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AROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS



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,

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