Nations are not only apt to speak with jealousy of the productions and climate of other nations, but the same jealousy is felt even by the inhabitants of provinces of the same kingdom, and counties of the same provinces. Whether this be commendable or not may become others to determine; I own that I was in some degree unwilling to be pleased so much with a view of Lough Lene, having a strong affection for another part of the kingdom, and some jealousy in consequence of that affection: yet beauty prevailed so entirely over this disposition in human nature, and so captivated alike my fancy and my judgement, that it was impossible not to feel delight, or to withhold admiration.’’
Such is the testimony of Dr. Barton of Trinity-College, Dublin, to the beauty of the Lakes of Killarney, which he visited in the year 1751, and which were then known only by the title he gives them of Lough Lene25. He is one of the earliest persons who brought them into notice. As a proof of the strong impression they made upon him, he drew up an account of them with the
Thomas Gray, Elegy in a Country Churchyard.
Dr. Barton did not go into these parts with any particular view of visiting the lakes; the purpose of his journey was to examine the gems of the county of Kerry, and it was in the pursuit of this object that his attention was so much attracted by another. Perhaps beauties are never so striking as when they present themselves while the mind is wholly unprepared for them. There is one feeling which I can scarcely conceive it possible for any person to experience on seeing the lakes of Killarney, — disappointment. However busy fancy may have been in forming to itself beautiful pictures, scarcely can any be imagined too line for the reality to satisfy. It was not till about four o'clock that I arrived at Killarney, consequently too late to think of seeing much that evening. From Major Hunter, whom I have mentioned at Cork, I was favoured with an earnest recommendation to Mrs. Coffey the mistress of the principal Hotel, particularly desiring her to provide me with a good and civil guide. This she did; and having dined, I inquired where I could go and take a general view over the lakes, for something I must see, and there was not sufficient daylight remaining to do more. From the flatness of the country between Glan-Flesk and Killarney, and the no less flat situation of the town itself, nothing was hitherto to be seen but the tops of the surrounding mountains. My guide said that I could walk through Lord Kenmare's grounds, and from the top of a hill there see entirely over the Lower Lake. Upon this expedition I set out. I had read and studied very
I had many times been told that I must not hope to have fine weather at Killarney; that scarcely did a day pass there without rain: and I had frequently heard an anecdote of Charles Fox, à-propos to the purpose, cited. Some years ago this distinguished character went to spend a few days with Lord Kenmare, whose house is just without, or scarcely without, the town of Killarney; invited by His Lordship to come and see the beauties of the country. He arrived in a heavy rain: he was told it would be but a shower, but it did not cease that day. The next was the same, a heavy rain; still he was told that it would be but a shower, and soon over. The shower, however, continued from day to day; and during five days that he stopped, there was scarcely an hour's interval from it: when, tired with hopeless waiting, he gave up the matter and took his leave; able to say he had been at the Lakes of Killarney, not that he had seen them. About three years after, Lord Kenmare being in London, went to visit him, when the first question Mr. Fox asked was, "Well, my lord, is the shower at Killarney over yet?" It was my fortune also to enter Killarney in a heavy rain, which had come on almost from the moment that we quitted Glan-Flesk; nor could I fail often to think of Mr. Fox. The evening was, however, clear and fine.
The assurance of this uncertainty in the weather occasioned me to make one determination long before I arrived on the spot; this was, that the first day of my stay which afforded any prospect of being clear and fine, I would go up the mountain of Mangerton, that being the object of all others for which a fine day was of the greatest importance. On returning from our walk, the guide said, he supposed he might order a boat for the next day, to go upon the lake.
