Some Found Pub Prose: A Great and Generous Creature

'True, there be many Old Ales (so-called) that be but of this year’s brewing, and deserve but the name of Mild. Yet that Ale which is Old indeed demandeth one hour for the enjoyment of a pint, and even so a pleasant indolence lingereth, deterrent from bodily and spiritual exercise alike.'

There's something about the time spent drinking beer in pubs that brings out the best in good writers. George Orwell's wishlist in his 'The Moon Under Water' from 1946 is possibly the most famous - and there have been other pieces of writing previous to that work and many since. And it's an ongoing writing theme of course, with new 'odes' to pubs and the beer they serve appearing in social media, books, and other published pieces on a monthly basis, if not more frequently. But there is something quite nostalgic, whimsical and utopian about those older pub-related pieces from the more distant past. They can evoke in some of us more emotions and yearnings than the writing of today, or even from the memories our own early drinking exploits regardless of that era. That wistfulness probably stems from something imagined trumping something experienced in one part of our brain and the idea that the past was somehow better than the present. It wasn't of course, on most counts at least, but that doesn't stop our heads from creating a sentimental picture of some idyllic pub based on the descriptions of a long-dead writer, and from tasting the beer they drank - in our heads at least.

And I'm as guilty as anyone of this sort of foolishness.

-o-

While trawling through newspaper mentions for old pubs for yet another historical project, I came across a smattering of repeats in numerous papers in 1908 of a piece of pubcentric prose under the title, 'The Delights of an Old Alehouse.' It really gripped me as I read it and brought out some of the emotions mentioned above, but it wasn't in any way familiar to me which seemed odd, as it was extremely well written and clearly done by someone with a lot of talent. Luckily, at the end of the piece the author - Charles Hugh Davies - was credited as well as the source of the original publication, which was The Pall Mall Magazine. Some sleuthing and searching finally led me to the piece, which is actually just a small part of an article titled 'An Essaie in Prayse of Beer' which is a much broader love letter to beer, and especially old ale, as was hinted at in the excerpt I had read. I can't find it in any other source (apologies if it has been covered by others and I've just missed it.)

For me, the whole essay is a pure joy, both in style and content. The part I quoted at the very start was particularly resonant, as I have a particular interest in Old Ales - and Milds for that matter - and it also takes me exactly an hour to drink a pint in a pub, which has always seemed the right amount of time to spend on a pleasant beer by my estimation, so it was good to have my opinion reinforced by another drinker, even at the remove of over a century. Although, I'm not sure many present-day publicans would agree with Charles and my drinking pace in their pubs!

That original passage that I found in the newspapers and caught my attention I've transcribed here, and it includes some small details that were left out when published in those papers. Again the first line here sang strongly at me, as late afternoon is my favourite time to visit a pub and drink a beer or two.

Yet, to my mind, pleasantest of all is that great draught of Old Ale which may be drunk ’twixt half after three and five of a winter’s afternoon. Let a man go forth on foot with his dog and a stout stick, and let him walk some five brisk miles along a frosty road. Up hill and down he goes, 'twixt leafless hedgerows; his stick rings on the hard ground, his dog runs busily before. Now, it may be, he follows a lonely field path, and now tramps gaily down a village street. At last, as dusk falls, he sees a pleasant inn before him, back from the road a little way, with a great pole and signboard before - the Checquers[sic], or the Three Gold Cups. Firelight shines warm from the windows, and in he goes to a fair kitchen, where a leaping log-fire dances up the great chimney. Round the walls run benches, and at the fireside is a high-backed settle. Before the blaze hang spit and jack, and on the mantel stand brass candlesticks in a winking row. The rafters are black with smoke, and on the wall hangs a copper warming-pan. Down he sits in the settle, and his dog comes to him and lays his muzzle on his knee. Then, "A pint of Old, please. and a penn’orth of biscuits for the dog." The dog knows what is coming, and stands in the firelight watching the stout dame as she goes to draw the ale. His master draws from his pocket a blackened briar, with a well-knawed[sic] mouthpiece, and a black pouch. Slowly he fills his pipe and waits till the dame comes back with beer and biscuits. He lifts the willow-pattern mug - the best for warm and genial Old - and takes a draught, raising the pot, it may be, for a silent toast. Then he puts down his ale on the deal table at his elbow, breaks a biscuit, and throws a piece to the dog, who catches it before it touches the floor. Then, and then only, he lights his pipe, and so sits smoking, throwing biscuit to the dog; and taking slow draughts of the divine thing.

Perhaps the dame comes and sits at the other side of the chimney, or a labourer comes in from the fields. Then there is beer for the labourer, half of Old and half of Bitter, and talk of ratting and high politics. Then the biscuits are done, and the dog lies down before the blaze on the sanded floor. Half the ale is drunk, and the pipe is at its best. The Votary looks into his mug before he drinks, and admires the deep, rich hue. garnets and ebony in a crucible. He falls under the spell, he is a philosopher at the centre of ideas, the Idea of the Good. His thoughts glide down the emanating rays, and he sees clearly how good things are tobacco and fire and life. . . . His pipe is finished, but there’s more beer in the pot, and he lights up again. The dog is growling in his sleep, and the old labourer is looking into the fire with a wise air, though he is really thinking about turnips. Three-quarters of an hour are gone, and it is quite dark outside. The dame lights the lamp, and the man rouses himself with a jerk, drinks off his ale, looks into the fire, then up and out he goes into the frosty evening. If he were a fool he would stay and try to prolong the pleasure with another pint. But he is not a fool - no Beer-Lover is - and he knows - is it by experience? - that the best is done. So he whistles to his dog, and out they go into the starlight with a "good night" from the man and a volley of barks from the dog. Old Ale, Old Ale, thou are a great and generous creature!

I found this wonderfully descriptive and well written and to my mind it deserves to be well known, perhaps just as well as Orwell's piece even if it is somewhat different in style and content. It certainly puts a longing on me to visit such a place, and although I'm very glad we now have smoke-free pubs even the pipe mentions here sound pleasant and acceptable - as are dogs of course.

You might look at the nice illustration above by Herbert Cole that accompanied the essay in The Pall Mall magazine and think that it doesn't really match that piece of prose, and you would be right, as there is another pub related part contained in the full article that matches the image. It shows another side of pub life and interaction but is equally well written and descriptive.

But now he has had enough of solitude, so by eight he and his dog are tramping down the road to the village, moon overhead and snow under foot. Half a mile in ten minutes and they come to the Running Horses. A cheery hum streams out with the light from the uncurtained window, and grows suddenly louder as he pushes open the door, Then to the right, and he is standing in a haze of blue smoke before a glorious fire of peat and logs. All the places near the blaze are taken, but a young labourer gets up to make room for the gentleman. A fool would decline the offer; the Beer-Lover is not a fool, and he sits down in the empty place. They would none of them think the better of him if he did not, and half a pint will more than repay young Thomas. Conversation drops for a minute while two or three elders make polite remarks and the gentleman’s dog makes the acquaintance of that surly looking sheep-dog who has come out from under the settle. The sheep-dog’s owner speaks to him with no uncertain voice, and the dogs agree to tolerate each other, one at either end of the hearth. 'Then it is a pint of - the Votary hesitates, Mild or Old? Well, perhaps Old is a little drowsy for company; better make it Mild. The landlord, fat and rosy, makes it Mild. And half of Burton for young Thomas. So the beer comes—in pewters this time, the briar is lit, and the Votary leans back and looks around him. On the settle sit the landlord and two elders, and there are two more in Windsor chairs before the fire. He himself has a chair at the corner, with the mantel on his right. His dog is at his feet. This is the inner circle. Outside this are four or five others, younger men, two of them playing dominoes, while the landlord’s pretty daughter looks on and advises about the moves. Conversation resumes its course among the elders; one of the younger men sometimes makes a remark, but not often. They are talking about the old squire, the present Llanharan’s father. The landlord and another stand up for him, the others are recalling his iniquities. It all happened thirty years ago, so that they can talk scandal without slander. The stranger joins in now and then - not often, as most of the talk is in Welsh. He pulls at his mild ale and smokes. He has reached his third pint, and begins

"To look into the pewter pot,

And see the world as the world's not."

