{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_58581/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_58581","id":"gutenberg_58581","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/58581","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","English fiction -- 20th century","Italy -- Fiction","Mermaids -- Fiction","Short stories"],"text":"Produced by Carlos Col\u00f3n, the University of Toronto and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images\ngenerously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian\nLibraries)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  Transcriber's Notes:\n\n  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by\n  =equal signs=.\n\n  Small uppercase have been replaced with regular uppercase.\n\n  Blank pages have been eliminated.\n\n  Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the\n  original.\n\n\n\n                            THE _STORY_ OF\n                               THE SIREN\n\n                                  BY\n                             E. M. FORSTER\n\n                            [Illustration]\n\n                _Printed by Leonard & Virginia Woolf at\n              The Hogarth Press, Paradise Road, Richmond_\n\n                                 1920\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE SIREN\n\n\nFew things have been more beautiful than my note book on the\nDeist Controversy as it fell downward through the waters of the\nMediterranean. It dived, like a piece of black slate, but opened soon,\ndisclosing leaves of pale green, which quivered into blue. Now it had\nvanished, now it was a piece of magical india rubber stretching out\nto infinity, now it was a book again, but bigger than the book of all\nknowledge. It grew more fantastic as it reached the bottom, where a\npuff of sand welcomed it and obscured it from view. But it reappeared,\nquite sane though a little tremulous, lying decently open on its back,\nwhile unseen fingers fidgeted among its leaves.\n\n\"It is such a pity\" said my aunt, \"that you will not finish your work\nin the Hotel. Then you would be free to enjoy yourself and this would\nnever have happened.\"\n\n\"Nothing of it but will change into something rich and strange,\"\nwarbled the chaplain, while his sister said \"Why it's gone into the\nwater.\" As for the boatmen, one of them laughed, while the other,\nwithout a word of warning, stood up and began to take his clothes off.\n\n\"Holy Moses!\" cried the Colonel. \"Is the fellow mad?\"\n\n\"Yes, thank him dear,\" said my aunt: \"that is to say tell him he is\nvery kind, but perhaps another time.\"\n\n\"All the same I do want my book back,\" I complained. \"It's for my\nFellowship Dissertation. There won't be much left of it by another\ntime.\"\n\n\"I have an idea,\" said some woman or other through her parasol. \"Let\nus leave this child of nature to dive for the book while we go on to\nthe other grotto. We can land him either on this rock or on the ledge\ninside, and he will be ready when we return.\"\n\nThe idea seemed good; and I improved it by saying I would be left\nbehind too, to lighten the boat. So the two of us were deposited\noutside the little grotto on a great sunlit rock that guarded the\nharmonies within. Let us call them blue, though they suggest rather the\nspirit of what is clean, cleanliness passed from the domestic to the\nsublime, the cleanliness of all the sea gathered together and radiating\nlight. The Blue Grotto at Capri contains only more blue water, not\nbluer water. That colour and that spirit is the heritage of every cave\nin the Mediterranean into which the sun can shine and the sea flow.\n\nAs soon as the boat left I realised how imprudent I had been to trust\nmyself on a sloping rock with an unknown Sicilian. With a jerk he\nbecame alive, seizing my arm and saying \"Go to the end of the Grotto\nand I will show you something beautiful.\"\n\nHe made me jump off the rock on to the ledge over a dazzling crack of\nsea, he drew me away from the light till I was standing on the tiny\nbeach of sand which emerged like powdered turquoise at the further end.\nThere he left me with his clothes, and returned swiftly to the summit\nof the entrance-rock. For a moment he stood naked in the brilliant sun,\nlooking down at the spot where the book lay. Then he crossed himself,\nraised his hands above his head, and dived.\n\nIf the book was wonderful, the man is past all description. His effect\nwas that of a silver statue, alive beneath the sea, through whom life\nthrobbed in blue and green. Something infinitely happy, infinitely\nwise--but it was impossible that it should emerge from the depths\nsunburnt and dripping, holding the note book on the Deist Controversy\nbetween its teeth.\n\nA gratuity is generally expected by those who bathe. Whatever I\noffered, he was sure to want more, and I was disinclined for an\nargument in a place so beautiful and also so solitary. It was a relief\nthat he should say in conversational tones \"In a place like this one\nmight see the Siren.