Fundamental book, I shall calmly reply: Yes, it is an error; but it must
remain inviolable, for it belongs to the fundamental document, in which
no one has the right to make any change.... I showed, _in principle_,
how the strict inviolability of the _Fundamento_ will always preserve
the unity of our language, without however preventing the language
not only from becoming richer, but even from constantly becoming more
perfect. But _in practice_ we (for causes already many times explained)
must naturally be very cautious in the process of 'perfecting' the
language: (_a_) we must not do this light-heartedly, but only in case of
absolute necessity; (_b_) it can only be done (after mature judgment) by
some central institution, having indisputable authority for the whole
Esperanto world, and not by any private persons....
"Until the time when a central authoritative institution shall decide
to _augment_ (never to _change_) the existing fundament by rendering
official new words or rules, everything good, which is not to be found
in the _Fundamento de Esperanto_, is to be regarded not as compulsory,
but only as recommended."
XV
SUMMARY OF OBJECTIONS TO AN INTERNATIONAL LANGUAGE
An attempt has been made in the preceding chapters to deal with the
more important and obvious arguments put forward by those who will hear
nothing of an international language. The objections are, however, so
numerous, cover such a wide field, and in some cases are so mutually
destructive, that it may be instructive to present them in an orderly
classification.
For there we have them all "at one fell swoop,"
Instead of being scattered through the pages;
They stand forth marshalled in a handsome troop,
To meet the ingenuous youth of future ages.
BYRON.
Let us hope that they will die of exposure, like the famous appendix
pilloried by Byron, and that the ingenuous one will be able to regard
them as literary curiosities.
If the business of an argument is to be unanswerable, the place of
honour certainly belongs to the religious argument. Any one who really
believes that an international language is an impious attempt to reverse
the judgment of Babel will continue firm in his faith, though one speak
with the tongues of men and of angels.
Here, then, are the objections, classified according to content.
OBJECTIONS TO AN INTERNATIONAL LANGUAGE
I. _Religious_.
It is doomed to confusion, because it reverses the judgment of Babel.
II. _Aesthetic and sentimental_.
(1) It is a cheap commercial scheme, unworthy of the attention of
scholars.
(2) It vulgarizes the world and tends to dull uniformity.
(3) It weakens patriotism by diluting national spirit with
cosmopolitanism.
(4) It has no history, no link with the past.
(5) It is artificial, which is a sin in itself.
III. _Political_.
(1) It is against English [Frenchmen read "French"] interests, as
diverting prestige from the national tongue.
(2) It is socialistic and even anarchical in tendency, and will
facilitate the operations of the international disturbers of society.
IV. _Literary and linguistic_.
(1) Lacking history and associations, it is unpoetical and unsuited to
render the finer shades of thought and feeling. It will, therefore,
degrade and distort the monuments of national literatures which may be
translated into it.
(2) It may even discourage authors, ambitious of a wide public, from
writing in their own tongue. Original works in the artificial language
can never have the fine savour of a master's use of his mother tongue.
(3) Its precisely formal and logical vocabulary and construction
debauches the literary sense for the niceties of expression. Therefore,
even if not used as a substitute for the mother tongue, its concurrent
use, which will be thrust on everybody, will weaken the best work in
native idioms.
(4) It will split up into dialects.
(5) Pronunciation will vary so as to be unintelligible.
(6) It is too dogmatic, and refuses to profit by criticism.
V. _Educational and cultural_.
(1) It will prejudice the study of modern languages.
(2) It will provide a "soft option" for examinees.
VI. _Personal and particular_.
It is prejudicial to the vested interests of modern language teachers,
foreign correspondence clerks, interpreters, multilingual waiters and
hotel porters.
VII. _Technical_.
This heading includes the criticisms in detail of various schemes—e.g.
it is urged against Esperanto that its accent is monotonous; that its
accusative case is unnecessary; that its principle of word-formation
from roots is not strictly logical; that its vocabulary is too Romance;
that its vocabulary is not Romance enough; and so forth.
VIII. _Popular_.
(1) It is a wild idea put forth by a set of cranks, who would be better
occupied in something else.
(2) It is impossible.
(3) It is too hard: life isn't long enough.
(4) It is not hard enough: lessons will be too quickly done, and will
not sink into the mind.
(5) It will oust all other languages, and thus destroy each nation's
birthright and heritage.
(6) It will not come in in our time, so the question is of no interest
except to our grandchildren.
(7) It is doomed to failure—look at Volapük!
(8) There are quite enough languages already.
(9) You have to learn three or four languages in order to understand
Esperanto.
(10) You cannot know it without learning it.
(11) You have to wear a green star.
Pains have been taken to make this list exhaustive. If any reader can
think of another objection, he is requested to communicate with the
author.
Most of the serious arguments have been already dealt with, so that not
many words need be said here. As regards No. VII. (Technical), this is
not the place to deal with actual criticisms of the language (Esperanto)
that holds the field. The reader will not be in a position to judge of
them till he has learnt it. Suffice it to say that they can all be met,
and some of the points criticised as vices are, in reality, virtues in
an artificial language.
As for Nos. II. and IV. (Sentimental and Literary), most of these
objections are due to the old heresy of the literary man, that an
artificial language claims to compete with natural languages _as a
language_. Once realize that it is primarily a labour-saving device,
and therefore to be judged like any other modern invention such as
telegraphy or shorthand, and most of these objections fall to the
ground.
A good many of the objections cannot be taken seriously (though they
have all been seriously made), or refute themselves or each other. No.
VIII. (10) sounds like a fake, but this was the criticism of a scholar
and linguist who had been persuaded to look at Esperanto. He complained
that though he, knowing Latin, French, Italian, German, and English,
could read it without ever having learnt it, ordinary Englishmen could
not. It is usual to judge an invention by efficiency compared to cost,
but if an appliance is to be condemned because it needs some trouble to
master it, then not many inventions will survive.
No. VIII. (9) is of course a mistake. It is like saying that you must
practice looping the loop or circus-riding in order to keep your balance
on a bicycle. The greater, of course, includes the less; but it is
better in both cases to begin with the less. It is much more reasonable
to reverse the argument and say: If you begin by learning Esperanto,
you will possess a valuable aid towards learning three or four national
languages.
No. VIII. (5) is absurd. It is the hardest thing in the world to
extirpate a national language; and all the forces of organized
repression (e.g. in unhappy Poland) are finding the task too much for
them. What inducement have the common people, who form the bulk of the
population in every land, to substitute in their home intercourse for
their own language one that they have to learn, if at all, artificially
at school? Only those who have much international intercourse will ever
become really at home in international language—i.e. sufficiently at
home to make it possible to use it indifferently as a substitute for
their mother-tongue; and people who engage in prolonged and continuous
international intercourse, though numerous, will always be in a
minority.
XVI
THE WIDER COSMOPOLITANISM—THE COMING OF ASIA
In the civilized West, where pleasure, business, and science are daily
forging new ties of common interests between the nations, those engaged
in such pursuits have clearly much to gain from the simplification of
their pursuits by a common language. But let us look ahead a little
further still. It may well be that the outstanding feature of the
twentieth century in history will be the coming into line of the peoples
of Asia with their pioneer brethren of the West. Look where you will,
everywhere the symptoms are plain for those who can read them. Japan has
led the way. China is following, and will not be far behind; eventually,
as the Japanese themselves foresee, she will probably outstrip Japan, if
not the world. There seems to be no ground, ethnological or otherwise,
for thinking that the lagging behind of Asia in modern civilization
corresponds to a real inferiority of powers, mental or physical, in the
individual Asiatic. Experience shows that under suitable conditions the
Asiatic can efficiently handle all the white man's tools and weapons;
the complete coming up to date is largely a matter of organization,
education, and the possession of a few really able men at the head of
affairs. Given these, progress may be astonishingly quick. Europeans do
not yet seem to have grasped at all adequately the real significance of
the last fifty years of Japanese history. Do they really think that the
Chinaman is inferior to the Japanese? If so, let them ask any residents
in the Far East. Can it be maintained that a generation ago the peasant
of Eastern Europe was ahead of the country Chinaman? But the last few
years have shown how swiftly modern civilization spreads, both in Europe
and America, from the comparatively small group of nations which in the
main have worked it out to the others, till lately considered backward
and semi-barbarous. And this is the case not merely with the material
products of civilization, the railway and the telegraph, but also as
regards its divers manifestations in all that concerns the life of the
people—constitutional government with growth of representative, elected
authorities and democracy; universal education with universal power of
reading and consequent birth of a cheap press; rise of industry and
consequent growth of towns; universal military service and discipline,
now in force in most lands; rise of a moneyed and leisured class and
consequent growth of sport, and of all kinds of clubs and societies for
promoting various interests, social, sporting, political, religious,
educational, philanthropic, and so forth. In fact, the more the material
side of life is "modernized," the more closely do the citizens of all
lands approximate to one another in their interests and activities,
which ultimately rest upon and grow out of their material conditions.
Meantime wealth and consequently foreign travel everywhere increase,
fresh facilities of communication are constantly provided, men from
different countries are more and more thrown together, and all this
makes for the further strengthening of mutual interests and the growth
of fresh ones in common.
Now if (1) under the stress of "modernization" life is already becoming
so similar in the lands of the West, and if (2) the Asiatic is not
fundamentally inferior in mental and physical endowments, then it
follows as a certainty that the Asiatic world will, under the same
stress, enter the comity of nations, and approximate to the world-type
of interest and activity. It is only a question of time. In economic
history nothing is more certain than that science, organization,
cheapness, and efficiency must ultimately prevail over sporadic,
unorganized local effort based on tradition and not on scientific
exploitation of natural advantages. Thus the East will adopt the
material civilization of the West; and through the same organization
of industrial and commercial life and generally similar economic
conditions, the same type of moneyed class will grow up, with the same
range of interests on the intellectual and social side, diverse indeed,
but in their very diversity conforming more and more to the world-type.
Concurrently with this new tendency to uniformity proceeds the weakening
of the two most powerful disintegrating influences of primitive
humanity—religion and tradition. In the earlier stages of society
these are the two most powerful agents for binding together into groups
men already associated by the ties of locality and common ancestry,
and fettering them in the cast-iron bonds of custom and ceremonial
observance. While the members of each group are thus held together by
the ideas which appeal most profoundly to unsophisticated mankind, the
various groups are automatically and by the same process held apart by
the full force of those ideas. Thus are produced castes, with their
deadening opposition to all progress; and thus arise crusades, wars of
religion and persecutions. Religion and tradition are then at once the
mightiest integrants within each single community, and the mightiest
disintegrants as between different communities.
