It is difficult to think of a more frightening song than Franz Schubert’s “Erlkönig.” From the first of its relentless octaves until its brutal final cadence, its unceasing violence leaves listeners stunned in its wake, as though not quite aware of what has hit them. The poem is by Johann Wolfgang Goethe, and the plot is simple enough: A father is carrying his son on horseback; the son sees the Erlkönig beckoning to him, and, after trying in vain to warn his father, the child dies.
This is more than just a Halloween horror story, however. The Erlkönig speaks to the child three times, and over the course of these three statements there is a palpable change in character and intent, as the mask of seductive charm is dropped to reveal the addiction to desire and violence beneath. His three utterances are the anchor for the poem’s structure, and the development he undergoes makes him the most complete and interesting character of the three, relegating the other two to stereotypes: innocent victim and helpless onlooker. It is this depth that characterizes the Erlkönig as almost human and gives the song its entrancing power.
“Erlkönig” is much more disturbing than many other Schubert Lieder dealing with the supernatural and death. Consider, for example, “Der Tod und das Mädchen” (Death and the Maiden). A young girl does interact with a fantastic creature (in this case, Death himself), but his intentions differ completely from those of the Erlkönig. We sense from his way of addressing the girl that Death has no particular desire for her. Rather, it is time for her to die, and he is simply there to carry out his duty. He refers to her as schön (beautiful) and zart (delicate), but these words do not necessarily imply a personal connection to their object on the part of the speaker. When the girl dies, it seems natural—almost inevitable—and we are left satisfied (depicted musically by the change to the major mode).
On the other hand, there is nothing harmless or distant about the Erlkönig. The first two stanzas set the scene:
Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.
Who rides so late through night and wind?
It is the father with his child;
he has his arm about the boy,
he holds him safe, he keeps him warm.
“Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?”—
“Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?
Den Erlkönig mit Kron und Schweif?”—
“Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.”—
‘My son-why hide your face in such fear?’—
‘Father, the Erl-king, don’t you see?
The Erl-king in crown and robes?’—
‘My son, it is a streak of mist.’—
The Erlkönig first speaks to the boy with what the great German baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau called “Die Süße der Todesverlockung,” translating to “the sweetness of death’s seduction.” (Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, Franz Schubert und seine Lieder. Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt GmbH, Stuttgart, 1996, p. 49.)
“Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele spiel ich mit dir;
Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand.”
‘Dear child, come, come go with me,
wonderful games will I play with you;
many fair flowers are on the shore,
my mother has many a garment of gold.’
This is not the authoritative rhetoric used by the figure of death in Der Tod und das Mädchen, whose only wish is for the girl to give him her hand and go to her eternal sleep. The Erlkönig’s tone implies equality, and he addresses the boy as a companion (“geh mit mir”). His lines have a smooth rhythmic flow, as opposed to the galloping “Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?” with which the poem begins.
Even at this point, the latent desire of the Erlkönig towards the boy can be sensed. The intense, long vowels (“Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir”) have a lingering, seductive quality that is reinforced by the alliteration found in every line, usually in its center. The fact that the Erlkönig mentions his mother (and, later, his daughters) portrays him as more human, heightening his appeal. He also tries to sway the boy with tempting descriptions of landscape. Compare the details of the place where the father and son are riding (spoken by the narrator and father) with those of the place where the Erlkönig wants to take the boy:
Narrator/Father:
Nacht/night
Wind/wind
Nebelstreif/streak of mist
Dürren Blättern/barren leaves
Alte graue Weiden/old, gray willows
Erlkönig:
Bunte Blumen/colorful flowers
Strand/beach
Gülden Gewand/golden garment
The Erlkönig seems to be trying to coax the boy to a place filled with color (Blumen) and space (Strand) rather than the bleak (dürr) and vague (Nebel, Weide) place he now inhabits.
Schubert’s setting of the Erlkönig’s first statement captures both the surface charm of the title character and the base desire that lurks beneath. He first depicts this musically by the modulation from G minor to its relative major. Modal shifts from minor to major (or vice versa) are a hallmark of Schubert’s compositions, and in his Lieder often signify a polar contrast between moods or states of existence.
In this case, the “reality” of the father, boy, and horse (minor mode) changes to the “unreality” of the Erlkönig and his magical world (major mode). The unwavering major key and simple harmonic vocabulary (primarily I-V) of the Erlkönig’s first utterance paint a pleasant, even tempting picture. The melody contains smooth, triadic descents on the words “liebes Kind” and “geh mit mir” (mm. 58-61), and the rhythm consists of a hypnotic quarter/dotted-half motive beginning on the anacrusis and repeated five times. Even in the midst of this seemingly benign passage, however, the pulsing tonic pedal in the pianist’s left hand (mm. 58-61) seems to convey the latent desire of the Erlkönig. These octaves are combined with right-hand chords in a left-right-right/left-right-right 6/8 rhythmic pattern. The chords only murmur in the background, so understated that they become unsettling.
Changes in melodic contour, harmony, and rhythm highlight the sexually suggestive words “schöne Spiele” (“wonderful games,” mm. 62-3). A temporary harmonic retrogression to the dominant lightens the tone of the statement and makes it less forceful and demanding. The rhythmic motive evens out into two half-notes (m. 63), indicating greater sweetness. The descending triad is also abandoned, replaced by a delightfully unexpected ascent to the melody’s highest pitch, which occurs on the word “Spiele.”
The poem continues as the child warns his father in vain of the Erlkönig, who then speaks to him a second time:
“Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?”—
“Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;
In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind.”—
‘My father, my father, don’t you hear
what the Erl-king softly promises me?’—
‘Be quiet, stay quiet, my child;
the rustle it is of dry leaves in the wind.’—
“Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?
Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön;
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein.”
‘Will you, fine boy, come with me?
My daughters shall take good care of you;
my daughters lead our nightly dance,
they’ll rock and dance and sing you to sleep.’
During the Erlkönig’s second statement, both poetic and musical elements indicate increased urgency. Having only succeeded thus far in frightening the child, the Erlkönig must try a more direct approach. His utterances become faster, bouncier, and livelier, and he asks the pointed question, “Willst, feine Knabe, du mit mir gehn?” He attempts to draw the boy to him with the first-syllable stresses of “wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein,” and tries to dazzle him with the physical energy and shimmering consonants of such lines as “meine Töchter führen den Nächtlichen Reihn.” The child, however, is not able to accept the Erlkönig’s offer.
Compare this situation to that depicted in the Carl Loewe ballad Tom der Reimer (Tom the Rhymer). In this poem, the Elfenkönigin (Queen of the Elves) tempts Tom to cavort with her and kiss her, but warns him that in so doing, he commits to serving her for seven years. This is no problem for the adult and sexually mature Tom, who, apparently having no other obligations, accepts with pleasure (“zu dienen dir erschreckt mich kaum” [“to serve you hardly scares me”]). But the innocent child cannot be part of such relationships, and is only terrified further.
Schubert captures the escalating tension of this second statement in several ways. Most importantly, the rhythm of the melody contains shorter note values, thereby doubling its pacing; twice as much text is being sung per measure as in the first statement. The melody contains more leaps involving changes of direction (e.g. “mit mir gehn,” m. 88), giving it a misleading feeling of playfulness that masks the underlying urgency. The rhythm is more lively, intricate, and almost martial, reinforced by the repeated bass in the piano. It features a quarter-eighth-eighth motive that enhances the syllabic stress on “wiegen, und tanzen, und singen dich ein” (mm. 93-4).
Harmonically, this second statement is like the development of a sonata form. Whereas the first statement was harmonically stable, the second is set with a series of V7-I cadences in different keys.
After the child tries to warn his father once again, the Erlkönig speaks to him for the last time:
“Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort
Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort?”—
“Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh es genau:
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau.”—
‘My father, my father, don’t you see
the Erl-king’s daughters there in the gloom?’—
‘My son, my son, I see very well:
it is the old willows gleaming so gray.’—
“Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt:
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt.”
“Mein Vater, mein Vater, jatzt faßt er mich an!
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan!”—
‘I love you. Your beauty excites me;
if you’re not willing, I’ll take you by force.’
‘My father, my father, he seizes me!
The Erl-king has hurt me…’—
In this third statement the facade is dropped, and the Erlkönig shows his true nature. His first words are “Ich liebe dich” (I love you), but selfless, genuine love this is not. A comparison with the opening of the Beethoven Lied “Ich liebe dich” is illuminating—both poems begin with the same words, but what follows could not be more different. In the Beethoven work, in which the love represented is pure, the poetic rhythm is maintained for the entire line (“Ich liebe dich so wie du mich/am Abend und am Morgen”), while the remainder of the Erlkönig’s line involves a marked increase in momentum (“Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt”).
This change of poetic meter and momentum signal an end to the Erlkönig‘s patience and betray his loss of self-control. He is attracted to the boy and cannot help himself. (Is this the first boy he has seduced?) Most significant here is the phrase “mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt” (your beauty excites me). This statement, more than any other, reveals the Erlkönig’s helplessness in the face of a real addiction to the boy, which will lead to violence if this need is not satisfied (“und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt” [“and if you’re not willing, I will use force”]).
At this crucial moment, Schubert’s music pulls us from the tempting, colorful world the Erlkönig has described and plants us firmly back in reality by recalling two motives associated with the child’s fear throughout the song: the triplet figuration in the piano, and diminished harmonies, used here for the first time by the Erlkönig himself. It is useful to compare this statement melodically to Beethoven’s “Ich liebe dich,” in which the gentle anacrusis and subsequent flowing, stepwise motion convey no sense of urgency or conflict.
The Erlkönig’s “Ich liebe dich,” however, begins with a pair of repeated notes outlining a descending perfect fourth, a gesture often used to musically depict the powerful and declamatory. The text which follows, “mich reizt Deine schöne Gestalt” (your beauty excites me), moves by step within the narrow range of a minor third. This suggests an inner tension seeking to free itself, which it does with the wider, descending interval of “so brauch’ ich Gewalt” (I will use force) (mm. 122-23). This text is set with a sol-do cadence, an inversion of the opening of the statement (m. 117). Furthermore, Schubert gives each interval a dotted rhythm. The use of these devices binds love and violence inextricably together in the Erlkönig’s persona.
The poem concludes with the death of the child.
Dem Vater grausets, er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not:
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.
The father shudders, swiftly he rides,
the moaning child he holds in his arms;
he gains the manor in great distress;
in his arms the child was dead.
(Translation: George Bird and Richard Stokes, in The Fischer-Dieskau Book of Lieder, Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 1977, pp. 207-08.)
Like all great art, this Lied can be interpreted on several different levels. Is the Erlkönig real or not? He could be a hallucination of a feverish child (whom some hypothesize is being taken to a doctor as the song begins), or even a memory of someone who has molested him. Or the entire story could be a nightmare on the part of the father. It could simply be taken at face value: a romantic ballad of a supernatural being, numbering itself among countless others of that genre.
In all of these possibilities, however, Schubert’s Erlkönig represents something absolutely real—something capable of disrupting our lives at any time. This, ultimately, is what makes this song so terrifying. And so magnificent.
