I shall now give a few specimens of the almost unintelligible answers dragged from her, as it were, after much grave reproach:

16 August, 1916: "Lola, rap something!" "mal one lif unartig sein." "What is the meaning of 'lif'? do you mean 'when you ran'?" (lief = ran, the past tense of laufen = to run). "no." "Did you learn that word from me?" "yes." "Then explain yourself." "ich rante in wald zu re" ( = I ran in the wood after deer). Apparently she was in no mood for explanations, and it was only after wrestling with her that I could get any sequence of words at all. At other times when urged to get on with the subject she will in her contrariness rap as follows: "o zu ich" or "e wo zu" or "zum zu wozu" or "we" and so on—letters with which it is rarely possible to put together even such small words as wo ( = where) or zu ( = to, or for) and the longer one persists on such occasions, the more senseless her remarks become; it is the rarest thing for her to suddenly pull herself together so as to give a proper answer. And here again I can find no excuse for her behaviour; though it may be that she dislikes my persistence, and therefore has recourse to any nonsense by way of a quick reply! So as to get her in some manner to recognize the errors of her ways I have again and again persevered with the utmost patience, so as to arrive at some consistent answer—yet all I have succeeded in arousing, has been increased reluctance on the dog's part.



MATTERS WHICH—SO FAR—ARE UNACCOUNTED FOR, OR UNEXPLAINED

As will, indeed, be evident, there is still much that remains unexplained; much that it will be the task of the future to throw light upon. Tests which have been but uncertain in their results; accidental discoveries, the importance of which only becomes evident, after the results have been tested in connexion with a number of animals. Among these may be placed the more recent experiments dealing with the sense of scent, undertaken by Professor Jaeger, and in this category should be placed also what I think to be a rather interesting test connected with Lola: I was at the time staying with my family at Hohenheim, and I asked the dog how many pups her mother had had—including herself: she answered "12." I inquired of Professor Kraemer if this was so, and he said that at the time at which he had seen them there had only been eleven. I then made the same inquiry in Mannheim, and found that there had been twelve, but that one had died immediately after birth. It was the only instance of which Lola knew about a dog having pups, so one day I asked her in fun (19 June, 1916). "How many children will you have?" (Thinking that the answer would be 12). At first she replied with "yes!" "Do you know how many? why that's impossible!" But she rapped "9." "How many boys?" I asked. "3." "And how many girls?" "6." I thought that this statement was due merely to her desire to make some answer, so I put the same question the next day—but the reply was again, "9." So I told my friend about this and we awaited the interesting event in much suspense—it took place on the 22 June, 1916, in the presence of my friend, the housekeeper and myself and—there were nine puppies! two males and seven little lady-dogs. I kept two of each, the others being put to death at once by one of the farm hands, for—owing to the war, as well as to the fact that the pups were not thoroughbreds, I could not undertake to bring them all up. But, the question is—how could Lola have known that there would be nine?[21]

[21] At a meeting held by the Rolf Society at Stuttgart, Professor Ziegler accounted for this accurate knowledge by declaring that—prior to birth—the puppies lie in a row within their mother's womb, and that if one moves, the others proceed to move also, but only one after the other.



ALTERATIONS IN CHARACTER

As a result of all that has here been stated, the question may very naturally arise: are there any indications such as lead to suspect a change of character, or do any other practical results follow on these educational tests? Now, Lola is by nature lovable, lively, full of fun, and she has retained these traits to the present day. Her great excitability has diminished, it is true, but this is probably due to her having grown more staid with years. Yet a difference is also to be found where her character—her dog-soul—is in question: it may be noticed in the suspicious way in which she now regards people, as though she were "drawing comparisons" between them and herself. We have, in fact, fallen somewhat in her estimation. She "asks"—so to speak—as to where our vaunted superiority may lie, and would seem to compare her newly-acquired knowledge—together with the existence forced upon her—with the life that is ours. Since she has made these "educational advances" one can often see in her eyes something that amounts to an angry reproach—something like an impatient question, as to why we have so much food and freedom as compared with what is meted out to her. She follows our thoughts to a great extent, and our abilities no longer seem to impress her, since—to her—it is only those which she herself has mastered that come under this heading at all, and here—a slight contempt for the "oppressor" is often discernable. There is also a greater show of independence and frequent contrariness, owing to her diminished respect for our "species," in short—it becomes more difficult to deal with the dog. The days of blind confidence are past—even though an innate sense of devotion to man remains, for what has just been said, seems always to occur more as the result of "moments of reflection." Indeed, this entire educational process would have little that is joyful about it, were it not for the feeling that the animal understands its friend, and is in a position to converse with us within certain limits, and this outweighs and compensates for all the rest!

As to the practical results—I can say little that is favourable. The dog's thinking seems to be at variance with her acts: thought can therefore, have little influence upon a dog's behaviour, for—as has been the case with dogs of every kind, from time immemorial—its actions are due to the excitement of the outer senses, such as scent, taste, and hearing, and any emotions observable are but the direct and inward continuation of those external sensations, and, as such, last but for a given time. What we may term the "thought form" that is bound to any given word, representing objective thought in its simplest form, rotates within a very limited circle, and is powerless over the animal's feeling. For instance: Lola knows that she is forbidden to "hunt" i.e. to go after the game, etc., indeed she has shown in many of her replies that she is well aware of what "totgeschossen" ( = to be shot dead) means. And yet—once the scent is up, off she goes, and nothing will prevent her—for, she must go!

This is a particularly strong characteristic which beating and being deprived of her food may sometimes check, but which her own powers of reflection do not cure: and it is the same thing with most of her faults. At times it will be unreasoning obstinacy, but even where she uses a certain amount of reflection, the result is identical. It has been no better where—with the help of thought—we have endeavoured to bring about actual results. An animal can be got to understand and carry out certain injunctions, such as—"sit up and beg," "lift up your paw," "go to your bed," "go out of the door," and much more of the same description, while after instruction it will understand "behind the stove lies a biscuit," yet action seldom results from such knowledge. The dog's eyes will brighten, and it is evident that it has perfectly well comprehended the meaning of the words, indeed—this much can be easily ascertained by questioning it—but the dog will seem incapable of translating what it has comprehended into action. At such times Lola will rush about, as if her limbs would not obey—as though the influence she could bring to bear on them was not sufficiently powerful—and the final result is excitement. Connexion with the motor-nerves does not come into being in response to the action of the cerebrum. As the result of repeated written and spoken orders it is possible (with a certain amount of additional aid) to set up this connexion from without, yet, even then, the actual effect is but moderately successful. On the other hand, action in the reverse way—from the nerves or senses to the brain—is easy where the dog is concerned. Lola can report about things she has done, such as—"saw deer," "drank milk," "went into wood," "was naughty," "ate some of the cow," for reflection gives more time to master the subject, and to notice what is past, and this will therefore show, that in the way of practical results, the best will be those obtained by asking a dog what he has seen, heard, or scented, etc. Indeed, it is along these lines that the police dogs have proved their worth and importance. Yet it is very necessary that one should make sure that one's dog is not a liar, but an animal capable of taking up its job in the right manner. With our present knowledge, however, we are unlikely to achieve very much, since we cannot say to a dog—"go here or there"—or—"take this letter to so and so."

Not but what dogs have—in exceptional cases and after training—learnt to carry out such instructions, but it has resulted without their thought-activity having been developed. They get familiar with a certain road, and—basket in mouth—they will proceed to the baker's but—independently of habit and external impression—by the mere appeal to the brain or by means of the most persuasive words, we can attain to nothing worth mentioning, nothing that could be of distinct value, where a dog is kept for use. The sense, the object, and the reason for this educational work must be sought on other grounds.



A VARIETY OF ANSWERS

It was some time after Lola had mastered the art of spelling before I was able to get her to make independent replies. The first of these was given on the 13 April, 1916, and from that time onward they became easier and more frequent: most of those I have set down date from that period. These answers were at once noted, according to their numerals, and when the sentence was complete it was transposed into letters of the alphabet. Whenever there were any spelling mistakes, the words were placed before her, and she was told to name each successive wrong letter in reading over her answer. As I knew the equivalent letters, I was able to write them down at once, and if the reply was a short one and no paper at hand, I could memorize the letters, and enter them in a book as soon as the lesson was over—adding the questions to which such answers had been given as well as the dates. All other questions and answers, as well as particulars relating to new exercises were also set down here.

Here is an answer I received from her on the 13 April, 1916: Lola was staying with me at Hohenheim, where we had arrived on the previous day, and I proceeded to Stuttgart in the morning. When I got home in the evening I asked Lola: "Is it nice here? have you had good food at father's?" to which the answer—quite wide of the mark—was—"wo wald?" ( = where is the wood?) For I had been telling her about all she would be able to enjoy and that, among other delights, there would be the woods; as however, her afternoon walk had only lain through the fields, her mind was now absorbed with the one idea—"where was the wood?"—to the oblivion of everything else.

