The Mines and its Wonders

Contrasting with the bright glitter of the salt mines of Wieliczka are the gloomy slate quarries of Saint Peter’s Mount, near Maestricht, in the Netherlands, the most extensive in the world. For centuries they have been worked, both for building and manuring, and probably benefiting the agriculturist more than the architect. In spring and summer the labourers occupy themselves in their fields above ground, and not until winter approaches do they begin to burrow in the entrails of the earth.

The two travellers followed a trusty guide through those endless passages, which constantly crossed each other, either to the left hand or to the right. Darkness to be felt, silence profound, reigned everywhere, even the human voice seemed to die away without awakening an echo – the only sound to be heard being an occasional dropping of water from the roof into a small pool below.

Suddenly the guide extinguished his torch, when, bold as they were, and well accustomed to subterranean regions, a sensation of awe crept over them. Their first impulse was to feel for the wall, for in vain their eyes sought a ray of light, as in vain, also, their ears listened for the slightest sound.

Neither spoke for some minutes, and they experienced a sensation of relief when the guide relit his torch. Numbers of hapless beings have been lost in these trackless galleries, and here and there are inscriptions on the walls, notifying that a corpse was found on the ground below. One poor workman lost his way, and roamed about until his torch died out of his burnt fingers. The lamp of another was overturned, and he in vain endeavoured to find his way out of some remote gallery.

A French geologist while exploring the quarry discovered a corpse shrivelled to a mummy, the hat lying close to his head, a rosary in his hand. It was conjectured to be the body of a workman who had died more than half-a-century before, the dry air and the absence of insects explaining the preservation of the corpse. Two centuries ago four Franciscan monks resolved to construct a chapel in honour of their tutelar saint. In order to be able to retrace their steps, they took with them a large ball of twine, leaving one end secured to a spot where people were constantly passing. Their twine unwound, they at length reached a vast hall, probably not visited for many ages. Near the entrance one of them drew a sketch of the convent, and wrote beneath it the date of their discovery. When about to return, what was their horror to find that their twine had snapped. They must have searched for it in vain, for never more did they return.

At last the prior, alarmed at their absence, sent parties to explore the excavations, but so vast were they even then, that seven days elapsed before the corpses of the hapless friars were found, their faces downwards, and their hands folded as if in prayer.

During the siege of Maestricht by the French Republic, a party of the besiegers occupied the quarries. The Austrians who garrisoned Fort Pierre at the back of the mountain, formed a plan to drive them out, and tunnelling made their way towards their enemies. Although they marched silently along, their torches betrayed them, and the besiegers pouring in a volley of musketry killed a large number, made prisoners of some, and drove the rest into the depths of the cavern.

On the banks of the Nile are several prodigious stone quarries, from which the cities of ancient Egypt were built. Perhaps the largest is that of Haggar Silsibis. Here passages, broad as streets, with walls fifty or sixty feet high, now stretching straight forward, now curved, extend from the east bank of the river into the heart of the mountain, where halls have been hollowed out large enough to contain the Roman Colosseum, the rough hewn irregular roof resting upon immense square or many-sided pillars, some of which are eighty to a hundred feet in circumference. Here numerous blocks, already completely separated from the rock, appear ready to be transported; the labours of the quarry-men having suddenly been arrested by the invasion of the Conqueror, who overthrew the priests of Isis.

One of the most curious quarries of ancient days is found near Syracuse. The greater portion is a hundred feet below the level of the earth, and of vast extent, the whole hewn out of rock as hard as marble, the blocks thus obtained being employed in building Syracuse. It is converted by the monks, who have a convent above it, into a garden – a romantic and beautiful spot, as no wind can touch it. It is filled with a variety of vines and shrubs and fruit trees, among which oranges, citrons, pomegranates, and figs grow luxuriantly, and obtain an unusual size. Sicily produces sulphur in large quantities – the chief sulphur pits being near Girgenti. Most of the inhabitants are employed in them, to the neglect of the rich soil of their island; they labour away in the most primitive manner, pickaxe and spade being the only implements employed.

When a promising vein is struck, the miners set to work, and filling their baskets with the sulphur, carry it out and throw it into large heaps of a conical shape. These mounds are covered over with moist clay, some openings being left for the escape of smoke; the bottom is then ignited, and the matted sulphur flows out through grooves into pans, where it congeals in solid masses. The passages to the mines are so narrow, that persons can with difficulty pass each other; they then expand into high vaults, the roofs of which are ornamented with beautiful crystals of celestine and gypsum. On account of the excessive heat, the workmen labour in a nearly nude state, their dark brown skins sprinkled with light yellow sulphur dust, making them look savage and strange in the extreme. Towards the end of the last century, the sulphur mine of Sommatin caught fire, the conflagration causing the complete abandonment of the pit. For two years it raged, until the mountain, suddenly bursting asunder, a stream of molten sulphur gushed forth, and precipitated itself into the neighbouring river. The mass of sulphur, amounting to upwards of 40,000 tons, was thus obtained by the owners of the former pit, who had believed themselves ruined.

There are sulphur mines in different parts of the world, the largest of which are in Japan, but too remote to be worked with advantage. Gypsum, or sulphate of lime, better known as Plaster of Paris, is found in prodigious quantities at Montmartre, close to that city; but as it can readily be worked without having recourse to subterranean excavation, it need not be mentioned further.

When gypsum assumes an opaque, consistent, and semi-transparent form, it is known as Alabaster. The largest quarries are near Volterra, in Italy. Here the whole population have been employed for centuries, either in cutting it out of the mine, or in converting it into elegant forms of great variety, which are sent to all parts of the world.

