Monkeys and the Mirror—Some of their Antics—Baby Macaque and her Papa—Some other Monkeys.

I have incidentally mentioned elsewhere the use of the mirror in some of my experiments, but I have not described in detail how it affected various monkeys. Of course, it does not always affect the same monkey in the same way at different times, nor does it affect all monkeys of the same species in exactly the same way, and therefore I cannot deduce a rule from my experiments by which the species can be determined by its conduct before the glass.

When Puck saw himself in the mirror he undoubtedly mistook the image for another monkey, to which he would talk more freely than he would to the sounds made by the phonograph. He would frequently caress the image, and show signs of friendship; at the same time he was very timid and retiring.

Nellie would chatter to herself in the mirror, and seemed never to tire of looking at that beautiful monkey she saw there, and I do not think the propensity could be accounted for merely by her sex. I do not think she ever quite understood where that monkey was concealed, and the scores of times in a day that she would turn the glass around was evidence that she never fully despaired of finding it.

I accidentally dropped a small mirror one day by the cage in which there was a green monkey. The glass was broken into many small pieces. Quick as thought, the green monkey thrust her arm through the bars, grabbed the largest piece, and got it into her cage before I was fully aware of what she was trying to do. The fragment was about an inch wide by an inch and a half long. She caught a glimpse of herself in the glass, and her conduct was more like that of a crazy monkey than anything I can compare it to. She peeped into the fragment of the mirror, which she seemed to regard as a hole in something which separated her from another monkey. She held it up over her head at arm's-length, laid it down on the floor, held it against the wall, and twisted herself into every pose to get a better peep at that mysterious monkey on the other side of something, she could not tell what. When the glass was reversed, she seemed much perplexed, and would sometimes jump high off the floor, and turn herself entirely around, as if to untangle the mystery. Then again she would discover the right side of the glass, and would go through these antics again. Several times while holding it against the wall she would put her eyes close up against the glass, just as she would to a knot-hole in the wall. I tried in vain for some time to get the glass away from her lest she might injure herself with it, but only succeeded after considerable labour and through the help of her keeper.

McGinty always tries to find the image behind the glass. He reaches his little black hand as far as he can around behind it, peeps over and under it, pecks on the glass with his fingers, kisses and caresses it, and grins at it with infinite delight. He often tries to turn the glass around to look on the back of it, and when he finds no monkey there he works his eyebrows as if perplexed, and utters a sound which reminds me of a child under similar circumstances saying "gone" when in play something is concealed from it to make the child believe it is lost. Then he will suddenly turn the glass around again, as if the thought had just occurred to him, and when he again discovers the image, he will laugh, chatter, peep and peck at the glass, as if to say "There it is, there it is!" But, like all other monkeys, he does not quite understand where that monkey conceals itself when he peeps over the glass.

Mickie does not appear to enjoy the sight of himself in the glass. He always looks at it earnestly but doubtfully, and utters a low sound in a kind of undertone, frowns and scowls as though he regarded the new monkey as an intruder. He rarely talks to the image only with this low, muttering sound, and never tries to find it by reaching his hand behind the glass or making any other investigation. Mickie, however, has been very much petted, in consequence of which he is very selfish, just as children become under like treatment.

Little Nemo always looked at himself in the glass in the most inquisitive and respectful manner, without ever winking an eye or betraying any sign of emotion, except that he would caress the image in the glass over and over again by pressing his lips to it in perfect silence. Indeed, his conduct would suggest to you that he regarded the image as a portrait of some dear departed one, which awoke the tender memories of the past and filled the heart too full for utterance. His sedate manners were very becoming.

Dodo always appeared to be afraid of the image. She would merely take a peep and turn away. She would sometimes utter a single sound, but rarely touched her mouth to the glass, and never felt behind it for the other monkey. This, perhaps, was due to the fact that she was afraid of some of the other inmates of the cage, and I do not think that she desired the colony increased.

Nigger always showed great interest in the mirror when left alone, but when the other monkeys would crowd around to peep into the glass he would always leave to avoid trouble with them.

"Uncle Remus," the white-face, always goes through a series of facial contortions with the gravity of a rural judge. He will look into the glass, and then at me, as if to say "Where did you get that monkey?"

The little baby Macaque, who was born in Central Park, tries to engage the image in a romp, reaches for it in the glass, clucks, jumps playfully to her perch, and looks back to see if the image follows; then she will return to the glass, and try again to induce the little ghost to join her in her play. Again, she will spring to her perch, looking back, but does not understand why it will not join her. During all this, the baby's father, a sedate old Macaque, looks on with suspicion and a scowl, and on a few occasions has pulled the baby away from the glass, as if he knew that there was something wrong, and expressed his opinion in a low, ominous growl. He reminds me at times of some people whom I have seen that look very wise, and intimate by their conduct that they know something.

Another little Macaque makes the most indescribable faces, and works her lips in that peculiar fashion which I have elsewhere described, but she does not utter one sound. She merely looks in silence, and never tries to find the monkey concealed behind the glass.

The spider monkey is a study worthy of great minds. When shown her image in the glass, she takes her seat on the floor, crosses her legs, and fixes herself as if she expected to spend the day there. She will then look into the glass and utter a low sound, and begin to reach out her long arms in search of the other monkey. It is surprising to see how she will adjust her reach as you change positions with the glass. Of course, as you remove the mirror from her the image is removed accordingly, and she extends or contracts her reach to suit that distance. This is not, however, an evidence of her mathematical skill, since to her mind the image is doubtless a real thing, and she is governed by the same instinct or judgment in reaching for it as she would be if it were real. More than any other, the spider monkey seems to admire herself in the glass; notwithstanding she is about the homeliest of all the Simian tribes, yet she will sit for hours in almost perfect silence, and gaze upon her image.