Kingswood, Bristol, 1880

 A Collier's Superstition.

It is stated at an inquest held on the body of the man Hudd, who was killed at the Deep Pit, Kingswood, that one of the witnesses declared just after the accident that he had seen the ghost of the deceased man walk up the incline leading to the bottom of the shaft.

Cardiff Times, 24th July 1880.

Denaby Main, South Yorkshire, 1883

 The Coroner and the Superstition of Colliers.

An inquest was held at the Reresby Arms, Denaby Main, yesterday, before Mr Wightman, coroner, and a jury, of whom Mr Longley was foreman, touching the death of John Wall, aged 14 years, until recently employed at the Denaby Main Colliery. Mr Gerrard, HM Inspector of mines, was present, and Mr Chambers, manager of the colliery, appeared to watch the case on behalf of the colliery company.

Benjamin Wall, a collier, employed at Denaby Main, said he was the deceased's father. His son would have been 14 years of age next birthday, and had been employed in the pit for one year and five months as a pony driver. Both himself and his son were employed on the night shift. Deceased worked in the drift; he was not subject to fits nor to attacks of giddiness. He did not hear of the accident until ten minutes to seven the next morning. His son was brought home dead at seven o'clock. From what he could learn respecting the accident he had no occasion to blame anyone concerning the matter. In answer to a question as to whether the deceased was kept in the pit for something like two or three hours before the doctor saw him, the witness said he heard that the accident took place somewhere about four in the morning.

John Wharmsley, contractor for driving a stone dritt, said he knew the deceased, who was a pony driver. He would have had to drive his pony perhaps 200 yards. The tubs drawn by the animal were laden with stone, not coal. He last saw the deceased alive about five o'clock on the morning of Friday. He was then starting away with one tub. Witness saw him start; he was walking; he did not ride, as he was not allowed to do so. Deceased generally used his iron lockers, but on that occasion he only had one iron and one wooden one. The incline gradient was 1 1/4 inch in a yard. When he next saw the deceased, the boy was lying dead.

James Holland corroborated the evidence given previously respecting the finding of the body. He did not know how the accident had happened. No stone had dropped from the corve, and it did not seem as if it had been off the rails. The boy had driven the pony for six months on the same road, and for the same men. There were 15 cwt. or 16cwt. of stone in the tub. He helped to carry the body a distance of 35 yards from the scene of the accident, and about 300 yards from the pit bottom. Deceased was dead when he was found. 

In answer to a question from the Foreman respecting why the body had been kept to the pit until seven o'clock in the morning, witness said he had nothing to do with it. 

The Coroner: If you had kept him in the pit for two hours alive when injured, it would have raised a very nasty question for some of you. The witness said he believed the body was not removed so quickly as otherwise it might have been out of due respect for the father's feelings. It was thought advisable to let the father get out of the pit, instead of taking the body straight to his son in the bottom. Mr Chambers said that was the object for which the body was kept. The Coroner said it was for the father of the deceased to complain if anyone did.

A Juror said a doctor should have been sent for, but that was not done, as the body was put on one side. The witness said the body was not put on one side. A Juror: The body was kept back on purpose to keep the pit from playing. The Witness: No man breathing can say that. The Coroner then inquired of the father of the deceased whether he found any fault with the way in which the body was treated after dead. - He said he did not know which boy was injured for some time [sic]. The Coroner said they had heard what the last witness had said. 

One juryman thought that there had been very indecent delay in not getting the body of the deceased out of the pit. He (the deceased's father) had heard that there was an obstruction in the pit, which was full of empty corves, and that the body was not removed immediately out of respect for him. Mr Law said one man came to his house and said they could not make it convenient to get the body out until the full corves were removed. He had heard of the accident, but could not learn whowas the injured party, although something struck him that his boy was injured. He kept waiting to see his two boys coming.

The Coroner said he and the inspector were both satisfied that the affair was an accident. If the lad had been alive, had shown any symptom of life whatever, and had been kept in the pit for two hours, one hour, or even a half or a quarter of an hour, it would come with a very bad grace, and he would have felt bound to express a very strong opinion on the matter. If the lad was dead beyond all earthy doubt, it did not seem to him that there was any necessity for the urgency or haste that there would be if the lad was alive. 

