Born: Luigi Pulci,
Italian poet, 1431, Florence; John Grater, eminent
scholar and critic, 1560, Antwerp; Matthew Wren,
bishop of Ely, 1585, London; Samuel Crompton, inventor
of the mule for spinning cotton, 1753, Firwood, near
Bolton; Robert Bloomfield,
poet, 1766, Honington,
Suffolk.
Died: Alexander Farnese,
Duke of Parma, distinguished commander, 1592; Giovanni
Belzoni, explorer of Egyptian antiquities, 1823, Gate,
in Guinea; John Flaxman, sculptor, 1826, London;
Frederick VI, king of Denmark, 1839; Robert
Montgomery, poet, 1855, Brighton; Christian Rauch,
sculptor, 1857, Dresden.
Feast Day: St. Lucius,
king and confessor, end of second century. St. Birinus,
bishop and confessor, 650. St. Sola, hermit, 790. St.
Francis Xavier, Apostle of the Indies, confessor,
1552.
SAMUEL CROMPTON
Muslins, until near the close
of last century, were all imported from India. English
spinners were unable to produce yarn fine enough for
the manufacture of such delicate fabrics.
Richard Arkwright
had invented spinning by rollers, and Hargreaves the
spinning jenny, when, in 1779, Crompton succeeded in
combining both inventions in his mule. He thereby
enabled spinners to draw out long threads, in large
numbers, to more than Hindu tenuity, and helped
Lancashire effectually to her high and lucrative
office of cotton-spinner-in-chief to the world.
Samuel Crompton was born on
the 3rd of December 1753, at Firwood, near Bolton. His
father was a farmer, and the household, after the
custom of Lancashire in those days, employed their
leisure in carding, spinning, and weaving. While
Samuel was a child, his father died. Shortly before
his death, he had removed to a portion of an ancient
mansion called Hall-in-the-Wood, about a mile from
Bolton. It was a large rambling building, built in
different styles and at different periods, and full of
rooms, large and small, connected by intricate stairs
and corridors. The picturesque site and appearance of
Hall-in-the-Wood has made it a favourite subject with
artists, and it has been painted and engraved again
and again. Seldom Has a mechanical invention had a
more romantic birthplace.
Widow Crompton was a
strong-minded woman, and carried on her husband's
business with energy and thrift. She was noted for her
excellent butter, honey, and elderberry wine. So high
was her repute for management, that she was elected an
overseer of the poor. Her boy Samuel she ruled straitly. He used to tell that
she beat him
occasionally, not for any fault, but because she so
loved him. He received an ordinary education at a
Bolton day-school, and when about sixteen, his mother
set him to earn his living by spinning at home, and
she exacted from him a certain amount of work daily.
His youth at Hall-in-the-Wood was passed in
comparative seclusion. All day he was alone at work,
his mother doing the bargaining and fighting with the
outer world. He was very fond of music, and managed to
construct a violin, on which he learned to play with
proficiency. His evenings he spent at a night-school
in the study of mathematics. A virtuous, reserved, and
industrious youth was Crompton's.
At Hall-in-the-Wood lived his
uncle, Alexander Crompton, a remarkable
character. He
was so lame that he could not leave the room in which
he slept and worked. On his loom he wove fustians, by
which he earned a comfortable living. Like the rest of
the family, his piety was somewhat austere; and as he
was unable to go to church, he was accustomed on
Sundays, as soon as he heard the bells ringing, to put
off his working -coat and put on his best. This done,
he slowly read from the prayer-book the whole of the
morning-service and a sermon, concluding about the
same time as the church was coming out, when his good
coat was laid aside, and the old one put on. In the
evening, the same solitary solemnity was gone through.
With one of Hargreaves's
jennies, Crompton span. The yarn was soft, and was
constantly breaking; and if the full quantity of
allotted work was not done, Mrs. Crompton scolded, and
the time lost in joining broken threads kept the
gentle spinner from his books and his darling fiddle.
Much annoyance of this kind drove his ingenuity into
the contrivance of some improvements.
Five years�from his
twenty-first year, in 1774, to his twenty-sixth in
1779�were spent in the construction of the mule. 'My
mind,' he relates, 'was in a continual endeavour to
realise a more perfect principle of spinning; and
though often baffled, I as often renewed the attempt,
and at length succeeded to my utmost desire, at the
expense of every shilling I had in the world.' He was,
of course, only able to work at the mule in the
leisure left after each day's task of spinning, and
often in hours stolen from sleep. The purchase of
tools and materials absorbed all his spare cash; and
when the Bolton theatre was open, he was glad to earn
eighteen-pence a night by playing the violin in the
orchestra. The first mule was made, for the most part,
of wood, and to a small roadside smithy he used to
resort, 'to file his bits o' things.'
