CHAPTER XXVI

CHAPTER XXVIMAN-EATING ANIMALS—THE TIGER’S SLAVE—A SAVAGE LION-HUNT—WOLF-REARED CHILDREN—MEN AND APES—A SHAM GORILLA—UNPROHIBITED MURDER—A MONKEY’S MALISON.

MAN-EATING ANIMALS—THE TIGER’S SLAVE—A SAVAGE LION-HUNT—WOLF-REARED CHILDREN—MEN AND APES—A SHAM GORILLA—UNPROHIBITED MURDER—A MONKEY’S MALISON.

We have seen how some animals are, by their cunning and sagacity, able to compete even with man himself. At an earlier period, when wild animals were more numerous than they are now and when man had nowhere risen above the savage state, this must have been still more the case, and, even now, there are parts of the world where the struggle between man and beast can hardly be said to have been decided in favour of the former. Thus in India, in spite of its old and, in many respects, high civilisation, tigers have held their own from time immemorial, and every year numbers of the natives are killed by certain individuals amongst them, that have acquired a taste for human flesh in preference to any other.

These man-eaters, as they are called, become wonderfully cunning, and never attack either a European or ashikaree, or native hunter, who is always armed with his matchlock. The poor labourers or cattle-herds, on the other hand, who carry nothing, except perhaps a stick, which, of course, is of no use, are totally defenceless against these lurking fiends, which hang about thevillages, and sometimes quite depopulate them. A fearful thing it must be, not to be able to stir beyond the little collection of mud and straw-thatched huts which make an Indian village without being liable to a sudden and horrible death. Sometimes, indeed, the tiger will come into the very village street and carry off a man or a woman almost from the door of their hut. Or it will lurk near the well or tank from which the water is drawn, so that to procure the precious fluid, without which the lives of the community could not be supported, individual lives must constantly be risked. The only remedy for a state of things like this is the arrival of a British officer or, at least, of a native shikaree upon the scene, and this in a country so large and densely populated as India, and with such a small scattering of Europeans in it, is not an everyday occurrence. Often, therefore, the people get tired of waiting, and after losing a certain proportion of their number, the remainder abandon the village and migrate to another part of the country altogether.

No wonder all sorts of superstitions have sprung up in the native mind concerning an animal so fierce and terrible, against which men—at least poor men—are so defenceless. One of these superstitions is that the tiger has power over the body of the man slain by him, for as long as he may care to come to it—that the man, under these circumstances, becomes, as it were, the slave of the tiger, and is bound to help his master and give him warning of danger should he see it approaching. Thus a story is told of a shikaree who went to watch by the remains of a man that a tiger had killed, hoping to shoot themurderer when it returned at sundown to complete its repast on the body, as is the animal’s habit. In the still of the afternoon, when the sun was low, the shikaree saw the tiger approaching over the level ground, but while it was still at a safe distance, the corpse, all mangled and gory as it was, raised itself a little and held up a hand in warning, on which the tiger slunk away. Twice it came back, but each time it was warned in the same way by the man that was now its slave, so the shikaree had to give it up, and go without getting a shot. If the corpse had been left there, then, even after it had become a skeleton, it would have been obliged to help the tiger, had the latter required its assistance; but no doubt it was taken away and properly buried.

A Kaffir Lion Hunt.The hunters surrounded the lion shouting and singing, and the lion, confused by the noise and numbers, crouched and growled. The circle grew smaller and smaller until a single warrior rushed forward, the lion sprang upon him to be received on the point of his assegai, and was soon dispatched by the brave hunter and his comrades.

A Kaffir Lion Hunt.

The hunters surrounded the lion shouting and singing, and the lion, confused by the noise and numbers, crouched and growled. The circle grew smaller and smaller until a single warrior rushed forward, the lion sprang upon him to be received on the point of his assegai, and was soon dispatched by the brave hunter and his comrades.

