Eclipse – Visits of Scientific Men – Life at Naples – Darwin’s Books – Remarks on Civilisation – Fine Aurora Borealis – Death of Herschel – Summer at Sorrento – Bill for Protection of Animals – Ninety-Second Year – Letter from Professor Sedgwick – Grand Eruption of Vesuvius – Last Summer at Sorrento, Plants Found There – Conclusion
THE summer of 1870 was unusually cool; but the winter has been extremely gloomy, with torrents of rain, and occasionally such thick fogs, that I could see neither to read nor to write. We had no storms during the hot weather; but on the afternoon of the 21st December, there was one of the finest thunderstorms I ever saw; the lightning was intensely vivid, and took the strangest forms, darting in all directions through the air before it struck, and sometimes darting from the ground or the sea to the clouds. It ended in a deluge of rain, which lasted all night, and made us augur ill for the solar eclipse next day; and, sure enough, when I awoke next morning, the sky was darkened by clouds and rain. Fortunately, it cleared up just as the eclipse began; we were all prepared for observing it, and we followed its progress through the opening in the clouds till at last there was only a very slender crescent of the sun’s disc left; its convexity was turned upwards, and its horns were nearly horizontal. It was then hidden by a dense mass of clouds; but after a time they opened, and I saw the edge of the moon leave the limb of the sun. The appearance of the landscape was very lurid, but by no means very dark. The common people and children had a very good view of the eclipse, reflected by the pools of water in the streets.
Many of the astronomers who had been in Sicily observing the eclipse came to see me as they passed through Naples. One of their principal objects was to ascertain the nature of the corona, or bright white rays which surround the dark lunar disc at the time of the greatest obscurity. The spectroscope showed that it was decidedly auroral, but as the aurora was seen on the dark disc of the moon it must have been due to the Earth’s atmosphere. Part of the corona was polarised, and consequently must have been material; the question is, Can it be the ethereal medium? A question of immense importance, since the whole theory of light and colours and the resistance of Encke’s comet117 depends upon that hypothesis. The question is still in abeyance, but I have no doubt that it will be decided in the affirmative, and that even the cause of gravitation will be known eventually.
At this time I had the pleasure of a visit from Mr Peirce°, Professor of Mathematics and Astronomy in the Harvard University, U.S., and Superintendent of the U.S. Coast Survey, who had come to Europe to observe the eclipse. On returning to America he kindly sent me a beautiful lithographed copy of a very profound memoir in linear and associative algebra. Although in writing my popular books I had somewhat neglected the higher algebra, I have read a great part of the work; but as I met with some difficulties I wrote to Mr Spottiswoode°, asking his advice as to the books that would be of use, and he sent me Serret’s Cours d’Algèbre Supérieure, Salmon’s Higher Algebra, and Tait on Quaternions; so now I got exactly what I wanted, and I am very busy for a few hours every morning; delighted to have an occupation so entirely to my mind. I thank God that my intellect is still unimpaired. I am grateful to Professor Peirce for giving me an opportunity of exercising it so agreeably. During the rest of the day I have recourse to Shakespeare, Dante, and more modern light reading, besides the newspapers, which always interested me much. I have resumed my habit of working, and can count the threads of a fine canvas without spectacles. I receive every one who comes to see me, and often have the pleasure of a visit from old friends very unexpectedly. In the evening I read a novel, but my tragic days are over; I prefer a cheerful conversational novel to the sentimental ones. I have recently been reading Walter Scott’s novels again, and enjoyed the broad Scotch in them. I play a few games at Bézique with one of my daughters, for honour and glory, and so our evenings pass pleasantly enough.
It is our habit to be separately occupied during the morning, and spend the rest of the day together. We are fond of birds and have several, all very tame. Our tame nightingales sing very beautifully, but, strange to say, not at night. We have also some solitary sparrows, which are, in fact, a variety of the thrush (Turdus cyaneus), and some birds which we rescued from destruction in spring, when caught and ill-used by the boys in the streets; besides, we have our dogs; all of which afford me amusement and interest.
