A Thrilling Narrative.Thetown ofSt.Etienne, in the department of the Loire, has acquired, by its manufactures of iron and silk, the appellation of the Birmingham and Coventry of France. Though very far from contemptible, it is however, at most, only a miniature likeness of the two celebrated towns to which it is compared. For its prosperity, it is indebted to the circumstance of iron oar and coal being abundant in its vicinity. Among the coal mines in its immediate neighborhood, is that of Bois Monzil, the scene of the event which is now to be described.On the 2d of February, 1831, about eight in the morning, when there were twenty-six men at work, a sudden detonation was heard, instantly followed by the roar of water, rushing from the adjoining pit. The cry of alarm was quickly spread through the mine, but only ten of the laborers were able to reach the entrance. One of them was driven forward with such violence, by the condensed air and the torrent, that his escape was miraculous; another was so terrified, that he hurried forward, without thinking to disencumber himself of a sack of coals which he had upon his shoulders; a third, who possessed both presence of mind and humanity, snatched up a boy of eleven years old and bore him away in his arms.Eight individuals perished. Some of them were swept away by the deluge—but at least one of them had to endure a lingering death. He was heard for some hours knocking against the sides of his prison; at the end of that time the knocking ceased—the flood had overwhelmed him. The remaining eight workmen were fortunate enough to reach a gallery on a higher level; but, as it had no other outlet than that by which they entered, their fate was certain, unless the water should recede, or their friends could open a passage through the rock beneath them.On hearing of the accident, the engineers of the mine hastened with their assistants to the spot. Thirty hours elapsed before the miners could penetrate into some of the lower galleries from which the water had retired. They repeatedly called aloud to their lost companions, but no voice was heard in reply.They then struck with their pickaxes upon the roof, and after several fruitless trials, they were rejoiced to hear an equal number of answering knocks.Measures were immediately adopted for opening a communication with the imprisoned men; the principal of them were the boring a hole through the rock, in the supposed direction whence the sound came, and the forming of an inclined tunnel. But there was much difficulty in ascertaining the point to which they ought to direct their efforts; for the sound of their blows on the roof, far from offering a certain criterion, or at least a probable one, seemed each time to excite fresh doubts. The rock, too, was so hard and thick, that the gunpowder employed in blasting it produced but a trifling effect; nor could the pumps be got to work, and they were therefore obliged to resort to the slow and incompetent method of forming a line of men from the gallery to the mouth of the mine, and passing the buckets from hand to hand.The persons who were thus employed, had to work upon a rapid slope, in a crouching posture, with the water dropping all round them, and generally rising up to the middle of their bodies. They had to endure that which was still worse to men not devoid of humanity. The wives of the hapless miners had heard that all hope was not extinct, and they hastened to the spot. With heart-rending cries, and shedding tears alternately of despair and hope, they exclaimed, “Are theyallthere? Where is the father of my children? Isheamongst them, or has he been swallowed up by the waters?”When it became known atSt.Etienne and its vicinity, that there was a prospect of saving a part of the victims, the whole of the National Guards, and several hundreds of miners and other persons, thronged to lend their assistance. The pumps were now got to work, and the line of men with buckets was consequently discontinued. Yet, notwithstanding the number of additional hands, the work proceeded but slowly. Such was the flinty hardness of the rock, that frequently the tools either broke, or remained immovably fixed in the stone. The water also filtered in rapidly through the perforation which they were making, and seemed to threaten another irruption.It was now Sunday, and the spirits of the workmen began to flag. On the following day an alarming incident occurred which spread a general panic. A terrific noise was heard, which was prolonged in echoes throughout the mine. When their terror had sufficiently subsided to allow of their investigating its cause, they found that an enormous mass of rock had fallen into one of the draining wells. Though this fall was attended by no bad consequences, the workmen were so much disheartened by it, that it required much management to bring them back to their labors, and revive their courage and perseverance.By dint of persuasion and argument, the superintendents at length prevailed on the men to make a vigorous effort. In a very short time, that effort was crowned with success. The instrument of one of the miners penetrated into the shut-up gallery, and was drawn from his hands by the poor imprisoned miners. But the man who had thus been the first to open a way into their dungeon, wasstill more unfortunate than they were. At the moment when hope dawned to them, it set forever to him. He was the father of one of the men who had disappeared in the mine. His paternal feelings seemed to have endowed him with superhuman strength. Night and day he quitted his work only for a few minutes to return to it with redoubled vigor.One absorbing thought occupied his whole soul; the idea that his son, hisonlyson, was with those