No More Learning

With this material they besmear the
groundwork, to provide against attacks of other creatures; the
bee-keepers call this stuff 'stop-wax'. They also with the same
material narrow by side-building the entrances to the hive if they are
too wide. They first build cells for themselves; then for the
so-called kings and the drones; for themselves they are always
building, for the kings only when the brood of young is numerous,
and cells for the drones they build if a superabundance of honey
should suggest their doing so. They build the royal cells next to
their own, and they are of small bulk; the drones' cells they build
near by, and these latter are less in bulk than the bee's cells.

They begin building the combs downwards from the top of the
hive, and go down and down building many combs connected together
until they reach the bottom. The cells, both those for the honey and
those also for the grubs, are double-doored; for two cells are
ranged about a single base, one pointing one way and one the other,
after the manner of a double (or hour-glass-shaped) goblet. The
cells that lie at the commencement of the combs and are attached to
the hives, to the extent of two or three concentric circular rows, are
small and devoid of honey; the cells that are well filled with honey
are most thoroughly luted with wax. At the entry to the hive the
aperture of the doorway is smeared with mitys; this substance is a
deep black, and is a sort of dross or residual by-product of wax; it
has a pungent odour, and is a cure for bruises and suppurating
sores. The greasy stuff that comes next is pitch-wax; it has a less
pungent odour and is less medicinal than the mitys. Some say that
the drones construct combs by themselves in the same hive and in the
same comb that they share with the bees; but that they make no
honey, but subsist, they and their grubs also, on the honey made by
the bees. The drones, as a rule, keep inside the hive; when they go
out of doors, they soar up in the air in a stream, whirling round
and round in a kind of gymnastic exercise; when this is over, they
come inside the hive and feed to repletion ravenously. The kings never
quit the hive, except in conjunction with the entire swarm, either for
food or for any other reason. They say that, if a young swarm go
astray, it will turn back upon its route and by the aid of scent
seek out its leader. It is said that if he is unable to fly he is
carried by the swarm, and that if he dies the swarm perishes; and
that, if this swarm outlives the king for a while and constructs
combs, no honey is produced and the bees soon die out.

Bees scramble up the stalks of flowers and rapidly gather the
bees-wax with their front legs; the front legs wipe it off on to the
middle legs, and these pass it on to the hollow curves of the
hind-legs; when thus laden, they fly away home, and one may see
plainly that their load is a heavy one. On each expedition the bee
does not fly from a flower of one kind to a flower of another, but
flies from one violet, say, to another violet, and never meddles
with another flower until it has got back to the hive; on reaching the
hive they throw off their load, and each bee on his return is
accompanied by three or four companions. One cannot well tell what
is the substance they gather, nor the exact process of their work.
Their mode of gathering wax has been observed on olive-trees, as owing
to the thickness of the leaves the bees remain stationary for a
considerable while. After this work is over, they attend to the grubs.
There is nothing to prevent grubs, honey, and drones being all found
in one and the same comb. As long as the leader is alive, the drones
are said to be produced apart by themselves; if he be no longer
living, they are said to be reared by the bees in their own cells, and
under these circumstances to become more spirited: for this reason
they are called 'sting-drones', not that they really have stings,
but that they have the wish without the power, to use such weapons.
The cells for the drones are larger than the others; sometimes the
bees construct cells for the drones apart, but usually they put them
in amongst their own; and when this is the case the bee-keepers cut
the drone-cells out of the combs.

There are several species of bees, as has been said; two of
'kings', the better kind red, the other black and variegated, and
twice as big as the working-bee. The best workingbee is small,
round, and speckled: another kind is long and like an anthrene wasp;
another kind is what is called the robber-bee, black and flat-bellied;
then there is the drone, the largest of all, but devoid of sting,
and lazy. There is a difference between the progeny of bees that
inhabit cultivated land and of those from the mountains: the
forest-bees are more shaggy, smaller, more industrious and more
fierce. Working-bees make their combs all even, with the superficial
covering quite smooth. Each comb is of one kind only: that is, it
contains either bees only, or grubs only, or drones only; if it
happen, however, that they make in one and the same comb all these
kinds of cells, each separate kind will be built in a continuous row
right through. The long bees build uneven combs, with the lids of
the cells protuberant, like those of the anthrene; grubs and
everything else have no fixed places, but are put anywhere; from these
bees come inferior kings, a large quantity of drones, and the
so-called robber-bee; they produce either no honey at all, or honey in
very small quantities. Bees brood over the combs and so mature them;
if they fail to do so, the combs are said to go bad and to get covered
with a sort of spider's web. If they can keep brooding over the part
undamaged, the damaged part simply eats itself away; if they cannot so
brood, the entire comb perishes; in the damaged combs small worms
are engendered, which take on wings and fly away. When the combs
keep settling down, the bees restore the level surface, and put
props underneath the combs to give themselves free passage-room; for
if such free passage be lacking they cannot brood, and the cobwebs
come on. When the robber-bee and the drone appear, not only do they do
no work themselves, but they actually damage the work of the other
bees; if they are caught in the act, they are killed by the
working-bees. These bees also kill without mercy most of their
kings, and especially kings of the inferior sort; and this they do for
fear a multiplicity of kings should lead to a dismemberment of the
hive. They kill them especially when the hive is deficient in grubs,
and a swarm is not intended to take place; under these circumstances
they destroy the cells of the kings if they have been prepared, on the
ground that these kings are always ready to lead out swarms. They
destroy also the combs of the drones if a failure in the supply be
threatening and the hive runs short of provisions; under such
circumstances they fight desperately with all who try to take their
honey, and eject from the hive all the resident drones; and oftentimes
the drones are to be seen sitting apart in the hive. The little bees
fight vigorously with the long kind, and try to banish them from the
hives; if they succeed, the hive will be unusually productive, but
if the bigger bees get left mistresses of the field they pass the time
in idleness, and no good at all but die out before the autumn.
Whenever the working-bees kill an enemy they try to do so out of
doors; and whenever one of their own body dies, they carry the dead
bee out of doors also. The so-called robber-bees spoil their own
combs, and, if they can do so unnoticed, enter and spoil the combs
of other bees; if they are caught in the act they are put to death. It
is no easy task for them to escape detection, for there are
sentinels on guard at every entry; and, even if they do escape
detection on entering, afterwards from a surfeit of food they cannot
fly, but go rolling about in front of the hive, so that their
chances of escape are small indeed. The kings are never themselves
seen outside the hive except with a swarm in flight: during which time
all the other bees cluster around them. When the flight of a swarm
is imminent, a monotonous and quite peculiar sound made by all the
bees is heard for several days, and for two or three days in advance a
few bees are seen flying round the hive; it has never as yet been
ascertained, owing to the difficulty of the observation, whether or no
the king is among these. When they have swarmed, they fly away and
separate off to each of the kings; if a small swarm happens to
settle near to a large one, it will shift to join this large one,
and if the king whom they have abandoned follows them, they put him to
death. So much for the quitting of the hive and the swarmflight.
Separate detachments of bees are told off for diverse operations; that
is, some carry flower-produce, others carry water, others smooth and
arrange the combs. A bee carries water when it is rearing grubs. No
bee ever settles on the flesh of any creature, or ever eats animal
food. They have no fixed date for commencing work; but when their
provender is forthcoming and they are in comfortable trim, and by
preference in summer, they set to work, and when the weather is fine
they work incessantly.

