CHAPTER XVII.

MONKEYS, APES AND BABOONS.

WE now come to the last group of animals which we shall have occasion to

consider, and these, from an evolutionary point of view, are the most

interesting. Unfortunately, however, the intelligence of apes, monkeys,

and baboons has not presented material for nearly so many observations

as that of other intelligent mammals. Useless for all purposes of labour

or art, mischievous as domestic pets, and in all cases troublesome to

keep, these animals have never enjoyed the improving influences of

hereditary domestication, while for the same reasons observation of the

intelligence of captured individuals has been comparatively scant. Still

more unfortunately, these remarks apply most of all to the most man-like

of the group, and the nearest existing prototypes of the human race: our

knowledge of the psychology of the anthropoid apes is less than our

knowledge of the psychology of any other animal. But notwithstanding the

scarcity of the material which I have to present, I think there is

enough to show that the mental life of the _Simiadæ_ is of a distinctly

different type from any that we have hitherto considered, and that in

their psychology, as in their anatomy, these animals approach most

nearly to _Homo sapiens_.

_Emotions._

Affection and sympathy are strongly marked--the latter indeed more so

than in any other animal, not even excepting the dog. A few instances

from many that might be quoted will be sufficient to show this.

Mr. Darwin writes:--

Rengger observed an American monkey (a Cebus)

carefully driving away the flies which plagued her

infant; and Duvancel saw a Hylobates washing the faces

of her young ones in a stream. So intense is the grief

of female monkeys for the loss of their young, that it

invariably caused the death of certain kinds kept

under confinement by Brehm in North Africa. Orphan

monkeys were always adopted and carefully guarded by

the other monkeys, both male and female.[271]

Again, Jobson says that whenever his party shot an orang-outang from

their boat, the body was carried off by others before the men could

reach the shore.

So, again, James Forbes, F.R.S., in his 'Oriental Memoirs,' narrates the

following remarkable instance of the display of solicitude and care for

a dead companion exhibited by a monkey:--

One of a shooting-party under a banian tree killed a

female monkey, and carried it to his tent, which was

soon surrounded by forty or fifty of the tribe, who

made a great noise and seemed disposed to attack their

aggressor. They retreated when he presented his

fowling-piece, the dreadful effect of which they had

witnessed and appeared perfectly to understand. The

head of the troop, however, stood his ground,

chattering furiously; the sportsman, who perhaps felt

some little degree of compunction for having killed

one of the family, did not like to fire at the

creature, and nothing short of firing would suffice to

drive him off. At length he came to the door of the

tent, and, finding threats of no avail, began a

lamentable moaning, and by the most expressive gesture

seemed to beg for the dead body. It was given him; he

took it sorrowfully in his arms and bore it away to

his expecting companions. They who were witnesses of

this extraordinary scene resolved never again to fire

at one of the monkey race.

Of course it is not to be supposed from this instance that all, or even

most monkeys display any care for their dead. A writer in 'Nature' (vol.

ix., p. 243), for instance, says expressly that such is not the case

with Gibbons (_Hylobates agilis_), which he has observed to be highly

sympathetic to injured companions, but 'take no notice whatever' of dead

ones.

Regarding their sympathy for injured companions this writer says:--

I keep in my garden a number of Gibbon apes

(_Hylobates agilis_); they live quite free from all

restraint in the trees, merely coming when called to

be fed. One of them, a young male, on one occasion

fell from a tree and dislocated his wrist; it received

the greatest attention from the others, especially

from an old female, who, however, was no relation; she

used before eating her own plantains to take up the

first that were offered to her every day, and give

them to the cripple, who was living in the eaves of a

wooden house; and I have frequently noticed that a cry

of fright, pain, or distress from one would bring all

the others at once to the complainer, and they would

then condole with him and fold him in their arms.

Captain Hugh Crow, in his 'Narrative of my Life,' relates an interesting

tale of the conduct of some monkeys on board his ship. He says:--

We had several monkeys on board; they were of

different species and sizes, and amongst them was a

beautiful little creature, the body of which was about

ten inches or a foot in length, and about the

circumference of a common drinking glass. This

interesting little animal, which, when I received it

from the Governor of the Island of St. Thomas,

diverted me by its innocent gambols, became afflicted

by the malady which unfortunately prevailed in the

ship. It had always been a favourite with the other

monkeys, who seemed to regard it as the last born and

the pet of the family; and they granted it many

indulgences which they seldom conceded to one another.

It was very tractable and gentle in its temper, and

never took advantage of the partiality shown to it.

From the moment it was taken ill their attention and

care of it redoubled; and it was truly affecting and

interesting to see with what anxiety and tenderness

they tended and nursed the little creature. A struggle

often ensued among them for priority in those offices

of affection; and some would steal one thing and some

another, which they would carry to it untasted,

however tempting it might be to their own palates.

Then they would take it up gently in their fore-paws,

hug it to their breasts, and cry over it as a fond

mother would over her suffering child. The little

creature seemed sensible of their assiduities, but it

was wofully overpowered by sickness. It would

sometimes come to me and look me pitifully in the

face, and moan and cry like an infant, as if it

besought me to give it relief; and we did everything

we could think of to restore it to health: but, in

spite of the united attention of its kindred tribes

and ourselves, the interesting little creature did not

survive long.

Here is a case which I myself witnessed at the Zoological Gardens, and

published in the 'Quarterly Journal of Science,' from which I now

quote:--

A year or two ago there was an Arabian baboon and an

Anubis baboon confined in one cage, adjoining that

which contained a dog-headed baboon. The Anubis baboon

passed its hand through the wires of the partition, in

order to purloin a nut which the large dog-headed

baboon had left within reach--expressly, I believe,

that it might act as a bait. The Anubis baboon very

well knew the danger he ran, for he waited until his

bulky neighbour had turned his back upon the nut with

the appearance of having forgotten all about it. The

dog-headed baboon, however, was all the time slyly

looking round with the corner of his eye, and no

sooner was the arm of his victim well within his cage

than he sprang with astonishing rapidity and caught

the retreating hand in his mouth. The cries of the

Anubis baboon quickly brought the keeper to the

rescue, when, by dint of a good deal of physical

persuasion, the dog-headed baboon was induced to leave

go his hold. The Anubis baboon then retired to the

middle of his cage, moaning piteously, and holding the

injured hand against his chest while he rubbed it with

the other one. The Arabian baboon now approached him

from the top part of the cage, and, while making a

soothing sound very expressive of sympathy, folded the

sufferer in its arms--exactly as a mother would her

child under similar circumstances. It must be stated,

also, that this expression of sympathy had a decidedly

quieting effect upon the sufferer, his moans becoming

less piteous so soon as he was enfolded in the arms of

his comforter; and the manner in which he laid his

cheek upon the bosom of his friend was as expressive

as anything could be of sympathy appreciated. This

really affecting spectacle lasted a considerable time,

and while watching it I felt that, even had it stood

alone, it would in itself have been sufficient to

prove the essential identity of some of the noblest

among human emotions with those of the lower animals.

As a beautiful instance of the display of sympathy, I may narrate an

occurrence which was witnessed by my friend Sir James Malcolm--a

gentleman on the accuracy of whose observation I can rely. He was on

board a steamer where there were two common East India monkeys, one of

which was older and larger than the other, though they were not mother

and child. The smaller monkey one day fell overboard amidships. The

larger one became frantically excited, and running over the bulwarks

down to a part of the ship which is called 'the bend,' it held on to the

side of the vessel with one hand, while with the other it extended to

her drowning companion a cord with which she had been tied up, and one

end of which was fastened round her waist. The incident astonished

everyone on board, but unfortunately for the romance of the story the

little monkey was not near enough to grasp the floating end of the cord.

The animal, however, was eventually saved by a sailor throwing out a

longer rope to the little swimmer, who had sense enough to grasp it, and

so to be hauled on board.

The following account of the behaviour of a wounded monkey seems to

suggest the presence of a class of emotions similar to those which we

know as feelings of reproach. The observer was Capt. Johnson:--

I was one of a party of Jeekary in the Bahar district;

our tents were pitched in a large mango garden, and

our horses were picquetted in the same garden a little

distance off. When we were at dinner a Syer came to

us, complaining that some of the horses had broken

loose in consequence of being frightened by monkeys

(i.e. Macacus Orhesus) on the trees. As soon as dinner

was over I went out with my gun to drive them off, and

I fired with small shot at one of them, which

instantly ran down to the lowest branch of the tree,

as if he were going to fly at me, stopped suddenly,

and coolly put his paw to the part wounded, covered

with blood, and held it out for me to see. I was so

much hurt at the time that it has left an impression

never to be effaced, and I have never since fired a

gun at any of the tribe. Almost immediately on my

return to the party, before I had fully described what

had passed, a Syer came to inform us that the monkey

was dead. We ordered the Syer to bring it to us, but

by the time he returned the other monkeys had carried

the dead one off, and none of them could anywhere be

seen.