In the translucent red glory silence melts, and he talks more freely. Yes, his grandfather was old Dafi Llanfihangel, of the next parish. Oh yes, his father was the one that went to England to make his fortune. Did he make it? Well, no. Here comes a protesting chorus from the elders, and they are soon all deep in affairs of the ’50. Yes, yes, his father often talked of Wil Gat. Not dead yet? Well, Well! . . . What, ten o’clock already, all but five minutes? Well, it’s jolly to talk to people who know Wil Gat. "Good-night !" and "Good-night, sir!" from the elders. Then back through the snow, the dog snuffing the keen air, and barking furiously at every sound. And so to bed.

-o-

Charles Hugh Davies was born in 1887, so he wrote those words when he was just 21 years of age, but to my mind it reads as something written by someone much, much older, He was the eldest son of Thomas Davidson Davies and Elinor Lucy Thomas who lived in Bristol. His father was a maths professor whose family originally came from Wales which will explain the content of his second pub visit in his piece. Charles studied Classics in Magdalen College in Oxford, writing the above while still attending there. He worked in Burma (Myanmar) with the Indian Civil Service after leaving college, and joined the war after returning to England in 1915.

He was killed in action on the 17th of January 1916 when a piece of bomb shrapnel pierced the tent where he was sleeping and struck him on the head. He was just 28 years old.

Although he appears not to have done much writing after college I can't help but think that if he had survived the war he might have returned to writing, something he clearly had a talent for, and a piece like this would now be better known as some of his 'early work.' I have chosen just two sections from his essay on beer to highlight here, as both are pub-based and evocative, but the full piece of writing is linked below and deserves a full read to pull those visits into the broader context of his essay to beer - and there is quite a lot to take in.

If you want to read more about Charles and his life - and you should - there is more on Magdalen College's Slow Dusk website where I got the information for the short biography above. I also chose to show you all a photo of Charles from the same source; in memory of him and his rediscovered work.

So here he is, with his beautiful biscuit-loving dog ...

Charles Hugh Davies, BA and Madoc

(Photo courtesy of Magdalen College, Oxford via the Slow Dusk website)

Liam

The full text of Charles' article can be found on the Internet Archive website here.

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its source, and a link back to this post. Research was via The Internet Archive, The British Newspaper Archive, and the Slow Dusk website linked - all online. The illustration is from The Pall Mall Magazine on the Internet Archive site and the photo of Charles Hugh Davies is from the Magdalen College archives and not my own. It is used here for educational, non-profit reasons, and in memory of him. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

Opinion: A Closer Look at Ireland's Oldest Pubs

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved written fiction.

First came those skinny hardcover books such as The Little Red Hen, Rapunzel, and Puss in Boots et al published by Ladybird, which were soon followed by the outlandish rhythmic writing of Dr. Suess and others. Even back then, books were for me a form of escapism on wet and dreary weekends, or dark weekday evenings. I’d sit in an armchair in the kitchen beside the always-lit stove, reading them repeatedly as my mind drifted into the scenes depicted on the pages, where I became a participant in whatever story was unfolding in the pages. Growing older I never lost that ability to fall into a book, even when the illustrations disappeared and were replaced by fanciful descriptions - my imagination coping admirably with the scene being painted as I read all of those well-chosen words. For a good few years I practically lived and dreamed in the world of Tolkien’s Middle Earth, as the incredible tales in all of his books had me wandering over shires and scrambling up snow-capped peaks, or getting lost in deep-dark places. That world, and others, were places to escape into and perhaps even exist in, however briefly. I quickly became a fan of science fiction too and I was strangely drawn to the worlds literally created by Bob Shaw for one. Alan Dean Foster, Terry Pratchett and other purveyors of pure and perfect fiction also graced my bookshelves over the years although in recent decades my fiction tastes have moved on - or perhaps evolved - towards those of a more historical bent, or those by writers such a John Connolly or James Lee Burke, whose books occasionally waver wonderfully into the world between the real and the supernatural, but I still occasionally dip back in the realm of pure fantasy in all of those books from my teenage years, most of which I still possess, as is the affliction of the Collector-stroke-Hoarder.

Fiction and fantasy have their place in our lives as a source of entertainment and diversion, they are useful for many of us as a form of escapist therapy and a way to cocoon yourself in the words and worlds of comfort and imagination. But they are only stories. For sure, some may be loosely based on fact or are anchored back to a real-life event, even though the story itself wanders to a made-up world where dragons take flight, elves and goblins are at constant war, and unicorns do, well, whatever unicorns do in these places, which is usually just to exist. But we know these stories and fairytales not to be true, as they are outlandish by nature, or speak of things we know to be false, and we are all okay with that and can easily discern the facts from the fiction. These are tales, and not mistruths.

The issue is with narratives that purport to be true, stories that are based on some fact but sadly don’t contain those dragons, unicorns or elves, which would mark them as pure fantasy. These are the stories which began as a misunderstanding or a little marketing-driven truth-stretching, and which are then repeated so often that they become fact to most people, or to a point where people don’t really question them or care if they are true or not.

Add to this the fact that we Irish have a wealth of old stories and ancient sagas both in print and in the oral tradition of storytelling, and we love to repeat and revel in them, as we really, really love a good mythical tale. Perhaps this goes part of the way to understanding the acceptance and non-questioning repetition of the tales and legends that surround Irish brewing, its output, and of course our public houses.

-o-

I know. We’ve been here before many times. I’ve repeated - although I’d argue for the word reinforced -  much of it to a small if patiently attentive audience previously. I’ve rattled a sabre and gnashed my teeth on how we really don’t care about our true brewing and pub history in this country, although that’s probably a little unfair as we have been fed those same stories for a few generations in some cases so they are now just ingrained. It also means that newer beer-related enterprises are happy enough to create a story around a brand as long as there is a hint of truth to it – fakelore has become the norm. I’m sure that similar issues exist in other countries but Ireland’s recorded brewing and beer history doesn’t appear to go back as far as that of other countries, so it therefore left a smaller mark on our social timeline and written works. Although some of our commercial breweries were established in the 1700s, many were formed in the mid-1800s, and our now remaining beer brands are a good deal younger. Prior to that I think our drinking history was quite attuned to wine and strong spirits, with commercial brewing being encouraged in this country from the 18th century to wean the native population off the latter. (That’s a bit of a generalisation and not to say we didn’t have a huge amount of beer here in the previous centuries, we probably did, but our love for it seems to have gone through in waves perhaps?) Many other countries appear again to have had more a longevity of commercial brewing as well as a greater number of actual breweries that survived up until relatively recently, where we have not. Plus, with the serving of that beer the history of their hostelries and inns presumably has a longer timeline than ours, with more recorded history too given larger populations and more publications. Very early drinking establishments here seem to have been fonder of serving beverages other than beer (although the obviously served some) thanks perhaps to the legacy of the Norman’s fondness for wine and our own need for whiskey, plus possibly the lack of decent beer at that time? It is certainly an area for separate research and study for a later date, but this might explain place names such as Winetavern Street in Dublin and why our public house organisation is known as The Vintners Association. (Even what I’ve written here is splattered with question marks and words like 'perhaps' to as there are certain things I can't say with 100% authority, mainly because I am not one.)

