The Speech of Monkeys

CHAPTER III

Monkeys have favourite Colours – Can distinguish Numbers and Quantity – Music and Art very limited.

In order to ascertain whether monkeys have any choice of colours or not, I selected some bright candies, balls, marbles, bits of ribbon, &c. I took a piece of pasteboard, and on it placed a few bright-coloured bits of candy, which I offered to a monkey and watched to see whether he would select a certain colour or not. In this experiment I generally used two colours at a time, and changed their places from time to time in order to determine whether he selected the colour by design or accident. After having determined which of two colours he preferred, I substituted a third colour for the one which he cared least for, and continued thus until I exhausted the list of bright colours. By changing the arrangement of the objects a great number of times, it could be ascertained with comparative certainty whether the colour was his preference or not. I find that all monkeys do not select the same colour, nor does the same monkey invariably select the same colour at different times; but I think, as a rule, that bright green is a favourite colour with the Capuchin, and their second choice is white. In a few cases, white seemed to be their preference. I have sometimes used paper wads of various colours, or bits of candy of the same flavour rolled in various coloured papers. They seemed to choose the same colours in selecting their toys. I have sometimes used artificial flowers, and find, as a rule, that they will select a flower having many green leaves about it. It may be that they associate this colour with some green food which they are fond of, and consequently that they are influenced by this in selecting other things. I kept a cup for a monkey to drink milk from, on the sides of which were some brilliant flowers and green leaves, and she would frequently quit drinking the milk to play with the flowers on the cup, and seemed never able to understand why she could not get hold of them. In one test I had a board about two feet long, and laid a few pieces of white and pink candies in four places on it. The monkey took the white from each pile before touching the pink, except in one instance it took the pink piece from one pile. I repeated this test many times. In another test I took a white paper ball in one hand and a pink one in the other, and held out my hands to the monkey, who selected the white one nearly every time, although I changed hands with the balls from time to time. These experiments were mostly confined to the Cebus monkeys, but a few of them were made with Macaques. They seem to be attracted generally by all brilliant colours, but when reduced to a choice between two, such seems to be their tastes.

In my efforts to ascertain their mathematical skill, I would take in one hand a little platter containing one nut, or one small bit of something to eat, such as a piece of apple or carrot cut into a small cube. In the other hand I held a small platter, with two or three such articles of the same size and colour, and holding them just out of reach of the monkey and changing them from hand to hand, I observed that the monkey would try to reach the one containing the greater number. He readily discerned which platter contained one and which contained two or three pieces. I was long in doubt whether he distinguished by number or by quantity, and my belief was that it was by quantity only. I first determined that he could tell singular from plural, by making the one piece larger and sometimes of a different shape, and from his choice of these I quite satisfied my own mind that he could distinguish by number. THE TEST WITH MARBLES I next set out to find how far in numerals his acquirements reached, and after a great number of indecisive trials I fell upon this simple plan: I took a little square wooden box and made a hole in one side just large enough for the monkey to withdraw his hand with a marble in it. I took three marbles of the same size and colour, and gave them to the monkey to play with. After a time I put the marbles in a box and allowed him to take them out, which he could do by taking out only one at a time. I repeated this several times, so as to impress his mind with the number of marbles in the box. I then concealed one of the marbles and returned two to the box. On taking them out, he evidently missed the absent one, felt in the box, arose, and looked around where he had been sitting. Then he would put his hand into the box again and look at me; but failing to find it, he became reconciled, and began to play with the two. When he had become content with the two, I abstracted one of them, and when he failed to find it he began to search for it, and seemed quite unwilling to proceed without it. He would put the one back into the box and take it out again, as if in hope that it might find the other. I helped him to look for the missing marbles, and, of course, soon found them. When he learned that I could find the lost marbles, he would appeal to me as soon as he missed them, and in several instances he would take his little black fingers and open my lips to see if I had concealed them in my mouth, the place where all monkeys conceal what they wish to keep in safety from other monkeys, who never venture to put their fingers into one another's mouth, and when any article is once lodged in a monkey's mouth it is safe from the reach of all the tribe. I repeated this until I felt quite sure of the ability of my subject to count three, and I then increased the number of marbles to four. When I would abstract one of them, sometimes he seemed to miss it, or at least to be in doubt, but would soon proceed with his play and not worry himself about it; yet he rarely failed to show that he was aware that something was wrong. Whether he missed one from four, or only acted on general principles, I do not know; but that he missed one from three was quite evident.

