Only very cool conservators get to work on the conservation equivalent of CSI. Yes, it’s fun to wear white coats, flash the ultraviolet light around and talk abut acidity (for us, anyhow!), but the reality of preserving our paper heritage collections is somewhat more mundane. That is until we must deal with LOTS of mould. Then things become somewhat more exciting!


Preservation of the Pearse Papers, funded by the Heritage Council, was recently completed. Conservation student volunteer Valentina Giunta, from Tor Vergata University in Rome, worked on re-housing and surface-cleaning the collection.

 Conservation student volunteer, Valentina Giunta, re-housing the Pearse Papers collection


Re-housing the papers was essential to their preservation. Normal stationery supplies are not suitable for long-term storage. They are made from wood-pulp paper that will very quickly turn acidic, creating an acidic ‘micro-climate’. The manuscripts in these folders can absorb the acids, speeding up their degradation. The new grey folders are acid-free, lignin-free and with an alkaline buffer for ‘permanent’ storage. While the new folders may not seem very exciting, they will actively protect the items from degrading.

Spot the difference-new and old folders


A condition assessment found that many papers are mould-damaged. This has resulted in extreme discolouration, ink damage and embrittlement. Some of these sheets are very fragile and cannot be handled safely. The mould and water damage has even resulted in the cementing together of each sheet in one booklet from Cumann na Poblachta (a precursor to Fianna Fáil political party) signed by Margaret Pearse in 1922.

Mould & water damage has resulted in cementing together of each sheet in this booklet from Cumman na Poblachta Mould & water damage has resulted in the cementing together of each sheet in this booklet from Cumann na Poblachta


Prior to re-housing, these mould damaged items have been isolated for treatment. The Next step is to plan the conservation treatment of over 450 sheets, which will be undertaken this summer. This will involve solubility testing of all inks, photographic documentation and lots of scratching of heads while we decide how to deactivate mould spores and strengthen and repair all the papers. Stay tuned for more updates on the project this summer.  Now to where did I leave my ultraviolet light…

This letter is severly damaged by mould causing extreme discolouration ink damage and embrittlement Letter severely damaged by mould causing extreme discolouration, ink damage, and embrittlement


Blog written by Louise O’Connor, a Conservator at the National Library of Ireland.





Eugene Lemercier Eugène Lemercier, 1914


French painter Eugène Emmanuel Lemercier is not remembered primarily for his artistic work. Rather, his name evokes the vibrant correspondence he sent from the western front to his beloved mother in Paris, between August 1914 and his death in April 1915.

This unique collection of wartime correspondence is preserved in the National Library of Ireland and available for the first time for consultation on the Library’s website: See

Eugène Lemercier’s grandmother was the Dublin-born portrait painter Harriet Osborne O’Hagan, who settled in Paris in the late 1860s. Her daughter, Marguerite O’Hagan, also became a painter. Her husband Eugène-Augustin Lemercier died before the birth of their son, Eugène, in Paris in 1886.

At fifteen Eugène entered the prestigious Ecole des Beaux-Arts to train as a painter. His studies were interrupted in 1906 by his military service in Chalons-sur-Marne, west of Paris, where he joined the 106th regiment of infantry. All young men in France had to do a two-year period of compulsory military training. As there were dispensations for higher education students, Eugène’s military service only lasted a year.

Between 1906 and 1914 he won several government prizes for his paintings, including ‘La Contemplation’. Eugène was starting on his next painting when he was drafted into the French army at the outbreak of the First World War in August 1914.

La Contemplation Study for ‘Contemplation’, NGI. 1172 Eugène Emmanuel Lemercier.


From 4 August 1914 until 6 April 1915, Eugène Lemercier wrote to his mother Marguerite nearly every day, sometimes several times a day. He also corresponded with his grandmother and, at least during the first few months of the war, to a network of other faithful friends.

Between September and October, while thrown into what he called ‘the zone of the horrors’, no correspondence reached him and he confided in a small diary. Lermercier’s writings, preserved in the National Library of Ireland, constitute the testimony of a witness of the Great War.