This case is strikingly corroborated by the following allusion to Sir

W. Hoste's Memoirs, given by Jesse as follows:--

One of his officers, coming home after a long day's

shooting, saw a female monkey running along the rocks,

with her young one in her arms. He immediately fired,

and the animal fell. On his coming up, she grasped her

little one close to her breast, and with her other

hand pointed to the wound which the ball had made, and

which had entered above her breast. Dipping her finger

in the blood, and then holding it up, she seemed to

reproach him with being the cause of her death, and

consequently that of the young one, to which she

frequently pointed. 'I never,' says Sir William, 'felt

so much as when I heard the story, and I determined

never to shoot one of these animals as long as I

lived.'[272]

Mr. Darwin says that most persons who have observed monkeys have seen

them show a sense of the ludicrous. Here is an instance which I have

myself observed, and now quote from my article in the 'Quarterly Journal

of Science:'--

Several years ago I used to watch carefully the young

orang-outang in the Zoological Gardens, and I am quite

sure that she manifested a sense of the ludicrous. One

example will suffice. Her feeding tin was of a

somewhat peculiar shape, and when it was empty she

used sometimes to invert it upon her head. The tin

then presented a comical resemblance to a bonnet, and

as its wearer would generally favour the spectators

with a broad grin at the time of putting it on, she

never failed to raise a laugh from them. Her success

in this respect was evidently attended with no small

gratification on her part.

But perhaps the strongest evidence of monkeys having an appreciation of

the ludicrous is the same as that which we have seen to be presented in

the case of certain dogs--namely, in the animals disliking ridicule.

Abundant evidence on this head in the case of monkeys will be given

further on.

That monkeys enjoy play no one can question who spends an hour or two in

the monkey-house at the Zoological Gardens. According to Savage,

chimpanzees congregate together for the sole purpose of play, when they

beat or drum with pieces of stick on sonorous pieces of wood.[273]

Curiosity is more strongly pronounced in monkeys than in any other

animals. We all know the interesting illustration on this head furnished

by the experiment of Mr. Darwin, who, in order to test the statement of

Brehm that monkeys have an instinctive dread of snakes, and yet cannot

'desist from occasionally satiating their curiosity in a most human

fashion, by lifting up the lid of the box in which the snakes were

kept,' took a stuffed snake to the monkey-house at the Zoological

Gardens. Mr. Darwin says:--

The excitement thus caused was one of the most curious

spectacles I ever beheld. . . . I then placed a live

snake in a paper bag, with the mouth loosely closed,

in one of the larger compartments. One of the monkeys

immediately approached, cautiously opened the bag,

peeped in, and instantly dashed away. Then I witnessed

what Brehm has described, for monkey after monkey,

with head raised high and turned on one side, could

not resist taking a momentary peep into the upright

bag, at the dreadful object lying quietly at the

bottom.[274]

Allied, perhaps, to curiosity, and so connected with the emotions, is

what Mr. Darwin calls 'the principle of imitation.' It is proverbial

that monkeys carry this principle to ludicrous lengths, and they are the

only animals which imitate for the mere sake of imitating, as has been

observed by Desor, though an exception ought to be made in favour of

talking birds. The psychology of imitation is difficult of analysis, but

it is remarkable as well as suggestive that it should be confined in its

manifestations to monkeys and certain birds among animals, and to the

lower mental levels among men. As Mr. Darwin says:--

The principle of imitation is strong in man, and

especially, as I have myself observed, with savages.

In certain morbid states of the brain, this tendency

is exaggerated to an extraordinary degree; some

hemiplegic patients and others, at the commencement

of inflammatory softening of the brain, unconsciously

imitate every word that is uttered, whether in their

own or in a foreign language, and every gesture or

action which is performed near them.

The same sort of tendency is often observable in young children, so that

it seems to be frequently distinctive of a certain stage or grade of

mental evolution, and particularly in the branch _Primates_. Other

animals, however, certainly imitate each other's actions to a certain

extent, as I shall have occasion fully to notice in my next work.

As for the sterner emotions, rage may be so pronounced as to make a

monkey exhaust itself with beating about its cage, or a baboon bite its

own limbs till the blood flows.[275] Jealousy occurs in a correspondingly

high degree, while retaliation and revenge are shown by all the higher

monkeys when injury has been done to them, as any one may find by

offering an insult to a baboon. The following is a good case of this, as

it shows what may be called brooding resentment deliberately preparing a

satisfactory revenge. Mr. Darwin writes:--

Sir Andrew Smith, a zoologist whose scrupulous

accuracy was known to many persons, told me the

following story of which he was himself an

eye-witness. At the Cape of Good Hope, an officer had

often plagued a certain baboon, and the animal, seeing

him approaching one Sunday for parade, poured water

into a hole and hastily made some thick mud, which he

skilfully dashed over the officer as he passed by, to

the amusement of many bystanders. For long afterwards

the baboon rejoiced and triumphed whenever he saw his

victim.[276]

_General Intelligence._

Coming now to the higher powers, I shall give a few cases to show that

monkeys certainly surpass all other animals in the scope of their

rational faculty. Professor Croora Robertson writes me:--

I witnessed the following incident in the Jardin des

Plantes, now many years ago; but it struck me greatly

at the time, and I have narrated it repeatedly in the

interval. A large ape--I believe anthropoid, but

cannot tell the species--was in the great iron cage

with a number of smaller monkeys, and was lording it

over them with many wild gambols, to the amusement of

a crowd of spectators. Many things--fruits and the

like--had been thrown between the bars into the cage,

which the ape was always forward to seize. At last

some one threw in a small hand looking-glass, with a

strongly made frame of wood. This the ape at once laid

hold of, and began to brandish like a hammer. Suddenly

he was arrested by the reflection of himself in the

glass, and looked puzzled for a moment; then he darted

his head behind the glass to find the other of his

kind that he evidently supposed to be there.

Astonished to find nothing, he apparently bethought

himself that he had not been quick enough with his

movement. He now proceeded to raise and draw the glass

nearer to him with great caution, and then with a

swifter dart looked behind. Again finding nothing, he

repeated the attempt once more. He now passed from

astonishment to anger, and began to beat with the

frame violently on the floor of the cage. Soon the

glass was shattered, and pieces fell out. Continuing

to beat, he was in the course of one blow again

arrested by his image in the piece of glass still

remaining in the frame. Then, as it seemed, he

determined to make one trial more. More circumspectly

than ever the whole first part of the process was gone

through with; more violently than ever the final dart

made. His fury over this last failure knew no bounds.

He crunched the frame and glass together with his

teeth, he beat on the floor, he crunched again, till

nothing but splinters was left.

Mr. Darwin writes: 'Rengger, a most careful observer, states that when

first he gave eggs to his monkeys in Paraguay, they smashed them, and

thus lost much of their contents; afterwards they generally hit one end

against some hard body, and picked off the bits with their fingers.

After cutting themselves only _once_ with any sharp tool, they would not

touch it again, or would handle it with the greatest caution. Lumps of

sugar were often given them wrapped up in paper; and Rengger sometimes

put a live wasp in the paper, so that in hastily unfolding it they got

stung; after this had _once_ happened, they always first held the packet

to their ears to detect any movement within.'[277]

The powers of observation and readiness to establish new associations

thus rendered apparent, display a high level of general intelligence.

Mr. Darwin further observes that Mr. Belt 'likewise describes various

actions of a tamed cebus, which, I think, clearly show that this animal

possessed some reasoning power.' The following is the account to which

Mr. Darwin here refers, and I quote it _in extenso_, because, as I shall

presently show, I have myself been able to confirm most of the

observations on another monkey of the same genus:--

It would sometimes entangle itself round a pole to

which it was fastened, and then unwind the coils again

with the greatest discernment. Its chain allowed it to

swing down below the verandah, but it could not reach

to the ground. Sometimes, when there were broods of

young ducks about, it would hold out a piece of bread

in one hand, and when it had tempted a duckling within

reach, seize it by the other, and kill it with a bite

in the breast. There was such an uproar amongst the

fowls on these occasions, that we soon knew what was

the matter, and would rush out and punish Mickey (as

we called him) with a switch; so that he was

ultimately cured of his poultry-killing propensities.

One day, when whipping him, I held up the dead

duckling in front of him, and at each blow of the

light switch told him to take hold of it, and at last,

much to my surprise, he did so, taking it and holding

it tremblingly in one hand. He would draw things

towards him with a stick, and even used a swing for

the same purpose. It had been put up for the children,

and could be reached by Mickey, who now and then

indulged himself in a swing on it. One day I had put

down some bird-skins on a chair to dry, far beyond, as

I thought, Mickey's reach; but, fertile in expedients,

he took the swing and launched it towards the chair,

and actually managed to knock the skins off in the

return of the swing, so as to bring them within his

reach. He also procured some jelly that was set out to

cool in the same way. Mickey's actions were very

human-like. When any one came near to fondle him, he

never neglected the opportunity of pocket-picking. He

would pull out letters, and quickly take them from

their envelopes.[278]

I shall now proceed to state some further facts, showing the high level

of intelligence to which monkeys of various kinds attain.

The orang which Cuvier had used to draw a chair from one end to the

other of a room, in order to stand upon it so as to reach a latch which

it desired to open; and in this we have a display of rationally adaptive

action which no dog has equalled, although, as in the case before given

of the dog dragging the mat, it has been closely approached. Again,

Rengger describes a monkey employing a stick wherewith to prise up the

lid of a chest, which was too heavy for the animal to raise otherwise.

