In 1831 he visited Germany. Now he wrote home not only to his family, but to another, who was hereafter to brighten and beautify his life—Mary Horner, the daughter of a prominent scientist. To great personal beauty she added unusual mental ability. Wise man indeed was Charles Lyell to have known, what some fail to know beforehand, that intellect demands intellect for the best companionship.
He wrote to her: "I am sure you will work at it" (the German language) "with more zeal if you believe you can help me by it, as I labor with greater spirit, now that I regard myself as employed for you as well as for myself. Not that I am at all sanguine about the pecuniary profits that I shall ever reap, but I feel that if I could have fair play for the next ten years, I could gain a reputation that would make a moderate income for the latter part of my life, yield me a command of society, and a respect that would entitle me to rest a little on my oars, and enable me to help somewhat those I love.... As to geology having half of my heart, I hope I shall be able to give my whole soul to it, with that enthusiasm by which alone any advance can be made in any science, or, indeed, in any profession."
In 1832 Lyell was made professor of geology in King's College, London, which position he resigned later, because he wished "the power of commanding time to increase his knowledge and fame." This year also, July 12, when he was thirty-five, he was married to Mary Horner, and made a tour up the valley of the Rhine.
The earnest life was now more earnest and busy than ever. He said, "I am never so happy as when, at the end of a week, I feel I have employed every day in a manner that will tell to the rest of my life." Would that all of us could live after so noble a plan!
"Unless I can feel that I am working to some decided end, such as that of fame, money, or partly both, I cannot be quite happy, or cannot feel a stimulus to that strenuous application without which I should not remain content." He had learned what "strenuous application" means, and knew that there is no success without it. When congratulated by his friends "in not looking older for his hard work," he said, "The way to do much and not grow old is, to be moderate in not going out, to work a few hours, or half-hours, at a time, ... and to go to bed at eleven o'clock." He would not accept many invitations socially. "A man should have some severity of character, and be able to refuse invitations, etc.," he said. "The fact is, that to become great in science, a man must be nearly as devoted as a lawyer, and must have more than mere talent.... I think I never do so much as when I have fought a battle not to go out." Those who have written books will appreciate this statement, and recall the many days when they have closed the shutters and worked, though they longed to be out-of-doors in the sunlight.
In 1833, the year after his marriage, he gave by invitation a course of seven lectures before the Royal Institution, a high honor. In 1834, he passed several months in Sweden, and wrote back to his "dearest Mary,"—"I have been ten hours without a word with my love, but thinking of her more than half the time, and comforting myself that she is less alone than I am." ... He kept a journal for her of his daily work.
"It is now twenty-five days that we have been separated, and I have often thought of what you said, that the active occupation in which I should constantly be engaged would give me a great advantage over you. I trust, however, that you also have been actively employed. At leisure moments I have done some things towards planning my next volume. It will be necessary for us to have a work together at fossils at Kinnordy, first, and then in town, and then in Paris." Thus fully had the young wife entered into his studies.
In 1835, having received the gold medal of the Royal Society, for his "Principles of Geology,"—now in its fourth edition, which Sir John Herschel said he had read three times,—he was elected president of the Geological Society of London, and made extensive researches in Switzerland, Germany, and Scotland.
In 1841, already famous as well as beloved, Lyell was invited to give twelve lectures before the Lowell Institute, in Boston. He and his wife spent thirteen months in the United States, studying the country geologically; its social life, its politics, and our benevolent and educational institutions. Between two and three thousand persons came, both morning and evening, to listen to the distinguished scholar, who had travelled almost the world over to study his beloved science.
Close friendships were formed with some of our most prominent men, like Prescott and Ticknor. Lyell visited the great lakes, and compared the supposed ancient boundaries of Lake Ontario, when it was one hundred and fifty feet higher, with its present shore. He made a careful study of Niagara Falls, which cuts its deep gorge toward Lake Ontario, for seven miles, and estimated that it wore away a foot a year. If so, he argued that at least thirty-five thousand years have passed since the river began to cut its passage between the high rocky walls. "What would I give," said Lyell, "for a daguerrotype of the scene as it was four thousand, and again forty thousand years ago! Even four centuries would have been very important." Authorities differ as to the rate of the recession of the falls. Some estimate an inch instead of a foot yearly, requiring a period of more than four hundred thousand years.