The bee, when quite young and in fact only three days old, after
shedding its chrysalis-case, begins to work if it be well fed. When
a swarm is settling, some bees detach themselves in search of food and
return back to the swarm. In hives that are in good condition the
production of young bees is discontinued only for the forty days
that follow the winter solstice. When the grubs are grown, the bees
put food beside them and cover them with a coating of wax; and, as
soon as the grub is strong enough, he of his own accord breaks the lid
and comes out. Creatures that make their appearance in hives and spoil
the combs the working-bees clear out, but the other bees from sheer
laziness look with indifference on damage done to their produce.
When the bee-masters take out the combs, they leave enough food behind
for winter use; if it be sufficient in quantity, the occupants of
the hive will survive; if it be insufficient, then, if the weather
be rough, they die on the spot, but if it be fair, they fly away and
desert the hive. They feed on honey summer and winter; but they
store up another article of food resembling wax in hardness, which
by some is called sandarace, or bee-bread. Their worst enemies are
wasps and the birds named titmice, and furthermore the swallow and the
bee-eater. The frogs in the marsh also catch them if they come in
their way by the water-side, and for this reason bee-keepers chase the
frogs from the ponds from which the bees take water; they destroy also
wasps' nests, and the nests of swallows, in the neighbourhood of the
hives, and also the nests of bee-eaters. Bees have fear only of one
another. They fight with one another and with wasps. Away from the
hive they attack neither their own species nor any other creature, but
in the close proximity of the hive they kill whatever they get hold
of. Bees that sting die from their inability to extract the sting
without at the same time extracting their intestines. True, they often
recover, if the person stung takes the trouble to press the sting out;
but once it loses its sting the bee must die. They can kill with their
stings even large animals; in fact, a horse has been known to have
been stung to death by them. The kings are the least disposed to
show anger or to inflict a sting. Bees that die are removed from the
hive, and in every way the creature is remarkable for its cleanly
habits; in point of fact, they often fly away to a distance to void
their excrement because it is malodorous; and, as has been said,
they are annoyed by all bad smells and by the scent of perfumes, so
much so that they sting people that use perfumes.

They perish from a number of accidental causes, and when their
kings become too numerous and try each to carry away a portion of
the swarm.

The toad also feeds on bees; he comes to the doorway of the
hive, puffs himself out as he sits on the watch, and devours the
creatures as they come flying out; the bees can in no way retaliate,
but the bee-keeper makes a point of killing him.

As for the class of bee that has been spoken of as inferior or
good-for-nothing, and as constructing its combs so roughly, some
bee-keepers say that it is the young bees that act so from
inexperience; and the bees of the current year are termed young. The
young bees do not sting as the others do; and it is for this reason
that swarms may be safely carried, as it is of young bees that they
are composed. When honey runs short they expel the drones, and the
bee-keepers supply the bees with figs and sweet-tasting articles of
food. The elder bees do the indoor work, and are rough and hairy
from staying indoors; the young bees do the outer carrying, and are
comparatively smooth. They kill the drones also when in their work
they are confined for room; the drones, by the way, live in the
innermost recess of the hive. On one occasion, when a hive was in a
poor condition, some of the occupants assailed a foreign hive; proving
victorious in a combat they took to carrying off the honey; when the
bee-keeper tried to kill them, the other bees came out and tried to
beat off the enemy but made no attempt to sting the man.

The diseases that chiefly attack prosperous hives are first of all
the clerus-this consists in a growth of little worms on the floor,
from which, as they develop, a kind of cobweb grows over the entire
hive, and the combs decay; another diseased condition is indicated
in a lassitude on the part of the bees and in malodorousness of the
hive. Bees feed on thyme; and the white thyme is better than the
red. In summer the place for the hive should be cool, and in winter
warm. They are very apt to fall sick if the plant they are at work
on be mildewed. In a high wind they carry a stone by way of ballast to
steady them. If a stream be near at hand, they drink from it and
from it only, but before they drink they first deposit their load;
if there be no water near at hand, they disgorge their honey as they
drink elsewhere, and at once make off to work. There are two seasons
for making honey, spring and autumn; the spring honey is sweeter,
whiter, and in every way better than the autumn honey. Superior
honey comes from fresh comb, and from young shoots; the red honey is
inferior, and owes its inferiority to the comb in which it is
deposited, just as wine is apt to be spoiled by its cask;
consequently, one should have it looked to and dried. When the thyme
is in flower and the comb is full, the honey does not harden. The
honey that is golden in hue is excellent. White honey does not come
from thyme pure and simple; it is good as a salve for sore eyes and
wounds. Poor honey always floats on the surface and should be
skimmed off; the fine clear honey rests below. When the floral world
is in full bloom, then they make wax; consequently you must then
take the wax out of the hive, for they go to work on new wax at
once. The flowers from which they gather honey are as follows: the
spindle-tree, the melilot-clover, king's-spear, myrtle,
flowering-reed, withy, and broom. When they work at thyme, they mix in
water before sealing up the comb. As has been already stated, they all
either fly to a distance to discharge their excrement or make the
discharge into one single comb. The little bees, as has been said, are
more industrious than the big ones; their wings are battered; their
colour is black, and they have a burnt-up aspect. Gaudy and showy
bees, like gaudy and showy women, are good-for-nothings.

