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.

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.

Among the Java monkeys are several varieties which make very good pets. They show a fair degree of intelligence and docility, and are not generally very vicious. I have not succeeded in making any very good records of these monkeys, although I have observed, without the aid of the phonograph, that they have one or two very distinct and well-marked sounds. I have not up to this time attempted to differentiate their sounds, but in a general way have interpreted the meanings of one or two groups of them, especially those of a friendly character. I may with propriety remark here, that in all the different tongues of monkeys there appear to be certain words which are much more significant, of a much better phonetic type, than the others, and occur much more frequently among their sounds. This appears to be true of the speech or sounds of all the lower animals.

In a former chapter I have described the happy little family in Central Park, which consisted of the five little brown cousins, only a few months ago; but death has reduced their number to two. In this connection I shall mention a very important fact concerning the use of the natural senses of these animals. I have several times been assured that monkeys depended more upon their sense of smell than upon that of sight as a means of recognition, and that in this respect they were very much like the canines. I have made frequent tests of the power of their senses, and am prepared to say with certainty that such is not the case. When I visit the Park, I frequently enter at Sixty-fourth Street and Fifth Avenue, at which place there is a flight of stairs leading from the street down to a large plazza in front of the Old Armoury; and something more than a hundred feet from the foot of the stairway, and nearly at right angles to it, is a window opening into the monkey-house by the cage occupied by these particular monkeys. When I descend the stairway and come within view of this window, they frequently see me as I reach the plazza, and the keeper always knows of my approach by the conduct of the monkeys, who recognise me the instant I come in sight at that distance. At other times I have approached the house from another direction, and come within a few feet of their cage, where I have stood for some time, in order to ascertain whether they were aware of my presence; and on a few occasions have slipped into the house with the crowd, and they did not detect my presence except by sight. It is evident, if they depended upon the sense of smell, that they would have discovered my presence when so near them, although they could not see me. But no matter what the condition of the weather, or how many people are present, the instant one of them sees me he spreads the news, and every inmate of the cage rushes to the window and begins to scream at the top of his voice. If their sense of smell was such as to enable them to detect my presence as a dog would, it is reasonable also that the monkey which possessed the most sensitive organs would have been the first to detect it in each case; whereas, sometimes one monkey, and sometimes another, made the discovery. It is my belief, however, that their sense of smell is much more acute than that of man, but far less so than that of most other animals, especially the dog. HEARING VERY DELICATEThe sense of hearing in these animals is very delicate, as may be seen from the account of Nellie discovering my footsteps on the lower stairway, and as I have witnessed in scores of other cases. The same is true also of their sight; their eyes are like a photo-camera, nothing ever escapes them. I think their organs of taste are also quite sensitive, as I have made some tests from time to time, and find them very hard to deceive. The sense of touch, which is rather obtuse in most animals, is much more acute in these. I have frequently interlaced my fingers with those of some person whom they dislike, and extending the hand towards them, they rarely make a mistake by getting hold of the wrong finger, and yet it has frequently occurred that they could not see the hands at all, and had to depend alone upon the sense of touch. In cases where the hands were very nearly the same size they were not able to select the fingers so readily, but where a lady's hand was used, or that of a boy, the selection was made without hesitancy and without error. I have tried this experiment a great many times with a view to ascertaining to some extent the delicacy of their sense of touch. Another fact that I may mention is, that they do not habitually smell articles of food or other things given to them; but they depend chiefly upon their sight for finding and their taste for choosing their food. My opinion is, that the sense of smell does not play an important part in these affairs. I may add, too, that, in the Cebus, his tail is perhaps the most sensitive organ of touch, although it is not used in this capacity to any great extent. He is generally very watchful over this useful member, because it serves him in so many ways, and I think perhaps it is safe to say that the tail is the last part of the monkey that ever becomes tame.