Galatea Awakens

"She's at it again!"

Artemis halted her purposeful stride across the gardens of Zeus' palace to glare contemptuously at Aphrodite, who was posed picturesquely on a bench in a rose bower, amusing herself with her magic mirror.

"Love, love, love!" Artemis muttered. "That's all she thinks about, all she cares about, and the whole world is topsy-turvey as a result. Why Father Zeus would consider it necessary to beget her is beyond me."

She shook her head and meant to continue on her way; but, despite her best intentions, her feet were drawn back towards the goddess of love, who was completely absorbed in gazing into her mirror. Artemis did not particularly enjoy Aphrodite's company; however, since it was her mission to promote chastity, it was absolutely essential to keep an eye on her prime rival, who would stop at nothing to coax devotees into her fold.

"And what mischief are you plotting now?" Artemis asked acerbically, leaning her bow carefully against the bench before she sat down. The only thing that irritated her more than Aphrodite's priorities was the utter stupidity of humans who accepted them as their own.

"Pygmalion has just finished singing his latest ode to Galatea," Aphrodite informed her, tilting the mirror so that Artemis could see. "The nicest one yet, full of praise for me. Look -- he's kissing her feet!"

Artemis snorted contemptuously. "Pygmalion again! I might have known! I can't understand your fascination with someone who thinks he's in love with a statue."

She considered Pygmalion a fortress of egotism, believing that the sculpture he had created represented the most wondrous female in existence. But he was Aphrodite's most cherished worshipper.

"Such ardor!" Aphrodite said dreamily. "I am inclined to grant him his heart's desire."

"He's a lovesick fool! He barely eats or sleeps, and he has given up working altogether! See how his apprentice's eyes are glazed over with boredom. He is supposed to be learning the carver's craft..."

"He is learning what it means to worship me," Aphrodite said. "That should satisfy him, for nothing else is so essential to a happy life. There will be time enough to chisel stones later."

"That apprentice has been coming to my temple of late," Artemis retorted. "He has no need of your nonsense."

"There you go again, reviling what you do not understand. Without the arts of love, my dear, there would be no one to populate the earth -- or Mount Olympus, for that matter."

"And how will he procreate while he is so occupied in making love to a statue?"

"If I were to give her flesh, there is not telling what wonders might result. I'll warrant they would be the happiest couple on earth."

"If you gave her flesh, Pygmalion would come to hate her before the moon has reached its fullness again." Artemis rose, snatched up her bow, and began to stride off in the direction of the palace.

"Wait!"

Artemis paused, smiling to herself. Aphrodite was clever enough, in an underhanded sort of way, but she was easily baited.

"Do you mean to tell me that if I gratify his deepest longing, he will come to hate what he has created?"

"He is living in fantasy. The reality will quickly kill it. If you give her any free will at all, she will quickly see that enslaving herself to a man is a foolish business for any woman."

Aphrodite stamped her foot. "Very well. I will show you." She held the mirror close to her eyes and began to concentrate.

"Hold! Of course she'll follow you if you make her exactly like you. Let me add something of myself."

"What will you contribute?"

"Intellect and will. I will leave you emotion and intuition. And while we're at it, we may as well call in Athena for a large helping of wisdom."

"Only if Apollo can add his artistic gifts..."

After bickering back and forth for several days (eternal life is the burden of deities, and they must always devise some diversion to pass the time), the two goddesses spun a soul for Galatea from their own essences and those of their fellow divinities. They agreed that neither would interfere with the unfolding of Galatea's life.

"An oath," Artemis insisted. "An oath before the All-Seeing. May he strike us with his thunderbolts if we break our bargain."

"I see no point in this whatsoever," Aphrodite whined. "It is just a simple wager. Besides, Daddy would never strike me with a thunderbolt."

"Don't be so sure. He's been letting you get away with far too much lately, and you are due for a lesson. And if it is to be a wager, what are the stakes?"

"I will not trouble your initiates with dreams of love sport for a full year. And you?"

"I will send six of my most ardent worshippers to your temple to be instructed in your ways."

"Done! You are indeed sure of yourself."

"Why not? Pygmalion is not in love -- he is merely worshipping himself in his own creation. Once she has a personality of her own, he will quickly lose interest."

* * * Pygmalion was covering the hand of his beloved with kisses when he felt it grow soft in his. He looked up, awe-struck. The white marble flushed with rosy pink as it was transformed to living flesh. The hair he had sculpted so painstakingly softened and darkened, and tumbled out of its elaborate arrangement over Galatea's shoulders.

He was so overcome that he stayed on his knees, watching the face he loved gain softness and mobility. He searched for words, but could find none worthy of the occasion.

Galatea stared wonderingly around her, down at her devoted swain, and then at her own body. Her eyes widened.

"I have nothing to wear!"

"My love," Pygmalion pleaded, rising from his knees, "my love -- you are so wondrously lovely that I could not bear to cover even the tiniest bit." He tried to kiss her tenderly, but she pushed him away.

