ORPHEUS AT THE ZOO.
THE result of experiments made upon animals with musical sounds, of which an account appeared last week in the Spectator, was such as to invite a second visit by the violin- player to the inmates of the Zoo. The sun was shining brightly, and most of the animals were just awaking from their morning sleep. Some were not yet awake. The two Polar bears were lying fast asleep in an affectionate embrace, their noses touching, and each with one paw laid on its companion's side, while the other grasped its friend's. Both were dreaming, like dogs on a hearthrug, and gave slight starts and sounds from time to time, and movements of their feet and paws. We seated ourselves on the balustrade of the bridge above, and serenaded the bears. The young one awoke at once, and slowly rolled over, stretched itself, and as the music increased in volume, came out into the main cage to listen. The violin was some ten feet above the level on which the bear was standing. In order to get nearer the sound, it stood up on its hind-legs, and listened intently. It then retired and began to walk backwards and forwards, uttering some half-formed sound. But a fresh burst of music from the violin once more brought it to the front, where it stood up and, spreading its arms wide on either side, pushed its muzzle between the bars. When the musician descended from the balcony and went close to the cage, the bear at once crossed to the place, and sat down to listen, occasionally putting its paws through the bars to try and reach the instrument. It was not until we had ceased to play for some time that the bear left its place against the bars, and sought refreshment in a morning tub. The two grizzly-bears, at the first chord struck, assumed at once an air of the most comic and critical attention, each with its head on one side and its paws clasping the bars. A sudden discord made both bears start back, and the lively tune of "The Keel Row" set them walking up and down the cage. In the lion-house, every head turned to the first sound of the violin ; as the strains continued, the largest lion, to whom the music was more particularly addressed, began to wave the black tuft on its tail from side to side ; and a lioness, which had been asleep in the inner cage, walked straight out towards the violin, and tried to push the lion from its "front seat." But by this time so much public interest was awakened in our experiment that we were obliged to forego our concert to the lions, and seek an audience less subject to interruption. There is a German tale of a fiddler pursued by wolves who was saved by the accidental breaking of a string of his fiddle. The sound of the breaking string frightened the wolves for the moment, and afterwards, the legend adds, he kept them from pulling him from the roof of the hut on which he had taken refuge, by playing continuously. The story of the breaking string frightening the wolves, so far agreed with our experience of the effect of sudden and sharp discords on various animals, that it was decided to make the experiment upon the wolves. The result went far to show that the old legend of their fear of music is based on fact. The common European wolf set up its back, and drew back its lips into a fixed and hideous sneer, showing all its teeth to the gums, With its tail between its legs. The Indian wolf showed signs of extreme and abject fear. It trembled violently, its fur was erected, and cowering down till its body almost touched the ground, it retreated to the furthest corner of its cage. When the music was played at the back of the cage, where the musician was invisible, its alarm was in no degree abated. it crept to the door to listen, and then sprang back and cowered against the bars in front of the cage, and so continued in alternate spasms of curiosity and fear. The jackals and some of the wilder foxes were only less alarmed than the wolves. The female jackals ran back to their inner den and hid themselves. The male erected its fur until it appeared as rough as an Esquimaux dog, and crept back wards and forwards with its lips curled back, opening and shutting its mouth, growling whenever a strong discordant note was struck. The scene at this time was extremely amusing. The prairie-wolves next door sat down to listen, the African jackals sat on a shelf and watched, and the performance was overlooked from a distance by a nervous but highly interested row of foxes of various sizes and colours, all sitting on the party-walls which divide their cages from the wolves and dingoes. It was like a picture from an illustrated edition of ",sop's Fables." The foxes in the large cages came forward readily to listen to the music, though the usual experiment of striking a discord startled them greatly. But the rough fox from Demerara, in a small cage behind the building, was so violently alarmed that the keeper requested that the music might cease, for fear the creature should "have a fit," to which ailment it appears that foxes and wolves are very subject. As might be expected, the sheep found pleasure in sounds which terrified the wolves. The burrhel, or wild sheep of the Himalayas, all came forward to listen, their ears pointed forward to catch the sounds. Some even stood up, and placing their fore-feet against the palings, stretched their necks in the direc- tion of the music. Our violinist appropriately chose "The Shepherd's Call" in William Tell, and this served to engage their attention more than " The Keel Row" or any more violent airs. Like almost all the other creatures, they were startled at a discord.
In the row of sheep-sheds, the music drew out all the inmates, the Markhoor and the Cretan ibex coming forward to listen, and walking back to their food when the music stopped. The old Indian wild boar was an unexpected and appreciative con- vert to the charms of music. It was lying fast asleep in the sun, with its back towards the musician ; but at the first chords, it rose and faced round towards the player. After listening atten- tively, with ears forward, the boar began a series of complacent
grants, and advanced to the front of the pen, until discon- certed by a sharp discordant note, which drove it back several feet. The wild swine from Spain and Africa were also much interested in the music. For some unknown reason, the sounds which pleased the boars offended the African elephant. Setting lap its huge, flapping ears, it flung up its trunk, snorted and whistled like a steam-engine, driving its head against the rails, and exhibiting every mark of anger and dislike. The Indian Bison and the gaur both brought forward their broad ears tolisten, and, resting their muzzles against the railings, seemed I o enjoy the sounds ; a sharp discord caused them to start back, anti produced the same effect on the zebras and African wild am, both of which listened to the harmonious chords with pleasure, and followed the musician from one side of their stall to another. But it was in the monkey-house that the music caused the greatest wonder and excitement. The large monkeys—two of which will never hear the violin again, for 'Sally' and the young ourang-outang have both died since our visit—were more frightened than pleased. 'Tim,' the silvery gibbon, was much agitated, opening and shutting his mouth, and waving his long arms about, until two loud dis- cordant notes were played, when he came flying down from his tree, and flung himself against the bars. The young exu-ang-outang turned his back at once, and made off to the top of his cage, from which not even a banana would tempt him. ' Sally ' listened gravely, with her hands crossed and a far-off look in her eyes, until a strong crescendo was played, when she made an audible and perfectly articulate remark, though, in the absence of Dr. Gamier, we were unable to sezord its meaning. Outside the large monkey-house, a large Tcheli monkey was sitting in a cage apart, thoughtfully chewing a stick. At the sound of the violin, it gave a violent start and frowned, which, however, is not a necessary sign or displeasure in monkeys' physiognomy. When sudden discords were played, it sprang forward and rattled the bars.
e Capuchin monkeys, the species selected by Dr. Gamier r his experiments in monkey-language, showed the strangest most amusing excitement. These pretty little creatures
e wonderfully expressive and intelligent pink faces, with bright-brown eyes and pink lips, and the play and mobility of their faces and bodies while listening to the music was extra- erdinarily rapid. The three in the first cage at first rushed up into their box, and then all peeped out chattering and excited. Due by one they came down and listened to the music with intense curiosity, shrieking and making faces at a crescendo, shaking the wires at a. discord, and putting their heads upside- down in efforts of acute criticism at low and musical passages. Every change of note was marked by some alteration of ex- pression in the faces of the excited little monkeys, and a series of discordant notes roused them to a passion of rage. Most of the other monkeys came up to listen, the Malbrook monkey dropped the clay pipe he was making-believe to smoke, and the white-nosed monkey stole a lady's veil and picked it thoughtfully to pieces. But a big baboon recently brought to the gardens assumed a most comic look of disgust and surprise, and walked off to the utmost limits of its chain.
It. is easier to give a record of such experiments than to speak with confidence of the feelings excited in our various listeners. Darwin, while giving many instances of the expres- sion of anger, pain, and fear, gives few of the expression of pleasure, or the milder emotions of curiosity and contentment. It will not, however, be difficult to show that in many cases the animals at the Zoo did exhibit pleasure and curiosity in a very marked degree ; while, strange to say, in the case of others, anger or fear was shown in all the modes which Darwin has described. With the behaviour of the wolves we may compare his description of the characteristic expression of fear in carnivorous animals, by erecting the hair and un- eavering the teeth and trembling. "Cattle and sheep," says the great naturalist, "are remarkable for displaying their emotions in a very slight degree, except that of extreme pain." But in the case of the wild sheep, and even of the wild cattle, the pleasure and curiosity aroused by the music were plainly shown, as we have described above, by their instant attention and their approach towards the sounds. At the sudden dis- cords they instantly showed displeasure by stamping the feet and retiring. The African elephant gave unmistakable signs of anger ; the wild boar and pigs, of pleasure and curiosity ; and among others which shared these amiable emotions, were beyond doubt the zebras, wild asses, Polar and grizzly bears,
and the ant-eater. No creature seemed wholly indifferent except the seals, and the sudden start and displeasure at a discord was almost universal, from the snakes to the African . elephant. There are many men, perhaps many races of men, who could not detect a discord, and would be indifferent alike to harmony and its opposite. Must we not, then, infer that, owing to some greater sensitiveness of the organ, most animals have a musical ear, and that the stories of Orpheus and his lute have, at any rate, a basis in the facts of animal esthetics P
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