hundreds included in several genera and species, there are none that
deserve more consideration than the Capuchin Monkeys. They are active,
little animals, lively and playful. So similar are all the species
in general habits, that a description of one will equally serve for
any other. Their youthfulness and sportive manners make them very
desirable companions, and hence we frequently find them domesticated
by the native Indians and European settlers. Like other small monkeys,
the Capuchin often strikes up a friendship for other animals that may
happen to live in or near its home, the cat being one of the most
favored of its allies. It is sometimes the case this familiarity is
carried so far that the cat is turned into a horse by the monkey, who,
seated upon her back, perambulates the premises. More unpromising
subjects, we are told, have been pressed into similar service. Humboldt
cites the case of one that was accustomed to catch a pig every morning,
and, mounted upon its back, was known to retain its seat during the
entire day. Even when the pig was feeding in the savannas its rider
remained firm, and bestrode the animal with as much pertinacity as one
skilled in equestrianism would the most rampant steed.
No little difficulty is experienced in settling the species of
the Capuchins, for their fur is rather variable in tint, and some
individuals differing so greatly as to cause them to look like another
species. The general color of the Capuchin--_Cebus apella_--is a golden
olive, a white fur bordering the face in some, though not in all
individuals. _Cebus fatuellus_, commonly called the Horned Sapajou or
Capuchin, is much more conspicuous than the last, as the erect fringe
of hair that projects so prominently from the forehead indicates it
at once: hence from the front, the hair assumes the appearance of two
tufts or horns, from which peculiarity the animal derives its name.
These horns are not completely developed until the monkey has attained
maturity. There is also a manifest difference in color of hair, the
Sapajou having a constant tinge of red in its fur. It is usually of a
deep brown color, but in some individuals there is a marked resemblance
to that peculiar purple-black which is obtainable by diluting common
black ink with water, while in others the ruddy hue is so pronounced as
to impart a chestnut tint to the animal’s hair. The fringed crest is
tipped with gray.
Perhaps no more interesting form of the Capuchins exists than the
Weeper Monkey, or Sai, or, as it is called in the books, _Cebus
capucinus_. As in the case of the two preceding species, it is an
inhabitant of Venezuela and Brazil, and as lively as any of its
congeners. Like its brethren, its tail is invested with a dense growth
of hair, but this does not interfere with its prehensile powers. The
Sai is possessed of a large amount of intelligence, and its quaint
little ways make it a great favorite with those who delight to watch
its quick and agile movements. While things of a vegetable character
constitute the chief part of its food, yet it manifests a fondness for
various kinds of insects, and is sometimes known to ascend to higher
prey, for it has been observed to feed upon birds, which it devours
with avidity, not even waiting to pluck off the feathers. Eggs are also
thought to form a no inconsiderable part of this Capuchin’s diet.
Some few years ago, Prof. Cope had in his possession a tame Sai, which
was kept in a cage, or, rather, was supposed to be kept in it, for the
animal had a strong aversion to confinement, and was sure to break
loose therefrom sooner or later. When in durance vile, and wishing to
break prison, he always directed his attention to the hinges, and no
matter how firmly they were fixed, he was sure before long to extract
the staples, pull out the nails, and so open the door at the hinges,
and not at the latch.
Finding that the cage could not hold him, his master had him confined
by a strap fastened around the waist, after the fashion of monkeys.
The strap, however, proved to be of no more use than the cage, for the
crafty animal soon contrived to open it, and this he did by ingeniously
picking out the threads by which the strap was sewn to the buckle, and
so rendering the fastenings useless.
Again he was confined to the cage and carefully watched. Having rid
himself of the strap, he began to consider how he might apply it to
some useful purpose. So, having perceived that some food had fallen
beyond his reach, he took one end of the strap in his paw, flung the
other over the morsel of food, and so drew it toward him. In this feat
he displayed great accuracy of aim, seldom missing the object which he
desired. Once or twice, when he had to make a longer throw than usual,
he loosened his hold of the strap. The first time that this happened,
some one handed him the poker. He took it, drew the strap toward him,
and resumed its use as before.
