Lakhasly

Mr.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 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.Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814.

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 nev-
er 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 regu-
larly 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 correct-
ed, 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 ex-
actly 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 en-
trance hall with its mosaic flooring, or in the circular gallery with its dome supported by twenty red
porphyry lonic 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 ec-
centricity.
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 grena-
dier 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