Automata Old and New

In Short

This book is a transcript of a lecture delivered to a private London society of bibliophiles and scholars known as the "Sette of Odd Volumes." It serves as a historical catalog of automata—mechanical devices designed to imitate living beings—ranging from the legendary inventions of antiquity to the mass-produced wind-up toys of the nineteenth century. By blending technical observation with a deep appreciation for human ingenuity, the text documents the persistence of the desire to build artificial life, securing its place as an essential record of Victorian mechanical fascination.

The Story

The narrative begins in the distant past, where the author examines the blurred line between myth and early engineering. He explores accounts of devices attributed to figures like Archytas, whose "hidden and inclosed air" suggests the earliest concepts of buoyancy and flight. Moving into the surer territory of the Hellenistic period, the focus shifts to Hero of Alexandria, a mechanical genius whose work—long before the modern era—included siphons, fire engines, and even the world’s first "penny-in-the-slot" machine. The author emphasizes that these foundations were often misunderstood or lazily plagiarized by later writers, such as John Bate, whose 1635 attempt to copy Hero’s temple door mechanism resulted in an impossible, non-functional design.

As the history progresses into the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, the tone shifts to the intersection of clockwork and spectacle. We encounter the elaborate water clocks presented to Charlemagne and the controversial experiments of figures like Albertus Magnus, whose talking brass head led to accusations of sorcery. The narrative then expands to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, highlighting the work of Janellus Turrianus and the famous astronomical clock at Strasbourg, where mechanical figures—including the personification of Death—perform precise, repetitive duties. The author notes that this era was marked by a blend of genuine engineering progress and the tall tales of observers who may have overestimated the complexity of these early contraptions.

The eighteenth century marks the zenith of the automaton, with the author focusing on the master craftsmen of the period. He recounts the ingenious flute-playing and duck-digesting machines of Vaucanson, alongside the sophisticated bird-enclosed snuffboxes of the Le Droz family. A central, dramatic turn in the text occurs with the exposure of Baron von Kempelen’s famous chess-playing Turk. Rather than a pure machine, the author reveals the grim reality: a human amputee, hidden within the device, provided the intelligence that tricked the world’s elite, including the Empress Catherine II.

The final arc of the book transitions from the grand, mysterious machines of the past to the accessible, mass-market toys of the author’s own time. He highlights the sudden explosion of small mechanical figures—swimming fish, strutting ostriches, and circus performers—that rely on vulcanized rubber and clever cam-based gearing to achieve lifelike motion at a trivial cost. The lecture concludes with a nod to the enduring human wonder inspired by these devices, noting that while the technology has shifted from heavy brass to light rubber and springs, the fundamental impulse to enchant an audience through mechanical artifice remains unchanged.

How It Unfolds

The foundations of ingenuity The author establishes the scope of his inquiry by looking back to the legends of ancient Greece and the tangible, recorded innovations of Hero of Alexandria. He distinguishes between the likely exaggerations of early myth and the actual mechanical principles that Hero documented in his treatises.

The era of plagiarism and curiosity By examining seventeenth-century texts, the narrative identifies how early mechanical concepts were often misunderstood by subsequent authors. These chapters reveal the errors that plagued those who attempted to replicate ancient designs without fully grasping their original purpose.

The age of the mechanical spectacle The middle section chronicles the rise of the clockwork master, focusing on the integration of moving figures into public timepieces and private royal commissions. The author critiques these developments, separating the true achievements of skilled horologists from the anecdotal, often exaggerated, reports of their contemporaries.

The truth behind the artifice The text pivots toward the eighteenth-century masters, ultimately pulling back the curtain on the most famous illusions of the day. By exposing the human operator behind the chess-playing Turk, the author anchors his historical survey in a grounded, skeptical reality.

The modern era of the toy The final movement examines the democratization of automata through the lens of late-Victorian commercial production. The author demonstrates how simple, inexpensive materials replaced the complex craftsmanship of the past to create a new, widespread fascination with mechanical movement.

The People

The central figure is the author himself, the "Mechanick" to the Sette of Odd Volumes, who acts as both a scholar and a collector. He seeks to preserve the history of mechanical ingenuity while gently debunking the myths surrounding it. His primary obstacle is the scarcity of reliable documentation for ancient devices and the tendency of history to confuse genuine talent with magical folklore.

Hero of Alexandria stands out as the historical anchor, a man of profound foresight whose inventions—from steam engines to slot machines—were consistently undervalued by later imitators. In contrast, the Baron von Kempelen represents the showman; he is driven by the necessity of survival and the pressure of royal expectation, ultimately creating a fraud that remains one of history’s most celebrated illusions.

The reader also encounters the "Sette," the audience of learned peers to whom this lecture is addressed. They serve as the sounding board for the author’s research, holding him to a standard of precision while sharing in his wonder. Finally, the anonymous inventors of the modern toy industry appear as the book’s silent heroes; they are individuals whose names are mostly lost to time, yet whose ability to mass-produce complex, delightful movement at a "penny" price point represents a true triumph of nineteenth-century engineering and design.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the necessity of the author’s own presence in operating the famous chess-playing automaton:

He declared that his own presence was absolutely necessary for the working of the machine, and that it was quite impossible for him to sell it, and, after some further discussion, he was allowed to proceed on his journey.

Regarding the surprising longevity of a specific mechanical trick:

It will, I think, be of interest to him and to you to know that this device was invented nearly 2,000 years before Robert-Houdin was born.

Regarding the simple ingenuity of modern mass-produced toys:

I think, even more than the extraordinarily simple and ingenious contrivances by which the various effects are produced, the great inventive merit consists in a design and method of manufacture by which they can be turned out, with a profit, at so insignificant a cost.

What It's Really About

The book is a study of the human impulse to replicate life. It argues that the history of automata is not merely a record of machines, but a record of the evolution of human observation and skepticism. By tracing the progression from ancient, near-mythical devices to the ubiquitous spring-loaded toys of the 1890s, the author explores the tension between the desire to be deceived by a "living" machine and the scientific curiosity required to understand the gears underneath. It is a meditation on the fact that as our mechanical capabilities grow, the "magic" of the automaton shifts from the incomprehensible to the accessible, yet our fundamental delight in a machine that moves like an animal or a human remains constant.

Why Read It Today

This book is a gem for those who enjoy the intersection of engineering history and the history of illusion. Reading it feels like sitting in a quiet, wood-paneled room in 1891, listening to a polymath share his private collection of notes and curiosities. The author’s voice is warm, conversational, and meticulously fair, especially when he corrects his predecessors or laments the destruction of a lost masterpiece.

Modern readers should be prepared for the dense, scholarly prose of the nineteenth century and the occasional assumption of shared knowledge among the author’s "Odd" peers. The text is not a fast-paced thriller, but a deliberate, lecture-style exploration that expects the reader to pause and look at the descriptions of the gears and levers. You will not find modern technical diagrams, but rather a vivid, textual recreation of devices that have long since vanished. If you have an interest in the "pre-history" of robotics, or simply appreciate the charm of a collector sharing a lifelong fascination with the mechanics of wonder, this book offers a unique, intimate window into a bygone obsession. What stays with you is the author's ability to humanize the history of cold metal; he reminds us that behind every brass gear and rubber spring, there is a person striving to turn the inanimate into something that breathes, walks, and plays.