[Mary Somerville also has this to say about Darwin’s Origin of Species, 1859: 1D, 256–7: Mr Darwin [has already] published a book on the Origin of Species by Natural Selection which was much discussed in general society, and produced a great sensation in the scientific world. His theory is that in the organic creation, animal and vegetable, an accidental variety sometimes occurs which either from greater strength, fertility, or some other favourable circumstance becomes superior to its kindred, prevails over them, possibly extirpates them and establishes itself as a species. Moreover he conceives that a casual variety may occur in the latter, which has to struggle for life and mastery like its predecessor. Thus according to Mr Darwin’s theory, the organic world, animal and vegetable, has been transformed by an insensible and continuous metamorphosis of species during innumerable ages to its present state. He maintains his theory with so much talent that it is daily prevailing. Yet it is imperfect, for he does not explain the origin of the varieties of first organic forms, the primordial types or varieties whence by a slow evolution he conceives the species of all terrestrial beings to have arisen, yet that is the important question which Mr Darwin himself confesses he has not solved. Palaeontologists have demonstrated that the Earth has been inhabited by a multitude of organic beings which through innumerable ages have been rising higher and higher in structure and intelligence from a monad to man. Although we know not the means employed by a foreseeing will to introduce one form of life after another into the world, there cannot be a doubt that it is governed by an eternal fixed law established by the Deity when he created the first living organism.]
Mr Murray has kindly sent me a copy of Darwin’s° recent work on the Descent of Man. Mr Darwin maintains his theory with great talent and with profound research. His knowledge of the characters and habits of animals of all kinds is very great, and his kindly feelings charming. It is chiefly by the feathered race that he has established his law of selection relative to sex. The males of many birds are among the most beautiful objects in nature; but that the beauty of nature is altogether irrelative to man’s admiration or appreciation, is strikingly proved by the admirable sculpture on Diatoms and Foraminifera; beings whose very existence was unknown prior to the invention of the microscope. The Duke of Argyll° has illustrated this in the Reign of Law, by the variety, graceful forms and beautiful colouring of the humming birds in forests which man has never entered.
In Mr Darwin’s book it is amusing to see how conscious the male birds are of their beauty; they have reason to be so, but we scorn the vanity of the savage who decks himself in their spoils. Many women without remorse allow the life of a pretty bird to be extinguished in order that they may deck themselves with its corpse. In fact, humming birds and other foreign birds have become an article of commerce. Our kingfishers and many of our other birds are on the eve of extinction on account of a cruel fashion.
I have just received from Frances Power Cobbe an essay, in which she controverts Darwin’s theory, so far as the origin of the moral sense is concerned. It is written with all the energy of her vigorous intellect as a moral philosopher, yet with a kindly tribute to Mr Darwin’s genius. I repeat no one admires Frances Cobbe more than I do. I have ever found her a brilliant, charming companion, and a warm, affectionate friend. She is one of the few with whom I keep up a correspondence.
To Mr Murray I am indebted for a copy of Tylor’s° Researches on the Early History of Mankind, and the Development of Civilization – a very remarkable work for extent of research, original views, and happy illustrations. The gradual progress of the pre-historic races of mankind has laid a foundation from which Mr Tylor proves that after the lapse of ages the barbarous races now existing are decidedly in a state of progress towards civilisation. Yet one cannot conceive human beings in a more degraded state than some of them are still; their women are treated worse than their dogs. Sad to say, no savages are more gross than the lowest ranks in England, or treat their wives with more cruelty.
In the course of my life Paris has been twice occupied by foreign troops, and still oftener has it been in a state of anarchy. I regret to see that Laplace’s house at Arcœuil has been broken into, and his manuscripts thrown into the river, from which some one has fortunately rescued that of the Mécanique Céleste, which is in his own handwriting. It is greatly to the honour of French men of science that during the siege they met as usual in the hall of the Institute, and read their papers as in the time of peace. The celebrated astronomer Janssen even escaped in a balloon, that he might arrive in time to observe the eclipse of the 22nd November, 1870.
