SAINT GEORGE
From the Clarence Memorial,
Windsor
In the nature of things it is hard to illustrate the whole of a full and vigorous personality from one or two of his works. Perhaps Gilbert, in his double capacity of craftsman and imaginative designer, can best be judged from the Tomb of the late Duke of Clarence, in the Memorial Chapel, Windsor. It has a double interest, inasmuch as it reveals at once the strength and the weakness of his method.
Directly after the sad death of the Prince in 1892, the sculptor was called to Sandringham. He arrived on the Saturday and learnt the wishes of the present King and Queen. During the Sunday night Gilbert conceived and designed the whole monument. Three days later he submitted the completed sketch.
He knew the Wolsey Chapel in which the tomb was to be placed to be of Gothic design and, consequently, determined upon a sarcophagus, surrounded by an open-work grille, such as Peter Vischer might have chosen. As it is to be seen to-day, the recumbent figure of the Prince lies upon the bier. Two angels kneel, the one at the head, the other at the feet. With beautiful fancy, Gilbert has carved the first holding a crown above the dead man’s head—the crown of immortality, which prince, peer and peasant can earn. The angel at the base of the sarcophagus places a broken wreath on the feet—in memory of a death upon the eve of marriage.
The figure of the “[Saint George]” is one of a series of Patron Saints introduced into the grille. St. Nicholas, St. Edward the Confessor, St. Barbara, and St. George are included, the selection depending upon some legendary connection with the Royal House of Britain.
The “[Saint George]” was exhibited in the form of a statuette at the Royal Academy. The poetical design and fine craftsmanship aroused general enthusiasm. What could be more charming, for example, than the grace with which Gilbert has played with his pretty fancy of basing the armour of the Saint upon forms suggested by the sea-shells? Yet there is nothing oppressive in the sculptor’s use of this idea. It is never permitted to interfere with the main lines of the figure. The insistence upon the shell-like forms has, rather, a fugal charm, the fancy being treated now in one part of the design, now in another, a slightly varying form here, answering a similar one there, until all have been interwoven into one beautiful complexity.
Unfortunately, the praise that is due to a work as beautiful as the “[Saint George]” cannot be given to the Clarence Memorial as a whole. Indeed, in its place, the effect of the statuette, instead of being heightened, is diminished. The instance is typical of the impression left by the complete work. Brilliantly imaginative as the general conception was, the original ideas have not fused into that grand unity which is the last test of the greatest works of art. Between the first conception of a great memorial—say the Medici Chapel, the Tomb of Maximilian, or the Clarence Memorial—and the final result, there is a great gulf fixed. More than imaginative craftsmanship is required to bridge this. The task calls for unswerving patience and not a little business tact. In one or another of these faculties, Gilbert seems to be lacking. The imagination and craftsmanship which produce a work like the “[Saint George]” flag before a commission of the first magnitude is completed. An artistic creed like Alfred Gilbert’s is a magnificent thing. But it needs to be allied with strength of character and a rigid self-criticism. Had the English sculptor added a measure of the nature of Michael Angelo to the strain of rich poetry and high artistic ideality with which he has been endowed, England would have been able to boast a genius of the first order. As things are, it can be grateful for—an Alfred Gilbert.
ONSLOW FORD