MEMORIALS—PLEASANT AND UNPLEASANT. [COMNIOATED.]
THE Horrors of Peace that were so freely promised us in both prophecy and pleasantry have proved a good deal more real than many of us could have believed at the signing of the Armistice. Those of us, for instance, who care greatly about such matters, imagined with an optimism now shown groundless, that the war monuments designed to be set up throughout the country might in some sort be worthy of what they would commemorate and be inspired by a new spirit of fitness and reasonableness that most of our past memorials lacked. In nine out of every ten villages, the unique chance is being frittered away and good money is being spent on bad art. Not every village is so fortunate as to have some person of light and leading upon its Memorial Committee which must needs just do what seems best to the minds of its uninstructed majority.
Memorials thus begotten, by Prejudice out of Ignorance, are too often an offence to the sensitive and give imaginative pleasure to none ; though as genuine expressions (however inept and inarti- culate) of the people's gratitude, they are still worthy of respect. But, if in these cases artistic solecisms may be viewed with sorrow rather than with anger, there can be no such toleration for those who, with at least the opportunity of knowing better, still offend against the sense and sensibility of all ordinarily cultivated persons. There is no lack of enterprising gentlemen, eager to catch the public's fancy and to thrust upon it this or that memorial scheme wherein they may themselves secure a share of fame with those who won it hardly in the field. To live in as well as by his works is the very legitimate aspiration of every artist, and, so far as his works are good, it is even laudable. It is not perhaps so much the pushful architects who are to blame (and, after all, pushful " is only rude for" enterprising"), but the too uncritical characters in Who's Who that lend mad schemes their supposedly sane support.
Scarcely had the guns had time to cool, when an opportunist, with perhaps as much instinct for publicity 83 for architecture, displayed a grandiose plan for an Empire War Memorial that was to transform Westminster. The scheme involved the ruthless destruction of historic buildings to make way for new construction no less ruthless in that it ignored the old that was permitted to survive. Yet the prospectus for this strange project bore upon it a number of really distin- guished names, and therefore, presumably, had influential support. True, informed criticism and saner counsels slew the thing in its weird infancy, but the impressive list of eminent god-parents gave some of us a bad fortnight. The fear that Who's Who would at least be mildly interested in the fate of its godchild, if indeed it did not fight for its life with tooth and claw, happily proved entirely groundless. The sponsors recognized that they had rashly backed an impossible baby, and its timely death certainly relieved them of contingent responsibilities that might soon have become embarrassing. But that story of the Zealous Architect and the Credulous Notables is happily ended. May the newer and sadder story of the Unpopular Pylon end as happily.
In spite of certain early enthusiastic descriptions of the Times, Sir Frank Baines' surprising project is now authorita- tively condemned; so unpopular had it indeed become that the Daily Mail published an admirable article, entitled "Sir Alfred and Sir Frank," boldly damning it. In this case Sir Alfred Mond appears to have been sponsor, a role now rapidly merging into the less enviable one of "Prisoner's Friend." It is this fact that was ominous and gave the affair of the Pylon its alarming aspect. Are we indeed to have our " national " monuments imposed upon us by the First Commissioner of Works or his assistants (even "Unofficially"), be they never so well-meaning and happily inspired ? Is there for us anything national about an ancient Egyptian temple, be it never so " koloesal " 1 Assuredly there is not. That East is East and West is West, may be highly arguable, but to mix up Philas with Hyde Park Corner is more than a geographical error. And why should it be claimed as a virtue in the suggested mc nu- ment that it implies "No particular religious creed" 7 After all, Sir Alfred Mond, even when he aids a scheme "unofficially," should really remember that he is now in the service of a Christian king and people—not of a Pharaoh. He has made an error in time as well as in space.
But apart from its inherent defects and violent die-harmony with its surroundings, both in conception and scale, the projected monument had the fatal disability of having the wrong parents ; as the President of the Royal Institute of British Architects points out in a dignified protest to the Times:— " . . . I protest very earnestly against employing a Government Department to produce the monument which, above all others, should represent the finest art of our country. Its designer should be chosen with the utmost care, and his merit proved by work submitted in public competition."
Another memorial that will be of national interest and impor- tance is that of the Brigade of Guards, of which we as yet know little save that it is to be placed on the Horse Guards Parade opposite the archway. It is a site fraught with as many difficul- ties as opportunities, yet until the names of the selected architect and sculptor are published, we may hope for the best. In modern commemorative art, however, the best is more often hoped for than achieved, and, grown weary of monuments computed in so many tons of masonry for so many pounds spent, we are not unnaturally apprehensive. There is usually no stint of money or of materials, it is only imagination that is lacking. Lacking which, a monument can be but a poor still-born thing and no true memorial. In designing the Whitehall Cenotaph Sir Edwin Lutyens had sufficient imagination to be austere. A lesser artist might have stooped to sentiment or triumph.
In the hope of parrying the otherwise just complaint that my criticism is merely destructive, and with no illusions about the acceptability of my ideas, I will make the few suggestions that occur to me. First, what is the purpose of, let us say, the Guards' Memorial To honour the dead and inspire the living. To record the heroism and sacrifice of days past that a standard may be set for days to come. To afford all surviving past and present members of the Brigade an opportunity of paying a tribute to those others who fell—an opportunity shared in com- mon with their families and friends. Such considerations will of themselves ensure generous help, but the assurance that the projected monument is also worthy of support on artistic grounds will sensibly affect the response of many. The mere application of two R.A.'s to twenty tons of marble does not necessarily result in a monument that is even tolerable. We have indeed a full court of witnesses to the contrary. An idea must be there first. Executive skill, important as it is, is clearly second to vision.
For want of a better example, picture, then, the memorial perhaps somewhat thus, a little away from the beaten track. A simple, massive, well-proportioned archway of Portland stone, not over-large, admitting to a little court under the dappled shade of the old plane trees that fringe the park. The court is circular and enclosed by a seven-foot wall, bearing inscribed tablets, giving the names of all the fallen. Across the flagged court from the entrance arch, a roofed loggia with bencl es offers travellers rest and shelter, whilst a little pool in the centre reflects in its tranquil surface the green vines upon the loggia pillars. A guardsman, in battle order, stands sentry at the going in. The battle honours of each regiment are clearly carved above the arch, the date of the actions being given also. On the anniversary of each action, the colours of the Regiment or regiments concerned are displayed from above the gateway— the dates inscribed upon its stones telling the passer-by what battle was fought upon that day. By night—on the night of assembly for the attack—and on the following arduous night of consolidation and counter-attack—a light burns high above the arch—its yellow beams forming a cross of light in the darkness, as they shine out through narrow loopholes in the four dark walls.
At all times the monument is saluted by all Guardsmen, a Guardsman guards it, and Guardsmen tend it, as befits a Guards memorial. These may not be good ideas, but they are at least ideas. Even if they are bad ideas, they are perhaps better than none at all. With monuments it is otherwise. No monument is better beyond. all calculation than a bad one. Such poor ideas may at least provoke better ones, whilst one could imagine a sufficiency of bad monuments provoking revolution. The suggestions thus tentatively put forward will perhaps, and perhaps justly, be called fantastic. The present writer vividly recalls a certain conference before the battle of Cambrai, after which a distinguished general gave his opinion of the whole idea as "Fantastic—not a military operation at all." Yet that attack, because of its "ideas," was a reverberating success as against the " stock " battles of mass and money that preceded it. It has been lightly said that we get the monuments that we deserve. If that were so one need have no fear for that of the Guards, for it would assuredly be a very fine and noble
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