Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Twenty-Three to Twenty-Five

In which Passepartout's nose is lengthened enormously; is accomplished the voyage across the Pacific Ocean; a slight glimpse of San Francisco is had--a political meeting; and after which our narrator, having reached American soil, can finally rest the "terrible accents" tag for a while, as long as Passepartout doesn't speak again, or Mrs. Aouda, or any of the four principals, really.



The illustrations get distributed rather oddly here, having three in Chapter 23 and none in Chapter 24. Maybe an uneventful ocean voyage was not high on the list to illustrate, while funny Japanese clothes and circus outfits were?

2:24 - Passepartout came out wrapped in an old Japanese robe.

The "god Tingou" that Batulcar's long-nosed performers purport to honor actually refers not to a specific god, but to mythical creatures called tengu from Japanese folk religion, which are also a type of god in Shintoism. They were originally considered as demons or bringers of war, portrayed as large birds of prey, but they eventually were viewed more as protective but unpredictable nature spirits. Their image was also anthropomorphized, and the bird beaks became the very long noses we see here in the circus.

The "Car of Juggernaut" that the long-nosed performers recreate in their human pyramid is a Hindu temple car, a large wooden chariot used to transport representations of Hindu gods during festivals. This specific one transported the Lord Jagannath during the festival of Ratha-Yatra, and its supposed reputation for accidentally crushing people under its wheels gave us, of course, the English word "juggernaut."

Now, why these performers are using mythical creatures from Japanese folklore, presented as a specific individual god, to recreate an image from a Hindu festival, is an open question. Perhaps Verne is making some statement about how American showmen such as Mr. Batulcar present foreign cultures.

Sure, let's go with that.

11:04 - The monument fell like a house of cards.

11:04 - Followed by Passepartout with his wings on his back.

23:28 - When he fell upon the wharf, the planks
of which were worm-eaten, he almost fell through.

31:11 - Fix, throwing himself in the way, received the blow in his place.

If you would like to read along, my translation by Stephen W. White can be found courtesy of Choptank Press on Google Books. If you prefer one of the other options, the George Towle translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation can be found at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Twenty-One and Twenty-Two

In which the master of the Tanakadere runs great risk of losing a reward of two hundred pounds; Passepartout sees very well that, even at the Antipodes, it is prudent to have some money in one's pocket; and in which our narrator makes a big deal about something no one else would likely notice.



In putting together the previous post while at work on Monday, I seem to have left the copy of Around the World I've been reading from at my desk. Naturally, the last two days have been snow days in which I was unable to retrieve it. Now, if you remember all my palaver about translations from the first installment, you'll recall that said paperback contained the Stephen W. White translation, not the much more commonly found George Towle translation or the rather dated Henry Frith version, and that I was unable to find the White translation online. Now, obviously, I didn't want to record an installment using a different translation, so after a little more thorough searching I managed to find a Creative-Commons printing from Choptank Press on Google Books, which has no download option but does have a full online preview, so I used that. And that means that those reading along can now use the same edition I'm using! I'm sure this is exciting news to everyone.

These chapters were a little extra-long, so I only got through two of them this time around and thus we only have three illustrations:

2:43 - "The young woman seated aft, felt quite affected looking at the ocean."

10:22 - "The Tankadere was raised like a feather by the wind."

It was pretty much only when we join Passepartout in Yokohama that I think any notes are necessary. At around 21:40, reference is made to the nearby city of Jeddo being the former residence of the Tycoon. First, "Jeddo" is an archaic name for Edo, which itself is the former name of Tokyo. During the Tokugawa period in Japan that ended in 1868, Japan was technically ruled by an Emperor (the "Mikado" the text also refers to), but practically speaking was ruled by the military-feudal governors, or shoguns. In 1600, the shogun of the Tokugawa clan essentially took control of the Japanese government and set up its base of power in Edo, as opposed to Kyoto (formerly called and referred to in the text as "Miako"), where the Emperor was based. This is why Tokyo, and not Kyoto, is the current capital of Japan. Now, taikun (or "tycoon," and yes that's where that term comes from) was the term used to refer to the Tokugawa Shogun, essentially the ruler of the country, when dealing with foreign countries.

