A Chinese textbook from 1940 reveals how quickly language and cultural attitudes can
　　become passé
　　几句话，带你穿越到民国━━四十年代汉语课本里的旧世界
　　“A great multitude surges along the uneven narrow footwalk or in the deepset street; and coolies, bearing heavy loads, shout for way in short sharp cries. Hawkers with guttural sound call their wares...rude boys cry out at the foreigner in a shrill and scornful voice...”
　　The scene: China in the early 20th century, as described by author W. Somerset Maugham. Anyone who’s experienced the excruciating, high-pitched “helloooo” of the laowai-curious mainlander would be forgiven for thinking that for expats in China, the more things change, the more they stay the same. But the word “coolies” gives us a hint as to the social and linguistic changes that have transpired over the years. Chinese language textbooks for foreign learners have existed for longer than you might think—Jesuit missionaries created learning tools as early as the 16th century. These old textbooks provide an interesting snapshot of the life and the attitudes of the times in which they were written. Some time ago I came across a copy of the textbook “Introduction to Spoken Chinese” (《华言拾级》 Hu1y1n Sh!j!), written by the Russian expatriate and sinologue J. J. Brandt. The book was published in Shanghai in 1940, and it’s safe to say that some of its language hasn’t passed the test of time, as the example sentences seem to target wealthy expats with plenty of household staff. The book was aimed at the class of Western diplomats, dignitaries and high-flying businessmen who made their homes in the expat enclaves of China’s bigger cities. Textbooks such as these were clearly geared for those living in China long-term, informing the reader how best to handle one’s business and, naturally, one’s Chinese staff. It is clear that this is how expats used to live, and the examples are quite illuminating.
　　What follows are some of the most jarring examples of outdated speech in the book, as well as suggestions for what a contemporary expat might say instead.
　　Naturally, the original text was printed in traditional script, though they are reprinted here as simplified characters.
　　 1. THE HELP
　　Tomorrow we are moving; hire some coolies.
　　M!ngti`n w6men b`nji`, g& j@ ge k^l# l1i.
　　明天我们搬家，雇几个苦力来。
　　These days of course, we would be hiring movers (搬家公司 b`nji` g4ngs~) and not “coolies.” The Chinese for coolie—苦力 (k^l#), literally “hard labour,” is an example of a phonetic translation that is also a good phonosemantic match. A modern equivalent would be:
　　


　　


　　Hire a moving company. Q@ng y# ji` b`nji` g4ngs~ l1i.
　　请一家搬家公司来。
　　A coolie, essentially a slave laborer, is a relic of the imperial past, and the term has morphed into something of a slur. But are those wizened, sun-dried men who tire ceaselessly on their overladen trikes in towns and cities across the country even today not coolies all but in name? You may think so, but in past times, coolies were no better off than medieval serfs. In the time this textbook was written, coolies were seen as almost sub-human. As Maugham attests, locals’ opinion of coolies was that they were “animals [who] for two thousand years from father to son have carried burdens, so it is no wonder if they do it cheerfully.”
　　This is my No. 1 house boy. Zh- sh# w6 de gu2nsh# de.
　　这是我的管事的。
　　We have now moved into an age of the ayi (阿姨), the maid, and no longer have house servants. House boys were generally native boys who helped with the household tasks of their (usually foreign) masters. Nowadays, having a “native” boy about the house to iron your socks would be more than just frowned upon, but it’s still perfectly OK in certain expat circles if your “house boy” is a matronly woman and paid minimum wage. And if you happen to have more than one ayi we hope you aren’t ranking them by number either...
　　The modern equivalent: This is my ayi.
　　Zh- sh# w6 de `y!.
　　这是我的阿姨。
　　Is your master at home? N@ de l2oye z3iji` me?
　　你的老爷在家么？
　　“Master,” of course, sounds terribly classist. These days we would ask after one’s “employer” or “landlord”:
　　Is your employer in? L2ob2n z3i ma?
