The Adventures of Philip

by William Makepeace Thackeray

page after page of newspapers, French and German; took an occasional turn at the

  Chamber of Deputies, and gave an account of a sitting of importance, and made

  himself quite an active lieutenant. He began positively to save money. He wore

  dreadfully shabby clothes, to be sure: for Charlotte could not go to his chamber

  and mend his rags as the Little Sister had done: but when Mrs. Baynes abused him

  for his shabby appearance��and indeed it must have been mortifying sometimes to

  see the fellow in his old clothes swaggering about in Madame Smolensk's

  apartments, talking loud, contradicting and laying down the law�� Charlotte

  defended her maligned Philip. "Do you know why Monsieur Philip has those shabby

  clothes?" she asked of Madame de Smolensk. "Because he has been sending money to

  his father in America." And Smolensk said that Monsieur Philip was a brave young

  man, and that he might come dressed like an Iroquois to her soir�e, and he

  should be welcome. And Mrs. Baynes was rude to Philip when he was present, and

  scornful in her remarks when he was absent. And Philip trembled before Mrs.

  Baynes; and he took her boxes on the ear with much meekness; for was not his

  Charlotte a hostage in her mother's hands, and might not Mrs. General B. make

  that poor little creature suffer?

  One or two Indian ladies of Mrs. Baynes' acquaintance happened to pass this

  winter in Paris, and these persons, who had furnished lodgings in the Faubourg

  St. Honor�, or the Champs Elys�es, and rode in their carriages with, very

  likely, a footman on the box, rather looked down upon Mrs. Baynes for living in

  a boarding-house, and keeping no equipage. No woman likes to be looked down upon

  by any other woman, especially by such a creature as Mrs. Batters, the lawyer's

  wife, from Calcutta, who was not in society, and did not go to Government House,

  and here was driving about in the Champs Elys�es, and giving herself such airs,

  indeed! So was Mrs. Doctor Macoon, with her lady's-maid, and her man-cook, and

  her open carriage, and her close carriage. (Pray read these words with the most

  withering emphasis which you can lay upon them.) And who was Mrs. Macoon, pray?

  Madame B�ret, the French milliner's daughter, neither more nor less. And this

  creature must scatter her mud over her betters who went on foot. "I am telling

  my poor girls, madame," she would say to Madame Smolensk, "that if I had been a

  milliner's girl, or their father had been a pettifogging attorney, and not a

  soldier, who has served his sovereign in every quarter of the world, they would

  be better dressed than they are now, poor chicks!��we might have a fine

  apartment in the Faubourg St. Honor闗 we need not live at a boarding-house."

  "And if I had been a milliner, Madame la G�n�rale," cried Smolensk, with spirit,

  "perhaps I should not have had need to keep a boarding-house. My father was a

  general officer, and served his emperor too. But what will you? We have all to

  do disagreeable things, and to live with disagreeable people, madame!" And with

  this Smolensk makes Mrs. General Baynes a fine curtsey, and goes off to other

  affairs or guests. She was of the opinion of many of Philip's friends. "Ah,

  Monsieur Philip," she said to him, "when you are married, you will live far from

  that woman; is it not?"

  Hearing that Mrs. Batters was going to the Tuileries, I am sorry to say a

  violent emulation inspired Mrs. Baynes, and she never was easy until she

  persuaded her general to take her to the ambassador's, and to the entertainments

  of the citizen king who governed France in those days. It would cost little or

  nothing. Charlotte must be brought out. Her aunt, McWhirter, from Tours, had

  sent Charlotte a present of money for a dress. To do Mrs. Baynes justice, she

  spent very little money upon her own raiment, and extracted from one of her

  trunks a costume which had done duty at Barrackpore and Calcutta. "After hearing

  that Mrs. Batters went, I knew she never would be easy," General Baynes said,

  with a sigh. His wife denied the accusation as an outrage, said that men always

  imputed the worst motives to women, whereas her wish, heaven knows, was only to

  see her darling child properly presented, and her husband in his proper rank in

  the world. And Charlotte looked lovely, upon the evening of the ball; and Madame

  Smolensk dressed Charlotte's hair very prettily, and offered to lend Auguste to

  accompany the general's carriage; but Ogoost revolted, and said, "Non, merci! he

  would do anything for the general and Miss Charlotte��but for the g�n�rale, no,

  no, no!" and he made signs of violent abnegation. And though Charlotte looked as

  sweet as a rosebud, she had little pleasure in her ball, Philip not being

  present. And how could he be present, who had but one old coat, and holes in his

  boots?