I may here add that there is a great difference in different specimens, and their tastes vary like those of human beings. The same idea is much clearer to some monkeys than it is to others, and a choice of colours much more definite; but I think that all of them assign to different numbers a difference of value. Some are talkative and others taciturn. I think I may state with safety that the Cebus is the most intelligent and talkative of all the monkeys I have known; that the Old World monkeys, as a group, are more taciturn and less intelligent than the New World monkeys, but I do not mean to include the anthropoid apes in this remark.

As a test of their taste for music or musical sounds, I took three little bells, which I suspended by three strings, one end of which was tied to a button. The bells were all alike, except that from two of them I had removed the clappers. I dropped the bells through the meshes of the cage about a foot apart, and allowed the monkey to play with them. I soon discovered that he was attracted by the one which contained the clapper. He played with it, and soon became quite absorbed in it. I attracted his attention to another part of the cage with some food, and while he was thus diverted I changed the position of the bells by withdrawing and dropping them through other meshes. On his return he would go to the place he had left, and, of course, get a bell with no clapper in it. He would drop this and take another, until he found the one with the clapper, which showed clearly that the sound was a part of the attraction. I have repeated to monkeys many musical records on the phonograph, but frequently they show no sign of concern, while at other times they display some interest. It may be, however, that music, as we understand it, is somewhat too high for them. Musical sounds seem to attract and afford them pleasure, but they do not appreciate melody or rhythm. As monkeys readily discern the larger of two pieces of food from the smaller, and by the aid of concrete things can count a limited number, I feel justified in saying that they have the first principles of mathematics as dealing with numbers and quantity in a concrete form. Their ability to distinguish colours and their selection thereof, would indicate that they possess the first rudiment of art as dealing with colour. And the fact that they are attracted in a slight degree by musical sounds shows that they possess the germ from which music itself is born. I must not be understood to claim that they possess anything more than the mere germ from which such faculties might have been evolved. I do not think that they have any names for numbers, colours or quantities, nor do I think that they possess an abstract idea of these things, except in the feeblest degree; but as the concrete must have preceded the abstract idea in the development of human reason, it impresses me that these creatures are now in a condition such as man has once passed through in the course of his evolution; and it is not difficult to understand how such feeble faculties may develop into the very highest degree of strength and usefulness by constant use and culture.

We find in them the rudiments from which all the faculties possessed by man could easily develop, including thought, reason, speech, and the moral and social traits of man. In brief, they appear to have at least the raw material out of which is made the most exalted attributes of man, and I shall not contest with them the right of such possession.

CHAPTER IV

Pedro's Speech Recorded – Delivered to Puck through the Phonograph – Little Darwin learns a new Word.

