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Around the World in Eighty Days
Around the World in Eighty Days
Around the World in Eighty Days
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Around the World in Eighty Days

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First published in 1873, “Around the World in Eighty Days” is a classic tale of adventure by French author Jules Verne, which tells the story of eccentric English inventor Phileas Fogg and his newly employed French valet Passepartout as they set out to circumnavigate the globe in eighty days. When Fogg gets into an argument at the Reform Club over an article in “The Daily Telegraph,” which posits that the building of a new railway section in India may now make it possible to circle the earth in eighty days, he hastily accepts a wager with his fellow club members to attempt the feat. In a mad dash he hurries off at once, with Passepartout, in a voyage around the world. Encountering many obstacles and misadventures along the way the two must make numerous accommodations when things do not go as planned. Matters are further complicated by the pursuit of a Scotland Yard detective named Fix, who mistakenly believes Fogg to be a bank robber on the run. “Around the World in Eighty Days,” is a classic work of genuine creativity and sheer delight that continues to amuse audiences until this day. This edition follows the translation of George Makepeace Towle and includes a biographical afterword.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 21, 2020
ISBN9781420977837
Author

Jules Verne

Jules Verne (1828–1905) was a prolific French author whose writing about various innovations and technological advancements laid much of the foundation of modern science fiction. Verne’s love of travel and adventure, including his time spent sailing the seas, inspired several of his short stories and novels.

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  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    My very first read of a Jules Verne classic, and I found it quite enjoyable. Very light hearted, and totally adventurous. Phineas Fogg was one of the main characters, and very determined, in wanting to get around the world in just 80 days. And I found his loyal servant Passpartout quite captivating. Many occurrences happened along the way, and it was interesting to see how they wrangled themselves out of each situation.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    It's easy to see why it's a classic book; the framework of Around the World in 80 Days is great, a rousing adventure that shows various distinct places in the world in 1872, with an added police pursuit for complication. It's also easy to see why it is significantly modified in more modern filmed versions, as it is steeped in colonialism with an absolutely vapid main character and one major female character who is there to be rescued and adore the vapid main character. That said, after the first few chapters of info dump, it's a very fast read because of the pace of the action.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Lively translation, although Butcher's notes are less helpful than they could be.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Having never read this book, I downloaded a free audiobook to see just how far from the original text the Masterpiece Theater mini-series is from the original source material. The answer to that is A LOT – so much so that the TV series would seem to be a wholly different story. As to the book, Verne wrote what could be called a “ripping yarn” with Phileas Fogg as the savant who can solve all problems on the trip around the globe, Fixx is the bumbling detective who is pursuing Fogg convinced that he has robbed the Bank of England of 50,000 pounds, Passerpartout provides comic relief, and the beautiful Indian widow Aouda provides the love interest. The “surprise” at the end of the novel will be no surprise to anyone who has traveled to the far east, but then in 1872 I’m assuming people weren’t as familiar with the International Date Line as they are today. My big quibble with the novel, is why Fogg hadn’t figured this out.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days is an absolute joy. This gleeful romp, wherein Phileas Fogg places a bet with some associates at the Reform Club that he can indeed perform the titular feat in that prescribed timeframe. Verne is at his wittiest, with a wonderful cast of characters: Fogg, one of literature’s great eccentrics; his loyal and resourceful servant Passepartout; and the comically inept Detective Fix, in hot pursuit of Fogg who has become a suspect in a recent bank robbery. Along the way Verne provides panoramic travelogue summaries for each new locale, which colorfully set the scenes. The story flows like a giddy Wes Anderson screenplay - and, in my view, that’s a compliment to both Anderson and Verne.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I loved this book and can't believe I waited so long to read it, back in grammar school and high school I read most of Verne's SF but skipped this because it wasn't SF, big mistake. I'd recommend this fans of Verne, steampunk or adventure travel lovers.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    DNF @ 36%. Good writing and description, but super colonialist and predictable.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I may have read an abridged version of this when I was very young, but I didn't remember the story at all, so reading this book was a fun experience. Phileas Fogg, accompanied by his servant Passepartout, sets out on a journey around the world aiming to win a bet. The two head east from London, using many different means of transportation and encountering assorted obstacles that threaten to slow them down.I'm definitely happy that I read it (I listened to it as an audiobook on a drive) and thought that it was cute, though I don't think that this will be an especially memorable book for me.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Why is there a hot air balloon on the cover? Why is that image so closely associated with this book?
    Spoiler: they never take a balloon. Huh.

