The only abstract thing that his keeper has tried to teach him is to select from 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 with very few mistakes the letter asked for, and errors appear to result from indifference rather than from ignorance.
Consul is very fond of play, and he 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 ape 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 he 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 so, and on every occasion he shows his dislike for the ape. The latter 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 for a long time and without apparent fatigue.
Owing to the sudden changes of temperature in that part of England where he is kept, he is provided with a coat and is often required to wear it when going out of doors. He does not like to be hampered with such a garment, 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; these 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 a 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 humor 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 recognizes 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 burglarize 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 the key and has often tried it; 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 Bellevue Gardens at Manchester. He was playful and full of mischief. He had been taught to use a stick or broom in fight, and with such a weapon in his hand he would run all over the building, hunting some one to attack. He did not appear to be serious in his assault, but treated it as fun. It is a bad thing to teach to apes, because they grow pugnacious as they grow older, and all animals kept closely confined acquire a bad temper.
MR. CROWLEY, LATE OF THE NEW YORK ZOÖLOGICAL GARDEN
(Taken from Life.)
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 neighbor, but he obeyed 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.