A Visit to Europe and the Holy Land ... Fourth edition, etc

Preface

. In the following pages I have endeavored to describe what I saw, and the impressions re ceived, during a visit to some of the most interesting countries of the Old World, from the point of view of an honest and unpreju diced American. The time that I was abroad might be considered by some as insufficient to obtain an intelligent understanding of the matters about which I write. My answer to this is, that I have not attempted the impossible, and I am well aware that few men are able to write a thoroughly philosophical treatise on the historical, political, and social life of even their own native land. I am also cognizant of the fact that many foreigners, after a brief sojourn in other countries, attempt to discuss them intelligently, a work which they often times would not be able to accomplish if they had lived in them their whole lives.

Yet it must be admitted by all that previous thorough preparation and honesty of purpose will enable the traveller to make more correct ob- Preface. 4 servations, and to understand better the cus toms, character, and condition of the people whom he visits, than would be possible for those less honest or less intelligent, who might take up their residence among them many months, or even years. The book which I now present to the public does not pretend to high things, but is a simple narrative of the travels of one who never before had been out of America, where his ancestors have lived for nearly two and one-half centuries. I did not go abroad with the idea that everything American is right and everything in Europe wrong. I tried to look on all that I saw in an honest and truthful light. I was willing to learn, and to conform myself to the manners and way of life of those with whom I came in contact.

I did not expect that Europe would adopt American customs for my particular benefit ; in fact, I am glad that it did not, for by so doing my journey would have been much less agreeable. While I may have doubts whether I would prefer to live in Europe or America, I am certain that I would prefer to travel in Europe. I am aware of the fact that many books have been written on European and Palestine Preface. 5 travel ; but it is well known that hardly any of them have been written by Catholic Ameri cans. Our people, both Catholics and non- Catholics, have read too many books of travel written by dishonest writers, or else by those who are so narrow in their views and so ill-informed with reference to the countries through which they passed that their state ments and "facts" have been a mere travesty of truth.

I am convinced that there has been in America a long-existing need, but a poor supply, of books of travel written by travellers who are able to see with honest eyes, and who do not go abroad with preconceived prejudices, which they are determined to confirm by per verted facts and short-sighted observations. Being conscious of this need, I have endeav ored to do my share to remedy the deficiency by presenting this book to my co-religionists and countrymen, with the hope that they will find it entertaining and instructive. H. P. Fairbanks. Milwaukee, 1887. CONTENTS.

Chapter I. The Atlantic Voyage And The Emerald Isle

The afternoon of a bright day in the early part of the month of May, in the year 1884, found us aboard one of the large Atlantic steamers, which had thrown off her lines and was gradually floating out of New York harbor to wards the broad ocean. It was our first trip to the Old World, and the varied sensations, as we steamed down the bay past the various objects of interest towards the vast Atlantic, were new and strange to us. Our eyes lingered lovingly on the receding shores of our native land, and as we bid them adieu me mory dwelt fondly on the friends and loved ones whom we had left at home. There were three of us : Rev. Thomas Fagan, of Bay View ; Rev. Joseph Keenan, of Fond du Lac — two clerical friends — and myself, all of the Archdiocese of Milwaukee. A few weeks before we had decided that the time had come to make a visit to Europe and the Orient.

Our passage and rooms had been secured, and at last we were leaving America ; and, although the time for our travels was limited, perhaps we should never return, or, returning, what changes might take place during our absence ! Darkness at length settled down over the waters of the deep, and the morning only revealed to us a leaden sky and an expanse of black, gloomy waves. The record of one day was the repetition of another, except that some days were sunshiny and others were dismal with a dense fog or dark, threatening weather ; and sometimes the ever-restless ocean was less rest less, and sometimes wilder and more angry. Some of the passengers enjoyed themselves, and considered the voyage a most pleasant affair. I disliked it very much. I was not sea-sick, but my entire surroundings had a most depressing effect on my spirits.

If ever again I cross the Atlantic it will be on the fastest steamer that sails the sea. Too much imagination is very dis agreeable when you are a thousand miles from land, and your steamer, with its living cargo, is only a speck on the immensity of waters. I looked out upon the dark and troubled sea, and and the Holy Land. 13 sometimes not even a white-winged ship was in sight during the entire day. Neither did the sportive finny tribes nor monsters of the deep display themselves. A few sea-gulls here and there were seen enjoying themselves over the waves, many hundred miles from their rocky homes. Or have they a home? Is the ocean their home, or the rocky crag where they build their nests? My only real recreation was reading. I read the principal poems of two or three volumes of poetry ; but I enjoyed myself best in reading and taking notes from a work entitled Walks in Rome.

