for Introduction to Literary Interpretation class, 2020
The whole of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “The Birth-Mark” is veined through from start to finish with the Greco-Roman myth of Pygmalion, to the point that it is practically a retelling, adaptation, or reinterpretation (one of countless many such – Pygmalion is practically archetypical).
Pygmalion is only explicitly invoked once, when Aylmer says to Georgiana, “Even Pygmalion, when his sculptured woman assumed life, felt not greater ecstasy than mine will be.”[1] However, Aylmer clearly fully fancies himself Pygmalion and Georgiana his ivory woman throughout the text.
For Aylmer, this ends poorly; for Pygmalion, it (remarkably for Greco-Roman myth) ends well, with love and marriage and a baby (named Paphos, who goes on to found the city of the same name[2])[3].
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The ivory woman is often known as “Galatea” (Greek, “she who is milk-white”) since Jean-Jacques Rousseau first gave her that name in his 1762 melodrama adaptation of the myth[4]; Ovid gives her no name but calls her “eburnea virgo” (Latin, “ivory maid”)[5].
It is not clear to me how one would go about carving a full-size woman out of a single tusk of ivory – either she was assembled from multiple tusks (a dauntingly expensive proposition in classical Cyprus, one ventures to suppose, though in some versions of the myth, Pygmalion was the king, and could presumably afford it), or “ivory” is meant (by more recent writers, though possibly not by Ovid) metaphorically or in reference to color, and the “ivory” woman was in fact carved from white stone, i.e., marble. Certainly, artists and sculptors through history, interpreting the myth of Pygmalion and his statue, have generally depicted her as carved from a block of marble (or, in the case of sculptors, have actually carved her likeness from a block of marble). For example, one of the most famous depictions in painting of this myth, Jean-Léon Gérôme’s Pygmalion and Galatea (shown, previous page)[6], has Galatea carved of marble.
This is relevant because, if we venture into the possibility space where Pygmalion’s sculpture was of marble, not literal elephant ivory, then the countless (actually three, but it initially seems countless once you realize what you’re looking for) comparisons of Georgiana (and/or her skin) to marble each become a potential reference to Pygmalion’s creation.
Specifically, the reference to “the Eve of [Hiram] Powers,” beautiful marble statuary, is one such possible allusion (it’s not of particular relevance that Powers never carved a Pygmalion and/or Galatea statue); as is the line referring to the mark as being “like a bas relief of ruby on the whitest marble;” and the line about the “crimson hand” being “strongly visible upon the marble paleness of Georgiana’s cheek.”[7]
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Of course, comparisons of Georgiana to marble statuary are only the barest surface scratch of the allusion to the myth of Pygmalion. More comparisons begin in the very first paragraph.
The scene in paragraph 1 where wherein Aylmer “left his laboratory to the care of an assistant, cleared his fine countenance from the furnace-smoke, washed the stain of acids from his fingers, and persuaded a beautiful woman to become his wife”[8] is Pygmalion, but in reverse. It is he who is transformed to mate, not the wife. Perhaps Aylmer has it in the back of his mind that, because he transformed himself (albeit temporarily) to acquire an ivory statue, it’s only fair that the ivory statue also be transformed for him.
Consider also this passage from the first paragraph of “The Birth-Mark”:
In those days […] it was not unusual for the love of science to rival the love of woman in its depth and absorbing energy. […] [Aylmer] had devoted himself […] too unreservedly to scientific studies ever to be weakened from them by any second passion. His love for his young wife might prove the stronger of the two; but it could only be by intertwining itself with his love of science and uniting the strength of the latter to his own.[9]
Now consider this passage from the first verse of “Pygmalion and the Statue” from Ovid’s Metamorphoses:
Pygmalion saw these women [the Propoetides[10]] waste their lives in wretched shame, and critical of faults which nature had so deeply planted through their female hearts, he lived in preference, for many years unmarried. But while he was single, with consummate skill, he carved a statue out of snow-white ivory, and gave to it exquisite beauty, which no woman of the world has ever equalled: she was so beautiful, he fell in love with his creation.[11]
In each passage, the subject loves his work more than he loves women – indeed, Pygmalion at least seems to quite dislike messy mortal fleshy human women, while Aylmer loves only Georgiana in particular, except for the one most human part of her. In each, the two categories – “his work” and “women” – are at some point one and the same.
I don’t think Aylmer loves his work/women in quite the same way as Pygmalion – Pygmalion seems to genuinely be in love with his ivory woman, who starts out as his work, his magnum opus, but diverges; whereas Aylmer is in love with Georgiana except for the little hand, which provides a reason – perhaps an excuse – to merge her with his work, to (he hopes, in vain) become his magnum opus.
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Aylmer’s lab assistant/servant, Aminadab, is described, in part, as follows: according to the narrator, there is an “indescribable earthiness that incrusted him”, and Aylmer calls him “thou human machine; […] thou man of clay” and “Ah, clod! ah, earthly mass!” and “matter” and “earth” (contrasting with himself, “spirit” and “heaven”) and “thing of the senses” (implicitly contrasting with himself, a thing of reason; and perhaps with Georgiana, a thing of beauty)[12] – which it is not entirely clear whether Aylmer means insultingly, affectionately, or simply descriptively.