15 April: On this day the written question was put to her: "Why does Lola like going in the woods?" the reply was at once forthcoming, and I dictated it to Frau Professor Kindermann. "Where there is wood also deer and hare"—she was not quite clear in her spelling at first, indeed, in this respect she sometimes reminds one of a foreigner—as also in the matter of her grammatical mistakes.

The next day, after having done a few sums to please some friends who were present, she was asked: "Who is the dog in the room?" "I!" she replied—not "Lola" as we had all expected. (Rolf has as yet never alluded to himself as "I"!)

Two days later she was asked in writing: "How many dogs can reckon and spell?" To this she began her reply in a very brisk and lively mood, but soon wavered, as though at a loss for the right expressions, then followed a short pause—and finally she resumed her rapping with renewed animation. The reply, it will be noticed, is detailed, and does not keep to the plain question that had been put. "how many have been taken (for it)? Rolf talks, counts; two more" (short pause) "I also, also heinz and ilse." For, so as to fire her ambition, I had told her about her brother and sister, Heinz and Ilse.

19 April: "Lola," I asked, "what was it that ran away from you on the meadow?" "cat!" "What did you want to do with the poor cat?" "kill!" "Have you no pity?" "no!" "Then is the cat right if she kills you?" "no!" "Why?" (The reply to this was rapped indistinctly.) "Have you no pity for any man or animal?" "for dog!"...

22 April: I had told her that my brother was coming, and that he wore a field-grey coat and was a soldier. When he arrived I said to her: "Who is this?" "Your brother."

Next day she was asked in writing: "What did Lola see swimming in the water?" "duck!" I had shown her a duck on the previous afternoon.

26 April: On this day Lola appeared before Professors Kraemer, Mack, Kindermann and Ziegler, of Hohenheim, which resulted in these gentlemen forwarding the following statement to the "Mitteilungen fuer Tierpsychologie" ( = Communications respecting the psychology of Animals), series 1916; Number 1, p. 11:

"EXAMINATION OF LOLA BY PROFESSORS KRAeMER, MACK, KINDERMANN AND ZIEGLER

"In our presence Lola solved a number of sums, such as: 5 + 8 = 13. 30 + 10 - 15 = 25. 4 Mark - 1 mark 20 = 2 mark. 80.

"She next counted the number of persons present. After this, several dots were scattered about a sheet of paper: at first she put their number down as 19—but corrected this to 18. Lola then told us the time: it was 4.16m., and after this she did some spelling. When shown the picture of a flower she rapped: "blum" (Blume = flower), and to my somewhat faulty drawing of a cat she responded with "tir" (Tier = animal), while finally to the question of what was the name of the Mannheim dog she replied "mein fadr" (Vater = father)—we all having expected her to say Rolf. Then followed the musical tests which amazed us most of all, for here she exhibited an ability lacking in many an individual."

* * * * *

27 April: Lola very tired: groans and does everything wrong. I said: "Are you lazy?" She replies "no." "Then why are you answering so badly?" "go!" "Who is to go?" "tired!"

29 April: I asked Lola why she had not attended to me on the 22nd, when—on a country expedition we had made together—she had insisted on running after the game when I had called her back. I had had to hunt after her for ten hours the next day, finding her—by the merest chance—at a peasant's house. She had settled down there alongside of a sheep-dog to watch the sheep, and seemed by no means pleased to see me; usually she is delighted! Her reply on this occasion was—"Lola went in wood, also lay down and was hungry." I returned to the question later in the afternoon when she made the rejoinder—"sought, didn't find."

30 April: Once more I returned to the incident mentioned above and Lola answered "to marry a dog"—(the consequences of this escapade becoming apparent, when Lola presented us with her litter of pups on 22 June). Then Lola added a spontaneous remark on her own account for, seeing a biscuit in my hand, she rapped "I to eat!"

* * * * *

On 1 May little was forthcoming in the matter of arithmetic—with which we always began our lessons, for Lola rapped: "too tired."

3 May: In reply to my question as to what she had had to eat at the peasant's house she said: "milk."

The next day I asked her "where is my friend living now?" to which she answered. "Hanhof." (N.B. A name under which she includes the entire district). "What is the colour of the woods now?" And she answered. "Green." Then "Why are you looking at me so crossly?" "We." "In your head?" "Yes." "What has given you a headache?" "Learning."

8 May: Lola had been rolling herself about in some frightfully smelly mess—a thing she, like other dogs, never loses an opportunity of doing. "Do you like that smell?" I asked. "Yes!" "But don't you know quite well that I do not like it?" "Yes!" "Then why do you always do it again and again?" "I love it so!" The same afternoon, after her musical tests, the maid came into the room to lay the fire. "What is Kaetchen doing at the stove?" I asked. "Fire," replied Lola.

The next day: "Lola! who do you like best of all people and animals?" "Ich!" (1). "If you mean yourself you should say "mich" (myself)", so she at once rapped "mich!" "And after yourself?" "Dich!" ("thee," the familiar of you commonly used in German). A frank remark, at all events, and without the taint of human egoism!

10 May: Lola has been gnawing a bone: not knowing of what animal it was, I put the question to her and she replied: "re" (reh = deer). The truth of this being confirmed in the kitchen. I then asked: "What bones do you like best—deer, hares, wuzl" (this is her own name for a pig), "or ox?" Answer: "Wuzl!" "Are you pleased that you know more than other dogs?" "No." And then—as though after due reflection—"no!" (Emphatically.)

11 May: I showed Lola a biscuit, shaped rather imperfectly in the form of a fish, saying: "What is this—an animal that swims in the water?" Reply: "Fish!" In this case I do not think she had really recognized it, but had named the only animal she knew of connected with water, which—after all—was rather clever of her!

12 May: "Lola!" I asked, "would you like to be a human being?" "No." "Why not?" I asked—showing her a biscuit. She (promptly): "I eat!" "No! not till you have answered!" "Because of work!" A little later I said: "Do you belong to me Lola?" Very energetically—"No!" "To whom do you belong then?" "To myself." "And to whom do I belong? do I belong to you?" "No!" "Whose Henny am I?" "Your own!" These amusing answers bear the very impress of the animal's sense of independence: she is loth to be considered a "chattel," like some chair or table!

17 May: In the presence of my friend and of two dogs I asked her—"Lola, why don't you like Dick?" (Dick being one of the dogs present.) "Too wild!" was Lola's comment. "What do you like best to eat?" "Ich ese wi so mag!" "Is that quite correct?" "No." "Which word should be different?" "4!" "Then what should it be?" "Ich." "So it is to be: ich esse wie ich mag?" "Ja!" ( = I eat as (or what) I choose.)

31 May: Lola did her sums badly, and I spoke very seriously to her; after which she improved, rapping out an independent remark: "say I am good!" She wanted to hear that I was ready to "make it up" again! That evening, some friends being present—I wrote on a scrap of paper—"bon jour!" showed it to her for a moment and then removed it, saying: "now rap what you have read!" And she rapped: "bon jur!" Having only missed out the "o"; the word had not been spoken, so that I had naturally thought to see the "o" among the other letters.

2 June: Lola was to write a letter to a lady whose daughter had been staying with me on a visit. The dog was much attached to this young lady, and had frequently worked with her. She began her letter with all sorts of nonsense so that at length I said: "First rap 'dear' and then tell her about the biscuits you had from Irene."

The letter: "Dear, certainly Irene is very nice to me" ... then "were" ... "What's the meaning of that?" I interrupted, but Lola lay down and said "Zu we!" ( = too indisposed.)

3 June: "Will you work now?" "No—we!" "Where have you a pain?" "O sag!" "What am I to say?" "Oh seh!" "But what am I to see?" "Ich!" "I am to look and see where you have a pain?" "Yes, yes!" But these "pains" seemed to have been called forth by laziness and possibly some slight fatigue.

15 June: A lady has come to stay with me for a few days and I said to Lola: "Why do you like Fraeulien Grethe?" "Ich is zu artig." (This is indistinct but probably meant she is kind to me.) Presumably she could think of nothing else to say.

25 June: Lola had been brought indoors—away from her young family, and I said: "Is there anything you would like to have in the stable, now think?" "wenig uzi!" "What is uzi? do you mean music?" Answer. "Lid" ( = lied.) "What is that—singing?" "Yes!" "Do you like to listen to us when we sing?" "Yes, yes!"

24 July: "Lola! now think of something I am to do: give me an order!" (By the way, in reply to a similar question put to Rolf by the wife of Colonel Schweizerbarth, at Degerloch, he had commanded her to "wedeln" ( = to wag!) N.B. This word being only used in connexion with a tail in German!) But Lola merely ordered me "to work"—"What am I to work at?" I inquired. "Raking the garden, reckoning, writing or reading?" And I was somewhat surprised, for she was used to seeing me at work at something or other for the greater part of the day; but after mature reflection she added—"ales" (Alles = everything).

27 July: To-day I invited her to tell me something she might be thinking about, adding: "Will you say something?" "Ja, esen." "Oh, Lola!" I said in desperation, "why all this talk about eating! about food! don't I hear enough of it from senseless labourers and maids? and now you begin too! It can't be otherwise, at present: say something else!" "Ich am esen" ... "What? again! well go on" "... zu wenig narung." "Ich am essen zu wenig nahrung" ( = I from my food (derive) too little nourishment). "Ja!" Poor Lola!

