03 LEARNING THE LANGUAGE

Chapter 3 LEARNING THE LANGUAGE What kind of country is China ?

I know very little about it : all I know is that it is a very large country far to the east, but scarcely large enough to contain its inhabitants, who are so numerous, that though China does not cover one-ninth part of the world, its inhabitants amount to one-third of the population of the world. And do they talk as we do ?

Oh no ! I know nothing of their language, but I have heard that it is quite different from all others, and so difficult that none but the cleverest people amongst foreigners can master it. -- Lavengro. The advent of the young missionary on the mission field, and the birth of a child into the world, may seem two very different things, but it is the only analogy that does justice to the situation, in the opinion of those who have passed through the experience. His first task is to learn to speak. Until he has reduced the labyrinthine mass of sounds to an intelligible system, and acquired the difficult habit of uttering them in speech, his condition is one of helpless bewilderment. There is no royal road to the accomplishment of this end. " Sit down doggedly, sir," is not a comfortable maxim, but it is a wise one, and yields the best results. The first Chinaman with whom the young missionary becomes intimately acquainted is his " teacher." As this important personage enters the house after breakfast (before it, if he is allowed) to begin the work of the day, he makes a profound bow, which is more or less awkwardly returned. Putting his two hands together (for instead of shaking yours, he prefers to shake his own) he bends his body till his hands nearly touch the ground. He then slowly raises them upwards, till, standing perfectly erect, they reach the level of his head. For a moment he stands thus, then quickly drops them by his side. This done, his first word is no insipid remark upon the weather (for there is no weather in Manchuria), but a comfortable request to ascertain if you have " eaten your food." This formality over, the business of the day begins. He reads a sentence or two in Chinese, which you struggle to repeat after him, attempting to reproduce the sound, and to remember the formation of the character simultaneously. This form of vocal gymnastic goes on for two or three hours without intermission, with a growing sensation of despair on your part, and a not imperceptible pity on his. You pause and attempt conversation, which is apt to degenerate into monologue. Of course, you do not understand, but your ear must grow accustomed to sounds. He hunts up the characters in your book and points to the translation, and with the help of a vivid imagination you may perhaps divine his meaning. He is asking your honorable age ? How many " mouths " there are in your venerable home? What is the amount of your salary ? or perhaps he hints that it would be refreshing to sip a cup of tea on so hot a day.

All the time you are carefully noting these phrases for future use. Should you happen to leave the room for a moment, he forgets his rigid decorum, rises and makes good use of his time, examining the articles about the room. One missionary who used to read in his bed room (perhaps he had no other place) had occasion to leave his teacher for a moment. The weakness of the gentleman in question was a childish liking for foreign cakes. He saw on the washstand what he took to be one of his favorite rarities, and instantly proceeded to take a good bite of it. It was scented soap! On his return, the missionary took in the situation and asked him if he liked it. True to the " celestial " nature, not to betray the slightest trace of chagrin, he replied warmly in the affirmative! In learning a new language it is a mistake to stick too rigidly to books. A language is a living thing, and can best be acquired (1) by attentive listening, (2) by constant speaking, (3) by assiduous note-taking. Beginners are apt to stuff their memories with words and phrases, which unfortunately have a knack, like "Jeems " and " Thomas," of not coming when called for. The Chinese have a saying to the effect that it is all very well to have money in the bank when you are at home, but when travelling that will avail you nothing if you have no ready cash in your pocket. Speech is current coin, and is only of value when it can be put readily into circulation.

One’s first attempts to speak Chinese are apt, of course, to be humiliating. You take a walk into the country and spy a Chinaman coming along the road. There is no one near, so you resolve not to let the opportunity slip. You greet him with some of your newly-acquired phrases. To your amazement, he replies, " I don t understand foreign talk." He does not understand you because he does not expect to understand you. It takes him some time to perceive that it is possible for a foreigner to speak Chinese. The very slight difference in sound of the various Chinese words, caused by what is technically known as the tones, is a veritable slough of despond which the young pilgrim can hardly hope to escape. For example, ma #1 means " mother " ; ma #2 means " hemp " ; ma #3 means " horse " ; and ma #4 is " to curse." Care must be taken, therefore, when addressing a mother not to swear, or when calling for your horse not to be handed a piece of hemp. Tell your " boy " to bring a chair, but do not be surprised if he presents you with a cake of soap (yi #1 tzu, yi #3 tzu). A missionary who wished his " boy " to go to the street to buy a cupboard, failed to understand his reluctance till he discovered that he had really asked him to buy a " foreign devil " (kuei : kuei tzu). Another, who wished to invite a friend into a restaurant for some refreshments, only understood why the invitation was declined when informed that he had really asked him to walk into his coffin (kuan tzu : kuan). Not less amusing was the enthusiastic missionary who, while inculcating the duty of preaching the doctrine (ch uan tao), really informed his hearers that they ought to wear trousers (chuan t ao).

Learning to speak, however, is only one-half the task of acquiring a knowledge of Chinese. The missionary must learn to read. If ambitious, he may even acquire the art of writing but this is a herculean task. The Chinese language, being ideographic, each hieroglyphic is a symbolical representation of a given thing or idea. It is composed of two parts. The part to the left (or as happens sometimes, on the top) is the radical, which gives a clue to the meaning; while that on the right hand (or as sometimes happens, below) is the phonetic, and gives the proper sound to the whole word. The total number of Chinese characters has been estimated at 50,000, but more than one-half are obsolete. The using vocabulary of an educated man seldom amounts to more than between 5000 and 6000, while the number used in the translation of the New Testament is limited to 2713, and the thirteen classics are made up of 6544 separate characters. The young student gets his " teacher " to write a dozen or so of these characters daily on little detached slips of paper, on the back of which he writes the sound in Roman letters, with proper tone and meaning. One enthusiastic beginner hit on the ingenious plan of having a number of those slips of paper served up to breakfast every morning. His " boy " had instructions to put a hundred or two in the sugar basin, and he did not allow himself to begin breakfast till he had passed them one by one into the slop basin. Nothing but constant reading accustoms the eye to the peculiar formation of the characters, but after a year or two one is able to read almost as fluently as in English. After a six months residence in the country it is possible to converse a little ; but, in the case of most men who are not gifted with a special genius for the acquisition of languages, it invariably takes from eighteen months to two years before they can attempt the sustained and dignified speech essential to good preaching.

Interest in the people grows with a growing mastery of the language. Excursions into the rich field of Chinese literature open up a new world to the student, amply rewarding him for all past struggles.

Apart from the classical books of the sages, which interpret better than anything else the gravitas of the Chinese character, there are whole libraries of novels, plays, and poems that throw a flood of light upon the lighter and more human moods of this most wonderful people. It has been well said that "we are too apt to give the Chinaman credit for being interested in little else than cash and chowchow (food) ; in spite of ourselves we cannot conceive him in an ideal aspect, or credit him with any delicacy of feeling or fineness of taste. Yet these people also are richly endowed with that mysterious creative power of imagination which gives to genius its light, and to love its glory. Across their hearts also has swept the rush of enthusiasm for brave deeds, and the sweetness of kind thoughts, trembling tenderness, discursive fancy, soft breathings of pity and the rain of tears."