The tenth edition of the "Principles" had been quickly sold, and Sir Charles was now employed in the preparation of another one. In this less change was necessary than on the last occasion; still, the rapid increase of knowledge, more especially in regard to the temperature and currents of the sea, obliged him to make considerable alterations in the parts which dealt with these subjects and with questions of climate, so that he recast or rewrote five chapters.
It was published in January, 1872; and in the summer of that year, no doubt in view of a new edition of the "Antiquity of Man," he went to the south of France, with Lady Lyell and Professor T. M'K. Hughes, to examine the Aurignac cave. Here several human skeletons had been discovered some years before, apparently entombed with the bones of various extinct mammals, such as the cave-bear and lion, the mammoth and woolly rhinoceros—in short, with a fauna characteristic of the palæolithic age. But was this really the date of the interment? Some distinguished geologists were of opinion that, though the cave had been then occupied by wild beasts, its floor had been disturbed, and the corpses buried in neolithic times. On this point Lyell was unable to obtain conclusive evidence, and was obliged to confine himself to a statement of the facts and arguments on either side of the question.[146]
Shortly after the publication of this new edition of the "Antiquity of Man" in January, 1873, an unexpected and irreparable bereavement darkened the evening of his days. On April 24th Lady Lyell, the companion and helpmate of forty years, was taken from him after a few days' illness from an inflammatory cold.[147] The shock was the more severe because the loss was so unforeseen. Lady Lyell was twelve years his junior, and had always enjoyed good health[148]—"youthful and vigorous for her age," as he writes—so that he "never contemplated surviving her, and could hardly believe it when the calamity happened." He bore the blow bravely, consoling himself by reflecting that the separation, at his age—nearly seventy-six—could not be for very long, and, as he writes to Professor Heer, of Zürich, endeavouring, "by daily work at my favourite science, to forget as far as possible the dreadful change which this has made in my existence."
Lady Lyell was a woman of rare excellence. "Strength and sweetness were hers, both in no common degree. The daughter of Leonard Horner, and the niece of Francis Horner, her own excellent understanding had been carefully trained, and she had that general knowledge and those intellectual tastes which we expect to find in an educated Englishwoman; and from her childhood she had breathed the refining air of taste, knowledge, and goodness. Her marriage ... gave a scientific turn to her thoughts and studies, and she became to her husband, not merely the truest of friends and the most affectionate and sympathetic of companions, but a very efficient helper. She was frank, generous, and true; her moral instincts were high and pure; she was faithful and firm in friendship; she was fearless in the expression of opinion without being aggressive; and she had that force of character and quiet energy of temperament that gave her the power to do all that she had resolved to do.... She had more than a common share of personal beauty; but had she not been beautiful she would have been lovely, such was the charm of her manners, which were the natural expression of warmth and tenderness of heart, of quick sympathies, and of a tact as delicate as a blind man's touch."[149]
He was not, however, left to bear in solitude the burden of darkening sight and of a desolated home. His eldest sister, Miss Lyell, came from Kinnordy to take care of his house and watch over him in these last years with an affectionate devotion; and in her company and that of Professor Hughes he even carried out the plan, which had been already in contemplation, of once more going on to the Continent and of visiting Professor Heer, at Zürich.
He worked on, as well as slowly increasing infirmities allowed, after his return to England, fully occupied in preparing a second edition of the "Student's Elements" and a new one of the "Principles."[150] In June, 1874, he again visited Cambridge, this time to receive the degree of LL.D.—an honour which that University had been strangely slow in conferring upon him.[151] It was then too evident that his strength was declining, for he became quickly fatigued by any exertion of body or mind; nevertheless, he was able soon afterwards to make once more the journey to Forfarshire, and to visit there several of his earlier geological haunts. In some of these little excursions he had as his companion Mr. J. W. Judd,[152] with whose recent researches into the ruined volcanoes of Tertiary age and the yet earlier stratified rocks in the Western Isles of Scotland Sir Charles was hardly less interested than he would have been in the days when the "Principles" was a new book. Three or four letters written about this time have been printed[153] which show, from their vigour and freshness, that the mind was still keen and bright, though the bodily machinery was becoming outworn. After his return to town he even ventured, on November 5th, to dine at the Geological Club,[154] of which he had been a member from its foundation, on its fiftieth anniversary meeting, and "spoke with a vigour which surprised his friends."
The tale, however, is nearly told; the sands of life were running low. "His failing eyesight and other infirmities now began to increase rapidly, and towards the close of the year he became very feeble. But his spirit was ever alive to his old beloved science, and his affectionate interest and thought for those about him never failed. He dined downstairs on Christmas Day with his brother's family, but shortly after that kept to his room."
On February 22nd, 1875, Charles Lyell entered into his rest. The end may have been slightly accelerated by two causes—one, the death, from inflammation of the lungs, after a short illness, of his brother,[155] Colonel Lyell, who, up to that time, had visited him almost daily; the other, the shock given to his enfeebled system by accidentally falling on the stairs a few weeks before. But in no case could it have been long delayed; the bodily frame was outworn; the hour of rest had come.
His fellow-workers in science felt unanimously that but one place of sepulture was worthy to receive the body of Charles Lyell—the Abbey of Westminster, our national Valhalla. A memorial, bearing many important signatures, was at once presented to Dean Stanley, who gave a willing consent, and the interment took place with all due solemnity on Saturday the 27th. The grave was dug in the north aisle of the nave, near that of Woodward, one of the pioneers of British geology and the founder of the chair of that science in the University of Cambridge. It is marked[156] by a slab of Derbyshire marble, which bears this inscription:—
CHARLES LYELL,
Baronet, F.R.S.,
Author of
"The Principles of Geology."
Born at Kinnordy, in Forfarshire,
November 14, 1797;
Died in London,
February 22, 1875.
Throughout a Long and Laborious Life
He Sought the Means of Deciphering
The Fragmentary Records
Of the Earth's History
In the Patient Investigation
Of the Present Order of Nature,
Enlarging the Boundaries of Knowledge
And Leaving on Scientific Thought
An Enduring Influence.
"O Lord, how great are Thy Works,
And Thy Thoughts are very deep."
Psalm xcii. 5.