Background and Location
The story of The Parnell Dublin, at 72–74 Parnell Street, Dublin 1, is inseparable from the story of Dublin itself. Few licensed premises in the city can claim such a remarkable combination of longevity, architectural distinction, political significance and sheer proximity to some of the defining events and personalities of Irish history.
The premises occupies a particularly historic position in the northern city centre. The area was once among the most fashionable parts of Georgian Dublin, when the street now known as Parnell Street formed part of an elegant neighbourhood associated with the city's prosperous and influential classes. The square nearby was then known as Rutland Square, and the surrounding streets attracted some of the finest residences in Georgian Dublin.
The real clue to the historical importance of the area to the British Empire, however, lies in the name the street once carried. Parnell Street was formerly Great Britain Street, a name that spoke eloquently of the political world into which the district had developed. Ireland was then an integral part of the United Kingdom, and Dublin's commercial and social life was deeply connected to the institutions of British rule.
Over the course of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, however, that political landscape would change beyond recognition. The street would eventually be renamed after Charles Stewart Parnell, leader of Ireland's Home Rule Party, and to many, Ireland's "uncrowned king."
First Licence — 1823
There has been a convivial drinks trade on this site since 1823, when an aspiring Dublin publican named James Byrne sold his family pub at 18 Camden Street and moved to what was then numbered 65 Great Britain Street.
Byrne was taking a calculated commercial gamble. The location was exceptionally promising. The nearby Rotunda Hospital, then already a major institution in Dublin life, generated a constant flow of footfall to nearby businesses. Around it had developed an extraordinary concentration of entertainment and commercial activity, including a music hall, tea rooms and bowling green. For an ambitious publican, this was precisely the kind of location that could generate a substantial daily trade.
Byrne's decision proved sound. He established himself in a part of the city where people were constantly arriving, departing and looking for somewhere to meet and socialise. The premises became part of the everyday commercial life of the district. It was the beginning of a licensed history that would eventually stretch beyond two centuries.
Yet the nineteenth-century drinks trade was a fiercely competitive business, and Byrne soon discovered that having a good location was only the beginning.
Competition Tough
James Byrne rapidly improved the business, eventually securing an annual rateable valuation of 36 guineas. But the licensed trade in this area was highly competitive. One of his greatest difficulties came not from conventional public houses but from the Spirit Grocers.
Spirit Grocers were legally permitted to sell spirits for consumption elsewhere—that is, on an off-sales basis. Yet many circumvented the regulations by allowing customers to go behind wooden screens and consume the alcohol on the premises. In effect, they were competing directly with licensed public houses while operating under a different form of licence. For a publican such as James Byrne, this represented a serious challenge.
Yet he survived, helped by the extraordinary amount of business generated by the surrounding neighbourhood. One particularly important source was the medical community associated with the Rotunda. Byrne's nearest neighbour was Terence Travers Burke, a surgeon and midwifery practitioner. Burke's work brought him into regular contact with the Rotunda and the surrounding medical world, and his presence provided a steady flow of business through James Byrne's door.
Thus, from its earliest years, the premises developed a characteristic that would remain important throughout its history: its success was closely linked to the life of the surrounding institutions. The Rotunda was not simply a neighbouring building. It was one of the great engines of local activity.
Anthony Nolan Arrives in Great Britain Street
James Byrne's tenure came to an end in 1841, when the premises was acquired by another energetic Dublin publican, Anthony Nolan. Nolan was a workaholic in the fullest sense of the word. When he was not behind the pumps greeting customers, he could be found downstairs in the cellar, actively involved in the practical details of running his business. He bottled ales and stouts himself, carefully prepared or "fined" wines for the more affluent clientele associated with the Rotunda, and took care to minimise waste at the spirit pump between cask and tap room.
This was a period when a successful publican was far more than a person who simply sold drinks. He was a purchaser, cellar manager, accountant, host, craftsman and businessman all rolled into one. But Nolan's greatest commercial asset was his competitiveness. During these years, the price of whiskey had fallen dramatically—from around 13 shillings a gallon to 7 shillings—following reductions in excise duties and a decline in the price of corn. For a publican, falling prices created an opportunity to increase sales and attract customers. Anthony Nolan understood this perfectly.