Nor was I deceived. At seven my guide made his appearance: — "Well, Ma'am, there isn't the least bit of cloud about any of the mountains; we may be sure of a fine day." — I was perfectly of the same opinion; so I gave him full authority to hire ponies for the expedition; one for myself, one for my servant, and a third for him, which I found also was to be employed as a sumpterhorse; for a basket of provisions, with drink, I soon perceived was an indispensable requisite in whatever direction, or upon whatever element, we were to go. At eight o'clock the ponies were at the door: I expected to have seen little mountaineers not much bigger than donkeys; but to my utter astonishment, behold three tall horses, any of them big enough to be driven in a postchaise. "Are these your ponies? "I inquired. — "Yes, Ma'am." — "Have you none larger?" — The man stared, he seemed not to know what to answer; it was an objection to his cavalry wholly unexpected. He looked first at me, then at the nag; "I don't know, ma'am," he answered very seriously; "the man has but two that will carry ladies at all, and I believe they are much of a size; — most ladies think this quite big enough." — "You are sure the other is not larger?" — "Yes, ma'am." — "Are you sure it isn't less?" — "I don't know, but it may be." — "Because I should like it quite as well, if it wasn't above half the size." — The man stared again more eagerly than ever; a new light seemed thrown upon the matter; my real objection to the animal burst all at once upon his mind; I was surprised it had not done so sooner: he had not the usual quickness of his countrymen, or else he was so bewildered with
The mountain of Mangerton is not one of those that immediately border the lakes. It rises behind the Turk-mountain, the prominent feature round the middle or Turk lake, a long valley running between the two mountains, through which is the nearest road to Kenmare town. The height of this mountain above the level of the lake seems by no means ascertained with any accuracy; it has been many times described as the highest mountain in Ireland: it is now fully decided not even to be the highest of those in the vicinity of the lakes; Magillicuddy's reeks are much higher, though the difference between them is yet undecided. Mr. Weld, who appears to have been anxious to have their respective, and consequently their relative heights accurately ascertained, is yet obliged to leave the matter in doubt: he seems to think that the highest point of the reeks may be estimated at about three thousand five hundred feet: according to one computation, Mangerton is only seven hundred feet less; that is, two thousand eight hundred feet in height: another computation states its height at no more than two thousand feet. The ascent is easy, in no part very steep, though in some places rather stony. Within three hundred feet of the
This Punch-bowl is a vast chasm in the top of the mountain, encircled for the greater part by almost perpendicular rocks. On the side towards the Turk-mountain alone is an interval of rock at which the water is accessible, and from which it issues out in a small stream; this runs down the side of the mountain, generally appearing insignificant, though occasionally swelled to a fine cascade. Only one spring is known to feed the lake, the water of which is so extremely cold that it is scarcely possible to bear the hand in it; yet this water never freezes. The rocks by which the chasm is surrounded rise so directly from the water that it is impossible to go round its edge; the only way to make the circuit of it, is by the tops of the rocks. The guide inquired whether I would go round; to which I replied, By all means. We ascended therefore among blocks of stone and coarse herbage, but found nothing difficult in the ascent, and pursued our course to the opposite side of the lake. What an extraordinary scene here presented itself! Another lake exactly of a similar nature to the Punch-bowl appeared, the two separated only by a ridge of rock covered with the same coarse herbage. I can compare the whole to nothing so well as an enormous bridge of a nose with the eyes on each side. How extraordinary that, amidst all the accounts I have read of this country, this very striking, very remarkable feature, and indeed I think it far from one of the least remarkable, is never mentioned! It appears to me so extraordinary, that I sometimes am ready to ask myself, Did I dream of what I have related? or why should that so strike me, which no one before has thought worthy of remark? — But no: I certainly did walk along this ridge running between the Devils Punch-bowl and Coommacopple, or the Horses Glen, — so the guide told me the other lake was called, — at the height of three hundred feet above the water on each side; — a ridge with but just the breadth of a good footpath at the top. I would recommend every body to come so far round the Punch-bowl as to see so remarkable a feature. — I would not recommend any one who has not very firm nerves to attempt walking along the ridge, nor, if the nerves be ever so firm, to go without a guide accustomed to the place. How this can have been hitherto unnoticed, is a question I am at a loss to resolve. — Of the numbers who have visited Mangerton, has nobody ever thought of going round the margin of the Punch-bowl? — Surely this cannot be
