THE EVOLUTION OF THE BEE AND THE BEEHIVE
ing pollen or nectar from plants to be turned into honey. Sometimes they act as chemists, as when they inject drops of formic acid into the stored food to prevent its fermentation. Sometimes they are sealing down cells. Sometimes they are sweeping and cleaning and scavenging to keep the hive clean, and dragging dead bees into the open. Sometimes they are acting as policemen to guard the hive—to scare away intruders. Sometimes they are architects and wax-workers and moulders. At times some fan their wings to ventilate the interior of the dark hive and to aid in the evaporation of the water in the honey if it is too weak. Some of them act as nurses and some as maids of honour, who do not allow the queen to get out of their sight. As has been pointed out by a learned divine:
“Three facts emerge from a study of this community:
“1. The lesson of solidarity, of the social spirit, to which the interests of the individual are subservient.
“2. The distribution of labour in accordance with the law of mutual help, each doing his work like an instrument in a vast orchestra and all producing a beautiful harmony.
“3. The law of sacrifice for the sake of the future race.”
Each individual is so wrapped up in the community that if isolated from its fellows it dies. The constant sense of mutual help, of self-sacrifice for the future race, is the dominating characteristic of all bees, and there is something that Maeterlinck calls the “spirit of the hive,” which in some way guides, directs, and controls the work of this strange, self-sacrificing community. Here there is no private property. As Dryden says in his translation of Vergil’s book about the bee: “All is the State’s; the State provides for all.” In a passionate devotion to duty and in an energy expended solely for others, in a single-minded purpose, the queen and the worker honey-bee are unique among animals. Now, how has
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