The premises were now benefiting from the growing popularity of affordable spirits while continuing to draw trade from the extraordinary concentration of medical, commercial and entertainment activity surrounding Great Britain Street. But Nolan's greatest adversary was not another publican. It was an entirely different social force. Around this time the street numbering changed on Great Britain Street and this house became no. 74.
The Temperance Movement
During Nolan's years behind the pumps, the Irish licensed trade faced an opponent whose influence would reach into almost every community in the country: the temperance movement. At its forefront stood the charismatic Capuchin friar Father Theobald Mathew, whose mission was to persuade Ireland to abandon alcohol and embrace sobriety. Father Mathew's movement achieved an extraordinary level of popular support. It is stated that up to 3 million Irish people took the temperance pledge, and the movement became one of the most significant social campaigns of nineteenth-century Ireland. It presented publicans with a formidable challenge.
The very activity on which their livelihoods depended was being portrayed as a source of social misery and moral decline. Yet there was another side to Irish drinking culture. For many people, the public house was not simply a place to consume alcohol. It was a place to meet friends, conduct business, exchange news and participate in the social life of the community. The history of The Parnell Dublin sits squarely within this tension. The publican was trying to sell conviviality. The temperance campaigner was trying to eliminate the drink that made that conviviality possible. The campaign achieved enormous temporary success, but many of those who took the pledge eventually returned to drinking. The Irish social tradition of meeting for a drink proved remarkably resilient. And so did this public house on Great Britain Street.
William Cade Behind the Pumps — 1856
The tradition of this house attracting energetic, committed and adventurous publicans continued in 1856, when William Cade arrived. Cade inherited a business facing strong local competition. His nearest rival was Thomas Nixon, who operated the Rotunda Tavern (Conway's) at No. 70. The two establishments were effectively competing for the same exceptionally busy local trade.
Cade's arrival coincided with a period of significant expansion in Dublin's commercial and transport life. The neighbourhood was becoming increasingly busy, and the licensed premises on Great Britain Street were perfectly positioned to benefit. William Cade would remain at the helm here for sixteen years.
Upturn in Trade and Travel
During William Cade's tenure, business expanded considerably. The Rotunda complex continued to be one of the principal sources of local trade, but it was no longer the only attraction. The nearby Dublin Fruit and Vegetable Markets were booming. The great commercial activity around Moore Street brought traders, shoppers and market workers into the area every day. The streets were alive with movement, and a well-positioned public house could benefit enormously from this constant flow of people.
At the same time, Dublin had entered the age of tourism. Travel was becoming an established part of Victorian life, and the city was increasingly welcoming visitors from Ireland and abroad. Nearby Nelson's Pillar, on Sackville Street, became Dublin's great tourist landmark and one of the city's most recognisable attractions. The pillar drew a constant stream of visitors into the area. William Cade's homely hostelry of conviviality was ideally positioned to benefit from all of this activity.
Changing of the Guard
After sixteen years at the helm, William Cade said farewell to his clientele in 1872 and put the premises up for sale. The Dublin licensed trade had changed substantially during his tenure. The traditional public house was increasingly being challenged by a new generation of sophisticated Victorian pubs, and the old building on Great Britain Street was beginning to look increasingly outdated.
During the next six years the premises changed hands twice, passing through the ownerships of Mark Crowley and Mark Mansfield. But the problem remained. The Dublin drinking public was increasingly attracted to the newer Victorian establishments. These were brighter, more elaborate and more fashionable. The old house on Great Britain Street needed something far more substantial than a coat of paint. It needed major heart surgery.
And then came the man who would change everything.
James G. Mooney
Few names stand more prominently in the annals of Dublin's licensed trade than James G. Mooney. Mooney was not simply a successful publican. He was an innovator who revolutionised the Irish drinks industry and built the foundations of the Mooney pub empire.
