The Speech of Monkeys

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.