If one had to name a single essential virtue of a politician, it would undoubtedly be the ability to capture the hearts of the public.
And among the many ways to do that, few methods are as effective as inspiring genuine empathy.
From my preliminary research, the Irish people generally viewed Victoria quite favorably.
She was young, energetic, and progressive.
Naturally, many hoped such a queen might treat them better than the monarchs before her.
To be honest, having her eat rutabaga was not only about promoting an alternative crop.
It was also meant to boost the public image of the royal family.
Why do modern politicians visit traditional markets during campaigns and film themselves eating local food?
Because it sends a message:
We care about ordinary people.We share your lives.
Some people mock that sort of behavior as cynical.
But even in the twenty-first century, no one denies that it works.
Human beings are emotional creatures.
When their feelings are stirred, their hearts follow.
And after actually working in politics myself, I realized something.
That sort of gesture is not necessarily deception.
If someone pretends and lies about it, then yes, it is manipulation.
But if you approach it sincerely, you can genuinely experience the lives of ordinary people.
Victoria's current preparation for her "food diplomacy" was the perfect example.
"Your Majesty," I said.
"The coastline is visible ahead. We should reach southern Ireland soon."
Victoria exhaled slowly.
"…That's a relief."
"Minister, my expression doesn't look strange, does it?"
"As always, Your Majesty looks elegant and beautiful."
"Excellent," she said with satisfaction.
"I've finally reached the stage where I can eat that devil's vegetable without my face freezing."
Victoria stared at the green cliffs rising dramatically from the sea.
The excitement she had shown when leaving London was gone.
Now her expression was serious.
After gazing silently at the distant fields and scattered cottages, she sighed softly.
"If that potato blight spreads…"
"How many years will the Irish have to eat rutabaga?"
"Even under the best circumstances, probably three years," I replied.
"Of course they won't eat only rutabaga."
"The repeal of the Corn Laws has lowered wheat prices."
"With relief supplies and proper distribution, we can balance things out."
Victoria frowned.
"Still… three years."
"Three years of that…"
"You might feel differently if you had eaten it with sauce or cooked properly," I said.
"You tried it in the most unpleasant form possible."
Considering the vegetable already tasted terrible, eating it plain could hardly leave a good impression.
I vaguely remembered reading somewhere that rutabaga could be turned into something decent—perhaps even fermented like kimchi.
But introducing kimchi to Ireland was about as realistic as flying.
Still, there were plenty of ways to make rutabaga less awful.
Victoria had rejected every one of them.
She insisted on eating it exactly as Irish people would during a famine.
From a publicity standpoint, it was perfect.
But I had assumed she would give up after a few bites.
In fact, I had tried to stop her repeatedly.
Even I was eating it, but feeding rutabaga to the Queen of Britain felt… questionable.
If this ever entered the history books, people might remember me as the man who made the Queen eat rutabaga for "love wages."
Well.
At least I would certainly be remembered as a remarkable figure in history.
To my surprise, Victoria truly meant what she said.
She had declared she would master eating rutabaga without flinching before arriving in Ireland.
And today—
Just before the royal ship reached the port of Cobh—
She calmly finished an entire serving with a dignified smile.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
As the ship approached the harbor, cannons thundered from the shore.
A band began playing God Save the Queen.
"Your Majesty! It is an honor to welcome you to Ireland!"
"Thank you for your warm reception," Victoria replied gracefully.
"It feels quite different meeting you all outside London."
"You must be tired after the voyage," one official said.
"Perhaps you should rest at your residence today and begin the official schedule tomorrow."
"Thank you for the consideration," Victoria said.
"I'll return to the residence now."
"Chief Secretary, please continue discussing arrangements with the minister and inform me if anything requires my attention."
With that, Victoria departed amid enthusiastic cheers.
Once she was out of sight, the Chief Secretary for Ireland, Earl of St Germans, approached me.
"Minister, you must also be exhausted from the journey."
"It's nothing," I said.
"Compared to traveling to Qing China, this feels like a walk in the garden."