10 August: To-day is my father's birthday: he is staying with us, and Lola was to give him a "good wish." I suggested all kinds of things, such as good health; long life; and so on, but she would have none of them. At last she rapped "Ich wunsche esen"; and after a short pause she continued, "... und ich auch" ( = I wish him food and for myself too.) "Now give him a second wish: something you yourself find good." So she said: "Re jagen und has...." "And a third?" "Heiraten" ( = to marry). Such were the dog's wishes for my father's natal day! Food, Hunting and Marriage ... the first one being ever the central idea in a dog's thoughts—and yet, how necessary are all these three wishes to the maintenance of species—"urged ever onward by the driving-power of hunger and of love!" after all—there is something very simple and direct about an animal!

30 August: To-day I asked Lola: "Do you wish every one to marry and have children?" "No." "Why not?" "Arbeiten unmoeglich," ( = work impossible). "Go on: if it is impossible, one simply does not work!" "Und ausgen ..." "Go on?" "Auch zu vil esen!" (und ausser dem, zu viel essen = and besides that, too much eating). Here spoke experience.

1 September: Lola was shown some dots on a sheet of white paper, but declined to count them. "Why won't you count?" "Ich ursache one wisen!" ( = I have a cause (reason), without knowing (it)). Then she began to tremble violently, and I asked her why—to which she replied: "Ich kalt" (I (am) cold).

2 September: An old farm labourer and his wife had come to my room to see the dog, and in their honour Lola consented to do some sums. The old man was delighted when, on my suggestion, Lola spelt out his name: she rapped "Wilem," and when I said: "Did you hear that from me?" she answered: "No." "From his wife?" "Yes!" This accounted for the spelling, as the woman is from the Rheinland district, and says "Willem" for Wilhelm.

6 September: "Lola, why did you bite Jenny, yesterday?" (Jenny is a terrier lady-dog.) Answer. "Em ..." "What does that mean?" "Wuest a—a und renen." ( = she was a dirty dog and also hunted.)

7 September: Lola came in from the farm quite wet, and I wanted to know the reason of this, as only the woods were still wet from the recent rains. To my question she made answer: "I in wet." "Were you in the grass or in the woods?" I demanded. "Grass!" "Is the wet grass nice?" "Saw deer in wood—why I came to you!" In spite of such a tempting sight, she was evidently in a virtuous frame of mind: in earlier days she could never resist giving chase.

8 September: "Why are you not eating your food? is it bad?" "Yes!" "What is wrong about it?" "Smell!"

20 September: "Lola," I said, "give me the reason for why you are alive! do you know one?" "Yes, no."

The next day: "Now tell me your answer as to why you are living?" "Yes!" "Well?" "Egal ich lebe gern!"... (i.e. egal is an expression of indifference, such as "it is all the same to me, I like living"). How simple and complete is the dog-point-of-view! "And is that all? didn't you wish to add something more?"... "in Welt" ( = in (the) world). The expression "egal" she will probably have picked up from me.

22 September: To-day I noticed by Lola's behaviour that she wanted to say something, so I put the question to her, and she replied. "Yes." "Well, go ahead!" "I wish to pay you for getting food for me!" "Do you want to give me money?" "Yes!" "But, where are you going to get it from—can you tell me that?" "Yes!" "From where?" "From you!" There was something quite logical about this way of arguing, for Lola had heard much talk about money, farm-hands being often paid by hour—and she had no doubt been an attentive listener and observer, at such transactions. Then—all of a sudden—she rapped. "I without work!" "What do you want to have?" "Haue!" ( = a beating!). I thought I had misunderstood her, so repeated—"haue?" "Yes!" "Say something else!" "Reckoning." But the fact remained that she really longed for a beating—not having had one for a long time, for to my repeated inquiries she kept on with "Yes!" So at length to make sure, I fetched my riding-whip and gave her a light flick, saying—"Is that what you want?" "Yes!" "And do you want more?" "Yes!" she insisted, though all of a tremble, and—unwillingly enough—I had to administer one more.

13 November: Lola had to write a letter to a lady of whom she is very fond: it ran as follows—"dear, I have just been in the yard, I like eating biscuits, I kiss you!" (I think this letter bears the evidence of being Lola's own composition!) Later in the afternoon, when she was out with me, I saw a notice put up saying: "Dogs are to be led on a leash"—and I invited her to read it, but she would only give it a glance. Both on our way back, and when we got home I returned to the subject, saying: "What was on that notice-board?" But she rapped "No!" "What? you mean to say you don't know?" She had, however, already started rapping again—"ich unaro...." "Go on! surely the o should be a t?" (Thinking she meant unartig = naughty). "No!" "Then what should it be?" "No." "Is it a dog's word?" "Yes!" "Well, tell me in a way that I can understand!" "No!" "You can't do so?" "No!" "Say something like it!" "Ja! ich irre, ich es ansehe morgen!" ( = yes! I erred, I (will) look at it to-morrow!)

On one occasion I had explained to her that there were also other languages; English and French, for instance, and I now once more tried to influence her memory by my own thoughts.

"Lola," I said, "do you know what is meant when I say—je veux manger—do you understand that?" "Yes!" "Then tell me!" "Ich wil esen!" "But do you understand this: il faut que je travaille?" "No!" "Think again!" "No!" "Travailler?" "No!" This proving that what I had not taught and explained to her she was incapable of saying—or rather, spelling.

15 November: The following incident was communicated to the "Mitteilungen of the Society for Animal Psychology" (series 1916, No. 2, page 74), by Professor Ziegler:

"Lola had been for a walk with Professor Kindermann, and on her return was discovered to have a feather in her mouth. Fraulein Kindermann asked her: "What animal's feather is that?" she answered: "Hen." "How did you come by the feather?" "Killed hen!" "Why?" "Eat up!" "And have you eaten it up?" "No!" "Why did you run away?" "Fear." "Of what were you frightened, of people?" "No!" "Then of what?" "Ursache!" ( = cause, i.e. cause of fear.) There is something rather charming here in the way in which the dog confesses to her misdeeds, and at the same time owns up to having a bad conscience!"

16 November: Lola must have noticed to-day that there was roast hare on the midday dinner table, for in the afternoon when invited to make some remark she rapped: "Zu wenig ..." (then hesitatingly) "h ..." "Are you afraid?" I inquired. "Yes." "Nonsense, I shall not scold you!" "... as!"—"Zu wenig has—who?" ( = too little hare) "Ich, o we!" ( = I, oh alas!)

18 November: To-day she started to rap nothing but nonsense; but in time it became more distinct, and ended up with "ich zaelen!" ( = I (wish to) count). I asked her if this was a fact—and she promptly said "No!" She then kept on making her usual sign that she wanted to go down into the yard, so I let her out, but soon she ran up again quite briskly, and at once rapped out clearly and distinctly.—"Warum ich und sie so rau geartet?" "Is this what you mean?" "Yes!" "And—who is si meant for?" "Heni!" "What?" I exclaimed, "you are suddenly addressing me as sie?!"[22] "Yes!" "But Lola! that is what we only say to people we don't know well! you have always called me du because you were fond of me—isn't that so? are you saying sie intentionally now?" "Yes!" "Yes? but why?" "Because strange!" "How strange?" "Yes!" "Was: warum ich und sie so rau reartet ( = why are I and you so roughly constituted?) the end of the sentence you began before?" "No." N.B. In this manner did she wish to lodge her complaint, so to speak, against me for not always understanding her when she prefers to try and "rub in" the meaning of her faulty spelling, by gazing at me in her "intent" fashion—indeed, I had always sensed her annoyance at times when she had not been able to gain her ends in this way! In simple matters, such as "wish to eat," or "go out," I could of course, guess her desires, but she was of opinion that I ought to be more "understanding" still—and this is difficult!

[22] Sie = you is the more formal mode of address, as opposed to the familiar "du" = "thou."

1 December: "Lola, what will become of you when you are dead? what will become of your body?" "If..." "No; that is no answer! You are to spell properly!" "Zu esen fuer wurm" ( = food for worm.) "And, Lola ... your soul? do you know what that is?" "Ja, nur get in himmel!" ( = yes (it) only goes to heaven!) "Did you hear people say that?" "Yes!" From this it would seem that any seeking after the dog's own sensations on the subject are useless. By the way, some time before I had read Rolf's remark to her: "All tier hat seel, guck in aug" ( = all animals have souls, look in their eyes). And I then asked her: "Do you know what a soul is?" And she had said: "Yes." "Have I a soul?" "Yes!" "Has a stone one?" "No!" "And a horse?" "Yes!" "A bird?" "Yes!" "And water?" "No!" "Have all dogs?" "Yes!" Lola had rapped this all out very nicely, and I praised her, to which she made response by a little spontaneous rapping—"isan..." "What does that mean?" "ich o wi gluecklich!" ( = I, oh—how happy!) "Because I am pleased?" "Yes! yes!"