Our steamer — like all those of all lines sailing from New York to Liverpool, so far as I know — was thoroughly English. And as many of the passengers lived in some portion of the British Isles, for the last two days of the voy age there was a cheerful air about nearly every one in anticipation of home. Even we ourselves began to get animated at the thought that, if not approaching our own homes, we were drawing near the land of our ancestors. Early in the forenoon of the ninth day from New York old voyagers said that land was visible, and aided the less experienced travellers to get sight of it ; but a thin haze very much im peded their and our effort. It was not long, however, before the dim outlines of the Great Skellig Rock could be distinguished from the clouds and water by the more inexperienced eye.

Then other rocks appeared, and, finally, the blue line of the southern mainland of Ireland, and farther in the interior, rising higher, could be seen the mountains of Kerry. This was our first sight of the Old World, and the indistinctness with which we saw it lent a wonderful enchantment to the view. There, not far away, lay ancient Erin, the beautiful Emerald Isle, which even in modern times possesses such a magic influence over the hearts of all her children. We were approaching nearer and nearer to grand, faithful, Catholic Ireland, the ' ' Island of Saints and Scholars." It was not the land of my ancestors, but it was the home of the fathers and mothers and the birthplace of a large num ber of those who are among the nearest and dear est to me of any in this life. With my mind filled with memories of her past glories and sanctity, of her centuries of sorrow and martyrdom, and with the thought of her present hopes, with the affection I hold for many to whom the welfare of that island is dearer than life, I could not help being stirred with deep emotion, so that I hardly dared speak a single sentence lest the fulness of my heart might become too manifest.

Page 19. Blarney Castle The southern coast looked brown, bleak, and barren, and the waves could be seen dashing into white foam against it. A number of sails were in sight, indicating the near approach to busy life. The waters of the ocean gradually changed from their dark color into the most beautiful green that I have ever seen. We passed Fastnet Light and Old Head of Kinsale, while the coast became more settled and cultivated. We could see houses and villages, and, with the aid of a glass, trees and hedge rows, and green fields which, to the unaided eye, had appeared brown. About the middle of the afternoon on Satur day we arrived in the Cove of Cork, or harbor of Queenstown. Our steamer came to a stop, and we were transferred to a tender which would convey us to the land. The harbor is very fine, and the shores were covered with the typical emerald green.

As we started towards the shore we gave a farewell cheer to the great ship that had borne us safely across the Atlantic, and waved " adieu" to those companions of our voy age who did not land. Everything about us was now Irish. The voices, the laughter, the coun tenances, and the scene were all Irish. The sights and surroundings were thoroughly Irish, and I fully enjoyed them. At the landing we were met by a good-sized crowd of "Hibernian gems," old men with donkey-carts drawn by sleepy-looking donkeys, and boys of every size, with good-natured, smiling faces, ready to offer their services to carry our luggage to the hotel. Having chosen several as our escort, we walked with the procession to the nearest hotel, where we registered and were soon resting, thankful that we were once more on dry land, and in the Old World, where the day-dreams of our life were about to be realized.

But let no one imagine that in the midst of strange and at tractive surroundings we did not think of our far-off home and friends. Into my heart gradually and silently stole a frequent and unwelcome companion of my entire journey — homesickness — which tinged the bright green scenes around me with a sombre hue. After a brief rest we started out for a walk. It does not take long to see Queenstown, but as it was the first place that we had visited in Ireland everything seemed most interesting. We visited the new cathedral, and wandered through the streets and pleasure-grounds look ing at everything. I began thus early to gather leaves and flowers as mementoes, and bought some shamrocks to send home in letters which I would write in the evening. In the morning we attended Mass at the cathedral.

Two of our number did not usually say Mass, except in places of special devotion, as we knew that it was often inconvenient for the pastors of church es to have foreign priests saying Mass at irregu lar hours, especially on Sundays. After Mass we started for Cork by boat, as we wished to behold with our own eyes the far famed beauties of the river Lee. They are not overestimated. It was a fine Sunday morning in the month of May, and the ever-changing pic turesqueness of the scenery was all that the heart could desire. We arrived in Cork before noon, and, having chosen a hotel and learned the hour of dinner, we hired a jaunting-car for a trip to Blarney. It was our first ride on a jaunting-car, and from the accounts of some travellers we expected that it would be difficult to keep our seat.

