92 LIFE OF HORACE BENEDICT DE SAUSSURE 



the great city, and (continues Senebier) ' in the evening in the 

 gay world he had the same success he had had in the morning 

 with the savants.' 



De Saussure's own impressions of Paris, as recorded in his 

 numerous letters and private journal, are more definite and vivid ; 

 they have also something of the cruelty of youth. 



' In general,' he writes, ' I like the savants of Paris better than its 

 beaux esprits ; the latter are insupportably vain, have no respect for 

 things human or divine, calumniate pitilessly all that is in the opposite 

 camp, and exercise in conversation an intolerable despotism. The 

 savants, on the other hand, at least those I have met, are as modest 

 as it is possible to be for Frenchmen ! Both classes spend but little 

 time in their studies, and are consequently shallow. Pleasure, female 

 society, and, above all, the passion of frequenting and paying court to 

 the great, absorb the best part of their time. Thus they have often 

 the satisfaction of making discoveries owing to their ignorance of those 

 that have been already made ! ' 



The young Genevese Professor, it is clear, was by no means 

 dazzled by the brilliancy of the glittering crust of Parisian life 

 which twenty years later was to be shivered into fragments by the 

 Great Revolution. The symptoms of the coming troubles did 

 not altogether escape him. In the previous year (13th May 1767) 

 he had written to Haller : 



' There is all over Europe a fermentation which aims at liberty, 

 but of which the sequel in many instances must be a redoubling of 

 slavery. An imperfect philosophy produces aspirations to a liberty 

 without limits ; a more perfect philosophy, grounded on experience, 

 will show that the tomb of liberty may be found in the cradle of 

 democracy.' 



One of de Saussure's most frequent haunts was the Jardin du 

 Roi of which Buffon had long been the Director to which he 

 went three times a week to study the plants. He writes to 

 Bonnet : 



' I see very often Bernard de Jussieu, the father of French botanists. 

 He is the living image of the serenity and peace of soul that the 

 assiduous study of nature ought to give to the philosopher. He enjoys 

 the most perfect old age, all his senses intact, an incomparable memory, 

 a sweetness, a gaiety, an unrivalled amenity of character adorn in 



