Holman’s own explanation of the way in which sightseeing of this sort ministered to his pleasure is of decided interest.
“The various organs of sense,” he says, “are the mere instruments by which the impressions of external objects are conveyed to the mind, which then reasons upon and draws its inferences respecting the nature of these objects. The conclusions thus arrived at are, consequently, mere ideas.... It matters not through what senses the impression from which these ideas are derived are transmitted. The reader will probably now comprehend the manner in which I arrived at what perhaps may be termed an ideal knowledge of the places I visit.
“Accompanied by an intelligent friend or guide, I examine every place of interest—touch what I can and hear of all, and then, combining the information thus gained with previously acquired knowledge of the subject and some portion of imagination, a picture is produced comprising in my mind a strong impression of reality, and answering the purpose, to me, almost as well as if I had actually seen it.”
To follow Holman as he calmly discusses his own feelings concerning the blindness which had come upon him is of decided psychological interest. Suspense was particularly difficult for him to bear.
“Any irritation of this nature renders me the most anxious of mortals,” he writes; “but let the excitement cease, no matter whether in an agreeable manner or the reverse, and my mind at once regains its tranquility so that I become comparatively comfortable.
“I then look back and smile at the previous storm, and wonder that it has exerted so powerful an influence over me. For instance, with respect to the one great affliction it has been my fate to suffer—the loss of sight—my mind was, during the period of suspense in which I was long detained as to the final result, in a state of excessive agitation and distress; but no sooner was it ascertained that the visual fire was quenched forever than it at once rose superior to misfortune and began to seek for and to find occupation and consolation in a variety of pursuits, among which the love of traveling, as the reader will perceive, has not been the least prominent.”
The humors attending his odd position were by no means lost upon him. “Recollecting that I am suffering from some deprivation,” he observes with gentle irony, “people often mistake the sense and begin to shout at me as if I were deaf; in short, this feeling is so general that almost every one who is not intimately acquainted with me elevates his voice in conversation.
“When I am desired to give my hand to examine anything by the touch, they take it as if my sense of feeling were deficient, squeezing it rudely, and pressing it forcibly on the object of examination, as if I were about to ascertain the condition of a bird or beast; whereas my sense of touch is most delicate, and all that I require is to pass the hand lightly over the surface of the body, and then the result is both pleasing and satisfactory.”
Occasionally, of course, this eager traveler made ludicrous mistakes. Once, when he was being entertained in Siberia by a family of distinction, he inquired from his friend what extraordinary animal it was that was making the singular snoring sound on the other side of him, which had for some time attracted his attention. The “animal” proved to be one of the principal counselors of the town who had a peculiar obstruction in his nasal organs which made him breathe with a wheezing noise.
This Siberian journey was the one in which Holman especially delighted. He had entered upon the arduous undertaking “with feelings heightened by the recollections of interest formerly derived during eight years’ service on the coast of North America.” Oddly enough, he expected to find a great similarity in the climate and productions of the two countries. He was especially interested, moreover, in the primitive simplicity and manners of the Russian and Tatar tribes.