Chapter 95
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 95
Chapter Title: The Guardian of Ireland
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Victoria awoke early, her heart swelling with anticipation.
Until now, her travels had been confined to the outskirts of London. But this time, she was not just leaving the city; she was journeying all the way to Ireland.
Her first real trip… Strictly speaking, it wasn't a vacation, but she couldn't help the flutter of excitement.
Of course, if the Great Famine had already begun, she wouldn't be entertaining such childish thoughts. But for now, they were on their way to prevent it.
If they succeeded in averting the foretold disaster, no one would be able to deny Killian's contribution, and her own standing, having played a significant role in shifting public opinion, would be further solidified.
The tide was turning in their favor.
Therefore, to make perfect use of this unparalleled opportunity, thorough preparation was essential.
Typically, a visit from the monarch of the British Empire was not merely a matter of a high-ranking person arriving.
For months, countless people would meet to finalize every last detail.
Then, the decisions would be relayed to the local authorities, and once all preparations were complete on their end, inspectors would be dispatched once more.
Only after this entire process confirmed that local preparations were flawless could the royal carriage finally depart from the palace.
Usually, this complex process was decided by Parliament, the government, and royal officials putting their heads together, but this time, she had no intention of leaving it solely to them.
If she delegated the task and stood idly by, the result would be a schedule that was nothing more than a perfunctory ceremony.
Take the meeting from two days ago, for example.
“It is wonderful that Your Majesty is visiting Ireland. But you’re only visiting Cove in County Cork? Who planned this itinerary?”
“Minister, this was done with the local situation in mind…”
“Ah, so it was the Chief Secretary who drew up this schedule. And your reason for doing so is to consider the local situation?”
The meeting to discuss the Queen's visit to Ireland was attended by a host of distinguished figures: the Lord Chamberlain, Viscount George West; the man they called the Chief Secretary for Ireland but was in effect its governor-general, the Earl of St Germans, Edward Eliot; the Whig leader, Viscount Melbourne; and the Conservative Prime Minister, Robert Peel.
Also present were Daniel O'Connell, a name inseparable from Irish affairs, and Killian Gore.
With such prominent individuals gathered, a swift consensus was unlikely.
Aside from Viscount Melbourne, nearly everyone belonged to the Conservative Party, but even the Conservatives were not a monolithic entity.
“We considered not only the local circumstances but also the practical aspects. Cove, where Your Majesty is scheduled to visit, has already been set to be renamed Queenstown. If Your Majesty were to tour the area and listen to the citizens, wouldn't that make for a wonderful picture?”
“So you’re saying you intend to perform a mere formality?”
“It is not a formality. It will have a real effect.”
“Effect? Do you have any idea how high the expectations of the Irish people are right now? ‘Our beautiful Queen is finally coming to hear our voices.’ ‘If she sees for herself how difficult things are in Ireland, perhaps a new solution will emerge.’ They are waiting for Your Majesty’s visit with such hopes in their hearts, and you say she will just glance at Cove and leave? Does that make any sense?”
“Then, in addition to Cove, we could include Dublin…”
Killian clicked his tongue softly.
“So in the end, you mean to plan a tour of only the affluent and well-maintained areas.”
“No… It can’t be helped. Even when Her Majesty tours London, the route is planned to pass primarily through wealthy districts. I was simply following established precedent.”
The Chief Secretary’s feeling of being wronged was, in a way, understandable.
It was an unwritten tradition for the royal procession to travel through pleasant areas and see only pleasant things to maintain its dignity.
There was even a precedent where a long wall was erected to hide a street frequented by the poor from the view of a passing royal carriage. That said it all.
But just as Killian had said, when Victoria first heard the itinerary, she felt a strong sense of revulsion.
She hadn't understood what it implied when she first received the rough schedule, but now she knew for certain.
It meant she was to go, act as a figurehead, and exist as nothing more than a pretty flower in the background.
She knew the monarchy was becoming an increasingly symbolic institution, but that didn't make being treated this way any more pleasant.
“Prime Minister, to what extent can my own wishes be reflected in the planning of the Ireland itinerary?”
“The final decision, of course, rests with Your Majesty. Parliament and the government merely plan the schedule on your behalf. However, as these matters are decided after careful deliberation by the best experts, they are usually approved as is.”
“And yet, it seems to me that when it comes to the matter of Ireland, there can be no greater expert than the Foreign Secretary. Am I mistaken?”
“I am of the same opinion.”
“Then we must heed the expert’s opinion. Minister, if you cannot agree with the Chief Secretary’s proposal, could you present an alternative?”
The Chief Secretary for Ireland, the Earl of St Germans, was from Southwest England and had hardly ever been to Ireland.
The Queen heeding Killian’s voice wasn't a matter of taking sides; it was simply the most logical course of action.
Indeed, neither the Prime Minister, the opposition leader Viscount Melbourne, nor even the Earl of St Germans himself raised any objections, simply bowing their heads.
