In the fair land of Thuringia there once dwelt a handsome and noble knight, named Henry of TannhÄuser, who was famed for his wonderful gift of song.

In a country where music was the delight of high and low, and where minstrelsy and knighthood went hand in hand, TannhÄuser was the sweetest minstrel of all; and when contests of song were held, it was he who most frequently carried off the wreath of victory. Nor were his brother-minstrels jealous of his power, for they loved him dearly, and gladly yielded him the palm.

The Landgrave, or ruling Prince of Thuringia, had a beautiful niece, the young Princess Elisabeth, whose gracious custom it was to bestow the prizes won at the Tournaments of Song; and, surrounded by her Court of fair maidens, she would listen with delight to the joyous strains of the minstrels.

But when TannhÄuser sounded his harp with the soft and tender touch that was his gift, and the notes of his sweet, wonderful voice rang forth, the heart of the royal maiden was thrilled through and through, and she grew to love the Minstrel Knight with her whole being. And Henry of TannhÄuser trembled when her fair hands placed the wreath upon his brow; for he also loved, and Elisabeth of Thuringia was the queen of his heart.

But, strange to say, so far from being made happy by his love, TannhÄuser gradually became very wretched indeed, for he grew discontented and weary of his life. Whether it was that he fancied Elisabeth did not return his love, and that the royal maid would not be permitted to wed a humble knight; or whether an evil spirit tempted him, none can say. But day by day he grew more and more restless and heavy of heart—the joys, duties, and interests of earth no longer satisfying him—and he longed for a life of everlasting pleasure and delight, free from pain and trouble.

Now, in Thuringia, there was a mountain called the HÖrselberg, or Hill of Venus, within which the heathen goddess of Love and Beauty dwelt with her Court, holding everlasting revels, and seeking to destroy the souls of erring men who fell into her toils; and in this evil, though enticing place, TannhÄuser (either despairing or woefully tempted) at last sought refuge from the griefs and disappointments of earth.

He vanished so suddenly and entirely that none knew whither he had gone; and though his friends and companions sought him long and lovingly, they could not find him.

And the Princess Elisabeth was so full of grief at his loss that she hid herself away in her own chamber to weep in secret; and though the minstrel knights still continued to hold their contests, she no longer graced the fÊtes with her presence, but refused to give away the awards.

In the meantime, TannhÄuser was living a life of soft ease and voluptuous delight in the enthralling Court of Venus; and the beautiful goddess hoped that her loveliness and tender caresses were satisfying the wild longings of the handsome minstrel, whose soul she wished to destroy.

And for a time, indeed, the young man felt that he had at last found the peace and happiness he vainly sought; and the constant indulgence of his senses deadened his conscience, and made him forget that duty, labour, striving, and suffering are the only true means by which a man can attain to his highest level.

Thus, a year passed swiftly by in this abode of monotonous joys and delights, where no count was kept of days and seasons; and then, at last, a passing return of his better nature came over TannhÄuser, and he awoke, as if from a trance, to the knowledge that a life of selfish pleasure cannot satisfy the longings of a noble nature.

He was kneeling, at the time, beside the fair goddess, as she reclined on a couch within the glittering cave where she held her Court; and on every side were the sights and sounds that had enthralled him so long. A wide shining lake stretched out into the distance, and in its rippling blue waters graceful Naiads were disporting themselves, whilst Sirens of wondrous beauty reclined on the mossy banks, their sweet, silvery voices filling the air with enticing songs.

Tender lovers, wrapped in ecstasy, were reclining here and there; and in the centre of the cave a number of dainty Nymphs were constantly dancing, joined ever and anon by a train of wild Bacchantes, who brought a whirl of tumult into their movements, exciting all to a perfect frenzy of joy.

The sounds of music never ceased for a moment: first low and tender, thrilling the heart, and then so merry and joyous that none could refrain from dancing. And over the whole dazzling scene a pall of soft, rosy light was spread, gathering into a mist of billowy clouds in the distance.

Fairest of the fair, and Queen of all this Love and Beauty, Venus sat, enthroned for ever; and as TannhÄuser knelt at the feet of the goddess, with his head sunk upon her knee, he felt for the moment that the world was indeed well lost.

