Cornish miners - Cornubian and Redruth Times October 1906

 Miners' Superstitions.

Miners say that they often see little imps or demons underground. Their presence is considered favourable; they indicate the presence of lodes about which they work during the absence of the miners.

Miners do not like the form of the cross being made underground. A man going through some "levels" or "adits," made a cross by the side of one, to know his way back, as he would have to return by himself. He was compelled to alter it into another form.

If miners saw a sail when going to "bal" in the morning, they used always to drop a piece of tallow from their candles.

Christmas Eve in the Mines.

On Christmas Eve, in former days, the small people, or spriggans, would meet at the bottom of the deepest mines, and have a midnight mass. Then those who were in the mind would hear voices singing, "Now well; now well;" and the strains of some deep-toned organ would shake the rocks. Of the grandeur of those meetings, old stories could not find words sufficiently sonorous to speak; it was therefore left to the imagination, but this was certain, the temple formed by the fairy bands in which to celebrate the eve of the birth of a Saviour, in whose mercy they all had hope, was of the most magnificent description. Midsummer-eve and new-year's day and eve are holidays with the miners. It has been said they refuse to work on those days from superstitious reasons. I never heard of any.

Warnings and "Tokens."

Amongst the mining population there is a deeply-rooted belief in warnings. The following related by a very respectable man, formerly a miner, well illustrates this:-

My father, when a lad, worked with a companion (James or 'Jim', as he was called) in Germow. They lived close by Old Wheal Grey in Breage. One evening, the daughter of the person with whom they lodged came in to her mother, crying, "Billy and Jim ben out theer for more than a hour, and I ben chasin them among the Kilur banks, and they wasn't lev me catch them. As fast as I do go to one, they do go to another." "Hould your tongue, child," said the mother; "'twas their forenoon core, and they both ben up in bed this houre."

"I'm sure I ben chasin them," said the girl. The mother then went upstairs and awoke the lads, telling them the story. One of them said "Tis a warning; something will happen in an old end, and I shan't go to mine this core." "Nonsense," said the other; "don't let us be so foolish; the child has been playing with some strangers, and it isn't worth while to be spaled for any such foolishness." "I tell you," replied the other, "I won'[t go." As it was useless for one man to go alone, both remained away. In the course of the night, however, a run took place in the end they were working in, and tens of thousands of tons of kibblefuls came away. Had they been at work, it was scarcely possible for them to have escaped."

At Wheal Vor it has always been and is now believed that a fatal accident in the mine is presaged by the appearance of a hare or white rabbit in one of the engine-houses. The men solemnly declare that they have chansed these appearances till they were hammed in apparently, without being able to catch them. The white rabbit on one occasion being run into a "windbore" lying on the ground,  and, though stopped in, escaped. In this mine there appears to be a general belief among the men in "tokens" and supernatural appearances. A few months ago, a fine old man reported, on being relieved from his turn as watcher, that during the night he heard a loud sound like the emptying of a cartload of rubbish in front of the account-house, where he was staying. On going out, nothing was to be seen. The poor fellow, considering the strange sound as a "warning," pined away and died within a few weeks.

The Ghost on Horseback.

Billy and John, working at Wheal Vor, were in the habit, early in the morning, of calling out a dog or two, kept by the occupier of an adjoining farm, and with them hunt over the Godolphin warren adjoining. One morning, while thus engaged, one of them gave the alarm that a man on horseback was coming down the road. "Tisn't possible," said the other; "no horse can ever come over that road." "There is a horse, and old Cap'n T. is upon it," replied the first. "Hold thy tongue," rejoined his comrade; "he's dead months ago." "I know that; but 'tis he, sure enough." Both crouched down behind a bush; and my informant, whose father was one of the parties, declared that the appearance of Capt. T., on a black horse, passed noiselessly down the road immediately before them, but without noticing their appearance.

The Black Dogs.

About seventy years since, a man and a lad were engaged in sinking a shaft at Wheal Vor mine, when the lad through carelessness or accident, missed in charging a hole, so that a necessity arose for the dangerous operation of picking out the chartge. This they proceeded to do, the man severely reprimanding the carelessness of his assistant. Several other miners at the time about being to change their core, were on the plat above, calling down and conversing occasionally with man and boy. Suddenly the charge exploded, and the latter were seen to be thrown up in the midst of a volume of flame. As soon as help could be procured, a party descended, when the remains fo the poor fellows were found to be shattered and scorched beyond recognition. When these were brought to the surface, the clothes and a mass of mangled flesh dropped from the bodies. A bystander, to spare the feelings of the relatives, hastily caught the revolting mass in a shovel, adn threw the whole into the blazing furnace Woolf's engine, close at hand. From that time the engineman declared that troops of little black dogs continually haunted the place, even when the doors were shut. Few of them like to talk about it; but it was difficult to obtain the necessary attendance to work the machine.

Abertridwr, Caerphilly

Superstitious Colliers.
Despite every inducement to it to make another appearance, no more has been seen of the Abertridwr ghost. The victim of the alleged manifestations, who before the recent ghost scare was employed at one of the local collieries, is now (according to the "South Wales Daily News" debarred from descending the shaft. The colliers in the district are said to ahve made representations that the presence of a "haunted man" in the colliery would be a foreboding of evil. The victim has received many letters of advice upon the matter, but no enclosures. The letters come from all parts of the country, and offer various suggestions for solving the mystery. One writer recommends that he should sleep with a number of knives under his bed, stating that this "cure" had proved effectual in the case of a child who was under a "spell."
Northern Daily Telegraph, 8th March 1906

Coalisland, Tyrone, Northern Ireland (1900s)

Ghost Scare in Ireland.

A Belfast correspondent telegraphs that the district of Coalisland, Tyrone, is in a state of terror in consequence of the nightly visitation of a "ghost." The coal miners have several times refused to work at night despite the visits and assurances of local clergy-men. The spectre is that of a woman dressed in white. Large numbers of men declare they have seen the figure between midnight and three in the morning.
Derby Daily Telegraph, 5th December 1906.

 

Spook or Donkey?

Irish Miners Terrified into Prayer by a "Ghost".

(From Our Own Correspondent.) Belfast, Wednesday Night.

