The Engineering of the Strandbeest: How the Magnificent Mechanical Creatures Have Technologically Evolved

Life evolves, but machines are invent­ed: this dichoto­my hard­ly con­flicts with what most of us have learned about biol­o­gy and tech­nol­o­gy. But cer­tain spec­i­mens roam­ing around in the world can blur that line — and in the curi­ous case of the Strand­beesten, they real­ly are roam­ing around. First assem­bled in 1990 by the Dutch artist Theo Jansen, a Strand­beest (Dutch for “beach beast”) is a kind of wind-pow­ered kinet­ic sculp­ture designed to “walk” around the sea­side in an organ­ic-look­ing fash­ion. Jansen has made them not just ever larg­er and more elab­o­rate over the decades, but also more sta­ble and more resilient, with an eye toward their even­tu­al­ly out­liv­ing him.

Improv­ing the Strand­beest has been a long process of tri­al and error, as explained in the Ver­i­ta­si­um video above. Jansen’s process espe­cial­ly resem­bles bio­log­i­cal evo­lu­tion in that the changes he makes to his cre­ations tend to be retained or dis­card­ed in accor­dance with the degree to which they assist in adap­ta­tion to their sandy, watery envi­ron­ment.

Get­ting them to walk upright in the sand was hard enough, and ulti­mate­ly required com­put­er mod­el­ing to deter­mine just the right angles at which to con­nect their joints. But the joints them­selves have also demand­ed improve­ment, giv­en that the rig­ors of a Strand­beest’s “life” neces­si­tate both flex­i­bil­i­ty and dura­bil­i­ty.

We’ve fea­tured Jansen and his Strand­beesten more than once here on Open Cul­ture, but this new video reveals anoth­er dimen­sion of his life­long project: to keep them from walk­ing into the sea. This chal­lenge has led him to build “brains” that detect when a Strand­beest has drawn too close to the water. Con­struct­ed with sim­ple mechan­i­cal valves, these sys­tems are rem­i­nis­cent of not just the neu­rons in our own heads, but also of the col­lec­tions of bina­ry switch­es that, assem­bled in much greater num­bers, have tech­no­log­i­cal­ly evolved into the basis of the dig­i­tal devices that we use every day. While a com­put­er can the­o­ret­i­cal­ly last for­ev­er, a liv­ing crea­ture can’t — and nor, so far, can a Strand­beest. But now that Jansen has dis­cov­ered their “genet­ic code,” inven­tors all over the world have already begun their own work prop­a­gat­ing this diverse, cap­ti­vat­ing species world­wide.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Behold the Strand­beest, the Mechan­i­cal Ani­mals That Roam the Beach­es of Hol­land

Sci-Fi Writer Arthur C. Clarke Predicted the Rise of Artificial Intelligence & the Existential Questions We Would Need to Answer (1978)

We now live in the midst of an arti­fi­cial-intel­li­gence boom, but it’s hard­ly the first of its kind. In fact, the field has been sub­ject to a boom-and-bust cycle since at least the ear­ly nine­teen-fifties. Even­tu­al­ly, those busts — which occurred when real­iz­able AI tech­nol­o­gy failed to live up to the hype of the boom — became so long and so thor­ough­go­ing that each was declared an “AI win­ter” of scant research fund­ing and pub­lic inter­est. Yet even deep into one such fal­low sea­son, AI could still inspire enough fas­ci­na­tion to become the sub­ject of the 1978 NOVA doc­u­men­tary “Mind Machines.”

The pro­gram includes inter­views with fig­ures now rec­og­nized as lumi­nar­ies in the his­to­ry of AI: John McCarthy, Mar­vin Min­sky, Ter­ry Wino­grad, ELIZA cre­ator Joseph Weizen­baum. It also brings on no less a tech­no­log­i­cal prophet than Arthur C. Clarke, who notes that the dubi­ous atti­tudes toward the prospect of think­ing machines expressed in the late sev­en­ties had much in com­mon with those about the prospect of space trav­el dur­ing his youth in the thir­ties. In his view, we were already “cre­at­ing our suc­ces­sors. We have seen the first, crude begin­nings of arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence,” and we would “one day be able to design sys­tems that can go on improv­ing them­selves.”

