§ XI. BEE-KEEPING IN LONDON.
There are many persons, now in this noisy city pent, who frequently remember the days of childhood when, among pastures of clover or amidst flowery heath and woodlands, they listened to the cheerful hum of bees. Partly from a desire to revive these old associations, and also from a natural liking for the tendance of living creatures, such persons would be glad to keep bees if they thought it possible to do so in London or its suburbs with any chance of success. We do not wonder that many should doubt even the possibility of bees feeding themselves amidst such an "endless meal of brick;" but we can easily prove that bees, if not placed too near to smoky chimneys, are able to produce honey, both for themselves and for their masters. To make this plain we will mention some special instances of metropolitan bee-keeping.
About a century ago a Mr. Wildman kept a bee-house and honey warehouse in Holborn, near to where Middle Row lately stood. He was not only a tradesman, but was also the apiarian of his day. He kept hives of thriving bees on the roof of his house in Holborn, and many of the nobility and gentry used to mount thither in order to inspect the apiary. At that period St. Pancras was a "village two miles north-west of London," and what is now the Regent's Park was open country. It was then much easier for London bees to find their favourite forage, but Mr. Wildman believed that his hives were filled with stores from a considerable distance. Whilst enjoying his country rambles on Hampstead Heath, he had a shrewd suspicion that many of the bees he there observed gathering honey were labourers from his own apiary. In order to identify his own flock amongst the rest he hit upon a homely but very effective expedient. Having borrowed Mrs. Wildman's "dredging box," he stationed himself near the entrance of his hives, and gently dusted his bees with flour as they issued forth. He then betook himself to Hampstead, where he found his previous surmise confirmed, for there were numbers of his bees in their livery of white.
Wildman became noted for the remarkable control he obtained over his bees, many instances of which he exhibited before the public. Several of his operations with them were regarded as feats of legerdemain by the uninitiated, as when he appeared before King George III., with a swarm of bees hanging in festoons from his chin, or suspended in a cluster at arms' length. The Journal of Horticulture recently, in alluding to Wildman, gives the following particulars as to his performances:—
"Near the 'Three Hats,' Islington, was a place of popular entertainment called 'Dobney's Tea Gardens,' kept by Mrs. Ann Dobney. These gardens occupied the ground between White Lion Street and Winchester Place, and were established as far back as 1728. In 1771 the house was taken for a short time as a boarding school; but it was soon changed to its original purpose as a place of amusement, for in 1772 Daniel Wildman exhibited bees here. This is a copy of the advertisement:—
"'June 20, 1772. Exhibition of bees on horseback! at the Jubilee Gardens, Islington (late Dobney's), this and every evening, until further notice (wet evenings excepted).
"'The celebrated Daniel Wildman will exhibit several new and amazing experiments, never attempted by any man in this or any other kingdom before. The rider standing upright, one foot on the saddle and one on the neck, with a mask of bees on his head and face. He also rides standing upright on the saddle with the bridle in his mouth, and, by firing a pistol, makes one part of the bees march over the table, and the other swarm in the air and return to their hive again, with other performances too tedious to insert. The doors open at six; to begin at a quarter before seven. Admittance—Box and gallery, 2s.; the other seats. 1s.'"
The secret of Wildman's skilful manipulation is well understood now; it consisted in a careful holding and disposal of the queen, together with confidence in the generally inoffensive disposition of bees. Dr. Evans, whom we have often quoted for his correct information in apiarian matters, thus speaks of his feats:—
"Such was the spell which round a Wildman's arm
Twined in dark wreaths the fascinated swarm,
Bright o'er his breast the glittering legions led,
Or with a living garland bound his head.
His dextrous hand, with firm, yet hurtless hold,
Could seize the chief, known by her scales of gold,
Amidst the wondering train prune her thin wing.
Or o'er her folds the silken fetter fling."