Crompton proceeded very
silently with his invention. Even the family at
Hall-in-the-Wood knew little of what he was about,
until his lights and noise, while at work in the
night-time, excited their curiosity. Besides,
inventors of machinery stood in great danger from
popular indignation. The Blackburn spinners and
weavers had driven Hargreaves from his home, and
destroyed every jenny of more than twenty spindles for
miles round. When this storm was raging, Crompton took
his mule to pieces, and hid the various parts in a
loft or garret near the clock in the old Hall.
Meanwhile, he created much surprise in the market by
the production of yarn, which, alike in fineness and
firmness, surpassed any that had ever been seen. It
immediately became the universal question in the
trade, How does Crompton make that yarn? It was at
once perceived that the greatly-desired muslins,
brought all the way from the East Indies, might be
woven at home, if only such yarn could be had in
abundance.
At this time Crompton married,
and commenced housekeeping in a cottage near the Hall,
but still retained his work-room in the old place. His
wife was a first-rate spinner, and her expertness, it
is said, first drew his attention to her. Orders for
his fine yarn, at his own prices, poured in upon him;
and though he and his young wife span their hardest,
they were quite unable to meet a hundredth part of'
the demand. Hall-in-the-Wood became besieged with
manufacturers praying for supplies of the precious
yarn, and burning with desire to penetrate the secret
of its production. All kinds of stratagems were
practised to obtain admission to the house. Some
climbed up to the windows of the work-room, and peeped
in. Crompton set up a screen to hide himself, but even
that was not sufficient. One inquisitive adventurer is
said to have hid himself for some days in the loft,
and to have watched Crompton at work through a gimlet
hole in the ceiling.
If Crompton had only possessed
a mere trifle of worldly experience, there is no
reason why, at this juncture, he might not have made
his fortune. Unhappily his seclusion and soft
disposition placed him as a babe at the mercy of sharp
and crafty traders. He discovered he could not keep
his secret. 'A man,' he wrote, 'has a very insecure
tenure of a property which another can carry away with
his eyes. A few months reduced me to the cruel
necessity either of destroying my machine altogether,
or giving it to the public. To destroy it, I could not
think of; to give up that for which I had laboured so
long, was cruel. I had no patent, nor the means of
purchasing one. In preference to destroying, I gave it
to the public.'
Many, perhaps the majority of
inventors, have lacked the means to purchase a patent,
bat have, after due inquiry, usually found some
capitalist willing to provide the requisite funds.
There seems no reason to doubt, that had Crompton had
the sense to bestir himself, he could easily have
found a friend to assist him in securing a patent for
the mule, or the Hall-i'-th'-Wood-Wheel, as the people
at first called it.
He says he 'gave the mule to
the public;' and virtually he did, but in such a way
that he gained no credit for his generosity, and was
put to inexpressible pain by the greed and meanness of
those with whom he dealt. Persuaded to give up his
secret, the following document was drawn up.
'We, whose names are hereunto
subscribed, have agreed to give, and do hereby promise
to pay unto, Samuel Crompton, at the Hall-in-the-Wood,
near Bolton, the several sums opposite our names, as a
reward for his improvement in spinning. Several of the
principal tradesmen in Manchester, Bolton, &c., having
seen his new machine, approve of it, and are of
opinion that it would be of the greatest public
utility to make it generally known, to which end a
contribution is desired from every well-wisher of
trade.'
To this were appended
fifty-five subscribers of one guinea each,
twenty-seven of half a guinea, one of seven shillings
and sixpence, and one of five shillings and
sixpence�making, together, the munificent sum of �67,
6s. 6d., or less than the cost of the model-mule which
Crompton gave up to the subscribers! Never, certainly,
was so much got for so little. The merciless
transaction receives its last touch of infamy, from
the fact recorded by Crompton in these words:
'Many subscribers would not
pay the sums they had set opposite their names. When
I applied for them, I got nothing but abusive
language to drive me from them, which was easily
done; for I never till then could think it possible
that any man could pretend one thing and act the
direct opposite. I then found it was possible,
having had proof positive.'