    Very much a book of its time, I think, though hard for me to judge if the author was sincere in his stereotypes that are often racist (by today's standards) or if he's offering social commentary through sarcasm or tongue-in-cheek descriptions. Those nuances are lost in time, though I suppose I could read literary criticism to find out what the academics say. He does caricature the Americans in a comical way, though. That, and his portrayal of French, Indian, British, and a few other nationalities, it is a bit of a world whirlwind tour of the stereotypes in the major world stage players. Maybe that's the symbolism of the hot air balloon?
    This audiobook is very entertaining, with many sound effects and great accents and voices. Would captivate even a younger audience (8 maybe).
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    "A true Englishman doesn't joke when he is talking about so serious a thing as a wager," replied Phileas Fogg, solemnly.With this we're off to the one of the best adventure stories... And no matter how often I read this book, I still get excited about whether they will make it back to the Reform Club in time. Anyway, while Phileas Fogg is of course the originator of the bet and the driving force behind the trip. Having meticulously planned the route and conveyances that would allow him to circumnavigate the world, of course nothing goes to plan...Verne's writing is fantastic in this one, because it is both funny, sensitive, and informative, and you just want to be on that trip.But the absolute best part of the book is Fogg's man Passepartout. Passepartout was by no means one of those pert dunces depicted by Moliere with a bold gaze and a nose held high in the air; he was an honest fellow, with a pleasant face, lips a trifle protruding, soft-mannered and serviceable, with a good round head, such as one likes to see on the shoulders of a friend.He is the absolute hero of the story even though the original meeting between Fogg and Passepartou indicates that he had other plans for his time in Fogg's employment:"You are a Frenchman, I believe," asked Phileas Fogg, "and your name is John?" "Jean, if monsieur pleases," replied the newcomer, "Jean Passepartout, a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural aptness for going out of one business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I've had several trades. I've been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard, and dance on a rope like Blondin. Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics, so as to make better use of my talents; and then I was a sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a valet here in England. Finding myself out of place, and hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of Passepartout."Such a great read.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The great strength of this novel is its call to adventure, ending with the line, "Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the world?" Its great weakness is that the reward Mr. Fogg has received for his trip is not financial, but "a charming woman, who, strange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men!" While this might be interpreted as love winning out over money, given the casual racism of the narrator, where everyone who is not an Englishman (including Mr. Fogg's loyal servant, Passepartout, a Frenchman), it is hard to know if what is strange about Mr. Fogg's happiness is that he prefers love over money, or that the object of his love is an Indian woman. This book is best read as a relic of its time (published as a newspaper serial in 1872), and in the context of other travel stories of roughly the same period, more than one of which was written by women who actually took the journeys they describe and which, generally, avoid the casual racist dismissal of all natives encountered for far more interesting portrayals of individuals. Examples that spring to mind are narratives by Mary Kingsolver, Isabella Bird, and especially Juanita Harrison, who as a young woman of color traveling alone sees nearly everyone she meets, whether they are in France, Egypt or India, as simply the loveliest and most interesting of individuals. Nevertheless, Around the World in Eighty Days is a classic and can be read as an amusing tale of adventure, not the least because of the absurd attitudes our adventurers exhibit towards those they meet.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Digital audiobook performed by Frederick Davidson One of the books in Verne’s series of “Extraordinary Voyages” begins when Phileas Fogg accepts a wager at his gentleman’s club. He’s certain that he will be able to circumnavigate the world in eighty days. Taking a significant amount of cash and his trusty servant Passepartout, and chased by Detective Fix who is certain Fogg is a bank robber, they set out on a grand adventure.I’d seen more than one movie adaptation but had never read the book until now. What a delight! (Although, of course, there are some racial stereotypes that grate on the modern reader’s sensibilities.)I marveled at how cool and collected – almost uninterested – Fogg remained throughout. He is never upset or even particularly inconvenienced. He moves with the certainty that he is correct in assuming that he can achieve this great task. Passepartout on the other hand is in a dither frequently, and he is a wonderful foil for Fogg … and for Detective Fix. Great fun!One quibble re cover art. SO many covers (as well as the movies) show the iconic hot-air balloon … which is NEVER used in the book! Frederick Davidson does a marvelous job narrating the audiobook. He sets a good pace and I loved the way he interpreted the characters. I was happy also to have a text copy available, which included a handful of full-color illustrations, as well as a small drawing of the mode of travel for each of the chapters.