Continuing the narrative that began here.

Part 23.

–

Letter the Twenty- Ninth: Miss Honoria Wells to Miss Amelia Purvis.

 

 

Dearest Amelia,——

 

Your Letter was at once a Consolation to me, and a Source of new Worries and Fears. That you have had no more Correspondence from George than I, shews at least that I have no Reason to suppose his Love for me abated: But O! my Heart, liberated from one Fear, straightway makes itself Slave to another, and I imagine Things infinitely worse! How well I know that other Heroines have imagined such Things, only to find the truth surpassing their worst Fears. Was not the illustrious Izalla warned of the capture of her Albertino by a premonitory Vision? Did not a wondrously loquacious Jack-daw bring news of her Angelo’s mortal Wound to the ever-suffering Elizabetta? Nay, did not the accurate Pen of M. de Scudery himself record the extraordinary Signs that attended upon the Death of Aziz?—Signs which, marvellous to tell, the sagacious Zalmanara correctly interpreted, whereupon she fainted dead away.

I tell you candidly, my dear Amelia, that I have seen certain Signs or Wonders in these past Days, such as an ordinary Mind might pass over, but one so well educated in the Histories of illustrious Women as you or I cannot but interpret as evil Omens. Yesterday in the Morning a great Bird was seen soaring in circular Evolutions over the House; I am certain it was much larger than a common Hawk. Later in the same Day, a powerful Storm blew for the better Part of an Hour. This morning Mother left her Chamber to walk in the Garden, which is the most extraordinary sign of all.

Now what I am about to tell you will cause you to doubt my Sanity; but I shall tell you in any Event, trusting in your own feminine Heart to tell you to what Extremities a Woman can be driven if the Man she loves is in danger. I have determined that, if George should not be heard from within the Week, I shall travel to Grimthorne myself, without the Consent or Permission, or even the Knowledge, of my Mother and Father. How I have longed to leave this place! And now, with my beloved George captured and impressed in a Turkish Galley, I have no Reason to stay, and every Reason Love can muster to fly to his Side.

Farewell, my dear Sister; you alone, among all Mankind, are privy to my Plans. Pray do not betray the Trust I have placed in you: For I remain,

 

your faithful Friend and Sister,

Honoria.

–

Continue to Part 24.

 

 

Continuing the narrative that began here.

Part 22.

–

Letter the Twenty-Eighth: Sir George Purvis to Miss Amelia Purvis.

My dear Sister,——

If Misery attended always upon Triumph, as it has been with me, Wars would cease, and the race of Generals would be extinguished. There is no Glory in Glory, no Pleasure in Fame, when the Glory is undeserved, and the Fame may soon turn to Ignominy.

The late Exhibit of the Automaton at my Chambers has been a Triumph in every ordinary Sense: For the Number and Quality of the Guests made me the Envy of London, and surely the favorable Impression, which I have made, merely by my Association with the eminent Doctor Albertus, would do me some Good in Society, were it not that I ever fear (and with what Cause you know well) that the Favor may momentarily turn to Contempt, and my Reputation, now at its Height, may be plunged into the Abyss of Infamy.

I need only name some of the Guests, to make my Point. Sir William Tharke, on whom Cheswick himself is said to rely for his sagacious Interpretation of Events in France, came with Lady Tharke, and declared himself honored to make my acquaintance; the which would, in ordinary Times, have been the highest Degree of Flattery to which I could aspire. The Earl of Crawleigh, whom I have met only once previously, declared, That neither his Age nor his Infirmity (for he suffers much with the Gout) would stand in the Way of his attending my Soirée, and called me an old Friend, whose Acquaintance he valued much. TheSpanish Ambassador, who speaks our Language very well, informed me that, should I make it my Business to travel in Spain, I must of course spend my time there at his Villa in Sevil, where (it came out in the Conversation in some Manner) he had a Daughter yet unmarry’d, whose black Eyes, raven Hair, and alabaster Complexion, made her the reigning Beauty of that happy City.

When the Guests had departed, Doctor Albertus professed himself much pleased with the Evening; and he was right to be pleased, for he had in Hand no fewer than a Dozen Orders for Clockworks. We had Conversation far into the Night, and a Month ago I should have recorded every Word that dropped from his Lips; but I confess now, what I never thought before: That Doctor Albertus, whose Deceits are no Deceits, and whose Fraud serves only Truth, is in many Ways a low-bred Fellow, whose vast Erudition cannot conceal his humble Origins. He has a peculiar Way of pulling at his Beard while he talks, as tho’ he paid more Regard to the Beard than to his Interlocutor; indeed, this vast Beard of his occupies much of his Attention, nor is there anything pleasant in the Sight of a Man sifting his Beard for an Hour at a time, as tho’ he hoped to find Rubies and Gold in it.

Yet I cannot dismiss Doctor Albertus from my Presence, or even from my Thoughts. He spoke with good Reason when he said, That my Reputation was as much involved as his in the public Acceptance of the Automaton; and he knows how I depend upon him now, so that verily I must accept his Decisions as just, and his Pronouncements as true, if I am to keep any Reputation at all in the World. Without the Automaton, he is nothing; but without Doctor Albertus and his Automaton, I am less than nothing. I am his Prisoner: for tho’ he has Lodgings of his own, he spends more of his Days here; and when he retreats to his own Rooms, he implores me to accompany him with such Force of Persuasion, that I know not how to resist.

