THE “ALABAMA” CLAIMS.
Thanksgiving Day--The Procession--Behaviour of the Crowd--Scene
in St. Paul’s--Decorations and Illuminations--Letter from Her
Majesty--Attack on the Queen--John Brown--The Queen’s Speech--The
_Alabama_ Claims--The “Consequential Damages”--Living in a Blaze
of Apology--Story of the “Indirect Claims”--The Arbitrators’
Award--Sir Alexander Cockburn’s Judgment--Passing of the Ballot
Act--The Scottish Education Act--The Licensing Bill--Public Health
Bill--Coal Mines Regulation Bill--The Army Bill--Admiralty
Reforms--Ministerial Defeat on Local Taxation--Starting of the
Home Government Association in Dublin--Assassination of Lord
Mayo--Stanley’s Discovery of Livingstone--Dr. Livingstone’s
Interview with the Queen--Her Majesty’s Gift to Mr. Stanley--Death
of Dr. Norman Macleod--The Japanese Embassy--The Burmese
Mission--Her Majesty at Holyrood Palace--Death of Her Half-Sister.
During the first weeks of 1872 the convalescence of the Heir Apparent
seemed to obscure all other topics of political interest. The
anti-monarchical agitation, which Sir Charles Dilke had fomented, not
only by his votes in Parliament, but by his speeches in the country,
suddenly subsided, showing that the sentiment of affectionate regard
which had linked the Crown and the nation together in the past, was not
to be destroyed by political factions who were trading on the temporary
and local estrangement of the Queen from her subjects in the capital.
Faction, indeed, was for the time silenced throughout the land, and the
Queen soon saw that it was the universal desire of the nation that the
recovery of the Prince, which had saved the country from much anxiety
as to its future under a Regency, should be celebrated by a solemn
public function. It was therefore announced in the middle of January
that the Queen would proceed in State to St. Paul’s Cathedral on as
early a day as could be fixed after the 20th of February, to return
thanks for the recovery of her son. Ultimately Tuesday, the 27th of
February, was fixed for the ceremony.
The day was clear and bright, though cold, and a wintry sun shone on
the splendid pageant, for which elaborate preparations had been made
many days before. The demand for tickets to view the spectacle was
unprecedented. Carriages were hired at fabulous prices, and writing on
the morning of the ceremony to his daughter-in-law, Lord Shaftesbury
tells her that when he had ordered a brougham on the previous day at
his job-master’s he was told “that every vehicle had been pre-engaged
for weeks. Thoroughfares like St. James’s Street were impassable,
because for two days before the event they were blocked by crowds who
had come to see the preparations.”[34] In fact, as Bishop Wilberforce
says in a passage in his Diary, London was “quite wild on Thanksgiving
Day.”[35] By general desire the day was celebrated as a national
holiday. As for the crowds in the streets along the line of _route_,
they were said to number from a million to a million and a quarter of
spectators, and the decorations far surpassed any similar display ever
seen in London. The procession started from Buckingham Palace at five
minutes past twelve o’clock, led by the carriages of the Speaker, the
Lord Chancellor, and the Duke of Cambridge, and was composed of nine
royal carriages, in the last of which the Queen was seen accompanied
by the Prince and Princess of Wales. Her Majesty seemed to be in good
health, and she looked supremely happy. The Prince was pale and rather
haggard, but his bright and happy nature shone through a countenance
radiant with gratitude, and he kept bowing all along the way to the
multitudes who cheered him. The hearty reciprocal feeling between the
Queen, the Prince, and the populace, which the shouts of such a vast
crowd expressed, rendered the scene a magnificent demonstration of
national loyalty to a popular Sovereign. At Temple Bar the Queen was
met by the Lord Mayor and municipal dignitaries of the City of London,
arrayed in their robes, and mounted on white horses. Having alighted,
the Lord Mayor delivered to and received back from the Queen the City
sword, according to the usual custom. But, contrary to precedent and to
general expectation, the gates of Temple Bar were not closed against
the Queen, so that it was unnecessary to present her with the
[Illustration: THANKSGIVING DAY: ST. PAUL’S ILLUMINATED.]
