THE LIFE OF CUVIER.
The union of zoology and comparative anatomy, and the
examination and study of fossil remains.
George Léopold Chretien Fréderic Dagobert Cuvier was born at Montbéliard,
in the Department du Doubs, a town which was subsequently united to
France, although at the time of Cuvier’s birth it belonged to the kingdom
of Wurtemberg. He was born on August 23rd, 1769. His family originally
came from a village in the Jura mountains, which still bears the name
of Cuvier; but, becoming the victims of religious persecution, they
were obliged to leave and to go to reside at Montbéliard at the time
of the Reformation. Cuvier’s grandfather had two sons, one celebrated
for his learning, and the other belonging to a Swiss regiment in the
French service. The soldier, after forty years’ service, retired on a
small pension to Montbéliard, where he was appointed commandant of
the artillery of the town. He was made Chevalier de l’Ordre Merite
Militaire, which, among Protestants, was equal to the Catholic order of
the Croix de St. Louis. The old soldier married, late in life, a young
and highly accomplished lady, by whom he had three sons. The eldest
died a short time before the birth of the second, who is the subject of
this biography, and who was extremely delicate. The mother, sad at the
death of her firstborn, took the curious fancy of calling her little
weak second child by the name of George, which was that of her firstborn
also. Cuvier was not baptized with that name, although he ever used it
in deference to his mother; but in after years, when legal difficulties
presented themselves, he took the necessary measures to have a right
to use the name. Feeble in constitution, the child required all the
attention of his mother, and he never forgot her loving care. She taught
him carefully and well during his early years, and the child grew strong
and able. He could read fluently at the age of four years, and when
the time came for him to be placed at school, the mother went over his
exercises at night, and by her good knowledge of Latin enabled him to be
better prepared than any other boy in the school, for his daily tasks.
She taught him drawing, and this necessary art was subsequently taught
Cuvier by an architect in the town. At the age of ten years he was placed
at a school of a higher description of teaching, called the Gymnase,
where he remained until he was fourteen. Cuvier made rapid progress
at this school, and he was constantly at the head of his classes, and
he became a fair classic. It was at that time that the future great
zoologist began to like natural history, and he began by studying
animals. One of his relations had a complete copy of Buffon’s works,
and the boy’s study of it was constant. He copied the plates of animals
and birds, and coloured them according to the printed descriptions, and
when he could not use water-colours, employed pieces of coloured silk
to denote the tints of the wings. When he was able to borrow the book,
a volume was his constant attendant, and he read the work over and
over again. About this time, Cuvier, being the leading spirit in the
school, began to collect his schoolfellows and to get them to discuss
the merits of books on natural history, philosophy, and travels, etc.,
taking the chair as president. The assembly must have been amusing in the
extreme, and these little “prigs” doubtless expressed their opinions very
decidedly. Cuvier managed to teach himself to speak in public, however,
and was not a bad hand at declamation. So, on the anniversary fête of the
Duke of Wurtemberg, he composed an oration in verse on the prosperous
state of the principality, and delivered it, fresh from his pen, in
a manly tone which astonished the audience. Nevertheless, Cuvier was
snubbed by his master, who put him down to the third place, giving the
palm to two other boys. It is said that there was some favouritism in
this affair; but it was a blow to the boy, whose future career depended
on the place he might take at the school on the occasion. Nevertheless,
as things turned out, Cuvier had every reason to be very thankful. The
fame of the young student, and his disappointment, reached the ears of
Duke Charles by means of the princess, his sister-in-law, and when he
visited Montbéliard he saw Cuvier, and asked him questions and looked
at his drawings. The duke, satisfied that he had a good subject before
him, agreed to send him to Stuttgart to the university, where the youth
would be well educated, free of expense, in the duke’s own academy. At
this academy the pupils were instructed in every branch of knowledge that
was actually useful to men destined to govern and direct the affairs
of communities, and many who were educated there, became members of
the various courts of Germany and Russia. The school had a military
character, the scholars wearing uniforms and being under the orders of a
colonel and major; but the education was not military, and such men as
Schiller were taught there.
At the age of fourteen Cuvier quitted his home to go to this school, and
under circumstances enough to frighten any schoolboy. He travelled with
the chamberlain and secretary of the duke, sitting between them without
understanding a word they said, as they spoke German the whole time.