Deprived of his reward,
Crompton devoted himself steadily to business. He
removed to Oldhams, a retired place, two miles to the
north of Bolton, where he farmed several acres, kept
three or four cows, and span in the upper story of his
house. His yarn was the best and finest in the market,
and brought the highest prices; and, as a consequence,
he was plagued with visitors, who came prying about
under the idea that he had effected some improvement
in his invention. His servants were continually bribed
away from him, in the hope that they might be able to
reveal something that was worth knowing. Sir
Robert
Peel (the first baronet) visited him at Oldhams, and
offered him a situation, with a large salary, and the
prospect of a partnership; but Crompton had a morbid
dislike to Peel, and he declined the overtures, which
might have led to his lasting comfort and prosperity.
In order to provide for his
increasing family, he moved into Bolton in 1791, and
enlarged his spinning operations. In 1800, some
gentlemen in Manchester commenced a subscription on
his behalf, but, what with the French war, the failure
of crops, and suffering commerce, their kindly effort
stuck fast between four and five hundred pounds. The
amount collected was handed over to Crompton, who sunk
it in the extension of his business.
Aided by the mule, the cotton
manufacture prodigiously-developed itself; but thirty
years elapsed are any serious attempt was made to
recompense the ingenuity and perseverance to which the
increase was owing. At last, in 1812, it was resolved
to bring Crompton's claims before parliament. It was
proved that 4,600,000 spindles were at work on his
mules, using up 40,000,000 lbs. of cotton annually;
that 70,000 persons were engaged in spinning, and
150,000 more in weaving the yarn so spun; and that a
population of full half a million derived their daily
bread from the machinery his skill had devised. The
case was clear, and Mr. Perceval, the chancellor of
the exchequer, was ready to propose a handsome vote of
money, when Crompton's usual ill-luck intervened in a
most shocking manner.
It was the afternoon of the
11th of May 1812, and Crompton was standing in the
lobby of the House of Commons conversing with Sir
Robert Peel and Mr. Blackburne, when one of them
observed: 'Here comes Mr. Perceval.' The group was
instantly joined by the chancellor of the exchequer,
who addressed them with the remark:
'You will be glad
to know that I mean to propose �20,000 for Crompton;
do you think it will be satisfactory?'
Hearing this, Crompton moved off from motives of delicacy,
and did
not hear the reply. He was scarcely out of sight when
the
madman Bellingham came up, and shot Perceval dead.
This frightful catastrophe lost Crompton �15,000. Six
weeks intervened before his case could be brought
before parliament, and then, on the 24th June, Lord
Stanley moved that he should be awarded �5000, which
the House voted without opposition. Twenty thousand
pounds might have been had as easily, and no reason
appears to have been given for the reduction of Mr.
Perceval's proposal. All conversant with Crompton's
merits felt the grant inadequate, whether measured by
the intrinsic value of his service, or by the rate of
rewards accorded by parliament to other inventors.
With the �5000 Crompton
entered into various manufacturing speculations with
his sons; but none turned out well, and as he advanced
in years some of his friends found it necessary to
subscribe, and purchase him an annuity of �63. A
second application to parliament on his behalf was
instituted, but it came to nothing. Worn out with
cares and disappointments, Crompton died at his house
in King Street, Bolton, on the 26th of June 1827, at
the age of seventy-four.
The unhappiness of Crompton's
life sprung from the absence of those faculties which
enable a man to hold equal intercourse with his
fellows. 'I found to my sorrow,' he writes, 'that I
was not calculated to contend with men of the world;
neither did I know there was such a thing as
protection for me on earth!' When he attended the
Manchester Exchange to sell his yams or muslins, and
any rough-and-ready manufacturer ventured to offer him
a less price than he had asked, he would invariably
wrap up his samples, put them into his pocket, and
quietly walk off. During a visit to Glasgow, the
manufacturers invited him to a public dinner; but he
was unable to muster courage to go through the ordeal,
and, to use his own words, 'rather than face up, I
first hid myself, and then fairly bolted from the
city.'
One day a foreign count called on him in
Bolton. Crompton sent a message that he was in bed,
and could not be seen. A friend, who accompanied the
count, thereon ran up stairs, and proposed to Crompton
that they should pay their visit in the bedroom; but
he would not be persuaded, and vowed that if the count
was brought up, he would hide under the bed! His
excessive pride made him extremely sensitive to the
very appearance of favour or patronage. To ask what
was due to him always cost him acute pain. When in
London, in 1812, prosecuting his claims, he wrote to
Mr. Giddy, one of his most steadfast supporters in
parliament, 'Be assured, sir, there will be no
difficulty in getting rid of me. The only anxiety I
now feel is, that parliament may not dishonour
themselves. Me they cannot dishonour. All the risk is
with them. I conceived it to be the greatest honour I
can confer on them, to afford them an opportunity of
doing me and themselves justice. I am certain my
friends and family would be ashamed of me, were I to
consider myself come here a-begging, or on the
contrary demanding. I only request that the case may
have a fair and candid hearing, and be dealt with
according to its merits.'
