Mechanical automata of the ancients--Moving tripods--Automata
of Dædalus--Wooden pigeon of Archytas--Automatic clock of
Charlemagne--Automata made by Turrianus for Charles V.--Camus’s
automatic carriage made for Louis XIV.--Degenne’s mechanical
peacock--Vaucanson’s duck which ate and digested its food--Du
Moulin’s automata--Baron Kempelen’s automaton chess-player--Drawing
and writing automata--Maillardet’s conjurer--Benefits derived from
the passion for automata--Examples of wonderful machinery for useful
purposes--Duncan’s tambouring machinery--Watt’s statue-turning
machinery--Babbage’s calculating machinery.
We have already seen that the ancients had attained some degree of
perfection in the construction of automata, or pieces of mechanism
which imitated the movements of man and the lower animals. The tripods,
which Homer[31] mentions as having been constructed by Vulcan for the
banqueting-hall of the gods, advanced of their own accord to the table,
and again returned to their place. Self-moving tripods are mentioned by
Aristotle; and Philostratus informs us, in his life of Apollonius, that
this philosopher saw and admired similar pieces of mechanism among the
sages of India.
[31] Iliad, lib. xviii., 373-378.
Dædalus enjoys also the reputation of having constructed machines that
imitated the motions of the human body. Some of his statues are said
to have moved about spontaneously; and Plato, Aristotle, and others
have related that it was necessary to tie them, in order to prevent
them from running away. Aristotle speaks of a wooden Venus, which moved
about in consequence of quicksilver being poured into its interior; but
Callistratus, the tutor of Demosthenes, states, with some probability,
that the statues of Dædalus received their motion from the mechanical
powers. Beckmann is of opinion that the statues of Dædalus differed
only from those of the early Greeks and Egyptians in having their eyes
open and their feet and hands free, and that the reclining posture of
some, and the attitude of others, “as if ready to walk,” gave rise to
the exaggeration that they possessed the power of locomotion. This
opinion, however, cannot be maintained with any show of reason; for if
we apply such a principle in one case, we must apply it in all, and
the mind would be left in a state of utter scepticism respecting the
inventions of ancient times.
We are informed by Aulus Gellius, on the authority of Favorinus,
that Archytas of Tarentum, who flourished about four hundred years
before Christ, constructed a wooden pigeon that was capable of flying.
Favorinus relates that, when it had once alighted, it could not again
resume its flight; and Aulus Gellius adds, that it was suspended by
balancing, and animated by a concealed aura, or spirit.
Among the earliest pieces of modern mechanism was the curious
water-clock presented to Charlemagne by the Kaliph Haroun al Raschid.
In the dial-plate there were twelve small windows corresponding with
the divisions of the hours. The hours were indicated by the opening of
the windows, which let out little metallic balls, which struck the hour
by falling upon a brazen bell. The doors continued open till twelve
o’clock, when twelve little knights, mounted on horseback, came out
at the same instant, and after parading round the dial, shut all the
windows and returned to their apartments.[32]
[32] Annales Loisiliani, anno 807.
The next automata of which any distinct account has been preserved
are those of the celebrated John Muller, Regiomontanus, which have
been mentioned by Kircher, Baptista Porta, Gassendi, Lana, and Bishop
Wilkins. This philosopher is said to have constructed an artificial
eagle, which flew to meet the Emperor Maximilian when he arrived at
Nuremberg on the 7th June, 1740. After soaring aloft in the air, the
eagle is stated to have met the Emperor at some distance from the city,
and to have returned and perched upon the town gate, where it waited
his approach. When the Emperor reached the gate, the eagle stretched
out its wings, and saluted him by an inclination of its body. Muller
is likewise reported to have constructed an iron fly which was put
in motion by wheel-work, and which flew about and leapt upon the
table. At an entertainment given by this philosopher to some of his
familiar friends, the fly flew from his hand, and after performing a
considerable round, it returned again to the hand of its master.
The Emperor Charles V., after his abdication of the throne, amused
himself in his later years with automata of various kinds. The artist
whom he employed was Janellus Turrianus of Cremona. It was his custom
after dinner to introduce upon the table figures of armed men and
horses. Some of these beat drums, others played upon flutes, while a
third set attacked each other with spears. Sometimes he let fly wooden
sparrows, which flew back again to their nest. He also exhibited
corn-mills so extremely small that they could be concealed in a glove,
yet so powerful that they could grind in a day as much corn as would
supply eight men with food for a day.