He always remembered this journey and its miseries. The youth quickly
made himself comfortable at the academy, and his really good training
soon placed him high amongst his fellows. For four years he studied all
that was taught in the higher classes, mathematics, law, administration,
tactics, and commerce, and obtaining various prizes, was made, with five
or six others out of the four hundred, to belong to a class bearing the
order of “Chevalerie.” These youths were under the immediate patronage
of the duke, and had privileges besides that of dining at a separate
table. Nine months after his arrival at Stuttgart, Cuvier gained the
prize in German. But all this time Cuvier led a second life. Out in the
fields and in the museum he was supremely happy. Collecting, observing,
drawing, and describing were his occupations in his leisure hours, and
his drawings of birds, insects, and plants were very excellent and
correct. All the books he could get on natural history he read, and the
works of Linnæus were especially learned with zeal. At the end of his
academical career Cuvier was promised a place in the administration of
the country, and if he had got it probably he would have become a kind
of civil service clerk, and have never been heard of. But trouble came,
and that of the bitterest kind for a rising young man. Circumstances
against which he could not bear up necessitated his seeking a totally
different kind of employment. The unsettled state of money and finance
in France caused Cuvier’s father’s pension to be withheld, and the young
man, very properly desiring to be no burthen to his parents, gave up
all hopes of political distinction, and accepted the modest position of
tutor to a French family, that of M. d’Hericy, at Caen, in Normandy. He
was to educate the only son; and so, without bewailing his lot, which was
thought a very sad one by his companions and admirers, Cuvier settled
down to work and found that he was in the very position for using those
remarkable powers as a naturalist, which determined his future career.
The sea was close by, and Cuvier began to study the marine animals. After
some time some fossils were discovered at Fécamp, and Cuvier began to
compare them with the living things which most resembled them. Then the
accidental discovery of a calamary led him to study the higher mollusca,
or shell-fish. Cuvier also began to study the huge class of vermes, or
worms, in which Linnæus had included a vast number of lower animals, and
which Lamarck subsequently investigated. Cuvier examined the anatomy
of the groups, and arranged them according to their resemblances in
structure. This was an excellent piece of work, and it was done for
the purposes of self-instruction, and not for fame. Nevertheless, the
manuscript was full of good observations and of new truths. Whilst
Cuvier was thus employed, and the time was that of the reign of
terror, a society was formed at Valmont, in his neighbourhood, for the
encouragement of agriculture. L’Abbé Teissier had sought at the place a
refuge from the persecutions of the revolutionists of Paris, and under
the disguise of a surgeon attended the meetings. On one occasion Cuvier
was struck with the manner of speaking of the worthy old man, and thought
that it resembled the writings of the well-known Abbé. Inadvertently
Cuvier addressed him as L’Abbé, and this gave at first great alarm. He
found in Cuvier, however, a great admirer and a generous friend, and was
so pleased with his talents and industry, that he afterwards wrote to the
celebrated botanist, Jussieu, as follows: “At the sight of this young
man, I experienced the delight of the philosopher who was thrown on an
unknown shore, and saw traced there the figures of geometry. M. Cuvier
is a violet which was concealed among common herbs. He knows much, and
draws figures for your work. I doubt your finding a more able person for
comparative anatomy, for he demonstrates with much method and clearness.
It is a pearl worthy of being gathered by you. I contributed to draw M.
Delarbre from his retreat, help me to draw M. Cuvier from his; he is made
for science and the world.”
Cuvier was, in consequence, asked to read some of his essays to the
Society of Natural History at Paris, and these gave such satisfaction
that he was invited to take a position at the Jardin des Plantes. This
occurred in 1795, and Cuvier was then twenty-six years of age. He was
thus settled for life in the very position he desired, for although
called the garden of plants, a grand museum of the comparative anatomy
of animals was to rise there under the superintendence of the young man.
He was soon made professor at the central school of the Pantheon, and
began to write capital manuals of his subject for the students. The next
year the National Institute was formed, and Cuvier was one of its first
members. At this time his knowledge of zoology was very great, and he had
more than the usual amount of information about the internal anatomy of
the different great groups of animals. He published an elementary title
or scheme of the natural history of animals, and gradually the collection
of skeletons began to be great in his establishment. Cuvier paid great
attention to the relative shapes, and different developments of the same
kind of bones in various animals, and especially to the nature of their
teeth. So great did his experience and correct knowledge become, that he
rarely failed in naming an animal from part of its skeleton. This power
impressed Cuvier with the idea of a philosophy in nature, and with the
evidence of creative design and purpose, of means for ends. But this kind
of study led to some very remarkable results. Had it influenced Cuvier
as it previously had zoologists, he would have still become the most
accomplished and important naturalist of this century. It would have been
said, as it may well be, that he established the study of animals on a
firm basis, and that his natural classification has lasted, because he
considered not only the outsides of animals, but also the importance of
their most peculiar organs, in arranging them into groups, or separating
them from others. But Cuvier had seen and studied the bones and skulls of
animals which had been dug out of the earth in a mineralized condition.