That depth of knowledge and the records that exist in other countries means that research and therefore the writing of their brewing history is a little easier than here. I’m sure many beer writers elsewhere would say there is not enough in their countries either, but in relative terms it appears (yet again) at least that it is easier to trace the history of breweries, pubs and beer in general elsewhere than on the island of Ireland. Here we have very few viewable brewing records, very little written history on breweries with the exception of the few bigger ones, and almost nothing with any detail on the history of inns and public houses apart from a couple of notable exceptions. Irish breweries have been reduced to a dubious brand within larger organisations, and the actual range of their output in the past has been forgotten or sometimes just ignored. The same is true of much of the beer retailing side of the sector, including the history and provenance of our public houses. Perhaps in other countries, the depth of their recorded history and facts means there’s less of a need to generate a heritage around a beer brand, recreate the past of a brewery, or embellish the history of a public house - although in truth the latter clearly seems to be an issue in other places as well as here, as I’m sure many will attest to.

Post-truth seems to many of us to be a new phenomenon in our culture and most think it has been forced upon us by social media and ersatz news feeds, but post-truth as a concept appears to have been around for quite a long time in regard to Irish brewing, and its ancillary dependents.

-o-

I’ve dealt with the stories generated around Irish brewing before, and specifically with those surrounding the now - sadly - closed Smithwick’s brewery in Kilkenny for example. A short summation of my findings based on the available (to me) information is that I can find no definitive published source to prove the assertion that John Smithwick started a brewery in Kilkenny in 1710, I fact I can only find evidence to the contrary. There is little doubt that there was a John Smithwick in Kilkenny at this time, he’s even buried there, but - for example - his descendant Walter Smithwick in a talk given the local archaeology society in 1960 stated that ‘there are no records to show his precise business’ in 1710 when he arrived in the city. The famous lease that is talked about with regard to the partnership between Richard Cole and John Smithwick does not appear in any common source, and the lease of the land by Cole (only) that is on display at the Smithwicks’s Experience clearly is for a site nowhere near the purported site of the brewery at that time, as it is for a site near the Black Abbey close to the Breagagh river. The well-respected history writer Thomas Halpin stated in 1989 in an article for the Old Kilkenny Review that here was ‘no evidence available as to how [a] mercantile partnership between Messrs. Cole and Smithwick progressed.’ We can also note that the famous 1710 date only appeared at the end of the 19th century, which seems late for such a date to be first mooted, especially considering the stored and accumulated knowledge within the family. The first mention of a Smithwick’s brewery is when Edmond acquired the site near St. Francis Abbey - although not the actual abbey itself - in 1827 and converted it from a distillery, which is what it was according to advertisements for its sale, into a brewery and began brewing beer there. There is often mention of the penal laws but Edmond and his father John before him (a grandson of the original John) were merchants and owned property without any issue up to this time. There is also evidence to suggest that the original John wasn’t a catholic anyway, so the penal laws would not have impacted him depending on when and if he converted of course. If we are looking for published proof about their being a Smithwick’s brewery in or since 1710 it appears to be entirely lacking.

The reason I bring this up (Again!) is because if there were definitive proof would it not be in the public realm? Instead of talking portraits on a wall of there would be, the less entertaining and marketable I’ll admit, peer-reviewed papers on the history of the brewery, or fully referenced books on the subject. If there are then I can find none, which doesn’t mean they don’t exist admittedly. Is the absence of evidence enough to say something isn’t true? That’s a question for wiser minds than mine to debate …

Now, what if we applied the same criteria for public houses and their founding dates? What are the facts, as published or recorded or reported, that the now-told history was originally anchored to? We need to base the discussion on those published facts as we know them, excluding those used purely for marketing purpose where there is no commonly known source or reference for said information. I am assuming that if there was a defined historical source for any of this information it would be being linked to and touted by those responsible for the marketing, there would surely be clearly referenced articles and probably books written about the history of these places too. I am not setting out to disprove anything I should say, I'm more so trying to lay out the information I have found for you to make up your own mind or continue the research from where I leave off. I will also make a few suggestions on what I think may have happened earlier in a buildings life but I will try my best to not gallop through the facts on a unicorn. As you have seen, I use the word 'perhaps' quite a lot ...

But first we - or I - need to set the criteria for what constitutes ‘oldest pub’, and for this exercise I can keep it as relatively simple as having much of its structure dating from the period it purports to be from, and to have been in pretty much continuous use as an establishment that served beverages from that date to the present day. The name can have changed, as can its general purpose, so an inn, tavern, hotel, etc. can all be taken as a place that served alcoholic drink. These are my criteria for this exercise although I am sure that others would have differing opinions, and 'much of its structure' is very much open to interpretation admittedly, but it can be assessed case by case. Either way it would be impossible to argue a point without some rules, and those seem the best compromise to my mind at least.

Perhaps an interesting analogy for my thought process is that if you plant a tree on the site of one you cut down or died, does it take on the years of the previous tree? Or is it in fact a new tree with its own growing to do ...

-o-

There is that grey area for many as to the question of whether a rebuilt pub is the age of its first founding versus the age it is from its last rebuild, and it can be seen as subjective in truth. A good example of this conundrum would be The Palace Bar in Dublin, which, by the way, is a wonderful example of an Irish urban pub. That establishment was completely rebuilt in 19001, with the then owner Patrick Hall operating from 1 Burgh Quay while it was being erected. The ‘complete transformation of the old establishment’ was done by July of the following year2 and it reopened ‘after rebuilding’ on the 10th of July 19013, making it Edwardian if one was to be a pedant about it, but certainly of late Victorian design and fair to be classed as that. This public house recently celebrated its bicentenary, and I don’t know of its complete earlier history, although there are plenty of mentions of it being a public house in the 19th century, and a Thomas Corcoran was letting it as ‘A Public House’4 as early as 1828 so the date of 1823 could well be correct for the site, even to there also seems to be a piano seller at that address at that date (But we must remember that these sites had more than one floor, so multiple business could exist at the same address.) Could it be argued that a centenary celebration in 2001 would have been more appropriate - and accurate - where the architecture and fittings from that truly wonderful era at the turn of the century could be justly highlighted, celebrated and appreciated? Maybe, and indeed it is no doubt because of these ‘airy, lofty, palatial’ alterations as they were called in a newspaper’s ‘obituary’ to the old building, that the premises gained its moniker5, and this should be a story in itself. (By the way, there seems to be an obsession in this country with giving the label ‘Victorian’ to our pubs, when it could be argued that those of the Edwardian era are by far the more detailed, interesting and salubrious, to my eye at least.)

Given how that business changed hands and the relatively recent ability to search online records and old newspapers at ease, it’s more that possible that there was no awareness of this significant date of 1901 in the recent past, so if the general story passed down was that the premises, or indeed the license, dates from 1823 and the plot of land is the same then there are those who could certainly argue that the age of the pub as an entity is from that earlier date. And in fairness, even the National Built Heritage Service6, is a little vague on the buildings date, giving it as 1880 to 1900, which is close, although they state ‘c.1890’ which it clearly is not and as we can see, a reminder that the term ‘circa’ should be taken as that, and not as a verbatim date. But none of this takes from the bar itself, which I freely admit now is one of my favourites in the city. I say all of this just as an example of things can become more than a little confused without researching and knowing the full history of a premises, and it seems that even such excellent sources as the NBHS can be slightly wrong in some cases. (As another example, I have previously spotted7, that The International Bar is stated to having built in 1911 by the NBHS when according to newspaper reports that seem quite iron clad it was built in 1898, unless it was torn down and rebuilt a little over a decade later, which is possible but doubtful?)

The truth is that with all of this confusing information we need to thread carefully, with or without carrying a big stick. All I can do is look at the information that exists for the armchair researcher, based on online sources, and published books and newspapers available to me with ease. As mentioned already, what has changed in the last few years is the ability to do real research from that armchair given the huge volume of online material now available, with some publications going back centuries. It is possible now to find information that was lost or missing just a few years ago, so certain omissions or confusions from the past were understandable and almost acceptable in many cases, and I'm not here to point fingers in any direction.

