he knew to be none other than Venus. He descended to her
palace in the heart of the mountain, and there passed seven
years in careless revelry. Then, stricken with remorse and
yearning for another glimpse of the pure light of day, he
called in agony upon the Virgin Mother, who took compassion on
him and released him. He sought a village church, and to
priest after priest confessed his sin, without obtaining
absolution, until finally he had recourse to the Pope. But the
holy father, horrified at the enormity of his misdoing,
declared that guilt such as his could never be remitted sooner
should the staff in his hand grow green and blossom. "Then
Tannhauser, full of despair and with his soul darkened, went
away, and returned to the only asylum open to him, the
Venusberg. But lo! three days after he had gone, Pope Urban
discovered that his pastoral staff had put forth buds and had
burst into flower. Then he sent messengers after Tannhauser,
and they reached the Horsel vale to hear that a wayworn man,
with haggard brow and bowed head, had just entered the
Horselloch. Since then Tannhauser has not been seen." (p.
201.)

[16] Baring-Gould, Curious Myths, Vol. I. p. 197.

As Mr. Baring-Gould rightly observes, this sad legend, in its
Christianized form, is doubtless descriptive of the struggle
between the new and the old faiths. The knightly Tannhauser,
satiated with pagan sensuality, turns to Christianity for
relief, but, repelled by the hypocrisy, pride, and lack of
sympathy of its ministers, gives up in despair, and returns to
drown his anxieties in his old debauchery.