GEORGE LOUIS LE CLERC, Count of, a celebrated naturalist, was born at Montbard, in Burgundy, the 9th of September 1707; his father was a councillor of the parliament of Dijon, and the son was destined to the same office, if science had not drawn him away from the law. He studied at Dijon; and his eager activity, his acuteness, penetration, and robust constitution, fitted him to pursue business and pleasure with equal ardour. His early passion was for astronomy, and the young Le Clerc was never without Euclid in his pocket. At the age of twenty, he went with an English nobleman and his governor to Italy; but he overlooked the choicest remains of art, and, amidst the ruins of an elegant and luxurious people, he first felt the charms of natural history, whose zealous and successful admirer he afterwards proved. On his return to France, he fought, on some occasional quarrel, with an Englishman, whom he wounded, and was obliged to retire to Paris. He there translated Newton's Fluxions from the Latin, and Hales's Statics from the English, into the French language. He afterwards came to England, at the age of 25; and this journey concluded his travels: he stayed there about three months. At the age of 21, he succeeded to the estate of his mother, which was valued at about 300,000 livres (above 12,000l. sterling); and he was one of those whose easy or affluent circumstances urge on to literary pursuits, and clear the path of some of its thorns. Perhaps this was the period of his retirement to Montbard, where he spent much time, and where his leisure was little interrupted: while in the capital, his office of intendant of the king's garden and cabinet engaged much of his time. He loved much company, and was partial to the fair; but he loved glory more. He spent 14 hours every day in study; and, when we examine the extent of his knowledge, and the number of his works, we wonder at his having executed so much much even in this time. At five in the morning he retired to a pavilion in his vast gardens, and he was then inaccessible. This was, as Prince Henry of Prussia called it, the cradle of natural history; but he was indifferently accommodated. The walls were naked: an old writing-table, with pen, ink, and paper, and an elbow chair of black leather, were the only furniture of his study. His manuscripts were in a cabinet in another building, and he went occasionally from one to the other. The eras of Buffon's works are pretty well known. When each was finished it was put aside, in order that he might forget it, and he then returned to it with the severity of a critic. He was anxious to have it periphrastic; and if those to whom he read his works hesitated a moment, he changed the passage. The works of others he at last read like Magliabechi, the titles, the contents, and the most interesting parts; but he read M. Neckar's Compte Rendu, and the Administration of the Finances, at length; he spoke of them also with no little enthusiasm. His favourite authors were Fenelon, Montesquieu, and Richardson.

M. de Buffon's conversation was unadorned, rarely animated, but sometimes very cheerful. He was exact in his dress, particularly in dressing his hair. He sat long at table, and then seemed at his ease. His conversation was, at this time, unembarrassed, and his guests had frequently occasion to notice some happy turn of phrase, or some deep reflection. His complaisance was very considerate: he loved praise, and even praised himself; but it was with so much frankness, and with so little contempt of others, that it was never disagreeable. Indeed, when we consider the extent of his reputation, the credit of his works, and the attention with which they were always received, we do not wonder that he was sensible of his own value. It would perhaps have displayed a stronger mind to have concealed it. His father lived to 93, and almost adored his son; his grandfather to 87; and the subject of the present article exceeded only 80. He died in April 1788. Fifty-five stones were found in his bladder; but if he had consented to the operation, he might probably have lived longer. He left one son; who near a high tower in the gardens of Montbard has placed a low column, with the following inscription:

Excellens Turri Humilis Columna, Parenti fui Fil. Buffon.

This son fell a victim to the tyranny of Robespierre during the late revolution in France.