-o-

So, back to the oldest pubs in Ireland discussion and we shall stay in Dublin, and venture to The Brazen Inn, which claims on its website has been a ‘hostelry’ since 1198, although it does state the present building was built in 1754 as a coaching inn, but that The Brazen head appears on documents back to 1653, and adds that a Christopher Quin fitted out the inn with rooms and a large cellar in the 1750s – and that would appear to be its full history as given by the business online. It is also commonly reported that the words ‘John Langan halted here 7th August 1726’ are etched into a window on the premises but I cannot see an image online for verification although it is mentioned quite often, as are other comments stating that it actually says ‘John Lonergan’ and ‘1786’ so we can’t base anything on these dates, and we can immediately see how confusion can reign in these cases, as well as the limitations of home research - I can’t quickly nip out with a magnifying glass and check the inscription! – but the later dates seems more accurate perhaps, given that that coaching inn dates from the 1750s according to the pub itself.

A lot has been written about The Brazen Head both online and in paper-published form, and much of the more recent pieces on the internet and social media seem to just regurgitate something written by others, or just quote the pubs website. But luckily there are quite a few works with historical notes and commentary too. One of the best I have found is a paper called The Brazen Head Re-Visited by Timothy Dawson8, which he read to The Old Dublin Society in 1971 before it being subsequently published. It goes into great detail with regard to the site where the pub now stands and mentions that the name The Brazen Head dates to at least 1613, but also states that this is in a legal claim from 1700 which just references the older date. There is no mention of the words ‘The Brazen Head Inn’ until 1754 in that Timothy Dawson piece, when it is referenced in a lease description. Plus, a year later it was mentioned as ‘the new Brazen Head Inn’, a quotation which could be taken to mean a new inn or a new version of the inn in fairness.

‘The Brazen-Head in Bridge-Street’ is mentioned in newspapers as early as 1705 where a Mr. Hollingsworth seemingly kept a ‘hard-ware-house’ there9 and although it certainly wasn’t unusual for individuals to operate temporary businesses from inns, a hardware supplier is strange, although he seems to have dealt in smaller items like knifes, buckles, and ‘cizzars’! But it was more likely that he operated from a warehouse at the front of the premises, as there were certainly such a structure there around that era, and later - keep in mind that the original building is set well back from the street. (Seemingly, there was also a Brazen-Head on Dames Street in Dublin in 1711 so care must be taken on references.10)

The earliest mention I can find in newspapers for an inn on the site is for a James Rose of the city of Dublin who …

… at very great expense, has furnished, in the genteelest and most commodious manner, the Brazen-Head Inn in Bridge-Street, Dublin, it being a most compleat new-built House, containing thirty rooms, and stables for an hundred horses; he has also laid in a large stock of the best of wines, and all sorts of spirituous liquors of the neatest kinds; and as he intends that no care, diligence or expense shall be wanting on his part, to render his accommodations agreeable, hopes that all gentlemen, merchants and others, who will be pleased to favour him with their custom, shall meet with the greatest satisfaction; and as it will be for his own interest, so it shall always be his constant endeavours to merit continuance of their favour.11

Fine words indeed and the words new-built ring out, although the dates don’t quite match up with the prescribed history it is possible and likely that Mr. Rose took over the business from that Mr. Quin, who built the building a couple of years previously. (Online newspaper sources tend to miss out certain years, including that one unfortunately - and frustratingly!)

The building has been altered and added to over the years but the structure of the original inn appears to remain. That first 1750s structure is set back from the street, as mentioned, and there was still that warehouse in front of it in the mid-1800s. The inn itself seems to have been expanded and ‘much improved and enlarged' in 1890 when it was called the Brazen Head Hotel and comprised numbers 19, 20 and 21 Lower Bridge Street12 although this was split soon after with 19 and 20 becoming Doherty’s Hotel and the Brazen Head, the 'back portion of the concerns’ being given up by Mr. Doherty – so it appears that two separate inn-like businesses operated on and around the site at this time, which is a good example as to how the architecture and provenance of these buildings can be confusing, (Indeed the numbers on the street move around a bit too, something that was common enough but meaning that the establishment can be found in connection with two street numbers, as number 31 became number 20 in 1844.)

Interestingly, in Irwin's Historical and Descriptive Guide to Dublin published in 1853 an advertisement for the hotel sets the established date as 1710, although sadly no history is listed. I’ve also seen the date 1668 quoted as well as 1666 and that it was originally called the Standfast Inn with a date of 1210. In Rare Old Dublin: Heroes, Hawkers & Hoors Frank Hopkins states that the first mention was in 1613 in a fine levied on the property, which is the mention already noted above although as stressed it is a reference to 1613 made at a later date. Although both Frank Hopkins and Timothy Dawson call the building an inn he quotes from a court paper in 1703 that clearly states it was ‘a large timber house’ which given this was an area of merchant’s house as per the same source, it sounds like it may have been just that, a house and not an inn at that time? Although at this period some houses were beginning to convert their lower floor for shops and other similar uses and, confusingly, inns were also just called houses so it's difficult to assess in any definite way.

One of the most prolific statements is that the present structure dates from that 1668 date, but we can clearly see that this isn’t the case, a William Withering or Witherington or Witheringham was the alleged owner at that time but, frustratingly, I can find no original sources for this claim, just repeated mentions - which doesn’t mean they don’t exist of course, it just means I cannot find them!

Nor can I see any reliable, definitive evidence for the 1198 claim other than there is an implication that there would have been an inn somewhere around there give that this was seemingly a place where the Liffey was crossed and was just inside the city walls? There is mention of the Steadfast Inn I referenced above existing in 1210 and another in the general area, but I can’t see any proof of location or even there actual existence.

There is no doubt that there was a structure on or near the site but I can’t find evidence as to what it was apart from being a building called The Brazen Head, whether this was an inn, a private house or a completely different business - most business back then used signs, not just inns. Even the mention by Jonathan Swift in a published letter written in 1727 mention, ‘Here only, at the sign of the Brazen Head, are to be sold places and pensions: beware of counterfeits, and take care of mistaking the door,’ which is extremely unhelpful. Plus if this is the basis for the suggestion he frequented the place as an inn it seems pretty unreliable.13

But much of this is irrelevant in any case, as based on my original criteria of the date of the structure being key to my interpretation of the age of the pub, it dates from at least 1756 when it was listed as new built, or more likely 1754 if I could see the lease that is mentioned or the quoted advertisement. It is certainly a place of huge interest and of historical note, especially the original structure to the rear - as the stone castle-like structure to the front is much more recent. There was certainly another structure on Bridge Street called The Brazen Head before this time but I sadly couldn’t find mention from first-hand sources that that building was also definitely an inn, although it is quite possible it was, or became one. But regardless, from the information I have gleaned during this research even the later building has a fascinating, enthralling and real story that could and should - and perhaps is - being told. Its 250 year old history is certainly of huge significance to both historians and the more curious members of the general public.

-o-

The other hyped oldest Irish pub is of course Sean’s Bar in Athlone, and whereas there is the world of information about the site of The Brazen Head there is very little written information on Sean’s Bar prior to the last few decades. This is partly due to the huge population differences and interest in Dublin and its specific built heritage versus Athlone's (although there is a lot of general writing about the town itself) and also because Sean’s Bar’s claim is relatively new. It proves how frustrating it is to track down and confirm information about certain structures and businesses in this country without trawling through deeds and other lists of information in record offices, which is what an actual historian would do of course! What can be very exasperating is the lack of information from independent sources, and in the case of this bar it all seems to revolve around repetitive write-ups, fairly recent interviews and the very basic information given by the pub itself rather than historical records.

(For clarity, James Wright of Triskele Heritage has written a piece about the bar which I will link to at the end of this piece, and I will try to add to, and not derive, information from that article although there is obviously a little overlap with my findings.)