On the Morrow we depart for Grimthorne once more: For Doctor Albertus has Orders enough to keep him building for more than a Month, and he earnestly desires me to accompany him there. I know not how to refuse him. Indeed I know not whether I dare refuse him.

Pray convey my Greetings to our cousin Honoria, and assure her that my Regard for her is undiminished, &c. I shall write next from Grimthorne; until then,

I remain, &c.

–

Continue to Part 23.

Continuing the narrative that began here.

Part 21.

–

The Interlocutor,

No. 116.

–

A CERTAIN GENTLEMAN called t’other Night, whose sprightly Conversation forms one of the Interlocutor’s chief Delights; and from whom (there is no Shame in confessing it, but rather the natural and laudable Pride of good Taste) many of the Interlocutor’s choicest Observations have had their Origin. On this Occasion, however, the Silence that hung o’er the Chamber defy’d every Attempt at dispelling it: until at last the Interlocutor, who hates a wasted Evening, resolved to run the Blockade, and spoke candidly to his Guest, representing to him the Gulph betwixt his wonted Gaiety, and his present Taciturnity.

“Ah! my Friend!” he exclaimed with a sudden Access of Passion, “there is no more Gaiety in me, and indeed Silence is the only State congenial to my troubled Mind; nor have I true Silence even when all about is still, for then my own Soul fills the Void, and furnishes a thousand vexing Thoughts.”

At this sudden Ecphonesis, so uncharacteristic of his Friend, the Interlocutor was moved to Pity, and urged the Visitor to reveal his Trouble, arguing, “That the Burden which is shared, weighs only half as much as the Burden borne alone.”

The Fortress did not fall on the first Attack; but after a long Siege, the Wall was breach’d, and (to abandon the Metaphor, which shewed Promise at the Beginning, but like a dissolute Son has disappointed its Father) the Visitor opened his Mouth and his Mind at once; nor did the Mouth once close, until the Mind had all been poured through it.

“You see before you (quoth he) a Man, or what remains of a Man, when once the cruel Caprice of an envious Destiny has robbed him of all that makes a Man worthy of the Name; a Man, I say, who hardly partakes of the nature of Man, and who would be fortunate to be numbered among the Beasts; nay, to dwell within the Vegetable Kingdom would be preferable to my current State.”

“But what can it be that troubles you so?” asked the Interlocutor. “If it be a Matter of a few Pounds, know that you may always rely on the Generosity of Friends, with whom you have been more than equally generous when the Occasion warranted it.”

“’Tis not Money,” quoth he, “for I would gladly give a thousand Pounds to be free of my Trouble; but it is a Disease of the Soul, for which there is no Remedy, but Death, or Endurance; and I have neither the Strength to endure, nor the Courage to die.”

“A Woman, then: Which is not greatly to be wondered at, as you are yet in the full Flower of your Vigor. You love, and she returns not your Love. But consider, how often the Heart that seemed unyielding, has been vanquished by Persistence; and consider further, that you are a young Man of Parts, with an Income greatly to be envy’d, a pleasing Countenance, and a good Reputation. Gird yourself for a long Campaign, and tho’ this Battle be lost, the War may yet be won.”

“Love, yea, Love it is, and Love not returned; but the Circumstances admit of no such Hope as you offer. The Object of my Love—beauteous transcending Beauty—returns not my Love, because she cannot return my Love.”

“A married Woman, then. I admire your Virtue and Purity, in supposing that a married Woman must forever be beyond your Reach: For it is not the common Assumption, among the Men of our Time.”

“Ah, my Friend! your Praise is ill deserved. I love, what I cannot love—what I cannot even speak of—O ye Gods of Love! I love—I love—a Machine!”

Here, dear Reader, let us draw a Curtain over the Remainder of this Conversation, which the Interlocutor offers as a cautionary Example to all young Men, to beware the Snares of that Race of Mechanicall Delilah’s, which has lately invaded our Metropolis.

–

Continue to Part 22.

(Continuing the narrative that began here.)

Part 20.

–

Letter the Twenty-Fifth: Sir George Purvis to Miss Amelia Purvis.

My dearest Sister,——

Truth is Falsehood, and Falsehood is Truth; I live in a World turned upside down. I know not whether my Courage has failed me, or whether Philosophy has conquered; whether I lie, or whether I serve only Truth. I have not exposed Doctor Albertus; I have not so much as left Grimthorne, and live as the willing Guest of the eminent Philosopher, tho’ I could just as well call myself his Prisoner. But no iron Bars prevent my Escape; I am a Prisoner of his Perswasion alone. For when he speaks, I am perswaded; ’tis only afterward, when I sit alone, that my Doubts revive. Am I not of all Men the most miserable? For I might be honest, and happy; or I might lie, and know myself a Liar; but in very Truth I do not know whether I am the one or t’other.

As there is no other Guest in the House, there has been no Reason for the false Automaton to appear; Miss Fanny Smith, the Cockney Seamstress, has dined with us in her own proper Person, tho’ she might be a thousand Leagues away, so little does she contribute to the Conversation. ’Tis very plain, That she has no Mind for Philosophy, and no Interest in it. When she does speak, it is but a few Syllables. She differs in every Respect from what I imagined her to be. The Fault is mine, not hers; yet I cannot but look on her with Contempt, when I recollect that I believed her a pure Soul, singular and unexampled, and have found her, not merely a Sinner, but a common one.

