SIR EDWIN LUTYENS
Building
a vision
From plush country houses to stark war
memorials, Sir Edwin Lutyens could seemingly
turn his hand to anything. Adrian Mourby
celebrates the life of this visionary architect BRIDGEMAN/ROBERT EVANS/ALAMY
I
n November 2019 people from all over
Britain will gather around an unusual,
almost blank vertical stone monument
in the middle of Whitehall, the wide
street of government that leads from
Trafalgar Square to the Houses of Parliament.
The monument in question is called the
Cenotaph, using the Greek words kenos
tapho (or “empty tomb”) because it
commemorates those buried elsewhere.
It was unveiled 100 years ago, although the
original structure was constructed in wood
and rebuilt in stone the following year. The
memorial appears to be full of vertical lines,
but they are subtly shaped; if extended
into the air, all sides of the Cenotaph would
meet at a point 1,000 feet above Whitehall.
It was here on 11 November 1919 that
British soldiers and politicians assembled to
pay tribute to the 953,104 service personnel
from Britain and its empire who had died
during World War I. One person who was
not invited to the formal march past of
victorious troops was Sir Edwin Lutyens,
the architect of the Cenotaph, who admitted
his feelings were hurt by the omission. ³