But this narrow and dissevering spirit of caste dies back before the
spread of knowledge. The tendency to regard a man as unclean or a
barbarian, simply because he does not believe or behave as one's own
people, is merely a product of isolation and ignorance, and disappears
with education and the general opening up of a country. The inquisitor
can no longer boast of "strained relations"—strained physically on the
rack, owing to differences of religious opinion. The state of things
which made it possible for sepoys to revolt because rifle bullets were
greased with the fat of a sacred animal, or for yellow men to tear
up railway tracks because the magic desecrated the tombs of their
ancestors, is rapidly passing away, as Orientals realize the profits to
be made from scientific methods.
Thus the levelling influence is at work, and the checks upon it are
diminishing. The end can be but one. There will be a greater and greater
similarity of life and occupation the world over, and more and more
actual and potential international intercourse.
Now, the further we move in this direction, the greater will be the
impatience of vexatious restraints upon the freedom of intercourse;
and of these restraints the difference of language is one of the most
vexatious, because it is one of the easiest to remove. If we devote
millions of pounds to annihilating the barriers of space, can we not
devote a few months to the comparatively modest effort necessary to
annihilate the barriers of language?
A real cosmopolitanism, in the etymological sense of the word, _world_
(and not merely European) citizenship, will shift the _onus probandi_
from the supporters of an international language to its opponents.
It will say to them, "It is admitted that you have much intercourse
with other peoples; it is admitted that diversity of language is an
obstacle in this intercourse; this obstacle is increasing rather than
diminishing as fresh subjects raise their claims upon the few years of
education, and the old leisurely type of linguistic education fails
more and more to train the bulk of the people for life's business,
and as the ranks of the civilized are swelled by fresh peoples for
whom it is harder and harder to learn even one Indo-Germanic tongue,
let alone several; it is proved that this obstacle can be removed
at the cost of a few months' study: this study is not only the most
directly remunerative study in the world, comparing results with cost,
but it is an admirable mental discipline and a direct help towards
further real linguistic culture-giving studies for those who are fit
to undertake them. Show cause, then, why you prefer to suffer under
an unnecessary obstacle, rather than avail yourselves of this means
of removing it." It is easier for the Indo-Germanic peoples to learn
each other's languages—e.g. for an Englishman to learn Swedish or
Russian—than it is for a speaker of one of any of the other families of
languages to learn any Indo-Germanic tongue; so that some idea may be
formed of the magnitude of the task imposed upon the newer converts to
Western civilization by the Indo-Germanic world, in making them learn
one or more of its national languages. At the same time, it is but just
that the peoples who have paid the piper of progress should call the
common lingual tune. Therefore, what more fitting than that they should
provide an essence of their allied languages, reduced to its simplest
and clearest form? This they would offer to the rest of the world to
be taken over as part of the general progress in civilization which it
has to adopt; and this it is which is provided in the international
language, Esperanto.
XVII
IMPORTANCE OF AN INTERNATIONAL LANGUAGE FOR THE BLIND
Now that higher education for the blind is being extended in every
country, owing to the more humanitarian feeling of the present age
that these afflicted members of the community ought to be given a fair
chance, the problem of supplying them with books is beginning to be
felt. The process of producing books for the blind on the Braille system
is, of course, far more costly than ordinary printing, and at the same
time the editions must be necessarily more or less limited. Many an
educated blind person is therefore cruelly circumscribed in the range
of literature open to him by the mere physical obstacle of the lack of
books. This difficulty is accentuated by the fact that three kinds of
Braille type are in use—French, English, and American.
Now, suppose it is desired to make the works of some good author
accessible to the blind—we will say the works of Milton. A separate
edition has to be done into Braille for the English, another separate
translation for the French, and so on for the blind of each country.
In many cases where translations of a work do not already exist, as in
the case of a modern author, the mere cost of translation into some
one language may not pay, much less then the preparation of a special
Braille edition for the limited blind public of that country. But if one
Braille edition is prepared for the blind of the world in the universal
auxiliary language, a far greater range of literature is at once brought
within their grasp.
Already there is abundant evidence of the keen appreciation of Esperanto
on the part of the blind, and one striking proof is the fact that the
distinguished French scientist and doctor, Dr. Javal, who himself became
blind during the latter part of his life, was, until his death in March
1907, one of the foremost partisans and benefactors of Esperanto. By
his liberality much has been rendered possible that could not otherwise
have been accomplished. There are many other devoted workers in the same
field, among them Prof. Cart and Mme. Fauvart-Bastoul in France, and Mr.
Rhodes, of Keighley, and Mr. Adams, of Hastings, in England. A special
fund is being raised to enable blind Esperantists from various countries
to attend the Congress at Cambridge in August 1907, and the cause is one
well worthy of assistance by all who are interested in the welfare of
the blind. The day when a universal language is practically recognised
will be one of the greatest in their annals.
A perfectly phonetic language, as is Esperanto, is peculiarly suited
to the needs of the blind. Its long, full vowels, slow, harmonious
intonation, few and simple sounds, and regular construction make it very
easy to learn through the ear, and to reproduce on any phonetic system
of notation; and as a matter of fact, blind people are found to enjoy
it much. For a blind man to come to an international congress and be
able to compare notes with his fellow-blind from all over the world must
be a lifting of the veil between him and the outer world, coming next
to receiving his sight. To witness this spectacle alone might almost
convince a waverer as to the utility of the common language.
XVIII
IDEAL _v._ PRACTICAL
From the early days of the Esperanto movement there has flowed within it
a sort of double current. There is the warm and genial Gulf Stream of
Idealism, that raises the temperature on every shore to which it sets,
and calls forth a luxuriant growth of friendly sentiment. This tends to
the enriching of life. There is also the cooler current of practicality,
with a steady drive towards material profit. At present the tide is
flowing free, and, taken at the flood, may lead on to fortune; the two
currents pursue their way harmoniously within it, without clashing, and
sometimes mingling their waters to their mutual benefit.
But as the movement is sometimes dismissed contemptuously as a pacifist
fad or an unattainable ideal of universal brotherhood, it is as well
to set the matter in its true light. It is true that the inventor of
Esperanto, Dr. Zamenhof, of Warsaw, is an idealist in the best sense of
the word, and that his language was directly inspired by his ardent wish
to remove one cause of misunderstanding in his distracted country. He
has persistently refused to make any profit out of it, and declined to
accept a sum which some enthusiasts collected as a testimonial to his
disinterested work.
It is equally true that Esperanto seems to possess a rather strange
power of evoking enthusiasm. Meetings of Esperantists are invariably
characterized by great cordiality and good-fellowship, and at the
international congresses so far these feelings have at times risen
to fever heat. It is easy to make fun of this by saying that the
conjunction of Sirius, the fever-shedding constellation of the ancients,
with the green star[1] in the dog days of August, when the congresses
are held, induces hot fits. Those who have drunk enthusiastic toasts
in common, and have rubbed shoulders and compared notes with various
foreigners, and gone home having made perhaps lifelong interesting
friendships which bring them in touch with other lands, will not
undervalue the brotherhood aspect of the common language.
[1]Badge of the Esperantists.
On the other hand, the united Esperantists at their first international
meeting expressly and formally dissociated their project from any
connection with political, sentimental, or peace-making schemes. They
did this by drawing up and promulgating a "Deklaracio," adopted by the
Esperantist world, wherein it is declared that Esperanto is a language,
and a language only.[1] It is not a league or a society or agency for
promoting any object whatsoever other than its own dissemination as a
means of communication. Like other tongues, Esperanto may be used for
any purpose whatsoever, and it is declared that a man is equally an
Esperantist whether he uses the language to save life or to kill, to
further his own selfish ends or to labour in any altruistic cause.[2]
[1]For text of this Declaration, see Part II., chap. vii., p. 115.
[2]The non-sectarian nature of Esperanto is shown by the fact that
the first two services in the language were held on the same day
in Geneva according to the Roman Catholic and Protestant rites.
The latter was conducted by an English clergyman, whose striking
sermon on unity, in spite of diversity, evidently impressed his
international congregation. The Vatican has officially expressed
its favour towards Esperanto, and the Archbishop of Canterbury has
sanctioned an Esperanto form of the Anglican service, which will
be used in London and Cambridge this summer. Cordial goodwill was
expressed towards the Vatican, on receipt of its message at Geneva,
by speakers who avowed themselves agnostics, but welcomed any advance
towards abolition of barriers.
The practical nature of the scheme which Esperantists are labouring to
induce the world to adopt is thus sufficiently clearly defined. Dr.
Zamenhof himself, speaking at the Geneva Congress with all the vivid
poignancy attaching to the words of a man fresh from the butcheries
at that moment rife in the Russian Empire,[1] declared that neither
he nor other Esperantists were _naifs_ enough to believe that the
adoption of their language would put an end to such scenes. But he had
_seen_ men at each other's throats, beating each other's brains out with
bludgeons—men who had no personal enmity and had never seen each other
before, but were let loose on each other by pure race prejudice. He _did_
claim that mutual incomprehensibility amongst men who thus dwell side by
side and should be taking part in a common civic life was one powerful
influence in keeping up cliques and divisions, and artificially holding
asunder those whom common interests should be joining together. It is
hard to refuse credence to this power of language, thus moderately
stated.
[1]There were bad massacres about that time in Warsaw, where Dr.
Zamenhof lives. During the Congress news came of the assassination
of one of the chief civic officials of Warsaw.
XIX
LITERARY _v._ COMMERCIAL
Another vexed question is whether it is advisable to run an
international language on a literary or a commercial ticket.
On this rock Volapük split—
A brave vessel,
That had no doubt some noble creature in her,
Dashed all to pieces;[1]
and there was no Prospero to conjure away the tempest and send everybody
safe home to port to speak Volapük happily ever afterwards. The moral
is, that it is no good to make exaggerated claims for a universal
language. To attempt to set it on a fully equal footing with national
languages as a literary medium is to court disaster.
[1]Shakespeare, _The Tempest_.
The truth seems to be about this. As a potential means of international
communication, Esperanto is unsurpassed, and a long way ahead of any
national language. As a literary language, it is far better than Chinook
or Pidgin, far worse than English or Greek.
