The unhappy difference between the Marquis of Buckingham and his brother, Mr. Thomas Grenville, was not yet adjusted; and time seems only to have widened a breach which both deplored, and were equally anxious to remove. The proud feelings of the Marquis, wounded by the injustice with which he conceived he had been treated, were peculiarly sensitive to every act on the part of his friends that departed in the slightest degree from the line he had marked out for himself. Perhaps he expected from them more in this respect than the obligations of public life could be reasonably expected to concede; in this instance, at least, he appears to have exaggerated into a personal wrong a vote which was given on pure and independent grounds, without a suspicion that it was open to so injurious an interpretation. Mr. Thomas Grenville's letter on this painful subject is an honourable testimony alike to his integrity and his affection.
MR. THOMAS GRENVILLE TO THE MARQUIS OF BUCKINGHAM.
St. James's Street, Feb. 4th, 1785.
My dear Brother,
Anything that comes from you with the least prospect of bringing back to me those sentiments of affection which, in spite of any political differences, it has always been my first wish to keep alive between us; any intimation of your looking for a brother in one who has never ceased to be so to you; I cannot but be eager to express the pleasure and satisfaction I feel in receiving from you. And if I did not feel shocked and wounded by those expressions which ascribe to my vote motives so foreign to my nature, that I can scarce bear to read or repeat them, my hopes of living with you in the affectionate intercourse of a brother would have kept my attention to that pleasing prospect only, and would have shut my lips upon every past subject of difference. Can I really have to think that you are serious in considering me as having struck at your honour and your life by any vote that I have given? That such an expression can have come from you after a year's reflection, wounds me more than anything that could be said in the first moments of anger; and it is not against such a charge that I can argue to defend myself.
I cannot say with how much concern it is, that I have felt myself obliged to allude to anything that has passed, nor could I have been forced now to do it, was it not that to have said nothing upon a charge so cruel might have looked like acquiescing in the justice of it: of that vote I have always said, and God knows, always truly said, that I made in it no personal attack, felt in it nothing hostile to you, and regretted in it only the misrepresentation and misconception of others. I have said more, and still say, that the misunderstanding of that vote is so grievous to me, that, blameless as my motives were, I would not have given it, if I had thought it liable to the misrepresentations that have been made of it; yet, God knows, I thought it could be mistaken only by those who did not know me.
I return with pleasure, my dear brother, to that part of your note, in which I hope I find again the prospect of that near affectionate relation, the renewal of which on your part, my mind has ever been anxious for, and ever eager to bring about, from the first moment that political differences had separated us; for, upon political subjects, my mind receives no impression that can stop in it the feelings of relationship, kindness, and affection, all of which I will hope, my dearest brother, the latter words of your note again open the way to—a way in which I cannot too often repeat, how gladly and happily I should go forward in.
Ever your very affectionate brother,
Thomas Grenville.
The following passage, in the Marquis of Buckingham's hand-writing, apparently cut out of a former letter to which the above is the reply, seems to contain the observations from which Mr. Thomas Grenville extracted the hope of reconciliation. It is enclosed in his letter as if it had been returned to the writer.
When you joined in the vote which impeached my honour, and possibly my life, you forgot the feelings of a brother, and dissolved the ties between us. I loathe the looking back, still less do I mean to reproach: my heart is still alive to those feelings which nature and religion dictate to me.