Heritage

Sadness in the Siebenburgen

Jessica Douglas-Home visited the vanishing world of the Saxons in Transylvania Does there exist a scholar prepared to devote himself to a piece of scarcely touched 12th- to 20th-century German his- tory, soon to be lost forever?

If so, he or she should hasten to meet the 75-year-old Gunther Schuller, architect-in- chief, like his father before him, of the famous Black Church of Brasov in Ruma- nia. This Saxon Gothic, now Lutheran, church in the centre of Rumania, the largest of its kind east of Vienna, needs help desperately, as do all its dependent churches in the neighbouring villages. Within their walls, and with Herr Schtiller himself, lies the key to the 800-year history of the Saxons in Transylvania.

Their dispersed archives and partially destroyed objects hold the story of the curi- ous enclave formed amid the 12th-century Slays, Magyars and Vlachs when the ances- tors of those few Saxons who still remain were placed along the southern and eastern border by the Hungarian King Stephen to strengthen his position there. For centuries they fought the Tatars or the Turks: and in the 16th century they established their native Lutheranism when the area known as the Siebenburgen stood firm against the corruption of the Catholic Church. Their language, their schools and their churches remained relatively autonomous and to this day reflect their high Protestant morality and their belief in the ethic of hard work.

It has been an extraordinary experience this summer to witness what seems the dying gasp of an exceptionally rich culture. And all the more heartbreaking when it became apparent that the deserted and often desecrated buildings we encountered are the result not of war but of mass evacu- ation. The exodus started in 1974, when Ceausescu began to barter minorities with- in Rumania for hard currency, but that was a trickle compared to the 200,000 Saxons who have departed since the West German announcement in 1990 that Germans from anywhere behind the old Iron Curtain could return to their homeland.

To discover one area of the Siebenbur- gen, take the road out of Brasov towards Sigisoara and after a few kilometres stop at almost any village — Homerod, Viscri, Cloasterf, Archita, or the most easterly Saxon settlement Drauseni (Draas) — and images of a once thriving way of life open up before you.

The structure of the churches varies, yet all adhere to a basic pattern. Built between the 12th and 16th centuries, each is sur- rounded by a massive wall used for defence against the Tatars. In one part of the forti- fication a large, double wooden door leads through a short, timbered tunnel into the precincts. In the enclosed area small towers built in to the circle of wall jut out — a bell tower, a Speckturm (containing haunches of dried pig fat), an old school, storerooms with steps up to a roofed corridor from which point the Saxons would defend themselves. The church itself is of stone and wood and sometimes plastered; its roof, made of long, round-tipped terracotta tiles, swoops down quite low. The strong, spindle-roofed main tower in some cases may be quite separate, if only by a few feet, from the church's main body.

Entering the church itself, you might see 16th-century panelled pews painted in pink, red and beige rather abstract flower patterns. In the central aisle the pews become flat, austere benches with no back- rest: areas divide up, separating men from women, the confirmed from the uncon- firmed and, if the village is exceptionally large, members of one guild from another. The font might be pre-Reformation and carved in stone. Pulpits are often crowned with a cascading hat of painted, cut-out, winged angels with a carved wooden dove floating at its centre.

But it is the altarpiece to which you will immediately and anxiously cast the eye: for it is here, if it remains intact, that the great- est aesthetic pleasure can be found. Some- times a large intricate web of golden, lacy carved wood frames a series of flat panels depicting scenes from the life of Jesus, or else a hinged triptych can be opened or closed, providing paintings on all sides. The figures full of expression, the colours, the technique and the design frequently echo the style of the best Flemish and north German masters of this period.

Now for the sadness. The door through which you entered this lost domain will have been unlocked for you by an elderly German-speaker who happened to pass by. He will tell you as much detailed history up until the present day as you require, but when together you enter the church itself, a feeling of desolation descends upon you both.

He might be the last inhabitant to look after the church: the hundreds of worship- pers have all gone; there are perhaps nine Germans now left in the village out of a previous community of 55,000. There is no priest. The gypsies have taken over the evacuated houses; their children are destroying parts of the church. Tears pour down his cheeks and then, to make matters worse, there is an offer to play the organ and you too are brought to tears as you stand transfixed alone in the church listen- ing to the passionate Lutheran hymn music, longing too for the once so ordered, recent past.

There are exceptions which counteract the feeling of hopelessness. Some of the remaining Saxons have created places for visitors to stay. So simple, clean and beauti- ful are the rooms that once discovered they could attract any amount of discerning visi- tors. In Roades a west German was living in the priest's house to guard the place; in another village an east German priest had come to try to hold the community togeth- er. In Prejmer, the largest 13th-century for- tified church in Transylvania, the priest, Johan Orendi, remains, determined to serve his parish of 158 (until recently 2,000) souls. His personality is strong and the atmosphere in his church is vibrant. Being so close to Brasov, the church is on the beaten track and has been noticed: help for repairs and maintenance comes from the Messerschmidt Foundation and the Sieben- burgische Foundation in Munich.

There are now several German bodies who are concerned about the Siebenburgen but who have not yet formed a specific pol- icy for action. The political and economic situation in Rumania is not encouraging. The old totalitarian apparatus, however `liberalised', has never left power. Recent land ownership legislation has not been favourable to the Saxons. The exodus from the towns continues. Many believe that the present regime deliberately withholds funds for restoration of Saxon buildings to put pressure on Germany to provide the money. The previous director of the National Commission for Historical Monu- ments, Peter Derer, was sacked for concen- trating too much on the Saxon churches.

The most thoughtful German document comes from the Evangelical Church Dele- gation (EKD), following their visit in May 1992. They decided to concentrate not so much on the spiritual needs of those in the cities, where the community can hold together relatively well, but more on help- ing the villages: how to look after the old and give them church services; how to sup- port the few remaining priests in their loneliness with their families departed; but above all how to secure the ancient Saxon

heritage from its imminent destruction. The structures held so much significance, they argued, that restoration must play a major role, in spite of the shortage of funds. The EKD's first project was the restoration of the schoolhouse at Medias; another was to help establish a central archive in each region. This latter idea had already been set in motion by the Lan- deskirchliche Archiv in Nuremberg and is being paid for by the Federal government.

In such a crisis it must surely be a priori- ty to help people like Herr Schaller in order to keep a continuity for better times. He is the leading living authority on the span of Transylvanian Saxon history. The Black Church itself is his speciality and, liv- ing as he does a few yards away from it and beside the largest theological library east of Budapest, Herr Schaller will be a goldmine for the first scholar who finds him.