Mademoiselle Cuvier, daughter of the celebrated naturalist, died a short
time since at Paris. There has seldom been any instance where the
strongest benevolence was so closely united to the charms of intellect.
She possessed a rare mixture of elevation of mind and firmness of
character--of strength and equanimity--sweetness and simplicity. It was
truly gratifying to witness her worship, or rather superstition, for
truth, and to watch the avidity with which she used to seize and
illustrate whatever she thought likely to remove ignorance, or promote
the cause of virtue and freedom. The circumstances which attended the
death of this amiable creature, have, if possible, greatly augmented the
grief of her family and friends. The day of her nuptials was fixed, and
she was to be united to a man of her own choice, and everything was
prepared for the ceremony. Being suddenly afflicted by rapid symptoms of
consumption, all hopes of her recovery soon vanished. Notwithstanding,
the ball dresses, veils, and shawls, continued to be sent home to the
unhappy parents, who dared not refuse them, lest they should themselves
be accused of giving way to despair. This mixture of preparations for
rejoicing, and the certainty of death, formed a picture the most
melancholy and pathetic. When the fatal moment arrived, her family and
many friends surrounded the dying couch in mournful silence. The funeral
was attended by all that is distinguished for rank and fortune at Paris;
a clergyman of the Protestant church read the service for the dead, and
a funeral sermon. A number of young females whom she had formed for
succouring the poor, were ranged round the bier, dressed in white, and
followed to the Cemetery of Père la Chaise, where M. Salvandy, one of
her friends, undertook to deliver the final eulogy, which it is usual in
France to pronounce on departed worth.--_Monthly Magazine_.--_Letter
from Paris_.
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