Isidore Geoffrey St. Hilaire relates of another individual of this genus, that “it distinguished between different objects depicted on an engraving. M. Audouin showed it the portraits of a cat and a wasp; at these it became very much terrified; whereas, at the sight of a figure of a grasshopper or beetle, it precipitated itself on the picture, as if to seize the objects there represented.”
Bates mentions another rare species of the same genus, first described by Humboldt, which was, if possible, more playful and intelligent than any of the preceding. “This rare and beautiful little monkey is only seven inches in length, exclusive of the tail. It is named leoninus, on account of the long brown mane which depends from the neck, and which gives it very much the appearance of a diminutive lion. In the house where it was kept it was familiar with every one; its greatest pleasure seemed to be to climb about the bodies of different persons who entered. The first time I went in, it ran across the room straight-way to the chair on which I had sat down, and climbed up to my shoulder; arrived there, it turned round and looked into my face, showing its little teeth, and chattering as though it would say, ‘Well, and how do you do?’ It showed more affection toward its master than toward strangers, and would climb up to his head a dozen times in the course of an hour, making a great show every time of searching there for certain animalcula.”
The same writer describes the ingenious mode of obtaining live specimens, as practised by Indian hunters. “The mother, as in other species of the monkey order, carries her young on her back. Individuals are obtained alive by shooting them with the blow-pipe and arrows tipped with diluted urarí poison. They run a considerable distance after being pierced, and it requires an experienced hunter to track them. He is considered the most expert who can keep pace with a wounded one, and catch it in his arms when it falls exhausted. A pinch of salt, the antidote to the poison, is then put in its mouth, and the creature revives.”
As I write this in the quiet seclusion of the country, I hear among the trees surrounding one of the finest mansions in Connecticut, the twittering chatter of another little monkey, or marmoset, a tití of the coast of Cartagena, which I procured from hence not long ago. It is quite small, of a reddish-brown color, with a face resembling more an African negro (for it is jet black) than the aborigines of the opposite coast. A thick woolly coat of white hair covers its head, so that at a distance the little creature looks as if ornamented with a cap of snow-white feathers. Enjoying with myself the freedom of the hospitable mansion, it is allowed to roam at pleasure among the branches of the trees, but as the sun goes down, it invariably seeks the comforts of its bed, prepared by its kind mistress, inside a market-basket in her own room. Monito—this is its name—is an early riser, which makes it rather inconvenient for the other inmates of the room; for, although the windows are left open through the night, it will not stir until its breakfast has been placed before the little scamp, who, in the meantime, keeps such squealing and twittering as to rouse “Nini” and her mamma. Its hunger satisfied, it bounds away to the tree-tops, leaping from branch to branch with astonishing agility, which never fails to attract a crowd of squirrels, which, mistaking it for one of their tribe, run towards the stranger; but no sooner do they perceive the jetty phyz and snowy locks of Don Monito, than, with one yell of astonishment, and the utmost horror depicted in their countenance, they scamper off to a respectable distance. Then follows a sort of inquiring colloquy between both parties, all chatting at the same time, and making the air resound all the while with the chirping palaver. It does not get beyond this, however, for, at the first advance made on either side, one of the parties, or both, scamper off ingloriously, thus verifying the saying—
“He who fights and runs away
Lives to fight another day.”
Not satisfied with the abundant fare of spiders caught around the roof, Monito comes regularly to the house at certain hours, to be fed on more dainty food, consisting of bits of sugar, cake, and delicious grapes, fresh from the grapery, which the thoughtful ladies of the mansion have in readiness for their guest. At times it pays a visit to the laundress, at her establishment, for whom it has evinced a strong attachment, owing, I suspect, to the fact that said dame invariably treats the favorite to a good slice of bread and butter, of which it seems to be very fond also. Selecting a comfortable place in some corner of the room, it spends an hour or so chatting to the worthy laundress all the while in a language only intelligible to itself. I fear, however, that the country air of a northern climate does not quite agree with the little South-American, for it has been observed, at times, in the morning, shaking from head to foot, and seeking some convenient place on the roof of the piazza, where it can have the full benefit of the sun’s rays, a sure sign of a coming attack of chills and fever. This circumstance, and the fact of its having become more irritable and morose than usual, has induced me to procure, from a friend in town, another small monkey, in whose company it came from South America, although of a different species, to see if the presence of its former associate will restore its spirits; but to no purpose, for, after a fair trial, we find that the attentions of this last, which is a most restless and mischievous creature, pulling the invalid’s tail and silvery tufts of hair, whenever they are brought together, instead of proving a comfort to Monito, throws it into violent fits.
