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.