THREE HOURS UNDERGROUND.
I had been walking for three weeks in Cornwall when I entered the town of Redruth one fine evening in September, in the yearwell never mind about the year; no witness is bound to criminate himself, and there may be that in this narrative which I should not wish to tie up too closely with dates and circumstances. I had travelled from London to Falmouth by steamboat; thence, skirting the coast, I had enjoyed some of the finest scenery in England, for the coast of Cornwall is undoubtedly more picturesque than any other part of the shores of Albion. I had stood on the southernmost point of England, and spent some hours with the coast-guardsmen, watching them whilst they trimmed the Lizard Light. I had seen Kynance Core, with its beautiful serpentine rocks, where the green waves dance upon a carpet of the whitest sand. I had sat, or had fancied that I sate, upon the Land’s End; and believing myself in perfect solitude, and securely engaged in thought, had been horrified—in such a place—by hearing at my shoulder the croaking voice of a guide, who actually told me that he knew a rock a hundred yards more to seaward than that on which I sat, and offered for a consideration to conduct me to it. This had been more than I could stand, and knocking out the ashes of my pipe as a testimony against him, I resumed my knapsack, sad in the belief that there existed no place in England where the luxury of solitude could be really and safely enjoyed. A short walk brought me thence to the quaint public-house with the double-faced sign “The Last and First House in England.” I had continued round the coast as far as St. Ive’s, whence I had struck out through the country towards Redruth, intending in a few days to reach Launceston.
Every tourist I had talked with expressed, as I felt, disappointment with the inland scenery of western Cornwall. There are none of the mountains which one expects to find in so primeval a geological formation; there are none of the woods which clothe with such beauty some of our western hills and valleys; there are neither castles or cathedrals to delight the archaeological or the historical student. Everything bears witness that the riches of the district are underground. The more certain produce which the cultivation of the surface would yield is in many places abandoned for the speculative profits of mining. There are mines everywhere. Perched on hills may be seen the unpretentious buildings which are all that are required for the aboveground works of a mine. Now there are some close alongside the road, and the noise of the wheels, with the puffings of the steam-engine, tells every passer-by of the hidden labour which is being plied below, with an energy generally encouraged by self-interest.
Redruth is the capital of the mining district, and long before I reached the town I had resolved to go down a copper mine; for to make a tour in Cornwall without seeing something of mining would, I felt, be as great a loss of opportunity as to witness the greatest composition of our greatest dramatist with the best known and most prominent character omitted.
I had had some tea and cold meat in the coffee-room of the King’s Head, and with every bodily want satisfied, was speculating on future proceedings, for which I thought possibly the local paper might give me some guidance; so obtaining from the waiter a coffee-stained sheet of news, I was dreamily engaged in looking over the advertisements. There were many lots of mining shares for sale, with prospective profits which looked—at least on paper—most attractive. The language of mining is peculiar. It is not, perhaps, without good reason that mines are likened to ships. They are of the same gender, their manager is always styled captain, and the shareholders adventurers.
At last my eye fell on an advertisement, and dwelt there with a sense of satisfaction;—for did I not wish to go down a mine? and surely here was the means of realising my desire. “The Great Fowey Consols {I am not bound to be particular as to names), one of the oldest mines in the county, which had been worked with great profits for many years, with all its plant, &c., &c.,” was for sale, and might be viewed by special orders, to be obtained at the office of Mr. Tredgar, a solicitor in the town.
I resolved to apply to Mr. Tredgar early in the morning, and went to bed pleased in the prospect of the gratification I should experience to-morrow. About half-past nine I found my way to Mr. Tredgar’s office, and was shown at once into his room. He was a short, thick man, with a fussy manner, but also with an appearance of self-help about him, which made me think it not improbable that he, like so many others in this county had raised himself from a very humble station.
“What can I do for you, sir?” said Mr. Tredgar, after he had kindly offered me a chair.
“I want an order to look over the Great Fowey Consols,” I replied, with external boldness, but with much internal fear, lest Mr. Tredgar might examine me in mining, and find me sadly unfit to be an inspector. Had I known, however, that mining speculations are almost invariably carried on with great secrecy, and not unfrequently with the help of much trickery, I should have been less nervous. As it was, I believe Mr. Tredgar did not expect the truth of me, nor that any pleasure-seeker would be so absurd as to go looking for it down a copper-mine; and had I told him that I knew nothing of minerals, he would probably have thought me a very clever and dissimulating purchaser. I was somewhat relieved, however, when he sat down, saying:
“Yes, sir. May I ask if it is for yourself, sir?”
I told him I wanted it only for myself—adding my name; when, prefacing with a slight cough, he proceeded to take soundings as to capital.
“Were there many adventurers associated with myself, and was I aware of the amount of capital required?”
I could answer none of these questions, I said; a reply which seemed thoroughly satisfactory to Mr. Tredgar, for, taking a pen, he dashed off an order to inspect the mine, where he told me I should receive every attention.
Wishing him good morning, I hurried back to my inn, strapped on my knapsack, and set off for the Great Fowey Mine, which was situated about