IV

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.