Then, suddenly, with this passing thought of the earth he had left, the Minstrel Knight awakened from his dream of bliss, and seemed to hear the silvery chime of bells from the world outside, bringing back to his remembrance the thought of fair things now lost to him: the radiant sunshine of day, the starry splendour of night, the renewing life and sweet verdure of spring, the nightingale's song of hope and promise, the delight of joy after sorrow, of light after darkness, that only mortals know.

In a flash he saw what an evil choice he had made, how cloying were the selfish delights that now held him captive; and weary of such monotonous joys, he longed to be in the world once more with its mingled joys and pains, understanding now that to strive with evil and conquer was a true heart's highest aim.

The deceptive veil of glamour was thus torn from his eyes; and full of remorse for the time he had already wasted, he implored the beautiful goddess for freedom to return to earth.

But Venus was angry when she heard his request, reproaching him with ingratitude, since she had found him despairing, and brought him comfort; and she begged him to touch his harp once more, and love her still, that all her delights might be his for ever.

TannhÄuser declared he would evermore sing her praises; but now determined to be set free from her enslaving toils, he again begged her to send him back into the world, saying:

"'Twas joy alone, a longing thirst for pleasure,
That fill'd my heart, and darkened my desire:
And thou, whose bounty gods alone can measure,
Gav'st me, poor mortal, all its wealth to know.
But while my sense thou hast enchanted,
By thy great love my heart is daunted:
A god alone can dwell in joy,
To mortals frail, its blisses cloy.
I would be swayed by pain and pleasure
In Nature's sweet, alternate measure:
I must away from thee, or die!"

Once more Venus poured forth her anger upon him, declaring that he slighted her love since the charms he vaunted so soon wearied him; but the Minstrel Knight replied:

"While I have life, alone my harp shall praise thee,
No meaner theme shall e'er my song inspire:
And yet, for earth, for earth I'm yearning!
'Tis freedom I must win, or die.
For freedom I can all defy,
To strife or glory forth I go,
Come life or death, come joy or woe.
No more in bondage will I sigh!
Oh queen, beloved goddess, let me fly!"

Then, when Venus saw that the cloying delights she had to offer could no longer hold the awakened soul of TannhÄuser, she at last granted his request, and angrily bade him go back to the cold dull earth once more, declaring that he would but meet with scorn and disappointment, and be glad to return to her sweet joys again. But the Minstrel Knight said that he could never return to her, since repentance and his hope of Heaven would now fill all his days; and with these words he bade an everlasting farewell to the lovely enchantress.

And then the dazzling Court of Venus suddenly vanished from sight; and when TannhÄuser next opened his eyes, he found himself in a beautiful valley, between the forest-girt HÖrselberg and the royal castle.

Overhead, the radiant sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky, and on the mountain side a flock of sheep were feeding, whilst from a rocky eminence above, a joyous young shepherd piped a merry lay. The fresh green grass was spangled with early flowers, and the birds were singing in the budding trees; for it was spring-time, and all the world seemed full of praise and joy.

Overcome with gratitude, TannhÄuser sank upon his knees to return thanks to Heaven for his release from selfish pleasure; and humbly he resolved to lead a new life of repentance and devotion.

Whilst he thus knelt in prayer, a band of pilgrims on their way to Rome came by, and wound along the mountain path, singing a hymn of confession and repentance; and when they had gone, TannhÄuser repeated the hymn upon his knees.

A short time afterwards, it happened that the Landgrave of Thuringia and his minstrel knights passed through the valley on their return from a great forest-hunt; and seeing the kneeling Knight, they drew near to learn who he was, and whence he came.

But when TannhÄuser rose and faced them on their approach, they recognised him at once as their long-lost brother-minstrel, whom they had sought so vainly; and receiving him joyfully, they eagerly demanded of him where he had hidden himself so long, begging him to return with them to the castle.

TannhÄuser replied that he had wandered far into strange and distant realms in search of peace and rest, which he had not found; and he declared he could not rejoin their beloved ranks, since he had resolved to lead the lonely pilgrim's life of devotion.

Then a noble young knight, named Wolfram, who had been his dearest friend in the old days, stepped forward, and said that the fair Princess Elisabeth still mourned the absence of the favourite minstrel, whose sweet music had filled her heart with love and rapture; and he added:

"When thou in scorn hadst left us,
Her heart was closed to joy and song.
Of her sweet presence she bereft us,
For thee in vain she wearied long.
Oh, Minstrel bold, return and rest thee,
Once more awake thy joyous strain,
Cast off the burden that oppress'd thee,
And her fair star will shine again!"