\"\n\nI was delighted with him for thus falling into the key of his\nsurroundings. We had been left together in a magic world, apart from\nall the commonplaces that are called reality, a world of blue whose\nfloor was the sea and whose walls and roof of rock trembled with the\nsea's reflections. Here, only the fantastic would be tolerable, and it\nwas in that spirit that I echoed his words. \"One might easily see the\nSiren.\"\n\nHe watched me curiously while he dressed. I was parting the sticky\nleaves of the note book as I sat on the strip of sand.\n\n\"Ah!\" he said at last. \"You may have read the little book that was\nprinted last year. Who would have thought that our Siren would have\ngiven the foreigners pleasure!\"\n\n(I read it afterwards. Its account is, not unnaturally, incomplete, in\nspite of there being a woodcut of the young person, and the words of\nher song.)\n\n\"She comes out of this blue water, doesn't she,\" I suggested \"and sits\non the rock at the entrance, combing her hair.\"\n\nI wanted to draw him out, for I was interested in his sudden gravity,\nand there was a suggestion of irony in his last remark that puzzled me.\n\n\"Have you ever seen her?\"\n\n\"Often and often.\"\n\n\"I never.\"\n\n\"But you have heard her sing!\"\n\nHe put on his coat and said impatiently, \"How can she sing under the\nwater? Who could? She sometimes tries, but nothing comes from her but\ngreat bubbles.\"\n\n\"She should climb on to the rock then.\"\n\n\"How can she?\" he cried again, quite angry. \"The priests have blessed\nthe air, so she cannot breathe it, and blessed the rocks, so that she\ncannot sit on them. But the sea no man can bless, because it is too\nbig, and always changing. Therefore she lives in the sea.\"\n\nI was silent.\n\nAt this his face took a gentler expression. He looked at me as though\nsomething was on his mind, and going out to the entrance rock, gazed at\nthe external blue. Then returning into our twilight he said \"As a rule\nonly good people see the Siren.\"\n\nI made no comment. There was a pause, and he continued. \"That is a very\nstrange thing, and the priests do not know how to account for it; for\nshe of course is wicked. Not only those who fast and go to mass are in\ndanger, but even those who are merely good in daily life. No one in\nthe village had seen her for two generations. I am not surprised. We\nall cross ourselves before we enter the water, but it is unnecessary.\nGiuseppe, we thought, was safer than most. We loved him, and many of us\nhe loved: but that is a different thing to being good.\"\n\nI asked who Giuseppe was.\n\n\"That day--I was seventeen and my brother was twenty and a great deal\nstronger than I was and it was the year when the visitors, who have\nbrought such prosperity and so many alterations into the village,\nfirst began to come. One English lady in particular, of very high\nbirth, came, and has written a book about the place, and it was through\nher that the Improvement Syndicate was formed, which is about to\nconnect the hotels with the station by means of a Funicular railway.\"\n\n\"Don't tell me about that lady in here,\" I observed.\n\n\"That day we took her and her friends to see the grottoes. As we rowed\nclose under the cliffs I put out my hand, as one does, and caught a\nlittle crab, and having pulled off its claws offered it as a curiosity.\nThe ladies groaned, but a gentleman was pleased, and held out money.\nBeing inexperienced, I refused it, saying that his pleasure was\nsufficient reward! Giuseppe, who was rowing behind, was very angry with\nme and reached out with his hand and hit me on the side of the mouth,\nso that a tooth cut my lip, and I bled. I tried to hit him back, but\nhe always was too quick for me, and as I stretched round he kicked me\nunder the arm pit, so that for a moment I could not even row. There was\na great noise among the ladies, and I heard afterwards that they were\nplanning to take me away from my brother and train me as a waiter. That\nat all events never came to pass.\n\n\"When we reached the grotto--not here, but a larger one--the gentleman\nwas very anxious that one of us should dive for money, and the ladies\nconsented, as they sometimes do. Giuseppe who had discovered how much\npleasure it gives foreigners to see us in the water, refused to dive\nfor anything but silver, and the gentleman threw in a two lira piece.\n\n\"Just before my brother sprang off he caught sight of me holding my\nbruise, and crying, for I could not help it. He laughed and said 'this\ntime, at all events, I shall not see the Siren!' and went into the blue\nwater without crossing himself. But he saw her.