Chapter 16

Select Committee.

A British parliamentary activity functioning similarly to a modern Korean parliamentary hearing.

Now that I think about it, a select committee was held last year to determine whether it was appropriate to grant pensions to the French princesses who were descendants of George III.

At the time, pensions were being paid out of the King’s Privy Purse. However, because they were handed out based solely on the King’s favor without any criteria, the soundness of the royal budget was shaken, and Parliament eventually stepped in. After a long investigation, they recommended institutional improvements to the cabinet, and the pension system was partially revised in the process.

What if I use this in reverse?

I opened Victoria’s diary. Like reaching a hand into a well where no light reached to draw up cold water, I carefully turned the pages.

The day the vote on whether to wage war against Qing China took place was April 9, 1840.

271 votes in favor, 262 votes against. By a mere 9 votes, the fate of a continent tipped.
9 votes. That number felt exceptionally cold.

The fact that the giant wheel of history was changing direction upon a mere nine small stones. That mismatch between its smallness and its enormity might well be the true essence of history.

If a select committee could be formed, it would be possible to conduct a massive investigation into whether the war with Qing China was truly justified and whether there were faults on our side as well.

And perhaps, if the recommendation from the investigation results caused even a small ripple in Parliament’s vote, it might be possible to cross the threshold of 9 votes.

Rather than sitting and waiting for Daguerre and Isidore’s photographs to arrive, I have to do something. Because the fact that I need to change public opinion inside Parliament to prevent a war remains unchanged.

Yet the method was the problem.

I was a constitutional monarch.

To reign, but not to rule.

That sentence sat heavier upon my head than the crown itself.

Privately meeting with lawmakers to shape public opinion was an overreach of authority, and moving recklessly could turn Lord Melbourne and the entire Parliament into enemies.

Power was a curious thing. To those who possessed it, it seemed as though they could wield all of it, but what actually remained in one’s grasp was merely air.

The hand of one who wore a crown was the hand that held the most, yet simultaneously the hand bound to the most things. The very structure where the hand manipulating the marionette simultaneously became the marionette itself was the constitutional monarchy.

Is there no way?

Just as I was tearing my hair out because no brilliant solution came to mind, a knock sounded and Baroness Lehzen entered.

“Your Majesty, Sir Clark has called to pay his respects.”

Sir Clark.

The moment I heard that name, a single possibility came into view.

If I were to ask him to put effort into opening a select committee…

No.

I could not directly ask him, the Royal Physician, to exert effort toward opening a select committee.

For a constitutional monarch’s political intervention was like a river that, once crossed, could never be returned from.

Is there no way to make him move on his own without asking directly?

Without digging a water channel, making the water flow; without catching the wind, riding the wind—was there truly no way to make another person’s conscience rise up of its own accord?

…Perhaps?

In my life, I had never once held a fishing rod, but I knew the essence of fishing was not dragging the fish in, but waiting for the fish to bite the bait on its own. Patience, placement, and a light movement at the proper moment. That would be enough.

“Show him in.”

A moment later, carrying his usual gleaming medical bag and wearing a soft smile as always, Sir Clark bowed respectfully.

“Good morning, Your Majesty. I trust you slept well.”

“Welcome, Sir Clark. I am always the same.”

I forced a smile and greeted him. Skillfully extracting his stethoscope, Sir Clark pressed it against my back and tossed out a few questions.

“Has your sleep been irregular of late as well?”

“Naturally, since there is a major crisis in the country.”

To my complaint-laced reply, Sir Clark spoke up cautiously.

“Might it perhaps be because of the news coming from Guangzhou?”

“How could I not know? The entire London is abuzz with that talk.”

I flashed a bitter smile. It was genuine bitterness, not feigned performance.

When true emotion dwells within a calculated movement, that movement attains the greatest persuasive power.

Using my sincerity as bait, I began to summon his conscience.

“Royal Grade Laudanum, is it called? That name troubles my mind. That the royal name should be dragged into such a horrific affair.”

“It is merely a deplorable matter, Your Majesty.”

“It is not your fault, Sir Clark. It’s just… lately, I find myself thinking. Whether it is truly right to take away and sell to the people of another land something that we Britons have begun to shun as harmful to ourselves.”

My words lingered on my lips for a moment.

Truth is at its sharpest when cast as a question.

Assertions invite rebuttals, but questions act as mirrors reflecting the opponent’s conscience.

“It is not right, Your Majesty. It is a matter that can never be tolerated medically or ethically.”

“Isn’t it so? What is bad for us must be bad for them as well. Quite a common-sense notion.”

I turned my gaze toward the window. London in winter. Snowflakes were fluttering lightly beneath a gray sky.

Gazing at that scenery, I muttered deliberately as though speaking to myself.

“Yet I hear there are loud voices in Parliament insisting that we must not stop short of war to protect that bad thing.”

“…”

“Someone told me this: laudanum is less harmful than gin (cheap liquor), and after all, aren’t the people of Qing China the ones who desperately desire it?”

