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A Theory of Phonological Features
A Theory of
Phonological Features

SAN DUANMU

1
3
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX DP,
United Kingdom
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford.
It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship,
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© San Duanmu 
First Edition published in 
Impression: 
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a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the
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above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the
address above
You must not circulate this work in any other form
and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer
Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press
 Madison Avenue, New York, NY , United States of America
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
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ISBN ––––
Printed in Great Britain by
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Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and
for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials
contained in any third party website referenced in this work.
Contents
Preface ix
Acknowledgments xi
Abbreviations and terms used xiii

 Introduction 
. Sounds and time 
.. Segmentation of speech 
.. Granularity of segmentation 
.. Defining sounds by time 
.. Phonemes and allophones 
. Features and contrast 
.. Contrast 
.. Sound classes 
.. Phonetic properties 
.. Summary 
. Cross-language comparison 
. Adequacy of available data 
. Summary 
 Method 
. Data 
. Guiding principles 
.. Principle of Contrast 
.. Maxima First 
.. Known Feature First 
.. Summary 
. Interpreting transcription errors 
. Searching for maxima 
. Interpreting exceptions 
. Summary 
 Vowel contrasts 
. Vowels in UPSID 
.. Basic vowels 
.. Extra-short (overshort) vowels 
vi Contents

.. Pharyngeal vowels 


.. Other vowels 
. Vowels in P-base 
.. Basic vowels 
.. Pharyngeal vowels 
.. Creaky vs. glottalized vowels 
.. Voiceless vowels 
.. Extra-short and extra-long vowels 
.. Other vowels 
. Summary 
 Vowel height 
. Motivations for a two-height system 
. Basic vowels in UPSID 
. Basic vowels in P-base 
. Evidence from sound classes 
.. [tense] in English 
.. [+low] in P-base 
. Step raising 
. Summary 
 Consonant contrasts 
. Consonants in UPSID 
.. Voiced glottal stop and pharyngeal stop 
.. Dental, dental/alveolar, and alveolar places 
.. Sibilant vs. non-sibilant fricatives 
.. Taps and flaps 
.. Lateral fricatives vs. lateral approximants 
.. “r-sound” and “approximant [r]” 
.. Summary 
. Consonants in P-base 
.. Basic consonants 
.. Consonants with a “voiceless” diacritic 
.. Other consonants 
. Summary 
 A feature system 
. Previous proposals 
.. Jakobson et al. () 
.. Chomsky and Halle () 
.. Clements () 
Contents vii

.. Clements and Hume () 


.. Browman and Goldstein () 
.. Halle (; ) 
.. Ladefoged () 
.. Summary 
. A new feature system 
.. Articulators and gestures 
.. Interpreting manner features 
.. Interpreting place features 
.. Other features 
. Representing vowels 
. Representing basic consonants 
. Representing tones 
. Feature specification (underspecification) 
. Phonetic variation of features 
. Summary 
 Complex sounds 
. Compatibility of feature values: The No Contour Principle 
. Complex sounds whose features are compatible 
.. Affricates 
.. CG (consonant–glide) units 
.. CL (consonant–liquid) units 
. Complex sounds whose features are incompatible 
.. Contour tones 
.. Pre- and post-nasalized consonants 
. Non-pulmonic sounds 
.. Clicks 
.. Ejectives 
.. Implosives 
.. Two-sound analysis 
. Summary 
 Concluding remarks 
. How many distinct sounds are there? 
. How many sounds does a language need? 
. Where do features come from? 

References 
Author Index 
Language Index 
Subject Index 
Preface
The goal of this study is to determine a feature system that is minimally sufficient to
distinguish all consonants and vowels in the world’s languages. Evidence is drawn
from two databases of transcribed sound inventories, UPSID ( inventories) and
P-base ( inventories).
Feature systems have been offered before that use data from many languages. For
example, Trubetzkoy () cited some  languages, Jakobson et al. () cited
nearly  languages, and Maddieson () used a database of  languages.
However, a fundamental methodological question remains to be addressed: Let
X be a sound from one language and Y a sound from another language. How do
we decide whether X and Y should be treated as the same sound or different sounds?
It is well known that, when X and Y are transcribed with the same phonetic symbol,
there is no guarantee that they are phonetically the same. Similarly, when X and Y are
transcribed with different phonetic symbols, there is no guarantee that they must be
different sounds. Moreover, even if there is phonetic evidence that X and Y are
notably different, there is no guarantee that they cannot be treated as the same sound
in a language. Without a proper answer to the methodological question, generaliza-
tions from cross-language comparisons are open to challenges.
In this study, I offer an answer, using the notion of contrast: X and Y are treated as
different sounds if and only if they contrast in some language (i.e. distinguish words
in that language). For example, [l] and [r] contrast in English (as in lice vs. rice);
therefore, we must represent them with different transcriptions and different fea-
tures. In addition, when [l] and [r] occur in a language where they do not distinguish
words, such as Japanese, we can distinguish them, too (as “allophones”). On the other
hand, if X and Y never contrast in any language, there is no need to distinguish them,
not even as allophones, even if they have an observable phonetic difference. For
example, Ladefoged () observes a difference between [θ] used by English
speakers in California, whose tongue tip is visible, and [θ] used by those in southern
England, whose tongue tip is not visible; but if the two kinds of [θ] never contrast in
any language, there is no need to distinguish them, either in transcription or in
features. Similarly, Disner () observes that the [i] in German has a slightly higher
tongue position than that in Norwegian. But again, if the two kinds of [i] never
contrast in any language, there is no need to distinguish them either. Non-contrastive
differences are not left aside but will be addressed as well, and explanations will be
suggested without assuming feature differences.
I make no prior assumption as to what the system should look like, such as
whether features should be binary or innate. Instead, the proposed method is explicit
x Preface

and theory-neutral. The work can be laborious to carry out, though: It requires
repeated searches through sound inventories of all available languages in order to
find out whether a difference in phonetics or in transcription is ever contrastive in
any language. In addition, to guard against errors in original sources or in the
databases, we shall re-examine all languages that seem to exhibit an unusual contrast.
The resulting feature system is surprisingly simple: Fewer features are needed than
previously proposed, and for each feature, a two-way contrast is sufficient. For
example, it is found that, if we exclude other factors, such as vowel length and tongue
root movement, a two-way contrast in the backness of the tongue is sufficient; the
same is true for the height of the tongue. This result is quite unexpected, because even
the most parsimonious feature theories, such as Jakobson et al. () and Chomsky
and Halle (), assume three degrees of tongue height, and many assume three
degrees of tongue backness as well. Nevertheless, our conclusion is reliable, in that
the notion of contrast is uncontroversial, the proposed procedure is explicit, and the
result is repeatable.
Representing contrast is not the only purpose for which features are proposed. In
particular, features have been proposed to describe how sounds are made (articula-
tory features) and how sounds form classes in the phonology of a language (class-
based features) as well. This study focuses on contrast-based features for two reasons.
First, contrast lies at the core of phonology. Second, contrast-based data are the least
controversial and are large in quantity and high in quality. I shall attempt to interpret
contrast-based features as articulatory gestures, too, but I shall say little of class-based
features. It has been proposed that contrast-based features, articulatory features, and
class-based features should correspond to each other (Halle ), but that remains
an ideal. Before the ideal is confirmed, differences among the three feature systems,
once highlighted, provide fertile grounds for further research.
Acknowledgments
The theory of phonological features is one of the first topics a student of linguistics
comes across, yet one soon realizes that there are many unresolved questions.
Naturally, many phonologists have searched for answers, and some have devoted
most of their careers to it. If some progress is made in this book, it is very much the
result of collective effort. I am glad to be part of it, and have many people to thank.
Starting from the beginning, I would like to thank those whose classes introduced
me to the field of phonetics and phonology: David Crystal, Francois Dell, William
Hardcastle, Jim Harris, Michael Kenstowicz, Dennis Klatt, Donca Steriade, Ken
Stevens, Peter Trudgill, Moira Yip, Victor Zue, and above all Morris Halle. I was
fortunate to have you as my teachers.
I would also like to thank my colleagues at the University of Michigan, in
Linguistics and beyond. It is a privilege to share a great research and teaching
environment with you.
Next, I would like to thank other phonologists, broadly defined. Some I have
interacted with directly and some I got to know through their works. You have been
wonderful companions in a journey of exploration for a better understanding of the
sound patterns of language.
Just as much, I would like to thank my students over the years, whose open-
minded questions often helped me clarify my explanations, revise my views, and see
new questions that had been hidden by familiar jargons.
Finally, I would like to thank Michael Kenstowicz, Keren Rice, and three anonym-
ous reviewers for their valuable comments on the book proposal, Bert Vaux and Jeff
Mielke for their very careful comments on the draft copies of the book, other
colleagues for their comments on various parts of the book (Steve Abney, George
Allen, Hans Basbøll, Pam Beddor, Iris Berent, Arthur Brakel, Charles Cairns, Nick
Clements, Andries Coetzee, Jennifer Cole, Stuart Davis, Ik-sang Eom, Shengli Feng,
Mark Hale, Bruce Hayes, Jeff Heath, Yuchau Hsiao, Fang Hu, José Hualde, Di Jiang,
Ping Jiang, Pat Keating, Hyoyoung Kim, Andrew Larson, Qiuwu Ma, Bruce
Mannheim, James Myer, Wuyun Pan, Eric Raimy, Rebecca Sestili, Jason Shaw, Yaoyun
Shi, Ken Stevens, Will Styler, Sally Thomason, Jindra Toman, Hongjun Wang, Hongming
Zhang, Jie Zhang, Jun Zhang, Jianing Zhu, and Xiaonong Zhu—and this surely is an
incomplete list, I am afraid), and the staff at (or working for) Oxford University Press, in
particular Sarah Barrett, John Davey, Lisa Eaton, Julia Steer, Vicki Sunter, and Andrew
Woodard, for their professionalism at every stage of the publication process. You have
helped make this book far better than what was originally conceived.
xii Acknowledgments