If com­put­ers were there­by to gain greater-than-human intel­li­gence, it would, of course, “com­plete­ly restruc­ture soci­ety” — not that the soci­ety he already knew would­n’t “col­lapse instant­ly” if its own rel­a­tive­ly sim­ple com­put­ers were tak­en away. Clarke not only asks the ques­tion now on many minds of what “the peo­ple who are only capa­ble of low-grade com­put­er-type work” will do when out­stripped by AI, but more deeply under­ly­ing ones as well: “What is the pur­pose of life? What do we want to live for? That is a ques­tion which the intel­li­gent com­put­er will force us to pay atten­tion to.”

Few view­ers in 1978 would have spent much time pon­der­ing such mat­ters before. But pre­sent­ed with footage of all this now-prim­i­tive pro­to-AI tech­nol­o­gy — the com­put­er chess tour­na­ment, the sim­u­lat­ed ther­a­pist, the med­ical-diag­no­sis assis­tant, the NASA Mars rover to be launched in the far-flung future of 1986 — they must at least have felt able to enter­tain the idea that they would live to see an age of machines that could not just think but, as the nar­ra­tor puts it, pos­sess “the most cru­cial aspect of com­mon-sense intel­li­gence: the abil­i­ty to learn.” Per­haps anoth­er AI win­ter will fore­stall that age yet again — if it’s not already here.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Sci-Fi Writer Arthur C. Clarke Pre­dicts the Future in 1964: Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence, Instan­ta­neous Glob­al Com­mu­ni­ca­tion, Remote Work, Sin­gu­lar­i­ty & More

Before Chat­G­PT, There Was ELIZA: Watch the 1960s Chat­bot in Action

Hunter S. Thomp­son Chill­ing­ly Pre­dicts the Future, Telling Studs Terkel About the Com­ing Revenge of the Eco­nom­i­cal­ly & Tech­no­log­i­cal­ly “Obso­lete” (1967)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Google Creates a Career Certificate That Prepares Students for Cybersecurity Jobs in 6 Months

In 2023, Google launched sev­er­al online cer­tifi­cate pro­grams designed to help stu­dents land an entry-lev­el job, with­out nec­es­sar­i­ly hav­ing a col­lege degree. This includes a cer­tifi­cate pro­gram focused on Cyber­se­cu­ri­ty, a field that stands poised to grow as com­pa­nies become more dig­i­tal and face mount­ing cyber­at­tacks.

Offered on Cours­er­a’s edu­ca­tion­al plat­form, the new Google Cyber­se­cu­ri­ty Pro­fes­sion­al Cer­tifi­cate fea­tures eight online cours­es, which will col­lec­tive­ly help stu­dents learn how to:

  • Under­stand the impor­tance of cyber­se­cu­ri­ty prac­tices and their impact for orga­ni­za­tions.
  • Iden­ti­fy com­mon risks, threats, and vul­ner­a­bil­i­ties, as well as tech­niques to mit­i­gate them.
  • Pro­tect net­works, devices, peo­ple, and data from unau­tho­rized access and cyber­at­tacks using Secu­ri­ty Infor­ma­tion and Event Man­age­ment (SIEM) tools.
  • Gain hands-on expe­ri­ence with Python, Lin­ux, and SQL.

The Cyber­se­cu­ri­ty Pro­fes­sion­al Cer­tifi­cate also now includes six new videos that explain how to use AI in cyber­se­cu­ri­ty. The videos cov­er every­thing from using arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence to help iden­ti­fy bugs and sys­tem vul­ner­a­bil­i­ties, to refin­ing code and pri­or­i­tiz­ing alerts with AI.

Stu­dents can take indi­vid­ual cours­es in these pro­fes­sion­al cer­tifi­cate pro­grams for free. (Above, you can watch a video from the first course in the cyber­se­cu­ri­ty cer­tifi­cate pro­gram, enti­tled “Foun­da­tions of Cyber­se­cu­ri­ty.”) How­ev­er, if you would like to receive a cer­tifi­cate, Cours­era will charge $49 per month (after an ini­tial 7‑day free tri­al peri­od). That means that the Cyber­se­cu­ri­ty Pro­fes­sion­al Cer­tifi­cate, designed to be com­plet­ed in 6 months, will cost rough­ly $300 in total.