4 December: To-day I said to Lola: "Why don't I understand dog-language?"[23] "Oft eil" ( = often hurried.) "Yes, but even when I have tried, and paid attention I cannot understand!" "In hauch—zsuvzaes" ( = the first two words are "in breath," the remainder quite vague!) In a quarter of an hour I showed her a card on which a small child and a dog were looking at each other, and beneath—in Latin characters was written: "Wer bist du?"[24] "Can you read that?" I asked. "Yes!" So I put the card aside and said: "What is the second word?" "Bist." "But do you understand the sentence?" "Yes." "Which is saying it—the dog or the child? Look at both of them, they are young, and have met for the first time in their lives." "Both!"

[23] Lola often uses quite incomprehensible words and once declared that they belonged to "a particular dog-language"—my further inquiries have been quite fruitless, and these words were probably her own inventions!

[24] "Who are you?"

11 December: "Lola! why do you and Frechi always bite one another when you are allowed to go loose?" "Ambitious!" "Ambitious to see who is the stronger?" "Yes!" "And which of you two is the strongest?" "Frechi!" She had applied the word with a nice sense of fitness: when two dogs meet for the first time this is exactly the feeling that arises—either one of them is by far the strongest—a fact that both of them will be aware of, and silently acknowledge—or, their strength may be pretty evenly matched—in which case a fight will ensue, possibly even several fights, before the issue is finally decided. Is this not often spiritually the case between man and man?

13 December: Lola had been chasing after the game and had been punished by having to go without her food. She was however, in high spirits and rapped "esen!" following this hint in half an hour with "zu esen!" ( = (give me) to eat!) I explained to her that this could not be done: that a punishment was imperative, if she would not break herself of her evil habits. Then Lola rapped out suddenly. "Lere mich artig sein!" ( = teach me to be good!")

22 December: I have been showing her a picture in a book of Fairy Tales. My brother was present at the time, and it was the picture of the house of a robber, the house being drawn so as to represent a face: it had indeed been very cleverly executed.

"Lola," said I, "whatever is there about that house—do you notice anything?" (And thought she would rap "face.") She rapped. "Is a person!" I avoided looking at it again and merely asked, "Tell me, does it look friendly, or angry, or nice?" "Spetisch." "Spoettische?" ( = mocking.) "Yes." And we both thought this reply admirable, for the "house" does look at one most "mockingly" out of the corners of its eyes.

31 December: "Lola, have you got worms?" "Yes!" "How did you get them?" "Ja, zige!" "An animal?" "Yes." "Is there a goat ( = ziege) near here?" "Yes!" I had seen none about, but asked her again: "Where is the goat?" "Droif." "Do you know the name?" "Mittel!" ( = her expression for anything she is uncertain about.) "Why did you say droif?" "I not any sort of word will give!" On making further inquiries I found that there was a goat in the immediate neighbourhood, and that the name of the family who owned it was Freund. I had never mentioned this name to Lola, so that she could only have heard it in the course of conversation among the people about, and then not very distinctly. In the evening, while I was absent, Lola stole some Marzipan. I expostulated with her in a serious, though friendly manner, and this evidently made her feel exceedingly uncomfortable, for she suddenly rapped—"Sag irgend boese!" ( = say something angry!)

1 January, 1917: "What is to-day?" "1.1. 1917!" "On this day we give good wishes to every one, so I will wish you much to eat, good health, and much going out: now wish me something!" "Am geln ..." (most indistinctly) I told her to repeat it, and she began again—"Am gu ... elen zu aufhoeren!" (i.e. am quaelen zu aufhoeren = to cease teasing.) "You can't put a w after a g," I told her, but she persisted, and I waited in patience. There is no "q" in her alphabet, so she had found a way out very neatly! "Do I tease Lola?", I asked. "mich!" ( = me!) This is indeed sad! and I am not conscious of my failing, indeed, I think that Lola has a very good time on the whole!

7 January, 1917: "Now tell me something you would like to have explained, but mind you rap loudly and distinctly." "Ich o si so wenig kene." "Who is si?" "Dich!" ( = thou!) (The reply had been "I know (or understand) you so little.") "Tell me what it is you don't understand about me? tell me something every day: what is it now?" "Work when I say no!" I tried to explain to her that my anxiety to get her work so lay in my desire for more knowledge about dogs—so that I might be able to tell everybody all about them, and thus make them kinder to animals. I took much time and trouble over my explanation, and at length Lola gave a responsive "Yes."

10 January: To-day we returned to the foregoing conversation: "Tell me what you don't understand about me?" "The food has also been worse lately!" she remarked. On this vexed subject I also attempted elucidation. I sought to explain the conditions of war, and that the amount of food available became less in consequence: that we people were no better off in this respect, and so on! And at length she again said "Yes!" Then I thought I would change the subject and asked her: "Why did Geri sigh so outside the door last night, and why does he look so unhappy to-day?" "er auch hat esen wolen!" ( = he also wanted to eat!)

In the evening I said: "Lola, what is it you don't understand about me?" "Cause is often roughness!" She remarked—and here I really felt that there was little that I must needs explain—for I am not conscious of meriting her reproach on this score.

11 January: "Tell me something, Lola!" I pleaded. "Mistake to go out so little," she observed. Here she was emphatically in the right! She had not been out much lately, for it had been very wet—and she needs plenty of exercise. In the evening I invited her to "say something more." "o we gwelen!" "What worries you?" "ere nehemen!" ( = taking honour!) "Taking honour about what?" "eid!" (So the old story has not yet faded from her memory).

12 January: "Well, now you've told me ever so much that you can't understand about me! But is there anything more?" "Zeig audawer (Ausdauer) in libe zu mir!" "Ausdawer? Isn't there a letter wrong?" "Yes, 4"; "What should it be?" "Au!" So the sentence ran, "Zeig Ausdauer in Liebe zu mir!" ( = show constancy in your love for me!) Yes, indeed I will, you dear beast!



ULSE'S FIRST INSTRUCTION

As I have stated, when Lola came to me she could already say "yes" and "no"; she had even some slight acquaintance with the numbers and counting. The bridge leading from man to animal had been started, and the first difficulties embarked on. The further I pursued these studies with Lola, the keener became my curiosity to know whether I should be equal to the task of tackling this work where an animal in its primeval state was concerned, thus driving in the first props of this bridge myself! I tried my 'prentice hand in this work on Geri, the beautiful German sheep-dog, who had come into my possession in 1914. This dog—owing to excess of breeding, and also, perhaps, to the impressions imbibed in his youth was unusually shy and melancholy—he lacked all natural energy to "cut a figure" in any way; he had learnt to say "yes" and "no," and I feel sure that he understood me very well, but his nervousness and his constant fear held him back from rapping out anything beyond his yes and no answers. (At a later date I was obliged to give him away, owing to the scarcity of food.) Lola's progeny, therefore, seemed to offer more promising material for fresh ventures, but all—excepting the little lady-dog—Ulse—had been dispersed, going to their several new owners, before the winter days immediately after Christmas brought me sufficient leisure for further study, and as I had to give part of this time to Lola, as well as to the writing of this book, I had but a small margin left to expend on the little newcomer. Nor can I say, to tell the truth, that my interest in her was very great; she had already been promised to someone, and the fact of her still being with me was due to the difficulties of travel in these abnormal times. But, finally, sheer pity for the small creature—sitting alone in the stable—led me to bring her in for a few hours at a time so as to play about with me and Lola. One day it so happened that I had sent Lola off, and, being alone with Ulse, (mostly accustomed to intercourse with the maids) I attempted to teach her to understand: "Sit down!" To do this I pressed the little creature down on her haunches, saying, "Sit down!" And after I had repeated this three times she understood quite well what I meant, sitting down obediently at my slightest touch, and looking at me inquiringly out of her little bright eyes. I repeated this again the next day, and also touched her paw, saying: "paw!" Then I took the small paw in my hand and said: "Give a paw!" and in a few days this, too, had been learnt. I next taught her which was her right paw—and she very soon knew the difference. Indeed, Ulse seemed to think it all great fun, and was hugely delighted at the little rewards she earned. My interest, too, had now been aroused, and I repeated the numerals to her from 1 up to 5, and got her to understand "look here!" and "attention!" Though she was on the whole more fidgety than Lola had been, yet would she sometimes sit quite still, intent on watching my hand, but the least movement in the room would start her little head off twisting to and fro to every side. One day I took her paw, saying: "Now you must learn to rap! And placing the little pad on the palm of my hand, I first counted two with it, and then continued up to 5; then I held my hand out to her and said: "Ulse, rap 2!" and she actually did! I was delighted. I should add that before Ulse had learnt to "give a paw," she had already, of herself, shown inclinations to "rap," for she would hold up her paw—gesticulating with it in the air! These vague "pawings," moreover, were distinctly the movements of rapping, although she, of course, did not know their meaning at the time. And so the ground was laid for further work, during the short time I had to spare for her—as well as the limited period she was yet to remain with me.

