The place, but lately purchased by the Duke of M., was built by Mr. Henry at an expense, on the estate, of a million sterling. Reverses forced its sale, and it was bought by its present owner. There is nothing ancient, the house having but some fifty years to its credit, but it is capable of being, and, in the present owner's hands, will be made a charming dwelling-place, and certainly, swept by the winds of the North Atlantic, it must be at all seasons very healthy. Filled with a large company or with a few congenial people it should be an enjoyable spot.
Its gardens are very extensive and one passes through endless conservatories full of flowers and fruits. As we round a corner close to the stable, we encounter the quaint figure of a woman with straggling grey locks, tumbling down over a pallid face. In a dress of rags and barefooted, she is dancing a crazy jig all by herself. There are weird gleams in her eyes as they rove over the sombre mountains, seeking kindred spirits, I fancy, as she croons in a monotone the notes of some quaint melody which still drifts across her brain. She shows as she catches sight of our party that she is no respecter of persons as she grabs the Duke by the coat and won't let go, imploring him to "lock up the castle and I'll be round a Monday." When he implores her to put off her coming for a day or so she declines and sticks to "Monday." I cannot but doubt in some degree her insanity, at least it has not destroyed her womanly vanity, for when I tell her I want to take her picture, she at once attempts to smooth her hair and dress, and striking what she thinks will be a becoming pose, tells me to "go ahead," and after the snap remarks, "You had better take another for fear that is a failure."
Yesterday, having gone to the kitchen of the castle for her "bit of meat," she found a new cook, who, not knowing about her, ordered her out, whereupon she seized a knife from the table and there ensued a handicap, go as you please, all over the place, with the cook in the lead and Biddy a close second. After that she got her meat in peace.
As we return from an inspection of the grounds she is being conducted off the terrace by the butler. But Biddy has a mind of her own and no one save this butler could get her away, if it suited her to remain, which it generally does. We are told she is deeply in love with him and that there is a photo extant with Biddy on her knees, clasping his legs and imploring him to marry her. Now the butler is a most stately personage; he has the cast of countenance of the great Louis of France, the same beak-like nose and downward sweep of the face lines running from it, the same haughty pose of the head, in fact, deck him in a high wig, court suit, and ruffles, and great red heels and you have Louis le Grand; take them away and you have the butler, the object of Biddy's devotion, to whom it makes no difference whether he be king or butler. But Biddy in her rags is after all the most picturesque thing about Kylemore; her eyes are bright if she is crazy—but where in all the world will you find brighter eyes than amongst the beggars of Ireland, and they seem equally pleased whether one gives or not (Biddy did not beg, neither did she hesitate to take what we gave her). Like all beggars, many of them are rogues, but, ah, risk that, for you may by your half crown relieve for the time real heart-breaking misery, and such poverty as you cannot conceive of. Go to Achill if you would be convinced of that.
Yesterday while watching a train pass at Recess a boy approached and just looked at me, but with a look of such hungry suffering that a shilling was promptly forthcoming. Then I questioned him, and found that he had been ill and could at best make but a sixpence a day, that his brother drove the car for the hotel, getting as wages only the uncertain tips of the visitors, which, never many, in this remote spot are indeed few and far between in this bad season. His father had worked in the neighbouring marble quarries, but pestered and beset by a law-suit over his little hovel had, as the boy expressed it, "gone dotty," and could work no more. The mother did what she could and a sister was a cripple. So that all they had to live upon was what he and his brother could earn.
Just as he finished a ducal train rolled by. His Grace was transporting his family and effects from one great castle to another. Surely the contrasts in life are heartrending, yet I doubt not that this Duke will and does do all he can to relieve the sufferings of the poor on his estates—sufferings intensified and made all the more horrible by the unprincipled leaders of the leagues in this land, and masters of strikes in ours and others.
But to return to Kylemore, the interior of the castle at present is in a state of transition, so that it is impossible to describe it. Built against the side of the mountain, some of its staircases are literally laid on the solid rock. Many of the rooms are spacious and stately and in the hands of the present owners will doubtless be made very handsome.