From no particular
      disposition of the men at one period of a game can we predicate
      their disposition at a different period. Let us place the _first
      move _in a game of chess, in juxta-position with the _data _of an
      algebraical question, and their great difference will be
      immediately perceived. From the latter—from the _data—_the second
      step of the question, dependent thereupon, inevitably follows. It
      is modelled by the _data. _It must be _thus _and not otherwise. But from the first move in the game of chess no especial second
      move follows of necessity. In the algebraical question, as it
      proceeds towards solution, the _certainty _of its operations
      remains altogether unimpaired. The second step having been a
      consequence of the _data, _the third step is equally a
      consequence of the second, the fourth of the third, the fifth of
      the fourth, and so on, _and not possibly otherwise, _to the end. But in proportion to the progress made in a game of chess, is the
      _uncertainty _of each ensuing move. A few moves having been made,
      _no _step is certain. Different spectators of the game would
      advise different moves. All is then dependent upon the variable
      judgment of the players. Now even granting (what should not be
      granted) that the movements of the Automaton Chess-Player were in
      themselves determinate, they would be necessarily interrupted and
      disarranged by the indeterminate will of his antagonist. There is
      then no analogy whatever between the operations of the
      Chess-Player, and those of the calculating machine of Mr.
      Babbage, and if we choose to call the former a _pure machine _we
      must be prepared to admit that it is, beyond all comparison, the
      most wonderful of the inventions of mankind. Its original
      projector, however, Baron Kempelen, had no scruple in declaring
      it to be a “very ordinary piece of mechanism—a _bagatelle _whose
      effects appeared so marvellous only from the boldness of the
      conception, and the fortunate choice of the methods adopted for
      promoting the illusion.” But it is needless to dwell upon this
      point. It is quite certain that the operations of the Automaton
      are regulated by _mind, _and by nothing else. Indeed this matter
      is susceptible of a mathematical demonstration, _a priori. _The
      only question then is of the _manner _in which human agency is
      brought to bear. Before entering upon this subject it would be as
      well to give a brief history and description of the Chess-Player
      for the benefit of such of our readers as may never have had an
      opportunity of witnessing Mr. Maelzel’s exhibition. The Automaton Chess-Player was invented in 1769, by Baron
      Kempelen, a nobleman of Presburg, in Hungary, who afterwards
      disposed of it, together with the secret of its operations, to
      its present possessor. {2*} Soon after its completion it was
      exhibited in Presburg, Paris, Vienna, and other continental
      cities. In 1783 and 1784, it was taken to London by Mr. Maelzel. Of late years it has visited the principal towns in the United
      States. Wherever seen, the most intense curiosity was excited by
      its appearance, and numerous have been the attempts, by men of
      all classes, to fathom the mystery of its evolutions. The cut on
      this page gives a tolerable representation of the figure as seen
      by the citizens of Richmond a few weeks ago. The right arm,
      however, should lie more at length upon the box, a chess-board
      should appear upon it, and the cushion should not be seen while
      the pipe is held. Some immaterial alterations have been made in
      the costume of the player since it came into the possession of
      Maelzel—the plume, for example, was not originally worn. {image
      of automaton}

      At the hour appointed for exhibition, a curtain is withdrawn, or
      folding doors are thrown open, and the machine rolled to within
      about twelve feet of the nearest of the spectators, between whom
      and it (the machine) a rope is stretched. A figure is seen
      habited as a Turk, and seated, with its legs crossed, at a large
      box apparently of maple wood, which serves it as a table. The
      exhibiter will, if requested, roll the machine to any portion of
      the room, suffer it to remain altogether on any designated spot,
      or even shift its location repeatedly during the progress of a
      game. The bottom of the box is elevated considerably above the
      floor by means of the castors or brazen rollers on which it
      moves, a clear view of the surface immediately beneath the
      Automaton being thus afforded to the spectators. The chair on
      which the figure sits is affixed permanently to the box. On the
      top of this latter is a chess-board, also permanently affixed. The right arm of the Chess-Player is extended at full length
      before him, at right angles with his body, and lying, in an
      apparently careless position, by the side of the board. The back
      of the hand is upwards. The board itself is eighteen inches
      square. The left arm of the figure is bent at the elbow, and in
      the left hand is a pipe. A green drapery conceals the back of the
      Turk, and falls partially over the front of both shoulders. To
      judge from the external appearance of the box, it is divided into
      five compartments—three cupboards of equal dimensions, and two
      drawers occupying that portion of the chest lying beneath the
      cupboards. The foregoing observations apply to the appearance of
      the Automaton upon its first introduction into the presence of
      the spectators. Maelzel now informs the company that he will disclose to their
      view the mechanism of the machine. Taking from his pocket a bunch
      of keys he unlocks with one of them, door marked ~ in the cut
      above, and throws the cupboard fully open to the inspection of
      all present. Its whole interior is apparently filled with wheels,
      pinions, levers, and other machinery, crowded very closely
      together, so that the eye can penetrate but a little distance
      into the mass. Leaving this door open to its full extent, he goes
      now round to the back of the box, and raising the drapery of the
      figure, opens another door situated precisely in the rear of the
      one first opened. Holding a lighted candle at this door, and
      shifting the position of the whole machine repeatedly at the same
      time, a bright light is thrown entirely through the cupboard,
      which is now clearly seen to be full, completely full, of
      machinery. The spectators being satisfied of this fact, Maelzel
      closes the back door, locks it, takes the key from the lock, lets
      fall the drapery of the figure, and comes round to the front.