[30] Tobler, Appenz. Sprachsbuch, 20.
[31] Wolf, Zeitschrift fA1/4r Deut. Myth. i. 168.
[32] Fischart, Garg. 130.
[33] PrA|torius, i. 447.
[34] Hebel, in his charming poem on the Man in the Moon, in
"Allemanische Gedichte," makes him both thief and Sabbath-breaker.
[35] "MA(C)moires ... par Hjouen Thsang, traduits du Chinois par
Stanislas Julien," i. 375. Upham, "Sacred Books of Ceylon," iii. 309.
The Mountain of Venus.
Ragged, bald, and desolate, as though a curse rested upon it, rises
the HA¶rselberg out of the rich and populous land between Eisenach and
Gotha, looking, from a distance, like a huge stone sarcophagus--a
sarcophagus in which rests in magical slumber, till the end of all
things, a mysterious world of wonders.
High up on the north-west flank of the mountain, in a precipitous wall
of rock, opens a cavern, called the HA¶rselloch, from the depths of
which issues a muffled roar of water, as though a subterraneous stream
were rushing over rapidly-whirling millwheels. "When I have stood
alone on the ridge of the mountain," says Bechstein, "after having
sought the chasm in vain, I have heard a mighty rush, like that of
falling water, beneath my feet, and after scrambling down the scarp,
have found myself--how, I never knew--in front of the cave."
("Sagenschatz des ThA1/4ringes-landes," 1835.)
In ancient days, according to the ThA1/4ringian Chronicles, bitter cries
and long-drawn moans were heard issuing from this cavern; and at
night, wild shrieks and the burst of diabolical laughter would ring
from it over the vale, and fill the inhabitants with terror. It was
supposed that this hole gave admittance to Purgatory; and the popular
but faulty derivation of HA¶rsel was _HA¶re, die Seele_--Hark, the
Souls!
But another popular belief respecting this mountain was, that in it
Venus, the pagan Goddess of Love, held her court, in all the pomp and
revelry of heathendom; and there were not a few who declared that they
had seen fair forms of female beauty beckoning them from the mouth of
the chasm, and that they had heard dulcet strains of music well up
from the abyss above the thunder of the falling, unseen torrent.
Charmed by the music, and allured by the spectral forms, various
individuals had entered the cave, and none had returned, except the
TanhA¤user, of whom more anon. Still does the HA¶rselberg go by the name
of the Venusberg, a name frequently used in the middle ages, but
without its locality being defined.
"In 1398, at midday, there appeared suddenly three great fires in the
air, which presently ran together into one globe of flame, parted
again, and finally sank into the HA¶rselberg," says the ThA1/4ringian
Chronicle.
And now for the story of TanhA¤user.
A French knight was riding over the beauteous meadows in the HA¶rsel
vale on his way to Wartburg, where the Landgrave Hermann was holding a
gathering of minstrels, who were to contend in song for a prize.
TanhA¤user was a famous minnesinger, and all his lays were of love and
of women, for his heart was full of passion, and that not of the
purest and noblest description.
It was towards dusk that he passed the cliff in which is the
HA¶rselloch, and as he rode by, he saw a white glimmering figure of
matchless beauty standing before him, and beckoning him to her. He
knew her at once, by her attributes and by her superhuman perfection,
to be none other than Venus. As she spake to him, the sweetest strains
of music floated in the air, a soft roseate light glowed around her,
and nymphs of exquisite loveliness scattered roses at her feet. A
thrill of passion ran through the veins of the minnesinger; and,
leaving his horse, he followed the apparition. It led him up the
mountain to the cave, and as it went flowers bloomed upon the soil,
and a radiant track was left for TanhA¤user to follow. He entered the
cavern, and descended to the palace of Venus in the heart of the
mountain.
Seven years of revelry and debauch were passed, and the minstrel's
heart began to feel a strange void. The beauty, the magnificence, the
variety of the scenes in the pagan goddess's home, and all its
heathenish pleasures, palled upon him, and he yearned for the pure
fresh breezes of earth, one look up at the dark night sky spangled
with stars, one glimpse of simple mountain-flowers, one tinkle of
sheep-bells. At the same time his conscience began to reproach him,
and he longed to make his peace with God. In vain did he entreat Venus
to permit him to depart, and it was only when, in the bitterness of
his grief, he called upon the Virgin-Mother, that a rift in the
mountain-side appeared to him, and he stood again above ground.