There can be no doubt but that heredity plays a great role in these cases; her quick responsiveness bore witness to this, while, in addition, Lola evidently regarded her as the "flower of her flock," for she had always singled Ulse out for special attentions, generally retiring with her alone to a distant part of the barn. The question is whether Lola may not have given her some instruction, for, to some remark of mine, she had once replied: "Teaching Ulse!" Yet, for my part, I feel doubtful whether animals do transmit to others of their kind the things taught them by human beings. However, this may be, Ulse seemed predestined, so to speak, to learn to count and spell, mastering the numbers up to five in a fabulously short time. Moreover, she rapped better than Lola, or, rather, quite as well as Lola had done when in her very best days, raising her small paw high, and then bringing it down on my hand with a decided, though rather slow, beat. Ulse was also soon able to signify "yes" by two raps, and "no" by three, but I had to keep my questions within a very narrow limit, for her intercourse was of too short a duration to enable her to acquire a lengthy or varied vocabulary. Still, we practised 2 x 1, 2 x 2, 3 x 2, and her answers were always excellent, as long as nothing else was going on to excite or distract her.

The amusing thing was that she loved doing it so that the little paw would be up in mid-air as soon as ever she saw me, as much as to show that she was quite ready for work. This was doubtless due to the very quiet existence she had led before coming indoors, and also perhaps to the little favours and tit-bits she had learnt to associate with her new accomplishments. Indeed, until these had blossomed out, her innate cleverness and brightness had gone almost unnoticed.

When I had assured myself that she fully comprehended the rapping, I endeavoured to teach her to rap on a board, instead of on my hand, a thing I had never been able to get Lola to agree to. Indeed, I had had to relinquish any hope of it, in the case of the older dog; whether it was that the scratching of her toe-nails on the board irritated her or what, I do not know, but it practically stopped her working. My only reason for trying to introduce this method at all had been to put an end to the suggestions sometimes put forward by sceptical persons that I might be "helping her with my hand!" Anyway, the ease with which Ulse took to rapping on the board, and the excellent work she did by that method should have proved a sufficient reply to all doubters, and I had been full of hope that her gifts would, in time, have been further developed by her new mistress, yet it was to be otherwise. Ulse was to have gone to her new home in Meran (in the Tyrol), but the regulations as to travel obtaining during war-time prohibited this, so I placed her under the temporary charge of a young lady, and while there she unfortunately died of mange.



LAST WORDS

Everything that I have so far experienced or even heard of concerning dogs, I have attempted to set down here, and to do so has taken some fourteen months of close work. I have further added certain observations dating from an earlier period. It is my full intention to continue this work of experimentation, and should be glad if I might hope that what I have communicated in these pages may raise a desire on the part of some of my readers to embark on similar work in reference to other animals; for, in so difficult a field of discovery it can only be after much independent spadework has been done that the "complete form" we are groping after will be laid bare. Up to the present it may be thought that little of really practical value has been proved, and to some this may suggest that the work is therefore superfluous. But, do we study astronomy for mere practical reasons? Does the seeker in this field of science imagine that he is going to derive practical results for us, in the immediate future, from his study of the heavens? It is for purely ideal reasons—and in order to give seeking humanity that which is indeed theirs, that we humans send forth our thoughts, exploring every region of the world—be this "of use" or not! And in thus probing the depths of our own subject do we not come up against those weightier questions which are of Cosmic importance? Does not Nature here fix man's eye with her own gaze—granting him new riches? For rich, indeed, is this gift that proves to him that not he alone is dowered with a soul[25]—nor dwelling in a world destitute of thought, nay—that his companion-beings along life's highway are well able to respond to and comprehend all his labour, his love, and his care for them. And above all, should it teach him to more clearly apprehend them—doing so in the spirit of a know-er and with a kindly sympathy begotten of that knowledge. For To Know—to Understand—means to give to each its rights! And, in this matter, have we to concede so much to our higher animals? The simplest form of thought contents them; the childlike adapting itself to animal uses; and, from such "small beginnings" has not our own primeval soul—the best that is within us—risen to higher glory, to become a moulder and organizer of thought—even of creative ideas? Therefore, from all that wealth with which we are dowered we may well allow this tiny morsel to our animal friends—they will assuredly infringe no further upon our rights, for, after all, they are dumb, and cannot even utter the small store of thoughts they may learn to express; they can only look at us—but, oh! how well they can do that—it needs no more than our eyes to tell us! And—if we review the entire animal kingdom, are not these higher animals closely akin to us, both in bodily structure as also in all that appertains to their functional activities? So near, indeed, do they approach us in the degree of evolution that for that very reason it would seem natural to attribute to them some rudiments of thought—some latent abilities; but the greatest importance of all would seem to lie in the Cosmic aspect of this question! If it does "fit in" ought we, then, to dismiss it? Is it not the same thing with all subjects that open up a new point of view? Yet may those for whom such new investigations present no "disturbing elements"—those for whom, on the contrary, it chimes with their own desire—extend their hand and gratefully accept this gift from Nature—repaying her with reverence and with love. May this new science serve to enrich our ever increasing knowledge! The work will indeed mean a long struggle against the conservative elements, and all those accepted rules of procedure; every weapon will be turned against us, but, be this as it may, time will in its due course show the truth to be on our side, for ONLY WHAT IS TRUE SURVIVES.

[25] See the Song of Solomon.



CONCLUSION

By Professor H. F. Ziegler

The most important contribution that had been made to the study of Animal Psychology consists in the new "Alphabet of Raps," which enables dumb creatures to give reasonable expression to their thoughts, and provides us at the same time with the means of gaining some insight into their thinking and feeling. This method owes nothing to scientific investigators, yet may these gladly acknowledge the great progress thus indicated, rather than reject it with impatience and distrust. To proudly decline anything to do with it would indeed be out of place: rather is it careful study and independent confirmation—a personal application of this new method—that is here most needed. The inventor of this "Rapping and Spelling Method" was the late Wilhelm von Osten, in Berlin, reference to whom has been made in the opening chapter of this book. But the specialists refused to recognize his labours—they destroyed his position by their erroneous findings and their disapprobation—the campaign carried on against von Osten being by no means free from a spirit of unfairness.[26]

[26] I would here refer the reader to the references I made to the work issued by Pfungst; they may be found in "The Animal Soul" (Reports of new observations made with respect to horses and dogs), 2nd ed. (W. Jung) 1916, p. 38.

It was Karl Krall who took up and continued the work, improving on the original method and finally making known the most astounding results which he himself had succeeded in obtaining with his horses. These accounts may be read in detail in Krall's great book, a work the publication of which has been of immeasurable importance in the history of animal psychology.[27] Any reader of unbiased opinion will be bound to acknowledge the value of this new method, and the remarkable results achieved in the case of Krall's horses have been equally successfully applied when working with dogs. Frau Dr. Moekel of Mannheim evolved an independent rapping method of her own, which admitted of the possibilities for counting. This lady, however, soon became aware that a similar method had already been invented and applied by Herr von Osten, and she then enlarged on her own efforts so as to include the spelling method above mentioned. The feats of her dog Rolf were so remarkable as to arouse as much surprise in his mistress as in anyone else present. Frau Dr. Moekel was exceedingly careful to note down everything that could serve as evidence, and in spite of her long and serious illness was yet able, by dint of great exertion, to complete her MS. She died in 1915, and her book, which could not be published during the war, has only recently become available to the public. It is gratifying to be able to welcome the appearance of another little book on the same subject, the one now before us, written by Fraeulein Henny Kindermann; this volume having also suffered postponement, owing to the war. This lady taught her dog on independent methods of her own, devoting much loving and conscientious care to the work and, in a general way, the results have been much the same as those obtained from Rolf, although, in the matter of detail, there is much that is new; indeed, many of the observations set down by this investigator raise questions of fascinating interest. Here, again, the author has been able to improve on the method as previously applied by others; teaching the dog to rap tens and units with different paws, as had been done by Krall's horses, and also introducing a better method of spelling by teaching the proper value of the consonants.[28] Fraeulein Kindermann further applied her tests systematically in order to solve certain problems, proving the animal's ability to the full extent in one particular subject at a time. It is indeed the experience thus gained which gives to this book its special value, even though all the problems submitted may not have been fully solved. I would here draw attention to the fact that the author's dog invariably replies in "High German," whereas Rolf of Mannheim employs the dialect of the Pfalz—and the Stuttgart dog, Sepp, expresses his views in Suabian; indeed, each dog naturally learns the "form of speech" he hears in his own locality. The results that have come under notice seem at times so extraordinary that doubts may arise as to the authenticity of what has here been set down; yet should we be careful not to reject new evidence because it happens to exceed all we have hitherto known or experienced. For this is a case of exploring new ground, ingress to which has now become possible owing to an entirely new method, and none should take upon themselves to decide in advance what may, or may not be, found possible within this new domain. Careful examination of all evidence put forward is desirable, yet can this be undertaken only by such persons as are themselves in the possession of an intelligent dog, one to which they can apply the test of similar instruction. It should be needless to say that the experimenter must abstain from anything in the nature of a sign given to the animal. It is a far easier matter to train an animal in that way than to bring out the latent possibilities attaching to its understanding by training it so as to state its own thoughts. The proof of the genuineness of such "utterances" on the part of the dog lies in the fact that it so often gives an entirely different reply to that which is expected of it—it may even say something that is quite unknown to the person carrying out the experiment. Many such examples will be found in this book, as well as in that of Frau Dr. Moekel, while many more could be furnished by the owners of other "Spelling Dogs." Indeed, the more reckoning and spelling dogs there are the sooner will the value of this new method become generally recognized and the easier will it be to rid the truth of any errors that may still obscure it. Here in Stuttgart my Lectures delivered on the subject have so far led to the training of four dogs in counting as well as spelling, this having been done with best results. In addition to these, I myself have a dog, "Ava," by name a daughter of Lola, who is already proficient in both accomplishments. There is nothing mysterious about this new animal psychology that has been brought into evidence by the method here explained, it is no secret, but at the service of all who care to explore what is entirely free ground—not reserved for the learned alone, but at the disposal of any animal-lover, if he will but co-operate in a spirit of patience and devotion, and is endowed with the particular "gift" for teaching an animal. The truth under discussion here is not likely to be find elucidation in the study of the learned man—rather will it be the result of the collective, convergent and corresponding evidence brought together by the labours of many a patient investigator.

