Pygmalion's Statue

Mythology is not lacking in tales of punished vice. But so too is it abundant with tales of rewarded virtue. Humility could as readily reward you with joy as Pride could punish you with retribution. This is the story of one such humble man who harboured a dream which came true.

Pygmalion at work in his studio
Painting by Jean Baptiste Regnault

There was once on the isle of Cyprus the seedling of a dangerous idea. In the city of Amathus there lived an accursed crowd, the Propoetides by name. A godless crew, drunk on the riches that the veins of gold in the Earth had bestowed upon them, they soon began to turn away from their gods. Numberless were their heresies, but one graver than all the rest. An array of women, the daughters of Propoetus, dared to deny the existence of the goddess Venus, the lady of desire. To Venus, this was deeply blasphemous. "With just abhorrence, and with wrath purs'd", the goddess was unleashed. But seeing no reason to inflict vengeance on the innocent pastures and cities of her former lands, she bent her anger on the daughters, the sinners themselves. Blasted from their mind was their remaining sense of dignity, honour and shame. Outcast from the people, and shunned by society the Propoetides took to prostitution, the first to do so, and the first to feel the blind eye of fellow men and women, "the first that sold their lewd embraces for gold... unknowing how to blush, and shameless grown."

There was, however, one man in particular who bore witness to their dread crimes. A lonely but noble spirited young man, Pygmalion was his name. A poor sculptor, Pygmalion spent his life crafting the forms of the divine, his chisel hewing perfection out of the coarse stone. While his craft was widely admired, and his skills with marble adored, he lived a life cut off from society. One day in Amathus, Pygmalion caught a glimpse of the apostate Propetides. Rarely entering the city, he was appalled at the heinous debauchery on display that day. Shocked to his very core, he resolved never to have anything further to do with womankind, and abhorred marriage, convinced that there was not one well spirited woman in all the world.

Pygmalion admires his work
Sculpture by Étienne Maurice Falconet 

Wracked with hopeless longing, Pygmalion turned to his one true solace. Taking up his chisel and hammer, he began to hew a new ivory block. Tears came as he struck the matter, the artist carving out some new image of perfection. Working day and night, Pygmalion, fearing idleness lest it remind him of his plight, worked harder and harder, and shards of ivory flew hither and thither across the master's workshop. Scarcely could Nature herself have bettered Pygmalion's craft, so fine were his cuts and smooth the polished surface. Ever pious to the deities on high, the sculptor made sure that the summit of the sculpture was carved finely too, where man could not see but the gods could. "Pleas'd with his idol, he commends, admires, adores; and last, the thing ador'd, desires". At last, Pygmalion set down his chisel and hammer, and stepped back from his masterpiece. So great had been the sculptor's skill, he was taken in by his own art. Stood before him was the image of a perfect maiden, pure and serene, untroubled by vice, unburdened with guilt. At any moment she might have stepped down from her pedestal, so incredibly lifelike was she. Such perfection was there, and such pollution in the real world! With this realisation, Cupid's arrow struck, and Pygmalion could never look at his beloved statue with anything but deep longing.

The day soon came, however, for the feast of Venus on Cypriot shores. A sombre day to which quiet prayers were owed, the day was a chance for all Cypriots to honour the goddess they had once scorned. Gild horned bulls were lead through the streets, slaughtered and by the high altars they bled. Pygmalion, however, shunned the procession and came to the shrine of Venus, and bowed before the image of the goddess.


            " Almighty Gods, if all we mortals want,
              If all we can require, be yours to grant;
              Make this fair statue mine, he wou'd have said,
              But chang'd his words for shame; and only pray'd,
              Give me the likeness of my iv'ry maid... "
                   - PYGMALION'S PRAYER

