Latvians and Livonia
Prof. A. Spekke, “Latvians and Livonia in the 16th Century”, Part III, Chapter 3, Conclusion, Paragraph 2:
“Today, our scholars—especially mythologists—are left to reconstruct the ancient Baltic Olympus and the early civilization of the Baltic tribes from fragments and ruins.
This task requires not only deep and extensive knowledge, but also pride and a synthetic spirit—a mind capable of uncovering deeper connections and the threads of destiny, capable of sensing the air filled with the unseen—ghosts of the spiritual structures and castles built by generations before us—where others see only scattered facts or nothing at all.
And these ruins are many; some are still fresh—living in our traditions (for example, folk songs and costumes), and even within our psyche.Thus, the foundation for building upon the past is wide and rich in material, and the task is far easier and quicker than, say, reconstructing the mythology of long-dead ancient cultures.
All that is needed is to begin to understand—and then, hopefully, we will finally free ourselves from the foreign misunderstandings, misinterpretations, silences, and scorn with which our history has so often been shrouded.
Then, we may begin to see what the “Baltic case” of civilization can offer and what questions it can raise for understanding the course of humanity.
When ancient Mayan cities and pyramids entwined in foreign jungle traditions are discovered in Central America, researchers and artists soon emerge to document and glorify them.
In this place—and in many others like it—we, the descendants of the ancient Baltic race, part ways forever with earlier schools of historical thought: for them, our fall and decline was seen as progress; for us, it is the foreign oppression of centuries endured.
The revival of our ancient heritage is instead a source of great and ever-renewing inspiration.”
Riga, 1935
Garlībs Merķelis, “The Latvians”, Chapter 2, “On the Latvian Character,” Paragraph 7:
“Ordinary people drag themselves along the wide road, never going where they want, but only where the crowd around them flows.
They change constantly, remaining consistent only in their chameleon-like tendency to take on the color of their surroundings.
They possess no distinct character of their own—only the one that circumstances have imposed upon their people.
They lived merrily with the French of old, politicked with the English, bartered like the Dutch, and drank themselves into oblivion among the Latvians, from cradle to grave.In contrast, those whom nature has gifted with a more fiery temperament and greater strength of character and talent stray from the well-worn path.
They rush through swamps and thickets, meadows and groves, chasing the splendid image that their imagination paints before them—until its colors slowly fade and it vanishes into the blue.
Weary, he stops to catch his breath.
Calmly, with a sharp and discerning eye, he surveys the world and weighs what his efforts have achieved.
He enjoys the fruits of his labor and, with steady step, moves toward a sure goal.
Though he no longer burns with the youthful fire and dreams of old, he is rewarded with a more modest desire—less easily deceived, yet truly satisfying.
Thus, the extraordinary man returns to the everyday world as a strong, industrious being, and the centuries bless his life; or, with eyes half-closed, he continues wandering through the magical garden of imagination.People look after him in confusion, puzzled by his strangeness—and they pity him.”
First published in Leipzig, 1797
