say that?" "ich er (rather reluctantly) ... or ..." "Well----? and what
more?" "I won't say!" "You won't tell me?" "yes!" The next day I
returned to this question, for I could not make out why she gave me
such answers, and made such excuses. She well knew how determined I
could be in the matter of "catechising," and that I will stand no
"nonsense" when she begins her little game of rapping "1!"--the meaning
of which, she had once informed me, was "_I won't tell!_" and the
sequel to which I generally found to be that she would put me off with
any word that might just happen to come into her head. But why had this
remark occurred to her yesterday? I wanted to get to the bottom of it,
so returning to the attack, said: "Why wouldn't you tell me yesterday
what water is good for?" "I thought of ear!" "What has water to do with
'ear'?" "water in ear horrid!" Here, then, was the reason! In her very
fear she had not been able to bring forth her true answer--for, owing
to me, the water had got into her ears--and made this lasting and
unpleasant impression--when she was being bathed--or when I threw her
into a stream! The reader may already have noticed other instances
where a direct connexion of ideas has occurred. I have purposely
abstained from pointing to the obvious in each case, believing that
anyone who is keenly interested will do so quickly enough for himself,
and I am loth to weary my Public by needless repetitions.
SPONTANEOUS REPLIES
Spontaneous replies provide a special proof of this ability to form
independent thoughts, and is found both among horses and dogs. Such a
reply is indeed the sudden and evident utterance of some thought, and
of a thought which--to it--transcends all other thoughts at the moment:
one which regardless of all other questions which may at the time be
put to it, looms largest, and the animal will therefore utter this
remark, asked or unasked--and quite independently of any question, but
more after the manner of "making an observation." Such a thought may
have nothing to do with the subject in hand, and persons who are
participating in this conversation _à deux_, can only arrive at the
inference of ideas after having carefully thought the matter over--it
may also be that they will fail to see any association of ideas at all.
Now, it is indisputable that such replies belong to the most important
category--for they may serve as proofs to those who themselves have not
worked with animals for any length of time, and who, therefore, cannot
become sincerely convinced as to the truth of the matter by travelling
the longer road of personal test and experience. The teacher of any
horse or dog of good parts does not need this proof: there are
thousands of small instances which in their sum total prove
important--trivial and uncertain though each one may be, when regarded
by itself. It would be difficult to know how to convey these to anyone
in words: glances, movements, a certain "live appeal"--it would require
a poet to catch and fix--in short--to idealize--telling us the true
inwardness, so that we might indeed comprehend ... and even then he
would, I fear, make for weariness, when grappling with what well may
seem interminable.[20] Here are a few examples:
[20] The poet, Hans Müller, has touched most eloquently on the
power to think latent in animals in his book, "Die Kunst sich zu
freuen."
16 May, 1916: Lola was doing arithmetic and I had given her some new
sums. Suddenly, instead of calculating, she gives--"not reckon." I
asked her the date, she replied "16"--adding of herself "too little to
eat." In the course of the afternoon, Lola, who had gone with me to tea
at B. L.'s, was shown some pictures: "What is that?" she was asked.
"re," (ein Reh = a deer) "segen haus, ich wenig nur arbeite." "Will you
do more here?" "yes." "Arithmetic?" "Yes, yes!" (very joyfully) and
excellent replies followed.
3 January, 1916: On this date I began teaching her the capital letters
of the Latin alphabet; A = a, B = b, and so on, when she suddenly
"butted in" with "go out." As she had worked very well up to that
moment I opened the door and let her out. But in five minutes she was
back, looking anything but pleased; "Well, didn't you like it?" I
asked; "no!" "Why?" "come too!" I venture to think that I have here
given good proof in the matter of "spontaneous" utterances, the best,
perhaps, being the one given at B. L.'s, where she complained of having
done insufficient work, for her fault-finding was generally the other
way round! But she has always loved to show off in that particular
circle, sensing no doubt the friendly interest taken in her there.
