Chapter XVII: Monkeys, Apes and Baboons (1)

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.