Jules Verne · a new plain-English translation from the original language
Phileas Fogg, on leaving London, doubtless had little idea of the great stir his departure was going to cause. News of the wager spread first through the Reform Club and produced a real commotion among the members of the honorable circle. Then, from the club, this commotion passed to the newspapers by way of the reporters, and from the newspapers to the public of London and of the whole United Kingdom.
This "question of the tour of the world" was commented on, debated, dissected, with as much passion and ardor as if it had been a new Alabama affair. Some took Phileas Fogg's side, others—and they soon formed a considerable majority—came out against him. This tour of the world, to be accomplished otherwise than in theory and on paper, in that minimum of time, with the means of communication currently in use, was not merely impossible, it was insane!
The Times, the Standard, the Evening Star, the Morning Chronicle, and a score of other widely circulated papers declared against Mr. Fogg. Only the Daily Telegraph backed him to a certain extent. Phileas Fogg was generally treated as a maniac, a madman, and his colleagues of the Reform Club were blamed for having taken up this wager, which pointed to a weakening in the mental faculties of its author.
Extremely impassioned but logical articles appeared on the question. One knows the interest taken in England in everything touching on geography. And so there was not a reader, of whatever class, who did not devour the columns devoted to the case of Phileas Fogg.
During the first few days, a few bold spirits—chiefly women—were for him, especially when the Illustrated London News published his portrait after his photograph deposited in the archives of the Reform Club. Certain gentlemen dared to say: "Ha! ha! why not, after all? More extraordinary things have been seen!" These were above all the readers of the Daily Telegraph. But it was soon felt that even this paper was beginning to waver.
Indeed, a lengthy article appeared, on October the 7th, in the Royal Geographical Society's Bulletin. It examined the question from every angle and clearly demonstrated the folly of the undertaking. According to this article, everything was against the traveler—obstacles of man, obstacles of nature. To succeed in this project, one had to assume a miraculous concordance of the hours of departure and arrival, a concordance that did not exist, that could not exist. At a pinch, and in Europe, where the distances involved are relatively modest, one may count on the trains arriving on time; but when they take three days to cross India, seven days to cross the United States, could one base the terms of such a problem on their punctuality? And the engine breakdowns, the derailments, the collisions, the bad season, the piling up of snow—was not all of it against Phileas Fogg? On the steamers, would he not find himself, during winter, at the mercy of gales or of fogs? Is it then so rare for the best runners of the transoceanic lines to suffer delays of two or three days? Now, a single delay, just one, was enough for the chain of connections to be irreparably broken. If Phileas Fogg missed, even by a few hours, the departure of a steamer, he would be forced to wait for the next steamer, and by that very fact his journey would be irrevocably compromised.
The article made a great noise. Almost all the papers reprinted it, and the shares of Phileas Fogg dropped sharply.
During the first days that followed the gentleman's departure, important dealings had been struck on the "hazard" of his undertaking. One knows what the world of bettors is in England, a world more intelligent, more elevated than that of gamblers. Betting is in the English temperament. And so not only did the various members of the Reform Club lay considerable bets for or against Phileas Fogg, but the mass of the public entered into the movement. Phileas Fogg was entered like a racehorse in a kind of studbook. He was also made into a stock-exchange security, which was immediately quoted on the London market. People asked for, and offered, "Phileas Fogg" outright or at a premium, and enormous deals were done. But five days after his departure, after that article in the Geographical Society's Bulletin, the offers began to pour in. Phileas Fogg fell. He was offered in job lots. Taken first at five, then at ten, he was no longer taken except at twenty, at fifty, at a hundred!
One backer alone stayed with him. This was the old paralytic, Lord Albermale. The honorable gentleman, nailed to his armchair, would have surrendered his fortune to be able to go around the world, even in ten years! and he staked five thousand pounds (100,000 F) in favor of Phileas Fogg. And when, along with the foolishness of the project, its uselessness was demonstrated to him, he was content to reply: "If the thing is doable, it's a good idea that it should be an Englishman who is the first to have done it!"
Now, matters had reached this point—Phileas Fogg's backers were growing ever scarcer; everyone, and not without reason, was turning against him; he was no longer taken except at a hundred and fifty, at two hundred to one—when, seven days after his departure, a completely unexpected incident meant that he was no longer taken at all.
Indeed, during that day, at nine in the evening, the director of the metropolitan police had received a telegraphic dispatch worded thus:
"Suez to London.
"Rowan, police director, central administration, Scotland Place.
"I am shadowing the Bank robber, Phileas Fogg. Send warrant of arrest without delay to Bombay (British India).
"Fix, detective."
The effect of this dispatch was immediate. The honorable gentleman vanished to make way for the bank-note thief. His photograph, deposited at the Reform Club with those of all his colleagues, was examined. It reproduced feature for feature the man whose description had been furnished by the inquiry. People recalled what there was of the mysterious in Phileas Fogg's existence—his isolation, his abrupt departure—and it seemed obvious that this individual, pretending to a journey around the world and propping it on an insane wager, had had no other aim than to throw off the agents of the English police.