Listen To The Victorians


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.

 





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