Race: Scottish.
Height: 5 feet 11 inches.
Weight: 11 stone.
Hair: Dark.
Eyes: Blue.
Nose: Aquiline.
Age: 27 years.
I shall be happy to furnish any further information which the
Society may require.
I am, Sir,
Your obedient Servant,
JOHN CROMARTIE.
When he had gone out and posted this letter Mr. Cromartie felt at peace,
and he prepared for the reply with much less anxiety than most young men
would have felt in such a situation.
It would be tedious to describe at any length how this letter was
received by a deputy in the absence of the secretary, and how it was by
him communicated to the working committee on the following Wednesday. It
may, however, be of interest to note that Mr. Cromartie’s offer would in
all probability have been rejected had it not been for Mr. Wollop. He
was a gentleman of advanced years who was not popular with his fellow
members. Mr. Cromartie’s letter, for some reason, threw him into a
paroxysm of rage.
This was a deliberate insult, he declared. This was no laughing matter.
It was a matter which must and should and should and must, without
question, be wiped out by legal proceedings. It would expose the Society
to ridicule if they took it lying down. This and much more in the same
strain gave the rest of the committee time to turn the thing over in
their minds.
One or two first took the opposite view from Mr. Wollop from mere habit;
the Chairman observed that the presence of such an interesting
correspondent as Mr. Cromartie could not fail to be a great attraction
and would increase the gate-money; it was not, however, until Mr. Wollop
threatened to resign that the thing was done.
Mr. Wollop withdrew, and a letter was drafted to Cromartie informing him
that the committee were inclined to accept his proposal, and asking for
a personal interview.
This interview took place the following Saturday, by which time the
committee had become convinced that a specimen of _Homo sapiens_ ought
certainly to be acquired, though it was not convinced that Mr. Cromartie
was the right man, and Mr. Wollop had retired to Wollop Bottom, his
rustic seat.
The personal interview was entirely satisfactory to both sides, and Mr.
Cromartie’s reservations were accepted without demur. These dealt with
food and drink, clothing, medical attention, and one or two luxuries
which he was to receive. Thus he was to be allowed to order his own
meals, see his own tailor, be visited by his own doctor, dentist, and
legal advisers. He was to be allowed to administer his own income, which
amounted to about £300 a year, neither was objection to be raised to his
having a library in his cage, and writing materials.
The Zoological Society on their side stipulated that he should not
contribute to the daily or weekly press; that he should not entertain
visitors while the Gardens were open to the public; and that he should
be subject to the usual discipline, as though he were one of the
ordinary creatures.
A few days served to prepare the cage for his reception. It was in the
Ape-house, behind which a larger room was furnished for his bedroom,
with a bath and lavatory fixed behind a wooden partition. He was
admitted on the following Sunday afternoon, and introduced to his keeper
Collins, who also looked after the Orang-outang, the Gibbon, and the
Chimpanzee.
Collins shook hands and said that he would do all he could to make him
comfortable, but it was obvious that he was embarrassed, and strangely
enough this embarrassment did not diminish as time went on. His
relations with Cromartie always remained formal, and were characterised
by the most absolute politeness, which, needless to say, Cromartie
scrupulously returned.
The cage had been thoroughly cleansed and disinfected, a plain carpet
had been laid down, and it was furnished with a table where Cromartie
had his meals, an upright chair, an armchair, and at the back of the
cage a bookcase. Nothing but the wire-netting front and sides separating
him from the Chimpanzee on one side, and the Orang-outang on the other,
distinguished it from a gentleman’s study. Greater magnificence
characterised the furniture of his bedroom, where he found that he had
been provided with every possible comfort. A French bed, a wardrobe, a
cheval glass, a dressing-table with mirrors in gilt and satinwood,
combined to make him feel at home.
John Cromartie employed Sunday evening in unpacking his belongings,
including his books, as he wished to appear an established institution
by the time visitors arrived on the Monday. For this purpose he was
given an oil lamp, as the electric wiring had not been completed for the
cage.
When he had been busy for a short time he looked about and found
something very strange in his situation. In the dimly-lit cage on his
right the Chimpanzee moved uneasily; on the other side he could not see
the Orang-outang, which must have been hiding in some corner. Outside,
the passage was in darkness. He was locked in. At intervals he could
hear the cries of different beasts, though he could rarely tell which it
was from the cry. Several times he made out the howl of a wolf, and once
the roar of a lion. Later the screaming and howling of wild animals
became louder and almost incessant.
Long after he had arranged all his books in the shelves and had gone to
bed, he lay awake listening to the strange noises. The clamour died
away, but he lay waiting for the occasional laugh of the hyæna or the
roar of the hippopotamus.
In the morning he was woken early by Collins, who came to ask him what
he would have for breakfast and during the day, and added that workmen
had come to fix a board at the front of his cage. Cromartie asked if he
might see it, and Collins brought it in.