The Speech of Monkeys

The word "drink" appears to be more fixed, both in its form and meaning. I have not yet been able to detect any difference in the sound whether water, milk, or other liquids be desired; but this is quite natural, since they have but little variety in the things they drink.

SOUNDS "WEATHER" AND "LOVE"

The sound which I had thought meant "weather," or in some way alluded to the state of the weather, I am not sure how far that may be relied upon as a separate word. It was so closely connected to the speech of discontent or pain when made by little Dago, that I have not been able since to separate the sounds, and I finally abandoned it as a separate word; but reviewing my work, and recalling the peculiar conduct of this monkey and the conditions attending it, I believe it is safe to say that he had in mind the state of the weather.

The sound which I have translated "love" is only in the sense of firm and ardent friendship. The expressions of love between sexes I have not been able as yet to find with certainty. A few sounds, however, made under certain conditions, I have reason to believe bear upon this subject, but I am not yet ready to announce my opinions thereon.

The "alarm" sound, as I have translated it, has been described; but among the Capuchins I find three kindred words, quite unlike as mere sounds, but closely allied in meaning. The one just mentioned is used under the stress of great fear, or in case of assault. It is a shrill, piercing sound, very loud and very high in pitch. The second word, "e-c-g-k," used only to express apprehension, or as a warning of the approach of a thing they fear or do not like; and the last of these, which is a guttural whisper, is used merely to call attention to the approach of something which the monkey does not fear or dislike, which I have spelt "c-h-i."

I have referred elsewhere, without describing it, to the sound which Nellie used for calling, and which she employed when attempting to dissuade my wife from going out and leaving her alone. It is a peculiar sound, something like a whine, but very plaintive and suggestive. I cannot represent it in letters.

THE CAPUCHIN TONGUE

There are many sounds about which I am yet in doubt, and some shades of meaning are not clear, but these sounds described include the greater part of my knowledge of the Capuchin tongue, and I shall now proceed to the sounds of some of the other monkeys.

Standing on this frail bridge of speech, I see into that broad field of life and thought which lies beyond the confines of our care, and into which, through the gates that I have now unlocked, may soon be borne the sunshine of human intellect. What prophet now can foretell the relations which may yet obtain between the human race and those inferior forms which fill some place in the design, and execute some function in the economy of nature?

A knowledge of their language cannot injure man, and may conduce to the good of others, because it would lessen man's selfishness, widen his mercy, and restrain his cruelty. It would not place man more remote from his divinity, nor change the state of facts which now exist. Their speech is the only gateway to their minds, and through it we must pass if we would learn their secret thoughts and measure the distance from mind to mind.

CHAPTER XI

The Word for Food in the Rhesus Dialect – The Rhesus Sound of Alarm – The Dialect of the White-face – Dolly Varden, "Uncle Remus," and others.

From a number of sounds uttered by the Rhesus monkeys, I finally selected the word which, for many reasons, I believed meant food, and was the equivalent in meaning to that word in the Capuchin tongue. The phonetic character of the words differs very widely. The sound uttered by the Rhesus, as nearly as I can represent it by letters, is "nqu-u-w." The "u" sound is about the same as in the Capuchin word, but on close examination with the phonograph it appears to be uttered in five syllables very slightly separated, while the ear only detects two.

One of the most unique of my experiments I made in Central Park, in the autumn of 1891. I secured a very fine phonograph record of the food sound of the Rhesus monkeys belonging to the Park. During the following night there arrived at the Park a shipment of Rhesus monkeys, just from their home in the east of Asia. There were seven of these new monkeys, three adult females and four babies, one of whom was left an orphan by the death of its mother in her passage across the ocean. At my request the superintendent had these monkeys stored in the vacant room in the upper story of the Old Armoury building. They had never seen the monkeys in Central Park, nor had they ever been brought near enough to the monkey-house for them to learn by any means that any other monkeys were about. About sunrise I repaired to this room, where I had my phonograph placed in order, and I enjoined those who were present, by special permission, not to do anything to attract the attention of the monkeys, nor under any condition to show them any food or anything to drink. Having arranged my phonograph, I delivered to them the sounds contained on my cylinder which I had recorded on the day preceding. Up to this time not a sound had been uttered by any inmate of the shipping cage. The instant my phonograph began to reproduce the record, the seven new monkeys began to answer vociferously. After having delivered this record to them, I gave them time to become quiet again. I showed them some carrots and apples, on seeing which they began to utter the same sounds which they had uttered before, and this time I secured a good record of their sounds to compare with the others.