keys. The Lord Mayor and his colleagues having re-mounted their
steeds, preceded the Royal procession to St. Paul’s. Precisely at one
o’clock the Queen entered the Cathedral through the pavilion erected
upon the steps. Its approach was covered with crimson cloth, and it was
ornamented with the royal arms and with the escutcheon of the Prince of
Wales. On it there was the inscription “I was glad when they said unto
me, We will go into the house of the Lord.” Within the Cathedral the
scene was imposing and impressive, for all that was exalted in station,
high in official position, or eminent by reason of genius, talent, and
public services was represented in the congregation of 13,000 persons.
Representatives of the Court, the Princes of India, the Colonies, the
Houses of Parliament, the Episcopate, the Judges, the Lords-Lieutenant,
and the municipal authorities of the provincial towns, were especially
prominent. The Queen was received at the Cathedral by the Bishop of
[Illustration: THE THANKSGIVING SERVICE IN ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL.]
London and the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s, and by the officers of
her household, who were already waiting for her. With the Prince of
Wales on her right hand and the Princess of Wales on her left, the
Queen, leaning on the Prince’s arm, walked up the nave in a procession
which was marshalled by the Lancaster and Somerset Heralds. The special
service began at one o’clock with the _Te Deum_, which was arranged by
Mr. Goss for the occasion, and sung by a choir of two hundred and fifty
voices. The voice of the Archbishop of Canterbury was inaudible, but
the choral part of the ritual was listened to reverently. The words
of special thanksgiving were:--“O Father of Mercies and God of all
Comfort, we thank Thee that Thou hast heard the prayers of this nation
in the day of our trial. We praise and magnify Thy glorious name for
that Thou hast raised Thy servant, Albert Edward Prince of Wales, from
the bed of sickness. Thou castest down and Thou liftest up, and health
and strength are Thy gifts; we pray Thee to perfect the recovery of Thy
servant, and to crown him day by day with more abundant blessings, both
for body and soul, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” Here there
was a long pause, during which the dead silence of that vast hushed
congregation was described by those present as being almost painful to
the ear. Archbishop Tait having pronounced the benediction delivered
a sermon which was striking for its brevity and its simple unadorned
eloquence. He took for his text the words “Every one members one of
another,” and illustrated in a few apt sentences the Divine origin of
family life and of the State and of the Church, which, he said, was but
the family and the State in relation to God. The illness of the Prince
had given a fresh meaning to this conception. Hence “such a day,”
observed the Archbishop in his concluding sentence, “makes us feel
truly that we are all members one of another.” The religious ceremony
ended at two o’clock, and the Royal procession returned to Buckingham
Palace amid thunders of artillery from the guns of the Tower and the
Park.
With one exception the decorations were successful. That
exception--which was noted as curious at the time by the Queen--was
at Ludgate Circus, where the triumphal arch, which ought to have been
one of the grandest in the metropolis was, by reason of backward
preparation, almost a failure. It was not till the procession was
nearly within sight that the scaffoldings were taken down, and the
scene of confusion as the distracted workmen removed the poles,
delighted the mob amazingly.[36] Unfortunately in the hurry, so much
damage was done to the gorgeous gold mouldings of the arch, that it
presented the appearance of an ancient but freshly gilded ruin. As for
the illuminations at night, they were not general--probably because
many people did not regard a religious thanksgiving day as a fit
occasion for illuminating. The centres of attraction were the dome and
west front of St. Paul’s, the dome being picked out by a treble row
of coloured ship’s lanterns. The cathedral itself stood out in lurid
splendour when transient shafts of lime-light, and the fitful glow
of the red light on the gilded ball fell on the building. Two days
after the ceremony the following letter was published in the _London
Gazette_:--
“Buckingham Palace, February 29, 1872.
