Kitabı oku: «The Speech of Monkeys», sayfa 3
CHAPTER V
Five little Brown Cousins: Mickie, Nemo, Dodo, Nigger, and McGinty – Nemo apologises to Dodo.
During the past winter there lived in Central Park a bright, fine, little monkey by the name of Mickie. He did not belong to the Park, but was merely kept as a guest of the city during the absence of his master in Europe. Mickie is a well-built, robust, good-natured monkey of the Capuchin variety. He does not talk much except when he wants food or drink, but he and I are the best of friends, and I frequently go into his cage to have a romp with him and his four little cousins.
When I first began to visit the Park in the fall of 1891, Mickie showed a disposition to cultivate my acquaintance, and as it ripened into a friendship day by day, we found great pleasure in each other's society. As the monkey-house was open to the public at nine o'clock in the morning, I had to make my calls at sunrise or thereabouts, in order to avoid the visitors who daily throng this building.
NEMO AND MICKIE
In this cage was kept another little boarder of the same species, which belonged to Mr. G. Hilton Scribner, of Yonkers. The keeper did not know the name or anything of the past history of this little stranger, and for want of some identity and a name I called him Nemo. He was a timid, taciturn little fellow, quite intelligent, and possessed of an amount of diplomacy equal to that of some human beings. He was the smallest monkey in the cage, on which account he was somewhat shy of the others. He was thoughtful, peaceable, but full of "guile." He sought on all occasions to keep on the best terms with Mickie, to whom he would toady like a sycophant. He would put his little arms about Mickie's neck and hang on to him in the most affectionate manner. He would follow him like a shadow, and stay by him like a last hope. If anything ever aroused the temper of Mickie it was sure to make Nemo mad too; if Mickie was diverted and would laugh, Nemo would laugh also if he was suffering with a toothache. He was as completely under the control of Mickie as the curl in Mickie's tail. When I first began to visit them Nemo would see Mickie bite my fingers while we were playing, and he supposed it was done in anger. Nemo never lost a chance to bite my fingers, which he would always do with all his might, but his little teeth were not strong enough to hurt me very much. He would only do this after seeing Mickie bite me, and he did not evince any anger in the act, but appeared to do so merely as a duty. He would sneak up to my hands and bite me unawares; then he would run to Mickie and put his arm about his neck just as you have seen some boys do when trying to curry favour with a larger boy. On one occasion while in the cage with them he slipped up to me and bit my finger, for which I kindly boxed his little ears. I would then give Mickie my finger and allow him to bite it, after doing which I slapped him gently and then give it to him again. I would then allow Nemo to bite my finger, and if he bit it too hard I would slap him again, and in this manner soon taught him to understand that Mickie only bit me in fun, and he evidently learned that this was a fact. He did not appear, however, to catch the point clearly or see any reason therefor, but on all occasions thereafter he would take my finger in his mouth and hold it in his teeth, which were scarcely closed upon it. This he would do for a minute at a time without having the least apparent motive except that he had seen Mickie do so. MICKIE'S ATTACHMENT Often while holding my finger in this manner, with a look of seriousness worthy of a supreme judge, he would roll his little eyes at me in the most inquiring manner, as if to say "how is that"? When he once realised that Mickie was so much attached to me, Nemo always showed a desire to be on friendly terms with me; and when I would go into the cage to play with Mickie and McGinty, he always wanted to be counted in the game. When I had anything for them to eat he always wanted a seat of honour at the table, and he would at times want to fight for me when the other monkeys got too friendly. Poor little fellow, he is now dead, but the image of his cute little face and original character are deeply imprinted on my mind. I was never able to secure a record of the sounds of his little voice, though I have often heard him talk. He had a soft musical voice, and great power of facial expression.