No intelligent person can deny that these acts were prompted by reason.
So far from even being aided by instinct, the animal was certainly
acting in direct opposition to it. The instinct of an animal when
confined or tethered in any way is to break loose by main strength, and
the instinct of the monkey would have impelled him to force his way
through the bars of the cage or to strain at the strap until he had
broken it in two. But it was his reason that taught him to look for the
weak part in both cage and strap, and, having found it, to devote his
energies to that part until he had succeeded in his object.
[Illustration: JACK AT DINNER.
Showing His Use of Table Implements.]
Was it possible for instinct to teach him that the hinges were the weak
part of his cage, and that, if he could only remove the staples or
nails, the door would open and he would be free? Could instinct teach
him that the stitches of the strap-buckle were to the strap what the
staples and nails were to the hinges, and that if he could but pick
out the threads, the fastenings of the strap would be rendered of no
effect? Neither could instinct teach him to use the strap after the
manner of a lasso, nor to employ the poker in regaining his lost weapon.
Not only did he thus show his ability to deal with the obstacles
that stood in the way of his freedom, and without even the slightest
suggestion from the mind of his master, but he also gave evidence that
he had the capacity to profit by many of the civilities by which he
found himself surrounded in the life in which he was placed. Monkeys
are remarkable for their power of imitation, and Jack, as this Capuchin
was called, proved himself to be no ordinary fellow in this respect.
He had seen his master eat out of a dish, using knife, fork and spoon
when occasion demanded, and nothing would do but an abandonment of his
old habits--the using of his fingers, which his ancestors were wont
to do--and the assumption of civilized practices. In time he became
quite skilful in the use of these table implements and showed greater
dexterity in handling them than many a man has shown. Accustomed to
their use, he would never have things any other way. The writer has
repeatedly been present when he was taking his meals. Seated upon the
ground, his head and body slightly bent forward, with his plate of
food before him, the ground serving him as a table, Jack would help
himself in a quiet, cool and deliberate manner, all the while evincing
in movement and look an air of the most consequential importance. To
say that he was proud of the success which he had achieved in the
correct use of table implements but tamely expresses the feeling which
would dominate his bosom at such times. No human individual who had
accomplished some wonderful discovery or striking feat at arms that had
caused the earth to resound with his praises, could have felt more of
the emotion than Jack. Indeed, it was a remarkable feat for Jack, and
he had a right to feel vain over its accomplishment. All the while he
was eating he would chatter in his uncouth guttural tongue, as though
he had learned, like his human brethren, that conversation gave relish
to a meal and was a powerful aid to digestion.
While Jack was a very useful fellow to have about, especially where
cats without owners abounded, for he was a terror upon these feline
nuisances, yet he had a few faults which detracted very much from his
otherwise good character. Like some boys, he was addicted to the habit
of throwing stones, but I am more than half disposed to believe that
this was an acquired propensity, which he had learned by seeing his
master engaged in a similar diversion, or perhaps, which is not at
all unlikely, he had been trained to such exercise and pastime by his
master. Well, he could throw stones with considerable force, and with
as much precision as any well-trained lad of fourteen summers could
do. Let the master but give him a stone, and say, “Now, Jack, hit that
fellow,” and Jack needed no second telling. Throwing his right arm
back, just as a boy would do, in order to give the necessary impetus
to the missile, he would send the stone flying in the right direction.
It required no little skill and celerity of movement to dodge the
projectile, as the writer had more than once learned by painful
experience, for Jack’s wonderful and well-directed aim seldom went
astray of its purpose.
Towards his master Jack showed great deference and attention, and was
ever ready to obey his slightest wish. No one’s society he enjoyed
better. It was always a pleasure to be near him, but strangers he
seemed to despise and treat as enemies. He would always eye them with
a suspicious look, and could never tolerate their presence for any
considerable length of time without giving vent to his annoyance by the
most angry vociferations and hideous grimaces. Should this not have the
effect of causing them to retire, he would emphasize his objection to
their presence by pelting them with stones and such other missiles as
were convenient to hand. That he had a considerable affection for his
master, and respected him, no stronger evidence could be given than
what has already been adduced.
