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Issue 228 · Summer 2026
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Woven Histories: Reading the Croÿ Tapestry in Greifswald

A two-day symposium in Greifswald turned fresh eyes on the Croÿ Tapestry, the monumental 1554 weaving that places Martin Luther in the pulpit between the ruling houses of Saxony and Pomerania.

M

Markus Voigt

Contributing Editor

8 min read27 Sept 2026

Figures from the Croÿ Tapestry

It is a sad fact that, since the unification of the two parts of Germany more than thirty-five years ago, I have visited the former DDR a grand total of five times. On the other hand, I have been dozens of times to the US, had uncountable stays in the western part of Europe and have even stayed in Russia four times. To attend this symposium, I travelled twelve-and-a-half hours by train, from the southwest corner of Germany to the northeast coast, which is probably as long as a German train ride can be. Looking at the train stations along the way, one wouldn’t notice crossing the east-west border, which now only appears to exist within myself.

he Croÿ Tapestry, workshop of Peter Heymans, Stettin, ca. 1554. University of Greifswald, on permanent loan to the Pomeranian State Museum

Over 500 years ago a similar divide ran through German lands. It is in 1517 that Martin Luther is said to have nailed his Ninety-Five Theses on the door of the All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg (although whether he actually did is disputed, of course). His theses mark the start of the Reformation, which established two different Christian faiths in what would become present-day Germany. This partition vaguely resembles the border created in the 20th century.

The conference ‘Woven Histories’ took place in Greifswald on the Baltic coast, with the purpose of examining the so-called Croÿ Tapestry. Belonging to the old University of Greifswald, it is on permanent loan to the Pomeranian State Museum. The museum is a marvel of modern architecture, combining two historic buildings and showing the history of Pomerania. It hosts a splendid collection of Romantic paintings arranged around Greifswald’s most famous son, Caspar David Friedrich.

The tapestry was commissioned in 1553 and woven in Stettin (Szczecin) in the workshop of Peter Heymans (active 1547–1566). It was finished in 1554. In his presentation, Koenraad Brosens spoke about the vital role of networks in the production of tapestries, and especially the importance of family networks. Heymans must have had a good network, as the excellent quality of the weave confirms. However, as so many weavers left Flanders at the time, he wasn’t able to establish a lasting legacy.

The Croÿ Tapestry, workshop of Peter Heymans, Stettin, ca. 1554. University of Greifswald, on permanent loan to the Pomeranian State Museum. A rare instance of a single tapestry being a commission rather than a suite.

‘One of the most iconographically arresting tapestries produced for a German patron during the sixteenth century is the dynastic Croy tapestry,’ wrote Thomas P. Campbell in Tapestry in the Renaissance, published in 2002 by the New York Met, of which he later became head. He continued, ‘This is one of the most ambitious of a group of tapestries woven by Netherlandish weavers who migrated from the Netherlands to Germany to escape religious persecution during the 1540s and 1550s.’

The large tapestry, just a bit more than thirty square metres in size, shows two groups of life-size figures in a church-like interior. On the pulpit stands Martin Luther; to the left and below are members of the house of Ernestine of Saxony; and to the right the House of Griffin of Pomerania. Two other important figures of the Reformation, Philipp Melanchthon and Johann Bugenhagen, are on the left and right of the pulpit respectively, identifiable through their dark-brown birettas.

Philip I of Pomerania (1515–1560), who commissioned The Croÿ Tapestry seen standing next to several women.

The commissioner of the tapestry, Philip I of Pomerania (1515–1560), is shown on the right-hand side, next to the women. It is interesting to note that his uncle and father, to his left, both wear Schauben, coats trimmed with fur, as do all his sons. However, his coat is different and could have a silk collar. The Saxons on the left of the tapestry are wearing higher-quality fur on their shoulders. In his presentation, Philipp Zitzlsperger explained, with reference to the ‘Reichspolizeiordnung’ of 1530, what kind of dress was allowed for different classes of society. He speculated that Philip is depicted at a time before his marriage.

In Lucas Cranach the Younger’s portrait of him of 1541, where he looks older than in the tapestry, Philip is shown with the same fur as worn by the Saxons. Several people shown in the tapestry were long dead, therefore different timelines are perfectly possible. Thomas Kaufmann, a leading expert on the Reformation, pointed out that the tapestry should depict equal standing for the two houses and, therefore, the presence of different furs must have a different explanation. A possible implication is that Philip was slightly deferential to his brother-in-law.