He was deeply conscious of the renaissance taking place in the British licensed trade. Across Britain, public houses were becoming increasingly elaborate, and the Victorian Gin Palace had transformed drinking into an experience of architecture, luxury and social display. Mooney wanted to bring this revolution to Ireland. And more importantly, he wanted to improve upon it.
In 1878, he purchased this premises on Great Britain Street. Then he did something that demonstrated the scale of his ambition. He closed the pub. He did not attempt a modest refurbishment. He decided that the old building had reached the end of its commercial life. It was to be demolished and replaced.
The Phoenix Rises from the Ashes
In 1879, the old premises was demolished and by the summer of 1880 a magnificent new Victorian building emerged in its place. The new establishment bore James G. Mooney's name above the door. The building was designed by architect Frederick Morley, and its elaborate frontage remains one of the most distinctive Victorian commercial façades in Dublin. The surviving building is recorded as dating from 1879, with an elaborate pub shopfront featuring materials including polished pink granite, Portland stone and limestone, together with Corinthian detailing.
Mooney was not content simply to create another Victorian pub. He wanted something spectacular.
The upper floors were incorporated into the enterprise, and the premises developed into a grand Victorian Gin Palace, intended to attract a clientele who might previously have regarded the public house as somewhere they did not belong.
The interior was designed for maximum effect. Smoked mirrors, opaque glass divisions, marble-topped counters, mosaic-tiled floors and mahogany combined to create an atmosphere of extraordinary luxury. The pub was no longer merely a place to buy a drink. It was a social and cultural experience.
Mooney's most innovative feature was perhaps the Smoking Room upstairs. Affluent customers could be shown upstairs for an evening of Brandy and cigars, having been provided with a smoking jacket at the front door. The concept was remarkably sophisticated. The customer was not simply served. He was hosted. The smoking room offered privacy, comfort and exclusivity. It transformed the pub into a social destination where business could be discussed, friendships cultivated and an evening enjoyed in surroundings resembling those of a fashionable club. James G. Mooney had understood something fundamental about hospitality: if you changed the environment, you could change the customer.
During these years some of the most distinguished faces in Irish social, economic and political life availed of the unique facilities of the Victorian Gin Palace. Charles Stewart Parnell frequently attended as part of the Rotunda (now the Ambassador) theatre location in which he made first and last public appearances. Though he favoured both the Bailey and Morrison's Hotel for social recreation, Parnell was also known to frequent this premises on a number of occasions.
The Success of the Victorian Gin Palace
The success was immediate. The annual rateable valuation rose dramatically from 36 guineas to 120 guineas—a remarkable increase that demonstrated just how successfully James G. Mooney had transformed the commercial fortunes of this oasis of longevity.
But the significance of the Gin Palace went far beyond its financial success. The great pub entrepreneur had achieved a lifelong ambition: attracting the reluctant Victorian middle and affluent classes into public houses. Before the era of the Victorian Gin Palace, many respectable and relatively affluent Victorians were determined not to frequent public houses. Yet this did not mean that they abstained from alcohol. Indeed, domestic drinking remained an important feature of their lives as alcohol consumption figures indicate the Victorians drank more per capita than subsequent Irish generations.
James G. Mooney's solution was brilliant. He made the public house respectable. Drinking could now be presented as civilised leisure. The wily James Mooney had effectively identified an untapped market. The Irish pub had now become a place of hospitality, sociability and luxury. This premises became the flagship of Mooney's growing pub empire.
James G. Mooney Passes Away — 1891
James G. Mooney died in 1891, having established a commercial legacy that would outlive him by many decades. There was a remarkable coincidence in the timing. The same year saw the death of Charles Stewart Parnell, Ireland's great nationalist leader, who died on 6 October 1891. Parnell had become known to his supporters as Ireland's "uncrowned king." His political career had transformed Irish nationalism and brought the question of Home Rule to the centre of British political life.
While one great Dublin figure died as an entrepreneur and publican, the other died as a political leader whose name would soon become permanently attached to the street and this very house. Yet there was no great interruption to the business. The Mooney organisation was sufficiently established to survive its founder, and his son Gerald Mooney became Chairman and Managing Director of J. G. Mooney & Co. Everything continued as before and within twenty years, the premises would acquire another name destined to last for more than a century.