Crompton's habits were simple
and frugal in the extreme, and by his industry he
readily procured every comfort he cared to possess.
Well would it have been for him when he lost the
ownership of his invention, if he had been able to
sweep every expectation connected with it into
oblivion. The operation of these hopes were even less
mischievous on him than on his sons and daughters, who
unhappily were deprived of the guidance of their
mother's good sense in their childhood. Before their
eyes was continually dangling the possibility of their
father being raised to affluence; and when poor
Crompton came back to Bolton with �5000 instead of a
great fortune, he heard the bitterest reproaches in
his own household. His family he loved very tenderly,
and we can fairly imagine that it was goaded by desire
to satisfy them, that he spent five weary months in
London in 1812, dancing attendance on members of
parliament.
Crompton has been described by
those who knew him in the strength and beauty of
manhood, as a singularly handsome and prepossessing
man; all his limbs, and particularly his hands, were
elegantly formed, and possessed great muscular power.
He could easily lift a sack of flour by the head and
tail, and pitch it over the side of a cart. His
manners and motions were at all times guided by a
natural politeness and grace, as far from servility as
rudeness. His portrait displays a beautiful face and
head, in which. none can fail to discern a philosopher
and gentleman.
Crompton's memory, until
lately, has been strangely neglected. In 1859, Mr.
Gilbert J. French, of Bolton, published an
excellent
biography of his townsman, from which work our facts
have been drawn. A statue of Crompton, in bronze, by
Mr. W. Calder Marshall, was erected in the
market-place of Bolton in 1862.
GIOVANNI BATTISTA
BELZONI
In 1778, a son was born to a
poor barber in the ancient city of Padua. There was
little room for this novel addition to an impoverished
family of fourteen, and the youth's earliest
aspirations were to push his fortune far distant from
his father's house. A translation of Robinson Crusoe
falling into the lad's hands, excited an adventurous
spirit, that clung to him through life; for, strange
to say, Defoe's wonderful romance, though seemingly
written with a view to deter and discourage wandering
spirits, has ever had the contrary effect. When quite
a boy, the barber's son ran away from home, but, after
a few days' poverty, hardship, and weary travelling,
he was fain to return to the shelter of the parental
roof. He now settled for a season, learned his
father's business, and, becoming an able practitioner
with razor and scissors, he once more set off with the
determination of improving his fortunes in the city of
Rome. There a love disappointment induced him to enter
a Capuchin convent, where he remained till the arrival
of the French army threw the monks homeless and
houseless on the world. Of an almost gigantic figure,
and endowed with commensurate physical power, the
barber-monk now endeavoured to support himself by
exhibiting feats of strength and dexterity.
The old inclination for
wandering returning with increased force, he travelled
through Germany to Holland and England, reaching this
country in 1802. In the same year he performed at
Sadler's Wells Theatre, in the character of the
Patagonian Samson, as represented in the accompanying
engraving, copied from a very rare character portrait
of the day. His performance is thus described in a
contemporary periodical:
'Signor Belzoni's performance
consists in carrying from seven to ten men in a manner
never attempted by any but himself. He clasps round
him a belt, to which are affixed ledges to support the
men, who cling round him; and first takes up one under
each arm, receives one on either side, one on each of
his shoulders, and one on his back; the whole forming
a kind of a pyramid. When thus encumbered, he moves as
easy and graceful as if about to walk a minuet, and
displays a flag in as flippant a manner, as a dancer
on the rope.'
In some unpublished notes of
Ellar, the Harlequin and contemporary of Grimaldi, the
pantomimist observes that he saw Belzoni in 1808,
performing in Sander's Booth, at
Bartholomew Fair, in
the character of the French Hercules. In 1809, he
continues:
'Belzoni and I were jointly engaged at the
Crow Street Theatre, Dublin, in the production of a
pantomime�I as Harlequin, he as artist to superintend
the last scene, a sort of hydraulic temple, that,
owing to what is frequently the case, the being
overanxious, failed, and nearly inundated the
orchestra. Fiddlers generally follow their leader, and
Tom Cook, now leader at Drury Lane, was the man; out
they ran, leaving Columbine and myself, with the rest,
to finish the scene in the midst of a splendid shower
of fire and water. The young lady who played the part
of Columbine was of great beauty, and is now the wife
of the celebrated Thomas Moore, the poet. Signor
Belzoni was a man of gentlemanly but very unassuming
manners, yet of great mind.'