To recur to our subject. After the days of Wildman our own establishment in Holborn became widely known for beehives and honey. Although we never attempted to start a London apiary at all approaching in extent that of our predecessor, we have occasionally kept bees on the house-top, both in Holborn and Regent Street. At each of those situations we have noticed that the bees bring pollen as well as honey into their hives. One summer there was brought under our notice an illustration of the acuteness of the scent of bees and of their diligent search for food, proving, too, that if sweets can be obtained, even from unusual sources, the bees will find them out. A poor woman, who, at the corner of an adjacent street, vends "brandy balls," "toffee," "rock," and other saccharine compounds—all well known to most juveniles—used to receive frequent visits from our bees. Their visits to the old dame's domain were at first rather interesting, and if the few pioneers who had the sagacity to find such a store had kept the secret only to themselves, their company would not have been objected to. Such selfish policy does not, however, accord with the social instinct of bees, and these soon informed their companions of the good fortune provided for them in an archipelago of sugar islands. Day by day the swarms of these uninvited visitors increased, until all legitimate customers were beaten off; and the old dame had to see, not only her hope of gain destroyed, but her stock of "goodies" sensibly diminishing by the thefts of these brigands of the air. She could not, or dared not attempt to, drive the intruders away, so made diligent enquiry as to where the robbers were harboured. Having traced them to our establishment in Regent Street, she came to implore of us to move the bees if possible, or she would have to move her stall, and so lose her "connection" in the "toffee" and "rock" trade. Wishing not to hinder the poor woman in gaining her livelihood, we decided on removing our bees into the country.
Another special instance of bees being profitably kept in proximity to the busy thoroughfares of London is now before us. Two years ago we supplied a stock of English bees to a gentleman residing in the Strand, the back windows of whose house open on the Thames Embankment and the river. Thus the bees have a fine open flight, as their hive is placed against the sash on a third floor (an opening is cut to match the entrance, so that the bees have a covered way to their hive); from this they are seen taking their flight across the river Thames, to what may be thought the unattractive locality of Lambeth. However, they seem to reach some "green fields and pastures new," probably in the gardens of the archbishop's palace, for they return laden with pollen from flowers, and during the two summers that the hive has been so located, have yielded nice glasses of honeycomb as well as afforded a considerable amount of pleasure to the owner and his friends, with every prospect of going on flourishing.
It is difficult to assign an exact limit to the distance that bees will go in search of honey-yielding blossoms. It has been proved by various experiments that they will fly, say, five or six miles, if the supplies are scanty within a shorter radius; but bees well understand that first of all economies, the saving of time, and if they can find forage near at hand they prefer it. Hence, other things being equal, the quantity of honey stored will be in proportion to the contiguity of good pasturage. In this way it is that the systematic removal of hives, as practised in many districts, has such a notable effect on the honey harvest.
A novel sight for Londoners to witness occurred in June 1865. A swarm, having been ordered to be sent into the country the following morning, was temporarily placed on the leads at the back of our house, 149, Regent Street. The sun shining hot on the hive, or some other cause, induced the inmates to decamp. After a time a passer-by called in to inform us that some bees had arrested the progress of a cab. We at once conjectured that they were our missing swarm, the absence of which had previously puzzled us not a little; so we sent our man with a straw hive to bring the truants back, which he succeeded in doing, followed to the door by a crowd, who were amazed at the sight of the "'oney-bees," as the Cockney lads called them. Cabby had to be compensated for the loss of his fare, for the affrighted passengers had left him in a hurry, so that, altogether, no little commotion was caused—a crowd so soon collects in London streets.
During several years we kept bees in the Zoological Gardens, Regent's Park, and have there frequently taken full and handsome glasses of honey. The position of our apiary was on the site now occupied by the new monkey house. The visitors to the gardens found considerable interest in watching the bees in our glass hives, and were afterwards much disappointed at the absence of so entertaining an exhibition. The writer had the honour of showing and explaining the working of these hives to some of the juvenile members of our Royal Family who had come to the gardens on one of their accustomed early morning visits with their French governess. Their conversation was in French; and on entering the bee-room, "Regardez les abeilles! Voyez done la reine!" was soon on their lips. The young princesses took special care that their brother Arthur, as they affectionately called him (now known by the title of H.R.H. the Duke of Connaught), should observe the attention paid by the working bees to their queen, as well as to other points of interest connected with the busy scene before them, with which they all expressed themselves much delighted. A collection of these hives were also exhibited by the Acclimatisation Society of Great Britain, with living bees in them, at the Fish Department of the Royal Horticultural Gardens, South Kensington, and prospered satisfactorily until removed, the space being required for other objects.