Once stu­dents com­plete the cyber­se­cu­ri­ty cer­tifi­cate, they can add the cre­den­tial to their LinkedIn pro­file, resume, or CV. As a perk, stu­dents in the U.S. can also con­nect with 150+ employ­ers (e.g., Amer­i­can Express, Col­gate-Pal­mo­live, T‑Mobile, Wal­mart, and Google) who have pledged to con­sid­er cer­tifi­cate hold­ers for open posi­tions. Accord­ing to Cours­era, this cer­tifi­cate can pre­pare stu­dents to become an entry-lev­el “cyber­se­cu­ri­ty ana­lyst and SOC (secu­ri­ty oper­a­tions cen­ter) ana­lyst.”

You can start a 7‑day free tri­al of the Cyber­se­cu­ri­ty Pro­fes­sion­al Cer­tifi­cate here. Alter­na­tive­ly, if you sign up for Cours­era Plus, whose price has been reduced by 40% until Decem­ber 2, 2024, you can enroll in the cyber­se­cu­ri­ty cer­tifi­cate pro­gram at no charge. Find out more here.

Note: Open Cul­ture has a part­ner­ship with Cours­era. If read­ers enroll in cer­tain Cours­era cours­es and pro­grams, it helps sup­port Open Cul­ture.

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Explore the World’s First 3D Replica of St. Peter’s Basilica, Made with AI

In the trail­er below for the world’s first 3D repli­ca of St. Peter’s Basil­i­ca, Yves Ubel­mann speaks of using “AI for Good,” which isn’t just an ide­al, but also the name of a lab at Microsoft. Microsoft and Ubel­man’s dig­i­tal-preser­va­tion com­pa­ny Iconem were two of the par­tic­i­pants in that ambi­tious project, along with the Vat­i­can itself. Pope Fran­cis, writes AP’s Nicole Win­field, “has called for the eth­i­cal use of AI and used his annu­al World Mes­sage of Peace this year to urge an inter­na­tion­al treaty to reg­u­late it, argu­ing that tech­nol­o­gy lack­ing human val­ues of com­pas­sion, mer­cy, moral­i­ty and for­give­ness were too great.”

What bet­ter show of good faith in the tech­nol­o­gy than to allow AI to be used to bring the cen­ter of the faith Pope Fran­cis rep­re­sents to the world? In the near­ly 400 years since its com­ple­tion, of course, the world has always come to the cur­rent St. Peter’s Basil­i­ca, and will con­tin­ue to do so.

The 3D-repli­ca project “has been launched ahead of the Vatican’s 2025 Jubilee, a holy year in which more than 30 mil­lion pil­grims are expect­ed to pass through the basilica’s Holy Door, on top of the 50,000 who vis­it on a nor­mal day,” Win­field writes. But no mat­ter where in the world you hap­pen to be, you can vir­tu­al­ly enter St. Peter’s Basil­i­ca right now, and spend as long as you like, admir­ing the basil­i­ca itself, the cupo­la, Bernini’s St. Peter’s Bal­dachin, and Michelan­gelo’s Pietà, among oth­er fea­tures.

How­ev­er impor­tant (and atten­tion-draw­ing) arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence was as a tool in the cre­ation of this ultra-pre­cise “dig­i­tal twin” of St. Peter’s Basil­i­ca, the four-week process of cap­tur­ing every detail of the real struc­ture that could be cap­tured also neces­si­tat­ed the use of drones, lasers, and cam­eras tak­ing more than 400,000 dig­i­tal pho­tos. The “AI for Good Lab con­tributed advanced tools that refined the dig­i­tal twin with mil­lime­ter-lev­el accu­ra­cy, and used AI to help detect and map struc­tur­al vul­ner­a­bil­i­ties like cracks and miss­ing mosa­ic tiles,” says Microsoft­’s site. “The Vat­i­can over­saw the col­lab­o­ra­tion, ensur­ing the preser­va­tion of the Basil­i­ca as a cul­tur­al, spir­i­tu­al, and his­tor­i­cal­ly sig­nif­i­cant site for years to come.”