The Hindoos would not suffer so much from tigers if they were a more warlike race, for, although they have no firearms, they might easily make spears, and a party of men with spears can kill the fiercest beast of prey. Thus the Kaffirs of South Africa if a lion should kill even an ox belonging to them, much more one of themselves, never rest until they have taken its life in return. The whole village arm themselves with their spears—or assegais,[18]as we call them—and follow up the track of the marauder till they have at last found him, however far he may have gone. They then form a circle round the lion, and holding one assegai in the right hand, and some spare ones, together with a shield large enough to cover the wholebody, in the left, they begin to close in upon him, singing and shouting. The lion, when he sees so many men advancing against him, crouches down and, growling fiercely, makes ready to spring upon one of them, as soon as he comes within a certain distance. He has not long to wait. The men, continuing to advance, make the circle ever smaller, and as he turns from side to side, doubtful on which point in it first to charge, a single warrior—as arranged probably by previous agreement—rushes forward to the combat. Instantly, the lion’s attention, which has been distracted amidst the numbers of his enemies, is fixed upon this one, and, with concentrated fury, he comes leaping towards him. Did the man stand to receive the charge, he would be dashed to the ground by the mere weight of the lion’s body; but, skilful as brave, he sinks gracefully down, with his shield held over him, and stabs up with his assegai from underneath it. For one blow—which may or may not be fatal—the lion has time, but, almost as he makes it, twenty or thirty assegais meet in his body, as, with a tremendous yell, the rest rush down upon him, each striving to be first to shield the comrade, who has thus so splendidly performed his part. In the mêlée which ensues many of the men may be more or less badly mauled, whilst some may lose their lives, but when it is all over—and it does not last many minutes—the lion lies stretched on the ground, with hardly an inch of skin, in his whole body, not cut by the blade of an assegai. Thus, amongst the more warlike tribes of Africa, lions have no chance of becoming habitual man-eaters, as do so many tigers in India, but in those parts of the country wherethe natives are timid, just the same thing happens, though, even there, there is not often so long a lease of life for the offending animal.

Most of the larger feline animals take, occasionally, to man-eating, as leopards in Asia or Africa, and jaguars in America. The puma, however, as we have seen before, is the friend of man, and never behaves in this way. Wolves, when they go in packs, are very dangerous to man, but I have not heard of their showing a special predilection for his flesh except in the province of Oude, in India, and here, since they hunt separately, for the most part, and a grown person—at least a man—would be often too strong for them, it is children that they mostly attack. “Night comes on,” says someone who has lived there, “the wolf slinks about the village site, marking the unguarded hut. It comes to one protected by a low wall, or closed by an ill-fittingtattie(mat). Inside, the mother, wearied by the long day’s work, is asleep with her child in her arms, unconscious of the danger at hand. The wolf makes its spring, fastens his teeth in the baby’s throat, slings the little body across its back, and is off before the mother is fully aware of her loss. Pursuit is generally useless. If forced to drop its burden, the cruel creature tears it beyond power of healing, while should it elude pursuit, the morning’s search results in the discovery of a few bones, the remnants of the dreadful meal.”

It would seem—that is to say, there is evidence which makes it difficult not to believe so, so for my part, I do believe it—that, every now and then, a child that has been carried off in this way by a wolf, is not eaten, butgrows up with the young wolves, in the den to which it has been brought, being suckled like them by the dam. The evidence of which I speak comes from various witnesses, both native and European, and whilst the different stories told confirm one another, several “wolf-boys,” as they are called, have been actually brought up in orphanages or other charitable institutions in Oude, into which they have been received, after having, according to the account of those who brought them there, been actually captured whilst in the company of wolves, and going on all fours, like them. These boys, when first caught, were just like animals in all their ways and habits, ate only raw meat, and though they got a little less wolf-like by degrees, can hardly be said to have ever become human beings, and never learnt to speak.

Here is an account of the capture of one of these poor wolf-boys. It appeared in theAnnals and Magazine of Natural Historymore than fifty years ago, and is quoted by Professor Ball in hisJungle Life in India, where a résumé of the evidence on this subject may be found. It evidently seems as strong to him as it does to me, but I was wrong to say that it was difficult not to believe in the thing after reading the evidence for it, for the fact is that evidence has not so much effect on people as it ought to have. We believe a thing—or are inclined to believe it—or not, according to the general inclination of our mind, and then test the evidence by our belief, instead of our belief by the evidence. However, here is the account, and it is only one of several others: “Some time ago two of the King of Oude’ssawars, riding along thebanks of the Gúmptji, saw three animals come down to drink. Two were evidently young wolves, but the third was as evidently some other animal. The sawars rushed in upon them and captured all three, and to their great surprise, found that one was a small, naked boy. He was on all fours, like his companions, had callosities on his knees and elbows, evidently caused by the attitude used in moving about, and bit and scratched violently in resisting the capture. The boy was brought up in Lucknow, where he lived some time, and may, for aught I know, be living still. He was quite unable to articulate words, but had a dog-like intellect, quick at understanding signs and so on.” Again, quoting from the same paper: “There was another more wonderful, but hardly so well authenticated, story of a boy who never could get rid of a strong wolfish smell, and who was seen, not long after his capture, to be visited by three wolves, which came evidently with hostile intentions, but which, after closely examining him, he seeming not the least alarmed, played with him, and, some nights afterwards, brought their relations, making the number of visitors amount to five, the number of cubs the litter he had been taken from was composed of.”

