Angelica Medlin
“Ogres have layers,” titular character Shrek tries explaining to his Donkey companion in the 2001 DreamWorks film Shrek. Shrek the Ogre, who both relies on the stereotypes surrounding his species to stay in isolation but also resents the role of monster in which he is placed, wants the people and creatures around him to understand he is more than others’ perceptions of him. Yet the structure around fairy tale land, from which Shrek comes from, does not normally leave room for characters to move outside their roles. The Prince is supposed to marry the Princess. The Hero must fight the Dragon or the monster. The Villain must be defeated, and the protagonists must live happily ever after. But not every character wishes for a passive part in someone else’s story, and not every fairy tale follows a traditional format. In fact, many fairy-tale creators have flipped the classic structure farther back than Shrek’s romp into the world of monster-protagonist. Stories like The Brothers Grimm and Penelope also emerge in fairy tale popular culture, yet none are considered classic fairy tales. English playwright George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion, whichfirst appeared on stage in 1913, follows this same pattern. The play tells the tale of Eliza Doolittle, a poverty-stricken flower girl with dreams of owning her own flower shop. She meets rich bachelor Henry Higgins, an expert in verbal language who promises to transform Eliza into a woman of high society by teaching her to speak like one. Yet the tale of transformation is neither straightforward nor classic in structure. Pygmalion purposely utilizes the guise of classic fairy-tale structures to teach updated lessons about marriage and gender roles that would have otherwise been explicitly rejected by English society.
Fairy tales, with their cultural, historical, and regional variations, can best be defined by a few similar criteria. A girl may meet a monster in the woods, an evil stepmother may be punished for mistreating her stepdaughter, and children may be gobbled up by witches. But at their foundation, fairy tales are a specific version of storytelling which “are inevitably shaped by the historical period in which they are published,” according to Laurence Talairach-Vielmas (272). They are reflections of the thoughts, ideologies, and questions of the cultures who created them, and this means fairy tales are often based on earlier mythologies – such as Perrault’s Cinderella and the Greek Pygmalion – or periods of great political or social unrest (273). French fairy tales were especially influenced by political unrest, and leaps in early feminist movements in the eighteenth century. It is no surprise the English, who were largely receiving these stories from France during this time, shook a disapproving head at the exploration of disparities among the lower and upper class which French fairy tales no longer shied away from. As Jennifer Schacker explains, it is largely the creation of stage pantomimes in the nineteenth century that allowed fairy tales to be performed on the English stage during the Victorian era (154). Until then, fairy tales were not to be taken seriously beyond enforcing Victorian ideals like chastity and the domesticity of women.
But to make the case that Pygmalion is any category of fairy tale, it is important to understand why the play can be compared to fairy tales at all, and we have to look at stories about princesses like Cinderella to do so. Cinderella is an incredibly well-known fairy tale. Charles Berst reminds us that some of the earliest known versions date back at least a thousand years. These different versions do include similar narrative choices like evil stepmothers, dead mothers, and a Prince who uses a shoe or slipper to identify the titular character (7). Above all, Berst reminds us that Cinderella is always a girl who succeeds in joining the upper class, combining the “graciousness of a lady” with the well-mannered morals of a woman worthy of a better life (8). She remains kind even in the face of mistreatment by her stepmother and stepsisters. She returns home in time to clean and cook for the household at the precise time she is told. Even still, the Prince manages to find her, they wed, and she becomes a true princess. This is a specific transformative structure which Robert Baum explores more in depth, examining how Pygmalion is steeped in Cinderella pathos, the play encompassing the narrative of a woman who joins the upper class once she is deemed worthy (by the Prince figure) (70-71). And Baum is not alone in his fairy tale comparisons. J. Ellen Gainor does not compare Pygmalion to Cinderella, but rather compares the play to Snow White, another classic princess fairy tale with nearly as extensive a history as Cinderella. In fact, Snow White encompasses many similar and key tropes to Cinderella, including a woman left destitute, evil stepmothers, and magical transformations, which we will return to later.