RHESUS MONKEYS

The alarm-sound as given by the Rhesus is very energetic, but not so shrill nor sharp as that of the Capuchin, nor have I discovered more than one such sound. As they are not of a high order of intelligence, nor kindly disposed unless kept in fear, I have not given them a great amount of study, but their sounds come more closely to the range of the human voice than do the sounds of the Cebus, which I regard as the Caucasian of monkeys.

The Rhesus is not very intelligent, but when reared in captivity appears to be capable of some degree of domestication. The adult reared in a wild state shows many phases of vicious and uncongenial temper. When well cared for, they are rather hardy and undergo training quite well. They are not a handsome animal, being of a faded tan colour on the back, merged into a yellowish white on the less exposed parts. They have large cheek-pouches which, when not filled with food, allow the skin on the neck and jaws to hang in folds, which give them an appearance of extreme emaciation, and when full of food they are so distended as to present rather an unpleasant aspect.

The sounds which the Rhesus utters in anger are harsh and unmusical, while their sound for food is soft and sympathetic, and I have made a machine which imitates it quite well. The Rhesus belong to the genus Macacus, one of the oldest and largest of all Simian genera.

I have found the word in the dialect of the white-faced Cebus which corresponds in value to those sounds described in the dialects of the Capuchin and Rhesus monkeys meaning food, but I cannot give the faintest idea of the sound by any combination of letters, nor have I as yet devised any means by which I can imitate it. I recorded this sound on the phonograph more than a year ago, but only within the last few months have been able to tell its meaning.

SOUND OF DANGER

Another sound which is made by this species to express apprehension of remote danger, such as an approaching footstep or some unusual sound, I have also learned. It is very much the same phonetically as that sound which he utters in case of great and sudden alarm, but uttered with much less energy. It resembles slightly the alarm-sound of the Capuchin, but up to this time I have not been able to make a good record of it.

Another sound which is peculiar to this species I think is used as a kind of salutation or expression of friendship, which phonetically is quite unlike the corresponding sound in any other dialect that I have studied.

I must mention Dolly Varden, who belongs to this species, and with whom I was at one time on very warm terms of friendship. Dolly was very fond of me, and would laugh and play with me by the hour. Her laughter was very human-like, except that it was silent, and in all our play during the lapse of some weeks she never uttered a sound, not even so much as a growl, although I tried by every possible means to induce her to talk. It has occurred to me since that time that she may have been deaf and dumb, but I did not think of testing her on these points while I had an opportunity. It is not usual for monkeys to laugh in silence, although they frequently laugh aloud like human beings; but it is not a common thing for them to remain silent at all times and under all conditions. Dolly was good-natured, playful, and always showed every sign of pleasure at my visits.

"UNCLE REMUS"

In Central Park there is a monkey of this species which I call "Uncle Remus." He is quite fond of me, and, for my amusement, he always wants to whip a little baby monk in the same cage with him whenever I go to visit them. This species belongs to the same genus as the Capuchin, but they differ in mental calibre as widely as the Caucasian differs from the Negro; but in this case the colours are reversed. I have seen a few fairly intelligent white-faces and a great many very stupid Capuchins, but, to strike an average from a great number of each kind, they will be found very widely separated in brain power.