It makes a cer­tain sense to apply the high­est tech­nol­o­gy of our time for the ben­e­fit of a build­ing known as the great­est archi­tec­tur­al mar­vel of its time. But in order to bet­ter appre­ci­ate the kind of knowl­edge that will be revealed by the 22 petabytes of infor­ma­tion that went into the dig­i­tal mod­el (which offers its own guid­ed tour) we’d do well to immerse our­selves first in what was already known about St. Peter’s Basil­i­ca. For a brief intro­duc­tion to the con­cep­tion and evo­lu­tion of this grand church as it stands today, we could do much worse than archi­tec­ture-and-his­to­ry YouTu­ber Manuel Bravo’s video “St Peter’s Basil­i­ca Explained.” If you watch it, don’t be sur­prised if you find your­self tempt­ed to engage in pro­longed explo­ration of the mod­el — or indeed, to book a vis­it to the real thing. Enter the dig­i­tal St. Peter’s here.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Take a 3D Vir­tu­al Tour of the Sis­tine Chapel, St. Peter’s Basil­i­ca and Oth­er Art-Adorned Vat­i­can Spaces

High-Res­o­lu­tion Walk­ing Tours of Italy’s Most His­toric Places: The Colos­se­um, Pom­peii, St. Peter’s Basil­i­ca & More

3D Scans of 7,500 Famous Sculp­tures, Stat­ues & Art­works: Down­load & 3D Print Rodin’s Thinker, Michelangelo’s David & More

The Vat­i­can Library Goes Online and Dig­i­tizes Tens of Thou­sands of Man­u­scripts, Books, Coins, and More

Rome Reborn: A New 3D Vir­tu­al Mod­el Lets You Fly Over the Great Mon­u­ments of Ancient Rome

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

What Victorian People Sounded Like: Hear Recordings of Florence Nightingale & Queen Victoria Herself

More than 120 years after the end of the Vic­to­ri­an era, we might assume that we retain a more or less accu­rate cul­tur­al mem­o­ry of the Vic­to­ri­ans them­selves: of their social mores, their aes­thet­ic sen­si­bil­i­ties, their ambi­tions great and small, their many and var­ied hang-ups. Some of the most vivid rep­re­sen­ta­tions of these qual­i­ties have come down to us through pri­ma­ry sources, which tend to be texts and works of visu­al art. Late in Queen Vic­to­ri­a’s reign came pho­tographs, and at the very end, even the motion pic­ture. But how can we be sure how her peo­ple real­ly sound­ed?

Strict­ly speak­ing, the ear­li­est process for mechan­i­cal­ly record­ing the sound of the human voice dates back to 1860, not even halfway through the Vic­to­ri­an era. But the tech­nol­o­gy still had a long way to go at that time, and it was­n’t until the 1880s that Thomas Edis­on’s phono­graph and the wax cylin­ders it played became com­mer­cial­ly viable. So explains the King and Things video above, on the spread of audio record­ing and the ear­li­est pos­si­bil­i­ties it opened for cap­tur­ing the voic­es of what we now regard as the dis­tant past. Those voic­es include that of a man intro­duced as “one of Eng­land’s most famous after-din­ner speak­ers, Mr. Edmund Yates.”

That cylin­der was record­ed in 1888, at one of the Lon­don soirées held by an Amer­i­can Edi­son employ­ee named George Gouraud. The son of French engi­neer François Gouraud, who had intro­duced daguerreo­type pho­tog­ra­phy to the Unit­ed States in the 1830s, he took it upon him­self to bring the phono­graph to Britain. He did so in a top-down man­ner, invit­ing social­ly dis­tin­guished guests to his home for din­ner so that they might thrill to the nov­el­ty of after-din­ner speech­es deliv­ered by machine — and then record their own mes­sages to Edi­son him­self.  “I can only say that I am aston­ished and some­what ter­ri­fied at the results of this evening’s exper­i­ments,” said one of Gouraud’s guests, the com­pos­er Sir Arthur Sul­li­van.