STUTTGART

September, 1919

[27] Karl Krall, "Denkende Tiere, Beitraege zur Tierseelenkunde, auf Grund eigener Versuche," Leipzig, Engelmann, 1912.

[28] Rolf could only rap with one paw owing to the other fore-paw having been injured; he generally leaves out the vowels, these being already contained within the consonants. This habit gives rise to a somewhat curious form of writing.

NOTE

There are in all now twelve dogs known to communicate by means of "raps." The experiences I have had with my own dog have been reported by me in the article entitled "Respecting a Dog's Memory," and appeared in the "Zoologischen Anzeiger," 1919, No. 11-13. The name of my dog "Awa" is quite intentionally put together, as Lola has herself "invented" all the names given to her progeny.



"THINKING" ANIMALS

A CRITICAL DISCUSSION OF DEVELOPMENTS FROM 1914 TO 1919

BY

DR. WILLIAM MACKENZIE

OF GENOA

[Translated from the Italian with the omission of

I. An Introductory Section, and II. A Section giving the Story of "Lola."]

III. THE HYPOTHESIS OF INTELLIGENCE IN ANIMALS

Assuming, as I have done, and as I think I must do, that we have not here to do with a trick or fraud, we seem to be dreaming, or to be reading the account of a dream. Those poor horses of Elberfeld, so greatly extolled and so much discussed in their day, are not in the same field with Lola. And yet I am convinced that it is not a dream. It is another kind of psychological reality, but it is a reality probably too complex to be reduced to a single formula. Let us then try to face the facts.

As to the "intelligent" character of the manifestations, there is no possible doubt, even though we put on one side for the present the arithmetical phenomena, which perhaps must be treated from a particular standpoint, as I shall explain. The question before us is therefore a dilemma. Is there intelligence in the dog, or is the intelligence in others?

If, by intelligence in this case we mean the possibility of the animal under observation giving replies to questions with, in the human sense, actual understanding of the import of such replies, as well as the possibility of the animal, a dog two years old, being able after a maximum of fifteen hours' lessons to read, write and count, and know what it is learning; if that is what is meant by intelligence in this case, I must say that I do not believe in it, and that I feel compelled for scientific reasons to examine every other hypothesis before having recourse to this one.

And again, "Intelligence in others"? This may be so, but it is not necessary to suppose that the intelligence is in others alone. I mean that a few of the manifestations may within narrow limits probably be rightly attributed to the intelligence of the animal, (but, I repeat, the arithmetical facts must be considered by themselves).

If all the manifestations were to be attributed to the intelligence of others and none to the animal, we should have to accept the supposition of an absolutely mechanical automatism in the animal itself of the type suggested by Neumann (8)[29] as the result of his experiments with Rolf, when, for instance, the dog mechanically kept on tapping an unlimited number of times on the cardboard, which Neumann held out to it without, as far as possible, moving it.

[29] NOTE.—The numbers in the text refer to the Bibliography at the end.

This negative result of Neumann's is capable of various possible explanations, and in no way gives any clear indication (just because it is negative) as to how a positive result is at all possible; that is, we cannot conclude from it any better than before, whether the apparently "mechanical" behaviour of the animal was intentional, and therefore whether the animal itself could or could not have behaved otherwise; whether, given the impossibility of the animal behaving differently, we should say that this impossibility was absolute or only happened to occur on this occasion; whether perchance the action of some psychical factor unknown to Neumann between the animal and himself may not have been omitted; and whether such factor was not in operation when the animal was working with its late mistress, etc., etc. In this connexion I feel it incumbent upon me to recall that I myself saw Rolf on two or three occasions behave in this same apparently mechanical way with his mistress (Mrs. Moekel) (II), whose annoyance thereat seemed so real that I felt certain that it was not feigned. From Neumann's point of view this would be incomprehensible—since he makes use of the argument from the supposed absolute automatism under the impression that it had taken place in Rolf with him, Neumann, alone, but not with the Moekels. Here, then, it is clear that the intelligence is, or at least that it is also, "in others."

But whatever value we may attach to Neumann's experiment, it appears to me sufficiently clear that the supposition of an absolutely mechanically passive process in the animal will not hold as a sufficient explanation of the whole of the facts related by Miss Kindermann, nor will it hold with regard to what science certainly seems to me to be compelled to admit in the case of the Elberfeld horses, which (as is known) "worked" magnificently without contact with anyone, tapping their replies on a board, completely isolated on the ground, and even when all alone in their stable with the one door tightly closed and all the spectators outside. The spectators heard and observed the rapped answers of the horses (for example, to written questions) through a little glass window. Neither will it hold with regard to the many experiments made, some also by myself, by means of requests, pictures, questions, presented to the horses in such a way as to be unknown to everyone, including the experimenter. Besides, the animals at times gave spontaneous communications. This Assagioli and I, and many others, have observed even without the presence of Krall and of members of the Moekel family. Miss Kindermann also gives some of Lola's replies tapped on the arm of a friend of the authoress, although the latter held out as usual her own hand to the dog.

Therefore, there must be some "intelligence" in the animal, as everything cannot come from outside it in these experiments. Probably this intelligence is not human in quality, but nevertheless not quite rudimentary, and is such as we may imagine without too much effort to exist in domestic animals which by many signs often give us proof that they understand at least in part what is taking place around and within us. That such an intelligence could very probably be educated, always within prehuman limits or in a lesser degree than in human infancy, does not on the whole seem to me so contradictory to our actual psychological knowledge: since we may very well suppose that the animal under examination may make use of its proper faculties, as far as lies in its power, to profit by the situation for the purpose of accomplishing that which is required of it, under the stimulus of allurements or threats. (It may even be rather assumed that the exercise of its proper faculties, which I regard as "intelligent," may procure for the animal a certain degree of pleasure.) All this is apart from the question of the arithmetical phenomena which, as I have already said, deserve separate consideration.

Upon the facts as now established the knowledge of numbers seems to be the basis of any educability in animals. And this is perhaps the first and most important discovery in the "new zoopsychology."

In their search for others things, Von Osten, Krall, and the Moekels have brought out clearly among various other facts, without exactly accounting for it, the fundamental fact of the existence in the animal of a psychic substratum predisposed in some manner to arithmetic. I say "in some manner," and by that I do not wish to prejudge any particular view of the argument; and above all I do not make of this predisposition or mathematical permeability, a criterion of intelligence. I do not forget either the mentally deficient or the prodigies among child calculators, etc. But likewise I cannot forget another thing: that all organisms are already throughout permeated with mathematics, and that the more we descend the scale, from man down to the most "simple" biological fact, the more nearly we approach to physics, which is nothing but mathematics.

I have not the space here to digress on the intermediate gradations. Besides, I have already done so, in part at least, elsewhere. But I wish to recall the curious coincidence that the mathematical achievements of the Elberfeld horses were much more brilliant and much more prodigious than those of the dogs which have up to now been experimented on. And horses in the phylo-genetic line are more ancient than dogs: they are lower in the zoologic scale. Much lower still, i.e. among the Arthropoda, occur many other mathematical wonders. I only mention in a cursory way the logarithmic spiral of the spider's web, the precise curves realized without instruments of any kind by the Coleoptera and Hymenoptera in cutting leaves, the stereometry of the aphides. Then, as it were, at the bottom of the scale (if one may still speak of a descent and a bottom) the marvellous plancton filters of the Appendiculata; the geometrical spots of the Amoebae; the cases of perfect forms of so many other Protozoa; and, finally, think of the constructive technic of the static organs, or of those of movement either in man or animals or plants; think of the complex mathematics of the mitosi, or of any cell proceeding to its own indirect division.

