Analysis: why is there so little known about this influential collector and promoter of traditional Irish music?
There's a tombstone tucked away behind a tall hedge in Dublin's Glasnevin cemetery, a stone's throw from the graves of Cathal Brugha and Countess Markievicz. The inscription, hidden behind the leaves, reads "Oibrí do sháraithe ar son ceoil ár sinsear" (Indefatigable worker for the music of our ancestors) and, underneath that, "he made our old songs live again".
This is the grave of Carl Hardebeck, nicknamed the Blind Bard of Belfast, an important figure in the Irish Cultural Revival and an influential collector and promoter of traditional Irish music. So who was this composer? What earned him his place among the heroes of Irish independence? And apart from naming a road in Walkinstown in Dublin after him, why has his name become shrouded, both on his tombstone and in Irish history?
From Áras Uí Chonghaile, Eugene Dunphy tells the story of Carl Hardebeck who has largely been forgotten in Irish history
Born in London in 1869 to a German father and a Welsh mother, Hardebeck enrolled in the Royal Normal College for the Blind in Norwood at 10 years of age and later studied with composer Frederick Corder of the Royal Academy of Music in London. He moved to Belfast in 1893 to set up a music shop with money his father had earned as an investor. After an unsuccessful few years, he closed the shop to become a full-time teacher and organist.
It was around this time that Hardebeck began learning the Irish language from books such as The Poets and Poetry of Munster. Hardebeck joined the Gaelic League and it was at one of their events in Belfast that Hardebeck heard traditional Irish singing for the first time. "It was so delightful and I was so enchanted by the flow, the rhythm, the rise and fall of the melody and above all the simplicity and character of this music that I decided to leave all and follow it."
Hardebeck travelled around the Gaeltacht regions of Ireland, including some that have now faded such as the Glens of Antrim, meeting with locals and gathering their songs. While listening, he jotted down the tunes by punching holes on a sheet of cardboard using a system of braille he created specifically for this purpose. His system for dictating the lyrics was later adopted by the Irish Association for the Blind as the official braille type for the Irish language. He became a regular fixture as an accompanist at Irish traditional music festivals, and set up a club in a music room on Belfast's Falls Road where musicians could gather for a weekly seisiún ceoil.
We need your consent to load this rte-player contentWe use rte-player to manage extra content that can set cookies on your device and collect data about your activity. Please review their details and accept them to load the content.Manage Preferences
Ó RTÉ Raidió na Gaeltachta's Siúlach Scéalach, Seán Ó Baoill ag cur síos ar an aithne a bhí aige ar Carl Hardebeck
Hardebeck was discouraged by the public’s lack of interest or knowledge around Irish traditional music, which he called ‘the soul of Ireland,’ making it his mission to publish the songs which he had collected in sheet music collections. Publishers at the time were sceptical of the profitability of Irish folk music, leading Hardebeck to publish many works himself. His collections entitled Seoda Ceoil allowed for many traditional songs, such as Úna Bhán, to be heard outside of the Gaeltacht for the first time.
He was the first to publish Irish songs with the Irish language and notation together, as earlier editions used translations or provided lyrics on a separate page. Hardebeck understood the intrinsic link between the text and the music, and insisted on printing the two together.
Alongside his commitment to bringing traditional music to concert halls, Hardebeck was also a strong advocate for its inclusion in the primary school syllabus. He endorsed the playing of tin whistle in Irish classrooms, both for its educational and cultural benefits, and for its cost-efficiency. Traditional music in the classroom could be "a tremendous force in the revival of our national tunes", he believed, echoing the school-centred approach to folk music revival led by other European composers at the time, such as Zoltán Kodály in Hungary.
We need your consent to load this rte-player contentWe use rte-player to manage extra content that can set cookies on your device and collect data about your activity. Please review their details and accept them to load the content.Manage Preferences
From RTÉ Archives, soprano Maire Ni Seolaidhe 'Sal Óg Rua' which was a traditional arrangement by Carl Hardebeck
Following Belfast's Bloody Sunday in 1921, the First World War and the Irish Civil War, Hardebeck became an ardent Irish nationalist, coining the phrase, ‘I believe in God, Beethoven and Patrick Pearse.’. He received commissions from Pearse to set several tunes to music, including Róisín Dubh. In a display of solidarity with the Irish rebels, he played Amhrán na bhFiann at the organ as the congregation of St Peter’s in Belfast left the church on the Sunday after the 1916 Easter Rising.
Despite the deep respect and esteem of his colleagues in traditional music circles, Hardebeck faced many hardships during his time in Ireland. He struggled financially, investing the money he earned as an organist and tutor into his publications. He also faced strong anti-German attitudes in the aftermath of the First World War. When he first arrived in Cork in 1919, he required a police escort due to protests against his appointment at the School of Music.
Perhaps Hardebeck's German heritage is the reason why his contribution to Irish music has not received the same attention as the likes of Seán Ó Riada, or perhaps the limited success of his self-published collections is the cause for this collective amnesia. Nevertheless, his example of holding Irish traditional music in the same regard as classical music, and highlighting education as a cornerstone of cultural safeguarding, has inspired generations of composers and music educators in Ireland, earning him his place among the heroes of Irish cultural history.
The views expressed here are those of the author and do not represent or reflect the views of RTÉ
