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The Mermaid of Zennor
The Mermaid of Zennor
By Eleanor Frampton
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Along the Atlantic Coast of Cornwall, a few miles west of St Ives, is a small village named Zennor. The village is home to approximately 196 residents, a small pub, a few guest houses, a church, and, within this church, a few local legends. Although the church itself is of Norman origins, it supposedly stands on the site of a Celtic church dating back to the 6th Century AD. The church was named for Saint Senara, who legend has it was once a Breton princess named Asenora. Little was known about her historically, but the legend claims that her husband the King, suspecting her of infidelity when she became pregnant, had her nailed into a barrel and cast out to sea, where she eventually washed up on the Cornish shore. She founded the church in Zennor to bring Christianity to the local Celtic people, before moving on to Ireland to spread the word of God. It is fitting that the church is named for a woman who came to Cornwall from the sea, as St Senara’s Church is also the resting place of the last surviving relic of another local legend – The Merrymaid of Zennor. The ‘Mermaid Chair’, which sits alone in a darkened corner of the church, is a seat made from two medieval bench ends. One of these ends bears a carving depicting a woman with long flowing hair and a fish tail for legs. Locals say the carving was made around 400 years ago in memory of a man named Matthew Trewhella (note 1) , who, so the story goes, ran off to sea with a mermaid.
For as long as man has gone to sea, there have been tales of mermaids, supposedly the result of ocean-weary sailors mistaking aquatic mammals such as manatees for the figure of a woman. The well-known image of a creature with the head and torso of a female but the tail of a fish from the waist downwards has become a popular feature in folklore. Each culture has their own variation on this legend, from the ‘Sirens’ of Ancient Greece, the ‘Melusine’ of Normandy, to the ‘Mami Wata’ spirits of West, Central, and Southern Africa. Despite the geographical and historical distance, they all share certain characteristics, namely their beautiful appearance which often leads to romances with humans. While each incarnation of the mermaid legend agrees on their being female from the waist upwards, the most notable difference between depictions of mermaids across cultures is the form of their legs. The most recognisable is the classic fish tail, but in many areas, such as western Europe and Africa, mermaids are imagined with the tail of a serpent. Elsewhere, mermaids are often pictured as almost identical to human women in shape, but with some subtle differences, such as pale skin and long green hair in eastern Europe, or webbed hands and feet in China. One Chinese folklorist describes a mermaid captured on Namtao Island:
(Note 2)
Whatever form their legs may take, the folklore surrounding mermaids across the globe agrees on their ability to disguise themselves as human. This does not have to be achieved by forming a deal with an octopus-legged sea witch, as in the 1989 Disney film The Little Mermaid, but derives from some magical power which the mermaid herself possesses. In Irish mythology, a mermaid becomes human by removing her ‘magic cap’; a hat or bonnet which gives her the appearance of a human female. Whereas in the Scottish equivalent, sometimes known as a ‘selkie’, the mermaid has the form of a seal when under the sea, and sheds this seal skin in order to walk on land. In many tales, if a human was to obtain this cap or skin, the mermaid would be trapped on land with them for evermore. In other stories, the mermaid simply splits her tail in two to resemble legs, or hides the tail under a long dress and tries not to have to walk anywhere.
A common feature attributed to mermaids across the world is their deadly nature; they are often said to lure sailors to a watery grave. Many are described as vengeful, as they were created from the spirits of women who supposedly died violent deaths at sea, and are said to bring storms and shipwrecks. Despite this, the figure of a mermaid is often associated with Christianity in Cornwall, as the dual nature of woman and fish mirrors the dual nature of Christ as both human and divine. With the exception of a rather violent mermaid from Padstow (note 3) , Cornish mermaids tend to be benevolent, as is the case in a tale from the Lizard Peninsula at the very edge of Cornwall, about a mermaid named Movena. She was said to have bestowed three wishes and a magical comb upon a helpful farmer named Lutey who carried her back to sea when she was stranded on the beach.
The Mermaid of Zennor is a little more morally ambiguous: did she lure Matthew Trewhella to his death, or was he transformed into a merman himself so they could live together under the sea?
The tale of the Mermaid of Zennor (An Vorvoren a Senar in the Cornish Celtic) first appears in writing in William Bottrell’s (note 4) Traditions and Hearthside Stories of West Cornwall, Vol. 2 written in 1873; since then it has appeared in many contemporary incarnations, from poetry to pop songs. As with all old folk tales, the story differs slightly each time it is told, but the basic framework of the legend is always the same. It tells of a choir boy named Matthew Trewhella who used to sing in St Senara’s Church every Sunday, and whose enchanting voice attracted a mermaid (note 5) from the nearby coast. At first, she listened only from the rocks at Pendour Cove, a small inlet of land along the rugged coastline barely a stone’s throw from the village. As the weeks went on she grew bolder and even dared to attend the church itself to listen, appearing in the disguise of a well-dressed noblewoman. Every week from then on, she came to listen, finally catching his eye by way of a smile, a sigh, or a song of her own. He left the church with her and they made for the ocean, never to be seen again. Their voices could still be heard singing together from beneath the waves, and it was said that Matthew would warn of rough seas by singing low. When he sang high, sailors knew it was safe to venture out.
