My dear Darwin

I was going to write to you today thinking you would like to know that I saw the remains of poor FitzRoy laid in their last resting place on Saturday.² I was in Cornwall when I heard of it, having read a letter from him the day before. I had resigned my appointment a week before that—as three Doctors—consulted separately—told me I must give up, & ought to have done so sooner.³

FitzRoy wrote to me saying he thought I was right, and that he was anxious about what he ought to do. We have been urging him here for some time to take a long rest—& I have told him over & over again that he ought to do so, or give up entirely: but he wanted the strength of mind to decide, and I fear the idea of losing the Income for his family had much to do with it—⁴ In his note he said he had been very ill but his wife⁵ & a skilful Doctor, had—under god—saved his life, & he also remarked on never really feeling the value of blessings & particularly of health—until losing them. Though he trusted in his case it was only temporary— This I think shows he had no previous idea of taking away his own life, and that it could only have been done through the sudden impulse of insanity.

I came back Thursday night hoping to be in time for the funeral. I found a note from Mellersh⁶ at Brighton asking me to tell him when it was to be—but I found no one knew any thing about it at the Board or Adm^ty and I should not have known had not M^rs. FitzRoys brothers⁷ come to his office to lock up his papers &c & they told me it was early on Saturday at the Norwood Church, close to his house,⁸ & they had told no one but relatives as they thought under the circumstances it ought to be very private—but they were sure it would be gratifying to M^rs. FitzRoy if we were present. A French officer Capt Pigeard—of the Embassy—came to me afterwards to know when it was as he wished to attend on behalf of the French Navy, as they all thought so highly of him & many had recieved much kindness from him.⁹ Mellersh came up in time & he & I—Capt Pegeard, & Babbington—FitzRoy’s assistant,¹⁰—were the only strangers. His brother,¹¹ two of M^rs FitzRoy’s brothers¹²—Lord Campden¹³ and Genl Wood & his brother¹⁴ I think made up the old party. It was a very quiet and plain funeral, just what I think all funerals should be. Poor M^rs. FitzRoy would go, & the two daughters were with her.¹⁵ we all waited outside and walked after her carriage—& the same back the brothers only going into the house. It was a trying scene at the grave. Poor M^rs. F and the girls looked dreadfully ill, & M^rs. F gave way very much. The coffin was plain black wood with “Robert FitzRoy, born — — died — —” on a brass plate. You may suppose what a trial it was for me, and the thought of old times and scenes that would be mixed up with it all. The relatives were much pleased at the French Captain—showing such a desire to be present. I have no doubt many would have been there if they had known it, but no answer could be given to numerous letters to the office asking when it was to be, even from distant ports.

& Now about my own case. I remained abroad four months,¹⁶ was not much better for two months while moving about in France & Italy—but after six weeks quiet rest at Vevey I got so well that when we went up to a mountain Pension for three weeks I was able to walk up mountains for hours without any return of pain or weakness in leg, or headache, & I returned as well as I ever felt but as I got to work again the symptoms soon returned, and by January I was very unwell. at one time I was a fortnight at home with severe shooting pains in back of head every few seconds, and afterwards for six weeks my leg gave way so in knee & below it that I could not walk from the station to office—& latterly—for the first time,—I feel my work a burthen to me. About a month since, the D^r at Brighton, who sent me abroad, told me I must have perfect rest for my head: to make sure I consulted two others without their knowing what others said, and they all agreed, & said I ought to have given up before, & that if I went beyond the turning point I should go rapidly down hill, but that avoiding brain work & excitement I might live to a good age, as there was no disease of the heart, but only weakness of action so that the small vessels of head were congested— After the weather got warmer I got better, but with these opinions I felt I ought at once to give up— I go on till end of this month, and then go on half pay as a private gent. again. We mean to sell the house as I cannot afford to live near London, and also my girls are better by the sea; so we go to Bournemouth where we shall settle.¹⁷

I should like to run down to you for one night before I leave, to see you before we go. I am sorry to hear such a poor account of you. Why do you not give up all work and try a Summer in the Swiss Mountain air? My eldest boy¹⁸ passed last July and is now Sub Lieut & Assist Surveyor of Firefly in Mediterranean. The second is now passing at Portsmouth.¹⁹ The youngest²⁰ asked me to let him try the Cambridge local examination last December   he was 15 & of course in the Junior batch.²¹ out of 675 he was bracketed 9^th. in the Mathematical Honors only 12 getting them; and of the 8 above him, 7 were so much older that they had gone up for the previous examⁿ a year before, which also gave them a great advantage in experience. I hope therefore he will be able to win an open Scholarship at Cambridge if he lives to try. I always wished one boy to do that.

With very kind regards to M^rs. Darwin & your Daughters | Believe me dear Darwin | Yours most sincerely | B. J. Sulivan