Some Curious Facts in Vocal Growth--Children and
Consonants--Single, Double, and Treble Consonants--Sounds of
Birds--Fishes and their Language--Insects and their Language.
[Sidenote: SOUNDS UTTERED BY CHILDREN]
I shall take occasion here to mention some curious experiments, which
have suggested themselves to me in my work with the phonograph. For lack
of time and opportunity, I have not carried them far enough to give
exact and final results; but it has occurred to me that philology may be
aided by taking a record of the sounds made by a number of children
daily through a period of two or three years from birth. The few
experiments which I have tried in this particular line are sufficient to
show that the growth of speech obeys certain laws in the development of
vocal power. It is apparent to me that the first sounds uttered by
children have no consonants, and that certain consonants always appear
in a regular succession and always single. The double consonants develop
later, and the triple consonants appear to be the last acquirement. I
have not the space to go to great length on this subject, and my
experiments have not been sufficient to enable me to formulate with
certainty any set of rules by which the development of this faculty is
uniformly governed.
It is my purpose, on my return from Africa, to set on foot a series of
such experiments, with the hope of ascertaining the facts connected
therewith. And while in Africa I shall aim to make such records of the
natives as to ascertain whether their speech conforms to the same laws
of development or not. It is my earnest hope to be able to do the same
thing with the great apes which I am going chiefly to study. I think if
I can record on a phonograph cylinder the sounds uttered by a young
chimpanzee under certain conditions once each day for a year or so, I
can determine whether there is a like growth in their speech, and to
what extent the same laws control it. I have already observed that the
quality of voice in a given species of monkey changes with his age very
much in the same manner as the human voice; but I have not been able to
follow the changes through one individual specimen by which to ascertain
the exact manner of such change.
[Sidenote: SOUNDS OF BIRDS]
The sounds of birds have been studied perhaps more than any others
except those of man, but they have not been studied as speech, nor to
ascertain their meanings. Their musical character has attracted
attention and been the subject of some discussion. My opinion is that
much that has been said on that subject belongs more properly to the
realm of poetry than of science. I think the sounds of birds are chiefly
intended for speech, but it may supply the place of music in their
aesthetic being; but, so far as I have observed, I confess that I cannot
find that they obey the laws of harmony, melody, or time, and it is my
opinion that most of the efforts to write the sounds of birds on a
musical staff are not to be relied upon as accurate records of the
sounds. There is no doubt that each sound uttered by a bird is in unison
with some note in the chromatic scale of music, but the intervals
between the tones of the same bird do not coincide with those of the
human voice. It is quite evident that birds possess an acute sense and
ready faculty for music, and many of them show great aptitude in
imitating the sounds of musical instruments; some varieties of birds,
such as the southern mocking-bird, the thrush, and others, imitate with
great success the sounds of other birds. They often do this so perfectly
as to deceive the species to which the sounds belong. The songs of
birds, as they are called, appear to afford them great pleasure, and
they often indulge in them, I think, as a pastime; the effect is
pleasing to the ear because of its cheerfulness, and it is not
discordant or wanting in richness of tone in most birds. From the little
study I have given them I think it safe to say that the range of sounds
possessed by any one bird is quite limited and their notes are strictly
monophones. This last remark does not apply to the sounds made by
parrots and birds of that kind.
The parrot is perhaps possessed of the greatest vocal power of any other
bird. He imitates almost the entire range of sounds that are uttered by
all other birds combined, and can also imitate the sounds of human
speech from the highest to the lowest pitch of the human voice. In
addition to all this, he imitates many noises, such as the sounds of
sawing wood, the slam of a door, and the whistling of the wind. The
vocal range of the parrot is perhaps the most marvellous of all the
vocal products of the animal kingdom. One strange thing, however, that I
observe among them is, that the range of sounds that they use among
themselves is very small. I have made some records of parrots, macaws,
cockatoos, &c., and I find their natural vocal sounds usually wanting in
quality: most of their sounds are hoarse and guttural.
Among the gallinaceous birds there does not appear to be much music.
There is a great sameness of sounds in the different species, and they
seem to be confined to the economic use of speech.
In my early life I devoted much time to gunning, and I observed then,
and called attention to the fact, that when a covey of birds became
scattered I could tell at what point they would huddle. I could tell
this by the call of one bird and the reply of the others. The call-bird,
which was always the leader of the covey, would sound his call from a
certain point near which the other birds would usually assemble, and
during this time they would answer him from various other points. The
sound used by the call-bird is unlike that used by the rest of the
flock, but the sounds with which they reply to him are all alike, and
by observing this I could always find the covey again by allowing them
time to come together, especially if it was late in the afternoon.
