The Speech of Monkeys

Another little Macaque makes the most indescribable faces, and works her lips in that peculiar fashion which I have elsewhere described, but she does not utter one sound. She merely looks in silence, and never tries to find the monkey concealed behind the glass.

    THE SPIDER MONKEY

The spider monkey is a study worthy of great minds. When shown her image in the glass, she takes her seat on the floor, crosses her legs, and fixes herself as if she expected to spend the day there. She will then look into the glass and utter a low sound, and begin to reach out her long arms in search of the other monkey. It is surprising to see how she will adjust her reach as you change positions with the glass. Of course, as you remove the mirror from her the image is removed accordingly, and she extends or contracts her reach to suit that distance. This is not, however, an evidence of her mathematical skill, since to her mind the image is doubtless a real thing, and she is governed by the same instinct or judgment in reaching for it as she would be if it were real. More than any other, the spider monkey seems to admire herself in the glass; notwithstanding she is about the homeliest of all the Simian tribes, yet she will sit for hours in almost perfect silence, and gaze upon her image.

CHAPTER XV

Man and Ape – Their Physical Relations – Their Mental Relations – Evolution was the Means – Who was the Progenitor of the Ape? – The Scale of Life.

If we could free our hands from the manacles of tradition and stand aloof from our prejudices, and look the stern facts in the face, we should be compelled to admit that between man and ape there is such a unity of design, structure and function, that we dare not in the light of reason deny to the ape that rank in Nature to which he is assigned by virtue of these facts. Physiologically, there is no hiatus between man and ape which may not be spanned by such evidence as would be admitted under the strictest rules of interpretation. We may briefly compare these two creatures in a broad and general way, so that the unscientific and casual reader may comprehend.

    MAN AND APE

The skeleton of man is only the polished structure of which that of the ape is the rough model. The identity of the two, part by part, is as much the same as the light sulky is the outgrowth of the massive framework of the old-time cart. Whether man and ape are related by any ties of blood or not, it is evident that they were modelled on the same plan, provided with the same means, and designed for like purposes, whatever they may be. The organs of sensation and the functions which they discharge are the same in both, and the same external forces addressing themselves thereto produce the same results. I do not mean to say that the same organ in each is developed in the same degree as that in the other, for this is not the case even in different individuals of the same kind. In the muscular system of the one is found an exact duplicate of the other, except in such slight changes of model as will better adapt the parts to those conditions of life under which the animal having them may be placed, and through the whole physical structure of both we find that unity of part and purpose in structure and function, in bone, muscle, nerve, and brain. It has been shown beyond a reasonable doubt that the brain in the higher races of mankind has reached its present form through a series of changes which are constant and definite; and this organ in the lower types of man resembles more that of the ape than does the same organ in the higher types of man; and by a method of deduction, such as we use to determine the height of a tree or the width of a stream by the length of a shadow, we find that the fiducial lines which bound the planes in the perspective of man's cerebral growth, likewise embrace those of the ape. While it is a fact that the mind of man so far transcends that of the ape, it is also a fact that in reaching this condition it has passed through such planes as those now occupied by the ape. The physical changes of man's brain do not appear to keep pace with the growth of his mind. This may be a paradox, but the evidence upon which it rests is ample to sustain it.

    MAN AND APE

I do not pretend to know whether man was evolved from ape, or ape from man; whether they are congenetic products of a common authorship, or the masterpieces of two rival authors; but I cannot see in what respect man's identity would be affected, whatever may be the case. If it be shown that man descended from the ape, it does not change the facts which have existed from the beginning, nor does it change the destiny to which he is assigned. If it can be shown that apes descended from man, it does not leave upon man the censure for this degeneracy. If man has risen from the low plane of brutehood which the ape now occupies, has scaled the barriers which now separate him from apes, and has climbed to the divine heights of mental and moral manhood, the ape deserves no praise for this. On the other hand, if apes have fallen from the state of man, have wandered so far from the gates of light, and are now wandering in the twilight of intellect and degradation, it is no reproach to man; and while I shall not sit in judgment in the cause, nor testify on either side, I am willing to accept whatever verdict may be founded on the real facts, and I shall not appeal therefrom. But I shall not allow my prejudice to conceal the truth, whenever it is shown to me. It is always acceptable to my mind, and, stripped of all sophistry and oblique conditions, it would appear the same to every mind.

