Monkey Friends--Jokes--The Sound of Alarm--Jennie
A few years ago there lived in Charleston, S. C., a fine specimen of
the brown Cebus. His name is Jokes. He was naturally shy of strangers,
but on my first visit to him I addressed him in his native tongue, and
he seemed to regard me very kindly. He ate from my hand and allowed me
to handle and caress him. He watched me with evident curiosity, and
invariably responded to the sound that I uttered in his own language.
On one occasion I tried the effect of the peculiar sound of “alarm” or
“assault” which I had learned from one of his species. It cannot be
spelled or represented by letters. While he was eating from my hand I
gave the peculiar, piercing note. He instantly sprang to a perch in the
top of the cage, thence almost wild with fear he ran in and out of his
sleeping apartment. As the sound was repeated his fears increased. No
amount of coaxing would induce him to return to me or to accept from
me any overtures of peace. I retired to the distance of a few feet
from his cage, and his master finally induced him to descend from the
perch; but he did so with great reluctance. I again gave the sound from
where I stood, and it produced a similar result. The monkey gave out a
singular sound in response to my efforts to appease him, but he refused
to become reconciled.
After the lapse of eight or ten days I had not been able to reinstate
myself in his good graces or to induce him to accept anything from
me. At this juncture I resorted to harsher means of bringing him to
terms; I threatened him with a rod. At first he resented this; but
at length he yielded, and merely through fear he came down from his
perch. When finally induced to approach, he placed the side of his
head on the floor, put out his tongue, and uttered a plaintive sound
having a slightly interrogative inflection. At first this act quite
defied interpretation; but during the same period I was visiting a
little monkey called Jack, and in him I found a clue to the meaning
of this conduct. For strangers, Jack and I were very good friends. He
allowed me many liberties, which the family assured me he had uniformly
refused to others. On a certain visit to him he displayed his temper
and made an attack upon me, because I refused to let go a saucer from
which he was drinking milk. I jerked him up by the chain and slapped
him; whereupon he instantly laid the side of his head on the floor, put
out his tongue, and made just such a sound as Jokes had made on the
occasion mentioned. It occurred to me that it was a sign of surrender.
Subsequent tests confirmed this opinion.
Mrs. M. French Sheldon, in her journey through East Africa, shot a
small monkey in a forest near Lake Charla. She graphically describes
how the little fellow stood high up in the bough of a tree and
chattered to her in a clear, musical voice until at the discharge of
her gun he fell mortally wounded. When he was laid dying at her feet,
he turned his bright little eyes pleadingly upon her as if to ask
for pity. Touched by his appeal, she took the little creature in her
arms and tried to soothe him. Again and again he touched his tongue
to her hand as if kissing it, and seemed to wish in the hour of death
to be caressed by the hand that had taken from him without reward
that sweet life which could be of no value except it were spared to
the wild forest where his kindred live. From her description of the
actions of that monkey, his conduct was identical with that of the
Cebus, and may justly be interpreted to mean “Pity me!” or “Spare me!”
A Scotch naturalist, commenting on my description of this act and its
interpretation, quite agrees with me, and states that he has observed
the same thing in other species of monkeys.
During a period of many weeks I visited Jokes almost daily; but after
the lapse of more than two months I had not won him back nor quieted
his suspicions against me. On my approach he usually manifested fear
and went through the act of humiliation above described.
Observing that he entertained an intense hatred for a negro boy who
teased and vexed him, I had the boy come near the cage. Jokes fairly
raved with anger. I took a stick and pretended to beat the boy. This
greatly delighted Jokes. I held the boy near enough to the cage to
allow the monkey to scratch and pull his clothes. This filled his
little simian soul with joy. Releasing the boy, I drove him away by
throwing wads of paper at him. This gave Jokes infinite pleasure. I
repeated this a number of times, and by such means we again became good
friends. After each encounter with the boy, Jokes came to the bars,
touched my hand with his tongue, chattered, played with my fingers,
and showed every sign of confidence and friendship. He always warned me
of the approach of any one, and his conduct at such times was largely
governed by my own. After this he never failed to salute me with the
proper sound.