From ground floor level Sean’s Bar doesn’t seem very old, especially given the name and the relatively plain facade, unadorned apart from some modern signage and those pillars that were - fun fact - moved from Gill’s bookshop in Dublin and stuck to the front of the building in the 1970s by the then owner Sean Fitzsimons, who took over the bar from original Sean who the place was named for - Sean O’Brien.14 That appearance is certainly in its favour as it hasn’t plastered a faux old-world look onto the frontage to make it appear old in a contrived manner. The bar is just one side of a larger, complete, asymmetrical building, which we will look at later, and it sits on Main Street on the Roscommon side of Athlone, quite close to the castle site.

The older name most associated with the building is that of The Three Blackamoors Heads Inn or various versions of the same name. (Please note that I use name not to cause offense, but for descriptive historical accuracy.) A Jacob Jacques or Jacob James15 appears to have had an inn or hotel on that side of the river in the late 1600s although no exact location or name for his inn is given in any sources I have come across so he must be ignored as a previous owner of this inn, but in 1719 a James Begg had an establishment called The Three Blackamores [sic] Heads’16 according to a newspaper mention from that year. Other names are also associated with an inn of that name, such as (probably) Mark Begg15 , James Begg, Margret Lorcan (or Lorcon) a widow in 1748, and Thomas Nolan, who married Mrs Lorcan later. Dillon Naughton had the premises17 in the 1756 and it was in the possession of Pat Donolly in 1808 when it was called The Three Blacks and when he vacated it it was to be let quickly or it would ‘be converted into shops, and let to solvent tenants, with convenient apartments, and stabling if required.’18 The final mention I can find is by the same truncated name when it was being ran by John and Isabella Dowd in 1843.19 The name appears to die out after that and it would be extremely difficult for me to track or trace any owners to the site after that without having access to deeds or similar records, or unless new information comes to light. There is a prominent publican called Patrick Cullen mentioned as having a public house in the second half of the 19th century, as well as a Mrs. Cullen – probably his widow - when he died. I have no idea if that was the same premises, although The Slater’s Directory from 1846 gives no inn on Main Street and just one public house owned by a Patrick Cullin (Cultin?). Griffiths Valuation map and ledger list an Ellen Cullen occupying the property that is now Sean’s Bar but not owning the site, although confusingly she appears to have owned the two sites next door, closer to the river end of the street. I wonder did the Cullens take over the license when the Dowds finished up? If provable then that would give continuation for the site - or part of it more probably as we shall see - being the original Blackamoor Heads Inn. With the exception of Mark Begg, the modern bar in question hasn’t published much information on previous owners that I can find, which would hopefully link back to some of these names, so my trail runs cold - or is luke-warm at best - here. (There was also an inn called the ‘Head Inn’ on the other side of the river on Church Street in the early 19th century which surely must have caused confusion!20 I’m not sure if it was a play on words or whether it referenced something else, there was a Crown Inn close by or on the same site in the late 18th century so perhaps it was a derivation from that. It's also quite frustrating that mentions of an inn on the 'main street' often meant a premises on Church Street on the other side of the Shannon, as this was the main street of the town! Also worth mentioning is that the name, The Three Blackamoors, was a relatively common name for an inn or tavern and there are quite a few mentioned around the country, which makes research a little tedious at times.)

But where precisely was The Blackamoor Inn on Main Street? As this would help us pick up the trail, although in reverse fashion.

Maps prior to the Ordnance Survey versions are unhelpful to our quest to pinpoint the exact location of the original inn, with many showing streets but no detail to buildings, or just streets. For example The Irish Historic Towns Atlas (IHTA)21 for Athlone has a map from the Sherrard’s survey of 1784 but doesn’t show the inn although it positions others on the Leinster side of the town, even though we know it was in existence at that time (That street was possibly out of Sherrard's brief?), and other maps from the 17th century also lack detail to be of any real help. The IHTA has no mention of the current establishment although it does mention the Three Blackamoor Heads, but sadly with no detail apart from a reference to deeds I have no easy access to at this point.

But we have some clues, as when the Pat Donolly mentioned above had vacated it in 1808, it was being described as an ‘extensive inn’ and having ‘an abundance of house room, with stabling to accommodate 60 horses, and a passage for water to the River Shannon, at the rear of the concerns.’ It was also said to be ‘in the centre of the main street.’ This is an interesting comment, because prior to the erection of the new crossing in c. 1844, the bridge over the river was situated quite some meters to the south and lined up with our Main Street making it the main thoroughfare west – which is how it got its name of course – and the houses and other building on the street ran right down to the bridge before some were demolished or altered to make way for a quay for navigation and boat mooring purposes. If playing Devil’s Advocate and one looked at where the ‘centre’ of the street was it would be somewhat removed from the existing bar by some margin, although the ordnance survey map (6” OSI) from the late first half of the 19th century shows the gap in the buildings on the street where there was access to the stables mentioned perhaps? This was clearly built over at a later period, possibly when there was an extra floor added to the premises, before being completely blocked up then or at a later date. This also accounts for the strange positioning of the windows with a larger space on the left than on the right if you look at the complete façade of the building that incorporates the bar. This would lead us to assume that this opening was part of that building and the current site – which incorporates a separate business to the pub now – and therefore even without looking at deeds or any other information it does feel right that this was indeed the site of the Blackamoor Inn, although there isn’t any definitive proof I can find so we are in the area of 'possibles' and 'probables,' which is never a comfortable place to be, as it may be where those unicorns reside.

Interestingly, one source gives the road frontage of the site that contained the original inn as 66 feet17, if this is correct and in Irish feet more so than Imperial feet it would include exactly the facade as discussed plus the peculiarly narrow building on the left as we look at the building. (Measurement was taken from the recent OS map online.) That whole frontage was owned or leased as three properties by Ellen Cullen at the time of the Griffiths valuation c. 1855. This of course may be meaningless but if we think of an inn with an archway/opening for carriages then it would make sense that it would include a building on the other side of the arch also, perhaps for security or for accommodation for stable hands or coach drivers, etc.? It would also help with the comment that the site was in the middle of Main Street as this would pull the whole site closer to the bridge. I think it is very possible that the then owner did split up the frontage into three separate entities after 1808, with the current public house becoming a smaller part of the whole at that time and still called The Three Blacks, later ran by the Dowds and then the Cullens. All of that is a stretch granted, although it is based on maps and the visible streetscape, although I am acutely aware of not wanting to drift down the road of fiction and become part of a problem instead of helping with solutions, so as you can see this is just pure guesswork, if vaguely educated perhaps? Although I do feel the nuzzle of that unicorn on my shoulder ...

So what age is the building? The National Built Heritage Service22  state 1700 – 1750 before plumping for the average which is ‘c.1725’ but as we have seen this can be a little out and should not be taken as an exact date, nor is it expected to be of course. There were a couple of significant events in Athlone’s history that might shed light on a closer date, and that was the great siege of Athlone where ‘the east town was burnt in 1690, and when the west town and the castle were reduced to rubble by '12,000 cannon bullets, 600 bombs, nigh 50 ton of powder and a great many ton of stones' fired off by the Williamite artillery’21 the following year. With its close proximity to the castle it would be hard to see how any building on this site would have survived such an intense bombardment, and add to this that in 1697 a bolt of lightning hit the castle and ignited ‘260 barrels of [gun]powder, 1,000 charged hand-grenades, with 810 skains(sic) of match [Flammable cord used to fire cannons, etc.] which were piled over them, 220 barrels of musket and pistol balls’23 and tools, horseshoes and nails, which caused destruction and fire throughout the town and one would assume that Main Street took the brunt of the damage given its proximity to the castle. Indeed in 1819 Rev. Stean quotes from a source from just after the calamity occurred - ‘the lighted match forcing the thatched houses burned to the ground the greatest part of what the thunder and blast had left standing yet little remained of the whole town but a few poor cottages without the gates …’23 (As an aside, the good reverend also states that ‘there is one very bad inn’ on this side of Athlone in 1819 but sadly he refrains from giving the name or position!)  So, although this is pure conjecture, it very possible that the inn was newly built by the above-mentioned James Begg prior to his newspaper mention in 1719. The town was supposed to have recovered rapidly from the destruction so it is certainly conceivably that the building was erected in the very, very late 1690s or the first decade of the 1700s. Again, I have no proof of this but I would suggest that the building dates from closer to 1700, which ties in with the range given by the NBHS too, and if it is the same building as owned by James Begg mentioned above then it must be prior to 1719 at the very least.