The next piece of mechanism of sufficient interest to merit our
attention is that which was made by M. Camus, for the amusement of
Louis XIV. when a child. It consisted of a small coach, which was drawn
by two horses, and which contained the figure of a lady within, with a
footman and page behind. When this machine was placed at the extremity
of a table of the proper size, the coachman smacked his whip, and the
horses instantly set off, moving their legs in a natural manner, and
drawing the coach after them: when the coach reached the opposite edge
of the table, it turned sharply at a right angle, and proceeded along
the adjacent edge. As soon as it arrived opposite the place where the
king sat, it stopped; the page descended and opened the coach-door; the
lady alighted, and with a curtsey presented a petition, which she held
in her hand to the king. After waiting some time she again curtsied and
re-entered the carriage. The page closed the door, and having resumed
his place behind, the coachman whipped his horses and drove on. The
footman, who had previously alighted, ran after the carriage and jumped
up behind into his former place.
Not content with imitating the movements of animals, the mechanical
genius of the 17th and 18th centuries ventured to perform by wheels
and pinions the functions of vitality. We are informed by M. Lobat,
that Gen. Degennes, a French officer who defended the colony of St.
Christopher’s against the English forces, constructed a peacock which
could walk about as if alive, pick up grains of corn from the ground,
digest them as if they had been submitted to the action of the stomach,
and afterwards discharged them in an altered form. Degennes is said to
have invented various machines of great use in navigation and gunnery,
and to have constructed clocks without weights or springs.
The automaton of Degennes probably suggested to M. Vaucanson the idea
of constructing his celebrated duck, which excited so much interest
throughout Europe, and which was perhaps the most wonderful piece of
mechanism that was ever made. Vaucanson’s duck exactly resembled the
living animal in size and appearance. It executed accurately all its
movements and gestures, it ate and drank with avidity, performed all
the quick motions of the head and throat which are peculiar to the
living animal, and, like it, it muddled the water which it drank with
its bill. It produced also the sound of quacking in the most natural
manner. In the anatomical structure of the duck, the artist exhibited
the highest skill. Every bone in the real duck had its representative
in the automaton, and its wings were anatomically exact. Every cavity,
apophysis, and curvature was imitated, and each bone executed its
proper movements. When corn was thrown down before it, the duck
stretched out its neck to pick it up, it swallowed it, digested it, and
discharged it in a digested condition. The process of digestion was
effected by chemical solution, and not by trituration, and the food
digested in the stomach was conveyed away by tubes to the place of its
discharge.
The automata of Vaucanson were imitated by one Du Moulin, a
silversmith, who travelled with them through Germany in 1752, and who
died at Moscow in 1765. Beckmann informs us that he saw several of them
after the machinery had been deranged; but that the artificial duck,
which he regarded as the most ingenious, was still able to eat, drink,
and move. Its ribs, which were made of wire, were covered with duck’s
feathers, and the motion was communicated through the feet of the duck
by means of a cylinder and fine chains like that of a watch.
[Illustration: _Fig. 66._]
[Illustration: _Fig. 67._]
Ingenious as all these machines are, they sink into insignificance
when compared with the automaton chess-player, which for a long time
astonished and delighted the whole of Europe. In the year 1769, M.