The monkey in question is the cari-blanco, white-faced, of the River Sinu, a higher grade of ape than the marmosets, and is, in consequence, one of the most intelligent individuals of the family. It is really entertaining to see such a small creature aping childhood so well as to amuse itself and the rest of the family whose hospitality it enjoys, with a doll and some marbles which it stole from the baby; and one of the ladies having shown it a musical toy, which she blew to attract its notice, the mimicking creature at once snatched the toy from her hand, and immediately applied it to its mouth, endeavoring to produce the same sounds, although without effect; whereupon it tried a like experiment on the doll—which it carries constantly under its arm—but with no better results. Another source of amusement is derived from a kitten belonging to the baby, the sight of which produced at first as much astonishment and curiosity as the interview between Monito and the squirrels brought about. Now they are as good friends as if they had known each other a lifetime; so much so that the baby finds it difficult to separate her pussy from the dreaded monkey, which “Nini” abominates ever since Monito bit her badly, for want of experience on her part in dealing with these spiteful creatures.
It is a fact worthy of notice, that most monkeys, especially those of a higher grade, manifest on all occasions a strong attachment to young animals, especially puppies and kittens, caressing and handling them with the same care that a human being bestows on the young of their own kind. I once obtained, in Costa Rica, a large female monkey of the ring-tail species, which, in intelligence and monerias (monkey tricks) surpassed any creature of this description I have yet seen or heard of; so much so that Herr Müller, a German baker of San José, who owned the pet, had given her the name of “Panchita,” or Little Frances; and so captivated was I too by Miss Panchita, that I at once entered into negotiations with the baker for her purchase. But of this more hereafter in the Second Series of these sketches.
Well, said Panchita was, like the rest of her class, particularly fond of puppies; but not possessing sufficient discrimination to distinguish between the ages of animals, and judging of this only through their size, she seized, on one occasion, a small poodle, which happened to pass near her, mistaking it for a puppy, and pressing it to her breast with appropriate demonstrations of motherly solicitude, endeavored to induce the dog to avail itself of the proffered donation; but a bite from the ungrateful chap warned the would-be nurse of the dangers arising from too close an intimacy with strangers. Poor Panchita! Having brought her along with me to New York, and placed her in Barnum’s celebrated boarding-school for dumb beasts from all parts of the world, she shared the fate of the “Happy Family” during the disastrous fire which consumed that renowned establishment.
As an instance of the affection and intelligence displayed by these singular creatures, I will mention here another South American monkey, from the Upper Amazon river, of which the indefatigable collector of natural history, Mr. Bates, says, alluding to one possessed by a neighbor of his at Ega: “My friend was a tailor, and the little pet used to spend the greater part of the day seated on his shoulder, while he was at work on his board. It showed, nevertheless, great dislike to strangers, and was not on good terms with any other member of my friend’s household than himself, I saw no monkey that showed so strong a personal attachment as this gentle, timid, silent little creature. The eager and passionate Cebi seem to take the lead of all South American monkeys in intelligence and docility, and the Coaitá has perhaps the most gentle and impressive disposition; but the Parauacú, although a dull, cheerless animal, excels all in this quality of capacity of attachment to individuals of our own species. It is not wanting in intelligence as well as moral goodness, proof of which was furnished one day by an act of our little pet. My neighbor had quitted his house in the morning, without taking Parauacú with him, and the little creature having missed its friend, and concluded, as it seemed, that he would be sure to come to me, both being in the habit of paying me a daily visit together, came straight to my dwelling, taking a short cut over gardens, trees, and thickets, instead of going the roundabout way of the street. It had never done this before, and we knew the route it had taken only from a neighbor having watched its movements. On arriving at my house, and not finding its master, it climbed to the top of my table, and sat with an air of quiet resignation waiting for him. Shortly afterwards my friend entered, and the gladdened pet then jumped to its usual perch on his shoulder.”