Dear Grenville,
You will not wonder at my being hurried too much at this moment
to write you a detail of what has happened. I do assure you that
the thing that has given me most concern, is the sort of scrape
I have drawn you into; but I think I may depend upon your way of
thinking for forgiving me; though to say one can depend upon any
man, is a bold word, after what has passed within these few
days. I am sure, on the other hand, that you may depend upon my
eternal gratitude to you for what you have undergone on my
account, and that you always must have the greatest share in my
friendship and affection. I do not think you will think these
[less] valuable than you used to do. I have done right, I am
sure I have. The Duke of Richmond thinks very much otherwise,
and will do wrong; I cannot help it. I am sure my staying would
have been a means of deceiving the public and betraying my
party; and these are things not to be done for the sake of any
supposed temporary good. I feel that my situation in the
country, my power, my popularity, my consequence, nay, my
character, are all risked; but I have done right, and therefore
in the end it must turn out to have been wise. If this fail me,
the pillared firmament is rottenness, and earth's base built on
stubble.
Adieu. Your brother disapproves too.
Yours most affectionately,
C. J. Fox.
St. James's, July 5th, 1782.