Look, I took a college class in the History of Modern Japan twelve years ago to fulfill a liberal arts core requirement, and I'm not letting that go to waste.

About thirty seconds later, which discussing the architecture of the city in a sentence with very strange and confusing syntax, reference is made to "Treaty Promontory," which refers to Honmoku-misaki, or "Treaty Point," which (near as I can tell) is the southern peninsula bounding the Yokohama harbor on the map here.

At 25:01, the text talks about women wearing "the national garment, the 'kirimon, a sort of dressing-gown." Now, the kirimon is one of the versions of the Government Seal of Japan, so I can only assume this is a mistaken reference to the kimono instead, which is clearly what they are describing. While I would definitely say Verne did his homework, I wouldn't necessarily take everything he describes (especially after being translated) as a perfectly accurate description of these foreign cultures.

Last, we hear about how it is sacrilege to kill beeves, which is just an archaic plural for "beef," which used to refer to cows themselves and not just the meat derived thereof.

27:23 - "Night came on. Passepartout returned to the native quarter."

If you would like to read along, I finally found my translation by Stephen W. White online by Choptank Press on Google Books. If you prefer one of the other options, the George Towle translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation can be found at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Eighteen to Twenty

In which Phileas Fogg, Passepartout, and Fix each goes about his own business; Passepartout takes a little too lively interest in his master, and what follows; Fix comes in direct contact with Phileas Fogg; and in which our narrator rerecorded a full chapter after accidentally giving a new character the wrong nationality.



Uh oh, our heroes have been split up! What are the chances that they'll ever be able to find each other again, on this world-wide trek? Pretty good, probably.

3:39 - "He astonished the crew, and helped at everything with the agility of a monkey."

In the bay of Hong Kong, Verne mentions numerous types of boats, including junks, tankas, and sampans. Junks are probably what come to mind for most people when they think of "Chinese ships," as they're a type of sailing vessel that's been in use in China for nearly 2,000 years, and are still used today, to some degree. Sampans are probably the other type of Chinese boat people think of: the flat-bottomed boat, often propelled by a pole and maybe having a small shelter on board, mostly used in rivers. "Tankas," though used in the text to refer to boats, near as I can tell is actually a reference to the Tanka people, a Chinese ethnic group that traditionally lives on boats (more or less as outcasts.) Oh, and he also says that the flowers boats made the harbor look like "parterres," which are a formal sort of garden.

Our heroes are scheduled to get on board the Carnatic to sail from Hong Kong to Yokohama. The name presumably refers to the Carnatic region of southern India, though it's possible it could be referring to Carnatic music, a popular type of classical Indian music from that area.

At 9:26, Verne also mentions "macadamized streets," which I'm sad to say has nothing to do with macadamias. No, "macadam" was an early method of paving roads by using small stones mixed with some sort of binder. It was invented by (and named for) John Loudon McAdam around 1820, and was much cheaper and more effective than previous methods of road construction, which involved laying down thick rock foundations. His methods pretty much directly precede the asphalt roads we now have. Eventually, people started using tar as the binding agent, giving us a word that might be more familiar to us in modern times: tarmac.

10:19 - "Passepartout noticed a certain number of natives...."

17:49 - "'Listen,' said Fix, in an abrupt tone."

'Round abouts 18:33, Fix talks about the robbery that took place "the twenty-eighth of September, ultimo." "Ultimo" comes from a term from business correspondence, ultimo mense, which simply means "last month." Or he's saying the bank was robbed by a giant robot, which would also be cool.

25:15 - "'Your honor is looking for a boat?'"

Unlike the Carnatic, I'm unable to figure out what the name of the Tankadere might be referring to, though it sounds like it's probably in some way related to the Tanka people mentioned above. Any ideas?

