Primary Lessons in Swatow Grammar/Grammar

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PRIMARY LESSONS

IN

SWATOW GRAMMAR.

[COLLOQUIAL]


Grammar.

The Chinese word for Grammar is Bûn Huap,Literary Method, meaning, thereby,the usages which regulate the construction of sentences. This, and the few other grammatical terms the Chinese possess,such as,sit-jī,substantive characters, ua̍h-jī, living characters, &c, have reference, properly, to written style, but, in the absence of other expressions, are pressed into colloquial service.

Parts of Speech.

There is no such minute classification as exists in Western languages. Consequently, a specific nomenclature for parts of speech is not to be found. The inflection by terminal endings of nouns verbs, and adjectives is unknown. One and the same simple form of the word is used unchanged in all the various moods, tenses, and degrees of comparison. These variations of meaning which in Western languages are expressed by declension and conjugation, are obtained in Chinese by the aid of auxiliaries. Auxiliaries and particles form a most numerous family,characterized by flexibility and versatility. They turn up on all occasions, and are equally at home with nouns, pronouns, verbs, and adjectives. The mastery of their manifold adaptations must constitute a large part of the study of Chinese grammar.

Words are divided into two general classes which are called si̍t-jī, True or Substantive words, and Hṳ-jī, Empty words.

In explaining the difference between these two classes, the Chinese say, ũ mue̍h-kiãⁿ hó-thóiⁿ—jī sĩ-si̍t, if there as anything discernible—then the word is sit, i. e. true, veritable, actual, tangible, substantial; bô-mue̍h-kiãⁿ hó-thóiⁿ—jī sĩ-hṳ, if there is nothing discernible—the word is hṳ, i. e. empty, insubstantial. The sit-jī, then, comprise all the nouns, — names of persons, places, and things, — and some teachers would also include some verbs in this class. The hṳ-jī, comprise all auxiliaries, adverbs, prepositions, conjunctions interjections, and all words which represent nothing tangible in themselves, but serve to develop the meaning of other words, and show their relations to other. Thus, the Chinese words for mountain, earth, heaven, river, road, wood, animal, bird, door, village, are all si̍t; whereas, the Chinese words for dark, consider, useless, wherefore, hate, love, desire, in, out, upon, are all hṳ.

In each of the following pairs of words, the first one is si̍t, and the second one is hṳ. Suaⁿ-téng, the mountain upon; chhù-ẽ, the house under; hái-tói, the sea at the bottom; thiⁿ chiẽⁿ, heaven above; tóu thiàⁿ, the stomach aches; sim siẽⁿ, the mind thinks; kha chéng, the foot is swollen; nâng gu̍t, the man is asleep; ji̍t-chhut, the sun rises; hõu-lo̍h, rain falls.

There is still another classification into Ua̍h-jī, living characters, Sí-jī, dead characters.

This distinction seems to correspond very nearly to our own distinction between verbs and nouns. In explaining it, the Chinese say, õi-siẽⁿ, õi-chò-sṳ̄—jī—kiè-chò-ua̍h, if it can think, or can-do anything, — then the word is ua̍h, living. Bõi-siẽⁿ, bõi-chò-sṳ̄—jī—sĩ-sí, if it cannot think, or bring some thing to pass—then the word is si, dead. At first sight this appears sufficiently explicit. But when we come to apply the principle, we find that the distinction does not always hold. It changes its scope and seems to denote such a difference as exists between activity and passivity, —between energy in exercise or about to be exercised, and energy expended.

For example, the word nâng, a man, is a si̍t—jī—a noun, but then it is also ua̍h, living, because it inherent force and activity. Chiáⁿ-chõ, please be seated, is ua̍h, because it involves an action, but chõ--liáu, seated, is sí, because the action has ceased. M̄-ôiⁿ-chõ, I have not leisure to sit, is ua̍h because it is attended with action, but, uá chiàⁿ-chõ, I will still remain seated is sí because action is declined. Húe sie-chhù, the fire burns the house, is ua̍h because there is energy exhibited. But chhù sie-tiāu--liáu, the house is burned, is sí because the energy has ceased. Hṳ̂ lia̍h-jie̍h-chōi? how many fish did you catch? is ua̍h, but lia̍h-bô-hṳ̂, caught no fish, is sí.

