Rabbits, as they cannot easily articulate sounds, and are formed into societies, that live under ground, have a very different method of giving alarm. When danger is threatened, they thump on the ground with one of their hinder feet, and produce a sound, that can be heard a great way by animals near the surface of the earth, which would seem to be an artificial sign both from its singularity and its aptness to the situation of the animal.
The rabbits on the island of Sor, near Senegal, have white flesh, and are well tasted, but do not burrow in the earth, so that we may suspect their digging themselves houses in this cold climate is an acquired art, as well as their note of alarm, (Adanson's Voyage to Senegal).
The barking of dogs is another curious note of alarm, and would seem to be an acquired language, rather than a natural sign: for "in the island of Juan Fernandes, the dogs did not attempt to bark, till some European dogs were put among them, and then they gradually begun to imitate them, but in a strange manner at first, as if they were learning a thing that was not natural to them," (Voyage to South America by Don G. Juan, and Don Ant. de Ulloa. B. 2. c. 4).
Linnæus also observes, that the dogs of South America do not bark at strangers, (Syst. Nat.) And the European dogs, that have been carried to Guinea, are said in three or four generations to cease to bark, and only howl, like the dogs that are natives of that coast, (World Displayed, Vol. XVII. p. 26.)
A circumstance not dissimilar to this, and equally curious, is mentioned by Kircherus, de Musurgia, in his Chapter de Lusciniis, "That the young nightingales, that are hatched under other birds, never sing till they are instructed by the company of other nightingales." And Jonston affirms, that the nightingales that visit Scotland, have not the same harmony as those of Italy, (Pennant's Zoology, octavo, p. 255); which would lead us to suspect that the singing of birds, like human music, is an artificial language rather than a natural expression of passion.
[X]. Our music like our language, is perhaps entirely constituted of artificial tones, which by habit suggest certain agreeable passions. For the same combination of notes and tones do not excite devotion, love, or poetic melancholy in a native of Indostan and of Europe. And "the Highlander has the same warlike ideas annexed to the sound of a bagpipe (an instrument which an Englishman derides), as the Englishman has to that of a trumpet or fife," (Dr. Brown's Union of Poetry and Music, p. 58.) So "the music of the Turks is very different from the Italian, and the people of Fez and Morocco have again a different kind, which to us appears very rough and horrid, but is highly pleasing to them," (L'Arte Armoniaca a Giorgio Antoniotto). Hence we see why the Italian opera does not delight an untutored Englishman; and why those, who are unaccustomed to music, are more pleased with a tune, the second or third time they hear it, than the first. For then the same melodious train of sounds excites the melancholy, they had learned from the song; or the same vivid combination of them recalls all the mirthful ideas of the dance and company.
Even the sounds, that were once disagreeable to us, may by habit be associated with other ideas, so as to become agreeable. Father Lasitau, in his account of the Iroquois, says "the music and dance of those Americans, have something in them extremely barbarous, which at first disgusts. We grow reconciled to them by degrees, and in the end partake of them with pleasure, the savages themselves are fond of them to distraction," (Mœurs des Savages, Tom. ii.)
There are indeed a few sounds, that we very generally associate with agreeable ideas, as the whistling of birds, or purring of animals, that are delighted; and some others, that we as generally associate with disagreeable ideas, as the cries of animals in pain, the hiss of some of them in anger, and the midnight howl of beasts of prey. Yet we receive no terrible or sublime ideas from the lowing of a cow, or the braying of an ass. Which evinces, that these emotions are owing to previous associations. So if the rumbling of a carriage in the street be for a moment mistaken for thunder, we receive a sublime sensation, which ceases as soon as we know it is the noise of a coach and six.
There are other disagreeable sounds, that are said to set the teeth on edge; which, as they have always been thought a necessary effect of certain discordant notes, become a proper subject of our enquiry. Every one in his childhood has repeatedly bit a part of the glass or earthen vessel, in which his food has been given him, and has thence had a very disagreeable sensation in the teeth, which sensation was designed by nature to prevent us from exerting them on objects harder than themselves. The jarring sound produced between the cup and the teeth is always attendant on this disagreeable sensation: and ever after when such a sound is accidentally produced by the conflict of two hard bodies, we feel by association of ideas the concomitant disagreeable sensation in our teeth.
Others have in their infancy frequently held the corner of a silk handkerchief in their mouth, or the end of the velvet cape of their coat, whilst their companions in play have plucked it from them, and have given another disagreeable sensation to their teeth, which has afterwards recurred on touching those materials. And the sight of a knife drawn along a china plate, though no sound is excited by it, and even the imagination of such a knife and plate so scraped together, I know by repeated experience will produce the same disagreeable sensation of the teeth.