  So, you see, after a sunny autumn, a cold winter comes, when the wind is bad for

  delicate chests, and muddy for little shoes. How could Charlotte come out at

  eight o'clock through mud or snow of a winter's morning, if she had been out at

  an evening party late over night? Mrs. General Baynes began to go out a good

  deal to the Paris evening parties��I mean to the parties of us Trojans��parties

  where there are forty English people, three Frenchmen, and a German who plays

  the piano. Charlotte was very much admired. The fame of her good looks spread

  abroad. I promise you that there were persons of much more importance than the

  poor Vicomte de Gar�on-boutique, who were charmed by her bright eyes, her bright

  smiles, her artless, rosy beauty. Why, little Hely of the Embassy actually

  invited himself to Mrs. Doctor Macoon's, in order to see this young beauty, and

  danced with her without ceasing. Mr. Hely, who was the pink of fashion, you

  know; who danced with the royal princesses; and was at all the grand parties of

  the Faubourg St. Germain. He saw her to her carriage, a very shabby fly, it must

  be confessed; but Mrs. Baynes told him they had been accustomed to a very

  different kind of equipage in India. He actually called at the boarding-house,

  and left his card, M. Walsingham Hely, attach� � l'Ambassade de S. M.

  Britannique, for General Baynes and his lady. To what balls would Mrs. Baynes

  like to go? to the Tuileries? to the Embassy? to the Faubourg St. Germain? to

  the Faubourg St. Honor�? I could name many more persons of distinction who were

  fascinated by pretty Miss Charlotte. Her mother felt more and more ashamed of

  the shabby fly, in which our young lady was conveyed to and from her

  parties;��of the shabby fly, and of that shabby cavalier who was in waiting

  sometimes 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 redbearded fellow, with the ragged shirt-collars,

  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-�-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 his 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. Peplow, a clergyman and a baronet's eldest son, who will be

  one day the Rev. Sir Charles Peplow of Peplow Manor, was praising Tomlinson's

  poems, and offered to read out at Mr. Badger's��and he reads very finely, though

  a little perhaps through his nose��and when he was going to begin, Mr. Firmin

  said, "My dear Peplow, for heaven's sake don't give us any of that rot. I would

  as soon hear one of your own prize poems." Rot, indeed! What an expression! Of

  course Mr. Peplow was very much annoyed. And this from a mere newspaper writer.

  Never heard of such rudeness! Mrs. Tuffin said she took her line at once after

  seeing this Mr. Firmin. "He may be an earl's grand-nephew, for what I care. He

  may have been at college, he has not learned good manners there. He may be

  clever, I don't profess to be a judge. But he is most overbearing, clumsy and

  disagreeable. I shall not ask him to my Tuesdays; and Emma, if he asks you to

  dance, I beg you will do no such thing!" A bull, you understand, in a meadow, or

  on a prairie with a herd of other buffalos, is a noble animal: but a bull in a

  china-shop is out of place; and even so was Philip amongst the crockery of those

  little simple tea-parties, where his mane, and hoofs, and roar, caused endless

  disturbance.

  These remarks concerning the accepted son-in-law Mrs. Baynes heard and, at

  proper moments, repeated. She ruled Baynes; but was very cautious, and secretly

  afraid of him. Once or twice she had gone too far in her dealings with the quiet

  old man, and he had revolted, put her down and never forgiven her. Beyond a

  certain point, she dared not provoke her husband. She would say, "Well, Baynes,

  marriage is a lottery: and I am afraid our poor Charlotte has not pulled a

  prize:" on which the general would reply, "No more have others, my dear!" and so

  drop the subject for the time being. On another occasion it would be, "You heard

  how rude Philip Firmin was to Mr. Hobday?" And the general would answer, "I was

  at cards, my dear." Again she might say, "Mrs. Tuffin says she will not have

  Philip Firmin to her Tuesdays, my dear:" and the general's rejoinder would be,

  "Begad, so much the better for him!" "Ah!" she groans, "he's always offending

  some one!" "I don't think he seems to please you much, Eliza!" responds the

  general: and she answers, "No, he don't, and that I confess; and I don't like to

  think, Baynes, of my sweet child given up to certain poverty, and such a man!"

  At which the general with some of his garrison pharses would break out with a

  "Hang, it, Eliza, do you suppose I think it is a very good match?" and turn to

  the wall, and, I hope, to sleep.

  As for poor little Charlotte, her mother is not afraid of little Charlotte: and

  when the two are alone the poor child knows she is to be made wretched by her

  mother's assaults upon Philip. Was there ever anything so bad as his behaviour,

  to burst out laughing when Miss Crackley was singing? Was he called upon to

  contradict Sir Charles Peplow in that abrupt way, and as good as tell him he was

  a fool? It was very wrong certainly, and poor Charlotte thinks, with a blush,

  perhaps, how she was just at the point of admiring Sir Charles Peplow's reading

  very much, and had been prepared to think Tomlinson's poems delightful, until

  Philip ordered her to adopt a contemptuous opinion of the poet. And did you see

  how he was dressed? a button wanting on his waistcoat, and a hole in his boot?

  "Mamma!" cries Charlotte, turning very red. "He might have been better

  dressed��if��if��"

  "That is, you would like your own father to be in prison, your mother to beg her

  bread, your sisters to go in rags, and your brothers to starve, Charlotte, in

  order that we should pay Philip Firmin back the money of which his father robbed

  him! Yes. That's your meaning. You needn't explain yourself. I can understand

  quite well, thank you. Good-night. I hope you'll sleep well. I shan't, after

  this conversation. Goodnight, Charlotte!" Ah, me! O course of true love, didst

  thou ever run smooth? As we peep into that boarding-house; whereof I have

  already described the mistress as wakeful with racking care regarding the

  morrow; wherein lie the Miss Bolderos, who must naturally be very uncomfortable,

  being on sufferance, and as it were in pain, as they lie on their beds;��what

  sorrows do we not perceive brooding over the nightcaps? There is poor Charlotte

  who has said her prayer for her Philip; and as she lays her young eyes on the

  pillow, they wet it with their tears. Why does her mother for ever and for ever

  speak against him? Why is her father so cold when Philip's name is mentioned?

