Tannhäuser and Venus – Still showstoppers
The recently completed Tannhäuser revival at the Deutsche Oper, Berlin, broke all records for nonsense, but it is the production we will remember. Was it the 40 hospital beds on stage for the exhausted returning pilgrims, or the 20 armors that were raised and lowered randomly, during the 3 hours, sometimes replaced by a set of demons? Silly theater can be so powerful!
During the overture, Tannhäuser (played by a stuntman) descends about 50 feet from the top of the stage, waving his arms and legs. It takes him several minutes to descend into a sea of female flesh, albeit with artificial breasts. I suppose there cannot be a female choir, so well endowed, without a single wobble in sight. I wondered what women in full Tannhäuser armor would do once he was under the sea of limbs. I was not disappointed. During the bronze crescendo, pieces of armor were thrown from the depths and then the real, exhausted Tannhäuser appeared, ready for his home 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 Tannhäuser a key figure in Wagner’s opera? I think it is because it is a good vehicle for the artist to express her 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 magnificent Green Man? Würzburg Cathedral has a Green Man dominating 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 that I would like to try. In his fascinating BBC4 program on the Middle Ages, he noted that early depictions of Christ gave him a feminine, or at least a very youthful, face. 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 50% of the population, who were women. To avoid this, artists often opted for an androgynous Jesus. The later version, after the cult of Mary, of Jesus with the face of Jupiter, was designed to bring the pagans on board, without separating them from their old religion.
Once one begins to search, Waldemar’s argument holds up in many settings.
The feminine side of Saint George is beautifully represented in numerous early 15th century sculptures by Bernd Notke. Katherine’s 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 George woman another example of the youthful Jesus?
It didn’t happen in a day.
During early Christianity, there were still pockets of pagan sympathy, and faith in gods like Venus was a starting point between pagans and full Christians. Venus helped keep the new Christians in their old comfort zone. Jugglers and poets used it to express aspects of their characters that were no longer acceptable as medieval Christian talk. Was an androgynous Saint George a useful comforter for both sexes? Why did Venus reappear so many years after her disappearance as a Roman goddess?
The theory is that the Middle Ages was not as Christian as our history lessons would have us believe. For example, the Slavic King Jaczo, reigned over the area that we now call Berlin Brandenburg. He crossed over to Christianity in 1154. It was then that, with his horse sinking exhausted in the Havel, he made some test prayers to various deities. Things got better after calling Christ and they helped his horse get to the riverbank. He decided to become a follower, but did he abandon his three-headed pagan god Triglav, right away? Probably not. We all need islands of safety within our vision, before we can make the leap.
Wagner and Venus
It is time to apply Waldemar’s theory to Wagner’s Tannäuser. Wagner merged two medieval sagas for his opera. Other than that, it stayed (almost) true to the original threads.
Venus lived on Venusberg, somewhere in what is now Thuringia. Tannhäuser told Venus that he wanted to leave her, because he missed the sky and the song of the birds. The Venusberg was underground, on a mountain, rather than on it, and was hidden from mortals. Hold that thought. The protruding bone, which supports female pubic hair, is called mons veneris in anatomy – Latin for the mons pubis. In the saga, the men who entered Venusberg accepted doom.
Suppose Venus and Tannhäuser were in a vast cavern, tended to by as much voluptuous meat as a man could want to behold and taste. It may have too much of a good thing, apparently. Tannhäuser, after an hour of operatic wailing, shouting and accusation, leaves Venus and returns to Wartburg. This medieval castle is on a mountain in Thuringia, and it’s where the rest of the operatic action takes place. The room can still be visited. In Wartburg, he rediscovers his love for Elizabeth, the symbol of Christian feminine purity. She is waiting to be taken over and dominated by an honorable gentleman. Tannhäuser, a gentleman and minstrel, had been the man of his dreams, before he went testing without a wallet at the Venusberg.
Tannhäuser gets caught up 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 of pure love, without lust. Tannhäuser blows a gasket and tells them that a little lust for meat doesn’t hurt anyone. Elizabeth is excited about the idea. Tannhäuser gets carried away and admits a stay at Venusberg. They return the castle to him and tell him to join the pilgrims heading to Rome to see if such a sin can ever be forgiven.
Elizabeth’s libido, in her dreams
Today the same soprano sings Venus and Elizabeth, with the same costume and makeup. We have to ask ourselves: 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 side of her femininity? Was this a match made on the Venusberg, rather than in heaven? We never found out. Tannhäuser leaves the distraught Elizabeth wondering what could have been. She accepts that her husband must be presentable and accepts that he must go to Rome. Pray for the Pope’s forgiveness.
Amazing redemption
Tannhäuser returns from Rome and recounts the words of Pope Urban IV. Such a heinous sin, like Urban’s staff, is so likely to be forgiven so that leaves will sprout. Elizabeth sinks to the ground exhausted. Wolfram covers her with a shroud. Tannhäuser wants to return to the Venusberg, Elizabeth rises from under the shroud. Now she is Venus and she tries to seduce him. Wolfram restrains Tannhäuser and prevents him from approaching Venus. Tannhäuser dies, when the pilgrims enter to declare that the staff has sprouted leaves: Tannhäuser is forgiven and can join Elizabeth in heaven.
Accept sexual desire
In 19th century Europe, many men believed that if women had a sexual drive, they were whores. No one asked the question, was Tannhäuser blameless, when he and Venus engaged in the 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 it back to the Venusberg, and the staff yet cabbages. 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, especially in Tristan and Isolde, although he let the love potion take responsibility for Isolde’s unbridled behavior. Nobody is fooled today. We know that Tristan and Isolde are in love with each other, long before the love potion is administered.
Why did Wagner go for the soft ending in his version of Tannhäuser? These operas divided society. Tannhäuser’s Parisian premiere (1861) was a disaster and shattered by public protests, because the dance was in the wrong place and disturbed gastronomic customs. Perhaps, with such an audience, the medieval ending was unthinkable. Lovers had to go to heaven, not the Venusberg!
Jean Shinoda Bolen, in her Jungian analysis of the role of goddesses in our lives, defines Venus as the woman with a serious sex drive. I left my copy of Bolen’s ‘Goddesses in Everywoman’ in a prominent place in my house. No visitor has managed to pass the book without stopping and taking a look. We all need a little pagan!
Venus goes to other places
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 slim volume, 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. It describes Tannhäuser’s entry into the Venusberg and the great antics that followed. It is pure obscenity and a lot of fun. Another reason we need Venus: to remind us that life is to be enjoyed and you never know what you might like until you have tried it.
I couldn’t resist Venus and Tannhäuser either. The lovers, in my novel Goddesses Role play of Beardsley’s ideas. The complete novel should be published this year, as long as my courage does not leave me.
Goddesses set us free
Gods and goddesses, they are there to let us let our hair down. They allow us to represent a bit of our character, which otherwise would not find a way out. They appeal to the non-Christian part of us today, as they did to the early Christians 1000 years ago. Waldemar is right. They let us off the hook, but in doing so they keep us on the hook. Sometimes venting is the message. A little bit of what you like is good for you.
Bolen defines women as types of characters, using goddesses. If that sounds trite, read his book.
And the Green Man?
We all love a mystery and the Green Man remains one. We have no idea of its symbolic significance 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 does it embody in our character? We don’t know, but we all like to be a bit mysterious. That is also a character trait.