There is, consequently, now no longer any part of the man in the main
compartment--his body being behind the machinery in cupboard No. 1,
and his legs in the space occupied by the drawer. The exhibiter,
therefore, finds himself at liberty to display the main compartment.
This he does--opening both its back and front doors--and no person Is
discovered. The spectators are now satisfied that the whole of the
box is exposed to view--and exposed too, all portions of it at one
and the same time. But of course this is not the case. They neither
see the space behind the drawer, nor the interior of cupboard No. 1
--the front door of which latter the exhibiter virtually shuts in
shutting its back door. Maelzel, having now rolled the machine
around, lifted up the drapery of the Turk, opened the doors in his
back and thigh, and shown his trunk to be full of machinery, brings
the whole back into its original position, and closes the doors. The
man within is now at liberty to move about. He gets up into the body
of the Turk just so high as to bring his eyes above the level of the
chess-board. It is very probable that he seats himself upon the
little square block or protuberance which is seen in a corner of the
main compartment when the doors are open. In this position he sees
the chess-board through the bosom of the Turk which is of gauze.
Bringing his right arm across his breast he actuates the little
machinery necessary to guide the left arm and the fingers of the
figure. This machinery is situated just beneath the left shoulder of
the Turk, and is consequently easily reached by the right hand of the
man concealed, if we suppose his right arm brought across the breast.
The motions of the head and eyes, and of the right arm of the figure,
as well as the sound _echec _are produced by other mechanism in the
interior, and actuated at will by the man within. The whole of this
mechanism--that is to say all the mechanism essential to the
machine--is most probably contained within the little cupboard (of
about six inches in breadth) partitioned off at the right (the
spectators' right) of the main compartment.
In this analysis of the operations of the Automaton, we have
purposely avoided any allusion to the manner in which the partitions
are shifted, and it will now be readily comprehended that this point
is a matter of no importance, since, by mechanism within the ability
of any common carpenter, it might be effected in an infinity of
different ways, and since we have shown that, however performed, it
is performed out of the view of the spectators. Our result is founded
upon the following _observations _taken during frequent visits to the
exhibition of Maelzel. {*5}
I. The moves of the Turk are not made at regular intervals of time,
but accommodate themselves to the moves of the antagonist--although
this point (of regularity) so important in all kinds of mechanical
contrivance, might have been readily brought about by limiting the
time allowed for the moves of the antagonist. For example, if this
limit were three minutes, the moves of the Automaton might be made at
any given intervals longer than three minutes. The fact then of
irregularity, when regularity might have been so easily attained,
goes to prove that regularity is unimportant to the action of the
Automaton--in other words, that the Automaton is not a _pure
machine._
2. When the Automaton is about to move a piece, a distinct motion is
observable just beneath the left shoulder, and which motion agitates
in a slight degree, the drapery covering the front of the left
shoulder. This motion invariably precedes, by about two seconds, the
movement of the arm itself--and the arm never, in any instance, moves
without this preparatory motion in the shoulder. Now let the
antagonist move a piece, and let the corresponding move be made by
Maelzel, as usual, upon the board of the Automaton. Then let the
antagonist narrowly watch the Automaton, until he detect the
preparatory motion in the shoulder. Immediately upon detecting this
motion, and before the arm itself begins to move, let him withdraw
his piece, as if perceiving an error in his manoeuvre. It will then
be seen that the movement of the arm, which, in all other cases,
immediately succeeds the motion in the shoulder, is withheld--is not
made--although Maelzel has not yet performed, on the board of the
Automaton, any move corresponding to the withdrawal of the
antagonist. In this case, that the Automaton was about to move is
evident--and that he did not move, was an effect plainly produced by
the withdrawal of the antagonist, and without any intervention of
Maelzel.
This fact fully proves, ~--that the intervention of Maelzel, in
performing the moves of the antagonist on the board of the Automaton,
is not essential to the movements of the Automaton, 2--that its
movements are regulated by _mind--_by some person who sees the board
of the antagonist, 3--that its movements are not regulated by the
mind of Maelzel, whose back was turned towards the antagonist at the
withdrawal of his move.
3. The Automaton does not invariably win the game. Were the machine a
pure machine this would not be the case--it would always win. The
_principle _being discovered by which a machine can be made to _play
_a game of chess, an extension of the same principle would enable it
to win a game--a farther extension would enable it to win _all
_games--that is, to beat any possible game of an antagonist. A little
consideration will convince any one that the difficulty of making a
machine beat all games, Is not in the least degree greater, as
regards the principle of the operations necessary, than that of
making it beat a single game. If then we regard the Chess-Player as a
machine, we must suppose, (what is highly improbable,) that its
inventor preferred leaving it incomplete to perfecting it-- a
supposition rendered still more absurd, when we reflect that the
leaving it incomplete would afford an argument against the
possibility of its being a pure machine--the very argument we now
adduce.
4. When the situation of the game is difficult or complex, we never
perceive the Turk either shake his head or roll his eyes. It is only
when his next move is obvious, or when the game is so circumstanced
that to a man in the Automaton's place there would be no necessity
for reflection. Now these peculiar movements of the head and eves are
movements customary with persons engaged in meditation, and the
ingenious Baron Kempelen would have adapted these movements (were the
machine a pure machine) to occasions proper for their display--that
is, to occasions of complexity. But the reverse is seen to be the
case, and this reverse applies precisely to our supposition of a man
in the interior. When engaged in meditation about the game he has no
time to think of setting in motion the mechanism of the Automaton by
which are moved the head and the eyes. When the game, however, is
head shake and the eyes roll.