There are few towns in
England, Scotland, or Ireland in which Belzoni did not
exhibit about this period. The following is an exact
copy of one of his hand-bills, issued in Cork early in
1812. The GRAND CASCADE, mentioned in the bill, was in
all probability the splendid shower of fire and water
recorded in the preceding passage from Ellar's
note-book.
Theatre,
Patrick Street.
CUT
A Man's Head Off!!!
AND PUT IT ON AGAIN!
This present Evening MONDAY, Feb. 24, 1812,
And positively and definitively the LAST NIGHT
SIG. BELZONI
RESPECTFULLY acquaints the
Public, that by the request of his Friends, he will
Re-open the above Theatre for one night more�i. e.,
on MONDAY Feb. 24, and although it has been
announced in former Advertisements, that he would
perform for Two Nights �he pledges his word that
this present Evening, will be positively and
definitively the last night of his Re-presentations,
and when he will introduce a FEAT OF LEGERDEMAIN,
which he flatters himself will astonish the
Spectators, as such a feat never was attempted in
Great Britain or Ireland. After a number of
Entertainments, he will
CUT
A Man's Head 0ff!
And put it on Again!!!
ALSO THE
GRAND CASCADE.
Belzoni married in Ireland,
and continuing his wandering life, exhibited in
France, Spain, and Italy. Realizing a small capital by
his unceasing industry, he determined to visit Egypt,
a country that for ages has been the El Dorado of the
Italian race. Belzoni's object in visiting Egypt was
to make a fortune by instructing the natives to raise
water, by a very dangerous method, now abandoned�a
kind of tread-wheel, formerly known to English
mechanics by the technical appellation of 'the
monkey.' Being unsuccessful in this endeavour, he
turned his attention to removing some of the ancient
Egyptian works of art, under the advice and patronage
of Mr. Salt, the British consul. The various
adventures he went through, and how he ultimately
succeeded, are all detailed by Belzoni in the
published account of his travels, entitled Narrative
of the Operations and recent Discoveries in the
Pyramids, Temples, Tombs, and Cities of Egypt and Nubia.
Scarcely four years' exertions
in Egypt had made Belzoni comparatively wealthy and
famous. On his way to England, to publish his book, he
visited Padua, and was received with princely honours.
The authorities met him at the city gates, presented
him with an address, and ordered a medal to be struck
in his honour. Arriving in London, he became the
fashionable lion of the day; and with a pardonable
reticence, Belzoni took care not to allude to the
character he had formerly sustained when in England.
On this point the late Mr. Crofton Croker tells an
interesting story, published in Willis's Current
Notes. He says:
'I remember meeting Belzoni, the last
day of 1821, at the late Mr. Murray's, in Albemarle
Street, where we saw the New Year in, and 'glorious
John' brewed a special bowl of punch, for the
occasion. Beside the juvenile family of our host, the
whole D'Israeli family were present. We all played a
merry game of Pope Joan, and when that was over,
Murray presented to each a pocket-book, as a
New-year's gift. Murray was engaged, at a side-table,
making the punch, upon tasting the excellence of which
he uttered something like the sounds made by a
puppet-showman, when about to collect an audience. The
elder D'Israeli thereupon took up my pocket-book, and
wrote with his pencil the following impromptu:
"Gigantic Belzoni at Pope
Joan and tea,
What a group of mere puppets, we seem beside thee;
Which our kind host perceiving, with infinite jest,
Gives us Punch at our supper, to keep up the jest."
'Indifferent as the epigram
itself was, I smiled at it, and observed: "Very
true�excellent!" Which Belzoni perceiving, said: "Will
you permit me to partake of your enjoyment?"
"Certainly," I replied, handing him the book. Never
shall I forget his countenance after he had read the
four lines. He read the last line twice over, and then
his eyes actually flashed fire. He struck his
forehead, and muttering: "I am betrayed! " abruptly
left the room'
At a subsequent interview
between Mr. Croker and Belzoni, the latter accounted
for his strange conduct by stating that he had
considered the lines to be an insulting allusion to
his early life as a show-man. On Mr. Croker explaining
that they could not possibly have any reference to
Min, Belzoni requested the former to accompany him to
Mr. Murray, with the view of making an explanation.