How sweet was the morning air, balmy with the scent of hay, as it
rolled up the mountain to him, and fanned his haggard cheek! How
delightful to him was the cushion of moss and scanty grass after the
downy couches of the palace of revelry below! He plucked the little
heather-bells, and held them before him; the tears rolled from his
eyes, and moistened his thin and wasted hands. He looked up at the
soft blue sky and the newly-risen sun, and his heart overflowed. What
were the golden, jewel-incrusted, lamp-lit vaults beneath to that pure
dome of God's building!
The chime of a village church struck sweetly on his ear, satiated with
Bacchanalian songs; and he hurried down the mountain to the church
which called him. There he made his confession; but the priest,
horror-struck at his recital, dared not give him absolution, but
passed him on to another. And so he went from one to another, till at
last he was referred to the Pope himself. To the Pope he went. Urban
IV. then occupied the chair of St. Peter. To him TanhA¤user related the
sickening story of his guilt, and prayed for absolution. Urban was a
hard and stern man, and shocked at the immensity of the sin, he thrust
the penitent indignantly from him, exclaiming, "Guilt such as thine
can never, never be remitted. Sooner shall this staff in my hand grow
green and blossom, than that God should pardon thee!"
Then TanhA¤user, full of despair, and with his soul darkened, went
away, and returned to the only asylum open to him, the Venusberg. But
lo! three days after he had gone, Urban discovered that his pastoral
staff had put forth buds, and had burst into flower. Then he sent
messengers after TanhA¤user, and they reached the HA¶rsel vale to hear
that a wayworn man, with haggard brow and bowed head, had just entered
the HA¶rselloch. Since then TanhA¤user has not been seen.
Such is the sad yet beautiful story of TanhA¤user. It is a very ancient
myth Christianized, a wide-spread tradition localized. Originally
heathen, it has been transformed, and has acquired new beauty by an
infusion of Christianity. Scattered over Europe, it exists in various
forms, but in none so graceful as that attached to the HA¶rselberg.
There are, however, other Venusbergs in Germany; as, for instance, in
Swabia, near Waldsee; another near Ufhausen, at no great distance from
Freiburg (the same story is told of this Venusberg as of the
HA¶rselberg); in Saxony there is a Venusberg not far from Wolkenstein.
Paracelsus speaks of a Venusberg in Italy, referring to that in which
Aneas Sylvius (Ep. 16) says Venus or a Sibyl resides, occupying a
cavern, and assuming once a week the form of a serpent. Geiler v.
Keysersperg, a quaint old preacher of the fifteenth century, speaks of
the witches assembling on the Venusberg.
The story, either in prose or verse, has often been printed. Some of
the earliest editions are the following:--
"Das Lied von dem Danhewser." NA1/4rnberg, without date; the same,
NA1/4rnberg, 1515.--"Das Lyedt v. d. Thanheuser." Leyptzk, 1520.--"Das
Lied v. d. DanheA1/4ser," reprinted by Bechstein, 1835.--"Das Lied vom
edlen Tanheuser, Mons Veneris." Frankfort, 1614; Leipzig, 1668.--"Twe
lede volgen Dat erste vain DanhA1/4sser." Without date.--"Van heer
Danielken." Tantwerpen, 1544.--A Danish version in "Nyerup, Danske
Viser," No. VIII.
Let us now see some of the forms which this remarkable myth assumed in
other countries. Every popular tale has its root, a root which may be
traced among different countries, and though the accidents of the
story may vary, yet the substance remains unaltered. It has been said
that the common people never invent new story-radicals any more than
we invent new word-roots; and this is perfectly true. The same
story-root remains, but it is varied according to the temperament of
the narrator or the exigencies of localization. The story-root of the
Venusberg is this:--
The underground folk seek union with human beings.
I+-. A man is enticed into their abode, where he unites
with a woman of the underground race.