After working for a few weeks with a remarkable student in the early teaching program, I challenged her to create a fun lesson for Edgar Allan Poe. What she devised was a reader's theatre for "The Masque of the Red Death." The adaption was remarkable in that it was condensed, got a lot of students involved (each room color was assigned to a student and turned into a role), and spooky. Reading it on Halloween during the pandemic is something I won't forget anytime soon.
Her creation inspired me to try my hand at reader's theater. What we have is a version of Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Birthmark" which has always been one of my favorite short stories. After reading and discussing the story we often touch upon all kinds of topics: beauty, exceptionality/accessibility, superheroes, adoption, step-parents, broken homes, etc. I love the story because it reminds us that our flaws make us human. It is also perhaps a reminder to give ourselves and others a bit of grace. I am not always good at this 😁
Here's the adapted text for "The Birthmark"
(Pro-Tip: assign a different reader for each narrative interlude)
“The Birthmark” - Nathaniel Hawthorne
Reader’s Theatre
Narrator 1- In the latter part of the last century there lived a man of science, who not long before our story opens had 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. In those days when the comparatively recent discovery of electricity and other kindred mysteries of Nature seemed to open paths into the region of miracle, it was not unusual for the love of science to rival the love of woman in its depth and absorbing energy. He had devoted himself, however, too unreservedly to scientific studies ever to be weaned 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.
Such a union accordingly took place, and was attended with truly remarkable consequences and a deeply impressive moral. One day, very soon after their marriage, Aylmer sat gazing at his wife with a trouble in his countenance that grew stronger until he spoke.
Aylmer - "Georgiana, has it never occurred to you that the mark upon your cheek might be removed?"
Georgiana- "No, indeed. To tell you the truth it has been so often called a charm that I was simple enough to imagine it might be so."
Aylmer - "Ah, upon another face perhaps it might, but never on yours. No, dearest Georgiana, you came so nearly perfect from the hand of Nature that this slightest possible defect, which we hesitate whether to term a defect or a beauty, shocks me, as being the visible mark of earthly imperfection."
Georgiana- "Shocks you, my husband!” (reddening with momentary anger, but then bursting into tears.) "Then why did you take me from my mother's side? You cannot love what shocks you!"
Narrator 2- To explain this conversation it must be mentioned that in the centre of Georgiana's left cheek there was a crimson stain upon the snow, in what Aylmer sometimes deemed an almost fearful distinctness. Its shape bore not a little similarity to the human hand, though of the smallest pygmy size...The crimson hand expressed the ineludible gripe in which mortality clutches the highest and purest of earthly mould. In this manner, selecting it as the symbol of his wife's liability to sin, sorrow, decay, and death, Aylmer's sombre imagination was not long in rendering the birthmark a frightful object, causing him more trouble and horror than ever Georgiana's beauty, whether of soul or sense, had given him delight.
Georgianna- "Do you remember, my dear Aylmer, have you any recollection of a dream last night about this odious hand?"
Aylmer- "None! none whatever! I might well dream of it; for before I fell asleep it had taken a pretty firm hold of my fancy."
Georgiana- "And you did dream of it? A terrible dream! I wonder that you can forget it. Is it possible to forget this one expression?--'It is in her heart now; we must have it out!' Reflect, my husband; for by all means I would have you recall that dream. Aylmer, I know not what may be the cost to both of us to rid me of this fatal birthmark. Perhaps its removal may cause cureless deformity; or it may be the stain goes as deep as life itself. Again: do we know that there is a possibility, on any terms, of unclasping the firm gripe of this little hand which was laid upon me before I came into the world?"
Aylmer- "Dearest Georgiana, I have spent much thought upon the subject. I am convinced of the perfect practicability of its removal."
Georgiana- "If there be the remotest possibility of it, let the attempt be made at whatever risk. Danger is nothing to me; for life, while this hateful mark makes me the object of your horror and disgust,--life is a burden which I would fling down with joy. Either remove this dreadful hand, or take my wretched life! You have deep science. All the world bears witness of it. You have achieved great wonders. Cannot you remove this little, little mark, which I cover with the tips of two small fingers? Is this beyond your power, for the sake of your own peace, and to save your poor wife from madness?"
