Volume I Part 12 (1/2)
6. _Of Attention._
The eye takes in at once but half our horizon, and that only in the day, and our smell informs us of no very distant objects, hence we confide princ.i.p.ally in the organ of hearing to apprize us of danger: when we hear any the smallest sound, that we cannot immediately account for, our fears are alarmed, we suspend our steps, hold every muscle still, open our mouths a little, erect our ears, and listen to gain further information: and this by habit becomes the general language of attention to objects of sight, as well as of hearing; and even to the successive trains of our ideas.
The natural language of violent pain, which is expressed by writhing the body, grinning, and screaming; and that of tumultuous pleasure, expressed in loud laughter; belong to Section x.x.xIV. on Diseases from Volition.
IX. It must have already appeared to the reader, that all other animals, as well as man, are possessed of this natural language of the pa.s.sions, expressed in signs or tones; and we shall endeavour to evince, that those animals, which have preserved themselves from being enslaved by mankind, and are a.s.sociated in flocks, are also possessed of some artificial language, and of some traditional knowledge.
The mother-turkey, when she eyes a kite hovering high in air, has either seen her own parents thrown into fear at his presence, or has by observation been acquainted with his dangerous designs upon her young. She becomes agitated with fear, and uses the natural language of that pa.s.sion, her young ones catch the fear by imitation, and in an instant conceal themselves in the gra.s.s.
At the same time that she shews her fears by her gesture and deportment, she uses a certain exclamation, Koe-ut, Koe-ut, and the young ones afterwards know, when they hear this note, though they do not see their dam, that the presence of their adversary is denounced, and hide themselves as before.
The wild tribes of birds have very frequent opportunities of knowing their enemies, by observing the destruction they make among their progeny, of which every year but a small part escapes to maturity: but to our domestic birds these opportunities so rarely occur, that their knowledge of their distant enemies must frequently be delivered by tradition in the manner above explained, through many generations.
This note of danger, as well as the other notes of the mother-turkey, when she calls her flock to their food, or to sleep under her wings, appears to be an artificial language, both as expressed by the mother, and as understood by the progeny. For a hen teaches this language with equal ease to the ducklings, she has hatched from suppositious eggs, and educates as her own offspring: and the wagtails, or hedge-sparrows, learn it from the young cuckoo their softer nursling, and supply him with food long after he can fly about, whenever they hear his cuckooing, which Linnaeus tells us, is his call of hunger, (Syst. Nat.) And all our domestic animals are readily taught to come to us for food, when we use one tone of voice, and to fly from our anger, when we use another.
Rabbits, as they cannot easily articulate sounds, and are formed into societies, that live under ground, have a very different method of giving alarm. When danger is threatened, they thump on the ground with one of their hinder feet, and produce a sound, that can be heard a great way by animals near the surface of the earth, which would seem to be an artificial sign both from its singularity and its aptness to the situation of the animal.
The rabbits on the island of Sor, near Senegal, have white flesh, and are well tasted, but do not burrow in the earth, so that we may suspect their digging themselves houses in this cold climate is an acquired art, as well as their note of alarm, (Adanson's Voyage to Senegal).
The barking of dogs is another curious note of alarm, and would seem to be an acquired language, rather than a natural sign: for ”in the island of Juan Fernandes, the dogs did not attempt to bark, till some European dogs were put among them, and then they gradually begun to imitate them, but in a strange manner at first, as if they were learning a thing that was not natural to them,” (Voyage to South America by Don G. Juan, and Don Ant. de Ulloa. B. 2. c. 4).
Linnaeus also observes, that the dogs of South America do not bark at strangers, (Syst. Nat.) And the European dogs, that have been carried to Guinea, are said in three or four generations to cease to bark, and only howl, like the dogs that are natives of that coast, (World Displayed, Vol.
XVII. p. 26.)
A circ.u.mstance not dissimilar to this, and equally curious, is mentioned by Kircherus, de Musurgia, in his Chapter de Lusciniis, ”That the young nightingales, that are hatched under other birds, never sing till they are instructed by the company of other nightingales.” And Jonston affirms, that the nightingales that visit Scotland, have not the same harmony as those of Italy, (Pennant's Zoology, octavo, p. 255); which would lead us to suspect that the singing of birds, like human music, is an artificial language rather than a natural expression of pa.s.sion.
X. Our music like our language, is perhaps entirely const.i.tuted of artificial tones, which by habit suggest certain agreeable pa.s.sions. For the same combination of notes and tones do not excite devotion, love, or poetic melancholy in a native of Indostan and of Europe. And ”the Highlander has the same warlike ideas annexed to the sound of a bagpipe (an instrument which an Englishman derides), as the Englishman has to that of a trumpet or fife,” (Dr. Brown's Union of Poetry and Music, p. 58.) So ”the music of the Turks is very different from the Italian, and the people of Fez and Morocco have again a different kind, which to us appears very rough and horrid, but is highly pleasing to them,” (L'Arte Armoniaca a Giorgio Antoniotto). Hence we see why the Italian opera does not delight an untutored Englishman; and why those, who are unaccustomed to music, are more pleased with a tune, the second or third time they hear it, than the first. For then the same melodious train of sounds excites the melancholy, they had learned from the song; or the same vivid combination of them recalls all the mirthful ideas of the dance and company.