We had a most brilliant display of the Aurora on the evening of Sunday, the 4th February, 1871, which lasted several hours. The whole sky from east to west was of the most brilliant flickering white light, from which streamers of red darted up to the zenith. There was also a lunar rainbow. The common people were greatly alarmed, for there had been a prediction that the world was coming to an end, and they thought the bright part of the Aurora was a piece of the moon that had already tumbled down! This Aurora was seen in Turkey and in Egypt.
I am deeply grieved and shaken by the death of Sir John Herschel, who, though ten years younger than I am, has gone before me. In him I have lost a dear and affectionate friend, whose advice was invaluable, and his society a charm. None but those who have lived in his home can imagine the brightness and happiness of his domestic life. He never presumed upon that superiority of intellect or the great discoveries which made him one of the most illustrious men of the age; but conversed cheerfully and even playfully on any subject, though ever ready to give information on any of the various branches of science to which he so largely contributed, and which to him were a source of constant happiness. Few of my early friends now remain – I am nearly left alone.
We went to pass the summer and autumn at Sorrento, where we led a very quiet but happy life. The villa we lived in was at a short distance from and above the town, quite buried in groves of oranges and lemons, beyond which lay the sea, generally calm and blue, sometimes stormy; to our left the islands of Ischia and Procida, the Capo Miseno, with Baia, Pozzuoli, and Posilipo; exactly opposite to us, Naples, then Vesuvius, and all the little towns on that coast, and lastly, to our right, this wonderful panorama was bounded by the fine cliffs of the Monte Santangelo. It was beautiful always, but most beautiful when the sun, setting behind Ischia, sent a perfect glory over the rippling sea, and tinged the Monte Santangelo and the cliffs which bound the Piano di Sorrento literally with purple and gold. I spent the whole day on a charming terrace sheltered from the sun, and there we dined and passed the evening watching the lights of Naples reflected in the water and the revolving lights of the different lighthouses. I often drove to Massa till after sunset, for from that road I could see the island of Capri, and I scarcely know a more lovely drive. Besides the books we took with us we had newspapers, reviews, and other periodicals, so that we were never dull. On one occasion my daughters and I made an expedition up the hills to the Deserto, from whence one can see the Gulf of Salerno and the fine mountains of Calabria. My daughters rode and I was carried in a portantina.118 It was fine, clear, autumnal weather, and I enjoyed my expedition immensely, nor was I fatigued.
In November we returned to Naples, where I resumed my usual life. I had received a copy of Hamilton’s° Lectures on Quaternions from the Rev. Whitewell Elwin. I am not acquainted with that gentleman, and am the more grateful to him. I have now a valuable library of scientific books and transactions of scientific societies, the greater part gifts from the authors.
Foreigners were so much shocked at the atrocious cruelty to animals in Italy, that an attempt was made about eight years ago to induce the Italian Parliament to pass a law for their protection, but it failed. As Italy is the only civilised country in Europe in which animals are not protected by law, another attempt is now being made; I have willingly given my name, and I received a kind letter from the Marchioness of Ely, from Rome, to whom I had spoken upon the subject at Naples, telling me that the Princess Margaret, Crown Princess of Italy, had been induced to head the petition. Unless the educated classes take up the cause one cannot hope for much change for a long time. Our friend, Mr Robert Hay, who resided at Rome for many years, had an old horse of which he was very fond, and on leaving Rome asked a Roman prince, who had very large possessions in the Campagna, if he would allow his old horse to end his days on his grassy meadows. ‘Certainly,’ replied the prince, ‘but how can you care what becomes of an animal when he is no longer of use?’ We English cannot boast of humanity, however, as long as our sportsmen find pleasure in shooting down tame pigeons as they fly terrified out of a cage.
I am now in my 92nd year (1872), still able to drive out for several hours; I am extremely deaf, and my memory of ordinary events, and especially of the names of people, is failing, but not for mathematical and scientific subjects. I am still able to read books on the higher algebra for four or five hours in the morning, and even to solve the problems. Sometimes I find them difficult, but my old obstinacy remains, for if I do not succeed to-day, I attack them again on the morrow. I also enjoy reading about all the new discoveries and theories in the scientific world, and on all branches of science.
Sir Roderick Murchison has passed away, honoured by all, and of undying fame; and my amiable friend, almost my contemporary, Professor Sedgwick, has been obliged to resign his chair of Geology at Cambridge, from age, which he had filled with honour during a long life.