That evolution is the mode by which the world was peopled, there is little doubt, but there are many details yet unsettled as to the manner in which this was effected. I cannot regard the matter as proven beyond appeal that man has come from any antecedent type that was not man, nor yet do I deny that such may be the case; but I do deny that the broad chasm which separates man from other primates cannot be crossed on the bridge of speech; and while this does not prove their identity or common origin, it does show that Nature did not intend that either one should monopolise any gift which she had to bestow. It is as reasonable to believe that man has always occupied a sphere of life apart from that of apes, as to believe that apes have occupied a sphere of life apart from birds, except that the distance from centre to centre is greater between birds and apes than that distance between apes and man. So far as any fossil proofs contribute to our knowledge, we find no point at which the line is crossed in either case; and the earliest traces of man's physiological history find him distinctly man, and this history reaches back on meagre evidence many, many centuries before historic time. Among these earlier remains of man, we find no fossils of the Simian type to show that he existed at that time; but at a somewhat later period we find some remnants of the Simian type in deposits of Southern Europe; but they are of the smaller tribes, and have been assigned to the Macacus. We cannot trace the history of this genus from that to the present time to ascertain whether they were the progenitors of apes or not; but between this type and that of apes the hiatus is as broad as that which intervenes between the ape and man.

That somewhere in the lapse of time all genera began, admits of no debate; and by inversion it is plain that all generic outlines must focus at the point from which they first diverged, and such an operation does not indicate that man and Simian have ever been more closely allied than they are at the present time; but the evidence is clear that man has been evolved from a lower plane than he now occupies. The inference may be safely applied to apes, as progress is the universal law of life.

The question has been asked, "Who is the progenitor of man?" The solution of this problem has engaged the most profound minds of modern time. If it be said in reply that apes were the progenitors of man, the question then arises, "Who was the progenitor of the ape?" If it be said that man and ape had a common progenitor, a like question arises, and it becomes necessary to connect all types allied to each other as these two types are physically allied. If man is the climax of a great scheme in Nature by which one type is gradually transformed into another, we must descend the scale of life by crossing the chasm which lies between mankind and apes, another lying between the apes and monkeys, another between the monkeys and baboons, another between the baboons and lemurs, and yet another between the lemurs and the lemuroids, and thus from form to form like islands in the great sea of life. From man to infinity the question constantly recurs, and over each hiatus must be built a separate bridge.

    DARWIN'S PROFOUND WORK

Darwin has given to the world the most profound and conscientious work, and from the chaos and confusion of human ignorance and bigotry has erected the most sublime monuments of thought and truth. It does not detract from his character and honesty, nor lessen the value of his labours, to admit that he may have been mistaken in some conclusions which he deduced from the great store of facts at his command.

It is not the purpose of this work, however, to enter into a discussion of any theory aside from speech and its possible origin and growth, but all subjects pertaining to life, thought, and the modes of living and thinking, must contribute in some degree to a clear understanding of the subject in hand.

    DARWIN'S SIN OF OMISSION

It has been a matter of surprise to me that so careful and observant a man as Mr. Darwin should have so nearly omitted the question of speech from a work of such ample scope, such minute detail, and such infinite care as characterises the "Descent of Man," and such like works. But science will cheerfully forgive an error, and pardon the sin of omission in one who has given to the world so much good.

CHAPTER XVI

The Faculty of Thought – Emotion and Thought – Instinct and Reason – Monkeys Reason – Some Examples.

