Around the year 1870, there was much discussion of the idea that a sufficiently determined world traveller could traverse the entire globe with hitherto unimaginable speed. Such discussions engaged the interest of Jules Verne, a writer who was always interested in the ways in which human beings’ scientific endeavours were changing the world – and the ultimate result was Around the World in Eighty Days (1872). This novel caused a sensation in Verne’s time, and with its emphasis on adventure and ingenuity, it may be the most characteristically “Vernian” of all Jules Verne’s works.
The novel begins with Phileas Fogg, a phlegmatic English gentleman who is a member of London’s Reform Club, offering a bet in the context of a conversation about the speed of global travel. In response to the skepticism of some of his fellow club members, Phileas Fogg states that “I bet £20,000 against anyone that I will go around the world in eighty days or less – in other words, 1,920 hours or 115,200 minutes.” Five members of the Reform Club take the bet, and it is a substantial one – for £20,000 in 1872 would be the equivalent of £2.3 million, or about $3 million (U.S.), today. Phileas Fogg is staking his entire fortune on this 80-days business.
As he sets forth on the settling of this wager, Phileas Fogg has some things going for him and other things going against him. The good news is that Phileas Fogg has a new servant – a Frenchman named Passepartout. The two are well-matched: where Fogg is detached and unemotional, Passepartout is passionate and engaged; Fogg is an intellectual, and Passepartout an athletic man of action. Passepartout is truly the perfect travel companion for Phileas Fogg’s journey.
The bad news, by contrast, is that Phileas Fogg is unjustly suspected, by a police detective named Fix, of having robbed the Bank of England. Fix has the intellectual inflexibility of the Prefect of Police from Edgar Allan Poe’s Parisian mystery stories, combined with the unflinching determination and drive of Inspector Javert from Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables (1862). Fix, ever in search of an arrest warrant he can use against Phileas Fogg at some point when Fogg is on British soil, will be a constant companion, and foil, throughout the travellers’ journey.
The intended travel itinerary for Phileas Fogg and Passepartout is as follows:
• London to Suez, Egypt;
• Suez to Bombay, India;
• Across India from Bombay to Calcutta;
• Calcutta via Singapore to Hong Kong;
• Hong Kong to Yokohama, Japan;
• Yokohama to San Francisco, California, U.S.A.;
• Across the United States of America, from San Francisco to New York; and, finally,
• New York to London.
It all seems do-able, in accordance with Phileas Fogg’s gift for meticulous planning – but of course, a variety of things go wrong throughout the trip, making for plenty of moments of intrigue and fast-paced adventure.
In India, for instance, the travellers find, to their dismay, that there is actually a gap of unfinished railroad in the Trans-Indian Railway on which they were planning to cross the subcontinent. As the book’s narrator dryly puts it, “Newspapers are like certain watches that insist on being fast, and they had prematurely announced the completion of the line.” At first, Phileas Fogg insists that he will cross the subcontinent on foot, if need be, but then Passepartout has a suggestion:
“Sir, I think I’ve found a means of transport.”
“What sort?”
“An elephant! An elephant belonging to an Indian who lives only a hundred yards from here.”
“Let’s go and see the elephant,” replied Mr. Fogg.
A pattern is established here; as things go wrong, and the travellers are in danger of falling behind schedule, Phileas Fogg and Passepartout must repeatedly utilize their ingenuity and improvise new travel plans in order to stay on pace for completing his 80-day round-the-world voyage on time. Not only do they get across India on time, but they manage, in the process, to rescue a beautiful young Indian widow, one Mrs. Aouda, from being burned alive in the practice of sati.
I was glad that Mrs. Aouda was a presence in the novel. So often, Verne’s adventure novels are so male-dominated, with two or three guys having all the fun – Professor Otto Lidenbrock, Axel, and the Icelandic guide Hans in Journey to the Centre of the Earth (1864); Professor Aronnax, Conseil, and the Canadian harpooner Ned Land in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1870). About the best one can hope for in terms of women's agency, in these lads-only affairs, is that there will be a love interest – a pretty young woman back home, waiting with mingled pride and anxiety for the adventurer of her dreams to complete his journey. Mrs. Aouda, in Around the World in Eighty Days, humanizes the proceedings considerably – and one gets the sense that she is slowly but surely thawing out Phileas Fogg’s phlegmatic temperament.
Travel problems do, however, persist. At one point, for instance, Phileas Fogg finds himself stuck in Hong Kong – largely, though he does not know this, through the machinations of Fix, who has separated Passepartout from the rest of the group by taking him to an opium den (!), and is hoping that his long-overdue arrest warrant will arrive in British-held Hong Kong, enabling him at last to arrest Phileas Fogg. The ship for Yokohama has left early, meaning that Phileas Fogg’s prospects for completing the voyage on time seem lost.