“The Queen is anxious, as on a previous occasion, to express publicly
her _own_ personal _very deep_ sense of the reception she and her dear
children met with on Tuesday, February 27th, from millions of her
subjects, on her way to and from St. Paul’s.
“Words are too weak for the Queen to say how very deeply touched
and gratified she has been by the immense enthusiasm and affection
exhibited towards her dear son and herself, from the highest down to
the lowest, on the long progress through the Capital, and she would
earnestly wish to convey her warmest and most heartfelt thanks to the
whole nation for this great demonstration of loyalty.
“The Queen, as well as her son and her dear daughter-in-law, felt that
the whole nation joined with them in thanking God for sparing the
beloved Prince of Wales’s life.
“The remembrance of this day and of the remarkable order maintained
throughout, will for ever be affectionately remembered by the Queen and
her family.”
On the very day on which this letter was dated a strange attack was
made on the Queen. When she returned from her afternoon drive in the
Park, she passed along by Buckingham Palace wall, and drove to the gate
at which she usually alighted. The carriage had hardly halted when a
lad rushed to its left side, and bending forward presented a pistol
at the Queen, while he flourished a petition in his hand. He then
rushed round the carriage and threw himself into a similar attitude
on the other side. The Queen remained calm and unmoved, and the boy’s
pistol was taken from him, when it was discovered that it was unloaded.
The petition was a poor scrawl, demanding the release of the Fenian
prisoners, and the lad gave the name of Arthur O’Connor, and stated his
age to be seventeen.[37]
When Parliament assembled in 1872 Mr. Gladstone found himself
confronted by an Opposition which had been rendered almost insolently
aggressive by their triumphs at the bye-elections. He found himself
supported by a majority, each section of which had its special
grievance against him. And if he looked beyond Parliament for support
he might have seen that a subtle popular suspicion was growing up round
his name which was fast neutralising the magic of his personality.
It was said, alike by friends and foes, that an overweening love for
personal power, and a passion for exercising personal authority over
others, had become the guiding motives of his life, and the inspiring
ideas of his policy. Had this been true, it is hardly likely that the
Prime Minister would have identified himself with legislation which
had set the vested interests, and the fanatical sectaries up in arms
against him. But the important point was that, whether true or false,
the calumny was believed, and the Queen, like many other careful
observers, saw the Ministry growing weaker and weaker every day, whilst
Mr. Gladstone and his colleagues were themselves under the delusion
that every day increased their popularity. And yet, as if to justify
the maxim that in politics it is the unexpected that happens, the year
was not fruitful in crises or in sensational scenes. Mr. Disraeli
held his followers in check, and the Session was a business-like one,
which, when it ended, left the Government stronger than could have been
anticipated.
The Parliamentary year was opened on the 6th of February, the Queen’s
Speech being read by Commission. It promised a Ballot Bill, and Bills
for organising Education in Scotland, for regulating Mines, and for
improving the Licensing System. The passage in the Speech to which,
however, all eyes turned was the one dealing with the _Alabama_ Claims.
On this subject the country had suddenly become profoundly agitated,
and from an observation in Bishop Wilberforce’s Diary we gather that
the Queen, shared the popular feeling of the hour.[38] After the nation
had congratulated itself on discovering a diplomatic solution of its
difficulties with the American Republic, it was amazed to find that the
Americans were endeavouring to seize by chicane what they had failed
to gain by diplomacy. When they forwarded the case which they meant
to submit to Arbitration, it was discovered that they had included in
it not only a claim for the actual damage done to American commerce
by the Confederate cruisers, but also the claims for the indirect or
“consequential damages” which Mr. Sumner had put forward, and which
the British Commissioners understood were abandoned. The sum asked
under this head would have covered half the cost of the whole Civil
War. It was therefore the clear opinion of the Queen that England could
not consent to go into Arbitration till this preposterous demand was
withdrawn. Lord Granville, on the other hand, though he inclined to
this opinion, was slow to reply to a demand which he was in honour
bound to promptly repel. He was chiefly concerned about saving the
Washington Treaty, and he therefore sent to the American Government a
mild letter requesting the withdrawal of the “indirect claims” in terms
so deferentially conciliatory, that had he been dealing with a less
pacific Power his despatch would probably have been answered with the
cynical
[Illustration: GENEVA.]