During the past few days a "ghost" of terrifying aspect, has caused much consternation among the men employed at the coal-pit at Red Row, Coalisland. I interviewed to-day the men working at the pit regarding the visitor. Amongst those by whom the "ghost" has been seen are the following workmen: Bernard Quinn, King's Row, Coalisland; Joe Hararan, Annagher; James Hughes, Derry; Joe McMahon, Braekaville, and the latter's father, John McMahon, who works at the Roan Spinning Mill. These are the men, bright and intelligent, with whom I conversed and from whom I obtained the following statement:

James Hughes saw the "ghost" first on the morning of Nov. 28th, at about half-past one o'clock. It was walking round the shed at the gable end of the Red Row, which is about 25 yards from the pit. Joe McMahon saw it after Hughes. It was dressed in white, and had a white cover on its head. You could not see arms nor legs on it, nevertheless it wore distinctly the shape of a human being. On Thursday morning, about the same hour as on Wednesday, Joe Hararan, Bernard Quinn, and John and Joe McMahon were sitting in the cabin, when they all saw the ghost, about two yards from the chestnut tree. 

The apparition, they say, looked like a man or a woman. Jas. Hughes and Joe Hararan walked out on the ban and looked at it for a minute or so. They then came in and sat down, the ghost standing all the time. About two minutes later it moved on again, and the four men then knelt and began to pray, whereupon the ghost came over the ditch into the field that the pit is in and disappeared, apparently, into the earth.

On Saturday morning the ghost came at ten minutes past one o'clock, and stopped at the Red Row corner for about three minutes, and then walked right past the chestnut tree, where it disappeared. It was then "in the shape of a four-footed animal, about the size of a sheep, and had a tail about two feet long, and ears about eighteen inches." About ten minutes later it reappeared, but this time it was like a human being, but all white - dazzling white. It stood now on the middle of the road, about twenty yards from the pit, and a while after walked through a gate into a field.

The men have not seen it since. They all say the apparition would terrify anybody.

London Daily News, 6th December 1906.

 

 Coalisland "Ghost" Turns Out To Be A Donkey.

For some time past the inhabitants of Coalisland and the surrounding district have been considerably alarmed by the reported appearance of a ghost near the old coalpits. Youths and maidens, and even those of riper years, were afraid to move out of doors after sunset. Various theories were advanced to account for the strange apparitions. Search parties were organised, and some daring individuals waited the other night with the coalers till the visitor arrived, when it was discovered that the "ghost" was no other than Mr. John Corr's grey donkey, which, it seems, is in the habit of roaming about after night near the old coalpits.

Belfast News-Letter, 13th December 1906.

Cornish miners

The festivals still celebrated by the Cornish miners are probably Christmas survivals of the Pagan customs of doing honour to the gods for the enrichment of the earth. On the second Thursday before Christmas - Picrons-day - some Cornish miners feast in honour of St. Piran or St. Kinan, the supposed discoverer of tin, while others on the Thursday before Christmas observe the feast of Chewidden, in commemoration of the first manufacture of white or smelted tin.
Taunton Courier, and Western Advertiser. 12th December 1906.

Morfa Colliery

The Morfa Colliery, six years ago the scene of an explosion, been deserted in superstitious terror by the miners, and for some days past they have been gathered about the pit bank, deaf to all persuasions to resume work. Some of them heard, or think they have heard strange sounds in the workings, cries, groans and a "twittering music"; a heavy door in the roadway has been seen to open and shut of its own accord, and direst sign of all, a dove was found perched on a coal truck in the weighing house.

It is conceivable that a seismic tremor, or a settling of strata over the older workings, caused the sounds and movements thus described, and in either case there might be danger. Such sounds were heard just before the disaster of 1889. But the Welshmen will not have it so; they say that at such times the pit is haunted, and in proof of this they tell a gruesome story.

Before the last explosion an apparition, dressed in black oilskin suit descended from the shaft by the side of train of coal on the cage, and walked across the yard to a building that was to be afterwards used as a dead-house; and immediately after the explosion one of the officials of the colliery, dressed in the same manner did exactly as the apparition had done.

By the way of reassuring them, Mr. Robson, the Government inspector; Mr. Grey, the chief manager; and a small party of men went into the mine to make a strict examination; but as they found nothing changed, the scare continues.

Rhyl Record and Advertiser, 21st December 1895.

"Brownies" and "Knockers"

"Brownies" are by no means unknown in West Cornwall. Some few years ago a brownie was said to occasionally appear in a certain house in Chapel-street, Penzance. He was perfectly harmless, apparently portended nothing and when he came seated himself comfortably in a chair by the fireside. A prominent Penzance man once assured me he had seen him.

The existence of "knockers" will not be called in question by any true westcountryman. These are the "Old Men" working away underground at their old "Pitches" (i.e., workings). Unfortunately for the romance of the thing, they are generally heard in miners' cottages in remote country districts; but there have undoubtedly been cases in which the inhabitants of houses built over filled and forgotten mine shafts have heard some very queer noises, connected in all probability with blasts of gunpowder in the mine beneath them.
LINDUM.
(Reply to Query 883).

In 'The Cornish Telegraph' for 22nd October 1908. What does he mean, in the cottages? This makes it sound like more of a poltergeist and less connected to the knockers of the mines. I don't know. Brownies are usually found around the house.

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.

The Miners of Wynnstay.

The miners at the Wynnstay Colliery, says the Daily News, refused to go to work on Saturday, because Zadkiel had prophesied that a calamity would occur in Wales on that day. Now, we do not quite see what effect their abstention from work could have upon the calamity, if it were due, but perhaps some of them fancied that if such a thing were coming round that way, they might have a look at it. And it did come. The prophesy was fulfilled. The men lost a day's work, which their wives would consider a quite sufficient calamity. Moreover, when they wished to return to work yesterday, the Company informed them that there was no great demand for coal, and that they might as well go home again. Whether this combination of circumstances promises well for the discouragement of superstition in that quarter, it would be hard to say.

There was no sudden visitation of the cattle plague, no colliery accident, no unearthly darkness, or other phenomenon, that showed unusual agencies to be at work; but a calamity did certainly occur. Zadkiel is not always so fortunate; perhaps because there are not very many districts of England in which his followers abound in numbers and in faith, and are ready to lose a day's work in order to confirm his predictions.

The Cardiff Times, 17th May 1873.

I'm guessing this magazine is what 'Zadkiel' refers to. There's no need to be sarky when people's lives could be at stake. Really.

Chats with some of the miners.

[By our special correspondent.]