Where Aylmer himself is Pygmalion, the sculptor, the intellect, the brain and spirit; and Georgiana is the statue of marble, of stone but better than perfect by virtue of the colored veins characteristic of her substance; Aminadab is raw earth, a clod of unshapen clay. Perhaps is it by virtue of his earthy kinship with Georgiana that Aminadab is capable of appreciating her birth-mark as contributive to her beauty, as where he says, “If she were my wife, I’d never part with that birth-mark”[13], whereas Aylmer, the sculptor, can see only imperfections in her material.
Is there a counterpart to Aminadab in the myth of Pygmalion? The myth is simple and short, so there are only a few candidates. He is probably not the Propoetides, women transformed by Venus to stone as punishment for general harlotry – the only overlap is in the earthy material that compose them. He is definitely not Venus, as he shows no creative power, although he does seem to aid Aylmer in his creative endeavors.
One possibility comes from Rousseau’s adaptation of the myth of Pygmalion – which was first performed in 1770, 73 years before “The Birth-Mark” (it was never Rousseau’s most prominent or esteemed work, especially outside of Europe, but Hawthorne could plausibly have been at least peripherally aware of it through the zeitgeist, so it could be a deliberate allusion on his part) – when Galatea comes to life, she touches herself and says, “me;” touches one of Pygmalion’s other sculptures and says, “not me;” then touches Pygmalion and says, “me again”[14]. Aminadab could be analogous to one of Pygmalion’s other sculptures, serving primarily to contrast with Georgiana/Galatea and Aylmer/Pygmalion.
Aylmer, too, could have been familiar with Rousseau’s Pygmalion; certainly, the point wherein Galatea indicates she is one person with Pygmalion should be well-taken with respect to his relationship with Georgiana. Though Aminadab certainly would have appreciated Georgiana more qua Georgiana, she is in the end a reflection of Aylmer – at least in Aylmer’s eyes, though he doesn’t seem to realize that’s how he’s treating her; and in her own eyes, intently reading up on Aylmer’s past work and willing to do anything for him just because he asks. Though Georgiana and Aminadab are both born of earth and Aylmer is a sculptor, she ultimately has more in common with her husband than with his assistant – or so Aylmer thinks.
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To try to replicate (or exceed) the work of the gods is to invite disaster. Aylmer attempts to replicate Venus’s work on Pygmalion’s ivory woman, and it ends poorly. To wit: Nature “permits us, indeed, to mar, but seldom to mend, and, like a jealous patentee, on no account to make.”[15] The line between mending and making is blurry, and I intend to blur it further.
Aylmer fancies himself a mender, fixing an imperfection in Georgiana’s natural beauty, but I posit that in fact he is attempting to make. For one thing, the birth-mark doesn’t actually detract from Georgiana’s beauty, but is in fact an example of what the Japanese call wabi-sabi, often translated as “imperfections that make a thing better than perfect.” (Perhaps everyone would have been better off if Aylmer had studied some Japanese.) Removing it, therefore, would mend nothing. A strong case could be argued that Aylmer is in fact marring Georgiana, but the results speak against that case: if this were marring, then Nature would permit it. Therefore, Aylmer is attempting to make – specifically, attempting to make a woman out of a different woman.
On the other end, though Pygmalion carved the material into shape – carving sculpture, I have heard it said, is very simple: all Pygmalion really did was chisel away everything that wasn’t a beautiful woman – it was Venus that made a living person. Nature, the gods – either way, they reserve the power of creation to themselves.
So, my position is this: Pygmalion succeeded because he merely mended a block of material into the shape a woman and allowed a higher power to take care of the work of making it into actually a woman. Aylmer failed because, with great hubris, he attempted to make a woman into a new woman, usurping the prerogatives of the higher powers. (The woman Aylmer was using as material, one might point out, had already been given to him by Venus, as Pygmalion’s ivory woman was, so this is additionally the crime of snubbing a divine gift.)
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In short, shades of Pygmalion color “The Birth-Mark” from top to bottom. From repeated raw physical description of Georgiana as like marble, to certain details (small and major) of the story lining up, “The Birth-Mark” is virtually a straight-up retelling of the myth of Pygmalion. The main difference is that Hawthorne’s adaptation ends in tragedy, where the original ends in joy.
Works Cited
Gérôme, J.-L. (1890). Pygmalion and Galatea. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.Hawthorne, N. (1843). The Birth-Mark. In K. J. Mays (Ed.), The Norton Introduction to Literature, Shorter 12th Edition (pp. 339-350). New York, London: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc.
Ovid. (8). Metamorphōseōn librī. Book 10, lines 243-297. Retrieved October 11, 2020, from http://data.perseus.org/citations/urn:cts:latinLit:phi0959.phi006.perseus-lat1:10.243-10.297
Ovid. (8, 1922). Metamorphoses. Book 10, lines 243-297. (B. More, Trans.) Retrieved October 11, 2020, from http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=urn:cts:latinLit:phi0959.phi006.perseus-eng1:10.243-10.297
Rousseau, J.-J. (1762). Pygmalion.