More than one of the knights had been a suitor for the Princess's hand, and they saw in this promise a reward for their dearest hopes. So you may imagine what a wave of suppressed excitement went around all the crowded hall at this announcement. The hands of the minstrels trembled as they drew lots for the order of their songs.
The lot of Wolfram came first, and amid a profound hush he rose to begin.
Thrumming the harp strings with a practised hand he began in a low clear voice to sing of unselfish devotion and chivalry. Wolfram had long loved the Princess, but had generously yielded place in favour of his friend Tannhäuser. Now his song showed the nobility of the man. He paid tribute to the ladies of the court among whom the Princess shone as some rare gem. Then, his voice rising steadily higher till it thrilled his hearers, he sang of the one true love that counted its highest joy the sacrifice of even life itself for the loved one.
When Wolfram had finished, the hall resounded with cries of acclamation; for indeed his song had been beautiful, and no less true. Tannhäuser alone did not join in the applause. While the song was being sung he had sat silent as one in a dream. Again before his eyes came the vision of the fairy grotto with its gorgeous pictures and entrancing music. He, seemed to see the bewitching figure of Venus and to hear his own voice as he promised her, "I will sing your praise and yours alone."
Scarcely knowing what he did, Tannhäuser sprang to his feet, before the applause for his rival had subsided, and began to sing an answer to Wolfram's strain. But how different was his theme! Instead of the pure exalted love which gloried in self-sacrifice, he sang of selfish desire which sought only for personal gratification. Truly the enchantment was still upon him, for he could think only of the life of the grotto and the round of pleasures which had been planned for him, rather than of any devotion upon his own part. But that was the way in which Venus, once the goddess of true love, now weakened men's minds.
When Tannhäuser began to sing, the audience gave him close heed. He had not proceeded far, however, with his strange theme, when murmurs of anger and dissent began to be heard, which increased until one of the minstrels at length sprang to his feet.
"The love you sing is false!" he cried; "false as your own heart! We will not hear it in silence, nor suffer you thus to cast a slur upon all true knights. I challenge you to mortal combat!"
These words were loudly cheered by other minstrels. The entire hall was in an uproar until the King arose and commanded silence. Then Wolfram was seen standing once more with harp in hand, beckoning to be heard.
In words of kindly reproach he rebuked Tannhäuser for his selfish and unworthy song. He could not know what real devotion was, Wolfram said, if he placed it upon so low a plane. Then Wolfram again touched his harp strings and sang a pleasing tender refrain in praise of the love to which they all aspired.
But Tannhäuser rudely interrupted him, and heeding not the clamour which broke forth again, he sang in wild reckless fashion of the life he had led during the past year. He told of the grotto, its music, its perfumes, its exquisite scenes and round of delights presided over by Venus herself.