Ugh! When I stepped out of the train at Port Talbot on Thursday this was my first exclamation. The rain was falling in torrents, and the wind, blowing in fierce gusts, swished into my face in a most disagreeable manner. Disliking this quite as much as the Morfa colliers fear things supernatural, I hailed a hansom, which afforded me shelter until the rambling village of Taibach was reached. There I found that the same condition of affairs prevailed with regard to the colliery as on Tuesday. Groups of colliers stood or "squatted" wherever shelter could be found. They were busily engaged in discussing the situation. After a few rather ineffectual attempts to glean some information from these, I entered the new and spacious hotel recently erected at the entrance to the village. Several colliers were seated there, the theme of conversation being the same as that which occupied the attention of their fellow-workmen without.

"Strange affair?" I ventured.
"Yes, 'tis rather queer," was the reply of an intelligent-looking man, sitting near the fire. The men were perfectly civil and respectful to a degree, which is neither queer nor strange, considering that the benign influence of "Morien" has been felt in the district.

In the course of my investigation I endeavoured to discover the nature of the noises said to have been heard by the colliers. One old collier, who is still in harness, upon hearing my question, pointed the stem of his pipe at me, and said:- "One of the men who heard the strange sounds described them as resembling the noise of running 'drams' in the old workings. Now I remember many years ago when I was working in the Peprose Pits, hearing a warning like that. My mate said to me, 'John, somebody'll be killed in this colliery very soon.' I laughed at him, and said he was skeered, but before that night shift was over he himself was killed by a fall in the roof. Although I don't believe in what you newspaper men call superstition, I do not like to jeer at men when they hear things like that."

Another old collier remarked: - "You see, sir, we colliers aren't so simple as some would make us out to be. But these men have heard noises, and we shan't be satisfied until we learn that the pit is in thorough working order. We carry our lives in our hands, so to speak, and we have a right to be assured that things down there is as they ought to be. An inspection can do no harm, anyway."

All the men whom I spoke to await the report of their agent, Mr. Isaac Evans, before entertaining the proposition of returning to work. "Unless the condition of affairs is perfectly satisfactory at the Morfa, we won't resume work. we have every confidence in Mr. Isaac Evans, and shall abide by his advice," seemed to be the prevailing opinion.

After my interview with the colliers, I proceeded to the pit. It was a short journey - only about two miles - but it seemed almost interminable to me. I had barely set out when a fierce squall burst. the rain beat mercilessly against me, and the high wind rendered it impossible for me to protect myself with my umbrella. However, I made the best of a bad bargain, and when I reached the Morfa Pit I met with Mr. J. Dyer Lewis, sub-inspector of mines, and Mr. Isaac Evans returning from the pit., accompanied by Messrs. Maddocks and Aubrey, overment at the colliery. All were becomingly attired, and all carried a thick super-stratum of coal dust. Mr. Lewis reported everything in good condition, and said the men might return to work at once. I accompanied Mr. Isaac Evans on the return journey to the village.

Upon being asked his opinion as regards the alleged noises he said, "Well, I am not superstitious myself, and must admit not having inquired very closely into the matter. I am principally concerned in discovering whether the pit is in proper working order. At the same time, when one hears intelligent men of considerable experience saying such things, and having regard to what has already happened at the Morfa, it would be unwise to disregard altogether what they regard as premonitory warnings."
"How long have you been down to-day?"
"We went down at ten o'clock this morning, and returned to the surface at about three o'cloc."
"Do you consider the pit to be in good working order?"
"Yes; the Morfa coal is fine stuff. I don't think that there's a better seam than the Cribbwr existing."
"I didn't quite ask you that, Mr. Evans."
"No," he replied, with a perceptible twinkle in his eye. "Well," he continued, "I would prefer not giving an opinion now. I have to report to a meeting to-night. The men will decide as to whether they will return to work."
"How many men are employed?"
"About 250."
"Do you think that they will soon resume work?"
"They may or they may not. I can't say."
And with this unsatisfactory reply I had, perforce, to content myself.

On Thursday evening a meeting of the miners was held at the Somerset Hotel, Taibach, when Mr. Isaac Evans, miners' agent, submitted a lengthy report dealing with his investigation of the condition of the pit. After a protracted discussion it was decided that the men resume work this (Friday) morning.



A PARALLEL CASE TO THE MORFA CASE.
A COLLIER'S EXPERIENCE IN CWMAMAN.
Interesting Letter from Mr. W. Thomas, Bryn Awel.

We have received the following interesting communication from Mr. W. Thomas, Bryn Awel, Aberdare:--

To the Editor of the "Evening Express."
Sir, - It occurs to me that the following may interest some of your readers, and especially those of them who are employed at the Morfa Colliery:-
Some 25 years ago, when I was in charge of the Cwmaman Colliery, I had a fireman there who was one of the best, most truthful, and conscientious men that ever went down a coal-pit - a man named William Lewis. Late one evening he came to my house, and asked to have a word with me privately. His wish was, of course, at once complied with. When we were alone he told me his story, which was, shortly, as follows:--

While making his examination of the workings of his district the morning of the previous day he heard a report, and felt the effects of an explosion, and instantly turned aside to the mouth of a stall to shield himself from the effects of the blast. He remained there some time, when the slamming of an air-door further on, and nearer the face of the workings, attracted his attention. Knowing, as he did, that there was not a human being in any part of his district - all the night men having gone out, and the day men not having come in - he became much disturbed. However, on he went, and just as he reached the outer door of a pair of air-doors that were on the main heading, not far from where he had sheltered himself, it was opened by a person, whose name he gave; then came a haulier at the head of a horse, followed by a tram, in which were several dead bodies, all of whom, as well as the haulier and the men who followed the mournful cortege, he well knew, being persons who worked in his district. He for a minute or two, discussed the accident with these men, and told them to tell me, should they meet me coming in, that he had gone on to the face to make sure the air doors were all right, and that no old timber or brattice-cloth was smouldering there.

On reaching the working faces, however, he found all in order, and that even at the "faces" where the persons whose dead and charred bodies he had seen dead and disfigured used to work not a trace of an accident could be seen, and he became satisfied he had seen an apparition - "drychiolaeth." He continued the examination of his district, and came back to the locking cabin at the bottom of the pit a little later than usual, and there impatiently waiting him were, amongst others, the very persons whose dead bodies he had seen brought out in the tram an hour previously.

He had, he said, spent a very miserable couple of days, and had not slept a moment the previous night, and felt he was bound to come and tell me what he had seen, and thus warn me of the accident that was sure to follow. I tried to laugh him out of his fears, but soon found out that that would not do, so pretended to treat his statement seriously. I knew he had been ailing for some time, and suggested he should take a couple of weeks' holiday in order to pick himself up a bit, but this he would not hear of, saying he was not going to leave me in the lurch when he knew there was such a calamity in front of me in his district, and that he would see it through, come what may.