Now Doctor Albertus speaks of returning to the Metropolis, and resuming the Demonstrations by which he introduced the Automaton to me, and to the best Families in London; he speaks, moreover, as tho’ he expects as a Matter of Course that I shall stand by, and say nothing; indeed, that I shall encourage my Friends to attend these Demonstrations: For, he says, the Futurity of the coming Race of Machines depends upon his Success in completing and perfecting the true Automaton; and the false is the Ambassador for the true, speaking (so says the Doctor) as a Species of Prophet for his mechanicall Creation, and declaring Truth to the People in Similitudes, as the Prophets of Israel were wont to do.

My Mind is overwhelmed with the Strain of holding these contradictory Notions. The False is the True; that is the Burden of the Doctor’s Song; and I am such a miserable Creature, that I do verily believe him half the Time. In a Word, I am no longer myself; and yet

I remain, &c.

–

Letter the Twenty-Seventh: Miss Fanny Smith to Mrs. Molly Carter.

Dear Molly,——

O it is Madness: I am every Nite with him, and I cant Speek. If he wood Look at me I wood Speek, Or I mite Feinte with Terrer. I think he is a Duke or a Lord. Why shood he take Notis of me? But he onely knows my Secrit, beesides the Doctor. Send me a Leter, and say what I shood due.

Yrs, Fanny

–

Continue to Part 21.

(Continuing the narrative that began here.)

Part 19.

–

Letter the Twenty-Fifth: Sir George Purvis to Miss Amelia Purvis.

My dearest Sister,——

I have seen such Wonders, as I know not how to describe; I have been to the infernall Regions, and have touched a Demon. If my Words seem disjointed, and the Sense opaque, I beg your Indulgence.

The Dawn had scarce broken over the blasted Moors around Grimthorne, when Doctor Albertus appeared at my Door with a Torch, where I awaited him, dressed and waiting, having slept not a moment since I left him.

“Ah! Sir George,” he greeted me, “thou art prepared for the Journey. I say, a Journey, for thou shalt travel, not in Distance, but in Time; thou shalt depart the World which we inhabit, and enter the World of our Children’s Children.”

“Show me what you have to show me,” I reply’d, “for I have granted you that much, tho’ unwillingly.”

“If thou wilt come with me, then, I promise to change, by a most wonderfull Metamorphosis, thine Unwillingness to Delight, and thy Doubt to Conviction.”

I made no Reply, but followed him in Silence; we proceeded through the House, to a Door, and from there out into the cold and miserable Air, the Torch still blazing, tho’ ’twas as near to Daylight without as Grimthorne comes. Here were the Ruins of the great Abbey Church, which once stood next to the Abbey, and whose Tower was visible a League across the barren Country. Skirting the Edge of the Ruins, we walked along one Wall, where a fine Pathway of Stone had been laid but recently. The Ground sloped gently, so that as we approached the Tower, we had reached the Depth of the Foundation.

The Pathway came to an end at an antient Doorway beneath the Tower. It was a great pointed Arch, with the Splinters of an antique Door lying on the Ground some Distance away, as tho’ some mighty Giant had escaped from his Dungeon. Within all was Darkness, but Doctor Albertus walked in with an air of easy Familiarity with the Place. With his Torch he lit another on the Wall, and another after that; and in the dim Light I could see that we were in the Crypt of the Abbey Church. Gothick Tombs, with grotesque Statues, lay here and there, and on the Walls more Memorials, with Inscriptions in barbarous Latin.

As the Doctor lit more Torches, the Light grew brighter, and I could see at the far End of the vast Space, such a collection of Clockworks, Gears, and Tools, as must be the Envy of every Clockmaker in Europe.

“Here,” quoth Doctor Albertus, and his Voice echo’d in the great Chamber,—”Here I create mine own World of mechanicall Creatures: Tho’ without I am but a Man, within this Place I am a God.”

“’Tis a distasteful Comparison,” I reply’d: For I had not forgiven him for his Deception.

“And thou, Sir George,” he said (passing over my Remark), “thou alone hast seen it. Here I fashion those Toys, by the Sale of which I support mine Endeavors in more important Fields. Behold, Sir George,—behold the Eidos or Form, of which our Mistress Fanny Smith is but the visible Shadow.”

He indicated a large Object against the far Wall. My Mind could not at once form an Impression of what my Senses perceived. I beheld an upright Chest or Box of dark Wood, the Height perhaps eight or nine Feet; the Surface of which was so much crusted over with Gears, Levers, and other Protuberances, that the Form and Shape of the Object was obscured: I supposed for the Moment that I might be standing before some small Chamber, such as that Camera Obscura favored by certain Painters.

But what was my Horror, you may well imagine, when the Box or Chamber sent forth a Volley of the most appalling Noises, and began slowly to approach me, rolling on invisible Wheels. At once I recognized the Sound: For it was the strange and terrifying Noise I had heard in the Middle of the Night, when I first came to Grimthorne.

“Sir George (quoth Doctor Albertus), I present the Automaton.”

