wonderful things told by later writers of the
power of inventive genius in expending itself
upon trifles. Philip Camuz describes an
extraordinary automaton group that was got
up, regardless, of course, of expense, for the
entertainment of Louis the Fourteenth. It
consisted of a coach and horses—what a
modern coachman would designate "a first-
rate turn-out." Its road was a table; and,
at starting, the coachman smacked his whip,
the horses began to prance; then, subsiding
into a long trot, they continued until the
whole equipage arrived opposite to where
the King sat. They then stopped, a footman
dismounted from the foot-board, opened the
door, and handed out a lady; who, courtesying
gracefully, offered a petition to his Majesty,
and re-entered the carriage. The footman
jumped up behind—all right—the whip
smacked once more; the horses pranced, and
the long trot was resumed.

Some of the stories extant, respecting
musical automata, are no less extraordinary.
D'Alembert gives an account, in the
"Encyclopédie Méthodique" of a gigantic mechanical
Flute-player. It stood on a pedestal, in
which some of the "works" were contained;
and, not only blew into the flute, but, with
its lips, increased or diminished the tones it
forced out of the instrument, performing the
legato and staccato passages to perfection.
The fingering was also quite accurate. This
marvellous Flautist was exhibited in Paris in
1738, and was made by Jacques de Vaucanson,
the prince of automaton contrivers.

Vaucanson laboured under many disadvantages
in constructing this marvellous figure;
among others, that of a sceptic uncle; who, for
some years, laughed him out of his project.
At length, fortune favoured the mechanist
with a severe illness; and he took advantage
of it to contrive the automaton he had so long
dreamt of. This was at Grenoble; and, as
Vaucanson designed each portion of the
figure, he sent it to be made by a separate
workman; that no one should find out the
principle of his invention. As the pieces
came home, he put them together; and,
when the whole was completed, he crawled
out of bed, by the help of a servant who
had been his go-between with the various
operative mechanics, and locked his chamber
door. Trembling with anxiety, he wound up
the works. At the first sound emitted from
the flute, the servant fell on his knees, and
began to worship his master as somebody
more than mortal. They both embraced each
other, and wept with joy to the tune which
the figure was merrily playing.

None of Vaucanson's imitators have been
able to accomplish the organisation by which
his figure modified the tones, by the action of
the lips; although several flute-playing
puppets have since been made. About forty
years ago there was an exhibition in London,
of two mechanical figures, of the size of life,
which performed duets. Incredulous visitors
were in the habit of placing their fingers on
the holes of the flutes, in order to convince
themselves that the puppets really supplied
the wind, which caused the flutes to discourse
such excellent music.

A full orchestra of clock-work musicians
is quite possible. Maelzel, the inventor of
the Metronome, opened an exhibition in
Vienna, in 1809, in which an automaton
Trumpeter as large as life, performed with
surprising accuracy and power. The audience
first saw, on entering the room, a tent.
Presently the curtains opened, and Maelzel
appeared leading forward the trumpeter, attired
in full regimentals of an Austrian dragoon.
He then pressed the left epaulet of the figure,
and it began to sound, not only all the cavalry
calls then in use for directing the evolutions
of the Austrian cavalry, but to play a march,
and an allegro by Weigl, which was
accompanied by a full band of living musicians.
The figure then retired; and, in a few
minutes, reappeared in the dress of a
trumpeter of the French guard. The inventor
wound it up on the left hip; another touch
on the left shoulder, and forth came from
the trumpet, in succession, all the French
cavalry calls, the French cavalry march, a
march by Dussek, and one of Pleyel's allegros;
again accompanied by the orchestra.
In the Journal des Modes, whence this account
is derived, it is declared that the tones
produced by Maelzel's automaton were even
fuller and richer than those got out of a
trumpet by human lungs and lips; because a
man's breath imparts to the inside of the
instrument a moisture which deteriorates the
quality of the tone.

Vaucanson has, however, never been outdone;
after his Flautist, he produced a figure
which accompanied a flageolet played with one
hand, with a tambourine struck with the
other. But his most wonderful achievements
were in imitating animals. His duck became
a wonder of the world. He simulated nature
in the minutest point. Every bone, every
fibre, every organ, were so accurately
constructed and fitted, that the mechanism
waddled about in search of grain; and, when
it found some, picked it up with its bill and
swallowed it. "This grain" (we quote from
the Biographie Universelle) "produced in the
stomach a species of trituration, which caused
it to pass into the intestines, and to perform
all the functions of digestion." The wonderful
duck was not to be distinguished from
any live duck. It muddied the water with
its beak, drank, and quacked to the life.
From men and ducks Vaucanson descended
to insects. When Marrnontel brought out
his tragedy of "Cleopatra," Vaucanson
obliged the author with a mechanical Aspic,
in order that the heroine might be stung with
the closest imitation of nature. At the
proper moment the insect darted forth from
the side-scenes, and settled upon the actress,
hissing all the while. A wit, on being asked