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A fast-paced adventure dripped with cliches and humor - I listened to the audio read by Jim Dale and it was a lovely way to spend an afternoon.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    There's something rather charming and fantastic about this work, and in the way that Verne manages to bring to life characters in even such a fast-paced and simply told tale as this one. Certainly, the language is as dated as the narrative and the modes of transportation involved in Fogg's journey, but in an odd way, that feels to make it all the more fantastic and believable. Strange as that might be.I don't think I would have had the patience for this tale when I was younger, so I'm glad to have finally gotten around to it now. Certainly, I'd recommend it.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This was a very suspenseful, exciting book! This was the first Verne book I've ever read, and he is very good at keeping readers gnawing on their nails at the edge of their seats. The story has humor sprinkled throughout it that had me laughing out loud. I loved it; I know I say this about nearly everything I read, but this truly was a wonderful book!
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Delightful book. Passepartout is the real hero; saving lives all over the globe.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    An old book that has dated well. It is a good tale, well told. of two Londoner's travel around the world to win a wager. While the errors in detail in some places helps us understand how hard fact checking was in a pre-Google world, there is enough got right to make the reading enjoyable. In particular, the twist in the plot based on the travellers maintaining London time for the whole journey leading to them miscounting the number of days away from London, is a little gem.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Interesting story from a historical perspective. Definitely not something that could be written today.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I have no idea if I’ve read this before – I don’t think so, but it’s hard to tell since I’ve seen versions of the films enough times over the decades to know the story. Except, well, they’re not the story. I don’t think any of the movies I’ve seen – I can think of two, off the top of my head, one starring David Niven and the other Steve Coogan – are at all faithful to the book. Yes, Phineas Fogg accepts a challenge to travel around the world in eighty days. Yes, he thinks he’s failed, only to discover that by travelling east he has gained a day. Yes, he has adventures along the way, and even rescues a young woman who becomes his wife at the end of the book. But in the novel, he meets her in India, when he rescues her from suttee. And I don’t recall a Scotland Yard detective on Fogg’s trail for much of his travels – he believes Fogg stole £50,000 shortly before leaving London. And the final section, in which a desperate Fogg, Passepartout, Fix and Aouda race across the USA to catch a ship to Liverpool… the big set-piece is driving a train over a damaged bridge at high speed so the bridge doesn’t collapse under it. Much of the prose is larded with geography lessons, and while Verne’s didactism is one of the more charming aspects of his novels, here it seems overdone. True, I’m coming at the book more than a century later, as a member of a society considerably better-informed about world geography, and a highly-educated member of that society with an interest in other countries… So much of the exposition was superfluous as far as I was concerned. Further, Fogg’s characterisation as unemotional and po-faced hardly made him a sympathetic protagonist. Perhaps Verne intended this so the reader would indeed think Fogg was the bank robber, but it only made him feel like he had zero depth. Unfortunately, I’m not convinced, from what I remember, that the film adaptations are especially superior. The book is, I suspect, the best version of the story. Which is a bit of a shame.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Finally read this - I think I read it before, many many years ago, but the only thing I remember was the end, not any of their travels. It's mildly interesting, but not much to it - actually, the most interesting part is that the "hero" is not the POV character. We get scenes from Passepartout, a few from Fix, a few from Aouda - but Phileas Fogg is seen only from the outside. The closest we come to knowing what's going on with him is a few scenes where the author "watches" him, recounting what he's doing, and speculating on what he's thinking and feeling - and we never get any idea why he'd make the bet in the first place. A very odd twist. But overall, it reads like the world's longest shaggy dog story - chapter after chapter after chapter just to say "and he didn't know he'd lost a day!" Of course, in reality, he would have noticed the day change as soon as the liner landed in America and he was taking a train. And given they missed the liner from the East Coast by less than a day...the whole last section with burning the ship may have been utterly unnecessary. It's an amusing story, I'm glad I've finally read it, and I see no need to ever read it again.