THE EMOTIONS
Careful observation and investigation lead me to believe that, in many
of the higher animals, all the fundamental emotions, such as love, hate,
fear, anger, jealousy, etc., are present. Books on natural history
fairly teem with data in support of this proposition. Such authorities
as Romanes,[41] Darwin,[42] Semper[43] and Hartman[44] give instance
after instance in support of the dictum that the emotional nature of
many of the higher animals is highly developed.
[41] Romanes, _Animal Intelligence_.
[42] Darwin, _Descent of Man_.
[43] Semper, _Animal Life_.
[44] Hartmann, _Anthropoid Apes_.
Man has been called the Laughing Animal, because, so it has been
claimed, he alone of all animals expresses emotion through the agency of
the smile or through laughter.
This is a grave mistake, for both the dog and the monkey, in certain
instances, have been known to express pleasure through the agency of the
smile. And, in the case of certain monkeys, the action of the facial
muscles was accompanied by cachinnatory sounds.
"Tom," a capuchin monkey of the St. Louis, Missouri, zoölogical garden
(Fair Grounds), was quite a noted "laugher," and his facial expressions
as well as the sounds he uttered were so evidently laughter, pure and
simple, that the most casual observer was able to recognize them as
such.
"Stranger," a half-bred spaniel belonging to my kennel, invariably
expressed pleasure with smiles. The action of the facial muscles, as
well as the facial expression engendered by this action, was widely
different from like phenomena when the dog showed his teeth in
anger.[45]
[45] Compare Darwin, _Expression of the Emotions_, p. 120.
Young chimpanzees chuckle and smile when one they love returns to them
after an absence of some little time. Their eyes sparkle and grow
bright, while very evident and easily recognized smiles flit over their
countenances.[46]
[46] Martin, _Natural History of Mammalia_, Vol. I. pp. 383, 410;
quoted also by Darwin, _loc. cit. ante_.
Young orang-utans likewise chuckle and grin when tickled, and, as
Wallace observes, give expression to unmistakable smiles. "Dr.
Duchenne--and I cannot quote a better authority--informs me that he kept
a tame monkey in his house for a year; and when he gave it, during
meal-times, some choice delicacy, he observed that the corners of its
mouth were slightly raised; thus an expression of satisfaction,
partaking of the nature of an incipient smile, and resembling that often
seen on the face of man, could be plainly perceived in this animal."[47]
[47] Darwin, _loc. cit. ante_, p. 133.
A dog belonging to Mr. Henry Barklay, of Paducah, Kentucky, not only
smiles when pleased, but also gives utterance to an unmistakable
chuckle. When I first saw and heard this manifestation of delight, I
thought that the animal had been taught the accomplishment; his master
assured me, however, that such was not the case, that both the smile and
the chuckle were natural and inborn traits of the dog.
I think it hardly necessary to give more data on this point; suffice it
to say that it is a fact beyond dispute that certain monkeys and dogs
are "laughing animals," and that man is _not_ the only animal that
expresses emotion through the agency of the smile and laughter!
On one occasion during very hot weather, one of the combs in my
bee-house became loosened at the top through melting of the wax. The
weight on the comb dragged it down, and suddenly it broke from its
supports and sagged over against a neighboring comb. It was perfectly
apparent to me that if something were not done at once, the comb would
continue to sag until it broke away from all its connections, and would
then be precipitated to the floor of the hive. The bees likewise
recognized this impending calamity, and clearly showed that they did by
the noise and tumult which arose among them as soon as they discovered
the precarious situation of the endangered comb.[48]
[48] Compare Huber, Vol. II. p. 280.
The loud buzzing which they immediately set up clearly indicated their
dismay and consternation. It seemed to me very much like the noisy
vociferation of conflicting counsels, which would undoubtedly arise
among the people in some orderly town were they suddenly threatened by
some unforeseen and unheard-of catastrophe.
The tumult among the bees continued for four or five minutes, when,
suddenly, order was evolved out of chaos, and they set to work to
prevent the fall of the comb, showing almost, if not altogether, as much
intelligence as human beings would evince under like circumstances.
They shored up the endangered comb by building a thick pillar of wax
between it and a neighboring comb, thus effectually fixing it so that it
could sag no further. When this had been done, they re-affixed the top
of the comb to the ceiling of the hive by a broad, thick bar of wax; the
pillar used in propping up the comb was afterwards removed and the wax
used elsewhere.