Holland's explanation was really a bit of fine feeling - that they did not like to go and plump the father in the face with his dead son. He did not know whether there was any superstition in the case. He was told that all the men in a pit insisted on throwing their tools down directly a man was killed, and would not work while a dead body was in the pit. It was merely superstition. He did not know why they all gave over working because there was a man killed. He did not see the necessity for closing a pit because a man was killed. He was quite of opinion with the inspector that it was an accident pure and simple. With regard to the circumstance of the case as to how the boy was killed, he said it must remain a mystery, as no one observed the accident or could give a clue as to how it was caused.

The Foreman: Why didn't they let the men know that there was a dead body in the pit? The Coroner: That's a bit of superstition, I suppose. Another Juror: I don't see how a man is capable of judging whether another one is dead or not if he is not a medical practitioner. The Coroner said if there had been any question as to the death, that subject would have arisen. A verdict of "Accidental death" was then returned.

Sheffield Independent, 24th July 1883.

Derbyshire, 1880

In another case recorded this week the ending was not so happy, especially to one of the parties concerned, resulting as it did in an appeal to the County Magistrate, and in three months' hard labour to the astrologer involved. The scene is shifted from the Highlands [prev. story] to Derbyshire, and the two chief actors are not crofters but colliers. It would appear that one Levi Cooke eked out his income as a collier by the proceeds of such soothsaying as he could manage to secure. 

A brother collier named PAtrick Smith loses £90, and he, accordingly, knowing Levi's acquaintance with black art, applied to him, asking who had the money. Having heard Patrick's tale of his misfortune, the wise man consulted a book, looked grave, and wrote something mysterious on a slate. He was at last able to inform the anxious inquirer that the money would be returned. The person who had taken it would bring it back. For this satisfactory information Smith paid the astrologer two shillings. Ten days pass away, and yet no money comes back. Another call on the necromancer results in another assurance that the money would certainly be returned. Meantime, as if to make matters doubly sure, the professional man gives the loser of the money a round piece of glass to look through, but nothing came of it - at least no money to Smith.

Somehow or other the police were induced to make a call on the wizard, whose house was found to contain a large number of mystic lore, including "Celestial Philosophy," "Orion's Prophetic Guide and Weather Almanac," and several copybooks filled with discourses on astrology. There was a note which ran thus:- "She can have prescriptions from me, and advice for 14 stamps each time until the evil spirits are expelled from her blood and body." Letters were also discovered showing that this learned collier's patients had as much confidence in him as had ever one in his family physician.

What the collier made off his clientele may be supposed to have been considerably more than collier ever made in the mine even in the palmy days of chicken and champagne. But the efforts of the best and most beneficient of the friends of the people are sometimes very ungraciously received. The great unpaid did not show that sympathy with this philanthropic collier that might have been expected from so enlightened a body, the result being that Cooke, like other benefactors born too soon, has been laid up in prison, not to be restored to his native village till three long moons have rolled away. [...]

Dundee Courier, 16th July 1880.

Midlands and Northern England, 1880

 The pitmen in the Midland Counties have or had a belief, unknown to the North, in aerial whistlings, warning them against the pit. Who or what the invisible musicians were nobody pretended to know, but for all that they must have been counted and found to consist of seven, as the seven whistlers is the name they bear to this day.

Two goblins were believed to haunt the Northern mines. One was a spiteful elf who indicated his presence only by the mischief he perpetrated; he rejoiced in the name of "Cutty Soams," and appears to have employed himself only in the stupid device of severing the rope traces, or seams [scams?], by which an assistant putter, honoured by the title of 'the fool', is yoked to the tub. -The strands of hemp which were left all sound in the board at 'kenner-time' were found next morning severed in twain. 'Cutty Soams has been at work,' would the fool and his driver say, dolefully knotting the cord. The other goblin was altogether a more sensible, and indeed an honest and hard-working bogie, much akin to the Scotch brownie, or the hairy fiend whom Milton rather scurvily apostrophises as a lubber. 

