It takes precisely sixteen minutes to drive from Leenaun to Kylemore Abbey, and that’s just enough time to reflect on its remarkable history. It’s a good story, a remarkable story, until you arrive at the causeway separating Pollacapall Lough. Nothing can prepare you for what you are about to see etched into the Connemara landscape.
“...It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye”
Kylemore © David O’Neill
When Mitchell Henry married Margaret Vaughn in 1852 they chose Ireland for the honeymoon. It might seem a curious destination considering the post-apocalyptic social landscape in the years immediately following the Great Famine, but the couple had strong Irish connections : Margaret was from Co. Down and so too was Mitchell’s mother and paternal grandfather. He would later claim, somewhat passionately, to be wholly Irish by blood. It’s unknown if they had a particular reason to visit Connemara, but the contemplative beauty, together with the wretchedness of the landscape, would provide a foundation for the monumental decision they were about to make.
Connemara is a cultural and geographical jewel. The area is part of Galway, but it has an identity that makes it feel like an entirely different county. In the course of their tour of Connemara the newlyweds arrived at Kylemore Lodge, idyllically nestled between Pollacapall Lough and Doughruagh Mountain. What they saw across the water that day was something far more ambitious than a lodge; it was the beginning of a dream that would alter not just their lives, but the lives of all who remained on the desolate land.
Mitchell Henry was one of the richest young men in England. Despite studying medicine and becoming a noted ophthalmologist, he withdrew from his career after inheriting a vast fortune in the cotton trade. He took over the family business and entered politics on behalf of the Liberal Party. Henry had a strong sense of social justice and wished to improve the lives of ordinary people at home and in Ireland. This was especially true in the west of Ireland, where poverty drove people from the land and forced them into cities or onto the trails of mass migration. In building Kylemore, he could create employment and stimulate a unique economy on what would become a 13,000 acre estate. Most importantly, he could satisfy his profound love for Margaret by turning her dream into reality.
Work began in 1867 and took 100 men and four years to complete. His first mission was to drain the bogs, something he hoped to later achieve in areas outside the estate. He employed Irish architect, James Franklin Fuller, and engineering assistant, Ussher Roberts. Fuller would later redesign and enlarge Ashford Castle and Farmleigh House for various members of the Guinness family. Kylemore, a 40,000 square foot castle, boasts 33 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, 4 sitting rooms, a ballroom, library, billiard room, study, smoking room and servant’s quarters. Fuller cleverly angled the castle to so it would reflect on the surface of the lake and create a grand spectacle from the causeway.
Attention was soon turned to the creation of woodlands and a Victorian walled-garden. The six-acre gardens contained an acre of greenhouses centrally-heated by three boilers. This was avant-garde in an era noted for innovation, but it was entirely unique in the wide range of exotic fruits that flourished in a bog in the wilds of Connemara. The vast network of pipes used to carry the water can still be seen today.
© David O’Neill
If every house has a heart, Kylemore’s can be found above the main entrance. A guardian angel holds forth a shield bearing Margaret’s Vaughn family coat-of-arms. The angel unambiguously proclaims that this is Margaret’s house, and carved birds in the corners of the architrave represent the house as a nest for her family. That nest was soon to be filled with nine children.
The fairy-tale was not to last. On a family trip to Egypt in 1874, Margaret contracted a fever and passed away after several weeks of illness. Mitchell Henry’s heart was fractured beyond repair, but he managed to put his grief aside and attend to his family. He arranged to have Margaret embalmed and brought back to Kylemore as soon as possible (once home she was reportedly laid out in a glass coffin and placed in the hall).
Margaret was a much loved figure on the estate and people came from all over the region to pay their respects. Though Mitchell continued to champion Ireland in parliament and attend to his large family, Kylemore could never be the same without his beloved wife. In tribute he built a miniature Neo-Gothic cathedral to house her remains, though ultimately she was entombed in a nearby mausoleum. The cathedral is as enchanting as the house, with an exquisitely carved exterior and cream limestone and multi-coloured marble interior. There is a conspicuous lack of frightful gargoyles, but in true Gothic Revival fashion they were replaced by ornate angelic features, along with flowers and birds that pay homage to Margaret Henry.
Fate had not finished with the Henry family, when seventeen years later it struck another devastating blow. Whilst visiting Kylemore from her new home in America, the now happily married Geraldine Gilbert Henry took a jaunt in a small horse-drawn carriage. She was accompanied by her nanny and baby daughter. Crossing a narrow bridge over the Dawros River, the horse shied and Geraldine was thrown down into the turbulent water. Her baby and nanny survived after being pitched onto the road.
Mitchell Henry continued his political life but spent less and less time at Kylemore. The dream was broken, and with spiralling debts he sold the castle to the Duke and Duchess of Manchester. In July of that year, 1903, the royal yacht arrived at Killary Harbour and Edward V11 paid a visit to Kylemore whilst touring Connemara. Apparently no one was home. The Manchester’s tenure only lasted for as long the affable duke could squander his wife’s money. They ripped out much of the Italian and Connemara marble and converted the ballroom into a kitchen capable of catering for their many guests. The duke sold the castle in the Benedictine Nuns in 1920, after the nuns were forced to flee Ypres two years previously. Thus the castle became an abbey, and much-loved international school from 1923-2010.
Kylemore has flourished under the care of the nuns. Restoration of the house, church and gardens has taken place over the past hundred years, and the community has engaged on many innovative levels in order meet the enormous costs of maintaining the estate.
Despite tragedy in his family, Kylemore has survived to fulfil Mitchell Henry’s dream of stimulating the local economy. Like a beacon in the Irish landscape, it continues to attract people from all over the world.
In those sixteen minutes it takes to drive from Leenaun to Kylemore Abbey, all of its history is swept aside the moment you look across the lake. It floods the eyes and fills the soul and at that very moment you know you’re not looking at an abbey or castle or ducal home – you’re looking at a love story.
Final resting place of Mitchell and Margaret Henry © David O’Neill
© David O’Neill 2021