It seems to me clear that the mathematical faculty—assuming always, let it be understood, that it may give rise to more or less conscious phenomena in the biological subject—may be amongst the most natural of imaginable causes, and that even the smallest amount of consciousness may help this existing capacity in the animal to express itself. That we are concerned with an expression by raps or not, does not seem to me as important as a proper estimation of the importance of the central fact constituted by this mathematical capacity.

From this central fact, proved over and over again without any possible doubt to be true of the "thinking" animals, there have been developed two distinct groups of consequences: (1) the prodigious mathematical performances occurring as by magic among the Elberfeld horses at a certain point of their "education": (2) the apparent manifestations of thought through the typtology or rapping out of words, culminating in the "philosophic" achievements of Rolf and Lola.

For the reasons just mentioned the first group of consequences seems to me to admit largely of biological (i.e. biopsychical) explanation; however, anything which eventually does not fit into the biological explanation may be made to enter without any effort into the second method of explanation which, in view of the facts, it seems to me that we must adopt for the second of the two groups of consequences above referred to.

That mathematics can be "lived" rather than "known"—or, if any one prefers the term, "realized"—by an organism which is without any psychical accompaniment whatever of the human type, is a fact which I find credible. But when Rolf speaks to me of the origin of the soul, or makes up poetry; when Lola complains to me of honour lost, etc., the thing is not credible to me in any way except by paying attention to nothing except the feeling, which is so difficult to avoid, that what is here speaking to me, versifying and complaining, is a psychical "quid," absolutely human and only human; a "quid" which therefore is (after all) not the animal's, although manifested in some way through it. The difficulty naturally consists in deciding precisely how this happens. But it does not seem to me altogether impossible to arrive at a proper hypothesis.

I have already said that we must discard, because of its inability to explain a great part of the facts, the most easy and simple hypothesis—that of some mechanical signal (e.g. by means of a supposed pressure of the hand under the cardboard, or by the hand itself which is held out to the animal, in the case of the dogs which have so far been experimented with). Here we also have to remember the proposition laid down by Miss Kindermann herself that "She did not wish to let herself be carried away by sentiment," and that she would seek all possible proofs which were good logically. Having excluded the hypothesis of deceit, it is a further proof of the sheer impotency of the theory of signals, when regard is had to the available amount of the material observed and recorded in the authoress, if we ask how is it possible to imagine that she (knowing very well, as she says, the suspicion resting on the method) in a year or more of work with Lola should not herself have perceived that she herself had been producing by mechanical means the rapped answers of her pupil?

In my opinion the answer is that the authoress was not only not aware of, but could not in the least have been aware of, the action that may have passed from herself to the dog so as to bring about the rapping of the answers; and that on the other hand it is not a question at all of thinking of a simple mechanical operation of the kind mentioned above, because in the presumed action of the authoress on the dog there is no need to have recourse to such a crude hypothesis (as surely there was no similar action of Krall's on his horses, especially when they were separated from him). I maintain, in fact, that in principle, even without any contact by hand, we may still presume that all the "wonders" obtained by Miss Kindermann are obtainable, taking, of course, into account the peculiar endowments of the animal we are dealing with. For if there be any automatism (and there is surely a good dose of it), it is certainly not a question of a mechanical automatism (of the type of Neumann's), but quite certainly of a true and proper psychic automatism; a very different thing, and without doubt much more complex.

In all probability the first condition for the occurrence of genuine phenomena similar to those attributed to "thinking" animals must be a very particular psychic relationship between the animal and his master. And such a relation, although with reluctance, I am compelled to call of the mediumistic type.

My reluctance is due in part to the very unhappy etymology of the term, derived from the famous word "medium," so unscientific both in its origin and in the meaning which some even now wish to associate with it. But even after having freed it from any "spiritistic" meaning, the term still leaves me reluctant; for I cannot hide from myself the weakness of a hypothesis which, in order to explain (only in part) one enigmatical fact (in this case, that of "thinking animals"), must have recourse to another unsolved enigma (in this case that of the "mediumistic phenomena").

However, it will already be something if the two problems are eventually merged together and so become a single problem; but it is not my object to explain any psychical facts themselves, whatever they may be, under which the phenomena of Lola and others of a similar nature may be eventually classified. It will be sufficient for me at present to group the performances of the animals, if possible, with something better known. And "mediumistic" facts, extrinsically at least, are certainly better known. I refer therefore to them as I find them described in the psychology called supernormal; because, from force of circumstances I am compelled to recognize that it is within this psychology that I must now continue the discussion.

IV. MEDIUMISTIC "RAPPORT" AND TELEPATHY

The hypothesis of a psychic automatism of a mediumistic type, as a concomitant phenomenon, at least, in experiments of the "new zoopsychology," offers us a point of support for a possible interpretation of the strange uncertainty and irregularity of the successes and failures of different observers and different animals.

With Krall two of his horses gave magnificent results; two others negative results. In the same way, with the same dogs some experimenters obtain wonders, others obtain nothing.... We may therefore assume that in order to obtain favourable results there must be a proper accord or reciprocal psychic concordance between the animal and the person making the experiment, precisely as happens with mediumistic phenomena.

Moreover, this hypothesis in the same way helps us to an interpretation of the fact that the same animal, with the same investigator, gives good results in some matters, poor or no result in others. Taking, however, due account of the central mathematical phenomena, on which, as it seems to me, the whole edifice is superposed, there remains a great variety of marked psychical idiosyncrasies in the various cases. One of the animals is decidedly a calculator; another likes to read or to explain figures; another detests reading but willingly taps out "spontaneous communications."

Without possessing much intrinsic probative value of its own, it is certain that all this fits in very badly with the supposition of a purely mechanical automatism operated by the person making the experiments. And on the other hand it bears a close analogy to the mediumistic "specialities"; that is, to the well-known fact that one "medium," for instance, is good for "physical effects" (i.e. gives rise around it to dynamic phenomena), but is not good for "psychography"; or produces "incarnations" but not "apports," etc. In the same way, typtology or rapping, more or less systematic, seems a fundamental gift, common to all the various kinds of "mediums." And the fact is perhaps of a certain value that precisely the same thing is true of "thinking" animals; although we must always remember that an analogous relation may only be apparent or extrinsic. Besides, the tone also of the "communications" in the two fields seems to me very much akin. I allude to the curious, angular, enigmatic, spasmodic, often playful and bantering communications, with frequent "unexpected replies" and philosophic platitudes. I find all these in Lola, and I remember similar stories of Rolf and of the horses, giving me an impression very like that which I get from the accounts of mediumistic seances "with intellectual effects."

Premising all this, we may suppose that a peculiar psychic concordance, which failing a better term might be called mediumistic, exists between Lola and her mistress. The mistress then in some way will have "communicated" through the dog the substance of her psychic self (perhaps with eventual autonomous additions from the canine or other psychic entity); all this happening, we must suppose, in a subliminal way, with partial psychical disassociation on the part of the authoress, if not also probably on the part of Lola, about which I am quite certain (and in this I agree with Neumann) that it absolutely does not understand anything or know anything of almost all the manifestations of thought which it exhibits.

There remain the questions (if the possibility of such duplicate mediumistic phenomena is admitted a priori to be possible) as to the point at which the normal relationship between a human person and an animal passes over into this supernormal one; and, finally, as to what particular known facts in the case of Lola, besides the rather too general analogies already mentioned, speak in favour of this hypothesis.

Into the mediumistic endowment of the investigator it seems to me useless to inquire since a priori many persons, so it seems, are more or less strikingly endowed, and the conditions which determine results are not sufficiently known. At the most there exist some indications—e.g. in Morselli's masterly work (2)—of the existence of some concordances between the phenomenology of mediumism and hysterical, hysteroid, or at least "sensitive" temperaments. And I believe that—with the help of their own publications, properly analysed—it would not be too difficult to attribute one or the other of such physio-psychic varieties to those persons who have up to the present obtained the best results with "thinking animals."

More interesting appears to me the investigation of the question whether animals themselves have already given any clear proof of being able to be "sensitive" in the mediumistic sense. And I must say that such a proof seems to have almost been reached.

I may refer on this subject to the exhaustive monograph published in 1905 by Bozzano (1) and written with the special competency and clearness that distinguish the well-known Genoese psychist.

Bozzano at that time was necessarily ignorant of the "thinking" animals, for it was only afterwards that they came to notice. But there were other authors who introduced the possibility (or the necessity) of a supernormal relationship in order to explain the Elberfeld facts, as soon as they were known. Perhaps the first in chronological order was De Vesme, who published in 1912 an interesting article in that sense (3), showing the many analogies between the phenomena of Elberfeld and mediumistic phenomena generally, e.g. the typtological particularities; the wrong orthography ("Firaz" tapped by the horse to express its own name "Zariff," "Dref" instead of "Ferd," etc.); solutions of difficult problems and invincible resistance to simple inquiries; immediate promptitude of correct replies to complicated mathematical problems, etc.

A similar work was Maeterlinck's, written in 1909 for a German review, and then transformed into a long and interesting chapter of the well-known volume, "L'hote Inconnu" (10).