A language, no more than a man, can serve two masters. By attempting to
combine within itself this double function an international language
would cease to attain either object. The reason is simple.
Its legitimate and proper sphere demands of it as the first essential
that it should be easy and universally accessible. This means that the
words are to be few, and must have but one clearly marked sense each.
There are to be no idioms or set phrases, no words that depend upon
their context or upon allusion for their full sense.
On the other hand, among the essentials of a literary language are the
exact opposites of all these characteristics. The vocabulary must be
full and plenteous, and there should be a rich variety of synonyms;
there should be delicate half-tones and _nuances_; the words should be
not mere counters or symbols of fixed value, determinable in each case
by a rapid use of the dictionary alone, but must have an atmosphere,
a something dependent upon history, usage, and allusion, by virtue of
which the whole phrase, in the finer styles of writing, amounts to more
than the sum of the individual meanings of the words which it contains,
becoming a separate entity with an individual flavour of its own. To
attempt to create this atmosphere in an artificial language is not
only futile, but would introduce just the difficulties, redundancies,
and complications which it is its chief object to avoid. Take a single
instance, Macbeth's—
Nay, this my hand would rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.
Here the effect is produced by the contrast between the stately march of
the long Latin words of thundrous sound, and the short, sharp English. A
labour-saving language has no business with such words as "incarnadine"
or "multitudinous." In translating such a passage it will reproduce the
sense faithfully and clearly, if necessary by the combination of simple
roots; but the bouquet of the original will vanish in the process. This
is inevitable, and it is even so far an advantage that it removes all
ground from the argument that a universal language will kill scholarly
language-learning. It will be just as necessary as ever to read works of
fine literature in the original, in order to enjoy their full savour;
and the translation into the common tongue will not prejudice such
reading of originals more than, or indeed so much as, translations into
various mother-tongues.
Again, take the whole question of the imitative use of language. In
national literatures many a passage, poetry or prose, is heightened
in effect by assonance, alliteration, a certain movement or rhythm of
phrase. Subtle suggestion slides in sound through the ear and falls
with mellowing cadence into the heart. Soothed senses murmur their own
music to the mind; the lullaby lilt of the lay swells full the linked
sweetness of the song.
The How plays fostering round the What. Down the liquid stream of
lingual melody the dirge drifts dying—dying it echoes back into a
ghostly after-life, as the yet throbbing sense wakes the drowsed mind
once more. The Swan-song floats double—song and shadow; and in the
blend—half sensuous, half of thought—man's nature tastes fruition.
Now, this verbal artistry, whereby the words set themselves in tune to
the thoughts, postulates a varied vocabulary, a rich storehouse wherein
a man may linger and choose among the gems of sound and sense till he
find the fitting stone and fashion it to one of those—
jewels five-words long,
That on the stretched forefinger of all Time
Sparkle for ever.
But the word-store of an international tongue must not be a golden
treasury of art, a repository of "bigotry and virtue." On its orderly
rows of shelves must be immediately accessible the right word for the
right place: no superfluity, no disorder, no circumambient margin for
effect. Homocea-like, it "touches the spot," and having deadened the
ache of incomprehensibility, has done its task. "No flowers."
Naturally some peoples will feel themselves more cramped in a new
artificial language than others. French, incomparably neat and clear
within its limits, but possessing the narrowest "margin for effect,"
is less alien in its genius from Esperanto than is English, with its
twofold harmony, its potentiality (too rarely exploited) of Romance
clarity, and its double portion of Germanic vigour and feeling. Yet all
languages must probably witness the obliteration of some finer native
shades in the international tongue.
But we must not go to the opposite extreme, and deny to the universal
language all power of rendering serious thought. Just how far it
can go, and where its inherent limitations begin, is a matter of
individual taste and judgment. There are Esperanto translations—and
good ones—of _Hamlet_, _The Tempest_, _Julius Caesar_, the _Aeneid_ of
Virgil, parts of Molière and Homer, besides a goodly variety of other
literature. These translations do succeed in giving a very fair idea of
the originals, as any one can test for himself with a little trouble,
but, as pointed out, they must come something short in beauty and
variety of expression.
There is even a certain style in Esperanto itself in the hands of a good
writer, of which the dominant notes are simplicity and directness—two
qualities not at all to be despised. Further, the unlimited power of
word-building and of forming terse compounds gives the language an
individuality of its own. It contains many expressive self-explanatory
words whose meaning can only be conveyed by a periphrasis in most
languages,[1] and this causes it to take on the manner and feel of a
_living_ tongue, and makes it something far more than a mere copy or
barren extract of storied speech.
[1]e.g. _samideano_ = partisan of the same cause or idea. _vivipova
lingvo_ = language capable of independent vigorous existence.
Technically, the fulness of its participial system, rivalled by Greek
alone, and the absence of all defective verbs, lend to it a very great
flexibility; and containing, as it does, a variety of specially neat
devices borrowed from various tongues, it is in a sense neater than any
of them.
One great test of its capacity for literary expression remains to be
made. This is an adequate translation of the Bible. A religious society,
famed for the variety of its translations of the Scriptures into every
conceivable language, when approached on the subject, replied that
Esperanto was not a language. But Esperantists will not "let it go
at that." Besides Dr. Zamenhof's own _Predikanto_ (Ecclesiastes), an
experiment has been made by two Germans, who published a translation
of St. Matthew's Gospel. It is not a success, and further experiments
have just been made by Prof. Macloskie, of Princeton, U.S.A., and by E.
Metcalfe, M.A. (Oxon), I cannot say with what result, not having seen
copies.[1]
[1]Cf. also now the "Ordo de Diservo" (special Anglican Church
service), selected and translated from Prayer Book and Bible for
use in England by the Rev. J. C. Rust (obtainable from the British
Esperanto Association, 13, Arundel Street, Strand, price _7d._).
From one point of view, the directness and simplicity of the Bible would
seem to lend themselves to an Esperanto dress; but there are certain
great difficulties, such as technical expressions, archaic diction, and
phrases hallowed by association. A meeting of those interested in this
great work will take place at Cambridge during the Congress (August
1907). Experimenters in this field will there be brought together from
all countries, the subject will be thoroughly discussed, and substantial
progress may be hoped for.
In the field of rendering scientific literature and current workaday
prose, whose matter is of more moment than its form, Esperanto has
already won its spurs. Its perfect lucidity makes it particularly
suitable for this form of writing.
The conclusion then is, that Esperanto is neither wholly commercial nor
yet literary in the full sense in which a grown language is literary;
but it does do what it professes to do, and it is all the better for not
professing the impossible.
XX
IS AN INTERNATIONAL LANGUAGE A CRANK'S HOBBY?
The apostle of a universal language is made to feel pretty plainly that
he is regarded as a crank. He may console himself with the usual defence
that a crank is that which makes revolutions; but for all that, it is
chilling to be met with a certain smile.
Let us analyse that smile. It varies in intensity, ranging from the
scathing sneer damnatory to the gentle dimple deprecatory. But in any
case it belongs to the category of the smile that won't come off. I know
that grin—it comes from Cheshire.
What, then, do we mean when we smile at a crank? Firstly and generally
that we think his ideal impracticable. But it has been shown that an
international language is not impracticable. This alone ought to go far
towards removing it from the list of cranks' hobbies.
Secondly, we often mean that the ideal in question is opposed to common
sense—e.g. when we smile at a man who lives on protein biscuits or
walks about without a hat. We do not impugn the feasibility of his diet
or apparel, but we think he is going out of his way to be peculiar
without reaping adequate advantage by his departure from customary
usage.
The test of "crankiness," then, lies in the adequacy of the advantage
reaped. A man who learns and uses Esperanto may at present depart as
widely from ordinary usage as a patron of Eustace Miles's restaurant
or a member of the hatless brigade; but is it true that the advantage
thereby accruing is equally disputable or matter of opinion? Is it not,
on the contrary, fairly certain that the use of an auxiliary language,
if universal, would open up for many regions from which exclusion is now
felt as a hindrance?
Take the case of a doctor, scientist, scholar, researcher in any branch
of knowledge, who desires to keep abreast of the advance of knowledge in
his particular line. He may have to wait for years before a translation
of some work he wishes to read is published in a tongue he knows, and in
any case all the periodical literature of every nation, except the one
or two whose languages he may learn, will be closed to him. The output
of learned work is increasing very fast in all civilized countries, and
therefore results are recorded in an increasing number of languages in
monographs, reports, transactions, and the specialist press. A move
is being made in the right direction by the proposal to print the
publications of the Brussels International Bibliographical Institute in
Esperanto.
Take a few examples of the hampering effect upon scholarly work of the
language difficulty as it already exists. The diffusion of learning
will, ironically enough, increase the difficulty.[1] The late Prof.
Todhunter, of Cambridge, was driven to learning Russian for mathematical
purposes. He managed to learn enough to enable him to read mathematical
treatises; but how many mathematicians or scientists (or classical
scholars, for that matter) could do as much? And of how much profit was
the learning of Russian, _quâ_ Russian, to Prof. Todhunter? It only took
up time which could have been better spent, as there cannot be anything
very uplifting or cultivating in the language of mathematical Russian.
[1]By multiplying the languages used.
Prof. Max Müller proposed that all serious scientific work should be
published in one of the six languages following—English, French,
German, Italian, Spanish, and Latin. But why should other nations have
to produce in these languages? and why should serious students have to
be prepared to read six languages?
All this was many years ago. The balance of culture has since then been
gradually but steadily shifting in favour of other peoples. The present
writer had occasion to make a special study of Byron's influence on the
Continent. It turned out that one of the biggest and most important
works upon the subject was written in Polish. It has therefore remained
inaccessible. This is only an illustration of a difficulty that faces
many workers.
Thirdly, there is a good large portion of the British public that
regards as a crank anything not British or that does not benefit
themselves personally. It really _is_ hard for an Englishman, Frenchman,
or German, brought up among a homogeneous people of old civilization,
to realize the extent of the incubus under which the smaller nations
of Europe and the polyglot empires further east are groaning. Imagine
yourself an educated Swiss, Dutchman, or a member of any of the thirty
or forty nationalities that make up the Austrian or Russian Empires.
How would you like to have to learn three or four foreign languages for
practical purposes before you could hope to take much of a position in
life? Can any one assert that the kind of grind required, with its heavy
taxation of the memory, is in most cases really educative or confers
culture?