For copyright permissions I am grateful to the following:


Cambridge University Press for Fig. . (Karl Zimmer and Orhan Orgun, “Turkish,”
Journal of the International Phonetic Association (–) (), p. ), also repro-
duced as Fig. ..
Sandra Disner for Fig. . (Sandra Ferrari Disner, “Vowel quality: the relation
between universal and language-specific factors,” doctoral dissertation, UCLA,
; distributed as UCLA Working Papers in Phonetics , p. , Fig. .).
AIP Publishing LLC for Fig. . (Gordon E. Peterson and Harold L. Barney. .
“Control methods used in a study of the vowels,” Journal of the Acoustical Society of
America () (), p. , Fig. ).
Abbreviations and terms used
Commonly used abbreviations

* ill-formed
[] a feature, often one with binary values, such as [round]; a phonetic transcription
ATR advanced tongue root
C consonant
CC unit of two consonants; geminate consonant
CG unit made of a consonant and a glide, such as [kw] or [kw]
CL unit made of a consonant and a liquid ([l] or [r]), such as [pl]
CV tier tier representing consonant and vowel positions
G glide
H high tone, which is the same as the feature value [+H]
HL falling tone, which is a combination of H and L
IPA International Phonetic Association; International Phonetic Alphabet
L low tone, which is the same as the feature value [–H]
LH rising tone, which is a combination of L and H
N nasal consonant
NC unit made of N and C; pre-nasalized consonant
P-base database of phoneme inventories and sound classes (Mielke –)
UPSID UCLA Phonology Inventory Database (Maddieson and Precoda )
V vowel
VX rime made of a vowel and another sound, such as VV [ai] or VC [an]
X timing slot; unit of time
X tier tier representing time units
xiv Abbreviations and terms used

Active Articulators

Articulator Common name Other terms

Lips Lips (or lower lip) Labial; Lower lip


Tip Tip of the tongue Coronal; Tongue blade
Body Body of the tongue Dorsal
Velum Velum Soft palate
Root Root of the tongue Radical
Glottis Glottis Vocal cords; Vocal folds; Laryngeal
Larynx Larynx
1

Introduction

A fundamental assumption in phonology is that, at some level of abstraction, speech


is made of a sequence of sounds, or consonants and vowels. Under this assumption,
numerous studies of a language begin by listing its consonants and vowels. The goal
of this study is to determine a minimally sufficient feature system that can distinguish
all consonants and vowels in the world’s languages. Before I introduce the method-
ology in Chapter , it is necessary to address some preliminary questions: What are
speech sounds? What are features? Can we compare sounds and features across
languages? Do we have adequate data for the task?

. Sounds and time


The discovery that words can be decomposed into sounds has made it possible to
create writing systems in many languages, which in turn has had a profound impact
on human civilization. Indeed, according to Goldsmith (: ), phonemic analysis
(the technique for figuring out the consonants and vowels of a language) remains the
greatest achievement in phonology. Nevertheless, a number of questions remain.

.. Segmentation of speech


When we segment speech into consonants and vowels, we encounter two problems.
First, there are prosodic properties, such as tones, that seem to be independent of,
or attached to entities larger than, consonants and vowels. Second, phonetically,
the boundaries between sounds are not always clear, because properties of one
sound often spill into another (and vice versa)—a process called “coarticulation”
in phonetics and “feature spreading” in phonology. For example, in pan, nasalization
(a property of [n]) starts during [æ], not after it. Similarly, the tone of a syllable can
extend to another, or shift from one to another. In response, Goldsmith ()
proposes that speech is made of multiple tiers of features, each tier being autono-
mous. Features on the same tier have their own temporal sequence, but there is no
common temporal sequence across all layers. The conclusion is that speech cannot be
segmented into consonants and vowels. A similar view is expressed by Firth ()

A Theory of Phonological Features. First edition. San Duanmu.


© San Duanmu . Published  by Oxford University Press.
 Introduction

and more recently by Fowler (), who suggests that we should focus on individual
articulatory gestures instead of sounds or segments.
However, some well-known facts will be hard to account for if speech is not made
of a sequence of sounds (after we set aside prosodic properties such as tone and
syllable structure). For example, given two sounds A and B, languages can make a
contrast between AB and BA, such as tax vs. task, cats vs. cast, tea vs. eat, and map vs.
amp. In addition, it is possible to spell or transcribe speech with a sequence of letters
or phonetic symbols, regardless of the language—a fact that would be quite unusual if
speech is not made of a sequence of sounds. Moreover, language games can manipu-
late (i.e. move, insert, delete, or change) sound-sized units, and such games are found
not only in languages that are written alphabetically, such as Pig Latin in English, but
also in those that are not, such as Chinese (e.g. Chao ; Yip ; Bao b).
Finally, there is no evidence that it is easier to account for feature spreading (or
coarticulation) if we reject consonants and vowels. Indeed, even within the multi-
tiered approach to phonology, a special tier has been proposed that corresponds
to traditional notions of consonants and vowels, such as the CV tier of McCarthy
() and Clements and Keyser (), or the X tier of Pulleyblank () and
Levin (). Therefore, I shall continue to assume that speech is, at some level of
abstraction, made of a sequence of sounds.

.. Granularity of segmentation


A second problem in decomposing words into sounds is the granularity of segmen-
tation: there is no agreement on how large (or small) a sound should be. For example,
is the affricate [ts] one sound or two? Is the diphthong [ai] one sound or two? Is the
triphthong [uai] one sound or three? Is [ʘx] (in the African language !Xóõ) one
sound or two? Should the decisions be made on a language-specific basis? For
example, can [ai] be one sound in some languages and two in others, even if it is
phonetically the same?
Chao () argues that phonemic analysis is inherently ambiguous and a unique
solution is rarely possibly. The ambiguity has made some linguists doubt the reality
of consonants and vowels. For example, after years of working on consonants and
vowels, the prominent linguist Ladefoged (: ) remarks that they are probably
“scientific imaginations” after all.
Nevertheless, many ambiguities are resolvable if additional evidence is taken into
consideration. For example, consider the syllable onset in Standard Chinese. If we
exclude glides, only the following items are found [p ph t th k kh ts tsh tʂ tʂh tç tçh m n f s
ʂ ç x ]. If the affricates [ts tsh tʂ tʂh tç tçh] are single consonants, we see a generaliza-
tion: The Chinese onset allows just one consonant. If affricates are clusters of two
sounds each, the generalization is lost. In addition, we face a new question whose
answer is not so obvious: Why are some consonant clusters allowed while others not?
. Sounds and time 