The supernatural person in question was no other than a ghostly putter, and his name was 'Bluecap'. Sometimes the miners would see a light blue flame flicker through the air and settle on a full coal tub, which immediately moved towards the rolley-way as though impelled by the sturdiest sinews in working. Industrious Bluecap was at his vocation, but he required, and rightly, to be paid for his services, which he modestly rated as those of an ordinary average putter; therefore once a fortnight Bluecap's wages were left for him in a solitary corner of the mine. If they were a farthing below his due, the indignant Bluecap would not pocket a stiver; if they were a farthing above his due, the indignant Bluecap left the surplus where he found it.

The writer asked his informant, a hewer, wehter, if Bluecap's wages were now-a-days left him, he thought they would be appropriated. The man shrewedly answered he thought they would be taken by Bluecap or somebody else.

Cornubian and Redruth Times, 19th November 1880.

Medical treatment, 1880s

Globe, Wednesday 6th October 1886.
Gas suffocation.
The recent fatal quarry and colliery incidents have brought to the fore certain local remedies for suffocation by gases. One popular remedy in particular has been much ridiculed, and stoutly defended. The treatment recommended is that of placing the body of the patient face downwards on a steep incline to facilitate the escape of the heavy poisonous gases; and this method is coupled in many mining districts with the application of newly turned up earth or of water.

These remedies have been handed down among miners from generation to generation; but their scientific value is not very apparent. In the case of a colliery explosion, suffocation is produced by carbonic acid. Of the gases produced by an explosion of blasting powder, about 55 per cent. is carbonic acid, 25 per cent. nitrogen, and 15 per cent. carbonic oxide - a particularly poisonous gas.

Now, part of this popular treatment depends upon the fact that a heavy gas, such as carbonic acid, can be poured out downwards - a fact which, in the first place, would not affect those lighter gases, carbonic oxide and nitrogen. Then, however efficatious this method may be in the case of carbonic acid, it does not meet the difficulty that this fatal gas has already largely entered the lungs. No amount of downward tilting can counteract the effects of the gas which has thus been inhaled: they can only be neutralised by a free supply of oxygen. It is probable, therefore, that the miners' superstition is only in this way valuable.

Agitation of the body serves, as in the case of a drowned person, to stimulate the action of the lungs, and induce them to inhale oxygen. The further addition of newly-turned earth or water is probably only useful as a means of refreshing and reviving the drooping system. This is not the only case in which a valuable remedy is found in general use, coupled with a complete misconception of the manner in which it operated.

How Our Miners Live.

A week in the South Wales Coalfield.

Having dealt with the historical aspect of the South Wales coal trade, in a cursory and perfunctory manner it is true, but at least sufficiently to clear the ground for a connected and consecutive inquiry, I will now proceed to deal more intimately with the actual subject under notice, and describe the work the miner performs, and what he is, and has been, paid for it. It is important to give these facts thus early for the vital reason that, after all else has been said, the nature of the miner's toil and the remuneration which he receives therefore are the solid bases upon which every other consideration impinges, whether political or social, individual or organic.

To rise with the miner in the morning one must be stirring early. He goes to his work about 6 a.m., for every man is obliged to be at the bottom of the pit before seven o'clock. Here, at the very outset, it is a remarkable fact that several hundreds, if not thousands, of men in the Rhondda, Aberdare, and Merthyr Valleys do what many London flaneurs would consider a fatiguing day's work before they even handle pick and shovel. Say on such a morning as that of Tuesday last, when the pleasant autumn weather of the past weeks was suddenly replaced by an almost arctic temperature, how would one of our "gilded youth" like to leave his bed at Merthyr and trudge five miles over one of the highest and bleakest mountains in the district to a colliery at Cwmpennar, after being fortified against the wintry blast by a draught of weak coffee, supplemented by a modicum of bread and, perhaps, some fried bacon? Yet there are scores of colliers who do this in all weathers, rain or shine, with wind or blinding snowstorm, and medical evidence is forthcoming that when a man is in a weak state of health the exercise and exposure caused by such long walks, apart altogether from the actual labour performed by the collier, are most injurious to the constitution.

