Words and books may be ambiguous memorials; but who
can misinterpret the visible solidity of bronze and
stone? At Frogmore, near Windsor, where her mother
was buried, Victoria constructed, at the cost of L200,000,
a vast and elaborate mausoleum for herself and her
husband. But that was a private and domestic
monument, and the Queen desired that wherever her
subjects might be gathered together they should be
reminded of the Prince. Her desire was gratified;
all over the country—at Aberdeen, at Perth,
and at Wolverhampton—statues of the Prince
were erected; and the Queen, making an exception to
her rule of retirement, unveiled them herself.
Nor did the capital lag behind. A month after
the Prince’s death a meeting was called together
at the Mansion House to discuss schemes for honouring
his memory. Opinions, however, were divided upon
the subject. Was a statue or an institution to
be preferred? Meanwhile a subscription was opened;
an influential committee was appointed, and the Queen
was consulted as to her wishes in the matter.
Her Majesty replied that she would prefer a granite
obelisk, with sculptures at the base, to an institution.
But the committee hesitated: an obelisk, to be
worthy of the name, must clearly be a monolith; and
where was the quarry in England capable of furnishing
a granite block of the required size? It was
true that there was granite in Russian Finland; but
the committee were advised that it was not adapted
to resist exposure to the open air. On the whole,
therefore, they suggested that a Memorial Hall should
be erected, together with a statue of the Prince.
Her Majesty assented; but then another difficulty
arose. It was found that not more than L60,000
had been subscribed—a sum insufficient to
defray the double expense. The Hall, therefore,
was abandoned; a statue alone was to be erected; and
certain eminent architects were asked to prepare designs.
Eventually the committee had at their disposal a total
sum of L120,000, since the public subscribed another
L10,000, while L50,000 was voted by Parliament.
Some years later a joint stock company was formed and
built, as a private speculation, the Albert Hall.
The architect whose design was selected, both by the
committee and by the Queen, was Mr.
Gilbert Scott,
whose industry, conscientiousness, and genuine piety
had brought him to the head of his profession.
His lifelong zeal for the Gothic style having given
him a special prominence, his handiwork was strikingly
visible, not only in a multitude of original buildings,
but in most of the cathedrals of England. Protests,
indeed, were occasionally raised against his renovations;
but Mr. Scott replied with such vigour and unction
in articles and pamphlets that not a Dean was unconvinced,
and he was permitted to continue his labours without
interruption. On one occasion, however, his devotion
to Gothic had placed him in an unpleasant situation.