A gentleman residing in St. James's Place has, for some considerable time past, kept bees in his garden there. He uses our improved cottage hives, and his bee-keeping is decidedly successful, as he generally takes some fine glasses of honey each season, besides leaving sufficient as winter store for the bees. For a London situation, St. James's Place is a very favourable one; the gardens behind the houses pleasantly face the Green Park, so that the bees have an uninterrupted flight to start with. They are also within easy range of the richly flowered gardens of Buckingham Palace and those of the nobility and gentry who reside around the Parks. To those gardens the bees of St. James's Place resort, without waiting for any licence or certificate from the royal and noble owners of the honey-yielding preserves. Being within a short distance of our establishment, when this gentleman's bees swarm he generally sends to us for assistance in hiving them.
The neighbourhood of St. John's Wood, and, indeed, almost all the suburbs of London, are favourable for the production of honey. We mention St. John's Wood because, from the fact of having kept bees there ourselves, we are able to prove by experience that they do well in that locality. We know of several bee-keepers on nearly all sides of the town who have each had a considerable surplus of honey in their supers, after leaving sufficient for the bees themselves in the lower or stock hives. Whilst referring to this part of the environs of the metropolis we take the opportunity of explaining that our own apiary (a coloured view of which forms the frontispiece of this work) is situated near Hampstead. The spot is not so easy of access as might be desired, being somewhat remote from the road, in a portion of a meadow between West End and Kilburn.
On looking at the picture, it will be seen that there are a large numbed of hives on separate stands, mostly bar-frame hives, at some little distance from each other, in order to prevent confusion when manipulating. At the back, near the hedge we have some hives on rails, which like the others are well protected from the weather, every one having its own covering. Besides these there are three bee-houses, which are so suitable for preserving from the weather hives with fixed combs, and where there is less need for manipulation, such as our straw cottage hives. One house will contain six hives, another three, and a third two. These houses are explained at [page 166].
At the back, about the centre of the drawing, is the operating house, also forming a storehouse or magazine where apiarian appendages are kept, together with feeding syrup and combs, etc., so essential for use, and which yet must be secured from the thievish propensities of the bees, and access to which, if possible to gain, demoralises them so much that they make war and attempt to pillage each other's hives, as elsewhere referred to.
The shallow pans in front (earthen milk pans) have water in them, and are so placed that the bees may have access to moisture, which is so essential for them in spring for comb-building and breeding. Straight straws are floated on the water so as to admit of the bees imbibing without the liability of their being drowned.
On this ground we largely cultivate Italian bees, and unite imported queens to colonies of English bees, to be ready to supply swarms and stocks therefrom as pure and genuine as possible.
The district is not so good for bees as if it were farther in the country and more removed from London smoke; nevertheless we have had fine supers worked here, and find it a great convenience to have a bee-farm at so moderate a distance from' town to carry on this department of our trade.
Some time ago we exhibited in our window a super of fine honey from the apiary of Mr. Shirley Hibberd, the proprietor and editor of the Gardener's Weekly Magazine. It consisted of a box containing twenty pounds nett weight of honey, and was produced at Stoke Newington, only three and a quarter miles from the General Post Office.
The Times "Bee-Master," whose letters from Tunbridge Wells awakened so much interest in this pleasing pursuit, also commissioned us to exhibit a super produced under his own management in that locality. Mr. S. B. Fox, at Exeter, had upwards of four hundred pounds of honey, of excellent quality, though one of his apiaries is quite within the city.