Nothing is farther from the truth, as they are very easy and safe vehicles on which to ride. Cork was in its Sunday attire, and we saw it at its best. The inhabitants, who are good spe cimens of the southern Celt, were well dressed and respectable-looking, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. Crowds of peo ple who had attended late Masses were coming out of the churches, and, like those who attend High Mass in nearly all countries, were among the most genuinely respectable of the population of the city. To realize that we were in a real Irish city we had only to read the signs on the different places of business. The smallest as well as the largest had on it the name of an Irishman. This fact produced in us a new feel ing never before experienced : that all around us, the worst and the best, the poorest and the richest, the most humble and the highest of the land, were Irish.

This same peculiar feeling, changing according to circumstances, was to a certain extent produced by the thought of race or nationality in other countries, but its novelty gradually wore away. We passed by many fine pleasure-grounds and through several fine streets, one of which was particularly broad and attractive, with grand shade-trees on either side. The country was fresh and flowery in spring time and the ride was full of interest. We passed neat, whitewashed cottages and green fields surrounded by bright hedges ; and the grass land was frequently ornamented by sleek looking cows and contented-looking sheep. Sometimes a mild-looking donkey of gentle manners added variety to the appearance of the neighborhood. Pleasant groups of merry children completed the attractiveness of rural scenes.

We often saw a house in ruins, with walls crumbling and roof gone, and sometimes only a few piles of stones marked the site of a former home, to which perhaps the family love of centuries clings. When we asked the question about their former occupants, the driver answered: "They have gone to Amer ica" ; and the quiet stillness of. the day added sadness to our reflections. But there, at length, lay Blarney before us, with the far-famed groves, lake, and castle of Blarney. Passing through meadows and groves, we came to the castle. It is a very solid, romantic ruin, built by Cormac MacCarthy about the middle of the fifteenth century. We climbed up the heavy stone stairs until we were near the top, and in the vicinity of the celebrated blarney-stone. I would not attempt to kiss it for all the blarney possessed by the entire human race from the beginning of time until now.

For most per sons it is a most foolhardy thing to do. One of our number did not even see it ex cept from the ground below. The other member made up for this lack by a most gallant attempt to acquire the gift, which he already sufficiently possessed. He claims that he succeeded. I can testify that several men held him by the heels while he threw himself over the wide opening that looks down from the dizzy height of a hundred feet; that he grasped the irons, by which he let himself down towards the stone, and made several frantic efforts to press his lips and tongue against it ; but whether he actually succeeded will never be exactly known to any body but himself. As we returned through the grounds I loitered behind to hear the sweet notes of the feathered songsters that enlivened those romantic groves.

If there is such a thing as blarney in music, they possessed it of the most bewitching kind. But why should they not possess it? They breathe the pure air of that magic locality, and drink the clear water of thatmysterious lake, and live and love and sing out their souls in the charming retreats of those mystic groves. We returned to Cork by the middle of the afternoon, in time for dinner. After dinner we started out to visit the city. Almost the first sounds that greeted our ears were " The bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the river Lee." We visited every church in the city but one, and all in which there were afternoon ser vices were filled with worshippers. The congregations appeared devout and the services were stately and solemn, according to the rubrics, and breathing the spirit of the church.

Cork was one of the largest British or Eu ropean cities which I remember to have seen having no street-cars ; but her people know how to observe a Christian Sunday. On Monday morning we left Cork for Dub lin. It was our first experience on European railway-trains. From all the American criti cisms I had heard about the compartment cars, I did not expect to like them ; but I was mistaken. They are not so finely built as ours, but, excepting the Pullman and simi lar coaches, in many respects I prefer them. On American trains I usually get a headache, but rarely did I get it on those of Europe. During our two visits to Ireland we passed through thirteen counties, and obtained a very good idea of the country. We now again saw Blarney Castle in the distance, and also obtained a fair and extended view of the Galtee mountains.

Soon after noon we arrived in Thurles, county of Tipperary, and concluded to stop over until the evening train. The Archbishop of Cashel, who resides here, was making a visitation of his diocese, and there fore was not at home; but we were kindly received by one of the priests attached to the cathedral, who showed us everything of inte rest connected with the ecclesiastical buildings of the place. The cathedral is the finest, and I should judge the largest, church that I saw in Ireland. It possesses a magnificent high altar of marble, and an exquisite tabernacle made of rare and antique marbles obtained in Rome and other places by the late archbishop. The grand chime of bells was set ringing for our benefit, and played several of the national airs of Ireland. After leaving our kind entertainer we took a leisurely stroll through the town, passing some interesting ruins of the middle ages ; but we were more interested in the streets, houses, and people than in anything else, for this was our first visit to an Irish country town.

