This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1866 ...to put Miss Charlotte into her carriage. Charlotte's mother's ears were only too acute when disparaging remarks were made about that cavalier. What? engaged to that queer red-bearded fellow, with the ragged shirtcollars, who trod upon everybody in the polka? A newspaper writer, was he? The son of that doctor who ran away after cheating everybody? What a very odd thing of General Baynes to think of engaging his daughter to such a person! So Mr. Firmin was not asked to many distinguished houses, where his Charlotte was made welcome; where there was dancing in the saloon, very mild negus and cakes in the salle-a-manger, and cards in the lady's bed-room. And he did not care to be asked; and he made himself very arrogant and disagreeable when he was asked; and he would upset tea-trays, and burst out into roars of laughter at all times, and swagger about the drawing-room as if he was a man of importance--he indeed--giving himself such airs, because his grandfather's brother was an earl! And what had the earl done for him, pray? And what right had he to burst out laughing when Miss Crackley sang a little.out of tune? What could General Baynes mean by selecting such a husband for that nice, modest young girl? The old general sitting in the best bed-room, placidly playing at whist with the other British fogies, does not hear these remarks, perhaps, but little Mrs. Baynes with her eager eyes and ears sees and knows everything. Many people have told her that Philip is a bad match for her daughter. She has heard him contradict calmly quite wealthy people. Mr. Hobday, who has a house in Carlton Terrace, London, and goes to the first houses in Paris, Philip has contradicted him point blank, until Mr. Hobday turned quite red, and Mrs. Hobday didn't know where to look. Mr....
This one’s reputation as Thackeray at the end of his rope definitely is merited. Philip as a story is a lot like The History of Pendennis and especially The Newcomes in the way it’s told and who the hero is, but while Pendennis has all the nuance and introspection of an author stand-in, and The Newcomes has the fascinating Colonel, the marriage market stuff, and a more interesting friend-of-Pendennis for Pen to write about, Philip doesn't really do much of anything.
Without that material, Thackeray is forced to take a deep breath and adopt the “Ah well! Who would give up that time, though it were… and I hope none of us would fail to admit that...” summing-up tone much too often, and too frequently on the same topics. Probably every third page contains an “Ah yes but” followed by gentle remonstrations about overly cynical men and their sometimes-irrational wives.
Of course I still love Pendennis as narrator, even though—because so little happens to Philip otherwise—he and Laura might be in here too much. Folding in the unfinished A Shabby Genteel Story is also an inspired touch, and gives Philip’s narrative what little incident it possesses. The Pendennis books are not a perfect funnel—I think The Newcomes is better than Pendennis, although I have fonder memories of the latter—but if you have gotten all the way through them to Philip you might just like these characters and this writer enough to persist. No one else (especially the unwitting reader of Vanity Fair and little else looking to complete the similarly caustic A Shabby Genteel Story) need apply.
Thackeray uses Arthur Pendennis as the narrator in The Adventures of Philip, he also managed to have a cameo of Clive Newcomes. Thackeray doesn't just tell a story, he talks to the reader and makes one remember their own lost love, the feelings of being young, the joys and pain of life and of growing older. So what is The Adventures of Philip on His Way Through the World about? Let's have William Thackeray tell you in his own words; 'He is not going to perish in the last chapter of these memoirs, to die of consumption with his love weeping by his bedside, or to blow out his brains out of despair, because she has been married to his rival or killed out of a gig, or otherwise done for in the last chapter but one. So my dear miss, if you want a pulmonary romance, the present won't suit you. So young gentleman, if you are for melancholy, despair, and sardonic satire, please to call at some other shop.'
I enjoyed everything about this book except the racist treatment of one of the characters. I usually overlook this in books of this period, as attitudes were, of course, different; but it particularly stood out in this book. Other than that, the story was entertaining and the characters interesting.