After crossing this extraordinary bridge I proceeded round the other side of the lake where is a great extent of plain, not absolute bog, but of very soft spongy soil overgrown with coarse herbage, extremely fatiguing to walk over. At the edge of the precipice is a spot, about half way along the side, where the herbage is cleared away in a small circle, and a few loose stones are scattered about; this is called the highest point of the mountain. Owing to the extent of surface, from no part is the view seen completely round. Bantry Bay and the Kenmare river were visible in their whole length, looking scarcely wider than common rivers; but then the lakes were not to be seen, they were too much on the other side; and when we came again within sight of the lakes, the two great estuaries were lost. So much does this mountain rise above all immediately bordering the lakes, that every part of both lakes, with the stream by which they are united, lay as in a map at our feet, the stream scarcely appearing wider than a line in a map drawn for one. Beyond the lakes was a vast extent of country terminated by Dingle Bay and the mountains which coast the northern side of it. Never was a more favourable day for such an excursion; it was beautifully calm and serene, nor was there an object within the compass of the eye but was perfectly clear and distinct; not the least cloud or haze intervened throughout the whole wide extended horizon. Indeed, it was a glorious spectacle. Even the guide, though he evidently could not altogether digest the irregularity of the proceeding, confessed that I was quite right not to lose such a day; they might not perhaps have such another for weeks.
It is curious to observe, in all places which are much the resort of travellers, the ingenious devices the people about have, each to pluck a feather out of the pigeon's wing. I have spoken of guides at the Giants' Causeway who made their intrusions a pretence to ask for money. In the present instance
The boats for company to row upon the lake are provided by Lord Kenmare, who has placed them under the direction of one man, Commodore or Admiral Plunket, to whom applications for one must be made, and they are at a fixed price according to the size of the boat, whether it requires six or four oars, and whether it is to go to the Upper Lake or not; it is, if I recollect rightly, half-a-crown more for going thither than for navigating only the Lower or the Turk . Whether it is a part of Lord Kenmare's regulation I cannot say; but it is expected that a freight of provisions and whiskey shall be carried on board, or else two shillings a man eating is charged by the day. I suspect this to be an illicit charge; but in such a place impositions are regarded as positive privileges. Ross Castle, to which I had gone the evening before, is the regular place of embarkation. This is the remains of an ancient fortress, once of considerable strength, and it would now be a very picturesque object, with
I walked down to the castle, through a part of Lord Kenmare's grounds. We were accompanied by a man with a fiddle and a bugle-horn, a constant appendage to all the boat-parties, who sounds his long-drawn notes to the echoes, which they reverberate a thousand and a thousand times. The boat is also armed with a cannon; perhaps, — no, I don't think it is quite a twenty-four pounder, — say a half-pounder, and we shall perhaps be right, — to be levelled also at the echo, which she answers in thunders. Thus equipped, we proceeded on our voyage. If I had been astonished at the swelling sea I crossed from the coast of Antrim to the island of Rathlin, I was scarcely less astonished at the swell of the waters upon this lake. Not that the waves of the lake were at all to be compared with the rolling mountains of that northern sea, but it astonished me much, on this small receptacle of fresh water, to see any thing that pretended to imitate, even at a humble distance, the turbulence of the vast ocean. Nor is the imitation so very humble; — the lake is sufficiently subject to sudden squalls and gusts, from the eddies about the mountains, to render sailing very hazardous, and the use of sails is prohibited by Lord Kenmare. This great eddy of the waters seems to be principally within a tract forming a sort of triangle between Ross Island, Glenaa Point, and the Island of Innisfallen.