Some ballad-singers — an aged man and his wife and daughter — were moving slowly down the street, singing a ballad with sad air and words, re counting the sorrows and hopes, and the patriotism and faith of the people. And, after all, a very strange people they are — a people to whom sorrow has become an inheritance whicli they treasure and love almost equally with their innocent joys. And why should they not love the memory of their sorrows ? For sorrow is their mother. Joy may be their pure, smiling sister ; and even she, with her face wreathed in smiles, has the features and sad eyes of her mother. But the sorrowful Irish mother, who has nourished them on her breast and directed their eyes to heaven, has always had faithful children. Why then should they not sing in sweet and plaintive notes the story of their fidelity ?

Leaving Thurles, we continued our journey towards Dublin, passing up through the Golden Vale of ancient Erin, past the Devil's Bit and Slieve Bloom Mountains, and past villages and towns of historical associations and ruins. Be fore the shadows of evening had rested upon the earth, but after the sun was already set, the train made quite a long delay at Kildare, which gave us a good opportunity of viewing its round-tower and ecclesiastical ruins in the twilight. Kildare was a pleasing picture as it appeared in the mellow light of departing day, and it seemed even now beautified and hal lowed by the Christian learning and sanctity of a glorious past, when St. Bridget and her great monastic establishments blessed Ireland. We arrived in Dublin rather late in the even ing, and at once took a carriage to the Impe rial Hotel, on O'Connell Street, formerly Lower Sackville Street.

On our return to Dublin we stayed at both the Imperial and Morrison's hotels. The next morning we hired a jaunting-car and drove through the principal parts of the city. We saw the old Parliament House, Trin ity College, Dublin Castle, the Four Courts, the Custom-house, and other important build ings. On our return to Dublin the noted and historic buildings of the city became to us more familiar objects, and made a more lasting impression on our memory. We went to the Zoological Gardens, where I was most inter ested in a very cross Irish raven, and a good specimen of the Irish wolf-dog. The keeper informed us that it is now the only one in existence ; certainly there are but two or three living specimens of this symbolical Irish dog. We drove through Phœnix Park, which is one of the finest in the British Isles.

It com prises 1,760 acres, is seven miles in circumference, and enjoys many delightful views. The spot where the assassination of the late chief secretary and under secretary took place was pointed out, which was marked by a cross in the ground. It was one of the most public places of the park, with a wide, unobstructed view in every direction, not even a tree or shrub near it ; an altogether more public place than I had supposed. We next drove to Glas nevin, and as we wandered through the silent, shaded streets of the city of the dead we saw the tombs of many celebrated men, of which the grandest, that of O'Connell, rises in form and height like an ancient Irish round-tower. We finished the ride by driving to St. Patrick's Cathedral. It is in the hands of Protestants, but possesses great interest for Catholics, who earnestly pray that one day it may be re stored to its rightful owners and service.

It was founded by St. Patrick in the year 448 over a well where he had baptized the king of Dublin. This well was seen during the re cent repairs made on the church. The present edifice was built by Archbishop Comyn in 1192, and is a grand and chaste specimen of Gothic architecture. So strong and devotional is the hope of Catholic Dublin that this cathedral will again be the dwelling-place of the In carnate God on our altars, and that its magni ficent organ and sweet and powerful chimes of "joy-bells" will ring out their joyful peals of praise to God on that welcome day, that no other church has ever been dedicated to St. Patrick in Dublin. Later in the day each of us started out on the particular excursion that most took his fancy. I took the tramway for Clontarf, to look over the ancient battle field of Brian Boru, to wander around in the neighborhood, to look out upon the beauties of the bay and its sur roundings, and meditate and dream on the great events of the past and make them seem real in the present.

It was a clear, beautiful afternoon, and that quiet suburb of Dublin was in an almost ideal state of repose. The few persons whom I met had such modest ways and quiet manners, the leaves fluttering in the faint breeze, and the birds singing in the trees were so gentle, that neither act of theirs nor unkind breath of nature disturbed the calm surface of my soul, which, like a placid lake under a summer sky, mirrored scenes of beauty and peace, while its more sensitive depths felt the touch of the spirit of joy. To the north of the bay the black, bleak-looking Hill of Howth raised its historic head ; over the bay to the south the Dublin mountains calmly lay, three peaks more noble than the rest standing against the southern sky. I wandered out into the country under old, magnificent trees and through large and well-kept pleasure-grounds.

