The Press.
London, England, 1856-12-20 00:00:00

THt PRESS.

" indeed I must, it is indispensable," returns the Secre•
tary ; " at least—"
" How awkward !" sighs the lady. "To tell you the
truth, Sir, we have not been presented at Court yet; but
my cousin, Alderman Joliffe, has."
When I say indispensable," resumes the Secretary, " I
mean with reference to admission, according to rule—by
the grand entrance : but there is the book door "—laying a
great stress on the word.

" Is there ?" cries the lady eagerly.
" Which opens with a golden key," winds up the man in
black.

" With a golden key !! " repeated Mr. Paragreen.
" Yes, with a golden key," returned the imperturbable
Secretary. " I take it for granted, thatyou would not think
much of a twenty-pound note or so."
" Certainly not," said Mrs. Paragreen, with sharp decision.
" Twenty pounds ! " exclaimed Mr. Paragreen ; " pray,
air, may I ask what for?"
" For smoothing away little difficulties—with the Great
Chamberlain," replied the Secretary, winking and smiling
significantly.
" I understand," said the wife, brightening up.
" I don't understand," cried the husband, growing
gloomy.

But if Mr Paragreen made mistakes about
" Princes'' and other mighty personages,
fortune gave him amends b) having himself
taken for a baronet and an M.P. Mr. Para-
green went to a restaurant and ordered
dinner :
The waiter handed Mr. Paragreen the printed " Carte
du Restaurant," a pencil and a slip of paper.
" Pourquoi?" asked the Enplishraan, staring at the three
articles.

" Pour ecrire le menu de votre dicer, Monsieur," answered
the waiter, and disappeared.
" Let us see," said Mr. Paragreen. " Bless my soul !
what a confusion—Potages a la Julienne—au riz—au ver-
micelle—aux macaroni "—(" Faugh !" cried Mrs. Para-
green, in dusgust. ) " Bisque aux ecrevisses—what do you
say to that ? —good—we'll put it down then. Shall we have
anguilles a la tartate ?'"
" What is that ?" cried Mrs. Paragreen.
" Why, I don't know—it looks well in print."
" Suppose it's only another name for frogs."
" Oh, frogs, my dear, have only one name, green•owls,
you know—however, we woc't have the tartares. Ah !
here's something capital—piite de foie gras."
" Ard potatoes, pa," put in Tobo, a great amateur of that
tubercle.

Pate de foie gras," wrote Mr. Paragreen, " aux pommel
de terre."

And thus, putting one dish after the other to the vote,
for no other reason than its looking well in print, and
having it accepted or refused merely as it sounded plea-
santly or unpleasantly, Mr. Paragreen succeeded in con-
cocting a menu, enough to have raised Mr. Vatel from his
grave, and caused him to commit suicide over again.
The waiter cast the glance of a critic over the piper, and
uttered these words full of wondering reproach, " Vous no
voulez donc pas de roti, Monsieur?"
" Oh oui, rtiti, to be sure," said Mr. Paragreen, em-
barrassed.

" vous commander des brochettes d'ortolans ?"
" Oui, tres bun, brochettes d'ortolongs—et," proceeded
Mr. Paragreen, " cette chose, you know, vous savez, 1
mean—cette chose qui est si grusse et "—and to illustrate
his meaning he puffed out his cheeks, and began blowing
away as if he wets a pair of bellows.
" Omelette souftlee," said this (Edipus, to whom such
inquiries had been propounded hundreds of times before,
" omelette souillee."
Then they heard " a lord " and a French
marquis talking with each other :

The Paragreens followed this conversation with interest,
not because the discourse was of dukes, castles, and parks,
but because two noblemen were the interlocutors. To be
sure, a mere French marquis could not be of much im-
portance to people who had a prince, so to say, for their
intimate friend ; but to breathe the same atmosphere, to
feed perhaps on the same potages and brochettes as a lord,
a real English lord, that was a treat they could not hope
for every day. As to his being a real lord, that was self.
evident, they could have sworn to the fact. Only remark
the ease with which he dangles his cane, and the noble
freedom with which he scans, through his glass, the
features of the grown-up ladies present—such ease and
freedom could belong to none but a lord.
His lordship having stared at the feminine part of our
family to his heart's content, now condescends to cast his
aristocratic eyes over their masculine accompaniment; his
glance lingers a moment on Mr. Paragreeu, when, lo ! as
if electrified, his lordship starts forwards, crying, with
outstretched hands, " Sir Andrew !—by Jove !—delighted
—how long have you been in Paris ?"
The chief of the Paragreens, half proud, half abashed,
regrets that be has not the honour—there is a mistake—
and, bowing low, he begs to make himself known to his
lordship as Mr. Paragreen, of Eden Villa, Peckham.
Is it possible? I beg a thousand pardons—really, were
it not for the voice, I should itnagine it was Sir Andrew
giving me the cut direct—Sir Andrew Narquotick, M.P.
for Dunahshire—very likely you know him—l never saw
such a likeness. ' Pon my word, it is ridiculous, one
drop of water is not more like another drop of water than
you are to the worthy baronet."
They paid dearly for making the acquaintance
of " his lordship," as this veritable history
records.
We have noticed this little volume at such
length because it is one of the light " hits" of
the present season. It is extremely pleasing