Bees seem to take a pleasure in listening to a rattling noise; and
consequently men say that they can muster them into a hive by rattling
with crockery or stones; it is uncertain, however, whether or no
they can hear the noise at all and also whether their procedure is due
to pleasure or alarm. They expel from the hive all idlers and
unthrifts. As has been said, they differentiate their work; some
make wax, some make honey, some make bee-bread, some shape and mould
combs, some bring water to the cells and mingle it with the honey,
some engage in out-of-door work. At early dawn they make no noise,
until some one particular bee makes a buzzing noise two or three times
and thereby awakes the rest; hereupon they all fly in a body to
work. By and by they return and at first are noisy; then the noise
gradually decreases, until at last some one bee flies round about,
making a buzzing noise, and apparently calling on the others to go
to sleep; then all of a sudden there is a dead silence.

The hive is known to be in good condition if the noise heard
within it is loud, and if the bees make a flutter as they go out and
in; for at this time they are constructing brood-cells. They suffer
most from hunger when they recommence work after winter. They become
somewhat lazy if the bee-keeper, in robbing the hive, leave behind too
much honey; still one should leave cells numerous in proportion to the
population, for the bees work in a spiritless way if too few combs are
left. They become idle also, as being dispirited, if the hive be too
big. A hive yields to the bee-keeper six or nine pints of honey; a
prosperous hive will yield twelve or fifteen pints, exceptionally good
hives eighteen. Sheep and, as has been said, wasps are enemies to
the bees. Bee-keepers entrap the latter, by putting a flat dish on the
ground with pieces of meat on it; when a number of the wasps settle on
it, they cover them with a lid and put the dish and its contents on
the fire. It is a good thing to have a few drones in a hive, as
their presence increases the industry of the workers. Bees can tell
the approach of rough weather or of rain; and the proof is that they
will not fly away, but even while it is as yet fine they go fluttering
about within a restricted space, and the bee-keeper knows from this
that they are expecting bad weather. When the bees inside the hive
hang clustering to one another, it is a sign that the swarm is
intending to quit; consequently, occasion, when a bee-keepers, on
seeing this, besprinkle the hive with sweet wine. It is advisable to
plant about the hives pear-trees, beans, Median-grass, Syrian-grass,
yellow pulse, myrtle, poppies, creeping-thyme, and almond-trees.
Some bee-keepers sprinkle their bees with flour, and can distinguish
them from others when they are at work out of doors. If the spring
be late, or if there be drought or blight, then grubs are all the
fewer in the hives. So much for the habits of bees.

41

Of wasps, there are two kinds. Of these kinds one is wild and
scarce, lives on the mountains, engenders grubs not underground but on
oak-trees, is larger, longer, and blacker than the other kind, is
invariably speckled and furnished with a sting, and is remarkably
courageous. The pain from its sting is more severe than that caused by
the others, for the instrument that causes the pain is larger, in
proportion to its own larger size. These wild live over into a
second year, and in winter time, when oaks have been in course of
felling, they may be seen coming out and flying away. They lie
concealed during the winter, and live in the interior of logs of wood.
Some of them are mother-wasps and some are workers, as with the
tamer kind; but it is by observation of the tame wasps that one may
learn the varied characteristics of the mothers and the workers. For
in the case of the tame wasps also there are two kinds; one consists
of leaders, who are called mothers, and the other of workers. The
leaders are far larger and milder-tempered than the others. The
workers do not live over into a second year, but all die when winter
comes on; and this can be proved, for at the commencement of winter
the workers become drowsy, and about the time of the winter solstice
they are never seen at all. The leaders, the so-called mothers, are
seen all through the winter, and live in holes underground; for men
when ploughing or digging in winter have often come upon mother-wasps,
but never upon workers. The mode of reproduction of wasps is as
follows. At the approach of summer, when the leaders have found a
sheltered spot, they take to moulding their combs, and construct the
so-called sphecons,-little nests containing four cells or thereabouts,
and in these are produced working-wasps but not mothers. When these
are grown up, then they construct other larger combs upon the first,
and then again in like manner others; so that by the close of autumn
there are numerous large combs in which the leader, the so-called
mother, engenders no longer working-wasps but mothers. These develop
high up in the nest as large grubs, in cells that occur in groups of
four or rather more, pretty much in the same way as we have seen the
grubs of the king-bees to be produced in their cells. After the
birth of the working-grubs in the cells, the leaders do nothing and
the workers have to supply them with nourishment; and this is inferred
from the fact that the leaders (of the working-wasps) no longer fly
out at this time, but rest quietly indoors. Whether the leaders of
last year after engendering new leaders are killed by the new brood,
and whether this occurs invariably or whether they can live for a
longer time, has not been ascertained by actual observation; neither
can we speak with certainty, as from observation, as to the age
attained by the mother-wasp or by the wild wasps, or as to any other
similar phenomenon. The mother-wasp is broad and heavy, fatter and
larger than the ordinary wasp, and from its weight not very strong
on the wing; these wasps cannot fly far, and for this reason they
always rest inside the nest, building and managing its indoor
arrangements. The so-called mother-wasps are found in most of the
nests; it is a matter of doubt whether or no they are provided with
stings; in all probability, like the king-bees, they have stings,
but never protrude them for offence. Of the ordinary wasps some are
destitute of stings, like the drone-bees, and some are provided with
them. Those unprovided therewith are smaller and less spirited and
never fight, while the others are big and courageous; and these
latter, by some, are called males, and the stingless, females. At
the approach of winter many of the wasps that have stings appear to
lose them; but we have never met an eyewitness of this phenomenon.
Wasps are more abundant in times of drought and in wild localities.
They live underground; their combs they mould out of chips and
earth, each comb from a single origin, like a kind of root. They
feed on certain flowers and fruits, but for the most part on animal
food. Some of the tame wasps have been observed when sexually
united, but it was not determined whether both, or neither, had
stings, or whether one had a sting and the other had not; wild wasps
have been seen under similar circumstances, when one was seen to
have a sting but the case of the other was left undetermined. The
wasp-grub does not appear to come into existence by parturition, for
at the outset the grub is too big to be the offspring of a wasp. If
you take a wasp by the feet and let him buzz with the vibration of his
wings, wasps that have no stings will fly toward it, and wasps that
have stings will not; from which fact it is inferred by some that
one set are males and the other females. In holes in the ground in
winter-time wasps are found, some with stings, and some without.
Some build cells, small and few in number; others build many and large
ones. The so-called mothers are caught at the change of season, mostly
on elm-trees, while gathering a substance sticky and gumlike. A
large number of mother-wasps are found when in the previous year wasps
have been numerous and the weather rainy; they are captured in
precipitous places, or in vertical clefts in the ground, and they
all appear to be furnished with stings.