30:07 - "'I regret having nothing better to offer you.'"

But what of poor Passepartout? We'll have to find out next time!


If you would like to read along, I unfortunately can't find my translation by Stephen W. White online, but the George Towele translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Fifteen to Seventeen

In which the bag with the bank notes is relieved of a few thousand pounds more; Fix has not the appearance of knowing anything about the matters concerning which they talk to him; one thing and another is talked about during the trip from Singapore to Hong Kong; and in which the narrator is pleased that he gets to use his jowly voice, because he likes his jowly voice.



That's enough of India! on to Hong Kong! And welcome to our new major cast member, Mrs. Auoda (and yes, she's "Mrs." in the book, even though she was unwillingly wed and her husband is now dead, but WHATEVER, Nineteenth Century.)

6:15 - "'My shoes!' cried Passepartout."

12:09 - "On every occasion she showed him the liveliest gratitude."

21:15 - "Once or twice only he had a glimpse of Mr. Fogg."

24:03 - "It is charming, even in its meagerness."

Weirdly, no notes this time around. I guess it all seemed more or less straightforward. Maybe I'll take that time to make a correction: In the first installment, I gave some current values for the sums of money being discussed, to put them into context we can understand in 2014. Well, I think I calculated them the wrong way 'round. See, I used an inflation calculator to figure out what the value would be in modern British money, then used current exchange rates to figure out what that would be in US dollars. Upon reflection, it would probably be more accurate to convert the amounts to dollars using historical exchange rates, and then use inflation to bring it up to the modern day. Doing this, we see that the £55,000 stolen from the bank would actually be about $5.7 million today, and the £20,000 wager translates to about $2 million today. Slightly less than my initial estimation, but still pretty considerable sums of money.

Hmm. Actually, that math works out pretty well. Looks like any time you hear an amount in pounds in this book, multiply by 100 and you'll get a pretty close estimate of what it would be in modern dollars. That's easy.


If you would like to read along, I unfortunately can't find my translation by Stephen W. White online, but the George Towele translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Twelve to Fourteen

In which Phileas Fogg and his companions venture through the forests of India, and what follows; Passepartout proves again that Fortune smiles upon the bold; Phileas Fogg descends the entire splendid valley of the Ganges without ever thinking of looking at it; and in which the narrator wonders about the cultural accuracy of the novel, is thankful for the first female character in the book, and eagerly awaits her achieving the power of speech.



And so, we pass through most of India and our first real adventure with our heroes, we say goodbye to the good Sir Francis Cromarty, and greet our new major character, Mrs. Auoda. Let's see the visuals!

1:48 - "He laughed in the midst of his somersaults."

In this area, we run into a couple of perhaps unfamiliar but fairly prosaic words: "syenite" at 2:41, which (as you can pretty much tell from context) is a kind of rock; "betel" at 5:44, which is a kind of plant possibly used for dye at some point I guess; and "damascened" at 7:01, which means metalwork inlaid or etched with wavy patterns, related to damask where similar patterns are made in cloth, and both of which derive their name from the ancient city of Damascus. 

9:56 - "But this unfortunate did not seem to make any resistance."

14:41 - "The guards of the rajah, lighted by smoky torches..."

19:18 - "A cry of terror arose."

So around the 25:00 mark, we launch into this rather lengthy passage where the poet-king Ucaf Uddaul describes all the physical charms of a very lovely queen. Thing is, it seems that this "Ucaf Uddaul" is completely made up. I think Verne put this in so that he could get away with passages like "the wealth of her bosom, where youth in its prime displays its most perfect treasures," because... boobs, right? He's talking about boobs?

Oh, also, "Ucaf Uddaul" at 25:49 refers to the immortal sculptor Vicvarcarma, which I'm pretty sure means Vishvakarman, the Hindu deity of craftsmen and architects. Man, some of these archaic names, translated into French and then translated into English....