Think it out. What do you really mean when you jeer at an Esperantist?
XXI
WHAT AN INTERNATIONAL LANGUAGE IS NOT
An international language is not an attempt to replace or damage in any
way any existing language or literature.
XXII
WHAT AN INTERNATIONAL LANGUAGE IS
An international language is an attempt to save the greatest amount of
labour and open the widest fields of thought and action to the greatest
number.
PART II
HISTORICAL
I
SOME EXISTING INTERNATIONAL LANGUAGES ALREADY IN PARTIAL USE
Though the idea of an artificially constructed language to meet the
needs of speakers of various tongues seems for some reason to contain
something absurd or repellent to the mind of Western Europeans, there
have, as a matter of fact, been various attempts made at different times
and places to overcome the obvious difficulty in the obvious way; and
all have met with a large measure of success.
The usual method of procedure has been quite rough and ready. Words
or forms have been taken from a variety of languages, and simply
mixed up together, without any scientific attempt at co-ordination or
simplification. The resulting international languages have varied in
their degree of artificiality, and in the proportions in which they were
consciously or semi-consciously compiled, or else adopted their elements
ready-made, without conscious adaptation, from existing tongues. But
their production, widespread and continuous use, and great practical
utility, showed that they arose in response to a felt want. The wonder
is that the world should have grown so old without supplying this want
in a more systematic way.
Every one has heard of the _lingua franca_ of the Levant. In India the
master-language that carries a man through among a hundred different
tribes is Hindustanee, or Urdu. At the outset it represented a new need
of an imperial race. It had its origin during the latter half of the
sixteenth century under Akbar, and was born of the sudden extension
of conquest and affairs brought about by the great ruler. Round him
gathered a cosmopolitan crowd of courtiers, soldiers, vassal princes,
and followers of all kinds, and wider dealings than the ordinary local
petty affairs received a great stimulus. Urdu is a good example of a
mix-up language, with a pure Aryan framework developed out of a dialect
of the old Hindi. In fact, it is to India very much what Esperanto might
be to Europe, only it is more empirical, and not so consciously and
scientifically worked out.
Somewhat analogous to Urdu, in that it is a literary language used
by the educated classes for intercommunication throughout a polygot
empire, is the Mandarin Chinese. If China is not "polygot" in the strict
technical sense of the term, she is so in fact, since the dialects used
in different provinces are mutually incomprehensible for the speakers of
them. Mandarin is the official master-language.
Rather of the nature of _patois_ are Pidgin-English, Chinook, and
Benguela, the language used throughout the tribes of the Congo. Yet
business of great importance and involving large sums of money is, or
has been, transacted in them, and they are used over a wide area.
Pidgin consists of a medley of words, largely English, but with a
considerable admixture from other tongues, combined in the framework
of Chinese construction. It is current in ports all over the East,
and is by no means confined to China. The principle is that roots,
chiefly monosyllabic, are used in their crude form without inflection
or agglutination, the mere juxtaposition (without any change of form)
showing whether they are verbs, adjectives, etc. This is the Chinese
contribution to the language.
Chinook is the key-language to dealings with the huge number of
different tribes of American Indians. It contains a large admixture of
French words, and was to a great extent artificially put together by the
Hudson Bay Company's officials, for the purposes of their business.
Quite apart from these various more or less consciously constructed
mixed languages, there is a much larger artificial element in many
national languages than is commonly realized. Take modern Hungarian,
Greek, or even Italian. Literary Italian, as we know it, is largely an
artificial construction for literary purposes, made by Dante and others,
on the basis of a vigorous and naturally supple dialect. With modern
Greek this is even more strikingly the case. As a national language
it is almost purely the work of a few scholars, who in modern times
arbitrarily and artificially revived and modified the ancient Greek.
There seems, then, to be absolutely no foundation in experience for
opposing a universal language on the score of artificiality.
II
OUTLINE OF THE HISTORY OF THE IDEA OF A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE
List of Schemes proposed
The story of Babel in the Old Testament reflects the popular feeling
that confusion of tongues is a hindrance and a curse. Similarly in the
New Testament the Pentecostal gift of tongues is a direct gift of God.
But apparently it was not till about 300 years ago that philosophers
began to think seriously about a world-language.
The earliest attempts were based upon the mediaeval idea that man might
attain to a perfect knowledge of the universe. The whole sum of things
might, it was thought, be brought by division and subdivision within
an orderly scheme of classification. To any conceivable idea or thing
capable of being represented by human speech might therefore be attached
a corresponding word, like a label, on a perfectly regular and logical
system. Words would thus be self-explanatory to any person who had
grasped the system, and would serve as an index or key to the things
they represented. Language thus became a branch of philosophy as the men
of the time conceived it, or at all events a useful handmaid. Thus arose
the idea of a "philosophical language."
A very simple illustration will serve to show what is meant. Go into
a big library and look up any work in the catalogue. You will find
a reference number—say, 04582.g. 35,c. If you learnt the system of
classification of that library, the reference number would explain to
you where to find that particular book out of any number of millions.
The fact of the number beginning with a "0" would at once place the book
in a certain main division, and so on with the other numbers, till "g"
in that series gave you a fairly small subdivision. Within that, "35"
gives you the number of the case, and "c" the shelf within the case. The
book is soon run to earth.
Just so a word in a philosophical language. Suppose the word is _brabo_.
The final _o_ shows it to be a noun. The monosyllabic root shows it to
be concrete. The initial _b_ shows it to be in the animal category. The
subsequent letters give subdivisions of the animal kingdom, till the
word is narrowed down by its form to membership of one small class of
animals. The other members of the class will be denoted by an ordered
sequence of words in which only the letter denoting the individual is
changed. Thus, if _brabo_ means "dog," _braco_ may be "cat," and so on:
_brado_, _brafo_, _brago_... etc., according to the classification
set up.
Words, then, are reduced to mere formulae; and grammar, inflections,
etc., are similarly laid out on purely logical, systematic lines,
without taking any account of existing languages and their structure.
To languages of this type the historians of the universal language have
given the name of _a priori_ languages.
Directly opposed to these is the other group of artificial languages,
called _a posteriori_. These are wholly based on the principle of
borrowing from existing language: their artificiality consists in
choice of words and in regularization and simplification of vocabulary
and grammar. They avoid, as far as possible, any elements of arbitrary
invention, and confine themselves to adapting and making easier what
usage has already sanctioned.
Between the two main types come the _mixed languages_, partaking of the
nature of each.
The following list is taken from the _Histoire de la langue
universelle_, by MM. Couturat and Leau:
I. A PRIORI LANGUAGES
1. The philosopher Descartes, in a letter of 1629, forecasts a system
(realized in our days by Zamenhof) of a regular universal grammar: words
to be formed with fixed roots and affixes, and to be in every case
immediately decipherable from the dictionary alone. He rejects this
scheme as fit "for vulgar minds," and proceeds to sketch the outline
of all subsequent "philosophic" languages. Thus the great thinker
anticipates both types of universal language.
2. Sir Thomas Urquhart, 1653—_Logopandekteision_ (see next chapter).
3. Dalgarno, 1661—_Ars Signorum_. Dalgarno was a Scotchman born at
Aberdeen in 1626. His language is founded on the classification of
ideas. Of these there are seventeen main classes, represented by
seventeen letters. Each letter is the initial of all the words in its
class.
4. Wilkins, 1668—_An Essay towards a Real Character and a Philosophical
Language_. Wilkins was Bishop of Chester, and first secretary and one
of the founders of the Royal Society. Present members please note. His
system is a development of Dalgarno's.
5. Leibnitz, 1646-1716. Leibnitz thought over this matter all his life,
and there are various passages on it scattered through his works,
though no one treatise is devoted to it. He held that the systems of
his predecessors were not philosophical enough. He dreamed of a logic
of thought applicable to all ideas. All complex ideas are compounds of
simple ideas, as non-primary numbers are of primary numbers. Numbers
can be compounded _ad infinitum._ So if numbers are translated into
pronouncible words, these words can be combined so as to represent every
possible idea.
6. Delormel, 1795 (An III)—_Projet d'une langue universelle_. Delormel
was inspired by the humanitarian ideas of the French Revolution. He
wished to bring mankind together in fraternity. His system rests on a
logical classification of ideas on a decimal basis.
7. Jean François Sudre, 1817—_Langue musicale universelle_. Sudre was a
schoolmaster, born in 1787. His language is founded on the seven notes
of the scale, and he calls it Solresol.
8. Grosselin, 1836—_Systeme de langue universelle_. A language
composed of 1500 words, called "roots," with 100 suffixes, or modifying
terminations.
9. Vidal, 1844—_Langue universelle et analytique_. A curious
combination of letters and numbers.
10. Letellier, 1852-1855—_Cours complet de langue universelle_, and
many subsequent publications. Letellier was a former schoolmaster and
school inspector. His system is founded on the "theory of language,"
which is that the word ought to represent by its component letters an
analysis of the idea it conveys.
11. Abbé Bonifacio Sotos Ochando, 1852, Madrid. The abbé had been
a deputy to the Spanish Cortes, Spanish master to Louis Philippe's
children, a university professor, and director of a polytechnic
college in Madrid, etc. His language is a logical one, intended for
international scientific use, and chiefly for writing. He does not think
a spoken language for all purposes possible.
12. _Societé Internationale de linguistique_. First report dated 1856.
The object of the society was to carry out a radical reform of French
orthography, and to prepare the way for a universal language—"the need
of which is beginning to be generally felt." In the report the idea of
adopting one of the most widely spoken national languages is considered
and rejected. The previous projects are reviewed, and that of Sotos
Ochando is recommended as the best. The _a posteriori_ principle is
rejected and the _a priori_ deliberately adopted. This is excusable,
owing to the fact that most projects hitherto had been _a priori_. The
philosopher Charles Renouvier gave proof of remarkable prescience by
condemning the _a priori_ theory in an article in _La Revue_, 1855, in
which he forecasts the _a posteriori_ plan.
13. Dyer, 1875—_Lingwalumina; or, the Language of Light_.
14. Reinaux, 1877.
15. Maldent, 1877—_La langue naturelle_. The author was a civil
engineer.
16. Nicolas, 1900—_Spokil_. The author is a ship's doctor and former
partisan of Volapük.
17. Hilbe, 1901—_Die Zablensprache_, Based on numbers which are
translated by vowels.
