This lake is much embellished by an ancient castle standing on an
island within it, and even yet entire, though roofless. As a
Highland castle, it is of considerable dimensions, and the island
being scarcely larger than its foundations, it appears to rise
immediately out of the water. It would not be easy to imagine a
wilder position than this, for a den of thieves and robbers, nor one
more thoroughly romantic. It is more like the things of which we
read in the novels of the Otranto School, than a scene of real life.
If ever you should propose to rival the Author of Waverley in that
line of art, I recommend you to choose part of your scene here. As I
lay on its topmost tower, amid the universal silence, while the
bright sun exalted the perfume from the woods around, and all the
old world visions and romances seemed to flit about its grey and
solitary ruins, I, too, felt as if I would have written a chapter
that might hereafter be worthy the protection of Minerva—the Minerva
of Leadenhall Street."
MacCulloch's Letters on the Highlands of Scotland.