Pedro’s Speech Recorded--Delivered to Puck through the
Phonograph--Little Darwin Learns a New Word
In the Washington collection there was once a Capuchin monkey by the
name of Pedro. When I first visited this bright little fellow he
occupied a cage in common with several other monkeys of different
kinds. All of them seemed to impose upon little Pedro, and a
mischievous young spider-monkey found special delight in catching him
by the tail and dragging him about the floor of the cage. I interfered
on behalf of Pedro and drove the spider-monkey away. Pedro appreciated
this and began to look upon me as a benefactor. When he saw me he would
scream to attract my attention and then beg for me to come to him.
I induced the keeper to place him by himself in a small cage. This
seemed to please him very much. When I went to record his sounds on
the phonograph, I held him on my arm. He took the tube into his tiny,
black hands, held it close up to his mouth and talked into it just like
a good little boy who knew what to do and how to do it. He sometimes
laughed, and he frequently chattered 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. He often told me some
very bad things about that man, though I could not understand what he
said. I shall long remember how this dear little monkey used to cuddle
under my chin and try 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 when repeated to him, and I made some of the best records of
his voice that I ever succeeded in making of any monkey. Some of them
I preserved for a long time. They displayed a wide range of sounds,
and I studied them with special care and pleasure, because I knew
that they were addressed to me. 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 meant than if it
had contained only something addressed to another. This little simian
was born in the Amazon Valley, in Brazil, and was named for the late
emperor, Dom Pedro.
At one time I borrowed from a dealer a little Capuchin called Puck, and
had him sent to my apartments, where I had a phonograph. I placed the
cage in front of the machine, upon which had been adjusted the record
of my little friend Pedro. I concealed myself in an adjoining room,
where, through a small hole in the door, I could watch the conduct of
Puck. A string was attached to the lever of the machine, drawn taut,
and passed through another hole in the door. By this means the machine
could be started without attracting the attention of the monkey through
his seeing anything move. When everything in the room was quiet the
machine was set in motion, and Puck was treated to a phonographic
recital by Pedro. This speech was distinctly delivered through the
horn to the monkey. From his actions it was evident that he recognized
it as the voice of one of his tribe. He looked with surprise at the
horn, made a sound or two, glanced around the room, and again uttered
two or three sounds. Apparently somewhat afraid, he retired from the
horn. Again the horn delivered some sounds of pure Capuchin speech.
Puck seemed to regard them as sounds of some importance. He advanced
cautiously and made a feeble response; but a quick, sharp sound from
the horn startled him; and failing to find anything indicating a
monkey, except the sound of the voice, he looked with evident suspicion
at the horn, and scarcely ventured to answer any sound it made.
When the contents of the record had been delivered to him I entered the
room. This relieved his fear of the horn. A little later the apparatus
was again adjusted, and a small mirror was hung just above the mouth of
the horn. Again retiring from the room, I left him to examine his new
surroundings. He soon discovered the monkey in the glass, and began to
caress it and chatter to it. Again the phonograph was started by means
of the string, and when the horn began to deliver its simian oration,
it greatly disconcerted and perplexed Puck. He looked at the image in
the glass and then into the horn. He retired with a feeble grunt and an
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 like those of a
child, declaring in words that he was not afraid, and at the same
time betraying fear in every act. Puck did not cry, but his intense
fear made the grin on his face rather ghastly. Again he approached the
mirror and listened to the sounds which came from the horn. His conduct
betrayed the conflict in his little soul. It was evident that he did
not believe 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, but tried at the same time to avoid the monkey
which he heard in the horn. His conduct in this instance was a source
of surprise, as the sounds contained in the record were all uttered
in a mood of anxious, earnest entreaty, which contained no sound of
anger, warning, or alarm, but, on the contrary, appeared to be a kind
of love-speech. I had not learned the exact meaning of any one of the
sounds contained in this cylinder, but in a collective and general way
had ascribed such meaning to them. From Puck’s conduct it was to be
inferred that this was some kind of complaint against those monkeys
occupying the other cage. They had made life a burden to little Pedro.
It was evident that Puck interpreted the actions of the monkey seen in
the glass to mean one thing, and the sounds that came from the horn to
mean quite another.
Their language is not capable of relating narratives or giving details
in a complaint, but in general terms of grievance it may have conveyed
to Puck the idea of a monkey in distress, and hence his desire to avoid
it. The image in the glass presented to him a picture of a monkey in a
happy mood, and he therefore had no cause to shun it.
The speech used by monkeys is not of a high order, but it appears to
have been developed from an inferior type. Some species among them have
much more copious and expressive forms of speech than others. From
many experiments with the phonograph I conclude that some have much
higher phonetic types than others. I have found slight inflections that
seem to modify the values of their sounds. Certain monkeys do not make
certain inflections at all, although in other respects the phonation
of a species is generally uniform. In some cases it appears that the
inflections differ slightly in the same species, but long and constant
association tends in some degree to unify these dialects much the same
as like causes blend and unify the dialects of human speech.
I observed one instance in which a Capuchin had acquired two sounds
which strictly belonged to the tongue of the white-faced Cebus. At
first I suspected that these sounds were common to the speech of both
varieties; but on inquiry it was found that this brown Cebus had been
confined for some years in a cage with the white-face, during which
time he had acquired them.
The most interesting case that I have to record is one in which a young
white-faced Cebus acquired the Capuchin sound for food. This occurred
under my own observation, and, being attended by such conditions as to
show that the monkey had a motive in learning the sound, I regard it as
most noteworthy.
In the room where the monkeys were kept by a dealer in Washington,
there was a cage containing the young Cebus in question. He was of
rather more than average intelligence. He was a quiet, sedate, and
thoughtful little monkey. His gray hair and beard gave him quite a
venerable aspect, and for this reason I called him Darwin. For some
reason he was afraid of me, and I gave him but little attention. In
an adjacent cage lived the little brown Cebus, called 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 supplied him with nuts,
bananas, or other food. I never gave him anything to eat unless he
asked me for it in his own speech.
On one occasion my attention was attracted by little Darwin, who was
making a strange sound, such as I had never before heard one of his
species utter. At first I did not recognize the sound, but finally
discovered that it was intended to imitate the sound of the brown
monkey, in response to which I always gave him some nice morsel of
food. Darwin had observed that when Puck made this sound he was
always rewarded with something to eat, and his own evident motive
was to secure a like reward. After this I gave him a bit of food in
acknowledgment of his efforts. From day to day he improved in making
the sound, until at length it could scarcely be detected from that
made by Puck. This was accomplished within a period of less than six
weeks from the time of my first visit. In this instance, at least, I
have witnessed one step taken by a monkey, in learning the speech of
another. This was doubly interesting to me in view of the fact that I
had long believed, and had announced the belief, that no monkey ever
tried to acquire the sounds made by one of another species. This
instance alone was sufficient to cause me to recede from a conclusion
thus rendered untenable; and the short time in which the feat was
accomplished would indicate that the difficulty is not so great as it
had been regarded. As a rule, monkeys do not learn each other’s speech;
but the rule is not without exceptions. I had previously observed,
and called attention to the fact, that when two monkeys of different
species are caged together, each one learns to understand the speech
of the other, but does not try to speak it. When he replies at all, it
is in his own vernacular. Monkeys do not essay to carry on a connected
conversation. Their speech is usually limited to a single sound or
word, and it is answered in the same manner. To suppose that they
converse in an elaborate manner is to go beyond the bounds of reason.
In this respect, the masses fail to understand the real nature of the
speech of monkeys or other animals.