Five Little Brown Cousins, Mickie, McGinty, Nemo, Dodo, and
Nigger--Nemo Apologizes to Dodo
During the winter of 1891 there lived in Central Park five little brown
monkeys, all of the same kind and occupying the same cage. They were
all of more or less interest, and all of them were my friends. I paid
them frequent visits and spent much time with them. I have the vanity
to believe that I was always a welcome guest. We found much pleasure in
each other’s society. As the monkey house was open to the public after
nine o’clock, I usually made my visits about sunrise in order to be
alone with my little friends.
One of the most cunning and happiest of all little monkeys was in this
group. His name was Mickie, and he was the boss of the school. He was
not very talkative except when he wished for food or drink, but he was
very playful and we had many a merry romp. Whenever I entered the cage
Mickie perched himself above the door to surprise me by jumping on my
neck. He then affectionately threw his arms around my neck and licked
my cheeks, pulled my ears, and chattered in his sweet, plaintive tones.
The other inmates of the cage were jealous of him, but none contested
his right to do as he pleased. I am sorry to say that Mickie was not
always as kind to his little cousins as he might have been. He was
like some people I have known who are selfish and sometimes cruel; but
his habitual good nature made amends in some degree for his sudden
fits of anger. Mickie did not belong to the park. He was only kept as
a guest of the city during the absence of his master in Europe. He had
a genuine sense of humor and sometimes played pranks upon the others,
very much to their annoyance. On one occasion Mickie got the tail of
another monkey around one of the bars of the cage. He sat down and held
to it while its owner screamed with rage and scuffled to get away.
During this time Mickie’s face wore a broad, satanic grin, and he did
not release his hold until he had tired of the fun.
Another one of these little cousins was named McGinty. McGinty was
very fond of me; but he was afraid of Mickie, who was much larger
and stronger than himself. McGinty always wanted to be counted in
the game. He did not like to have Mickie monopolize my attentions.
He often climbed upon my shoulders and caressed me very fondly, if
not interrupted by Mickie; but whenever the latter came, poor little
McGinty retired in disgust, pouted for a time, and even refused to
accept food from me. By and by he would yield to my overtures and again
join in the play. He seemed always to wish to find something that would
divert my attention from Mickie.
Another inmate of the cage was a fine little monkey that belonged to
Mr. G. Scribner, of Yonkers, N. Y. At the time of my visits I did not
know the name of this little creature nor who owned him. I called him
Nemo. He was timid and taciturn, but quite intelligent. He was gentle
in manner, kind in disposition, and he possessed a great amount of
diplomacy. He was thoughtful and peaceable, but “full of guile.” He
always sought to keep the peace with Mickie, to whom he played the
sycophant. He would put his little arms about Mickie’s neck in a most
affectionate manner and hang on to him like a last hope. In all broils
that concerned Mickie, Nemo was his partisan. If Mickie was diverted,
Nemo laughed. I have sometimes thought that he would do so if he were
suffering with the toothache. He seemed to be as completely under the
control of Mickie as was the curl in Mickie’s tail. When Nemo saw
Mickie bite my fingers in play, he thought it was done in anger and he
lost no chance of biting them; but his little teeth were not strong
enough to hurt very much. At last he discovered that Mickie was only
biting me in fun, and after that Nemo did it apparently as a duty.
It scarcely seems that a monkey can be capable of such far-reaching
purpose or of such diplomacy, but by a careful study of his actions I
could find no other motive.
One singular thing in the conduct of this monkey was his apologetic
manner towards another inmate of the cage. Nemo had a soft musical
voice and remarkable power of facial expression. On two occasions
he appeared to apologize to a companion called Dodo. This was done
in a very humble manner. I tried in vain to secure a record of this
particular speech. His manner, voice, and face expressed contrition;
but I was never able to learn either the exact cause or the extent of
his humiliation. He sat in a crouching position, with the left hand
clasped around the right wrist, and delivered his speech in a most
energetic, though humble, manner. After each effort he made a brief
pause and repeated what appeared to me to be the same thing. This was
done three or four times. When he had quite finished this speech, Dodo,
to whom it had been addressed and who had quietly listened, delivered
with her right hand a sound blow upon the left side of the face of the
little penitent. To this he responded with a soft cry, but without
resentment. The keeper assured me that he had many times witnessed this
act, but he had no idea of its meaning. As to the details of this act,
I have no theory; but the state of mind and the purpose were evident.