“That is mere sophistry, Your Majesty!”

Anger laced Sir Clark’s voice.

And the moment his emotions grew sufficiently heated, I quietly cast the final bait.

“Still… what can I do? I can only watch.”

The powerlessness of one who wears a crown plants the ember of responsibility in the listener’s heart.

If it is something the monarch cannot do, the subjects must step forward.
That logic was like a flower blooming most naturally upon the soil of loyalty.

“Your Majesty…”

“If I were not the Queen, I could have submitted a petition to Parliament to open a select committee regarding laudanum. But right now, I wear a crown.”

Crown.

That word was placed at the center of the conversation.

The crown was a symbol of power, yet also a golden shackle restricting the actions of the one who wore it.

And the moment that shackle was revealed, the duty of action was transferred to the free men standing outside the shackle.

I glanced sideways at Sir Clark’s complexion. A mixture of indignation and regret dwelt upon his face.

It was the expression of a loyal subject the moment he began to make his monarch’s anguish his own anguish.

“…How might one go about opening that select committee?”

He had bitten the bait, but I did not rush. Impatience is the quickest way to snap the fishing line.

“It is no simple task. First, one evaluates petitions from influential figures and reaches a decision in Parliament… The participation of socially prestigious and influential individuals is desperately needed.”

Someone like you.

I added these words inwardly, but did not let them pass my lips.

Not pointing a finger directly. Only then could he believe he had risen up of his own accord.

Because another person’s realization transforms into a true realization only when it is their own.

At my words, Sir Clark hesitated for a moment before speaking as though resolved.

“How would it be if we issued a petition in the name of the Royal Pharmaceutical Research Society?”

Yes! Exactly that!

I forced down the cheers trying to burst out from within.

Joy is the most honest of emotions, and try as one might to conceal it, its radiance reflects in the eyes.

Therefore, I instead wore an expression that seemed rather surprised.

“A petition?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. It is to state our perspective as experts regarding the medical hazards and unethical distribution practices of laudanum. Not as political statements, but purely from a medical and scientific standpoint. If it is the voices of physicians, pharmacists, and chemists, Parliament will find it difficult to ignore.”

At those words, I was startled. For what Sir Clark was saying now was that he would step forward as a whistleblower himself to expose the perils of laudanum.

“……Would that truly be all right? It might bring trouble upon you, Sir Clark.”

“It is what must be done as a physician, Your Majesty. Was not the Royal Pharmaceutical Research Society founded precisely to do such work?”

My heart swelled at his resolute firmness.

Granted, my initial calculation was to use him to open a select committee, but I was grateful for his courage to step forward in a situation where they might face backlash or criticism. The conscience already dormant within him had met the proper air and burst into flame.

Back when I majored in political science and diplomacy, I had the opportunity to enter a party think tank and become a politician, but I chose not to. At the time, I simply thought that entering a party to do politics was a filthy greed that corrupted human conscience.

Yet, after awakening as Queen Victoria, I realized keenly that nothing could ever be changed through pure conscience alone. For an intention to acquire any form in reality, it must always get a little dirt on its hands. Only hands soiled with dirt could plant the seed of conscience.

And with that, I realized that over the past half year, I had stepped somewhat deeper into the realms of politics, strategy, and machination. Though I felt an awareness that those footsteps were transforming into the image of the politician I had once shunned, strangely enough, I did not feel sad.

Sir Clark, Ann and Mary, and even the noblewomen led by Lady Ashburton.
Facing pure, and sometimes impure, hearts, I was learning every day that political calculation and conscience could coexist at the very same moment.

“Your courage, Sir Clark, may perhaps light the lamp of conscience in this land.”

A few days later, just as Sir Clark had said, the petition of the Royal Pharmaceutical Research Society was featured prominently on the front page of The Times.

The petition defined laudanum as a whisper of the devil that destroys the soul.

The whisper of the devil.

That expression touched the terror dwelling deep within the readers’ hearts.

For the Britons of the Victorian era, the devil was a real terror and a tangible evil.

Following The Times, newspapers such as the Morning Chronicle and the Morning Post began covering this petition. The names of London’s prominent physicians and pharmacists, with the Royal Physician Sir Clark standing at their vanguard. The weight carried by those names differed from the weight carried by politicians’ lips. The words of politics are doubted, while the words of science are trusted.

Thus, the atmosphere in Parliament began to shift.

The laudanum issue, which had hitherto remained confined solely within the framework of economic matters and free trade, gradually transformed into the language of public health and ethics as debate commenced.

Even the very same issue becomes an entirely different issue depending upon the language used to articulate it. What had been a trade imbalance in the language of economics became a threat to public health in the language of medicine, and a crime against humanity in the language of ethics. Language was a frame, and the frame was reality.

And at the center of this transformation stood a young man.

William Gladstone spoke thus:

“Sir Clark’s statement was like a lantern in the darkness.”

The day after the statement was published, he went straight to find Sir Clark, grasped his hand, and expressed his sincere gratitude.

“It is a shameful confession for a lawmaker, but we were blinded by economic interests for far too long and failed to see the essence. Yet Sir Clark has awakened us to that essence.”

“You flatter me too much, Honourable Member. I merely expressed my professional opinion as a physician.”

Sir Clark answered humbly, but Gladstone shook his head.

“No. Had it not been for your courageous voice, we would still be swayed by the logic of greed. Now is the time for Parliament to take action.”

“By action, you mean…?”

“Would not an official investigation be necessary to unearth the truth of this matter in detail? We must convene a select committee within Parliament to bring everything related to the laudanum trade out into the open light of day.”

Gladstone’s eyes were burning.

“A select committee—that is a truly splendid idea!”

“I have sought you out precisely to enlist Sir Clark’s help. Once the select committee is convened, would you be willing to testify once more as a witness regarding the dangers of laudanum?”

“Of course. I shall gladly assist.”

One was a physician who knew the harms of laudanum better than anyone else.

The other was a young politician appealing to conscience.

The clasp of their two hands began to summon a storm upon London.

A few days later, the Court of Requests in the Palace of Westminster.

Gladstone’s voice shook the assembly hall.

“Mr. Speaker! I formally propose the formation of a select committee to investigate the truth regarding the opium and laudanum trade with Qing China!”

The faces of Viscount Palmerston and other lawmakers who had been advocating for war hardened.

“The Royal Pharmaceutical Research Society has already clearly revealed that this trade is an act contrary to Britain’s national dignity and humanity’s conscience! We must no longer turn a blind eye to unethical practices perpetrated under the pretext of profit! In the name of Parliament, we must clarify the truth and render a righteous decision!”

Gladstone’s speech overwhelmed the audience.

The scales of public opinion had already tipped due to the medical association’s statement.

Even lawmakers such as Viscount Palmerston could not openly object.

Once the wave of public opinion begins to swell, even the most stubborn politician finds themselves temporarily unable to reverse its direction.

Ultimately, the formation of the select committee passed with majority support, and in late February 1838, the Select Committee on Laudanum and the China Trade was officially launched.

However, this committee was constituted as a temporary rather than a standing committee, driven by the pushback from lawmakers including Viscount Palmerston, who realized that the longer this issue was dragged out, the more disadvantageous it would be for them.

Beginning with limited time, limited investigation, and limited resources, the temporary committee centered around Gladstone—who had proposed the committee’s formation—and comprised lawmakers who took a keen interest in the laudanum issue or possessed expertise in trade. And among them was Viscount Palmerston himself, though to others, it simply felt like the devil had entered the courtroom.

Yet Viscount Palmerston cared not a whit. A fox does not enter a henhouse to protect the chickens. A fox always moves with a fox’s purpose.

On the day the committee’s first meeting was held.

Seated in the chairperson’s chair, Gladstone looked around at the committee members and declared solemnly.

“Esteemed members of the committee, our mission is weighty. We must meticulously record all questions, answers, and evidence passing through this committee and draft a report that will bring no shame to Britain’s future. Now, let us begin. As our very first witness to be summoned, we shall invite Her Majesty’s Royal Physician, Sir James Clark.”

“If it is Sir James Clark, is he not the Royal Physician? Calling him as a witness raises concern lest it border upon an act tarnishing the royal name.”

At Viscount Palmerston’s complaint, Gladstone smiled good-naturedly.

“My Lord, the committee may summon anyone as a witness whom it deems necessary for its investigation. Government officials, military officers, executives of the East India Company, merchants who traded directly with China, physicians, and even missionaries.”

“While the related regulations may indeed be such…”

“As you well know, do we not even possess the Summoning Power to command witnesses to attend in the name of Parliament? Much less can the Royal Physician be exempt from this sacred procedure. Furthermore, if one examines the facts, are not the bottles of laudanum stamped with the royal crest rolling about in Guangzhou the very things tarnishing the royal name?”

Though Gladstone spoke in a calm and measured tone, Viscount Palmerston somehow felt as though his bones were aching. Since all the lawmakers on the committee were either despising or mocking him, it was painfully obvious how the committee’s report would turn out if things continued this way.

This will not do… I must find another way, another way…!

Pondering for a moment, Viscount Palmerston raised his hand, stood up, and offered a suggestion.

“Then very well. I agree to the committee freely calling witnesses. However, for the sake of more transparent procedures, if reporters from various newspapers were also permitted entry to publicize the committee’s activities, would we not be able to approach right and wrong more closely?”

“Newspaper reporters, you say?”

Even so, Gladstone thought his suggestion was not a bad one.

For if they were gentlemen endowed with conscience and morality, upon witnessing the committee’s activities, they would undoubtedly oppose a war being waged for such immoral purposes.

“…Very well. Should there be any member of the committee who objects, please raise your hand.”

At those words, no one raised an objection, and thus Viscount Palmerston’s proposal regarding reporter access was passed. Yet at that moment, he, the original proposer, wore an inscrutable smile.