But Fogg once again seizes the opportunity to find a new way forward toward recommencing the seemingly lost Yokohama-to-San Francisco stage of his voyage, through a chance encounter with a sailor in Hong Kong’s outer harbour:
“Is your honour after a boat?” the sailor said to him, taking his cap off.
“Do you have a boat ready to sail?” asked Mr. Fogg.
“Yes, your honour – a pilot boat: Number 43, the best of the whole lot.”
“Is it fast?”
“Between eight and nine knots, as near as makes no difference. Do you want to see it?”
“Yes.”
“Your honour couldn’t ask for more. Is it for a boat trip?”
“No, for a voyage.”
“A voyage?”
“Are you prepared to take me to Yokohama?”
The sailor couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He just stood there, aghast.
“Your honour must be joking!” he said.
“No. I’ve missed the Carnatic and I must be in Yokohama by the 14th at the latest, to catch the steamer for San Francisco.”
“Sorry,” replied the sailor, “but it’s impossible.”
“I’m offering you £100 a day and a bonus of £200 if you get me there on time.”
“Are you serious?” asked the sailor.
“Deadly serious,” replied Mr. Fogg.
They get across the Pacific Ocean to San Francisco, and begin a train journey across the United States of America. The American railway, unlike its Indian counterpart, is actually complete from coast to coast, but there is still plenty of trouble awaiting the travellers, as Sioux warriors attack the transcontinental train. Passepartout detaches the locomotive from the passenger cars, and the passenger cars safely reach the Kearney station. But Passepartout and a couple of others, with the engine, fall into the hands of the Sioux.
Phileas Fogg at once expresses his determination to rescue Passepartout, even though “In making this decision Phileas Fogg was sacrificing everything. He had just condemned himself to financial ruin. A single day’s delay meant he would miss the steamer from New York. His bet was irretrievably lost. But at the thought of ‘this is my duty’ he had not hesitated.”
Phileas Fogg, in his plans to go and rescue Passepartout, asks Fix to look after Mrs. Aouda, leaving the police inspector feeling decidedly conflicted. “How could he let go of this man, whom he had followed so doggedly and with such persistence? How could he let him venture into the wilderness like this? Fix looked at the gentleman intently and despite himself, for all his feelings against Fogg and in spite of the struggle that was going on inside him, he felt uncomfortable when confronted with that calm and honest expression.”
And once Phileas Fogg and the U.S. Army detachment from Fort Kearney have indeed rescued Passepartout, it turns out that there is – once again – an alternate means of transportation, this time across across the frozen Northern plains:
It was a sort of frame built upon two long beams that were turned up at the end like the runners on a sledge, and there was room for about five or six people. A third of the way along the frame, to the front, stood a very tall mast, to which was attached a huge spanker sail. From this mast, which was firmly held in position by cables, stretched an iron stay, the purpose of which was to hoist a very large jib. At the rear a sort of oar-rudder enabled the contraption to be steered.
It was, as can be seen from this description, a sledge, but with the rigging of a sloop. In winter, on the ice-bound plain, when the trains are no longer running because of the snow, these vehicles travel very fast from station to station. What is more, they have an enormous expanse of sail – greater even than a racing cutter, which is liable to capsize – and with the wind behind them they glide along the surface of the prairies as fast if not faster than express trains.
One of the pre-eminent pleasures of Around the World in Eighty Days is looking on as Phileas Fogg, time after time, figures out a new way to continue with his voyage, once his original plans have not worked out. And the journey of this sail-sled across the snowy plains makes for some of the most exciting and fast-moving passages of the novel.
The resolution of the novel is probably not as surprising for readers nowadays as it was in 1872, but it is a fun denouement nonetheless. In an informative foreword to this Penguin Classics edition of Around the World in Eighty Days, science-fiction author and scholar Brian Aldiss reminds us that one can now go around the world in 55 hours (London Heathrow to Sydney to Los Angeles, and then back to Heathrow), whilst effectively setting what may have been Verne’s most popular adventure novel in the context of its time.
I have never travelled around the world as Phileas Fogg and Passepartout did; but I have now visited all of the countries mentioned in Verne’s novel. I’ve visited 85 countries so far, come to that. And as it was when I was a child of 10 or so, so it is now that I am in my sixties: Le Tour du monde en quatre-vingte jours remains one of the most delightful travel adventures ever set down.