To soothe him it was arranged between us that extra precautions should be paid to the ventilation, and that his brother - who was also a fireman in another district in the same pit - the overman, and myself should visit the ventilating furnace frequently during the following days to see that it was properly attended to, and that he and the airway man should pay special attention should be paid to any blowers that might break down.

He then left me, and bravely continued his avocation for three or four weeks more, doing his work with marked ability and care, until his health would no longer permit him to do so, and in a very short time I and others had the mournful duty of accompanying to its final resting-place in the Aberdare Cemetery the remains of one of the most truthful, loyal, and conscientious men it has ever been my lot to know. Pob parch i'w gofiant.

That he believed every word he told me I am certain of, and I am equally certain that his "drychiolaeth" was due to the nervous condition he had been reduced to through protracted indisposition, and which illness, in spite of rest and change of air, soon brought him to his grave. I should add that no explosion ever took place in poor William's district, and that some of the men whose bodies he so graphically described as being burned and brought out in a tram are still alive, proving that my friend's "drychiolaeth" was the result of his own imagination, stimulated by his state of nervous debility. Might the Morfa affair not be traced to the same cause?-- I am, &c,.
W. THOMAS.
Bryn Awel, Aberdare, Dec. 11.

In the Evening Express, 13th December 1895.

Utter cynicism about mining superstitions

Cure for Superstition.

Miners are known to be a superstitious race: their superstition, however, is sometimes made a pretext for idleness. There is a recipe for curing this species of the disorder. In some extensive mines in Wales the men frequently saw the Devil; and when once he had been seen, the men would work no more that day. This evil became serious, for Old Beelzebub repeated his visits so often, as if he had a design to injure the proprietor. That Gentleman, at last, called his men together, and told them, that it was very certain that the Devil never appeared to any body who had not deserved to be so terrified; and that, as he is determined to keep no rogues about him, he resolved to discharge the first man that saw the Devil again. The remedy was as efficient as if he had turned a stream of holy water into the mines.

Public Ledger and Daily Advertiser, 10th April 1819.

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. 

From Bingley's Tour Round North Wales

Manners and Customs of the Welsh.
From Bingley's Tour Round North Wales.

[extract]

The Roman Cavern, in Llanymynech-hill, called Ogo, has long been noted, as the residence of a clan of the fairy tribe, of whom the villagers relate many surprising and mischievous tricks. They have listened at the mouth of the cave, and have sometimes even heard them in conversation, but always in such low whispers, that their words have been never distinguishable. The stream that runs through it is celebrated as being the place in which they have been heard to wash their clothes and do several other kinds of work.

These busy little folk seem to be somewhat allied to what are called Knockers, which by thWelsh are believed to be a species of aerial beings, that are heard under-ground, in or near mines, who by their noises direct the miners where to find a rich vein. The following extraordinary account of them, is from a letter of Mr. Lewis Morris to his brother, Mr. W. Morris, Comptroller of the Customs of Holyhead, dated October 14th, 1754. I will make no comment upon it, and only preface it by observing, that Mr. Morris was a very learned and sensible man, and a person whose judgment is esteemed of great weight by every one who has been either acquainted with him or his writings.

"People who know very little of the arts or sciences, or the powers of nature, (which, in other words, are the powers of the author of nature) will laugh at us Cardiganshire miners, who maintain the existence of Knockers in mines, a kind of good-natured impalpable people, not to be seen, but h eard, and who seem to us to work in the mines; that is to say, they are types, or forerunners of working in mines, as dreams are of some accidents which happen to us. The barometer falls before rain or storms. If we did not know the construction of it, we should call it a kind of dream, that foretells rain; but we know it is natural, and produced by natural means, comprehended by us. --- Now how are we sure, or any body sure, but that our dreams are produced by the same natural means? -- There is some faint resemblance of this in the sense of hearing: the bird is killed before we hear the report of the gun. However this is, I must speak well of these Knockers, for they have actually stood my very good friends, whether aerial beings, called spirits, or whether they are a people made of matter, not to be felt by our gross bodies, as air and fire, and the like.

"Before the discovery of Esgair y Mwyn mine, these little people, as we call them here, worked hard there day and night; and there are abundance of honest, sober people, who have heard them, and some persons who have no notion of them or of miners either; but after the discovery of the great ore, they were heard no more.

"When I began to work at Llwyn Llwd, they worked so [?] there for a considerable time, that they even frightened some young workmen out of the work. This was when we were driving levels, and before we got any ore; but when we came to the ore, they then gave over, and I heard no more talk of them.

"Our old miners are no more concerned at hearing them blasting, boring holes, landing deads [sic], &c. than if they were some of their own people; and a single miner wiill stay in the work, in the dead of night, without any man near him, and never think of any fear or harm they will do him; for they have a notion that the Knockers are of their own tribe and profession, and are a harmless people who mean well. Three or four miners together shall hear them sometimes, but if the miners stop to take notice of them, the Knockers will also stop; but let the miners go on at their own work, suppose it is boring, the Knockers will go on as brisk as can be, in landing, blasting, or breaking down the loose; and they were always heard, a little from them, before they came to the ore.

"These are odd assertions, but they are certainly facts, though we cannot, and do not pretend to account for them. We have now very good ore at Llwyn Llwd, where the Knockers were heard to work, but have now yielded up the place, and are no more heard. Let who will laugh, we have the greatest reason to rejoice and thank the Knockers, or rather god, who send us these notices."

An intelligent friend of mine informs me that those noises the Knockers, as they are called, have very lately been heard in the parish of Llanfighangel Ysceifrog, in Anglesea, where they continued at different intervals for some weeks. In accounting for these noises it has been observed, that they probably may have proceeded either from the echo of the miners at work, or from the dropping of the water; but these seem by no means sufficient, if Mr. Morris's assertion be true, that while the miners are going on with one kind of work, they are going on with another, while for instance, as he says, the miners are boring, they are blasting, the former certainly cannot be true, and the blasting entirely puts the latter conjecture out of the question, for droppings of water could never produce any effect of that kind. As I am only acquainted with the subject from report, I am under the necessity of leaving the elucidation of these extraordinary facts to some who have better opportunities of enquiring into them. I have only to express a hope that the subject will not be neglected, and that those who reside in the neighbourhood where they are heard, will inquire into them carefully, and, if possible, give to the world a more accurate account of them than the present.