[The following letter from her valued friend Professor Sedgwick, in 1869, is the last my mother received from him:—]
FROM PROFESSOR SEDGWICK TO
MRS SOMERVILLE
CAMBRIDGE, April 21st, 1869
MY DEAR MRS SOMERVILLE,
I heard, when I was in London, that you were still in good bodily health, and in full fruition of your great intellectual strength, while breathing the sweet air of Naples. I had been a close prisoner to my college rooms through the past winter and spring; but I broke from my prison-house at the beginning of this month, that I might consult my oculist, and meet my niece on her way to Italy … My niece has for many years (ever since 1840) been my loving companion during my annual turn of residence as canon of Norwich; and she is, and from her childhood has, been to me as a dear daughter. I know you will forgive me for my anxiety to hear from a living witness that you are well and happy in the closing days of your honoured life; and for my longing desire that my beloved daughter (for such I ever regard her) should speak to you face to face, and see (for however short an interview) the Mrs. Somerville, of whom I have so often talked with her in terms of honest admiration and deep regard. The time for the Italian tour is, alas! far too short. But it will be a great gain to each of the party to be allowed, even for a short time, to gaze upon the earthly paradise that is round about you, and to cast one look over its natural wonders and historic monuments … Since you were here, my dear and honoured guest, Cambridge is greatly changed. I am left here like a vessel on its beam ends, to mark the distance to which the current has been drifting during a good many bygone years. I have outlived nearly all my early friends. Whewell, Master of Trinity, was the last of the old stock who was living here. Herschel has not been here for several years. Babbage was here for a day or two during the year before last. The Astronomer-Royal belongs to a more recent generation. For many years long attacks of suppressed gout have made my life very un-productive. I yesterday dined in Hall. It was the first time I was able to meet my brother Fellows since last Christmas day. A long attack of bronchitis, followed by a distressing inflammation of my eyes, had made me a close prisoner for nearly four months. But, thank God, I am again beginning to be cheery, and with many infirmities (the inevitable results of old age, for I have entered on my 85th year) I am still strong in general health, and capable of enjoying, I think as much as ever, the society of those whom I love, be they young or old. May God preserve and bless you; and whensoever it may be His will to call you away to Himself, may your mind be without a cloud and your heart full of joyful Christian hope!
I remain,
My dear Friend,
Faithfully and gratefully yours,
ADAM SEDGWICK
After all the violence and bloodshed of the preceding year, the Thanksgiving of Queen Victoria and the British nation for the recovery of the Prince of Wales will form a striking event in European history. For it was not the congregation in St Paul’s alone, it was the spontaneous gratitude of all ranks and all faiths throughout the three kingdoms that were offered up to God that morning; the people sympathised with their Queen, and no sovereign more deserves sympathy.
Vesuvius has exhibited a considerable activity during the winter and early spring, and frequent streams of lava flowed from the crater, and especially from the small cone to the north, a little way below the principal crater. But these streams were small and intermittent, and no great outbreak was expected. On the 24th April a stream of lava induced us to drive in the evening to Santa Lucia. The next night, Thursday, 25th April, my daughter Martha, who had been to the theatre, wakened me that I might see Vesuvius in splendid eruption. This was at about 1 o’clock on Friday morning. Early in the morning I was disturbed by what I thought loud thunder, and when my maid came at 7 a.m. I remarked that there was a thunderstorm, but she said, ‘No, no: it is the mountain roaring.’ It must have been very loud for me to hear, considering my deafness, and the distance Vesuvius is from Naples, yet it was nothing compared to the noise later in the day, and for many days after. My daughter, who had gone to Santa Lucia to see the eruption better, soon came to fetch me with our friend Mr James Swinton, and we passed the whole day at windows in an hotel at Santa Lucia, immediately opposite the mountain. Vesuvius was now in the fiercest eruption, such as has not occurred in the memory of this generation, lava overflowing the principal crater and running in all directions. The fiery glow of lava is not very visible by daylight; smoke and steam is sent off which rises white as snow, or rather as frosted silver, and the mouth of the great crater was white with the lava pouring over it. New craters had burst out the preceding night, at the very time I was admiring the beauty of the eruption, little dreaming that, of many people who had gone up that night to the Atrio del Cavallo to see the lava (as my daughters had done repeatedly and especially during the great eruption of 1868),119 some forty or fifty had been on the very spot where the new crater burst out, and perished, scorched to death by the fiery vapours which eddied from the fearful chasm. Some were rescued who had been less near to the chasm, but of these none eventually recovered.
