But if the passage has been only imperfectly committed, and the pupil is brought to a standstill for the lack of characters to repeat, he does not pause to collect his thoughts, for he has no thoughts to collect--has in fact no thoughts to speak of. What he has, is a dim recollection of certain sounds, and in order to recall those which he has forgotten, he keeps on repeating the last word, or phrase, or sentence, or page, until association regains the missing link. Then he plunges forward again, as before.
Let us suppose, for example, that the words to be recited are the following, from the Confucian Analects, relating to the habits of the master: "He did not partake of wine and dried meat bought in the market. He was never without ginger when he ate. He did not eat much." The young scholar, whose acquaintance with this chapter is imperfect, nevertheless dashes on somewhat as follows: "He did not partake--he did not partake--partake--partake--partake--partake of wine and dried meat bought in--bought in--bought in the market--market--the market--the market. He was never without ginger--when--ginger--when-ginger--when he ate-he ate-he ate-he-ate-ate-he did not eat-eat-eat-eat-eat without ginger when he ate-he did not eat-did not eat much."
This is the method of all Chinese instruction. The consequence of so much roaring on the part of the scholars is that every Chinese school seems to an inexperienced foreigner like a bedlam. No foreign child could learn, and no foreign teacher could teach, amid such a babel of sound, in which it is impossible for the instructor to know whether the pupils are repeating the sounds which are given to them, or not. As the effect of the unnatural and irrational strain of such incessant screaming upon their voices, it is not uncommon to find Chinese scholars who are so hoarse that they cannot pronounce a loud word.
The first little book which the scholar has put into his hands, is probably the "Trimetrical Classic," (already mentioned) so called from its arrangement in double lines of three characters above and three below, to a total number of more than 1,000. It was composed eight centuries and a half ago by a preceptor for his private school, and perhaps there are few compositions which have ever been so thoroughly ground into the memory of so many millions of the human race as this. Yet of the inconceivable myriads who have studied it, few have had the smallest idea by whom it has written, or when. Dr. Williams has called attention to the remarkable fact that the very opening sentence of this initial text-book in Chinese education, contains one of the most disputed doctrines in the ancient heathen world: "Men at their birth, are by nature radically good; in their natures they approximate, but in practice differ widely." After two lines showing the modifying effects of instruction, and the importance of attention, the mother of Mencius is cited as an expert in object lessons for her famous son. The student is next reminded that "just was the life of Tou, of Yen; five sons he reared, all famous men."