If you go to Cornwall and enter the church in the small village of Zennor, you will be able to see a mermaid carved into the end of a bench. The carving is in memory of a famous story which I first came to know when it was told by my very good friend, storyteller Sal Tonge. The story was first noted down in 1873 by Cornish folklorist William Bottrell and it has since appeared in lots of written versions in poetry as well as prose. You may know it already. But it’s well worth being reminded of it. In my experience, it fascinates children and adults.

The Mermaid of Zennor:

In the church choir in Zennor, Matthey Trewella was known as one of the best of the singers. He was also very popular and very nice-looking. Every Sunday, the young girls in the church would cast longing glances towards him, each one hoping he was singing especially to her.

One day when the service had already begun, the people in church heard the squeak of the church door opening (sound effects are very good here). A faint wind blew in (more sounds) and then they heard the sound of soft footsteps coming into the church. Each person who looked to see who it was saw what they thought was a woman, head bent, in a pew at the back. Her hair was shrouded in a beautiful cloak. Every time she raised her head slightly, Matthey Trewella caught a glimpse of lovely pink cheeks and red, red lips. At once, he was fascinated.

Sadly, before the service was ended, there came the sound of soft footsteps leaving the church and the creak of the church door as it opened and closed (sound effects once established can now be repeated as needed.) Matthey Trewella felt bereft. He’d wanted to talk to that woman. Would she come back to next week’s service?

The following Sunday, Matthey Trewella was on the alert. His ears pricked up when he heard the church door open after the service had begun and throughout, he was on the edge of his seat in case the woman got up and left as she’d done the week before. He was right to keep his ears open. Before the service had ended, he saw the woman get up to leave. 

Now Matthey Trewella was up from his feet and following the woman out of the church. Outside, he called her but she didn’t pause. Instead, she began walking more quickly. ‘Stop, stop, I must talk to you,’ Matthey Trewella called out. But on she went, out of the churchyard and through the village, heading straight for the sea. After picking her way down the cliff path, she crossed the pebbles and walked into the sea. Rushing after her, Matthey Trewella saw her cloak and long golden hair spread out on the waves behind her. A moment later, she’d disappeared below the surface. 

Matthey knew he had to follow the woman even before he caught another brief sight of her as she emerged from the sea and called him.  ‘Matthey Trewella, Matthey Trewella.’ Her voice was like a rope pulling him towards her and soon Matthey Trewella also was gone. No sight or sound of him remained. When his parents looked for him after the service, when the pretty girls missed him and when the villagers searched, there was still no sight or sound of him.

Everyone in Zennor missed Matthey Trewella although as the years went on, some of them began to forget him.  One, two, three (you can count them out) …  and then about eight years later, a fisherman from Zennor was making his way back to harbour after a day out fishing. But because he needed to wait till the tide was right before coming in to his mooring, he lifted his anchor from the bottom of his boat and threw it over the side. Very shortly after, he heard a very cross voice.

‘And what do you think you are doing?’

When the fisherman looked over the side of the boat, he was astonished to see a beautiful woman with long golden hair floating in the sea to the side of his boat. In her arms was a small baby (the fisherman fancied it was a mer-baby) and the woman was clearly very upset.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ she shouted. ‘You’ve thrown your anchor out of your boat and it has landed directly outside my front door. Now I can’t get into my very own house. And I must get in because I need to be making supper for my husband, Matthey Trewella, and for our children.’

Well, the fisherman was completely amazed. As the woman then dived below the sea, he couldn’t wait to get home to tell everyone in Zennor what he’d seen and heard. ‘Matthey Trewella is still alive! He’s living at the bottom of the sea!’ Everyone in Zennor was pleased to hear it and that’s why they arranged for that figure of a mermaid to be carved on the end of a bench in their church.

What can come from a story:

One thing I remember is a story-board that was produced by a girl in a class of children to whom I’d told the story. The story-board was on a piece of A4 paper and had four drawings on it. The picture I specially remember showed a three-piece suite in a living-room. Behind the sofa, on the wall, hung portraits of Matthey Trewella and each of his children.

Another thing I remember was a young man with Down’s Syndrome who was part of a group of adults with special needs to whom I told the same story. Afterwards, some of them were keen to enact it and I remember the posture and voice of the young man I’ve mentioned who insisted on taking the part of Matthey Trewella. How he entered into it! Leaning forward slightly, his arms reaching forward, I remember how his voice filled with longing and how clearly he spoke as he called to the mermaid as she entered the sea.

And of course I can’t forget the many times I’ve been asked,  always after a pause, ‘Miss, is that story true?’

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 4th, 2016 at 8:48 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.