18. Dietrich, 1902—_Völkerverkehrssprache_.
19. Mannus Talundberg, 1904—_Perio, eine auf Logik und Gedachtnisskunst
aufgebaute Weltsprache_.
II. MIXED LANGUAGES
These are chiefly Volapük and its derivates.
1. August Theodor von Grimm, state councillor of the Russian Empire,
worked out a "programme for the formation of a universal language,"
which contains some _a priori_ elements, as well as nearly all the
principles which subsequent authors of _a posteriori_ languages have
realized. This Grimm is not to be confused with the famous philologist
Jacob von Grimm, though he wrote about the same time.
2. Schleyer, 1879—_Volapük_. (See below.)
3. Verheggen, 1886—_Nal Bino_.
4. Menet, 1886—_Langue universelle_. An imitation of Volapük.
5. Bauer, 1886—_Spelin_. A development of Volapük with more words taken
from neutral languages.
6. St. de Max, 1887—_Bopal_. An imitation of Volapük.
7. Dormoy, 1887—_Balta_. A simplification of Volapük.
8. Fieweger, 1893—_Dil_. An exaggeration of Volapük for good and ill.
9. Guardiola, 1893—_Orba_. A fantastic language.
10. W. von Arnim, 1896—_Veltparl_. A derivative of Volapük.
11. Marchand, 1898—_Dilpok_. Simplified Volapük.
12. Bollack, 1899—_La langue bleue_. Aims merely at commercial and
common use. Ingenious, but too difficult for the memory.
III. A POSTERIORI LANGUAGES
1. Faiguet, 1765—_Langue nouvelle_. Faiguet was treasurer of France. He
published his project, which is a scheme for simplifying grammar, in the
famous eighteenth-century encyclopaedia of Diderot and d'Alembert.
2. Schipfer, 1839—_Communicationssprache_. This scheme has an
historical interest for two reasons. First, the fact that it is founded
on French reflects the feeling of the time that French was, as he
says, "already to a certain extent a universal language." The point of
interest is to compare the date when the projects began to be founded on
English. In 1879 Volapük took English for the base. Secondly, Schipfer's
scheme reflects the new consciousness of wider possibilities that were
coming into the world with the development of means of communication by
rail and steamboat. The author recommends the utility of his project by
referring to "the new way of travelling."
3. De Rudelle, 1858—_Pantos-Dimon-Glossa._ De Rudelle was a
modern-language master in France and afterwards at the London
Polytechnic. His language is based on ten natural languages, especially
Greek, Latin, and the modern derivatives of Latin, with grammatical
hints from English, German, and Russian. It is remarkable for having
been the first to embody several principles of the first importance,
which have since been more fully carried out in other schemes, and are
now seen to be indispensable. Among these are: (1) distinction of the
parts of speech by a fixed form for each; (2) suppression of separate
verbal forms for each person; (3) formation of derivatives by means of
suffixes with fixed meanings.
4. Pirro, 1868—_Universalsprache_. Based upon five languages—French,
German, English, Italian, and Spanish—and containing a large proportion
of words from the Latin.
5. Ferrari, 1877—_Monoglottica_ (?).
6. Volk and Fuchs, 1883—_Weltsprache_. Founded on Latin.
7. Cesare Meriggi, 1884—_Blaia Zimondal_.
8. Courtonne, 1885—_Langue Internationale néo-Latine_. Based on the
modern Romance languages, and therefore not sufficiently international.
A peculiarity is that all roots are monosyllabic. The history of this
attempt illustrates the weight of inertia against which any such project
has to struggle. It was presented to the Scientific Society of Nice,
which drew up a report and sent it to all the learned societies of
Romance-speaking countries. Answers were received from three towns—Pau,
Sens, and Nimes. It was then proposed to convene an international
neo-Latin congress; but it is not surprising to hear that nothing came
of it.
9. Steiner, 1885—_Pasilingua_. A counterblast to Volapük. The author
aims at copying the methods of naturally formed international languages
like the "lingua franca" or Pidgin-English. Based on English, French,
and German; but the English vocabulary forms the groundwork.
10. Eichhorn, 1887—_Weltsprache_. Based on Latin. A leading principle
is that each part of speech ought to be recognizable by its form. Thus
nouns have two syllables; adjectives, three; pronouns, one; verbal
roots, one syllable beginning and ending with a consonant; and so on.
11. Zamenhof, 1887—_Esperanto_. (See below.)
12. Bernhard, 1888—_Lingua franca nuova_. A kind of bastard Italian.
13. Lauda, 1888—_Kosmos_. Draws all its vocabulary from Latin.
14. Henderson, 1888—_Lingua_. Latin vocabulary with modern grammar.
15. Henderson, 1902—_Latinesce_. A simpler and more practical
adaptation of Latin by the same author—_e.g._ the present infinitive form
does duty for several finite tenses, and words are used in their modern
senses.
16. Hoinix (pseudonym for the same indefatigable Mr. Henderson),
1889—_Anglo-franca_. A mixture of French and English. Both this and the
barbarized Latin schemes are fairly easy and certainly simpler than the
real languages, but they are shocking to the ear, and produce the effect
of mutilation of language.
17. Stempel, 1889—_Myrana_. Based on Latin with admixture of other
languages.
18. Stempel, 1894—_Communia_. A simplification of No. 17, with a new
name.
19. Rosa, 1890—_Nov Latin_. A set of rules for using the Latin
dictionary in a certain way as a key to produce something that can be
similarly deciphered.
20. Julius Lott, 1890—_Mundolingue_. Founded on Latin. Lott started an
international society for a universal language, proposing to build up
his language by collaboration of savants thus brought together.
21. Marini, 1891—_Méthode rapide, facile et certaine pour construire un
idiome universel_.
22. Liptay, 1892—_Langue catholique_. Based on the theory than an
international language already exists (in the words common to many
languages), and has only to be discovered.
23. Mill, 1893—_Anti-Volapük_. A simple universal grammar to be applied
to the vocabulary of each national language.
24. Braakman, 1894—_Der Wereldtaal "El Mundolinco," Gramatico del
Mundolinco pro li de Hollando Factore_ (Noordwijk).
25. Albert Hoessrich (date?)—_Talnovos, Monatsschrift für die
Einführung und Verbreitung der allgemeinen Verkehrssprache_ "_Tal_"
(Sonneberg, Thuringen).
26. Heintzeler, 1895—_Universala_. Heintzeler compares the twelve chief
artificial languages already proposed, and shows that they have much in
common. He suggests a commission to work out a system on an eclectic
basis.
27. Beermann, 1895—_Novilatin_. Latin brought up to date by comparison
with six chief modern languages.
28. _Le Linguist_, 1896-7. A monthly review conducted by a band of
philologists. It contains many discussions of the principles which
should underly an international language, and suggestions, but no
complete scheme.
29. Puchner, 1897—_Nuove Roman_. Based largely on Spanish, which the
author considers the best of the Romance tongues.
30. Nilson—_La vest-europish central-dialekt_ (1890); _Lasonebr, un
transitional lingvo_ (1897); _Il dialekt Centralia, un compromiss
entr il lingu universal de Akademi international e la vest-europish
central-dialekt_ (1899).
31. Kürschner, 1900—_Lingua Komun_. The author was an Esperantist,
but found Esperanto not scientific enough. It is almost incredible
that a man who knew Esperanto should invent a language with several
conjugations of the verb, but this is what Kürschner has done.
32. International Academy of Universal Language, 1902—_Idiom Neutral_.
(See below.)
33. Elias Molee, 1902—_Tutonish; or, Anglo-German Union Tongue_.
_Tutonish; a Teutonic International Language_ (1904).
34. Molenaar—_Panroman, skiz de un ling internazional_ (in _Die
Religion der Menschheit_, March 1903); _Esperanto oder Panroman? Das
Weltsprache-problem und seine einfachste Lösung_ (1906); _Universal
Ling-Panroman_ (in _Menschheitsziele_, 1906); _Gramatik de Universal_
(Leipzig, Puttmann, 1906).
35. Peano—_De Latino sine flexione_ (in _Revue de Mathématique_, vol.
viii., Turin, 1903); _Il Latino quale lingua ausiliare internazionale_
(in _Atti della R. Accademia delle Scienze di Torino_ 1904);
_Vocabulario de Latino Internationale comparato cum Anglo, Franco,
Germano, Hispano, Italo, Russo, Graeco, et Sanscrito_ (Turin, 1904). See
also the _Formulario mathematico_, vol. v. (Turin, 1906).
36. Hummler, 1904—_Mundelingua_ (Saulgau).
37. Victor Hely, 1905—_Esquisse d'une grammaire de la langue
Internationale, 1st part: Les mots et la syntaxe_ (Langres).
38. Max Wald, 1906—_Pankel (Weltsprache), die leichteste und kürzeste
Sprache für den internationalen Verkehr. Grammatik und Wörterbuch mit
Aufgabe der Wortquelle_ (Gross-Beeren).
39. Greenwood, 1906—_Ekselsiore, the New Universal Language for All
Nations: a Simplified, Improved Esperanto_ (London, Miller & Gill);
_Ulla, t ulo lingua ä otrs_ (The Ulla Society, Bridlington, 1906).
40. Trischen, 1907—_Mondlingvo, provisorische Aufstellung einer
internationalen Verkehrssprache_ (Pierson, Dresden).
III
THE EARLIEST BRITISH ATTEMPT
A perusal of the foregoing list shows that in the early days of the
search for an international language the British were well to the fore.
Of the British pioneers in this field the first two were Scots—a fact
which accords well with the traditional enterprise north of the Tweed,
and readiness to look abroad, beyond their own noses, or, in this case,
beyond their own tongues. It is likewise remarkable that the British
have almost dropped out of the running in recent times, as far as
origination is concerned. Is this fact also typical, a small symptom
of Jeshurun's general fatness? Does it reflect a lesser degree of
nimbleness in moving with the spirit of the times?
Anyhow, in this case the Briton's content with what he has got at home
is well grounded. He certainly possesses a first-class language. As a
curious example of the quaint use of it by a scholar and clever man in
the middle of the seventeenth century, the following account of Sir
Thomas Urquhart's book may be of some interest.
Sir Thomas is well known as the translator of Rabelais; and evidently
something of the curious erudition, polyglotism, and quaintness of
conceit of his author stuck to the translator. This book is the rarest
of his tracts, all of which are uncommon, and has been hardly more than
mentioned by name by the previous writers on the subject.
