THE COMING SUBJECTION OF MAN.

      MY knowledge of literary form is so slight that it is with great diffidence I take up my pen, and were it not for the importance of what I have to say I should not dare attempt so unusual a feat as writing an article for a magazine. But the discovery I have stumbled upon is so curious and important that, despite my misgivings, I feel that my duty to humanity requires I should make it public.

      My course at the university was a scientific one, and since leaving the academic shades my time and attention have been entirely devoted to the study of the habits and functions of insects. Men eminent in science have seen fit to speak in terms of praise concerning two papers I have read before the Academy of Sciences, on the "Social Economy of Bees," and "The Importance of the Antennæ in Communications between Insects." They were too technical to appeal to the unscientific world, so that I have not the consciousness of familiarity with my public to support me under the ordeal of appearing in the rôle of warning prophet. I have endeavored to free this warning as much as possible, from all technical terms or scientific methods of speech, for my great desire is, first of all, that it should be read; and I know by experience that the careless general reader will never pick his way through the thorns of technicalities, no matter what beautiful sleeping truths may lie behind them — dormant for a hundred, aye, a thousand years.

      But to dispense with preliminaries, I will say at once that about two years ago the idea suggested itself to me that by the use of the microphone I might possibly ascertain whether, when a couple of ants visibly conversed by rubbing together their antennæ, they produced any sound whatever — a sound, of course, far too slight to reach the human ear. The microphone, I may venture to explain to those who have not carefully followed the later triumphs of electrical invention, is an instrument designed to magnify sounds. For example, if a fly is allowed to walk across the sounding-board of this instrument the sound is like the tramping of a horse; or rather, owing to the suction of its feet, which enables it to walk up smooth surfaces, the sound is like that of a horse walking in deep, thick mud. It will readily be seen that such an instrument allows of the catching of vibrations which are too feeble to affect the unassisted tympanum of the human ear. I experimented with ants for some time without achieving any considerable success, other than the perception that a slight crispation accompanies a conversation carried on by means of the antennæ. Being balked in this direction, I then conceived the idea of experimenting with bees. Here I was rewarded with a sudden and most astonishing success. As is well known, the humming sound given out by bees is produced by the movements of the wings, not alone in flying, for the bee still hums while walking over the petals of a flower. These sounds, when given forth by a bee walking upon the sounding-board of a microphone, I found to be as loud as the tones of a shrill voice. After much careful attention I also discovered, to my unspeakable surprise, that these sounds were arbitrary, were governed by certain noticeable modulations, and were in fact, as I soon guessed, a series of noises by which they conveyed their wants and intentions to each other.

      I will not detail the long series of experiments by which I convinced myself of the truth of this conjecture; but no sooner had I done so than I became consumed with a desire to gain some definite idea of the meaning of each one of these sounds. I began by putting two bees upon the sounding-board, noting down the sounds stenographically, and then observing, with the utmost care, the action taken by one bee in obedience to the sounds made by his fellow. By this method I was enabled to make some faint guess at the meaning of certain sets of sounds, and the intelligence they conveyed from one bee to another. The process was one of infinite tediousness and labor, as may be guessed when I say that for eighteen months I worked at these experiments, averaging fourteen hours a day. For, after I had gathered an immense bulk of notes, much greater toil was necessary to reduce them to form and gain a clear idea of the meaning of the sounds, their relation to each other, and the intelligence conveyed by certain arrangements of them. It seems like a plagiarism from the old folk-tales to assert that at the end of two years I had learned the language of the bees; but this is not the first occasion upon which science has verified the old, blind guesses of fiction.

      Their language is —   but I dare not trust myself to speak of it: first, because I lack space; and secondly, because I am preparing an elaborate paper upon the subject to be read before the Academy of Sciences, and this fascinating topic is there more fully and lucidly treated than is possible within the limits of a magazine article. After arriving at a comprehension of what was said, and picking up many tantalizing fragments of information by what might be called scientific eavesdropping, I became possessed of an intense desire to solve, by questioning the bees, some of the problems in their social economy which have puzzled all investigators. The labor of composing for myself an instrument of horse-hair and whale-bone (fully described in the paper to be read before the Academy), which would give me the power of reproducing the simple sounds of the bee language, was but a trifle as compared with my efforts to first learn that language, and occupied me but a brief space.