Aylmer- "Noblest, dearest, tenderest wife, doubt not my power. I have already given this matter the deepest thought--thought which might almost have enlightened me to create a being less perfect than yourself. Georgiana, you have led me deeper than ever into the heart of science. I feel myself fully competent to render this dear cheek as faultless as its fellow; and then, most beloved, what will be my triumph when I shall have corrected what Nature left imperfect in her fairest work! Even Pygmalion, when his sculptured woman assumed life, felt not greater ecstasy than mine will be."
Georgiana- "It is resolved, then. And, Aylmer, spare me not, though you should find the birthmark take refuge in my heart at last."
Narrator 3- Her husband tenderly kissed her cheek--her right cheek--not that which bore the impress of the crimson hand.
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Narrator 4-As he led her over the threshold of the laboratory, Georgiana was cold and tremulous. Aylmer looked cheerfully into her face, with intent to reassure her, but was so startled with the intense glow of the birthmark upon the whiteness of her cheek that he could not restrain a strong convulsive shudder. His wife fainted.
Aylmer- "Aminadab! Aminadab!"
Narrator 5- With his vast strength, his shaggy hair, his smoky aspect, and the indescribable earthiness that incrusted him, Aminadab seemed to represent man's physical nature; while Aylmer's slender figure, and pale, intellectual face, were no less apt a type of the spiritual element.
Aylmer- "Throw open the door of the boudoir, Aminadab, and burn a pastil."
Aminadab- "Yes, master. (now, quietly) If she were my wife, I'd never part with that birthmark."
Georgiana- (waking) "Where am I? Ah, I remember.”
Aylmer- "Fear not, dearest! Do not shrink from me! Believe me, Georgiana, I even rejoice in this single imperfection, since it will be such a rapture to remove it."
Georgiana- "Oh, spare me! Pray do not look at it again. I never can forget that convulsive shudder."
Narrator 6- In order to soothe Georgiana, and, as it were, to release her mind from the burden of actual things, Aylmer now put into practice some of the light and playful secrets which science had taught him among its profounder lore... When wearied of this, Aylmer bade her cast her eyes upon a vessel containing a quantity of earth. She did so, with little interest at first; but was soon startled to perceive the germ of a plant shooting upward from the soil. Then came the slender stalk; the leaves gradually unfolded themselves; and amid them was a perfect and lovely flower.
Georgiana- "It is magical! I dare not touch it."
Aylmer- "Nay, pluck it-- pluck it, and inhale its brief perfume while you may. The flower will wither in a few moments and leave nothing save its brown seed vessels; but thence may be perpetuated a race as ephemeral as itself."
Narrator 7- But Georgiana had no sooner touched the flower than the whole plant suffered a blight, its leaves turning coal-black as if by the agency of fire. To make up for this abortive experiment, he proposed to take her portrait by a scientific process of his own invention. It was to be effected by rays of light striking upon a polished plate of metal. Georgiana assented; but, on looking at the result, was affrighted to find the features of the portrait blurred and indefinable; while the minute figure of a hand appeared where the cheek should have been. Aylmer snatched the metallic plate and threw it into a jar of corrosive acid.
Aylmer gave a history of the long dynasty of the alchemists, who spent so many ages in quest of the universal solvent by which the golden principle might be elicited from all things vile and base.
Aylmer- “The elixir vitae is within my grasp, but a philosopher who should go deep enough to acquire the power would attain too lofty a wisdom to stoop to the exercise of it."
Georgiana- "Aylmer, are you in earnest? It is terrible to possess such power, or even to dream of possessing it."
Aylmer- "Oh, do not tremble, my love. I would not wrong either you or myself by working such inharmonious effects upon our lives; but I would have you consider how trifling, in comparison, is the skill requisite to remove this little hand."
Narrator 8- At the mention of the birthmark, Georgiana, as usual, shrank as if a red hot iron had touched her cheek.After a period of time had passed during which Alymer deliberated in the lab...
Georgiana- “And what is this? It is so beautiful to the eye that I could imagine it the elixir of life."