_brusquerie_ that marked Von Bismarck’s dealings with him. But the
country was not as meek as the Minister. There was an outburst of
popular anger against the Americans for the “sharp practice” which
sullied their statement of claim, and Mr. Gladstone soon saw that to
go into Arbitration before the demand for “consequential damages” was
withdrawn would lead to his expulsion from office. His declarations in
Parliament on the subject thenceforth showed that he meant to repudiate
the American interpretation of the Treaty under which the “indirect
claims” had been dragged into the American case, and he spoke with the
high spirit of a statesman rejecting a humiliating demand for tribute
greater than conquest itself could extort. The Opposition in both
Houses, on the whole, gave the Government generous support in this
emergency, though Mr. Disraeli--referring to the torrent of Ministerial
oratory which had deluged the recess--could not refrain in his comment
on the Queen’s Speech from deriding the Cabinet for having lately lived
“in a blaze of apology.”
The story of the controversy on the “indirect claims” may here be told.
The United States, in extremely conciliatory despatches, insisted on
including these claims in their case. They argued that it was for the
arbitrators at Geneva to say whether they were or were not admissible
under the Treaty. They rested their contention on an ambiguous phrase
which Lord Ripon and Sir Stafford Northcote had unfortunately permitted
to pass unconnected into the Treaty. The first Article of that
instrument described its object to be that of removing and adjusting
“all complaints and claims,” &c., “_growing out_ of acts committed by
the said vessels, and _generically known as the ‘Alabama’ Claims_.”
This certainly gave the Americans a plausible excuse for demanding
“consequential” as well as direct damages. On the other side, the
English Government argued that all the concessions made by the British
Commissioners at Washington were made on the understanding that the
“indirect claims” were not included in the Treaty; that in all their
correspondence with the Washington Department of State no claims save
direct claims were ever “generically” known as the _Alabama Claims_;
and, lastly, that their interpretation was publicly expressed and well
known to the United States Government, people, and Minister at the
Court of St. James’s, and was never objected to by either of them. It
would, however, have been easy to put the point beyond dispute when
the Treaty was drawn up by specifically barring all indirect claims.
When Lord Ripon and Sir Stafford. Northcote failed to do that they were
guilty of negligence which, if brought home to the diplomatists of
either Russia or Germany, would have procured for them, not rewards and
honours, but punishment and degradation. Fortunately the dispute ended
happily. Lord Granville for once acted with the firmness becoming the
representative of a great nation. When the arbitrators met at Geneva,
the representatives of England persistently refused to take part in the
proceedings till the “indirect claims” were withdrawn. The arbitrators
then adroitly extricated the agents of the Washington Government from
a false position. They met and declared that, without reference to
the scope of the Treaty or to the merits of the dispute as to its
interpretation, which England refused to discuss before them, they
were agreed that “indirect claims” could never, on general principles
of international law, be a tenable ground for an award of damages in
international disputes.
The Americans then withdrew the obnoxious part of their “case,” and
the arbitrators awarded to the United States £3,229,000 damages
against England for the depredations committed by three out of the ten
Confederate cruisers which, it was alleged, the British Government had
negligently permitted to escape from British ports. The American claim
for naval expenses incurred in chasing these cruisers was, however,
rejected, because the arbitrators held that it could not be practically
distinguished from the general cost of the war. The Lord Chief Justice
of England--one of the members of the Tribunal--concurred in the
judgment as regards the _Alabama_. He differed from all his colleagues
in regard to the _Florida_, and he and the Brazilian arbitrator
differed from the majority as to the case of the _Shenandoah_.[39] The
failure of the English Government to seize the _Florida_ and _Alabama_,
when they put into British ports after they had made their escape, was
evidently the fact which bore most strongly against England in the
opinion of the Geneva Tribunal. The American claims for damages in
respect of the _Georgia_, _Chickamauga_, _Nashville_, _Retribution_,
_Sumter_, and _Tallahassee_, were rejected. On the whole, public
opinion on both sides of the Atlantic, though not quite satisfied with
the verdict, allowed that there had been a fair fight and a fair trial.