Kempelen, a gentleman of Presburg in Hungary, constructed an automaton
chess-player, the general appearance of which is shown in the annexed
figures. The chess-player is a figure as large as life, clothed in a
Turkish dress, sitting behind a large square chest or box, three feet
and a half long, two feet deep, and two and a half high. The machine
runs on castors, and is either seen on the floor when the doors of the
apartment are thrown open, or is wheeled into the room previously to
the commencement of the exhibition. The Turkish chess-player sits on a
chair fixed to the square chest: his right arm rests on the table, and
in the left he holds a pipe, which is removed during the game, as it is
with this hand that he makes the moves. A chess-board, eighteen inches
square, and bearing the usual number of pieces, is placed before the
figure. The exhibitor then announces to the spectators his intention
of showing them the mechanism of the automaton. For this purpose he
unlocks the door A, Fig. 66, and exposes to view a small cupboard lined
with black or dark-coloured cloth, and containing cylinders, levers,
wheels, pinions, and different pieces of machinery, which _have the
appearance_ of occupying the whole space. He next opens the door B,
Fig. 67, at the back of the same cupboard, and holding a lighted candle
at the opening, he still further displays the inclosed machinery to
the spectators, placed in front of A, Fig. 66. When the candle is
withdrawn, the door B is then locked; and the exhibitor proceeds to
open the drawer G G, Fig. 66, in front of the chest. Out of this drawer
he takes a small box of counters, a set of chess-men, and a cushion for
the support of the automaton’s arm, as if this was the sole object of
the drawer. The two front doors C C, of the large cupboard, Fig. 66,
are then opened, and at the back-door D of the same cupboard, Fig. 67,
the exhibitor applies a lighted candle, as before, for the purpose of
showing its interior, which is lined with dark cloth like the other,
and contains only a few pieces of machinery. The chest is now wheeled
round, as in Fig. 67: the garments of the figure are lifted up, and the
door E in the trunk, and another door F in the thigh, are opened, the
doors B and D having been previously closed. When this exhibition of
the interior of the machine is over, the chest is wheeled back into its
original position on the floor. The doors A, C, C, in front, and the
drawer G, G, are closed and locked, and the exhibitor, after occupying
himself for some time at the back of the chest, as if he were adjusting
the mechanism, removes the pipe from the hand of the figure, and winds
up the machinery.
The automaton is now ready to play, and when an opponent has been found
among the company, the figure takes the first move. At every move
made by the automaton, the wheels of the machine are heard in action;
the figure moves its head, and seems to look over every part of the
chess-board. When it gives check to its opponent, it shakes its head
_thrice_, and only _twice_ when it checks the queen. It likewise shakes
its head when a false move is made, replaces the adversary’s piece on
the square from which it was taken, and takes the next move itself. In
general, though not always, the automaton wins the game.
During the progress of the game, the exhibitor often stands near the
machine, and winds it up like a clock, after it has made ten or twelve
moves. At other times he went to a corner of the room, as if it were to
consult a small square box, which stood open for this purpose.
The chess-playing machine, as thus described, was exhibited after its
completion in Presburg, Vienna, and Paris, to thousands, and in 1783
and 1784 it was exhibited in London and different parts of England,
without the secret of its movements having been discovered. Its
ingenious inventor, who was a gentleman and a man of education, never
pretended that the automaton itself really played the game. On the
contrary, he distinctly stated, “that the machine was a _bagatelle_,
which was not without merit in point of mechanism, but that the effects
of it appeared so marvellous only from the boldness of the conception,
and the fortunate choice of the methods adopted for promoting the
illusion.”
Upon considering the operations of this automaton, it must have been
obvious that the game of chess was performed either by a person
enclosed in the chest, or by the exhibitor himself. The first of these
hypotheses was ingeniously excluded by the display of the interior
of the machine, for as every part contained more or less machinery,
the spectator invariably concluded that the smallest dwarf could
not be accommodated within, and this idea was strengthened by the
circumstance, that no person of this description could be discovered
in the suite of the exhibitor. Hence the conclusion was drawn,
that the exhibitor actuated the machine either by mechanical means
conveyed through its feet, or by a magnet concealed in the body of
the exhibitor. That mechanical communication was not formed between
the exhibitor and the figure, was obvious from the fact, that no such
communication was visible, and that it was not necessary to place the
machine on any particular part of the floor. Hence the opinion became
very prevalent that the agent was a magnet; but even this supposition
was excluded, for the exhibitor allowed a strong and well-armed
loadstone to be placed upon the machine during the progress of the
game. Had the moving power been a magnet, the whole action of the
machine would have been deranged by the approximation of a loadstone
concealed in the pockets of any of the spectators.
As Baron Kempelen himself had admitted that there was an illusion
connected with the performance of the automaton, various persons
resumed the original conjecture, that it was actuated by a person
concealed in its interior, who either played the game of chess himself,
or performed the moves which the exhibitor indicated by signals. A Mr.
J. F. Freyhere, of Dresden, published a book on the subject in 1789,
in which he endeavoured to explain, by coloured plates, how the effect
was produced; and he concluded, “that a well-taught boy very thin and
tall of his age (sufficiently so that he could be concealed in a drawer
almost immediately under the chess-board), agitated the whole.”
