Kilrush Corn Mills, Kilrush, Co. Kilkenny
Co. Kilkenny |
Mills
Corrugated asbestos sheeting now stands in for the original roof slates, but beneath it the mill still keeps its waterwheel, tucked against the east elevation where it once turned to grind flour for a working agricultural economy.
The complex reads as a small industrial settlement in itself: two attached mills of different builds standing shoulder to shoulder, a modest owner's house set apart, and a boundary wall that has swallowed up, almost as an afterthought, the remains of a Victorian post box. Disused now, the buildings retain enough of their original fabric, stonework, timber fittings, window surrounds, to still communicate what they were built to do.
The complex dates to 1801, and it grew rather than arrived complete. The earlier of the two mills is a four-bay, four-storey block built of roughcast lime-rendered rubble stone, originally detached, with a return added to its north side. Its neighbour, raised sometime before 1840, is grander: five bays across four storeys, faced in squared limestone with dressed quoins at the corners, and fitted with a carriageway on the ground floor whose elliptical head is framed in tooled cut-limestone voussoirs, the wedge-shaped stones that make up an arch. Red brick voussoirs appear again above the window and door openings on both mills, a practical and decorative touch against the pale limestone. Records show the site still working as a corn mill as late as 1902, over a century after its first construction, evidence of a business that succeeded well enough to keep expanding and improving its buildings rather than simply maintaining them. The owner's house nearby, of three bays and two storeys, is more restrained in its ambitions, its main flourish an elliptical-headed doorway with a fanlight above the panelled door, though its windows were replaced around 1950. That same mid-century decade brought corrugated asbestos to both mill roofs, replacing whatever had covered them before, and it is this practical but unglamorous intervention, rather than any single dramatic event, that marks the last chapter before the buildings fell out of use. The cast-iron post box built into the boundary wall carries the royal cipher "VR", for Victoria Regina, dating it to the last two decades of the nineteenth century and adding a small civic footnote to what is otherwise a story of milling and family enterprise.