THE centenary of the 1916 Rising is not until 2016, and yet Mealy and James Adam auctioneers are jumping the gun by holding a joint 90th anniversary sale this Easter of documents of historical importance charting Ireland's struggle for independence and publicising it more than two months ahead of the sale.
The items span the period from 1798 right through to the British government's telegram announcing the declaration of the Irish free state . . . including Michael Collins's typewriter, a tricolour believed to have flown over the GPO during the 1916 Rising, collections of Padraig Pearse letters and poetry, and final letters from key figures such as Sean McDermott and Thomas Clarke before their execution.
There are also original architects' watercolour drawings of the elevations of the GPO building.
Fuelling the flames of publicity surrounding the sale is its highlight . . . the original copy of the words and music of 'The Soldier's Song', handwritten by Peadar Kearney in 1907, formally adopted as Ireland's national anthem in 1926 and estimated to fetch 800,000. This raises two issues. Should the State be persuaded to buy it, and why should it have an estimate of 800,000?
Dr David Craig, director of the National archives, is just one contender who might purchase items at this sale, but he is not rushing into it. "I have all of March to think about whether to buy anything or not, " he says. "Anyway, we wouldn't be the most likely institution to go after the anthem. We are more inclined to be interested in something if it had some very direct official connection . . .
for example, if the anthem manuscript had been in official custody.
"As a holder of manuscripts of a private rather than an official nature the National Library would be more of a contender for an item like this than we would be. We stand back when an item is not of an official nature."
Craig points out that institutions such as the National Library, the national archives, and the Museum of Modern art talk to each other and thus wouldn't find themselves bidding against each other at auction. When he hears that the original copy of the national anthem at this sale has an estimate of 800,000 1.2m, he is astounded.
"I wouldn't dream of paying that kind of money. It would have to be truly extraordinarily important. That's putting it up to or ahead of a Joyce manuscript. If that is what collectors are prepared to pay, it makes it difficult for institutions. One would have to justify that kind of money."
Craig says that even if he were bidding he would hardly declare his hand publicly, a factor that might even further push up the price.
His colleague, Dr Donal O'Lunaigh, over at the National Library, says he won't make any comment at all on the matter.
Stuart Cole at James Adam is confident that 800,000 is an achievable price, saying that Irish-American collectors would even consider it a bit low.
He asks whether one would prefer to have an original copy of the national anthem or a picture of a Dutch aristocrat with his horse. He believes that it puts things into perspective when you consider that the National Gallery through State funding from the Heritage Fund recently acquired a painting by Dutch artist Cuyp at a Sotheby sale for 1.9.
Cole is aware that you can't really put a price on the poignancy that surrounds 1916 and the emotive issues that it raises. But there were practical market guidelines to follow, too. For instance, Adam's recently sold a handwritten letter by Padraig Pearse for 700,000 which had an estimate of 50,000 70,000.
Whatever price the song achieves, it certainly comes with an impeccable provenance, having been vouched for by Peadar Kearney's nephew, Seamus De Burca (who himself wrote a book about the National Anthem in 1956), and having been passed down through different owners at the Abbey Theatre until it finally rested with Micheal O hAodha, who eventually sold it to a private collector. In the heel of the hunt, the vendor is partly involved in establishing an estimate.
There's no doubt that people differ in what they consider important from 1916.
And there is no doubt that there can be nothing more emotive than the sentiments expressed in the letters from Sean McDermott and Thomas Clarke on the eve of their executions. But surely the telegram from the Duke of Devonshire, Secretary of State for the Colonies, informing the Irish Secretary of State that the King had agreed to give Ireland independence must have been a momentous event and proof that all the executions and banishments were not in vain. And yet the telegram has an estimate of just 10,000- 12,000. Should the State not buy this, too?
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