Lord Chief Justice Cockburn’s dissenting judgment, however, expressed
the feeling of the English people, which was this. “Let us admit,” they
said, “the _ex post facto_ rule making neutrals liable for damages
if they do not exercise ‘due diligence’--the ‘dueness of diligence’
to be always proportionate to the mischief the vessels might do--in
preventing the escape of cruisers, and in re-capturing them when they
get the chance. English officials were, however, not aware that, when
these cruisers escaped and when on re-entering British ports they were
not detained, international law demanded from them more ‘dueness’ of
diligence than they had exercised or been taught to exercise. Hence it
surely was wrong to give damages for their unconscious negligence, just
as if their negligence had been conscious.” This argument, indeed, Sir
Alexander Cockburn pressed to the point of cutting down to zero the
claim for damages in respect of the _Shenandoah_ and _Florida_.
One of the most important Government measures of the year was the
Ballot Act. But the opposition to it was marked by no novelty of
argument, and it need only be said about it here that it was passed,
the Lords not venturing to reject it a second time.[40] The Scottish
Education Bill, which also passed, established a School Board system
of public instruction all over Scotland far in advance of that
which England had been able to obtain. A Licensing Bill of a mildly
regulative character was carried, the publicans grudgingly accepting it
as a compromise, while the Temperance Party attacked it as miserably
ineffective.[41] Mr. Stansfeld’s Public Health Bill, defining the
authority which must in future be responsible for local sanitation, and
embodying the principle that rates should be divided between the State
and the locality was so adroitly managed by Mr. Stansfeld, that at last
Mr. Disraeli supported the Government in carrying it. Another useful
measure regulating the working of Coal Mines was carried in spite
of many protests against interfering with private contracts between
masters and servants, and many attempts on the part of the vested
interests who were supported by the bulk of the Tory Party, to render
the Bill inoperative. Among other things it prohibited the employment
of women underground, and it made mine-owners responsible for the
results of preventible mining accidents.
Mr. Cardwell’s Army Bill was received with unlocked for favour. It
attempted to adapt the territorial system of Prussia to the exigencies
of military service in England. The nine existing military divisions
were subdivided into sixty-six military districts. In each of these
a small army or brigade was formed, consisting of two battalions of
Regulars, to which were linked the local Militia and Volunteers. One
of the regular battalions was to be told off for foreign service, and
its “waste” supplied by drafts from the territorial _depôt_. The main
objection to the scheme urged by Conservative officers was that it
destroyed the family life of the old regiments--that it even destroyed
their identity by substituting local titles for the numbers which their
prowess in war had in many cases made historic. According to this
scheme the country would have an Army of 446,000 men, of whom 146,000
were available for service abroad. The evidence given before the
Commission which reported on the wreck of the _Megæra_, concentrated
attention on Admiralty Reform. On the whole, the country gave Mr.
Childers credit for having brought order into that chaotic department.
Before he came to power the various branches of the Admiralty had
little or no connection with each other, and when a blunder was made
by conflicting authority or contradictory orders, nobody could be
made responsible. Mr. Childers set responsible officers at the head
of each department, and made excellent arrangements for their mutual
co-operation. But the weak point of his scheme was that he as First
Lord was the real _nexus_ which bound the whole organisation together.
The system accordingly broke down when his health gave way, for Mr.