Behind the cone rose an immense column of dense black smoke to more than four times the height of the mountain, and spread out at the summit horizontally, like a pine tree, above the silvery stream which poured forth in volumes. There were constant bursts of fiery projectiles, shooting to an immense height into the black column of smoke, and tinging it with a lurid red colour. The fearful roaring and thundering never ceased for one moment, and the house shook with the concussion of the air. One stream of lava flowed towards Torre del Greco, but luckily stopped before it reached the cultivated fields; others, and the most dangerous ones, since some of them came from the new craters, poured down the Atrio del Cavallo, and dividing before reaching the Observatory flowed to the right and to the left – the stream which flowed to the north very soon reached the plain, and before night came on had partially destroyed the small town of Massa di Somma. One of the peculiarities of this eruption was the great fluidity of the lava; another was the never-ceasing thundering of the mountain. During that day we observed several violent explosions in the great stream of lava: we thought from the enormous volumes of black smoke emitted on these occasions that new craters had burst out – some below the level of the Observatory; but that can hardly have been the case. My daughters at night drove to Portici, and went up to the top of a house, where the noise seems to have been appalling; but they told me they did not gain anything by going to Portici, nor did they see the eruption better than I did who remained at Santa Lucia, for you get too much below the mountain on going near. On Sunday, 28th, I was surprised at the extreme darkness, and on looking out of the window saw men walking with umbrellas; Vesuvius was emitting such an enormous quantity of ashes, or rather fine black sand, that neither land, sea, nor sky was visible; the fall was a little less dense during the day, but at night it was worse than ever. Strangers seemed to be more alarmed at this than at the eruption, and certainly the constant loud roaring of Vesuvius was appalling enough amidst the darkness and gloom of the falling ashes. The railroad was crowded with both natives and foreigners, escaping; on the other hand, crowds came from Rome to see the eruption. We were not at all afraid, for we considered that the danger was past when so great an eruption had acted as a kind of safety-valve to the pent-up vapours. But a silly report got about that an earthquake was to take place, and many persons passed the night in driving or walking about the town, avoiding narrow streets. The mountain was quite veiled for some days by vapour and ashes, but I could see the black smoke and silvery mass above it. While looking at this, a magnificent column, black as jet, darted with inconceivable violence and velocity to an immense height; it gave a grand idea of the power that was still in action in the fiery caverns below.
Immense injury has been done by this eruption, and much more would have been done had not the lava flowed to a great extent over that of 1868. Still the streams ran through Massa di Somma, San Sebastiano, and other villages scattered about the country, overwhelming fields, woods, vineyards, and houses. The ashes, too, have not only destroyed this year’s crops, but killed both vines and fruit trees, so that altogether it has been most disastrous. Vesuvius was involved in vapour and ashes till far on in May, and one afternoon at sunset, when all below was in shade, and only a few silvery threads of steam were visible, a column of the most beautiful crimson colour rose from the crater, and floated in the air. Many of the small craters still smoked, one quite at the base of the cone, which is a good deal changed – it is lower, the small northern cone has disappeared, and part of the walls of the crater have fallen in, and there is a fissure in them through which smoke or vapour is occasionally emitted.