Chester Chronicle, 23rd January 1801.

Mining superstitions in the making

Among the Welsh Miners.
About Superstitious Beliefs.
(By a Cardiff Welshman.)

During my stay at Treglo a strange and somewhat startling story was going the round of the town. Some two miles from the place is a small mining hamlet, which we shall name Cwmdu, and it was here the strange story originated. From the common talk of the people I gathered that there had been living in the hamlet for a short period an old woman who appeared to be living a solitary life. At least no one seemed inclined to acknowledge any  knowledge of her past life, nor her mode of living, further than to state that she earned her living by hawking sundry small goods for domestic use.

The story circulated about the woman was to the effect that she had foretold a couple of fatal accidents which had occurred in the local colliery, and that she had followed up her "bit of prophecy" by predicting two colliery explosions at given dates, one at the Cwmdu mine and the other in one of the collieries of Treglo.

The "Prophecy" was the staple topic of discussion right throughout the district, and the effect on the minds of the people amounted almost to a panic. Every man and woman who came to Tom's shop knew the story, discussed nothing else. What seemed to add to the weirdness of the affair was the rumour circulated that the "strange woman" had suddenly disappeared from the district, no one knew where or when. So real and intense was the popular belief in the woman's prediction that I found it extremely difficult to laugh the matter off my mind, so it was not without peculiar interest that I waited the approach of the day which was to put a portion of the prediction to the test. The colliery were working, but I was informed that there was a good number of absentees. Many had made it convenient to be too indisposed for work, others had managed to arrive at the lamp-room too late to be allowed down. Wives had hid away their husbands' clothes, and daughters had implored upon their brothers to "Joke bad, for fear there is something in it."

This attitude was aptly illustrated by an intelligent old miner, whose acquaintance I had made.
"It's as well, perhaps, to be on the safe side. One never knows," he said; "strange things do happen sometimes. It's better to lose a turn than lose one's life after all, baint it, sir?"
I expressed my entire accord with his sentiments.
"Not that I believe in the old woman's story," he continued. "To tell you the truth, I believe the poor woman has been so frightened herslef by the effect on the popular mind of her attempt at prophyesying that she has cleared. Some say, though, that is only a temporary absence, necessitated by the circumstances, to arrange the details of the affair with the devil or some such power of evil. But to speak common sense, who knows how much this story has grown in the telling? I'll tell you a little experience of my own when I was much younger than I am.

"I was working in a small level in this district before the pit here was sunk, and before we had such a lot of houses. The way to work was very lonely indeed. We had to pass an old stone quarry which was known far and near as being the favourite resort of a spirit popularly known as The White Lady. I was working night at the time I am speaking of. My mother was dead, and the home was looked after for my father by a young girl, married and living close by me now, who had her fair share of belief in the existence of the White Lady. My father, I ought to say, worked the day shifts, and, as I have said, I was working night with another collier as a 'boy'.

Well, Mary forgot to call me in time, and as a result it was quite dark when I was about to start to work. Poor Mary was almost hysterical. She knew my father would be annoyed if I did not go to work, and she felt, on the other hand, that she was driving me into some unknown land, where all trace of my existence would be for ever lost. It was blowing a little, and I could not carry a naked light, such as we worked with in the level, so Mary placed a candle in a tin lantern, and thus equipped I started on my journey. To admit the honest truth, I was very nervous when approaching the famous spot, although I tried to think as hard as I could of the impossibility of such strange things as spirtis retorning.

When opposite the quarry a novel idea took possession of me. I swung the lantern to and fro and challenged the White Lady to make her appearance to an unbeliever. This, perhaps, in the agony of suspense, and with a view of giving some effect to my boyish courage. I don't know what was the cause, but the result was that I found myself in darkness, running over a rough and hilly road with a feeling of some terrible phantom following at my heels. I reached the level, and getting to the spot I worked in, fell breathless into the arms of my 'boss'. There was little done for awhile, the workers were so busy expressing their sympathy with me in being sent to work in the dark by that 'hard-hearted Mary.' However this passed off, when I assured them, in my calmermoments, that it was only a bit of fright at being left in the dark, as the result of my indiscretion in swinging the lantern.

But the best part remains, and this is what I want to tell you, sir. I got home all right in the morning and Mary welcomed me, as if I had returned from the dead. With a view of impressing her with the desirability of calling me in due time in future, I told her if she knew ho I had been frightened at the old quarry, she would never forgive herself, and so forth. I went to bed, and, as was my habit, got up about midday for dinner, when I was surprised to find quite a houseful of womenfolk chatting - a regular Babel of tongues - with Mary. No sooner did I make an appearance than they swarmed around me like so many bees, pestering me for fully an hour with all sorts of strange questions. You know how the lawyers in the police courts cross-examine an unfavourable witness. Well that's how they went for me.

At last I commenced to doubt my own story. It had assumed such a weird character. Well the result of this was that a rumour went throught the village like wildfire that I had been nearly crushed to death by a 'spirit funeral' on my way to work, the story invariably ending with the sympathetic comment, 'What a wonder the young lad wasn't carried to the parish churchyard, and never heard of any more.' About a month or so after a real funeral - not the first - passed the quarry on its way to the churchyard, and by some method peculiar to the people it was demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was the identical one I had seen in its spirit form!

That's how the stories grow, you see," continued my collier friend; "and it is quite possible that this yarn of the prophecy of the old woman is simply the outgrowth of a silly remark which she may have made to some superstious person. A dream as likely as anything, sir, for we are great believers in dreams as warning."

The scare created by the predictions brought forth a good crop of ghost stories of various forms and degrees of credulity, some of which were extremely interesting as showing the lengths to which the people can go at times. Despite the characteristic religious turn of the Welsh mind, there is manifested periodically a peculiar susceptibility to the most extravagant forms of superstitious belief. The science in the religion of Spiritualism as taught in scores of homes, and in public at Cardiff, is practically unknown in the Hills. Although an open belief in Spiritualism as a scientific truth, or form of religion, would result in social ostracism, there is a very widespread belief in the supernatural. During my stay I fraternised with people to whom the gymnastic feats of circus performers are nothing more nor less than the "work of the devil;" but who would assert as probable the tallest ghost story imaginable.

South Wales Echo, 13th February 1896.

Compensation vs superstition

A Ghost in the Mine.
Remarkable Claim for Compensation.