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    My most recent installment book was Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne which was originally published in 1873 and I think it has definitely aged well. The story is told in a simple straightforward style, and the various global adventures move the story along at a rapid pace. The plot is a little silly yet the book comes together nicely and before too long the reader finds himself involved in the story and rooting for the participants. The characters are distinct and well developed from the routine-obsessed, uptight yet cool main character who travels around the world based on a bet from some of the gentlemen at his club, to the sympathetic French manservant who is loyal, smart and a very good gymnast. Even the lesser developed characters of Aouda, the Indian lady, to Fix, the stalking policeman, are colourful and add to the story. Around the World in Eighty Days is light, fun and makes for great escape reading. A little dated, to be sure, but overall a very good read.
  • Rating: 1 out of 5 stars
    1/5
    My high hopes for “Around the World in Eighty Days” were dashed in eight chapters or so.Having seen a film of this as a child, I expected a similar amount of fun and adventure, but instead I endured a tedious plot and unappealing characters.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A charming story about a stoic Englishman who is known for his punctuality. When the question arises at his club about the time it would take a man to traverse the globe, his answer of 80 days is so confident that he provokes a gentleman's bet. Promptly he departs, taking his newly hired, and completely befuddled French manservant. On the trip the pair encounter countless adventures and surmount numerous obstacles. Returning to England they believe the have arrived just a few moments short of their goal but really they are one day early because of the time change. In the end the protagonist wins the bet, saves his fortune and marries a beautiful woman he met along the way. Very enjoyable read.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Essentially light-hearted tale about a trip taken on a wager. The translation conveyed or possibly enhanced the humour.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This is full of adventure. It was written at a time when people couldn’t find facts about other parts of the world as easily as we can today. Even though it may not be completely accurate, it sparks an interest by showing different countries around the world. I enjoyed the trip. It highlights different people, cultures and forms of transportation. Also, there are so many obstacles and near misses to keep everything exciting (It’s a race and high stakes bet).
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Jim Dale (narrator of the Harry Potter series) really helped bring to life this classic adventure novel. Admittedly, I've never read the book or seen any of the movie adaptations, so I didn't know what to expect. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there was no hot air balloon scene?! The most iconic book covers and images have always portrayed Phileas Fogg in a hot air balloon traveling around the world but, spoiler alert, that is not one of the methods used for transportation. While at his gentleman's club Fogg takes a bet that he can go round the world in 80 days. A precise, mathematical, and intelligent man, Fogg has no doubt that it can be done so he bets his life savings. Armed with only a small travel sack and his trusty French manservant, the two of them depart on the biggest adventure of their lives. Exotic adventures await them in China, India, Hong Kong, crossing the oceans, and America. Can Fogg really pull it off? And why is there a British man tailing him on this journey? A fun read for all ages. Admittedly, a little outdated in terms of racism and stereotypes of other religions and cultures, but it must be remembered that Jules Verne was viewing the world the British lens of imperialism at the time.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I really enjoyed this book. The prose has a lovely flow to it.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Well-paced, familiar adventure yarn, offering also a travelogue and 'ethnologue' of the world of as it was then - or as viewed through a mid-19th century lens. Phileas Fogg travels the world without relaxing his sangfroid, sidekick Passepartout stays agitated throughout. On the way, they rescue an Indian beauty from her widow's pyre, almost fight a duel, dodge arrest by a mistaken detective, etc. Remarkable that they get all the way to Shanghai before actually leaving British territory (except for France and Italy, which are in fact skipped over here; sorry, no balloon ride in the original). At some point, one tires of the formula, and the shallow writing, but the inventiveness remains a pleasure.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Despite the idea of a hot air balloon ride being so associated the story in most peoples' minds there is no hot air balloon ride in the actual book.Phileas Fogg remains completely calm through out the story.His servant Passepartout is the much more emotional. Passepartout is the person I identified with throughout the story.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The imperturbable Mr Fogg traverses the world in 80 days all while upholding the grandest tradition of English stiff-upper-lipedness. Not really sure why this is on the 1001 list.

