When I first visited Riga in 2018, I had the opportunity to work in the National Library of Latvia. A very modern ensemble of glass and metal, the library’s high windows overlook the River Daugava and the old city. In a clement September, the bright sun sparkled off the flowing waters and soaring spires, a truly staggering panorama of one of eastern Europe’s most gorgeous cities. Now my only regret is that I had not yet read Kevin O’Connor’s wonderful book to put this amazing sight into its proper historical perspective.
Stretching from the arrival of the first German merchants in the late eleventh century to Russia’s conquest of the city in 1710, O’Connor weaves an engaging narrative of warfare, politics, economics, and society. Highlights are descriptions of the brutalities of the Northern Crusades, the upheavals of the Lutheran Reformation as it swept across the Baltic, and the final, agonising death of Swedish Riga as it was besieged by flood, plague, and cannonball. These events are, however, always rooted within a concern for Riga’s physical and social environments: the reader is continually updated on the changing cityscape and how grandiose historical developments impacted the lives of normal Rigans, be they from the wealthy German merchantry or the city’s large Livonian underclass.
For O’Connor, medieval and early modern Riga was fundamentally a German city, unquestionably modelled on such northern European trading hubs and replicating their institutions and social structures. Drawing initially on luxury goods from the Russian interior and later on shipbuilding materials from the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, German merchants dominated the city’s economic, social, and cultural life, ultimately creating an exclusionary environment designed to shield themselves from outsiders, whether Latvians in the suburbs or foreign traders from abroad. In this sense, while strongly resembling its counterparts in Germany, Riga was most like Danzig (Gdansk) and its northern neighbour Reval (Tallinn).
O’Connor closely follows the fundamental differences between Riga and its German sister-cities. First, there were the crusaders, the Livonian Order. Their presence was both an encumbrance and a necessity to the other two parties involved in urban politics, the archbishop and the city council. Although the knights and their servants sought to control civic life, the city required their swords to defend it from hinterland tribes and more powerful states. Tracing the outcome of this triangular struggle for control occupies much of the first half of the book. By the time the Order had conclusively won, however, it was too late: in the early modern age, a ramshackle conglomeration of city council and crusading military order could not stand against the rapidly centralising empires around it.
Second, this German city sat amidst a land full of competing native groups, some occasionally in alliance with the city, others seeking its destruction: its relationship with these peoples was, as O’Connor correctly diagnoses, colonial in nature, as the latter were exploited, often coercively, for their money, labour, and resources. Riga’s size and economic pre-eminence drew in crowds of Lats and Livs, often forced there by conflict, famine, and the brutality of the Baltic German aristocracy. While they might find freedom in the city’s outskirts (for they were seldom allowed to settle in the old town itself), they did not find equality: clothing choices, housing locations, and educational opportunities were all circumscribed by the city’s strictly hierarchical structure, one which put Germans on top and all others underneath. When the city of Riga came to suffer (and suffer it did from famine, flood, and fire), it was all these hapless people who suffered and suffered most. Even the Swedes, seeking to rationalise the messy suburbs into neat squares and broad prospects, forbade buildings to be constructed of anything but wood: in the event of war, these houses and businesses would have to be burnt to give the fortress walls a clear view of approaching enemies. It is to O’Connor’s great credit that he does not abandon these Livonian groups to the condescension of history: although sources describing their daily lives are near non-existent, he tries to give the reader at least an appreciation of their experiences in and around Riga.
Finally, Riga sat on a tense but also productive international crossroads, with Russians to the east, Poles and Prussians to the south, and Scandinavians to the north. This was also a religious meeting point, with Riga’s Catholic (later Lutheran) churches being joined by small Orthodox sites for Russian merchants. This strategic position was both Riga’s core strength and perhaps its most fundamental weakness. Its proximity to the Russian lands and their wealth of furs and trees allowed the city to boom, becoming the Baltic’s premier emporium. But this wealth and geographical site drew envious eyes: between 1600 and 1710, the city passed from Polish to Swedish to Russian rule, each war bringing with it devastation.
There can be no doubt that O’Connor achieves one of his major aims with his wonderfully colourful and evocative story: medieval and early modern Riga must surely now be put alongside the trading towns of northwestern Europe in any subsequent history. With expert sure-footedness, the author carefully avoids the glaring excesses of Latvian, Russian, and German nationalist narratives to deliver a thoughtful and captivating synthesis that will appeal to both specialists and the general public in equal measure.
Review author: J. M. White