Along with the purge, Schleyer strengthened the movement's organiza- tional muscle, in keeping with the strict hierarchical principles he had im- posed at its inception. This meant refining the organizations pyramid-like structure with a more detailed distribution of the privileges and responsi- bilities of each hierarchical level. At the lowest rung were the students or ju- lans, who could correspond with other Volapukists (as spodels), and/or join a local club informally (as kopanels). Full membership in the movement, how- ever, could only be obtained by earning a diploma in the language. Graduate Volapukists could correspond with other members (as spodals) and compete for leadership positions in their clubs in their new capacity as kopanels. On the rung above club leaders (cifs) were the regional or national leaders (cifels) and federal-level leaders (lecifs). The position of continental leader, or lecifel, was also defined although never filled. Similarly, there was a hierarchy among language instructors, which encompassed club instructors (tidels), city in- structors (lopitidels), and country-level "professors" orplofeds. Xamels, at the country level, would be responsible for granting teaching certificates. In a higher position were the kademals, or members of Schleyer's Academy. It was possible to be a kademal and a cifel at the same time. Even higher on the lad- der were the senatans, or members of the Senate, a small body of Schleyer's personal advisers, appointed at his discretion. And finally, in his capacity of cifal, or permanent and supreme leader of the movement, Schleyer could re- peal the appointments made by clubs and organizations by not ratifying them in the official journal, the Volapukabled zenodik, where Schleyer published his decisions, or "edicts," which were binding for all.18
In the period immediately following the Paris Congress, Schleyer man- aged to retain a substantial part of the remaining membership, but this purge and organizational tune-up ultimately failed to stem the tide of disillusion- ment in the movement. Many members could not withstand the mockery of journalists and linguists, echoed by a large portion of the educated popula- tion. But even more were alienated by the authoritarianism of the cifal, which made the organization more closely resemble a religious sect. Neither was it helpful that Schleyer himself began to make changes in the grammar and vo- cabulary, which obliged his loyal supporters to purchase new dictionaries and unlearn old words. Unsurprisingly, there were more desertions, first among the now disillusioned supporters, such as Kirchhoff, and later among the most loyal, such as Rupert Kniele, Schleyer's designated successor and most ardent devotee, who in 1895 gave up and abandoned the movement.19 In 1894 only fifty local associations remained active of the two hundred and fifty that had flourished the five previous years. In 1905, nine were still operating, but the last two were dissolved four years later. At that time, Volapuk was practically
dead.20
CHAPTER6
"MyTroubled Child": The Artist and the Kulturkampf
What accounts for Volapuk's demise? In the battle of artificial languages that it initiated, Volapuk had the incumbent's advantage. In a short time it had kindled the enthusiasm of a large number of educated people, willing to en- dure criticism and mockery from their peers and firmly convinced that the definitive international language had arrived. In addition, Volapuk had prevailed over upstart rivals such as Spelin and Pasilingua. For many, its ul- timate triumph seemed assured. In the words of the younger Edgar de Wahl, whom we meet later:
I remember when I came into contact with Volapuk. I did not like it at all. I was really unhappy with every aspect of it. However, the fact that by that time Volapuk had 28 journals and 283 associations all over the world looked so remarkable that, somehow, one was para- lyzed. I had the feeling that matters had already been settled and that it was pointless to raise objections. . . . The idea that something else might emerge, that something better could be proposed, did not occur to me even in my dreams.1
And yet, the Volapukists failed. Instead of exploiting their position as the first movers, they squandered it. Reformists and conservatives had been play- ing a classic coordination game, and even when both could have benefited from mutual agreement, it was impossible to attain. As Ludwig Zamenhof him- self admitted to his supporters, had the Volapukists been able to cooperate internally to fix or standardize their language in time, "we all would be probably speaking Volapuk today."2
But this was not the case. The Volapukists had cleared a path that adher- ents had only to follow. Internal movement dynamics, however, impeded their attempts to lengthen that path and encouraged other potential rivals to open a new one. Contemporaries blamed Schleyer for this failure, and probably rightly so. He had been granted the most powerful position in the movement, from which he would have been able to delay and force the reconsideration of any reform proposal, but this was not enough: nothing less than absolute control could satisfy him.
Schleyer certainly could have acted differently and helped reach a com- promise satisfactory to all. So why did he choose instead to place his entire project in jeopardy? One explanation is rooted in his self-regard, his attach- ment to his language, and what Volapuk meant to him. This was in direct contradiction to Kerckhoffs's position. While the latter viewed Volapuk in strictly utilitarian terms, Schleyer stressed its aesthetic dimension.3 He was particularly inclined to experiment with language, to stretch and distort its limits. He enjoyed experiments with German spelling, reflected in his writ- ings, much to the chagrin of his supporters.4 He was also a polyglot. He had not learned other languages to obtain material or career advantages, but merely to explore the plasticity of language. He saw himself as a poet, an artist who worked with words. Artists do not negotiate colors or materials, or let a demo- cratic assembly make decisions about aesthetics issues. Artists do not allow others to make brushstrokes on their paintings. Volapuk was his creation. It was to be admired or imitated, but he alone had the right to make it more graceful or beautiful. It was his masterpiece, in constant need of protection. As he put it: "Volapuk is my troubled child, my needy child, my bullied child."5 The archbishop of Freiburg used this cliche of the artist as a passionate, immature, and childish character in Schleyer's obituary: