Around the World in Seven Months

In Short

This narrative chronicles a seven-month global voyage undertaken at the close of the 1880s. Traveling by steamship and railway, the narrator provides a window into a world in transition, where the reach of Western technology and commerce increasingly intersects with ancient cultural landscapes. It serves as a meticulously detailed record of a bygone era of travel, capturing the contrast between the comfort of the "Pullman palace car" and the raw, sometimes jarring realities of life in Asia and the Middle East as witnessed by a Victorian-era observer.

The Story

The journey begins in September 1889, as the narrator boards a train in New York, praising the luxurious ease of American rail travel before crossing the continent to San Francisco. From there, the voyage shifts to the Pacific, where the narrator joins a group of missionaries bound for China and Japan. Upon arriving in Japan, the narrative blooms into a series of local excursions. The narrator is struck by the juxtaposition of modernizing infrastructure—such as the massive tunnel project connecting Lake Viwa to Kioto—and traditional scenes, including the "monotonous" temple visits and the graceful, if fleeting, performances of dancing girls in tea-houses.

As the itinerary moves to China, the tone shifts to a stark appraisal of local conditions. The narrator expresses a clear preference for the stability brought by British influence, contrasting the "horrors" of Canton with the perceived safety of British-governed outposts. This perspective deepens as the journey progresses into India. Here, the narrative is defined by grand visits to the Tâj Mahal and the palaces of local potentates, like the Maharajah of Benares, mixed with frequent complaints regarding the "indifferent" hotels and the perceived lack of sanitation in many Indian cities.

The middle of the journey is marked by the mechanical wonders of the age—the Suez Canal and the steamships that navigate the Red Sea. The narrator observes the landscape of Sinai with a mixture of historical reverence and detached curiosity. Upon reaching Cairo and Jerusalem, the focus turns toward the intersection of faith and tourism. The narrator climbs the Great Pyramid with surprising physical vigor and later experiences a moment of profound reflection atop the Mount of Olives, connecting the physical geography of the Holy Land to biblical memory.

The final leg of the trip takes the narrator through the grand cities of Europe, including Berlin and Dresden, where the experience is filtered through visits to galleries and royal reviews. The journey concludes in April 1890, after a total of 27,816 miles. The final pages offer a pragmatic accounting of the trip, complete with a meticulous list of distances traveled, underscoring the narrator’s desire to impose order and measurement upon the vast, complex expanse of the globe.

How It Unfolds

The Pacific crossing The voyage commences with the transition from American rail to the steamship Rio-de-Janeiro, where the narrator observes the diverse company of missionaries and diplomats. This leg establishes the rhythm of life at sea, characterized by social interactions, engineering observations, and the anticipation of new ports.

Japan’s modernization The narrative follows a series of excursions through Kioto and Osaka, focusing on the blend of traditional culture and infrastructure projects. The narrator balances appreciation for the scenery with a growing impatience for repetitive temple sightseeing.

The Indian experience The journey through India presents the most profound cultural contrasts, involving both the splendor of the Tâj Mahal and the frustrations of rudimentary hotel accommodations. The narrator engages with local officials and observes the stark realities of daily life, ranging from the filth of the streets to the grandeur of marble palaces.

The Holy Land and home The final major stops in Egypt and Jerusalem offer a blend of physical challenge and historical contemplation. The narrator concludes the journey with a brisk tour of Europe, ultimately returning to New York with a sense of completion and a detailed ledger of the miles covered.

The People

The narrator serves as the primary lens for the trip, a man of his time who values comfort, efficiency, and the "civilizing" influence of Western infrastructure. He is driven by a curiosity that is both expansive and constrained by his own cultural biases. Throughout the journey, he interacts with a variety of figures: "Bessie," the young daughter of the Spanish Legation secretary; missionaries navigating their own transitions to new lives; and local figures like the Maharajah of Benares and Colonel Fyaz. The narrator’s interaction with these individuals is often polite and observational, yet he remains an outsider, consistently measuring foreign customs against the yardstick of his own American or British-influenced standards. He remains largely unchanged in his fundamental outlook, though he gains a deeper appreciation for the historical weight of the locations he visits.

In Its Own Voice

"I remarked what heavy consumers of coal such shaped boilers must be, and the engineer said there was no room to put in any other kind."

The narrator applies his pragmatic, analytical mind to the technical specifications of the steamship Rio-de-Janeiro before crossing the Pacific.

"The translation of this word is pullman-car, and thus we have the extraordinary coincidence of the same name for a crude vehicle, drawn by a man, and for the splendid Pullman palace cars of America."

In Japan, the narrator reflects on the irony of sharing a name between the rudimentary jinrickisha and the pinnacle of American train luxury.

"I know no more touching tale in all history, and it being well told on the spot by one of the guides, was very impressive."

The narrator recalls the story of the Emperor who built the Tâj Mahal, demonstrating his susceptibility to the emotive power of historical sites.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is an exploration of the late-Victorian "globalization" of travel. It examines the tension between the ease provided by modern technology—steam engines, telegraphs, and well-managed railways—and the underlying, often uncomfortable reality of moving through vastly different societies. The narrative is preoccupied with the concept of "civilization," using it as a metric to judge cleanliness, order, and social organization. Underlying the plot is the question of how an individual from a rapidly industrializing nation maintains his identity and comfort while traversing a world that feels both marvelously ancient and, in his view, dangerously disorganized.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of travel will find this book a valuable, unvarnished primary source. It captures a specific moment in time when the world was becoming smaller but remained deeply divided by cultural and economic disparities. The narrator’s voice is remarkably consistent—warm, curious, and occasionally rigid. You will find his physical descriptions of landscapes and architectural sites to be quite precise, even as his commentary on the people he encounters reflects the period attitudes and occasional prejudices of an American traveler in the 1890s.

The book is an ideal companion for those who enjoy "armchair travel" with a historical perspective. It does not possess the polished, self-aware prose of modern travel writing; rather, it offers the unfiltered, day-to-day observations of an individual processing a world that is moving faster than ever before. You may find the length of the list of distances at the end and the repetitive nature of the hotel critiques slightly wearying, but the sheer logistical scope of the journey—covering nearly 28,000 miles in an era before commercial aviation—remains impressive. It is a testament to a time when travel was a deliberate, arduous, and grand undertaking, best suited for readers who appreciate the grit behind the glamour of a global tour.