42

So much for the habits of wasps.

Anthrenae do not subsist by culling from flowers as bees do, but
for the most part on animal food: for this reason they hover about
dung; for they chase the large flies, and after catching them lop
off their heads and fly away with the rest of the carcases; they are
furthermore fond of sweet fruits. Such is their food. They have also
kings or leaders like bees and wasps; and their leaders are larger
in proportion to themselves than are wasp-kings to wasps or
bee-kings to bees. The anthrena-king, like the wasp-king, lives
indoors. Anthrenae build their nests underground, scraping out the
soil like ants; for neither anthrenae nor wasps go off in swarms as
bees do, but successive layers of young anthrenae keep to the same
habitat, and go on enlarging their nest by scraping out more and
more of soil. The nest accordingly attains a great size; in fact, from
a particularly prosperous nest have been removed three and even four
baskets full of combs. They do not, like bees, store up food, but pass
the winter in a torpid condition; the greater part of them die in
the winter, but it is uncertain whether that can be said of them
all, In the hives of bees several kings are found and they lead off
detachments in swarms, but in the anthrena's nest only one king is
found. When individual anthrenae have strayed from their nest, they
cluster on a tree and construct combs, as may be often seen
above-ground, and in this nest they produce a king; when the king is
full-grown, he leads them away and settles them along with himself
in a hive or nest. With regard to their sexual unions, and the
method of their reproduction, nothing is known from actual
observation. Among bees both the drones and the kings are stingless,
and so are certain wasps, as has been said; but anthrenae appear to be
all furnished with stings: though, by the way, it would well be
worth while to carry out investigation as to whether the anthrena-king
has a sting or not.

43

Humble-bees produce their young under a stone, right on the
ground, in a couple of cells or little more; in these cells is found
an attempt at honey, of a poor description. The tenthredon is like the
anthrena, but speckled, and about as broad as a bee. Being epicures as
to their food, they fly, one at a time, into kitchens and on to slices
of fish and the like dainties. The tenthredon brings forth, like the
wasp, underground, and is very prolific; its nest is much bigger and
longer than that of the wasp. So much for the methods of working and
the habits of life of the bee, the wasp, and all the other similar
insects.

44

As regards the disposition or temper of animals, as has been
previously observed, one may detect great differences in respect to
courage and timidity, as also, even among wild animals, in regard to
tameness and wildness. The lion, while he is eating, is most
ferocious; but when he is not hungry and has had a good meal, he is
quite gentle. He is totally devoid of suspicion or nervous fear, is
fond of romping with animals that have been reared along with him
and to whom he is accustomed, and manifests great affection towards
them. In the chase, as long as he is in view, he makes no attempt to
run and shows no fear, but even if he be compelled by the multitude of
the hunters to retreat, he withdraws deliberately, step by step, every
now and then turning his head to regard his pursuers. If, however,
he reach wooded cover, then he runs at full speed, until he comes to
open ground, when he resumes his leisurely retreat. When, in the open,
he is forced by the number of the hunters to run while in full view,
he does run at the top of his speed, but without leaping and bounding.
This running of his is evenly and continuously kept up like the
running of a dog; but when he is in pursuit of his prey and is close
behind, he makes a sudden pounce upon it. The two statements made
regarding him are quite true; the one that he is especially afraid
of fire, as Homer pictures him in the line-'and glowing torches,
which, though fierce he dreads,'-and the other, that he keeps a steady
eye upon the hunter who hits him, and flings himself upon him. If a
hunter hit him, without hurting him, then if with a bound he gets hold
of him, he will do him no harm, not even with his claws, but after
shaking him and giving him a fright will let him go again. They invade
the cattle-folds and attack human beings when they are grown old and
so by reason of old age and the diseased condition of their teeth
are unable to pursue their wonted prey. They live to a good old age.
The lion who was captured when lame, had a number of his teeth broken;
which fact was regarded by some as a proof of the longevity of
lions, as he could hardly have been reduced to this condition except
at an advanced age. There are two species of lions, the plump,
curly-maned, and the long-bodied, straight maned; the latter kind is
courageous, and the former comparatively timid; sometimes they run
away with their tail between their legs, like a dog. A lion was once
seen to be on the point of attacking a boar, but to run away when
the boar stiffened his bristles in defence. It is susceptible of
hurt from a wound in the flank, but on any other part of its frame
will endure any number of blows, and its head is especially hard.
Whenever it inflicts a wound, either by its teeth or its claws,
there flows from the wounded parts suppurating matter, quite yellow,
and not to be stanched by bandage or sponge; the treatment for such
a wound is the same as that for the bite of a dog.

The thos, or civet, is fond of man's company; it does him no
harm and is not much afraid of him, but it is an enemy to the dog
and the lion, and consequently is not found in the same habitat with
them. The little ones are the best. Some say that there are two
species of the animal, and some say, three; there are probably not
more than three, but, as is the case with certain of the fishes,
birds, and quadrupeds, this animal changes in appearance with the
change of season. His colour in winter is not the same as it is in
summer; in summer the animal is smooth-haired, in winter he is clothed
in fur.

