Suwarrow was very remarkable for his directness; and so great was his aversion to an evasive or unmeaning expression, that he never could bear the person who made use of such, and was sure to give him the name of Niesnion, which may be translated, “I don’t know,” “possibly,” or “perhaps.”  He would take no such answer; but would say, in an emphatic tone, “try,” “learn,” or “set about it.”  Indeed, the abhorrence in which he held any mode of expression which was not dictated by the most perfect frankness was so great, that he could not endure the flattery and unmeaning civility of courtiers; and he never hesitated to mark his displeasure by bitter satire, regardless of the presence of those against whom it was directed, even if the Empress herself made one of the company.  This caused 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