Book preview

Around the World in Eighty Days - Jules Verne

Chapter I.

IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND PASSEPARTOUT ACCEPT EACH OTHER, THE ONE AS MASTER, THE OTHER AS MAN.

Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814. He was one of the most noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to avoid attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom little was known, except that he was a polished man of the world. People said that he resembled Byron—at least that his head was Byronic; but he was a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without growing old.

Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg was a Londoner. He was never seen on ’Change, nor at the Bank, nor in the counting-rooms of the City; no ships ever came into London docks of which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln’s Inn, or Gray’s Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen’s Bench, or the Ecclesiastical Courts. He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer. His name was strange to the scientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London Institution, the Artisan’s Association, or the Institution of Arts and Sciences. He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies which swarm in the English capital, from the Harmonic to that of the Entomologists, founded mainly for the purpose of abolishing pernicious insects.

Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.

The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple enough.

He was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open credit. His cheques were regularly paid at sight from his account current, which was always flush.

Was Phileas Fogg rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best could not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the last person to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish, nor, on the contrary, avaricious; for, whenever he knew that money was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quietly and sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least communicative of men. He talked very little, and seemed all the more mysterious for his taciturn manner. His daily habits were quite open to observation; but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that he had always done before, that the wits of the curious were fairly puzzled.

Had he travelled? It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world more familiarly; there was no spot so secluded that he did not appear to have an intimate acquaintance with it. He often corrected, with a few clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the club as to lost and unheard-of travellers, pointing out the true probabilities, and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second sight, so often did events justify his predictions. He must have travelled everywhere, at least in the spirit.

It was at least certain that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself from London for many years. Those who were honoured by a better acquaintance with him than the rest, declared that nobody could pretend to have ever seen him anywhere else. His sole pastimes were reading the papers and playing whist. He often won at this game, which, as a silent one, harmonised with his nature; but his winnings never went into his purse, being reserved as a fund for his charities. Mr. Fogg played, not to win, but for the sake of playing. The game was in his eyes a contest, a struggle with a difficulty, yet a motionless, unwearying struggle, congenial to his tastes.

Phileas Fogg was not known to have either wife or children, which may happen to the most honest people; either relatives or near friends, which is certainly more unusual. He lived alone in his house in Saville Row, whither none penetrated. A single domestic sufficed to serve him. He breakfasted and dined at the club, at hours mathematically fixed, in the same room, at the same table, never taking his meals with other members, much less bringing a guest with him; and went home at exactly midnight, only to retire at once to bed. He never used the cosy chambers which the Reform provides for its favoured members. He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in Saville Row, either in sleeping or making his toilet. When he chose to take a walk it was with a regular step in the entrance hall with its mosaic flooring, or in the circular gallery with its dome supported by twenty red porphyry Ionic columns, and illumined by blue painted windows. When he breakfasted or dined all the resources of the club—its kitchens and pantries, its buttery and dairy—aided to crowd his table with their most succulent stores; he was served by the gravest waiters, in dress coats, and shoes with swan-skin soles, who proffered the viands in special porcelain, and on the finest linen; club decanters, of a lost mould, contained his sherry, his port, and his cinnamon-spiced claret; while his beverages were refreshingly cooled with ice, brought at great cost from the American lakes.

If to live in this style is to be eccentric, it must be confessed that there is something good in eccentricity.

The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were such as to demand but little from the sole domestic, but Phileas Fogg required him to be almost superhumanly prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he had dismissed James Forster, because that luckless youth had brought him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six; and he was awaiting his successor, who was due at the house between eleven and half-past.

Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his hands resting on his knees, his body straight, his head erect; he was steadily watching a complicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds, the days, the months, and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr. Fogg would, according to his daily habit, quit Saville Row, and repair to the Reform.

A rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy apartment where Phileas Fogg was seated, and James Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.

The new servant, said he.

A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.

You are a Frenchman, I believe, asked Phileas Fogg, and your name is John?

