected with vertigo; they made several evolutions in the sun with convulsive movements, opening their pincers and running in every direction over the ant-hills. Shortly after, some, affected in the like manner, began to frisk about, and then entered the first gallery they found on their passage. These ants deranged every thing about them; but this disposition continued only two or three minutes, and was, I think, occasioned by the heat of the sun, never having observed it to take place but when the sun was high in the horizon. Several of those I noticed, after having whirled round some moments, fastened on the other ants by a leg or antenna, then relaxed their hold to run after others; sometimes carrying them off, but doing them no injury. In one place two ants appeared to be gambolling about a stalk of grass; they turned alternately to avoid or seize each other, which brought to my recollection the sport and the feigned combats of young dogs, when they rise on their hind-legs, attempting to bite, overthrow, and seize each other, without once closing their teeth.

To witness these facts, it is necessary to approach the ant-hills with much caution, that the ants should have no idea of our presence; if they had, they would cease at the moment their plays and their occupations, would put themselves in a posture of defence, curve their abdomen and ejaculate their venom. So much is their attention occupied, when making preparations for war, that they lose sight of all other objects.

The ants then are acquainted with labours, combats, I was about to say, pleasures⁠[4]⁠; they possess signs which are of use to them as a language, give proofs of their affection for each other, and of devotedness for their colony, and take care of the females and their little ones. These are well-known traits of civilization; and if ants were only of the size of beavers, we should think we could not sufficiently admire them.