The name of Elisabeth acted like a charm upon TannhÄuser, for love of this sweet royal maid still filled his whole heart, strengthened and deepened by the struggles he had gone through; and learning thus for certain that his love was returned, he flung aside all thoughts of a pilgrim's life, and cried out gladly: "What joy! What joy! Oh, guide my steps to her!"

The whole valley was by this time full of nobles and squires in hunting green; and when the Landgrave sounded his bugle, he was answered by a joyous peal from the merry huntsmen as they gathered round.

Then the brilliant cavalcade rode gaily forward with TannhÄuser in their midst, and when they reached the castle, high revels were held in honour of the Minstrel Knight's return. The chief of these revels was a grand Tournament of Song; and it was announced that the prize of the victor was to be the hand of the Princess Elisabeth, who, having learnt with joy of the return of TannhÄuser, had gladly agreed to be present, and to offer her hand as the reward, knowing full well who would gain it.

When the day of the contest arrived, the Landgrave, minstrels, and the whole Court assembled in the famous Hall of Song within the royal castle; and as the Princess Elisabeth entered with her train of fair maidens, she was received amongst them with great joy.

But Elisabeth had eyes for none other but TannhÄuser, who dropped on his knees before her; and raising him gently from the ground, she told him of the woe she had suffered during his absence, and of the joy she now felt at his return.

When TannhÄuser heard these gracious words, and knew that he might now win the hand of his dear Princess, he was full of happiness; and he told her that it was his great love that had always made his music so sweet in the old days.

And now the Landgrave announced that the theme of the contest was to be Nature and Praise of Love; and one by one the minstrel knights stepped forward to sing their songs.

The noble young Wolfram began the contest, and as he vainly loved the Princess Elisabeth with his whole heart, he addressed his song to her as a humble worshipper, whose only desire was to adore her from afar, and live and die in her service.

The other minstrels described the nature of their love in a similar strain; and then TannhÄuser sprang forward, and passionately disputed all that they had said. Having loved profanely himself, and being full of impatience at what he called their cold and timid hearts, he outraged the whole company by describing to them the voluptuous ideas of love he had gained from his sojourn in the Court of Venus; and led away by his exaltation, he addressed himself to the fair goddess herself, declaring that none but those who had enjoyed the enchantments of her embraces were worthy to speak of Love.

When his wild and beautiful song came to an end, a loud chorus of dismay and indignation arose from the company, and the minstrel knights, full of horror because one of their number had been in the Court of the heathen goddess, rushed upon TannhÄuser with drawn swords, uttering curses, and declaring that the gates of Heaven were now closed on him for ever.

But quick the beautiful Elisabeth sprang in front of her lover; and, though utterly crushed with disappointment at his unworthiness, she bade the knights stand back and refrain their curses and reproaches, since repentance was still left to the poor sinner.

The Landgrave now pronounced sentence of banishment upon TannhÄuser, but since Elisabeth had interceded for him, he declared hers to be the voice of Heaven, and held out one ray of hope. He commanded him to join the band of holy pilgrims now passing through the land on their way to the sacred shrine at Rome, and there, repentant and humble, to seek forgiveness from the Pope, not daring to return unless by him forgiven.

Elisabeth again besought her lover to repent, and set his thoughts alone on Heaven; and TannhÄuser, full of despair, seeing now that an illusion had blinded him, rushed off to join the ranks of the pilgrims, humbly praying as he went.

When the pilgrims had left the country, Elisabeth gave herself up entirely to heavenly thoughts and devotions, and every day went to kneel before a shrine at the foot of the mountain to pray that Heaven's forgiveness might come upon her lover, and that he might be restored to her.

Slowly and sadly the months went by; and at last the day came on which the pilgrims were expected to pass by on their return from Rome.

Early in the morning Elisabeth went to the Virgin's shrine in the valley to pray; and the faithful Wolfram, who loved her still in vain, kept watch on the path above, and nobly prayed Heaven to send the lovers a happy meeting.

At length a holy chant was heard in the distance, and soon afterwards the band of pilgrims came trooping down the mountain path and passed along the valley, singing joyous songs of thankfulness because their repentance had been accepted and their sins forgiven.

Wolfram and Elisabeth eagerly scanned the passing pilgrims with anxious eyes; but TannhÄuser was not amongst them.