The title-page runs:
* * * * *
LOGOPANDEKTEISION
OR, AN INTRODUCTION TO THE UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE,
DIGESTED INTO THESE SIX SEVERAL BOOKS
Neaudethaumata Chryseomystes
Chrestasebeia Neleodicastes
Cleronomaporia Philoponauxesis
By SIR THOMAS URQUHART, of Cromartie, Knight,
Now lately contrived and published both for his own Utilitie,
and that of all Pregnant and Ingenious Spirits.
LONDON
Printed and are to be sold by GILES CALVERT
at the Black Spread-Eagle at the West-end
of Paul's, and by RICHARD TOMLINS at
the Sun and Bible near Pye Corner. 1653.
* * * * *
In a note at the end of the book he apologizes for haste, saying that
the copy was "given out to two several printers, one alone not being
fully able to hold his quill a-going."
The book opens with:
"The Epistle Dedicatory to Nobody."
The first paragraph runs:
"MOST HONOURABLE,
"My non-supponent Lord, and Soveraign Master of contradictions
in adjected terms, that unto you I have presumed to tender the
dedicacie of this introduction, will not seem strange to those, that
know how your concurrence did further me to the accomplishment of
that new Language, into the frontispiece whereof it is permitted."
After some preliminary remarks, he says:
"Now to the end the Reader may be more enamoured of the Language,
wherein I am to publish a grammar and lexicon, I will here set down
some few qualities and advantages peculiar to itself, and which no
Language else (although all other concurred with it) is able to reach
unto."
There follow sixty-six "qualities and advantages," which contain the
only definite information about the language, for the promised grammar
and lexicon never appeared. A few may be quoted as typical of the
inducements held out to "pregnant and ingenious spirits," to the end
they "may be more enamoured of the Language." The good Sir Thomas was
plainly an optimist.
"... Sixthly, in the cases of all the declinable parts of
speech, it surpasseth all other languages whatsoever: for whilst
others have but five or six at most, it hath ten, besides the
nominative.
"... Eighthly, every word capable of number is better provided
therewith in this language, then [_sic_] by any other: for instead of
two or three numbers which others have, this affordeth you four; to
wit, the singular, dual, plural, and redual.
"... Tenthly, in this tongue there are eleven genders; wherein
likewise it exceedeth all other languages.
"... Eleventhly, Verbs, Mongrels, Participles, and Hybrids
have all of them ten tenses, besides the present: which number no
language else is able to attain to.
"... Thirteenthly, in lieu of six moods, which other languages
have at most, this one enjoyeth seven in its conjugable words."
Sir Thomas evidently believed in giving his clients plenty for their
money. He is lavish of "Verbs, Mongrels, Participles, and Hybrids,"
truly a tempting menagerie. He promises, however, a time-reduction on
learning a quantity:
"... Seven and fiftiethly, the greatest wonder of all is that
of all the languages in the world it is easiest to learn; a boy of
ten years old being able to attain to the knowledge thereof in three
months' space; because there are in it many facilitations for the
memory, which no other language hath but itself."
Seventeenth-century boys of tender years must have had a good stomach
for "Mongrels and Hybrids," and such-like dainties of the grammatical
_menu_; but even if they could swallow a mongrel, it is hard to believe
that they would not have strained at ten cases in three months. It might
be called "casual labour," but it would certainly have been "three
months' hard."
After these examples of grammatical generosity, it is not surprising to
read:
"... Fifteenthly, in this language the Verbs and Participles
have four voices, although it was never heard that ever any other
language had above three."
Note that the former colleagues of the "Verbs and Participles," the
"Mongrels and Hybrids," are here dropped out of the category. Perhaps
it is as well, seeing the number of voices attributed to each. A
four-voiced mongrel would have gone one better than the triple-headed
hell-hound Cerberus, and created quite a special Hades of its own for
schoolboys, to say nothing of light sleepers.
Under "five and twentiethly" we learn that "there is no Hexameter,
Elegiack, Saphick, Asclepiad, lambick, or any other kind of Latin or
Greek verse, but I will afford you another in this language of the same
sort"; which leads up to:
"... Six and twentiethly, as it trotteth easily with metrical
feet, so at the end of the career of each line, hath it dexterity,
after the manner of our English and other vernaculary tongues,
to stop with the closure of a rhyme; in the framing whereof, the
well-versed in that language shall have so little labour, that for
every word therein he shall be able to furnish at least five hundred
several monosyllables of the same termination with it."
A remarkable opportunity for every man to become his own poet!
"... Four and thirtiethly, in this language also words
expressive of herbs represent unto us with what degree of cold,
moisture, heat, or dryness they are qualified, together with some
other property distinguishing them from other herbs."
In this crops out the idea that haunted the minds of mediaeval
speculators on the subject: that language could play a more important
part than it had hitherto done; that a word, while conveying an idea,
could at the same time in some way describe or symbolize the attributes
of the thing named. Imagine the charge of thought that could be rammed
into a phrase in such a language. Imagine too, you who remember the
cold shudder of your childhood, when you heard the elders discussing a
prospective dose—intensified by all the horrors of imagination when
the discussion was veiled in the "decent obscurity" of French—imagine
the grim realism of a language containing _words expressive of
herbs_,—and expressive to that extent!
There seems, indeed, to have been something rather cold-blooded about
this language:
"... Eight and thirtiethly, in the contexture of nouns,
pronouns, and preposital articles united together, it administreth
many wonderful varieties of Laconick expressions, as in the Grammar
thereof shall more at large be made known unto you."
But, after all, it had a human side:
"... Three and fourtiethly, as its interjections are more
numerous, so are they more emphatical in their respective expression
of passions, than that part of speech is in any other language
whatsoever.
"... Eight and fourtiethly, of all languages this is the most
compendious in complement, and consequently fittest for Courtiers and
Ladies."
Sir Thomas seems to have been a bit of a man of the world too.
"... Fiftiethly, no language in matter of Prayer and Ejaculations
to Almighty God is able, for conciseness of expression to compare with
it; and therefore, of all other, the most fit for the use of Churchmen
and spirits inclined to devotion."
This "therefore," with its direct deduction from "conciseness of
expression," recalls the lady patroness who chose her incumbents for
being fast over prayers. She said she could always pick out a parson who
read service daily by his time for the Sunday service.
Sir Thomas is perhaps over-sanguine to a modern taste when he concludes:
"Besides the sixty and six advantages above all other languages,
I might have couched thrice as many more of no less consideration
than the aforesaid, but that these same will suffice to sharpen
the longing of the generous Reader after the intrinsecal and most
researched secrets of the new Grammar and Lexicon which I am to
evulge."
IV
HISTORY OF VOLAPÜK—A WARNING
Volapük is the invention of a "white night." Those who know their _Alice
in Wonderland_ will perhaps involuntarily conjure up the picture of the
kindly and fantastic White Knight, riding about on a horse covered with
mousetraps and other strange caparisons, which he introduced to all and
sundry with the unfailing remark, "It's my own invention." Scoffers
will not be slow to find in Volapük and the White Knight's inventions a
common characteristic—their fantasticness. Perhaps there really is some
analogy in the fact that both inventors had to mount their hobby-horses
and ride errant through sundry lands, thrusting their creations on
an unwilling world. But the particular kind of white night of which
Volapük was born is the _nuit blanche_, literally = "white night," but
idiomatically = "night of insomnia."
On the night of March 31, 1879, the good Roman Catholic Bishop Schleyer,
curé of Litzelstetten, near Constance, could not get to sleep. From
his over-active brain, charged with a knowledge of more than fifty
languages, sprang the world-speech, as Athene sprang fully armed from
the brain of Zeus. At any rate, this is the legend of the origin of
Volapük.
As for the name, an Englishman will hardly appreciate the fact that
the word "Volapük" is derived from the two English words "world" and
"speech." This transformation of "world" into _vol_ and "speech" into
_pük_ is a good illustration of the manner in which Volapük is based on
English, and suggests at once a criticism of that all-important point in
an artificial language, the vocabulary. It is too arbitrary.
Published in 1880, Volapük spread first in South Germany, and then in
France, where its chief apostle was M. Kerckhoffs, modern-language
master in the principal school of commerce in Paris. He founded a
society for its propagation, which soon numbered among its members
several well-known men of science and letters. The great Magasins du
Printemps—a sort of French Whiteley's, and familiar to all who have
shopped in Paris—started a class, attended by over a hundred of its
employees; and altogether fourteen different classes were opened in
Paris, and the pupils were of a good stamp.
Progress was extraordinarily rapid in other European countries, and
by 1889, only nine years after the publication of Volapük, there were
283 Volapük societies, distributed throughout Europe, America, and
the British Colonies. Instruction books were published in twenty-five
languages, including Volapük itself; numerous newspapers, in and about
Volapük, sprang up all over the world; the number of Volapükists was
estimated at a million. This extraordinarily rapid success is very
striking, and seems to afford proof that there is a widely felt want for
an international language. Three Volapük congresses were held, of which
the third, held in Paris in 1889, with proceedings entirely in Volapük,
was the most important.
The rapid decline of Volapük is even more instructive than its
sensational rise. The congress of Paris marked its zenith: hopes ran
high, and success seemed assured. Within two years it was practically
dead. No more congresses were held, the partisans dwindled away, the
local clubs dissolved, the newspapers failed, and the whole movement
came to an end. There only remained a new academy founded by Bishop
Schleyer, and here and there a group of the faithful.[1]
[1]A Volapük journal still appears in Graz, Stiria—_Volapükabled
lezenodik_. The editor has just (March 1907) retired, and the veteran
Bishop Schleyer, now seventy-five years old, is taking up the
editorship again.
The chief reason of this failure was internal dissension. First arose
the question of principle: Should Volapük aim at being a literary
language, capable of expressing all the finer shades of thought and
feeling? or should it confine itself to being a practical means of
business communication?
Bishop Schleyer claimed for his invention an equal rank among the
literary languages of the world. The practical party, headed by M.
Kerckhoffs, wished to keep it utilitarian and practical. With the
object of increasing its utility, they proposed certain changes in the
language; and thus there arose, in the second place, differences of
opinion as to fundamental points of structure, such as the nature and
origin of the roots to be adopted. Vital questions were thus reopened,
and the whole language was thrown back into the melting-pot.