The study of biology has revealed many facts which conspire to show that the incipient forms of animal and vegetable life are the same in those two great kingdoms; and parallel with this fact, I think it can be shown that the faculty of expression goes hand in hand with life. And why should not this be the case? From the standpoint of religion, I cannot see why the bounty of God should not be equal to such a gift, nor can I conceive of a more sublime act of universal justice than that all things endowed with thought, however feeble, should be endowed with the power of expressing it. From the standpoint of evolution, I cannot understand by what rule Nature would have worked to develop the emotions, sensations, and faculties alike in all these various forms, and make this one exception in the case of speech. It does not seem in keeping with her laws. From the standpoint of chance, I cannot see why such an accident might not have occurred at some other point in the scale of life, or why such anomalies are not more frequent. Man appears to be the only one. From any point of view we take, it does not seem consistent with other facts. All other primates think and feel, and live and die under like conditions and on like terms with man; then why should he alone possess the gift of speech?

    FACULTY OF THOUGHT

I confess that such an inference is not evidence, however logical; but I have many facts to offer in proof that speech is not possessed by man alone. It is quite difficult to draw the line at any given point between the process of thought and those phenomena we call emotions. They merge into and blend with each other like the colours in light, and in like manner the faculty of speech, receding through the various modes of expression, is for ever lost in the haze and distance of desire. The faculty of reason blends into thought like the water of a bay blends into the open sea; there is nowhere a positive line dividing them. When we are in the midst of one we point to the other, and say, "There it is;" but we cannot say at what exact point we pass out of one into the other.

    THE POWER OF REASONING

To reason is to think methodically and to judge from attending facts. When a monkey examines the situation and acts in accordance with the facts, doing a certain thing with the evident purpose of accomplishing a certain end, in what respect is this not reason? When a monkey remembers a thing which has passed and anticipates a thing which is to come; when he has learned a thing by experience which he avoids through memory and the apprehension of its recurrence, is it instinct that guides his conduct? When a monkey shows clearly by his actions that he is aware of the relation between cause and effect, and acts in accordance therewith, is it instinct or reason that guides him? If there be a point in the order of Nature where reason became an acquired faculty, it is somewhere far below the plane occupied by monkeys. Their power of reasoning is far inferior to that of man, but not more so than their power of thinking and expression; but a faculty does not lose its identity by reason of its feebleness. When the same causes under the same conditions prompt man and ape alike to do the same act in the same way, looking forward to the same results, I cannot understand why the motive of the one should be called reason, and that of the other called instinct. Scholars have tried so hard to keep the peace between theology and themselves, that they have explained things in accordance with accepted belief in order that they might not incur the charge of heresy. To this end they have reconciled the two extremes by ignoring the means, and making a distinction without a difference on which to found it.

Whatever may be the intrinsic difference between reason and instinct, it is evident to my mind that the same motives actuate both man and ape in the same way, but not to the same extent. I am aware that many acts performed by Simians are meaningless to them and done without a well-defined motive. The strong physical resemblance between man and ape often causes one to attach more importance to the act than it really justifies. In many cases the same act performed by some other animal less like man would scarcely be noticed. To teach an ape or monkey to eat with knife, fork, cup and spoon, to use a napkin and chair, or such like feats, does not indicate to my mind a high order of reason; nor it is safe to judge the mental status of these creatures from such data. When he is placed under new conditions and committed to his own resources, we are then better able to judge by his conduct whether he is actuated by reason or not.

    CONNECTING CAUSES AND EFFECTS

In any simple act where a monkey can see the cause connected with, and closely followed by, the effect, he is actuated by reason, and while he may not be able to explain to his own mind a remote or complex cause but simply accepts the fact, it does not make the act any less rational in a monkey than the same act would be in man where he fails to grasp the ultimate cause. The difference is that man is able to trace the connecting causes and effects through a longer series than a monkey can. Man assigns a more definite reason for his acts than a monkey can; but it is also true that one man may assign a more definite reason for his acts than another man can for his when prompted by the same motives to the same act.

The processes, motives, acts and results are the same with man and ape; the degree to which they reason differs, but the kind of reason in both cases is the same.