45

The bison is found in Paeonia on Mount Messapium, which
separates Paeonia from Maedica; and the Paeonians call it the monapos.
It is the size of a bull, but stouter in build, and not long in the
body; its skin, stretched tight on a frame, would give sitting room
for seven people. In general it resembles the ox in appearance, except
that it has a mane that reaches down to the point of the shoulder,
as that of the horse reaches down to its withers; but the hair in
its mane is softer than the hair in the horse's mane, and clings
more closely. The colour of the hair is brown-yellow; the mane reaches
down to the eyes, and is deep and thick. The colour of the body is
half red, half ashen-grey, like that of the so-called chestnut
horse, but rougher. It has an undercoat of woolly hair. The animal
is not found either very black or very red. It has the bellow of a
bull. Its horns are crooked, turned inwards towards each other and
useless for purposes of self-defence; they are a span broad, or a
little more, and in volume each horn would hold about three pints of
liquid; the black colour of the horn is beautiful and bright. The tuft
of hair on the forehead reaches down to the eyes, so that the animal
sees objects on either flank better than objects right in front. It
has no upper teeth, as is the case also with kine and all other horned
animals. Its legs are hairy; it is cloven-footed, and the tail,
which resembles that of the ox, seems not big enough for the size of
its body. It tosses up dust and scoops out the ground with its hooves,
like the bull. Its skin is impervious to blows. Owing to the savour of
its flesh it is sought for in the chase. When it is wounded it runs
away, and stops only when thoroughly exhausted. It defends itself
against an assailant by kicking and projecting its excrement to a
distance of eight yards; this device it can easily adopt over and over
again, and the excrement is so pungent that the hair of hunting-dogs
is burnt off by it. It is only when the animal is disturbed or alarmed
that the dung has this property; when the animal is undisturbed it has
no blistering effect. So much for the shape and habits of the
animal. When the season comes for parturition the mothers give birth
to their young in troops upon the mountains. Before dropping their
young they scatter their dung in all directions, making a kind of
circular rampart around them; for the animal has the faculty of
ejecting excrement in most extraordinary quantities.

46

Of all wild animals the most easily tamed and the gentlest is
the elephant. It can be taught a number of tricks, the drift and
meaning of which it understands; as, for instance, it can taught to
kneel in presence of the king. It is very sensitive, and possessed
of an intelligence superior to that of other animals.
When the male
has had sexual union with the female, and the female has conceived,
the male has no further intercourse with her.

Some say that the elephant lives for two hundred years;
others, for one hundred and twenty; that the female lives nearly as
long as the male; that they reach their prime about the age of
sixty, and that they are sensitive to inclement weather and frost. The
elephant is found by the banks of rivers, but he is not a river
animal; he can make his way through water, as long as the tip of his
trunk can be above the surface, for he blows with his trunk and
breathes through it. The animal is a poor swimmer owing to the heavy
weight of his body.

47

The male camel declines intercourse with its mother; if his keeper
tries compulsion, he evinces disinclination. On one occasion, when
intercourse was being declined by the young male, the keeper covered
over the mother and put the young male to her; but, when after the
intercourse the wrapping had been removed, though the operation was
completed and could not be revoked, still by and by he bit his
keeper to death. A story goes that the king of Scythia had a
highly-bred mare, and that all her foals were splendid; that wishing
to mate the best of the young males with the mother, he had him
brought to the stall for the purpose; that the young horse declined;
that, after the mother's head had been concealed in a wrapper he, in
ignorance, had intercourse; and that, when immediately afterwards
the wrapper was removed and the head of the mare was rendered visible,
the young horse ran way and hurled himself down a precipice.

48

Among the sea-fishes many stories are told about the dolphin,
indicative of his gentle and kindly nature, and of manifestations of
passionate attachment to boys, in and about Tarentum, Caria, and other
places. The story goes that, after a dolphin had been caught and
wounded off the coast of Caria, a shoal of dolphins came into the
harbour and stopped there until the fisherman let his captive go free;
whereupon the shoal departed. A shoal of young dolphins is always,
by way of protection, followed by a large one. On one occasion a shoal
of dolphins, large and small, was seen, and two dolphins at a little
distance appeared swimming in underneath a little dead dolphin when it
was sinking, and supporting it on their backs, trying out of
compassion to prevent its being devoured by some predaceous fish.
Incredible stories are told regarding the rapidity of movement of this
creature. It appears to be the fleetest of all animals, marine and
terrestrial, and it can leap over the masts of large vessels. This
speed is chiefly manifested when they are pursuing a fish for food;
then, if the fish endeavours to escape, they pursue him in their
ravenous hunger down to deep waters; but, when the necessary return
swim is getting too long, they hold in their breath, as though
calculating the length of it, and then draw themselves together for an
effort and shoot up like arrows, trying to make the long ascent
rapidly in order to breathe, and in the effort they spring right
over the a ship's masts if a ship be in the vicinity. This same
phenomenon is observed in divers, when they have plunged into deep
water; that is, they pull themselves together and rise with a speed
proportional to their strength. Dolphins live together in pairs,
male and female. It is not known for what reason they run themselves
aground on dry land; at all events, it is said that they do so at
times, and for no obvious reason.

49

Just as with all animals a change of action follows a change
of circumstance, so also a change of character follows a change of
action, and often some portions of the physical frame undergo a
change, occurs in the case of birds. Hens, for instance, when they
have beaten the cock in a fight, will crow like the cock and endeavour
to tread him; the crest rises up on their head and the tail-feathers
on the rump, so that it becomes difficult to recognize that they are
hens; in some cases there is a growth of small spurs. On the death
of a hen a cock has been seen to undertake the maternal duties,
leading the chickens about and providing them with food, and so intent
upon these duties as to cease crowing and indulging his sexual
propensities. Some cock-birds are congenitally so feminine that they
will submit patiently to other males who attempt to tread them.

50

Some animals change their form and character, not only at
certain ages and at certain seasons, but in consequence of being
castrated; and all animals possessed of testicles may be submitted
to this operation. Birds have their testicles inside, and oviparous
quadrupeds close to the loins; and of viviparous animals that walk
some have them inside, and most have them outside, but all have them
at the lower end of the belly. Birds are castrated at the rump at
the part where the two sexes unite in copulation. If you burn this
twice or thrice with hot irons, then, if the bird be full-grown, his
crest grows sallow, he ceases to crow, and foregoes sexual passion;
but if you cauterize the bird when young, none of these male
attributes propensities will come to him as he grows up. The case is
the same with men: if you mutilate them in boyhood, the
later-growing hair never comes, and the voice never changes but
remains high-pitched; if they be mutilated in early manhood, the
late growths of hair quit them except the growth on the groin, and
that diminishes but does not entirely depart. The congenital growths
of hair never fall out, for a eunuch never grows bald. In the case
of all castrated or mutilated male quadrupeds the voice changes to the
feminine voice. All other quadrupeds when castrated, unless the
operation be performed when they are young, invariably die; but in the
case of boars, and in their case only, the age at which the
operation is performed produces no difference. All animals, if
operated on when they are young, become bigger and better looking than
their unmutilated fellows; if they be mutilated when full-grown,
they do not take on any increase of size. If stags be mutilated, when,
by reason of their age, they have as yet no horns, they never grow
horns at all; if they be mutilated when they have horns, the horns
remain unchanged in size, and the animal does not lose them. Calves
are mutilated when a year old; otherwise, they turn out uglier and
smaller. Steers are mutilated in the following way: they turn the
animal over on its back, cut a little off the scrotum at the lower
end, and squeeze out the testicles, then push back the roots of them
as far as they can, and stop up the incision with hair to give an
outlet to suppurating matter; if inflammation ensues, they cauterize
the scrotum and put on a plaster. If a full-grown bull be mutilated,
he can still to all appearance unite sexually with the cow. The
ovaries of sows are excised with the view of quenching in them
sexual appetites and of stimulating growth in size and fatness. The
sow has first to be kept two days without food, and, after being
hung up by the hind legs, it is operated on; they cut the lower belly,
about the place where the boars have their testicles, for it is
there that the ovary grows, adhering to the two divisions (or horns)
of the womb; they cut off a little piece and stitch up the incision.
Female camels are mutilated when they are wanted for war purposes, and
are mutilated to prevent their being got with young. Some of the
inhabitants of Upper Asia have as many as three thousand camels:
when they run, they run, in consequence of the length of their stride,
much quicker than the horses of Nisaea. As a general rule, mutilated
animals grow to a greater length than the unmutilated.

