The Thiepval Memorial to the Missing is the principal, tangible expression of Britain’s defining experience in the Great War―the first day of the Battle of the Somme. It bears the names of 73,000 soldiers whose bodies were never found at the end of that bloody and futile campaign. Visited by tens of thousands of tourists, it holds notable elements of the 20th century while casting a shadow into the future, extending beyond the dead of the Holocaust to the "disappeared" of South America and Tianenmen. A brilliant study to arguably the finest structure erected by any British architect in the 20th century, the origin of this marvel is revealed here in the context of commemorating the fallen, considering its historical significance, and touching on its resonances today.
I came across ‘The Memorial to the Missing of the Somme’ via Owen Hatherley’s twitter, where he recommended it as a particularly good book about architecture. Indeed, the writing style is quite similar to his own: exacting, thoughtful, alternately generous and waspish. At first I doubted that a single war memorial, however magnificent, could merit two hundred pages of discussion. I swiftly became interested, however, despite having only vaguely heard of Edwin Lutyens before. (I’d come across him as a designer of mansions with gardens by Gertrude Jekyll, who he collaborated with.) It seems he was an architectural genius and a rather maddening man, constantly making puns. He revered Christopher Wren and coined the term ‘Wrenaissance’. Despite this perpetual levity he was responsible for the Whitehall Cenotaph, as well as the Thriepval Arch on one of the most deadly battlefields the world has ever known. This visually fascinating multi-arched memorial contains the names of all 73,357 men of the British army who vanished in the Battle of the Somme.
Stamp gives an outline of the battle and its appallingly destructive pointlessness: the British suffered 419,654 casualties, the French 204,253, and the Germans somewhere between 450,000 (German estimate) and 680,000 (British estimate). The front line moved barely three miles during those months of slaughter. Such gargantuan, senseless killing deserves a serious effort at collective remembrance. Accordingly, Stamp praises the British authorities for creating a series of striking monuments that convey sorrow rather than bombast. No-one won the Battle of the Somme. The village the arch is named after, Thriepval, was so thoroughly obliterated that its exact location was lost forever. The ground was so dense with corpses that when a visitors centre was being constructed in 2004, the bodies of seven German soldiers were uncovered. The book balances these horrors with a clear account of Lutyens, and of the architectural references drawn upon to honour the sacrifices of the lost without glorifying the war.
Stamp argues convincingly for the lasting impact of this particular memorial, although I was less convinced by his relative disdain for the French efforts (for example the Verdun memorial which is also an ossuary). I’d have to see both to make a judgement and this book made me think it would be worth doing so. This is unusual for a book on architecture, as I usually read them as a comfortable sofa-based substitute for going to places myself. Stamp’s well-evidenced passion for this specific monument is infectious. Even if you have no specific interest in war memorials, I recommend this elegantly expressed and powerful book. It is an excellent non-technical architectural history and a moving paean of praise.
At first sight The Memorial To The Missing Of The Somme seems an unusual choice for the Wonders Of The World series. In comparison to other books which have been published as part of this project such as the Parthenon and the Colosseum, the Memorial is quite obscure, better known amongst architectural historians than the general public. However, readers of this book would be unlikely to regard it as undeserving of sitting within the company of its' more illustrious neighbours.
Stamp's account is certainly ambitious, fully explaining the context which led to the creation of the monument: events of the First World War, the career of architect Sir Edwin Lutyens, and the work of the War Graves Commission which was appointed to create suitable graveyards and memorials following the end of hostilities.
Thankfully as a writer Stamp is up to the task. His erudite yet sympathetic approach results in a compelling and moving narrative. This results in a book which is as fine a memorial as Lutyens' arch itself. It can be recommended to those interested in the First World War, to which it could serve effectively as an introductory volume, and fans of architectural histories.
The book concludes with a useful practical guide to visiting the monument and an excellent section on further reading for those who want to find out more.