Traditional princess fairy tales like Snow White and Cinderella taught women that being poised, chaste, and domestic were desirable traits which led to marrying the Prince. And as Talairach-Vielmas reminds us, all stories teach lessons, a sentiment not felt by him alone. Katalin Iles and Howard Harris, who write extensively about the importance of storytelling as building blocks for culture and society, emphasize that all stories teach lessons about morality and ethics (170-172). In fact, most stories follow several distinguished and common plot structures to conduct this teaching, and fairy tales are no exception. The pair specifically refer to seven narrative categories in their work as outlined by Thomas Booker: hero, rags to riches, the quest, voyage and return, comedy, tragedy, and rebirth. Unsurprisingly, Cinderella and Snow White fit rather neatly into the Rags to Riches narrative category “which is most recognizably linked with the development of ethics…and with personal transformation including the development of [virtues]” (175). Both princess fairy tales, and rags to riches stories, seek to illustrate these personal transformations and development of ethics and morals. As we begin to explore in the next few paragraphs, the same can be said for Shaw’s Pygmalion.
One of the biggest indications that Pygmalion purposely borrows from princess fairy tale structures is the title, as it would have been the first narrative choice audiences encountered before viewing the play itself. In addition to this, the play is not just named Pygmalion, but rather, Pygmalion: A Romance in Five Acts. This titling choice first invokes the plot of the original Pygmalion myth, which tells the story of Pygmalion, a talented sculptor who creates the statue of a woman so beautiful, he prays to Aphrodite to make her a real woman that he can love and marry. While this tale may seem positive at first glance, it is actually a story which highlights the control men had over a woman’s future, and how marriage enabled this. After all, Pygmalion’s affection directly determines Galatea’s future, and is a perfect example of a transformation by marriage (with a magical twist). Considering England’s focus on the virtue of woman, the importance of marriage, and the adherence to the sphere of domesticity during this time, it makes sense that a story (whether play, book, or other) would have to utilize these images to be successful. The English fully expected lessons that were relevant to their culture, and the title Pygmalion alone signals these assumed lessons. But A Romance in Five Acts not only signals the adherence to these traditional values, it signals to the audience that the story is going to be a romance. It signals to the audience that (at least two of) the characters will fall in love with each other and, by extension, will more than likely get married. Pygmalion by itself tells the audience that they will be encountering a transformative narrative, but “romance” solidifies that this transformation will be possible through a marriage plot. And it is through the character representations in the play which almost prove that Shaw’s Pygmalion falls into a classic fairy tale structure.
While there are many characters in the play who fill fairy tale roles, Eliza and Higgins are the best examples of this phenomenon. For one, Victorian women, and even Edwardian woman, had to be traditionally feminine. Etiquette was mandatory, corsets stiff enough to turn waists into hourglasses were required, and women were expected to let the man handle difficult life decisions such as business and finances. These are certainly roles that both Eliza and Higgins seem to fit. In Act I and II, it is difficult to see Eliza as anything but a damsel in distress. Like Cinderella, she is immediately destitute. Her moniker in Act I may by “THE FLOWER GIRL,” but she is described as “not at all an attractive person” and appears “as clean as she can afford to be,” which are Shaw’s direct stage directions during the opening scene (1939: 290; act 1). She is also immediately influenced by men in positions of power, as she becomes defensive once one man tells her “THE NOTE TAKER” is writing down notes about her (1939: 292; act 1). That THE NOTE TAKER is writing things down implies he is educated, and in a class position above Eliza. On top of this, Eliza flies into emotional outbursts, both in Act I, and later in Act II when she continues to cry “Ah-ah-ah-ow-oo-o!” every time Higgins insults her (1939: act 2). While it is no surprise she is upset, her dramatic emotions, low class status, and influence by men make her seem weak and in need of saving, as Cinderella and Snow White do. In contrast to Eliza, Higgins is looked at as the head of the household, most of the play taking place at his property on Wimpole Street (1939: 298; act 2). Even Pickering, another educated man of high-class status, allows Higgins to take the lead with Eliza’s learning, telling Higgins he is “the greatest teacher alive if [he] can” successfully transform her speech at the garden parties, and present her to high society (1939: 302; act 2). Higgins’s position of power even causes Eliza’s father to assume Henry wants to marry Eliza, Doolittle becoming confused when Higgins asks him if he thinks he will “keep” Eliza (1939: 311; act 2). The prospect of marriage is only thing that makes sense for why Eliza, who is a single woman, would be staying with a single man, though this theory is quickly disproved.
