THE PROGRESS OF THE RACE 223 



in the gardens of Charenton, were absolutely identical with 

 those that to-morrow, when April returns, will be humming 

 in the woods of Vincennes, but a few yards away. From 

 Reaumur's day to our own, however, is but as the twinkling 

 of an eye ; and many lives of men, placed end to end, form 

 but a second in the history of Nature's thought. 



1 12 



Although the idea that our eyes have followed attains 

 its supreme expression in our domestic bees, it must not be 

 inferred therefrom that the hive reveals no faults. There is 

 one masterpiece, the hexagonal cell, that touches absolute per- 

 fection ; a perfection that all the geniuses in the world, were 

 they to meet in conclave, could in no way enhance. No 

 living creature, not even man, has achieved, in the centre of 

 his sphere, what the bee has achieved in her own ; and were 

 some one from another world to descend and ask of the earth 

 the most perfect creation of the logic of life, we should needs 

 have to offer the humble comb of honey. 



But the level of this perfection is not maintained through- 

 out. We have already dealt with a few faults and short- 

 comings, evident sometimes and sometimes mysterious, such 

 as the ruinous superabundance and idleness of the males, 

 parthenogenesis, the perils of the nuptial flight, excessive 

 swarming, the absence of pity, and the almost monstrous 

 sacrifice of the individual to society. To these must be 

 added a strange inclination to store enormous masses of 

 pollen, far in excess of their needs ; for the pollen, soon 

 turning rancid, and hardening, encumbers the surface of 