The blame for Matthew’s disappearance is often placed on the mermaid; she is depicted as an evil temptress who lured an innocent man to his death with her song. Occasionally they are described as so perfectly in love that Matthew is willing to forsake his life on the land for her. Little consideration is made for the idea that it was Matthew who chose to follow a beautiful stranger with an ear for music, and discovered a forbidden secret about the existence of mermaids. Certainly, some supernatural influence must have been involved. Any visitor to Zennor will note that a rather steep cliff separates the nearby coastal path from the shoreline, which no mere mortal could traverse with ease.
In some versions of the legend, the mermaid was spotted several years later by a fisherman who had weighed anchor off the coast. This mermaid was in some distress as the fisherman had rested his anchor over the door to her house, and she was unable to return to her husband and children. The fisherman initially dismissed the encounter as a bad omen, but, as written in Bottrell’s telling of the story:
Not many people in this day and age have enjoyed extensive reading of Botrell’s original work, it having been somewhat lost to the obscurity of time. Most people who know the tale of the Mermaid of Zennor, particularly young children with a keen interest in mermaids, are familiar with Charles Causley’s (note 6) book The Merrymaid of Zennor, complete with captivating illustrations by Michael Foreman:
(note 7)
This book is popular for a reason; Causley’s book tells the story in simple yet effective language, allowing the illustrations to create the magic of the tale. It is aimed primarily at children, as it is their young minds who take most keenly to the existence of mermaids. For a more poetic outlook on the story, one must look to Vernon Watkins’ poem from the 1960s, The Ballad of the Mermaid of Zennor. In particular, its final stanza:
(note 8)
This hauntingly beautiful poem is just over 100 lines long, and the simple alternating rhyme pattern has the effect of imitating the movement of waves breaking gently onto sand. A particularly interesting aspect of the poem is that it is structured as a dialogue between Matthew Trewhella and the mermaid herself, whereas in most incarnations of the tale, whether prose, poetry, or song, the narrative is from the perspective of either one character (usually Matthew) or, more commonly, an outside narrator. Watkins’ poem has a much sadder and darker tone than Causley’s cheerfully magical book, reflecting how the same story can have a hundred different meanings depending on the telling.
A story of a human falling in love with a creature of the sea naturally lends itself to music, as mere words sometimes cannot do justice to the magic of the tale. Brenda Wootton’s song Mermaid is inspired by the Zennor legend, and its melody, which rises and falls much like the waves, gives the tale an ethereal beauty of its own. The song is sung from the perspective of the mermaid, giving her a voice which she is so often denied, but still presenting her as a strange and dangerous sea creature. But it is not only folk songs of the 80s which are inspired by the legend; the funky and upbeat song Zennor Mermaid by indie pop band The Hit Parade is a more modern musical adaptation of the legend. The lyrics are less dictated by the legend than Wooton’s song, but the musical arrangement has the same unearthly quality to it.
Even today, the village of Zennor itself seems exactly the sort of place where one would expect to encounter a mermaid. The dark cloisters of the church where the mermaid chair sits have an underwater feel to them, and even the local pub sells a ‘Zennor Mermaid’ ale (which, by the way, is delicious). Traces of the legend appear to have permeated many aspects of modern life in the area; there is even a local ice cream company named ‘Moomaid of Zennor’. However, it is at the edge of the cliffs over Pendour Cove, looking out to sea, where the words of Watkins’ poem or Wootton’s melodies are truly brought to life, and the sparkles on the waves could easily be mistaken for a mermaid’s tail.
Eleanor from Probus is a writer currently studying English and History at the University of York.
This article is reproduced with kind permission of Eleanor and from the University of Exeter, Institute of Cornish Studies from their series Folklore, Myths And Legends Of Cornwall www.cornishstory.com
Authors notes:
1 In Bottrell’s original tale of the Mermaid of Zennor it is written as ‘Mathey Trewella’.
2 N.B. Dennys, The folk-lore of China, and its affinities with that of the Aryan Semitic races.
3 The Doom Bar sandbank blocking the Camel estuary in which Padstow resides was supposedly created by an angry mermaid after a sailor shot her.
4 William Bottrell (1816-1881) was a Cornish folklorist.
5 In most versions of the legend, she is named ‘Morveren’, however, in his novel ‘Seat of Storms’ Craig Weatherhill includes a mermaid of Zennor named ‘Azenor’.
6 Charles Causley (1917-2003) was a celebrated Cornish poet.
7 C. Causley, The Merrymaid of Zennor.
8 V. Watkins, Affinities, London:
Images below: The back from a 1936 cigarette card - part of the legends of Britain series.