United States or Taiwan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The singer ceased, the company departed. Angela was left crying over the beauty of "The Erlking," the last song rendered. She went back to her room, and Suzanne ostensibly departed for hers. She came out to say a few final words to Mrs. Witla, then came through the studio to go to her own room again. Eugene was there waiting. He caught her in his arms, kissing her silently.
The last phrase should soar tenderly, saturated with a warm and soulful coloring. "The Erlking," by Schubert. For him who is familiar with our native legends and tales, the willows and alders in the fields and by the brooks are peopled with hidden beings, fairies, and witches.
The plan succeeded beyond expectation, so that other songs were issued in the same way, until, when seven had appeared the publishers were willing to risk the engraving of other songs themselves. Before all this had taken place, Johann Vogl, an admired opera singer in Vienna at the time, had learned Schubert's "Erlking," and had sung it in March, 1821, at a public concert patronized by royalty.
But Schubert, too, could write such thrilling five-minute dramas as the "Erlking" and the "Doppelgänger," without being able to compose a successful opera. Like Schumann, he could not paint al fresco, could not command that bolder and broader sweep which is required of an operatic composer.
Anxiety for his sick child makes his manly tones break; the comforting words contain already a longing for the journey's end quickly, quickly, must he reach it. Erlking has now completely filled the feverish fancy of the child. With ruthless power he possesses himself of the boy all opposition is vain the silver cord is loosened.
Herr Schubert puffed and blew, and "The Erlking" pranced and thumped. Now and then he stumbled and fell, and the fugitives flew fast ahead. The player's face was grave beyond belief, filled with a kind of fat melancholy, and tinged with tragic intent. The faces watching it passed from question to amusement, and from amusement to protest.
Lovingly the father bends over him; quietly he asks him the cause of his fear. Frightened, the child looks to one side, and asks, in disconnected phrases, whether his father does not see the Erlking, the Erlking with his crown and train. They had just ridden by a clump of willows. Still quietly, the father explains smilingly to his son that what he saw was a bank of fog hanging over the meadow.
Erlking invites the boy to play with his daughters, who shall dance with him and rock him and sing to him. In the heat of fever the boy implores his father to look for the Erlking's daughters. The father sees only an old gray willow; but his voice is no longer calm.
"Have you published it? What is it?" "'Der Erlkönig," said Schubert shortly. The child's face quivered. "I know," she said. Her father glanced down at her, smiling. "What do you know?" he said gently. "I read it," said the child, simply. She shivered a little. "The Erlking carried him off," she said. She covered her face, suddenly in tears. She was quivering from head to foot.
Like those other wind-gods the psychopomp Hermes and the wild huntsman Odin, he is the prince of the powers of the air: his flight through the midnight sky, attended by his troop of witches mounted on their brooms, which sometimes break the boughs and sweep the leaves from the trees, is the same as the furious chase of the Erlking Odin or the Burckar Vittikab.
Word Of The Day