Around the World in Eighty Days

by Jules Verne

CHAPTER I.

In Which Phileas Fogg and Passepartout Meet Each Other — One as Master, One as Helper

In the year 1872, a man named Mr. Phileas Fogg lived in London. His house was at No. 7, Saville Row. He belonged to a fancy club called the Reform Club. People noticed him, but he never tried to be noticed. He was quiet and mysterious, and almost no one knew much about him. He looked calm and dignified, and he seemed like he might live forever without ever growing old.

Everyone knew he was English. But no one was sure he was really from London. He never went to the places where London businessmen worked, like the Bank or the stock market ("'Change" is an old word for the stock market, where people buy and sell shares of companies). He didn't own any ships. He wasn't a lawyer, a farmer, or a factory owner. He wasn't part of any science clubs or history clubs either. He belonged to only one club: the Reform Club. That was all.

Getting into that club was easy for him. A rich banking family recommended him, and he always had plenty of money in his account.

Was Phileas Fogg rich? Yes, very rich. But no one knew how he had earned his money. He wasn't showy with his money, but he wasn't stingy either. If he heard about a good cause that needed help, he quietly gave money to it — sometimes without even saying it was from him. He almost never talked about himself. He was so quiet that people found him even more mysterious.

Every day, he did almost exactly the same things. This made people very curious about him.

Had he traveled the world? It seemed like he must have. He seemed to know about every place, even faraway or hidden ones. When people at the club argued about missing travelers or far-off lands, Mr. Fogg would calmly correct them — and he was always right. It was like he had some kind of special knowledge.

But strangely, no one had seen Mr. Fogg leave London in many years. The people who knew him best said he was always right there in London. His only hobbies were reading the newspaper and playing a card game called whist. He often won at whist, but he never kept the money — he gave it to charity instead. He didn't play to win. He played because he enjoyed the challenge of the game, like solving a quiet puzzle.

Mr. Fogg had no wife, no children, and no close friends or family that anyone knew of. He lived alone in his house, and hardly anyone ever went inside. He had just one servant to take care of him. He ate breakfast and dinner at the club, always at the exact same time, at the exact same table, all by himself. Every night, he went home at exactly midnight and went straight to bed. He spent ten hours a day at home — just sleeping and getting dressed. When he walked, he walked with slow, steady steps through the fancy halls of the club. His meals used the finest food, plates, and drinks the club could offer, even ice brought all the way from America to keep his drinks cold.

If living this way seems strange, it was still a very comfortable way to live.

His house wasn't fancy, but it was very cozy. Since Mr. Fogg's habits were so exact, he needed his servant to be extremely precise and on time. In fact, that very day — October 2nd — he had fired his last servant, James Forster, just because the man had brought his shaving water two degrees too cool! Now, Mr. Fogg was waiting for a new servant, who was supposed to arrive between eleven and eleven-thirty.

Mr. Fogg sat straight and still in his chair, like a soldier standing at attention. He watched a fancy clock that showed the hour, minute, second, day, month, and year. At exactly eleven-thirty, as he did every single day, Mr. Fogg would leave for the Reform Club.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. James Forster, the servant who had been fired, walked in.

"The new servant," he said.

A young man, about thirty years old, stepped forward and bowed.

"You're French, I believe," said Phileas Fogg. "And your name is John?"

"Jean, if you please, sir," said the young man. "Jean Passepartout. People call me that because I'm good at moving from job to job. I believe I'm honest, sir, but I admit I've had many different jobs. I've been a singer, a circus performer, a tightrope walker, and even a gymnastics teacher. I was also a firefighter in Paris and helped put out many fires. Five years ago, I left France and came to England, hoping for a calm, steady life as someone's helper. I heard that Mr. Phileas Fogg was the most exact and orderly gentleman in the whole country, so I came here hoping to live a quiet life with you."

"Passepartout will do," said Mr. Fogg. "I've heard good things about you. Do you understand my rules?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. What time is it?"

"Eleven twenty-two," said Passepartout, pulling out a big silver watch.

"You're too slow," said Mr. Fogg.

"Pardon me, sir, that's not possible—"

"You're four minutes slow. No matter — now you know. From this moment on — eleven twenty-nine, Wednesday, October 2nd — you work for me."

Mr. Fogg stood up, picked up his hat, put it on, and walked out without another word.

Passepartout heard the front door shut once — that was his new master leaving. Then it shut again — that was James Forster, the old servant, leaving too. Passepartout was now alone in the house on Saville Row.

CHAPTER II.

In Which Passepartout Believes He Has Finally Found His Perfect Job

"Well," Passepartout said to himself, feeling a little nervous, "I..."