Of course there is mention of it dating back further, much further. For example there is reference to a selection of old coins and a section of ‘wattle and wicker’ (surely it should be wattle and daub?) that dates back to ‘the ninth century.’ Notes on the excellent Historic Environment Viewer24 for the site state the following, ‘'Sean's Bar' was originally a two storey high building with thick walls, an additional third storey in brick was added later. Preserved on the premises is a section of wattle partition removed from a first floor wall. This could be of seventeenth century date [my emphasis] but it is not securely dated (Bradley et. al. 1985, 28).’ (Were there any two-storey buildings like this in the 9th century? That would seem odd, as surely any structures of a commercial type were single storey? I'm not sure of course.) It is also worth noting that the letter taped on to the wattle and daub display from the National Museum of Ireland, sent to Anna Fitzsimons and dated 1972, says in what appears to be a reply sent back to Mrs. Fitzsimons that wattle a daub was used from very early times to the present day before going on to mention the excavations being carried out at that time in Dublin around Winetavern Street, and that the wattle work there was dated between the 9th and 13th century.25 It doesn’t mention anything about the date of the wall on display, so perhaps there is confusion around the meaning of the letter? I'm really not sure again. When contacted, the National Museum of Ireland said they had no records to support any claim that the dates were verified by them, and they know of no record of the wattle and daub being sampled and dated. They did say that they have around thirty trade tokens that relate to Athlone on their database, but they are 17th century and they had no information that they related to this pub. I have no idea why they have no record of the finds but sadly I have once again reached a dead-end in my research in this direction with this avenue closed to me. (Incidentally, I discovered that oft-mentioned old fireplace on the site was relocated there from a completely different structure, as per another note on the Historic Environment Viewer which states, ‘On the premises of Sean's Bar, 13 Main Street, is a late medieval stone built fireplace from a house on an island in Lough Ree (Bradley et. al. 1985, 28).’ This is fascinating and I'm sure there's a good story being told about how it came to be placed in its current spot, as well as the history of the house from which it came!)

Of the story about Luain and his tavern from 900ad I can sadly find no trace in historical records, a person called Luain or Luan is indeed mentioned in sources but many older mentions of the meaning of 'Athlone' state that Luain came from the Irish for moon and that the name comes from the Ford of the Moon, while other various sources mention it comes from the word for ‘swift’, signifying the rapids at the ford or early bridge. The IHTA gives two derivations, one from the story The Táin’ mentioning the haunch (lon) of the white-horned bull of Mág Ai that was dropped into the river here having been killed by the brown bull of Cúailnge, but also mentions that it may refer to Luan who was shot along with his lover and died on the ford of the river, or another Luan who was slain there in battle. There is a mention in ‘The Fate of the Children of Tuireann’ of - in Irish - ‘Ath-Luain-mic-Luighdheach’ being the crossing at Athlone, so perhaps the source is that myth but we can clearly see here we have drifted into the realms of fantasy and storytelling we discussed at the start, and has far as I am aware these legendary stories are set in prehistory of the 1st century? As with so many place names in Ireland its true derivation may remain lost to time, language changes and the repetition of erroneous material - so sadly this was another dead-end! More modern references do certainly mention the Ford of Luan and many say that it is named after a person called Luan but don’t generally go much further than that comment.

There is also mention of the Guinness Book of Records certificate for the oldest pub in Ireland but the publication now distances itself from these types of certificates, and indeed Dan from the Twitter/X account for the Guinness World Records wrote in reply to a query on this very bar in 2017 that, 'The record for the 'Oldest Pub' was rested in 2000 when it became clear that it was not possible to verify it in full.'26 So without being able to contact GWR to ask more about the certificate I've ended up at yet another dead-end! It really feels like I'm an unwanted entity ...

From what I’ve researched and admittedly surmised at times (but with sound reasoning) some of the complete building that Sean’s Bar’ is a part of seem to date from around 1700 BUT I have absolutely no proof of that. If I could be sure that the site was definitely The Blackamoor Inn and that is the early 18th century frontage of the structure (although I do believe it very probably is given what I’ve seen and read) then it might make it one of the oldest pubs in Ireland still operating within (some of) its own walls, and it pips The Brazen Head by 50 years or so IF this is the case, even if the later has grown in size and the former shrank, or so it appears from the architecture. And, I admit that this is not a very good conclusion or assessment but I have been frustrated by dead-ends and lack of first hand accounts as you have seen.

-o-

So, based on all of that information and factoring my own criteria for what constitutes the age of a pub – structure, etc. – there are still a lot of grey areas and unanswered questions. I’m an awful lot wiser but it would be great if both establishments could publish detailed books or well referenced write-ups in order that their claims can be better researched, verified and lauded. But this is true for all of our older pubs in fairness.

And this all raises the question of whether there are other older pubs in Ireland that have operated out of the same structure since opening? I have no idea, although there are some other less famous contenders ...

As mentioned already, I set my own personal criteria for this exploration and they might not concur with yours, or other’s findings. I can't say that yours - or theirs - are erroneous, as it depends on the criteria set and other evidence that is still be found. Unfortunately for me, many of the avenues I thought would be of help ended up being closed off, but I will revisit all of this again as new information is always coming to light.

-o-

Why does any of this matter? Well, it doesn’t really and I’m not sure that anyone really believes the foundation dates of any pubs, breweries or businesses prior to the end of the 19th century anyway. Do they? I have previously discussed pubs being seen as repositories and keepers of our past brewing7, and not long after that piece a large multinational drinks company started to do just that. But there needs to be some independent and ‘proper’ museum-based oversight so that we know the right information is being communicated and has been verified by critical, knowledgeable historians.

As always, we need marketing-free honesty and factual accuracy in our brewing history. Keep the fiction to those sci-fi and fantasy books we all enjoy - unicorns and all ...

Liam K

The link to my Smithwick's post is here.

The link to James Wright of Triskele Heritage's piece is here.

(The image used at the start is called 'The 'Scene of the Last Struggle in Athlone - Connaught Side' and is via Google Books from Here and There Through Ireland Part 1 by Mary Banim -1891 and shows Main Street with the Sean's Bar site just out of view on the left.)

1 Evening Herald (Dublin) - Monday 14th May 1900

2 Sport (Dublin) - Saturday 13th July 1901

3  Dublin Evening Telegraph - Tuesday 9th July 1901

4 Saunders's News-Letter - Saturday 23rd August 1828

5 Sport (Dublin) - Saturday 13th July 1901

6 www.buildingsofireland.ie/buildings-search/building/50020224/the-palace-bar-21-fleet-street-dublin-2-dublin

7  www.beerfoodtravel.blogspot.com/2024/03/100-years-of-irish-brewing-in-50.html

8  www.jstor.org/stable/30082554

9  Pue's Occurrences - Saturday 14th July 1705

10 Dublin Intelligence - Saturday 17 March 1711

11 Pue's Occurrences - Tuesday 9th March 1756

12 Western People - Saturday 8th November 1890

13 A LETTER to THE WRITER of the OCCASIONAL PAPER Vide the CRAFTSMAN -1727

14 www.westmeathindependent.ie/2022/02/08/street-wise-athlones-main-street/

15 The Proceedings and Papers of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland by Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland · 1892

16 Pue's Occurrences - Tuesday 9th June 1719

17 www.tailte.ie/en/blog/women-property-in-the-registry-of-deeds.html

18 Saunders's News-Letter - Saturday 21st May 1808

19 Newry Telegraph - Saturday 25th March 1843

20 Dublin Evening Post - Thursday 9th March 1815

21 www.s3-eu-west-1.amazonaws.com/assets.ria.ie/ihta/ihta-digital/anglo-norman-towns/athlone/IHTA_06_Athlone_Text.pdf

22 www.buildingsofireland.ie/buildings-search/building/15000331/11-13-main-street-athlone-and-bigmeadow-athlone-westmeath

23 A Statistical Account, Or Parochial Survey of Ireland Drawn Up from the Communications of the Clergy · Volume 3 by William Shaw Mason - 1819

24www.heritagedata.maps.arcgis.com/apps/webappviewer/index.html?id=0c9eb9575b544081b0d296436d8f60f8&query=18a4b61b268-layer-9%2CSMRS%2CWM029-042086-

25 www.loyaltytraveler.boardingarea.com/2019/03/14/revisiting-seans-bar-irelands-oldest-pub/

26 www.x.com/GWR/status/819116736473681922?t=AFgWZzyUgxgXUvx7NIpr7Q&s=19

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post.  Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

Of Lovers & Libations

Pinpricks of light wink and twinkle in the milky smear that runs across the night sky.

