er than man's, and that
Tannhaeuser is pardoned; all sing a song of praise, and the opera
terminates.

At the Dresden performances in 1845 this ending was cut, but that
Wagner reckoned it of the utmost importance is shown by a letter
written to Uhlig in 1851: "The reason for leaving out the announcement
of the miracle, in the Dresden change, was quite a local one: the
chorus was always bad, flat and uninteresting; also an imposing scenic
effect--a splendid, gradual sunrise was wanting." Now, in the
twentieth century, it is indeed hard to understand how an intellect so
keen as our Richard's, a dramatic and poetic instinct almost
infallible with regard to all other things, could have failed to see
and feel the absurdity of Elisabeth's death being necessary to
Tannhaeuser's salvation. Was it the only way to get rid of the lady--a
_pis aller_?--a last remnant of the old-fashioned technique? In the
original legend Tannhaeuser goes back to Venus: that would be
ineffective and leave Elisabeth's future unprovided for. On the other
hand, Wagner would never have selected the story for operatic
treatment at all had it not instantly shaped itself in his mind as it
now stands: he was, I say, obsessed by this notion of man's redemption
by woman; it was part of his creed and not to be questioned. So I
think that we must simply take it as it is, accepting Wagner's creed
for the moment as a necessary convention. At the same time let us
realize that it is an illogical development of the drama and not, as
the Wagnerites comically insist, the symbol of an eternal verity.
Allowing for the time occupied in mediaeval days by the journey from
Rome to the heart of Germany, the pope's staff must have burst into
leaf and flower long, long before Elisabeth's death. While she was
waiting for Tannhaeuser to come in with the first band of pilgrims, the
second band was already on its way with the token of his pardon. We
need not be too inquisitive and wonder why Tannhaeuser should be
expected back with the first band when he had set out with the second,
and why Elisabeth could not at least exercise a little patience and
wait for the second. The point is that she does not wait, but goes
home to die, and, dying, is supposed--as Wolfram explicitly states--to
redeem a sinner who is already redeemed. Her sacrifice is an act of
suicidal insanity due to her lacking the common sense to reflect that
Tannhaeuser might arrive with the second contingent; it is f