THE QUEEN RECEIVING THE BURMESE EMBASSY.
In June the Queen had to mourn the loss of a highly trusted old family friend, Dr. Norman Macleod of Glasgow. He had been long ailing, and when at Balmoral, in May, the Queen at her last interview with him was so struck with his physical weakness that she insisted on his being seated whilst he was in her presence. Macleod’s influence as a courtier was built up partly on his ability as an eloquent pulpit orator, and his tact as a kindly, genial, shrewd, tolerant man of the world. He had genuine goodness of heart, and he had not only the supple diplomatic skill of the Celt, but the Celt’s inborn and honest love and reverence for rank and dignities. It was quite a mistake to suppose that his “flunkeyism” made him a persona grata at Court. On the contrary, he was in the unique position of being a Royal Chaplain on whom the Queen could not confer any favour or dignity. She could not give him a richer living in the Church than the one he had obtained without her patronage, and as a Presbyterian clergyman he could never be suspected of intriguing for hierarchical rank when he approached the Sovereign. His disinterestedness, too, was well known, for it was to Macleod’s credit that during his long connection with the Court, though he was frequently entrusted with missions concerning matters of delicate family business, he never even asked for a favour either for himself or any of his relatives. When the vague rumour of his death reached the Queen she addressed the following letter to Dr. Macleod’s brother:—
“Balmoral, June 17, 1872.
“The Queen hardly knows how to begin a letter to Mr. Donald Macleod, so deep and strong are her feelings on this most sad and most painful occasion, for words are all too weak to say what she feels, and what all must feel who ever knew his beloved, excellent, and highly-gifted brother, Dr. Norman Macleod.
“First of all to his family—his venerable, loved, and honoured mother, his wife and large family of children—the loss of the good man is irreparable and overwhelming! But it is an irreparable public loss, and the Queen feels this deeply. To herself, personally, the loss of dear Dr. Macleod is a very great one; he was so kind, and on all occasions showed her such warm sympathy, and in the early days of her great sorrow gave the Queen so much comfort whenever she saw him, that she always looked forward eagerly to those occasions when she saw him here; and she cannot realise the idea that in this world she is never to see his kind face and listen to those admirable discourses which did every one good, and to his charming conversation again.
“The Queen is gratified that she was able to see him this last time, and to have had some lengthened conversation with him, when he dwelt much on that future world to which he now belongs. He was sadly depressed and suffering, but still so near a termination of his career of intense usefulness and loving-kindness never struck her or any of us as likely, and the Queen was terribly shocked on learning the sad news. All her children, present and absent, deeply mourn his loss. The Queen would be very grateful for all the details which Mr. D. Macleod can give her of the last moments and illness of her dear friend.
“Pray say everything kind and sympathising to their venerable mother, to Mrs. N. Macleod and all the family, and she asks him to accept himself of her true heartfelt sympathy.”
The letter—one of the most remarkable ever written by a sovereign to and of a subject—is worth quoting, not only on account of its biographical interest, but as a model of sincerity, tenderness, and good taste exhibited in an order of composition usually disfigured by artificiality both of sentiment and style.
The lions of the London season of 1872 were two foreign embassies—one from Japan and one from Burma. The Japanese were Envoys from a great Asiatic monarch, and were nobles of the first rank specially chosen to represent their Sovereign. Their refined manner, shrewd observations, quick intelligence, and mastery over the English tongue, rendered them general favourites. The so-called “Ambassadors” from Burma came to England on a different footing, and some authorities on Eastern affairs complained that they received an amount of attention and hospitality far beyond their deserts or their importance. It was said that they were officials chosen because of their low rank for the purpose of publicly slighting England; that they were sent to this country in order to establish a precedent for ignoring the Indian Viceroy, and enabling the King of Burma to treat with the Queen of England as a Peer. The Indian Viceroys had certainly been averse from permitting the Burmese Court to form direct diplomatic relations with European Courts; but in the East, Missions of Compliment are sometimes sent from Sovereigns to each other, and such Missions do not necessarily engage in diplomatic business. In this case the Burmese King Mindohn, by far the ablest ruler of the Alompra dynasty, had accepted the arrangement by which the diplomatic relations of Burma and the British Empire were carried on through an agent of the Indian Viceroy at Mandalay.[47] Indeed, one of the chief diplomatic difficulties between the two Governments—the great “Shoe Question,” as it was called—was not one capable of direct discussion between the Courts of St. James’s and Mandalay.[48] As to the rank of the Burmese Envoy, misconceptions on that point arose because Englishmen failed to understand that in Burma there was no such thing as hereditary rank outside the royal family of Alompra, the hunter king. Rank was conferred solely by official position, and the head of the Burmese Mission was a high official of the first grade, who was really President of the Hloht or Council of State. Under King Theebaw, who succeeded Mindohn, he became better known as the Kin-Woon Mingyee, and represented the party of peace and order at Mandalay with great ability and honesty of purpose. The Queen was rather better informed as to the antecedents of these distinguished visitors, and accordingly on Friday, the 21st of June, she received them at Windsor Castle. They brought with them many costly presents to her Majesty, of which an exceptionally magnificent bracelet, made of seven pounds of solid gold, was much talked about at the time. They also delivered a letter from the King, which began, “From His Great, Glorious, and Most Excellent Majesty, King of the Rising Sun, who reigns over Burma, to Her Most Glorious and Excellent Majesty Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland.” After her Majesty had received the presents, and made her acknowledgments through Major MacMahon, late Political Agent at Mandalay, the Embassy withdrew, and returned to London.