In the distance yellow light brightly glows through narrow windows, eclipsed at times.

Two pairs of sure steps on the hard stone road echo from old walls and empty homes.

Hands held, their breath mingles as they stop and gently kiss in the clear and frosty air.

They continue onward, closer now, the smell of turf smoke drifting in the too-still night.

Laughter pierces from the briefly opened door, then a booming voice erupts and flows.

A trail of twisted sparks appears then dies in the sky above the clay-fired chimney pot.

A stealing cat weaves between their slowing feet, now the door is within reach. A sigh.

 

The latch is thumbed, the door pushed. Heat and light spill out alongside jumbled noise.

Inside the place, the cold eyes of warm bodies settle briefly on theirs, then turn away.

They walk together to the altar of hardened timber, of wet rings, of offerings, of wants.

The curate’s eye caught, the await the ritual of the pour. Two bottles, two glasses. One look.

A fireside seat found, burning peat hides brazen faces. Low voices, and glares and glances.

They raise their glasses to their lips and drink as one. Darkness and bitterness wash over.

They go to leave, but then a fiddle strikes, a box joins, and a stick beats time against a skin.

One knows this melody and now their voice sings clear and strong of love’s desire. All quieten.

Hurting haunting silence, then hands bang on tables and some nod approval, but to what?

Then, placed with them, two small glasses filled with amber warmth and guarded tolerance.

The music starts again, and the lovers drink, content as now inner passion fills their hearts.

Outside snow begins to fall, twirling and swirling, its flat flakes all different but all the same.

Liam K

Opinion: On Beer Twitter ...

The beercentric side of Twitter is for me like a favourite pub …

It's one I’ve been going to for quite a while because it’s easy to reach and familiar to me – comfortable perhaps. I’m on at least nodding terms with many of the clientele who frequent it and I interact with all of them a little differently. Some I greet with humour, others with sarcasm and a few with serious replies to their question. Many I can sit beside unbidden to have a chat with and vice versa, some I greet briefly, and a few I just salute. Some I've fallen out with, for now ...

 And of course there are some I ignore completely, as they do me.

I don’t like the politics and opinions that certain other patrons subscribe to - in fact I find their choices dreadful - but I can easily ignore their treatise to join their legions and tend to change the conversation to other topics or just move away to another barstool with a polite excuse. Occasionally a rowdy, group of loudmouths come in and start shouting nonsense but I have the ability to mute them and continue my conversations with others, although sometimes I’ll just sit quietly with my pint, being amused - or often bemused - by their antics and stupidity.

The business changed hands a while ago but it made no real meaningful difference to my visits to the place, even if the new owners did do some odd things like letting back in some of those who were previously barred and limiting the number of drinks for some of their customers. They also created a VIP section that you had to pay to enter, and they changed the furniture around a little, but the fixtures and fittings remained pretty much the same. As did the core clientele, although some folks have left or are threatening to leave, and a few don’t call in quite as often as they used to do.

But for me personally the place operates in the same general way. I can enter through the same front door and choose who to sit with, who to talk to, and who to ignore - although admittedly I'm not on the premises as often as others so perhaps that makes a difference. For me it’s the people within the walls who make the pub - it's only a building after all - and if you enjoy conversing and interacting with them then why leave or change locations? I’ve investigated some other pubs to see what the fuss is about; I’ve even drank in one or two - but they are not quite the same. They feel wrong, they are not a good fit for me and not all of the people I enjoy mingling with are there either. Also, some of the new pubs have too many rooms or are so big that it’s impossible to find others inside, and certainly to hear people speak - and it’s even hard to find a comfortable, familiar-feeling seat.

It’s not a perfect pub by any means but perhaps I’m like one of those shattered old men you see in black and white photographs of a pub from the past, who sit at the bar with their pint and their newspaper and a quizzical expression on their face, and who you can tell needs that place more than it needs them. Who interacts just enough to get enjoyment, who like conversing from the safety of their barstool or that comfortable seat in the snug. Who can preach with the knowledge of never being taken seriously and find a willing pair of ears in moments of acute exasperation or troubled desperation.

Selfish or foolish as it may be, I’ll be staying put until the turn the key in the lock for the very last time, or it burns down around me ...

Cheers.

Liam K

Please note, all content published here is my own unless and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post.

What's in a Name? Irish Pub Signage and that 1872 Licensing Legislation...

The internet is for sure a wonderful resource for writers and researchers - it's full of books, articles and news that can be accessed at the click of a few keys. It's quite easy to lose yourself in an archive or scroll almost endlessly through social media posts relevant to your interests and hobbies, but it can also make the perpetuation of the most infamous of news - fake news - easier, quicker and more easily believed, as a so-called 'fact' can work it's way around the world at lightening speed, growing exponentially with each retweet or share.

This effect also causes issues in the world-within-a-world of beer, public house and brewing history, where a erroneous story published in one article or book gets repeated to the point where it becomes ingrained in the folklore of beer history - and we all know examples of this kind of  problem, as many have been well documented and exposed by others.

As an example of this issue from closer to home I'd like to delve into some comments I've spotted recently regarding as to how almost all Irish pubs came to have a family name emblazoned in big letters along their frontage. Here are some examples from books, articles and social media, which are often accompanied by questioning titles such as 'Why Irish pubs have family names over the doors?'

"I know the act of 1872 meant that pubs were forced to use their family names..."

"In 1872 it became a legal requirement to display the proprietor's name over the front door of the premises. The legacy of this is that often a pub today operates under a long-obsolete family name."

"... pub names in Ireland tend to bear the name of the proprietor, [...] a result of the requirement to do so  [in] the Licensing Act of 1872."

"Legislation passed in 1872 meant that it was a legal requirement for the owner of the premises to have their name over the front door. The legacy of this law has forward-rolled into something of a tradition, and a unique feature for Irish pubs around the world."

These examples could be read in different ways of course, but taken as a whole and within the context of where they appear, and combined with the images of pub fronts that accompany some of the articles it is quite easy to infer that they mean that Irish publicans after 1872 had to put their names big and bold on the front of their buildings because of this legislation, regardless of whether this was the implication of the wording of the writer in some cases.

This all seems to stem from Kevin Martin's excellent and must-read book 'Have ye no Homes to go to? - The History of the Irish Pub' where he states the following:

It became a legal requirement to display the proprietor’s name over the front door of the premises after legislation passed in 1872. The legacy of this law is often cited as one of the unique features of the Irish pub. Often, a public house operates under a long-obsolete family name – a signature feature in the boom of “Irish pubs” outside Ireland. This change in legislation limited the previous inventive array of names: in Dublin, The Sots Hole in Essex Street, The Wandering Jew in Castle Street, Three Candlesticks in King Street, House of Blazes in Aston Quay, The Blue Leg in High Street, The Holy Lamb in Cornmarket and The Golden Sugar Loaf in Abbey Street are all long since defunct. Some pubs, such as The Bleeding Horse and The Brazen Head, kept both a family name and original title.