All animals that ruminate derive profit and pleasure from the
process of rumination, as they do from the process of eating. It is
the animals that lack the upper teeth that ruminate, such as kine,
sheep, and goats. In the case of wild animals no observation has
been possible; save in the case of animals that are occasionally
domesticated, such as the stag, and it, we know, chews the cud. All
animals that ruminate generally do so when lying down on the ground.
They carry on the process to the greatest extent in winter, and
stall-fed ruminants carry it on for about seven months in the year;
beasts that go in herds, as they get their food out of doors, ruminate
to a lesser degree and over a lesser period. Some, also, of the
animals that have teeth in both jaws ruminate; as, for instance, the
Pontic mice, and the fish which from the habit is by some called
'the Ruminant', (as well as other fish).

Long-limbed animals have loose faeces, and broad-chested animals
vomit with comparative facility, and these remarks are, in a general
way, applicable to quadrupeds, birds, and men.

49B

A considerable number of birds change according to season the
colour of their plumage and their note; as, for instance, the owsel
becomes yellow instead of black, and its note gets altered, for in
summer it has a musical note and in winter a discordant chatter. The
thrush also changes its colour; about the throat it is marked in
winter with speckles like a starling, in summer distinctly spotted:
however, it never alters its note. The nightingale, when the hills are
taking on verdure, sings continually for fifteen days and fifteen
nights; afterwards it sings, but not continuously. As summer
advances it has a different song, not so varied as before, nor so
deep, nor so intricately modulated, but simple; it also changes its
colour, and in Italy about this season it goes by a different name. It
goes into hiding, and is consequently visible only for a brief period.

The erithacus (or redbreast) and the so-called redstart change into
one another; the former is a winter bird, the latter a summer one, and
the difference between them is practically limited to the coloration
of their plumage. In the same way with the beccafico and the blackcap;
these change into one another. The beccafico appears about autumn, and
the blackcap as soon as autumn has ended. These birds, also, differ
from one another only in colour and note; that these birds, two in
name, are one in reality is proved by the fact that at the period when
the change is in progress each one has been seen with the change as
yet incomplete. It is not so very strange that in these cases there is
a change in note and in plumage, for even the ring-dove ceases to
coo in winter, and recommences cooing when spring comes in; in winter,
however, when fine weather has succeeded to very stormy weather,
this bird has been known to give its cooing note, to the
astonishment of such as were acquainted with its usual winter silence.
As a general rule, birds sing most loudly and most diversely in the
pairing season. The cuckoo changes its colour, and its note is not
clearly heard for a short time previous to its departure. It departs
about the rising of the Dog-star, and it reappears from springtime
to the rising of the Dog-star. At the rise of this star the bird
called by some oenanthe disappears, and reappears when it is
setting: thus keeping clear at one time of extreme cold, and at
another time of extreme heat. The hoopoe also changes its colour and
appearance, as Aeschylus has represented in the following lines:-

The Hoopoe, witness to his own distress,

Is clad by Zeus in variable dress:-

Now a gay mountain-bird, with knightly crest,

Now in the white hawk's silver plumage drest,

For, timely changing, on the hawk's white wing

He greets the apparition of the Spring.

Thus twofold form and colour are conferred,

In youth and age, upon the selfsame bird.

The spangled raiment marks his youthful days,

The argent his maturity displays;

And when the fields are yellow with ripe corn

Again his particoloured plumes are worn.

But evermore, in sullen discontent,

He seeks the lonely hills, in self-sought banishment.

Of birds, some take a dust-bath by rolling in dust, some take
a water-bath, and some take neither the one bath nor the other.
Birds that do not fly but keep on the ground take the dust-bath, as
for instance the hen, the partridge, the francolin, the crested
lark, the pheasant; some of the straight-taloned birds, and such as
live on the banks of a river, in marshes, or by the sea, take a
water-bath; some birds take both the dust-bath and the waterbath, as
for instance the pigeon and the sparrow; of the crooked-taloned
birds the greater part take neither the one bath nor the other. So
much for the ways of the above-mentioned, but some birds have a
peculiar habit of making a noise at their hinder quarters, as, for
instance, the turtle-dove; and they make a violent movement of their
tails at the same time that they produce this peculiar sound.

-THE END-
.

350 BC

CATEGORIES

by Aristotle

translated by E. M. Edghill

1

Things are said to be named 'equivocally' when, though they have a
common name, the definition corresponding with the name differs for
each. Thus, a real man and a figure in a picture can both lay claim to
the name 'animal'; yet these are equivocally so named, for, though
they have a common name, the definition corresponding with the name
differs for each. For should any one define in what sense each is an
animal, his definition in the one case will be appropriate to that
case only.

On the other hand, things are said to be named 'univocally' which
have both the name and the definition answering to the name in common.
A man and an ox are both 'animal', and these are univocally so
named, inasmuch as not only the name, but also the definition, is
the same in both cases: for if a man should state in what sense each
is an animal, the statement in the one case would be identical with
that in the other.

Things are said to be named 'derivatively', which derive their
name from some other name, but differ from it in termination. Thus the
grammarian derives his name from the word 'grammar', and the
courageous man from the word 'courage'.