I quote these accounts as the two most interesting, and, for their evidential value, refer again to the work I have just mentioned. Then was the famous story of Romulus and Remus true after all? Supposing the brothers had been found and rescued by peasants, before they had been long with the wolf, this does not seem to me impossible, for then there would not have been time for those dreadfuldehumanising effects, recorded in these Indian cases. But whether true or not, I have no doubt that the legend—and it is only one of many such—grew out of observed facts, and such facts were, no doubt, commoner in early times than they are now. As a reason for the child being sometimes suckled, after having been brought by one of a pair of wolves to the common den, Professor Ball suggests that if the other of them had, in the meantime, brought home something else—as, say, a kid or goat—and if this had been eaten first, the child, lying amongst the cubs, might have been received as one of them, before a fresh meal was required, in which case it would not afterwards have been hurt. He thinks it more likely, however, that the child should have been stolen by a she-wolf, to replace the loss of one or other of her cubs. I do not, myself, however, think this nearly so likely. Why should it occur to a wolf, or any animal, to replace its own young by a human child? If it wished to adopt, it would surely adopt a wolf-cub. The first of these explanations, therefore, is the one that I accept, and it seems to me a probable enough one.

Children in Oude used to be so frequently carried off, that there were people who made a livelihood by searching the wolf-dens, on the chance of finding gold ornaments there, for in India it is customary to deck children out in jewellery, of which even the poorest people seem to have a family stock. No wonder, therefore, if sometimes one should have escaped being devoured in the way above indicated; but whether the same state of things prevails atthe present time I do not know. Perhaps it does, for the people who went about looking for the jewels, did not want the wolves to be exterminated, for fear they should not be able to make an honest living, just as our own wreckers were very much opposed to the building of lighthouses, or as some shipowners think it a wicked thing that they should not be able to insure their vessels for four or five times their value. Whether they still can do this, or whether there are still professional wolf-den searchers in India, I don’t quite know.

It seems possible, then, that man may sometimes live with animals, and lead the life that they do—in fact, become an animal to all intents and purposes. On the other hand, there are animals that do not fall so very far behind man, in his lowest and most savage state. I am thinking, of course, of the great man-like or anthropoid apes, in whose uncouth, satyr-like forms, and grotesque physiognomies, we no doubt see, if not actual copies of what our remote ancestors were, yet something very similar to what they must have been. This was Darwin’s opinion, though from the stress that is always being laid upon his not having thought the existing apes our ancestors—as some still think he did—but only our co-descendants from a common progenitor, there is a danger of forgetting that it was. Man, according to Darwin’s view, has very much diverged from this common ape ancestor, whilst the existing apes have not; but he has only so diverged through a number of steps or stages, and could we trace these back, we should soon reach beings—our real forefathers—differingbut little from the apes of the present day. This is really not so very different from having descended from those actual apes; but many people seem to find great comfort in thinking they have not done that. It is only tweedledum as against tweedledee, but they make the most of it.

Midnight Assassins.From the picture by Briton Riviere, R.A.

Midnight Assassins.

From the picture by Briton Riviere, R.A.

Chief amongst these interesting beings, whose general appearance, in spite of their hairiness, their semi-quadrupedal gait and their arboreal habits, distinguishes them amongst all other animals, as being next-of-kin to man, stands the great gorilla, who lives its life in the half-twilight gloom of the forests of equatorial Africa. What is this life? Unfortunately, the little we know of it is all in connection with the persecution which these creatures, like their relatives the orangs and chimpanzees, are always liable to, and too frequently endure, at the hands of man; so that very little concerning them, beyond how they behave when shot, has as yet been made known to us. The female gorilla, it would seem, makes a shelter of woven branches amongst the trees (as do both the species above mentioned) for herself and her young one; but whether the male, who is less arboreal, does this too, I am not so sure, and indeed Du Chaillu—who, though hardly ever mentioned by writers on natural history who yet follow him, knew more than anyone else about gorillas—does not, as far as I remember, give this as one of their habits. Be this as it may, the gorilla is the least arboreal of all the anthropoid apes, not climbing nearly so well or so frequently, even as the chimpanzee—its companion in theAfrican forests—much less the orang-utan of Borneo and Sumatra, or the gibbon, another Asiatic species, which is the most active of all. Its great bulk would, no doubt, be against this, but as the size of any animal must stand in some sort of relation to its habits of life, it seems curious that a creature living in dense forests, and belonging to a climbing family, should have become so large as to impede its powers in this respect.