After all that has been said concerning Jack, yet the world is full of
people, educated and intelligent as they consider themselves to be, who
cannot see that this bit of flesh and spirit has been endowed by the
same wise Creator with the same traits of character, but differing in
degree, that they themselves possess. Going back to the ingenuity which
Jack displayed in the cases of the cage and the strap referred to, it
may be said to his credit that even Baron Trench himself could not have
shown greater skill in the discovery of the weak parts of his prison
and bonds than did this so-called brute, nor could he have exhibited
more patience and perseverance in working at them. Indeed, there are
many human beings that would not have been half so sensible as Jack,
but still we must believe that such high intelligence, comparatively
speaking, must inevitably perish with the body, through which as
a vehicle it was made to manifest itself. All intelligence is an
emanation from the Divine Intelligence, and, when the life has gone out
of the body from which it was made to shine forth, then it, instead of
perishing with the material, returns to the Source of all intelligence,
not to be re-absorbed, but, as I think, to continue as a separate
intelligence, drawing its life and light from the great Central Head,
like as the planets derive theirs from the centre of our material
universe--the Sun.
UNTUTORED MAN.
Strange and unique as are the plants and animals of Australia, yet
nothing definite can be affirmed of its native human inhabitants. They
are a peculiar people, separated by a wide remove from the Papuans,
the Malays and the Negro. Of a dark, coffee-brown complexion, rather
than actually black, the Australian is but little inferior to the
average European in height, but is altogether of a much slimmer and
feebler build, his limbs, particularly, being very lean and destitute
of calves, a defect which is a peculiarity of the darker races of man.
His head is long and narrow, dolichocephalic in type, with a low brow,
prominent just above the orbital regions, but receding thence in a very
marked degree. The nose, proceeding from a comparatively narrow base,
broadens outwardly to a somewhat squat end, the eyes on each side of
its attenuated root appearing drawn together. His face bulges into high
cheek bones; his mouth is large and grotesque, the jaw-bone contracted,
the upper jaw projecting over the lower, but with fine, white teeth;
the chin cut away, and his ears slightly pricked forward. Not only the
head and face, but the entire body as well, is covered with a profusion
of hair, which, when freed of its enclogging dirt and oil, is soft and
glossy. Like most savage peoples, the effluvium of his skin, offensive
as it naturally is, is very much exaggerated by the fish-oil he uses in
the anointment of his person.
Almost exclusively directed on the means of procuring sustenance, the
intellect of the Australian operates wholly within the range of the
rudest bodily senses. But inside that simple, elementary sphere he
displays no little nimbleness and dexterity. In tracking and running
down his prey he is unsurpassed. His weapons, though of the most
primitive forms, are well adapted for the purposes of the chase. Rude
and uncouth as his culinary and domestic apparatus appear, yet they
serve equally well the objects for which they were designed. Some
imitative facility, or rude sense of elementary art, is possessed
by him, as is evidenced by the crude figures of sharks, lizards and
other animals that may be seen carved in caves in the north-east of
Australia, and on the rocks of New South Wales. That he has some
exuberance of rude sense is still further shown in his language, which,
within its very circumscribed sensuous sphere, is fairly expressive and
complete, and likewise in the ease with which he learns to chatter the
languages of peoples with whom he has been thrown into contact.
Outside the circle described, all is blank to the Australian. He has no
architecture, no pottery and almost no weaving, and may be said to have
no religion. His sensations may scarcely, if at all, be said to have
attained the dignity of sentiments, much less that of sentimentalities.