However, additional evidence is often ignored. As an example, consider two


analyses of Chinese. You et al. () propose that Chinese should not be segmented
into consonants and vowels. Instead, we can treat each rime as a single sound, such
as [au], [ai], [an], and [aŋ]. The advantage, they argue, is that we do not need to
account for contextual variations of vowels (called “allophonic variation” in phon-
emic analysis), such as the variation of [a] in [au], [ai], [an], and [aŋ]. However, they
fail to account for the fact that diphthongs and VC rimes are found in full syllables
only, whereas rimes of unstressed syllables are half as long and have a simple vowel
only (Lin and Yan ). If the difference between full and unstressed syllables
is taken into consideration, it is clear that the former have two rime positions and
the latter just one, so that [au], [ai], [an], and [aŋ] should all be split into two
sounds each.
Next we consider vowels in Standard Chinese. According to Lee and Zee (),
there are six monophthongs (such as [a] in [ma] ‘mother’ and [an] ‘peace’), eleven
diphthongs (such as [ai] in [mai] ‘sell’ and [ia] in [ia] ‘duck’ and [ian] ‘smoke’), and
four triphthongs (such as [uai] in [xuai] ‘bad’). However, the analysis becomes
problematic when we consider evidence from syllable structure. First, [mai] ‘sell’
and [xuai] ‘bad’ form a riming pair, as do [an] ‘peace’ and [ian] ‘smoke’. This means
that [uai] should be divided into [u] and [ai], because [ai] is a unit for riming.
Similarly, [ian] should be divided into [i] and [an], where [an] is a unit for riming.
Second, diphthongs like [ai] and [au] cannot be followed by a consonant, such as
*[ain] or *[aun], whereas simple vowels can, such as [in] and [an]. This means that a
diphthong is equal to two sounds. Thus, evidence from syllable structure suggests
that both diphthongs and triphthongs should be decomposed into simple vowels.
The decomposition yields better phonemic economy, too. For example, without
decomposing diphthongs and triphthongs, there are twenty-one vowels in Standard
Chinese (Lee and Zee ), whereas with the decomposition there are at most six,
including a retroflex vowel (Duanmu : ).
Even if additional evidence is used, its interpretation is not always obvious. Let
us consider two examples. We have just seen that diphthongs can be treated as
two sounds when they are long. However, Cairns (p.c. ) suggests that some
diphthongs are short. The example is New Yorkers’ pronunciation of the vowel in
bath and cab as [æ@]. Cairns considers the vowel to be a short diphthong, because
[æ] is often treated as a “lax” vowel, and lax vowels are usually short in English.
The question is whether this vowel is indeed short. Phonetically, [æ] is clearly a
long vowel (Peterson and Lehiste : ). Phonologically, the New York [æ]
undergoes “tensing” in such an environment (Benua ), and tense vowels
in English are phonologically long, in part because they attract stress (Halle
and Vergnaud ; Hayes ). Thus, there is good evidence that the New
York [æ@] is not a short diphthong but a long one, which can be decomposed into
two sounds.
 Introduction

Another reported example of short diphthongs is found in Gussmann’s ()


analysis of Icelandic. The argument is that the maximal rime size in Icelandic is VX
(i.e. VV or VC); therefore, in a VVC rime, VV must be a short diphthong. It is worth
noting that in VVC rimes, the C is typically a nasal. Such a case is not new. For
example, Borowsky () observes that in non-final English syllables the rime size is
mostly limited to VX, although some exceptions are found, such as pumpkin, whose
first rime is VCC, and fountain, whose first rime is VVC. In such rimes, the vowel is
followed by a nasal, which can form a nasalized vowel (Duanmu ). Thus, the first
rime in pumpkin is [Ũp] and that in fountain is [aũ], an analysis independently
proposed before (Malécot ; Bailey ; Fujimura ; Cohn ).
The examples show that different decisions on the granularity of segmentation can
yield different consonants and vowels. When we examine databases of sound inven-
tories, therefore, we should not take reported inventories at face value. Instead, we
should be aware of the range of ambiguities and alternative interpretations. In
addition, we should be cautious in drawing certain kinds of generalization, such as
the number of consonants and vowels in a language, the average sizes of phoneme
inventories across languages, or the total number of distinct sounds in all languages.
Moreover, the size of a sound affects its feature analysis, too. For example, if [ʘx] is a
single sound in !Xóõ, its feature analysis would be quite complicated. On the other
hand, in a “cluster analysis” (Traill : –), [ʘx] is made of two sounds,
a bilabial click [ʘ] and a velar fricative [x], and their feature analyses would be
much simpler.
The granularity problem is related to what Chao (: ) calls “under-analysis”
and “over-analysis.” In under-analysis, one treats what are “recognizably compound
sounds” as a single sound, such as treating the affricate [ts] or [tsh] as a single
consonant. In over-analysis, one treats what is “one homogeneous sound” as two
sounds, such as treating the American English vowel [ɚ] as [@] plus [r]. But the terms
“under-analysis” and “over-analysis” imply that (i) there is a “proper” analysis and
(ii) we know what it is. In other words, Chao seems to assume that we already know
what a sound is. The assumption is not obvious, as we shall see next.

.. Defining sounds by time


Given the assumption that speech can be segmented into a sequence of sounds, the
simplest definition of sounds is as in (), with examples in (), where X is a time unit
(McCarthy ; Pulleyblank ; Clements and Keyser ; Levin ). I use
“features” as a cover term for phonetic properties (such as articulatory gestures), to
be elaborated on later.
() Sounds defined by time
A sound is a set of compatible feature values in one time unit.
. Sounds and time 

() Sample representations of sounds


Single sounds Two-sound units
Simple Complex Diphthong Long vowel
X X XX XX Timing tier
| /\ | | \/
k kp ai i Gestures
[k] [k͡ p] [ai] [i:] Transcription

The notion of time is both phonetic and phonological. Phonetically, one sound is
shorter than two sounds of comparable nature and in comparable context. For
example, a short vowel (which takes one time unit) ought to be shorter than a
long vowel or a diphthong (which take two time units each). Phonologically, a
long vowel or a diphthong occupies two rime positions, similar to a short vowel
plus a consonant. This can be demonstrated in some well-studied languages, such
as English and Chinese. In addition, a long sound often shows different phono-
logical behavior than a short one. For example, a long vowel tends to attract stress
but a short one does not (Prince ; Hayes ). Similarly, a vowel may be
lengthened when it carries a contour tone but not when it carries a level tone
(Ward ).
Phonetic duration can be influenced by various factors though, in particular the
phonotactics of a language. For example, an English vowel is shorter before a
voiceless consonant than before a voiced one (House and Fairbanks ; Peterson
and Lehiste ); thus, [I] is shorter in fit than in fig. In addition, high vowels are
shorter than non-high vowels. More striking cases have also been reported, in which
the duration of a two-consonant cluster is similar to that of a single consonant. For
example, Browman and Goldstein (: ) report that in English, the temporal
gesture of labial closure is the same for [p b m mp mb] (as in capper, cabber, cammer,
camper, and camber), “regardless of whether the consonantal portion is described as
a single consonant (/b/, /p/ or /m/) or as a consonant cluster (/mp/ or /mb/).”
Similarly, Maddieson () reports that, while prenasalized stops are found to be
longer than a single consonant in Luganda (Herbert ; ), they have similar
timing patterns to those of single consonants in Fijian. Such cases can sometimes be
explained by the phonology of the given language though. For example, it can be
argued that a prenasalized stop in Luganda is a true consonant cluster (Herbert ;
). In contrast, the Fijian consonant inventory has [p t k], [m n ŋ], and [mb nd ŋg],
but no [b d g] (Dixon : ); therefore, it is possible that the Fijian [mb nd ŋg] are
in fact single consonants [b d g] (Herbert ; ). In English, vowels are
nasalized before a nasal; therefore, the nasal closure itself becomes redundant if
the following consonant can indicate its place of articulation. In other words, the
closure pattern observed by Browman and Goldstein () can be described by a
rule [VNC] → [ṼC], where [NC] is a homorganic cluster.
 Introduction

FIG. . Segmentation of ‘(the) projects’ [prAʤ@ks] by speaker sa of the Buckeye Corpus
(Pitt et al. ), displayed in Praat (Boersma ). The upper tier shows the original
segmentation of the Buckeye Corpus. The lower tier shows an alternative segmentation.
Differences between the two segmentation decisions are discussed in the text.