Now the male gorilla, standing, sometimes, six feet high, and being much huger and bulkier than the largest man of that height, is greatly superior in size to the female, whose stature does not often exceed four and a half feet; for which reason she appears to be, and probably is, more fitted for nimbleness and activity, amongst the branches of trees, than her huge and heavy-bodied mate. But what has led to this great disparity of size between the male and female gorilla—a disparity which does not exist to anything like the same extent in the other man-like apes? Both are nourished by the same food; both must lead—or, if they do not now, must at any rate once have led—the very same life; therefore, as it would seem, there must be some special reason for their size and strength differing so greatly. It does not seem to be quite certain whether polygamy is, or is not, the custom amongst gorillas, but there can be little doubt that the rival males often fight together, for the possession of the females. The natives showed Du Chaillu some skulls of these great apes, that had the canine teeth of the upper jaw—which in the male gorilla are almost as large as a lion’s—broken off, andthis, they said, had been done in some tremendous conflict of this sort, in which their owners had been engaged. Now if the male gorillas, besides being accustomed to fight for the females, are also polygamous, this may be a reason why they have become so much larger than the latter, for the largest and strongest amongst them would always have won, and so, by collecting together a more numerous harem, would have left a greater number of offspring to inherit their size and ferocity. The females, however, not fighting, would not have grown larger in the same way, for though, in nature, the qualities of one sex are often transmitted to the other, this is by no means always the case. Generally, indeed, if not always, where there is polygamy, the sexes differ much both in size and appearance.

What a sight amidst these gloomy forests must be the contention in fierce rivalry of two full-grown male gorillas! We may imagine one—the more favoured suitor—sitting on the ground, his back, as is usual, against the trunk of a tree, and his arm flung carelessly about the object of his regard; the great fingers of the wonderfully human hand burying themselves in her fur. All at once the peaceful nature of the scene is rudely disturbed by the frowning presence of another male, whilst the silence is as suddenly broken by a terrific barking cry, passing into a long, loud, sullen, reverberating roar. The unwelcome comer has been, at first, upon all fours, but now he rears himself upon his short hind legs, and leaving the screen of heavy frondage that has hitherto partially concealed him, advances into the open space beneath this tropical trysting-tree.As he does so, the female discreetly retires, whilst her spouse, or lover, assuming also the erect posture, comes forward to meet his rival. The two advance upon each other with ferocious mien, they roar alternately, or in unison, and beat, at intervals, with their doubled fists upon the vast convexity of their chests, producing in this way a deep, continuous, hollow sound, like the rolling of a muffled drum. As the distance between them decreases, the eyes of each seem to flash more fiercely, whilst the crest of hair upon the forehead is drawn rapidly up and down, with a twitching motion, by the angry contraction of the facial muscles. At length, and with a final roar, when separated by but a few paces, each drops upon its knuckles,[19]and springs, almost at the same time, upon the other. Were it a man that either encountered, he would instantly be stretched dead or dying upon the ground, but here terrific strength upon the one side is met by force as great upon the other, and the combat is as long and as dubious as it is furious and violent.