I shall here relate some instances in my experience and leave the reader to judge whether reason or instinct guided the acts of the monkeys as I shall detail them in the next few paragraphs. It will be remembered that these were new conditions under which the monkeys acted.

I taught Nellie to drink milk from a bottle with a rubber nipple. While I would hold the bottle, it was easy for her to secure the milk; but when she undertook it alone, she utterly failed. The thing which puzzled her was how to get the milk to come up to her end of the bottle. She turned it in every way, and held it in every position that she could think of, but the milk always kept at the other end of the bottle. She would throw the bottle down in despair, and when she saw the milk flow to the end having the nipple, she would go back and pick it up, and try it again. Poor Nellie worried her little head over this, and again abandoned it in despair. While trying to solve the mystery, she discovered a new trick. While the bottle was partly inverted she caught hold of the nipple, and squeezed it. By this means she accidentally spurted the milk into the faces of some ladies who were watching her. This afforded her so much fun that she could scarcely be restrained, and while she remained with me she remembered this funny trick, and never failed to perform it when she was allowed to do so. It was no trouble for her to connect the immediate effect to the immediate cause. But she could not for a long time understand that the position of the bottle or the location of the milk in it had anything to do with the trick. In the course of time, however, she learned to hold the bottle so that she could drink the milk, and she also discovered that it had to be held in a certain position in order to play her amusing trick.

Another instance was in the case of a little monkey, heretofore described by the name of Jennie. When you would throw a nut, just out of her reach, she would take a stick which had a nail in the end, and rake the nut to her. She never took the wrong end of the stick, and never placed the nail on the wrong side of the nut. Her master assured me that she had not been taught this, but had found the stick and applied it to this use. When she did not want any one to play with her or handle her, she would coil her chain up and sit down on it to keep any one from taking hold of it.

It is not an uncommon thing for monkeys to discover the means by which their cage is kept fastened, and they have frequently been known to untie a knot in a rope or chain, and thus release themselves. I have known a monkey that learned to reach its hand through the meshes of the cage, and withdraw the pin which fastened the hasp and thus open the door and get out. The keeper substituted a small wire, which he twisted three or four times in order that it could not be released. The monkey realised that the wire performed the duties of the pin and prevented the door from opening. He also knew that the wire was twisted and that this was the reason he could not remove it. I have seen him put his hand through the meshes of the cage, catch the loose end of the wire and turn it as though he was turning a crank. He evidently knew that the twist in the wire was made by such a motion and his purpose was to untwist it, but so far as I know he never succeeded in doing so. I have frequently seen a monkey gather up his chain and measure his distance from where he stood to the point at which he expected to alight, with the skill and accuracy of an engineer.

A gentleman of my acquaintance assured me recently that during his sojourn of two years in the Island of Sumatra, he had in his service a large orang. This ape did many chores about the place, and performed many simple duties as well as the other domestics did.

On one occasion, this ape was induced to go aboard a steamer which lay in the harbour. The purpose was to kidnap him and carry him to Europe. Either through fear, instinct, reason, or some other cause, this ape jumped overboard and swam ashore, although he was naturally afraid of water. From that time on to the end of the gentleman's residence there, he assures me that whenever a steamer made its appearance in the harbour, the ape would take flight to the forest, where he would stay as long as the vessel remained in sight. He was seen from time to time, but could not be induced to return to the house until the vessel had departed.

