Facts and Fancies of Speech—Language in the Vegetable Kingdom—Language in the Mineral Kingdom.

In the early part of this work I have recorded the material and tangible facts with which I have dealt, and have not departed from such facts to formulate a theory beyond a working hypothesis. I have not allowed myself to be transported into the realm of fancy, nor have I claimed for my work anything which lies beyond the bounds of proof. But in the wide range through which I have sought for the first hint of speech, it is only natural that many theories have suggested themselves to me from time to time, some of which would appear almost like the dreams of hasheesh. But while they are like the fairyland of speculation, they are not more wild and incoherent than are many of the dogmas of metaphysics. And at this point I shall digress from my text so far as to say that I have followed the motives of language through the higher planes of life and thence downward to the very sunrise to the vegetable kingdom, and on through the dim twilight across the mineral world to that point where elemental matter is first delivered from the hands of force. Standing upon the elevated plane of human development, it is difficult for man to stoop to the level of those inferior forms from which he is so far removed in all his faculties; but if his senses could be made so delicate as to discern the facts, he would find perhaps that in the polity of life all horizons are equidistant from each other. But looking back from where he stands, his powers fail to reach the real point of vital force at which all life began, and his contracted senses bring the vanishing point of this perspective far into the foreground of the facts.

From the highest type of human speech to the feeblest hint of expression there is a gradual descent, and at no point between these two extremes can there be drawn a line at which it may be said "here one begins, and here another ends." The same is true of other faculties; and from the vital centre at which matter first receives the touch of life to the circumference of the vital sphere, all powers radiate alike, and there is no point that I can find between that centre and infinity at which some new endowment intercepts the line.

Descending the scale of life by long strides, from man to the lowest form of zooids, we cannot designate the point at which a faculty is first imparted to the form which has it, and this truth extends throughout the vital cosmos.

The line of demarcation which separates the animal and vegetable is but a wavering, blended mezzotint, and the highest forms of vegetable life seem to overlap the lowest forms of animal, so far that no dividing line is positively fixed. The highest types of vegetable seem to have the faculty of expression in a degree corresponding to, and in harmony with, the rest of their organism. I do not mean to say that the impulse under which a plant acts is synonymously with that which prompts the animal, but both appear to be the effect of the same cause.

In some forms of vegetation the selection of food of certain kinds and the aversion to other certain kinds, would indicate that the organism is capable of design and purpose in a degree perhaps much higher than some of the lowest forms of the animal kingdom. The reaching out of roots in search of food in the earth, the opening and closing of leaf and bloom, seeking the moisture and carbon from the atmosphere, suggest a feeble expression of desire. The choice of food is so well defined in some plants as to indicate a power of selection far greater than some protozoans exercise. It is a known fact that a change of food and conditions often modify a plant in such degree as to make it difficult to recognise except by the technical laws of classification, and yet its identity is not lost. Such changes do not effect all plants in the same degree, as some of them will undergo a change of diet or conditions without material effect. In many instances a marked dislike to certain kinds of food has been observed, and the sensitiveness of some plants is shown in the foliage, bloom, and even in the roots.

In passing from the vegetable to the mineral kingdom, we find a like diffusion of types overlapping and blending into each other. Some forms of vegetation are so low in the scale of organism as to make it difficult to say whether they are vegetable or mineral compounds. Of course we find no trace of speech, but there is that hint of expression or suggestion of desire as found in the vegetable kingdom. In the chemical world one element will select another with which it will combine, while to other elements it shows a great aversion. When one chemical element selects another and combines with it we call this chemical affinity. The ultimate force which causes this affinity is one of the unknown facts concerning matter; but it is possible that such affinities and aversions constitute the basis upon which rests the selections and aversions of plants and animals. But as we rise in the scale the combinations of matter become more complex and the functions of each part more specific. It is possible, when we become more familiar with the forces of Nature, that we shall find that affinity and repulsion are but the positive and negative poles of the forces which act on matter; that chemical, vegetable and animal activity are based upon the same fundamental causes, and that speech, which is only one form of expression, is the highest product of such an ultimate force, but in all conditions of matter, such forces, either positive or negative, are the ultimate motives of expression.

As chemical formulas differ from each other without losing the identity of their elements which constitute them, so animal organisms and plant forms differ as the spheres of life to which they are assigned differ. It is possible that chemical affinity may be the germ from which all language springs, as the chemical elements are the materials from which all compounds are built up. The vitalisation of matter itself, and the arrangement of the ultimate particles which constitute a living body, are the work of the vital force in a polarised condition. This will account, in a measure, for all the individuals of one type selecting one mode of expression, as they select or conform to one physical outline. In every rank of life there seems to be some intuitive mode of expression which suggest itself to all the individuals of that kind when they desire, under the same conditions, to express the same thing. The exceptions to this law of expression increase in number as we rise in the scale of life, and the means of expression increase and widen and the faculty of thought enlarges. The laws of chemical affinity are rigid and uncompromising, and there are but few exceptions in them, and only marked changes of condition can modify the results. As we ascend even in the mineral kingdom to the higher compounds we find a wider range of variation; and as we continue our ascent through the vegetable world, we find the same, and on through animals to the highest type. In the lower planes types are more strictly adhered to, habits and food more rigidly observed, while among the highest types of cultivated plants we find a great diversity of fruit and bloom, the capability of transplanting and the creation of new species, without losing the generic identity of the plant or even making it questionable. In the animal kingdom the same law is complied with; and step by step as we ascend the same types show greater and greater diversity, until we reach man—the climax of all life, and within his genus, variation knows no bound.

In conclusion, I may say that man as he now is has the faculty of speech. It is reasonable to believe that he has always had this faculty since he was man. If there has ever been a time in the history of his organism when he acquired his being from some progenitor which was not man, he acquired at the same time the faculty of speech, and that progenitor did not impart a thing which he did not have. While it is true that speech, as I have used it, is confined to vocal sounds, other modes of expression have preceded it, and such has been a common faculty inherent through all forms and planes of life. I am aware that two ingredients combined may make a compound unlike either one, and such may be the case with speech, but the elements which constitute the compound must have been for ever present.