The Parnell Mooney Name Above the Door — 1911
The transformation came in 1911. On the 1st October 1911, the imposing Parnell Monument was unveiled on Sackville Street, only a few metres from the premises. The following day, October 2nd, Dublin Corporation voted to rename Great Britain Street as Parnell Street.
The political symbolism was extraordinary. A street whose name had once commemorated Great Britain was now to carry the name of the man who had become the great symbol of Irish nationalism. The response from J. G. Mooney & Co. was swift. Within days, the company moved to rename the pub The Parnell Mooney. It was an inspired choice. The two names were united above the door. And there they remained for more than a century.
The relationship between the pub and the monument was particularly striking. Parnell's imposing figure stood almost within arm's reach of the premises, while the street below carried his name. History and culture rhymed.
And then, only five years later, the premises would witness another extraordinary chapter of Irish history.
The Easter Rising — 1916
What appeared to be another successful trading day for The Parnell Mooney was abruptly and violently transformed on Easter Monday, April 24th 1916, when the Easter Rising erupted.
The Parnell Mooney stood almost at the centre of the conflict. To the south lay Sackville Street and the General Post Office, headquarters of the insurgents. Behind and around the pub were Moore Street and the surrounding streets that would become crucial during the final stages of the Rising. Directly opposite stood the Rotunda, where British forces established military positions, including barriers and machine-gun positions.
The Parnell Mooney therefore found itself in an extraordinary position: surrounded by the competing forces of the Rising. The luxurious Victorian public house that James G. Mooney had created as a place of comfort, brandy and cigars was suddenly looking out upon a city at war.
Gunfire replaced conversation. Barricades replaced ordinary traffic. The streets around the premises became a battlefield for the next six days. The Sherwood Foresters Regiment took possession of all pivotal buildings along this street on Friday April 28th, including the Parnell Mooney.
By Saturday, 29 April, the insurgents' position had become untenable. Patrick Pearse and the remaining leaders decided to surrender in order to prevent further loss of life. Pearse, accompanied by Elizabeth O'Farrell, approached the British military position and surrendered to General William Lowe. The surrender took place within only a few yards of the front door of The Parnell Mooney. The Parnell Mooney had witnessed the Rising from almost the centre of the storm. And it witnessed its end.
After the Rising
The end of the Rising did not mean an immediate return to normal life. The Parnell Mooney was closed for approximately two weeks after Easter Week. When it reopened, it initially operated with curtailed opening hours for several weeks. The physical damage to the premises was minimal but the interior told a different story.
True to their great traditions of military discipline the British forces engaged in an orgy of drunkenness followed by excessive looting. Not content alone with the fruits of barley from behind the bar, they proceeded to loot the clothing contents of Mooney's staff, some of whom were living on the third floor. Two of the Mooney Group managers had their entire wardrobe looted as evidenced by their subsequent claims to the Property Losses (1916) Committee, which were promptly settled.
The level of looting even extended to employee Margaret O'Hanlon, whose work costume and under garments were stolen. Margaret made a claim (no. 8931) to the Property Losses Committee for £1-19s-0d, equivalent to €220 today. (See details of claim courtesy of the Irish National Archives).
The Mooney Group decided not to seek compensation from the authorities for the losses incurred at The Parnell Mooney, although they made two large claims for the Abbey Mooney and Mooney's of Eden Quay, both of whom were destroyed in the Rising, totalling £11,000 (almost €1.5 million today).
Republican Neighbours
The revolutionary associations of the neighbourhood ran even deeper. Only a couple of doors away at number 75 stood the tobacco business of Thomas J. Clarke, the veteran Fenian and one of the most important organisers of the Easter Rising.
Clarke was the first signatory of the Proclamation of the Irish Republic. His tobacconist's shop became an important centre of Irish Republican Brotherhood activity in the years leading up to 1916. British intelligence and Dublin police were aware that republican activists were frequenting the premises.
