A good ten years after his first artistic engagement with the ruins at Oybin, Friedrich painted another picture that takes the eastern section of the Gothic sacristy as its starting point. (1) In the center, however, there is no longer an altar—as in the oil painting from ca. 1812—but a mighty stone tomb crowned with a suit of armor, the front of which catches our eye. A sculpture with a cross, which could be read as an allegory of faith, has also been added next to the lancet window on the right. The fact that it has been robbed of its head recalls the iconoclasm of the Reformation or, more generally, the questioning of church-based religion.

A man in old German costume stands in front of the stone sarcophagus, examining its lid. He encourages the viewer standing before the picture to move in closer to the depicted monument. Those who do abandon the usual viewing distance are rewarded with important insights: closer inspection reveals the inscription “Hutten” on the base of the armor, and—according to reliable sources—additional names could formerly be deciphered on the front of the sarcophagus: “Jahn 1813,“ “Arndt 1813,” „Stein 1813,“ „Gorres 1821,” “D… 1821,” and “F. Scharnhorst.“ In this way, protagonists of the Wars of Liberation are associated with the humanist Ulrich von Hutten, who around 1800 was regarded as a freedom fighter, patriot, and early sympathizer of the Reformation, but who had not been honored with a tomb after his death in 1523.

Friedrich’s painting has often been understood as marking a political position in the years of the Restoration, either as a militant and defiant commitment to national and democratic ideas, or at least as a resigned look back at the hopes of the years from 1813 onwards, which had since proved to be illusory. The fresh green sprouting from the ruined walls and the contrast between the dark foreground and the bright play of colors in the sky can certainly be interpreted in this way. Nevertheless, the picture itself does not formulate a bold statement, but remains undefined. Precisely because of this, it could be political in its own way: it opens up space for thought, whereas the Restoration, with its return to the old order, tried to exclude alternative social concepts.

It is not entirely clear when the painting—which was exhibited several times between 1824 and 1826, in Dresden, Hamburg, and Berlin—came to Weimar, although a historical photograph shows that Friedrich’s painting was on display in the grand duke’s chambers in Weimar around 1865. (2) As the Weimar court was comparatively open to political reform, its purchase by a member of the grand ducal family would be entirely plausible.

Johannes Grave, in: exh. cat. Hamburg 2023, p. 146

(1) On the painting see Börsch-Supan/Jähnig 1973, pp. 389 f., no. 316; exh. cat. Hamburg 1974, pp. 270 f.; Eimer 1982, pp. 177–85; Gross 1990, pp. 14 f.; Frank 2004, pp. 163 f.; Marker 2007, pp. 63–66; Pester 2010; Grave 2022, pp. 192–207; Grave 2023, pp. 135–41.

(2) See Jena 2013, p. 199 and pl. XIII.