THE STRANGE TALE OF JOHN LUX
Entymology, we are told is the study of language and its origins, and
this story was related to me one evening in the snug of the Queens
Legs - a small pub on the outskirts of Nether Spanking (which by the
way has very strong links with the late Jimmy Saville. But that is
another story).
As we sat together at the end of the day, the log fire burning merrily
and our two pints of deliciously blended mild ale and bitter beer half
finished in front of us this entymologist, whose name I cannot quite
remember though I think it had something to do with dogs, told me the
story of one of the most often used phrases in the English language
and how it came about.
It appears that the story goes back a couple of hundred years or so,
to the time of the last of the English Dandies, to the nephew of Beau
Brummel, one John Lux.
Now John Lux, as well as being an inveterate traveller, celebrated
humourist, shipping magnate and founder of the great soap empire whose
packets would bear his name for many years, also took a great interest in the
problems found by the explorers of the time regarding accurate
navigation at sea.The principles of both celestial navigation and the
magnetic compass had been known since ancient times and he took a
particular interest in both the design and the development of the
magnetic compass.
He took the compass right back to its original design of Chinese
origin. This was normally in the form of a figure, or "Lode" as it was
known. This lode contained an amount of a naturally occurring magnetic
iron ore, which was known as lodestone. If the figure were allowed to
pivot freely, its outstretched hand, which was made of the lodestone,
would always point to the north, and this arrangement constituted a
primitive form of the compass that we know today.
During exhaustive testing Lux found that the Chinese had been right
with their ideas, and that a figure cast in bronze, but with the
outstretched arm manufactured from lodestone and mechanically fitted
to the body gave results that were somewhat superior to the card and
needle compasses of the day. But Lux did not stop there. He found that
by repeated heating and cooling of the lodestone its structure became
crystallised and this improved the alignment of the magnetic flux
within the ore, with the result that even more impressive accuracy was
obtained.
John Lux started to produce a range of compasses in various sizes
based on the traditional Chinese style from a small workshop near
Oxford, and being a vain man he based the design of the figure upon
himself, seated, dressed in his finest and with the right arm, which
was manufactured from the lodestone ore, extended out to the horizon.
Though these were immediately popular because of their accuracy and
durability they did suffer from one problem. Due to the lack of
bearing technology available at the time, the base pivot pin, which
was inserted in the nether regions of the seated figure, and was the
point about the whole figure pivoted, corroded in the salt sea air.
Though this did not impair the accuracy of the instrument, it did
cause small squeaks to be emitted from the said nether regions of the
figure as it slowly moved about its axis.
Another problem was that the Copyright of the name "Compass" was owned
by the Navigation Instrument & Effluent Disposal Equipment
Manufacturing Company of Oldham. So not being able to call his
instrument a compass, he called it a Lode in deference to the
lodestone ore that had made him rich. He even introduced refinements
in the bronze castings. It became possible for the knowledgeable to
date the instrument by the type of cravat the figure was wearing, or
by the style of the whiskers. He sold lodes by the hundred, all
miniatures of himself, and after a while the Navy became interested.
This proved to be the final seal on his good fortune and he moved his
small workshop to much larger premises at Greenwich. His proudest
moment was when the newly refitted Victory, the largest ship of the
line, was fitted with a brand new Lode, the largest manufactured to
date with an overall hieght of almost eighteen inches to the top of
his hat.
On an autumn morning towards the beginning of the nineteenth century,
Admiral Nelson was walking the deck of the Victory with his good
friend Captain Hardy when the French Fleet was sighted on the horizon.
He immediately ordered his fleet to action stations, issued an extra
ration of rum flavoured Coke to all the sailors around him,
scribbled down a signal he would like sent to the fleet on a passing
Midshipman and gave it to Hardy with a request that it be sent
forthwith. He then strolled towards the ship's wheel and settled down
to watch the French Fleet grow larger in his telescope.
There were a lot of flags required to send Nelsons famous "England
expects" signal and the chief signalman was tired when he had hoisted
them up the mast. He wiped his brow on a grime stained kerchief when
the job was done and raised his eyes in apprehension towards the
French fleet.
Now the extreme sensitivity and the built in squeak of the dapper John
Lux's Lode have already been noted. This, being a large example of his
work was not only abnormally sensitive, but its squeak was at a low
pitch, more of a rumble really.
The large number of flags hoisted by the chief signalman had an
effect. A very miniscule effect, but still an effect on the Victory,
causing it to alter its course no more than half a degree to
starboard. The Lode, being so sensitive as to easily be able to
respond to such a small change in the ships direction, slowly swung
its outstretched hand and its aforementioned rumble was clearly heard by the Admiral
standing by the wheel.
Admiral Nelson, who was not expecting the sound, was slightly
startled. He whirled round to face the cause of the sound (after first
looking accusingly at Hardy), and being a man who appreciated the
wonder of this navigational instrument, he started to examine it a
little more closely than he had in the recent past. He took in its
quality, detail and size at a glance and he was heard by the man at
the ships wheel to say "well shiver my timbers Hardy, this must be
.
.
.
.
The Biggest Lode of Beau Lux I Have Ever Heard!"