The proximity of Clarke's shop to The Parnell Mooney is remarkable. British records have subsequently raised the intriguing possibility that small republican meetings may also have taken place in the Parnell Mooney before the Rising. In this respect, the choice of location would have been extraordinarily clever. To British eyes, an elegant Victorian Gin Palace would surely have been one of the last places in which clandestine republican meetings might be expected. That may have been precisely the attraction.
The pub offered ordinary commercial activity as a perfect cover. A few men sitting together over drinks would hardly have looked suspicious in an establishment designed for sociable conversations. The British authorities were looking for revolutionaries in revolutionary places. The last place they might have expected them was in a crowded Victorian pub.
The Mooney Years
Following the establishment of the Irish Free State in 1922, The Parnell Mooney entered another long and successful period. The days of the Victorian Gin Palace were by now long gone. The elaborate social rituals of the smoking room and the world of the nineteenth-century affluent gentleman had faded. But the fundamental strength of the premises remained: its location.
For decades, The Parnell Mooney remained one of the most popular establishments in the area.
The city shoppers provided a steady flow of business. Parnell Street and the surrounding streets remained busy commercial thoroughfares, and the pub offered a convenient meeting place for people moving through the city. Tourists were another important source of trade. The Parnell Monument remained a major landmark, while Nelson's Pillar continued to dominate Sackville Street until its destruction in 1966. Visitors to central Dublin passed through this area in large numbers.
But perhaps the most human source of trade came from directly across the road. The Rotunda Maternity Hospital generated an endless stream of anxious expectant fathers. For generations, men whose wives or partners were giving birth waited in the vicinity for news from the hospital. The Parnell Mooney provided somewhere nearby to sit, talk and have a few drinks to calm the nerves while awaiting the announcement that their child had been born.
It is an evocative image, very different to the halcyon days of the gin palace but to many this may have represented something more enduring. The Parnell Mooney had become part of the everyday family and emotional life of Dublin.
The Arrival of the Madigan Group — 1976
By the 1970s, the great Mooney era was approaching its conclusion. The licensed trade had changed dramatically since James G. Mooney's Victorian revolution. The Gin Palace belonged to another age, while the modern Irish pub had developed a very different character. In 1973, shares in the Mooney Group were suspended, and in 1975 the group began diversifying its pub interests.
Then, in 1976, The Parnell Mooney entered the ownership of the Madigan Group, one of the most successful pub groups of the later twentieth century. The change represented a major turning point. It was a new generation of professional pub ownership taking responsibility for this cultural landmark.
The Madigan Group inherited a building with an extraordinary pedigree. It had been licensed since 1823. It had been rebuilt by one of Dublin's greatest publicans. It had become a celebrated Victorian Gin Palace and survived the Easter Rising, the Irish Civil War and the birth of the infant Irish state.
The Parnell Dublin — Today
Today, a new spirit of hope, renewal and enthusiasm surrounds this old hostelry. The name has evolved from The Parnell Mooney to The Parnell Dublin, but the history remains embedded in the building. Few places offer such a convincing illustration of Dublin's remarkable pub heritage.
The Victorian frontage survives as a tangible reminder of James G. Mooney's extraordinary ambition. The building still occupies the same historic position. The Rotunda remains across the street. Moore Street remains nearby. Parnell Street still carries the name adopted in 1911.
And then there is Parnell himself. Standing proudly on the great monument that bears his name, Charles Stewart Parnell extends his hand towards the street. And, in one of those wonderful coincidences that make Dublin history so engaging, his outstretched hand points directly towards The Parnell Dublin.
For more than a century, it has almost seemed as though Ireland's "uncrowned king" has been directing customers towards the pub that he was once entertained in.
It is a peculiar piece of Dublin symbolism. But the fundamental purpose of The Parnell Dublin has remained remarkably constant. It is a place where people meet, chat and socialise; where business is conducted and where lasting friendships are born.
This is the story of The Parnell Dublin. It is not simply a story and a history of a pub. It is a story about Dublin itself.