Then in 1914 was published a book by E. G. Sanford (5) containing some useful comparisons between "thinking" animals and mediumistic psychology.

In Italy there were indications in the same sense, in the work of Stefani (1913), Professor Siciliani (1914), and others. But the subject was but little followed up.

Even psychologists by profession seemed for a time to be willing to accept the hypothesis of some "telepathic" transmission of thought from the investigators to the Elberfeld horses.

Already Claparede (1912) had been forced to refer to this, although he refused, so to speak, to discuss the matter; then G. C. Ferrari, and F. Pulle, in an interesting account (4) relate how the horse taken by them for instruction sometimes guessed the numbers that they were proposing to them, and rapped out the answers before being asked to do so.

Whatever may be the fate of the telepathic hypothesis, it may not be amiss to remind the reader that it undoubtedly is very closely connected with the mediumistic. The distinction between them is not always easy; besides, both may exist together side by side.

"Telepathy," so called, (a term not less unfortunate than that of "medium" and its derivatives), or, better, the transmission of thought, is (shortly put) the hypothesis that at a certain moment an agent transmits, and a receiver perceives, some definite mental image or state of mind. The transmission may be more or less willed (i.e. conscious) on the part of the agent; on the part of the receiver, however, the fact of the transmission always remains unconscious, but the psychical elements perceived bring about a reaction in consciousness and the receiver knows what he is doing, or at any rate may do so, at the moment of the occurrence. Shortly stated, it may be regarded as a kind of suggestion, "a distance," with sometimes immediate and sometimes delayed effect; a kind of posthypnotic performances of a suggestion without the intervention of hypnotism (or, perhaps, with a partial subhypnotic state?), the receiver of the suggestion not receiving it in the form of acoustic vibrations or in any way by means of one of the ordinary senses.

Mediumistic phenomena on the other hand require for their explanation the possibility of a much more direct, more profound and more immediate relationship between the several minds taking part in them. One of these minds—more or less disassociated—might become the instrument of another—even of several others—although still itself in a state of more or less complete disassociation, and always remaining altogether unconscious of its relationship to the other. One of the minds might therefore be an agent, another a recipient, or even several of them simultaneously might join together to produce the phenomena, the subliminal nature of the relationship remaining fixed. The actors would in this way, for ever, all of them without exception, be absolutely unaware that they were the actors. It might also be the case that the recipient through whom the phenomena are produced (i.e. the "medium," or in our case the animal experimented on) would not be conscious at all of the resulting action. With human "mediums" we should find in such cases a more or less advanced state of trance or ecstasy. And with regard to animals, I remember the opinions of Ochorowicz and others—which were preceded, however, long ago by a similar opinion of Cuvier—according to which the consciousness of animals in an awakened state would correspond fairly closely to the consciousness of man in a hypnotic state.

If what has been said above is at all correct, it would seem as if the walls separating various minds one from another all of a sudden are opened wide, and by a partial interpenetration of one mind by the other the several minds join together to produce by mutual determination automatic action. And it is in these special psychical states that "supernormal" phenomena, viz., psychography, clairvoyance, clairaudience, etc., occur.

Now, although all this is to move in a very uncertain ambit, harassed by a multitude of diverse and vain dilettantisms and mysticisms, and only too frequently by fraud, it is not any longer possible nowadays to deny that facts, objectively known, compel the positive scientist to have recourse to some such suppositions. Also without making the "subliminal," with Myers, a kind of "deus ex machina" in the world, it is certain that mediumistic phenomena of the kind mentioned are henceforth to be considered as a subject of study for an open-minded psychology. I may refer in support of this view, among others, to the powerful work of Morselli. And to return to the "thinking" animals, we find that the mediumistic hypothesis, however shifty it may seem, is a better explanation than the telepathic hypothesis—which has already itself become rather more systematized in modern psychology.

After his visits to Elberfeld, Claparede, as I said, had found it difficult to treat as valid the telepathic hypothesis when applied to Krall's horses. What, indeed, had been "transmitted" to them? Numbers? Words? Single letters? (or orders to stop the foot at the right time?) It must be remembered that the horses were tapping their answers by using a sort of stenography, that usually left out the vowels: that besides, although the words could be recognized in the most certain manner, the spelling was most irregular, and, as I have already pointed out, sometimes reversed. Further, as to the words themselves, most infantile phrases were used, certainly such as no adult would have suggested. Was it suggestion then from one unconscious to another? But this is to fall back upon a supposition of the "mediumistic" type, and takes no count of the cases of replies to questions which were unknown to everybody present, and brings us to the single dilemma: either there is intelligence in the human sense in the animal, or a relationship of the mediumistic type above described between the several minds concerned.

As to the interesting observations reported by Ferrari and Pulle, it seems to me opportune to quote here some extracts from the first of these distinguished authors.

"This seance was particularly interesting, because I find it recorded in my notes that a fact was verified three times consecutively, which had occurred sporadically more than once before, and had been observed and noted by us and various other witnesses.

"It consisted in this: While I was putting in the box the number of balls which I had intended the horse to read, the horse, which often could not even have seen the number of balls, because I covered them partly with my head and hands, tapped out the correct number.

"The same thing happened when I took in one hand a card, the signs on which it could only have read with difficulty, the light being rather bad. The most curious thing about it was that the taps were then made upon the whole more rapidly and less strongly than usual; and that several times later on the horse gave the same number itself with some little difficulty.

"It is also curious that it should have repeated the performance, seeing that it was only once rewarded for it, and that, because it was agreed that it had done its reading well. I must add that the person who assisted me told me that generally, even when it was giving correctly the number decided on, it hardly looked to see how I was placing the balls in the box....

"Once when I was arranging three balls, because some one standing behind the horse had made me the sign 3, the horse tapped its three beats behind my shoulders while stretching out its neck by my side in order to try to take a salad leaf, thus showing that it was taking very little interest in the sign which I held out to it and in the taps which it was making.

"Certainly, this time at least, the animal seemed to perform an automatic action, and it seemed to me that we had guessed subconsciously what the horse intended to do. This may appear a crooked hypothesis, but it is less difficult for me than to think that the horse had read in my mind the number which I had there. It certainly did nothing on most occasions to upset the fairly clear and precise impression that it was obeying some more or less complex determinism."

It seems to me difficult to avoid the impression that what has just been stated does not reveal a simple telepathic relationship but something rather more deep. The want of interest by the animal in its behaviour is for me symptomatic, and agrees perfectly well with the sensation of the observer that he also had to obey some obscure determinism. I see here another case of a combined psychical (partial) operation of a "mediumistic" kind; and this hypothesis makes very plausible the other no less impressive hypothesis of the observer that his mind was reading (in a subconscious way) the mind of the horse. I call this hypothesis of Ferrari impressive, because in this case it was due to a person who is certainly not to be suspected of dilettantism, and still less of any pseudo-scientific mysticism.

For the rest I repeat that "telepathy" also may co-exist along with "mediumistic" action. In a general way, telepathy would seem to assume in the animal a greater amount of "human" psychic affinity, whilst in mediumistic action I look upon the animal as reacting to the intervention of the other mind in a much more "automatic" way: almost like a "speaking table," but a table provided with live feet rather than inert legs, and above all provided with a nervous system forming part of it, so that very little action on the part of the medium is required, but the subliminal action of the investigator is enough by itself to work it. (Of course, this does not exclude altogether action by others or by the horse itself).

Krall admits the possibility of telepathy (but in a very limited measure): and then, if I remember right, he was looking finally for an explanation which to-day I should perhaps call of the mediumistic type, if I had been better acquainted with it; but in fact I had of him, in his lifetime, only some vague hint on the point.

As to Miss Kindermann, she recognises the possibility of transmission of thought in certain cases (e.g. when Lola is tired or is unwilling to "work" any more). According to her it would be a question of a line of least resistance, along which the "work" of the animal becomes more easy. Hence arises the necessity, as she maintains, for the investigator to be very careful of the danger of falsified results and to abstain with this object from any intentional thought. But these are the very conditions which "mediums" impose on investigators, and if these conditions are not observed, mediumistic seances seem only to be successful with difficulty. Therefore, in trying to resist the danger of telepathic falsification, and without indeed being aware of the resulting consequences, Lola's mistress may have contributed to create the very conditions most favourable to the development of mediumistic action.

V. THE HYPOTHESIS OF CONCOMITANT PSYCHICAL AUTOMATISM

In various parts of her book Miss Kindermann emphasizes the fact that after having given for some days "communications" of a certain kind, a sort of tiredness or annoyance, that gets hold of Lola, completely prevents the repetition of similar communications; but that repetition can take place if some weeks of rest are allowed in the subject which has provoked the tiredness.

In another place she mentions that, with the progress of Lola's "education," the dog's attitude towards herself, and other persons generally, became harder and more difficult, almost hostile (a fact which I find confirmed by certain answers of Lola's referred to elsewhere); just as if the canine consciousness as it gained illumination began to understand the many wrongs done to it by man, which formerly it knew nothing about.