The strata at Montmartre, near Paris, had yielded a great number of
bones, which presented some resemblances to those of animals still living
but which were clearly not the bones of any existing genera or species.
Comparative anatomy was made to connect the past and present animals,
and to indicate the possibility of all the past and present creation
being placed in one great classification. As Cuvier progressed in this
study, he endeavoured to restore, and with considerable success, the
extinct animal’s shape, to discover its habits and method of life, and to
find out its nearest modern ally. Palæontology, or the study of extinct
animals, is under the greatest obligations to this great Frenchman, and
it may be called the zoology of the past ages of the earth. He did not,
however, forget his one great desire, which was to form a perfect book
on comparative anatomy, and one in which all animals would find a place,
called “La Règne Animal.” (The animal kingdom.)
As soon as Cuvier found himself well established as assistant to M.
Mertrud, the professor of comparative anatomy to the Jardin des Plantes,
he sent for his old father, then eighty years of age, and for his
brother, M. F. Cuvier, to live with him. The first thing he did was
to collect all the available specimens of bones and preparations of
animals, and he found many hidden away in vaults and which had been
collected by Daubenton and Buffon. Other specimens were obtained, and
thus the great collection was commenced. In 1796, Cuvier discovered
the curious fact that there is naturally red blood in leeches, and in
the following year he read a famous paper on the nutrition of insects.
Refusing to go to Egypt, as he had his proper work to do at home, for
his pupils Dumeril and Duvernoy were working hard for and with him,
dissecting and describing, the result was the publication of the first
volume of the lessons on comparative anatomy already alluded to. This
led to Cuvier being made professor of natural history to the College
of France. Of the young professor’s ability there could be no doubt,
and everybody was struck with the excellent method of his lectures and
books. His mind was essentially an orderly and very contemplative and
reasoning one, and his fame soon reached the ears of Napoleon, then first
consul. He made Cuvier one of the six inspectors general of education
who were to found public schools in some thirty towns in France and what
are now called Royal Colleges. Cuvier founded those of Bordeaux, Nice,
and Marseilles. In this last-mentioned place he continued his work on
marine animals. Whilst Cuvier was performing these very important duties
for the state, with great benefit to the towns and credit to himself,
he was chosen to be one of the perpetual secretaries to the National
Institute, and had a salary given to him for it of two hundred guineas
a year. Although this sum was to be well earned, and the secretary had
to receive distinguished foreigners at table, a fuss was made about it.
Cuvier, however, knew his own value, and insisted on retaining it. The
labourer is worthy of his hire, and the sum was less than the salary
of a first-class clerk. A great Italian politician once said keep the
professors poor. Why? Because he knew that the diffusion of liberal
knowledge would be fatal to civil and military tyranny. However, Cuvier
gave up his school inspectorship and laboured on at his favourite
studies. He lost his father and his brother’s wife died leaving a child,
so that Cuvier and his brother were alone. Marriage became a necessity
for the rising man, and he was attracted by a lady of great merit, who
had suffered both poverty and misfortune. Madame Duvancel was the widow
of an official who perished on the scaffold in 1794, and she had some
children of her own. Cuvier had a great affection for her and she made
him happy, was a great companion, and when he rose to his greatness,
she was an admirable helpmate. In 1808, as secretary to the National
Institute, Cuvier had to write a report on the progress of the natural
sciences from the year 1789. A mere report was required, but Cuvier was
too thorough, and his essay was an admirable and most lucid treatise.
Napoleon, then emperor, was greatly struck with it, and presented
the paper to the council of state. Some of the sentences should be
written in letters of gold in every senate and learned by heart by all
politicians. “The true object of science is to lead the mind of man
towards its noble destination—a knowledge of truth—to spread sound and
useful ideas among the lowest classes of the people, to draw human
beings from the effects of prejudices and passions, to make reason the
arbitrator and supreme guide of public opinion.” Napoleon, who nearly
always chose the best men for a place, made Cuvier a counsellor of the
new Imperial University, and the two men thus came frequently in contact.
