I have now given a general sketch of the confines of the lakes, and their
most remarkable bays. The islands are no less worthy of notice; though,
from their number, situation, and varieties, so difficult to describe,
that I despair of conveying any distinct conception of them.
The number of islands in the lower lake exceeds thirty. They are
dispersed, without order, along the level shores to the East and North;
for to the South and West, there is one unbroken sheet of water. A few
of them lie unconnected, but the greater number is distributed into
two irregular clusters, or archipels, on the opposite sides of Ross,
X, Y. This island is the largest in the lake: it lies to the East of
Reen Point, about a mile from the village of Killarney. A very narrow
gut, scarcely navigable for boats, separates it from the shore; and
over this there is a bridge thrown, for the conveniency of the castle.
The castle stands on the land side on the island, and was formerly a
royal residence; being the seat of the Lords of the Lake, who assumed
the title of Kings. The family of O’Donahue was the last that bore this
title: its present representative enjoys a degree of respect from the
country-people in right of his ancestors, but their power has been long
extinct, and their property is now passed into other hands. The great
O’Donahue, the hero of this ancient race, still survives in the praises
of his countrymen; who set off his virtues with all the colourings of
enthusiasm. They represent him like the Demi-gods of old, a contemner of
danger, a sworn foe to oppression, a passionate admirer of whatever is
great and honourable. The severity of his warlike virtues was tempered,
say they, by a generous hospitality, which embraced a Friend in every
Stranger: The rigour of the Legislator was blended and lost in the
endearing condescension of the Friend; the Prince was the Father of his
country. His court was the seat of joy and festivity: worth took its
place at the board by inherent birthright, grey hairs received their
reverence, distressed innocence had a peculiar plea of admission, for
humanity was paramount, and suspicious policy absolutely unknown. He
was wise too, and the Gods sped his councils, for his subjects were
happy. Fruitful seasons crowned the year with plenty, and undisturbed
tranquillity led the way to enjoyment. ’Twas the reign of Pan in Arcadia:
nor were the shepherds ungrateful; for every valley resounded with his
praises: nor was their patron unpropitious; for death, that extinguished
his earthly lamp, seemed to rekindle his love. And still he reigns
to bless them; and to his unseen protection do they hold themselves
indebted, for every gift of fortune. Often as the hind returns to his
cottage, by the favour of the moon’s pale light, are his eyes blessed
by the figure of the good old King amidst a train of his attendants;
his silver locks floating in the breeze, his limbs invested with a
robe of regal dignity, and superbly mounted, like the twin brothers of
Helena, upon a milk-white courser. Such a vision is considered as the
happiest omen of good; it is reported with ecstasy, and listened to with
transport: there are no unbelievers; even to hesitate were heresy: and
why should we wonder? O’Donahue is the Hercules and Quirinus of this
retired people, their _San Januario_, their _Julium Sidus_. The ancient
tribute of the kings of Munster to this prince, was ten dun horses, ten
coats of mail, and ten ships[4]: This gives us the idea of a powerful
chieftain, possessed of a navy, in these days, truly formidable. The
castle, which has a non-resident governor, now serves as a barrack for
infantry. From the top of it there is a good view of the island, which
appears low and swampy, and rather narrow for its length. It is every
where covered with trees, unless where it has been industriously cleared;
which is the case around the castle, and from thence to the opposite
shores. The winding Peninsula towards Innisfallen is particularly
pleasant: The bays and creeks are much like those at Mucrus, but the
happy situation of the surrounding islands gives them many additional
beauties.
Innisfallen lies at a small distance to the Westward. It is not so
extensive as Ross, but much more beautiful. Its shape is triangular, and
its sides, from promontory to promontory, are hollowed into bays. The
soil is exceedingly rich, and the verdure perpetual. The cattle which
feed upon it testify to its fertility. Its surface is naturally molded
into a variety of sweeps and banks, which are cleared of the underwood,
and shaded by well-grown trees. Near the north-east promontory are the
ruins of an abbey, and what the boatmen call a banqueting-house. The
abbey is a very paltry building, and was probably rather an occasional
retreat to the good Fathers at Mucrus, than the seat of a distinct
Brotherhood. Such retreats, with all reverence be it spoken, are no less
agreeable to the Anchorite, than Caprea was of old to the Roman Emperor.
Whether it is, that the extremes of vice, and the rigours of virtue,
equally decline observation; or that affected sanctity, and avowed
sensuality, though looking different ways, aim at the same objects; or
that a suspension, and perversion, of the human powers, produce similar
effects; I leave to the curious to determine. Certainly here might Virgil
find the realities of his beautiful descriptions,
——_Hic lætis otia fundis,_
_Speluncæ, vivique lacus; hic frigida Tempe,_
_Mugitusque boum._—
and, looking upon the distant mountains, he might still subjoin,
_Non absunt illic, saltus, ac lustra ferarum._
The Hermit I have before mentioned, frequently shut himself up here;
subsisting, as he made the country-people believe, upon rats and other
vermin: but they were deceived as usual; for the bounty of strangers, who
almost daily touched on his island, supplied him with food better suited
to his palate, and his private resources made up their deficiencies.
The low island to the Westward is inferior to Innisfallen in every thing
but extent. It is called Brown Island, from its colour, and Rabbit
Island, from its being stored with those animals. There are no trees upon
it, and its only covering is fern: It seems to be placed here as a foil
to the others.