A few years ago, I saw on board the United States receiving ship Franklin, a bright little monkey which was kept chained in a temporary workshop built on the gun-deck. Her chain was just long enough to allow her to reach the stove. The day was pleasant outside, but in the shade a trifle chilly. The little monk descended from the sill on which she usually sat and carefully felt the top of the stove with her hands. Finding it slightly warm, although the fire had died out, she mounted the stove and laid the side of her head on the warm surface. She would turn first one cheek and then the other, and continued rubbing the stove with her hands. Not finding it warm enough, she jumped down on the floor, opened the stove door with her hand, and slammed it two or three times. She then picked up a stick of wood lying within reach, and tried to lift it to the stove. The stick was too heavy for her to handle, so she would lift up one end of it and drop it heavily on the floor with the evident purpose of attracting the attention of her master. Again she would open and slam the door, lift up the end of the stick and drop it, and utter a peculiar sound, showing in every possible way that she wanted a fire. She finally picked up a small stick and stuck the end of it into the ashes in the front of the stove. She knew that it was necessary to put the wood into the stove; she knew where to put it in, and, while she could not do it herself, she knew who could put it in. Her master told me that she would gather up the shavings from the floor when they came within her reach and pile them up by the stove. He also told me that he frequently gave her a lighted match when he had prepared the fuel for building a fire, and that she would touch the match to the shavings and start the fire. She never ventured to get on the stove without first examining it to ascertain how hot it was.

Another feat which she performed was to try to remove some tar from the cup in which he gave her water and milk. The cup had been lined with tar as a sanitary measure to prevent consumption, and she was aware that the tar imparted an unpleasant taste and odour, hence she tried very hard to remove it from the cup. Was this instinct?

CHAPTER XVII

Speech Defined – The True Nature of Speech – The Use of Speech – The Limitations of Speech.