It is common to hear scholars speak of a sí word being used as an ua̍h word, and of an ua̍h word being used as a sí word. It is obvious that something more may be intended by this than simply that nouns are used as verbs, and verbs as nouns. It evidently includes personification and the figurative use of language.

In the following examples, as the Chinese say, sí-jī chò-ua̍h-jī ēng, dead words are used as live ones. In each example following, the first Chinese word, or the first two or three words before the dash — are sí, as, sí-nâng—à-kàu-khiã, a dead man argues till he starts erect. The words, sí-nâng, are sí, for, says the scholar triumphantly, “How can a dead man argue at all? It is not real; he is only supposed to do so.” That is, it is figurative. Bô-kha-nâng–lia̍h--tie̍h, caught by a no—footed man. The three words, bô-kha-nâng, are sí for how can a no-footed man catch any body? Chheⁿ-mêⁿ-nˆn̄g thóiⁿ-kìⁿ, a blind man seeing! How can a blind man see? He is only supposed to; it is figurative. Suaⁿ—õi-kiè, kok—õi-ìn, the mountain can call, the valley can answer. Suaⁿ and kok are sí words, spoken of as if animate. Hái—õi-chhiè, the sea can laugh. Gue̍h—õi-khui-keng, the moon can draw a bow. San-hû chhiū—õi-khui-hue, coral can blossom. The words hái, gue̍h, and San-hû-chhiū, are all sí. What they do is done figuratively.

In the following examples, ua̍h-jī chò-sí-jī ēng, live words are used as dead ones. Koi—bõi-thî, a fowl cannot crow. Káu—bõi-pūi, a dog cannot bark. Bé—bôi-pháu, horse cannot run. “Why can they not?” asks the Chinaman, “They all have the power to do it.” Their inability, then, is not real but figurative. To living things are ascribed the characteristics of dead things. Sim ngẽ-kùe-chie̍h, the heart is harder than stone. This is included in the same class because the hardness is not real but figurative. Aìⁿ-sueh-huap, bô-nâng-lâi, wanted to explain the method, but nobody came. Aìⁿ-sueh-huap, is ua̍h, but because the intended action fails of accomplishment it becomes sí. In like manner any given word may be ua̍h, while the action is going on, but when the action is completed, and motion ceases, the same word then becomes sí, as believing — belief. In each of the ensuing sentences, the first two words are ua̍h, but the sentences have a sí-jī out come, because nothing is effected. Oĩ-tàⁿ—bõi-kiâⁿ, can say—but can’t do. Oĩ-siẽⁿ—bõi-chò, can think—but can't act. Ũ-kha—bõi-kiâⁿ, has feet—but can’t walk. Ũ-chhiú—bõi-khie̍h-mue̍h, has hands — but can't take anything.

Proximate Equivalents.

From all this, it will appear that the Chinese have no such grammatical code as exists elsewhere. But they have a well established usus loquendi which serves them instead of a code. To conform to this in speech is to be grammatical, to vary from it is to be ungrammatical. In correcting an erroneous form of speech, a Chinese teacher does not say to his pupil, “You are violating a rule.” but, “You are departing from the usage. Nobody says it that way.” This is supposed to be quite enough.

In what is now to be presented the grammatical nomenclature of the West is introduced, but not with the expectation of being able always to find exact counterparts therefor, It is used for convenience in classification, and the design of the present endeavor will be met if proximate equivalents can be found for some of our Western grammatical forms of speech.


thóu-ūe,
local dialect.
pe̍h-ūe,
plain words; colloquial, as opposed to, kuaⁿ-ūe.
lṳ́ hó-tàⁿ pe̍h-ūe,
you please speak the colloquial.
lṳ́ hó-tàⁿ-pe̍h-ūe pun uá-thiaⁿ,
please speak in colloquial, and let me hear.
uá thiaⁿ m̄-mêng, lṳ́ chài-tàⁿ,
I don’t hear clearly, say it again.
sin-seⁿ lṳ́ tàⁿ-ūe màiⁿ-khah-méⁿ,
teacher, don’t speak too fast.
lṳ́ sueh-mêng khṳt-uá thiaⁿ,
explain it for me to hear.
lṳ́ lêng-gūa chài-tàⁿ,
say it over again.