The first congress was held at Friedrichshafen in August 1884, and was
attended almost exclusively by Germans. The second congress, Munich,
August 1887, brought together over 200 Volapükists from different
countries. A professor of geology from Halle University was elected
president, and an International Academy of Volapük was founded.
Then the trouble began. M. Kerckhoffs was unanimously elected director
of the academy, and Bishop Schleyer was made grand-master (_cifal_)
for life. Questions arose as to the duties of the academy and the
respective powers of the inventor of the language and the academicians.
M. Kerckhoffs was all along the guiding spirit on the side of the
academy. He was in the main supported by the Volapük world, though there
seems to have been some tendency, at any rate at first, on the part of
the Germans to back the bishop. It is impossible to go into details of
the points at issue. Suffice it to say, that eventually the director
of the academy carried a resolution giving the inventor three votes to
every one of ordinary members in all academy divisions, but refusing him
the right of veto, which he claimed. The bishop replied by a threat to
depose M. Kerckhoffs from the directorship, which of course he could not
make good. The constitution of the academy was only binding inasmuch as
it had been drawn up and adopted by the constituent members, and it gave
no such powers to the inventor.
So here was a very pretty quarrel as to the ownership of Volapük.
The bishop said it belonged to him, as he had invented it: he was
its father. The academy said it belonged to the public, who had a
right to amend it in the common interest. This child, which had newly
opened its eyes and smiled upon the world, and upon which the world
was then smiling back—was it a son domiciled in its father's house
and fully _in patria potestate_? or a ward in the guardianship of its
chief promoters? or an orphan foundling, to be boarded out on the
scattered-home system at the public expense, and to be brought up to be
useful to the community at large? A vexed question of paternity; and the
worst of it was, there was no international court competent to try the
case.
Meantime the congress of 1889 at Paris came on. Volapük was booming
everywhere. Left to itself, it flourished like a green bay-tree. This
meeting was to set an official seal upon its success; and governments,
convinced by this thing done openly in the _ville lumière_, would accept
the _fait accompli_ and introduce it into their schools.
Thirteen countries sent representatives, including Turkey and China.
The great Kerckhoffs was elected president. The proceedings were in
Volapük. The foundling's future was canvassed in terms of himself by
a cosmopolitan board of guardians, who did not yet know what he was.
Rather a Gilbertian situation. Trying a higher flight, we may say, in
Platonic phrase, that Volapük seemed to be about midway between being
and not-being. It is a far cry from Gilbert _viâ_ Plato to Mr. Kipling,
but perhaps Volapük, at this juncture, may be most aptly described as
a "sort of a giddy harumphrodite," if not "a devil an' a ostrich an' a
orphan-child in one."
Business done: The congress discusses.
The congress passed a resolution that there should be drawn up "a simple
normal grammar, from which all useless rules should be excluded," and
proceeded to adopt a final constitution for the Volapük Academy.
Article 15 says: "The decisions of the academy must be at once submitted
to the inventor. If the inventor has not within thirty days protested
against the decisions, they are valid. Decisions not approved by the
inventor are referred back to the academy, and are valid if carried by a
two-thirds majority."
The bishop held out for his right of absolute veto, as his episcopal
fellows and their colleagues are doing "in another place" in England.
The conflict presents some analogy with other graver constitutional
matters, involving discussion of the respective merits of absolute and
suspensive veto, and may therefore have some interest at present, apart
from its great importance in any scheme for an international language.
The upshot was that dissensions broke out within the academy. The
director, unable to carry a complete scheme of reformed grammar,
resigned (1891), and the academy, whose business it was to arrange the
next congress and keep the movement going, never convened a fourth
congress. Several academicians set to work on new artificial languages
of their own; and what was left of the Academy of Volapük, under a new
director, M. Rosenberger, a St. Petersburg railway engineer, elected
1893, subsequently turned its attention to working out a new language,
to which was given the name Idiom Neutral (see next chapter).
* * * * *
It is interesting to note that, when Volapük was nearing its high-water
mark, the American Philosophical Society appointed a committee (October
1887) to inquire into its scientific value.
This committee reported in November 1887. The report states that the
creation of an international language is in conformity with the general
tendency of modern civilization, and is not merely desirable, but
_will certainly be realized._ It goes on to reject Volapük as the
solution of the problem, as being on the whole retrogade in tendency.
It is too arbitrary in construction, and not international enough in
vocabulary; nor does it correspond to the general trend of development
of language, which is away from a synthetic grammar (inflection by means
of terminations, as in Latin and Greek) and towards an analytic one
(inflection by termination replaced by prepositions and auxiliaries).
But the committee was so fully convinced of the importance of an
international language, that it proposed to the Philosophical Society
that it should invite all the learned societies of the world to
co-operate in the production of a universal language. A resolution
embodying this recommendation was adopted by the society, and the
invitations were sent out. About twenty societies accepted—among them
the University of Edinburgh. The Scots again!
The London Philological Society commissioned Mr. Ellis to investigate
the subject, and upon his report declined to co-operate. Mr. Ellis was
a believer in Volapük, and furthermore did not agree with the American
Philosophical Society's conclusion that an international language ought
to be founded on an Indo-Germanic (Aryan) basis. In this Mr. Ellis was
almost certainly wrong, as subsequent experience is tending to show. The
Japanese, among others, are taking up Esperanto with enthusiasm, find
it easy, and make no difficulty about its Aryan basis. But, apart from
linguistic considerations, Mr. Ellis's practical reasoning was certainly
sound. It was to this effect: The main thing is to adopt a language
that is already in wide use and shown to be adequate. Alterations bring
dissension; by sticking to what we have already got, imperfections and
all, strife is avoided, and the thing is at once reduced to practice.
This was a wise counsel, and applies to-day with double force to the
present holder of the field, Esperanto, which is besides, in the opinion
of experts, a better language than Volapük, and far easier to acquire.
However, on the question of technical merits, the American Philosophical
Society was probably right, as against the London Philological Society
represented by Mr. Ellis. And the proof is that Volapük died—primarily,
indeed, of dissensions among its partisans, but of dissensions
superinduced on inherent defects of principle. That this is true may
be seen from the subsequent history of the Volapük movement. This is
briefly narrated in the next chapter, under the name of Idiom Neutral.
V
HISTORY OF IDIOM NEUTRAL
We saw above that M. Kerckhoffs was succeeded in the directorship of the
Volapük Academy, 1893, by M. Rosenberger, of St. Petersburg. During his
term of office the academy continued its work of amending and improving
the language. The method of procedure was as follows: The director
elaborated proposals, which he embodied in circulars and sent round from
time to time to his fellow-academicians. They voted "Yes" or "No," so
that the language, when finished, was approved by them all, and was the
joint product of the academy; but it was, in its new form, to a great
extent, the work of the director. At the end of his term of office it
was practically complete. It had undergone a complete transformation,
and was now called Idiom Neutral.
In 1898 M. Rosenberger was succeeded by Rev. A.F. Holmes, of Macedon,
New York State. The members of the academy vary from time to time, and
include (or have included since 1898) natives of America, Belgium,
Denmark, England, France, Germany, Holland, Italy, and Russia.
Dictionaries of Idiom Neutral have been published in English (in
America), German, and Dutch; but the language hardly seems to be in
use except among the members of the academy. These do not meet, but
carry on their business by means of circulars, drawn up, of course, in
Neutral. There are at present only four groups of Neutralists—those of
St. Petersburg, Nuremberg, Brussels, and San Antonio, Texas. The famous
linguistic club of Nuremberg is remarkable for having gone through the
evolution from Volapük to Idiom Neutral _viâ_ Esperanto! Besides these
four groups, there are isolated Neutralists in certain towns in Great
Britain. The academy seems still to have some points to settle, and the
work of propaganda has hardly yet begun.
A paper published in Brussels, under the name of _Idei International_,
seems to represent the ideas of scattered Neutralists, and of some
partisans of other schemes based on Romance vocabulary. These languages
resemble each other greatly, and some sanguine spirits dream that they
may be fused together into the ultimate international language. A
few even hope for an amalgamation with Esperanto, through the medium
of a reformed type of Esperanto, which approximates more nearly
to these newer schemes, its vocabulary being, like theirs, almost
entirely Romance. A series of modifications was published tentatively
by Dr. Zamenhof himself in 1894, but was suppressed from practical
considerations, having regard to the fate that overtook Volapük, when
once it fell into the hands of reformers. The so-called reforms never
represented the real ideas of Zamenhof, and were rather in the nature
of reluctant concessions to the weaker brethren. They were never
introduced.
The reader may be interested to compare for himself specimens of
Volapük, Idiom Neutral (its lineal descendant), and Esperanto. This
Esperanto is the only one in use, most Esperantists having never even
heard of the reform project, which was at once dropped, before the
language had entered upon its present cosmopolitan extension. The
following versions of the Lord's Prayer are taken from MM. Couturat and
Leau's _History_, as are the facts in the above narratives, with the
exception of the latest details:
VOLAPÜK
O Fat obas, kel binol in süls, paisaludomöz nem ola! Kömomöd monargän
ola! Jenomöz vil olik, äs in sül, i su tal! Bodi obsik vädeliki givolös
obes adelo! E pardolös obes debis obsik, äs id obs aipardobs debeles
obas. E no obis nindukolös in tentadi; sod aidalivolös obis de bad.
Jenosöd!
IDIOM NEUTRAL[1]
Nostr patr kel es in sieli! Ke votr nom es sanktifiked; ke votr regnia
veni; ke votr volu es fasied, kuale in siel, tale et su ter. Dona
sidiurne a noi nostr pan omnidiurnik; e pardona (a) noi nostr debiti,
kuale et noi pardon a nostr debtatori; e no induka noi in tentasion, ma
librifika noi da it mal.
[1]There are two forms of Idiom Neutral,—one called "pure,"
authorized by the academy; the other used in the paper _Idei
International_.
ESPERANTO
Patro nia, kiu estas en la ĉielo, sankta estu via nomo; venu regeco
via; estu volo via, kiel en la ĉielo, tiel ankaŭ sur la tero. Panon
nian ĉiutagan donu al ni hodiaŭ; kaj pardonu al ni ŝuldojn niajn,
kiel ni ankaŭ pardonas al niaj ŝuldantoj; kaj ne konduku nin en
tenton, sed liberigu nin de la malbono.
