No bee, it would seem, dare take on herself the horror of direct and bloody regicide. Whenever, therefore, the good order and prosperity of the republic appear to demand that a queen shall die, they endeavour to give to her death some semblance of natural decease, and by infinite subdivision of the crime, to render it almost anonymous.
They will, therefore, to use the picturesque expression of the apiarist, "ball" the queenly intruder; in other words, they will entirely surround her with their innumerable interlaced bodies. They will thus form a sort of living prison wherein the captive is unable to move; and in this prison they will keep her for twenty-four hours, if need be, till the victim die of suffocation or hunger.
But if, at this moment, the legitimate queen draw near, and, scenting a rival, appear disposed to attack her, the living walls of the prison will at once fly open; and the bees, forming a circle around the two enemies, will eagerly watch the strange duel that will ensue, though remaining strictly impartial, and taking no share in it. For it is written that against a mother the sting may be drawn by a mother alone; only she who bears in her flanks close on two million lives appears to possess the right with one blow to inflict close on two million deaths.
But if the combat last too long, without any result, if the circular weapons glide harmlessly over the heavy cuirasses, if one of the queens appear anxious to make her escape, then, be she the legitimate sovereign or be she the stranger, she will at once be seized and lodged in the living prison until such time as she manifest once more the desire to attack her foe. It is right to add, however, that the numerous experiments that have been made on this subject have almost invariably resulted in the victory of the reigning queen, owing perhaps to the extra courage and ardour she derives from the knowledge that she is at home, with her subjects around her, or to the fact that the bees, however impartial while the fight is in progress, may possibly display some favouritism in their manner of imprisoning the rivals; for their mother would seem scarcely to suffer from the confinement, whereas the stranger almost always emerges in an appreciably bruised and enfeebled condition.
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There is one simple experiment which proves the readiness with which the bees will recognise their queen, and the depth of the attachment they bear her. Remove her from the hive, and there will soon be manifest all the phenomena of anguish and distress that I have described in a preceding chapter. Replace her, a few hours later, and all her daughters will hasten towards her, offering honey. One section will form a lane, for her to pass through; others, with head bent low and abdomen high in the air, will describe before her great semicircles throbbing with sound; hymning, doubtless, the chant of welcome their rites dictate for moments of supreme happiness or solemn respect.
But let it not be imagined that a foreign queen may with impunity be substituted for the legitimate mother. The bees will at once detect the imposture; the intruder will be seized, and immediately enclosed in the terrible, tumultuous prison, whose obstinate walls will be relieved, as it were, till she dies; for in this particular instance it hardly ever occurs that the stranger emerges alive.
And here it is curious to note to what diplomacy and elaborate stratagem man is compelled to resort in order to delude these little sagacious insects, and bend them to his will. In their unswerving loyalty, they will accept the most unexpected events with touching courage, regarding them probably as some new and inevitable fatal caprice of nature. And, indeed, all this diplomacy notwithstanding, in the desperate confusion that may follow one of these hazardous expedients, it is on the admirable good sense of the bee that man always, and almost empirically, relies; on the inexhaustible treasure of their marvellous laws and customs, on their love of peace and order, their devotion to the public weal, and fidelity to the future; on the adroit strength, the earnest disinterestedness, of their character, and, above all, on the untiring devotion with which they fulfil their duty. But the enumeration of such procedures belongs rather to technical treatises on apiculture, and would take us too far.*
*The stranger queen is usually brought into the hive
enclosed in a little cage, with iron wires, which is hung
between two combs. The cage has a door made of wax and
honey, which the workers, their anger over, proceed to gnaw,
thus freeing the prisoner, whom they will often receive
without any ill-will. Mr. Simmins, manager of the great
apiary at Rottingdean, has recently discovered another
method of introducing a queen, which, being extremely simple
and almost invariably successful, bids fair to be generally
adopted by apiarists who value their art. It is the
behaviour of the queen that usually makes her introduction a
matter of so great difficulty. She is almost distracted,
flies to and fro, hides, and generally comports herself as
an intruder, thus arousing the suspicions of the bees, which
are soon confirmed by the workers' examination. Mr. Simmins
at first completely isolates the queen he intends to
introduce, and lets her fast for half an hour. He then lifts
a corner of the inner cover of the orphaned hive, and places
the strange queen on the top of one of the combs. Her former
isolation having terrified her, she is delighted to find
herself in the midst of the bees; and being famished she
eagerly accepts the food they offer her. The workers,
deceived by her assurance, do not examine her, but probably
imagine that their old queen has returned, and welcome her
joyfully. It would seem, therefore, that, contrary to the
opinion of Huber and all other investigators, the bees are
not capable of recognising their queen. In any event, the
two explanations, which are both equally plausible—though
the truth may lurk, perhaps, in a third, that is not yet
known to us—only prove once again how complex and obscure
is the psychology of the bee. And from this, as from all
questions that deal with life, we can draw one conclusion
only: that, till better obtain, curiosity still must rule in
our heart.
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