Repeated personal interviews preceded Cuvier’s appointment to organize
new universities in the foreign states more or less under the sway of
France. He undertook the reorganization of the old Italian universities
of Piedmont, Genoa, and Tuscany. His reports of these missions speak of
the enlightenment of his mind and his truly reasonable and very liberal
spirit. Speaking of the universities of Tuscany, he deprecates a too
hasty and rash interference with institutions which had been founded and
maintained by so many distinguished men of old and in which he found so
much to praise and to retain. He made good use of his time in Tuscany by
taking drawings of and collecting fossil bones, and in 1811 his great
work on the fossil remains of animals appeared. He examined into the
condition of the universities of Holland, and finally those of lower
Germany. These journeys were doubly useful, for they established his
health and gave him plenty of opportunity of visiting museums. While at
Hamburg, Napoleon gave him the title of chevalier, which was confirmed
to him and his heirs. But such honours were not destined to descend,
for Cuvier lost his son in his seventh year. It was a great grief, and
it saddened and subdued the man. This trial happened when Cuvier was at
Rome, trying to arrange the universities there. Being a Protestant, the
mission was one requiring peculiar forbearance and firmness. Yet the
enlightened tolerance of Cuvier, and his mild and benignant manners,
gained for him the esteem and respect of all parties. Risen from the
ranks, having been poor and often anxious to know how to learn, Cuvier
was a capital man for his position. He paid particular attention not only
to the higher branches of education, but also to popular or elementary
education. His principle was that instruction would lead to civilization,
and civilization to morality, and therefore that primary or elementary
instruction should give to the people every means of fully exercising
their industry, without disgusting them with their condition. That
secondary instruction should expand the mind, without rendering it false
or presumptuous; and that special or scientific instruction should give
to France magistrates, advocates, generals, clergy, professors and other
men of learning. He taught—“give schools before political rights; make
citizens comprehend the duties that the state of society imposes on
them; teach them what are political rights before you offer them for
their enjoyment, and then all amelioration will be made without causing
a shock. Imitate nature, which in the development of beings acts by
gradation, and gives time to every member to arrive at perfection.”
Napoleon had great confidence in Cuvier, and wished to make him tutor
to his son, and ordered him to draw up a list of books as a preliminary
step. In 1814 he made him a councillor of state, and Louis XVIII.
confirmed him in the appointment subsequently.
Cuvier wrote in early life, on living and fossil elephants, the different
species of rhinoceros, the structure of ascidians, and the anatomy of
bivalve molluscs. Later on he described the crocodilians of the old and
new world and the fossil tapirs of France. Subsequently to 1801 he read
memoirs on the teeth of fish, on the worms, the anatomy of the mollusca,
the comparative anatomy and classification of fishes, the fossil mammals
and reptiles, and the bony structures of these last two groups. Most of
these works were the joint productions of other very distinguished men
and himself. Thus the work on fishes, which contained descriptions of no
less than five thousand kinds, was by Cuvier and Valenciennes. Year after
year Cuvier added to the store of knowledge he was so anxious to give to
the history of the earth, and his descriptions, monuments of exactitude,
of the fossil kinds of rhinoceros, hyænæ, and of some of the great
sloths, were the result of his careful examination of the living species
of the genera or families which were found fossil. We owe to Cuvier the
truth that ancient forms of life, the bones and teeth of which alone
remain, and which were buried by nature formerly, can be “restored.” That
is to say, by taking the existing or modern example, and by reasoning
upon the nature of the teeth, claws, hoofs, and horns present or absent,
the nature, shape and destiny of the ancient animal can be given to the
world at the present time.
After the abdication of Napoleon and the defeat at Waterloo, it became
necessary, in the ideas of Louis XVIII., that the universities should be
remodelled, and a committee of public instruction was created to exercise
the powers formerly belonging to the grand master, the council, and the
treasurer of the University. Cuvier was one of the committee, and was
made chancellor of the University, a position which he retained until
his death under most trying circumstances. No man did greater or better
and more lasting work for state education than Cuvier. His heart was in
the work of education; he had nothing but mental progress to desire; and
it was a much more satisfactory thing for France to have a renowned,
scientific man at the head of a great university, who, moreover, really
controlled the education of the country, than to have had such important
offices held by mere politicians and soldiers.
In 1817 Cuvier published a second edition of his “Fossil Bones,” and the
great book, the “Règne Animal” (the “Animal Kingdom”), was re-issued.