One of the readings of the tapestry is that it was to commemorate the marriage of Philip I to Maria of Saxony in 1536, where Martin Luther—as shown in the pulpit—was present and for which he wrote the sermon. However, Luther was already eight years dead when the tapestry was finished, and, on another level, the weaving tells the story of the political interconnection between the families, as on the day of the marriage a military agreement was signed as well. That the youngest of the Saxons under the pulpit is placed next to the oldest of the Pomeranians might indicate a wish to imply a longer continuity than actually existed. Philip’s father, who in reality had been leaning towards Catholicism, had been dead for several years when the marriage took place.

Detail of the upper border of the Croÿ Tapestry, showing Johann Bugenhagen's seal beside a harp. It commemorates the Lutheran church order he wrote for Pomerania in 1535.

The union of the two houses established the Reformation in Saxony and Pomerania, and it is the story of the new Christian faith that the tapestry tells next. Johann Bugenhagen wrote the Lutheran church order for Pomerania in 1535; this is commemorated in the upper border, where next to a harp his seal is depicted. He refashioned the University of Greifswald as a Lutheran institution like its equivalent in Wittenberg. In the centre of the—separately woven—upper border is Luther’s rose and cartouche, and further on that of Philipp Melanchthon, depicting his sign of a cross with a snake. Even the diverging interpretations of the new faith were now united in this ‘Tapetum Concordiae’. Bugenhagen had also arranged the marriage between Philip I and Maria of Saxony.

The likenesses of the figures depicted in the tapestry are based on paintings by Lucas Cranach the Elder, who was enthusiastic about the Protestant Reformation, a good friend of Luther, and court painter to the electors of Saxony. When the time came for preparing the tapestry’s cartoon, there were no available pictures of two members of Philip’s family, so Philip ordered them from his brother-in-law. He had then had an artist come from the workshop of Lucas Cranach to assist with portraits of his children.

Even the symbols for the four Evangelists on the pulpit are taken from a woodcut by Cranach. The power of words is shown not only on the pulpit but all around it. Luther’s hand rests on the Bible, his other hand signs towards the scripture, and on the other side Moses is holding up a tablet where it is written in Hebrew ‘Love the Lord your God; Love your neighbour as yourself’—the Old-Testament wording altered to reflect the way it is cited by Christ in the New Testament.

The execution of the faces is excellent and the quality of the weave, especially the achieved three-dimensionality, is wonderful. The image of Jesus on the cross is not flat against the wall— he seems to enter the room, just as the pulpit comes towards us.

The execution of the faces is excellent and the quality of the weave, especially the achieved three-dimensionality, is wonderful. The image of Jesus on the cross is not flat against the wall— he seems to enter the room, just as the pulpit comes towards us, with the symbols of the four Evangelists. Silver and gold thread are used to highlight the shine of silk and to show precious metal in the clothing. Particularly noteworthy are the golden stars on silver ground on the lower end of the white dresses of Sybille of Jülich-Kleve-Berg on the left and Amelia, daughter of Philip I, to the right.

Why the Croÿ Tapestry is not called the House of Griffin tapestry is because the son of the last of the Griffins left jewellery, some money and the tapestry to the university of Greifswald, with the obligation to stage a celebration every ten years to the memory of his beloved mother, Anna of Croÿ, born Anna of Pomerania. Her husband, Ernst of Croÿ, died days after the birth of his son. It is a bitter irony that the Catholic French Croÿ family, who actually withheld her husband’s inheritance from Anna, now give their name to one of the most important Protestant artworks of the House of Griffin.

The upper right of the tapestry has a representation of a stone cartouche bearing the date 1893, when this area was rewoven.

On the upper right of the tapestry is a representation of a stone cartouche bearing the date 1893, when this area was rewoven. Since 1710, if not earlier, there had been just a canvas to be seen there. It is not known if this was due to damage from infestation, if a cannonball went through the tapestry, or whether someone cut something out. There is some historic and circumstantial evidence that a depiction of the birth of Christ once occupied this space.

Anna’s celebration has been held every ten years since 1680. This sequence was interrupted only by World Wars. After the Second World War the tapestry was left stranded in West Germany, to be returned to Greifswald only in 1956.

Incidentally, that was also the year that my grandparents and my mother fled to the West. Standing at a food stall at Greifswald market square I noticed on the menu Pflaumensuppe mit Klüten, and had a flashback across sixty years remembering my grandmother serving me plum soup with dumplings. Roots are stronger than borders.

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About the author

Markus Voigt

Contributing Editor

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