This use of a lever as a mechanical instrument is an action to which no

animal other than a monkey has ever been known to attain; and, as we

shall subsequently see, my own observation has fully corroborated that

of Rengger in this respect. More remarkable still, as we shall also

subsequently see, the monkey to which I allude as having myself

observed, succeeded also by methodical investigation, and without any

assistance, in discovering for himself the mechanical principle of the

screw; and that monkeys well understand how to use stones as hammers is

a matter of common observation since Dampier and Wafer first described

this action as practised by these animals in the breaking open of

oyster-shells. The additional observation of Gernelli Carreri of monkeys

thrusting stones into the open valves of oysters so as to save

themselves the trouble of smashing the shells, though not incredible,

requires confirmation. But Mr. Haden, of Dundee, has communicated to me

the following very remarkable appreciation of mechanical principles

which he himself observed in a monkey (species not noted), and which

would certainly be beyond the mental powers of any other animal:--

'A large monkey, confined alone in a large cage, had its sleeping-place

in the form of a kind of hut in the centre of the cage. Springing near

the hut was a tree, or imitation tree, the main branch of which ascended

over the top of the hut, and then came forwards away from it. Whether

the roof of the hut enabled this animal to gain any part of this branch,

I did not observe, but only remarked its method at the time of gaining

the part of the branch which led frontwards, and away from the hut.

This could be done by means of the hut door, which, when opened, swung

beneath this part of the branch. The door, either by accident or by the

design of its construction, _swung_ to each time the animal opened it to

mount upon its top edge. After one or two efforts to mount by it in

spite of its immediate swinging to, the creature procured a thick

blanket which lay in the cage, and threw it over the door, having opened

the same, so that its complete swinging to was prevented sufficiently

for the creature to mount upon its free edge, and so gain that part of

the branch which ran above it.'

The following, which I quote from 'Nature' (vol. xxiii., p. 533), also

displays high intelligence:--

One of the large monkeys at the Alexandra Palace had

been for some time suffering from the decay of the

right lower canine, and an abscess, forming a large

protuberance on the jaw, had resulted. The pain seemed

so great, it was decided to consult a dentist as to

what should be done; and, as the poor creature was at

times very savage, it was thought that if the tooth

had to be extracted, gas should be used for the safety

of the operation. Preparations were made accordingly,

but the behaviour of the monkey was quite a surprise

to all who were concerned. He showed great fight on

being taken out of the cage, and not only struggled

against being put into a sack prepared with a hole cut

for his head, but forced one of his hands out, and

snapped and screamed, and gave promise of being very

troublesome. Directly, however, Mr. Lewen Moseley, who

had undertaken the operation, managed to get his hand

on the abscess and gave relief, the monkey's demeanour

changed entirely. He laid his head down quietly for

examination, and, without the use of the gas,

submitted to the removal of a stump of a tooth as

quietly as possible.

According to D'Osbonville, certain monkeys that he observed in the wild

state were in the habit of administering corporal chastisement to their

young. After suckling and cleansing them, the mothers used to sit down

and watch the youngsters play. These would wrestle, throw and chase each

other, &c.; but if any of them grew malicious, the dams would spring up,

and, seizing their offspring by the tail with one hand, correct them

severely with the other.

We have already seen that dogs and cats display the idea of maintaining

discipline among their progeny.

According to Houzeau the sacred monkey of India (_Semnopithecus

entellus_) is very clever in catching snakes, and in the case of

poisonous species destroy the fangs by breaking them against stones.[279]

Of the fact that monkeys act in co-operation, many proofs might be

given, but one will suffice.

Lieutenant Schipp, in his Memoirs, says:--

A Cape baboon having taken off some clothes from the

barracks, I formed a party to recover them. With

twenty men I made a circuit to cut them off from the

caverns, to which they always fled for shelter. They

observed my movements, and detaching about fifty to

guard the entrance, the others kept their post. We

could see them collecting large stones and other

missiles. One old grey-headed one, who had often paid

us a visit at the barracks, was seen distributing his

orders, as if a general. We rushed on to the attack,

when, at a scream from him, they rolled down enormous

stones on us, so that we were forced to give up the

contest.

I shall here bring to a close my selections from the literature of

monkey psychology, because I wish to devote a good deal of space to

detailing a number of observations which have not yet been published.

Thinking it desirable for the purposes of this work that an intelligent

monkey should be subjected to close observation for some length of time,

I applied to Mr. Sclater for the loan of one from the collection of the

Zoological Society. He kindly consented to my proposal, and I selected a

specimen of _Cebus fatuellus_, which appeared to me to be the most

intelligent monkey in the collection. Not having facilities for keeping

the animal in my own house, I consigned him to the charge of my sister

(who lives close by), with the request that she should carefully note

all points of interest connected with his intelligence. Therefore, from

the day of his arrival till that of his departure she kept a diary, or

note-book, in which all the observations that she made when I was absent

were entered. It was originally my intention to make an abstract of this

note-book; but on afterwards reading it through for this purpose, it

seemed to me that I should rather spoil matters by attempting a

condensation. There is a certain graphic effect incidental to the diary

form and spontaneous style of diction--the notes, of course, not having

been written with a view to verbatim publication; and besides, as the

psychology of monkeys has been so little studied, I think it is well to

give all the details of a continuous series of observations. It is

desirable to add that on occasions subsequent to the taking of this or

that particular note, I generally had the opportunity of verifying the

observation myself; but I may state that I attach no more importance to

this circumstance than I should to verifying an observation of my own;

for as a careful observer of animals I have quite as much confidence in

my sister as in myself. It only remains to explain that my mother, being

an invalid, is confined most of the time to her bedroom; and that the

monkey was kept there for the first six weeks of his stay at her house,

partly in order that he might be under constant observation, and partly

also to furnish her with an entertaining pet. The following are my

sister's notes _in extenso_ and without alteration:--

_Brown Capuchin_ (_Cebus fatuellus_--Linn.), _Brazil_.

DIARY, 1880.

_December_ 18th. Arrived in box with keeper. Seemed

rather frightened and screamed a good deal on being

transferred from small box to a larger one.

19th. Took him out of the box he had been in all night

and fastened chain on to collar. Was meek and subdued,

hiding his face in my lap.

20th. Has become much more lively and somewhat

aggressive, especially towards the servants. He has

taken a fancy to my mother, and (she holding his

chain) he plays with her in a gentle and affectionate

manner in her bed, but flies angrily at any of the

servants who come near the bed. I observed to-day that

he breaks walnuts (which are too hard for him to crack

with his teeth) by striking them with the flat bottom

of a dish he has for drinking out of. He is

ceaselessly active all day, and at night covers

himself very neatly with warm shawls, and sleeps

soundly till about eight o'clock.

21st. I notice that the love of mischief is very

strong in him. To-day he got hold of a wine-glass and

an egg-cup. The glass he dashed on the floor with all

his might, and of course broke it. Finding, however,

that the egg-cup would not break for being thrown

down, he looked round for some hard substance against

which to dash it. The post of the brass bedstead

appearing to be suitable for the purpose, he raised

the egg-cup high over his head and gave it several

hard blows. When it was completely smashed he was

quite satisfied. He breaks a stick by passing it down

between a heavy object and the wall, and then hanging

on to the end, thus breaking it across the heavy

object. He frequently destroys an article of dress by

carefully pulling out the threads (thus unripping it)

before he begins to tear it with his teeth in a more

violent manner. If he gets hold of anything that he

sees we do not care about, he soon leaves it again;

but if it is an article of value (even if it be only a

scrap of paper) which he sees we are anxious about,

nothing will induce him to give it up. No food,

however inviting, will distract his attention:

scolding only makes him more angry, and he keeps the

article until it is quite destroyed. To-day I gave him

a hammer to break his walnuts with, and he uses it in

a proper manner for that purpose.

22nd. To-day a strange person (a dressmaker) came into

the room where he is tied up, and I gave him a walnut

that she might see him break it with his hammer. The

nut was a bad one, and the woman laughed at his

disappointed face. He then became very angry, and

threw at her everything he could lay hands on; first

the nut, then the hammer, then a coffee-pot which he

seized out of the grate, and, lastly, all his own

shawls. He throws things with great force and

precision by holding them in both hands, and extending

his long arms well back over his head before

projecting the missile, standing erect the while.

23rd. There is continual war between him and Sharp [a

small terrier], but they both seem to have a certain

mutual respect for each other. The dog makes snatches

at nuts, &c., and runs away with them beyond the reach

of his chain, and the monkey catches at the dog, but

seems afraid to hold him or hurt him. He however pelts

him with nuts or bits of carrot, and chatters at him.

At other times he holds out his hand as if to make

friends, but the dog is too suspicious to go near him.

His hostility towards the servants (one especially)

increases, so that he will not even take a nut from

her without catching fiercely at her hand; he also

frequently throws things at her. On the other hand, he

allows my mother to do anything with him.

