translation – Union Of Egoists https://www.unionofegoists.com History, Biography and Bibliography of Egoism + Der Geist Journal Tue, 15 Oct 2019 00:53:33 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.1 https://i0.wp.com/www.unionofegoists.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/cropped-UoE-Icon.jpg?fit=32%2C32&ssl=1 translation – Union Of Egoists https://www.unionofegoists.com 32 32 106625718 Schumm’s “Nietzsche on Egoism” from Liberty https://www.unionofegoists.com/2019/08/05/schumms-nietzsche-on-egoism-from-liberty/ Tue, 06 Aug 2019 01:30:47 +0000 https://www.unionofegoists.com/?p=8273

The following translations by George Schumm of Nietzsche appeared in the April 1896 issue of Liberty (1881) (Volume 11, No.25, Whole No. 337). 1896 was the same year the first full volume translations of Nietzsche appeared, and Arthur Desmond, aka Ragnar Redbeard, arrived in America.

George Schumm was a long-time compatriot of Benjamin Tucker. He assisted in the translation of The Ego and His Own and published his own weekly journal in the 1880’s titled “Radical Review” (Chicago). Schumm also translated The Anarchists : A Picture of Civilization at the Close of the Nineteenth Century by John Henry Mackay.

You can learn more about the early Nietzscheans in Stand Alone (2016) journal issue: The Nietzsche Movement in England: A Retrospect, A Confession, and a Prospect by Oscar Levy.

 

Nietzsche on Egoism.

[Translated from the German by George Schumm.]

A good author who really has his cause at heart longs for someone to come and replace him by presenting the same cause more clearly and by more completely answering the questions raised by it. The loving girl longs to prove the devoted fidelity of her love through the infidelity of her lover. The soldier longs to die on the battlefield for his victorious coun­try; for in the victory of his country his highest aspirations are also victorious. The mother gives to her child what she denies to herself,—sleep, the best food, if need be her health, her property. But are all these unegoistic conditions? Are these actions of morality miracles because, in Schopenhauer’s language, they are “impossible and yet real”? Is it not clear that in all these cases a man loves some part of himself, a thought, a desire, a product, more than some other part of himself; that he thus divides his nature, and sacrifices the one part to the other? Is there anything essentially different in the declaration of an obstinate man: “I will rather be shot down than go a step out of the way of this fellow ”? There is, in all of the above cases, an inclination toward something (wish, im­pulse, desire); to yield to it, with all the consequences, is certainly not “unegoistic.”—Menscliliches Allzumenschliches.

There is no help: we must mercilessly put on trial and cross-question the sentiments of devotion, of self-sacrifice, the whole morality of unselfishness, as well as the aesthetic of “disinterested contemplation,” un­der which the emasculation of art seeks alluringly enough to create for itself a good conscience to-day. There is too much of moonshine and sugar in those sentiments, in this “for others,” in this “not for my­self,” so that there should be no need here of being doubly suspicious and of asking: “ Are they perhaps the language of the—seducer?” That they please—him who has them, and him who enjoys their fruits, also the mere spectator,—this furnishes no argument for them, but invites prudence. Let us be prudent, then!—Jenseits von Gut und Bose.

In listening to the now so popular phrase of the “ disinterested,” one must consider, perhaps not without some danger, in what the people really take an in­terest, and what are, in general, the things about which the common man concerns himself thoroughly and profoundly,—including the educated, even the savants, and, unless all signs mislead, almost also the philosophers. Thereby the fact is brought out that most of what interests and fascinates every superior nature appears to the average man as entirely “uninteresting if he, nevertheless, observes a devotion to it, he calls it “désintéressé,” and wonders how it is possible to act “disinterestedly.” There have been philosophers who knew how to invest this popular wonderment with an alluring and mystically other­worldly aspect (perhaps because they did not know the superior nature from experience?), instead of setting forth the plain and naked truth that the disinterested action is a very interesting and interested action, pro­vided. . . . “And love?” What! even love you would make out to be “unegoistic”? Dunces!

“And the praise of the self-sacrificing?” But whoso has really made sacrifices knows that he wanted and got something for them—perhaps something from him­self—that he gave here in order to have more there, perhaps in order generally to be more, or at any rate to feel himself as “more.” But this is a realm of questions and answers in which a pampered spirit does not like to tarry: so necessary is it here already for truth, if she must answer, to suppress yawning. And she is a woman: one must not do violence to her.Jenseits von Gut und Bose.