That aston­ish­ment aside, Sul­li­van also admit­ted that he was “ter­ri­fied at the thought that so much hideous and bad music may be put on record for­ev­er.” Many alive today would cred­it him with con­sid­er­able pre­science on that count. But he also under­stood that the phono­graph would pro­duce won­ders, such as the record­ings includ­ed in this video of such nota­bles as four-time Prime Min­is­ter William Glad­stone, Flo­rence Nightin­gale, and Queen Vic­to­ria her­self — at least accord­ing to the con­sen­sus of the schol­ars who’ve scru­ti­nized the high­ly indis­tinct record­ing in ques­tion. Only long after Edis­on’s time would human­i­ty devel­op a record­ing tech­nol­o­gy capa­ble of being replayed again and again with­out degra­da­tion. But giv­en our image of Vic­to­ri­ans, per­haps it’s suit­able that their voic­es should sound ghost­ly.

Relat­ed con­tent:

100-Year-Old Music Record­ings Can Now Be Heard for the First Time, Thanks to New Dig­i­tal Tech­nol­o­gy

Opti­cal Scan­ning Tech­nol­o­gy Lets Researchers Recov­er Lost Indige­nous Lan­guages from Old Wax Cylin­der Record­ings

Down­load 10,000 of the First Record­ings of Music Ever Made, Thanks to the UCSB Cylin­der Audio Archive

Thomas Edison’s 1889 Record­ing of Otto von Bis­mar­ck‎ Dis­cov­ered

The Old­est Voic­es That We Can Still Hear: Hear Audio Record­ings of Ghost­ly Voic­es from the 1800s

Hear the First Record­ing of the Human Voice (1860)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

 

How Car Chase Scenes Have Evolved Over 100 Years

For many a clas­sic action-movie enthu­si­ast, no car chase will ever top the one in Bul­litt. The nar­ra­tor of the Insid­er video above describes it as “the scene that set the stan­dard for all mod­ern car chas­es,” one made “icon­ic part­ly because of the char­ac­ters, but also because of their cars.” The pur­suer dri­ves a Dodge Charg­er, a mus­cle car that “explod­ed in pop­u­lar­i­ty dur­ing the late six­ties in the U.S.,” with a V‑8 engine and rear-wheel dri­ve that made it “basi­cal­ly built for infor­mal drag rac­ing.” The pur­sued, Steve McQueen’s detec­tive pro­tag­o­nist Frank Bul­litt, dri­ves an instant­ly rec­og­niz­able High­land Green Ford Mus­tang, “the first major pony car, a more com­pact, sporty take on the mus­cle car.”

Bul­litt could change the game, as they say, thanks not just to the cars but also the cam­eras avail­able at the time, not least the Arri­flex 35 II. “Small­er and more rugged” than the bulky rigs of ear­li­er gen­er­a­tions, it made it pos­si­ble to shoot on actu­al city streets rather than just stu­dio sets and rear-pro­jec­tion setups. (To get a sense of the dif­fer­ence in feel that result­ed, sim­ply com­pare the Bul­litt chase to the one in Dr. No, the first James Bond pic­ture, from six years before.)

This threw down the gaunt­let before all action film­mak­ers, who over the sub­se­quent decades would take advan­tage of every tech­no­log­i­cal devel­op­ment that could pos­si­bly height­en the thrills of their own car chas­es.

The video also includes vehic­u­lar action movies from The French Con­nec­tion and Van­ish­ing Point to Ronin and Dri­ve. But the most impor­tant devel­op­ment in recent decades actu­al­ly owes to the horse-rac­ing movie Seabis­cuit, whose pro­duc­tion neces­si­tat­ed a rig, now known as “the bis­cuit,” that “makes it look like an actor is doing the dri­ving, while a stunt per­son actu­al­ly steers from the dri­ver’s pod.” Gone are the days when a star like Steve McQueen, a gen­uine rac­er of both motor­cy­cles and cars, could han­dle some of the stunt dri­ving him­self; gone, too, is the era of the mus­cle car not pro­grammed to shut down auto­mat­i­cal­ly when it goes into a drift. But for view­ers in con­stant need of ever more spec­tac­u­lar, tech­ni­cal­ly com­plex, and expen­sive car chas­es, it seems the Fast and the Furi­ous series will always come through.