5. When the machine is rolled round to allow the spectators an
examination of the back of the Turk, and when his drapery is lifted
up and the doors in the trunk and thigh thrown open, the interior of
the trunk is seen to be crowded with machinery. In scrutinizing this
machinery while the Automaton was in motion, that is to say while the
whole machine was moving on the castors, it appeared to us that
certain portions of the mechanism changed their shape and position in
a degree too great to be accounted for by the simple laws of
perspective; and subsequent examinations convinced us that these
undue alterations were attributable to mirrors in the interior of the
trunk. The introduction of mirrors among the machinery could not have
been intended to influence, in any degree, the machinery itself.
Their operation, whatever that operation should prove to be, must
necessarily have reference to the eve of the spectator. We at once
concluded that these mirrors were so placed to multiply to the vision
some few pieces of machinery within the trunk so as to give it the
appearance of being crowded with mechanism. Now the direct inference
from this is that the machine is not a pure machine. For if it were,
the inventor, so far from wishing its mechanism to appear complex,
and using deception for the purpose of giving it this appearance,
would have been especially desirous of convincing those who witnessed
his exhibition, of the _simplicity _of the means by which results so
wonderful were brought about.
6. The external appearance, and, especially, the deportment of the
Turk, are, when we consider them as imitations of _life, _but very
indifferent imitations. The countenance evinces no ingenuity, and is
surpassed, in its resemblance to the human face, by the very
commonest of wax-works. The eyes roll unnaturally in the head,
without any corresponding motions of the lids or brows. The arm,
particularly, performs its operations in an exceedingly stiff,
awkward, jerking, and rectangular manner. Now, all this is the result
either of inability in Maelzel to do better, or of intentional
neglect--accidental neglect being out of the question, when we
consider that the whole time of the ingenious proprietor is occupied
in the improvement of his machines. Most assuredly we must not refer
the unlife-like appearances to inability--for all the rest of
Maelzel's automata are evidence of his full ability to copy the
motions and peculiarities of life with the most wonderful exactitude.
The rope-dancers, for example, are inimitable. When the clown laughs,
his lips, his eyes, his eye-brows, and eyelids--indeed, all the
features of his countenance--are imbued with their appropriate
expressions. In both him and his companion, every gesture is so
entirely easy, and free from the semblance of artificiality, that,
were it not for the diminutiveness of their size, and the fact of
their being passed from one spectator to another previous to their
exhibition on the rope, it would be difficult to convince any
assemblage of persons that these wooden automata were not living
creatures. We cannot, therefore, doubt Mr. Maelzel's ability, and we
must necessarily suppose that he intentionally suffered his Chess
Player to remain the same artificial and unnatural figure which Baron
Kempelen (no doubt also through design) originally made it. What this
design was it is not difficult to conceive. Were the Automaton
life-like in its motions, the spectator would be more apt to
attribute its operations to their true cause, (that is, to human
agency within) than he is now, when the awkward and rectangular
manoeuvres convey the idea of pure and unaided mechanism.
7. When, a short time previous to the commencement of the game, the
Automaton is wound up by the exhibiter as usual, an ear in any degree
accustomed to the sounds produced in winding up a system of
machinery, will not fail to discover, instantaneously, that the axis
turned by the key in the box of the Chess-Player, cannot possibly be
connected with either a weight, a spring, or any system of machinery
whatever. The inference here is the same as in our last observation.
The winding up is inessential to the operations of the Automaton, and
is performed with the design of exciting in the spectators the false
idea of mechanism.
8. When the question is demanded explicitly of Maelzel-- "Is the
Automaton a pure machine or not?" his reply is invariably the
same--"I will say nothing about it." Now the notoriety of the
Automaton, and the great curiosity it has every where excited, are
owing more especially to the prevalent opinion that it is a pure
machine, than to any other circumstance. Of course, then, it is the
interest of the proprietor to represent it as a pure machine. And
what more obvious, and more effectual method could there be of
impressing the spectators with this desired idea, than a positive and
explicit declaration to that effect? On the other hand, what more
obvious and effectual method could there be of exciting a disbelief
in the Automaton's being a pure machine, than by withholding such
explicit declaration? For, people will naturally reason thus,--It is
Maelzel's interest to represent this thing a pure machine--he refuses
to do so, directly, in words, although he does not scruple, and is
evidently anxious to do so, indirectly by actions--were it actually
what he wishes to represent it by actions, he would gladly avail
himself of the more direct testimony of words--the inference is, that
a consciousness of its not being a pure machine, is the reason of his
silence--his actions cannot implicate him in a falsehood--his words
may.
9. When, in exhibiting the interior of the box, Maelzel has thrown
open the door No. I, and also the door immediately behind it, he
holds a lighted candle at the back door (as mentioned above) and
moves the entire machine to and fro with a view of convincing the
company that the cupboard No. 1 is entirely filled with machinery.
When the machine is thus moved about, it will be apparent to any
careful observer, that whereas that portion of the machinery near the
front door No. 1, is perfectly steady and unwavering, the portion
farther within fluctuates, in a very slight degree, with the
movements of the machine. This circumstance first aroused in us the
suspicion that the more remote portion of the machinery was so
Poe, Edgar Allen - The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe Page 142