Lord M. was the head of the Whigs would have amply sufficed to determine her politics.  The fall of the Whigs would mean a sad upset for Lord M. But it would have a still more terrible consequence:  Lord M. would have to leave her; and the daily, the hourly, presence of Lord M. had become an integral part of her life.  Six months after her accession she had noted in her diary “I shall be very sorry to lose him even for one night;” and this feeling of personal dependence on her Minister steadily increased.  In these circumstances it was natural that she should have become a Whig partisan.  Of the wider significance of political questions she knew nothing; all she saw was that her friends were in office and about her, and that it would be dreadful if they ceased to be so.  “I cannot say,” she wrote when a critical division was impending, “(though I feel confident of our success) how low, how sad I feel, when I think of the possibility of this excellent and truly kind man not remaining my Minister!  Yet I trust fervently that He who has so wonderfully protected me through such manifold difficulties will not now desert me!  I should have liked to have expressed to Lord M. my anxiety, but the tears were nearer than words throughout the time I saw him, and I felt I should have choked, had I attempted to say anything.”  Lord Melbourne realised clearly enough how undesirable was such a state of mind in a constitutional sovereign who might be called upon at any moment to receive as her Ministers the leaders of the opposite party; he did what he could to cool her ardour; but in vain.

With considerable lack of foresight, too, he had himself helped to bring about this unfortunate condition of affairs.  From the moment of her accession, he had surrounded the Queen with ladies of his own party; the Mistress of the Robes and all the Ladies of the Bedchamber were Whigs.  In the ordinary course, the Queen never saw a Tory:  eventually she took pains never to see one in any circumstances.  She disliked the whole tribe; and she did not conceal the fact.  She particularly disliked Sir Robert Peel, who would almost certainly be the next Prime Minister.  His manners were detestable, and he wanted to turn out Lord M. His supporters, without exception, were equally bad; and as for Sir James Graham, she could not bear the sight of him; he was exactly like Sir John Conroy.

The affair of Lady Flora intensified these party rumours still further.  The Hastings were Tories, and Lord Melbourne and the Court were attacked by the Tory press in unmeasured language.  The Queen’s sectarian zeal proportionately increased.  But the dreaded hour was now fast approaching.  Early in May the Ministers were visibly tottering; on a vital point of policy they could only secure a majority of five in the House of Commons; they determined to resign.  When Victoria heard the news she burst into tears.  Was it possible, then, that all was over?  Was she, indeed, about to see Lord M. for