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Arthur Pendleton adjusted the binocular magnifier strapped across his forehead , leaning over the velvet - lined tray where the swan's articulated silver neck lay uncoupled from its torso . It was twenty past five on a drizzling November evening at the Bowes Museum , and the gallery upstairs had long since emptied of visitors . Under the halogen lamp , several hundred individual components : chased silver feathers , miniature steel bevels , brass cam - discs , and coiled spring barrels , were arrayed in strict concentric sequences . The museum trustees expected the eighteenth - century automaton to preen its plumage and catch its silver fish at the bicentenary gala on Thursday , but the main drive arbor had seized solid . Had Arthur attempted to force the key arbor , the brittle , hand - filed teeth would have sheared instantly . Seldom had a conservator encountered a machine so deceptively intricate . When the swan performed , spectators saw only fluid , effortless pantomime : the silver neck arching downward , the beak parting , the glass rod river spinning to simulate rushing water . What they failed to grasp was the brutal mechanical tension concealed beneath that chased plumage . Three clockwork mechanisms operated within the shallow silver basin , each driving the next through a labyrinth of counterweighted levers . Over two centuries , microscopic grit and oxidized whale oil had combined into a hardened resin , locking the cam followers in mid - rotation . An impatient technician might have flooded the assembly with modern solvent ; Arthur did not . Such aggressive chemistry would strip the delicate fire - gilding on the internal plates . Instead , he worked with bone - tipped spatulas and drops of pharmaceutical - grade alcohol , dissolving the centuries of calcified lubricant tooth by tooth . What demanded the most nerve was the extraction of the neck linkage . Thirty - two silver rings , each containing six internal pivot screws smaller than sesame seeds , conveyed motion to the head . Only when Arthur eased the brass retaining clip aside with a pair of watchmaker's tweezers did the tension finally release , allowing the segmented vertebrae to slump gently into his palm . He exhaled slowly , setting the tweezers down upon the green baize . Through the quiet laboratory , the museum's longcase clock chimed the half - hour . The swan was completely dismantled , its illusion dissolved into inert metal , but every bearing was intact . Tomorrow the rebuilding would begin , but tonight the old automaton could rest .
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