Honey Lakes of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth

Honey Lakes of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth

I have previously written about how our lands were once one of the centres of a remarkable mead-making tradition, where refined meads were produced that could rival some of the finest European wines in quality.

This time I came across an unusual seventeenth-century treatise on finance and taxation written by Caspar Klock (1583–1655), a court jurist and former burgrave of Brunswick. The full title of his work reads:

“Tractatus juridico-politico-polemico-historicus de Ærario, sive Censu, per honesta media, absque divexatione Populi, licite conficiendo. Libri duo.”

The version of the treatise used in this article was published after the author’s death, in an expanded and revised edition prepared under the editorship of Christophorus Peller in Nuremberg in 1671.

Honey and forest beekeeping in our lands

At first glance, Tractatus de ærario deals with a rather serious subject: the search for fair and reasonable ways of replenishing the state treasury. Yet among the dry discussions of taxes and laws, Klock includes vivid and sometimes astonishing examples from different countries.

One such passage concerns Poland and Lithuania — lands of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth where forest beekeeping, the production of honey and wax, and the preparation of honey-based drinks formed a notable part of the economy.

Klock was far from the only author of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries to remark upon the enormous quantities of honey found in these lands.

In 1595, the famous cartographer Gerard Mercator, in his Atlas sive Cosmographicae meditationes, described Lithuania as an exceptionally forested country and specifically noted the large quantities of wax and honey produced by wild bees in its forests.

Several decades later, the Archontologia cosmica of 1628 again described Lithuania as a land abundant in wax and honey. Particularly interesting is the fact that the author makes it quite clear what territory he understood by Lithuania: among its voivodeships he lists Vilnius, Trakai, Minsk, Nowogródek, Brest and others. In other words, the description directly encompasses a substantial part of present-day Belarus.

There is also local documentary evidence. The survey book of the principalities of Pinsk and Kletsk, compiled in 1552–1555, records economic lands and resources associated with beekeeping directly within the territory of present-day Belarus.

Thus, the accounts of European authors describing Lithuania as exceptionally rich in honey existed against the very real background of a well-developed tradition of forest beekeeping in our lands.

What Caspar Klock wrote

On page 469 of his treatise, Klock begins one passage explicitly with the words “In Polonia & Lituania” — “In Poland and Lithuania”.

He describes widespread beekeeping in the forests, the production of honey and wax, and their economic importance. According to Klock, honey was so abundant that it could be found in hollow trees even after the bees had abandoned them. The Polish king also received considerable revenue from this industry.

Klock also mentions honey-based drinks. Honey was mixed with water and hops, while such drinks could additionally be flavoured with juices and aromatic ingredients. We are therefore dealing not only with evidence for honey production, but also with evidence for an established culture of processing honey into beverages.

[

But the passage becomes particularly intriguing from this point onward.

When there was so much honey that bears drowned in it

Almost fabulous stories about enormous accumulations of honey had circulated long before Klock.

In 1653, the naturalist Jan Jonston wrote something remarkable in his Historiae naturalis de insectis: in Podolia and Lithuania, cavities in dry ground were said to become filled with honey, and enormous bears that fell into them could perish.

Jonston, in turn, referred to an earlier sixteenth-century author, Olaus Magnus.

Of course, such stories should not be treated as precise descriptions of a natural phenomenon in the modern scientific sense. What matters here is something else: by the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, there already existed a persistent image of these lands as a region containing such extraordinary quantities of wild honey that writers even told stories of honey-filled pits and bears dying in them.

Against this background, Klock’s account no longer appears to be an isolated fantastic tale, but part of a much broader tradition describing the extraordinary abundance of honey in Eastern Europe.

After discussing Poland and Lithuania, Klock broadens the geographical scope of his account and turns to Ruthenia and Muscovy. He writes of immense forests and hollow trees in which such large accumulations of wild honey could supposedly be found that people and animals falling into them became trapped like flies.

The meaning of the passage can be rendered as follows:

…These lands are so abundant in honey that in immense forests and hollow trees such enormous accumulations of it are sometimes found that people and wild animals, carelessly falling into these honey lakes, become immersed in them like flies in honey and risk perishing…

We cannot claim that the particular episode Klock relates next took place on the territory of present-day Belarus. Yet the environment in which such a story seemed plausible to sixteenth- and seventeenth-century authors was certainly familiar in our lands as well: immense forests, tree hives, wild bees, abundant honey and bears.

Moreover, Jan Jonston explicitly associated similar honey-filled traps with Lithuania.

The peasant, the honey and the frightened she-bear

The source of the next remarkable story cited by Klock was the Italian physician, historian and humanist Paolo Giovio (1483–1552).

Paolo Giovio reports that a certain Dmitry, an ambassador in Rome, liked to tell a story that caused great amusement among his listeners.

A peasant went into the forest in search of honey and climbed into an enormous hollow tree. There he fell into a deep accumulation of honey and found himself submerged almost up to his chest.

He could no longer escape on his own.

For two days, the peasant survived solely on honey. No one heard his cries for help, and gradually he began to lose hope of being rescued.

Then something extraordinary happened.

A huge she-bear, attracted by the smell of honey, climbed to the same tree. When she reached the hollow and pushed a paw inside, the peasant seized it tightly with both hands.

The bear, completely unprepared for such an encounter, became frightened and tried to pull away. Jerking backwards and scrambling out, she accidentally dragged the trapped man out of the honey with her.

Thus, the enormous animal that had come in search of honey unexpectedly became the man’s rescuer.

Honey lakes — a legend with a very real background

Naturally, stories about people and bears literally drowning in “honey lakes” cannot be regarded as literal proof that actual lakes of honey existed.

Yet these stories were not entirely detached from historical reality either.

Gerard Mercator wrote of the enormous quantities of honey produced by forest bees in Lithuania. The Archontologia cosmica again described Lithuania — including the voivodeships of Minsk, Nowogródek and Brest — as a land rich in honey and wax. The survey book of the principalities of Pinsk and Kletsk demonstrates the existence of a corresponding beekeeping economy directly within the territory of present-day Belarus. And as early as 1653, Jan Jonston explicitly wrote of honey-filled cavities in Lithuania and bears falling into them.

Caspar Klock, meanwhile, brought similar accounts together in his treatise on the state treasury alongside entirely practical information about honey, wax, trade and honey-based drinks in Poland and Lithuania.

The old image of “honey lakes” can therefore be understood as a vivid and greatly exaggerated reflection of the genuine abundance of honey in our region and its long tradition of forest beekeeping.

These remarkable stories remind us of the richness and uniqueness of our history and culture. The honey and brewing traditions of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, preserved in documents, old books and historical accounts, deserve to be remembered, studied and revived today.

Perhaps over a cup of traditional mead, these old stories may come to life once again, inspiring new generations of researchers and enthusiasts of Belarusian drinks.