One of the most remarkable claims under the Workmen's Compensation Act has been heard at the Tredegar County Court, the Judge reserving his decision.

Frederick George Shellard, a lad aged fourteen years, was in the employ of the Powells Tillery Steam Coal Collieries Company in May last. He was a pit boy, earning 10s. a week as an assistant to his father, a collier. On one occasion the father sent him to get what is known as a "stick."

Amid the gloom and loneliness of the colliery the lad says that he suddenly felt something brush past him and he was confronted by two glaring eyes. This greatly terrified the lad, for most miners are exceedingly superstitious. He cried out to his father to come and help him, and was so overcome by what he regarded as an apparition that he had to be taken home.

The Judge suggested that the eyes were those of a cat, but the solicitor for the lad did not readily assent to this explanation.

Three days afterwards the father took the boy again to the colliery, with a view to convincing him that there was nothing to alarm him. So great was the shock, however, that the boy had not been able to work underground since. The medical evidence showed that the lad now suffered from St. Vitus's dance, brought about by fright.

Compensation was claimed at the rate of 5s. 3d. a week, but the company repudiated liability

Leeds Mercury, 22nd January 1904.

Superstitions at the Universal Colliery, Senghenydd

The Welsh colliery disaster, for the firends of the victims of which the whole working class population of this country have felt the deepest sympathy, has been the means of reviving some very curious superstitions amongst the mining population, which were once general. It will be well known that the doings of certain birds under certain conditions have been held to be unfailing signs of calamity. Hence it used to be held that a robin on the doorstep was a certain sign of death in the house. So also our forefathers used to say that the settling of rooks in the street was a sure sign of a death amongst the people living in it. Amongst miners superstitions of this character are even now much regarded. So it happens that the folk in the neighbourhood of the Senghenydd disaster believe that Providence had given the poor victims of the explosion a prophetic warning by means of birds of the frightful disaster which overtook them. For several days a dove is said to have been seen hovering over the frame of the pit, and refused to go away from the mouth of the pit at night. Again, it is stated that a flock of crows flew about the pit a few days before the disaster, and that on the night before the explosion actually took place they were seen to settle in the streets of a neighbouring village, beat their wings in flight against the windows, and otherwise signal by unusual conduct in the fraternity of rooks the impending calamity. It will be observed that this latter superstition is similar to that believed in by our own Warwickshire grandparents with regard to rooks. [...]

Warwick and Warwickshire Advertiser. 29th June, 1901.

Nantymoel pigeon at the Wyndham pit.

Miners' Superstitions.

Welsh colliers still retain a firm belief in omens. It will be remembered that after the Llanbradach explosion one of the rescue parties found a robin in the mine, and the workers in the pit felt convinced there had been a "Jonah on board." A strange incident has occurred this week at Nantymoel. A resident of that little mid-Glamorgan mining town was the possessor of a valuable pigeon, which he "freed" for the first time on Sunday. It did not return. On Monday morning, when the colliers employed at the Wyndham mine approached the shaft, they saw the bird perched upon the framework. A considerable section declined to descend the pit, until the bird was removed, convinced that the pigeon was a bird of ill-omen.

Sheffield Evening Telegraph, 4th October 1901.

Knockers and other Little People: Cornish Miners' Superstitions

By John Lavington.
Special to "The Western Morning News and Mercury."

Among Cornish mining superstitions most prominent place must be given to the belief in the tribes of small people, usually known as "knockers," who are supposed to live and work in the mines. "Knockers" are akin to brownies and pixies, and are rumoured to be "little, withered, dried-up creatures," about the size of children a year old, having heads disproportionately big for their bodies, ungainly limbs, and small, squeaky voices.

In North Britain and Ireland they are supposed to be benevolent demons, too good for hell but not good enough for heaven. By some in the Western peninsula they are supposed to be the spirits of an ancient people who inhabited Cornwall. Formerly they were much larger, but since the time of Christ they have become smaller and feebler, and it is supposed that they will ultimately become extinct - which in one sense, no doubt, is true.

By others they are supposed to be the spirits of the Jews who crucified the Christ, and who were condemned to live and work in the deep levels of the mine. On certain festivals, such as Easter, All Saints' Day, the Jewish Sabbath, and Christmas Day, they were allowed to rest, but on Christmas Day they were compelled to sing carols. Stories are told of these who have heard the sweet, unearthly music of the knockers as they have sung their carols in the depths of the mine.

Generally the knockers were supposed to befriend the miners by assisting in their labours and signifying the presence of rich lodes - for the knockers were never heard except where there was an abundance of rich mineral - but if treated disrespectfully they could be very vindictive and cause great ill-luck. Consequently they were regarded with a certain amount of reverence by the miners, who sought to propitiate them by leaving a part of their dinner on the ground for their enjoyment. Similarly, fishermen left a fish upon the sands for the pixies, and harvesters scattered bread from their lunch and spilled a few drops of ale upon the ground for them.

Many old Cornish miners can tell of the prognostication of the knockers, whose noises came through the dark workings of the mine, sometimes like the beating of the borers or the roiling of barrows, and sometimes like the falling of rock, and even the dull metallic clink of ripe ore.

In connection with the Wheal Rodney Mine, near Marazion, an old miner recently told me the following story:--
"A miner named P-- and his son were at work in one of the levels which for some days had proved very unremunerative, but they continued to dig in the hope that they would again find the lode. They were busily working one day, when they heard someone throw down a 'bag of drills' in a working near by which had long been considered 'dead.' The old man expressed surprise that anyone should take the sett, and their curiosity was further aroused by the sound of vigorous working there.
"At last the old man's curiosity got the better of him, and he told his son to throw down his tool 'and we'll gone and see what to'ther fellow's about.' When they reached the old working they found neither miner nor signs of work, and the old sett appeared as for months past. 'Them must have bin the knockers,' said the old man. 'We'll knack ovver there and see if we can do better here.' After some ridicule the captain gave them permission to work the sett, when they quickly discovered that the 'knockers' had led them aright and an exceptionally rich lode was found."

Another story tells of a miner who was going to his work along one of the levels, when he was suddenly surprised by the sound as of someone "shooting ripe ore from a sack" just by his side. He looked about, but plainly no one could be near, as the level was narrow and straight and could be clearly scanned by the light of his lamp. As he turned to continue his journey he again heard the sound and noted its direction. It seemed to proceed from a large shaley piece of rock, which he pulled down with his fingers. Imagine his surprise when there "rolled at his feet a pile of ripe, red copper, like cinders."