WRONG AND UNCERTAIN ANSWERS
If Lola is tired she will either not work at all, or--at most--work
badly, which is but natural! Yet there is another and even more
frequent reason than fatigue for her indifferent work. The dog may to
all appearances be bright and fresh--leading me to expect the very best
results, and yet--with everything seemingly in her favour, she may that
day be an utter failure. This is particularly unpleasant if on one of
these occasions visitors happen to be present, and more especially
should there be sceptics among them. For this failure to respond where
the subject happens to be one in which she has repeatedly given
brilliant proofs of what she really _can_ do, is embarrassing and
humiliating, for then those who are only too ready to scoff merely feel
their case strengthened. Indeed, it needs some determination to keep
one's temper on such occasions, yet to "let oneself go" even for one
moment--would mean weeks of painful and laborious uphill work in order
to regain the dog's confidence. One is often entirely at a loss as to
the reason of this "inward withstanding," which may even elude long and
careful investigation. Now and again the answers may not be forthcoming
when one is alone with her, and behold--! a stranger enters the room,
and she becomes all friendly eagerness to do her best: then again, the
exact reverse of this may be the case, or on some days she may be
useless both alone and before company. There have been times when she
has been delightful and engaging in every way--till work was mentioned
... when the whole expression of her face would change, and she would
assume her "stupid look," deliberately, so it would seem, rapping out
the simplest answer wrongly! The very act of rapping is at such times a
mere careless dragging of her paw--as though it had nothing to do with
the rest of her body. Pleading, threats, the nicest of tit-bits--all
are then unavailing, and she remains _seemingly_ idiotic--the mere
sight of her being enough to drive one wild!--for low be it spoken--_it
is the sheerest impudence_!!! Indeed, the visitor who does not know
her, and happens to "strike" on one of these bad days, would have to be
dowered with more than his share of amiability and imagination, should
he be able to mentally visualize anything approaching "brilliant
accomplishments" in the face of one of these fiascos. Whether these
"turns" be due to sudden obstinacy, to some feeling of injury inflicted
either by myself or the onlooker--to what on earth such tempers be due
I cannot tell! but I have put up with this sort of thing for two hours
at a stretch sometimes, keeping my self-control till at length I have
had to rush out of the room--relinquishing every hope of victory for
that day, and with a feeling of what seemed almost hatred against this
unreasonable beast! although I must say that such feelings do not last
very long--for I am not a good "hater"--and then ... Lola would soon
try to "make it up again" in some touching way!
I may say that for the first four months she worked splendidly before
strangers, and quite as well with me, but from that time onward her
work was equally _uncertain_--both in the presence of others and when
alone with me. I know of no cause for this, I can only say that I often
seemed to "sense" about her a feeling as though she considered these
labours superfluous; as though she had become in a manner
"disillusioned" as to the "results" accruing from her work. Was the
praise, or were the rewards inadequate? the fact remains, that on such
days utterly senseless answers were the most one could get after
constant and persuasive questioning, while the solutions of her sums
would be completely wrong. When once the novelty was gone, indifference
and lack of interest soon took its place, and this applies to
everything she learnt. In the beginning, close attention, and keen
alertness--resulting in ready and intelligent replies, then a sudden
slackening, so that it would seem useless for me to pursue the same
subject again for weeks. This tiresome trait (which, by the way, I can
in part appreciate) may, I fear, in time attack her spelling too--and
then everything will be over, as far as Lola is concerned. Not that she
will be getting more stupid with increasing age! indeed, as she grows
older, she will probably be better than ever able to understand what is
said to her, but she will no longer find it worth her while to pull
herself together so as to do decent work. I shall, of course, do all I
can as far as trying to influence her so as to put off the evil
moment--but the fact is that one has here to do with a remarkably
sensitive and obstinate living-creature, and one that is quite
able--though in a passive way--to maintain its own standpoint.
I shall now give a few specimens of the _almost_ unintelligible answers
dragged from her, as it were, after much grave reproach:
16 August, 1916: "Lola, rap something!" "mal one lif unartig sein."
"What is the meaning of 'lif'? do you mean 'when you ran'?" (lief =
ran, the past tense of laufen = to run). "no." "Did you learn that word
from me?" "yes." "Then explain yourself." "ich rante in wald zu re" ( =
I ran in the wood after deer). Apparently she was in no mood for
explanations, and it was only after wrestling with her that I could get
any sequence of words at all. At other times when urged to get on with
the subject she will in her contrariness rap as follows: "o zu ich" or
"e wo zu" or "zum zu wozu" or "we" and so on--letters with which it is
rarely possible to put together even such small words as _wo_ ( =
where) or _zu_ ( = to, or for) and the longer one persists on such
occasions, the more senseless her remarks become; it is the rarest
thing for her to suddenly pull herself together so as to give a proper
answer. And here again I can find no excuse for her behaviour; though
it may be that she dislikes my persistence, and therefore has recourse
to any nonsense by way of a quick reply! So as to get her in some
manner to recognize the errors of her ways I have again and again
persevered with the utmost patience, so as to arrive at some consistent
answer--yet all I have succeeded in arousing, has been increased
reluctance on the dog's part.
