The Speech of Monkeys. Garner Richard Lynch
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The Speech of Monkeys
Whose zeal for my success is the light which guides me along the highway of my labours, and to those earnest friends, Mr. Walter S. Logan, Judge Charles P. Daly, Mr. James Muhlenberg Bailey, Mr. Samuel S. McClure, Hon. O. B. Potter, Dr. Alexander Melville Bell, Hon. John Hay, Professor S. E. Tillman, Mrs. Henry Draper, Mr. J. V. V. Booream, Mr. G. Hilton Scribner, and Mr. B. Schlesinger, who have opened their purse as they opened their hearts, and afforded me that aid which made it possible for me to continue my researches. With them I shall gladly share the glory of all that my efforts may achieve, and to them, with profound and affectionate gratitude, this first contribution to Science on this subject is justly dedicated by
I desire here to express my gratitude to The New Review, The North American Review, The Cosmopolitan, The Forum, and many of the leading journals of America, for the use of their valuable and popular pages through which my work has been given to the public. To the press, English and American, I gladly pay my tribute of thanks for the liberal discussion, candid criticism, and kind consideration which they have bestowed upon my efforts to solve the great problem of speech.
In contributing to Science this mite, I do not mean to intimate that my task has been completed, for I am aware that I have only begun to explore the field through which we may hope to pass beyond the confines of our own realm and invade the lower spheres of life.
This volume is intended as a record of my work, and a voluntary report of my progress, to let the world know with what results my labours have been rewarded, and with the hope that it may be the means of inducing others to pursue like investigations.
In prosecuting my studies I have had no precedents to guide me, no literature to consult, and no landmarks by which to steer my course. I have, therefore, been compelled to find my own means, suggest my own experiments, and solve my own problems. Not a line on this subject is to be found in all the literature of the world, and yet the results which I have obtained have far surpassed my highest hopes. Considering the difficulties under which I have been compelled to work, I have been rewarded with results for which I dared not hope, and this inspires me to believe that my success will meet my highest wishes when I am placed in touch with such subjects as I expect to find in the forests of Tropical Africa.
Only a few of my experiments are recorded in this volume, but as they illustrate my methods and set forth the results, they will serve to show, in a measure, the scope of my work.
In the latter part of this work will be found a definition of the word Speech as I have used it, and the deductions which I have made from my experiments. I have not ventured into any extreme theories, either to confirm or controvert the opinions of others, but simply commit to the world these initial facts, and the working hypotheses upon which I have proceeded to obtain them.
In Chapter XXI. I have mentioned the particular characteristics which mark the sound of monkeys as speech, and distinguish them from mere automatic sounds.
With all the gravity of sincere conviction I commit this volume to the friends of Science as the first contribution upon this subject.
New York, June 1, 1892.
CHAPTER I
Early Impressions – First Observations of Monkeys – First Efforts to Learn their Speech – Barriers – The Phonograph Used – A Visit to Jokes – My Efforts to Speak to Him – The Sound of Alarm inspires Terror.
From childhood, I have believed that all kinds of animals have some mode of speech by which they could talk among their own kind, and have often wondered why man had never tried to learn it. I often wondered how it occurred to man to whistle to a horse or dog instead of using some sound more like their own; and even yet I am at a loss to know how such a sound has ever become a fixed means of calling these animals. I was not alone in my belief that all animals had some way to make known to others some certain things; but to my mind the means had never been well defined.
About eight years ago, in the Cincinnati Zoological Garden, I was deeply impressed by the conduct of a number of monkeys occupying a cage with a huge, savage mandril, which they seemed very much to fear and dislike. By means of a wall, the cage was divided into two compartments, through which was a small doorway, just large enough to allow the occupants of the cage to pass from one room to the other. The inner compartment of the cage was used for their winter quarters and sleeping apartments; the outer, consisting simply of a well-constructed iron cage, was intended for exercise and summer occupancy. Every movement of this mandril seemed to be closely watched by the monkeys that were in a position to see him, and instantly reported to the others in the adjoining compartment. I watched them for hours, and felt assured that they had a form of speech by means of which they communicated with each other. During the time I remained, I discovered that a certain sound would invariably cause them to act in a certain way, and, in the course of my visit, I discovered that I could myself tell, by the sounds the monkeys would make, just what the mandril was doing – that is, I could tell whether he was asleep or whether he was moving about in his cage. Having interpreted one or two of these sounds, I felt inspired with the belief that I could learn them, and felt that the "key to the secret chamber" was within my grasp.
I regarded the task of learning the speech of a monkey as very much the same as learning that of some strange race of mankind, more difficult in the degree of its inferiority, but less in volume.
Year by year, as new ideas were revealed to me, new barriers arose, and I began to realise how great a task was mine. One difficulty was to utter the sounds I heard, another was to recall them, and yet another to translate them. But impelled by an inordinate hope and not discouraged by poor success, I continued my studies, as best I could, in the Gardens of New York, Philadelphia, Cincinnati and Chicago, and with such specimens as I could find from time to time with travelling shows, hand-organs, aboard some ship, or kept as a family pet. I must acknowledge my debt of gratitude to all these little creatures who have aided me in the study of their native tongue.
Having contended for some years with the difficulties mentioned, a new idea dawned upon me, and, after maturely considering it, I felt assured of ultimate success. I went to Washington, and proposed the novel experiment of acting as interpreter between two monkeys. Of course this first evoked from the great fathers of science a smile of incredulity; but when I explained the means by which I expected to accomplish this, a shadow of seriousness came over the faces of those dignitaries to whom I first proposed the novel feat. I procured a phonograph upon which to record the sounds of the monkeys. I separated two monkeys which had occupied the same cage together for some time, and placed them in separate rooms of the building where they could not see or hear each other. I then arranged the phonograph near the cage of the female, and by various means induced her to utter a few sounds, which were recorded on the cylinder of the phonograph. The machine was then placed near the cage containing the male, and the record repeated to him and his conduct closely studied. He gave evident signs of recognising the sounds, and at once began a search for the mysterious monkey doing the talking. His perplexity at this strange affair cannot well be described. The familiar voice of his mate would induce him to approach, but that squeaking, chattering horn was a feature which he could not comprehend. He traced the sounds, however, to the horn from which they came, and, failing to find his mate, thrust his arm into the horn quite up to his shoulder, then withdrew it, and peeped into it again and again. The expressions of his face were indeed a study. I then secured a few sounds of his voice and delivered them to the female, who showed some signs of interest, but the record was very imperfect and her manner seemed quite indifferent. In this experiment, for the first time in the history of language, was the Simian speech reduced to record; and while the results were not fully up to my hopes, they served to inspire me to further efforts to find the fountain-head from which flows out the great river of human speech. Having satisfied myself that each one recognised the sound made by the other when delivered through the phonograph, I felt rewarded for my labour and assured of the possibility of learning the language of monkeys. The faith of others was strengthened