When we frame these fairy tale markers in a Rags to Riches structure, the idea that Pygmalion is some type of fairy tale becomes even more apparent. Again, Eliza starts off incredibly poor, and Higgins starts off incredibly rich. Higgins promises Eliza a transformation, one that will bring her a life of better means, money, and luxury as long as she is “good and [does] whatever [she’s] told” (1939: 306; act 2). In fact, like Pygmalion with Galatea, Higgins is the ultimate determiner of Eliza’s social status at the end of the story. Outlined by the scolding his mother gives him in Act III, even though he does not realize the responsibility that comes with this power over Eliza, Mrs. Higgins clearly sees the problem of “what is to be done with her afterwards” (1939: 328; act 3). But despite this complication, Eliza does rise in social status at the end of the play. Where Eliza starts off speaking like this, “Theres menners f’yer! Te-oo banches o voylets trod into the mad,” she eventually learns how to speak like this, “Then I shall not see you again, Professor,” showcasing her new knowledge of grammar and proper sentence structure (1939: 290; act 1, 350; act 5). The first example may be a slight exaggeration of language on Shaw’s part, but it still captures the cadence and lack of education in Eliza’s speech at the beginning of the story. Overall, Higgins’s expertise does make Eliza’s speech more ladylike and this skill, combined with upgraded clothing choices, lead Eliza to her new life as a flower shop owner.
While many classic fairy tales lean on princes marrying virtuous women and living happily ever after, not all fairy tales such as Little Red Riding Hood choose to play into this structure. As such, more modern fairy tales such as Superman (1938), The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (1950), Penelope (2008), and The Brothers Grimm (2005) do not emphasize romance, though they may include it. The focus on marriage is therefore only linked to a handful of the older, traditional fairy tales, which means Shaw’s use of A Romance in Five Acts and Eliza’s and Higgin’s initial roles as princess and prince are indicative of the illusion of traditional fairy tale values in the play. There is no requirement for fairy tales to focus solely on marriage. The audience may be left expecting a marriage plot wrapped up with a wedding at the end, but the only character to get married in any version of Shaw’s Pygmalion is Eliza’s father. Yet even Doolittle’s marriage does not fulfil the requirements of Pygmalion being a truly traditional fairy tale. The play is still called A Romance in Five Acts, but we see none of the romance in Doolittle’s relationship with Eliza’s stepmother in any act. Eliza even disapproves of the marriage at first, exclaiming “Youre [sic] going to let yourself down to marry that low common woman!” at her father when he announces the ceremony (1939: 344; act 5). On top of this, the audience never sees the marriage either. There remains no fulfillment of the marriage plot, and therefore no emphasis on the importance of marriage itself. And this is unsurprising given Shaw’s ideological beliefs which continuously spurred him forward to make biting political and social statements about English society.
Towards the end of the nineteenth century, Shaw had subscribed to Fabian ideals and had converted to socialism, enabling him to “…[produce] a text which combines the seemingly divergent spheres of socialist parable and social comedy of manners” (Mugglestone 347). He was not the kind of person to hide his political, social, and moral ideologies. Shaw was, as Lynda Mugglestone and others have noted, purposeful in his narrative choices. The man himself remarked on Pygmalion being “so intensely and deliberately didactic…that [he delighted] in throwing it at the heads of the wiseacres who repeat the parrot cry that art should never be didactic” (George Bernard Shaw’s Plays 289). The importance of didactic choice in art will not be contested here, but the biting statements Shaw made about language were entirely his own. His character representations and ironic titling are deliberate tools to create what I call subverted fairy tales. This means that where he had the opportunity to uphold traditional English values, he denounced those values and restructured his new and improved fairy tale to reteach these values in progressive ways.
It is no surprise that the moment Higgins accepts his teacher role in Act II, he seems to become the Pygmalion sculptor of the “science of speech” (1939: 296; act 1). But by Act II, Higgins’s behavior underscores a very un-princely person. The very act of accepting Eliza as his student can only be made through insults as he announces: “I shall make a duchess of this draggletailed guttersnipe” (1939: 303; act 2). Not only does Higgins behavior make it clear he is no prince – he lacks tact, and certainly does not come off as a savior – but his behavior reveals that Higgins fits into both the role of fairy godmother, and evil stepmother. He is not limited to one role. In the same line, Higgins notes that he will “make” Eliza into something new, something better. Aphrodite takes this role in the Pygmalion myth, and the fairy godmother takes this role in Cinderella. But undercutting this honorable role is “draggletailed guttersnipe,” a clear insult which proves the meanness Higgins displayed in Act I is a continuous behavior throughout the play. Higgins even sees himself as a fairy godmother type, asserting to his mother that Eliza “can go her own way, with all the advantages I have given her” (1939: 328; act 3). He places himself directly in the position of a benefactor of sorts, a giver of proper speech and pretty dresses. But he undercuts his own role as Prince when he tells Eliza “You might marry, you know…all men are not confirmed old bachelors like me and the Colonel” (1939: 333; act 4). Higgins addresses the idea of Eliza marrying, but completely excludes himself from the equation. His role as ‘Prince’ really only jumps at the audience because of his wealth, education, and position as head of his household. But his overtly rude and disrespectful behavior could only be a neon warning sign to audiences that not every ‘Prince’ is worth marrying, and not every fairy godmother comes baring useful gifts. Higgins is too much of a bully to truly have Eliza’s best interests at heart.