In this last work Cuvier immortalized himself; and his classification
has been of the greatest possible value to his successors. He reduced
the six classes of animals which had been suggested by the ancients and
Linnæus, namely, quadrupeds, birds, reptiles, fishes, insects, and worms,
to four, or vertebrated animals (animals with backbones), molluscous
animals (such as snails and oysters), articulated animals (insects and
crabs), and radiated animals (such as corals and sea anemones). Although
this classification has become modified, still Cuvier gave the method of
true classification in animals. One or two points or peculiarities were
not to be considered at the expense of others which belonged to organs
of great importance to the animal. He asserted that all the structures
of the animal must be studied, and physiology as well as anatomy must be
considered. The most important structures must be considered first of
all, and the grand divisions of classification must rest upon them. In
the “Règne Animal” Cuvier commences with man, whom he places in a genus
by himself, and recognizes only one species diversified by varieties or
races. In 1818 Cuvier visited London, and remained there for about six
weeks, receiving every scientific and social honour. He mixed freely in
scientific society, and was received by George IV. On being consulted
by his Majesty about our national collections, he said that if all the
British private collections could be collected into one, they would
form a great national museum which would surpass every other. Cuvier
was greatly interested in the freedom of English politics; and on the
election for Westminster taking place he went on to the hustings. He
was intensely amused at the speeches and the violence of the mob, who
pelted their political opponents after the fashion of the day with bad
eggs, dead cats, cabbages, and mud. He went to Oxford, and then all the
party were invited to Windsor. Sir Joseph Banks asked everybody in the
scientific world to meet Cuvier, and Sir Everard Home also. The great
naturalist, once a half-starved student and a tutor, became the guest
of the most honoured amongst men, and was very sensible of the kindness
shown him. He could not, however, reconcile himself to the long dinners
and long sittings at table, which were then, as now, fashionable in
England. Not only did Cuvier study the national and private natural
history collections in this country, but he also paid much attention to
the system of education and to the nature of our political constitution.
Returning to Paris, Cuvier was elected a member of the Académie
Française, and in the following year was made president of the Comité
de l’Interieur, and created a baron. He resigned his temporary grand
mastership of the University, so as to accept without salary the grand
mastership of the Faculties of Protestant Theology, and vice-president of
the Bible Society.
In 1824, as president of the Comité, or one of the councils of state,
Cuvier took part in the coronation of Charles X., on which occasion he
was made grand master of the Legion of Honour. In 1827 he was appointed
censor of the press, an office which his love of liberty of thought soon
made him resign. Sacrificing all his leisure to the greater educational
matters, and ever labouring at science, Cuvier also formed a great
library, which was always open to naturalists who desired to visit
and use it. Cuvier’s orderly and critical mind enabled him to fulfil
the office of secretary to the institute with great success; and he
especially shone in writing the interesting lives of the distinguished
men who died during each year. Moreover, he reported on each memoir
which was submitted to the institute for reading and publication. Cuvier
was great as a public lecturer, and had a flexible and sonorous voice,
which resounded far and wide in the room. His audiences were always
enthusiastic; and many a student waited long to get a good seat before
the professor began. He taught, chalk in hand, and drew well on the black
board, his artistic power remaining to the last.
Cuvier came to England a second time, and it is tolerably clear that it
was to escape the inevitable revolution which was caused by the tyranny
of Charles X. and his advisers. His carriage passed out of Paris, and
five hours afterwards firing began, which led to the dethronement of the
king and the restoration of liberty. In London Cuvier used to enjoy the
political and other caricatures in the shops, and loved to go down to
such places as Richmond to see the scenery.
After a six weeks’ visit, Cuvier returned to Paris, and occupied his
former positions and dignities.
Cuvier was slightly built in his young days, and moderately tall; but
the sedentary nature of his work and his carelessness about taking
proper exercise, produced corpulence in his later years, and his extreme
near-sightedness brought on a slight stoop in his shoulders. His hair
had been light in colour, and to the last it flowed in fine curls over
one of the noblest heads ever seen. He was handsome and had regular
features, with an aquiline nose, a broad forehead, and keen eyes. The
love of order, which was his very peculiarity in his work, was seen in
little things, for Cuvier was almost feminine in his attention to dress.
He even took in hand the costume of the University, and designed the
embroidery of his court suits. Cuvier’s manners were dignified and yet
not ceremonious; for accustomed to mingle with the highest of all classes
and countries, and naturally desirous of paying a just tribute of respect
and good will to everybody, he was likely to be generally polished
and courteous. He was stately enough sometimes, and his reserve with
strangers who were not open with him was mainly—as is usually the case
with others—from mere shyness and timidity. To the young he was always
kind and sympathizing. When at the Institute Cuvier’s manner was always
stately, for he was with his peers there, and perhaps he might have
occasionally felt it necessary to retain an appearance of reserve during
the sometimes not very scientific discussions of that mixed assemblage.
Cuvier, notwithstanding his great patience when he was at work, and his
singular placidity when on the face of a difficult point in natural
history or anatomy, was what is called a “Turk” at home, and with others.