\"\n\nHe broke off, and accepted a cigarette. I watched the golden entrance\nrock and the quivering walls, and the magic water through which great\nbubbles constantly rose. At last he dropped his hot ash into the\nripples and turned his head away, and said:\n\n\"He came up without the coin. We pulled him into the boat, and he was\nso large that he seemed to fill it, and so wet that we could not dress\nhim. I have never seen a man so wet. I and the gentleman rowed back,\nand we covered Giuseppe with sacking and propped him up in the stern.\"\n\n\"He was drowned, then?\" I murmured, supposing that to be the point.\n\n\"He was not\" he cried angrily. \"He saw the Siren. I told you.\"\n\nI was silenced again.\n\n\"We put him to bed, though he was not ill. The doctor came, and took\nmoney, and the priest came and took more and smothered him with incense\nand spattered him with holy water. But it was no good. He was too\nbig--like a piece of the sea. He kissed the thumb-bones of San Biagio\nand they never dried till evening.\"\n\n\"What did he look like?\" I ventured.\n\n\"Like anyone who has seen the Siren. If you have seen her 'often and\noften' how is it you do not know? Unhappy, unhappy, unhappy because he\nknew everything. Every living thing made him unhappy because he knew it\nwould die. And all he cared to do was to sleep.\"\n\nI bent over my note book.\n\n\"He did no work, he forgot to eat, he forgot whether he had his clothes\non. All the work fell on me, and my sister had to go out to service. We\ntried to make him into a beggar, but he was too robust to inspire pity,\nand as for an idiot, he had not the right look in his eyes. He would\nstand in the street looking at people, and the more he looked at them\nthe more unhappy he became. When a child was born he would cover his\nface with his hands. If anyone was married--he was terrible then, and\nwould frighten them as they came out of church. Who would have believed\nhe would marry himself! I caused that, I. I was reading out of the\npaper how a girl at Ragusa had 'gone mad through bathing in the sea.'\nGiuseppe got up, and in a week he and that girl came in together.\n\n\"He never told me anything, but it seems that he went straight to her\nhouse, broke into her room, and carried her off. She was the daughter\nof a rich mine-owner, so you may imagine our peril. Her father came\ndown, with a clever lawyer, but they could do no more than I. They\nargued and they threatened, but at last they had to go back and we\nlost nothing--that is to say, no money. We took Giuseppe and Maria to\nthe Church and had them married. Ugh! that wedding! The priest made no\njokes afterwards and coming out the children threw stones.... I think I\nwould have died to make her happy; but as always happens, one could do\nnothing.\"\n\n\"Were they unhappy together then?\"\n\n\"They loved each other, but love is not happiness. We can all get love.\nLove is nothing. Love is everywhere since the death of Jesus Christ. I\nhad two people to work for now, for she was like him in everything--one\nnever knew which of them was speaking. I had to sell our own boat and\nwork under the bad old man you have to-day. Worst of all, people began\nto hate us. The children first--everything begins with them--and then\nthe women and last of all the men. For the cause of every misfortune\nwas--you will not betray me?\"\n\nI promised good faith, and immediately he burst into the frantic\nblasphemy of one who has escaped from supervision, cursing the\npriests, the lying filthy cheating immoral priests who had ruined his\nlife, who had murdered his brother and the girl, whom he dared not\nmurder back because they held the key of heaven and could ruin him in\nthe next life too. \"Thus are we tricked!\" was his cry and he stood up\nand kicked at the azure ripples with his feet, till he had obscured\nthem with a cloud of sand.\n\nI too was moved. The story of Giuseppe, for all its absurdity and\nsuperstition, came nearer to reality than anything I had known before.\nI don't know why, but it filled me with desire to help others--the\ngreatest of all our desires I suppose, and the most fruitless. The\ndesire soon passed.\n\n\"She was about to have a child. That was the end of everything. People\nsaid to me 'When will your charming nephew be born? What a cheerful\nattractive child he will be, with such a father and mother!' I kept my\nface steady and replied 'I think he may be. Out of sadness shall come\ngladness'--it is one of our proverbs. And my answer frightened them\nvery much, and they told the priests, who were frightened too. Then the\nwhisper started that the child would be Anti-Christ: you need not be\nafraid: he was never born.\n\n\"An old witch began to prophesy, and no one stopped her. Giuseppe and\nthe girl, she said, had silent devils, who could do little harm. But\nthe child would always be speaking and laughing and perverting, and\nlast of all he would go into the sea and fetch up the Siren into the\nair and all the world would see her and hear her sing. As soon as\nshe sang, the Seven Vials would be opened and the Pope would die and\nMongibello flame, and the veil of Santa Agata would be burnt. Then the\nboy and the Siren would marry, and together they would rule the world,\nfor ever and ever.