The following text is excerpted from Voyage Round the World (1834) by James Holman (1786-
1857). Holman was a Lieutenant in The Royal Navy of England when he became totally blind from
an illness encountered on a sea voyage at age 25. He traveled extensively as a civilian the rest of
his life documenting his journeys. The following excerpt, from Chapter 1, is provided by The
Project Gutenberg at http://Gutenberg.net
Begin text
The passion for travelling is, I believe, instinctive in some natures. We have seen men persevere
in their enterprises against the most formidable obstacles; and, without means or friends, and
even ignorant of the languages of the various countries through which they passed, pursue their
perilous journeys into remote places, until, like the knight in the Arabian tale, they succeeded in
snatching a memorial from every shrine they visited. For my own part, I have been conscious from
my earliest youth of the existence of this desire to explore distant regions, to trace the varieties
exhibited by mankind under the different influences of different climates, customs, and laws, and
to investigate with unwearied solicitude the moral and physical distinctions that separate and
diversify the various nations of the earth.
I am bound to believe that this direction of my faculties and energies has been ordained by a wise
and benevolent Providence, as a source of consolation under an affliction which closes upon me
all the delights and charms of the visible world. The constant occupation of the mind, and the
continual excitement of mental and bodily action, contribute to diminish, if not to overcome, the
sense of deprivation which must otherwise have pressed upon me; while the gratification of this
passion scarcely leaves leisure for despondency, at the same time that it supplies me with
inexhaustible means of enjoyment. When I entered the naval service I felt an irresistible impulse
to become acquainted with as many parts of the world as my professional avocations would
permit, and I was determined not to rest satisfied until I had completed the circumnavigation of the
globe. But at the early age of twenty-five, while these resolves were strong, and the enthusiasm
of youth was fresh and sanguine, my present affliction came upon me. It is impossible to describe
the state of my mind at the prospect of losing my sight, and of being, as I then supposed,
deprived by that misfortune of the power of indulging in my cherished project. Even the suspense
which I suffered, during the period when my medical friends were uncertain of the issue,
appeared to me a greater misery than the final knowledge of the calamity itself. At last I entreated
them to be explicit, and to let me know the worst, as that could be more easily endured than the
agonies of doubt. Their answer, instead of increasing my uneasiness, dispelled it. I felt a
comparative relief in being no longer deceived by false hopes; and the certainty that my case was
beyond remedy determined me to seek, in some pursuit adapted to my new state of existence, a
congenial field of employment and consolation. At that time my health was so delicate, and my
nerves so depressed by previous anxiety, that I did not suffer myself to indulge in the expectation
that I should ever be able to travel out of my own country alone; but the return of strength and
vigour, and the concentration of my views upon one object, gradually brought back my old
passion, which at length became as firmly established as it was before. The elasticity of my
original feelings being thus restored, I ventured, alone and sightless, upon my dangerous and
novel course; and I cannot look back upon the scenes through which I have passed, the great
variety of circumstances by which I have been surrounded, and the strange experiences with
which I have become familiar, without an intense aspiration of gratitude for the bounteous
dispensation of the Almighty, which enabled me to conquer the greatest of human evils by the
cultivation of what has been to me the greatest of human enjoyments, and to supply the void of
sight with countless objects of intellectual gratification. To those who inquire what pleasures I can
derive from the invigorating spirit of travelling under the privation I suffer, I may be permitted to
reply in the words of the poet (Oliver Goldsmith),
Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame,
Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame;
Their level life is but a smouldering fire,
Unquench'd by want, unfanned by strong desire.
Or perhaps, with more propriety, I may ask, who could endure life without a purpose, without the
pursuit of some object, in the attainment of which his moral energies should be called into
healthful activity? I can confidently assert that the effort of travelling has been beneficial to me in
every way; and I know not what might have been the consequence, if the excitement with which I
looked forward to it had been disappointed, or how much my health might have suffered but for its
refreshing influence.
I am constantly asked, and I may as well answer the question here once for all, what is the use of
travelling to one who cannot see? I answer, Does every traveller see all that he describes?—and
is not every traveller obliged to depend upon others for a great proportion of the information he
collects? Even Humboldt himself was not exempt from this necessity.
The picturesque in nature, it is true, is shut out from me, and works of art are to me mere outlines
of beauty, accessible only to one sense; but perhaps this very circumstance affords a stronger
zest to curiosity, which is thus impelled to a more close and searching examination of details than
would be considered necessary to a traveller who might satisfy himself by the superficial view,
and rest content with the first impressions conveyed through the eye. Deprived of that organ of
information, I am compelled to adopt a more rigid and less suspicious course of inquiry, and to
investigate analytically, by a train of patient examination, suggestions, and deductions, which
other travellers dismiss at first sight; so that, freed from the hazard of being misled by
appearances, I am the less likely to adopt hasty and erroneous conclusions. I believe that,
notwithstanding my want of vision, I do not fail to visit as many interesting points in the course of
my travels as the majority of my contemporaries: and by having things described to me on the
spot, I think it is possible for me to form as correct a judgment as my own sight would enable me
to do: and to confirm my accuracy, I could bring many living witnesses to bear testimony to my
endless inquiries, and insatiable thirst for collecting information. Indeed this is the secret of the
delight I derive from travelling, affording me as it does a constant source of mental occupation,
and stimulating me so powerfully to physical exertion, that I can bear a greater degree of bodily
fatigue, than any one could suppose my frame to be capable of supporting.