Another source of variation in the duration of speech sounds may come from
inconsistent decisions on segmentation. Consider the durational difference between
[A] and [@] in Fig. ., displayed in Praat (Boersma ), using the data of speaker
sa in the Buckeye Corpus (Pitt et al. ).
In the original segmentation (upper tier), [k] does not include the aspiration
portion, but [p] does. In addition, the location of [r] is questionable, since it is fully
voiced, has greater intensity than the stressed vowel [A], and does not match the
auditory impression of the segment. Moreover, the stressed vowel [A] is shorter than
the unstressed vowel [@]. In the alternative segmentation (lower tier), [p] and [k]
have the same end point (right after release but not including aspiration). In addition,
[r] is voiceless, in agreement with a well-known rule that “/w, r, j, l/ are at least
partially voiceless when they occur after initial /p, t, k/” (Ladefoged and Johnson
: ). The phonetics of [A] and [@] now seem more reasonable, too, where [A]
has greater intensity and is longer than [@].
The idea of defining sounds by time has been proposed before. For example,
Trubetzkoy (: ) proposes that the duration of a sound should “not exceed
the duration of the realization of other phonemes that occur in a given language.”
However, Trubetzkoy does not always stick with the time requirement. For example,
he considers diphthongs, triphthongs, and long vowels in English to be single vowels
(Trubetzkoy : ). In contrast, in the present analysis, a diphthong takes two
time units and counts as two sounds, so does a long vowel.
. Sounds and time 

A sound can be simple, such as [k], or complex, such as [k͡ p] ([k] and [p]
pronounced simultaneously). Now if [k] and [p] can form a complex sound [k͡ p],
can [a] and [i] form a short diphthong? The answer depends on the meaning of
“compatible feature values” in (), which can also distinguish possible and impossible
complex sounds. There are two cases where feature values are compatible. First, the
features involve independent articulators, such as [+stop] for Dorsal and [+stop] for
Labial in [k͡ p]. Second, the features are different, such as [+high] and [+back] for
Dorsal. Two feature values are incompatible if they involve the same feature for the
same articulator, such as [+nasal] and [–nasal] for Velum in [nd] and [–high] and
[+high] for Dorsal in [ai]. In Chapter  we shall see that feature compatibility and
complex sounds can be defined by the No Contour Principle, first proposed by
Duanmu ().

.. Phonemes and allophones


A phoneme is a contrastive sound unit in a language (conventionally delimited by
slashes), and allophones are different realizations of it (conventionally delimited by
square brackets). For example, in English the phoneme /t/ can be realized as [t] in
stop or [th] in top, and the phoneme /æ/ can be realized as [æ] in pad or [æ̃] in pan. In
this sense, allophones, such as [t th], are concrete sounds, while a phoneme, such as
/t/, is an abstract representation of them.
We are interested in possible contrasts in all languages. For example, we would like
to know not just the fact that [t th] belong to the same phoneme in English, but
whether [t] and [th] can ever distinguish words in other languages. Therefore, our
focus is on concrete sounds and possible contrasts among them.
Now if we use data from phonemic inventories, two questions arise. First, if a
phoneme is an abstract entity, how do we know its phonetic content? The answer is
that, as a matter of practice, the symbol for a phoneme is usually the same as that of
one of its allophones. For example, the English phoneme /t/ and its allophone [t]
share the same symbol; so do the phoneme /æ/ and its allophone [æ]. Indeed, some
linguists propose that a phoneme should always be represented by one of its
allophones (Ruhlen ). Whether all linguists follow this practice or not, it is
safe to say that most symbols in a phoneme inventory database correspond to one of
its allophones and represent concrete sounds.
The second question is, when we see a phonemic symbol, how do we know what its
allophones are? For example, when we see the phoneme [t] in English, how do we
know it has the allophone [th]? The answer is that, if two allophones A and B never
contrast in any language, they need not be distinguished. If A and B do contrast in
some language, we will come across them when we examine that inventory. By
examining all inventories available, we are able to identify all possible contrasts,
even without allophonic information from any language.
 Introduction

. Features and contrast


Features (also called “distinctive features”) are used to serve three main purposes.
First, they are used to represent a categorical difference between two sounds that can
contrast in a language (i.e. distinguish words in that language). Second, they are used
to account for sound classes (often called “natural classes”). Third, they are used to
describe the phonetic properties of sounds.

.. Contrast
There is no question that every contrast must be represented. Therefore, I define
features in (), define contrast in () and give examples in () and ().
() Features defined by contrast
A feature represents a minimal contrast between two sounds.

() Contrast
A contrast is the phonetic difference between one sound pair that can distin-
guish words in a language.

() Examples of contrast in English


Word pair Contrast? Different sound pairs
sip-zip Yes one pair [s]-[z]
sly-cry No two pairs [s]-[k] and [l]-[r]

() Degree of contrast


Minimal [s]-[z] sip-zip
Minimal [s]-[f] see-fee
Non-minimal [s]-[v] set-vet

In (), the difference between sip-zip is provided entirely by that between [s]-[z],
which confirms that [s] and [z] can offer a contrast. On the other hand, the difference
between sly-cry is provided by [s]-[k] and [l]-[r]; therefore, the word pair does not
show whether [s]-[k] or [l]-[r] can provide a contrast alone.
The present notion of features shares some similarity with what Trubetzkoy ()
calls “oppositions.” However, in the present definition, a feature refers to a difference
between two sounds, whereas for Trubetzkoy an opposition can also refer to a difference
between other phonological units, such as between the lengths of two syllables.
Since a contrast is found between a pair of concrete sounds, the difference between
the pair can be defined phonetically, as can features. Such definitions allow us to
determine the degree of differences or similarities between contrastive sound pairs.
For example, the difference between [s]-[z] is the same as that between [f ]-[v],
. Features and contrast 

commonly known as [voice]. Also, it can be shown that [voice] is minimal, in the
sense that it cannot be further divided into two (or more) components each of which
can itself be contrastive. It can be shown, too, that the difference between [s] and [f] is
also minimal, commonly known as the “place” of articulation. On the other hand, it
can be shown that the difference between [s] and [v] is not minimal, in the sense that
it can be divided into two components, [voice] and “place,” each of which can be
contrastive by itself.
A contrast-based definition of features also means that non-contrastive phonetic
differences are not represented by features. For example, the vowels of a child differ
from those of an adult, but such differences do not distinguish words and so are not
represented by features. Similarly, vowels of an average male differ from those of an
average female, and such differences are not represented by features either.
The notion of contrast can be used not only to determine phonemes, as in (), but
also to define allophones, as in ().
() Phonemes
If two sounds contrast (can distinguish words) in a language, they belong to
different phonemes in that language.

() Allophones
Two sounds X and Y (which share some phonetic similarity) are allophones of
the same phoneme in a language if and only if
a. X and Y do not contrast in this language, and
b. X and Y can distinguish words in another language.
Without (b), a phoneme could have an infinite number of allophones. For
example, each individual’s [i] is different from that of another speaker, and every
utterance of [i] by the same speaker is somewhat different. With (b), the number of
allophones of a phoneme is radically reduced. For example, a child’s [i] and an adult’s
[i] are not treated as allophones.
But how do we know whether a difference between two sounds is potentially
distinctive in another language? For example, can a normal vowel and a whispered
one ever contrast in any language? Similarly, can [m] and [ɱ] ever contrast in any
language? Such questions require an examination of large databases of sound inven-
tories, which is the focus of the present study.

.. Sound classes


Features can also be defined by sound classes, which is shown in (); a sound class is
defined in ().
() Features defined by sound classes
A feature represents a minimal similarity shared by members of a sound class.
 Introduction

() Sound class


A sound class is a set of sounds that behave alike in a phonological pattern.

Sound classes are often called “natural classes.” However, as Mielke () points
out, many sound classes are in fact unnatural, in that there is no discernible common
feature among the members. Therefore, he offers the term “phonologically active
classes” instead. For brevity, I shall use the term “sound classes,” without implying
whether or not they are natural, or phonologically active.
The similarity among members of a sound class is sometimes easy to see. For
example, [b d g] share the similarity of “voiced,” “oral,” and “stop,” [b d g p t k] share
the similarity of “oral” and “stop,” and [b d g p t k m n ŋ] share the similarity of
“stop” only. The similarity in the last set is minimal and involves one feature. The
similarities in the first two sets are not minimal and involve more than one feature.
Sound classes have been used not only to establish features but also to establish
hierarchical relations among features, where all features are organized into a tree
structure (called “feature geometry”). For example, Clements () groups [nasal],
[continuant], and [strident] under a higher node called “manner,” and Sagey ()
and Halle () group “labial,” “coronal,” and “dorsal” under a higher node called
“place.”
However, it is not always clear what constitutes a sound class, or what feature(s)
the members of a sound class share. Let us consider some examples from P-base
(Mielke –), a comprehensive collection of sound classes. For English, [m n ŋ]
are listed as a sound class, because they can nasalize a preceding vowel. There are two
questions, though. First, is there ever a contrast between a nasalized vowel and a non-
nasalized one before a nasal consonant? If not, should vowel nasalization, in this
context, be treated in terms of features? Second, suppose [m n ŋ] do form a sound
class. How many features do they share? It may appear that they share four, [+nasal,
+stop, +voice, +sonorant]. However, it is possible they share just one feature
[+nasal], from which we can predict the other three, the latter being redundant
(see Chapter  on feature specificstion).
Next we consider the plural suffix in English, which can be realized as [s] (as in
cats), [Iz] (as in buses), and [z] (as in fans). P-base considers there to be three sound
classes, one preceding [s], one preceding [Iz], and one preceding [z]. However, it can
be argued that [z] is the default form and only two classes are needed: one triggering
[Iz] and one triggering [s]. In addition, as seen above, even if we have determined a
sound class, it is not easy to tell what defines it. For example, what is the feature that
defines the class that precedes [s]? Is it [–voice] (McMahon ) or is it [+aspirated]
(Iverson and Salmons ; Beckman et al. )?
As a final example, consider the set of English consonants that can occur before [l]
in word-initial position, which are [p b k g f v s ʃ]. P-base lists this set as a sound class,
. Features and contrast 

