Ever Smaller

by Albert Bleunard

  “You explanation,” said the doctor, “seems to me to be the true one. It might also be the case that the eyes of insects, like photographic plates, are impressed by chemical rays that have no effect on the human retina.”

  “Yes,” the optician replied, “and it’s necessary to conclude that our science is far from having said its last word on the study of the sensory organs of animals. The future will reveal many marvelous discoveries along that fecund route.”

  After this conversation, they resumed their forward march. The tunnel was still descending into the earth, making abrupt detours.

  “Are we going to go far like this?” asked Camaret.

  “It’s possible,” the optician replied. “Ant-hills are sometimes considerable in size. There was one 100 meters long, which even went under streams.”

  “By that count,” said the dentist, “we’re a long way from the end. A hundred meters represents 100,000 meters for us, which is 100 kilometers. In that case, I want to take a railway train.”

  Suddenly, they arrived at the entrance to an immense hall. It was like a subterranean temple, full of shadow and mystery. They could hear a confused noise, reminiscent of the vague murmur of a crowd. There was, indeed, a crowd amassed in the subterranean arena. It was full of ants, arranged in perfect order and in serried battalions. The arrival of the voyagers must already have been advertised, for a strong detachment of ants came ceremoniously to meet them and form an escort for them.

  What a strange thing! It was definitely the first time that human beings had been guests of ants in this way—animals so different from human nature in the conformation of their bodies, but so similar in their intelligence and civilization. There could be no more doubt about it: the three friends were in the presence of intelligent and civilized beings. All they lacked was a common language with which to understand one another.

  Having arrived in the middle of the cavern, they perceived a large winged ant, around which all the other ants seemed to be bowing down.

  “Bow,” said the doctor. “This is the queen.”

  The three men raised their hats.

  Above all, the reader should not laugh at this story. The voyagers who cross central Africa are certainly no more ridiculous, when they prostrate themselves before a negro king, than the three voyagers were when they paid homage to the queen ant. That queen was as majestic as those horrible black semi-naked maggots, dressed in a ragged shirt and the residue of a European uniform, coiffed with a fireman’s helmet, reeking of eau-de-vie and tobacco. The majesty of sovereigns ought not to be measured by the splendor of their costumes. At any rate, the queen ant had none, and did not reek of either eau-de-vie or tobacco, which rendered her much superior to her peers in central Africa. Moreover, only her wings distinguished her from her subjects, which were all workers and hence deprived of that insignia of royalty among the ants.

  The three friends that they understood, by one of the queen’s gestures, that she was inviting them to sit down—or, rather, to extend themselves on the ground, for there was a complete lack of chairs here. They wondered, not without a certain anxiety, what the purpose was of this extraordinary assembly of ants. Were they about to pass judgment on them, and decide what sauce to eat them with? That was Camaret’s particular fear.

  After a few minutes, the matter was finally settled. The queen was simply holding a grand council. They saw a few ants, probably the most important individuals—ministers, functionaries and academicians—approach the queen in succession and touch her antennae in a lively manner, which was equivalent to the long speeches pronounced by humans in similar circumstances.

  “What can they be saying?” asked the dentist. “I’ll wager that they’re presently discussing the best way to get hold of our friend Al-Harik’s jam, in order to eat it. We’ll have to warn him when we get back.”

  “Many conferences of human governments,” Paradou replied, “have motives no more serious. Isn’t eating, among humans as well as among ants, the constant goal of existence? Wars have almost always been necessitated by the need to live better. During a journey to Naples, I was struck by the response of a peasant when I asked him how he Italian people had accepted a succession of foreign rulers. He replied, in the most naïve fashion: ‘What do you expect, Monsieur? Our country is so beautiful that all foreigners come to live here in their turn.’ Doesn’t that show that all the wars in Italy have been fought in order to eat jam there?”

  The council had come to an end during his conversation. On a sign from the queen, everyone dispersed in an orderly manner, and the ants had soon disappeared into the tunnels that ended in the great cavern. They moved off again, still accompanied by the same escort.