They went, and then the great publisher knew, for the
first time, that the celebrated Egyptian explorer had
been an itinerant exhibitor.
The active mind of Belzoni
soon tired of a mere London existence. In 1822, he
determined to embark in the too fatal field of African
adventure. In the following year, when passing from
Benin to Houssa, on his way to Timbuctoo, he was
stricken with dysentery, carried back to Gato, and put
on board an English vessel lying off the coast, in
hopes of receiving benefit from the sea-air. He there
died, carefully attended by English friends, to whom
he gave his amethyst ring, to be delivered to his
wife, with his tender affection and regrets that he
was too weak to write his last adieux.
The kindly sailors, among whom
he died, carried his body ashore, and buried it under
an arsamatree, erecting a monument with the following
inscription:
HERE
LIE THE REMAINS
OF
G. BELZONI, Esq.
Who was attacked with
dysentery on the 20th Nov. at Benin, on his way to
Houssa and Timbuctoo, and died at this place on the
3rd December 1823.
'The gentlemen who placed
this inscription over the remains of this celebrated
and intrepid traveller, hope that every European
visiting this spot, will cause the ground to be
cleared and the fence around repaired if necessary.'
The people of Padua have since
erected a statue to the memory of their townsman, the
energetic son of a poor barber; but it was not till
long after his death that the government of England
bestowed a small pension on the widow of Belzoni.
'CROSSING THE LINE'
Among the festivals of the old
Roman calendar, in pagan times, we find one celebrated
on the 3rd of December, in honour of Neptune and
Minerva. In connection with the former of these
deities, we may here appropriately introduce the
account of a well-known custom, which, till recently,
prevailed on board ship, and was regarded as specially
under the supervision of Neptune, who, in propri�, was
supposed to act the principal part in the ceremony in
question. We refer to the grand marine saturnalia
which used to be performed when crossing the line:'
that is, when passing from north to south latitude, or
vice vers�. The custom, in some form or other, is
believed to be very ancient, and to have been
originally instituted on the occasion of ships passing
out of the Mediterranean into the Atlantic, beyond the
'Pillars of Hercules.' It had much more absurdity
than vice about it; but sometimes it became both
insulting and cruel. When the victims made no
resistance, and yielded as cheerfully as they could to
the whim of the sailors, the ceremony was performed
somewhat in the following way, as related by Captain
Edward Hall, and quoted by Hone:
'The best executed of these
ceremonies I ever saw, was on board a ship of the
line, of which I was lieutenant, bound to the West
Indies. On crossing the line, a voice, as if at a
distance, and at the surface of the water, cried:
"Ho, ship ahoy! I shall come on board!" This was
from a person slung over the bows, near the water,
speaking through his hands. Presently two men of
large stature came over the bows. They had hideous
masks on. One represented Neptune.
He was naked to the waist,
crowned with the head of a large wet swab, the end
of which reached to his loins, to represent flowing
locks; a piece of tarpaulin, vandyked, encircled the
head of the swab and his brows as a diadem; his
right hand wielded a boarding-pike, manufactured
into a trident; and his body was smeared with red
ochre, to represent fish-scales. The other sailor
represented Amphitrite, having locks formed of
swabs, a petticoat of the same material, with a
girdle of red bunting; and in her hand a comb and
looking-glass. They were followed by about twenty
fellows, naked to the waist, with red ochre scales,
as Tritons.
They were received on the
forecastle with much respect by the old sailors, who
had provided the carriage of an eighteen-pounder gun
as a car, which their majesties ascended: and were
drawn aft along the gangway to the quarter-deck by
the sailors. Neptune, addressing the captain, said
he was happy to see him again that way; adding that
he believed there were some "Johnny Raws" on board
who had not paid their dues, and whom he intended to
initiate into the salt-water mysteries. The captain
answered, that he was happy to see him, but
requested he would make no more confusion than was
necessary. They then descended to the main-deck, and
were joined by all the old hands, and about twenty "
barbers," who submitted the shaving-tackle to
inspection.' This shaving tackle consisted of pieces
of rusty hoop for razors, and very unsavoury
compounds as shaving-soap and shaving-water, with
which the luckless victim was bedaubed and soused.
If he bore it well, he was sometimes permitted to
join in per-forming the ceremony upon other 'Johnny Raws.'