Just as Higgins subverts his role, so too does Eliza. She is the woman to be sculpted, to be transformed. At first glance, she is Galatea and Cinderella, waiting for something magic to change her into something else. But just as Higgins fits into other character tropes, so does Eliza. One of the biggest hints that Eliza is not just the princess is in the changes made to the 1941 version of the play. Earlier versions of the play were published as follows:
LIZA [Desperate.] But dont you be too sure that you have me under your feet to be trampled on and talked down. I’ll marry Freddy, I will, as soon as hes able to support me.
But in the 1941 version, Eliza’s proclamation shifts:
LIZA [desperate] But dont you be too sure that you have me under your feet to be trampled on and talked down. I’ll marry Freddy, I will, as soon as I’m able to support him.
Where Eliza explains that Freddy will eventually be the one to support her in earlier versions, she tells Higgins that she will support him instead in the 1941 revision (1941: 137; act 5). Even though this narrative choice came many years after the first version of the play, the fact that Shaw would update the ending at all points to the importance of Eliza not being the princess. Traditional fairy tale princesses are dependent on men, quiet, and domestic, and Eliza was never meant to be any of these things. In fact, Shaw changed the ending of play to drive the point home even more. In earlier versions, Eliza’s exit is swift:
LIZA [Disdainfully.] Buy them yourself. [She sweeps out.] (1939: 350, act 5)
But in the 1941 version, Eliza’s assertiveness plays a much bigger role:
LIZA [disdainfully] Number eights are too small for you if you want them lined with lamb’s wool You have three new tics that you have forgotten in the drawer of your wash- stand Colonel Pickering prefers double Gloucester to Stilton, and you dont notice the difference I telephoned Mrs Pearce this morning not to forget the ham What you are to do without me I cannot imagine [She sweeps out] (1941: 139, act 5)
In both changes, Shaw shifts the focus of his play away from Eliza being taken care of by a potential husband, and places it on Eliza being the head of her household, the one to take care of others (specifically men). In the earlier versions, she will potentially be taken care of by Freddy. In the later version, she will not only take care of Freddy, but she will also take care of Higgins and Pickering as well. Undeniably, Shaw could have let her marry Higgins or Freddy, and had them take care of her. Instead, he gave Eliza a sense of independence, and the motivation to be a businesswoman. He gave her choices. From the beginning, Eliza’s goal was always to be the owner of a flower shop, not the wife to a man of higher status. That she does succeed in owning that flower shop, if by a little help from Pickering, allows for the idea that a woman’s choices do not end at poverty or marriage, a startling and taboo revelation Shaw could only pull off under this subverted fairy tale structure. The audience may end with the impression that Higgins and Eliza may marry later, or Eliza and Freddy, but in no version of the play do Eliza, Higgins, or Freddy actually get hitched on stage. Like Shaw’s other narrative choices, his aim seemed locked onto making audiences less attracted to the idea of Eliza’s marriage being her only happily ever after, but he had to pull off the illusion that Pygmalion was a traditional fairy tale first.
Without George Bernard Shaw being alive, he cannot answer what Pygmalion was really trying to teach audiences. But the story itself succeeds in updating lessons in English values based on its endurance in literature to this day: marriage is unnecessary to be successful, women can be independent, and not every rich bachelor is a Prince Charming. Eliza does somewhat move up in social class, a feat nearly impossible to accomplish in the era in which Shaw wrote. She does marry, but always ends up a businesswoman with the flower shop she originally wanted, Shaw categorizing her as the ‘strong’ partner in her relationship with Freddy (1939: 353). Higgins, a charming and rich bachelor, does not end up married, and is content with bachelordom (1939: 355). Freddy, who never has much money to his name, becomes Eliza’s companion, but never holds his power as a man over her (1939: 353-354). Subverted fairy tales still teach us lessons, but not in the ways we are used to being taught.
