Gorillas & Chimpanzees

The reason why Johanna may be regarded as the most valuable specimen for study is the fact that she is the only female of her race that has ever reached the state of puberty. She has done so, and this fact enables us to determine certain things which have never heretofore been known. This affords the Zoologists an opportunity for the study of her sexual development which may not again present itself in many years to come. From this important point of view she presents the student with many new problems in that branch of science.

I have elsewhere stated as my opinion that the female chimpanzee reaches the age of puberty at seven to nine years, and I have many reasons which I will not here recount, that cause me to adhere to that belief. But the uncertainty of the age of this ape does not destroy her value as a subject of scientific study.

The most sagacious specimen of the race that I have been brought in contact with is Consul II., who is now an inmate of the Bellvue Garden of Manchester, England. He has not been educated to perform mere tricks to gratify the visitor in the way that animals are usually trained, but most of the feats that he performs are prompted by his own desire and for his own pleasure.

There is a vast difference in the motives that prompt animals in the execution of these feats. I have elsewhere mentioned the fact that animals that are caused to act from fear do so mechanically, and it is not a true index to their intellect. While Consul and a few other apes that I have seen do many things by imitation they do not do so from coercion. They seem to understand the purpose and foresee the results, and these impel them to act.

Some of the feats performed by this ape I have never seen attempted by any other. One accomplishment is riding a tricycle. He knows the machine by the name of "bike," although it is not really a bicycle. He can adjust it and mount it with the skill of an acrobat. The ease and grace with which he rides are sufficient to provoke the envy of any boy in England. He propels it with great skill and steers it with the accuracy of an expert. He guides it around angles and obstacles in the way with absolute precision.

Consul is allowed to go at liberty a great deal of his time, which is the proper way to treat these apes in captivity. He rides the wheel for his own diversion. He does not do it to gratify strangers or to "show off."

Another accomplishment which he has, is that of smoking a pipe, cigar, or cigarette. It may not be commended from a moral standpoint, but the act appears to afford him quite as much pleasure as it does the average boy when he first acquires it, and he has also formed the habit of spitting as he smokes, but he has the good manners not to spit on the floor. When Consul has his pipe lighted he usually sits on the floor to enjoy it, and he spreads a sheet of paper down before him to spit on. When he has finished smoking he rolls up the paper and throws it into some corner out of the way. When playing about the grounds he often finds a cigar stub. He knows what it is, picks it up, puts it into his mouth and at once goes to his keeper for a light. He will not attempt to light his pipe or cigar, because he is afraid of burning his fingers; but he will light a match and hand it to his keeper to hold while lighting the pipe. He sometimes takes a piece of paper, lights it in the fire and hands it to some one else to light his pipe for him. He is afraid of the fire, and will not hold the paper while it is burning. If any one hesitates to take it from him, he throws it at them and gets out of the way. He is not so fond of cigarettes, because he gets the tobacco in his mouth, and he does not like the taste of it.

When Consul is furnished with a piece of chalk, he begins to draw some huge figure on the wall or floor. He never attempts to make a small design with chalk, but if given a pencil and paper he executes some peculiar figure of smaller design. Those made with the chalk or pencil are usually round or oval in shape, but if given a pen and ink he at once begins to make a series of small figures containing many acute angles. Whether these results are from design or accident I cannot say, but he appears to have a well-defined idea as to the use of the instrument, but whether he can distinguish between writing and drawing I am unable to say.

The only abstract thing that his keeper has tried to teach him is to select the letters of the alphabet. He has learned to distinguish the first three. These are made upon the faces of cubical blocks of wood: each block contains one letter on each of its faces. He selects the letter asked for with very few mistakes, and this appears to be from indifference more than from ignorance.

Consul is very fond of play, and makes friends with some strangers on sight, but to others he takes an aversion without any apparent cause, and while he is not disposed to be vicious when not annoyed, he resents with anger the approaches of certain persons. He is the only one I have seen that can use a knife and fork with very much skill, but he cuts up his food with almost as much ease as a boy of the same age would do, and uses his fork in eating. He has been taught to do this until he rarely uses his fingers in the act. He is fond of coffee and beer, but does not care for spirits.

There is nothing that so much delights Consul as to get into the large cage of monkeys and baboons kept in the garden. Most of them are afraid of him. But one large Guinea baboon is not, and on every occasion he shows his dislike for the ape. The latter, however, takes many chances in teasing him, but always manages to evade his attack. He displays much skill and a great degree of caution in playing these pranks upon the baboon when at close range. Upon the approach of the ape the other animals in the cage all seek some refuge, and he finds great diversion in stealing up to their place of concealment to frighten them. Consul is very strong, and can lift objects of surprising weight. It is awkward for him to stand in an upright position, but he does so with more ease than any other chimpanzee that I have ever seen. If any one will take hold of his hand he will stroll with him for a long time without apparent fatigue.