Mr. Wood, of Washington, D.C., has given such attention to the sounds of
birds that he can interpret and imitate nearly all the sounds made by
domestic birds, and many of those made by wild birds. He has twice
confused and arrested the flight of an army of crows by imitating the
calls of their leader. His feats have been witnessed with astonishment
by many men of science.
[Sidenote: SOUNDS OF FISHES]
Among fishes I have found but few sounds, and most of these I have never
heard except when the fish was taken out of the water. The carp and
high-fin, however, I have frequently heard while in the water. It has
occurred to me that the sound is not the medium of communication, but it
is the result of an action by which they do communicate even when the
sound is not audible. I have observed while holding the fish in my hand
when he makes this sound that it produces a jarring sensation which is
very perceptible. It is quite possible that in his natural element these
powerful vibrations are imparted to the surrounding water, and through
it communicated to another fish, who feels it in his sensitive body
instead of hearing it as sound. It may be accompanied by the sound
merely resulting from the force applied, but not in itself constituting
any part of the means of communication. It is not unlike what we call
sound, in the fact that it is generated in the same way, transmitted in
the same way, and received in the same way as sound. When I have time
and opportunity I shall carry my studies of the language of fishes much
farther. Their means of communication are very contracted, but it is
superfluous for me to say that they have such means.
Many observations have already been made on the language of insects, and
much diversity of opinion prevails. Very little has been said about the
details of their intercourse, but the consensus of opinion is that they
must in some way communicate among themselves. To me they seem to live
within a world of their own, as other classes of the animal kingdom do.
The means of communication used by mammals could not be available among
aquatic forms, any more than could their modes of locomotion. Each
different class of the animal kingdom is endowed with such characters
and faculties as best adapt them to the sphere in which they live; and
the mode of communication best fitted to the conditions of insect life
would be as little suited to mammals, perhaps, as the feathers of a bird
would be for locomotion in the realm of fishes.
[Sidenote: LANGUAGE OF INSECTS]
I am aware that some high authorities have claimed that insects
communicate by sounds. My own opinion is that they employ a system of
grating or scratching by means of their stigmata, but that the sound
created thus performs no function in the act of communicating, but is
only a bi-product, so to speak, and that the jarring sensation
transmitted through the air is the real means by which they understand
each other, possibly somewhat like telegraphy, in which the sounds are
not modulated, but are distinguished by their duration and the interval
between them. I do not announce this as conclusive, but merely suggest
it as a possible key to their mode of intercourse.
[Sidenote: A COLONY OF ANTS]
I have observed that signs prevail to a great extent among ants. Some
years ago I had an opportunity of studying a colony of ants, and I
watched them almost daily for several weeks. I had seen it stated that
they found their way by the sense of smell, but these observations
confirmed my doubts on that point, and I feel justified in saying that
they are guided almost, if not entirely, by landmarks. On the bark of a
tree from which they were gathering in their winter stores, I observed
that there were certain little knots or protuberances by which they
directed their course and which they always passed in a certain order.
Between these landmarks they did not confine themselves to any exact
path, but the concourse would sometimes widen out over the space of more
than an inch, but as they approached a landmark every ant fell into line
and went in the exact path of the others, which rarely exceeded in any
case more than an eighth of an inch in width. Whenever an ant would lose
its way it would lift its head high into the air, look around, and then
turn almost at right angles from the course it was pursuing towards the
path of the others. In scores of cases I observed that the outward-bound
ant, when it had been lost and returned to the path, always came on the
homeward side of the landmark and passed out. On the other hand, if a
homeward-bound ant was lost it would approach from the outward side of
the landmark and pass in. About five feet from the ground were two
small, round knots, about one-eighth of an inch in height, and a space
between them of about the same width. This appeared to be one of their
most conspicuous and reliable landmarks, and every ant that I saw pass
in or out during the lapse of weeks passed between these two points. The
burdened ant always appeared to have the right of way, and when meeting
another without a burden there was no question of this right. In such a
case the burden was usually held aloft, and the right of way conceded
without debate. A little later in the season I had the opportunity of
seeing the same colony emigrate to a point about eighty feet distant
from their original abode, at which time they carried large burdens and
were many days in completing their work, but the same system and methods
prevailed.
As far as desire can be found in life the means of expression go hand in
hand with it, but I do not contend that desire alone is the origin of
this faculty. So far as human ears can ascertain, the lowest forms of
life appeared to dwell in perpetual silence, but there may be voices yet
unheard, more eloquent than we have ever dreamed of.