Our destination was to the Upper Lake. Passing the fine mountain Glenaa through the bay at its foot, and the pretty little cottage upon the bay, we proceeded
There is something very fine and romantic in the whole course of this stream which unites the two lakes. The forms of the mountains exhibit great variety, and there are in many places rocks in the stream, which exhibit such fantastic figures, that fantastic names have been given to them: one, in particular, which has a good deal of resemblance to the hulk of a ship, is called the Man of War; but such is the rocky nature of the channel, that it requires a person well skilled in the navigation to steer the boat right. The entrance to the Upper Lake is by a narrow pass between two masses of rock, little more than the width of the boat. This pass has the name of Coleman's Eye: a man by name Coleman, as the tradition says, was pursued by some enemy, and in the ardour of flight leaped over the pass, leaving the impression of his foot upon the side where he alighted. The particulars of this fact are in general very minutely related by the boatmen; but as we had the admiral himself on board, who came as steersman, I thought the crew were rather in awe at his presence, and not so talkative as they would otherwise have been. At first clearing the pass, one is not sensible of being in the Upper Lake, there are such a number of rocks rising above the water, among which the boat still winds. In a short time, however, this sublime scene opens full to the view, and most sublime it is. The watery expanse is every way bordered by vast mountains; and the passage by which it was entered being almost instantly lost to the view, it seems completely locked in, as if there were no possibility of quitting it but over
Oh, how magnificent was the sight, to watch first the gradual breaking of the clouds, and at length their final dispersion, with the bursting forth again of the glorious sun! Indeed, they who have not seen the Upper Lake of Killarney under such circumstances, have scarcely half seen it, they have but imperfect ideas of its sublimity; it answered well the being wet through. The whole lake is spotted over with little rocky islands; not wholly naked, but in general clothed with shrubs and trees, among which the arbutus is the most prevailing. This tree is indeed to be seen abundantly all about the lakes, though in the greatest abundance about the Upper Lake. It grows to a size which I never saw before: in Provence these trees are common, and bear very fine fruit, but do not grow to near the size of those about Killarney. I have seen also very fine ones in the county of Wicklow; and there was one at Newtown Mount Kennedy, a place which I did not see, exceeding much, as I was informed, any about Killarney: not half of it is, however, now existing. Many people recommend the autumn as the best time for going to Killarney, because the arbutuses are then in flower; but, though beautiful, they are in my opinion such a minor consideration in comparison with the nobler features of Nature which claim the attention, that I should never make them my particular object, and rather say, Go when the days are at the longest, that the shades of night may shut the sublime scene from the sight for the shortest space possible.
Ronayne's Island is the largest among the little archipelago of this lake. The cottage upon it is one of many built about the lakes by the polite attention of Dr. Smith, for the accommodation of strangers. In all there are inhabitants, so that dinner may be cooked if a party chooses to dine at them; but they must carry their own provisions, potatoes excepted, which the tenants can always furnish. A gravel-walk from the cottage winds up among the rocks,
When the weather had cleared and the provisions were consumed, we returned to the boat, and began the regular survey of the lake. Several islands were pointed out to me by the names which they bore, some others were not particularized; and inquiring what their names were, I was told they had none. — "How happens that?" I asked. They did not know; the others had been named by different parties visiting the lakes, and nobody had had the fancy to give them names; if I had no objection, they should like very much to name one after me: then pointing to a rock very near us, they said that had no name, we might land and christen it. I would not, however, permit my name to be given: as the habit of the world has been ever to pronounce it as if it were a Plum-tree, I was sure that the island would never be called any thing but Plum-tree Island; and a tradition would soon be affixed to it that it was once covered with Plum-trees. I therefore declined being godmother, at least so far as giving my own name to it was concerned: but the men seemed to have a great desire that it should be christened, and begged that I would give it some name; any that I fancied. "Very well," I said; "it shall be called Kean's Island, after Mr. Kean the great actor." — Oh, they had often heard of him; they should like that name exceedingly; they wished he would come to Killarney. We landed then; it was a pretty rock, with some arbutuses and
We now proceeded in the examination of the lake. Its shores are very much indented with creeks and inlets formed by streams descending from the mountains. That of Cromiglaun is the most considerable and the most beautiful. The entrance is by a narrow pass between two almost perpendicular rocks; when soon an extensive basin opens to the view. Steep craggy cliffs, on which are scattered a few straggling trees, border it on one side; on the other are masses of dark and naked rock, while in the centre is a wood of oaks, from which a river is seen issuing. Proceeding about half a mile up the basin, some cottages appear, round which are a few small inclosures, and presently a beautiful cascade is seen above the trees pouring down a deep glen. The imagination can hardly picture to itself any thing more exquisitely romantic. Here, and not on Ronayne's Island, if I sought a seclusion among the lakes of Killarney, would my abode be fixed.