27:28 - "Passepartout, not at all frightened..."

30:51 - "Bands of Hindus of both sexes"

Anyway, I'm sure it's all clear sailing from here on out!


If you would like to read along, I unfortunately can't find my translation by Stephen W. White online, but the George Towele translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Nine to Eleven

In which the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean show themselves propitious to Phileas Fogg's designs, Passepartout is only too happy to get off with the loss of his shoes, and Phileas Fogg buys a conveyance at a fabulous price; and in which our narrator anxiously awaits our heroes' arrival in America, where he will not have to look up pronunciations of words and names with possibly archaic spellings every other sentence.



For real, I had forgotten just how many foreign place names are in this book, which seems an odd thing to forget about a book that's completely about traveling to a bunch of foreign places. I've tried to look up proper pronunciations for all of them (leading to these entries taking much longer to create than normal), but some of them don't have pronunciation guides I can find, or sometimes perhaps spellings that aren't used anymore and I can't find anything about them at all, so I just faked it as best I could. I apologize for any mispronunciations setting your teeth on edge every time you hear them.

Illustrations!

8:12 - They put in at Steamer Point.

Oh, and a couple of notes: Several mentions are made, starting at 1:50 of Sepoys, who are basically (as the text indicates) Indian soldiers. At 4:22, reference is made to the historians/geographers Strabo, Arrius (which looks like it actually refers to Arrian), and Artemidorus (not to be confused with this Artemidorus, who apparently wrote books about the divinitory meanings of dreams, or something.) 

9:12 - Passepartout, according to his custom, loitered about.

17:52 - The dancing girls in Bombay.

19:24 - He upset two of his adversaries.

The brigadier-general thinks about how Phileas Fogg's trip lacks transire benefaciendo, which is a Latin phrase meaning essentially "to travel and do good," something which Phileas certainly has no time for.

25:02 - The steam twisted itself into spirals.

At 25:08, the text defines "vihara" as a sort of abandoned monastery, but it seems that these specifically Buddhist monasteries are still very much in use.

At 27:30, Passepartout blames Mr. Fogg in petto for not bribing the railway engineer, with in petto meaning "privately." No, no big fight between master and servant.

Among the methods of transportation found at the end of the railway line, we hear about zebus, which are more or less as the text described them: "humped oxen;" palanquins, which is another word for "litters," those chairs or small rooms carried on poles by servants; and four-wheeled palkigharis, which I have NO IDEA what it is. The closest I can find is the palki, which appears to be another form of litter, which makes no sense with "four-wheeled." I dunno.

31:41 - They found there a half-tamed animal.

Last, the mahout (handily defined in the text) loads two howdahs on the back of the elephant for our heroes to ride in, where a howdah is, well, a carriage put on an elephant's (or sometimes a camel's) back for people to ride in, though it sounds in this case like it's not sitting atop the elephant's back, but more hanging on either side, like saddlebags.


If you would like to read along, I unfortunately can't find my translation by Stephen W. White online, but the George Towele translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters Four to Eight

In which Phileas Fogg surprises Passepartout, his servant, beyond measure; a new security appears on the London Exchange; the agent, Fix, shows a very proper impatience; we are shown once more the uselessness of passports in police matters; and Passepartout perhaps talks a little more than is proper; and in which our narrator assures you that there will be a speaking female character at some point.



All right, we're well and firmly on our journey now, and our heroes have used up nearly seven of their eighty days. And see, I told you that robbery was going to be important! We've got a few more illustrations from Messrs. de Neuville and Benett, along with a couple of notes:

5:17 - A poor beggar woman.

At 7:42, mention is made of "the Alabama affair" as a matter of much discussion. During the American Civil War, ships outfitted and sailed from British docks (especially a ship called Alabama) were used as military vessels by the Confederate navy, despite Britain's official stance of neutrality. The North, after winning the war, claimed that the British had not exercised due diligence, so in 1871 a joint commission was created to settle the matter. They found for the Americans and awarded damages, a result which the British people were... not fans of.