Accustomed to most minute exactitude, and to regulate his hands by his
rapidly working brain, he was singularly impatient with other people who
had to serve under him. He used to hasten his workmen, so that his orders
were often performed with difficulty. He was hard to bear with, and any
waste of time the result of carelessness, put him in a rage. Anything
wrong at table in his house, to be kept waiting, or some trifling
disobedience, would rouse an absurd amount of anger. His irritability was
excessive, and he frequently forgot himself in his scoldings, and had
to make reparation afterwards. But he was always ready to testify that
he had been wrong, and to do his best to make amends; nevertheless, he
did not improve in this particular, and he never had great control over
his feelings. No labour, however minute and prolonged, irritated him
when he believed that it was requisite for the attainment of an object;
still he could not listen to a few pages of a book which taught nothing,
without expressing himself very decidedly. From what has been written of
Cuvier’s domestic life, it could not have been very enjoyable by those
around him, and yet it was the kind of life which has to be led by most
prominent men in science, art, and literature. Work, everlasting work,
with but little relaxation. He certainly wasted no time. Before and after
breakfast he saw anybody who wished to have an audience of him. By seven
in the morning he was dressed, and began preparing his day’s work and
that of his assistants, so that by ten o’clock, when he breakfasted, he
had time to look at the newspapers, to read correspondence, and look over
any particular works. After breakfast he dressed for the day and began
work. His carriage was punctual to a moment, and no one was allowed to
keep him waiting. When the ladies were to accompany him, they made a
point of being as exact to time as was possible; and he seems to have
enjoyed the sight of his womankind rushing downstairs with their shawls
streaming after them and their gloves half on their hands. The instant
he had given his orders he would thrust himself into a corner of the
carriage and set to work reading, but suffered the ladies to talk as much
as they pleased. The family dinner hour was half-past six; and if Cuvier
had a few moments to spare before that time, he would occasionally join
his friends in Madame Cuvier’s room, but more frequently he seems to have
given even this short time to study. One or two intimate friends joined
the circle at dinner, and then Cuvier’s conversation was delightful. On
proceeding to the drawing-room Cuvier sometimes gratified his friends by
an hour’s stay amongst them before he retired to his occupation or his
visits, but so untiring was his industry, that he often set the whole
party to work aiding him in his researches. If he had any foreign works
he would often amuse his friends by verifying the figures in them, one
after the other. It must be said that this everlasting work was trying
to people who were with Cuvier, for no sooner did friends come to stay
with him than he began to use them in tracing drawings on paper. He
kept them at work, for when he returned from his labours he generally
asked for the tasks he had thus set. Nevertheless, many found it a real
pleasure to work for him, for he was very grateful for such assistance.
Cuvier’s hours of relaxation were few. Change of employment afforded
him relief, and conversation still greater. At the close of the day’s
labour, when he found it impossible to work any longer, he was accustomed
to throw himself on a sofa, hide his eyes from the light, and listen to
the reading of his wife or daughter, and sometimes of his secretary, M.
Laurillard. These nightly readings lasted two hours, and thus Cuvier
became more or less acquainted with the current literature and good works
of the day. Very likely he did not listen, and went to sleep, but that is
not stated of him by those who wrote his domestic habits.
Cuvier was so downright that he did not like any one who indulged in
satire, or who ridiculed the conduct of others. He never did this sort
of thing, and he carefully discouraged it in those about him, even when
embellished with sallies of wit and drollery, and his rebukes to those
who indulged in sarcasm were accompanied by a sharpness of expression
generally very unusual to him. He bore but little malice, and it is said
that the annoyances and disappointments of his public career left no
trace of bitterness of spirit; and he was always willing to lay the fault
on the ignorance rather than on the bad feeling of the offenders.
When in the full swing of his career, Cuvier gave very interesting
_soirées_ on Saturday evenings, and it is said that they were the most
brilliant and interesting meetings of their kind in Paris. They were
much frequented by the scientific world of the time, and the rooms were
as much open to the prince as to the last young student who had just
begun to study natural history. In this society Cuvier was an amusing
conversationalist, a great asker of questions; and as he could talk
well on a variety of subjects, he made his guests at home, and gave
the meetings a character for freedom of expression of opinion. A light
repast concluded the evening, and a select few remained to partake of
it. The chat was amusing, curiosities were shown about, and the last
anecdotes about nature and the newest ideas were shown and considered,
and, reserving himself to the last, Cuvier would relate something that
crowned the whole; and all around were struck by the occasional complete
change given to the train of thought, or were forced to join in a general
shout of laughter. The period of these brilliant _soirées_ was that of
the prime of the lovely daughter who was so fondly loved by Cuvier. A
perfect lady, of great grace and goodness, was Clementine Cuvier. She was
a highly-gifted girl, and her resemblance to her father was remarkable.