On the 1st June we returned to Sorrento, this time to a pretty and cheerful apartment close to the sea, where I led very much the same pleasant life as the year before – busy in the morning with my own studies, and passing the rest of the day on the terrace with my daughters. [2D, 234: It is our habit to be separately occupied during the morning, to meet at dinner and spend the evening together. My daughter Mary draws very cleverly in water-colours and has a remarkably good eye for colour and my eldest daughter Martha has carved a frame in walnut wood for my portrait with great success. It is about six feet high and on the top there is a winged figure playing on the lute. On the flat sides of the frame there are six beautiful heads, in high relief, four are female heads, the other two are young fauns, at the bottom of the frame there is a shield with the Fairfax arms. In the spaces between there are arabesques … The whole is of the natural pale brown colour of the wood.] My daughters brought me beautiful wild flowers from their excursions over the country. Many of the flowers they brought were new to me, and it is a curious fact that some plants which did not grow in this part of the country a few years ago are now quite common. Amongst others, the Trachelium cœruleum,120 a pretty wall-plant, native of Calabria, and formerly unknown here, now clothes many an old wall near Naples, and at Sorrento. The ferns are extremely beautiful here. Besides those common to England, the Pteris cretica grows luxuriantly in the damp ravines, as well as that most beautiful of European ferns, the Woodwardia radicans, whose fronds are often more than six feet long. The inhabitants of Sorrento are very superior to the Neapolitans, both in looks and character; they are cleanly, honest, less cruel to animals, and have pleasant manners – neither too familiar nor cringeing. As the road between Sorrento and Castellamare was impassable, owing to the fall of immense masses of rock from the cliffs above it, we crossed over in the steamer with our servants and our pet birds, for I now have a beautiful long-tailed parroquet called Smeraldo, who is my constant companion and is very familiar. And here I must mention how much I was pleased to hear that Mr Herbert°, M.P., has brought in a bill to protect land birds, which has been passed in Parliament; but I am grieved to find that ‘The lark which at Heaven’s gate sings’ is thought unworthy of man’s protection. Among the numerous plans for the education of the young, let us hope that mercy may be taught as a part of religion.
Though far advanced in years, I take as lively an interest as ever in passing events. I regret that I shall not live to know the result of the expedition to determine the currents of the ocean, the distance of the earth from the sun determined by the transits of Venus, and the source of the most renowned of rivers, the discovery of which will immortalise the name of Dr Livingstone°. But I regret most of all that I shall not see the suppression of the most atrocious system of slavery that ever disgraced humanity – that made known to the world by Dr Livingstone and by Mr Stanley, and which Sir Bartle Frere° has gone to suppress by order of the British Government.
The Blue Peter has been long flying at my foremast, and now that I am in my ninety-second year I must soon expect the signal for sailing. It is a solemn voyage, but it does not disturb my tranquillity. Deeply sensible of my utter un-worthiness, and profoundly grateful for the innumerable blessings I have received, I trust in the infinite mercy of my Almighty Creator. I have every reason to be thankful that my intellect is still unimpaired, and, although my strength is weakness, my daughters support my tottering steps, and, by incessant care and help, make the infirmities of age so light to me that I am perfectly happy.
I have very little more to add to these last words of my Mother’s Recollections. The preceding pages will have given the reader some idea – albeit perhaps a very imperfect one – of her character and opinions. Only regarding her feelings on the most sacred of themes, is it needful for me to say a few words. My mother was profoundly and sincerely religious; hers was not a religion of mere forms and doctrines, but a solemn deeprooted faith which influenced every thought, and regulated every action of her life. Great love and reverence towards God was the foundation of this pure faith, which accompanied her from youth to extreme old age, indeed to her last moments, which gave her strength to endure many sorrows, and was the mainspring of that extreme humility which was so remarkable a feature of her character.