“Science” as Prejudice.—It follows from the laws of the order of rank (Rangordnung) that savants, in so far as they belong to the intellectual middle class, do not even see the truly great problems and question-marks: besides, their courage, and likewise their vision, do not reach so far,—above all, the need which makes of them investigators, their inner wish and anticipation that things might be ordered so and so, their fears and hopes, are too soon satisfied and set at rest. That, for instance, which makes the pedantical Englishman, Herbert Spencer, dream after his fashion, and causes him to draw a line of hope, a horizon-line of desirability, the final reconciliation of “egoism and altruism,” of which he fables, gives to persons of our kind almost a feeling of nausea; a humanity with such Spencerian perspectives as final perspectives would seem to us as worthy of contempt, of destruction! But already that something must be experienced by him as a highest hope which is, and rightly may be, to others, only a repulsive possibility, is a question-mark which Spencer could not have fore­seen. —Frohliche Wissenschaft.

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Three translated poems of E. Armand https://www.unionofegoists.com/2018/01/29/three-translated-poems-of-emile-armand/ Mon, 29 Jan 2018 16:42:04 +0000 https://www.unionofegoists.com/?p=6288 The following poems were originally published in So sang an “outsider” in 1925. They were translated by “J.” in 2004.


The dream

I dream of a country without suffering
where no one groans under the weight of solitude,
and hearts dared to hope,
with no layers of darkness blackening their desires.
A country without tears and sadness,
where happiness would replace torment,
I dream of a country without suffering,
where one could live with integrity.
I dream of a country where all the smells of misery
would be impossible, where neither hunger nor cold
was suffered by anyone, where free, full,
brilliant, life could finally live.
I dreamt of a country where fecund science
would stir in everyone a noble an beautiful desire,
the desire to know, without heavy and burdensome
limits confining the flight of the mind.
I dreamt of a country where without any difference,
without the vulgar goals of gold and honor,
but acting upon the stimulus of common accord
the most diverse projects would be carried out.
It is not in heaven, this country I dreamt of,
It is in our world, full of prejudices and errors,
and from which we would like to flee, towards a new end —
it is upon this bitter world that its foundation awaits.
It is amongst those who are tired of stalling and obstacles,
amongst those who have decided to act here and now
that the radiant sun of all our dreams will shine;
if our will is founded on one alone.

Sensibility

I’d prefer to tremble in the heat of battle
To hear the crash of cannon’s echoing fear
Standing amongst the dead and half dead,
Harvested by the shrapnel,
Than to see your eyes fill with tears.
I’d prefer to face a bandit assaulting me
In the night, in the middle of the woods, see
Shivering rays tear across the sky. But
I cannot resist for a moment
The sad pearls your eyes fashion.
And if others think it is pure laziness,
That I am a child broken by emotion,
I won’t respond, it doesn’t hurt me.
I have no hatred for those of frozen soul,
But I don’t understand those who can see
Their love cry, insensitive and calm.

Progress or dementia?

Because, feverish, he says “I can go faster,
And I want to elevate myself higher: As a somber prisoner
I travel the world, which in every way is narrow to me,
To languish in it. I still don’t accept
The torrents dotting the skies with their idyll slowly,
And the antique trill of the gallant nightingale,
They are no longer of my time. I would like a push
Towards the new, the unforeseen… or to find in myself
A still-hidden nook. Mountains, oceans, valleys,
Rivers, deserts, forests, lakes, have become
So common. I need to extend into the future,
To know the still virginal tremblings of the infinite blue.”
Because he says: “I want to raise myself up as high as the condor
To where the cities flee from my eyes
And where I can no longer see the yellow of the reaped fields
Nor the waving of the grasses in the capricious winds.”
Because he invades the domain of the winged ones
And penetrates the skies more every day,
You imagine glorious destinies for man,
And deify his audacious gestures.
You bow, you become delirious, you adore imprudence,
You deck with flowers the altar of the new cult;
Who knows whether it’s progress, regression, or dementia?
I prefer to sing to the fertile and fragrant earth.
I don’t believe that the rough voice of the motors
Will ever be worth the most timid song of the troubadour,
Nor the peaceful refrain of crystal clear fountains,
Nor the sound of the reaper harvesting the grains.
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“Der Eyntsiger un Zayn Eygentum”, Stirner’s book in Yiddish, and radical Nyu York Jewish culture. https://www.unionofegoists.com/2016/09/19/der-eyntsiger-un-zayn-eygentum-stirners-book-in-yiddish-and-radical-nyu-york-jewish-culture/ Mon, 19 Sep 2016 14:41:45 +0000 https://www.unionofegoists.com/?p=2110 This is a very rough post collecting what facts I’m able to uncover regarding a topic I was wholly unfamiliar with. It may serve as notes for something that I or even you write later on.

