The few specimens of Mexican writing which have come down to us, show that, though the Aztecs had not used their picture-signs as skilfully as some other nations have done, they had taken the first step towards phonetic, or sound-writing; a step which, if pursued, would have led them through some such process as we shall afterwards see was followed by the Egyptians and Phœnicians, to the formation of a true alphabet. They had begun to write proper names of chiefs and towns by pictures of things that recalled the sound of their names, instead of by a symbol suggestive of the appearance or quality of the place or chieftain, or of the meaning of the names. It is difficult to explain this without pictures; but as this change of method involves a most important step in the discovery of the art of writing, we had better pause upon it a little, and get it clear to our minds. There was a king whose name occurs in a chronicle now existing, called Itz-co-atle, Knife-snake; his name is generally written by a picture of a snake, with flint knives stuck in it; but in one place it is indicated in a different manner. The first syllable is still pictured by a knife; but for the second, instead of a snake, we find an earthen pot and a sign for water. Now the Mexican name for pot is ‘co-mitle,’ for water ‘atle;’ read literally the name thus pictured would read ‘Itz-comitle-atle,’ but it is clear, since the name intended was ‘Itz-co-atle,’ that the pot is drawn to suggest only the first syllable of its name, co, and by this change it has become no longer a picture, but a phonetic, syllabic sign, the next step but one before a true letter. What great results can be elaborated from this change we shall see when we begin to speak of Egyptian writing.
We must not leave picture-writing till we have said something about the Chinese character, in which we find the highest development of which direct representation of things appears capable. Though we should not think it, while looking at the characters on a Chinese tea-paper or box, every one of those groups of black strokes and dots which seem so shapeless to our eyes is a picture of an object; not a picture of the sound of its name, as our written words are, but a representation real or symbolic of the thing itself. Early specimens of Chinese writing show these groups of strokes in a stage when a greater degree of resemblance to the thing signified is preserved; but the exigencies of quick writing, among a people who write and read a great deal, have gradually reduced the pictures more and more to the condition of arbitrary signs, whose connection with the things signified must be a matter of habit and memory. The task of learning a sign for every word of the language in place of conquering the art of spelling does seem, at first sight, to put Chinese children in a pitiable condition, as compared with ourselves. To lessen our compassion, we may recall that the Chinese language is still in a primitive condition, and therefore comprehends very much fewer distinct sounds than do the languages we know, the same sound being used to express meanings by a difference in intonation. This difference could not easily be given in writing; it is therefore, with the Chinese, almost a necessity to recall to the mind the thing itself instead of its name.
Ideographs.
Beside the ordinary pictorial signs which convey a direct and simple idea to the mind, men must in pictorial writing need a great number of signs for ideas which cannot be pictured. All abstract ideas, for instance, come under this head. But even some things which could themselves be drawn are not always so portrayed. When a symbol, and not a direct picture, is used for the thing or idea represented we call the symbol an ideograph. We see, then, that pictorial signs may be used in several different ways, sometimes as real pictures, sometimes as ideographs, which again may be divided into groups as they are used—(1) metaphorically, as a bee for industry; (2) enigmatically, as, among the Egyptians, an ostrich feather is used as a symbol of justice, because all the plumes in the wing of this bird were supposed to be of equal length; (3) by syndoche—putting a part for the whole,—as two eyeballs for eyes; (4) by metonomy—putting cause for effect,—as a tree for shadow; the disk of the sun for a day, etc. This system of writing in pictures and symbols requires so much ingenuity, such hosts of pretty poetic inventions, that perhaps there is less dulness than would at first appear in getting the Chinese alphabet of some six thousand signs or so by heart. We will mention a few Chinese ideographs in illustration. The sign for a man placed over the sign for a mountain peak signifies a hermit; the sign for a mouth and that for a bird placed side by side signify the act of singing; a hand holding a sweeping-brush is a woman; a man seated on the ground, a son (showing the respectful position assigned to children in China); an ear at the opening of a door means curiosity; two eyes squinting towards the nose mean to observe carefully; one eye squinting symbolises the colour white, because so much of the white of the eye is shown when the ball is in that position; a mouth at an open door is a note of interrogation, and also the verb to question.
Determinative signs.
Even Chinese writing, however, has not remained purely ideographic. Some of the signs are used phonetically to picture sound, and this use must necessarily grow now that intercourse with Western nations introduces new names, new inventions, and new ideas, which, somehow or other, must get themselves represented in the Chinese language and writing.
The invention of determinative signs—characters put beside the word to show what class of objects a word belongs to—helps the Chinese to overcome some of the difficulties which their radical language offers to the introduction of sound-writing. For example, the word ‘Pa’ has eight different meanings, and when it is written phonetically, a reader would have to choose between eight objects to which he might apply it, if there were not a determinative sign by its side which gives him a hint how to read it. This is as if when we wrote the word ‘vessel’ we were to add ‘navigation’ when we intended a ship; and ‘household’ when we meant a jug or puncheon. The Chinese determinative signs are not, however, left to each writer’s fancy. Two hundred and fourteen signs (originally themselves pictures, remember) have been chosen out, and are always used in this way. The classes into which objects are divided by these numerous signs are minute, and do not appear to follow any scientific method or arrangement. There is a sign to show that a written word belongs to the class noses, another for rats, another for frogs, another for tortoises. One is inclined to think that the helpful signs must be as hard to remember as the words themselves, and that they can only be another element in the general confusion. Probably their frequent recurrence makes them soon become familiar to Chinese readers, and they act as finger-posts to guide the thoughts into the right direction. Determinative signs have always come in to help in the transitional stage between purely ideographic and purely phonetic writing, and were used by both Egyptians and Assyrians in their elaborate systems as soon as the phonetic principle began to be employed among their ideographs.
It is an interesting fact that the Japanese have dealt with the Chinese system of writing precisely as did the Phœnicians with the Egyptian hieroglyphics. They have chosen forty-seven signs from the many thousands employed by the Chinese, and they use them phonetically only; that is to say, as true sound-carrying letters.
CHAPTER XIII.
PHONETIC WRITING.
Transition to phonetic writing.