His Basso Profundo was easily able to penetrate the horrid Din, but I do not believe that I could have made my own Voice heard: Which Experiment I did not attempt, for the dreadfull clockwork Monstrosity still approached, and my natural Fear deprived me of the Power of Speech. Without any conscious Will, I began to move away, but the Monster turned and continued its Approach.

“Be not alarmed (quoth Doctor Albertus); she senses thy Presence, and wishes to make thine Acquaintance. She will not harm thee, tho’ ‘twould be nothing to her if she wished to harm thee. She has Power, but tempered by Gentleness. Stand thou there; she will greet thee.”

Indeed I did stand there: I should like to tell you that I summoned every Particle of my Courage, but in very Truth I believe I was rooted to the Spot, and in a Manner of Speaking astonished or petrified with Fear. The monstrous Clockwork, whirring and clacking and hissing like a hundred Serpents, came ever closer, until at last it came to rest with one of its multifarious Protuberances just touching my Chest. As soon as it touched me, a Bell somewhere inside the Monster rang twice.

Doctor Albertus laughed a bellowing Laugh. “She greets thee, Sir George, and ’twould be only proper Manners for thee to say how-d’ye-do in Return.”

“How do you do?” I asked; and my Voice betrayed me, so that I seemed to bleat like a Sheep. Doctor Albertus laughed once more.

“Ah, Sir George (quoth he), thou knowest now the Secret I have kept from the World, and now moreover thou seest that I am not quite the Fraud thou didst suppose me to be.”

He clapped thrice, and the Automaton began to move away from me along the same Course, returning to its former Position.

“Our Mistress Smith (he continued) is but the visible Symbol or Representative of the true Automaton, which thou seest here. I believe I have judged aright in supposing that the Publick would not be ready to make the Acquaintance of the true Automaton, which might inspire Terror where Mistress Smith inspires—shall I say Love? As the visible Automaton, our beautiful young Lady is not perpetrating a Falsehood; instead, she presents the Truth of the Automaton in symbolick Form, so that the ordinary Mind may the more readily comprehend it. But thou, Sir George, thou alone of all Humanity, thou hast seen the World to Come: For it is such Machines as this, which shall rule in that happy Time. The humane Form, which we regard as essential to the Intelligence of a Being, is, to speak in Aristotelian Terms, an Accident, or incidental Quality. Machines are made in such Forms as most befit their severall Functions; and here you behold my Automaton configured, not to imitate the Body of a Woman or of a Man, but to surpass it in Capability.”

Even now, as I recall to Memory the Form of that Creature, or machine,—for I know not which Term to use,—my Heart chills over, and I tremble with a nameless Horror. I have more to write, but my Fingers are frozen to the Bone; I shall end this Letter here, and write to you again on the Morrow. I confess, my dear Sister, That I know not what to think of these Revelations. But I know that

I remain, &c.

–

Continue to Part 20.

(Continuing the narrative that began here.)

Part 18.

–

Letter the Twenty-Fourth: Sir George Purvis to Miss Amelia Purvis.

My dearest Amelia,——

’Tis all done, all exploded, and doubtless the News has reached you before these Letters,—Letters which I had until recently supposed were in your Hands already. I send them to you now in a Bundle, because the Rumors of my Part in the Affair must have caused you no little Distress; and these Letters, writ as the Events took Place, may explain, what must, when you heard of it, have seemed inexplicable. I know not whether you can forgive me now for the Disgrace which you must surely have suffered on my Behalf; but I ask that you put aside your Resentment, until after you have read these Letters:—Letters which, I trust, will represent me as a Fool, but not as a Criminal.

Farewell, my dearest Sister, and my Companion. Whether I shall see you again, I cannot say, but I shall always carry your Image in my Heart; for, believe me, I am ever

Your loving Brother,

George.

–

The Letters that follow were found in a Bundle tied with String; and it is very doubtful, whether any of ’em had ever been read, before the Preparation of this Volume.

–

Letter the Twenty-Fifth: Sir George Purvis to Miss Amelia Purvis.

My poor dear Amelia,——

Why do I write? I tremble with Rage, —with Shame, —with I know not what Passions, so that I can scarce hold the Pen; I have been imposed upon, to such a Degree, that I cannot express my Fury. I write to express, what I cannot express: This is a Paradox, or unnatural Contradiction. But I shall tell you what has passed, and you shall know. —But because I have taken an Oath, which may not be abnegated, tho’ all Reason begs me to break it, I must ask you to consider all I write as a Confidence, to be imparted to you only.

I retired last Night, the third Night of my Stay here, in that same cavernous, but now familiar Room; and I had nearly drifted into Slumber, when I felt an overwhelming Sense that someone stood without the Door. I know not whether I had heard some Movement, or whether some preternatural Sense had given me a Warning; but the Impression would no be dispelled. At once my old Fears came back, and I could not overcome them without opening the Door and seeing what stood beyond. I rose from the Bed, and grasped a Taper; I strode toward the Door, and now I positively heard a Sound, as of footsteps without. I flung the door aside and stepped into the darkened Hall; and what was my Horror, you may easily imagine, when I beheld rapidly receding from me, that same spectral Apparition which had terrified me on my first Visit: a ghostly Woman, all in white, on the Edge of the Candle-light.

