III. The Awakening

The last movement erupts in an outcry of despair, derived from Exx. 6 and 9.

Ex. 24

A few bars of an upward-striving theme in the basses leads to a repetition of Ex. 10, and a plaintive dialogue between the flute and oboe.

Ex. 25

The music continues with variants of Exx. 3 and 4 from the first movement. As it continues, we hear Barbarossa’s theme in a drawn-out augmentation on the muted trumpets. The mountain theme, Ex. 17, reappears, now in a martial 4/4 time, as the trumpet-calls draw nearer. The volume of sound swells and the mountain theme increasingly dominates, as if the rocks of the Kyffhäuser were splitting asunder. At length, poised on a French 6th, the music comes to an expectant halt.

After a brief silence, over the roll of two snare drums, Barbarossa’s theme resounds in C major on all four trumpets; the long-awaited deliverer is here! Barbarossa’s theme is immediately taken up by the entire orchestra, as if to depict him and his knights ready for battle. This episode completes the slow introduction to the movement. The faster section begins with Barbarossa’s theme, now transformed into brisk C major march, with a flick of B major in its tail. (Ex. 26)

Ex. 26

The march picks up, in the manner of a quick-step, till Exx. 9 and 10 reappear, roiling in the conflict. Barbarossa’s theme becomes more prominent as the conflict deepens. At its peak, Ex. 20 returns fff in an expansive 3/2 version in C major, as if signaling the emperor’s triumph. The bass instruments play a figure derived from the mountain theme:

Ex. 27

In a calmer E major section Exx. 4 and 5 recur, with divisi strings and harp figuring prominently as if the pastoral Eden were now restored. This leads to a further variation of Ex. 20, played on the strings with gently descending woodwind triplets, all phrased legato. A more festive version of Barbarossa’s march ensues, its colors lightened with the use of higher woodwinds, harp and triangle until, as if in a gesture of thanksgiving, Exx. 1 and 2 appear in a majestic 3/2 time. Note the accompanying figurations, derived from Ex. 5. (Ex. 28)

Ex. 28

After these themes are fully expanded, Barbarossa’s march makes its last bow in a serene C major, like a solemn procession, climaxing in his main theme fff over a descending bass line. The concluding bars use a reprise of Ex. 27, in Nöe’s words “rising up as if to swear an oath”.

Ex. 29

And with that victorious gesture, ends a splendid symphonic poem.

Barbarossa was Hausegger’s most popular work in his younger days, not only making the rounds to enthusiastic reviews throughout Germany, but also being performed in England and, in the US, in Chicago and New York. Upon hearing the work, the American writer Arthur Elson wrote “If not yet the equal of Strauss in variety and power, Hausegger has certainly surpassed him in direct loveliness.” His enthusiasm is easy to understand; the music is vigorous and attractive with great immediate appeal. The themes are, as Mahler would urge “clear and flexible; instantly recognizable in every transformation”. (An overeager article by Arthur Seidl had the battle music portraying the entire military arsenal, including cannons; pretty good for a commander who died in 1190.) After hearing a performance, the usually critical composer Alexander Zemlinsky described Hausegger as “a highly talented fellow”.

Its program, alas, makes uncomfortable reading now. Germany was all too successful finding a leader in its time of need and The Awakening is apt to recall the National Socialist slogan “Deutschland Erwache!” Like M. P. Shiel’s 1895 story The SS, Barbarossa became a truly dangerous vision. You’d think such a work would have been a concert staple in the Third Reich, but it wasn’t. Part of this was no doubt due to the increasing disesteem in which the regime held von Hausegger. Also, in a 1917 article, he’d drawn a clear line between national and patriotic art, deeming the latter not only inferior, but the gateway to amateurism. Not sentiments to conjure with during the Third Reich.

Though the beauty and grandeur of the music remain, its program is still a hot potato which will limit its appeal. (Obviously, a work called Barbarossa will never be played live in Russia, for the same reason that Yuengling’s Black and Tan beer wouldn’t sell in Ireland.) In the first American performance of a Hausegger work since before WW I, Leon Botstein conducted The Magic Mountain movement on August 22, 1992 at the Bard College Summerfest. Logically enough, it was part of a series entitled “Richard Strauss and His World”.

Dr. Wilhelm Zentner, in a 1947 article hailing Hausegger’s 75th birthday, noted “It would be false to impute (to Barbarossa) certain political tendencies.” He means of the National Socialist era, but in Hausegger’s own words, the work did arise from “political tendencies” - of the 1890s. I term Hausegger a pan-German symphonist - note the lower-case “pan”- exactly because, though an Austrian, he did plainly identify with a broader German musical culture. Back then, Austrian, German and even Swiss-German composers tended to regard themselves as the continuation of the great tradition from Bach, Mozart and Beethoven on down. With all their world-class masters, it’s easy to understand why they thought this tradition to be the world’s meter-stick.

At the same time, one can scarcely blame Hausegger for the overtones of a piece written when Hitler was nine years old. I agree with Zentner, when he writes “…when you connect (Barbarossa) to the political events of our day, you rob the work of its essence - The Romance of Far-off Times”.