The remaining islands of the western cluster, are of a less size, and
more contiguous to the shore, than those I have spoken of. Lamb’s Island
is the largest of them: It is finely wooded, and is indeed Innisfallen
in miniature. Hern Island lies South East of Lamb’s: it is small, but
wooded. O’Donahue’s Prison, and Mouse Island, complete the cluster; and,
tho’ naked rocks, are not destitute of beauties: they derive their names,
the one, from its resemblance in some views to a house; the other, from
its diminutive size.
The islands which compose the eastern cluster, Y, though smaller, are
more numerous. Garvillan, or Rough Island, at the east point of Ross;
and Alexander’s, nearer the shore; are very little raised from the
surface of the water. O’Donahue’s Table is a naked cragg, by gradual
dilapidation worn into cavities. The other islands rise boldly to a
point, and are counter parts of the vegetating heights at Mucrus. They
are in general finely fringed with evergreens, which cover their angles
and unevennesses; and are peopled by distinct tribes of birds, that feed
on land in the day, and return at the dusk of evening: The jackdaw,
pigeon, hern, eagle, and osprey, have all their separate habitations.
Besides these which lie in irregular groupes, there are several single
islets scattered along the shores of Mucrus. Friars Island is contiguous
to the abbey; Oak Island more distant; and another, which produces
junipers, still farther to the South. Cannon Island, a white rock off
Camillan, is remarkably well situated for shewing the power of the
echoes. A gun mounted here, and pointed against Glená, must produce a
striking effect; for Turk, the Eagle’s nest, and the several mountains on
the opposite sides of the river, would serve as so many conveyances to
transmit the undulations to the upper lake, and multiply the repetitions.
Brickeen, and Dinish, which lie in the mouth of Turk Lake, have been
already described: the only other island in this lake is Illanan-Deoul,
the Devil’s Island: it is lofty, steep, but not wooded.
The upper lake contains eight islands, which are all worthy of notice.
The Oak Islands, or Rossburkree, separated only in winter, are the most
considerable; and lie in the south-east part of the lake, opposite the
mouth of the river. They are richly covered with timber, but particularly
the eastern, which must yield up its oaks at the same time with the
adjoining Glynn: they are rugged, and uneven, though no where hilly, and
stretch away in length.
Arbutus Island lies over-against Rossburkree, half encompassed by a shady
bay. Its shape is pyramidical, and its rocky sides are covered with
strawberry-trees. In the latter end of October, when I first visited
Killarney, they were in high beauty: many of their bells and blossoms
still remaining, the fruit on some just forming, and on others nearly
ripe. The same bough often exhibited all these varieties. The ordinary
height of the tree is ten, or twelve feet; but I have seen some of a
happier growth which rose to eighteen, or twenty. The blossom is shaped
like a goblet, and the fruit nearly spherical: it is at first of a pale
yellow, which deepens as it advances to ripeness, and gradually gives
place to a rich scarlet. It equals the largest garden strawberry in size,
but must be eaten with more caution, for those who are unaccustomed to
it, and indulge too freely, are seized with an oppression little less
than lethargic: This I take upon the credit of the country-people, who
use it themselves without reserve, generally accompanying it with a
hearty draught of water, to qualify its juices. The elder Pliny calls
this fruit Unido, because no more than one berry can be eaten at a time
with safety: but Virgil makes it the common food of the first inhabitants
of the earth, following Lucretius, who ranks it with the acorn itself,
and tells us that in the earlier ages it grew to an extraordinary size,
and was found in greater abundance.
_Glandiferas inter curabant corpora quercus_
_Plerumque; et quæ nunc, hiberno tempore, cernis_
_Arbuta, pœniceo, fieri matura, colore,_
_Plurima, tum tellus, etiam majora, ferebat._
LUCRET. Lib. V.
The arbutus was no less esteemed among the ancients for its pleasant
shade, than its fruit; as may be discovered from the poets, and
particularly from Horace, the admirer, and best judge, of whatever is
elegant in retirement.
The remaining islands to the number of five, lie together in a cluster,
Z, at the west end of the lake, about half a mile from the shore. They
are beautiful in themselves, and are so grouped as to form a delightful
assemblage: They are all lofty, all wooded; and the bold broken craggs,
and angles, in many places overhanging the lake, seem to forbid the
approach of human footsteps, and consecrate them to their native ospreys
and eagles. But man has notwithstanding intruded; for in the central
one, which is only accessible in one spot, there is a cottage raised
under shelter of the rocks, and trees, which is occupied every season.
The cottage is composed of timber, interwoven with boughs; and is so
matted, and covered in, with leaves, and sedge, as to form a comfortable
habitation. The gentleman to whom it belongs, visits it twice a year,
for the benefit of shooting and fishing: he sometimes continues for two
entire months, as much secluded from the world as an Indian in Ontario,
or Mishigan: He is a man of independent fortune, and, as I have been
told, a batchelor.
In traversing his little island, I observed it was carpeted over with a
thick covering of decayed leaves, and boughs. I could easily discover
the strata of the several past years, by the different degrees of
putrefaction; till near the bottom, where the dissolution was more
complete, they were cemented into one uniform mass, condensed by the
pressure above, and so swoln by the rains and moisture, as not to be at
all distinguishable. As the decay was more perfect, the colours declined
more perceptibly from the original lighter tints, ending, in the bottom,
in as perfect a black, as I ever saw in any of our bogs. The similitude
of the contexture, as well as the colour, convinced me, that the black
bogs with which Ireland abounds, have been formed by the same process:
a process which is probably forwarded, by the continual moisture, and
rains, in a climate, neither burnt up by scorching heats, nor congealed
by the rigours of cold.
This inhabited islet is the center of the groupe; to the South-west of it
lie Stag, and Hind; and M’Carthy’s, and the Eagles Rock, to the North and
North-west.