“Your Majesty. This visit is an opportunity to show that Ireland is truly a part of the British Empire. It must not, under any circumstances, feel like a mere formality. This era is different from the past. While many people still blindly trust what those in power say, the number of educated intellectuals is growing by the year. Approaching this in the old way will only provoke resentment.”
“I share the Minister’s sentiment. After this visit to Ireland, were we not also planning to visit Scotland to demonstrate the strong bonds of the United Kingdom? A great deal of effort and a significant budget have been allocated for this. Please devise a plan that will yield the maximum results.”
“I understand. In that case, I will discuss the matter with Mr. Daniel O'Connell to draft an initial plan. I will then seek the approval of the Chief Secretary and the Prime Minister before presenting the final report to Your Majesty. Are there any objections?”
With the Queen having laid down the law so firmly, objections were impossible.
The Chief Secretary and the Lord Chamberlain remained silent, while the Prime Minister actively sided with Killian, expressing his approval.
“I agree as well! My apologies to the Earl of St Germans, but in Ireland, there are so many who revere Minister Killian that they would welcome him even if he were appointed Governor-General. And the only person here who understands Ireland as well as the Minister is likely Representative Daniel O'Connell. Therefore, it seems best that the two of them coordinate their views to create the plan.”
It felt like the Prime Minister had been siding with Killian an unusual amount lately.
Did Killian have some leverage over him, or was he feeling guilty about something?
Whatever the case, seeing Killian hold his own and speak his mind among such influential figures made her feel a swell of pride.
Suddenly, a conversation she once had with her uncle, the king who had passed the throne to her, flashed through her mind.
—He is exceptionally capable, but as he is of Irish blood, his limits are clear.
You may use him as a piece that moves for you, but in chess terms, he would be a bishop at best.
Do not grow too attached; think only of how to use him.
She had been uncertain even then, but in the presence of the king she respected, she hadn't dared to openly contradict him.
But now, even if the late king were still alive, she could say it with certainty.
*‘I'm sorry, but it seems my eye for talent is far better than yours.’*
* * *
The Famine Inquiry Commission and the Queen's visit to Ireland.
Both were unprecedented and exceptional matters, but after heated debate, everything was decided with relatively little trouble.
One might think this meant only Ireland was receiving attention, but measures had been taken in advance to prevent such talk.
England and Wales were placated by the Queen's active intervention in the once-raucous opium issue and her efforts to listen to the public's anxieties.
As for Scotland, since she was scheduled to visit there after Ireland, they were not complaining but rather cheering.
A little investigation had revealed that Scotland, though not to the same extent as Ireland, had a significant number of regions already caught in the Malthusian trap.
The Highlands were a prime example; with a population of over 300,000 on a small patch of land, food production simply couldn't keep up.
If the potato crop were to vanish there, it would inevitably lead to mass starvation or emigration, just like in Ireland.
But now, the Famine Inquiry Commission and the Queen herself were visiting to proactively address these issues, which was received very differently.
It would stand in stark contrast to how the government and members of Parliament had shirked responsibility, ignoring the problems of each region.
“Are you feeling well?”
“Yes. I feel wonderful and refreshed. It’s my first time sailing out to the open sea like this, so I’m quite excited.”
In the early morning, as the first rays of dawn glittered on the Thames, the Queen, accompanied by her royal retinue and officials, received a grand send-off as she elegantly boarded the ship, ready to embark on her first voyage.
Prime Minister Robert Peel, needing to attend to matters of state, did not join the journey. In his stead, he appointed me, not the Chief Secretary for Ireland, the Earl of St Germans, as the head of the working-level officials.
It was a predictable outcome from the moment his plan was rejected and mine was adopted.
“We will sail down the river, through the strait, and into the Celtic Sea. We will then enter along the southern coast of Ireland. If you should feel bored at any point, we can stop at a nearby port, so please do not hesitate to say so.”
“It’s fine. I’ve always dreamed of a long journey by ship like this.”
“Is that so?”
“Isn’t it romantic? To set off on a journey on a grand ship like this, admiring the scenery along the way.”
As the ship slowly glided past St. Paul's Cathedral and the Palace of Westminster, Victoria's eyes darted left and right, unable to hide her excitement.
I, on the other hand, could only manage a bitter smile as I recalled the nightmare of spending months on a ship during my round trip to Asia. But she, oblivious, smiled brightly and poured wine into her glass.
“Should we begin the official schedule as soon as we arrive in Cove?”
“Yes. And I must apologize in advance, but upon our arrival in Ireland, we plan to avoid overly lavish meals or events out of consideration for local sentiment. Of course, we will take care to ensure the dignity of the Royal Family is upheld, but there is a fine line between appearing noble and appearing overly extravagant.”
“I understand. It would certainly feel out of place to be carving a prime steak while there to devise relief measures for people who will be suffering from famine.”
As I recalled, the historical Queen Victoria had also visited Ireland during the Great Famine.