MATTERS WHICH--SO FAR--ARE UNACCOUNTED FOR, OR UNEXPLAINED
As will, indeed, be evident, there is still much that remains
unexplained; much that it will be the task of the future to throw light
upon. Tests which have been but uncertain in their results; accidental
discoveries, the importance of which only becomes evident, after the
results have been tested in connexion with a number of animals. Among
these may be placed the more recent experiments dealing with the sense
of scent, undertaken by Professor Jaeger, and in this category should
be placed also what I think to be a rather interesting test connected
with Lola: I was at the time staying with my family at Hohenheim, and I
asked the dog how many pups her mother had had--including herself: she
answered "12." I inquired of Professor Kraemer if this was so, and he
said that at the time at which he had seen them there had only been
eleven. I then made the same inquiry in Mannheim, and found that there
had been twelve, but that one had died immediately after birth. It was
the only instance of which Lola knew about a dog having pups, so one
day I asked her in fun (19 June, 1916). "How many children will you
have?" (Thinking that the answer would be 12). At first she replied
with "yes!" "Do you know how many? why that's impossible!" But she
rapped "9." "How many boys?" I asked. "3." "And how many girls?" "6." I
thought that this statement was due merely to her desire to make some
answer, so I put the same question the next day--but the reply was
again, "9." So I told my friend about this and we awaited the
interesting event in much suspense--it took place on the 22 June, 1916,
in the presence of my friend, the housekeeper and myself and--_there
were nine puppies_! two males and seven little lady-dogs. I kept two of
each, the others being put to death at once by one of the farm hands,
for--owing to the war, as well as to the fact that the pups were not
thoroughbreds, I could not undertake to bring them all up. But, the
question is--how could Lola have known that there would be nine?[21]
[21] At a meeting held by the Rolf Society at Stuttgart,
Professor Ziegler accounted for this accurate knowledge by
declaring that--prior to birth--the puppies lie in a row within
their mother's womb, and that if one moves, the others proceed to
move also, but only one after the other.
ALTERATIONS IN CHARACTER
As a result of all that has here been stated, the question may very
naturally arise: are there any indications such as lead to suspect a
change of character, or do any other practical results follow on these
educational tests? Now, Lola is by nature lovable, lively, full of fun,
and she has retained these traits to the present day. Her great
excitability has diminished, it is true, but this is probably due to
her having grown more staid with years. Yet a difference is also to be
found where her character--her dog-soul--is in question: it may be
noticed in the suspicious way in which she now regards people, as
though she were "drawing comparisons" between them and herself. We
have, in fact, fallen somewhat in her estimation. She "asks"--so to
speak--as to where our vaunted superiority may lie, and would seem to
compare her newly-acquired knowledge--together with the existence
forced upon her--with the life that is ours. Since she has made these
"educational advances" one can often see in her eyes something that
amounts to an angry reproach--something like an impatient question, as
to _why_ we have so much food and freedom as compared with what is
meted out to her. She follows our thoughts to a great extent, and our
abilities no longer seem to impress her, since--to her--it is only
those which she herself has mastered that come under this heading at
all, and here--a slight contempt for the "oppressor" is often
discernable. There is also a greater show of independence and frequent
contrariness, owing to her diminished respect for our "species," in
short--it becomes more difficult to deal with the dog. The days of
blind confidence are past--even though an innate sense of devotion to
man remains, for what has just been said, seems always to occur more as
the result of "moments of reflection." Indeed, this entire educational
process would have little that is joyful about it, were it not for the
feeling that the animal understands its friend, and is in a position to
converse with us within certain limits, and this outweighs and
compensates for all the rest!