I know not whether I have grown bolder, or whether my Fear impelled me to Action. I began to pursue the Apparition, and at once the Apparition quickened its Step; I positively ran, and soon caught her; she struggled, twisted, turned toward me, and in the light of the dim Candle I beheld the Face of the Automaton. It was not the Automaton, for it was a Woman of living Flesh; and yet it was that Face, which I had studied, and committed to Memory in every Part and Detail. Then she twisted to escape me again, and the Taper fell, and was extinguished, so that we were in utter Darkness.

I had relinquished my Hold on the Creature, and I heard her hastening Footsteps receding from me in the impenetrable Blackness; but I stood unmoving for some Time. At first I was bewildered; then the awful Verity that I had been monstrously deceived flooded into me all at once, and I was filled with impotent Anger. ’Twas at once clear to me, That there had never been an Automaton, and I resolved, or rather was impelled by blind Rage, to wake Doctor Albertus, and have Words with him.

Why shall I prolong your Distress, as mine was prolong’d? I took a Taper from my Room and woke the Doctor; he admitted, with a cold Frankness that was as appalling as it was unexpected, that the Automaton I had seen was but a Woman artfully disguised. In a word, she was one Fanny Smith, late a Seamstress of London, whom he had trained and employed to impersonate a Machine. When I began to express my Indignation, he had the Temerity to suggest that we discuss the matter in a civilized Fashion, which is to say over Coffee in the Drawing-room. As I was nearly apoplectic with Rage, he took the Opportunity of my Speechlessness to ring for his antient Housekeeper; and the Coffee was poured, and as he drank (for I drank nothing) the Scoundrel actually attempted to perswade me that he had done no wrong. “You cannot know how true my falsehoods have been,” he said to me, speaking in such impenetrable Riddles that I verily did begin to believe him mad. I was not perswaded, however, and so he began to speak of another more shameful Matter, and to my Shame I admit to having listened to his base Appeal. For this is what he said:

“There is—alas that I should mention it!—one other Matter, the Consideration of which may be of some Assistance in determining thy Course of Action. I refer to thine own Reputation, which I do verily believe is as much involved as mine in the publick Perception of my Work. Consider it well, Sir George: Consider the Opinion of thine Acquaintances, thy Friends, thine own Family, wert thou to denounce me as a Fraud;—me, whom thou hast introduced into their Society as thine especial Friend. I own I know not what Course I should pursue, were I in thy Position. Thou knowest so little of me, that thou thinkest me an Impostor, not seeing—for how couldst thou see?—that mine Imposture, as thou must see it, serves only Truth. Yet I could show thee, when thou art more prepared for the Beholding of it;—I could show thee, I say, that which would remove thy Doubts. Thou didst think me honest until now; thou wilt think me so again, I dare say, when thou knowest all; in the Interval, a little Faith will sustain thee, and thy Trust will prove a Benefit to us both.”

“Trust?” I spoke with a Vehemence that surprised me.—”Trust? How do you speak to me of Trust, when you pass off a common Hussy as the scientifick Miracle of the Age? Trust, sir, is not a Privilege you have earned, you and your Cockney Seamstress. Can you truly expect my Trust after such a foul Betrayal?”

I stopped: The Fiend was smiling at me.

“My Indignation amuses you,” I said, with my Rage scarce controlled.

“Thou speakest (quoth he) in the Accents of a disappointed Lover. ’Tis natural, Sir George. Mistress Smith is not the Mystery thou thought’st her, tho’ I should wager she has Mystery enough in the Depths and Recesses of her Soul. She might surprize thee, Sir George. No matter: I can see that thou feelest a Loss or Bereavement. It is my place as thy Friend—nay, speak not, Sir George, and leave unsaid what thou wouldst fain unsay in Time to come, for thou wilt find me thy true Friend ere long; and it is my place as thy Friend, I say, to console thee. Thou grievest for the Automaton that is dead: Rejoice, for the Automaton lives.

“Thou hast (he continued) a rare and penetrating Intellect, which is a Faculty not to be despised. I love thee for it; I verily do; ’tis the Thing that makes us Brothers, whatever thine Opinion of me may be at the Moment.”

I refrained from expressing my Opinion, for which I own at the Moment I could hardly find Words. With great Deliberateness, he took a lingering Sip from his Coffee before continuing thus:

“Wherefore I have made up my Mind to introduce thee to the most profound Mysteries of mine Art: For I am not quite the Fraud thou mightst think me. It is true that I have in a Manner of Speaking deceived the Publick, and thee as well; but my Deception, as thou wouldst name it, has been in the Service of a greater and deeper Truth. That such is the Case, thou wilt doubtless acknowledge, when thou hast seen, what no Man, and only one Woman, has seen heretofore: I mean the Workshop wherein my Secrets are hid from the uncomprehending Gaze of the unsympathetic World.”

And this is where we have left the matter. I blush to say it, and cannot explain it; but I have given the Doctor my Promise, That I shall not make any precipitate Decision, until I have viewed this Workshop of his: Wherein he undertakes to shew me the Reason for his Fraud and Subterfuge. Here in my Room, away from the Flow of honey’d Words with which he attempts to soothe my wounded Conscience, I can see no reason for it; I should like to depart at once, and tell all London that the great Doctor is a Cheat and a Liar. But I have given him my Word, and I am bound by it: For my Honor, I hope, has not been taken from me, tho’ my Reputation might be ruined. Farewell for the Moment, and believe me that I am innocent of any Intention to Deceive: For I am

Your honorable brother,

George.

