MEMORIALS OF MASSACRE.
AN anonymous collector has presented to the British Museum some specimens of the medals which have been struck in Germany to commemorate episodes in the war. These will not be on view to the public apparently till after the war, but a description of them was published in the Times last week. They provoke much reflection on the curious state of mind of the German nation—not to say the German artists. They are brutal and offensive in certain instances ; where they are meant to be hortatory they are weak and uninspiring in spirit and design ; and where they are meant to be satirical they are lamentably ponderous. The present writer has seen the medal which commemorates the sinking of the Lusitania.' It is a well-nigh incredible production—not in design but in spirit—and does the deepest dishonour to the medallion who conceived it, and to the German people whose feelings are gratified by it. One side of this medal shows a emus of Americans, men, women, and children, approaching the window of a booking-office. Behind the window is a skeleton— a figure of Death—selling tickets. A comfortable-looking man in a top-hat is holding up a warning finger. Evidently he is a German advising the Americans not to embark in the ill-fated liner. Bub the spectator is given to understand that the Americans place " business above everything." Cuddle fiber Alla is the motto. On the other side is a representation of the Lusitania ' sinking, under the superscription " No Contraband." The decks of the liner are loaded with munitions of war and an aeroplane (all ready for use, oddly enough, as though aeroplanes were carried like that); and the bows of the ship, in order that pictorial misstatement may not fall short of perfection, arc fashioned in the shape of a ram. The artist is Herr Gotz, who, if we may judge by his output, seems to have hit the public taste more accurately than most of the other medallists.
This glorificai ion of the Lusitania ' crime does not bear thinking about. The artistic revelling in all the circumstances and the death of innocent men, women, and children, numerous enough to populate a small town, is utterly revolting One could just under- stand an argument to the effect that " stern necessity " required the sinking of the Lusitania,' even though one could not for a moment excuse the argument ; but to celebrate the deed by medals to be kept as agreeable souvenirs is beyond comprehension. The reign of Louis Quatorze was remarkable for its exquisite com- memorative medals, but, so far as we know, no medalist thought the murderous devastation of the Palatinate by the " Most Christian Turk," as Englishmen called Louis, was a suitable subject for a medaL Napoleon had several medals struck in honour of his achievements, but we never heard that his medallists dared to sup- pose that they would be consulting his honour by commemorating the base acts which he thought military necessity required him to commit. They did not design medals in honour of the execution of the Due d'Enghien, or of the unhappy Bavarian bookseller Palm, or in honour of his massacre of two thousand five hundred prisoners of war at Jaffa. Napoleon's medals were innocent of brutality, what- ever we may think of their vanity and vaingloriousness. Englishmen, for instance, look with pleasure, combined with an agreeable sense of security, on the medal which Napoleon had struck, with pitiful prematureness, to commemorate his invasion of England. The words " frappe & Londres " on the medal are surely the finality of organized mendacity. " Nullum scribendi genus quod tetigit non ornavit," wrote Johnson of Goldsmith. It would be almost true to say of the German medallists that they can touch no subject without making it infamous. The German medal of the Lusitania ' episode is worse than the Papal medal commemorating the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. At least Gregory XIII. believed that he was celebrating the saving of souls. The Germans know that they are glorifying nothing but the god of material force.
The criticism in the Times mentions other medals which are now in the British Museum. One heavily satirizes the arrival of the Indian troops in France. They are represented as a travelling circus. An Indian carries a placard announcing (with five mistakes in the French) the chief attraction ; and there is a Highlander of terrific stature who is shoving a reluctant elephant towards the war. Another shows Bismarck, like Cato in the famous statue, pronouncing his " Delenda est Carthago " over the British Navy. But the critic says that Bismarck looks as though he had taken refuge in an armchair from the rising tide. Other medals, which exploit the theme of " Gott strafe England," have Admiral Tirpitz as the principal figure. We can well believe that the very long straggling beard of the Admiral cannot be treated heroically. On the reverse of one of these medals Neptune is seen seated on a submarine and shaking his fist at British shipping. But unhappily the god is said to look as though he had been marooned on a little island and were venting his wrath on the ship that deserted him. A prematurely struck medal is in honour of von Kluck, and the reverse represents a Fury riding " to Paris 1914." Yet another curiously mendacious medal shows London round about the Tower Bridge being burnt by Zeppelin bombs on August 17th-I8th, 1915. It may be said here that the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery has had on view for some time a set of these German medals. The bombardment of Scarborough and the bombing of Southend are among the subjects treated. Photographic reproductions of some of these medals are being sold in aid of the Red Cross funds. One wonders why the Germans have not struck medals in honour of the massacres of Louvain, Aerschot, and Dinant. But perhaps they have done it. The shooting of a long row of civilian hostages would surely make a highly impressive design, and a delightful souvenir! Mr. Raemaekers's cartoons would give the German medallists a wrinkle or two, if they have any power of inversion. There is the making of an unforgettable medal in the words of the condemned Belgian boy hostage, " What have we done, father ? "
The art of the med allist has fallen on evil days in Britain, through neglect, not through baseness. By a negative process, perhaps the products of Germany may bestir our artists to a revival. It is very Interesting to know that Sir Arthur Evans, President of the Royal Numismatic Society, has offered prizes for medals in honour of the battle of Jutland Bank. When the war ends there will be on view, in the Layard Collection, an exceptionally interesting picture which will remind our medallists of a great episode in the history of their art. Mohammed II., after the capture of Constantinople, wished to celebrate his triumph by means of a commemorative medal. His fancy had been fired by what he had heard, or seen, of medals in Christian countries, and to satisfy his desire he was willing to disre- gard the strictest injunctions of Islam. He applied to the Venetian Republic, and on their recommendation invited Gentile Bellini- brother of the more famous Giovanni Bellini—to visit Constantinople. Gentile Bellini, among many other works completed at Constan- tinople, painted a portrait of Mohammed in profile in order that it might be reproduced on a medal. The medal was afterwards struck—or was it cast ?—in Venice, and examples are extant.
The demand for war memorials will certainly give a fine oppor- tunity to medallists. Why not have a real revival ? France has never dropped the art, and those who know the work of Chaplain, Roty, and others realize that, though there is much common stuff turned out, there is also much that is good. Thomas Simon, the creator of the medal which celebrated Cromwell's victory at Dunbar, and who also designed the Great Seal of 'His Highness the Protector of the Liberties of England,' was probably altogether tho greatest of English medallists. No art is more difficult if it be required to suggest an important episode in a very small space. The inability to reject detail, and the consequent overcrowding and weakness, has always been the pitfall of the medallist, even to some extent of Simon. The medallist who refuses to be content with simple portraits must, if he would be great, be a master of representative ideas. If he cannot let you see the wood for the trees he is lost, and so is every one who looks upon the medal.
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