In this walk in the suburbs I met but few persons, among them a beggar-woman with her child who asked for alms — the only time I was asked for charity during my visits to Dublin. It seems to me that I must have got out into that quiet neighborhood where Brian Boru prayed while his army fought the invaders. And in the realms of imagination, in whicli I walked almost as much as in those of realitj-, I do not know that I should have been sur prised if I had heard the sounds of battle breaking upon the stillness of the day, and had seen in the distance towards Dublin the standards of ancient Erin waving in Tomar's Wood, or had seen the ancient monarch of Ireland praying in his tent while others fought. While his sons and countrymen fought he prayed, but by prayer he fought with the golden sword of Jeremias given to Judas Mach abeus, and, like him, gained the victory.

But he who prayed for those who fought sealed the victory with his life's blood. On my way back I saw an ancient well with the inscription: "Well of Brian Boru."

Chapter II. Wales And England

The next morning we took passage on the Shamrock, a packet, for Holyhead, where we should arrive in five hours. After a few months we would return and make a longer stay in Ireland, but now we wanted to hasten on to wards the East. Dublin Bay was so brightly reflected in the morning sun and my eyes were so dazzled that I did not appreciate it so well as I did the day before, which led me to suspect, perhaps incor rectly, that it is seen to best advantage from the land. In less than five hours of a not unplea sant passage we were drawing near to the Welsh coast. At Holyhead we connected with a fast train for London. On the train we pass ed across the Holy Isle, and isle of Anglesea, and the whole northern part of rugged, moun tainous Wales. The scenery is very romantic, with its fine views of bays and sea on one side, and its picturesque mountains on the other, and its forests, its fields, and excellent houses.

Its houses, even in the country, are well built and of good material, and, judging from a hasty look, equal to those of any country through which we passed. The quick succession of wild and beautiful scenes stirred within me a poetical feeling which manifested itself in the beginning of a poem : When brave Llewellyn led his host. When Wales was proud and free, Where mountain cliffs and rock-bound coast O'erlook a stormy sea, No people ever fought more brave Than they on mountain heights For freedom or an honored grave, Their country and their rights. Over the borders in England we passed through the city of Chester, whose Gothic cathedral was built in the eleventh century for the Benedic tines by Hugh, Earl of Chester, assisted by St. Anselm. During the remainder of the afternoon we whirled through the beautiful farm country of England, where between gently-rising hills lay many smiling vales.

We rushed past green meadows and pastures surrounded by well trimmed hedges with gateways, on either side of whicli stood fine shade-trees, which, with fre quent groves dotting the landscape, made up a repetition of rural scenes to captivate the hearts of lovers of the peaceful and beautiful in nature. The large-eyed, contented-looking cows no long er looked in wonderment at passing trains, but grazed quietly or hardly raised their heads to see us, while others rested sleepily in the shade of some noble old oak or stately elm. Among the other towns which we passed was Rugby, and I took in every object of interest in it or its surroundings that came within the range of my vision. Not that I remembered much about the place, but faint glimpses of the school days of " Tom Brown " stole across my memory ; and although the events recorded in a book read in my college days, when but sixteen years of age, were not very clear to my mind, I remembered that there was near the town a pleasant stream running through green fields, where the young student enjoyed his sports, and the scenes new to my eyes were brightened by the memories of years ago.

Such scenes always remain green in the hearts of old boys. During the afternoon we sometimes glided quickly along by the side of a river, whose grassy banks, sylvan shades, and sparkling waters commingled to form a pleasing succession of bright pictures. It was near sunset when we passed Rugby ; and some time before we reach ed the end of our day's journey night came, and Page 41 The Church of the Madeleine. we rushed on through the darkness towards Lon don. Ou our arrival we put up at the Euston Hotel, which belongs to the railroad company, in which the accommodations were good ; but on our return we preferred a more central place, and took rooms at the Golden Cross Hotel, near Charing Cross. All London seems to centre at Charing Cross. The next morning we rose early and looked out of our windows at great, smoky London.

Long before our rising we were unable to sleep on account of the noise for which London is noted. It was a holyday of obligation, and our first interest was to find a church where we could attend Mass. After some inquiry and search we found a church of rather hum ble pretensions in the neighborhood. Having assisted at Mass and returned to the hotel for our breakfast, we started out to see the city. Our first objective point was the City Bank of London, in Threadneedle Street, on which we had letters of credit. We took an omnibus to Charing Cross, and from there found our way to the bank. On this and our return visit we became quite well acquainted with this latter route. In fact, the only part of London that 1 got to know in any kind of familiar way was that leading from Cheapside, past St. Paul's Cathedral and Ludgate, down Fleet Street and the Strand, past Trafalgar Square and Charing Cross, through Whitehall and Parliament Street to Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Par liament.