As to the practical results--I can say little that is favourable. The
dog's _thinking_ seems to be at variance with her acts: thought can
therefore, have little influence upon a dog's behaviour, for--as has
been the case with dogs of every kind, from time immemorial--its
actions are due to the excitement of the outer senses, such as scent,
taste, and hearing, and any emotions observable are but the direct and
inward continuation of those external sensations, and, as such, last
but for a given time. What we may term the "thought form" that is bound
to any given _word_, representing objective thought in its simplest
form, rotates within a very limited circle, and is powerless over the
animal's feeling. For instance: Lola knows that she is forbidden to
"hunt" i.e. to go after the game, etc., indeed she has shown in many of
her replies that she is well aware of what "totgeschossen" ( = to be
shot dead) means. And yet--once the scent is up, off she goes, and
nothing will prevent her--for, she _must_ go!
This is a particularly strong characteristic which beating and being
deprived of her food may sometimes _check_, but which her own powers of
reflection do not cure: and it is the same thing with most of her
faults. At times it will be unreasoning obstinacy, but even where she
uses a certain amount of reflection, the _result_ is identical. It has
been no better where--with the help of thought--we have endeavoured to
bring about actual results. An animal can be got to understand and
carry out certain injunctions, such as--"sit up and beg," "lift up your
paw," "go to your bed," "go out of the door," and much more of the
same description, while after instruction it will understand "behind
the stove lies a biscuit," yet _action_ seldom results from such
knowledge. The dog's eyes will brighten, and it is evident that it has
perfectly well comprehended the meaning of the words, indeed--this much
can be easily ascertained by questioning it--but the dog will seem
incapable of translating what it has comprehended into action. At such
times Lola will rush about, as if her limbs would not obey--as though
the influence she could bring to bear on them was not sufficiently
powerful--and the final result is excitement. Connexion with the
motor-nerves does not come into being in response to the action of the
cerebrum. As the result of repeated written and spoken orders it is
possible (with a certain amount of additional aid) to set up this
connexion from without, yet, even then, the actual effect is but
moderately successful. On the other hand, action in the reverse
way--from the nerves or senses to the brain--is easy where the dog is
concerned. Lola can report about things she has done, such as--"saw
deer," "drank milk," "went into wood," "was naughty," "ate some of the
cow," for reflection gives more time to master the subject, and to
notice what is past, and this will therefore show, that in the way of
practical results, the best will be those obtained by asking a dog what
he has seen, heard, or scented, etc. Indeed, it is along these lines
that the police dogs have proved their worth and importance. Yet it is
very necessary that one should make sure that one's dog is not a liar,
but an animal capable of taking up its job in the right manner. With
our present knowledge, however, we are unlikely to achieve very much,
since we cannot say to a dog--"go here or there"--or--"take this letter
to so and so."
Not but what dogs have--in exceptional cases and after training--learnt
to carry out such instructions, but it has resulted _without their
thought-activity having been developed_. They get familiar with a
certain road, and--basket in mouth--they will proceed to the baker's
but--independently of habit and external impression--by the mere appeal
to the brain or by means of the most persuasive words, we can attain to
nothing worth mentioning, nothing that could be of distinct value,
where a dog is kept for use. The sense, the object, and the reason for
this educational work must be sought on other grounds.
A VARIETY OF ANSWERS
It was some time after Lola had mastered the art of spelling before I
was able to get her to make independent replies. The first of these was
given on the 13 April, 1916, and from that time onward they became
easier and more frequent: most of those I have set down date from that
period. These answers were at once noted, according to their numerals,
and when the sentence was complete it was transposed into letters of
the alphabet. Whenever there were any spelling mistakes, the words were
placed before her, and she was told to name each successive wrong
letter in reading over her answer. As _I_ knew the equivalent letters,
I was able to write them down at once, and if the reply was a short one
and no paper at hand, I could memorize the letters, and enter them in a
book as soon as the lesson was over--adding the questions to which such
answers had been given as well as the dates. All other questions and
answers, as well as particulars relating to new exercises were also set
down here.
Here is an answer I received from her on the 13 April, 1916: Lola was
staying with me at Hohenheim, where we had arrived on the previous day,
and I proceeded to Stuttgart in the morning. When I got home in the
evening I asked Lola: "Is it nice here? have you had good food at
father's?" to which the answer--quite wide of the mark--was--"wo wald?"
