T nine o’clock the Prime Minister was received in audience alone; and soon afterwards an informal gathering of Privy Councillors, including the Queen’s uncle, the Duke of Sussex, the Duke of Wellington, and a dozen or so of ministers, prelates, and officials, was held in the anteroom to the Council Chamber, when an address of fealty and homage was read aloud and signed by those present.
After this the doors were opened, “disclosing”—to quote the words of Mr. Barrett Lennard, now the sole survivor of the scene, except the Queen herself—“a large State Saloon, close to whose threshold there stood unattended a small, slight, fair-complexioned young lady, apparently fifteen years of age. She was attired in a close-fitting dress of black silk, her light hair parted and drawn from her forehead; she wore no ornament whatever on her dress or person. The Duke of Sussex advanced, embraced and kissed her—his niece the Queen. Lord Melbourne and others kissed hands in the usual form, and the Usher taking the address, closed the doors, and the Queen disappeared from our gaze. No word was uttered by Her Majesty or by any present, and no sound broke the silence, which seemed to me to add to the impressive solemnity of the scene.”
The room where this took place is low and rather dark and gloomy, with pillars in it, supporting the floor of the “Cube Room” above.
The subsequent meeting of the Queen’s first Council, which took place at eleven o’clock, is familiar to everyone from Wilkie’s well-known picture—“though, at the expense of truth he has emphasized the principal figure by painting her in a white dress instead of the black which was actually worn.” Her Majesty was introduced to the Council Chamber by her uncles, the Dukes of Cumberland and Sussex, and at once took her seat on a chair at the head of the table.
In describing this famous scene, it is useless to attempt anything beyond quoting once more—often as it has been quoted—the admirable account given by Charles Greville, Clerk of the Council:
“Never was anything like the first impression she produced, or the chorus of praise and admiration which is raised about her manner and behaviour, and certainly not without justice. It was very extraordinary, and something far beyond what was looked for. Her extreme youth and inexperience, and the ignorance of the world concerning her, naturally excited intense curiosity to see how she would act on this trying occasion, and there was a considerable assemblage at the Palace, notwithstanding the short notice which was given.... She bowed to the Lords, took her seat, and then read her speech in a clear, distinct and audible voice, and without any appearance of fear or embarrassment. She was quite plainly dressed and in mourning.
“After she had read her speech, and taken and signed the oath for the security of the Church of Scotland, the Privy Councillors were sworn, the two Royal Dukes (of Cumberland and Sussex) first, by themselves; and as these two old men, her uncles, knelt before her, swearing allegiance and kissing her hand, I saw her blush up to the eyes, as if she felt the contrast between their civil and their natural relations, and this was the only sign of emotion she evinced. Her manner to them was very graceful and engaging: she kissed them both, and rose from her chair and moved towards the Duke of Sussex, who was farthest from her and too infirm to reach her. She seemed rather bewildered at the multitude of men who were sworn, and who came one after the other to kiss her hand, but she did not speak to anybody, nor did she make the slightest difference in her manner, or show any in her countenance, to any individual of any rank, station or party. I particularly watched her when Melbourne and the Ministers and the Duke of Wellington and Peel approached her. She went through the whole ceremony—occasionally looking at Melbourne for instruction when she had any doubt what to do, which hardly ever occurred—with perfect calmness and self-possession, but at the same time with a graceful modesty and propriety particularly interesting and ingratiating. When the business was done she retired as she had entered.
“Peel said how amazed he was at her manner and behaviour, at her apparent deep sense of her situation, her modesty, and at the same time her firmness. She appeared, in fact, to be awed, but not daunted, and afterwards the Duke of Wellington told me the same thing, and added that if she had been his own daughter he could not have desired to see her perform her part better.”