Cumberland, who now became King of Hanover, was the first to take the oath, and Sussex, who was very infirm, and some distance from Her Majesty, was met half-way across the room, the Queen kissing them both. Greville noted with satisfaction that her courtesy did not break down when the heads of either party greeted her, that she was as pleasant to Wellington and Peel as to Melbourne and the Ministers. Really, his social knowledge should have saved him any doubts on that point, and rendered it unnecessary for him to “particularly watch” her when the Tory lords approached.
Creevy was much more pleasing when he wrote, “I cannot resist telling you that our dear little Queen in every respect is perfection.” Here is exaggeration, it is true, but no insistence upon doubt as to her being ordinarily well-mannered.
Even such a grave event as a first Privy Council meeting may provide food for laughter, and there is one little incident in connection with this Council which was not only amusing, but should have given those present some clear idea of their young Sovereign’s character. Sir Bernard Bosanquet, who was present, tells us that, “With the utmost dignity, before her assembled Privy Councillors, with her clear young voice, the Queen began reading:
“‘This Act intituléd’—which is the legal way of spelling entitled.
“‘Entitled, your Majesty, entitled,’ hastily corrected Lord Melbourne in a loud aside.
“The young Queen slowly drew herself up and said, quietly and firmly, ‘I have said it.’
“Then, after a pause, once more the beautiful childish voice rang out:
“‘This Act intituléd——’”
A curious mistake, or change of mind, took place over the Queen’s name. The Peers took the oath of fidelity to Alexandrina Victoria, and all the forms were duly made out in those names. Later in the day the Queen announced that she would be known as Victoria only, which caused a great stir officially, as new parchments with the amended style had to be procured in every case.
Her accession seems to have made a great difference to the little Queen. While only Princess everyone agreed in describing her as quiet, timid, shy; she was always hidden under the wing of her mother, who thought for her, acted for her, and spoke for her. As soon as she stood alone she became openly what she had probably always been in private, gay and high-spirited; she rode almost every day and drove in the Park; she courted publicity, saying, “Let my people see me,” and everywhere she met smiling faces and affectionate regards. There were, of course, those who foretold the usual sad tale, among them being Frances Anne Kemble, who wrote: