MUNDURUCU
In 1876, George Costentenus arrives in the United States and becomes a celebrated attraction in P. T. Barnum’s show. Advertised as Captain George or the Tattooed Greek Prince, he astonishes audiences with elaborate designs covering almost his entire body. Contemporary examinations count 388 figures.
The story told around him is as dramatic as his appearance. In one version, an expedition in Burma ends in capture, and he is punished by being forcibly tattooed. Captivity and torture become the explanation for every mark on his skin—and a powerful advertisement for the show.
But Costentenus tells conflicting versions of his adventures, and the forced-tattooing story is disputed. His tattoos are real; the tale presented to paying audiences is much less certain. Reports of enormous weekly earnings, sometimes put at a thousand dollars, underline the commercial appeal of his extraordinary appearance.
His fame brings Burmese-style tattooing before European and American audiences. It does not, by itself, explain the whole nineteenth-century fashion for tattoos. In Burma, now Myanmar, tattooing already has its own long history: dense lower-body patterns, animal figures and protective designs carry meanings rooted in local communities, well beyond the circus stage.