Among
      these may be mentioned, as having beyond doubt existed, firstly,
      the coach invented by M. Camus for the amusement of Louis XIV
      when a child. A table, about four feet square, was introduced,
      into the room appropriated for the exhibition. Upon this table
      was placed a carriage, six inches in length, made of wood, and
      drawn by two horses of the same material. One window being down,
      a lady was seen on the back seat. A coachman held the reins on
      the box, and a footman and page were in their places behind. M.
      Camus now touched a spring; whereupon the coachman smacked his
      whip, and the horses proceeded in a natural manner, along the
      edge of the table, drawing after them the carriage. Having gone
      as far as possible in this direction, a sudden turn was made to
      the left, and the vehicle was driven at right angles to its
      former course, and still closely along the edge of the table. In
      this way the coach proceeded until it arrived opposite the chair
      of the young prince. It then stopped, the page descended and
      opened the door, the lady alighted, and presented a petition to
      her sovereign. She then re-entered. The page put up the steps,
      closed the door, and resumed his station. The coachman whipped
      his horses, and the carriage was driven back to its original
      position. The magician of M. Maillardet is also worthy of notice. We copy
      the following account of it from the _Letters_ before mentioned
      of Dr. B., who derived his information principally from the
      Edinburgh Encyclopaedia. “One of the most popular pieces of mechanism which we have seen,
      Is the Magician constructed by M. Maillardet, for the purpose of
      answering certain given questions. A figure, dressed like a
      magician, appears seated at the bottom of a wall, holding a wand
      in one hand, and a book in the other A number of questions, ready
      prepared, are inscribed on oval medallions, and the spectator
      takes any of these he chooses and to which he wishes an answer,
      and having placed it in a drawer ready to receive it, the drawer
      shuts with a spring till the answer is returned. The magician
      then arises from his seat, bows his head, describes circles with
      his wand, and consulting the book as If in deep thought, he lifts
      it towards his face. Having thus appeared to ponder over the
      proposed question he raises his wand, and striking with it the
      wall above his head, two folding doors fly open, and display an
      appropriate answer to the question. The doors again close, the
      magician resumes his original position, and the drawer opens to
      return the medallion. There are twenty of these medallions, all
      containing different questions, to which the magician returns the
      most suitable and striking answers. The medallions are thin
      plates of brass, of an elliptical form, exactly resembling each
      other. Some of the medallions have a question inscribed on each
      side, both of which the magician answered in succession. If the
      drawer is shut without a medallion being put into it, the
      magician rises, consults his book, shakes his head, and resumes
      his seat. The folding doors remain shut, and the drawer is
      returned empty. If two medallions are put into the drawer
      together, an answer is returned only to the lower one. When the
      machinery is wound up, the movements continue about an hour,
      during which time about fifty questions may be answered. The
      inventor stated that the means by which the different medallions
      acted upon the machinery, so as to produce the proper answers to
      the questions which they contained, were extremely simple.”

      The duck of Vaucanson was still more remarkable. It was _of _the
      size of life, and so perfect an imitation of the living animal
      that all the spectators were deceived. It executed, says
      Brewster, all the natural movements and gestures, it ate and
      drank with avidity, performed all the quick motions of the head
      and throat which are peculiar to the duck, and like 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 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, swallowed, and digested it. {*1}

      But if these machines were ingenious, what shall we think of the
      calculating machine of Mr. Babbage? What shall we think of an
      engine of wood and metal which can not only compute astronomical
      and navigation tables to any given extent, but render the
      exactitude of its operations mathematically certain through its
      power of correcting its possible errors? What shall we think of a
      machine which can not only accomplish all this, but actually
      print off its elaborate results, when obtained, without the
      slightest intervention of the intellect of man? It will, perhaps,
      be said, in reply, that a machine such as we have described is
      altogether above comparison with the Chess-Player of Maelzel. By
      no means—it is altogether beneath it—that is to say provided we
      assume (what should never for a moment be assumed) that the
      Chess-Player is a _pure machine, _and performs its operations
      without any immediate human agency. Arithmetical or algebraical
      calculations are, from their very nature, fixed and determinate. Certain _data _being given, certain results necessarily and
      inevitably follow. These results have dependence upon nothing,
      and are influenced by nothing but the _data _originally given. And the question to be solved proceeds, or should proceed, to its
      final determination, by a succession of unerring steps liable to
      no change, and subject to no modification. This being the case,
      we can without difficulty conceive the _possibility _of so
      arranging a piece of mechanism, that upon starting In accordance
      with the _data _of the question to be solved, it should continue
      its movements regularly, progressively, and undeviatingly towards
      the required solution, since these movements, however complex,
      are never imagined to be otherwise than finite and determinate. But the case is widely different with the Chess-Player. With him
      there is no determinate progression. No one move in chess
      necessarily follows upon any one other.