8:39 - There was not a reader, to whatever class he belonged,
who did not devour the columns devoted to Phileas Fogg.

And here we meet the redoubtable Detective Fix:

Detective Fix

Around the 14:00 mark, we have references to "M. Lesseps" and "Stephenson, the engineer. These are Ferdinand Marie, Vicomte de Lessep, a French diplomat best known for spearheading the development of the Suez canal that features so prominently here, and Robert Stephenson, a prominent English civil engineer who was brought in to evaluate the feasibility of the project.

At 16:45, Mr. Fix bemoans the current timid state of British criminals by making mention of Jack Sheppard, an English thief of the early 1700s who was notorious for having escaped from custody four times before being caught a final fifth time and hanged, all before his 23rd birthday. Plays and novels about him or with characters clearly based on him kept him in the British public consciousness long after his death.

On the docks of Suez, around 17:46, we meet a crowd of fellahs, who are Middle Eastern or Northern African agricultural workers, and then the British consul refers to "breaking bulk," which basically means unloading some individual pieces of cargo.

20:20 - After having vigorously pushed back the fellahs
who overwhelmed him with their offers of service....

28:00 - "My watch! A family watch...."

If you would like to read along, I unfortunately can't find my translation by Stephen W. White online, but the George Towele translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

Around the World in Eighty Days, Chapters One to Three

In which Phileas Fogg and Passepartout accept each other--the one as master, the other as servant; Passepartout in convinced that he has found his ideal; and a conversation takes place which may cost Phileas Fogg dearly; and in which our narrator for some reason insists on reading more books with necessary accents, and feels oddly put out by Mr Verne supplying his own "In which" chapter headings.



Whee, new book! We're going around the world, and as such will get to hear be butcher all SORTS of accents! Phileas Fogg and Passepartout are at least passable, perhaps, but Phileas's Reform Club buddies... meh. Anyway, much like Treasure Island and Anne of Green Gables, this requires a surprising number of notes, which I'll intersperse with the illustrations from the original 1873 French edition of the book, by Alphonse-Marie de Neuville and Léon Benett. First up, we have the map chronicling the route our heroes take, in what appears to be the endpapers of the book:

And then of course is the title page, in the original French: Le Tour du Monde en Quatre-vingts Jours. Early on, this was translated into English sometimes as The Tour of the World in Eighty Days or Round the World in Eighty Days before the more familiar English title finally won out.

Following that into the actual chapters, we first meet our hero, the extremely punctilious and apparently impressively bewhiskered Phileas Fogg:

And right off the bat, in the very first sentence, we need to note that the "Sheridan" referred to as having died in what is now Fogg's house is noted Irish playwright and poet Richard Brinsley Sheridan, and that the sentence further gets two things wrong. First, the correction I made from "1 Savile Row" to "7 Savile Row," apparently unique to this specific publisher, doesn't matter much as he actually died in number 14. Also, he died in 1816, not 1814. Some English translations have corrected that one, though since the mistake is in both the original and in mine, I'll keep it in.

Whist, which will come up quite a bit in this book if memory serves, is a card game that evolved to a form more commonly known in the US as Bridge, though younger generations may be more familiar with the related games Hearts or Spades. Basically, you have two teams of two, with partners sitting opposite each other. All cards in the deck are dealt out, so everyone has 13 cards. One suit is designated the "trump" suit. Players take turns being the first to lay down one card. After that first card is laid down, everyone else has to go around and lay down a card in the same suit as that first card. If they don't have a card of that suit, they can lay down any other suit. Whoever lays down the highest card of that lead suit wins the four cards, called the "trick." If, however, one of those "can lay down any other suit" cards is of the trump suit (remember that?) it wins the trick. So, say Diamonds are the trump suit. The first player lays down the Ten of Clubs. The next players lay down the Jack of Clubs, the Three of Clubs, and the Four of Diamonds. Whoever laid down that Four of Diamonds wins the trick. If it had been a Four of Clubs, then the person who laid down the Jack would have won. Whichever team has the most tricks after all cards have been played wins that round. If you play to best out of three, that's called a "rubber," which we'll try not to giggle too much about because it will be mentioned more than once.