After a heavy blow or two dealt with the open palm, the aim of either champion would, probably, be to pull the other towards him, so as to inflict a wound with the powerful canine teeth. As a result there would soon be a deadlock, in which the two great creatures, pressed together and grappling in a close embrace, would gnash and tear furiously at one another. As long as the limbs were not free, the fighting would be entirely with the teeth, and asthese would probably be used to parry as well as to inflict wounds, they would constantly clash together, and might thus sometimes be broken off. How, or for how long, such a combat would be likely to proceed, what might be its result, whether the provoker of it—the bashful young gorillaress—would be unconcerned during its continuance or stand regarding it with an anxious eye from her retreat amidst the undergrowth of the forest, whether, too, by manifesting a choice she would become an active agent in the life’s happiness, or otherwise, of the two grim pretendants to her favours, or go off passively with either one or the other, as mere spoils of the victor, it is not in our power to say, nor will we here further consider. Had there been as much desire to see and study the habits of the great man-ape, as there has been to procure specimens of him, which add but little to our knowledge, and that in the least interesting way, we might be well informed on all these points and many others, but, as it is, we must wait till real naturalists—people, that is to say, who love watching animals and hate killing them—go out to these regions—they are wanted everywhere. Doubtless, bad wounds are sometimes inflicted by male gorillas upon one another, in these tremendous encounters, but probably they are never fatal, since the huge framework would be as potent to resist injury as the giant strength would be to inflict it, and a gorilla that had not yet arrived at maturity would never think of trying conclusions with a full-grown one.

Though the above picture is merely imaginary, yet it isnot, perhaps, altogether void of foundation. It is natural to suppose that in attacking one of his own species, the gorilla would employ the same methods of warfare as he does against his only extraneous enemy—man; and that these are such as I have described them, the following account will show. “We walked,” says Du Chaillu, “with the greatest care, making no noise at all. The countenances of the men showed that they thought themselves engaged in a very serious undertaking; but we pushed on till finally we thought we saw through the thick woods the moving of the branches and small trees, which the great beast was tearing down, probably to get from them the berries and fruits he lives on. Suddenly, as we were yet creeping along in a silence which made a heavy breath seem loud and distinct, the woods were at once filled with the tremendous barking roar of the gorilla. Then the underbrush swayed rapidly just ahead, and presently before us stood an immense male gorilla. He had gone through the jungle on all fours; but when he saw our party he erected himself and looked us boldly in the face. He stood about a dozen yards from us, and was a sight I think I shall never forget. Nearly six feet high (he proved four inches shorter), with immense body, huge chest, and great, muscular arms, with fiercely glaring, large, deep grey eyes, and a hellish expression of face, which seemed to me like some nightmare vision: thus stood before us this king of the African forest. He was not afraid of us. He stood there and beat his breast with his huge fists, till it resounded like an immense bass-drum,which is their mode of offering defiance; meantime giving vent to roar after roar. His eyes began to flash fiercer fire as we stood motionless on the defensive, and the crest of short hair, which stands on his forehead, began to twitch rapidly up and down, while his powerful fangs were shown, as he again sent forth a thunderous roar. And now truly,” exclaims Du Chaillu—upon whom, evidently, no striking sight or impressive experience was thrown away—“he reminded me of nothing but some hellish dream-creature—a being of that hideous order, half man, half beast, which we find pictured by old artists in some representations of the infernal regions. He advanced a few steps, then stopped to utter that hideous roar again—advanced again, and finally stopped, when at a distance of about six yards from us.” At this point the poor gorilla, who, whatever his appearance may have been, could not, certainly, in the malignity of his intentions have surpassed Du Chaillu himself, was shot. In another moment he would, no doubt, have launched himself upon his assailants—for such the party really were—and the picture would have been reversed, except that the “half man” would have been guiltless of any premeditated design against the life of an unoffending fellow-creature.

In another encounter we find the same distribution of blame as between the whole man and the half one, but luck here is on the side of the latter. “Our little party separated, as is the custom, to stalk the wood in various directions. Gambo and I kept together. One brave fellow went off alone in a direction where he thought he could find a gorilla. The other three took another course.We had been about an hour separated when Gambo and I heard a gun fired but a little way from us, and presently another. We were already on our way to the spot, where we hoped to see a gorilla slain, when the forest began to resound with the most terrific roars. Gambo seized my arms in great agitation, and we hurried on, both filled with a dreadful and sickening alarm. We had not gone far when our worst fears were realised. The poor, brave fellow who had gone off alone was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, and I thought at first quite dead. His bowels were protruding through the lacerated abdomen. Beside him lay his gun. The stock was broken, and the barrel was bent and flattened. It bore plainly the marks of the gorilla’s teeth. When the unlucky hunter revived a little, he told the following story. He said that he had met the gorilla suddenly and face to face, and that it had not attempted to escape. It was, he said, a huge male, and seemed very savage. It was in a very gloomy part of the wood, and the darkness, I suppose, made him miss. He said he took good aim, and fired when the beast was only about eight yards off. The ball merely wounded it in the side. It at once began beating its chest, and with the greatest rage advanced upon him. To run away was impossible. He would have been caught in the jungle before he had gone a dozen steps. He stood his ground, and as quickly as he could reloaded his gun. Just as he raised it to fire, the gorilla dashed it out of his hands, the gun going off in the fall; then in an instant, and with a terrible roar, the animal gave him a tremendous blow with its immense open paw, frightfully lacerating theabdomen, and with this single blow laying bare part of the intestines. As he sank bleeding to the ground the monster seized the gun, and the poor hunter thought he would have his brains dashed out with it. But the gorilla seems to have looked upon this also as an enemy, and in his rage almost flattened the barrel between his strong jaws.”