Comparing Volapük with Idiom Neutral, even this brief specimen is
enough to show the main line of improvement. The framers of the latter
had realized the fact that the vocabulary is the first and paramount
consideration for an artificial language. It is hopeless to expect
people to learn strings of words of arbitrary formation and like
nothing they ever saw. Accordingly Idiom Neutral borrows its vocabulary
from natural speech, and thereby abandons a regularity which may be
theoretically more perfect, but which by arbitrary disfigurement of
familiar words overreaches itself, and does more harm than good.
It is very instructive to note that a body of international language
specialists were brought little by little to adopt an almost exclusively
Romance vocabulary, and this in spite of the fact that they started from
Volapük, whose vocabulary is constructed on quite other lines. In other
points their language suffers from being too exclusively inspired by
Volapükist principles, so that their recognition of the necessity of an
_a posteriori_ vocabulary is the more convincing.
Given, then, that vocabulary is to be borrowed and not created anew,
it is obvious that the principle of borrowing must be _maximum of
internationality of roots_—i.e. those words will be adopted by
preference which are already common to the greatest number of chief
languages. Now, by far the greater number of such international words
(which are far more numerous than was thought before a special study was
made of the subject) are Romance, being of Latin origin. This is the
justification of the prevalence of the Romance element in any modern
artificial language. It has been frequently made a reproach against
Esperanto that it is a Romance language; but the unanimous verdict of
the competent linguists who composed the academy for the emendation of
Volapük may be taken as final. They threshed the question out once for
all, and their conclusion derives added force from the fact that it is
the result of conversion.
But it may be doubted whether they have not gone rather far in this
direction and overshot the mark.
Comparing Idiom Neutral with Esperanto, it will be found that the
latter admits a larger proportion of non-Romance words. While fully
recognizing and doing justice to the accepted principle of selection,
maximum of internationality, Esperanto sometimes gives the preference to
a non-Romance word in order to avoid ambiguity and secure a perfectly
distinct root from which to form derivatives incapable of confusion
with others.[1] There is always a good reason for the choice; but it is
easier to appreciate this after learning the language.
[1]It is obvious, too, that English, Germans, and Slavs will be more
attracted to a language which borrows some of its features from their
own tongues, than to an entirely Romance language. This relatively
wider international appeal is another advantage of Esperanto.
But a mere comparison of the brief texts given above will bring out
another point in favour of Esperanto—its full vocalic endings. On the
other hand, many words in Idiom Neutral present a mutilated appearance
to the eye, and, what is a much greater sin in an international
language, offer grave difficulties of pronunciation to speakers of
many nations. Words ending with a double consonant are very frequent,
e.g. _nostr patr_; and these will be unpronounceable for many nations,
e.g. for an Italian or a Japanese. Euphony is one of the strongest
of the many strong points of Esperanto. In it the principle of
maximum of internationality has been applied to _sounds_ as well as
_forms_, and there are very few sounds that will be a stumbling-block
to any considerable number of speakers. Some of its modern rivals
seem to forget that a language is to be spoken as well as written.
When a language is unfamiliar to the listener, he is greatly aided
in understanding it if the vowel-sounds are long and full and the
pronunciation slow, almost drawling. Esperanto fulfils these requisites
in a marked degree. It is far easier to dwell upon two-syllabled words
with full vocalic endings like _patro nia_ than upon awkward words like
_nostr patr_.
Yet another advantage of Esperanto is illustrated in the same texts.
Owing to its system of inflexion and the possession of an objective
case, it is extremely flexible, and can put the words in almost any
order, without obscuring the sense. Thus, in the translation of the
_Pater Noster_, the Esperanto text follows the Latin _word for word
and in the same order_. It is obvious that this flexibility confers
great advantages for purposes of faithful and spirited translation.
VI
THE NEWEST LANGUAGES: A NEO-LATIN GROUP—GROPINGS
TOWARDS A "PAN-EUROPEAN" AMALGAMATED SCHEME
A perusal of the list of schemes proposed (pp. 76-87 [Part II, Chapter
II]) shows that the last few years have produced quite a crop of
artificial languages. Now that the main principles necessary to success
are coming to be recognized, the points of difference between the rival
schemes are narrowing down, and, as mentioned in the last chapter, there
is a family likeness between many of the newer projects. The chief of
these are: Idiom Neutral; Pan-Roman or Universal, by Dr. Molenaar;
Latino sine flexione, by Prof. Peano; Mundolingue; Nuove-Roman; and
Lingua Komun.
These have been grouped together by certain adversaries as "Neo-Roman";
but their partisans seem to prefer the collective term "Neo-Latin."
There are more or less vague hopes that out of them may be evolved a
final form of international language, for which the names _Pan-European_
and _Union-Ling_ have been suggested. Dr. Molenaar has declared his
willingness to keep to his original title, Pan-Roman, for his own
language, if the composite one should prefer to be called _Universal_.
Prof. Peano says, in the course of an article (written in his own
language, of course), "any fresh solution in the future can only differ
from Idiom Neutral, as two medical or mathematical treatises dealing
with the same subject."
The only definite scheme for common action put forth up to now
seems to be that proposed by Dr. Molenaar. In January 1907 he sent
round a circular written in French, in which he makes the following
propositions:
All authors and notable partisans of Neo-Latin universal languages shall
meet in a special academy, which will elaborate a compromise-language.
As regards the programme, the three fundamental principles shall be:
1. Internationality and comprehensibility.
2. Simplicity and regularity.
3. Homogeneity and euphony.
Of these principles, No. 1 is to take precedence of No. 2, and No. 2 of
No. 3.
The order of discussion is to be:
I. GRAMMAR
(_a_) Alphabet.
(_b_) Articles (necessary or not?).
(_c_) Declension.
(_d_) Plural (_-s_ or _-i_?).
(_e_) Adjective (invariable or not?).
(_f_) Adverb, etc.
II. VOCABULARY
The number of collaborators is to be limited to about twenty, and the
chairman is to be a non-partisan.
* * * * *
Such, in outline, is the proposal of Dr. Molenaar. An obvious criticism
is that it falls back into the old mistake of putting grammar before
vocabulary.
From a practical point of view such a composite scheme is not likely
to meet with acceptance. It will be very hard for authors of languages
to be impartial and sacrifice their favourite devices to the common
opinion. M. Bollack, author of the _Langue bleue_, has already refused
the chairmanship. He does not see the use of founding a fresh academy,
and thinks Dr. Molenaar would do better to join forces with the
Neutralists.
There exists indeed already an "Akademi International de Lingu
Universal," which has produced Idiom Neutral, and of which Mr. Holmes
is still director, now in his second term (see preceding chapter).
This academy is said to be too one-sided in its composition, and not
scientific. But it is hard to see how it will abdicate in favour of a
new one.
Meantime, the victorious Esperantists, at present in possession of the
field, poke fun at these new-fangled schemes. A parody in Esperanto
verse, entitled _Lingvo de Molenaar_, and sung to the tune of the
American song _Riding down from Bangor_, narrates the fickleness of
Pan-Roman and how it changed into Universal. It is said that a group of
Continental Esperantists, at a convivial sitting, burnt the apostate
Idiom Neutral in effigy by making a bonfire of Neutral literature. On
the other side amenities are not wanting. It is now the fashion to sling
mud at a rival language by calling it "arbitrary" and "fantastic"; and
these epithets are freely applied to Esperanto. Strong in their cause,
the Esperantists are peacefully preparing the Congress of Cambridge.
VII
HISTORY OF ESPERANTO
Happy is the nation that has no history,—still happier the
international language; for a policy of "pacific penetration" offers few
picturesque incidents to furnish forth a readable narrative. In the case
of Esperanto there have been no splits or factions; no narrow ring of
oligarchs has cornered the language for its own purposes, or insisted
upon its aristocratic and non-popular side in the supposed interests of
culture or literary taste; consequently there has been no secession of
the _plebs_. In the early days of Esperanto there was indeed an attempt
to found an Esperanto league; but when it was seen that the league did
little beyond suggest alterations, it was wisely dissolved in 1894.
Since then Esperanto has been run purely on its merits as a language,
and has expressly dissociated itself from any political, pacifist, or
other propaganda. Its story is one of quiet progress—at first very
slow, but within the last five years wonderfully rapid, and still
accelerating. The most sensational episode in this peaceful advance
was the prohibition of the principal Esperantist organ by the Russian
censorship, so that there is little to do, save record one or two
leading facts and dates.
The inventor of Esperanto is a Polish doctor, Ludwig Lazarus Zamenhof,
now living in Warsaw. He was born in 1859 at Bielostock, a town which
has lately become notorious as the scene of one of the terrible
Russian _pogroms_, or interracial butcheries. This tragedy was only
the culmination of a chronic state of misunderstanding, which long
ago so impressed the young Zamenhof that, when still quite a boy, he
resolved to labour for the removal of one cause of it by facilitating
mutual intercourse. He has practically devoted his life first to the
elaboration of his language, and of later years to the vast amount of
business that its extension involves. And it has been a labour of love.
Zamenhof is an idealist. His action, in all that concerns Esperanto,
has been characterized throughout by a generosity and self-effacement
that well correspond to the humanitarian nature of the inspiration that
produced it. He has renounced all personal rights in and control of the
Esperanto language, and kept studiously in the background till the first
International Congress two years ago forced him into the open, when he
emerged from his retirement to take his rightful place before the eyes
of the peoples whom his invention had brought together.
But he is not merely an idealist: he is a practical idealist. This is
shown by his self-restraint and practical wisdom in guiding events.
One of the symptoms of "catching Esperanto" is a desire to introduce
improvements. This morbid propensity to jejune amateur tinkering, a kind
of measles of the mind (_morbus linguificus_[1]) attacks the immature in
years or judgment. A riper acquaintance with the history and practical
aims of international language purges it from the system. We have all
been through it. For the inventor of Esperanto, accustomed for so many
years to retouch, modify, and revise, it must require no ordinary
degree of self-control to keep his hands off, and leave the fate of
his offspring to others. It grew with his growth, developing with his
experience, and he best knows where the shoe pinches and what might yet
be done. But he has the fate of Volapük before his eyes. He knows that,
having wrought speech for the people, he must leave it to the people, if
he wishes them to use and keep using it.
[1]An expressive (homoeopathic) name for this malady may be coined
in Esperanto: _malsano lingvotrudema_ = officious or intrusive
disease, consisting in an itch for coining language.