Chapter 15 - Page 2

with that
grand, Homeric ferocity. One might have thought that he
had come from a tent of the camp of Achilles rather than
from the camp of Napoleon. He invited the English
Ambassador to dinner at his bivouac; the Ambassador found
him seated by a big fire at which a whole sheep was roasting;
when the animal was cooked and unskewered, Fabvier placed
the heel of his bare foot upon the neck of the smoking and
bleeding sheep and tore off a quarter, which he offered to
the Ambassador. In bad times nothing daunted him. He was
indifferent alike to cold, heat, fatigue and hunger; he never
spared himself. The palikars used to say: "When the soldier
eats cooked grass Fabvier eats it green."

I knew his history, but I had not seen him when, in
1846, General Fabvier was made a peer of France. One
day he had a speech to make, and the Chancellor
announced: "Baron Fabvier has the tribune." I expected
to hear a lion, I thought an old woman was speaking.

Yet his face was a truly masculine one, heroic and
formidable, that one might have fancied had been moulded
by the hand of a giant and which seemed to have
preserved a savage and terrible grimace. What was so strange
was the gentle, slow, grave, contained, caressing voice that
was allied to this magnificent ferocity. A child's voice
issued from this tiger's mouth.

General Fabvier delivered from the tribune speeches
learned by heart, graceful, flowery, full of allusions to the
woods and country--veritable idylls. In the tribune this
Ajax became a Némorin.

He spoke in low tones like a diplomat, he smiled like a
courtier. He was not averse to making himself agreeable
to princes. This is what the peerage had done for him. He
was only a hero after all.

August 22, 1846.

The Marquis de Boissy has assurance, coolness, self-possession,
a voice that is peculiar to himself, facility of speech,
wit occasionally, the quality of imperturbability, all the
accessories of a great orator. The only thing he lacks is
talent. He wearies the Chamber, wherefore the Ministers
do not consider themselves bound to answer him. He talks
as long as everybody keeps quiet. He fences with the
Chancellor as with his particular enemy.

Yesterday, after the session which Boissy had entirely
occupied with a very poor speech, M. Guizot said to me:

"It is an affliction. The Chamber of Deputies would
not stand him for ten minutes after the first two times.
The Chamber of Peers extends its high politeness to him,
and it does wrong. Boissy will not be suppressed until the
day the whole Chamber rises and walks out when he asks
permission to speak."

"You cannot think of such a