Galatea born
Painting by Jean Raoux

Terrible was the sound of Pygmalion's grief. Mere silence, as a tear rolled down his grizzled cheek. But high on Olympus' lofty heights, Venus heard his sadness, and her divine heart was moved beyond pity.Hearing his prayer, and knowing the true prayer that lay in Pygmalion's heart, the goddess recognised that there was one in that accursed land who was a true and noble servant of Heaven. The altar flame roared, and the fire rose high, and Pygmalion leapt back, suddenly afraid. Daring to hope, longing perhaps, he dashed back home. There she was still, in harmony, glazed eyes and fixed stare, his beloved statue. So afire was Pygmalion, he ran to embrace the statue. Feeling at first the cold hard ivory he despaired. But swiftly did his despair turn to ecstasy. For at his touch, he felt the ivory soften, saw the whiteness lessen, the cold white lips redden, the coldness warm. The Blessing of Venus passed to the statue, as the goddess's gift was bestowed upon humble Pygmalion. Ivory no more, but living flesh. Stony silence no more, but beating pulse. Frozen stance no more, but animated form. The transformation complete, Pygmalion and his statue stared at each other, robbed of words. Barely a moment of tranquillity passed before each ran to embrace the other, and Venus smiled. Pygmalion, his deepest wish granted, gave the woman a name, Galatea. The two were wed, and scarcely has such devotion been seen among the domains of men. Pygmalion and Galatea had a son, Paphos, and the House of Pygmalion lived a life of joy 'till the end of days.

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

United States

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

The Blood of Adonis

Many a time in ancient lore did a mortal fall afoul of the gods, for offences slight or grievous. Often did the Olympians strike back with overwhelming vengeance, so as to discourage insubordination in the future, and preserve the pristine honour of Heaven. But just sometimes, that vengeance rebounded upon its creator, and gods would know the pain of mortals. The story of Adonis is one such example.

The Birth of Adonis
Painting by Marcantonio Franceschini

There was once Cinyras on the throne of Assyria, with his adoring Queen Cenchreis. The family had just one heir, their young daughter, Princess Myrrha. As they watched their daughter grew, the Royal Family and the Assyrians marvelled at her beauty. Some called it Heaven bestowed. Others good fortune. But when the time came when Myrrha came of age, Queen Cenchreis proudly boasted that her daughter's beauty surpassed even that of Venus herself. A glowing compliment for a daughter. A blasphemous offence to a goddess. High on Mount Olympus, the goddess heard her. Never had so terrible a wrath been wrought upon so innocent a crime. Such fury behind the fair face of Heaven's most beloved daughter. The goddess' righteous fury sped down from Olympus as a flash of lightning, delivering forbidden passion into the mind of the Princess. Venus condemned her, rebounding her natural passion upon her own family, and thereafter she would forever have eyes for only her father. Overcome with frenzied passion, disguised by her loyal maids, Myrrha pursued her father with all her energy, employing every trick of deception to fool him of her true identity. Dark was the hour of man when at last she caught her quarry. The following day, when King Cinyras discovered the identity of his seducer, he tore the sword from his scabbard and pursued her, devastated and outraged by her perverse corruption.

Maddened by grief and the affliction that cursed her mind, Myrrha resolved to end her life. She had just prepared the rope from which she would swing when her handmaiden stayed her hand. High on Olympus, Vengeful Venus at last knew pity, and decided to end her suffering. At the goddess' command, the Princess shifted and became a beautiful tree. Ever after mortals would call it the fairest in the grove, the most beautifully scented, the myrrh tree.

The Birth of Venus
Painting by  Nicolas Poussin

Eight months passed, and the world it seemed, lay in peace. Then, on the ninth, the tree burst asunder, revealing a baby boy who would be the envy of all men - Adonis. Pity still afflicted Venus, but when she cast her godly eye over the myrrh tree, all was forgotten when she saw the boy. Knowing immediately that he would grow to become the most handsome man who ever lived, she was at once obsessed with the boy. Fearing for harm that may come to the boy, she bound him in an adamant casket and entrusted it to Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, for there was no safer place than the Underworld, where all the bounty of the Earth ultimately hails. For many a year, young Adonis grew up and grew strong away from the light, but safe.