but questions can be raised. For example, why are [t] and [d] missing from it? The
reason seems to be dissimilation (both [l] and [t d] are coronals), but why are [s] and
[ʃ] allowed (since they also involve a coronal component)? If dissimilation does not
hold for fricatives, why are [z] and [ʒ] missing? An alternative answer is that word-
initial [s] is a special case, as noted in the literature, as is word-initial [ʃ] (Duanmu
). If we exclude [s] and [ʃ], the remaining set is [p b k g f v], which is a lot easier
to define.
The examples show that analyses of sound classes can be complicated, even for
well-studied languages. To see the extent of uncertainty, consider the forty sound
classes listed by P-base for English. Of those, twenty-seven are based on distributions
at word edges, which are not always a reliable test for sound classes. Of the remaining
thirteen, seven are controversial in various ways. Thus, Mielke () concludes,
correctly in my view, that many apparent sound classes are unnatural, as are features
construed from them. A similar point has been made by Steriade () and Hayes
(), who argue that some phonological patterns are not based on feature-defined
sound classes but can be better accounted for either by function-oriented phonetics
or by constraint interaction. This is not to say that sound classes are not worth
studying. Rather, of the many sound classes collected in Mielke (), many have
not been carefully examined before, if at all. Clearly, they call for a separate study,
which is beyond the scope of the present one.

.. Phonetic properties


Features are also used to represent the phonetic properties of sounds. For example, [f]
can be represented as a labiodental voiceless fricative, where “labiodental” refers to an
articulatory gesture (moving the lower lip against the upper teeth), “voiceless” refers to
an articulatory gesture (lack of vocal-fold vibration) or its acoustic effect (lack of
periodic sound wave), and “fricative” refers to an articulatory gesture (a type of
closure) or its acoustic effect (presence of aperiodic sound wave). This approach has
a long tradition, codified by the IPA (International Phonetic Alphabet) chart, where
sounds are arranged in columns and rows according to their articulatory features.
In the phonetic definition, a feature is a phonetic dimension, which indicates
an articulatory gesture or its acoustic or perceptual effect (Jakobson et al. ;
Abercrombie ; Chomsky and Halle ; Ladefoged ). Each dimension
in turn is divided into two (or more) values or degrees. Some examples are shown in ().
() Features (phonetic dimensions) and their values
Feature Value
Voice Voiced, voiceless
Aspiration Aspirated, unaspirated
Backness Front, (central), back
etc.
 Introduction

i y
m n

e œ o

FIG. . Phonetic properties of Turkish vowels (Zimmer and Orgun : ). Reproduced
with permission from Cambridge University Press.

The features “voice” and “aspiration” have two values each. The feature “backness”
(of the tongue) has been divided into two values (front–back) or three (front–
central–back).
However, it is not always clear which phonetic properties are relevant,
or how many degrees a feature should be divided into. Consider Turkish
vowels, whose phonetic and phonological properties are shown in Fig. .
and in ().
() Phonological features of Turkish vowels
Front Back
–round +round –round +round
+high i y ɯ u
–high e œ a o

Phonetically, the Turkish [a] is low and central (or front), but phonologically, it is
a back vowel, and in terms of height it belongs to the same class as [e œ o] (Lewis
). Without phonological data, one might interpret Fig. . literally and arrive at
the analysis in ().
() A phonetic interpretation of Turkish vowel features based on Fig. .
Front Back
–round +round –round +round
high i y ɯ u
mid e œ o
low a
. Features and contrast 

However, there is clear evidence that () is a better analysis. Consider the
alternation of the plural suffix, shown in ().
() Alternation of the plural suffix in Turkish
Preceding vowel Plural suffix
Front: [i y e œ] [ler]
Back: [ɯ u a o] [lar]

When the preceding vowel is one of [i y e œ], the plural suffix is [ler], and when the
preceding vowel is one of [ɯ u a o], the plural suffix is [lar]. The pattern is accounted
for if [i y e œ] are front vowels and [ɯ u a o] are back vowels, so that the suffix
assumes the same backness as the preceding vowel. In addition, the pattern suggests
that [e a] only differ in backness and not in height. If [a] is a front vowel, as shown
in (), there is no reason why it changes its height to [e], based on the backness,
not height, of the preceding vowel. The data also show that the backness
difference between [i y] (or between [ɯ u] or [e œ]) has no effect. Clearly, phonetic
properties require reinterpretation when we consider patterns from contrast and
sound classes.

.. Summary
Ideally, features obtained from different criteria (contrast, sound classes, and phon-
etic properties) coincide with one another (Halle ; ); but the ideal remains
to be confirmed.
In this study I shall focus on contrast-based features, with some reference to their
phonetic properties but only occasional references to sound classes. There are several
reasons. First, a contrast-based feature system is the least controversial, because all
linguists agree that every contrast must be distinguished. Second, our data mostly
consist of phonetic symbols, which have encoded a substantial amount of phonetic
information. In particular, the transcription of a sound indicates its key phonetic
properties in relation to those of other sounds. For example, [i] is always the highest
vowel in a language and [e] is always lower than [i]. Third, a contrast-based feature
system must be recognized independently, no matter what patterns emerge from
sound classes. Specifically, if two sounds contrast in a language, they must be
distinguished, with or without information from sound classes. Finally, a contrast-
based feature system can help us interpret phonetic properties. For example, if no
language makes a three-way contrast in backness, we must reinterpret what appears
to be a central vowel as either front or back.
 Introduction

. Cross-language comparison


Any study that compares sounds across languages is faced with a fundamental
methodological question: Let X be a sound from one language and Y a sound from
another language. How do we decide whether X and Y should be treated as the same
sound or different sounds? Consider Fig. ., which shows four vowels in German
(dotted lines, Jørgensen ) and four in Norwegian (solid lines, Gamnes ),
plotted by Disner (: ).
While both languages use the symbols [i y e ø], the German vowels are systemat-
ically higher, and the German [y] is both higher and less front. Such small
but systematic differences between languages are quite common (Ladefoged ;
Disner ). What is the reason for saying that the Norwegian vowels are the same
as those in German, beyond the fact that they are represented by the same phonetic
symbols, probably for convenience? Should such differences be distinguished at all?
Consider another example, illustrated with the backness of the tongue, shown in
Figure ., where A–D are four vowels in two hypothetical languages, L and L.
If we considered L alone, we may call A front and B back. Similarly, if we
consider L alone, we may call C front and D back. Moreover, if all languages have
only two degrees of backness, we can identify A with C, both being front, and

200
i y

300 e
i y
Ø
F1 (Hz)

400
e
Ø

500

600

3000 2500 2000 1500 1000


F2 (Hz)

FIG. . Four vowels in Norwegian (solid line,  speakers) and German (dotted line,
 speakers), from Disner (: ).
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
A Chinese Ritz.