Great Britain possesses inexhaustible alabaster mines in the neighbourhood of Derby. Some is worked on the spot, but the finest blocks are sent to the studios of sculptors.

Quicksilver, or mercury, is among the rarest of metals. The only two important mines in Europe are at Almaden, in Spain, and Idria, in Carniola. The former, situated on the Sierra Morena, was for many years farmed off to the Fuggers of Augsburg, but are now worked either by government or private companies. This was one of the most interesting spots visited by the two travellers.

Entering a spacious tunnel, completely walled with solid masonry, they advanced into the very bosom of the mountain. Here galleries branch out in various directions, hewn in the slate forming the matrix of the vein. One of them leads to a vast circular hall, called the Boveda de Santa Clara. At one time a horse gin was employed in this hall for raising the ore, but at present this work is performed through a shaft descending to the lowest level of the mine. Convenient steps lead down from another gallery to the first working level, and thence the descent is by short ladders to deeper storeys. The galleries are of a sufficient height to allow a person to work upright. The upper ones are dry, but the lower are humid and damp, although the water is easily raised by hand-pumps from storey to storey into a large receiver, which is emptied by a steam-engine. So extremely rich are the veins, that although worked for many centuries, the mine has scarcely yet reached a depth of 1140 feet. The present quantity raised annually amounts to eighty-thousand hundredweight of pure mercury. The ore known as cinnabar is of a dark-red colour, and gives a beautiful appearance to the galleries. Sometimes when a hewer detaches a block of ore with his pick mass of quicksilver, the size of a pigeon’s egg, rolls out, and leaping along the floor, divides into thousands of small drops. Owing to the imperfect apparatus with which the ore is sublimated, nearly one-half is lost. Formerly criminals only were employed in these mines. They were conducted at sunrise from prison by a subterranean passage into the mine, and compelled to toil on until the evening, when they were led back again to their dungeons. In a few years the greater number died, through inhaling the poisonous vapours of the mercury. Reduced to despair, a century and a-half ago, they set fire to the galleries, which, being then constructed of wood, were destroyed, and mining operations put a stop to for many years. Only free labourers are now employed, who are not allowed to work longer than six hours a-day. Most of these, however, die between the ages of thirty and forty, and those who exist longer are affected by palsy.

The quicksilver mines of Idria were discovered upwards of three centuries ago by a peasant who had placed a tub under a spring issuing from the mountain side. On attempting to move it, he found it excessively heavy, and on examining the bottom he saw that it was partly full of a heavy liquid, shining like silver. Ignorant of the value of the substance, he had sense enough to take it to a goldsmith, without mentioning the place where he had found it. In course of time, however, a man named Anderlein, having bribed him, became master of the secret, and with several others began to work the mine. In the next century the Venetians drove out the Germans, but were finally compelled by the Emperor Maximilian to give it up, and he restored it to its rightful owners. The mine has since been worked by the State. Ingress to the mine can be obtained by descending a convenient flight of steps, with galleries running off here and there from landing-places, or by descending in a few minutes through a perpendicular shaft in one of the tubs by which the ore is raised. The galleries lead to the various storeys of the mine, the lowest of which is 145 fathoms beneath the surface. The vein itself descends to an unknown depth, and is horizontal, but its extent has not yet been measured. The ores being embedded in limestone of a loose nature, all the galleries had from the first to be supported by wooden props. The wood has, on several occasions caught fire, with disastrous results. Early in this century the labourers observed a thick smoke issuing from the deepest part of the mine. It rose higher and higher, spreading through the upper galleries, yet no fire was to be seen, nor sound of flames heard.

Some of the workmen attempted to reach the scene of the fire, but were driven back by the dense and suffocating smoke, impregnated with vapours. Endeavours were made to smother the fire, but though the mine remained closed for five weeks, no sooner was it re-opened than the fire burst forth more furiously than at first. The howling of the flames ascending from the lowest depths of the pit awed the spectators, and the mercurial and sulphureous fumes arising from it threatened instant destruction to all who might approach. The director of the mine, as a last resource, came to the decision of flooding the works, and a river turned into the shaft ran down it for two days and three nights. At first no perceptible effect was produced, but on the second a terrific explosion shook the mountain as if an earthquake had taken place. The huts near the opening were blown to pieces, and even the stone houses on the slopes of the hill, fell with tremendous crashes. Water, however, gained the victory. Gradually the vapour dispersed, and after a few weeks the workmen were able to descend into the pit. They found, however, the galleries torn up, the vaulted roofs burst, and the stairs destroyed. It took two years to pump out the water, which, it is said, poisoned all the fish in the Idriza.

High pay being offered to any who would venture in to collect the quicksilver, which had accumulated in considerable quantities, many, tempted by the bribe, made their way into the workings, but overcome by the mercurial vapours, several perished.

The galleries have now been formed of stone, seven feet high and six feet broad, though some are still propped up with wood. They are of immense extent, amounting to no less than fifty miles. As late as 1846 another fire occurred in the wooden galleries, which was quenched by putting that part under water. The workmen labour in a tropical heat and an atmosphere full of deadly vapours. It is no wonder that a premature age overtakes many of them, and that young men are seen trembling in every limb, though it is said that those who survive their forty-fifth year may live on until they are sixty or seventy. To transport mercury, the greatest care is required. It is first packed in sacks of sheepskin, tanned with alum. The sack, being pressed and punched to ascertain if it is sound, is enclosed in a second skin. These are then placed in a small cask, and the cask again in a square box. Notwithstanding these precautions, as the sacks sometimes burst, the loss of the metal is great, and the mercury is now generally transported in large iron bottles, the stoppers being screwed down by means of a machine; in this condition, it is exported to England.