APOLOGY TO DODO
One of the most remarkable things I have ever observed among monkeys was done by this little fellow. On two separate occasions I have seen him apologise to Dodo in the most humble manner for something he had done, and I tried very hard to secure a record of this particular speech, in which I totally failed, as I could not foreknow when such an act would be done, and therefore could not have my phonograph in place to obtain such a record. I called the attention of Mr. F. S. Church, the eminent artist, to this act, with the hope that he might be able to make a sketch of Nemo while in this attitude. I do not know what the offence was, but the pose and expression as well as the speech were very impressive. He sat in a crouching position, with the left hand clasping the right wrist, and delivered his speech in a most energetic but humble manner. The expression on his face could not be misunderstood. After a few moments he paused briefly, and then seemed to repeat the same thing some two or three times. The manner of his delivery was very suggestive, and his demeanour was conciliatory. When he had quite finished his speech, Dodo, to whom the apology was being made, and who had listened to it in perfect silence, delivered a sound blow with her right hand on the left side of the face of the little penitent, to which he responded with a soft cry, while Dodo turned and left him without further debate. I also called the attention of the keeper to this act, and he assured me that he had repeatedly witnessed the same. What the subject of his speech was or the cause which brought it about I am not able to say, nor can I say with certainty to what extent he explained, but that it was an apology, or explanation of some kind at least, I have not the slightest doubt. I do not believe, of course, that his speech contained any details concerning the offence, but that it expressed regret, penitence, or submission does not to my mind admit of a doubt. I have seen a few other cases somewhat similar to this, but none of them comparing in point of polish and pathos to that of Nemo in his unique little speech.
Nigger was of this same species: he was in poor health most of the winter, being afflicted with some spinal trouble. But, notwithstanding his affliction, he was a good talker. His infirmity, however, placed him at the mercy of the other inmates of the cage, and as monkeys are naturally cruel and entirely destitute of sympathy, the daily life of Nigger could not be expected to be a very happy one. From this state of facts Nigger usually kept to himself, and was not intimate with any other monkey in the cage. I have frequently given Nigger some choice bits of food while I was in the cage, and protected him from the other monkeys while he was eating it. This he seemed to fully appreciate, and always located himself at a certain point in the cage where his defence could be effected with the least difficulty. Nigger frequently indulged in the most pathetic and touching appeals to his keeper, and went through many of the gestures, sounds, and contortions which will be described in the next chapter, as a part of the speech and conduct of Dodo, some of whose remarkable poses and expressions have been faithfully portrayed by Mr. Church.
McGINTY AT CENTRAL PARK
Among my personal friends of the Simian race, there is none more devoted to me than little McGinty, another winter boarder at Central Park. From the first of my acquaintance with McGinty we had been staunch friends, and when I go to visit him he expresses the most unbounded delight. He will reach his little arms through the bars of the cage, and put his hands on my cheeks, hold his mouth up to the wires, and talk to me at great length. When I go into the cage he will place himself on a perch in the cage, where he will sit with his arms around my neck, lick my cheeks affectionately, pull my ears, and chatter to me in a sweet but plaintive tone. When Mickie joins the play, which he invariably does, by climbing or jumping on to my shoulders, and interrupting the tête-à-tête between McGinty and myself, poor little McGinty's jealousy, which is his supreme passion, causes him to retire in disgust, and he will sometimes pout for several minutes without even accepting food from me. After he has pouted for a while, however, he will sometimes make overtures of reconciliation and seek by various means to divert my attention. One of his favourite means of renewing favour with me, was to whip poor little Nigger. He would look at me and laugh, grin and make grimaces, and then dash off at Nigger and want to eat him up. He did not seem to understand why I objected to this whipping Nigger. Monkeys do not regard it as a breach of honour to whip the helpless and feeble members of their tribe. They are not unlike a large percentage of mankind. They always hunt for easy prey, and want to fight something that is easily whipped. They are not great cowards, but when once whipped they rarely attempt the second time to contest matters with their victors. CAGE OF CAPUCHIN MONKEYS In this cage, containing five brown Capuchin monkeys, it was not difficult to see that Mickie ran things to suit himself. McGinty was the only one of the four in the cage with him that ever contested any right with Mickie, and for a long time it was a question in my mind who was to win in the end. The next to them in authority was Dodo, who never attempted to control Mickie or McGinty, but always made Nemo and Nigger stand about. Fourth in line of authority was Nemo, who always resented any offence from others by making Nigger take a corner; and the only victims that Nigger had were the little white-faces, which never fight anything and are always on the run. When it was finally decided between Mickie and McGinty that Mickie should be captain, McGinty readily accepted the place of first lieutenant, which rank he has continued to hold without challenge. When once the question is settled among the cage of Simians, the debate does not appear to be renewed at any future time. They never go to court with their grievances, and rarely appeal a second time to force when the question has once been decided against them. Some human beings might profit by studying this trait of monkeys.
