Birmingham Daily Post, Monday 13th February 1939
"Red Deeps": A quarry described by George Eliot
Some years ago, an old estate workman at Arbury used to recall seeing, when a youth, a lady in a black silk dress sitting on a low stone wall at Griff Hollows, notebook in hand, sketching or writing. She was George Eliot, visiting a favourite haunt, Griff Hollows or Griff Bottoms, which she depicted in "The Mill on the Floss" as "Red Deeps".
[...]
The canal at "Red Deeps" has an association with Sir Roger Newdigate, the famous antiquary, and fifth baronet, who was depicted by George Eliot - she was born on his estate - as "Sir Christopher Cheverel." Some years before his death Sir Roger cut a canal through his ground to join the Coventry canal, and it was said that he could enter a boat on his estate and go to Venice by water without putting foot on dry land.
Following the canal-side one can understand how Maggie Tulliver held "Red Deeps" in awe, and needed all her confidence in her brother Tom's bravery to reconcile her to an excursion thither, "visions of robbers and fierce animals haunting every hollow." The legends of "visions" at Griff Hollows persist to this day, and a superstition among Warwickshire miners who have to pass through the valley on their way to work is that of the "seven whistlers." The whistlers are seven birds, which are said to fly together at night making a whistling noise and presaging disaster. Many miners, if they think they hear the birds, return home, instead of going on the night shift.
[...]
Saturday, 11 January 2020
Friday, 10 January 2020
Wigan, 1906
Wigan Observer and District Advertiser, Friday 20th April 1906.
Under the Clock.
The Superstitions of the Miner.
There is perhaps no other worker, not even the sailor, who is more superstitious than the miner, and only the people living in a mining district such as Wigan know how superstitious the bravest of men may sometimes be. The industries of peace have their heroes as well as the fields of battle, and nowhere is heroism more manifest than in mining districts where some great catastrophe has overtaken the workers below ground. All the keen, cool daring of which flesh and blood is capable then manifests itself in the pitman, who, having escaped the fire himself, risks his life to save his brother worker. And yet, brave as the pitman may be, he is most superstitious. For instance, if the miner in the country districts round about Wigan sees a woman out-of-doors at five o'clock in the morning he is seized with an impulse to turn back and go home. A woman seen out of doors as a miner goes to his work is supposed to bode ill, and there is many a miner who even to-day would aver that he has more than once saved himself from harm by observing the custom which, in towns, is fast dying out. The English miner, too, believes in the prophecy of dreams, and now and then even the matter of fact evidence at an inquest would seem to support the validity of a superstition that has been set aside.
The disastrous explosion at Courrieres [?s] the fact that legends of the mine exists in France as well as in England. Even at Courrieres, as a writer in a contemporary points out, they have their "Black Miner," a spectral creature with dark skin and flashing eyes who works in the remote parts of the mines, and the men can hear the tick-tack of his pick against the seams. Sometimes they encounter the "Black Miner," who takes no notice of them, but continues his toil for a minute or two before their frightened eyes, and then disappears. When he has been seen or heard the colliers of the Pas du Nord become nervous, and may stop work for a day or two. It is now said that the "Black Miner" has often been encountered of late. But the men of the Pas du Nord are not easily dismayed. The miners go to their work singing -
"Quand now somm's de cinq cents pieds sous terre,
Nous ne craignons ni grele ni tonnerre."
In the valley of the Loire there are certain parts of the mine where no miner dares to trespass. It is well understood among the men that the dwellers in these dark places are to be left severely alone. Yet they are kindly sprites, and sometimes take the shape of dwarf miners. When they are seen with their tiny pickaxes across their shoulders danger is at hand. The "Petits Mineurs" are paid their wages regularly in the shape of a small money offering that is placed just on the border line of their own dark territory. The money disappears almost immediately, and the men are convinced that it has been duly collected by "Le P'tit." In the Central Provinces the spirits never appear when the men are at work. But afterwards gangs of ghostly miners take possession, and those above can hear the sharp sound of the pick, the movements of the waggons, and words of command.
The miners in Zola's "Germinal" fear the "Black Man" who lurks in the black recesses of the galleries, as a writer in T.P.'s Weekly points out. The fire-damp was once supposed to be the vengeance of some Pluto-like lord of the underworld, jealously guarding his black diamonds. Even now, some of these northern miners will talk of the "bianque besse," the white bat which is seen flitting, banshee-like, among the workers before the dreaded explosion takes place, or of the white snow-like flakes which are harbingers of the same terrible danger.
In Central France the "little miner" is a kobold who plays Puck-like tricks on the men. Does a lamp go out, a tool break, a piece of timbering fall on a miner - he apostrophises the mischievous elf whom he suspects to be playing these practical jokes. The Vieux Garcon (old bachelor) is another legend. When the new shift is coming down in the cage, and all should be silence, the men hear the pick resound, the "bennes" rolling along the rails, and savage cries of "Ratata!" Then comes a crash, as if all had been destroyed. But when the gallery is reached, all is in order - it is but the "Vieux Garcon."
The same sprite is supposed to haunt the Breton mines, but here he plays a more useful role. He watches over the miners, and by ghostly blows of the hammer (heard, but never seen), he indicates when timbers are rotting and danger lurks. Let us hope this belief does not tend to that neglect which, in a mine, is apt to be so tragic in its results!
Under the Clock.
The Superstitions of the Miner.
There is perhaps no other worker, not even the sailor, who is more superstitious than the miner, and only the people living in a mining district such as Wigan know how superstitious the bravest of men may sometimes be. The industries of peace have their heroes as well as the fields of battle, and nowhere is heroism more manifest than in mining districts where some great catastrophe has overtaken the workers below ground. All the keen, cool daring of which flesh and blood is capable then manifests itself in the pitman, who, having escaped the fire himself, risks his life to save his brother worker. And yet, brave as the pitman may be, he is most superstitious. For instance, if the miner in the country districts round about Wigan sees a woman out-of-doors at five o'clock in the morning he is seized with an impulse to turn back and go home. A woman seen out of doors as a miner goes to his work is supposed to bode ill, and there is many a miner who even to-day would aver that he has more than once saved himself from harm by observing the custom which, in towns, is fast dying out. The English miner, too, believes in the prophecy of dreams, and now and then even the matter of fact evidence at an inquest would seem to support the validity of a superstition that has been set aside.
The disastrous explosion at Courrieres [?s] the fact that legends of the mine exists in France as well as in England. Even at Courrieres, as a writer in a contemporary points out, they have their "Black Miner," a spectral creature with dark skin and flashing eyes who works in the remote parts of the mines, and the men can hear the tick-tack of his pick against the seams. Sometimes they encounter the "Black Miner," who takes no notice of them, but continues his toil for a minute or two before their frightened eyes, and then disappears. When he has been seen or heard the colliers of the Pas du Nord become nervous, and may stop work for a day or two. It is now said that the "Black Miner" has often been encountered of late. But the men of the Pas du Nord are not easily dismayed. The miners go to their work singing -
"Quand now somm's de cinq cents pieds sous terre,
Nous ne craignons ni grele ni tonnerre."
In the valley of the Loire there are certain parts of the mine where no miner dares to trespass. It is well understood among the men that the dwellers in these dark places are to be left severely alone. Yet they are kindly sprites, and sometimes take the shape of dwarf miners. When they are seen with their tiny pickaxes across their shoulders danger is at hand. The "Petits Mineurs" are paid their wages regularly in the shape of a small money offering that is placed just on the border line of their own dark territory. The money disappears almost immediately, and the men are convinced that it has been duly collected by "Le P'tit." In the Central Provinces the spirits never appear when the men are at work. But afterwards gangs of ghostly miners take possession, and those above can hear the sharp sound of the pick, the movements of the waggons, and words of command.
The miners in Zola's "Germinal" fear the "Black Man" who lurks in the black recesses of the galleries, as a writer in T.P.'s Weekly points out. The fire-damp was once supposed to be the vengeance of some Pluto-like lord of the underworld, jealously guarding his black diamonds. Even now, some of these northern miners will talk of the "bianque besse," the white bat which is seen flitting, banshee-like, among the workers before the dreaded explosion takes place, or of the white snow-like flakes which are harbingers of the same terrible danger.
In Central France the "little miner" is a kobold who plays Puck-like tricks on the men. Does a lamp go out, a tool break, a piece of timbering fall on a miner - he apostrophises the mischievous elf whom he suspects to be playing these practical jokes. The Vieux Garcon (old bachelor) is another legend. When the new shift is coming down in the cage, and all should be silence, the men hear the pick resound, the "bennes" rolling along the rails, and savage cries of "Ratata!" Then comes a crash, as if all had been destroyed. But when the gallery is reached, all is in order - it is but the "Vieux Garcon."
The same sprite is supposed to haunt the Breton mines, but here he plays a more useful role. He watches over the miners, and by ghostly blows of the hammer (heard, but never seen), he indicates when timbers are rotting and danger lurks. Let us hope this belief does not tend to that neglect which, in a mine, is apt to be so tragic in its results!
Bargoed, 1907
Leicester Daily Post, Monday 23rd December 1907.
Welsh Miners' Superstition.
A remarkable case of Welsh superstition is reported from Bargoed, Rhymney Valley. Prior to the explosion at the Dinas Main Colliery, Gilfachgoch, a rumour was circulated that an explosion would take place at the Bargoed Collieries of the Powell Duffryn Company, at which nearly 2,000 men are employed. There was no justification for the report, but during the week hundreds of men have absented themselves from work.
Welsh Miners' Superstition.
A remarkable case of Welsh superstition is reported from Bargoed, Rhymney Valley. Prior to the explosion at the Dinas Main Colliery, Gilfachgoch, a rumour was circulated that an explosion would take place at the Bargoed Collieries of the Powell Duffryn Company, at which nearly 2,000 men are employed. There was no justification for the report, but during the week hundreds of men have absented themselves from work.
Cornish miners in South Africa, 1911
The Cornish Telegraph, Thursday 20th July 1911.
Cornish miners and superstition.
There is something about mines that appeals to the superstitious of mankind; especially is this so on the Rand, where one finds miners drawn from all parts of the world. One of the most marked effects noticed in men who have spent most of their life in mining is a sense of danger that suddenly comes over them. "Some would call this faculty the sixth sense," writes a prominent mining expert at Cape Town. "If you asked a miner how he knows there is something wrong he will reply that he feels it. I had a remarkable illustration of this a few years ago. I was walking along a main drift with a mine captain, a man who had been working in mines for over 40 years, having started as a lad in the mines of Cornwall. Suddenly he stopped and exclaimed that something was wrong.
"For the life of me I could not see a thing amiss. The timbers seemed solid and the drive pillars looked secure. But the captain was not satisfied, and insisted on climbing into the stope to investigate. There he found a large crack, running for hundreds of feet, indicating a movement of the strata of serious proportions. Had this discovery not been made in time there would have been a serious accident in the mine, with a probable loss of life. I dare say the years of experience in the mine had developed a power in him which the men called 'superstition,' but which was really the faculty of accurate observation, which to him seemed unconscious."
Cornish miners and superstition.
There is something about mines that appeals to the superstitious of mankind; especially is this so on the Rand, where one finds miners drawn from all parts of the world. One of the most marked effects noticed in men who have spent most of their life in mining is a sense of danger that suddenly comes over them. "Some would call this faculty the sixth sense," writes a prominent mining expert at Cape Town. "If you asked a miner how he knows there is something wrong he will reply that he feels it. I had a remarkable illustration of this a few years ago. I was walking along a main drift with a mine captain, a man who had been working in mines for over 40 years, having started as a lad in the mines of Cornwall. Suddenly he stopped and exclaimed that something was wrong.
"For the life of me I could not see a thing amiss. The timbers seemed solid and the drive pillars looked secure. But the captain was not satisfied, and insisted on climbing into the stope to investigate. There he found a large crack, running for hundreds of feet, indicating a movement of the strata of serious proportions. Had this discovery not been made in time there would have been a serious accident in the mine, with a probable loss of life. I dare say the years of experience in the mine had developed a power in him which the men called 'superstition,' but which was really the faculty of accurate observation, which to him seemed unconscious."
Yorkshire miners on strike
Hartlepool Northern Daily Mail, Monday 8th September 1947.
35, 000 miners are still idle.
The number of miners on strike this morning was approximately 35,000 - a quarter of Yorkshire's mine labour force. Thirty-one pits were affected by the strike - 19 were completely idle and 12 partly affected. Thirteen pits previously affected by strike are now working normally. Three others who had been on strike are on annual holiday. The Grimethorpe men have refused appeal after appeal and rejected move after move to go back, holding that it was the Coal Board that must give ground. Yesterday they refused again when asked to allow three of their own union men to visit the pit and judge the practicability or otherwise of the extra stint.
Grimethorpe miners are talking about a long strike. They are using the miners' superstition about bringing pit ponies out of the pits as the omen for their calculations. [...]
35, 000 miners are still idle.
The number of miners on strike this morning was approximately 35,000 - a quarter of Yorkshire's mine labour force. Thirty-one pits were affected by the strike - 19 were completely idle and 12 partly affected. Thirteen pits previously affected by strike are now working normally. Three others who had been on strike are on annual holiday. The Grimethorpe men have refused appeal after appeal and rejected move after move to go back, holding that it was the Coal Board that must give ground. Yesterday they refused again when asked to allow three of their own union men to visit the pit and judge the practicability or otherwise of the extra stint.
Grimethorpe miners are talking about a long strike. They are using the miners' superstition about bringing pit ponies out of the pits as the omen for their calculations. [...]
Dunfermline, 1960s
Aberdeen Press and Journal, Wednesday 27th March 1968.
Scots Miner Tempted Fate - Died.
Miner William Hutton (46), died after defying a superstition he had followed for 22 years, his brother, Mr Benjamin Hutton said yesterday at an inquiry at Dunfermline Sheriff Court. Mr Hutton explained that his brother, of Wedderburn Crescent, Dunfermline, had made it a rule never to work underground on the last shift of the year, because of a miners' superstition that this was tempting fate. But on December 29 he had decided to work the last shift, so that he would have full pay and extra time off.
Two hours after starting the shift at Comrie Colliery he was killed by a one-ton stone which fell from the roof at the face. Mr Hutton said "Working the last shift of the year meant that Willie would have four days holiday - and he loved his New Year. He loved it more than he feared the old superstition about working the last shift." A formal verdict was returned.
Scots Miner Tempted Fate - Died.
Miner William Hutton (46), died after defying a superstition he had followed for 22 years, his brother, Mr Benjamin Hutton said yesterday at an inquiry at Dunfermline Sheriff Court. Mr Hutton explained that his brother, of Wedderburn Crescent, Dunfermline, had made it a rule never to work underground on the last shift of the year, because of a miners' superstition that this was tempting fate. But on December 29 he had decided to work the last shift, so that he would have full pay and extra time off.
Two hours after starting the shift at Comrie Colliery he was killed by a one-ton stone which fell from the roof at the face. Mr Hutton said "Working the last shift of the year meant that Willie would have four days holiday - and he loved his New Year. He loved it more than he feared the old superstition about working the last shift." A formal verdict was returned.
Kissing your wife
Leeds Mercury, Tuesday 5th April 1932.
Miners' Superstition.
Unlucky not to kiss wife on going to work.
That his wife had left him because he did not kiss her good-bye was stated by Angus Jenkinson, miner, Downs View Avenue, Deal, when summoned at Sheffield, yesterday, for neglecting her. He added: "She told me her father had said it would be unlucky for a miner not to kiss his wife good-bye before going to work."
It was stated the woman had been certified insane and was in a mental institution. The hearing was adjourned sine die on condition that Jenkinson paid 30s. for his wife's maintenance and repayment of relief.
Miners' Superstition.
Unlucky not to kiss wife on going to work.
That his wife had left him because he did not kiss her good-bye was stated by Angus Jenkinson, miner, Downs View Avenue, Deal, when summoned at Sheffield, yesterday, for neglecting her. He added: "She told me her father had said it would be unlucky for a miner not to kiss his wife good-bye before going to work."
It was stated the woman had been certified insane and was in a mental institution. The hearing was adjourned sine die on condition that Jenkinson paid 30s. for his wife's maintenance and repayment of relief.
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