Generally speaking, the taste of the producers was uneducated and much inferior to that of the French.  Most of the designs in carpets, hangings, pottery, and silks were merely copies, and were often extremely ugly.  England, at this time the first among the Industrial Nations, had utterly failed to hold her own in the Arts.

Machinery had taken the place of handwork, and with the death of the latter art and industry had ceased to have any relation.  Public taste in architecture was equally bad.  A ‘revival’ of the art of the Middle Ages resulted only in a host of poor imitations.  “Thirty or forty years ago, if you entered a cathedral in France or England, you could say at once, ’These arches were built in the age of the Conqueror—­that capital belonged to the earlier Henrys.’ . . .  Now all this is changed.  You enter a cathedral, and admire some iron work so rude you are sure it must be old, but which your guide informs you has just been put up by Smith of Coventry.  You see . . . some painted glass so badly drawn and so crudely coloured it must be old—­Jones of Newcastle."[9]

[Footnote 9:  Fergusson, History of Modern Styles of Architecture.]

John Ruskin, who was in many ways the greatest art teacher of his age, was the first to point out the value and the method of correct observation of all that is beautiful in nature and in art.

In an address on “Modern Manufacture and Design,” delivered to the working men of Bradford, he declared:  “Without observation and experience, no design—­without peace and pleasurableness in occupation, no design—­and all the lecturings, and teachings, and prizes and principles of art, in the world are of no use, so long as you don’t surround your men with happy influences and beautiful things. . . .  Inform their minds, refine their habits, and you form and refine their designs; but keep them illiterate, uncomfortable, and in the midst of unbeautiful things, and whatever they do will still be spurious, vulgar, and valueless.”

At the time, however, the Exhibition proved a great success, and the Duke of Coburg carried most favourable impressions away with him.  He says:  “The Queen and her husband were at the zenith of their fame. . . .  Prince Albert was not satisfied to guide the whole affair only from above; he was, in the fullest sense of the word, the soul of everything.  Even his bitterest enemies, with unusual unreserve, acknowledged the completeness of the execution of the scheme.”

So far from there being a loss upon the undertaking there was actually half a million of profit.  The proceeds were devoted to securing ground at South Kensington upon which a great National Institute might be built.  This undertaking (the purchase of the ground) was not carried through without great difficulty and anxiety.  The Queen’s sympathy and encouragement were, as always, of the greatest help to her husband, and he quoted a verse from a German song, to illustrate how much he felt and appreciated it: