SHAVING BY MACHINERY.
We have tried every kind of shave at every variety of price, from the shilling operation of the West End to that most frightful of tortures, "an easy shave for a halfpenny," in the New Cut, Lambeth. We have been shaved by a drunkard, under whose "effacing fingers" we have felt our beard bristling up with fear, "like quills upon the fretful porcupine," and we have been shaved by an aged individual with the palsy, who has made sudden darts at us with the razor, and ultimately triumphed over the difficulties that stared him in the face—that is to say, in our own face—with a "bloodless victory." We have been shaved by a woman in Scotland; by an apprentice in Shoreditch; by a sailor on board ship in a storm; by ourselves in the dark; by a schoolfellow, for fun; and by young beginners, for practice. In fact, we have shown a sort of reckless audacity in getting rid of our beard, that would have justified our enemies in saying that we have evinced a wondrous amount of bold-faced effrontery. But, notwithstanding all these perils which flesh is heir to, in having the hair removed from the flesh, we should be afraid to patronise, or give our countenance to, a certain new invention which is described in the following newspaper paragraph:—
"Shaving by Machinery.—Mr. William Johnson, of North Shields, Joiner, has invented a shaving machine. This machine is of singular construction, and contains every qualification necessary for the process. In appearance it is not unlike an old-fashioned arm-chair. But the most unique feature in the whole affair is the arrangement of the razor blades, which are fixed longitudinally on cylinders, from three to six inches in length, four on each cylinder, at an angle of 60 degrees, with fine camel-hair brushes between; for you are lathered and shaved at one and the same time, the lather being slipped from the interior of the cylinders, which are hollow. The machine is put in motion by the weight of the patient, the seat gradually giving way beneath, and sinking with him until he reaches the ground, when the operation is completed. The seat, rising immediately it is released from his weight, is ready to commence again without any preparation. A musical-box, of Mr. Johnson's construction, and capable of performing a great variety of airs, is appended to the machine, and can be attached or detached according to the pleasure of the person undergoing the operation, so that you may be shaved to any tune you please! Experiments (says the Gateshead Observer) have been tried and found satisfactory."—Durham Advertiser.
We must confess, that, however ingenious this machine may be, we should feel very much in the same situation as the gentleman who was deposited in the barrel of spikes before we took our seat amidst the cylinders, with our face among a lot of razors, "four on each cylinder." As the cylinders are "fixed," there can be no allowance for an extra amount of cheek, an exuberance of lip, or protuberance of nose; but when the "patient"—as he is very properly called—is once in for the operation, he must take his chance as to the relative position of his features and the fixed razors, nor must he think of being "nice to a shaving." When the "patient" takes his seat off goes the machine, set in motion by his weight, and stoppage seems to be out of the question until "he reaches the ground, when the operation is completed." No wonder that the patient should sink under an operation of such very alarming gravity, by the law of which he comes to the floor with a degree of force commensurate to the weight of his own body. The seat, having released itself from its burden by shooting the "patient" on to the floor, is ready for another victim.
We should hardly like to be operated upon by a single razor with our chair trembling beneath us; but to find ourselves amidst a "forest of blades"—four on each cylinder—with our seat giving way under us, would be a position so frightful that it is one we hardly venture to contemplate.
A shabby attempt appears to have been made to gloss over the more alarming features of this infernal shaving machine, or guillotine, by setting it to music. We hope the airs played by the box spoken of are appropriate; and we should suggest the March in Blue Beard as peculiarly fitted to a machine reminding one of beards and blood, of soap and scimitars.