In May, 1829, he wrote to Mr. Belfour, the Secretary of the College of Surgeons (whose politeness and attention in facilitating our inquiries at the College we are happy thus publicly to acknowledge), as follows:
"My dear Sir,
"Early in April, the thermometer was above 70°, and I had so violent a relapse of rheumatism, that I have not been able (nor am I now able) to leave this place since that time. Apologize to the President, therefore, for my non-attendance on Monday. Entre nous: as I think I shall not be able to perform the duties of those situations which I now hold at the College, I think of resigning them; yet I will not decide till I have talked with Clift[87] upon it. If he could come down this or the following Saturday, I should be glad to see him.
"I remain, my dear Sir,
"Yours very sincerely,
"John Abernethy."Enfield, May 21.
"To Edmund Belfour, Esq."
He accordingly, in July of 1829, resigned his seat at the Court of Examiners, when the following Memorial was sent him by the Court of Examiners:
"At the College, at the Court holden on Friday, the 17th of July, 1829:
"Present: Mr. Thomas, President; Mr. Headington, Mr. Keate, Vice-Presidents; Sir William Blizard, Mr. Lynn, Sir A. Cooper, Bart., Sir A. Carlisle, Mr. Vincent, and Mr. Guthrie:
"Resolved, that the following Memorial be entered in the minutes of this Court:
"Conscious of having been enlightened by the scientific labours of Mr. Abernethy; convinced that teachers of anatomy, physiology, and of surgery (and consequently their pupils), have derived most important information from these sources of knowledge; and impressed that the healing art has been eminently advanced by the writings of that excellent individual; the Members of the Court of Examiners lament the tendered resignation of an associate so endowed, and whose conduct in the Court has always been so exemplary.
"Resolved also, that a copy of the foregoing Memorial be delivered by the Secretary to Mr. Abernethy."
He had by this time become a great sufferer—walked very lamely; and this difficulty, interfering more than ever with his exercise, no doubt tended to make matters worse. He consulted nobody, I believe, but his old friend Dr. Roberts, of St. Bartholomew's. He was induced to go for some time into the country; and on his return, hearing that he was again in Bedford Row, and not having seen him for some time, I called on him one morning, about eleven o'clock.
I knew that he had been very ill; but I was not in the least prepared to see him so altered. When I was shown into his room, I was so struck with his appearance, that it was with difficulty I concealed the emotion it occasioned; but I felt happy in observing that I had succeeded.
He appeared, all at once as it were, to have become a very old man; he was much thinner; his features appeared shrunk. He had always before worn a good deal of powder; but his hair, which used to hang rather thickly over his ears, was now thin, and, as it appeared to me, silvered by age and suffering.
There was the same expressive eye which I had so often seen lit up by mirth or humour, or animated by some more impassioned feeling, looking as penetrating and intellectual as ever, but with a calmness and languor which seemed to tell of continued pain, and which I had never seen before. He was sitting at a table, on a sort of stool, as it appeared to me, and had been seeing patients, and there were still several waiting to see him. On asking him how he was, his reply was very striking.
It was indeed the same voice which I had so often listened to with pleasure; but the tone was exceedingly changed. It was the subdued character which is expressive of recent suffering, and sounded to me most mournfully. "Ay," say he, "this is very kind of you—very kind indeed!" And he somewhat distressed me by repeating this several times, so that I hardly knew what to reply. He said he was better, and that he could now walk pretty fairly again, "as," said he, "you shall see."