The white-faced Cebus always has a languid expression, and looks like some poor, decrepit old man, who has borne a great burden of care through a long life, and finds his toil and patience ill-requited and is now awaiting his last call. He always has a sad face, and looks as if his friends were false. His type of speech is very far inferior to that of the Capuchin, and I do not regard him as a good subject for my work.

JIM AND THE MANGABY

I have learned the food sound in the dialect of the sooty Mangaby, but I have not been able to record it sufficiently well to study; but it is one of the most peculiar sounds in the whole range of Simian speech. The phonetic elements are nearly like "wuh-uh-uh," but the manner in which it is delivered is very singular. It appears to be intermixed with a peculiar clucking sound, and each sound seems independent of the other, although so closely joined in their utterance as to sound almost like they were uttered simultaneously by separate means. It is a deep guttural, below the middle pitch of the human voice, while the clucking element appears much higher in pitch, and the whole sound is marked with a strong tremolo effect. The syllables are uttered in rapid succession, and this peculiar sound under different conditions is uttered in at least three different degrees of pitch about an octave apart, but the contour appears to me the same in each. This species talks but little, is very shy, makes few friends, and is afraid of the phonograph; hence I have never been able to make a good record of its voice. I was cultivating the friendship of Jim, who recently died in Central Park, and we were getting on the best of terms; but the little Mangaby that survives him is very shy and suspicious. Immediately after Jim's death, however, when I would visit the Garden, she would always jump on the perch and take the same position that Jim had occupied whenever I would feed him. During his lifetime, she always kept her distance and never would take anything out of my hand, because she was afraid of him; but as soon as he was out of the way she assumed his place, and would utter the same sound that he had uttered at my approach. She evidently was aware of the fact that Jim and I were friends, that I always gave him something good to eat at that particular place in the cage, and that he always sat in a certain position when I gave it to him. I do not regard this species as very intelligent, nor their language as being of a high type; but they have a very human-like face, almost without hair, and very large and expressive eyes. They abound in West Africa, and have been colonised with success in the island of Mauritius; they are not very common in captivity, but much more so than some other species of less interest.

CHAPTER XII

Atelles or Spider Monkeys – The Common Macaque – Java Monkeys, and what they say – A Happy Family.

I have caught one sound from the spider monkey by which I have been able to attract the attention of others of the same species, but I am as yet uncertain about its meaning. I do not believe that it has any reference to food; but I think perhaps it is a term of friendship, or a sound of endearment. One reason for this belief is, that I have heard it used on several occasions when a monkey of this kind would see its image in a mirror. I have used the sound in Washington, Philadelphia, and Atlanta, and induced the monkey addressed to respond to it and come to me. I almost concluded at one time that this species was nearly dumb, until I saw one enraged by a green monkey that occupied an adjoining cage. On this occasion she raised her voice to an extremely high pitch, and uttered a sound having great volume and significance. This she repeated several times, and it was the first time I had ever seen a spider monkey show any sign of resentment. On another occasion, where this same specimen saw a brilliant peacock near the window by her cage, the sounds which she made at that strange object were loud, clear, and varied.

I have read with surprise an account of a spider monkey which Dr. Gardner had with him in his travels through South America. He describes it as the most intelligent of all monkeys, but I cannot believe that his experience with monkeys was sufficient to rank him as an authority on that subject. I do not pretend, however, to know all that there is to be known concerning this species, but so far as my study of them goes they scarcely laugh, cry, or show any sign of emotion. They do not usually resent anything; thus they are harmless and timid. Their long, lean, half-clad limbs look like the ghost of poverty, and their slow, cautious movements like decrepitude begging alms. They would be objects of pity if they only had sense enough to know how Nature has slighted them.

"JESS"

I have recently received a letter from Mr. A. E. McCall, of Bath, New York, enclosing a photograph of a monkey of this kind, by the name of "Jess." The gentleman tells me that he has been giving some time to the study of the actions and language of this monkey, and assures me that it is very docile, and follows him like a dog, and kindly offers to make such experiments with it as I may suggest, by which to aid me in the pursuit of my own researches, and I shall take advantage of his kind offer.