The earl laughed.
"When you put it that way… I suppose you did sail nearly around the world."
"Has anything changed in tomorrow's schedule?"
"Not yet," he said.
"Local clergy, government officials, magistrates, and town heralds will attend."
"You and Her Majesty will deliver speeches there."
Originally, the Chief Secretary had planned an itinerary that included only wealthy districts.
Tea with aristocrats.
Balls in Dublin and Belfast.
A few pleasant speeches before returning to London.
Typical aristocratic nonsense.
Did these people genuinely believe such events would move Irish citizens to tears of gratitude?
After gaining authority over the visit, I scrapped those plans entirely.
Instead, I arranged meetings with ordinary people.
If I hadn't intervened early, we might have come all the way to Ireland just to attend dances.
Still…
The lack of awareness among so many politicians was not entirely a bad thing.
After all, everything in this world is relative.
The worse others perform, the brighter you shine.
"Please continue your excellent work, Chief Secretary," I said.
"I'll review tomorrow's schedule with our delegation."
"O'Connell, shall we?"
Daniel O'Connell blinked.
"Ah… yes. Right."
"What was it you said?"
"Is it already time?"
"We should review tomorrow's speech."
"It's an important occasion."
"Ah… yes, of course."
"Forgive me. I was lost in thought."
The Queen of the British Empire had set foot in Ireland.
For a man who had devoted his life to Irish rights, O'Connell's emotions were understandable.
After staring for a long time at the road where Victoria's carriage had disappeared, he shook his head and followed me.
"On behalf of our town, we welcome you!"
"Thank you for traveling so far for us, Your Majesty!"
"We thank you on behalf of our church! God will surely rejoice in Your Majesty's compassion!"
The garden was packed with people.
One by one they stepped forward, bowing deeply while offering words of gratitude.
The most important part of this visit was ensuring that news of it spread across Ireland without distortion.
What the Queen said.
What instructions I issued.
For that information to reach the entire island, we needed as many witnesses as possible.
Ireland still lacked reliable postal systems.
Administrative infrastructure was weak.
Most news spread through word of mouth or official announcements.
And in such conditions, the church held enormous influence.
Ireland was overwhelmingly Catholic.
Handling Catholic bishops required particular care.
The Chief Secretary had suggested excluding them.
Since the state church was Anglican.
I ignored him completely and invited them anyway.
Victoria already enjoyed a strong public image.
We could easily frame this as an act of royal generosity to save Irish lives.
The Catholic clergy—who had expected to be excluded—were deeply moved.
They praised Victoria's compassion.
And they praised the man who had convinced her.
At this point I wondered whether the Chief Secretary was actually a reverse oracle.
Everything he suggested seemed to work better if done the opposite way.
Eventually the crowd quieted.
Standing beside the Queen, I stepped forward.
"Good afternoon."
"It is my great pleasure to meet you here in Ireland rather than London."
"First, let us thank our noble Queen Victoria for traveling all this way for the sake of Ireland."
"Long live the Queen!"
"God save the Queen!"
"Lord Arran! You're handsome!"
The crowd erupted instantly.
Just a few formal words, and the atmosphere exploded with enthusiasm.
Now I understood why politicians became addicted to campaign rallies.
"But unfortunately," I continued,
"I did not come here only to bring good news."
"Many of you have already heard rumors."
"Some accurate. Some wildly distorted."
"I could not stand by while Ireland suffered such fear."
"So I personally asked Her Majesty to come."
"And the gracious Queen accepted my request."
"Thank you, Your Majesty!"
"Hope of Ireland!"
"I will begin by addressing the matter everyone wishes to know."
"Please record my words carefully."
"Anything else you hear is false."
"Return to your towns and share this message accurately."
I paused.
Then I spoke clearly.
"The rumors about a potato blight that could devastate the harvest…"
"…are true."
A collective gasp swept through the crowd.
Only moments ago the atmosphere had been warm and cheerful.
Now—
It froze completely.