Jean, if monsieur pleases, replied the newcomer, Jean Passepartout, a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural aptness for going out of one business into another. I believe I’m honest, monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I’ve had several trades. I’ve been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard, and dance on a rope like Blondin. Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics, so as to make better use of my talents; and then I was a sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a valet here in England. Finding myself out of place, and hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of Passepartout.

Passepartout suits me, responded Mr. Fogg. You are well recommended to me; I hear a good report of you. You know my conditions?

Yes, monsieur.

Good! What time is it?

Twenty-two minutes after eleven, returned Passepartout, drawing an enormous silver watch from the depths of his pocket.

You are too slow, said Mr. Fogg.

Pardon me, monsieur, it is impossible—

You are four minutes too slow. No matter; it’s enough to mention the error. Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you are in my service.

Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.

Passepartout heard the street door shut once; it was his new master going out. He heard it shut again; it was his predecessor, James Forster, departing in his turn. Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.

Chapter II.

IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS CONVINCED THAT HE HAS AT LAST FOUND HIS IDEAL.

Faith, muttered Passepartout, somewhat flurried, I’ve seen people at Madame Tussaud’s as lively as my new master!

Madame Tussaud’s people, let it be said, are of wax, and are much visited in London; speech is all that is wanting to make them human.

During his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passepartout had been carefully observing him. He appeared to be a man about forty years of age, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure; his hair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his face rather pale, his teeth magnificent. His countenance possessed in the highest degree what physiognomists call repose in action, a quality of those who act rather than talk. Calm and phlegmatic, with a clear eye, Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect type of that English composure which Angelica Kauffmann has so skilfully represented on canvas. Seen in the various phases of his daily life, he gave the idea of being perfectly well-balanced, as exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer. Phileas Fogg was, indeed, exactitude personified, and this was betrayed even in the expression of his very hands and feet; for in men, as well as in animals, the limbs themselves are expressive of the passions.

He was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready, and was economical alike of his steps and his motions. He never took one step too many, and always went to his destination by the shortest cut; he made no superfluous gestures, and was never seen to be moved or agitated. He was the most deliberate person in the world, yet always reached his destination at the exact moment.

He lived alone, and, so to speak, outside of every social relation; and as he knew that in this world account must be taken of friction, and that friction retards, he never rubbed against anybody.

As for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris. Since he had abandoned his own country for England, taking service as a valet, he had in vain searched for a master after his own heart. Passepartout was by no means one of those pert dunces depicted by Moliere with a bold gaze and a nose held high in the air; he was an honest fellow, with a pleasant face, lips a trifle protruding, soft-mannered and serviceable, with a good round head, such as one likes to see on the shoulders of a friend. His eyes were blue, his complexion rubicund, his figure almost portly and well-built, his body muscular, and his physical powers fully developed by the exercises of his younger days. His brown hair was somewhat tumbled; for, while the ancient sculptors are said to have known eighteen methods of arranging Minerva’s tresses, Passepartout was familiar with but one of dressing his own: three strokes of a large-tooth comb completed his toilet.

It would be rash to predict how Passepartout’s lively nature would agree with Mr. Fogg. It was impossible to tell whether the new servant would turn out as absolutely methodical as his master required; experience alone could solve the question. Passepartout had been a sort of vagrant in his early years, and now yearned for repose; but so far he had failed to find it, though he had already served in ten English houses. But he could not take root in any of these; with chagrin, he found his masters invariably whimsical and irregular, constantly running about the country, or on the look-out for adventure. His last master, young Lord Longferry, Member of Parliament, after passing his nights in the Haymarket taverns, was too often brought home in the morning on policemen’s shoulders. Passepartout, desirous of respecting the gentleman whom he served, ventured a mild remonstrance on such conduct; which, being ill-received, he took his leave. Hearing that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant, and that his life was one of unbroken regularity, that he neither travelled nor stayed from home overnight, he felt sure that this would be the place he was after. He presented himself, and was accepted, as has been seen.

At half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone in the house in Saville Row. He begun its inspection without delay, scouring it from cellar to garret. So clean, well-arranged, solemn a mansion pleased him ; it seemed to him like a snail’s shell, lighted and warmed by gas, which sufficed for both these purposes. When Passepartout reached the second story he recognised at once the room which he was to inhabit, and he was well satisfied with it. Electric bells and speaking-tubes afforded communication with the lower stories; while on the mantel stood an electric clock, precisely like that in Mr. Fogg’s bedchamber, both beating the same second at the same instant. That’s good, that’ll do, said Passepartout to himself.

