Tannhäuser and Venus – Still Showstoppers
The recently completed revival of Tannhäuser at Berlin’s Deutsche Oper broke all records for stupidity, but it’s the production we’ll remember. Was it the 40 on-stage hospital beds for exhausted returning pilgrims, or the 20 suits of armor that were randomly raised and lowered, over the course of 3 hours, sometimes replaced by a bunch of demons? Silly theater can be so powerful!
During the overture, Tannhäuser, (played by a stuntman) lowers himself about 50 feet from the top of the stage, waving his arms and legs. It takes several minutes for him to descend into a sea of female flesh, albeit with artificial breasts. I guess there can’t be a female choir, so well endowed, without a wobble in sight. I wondered what women would do in full Tannhäuser armor once it was under the sea of limbs. I was not disappointed. During the bronze crescendo, pieces of armor were flung from the depths and then the real Tannhäuser appeared, exhausted, ready for his taming with Venus.
Why is Venus important to us in 2017, or why was it important in 12th-century Christian Germany or 19th-century Paris? Why is he a key figure in Wagner’s opera Tannhäuser? I think it’s because it’s a good vehicle for the artist to express his creativity and challenge popular ideas. That is the role of the artist.
The pagans helped us to Christianity.
We can understand why Wagner uses Venus as a dramatic vehicle, but why does St. Chad’s Church in Harpswell have William Harrington, (rector, died 1350), resting on a superb Green Man? The Würzburg Cathedral has a Green Man looking at God. The churches of Nicosia have several Green Men. The minstrels of the thirteenth century were fascinated by Venus.
Is there a connection? Is there an explanation?
Waldemar Januszczak has an offer I’d like to try. In his fascinating BBC4 program on the Middle Ages, he pointed out that early depictions of Christ gave him a female face, or at least a very youthful one. Only later, with the cult of Mary well established in Christianity, do representations of Jesus move towards the heroic face of Jupiter. Waldemar explains it like this. Early Christianity had an image problem: how to attract the 50% of the population, who were women. To avoid this, artists often opted for an androgynous Jesus. The later, post-Mary cult version of Jesus with the face of Jupiter was designed to bring pagans on board, without separating them from their old religion.
Once one starts looking, Waldemar’s argument stands out in many settings.
The feminine side of St. George is beautifully portrayed in several early 15th-century sculptures by Bernd Notke. The Katherine Church in Lübeck has plaster copies. One of them cannot be a mistake. George is more feminine than the princess waiting to be saved from the dragon. Is the woman George another example of the baby Jesus?
It didn’t happen in a day.
During early Christianity, there were still pockets of pagan sympathy, and belief in gods like Venus was an intermediate stage between pagan and full Christian. Venus helped keep new Christians in their old comfort zone. Minstrels and poets used it to express aspects of her character that were no longer acceptable as medieval Christian dinner talk. Was an androgynous Saint George a useful dildo for both sexes? Why did Venus reappear so many years after her disappearance as a Roman goddess?
The theory is that the Middle Ages were not as Christian as our history lessons would have us believe. For example, the Slavic king Jaczo ruled over the area we now call Berlin Brandenburg. He crossed over to Christianity in 1154. It was then, with his exhausted horse sunk in the Havel, that he made some trial prayers to various deities. Things got better after they called Christ and helped his horse to the river bank. He decided to become a follower, but did he immediately give up his three-headed pagan god, Triglav? Probably not. We all need islands of safety within our vision before we can make the leap.
Wagner and Venus
It’s time to apply Waldemar’s theory to Wagner’s Tannäuser. Wagner merged two medieval sagas for his opera. Other than that, he stayed (almost) true to the original threads.
Venus lived in Venusberg, somewhere in what is now Thuringia. Tannhäuser told Venus that he wanted to leave her because she missed the sky and birdsong. The Venusberg was underground, in a mountain, rather than on top of it, and was hidden from mortals. Hold that thought. The protruding bone, which supports the female pubic hair, is called mons veneris in anatomy – Latin for Mount of Venus. In the saga, the men who entered Venusberg accepted doom.
Suppose Venus and Tannhäuser were in a great cavern, attended by as much voluptuous flesh as a man could wish to see and taste. Apparently, you can have too much of a good thing. Tannhäuser, after an hour of wailing, screaming, and operatic accusations, leaves Venus and returns to the Wartburg. This medieval castle sits on a Thuringian mountain, and is where the rest of the operatic action takes place. The room can still be visited. At the Wartburg, he rediscovers his love for Elizabeth, the symbol of Christian feminine purity. She is waiting to be taken and dominated by an honorable gentleman. Tannhäuser, a gentleman and minstrel, had been the man of his dreams, before he went to try out without a purse at the Venusberg.