Relat­ed con­tent:

William Fried­kin, RIP: Why the 80s Action Movie To Live and Die in L.A. Is His “Sub­ver­sive Mas­ter­piece”

The Rev­o­lu­tion­ary Title Sequences and Trail­ers Cre­at­ed by Pablo Fer­ro: Dr. Strangelove, A Clock­work Orange, Stop Mak­ing Sense, Bul­litt & Oth­er Films

The Dark Knight: Anato­my of a Flawed Action Scene

Take a Dri­ve Through 1940s, 50s & 60s Los Ange­les with Vin­tage Through-the-Car-Win­dow Films

Some of Buster Keaton’s Great, Death-Defy­ing Stunts Cap­tured in Ani­mat­ed Gifs

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Built to Last: How Ancient Roman Bridges Can Still Withstand the Weight of Modern Cars & Trucks

A for­eign trav­el­er road-trip­ping across Europe might well feel a wave of trep­i­da­tion before dri­ving a ful­ly loaded mod­ern auto­mo­bile over a more than 2,000-year-old bridge. But it might also be bal­anced out by the under­stand­ing that such a struc­ture has, by def­i­n­i­tion, stood the test of time — and, for those with a grasp of the his­to­ry of engi­neer­ing, that its ancient design­ers would have ensured its capac­i­ty to bear a load far heav­ier than any that would have crossed it in real­i­ty. With no sci­en­tif­ic means of mod­el­ing stress­es, as clas­si­cal-his­to­ry Youtu­ber Gar­rett Ryan explains in the new Told in Stone video above, they just had to build it tough.

Key to that tough­ness were arch­es, “made of heavy blocks laid over a false­work frame until the key­stone was slot­ted into place.” From the late first cen­tu­ry, stonework was sup­ple­ment­ed or replaced by brick and Roman con­crete, a sub­stance much-fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture.

We’ve also cov­ered the Roman bridges you can still cross today: Spain’s Puente de Alcán­tara (from the Ara­bic al-qanţarah, mean­ing “arch”), for exam­ple, which, though crossed by a quar­ter-mil­lion vehi­cles every year, “shows no signs of fail­ing”; or France’s Pont des Marchands, which “has sup­port­ed a neigh­bor­hood of mul­ti-sto­ry shops and hous­es since the Mid­dle Ages.”

But the arch­es of the near­ly 1,000 whol­ly or par­tial­ly sur­viv­ing Roman bridges haven’t done all the work by geom­e­try alone. “The load-bear­ing capac­i­ty of a bridge depend­ed both on the solid­i­ty of its abut­ments and the strength — ‘shear­ing point’ — of its vous­soirs,” or the stones of its arch­es between the key­stone at the top and the springers at the bot­tom. “Since Roman builders carved vous­soirs from the strongest read­i­ly avail­able stone, their bridges tend­ed to be impres­sive­ly sol­id.” You would­n’t want to run a freight train across the Puente de Alcán­tara, but 40-ton trucks are no prob­lem — to say noth­ing of a car filled with lug­gage, a few kids, and even a dog or two.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Roman Roads and Bridges You Can Still Trav­el Today

The Mys­tery Final­ly Solved: Why Has Roman Con­crete Been So Durable?

The Beau­ty & Inge­nu­ity of the Pan­theon, Ancient Rome’s Best-Pre­served Mon­u­ment: An Intro­duc­tion

Why Hasn’t the Pantheon’s Dome Col­lapsed?: How the Romans Engi­neered the Dome to Last 19 Cen­turies and Count­ing

The Roads of Ancient Rome Visu­al­ized in the Style of Mod­ern Sub­way Maps

Roman Archi­tec­ture: A Free Online Course from Yale

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Thomas Edison’s Recordings of Leo Tolstoy: Hear the Voice of the Great Russian Novelist

Born 196 years ago, Russ­ian nov­el­ist Leo Tolstoy’s life (1828–1910) spanned a peri­od of immense social, polit­i­cal, and tech­no­log­i­cal change, par­al­leled in his own life by his rad­i­cal shift from hedo­nis­tic noble­man to the­olo­gian, anar­chist, and veg­e­tar­i­an paci­fist. Though he did not live to see the Russ­ian Rev­o­lu­tion, the nov­el­ist did see Tsar Alexan­der II’s sweep­ing reforms, includ­ing the 1861 Eman­ci­pa­tion order that changed the social char­ac­ter of the coun­try. Near the end of his life, Tol­stoy saw the com­ing of new record­ing tech­nol­o­gy that would rev­o­lu­tion­ize the direc­tion of his own life’s work—telling sto­ries.

