I
This is a tale of long ago. It is a tale of the days of knighthood and
minstrelsy; of the days when field and forest rang with the clash of
arms, and baronial halls echoed with the sound of harp and voice; when
brave knights vied with one another not only in jousts and tourneys at
arms, but in tournaments of song as well.
In those strange days a majestic castle, called the Wartburg, stood on a
lofty peak overlooking the green and peaceful valleys of Thuringia. The
Landgrave Herman and his niece, the beautiful Princess Elizabeth, lived
there, and they were attended by a splendid court of nobles, knights,
and fair ladies.
The Wartburg was the scene of many gay festivals. Time and again the
good people of Thuringia would gather from near and far to watch
gallant, armor-clad knights ride out with lance and spear to mimic
warfare. But more often they would gather within the great castle hall
to listen to the melodies of well-tuned harps and sweet-voiced singers
in tournaments of song.
The white hand of the beautiful Princess placed the laurel wreath of
victory most often upon the brow of one bold young Minstrel Knight,
Tannhaeuser by name. His was the rarest gift of poetry, his the sweetest
voice. Nor was any one more beloved than he. His prowess in battle, his
skill with lance and spear, his fearless eye, had made him a favorite of
the Landgrave; while his noble bearing, the light touch of his fingers
upon the harp strings, and his clear young voice had won the heart of
the proud Princess.
But Tannhaeuser, unmindful of these great gifts of fortune, had, in a
rash moment, quarreled with his companions. Angry beyond reason,
forgetful of both friendship and love, he had cast himself away from the
Wartburg, and had sought the solace of solitude.
Opposite the Wartburg, black and foreboding against the blue of the sky,
like a giant of old, towered a mountain, the Horselburg. And thither,
sad to relate, the footsteps of the errant Minstrel Knight led the way.
Now, it seems that when Venus, the Goddess of Love, was banished from
the earth, she hid herself away from the eyes of all righteous men, deep
within the heart of that very mountain, the Horselburg. Brooding over
her fancied wrongs, she lived there and plotted evil against mankind.
Her domain was a wonderful cave, all shadows and mystery; and her
subjects were strange creatures of the underworld. And, the story went,
from a couch of gold where she sat arrayed in richest garments, she
lured guileless wanderers through an unseen portal in the mountain
side, straight into her kingdom. And while her siren voice cast its
spell, while her fatal beauty wove its charm, the poor wanderer was
powerless. He followed, and followed, forever and a day, and knew not
where. But the face of the earth saw him no more.
Do you wonder, with such a story abroad, that the Horselburg was shunned
by old and young? But what cared the bold Minstrel Knight for strange
goddesses or their powers? Tannhaeuser was clad in all the trappings of
knighthood; he had his armor, his lance; the harp of his minstrelsy hung
by his side. So he came to the foot of the Horselburg, dreamily,
heedlessly, but unafraid.
Still, as he paused to rest beneath an over-hanging rock at the mouth of
a cave, he fancied that he heard the sound of rushing water. He started,
looking both to the right and to the left. There was no water to be
seen. A moment later the faint tinkle of bells fell upon his ear; then
the echo of a distant melody followed. He arose and peered into the
cave. His venturesome spirit prompted him to take one step
forward,--then another. Through the shadows he detected the glimmer of
many lights, now red, now violet, now blue. What was the rosy haze that
enveloped him? And the faint music that drew him on and on? A delicate
odor assailed his nostrils. A delicious languor overcame him. "Where am
I?" he called. But the only answer was the clang as of a closing door,
and the sound of a rippling laugh. A moment later, led by unseen magic,
blinded by light and overpowered by sound, he stumbled into a region of
enchantment, into the presence of Venus herself.
A fascinating, bewitching goddess was Venus, and Tannhaeuser lingered at
her feet for a long time. Her magic drew a veil before his eyes, which
blinded and enthralled him. And he mistook the mocking cruelty of her
face for beauty and the lure of her glance for kindness and love. So he
played upon his harp and sang marvelous new songs to her and knelt
before her to pay her homage. He forgot all about the past, his
knighthood, his minstrelsy, his home, his friends. He even forgot his
God.
Nymphs danced before him, elfin creatures made music for him, strange
flowers delighted his eyes, and all was an unceasing round of pleasure
day after day. There was no sun to shine, no moon, no stars. Spring
never came, nor winter. It was all as though the world had never been.
Still there came a day at last when Tannhaeuser awoke. He awoke as if
from a dream. For a sound had pierced the very rocks and reached his
ears. It was the chime of distant church bells.
Tannhaeuser ran his hand across his forehead and staggered to his feet.
He remembered.
With the remembrance came a loathing and a longing that were pain. He
hated the perfume-laden mists about him, the strange flowers, and the
nymphs with their songs and endless whirling dances. He longed for a
breath of pure woodland air, for the sight of rain-freshened grass, for
the sound of the lark's song at dawn.
So he seized his harp and sang to Venus and begged her to let him go
back to earth.
"Oh, goddess," he implored, "let me go."