      My first experiment at conversing was with a drone — a member of the hive that had furnished me with subjects for investigation. The attempt was only partially successful at first; but the revelations I extracted from this insect were so remarkable, that I made him the subject of all further questionings, and from him I derived the facts which I here present as a warning to my fellow-man. The following was secured by fragments; and I have, for the greater convenience of my readers, condensed the substance of many conversations, eliminated extraneous details, and presented it in as compact and convenient a form as possible.

      This very intelligent insect said: "Our civilization is of vast age. Almost from the first we were gathered into communities, the methods of organizing which have undergone the most radical fluctuations. You will be surprised to learn that though many thousand years ago our form of government was monarchical as at present, the sovereign instead of being a queen was invariably of my own sex. And not only was this true, but also the females in most hives were fewer in number than the males, and did not work at collecting honey; they were occupied at home in laying eggs and caring for the young. The work of building the comb and collecting honey was entirely performed by male bees. I am proud to say the hexagonal school of comb architecture was invented and perfected during the male régime, and so far has never been improved upon. There was a queen, of course; but she performed only the duties of consort to the king, and of bringing forth eggs which contained the germs of future sovereigns.

      "Possibly the regulations concerning the lives of the females were somewhat onerous. It is at least certain that they passed their whole existence within the hive in which they happened to be born. They ate the honey provided by the males, reared their offspring, and never sallied forth for either work or play. When a new hive was formed by a young colony, the females were hastily conducted to the home prepared and selected by the males, were at once incarcerated, and never saw the outer world again. The males, of course, in their search for food went everywhere, and it was not infrequent for them to endeavor to enter other hives; but a very strict guard was kept at the entrance, and the enterprise was always attended with danger.

      "In course of time the hereditary monarchical form of domination became modified, and during the period of turbulence which marked the transition to elective monarchy, the strictness of the regulations concerning the females was somewhat relaxed. It was at that period also, when, in many hives, the number of males had been reduced by war, that the older and more robust females were permitted to make short excursions from the hive to procure the necessary food to keep the young bees alive. Monarchy was finally quite abolished in all the communities, and the form of government became entirely democratic. This was followed by an abolition of all the old rules governing females; they began to share in the search for food, and took upon themselves the duties of paternity also. As a result of this more active life on their part, the number of eggs hatching females began to exceed those producing males; and with the growing preponderance of their sex they began to insist upon having a voice in the government of the hive.

      "This was strenuously resisted at the time, but at length their importunities prevailed; and ere-long, from the superiority of their numbers, the election of the Grand Master Bee lay virtually in their hands. It was not long before the idea of a female ruler was suggested and eventually carried out. No male ever again governed.

      "The democratic government lasted a long while, but in time a return was made to a nominal sovereignty, though the power in reality remains in the hands of the workers. The whole economy of our social system was slowly but surely revolutionized. War was abolished, and by the ever-increasing preponderance of females the business of providing for the hives was taken out of our hands. As the females became more and more industrious and obliged to make longer excursions for food, the cares of maternity became more burdensome, and the workers shirked it, leaving a few to perform this duty. Finally, by long process of selection it devolved upon one female, who was rewarded by a position of nominal sovreignty. The workers having abandoned the duties, lost in great part the functions of maternity, and became what you see them now. There being but one real female in each hive, and war being forbidden, it became the custom of the workers to destroy the greater number of the young males, leaving only a few subordinate individuals called drones.

      "I sometimes rebel in spirit against the degradation of my sex, but masculine indifference and the long habit of subjection has so enfeebled us that any attempt to regain equality would be fruitless. There is nothing left for us but to eat, idle, and be content."

      As I slowly pieced together this remarkable history, I was overcome by the hideous suggestions for humanity it contained. It became evident at once that my plain duty pointed towards the immediate communication of my discovery in the most public manner possible; and, as I am informed by those familiar with such matters, that the literary serials reach a prodigious number of readers, I have endeavored to overcome the reluctance arising from ignorance of the graces of style and the form best suited to such publications, and through their means convey this pregnant warning to my sex while it is yet time.

ELIZABETH BISLAND.