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