In another pamphlet, which had been previously published at Paris in
1785, the author not only supposed that the machine was put in motion
by a dwarf, a famous chess-player; but he goes so far as to explain
the manner in which he could be accommodated within the machine. The
invisibility of the dwarf when the doors were opened was explained by
his legs and thighs being concealed in two hollow cylinders, while the
rest of his body was out of the box, and hid by the petticoats of the
automaton. When the doors were shut, the clacks produced by the swivel
of a ratchet-wheel permitted the dwarf to change his place, and return
to the box unheard; and while the machine is wheeled about the room,
the dwarf had an opportunity of shutting the trap through which he
passed into the machine. The interior of the figure was next shown, and
the spectators were satisfied that the box contained no living agent.
Although these views were very plausible, yet they were never generally
adopted; and when the automaton was exhibited in Great Britain in 1819
and 1820, by M. Maelzel, it excited as intense an interest as when it
was first produced in Germany. There can be little doubt, however,
that the secret has been discovered; and an anonymous writer has
shown in a pamphlet, entitled “_An attempt to analyse the Automaton
Chess-player of_ M. Kempelen,” that it is capable of accommodating an
ordinary sized man; and he has explained in the clearest manner how the
inclosed player takes all the different positions, and performs all the
motions which are necessary to produce the effects actually observed.
The following is the substance of his observations:--The drawer G G
when closed does not extend to the back of the chest, but leaves a
space O, behind it (see Figs. 74, 75, and 76), fourteen inches broad,
eight inches high, and three feet eleven inches long. This space is
never exposed to the view of spectators. The small cupboard seen at A
is divided into two parts, by a door or screen I, Fig. 73, which is
moveable upon a hinge, and is so constructed that it closes at the same
instant that B is closed. The whole of the front compartment as far as
I is occupied with the machinery H. The other compartment behind I is
empty, and communicates with the space O behind the drawer, the floor
of this division being removed. The back of the great cupboard C C is
double, and the part P Q, to which the quadrants are attached, moves
on a joint Q, at the upper part, and forms when raised an opening S,
between the two cupboards, by carrying with it part of the partition
R, which consists of cloth tightly stretched. The false back is shown
closed in Fig. 74, while Fig. 75 shows the same back raised, so as to
form the opening S between the chambers.
When the spectator is allowed to look into the trunk of the figure by
lifting up the dress, as in Fig. 75, it will be observed that a great
part of the space is occupied by an inner trunk N, Figs. 75, 76, which
passes off to the back in the form of an arch, and conceals from the
spectators a portion of the interior. This inner trunk N opens and
communicates with the chest by an aperture T, Fig. 77, about twelve
inches broad and fifteen high. When the false back is raised, the two
cupboards, the trunk N, and the space O behind the drawer, are all
connected together.
[Illustration: No. 68.]
[Illustration: No. 69.]
The construction of the interior being thus understood, the
chess-player may be introduced into the chest through the sliding panel
U, Fig. 74. He will then raise the false back of the large cupboard,
and assume the position represented by the shaded figure in Figs. 68
and 69. Things being in this state, the exhibitor is ready to begin his
process of deception. He first opens the door A of the small cupboard,
and from the crowded and very ingenious disposition of the machinery
within it, the eye is unable to penetrate far beyond the opening, and
the spectator concludes, without any hesitation, that the whole of the
cupboard is filled, as it appears to be, with similar machinery. This
false conclusion is greatly corroborated by observing the glimmering
light which plays among the wheel-work when the door B is opened, and a
candle held at the opening. This mode of exhibiting the interior of the
cupboard satisfies the spectator also, that no opaque body, capable of
holding or concealing any of the parts of a hidden agent, is interposed
between the light and the observer. The door B is now locked and the
screen I closed, and as this is done at the time that the light is
withdrawn, it will wholly escape observation.
The door B is so constructed as to close by its own weight, but as the
head of the chess-player will soon be placed very near it, the secret
would be disclosed if, in turning round, the chest door should by any
accident fly open. This accident is prevented by turning the key, and,
lest this little circumstance should excite notice, it would probably
be regarded as accidental, as the keys were immediately wanted for the
other locks.
As soon as the door B is locked, and the screen I closed, the secret
is no longer exposed to hazard, and the exhibitor proceeds to lead
the minds of the spectators still farther from the real state of
things. The door A is left open to confirm the opinion that no person
is concealed within, and that nothing can take place in the interior
without being observed.
[Illustration: _Fig. 70._]
The drawer GG is now opened, apparently for the purpose of looking
at the chess-men, cushion, and counters, which it contains; but
the real object of it is to give time to the player to change his
position, as shown in the annexed figure, and to replace the false
back and partition preparatory to the opening of the great cupboard.
The chess-player, as the figure shows, occupies with his body the
back compartment of the small cupboard, while his legs and thighs
are contained in the space O, behind the drawer GG, his body being
concealed by the screen I, and his limbs by the drawer GG.
The great cupboard CC is now opened, and there is so little machinery
in it, that the eye instantly discovers that no person is concealed in
it. To make this more certain, however, a door is opened at the back,
and a lighted candle held to it, to allow the spectators to explore
every corner and recess.
The front doors of the great and small cupboard being left open,
the chest is wheeled round to show the trunk of the figure, and the
bunch of keys is allowed to remain in the door D, as the apparent
carelessness of such a proceeding will help to remove any suspicion
which may have been excited by the locking of the door B.
When the drapery of the figure has been raised, and the doors E and F
in the trunk and thigh opened, the chest is wheeled round again into
its original position, and the doors E and F closed. In the mean time
the player withdraws his legs from behind the drawer, as he cannot so
easily do this when the drawer GG is pushed in.
In all these operations, the spectator flatters himself that he has
seen in succession every part of the chest, while in reality some parts
have been wholly concealed from his view, and others but imperfectly
shown, while at the present time nearly half of the chest is excluded
from view.
[Illustration: No. 71.]
[Illustration: No. 72.]
When the drawer G G is pushed in, and the doors A and C closed, the
exhibitor adjusts the machinery at the back, in order to give time
to the player to take the position shown in a front view in Fig. 71,
and in profile in Fig. 72. In this position he will experience no
difficulty in executing every movement made by the automaton. As his
head is above the chess-board, he will see through the waistcoat of the
figure, as easily as through a veil, the whole of the pieces on the
board, and he can easily take up and put down a chess-man without any
other mechanism than that of a string communicating with the finger of
the figure. His right hand, being within the chest, may be employed to
keep in motion the wheel-work for producing the noise which is heard
during the moves, and to perform the other movements of the figure,
such as that of moving the head, tapping on the chest, &c.
A very ingenious contrivance is adopted to facilitate the introduction
of the player’s left arm into the arm of the figure. To permit this,
the arm of the figure requires to be drawn backwards; and for the
purpose of concealing, and at the same time explaining this strained
attitude, a pipe is ingeniously placed in the automaton’s hand. For
this reason the pipe is not removed till all the other arrangements are
completed. When every thing has been thus prepared, the pipe is taken
from the figure, and the exhibitor winds up, as it were, the inclosed
machinery, for the double purpose of impressing upon the company the
belief that the effect is produced by machinery, and of giving a signal
to the player to put in motion the head of the automaton.
[Illustration: _Fig. 73._]
[Illustration: _Fig. 74._]
This ingenious explanation of the chess automaton is, our author
states, greatly confirmed by the _regular and undeviating_ mode of
disclosing the interior of the chest; and he also shows that the facts
which have been observed respecting the winding up of the machine,
“afford positive proof that the axis turned by the key is quite free
and unconnected either with a spring or weight, or any system of
machinery.”
In order to make the preceding description more intelligible, I shall
add the following more detailed explanation of the figures.
Fig. 66 is a perspective view of the automaton seen in front with all
the doors thrown open.
Fig. 67 is an elevation of the automaton, as seen from behind.
Fig. 68 is an elevation of the front of the chest, the shaded figure
representing the inclosed player in his first position, or when the
door A is opened.
Fig. 69 is a side elevation, the shaded figure representing the player
in the same position.
Fig. 70 is a front elevation, the shaded figure showing the player in
his second position, or that which he takes after the door B and screen
I are closed, and the great cupboard opened.
Fig. 71 is a front elevation, the shaded figure showing the player in
his third position, or that in which he plays the game.
Fig. 72 is a side elevation showing the figure in the same position.
Fig. 73 is a horizontal section of the chest through the line WW in
Fig. 71.
Fig. 74 is a vertical section of the chest through the line XX in Fig.
73.
[Illustration: _Fig. 75._]
[Illustration: _Fig. 76._]
Fig. 75 is a vertical section through the line YY Fig. 71, showing the
false back closed.
Fig. 76 is a similar vertical section showing the false back raised.