    SPEECH DEFINED

What is speech? I shall endeavour to define it in such terms as will relieve it of ambiguity, and deal with it as a known quantity in the problems of mental commerce. Speech is that form of materialised thought which is confined to oral sounds, when they are designed to convey a definite idea from mind to mind. It is, therefore, only one mode of expressing thought, and to come within the limits of speech, the sounds must be voluntary, have fixed values, and be intended to suggest to another mind a certain idea, or group of ideas, more or less complex. The idea is one factor, and sound the other, and the two conjointly constitute speech. The empty sounds alone, however modulated, having no integral value, cannot be speech, nor can the concept unexpressed be speech. Separately, the one would be noise, and the other would be thought; and they only become speech when the thought is expressed in oral sounds. Sounds which only express emotion are not speech, as emotion is not thought, although it is frequently attended by thought, and is a cause of which thought is the effect. Music expresses emotion by means of sounds, but they are not speech; and even though the sounds which express them may impart a like emotion to the hearer, they are not speech. The sounds which express crying, sighing, or laughter, may indeed be a faint suggestion of speech, since we infer from them the state of the mind attending the emotions which produce them, yet they are not truly speech. To be regarded as speech, the expression must be preceded by consciousness, and the desire to make known to another the sensation by which the expression is actuated. As the impulse can only come from within, it appears that emotion is one source from which thought is evolved, and speech is the natural issue of thought. Desire gives rise to a class of thoughts having reference to the sensations which produce them, and such thoughts find expression in such sounds as may suggest supplying the want. As the wants of man have increased with his changing modes of life and thought, his speech has drawn upon the resources of sound to meet those increased demands for expression. It appears only reasonable to me that thought must precede in point of time and order any expression of thought, for thought is the motive of expression, and the expression of thought in oral sounds is speech. NATURE OF SPEECH Speech is not an invention, and therefore is not symbolic in its radical nature. True, that much that is symbolic has been added to it, and its bounds have been widened as men have risen in the scale of civil life, until our higher types of modern speech have departed so far from the natural modes of speech and first forms of expression, that we can rarely trace a single word to its ultimate source. And viewing it as we do from our present standpoint, it appears to be purely symbolic; but if that be so, then we must deny the first law of progress, and assign the origin of this faculty to that class of phenomena known as miracles, which once explained by increasing the mystery what we could not understand, and served at the same time to conceal the exact magnitude of our ignorance; but as we added little by little to our stock of knowledge, such phenomena were brought within the realm of our understanding, and to-day our children are familiar with the causes of many simple effects which our forefathers dared not attempt to solve, but reverently ascribed to the immediate influence of Divinity. If speech in its ultimate nature is symbolic, what must have been the condition of man before its invention, and how did he arrive at the first term or sound of speech? He did not invent sound nor the means of making it. He did not invent thought, the thing which speech expresses, and it is no more reasonable to believe that he invented speech than to believe that he invented the faculties of sight and hearing, which are certainly the natural products of his organic nature and environments. So far as I can find through the whole range of animal life, all forms of land mammals possess vocal organs which are developed in a degree corresponding to the condition of the brain, and seem to be in every instance as capable of producing and controlling sounds as the brain is of thinking: in other words, the power of expression is in perfect keeping with the power of thinking. From my acquaintance with the animal kingdom, it is my firm belief that all mammals possess the faculty of speech in a degree commensurate with their experience and needs, and that domestic animals have a somewhat higher type of speech than their wild progenitors. Why are all forms of mammals endowed with vocal organs? Why should Nature bestow on them these organs if not designed for use? One or the other of two conclusions seems inevitable. As a law of evolution and progress, all organs are imparted to animals for use and not for ornament. It seems consistent with what we know of Nature, to suppose that the vocal organs of these lower forms are being developed to meet a new requirement in the animal economy, or having once discharged some function necessary to the being and comfort of the animal, they are now lapsing into disuse and becoming atrophied. If they are in the course of development, it argues that the creature which possesses them must possess a rudimentary speech which is developing at a like rate into a higher type of speech. If they are in a state of decay or atrophy, it argues that the animal must have been able to speak at some former period, and that now, in losing the power of speech it is gradually losing the organ. In either case, the organs themselves would be in a state of development in harmony with the condition of the speech of the animal. LIMITATIONS OF SPEECH The function which speech discharges is the communication of ideas, and its growth must depend upon the extent of those ideas; and in all conditions of life, and in all forms of the animal kingdom, the uses of speech are confined to, and limited by the desires, thoughts, and concepts of those using it. Its extent is commensurate with requirement. To believe that there was a time in the history of the human race when man could not speak, is to destroy his identity as man, and the romance of the alalus could be justified from a scientific standpoint only as a compromise between the giants of science and superstition. Among the tribes of men whose modes of life are simple, whose wants are few, and whose knowledge is confined to their primitive condition, the number of words necessary to convey their thoughts is very limited. Among some savage races there are languages consisting of only a few hundred words at most, while as we rise in the scale of civil and domestic culture, languages become more copious and expressive as the wants become more numerous and the conditions of life more complex. As we descend from man to the lower animals, we find the types of speech degenerate just in proportion as we descend in the mental and moral plane, but it does not lose its identity as speech. Through the whole animal kingdom from man to protozoa, types of speech differ as do the physical types to which they belong. But as the same vital processes are found throughout the whole circle of life, so the same phonetic basis is found through the whole range of speech.

CHAPTER XVIII

The Motives of Speech – Expression – The Beginning of Human Speech – The Present Condition of Speech.

In vital economy, the search-light of science has found the protoplasm which from our present state of knowledge seems to be the first point of contact between elemental matter and the vital force. What secrets of biology remain unknown within the realm of life, only those who live in the future may ever know. In the first condition of vitalised matter we find the evidence of autonomy. Whatever may be the ultimate force which actuates this monad, the manifestations of its presence and the result of its energy are seen externally. Whatever may be the nature of that force which imparts motion to matter, the first impulse of the biod is to secure food or to associate itself with a unit of its own kind. This is perhaps the first act of volition within the sphere of life, the first expression of some internal want, and is the first faint suggestion of a consciousness, however feeble; and I may add with propriety, that it is my opinion that the vital and psychic forces operate in a manner not unlike the electric and chemical forces. They appear to polarise, and in this condition act on matter in harmony with that great law of Nature under which positive repels positive and attracts negative, and vice versâ. We shall not attempt to follow the tedious steps of progress from inanimate matter to man, but begin with those intermediate forms which are so far developed as to utter sounds and understand the sounds of others. We will deal only with tangible facts as we find them. From whatever source expression may arise, or at whatever point it may appear, it is prompted by desire or some kindred emotion, either positive or negative.

