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| ISBN-13: | 9781853260902 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Wordsworth Editions, Limited |
| Publication date: | 01/28/1994 |
| Series: | Classics Library Series |
| Pages: | 384 |
| Product dimensions: | 4.97(w) x 7.81(h) x 0.82(d) |
| Age Range: | 8 - 12 Years |
Date of Birth:
February 8, 1828Date of Death:
March 24, 1905Place of Birth:
Nantes, FrancePlace of Death:
Amiens, FranceEducation:
Nantes lycée and law studies in Paris
CHAPTER 1
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 2
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 began 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."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Around the World in 80 Days"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Jules Verne.
Excerpted by permission of Legend Times Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Chapter 1 In which Phileas Fogg and Passepartout accept each other, the one as master, the other as man 1
Chapter 2 In which Passepartout is convinced that he has at last found his ideal 7
Chapter 3 In which a conversation takes place which seems likely to cost Phileas Fogg dear 12
Chapter 4 In which Phileas Fogg astounds Passepartout, his servant 21
Chapter 5 In which a new species of funds, unknown to the moneyed men, appears on 'Change 26
Chapter 6 In which Fix, the detective, betrays a very natural impatience 30
Chapter 7 Which once more demonstrates the uselessness of passports as aids to detectives 36
Chapter 8 In which Passepartout talks rather more, perhaps, than is prudent 40
Chapter 9 In which the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean prove propitious to the designs of Phileas Fogg 45
Chapter 10 In which Passepartout is only too glad to get off with the loss of his shoes 51
Chapter 11 In which Phileas Fogg secures a curious means of conveyance at a fabulous price 58
Chapter 12 In which Phileas Fogg and his companions venture across the Indian forests, and what ensued 68
Chapter 13 In which Passepartout receives a new proof that fortune favours the brave 77
Chapter 14 In which Phileas Fogg descends the whole length of the beautiful valley of the Ganges without ever thinking of seeing it 85
Chapter 15 In which the bag of bank-notes disgorges some thousands of pounds more 93
Chapter 16 In which Fix does not seem to understand in the least what is said to him 101
Chapter 17 Showing what happened on the voyage from Singapore to Hong Kong 108
Chapter 18 In which Phileas Fogg, Passepartout, and Fix go each about his business 115
Chapter 19 In which Passepartout takes a too great interest in his master, and what comes of it 121
Chapter 20 In which Fix comes face to face with Phileas Fogg 130
Chapter 21 In which the master of the "Tankadere" runs great risk of losing a reward of two hundred pounds 138
Chapter 22 In which Passepartout finds out that, even at the antipodes, it is convenient to have some money in one's pocket 148
Chapter 23 In which Passepartout's nose becomes outrageously long 156
Chapter 24 During which Mr. Fogg and party cross the Pacific Ocean 164
Chapter 25 In which a slight glimpse is had of San Francisco 172
Chapter 26 In which Phileas Fogg and party travel by the Pacific Railroad 180
Chapter 27 In which Passepartout undergoes, at a speed of twenty miles an hour, a course of Mormon history 187
Chapter 28 In which Passepartout does not succeed in making anybody listen to reason 195
Chapter 29 In which certain incidents are narrated which are only to be met with on American railroads 205
Chapter 30 In which Phileas Fogg simply does his duty 214
Chapter 31 In which Fix the detective considerably furthers the interests of Phileas Fogg 223
Chapter 32 In which Phileas Fogg engages in a direct struggle with bad fortune 230
Chapter 33 In which Phileas Fogg shows himself equal to the occasion 235
Chapter 34 In which Phileas Fogg at last reaches London 245
Chapter 35 In which Phileas Fogg does not have to repeat his orders to Passepartout twice 249
Chapter 36 In which Phileas Fogg's name is once more at a premium on 'Change 256
Chapter 37 In which it is shown that Phileas Fogg gained nothing by his tour around the world, unless it were happiness 261
1. Having been born into a family that had made their living from the sea, Jules Verne spent his early years in a seaport town. When he was still young, Verne himself became a cabin boy on a merchant ship. In what ways do you think these elements of the author’s own life may have influenced Around the World in Eighty Days?
2. Verne became very involved with theater while studying law in Paris and is the author of many plays. What elements in this novel do you think came out of Verne’s theatrical experiences? After Eighty Days was published, Verne received many requests to dramatize the work. Do you think the book has particularly theatrical elements that would lead to its adaptation as a play?
3. Around the World in Eighty Days is considered one of the most popular adventure novels of all time. What do you think of this characterization and how would you compare it to contemporary adventure novels and films? What elements of the adventure genre have changed over time, and where do you think today’s adventure authors owe a debt to Verne?
4. Although the story begins in London, it eventually spans the entire globe. Despite the international setting, this book is distinctly British in many ways. Why might Verne have chosen a protagonist that is so quintessentially British, while the author himself was French?
5. Verne had an avid interest in science, particularly geology and geography, and was somewhat of an inventor. After having read Around the World in Eighty Days, does it surprise you that Verne is considered by many to be the father of science fiction? Where do you think Verne’s scientific expertise adds to the story?
6. For Verne, the world is shrinking; exploration has given way to tourism and imperialism. In his Introduction, Bruce Sterling argues that comments on globalization in Eighty Days are particularly relevant today. Would you agree? What evidence can you find to support this, and what lessons do you think we can learn from this novel today?
7. In many ways, Verne’s tale is one about the future, and many of his ideas have come to pass. Now that it is relatively easy to go around the world in eighty days, why is this tale still entertaining and relevant?
8. Many of the characters in the novel have names that in some way illuminate their roles. Why do you think Verne chose to call his hero Fogg, the detective Fix, and the assistant Passepartout, which means skeleton key in French?
9. Why do you think the hero, the mysterious Phileas Fogg, accepts the bet to travel the globe in eighty days?
10. When the book was written, the Parsee Indian Aouda represented the unknown and the exotic, but in many ways she is the character that the modern reader finds most familiar. Do you think this is true? In what ways is she now more modern than many of the other characters?
11. The precise and very British Phileas Fogg and his valet, the comic and very French Passepartout, are strikingly different characters. In what ways do their differences help to elucidate their individual character traits? Why does Verne include this relationship? Most of the time Passepartout is more a hindrance to his employer than helpful. Why do you think Fogg keeps him? In what ways does he serve to advance the plot, particularly with Aouda?
12. In many ways, Fogg’s travels are more than just a race around the world but a quest, one in which the hero returns somehow transformed. Do you think Fogg’s character is changed when he returns to London at the end of the challenge?
13. At the conclusion of the novel, the narrator asserts that Phileas Fogg in his journey has gained nothing but a charming woman, who, strange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men! Verne seems to be making the point that love and human relationships are more important than winning bets or other material gains. Do you think that the rest of the novel would support this assertion? If not, why might Verne have included it?
We knew we had a hit on our hands as soon as the first reads of Matthew Goodman’s Eighty Days came in. “Rollicking, fast-paced, enlightening, cinematic,” said the Discover selection committee readers. “We think Erik Larson fans will want to give this a whirl.” Matthew Goodman tells the story behind his new book, a Spring ’13 Discover pick, in a guest post on the Discover blog.