Owing to the sudden changes of temperature in that part of England, he is provided with a coat, which he is often required to wear when going out of doors. He does not like to be hampered with such garments, and if for a moment he is not watched, he removes it, and sometimes hides it to keep from wearing it. He is also provided with trousers, which he dislikes more if possible than his coat; but above all other articles of wearing apparel he dislikes shoes. His keeper often puts them on him, but whenever he gets out of sight he unties and removes them. He cannot tie the laces, but can untie them in an instant.

He does not evince so much aversion to a hat or cap, and will sometimes put one on without being told; but he has a perfect mania for a silk hat, and if allowed to do so he would demolish that of every stranger who comes to the garden. He has a decided vein of humour and a love of approbation. When he does anything that is funny or clever, he is perfectly aware of the fact; and when by any act he evokes a laugh from any one he is happy, and recognises the approval by a broad chimpanzee grin.

In the corner of the monkey-house is a room set apart for the keeper, and in this room supplies of food for the inmates are kept. In a small cupboard in one corner is kept a supply of bananas and other fruits. Consul knows this and has tried many times to burglarise it. On one occasion he secured a large screw-driver and attempted to prise open the door. He found the resistance to be greatest at the place where the door locked, and at this point he forced the instrument in the crevice and broke off a piece of the wood about an inch wide from the edge of the door. At this juncture he was discovered and reproved for his conduct, but he never fails to stick his fingers in this crack and try to open the door. He has not been able to unlock it when the key is given him, although he knows the use of it, and has often tried, but his keeper has never imparted the secret to him, and his method of using the key has been to prise with it, or pull it instead of turning it after putting it in the keyhole.

The young keeper, Mr. Webb, deserves great credit for his untiring attention to this valuable young ape, and the results of his zeal are worthy of the recognition of every man who is interested in the study of animals.

Another specimen that may be regarded as an intermediate type was recently kept in Belle Vue Gardens at Manchester. He was playful and full of mischief. He had been taught to use a stick or broom to fight with, and with such a weapon in his hand would run all over the building, hunting some one to fight. He did not appear to be serious in his assault, but treated it as fun. It was a bad thing to teach an ape, because they grow pugnacious as they grow older, and all animals kept closely confined acquire a bad temper.

In an adjoining cage was kept a young orang, and the two ate at the same table. The chimpanzee appeared to entertain a species of contempt for the orang. The keeper had taught him to pass the bread to his neighbour, and he obeyed this with such reluctance that his manner betrayed more disgust than kindness. A few small pieces of bread were placed on a tin plate, and the kulu was required to lift the plate in his hand, and offer it to the orang before he himself was allowed to eat. He would lift the plate a few inches above the table, and hold it before the orang's face; when the latter had taken a piece of the bread, the chimpanzee withdrew the plate, held it for a moment, and dropped it. Meanwhile he kept his eyes fixed on the orang. The manner in which he dropped the plate looked as if he did so in contempt. When the meal was finished, the kulu would drink his milk from a cup, wipe his mouth with the serviette, and then get down from the table. The orang would slowly climb down, and go back to his cage. We shall not describe the details of their home-life, but they were two jolly young bachelors, one of which was as stupid as the other was bright.

The specimens that were kept in the Gardens in New York were very fine. One of them was mentally equal to any other specimen hitherto in captivity. There were two kept in the Cincinnati Gardens which were also very fine. There have never been but nine of these apes brought to America so far as I am aware, but six of these lived longer and four of them grew to be larger than any other specimens of this race have ever done in captivity. For some reason they never survive long in England, or other parts of Europe. This is probably due to some condition of the atmosphere. It cannot be from a difference of treatment.

I have seen a large number of chimpanzees, but most of them were in captivity, yet I have seen enough of them in a wild state to gain some idea of their habits and manner, but those described will be sufficient to show the mental character of the genus.

CHAPTER XIII

OTHER KULU-KAMBAS

Whether the kulu-kamba is a distinct species of ape, or only a well-marked variety of the chimpanzee, he is by far the finest representative of his genus. Among those that I have seen are some very good specimens, and the clever things that I have witnessed them do are sufficient to stamp them as the highest type of all apes.

On board a small river steamer that plies the Ogowe, was a young female kulu that belonged to the captain. Her face was not by any means handsome, and her complexion was the darkest of any kulu I have ever seen. It was almost a coffee-colour. There were two or three spots much darker in shade, but not well defined in outline. The dark spots looked as if they had been artificially put on the face. The colour was not solid, but looked as if dry burnt umber had been rubbed or sprinkled over a surface of lighter brown. Although she was young (perhaps not more than two years old), her face looked almost like that of a woman of forty. Her short, flat nose, big, flexible lips, protruding jaws and prominent arches over the eyes, with a low receding forehead, conspired to make her look like a certain type of human being one frequently sees. This gave her what is known as a dish-face, or a concave profile. She had a habit of compressing her nose by contracting the muscles of the face; curling her lips as if in scorn, and at the same time glancing at those around her as if to express the most profound contempt.

