By RICHARD BUDD PAINTER.
No one who has clearly observed animals, birds, bees, and other
creatures, can possibly deny their possession of a faculty of
communicating ideas to one another.
Admitting this fully, my object therefore will be, while elicitating
some of the facts concerning animal language, to maintain the
consistency of my argument in regard to man, as contrasted with
animals, by showing that such animal language is not of an intellectual
kind, but only such as is necessary for the conduct, and use, of the
highest phases of the animal “instinctive mind,” according to its
ordained capacity in each species.
In my opinion, every kind of animal possesses a different sort
of language; and which is peculiar to its genus; just as in the
case of different races of man, a language which though capable of
interpretation by a member of the group which speaks it, can not be
generally understood by other races in minute detail; although among
both men and animals there are a few cries, etc., that can be generally
understood; as those of alarm communicated by screams, stamping of the
ground, etc. But we must note that whatever may be the kind and extent
of language in animals, it is in them always _expressive only of animal
sensations and sense impressions and reasonings_.
Particular animals, birds, insects, etc., bark, gibber, bray, sing,
crow, grunt, rub their wing-cases (crickets), etc., showing that each
has a different language, and different modes of expressing emotion:
showing, too, by these differences that their sorts of minds must vary
much more from one another, than do the minds of men in their different
human varieties; for men do not employ such immensely different modes
of conveying their ideas and feelings by sounds as is the case in
animals with their lowing, snorting, barking, etc.
The making of these very different sounds by different animals is
therefore to me the clearest possible proof that different animals
possess different sorts of mind; yet of course there is some general
resemblance, as is the case in so many of God’s works made diversely
in specific instances, yet on the same general plan in the main. I
said just now that, while fully admitting the possession of a kind
of language by animals, I should maintain strictly that it is not of
an intellectual character, and I may be asked what I mean by this
assertion.
My answer is that I believe the language of the animal is limited
chiefly to the expression of animal needs; and animal sensations;
and the conveyance of such requirements, and feelings to their kind;
although it can doubtless be used also for communicating in some
slight degree such ideas concerning animal experiences and feelings as
their feeble reasoning powers enable them to arrive at; such as the
devices for protection, and escape from danger; and the manifestation
and interpretation of the sort of questionings, and answerings which
occur when two dogs meet, as shown by the wagging of tails, and pleased
looks, or the reverse; and which seem to indicate as if the dogs could
by gesture, etc., ask, and reply to one another, whether it is to be
peace, or war.
My belief is that the mind of the mere animal is in no ease able to
reach beyond the limit of simple ministration to the animal needs, and
animal feelings, and instincts of the creature according to its kind;
and that it can never form pure intellectual ideas, such as those of
intellectual love; intellectual hatred; intellectual ideas as to time;
space; God, etc. Nor can it form the mental abstractions—words—and by
the use of these arrive at the intellectual operation of mind which
their employment renders possible.