End text
1857). Holman was a Lieutenant in The Royal Navy of England when he became totally blind from
an illness encountered on a sea voyage at age 25. He traveled extensively as a civilian the rest of
his life documenting his journeys. The following excerpt, from Chapter 1, is provided by The
Project Gutenberg at http://Gutenberg.net
Begin text
The passion for travelling is, I believe, instinctive in some natures. We have seen men persevere
in their enterprises against the most formidable obstacles; and, without means or friends, and
even ignorant of the languages of the various countries through which they passed, pursue their
perilous journeys into remote places, until, like the knight in the Arabian tale, they succeeded in
snatching a memorial from every shrine they visited. For my own part, I have been conscious from
my earliest youth of the existence of this desire to explore distant regions, to trace the varieties
exhibited by mankind under the different influences of different climates, customs, and laws, and
to investigate with unwearied solicitude the moral and physical distinctions that separate and
diversify the various nations of the earth.
I am bound to believe that this direction of my faculties and energies has been ordained by a wise
and benevolent Providence, as a source of consolation under an affliction which closes upon me
all the delights and charms of the visible world. The constant occupation of the mind, and the
continual excitement of mental and bodily action, contribute to diminish, if not to overcome, the
sense of deprivation which must otherwise have pressed upon me; while the gratification of this
passion scarcely leaves leisure for despondency, at the same time that it supplies me with
inexhaustible means of enjoyment. When I entered the naval service I felt an irresistible impulse
to become acquainted with as many parts of the world as my professional avocations would
permit, and I was determined not to rest satisfied until I had completed the circumnavigation of the
globe. But at the early age of twenty-five, while these resolves were strong, and the enthusiasm
of youth was fresh and sanguine, my present affliction came upon me. It is impossible to describe
the state of my mind at the prospect of losing my sight, and of being, as I then supposed,
deprived by that misfortune of the power of indulging in my cherished project. Even the suspense
which I suffered, during the period when my medical friends were uncertain of the issue,
appeared to me a greater misery than the final knowledge of the calamity itself. At last I entreated
them to be explicit, and to let me know the worst, as that could be more easily endured than the
agonies of doubt. Their answer, instead of increasing my uneasiness, dispelled it. I felt a
comparative relief in being no longer deceived by false hopes; and the certainty that my case was
beyond remedy determined me to seek, in some pursuit adapted to my new state of existence, a
congenial field of employment and consolation. At that time my health was so delicate, and my
nerves so depressed by previous anxiety, that I did not suffer myself to indulge in the expectation
that I should ever be able to travel out of my own country alone; but the return of strength and
vigour, and the concentration of my views upon one object, gradually brought back my old
passion, which at length became as firmly established as it was before. The elasticity of my
original feelings being thus restored, I ventured, alone and sightless, upon my dangerous and
novel course; and I cannot look back upon the scenes through which I have passed, the great
variety of circumstances by which I have been surrounded, and the strange experiences with
which I have become familiar, without an intense aspiration of gratitude for the bounteous
dispensation of the Almighty, which enabled me to conquer the greatest of human evils by the
cultivation of what has been to me the greatest of human enjoyments, and to supply the void of
sight with countless objects of intellectual gratification. To those who inquire what pleasures I can
derive from the invigorating spirit of travelling under the privation I suffer, I may be permitted to
reply in the words of the poet (Oliver Goldsmith),
Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame,
Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame;
Their level life is but a smouldering fire,
Unquench'd by want, unfanned by strong desire.
Or perhaps, with more propriety, I may ask, who could endure life without a purpose, without the
pursuit of some object, in the attainment of which his moral energies should be called into
healthful activity? I can confidently assert that the effort of travelling has been beneficial to me in
every way; and I know not what might have been the consequence, if the excitement with which I
looked forward to it had been disappointed, or how much my health might have suffered but for its
refreshing influence.
I am constantly asked, and I may as well answer the question here once for all, what is the use of
travelling to one who cannot see? I answer, Does every traveller see all that he describes?—and
is not every traveller obliged to depend upon others for a great proportion of the information he
collects? Even Humboldt himself was not exempt from this necessity.
The picturesque in nature, it is true, is shut out from me, and works of art are to me mere outlines
of beauty, accessible only to one sense; but perhaps this very circumstance affords a stronger
zest to curiosity, which is thus impelled to a more close and searching examination of details than
would be considered necessary to a traveller who might satisfy himself by the superficial view,
and rest content with the first impressions conveyed through the eye. Deprived of that organ of
information, I am compelled to adopt a more rigid and less suspicious course of inquiry, and to
investigate analytically, by a train of patient examination, suggestions, and deductions, which
other travellers dismiss at first sight; so that, freed from the hazard of being misled by
appearances, I am the less likely to adopt hasty and erroneous conclusions. I believe that,
notwithstanding my want of vision, I do not fail to visit as many interesting points in the course of
my travels as the majority of my contemporaries: and by having things described to me on the
spot, I think it is possible for me to form as correct a judgment as my own sight would enable me
to do: and to confirm my accuracy, I could bring many living witnesses to bear testimony to my
endless inquiries, and insatiable thirst for collecting information. Indeed this is the secret of the
delight I derive from travelling, affording me as it does a constant source of mental occupation,
and stimulating me so powerfully to physical exertion, that I can bear a greater degree of bodily
fatigue, than any one could suppose my frame to be capable of supporting.
End text
The Blind Explorer James Holman
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