who were heard from within. In vain he was solicited to retire; in vain they strove to force him from labors too fatiguing for his age. “My son is among them,” said he; “I hear him; nothing shall prevent me from hastening his release;” and from time to time he called on his son, in accents that tore the hearts of the bystanders. His first question, on the instrument being drawn from his hand, was, “My child!” His Antoine was no more; he had been drowned.For four days, medical men had been present in the mine, to be ready to give their aid, as soon as a passage should be opened. They now directed soup to be introduced through a tube, and air to be forced into the gallery by means of bellows. Food was, however, by no means the most urgent want of the captives; light was what they first and most pressingly requested. A tinder-box was conveyed to them, but the vitiated air of their dungeon rendered it of no use. At first, they seemed to be strengthened by the soup, of which they had made their oldest and weakest companions the earliest partakers; but afterwards it had a contrary effect. They therefore for the present rejected the nourishment which was occasionally supplied, and expressed but one wish, which was that their friends would make haste. Yet one at least there was, who had not lost all his gaiety. This was a man, named Fereol. When he was asked what day he thought it was, be replied, “Sunday;” and upon being told it was Monday, he rejoined, “Ah, I ought to have known that—for yesterday we indulged ourselves by tippling freely—of water.”But though some of them retained their cheerfulness, the strength of all was rapidly failing. Their utterance grew gradually more faint; and about six in the evening, the last words that could be distinguished were, “Brothers, make haste.” By ten in the evening, they had broken through sixteen feet of solid rock, and liberated the captives. Looking more like spectres than human beings, the miners, one by one, slowly traversed the gallery, and emerged into open air, which they had so recently almost despaired of ever breathing again. From the mouth of the mine to the temporary residence allotted them, the whole way was illuminated. The engineers, the pupils, and the workmen, with the National Guard under arms, were drawn up in two lines to form a passage; and thus, in the midst of a religious silence, did these poor fellows traverse an attentive and sympathizing crowd, who, as they passed along, inclined their heads, as a sort of respect and honor to their sufferings.Generosityis a pleasant, agreeable, fascinating virtue; justice is more stern, but must be regarded as the higher virtue of the two.
Thetown ofSt.Etienne, in the department of the Loire, has acquired, by its manufactures of iron and silk, the appellation of the Birmingham and Coventry of France. Though very far from contemptible, it is however, at most, only a miniature likeness of the two celebrated towns to which it is compared. For its prosperity, it is indebted to the circumstance of iron oar and coal being abundant in its vicinity. Among the coal mines in its immediate neighborhood, is that of Bois Monzil, the scene of the event which is now to be described.
On the 2d of February, 1831, about eight in the morning, when there were twenty-six men at work, a sudden detonation was heard, instantly followed by the roar of water, rushing from the adjoining pit. The cry of alarm was quickly spread through the mine, but only ten of the laborers were able to reach the entrance. One of them was driven forward with such violence, by the condensed air and the torrent, that his escape was miraculous; another was so terrified, that he hurried forward, without thinking to disencumber himself of a sack of coals which he had upon his shoulders; a third, who possessed both presence of mind and humanity, snatched up a boy of eleven years old and bore him away in his arms.
Eight individuals perished. Some of them were swept away by the deluge—but at least one of them had to endure a lingering death. He was heard for some hours knocking against the sides of his prison; at the end of that time the knocking ceased—the flood had overwhelmed him. The remaining eight workmen were fortunate enough to reach a gallery on a higher level; but, as it had no other outlet than that by which they entered, their fate was certain, unless the water should recede, or their friends could open a passage through the rock beneath them.
On hearing of the accident, the engineers of the mine hastened with their assistants to the spot. Thirty hours elapsed before the miners could penetrate into some of the lower galleries from which the water had retired. They repeatedly called aloud to their lost companions, but no voice was heard in reply.They then struck with their pickaxes upon the roof, and after several fruitless trials, they were rejoiced to hear an equal number of answering knocks.
Measures were immediately adopted for opening a communication with the imprisoned men; the principal of them were the boring a hole through the rock, in the supposed direction whence the sound came, and the forming of an inclined tunnel. But there was much difficulty in ascertaining the point to which they ought to direct their efforts; for the sound of their blows on the roof, far from offering a certain criterion, or at least a probable one, seemed each time to excite fresh doubts. The rock, too, was so hard and thick, that the gunpowder employed in blasting it produced but a trifling effect; nor could the pumps be got to work, and they were therefore obliged to resort to the slow and incompetent method of forming a line of men from the gallery to the mouth of the mine, and passing the buckets from hand to hand.
