An archbishop’s will, a garden in Tipperary, and the palace hotel where the whole thing started. Plus: a flute orchestra, the world’s most guarded stud farm, and the Michelin star that came back after.

My oldest friend, whom I met when we were nine, was from Dublin and horse-crazy. Every girl of a certain era was a little horse-crazy — Black Beauty did its work, National Velvet finished the job — but hers was the real condition, the kind no book gives you and no adulthood takes away. Because of her, I have spent my whole life associating the island of Ireland with horses, long before I could have told you where Tipperary was or why anyone would sing about it.

So when I tell you I’ve found a story that ties the horses to the stout, understand that this one was written for me. It’s also, as it happens, the prequel to House of Guinness — the Netflix series from Steven Knight, the creator of Peaky Blinders, and entirely worth your watch. That show opens in 1868 with the dynasty already an empire and the heirs circling the will. This story is about the other will, the one from more than a century earlier, without which there is no empire, no heirs, and nothing to circle.

In 1752, the Church of Ireland Archbishop of Cashel, one Arthur Price, died and left £100 to his godson. Price had climbed to the post through his father’s friendship with William Conolly, the great political fixer of Georgian Ireland, and along the way he had bought a malthouse in Celbridge and put his land steward — Richard Guinness, the godson’s father — in charge of producing what was remembered as a brew of a very palatable nature. The will, though, was never signed. Price was seized suddenly by his final illness and died before he could execute it; his executors swore the unsigned pages into effect anyway. Buried in them: £100 apiece to Richard and to his son Arthur, each described not as family friend or godson but as the archbishop’s servant. That hundred pounds became the seed capital for the most famous stout on earth.

Here’s the irony: the will that financed Guinness was written by the man who destroyed the medieval castle at Cashel. Restoration was already underway when Price arrived. Experts said the 12th-century keep could be re-roofed. Price said it couldn’t. He had it gutted instead. His memory at Cashel is not held in high esteem. (Hmm, remind you of anyone?)

But the gardens—designed with the Rock of Cashel as their organizing principle—survived. So did the mulberry trees planted in 1702 during the Queen Anne era, when someone thought silkworms might actually flourish in Ireland. They didn’t. The trees did. Hops still grow where Richard Guinness once brewed for the archbishop’s table.

The renowned Rock of Cashel itself sits at the foot of a limestone outcrop that rises from the Golden Vale. In the 1130s, Cormac McCarthy—king of Munster—built a stone fortress there. It became the seat of the kings of Munster, and legend says St. Patrick once baptized a king on that rock. (The king, named Aengus, took a knife to the foot with such equanimity that he assumed the blade work was part of the ceremony. That’s one reading of faith.) The McCarthy family ruled from the Rock for centuries. Their descendants built Blarney Castle—the one with the famous kissing stone that you do a backbend to kiss—and from there learned the art of talking their way out of trouble. Queen Elizabeth I supposedly coined the term “blarney” after one of them stalled her demands with endless flattery.

So you have two stones: one a throne, one a party trick.

The hotel that now occupies the palace grounds—Cashel Palace, a 1732 Palladian house—was acquired in 2016 by Susan Magnier. Her father was Vincent O’Brien, a legendary horse trainer who had owned the property before her. When Susan bought it back from closure, it wasn’t a millionaire acquiring a trophy. It was a daughter reclaiming her father’s house. Between 2017 and 2022, she oversaw a comprehensive restoration with London designer Emma Pearson handling interiors and landscape architect Del Buono Gazzarowitz shaping the grounds. The result is an old country estate done right: red brick front, limestone back, Venetian windows, and a harp—Ireland’s symbol—marked in crowned relief throughout.

The Bishop’s Walk is the path that connects the hotel grounds to the Rock—the same route the palace’s bishops walked for two centuries. At sunset, the light along that walk is supposedly something worth anticipating. You’re climbing toward the ruin the way its owners did, from below upward, from home to throne.

The gardens hold 1702 mulberry trees—Queen Anne’s failed silkworm gamble, now three centuries old. The art is antique and heavily weighted toward horses. There’s a spa, fishing, kayaking, and outdoor bathtubs built for two. (Wouldn’t an outdoor bath in an iron-wrought tub be delicious?)

Past guests have included Jackie Kennedy, Richard Burton, Elizabeth Taylor, Ronald Reagan, and Princess Diana. And their names are inscribed on the walls of the Guinness bar.

