The story goes that an English mechanic, who had already devised the most ingenious machines, at last hit on the idea of constructing a human being. In this he finally succeeded: the work of his hands could act and behave just like a human being, and in its leather bosom it even had a kind of human feeling, not all that different from the normal feelings of Englishmen. It could convey its sensations in articulate sounds, and the noise of its internal wheels, racks, and screws, which then became audible, gave these sounds a perfect English accent. In short, this automaton was a complete gentleman, and it lacked nothing but a soul in order to be a real human being. A soul, however, was more than the English mechanic could give it, and the poor creature, aware of this deficiency, tormented its creator night and day, pleading with him to give it a soul. This plea was repeated ever more insistently, till at last the artist could endure it no longer and took flight from his own artifact. The automaton, however, promptly took a special mail-coach, pursued him to the Continent, and now perpetually travels after him. Sometimes it catches up with him, and then it croaks and grunts at him: “Give me a soul!” These two figures are to be met with in every country, and only those who know the peculiar relation between them can understand why they are always in such haste and in such a fearful state of ill-temper. Those who do not know their relationship, however, see in it something more general: they see how part of the English people has grown weary of its mechanical existence and is demanding a soul, while the remaining part, terrified by this desire, is driven hither and yon, and neither of them can stand being at home any longer