Wigan, 1906

Wigan Observer and District Advertiser, Friday 20th April 1906.
Under the Clock.
The Superstitions of the Miner.
There is perhaps no other worker, not even the sailor, who is more superstitious than the miner, and only the people living in a mining district such as Wigan know how superstitious the bravest of men may sometimes be. The industries of peace have their heroes as well as the fields of battle, and nowhere is heroism more manifest than in mining districts where some great catastrophe has overtaken the workers below ground. All the keen, cool daring of which flesh and blood is capable then manifests itself in the pitman, who, having escaped the fire himself, risks his life to save his brother worker. And yet, brave as the pitman may be, he is most superstitious. For instance, if the miner in the country districts round about Wigan sees a woman out-of-doors at five o'clock in the morning he is seized with an impulse to turn back and go home. A woman seen out of doors as a miner goes to his work is supposed to bode ill, and there is many a miner who even to-day would aver that he has more than once saved himself from harm by observing the custom which, in towns, is fast dying out. The English miner, too, believes in the prophecy of dreams, and now and then even the matter of fact evidence at an inquest would seem to support the validity of a superstition that has been set aside.

The disastrous explosion at Courrieres [?s] the fact that legends of the mine exists in France as well as in England. Even at Courrieres, as a writer in a contemporary points out, they have their "Black Miner," a spectral creature with dark skin and flashing eyes who works in the remote parts of the mines, and the men can hear the tick-tack of his pick against the seams. Sometimes they encounter the "Black Miner," who takes no notice of them, but continues his toil for a minute or two before their frightened eyes, and then disappears. When he has been seen or heard the colliers of the Pas du Nord become nervous, and may stop work for a day or two. It is now said that the "Black Miner" has often been encountered of late. But the men of the Pas du Nord are not easily dismayed. The miners go to their work singing -
"Quand now somm's de cinq cents pieds sous terre,
Nous ne craignons ni grele ni tonnerre."

In the valley of the Loire there are certain parts of the mine where no miner dares to trespass. It is well understood among the men that the dwellers in these dark places are to be left severely alone. Yet they are kindly sprites, and sometimes take the shape of dwarf miners. When they are seen with their tiny pickaxes across their shoulders danger is at hand. The "Petits Mineurs" are paid their wages regularly in the shape of a small money offering that is placed just on the border line of their own dark territory. The money disappears almost immediately, and the men are convinced that it has been duly collected by "Le P'tit." In the Central Provinces the spirits never appear when the men are at work. But afterwards gangs of ghostly miners take possession, and those above can hear the sharp sound of the pick, the movements of the waggons, and words of command.

The miners in Zola's "Germinal" fear the "Black Man" who lurks in the black recesses of the galleries, as a writer in T.P.'s Weekly points out. The fire-damp was once supposed to be the vengeance of some Pluto-like lord of the underworld, jealously guarding his black diamonds. Even now, some of these northern miners will talk of the "bianque besse," the white bat which is seen flitting, banshee-like, among the workers before the dreaded explosion takes place, or of the white snow-like flakes which are harbingers of the same terrible danger.

In Central France the "little miner" is a kobold who plays Puck-like tricks on the men. Does a lamp go out, a tool break, a piece of timbering fall on a miner - he apostrophises the mischievous elf whom he suspects to be playing these practical jokes. The Vieux Garcon (old bachelor) is another legend. When the new shift is coming down in the cage, and all should be silence, the men hear the pick resound, the "bennes" rolling along the rails, and savage cries of "Ratata!" Then comes a crash, as if all had been destroyed. But when the gallery is reached, all is in order - it is but the "Vieux Garcon."

The same sprite is supposed to haunt the Breton mines, but here he plays a more useful role. He watches over the miners, and by ghostly blows of the hammer (heard, but never seen), he indicates when timbers are rotting and danger lurks. Let us hope this belief does not tend to that neglect which, in a mine, is apt to be so tragic in its results!