Well, the bottom of the shaft is reached at last, but in many instances further pedestrian exercise awaits the miner, for he often has to walk half a mile or a mile before the locale of his day's work is gained. It is useless to follow his methods of work in detail. Suffice it to say that for the next eight or nine hours he delves and hews and shovels with might and main until he has worn himself out with exertion. There is not a single pleasant or invigorating feature about the occupation. Ploughing is hard work, but the man engaged thereat is inspired by the ever-varying beauties of nature, whilst the song of the thrush or the blackbird is so tuneful to the ear that the plough-boy who does not indulge in an emulative whistle is capable of crimes before which Shakespeare's unmusical man would pale. In most other avocations, no matter how wearisome or engrossing, there is some such relaxing feature, but the only diversion afforded the collier is the arrival of a fresh tram, combined with a possibility of being crushed to death or burnt to an unrecognisable cinder at any moment.

Yet in the dark recesses of the coal mine there lurk superstition and imaginative mystery. What can be more weird and gruesome than a deserted pit, and where else could a living mortal have any realistic conception of the silence of the grave? Not even the ordinary sounds of nature can be heard, whilst the black void may be readily peopled with uncanny phantasms. Did not Will Gwyn, under such conditions, whilst working a quiet hour's overtime in the Cwm Shon Pit, see his own living wraith carried past his stall on a noiseless tram, and escorted by a ghostlike troupe? And would any of his mates ever forget the look of wild horror on his face when, six months later, they carried him mortally injured past the same stall? But legendary lore is surely out of place in the midst of a diatribe on work and wages.

About four p.m. the miner concludes his day's toil, which is unbroken save for an interval of 10 minutes for dinner, and he re ascends to the surface, glad enough no doubt to see the sky above his head once more. There are occasions, however, when he does not come up the pit shaft the same healthy, animated human being that he went down in the morning. Whilst he and his mates are busily employed hundred of yards beneath the earth's surface, those who live near the colliery are suddenly electrified by a deep, sullen boom, which resounds through the air, and frightened wives and mothers who rush to the open doors of the cottages see an unwonted column of smoke, and steam, and dust rising from the pit-mouth. No need is there to tell them what has happened, for brave men are already preparing to descend into the cavernous depths only to return ere long with a ghastly load of corpses, charred and shattered out of all human semblance.

An explosion is only one out of many risks which the collier runs, but it is usually the most appalling from its magnitude and extent. If he returns to the earth's crust safe and sound, he has five miles to walk homewards (this, of course, being an extreme through plentiful case so far as distance is concerned), and a sorry-looking object he is with his black face and hands and coal dust-laden clothes, a striking antithesis to the occupants of his employer's landau as it dashes past him on the road.

Assuredly this man has done a genuine hard day's work. What is he paid for it? - From 3s 7d to 4s 6d as a general average, so that if he is lucky enough to obtain six shifts in a week he earns between 21s 6d and 27s per week. An employer told me yesterday that the hard-working men in his colliery could make from 30s to 35s per week. This may be so in individual cases, and when full time is worked, but as a matter of fact at the present day, owing to reductions, stoppages, restriction of shifts, and other causes, the number of miners in South Wales who receive less than a guinea per week greatly exceeds those who earn a larger sum. But festina ente - this crucial question of the wage-rate requires some little scrutiny and amplification. In a work entitled "The Colliers' Strike in South Wales," written by Mr Alexander Dalziel, there is a tabulated statement which shows the fluctuations in wages for day labour at the Aberdare pits from 1848 to 1872. The figures are probably reliable, though the general tone of the work is one of ill-concealed hostility to the men and open animosity to the Miners' Union. From this, then, it appears that between 1848 and 1871 the daily wage rate averaged 3s 4d. In February, 1872, it was raised to 3s 7d, and in June of the same year a further advance was effected to 3s 11d.