In this instance, these little creatures at first clearly evinced the
emotions of fear, dismay, consternation, and grief; afterwards, they
just as clearly showed fortitude and joy; for, after the supporting
pillar had been built, I saw the queen, surrounded by a crowd of
courtier-bees, on the comb near it, and am fully convinced that she had
been brought out by her rejoicing subjects to view the results of their
brave struggle against an utterly unforeseen but now happily averted
calamity.
On another occasion I witnessed the terrible grief of a community of
bees at the death of their queen, which was seized with illness (a
sudden and overwhelming diarrhoea, to which bees, at times, are very
subject) while making a progression through her domains, and fell to the
floor of the hive and died before she could be conveyed back to the
royal cell. I was, therefore, able to see the conduct of the bees during
her illness and after her death.
When she fell to the floor, the bees seemed to know at once that
something out of the ordinary had happened. The sick queen was
immediately surrounded by a dense circle of her subjects, those next to
her licking her with their tongues and endeavoring to raise her to her
feet.
When she died they were a little slow in recognizing the fact, but when
they did realize that she was dead those nearest the dead sovereign set
up a loud buzzing. This was transmitted from circle to circle, from bee
to bee, until the entire hive was in an uproar. The bees rushed to and
fro bewailing their loss, and seemingly crazed by grief. All work was
immediately suspended, and even the young were abandoned and left, for
the time being, to shift for themselves. Those bees which returned to
the hive laden with honey did not put it into the cells but retained it
in their honey-bags. In fact, the entire social economy of the hive was
disrupted and disarranged, and this confusion lasted for hours. After
about twenty-four hours of mourning for the dead queen the bees
recovered their equanimity, and began the work of rearing another queen
from a worker larva.
In another chapter of this book (vid. Memory) I have related an
instance of complex ideation in a bird. I have reference to the sparrow
whose young was saved from a snake, and which remembered the lad who
destroyed its enemy. This bird undoubtedly showed gratitude. Another
correspondent writes: "Knowing your love for, and your interest in, all
animals, I think my experience with two house wrens this summer will
entertain you. These birds selected for their home an old boot, which
they discovered on a bench in an outhouse. Here they built their nest,
and, in the course of time, had the great pleasure of welcoming into the
world two interesting 'wrenlets.'
"One day, while feeding my pigeons, I noticed that the old wrens were
greatly disturbed by something or other. They kept flying about me,
uttering sharp, complaining cries; they would now and then fly to the
outhouse, and then back to me. At last it occurred to me that some
accident might have befallen the young wrens, so I proceeded to
investigate, and soon discovered the trouble.
"Some one, in rummaging about the room, had overturned the boot, which
had fallen in such manner that the top pressed against the wall, thus
effectually barring the way to the nest. I righted the boot, thereby
restoring the children to their parents, much to the delight of all
parties concerned. Ever since this episode the male wren has shown his
gratitude in an unmistakable manner. He has followed me into the house
on several occasions; he has learned where I sit when engaged in sewing,
and pays me short visits, flying though the window several times a day,
and, wonderful to relate, after the young had learned to fly, he brought
them around to my window and evidently gave them to understand that I
was their saviour!"
The higher animals, such as the horse, the ox, the dog, the monkey,
etc., show the emotions of anger, hate, fear, love, and grief so plainly
that "he who runs may read." That these animals possess these emotions
is a fact which hardly needs demonstration. They likewise have very
retentive memories, sometimes treasuring up an injury for days, months,
and years, until an opportunity arrives for them to "get even," thus
showing that they are revengeful.
Thus, a dog of my acquaintance had been severely thrashed last winter
by a larger dog. He bided his time, and, this summer, after his
antagonist had been handicapped by having that atrocious invention, a
muzzle, affixed to his head, he fell upon him, "tooth and toe-nail," and
would have killed him had he not been prevented.
Again, some years ago my attention was called to a large mandril by the
keeper of the monkey house in the St. Louis Zoölogical Garden, who
remarked that "That monkey will do me up some day. I had to thrash him
several days ago, and ever since then he has had it in for me."
Not ten minutes after the conversation, while I was in another part of
the building, I heard a yell from the keeper, and, on rushing to see
what had happened, found that the man's thumb had been almost severed
from his hand by the powerful teeth of the mandril. The keeper had been
explaining something to some visitors, standing with his back to the
animal, and with his hand resting on one of the bars of the cage. The
brute saw his opportunity, and, in the twinkling of an eye, seized it
and inflicted a severe injury to the individual whom he regarded as his
enemy.