Front page of Lemercier notebook. Front page of Eugène Lemercier’s notebook


Eugène’s first letters were sent from the administrative depot of his regiment in Chalons-sur-Marne, where soldiers were waiting to be sent to the western front.  In September he was stationed south of Verdun, at Les Éparges

Very soon Lemercier became part of the military roster, usually following a nine days rotation system. The first three days were spent at the front line, be it in the trenches or the mine galleries. The next three days were spent at the second line, in the woods; finally, the last three days of the roster were spent resting, billeted within the local civilian population.

Lemercier wrote about the war as he saw and felt it. He poured out his soul entirely to his mother, who became his sole reason to survive. He often discussed art works, books, religion and music with her in his letters. He described the landscapes as well – so the flow of the correspondence feels like a conversation with a close friend.

Lemercier gave details of his daily life: how soldiers exchanged clothing and what the chores were. He mentioned his companions and superiors, sometimes praising their courage and kindness, sometimes feeling incapable of communicating with them. He also described the sufferings of civilians.

He conveyed the horrors around him in a simple and evocative language: the smell of decomposing corpses, the bayonet attacks, the muddy trenches, the cruel lack of sleep. But beyond the factual account of the war, also emerges the sensibility of a man that was completely unprepared for the terror of conflict. He even described his very first battle saying that he felt more like a ‘war correspondent’ at that point. He wrote poetry, often in the form of prayers. The other thread that runs through all this correspondence is his closeness to and boundless love for his mother – writing freely to her was his lifeline. His writings provide an insight into the coping mechanisms soldiers developed. His insight and literary skill make his a fascinating account that offers many avenues of research. While his letters echo some of the themes brought up in other war writings, his individual experience, as an artist and a man versed in philosophy, sets him apart.

In April 1915, Les Éparges was the scene of one of the fiercest battles of the war. Eugène Lemercier disappeared during the course of the battle, on 6 April 1915. His body was never recovered.

Perhaps the most striking feature of Lemercier’s letters is the hope of what was to come after the war, what lesson could be learnt. He expressed his vision of the ‘United-States of Europe’ that would rise in the aftermath of the war, an idea that was taken up by French foreign minister Aristide Briand and Winston Churchill. Lemercier’s wisdom is timeless – though it was also very specific in coming to terms with the problems that Europe faced at the time – and demonstrates his uncommon generosity of spirit. His words are relevant to all facing uncertainty, and will resonate for a long time to come: ‘Let us eat and drink to all that is eternal for tomorrow we die to all that is human’.

Lemercier Postcard Postcard from Eugène Lemercier to his mother, Marguerite, 3 Sept. 1914


Dr Marie Leoutre is the Research Student in the Dept. of Manuscripts at the National Library of Ireland

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  The DIB in all its 9 volume glory.

The Dictionary of Irish Biography (the DIB), published in nine volumes and online in 2009, is a work of truly historic significance. The model for all books of this kind, the old British Dictionary of National Biography (the DNB), appeared in instalments between 1885 and 1900 – and was not superseded until 2004, when the new Oxford DNB appeared. I expect that the DIB will likewise last for at least the next 100 years. Certainly, it will still be consulted long after we have forgotten most other works of Irish scholarship now in print – and its influence will extend to every field of Irish studies.

 In a wider cultural perspective, the DIB represents a powerful statement of Irish identity – on a par with our language, our flag, our stamps and the harp on our euro coins. When the original DNB was published at the end of the 19th century, it included entries pertaining to Ireland. This was indicative of the mindset of the British establishment at that time. The Irish were part of the United Kingdom, albeit with their own distinctive tradition, like the Scots and the Welsh. There was no place for Irish separatism – not even for home rule, which was then the dominant Irish nationalist aspiration. The old DNB reflected that paradigm. It should be noted that we have not yet escaped from the yoke of the DNB. The new Oxford DNB published in 2004 continues to claim the Irish. The reason is, quite simply, that Ireland is regarded as part of Britain’s colonial heritage. While we cannot deny this aspect of our history, it is not the full story – and it is not an appropriate focus after over 90 years of independent statehood. We need to define ourselves in our own terms, not those of others. It is important, therefore, that we should have our own national dictionary of biography – and now, at last, we have it.

Máire O'Neill (Molly Allgood), Actor. Máire O’Neill (Molly Allgood), actor, who has an entry in the DIB.


