A very popular scene at exhibitions of performing animals is that in which a number of monkeys are seated around a table, spread for a feast. Two or three monkeys personate waiters and bring in, first candles, and then in succession the various courses, really consisting of things suited to monkey stomachs, but considered by theatrical license to be the customary viands of a grand feast. Bottles of water-wine conclude the repast. This is actually one of the simplest things for the trainer to accomplish. The guests being tied in their high chairs, their little bibs pinned around their necks, the only farther trouble with them is to keep them from fighting or stealing each other’s rations. The waiters bringing in the things, especially the lighted candles, look very pretty and very intelligent. This part is taught by having two strings attached to the monkey. The end of one of these strings is held by the trainer, the end of the other by an assistant off the stage. The assistant places an article in the monkey’s paw and slacks up his line, while the trainer hauls in on his, and by this very simple arrangement, first one and then the other hauling, the monkey learns to make the passage to and from the stage. Should he drop his load before reaching the person to whom he is traveling, a long whip-lash reminds him of his mistake, and the article is replaced in his hand, or he kept by it until he picks it up. It doesn’t take long to teach him that when he is given an article by one of his “workers” he is to take it to the other, and then the strings may be dispensed with, though a fine but strong twine is sometimes used even in public exhibitions, and we recall one occasion at a New York theater where the waiter got the twine entangled in some impediment and was held midway till released by the exhibitor. Though the twine could not be seen by the audience, the cause of the difficulty was too obvious to be mistaken, and some rather sarcastic applause was bestowed. On another occasion, in a neighboring city, we witnessed a squabble among the monkey guests, a general clawing and biting, ending with the upsetting of the chairs and the scampering off of the monkeys with chairs “hitched on behind.”
The “drill exercise,” performed with a little musket, which the monkey fires off at the close, is a common but always popular exhibition. Any one who has seen a green recruit “put through” by the drill-sergeant can form a pretty correct idea of the method of training pursued in the case of the monkey. The instructor takes the required positions himself, using his whip in lieu of a musket, giving the word of command as he does so. Until the monkey understands these orders the trainer places his musket in the right position for him whenever he fails to do it himself. In case of willful disobedience or obstinacy, the whip is restored to its primary use, while good conduct is rewarded with equal promptness.
Sham fights are sometimes arranged for a number of monkeys. In this performance each monkey is taught his particular part, and rehearses it with the trainer till thoroughly familiar with it; then each monkey rehearses with the one with whom he is to act, until, as all become perfect in their parts, the whole act together. In rehearsing the monkeys perform each action at the word of command, being called by name. The mimicry natural in monkeys has here to be checked, otherwise the performance would be thrown into confusion by each copying the other’s acts. The monkeys are, therefore, punished for any movement without orders, or for responding when another’s name is called.
To be trained successfully, monkeys must be taken when young, and the degree of docility and intelligence varies greatly with different species. The entellus monkey, a slender and graceful native of the Indian Archipelago, whose light fur makes a strong contrast with its black face and extremities, exhibits great gentleness and playfulness when young, but these traits change, as it becomes older, to distrust and listless apathy, and, finally, it becomes as mischievous as others who have never displayed any particular indications of good temper.
Some varieties seem to possess the ability to actually plan and carry out quite complicated operations, which, in a state of nature, are as remarkable as any of their performances in captivity. The mottled baboons display this in their robberies of the orchards of their native country. A part enter the enclosure, while one is set to watch, and the remainder of the party form a line outside the fence, reaching from their companions within to their rendezvous in the neighboring woods. The plunderers in the orchard throw the fruit to the first member of this line, who throws it to the next, and so it is passed along until it reaches headquarters, where it is safely concealed. All the time this is being done the utmost silence is maintained, and their sentinel keeps a sharp lookout. Should any one approach he gives a loud cry, at which signal the whole company scamper off, though always taking a load of fruit in their retreat, if possible, in their mouths, under their arms, and in their hands. If hotly pursued this is dropped piecemeal, but only when absolutely necessary to enable them to escape.
As the disposition varies with different species, so also must the system of training. While one will require considerable severity, another can be made to perform only by being well treated and liberally rewarded. Once at the old Broadway theater, in New York, a very celebrated monkey stopped in the middle of a tight-rope performance and refused to continue. His master threatened, scolded, and finally flogged him very thoroughly, but he only jabbered and howled, and could not be made to finish his performance; his master ending by taking him in his arms and carrying him off the stage.
Many monkeys have a great liking for strong drink, and this weakness is frequently taken advantage of by other trainers to induce them to perform; a bribe of a little liquor often proving a more powerful incentive than anything else. A mandril, who, at one time, created considerable excitement in London, where he was exhibited under the title of “Happy Jerry,” was a remarkable example of monkey devotedness to the rosy god. Gin and water was his besetting weakness, and to obtain it he would make any sacrifice or perform anything within the bounds of possibility. In some instances sugar brandy-drops are used in public exhibitions as rewards, though this is done sparingly.
Besides these weaknesses of appetite, to which their trainers appeal, monkeys have a fondness for petting. Jardine mentions one of the shooloch species who was particularly pleased with caresses. He would lie down and allow his head to be combed and the long hair of his arms to be brushed, and seemed delighted with the tickling sensation produced by the brush on his belly and legs. Turning from side to side, he would first hold out one limb and then the other.
BABOON FINDING WATER ROOTS.