Page 40

From Yünnanfu we took the ordinary route via Malong, Kütsingfu,


and the Yünnan Pass into Kweichow Province. It has been admirably
and fully described in Sir A. Hosie’s latest book On the Trail of the
Opium Poppy, so it is unnecessary for me to do it, and I shall merely
describe the things which struck us as of special interest.
The journey from Yünnanfu to Anshun took us seventeen days—a
distance altogether of about three hundred miles.[6] From Anshunfu
we struck north, through much wilder and less-frequented country, in
order to visit the haunts of aboriginal tribes, and made a wide detour,
returning to the main road near Kwei Yang, the capital. We greatly
wished to visit other tribes in the eastern part of the province, but
that was absolutely vetoed by the governor, and we were obliged to
follow the high road through Ping-yüe and Huang Ping Chow to
Chen Yüen. Here we took to the waterway, from which we did not
once swerve till we reached Shanghai. The first part of the journey,
up the Yüen Kiang, is a distance of four hundred and forty-six miles,
and one may go down it in five days, if it is in flood, with a fair
chance of getting drowned! We took ten days, but a good deal of
time was spent at places on the way. Coming up stream the journey
is long and tedious: it may extend to months instead of days. The
natural superstition of the Chinese is displayed on such a journey by
the lavish use of crackers[7] and incense to ward off evil spirits.
These superstitions will die hard: nothing less vital than genuine
Christianity can displace them.
We entered Hunan on May 14, having spent forty-two days in
Kweichow Province. The frontier is indicated by two elaborate
archways, as we saw on entering the province from Yünnan.
Although Hunan is within fifteen days’ reach of Shanghai, it has so
far no facilities for travel better than by water. It is true there is a
short railway line on its western border, but we were not encouraged
to try it, and in summer there is always a good steamship line from
the capital Changsha to Hankow—a distance of two hundred and
twenty miles. The railway is part of the projected line from Hankow to
Canton, and will be of great trade value when it is completed, as
there is no good route to connect this part of the country with the
south. We intended going from Changsha into Kwangsi Province on
account of the beautiful scenery, but unfortunately that was
impossible owing to the fighting going on between the troops of the
north and the south exactly in the region where our road lay. It might
be supposed that we could have taken an alternative route through
so vast a country, but such is not the case. If you leave the great
high road (and what a misnomer that is!) there is no way except by
devious paths through endless mountain ranges, where no
accommodation and little food would be obtainable. In a province of
83,398 square miles there appear to be only two main roads running
from north to south, and three from east to west; yet it has a
population of over twenty-one millions. The two main roads running
from north to south are near the eastern and western borders, and
all the central part of the province has none. We crossed the
province entirely by water, first in a house-boat as far as Changteh,
thence in a miserable little native steamer across the Tong Ting Lake
to Changsha; from Changsha up the Siang-kiang,[8] across the Tong
Ting on to the Yangtze, which bounds the province on the north.
We had no choice, therefore, of leaving Hunan except by going to
Hankow, and we found good accommodation on a British steamer,
the Sinkiang. There are six good lines between Changsha and
Hankow—two British, a Japanese, and several Chinese steamship
companies, whose ships run in the summer; owing to the
extraordinary subsidence of the lake in winter (see Chapter VI) it has
to be discontinued then for several months. The journey from
Changsha to Hankow takes about thirty-two hours: at Hankow we
transhipped for Shanghai on a most comfortable steamer (with nice
beds), the Nganking, belonging to Messrs. Butterfield & Swire. It is
quite easy for travellers knowing no Chinese to penetrate by this
route into the very centre of China. I am so often asked about the
possibilities of doing this that I can only recommend this as a wholly
charming and easy way of getting about and much to be preferred to
railway travelling.
Hankow itself is a big bustling cosmopolitan town, with a rapidly
increasing volume of commerce. It is a link between old and new,
and has no less than thirty-six associations, called “hangs,” for
different kinds of goods. It has its foreign concessions like the
seaports, and the important trading companies have their own
floating wharves, where the big ocean liners moor, six hundred miles
away from the coast. There are said to be 25,000 junks engaged
here in river traffic, and they connect Hankow with all the central and
western provinces, often travelling as much as a hundred miles a
day.
Hankow is a great centre of educational and missionary activity,
and many European nationalities are engaged in it. The great
viceroy, Chang Chih Tung, ardently promoted education here when
he was in office. He said in his book, China’s Only Hope (p. 61), “In
order to render China powerful, and at the same time preserve our
own institutions, it is absolutely necessary that we should utilize
Western knowledge. But unless Chinese learning is made the basis
of education and a Chinese direction is given to thought, the strong
will become anarchists, and the weak slaves.” It is most deplorable
that this is ignored by so many Chinese of the present day.[9] He
urged that old Buddhist and Taoist temples, falling into decay, be
transformed into schools, and he estimated that seven out of ten,
with their property, might well be devoted to this purpose. This is
quite in accordance with what is now being done, especially in
Northern China. He argued that the temples are national property,
and should be used for the common good.
Hankow is wonderfully situated as the internal trade centre of
China, being the meeting-point of its main railways as well as
waterways (when the former shall have been completed), linking up
north, south, east and west. There are three cities in the angles
formed by the junction of the Yangtze and the Han rivers—Hanyang,
Hankow and Wu-chang; the last was far the most important in the
past, and is the capital of Hupeh, but now Hankow rivals Shanghai in
commercial importance, and is rapidly growing. The three cities have
a joint native population of 1,150,000, of which Hankow has 800,000,
and as its native quarter was completely destroyed by fire during the
civil war in 1911, the fine old monuments of the past were destroyed
with it. Its whole interest is modern.
Between Hankow and Shanghai are several important cities which
must be most interesting to visit, several of them being treaty ports
with foreign concessions, such as Chin-kiang and Wu-hu; the
steamers stop at least fourteen times on the way. It is delightful to
spend the days sitting in comfortable chairs on deck, watching all the
varied life on the river, hearing the “honk-honk” of the wild geese
soaring overhead, or watching the wedges of ducks crossing the
river on strong wing to the big marshes, or lakes, into which it pours
its overflow.
From time to time the steamer draws to the riverside and loads or
unloads its cargo. One of the most interesting stopping-places is
Nanking; indeed, it is said to be one of the most interesting in China,
and is only about two hundred miles from Shanghai. It has an hotel
kept by an Englishman. We greatly enjoyed the river scenery of the
Yangtze: there are so many picturesque monuments in this lower
part on the numerous islands and along its banks; although it has not
the wild charm of the gorges, it is well worth making the trip. Now
there is a steam service all the way up to Chunking, so that travellers
can easily do one of the most beautiful journeys in the world at
reasonable cost, in reasonable comfort and in reasonable time,
going about a thousand miles up the finest of the great rivers of the
world.[10]
On reaching Shanghai I had to part with my travelling companion
and start the journey home alone, but as events proved my steamer
was delayed, and I had several weeks in which to visit the coastal
provinces of Chekiang, Fukien and Kwantung, and to study the
student movement, as described in the concluding chapters of this
book.
Chapter II
The Model Governor—Yen Hsi-Shan

“Who is the true and who is the false statesman?


“The true statesman is he who brings order out of disorder;
who first organizes and then administers the government of
his own country; and having made a nation, seeks to
reconcile the national interest with those of Europe and of
mankind. He is not a mere theorist, nor yet a dealer in
expedients; the whole and the parts grow together in his
mind; while the head is conceiving, the hand is executing.
Although obliged to descend to the world, he is not of the
world. His thoughts are fixed not on power, or riches, or
extension of territory, but on an ideal state, in which all the
citizens have an equal chance of health and life, and the
highest education is within the reach of all, and the moral and
intellectual qualities of every individual are freely developed,
and ‘the idea of good’ is the animating principle of the whole.
Not the attainment of freedom alone, or of order alone, but
how to unite freedom with order is the problem which he has
to solve.
“The statesman who places before himself these lofty aims
has undertaken a task which will call forth all his powers.”—
Benjamin Jowett.

Chapter II[11]
The Model Governor—Yen Hsi-Shan
The province of
Shansi boasts
having the best
governor in the
Chinese Empire,
and he has
accomplished in the
last ten years a
remarkable change
in the entire
province—a
province which is
considerably larger
than Great Britain.
The city of Taiyuanfu
is perhaps the most
striking evidence of
this change. The
whole place is
unrecognizable
since the days when
I first knew it in
1893. The streets
are wide and well
kept; at night they are lighted by electricity, and an efficient police
force keeps order and regulates the traffic, whereas in old days the
crowd used to fight their quarrels out in their own sweet way. The
horrible pariah dogs which infested the streets without let or
hindrance have entirely disappeared; for a dog, licence has now to
be obtained, and any unlicensed dogs are promptly destroyed. The
Governor Yen Hsi-Shan is the promoter of education in all its
manifold aspects; though not a Christian, he realizes that there must
be a radical change in morals, as well as in education, if China is to
become a strong nation, capable of taking her place among the
Great Powers.
To this end he has formed an organization called the “Wash the
Heart Society,” which strongly reminds one of the Mission of John
the Baptist, although he does not recognize the fact that repentance
is only the first step on the upward path. A large hall has been built in
a nice open part of the city, close to the city wall, but, alas! not in
Chinese style. The Governor is unfortunately under the influence of a
Teuton, who is the worst possible adviser in matters of architecture,
as well as other things. The hall is a deplorable mixture of every
conceivable style of Western art; it holds 3,000 people and services
are held there every Sunday morning, each lasting one hour, and
each for the benefit of a separate class of people—merchants,
military, students. So far there seems to be no provision for women,
but perhaps that will come later. The population is bidden to come
and reflect on its evil ways and to seek amendment of life. A special
feature of the service is a time of silence for self-examination. This
Society was started in the province of Shansi, but I found its halls in
other parts of the Empire as well, and it is a hopeful sign of the
times. The approach to the hall is by a good macadamized road, and
near by is a tea-house beside the tiny lake—the Haizabien—and a
bandstand where the élite of the city gather on summer evenings to
listen to sweet music and sip countless cups of tea.
Yen Hsi Shan, Statesman.

Page 49

Big houses are being built by wealthy Chinese in this


neighbourhood, and there are large Government schools for girls as
well as boys. Facing the entrance to a girls’ school, which is housed
in a disused temple, we saw a list pasted up on a wall, giving the
names of successful girl students in a recent Government
examination. What an amazing contrast to the old days, when no
Government schools for girls were in existence; they only came into
being since the downfall of the old regime in 1907, but the Chinese
Ministry of Education, which based its present system on that of
Japan, is recognizing the importance of women’s education and is
encouraging it by this official recognition of success in examinations.
It is not sufficient only to give the women schools, but it is
imperative to supply them also with scope for wider culture and
congenial activities when they leave school. To this end a kind of
club, or institute, is to be started at once on ground opposite the
Governor’s hall, and it is in response to the ladies’ own request: they
have long been saying, “The men have their Y.M.C.A., why cannot
we have such a place?” and although the mission ladies have done
their best to meet the need, obviously no private house can be
adequate, not to mention the fact that Chinese ladies have too much
self-respect to be willing to be always guests of ladies with limited
incomes, to whom they can make but scant return. It is hoped that
the new hall will do much to forward the woman’s movement in
Taiyuanfu; there will be social gatherings, lectures on hygiene (for
illustration of which there is to be a complete installation of sanitary
fittings), a child-welfare department, invalid cooking, lessons on
nursing, and many other classes connected with women’s welfare.
There is room for a garden and tennis courts in order that recreation
and physical culture may be encouraged and the place made
attractive to girls as well as women. The Governor is promoting this
last matter indirectly, by putting a fine on foot-binding, which is
unfortunately still extremely prevalent. The movement that took place
some years ago in favour of a natural foot seems to have died down,
and everywhere there is foot-binding in full swing. The queue has
practically disappeared from China during the last few years, and
men wear their hair mostly rather short, while some go in for a clean
shave. I find this quite attractive when the skull is well-shaped, and if
the man is in immaculate summer garb, the effect of cleanliness is
wonderful. If the women of China were less conservative, and would
make an equally clean sweep of foot-binding, it would make an
immense difference to their health.
The Governor has encouraged physical culture not only indirectly
but directly as well, for he even went so far as to ride in a bicycle
race once in Shansi, and in 1918 public sports took place at
Taiyuanfu, which Sir John Jordan honoured by his presence, having
taken the tiresome nineteen hours’ journey from Peking for the
purpose.[12] A disused temple acted as the grand-stand and an
angle of the city wall was converted into the arena, the tiers of seats
being hewn in the base of the wall. Quite a fine sports ground was
prepared under the superintendence of one of the missionaries,
whose advice in practical matters is continually sought by the
Governor. The only matter for regret on this occasion was the
deplorable weather, for even sunny Shansi has moments when a
dusty fit of temper obscures its lustre.
One of the Governor’s most valuable new institutions is a farm for
cattle-breeding. It is just outside the city and has been successfully
started by an American and his wife. The main object is to improve
the breed of horses, cows, sheep, etc., and for this purpose stock is
being imported from the United States, whose Government has
recently supplied the necessary transport for horses, when this
difficulty of shipment arose with regard to animals already
purchased; a large number of sheep have already been imported
from Australia. Shansi is a suitable province for this experiment and
missionaries have already proved there the excellent results of
cross-breeding cows, obtaining supplies of milk of improved quality,
as well as largely-increased quantity. In a recent book on China,
highly recommended to me, an American writer states that there is
only one milk-giving cow in the Empire, and that tinned milk supplies
the rest, but evidently the traveller had not travelled far!
Another of the Governor’s institutions is a College of Agriculture
and Forestry in connexion with which there are many mulberry trees
being planted for the promotion of sericulture. This has never been
pursued with success in Shansi; hitherto only the commoner kinds of
silk have been produced, but it is considered a patriotic deed to
promote it, and the most exquisite and costly silk is now being made
in a disused temple, by Yen’s order. Perhaps the almost religious
way in which it was regarded in bygone times, when the Empress
herself took a ceremonial part in the rearing of silkworms 3,000
years ago, has caused this revival of schools of sericulture. I visited
one in the South, and after seeing all the processes was invited to
take a handful of worms away as a memento! Governor Yen has
sent 100 students to France to study textiles. Afforestation is
nowhere more needed than in Shansi, and it is to be hoped that the
Government will push this side of the work of the college. We found
such a college had been started in remote Kweichow also, cut off
from most of the new movements in China. Plantations had been
made in various parts, but they will need to be carefully guarded, as
the poverty of the inhabitants lead them to destroy ruthlessly every
twig they can for firewood; where there used to be large forests
nothing now remains of them. The genius of the Chinese race for
agriculture is so remarkable that one may well expect great results
from these colleges: the vast population has been able in the past to
produce food more or less according to its needs, but when there is
a dearth of rain, or other cause producing bad harvests, there is at
once terrible scarcity, and the application of Western knowledge and
agricultural implements ought to be of considerable value.
There are in some parts such as Chekiang as many as four
harvests per annum, and no sooner is one reaped than the land is
prepared for the next. The introduction of new trees, vegetables,
etc., would add greatly to the wealth of the country, and with its
unrivalled climate and soil there is every reason to promote the
multiplication of agricultural colleges.
One of the most noticeable changes in Taiyuanfu is the complete
absence of the beggar of hideous mien, who dogs the steps of
strangers in every other city in China, and who seems to be the most
immovable feature of life in the East. He was an integral part, one
had been taught to believe, of the social fabric, and as hallowed as
the very temple itself; yet Taiyuanfu has the glory of having solved
this difficult problem. All the male beggars have been collected into
the splendid old temple of Heaven and Hell to be taught a trade, so
as to be able to earn a living, and they are not dismissed until they
are capable of doing so. They seemed quite a jolly crew, and were
hard at work in various buildings, though others of these were closed
for the New Year. The most interesting part of the institution was the
town band which has been formed out of the younger part of the
beggar population. They were summoned to play for our
amusement, and they ended by playing for their own. The
performance was most creditable, especially considering that the
band was only seven months old; if there was some defect in tune,
there was an excellent sense of rhythm, which I have found lacking
in many bands of long standing at home; and it was really fascinating
to see the gusto with which they all played. The band has already
taken part in various town functions, and is making itself useful. The
music is, of course, Western, as are the instruments. Chinese
musical instruments do not give enough sound, as a rule, for large
gatherings.
The rules of the workhouse seem good, and the inmates can earn
money (five dollars per month) so as to have something in hand
when they leave. The women’s department is in another part of the
city and we had not time to visit it. It is very noticeable how the
temples are being everywhere used for such useful purposes, for the
housing question is here, as at home, a serious problem. No doubt it
would be good from a practical point of view that these buildings
should be replaced by new ones, built for the purpose, but the loss of
beauty would be incalculable. The temple of Heaven and Hell has
glorious turquoise-blue roofs and handsome tiles and large
medallions of green pottery on the walls. It is the most beautiful of all
the temples, in my opinion, though the Imperial Temple, where the
Dowager Empress stayed on her historic flight to Sianfu, is also very
fine. This is now used as a school for the teaching of the new script,
which is a simplified form of the Chinese character. It was devised in
1918 by the Ministry of Education in order to make literacy easier for
the population. The ordinary Chinese boy takes three or four years
longer than the Western boy to learn to read. When the old system
of education was abolished in 1907 a new one had to be devised,
but it is an extremely difficult thing to carry out such a reform
throughout so vast an empire. Governor Yen Hsi-Shan is an ardent
promoter of the scheme, and he has established the school for the
express purpose of promoting it. Every household in Taiyuanfu is
required to send at least one member to study the script; in order to
make it easier, there are a few characters, with their equivalent in the
old script, put up outside many of the shops, so that people may
learn it as they go about their business. Not only so, but all over the
city may be seen notice boards with the two scripts in parallel
columns, and these boards have generally some one studying them,
not infrequently with notebook in hand. Many of the schools are
teaching it, but it is difficult to add this to an already well-filled time-
table. It may be of interest to know that it is “a phonetic system
containing thirty-nine symbols (divided into three denominations, viz.
twenty-four initials, three medials and twelve finals).”—North China
Daily News.
This is one part of an important movement for the unification of the
language, the importance of which can only be fully realized by those
who have travelled widely in China. Not only every province varies
from every other province, but also every district from every other
district. There are sixty-four dialects in Fukien alone. The unification
of the Empire would be greatly promoted by the unification of the
language, and this has been frankly recognized by the Ministry of
Education, which has issued a notice to that effect:
“We recognize that because of the difference between our
classical and spoken language, education in the schools makes slow
progress, and the keen edge of the spirit of union both between
individuals and in society at large has thereby been blunted.
Moreover, if we do not take prompt steps to make the written and the
spoken language the same quickly, any plans for developing our
civilization will surely fail.
“This Ministry of Education has for several years made positive
advances in promoting such a National Language. All educationists,
moreover, throughout the country are in favour of a change by which
the teaching of the national spoken language shall take the place of
the classical language. Inasmuch, therefore, as all desire to promote
education in the National Language, we deem it wise not to delay
longer in the matter.
“We therefore now order that from the autumn of this current year,
beginning in the primary schools for the first and second years, all
shall be taught the National Spoken Language, rather than the
National Classical Language. Thus the spoken and written
languages will become one. This Ministry requests all officials to take
notice and act accordingly.”
It is not sufficient, as we all know, merely to issue such an order.
Governor Yen has taken various practical ways of enforcing it.
Posters with large script characters have been widely set up,
exhorting the people to study the script, and a daily paper is issued
in it. He has had 2,500,000 copies printed of a simple script primer,
and has published at a nominal price, and in vast numbers, various
educational books, such as What the People Ought to Know,[13]
New Criminal Laws of the Republic, and Handbook for Village
Leaders. The last-named is of special importance in view of the fact
that by his order reading- and lecture-rooms have been established
in all the cities and large villages of the province, where lectures and
talks are given from time to time on various subjects of interest to the
people. A regular educational campaign may be said to have been
inaugurated by Yen. On every post and wall in the remotest villages
may be seen maxims inculcating honesty, diligence, industry,
patriotism and military preparedness.
Temple of Heaven and Hell, Workhouse.