  Could Charlotte ever think of any but him? Oh, never, never! And so the wet eyes

  are veiled at last; and close in doubt and fear and care. And in the next room

  to Charlotte's, a little yellow old woman lies stark awake; and in the bed by

  her side an old gentleman can't close his eyes for thinking��my poor girl is

  promised to a beggar. All the fine hopes which we had of his getting a legacy

  from that lord are over. Poor child, poor child, what will become of her?

  Now, Two Sticks, let us fly over the river Seine to Mr. Philip Firmin's

  quarters: to Philip's house, who has not got a penny; to Philip's bed, who has

  made himself so rude and disagreeable at that tea-party. He has no idea that he

  has offended anybody. He has gone home perfectly well pleased. He has kicked off

  the tattered boot. He has found a little fire lingering in his stove, by which

  he has smoked the pipe of thought. Ere he has jumped into his bed he has knelt a

  moment beside it; and with all his heart��oh! with all his heart and soul��has

  committed the dearest one to heaven's loving protection! And now he sleeps like

  a child.

  CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH WE STILL HOVER ABOUT THE ELYSIAN FIELDS.

  The describer and biographer of my friend Mr. Philip Firmin has tried to

  extenuate nothing; and, I hope, has set down nau
ght in malice. If Philip's boots

  had holes in them, I have written that he had holes in his boots. If he had a

  red beard, there it is red in this story. I might have oiled it with a tinge of

  brown, and painted it a rich auburn. Towards modest people he was very gentle

  and tender; but I must own that in general society he was not always an

  agreeable companion. He was often haughty and arrogant: he was impatient of old

  stories: he was intolerant of commonplaces. Mrs. Baynes' anecdotes of her

  garrison experiences in India and Europe got a very impatient hearing from Mr.

  Philip; and though little Charlotte gently remonstrated with him, saying, "Do,

  do let mamma tell her story out; and don't turn away and talk about something

  else in the midst of it; and don't tell her you have heard the story before, you

  rude man! If she is not pleased with you, she is angry with me, and I have to

  suffer when you are gone away,"��Miss Charlotte did not say how much she had to

  suffer when Philip was absent; how constantly her mother found fault with him;

  what a sad life, in consequence of her attachment to him, the young maiden had

  to lead; and I fear that clumsy Philip, in his selfish thoughtlessness, did not

  take enough count of the sufferings which his behaviour brought on the girl. You

  see I am acknowledging that there were many faults on his side, which, perhaps,

  may in some degree excuse or account for those which Mrs. General Baynes

  certainly committed towards him. She did not love Philip naturally; and do you

  suppose she loved him because she was under great obligations to him? Do you

  love your creditor because you owe him more than you can ever pay? If I never

  paid my tailor, should I be on good terms with him? I might go, on ordering

  suits of clothes from now to the year nineteen hundred; but I should hate him

  worse year after year. I should find fault with his cut and his cloth: I daresay

  I should end by thinking his bills extortionate, though I never paid them.

  Kindness is very indigestible. It disagrees with very proud stomachs. I wonder

  was that traveller who fell among the thieves grateful afterwards to the

  Samaritan who rescued him? He gave money certainly; but he didn't miss it. The

  religious opinions of Samaritans are lamentably heterodox. O brother! may we

  help the fallen still though they never pay us, and may we lend without exacting

  the usury of gratitude!

  Of this I am determined, that whenever I go courting again, I will not pay my

  addresses to my dear creature ��day after day, and from year's end to year's

  end, very likely, with the dear girl's mother, father, and half a dozen young

  brothers and sisters in the room. I shall begin by being civil to the old lady,

  of course. She is flattered at first by having a young fellow coming courting to

  her daughter. She calls me "dear Edward;" works me a pair of braces; writes to

  mamma and sisters, and so forth. Old gentleman says, "Brown, my boy" (I am here

  fondly imagining myself to be a young fellow named Edward Brown, attached, let

  us say, to Miss Kate Thompson)��Thompson, I say, says, "Brown, my boy, come to

  dinner at seven. Cover laid for you always;" and of course, delicious thought!

  that cover is by dearest Kate's side. But the dinner is bad sometimes. Sometimes

  I come late. Sometimes things are going badly in the city. Sometimes Mrs.

  Thompson is out of humour;��she always thought Kate might have done better. And

  in the midst of these doubts and delays, suppose Jones appears, who is older,

  but of a better temper, a better family, and��plague on him!�� twice as rich?

  What are engagements? What are promises? It is sometimes an affectionate

  mother's Duty to break her promise, and that duty the resolute matron will do.

  Then Edward is Edward no more, but Mr. Brown; or, worse still, nameless in the