The
last strains have scarcely died away when a gloomy figure slowly enters
upon the path lately trodden by the rejoicing pilgrims. It is Tannhaeuser
returning from Rome, disappointed and despairing. His pilgrimage has
availed him nothing. The Pope bade him hope for no pardon for his sin
till the staff which he held in his hand should put forth leaves and
blossom. With these awful words ringing in his ears, Tannhaeuser has
retraced his weary steps. He has had enough of earth, and thinks only of
returning to the embraces of Venus. In response to his cries Venus
appears, in the midst of a wild whirl of nymphs and sirens. In vain
Wolfram urges and appeals; Tannhaeuser will not yield his purpose. He
breaks from his friend, and is rushing to meet the extended arms of the
goddess, when Wolfram adjures him once more by the sainted memory of
Elisabeth. At the sound of that sinless name Venus and her unhallowed
crew sink with a wild shriek into the earth. The morning breaks, and the
solemn hymn of the procession bearing the corpse of Elisabeth sounds
sweetly through the forest. As the bier is carried forward Tannhaeuser
sinks lifeless by the dead body of his departed saint, while a band of
young pilgrims comes swiftly in, bearing the Pope's staff, which has put
forth leaves and blossomed--the symbol of redemption and pardon for the
repentant sinner.
It will generally be admitted that the story of 'Tannhaeuser' is better
suited for dramatic purposes than that of 'Der Fliegende Hollaender,'
apart from the lofty symbolism which gives it so deeply human an
interest.
Pages:
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194