An amazing story was published in "The Western Morning News" some years ago under the title of the "Wendron Treasure Hunt." An old lady living at Wendron was alledged to have been visited on several occasions by the "little people." When she eventually summoned courage enough to inquire why they troubled her, she was told to break down the plaster at one part of the house and a secret passage would be discovered, and if she dug deep enough much treasure would be found.
An attempt was made to recover the treasure, but while nothing was found that could possibly be described as treasure, the amazing thing is that at the place indicated by the little people a secret passage leading to the earth was actually found hidden by the lath and plaster. Several of the men who pursued the search are still living, and one of them from whom I recently had the story, still firmly believes that the treasure would have been found if only the landlord had granted the facilities required to prosecute the search!

The knockers are not confined to the Cornish mines, but are said to inhabit the coal mines of Wales. The coal mines of the north are said to be frequented by elves, - some of which are helpful tothe miners, but others are mischievous sprites.

The "duergars" of Scandinavia and the "kobolds" of the German mines are akin to the knockers, but unlike the knockers of the Cornish mines, which were usually friendly, the kobolds and duergars were frequently antagonistic to the miner, delighting to frustrate his work at every opportunity. In the mines in Africa and America, the earth is said to "talk," and there is probably some affinity between such "earth talks" and the "knockings" of the Cornish mines.

Ghosts were not unknown to haunt the mines, as is evidenced by the name of one mine - Wheel Sperris, the haunted mine - near St. Ives. Robert Hunt in his "Popular Romances of the West of England," published a story of a ghost which was supposed to frequent Polbrean Mine. A woman named Dorcas committed suicide by throwing herself down the mine, and for some time after her spirit haunted the place. She seems to have been of a malevolent turn of mind and delighted to torment the miners by calling their names and hindering them in their work. This occurred so frequently, that the miner who was unfortunate in his work was proverbially spoken of as "chasing Dorcas." On one occasion, however, Dorcas is said to have redeemed her character. Two miners were boring in an end, when the name of one of them was clearly heard between the blows. Hoever, when they listened, they could hear nothing. On resuming the boring the name was heard again, and when they took no notice it was again pronounced, but so vehemently that the man threw down his hammer and went to see who called him. Immediately he did so a huge granite boulder fell upon the spot where he had been standing, completely covering his companion, who, however, was taken out alive.

No doubt there are physical explanations for most of the basal causes of these superstitions. The miner laboured in an environment which lent itself to tales of the weird and uncanny, and in an atmosphere decidedly sepulchral and ghostly. If to-day we still feel unhappy at the sight of a single magpie or a broken mirror, and uncomfortable in the company of twelve other persons, let us be tolerant of those superstitions which enthralled the untutored minds of our fathers, and which here and there still exert their paralysing grip of fear upon the credulous and ignorant.

Western Morning News, 20th March 1922.

Sarky hyperbole vs miners' superstition in the 1920s.

Miners' Superstitions.

Yesterday saw the finishing touches to the settlement of the coal dispute -  a settlement which is to be operative, including the "carry over" period of the subsidy, for eighteen months! The voting in districts has resulted in 832,840 votes for the signing of the agreement and immediate resumption of work, and 105,820 against. This is decisive enough and serves to show that the miners are abundantly consoled by the readjustment of wages and the profit-sharing clause for the defeat of the "national pool."

Now that the miners are going back to work, it is earnestly to be hoped that they will work. "The will to work," as the "Daily Telegraph" sagely remarks, is the greatest need of the day. Ca-canny on the one hand, and the frivolous love of play on the other, are menacing the whole future of the country. There is no class more addicted to making a pretence of work than the miners, whose inflated wages in the recent past have enabled them, or a considerable section of them, to spend as much time in sport and joy rides as in getting coal. This spirit of thoughtless and idle levity will have to be checked very considerably if coal is to be procured at a price that will enable us to recover our manufacturing interest, now shaken and weakened in all the markets of the world.

Though only very slightly connected with the economic aspect of the industry, an article in "The Occult Review" is worthy of some attention before these men pass out of the newspaper lime-light. It seems that, a generation ago, miners as a class were very superstitious, and queer notions of "forebodings" of evil still in some degree persist. Mechanical improvements, as well as education, have had a good deal to do in killing such notions.

Life in a coal pit today is much less eerie than was the case a quarter of a century ago, much less uncomfortable, and decidedly less dangerous. It is, of course, impossible to eliminate danger altogether, and the very efficiency of the management may in some circumstances add to the risks. Human nature is apt to be careless in the presence of known peril, and the knowledge that there exist precautions for minimising risks may occasionally breed that contempt which is the child of familiarity. Speaking generally, however, there is to-day a stronger sense of safety, and less superstition among miners than there used to be. As might be supposed, most of the old superstitions were on the gloomy or fearful side. They took the form of a strong objection to working in the mines on certain days of the year - a feeling probably religious in origin and inherited from Roman Catholic times. A notably "unlucky" day for working is Ascension Day: and a certain mine in South Wales has a tradition of accidents that invariably occurred in the past to those who persisted in working on that festival. We can only hope that the spell has been broken by the long strike, and that the miners will not allow either frivolity or superstition to impede their highly necessary labour.

 Gloucestershire Echo, 2nd July 1921.

Occult review indeed. Menacing the whole future of the country indeed. Pff.

Tinners' Omens

A Cornishman who works in his native tin or copper mines must never be addressed as a miner, or trouble will promptly ensure. This is because such a designation might cause him to be confounded with other underground workers, colliers in particular, and the clannish Cornishman esteems himself, with or without reason, to be of an altogether higher social standing than "darty coalers". But then the true-bred man from west of the Tamar has no doubt that his race is vastly superior to any outlandish foreigners from up the country, no matter what their rank or dignity may be.

Although the tinner has not the explosive firedamp to dread, yet the deep Cornish mines have their own dangers, no less swift and sudden. Many run out far under the sea, so that the crash of breaking waves thunders incessantly overhead. In very ancient times, the Phoenicians and they that dwelt in Tyre traded with the Celtic folk of Cornwall for tin and copper, then lying near the surface; there were shipping-places on islands round the coast where the metal was brought by the country folk, who jealously guarded the sources of their wealth. St Michael's Mount, the Island of St. Ives, the Chapel Rock at Perranporth, and even lordly Tintagel itself, were among the most notable of these stations.