  They went into a broad tunnel, encumbered with enormous rounded bodies deposited symmetrically along the walls.

  “Now we’re in the wine-cellar,” said Camaret.

  “No,” said the optician, “you’re mistaken. Those aren’t casks, but simply eggs.”

  Several of the eggs were already empty. A few ants, in a great hurry, were taking up positions beside other eggs and effecting singular movements. After having broken them, they withdrew stout worms.

  “Look,” said the doctor to his companions. “They’re bringing little ants into the world.”

  “But a worm isn’t an ant!” Camaret exclaimed.

  “Ants,” Paradou replied, “are initially born in the form of worms, which, after six or seven weeks, transform themselves into pupae. Three or four weeks after that, the pupae become perfect ants.”

  “Like silkworms, then,” observed the dentist.

  “Absolutely,” said the doctor.

  They followed the ants that were carrying the worms into a special tunnel where they were arranged in order of size. This whole part of the ant-hill was devoted to the rearing of children. They went through a large number of further tunnels, arranged on top of one another. The most curious were those in which the pupae were to be found. In that state, the future ant, wrapped in a silken cocoon, resembles a large egg. All day long, the ant nurses are occupied in transporting the pupae from the inferior tunnels to the superior ones, or vice versa, in order to place them in the conditions of temperature most favorable to their rapid development. Finally, when the perfect insect, still very weak, begins to break through its envelope, it is necessary to see with what solicitude the nurse aids it to get rid of its swaddling-clothes. The majority of the young would perish without this assistance—but that’s still not all. The little ant cannot eat by itself; the workers bring it delicate nourishment specially prepared for it.

  “One thing that strikes me in all this,” observed Soleihas while the three friends were examining all these details, “is the difficulty with which an ant is reared. It must require as much care as it does to bring up a human.”

  “An effect of civilization, my dear chap,” the doctor replied. “The more civilized an animal is, the longer it takes and the more difficult it is to rear it. Intelligence, in becoming increasingly dominant over matter, ends up gradually modifying the conditions of its existence; that leads to the care lavished on raising the young, and also a considerable mortality among the young.”

  They finally came out into a vast chamber, and there beheld the most curious spectacle: some 50 ants, of large size, young and old alike, delivering themselves to the most varied exercises. Some of them could be seen dancing, their bodies swaying rhythmically, and not without a certain grace. The young ones were guided by the older ones, who were evidently serving as dance-teachers. Those in another group were engaged in fighting exercises. At the far end of the hall, the ants had installed a kind of gymnasium; they were practicing jumping over obstacles and climbing on to pieces of wood.

  So strange a spectacle certainly merited being captured by photography. It was decided that Camaret would take a picture by means of artificial magnesium light. Soleihas therefore set light to a long strip of that metal as soon as the dentist had finished his preparations.

&n
bsp; The ants, momentarily stupefied by the abrupt appearance of the dazzling light, remained motionless, bewildered; then they fled in all directions. Only the guides, faithful to their duty, remained at the door.

  On leaving the games room, they went into a tunnel that served as stables. A large number of animals were arranged side by side, and ants were moving back and forth, binging them abundant nourishment as well as straw. Instead of being cows, however, these animals were little blind beetles that the ants rear with great care, because of a liquid they secrete of which the ants are very fond.

  Soleihas and Paradou were carefully examining the manner in which the ants treated these creatures when they suddenly heard the dentist utter a frightful oath.

  The dentist was agitating like a man possessed, striking himself on the forehead with his fist and making a show of trying to tear out the few hairs he had left.

  “What’s the matter? What’s wrong with you?” demanded his two companions, at the same time.

  “Imbecile that I am! Triple idiot!” cried Camaret, becoming even more furiously agitated.

  “What is it?” Soleihas and Paradou demanded, again, beginning to get impatient with him.

  “Well,” the dentist finally said, “it’s that I forgot to close the door just now.”