Tannhäuser finds himself involved in a singing contest on the theme of true love. Elizabeth’s hand is the prize for the winner. Tannhäuser’s friend Wolfram obediently sings about pure love, without lust. Tannhäuser bursts out and tells them that a little meat lust never hurt anyone. Elizabeth is excited about the idea. Tannhäuser gets carried away and admits to having been on the Venusberg. They expel him from the castle and tell him to join the pilgrims on their way to Rome to see if such a sin can ever be forgiven.
Elizabeth’s libido, in her dreams
Now the same soprano sings Venus and Isabel, with the same costumes and makeup. We have to ask: was the Venusberg a product of Tannhäuser’s erotic fantasy? Was he fantasizing about Elizabeth’s female libido? Is Elizabeth ready to show the lustful part of her femininity? Was this a match made on Venusberg, rather than in heaven? We never found out. Tannhäuser leaves a distraught Elizabeth wondering what she could have been. She agrees that her husband must be presentable and she agrees that he must go to Rome. She prays for the Pope’s forgiveness.
awesome redemption
Tannhäuser returns from Rome and recounts the words of Pope Urban IV. It is so likely that he will be forgiven such a heinous sin, like Urbano’s cane, that it will sprout leaves. Elizabeth sinks exhausted to the ground. Wolfram covers her with a shroud. Tannhäuser wants to go back to the Venusberg, Elizabeth comes out from under the shroud. Now she is Venus and she tries to seduce him. Wolfram restrains Tannhäuser and prevents him from getting close to Venus. Tannhäuser dies, while the pilgrims enter to declare that the staff has sprouted leaves; Tannhäuser is forgiven and is able to join Elizabeth in heaven.
accept sexual desire
In 19th century Europe, many men believed that if women possessed sexual desire, they were prostitutes. No one asked the question, was Tannhäuser blameless, when he and Venus engaged in so-called sins of the flesh. Did the rod sprout, because there was no sin to forgive? In the medieval version of the saga, Tannhäuser does return to the Venusberg, and the staff still cabbage Were those poets and minstrels trying to tell us that lustful sex is not a sin? Is that why we still love those old stories?
We know what Wagner thought. He celebrated the female sex drive on stage, most notably in Tristan and Isolde, though he let the love potion take care of Iseult’s lewd behavior. No one is fooled nowadays. We know that Tristan and Iseult are crazy about each other, long before the love potion is administered.
Why did Wagner opt for the soft ending in his version of Tannhäuser? These operas divided society. The Paris premiere of Tannhäuser, (1861) was a disaster and marred by protests from the audience, because the dance was in the wrong place and disturbed eating habits. Perhaps, with such an audience, the medieval ending was unthinkable. Lovers had to go to heaven, not to the Venusberg!
Jean Shinoda Bolen, in her Jungian analysis of the role of the Goddesses in our lives, defines Venus as the woman with serious sexual desire. I left my copy of Bolen’s ‘Goddesses in Everywoman’ in a prominent place in my house. No visitor has ever made it past the book without stopping and taking a look. We all need a little paganism!
Venus goes elsewhere
Tannhäuser’s story has inspired many works of art, literature and the occasional movie (Blade Runner). Aubrey Beardsley added to the genre in the 1890s, with his slender bulk, The story of Venus and Tannhäuser. It wasn’t printed in its entirety until the 1960s, because no one had the courage. Beardsley died before its completion. He describes Tannhäuser’s entry into the Venusberg and subsequent antics. It is pure obscenity and very funny. Another reason why we need Venus: to remind us that life is to be enjoyed and you never know what you might like until you try it.
I also couldn’t resist Venus and Tannhauser. The lovers, in my novel goddesses, dramatize Beardsley’s ideas. The complete novel should be published this year, provided my courage does not abandon me.
Goddesses make us free
Gods and Goddesses, they are there to let our hair down. They allow us to represent a bit of our character, which otherwise would not find an outlet. They appeal to the non-Christian part of us today, as they did to the early Christians 1,000 years ago. Waldemar is right. They free us from the hook, but in doing so, they keep us on the hook. Let off steam sometimes, is the message. A little of what you like is good for you.
Bolen defines women as character types, using goddesses. If that sounds trite, read her book.
What about the Green Man?
We all love a mystery and the Green Man remains one. We have no idea of its symbolic meaning in pre-Christian society. Why was it so popular with Gothic church builders? Most mysterious is its enduring popularity as a garden ornament. What position in our character does he personify? We don’t know, but we all like to be a little mysterious. That is also a character trait.