It is not quite certain from either of these accounts whether the gorilla made his final onslaught in the upright or the quadrupedal attitude. It seems more likely that the former is intended, but I cannot help thinking myself that in the quick rush at the end of the leisurely advance the creature would adopt his usual mode of progression, which is a sort of shambling amble on all fours, but with the fore part of the body so raised above the ground, on account of the great length of the fore arms, as to make it of a transitional character. If, for instance, a man’s arms were so long that he could lean on them when running, and merely stooped a little in order to do so, we should hardly say that his gait was quadrupedal—and this is how the gorilla walks or runs under ordinary circumstances.

Du Chaillu tells us that the male gorilla is unmolested except by man, and also that he has never known a full-grown male to retreat upon his approach, or to act otherwise than as recorded in the foregoing narratives. Now gorillas live “in the loneliest and darkest portions of the dense African jungle,” and to many of them man must be unknown till he seeks them out for their destruction. As a rule, when a male is discovered it issitting with its back against a tree—in the way I have pictured it in my imagined scene of rivalry—whilst at least one female feeds about, in its near neighbourhood. Perhaps there will be a young one sitting on the ground, or clinging to its mother’s breast. Now when, for the first time in its experience, a man intrudes thus upon a gorilla’s domestic privacy, and it rises and advances upon him, for what does it take him? Most probably, as it appears to me, for another and a rival gorilla—thus more than returning the “half-man” compliment paid it by Du Chaillu.

There is good evidence that monkeys of all sorts see, in ourselves, but a larger species of monkey, and even the various expressions of the human countenance seem, in some degree, intelligible to them. The gorilla sees suddenly before him, in the gloom of the forest, a creature of the same general shape as himself—of his own colour, too, for his skin is black, and so is that of a negro—whilst in size it, at least, approaches him. Minor differences, such as an unaccustomed slenderness of build, and an inferior development of jaws and teeth, are, probably, but imperfectly grasped. A peculiarly weak and weedy-looking gorilla, that, no doubt, is the general effect produced; but the masculine character is stamped upon the figure, and its approach suggests rivalry. All the details of the male gorilla’s behaviour, on the occasion of these rencontres—as narrated by Du Chaillu—are explained on the above supposition. We can see now, at once, why he does not seek safety in flight, for such a retreat would both derogate from his honour, nor does itseem to be necessary. If, indeed, he saw and smelt man, as any four-footed creature sees and smells him—but instead of that it is only another gorilla that he has to do with—an inferior and less agreeably smelling one, no doubt—a degenerate—but still presuming to rival him in the affections of his spouse. Upon this hint he acts, and is, in consequence, shot by the being that he takes for a very sorry specimen of his own species.

A Gorilla Fight in the Forest.

Space will not allow me to supplement this slight account of the gorilla with a few remarks about those two other large apes—the orang-utan and chimpanzee—which, with himself, make the three nearest approaches to the human species. Indeed, there are not very many remarks to be made, for our knowledge of these most interesting creatures is contained, for the most part, in certain horrid descriptions of the way in which they act when shot; complacent accounts—innocently worded, cheerfully told—of what are really little better than so many cold-blooded, hard-hearted murders. Everything, almost, that we have heard at first hand, has been in connection with these barbarous proceedings—how mothers, for instance, behave when shot with their infants clinging to them, or how the infants act when they find their mothers are dead: how onemiasorpappanwill weave branches together, to sit upon, whilst it is shot at, and another make a shift to continue alive with legs and arms broken, the spine shattered, and all sorts of other more or less important parts injured in varying degrees: bullets flattened, here and there, too—in the neck or jaws—as lesser, thoughstill piquant additions—enjoyable side-dishes—to the main feast of maimings and manglings.