It seems to be that this has been pulled out of context (in some cases repeated-but-twisted almost word for word) to stretch the author's meaning to fit a simplified narrative as to how we came to have pubs called McDaid's, Tully's, Kehoe's or whatever, when in fact it appears to just mean the smaller signs that you can see directly over doors (or windows as in the example at the top of this piece) and that you still occasionally see on older pubs, such as the example here below.

This image combined with the actual wording of the legislation here I think you can see what was actually meant, as compared to what is often touted as the reason for those bigger signs.

 Names of licensed persons to be affixed to premises.

11. Every licensed person shall cause to be painted or fixed, and shall keep painted or fixed on the premises in respect of which his license is granted, in a conspicuous place and in such form and manner as the [licensing justices] may from time to time direct, his name, with the addition after the name of the word “licensed,” and of words sufficient, in the opinion of the said [justices] to express the business for which his license has been granted, and in particular of words expressing whether the license authorises the sale of intoxicating liquor to be consumed on or off the premises only, as the case may be; and no person shall have any words or letters on his premises importing that he is authorised as a licensed person to sell any intoxicating liquor which he is not in fact duly authorised to sell. Every person who acts in contravention of the provisions of this section shall be liable to a penalty not exceeding for the first offence ten pounds, and not exceeding for the second and any subsequent offence twenty pounds.

The actual legislation dates back at least a few decades before this as a similar if more detailed version appears in The Excise Licences Act of 1825. Part 25 states in full:

25. All and every person or persons in the United Kingdom, required by any law or laws of excise to make entry of his, her, or their premises, in order to exercise or carry on therein any trade or business, for which an excise licence is required and who shall have taken out such licence, shall paint or cause to be painted, or shall place and fix in letters publicly visible and legible, and at least one inch long, in and upon his, her, or their entered premises, his, her, or their names respectively at full length (or where there are partners or more than one person engaged in carrying on jointly the same trade or business, the name or style of the firm or partnership), and after such name or names the word “licensed” adding thereto the words necessary to express the purpose or trade or business for which such licence has been granted; and such person or persons shall cause such letters to be painted or placed, and fixed in some conspicuous place on the outside of the front of his, her, or their said premises, over the principal outward door or gate, or entrance door thereto, and not more than three feet from the top of such outward door or gate, or entrance door; and if any such person or persons as aforesaid shall not paint or place and fix such letters as aforesaid, or shall not preserve and keep the same so painted, placed, and fixed, or shall not repaint or renew the same as often as necessity shall require, for the purpose of keeping the same in good order and condition during the continuance of his, her, or their licence, he, she, or they shall forfeit for every such offence the sum of twenty pounds; and if any person or persons not being licensed to exercise or carry on any trade or business for which a licence is required by this Act shall put or have any such letters as aforesaid upon his, her, or their premises, or any letters importing that he, she, or they does or do exercise or carry on any such trade or business, or is or are licensed so to do, all and every such person or persons shall for every such offence forfeit the sum of twenty pounds.

A much more detailed set of instructions as can be seen, even down to the minimum letter height.

-o-

Another error sometimes repeated is that this was just an piece of Irish legislation. It wasn't as we can see above, the later passages is still in the British records, although the words 'Commissioners of Inland Revenue' was changed to 'Justices' in Ireland at a later date - 1874 I believe. We don't see the same 'forced' name changes over there when they had the same law, so I think there were other more complex reasons for the appearance of these name signs and I believe that this 'Irish Pub Look' comes about because of a number of factors.

Firstly, the older names such as 'The Yellow Dragon' and 'King's Arms' were predominately used for the coaching inns in this country, especially in the smaller towns that were dotted along the coach roads between major cities. Many of these names died out with the coming of the railroads which caused many inns to close or become repurposed, as can be witnessed in my home town - and I'd imagine many others too. That is probably why we see more of these types of names, versus surnamed properties, even to this day in the larger, busier towns and cities where these businesses survived, or on old rural established properties that operated as inns for longer than those in towns and that date back centuries.

Secondly, because of this change, what remained of course, along with public houses, were the spirit grocers. These were effectively food provision shops that also sold alcohol - or perhaps vice-versa - which was supposedly for drinking off of the premises, although this wasn't strictly enforced from what I've read! These businesses by and large didn't have these older names and signage and instead relied upon the the name of the proprietor when being discussed or mentioned, and it is these establishments that eventually and effectively morphed into many of the well-known the pubs we know today - so they simply never had other inn-like names to begin with.

Another reason for change probably came because of pride, with the new owners of businesses wanting to put their names over their doors. In Britain many of the pubs were brewery owned - something that was quite limited in Ireland - so therefore the landlord or landlady could not - or would not - do the same, which might also go a certain way towards explaining the divergence in naming rituals.

Of course it is also more than possible that either the proprietors or those in charge of the enforcement misunderstood the legislation and believed that the bigger signs were needed, as per the line in the wording that says, ' ...such form and manner as the [licensing justices] may from time to time direct ...' and if one establishment did it then there may have been a copycat approach throughout an area. This is borne out in an write-up in the Ballinrobe Chronicle and Mayo Advertiser of the 19th of February 1876, where the licencing justices issued their own further directions and clarification to public houses of the, albeit with equally vague wording, some based on the earlier1825 legislation perhaps, where they direct that:

... the full name of every person person licenced to sell wine, spirits, beer, ale, or cider by retail, to be drunk or consumed on the I premises where sold, within the said County and Division, which is required by the said provisions to be painted or fixed on the premises in respect of which his license is granted: and also the following words to express the business for which his license has been granted - namely, "Licensed for the sale of wine, spirits and Beer for Consumption on the Premises," shall be in Roman Capital letters, or other distinct form of letters, not less than one inch in height and three quarters of an inch in breadth, In a back ground so different in colour as to be easily read by persons passing by, and be on the front over and close to the top of the principal door or entrance to his said premises, and as as to be distinctly seen by a person entering the said door or entrance.

The more you read the more that certain phrasing comes down to interpretation to a huge degree, perhaps giving a little credence to the belief that the name needed to be bigger than the licensing wording...

Lastly there was probably a degree of 'Anti-English' bias towards certain names with a strong royal or British connection that some of the more independence-minded owners didn't want associated with their businesses. So a simple way of showing their allegiance was ditching a name like 'The Red Duke' and calling the pub 'James P. Murphy' for example.

So that's my take on it - I believe that these reasons are why we ended up with surnamed pubs in Ireland, not one cause but a multitude. Perhaps - and probably - the legislation acted as a catalyst for change but only in that nameboards suddenly appeared on liquor sellers' storefronts, as they could  then achieve two things - advertise their business and be in line with that legislation in one fell swoop.

But they could also - and did in some cases - keep their old tavern or inn name and just put the required sign up over the door in small writing, there wasn't a need for this sudden change that appears to be implied by the above mentioned headlines and comments. Real proof that it wasn't 'forced' is how many pubs to this day still carry an old non-personal name not a family name, although in fairness in some cases they carry both.

Personally I'm a little sad we have lost this older way of naming pubs, which was based on a sign that those who could not read could identify. It gives me an unexplainable sense of nostalgia to be drinking in such places. In my home town we lost names like The Sheaf of Wheat, The Green Dragon, The Yellow Lion, The Harp, The Beehive and many more - although I can still drink in The Plough which is as far as I know the last of the drinking and sleeping establishments to still carry its pre-twentieth century name ... and its hanging sign.

Liam

1) I haven't chased up when this law was changed or removed, I don't think it ever was and I think is just ignored now and replaced with other checks and records.

2) I may have missed further legislation 'forcing' the use of surnames, I did put out a call on Twitter but didn't receive any additional information - yet!

(All written content, images and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its source and a link back to this post. Images via Dublin City Library's Digital Repository)