  “What door?” asked the doctor, who was starting to wonder whether Camaret had suddenly gone mad.

  “The door of my slide-holder, when I took the photograph of the ants.

  This time, the doctor and the optician burst out laughing.

  “Another photograph spoiled, my poor friend,” said Soleihas. “If this goes on, you won’t bring back a single one from your voyage.”

  “Yes, I know that,” replied the crestfallen dentist, with a mournful expression. “What do you expect? It’s Al-Harik who’s put an evil spell on me.”

  At that moment, the three friends turned round.

  “Did you hear that?” asked Soleihas.

  “Yes, perfectly,” replied the doctor. “It was like muffled laughter, which seemed to come from that tunnel.”

  “I heard it quite clearly too,” said Camaret.

  They listened momentarily, but the strange sound was not renewed.

  “We were mistaken,” said the optician. “It was some sound coming from inside the ant-hill which we mistook for a burst of laughter.”

  “Or simply a distant echo,” added the doctor, “which returned out own bursts of laughter to us after a long delay. Let’s go—it’s time to get out of here.”

  They continued moving forward.

  “Well,” said the doctor, “we’re in a hospital now.”

  Indeed, the new tunnel they were going through was full of sick or injured ants. The majority had lost a foot, or more than one.

  “They’re probably old warriors worthy of Les Invalides,” said the optician. “Ants are very warlike, and the wounded are religiously collected after a battle, in order to be cared for.”

  “I’ll bring them their medals when we come back,” said Camaret.

  One extraordinary thing was that almost all the crippled ants did not resemble the other ants they had previously seen. They were much larger, and the color of their bodies was redder. Camaret asked the optician what the reason for the difference was.

  “That’s a very curious item in the natural history of ants,” Soleihas replied, “with which I’ll acquaint you in a few moments, as soon as we’ve got out of the ant-hill.”

  On leaving the hospital, they went into other tunnels, all populated by the same large red ants. They seemed to be plunged in a kind of somnolence, even torpor. Lying on the ground in all sorts of positions, the scarcely moved. Little black ants circulated among the large ones, feeding them and cleaning them with particular care. The larger ones allowed them o do so, indolently.

  “Bunch of idlers!” cried Camaret. “There are folk living the good life. Isn’t it shameful that large beasts like them should let themselves be pampered thus by the small ones?”

  Suddenly, as they rounded a bend in the tunnel, they perceived daylight. A few paces further on, they reached the entrance to the ant-hill. The three explorers blew out their candles and finally emerged from the subterranean working that had revealed so many marvels to them. The guides accompanied them or a few moments more, then, lowering their antennae in the manner of a salute, they turned round and went back to their dwelling.

  “We can’t leave like this,” said Camaret. “We ought to give our amiable guides a tip.”

  The dentist ran after the ants and, taking a large copper coin out of his purse, he presented it to the one who appeared to be the leader. The ant clicked its mandibles in so ferocious a manner that poor Camaret, frightened, ran away at top speed.

  “That’s a fine way to thank me!” he exclaimed, as soon as he had rejoined his companions. “Perhaps, after all, it was annoyed by the smallness of the sum I gave it.”

  “No,” said the doctor, laughing. “I think it more likely that its formic self-respect was humiliated. It didn’t want to accept anything.”

  “In that case,” said the dentist, “ants are better than our waiters and coachmen, who never find tips sufficient.”

  Here, then, are the three friends returned to the plain and heading toward the edge of the forest once again, in order to get back to their point of departure. The terrain was more slippery than it had been before they went into the ant-hill, and there were large pools of water in the cavities of the ground.

  “It’s rained while we were visiting the interior of the ant-hill,” Paradou observed.

  “By the way, Monsieur Soleihas,” said Camaret, while they were walking rapidly, “you promised to tell me something interesting about the natural history of ants.”

  “That’s true,” the optician replied. “Listen, then.”