Whatever may have been the sentiment in her mind, her face was a picture of disdain, and the circumstances under which she made use of these grimaces, certainly pointed to the fact that she felt just like she looked. At other times her visage would be covered with a perfect smile. It was something more than a grin, and the fact that it was used only at a time when she was pleased or diverted, showed that the emotion which gave rise to it was perfectly in keeping with the face itself. In repose her face was neither pretty nor ugly. It did not strongly depict a high mental status, nor yet portray the instincts of a brute; but her countenance was as safe an index to the mind as that of the human being. This is true of the chimpanzee more perhaps than of any other ape. The gorilla doubtless feels the sense of pleasure, but his face does not yield to the emotion, while the opposite passions are expressed with great intensity, and with the common chimpanzee it is the same way, but not to the same extent.

The kulu in question was more of a coquette than she was of a shrew. She plainly showed that she was fond of flattery. Not perhaps in the same sense that a human being is, but she was certainly conscious of approbation and fond of applause. When she accomplished anything difficult, she seemed aware of it; and when she succeeded in doing a thing which she was not allowed to do, she never failed to express herself in the manner described above. She always appeared to be perfectly conscious of being observed by others, but she was defiant and composed. There was nothing known in the catalogue of mischief that she was not ready to tackle at any moment and take her chances on the result. From the stoke-hole to the funnel, from the jack-staff to the rudder, she explored that boat.

To keep her out of mischief, she was tied on the saloon deck with a long line, but no one aboard the vessel was able to tie a knot in the line which she could not untie with dexterity and ease. Her master, who was a sailor and an expert in the art of tying knots, exhausted his efforts in trying to make one that would defy her skill.

On one occasion I was aboard the little steamer when the culprit was brought up from the main deck where she had been in some mischief, and tied to one of the rails along the side of the boat. The question of tying her was discussed, and at length a new plan was devised. In the act of untying a knot she always began with the part of the knot that was nearest to her. It was now agreed to tie the line around one of the rails on the side of the deck, about half-way between the two stanchions that supported it, then to carry the loose ends of the line to the stanchion and make it fast in the angle of it and the rail. This was done. As soon as she was left alone she began to examine the knots; but she made no attempt at first to untie them except to feel them as if to see how firmly they were made. She then climbed up on the iron rail around which the middle of the line was tied, and slackened the knot. She pulled first at one strand and then at the other, but one end was tied to the stanchion and the other to her neck, and she could find no loose end to draw through. First one way and then the other she drew this noose. She saw that in some way it was connected with the stanchion. She drew the noose along the rail until it was near the post; she climbed down upon the deck, then around the post and back again; she climbed up over the rails and down on the outside, and again carefully examined the knot; she climbed back, then through between the rails and back, then under the rails and back, but she could find no way to get this first knot out of the line. For a moment she sat down on the deck, and viewed the situation with evident concern. She slowly rose to her feet and again examined it; she moved the noose back to its place in the middle of the rail, climbed up by it, and again drew it out as far as the strands would allow. Again she closed it; she took one strand in her hand and traced it from the loop to the stanchion, then she took the other end in the same manner and traced it from the loop to her neck. She looked at the loop and then slowly drew it out as far as it would come. She sat for a while holding it in one hand, and with the other moved each strand of the knot. She was in a deep study, and did not even deign a glance at those who were watching her. At length she took the loop in both hands, deliberately put it over her head and crawled through it. The line thus released dropped to the deck; she quickly descended, took hold of it near her neck, and found that it was untied; she gathered it up as she advanced towards the other end that was tied to the post, and at once began to loosen the knots about it. In a minute more the last knot was released, when she gathered the whole line into a bundle, looked at those around her with that look of contempt which we have described, and departed at once in search of other mischief. The air of triumph and contempt was enough to convince any one of her opinion of what she had done.

If this feat was the result of instinct, the lexicons must find another definition for that word. There were six white men who witnessed the act, and the verdict of all was that she had solved a problem which few children of her own age could have done. Every movement was controlled by reason. The tracing out of cause and effect was too evident for any one to doubt.

Almost any animal can be taught to perform certain feats, but that does not show the innate capacity. The only true measure of the faculty of reason is to reduce the actor to his own resources, and see how he will render himself under some new condition, otherwise the act will be, at least in part, mechanical or imitative. In all my efforts to study the mental calibre of animals I have confined them strictly to their own judgment, and left them to work out the problem alone. By this means only can we estimate to what extent they apply the faculty of reason. No one doubts that all animals have minds, which are receptive in some degree. But it has often been said that they are devoid of reason, and controlled alone by some vague attribute called instinct. Such is not the case. It is the same faculty of the mind that men employ to solve the problems that arise in every sphere of life. It is the one which sages and philosophers have used in every phase of science. It differs in degree, but not in kind.