She had a delicate constitution, and gradually faded away, dying of rapid
consumption at last amidst the joyful preparations for her marriage. A
great change then took place in Cuvier, who mourned his daughter greatly.
Society was given up for a long time, and when the evening meetings
were resumed, the life of them seemed to be gone, and the dejection of
Madame Cuvier added to the feeling. After the death of his own daughter,
Cuvier became more than ever attached to his step-daughter, and his
care and anxiety on her account manifested itself on all occasions.
If she were ill he would be up and down stairs over and over again,
and worried himself about even the most trivial symptoms. Although
so greatly occupied and so often absorbed in scientific pursuits, he
never neglected the opportunity of doing good in his way. His private
charities were large and well bestowed. His purse was ever open to the
needy and unfortunate of all countries and stations, and the miserable
inhabitants of the dens of Paris and the modest student struggling under
adversity were alike the recipients of his bounty. Many hotels in the
neighbourhood of the colleges and institutions had students in them,
living in the top stories, who were so poor that they had to subscribe
to get a book or two between them. They would occasionally be surprised
by a visit from their great teacher. He came to offer, with the greatest
courtesy, the assistance he knew they required; and if they were ill he
did not rest satisfied until he had obtained advice and nourishment for
them. Himself keenly alive to the slightest rudeness or neglect, and
grateful for the smallest proof of affection, he knew how to give, not
only with a liberal hand, but with a delicacy which never wounded the
most sensitive temper. The year 1832 was a melancholy one for Paris; for
political disturbances and cholera prevailed. The disease raged around
Cuvier’s neighbourhood, and he saw many cut off from it in the midst of
their youth and strength. At this time he gave up his evening visits and
the few relaxations he permitted himself to enjoy. Secluding himself
from society, except that of his own family, he had no sooner performed
his daily routine of public duties than he returned to his studies with
a zeal and closeness of application that was doubtless injurious to
his health, though he himself said that he had never worked with such
enjoyment. On Tuesday, May 8th, he opened the third and concluding part
of his course of lectures at the College of France on the history of
science, and it was his last discourse. Strangely enough, it was as if
it were to be his last, so impressive, so grandly comprehensive, was
the diction; and he treated the subject in a manner which proved that he
had been thinking much about the mysterious and supernatural environment
which most men of great experience can recognize in nature. Cuvier in
this lecture dealt with the meaning of the changes which had occurred on
the surface of the earth in relation to the succession of animals and
plants on the globe and the present creation. He stated the manner in
which he proposed to view the present in relation to the past, a task
which was to lead his hearers, independently of narrow systems, back to
that supreme intelligence which rules, enlightens, and vivifies, and
which gives to every creature the especial conditions of its existence.
He noticed how each being contains in itself an infinite variety, an
admirable arrangement for the purposes for which it was intended: that
each being is good, perfect, and capable of life, according to its order
and species, and in its individuality. He concluded by saying, “These
will be the objects of our future investigations, if time, health, and
strength are given to me to continue and to finish them with you.” The
lecture hall was slowly left by Cuvier’s hearers and students, and an
undefined sadness seemed to weigh upon his late hearers, who seemed to
linger with the impression that his days were numbered. On the evening of
the same day, Cuvier felt some pain in his right arm, which was supposed
to proceed from rheumatism. The next morning he presided over the
Committee of the Interior with his usual ability and activity; but at
dinner that day he felt some difficulty in swallowing, and the numbness
in the arm increased. When he felt himself thus ill, in order to take
away the attention of Madame Cuvier, he said, “I must eat more soup,”
swallowing bread even being impossible. Advice was sought, but during
the next day both arms became paralyzed, and the swallowing was worse.
He made his will with perfect calmness, and it evinced the tenderest
solicitude for those whose cares and affections had comforted his life,
and for those who had aided him most in his scientific labours. He could
not sign the will, but it was attested by four witnesses. Convinced that
all human skill was in vain, he nevertheless submitted to treatment by
his medical men. Paralysis crept on, and the legs were attacked, his
speech was affected, and he muttered, “It is the nerves of volition
that are affected.” He spoke of his last lecture, and said to a friend
who called, “Behold a very different person to the man of Tuesday;
nevertheless I had great things still to do. All was ready in my head,
after thirty years of labour and research; there remained but to write,
and now the hands fail and carry with them the head.” Cuvier gradually
sank, but kept his intelligence nearly to the last. It was his wish to
be buried privately, interred in the cemetery of Père le Chaise, under
the tombstone which covered his beloved child; but it was not possible to
avoid the public demonstration of respect. The funeral procession was
followed by the representatives of all the great learned bodies of France.
