the natives of these regions to the smaller of the two great Apes which inhabit them; so that there can be no rational doubt that Andrew Battell spoke of that which he knew of his own knowledge, or, at any rate, by immediate report from the natives of Western Africa. The “Engeco,” however, is that “other monster” whose nature Battell “forgot to relate,” while the name “Pongo”—applied to the animal whose characters and habits are so fully and carefully described—seems to have died out, at least in its primitive form and signification. Indeed, there is evidence that not only in Battell’s time, but up to a very recent date, it was used in a totally different sense from that in which he employs it.

For example, the second chapter of Purchas’ work, which I have just quoted, contains “A Description and Historicall Declaration of the Golden Kingdom of Guinea, &c. &c. Translated from the Dutch, and compared also with the Latin,” wherein it is stated (p. 986) that—

“The River Gaboon lyeth about fifteen miles northward from Rio de Angra, and eight miles northward from Cape de Lope Gonsalvez (Cape Lopez), and is right under the Equinoctial line, about fifteene miles from St. Thomas, and is a great land, well and easily to be knowne. At the mouth of the river there lieth a sand, three or foure fathoms deepe, whereon it beateth mightily with the streame which runneth out of the river into the sea. This river, in the mouth thereof, is at least four miles broad; but when you are about the Iland called Pongo, it is not above two miles broad.... On both sides the river there standeth many trees.... The Iland called Pongo, which hath a monstrous high hill.”

The French naval officers, whose letters are appended to the late M. Isidore Geoff. Saint Hilaire’s excellent essay on the Gorilla,[5] note in similar terms the width of the Gaboon, the trees that line its banks down to the water’s edge, and the strong current that sets out of it. They describe two islands in its estuary;—one low, called Perroquet; the other high, presenting three conical hills, called Coniquet; and one of them, M. Franquet, expressly states that, formerly, the Chief of Coniquet was called Meni-Pongo, meaning thereby Lord of Pongo; and that the N’Pongues (as, in agreement with Dr. Savage, he affirms the natives call themselves) term the estuary of the Gaboon itself N’Pongo.

It is so easy, in dealing with savages, to misunderstand their applications of words to things, that one is at first inclined to suspect Battell of having confounded the name of this region, where his “greater monster” still abounds, with the name of the animal itself. But he is so right about other matters (including the name of the “lesser monster”) that one is loth to suspect the old traveller of error; and, on the other hand, we shall find that a voyager of a hundred years’ later date speaks of the name “Boggoe,” as applied to a great Ape, by the inhabitants of quite another part of Africa—Sierra Leone.

Fig. 2.—The Orang of Tulpius, 1641.

But I must leave this question to be settled by philologers and travellers; and I should hardly have dwelt so long upon it except for the curious part played by this word “Pongo” in the later history of the man-like Apes.

The generation which succeeded Battell saw the first of the man-like Apes which was ever brought to Europe, or, at any rate, whose visit found a historian. In the third book of Tulpius’ “Observationes Medicæ,” published in 1641, the 56th chapter or section is devoted to what he calls Satyrus indicus, “called by the Indians Orang-autang, or Man-of-the-Woods, and by the Africans Quoias Morrou.” He gives a very good figure, evidently from the life, of the specimen of this animal, “nostra memoria ex Angolâ delatum,” presented to Frederick Henry Prince of Orange. Tulpius says it was as big as a child of three years old, and as stout as one of six years: and that its back was covered with black hair. It is plainly a young Chimpanzee.

In the meanwhile, the existence of other, Asiatic, man-like Apes became known, but at first in a very mythical fashion. Thus Bontius (1658) gives an altogether fabulous and ridiculous account and figure of an animal which he calls “Orang-outang”; and though he says, “vidi Ego cujus effigiem hic exhibeo,” the said effigies (see Fig. 6 for Hoppius’ copy of it) is nothing but a very hairy woman of rather comely aspect, and with proportions and feet wholly human. The judicious English anatomist, Tyson, was justified in saying of this description by Bontius, “I confess I do mistrust the whole representation.”

It is to the last mentioned writer, and his coadjutor Cowper, that we owe the first account of a man-like ape which has any pretensions to scientific accuracy and completeness. The treatise entitled, “Orang-outang, sive Homo Sylvestris; or the Anatomy of a Pygmie compared with that of a Monkey, an Ape, and a Man,” published by the Royal Society in 1699, is, indeed, a work of remarkable merit, and has, in some respects, served as a model to subsequent inquirers. This “Pygmie,” Tyson tells us, “was brought from Angola, in Africa; but was first taken a great deal higher up the country”; its hair “was of a coal-black colour, and strait,” and “when it went as a quadruped on all four, ’twas awkwardly; not placing the palm of the hand flat to the ground, but it walk’d upon its knuckles, as I observed it to do when weak and had not strength enough to support its body.”—“From the top of the head to the heel of the foot, in a strait line, it measured twenty-six inches.”