This kulu-kamba knew the use of a corkscrew. This she had acquired from seeing it applied by men. While she could not use it herself with success, she often tried and never applied it to the wrong purpose.

She would take the deck broom and scrub the deck, unless there was water on it, in which event she always left the job. She did not seem to know the purpose of sweeping the deck, and never swept the dirt before the broom. This was doubtless imitative. She only grasped the idea that a broom was used to scrub the deck, but she failed to observe the effect produced. However, it cannot be said with certainty to what extent she was aware of the effect, but it is inferred from the fact that she did not try to remove the dirt.

She knew what coal was intended for, and often climbed into the bunker and threw it down by the furnace door. The furnace door and steam gauge were two things that escaped her busy fingers. I do not know how she learned the danger of them, but she never touched them. She had to be watched to keep her from seizing the machinery. For this she seemed to have a strong desire, but did not know the danger she incurred.

I was aboard a ship when a trader brought off from the beach a young kulu to be sent to England. The little captive sat upright on the deck and seemed aware that he was being sent away. At any rate his face wore a look of deep concern as if he had no friend to whom he could appeal. On approaching him I spoke to him, using his own word for food. He looked up and promptly answered it. He looked as if in doubt as to whether I was a big ape or something else. I repeated the sound, and he repeated the answer and came towards me. As he approached me I again gave the sound. He came up and sat by my feet for a moment, looking into my face. I uttered the sound again, when he took hold of my leg and began to climb up as if it had been a tree. He climbed up to my neck and began to play with my lips, nose and ears. We at once became friends, and I tried to buy him, but the price asked was more than I desired to pay. I regretted to part with him, but he was taken back to the beach, and I never saw him again.

On another occasion one was brought aboard, and after speaking to him I gave him an orange; he began to eat it and at the same time caught hold of the leg of my trousers as if he did not wish me to leave him. I petted and caressed him for a moment and turned away, but he held on to me. He waddled about over the deck, holding on to my clothes, and would not release me. He was afraid of his master and the native boy who had him in charge. He was a timid creature, but was quite intelligent, and I felt sorry for him because he seemed to realise his situation.

On the same voyage I saw one in the hands of a German trader. It was a young male, about one year old. He promptly answered the food sound, and I called him to come to me; but this he neither answered nor complied with. He looked at me as if to ask where I had learned his language. I repeated the sound several times, but elicited no answer. I have elsewhere called attention to the fact that these apes do not answer the call when they can see the one who makes it, and they do not always comply with it. In this respect they behave very much the same as young children, and it may be remarked that one difficulty in all apes is to secure fixed attention. This is exactly the same with young children. Even when they clearly understand, sometimes they betray no sign of having heard it. At other times they show that they both hear and understand, but do not comply.

Another specimen that was brought aboard a ship when I was present was a young male, something less than two years old. He was sullen and morose. He did not resent my approaches, but he did not encourage them. I first spoke to him with the food sound, but he gave no heed. I retired a little distance from him and called him, but he paid no attention. I then used the sound of warning; he raised his head, and looked in the direction from which the sound came. I repeated it, and he looked at me for a moment and turned his head away. I repeated it again. He looked at me, then looked around as if to see what it meant, and again resumed his attitude of repose.

On my last voyage to the coast I saw a very good specimen in the Congo. It was a female, a little more than two years old. She was also of a dark complexion, but quite intelligent. She had been captured north of there, and within the limits elsewhere described. At the time I saw her she was ill and under treatment, but her master, the British consul, told me that when she was well she was bright and sociable. I made no attempt to talk with her, except some time after, having left her, I gave the call sound, which she answered by looking around the corner of the house. I do not know whether she would have come or not, as she was tied and could not have done so had she desired to.

I have seen a few other specimens of this ape, and most of them appear to be of a somewhat higher order than the ordinary chimpanzee, but there is among them a wide range of intelligence. It would be a risk to say whether the lowest specimen of kulu is higher or lower than the highest specimen of the common chimpanzee or not, but taken as a whole they are much superior. I shall not describe at length the specimens which have been known in captivity, since most of them have been amply described by others; but it is not out of place to mention some of them.

If proper conditions were afforded to keep a pair of kulus in training for some years, it is difficult to say what they might not be taught. They are not only apt in learning what they are taught, but they are well-disposed, and can apply their accomplishment to some useful end. We cannot say to what extent they may be able to apply what they learn from man, because the necessity of doing so is removed by the attention given them.