CHAPTER VI
Dago Talks about the Weather – Tells me of his Troubles – Dodo in the "Balcony Scene" – Her Portrait by a great Artist.
On one of my visits to Chicago, in the autumn of 1890, I went to pay my respects to Dago, the little brown monkey in Lincoln Park. He had been sick for a while, and had not fully recovered, although he was able to receive visitors, and his appetite for pea-nuts was fairly well restored. On the morning of which I speak, it was dark and stormy. A fierce wind and terrible rain prevailed from the north-west. I went to the building just after daylight, in order to be alone with the monkey, and when I entered the house, Frenchie, the head-keeper, told me how very sick little Dago had been since I had left him on the day before. I approached the cage and began to caress him, to which he replied in low whimpering tones, as though he understood the nature of what I was saying to him. Presently he raised himself erect upon his hind feet, and placing his hands on his side, pressed and rubbed it as though he was in great pain, and uttered some sounds in a low, piping voice. The sound itself was pathetic, and when accented by his gestures, it was really very touching. DAGO AND THE WEATHER At this juncture, a hard gust of wind and rain dashed against the window near his cage, whereupon the little monk turned away from me, ran to the window and looked out, and uttered a sound quite different from the ones he had just been delivering to me. Still standing erect, he appeared deeply interested, and stood for a few moments at the window, during which time he would turn his head towards me and utter this sound. That the sound he uttered was addressed to me could not be doubted, and his manner in doing so was very human-like. Then returning to me, still standing erect, he would renew this plaintive speech in the most earnest manner, and continue it until another gust would call him to the window. I observed that each time he went to the window he uttered the same sound, as well as I could detect by ear, and would stand for some time watching out of the window, and occasionally turn his head and repeat this sound to me. When returning to me again, he would resume his sad story, whatever it was. I secured a good record of that part of his speech which was made when near me at the front of the cage, but the remarks made while at the window were not so well recorded, yet they were audible, and I reproduced them on the phonograph at a subsequent visit. My opinion was that the sound he uttered while at the window must allude in some way to the state of the weather, and this opinion was confirmed by the fact that on a later occasion, when I repeated the record to him, the weather was fair; but when the machine repeated those sounds which he had uttered at the window on the day of the storm, it would cause him to turn away and look out of the window; while at the other part of the record he evinced but little interest, and, in fact, seemed rather to avoid the phonograph as though the sounds suggested something which he disliked. I am quite sure that the remarks which he made to me at the front of the cage were a complaint of some kind, and, from its intonation and the manner in which it was delivered, I believed that it was an expression of pain. It occurred to me that the state of the weather might have something to do with his feelings, and that he was conscious of this fact, and desired to inform me of it.
About a year from that time, I became quite intimate with a feeble little monkey, which is described elsewhere by the name of Pedro, and of whose speech I made a good record. The sounds of his speech so closely resembled those made by Dago, that I was not able to see that they differed in any respect, except in loudness. Unfortunately, the cylinders containing Dago's record had been broken in shipping, and I was therefore unable to compare the two by analysis; but the sounds themselves resembled in a striking degree, and the manner of delivery was not wholly unlike, except that Pedro did not assume the same pose nor emphasise them with the same gestures.