\n\n\"The whole village was in tumult, and the hotel keepers became\nalarmed, for the tourist season was just beginning. They met together\nand decided that Giuseppe and the girl must be sent inland until the\nchild was born, and they subscribed the money. The night before they\nwere to start there was a full moon and wind from the east, and all\nalong the coast the sea shot up over the cliffs in silver clouds. It is\na wonderful sight, and Maria said she must see it once more.\n\n\"'Do not go,' I said. 'I saw the priest go by, and someone with him.\nAnd the hotel keepers do not like you to be seen, and if we displease\nthem also we shall starve.'\n\n\"'I want to go,' she replied. 'The sea is stormy, and I may never feel\nit again.'\n\n\"'No, he is right' said Giuseppe. 'Do not go--or let one of us go with\nyou.'\n\n\"'I want to go alone,' she said; and she went alone.\n\n\"I tied up their luggage in a piece of cloth, and then I was so unhappy\nat thinking I should lose them that I went and sat down by my brother\nand put my arm round his neck, and he put his arm round me, which\nhe had not done for more than a year, and we remained thus I don't\nremember how long.\n\n\"Suddenly the door flew open and moon-light and wind came in together,\nand a child's voice said laughing 'They have pushed her over the cliffs\ninto the sea.'\n\n\"I stepped to the drawer where I keep my knives, and the child ran away.\n\n\"'Sit down again' said Giuseppe--Giuseppe of all people! 'If she is\ndead, why should others die too?'\n\n'I guess who it is,' I cried, 'and I will kill him.'\n\n\"I was almost out of the door but he tripped me up and kneeling upon me\ntook hold of both my hands and sprained my wrists; first my right one,\nthen my left. No one but Giuseppe would have thought of such a thing.\nIt hurt more than you would suppose, and I fainted. When I woke up, he\nwas gone, and I have never seen him again.\"\n\nBut Giuseppe disgusted me.\n\n\"I told you he was wicked,\" he said. \"No one would have expected him to\nsee the Siren.\"\n\n\"How do you know he did see her then?\"\n\n\"Because he did not see her 'often and often' but once.\"\n\n\"Why do you love him if he is wicked?\"\n\nHe laughed for the first time. That was his only reply.\n\n\"Is that the end?\" I asked, feeling curiously ashamed.\n\n\"I never killed her murderer, for by the time my wrists were well,\nhe was in America; and one cannot kill a priest. As for Giuseppe, he\nwent all over the world too, looking for someone else who has seen the\nSiren--either a man, or, better still, a woman, for then the child\nmight still have been born. At last he came to Liverpool,--is the\ndistrict probable?--and there he began to cough, and spat blood until\nhe died.\n\n\"I do not suppose there is anyone living now who has seen her. There\nhas seldom been more than one in a generation, and never in my life\nwill there be both a man and a woman from whom that child can be born,\nwho will fetch up the Siren from the sea, and destroy silence, and save\nthe world!\"\n\n\"Save the world?\" I cried. \"Did the prophecy end like that?\"\n\nHe leant back against the rock, breathing deep. Through all the\nblue-green reflections I saw him colour. I heard him say: \"Silence and\nloneliness cannot last for ever. It may be a hundred or a thousand\nyears, but the sea lasts longer, and she shall come out of it and\nsing.\" I would have asked him more, but at that moment the whole cave\ndarkened, and there rode in through its narrow entrance the returning\nboat.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOGARTH PRESS\n\n  Telephone                                         Hogarth House\n  Richmond 496                                      Paradise Road\n                                                         Richmond\n                                                           Surrey\n\n\n                  LIST OF PUBLICATIONS\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS\n\nReminiscences of Leo Nicolayevitch Tolstoi. By MAXIM GORKY. Authorized\ntranslation from the Russian by S. S. Koteliansky and Leonard Woolf.\n5s. net.\n\nThe Story of the Siren. By E. M. FORSTER. 2s. 6d. net.\n\n\nPREVIOUS PUBLICATIONS\n\nStories from the Old Testament. Retold by LOGAN PEARSALL SMITH, author\nof _Trivia_. 4s. 6d. net.\n\nParis, a Poem. By HOPE MIRRLEES, author of _Madeleine_. 3s. net.\n\nVIRGINIA WOOLF\n\n  The Mark on the Wall. Second edition. 1s. 6d. net. Kew Gardens.\n  With woodcuts by VANESSA BELL. Second edition. 2s. net.\n\nKATHERINE MANSFIELD\n\n  Prelude. 3s. 6d. net.\n\nT. S. ELIOT\n\n  Poems. 2s. 6d. net.\n\nJ. MIDDLETON MURRY.\n\n  The Critic in Judgment. 2s. 6d. net.\n\nLEONARD & VIRGINIA WOOLF.\n\n  Two Stories. _Out of print._","title":"The Story of the Siren","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":3426}