The American author, Mr. N. P. Willis, republican as he was, spoke of her in one of his letters as “quite unnecessarily pretty and interesting for the heir of such a crown as that of England.” Daniel O’Connell, then the leader of the movement for the repeal of the union between England and Ireland, was as great an enthusiast for her as any one in the three kingdoms. His stentorian voice led the cheering of the crowd outside of St. James’s Palace who welcomed her at the ceremony of proclamation. He said, when some of the gossips of the day chattered of a scheme to depose “the all but infant Queen” in favour of the hated Duke of Cumberland, “If necessary I can get 500,000 brave Irishmen to defend the life, the honour, and the person of the beloved young lady by whom England’s throne is now filled.” The picture of the Queen’s first council by Wilkie was shown in 1887 in the winter exhibition at the Royal Academy. It helps one very much to understand the sort of enthusiasm which she created. The sweet, girlish dignity and quiet simplicity with which she performed all the duties of her station filled every one with admiration. Surrounded by aged politicians, statesmen, and soldiers, she presides over them all with the grace and dignity associated with a complete absence of affectation and self-consciousness. Greville, the Clerk of the Council then, and for many years before and after, writes of this occasion: “Never was anything like the 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 something very extraordinary and far beyond what was looked for.” Melbourne, her first Prime Minister, loved her as a daughter; the Duke of Wellington had a similar feeling for her, which she returned with unstinted confidence and reliance. The first request made by the girl Queen to her mother, immediately after the proclamation, was that she might be left for two hours quite alone to think over her position and strengthen the resolutions that were to guide her future life. The childish words, “I will be good,” probably gave the forecast of the tone of the young Queen’s reflections. She must have felt the difficulties and peculiar temptations of her position very keenly, for when she was awakened from her sleep on the night of the 20th June 1837, to be told of William the Fourth’s death, and that she was Queen of England, her first words to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who made the announcement, were, “I beg your Grace to pray for me.”