The original publication contained 9,014 signed biographical articles, and to be the subject of one of those articles one had to have made a mark in some field of human endeavour, to have died before the end of 2002 and to have been born in Ireland or had a significant part of one’s career in Ireland. The DIB is, however, a continuing project, and is regularly updated and extended online. A further 351 articles have been added since 2009, about three-quarters of which refer to persons who died between 2003 and 2007. The other additional articles are about persons who, though eligible for inclusion in the original publication, were inadvertently omitted. Two of the omissions thus rectified are Patrick Henchy, director of the National Library of Ireland from 1967 to 1976, and Ernest Forbes, the cartoonist ‘Shemus’ in the Freeman’s Journal, many of whose drawings for the Freeman are held by the National Library. Another is Rosie Hackett, whose name will be immortalised in the new bridge over the Liffey. Among those who died after 2002 and are now included are Charles Haughey and John McGahern. Unfortunately, there are no plans at present to issue the additional articles in book form.

A toast to Charles J. Haughey after topping the poll (1973)     A toast to Charles J. Haughey after topping the poll (1973). Charles Haughey, politician, who has an entry in the DIB.


Being included in the DIB – in print or online – is the ultimate proof that someone made it in Ireland. A similar distinction attaches to the many people who wrote the biographical articles, both those employed on the project and the various experts who, without monetary reward, were external contributors. The authors comprise a ‘who’s who’ of Irish scholarship today, and it occurs to me that part of the fun in editing the DIB must have been matching authors and subjects. Quite apart from the influence which the DIB will have as a work of reference, its influence will also be felt through the vital role it played in the professional formation of a generation of Irish historians. Many young historians, after post-graduate work, began their academic careers with a period of temporary employment on the DIB when the original publication was in preparation. Working on the DIB was a rite of passage for them. The high standards of research and writing which the DIB exemplifies will, accordingly, define Irish historical scholarship for many years to come.

 This is greatly to be welcomed. For too long, the study of Irish history has been compromised by political and cultural agendas which have nothing to do with understanding the past. The long-running arguments about Irish history between so-called revisionists, anti-revisionists and post-revisionists are frankly tedious, and the time has come to move on from them. We can surely all agree that the study of history is about doing our best, in good faith, to discover the truth about the past – however inspiring, uncomfortable or mundane. Do the research, and let the chips fall where they will. The past happened, and cannot be undone; it made us what we are, for good and ill; and we have a duty to rediscover it and understand it, and to do so without illusions.

There is, therefore, no place for hagiography in history, not even perhaps when someone has earned the formal title of saint – and few deserve the opposite, outright demonization. Figures in the past were human, just like us – flesh and blood, each a mixture of good and the not-so-good, each with talents and shortcomings, each with failures as well as achievements. We do nobody any favours by enlarging them beyond what they were in life, by turning them retrospectively into plaster saints. Our heroes are actually more attractive, and their lives have more meaning for us, when we pay them the compliment of seeing them as real human beings, in all their complexity. In Brian Friel’s play Making History, Hugh O’Neill implores his biographer, Archbishop Lombard, not to ‘embalm me in pieties’, but to ‘record the whole life’ – and that is an admirable injunction to all historians.

 Nowhere does the DIB fall into the trap of facile piety. It may be a statement of Irish identity, but it is a mature statement – not written in any spirit of national self-congratulation or with commemorative intent. It is instead grounded in a determination to find the truth, or at least ‘the best obtainable version of the truth’ (to quote Woodward and Bernstein, the Watergate journalists). Its aim is to record whole lives within the necessarily limited space allowed for each article. It seeks to understand and explain, not to judge. It is not God as He is sometimes depicted in images of The Last Day – with the virtuous on His right, the damned on His left. It is, in short, a work of scholarship. It provides a vital point of reference for anyone, anywhere in the world, who is interested in Ireland’s past – in the experience of the Irish people, both individually and collectively. It is a credit to its editors, James McGuire and James Quinn – and to the Royal Irish Academy, who sponsored it, and to the publishers, Cambridge University Press.

'The Reign of Terror' by Shemus (Ernest Forbes). ‘The Reign of Terror’ by Shemus (Ernest Forbes), cartoonist, who has an entry in the DIB.


*Felix M. Larkin is vice-chair of the NLI Society and a member of the NLI’s statutory Readers Advisory Committee. He was an external contributor to the Dictionary of Irish Biography.