24th. He bit me in several places to-day when I was

taking him away from my mother's bed after his

morning's game there. I took no notice, but he seemed

ashamed of himself afterwards, hiding his face in his

arms and sitting quiet for a time.[280] In accordance

with his desire for mischief, he is of course very

fond of upsetting things, but he always takes great

care they do not fall on himself. Thus he will pull a

chair towards him till it is almost over-balanced,

then he intently fixes his eyes on the top bar of the

back, and when he sees it coming over his way, darts

from underneath and watches the fall with great

delight; and similarly with heavier things. There is a

washhand-stand, for example, with a heavy marble top,

which he has with great labour upset several times,

and always without hurting himself.[281]

25th. I observed to-day that if a nut or any object he

wishes to get hold of is beyond the reach of his

chain, he puts out a stick to draw it towards him, or,

if that does not succeed, he stands upright and throws

a shawl back over his head, holding it by the two

corners so that it falls down his back; he then throws

it forward with all his strength, still holding on by

the corners; thus it goes out far in front of him and

covers the nut, which he then draws towards him by

pulling in the shawl. When his chain becomes twisted

round the bars of a 'clothes-horse' (which is given

him to run about upon), and thus too short for his

comfort, he looks at it intently and pulls it with his

fingers this way and that, and when he sees how the

turns are taken, he deliberately goes round and round

the bars, first this way, then that, until the chain

is quite disentangled. He often carries his chain

grasped in his tail and held high over his back to

keep it from getting into the way of his feet. He is

always rather excited in the morning when I loosen his

chain preparatory to taking him to my mother's bed;

jumps about and tugs at the chain. Sometimes, however,

if the chain is entangled, and I am rather long in

getting it unfastened, he sits quietly down beside me,

and begins picking at the chain with his fingers as

if to help me to untie it. I cannot say, however, that

he succeeds in helping me at all.

26th. He seems very fond of spinning things round. If

he gets a whole apple or orange he generally sits

spinning it on one end, before beginning to eat it. He

eats an orange by biting off a tiny piece of the peel,

and putting his long, thin finger deep into the fruit;

he then lays the whole orange under a piece of wire

netting he has near him, and, putting his mouth to the

hole he has made, presses the wire netting down upon

the fruit, thus squeezing the juice up into his mouth.

When a good deal of juice begins to run out, he holds

the orange up over his head and lets the juice run

into his mouth.

27th. To-day he obtained possession of a rather

valuable document, and, as usual, nothing I could do

would persuade him to give it up. He neglected any

kind of food I offered him, and only chattered when I

coaxed him. When at last I tried threatening him with

a cane, he only became savage and flew at me,

chattering. My mother now came and sat down in a chair

beside him. He immediately jumped into her lap, and

remained quite still while she took the paper out of

his hands. When, however, she handed it to me and I

laughed at her success, he showed his teeth and

screamed and chattered at me angrily. I find laughing

generally irritates him. Thus, when he is playing with

my mother in the bed in the best of humour, as long as

I sit quietly on the bed all is well, but if I laugh,

for example at any of his affectionate glances, he

makes a dart at me to send me off, and then returns

with renewed demonstrations of affection to my mother,

tumbling head over heels and lying on his back,

grinning in a most comical manner, and making a sound

very like slight laughter.

28th. His chain is fastened to the marble slab of a

washhand-stand, placed on the floor against the wall.

It is too heavy for him to pull along by his chain

without hurting himself, so when he desires to do any

mischief which is beyond the reach of his chain, he

deliberately goes to the marble and pushes an arm down

between an upright part of it and the wall, until he

has moved the whole slab sufficiently far from the

wall to admit of his slipping down behind the upright

part himself. He then places his back against the wall

and his four hands against the upright part of the

marble, and pushes the slab as far as he can stretch

his long legs. He only does this, however, when he is

bent on mischief, as the fact of food being beyond the

reach of his chain does not furnish a strong enough

inducement to lead him to take so much exertion. Thus

to-day he began to pull the glazed leather cover off

a trunk which was near him. I pulled the trunk away,

and when he found it was out of his reach he ran and

pushed the marble towards the trunk in the manner I

have described, and when he knew his chain was then

sufficiently long to reach the trunk, he ran to the

latter and hastily resumed his destructive process.

29th. I notice that nothing the person does who has

hold of his chain offends him. I mean, although he is

furiously angry at having anything taken away from

him, he is not at all angry if he is pulled away by

his chain. If he is trying to bite a person, and

another person takes hold of his chain behind him and

so prevents his spring forward, he does not turn to

bite the person who has taken hold of his chain, as a

dog would do under similar circumstances, but quietly

submits to be thus held. He seems to look upon his

confinement and management by a chain as a natural law

against which it is useless to struggle. On the other

hand, he seems to be quite aware of the place where

his chain is fastened, and to know that if he were

clever enough to undo it he would be free. After we

found he could move about the marble slab of the

washhand-stand in the way described, we had a ring

sunk in the floor to tie him to. The moment the chain

was fastened to that[282] he began to investigate its

new connection, and continued to do so for hours,

passing the chain rapidly backward and forwards

through the ring. When he found this did not loosen

it, he began to hammer it and the ring also with all

his strength, and this he continued to do for the rest

of the day.

30th. He still continues to work at the chain where it

is fastened to the ring. He passed the whole of the

chain through the ring so many times with his fingers

that it became quite blocked up in the ring, which

made it very short, and it took me a quarter of an

hour to disentangle it. He was very much interested in

this process, sitting quietly beside me and watching

my fingers intently, sometimes gently pulling my

fingers on one side in order to see better, and

sometimes casting a quick intelligent glance into my

face as if asking how I did it. After I had

disentangled and lengthened the chain he worked at it

again for hours, but took care not to twist it into

the ring a second time.

31st. To-day he hurt himself by getting one of his

toes caught in a hinge of the clothes-horse. He did

not make any fuss, although the accident must have

been somewhat a painful one, nor did he try to pull

the toe out, which would have been useless and only

hurt him more; but he sat almost motionless, making

slight complaining noises until I discovered that

there was something wrong with him. When I began to

extricate his foot, he remained perfectly

passive--although I dare say I hurt him a good

deal--and only looked at me gratefully.

_January_ 1, 1881. He has now quite given up trying to

loosen his chain himself; having tried every way and

failed, he has evidently become hopeless about it. He

now resents being tied up. When I loosen him he is

quite pleased, and when I tie him he waits until he is

quite sure he is being tied, and not loosened, and

then he flies at me and bites me.

10th. As he is always tied up in the same place he has

no new opportunities given him of showing his

intelligence. His attachment to my mother has

increased. When she goes out he immediately gives up

all play and mischief, and does nothing but run round

and round in a restless manner, making a peculiar

sweet calling noise, such as he never makes when she

is in the room, listening intently between times. As

long as she remains away he takes no rest or

amusement, nor does he ever, or hardly ever, become

angry; but the moment she returns he begins all his

old ways again, usually becoming more savage at other

people than before.

My mother frequently takes things away from him, and

he never resents it to her as he would do to any other

person. He generally, however, chatters angrily at

some one else when my mother removes anything he

wishes to keep. At first I thought he was deceived in

the matter--that he could not believe it possible that

his best friend could deprive him of what he valued,

and so thought someone else must have done it. But the

same thing has now happened so frequently that I can

hardly think he is not really aware of who takes the

things away. He seems rather to think it politic to

keep on good terms with one person, and that although

he does see her remove the things, and feels angry in

consequence, he thinks it more prudent to vent his

anger upon someone with whom he has already

quarrelled. He always shows more irritation when my

mother gives anything to me after having taken it away

from him, than when she keeps it herself (as mentioned

on December 26), and this may be the reason partly why

he resents these matters to me; he thinks when I

obtain possession of anything he wants that it is a

sort of triumph to me. In the same way my mother may

laugh as much as she likes whether he is with her or

not, but if I laugh at all at anything it generally

results in something being thrown at me. If my mother

calls out to the servants--if, for instance, a servant

has left the room and my mother calls her back--he

becomes very angry at the servant, and salutes her on

her return with a shower of missiles. Sometimes my

mother pretends to scold or beat the servants, and

then he joins with great energy, by way of supporting

his friend. If I scold or beat the servants he does

not mind so much. When my mother comes back after

being out he does not show any great demonstrations of

joy. He screams out with pleasure when he hears her

voice approaching on the stairs, but does not make

much ado when she enters the room. While my mother is

out I can do anything I like with him, just as she can

when she is at home. Perhaps being in low spirits he

does not feel angry, or perhaps he thinks it prudent

to be amiable when his best friend is away. When my

mother comes back, all his ill-temper returns at once

and even in an increased degree towards other people,

and he immediately resumes playing with all his toys.

11th. When he throws things at people now he first

runs up the bars of the clothes-horse; he seems to

have found out that people do not much care for having

things thrown at their feet, and he is not strong

enough to throw such heavy objects as a poker or a

hammer at people's heads; he therefore mounts to a

level with his enemy's head, and thus succeeds in

sending his missile to a greater height and also to a

greater distance.

14th. To-day he obtained possession of a hearth-brush,

one of the kind which has the handle screwed into the

brush. He soon found the way to unscrew the handle,

and having done that he immediately began to try to

find out the way to screw it in again. This he in time

accomplished. At first he put the wrong end of the

handle into the hole, but turned it round and round

the _right way for screwing_. Finding it did not hold,

he turned the other end of the handle and carefully

stuck it into the hole, and began again to turn it the

right way. It was of course a very difficult feat for

him to perform, for he required both his hands to hold

the handle in the proper position and to turn it

between his hands in order to screw it in, and the

long bristles of the brush prevented it from remaining

steady or with the right side up. He held the brush

with his hind hand, but even so it was very difficult

for him to get the first turn of the screw to fit into

the thread; he worked at it, however, with the most

unwearying perseverance until he got the first turn of

the screw to catch, and he then quickly turned it

round and round until it was screwed up to the end.