Cuvier was too generous, and too desirous for the advancement of his
branch of natural history knowledge, to die very rich. He had several
important sources of income, and there is no doubt that, had he chosen
so to do, he could have saved much money. He spent largely when it was
necessary to procure specimens from abroad, and to dig out fossils at
home, and his private charities were numerous. He only left about the
sum of four thousand pounds sterling, a library worth about the same
sum, and a house for his family. There is no doubt that Cuvier was, in
his private life, a very estimable man, and that in his public life he
upheld the teachings of his conscience to his disadvantage. It was to be
expected that a man whose work proved the great antiquity of the kinds
of animals now living on the surface of the earth, and the existence of
a great philosophy in nature which linked the past and present animals
in a scheme which showed that life had been continuous for ages, would
be abused and called an atheist by some ignorant people or other. His
true character has been written as follows:—“He promoted the cause of
true religion by every means in his power, both public and private; he
was a warm supporter of the Bible Society, and caused the Old and New
Testaments to be widely disseminated in every part of Protestant France.
In his letters to the heads of colleges and masters of schools, he
strongly recommended them to teach for the love of God, himself pointing
out their duties according to that great rule. He adhered consistently
and persistently to the Protestant faith, when it was well known that
a change to the Roman Catholic would have been the surest step to the
attainment of the highest honours in the state. He caused a number of
chapels to be established, in order to give facility for attending
divine worship; and he never would receive a salary for attending and
administering to the interests of the Protestant religion. He discharged
faithfully all the duties of his office, with a zeal which showed that
he had a much higher motive than that of gain or reputation. Humility
and forgiveness marked his character; he was thankful for the correction
of errors; he gloried as much in the discoveries of another as his own;
and in the triumph of joint labours, unhesitatingly gave the preference
to his colleague. He suffered his servants to expostulate with him,
and the very nature of his amusements was social and cheerful. He felt
ingratitude keenly, and also unkindness and injustice, but they made
him sad rather than angry. His antagonists openly indulged in the most
irritating and violent taunts, or secretly intrigued against him; the
former never excited him beyond a clear, firm, and dignified reply, wrung
from him only when reply was absolutely necessary; and the latter nothing
but candid remonstrances. To these high attributes we may add charity.
The failings of others were never trumpeted forth by Cuvier; he did not
even tolerate playful satire, however disguised by wit; his earnest
desire was to make all happy around him, even by a sacrifice of his
own convenience; and his resignation was great, under calamities which
bereaved him of the dearest objects of his affection; all these things
appear to establish his character as a Christian.”
The character of Cuvier was hardly equal to this panegyric, for he held
his own boldly enough, and faced his enemies with no feeble humility;
moreover, the details of his everyday life prove that he was sufficiently
exacting, and that everything had to give way to his will. Nevertheless,
it is true that that will was to advance knowledge in the right
direction, and that it was stimulated by an earnest desire for truth.
Men like Cuvier are very apt to be misunderstood by their most intimate
friends. When studying the collections of animals, and when comparing the
forms of ancient and modern life, Cuvier mentally recognized a divine
wisdom and the work of the God he worshipped. That was his worship, and
he probably cared all the less for the oratory of the pulpit, which he
was expected to listen to. He was not a constant attendant at his church,
and this seems even to have afflicted his daughter when on her death-bed,
according to some reports. But in all probability she knew her father’s
worth and real religion, better than outside friends and detractors, and
prayed that he might receive that support which alone could enable him to
bear the heaviest of sorrows with resignation.
Judging the man by his fruit and life, it must be admitted that Cuvier
was one of the greatest students and teachers of nature that have lived,
his work, being true, lasts; moreover, there is no doubt that he had but
few failings, and a great amount of wisdom and virtue. Certainly he was
a staunch friend to religious education, and if one could have known
his heart, it is very possible that his apparent ambition and desire of
social greatness and position may have been influenced by the knowledge
that influence and dignity would further his work both as an anatomist
and zoologist, and as a responsible promoter of education.
The lives of these heroes have been mainly taken from the life of John
Ray in the Ray Society’s publications, and from an excellent little
book, by an anonymous author, called “Cuvier and Zoology,” and from the
“Mémoires de L’Académie des Sciences.”
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