500 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



August, 1921 



M 



C 



ur 



OEE per- 

 haps than 

 any other 

 branch of agri- 

 culture, beekeep- 

 ing has a gener- 

 ous list of great 

 and beloved 

 names folded 

 down in its 



chronicles. Even after laying aside the 

 thought of literary sideliners like Virgil of 

 old and Maeterlinck of today and others 

 like them (are there any others like them, 

 tho? — will there ever be?), men who have 

 immortalized the charm of the bee, there are 

 still practical apiculturists, experimenters 

 and scientific investigators whose names are 

 dear to the entire beekeeping fraternity. 



From among them all, could only one be 

 selected for a sketch who would not choose 

 the great Swiss naturalist — ^blind Francois 

 Huber? It is good to renew, in even the 

 small measure of such an article as this, our 

 acquaintance with this dauntless soul. 



He was born in Geneva, Switzerland, in 

 1750. What a city and what a time for a 

 scientist to be born in! Horace Benedict de 

 Saussure, the eminent Swiss physicist and 

 geologist, who at 22 years of age accepted 

 the chair of physics and natural philosophy 

 at the University of Geneva, was a romp- 

 ing boy of 10 years when Huber, his future 

 famous pupil, was born. Charles Bonnet, 

 another great Swiss naturalist and philoso- 

 pher, was 30, but he guessed no more than 

 the boy De Saussure how great and dear a 

 friend was born in his own native city that 

 day. This was the same Charles Bonnet 

 who had startled the scientific world 10 

 years before, when only 20, with a paper on 

 aphids, in which parthenogenetic reproduc- 

 tion was first described. No wonder this 

 achievement made him, young tho he was, 

 a corresponding member of the French 

 Academy of Sciences. This was a full cen- 

 tury before Johann Dzierzon, the pastor of 

 Karlsmarkt, grew from a sideline beekeeper 

 into a special student of apiculture and 

 with the aid of his detachable cells discov- 

 ered the parthenogenetic origin of drones. 



Huber 's own family was well-known and 

 wealthy. He probably never remembered 

 his great-aunt, Marie Huber, for she died 

 when he was only three years old; but she 

 was a literary woman of wide interests, not 

 only a tireless writer on religious and theo- 

 logical subjects, but also the translator of 

 the Spectator. Then there was another rela- 

 tive with a fine chemical laboratory, who, 

 alas, could not, even in the modern, progres- 

 sive, scientific spirit of the Geneva of the 

 mid-eighteenth century, lay aside his stub- 

 born belief in alchemy. How long and pa- 

 tiently they labored, those old alchemists! 

 And there was the boy's own father, Jean 

 Huber, from whom he inherited his deep 

 love of nature and keen powers of observa- 

 tion. 



Beekeeping as a Side Line 



1 



Grace Allen 



T=J 



What a bril- 

 liant, gay, light- 

 hearted, charm- 

 ing and likable 

 gentleman this 

 Jean Huber must 

 have been. 

 Known as a wit, 

 he had also 

 many and varied 

 talents — he was a poet and a musician, a 

 painter and a sculptor, and he served for 

 many years as a soldier. But he took life 

 lightly, tossing the hours about like bright- 

 colored balls to be played with, and so made 

 no lasting mark in any line, tho his ' ' Obser- 

 vations on the Flights of Birds of Prey" 

 won him considerable reputation. However, 

 he was doubtless a delightfully entertaining 

 daddy. What music he could make! How he 

 loved the out-of-doors and what fascinating 

 things he could discover there and what se- 

 crets he could then tell about them! What 

 strange and splendid specimens he had col- 

 lected! And what miracles he could perform 

 with a piece of paper and a pair of shears! 

 Indeed, the cutting out of landscapes and 

 silhouettes from paper became such an art 

 in his hands, that he may fairly be called 

 its originator. How he must have amazed 

 and delighted groTfn-ups as well as children 

 that time he tore a profile of Voltaire from 

 a card with his hands behind his back- — and 

 that other time when he broke his own rec- 

 ord by so skillfully guiding and turning a 

 flat piece of cheese that his cat ate out 

 therefrom another profile of Voltaire! For- 

 tunately only his brilliance and talent de- 

 scended to his son, and not the undue levity 

 that undoubtedly marred his own career. 



This father 's library, his cabinets of spe- 

 cimens and his rich observations roused in 

 the boy an early and unceasing love of 

 nature, which was well developed into 

 methodical observations at an age when few 

 children have learned to observe at all. Then 

 there were also the usual social activities of 

 the children of such families, and young 

 Francois was sent to dancing school. So, 

 too, was little Marie Lullin, whose father 

 was one of the Magistrates of the Swiss Ee- 

 public. They became childish sweethearts, 

 these two. But oh, how little their child 

 hearts guessed, as they followed the steps 

 of their dancing master, the greatness of 

 the tragic days to come. 



From early childhood Francois attended 

 lectures at Genevan College. Before he was 

 15, he had completed a course in physics 

 under De Saussure. He had familiarized 

 himself with chemical manipulations in the 

 laboratory of the old alchemist. But a too 

 intense and steady application to his studies 

 and the habit of constantly reading late 

 into the night by dim lamplight or dimmer 

 moonlight seriously injured his health. At 

 fifteen, he broke down, utterly prostrated 

 and threatened with blindness. His terri- 

 fied father — all gayety forgot — rushed him 