  And Soleihas began a long dissertation on the mores of ants. He explained to his comrade that there are several kinds of ants. The smallest ones are responsible for the labor of the colony, digging tunnels, the raising of children, searching or nourishment outside, while the ones with the large heads, known as megacephali, are specially responsible for fighting. The megacephali lead the workers to war, presenting their heads to the enemy and serving as a shield for the rest of the army.

  He also explained that the red ants do not belong to the same species as the black ones. The black ones are the slaves of the red. By means of war, the red ants capture black ants when they have only just been born and take them to their own ant-hill. Raised by other black ants, already prisoners for a long time, they end up becoming slaves in their turn, totally devoted to their masters. The large red ants, having become lazy by virtue of being pampered, can no longer do anything by themselves, and leave the government entirely in the hands of the small black ants. Their slothfulness is such that, without the assistance of their slaves, they would let themselves die of hunger. In times of war, however, these sleepwalkers become terrible. Guided by the small black ants, they invade other anthills and take new prisoners.

  “Well, there’s a fine moral on the part of ants!” Camaret exclaimed. “It’s shameful! Masers so idle that they can’t feed themselves; slaves that become masters! And to cap it all, compatriots who lead their masters to their ancient fatherland to take more slaves! It’s morality in reverse. No, I’d definitely rather be a man than an ant. When we come back, I’ll bring these ants the French code to teach them human rights. I’ll bring a gospel so that they’ll know what fraternity is!”

  Camaret was genuinely angry. He was brandishing his photographic tripod in one hand and raisin his other toward heaven, as if to take it as a witness to his desire to moralize the ants. Suddenly, he fell flat on the ground in the midst of an immense spray of water.

  “Help! Help!” he shouted. “I’m drowning!”

  Meanwhile, the dentist had briskly sprung to his feet, wet from top to toe. At the same moment, another spray of water, similar to the first, fell noisily a few meters away from the voy
agers and then a third.

  “It’s raining!” Paradou exclaimed. “It was a raindrop that nearly drowned poor Camaret.”

  The latter was now cursing the heavens, to which he displayed his fist. “If it’s the Deluge beginning again,” he cried, “spare the innocent and punish the guilty. Heaven, do you take me for an ant?”

  A loud burst of laughter was heard in mid-air. The three friends looked at one another in amazement.

  “Did you hear that?” asked the doctor. “It’s the same laughter we heard a little while ago in the ant-hill.”

  “Yes,” replied Soleihas. “How do you explain that strange laughter?”

  “Permit me to tell you,” the dentist interjected, “that it might simply have been a distant clap of thunder. These large drops of water…”

  “You’re right,” the doctor concluded. “There must also be thunder.”

  Fortunately, they had arrived at the edge of the forest. There, they were sheltered from the rain under the large clover-leaves. An interesting spectacle relieved the monotony of the walk through the woods. A herd of animals, similar to little kangaroos, were leaping swiftly from one tree to another, or even on to the ground, assisting themselves with their long tails, which served as springs. Their back was ornamented with a mane and they had two curled-back antennae on their head.

  “They’re springtails,” said Soleihas. “They’re tiny insects that travel through grass in groups. Look, they’re recognizable by the form…”

  The optician did not have time to finish his sentence. He was suddenly knocked over and disappeared under an avalanche of small stones.

  What was the cause of this new accident, which might have the deadliest consequences?

  We have already said that the grains of sand making up a part of the forest floor had very little cohesion. The voyagers were skirting a sort of cliff, a few meters high, formed by these loose stones, when one of the insects, bounding on to the crest of the cliff, produced a small landslide, which reached as far as the savant optician. Paradou and Camaret launched themselves to the rescue of their companion. They rapidly liberated him and lifted him up, badly bruised but without any serious wounds. It was an opportunity to utilize the doctor’s medicaments. The later put a layer of collodion on one scratch on the cheek that was bleeding and made the optician drink a cordial, which quickly put him back on his feet. But the voyagers’ troubles were not over.