2

Forms of speech are either simple or composite. Examples of the
latter are such expressions as 'the man runs', 'the man wins'; of the
former 'man', 'ox', 'runs', 'wins'.

Of things themselves some are predicable of a subject, and are never
present in a subject. Thus 'man' is predicable of the individual
man, and is never present in a subject.

By being 'present in a subject' I do not mean present as parts are
present in a whole, but being incapable of existence apart from the
said subject.

Some things, again, are present in a subject, but are never
predicable of a subject. For instance, a certain point of
grammatical knowledge is present in the mind, but is not predicable of
any subject; or again, a certain whiteness may be present in the
body (for colour requires a material basis), yet it is never
predicable of anything.

Other things, again, are both predicable of a subject and present in
a subject. Thus while knowledge is present in the human mind, it is
predicable of grammar.

There is, lastly, a class of things which are neither present in a
subject nor predicable of a subject, such as the individual man or the
individual horse. But, to speak more generally, that which is
individual and has the character of a unit is never predicable of a
subject. Yet in some cases there is nothing to prevent such being
present in a subject. Thus a certain point of grammatical knowledge is
present in a subject.

3

When one thing is predicated of another, all that which is
predicable of the predicate will be predicable also of the subject.
Thus, 'man' is predicated of the individual man; but 'animal' is
predicated of 'man'; it will, therefore, be predicable of the
individual man also: for the individual man is both 'man' and
'animal'.

If genera are different and co-ordinate, their differentiae are
themselves different in kind. Take as an instance the genus 'animal'
and the genus 'knowledge'. 'With feet', 'two-footed', 'winged',
'aquatic', are differentiae of 'animal'; the species of knowledge
are not distinguished by the same differentiae. One species of
knowledge does not differ from another in being 'two-footed'.

But where one genus is subordinate to another, there is nothing to
prevent their having the same differentiae: for the greater class is
predicated of the lesser, so that all the differentiae of the
predicate will be differentiae also of the subject.

4

Expressions which are in no way composite signify substance,
quantity, quality, relation, place, time, position, state, action,
or affection. To sketch my meaning roughly, examples of substance
are 'man' or 'the horse', of quantity, such terms as 'two cubits long'
or 'three cubits long', of quality, such attributes as 'white',
'grammatical'. 'Double', 'half', 'greater', fall under the category of
relation; 'in a the market place', 'in the Lyceum', under that of
place; 'yesterday', 'last year', under that of time. 'Lying',
'sitting', are terms indicating position, 'shod', 'armed', state;
'to lance', 'to cauterize', action; 'to be lanced', 'to be
cauterized', affection.

No one of these terms, in and by itself, involves an affirmation; it
is by the combination of such terms that positive or negative
statements arise. For every assertion must, as is admitted, be
either true or false, whereas expressions which are not in any way
composite such as 'man', 'white', 'runs', 'wins', cannot be either
true or false.

5

Substance, in the truest and primary and most definite sense of
the word, is that which is neither predicable of a subject nor present
in a subject; for instance, the individual man or horse. But in a
secondary sense those things are called substances within which, as
species, the primary substances are included; also those which, as
genera, include the species. For instance, the individual man is
included in the species 'man', and the genus to which the species
belongs is 'animal'; these, therefore-that is to say, the species
'man' and the genus 'animal,-are termed secondary substances.

It is plain from what has been said that both the name and the
definition of the predicate must be predicable of the subject. For
instance, 'man' is predicted of the individual man. Now in this case
the name of the species man' is applied to the individual, for we
use the term 'man' in describing the individual; and the definition of
'man' will also be predicated of the individual man, for the
individual man is both man and animal. Thus, both the name and the
definition of the species are predicable of the individual.

With regard, on the other hand, to those things which are present in
a subject, it is generally the case that neither their name nor
their definition is predicable of that in which they are present.
Though, however, the definition is never predicable, there is
nothing in certain cases to prevent the name being used. For instance,
'white' being present in a body is predicated of that in which it is
present, for a body is called white: the definition, however, of the
colour white' is never predicable of the body.

Everything except primary substances is either predicable of a
primary substance or present in a primary substance. This becomes
evident by reference to particular instances which occur. 'Animal'
is predicated of the species 'man', therefore of the individual man,
for if there were no individual man of whom it could be predicated, it
could not be predicated of the species 'man' at all. Again, colour
is present in body, therefore in individual bodies, for if there
were no individual body in which it was present, it could not be
present in body at all. Thus everything except primary substances is
either predicated of primary substances, or is present in them, and if
these last did not exist, it would be impossible for anything else
to exist.

Of secondary substances, the species is more truly substance than
the genus, being more nearly related to primary substance. For if
any one should render an account of what a primary substance is, he
would render a more instructive account, and one more proper to the
subject, by stating the species than by stating the genus. Thus, he
would give a more instructive account of an individual man by
stating that he was man than by stating that he was animal, for the
former description is peculiar to the individual in a greater
degree, while the latter is too general. Again, the man who gives an
account of the nature of an individual tree will give a more
instructive account by mentioning the species 'tree' than by
mentioning the genus 'plant'.

Moreover, primary substances are most properly called substances
in virtue of the fact that they are the entities which underlie every.
else, and that everything else is either predicated of them or present
in them. Now the same relation which subsists between primary
substance and everything else subsists also between the species and
the genus: for the species is to the genus as subject is to predicate,
since the genus is predicated of the species, whereas the species
cannot be predicated of the genus. Thus we have a second ground for
asserting that the species is more truly substance than the genus.

Of species themselves, except in the case of such as are genera,
no one is more truly substance than another. We should not give a more
appropriate account of the individual man by stating the species to
which he belonged, than we should of an individual horse by adopting
the same method of definition. In the same way, of primary substances,
no one is more truly substance than another; an individual man is
not more truly substance than an individual ox.

It is, then, with good reason that of all that remains, when we
exclude primary substances, we concede to species and genera alone the
name 'secondary substance', for these alone of all the predicates
convey a knowledge of primary substance. For it is by stating the
species or the genus that we appropriately define any individual
man; and we shall make our definition more exact by stating the former
than by stating the latter. All other things that we state, such as
that he is white, that he runs, and so on, are irrelevant to the
definition. Thus it is just that these alone, apart from primary
substances, should be called substances.