The persons who were thus employed, had to work upon a rapid slope, in a crouching posture, with the water dropping all round them, and generally rising up to the middle of their bodies. They had to endure that which was still worse to men not devoid of humanity. The wives of the hapless miners had heard that all hope was not extinct, and they hastened to the spot. With heart-rending cries, and shedding tears alternately of despair and hope, they exclaimed, “Are theyallthere? Where is the father of my children? Isheamongst them, or has he been swallowed up by the waters?”
When it became known atSt.Etienne and its vicinity, that there was a prospect of saving a part of the victims, the whole of the National Guards, and several hundreds of miners and other persons, thronged to lend their assistance. The pumps were now got to work, and the line of men with buckets was consequently discontinued. Yet, notwithstanding the number of additional hands, the work proceeded but slowly. Such was the flinty hardness of the rock, that frequently the tools either broke, or remained immovably fixed in the stone. The water also filtered in rapidly through the perforation which they were making, and seemed to threaten another irruption.
It was now Sunday, and the spirits of the workmen began to flag. On the following day an alarming incident occurred which spread a general panic. A terrific noise was heard, which was prolonged in echoes throughout the mine. When their terror had sufficiently subsided to allow of their investigating its cause, they found that an enormous mass of rock had fallen into one of the draining wells. Though this fall was attended by no bad consequences, the workmen were so much disheartened by it, that it required much management to bring them back to their labors, and revive their courage and perseverance.
By dint of persuasion and argument, the superintendents at length prevailed on the men to make a vigorous effort. In a very short time, that effort was crowned with success. The instrument of one of the miners penetrated into the shut-up gallery, and was drawn from his hands by the poor imprisoned miners. But the man who had thus been the first to open a way into their dungeon, wasstill more unfortunate than they were. At the moment when hope dawned to them, it set forever to him. He was the father of one of the men who had disappeared in the mine. His paternal feelings seemed to have endowed him with superhuman strength. Night and day he quitted his work only for a few minutes to return to it with redoubled vigor.
One absorbing thought occupied his whole soul; the idea that his son, hisonlyson, was with those who were heard from within. In vain he was solicited to retire; in vain they strove to force him from labors too fatiguing for his age. “My son is among them,” said he; “I hear him; nothing shall prevent me from hastening his release;” and from time to time he called on his son, in accents that tore the hearts of the bystanders. His first question, on the instrument being drawn from his hand, was, “My child!” His Antoine was no more; he had been drowned.
For four days, medical men had been present in the mine, to be ready to give their aid, as soon as a passage should be opened. They now directed soup to be introduced through a tube, and air to be forced into the gallery by means of bellows. Food was, however, by no means the most urgent want of the captives; light was what they first and most pressingly requested. A tinder-box was conveyed to them, but the vitiated air of their dungeon rendered it of no use. At first, they seemed to be strengthened by the soup, of which they had made their oldest and weakest companions the earliest partakers; but afterwards it had a contrary effect. They therefore for the present rejected the nourishment which was occasionally supplied, and expressed but one wish, which was that their friends would make haste. Yet one at least there was, who had not lost all his gaiety. This was a man, named Fereol. When he was asked what day he thought it was, be replied, “Sunday;” and upon being told it was Monday, he rejoined, “Ah, I ought to have known that—for yesterday we indulged ourselves by tippling freely—of water.”
But though some of them retained their cheerfulness, the strength of all was rapidly failing. Their utterance grew gradually more faint; and about six in the evening, the last words that could be distinguished were, “Brothers, make haste.” By ten in the evening, they had broken through sixteen feet of solid rock, and liberated the captives. Looking more like spectres than human beings, the miners, one by one, slowly traversed the gallery, and emerged into open air, which they had so recently almost despaired of ever breathing again. From the mouth of the mine to the temporary residence allotted them, the whole way was illuminated. The engineers, the pupils, and the workmen, with the National Guard under arms, were drawn up in two lines to form a passage; and thus, in the midst of a religious silence, did these poor fellows traverse an attentive and sympathizing crowd, who, as they passed along, inclined their heads, as a sort of respect and honor to their sufferings.
Generosityis a pleasant, agreeable, fascinating virtue; justice is more stern, but must be regarded as the higher virtue of the two.