I am aware that there are exceptions to all rules, and I am not disposed to deprive the spider monkey of the place he may deserve in the scale of Simian life by reason of his intellect or speech; but as this book is a record of what I know, and not what I have heard of, I shall for the present be compelled to place the spider monkey very far down in the scale of intellect and speech.

The common Macaque is a strong, well-built monkey, of a dark grey colour, with a short stubby tail. He has but few friends, and at times appears to regret having any at all. He is quite active, energetic, and aggressive. He endures captivity well, but as a rule never becomes quite tame or trustworthy. His speech is of a low type, but he has a very singular expression of the mouth, which seems to indicate friendship. In fact, there are several different species of the genus Macacus that use this peculiar movement of the lips. They thrust the head forward and lower it slightly, and in this position work their lips as if talking with the greatest possible energy, but without uttering a sound. They do not do this for food, but I have seen them do it to their image in the glass, and have had them do so with me a great number of times. I have been told by some that this is meant as a sign of anger or assault, but my own observations tend to attribute to it exactly the reverse of this meaning. Occasionally, when I have offered them food, I have observed them do this; but I do not think it referred to the food, unless it was intended as a vote of thanks. The first monkey whose voice I ever captured on the phonograph belonged to this tribe; he is still in the Washington collection, and bears the name of "Prince," under which name he may go down to history as the first monkey whose speech was ever recorded. But whatever his fame may become on that account, I do not think he will ever justly obtain the reputation of being an amiable monkey.

JAVA MONKEYS

Among the Java monkeys are several varieties which make very good pets. They show a fair degree of intelligence and docility, and are not generally very vicious. I have not succeeded in making any very good records of these monkeys, although I have observed, without the aid of the phonograph, that they have one or two very distinct and well-marked sounds. I have not up to this time attempted to differentiate their sounds, but in a general way have interpreted the meanings of one or two groups of them, especially those of a friendly character. I may with propriety remark here, that in all the different tongues of monkeys there appear to be certain words which are much more significant, of a much better phonetic type, than the others, and occur much more frequently among their sounds. This appears to be true of the speech or sounds of all the lower animals.

MONKEYS RECOGNISE BY SIGHT

In a former chapter I have described the happy little family in Central Park, which consisted of the five little brown cousins, only a few months ago; but death has reduced their number to two. In this connection I shall mention a very important fact concerning the use of the natural senses of these animals. I have several times been assured that monkeys depended more upon their sense of smell than upon that of sight as a means of recognition, and that in this respect they were very much like the canines. I have made frequent tests of the power of their senses, and am prepared to say with certainty that such is not the case. When I visit the Park, I frequently enter at Sixty-fourth Street and Fifth Avenue, at which place there is a flight of stairs leading from the street down to a large plazza in front of the Old Armoury; and something more than a hundred feet from the foot of the stairway, and nearly at right angles to it, is a window opening into the monkey-house by the cage occupied by these particular monkeys. When I descend the stairway and come within view of this window, they frequently see me as I reach the plazza, and the keeper always knows of my approach by the conduct of the monkeys, who recognise me the instant I come in sight at that distance. At other times I have approached the house from another direction, and come within a few feet of their cage, where I have stood for some time, in order to ascertain whether they were aware of my presence; and on a few occasions have slipped into the house with the crowd, and they did not detect my presence except by sight. It is evident, if they depended upon the sense of smell, that they would have discovered my presence when so near them, although they could not see me. But no matter what the condition of the weather, or how many people are present, the instant one of them sees me he spreads the news, and every inmate of the cage rushes to the window and begins to scream at the top of his voice. If their sense of smell was such as to enable them to detect my presence as a dog would, it is reasonable also that the monkey which possessed the most sensitive organs would have been the first to detect it in each case; whereas, sometimes one monkey, and sometimes another, made the discovery. It is my belief, however, that their sense of smell is much more acute than that of man, but far less so than that of most other animals, especially the dog. HEARING VERY DELICATE The sense of hearing in these animals is very delicate, as may be seen from the account of Nellie discovering my footsteps on the lower stairway, and as I have witnessed in scores of other cases. The same is true also of their sight; their eyes are like a photo-camera, nothing ever escapes them. I think their organs of taste are also quite sensitive, as I have made some tests from time to time, and find them very hard to deceive. The sense of touch, which is rather obtuse in most animals, is much more acute in these. I have frequently interlaced my fingers with those of some person whom they dislike, and extending the hand towards them, they rarely make a mistake by getting hold of the wrong finger, and yet it has frequently occurred that they could not see the hands at all, and had to depend alone upon the sense of touch. In cases where the hands were very nearly the same size they were not able to select the fingers so readily, but where a lady's hand was used, or that of a boy, the selection was made without hesitancy and without error. I have tried this experiment a great many times with a view to ascertaining to some extent the delicacy of their sense of touch. Another fact that I may mention is, that they do not habitually smell articles of food or other things given to them; but they depend chiefly upon their sight for finding and their taste for choosing their food. My opinion is, that the sense of smell does not play an important part in these affairs. I may add, too, that, in the Cebus, his tail is perhaps the most sensitive organ of touch, although it is not used in this capacity to any great extent. He is generally very watchful over this useful member, because it serves him in so many ways, and I think perhaps it is safe to say that the tail is the last part of the monkey that ever becomes tame.