Lushington, who was in a sense the Grand Vizier of the First Lord,
was a civilian comparatively new to the department, and unable to act
as an efficient substitute for Mr. Childers.[42] Mr. Goschen met the
difficulty, not by appointing a naval expert as his second in command,
but by casting responsibility for all orders on three officials--a
Naval Secretary who was to be responsible for orders concerning the
_personnel_, a Controller who was to be responsible for those relating
to the _matériel_, and a Permanent Secretary who was to be responsible
for those affecting finance and civil business. To secure unity of work
the Board of Admiralty was to meet daily for consultation, and in the
First Lord’s absence the supreme authority was to pass to the First
Naval Lord of the Admiralty.
[Illustration: DR. NORMAN MACLEOD.
(_From a Photograph by Elliott and Fry._)]
In spite of a serious defeat on Sir Massey Lopes’ motion on the
question of Local Taxation,[43] a narrow escape from defeat on
the Collier scandal, and a clever mocking attack by Mr. Disraeli
at Manchester in the spring on their sensational policy and their
ambiguous utterances on the proposals of their extreme supporters,
the Ministers were stronger in Parliament when the Session ended
than when it began. Mr. Lowe’s Budget further helped the credit of
the Government, for such was the elasticity of the revenue that
it foreshadowed a surplus of £3,000,000, and enabled him to remit
the twopenny Income Tax which he had imposed in 1871.[44] Ireland,
however, was as usual a source of anxiety to the Cabinet. The Tories
and Orangemen, indignant at the Disestablishment of the Church, had
coalesced with the more moderate Repealers, and set on foot the Home
Government Association,[45] from which the Home Rule Party under the
leadership of Mr. Isaac Butt sprang. Whenever the Ballot Act was
passed, Home Rule candidates began to carry the Irish bye-elections
against the Ministerialists--in fact, it was apparent to shrewd
observers that the destruction of the Liberal Party in Ireland was
now only a matter of time. Earl Russell was probably of this opinion
when, in August, he startled the town by publishing a letter in the
_Times_ virtually conceding the principle of Home Rule in order to
lighten the burden of Imperial legislation with which Parliament was
overweighted.[46]
As for the Opposition, their councils were divided. Lord Salisbury
was averse from promising any programme. Mr. Disraeli seemed afraid
to suggest one that went beyond sanitary reform. Yet the Tories had
completely broken the absolute power of Mr. Gladstone in the country,
and were still, as the Municipal Elections in November showed, a
growing party. The causes which contributed to a reaction in their
favour in 1871 were still at work. Mr. Gladstone’s opposition to Sir
Massey Lopes’ motion on rating, and the sudden appearance of Trades
Unionism among the agricultural labourers gave Conservatism hosts of
fresh recruits, for the squires and the farmers naturally rallied to
the Party whose leaders stood forth as champions of the threatened
interests.
The attempt of O’Connor on the Queen’s life was not the only crime of
the kind that darkened the year. On the 8th of February Lord Mayo,
the Viceroy of India, was stabbed to death by a Mahommedan convict at
Port Blair, the port of the penal settlement on the Andaman Islands,
to which Lord Mayo was paying a visit of inspection. The assassin was
a sullen, brooding fanatic who had been transported for killing a
relative with whom he had a “blood feud.” The Queen was as much shocked
as the country by the event, for by this time it was universally
recognised that Lord Mayo was one of the most competent Viceroys who
had ever ruled India. His intuitive insight into difficulties, his
shrewd perception of character, his frank resoluteness of action,
his clearness and decision of purpose, and his dignified and stately
bearing rendered Lord Mayo an ideal viceroy. His great work consisted
in cementing an alliance with the Afghan Ameer, in imposing an
income-tax to rehabilitate the finances of India, and suppressing a
rebellious movement among the Wahabee fanatics.
Early in May telegrams were received in London announcing that Dr.
Livingstone, the African explorer, as to whose safety much anxiety had
been felt, had been discovered by Mr. Stanley, a special correspondent
on the staff of the _New York Herald_, who had been despatched by
Mr. J. Gordon Bennett, the proprietor of that journal, to look for
the missing traveller. The Queen received these tidings with the
deepest gratification, not unmingled with regret that the honour of
the discovery should pass to an American expedition. Her interest
in Livingstone, and in his last efforts to discover the sources of
the Nile, was well known--indeed, when in England the explorer had a
private interview with her Majesty, of which an account is given in Mr.
