Western Morning News (Saturday)
Time running out for dying breed of Cornish craftsmen
A200-YEAR-OLD industry born from the most southerly point in Cornwall, and once championed by royalty, could be nearing its final days.
Despite a recent resurgence in popularity, the handful of craftsmen still carving Cornish serpentine say that they will likely be the last, because of the difficulty in finding the elusive stone.
With its marble-like qualities, demand for Cornish serpentine – reputedly named for its resemblance to a snake’s skin – was once so great that factories were built in Penzance and on the Lizard peninsula to produce elegant mantelpieces and ornamental urns that became fashionable amongst the Victorian elite. Even in living memory, after the factories had long been closed, there were up to 50 serpentine turners working in Lizard village, carving souvenirs for tourists from the unique stone.
Today, heading south from the village square, on Britain’s last stretch of land before the English Channel, there is a small shop hidden behind a café, with a sign that reads ‘Hendys Serpentine Stone Workshop and Gifts’. On this cold, February morning the lights are off and the door is closed, but there is noise coming from a small room at the back of the shop.
The screech of metal on stone stops, and emerging from a white cloud is a tall man in his seventies, wearing two thick plaid shirts, a flat cap and a thin layer of dust covering everywhere that was not protected by his spectacles. Meet John Hendy, one of the last serpentine turners in Cornwall – the youngest serpentine turner in Cornwall... once upon a time.
John Hendy has worked as a serpentine turner for 61 years.
“I was one of the youngest serpentine turners when I first started; now I’m the oldest. Where have all these years gone? I don’t know.
“I’ve been turning serpentine fulltime now since 1963. It’s changed very little in that time. We’ve got tungsten tips now on the end of the tools; they never had that years ago. Apart from that, the only other thing that’s changed is we’ve got electric motors instead of the old treadle, so it’s changed very little: very, very little at all.”
However, one big change during John Hendy’s career is the number of serpentine turners.
“When I first started there were somewhere in the region of 40 to 50 turners in the village. A lot of them were part-timers – they had a day job doing something else and did a little bit of turning on weekends – but there were somewhere in the region of 40 to 50 then, and now we’re down to about four: so that’s it.
“Gary’s the youngest one now, by a long, long way, but whether any other youngsters will come on, I’ve got my doubts.”
In the centre of Lizard village is a gift shop that almost every visitor has been in. The name J.A.R. HILL takes pride of place at the entrance, while further back along the shop is a sign that reads ‘The Lizard Serpentine Works’.
Gary Hill’s grandfather set up the shop in the 1940s and today, as a third-generation serpentine turner, he keeps the family trade alive in his workshop at the back of the shop.
Gary began turning serpentine when he was only eight years old. Now, aged 34, he is still the youngest serpentine turner in Cornwall.
Softer than marble, but harder than a soapstone, the right serpentine is easy to work, according to Gary – although he admits that, despite its rarity, serpentine is the only stone he has ever worked with.
From the days when Gary’s grandfather James first started selling serpentine the shop has grown and diversified to sell a broader range of gifts for tourists. On display at the back of the shop, however, there are some large ornamental pieces from the Poltesco serpentine works, which date back to the early days of the booming industry.
A short distance from John and Gary’s workshops, the old serpentine works in Carleon Cove at the bottom of the Poltesco valley was built in 1855 by the Lizard Serpentine Company. The stone-processing factory was created to meet an increased demand for ornamental wares made from the marble-like stone, found on the Lizard peninsula.
The Penzance Serpentine Company already had a factory established in Wherrytown, Penzance, which Prince Albert had visited in 1846, prompting him to order a serpentine table and other pieces for Osborne House on the Isle of Wight.
This royal stamp of approval, along with an impressive serpentine display at the Great Exhibition in 1851, made the stone a must-have item in the homes of the Victorian gentry.
Serpentine is not exclusive to the Lizard peninsula; however, the area contains the largest serpentine mass in the UK, estimated to cover 20
When I first started there were 40 to 50 turners in the village. Now there are about four JOHN HENDY
square miles. It’s also said the serpentine found on the Lizard is richer in colours than anywhere else.
