Luggellaw, Wicklow.

Artist(s) : Thomas Creswick (Draughtsman), Samuel Fisher (Engraver)

View of Luggala, or Fancy Mountain, in Co. Wicklow, and of Lough Tay. Rocks and vegetation border the lake. On a large rock overlooking the water are two men and a dog. One is seated with his back to the viewer, looking towards the lake and the backdrop of mountains; he is holding a large sheet of paper, possibly a map or sketch book. The other man, standing beside the first figure, is wearing a hat, and a rifle is placed against a rock nearby. Behind them lies the still surface of the lake, surrounded by steep mountains; the brow of one is wreathed in mist. On a lower slope is the faint outline of a house. Two sailing boats are visible in the distance.

Inscribed in Image

  • Signature – T. Creswick. / S. Fisher. / Printed by Alfred Adlard.
  • Caption outside of boundaries of image – Lugellaw, Wicklow.

Image Details

Genre Landscape
Technique Etchings
Subject(s) Nature
Geographical Location
  • Luggala or Fancy Mountain - Mountain
  • Wicklow - County
  • Leinster - Province
Keywords(s) Artists, Boats, Cliffs, Dogs, Firearms, Fishing, Houses, Hunting, Lakes & ponds, Mansions, Mountains, People, Rock formations
Colour Monochrome
Dimensions 9.7 cm x 12 cm
Published / created 1837

Bibliographical Details

Travel Account Ireland Picturesque and Romantic
Print or manuscript Print
Location of image in copy opp. p. 60
Source copy National Library of Ireland Ir 9141 r 15
Alternative source

This is a link to a digital copy hosted by an external website.
Rights Courtesy of the National Library of Ireland

Related text from travel account

On the south, or south-west, there lay before me, far down the slope of the mountain, a vale without a single feature of interest, if it was not a general wildness and loneliness, corresponding with the character of the desert heath between. This I knew by the description in the Guide Book* [Footnote: *Guide to the County Wicklow. An extremely well-written little volume, and very correct, excepting a leetle exaggeration touching beauty, grandeur, sublimity, &c.] to be Luggelaw, and I was therefore prepared for an agreeable surprise; yet, on arriving suddenly at the spot whence a view is obtained of Lough Tay, [p. 60] slumbering at the bottom, in the embrace of her stern and lofty hills, I was but little the better for having been prepared.

This is truly a scene of enchantment; for the suddenness with which a lovely lake, as smooth and bright as molten silver, and fringed with luxuriant foliage, is thrown before the eye in the midst of wild and dreary hills of heath and granite, appears absolutely preternatural. A wonderfully perfect idea of the spot is conveyed in the engraving. The lake fills upwards of seventy acres of the vale; and beyond this are lawns and plantations, with a white house half visible among the trees. It is not the abode of St. Kevin; for, although it was here he intended to build his Seven Churches, the persecution of the love-lorn Kathleen drove him — unhappily for her! — to the Valley of the Two Lakes. It is the property of Mr. Latouche, the banker, of Dublin.

On the shores of Lough Tay, however, I fell into a mistake quite as absurd as that of confounding St. Kevin and Mr. Latouche. I was standing on a projecting rock, in the very wildest niche of the lake, with the bright water spread before me, and a natural grove of larch, birch, and other northern trees behind, affording peeps through the branches of the heather mountain by which I had descended. On the opposite shore was a precipice of granite, broken into a thousand fantastic forms; and the beautiful expanse of water extended to the left till it was lost [image: Luggelaw, Wicklow] [p. 61] in the indentations of the valley. The hour was sunset; and it may be that the indistinctness of the objects may have added to the illusion — but I traced in the scene before me the well-known description, line for line, of that now classic lake, in "mine own romantic land." Nay, I was myself the adventurous huntsman, who climbed,

"With footing nice,
A far projecting precipice.
The broom's tough roots his ladder made,
The hazel saplings lent their aid;
And thus an airy point is won,
When, gleaming with the setting sun,
One burnished sheet of living gold,
Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,
In all her length far winding lay,
With promontory, creek, and bay,
* * * * * *
And mountains that, like giants, stand
To sentinel enchanted land.
High on the south, huge Ben-venue
Down in the lake in masses threw
Crags, knolls, and mounds; confus'dly hurled;
The fragments of an earlier world!
A wildering forest feathered o'er
His ruined sides and summits hoar.
While on the north, through middle air,
Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare."

These lines I repeated aloud; and mark the result: —

"When, lo! forth starting at the sound,
From underneath an aged oak,
That slanted from the islet rock,
[p. 62] A damsel guider of its way,
A little skiff shot to the bay,
That round the promontory steep
Led its deep line in graceful sweep,
Eddying, in almost viewless wave,
The weeping willow-twig to lave,
And kiss, with whispering sound, and slow,
The beach of pebbles, bright as snow.
The boat had touched this silver strand
Just as the hunter left his stand,
And stood concealed amid the brake,
To view this Lady of the Lake!"

Now, taking all things into consideration — the time, the hour, the poetical associations — I do maintain, that I was guilty of no puppyism in pulling off my hat to this "fay in fairy land;" and exclaiming, in a voice of earnest enthusiasm: — "Is it possible that I behold Ellen Douglas ?"

"No, Sir ;" replied the damsel, with a start of surprise — "My name is Jenkinson."
I scrambled from my promontory as speedily as possible; and, passing a party of ladies and gentlemen, some of whom had English voices, took my way along the dusky hills towards Roundwood. [pp. 59-62]

Luggellaw, Wicklow.