In the Washington collection there is a little Capuchin by the name of Pedro. When I first visited this bright little monk he occupied a cage in common with several other monkeys of different kinds. All of them seemed to impose upon little Pedro, and a young spider monkey in the cage found special delight in catching him by the tail and dragging him around the floor of the cage. I interfered on behalf of Pedro, and drove the spider monkey away. On account of this, Pedro soon began to look upon me as his benefactor, and when he would see me he would scream and beg for me to come to him. I induced the keeper to place him in a small cage to himself, and this he seemed to appreciate very much. When I would go to record his sounds on the phonograph, I held him in one hand, while he would take the tube in his tiny black hands, hold it close up to his mouth, and talk into it just like a good little boy who knew what to do and how to do it. He would sometimes laugh and always chatter to me as long as he could see me. He would sit on my hand and kiss my cheeks, put his mouth up to my ear and chatter just as though he knew what my ears were for. He was quite fond of the head-keeper and also of the director, but he entertained a great dislike for one of the assistant-keepers, and he has very often told me some very bad things about that man, but I could not understand them. I shall long remember how this dear little monk would cuddle up under my chin, and try so hard to make me understand some sad story which seemed to be the burden of his life. He readily understood the sounds of his own speech which I repeated to him, and I have made some of the best records of his voice that I have ever succeeded in making of any monkey, some of which I have preserved up to this time. They present a wide range of sounds, and I have studied them with special care and pleasure because I knew that they were addressed to me in person; and being aware that the little creature was uttering these sounds to me with the hope that I would understand them, I was more anxious to learn just what he really said to me in this record than if it had contained only some casual remark not addressed to me. This little Simian was born in the Amazon Valley in Brazil, and was named for the late Emperor.

A short time ago I borrowed from a dealer in Washington a little Capuchin called Puck, and had him sent to my apartments, where I kept a phonograph. I placed the cage in front of the machine upon which I had adjusted the horn, and had placed the record of my little friend Pedro. I concealed myself in an adjoining room, where I could watch the conduct of my subject through a small hole in the door. I had a string attached to the lever of the machine and drawn taut through another hole in the door, so that I could start the machine at any desired moment, and at the same time avoid attracting the attention of the monkey, either by my presence or by allowing him to see anything move. After a time, when everything was quiet, I set the machine in motion and treated him to a phonographic recital by little Pedro. This speech was distinctly delivered through the horn to Puck, from whose actions it was evident that he recognised it as the voice of one of his tribe. He looked at the horn in surprise and made a sound or two, glanced around the room and again uttered a couple of sounds as he retired from the horn, apparently somewhat afraid. Again the horn delivered some exclamations in a pure Capuchin dialect, which Puck seemed to regard as sounds of some importance. He cautiously advanced and made a feeble response, but a quick, sharp sound from the horn seemed to startle him, and failing to find any trace of a monkey, except the sound of a voice, he looked at the horn with evident suspicion, and scarcely ventured to answer any sound it made. When I had delivered to him the contents of the record I entered the room again, and this seemed to afford him some relief.

A little later I adjusted my apparatus for another trial, and this time I hung a small mirror just above the mouth of the horn. Then retiring again from the room I left him to examine his new surroundings, and he soon discovered the new monkey in the glass and began to caress and chatter to it. After a while I started the phonograph again by means of the string, and when the horn began to deliver its Simian oration it appeared to disconcert and perplex Puck. He would look at the image in the glass, then he would look into the horn; he would retire with a feeble grunt and a kind of inquisitive grin, showing his little white teeth, and acting as though in doubt whether to regard the affair as a joke, or to treat it as a grim and scientific fact. His voice and actions were exactly like those of a child, declaring in words that he was not afraid, but betraying fear in every act, and finally blending his feelings into a genuine cry. Puck did not cry, but the evidence of fear made the grin on his face rather ghostly. Again he would approach the mirror, then listen to the sounds which came from the horn, and it appeared from his conduct that there was a conflict somewhere. It was evident that he did not believe that the monkey which he saw in the glass was making the sounds which came from the horn. He repeatedly put his mouth to the glass, and caressed the image which he saw there, and at the same time showed a grave suspicion and some concern about the one which he heard in the horn, and tried to keep away from it as much as possible. His conduct in this case was a source of surprise to me, as the sounds contained in the record which I had repeated to him were all uttered in a mood of anxious, earnest entreaty, which to me seemed to contain no sound of anger, warning, or alarm, but which, on the contrary, I had interpreted as a kind of love speech, full of music and tenderness. I had not learned the exact meaning of any one of the sounds contained in this cylinder, but had ascribed in a collective and general way such a meaning to this speech. But from Puck's conduct I was led to believe that it was a general complaint of some kind against those monkeys in that other cage who had made life a burden to little Pedro. One thing was clear to my mind, and that is that Puck interpreted the actions of the monkey which he saw in the glass to mean one thing, and the sounds which he heard from the horn to mean quite another.

