To Euphemia Henderson   18 August 1863

Melbourne botanic Garden

18/8/63

My dear Miss Henderson.

It is not without great pain, that I reply to your letter¹ received this day, for not only the emotions of my own feelings render me very unhappy, but the fact of causing to you profound sufferings adds vastly to my misery. You attributed most justly the melancholy, which I could not supress for many a wearied week, to my failing health, but since you on no occasion desired to elicit from me, whether my grief solely arose from my bodily frailness, I had no opportunity of disclosing to you, that mental sufferings were mainly the cause of my increasing illness and ceding strength. I have never surpressed anything before you but this, and had you asked me I should in candor have told you, that I became early conscious of having erred in entering in an engagement, which holds out no prospect of family happiness. I shall never cease to admire your talents blended as they are by a gentle disposition, qualities which carried me away in enthusiasm. But unfortunately I noticed, that destiny had brought us together years too late for matrimonial life, and that in adding the second decisive step to the first, I should for ever throw both of us into an abyss of misery. Unfortunately as a medical man I cannot be blind to the teachings of physiology and I cannot conceal from myself, as I have over and over tried, the fact, that the bonds on which mainly and almost exclusively true family happiness depends, could never brighten our union. Several medical friends, whom I have moreover consulted on this question, confirm fully the conclusions I have drawn on the subject; and as your future (you may believe it) is dear to me, I have after a long and most painful internal combat, deemed it much more honorable to afford you an opportunity of withdrawing from an engagement, which opens only a gloomy future. Though you regard in your letter the reason, which I frankly communicated through Dr Thomas,² as absurd, I can only say they are purely based on the laws of life and nature, and were Ladies aware of the doctrines of medicine many matrimonial engagements in advanced life would never be carried out, and the hopes of many a house never be blighted. This matter is so serious, that I must be permitted to express it so freely, even under the danger of wounding your feelings, altho my objects in writing to you was not to exonerate myself for the sin of having disturbed the peace of your mind. — You are the only one in this world, to whom I have ever done a lasting harm; nor will I screen for a moment my fault, and all even you can or will say against me is nothing to the remorse I feel from the calls of my own conscience. But I have in calm intervals contemplated the prospects of my future. I felt also persuaded, that if I honestly expressed my views thereon, you would perhaps not in the first emotions of grief, but certainly when you had become collected again for quiet reasoning lessen your censure and finally forgive my having by a rash action been the cause of much agony to you, and if I ever fully understand your heart, I know you possess generosity and pious resignation and disinterestedness enough to give up your claims on me, whenever I should solicit from you to exchange your love for friendship. By this priviledge you would greatly lessen the tortures, I feel for my action towards you. Great as the sacrifice is, I ask from you, the fortitude and generosity of your mind will, I trust, render it, if my welfare is really dear to you. O! you never would build an ephemerous and delusive happiness and glittering worthless grandeur on the ruin of my own tranquillity! You have friendly relations, under whose care and sympathy you will in time forget the temporary sufferings I have brought on you, and you will once with a melancholic pleasure view the events of the earlier parts of this year as a beautiful dream. If for the injury I have done to you I can render any atonement as a friend, nothing you may demand shall be left undone in my power. I am ready to place you in possession of all my disposible property, my library excepted. Certain expressions in your letter are to me obscure. Perhaps you have given a misinterpretation to my reasons for my imploring appeal. But I can only say, that though I erred severely like many other human mortals, my intentions have been and will be throughout life honorable. My sufferings in this trial have well nigh destroyed the rest of my health, whilst I cannot console myself, that I am like you innocent of the misery I have caused to both of us. I am conscious, that I shall sink in the estimation of many, whose opinion I value highly. I shall be denounced as faithless, as playing with the feelings of a poor devoted fellow creature, and many will even be unjust enough to attribute to me ulterior motives. But with all this I regard it my duty to prevent what will lead to infinite misfortune. By disclaiming me, you will afford me an opportunity of placing you in the most favorable position even towards the very few private friends, who know from my lips our former mutual position. Now, Miss Euphemia, act nobly and generously towards me, and restore to my poor heart the tranquillity, which it once enjoyed! My health will not admit of my living for a lengthened period in this restless trying state of suspension. Under the present sorrowful circumstances I cannot open and appropriate the letter³ of your venerable mother. Whenever I come to England I will wait on her and on your other relations and solicit from them that forgiveness, which I feel sure, once will also be granted by Mr M'Haffie and his Lady, from whom I experienced so many tokens of genuine but ill rewarded kindness. For nothing in the world I would pass again through the agonies and sufferings of the last few months! and I only wonder I sink not under them. You have it in your power to dispel my gloom and adopt me to brotherhood or friendship.

Ever yours with profound regards

Ferd. Mueller.⁴