"Find me something to wear. Now!" she commanded. "And turn your back!"

Ganymede!" Pygmalion snapped at his apprentice, who had dozed off. He kicked him with mighty frustration.

"Ganymede, go to my sister's house and ask to borrow one of her dresses. And not a word to anyone!"

Ganymede threw a startled look at the animated statue and scurried away.

"I think you could treat him more kindly than that," Galatea remonstrated, sitting down on a small half-carved block of marble.

"He is my apprentice!" Pygmalion snarled. "It is his job to stay awake until he is needed."

The ensuing conversation was most unsatisfactory. When Ganymede returned with the dress, they were standing as far from each other as possible, their faces like thunderclouds.

"A little fussy -- but I suppose it will have to do," Galatea said, slipping the garment over her head. "Now, if you could fetch me a little food and show me where I am to sleep, I will eat and rest for a while. Remember, I have been standing for over a year."

Pygmalion led her to his own bed, but was soundly rebuffed. She elected to sleep in Ganymede's tiny cubicle, while the poor apprentice had to content himself with a pallet in the studio.

While the newly awakened statue snored softly, Pygmalion paced the whole night through, pouring his passion into yet another cycle of poems.

When Galatea awoke in the morning, she listened indifferently to his first four offerings while she munched her breakfast, then grew restless.

"I wish to go to the market."

"No need, love. Ganymede can fetch everything we need, and we can concentrate on each other."

"I don't want to concentrate on you. I want to see the world beyond these walls!"

"My love, you cannot. People would talk..."

Their first argument was long and bitter. Pygmalion won, because he had the key to the door and was not about to relinquish it, but there was little conversation afterwards. At the first opportunity, Galatea prevailed on Ganymede to cut her hair shorter, like a boy's, and left quietly while Pygmalion was asleep, wearing one of his tunics and his second-best sandals.

Pygmalion searched the town frantically for two days, and finally found her at the market place, where she was bargaining for powdered bone, mercury, and other strange goods. She was a rather convincing boy, but he knew her immediately. A master always knows the work of his hands.

"Come home, my love," he urged. "I need you!"

"I cannot. I have work with Gerygmas the alchemist."

"What? What could you possibly do for him?"

"I am very useful. He said I am the best apprentice he has ever had."

Pygmalion went home to drown himself in wave after wave of heart-broken mourning. He sent Ganymede to Gerygmas' house daily with flowers, fruit, poems, and desperate messages announcing his imminent demise if he was deprived of her love. All were returned, along with the borrowed clothes and sandals. Some weeks later, Ganymede brought back word the Galatea had left the great workshop of Gerygmas. Once again, Pygmalion embarked on a feverish search.

This time he found her in the courtyard of a large house, dressed in womanly attire. She had joined a group of women who had banded together to weave and spin and sew and sell their wares. "It turned out that Gerygmas has a strong taste for boys," she informed him. "He was most dismayed when he found out that I was not what he thought."

"Please come home. You are my inspiration. Without you, I cannot work -- or live," he urged desperately.

"Oh, stop it! You are old enough to be my father, for heaven's sake!"

Pygmalion flinched. He had become very sensitive about his advancing age since his hair had begun to fall out. When he was creating his ideal love object, it had seemed perfectly natural to present her in the flush of early maidenhood. After all, the love of one's dreams is perpetually young.

"Come," he said again. "I will give you anything you wish."

"I wish to be left alone. And I think you would be much happier if you went back to your carving."

Pygmalion mooned about for several days more, composing poems and watching Galatea from afar. Then he picked up his hammer and chisel and began to work on a large piece of alabaster marble.

"My masterpiece," he proclaimed, becoming more cheerful by the moment. "This will be my masterpiece."

* * * "Pregnant?" Artemis screamed. "How can she be pregnant?"

"Well -- Ganymede invited her to go swimming with him one evening, and one thing led to another..." Aphrodite smiled wickedly.

"Ganymede? He is only a child!"

"Seventeen summers -- eighteen by the time the baby comes. More than old enough."

"You cheated! Zeus must have been momentarily distracted, and you took advantage!"

"It was not necessary to cheat. Like it or not, even hard-headed women of good sense are wont to worship me when they have found the right man."

The two goddesses peered into the mirror. Galatea was trying on her wedding finery. Although Artemis would never have admitted it to her rival goddess, the future bride was radiant, more beautiful than she had ever been as a statue.

"I am going to the wedding," Aphrodite said. "Will you come too?"

"Wherever will they live?" Artemis asked, ignoring the invitation. After all, it would never do for a virginal goddess to show up at a wedding.

"Pygmalion is letting them use the guest house until Ganymede has completed his apprenticeship."

"Pygmalion? He is not threatening to do away with himself in the river?"

"Not at all. He has sculpted himself another statue, more beautiful yet, and worships her day and night." Aphrodite preened. "She looks much as I did when I was first born from the sea."

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