At a very early age she dared to think for herself, fearlessly shaking off those doctrines of her early creed which seemed to her incompatible with the unutterable goodness and greatness of God; and through life she adhered to her simple faith, holding quietly and resolutely to the ultimate truths of religion, regardless alike of the censure of bigots or the smiles of sceptics. The theories of modern science she welcomed as quite in accordance with her religious opinions. She rejected the notion of occasional interference by the Creator with His work, and believed that from the first and invariably He has acted according to a system of harmonious laws, some of which we are beginning faintly to recognise, others of which will be discovered in course of time, while many must remain a mystery to man while he inhabits this world. It was in her early life that the controversy raged respecting the incompatibility of the Mosaic account of Creation, the Deluge, &c., with the revelations of geology. My mother very soon accepted the modern theories, seeing in them nothing in any way hostile to true religious belief. It is singular to recall that her candid avowal of views now so common, caused her to be publicly censured by name from the pulpit of York Cathedral.121 She foresaw the great modifications in opinion which further discoveries will inevitably produce; but she foresaw them without doubt or fear. Her constant prayer was for light and truth, and its full accomplishment she looked for confidently in the life beyond the grave. My mother never discussed religious subjects in general society; she considered them far too solemn to be talked of lightly; but with those near and dear to her, and with very intimate friends, whose opinion agreed with her own, she spoke freely and willingly. Her mind was constantly occupied with thoughts on religion; and in her last years especially she reflected much on that future world which she expected soon to enter, and lifted her heart still more frequently to that good Father whom she had loved so fervently all her life, and in whose merciful care she fearlessly trusted in her last hour.
My mother’s old age was a thoroughly happy one. She often said that not even in the joyous spring of life had she been more truly happy. Serene and cheerful, full of life and activity, as far as her physical strength permitted, she had none of the infirmities of age, except difficulty in hearing, which prevented her from joining in general conversation. She had always been near-sighted, but could read small print with the greatest ease without glasses, even by lamp-light. To the last her intellect remained perfectly unclouded; her affection for those she loved, and her sympathy for all living beings, as fervent as ever; nor did her ardent desire for and belief in the ultimate religious and moral improvement of mankind diminish. She always retained her habit of study, and that pursuit, in which she had attained such excellence and which was always the most congenial to her, – mathematics – delighted and amused her to the end. Her last occupations, continued to the actual day of her death, were the revision and completion of a treatise, which she had written years before, on the ‘Theory of Differences’ (with diagrams exquisitely drawn), and the study of a book on Quaternions. Though too religious to fear death, she dreaded outliving her intellectual powers, and it was with intense delight that she pursued her intricate calculations after her ninetieth and ninety-first years, and repeatedly told me how she rejoiced to find that she had the same readiness and facility in comprehending and developing these extremely difficult formulæ which she possessed when young. Often, also, she said how grateful she was to the Almighty Father who had allowed her to retain her faculties unimpaired to so great an age. God was indeed loving and merciful to her; not only did He spare her this calamity, but also the weary trial of long-continued illness. In health of body and vigour of mind, having lived far beyond the usual span of human life, He called her to Himself. For her Death lost all its terrors. Her pure spirit passed away so gently that those around her scarcely perceived when she left them. It was the beautiful and painless close of a noble and a happy life.
My mother died in sleep on the morning of the 29th Nov., 1872. Her remains rest in the English Campo Santo of Naples.
117 Encke’s comet is a faint comet having the shortest orbital period, 3.3 years. It was the second comet to have its orbital period established and was named after the discoverer of its period, Johann Franz Encke (1791–1865), rather than, as is more usual, the person who first saw it (Pierre Méchan). Encke made his discovery by working out that the comets of 1786, 1795, 1805 and 1818 were all the same comet.
118 A portantina is a kind of sedan chair.
119 There were three episodes of severe eruptions of Vesuvius during Mary Somerville’s Italian period: 1861, 1868 and 1872. All of these concluded in an eruptive stage during which the mouth of the volcano was almost continually open. Although Mary Somerville calls 1868 the ‘great eruption’, 1861 was more severe, but the Somervilles were not in the Naples area at the time. In 1861 there were several days of violent shuddering after the eruptions, accompanied by dull roaring sounds. The town of Torre del Greco was severely damaged. The 1872 eruptions went through similar stages to 1861 but without, as Mary Somerville says, the same damage to Torre del Greco, which had been rebuilt in the interim. Accounts of the 1872 eruption remark the destruction of Massa di Somma and the adjacent San Sebastiano and the fate of the unfortunate sightseers.
120 Trachelium cæruleum is a member of the Campanula genus. Popularly known as throatwort, it is supposed to be good for afflictions of the neck.
121 Mary Somerville was denounced by the Rev. William Cockburn (1773–1858) in the course of his long-running attack on the new geologists, whose discoveries threatened fundamental readings of the Bible (EP, p. 53).