Then came the halcyon period of 1873-4, when a collier thought he had done a poor day's work if he had not earned more than 12s, and it was no infrequent thing for a man's monthly receipts to be £20, "which I've had paid down solid into my hand," as one informant told me. Unfortunatley the same story of neglected opportunity, of riotous living, and absurdly extravagant expenditure has to be repeated in the case of South Wales as in every other instance where fabulous sums were realised unexpectedly by persons previously unaccustomed to such earnings. During those same years, the Northumbrian pitman used to leave Seghill on a Saturday afternoon, and go into Newcastle in gorgeous array. there he would drink champagne because it was expensive, though he really preferred beer. As a compromise, he would quaff the vintage of the sunny south from a pint pewter pot. He was given to even more laughable heights, or depths, of foolishness, for there is a well-accredited tale of how a couple of miners from Upgang, whilst dining in a restaurant, swallowed the entired contents of a bottle of Chutnee sauce because they had seen a gentleman at another table helping himself to some. So it was in South Wales, though it would appear that here exesses were chiefly directed to matters of personal adornment and bedizening the wife and daughters. However, no tangible good, save a warning for the future, can be achieved by recrimination over past wastefulness.

All too soon came the certain retribution, for in 1875 occurred the great strike and lock-out, which brought thousands to the verge of starvation. But an even worse period was in store for South Wales. the opening days of 1878 were darkened by stories of distress, which was described in the London newspapers in a highly sensational manner. According to a correspondent of the Times - an ill-fated journal which now, as then, seems to be destined to be misinformed as to Welsh matters - people were feeding in some places on potato-peelings, raw cabbage leaves, and brewers' grains; whilst in Merthyr hundreds in a state of semi-starvation could be seen turning over the refuse in the search for food.

Though the statements were highly exaggerated, the distress in South Wales and Monmouthshire was exceptionally severe. Many of the collieries were idle, and at the utmost only two or three days' work per week could be given. Lord Aberdare, with his usual philanthropy, laboured hard at this juncture to relieve the afflicted. He distributed soup in hundreds of quarts per day, and Lady Aberdare started a clothing estaablishment at Duffryn where necessary garments were made for free distribution. Mr Simons, of Merthyr, and also many others, did much in this way. At the same time Lord Aberdare denied in the columns of the Times that the colliers were in the condition of the Madrasees and Mysoreans, with whom they had been compared. The bulk of the colliery population was able to maintain the struggle, although with difficulty and many privations, without receiving aid from the rates or even private charity. There have been periods of distress in the interim, but not of such an exceptional character. Last winter, for instance, steps were taken to form a relief fund at Merthyr, where, in addition to many other districts, privation made itself keenly felt. In fact, let the miner be thrown out of work for a week, and he is immediately on the verge of starvation.

It is possible for a man earning 21s per week to adequately maintain a wife and family and at the same time to save money? Most people would return a negative answer to this question, but the position is rendered worse by the fact that perhaps in one week, owing to a slackness in demand, the collier can only work one or two days. He must live, if only on bread and tea, and to do this he gets into debt which it takes weeks to wipe out. the picture is not a pleasant one.

A sympathetic write-up in the South Wales Echo, 14th October 1887.

Ascension day superstitions

Thursday was carefully observed at the Bethesda slate quarries, not, however out of respect to the religious character of the day, but in deference to a superstition which has lingered for many years amongst the Penrhyn quarrymen, that working on Ascension Day, or Holy Thursday as it is better known in the district, was sure to be attended with a fatality or accidents of a serious charachter. Some six years back, the management succeeded in partly overcoming this feeling, and several of the men worked, an arrangement which was continued about two years. Strange to say, there was always an accident, and Ascension Day continues to be an idle day so far as the Penrhyn quarrymen are concerned.
Cheshire Observer,  24th May 1879



A Welsh Quarry Superstition.
Edinburgh Evening News, Friday 27th May 1881.
Superstition among quarrymen.
The old superstition which has existed for many years amongst the quarrymen engaged at Lord Penrhyn's extensive Carnarvonshire slate quarries, that working on Ascension Day is always attended with an accident, prevailed yesterday, and although, owing to the slackness of the market, the quarries have for some months been working only four days weekly, not a man went near yesterday. Seven years ago the management succeeded in persuading the men to disregard the superstition and go to work, but it was noticed that each year the custom was broken, serious accidents occurred.