At the ruins of the factory in Poltesco, grooves can be seen on a large, flat stone where serpentine was cut over the years using ‘toothless’ saws with sand and water.
Using serpentine from local quarries, fireplaces, mantelpieces, gravestones and even shop fronts were
carved at the factory, before being shipped off to London.
The Lizard Serpentine Company was wound up in 1870, and the factory was relaunched as the Poltesco Marble Company. This name change was in part due to competition from cheaper Italian marble, and the reputation serpentine was acquiring for degrading quickly, especially when used outdoors and so exposed to the elements.
By 1883 the workforce at the factory was down to 20 men and three boys and in 1893 the Poltesco Marble Company closed, and the serpentine works in the cove were abandoned.
Like the men who supplied the factory at Poltesco, Gary’s father David and grandfather James got most of their serpentine from quarries. Nowadays, however, Gary says new stone often comes when farmers are digging in the area and spot serpentine of the colour they know he’s looking for.
“The hardest bit for us now is finding good stone – workable stone”, he says. “There’s lots of serpentine in this area, but whether it’s workable or not is a fine line, and that’s where the art is – finding the right stone.
“There must be more stone around; it’s just a case of finding it. As long as we keep digging stone every few years we should have enough to keep going on, but the next generation... I don’t know. If the stone’s there they could keep going, but it’s whether they find it or not.”
The shape, the way it holds together, the weight and the colour are all factors that make the difference between good and bad serpentine for turning.
“If you cut it with a hammer it should peel off, instead of shattering into little cubes”, Gary says. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s got to be the right consistency, without too many faults through it.”
From the serpentine Gary carves all sorts of souvenirs and ornaments. “The traditional ones are lighthouses: clocks, barometers, paperweights, tealight holders, candlesticks: any small ornaments, really.
“I’d say demand was dying off 10 years ago, but now everyone’s looking to have things produced locally by hand, and traditionally. Keeping arts like this alive is quite important, I think, especially for this very, very small area.”
John said: “Over the years we’ve had big problems finding the raw material. We know where there’s a bit of stone today, but it goes under a farmhouse and the farmer won’t let us dig it, for some unknown reason!
“I’m OK – I’ve still got a bit of a stockpile – but if I had to go quarrying tomorrow, I’ve got to be honest, I wouldn’t know where to go, so if any youngster wanted to come on, they’d have big problems finding the stone. I wouldn’t advise any youngsters to take it on. If I had young kids I’d tell them not to: simple as that.”
There are other aspects to serpentine turning which might not appeal to future generations. Like other ‘ultramafic’ rocks, serpentine contains naturally occurring asbestos, which is harmless when contained within the stone, but could be hazardous when it becomes airborne dust.
For all its faults, though, John is grateful to the stone that has been part of his life for more than 60 years.
“I’ve made a good living out of it all my life. I’m still doing a bit now – I don’t really need to, but I’ve got the little shop and, well, you’ve got to do something, haven’t you.”
But along with other local serpentine turners such as Derek Pitman, Robert Casley, David Hill and Billy Lovell, will John and Gary really be the last to make a living from this craft that grew out of the Lizard?
“We’re a dying trade, I’m afraid,” John sighs. “It’s a pity, because serpentine turning has been going on since way before my time, and it’s been going on all my life, and now it’s coming to an end. Gary will probably be the last one.”
In response to this unwanted honour Gary says: “It’s a possibility, unfortunately: but it’s sourcing the stone. If you don’t get the knowledge passed down of what the right stone is to work you could be wasting a lot of time at the beginning, and it would probably put a lot of people off.”
I change the mood with a tonguein-cheek question and ask John if he thinks he’ll go for a serpentine gravestone.
“No, I don’t think I will,” he laughs. “Somebody might pinch it!”
If I had to go quarrying tomorrow, I’ve got to be honest, I wouldn’t know where to go
JOHN HENDY