I do not think that their language is capable of shaping sentences into narrative or giving any detail in a complaint, for I have never seen anything yet among them which would justify one in ascribing to them so high a type of speech; but in terms of general grievance it may have conveyed to Puck the idea of a monkey in distress, and hence his desire to avoid it; while the image in the glass presented to him a picture of his own mood, and he therefore had no cause to shun it. I do think, however, that the present form of speech used by monkeys is developed far above a mere series of grunts and groans, and that some species among them have a much more copious and expressive form of speech than others. From many experiments with the phonograph, I am prepared to say with certainty that some have much higher phonetic types than others. I have traced some slight inflections which I think beyond a doubt modify the values of their sounds. I find that some monkeys do not make some of these inflections at all, although the phonation of a species is generally uniform in other respects. In some cases it seems to me that the inflections differ slightly in the same species, but long and constant association seems to unify these dialects in some degree, very much the same as like causes blend and unify the dialects of human speech. I have found one instance in which a Capuchin had acquired two sounds which strictly belonged to the tongue of the white-faced Cebus. I was surprised when I heard him utter the sounds, and thought at first that they were common to the speech of both varieties; but on inquiry I found that he had been confined in a cage with the white-face for nearly four years, and hence my belief that he acquired them during that time.

The most remarkable case which has come under my observation is one in which a young white-face has acquired the sound which means food in the Capuchin tongue. This event occurred under my own eyes. I regard this matter as so noteworthy and attended by such conditions as to show that the monkey had a motive in learning the sound, that I shall relate the case in detail.

In the room where the monkeys were kept by a dealer in Washington, there was a cage which contained a young white-faced Cebus of rather more than average intelligence. He was a quiet, sedate, and thoughtful little monk, whose grey hair and beard gave him quite a venerable aspect, and for this reason I called him Darwin. From some cause unknown to me he was afraid of me, and I showed him but little attention. On the same shelf and in an adjacent cage lived the little Capuchin, Puck. The cages were only separated by an open wire partition, through which they could easily see and hear each other. For some weeks I visited Puck almost daily, and in response to his sound for food I always supplied him with some nuts, banana, or other food. I never gave him any of these things to eat unless he would ask me for them in his own speech. On one of my visits my attention was attracted by little Darwin, who was uttering a strange sound which I had never before heard one of his species utter. I did not recognise the sound at first, but very soon discovered that it was intended to imitate the sound of the Capuchin, in response to which I always gave Puck some nice morsel of food. Darwin had undoubtedly observed that this sound made by Puck was always rewarded with something good to eat, and his evident motive was to secure a like reward. After this I always gave him some food in acknowledgment of his efforts, and I observed from day to day that he improved in making this sound, until at last it could scarcely be detected from the sound made by Puck. This was accomplished within a period of less than six weeks from my first visit. In this case, at least, I have seen one step taken by a monkey in learning the tongue of another. This was most interesting to me in view of the fact that I had long believed, and had announced as my belief, that no monkey ever acquired the sounds made by another species, or, indeed, ever tried to do so. I admit, however, that this one instance alone is sufficient to cause me to recede from a conclusion thus rendered untenable, and the short time in which this one feat was accomplished would indicate that the difficulty was not so great as I had regarded it. SPEECH USUALLY LIMITED I still regard it as a rule, however, that monkeys do not learn each other's speech, but the rule is not without exceptions. I have observed, and called attention to the fact, that when two monkeys of different species are caged together, that each one will learn to understand the speech of the other, but does not try to speak it as a rule. When he replies at all, it is always in his own vernacular. I wish to impress the fact, that monkeys do not generally carry on a connected conversation. Their speech is usually limited to a single sound or remark, which is replied to in the same manner; and to suppose that their conversations are elaborate or of a highly social character, is to go beyond the bounds of reason. This is the respect in which the masses fail to understand the real nature of the speech of monkeys or other animals.

