[Illustration: LOUGH BRAY.]
If the citizens of our capital have to acknowledge, and perhaps lament,
that they are unable to compete with some other cities of the empire
in the extent of their commerce, the number of their manufactories,
the wealth of their resident aristocracy, or, in short, any of the
various results which a long and uninterrupted course of artificial
prosperity is certain to bestow, they may still console themselves
with the reflection, that in the singularly varied beauties of scenery
with which their city is surrounded they possess riches of greater
value, and enjoyments of a higher nature, of which they cannot be
deprived by any circumstance, and in which no other city can ever hope
to rival them. And although to the mere grovelling pursuer of gain,
who is incapable of a single elevated or ennobling feeling, such a
consideration may seem a matter of trivial importance, to those of
wiser, better, and more happily constituted minds, it will always be
a source of self-gratulation, as affording pleasures easily procured,
and which they would not exchange for any of a grosser kind. It is,
indeed, beyond a question, that there is no city in the British empire
exhibiting around it such a variety of picturesque beauties as our own
dear Dublin. We have the villa-studded, pastoral plain--the spacious
bay, with all its variety of coast, from the sandy beach to the bluff
sea-promontory--the richly-wooded valley with its limpid river--the
lonely mountain glen with its cataracts and tiny trout-streams--the
purple heath and the solitary tarn, or pool--the rural village and
the gay watering-place; while in addition to all these, the interest
imparted to natural scenery, by remains of ancient times, is every
where present. In short, there is no class of scenery which the poet,
the painter, the geologist, the botanist, or the mere man of pleasure,
could desire, that may not be reached in a drive of an hour or two
from any part of our city. Nature has showered on us, with a generous
hand, her various riches--the riches derived from her and our Creator.
It must, however, be confessed that, as yet, we have not learned
sufficiently to appreciate these gifts, and, consequently, do not
sufficiently enjoy them. "The world is too much with us"--and there
are many scenes of striking interest within our reach, which are more
frequently seen by the stranger visitant than by ourselves. Of these,
one of the most remarkable is the mountain lake called Lough Bray, of
which we give a sketch in our present number. How many thousands are
there of the citizens of Dublin who have never seen, perhaps never
heard of, this little mountain pool; and yet it is one of the most
perfect examples of scenery of its kind in Ireland--one of those spots
in which nature appears in her most stern and rugged aspect; solitary,
gloomy, and unfit for the companionship of man. Still it is not wholly
a desert. The eagles which build in its cliffs have seen a man of a
kindred lofty spirit--an eagle among men--build himself a nest amongst
these solitudes; and they have been often startled from their eyry by
the sounds of aristocratic joy and merriment, when the shores of the
dark lake have been enlivened by the presence of the most distinguished
in beauty and rank in Ireland.
It is perhaps of all situations a spot in which we should least expect
to find a gentleman's villa; yet this innovation is not materially
injurious to the prevailing sentiment of the scene. The house is in
the Old English style of architecture, highly picturesque, and in all
respects worthy of the refined taste of the late Mr William Morrison,
the distinguished architect by whom it was erected, and whose early
death was an event which may justly be regarded in the light of a
national loss. It was erected for Sir Philip Crampton, at the expense
of his Grace the Duke of Northumberland, who, while Viceroy of Ireland,
had spent some happy days with Sir Philip in this romantic spot, in a
cottage of humbler pretensions, which had occupied its site, and was
accidentally burned. The gift was one equally worthy of the illustrious
donor, and the talented and estimable receiver; and there are few if
any of our readers who will not join us in the wish that he may long
live to enjoy it.
Lough Bray is situated near the head of the beautiful vale called
Glen Cree, in the county of Wicklow, into which it sends a stream,
which, subsequently uniting with the Glenisloreane river, is called
the Dargle and Bray river, and falls into the sea to the north of Bray
Head. Though the name is generally used in the singular number, Lough
Bray properly consists of two lakes, called Upper and Lower; but the
lower is the principal one, both in point of beauty and grandeur of
scenery, as well as in extent of surface, its area occupying a space of
thirty-seven acres. It is nearly surrounded by mountain precipices, in
which eagles are wont to build, and has very much the character of the
crater of an extinct volcano.
Lough Bray is most easily visited from Dublin by the Military Road, by
which route the distance is little more than ten Irish miles. P.