The most remarkable thing was that, however often he

was disappointed in the beginning, he never was

induced to try turning the handle the wrong way; he

always screwed it from right to left. As soon as he

had accomplished his wish, he unscrewed it again, and

then screwed it in again the second time rather more

easily than the first, and so on many times. When he

had become by practice tolerably perfect in screwing

and unscrewing, he gave it up and took to some other

amusement. One remarkable thing is that he should take

so much trouble to do that which is no material

benefit to him. The desire to accomplish a chosen task

seems a sufficient inducement to lead him to take any

amount of trouble. This seems a very human feeling,

such as is not shown, I believe, by any other animal.

It is not the desire of praise, as he never notices

people looking on; it is simply the desire to achieve

an object for the sake of achieving an object, and he

never rests nor allows his attention to be distracted

until it is done.

16th. When he is angry, and has at hand only those

things which he wishes to keep, he makes a great show

of throwing them at people, but always retains a hold.

Thus if he has had a plaything a long time and is

tired of it, he throws it right at a person without

the least hesitation; but if he has a new thing which

he values, he goes through all the appropriate motions

for throwing, but only brings the object down with a

noise upon the ground, taking care not to let go his

hold. He beats people with a long cane he has, and

when he cannot reach people he strikes it with all his

strength upon the ground to show what he would do if

he had the chance. There is no more comical sight than

to see him hurriedly climbing his screen in fierce

anger, taking (not without great difficulty) his long

and awkward stick up with him in order to be high

enough to give a good blow to a person. The dog is

quite afraid of the stick in the monkey's hands,

although he is too petted to be afraid of it in a

person's. The monkey is jealous of the dog lying in

the arm-chair in which he sometimes seats himself with

my mother, so he pokes the stick at the dog (as the

chair is beyond the reach of his chain) and makes him

get off.

18th. He was very angry to-day at a servant girl

sweeping out his place with a long brush, and he

seized the brush every time the servant attempted to

sweep. My mother then took it, and he at once became

not only quite good-tempered, but assisted her in

sweeping, by gathering the rubbish in the corners of

his place into little heaps with his hands, and

putting the heaps into the way of the brush.

20th. To-day he broke his chain, and flew at a

servant savagely, but seeing my mother he immediately

jumped into her lap. While another chain was being

prepared he got to the trunk where his nuts are kept.

I have long noticed that he looks upon that trunk as

in some special sense his own property. There are

other things kept in the trunk as well as the nuts,

and if any person goes to the trunk for anything he

becomes furiously angry. Indeed nothing makes him so

angry as people opening the trunk, and this is not

because he wants nuts out of it, for he always has

more than he can eat beside him, and generally refuses

to take any that are offered to him. Well, to-day, as

soon as the breaking of his chain enabled him to get

to the trunk, he began picking at the lock with his

fingers. I then gave him the key, and he tried for two

full hours without ceasing to unlock the trunk with

this key. It was a very difficult lock to open, being

slightly out of order, and requires the lid of the

trunk to be pressed down before it would work, so I

believe it was absolutely impossible for him to open

it, but he found in time the right way to put the key

in, and to turn it backwards and forwards, and after

every attempt he pulled the lid upwards to see if it

were unlocked. That this was the result of observing

people is obvious, from the fact that after every time

he put the key into the lock and failed to open the

trunk, he passed the key round and round the outside

of the lock several times. The explanation of this is

that, my mother's sight being bad, she often misses

the lock when putting in the key, and then feels round

and round the lock with the key; the monkey therefore

evidently seems to think that this feeling round and

round the lock with the key is in some way necessary

to the success of unlocking the lock, so that,

although he could see perfectly well how to put the

key in straight himself, he went through this useless

operation first.

21st. To-day I gave him a wooden box with the lid

nailed on, and an iron spoon, to see if he would use

the latter as a lever wherewith to raise the lid. The

experiment was somewhat spoiled by my mother putting

the handle of the spoon into the crack between the lid

and the box to show him how to do it. Therefore I

cannot tell whether or not he would have taken this

first step himself, if he had had time to do so.

However, when the handle of the spoon was in he

certainly used it in the proper manner, pulling it

down with all his strength at the extreme end, thus

drawing the nails out of the box and raising the lid.

22nd. He was sitting on my mother's knee, and she

washing his hands with a little sponge, a process of

which he is very fond; she tried to wash his face,

and that he disliked very much. Every time she began,

the expression of his face became more angry; at last

he suddenly jumped off her knee, and made a violent

attack on one of the servants who is usually his

favourite, although she was doing nothing at all to

anger him. This is a good instance of his habit of

venting his anger at my mother on other people. He

always eats vigorously when he is angry, or after a

fit of passion. After a prolonged fit of passion he

always lies down on his side as if dead, probably from

exhaustion.

30th. He quite understands the meaning of shaking

hands. He always holds out his own hand when he wishes

to be friendly, especially when a friend is entering

or leaving the room. To-day he had been a long time

playing with his toys, taking no notice of any one.

Suddenly my mother remembered that to-day was my

birthday, and (for the first time since he came to the

house) shook hands with me in congratulation. He

immediately became very angry with me, screamed and

chattered and threw things at me, being evidently

jealous of the attention my mother was paying me.

_February_ 1st. He has now been moved down to the

dining-room, where he is chained between the fireplace

and the window. He seems quite miserable on account of

the change, as he does not see so much of my mother.

4th. His low spirits continue, and threaten to make

him ill. He will not play with anything, but sits

moping and shivering in a corner. To-day I found him

very cold and unhappy, and warmed his hands for him.

He is very meek and gentle, and seems to be getting

fond of me.

8th. He has quite recovered his spirits since he took

a fancy to me. He likes me now apparently as well as

he used to do my mother; that is to say, he allows me

to nurse him, and walk about in his place, and even

take things away from him. When, however, my mother

comes to see him, he does not care for me, although he

shows none of his old hostility. To the servants,

however, he continues to do so when my mother is

present.

10th. We gave him a bundle of sticks this morning, and

he amused himself all day by poking them into the fire

and pulling them out again to smell the smoking end.

He likewise pulls out hot cinders from the grate and

passes them over his head and chest, evidently

enjoying the warmth, but never burning himself. He

also puts hot ashes on his head. I gave him some

paper, and, as he cannot, from the length of his

chain, quite reach the fire, he rolled the paper up

into the form of a stick, and then put it into the

fire, pulling it out as soon as it caught light, and

watching the blaze in the fender with great

satisfaction. I gave him a whole newspaper, and he

tore it in pieces, rolled up each piece as I have

described, to make it long enough to reach the fire,

and so burnt it all piece by piece. He never once

burnt his own fingers during the operation.

13th. He can open and shut the folding shutters with

ease, and this seems to be an amusement to him. He

also unscrewed all the knobs that belong to the

fender. The bell-handle beside the mantelpiece he

likewise took to bits, which involves the unscrewing

of three screws.

15th. He is so amiable to me now that he constantly

gives me bits of things that he himself is eating,

evidently expecting me to share his repast with him.

Sometimes this attention on his part is not altogether

agreeable. For instance, to-day he thrust into my

hand, when I was not looking, a quantity of sopped

bread and milk out of his pan, no doubt thinking

himself very kind-hearted thus to supply me with food.

17th. He offered the dog a bit of toast which he

himself was eating, and the dog took a part of it. I

think, however, that he had at the same time a sly

design of catching the dog with the other hand, but he

did not do so--perhaps because I was looking on, and

he knows the dog is a friend of mine; but he had a

wicked look in his eye while feeding the dog, which he

has not when he extends his bounty to me.

19th. When I was brushing him to-day he took the brush

away from me. Playthings are especially valuable to

him now, as he is not allowed to have any lest he

should break the windows with them. For this reason I

was afraid to leave the brush with him, but found he

was not at all disposed to give it up. I threw other

things within his reach, but he carried the brush in

his hind hand while going after the other things. At

last I sat down and called him gently, when he mildly

came up to my lap and put the brush into my two hands,

evidently resolving that he would not now quarrel with

his only friend.

22nd. His manner of showing his humours is

interesting, as illustrating the principle of

antithesis. Thus when he is angry he springs forward

on all four hands with tail very erect and hair

raised, so making himself look much bigger. When

affectionate he advances slowly _backwards_ with his

body in the form of a hoop, so that the crown of his

head rests on the ground, face inwards. He walks on

three hands (hair very smooth), and puts the fourth

fore-hand out at his back in advance of his body. He

expects this hand to be taken kindly, and he then

assumes his natural attitude. In that manner of

advancing it is obviously impossible that he could

bite, as his mouth is towards his own chest, so it is

the best way of showing how far he is from thinking of

hostility.

February 28, 1881.

The above account may be taken as fully trustworthy. Most of the

observations recorded I have myself subsequently verified numberless

times. From the account, however, several observations which I happened

to make myself in the first instance are designedly omitted, and these I

shall therefore now supply.