In his lat­er years Tol­stoy appeared in the new medi­um of film, which cap­tured his 80th birth­day in 1908, and his funer­al pro­ces­sion two years lat­er. He was the sub­ject of the first col­or pho­to­graph tak­en in Rus­sia (top) also in 1908. And that same year, Tol­stoy made sev­er­al audio record­ings of his voice, on a phono­graph sent to him per­son­al­ly by Thomas Edi­son. You can hear one of those record­ings, “The Pow­er of Child­hood,” made on April 19th, 1908, just above.

You’ll note, of course, that the great author reads in his native lan­guage. Most of the record­ings he made, which he intend­ed for the edi­fi­ca­tion of his coun­try­men, are in Russ­ian. Below, how­ev­er, you can hear him read from his last book, Wise Thoughts For Every Day in Eng­lish, Ger­man, French and Russ­ian. The book col­lects Tolstoy’s favorite pas­sages from thinkers as diverse as Lao-Tzu and Ralph Wal­do Emer­son. As Mike Springer wrote in a pre­vi­ous post on this record­ing, “Tol­stoy reject­ed his great works of fic­tion” as an old man, “believ­ing that it was more impor­tant to give moral and spir­i­tu­al guid­ance to the com­mon peo­ple.” To that end, he made a series of short record­ings, which you can hear at this site, on such sub­jects as art, law, moral­i­ty, pover­ty, non­vi­o­lence, and cap­i­tal pun­ish­ment.

The sto­ry of how Tol­stoy came to make these record­ings is a fas­ci­nat­ing one. Inter­est­ed in the new tech­nol­o­gy, Tol­stoy made his first record­ing in 1895, when, writes The Moscow Times, “an Edi­son rep­re­sen­ta­tive came to Yas­naya Polyana, Tol­stoy’s estate, to record the author’s voice. Those record­ings were tak­en over the bor­der to Berlin, where they lay in an archive until they were brought back to the Sovi­et Union after World War II.” When Stephen Bon­sal, edi­tor of the New York Times learned of Tolstoy’s inter­est in record­ing tech­nol­o­gy in 1907, he promised to send the nov­el­ist an Edi­son phono­graph of his own. Edi­son him­self, hear­ing of this, refused to accept any pay­ment, and per­son­al­ly sent his own machine to Tolstoy’s estate with the engraved mes­sage “A Gift to Count Leo Tol­stoy from Thomas Alva Edi­son.”

Edi­son asked Tol­stoy for many mul­ti-lin­gual record­ings, request­ing “short mes­sages” in Eng­lish and French, “con­vey­ing to the peo­ple of the world some thoughts that would tend to their moral and social advance­ment.” Tol­stoy dili­gent­ly made sev­er­al record­ings, some of which were then shipped to Edi­son in 1908. On Feb­ru­ary 21 of that year, the New York Times pub­lished an arti­cle on the exchange titled “Tolstoy’s Gift to Edi­son. Will Send Record of His Voice—Edison Gave Him a Phono­graph.” The world eager­ly await­ed the world-famous author’s mes­sage to its “civ­i­lized peo­ples.” It seems how­ev­er, that the mes­sage nev­er arrived. Accord­ing to Sput­nik News, the fate of that leg­endary record­ing “has yet to be found out.” Nev­er­the­less, thanks to Edi­son, we have sev­er­al oth­er record­ings of Tolstoy’s very well-pre­served voice, the record of a life lived to the end with fierce con­vic­tion and curios­i­ty.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Leo Tol­stoy Became a Veg­e­tar­i­an and Jump­start­ed the Veg­e­tar­i­an & Human­i­tar­i­an Move­ments in the 19th Cen­tu­ry

The Only Col­or Pic­ture of Tol­stoy, Tak­en by Pho­tog­ra­phy Pio­neer Sergey Prokudin-Gorsky (1908)

Leo Tol­stoy Reads From His Last Major Work in 4 Lan­guages, 1909

Vin­tage Footage of Leo Tol­stoy: Video Cap­tures the Great Nov­el­ist Dur­ing His Final Days

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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