George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion is a strange tale, one that plays upon traditional fairy tale tropes, but turns them expertly on their head. It is a play a little bit ahead of its time, rightly falling in line next to other subverted fairy tales such as Shrek and Penelope. These stories all use assumed fairy tale narrative choices to teach us valuable lessons about life, love, wealth, politics, and more, but do so in clever and unexpected ways. Shrek is the monster but is also the hero of his own story. He not only saves the kingdom, but he gets to marry the princess too, who also happens to be a monster. From Shrek, we learn that appearances are not everything, and to love ourselves the way we are. Penelope teaches us a similar lesson, choosing instead to love her strange physical appearance despite her mother telling her the only key to happiness is marrying a “prince.” She not only succeeds breaking the curse on her own, but she falls in love with someone who is very much not the prince. And Eliza teaches us lessons too, that it is okay to want to be successful on our own, and to take care of others instead of them taking care of us. Sometimes the monster is the hero. Other times the hero is the villain. And yet other times, the princess saves herself.
Works Referenced
Baum, Robert. "After the Ball Is Over; Bringing Cinderella Home." Cultural Analysis: An Interdisciplinary Forum on Folklore and Popular Culture, vol. 1, 2000, pp. 69-83, https://www.ocf.berkeley.edu/~culturalanalysis/volume1/pdf/cashman.pdf. Accessed 29 Sep 2020.
Bernard Shaw, George. Pygmalion. George Bernard Shaw’s Plays, edited by Sandy Byrne, 1939, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2002, 286-360.
Bernard Shaw, George. Pygmalion. George Bernard Shaw’s Plays, 1941, Penguin Books, 1916, 1-160, https://ia801600.us.archive.org/31/items/in.ernet.dli.2015.69098/2015.69098.Pygmalion.pdf. Accessed 13 Dec. 2020.
Berst, Charles A. Pygmalion: Shaw's Spin on Myth and Cinderella. NY: Twayne Publishers, 1995. Twayne's Masterwork Studies 155. Gale eBooks, https://link.gale.com/apps/pub/3EZI/GVRL?u=csuf_main&sid=GVRL. Accessed 17 Nov. 2020.
Gainor, J. Ellen. “The Daughter in Her Place.” George Bernard Shaw’s Plays, edited by Sandy
Bryne, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2002, 514-526.
Illes, Katalin, and Harris, Howard. "How Stories Can Be Used in Organisations [sic] Seeking to Teach the Virtues." The Contribution of Fiction to Organizational Ethics, Emerald Publishing Limited, 2014, pp. 169-90. ProQuest, https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/fullerton/detail.action?docID=1780818. Accessed 5 Oct. 2020.
Mugglestone, Lynda. "Shaw, Subjective Inequality, and the Social Meanings of Language in Pygmalion." The Review of English Studies, vol. 44, no. 175, 1993, pp. 373-85. Gale Literature Resource Center, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A14507283/LitRC?u=csuf_main&sid=LitRC&xid=f64b0480. Accessed 5 Oct. 2020.
Penelope. Directed by Mark Palansky, Tatira Active Film, 2008.
Schacker, Jennifer. "Fairy Gold: The Economics and Erotics of Fairy-Tale Pantomime." Marvels & Tales, vol. 26, 2012, pp. 151-77. Gale Literature Resource Center, https://go-gale-com.lib-proxy.fullerton.edu/ps/i.do?p=LitRC&u=csuf_main&id=GALE|A303756363&v=2.1&it=r. Accessed 25 Oct. 2020.
Shrek. Directed by Andrew Adamson and Vicky Jenson, DreamWorks Animation, 2001.
Talairach-Vielmas, Laurence. "Beautiful Maidens, Hideous Suitors: Victorian Fairy Tales and the Process of Civilization." Marvels & Tales, vol. 24, no. 2, 2010, pp. 272-296. Gale Literature Resource Center, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A241862728/LitRC?u=csuf_main&sid=LitRC&xid=7aa1fcc0. Accessed 17 Nov. 2020.
Biography
Angelica Medlin is an English graduate student at California State University, Fullerton, and their specialties include mythology and storytelling. Cultural exploration and folklore have always been their passions, and they remain lifelong pursuits of mine which have shaped my career in academia.
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