Further, primary substances are most properly so called, because
they underlie and are the subjects of everything else. Now the same
relation that subsists between primary substance and everything else
subsists also between the species and the genus to which the primary
substance belongs, on the one hand, and every attribute which is not
included within these, on the other. For these are the subjects of all
such. If we call an individual man 'skilled in grammar', the predicate
is applicable also to the species and to the genus to which he
belongs. This law holds good in all cases.

It is a common characteristic of all sub. stance that it is never
present in a subject. For primary substance is neither present in a
subject nor predicated of a subject; while, with regard to secondary
substances, it is clear from the following arguments (apart from
others) that they are not present in a subject. For 'man' is
predicated of the individual man, but is not present in any subject:
for manhood is not present in the individual man. In the same way,
'animal' is also predicated of the individual man, but is not
present in him. Again, when a thing is present in a subject, though
the name may quite well be applied to that in which it is present, the
definition cannot be applied. Yet of secondary substances, not only
the name, but also the definition, applies to the subject: we should
use both the definition of the species and that of the genus with
reference to the individual man. Thus substance cannot be present in a
subject.

Yet this is not peculiar to substance, for it is also the case
that differentiae cannot be present in subjects. The characteristics
'terrestrial' and 'two-footed' are predicated of the species 'man',
but not present in it. For they are not in man. Moreover, the
definition of the differentia may be predicated of that of which the
differentia itself is predicated. For instance, if the
characteristic 'terrestrial' is predicated of the species 'man', the
definition also of that characteristic may be used to form the
predicate of the species 'man': for 'man' is terrestrial.

The fact that the parts of substances appear to be present in the
whole, as in a subject, should not make us apprehensive lest we should
have to admit that such parts are not substances: for in explaining
the phrase 'being present in a subject', we stated' that we meant
'otherwise than as parts in a whole'.

It is the mark of substances and of differentiae that, in all
propositions of which they form the predicate, they are predicated
univocally. For all such propositions have for their subject either
the individual or the species. It is true that, inasmuch as primary
substance is not predicable of anything, it can never form the
predicate of any proposition. But of secondary substances, the species
is predicated of the individual, the genus both of the species and
of the individual. Similarly the differentiae are predicated of the
species and of the individuals. Moreover, the definition of the
species and that of the genus are applicable to the primary substance,
and that of the genus to the species. For all that is predicated of
the predicate will be predicated also of the subject. Similarly, the
definition of the differentiae will be applicable to the species and
to the individuals. But it was stated above that the word 'univocal'
was applied to those things which had both name and definition in
common. It is, therefore, established that in every proposition, of
which either substance or a differentia forms the predicate, these are
predicated univocally.

All substance appears to signify that which is individual. In the
case of primary substance this is indisputably true, for the thing
is a unit. In the case of secondary substances, when we speak, for
instance, of 'man' or 'animal', our form of speech gives the
impression that we are here also indicating that which is
individual, but the impression is not strictly true; for a secondary
substance is not an individual, but a class with a certain
qualification; for it is not one and single as a primary substance is;
the words 'man', 'animal', are predicable of more than one subject.

Yet species and genus do not merely indicate quality, like the
term 'white'; 'white' indicates quality and nothing further, but
species and genus determine the quality with reference to a substance:
they signify substance qualitatively differentiated. The determinate
qualification covers a larger field in the case of the genus that in
that of the species: he who uses the word 'animal' is herein using a
word of wider extension than he who uses the word 'man'.

Another mark of substance is that it has no contrary. What could
be the contrary of any primary substance, such as the individual man
or animal? It has none. Nor can the species or the genus have a
contrary. Yet this characteristic is not peculiar to substance, but is
true of many other things, such as quantity. There is nothing that
forms the contrary of 'two cubits long' or of 'three cubits long',
or of 'ten', or of any such term. A man may contend that 'much' is the
contrary of 'little', or 'great' of 'small', but of definite
quantitative terms no contrary exists.

Substance, again, does not appear to admit of variation of degree. I
do not mean by this that one substance cannot be more or less truly
substance than another, for it has already been stated' that this is
the case; but that no single substance admits of varying degrees
within itself. For instance, one particular substance, 'man', cannot
be more or less man either than himself at some other time or than
some other man. One man cannot be more man than another, as that which
is white may be more or less white than some other white object, or as
that which is beautiful may be more or less beautiful than some
other beautiful object. The same quality, moreover, is said to subsist
in a thing in varying degrees at different times. A body, being white,
is said to be whiter at one time than it was before, or, being warm,
is said to be warmer or less warm than at some other time. But
substance is not said to be more or less that which it is: a man is
not more truly a man at one time than he was before, nor is
anything, if it is substance, more or less what it is. Substance,
then, does not admit of variation of degree.

The most distinctive mark of substance appears to be that, while
remaining numerically one and the same, it is capable of admitting
contrary qualities. From among things other than substance, we
should find ourselves unable to bring forward any which possessed this
mark. Thus, one and the same colour cannot be white and black. Nor can
the same one action be good and bad: this law holds good with
everything that is not substance. But one and the selfsame
substance, while retaining its identity, is yet capable of admitting
contrary qualities. The same individual person is at one time white,
at another black, at one time warm, at another cold, at one time good,
at another bad. This capacity is found nowhere else, though it might
be maintained that a statement or opinion was an exception to the
rule. The same statement, it is agreed, can be both true and false.
For if the statement 'he is sitting' is true, yet, when the person
in question has risen, the same statement will be false. The same
applies to opinions. For if any one thinks truly that a person is
sitting, yet, when that person has risen, this same opinion, if
still held, will be false. Yet although this exception may be allowed,
there is, nevertheless, a difference in the manner in which the
thing takes place. It is by themselves changing that substances
admit contrary qualities. It is thus that that which was hot becomes
cold, for it has entered into a different state. Similarly that
which was white becomes black, and that which was bad good, by a
process of change; and in the same way in all other cases it is by
changing that substances are capable of admitting contrary
qualities. But statements and opinions themselves remain unaltered
in all respects: it is by the alteration in the facts of the case that
the contrary quality comes to be theirs. The statement 'he is sitting'
remains unaltered, but it is at one time true, at another false,
according to circumstances. What has been said of statements applies
also to opinions. Thus, in respect of the manner in which the thing
takes place, it is the peculiar mark of substance that it should be
capable of admitting contrary qualities; for it is by itself
changing that it does so.