During another visit to the above-mentioned monkey house, I accidentally
inflicted an injury to a capuchin monkey, "Tom" by name, who was a great
friend of mine and who had been taken from his cage and given to me by
the keeper. After playing with him for a time, I had placed him on the
floor and had resumed my conversation with the keeper. Suddenly, "Tom"
gave a loud squall and jumped into my lap, wringing one of his hands and
moaning piteously.
He held up his hand towards me, calling my attention to it with many a
grimace and cry; he even felt it with his other hand, carefully
separating the fingers and gently stroking them. On examination I
discovered that the tips of two fingers were bruised and abraded; the
little fellow had evidently had them caught in some way beneath the heel
of my shoe. He quietly and patiently submitted while we dressed his
wounded digits, but removed the bandages just as soon as he was returned
to his cage, evidently having more faith in the curative qualities of
his own saliva than in the medicaments of man.
In this instance, the monkey clearly indicated that he had been hurt; he
pointed out the portion of his body where the injury was situated, and
then allowed his friend to "doctor" the injury, although he did not
evince an abiding faith in that friend's skill. In contradistinction to
the mandril which evinced revenge, the capuchin showed that he was of a
forgiving disposition, for, no sooner was he hurt, than he sought
consolation from the very person who inflicted the injury.
An English observer, Captain Johnson, writes as follows, when speaking
of a monkey which he had shot: "He instantly ran down to the lowest
branch of a tree, as if he were going to fly at me, stopped suddenly,
and coolly put his paw to the part wounded, and held it out, covered
with blood, for me to see. I was so much hurt at the time that it has
left an impression never to be effaced, and I have never since fired a
gun at any of the tribe."[49]
[49] Romanes, _Animal Intelligence_, p. 475.
Another observer, Sir William Hoste, records a similar case. One of his
officers saw a monkey running along some rocks, holding her young one in
her arms. He fired, and the animal fell. When he arrived at the place
where she was lying, she clasped her young one closer, and pointed with
her fingers to the hole in her breast made by the bullet. "Dipping her
finger in the blood and holding it up, she seemed to reproach him with
having been the cause of her pain, and also that of her young one, to
which she frequently pointed."[50]
[50] Romanes, _op. cit._, p. 476.
These observations would seem to indicate that monkeys are capable of
feeling and of expressing sorrow and reproach. "So intense is the grief
of female monkeys for the loss of their young, that it invariably caused
the death of certain kinds kept under confinement by Brehm in North
America."[51]
[51] Darwin, _Descent of Man_, p. 70.
By the observant and analytical mind, the various psychical phenomena
evinced by the lower animals are not regarded as being either wonderful
or extraordinary. Man is a conceited, arrogant individual, and his
place in nature has done much toward fostering and enlarging this
self-conceit and arrogance. Even in the time of Moses this
self-glorification was _en evidence_. The genesis of the world, as
related by this famous historiographer, geographer, naturalist,
theologian, and lawgiver, plainly shows this. At the present time,
science declares, emphatically, that man is but a mammal, whose brain
has undergone exceptional evolutionary development. He is but the
younger kinsman of other mammals whose evolutionary development has
sought other channels; these, in turn, are but younger kin of yet older
animals, and so on backwards, to the beginning of life in bathybian
protoplasm. The resistless forces of evolution have placed him where he
is, and no amount of self-adulation can hide the scientific fact that he
is _not_ a special creation. All the creatures of the living world are
kin, and that force which animated the first moneron, and which we call
life, has been transmitted from creature to creature until the present
day, absolutely unchanged. There is no reason for believing that life
will ever be entirely extinguished, until conditions arise which will
render the presence of this force impossible.
When we recognize the fact that intelligent ratiocination is but the
product and the result of the psychical action of a certain substance
called brain matter, and not the product and the result of the action of
an essence or force unconnected with, or outside of, brain; and,
furthermore, when we know that these lower animals have receptive
ganglia analogous to those possessed by man, analogical deductions force
us to the conclusion that these animals should possess mental emotions
and functions similar to those of man.
The microscope shows that these animals have notochords, nervous
systems, and ganglia, or brains. With a one-sixteenth objective, and an
achromatic light condenser, I have been able to differentiate the gray
matter in the brain of an ant, and even, on two occasions, to bring out
the cells and filaments of the cortex. Here in the brain of an ant, is
an anatomical and physiological similarity to the brain of man:
therefore, it is reasonable to expect evidences of mental operations in
the ant akin to those of man.
