Between these journeys it was Holman’s custom to expand into books the journal notes he had made en route. The resulting volumes (formally dedicated, by permission, “To the King’s Most Excellent Majesty”) are packed with shrewd comments upon men and manners, and with delightful descriptions of travel. Through these books (now extremely rare) we are enabled to-day to enter into the experiences of one of the most interesting personalities of which the last century can boast.
“If my undertakings—for such they may without vanity be called—be productive of no other benefit,” he says, “than that of proving to the world how much may be done by a cheerful perseverance under a heavy affliction—how great obstacles may be subdued by resolution—how the void of sight may be peopled by an active mind, and the desert fertilized by industry—how much hope exists even in the darkest page of life—and how many resources against discontent and loneliness this beautiful and varied world presents—I shall be content to think my labors have not been altogether destitute of utility.” This rather labored though earnest sentence does not, however, represent Holman at his best. His earlier books are full of spontaneity. While still a young man he derived as much pleasure from writing of his journeys as from making them.
The manner in which the blind man lets us share his sensations makes his work peculiarly interesting. After we have been wondering for a while how he gets any fun out of the long, hard journeys in the dark, he suddenly answers the question thus: “I must candidly admit that I have derived little gratification from the external objects that presented themselves, and am indebted to the resources of my own mind for the interest I felt; and in particular the contemplation of future plans, as well as the satisfactory progress I have already made with regard to my present ones which others have so often deemed impracticable.”
The truth is that Holman experienced a boy’s delight in proving to his friends that he could travel in safety and have a good time into the bargain. “I find less difficulty and inconvenience in traveling among strangers than people imagine, and prefer being left to my own resources,” he says. “Habit has given me the power of acquiring, by a kind of undefinable tact, as correct ideas of objects as the most accurate description would give.”
Of course, humorous situations were of frequent occurrence. Once at Bordeaux he heard water splashing at the side of the coach. This went on for something like an hour before he discovered that the other passengers, the better to insure their safety, had left the vehicle and crossed on a ferry-boat, leaving him to float with the carriage on a raft across the river Dordogne.
“I found that, while I supposed myself sitting in the coach office yard at Bordeaux,” he narrates, “I had actually traveled four miles by water without having entertained the least idea of such an adventure.”
In this same book Holman describes his custom of traveling with leading-strings.
“Finding myself suffering from headache, which I attributed to want of exercise,” he writes, “I made signs for the driver to stop that I might get out of the coach and walk for a time; he was quite indisposed to accommodate me until I manifested my intention of jumping out.
“He now thought well to stop his horses and proffer his assistance; however, I refused it, and succeeded in finding the back part of the coach, where I secured my hold by means of a piece of cord (which when traveling I make a rule to carry always in my pocket), and which in the present instance served me as a leading-string.
“I then followed in this way on foot for several miles, to the no small amusement of the villagers, who laughed heartily and even shouted after me.”