In praise of … Lutyens’ Cenotaph | Editorial
It conveys a longed-for nobility in sacrifice, inspired by the Greek idea of a visible memorial to the invisible dead
The empty tomb, elevated on a high pedestal, was knocked up in a matter of days as a temporary wooden structure at the suggestion of prime minister David Lloyd George for “peace day” in July 1919. Regarded with some mistrust by politicians who feared it could become a focus for discontent in troubled times, instead it was immediately successful in conveying a longed-for nobility in sacrifice, inspired by the Greek idea of a visible memorial to the invisible dead. Its architect, Edwin Lutyens, was already endowing the casualties of the western front with a kind of immortality through the simple headstones of Portland stone that he designed for the Imperial War Graves Commission. Since his death in 1944, his reputation has bobbed about on the tides of fashion. But – however one feels about war – the Cenotaph, memorialising more than a million dead, is a model of understatement not always typical of later memorials.