“Tenacity of life”—“Extraordinarytenacity of life”—is the scientific heading under which cases of the last kind fall, and everyone must have noticed the strange and horrid sort of pleasure with which they are always recorded by those responsible for them—how their spirits seem to rise as the list of injuries grows longer—“the more the merrier,” in fact, and the more harrowing the more welcome. This is what anyone interested in the ways of wild animals has to go through when he seeks for knowledge concerning them—life written very small indeed, and death, with contortions, in great flaring capital letters. Seldom, indeed, do we get the light and joy of the one unclouded by the gloom of the other. As Lady Macbeth says, “Here’s the smell of the blood still.” It is, I own, a mystery to me how a civilised man can deliberately kill a monkey even—much less one of the higher apes. There are many, indeed, who having shot a monkey once, have been so thoroughly upset by its reproachful and very human-like actions that they have resolved never to do so again; but as it is better to be warned through others than by one’s own experience, I will conclude this small work by giving two striking cases of this kind, both of which are quoted by Professor Romanes in his interestingAnimal Intelligence.

“I was once,” says Captain Johnson—to take the first of these—“one of a party of Jeekary, in the Babor district; our tents were pitched in a large mango garden, and our horses were piquetted in the same garden, alittle 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 rhesus) 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.”

The second case is to be found recorded by Sir W. Hoste in hisMemoirs, and is thus alluded to by Jesse inGleanings from Natural History: “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.’”

Monkeys are supposed to be less intelligent than men; and yet I never heard of a soldier, shot down in battle,reproaching in this dumb but dreadful way the king or cabinet ministers who had sent him out to be killed. But then, when one comes to think of it, it is not quite such an easy thing for soldiers to do as it is for monkeys. Many a poor fellow, perhaps, may have had it in his mind, and even got his finger ready; but when he looked round, just before dying, for his king or his emperor or the cabinet ministers—why, they were not there, so what would have been the use of holding it up?

FOOTNOTES[1]Many birds are accustomed to eject the indigestible portions of their food—bones, fur, feathers, etc., or the shells and shards of crustaceans and insects—in the form of balls or pellets, which are, indeed, very interesting objects, and both scientifically and as not leading to the extermination of the species, would make a far preferable collection to one of birds’ eggs. Let anyone who doubts this pick up upon some gull-haunted island a score or so of the curious little globes made of fragments of crab-shells cemented together, which lie all about, or some of the dried frog-pellets of owls, over a marsh. He must then—or he ought to—confess that such objects are more curious, if less pretty, than birds’ eggs—which, however, as ornaments, nobody values in the least—whilst by their very nature they teach us something in regard to the habits of each species, which the latter do not. The pellets of rooks, for instance, which I have found by the hundred, composed, some entirely of innutritious vegetable materials, and others (almost entirely) of earth, are most instructive from this point of view. In fact, the results and tendencies springing out of this kind of collecting would be wholly advantageous both to birds and to natural history; so that one of the most useful things that could be started in these “killing times” would be a club or fraternity of such collectors.[2]The nest is contained within the hanging leaves, which are its sole support—this, at least, is my impression. Now if the nest is madefirst, on what does it rest—where is it—before the leaves wrap it round?In thetout ensemblethe leaves correspond to the outer cup of the nest, and the nest proper to the inner lining. It is the latter which, in the ordinary building of a nest, comes last.[3]Particularly and most remarkably in the case of spiders. In one species, for instance, the males are of two patterns, as one may say, each of which dances before the female, in its own way, which is very different from that of the other (see Professor Poulton’sColours of Animalsin the “International Scientific Series”).[4]By Mr. Hudson inThe Naturalist in La Plata.[5]In South America at least.[6]This last, I should say, is as I imagine. Nobody tells one how the bridge itself gets over.[7]This floor, however, according to Professor Drummond, may be sunk considerably below the level of the ground, which would make it, more properly speaking, a basement.[8]In spite of the damage done by them, however, white ants, by turning over the soil, play an important part in the economy of nature, and take, in the tropics, the place of earthworms. See Professor Drummond’sTropical Africa.[9]Wanderings in South America, pp. 223-4.[10]Wanderings in South America.[11]They had been noticed long before Bates’ paper, which was later, if I mistake not, thanThe Origin of Species.[12]The Rev. J. G. Wood, inHomes without Hands, p. 301.[13]Were the pilot-fish to eat alone, he would not be under the shark’s protection.[14]From an old translation.[15]A Hunter’s Wanderings in Africa.[16]The gun is set with great exactitude and on a nice calculation, so that the fox, if shot at all, is shot in the head. He dies, therefore, suddenly, and without pain, whilst not expecting it—which some think the best kind of death.[17]The string must run, for a little way, behind the trigger (before passing round a stick) in order to start the gun: and it is this part of it that the fox gnaws. If we assume it to do so, as believing the trigger to be the part of the gun from which the discharge comes, still there are the two ideas—to gnaw the string, namely, thus preventing the discharge, and to get behind the trigger whilst gnawing it.[18]The word was used by the Portuguese in their great days, and may have come from a West Coast tribe. It is unknown, I believe, to the Kaffirs of South Africa.[19]Or, as we are toldnow, the palm of the hand.