Page 53

An important new book which Governor Yen has recently


published, is called What Every Family Ought to Know, and is a
description of what he conceives to be a good home and the
happiness which results from it. “If we desire to have a good home,
virtue is of first importance,” he says, but alas! he gives no clue as to
how it is to be achieved.
The chief rules for family life are, (i) Friendliness, (ii) Magnanimity,
(iii) Dignity, (iv) Rectitude, (v) Diligence, (vi) Economy, (vii)
Cleanliness, (viii) Quietness. He makes the Head of the House
responsible, as setting the example, and exhorts him to repentance
(if he falls short) before God and his ancestors. The whole book is
eminently practical, and he recommends what would be a startling
change of immemorial custom, that the son should not marry until he
is grown up and able to support a wife in a home of his own—
namely, not under his father’s roof. This is an innovation which is
beginning to be seen elsewhere, as the result of foreign intercourse.
As a writer, Governor Yen is concise and practical: he has
completely broken away from the old Chinese classical style. His last
work is written, like all his books, in simple mandarin instead of in
beautiful classical mandarin, so that every one may be able to
understand it. This is the more noteworthy, because the additional
cost entailed was $5,400 per leaf; he states this fact in the preface of
What the People Ought to Know.
His one object appears to be the uplift of the people in every way,
and he believes in God and in righteousness. As an index of his view
of life it may be interesting to quote a few of the forty Family Maxims
which form the concluding chapter of his above-named book.

“Unjust wealth brings calamity.”


“Vitiated air kills more people than prison.”
“To be cruel to one’s own is to be worse than a beast.”
“Of people who lack a sense of responsibility—the fewer
the better.”
“If your conscience tells you a thing is wrong, it is wrong:
don’t do it.”
“The experience of the uneducated is much to be preferred
to the inexperience of the educated.”
“The wise are self-reliant, the stupid apply to others.”
“There is no greater calamity than to give reins to one’s
desires, and no greater evil than self-deception.”

Governor Yen, it will be seen, from his words as well as from his
deeds, is a clear-sighted, independent thinker, and he believes in
religious liberty. His reforms deal with a wide range of things—
opium-smoking, narcotics, polygamy, infanticide, early marriages,
early burial, gambling, training and morals of the troops, compulsory
free education for boys, the introduction of uniform weights and
measures, alteration in legal affairs. All these and other matters have
within the last five years occupied his thoughts and been practically
dealt with—no small achievement, especially when the insecurity of
his position and lack of trained men to carry out his projects is taken
into consideration.
As will be readily understood, all these enterprises cost money,
and taxation is never looked on kindly by the taxed, so there is some
discontent among the people of Shansi, and the Central
Government, instead of showing satisfaction at the prosperity and
good government of the province, which is in striking contrast to that
of so many others, has taken the opportunity of threatening to
impose a Civil Governor in Shansi—that means a heavy squeeze,
and in consequence, the stoppage of many of the Governor’s
schemes. He is continually threatened by those who would like to
see him out of the way, and is consequently rarely seen, and then
strongly guarded.
The system of having military governors is extremely bad, but in
the case of an exceptional man like Yen it has worked well, and the
Government saved its “face” by uniting the civil and military
governorship in his one person. At the present time the Government
has ordered the military governor of Shensi to retire in favour of
another Tuchun. He refuses to do so, and his various military friends
are all hurrying to the rescue. It is estimated that there are one and a
half million soldiers in China, largely unpaid, so that they are glad of
any excuse to loot and pillage. Feng Yu Hsiang has been sent up to
Shensi by the Government to compel the Tuchun to leave, and has
carried out the work with brilliant success. He has in vain been
demanding money to pay his troops, while turbulent, unscrupulous
generals have been receiving large sums to prevent them from
committing excesses.
The Tuchuns have been encouraging opium-growing in order to
get funds, and now there is hardly a province where it is not done
more or less openly. Governor Yen has set his face against it, but
smuggling goes on all the time, mainly from Japan, and morphia is
also becoming increasingly popular. No wonder Young China is
clamouring for the suppression of the Tuchuns and disarmament:
there can be no peace in China till this is done.
One of the most interesting places in the city is the model gaol,
which was planned and carried out by Mr. Hsü, who studied in Japan
and has progressive views. It covers a considerable space of ground
and is entirely one-storied; it is in the shape of a wheel, with many
spokes radiating from the centre. The entrance is charming, as
unlike as it is possible to imagine to any English prison. Within the
gates is a lovely garden, for Chinese are first-rate gardeners, and the
prisoners raise all the vegetables necessary for the inmates, and a
grand show of flowers to boot. An avenue of trees leads to the
offices, and when we were there in February we saw beautiful little
trees of prunus in full bloom on the office table! All the prisoners
have to work at useful trades, and if it were not for their fetters it
would be difficult to imagine one was in a prison at all. The
workshops were bright and airy; every one looked well cared for and
not unhappy. A feature of the workrooms was the boards on which
all tools were hung up when not in use, each tool being numbered
and outlined on the board, so that it should be hung on its own peg.
Every kind of trade was in full swing, and the work is so well
executed that there is never any lack of orders. Certainly one would
be only too glad to have things made under such good conditions.
The sleeping accommodation was excellent: the cells and beds of
remarkable cleanliness and comfort; no one could object to them.
The bath-house was of some interest. All the inmates have to
undergo a weekly bath on Sundays, in batches of ten at a time, and
their clothes are also kept thoroughly clean. The kitchen looked most
attractive, and the rice and soup, which form the staple of their food,
compared favourably with what one sees in the inns. The prisoners,
too, are allowed as much as they like at their two daily meals.
Throughout the Army there are no more than two meals a day. The
place of punishment looked uncommonly like a theatre stage, and
one cannot but hope that soon all executions will take place within
the prison precincts instead of in public; but as Europe has not yet
learnt to do this, one cannot be surprised that China has not.
After inspecting the Delco Engine, which provides light for the
whole place, we went to visit the women’s prison, which is within the
same enclosure as the men’s, though separated by a wall. It was
very much smaller in extent but equally well kept, and even, I must
add, attractive. The matron was a pleasant-faced, comely woman,
and her own room quite a picture. The white-curtained bed, pretty
coverlet, vase of flowers, and various little treasures suggested a
home, and as she took us round, it was easy to see that she was
happy in her work. We passed through the dining-room, where the
tables were spread with clean cloths, and bowls and chopsticks were
ready for the forthcoming meal. The prisoners were only about thirty
in number, and were busy making mattresses and clothing, knitting
and crocheting. It was suggested that they should sing a hymn,
which they did with evident pleasure, and some of them talked with
the missionary, who comes to see them once a week. The matron is
not a Christian, but finds the singing and reading does them so much
good that she has taken to learning and to teaching them herself.
The missionaries were originally invited by the master to come and
speak to the prisoners, and it is now a regular custom. One woman
who is in for murder has become quite a changed character, and her
term has been shortened in consequence of her good behaviour.
Some were in for opium-smoking, which is here a punishable
offence, while in other parts of the empire it is frankly encouraged.
The prisoners are allowed to have a visitor once a month, but no
complaints are allowed to be made. Visits are stopped if this

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