e King's Bench, I believe
that I could find in my own mind resources which would preserve me from
being positively unhappy. But, if I could escape from these impending
disasters, I should wish to do so. By accepting the post which is
likely to be offered to me, I withdraw myself for a short time from the
contests of faction here. When I return, I shall find things settled,
parties formed into new combinations, and new questions under
discussion. I shall then be able, without the scandal of a violent
separation, and without exposing myself to the charge of inconsistency,
to take my own line. In the meantime I shall save my family from
distress; and shall return with a competence honestly earned, as rich as
if I were Duke of Northumberland or Marquess of Westminster, and able
to act on all public questions without even a temptation to deviate
from the strict line of duty. While in India, I shall have to discharge
duties not painfully laborious, and of the highest and most honourable
kind. I shall have whatever that country affords of comfort or
splendour; nor will my absence be so long that my friends, or the public
here, will be likely to lose sight of me.

The only persons who know what I have written to you are Lord Grey,
the Grants, Stewart Mackenzie, and George Babington. Charles Grant
and Stewart Mackenzie, who know better than most men the state of the
political world, think that I should act unwisely in refusing this post;
and this though they assure me,--and, I really believe, sincerely,--that
they shall feel the loss of my society very acutely. But what shall I
feel? And with what emotions, loving as I do my country and my family,
can I look forward to such a separation, enjoined, as I think it is,
by prudence and by duty? Whether the period of my exile shall be one
of comfort,--and, after the first shock, even of happiness,--depends on
you. If, as I expect, this offer shall be made to me, will you go with
me? I know what a sacrifice I ask of you. I know how many dear and
precious ties you must, for a time, sunder. I know that the splendour
of the Indian Court, and the gaieties of that brilliant society of which
you would be one of the leading personages, have no temptation for you.
I can bribe you only by telling you that, if you will go with me, I will
love you better than I love you now, if I can.

I have asked George Babington about your health and mine. He says that
he has very little apprehension for me,