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Title page of “Der Eyntsiger un Zayn Eygentum.”

By the time Abba (sometimes spelled Aba) Gordin (1887-1964), publisher of The Clarion (1932), arrived in New York, Jacob Maryson had long been publishing his own translation work.

 

Y. A. Merison (aka Jacob Abraham Maryson) (1866-1941) was a Jewish translator/publisher in New York. I discovered him because of his “Der Eyntsiger un Zayn Eygentum”, which you can probably guess is St. Max’s book in Yiddish.  It was published by Kropotkin Literatur Gezelshaft (Kropotkin Literary Society), New York (aka Nyu York) in 1916.

The Kropotkin Literary Society, was founded on the Prince Kropotkin’s 70th birthday (1913?). It was the intent of the society to publish Anarchist and Socialist literature in Yiddish.

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Cover and spine.
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Table of Contents

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According to Immigrants against the State: Yiddish and Italian Anarchism in America by Kenyon Zimmer, Maryson was appointed editor of “was the longest-running anarchist periodical in the Yiddish language”  Fraye Arbeter Shtime, aka פֿרייע אַרבעטער שטימע‎ (Yiddish); The Free Voice of Labor (English), but only lasted a few months because he refused to publish a pro-Russian Communist Party article. Abba Gordin, was a contributor to the journal. Michael E. Coughlin’s journal The Dandelion (1977) Vol. 1, No. 4 was a memorial issue when the Freie Arbeiter Stimme folded.

Paul Avrich notes in his Anarchist Voices that Hilel Solotaroff (1865-1921 was a jewish physician and anarchist on the East Side who both contributed to Fraye Arbeter Shtime and was an executive member of Kropotkin Literary Society.

In the same book Averich mentions bookstore owner/bibliophile Max N. Maisel as being a charter member of the Kropotkin Literary Society, and his distribution of Kropotkin, Thoreau, Wilde that “he published himself.” Maisel sold tickets to Emma Goldman lectures and distributed anarchist periodicals such as Free Society and Mother Earth. The Margaret Sanger Papers has a biographical sketch of Maisel that says “He published a compilation of Margaret Sanger’s New York Call series, What Every Girl Should Know (1916), and also published What Every Mother Should Know (1916). Maisel was also the publisher of the New York Tageblat, a Jewish daily, and translations of many Yiddish-language books.” Archive.org has a few scans of books he published in both English and Yiddish: https://archive.org/search.php?query=publisher%3A%22Max+N.+Maisel%22 There seems to be a scholarly biography in Hebrew here: https://www.jstor.org/stable/23568453?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents


One website had a list of other titles Maryson has translated, including links to digital versions:

 


There is a documentary from 1980 called “The Free Voice of Labor: The Jewish Anarchists” by Steve Fischler and Joel Sucher that touches on some of this time period and milieu.


The following article touches upon the Kropotkin Literary Society, and the larger Jewish literary culture it existed in.

Yiddish Books and Their Readers

By A. A. ROBACK

(as published in The Nation, Vol. 107 No. 2780, October 12, 1918)

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Title page image of Das Kapital in Yiddish from Kropotkin Literatur Gezelshaft (not in original story)

UNTIL recently the literary achievements of the Jewish people were the productions of their geniuses. The activity of the masses, or rather their appreciation and interest, were unconsidered. With the development of a Yiddish literature came the education of the lower classes; and it is their reaction to literature with which we are at present concerned. The genius of a nation manifests itself in the works actually produced by that nation; its taste, however, is discernible in the translations from foreign authors. There are comparatively few translations in Yiddish, and as late as 1890 Jules Verne was the only foreign author whose stories were given a Yiddish version, in the form of abridged adaptations. At one time, the Yiddish book market was flooded with such books of adventure. Zola and Tolstoy also enjoyed great popularity among the Jewish working classes, but the translations that were turned out could scarcely be regarded as anything more than abstracts. Even now only three or four of the latter’s novels have appeared unabridged in Yiddish, while Zola has not fared so well. Stories like his were those that all shopgirls and workingmen with any sort of intellectual pretchsions were expected to read; and in order to give them their fill of realism a portion of Boccaccio’s Decameron was Yiddished by the same “translator” and published by the same firm, whose main business consists in providing the older Jews with prayer books and other religious supplies.