    MODES OF EXPRESSION

At the point where we begin to discuss this question there are two distinct modes of expression, either one of which can be used without the other. But I may mention here a cogent fact, that in the lower forms of life the normal mode of expression is by signs with supplemental sounds. In the higher forms, expression is by sounds, and signs are supplemental. And from the lower to the higher forms this transition is in harmony with the development of physical types. It occurs to me that signs were the first form of expression, and that sounds were first used to call attention to the sign made; and by an association of ideas the sounds became a factor of expression, and were used to emphasise signs. As we ascend the scale of life, sounds become more abundant, and signs less significant, and in the middle types they appear to be of nearly equal value, while in the higher tribes of man sounds are the normal mode of expression, and signs or gestures are used to emphasise them; and thus we see that signs and sounds in the development of the faculty of expression have quite changed places. This is consistent with the observed facts within the limits of human speech. There are tribes of mankind whose language is scarcely intelligible among themselves unless accompanied by signs; and it is said of some of the African tribes that their gestures are more eloquent than their speech. It appears to me consistent to believe that speech appears in the animal organism simultaneously with the vocal organs, and that the desire of expression must have preceded this. PRESENT CONDITION OF SPEECH The condition of the vocal organs depends upon the type of speech which they are used to utter, and the speech depends upon the quality of thought it is intended to express. That type of speech used by the Caucasian race within the space of a few centuries has developed from a vocabulary limited to a few thousand words into the polished languages of modern Europe, comprising new types and tens of thousands of new words, until to-day our own language contains more than two hundred and twenty thousand words, very few of which, however, if any, are entirely new. The phonetic elements on which is built up this huge vocabulary do not very greatly exceed in number those found in the lowest types of human speech in the world. The total number of these sounds does not much exceed two score in the highest forms of human speech; and about half this number can be shown as the vocal products of some species of the lower animals. Some philologists claim that the blending of consonant and vowel sounds is the mark which distinguishes human speech from the sounds uttered by the lower animals. To show how poorly this gigantic superstructure of fossilised science is supported by the facts, I have developed such effects in the phonograph from a basis of sounds purely mechanical, and without the aid of any part of the vocal apparatus of man or animal. The sounds from which I have developed such results were neither vowel nor consonant as those sounds are defined, but simply prolonged musical notes. In another chapter will be found some of the experiments which I have performed with the phonograph in the investigation of sounds of various kinds. If I am allowed to think for myself at all, I am not ready to accept as final some of the dogmas on the theory of sound which have long been held and taught, and many of which remain orthodox for no other reason than that no one has denied them. I am not ready at this point to spring upon the world any new theory of sound, but I am quite ready to refuse to believe some of the tenets set forth in the creeds of philology.

Heresy is the author of progress, and I confess myself a heretic on many of the current doctrines of the science of sounds.

CHAPTER XIX

Language embraces Speech – Speech, Words, Grammar, and Rhetoric.

A definition of the word speech as used in this particular work is given elsewhere, and by this definition the word is used only in that sense which limits it to the sphere of oral sounds. It is that form of language which addresses itself only to the ear. The sounds which constitute it may be supplemented by signs or gestures, but such signs are only adjuncts, and are not to be regarded as an integral part of speech in its true sense. Speech cannot be acquired by those forms of life which occupy the lowest horizons of the animal kingdom, and have no organs with which to produce sound. In the light of modern use and acceptation language, broadly interpreted, includes all modes and means of communication between mind and mind. It therefore includes speech as one form, while signs or gestures constitute another form. Writing in all its various modes is another form of language. It may be substituted for either speech or gestures, but it does not thereby become speech in a literal sense, but within itself it constitutes another form of language. There seems to be some vague and subtle method of communication found in certain spheres of life which is called telepathy. While it is a mere ghost of language, so to speak, it has an identity which cannot be denied. This may perhaps be called another form of language.