　　老板在吗？
　　The book goes on to supply a typical reply:
　　Our master is out, but the young master is at home.
　　W6men l2oye ch$m9n le. Sh3oye z3iji` na.
　　我们老爷出门了。少爷在家哪。
　　He is my rickshaw man. T` sh# w6 de l`ch8 de.
　　他是我的拉车的。
　　While the terminology has changed, plenty of people still have drivers. Nowadays we would say:
　　He’s my driver. T` sh# w6 de s~j~.
　　他是我的司机。
　　Rickshaws (人力车 r9nl#ch8, literally“person-powered vehicle”) have never quite died out in China’s busy city centers, as they are a cheap and quick means of going short distances in overly congested streets. The real difference is that, these days, people don’t tend to have a “rickshaw man”on staff. Rolling up to a high-powered business meeting in a rickshaw pulled by a sweaty, semi-naked man doesn’t have quite the same effect as arriving in an Audi with your own personal driver.
　　 2. HYGIENE
　　Hurry up and bring me some water to wash my face.
　　N@ ku3i g0i w6 d2 x@li2nshu@ l1i.
　　你快给我打洗脸水来。
　　In an age where running tap water is taken for granted, we no longer need people to fetch us a bowl of water with which to carry out our morning wash. Nor would it be considered terribly polite to do so. A modern equivalent would be:
　　Could I please have a basin of water to wash my face?
　　Q@ng g0i w6 y# p9n x@li2nshu@.
　　请给我一盆洗脸水。
　　Note how in the original example, the speaker is commanding someone to rush off and get some water—“Chop-chop, on the double, serving boy!” — but in the 21st century, even when we are telling our employees or subordinates what to do, it should still be couched in polite terms, hence the use of 请 (q@ng), “please.”
　　If you have no time the whole year, do you not take baths at all?
　　Ru7sh# n@ y# ni1n m9iy6u g4ngfu, y0 b& x@z2o me?
　　若是你一年没有工夫，也不洗澡么？
　　 Related to the last example, hygiene has come a long way in 80 years. This example tells you a lot about the attitudes of wealthy expats to the locals back in the day—and these attitudes haven’t really changed, a situation exacerbated by the fact that large numbers of rural dwellers tend not to have regular baths, especially in the more frigid, arid north. Even so, social mores have definitely moved on, and modern textbooks are not in the business of teaching students how to bring someone’s personal hygiene into question. If you are really dying to know the bathing habits of a Chinese acquaintance, you could ask:
　　When was the last time you had a shower?
　　N@ sh3ngc# x@z2o sh# sh9nme sh!hou?
　　你上次洗澡是什么时候?
　　Please bear in mind that we do not actually advise you do this; after all, it usually pays to be polite!
　　This article isn’t worth a single copper.
　　Zh-ge d4ngxi y! g- t5ngz@r y0 b& zh!.
　　这个东西一个铜子儿也不值。This example isn’t evaluating the relative worth of the very magazine article you are currently reading, but is in fact talking about commodities in general—the equivalent phrase in (British) English being “this isn’t worth a penny.” Copper coins are no longer used in China, so this phrase has gone completely out of date, though it would still be understood as an archaism. In today’s China, a common expression used to suggest that something is worthless would be:
　　This is not worth a single fen. Zh- y# f8n qi1n d4u b&zh!.
　　这一分钱都不值。
　　Fen (分) are the smallest unit of the renminbi—so small in fact that they have practically disappeared from use. We can see then that the sentence structure hasn’t really changed, only the currencyspecific vocabulary—from coppers to fen.
　　As a final aside, the inside cover of the book reads thus:“Modern students of Chinese owe a good deal to Mr. Brandt…and will find additional reasons to thank him for this new text.”Quite so, for we can also thank Brandt for such pedagogic classics as “Literary Chinese,”“Wenli Particles” and “Modern Newspaper Chinese,” and though us “modern students” no longer have need of coolies and house boys, we can still genuinely appreciate the slice of social history that Brandt’s work has served to preserve.-BY DUNCAN POUPARD