During this time I paid a few visits to another little monkey of the
same species. Her name was Jennie. Her master had warned me in advance
that she was not well disposed towards strangers. At my request he had
her chained in a small side yard, which he forbade any of the family
entering. On approaching the little lady for the first time, I gave her
the usual salutation, which she responded to and seemed to understand.
I sat down by her side and fed her from my hands. She viewed me with
evident interest and curiosity. I studied her with equal interest.
During the process of this mutual investigation a negro girl, who
lived with the family, stealthily entered the yard and came up within
a few feet of us. I determined to sacrifice this girl upon the altar
of science. Placing her between the monkey and myself, I vigorously
sounded the “alarm” or “warning.” Jennie flew into a fury. I continued
to sound the alarm and at the same time pretended to attack the girl
with a club and some paper wads. The purpose was to make the monkey
believe that the girl had uttered the alarm and made the assault.
With a great display of violence I drove the girl from the yard. For
days afterward she could not feed or approach the little simian. This
further confirmed the opinion as to the meaning of this sound. This
sound can be fairly imitated by placing the back of the hand gently
on the mouth and kissing it with great force, prolonging the sound.
This imitation, however, is indifferent, but the quality of the sound
is especially noticeable when analyzed on the phonograph. The pitch
corresponds to the highest “F” sharp on a piano, while the word “drink”
is about two octaves lower, and the word “food” is nearly three.
On one occasion I visited the Zoölogical Garden in Cincinnati, where
I found in a cage a small Capuchin to whom I gave the name Banquo. It
was near night and the visitors had left the house. The little monkey,
worried out by the annoyance of visitors, sat quietly in the back of
his cage, as though glad that another day was done. I approached the
cage and uttered the sound which I have translated “drink.” The first
effort caught his attention and caused him to turn and look at me. He
rose and answered with the same word. He then came to the front of the
cage and looked at me as if in doubt. I repeated the word. He again
responded, and turned to a small pan in the cage. He took it up and
placed it near the door through which the keeper passed food to him. He
then turned to me and again uttered the word. I asked the keeper for
some milk; but he brought me some water instead. The efforts of the
little simian to secure the glass were very earnest, and his pleading
manner and tone gave evidence of his thirst. I allowed him to dip his
hand into the glass and lick the water from his fingers. When the glass
was kept out of the reach of his hand he repeated the sound and looked
beseechingly at me as if to say: “Please give me more.” This caused
me to suspect that the word which I had translated “milk” also meant
“water.” From this and other tests I finally determined that it meant
“drink” in a broad sense and possibly also meant “thirst.” It evidently
expressed his desire for something with which to allay his thirst. The
sound is very difficult to imitate and quite impossible to write, but
an idea of it is given elsewhere.
On one of my visits to the Chicago Garden I stood with my side to a
cage containing a small Capuchin. I uttered the sound which had been
translated “milk.” It caused him to turn and look at me, and on my
repeating the sound a few times he answered very distinctly, using the
same sound. Picking up the pan from which he usually drank, he brought
it to the front of the cage, set it down, came up to the bars, and
distinctly uttered the word. He had not been shown any milk or other
kind of food. The man in charge then brought some milk, which I gave to
the monkey, who drank it with great delight. I again held up his pan
and repeated the sound. He used the same sound each time when he wanted
milk. During this visit I tried many experiments with the word which
I am now convinced means “food” or “hunger.” I was led to the belief
that he used the same word for apple, carrot, bread, and banana. Later
experiments, however, have caused me to modify this view, because the
phonograph shows slight variations of the sound, and it is probable
that these faint inflections may indicate different kinds of food. They
usually recognize this sound, even when poorly imitated. In this word
may be found a clue to the great secret of speech. And while I have
taken but one short step toward its solution, these facts point out the
way that leads to it.