( = where is the wood?) For I had been telling her about all she would
be able to enjoy and that, among other delights, there would be the
woods; as however, her afternoon walk had only lain through the fields,
her mind was now absorbed with the one idea--"where was the wood?"--to
the oblivion of everything else.
15 April: On this day the written question was put to her: "Why does
Lola like going in the woods?" the reply was at once forthcoming, and I
dictated it to Frau Professor Kindermann. "Where there is wood also
deer and hare"--she was not quite clear in her spelling at first,
indeed, in this respect she sometimes reminds one of a foreigner--as
also in the matter of her grammatical mistakes.
The next day, after having done a few sums to please some friends who
were present, she was asked: "Who is the dog in the room?" "I!" she
replied--not "Lola" as we had all expected. (Rolf has as yet never
alluded to himself as "I"!)
Two days later she was asked in writing: "How many dogs can reckon and
spell?" To this she began her reply in a very brisk and lively mood,
but soon wavered, as though at a loss for the right expressions, then
followed a short pause--and finally she resumed her rapping with
renewed animation. The reply, it will be noticed, is detailed, and does
not keep to the plain question that had been put. "how many have been
taken (for it)? Rolf talks, counts; two more" (short pause) "I also,
also heinz and ilse." For, so as to fire her ambition, I had told her
about her brother and sister, Heinz and Ilse.
19 April: "Lola," I asked, "what was it that ran away from you on the
meadow?" "cat!" "What did you want to do with the poor cat?" "kill!"
"Have you no pity?" "no!" "Then is the cat right if she kills you?"
"_no!_" "Why?" (The reply to this was rapped indistinctly.) "Have you
no pity for any man or animal?" "for dog!"...
22 April: I had told her that my brother was coming, and that he wore a
field-grey coat and was a soldier. When he arrived I said to her: "Who
is this?" "Your brother."
Next day she was asked in writing: "What did Lola see swimming in the
water?" "duck!" I had shown her a duck on the previous afternoon.
26 April: On this day Lola appeared before Professors Kraemer, Mack,
Kindermann and Ziegler, of Hohenheim, which resulted in these gentlemen
forwarding the following statement to the "Mitteilungen für
Tierpsychologie" ( = Communications respecting the psychology of
Animals), series 1916; Number 1, p. 11:
"EXAMINATION OF LOLA BY PROFESSORS KRÄMER, MACK, KINDERMANN AND
ZIEGLER
"In our presence Lola solved a number of sums, such as: 5 + 8 = 13.
30 + 10 - 15 = 25. 4 Mark - 1 mark 20 = 2 mark. 80.
"She next counted the number of persons present. After this,
several dots were scattered about a sheet of paper: at first she
put their number down as 19--but corrected this to 18. Lola then
told us the time: it was 4.16m., and after this she did some
spelling. When shown the picture of a flower she rapped: "blum"
(Blume = flower), and to my somewhat faulty drawing of a cat she
responded with "tir" (Tier = animal), while finally to the question
of what was the name of the Mannheim dog she replied "mein fadr"
(Vater = father)--we all having expected her to say Rolf. Then
followed the musical tests which amazed us most of all, for here
she exhibited an ability lacking in many an individual."
* * * * *
27 April: Lola very tired: groans and does everything wrong. I said:
"Are you lazy?" She replies "no." "Then why are you answering so
badly?" "go!" "Who is to go?" "_tired!_"
29 April: I asked Lola why she had not attended to me on the 22nd,
when--on a country expedition we had made together--she had insisted on
running after the game when I had called her back. I had had to hunt
after her for ten hours the next day, finding her--by the merest
chance--at a peasant's house. She had settled down there alongside of a
sheep-dog to watch the sheep, and seemed by no means pleased to see me;
usually she is delighted! Her reply on this occasion was--"Lola went in
wood, also lay down and was hungry." I returned to the question later
in the afternoon when she made the rejoinder--"sought, didn't find."
30 April: Once more I returned to the incident mentioned above and Lola
answered "to marry a dog"--(the consequences of this escapade becoming
apparent, when Lola presented us with her litter of pups on 22 June).
Then Lola added a spontaneous remark on her own account for, seeing a
biscuit in my hand, she rapped "I to eat!"
* * * * *