Authors generally seem to think that the monkey race are not capable of retaining lasting impressions; but their memory is remarkably tenacious when striking events call it into action.
One that in his zeal for imitation had swallowed the entire contents of a pill-box—the cathartics, fortunately, were not Morisonian—suffered so much, that ever afterwards the production of such a box sent him to his hiding-place in a twinkling.
Another that was permitted to run free had frequently seen the men-servants in the great country kitchen, with its huge fireplace, take down a powder-horn that stood on the chimney-piece, and throw a few grains into the fire, to make Jemima and the rest of the maids jump and scream, which they always did on such occasions very prettily. Pug watched his opportunity, and when all was still, and he had the kitchen entirely to himself, he clambered up, got possession of the well-filled powder-horn, perched himself very gingerly on one of the horizontal wheels placed for the support of saucepans, right over the waning ashes of an almost extinct wood-fire, screwed off the top of the horn, and reversed it over the grate.
The explosion sent him half-way up the chimney. Before he was blown up he was a smug, trim, well-conditioned monkey as you would wish to see on a summer’s day: he came down a carbonadoed nigger in miniature, in an avalanche of burning soot. The à plomb with which he pitched upon the hot ashes in the midst of the general flare-up aroused him to a sense of his condition. He was missing for days. Hunger at last drove him forth, and he sneaked into the house close-singed, begrimed, and looking scared and devilish. He recovered with care, but, like some other great personages, he never got over his sudden elevation and fall, but became a sadder if not a wiser monkey. If ever pug forgot himself and was troublesome, you had only to take down a powder-horn in his presence, and he was off to his hole like a shot, screaming and clattering his jaws like a pair of castanets.
Le Vaillant, in his African travels, was accompanied by an ape, which lived on very good terms with the cocks and hens, showing, in defiance of the legend, no antipathy to the former, and a strong penchant for the latter, for whose cacklings he listened, and whose eggs he stole. But this and other peccadillos were amply atoned for by the bonhommie and other good qualities of Kees, for that was the name of the traveller’s ape, which seems to have almost realised the virtues of Philip Quarl’s monkey.
“An animal,” says Le Vaillant in his first voyage, just after speaking of the benefits that he derived from his gallant chanticleer, “that rendered me more essential services; which, by its useful presence, suspended and even dissipated certain bitter and disagreeable reflections that occurred to my mind, which by its simple and striking instinct seemed to anticipate my efforts, and which comforted me in my languor—was an ape, of that kind so common at the Cape, under the name of Bawians. As it was extremely familiar, and attached itself to me in a particular manner, I made it my taster. When we found any fruit or roots unknown to my Hottentots, we never touched them until my dear Kees had first tasted them: if it refused them we judged them to be either disagreeable or dangerous, and threw them away.
“An ape has one peculiarity which distinguishes it from all other animals, and brings it very near to man. It has received from nature an equal share of greediness and curiosity: though destitute of appetite, it tastes without necessity every kind of food that is offered to it; and always lays its paw upon everything it finds within its reach.
“There was another quality in Kees which I valued still more. He was my best guardian; and whether by night or by day he instantly awoke on the least sign of danger. By his cries, and other expressions of fear, we were always informed of the approach of an enemy before my dogs could discover it: they were so accustomed to his voice that they slept in perfect security, and never went the rounds; on which account I was extremely angry, fearing that I should no longer find that indispensable assistance which I had a right to expect, if any disorder or fatal accident should deprive me of my faithful guardian. However, when he had once given the alarm, they all stopped to watch the signal; and on the least motion of his eyes, or shaking of his head, I have seen them all rush forward, and scamper away in the quarter to which they observed his looks directed.
“I often carried him along with me in my hunting excursions, during which he would amuse himself in climbing up trees, in order to search for gum, of which he was remarkably fond. Sometimes he discovered honey in the crevices of rocks, or in hollow trees; but when he found nothing, when fatigue and exercise had whetted his appetite, and when he began to be seriously oppressed by hunger, a scene took place which to me appeared extremely comic. When he could not find gum and honey he searched for roots, and ate them with much relish; especially one of a particular species, which, unfortunately for me, I found excellent and very refreshing, and which I greatly wished to partake of. But Kees was very cunning: when he found any of this root, if I was not near him to claim my part, he made great haste to devour it, having his eyes all the while directed towards me. By the distance I had to go before I could approach him, be judged of the time he had to eat it alone; and I, indeed, arrived too late. Sometimes, however, when he was deceived in his calculation, and when I came upon him sooner than he expected, he instantly endeavoured to conceal the morsels from me; but by means of a blow well applied I compelled him to restore the theft; and in my turn becoming master of the envied prey, he was obliged to receive laws from the stronger party. Kees entertained no hatred or rancour; and I easily made him comprehend how detestable that base selfishness was of which he had set me an example.”
This is all very fine, but we confess that we think poor Kees hardly used in this matter; nor are we aware of any law, written or unwritten, human or Simian, by which the conversion of the root, which he had sagaciously found, to his own use could be made a theft, or by which the prize could be ravished from him, except, indeed, by the “good old law” that “sufficeth” people in such cases—