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.
CHAPTER VII
Meeting with Nellie—Nellie was my Guest—Her Speech and Manners—Helen Keller and Nellie—One of Nellie’s Friends—Her Sight and Hearing—Her Toys and how She Played with Them