He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon inspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house. It comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the morning, exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past eleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club—all the details of service, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at twenty minutes before ten. Everything was regulated and foreseen that was to be done from half-past eleven a.m. till midnight, the hour at which the methodical gentleman retired.

Mr. Fogg’s wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste. Each pair of trousers, coat, and vest bore a number, indicating the time of year and season at which they were in turn to be laid out for wearing; and the same system was applied to the master’s shoes. In short, the house in Saville Row, which must have been a very temple of disorder and unrest under the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan, was cosiness, comfort, and method idealised. There was no study, nor were there books, which would have been quite useless to Mr. Fogg; for at the Reform two libraries, one of general literature and the other of law and politics, were at his service. A moderate-sized safe stood in his bedroom, constructed so as to defy fire as well as burglars; but Passepartout found neither arms nor hunting weapons anywhere; everything betrayed the most tranquil and peaceable habits.

Having scrutinised the house from top to bottom, he rubbed his hands, a broad smile overspread his features, and he said joyfully, This is just what I wanted! Ah, we shall get on together, Mr. Fogg and I! What a domestic and regular gentleman! A real machine; well, I don’t mind serving a machine.

Chapter III.

IN WHICH A CONVERSATION TAKES PLACE WHICH SEEMS LIKELY TO COST PHILEAS FOGG DEAR.

Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven, and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club, an imposing edifice in Pall Mall, which could not have cost less than three millions. He repaired at once to the dining-room, the nine windows of which open upon a tasteful garden, where the trees were already gilded with an autumn colouring; and took his place at the habitual table, the cover of which had already been laid for him. His breakfast consisted of a side-dish, a broiled fish with Reading sauce, a scarlet slice of roast beef garnished with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart, and a morsel of Cheshire cheese, the whole being washed down with several cups of tea, for which the Reform is famous. He rose at thirteen minutes to one, and directed his steps towards the large hall, a sumptuous apartment adorned with lavishly-framed paintings. A flunkey handed him an uncut Times, which he proceeded to cut with a skill which betrayed familiarity with this delicate operation. The perusal of this paper absorbed Phileas Fogg until a quarter before four, whilst the Standard, his next task, occupied him till the dinner hour. Dinner passed as breakfast had done, and Mr. Fogg re-appeared in the reading-room and sat down to the Pall Mall at twenty minutes before six. Half an hour later several members of the Reform came in and drew up to the fireplace, where a coal fire was steadily burning. They were Mr. Fogg’s usual partners at whist: Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and Gauthier Ralph, one of the Directors of the Bank of England—all rich and highly respectable personages, even in a club which comprises the princes of English trade and finance.

Well, Ralph, said Thomas Flanagan, what about that robbery?

Oh, replied Stuart, the Bank will lose the money.

On the contrary, broke in Ralph, I hope we may put our hands on the robber. Skilful detectives have been sent to all the principal ports of America and the Continent, and he’ll be a clever fellow if he slips through their fingers.

But have you got the robber’s description? asked Stuart.

In the first place, he is no robber at all, returned Ralph, positively.

What! a fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds, no robber?

No.

Perhaps he’s a manufacturer, then.

"The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman."

It was Phileas Fogg, whose head now emerged from behind his newspapers, who made this remark. He bowed to his friends, and entered into the conversation. The affair which formed its subject, and which was town talk, had occurred three days before at the Bank of England. A package of banknotes, to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds, had been taken from the principal cashier’s table, that functionary being at the moment engaged in registering the receipt of three shillings and sixpence. Of course, he could not have his eyes everywhere. Let it be observed that the Bank of England reposes a touching confidence in the honesty of the public. There are neither guards nor gratings to protect its treasures; gold, silver, banknotes are freely exposed, at the mercy of the first comer. A keen observer of English customs relates that, being in one of the rooms of the Bank one day, he had the curiosity to examine a gold ingot weighing some seven or eight pounds. He took it up, scrutinised it, passed it to his neighbour, he to the next man,

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