But the real draw is the Equine Concierge. It arranges time at Coolmore Stud, the most consequential thoroughbred operation in the world and about as easy to walk into as Fort Knox. That is, unless the Magnier family owns your hotel. Coolmore stallions sired eleven of the fifteen Epsom Derby winners between 1998 and 2012 — an equine dynasty John Magnier built the way archbishops once built cathedrals, one bloodline at a time. The horses you’ll meet there aren’t on any public registry.

The Bishop’s Buttery sits in the vaulted cellars where the palace kitchens used to be. Declan Ryan managed the property in 1980 and 1981. Ryan had trained in France at Michelin-starred restaurants and came back to Ireland as part of the first generation of Irish chefs applying French techniques to Irish ingredients—a movement that eventually became the Slow Food movement now flourishing across the island. The hotel earned its Michelin stars in 1982 and 1983 under his direction. Then he left food entirely and became a baker.

The stars disappeared from Cashel for forty years. They returned in 2024 under new direction—Stephen Hayes on culinary, Stefan McEnteer as head chef. A star regained after four decades is a better story than one awarded.

Ireland’s racing dynasties have spent the last decade turning their country estates into resort destinations. J.P. McManus rebuilt Adare Manor in Limerick, which will host the 2027 Ryder Cup. The Magniers rebuilt Cashel Palace. Michelin called Tipperary a “new must stay.” The luxury infrastructure has followed the horses inland, away from Dublin. And away from the algorithm-approved itineraries.

Most American travelers treat Tipperary as a windshield view between Dublin and Kerry — ninety minutes of green blur on the way to somewhere else. Meanwhile, from the Bishop’s Walk, before the coach tours arrive at the Rock, you can hear a flute orchestra, meet a Derby winner’s neighbors, eat a starred dinner in an eighteenth-century cellar, and sleep upstairs from the garden that financed Guinness.

The old song (a fav of mine) insists it’s a long way to Tipperary. It’s two hours from Dublin, one from Cork, and the only long way left is the century everyone has spent driving past it. Give it at least three nights.

Frequently Asked Questions

What is the connection between Cashel Palace and Guinness?
Richard Guinness, land steward to Archbishop Arthur Price, brewed for the archbishop’s table at Price’s malthouse in Celbridge. When Price died in 1752, his unsigned will (executed anyway by his executors) left £100 apiece to Richard and his son Arthur — the seed capital that became the Guinness stout empire.

Is this related to the Netflix show House of Guinness?
Yes. House of Guinness opens in 1868 with the Guinness dynasty already established and the heirs circling the will. This is the earlier will — the one without which there’s no empire, no heirs, and nothing to circle.

Who owns Cashel Palace now?
Susan Magnier, daughter of legendary horse trainer Vincent O’Brien, who once owned the property himself. She bought it back from closure in 2016 and oversaw a restoration from 2017 to 2022 with designer Emma Pearson and landscape architects Del Buono Gazzarowitz.

What is the Equine Concierge at Cashel Palace?
A hotel service that arranges access to Coolmore Stud, the Magnier family’s thoroughbred operation and one of the most consequential breeding programs in the world. Coolmore stallions sired eleven of the fifteen Epsom Derby winners between 1998 and 2012.

What is the Rock of Cashel?
A limestone outcrop in the Golden Vale where Cormac McCarthy, king of Munster, built a fortress in the 1130s. It served as the seat of the kings of Munster, and legend holds that St. Patrick baptized a king there. The Bishop’s Walk connects the Cashel Palace grounds directly to it.

Does Cashel Palace have a Michelin-starred restaurant?
Yes — the Bishop’s Buttery, in the palace’s original vaulted kitchens. The hotel earned stars in 1982 and 1983 under chef Declan Ryan, lost them for four decades, and regained a star in 2024 under Stephen Hayes and head chef Stefan McEnteer.

How far is Cashel from Dublin?
About two hours by car, and roughly one hour from Cork — closer than most travelers assume, given how often Tipperary gets treated as a drive-through on the way to somewhere else.

How many nights should I plan to stay?
At least three, to allow time for the Bishop’s Walk, the Rock of Cashel, the gardens and their 1702 mulberry trees, and a visit through the Equine Concierge.

If this is your first pass at Ireland, I’ve got a broader starting point in 3 Must-Have Experiences When Traveling to Ireland.