They expressed regret, penitence, or submission. I have witnessed
something similar in other monkeys, but nothing equal in point of
finish or pathos to that scene between Nemo and Dodo.
Dodo had a bright face and a symmetrical figure. In her I witnessed one
of the most interesting acts that I have ever seen in any monkey. Her
combined speech and actions bordered on the histrionic. Her monologue
was addressed to her keeper, of whom she was especially fond. At almost
any hour of the day Dodo would stand erect and deliver to her keeper
the most touching and impassioned address. The keeper went into the
cage with me, to see if he could handle her. After a little coaxing
she allowed him to take her into his arms. After he had caressed
her for a while and assured her that no harm was meant, she put her
slender little arms about his neck and like an injured child cuddled
her head up under his chin. She caressed him by licking his cheeks,
and chattered in a voice full of sympathy. Her display of affection
was worthy of a human being. During most of this time she continued
her pathetic speech. She was not willing he should leave her. The
only time at which she made any show of anger or threatened me with
assault was when I attempted to lay hands on her keeper or to release
him from her embrace. At such times she would fly at me and attempt to
tear my clothes off. On these occasions she would not allow any other
inmate of the cage to approach him or to receive his caresses. The
sounds which she uttered were at times pitiful, and the tale she told
seemed to be full of sorrow. I have not, so far, been able to translate
these sounds, but their import cannot be misunderstood. Her speech was
doubtless a complaint against the other monkeys in the cage, and she
was probably begging her keeper not to leave her alone in that great
iron prison with all those big, bad monkeys who were so cruel to her.
One reason for believing this to be the nature of her speech is that
in all cases where I have heard this kind of speech and seen these
gestures, the conditions were such as to indicate that such was their
nature. It looks, however, very much like a love-making scene of the
most intense kind.
It is difficult to describe either the sounds or the gestures made
on these occasions The monkey stood erect upon her feet, crossed her
hands over her heart, and in the most touching and graceful manner went
through a series of singular contortions. She swayed her body from side
to side, turned her head in a coquettish manner, and moved her folded
hands dramatically. Meanwhile her face was adorned with a broad grin,
and the soft, rich notes of her voice were perfectly musical. She bent
her body first into one curve and then into another, moved her feet
with the grace of the minuet, and continued her fervent speech as long
as the object of her adoration appeared to be touched by her appeals.
Her voice ranged from pitch to pitch and from key to key, through the
whole gamut of simian vocals, and with her arms folded she glided with
the skill of a ballet girl across the floor of her cage. At times she
stood with her eyes fixed upon her keeper, and held her face in such a
position as not for a moment to lose sight of him. Meanwhile she turned
her body entirely around in her tracks. This was accomplished with a
skill such as no contortionist has ever attained. During these orations
her eyes moistened as if in tears, showing that she felt the sentiment
which her speech was intended to convey.
These little creatures do not shed tears as human beings do; but their
eyes moisten as a result of the same causes that move the human eyes to
tears.
These sounds appeal directly to our better feelings. What there is in
the sound itself we do not really know, but it touches some chord in
the human heart which vibrates in response to it. It has impressed me
with the poetic thought that all our senses are like the strings of
a great harp, each chord having a certain tension, so that any sound
produced through an emotion finds a response in that chord with which
it is in unison. Possibly our emotions and sensations are like the
diatonic scale in music, and the organs through which they act respond
in tones and semitones. Each multiple of any fundamental tone affects
the chord in unison, as the strings upon a musical instrument are
affected. The logical deduction is that our sympathies and affections
are the chords, and our aversions the discords, of that great harp of
passion.
The last of this quintette was a frail little fellow called Nigger.
He was not of much interest, as he was in poor health. He kept mostly
to himself, because his companions were unkind to him and he was not
strong enough to defend himself. He was gentle and affectionate. He
was fond of being caressed and often evinced a sense of gratitude. He
had a touch of humor which sometimes was very funny. He occasionally
created a riot in the cage and then stole away to his corner and left
the others to fight it out. He was the last of the five left in the
park, but he was the first of them to die. The others were taken away
by their owners; but poor little Nigger died in that dismal cage from
whose windows he could see the beautiful trees and warm sunshine of
springtime, though to him they were only a dream that saddened rather
than cheered.