him to be feared and
disliked by many at court. His acquirements were considerable. He
spoke eight languages--French, like a native. He composed verses
with facility; he had read much, and was particularly well-informed
in history and biography. Notwithstanding his remarkable frankness
and all his oddities, his manners were engaging and polished: his
conversation was original, energetic, and lively; he would often
indulge in sallies of pleasantry to amuse the Empress, and as he was
an excellent mimic, he would take off the uncouth manners and accents
of some of the soldiers to the life. He had a dislike to writing,
always asserting that a pen was an unfit implement for a soldier. His
dispatches were laconic, but not the less striking on that account.
Once or twice they were couched in concise couplets. His brevity
was laid aside when he addressed his soldiers. It was his custom to
harangue them at great length, sometimes even for two hours at a time,
and in the very depth of winter.

"I remember," says M. de Guillaumanches, "that one day, in the
month of January, he took it into his head to harangue a body
of 10,000 men drawn up on parade at Varsovia. It was bitterly
cold, and a freezing hoar frost came down from the sky. The
marshal, in a waistcoat of white dimity, began his usual
harangue. He soon found that the coldness of the weather
made it seem long; accordingly, he stretched it to two hours.
Almost all the generals, officers, and soldiers caught cold.
The marshal was nothing the worse, and was even gayer than
usual. His quarters rang with continued fits of coughing,
and he seemed to enjoy hearing it. He had the satisfaction of
thinking that he had taught his army to disregard fatigue, and
winter with all its frosts."

M. de Guillaumanches speaks of the veneration which Suwarrow had for
the ministers of his religion. He would often stop a priest on the
road to implore his blessing. He loved to take part in their religious
services and to join in their chants; but it is on the goodness of his
heart that his biographer most delights to dwell. He tells us, "he was
a kind relation, a sincere friend, and an affectionate father." In the
midst of all his triumphs, it has been said that he was touched with
pity and with sorrow for suffering humanity. "I asked him," says Mr.
Tweddel, "if after the massacre of Ismail he was perfectly satisfied
with the conduct of the d