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Updated: May 13, 2025


When one arises among us, who, like Pygmalion, makes no useless appeal to the Goddess of Beauty for the gift of life for his Ideal, and who creates as he was created, we cherish him as a great interpreter of human love. We call him poet, composer, artist, and speak of him reverently as Master.

"Pygmalion," he began slowly, "turned his statue into a real woman; I turned my real woman into a picture. Small compensation, you think but you don't know how much of a woman belongs to you after you've painted her! Well, I made the best of it, at any rate I gave her the best I had in me; and she gave me in return what such a woman gives by merely being.

Venus blessed the nuptials she had formed, and from this union Paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred to Venus, received its name. Schiller, in his poem, the Ideals, applies this tale of Pygmalion to the love of nature in a youthful heart. In Schiller's version, as in William Morris's, the statue is of marble.

Beneath your feet the ship, which has seemed until this moment as solid as a rock, stirs the least little bit, as though it had waked up. And now a shiver runs all through it and you are reminded of that passage from Pygmalion and Galatea where Pygmalion says with such feeling: She starts; she moves; she seems to feel the thrill of life along her keel. You are under way.

"W'at," said the eldest of the dark-faced, black haired British blondes of Jewish race, "w'at are we going to give at Montrehal?" "We're going to give 'Pygmalion, at Montrehal," answered the British blonde of American birth, good-humoredly burlesquing the erring h of her sister.

As to abolishing the old Colonel, this too presents its difficulties, for Sir Norman Henry and all the celebrated cocked-hats at home and abroad look upon the Indian Staff Corps as Pygmalion looked on his Venus.

Satisfied with having made a rough sketch of my plan, I returned to the situations in detail, which I had marked out; and from the arrangement I gave them resulted the first two parts of the Eloisa, which I finished during the winter with inexpressible pleasure, procuring gilt-paper to receive a fair copy of them, azure and silver powder to dry the writing, and blue narrow ribbon to tack my sheets together; in a word, I thought nothing sufficiently elegant and delicate for my two charming girls, of whom, like another Pygmalion, I became madly enamoured.

The Morning Post, 10th December, 1883. "'Pygmalion and Galatea, a play in which Miss Mary Anderson is said to have scored her most generally accepted success in her own country, has now taken at the Lyceum the place of 'The Lady of Lyons, a drama certainly not well fitted to the young actress' capabilities. Mr.

As Pygmalion loved Galatea: it was for them a lover in marble and they waited for the breath of life to animate that breast, for the blood to color those veins. There remained then, the present, the spirit of the time, angel of the dawn who is neither night nor day; they found him seated on a lime sack filled with bones, clad in the mantle of egoism, and shivering in terrible cold.

Pygmalion, as we all know, first departed from the rigid outline of ancient sculpture, and impressed life and motion upon marble. The poets, in praise of him, have told us that his ardent wishes warmed a statue into a lovely and breathing woman. The fable is fanciful and pleasing in itself; but will it not hereafter be believed as reality?

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