Adonis in glory
Painting by Benjamin West

Time soon passed, and a boy he was no more. Venus made the journey to reclaim the boy, but found trouble lay ahead. For Persephone fell immediately for Adonis' astonishing beauty, and had no intention of relinquishing her charge. But when Venus saw Adonis, man at last, she was stunned. The goddess of love felt her own power take hold of her, as Cupid's arrow struck her with irresistible force - a thing never to happen before. Profane love indeed, for Adonis was a cursed man. Conceived through incest, a violation of nature, the Fates had spun a finite thread for the fairest of all men. Both goddesses quarrelled intensively over him, until Jupiter the Thunderer, lord of Heaven and Earth, was forced to intercede. The King of the Gods ruled that for Adonis, the year would be divided three ways. Four months he would spend in the Underworld with Persephone, four with Venus, and four were to be given to him to do as he will. Both goddesses bowed at this compromise and eagerly prepared for their turn.

Venus and Adonis
Painting by Francois Lemoyne

Over time, however, it became apparent to which goddess Adonis himself preferred. Having grown up neverknowing the feel of the sun, the touch of grass nor the sound of birds singing, he could not wait to escape the world of Underland. The four precious months of his very own he therefore decided to spend with Venus too. Persephone fumed in Hades, Venus rejoiced on Earth. Many an hour did man and goddess spend together walking the pastures and forests of the Earth. A naturally athletic man, Adonis took to hunting, a noble pastime for men of the age. Soon both men and gods began to envy him. Mortal men longed for his looks and his muscles. Gods resented the affections of a goddess directed at a mortal. Jealous of Venus, Persephone revealed the affair to Mars, god of war and deeply smitten with Venus. Furious, the lord of battles and bloodshed plotted his vengeance on this upstart mortal. But far down on the Earth, Venus and Adonis were oblivious to all others, each perfect in all ways. Venus liked to watch Adonis hunt, but feared for him as his quarries grew mightier and mightier in stature. Eventually, fearing for his safety, she begged him not to hunt the wildest and most dangerous beasts. "Thus cautious Venus school'd her fav'rite boy; but youthful heat all cautions will destroy... his sprightly soul beyond grave counsels flies..."

The Death of Adonis
Painting by Luca Giordano

One hot summer's morning, Adonis awoke bright and early for the day's hunt. As the Sun rose higher in the day, the dogs caught a strange new scent, barking loudly. Adonis, eagerness peaked by the sound, seized his spear and set off on the chase into the scrub. The smell of sweat drew the hounds near, and there the object of his hunt lay. A mighty boar, powerfully built and sharply tusked, stood defiantly in the forest clearing. As soon as Adonis looked upon it, he was overcome with an urge to hunt it, claim it as the trophy of his prizes. No finer a beast had ever he seen, let alone caught. Some magic or other ill was at work that day, as thirst for glory drove the warnings of his beloved far from his mind. With a heart of valour, Adonis lifted his faithful spear, and with the strength of a hunter of prodigious skill, he hurled the metalled barb at the beast. A strange boar this war, for boar it was not. Shadow covered the glade, and in that moment the deception was laid bare. It was no common boar, nor any other beast of game, for there lay the war god himself in disguise. Terror chill gripped Adonis. Too late did he recall the words of Venus, and he turned to run. But one does not attack a god without consequence:


            " The trembling boy by flight his safety sought,
              and now recall'd the lore, which Venus taught;
              but now too late to fly the boar he strove,
              who in the groin his tusks impetuous drove,
              On the discolour'd grass Adonis lay,
              The monster trampling o'er his beauteous prey... "
                   - MARS' REVENGE

The Adonis River
Photograph taken by Adrien Valentine

A piercing scream rent the air apart and echoed through the valleys. To the godly bone it chilled Venus. Knowing all too well the voice, her heart froze. Fear gripped her fair body, an emotion few gods could say they knew, a terrible sensation at all times, yet worse when it is new. Immediately she sped to his side, as quietly Mars triumphantly stole away into the forest. Blood leaked from the tusk wound in the boy's side, and deathly was his pallor. Gentle groans emanated from his lips, tears from the eyes of Venus. The blood of Adonis ran through the nectar of the flowers, and where the droplets fell upon the earth, the anemone burst into life, brimming with colour. The river near where he lay ran red for many ages after, and to this day bears his name. So the curse of Adonis' family came to pass, and the ultimate revenge of Myrrha upon her tormentor. Ever after was Venus broken, though nine months later, she too gave birth, this time to daughter, Beroe. It is after this daughter that the city of Beirut is named...

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

United States

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)