Every Saturday evening a reception was held at the home of Baron Cuvier, and there one was sure to meet the most brilliant and learned from all parts of Europe, whether rich or poor....
Cuvier delighted everybody by his courtesy and his cordiality. Another person also was the life of these gatherings,--his beautiful daughter Clementine, his only remaining child. Never strong in body, she had been reared with the tenderest care. Devoted to all good work, reading to aged women, visiting the poor, educated, and of extreme loveliness of character, she was the idol of her family and of society. On the 25th of August, 1828, she was to have been married, but, while in the midst of the preparations, she fell ill of consumption, and died the following month, September 28.
The effect on both parents was crushing. Cuvier's light hair grew white, and lines gathered in his face. After two months he took his place again at the head of the Committee of the Interior. He listened attentively to all the discussions, but when it came his turn to speak, he burst into tears, and covered his bowed face in his hands, and sobbed bitterly. Finally he raised his head and said, "Pardon me, gentlemen, I was a father, and I have lost all!" and then with a violent effort he resumed the business of the day, with his usual calmness.
He devoted himself now more than ever to his books, as though he must use every moment, or be prostrated with grief. This same year, 1828, the first book in a series of twenty volumes, beautifully illustrated, appeared, on the "Natural History of Fishes, containing more than five thousand species of those animals, described after nature, and distributed according to their affinities, with observations on their anatomy, and critical researches on their nomenclature, ancient as well as modern."
In 1832, he was created a Peer of France, by Louis Philippe. Every honor had come that could be asked or desired. His books were eagerly read; crowds attended his lectures; he was loved, honored, and revered; but death had robbed him of the sweetest things in life.
On Tuesday, May 8, 1832, he lectured as usual before the Collège de France, on the "History and Progress of Science in all Ages." In the evening he felt a numbness in his right arm. It was the beginning of the end. Paralysis soon developed.