THE BIRTH OF ESPERANTO.

Freely translated, from an Esperanto version of a Private Letter

of Dr. Zamenhof written in Russian, by John Ellis.

"... You ask me how it was that the idea of creating an international

language occurred to me, and what was the history of the Esperanto

language from the time of its birth till to-day? The entire public

history of the language, that is to say, beginning from the day when

I gave it to the world, is more or less known to you; further, it is

not opportune now, for many reasons, to touch upon that period; I

will consequently relate to you, in general lines, merely the story

of the birth of my language.

"It would be difficult for me to tell you all this in detail, for

much of it I have myself forgotten. The idea, to the realisation of

which I have dedicated my whole life, struck me (it is ridiculous to

mention it) in my earliest childhood, and from that time never left

me. This circumstance will partly explain why I have laboured upon

the matter with so much determination, and why, in spite of all

difficulties and hardships, I have not abandoned the idea, as many

other working in the same field have done.

"I was born in Bielstock, in the department of Grodno (Russia), where

I spent the days of my boyhood. This fortuitous circumstance

determined the direction of my future ambitions, for the inhabitants

of Bielstock are of four different nationalities--Russians, Poles,

Germans, and Jews--each of which speaks a separate language, and is

on bad terms with the others. There, more than anywhere else, an

impressionable nature feels the heavy misfortune of diversity of

tongues. One is convinced at every step that the diversity of

language is the only, or at least the chief, cause which separates

the human family and divides it into inimical sections.

"I was brought up as an idealist. I was taught that all men are

brothers; meanwhile in the street and at home everything, at every

step, compelled me to feel that _humanity_ does not exist, that there

are only Russians, Poles, Germans, Jews, etc. This thought ever

deeply troubled my boyish mind--although many may smile at the

thought of a lad sorrowing for humanity. But at that time it seemed

to me that the 'grown ups' possessed an almighty power, and I said to

myself that when I was grown up I would utterly dissipate this evil.

"Little by little I became convinced, of course, that these things

were not so practicable as in my boyhood I had imagined; one by one I

cast aside my various childish utopias, but the dream of one single

tongue for all mankind I never could dispel. In a dim fashion, without

any defined plan, in some way it allured me. I do not remember when,

but, at all events, it was very early, I arrived at the consciousness

that an international language was possible only if it were neutral

and belonged to none of the now-existing nationalities.

"When I passed from the Bielstock Gymnasium[73] to the Second

Classical School of Warsaw, I was for some time seduced by the dead

languages, and dreamed that some day I would travel throughout the

world, and in flaming words persuade mankind to revive one of these

languages for the common use. Subsequently, I do not now remember

how, the conviction came to me that that was an impossibility, and I

began, indistinctly, to dream of a new and artificial language. I

often made attempts, inventing a profusion of declensions and

conjugations, but the language of man, with, as it seemed to me, its

endless mass of grammatical forms, its hundreds of thousands of words

and ponderous dictionaries, appeared to be such a colossal, and yet

tricky, machine that many a time I exclaimed--'Away with dreams! this

labour is beyond human powers!' But, in spite of all, I always

returned to my dream.

"In childhood (before I could make comparisons or work out

conclusions) I had learnt French and German, but when, being in the

5th class of the gymnasium, I began to study English, the simplicity

of its grammar flashed upon my comprehension, thanks, chiefly, to the

wearisome ploughing through the Greek and Latin grammars. I observed

that the rich wealth of grammatical forms was not a necessity, but

merely the blind result of accidental history. Under that influence I

recommenced my research into language, and discarded the unnecessary

forms, and I noticed that the grammar ever and ever melted under my

hands, and soon I arrived at a tiny grammar, which, without causing

any disadvantage to the language, occupied only a few pages. Then I

began to devote myself to my dream more seriously. Still, the giant

dictionaries left me no peace of mind.

"One day, when I was in the 6th or 7th class at the gymnasium, my

attention was, by chance, turned to the sign 'Ŝvejtskaja'

(drink-shop), and close by to the sign 'Konditorskaja' (sweet-shop).

Although I had seen it many times before, this 'skaja' aroused my

interest, and showed me that by means of suffixes I might make one

word into others, which need not be separately learned. This thought

took complete possession of me, and all at once I felt the ground

beneath my feet. A ray of light had fallen upon the terrific giant

dictionaries, and they began to shrink rapidly before my eyes.

"'The problem is solved,' I cried. I seized this idea of suffixes,

and began to work hard upon it. I understood how important it was to

make full use of this power--which, in natural languages, plays only

a partial, blind, irregular and incomplete _rôle_--when consciously

creating a new language. I began to compare words, to examine their

constant and defined relationships, and every day I cast out from the

dictionary a fresh vast series of words, substituting for this mass a

single suffix, which signified a certain fixed relationship. I next

remarked that a great number of words, hitherto regarded purely as

'roots' (such as 'mother,' 'narrow,' 'knife'), might easily be

treated as 'formed words,' and disappear from the dictionary. The

mechanism of language stood before me as though it were upon the palm

of my hand, and, inspired by love and hope, I began to work

systematically. After that I soon had the entire grammar and a small

dictionary in manuscript."

The Esperantist, Complete · 第 265 / 1137 题