Aylmer- "In one sense it is, or, rather, the elixir of immortality. It is the most precious poison that ever was concocted in this world. By its aid I could apportion the lifetime of any mortal at whom you might point your finger. The strength of the dose would determine whether he were to linger out years, or drop dead in the midst of a breath. No king on his guarded throne could keep his life if I, in my private station, should deem that the welfare of millions justified me in depriving him of it."
Georgiana- "Why do you keep such a terrific drug?"
Aylmer- "Do not mistrust me, dearest, its virtuous potency is yet greater than its harmful one. But see! here is a powerful cosmetic. With a few drops of this in a vase of water, freckles may be washed away as easily as the hands are cleansed. A stronger infusion would take the blood out of the cheek, and leave the rosiest beauty a pale ghost."
Georgiana- "Is it with this lotion that you intend to bathe my cheek?"
Aylmer- "Oh, no, this is merely superficial. Your case demands a remedy that shall go deeper."
Narrator 9- Alymer turned to his studies, and Georgianna to Alymer’s library. To Georgiana the most engrossing volume was a large folio from her husband's own hand, in which he had recorded every experiment of his scientific career, its original aim, the methods adopted for its development, and its final success or failure. Georgiana, as she read, reverenced Aylmer and loved him more profoundly than ever, but with a less entire dependence on his judgment than heretofore. Much as he had accomplished, she could not but observe that his most splendid successes were almost invariably failures, if compared with the ideal at which he aimed. His brightest diamonds were the merest pebbles, and felt to be so by himself, in comparison with the inestimable gems which lay hidden beyond his reach. So deeply did these reflections affect Georgiana that she laid her face upon the open volume and burst into tears. In this situation she was found by her husband.
Aylmer- "It is dangerous to read in a sorcerer's books," (with a smile, though uneasy and displeased) "Georgiana, there are pages in that volume which I can scarcely glance over and keep my senses. Take heed lest it prove as detrimental to you."
Gerogianna- "It has made me worship you more than ever.”
Aylmer- "Ah, wait for this one success, then worship me if you will. I shall deem myself hardly unworthy of it… Carefully now, Aminadab; carefully, thou human machine; carefully, thou man of clay! Now, if there be a thought too much or too little, it is all over."
Aminadab- "Ho! Ho! Look, master! look!"
Alymer- "Why do you come hither? Have you no trust in your husband? Would you throw the blight of that fatal birthmark over my labors? It is not well done. Go, prying woman, go!"
Georgiana- "Nay, Aylmer, t is not you that have a right to complain. You mistrust your wife; you have concealed the anxiety with which you watch the development of this experiment. Think not so unworthily of me, my husband. Tell me all the risk we run, and fear not that I shall shrink; for my share in it is far less than your own."
Aylmer- "No, no, Georgiana! It must not be."
Georgiana- "I submit. And, Aylmer, I shall quaff whatever draught you bring me; but it will be on the same principle that would induce me to take a dose of poison if offered by your hand."
Aylmer- "My noble wife, I knew not the height and depth of your nature until now. Nothing shall be concealed. Know, then, that this crimson hand, superficial as it seems, has clutched its grasp into your being with a strength of which I had no previous conception. I have already administered agents powerful enough to do aught except to change your entire physical system. Only one thing remains to be tried. If that fail us we are ruined."
Georgiana- "Why did you hesitate to tell me this?"
Aylmer- "Because, Georgiana. There is danger."
Georgiana- "Danger? There is but one danger--that this horrible stigma shall be left upon my cheek! Remove it, remove it, whatever be the cost, or we shall both go mad!"
Aylmer- "Heaven knows your words are too true. And now, dearest, return to your boudoir. In a little while all will be tested."
Narrator 10- After his departure Georgiana became rapt in musings. She considered the character of Aylmer. Her heart exulted, while it trembled, at his honorable love--so pure and lofty that it would accept nothing less than perfection nor miserably make itself contented with an earthlier nature than he had dreamed of. The sound of her husband's footsteps aroused her. He bore a crystal goblet containing a liquor colorless as water, but bright enough to be the draught of immortality. Aylmer was pale; but it seemed rather the consequence of a highly-wrought state of mind and tension of spirit than of fear or doubt.