It is characteristic of an abnormal literature like Yiddish that the great masters of all times have been totally neglected. Cervantes’s great work constitutes the sole exception. It is only within the last three years that small fragments of Homer have been translated—to appear only in the scarcely read anthologies of the “young” group of Yidlish poets. The literature of the ancient Greeks and Romans is an unknown quantity to the Yiddish-speaking public. A translation of Molière’s “Précieuses Ridicules” printed privately in England is all that the classical French period has contributed to modern Jewish literature.

The Golden Age of German literature is not much better off in the ghetto. It required the strenuous efforts of a typesetter not only to set but to translate and publish at his own risk “Werther’s Leiden.” When this book ran into the second edition, he was encouraged to translate Lessing’s “Emilia Galotti,” but this venture did not turn out successfully. The four volumes of Goethe that were published afterwards by the concern above referred to contain nothing but adaptations. The view of this publishing house seems to be that it is in many ways more economical for the Jewish reader to get the substance of a great book out of an abridgment or abstract.

Schiller, not to mention the lesser poets of his day, had until lately been ignored by Yiddish literature as if he had never existed. Recently, however, “Die Räuber” has been translated into Yiddish prose. Heine has been saved from total oblivion in the ghetto because of his Jewish racial affiliations and the scintillating brilliancy that runs throughout his works, both poetry and prose. Yet even Heine has received little recognition from his ghetto brethren. Many, no doubt, will be astonished to learn that, apart from a volume of abstracts, Shakespeare has been represented in Yiddish by a single work—an admirable translation of “The Merchant of Venice” by the young anarchist poet Bovshover, who died about three years ago in a hospital for the insane. Into Hebrew several of Shakespeare’s plays had been translated by a Jewish convert to Christianity whose initials appear on the title page of the books. The same author has also to his credit a Hebrew rendering of Milton’s “Paradise Lost.” In Yiddish . only the first few stanzas of this work are to be found in an old periodical. It is most important to note that the Hebrew reader and the Yiddish reader represent two totally different strata of Jewish society. One may safely venture to say that the “Vicar of Wakefield” will never be translated into Yiddish unless through some very peculiar circumstance; yet

Hebrew literature had a version of this quaint novel over twenty years ago. Of the other British authors, Defoe, Swift, with “Gulliver’s Travels,” George Eliot, with “Daniel Deronda,” Dickens, with “David Copperfield,” Scott, with “Ivanhoe,” and Kipling, with the “Jungle Book,” are the fortunate ones to be introduced to Yiddish readers. With the exception of the adaptations from Swift, these translations have been published in Russia, where a greater idealism is manifested in literary circles than is the case in this country. If we add to the previous list a sprinkling of Byron, scattered here and there throughout defunct periodicals, one of Conan Doyle’s detective stories, Olive Schreiner’s “Dreams,” and Oscar Wilde’s “De Profundis” and “The Soul of Man Under Socialism,” the list of British authors patronized by the Yiddish reader, or, perhaps better, by the translator, is exhausted. It is the modernistic trend that seems to have impressed the Yiddish-speaking intelligentsia—not the dreamy, highly symbolistic modernism of Hofmannsthal and Bahr, or even of Verlaine and Baudelaire, if the period of the latter is not too remote to be considered modernistic. Social problems of a psychological nature are what the Jewish intellectuel is seeking, and generally these problems nowadays are bound up with an erotic element. The intelligent ghetto Jew will not appreciate the fiction that commonly appears in our American magazines. His aesthetic sense differs widely from that of the average American reader, who is interested in thrilling plot, snappy dialogue, and cleverly turned

