far as they pertain to the means of life; their faculties are one, so far as they pertain to the animal polity, yet they may not be of a common stock.
The public mind does not seem to have grasped the correct idea of evolution, and prejudice has blinded, to some extent, the judgment. The common opinion that man has descended from or is related by consanguinity to a monkey is silly and absurd. Science has never taught such folly, nor advanced any theory from which such a conclusion could be justly deduced. It would be a waste of time for me to offer to explain the doctrine of evolution to any one who does not already understand it from the literature of others on this subject. If he still nurse the idol of the identity of man and monkey, he must be too obtuse or too perverse to be reclaimed. But no one will deny the physical resemblance between man and the great apes, and it is this resemblance we seek to show rather than trace any relationship based upon theories. It is not a matter that concerns the purpose of this work, and we shall here dismiss the subject by saying, that things may be equivalent and yet not identical.
CHAPTER II
CAGED IN AN AFRICAN JUNGLE
It may be of interest to the reader to know the manner in which I have pursued the study of monkeys in a state of nature, and the means employed to that end. I shall therefore give a brief outline of my life in a cage in the heart of an African jungle in order to watch those denizens of the forest, when free from all restraint.
After devoting much time for several years to the study of the speech and habits of monkeys in captivity, I formulated a plan of going into their native haunts, to study them in a state of freedom.
In the course of my labours up to that time, I had found out that monkeys of the highest physical type had also a higher type of speech than those of inferior kinds. In accord with this fact, it was logical to infer that the anthropoid apes, being next to man in the scale of nature, must have the faculty of speech developed in a corresponding degree.
As the chief object of my studies was to learn the language of monkeys, the great apes appeared to be the best subjects for that purpose, so I turned my attention to them.
The gorilla was said to be the most like man, and the chimpanzee next. There were none of the former in captivity, and but few of the latter, and they were kept under conditions that forbade all efforts to do anything in that line.
As the gorilla and chimpanzee could both be found in the same section of tropical Africa, I selected that as the field of operation, and began to prepare for a journey there to carry out the task I had assumed.
The part selected was along the equator, and south of it, about two degrees. The locality is infested with fevers, insects, serpents and wild beasts of divers kinds. To ignore such dangers would be folly, but there was no way to see these apes in their freedom, except to go and live among them.
To lessen, in a degree, the dangers incurred by such an adventure, I devised a cage of steel wire, woven into a lattice with a mesh one inch and a half wide. This was made in twenty-four panels, three feet three inches square, set in a frame of narrow iron strips. Each side of the panels was provided with half-hinges, so arranged as to fit any side of every other panel. These could be quickly bolted together with small iron rods, and, when so bolted, formed a cage of cubical shape, six feet six inches square.
Any one or more of the panels could be swung open as a door, and the whole structure was painted a dingy green, so that when erected in the forest it was almost invisible among the foliage.
While it was not strong enough to withstand a prolonged siege, it afforded a certain immunity from being surprised by the fierce and stealthy beasts of the jungle, and would allow the occupant time to kill an assailant before the wires would yield to an attack from anything except an elephant. Of course it was no protection against them, but as they rarely ever attack a man unless provoked to it, there was little danger from that source; besides, there were not many of those huge brutes in the immediate part in which my strange domicile was set up.
Through this open fabric one could see without obstruction on all sides, and yet feel a certain sense of safety from being devoured by leopards or panthers.
Over this frail fortress was a roof of bamboo leaves, and it was provided with curtains of canvas to be hung up in case of rain. The floor was of thin boards, steeped in tar, and the structure was set up about two feet from the ground, on nine small posts.
It was furnished with a bed, made of heavy canvas supported by two poles of bamboo, attached to the edge of it. One of these poles was lashed fast to the side of the cage, and the other was suspended at night by strong wire hooks, hung on the top of it. During the day, the bed was rolled up on one of the poles, so that it was out of the way. I had a light camp chair, which folded up, and a table was improvised by a broad, short board hung on wires. This could be set up by the wall of the cage at night, out of the way. To this meagre outfit was added a small kerosene stove, and a swinging shelf.
A few tin cases contained my wearing apparel, blanket, pillow, photograph camera and supplies, medicines, and an ample store of canned meats, crackers, &c. A magazine rifle, revolver, ammunition, and a few useful tools, such as a hammer, saw, pliers, files, and a heavy bush-knife, completed my stock, except some tin platters, cups and spoons. These served in cooking, and also for the table, instead of dishes.
With this equipment I sailed from New York on the 9th of July 1892, viâ England, to the port of Gaboon, the site of the colonial government of the French Congo. This place is within a few miles of the equator, and near the borders of the country in which the gorilla lives. I arrived there on the 18th of October of the same year, and after a delay of a few weeks I set out to find the object of my search.
Leaving this place, I went up the Ogowe River about two hundred miles, and through the lake region on the south side of it. After some weeks of travel and inquiry, I arrived at the lake of Ferran Vaz, in the territory of the Nkami tribe. The lake is about thirty miles long, by eight or ten wide, and interspersed with a few islands of large size, covered with a dense growth of tropical vegetation. The country around the lake is mostly low and marshy, traversed by creeks, lagoons and rivers. Most of the land is covered by a deep and dreary jungle, with a few sandy plains at intervals.
In the depths of this gloomy forest, reeking with the effluvia of decaying plants, and teeming with insect life, the gorilla dwells in safety and seclusion. In the same forest the chimpanzee makes his abode, but is less timid and retiring.
On the south side of this lake, not quite two degrees below the equator, and within some twenty miles of the ocean, I selected a place in the heart of the primeval forest, erected my little fortress, and gave it the name of Fort Gorilla.
In the latter part of April 1893, I took up my abode in this desolate spot, and began my long and solitary vigil.
My sole companion was a young chimpanzee, that I named Moses, and, from time to time, a native boy, as a servant.
Seated in this cage, in the silence of the great forest, I have seen the gorilla in all his majesty, strolling at leisure through his sultry domain, in quest of food. I have seen the chimpanzee under like conditions, and the happy, chattering monkey in the freedom of his jungle home.
In this novel hermitage I remained for the greater part of the time for one hundred and twelve days and nights in succession, watching these animals in perfect freedom following the pursuits of their daily life.
With such an experience, I will not be charged with vanity in saying that I have seen more of those animals in a state of nature than any white man ever saw, and under conditions more favourable for a careful study of their manners and habits, than could otherwise be possible. Hence, what I have to say concerning them is the result of an experience which no other man can claim.
I do not mean to ignore or impugn what others have said on this subject, but the sum of my labours in this field leads me to doubt much that has been said and accepted as true. I regret that it devolves upon me to controvert many stories told about these great apes, but finding no germ of truth in some of them, I cannot evade the duty of denying them. I regret it all the more, because many of them have been woven into the fabric of natural history, and marked with the seal of scientific approval; but time will sustain me in the denial.
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