–

Continue to Part 19.

(Continuing the narrative that began here.)

Part 17.

–

Letter the Twenty-Second: Sir George Purvis to Miss Amelia Purvis.

My dear Sister,——

I have returned to Grimthorne. I own I had not expected so soon to desert the Metropolis; but Doctor Albertus must go back to his Workshop, to produce more of the Clockworks for which the demand in London is quite insatiable. When he offered an Invitation to me to accompany him again, I could not refuse. Without the Automaton, what is there to keep me in London?

Here I sit, in that same cold and dark Room, with an infinite Number of Tapers making War upon the Darkness, but with as little Effect as if they were so many Ants ranged against Hannibal’s Elephants. The Chill penetrates to my very Bones, and the one Hand that strays from the Mountain of Bedclothes which I have built—the Hand with which I write—is nearly numb with the Cold. Yet I regret not coming here, for here is the Automaton, and here her Creator; I have left the World of ordinary Men, and partake even now of the World to come. —You see how the Philosophy of Doctor Albertus has affected me.

I promise to write as often as am able, but the Letters may be short. I shall end this one now, and withdraw my Hand from the icy Chill. You shall hear from me to-morrow, or the Day after that; until then,

I remain, &c.

–

Letter the Twenty-Third: Miss Amelia Purvis to Miss Honoria Wells.

My dearest Honoria,——

You must know that our George has been called from London again, and is once more in the inaccessible Wilds of the Country on Business. I am not at all sure that this Business of his is the sort that becomes a Gentleman of good Character. I do not mean that you have any Cause for suspecting him, but only that his Reputation is not well served by this Business of his. I shall not keep from you that George has gone to the Country-house of this Doctor Albertus, whose Automaton is the Talk of London. ’Tis one Thing for a Gentleman to enjoy the Performances of such a Character, and quite another Thing to become his particular and intimate Friend. I tell you these things so that you may exercise you Influence over him; for tho’ I know that George will be ruled by your sound Advice, when once you are his Wife, yet there are some Occasions on which you may wish to anticipate that happy State, and demand forthwith that Obedience which will then be your Due. For tho’ I am his Relation by Blood, yet you will be nearer, as being his Wife, whom he must honor. Farewell then for now. Distance cannot truly Separate two Sisters, whom all the Ties of mutual Affection conspire to bind together;

Wherefore I remain, &c.

–

Continue to Part 18.

(Continuing the narrative that began here.)

Part 16.

–

Letter the Twentieth: Sir George Purvis to Miss Amelia Purvis.

My dear Sister,——

’Tis no small Satisfaction to be of Benefit to the Deserving; and so I call myself fortunate in having proved a Friend to the eminent Doctor Albertus. The Success of his Clockworks in the World of Fashion—a Success which he is kind enough to attribute in Part to my Efforts—has allowed him to hire a commodious House in Town, in Place of the small Rooms he occupied previously. He begins to live with the Dignity that is his Due.

Three times in the past Week, Doctor Albertus has exhibited the Automaton here in my House, and my many Friends—how many Friends I have when the Automaton is to be seen!—have attended, and applauded, and given their Commissions to Doctor Albertus for more Clockworks, so that I verily believe the Doctor will soon be as great in Wealth, as he is eminent in Philosophy. He will now move his Demonstrations to his own spacious Drawing-room, tho’ he requests my Assistance still: “For,” says he, “it is through thine Aid that our Automaton has reached the World of Fashion; in a Manner of Speaking, thou hast introduced her into Society, and she owes thee her Gratitude.” Doctor Albertus has, on more than one Occasion, allowed the Automaton to demonstrate her Gratitude in the most delightful Manner, serving us a private Supper after her Exhibition, and responding to my Commands with the same Alacrity with which she responds to the Doctor himself.

I cannot help confessing some Unease, however, at these repeated Exhibitions of the Creature. Her Innocence makes me sensible of the Depravity of even the best Elements of Society, and on many Occasions I have blushed to hear Remarks of the most indecent Character, spoken by the most eminent Gentlemen—nay, and even Ladies—on such subjects as the hidden physical Attributes of the Automaton, and their Resemblance to those of a veritable Female: Remarks which were spoken no more than an Arm’s-length away from her, and in such a voice as she must doubtless hear. I know that she is but a Machine, but (no doubt led by the Speculations of Doctor Albertus) I cannot but think of her as an innocent Soul, who I know can hear, and understand, to some limited Degree; and my Fear, tho’ it be irrational, is that the Exposure to the Corruption of this World, which she must necessarily receive by her constant Mingling among even the best Representatives of it, shall taint that impeccant Purity which is hers by Virtue of her immaculate Generation. Some Moments there are, when I am tempted to believe everything Doctor Albertus has told me about her Soul; and at those Times I wish nothing more than to spirit her away to some remote Fastness, against whose Gates the World cannot prevail, and where we should live in primitive Innocence. But this is Foolishness. The Demonstrations will go on, for they have made the Fortune of Doctor Albertus; and I shall continue to assist at them, for the Privilege of observing the Automaton, and the Friendship of her eminent Creator.