Xl7

and amusing, and its flavour is " Pickwickian:'
The characters lack individualism, and the
style is more remarkable for its facile flowing
ease, than for originality. We think this author
might produce a serial novel that would be
equal to any of Mr. Lever's sprightly fictions.

The Life and Correspondence of Major-General
Sir John Malcolm, G.C.B. By J. W. Kaye,
Author of the " Life of Lord Metcalfe.'
Two Vols. London : Smith and Elder.
(Second Notice.)

To return to the personal fortunes of Mal-
colm. Between his second and third visits to
Persia he was employed to quell the disaffeo-
tion (it can hardly be called mutiny) of the
Madras army. The office was an ungracious
one. Malcolm had much sympathy with the
grievances of the officers, and failed to take
those vigorous measures which the Indian
Government thought were called for. He was
soon recalled, and a minute was recorded that
he had not acted up to his instructions.
He came to England in 1812, bringing his
family with him. He had married, in 1807,
Miss Charlotte Campbell, a daughter of Colo-
nel Campbell, who subsequently became Com-
mander-in-Chief of the Madras Army. At the
time of his marriage Malcolm was eight and
thirty. He had not, however, lost the capacity
of loving, and when his wife presented him
with a daughter he was completely happy.
His residence in England lasted five years ;
he was received with honour, and knighted by
the King. His journal during this period
contains several most interesting passages.
He renewed his acquaintance with the Duke of
Wellington in Paris, immediately after the
battle of Waterloo :

Paris, July 24, 1815.—1 went to the Duke's hotel. . . .
We found the Duke with a large party seated at dinner.
He called out in his usual manner directly I entered, " Ah
Malcolm, lam delighted to see you." I went and shook
hands, introduced Lord John Campbell, and then sat down.
I mention this trifle because it showed me at once that his
astonishing elevation had not produced the slightest
change. The tone, the manner, everything was the same.
After dinner he left a party he wss with when I entered,
and, shaking me by the band, retired to one end of the
room, where he shortly stated what had occurred within
the eventful month. " People ask me for an account of
the action." he said. " I tell them it was hard pounding
on both sides, and we pounded the hardest. There wail
no manoeuvring," be said ; " liuonaparte kept his attacks,
and I was glad to let it be decided by the troops. There
are no men in Europe that can fight like my Spanish
infantry; none have been so tried. Besides," he added
with enthusiasm, "my army and I know one another
exactly. We have a mutual confidence, and are never dis-
appointed." " You had, however," I observed, " mere than
one-half of your troops of other nations." " That did not
signify," he said," for I had discovered the secret of mixing
them up together. Had I employed them in separate
corps, I should have lost the battle. The Hanoverians,"
he added, " are good trcops, but the new Dutch levies are
bad. They, however, served to fill gaps, and I knew where
to place them." . . . Alan and myself expressed our
gratification at seeing the state of the hospitals at Brussels,
and told him how delighted we were to find that through
the discipline he had established, and the good conduct of
the troops, the English character stood so high that the
name was a passport to the houses of those they had con-
quered.

Thus, early after Waterloo, the Duke seems to
have contemplated that Anglo-French alliance
which is now universally accepted as part of
our national policy :

I remarked that he had taken advantage of an event
which staggered credulity—that of an English army occu•
pying the capital of France—to act in a manner thc. was
calculated to soften the asperity and lessen the hatred of
two great rival nations. " That very observation," he
replied, " was made to me some days ago by Talleyrand."
The whole of Malcolm's journal at this time
is excellent. The Duke was accustomed to
drive himself through the streets of Paris in
a gig at a rapid rate. "He drives so fast,"
said Malcolm, "that T am astonished he has
" not been upset." Here is an observation of
the Duke, which may servo to account for
the disaster of the Balaklava death-ride :
Nothing is so difficult to manage as cavalry. They slip
through your hands (he added) whether you advance or
retreat rapidly. Changes should be made (he concluded)
with reserves, or misfortune is always certain.

It w•as during this residence in England
that Malcolm finished and published his
" History of Persia." He went back to India
a renovated man, and, fortunately for his repu-
tation as a soldier, was appointed to command
a division of the army of the Deccan sent
against the Mabratta force under Uolitar.