phrases, rather than in clear-cut pictures of the various characters, their psychology, and also the problems thrown into relief by the story. The more or less intelligent Jewish workingman will sacrifice the elaborateness of the plot for the psychological situation, and will, on the whole, react more critically to the details that go to establish its vraisemblance. That is why Russian realism makes such a strong appeal to the Jew. There are other reasons for the close affinity between the two literatures. The sojourn of six million Jews in Russia is no slight factor in the result, but this circumstance by no means tells the whole story. It does not explain, for instance, why Pushkin, Lermontov, Lomonossov, Gogol, and other first-rate Russian writers of the old school do not exist for the Yiddish-speaking reader, while Artzibashev’s “Sanyin” appears in two different Yiddish translations and is followed by a series of like “gems” by the same author. It may be said that Russian literature has exercised a tremendous influence upon the Jewish mind by dint of its realism. Most of the modern Russian writers are represented in Yiddish literature. Here we find Tolstoy, Turgenev, Chekhov, Dostoyevsky, Tchernishevsky, Yushkevitz, Korolenko, Andreyev, Tchirikov, Gorky, Kuprin, Veressayev, and Artzibashev. Linked with these is the Pole Przybyszewsky, four of whose works have been published in Yiddish, including an unexpurgated edition of his “Homo Sapiens.” Of the whole modernistic group of Slavic writers, Przybyszewsky is probably the most uncanny and the greatest sex-monger. Przybyszewsky’s plays are frequently staged by Jewish amateurs. Of the other Polish writers, Sienkiewicz and Elize Orzeszkowa have received some attention in Jewish literary circles, the latter because of her philosemitic sentiments. Ibsen’s hold on the ghetto élite is to be accounted for only by the social problems in which the Jew is so engrossed. Most of Ibsen’s problems fit in with the various “isms” rampant in the ghetto. Strindberg’s name, though not so widely known as that of Ibsen, is likely to become even more popular among the Jewish working people. Björnson, though universally more famous, is much less of a favorite than Strindberg, and is known to the Jewish reader only through two or three plays. Of contemporary Teutonic authors, Hauptmann, Sudermann, and Schnitzler appeal very much to the ghetto taste; but it must be emphasized that only certain phases of these writers have made their way into Yiddish literature. The symbolistic phase of Schnitzler or the picturesque side of Sudermann’s talent will scarcely ever be disclosed to the Yiddish reader. If a close search is made for the bond that unites the various foreign authors who have received prominence in Yiddish literature, it will be discovered that the links constituting the chain are criticism of society,discussion of social problems, psychological analysis, and lastly, the erotic note dominant in these works. The Yiddish newspapers in this country have not been slow to detect the general tendency of their readers; and for years they have traded on the undeveloped and one-sided intelligence of the ghetto intellectuels. The keen competition evinced by the largest radical Yiddish newspapers, some time ago, furnishes us with interesting psychological material in this regard. No sooner did one newspaper announce as a forthcoming serial one of the more voluptuous novels of Catulle Mendès, in its Yiddish title “Beautiful Arabella,” than its contemporary and close competitor made it known that an unexpurgated translation of Maupassant’s “Une Vie,” expanded as “The Life of a Woman,” would shortly appear in its columns. Again, when one of the newspapers, turning to Teutonic \

authors, resolved to entertain its readers with a translation of Elisabeth Schein’s “White Slave,” the other published serially a translation of Madame Boehme’s “Diary of a Ruined Girl.” We have already intimated that the Jewish intellectuel is impregnated with modernism. This seems to be a trait of the race in general, but particularly is this proclivity noticeable in the literature read by the Jewish proletariat. Psychological analysis in fiction is what the Jewish mind craves. Thus it is that Knut Hamsun, who is known to but few English readers, is widely read in Yiddish. The exaggerated introspection of his “Hunger,” so tedious to the average educated Anglo-Saxon reader, seems to delight the Jewish intellectual—Jewish and not merely Yiddish, because this work was translated into Hebrew some years before it appeared in Yiddish. Hamsun is the only foreign author whose writings are more accessible in Yiddish than in English, while Przybyszewsky and Artzibashev are close seconds in this respect. Maeterlinck’s name looms large in the ghetto, but his reputation there rests entirely on the “Blue Bird,” “Pelléas et Mélisande,” and one or two playlets. The attitude of the Jews towards American literature is most interesting. There is a general belief among them that American fiction is shallow, and very few Yiddish speaking Jews would condescend to read an American writer. It may be said without exaggeration that American literature is practically ignored by the children of the ghetto. Even such radicals as Walt Whitman and Jack London, though frequently referred to in articles, have not found favor in the eyes of Jewish translators or publishers. With the exception of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” Poe’s “The Raven” and several of his stories, Longfellow’s “Hiawatha” (in a splendid translation by the poet Yehoash), Bellamy’s “Looking Backward,” and a snatch of Mark Twain, Americans are not represented in Yiddish literature. There seems to