That we do find these evidences in abundance can no longer be denied.
Sir John Lubbock chloroformed some _Lasius niger_ belonging to his
formicary. The other ants brought their anæsthetized comrades out of the
nest and carried them away; they thought that they were dead. He made
some other specimens of the same species intoxicated, and the ants
carefully bore their helpless companions back into the nest. The care
evinced in helping their intoxicated friends to reach the safe shelter
of their nest undoubtedly indicates a sense of sympathy toward the
afflicted individuals.
Ants frequently display sympathy for mutilated companions. Whether or
not this feeling is ethical or material is not and can not be
determined; the fact remains, however, that sympathy is evinced. I
myself have observed it on many occasions. I removed the anterior pair
of legs from a specimen of _Lasius flavus_, and placed her near the
entrance to her nest. In a short time a companion came to her
assistance, and, lifting her with her mandibles, carried her into the
nest. A specimen of _F. fusca_, destitute of antennæ, was attacked and
severely injured by an ant of another species. An ant of her own species
soon came by. "She examined," says Lubbock, whom I quote, "the poor
sufferer carefully, then picked her up tenderly and carried her into the
nest. It would have been difficult for any one who witnessed the scene
to have denied to this ant the possession of human feelings."[52]
[52] Lubbock, _Ants, Bees, and Wasps_, p. 107.
Not only do they display sympathy toward mutilated and helpless friends,
but also toward healthy individuals who may accidentally get into
trouble and need assistance. Belt, while watching a column of _Eciton
hamata_, placed a stone upon one of them to secure her. The next ant in
line, as soon as she discovered the condition of her friend, ran
hurriedly backward and communicated the intelligence to the others.
"They rushed to the rescue; some bit at the stone and tried to move it,
others seized the prisoner by the legs and tugged with such force that I
thought the legs would be pulled off; but they persevered until they got
the captive free. I next covered one up with a piece of clay, leaving
only the ends of its antennæ projecting. It was soon discovered by its
fellows, which set to work immediately, and by biting off pieces of the
clay soon liberated it."
At another time he found a few of the same ants passing along at
intervals. He buried one beneath a lump of clay, leaving only the head
protruding. A companion soon discovered her and tried to release her.
Finding this to be impossible, she hurried away. Belt thought that she
had abandoned the unfortunate prisoner, but she had only gone for
assistance, and soon returned accompanied by a dozen companions, which
made directly for the imprisoned ant and soon set her free. "I do not
see how," says Belt in conclusion, "this action could be instinctive. It
was sympathetic help, such as man only among the higher mammalia shows.
The excitement and ardor with which they carried on their unflagging
exertions for the rescue of their comrade could not have been greater if
they had been human beings."[53] I have buried _Lasius flavus_ beneath
sand, and in every instance, sooner or later, they have been dug out by
their companions.
[53] Belt, _The Naturalist in Nicaragua_, p. 26; quoted also by
Romanes, _Animal Intelligence_, p. 48.
Rev. Mr. White has noticed the same sympathetic help among _F.
sanguinea_.[54] Lubbock noticed in one of his nests of _F. fusca_, Jan.
23, 1881, an ant lying on her back and unable to move. She was unable
even to feed herself. Several times he uncovered the part of the nest
where she was. The other ants at once carried her to the covered part.
"On March 4," says he, "the ants were all out of the nest, probably for
fresh air, and had collected together in a corner of the box; they had
not, however, forgotten her, but had carried her with them. I took off
the glass lid of the box, and after a while they returned as usual to
the nest, taking her in again. On March 5th she was still alive, but on
the 15th, notwithstanding all their care, she was dead."[55]
[54] White, _Leisure Hour_, p. 390, 1880.
[55] Lubbock, _loc. cit. ante_, p. 107 _et seq._
Dr. Stimson Lambert of Owensboro, Kentucky, a careful and accurate
observer, informs me that he has frequently observed the large red ants
(_F. rufa_) helping their mutilated or crippled companions.
Ants exhibit another emotion that shows the high development of their
psychical or emotional nature. In the tender watchfulness and care of
their young they are surpassed by no living creature. As soon as the
young ant bursts its pupa case, it is carefully assisted into the world
by its foster-mothers. These foster-mothers clean it with their tongues,
gently going over the entire surface of its body, and then feed it. The
young ant is conducted by them throughout the whole nest, and shown all
the devious passageways and corridors. When it makes its first visit
into the outside world, it is always accompanied by several chaperons.
