German masons called from Gotland built the castle in 1884, and the first church in the Baltics on a hilltop next to it. The fortress soon lost its importance when, in 1201, Meinhard’s successor, Bishop Albert, founded Riga on a better situated site nearby, and moved his seat there. Today, only a memorial stone stands on its site. The church, however, which was later rebuilt in the Gothic style, stood intact until September 1, 1917, when the Russian army defending Riga trenched in around it, and the German attackers shot the church into ruins. It was never rebuilt again.
The Riga Dam, built in 1974, raised the level of the Daugava River so much that the hilltop became an island. The preserved ruins of the church still stand on it today, next to a memorial stone erected in 1864 by the Baron of Üxküll – because this was the German name for the village –, Boris (1793-1870), a heroic Russian officer in the Napoleonic Wars and the abductor of many women’s hearts, who summarized his exploits in his diary published under the title Arms and the Woman.
The German name may be familiar to some. The Barons of Üxküll included the biologist and philosopher Jakob von Uexküll (1864-1944), the founder of ethology, whom Konrad Lorenz often refers to. He was born in Tallinn, where his father was mayor, and moved permanently to Germany in 1924.
As we head inland from Riga, we definitely stop at this source of Baltic history. It is summer, the reservoir has dried up, and at this time a small path rises from the water, where you can walk across from the shore to the island. On both sides of it there are the stumps of old trees that have been cut down. The trees may have originally lined the path leading to the church, and they may have been cut down when the reservoir was filled.
Along the slightly curved path, the water of the river has remained in small ponds, covered by water lilies. Where the ponds have also dried up, dry blocks of river mussels cover the ground. Sometimes the pits are still wet, and a strong smell of decay emanates from them. Waterfowl flock everywhere to the shallow water of the reservoir in search of food. On the shore, one or two old fishermen are collecting easy prey.
The ruins of the church, built of irregular limestone, are covered with a tin roof. The double Gothic gate seems to have survived, as well as the pointed arch leading from the forecourt into the nave, with Gothic consoles and vault ribs behind it. The rest is gone. The remains are stabilized by red brick additions.
A path, haphazardly trodden through the knee-high vegetation, leads to the memorial stone, on both side of which is a worn Latin inscription. The side facing the shore – the arriving visitors – is barely legible:
| IN MEMORIAM MEINARDI EPISCOPI LIVONUM APOSTOLI HUJUS ECCLESIAE FUNDATORIS ATQUE CONRADI MEINDORPI MILITIS YKESKOLA FORTISSIMI FIDEI PROPUGNATORI | In memory of Bishop Meinhard, Apostle of the Livonians, founder of this church and of Conrad Meindorp, Knight of Ykeskola, the brave defender of faith |
Konrad Meindorp (later spelled Meyerdorff), as the term propugnator, “protector with a shield” shows, belonged to the generation that Bishop Albert called as crusaders from the late 1190s to Livonia, the new province that included the later Latvia and Estonia, to protect the already converted Baltic people from the unconverted, and the latter from their own pagan faith. In 1201, Konrad Meindorp received the fortress of Ikšķilā – in Latin Ykeskola, in German Üxküll, in later Latvian Ikšķile –, and thus became the ancestor of the von Uexkülls.
On the other side, the offspring says thanks:
| HOC MONUMENTUM DEDICAVIT BORIS DE ÜXKÜLL LIBER BARO EQUESTRI IN ESTONIA ORDINI ADSCRIPTUS VIGGALIA IN MARITIMA HERES 1186 1201 1864 | This monument was dedicated by Baron Boris von Uexküll, member of the order of knights in Estonia, heir of Vigāles at the sea 1186 1201 1864 |
The inscription is still clearly legible in the photograph taken before 1917. The church still stands behind it. The members of the apparently middle-class society no not yet know that they will die a violent death back home or will be killed by homesickness in emigration.
Today, neither the church nor the fortress stand. The Baltic Germans were sent to Germany by Hitler’s order in 1940, before Stalin annexed the Baltic states under the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact and exterminated a quarter to a third of their population. Of the Livonians there are perhaps 180 left in coastal fishing villages, and barely a fifth of them speak the Finno-Ugric language of their ancestors. Only this ruin stands here on a hilltop that has become an island, testifying to the determination of a single man who came here, into the unknown, to change history.
We continue inland, towards the still standing Crusader castles and the Estonian border. As we drive along the main street, the soaring apse of a modern church appears at the western end of the village.
We turn in. On the street named after Bishop Meinhard, there is a Carmelite monastery. The inscription on its door says that it was founded by the German Bonifatiuswerk, which supports the Scandinavian and Baltic Catholic diasporas.
We ring the bell. A cheerful, petite, middle-aged nun in white opens the door, and greets us in the name of Jesus in Latvian. I reply in Latin, then switch to German. She is very happy about this: “If you also speak German, you are doubly at home”, she says.
“We wold like to visit the church.” She introduces us, while I ask questions. The monastery was founded at the invitation of the Latvian government, who specifically wanted to establish a Catholic contemplative order in the country. They came to Ikšķile because they found a land here, but they were very happy to be able to settle in the cradle of Latvian Christianity. There are now eight sisters, from Essen. “How are your relations with the Lutheran majority in Latvia?” “Very good. Ecumenism is very strong in Latvia. The Lutheran bishop really likes us.” But now the Catholic bishop of Riga is visiting them, so she hurries back to the dining room. She shows us which door we will close behind us.
The church is a very clean, functional concrete and glass building, with a semicircular apse at one end and the sisters’ isolated chapel at the other, opening from the cloister.
Both the apse and the chapel have a beautiful medieval German wooden statue, obviously copies. The third figurative ornament is the neo-Romanesque relief depicting Bishop Meinhard on the lectern. The fourth one is outside, on the outer wall of the church: the Virgin Mary holding the child Jesus in the beautiful garden around the apse. This is also an island, an island of peace opposite of Meinhard’s church island.
Come with us to…
Atlantis
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Bohemia+Prague
Books, exhibitions, music, film
Brave old world
Caucasus
Cemeteries
Crimea
Get to know the
Images of the East
Lightwriting
Lwów/Lemberg
Mallorca
Message on the wall
The Museum of Propaganda
Odessa
Paper Museum
Persian letters
The Jewish heritage
