Why the ancient art of beekeeping explains the modern British monarchy
Let us consider the problems brought on by the errant behaviour of the bullshit artist previously known as Prince (Andrew).
God save the King. In these times of self-righteous republican rumblings today’s column should be of special interest to my fellow monarchists. It begins with a nursery rhyme...
The King was in his counting room
Counting out his money
The Queen was in her parlour
Eating bread and honey
The maid was in the garden
Hanging out the clothes
When down came a blackbird
And pecked off her nose
Consider the problems brought on by the errant behaviour of the bullshit artist previously known as Prince (Andrew) and the need for King Charles to provide his perverse brother with food and lodgings. The royal budget is under considerable strain already, and this may force the Firm to flog some of the crown jewels on eBay.
Consider, too, the plight of the maid in the nursery rhyme – who, despite the help of the NHS, faces an uncertain future. Nose jobs are expensive and there are few employment opportunities for noseless maids.
(The rhyme also addresses the risk of dive-bombing blackbirds, though here in Australia the feathered miscreant is more likely to be a magpie, particularly during nesting season.)
But in today’s epistle my concern is more for the Queen and her bread and honey. A snack that you and I, as loyalist royalists, also enjoy. Let us leave to one side her choice of loaf – plain, wholemeal or sourdough – for another column, and focus on the spread. Honey.
Like King Charles, we here at Elmswood are committed to organic farming. His Duchy Home Farm eschews all artificial chemicals and fertiliser. I’m not sure if HM grows garlic or tends bees like my own Queen, but it seems highly likely that he is a beekeper. My Patrice produces heavenly honey and sells it online to happy customers.
In the well behaved beehive there are clear echoes of a royal palace. There is one Queen, and lots of worker bees (plus some drones) – the counterparts to us lowly subjects. And the care of bees, or apiculture, is as ancient as the institution of the monarchy. Indeed, the first evidence of ancient honey-gathering is found in cave paintings in Spain dating back to 6000BC.
If the buzz is correct and our King (send him victorious, happy and glorious) is indeed a beekeeper, providing the honey for Camilla’s snacks, then it’s only fitting. The kings of Ancient Egypt kept bees for their honey, too. Perhaps the royal houses are related.
Fun fact. Across the Channel in France, another royal, the Emperor Napoleon, chose the bee as his totem – seeing this insect as symbolising hard work, diligence, vigilance and orderliness. (I’m not sure whether Josephine liked bread and honey. Being French, it would probably have been croissants.)
Bees are also big in Christianity – St Ambrose, for example, likened the church to a beehive. But back to royals…
“Colony Collapse Disorder” affects beehives around the world. So many kingships, too, have been destroyed by rabid republicans. No need to decapitate a Charles I. Heads roll because of royal misdemeanours.
Epstein files anyone?
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