At the time, the Irish people, suffering through the famine, had hoped that if the Queen saw the tragedy firsthand, it would spur some action within Britain.
However, the Queen had followed the government-planned itinerary, seeing only affluent areas largely unaffected by the famine, and came to perceive it as a disaster that had already passed.
As a result, after her visit, Britain became even more indifferent to the Irish famine, and the Irish people's hatred for the British grew even stronger. I remembered hearing that sad, ironic tale.
This time, I had to be meticulous to avoid such a foolish mistake and lose points.
“Then, Your Majesty. Before we arrive in Cove, I will brief you on the detailed schedule for this visit and the points to be aware of.”
“Excellent. Before that, won't you have a glass and enjoy the view, Minister? The cityscape from here is truly beautiful.”
“Then please, listen to my explanation while you enjoy the beautiful scenery. Upon our arrival in Cove, there will be a welcoming ceremony. I have little to say about that. The people of Ireland will surely be in awe of Your Majesty's undeniable elegance and beauty.”
“Ahem, so you too find me elegant and beautiful, Minister?”
“Need you even ask?”
It was likely thanks to her diligent self-care since her youth, but the current Victoria looked quite different from the portraits I had seen.
She still seemed self-conscious about her short stature, but I figured that was a problem that could be solved by creating modern high-heeled shoes.
Come to think of it, developing such a product could be quite profitable.
If Victoria herself wore them for promotion, I wouldn't even need to advertise; the ladies of the upper class would flock to buy them, clutching their money.
The important question was whether the technology of this era could produce a shoe that could stably support a woman's weight without causing significant foot pain… I'd have to look into a few shoe companies when I returned to London.
As I mulled over various business ideas and conversed with Victoria, it was soon time for a meal.
“Ahem, Your Majesty. There is one last thing I must mention, and I would be grateful if you could understand with your generous heart.”
“I can understand anything, so please, speak freely.”
“As we touched upon the topic of meals earlier, the people of Ireland will naturally be intensely curious about what Your Majesty eats. In other words, there is no more effective means of promoting a food than for you to eat it yourself.”
“I know. That’s how even unappetizing foods like the potato were made acceptable to the people.”
In the modern era, after countless rounds of breeding, potatoes had become so delicious that people would say, "Were people in the past fools? Why wouldn't they eat something this good?" But originally, the potato was the epitome of bland food.
It wasn't that it tasted awful; it was literally, purely, without taste.
The texture wasn't great either, to the point where even people starving during a drought would refuse to eat potatoes. That's how bad it was.
“We cannot rely on a single method to mitigate the damage of the Great Famine in Ireland. We will need to employ various means at once—emigration, alternative crops, agricultural restructuring, land reform—to have any hope of minimizing the damage.”
“...Your preamble is so long it's making me nervous. What is it that you need me to do?”
“We need to plant alternative crops in preparation for the potato blight. We still have a few years, so if we work diligently from now on, we can achieve results. But to do that, Your Majesty must actively promote this crop during your visit to Ireland.”
And when promoting a particular food, showing someone enjoying it is the best method.
I placed a piping hot new crop, one that had only been introduced to Northern Europe a few decades ago, on the Queen’s dining table.
“It's called a rutabaga. It looks similar to a turnip, but it can withstand much colder climates. It should grow well in Ireland's climate, so I believe it can be planted in place of potatoes for the time being.”
“Is that so? Well then, I might as well give it a try right now.”
“It will probably taste dreadful. It might be overwhelming at first, so let me get some sauce…”
“What do you take me for? I’ve already tried potatoes before coming to Ireland. A thing like this…”
With the confident smile of a model student who had done her homework, Victoria speared a piece of rutabaga with her fork and brought it to her lips. Her face froze.
“...”
“...”
“...”
“Your… Your Majesty. If it’s too awful, you may simply spit it out.”
An unholy trinity, lacking in texture, taste, and calories—the devil's food.
That phrase, more than any other, perfectly described the rutabaga.
Its only merits were that it grew well and was rich in vitamins and magnesium. There was never any chance that such a crop would suit the palate of a noble queen.
That's why I told her to at least use some sauce. Why did she have to be so stubborn?
“It’s… it’s… de… delicious… delicious. A texture and taste I've never experienced before… it's unique. It’s… edible. Haha…”
“Your Majesty. If it’s truly unbearable, you may just pretend to eat it. I will arrange things accordingly.”
“No. This is a project you are spearheading, Minister. Everything must be handled perfectly. How could I not even help with something like this? I will definitely get used to this devil's food before we arrive in Ireland!”
A queen, forcing herself to eat a food that even soldiers in World War I complained was tasteless, without any sauce.
Was this the great power of love they spoke of?
It was a moment that made me realize once again that nothing is truly impossible for humans.
Still, thanks to her, I was now certain that the visit to Ireland would be a resounding success.
Thank you, Your Majesty.
I will be sure to repay this kindness.