Got all that? Good. Following that, we've got:

8:17 - "Ionic columns of red porphyry." Or, scroll-topped columns made of a red igneous rock containing large-grained crystals embedded in a finer-grained crystal material.

And then we meet Passepartout:

His name means "master key" in French, explaining his remark about a "natural aptitude for withdrawing from a business."

Then at 13:07 we have "whose somewhat academic posture Angelica Kauffmann has marvelously reproduced under her pencil." Ms. Kaufman (her preferred spelling of her name in English, not used in my translation) was a noted Austrian painter who was successful as a portraitist in Britain in the eighteenth century.

Following on the heels of that, at 13:12 we have reference to two noted watch and clockmakers of the eighteenth century, Pierre Le Roy (written in my translation and thus mispronounced by me as "Leroy) and Thomas Earnshaw, both noted for their marine chronometers, the clocks ships needed to help them determine their longitude and thus needed to remain very precise under difficult weather and motion conditions.

At 13:25, the phrase "the expression of his feet and his hands" is in quotes in the text, making me believe it was a reference to some specific quote of phrase, but I can't find any reference to it that isn't this translation of this book. So, probably quotes for no reason?

14:21 - The "Frontin" and "Mascarille" Passeportout is favorably compared to are servant characters in French farces.

At 20:15, Phileas cuts his uncut copy of The Times. It seems that at the time, newspapers were printed on very large sheets which were folded down but could be cut apart to make it easier to read. Or something.

When Phileas has his dinner at 20:32 he adds "Royal British Sauce," which apparently no one is certain about but could be a reference to the French term "English Sauce," which means "custard."

And our last illustration for these chapters, we see the moment of the bet, with Phileas and his Club friends sitting and blustering around the card table in what I can only imagine is a terribly, terribly British manner:

28:50 - "Well, Mr. Fogg, yes, and
I bet four thousand pounds!"

Last, we've got some monetary amounts to put into modern perspective: the £55,000 stolen from the bank would equal roughly £4,500,000, or around $7,300,000, today. So, yeah, a pretty good haul. Meanwhile, the £2,000 reward would be about £162,000, or about $265,000 (plus 5% of what's recovered, which would be an additional max of around $365,000). This would similarly make Phileas's £20,000 wager equal about £1,620,000, or about $2,650,000. So, for the rest of the book, remember that some seven million dollars were stolen, for which there is a reward of about six hundred thousand dollars, and Phileas made a bet for nearly 2.7 million dollars. Pretty high stakes all around.

Oh, and I'd like to thank Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection for helping me identify what translation I have, since the publishers themselves did not see fit to mention it, and to Ibiblio.org for specific information about translation quality.


If you would like to read along, I unfortunately can't find my translation by Stephen W. White online, but the George Towele translation can be found at Zvi Har’El’s Jules Verne Collection, which is also where I got the illustrations, or the more accurate but rather fusty Henry Frith translation at Project Gutenberg. No reading ahead, though!

"Rikki-tikki-tavi," by Rudyard Kipling

In which a mongoose is found by a family, and defends them against the wicked cobras who live in their garden, and in which our narrator thinks you should just be grateful that the humans were the only ones with attempted British accents.



"Rikki-tikki-tavi" was originally published in 1894 in Kipling's The Jungle Book (which, yes, has more than just the Mowgli stories in it), and is now perhaps most familiar to people of recent generations through the 1975 animated version by Chuck Jones. The book, and thus this story was thoroughly illustrated by Rudyard Kipling's father, John Lockwood Kipling. Despite being a short story, Kipling the Elder illustrated it to nearly Denslowian proportions, so all of them are after the jump.