Marazion, or Market Jew, was so called by the Jewish slaves, who were sent by the Carthaginians and Romans to work in the mines, the former name signifying "the bitterness of Zion." Tradition tells that the souls of these unlucky ones, because of their unbelief and also of their nefarious practices as tinners, are still condemned to toil underground, as they did in life, until the end of all things. They are known as the Knockers, or Buccas, and the belated or solitary tinner often hears the tap of their ghostly pickaxes; but this is not altogether an alarming sound, for wherever the Knockers work, the ore is certain to be plentiful and of excellent quality. Sometimes they will do a kindness to a mortal who has worked side by side with them for years, not doing anything to offend their sensitive feelings, but they are oftener malicious, and their vengeance is swift.

For this reason tinners object to the sign of the Cross being made underground, as the holy symbol irritates the Knockers. A stranger, going through the levels, made a cross on the wall by an adit, or opening, that he might know his way, for he had to return alone. He was directly implored by the men, his guides, to alter the mark into another form, for a cross would certainly bring ill-luck to the mine. Notwithstanding this, the Piskies, another tribe of Cornish spirits, who have hopes of ultimate salvation, meet at Christmas Eve at the bottom of the deepest mines, when exquisite music may be heard, with choirs of unearthly voices singing, "Nowell, Nowell." The Knockers sometimes betray the presence of an unsuspected lode of ore, from strange noises being heard underground, as of miners at work, in places where there is no mortal shaft. Houses built over such spots are subject to uncanny hauntings.

In a life of constant, unforeseen peril, it is natural that supernatural warnings should be eagerly watched for. To meet a red-haired woman or to see a hare run across the path when going to work is an evil omen, and many a man will forfeit a day's pay rather than go underground after such a token. At Wheal Vor a fatal accident was always presaged by the appearance of a white hare or rabbit in one of the engine-houses. This mysterious animal has often been chased in the enclosed space by the men - no dog dares join the hunt - but always escapes. On one occasion it dodged into an unused pipe lying on the ground, and stopped at the farther end, exactly as a living rabbit might have done. Secure of their prey, the pursuers rushed to the spot, only to find the pipe empty, and all trace of their quarry vanished.

The Seven Whistlers, why seven no man can tell, for they are invisible, also warn the tinners against decending in the face of impending danger, by strange, musical whistlings heard in the air at the shaft's mouth.

At Wheal Vor, there was once an accident in one of the engine-houses, not that where the white rabbit is seen, which resulted in the death of a man and boy, their remains being burned in the furnace. From that moment troops of little black dogs haunted the spot, seeming to issue from the furnace when all the doors were shut. No bribes nor threats would induce the men to be left alone in such company, and it was even difficult to get hands to work this machine.

At another mine there was, or is, an apparition known by the gruesome name of the "Dead Hand." This is seen in a deserted shaft, long unused, and is always the forerunner of misfortune. In the evening dusk a faint glow shines from the shaft, and those bold enough to walk up to its edge may see a man's hand moving up or down the empty hole, as though someone were climbing where no ladder has stood for many a day. This had grasps a miner's candle, fixed in a ball of clay in the usual manner, the spectral gleam falls upon the hand, though no other part of the body is visible. The light has the irregular motion of a candle hld by a man who grasps stave after stave of a ladder while his finger and thumb clasp the clay socket. Tradition tells how an unlucky tinner, who did not bear the best of characters among his fellows, while ascending alone, was seized with giddiness, tripped, and fell. Though he was buried with Christian rites, yet the appearance was first seen soon after his death; and his late comrades, terrified, took the trouble to sink a new shaft rather than pass the ghostly hand upon the narrow ladders.

Saint Perran is the patron saint of tinners and is said to have invented their banner, a white cross on a black ground, symbolising the black tin ore and the white metal. Some think it was he who first taught the Cornish folk to "stream" for tin. But he lived in the fourth century after Christ, so it is difficult to reconcile this with the other legend of the Tyrians who traded in Cornwall in the days of King Solomon. Be this as it may, Saint Perran was a man of great local importance in his day, for many villages are called by his name, such as Perranzabuloe, Perranawhorthal, Perranuthnoe, and Perranporth. There is a story that he sailed the seas from Ireland sitting miraculously upon a floating mill-stone, so perhaps his history is not to be entirely accepted without question.

However, one evening when the holy man was cooking his supper, he took a large, heavy black stone for one side of his fireplace. This primitive stove burned with intense heat, and suddenly a stream of brilliant white metal flowed from the block of ore. The Saint rejoiced; and called the Cornishmen together that they might celebrate his discovery with feasting. This they did with much zeal, consuming their national drinks of mead and metheglin in such quantities that "Drunk as a Perraner," passed into a proverb that remains to the present time. This event took place on the second Thursday before Christmas, since called Pierous Day, and still kept as the tinners' holiday.

The Globe, 17th September 1902.

Miners' Superstitions (Northern Ireland)

By R. Walker.

Among some of the most curious superstitions still existing to-day are those to be found in mining districts. In some districts, if a man stumbles on leaving the cage at the bottom of the shaft, it is considered a very bad omen, and he, and perhaps his mates, will at once return to the bank. When a new hand is taken on at a pit, he should never go down with the first shift. If he does he is asked to go up again and come down with the second or, more probably, is sent home till the next day.

In some pits it is the unwritten rule that the lamp must not be carried with the left hand - yet in others the left hand is preferred. It is considered unlucky to lose the card of rules issued to each man, and these pieces of pasteboard are often framed and hung in the cottages to ensure that they are safe.

A white cat walking along a street in a mining village is a sure forerunner of evil - so they believe - and it stands little chance of escaping should some of the mining lads get hold of it.

When a new seam or cutting is started, the first man who strikes his pick into the "face" of the coal is careful to tear a small piece of cloth from his clothing and leave it on the spot. A strange custom, this; one cannot help wondering how it first came about.

Shoud miners hear the crowing of a cock at a distance they regard it as a sure sign that some accident will happen in the workings. Strange noises and voices in the mine are often spoken of. The sound of singing is of good augury, but that of moaning is regarded as sinister. Should miners meet a woman with a squint when on their way to work, they regard it as a sign that some evil is on the way.

In many pits strangers visiting the workings are always accompanied by two of the miners in addition to an official. If this rule is broken, it is said, ill luck is sure to follow. One must never refer to the dangerous character of a miner's work when actually in the workings. Above the ground, however, one can speak of it quite freely without their regarding it as unlucky.

Belfast News-Letter, 4th September 1935.