FOOTNOTES

[1]Many birds are accustomed to eject the indigestible portions of their food—bones, fur, feathers, etc., or the shells and shards of crustaceans and insects—in the form of balls or pellets, which are, indeed, very interesting objects, and both scientifically and as not leading to the extermination of the species, would make a far preferable collection to one of birds’ eggs. Let anyone who doubts this pick up upon some gull-haunted island a score or so of the curious little globes made of fragments of crab-shells cemented together, which lie all about, or some of the dried frog-pellets of owls, over a marsh. He must then—or he ought to—confess that such objects are more curious, if less pretty, than birds’ eggs—which, however, as ornaments, nobody values in the least—whilst by their very nature they teach us something in regard to the habits of each species, which the latter do not. The pellets of rooks, for instance, which I have found by the hundred, composed, some entirely of innutritious vegetable materials, and others (almost entirely) of earth, are most instructive from this point of view. In fact, the results and tendencies springing out of this kind of collecting would be wholly advantageous both to birds and to natural history; so that one of the most useful things that could be started in these “killing times” would be a club or fraternity of such collectors.

[2]The nest is contained within the hanging leaves, which are its sole support—this, at least, is my impression. Now if the nest is madefirst, on what does it rest—where is it—before the leaves wrap it round?In thetout ensemblethe leaves correspond to the outer cup of the nest, and the nest proper to the inner lining. It is the latter which, in the ordinary building of a nest, comes last.

In thetout ensemblethe leaves correspond to the outer cup of the nest, and the nest proper to the inner lining. It is the latter which, in the ordinary building of a nest, comes last.

[3]Particularly and most remarkably in the case of spiders. In one species, for instance, the males are of two patterns, as one may say, each of which dances before the female, in its own way, which is very different from that of the other (see Professor Poulton’sColours of Animalsin the “International Scientific Series”).

[4]By Mr. Hudson inThe Naturalist in La Plata.

[5]In South America at least.

[6]This last, I should say, is as I imagine. Nobody tells one how the bridge itself gets over.

[7]This floor, however, according to Professor Drummond, may be sunk considerably below the level of the ground, which would make it, more properly speaking, a basement.

[8]In spite of the damage done by them, however, white ants, by turning over the soil, play an important part in the economy of nature, and take, in the tropics, the place of earthworms. See Professor Drummond’sTropical Africa.

[9]Wanderings in South America, pp. 223-4.

[10]Wanderings in South America.

[11]They had been noticed long before Bates’ paper, which was later, if I mistake not, thanThe Origin of Species.

[12]The Rev. J. G. Wood, inHomes without Hands, p. 301.

[13]Were the pilot-fish to eat alone, he would not be under the shark’s protection.

[14]From an old translation.

[15]A Hunter’s Wanderings in Africa.

[16]The gun is set with great exactitude and on a nice calculation, so that the fox, if shot at all, is shot in the head. He dies, therefore, suddenly, and without pain, whilst not expecting it—which some think the best kind of death.

[17]The string must run, for a little way, behind the trigger (before passing round a stick) in order to start the gun: and it is this part of it that the fox gnaws. If we assume it to do so, as believing the trigger to be the part of the gun from which the discharge comes, still there are the two ideas—to gnaw the string, namely, thus preventing the discharge, and to get behind the trigger whilst gnawing it.

[18]The word was used by the Portuguese in their great days, and may have come from a West Coast tribe. It is unknown, I believe, to the Kaffirs of South Africa.

[19]Or, as we are toldnow, the palm of the hand.

PLYMOUTH: WILLIAM BRENDON AND SONPRINTERS

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