I bought at a toy-shop a very good imitation of a monkey, and brought it

into the room with the real monkey, stroking and speaking to it as if it

were alive. The monkey evidently mistook the figure for a real animal,

manifesting intense curiosity, mixed with much alarm if I made the

figure approach him. Even when I placed the figure upon a table, and

left it standing motionless, the monkey was afraid to approach it. From

this it would appear that the animal trusted much more to his sense of

sight than to that of smell in recognising one of his own kind.

I placed a mirror upon the floor, and the monkey at once mistook his

reflection in it for a real animal. At first he was a little afraid of

it; but in a short time he gained courage enough to approach and try to

touch it. Finding he could not do so, he went round behind the mirror

and then again before it a great number of times; but he did not become

angry, as the monkey of which Prof. Brown Robertson wrote me. Strange to

say, he appeared to mistake the sex of the image, and began in the most

indescribably ludicrous manner to pay to it the addresses of courtship.

First placing his lips against the glass he rose to his full height on

his hind legs, retired slowly, and while doing so turned his back to the

mirror, looking over his shoulder at the image, and, with a preposterous

amount of 'pinch' in his back, strutted up and down before the glass

with all the appearance of the most laughable foppery. This display was

always gone through when at any subsequent time the mirror was placed

upon the floor.

From the first time that he saw me, this monkey took as violently

passionate an attachment to me as that which he took to my mother. His

mode of greeting, however, was different. When she entered the room

after an absence, his welcome was of a quiet and contented character;

but when I came in, his demonstrations were positively painful to

witness. Standing erect on his hind legs at the full length of his

tether, and extending both hands as far as he could reach, he screamed

with all his strength, in a tone and with an intensity which he never

adopted on any other occasion. So loud, indeed, were his rapidly and

continuously reiterated screams, that it was impossible for any one to

hold even a shouting conversation till I took the animal in my arms,

when he became placid, with many signs of intense affection. Even the

sound of my voice down two flights of stairs used to set him screaming

in this manner, so that whenever I called at my mother's house I had to

keep silent while on the staircase, unless I intended first of all to

pay a visit to the monkey.

It has frequently been noticed that monkeys are very capricious in

forming their attachments and aversions; but I never knew before that

this peculiarity could be so strongly marked as it was in this case. His

demonstrations of affection to my mother and myself were piteous; while

towards every one else, male or female, he was either passively

indifferent or actively hostile. Yet no shadow of a reason could be

assigned for the difference. My sister, to whom animals are usually much

more attached than they are to me, used always to be forbearingly kind

to this one--taking all his bites, &c., with the utmost good humour.

Moreover, she supplied him with all his food, and most of his

playthings, so that she was really in every way his best friend. Yet his

antipathy to her was only less remarkable than his passionate fondness

of my mother and myself.

Another trait in the psychology of this animal which is worth observing

was his quietness of manner towards my mother. With me, and indeed with

every one else, his movements were unrestrained, and generally

monkey-like; but with her he was always as gentle as a kitten: he

appeared to know that her age and infirmities rendered boisterousness on

his part unacceptable.

I returned the monkey to the Zoological Gardens at the end of February,

and up to the time of his death in October 1881, he remembered me as

well as the first day that he was sent back. I visited the monkey-house

about once a month, and whenever I approached his cage he saw me with

astonishing quickness--indeed, generally before I saw him--and ran to

the bars, through which he thrust both hands with every expression of

joy. He did not, however, scream aloud; his mind seemed too much

occupied by the cares of monkey-society to admit of a vacancy large

enough for such very intense emotion as he used to experience in the

calmer life that he lived before. Being much struck with the extreme

rapidity of his discernment whenever I approached the cage, however many

other persons might be standing round, I purposely visited the

monkey-house on Easter Monday, in order to see whether he would pick me

out of the solid mass of people who fill the place on that day. Although

I could only obtain a place three or four rows back from the cage, and

although I made no sound wherewith to attract his attention, he saw me

almost immediately, and with a sudden intelligent look of recognition

ran across the cage to greet me. When I went away he followed me, as he

always did, to the extreme end of his cage, and stood there watching my

departure as long as I remained in sight.

In conclusion, I should say that much the most striking feature in the

psychology of this animal, and the one which is least like anything met

with in other animals, was the tireless spirit of investigation. The

hours and hours of patient industry which this poor monkey has spent in

ascertaining all that his monkey-intelligence could of the sundry

unfamiliar objects that fell into his hands, might well read a lesson in

carefulness to many a hasty observer. And the keen satisfaction which he

displayed when he had succeeded in making any little discovery, such as

that of the mechanical principle of the screw, repeating the results of

his newly earned knowledge over and over again, till one could not but

marvel at the intent abstraction of the 'dumb brute'--this was so

different from anything to be met with in any other animal, that I

confess I should not have believed what I saw unless I had repeatedly

seen it with my own eyes. As my sister once observed, while we were

watching him conducting some of his researches, in oblivion to his food

and all his other surroundings--'when a monkey behaves like this, it is

no wonder that man is a scientific animal!' And in my next work I shall

hope to show how, from so high a starting-point, the psychology of the

monkey has passed into that of the man.

FOOTNOTES:

[271] _Descent of Man_, p. 70.

[272] _Gleanings_, vol. iii. pp. 86-7.

[273] _Boston Journal of Nat. Hist._, iv. p. 324.

[274] _Descent of Man_, p. 72.

[275] _Descent of Man_, 71.

[276] _Ibid._, p. 69.

[277] _Descent of Man_, pp. 77-8.

[278] _Naturalist in Nicaragua_, p. 119.

[279] _Loc. cit._, vol. i., p. 305.

[280] On subsequent observation (January 14, 1881), I find this

quietness was not due to shame at having bitten me, for whether he

succeeds in biting any person or not he always sits quiet and

dull-looking after a fit of passion, being, I think, fatigued. He has

bitten me often since December 24, and seems to enjoy the fun on the

whole.

[281] These heavy objects he overturns with exceeding caution, balancing

them several times carefully, and studying them before finally throwing

or pulling them over.

[282] January 14, 1881. The marble slab was left with him after the

chain had been fastened to the ring; but since that time he has never

attempted to move the marble.

INDEX.

ACCOUCHEUR, fish, 246;

toad, 254

_Acerina cernua_, 246

_Acinia prehensa_, 233

_Actinia_, 233, 234

_Actinophrys_, apparent intelligence of, 20

_Adamsia_, 234

Adaptive movement, as evidence of mind, 2, 3

Addison, his definition of instinct, 11

Addison, Mrs. K., on gesticulating signs made by a jackdaw, 316

Ælian, on division of labour in harvesting ants, 98

Æsthetic emotions of birds, 279-82

Affection, sexual, parental, and social, of snails, 27;

of ants, 45-9 and 58, 59;

of bees, 155, 156, and 162;

of earwig, 229;

of fish, 242-6;

of reptiles, 256, 258, 259;

of birds, 270-6;

of kangaroo, 326, 327;

of whale, 327;

of horse, 329;

of deer, 334;

of bat, 341;

of seal, 341-6;

of hare, 338-40;

of rats, 340;

of mice, 341;

of beaver, 367;

of elephant, 387-92;

of cat, 411, 412;

of dog, 437, 440, 441;

of monkeys, 471-5 and 484-98

Agassiz, Professor A., on instinct of hermit-crab, 232;

nest of fish, 242-3;

on beaver-dams, 384, 385

Agassiz, Professor L., on intelligence of snails, 26

Alison, Professor, on curious instinct of polecat, 347

Allen, J. A., on breeding habits of pinniped seals, 341-6

Alligators, 256-8 and 263

_Alopecias vulpes_, 252

_Amoeba_, apparent intelligence of, 21

Anemones, sea, 233, 234

Anger, of ants and bees, _see_ under;

of fish, 246, 247;

of monkeys, 478, 479 and 484-96

Angler-fish, 247, 248

_Annelida_, apparent intelligence of, 24

Antennæ, effects of removal in ants, 142;

in bees, 197

Antithesis, principle of, in expression of emotions by

monkeys, 494, 495

Ant-lion, 234, 235

Ants, powers of special sense, 31-37;

of sight, 31-33;

of hearing, 33;

of smell, 33-37;

sense of direction, 37, 38;

memory, 39-45;

recognition of companions and nest-mates, 41-45;

emotions, 45-49;

affection, 45-48;

sympathy, 48, 49;

communication, 49-57;

habits general in sundry species, 57-93;

swarming, 57, 58;

nursing, 58, 59;

education, 59, 60;

keeping aphides, 60-64;

making slaves, 64-68;

wars, 68-83;

keeping domestic pets, 83, 84;

sleep and cleanliness, 84-7;

play and leisure, 87-89;

funeral habits, 89-93;

habits peculiar to certain species, 93-122;

leaf-cutting, 93-96;

harvesting, 96-110;

African, 110, 111;

tree, 110, 111;

honey making, 111-114 and 142;

ecitons, or military, 114-122;

general intelligence, 122-142;