Another charming inlet is that which receives the river of Dericunihy. This lies round a rock, which, from the resemblance found in it to a coffin, has the name of Coffin-point. Here is the most considerable cascade about the Upper Lake; it lies embosomed in the depths of a thick wood. The water, where it first appears, gushes from among the rocks at a great height up the mountain; then, after falling some way, it spreads out to a much wider extent, pouring in
Among a number of persons a diversity of opinions will prevail upon every subject; and among the numerous visitors to Killarney, great difference of sentiment is entertained as to which of the three lakes is to be preferred. I have no hesitation on the subject; I think the Upper Lake presents indisputably the grandest and most beautiful features of the whole circuit; but it should be visited and re-visited; one day is very insufficient to explore every part of such an extent of scenery, where every part offers something to interest, something to charm. I feel that seeing it but once, I have seen it very imperfectly. The idea of the bowl of whiskey-punch at night seemed to inspire the boatmen; they became talkative and sang several Irish songs as we rowed about. One was in praise of the lakes of Killarney; the man who sang it had a good voice, and gave it with an enthusiasm inspired by the subject, which rendered it very interesting. Another sang an old legend of some saint with great energy and action, rather, however, laughable than otherwise.
In returning home we stopped at the island of Innisfallen, the largest in the
Lower Lake. It is a beautiful spot, a mile in circuit, covered with meadow-ground
and trees; a gravel walk runs all round it. Here were the largest hollies
I ever saw, with trunks really like forest-trees: vegetation does seem extremely
luxuriant in these parts; the pasture here is esteemed remarkably fine for cattle.
On the island are some remains of an abbey, one of the most ancient in
Ireland; they are at the north-eastern end of the island, embosomed in trees,
which give them a very picturesque appearance. The original foundation of
this abbey appears to date as far back as the sixth century; and from the rudeness
of these remains, destitute of sculptured ornaments, of lofty arches, of rich
windows, they may fairly be supposed to be of the primaeval building. In
cabins formed among the ruins live the present inhabitants of the island; and
in a garden behind their humble habitations are trees which are shown as coeval
with the first establishment of the abbey: a license is, however, allowed to people
to believe this, or not, as they please. An old man,
The sad historian of the pensive plain,’’
Oliver Goldsmith, The deserted Village
Near these ruins is a small chapel or oratory, covered with ivy, more interesting than the ruins of the abbey. The door-case is a round arch, such as is usually termed Saxon, and appearing of a date much subsequent to the rest of the building. This chapel has been converted into a room of entertainment for the numerous parties that frequent the island during the whole summer season. And since the gloom of the edifice, such as it stood originally, would ill have accorded with the jollity intended to succeed to the pious meditation of which in ages past it was the theatre, two modern bow-windows have been added, and the whole inside has been smoothly plastered and washed over: — what can be said of the taste which shows so little respect to like venerable relics of antiquity? The shores of this island are on one side steep; on the other the rocks shelve down to the water's edge, and continue the same shelving so far into the water, that no boat could land here, but for a little stone quay which has been thrown up. At this quay, which is very near the ruins, were fishermen, who had got a fire, and were broiling slices of salmon from fish just taken out of the lake, and which they offered us as we came on shore. From hence we passed over to Ross-Castle, where we landed just before dark. Thus concluded the second day of my stay at Killarney.