Yesterday, work at Lord Penrhyn's slate quarries at Bethesda was entirely suspended, not out of any religious regard, but in deference to the belief that has long lingered in the district that working on Ascension Day is invariably accompanied by some serious accident. Several years ago the management induced the men to disregard this feeling, but every year there was an accident, and now not a man will venture into the quarries on "Holy Thursday," as it is locally termed.


Nottingham Evening Post, Saturday May 12th 1888.
Superstitions die hard. That Friday is a dies infausta is still a prime article in the creed of our sailors, and though you adduced all the practical disproof possible you could not get them to set sail with a light heart on the sixth day of the week. A similar superstition, it appears, exists in the Welsh slate quarries, but fortunately it only attaches to one day of the year, and not one in every week. Thursday being Ascension Day, the numerous workmen in Lord Penrhyn's slate quarries all suspended work, not because, being mostly Dissenters, they had any special regard for the sanctity of the day, but because there exists a lingering tradition, handed down from those early times when the old faith was still predominant, and the voice of the angelus was heard on every hill, that accident would follow labour on that day. Curiously enough a successful attempt to induce the men to ignore their traditions has more deeply rooted the superstition in their minds. Some years ago, it appears that the managers of Lord Penrhyn's quarries, after enormous trouble, succeeded in inducing the men to continue work on Ascension Day. But that year there was an accident - hardly a very marvellous occurrence where so many men are employed - and the consequence is that no man can now be persuaded to go near the quarries on Ascension day. [churnalism]




Lancashire Evening Post, 8th May 1891.





Thursday, being Ascension Day, there was a complete cessation of work at the Bethesda slate quarries. This is occasioned, not by any religious regard for the day, but because of the feeling long prevalent that work on Ascension Day is inevitably attended with accident. No quarryman will set foot in the quarries on that day. The slate trade is extremely brisk here and in other parts of Carnarvonshire.

Blackburn Standard,  25th May 1895.


Nottingham Evening Post, Friday 2nd June 1905.
Superstitious Quarrymen.
In deference to a superstition which has prevailed for many years, there was yesterday a complete cessation of work at Lord Penrhyn's quarries at Bethesda, where 4,000 men are employed. The superstition owes its origin to a succession of fatal accidents on Ascension Day. Some years ago the management succeeded in inducing the employees to remain at their posts, but, strange to relate, a fatal accident occurred, and now not a single quarryman will venture into the workings on what is locally known as Holy Thursday.


Nottingham Evening Post, Thursday 10th May 1923.
A Miners' Superstition.
Ascension Day, associated in many districts with the old-time ceremonial of "beating the bounds," has a sinister reputation among the Penrhyn quarrymen. There is a long-standing superstition that no work must be done in the quarries on this day or evil will result, and for many years, therefore, Ascension Day has been a day of idleness in Penrhyn.

Some years ago the managers did persuade a number of men to work, but, sure enough, a serious accident occurred, and since then the quarrymen have refused to risk a defiance of superstition.




Quarry owners yesterday intimated to the North Wales quarrymen that a free day in August will be granted to the men as compensation for working on Ascension Day in disregard of the old superstition that it is fatal to work on that day.
 Shields Daily News, 23rd May 1925.

 Western Mail, Saturday 28th May 1927.
Bethesda Quarrymen and Ascension Day.
Time was when the 3,000 quarrymen at Lord Penrhyn's Quarry at Bethesda declined to work on Ascension Day, not for any religious motive, but in deference to a superstition that work on that day would inevitably be accompanied by an accident. Fatal accidents did occur until the day was observed as a holiday, but gradually the men overcame the superstition and now work as usual that day.