Sir John Lubbock's experiments on intelligence, 123-128;

intelligence displayed in architecture, 128-130;

in using burrows made by elater larvæ, 130;

in artificial hives, 130;

in removing nest from shadow of tree, 131;

in cutting leaves off overshadowing tree, 131, 132;

in bending blades of grass while cutting them, 132, 133;

in co-operating to glue leaves together, 133, 134;

in getting at food in difficult places, 134, 135;

in making bridges, &c., 135-139;

in tunnelling under rails, 140;

anatomy and physiology of nerve-centres and sense organs, 140-2

Apes, _see_ Monkeys

_Arachnidæ_, 204-225, _see_ Spiders and Scorpions

Arago, his observation regarding sense of justice in dog, 443

Arderon, on taming a dace, 246

_Argyroneta aquatica_, 212

Arn, Capt., on sword- and thresher-fish, 252, 253

_Articulata_, _see_ under divisions of

Ass, general intelligence of, 328 and 333

Association of ideas, _see_ under various animals

_Ateuchus pilularius_, 226

_Athealium_, apparent intelligence of, 19-20

Atkinson, the Rev. J. C., on reasoning power of a dog, 458, 459

Audubon, on ants making beasts of burden of bugs, 68;

plundering instincts of white-headed eagle, 284;

variations in instinct of incubation, 299, 300

Auk, nidification of, 292

Automatism, hypothesis of animal, 6

BABOON, sympathy shown by Arabian, 474;

rage of, 478;

revenge of, 478

Badcock, on dog making peace-offerings, 452

Baer, Van, on organisation of bee, 241

Backhouse, R. O., on dog being alarmed at a statue, 453

Bailey, Professor W. W., on dog stopping a runaway horse, 459

Baines, A. H., on dog communicating wants by signs, 446, 447

Baker, on sticklebacks, 245

Baldamus, Dr., on cuckoo laying eggs coloured in imitation of

those of the birds in whose nests they lay them, 307

Ball, Dr. Robert, on commensalism of crab and anemone, 234

Banks, Sir Joseph, on intelligence of tree-ants, 133;

fish coming to sound of bell, 250

Bannister, Dr., on cat trying to catch image behind mirror, 415, 416;

on intelligence of the Eskimo dogs, 461, 462

Barrett, W. F., on instincts of young alligator, 256

Barton, Dr., on alleged fascination by snakes, 264

Bastian, on termites, 198

Bates, on ants' habit of keeping pets, 84;

cleaning one another, 87;

play and leisure, 88, 89;

leaf-cutting, 93-95;

tunnelling, 99;

ecitons, 114-21;

on sand-wasp taking bearings to remember precise locality, 150;

mygale eating humming-birds, 208;

on nidification of small crustacean, 232, 233;

habits of turtles, and alligators, 257, 258;

intelligence of vultures, 314;

bats sucking blood, 341

Batrachians, 254, 255

Bats, 341

Baya-bird, nidification of, 294

Bears, 350-352

Beattie, Dr., on dog communicating desires by signs, 447

Beaver, 367-85;

breeding habits, 367, 368;

lodges, 368-73;

dams, 373-79;

canals, 379-83;

general remarks upon, 368, 377, 379, 383;

age of their buildings, 384;

effects of their buildings on the configuration of

landscapes, 384, 385

Bechstein, on birds dreaming, 312

Bee, mason, 178, 179;

tapestry, 179;

carpenter, 179;

rose, 179;

carding, 179, 180

Bees, sense of sight, 143, 144;

of smell and hearing, 144;

of direction, 144-51;

remembering exact locality of absent hive, 148-49;

following floating hives, 149;

memory, 151-55;

sympathy, 155, 156;

distances over which they forage, 150;

powers of communication, 156-60;

economy of hive, 160-8;

food and rearing, 160-163;

swarming and battles of queens, 163, 164;

drone-killing, 164-68;

plunder and wars, 168-170;

architecture, 170-8;

way-finding, 181, 182;

instinct of neuters, 181;

recognising companions, 183, 184;

barricading doors against moths, 184, 185;

strengthening combs in danger of falling, 185, 186;

mode of dealing with surfaces of glass, 186;

with strange hives, 186, 187;

evacuating fallen hive, 187;

ceasing to store honey in Barbadoes and California, 187, 188;

recognising persons, 188, 189;

biting holes in corollas, 189;

ventilating hives, 191, 192;

covering slugs, &c., with propolis, 190, 191;

effects of removing antennæ, 197

Beetles, _see_ _Coleoptera_

Belshaw, on cat knocking knockers, 422

Belt, on ants, duration of memory in, 39, 40;

sympathy, 48;

division of labour, 99;

ecitons, 114-19 and 138;

tunnelling under rails, 140;

on sand-wasp taking precise bearings to remember

locality, 150, 151;

struggle between wasps and ants for secretion of

frog-hoppers, 194, 195;

intelligence of spiders in protecting themselves

from ecitons, 219, 220;

beetles undermining stick supporting a dead toad, 228;

intelligence of monkeys, 480

Benedictson, on navigating habits of Iceland mice, 364, 365

Bennet, on birds dreaming, 312

Bennett, on conjugal fidelity of duck, 270, 271

Berkeley, G., on beetle storing its food, 228, 229

Bettziech-Beta, on termites, 199

Bidie, on suicide of scorpion, 222, 223;

on reasoning power of cat, 415

Bingley, on intelligence of ants, 133;

carpenter-bees, 179;

account of alleged training of bees, 189;

co-operation of beetles, 226, 227;

ant-lion, 230, 235;

domestication of toad, 255;

fascination by snakes, 264;

sympathy in birds, 272;

eccentricity of nest building instinct, 295;

education of birds, 312;

pigs pointing game, 339, 340;

intelligence of otter, 346;

memory of elephant, 387;

vindictiveness of elephant, 387, 389;

elephants enduring surgical operations, 399, 400

Bird, Miss, on combined action of crows in obtaining food

from dogs, 320

Birds, 266-325;

memory of, 266-70;

emotions, 270-82;

special habits of procuring food, 283-6;

of incubation and taking care of offspring, 287-310;

general intelligence, 310-25;

dreaming and imagination, 311-12;

learning to avoid telegraph wires, 313;

recognising painting of birds, 311;

submitting to surgical operation, 313-14;

honey-guide, 315-16;

appreciation of mechanical appliances, 315-16;

concerted action, 318-322

_Birgus latro_, 233

Bison, 334-5

Blackbirds, breaking shells against stones, 283;

removing eggs, 289;

mobbing cat, 291

Blackburn, Professor H., on distances over which bees forage, 150

Blackman, on cats learning to beg for food, 414-15

Blackwall, on early display of instincts by spiders, 216

Blanchard, on mason-bee, 178

Blood, on reasoning power of a dog, 464

Boa-constrictor, really a Python, which _see_

Bodley, W. H., on dogs crossing a river to fight undisturbed, 451-2

Bold, on canary singing against own image in mirror, 276

Bombyx moth, larva of, 238-40

Bonnet, on spider following her eggs into pit of ant-lion, 205;

his experiments on instincts of caterpillars, 236;

observations on ditto, 238

Boobies, plundered by frigate pelicans, 284

Bosc, on migrating fish, 248

Bower-bird, instincts of, 279-81, 325

Bowman, Parker, his cat opening swivel of window, 425

Boys, C. V., his experiments with a tuning-fork on spiders, 206, 207

Brehm, on wasps recognising persons, 188;

intelligence of lapwing, 315, 316;

curiosity of monkeys, 477

Broderip, on vindictiveness of elephant, 389

Brodie, Sir B., his definition of instinct, 15;

on bees strengthening their combs, 185, 186

Brofft, Herr L., on powers of communication in bees, 160

Brougham, Lord, on hexagonal form of bees' cells, 172;

on intelligence of a dog, 450

Brown, Capt., on vindictiveness of a stork, 277-8

Brown, W., on a cat extinguishing fire by water, 425

Browne, Dr. Crichton, on cat ringing bell, 423

Browne, Murray, on fox allowing itself to be extricated from

trap, 431

Browning, A. H., on intelligence of a dog, 450

Brydon, Dr., on collective instinct of jackals, 434

Buchanan, Dr., on climbing perch, 249;

on nidification of baya-bird, 294

Büchner, Professor,

on ants:

nursing habits, 59;

stocking trees with aphides, 63;

warfare, 71-9;

play, 87-88;

leaf cutting, 95-96;

intelligence in making a bridge of aphides over tar, 136;

of themselves over a space, 136-37;

and of a straw over water, 137;

ecitons, 139;

anatomy and physiology of brain, 141-42.

On bees and wasps:

powers of communication, 158-60;

swarming habits, 168;

wars and plunder, 169;

cell-building, 177-78;

evacuating dangerous hive, 187;

keeping hives clean, 190;

carrying dead from hive and burying them, 191;

ventilating hives, 191-92;

hornet and wasp dismembering heavy prey, and carrying it to

an eminence in order to fly away with it, 196.

On termites, 198-202.

On spiders:

web-building, 211-12;

wolf spider, 213;

trap-door spiders, 217-18;

intelligence of a spider habitually fed by Dr. Moschkau, 218-19;

spiders weighting their webs, 221.

