My Trip Around the World: August, 1895-May, 1896

In Short

This memoir chronicles an expansive 1895-1896 world tour undertaken by a woman in her sixties and her family. Moving from the Canadian Pacific to Japan, China, India, and Egypt before concluding in Europe, the narrative functions as both a personal travelogue and a Victorian-era cultural assessment. It remains a notable historical artifact because it preserves the unfiltered perspectives, prejudices, and observational habits of a well-to-do American traveler at the turn of the century, offering a window into how the "Orient" was framed for the Western reader of that time.

The Story

The narrative commences in August 1895, when the author departs Chicago with a sense of trepidation that borders on "heart failure." Accompanied by her brother, sister-in-law, and nephew, she traverses the North American continent by rail before boarding a steamer for Japan. Her arrival in the "Land of the Rising Sun" sets the tone for the entire voyage: a blend of genuine aesthetic appreciation and a reliance on intermediaries. She describes the scenic beauty of Niko and the industrial canals of Osaka, yet she is equally preoccupied with the logistical friction of travel, such as the persistent presence of fleas in tea houses and the rigid social hierarchies of the native population.

As the party moves into China and India, the author’s focus shifts toward a comparative study of colonial influence and local customs. In Canton, she navigates narrow lanes with the help of guides, expressing unease at the "gaping crowds." Upon reaching India, her observations become more clinical and detached; she details the caste system, the prevalence of famine, and the physical toll the climate takes on British civil servants. Her visits to the "Ghats" of the Ganges and the tomb of Johanara in Delhi are marked by a mix of fascination with historical architecture and a palpable discomfort regarding the lives of the poor. She describes the "dilapidated" state of native dwellings and the swarms of persistent beggars with a tone that fluctuates between sympathetic observation and judgmental distance.

The journey continues toward the Middle East, with a significant portion of the narrative dedicated to a tour of Egypt. Here, the author interacts with the landscape through the lens of a tourist industry already well-serviced by companies like Cook & Son. She visits the pyramids and bazaars, often employing local "dragomans" to manage the crowds, whom she frequently characterizes as aggressive or wretched. Despite the exhaustion of travel and the "unhealthy" gloom she perceives in local life, she remains committed to documenting the minute details of her surroundings.

After a final sweep through the galleries of Paris and a visit to royal stables in England, the author returns to America in May 1896. The conclusion is overtly patriotic; upon seeing the Statue of Liberty, her anxiety about the foreign world gives way to an effusion of nationalistic fervor. She presents the completed manuscript to her grandsons as a legacy, hoping that by the time they reach her age, the "problems" of the East will be solved and a "light divine" will have emerged in what she views as the world's darker corners.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author leaves Chicago in August 1895, grappling with the profound emotional weight of departing for a year-long excursion. The family moves quickly across North America, catching the Canadian Pacific Railroad toward the coast to begin their Pacific crossing.

Encounters in the East In Japan, the party experiences the contrasting beauty of mountain tea houses and the unsettling realities of local crematories. They move on to Canton, where the author describes the sensory overload of narrow, crowded streets and the complexities of foreign concessions.

Observing India and Ceylon The narrative examines the British administration of India, focusing on the infrastructure of irrigation and the rigid social stratification. The author balances descriptions of exquisite marble architecture with complaints about the "pestiferous" insect life and the poverty of the street-level populace.

Navigating the Nile The trip through Egypt is defined by visits to ancient ruins and the persistent demand for "backsheesh" from local guides and vendors. The author struggles with the heat and the persistent, clamorous crowds, finding relief only in the organized comfort of tourist-friendly services.

Return to the West The tour concludes with a refined stop in Paris and a brief stay in England to view royal memorabilia. The final leg across the Atlantic brings the author home, where she reconciles her international experiences with a fervent, song-filled declaration of love for her native country.

The People

The author, an American grandmother, serves as the central consciousness of the book. She is motivated by a desire to leave a legacy of "knowledge" for her grandsons, yet she is constantly hampered by her own "declining days" and "impaired health." She views the world through a lens of Victorian propriety, frequently seeking out the familiar comforts of European hotels while remaining at a distance from the native cultures she observes.

Her brother and his family are constant companions, providing the logistical support necessary for her to navigate the trip. They serve as her buffer against a world that she often finds overwhelming. Along the way, she encounters various "guides" and "dragomans" who are essential to her safety and progress; she treats these men as necessary, if sometimes frustrating, tools of the trade. Her incidental meetings with British colonial officers and expatriates, such as the gentleman she meets on the Caledonia, reinforce her sense of belonging to a global elite, as she finds their company more comfortable and "refreshing" than the local crowds she encounters in the bazaars and streets.

In Its Own Voice

"Have you ever had a desire so great that it became a controlling influence, and when that desire or wish was gratified and that day dream became a reality to feel an overwhelming sadness--a heart failure?"

The author reflects on the emotional cost of fulfilling a lifelong ambition of global travel at the very start of her journey.

"The road zigzags in many turns up the steep sides of the mountain, followed by a dashing stream issuing from Lake Chuzendi, known as 'Kenon-no-taks,' which falls in beautiful cascades and seethes over the dizzy heights, while our sturdy pullers keep up a tremendous pace."

This description captures the frenetic, controlled pace of the family's transit through Japan via jinrikishas.

"I hate to recall these poor, down-trodden people; is life worth living to them?"

This observation, made during a visit to Egyptian ruins, highlights the author’s persistent struggle to reconcile her own comfort with the stark poverty she witnesses throughout her travels.

What It's Really About

The book is fundamentally an argument for the superiority of Western civilization as seen through the eyes of a privileged, aging traveler at the close of the nineteenth century. It explores the tension between the romantic, "day dream" version of world exploration and the gritty, uncomfortable reality of colonial-era tourism. The author wrestles with the question of whether foreign cultures can be understood or appreciated without the mediation of British or European order. Her narrative suggests that the "problems" of the world are moral and spiritual vacuums that require the influence of Western education and governance to resolve. It is a document of its time, deeply invested in the idea that the traveler’s primary duty is to witness, categorize, and ultimately return to the safety of home.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of tourism will find this a fascinating, if sometimes challenging, read. It provides an unvarnished look at how the global traveler of 1895 navigated the world—relying on servants, colonial infrastructure, and a firm belief in their own cultural superiority. The author’s writing is precise and descriptive, especially regarding the landscapes and architectural marvels of Japan and India, and she is refreshingly honest about the exhaustion, illness, and "mal de mer" that defined her trip.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the author's period attitudes. Her descriptions of local populations often rely on stereotypes, and her frustration with the poverty she encounters can feel jarring or even cold to a contemporary audience. There is little attempt to engage with the perspectives of the people she meets; they are almost exclusively objects of observation or facilitators of her journey. If you can approach this as a historical mirror—a way to see exactly how a specific class of American traveler viewed the globe at the turn of the century—it is a valuable and evocative work. Its length and detailed accounts of shipping lines and hotel amenities provide a vivid, tactile sense of what it felt like to traverse the globe just before the dawn of the twentieth century.