Aylmer- "The concoction of the draught has been perfect. Unless all my science have deceived me, it cannot fail."
Georgiana- "Save on your account, my dearest Aylmer. I might wish to put off this birthmark of mortality by relinquishing mortality itself in preference to any other mode. Life is but a sad possession to those who have attained precisely the degree of moral advancement at which I stand. Were I weaker and blinder it might be happiness. Were I stronger, it might be endured hopefully. But, being what I find myself, methinks I am of all mortals the most fit to die."
Aylmer- "You are fit for heaven without tasting death! But why do we speak of dying? The draught cannot fail. Behold its effect upon this plant."
Narrator 11- On the window seat there stood a geranium diseased with yellow blotches, which had overspread all its leaves. Aylmer poured a small quantity of the liquid upon the soil in which it grew. In a little time, when the roots of the plant had taken up the moisture, the unsightly blotches began to be extinguished in a living verdure.
Georgianne- "There needed no proof. Give me the goblet I joyfully stake all upon your word."
Aylmer- "Drink, then, thou lofty creature! There is no taint of imperfection on thy spirit. Thy sensible frame, too, shall soon be all perfect."
Narrator 12- She quaffed the liquid and returned the goblet to his hand.
Georgianne- "It is grateful. Methinks it is like water from a heavenly fountain; for it contains I know not what of unobtrusive fragrance and deliciousness. It allays a feverish thirst that had parched me for many days. Now, dearest, let me sleep. My earthly senses are closing over my spirit like the leaves around the heart of a rose at sunset."
Narrator 13- She spoke the last words with a gentle reluctance, as if it required almost more energy than she could command to pronounce the faint and lingering syllables.The crimson hand, which at first had been strongly visible upon the marble paleness of Georgiana's cheek, now grew more faintly outlined. She remained not less pale than ever; but the birthmark with every breath that came and went, lost somewhat of its former distinctness. Its presence had been awful; its departure was more awful still. Watch the stain of the rainbow fading out the sky, and you will know how that mysterious symbol passed away.
Aylmer- "By Heaven! it is well-nigh gone! I can scarcely trace it now. Success! success! And now it is like the faintest rose color. The lightest flush of blood across her cheek would overcome it. But she is so pale! Ah, clod! ah, earthly mass! You have served me well! Matter and spirit--earth and heaven --have both done their part in this! Laugh, thing of the senses! You have earned the right to laugh."
Narrator 14- These exclamations broke Georgiana's sleep. She slowly unclosed her eyes and gazed into the mirror which her husband had arranged for that purpose. A faint smile flitted over her lips when she recognized how barely perceptible was now that crimson hand which had once blazed forth with such disastrous brilliancy as to scare away all their happiness. But then her eyes sought Aylmer's face with a trouble and anxiety that he could by no means account for.
Georgianne- "My poor Aylmer!"
Aylmer- "Poor? Nay, richest, happiest, most favored! My peerless bride, it is successful! You are perfect!"
Georgianne- "My poor Aylmer. You have aimed loftily; you have done nobly. Do not repent that with so high and pure a feeling, you have rejected the best the earth could offer. Aylmer, dearest Aylmer, I am dying!"
Narrator 15- Alas! it was too true! The fatal hand had grappled with the mystery of life, and was the bond by which an angelic spirit kept itself in union with a mortal frame. As the last crimson tint of the birthmark--that sole token of human imperfection--faded from her cheek, the parting breath of the now perfect woman passed into the atmosphere, and her soul, lingering a moment near her husband, took its heavenward flight. Then a hoarse, chuckling laugh was heard again! Thus ever does the gross fatality of earth exult in its invariable triumph over the immortal essence which, in this dim sphere of half development, demands the completeness of a higher state. Yet, had Alymer reached a profounder wisdom, he need not thus have flung away the happiness which would have woven his mortal life of the selfsame texture with the celestial. The momentary circumstance was too strong for him; he failed to look beyond the shadowy scope of time, and, living once for all in eternity, to find the perfect future in the present.
THE END