On beetles:

co-operation of, 227-28

Buck, E. C., on intelligence of crocodiles, 263;

on collective instinct of wolves, 433;

on combined action of pelicans, 319

Buckland, F., on pigeon remembering voice of mistress, 266;

crows breaking shells by dropping them on stones, 283;

birds avoiding telegraph wires, 313

Buckley, on harvesting ants, 103

Buckton, G. B., on caterpillars, 236

Buffalo, 335-37

Buffon, on hexagonal form of bees' cells, 171-72;

association of ideas in parrot, 269;

sympathy in ditto, 275;

goat sucker removing eggs, 289

_Bufo obstetricans_, 254

Bull, intelligence of, 338

Burmeister, on powers of communication in ants, 49

Byron, Lord, lines on alleged tendency to scorpion to commit

suicide, 222

CADDIS-WORMS, 240

Cairns, Mr. W., on reasoning power of a dog, 461

Campbell, Mrs. G. M. F., on intelligence of goose, 316

Canary, jealousy of, 276;

modification of incubating instinct in cage, 287;

flying against mirror, 311;

trained, 312

Canning, J., his dog knowing value of different coins, 452-3

_Carassius auratus_, 246

Carbonnier, M., on telescope-fish, 246

Carlisle, Bishop of, on congregation or court held by jackdaws, 324

Carpenter, Dr., on intelligence of rats, 361

Carreri, Gernelli, on monkeys thrusting stones between

oyster-shells to keep them from closing, 481

Carter, H. J., on apparent intelligence of _athealium_, 19;

of _actinophrys_ and _amoeba_, 20-1

Carus, Professor, on spiders weighting their webs, 221

Cat, the, 411-25;

general remarks upon, 411-14;

emotions of, 412-13;

general intelligence of, 413-25;

showing zoological discrimination, 414;

punishing kittens for misbehaviour, 414;

begging for food, 414-15;

feeding kittens on bread when milk fails, 415;

carrying kittens to be protected by master, 415;

trying to catch image behind mirror, 416;

communicating by signs, 419;

devices for catching prey, 417-20;

appreciation of mechanical appliances, 420-25;

extinguishing fire by water, 425

Caterpillars, instinct of assisted by intelligence, 236-8;

migrating, 238-40

Catesby, on co-operation of beetles, 226, 227;

on frigate-pelican plundering boobies, 284

Cattle, fear exhibited by in slaughterhouses, 334;

pride of, 334

_Cebus fatuellus_, observations on intelligence of, 484-98

Cecil, H., on tactics displayed by hunting wasps, 194

_Cephalopoda_, intelligence of, 29-30

_Cetacea_, 327-28

Challenge, mode of, in gulls, 291

Charming of snakes, 264

_Cheiroptera_, 341

_Chelmon rostratus_, 248

Chimpanzee, play of, 476-77

Chinese swallow, nidification of, 292

_Chironectes_, 243

Choice, as evidence of mind, 2

Clark, G., on intelligence of a bat, 341

Clark, Rev. H., on harvesting ants, 99;

on dog recognising portrait, 454-5

Clarville, on co-operation of beetles, 228

Clavigero, on sympathy of pelicans for wounded companions, 275

Claypole, on intelligence of horse, 331-2

_Cnethocampii pitzocampa_, 244

Cobra, sexual affection of, 256;

charming, 265;

intelligence of, 262

Cock, domestic, killing hen upon hatching out eggs of other

birds, 278

_Coelenterata_, movements of, and question concerning their

intelligence, 22

_Coleoptera_, 226-9;

co-operation of, 226-8;

other instances of intelligence, 228-9

Colquhoun, on reasoning power of a dog, 463-4

Commensalism, between crab and anemone, and between mollusk

and anemone, 233

Communication, _see_ Co-operation

Concerted action, _see_ Co-operation

Cones, Captain Elliot, on intelligence of wolverine, 348-50

_Conilurus constructor_, 326

Conklin, W. A., on elephants thatching their backs, 409

Consciousness, as evidence of mind, 2;

gradual dawn of, 13

Conte, John Le, on reasoning power of a dog, 460-1

Cook, Capt., on tree ants, 111;

intelligence of tree-ants, 133

Cook, George, on dog dragging mat about to lie upon, 466

Co-operation,

of ants, 48-49, 51-59, 64 _et seq._

(in making slaves and waging war), 85-96;

(in sundry occupations), 96-100;

(in harvesting), 108-10, 111-14;

(of apparently different species), 114-122;

(of military ants), 127-30, 132-4, 136-40;

of bees, 159-74;

(in general work, wars, and architecture), 177, 178, 184-6,

190-2;

of termites, 198-203;

of beetles, 226-8; of birds, 318-22;

of horses and asses, 333;

of bison and buffalo, 335;

of pigs, 339;

of rats, 361, 362;

of mice, 364;

of beavers, 367-83;

of elephants, 401;

of foxes, 433;

of wolves, 433 and 436;

of jackals, 432-5;

of baboons, 483

Corse, on memory of elephant, 386, 387;

emotions of elephant, 393

Couch, on maternal instinct of hen, 272;

mode in which guillemots catch fish, 285;

mode of escape practised by swan, 290;

birds removing dung from neighbourhood of their nests, 290;

blackbirds mobbing cat, 291;

nidification of swan, 296-8;

crows punishing offenders, 323-4;

intelligence of hare, 359;

cat unlocking door, 424;

fox avoiding trap, 428;

catching crabs with tail, 432;

mode by which a dog killed crabs, 459

_Corvus cornice_, punishing offenders, 323, 324

Cowper, on intelligence of hare, 359, 360

Cox, C., playhouses of bower-birds presented by him to Sydney

Museum, 280

Crabs, 231-4

Craven, on intelligence of a sow, 340

Crehore, on foxes avoiding traps, 428, 429;

on dog recognising portrait, 453

Cripps, his elephant dying under emotional disturbance, 396

Criterion of mind, 4-8

Crocodiles, 263

Crow, Capt. Hugh, on sympathy shown by monkeys for sick

companion, 473, 474

Crows, memory of, 266;

breaking shells by dropping them on the stones, 283;

punishing offenders, 323-5

Cruelty, of cat, 413

Crustacea, 231-34

Cuckoo, parasitic instincts of, 301-7;

eggs of coloured like those of the bird in whose nest they

are laid, 307-9;

American, 305, 306

Curiosity, of fish, 247;

of birds, 278, 279;

of ruminants and swine, 335;

of monkeys, 477

Curlew, nidification of, 292

Cuvier, his orang drawing chair to stand upon to reach a latch, 481;

on birds dreaming, 312

DACE, tamed, 246

Daldorff, on climbing perch, 248, 249

Dampier, on frigate-pelicans plundering boobies, 284;

on monkeys hammering oyster shells with stones, 481

_Daphnia pulex_, seeking light, especially yellow ray, 23

Darwin, Charles, on apparent intelligence of worms, 24;

of oyster, 25;

of snail, 27;

Mr. Hague's letter to, on powers of communication in ants, 54-7;

observations on ants keeping aphides, 60, 61;

on ants making slaves, 64, 66, 67;

communications of Lincecum to, on harvesting ants, 103, 107;

on proportional size of ants' brain, 140;

communication of Müller on powers of communication in bees, 157;

origin and development of cell-making instinct, 173-7;

instincts of neuters, 181;

quotation in MS. from Sir B. Brodie on bees supporting their

combs, 185-6;

his 'law of battle' in relation to spiders, 205;

intelligence of crab, 233;

his theory of sexual selection, 279-82;

sense of smell in vultures, 286;

on Wallace's theory of correlation between colour of sitting

birds and form of their nests, 299;

instincts of cuckoo, 304-6;

birds dreaming, 312;

Gauchos taming wild horses, 329;

memory of horse, 330;

intelligence of bear, 352;

of elephant, 398, 402;

collective instinct of wolves, 436;

duration of memory in dogs, 438;

intelligence of Eskimo dogs, 462;

reasoning of retriever, 463-4;

maternal care and grief of monkey, 472;

sense of ludicrous in monkeys, 476;

curiosity and imitativeness of monkeys, 477;

imitativeness of man, 477-8;

intelligent observation displayed by monkeys, 479, 480

Darwin, Erasmus, on bees ceasing to store honey in Barbadoes, 187;

wasp dismembering fly to facilitate carriage, 195;

unmoulted crab guarding moulted, 233;

crows breaking shells by dropping them on stones, 283;

bird shaking seed out of poppy, 286;

elephant acting nurse to young child, 408

Darwin, F., on bees biting holes through corollas, 189

Davis, on instincts of larvæ of bombyx moth, 239

Davy, Dr., on instincts of alligators, 256, 257;

taming cobra, 265;

performing operation on elephants, 400

Davy, Sir H., on eagles teaching young to fly, 290

Day, F., on intelligence of fish, 244-52

Deceitfulness, of elephant 410;

of dog, 443, 444, 450-52, 457, 458;

of monkey, 494

Deer, intelligence of, 336, 338, 339

De Fravière, on powers of communication in bees, 158;

their scouts, 168

Descartes, his hypothesis of animal automatism, 6

Dicquemase, on intelligence of oyster, 25

Dipterous insects, intelligence in finding way out of

a bell-jar, 153, 154;

gad-fly, 230;

house-fly, 230, 231

Division of labour, _see_ Co-operation