CHAPTER V

Five little Brown Cousins: Mickie, Nemo, Dodo, Nigger, and McGinty – Nemo apologises to Dodo.

During the past winter there lived in Central Park a bright, fine, little monkey by the name of Mickie. He did not belong to the Park, but was merely kept as a guest of the city during the absence of his master in Europe. Mickie is a well-built, robust, good-natured monkey of the Capuchin variety. He does not talk much except when he wants food or drink, but he and I are the best of friends, and I frequently go into his cage to have a romp with him and his four little cousins.

When I first began to visit the Park in the fall of 1891, Mickie showed a disposition to cultivate my acquaintance, and as it ripened into a friendship day by day, we found great pleasure in each other's society. As the monkey-house was open to the public at nine o'clock in the morning, I had to make my calls at sunrise or thereabouts, in order to avoid the visitors who daily throng this building.

In this cage was kept another little boarder of the same species, which belonged to Mr. G. Hilton Scribner, of Yonkers. The keeper did not know the name or anything of the past history of this little stranger, and for want of some identity and a name I called him Nemo. He was a timid, taciturn little fellow, quite intelligent, and possessed of an amount of diplomacy equal to that of some human beings. He was the smallest monkey in the cage, on which account he was somewhat shy of the others. He was thoughtful, peaceable, but full of "guile." He sought on all occasions to keep on the best terms with Mickie, to whom he would toady like a sycophant. He would put his little arms about Mickie's neck and hang on to him in the most affectionate manner. He would follow him like a shadow, and stay by him like a last hope. If anything ever aroused the temper of Mickie it was sure to make Nemo mad too; if Mickie was diverted and would laugh, Nemo would laugh also if he was suffering with a toothache. He was as completely under the control of Mickie as the curl in Mickie's tail. When I first began to visit them Nemo would see Mickie bite my fingers while we were playing, and he supposed it was done in anger. Nemo never lost a chance to bite my fingers, which he would always do with all his might, but his little teeth were not strong enough to hurt me very much. He would only do this after seeing Mickie bite me, and he did not evince any anger in the act, but appeared to do so merely as a duty. He would sneak up to my hands and bite me unawares; then he would run to Mickie and put his arm about his neck just as you have seen some boys do when trying to curry favour with a larger boy. On one occasion while in the cage with them he slipped up to me and bit my finger, for which I kindly boxed his little ears. I would then give Mickie my finger and allow him to bite it, after doing which I slapped him gently and then give it to him again. I would then allow Nemo to bite my finger, and if he bit it too hard I would slap him again, and in this manner soon taught him to understand that Mickie only bit me in fun, and he evidently learned that this was a fact. He did not appear, however, to catch the point clearly or see any reason therefor, but on all occasions thereafter he would take my finger in his mouth and hold it in his teeth, which were scarcely closed upon it. This he would do for a minute at a time without having the least apparent motive except that he had seen Mickie do so. MICKIE'S ATTACHMENT Often while holding my finger in this manner, with a look of seriousness worthy of a supreme judge, he would roll his little eyes at me in the most inquiring manner, as if to say "how is that"? When he once realised that Mickie was so much attached to me, Nemo always showed a desire to be on friendly terms with me; and when I would go into the cage to play with Mickie and McGinty, he always wanted to be counted in the game. When I had anything for them to eat he always wanted a seat of honour at the table, and he would at times want to fight for me when the other monkeys got too friendly. Poor little fellow, he is now dead, but the image of his cute little face and original character are deeply imprinted on my mind. I was never able to secure a record of the sounds of his little voice, though I have often heard him talk. He had a soft musical voice, and great power of facial expression.