CHAPTER XIII

The Extent of my Experiments – Apes and Baboons – Miscellaneous Records of Sound – The Vocal Index.

In quest of the great secret of speech, I have pursued my investigations chiefly in the direction of learning one tongue, but incidentally I have made many detours, and I have recorded the sounds of many other forms of the animal kingdom, besides primates. I have examined the phonation of lions, tigers, leopards, cats, dogs, birds of many kinds, and the human voice in speech, music, and laughter. Besides these, I have examined various musical sounds, especially of the pipe and whistle kinds.

More than a year ago I made some splendid records of the sounds of the two chimpanzees in the Cincinnati collection. I have not had the opportunity to study these apes themselves, as I desired to do, since they are kept so closely confined in a glass house, and for ever under the eye of their keeper, which conditions are not favourable to the best results. I am not prepared therefore to give much detail concerning their speech; but from a careful study of one cylinder containing a record of their sounds, I was able to discern as many as seven different phones, all of which come within the scope of the human vocal organs. I learned one of these sounds, and on a subsequent visit to Cincinnati I succeeded in attracting the attention of the female, and eliciting from her a response. She would come to the lattice door of the inner cage by which I was standing, and when I would utter the sound she would press her face against the door of the cage and answer it with a like sound. The male, however, did not appear to notice it with any degree of concern. I have no idea what the sound meant, and my opportunities have not been such that I could translate it with the remotest degree of certainty. STUDIES IN TROPICAL AFRICA These apes will be one of the chief objects of my studies in tropical Africa, as I believe them to possess a higher type of speech even than the gorilla. In this opinion, which I reached from the study of other sounds and the types of skull to which they belonged, I am not alone: Mr. Paul Du Chaillu, Mr. E. J. Glave, and others who have seen both of these apes in their native habitat, agree with me on this point. I am aware that this view is not in strict accord with that of Professor Huxley, who assigns the gorilla the highest place next to man in the order of Nature, and the chimpanzee next below him. I shall not here attempt to discuss the question with so high an authority, and I must confess that the vocal index is not yet so well defined that it may be relied upon in classifying apes. One aim I have in view is to study the gorilla and chimpanzee side by side in their native wilds, and to record, if possible, the sounds of their voices in a wild state. From the study of the sounds I have made, I feel confident that all the vocal sounds made by these apes may be uttered by the human vocal organs.