This parental love, if I may use the expression, is even extended to the
unhatched eggs. If an ants' nest is disturbed by a stroke of a spade or
hoe, the little inhabitants will at once begin to remove eggs, pupæ, and
young to a place of safety.
This parental love is even evinced by insects who never see their
offspring. The butterfly uses the utmost care in selecting a suitable
leaf on which to deposit her eggs. She selects one that will be
nourishing food for the larvæ when hatched out, and, after carefully
observing whether it is preoccupied by the eggs of some other butterfly
(in which case she abandons it), she proceeds to deposit her eggs.
"Having fulfilled this duty, from which no obstacle short of absolute
impossibility, no danger however threatening, can divert her, the
affectionate mother dies."[56]
[56] Kirby and Spence, _Entomology_, p. 228.
The gadfly uses a like forethought in selecting a place for her eggs.
The larvæ of the gadfly (_OEstrus equi_) are developed in the stomach
of the horse, so the provident mother attaches the eggs to the hairs of
the foreleg between the knee and the shoulder, a place the horse is
almost certain to lick with his tongue and, in this manner, convey the
eggs to his stomach, where they are hatched out. The breeding place of
certain of the ichneumons is the body of a caterpillar. The ichneumon
may be seen busily searching the bushes for her victim. When she finds
it, she inserts her ovipositor into its body and lays her egg. If some
other ichneumon has preceded her, she recognizes the fact at once, and
will not deposit her egg, but will go in search of another grub. When
the egg is hatched, the larva feeds on the body of its host, carefully
avoiding the vital organs. The caterpillar retains just enough vitality
to assume the pupa state, and then dies. The chrysalis discloses, not a
butterfly, but an ichneumon.
The mason wasp (_Epipone spinipes_) builds its cells and lays its eggs,
one in each cell. It then hunts and procures spiders, which it deposits
in the cells and then seals the openings. These spiders are not killed
outright, but are partially paralyzed by the sting of the wasp. The
insect thus secures for her young a supply of fresh food. This wasp not
only knows the difference between the eggs that will produce female
young, but she also makes this knowledge useful. She always supplies the
females with more spiders than she does the males. The females are
larger and require more food, hence the discrimination. All of this care
and forethought is expended on young which the mother will never see.
Human love cannot give greater evidences of complete unselfishness.
I once removed a ball of eggs from the web of a spider. The mother clung
tenaciously to her treasure, and, when I tried to remove her with a pair
of forceps, she bit fiercely at the steel blades of the instrument. In
her great love for her offspring she lost all sense of fear. Time and
again I removed her several inches from the eggs; she would run about in
a distracted way, for all the world like a mother who had lost her baby,
until she found the ball of eggs. She would then seize it and attempt to
remove it to a place of safety. The naturalist, Bonnet, put a spider and
her bag of eggs in the pit of an ant-lion. The myrmeleon seized the
egg-bag and tore it away from the spider. Bonnet forced the spider out
of the pit, but she returned and chose to be dragged in and buried alive
rather than leave her eggs.[57]
[57] Bonnet, _OEuvres_; quoted also by Romanes, _Animal Intelligence_,
p. 205.
Earwigs lay their eggs, and then incubate them after the manner of the
hen. When the young are hatched out, the proud mother leads forth the
brood and shows unmistakable pride and affection in her children. On one
occasion, when a storm was coming up, I saw an earwig marshal her troop
of young ones, and lead them to a place of safety beneath the bark of a
tree.
M. Geer scattered the eggs of an earwig over the bottom of a box: "The
earwig carried them, however, one by one, into a certain part of the
box, and then remained constantly sitting upon the heap without ever
quitting it for a moment until the eggs were hatched."[58] This, I take
it, is at least an instance of love of offspring, even if it is not a
higher emotion. From the earwig's habit of watching over her young I am
inclined to believe that this insect possesses true mother-love.
[58] Romanes, _loc. cit. ante_, p. 229; quoted also by Bingley, _loc.
cit._, Vol. III. pp. 150, 151.
Many of the lower animals give unmistakable evidences of the possession
by them of the emotions of anger and fear. Ants, centipedes, tarantulas,
weevils, etc., as well as many of the crustacea will give battle on the
slightest provocation, clearly showing by their actions that anger and
hate are their incentives. When alarmed, their actions indicate very
plainly that the emotion of fear has seized them.
In the next chapter I hope to show that many of the lower animals
possess one or more of the finer emotions, which I have thought best to
group under the head of Æstheticism.