The following day, as father and Thomas set to work preparing to send letters and telegrams to Church leaders and men of influence, I found myself with a desire to act as well. My thoughts had often drifted back to the article in the Times and Echo and I decided a response was needed. Such a one sided attack from outsiders lacking in compassion and understanding could not go unanswered. So I set to work drafting my rebuttal. When, after the better part of a day, I had completed my work I brought it to Father and Thomas for their thoughts. It read thusly:

Peter Dowling is has been a resident of the village of Rothsfield for three and twenty years, which accounts for the entirety of his life. He has worked for many years as a dependable porter, well known, well respected, and well loved by those that know him. But one day he began to grow weaker. His work became difficult. He paid a visit on the tireless and hard-working Dr. Blythe, also of Rothsfield for more than thirty years, who had the unfortunate duty to diagnosis Mr. Dowling with a severe case of consumption. Without extraordinary measures Mr. Dowling would die. However, Dr. Blythe had one revolutionary medical and scientific procedure, which could save the young man’s life.

Today, Mr. Dowling is still alive. He is still able to enjoy pleasant company and the unexpected vagaries of life. He has known but one small change; he is now wholly dependent upon an external prosthesis for life. Unfortunately, because of this he has been labeled a mechanical man. Some use this appellation to suggest that he is somehow less than a man or some monstrosity crafted by dark magics.

The truth is far simpler and more wondrous. He is a man who has lived a tragic life and whose continued existence is nothing short of miraculous. Had Mr. Dowling been born in any other period of history, the Consumption with which he suffered would have certainly taken his life. It is with great awe that I note we are beyond those days. We are the residents of a modern world capable of incredible achievements. Mr. Dowling is alive because he was granted a new body when his old one failed him. His life was not cut short, but allowed to continue.

This fine paper has offered a fair deal of reportage concerning the public’s fear of Mr. Dowling, including fears that he is not a man at all but rather a soulless automaton, or worse yet, a dark product of foul necromancy. It is with great shame that I admit I too shared the misconceptions. I thought of him as a machine, an ‘it,’ but I was so very wrong. I was blessed with the opportunity to personally meet with Mr. Dowling and I can confirm that he is no mere machine. He is a man, a human being, who retains all the same hopes and fears. He feels the same emotions that any person feels, and so I ask you, dear readers, is this all we have to offer Peter Dowling? A human life was saved, and he is greeted with a display of fear and prejudice. Make no mistake, Mr. Dowling can read and he read the article as well. I was there and watched this poor man hang his head in shame and doubt at the miracle that is his second chance at life. We, the people of Rothsfield support our friend Peter Dowling, so long a member of this community. Now I ask those of Bristol and of all of England, those who claim to be good Christian men and women, God has granted this man continued life, who are we to call him a monster? Where is our brotherly love and compassion?

Contrary to what some would claim, the miracle of modern science that saved Mr. Dowling’s life is not the Devil’s work. Doctor Blyth had the ability to save Mr. Dowling’s life. He used his God given talents to keep a young man alive. This is the work of a good man tasked with saving and preserving life whenever possible. I ask you now, if we have the ability to save a life, do we not also have the moral responsibility to do so?

There has been a call to “dismantle” Mr. Dowling. What does it mean to dismantle a human being? If a whaler should lose his leg during the course of his duties, and affixes a wooden peg to act as replacement, should we condemn that man for his peg leg simply because it is not made of flesh and blood? That while the means exist to ease his sufferings he not be allowed to use them? I pray the very notion reads as folly for that is what it is. For Mr. Dowling his body is that peg leg. It is a crutch to ease his suffering. Nothing more than that.

Some have claimed that Mr. Dowling is a soulless machine. In truth, I know not the state of his soul. No one among us does. However, I do know mine should be troubled if I failed to help a man in need. Mr. Dowling is in need. I urge you, dear reader, to look past your fears and see the man inside the machine. Let us not persecute his existence, but celebrate his life. Let us not judge Doctor Blyth and Mr. Dowling, lest we be judged as well. Instead, let us open our hearts to Peter Dowling. Let us not persecute his existence, but celebrate his life.

Thomas approved of my sentiments, as did Father, though he warned me that not everyone would agree. He feared I may earn myself a few enemies with such a letter. Nevertheless, it was with great pride and a sense of accomplishment that I proofread my letter once again. It was too late in the day to depart for Bristol but I arranged for our carriage to be prepared early the next morning. I passed a restless night as I tried to imagine what tomorrow would bring. I was intent on personally hand delivering my letter to The Times and Echo’s office.

“Pleasant day for drive, Lady Fairfax,” Mr. Harlow greeted as I approached the carriage before the sun had fully risen. He was a kindly man who had served my family as our driver for as long as I could remember.

“Indeed it is Mr. Harlow. When you are ready, let us depart. I intend to inconvenience the ignorant.”

“Very good,” he laughed as we began our journey.

Once I arrived at The Bristol Times and Echo, I was shown into Mr. Wadsworth’s office, the editor-in-chief, where he was gracious enough to discuss my submission in person.

“Lady Fairfax, let me first say how honored we are to have you contribute to our humble newspaper. As I understand it, you have written a piece on the Mechanical Man?”

“Thank you for your kindness, and yes, I found I have a bit to say on the subject.”

“Splendid! I’m sure our readers will be thrilled to have your view on the matter. In fact we will be printing another editorial piece by Lord Bankes. Perhaps they will make the perfect companion pieces.”

“Well, they may…”

“Might I read your submission?”

“Of course,” I said, handing him my work.

He eagerly placed his spectacles upon his nose and began to read. I had the suspicion that my work might not be what he was expecting. This was soon confirmed as I watched his smile vanish and his lips purse. He then set my letter down and looked at it for a moment before turning back to me.

“…Lady Fairfax… I’m not sure I can publish this.”

“I am sorry, have I done something wrong? I can write another draft.”

“No, it’s not that,” he hesitated. “It’s written rather well in fact, but… it’s too favorable. Towards the machine I mean.”

“Yes, that’s the idea. Your paper only printed one side of the argument.”

“That is the overwhelming view here in Bristol and the one which Baron Cramshaw, the owner of this publication favors. Even the Church has denounced it.”

“Father Joseph, you mean.”

“Is there a difference? He is the Church’s representative and a personal friend to the Baron I might add.”

“I’m sorry but though he may be the ranking priest at St. Mary Redcliffe that does not make Father Joseph the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

“Maybe so, but this cannot be published.”

“But in Rothsfield, Father Hughes, the head of our parish, actually supports Mr. Dowling. Yet no one has been bothered to ask him or print his views. People need to see there are two sides to this story. And people will want to see that. Imagine if you could print, exclusively, the thoughts of those willing to stand up for Mr. Dowling. That is sure to attract some of the Evening Post’s readers.”

“Even if I print it no one will support you,” he insisted.

“Let them decide.”

“You truly want to publically declare your support for this thing.”

“I insist on it.”

He considered me a few moments. I was worried he would remain adamant in his refusal and so it came as quite a relief when he said, “Very well. I think I have a solution that will satisfy all parties involved. And you, Lady Fairfax, will have a headline.”

I left The Times and Echo feeling optimistic. Although, Mr. Wadsworth’s response was both cryptic and slightly disappointing, I was convinced people would begin to see their error once they had read my article.