The man domineers over the woman, who is as much his property as his
boomerang or dingo. Male offspring are held in considerable estimation,
and a father will bewail the death of a son for months, and even for
years. Old men and old, infirm women, on the other hand, are cruelly
abandoned, and left to starve to death, for they are considered
worthless and a burden, and consumers of the food that should go to the
support of the young and physically strong. During the summer they roam
about naked, utterly strangers to shame, which seems not to be innate
to their natures. Wives are accounted an item in a man’s chattels,
the stealing of which being met with some definite punishment. Caves,
where they abound, afford shelter and security for some of the tribes,
but where these are not found, screens of twigs and bushes covered
with leaves or turf, or logs of wood and turf, serve for protection
and cover for a few days or weeks, till the pursuit of food calls them
elsewhere.
[Illustration: AUSTRALIAN AT HOME.
Returned from the Chase with Kangaroo.]
Thrift is unknown to the Australian. His life alternates between
satiety and semi-starvation. In summer he goes naked, but in winter
he wraps himself in kangaroo skins. A girdle of hair bound about his
loins holds his dowak, as his digging-stick is called, and an apron of
skins suspended from the girdle affords a protection from shrubs. His
food consists largely of animals, which he devours alive, and includes
lizards, snakes, the heads being rejected, frogs, white ants, larvæ and
moths. Other animals are roasted, showing that the Australian knows,
contrary to an opinion that once prevailed, the method of kindling a
fire. In seasons of dearth, when there is a paucity of food-material,
cannibalism is general. He then makes an attack upon a neighboring
tribe who is his enemy, and if he cannot obtain food in this manner,
he scruples not to fall back upon his wife and his children. One
obligation of the wife is to keep her husband supplied with vegetable
food, such as the roots of the wild yam, seeds of the acacia, sophoræ,
leaves of the grass-tree, etc. Failing to produce a sufficiency, she is
liberally treated with maulings and spearings, so that a wife generally
appears bruised and gashed all over her body.
Among the different tribes of Australians, the boomerang is the
principal weapon. This is a flat stick, three feet in length, and
curves at the centre. It is thrown into the air among birds, jerks in a
zigzag, spiral or circular fashion, and when thrown by a person skilled
in its use is sure to bring down a few individuals at every throwing.
Besides this weapon they have the throwing-stick, flint-pointed spears,
shields, stone-hatchets, digging-sticks, netting-needles, nets of
sinews, fibres or hairs, water-skins and canoes.
No government exists among this people outside that of the family, and
no laws except certain traditionary rules about property. As for their
religion, they have little save their terror of ghosts and demons,
and certain superstitious traditional rites applicable to epochs in a
man’s life, but more especially so at the time of his burial. At ten
years of age, a boy is covered with blood; at ten to fourteen, he is
circumcised in the north and south of Australia, but not in the west or
on the Murray River; and at twenty, he is tattooed or scarred. Felicity
after death is the reward of proper burial, but a man dying in battle
or rotting in a field becomes an evil genius.
No more perfect example of tribal organization exists than that of
the tribes of Australasia. In a very large proportion of existing
tribes, the tribe is an aggregate of several stocks or distinct
bodies of kindred, the persons composing the tribes being included
in stocks which are, or are accounted, distinct from each other. Two
tribal customs, namely, the prohibition of marriage between persons
of the same stock, and the reckoning of kinship through females only,
so that children are accounted of the stock of their mother, sustain
this organization. Persons of the same stock, too, owe duties to each
other, and are to some extent participants in each other’s liabilities.
An injury done by a man is an injury done by his stock, which may be
avenged upon any member thereof; or an injury done to a man is an
injury done by his stock, for which every member of it is bound to
seek vengeance. As a consequence of these customs, a husband must be
of a different stock from his wife or wives, and therefore must be
accounted of a different stock from his children; and if he has wives
of different stocks, then their respective children are accounted of
different stocks. More than one stock, it will thus be perceived, is
represented in every household. And since a man owes duties to his
stock--the duties of acknowledged blood-relationship--while to those
of his family who are not of his stock, there being nothing but the
accident of birth to unite him, it necessarily follows that the family
among these tribes has very little cohesion.
