assistance.  They have the appearance of understanding each other, and of working for a common aim; and the observer, therefore, is apt to endow them with reasons and intellect that they truly are far from possessing.  He will pretend to account for each action, show a reason behind every movement; and from thence the gradation is easy to proclaiming them marvels, or monsters, of innumerable ideas.  Whereas the truth is that these ten thousand individuals, that have been produced simultaneously, that have lived together, and undergone metamorphosis at more or less the same time, cannot fail all to do the same thing, and are compelled, however slight the sentiment within them, to adopt common habits, to live in accord and union, to busy themselves with their dwelling, to return to it after their journeys, etc., etc.  And on this foundation arise the architecture, the geometry, the order, the foresight, love of country,—­in a word, the republic; all springing, as we have seen, from the admiration of the observer.”  There we have our bees explained in a very different fashion.  And if it seem more natural at first, is it not for the very simple reason that it really explains almost nothing?  I will not allude to the material errors this chapter contains; I will only ask whether the mere fact of the bees accepting a common existence, while doing each other the least possible harm, does not in itself argue a certain intelligence.  And does not this intelligence appear the more remarkable to us as we more closely examine the fashion in which these “ten thousand individuals” avoid hurting each other, and end by giving assistance?  And further, is this not the history of ourselves; and does not all that the angry old naturalist says apply equally to every one of our human societies?  And yet once again:  if the bee is indeed to be credited with none of the feelings or ideas that we have ascribed to it, shall we not very willingly shift the ground of our wonder?  If we must not admire the bee, we will then admire nature; the moment must always come when admiration can be no longer denied us, nor shall there be loss to us through our having retreated, or waited.

However these things may be, and without abandoning this conjecture of ours, that at least has the advantage of connecting in our mind certain actions that have evident connection in fact, it is certain that the bees have far less adoration for the queen herself than for the infinite future of the race that she represents.  They are not sentimental; and should one of their number return from work so severely wounded as to be held incapable of further service, they will ruthlessly expel her from the hive.  And yet it cannot be said that they are altogether incapable of a kind of personal attachment towards their mother.  They will recognise her from among all.  Even when she is old, crippled, and wretched, the sentinels at the door will never allow another queen to enter the hive, though she be young and fruitful.  It is true that this is one of the fundamental principles of their polity, and never relaxed except at times of abundant honey, in favour of some foreign worker who shall be well laden with food.