Piotr Nater
speaker
792 appearances
1 recordings
1 series
first heard Aug 2026
last heard 8 Aug
Piotr Nater’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.
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recordings per month · last 12 monthsRecordings per month over the last 12 months — 1 in all, peaking in Aug 2026 with 1.
Appearances
commenced descending into the bowels of the earth by an easy staircase in a square shaft.
Six boys carrying flaming lamps were distributed among our party, and one of the superintendents assumed the office of conductor.
After descending two hundred and ten feet, we saw the first veins of rock salt, in a bed of clay and crumbled sandstone.
Thirty feet more and we were in a world of salt.
Level galleries branched off from the foot of the staircase, overhead ceiling of solid salt, underfoot a floor of salt, and on either side dark grey walls of salt, sparkling here and there with minute crystals.
Mm.
Lights glimmered ahead, and on turning a corner we came upon a gang of workmen, some hacking away at the solid floor, others trundling wheelbarrows full of the precious cubes.
Here was the chapel of Saint Anthony, the oldest in the mines, a Byzantine excavation supported by columns with altar, crucifix, and life sized statues of saints, apparently in black marble, but all as soldiers
world as Lot's wife, as I discovered by putting my tongue to the nose of John the Baptist.
The humid air of this upper story of the mine had damaged some of the saints.
Francis especially is running away like a dip candle, and all of his head is gone except his chin.
The limbs of Joseph are dropping off, as if he had the Norwegian leprosy, and Lawrence has deeper scars than his gridian could have made, running up and down his back.
A Bengal light, burnt at the altar, brought into sudden life this strange temple, which presently vanished into utter darkness as if it had never been.
I cannot follow step by step our journey of two hours through the labyrinths of this wonderful mine.
It is a bewildering maze of galleries, grand halls, staircases, and vaulted chambers, where one soon loses all sense of distance or direction and drifts along blindly in the wake of his conductor.
Everything was solid salt, except where great piers of hewn logs had been built to support some threatening groof, or vast chasm left in quarrying had been bridged across.
As we descended to lower regions, the air became more dry and agreeable, and the saline wall more pure and brilliant.
One hole, one hundred and eight feet in height, resembled a Grecian theatre.
The traces of blocks taken out in regular layers representing the seats for the spectators.
Out of this single hole, one million hundred weight of salt had been taken, or enough to supply the forty million inhabitants of Austria for one year.
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