Wholly sensuous is the language of the Australian, their abstraction
tending only in the way of arithmetic as far as the number five, and
that itself being quite an unusual stretch. Polysyllabic as it is in
formation, and having the accent on the penultimate, it is not at all
inharmonious. Though it comprehends many divergent forms, yet they
seem to be all fundamentally connected, constituting a group entirely
isolated from any of the linguistic families of the other parts of the
world. Within its narrow confines the language is well developed and
sensuously copious and expressive.
Like almost all other savages, the native Australians are rapidly
disappearing before the spread of civilization. The European settlers
crowd them out of all the more fertile and habitable lands, pressing
them more and more into the desert of the interior, where they find
it exceedingly hard to obtain in their roving, unsettled lives the
necessary means of subsistence. Great numbers are thus forced to
succumb to deprivations not of their own bringing, and not a few to the
diseases and vices brought among them by the new possessors of their
domains. The lowest estimate of their number, prior to the settlement
of Europeans among them, gives over 150,000, but the natives still
surviving scarcely figure one-half of that population. It is only a
question of a decade or two when the Australian, like the Tasmanian,
who was once his near neighbor, will have vanished from off the face of
the country, leaving behind him his implements of war and the chase,
his culinary and domestic apparatus, and the rude carvings of his
hands in caves and in rocks, as the principal evidences of his earthly
existence.
By competent critics the Australian is pronounced to be the most
degraded of human beings, and the lowest type of man. In reason, love,
generosity, conscience and mere responsibility he is the inferior of
many of the lower animals, and in the erection of a house for comfort,
shelter and security he is surpassed by creatures even as low in the
scale as the worms and insects. It is true, when hunger has to be met,
that he has shown some skill in the manufacture of implements necessary
to the obtainment of his food, and also in resisting the attacks of his
own kind and of the natural enemies by which he is surrounded. There
is no doubt that he is well satisfied with his condition in life, and
could hardly be induced to exchange it for another. He has doubtless
fulfilled the purpose of his being in the world, and unable to cope in
the struggle for existence with a superior civilization must succumb
to the latter which is better fitted to endure, a sad but impressive
lesson which is the teaching of every chapter of the world’s geologic
story.
LIVING SOULS.
All things were made by the Word of God. In this Word was life, spirit
or energy. Without it was not anything made that was made. Hence, says
Elihu, “the _Spirit_ of God hath made me, and the _breath_ of the
Almighty hath given me _life_;” or, as Moses testifies, “the Lord God
formed man, the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the
breath of lives; and _man_ became _a_ LIVING SOUL.”
Now, if it be asked what the Scriptures define a living soul to be, the
answer is a living natural, or animal body, whether of beasts, birds,
fish or men. The phrase living creature is the exact synonyme of living
soul. The words _nephesh chayiah_ are in Hebrew the signs of the ideas
expressed by Moses, _nephesh_ signifying _creature_, _life_, _soul_, or
_breathing frame_ from the verb _breathe_, and _chayiah_, a noun from
the verb _to live_, _of life_. _Nephesh chayiah_ is the genus which
includes all species of living creatures. In the common version of the
Scriptures, it is rendered _living soul_, and, therefore, under this
form of expression they speak of all flesh which breathes in air, earth
and sea.
From the evidence adduced a man then is merely a body of life in the
sense of his being an animal or living creature--_nephesh chayiah
adam_. Therefore, as a natural man, he has no preëminence over the
creatures God has made. Moses makes no distinction between him and
them, for he calls them all living souls, breathing the breath of
lives. His language, literally rendered, says, “and God said, the
waters shall produce abundantly _sheretz chayiah nephesh_ the _reptile
living soul_;” and again, “_kal nephesh chayiah erameshat_ every
living soul creeping.” In another verse, “let the earth bring forth
_nephesh chayiah_ the living soul after its kind, cattle, and creeping
thing, and beast of the earth after its kind,” and “_lekol rumesh ol
earetz asher bu nephesh chayiah_ to everything creeping upon the earth
which has in it living breath,” that is, the breath of lives. And
lastly, “whatsoever Adam called _nephesh chayiah_ the living soul that
was the name thereof.”