Forgive, I pray, the late Infrequency of my Correspondence; but know that it proceeds from no Diminution of my Affection for you:

For I remain, &c.

–

Letter the Twenty-First: Miss Honoria Wells to Sir George Purvis.

My own beloved George,——

It is not within the Power of our English Tongue to describe the Horror of my Situation. I arose; I walked to the Window; I gazed out, and beheld—O frightful Torture!—the same vast Expanse of Grass and Sheep which I had beheld the Day before, and the Day before that, and an infinite Number of Days before that: The same Expanse of Nothing, unreliev’d by the Sight of my own George on a swift Horse, dashing to rescue me from the unjust and intolerable Imprisonment which I suffer for his Sake.

Each Day that passes is a Torment, because it passes without you. Your Absence is a Knife that twists in my Breast, bleeding me slowly to my Death; could I but see you, however, my Strength would revive at once, and I know I should be filled with the Vigor to follow you wherever you led me, were it to the Indies and back. In short, I die without you; with you I live. Can London’s cold Heart have ensnared you with such unbreakable Bonds, that you cannot escape, and bring me back to Life? I confess, my Beloved,—I shall not hide it from you,—that I have often schemed to escape this Prison in which I am held Captive, and to make my Way to the Capital to join you, tho’ I should have to travel the whole Distance on Foot, exposed to the Dangers of Bandits and wild Beasts. Dangers be d—n’d! Yes, I am not afraid to curse the Distance that parts us. Can you not end your cruel, wicked Business in London, and fly back to her, whose Heart you hold in your Hand? I must see you soon, or die; for Death is better than Life, when Life is not to be endured.

Thus I remain, but for how long I cannot tell, &c.

–

Continue to Part 17.

–

(Continuing the narrative that began here.)

Part 15.

–

Letter the Seventeenth: Sir George Purvis to Miss Honoria Wells.

My esteemed Honoria,——

You may be assured that you are always in my Thoughts, and you should not suppose that my temporary Absence from London has in any way diminished my Esteem for you. I have accomplished the Business that took me from the Metropolis, and shall be returning shortly, at which Time I hope to have more News for you. In the Interim, I desire you not to expend any fruitless Anxiety upon me: For I am well, and much the Same, and shall remain

Yours, &c.

–

Letter the Eighteenth: Sir George Purvis to Miss Amelia Purvis.

My dear Sister,——

You will be pleased to learn that I have sent Honoria a Letter filled with Endearments and Apologies for my infrequent Correspondence. I hope my Amendment will give her Satisfaction, and remove those Anxieties which my Silence had produced in her.

I have returned to my House in Town, and Doctor Albertus to his Lodgings; and I find my Life here surprisingly dull, without the Company of the Automaton and her Creator. ’Tis never an easy Thing to take leave of a Friend; and so I have come to regard her, tho’ my rational Mind attempts to perswade me that she is but an Object. Until I was deprived of them, I had no Notion of how much Value I placed on those Hours with her at Grimthorne. This Evening I have eat my Supper alone; and I longed to see the Automaton again, whose graceless Grace made every Supper at Grimthorne a Delight. The Beauty of her Form is pleasing, as a Statue is pleasing; but the Effort with which she moves, and the entire Innocence of her Soul (if I may speak as Doctor Albertus speaks), give her a Charm beyond mere Beauty. For aside from the Automaton I have never seen a Beauty without a Spark of Malevolence in her;—I mean, of course, my own Sister excepted;—and my aged Housekeeper, tho’ she may (for all I know) possess the Innocence of the Automaton, has not the Beauty. Even in the Pursuit of my daily Affairs, the Memory of her comes to me often.

I shall not languish long in Solitude, however; for Doctor Albertus has kindly accepted my Invitation to exhibit his Automaton here this Thursday Evening, and a considerable Number of my Acquaintances will be here to see her. Even the Marquess of H——, who in ordinary Times would barely acknowledge me in the Street, declares that no Consideration could induce him to miss this Demonstration. Farewell, then, for the Moment: When I have more to say, I shall write again, until which Time,

I remain, &c.

–

Letter the Nineteenth: Lord C—— to His Son.

Dear Boy,

It is common at your Age to take as one’s Models Men who are but a few Years older, whose Majority allows them a wide Plain of Action, but whose Youth seems to place them within the Sphere of one’s Experience. Indeed I have always advised you to do so, and I do not regret my Advice. When it comes to particular Cases, however, I am always willing to admit when my Judgment has been mistaken, whether for the Better or for the Worse. I recall many times having advised you to look to your good Friend Sir George Purvis as a Paradigm of the young Gentleman of the World. I no longer do so. I do not advise you to cut off his Friendship, which I know you would never do whether I advised it or not; but his intimate Association with the curious Doctor Albertus has, in my Estimation, rendered him less an Object for Emulation, and more one of Pity. I do not doubt but that he has his own Motives for granting the eminent Doctor such unrestricted Liberty of Association, among which may be that philosophical Curiosity which I have often praised in him, as being conducive to moral Reflection; but the Fact, whether he knows it or not, is that he has made a publick Spectacle of himself in a Way that is not at all congruent with a good Reputation in the World. It is true that the World of Fashion has of late much resorted to his House in London, and that he has obtained the Society of many with whom he would not otherwise have been acquainted; but upon what Terms? The Report I hear of him is, to speak with the greatest Charity, not uniformly favorable. I believe he is regarded by much of the fashionable World as a kind of stage Performer, whose Performances are admired without his ever being admitted into Equality with his Audience. In a Word, it is not for himself, but for this Automaton, that he has Friends; and he would do well to consider in what Light he will be seen, when the Automaton is forgotten, and the Doctor returned to his Obscurity. You may learn that Lesson from him.