DODO, THE JULIET OF THE TRIBE
During my stay in New York the past winter, I have been frequently entertained by a like speech from little Dodo, who was the Juliet of the Simian tribe. She belonged to the same species as the others, but her oratory was of a type far superior to that of any other of its kind that I have ever heard. At almost any hour of the day, at the approach of her keeper, she would stand upright and deliver to him the most touching and impassioned address. The sounds which she used, and the gestures with which she accented them, as far as I could determine, were the same as those used by Dago and Pedro in their remarks to me as above described, except that Dodo delivered her lines in a much more impressive manner than either of the others. DODO AND HER KEEPER I asked the keeper to go into the cage with me, and see if he could take her into his hands. We entered the cage, and after a little coaxing she allowed him to take her into his arms, and after caressing her for a while, and assuring her that no harm was meant, she would put her slender little arms about his neck, and cuddle her head up under his chin like an injured child. She would caress him by licking his cheeks and chattering to him in a voice full of sympathy, and an air of affection worthy of a human being. During most of this time she would continue her pathetic speech without a moment's pause, and was not willing under any conditions to be separated from him. The only time at which she would ever show any anger at me, or threaten me with assault, would be when I would attempt to lay hands on her keeper, or release him from her warm embrace. At such times, however, she would fly at me with great fury, and attempt to tear my very clothes off, and on these occasions she would not allow any other inmate of the cage to approach him, or to receive his attention or caresses. The sounds which she uttered were pitiful at times, and the tale she told must have been full of the deepest woe. I have not been able up to this time to translate these sounds literally, but their import cannot be misunderstood. My belief is that her speech was a complaint against the inmates of the cage, and that she was 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 speech and seen these gestures made, the conditions were such as to indicate that such was its nature. It has, however, every appearance of love-making of the most intense type. It is quite impossible to describe fully and accurately the sounds, and much more so the gestures, made on these occasions, so that the reader would be impressed as with the real act and speech. Dodo would stand erect on her feet, cross her hands on her heart, and in the most touching but graceful manner go through with the most indescribable contortions; she would sway her body from side to side, turn her head in the most coquettish manner, and move her folded hands dramatically, while her face would be adorned with a Simian grin of the first order, and the soft, rich notes of her voice were perfectly musical. She would bend her body into every graceful curve that can be imagined, move her feet with the grace of the minuet, and continue her fervent speech as long as the object of her admiration appeared to be touched by her appeals. Her voice would range from pitch to pitch and from key to key, and, with her arms folded, she would glide across the floor of her cage with the grace of a ballet girl; and I have seen her stand with her eyes fixed upon her keeper, and hold her face in such a position as not to lose sight of him for a moment, and at the same time turn her body entirely around, in her tracks, with the skill which no contortionist has ever attained. MONKEYS SHED TEARS During these orations I have observed the little tears standing in the corner of her eyes, which indicated that she herself must have felt what her speech was intended to convey. These little creatures do not shed tears in such abundance as human beings do, but they are real tears, and are doubtless the result of the same causes that move the human eyes to tears.
It has been my experience that these sounds appeal directly to our better feelings. What there is in the sound itself I cannot say, but it touches some chord in the human heart which vibrates in response to it. It has impressed me with the thought that all our senses are like the strings of some great harp, each one having a certain tension; so that any sound produced through an emotion would find response in that chord which is in unison with it. Indeed, I have thought that our emotions and sensations may be like the diatonic scale in music, and that the organs through which they act may respond in tones and semitones, and that each multiple of any fundamental tone will affect the chord in unison with it, like the strings upon a musical instrument. The logical deduction thence would be, that our sympathies and affections are the chords, and our aversions and contempt the discords, of that great harp of passion.