But Venus only smiled a dreamy smile and spoke in soft whispers of the
charm of her domain. And the dancers circled about in a maddening whirl,
ever faster and faster. The odor of the strange flowers became still
heavier. Sparkling points of light gleamed among the shadows. A
mysterious blue lake appeared in the hazy distance, and misty clouds of
rose and gold floated in the air.
But Tannhaeuser still remembered. He loathed the never-ending delights;
the ceaseless ease and rest; the songs, the odors, the mist. Ah! for
but a sight of Heaven's clear blue, its clouds and sun of noonday, its
moon and stars of night; the changing round of seasons, seed time and
harvest; the mingled joys and pains; and work, thrice-blessed work!
Tannhaeuser took up his harp and sang to Venus once more. The strings
rang with the vigor of his touch; his voice soared high in
heart-stirring refrain. He promised that as long as he had life he would
sing the praises of Venus. Wherever he might roam, her name--and hers
alone--would bring a song to his lips. As her champion would he fare
forth upon the earth again. All this he promised, if she would only set
him free.
Anger overwhelmed the goddess--but she hesitated no longer. Let him
spread her fame and name through the upper world that had banished her!
With one sweep of her arms she broke the chains of enchantment that
bound Tannhaeuser fast. Crying,--
"If all hope is lost, return to me!" she bade him depart.
At that moment a terrific crash rent the air. It seemed as though the
earth had been burst asunder. The mists, the gleaming figures, the cave,
disappeared; and--
Tannhaeuser found himself lying on a grassy knoll in a sunlit valley. On
one side was the black and gloomy Horselburg; on the other a lofty peak
crowned by the Wartburg, stately, grand, majestic, as of yore.
Flowers bloomed all about; the sky was serene and beautiful; birds sang;
a gentle breeze swayed the trees.
From the cliff above came the sound of a pipe. A young shepherd was
watching his flock there, and he sang a tender little song, all
sweetness and melody. The simple beauty of it, the purity, touched
Tannhaeuser's heart, and as he listened his eyes filled with tears.
Suddenly the sonorous tones of men's voices filled the air. Then down
the winding pathway and through the valley came the tramp, tramp,
tramp, of many feet. And to the solemn strains of a song of prayer a
band of pilgrims passed slowly by on the way to Rome to seek pardon for
their sins. The little shepherd bared his head until the last pilgrim
had passed him by. Then, waving his cap, he shouted:
"God speed, God speed! Say one prayer for me!"
But Tannhaeuser sat as one spellbound, until all at once, deeply
overcome, he fell upon his knees. Ah, where could _he_ look for pardon
for _his_ sins? The memory of all that ill-spent time in the Venusburg
rushed upon him. Could he pray to the God whom he had forgotten? Tears
choked his voice, and although a prayer arose from his heart it found no
utterance. He lay prone upon the ground, weeping bitterly.
The song of the pilgrims, the measured tread of their feet, grew faint
and still fainter. It died away in the distance. Quiet ruled the
peaceful valley again, for even the shepherd boy had gathered his flock
and gone silently away.
Soon, however, the cheery sound of hunters' horns and the answering bay
of dogs broke the silence. A moment later, a pack of dogs ran down the
forest path from the Wartburg, followed by the Landgrave Herman and his
Knights, all clad in hunting dress.
Seeing the figure of a knight lying upon the ground, their curiosity was
at once aroused. One of the party, Sir Wolfram, ran hastily forward. A
single glance was enough.
"Tannhaeuser!" he cried. "Is it you?"
Tannhaeuser arose hastily, striving to control his emotion and bowed
mutely to the Landgrave.
At first the Knights were uncertain whether he had come back as friend
or foe. But his humble, downcast looks soon spoke for him. So they
welcomed him gladly into their midst.
But Tannhaeuser was loath to stay. He knew that if once the Knights
learned where he had been, they would shrink from him in horror. Looking
into their friendly faces, he was overwhelmed with disgust for all that
wicked time in the Venusburg. He longed to fly from their sight.
Since he would not listen to the entreaties of the Landgrave and his
Knights, Sir Wolfram, Tannhaeuser's old friend, added his plea:
"Have you forgotten Elizabeth?" he asked.
"Elizabeth!" Tannhaeuser exclaimed in a tone of awe,--Elizabeth, the
beautiful Princess, whose name he had forgotten--what of her?
Then Wolfram, speaking softly,--for he loved the beautiful princess
also,--told Tannhaeuser all. He told of that rare prize--the Princess's
love--which had remained constant during Tannhaeuser's long absence. Many
Knights had striven to win her, but she had remained true to the one who
had gone away. While Tannhaeuser had strayed in distant lands, she had
stayed in her bower saddened and alone, never gracing the tournaments
with her presence, never coming forth to witness joust or tourney. Would
he forsake a love like that?
Deeply touched, Tannhaeuser listened until the end. Then the light of a
great joy and a great hope illumined his face. If Elizabeth, the proud
Princess, had not forgotten him, perhaps he might still continue as a
Minstrel Knight in the Wartburg.
"Lead me to her," he cried,--"to her."
So the Landgrave sounded his horn, and to the lively baying of the dogs
and the joyous song of the Knights the whole party proceeded to the
Wartburg.