Adieu! I should like you to avoid mentioning this Letter to Sir George, in case the Reports I have heard have been greatly distorted in their Transit across the Channel.

–

Continue to Part 16.

(Continuing the narrative that began here.)

Part 14.

–

Letter the Fourteenth: Miss Amelia Purvis to Sir George Purvis.

Dear Brother,——

I know the Regard you have for our Cousin Honoria; but you must have a Care not to keep that Regard to yourself, but to take every Opportunity to make it visible to her. I have received a Letter from her, expressing her Fears that some dreadful Calamity may have befallen you, on Account of the long Interval between Letters from you. I am writing her this Day to inform her that you are well, and that certain Business has taken you out of London; I do not mention Doctor Albertus and his Automaton, because she expressed some seeming Disapproval when last I wrote on that Subject.

I thank you, as always, for your many Letters to me, which I treasure, not only as conveying the latest Intelligence from the Metropolis, but also as bringing my beloved Brother back to me, if only for the Duration of the Letter. I would ask only that you favor Honoria with some Communication as well; and if I have all unwitting been the Cause of your Neglect of her, by my importunate Demands for Correspondence, then I had rather you ceased writing to me altogether, than that you neglected her, who will one Day be your Wife, and who therefore has yet more Claim on your Attention than I have.

Yours &c.

–

Letter the Fifteenth: Miss Amelia Purvis to Miss Honoria Wells.

Dearest Honoria,——

Put your Mind at Ease regarding George. Certain Business, as trivial as it is necessary, has taken him from London; and I know he prefers not to burden you with such Matters. His few Letters to me have been abbreviated as well, and taken up with such family Matters as I thought would be of little Interest or Amusement to you. He promises, however, that he will write to both of us at greater Length when he returns to London. In the Interval, I have nothing to report from here, save that my sisterly Affection for you, whom I already count my own Sister, is undiminished, and that I sincerely wish you could be here, or I there, so that our mutual Society could enliven the dull Weeks of a Season passed in the Country. Believe me, I am ever

Yours, &c.

–

Letter the Sixteenth: Sir George Purvis to Miss Amelia Purvis.

My dear Sister,——

You must forgive the Interval between my Letters. When next you hear from me, I shall be in London again: For Doctor Albertus and I are returning to the Metropolis, he with a Trunk filled with clockwork Toys, which are intended for the many Persons of Quality who gave him Orders; I with no more than I set out with. I shall not be sorry to bid farewell to Grimthorne, a house at once incommodious and mysterious; yet I should be less than honest if I left you with the Impression of any Deficiency in the Hospitality which Doctor Albertus has extended to me: For he has been most gracious, within the Limits of his Power.

You were quite correct in your Admonition to me to write our Cousin more often, and I have begun a Letter to her, which I shall complete before I retire this Evening. As ever, your solicitous Concern for my Interest is more than I merit, but certainly not more than I need; and until that fortunate day, when our Honoria shall undertake the Management of my Affairs, I am happy to rely on your Advice. Enough of this: You may consider me chastened properly, and, if not thoroughly amended, then at least conscious of the Need for Amendment.

When I said that I should not be sorry to leave Grimthorne, I did not wish you to believe that I felt any Regret at having passed this Time here. Indeed, I count it a rare Privilege, both to be the Guest of so eminent a Philosopher as Doctor Albertus, and to observe the Automaton at such Proximity. Tho’ Doctor Albertus is unwilling to subject her to more than an Hour’s Operation each Day, on Account of the Delicacy of her Mechanism; yet in those short Hours I feel as though I have come to know her, almost as a Friend. Doctor Albertus has taught me to command her myself, and ’tis a wonderful Thing, to have such an attentive Domestick. Indeed, Doctor Albertus tells me, That he has had many Inquiries about furnishing such Domesticks to the great Houses of Europe; but as yet he cannot in good Conscience agree, the constant Maintenance of the Machinery being more than any other than himself could attend to.

These Considerations lead me to regard my Time at Grimthorne as happy, notwithstanding the Inconveniences of the House. Tho’ I have passed many Nights here, I cannot dispel the Mystery that hangs over the Place, and the perpetual Gloom of the Days only renders the Nights darker. Indeed, on more than one Occasion, when I was alone in the Day, the Doctor having retreated to the Sanctuary of his Workshop (which I have not seen, the Delicacy of the Work, as Doctor Albertus tells me, requiring absolute Concentration); on more than one Occasion, I say, I have fancy’d I heard that Noise of Clockworks, which disturbed my Rest on my first Night here; yet it was distant, and indistinct, and Reason tells me it must be no more than Wind, or rushing Water. For these Reasons, I say, tho’ my Time here was happy, yet I shall be glad to see London again.

When I have reached London, I shall resume my Correspondence with you. I shall not fail to write to Honoria to-night. Until then,

I remain, &c.

–

Continue to Part 15.