Even the sounds, that were once disagreeable to us, may by habit be a.s.sociated with other ideas, so as to become agreeable. Father Lasitau, in his account of the Iroquois, says ”the music and dance of those Americans, have something in them extremely barbarous, which at first disgusts. We grow reconciled to them by degrees, and in the end partake of them with pleasure, the savages themselves are fond of them to distraction,” (Moeurs des Savages, Tom. ii.)
There are indeed a few sounds, that we very generally a.s.sociate with agreeable ideas, as the whistling of birds, or purring of animals, that are delighted; and some others, that we as generally a.s.sociate with disagreeable ideas, as the cries of animals in pain, the hiss of some of them in anger, and the midnight howl of beasts of prey. Yet we receive no terrible or sublime ideas from the lowing of a cow, or the braying of an a.s.s. Which evinces, that these emotions are owing to previous a.s.sociations.
So if the rumbling of a carriage in the street be for a moment mistaken for thunder, we receive a sublime sensation, which ceases as soon as we know it is the noise of a coach and six.
There are other disagreeable sounds, that are said to set the teeth on edge; which, as they have always been thought a necessary effect of certain discordant notes, become a proper subject of our enquiry. Every one in his childhood has repeatedly bit a part of the gla.s.s or earthen vessel, in which his food has been given him, and has thence had a very disagreeable sensation in the teeth, which sensation was designed by nature to prevent us from exerting them on objects harder than themselves. The jarring sound produced between the cup and the teeth is always attendant on this disagreeable sensation: and ever after when such a sound is accidentally produced by the conflict of two hard bodies, we feel by a.s.sociation of ideas the concomitant disagreeable sensation in our teeth.
Others have in their infancy frequently held the corner of a silk handkerchief in their mouth, or the end of the velvet cape of their coat, whilst their companions in play have plucked it from them, and have given another disagreeable sensation to their teeth, which has afterwards recurred on touching those materials. And the sight of a knife drawn along a china plate, though no sound is excited by it, and even the imagination of such a knife and plate so sc.r.a.ped together, I know by repeated experience will produce the same disagreeable sensation of the teeth.
These circ.u.mstances indisputably prove, that this sensation of the tooth-edge is owing to a.s.sociated ideas; as it is equally excitable by sight, touch, hearing, or imagination.
In respect to the artificial proportions of sound excited by musical instruments, those, who have early in life a.s.sociated them with agreeable ideas, and have nicely attended to distinguish them from each other, are said to have a good ear, in that country where such proportions are in fas.h.i.+on: and not from any superior perfection in the organ of hearing, or any intuitive sympathy between certain sounds and pa.s.sions.
I have observed a child to be exquisitely delighted with music, and who could with great facility learn to sing any tune that he heard distinctly, and yet whole organ of hearing was so imperfect, that it was necessary to speak louder to him in common conversation than to others.
Our music, like our architecture, seems to have no foundation in nature, they are both arts purely of human creation, as they imitate nothing. And the professors of them have only cla.s.sed those circ.u.mstances, that are most agreeable to the accidental taste of their age, or country; and have called it Proportion. But this proportion must always fluctuate, as it rests on the caprices, that are introduced into our minds by our various modes of education. And these fluctuations of taste must become more frequent in the present age, where mankind have enfranchised themselves from the blind obedience to the rules of antiquity in perhaps every science, but that of architecture. See Sect. XII. 7. 3.
XI. There are many articles of knowledge, which the animals in cultivated countries seem to learn very early in their lives, either from each other, or from experience, or observation: one of the most general of these is to avoid mankind. There is so great a resemblance in the natural language of the pa.s.sions of all animals, that we generally know, when they are in a pacific, or in a malevolent humour, they have the same knowledge of us; and hence we can scold them from us by some tones and gestures, and could possibly attract them to us by others, if they were not already apprized of our general malevolence towards them. Mr. Gmelin, Professor at Petersburg, a.s.sures us, that in his journey into Siberia, undertaken by order of the Empress of Russia, he saw foxes, that expressed no fear of himself or companions, but permitted him to come quite near them, having never seen the human creature before. And Mr. Bongainville relates, that at his arrival at the Malouine, or Falkland's Islands, which were not inhabited by men, all the animals came about himself and his people; the fowls settling upon their heads and shoulders, and the quadrupeds running about their feet. From the difficulty of acquiring the confidence of old animals, and the ease of taming young ones, it appears that the fear, they all conceive at the sight of mankind, is an acquired article of knowledge.
This knowledge is more nicely understood by rooks, who are formed into societies, and build, as it were, cities over our heads; they evidently distinguish, that the danger is greater when a man is armed with a gun.
Every one has seen this, who in the spring of the year has walked under a rookery with a gun in his hand: the inhabitants of the trees rise on their wings, and scream to the unfledged young to shrink into their nests from the sight of the enemy. The vulgar observing this circ.u.mstance so uniformly to occur, a.s.sert that rooks can smell gun-powder.
The fieldfares, (t.u.r.dus pilarus) which breed in Norway, and come hither in the cold season for our winter berries; as they are a.s.sociated in flocks, and are in a foreign country, have evident marks of keeping a kind of watch, to remark and announce the appearance of danger. On approaching a tree, that is covered with them, they continue fearless till one at the extremity of the bush rising on his wings gives a loud and peculiar note of alarm, when they all immediately fly, except one other, who continues till you approach still nearer, to certify as it were the reality of the danger, and then he also flies off repeating the note of alarm.