Full of grief and disappointment, the royal maiden now resolved to leave the outside world, with its troubles and pains, and seek peace in the pure, calm life of a nun; and kneeling once more before the shrine, she solemnly consecrated herself to the Virgin in these beautiful words:

"Oh, blessed Virgin, hear my prayer!
Thou star of glory, look on me!
Here in the dust I bend before thee,
Now from this earth, oh set me free!
Let me, a maiden pure and white,
Enter into thy kingdom bright!
In this hour, oh grant thy aid!
Till thy eternal peace thou give me.
I vow to live and die thy maid,
And on thy bounty I will call,
That heavenly grace on him may fall."

Then Elisabeth arose in peace and returned to the Castle; but her heart was broken, and a few hours later she died in the arms of her weeping maidens.

When evening fell, Wolfram, sad at heart, stood alone on the mountain-side; and still thinking of his lost love, his voice presently broke forth into a low, sweet song.

"Oh star of eve, thy tender beam
Smiles on my spirit's troubled dream.
From heart that ne'er its trust betrayed,
Greet, when she passes, the peerless maid!
Bear her beyond this vale of sorrow
To fields of light that know no morrow."

The sound of the Minstrel's singing caused a crouching figure on the mountain path to draw nearer; and in this grief-stricken form, clad in a pilgrim's robe, Wolfram recognised the wretched TannhÄuser.

Still scorning his friend for having, as he supposed, deserted the pilgrims' ranks and never made the journey to Rome, Wolfram drew back; but when TannhÄuser assured him that he had indeed visited the sacred shrine, and returned uncomforted, he was filled with pity instead, and willingly listened to his sad tale.

Then TannhÄuser told him that, full of the humblest repentance, he had made the journey to Rome, gladly enduring more hardships and sufferings than any of the other pilgrims.

"When I beheld a heavy burdened pilgrim,
It seemed to me his load was all too light.
And if he sought a pathway o'er the meadow,
I trod, unshod, amid the rock and thorns.
If he refreshed his lips by cooling fountains,
The brazen sun poured on my head forlorn,
When he besought the saints in murmur'd prayer,
I shed my life-blood in the cause divine;
When in the hospice he sought rest and shelter,
On ice and snow it was that I sought mine!"

Amidst such hardships as these the poor pilgrim had at length reached Rome, and humbly kneeling before the sacred shrine, had begged the Pope to grant him Heaven's forgiveness.

But when the Pope had listened to his confession he said the sin was too great for pardon, and declared that it was as impossible for one who had dwelt in the evil Courts of Venus to hope for Heaven's forgiveness as it was for the rood in his hand to put forth green leaves.

And then, scorned by one and all, with his sin still unabsolved, and the hand of Elisabeth farther away from him than ever, the wretched TannhÄuser had followed in the wake of the homeward-bound pilgrims: and now, having finished his story, and being full of despair, he called wildly upon the goddess Venus to receive him into her dazzling Courts of Love once more.

In answer to his call, the sounds of enchanting music were distinctly heard in the distance, and in a thick, billowy mist that began to encircle the HÖrselberg, the lovely form of Venus became dimly visible; but Wolfram implored the despairing Knight to refrain from again sharing these evil joys that would ruin his soul, and still to think only of repentance for his sin.

But TannhÄuser was hopeless, and felt that, scorned by the world, and denied to Heaven, the Court of Venus was the only haven left to him; and though he loathed the thought of its cloying pleasures, he was just about to yield to the enticing calls of the fair goddess, when another incident occurred.

At this moment, the solemn funeral procession of Elisabeth came slowly by, and passed along the mountain path, with mourning knights and weeping maidens singing a low requiem hymn; and at the same time, a fresh band of pilgrims appeared on the heights above and announced that a miracle had taken place on the night of TannhÄuser's departure from Rome. The Pope's rood had put forth fresh green leaves by morning light; and taking this as a sign of Heaven's favour, he had sent messengers into every part to proclaim that TannhÄuser's sin was forgiven, and his repentance accepted.

Full of thankfulness that the prayers of Elisabeth, now an angel in Heaven, had been thus answered, Wolfram joined the pilgrims in their rejoicings for the forgiven sinner, whilst Venus disappeared within her mountain once more; but TannhÄuser, overcome with joy, and filled with a wonderful peace, sank dying beside the bier of his beloved one, and the golden gates of Heaven were opened to him at last.