be a wide gulf between the literary taste of the American and that of the Jew. To determine what constitutes this gulf is a task for the ethnic psychologist. In passing to the literature of science and philosophy we note the same partiality and one-sidedness. Books are not translated because of their intrinsic merit, but rather on account of the radical ideas they are calculated to dissemimate among the masses. All the great autobiographies have been sacrificed for Kropotkin’s “Memoirs of a Revolutionist,” which came out in two different translations. Biology is represented, not by Darwin’s works, not by Lamarck, Buffon, or de Vries, but by Kropotkin’s “Mutual Aid.” Adam Smith and Ricardo are ignored for Lassalle, Proudhon, Karl Marx, and Kropotkin. Lassalle’s “Capital and Labor” (translated and edited by the present writer at the request of the Kropotkin Literature Society) is the only scientific work which is accessible in Yiddish and not in English. . When it is considered that out of about a dozen foreign scientific works extant in Yiddish four are translations of Kropotkin, the lack of perspective manifested by the literary leaders of the ghetto will be appreciated. In the face of the facts presented here, it is difficult to countenance the statement found in Nelson’s Encyclopedia (in the article on Yiddish) that “translations of scientific works are especially numerous.” The truth of the matter is that Yiddish is lamentably deficient in such translations. If the ghetto Jew reveals a modernistic bent in his taste for belles-lettres, his scientific sources, it must be said, are strangely antiquated. The reason is that the intellectual lights of the Jewish proletariat are stationary in their views, and are satisfied with what they read years ago. For them

biology has not advanced since Darwin, psychology has made no progress since Wundt’s début, Marx’s “Kapital” is the most recent achievement in economics, and Max Müller’s conclusions are the last word on the development of religion and cognate subjects. The physical sciences are represented in Yiddish, not by the works of Newton, Helmholtz, Lavoisier, and Flammarion, but by Bernstein’s series of popular books, which were of great service to the common people in Germany some forty years ago, but are entirely out of date at present. This translation, however, remains the only contribution to popular science in Yiddish. History centres around the French Revolution, and political Science is confined to Kautsky’s Erfurt Programme, Eltzbacher’s exposition of Anarchism, Kropotkin’s works, and a pamphlet (“Evolution and Revolution”) by the famous geographer and anarchist, E. Reclus. Bebel’s “Woman and Socialism” is about all that we find of sociology in Yiddish. Philosophical literature in Yiddish is in a still more deplorable state. We can exhaust the list of such books by mentioning Mill’s “Liberty,” Nietzsche’s “Thus Spake Zarathustra,” Stirner’s “The Ego and His Own,” and Spencer’s “Education” and part of his “First Principles.” Plato and Aristotle, Descartes, Spinoza, Leibnitz, Hegel, and Schopenhauer are, at best, mere names to intelligent Yiddish readers. The last two seem to be more popular names than the rest— the former because Marx is supposed to have been one of his disciples, and the latter on account of his pessimism, which chimes in so well with the medley of immature views entertained by the average Jewish radical. Let it not be understood that Yiddish is low in the scale of literatures. It possesses unmistakable vitality, but for the present only in its original productions. The late J. L. Peretz and Sholem Aleichem (S. Rabinowitz)—the pillars of Yiddish literature—were indubitably writers of the first rank; and if they have not received in non-Jewish circles the recognition they merited, the reason lies in the untranslatability of their art into foreign languages. This is not a limitation attaching to the genius of these two men, but results rather from the peculiar individuality and constant Separatism of the Jewish people. The translations of the ghetto do not compare in any way with its original productions. The causes are not far to Seek. The more or less assimilated Jews rarely read Yiddish. The devotees of Yiddish are generally of a radical turn of mind with a hankering after problem literature. Not abstract questions, but problems of the day, interest them; these interests have become a tradition, if not a cult, with them. To the ghettointellectuel, Marx is a more profound thinker than Kant and Spinoza combined; Kropotkin, the greatest savant of contemporary times, if not of all ageS. During the last few months, there have appeared translations of Engels and Marx. At the same time, the publication in Yiddish of Hamlet and Julius Caesar, of several volumes of Heine’s poems, of Grant Allen’s “The Woman Who Did It,” and Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Grey,” as well as a portion of Rolland’s “Jean-Christophe,” and three of Brandes’s works (on the French Revolutionary Period, Nietzsche, and Ibsen) would indicate that restricted radicalism is gradually giving way to a more catholic literary point of view among the intellectuels of the East Side. Incidentally it may be noted that the war has affected Yiddish literature comparatively less than the American book market. In fact, Yiddish literary productions have been increasing in number in spite of obvious drawbacks which the publishers face at present.

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