Poe, Edgar Allen - The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe

by Volume 01-05 (lit)

  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
r />   obvious, he has time to look about hirn, and, accordingly, we see the

  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