I have learned the food sound in the dialect of the sooty Mangaby, but I have not been able to record it sufficiently well to study; but it is one of the most peculiar sounds in the whole range of Simian speech. The phonetic elements are nearly like "wuh-uh-uh," but the manner in which it is delivered is very singular. It appears to be intermixed with a peculiar clucking sound, and each sound seems independent of the other, although so closely joined in their utterance as to sound almost like they were uttered simultaneously by separate means. It is a deep guttural, below the middle pitch of the human voice, while the clucking element appears much higher in pitch, and the whole sound is marked with a strong tremolo effect. The syllables are uttered in rapid succession, and this peculiar sound under different conditions is uttered in at least three different degrees of pitch about an octave apart, but the contour appears to me the same in each. This species talks but little, is very shy, makes few friends, and is afraid of the phonograph; hence I have never been able to make a good record of its voice. I was cultivating the friendship of Jim, who recently died in Central Park, and we were getting on the best of terms; but the little Mangaby that survives him is very shy and suspicious. Immediately after Jim's death, however, when I would visit the Garden, she would always jump on the perch and take the same position that Jim had occupied whenever I would feed him. During his lifetime, she always kept her distance and never would take anything out of my hand, because she was afraid of him; but as soon as he was out of the way she assumed his place, and would utter the same sound that he had uttered at my approach. She evidently was aware of the fact that Jim and I were friends, that I always gave him something good to eat at that particular place in the cage, and that he always sat in a certain position when I gave it to him. I do not regard this species as very intelligent, nor their language as being of a high type; but they have a very human-like face, almost without hair, and very large and expressive eyes. They abound in West Africa, and have been colonised with success in the island of Mauritius; they are not very common in captivity, but much more so than some other species of less interest.
CHAPTER XII.
Atelles or Spider Monkeys—The Common Macaque—Java Monkeys, and what they say—A Happy Family.
I have caught one sound from the spider monkey by which I have been able to attract the attention of others of the same species, but I am as yet uncertain about its meaning. I do not believe that it has any reference to food; but I think perhaps it is a term of friendship, or a sound of endearment. One reason for this belief is, that I have heard it used on several occasions when a monkey of this kind would see its image in a mirror. I have used the sound in Washington, Philadelphia, and Atlanta, and induced the monkey addressed to respond to it and come to me. I almost concluded at one time that this species was nearly dumb, until I saw one enraged by a green monkey that occupied an adjoining cage. On this occasion she raised her voice to an extremely high pitch, and uttered a sound having great volume and significance. This she repeated several times, and it was the first time I had ever seen a spider monkey show any sign of resentment. On another occasion, where this same specimen saw a brilliant peacock near the window by her cage, the sounds which she made at that strange object were loud, clear, and varied.
I have read with surprise an account of a spider monkey which Dr. Gardner had with him in his travels through South America. He describes it as the most intelligent of all monkeys, but I cannot believe that his experience with monkeys was sufficient to rank him as an authority on that subject. I do not pretend, however, to know all that there is to be known concerning this species, but so far as my study of them goes they scarcely laugh, cry, or show any sign of emotion. They do not usually resent anything; thus they are harmless and timid. Their long, lean, half-clad limbs look like the ghost of poverty, and their slow, cautious movements like decrepitude begging alms. They would be objects of pity if they only had sense enough to know how Nature has slighted them.
"JESS"
I have recently received a letter from Mr. A. E. McCall, of Bath, New York, enclosing a photograph of a monkey of this kind, by the name of "Jess." The gentleman tells me that he has been giving some time to the study of the actions and language of this monkey, and assures me that it is very docile, and follows him like a dog, and kindly offers to make such experiments with it as I may suggest, by which to aid me in the pursuit of my own researches, and I shall take advantage of his kind offer.
I am aware that there are exceptions to all rules, and I am not disposed to deprive the spider monkey of the place he may deserve in the scale of Simian life by reason of his intellect or speech; but as this book is a record of what I know, and not what I have heard of, I shall for the present be compelled to place the spider monkey very far down in the scale of intellect and speech.
The common Macaque is a strong, well-built monkey, of a dark grey colour, with a short stubby tail. He has but few friends, and at times appears to regret having any at all. He is quite active, energetic, and aggressive. He endures captivity well, but as a rule never becomes quite tame or trustworthy. His speech is of a low type, but he has a very singular expression of the mouth, which seems to indicate friendship. In fact, there are several different species of the genus Macacus that use this peculiar movement of the lips. They thrust the head forward and lower it slightly, and in this position work their lips as if talking with the greatest possible energy, but without uttering a sound. They do not do this for food, but I have seen them do it to their image in the glass, and have had them do so with me a great number of times. I have been told by some that this is meant as a sign of anger or assault, but my own observations tend to attribute to it exactly the reverse of this meaning. Occasionally, when I have offered them food, I have observed them do this; but I do not think it referred to the food, unless it was intended as a vote of thanks. The first monkey whose voice I ever captured on the phonograph belonged to this tribe; he is still in the Washington collection, and bears the name of "Prince," under which name he may go down to history as the first monkey whose speech was ever recorded. But whatever his fame may become on that account, I do not think he will ever justly obtain the reputation of being an amiable monkey.