On the Apemen, and the Errors of a Human Standard

The Apeman presents a peculiar difficulty to comparative physiology: his resemblance to ourselves encourages the observer to dispense with comparison. A Human examiner recognises a familiar arrangement of features, supplies familiar intentions, and enters the result under observation. I have examined several such reports; their principal contribution is to the natural history of the examiner. The resemblance is nevertheless substantial and deserves investigation. Corresponding bones occupy corresponding positions; the teeth and many of the muscles admit of close comparison. Whether these agreements establish common descent remains unresolved. A pedigree requires evidence which a likeness, however arresting, cannot by itself supply, and I shall leave the vacant branches of the genealogical tree vacant until someone brings me more than enthusiasm to hang upon them.

The most consequential differences concern proportion and the distribution of muscular effort. An Apeman’s arms bear a larger share in ordinary locomotion than a Human’s, while his trunk is habitually carried farther forward. He can stand erect and walk upon his hind limbs, but prolonged upright walking exacts a considerable expenditure of effort. At the North Quay works I found this capacity being tested by requiring Apeman applicants to carry a sack along a passage without allowing a hand to touch the floor. The superintendent called it a test of soundness; I called it a test of conformity to the superintendent, whose own soundness would scarcely have survived an equivalent examination upon his knuckles. At my insistence the applicants repeated the task using their customary gait and a differently secured load. Two who had been rejected completed it comfortably. The practical conclusion concerns the arrangement of work: a low passage, a badly placed handle or an insistence upon erect attendance may manufacture an incapacity which the employer then attributes to the worker.

Their strength is considerable, although published estimates commonly have the agreeable freedom from measurement of a travelling menagerie’s handbill. Force exerted in pulling cannot be transferred without qualification to lifting, and a brief maximum effort tells us little about a day’s labour. Comparisons with the Aesir are especially loose, since reach, bodily mass and the direction of exertion alter the result. In the trials I supervised, Apemen excelled at drawing a resisting load towards the body; the Aesir participants had an advantage when placing it upon a high platform. Neither result authorises a universal table of strength. The Apeman hand also deserves attention beyond its power. Its broad palm and stout fingers permit fine adjustments of pressure, particularly when an object is held against a firm surface. I have watched an Apeman instrument-maker detect a burr in a valve seating which my own finger failed to discover. The subsequent escape of steam settled our disagreement with unnecessary publicity.

Such dexterity does not make every implement equally serviceable. Tools made for Gremlin fingers, Dwarven palms or the longer reach of an Elf impose different inconveniences upon Apeman users, just as they do upon one another. Among the Apemen of the upper Issel I found carving tools fitted with thick, flattened grips, which could be steadied against the heel of the hand. Apprentices first learnt to judge the grain by touch, working with blunt pieces before receiving an edge. When I suggested that this delayed useful instruction, the master put a covered timber before me and invited me to identify its grain. I withdrew the objection. The sequence trained a discrimination upon which safe cutting depended, and I had condemned it before asking what it was for.

Communication requires a similar discipline: movements of the shoulders, the inclination of the trunk and small alterations in the position of the head may carry distinctions which a Human visitor does not perceive. Their meaning also depends upon the preceding exchange and the relations of those present; a chart of isolated postures is therefore an imperfect aid. During my first visit to the Issel I interpreted a male’s repeated turning aside as permission to approach a damaged water-wheel. Our guide, Sella, barred my way. I objected that the animal, my word at the time, and an instructive one, had plainly yielded the space. She answered that he was asking me to leave it. Subsequent enquiry supported her account. I had mistaken the absence of an attack for the presence of consent. Researchers have been killed through errors of this kind, and their deaths provide no licence to describe the survivors as treacherous.

Symbolic communication offers evidence that can be recorded more readily, though it remains vulnerable to generous interpretation. Some trained Apemen employ signs in combinations they have never been taught. This establishes productive use beyond the repetition of a fixed performance; the extent of the underlying capacities must be investigated separately. I rejected Professor Orrick’s first demonstrations because the attendant knew which object the Apeman was expected to request. Orrick considered this distrustful. We subsequently concealed the object from the attendant, varied its position and retained a written account of unsuccessful trials. Several reported accomplishments disappeared, but others survived, including novel combinations that distinguished a damaged vessel from an intact vessel containing damaged fruit. Orrick deserves credit for accepting the revised procedure. His evidence became sufficiently good to oblige me to revise my published judgement, a service for which I thanked him with greater sincerity than he appeared to expect.

Their lasting attachments, instruction of the young and reconciliation after quarrels belong in any adequate account of Apeman society. Grief following a death may interrupt feeding and ordinary work; companions sometimes remain near the bereaved, sharing food without the usual solicitation. Customs differ between communities, and I would resist making every observed practice hereditary. Human habits would produce a preposterous physiology if treated with equal confidence. Comparison across the sapient peoples is useful precisely when it distinguishes bodily capacity, acquired skill and local expectation. Their resemblance to Humans raises good questions. Answering them needs measurements and attention suited to Apemen, and examiners prepared to find that the difficulty sometimes lies on their own side of the table.