CONCERNING THE FUTURE.

"We are none of us infallible, even the youngest."

The Editor of The Esperantist desires to send as early as possible his most hearty expression of thanks to his readers for the kind letters which he daily receives. In the first article of the first Esperantist a request was put forward that one should send proposals for the improvement of the youngest of Esperanto journals. In consequence of this, many friends have written their opinions on the subject.

To begin at the beginning, some friends-in-Esperanto criticised the somewhat greenness of the cover. But we have also received many letters, especially from our lady readers, fully approving of it. We therefore think it would be regrettable to change it without unanimous consent; thus the second number has a similar green exterior.

But the most serious criticisms were concerning the interior. Some readers found that an undivided page was somewhat difficult to read. Especially in the interesting original work, "The Italian Summer," did they experience this. Although undivided pages have a more pleasant appearance, we will not continue them any more, and thank the friends who pointed out the defect.

An adept Esperantist thought the standard was too high; that the second Gazette could not be as interesting as the first, and so on. This truly would be a most serious matter, and British Esperantists must take care that the prophecy be not verified. We are quite certain that if one will only send as many articles as possible—especially original works—sufficiently interesting Gazettes will result.

The same critic also opined that there was not enough English in the first number. It contains only sixteen pages, and the majority of readers desire to read Esperanto matter, not English. One of our painstaking collaborators has promised to mark all words not to be found in the Textbook, and we will always give their meanings. In this manner we hope to please those who wish to see more in English, without limiting the interesting matter.

Among the friends who have written of the great purpose of Esperanto, one has said "Xenophon led the lost Greeks through the barren eastern land of poetry, sand, and romance. And you, my friend-in-Esperanto, must—by means of your Gazette—guide the dreamy Esperantists down into the everyday land of pork and beans!"

Truly this is good counsel, for Esperanto must be a "Bread and butter language" for commerce and daily life. But do our readers wish us never to print poetry and interesting narratives? The majority of the letters which continue to arrive daily contain congratulations on the poems and short stories.

Another helper of this beneficent movement has weighty international relations with foreign firms, and has proposed that all commercial Esperantists should write to their foreign clients, submitting Esperanto as a suitable auxiliary language, and asking them to learn it for future communications. A most excellent idea! If this be approved, the Esperanto Club will have circulars printed and will distribute them among its commercial members. The Hon. Sec. will be glad to receive specimens of the proposed announcement.

Again thanking all collaborators, we appeal for original work for the Gazette. In every land it is the same. One finds a great number of people, sceptics, who continually say, "Oh! I see that your language is only good for translations. When you have your own literature I will take up the study of Esperanto. But, at present, I prefer my national tongue."

I wrote this request to our good friend, Mr. Ben Elmy, and, as a result, our readers now have the great pleasure of reading an Esperanto poem with English translation. Other friends have already responded to this appeal, and all must thank them most heartily for the great help they have given to Esperanto in so doing. Although translations are very acceptable, original works are, without doubt, worthy of precedence.

Literal translation.

WHAT MAX MÜLLER SAID.

I wonder whether the columns of The Esperantist are disposed freely to admit that ever-present personal pronoun, "I." I am perhaps bold in introducing it, but I cannot help thinking that a new language must have to put up with some of the inconveniences, at least, that all old languages have had to tolerate.

What I have to relate is but a little personal souvenir, but it is connected with the name of a great linguist, and an authority well worth quoting.

I was in Venice, not standing between a palace and a prison, but gliding along the canals of the fairy city in a gondola, as every mortal should if he desires to realise that life is worth living. I was reading an article, "Reminiscences," by Max Müller, which delighted me so that the first thing I did on returning home was to write to him, somewhat on these lines—

"I am a stranger to you, and if I don’t write on the spur of the moment, I should not venture to do so at all. Yet surely we ought to know one another. You, a godson of Max Maria von Weber, and I a godson of Felix Mendelssohn! You learnt your Latin and Greek in Leipzig, and so did I; only you went to the Nicolai-Schule and I to the Thomas-Schule, which accounts for the difference in the result. But we must have eaten our schoolboy apples from the same old woman’s basket in the Grimmaische Strasse, etc., etc."

Well, Max Müller answered in the kindest spirit. He had heard my father play with Mendelssohn, and he had seen a picture of mine, so we were not strangers. Would I come to Oxford on my return to England and be his guest.

Some months later I went, and spent several days at his house. There was a unique opportunity of fully ascertaining his views on the adoption of a universal language.

"Is such a thing possible?" I asked him. "Never mind which language is to be selected. I want your authority to silence those who look upon anything of the kind as chimerical."

"Well," he said, "you must go to younger people for an answer to that. You know that I have given it as my opinion that Esperanto is the best attempt at a universal language yet made, and that is as much as I can say." I pressed him, perhaps rather unduly, but without success.

But as I was leaving his hospitable house he handed me back a little album (a godfather’s gift from Mendelssohn), in which I had asked him to inscribe his name, and I read—"Is a universal language possible? Yes.—M.M."

Felix Moscheles.