On November 21, 1782, Jacques Vaucanson, renowned for his automata, died after an eventful existence. From childhood, Vaucanson is said to have been fascinated with mechanics. In fact, it is rumored that his story begins by recreating a clock he’d repeatedly seen while accompanying his mother to confession. Vaucanson’s story continued to intersect with religion as he was bolstered by a monk who was actually his math teacher. He even became a novice in the religious order of Minimes in Lyon.
Vaucanson left the religious life when he was condemned by a visitor for whom he created “androids, which would serve dinner and clear the tables.” Afterward, the high-ranking visitor reportedly declared that “he thought Vaucanson’s tendencies ‘profane,’ and ordered that his workshop be destroyed.”
Luckily for Vaucanson, Paris offered a respite from the criticism, as well as a chance to create enough automata to go on tour. On tour he found a financial backer to support him. Shortly after the tour ended, Vaucanson dreamed up his next creation in an illness-induced delirium. The creation, a life-size flute player capable of playing twelve different melodies, mimicked “the very means by which a man would make [music]. There was a mechanism to correspond to every muscle.”
Vaucanson followed up the flutist with a pipe-and-drum figure and his most famous creation: a mechanical duck.

The duck could eat from Vaucanson’s hand, then swallow, digest, and excrete the food’s waste. The onlookers were amazed by the lifelike creature, which drank water and quacked—just like a real duck.
Having caught the eye of Louis XV with his excrement-producing duck, Vaucanson was offered the position of Inspector of Silk Manufacture. During his time in this position, Vaucanson managed to create an automated loom. Unfortunately, his success ended there as the silk workers revolted. The revolt was suppressed, but not without sufficient loss of life that many blamed Vaucanson for—it didn’t help that he had responded to their criticisms of his machine by building “a loom manned by a donkey, in order to prove, as he said, that ‘a horse, an ox or an ass can make cloth more beautiful and much more perfect than the most able silk workers.’” The result was that Vaucanson ran away, as he had from his religious life. Perhaps, it can be seen as him coming full circle because he escaped in the garb of a Minime monk.
Vaucanson’s automata are still referenced today as an essential step toward the industrial revolution—especially his automated loom and his ever-memorable duck.
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