Blaikie’s “Personal Life of Dr. Livingstone.” “She [the Queen] sent
for Livingstone,” writes Mr. Blaikie, “who attended her Majesty at the
Palace without ceremony, in his black coat and blue trousers and his
cap surrounded with a stripe of gold lace. This was his usual attire,
and the cap had now become the appropriate distinction of one of her
Majesty’s Consuls--an official position to which the traveller attaches
great importance as giving him consequence in the eyes of natives and
authority over the members of the expedition. The Queen conversed
with him affably for half-an-hour on the subject of his travels. Dr.
Livingstone told her Majesty that he would now be able to say to the
natives that he had seen his chief, his not having done so before
having been a constant subject of surprise to the children of the
African wilderness. He mentioned to her Majesty also that the people
were in the habit of inquiring whether his chief were wealthy, and when
he answered them that she was very wealthy they would ask how many cows
she had got, a question at which the Queen laughed very heartily.” Mr.
Stanley had found Livingstone at Ujiji near Lake Tanganyika, and on
his way back to Zanzibar he met the English Expedition, which had been
despatched by the Royal Geographical Society, carrying succour to the
explorer. As Livingstone’s orders were to refuse this tardy aid, the
chiefs of the British Expedition had to return. Some people were at
first sceptical as to the story told by Mr. Stanley, but doubts were
set at rest on the 27th of August, when Lord Granville sent to Mr.
Stanley a gold snuff-box set with diamonds as a gift from the Queen.
Accompanying the present was the following letter:--
“I have great satisfaction in conveying to you, by command of
the Queen, her Majesty’s high appreciation of the prudence and
zeal which you have displayed in opening a communication with Dr.
Livingstone, and relieving her Majesty from the anxiety which, in
common with her subjects, she had felt in regard to the fate of
that distinguished traveller. The Queen desires me to express her
thanks for the service you have thus rendered, together with her
Majesty’s congratulations on your having so successfully carried
out the mission which you so fearlessly undertook. Her Majesty
also desires me to request your acceptance of the memorial which
accompanies this letter.”
[Illustration: 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.
On the 1st of July the Queen, accompanied by the Duke of Edinburgh,
Princess Louise, Princess Beatrice, and Prince Leopold visited the
National Memorial erected in Hyde Park to the memory of the late Prince
Consort. This was a strictly private visit, the monument being at the
time incomplete.
Between the 15th and 20th of August the Queen broke her journey to
Balmoral, and resided at Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh, for a few days.
Though her visit was private, she was so gratified with the reception
she everywhere received that she caused Viscount Halifax to address the
following letter to the Lord Provost of Edinburgh:--
“DEAR LORD PROVOST,--It is not the practice unless the Queen
has visited any city or town in a public manner, to address any
official communication to the chief magistrate or authority of
the place. I am commanded, however, by her Majesty to convey
to you in a less formal manner the expression of her Majesty’s
gratification at the manner in which she was received by the people
of Edinburgh in whatever part of this city and neighbourhood her
Majesty appeared. Her Majesty has felt this the more because, as
her Majesty’s visit was so strictly private, it was so evidently
the expression of their national feeling of loyalty. Her Majesty
was also very much pleased with the striking effect produced by
lighting up the park and the old chapel.”
The death of the amiable and accomplished Princess Feodore of
Hohenlohe-Langenburg on the 23rd of September plunged the Queen into
deep despondency. The Princess was half-sister to her Majesty, and
the tie that bound them together through life had been close and
affectionate. “All sympathise with you,” wrote the Princess Louis to
the Queen when she heard of her mother’s bereavement, “and feel what a
loss to you darling aunt must be, how great the gap in your life, how
painful the absence of that sympathy and love which united her life and
yours so closely.”