A Tea Reader (20 page)

Visit to the Ningpo
Green Tea District
¹

BY
R
OBERT
F
ORTUNE

Excerpted from
Three Years' Wanderings in the
Northern Provinces of China
,
1847.
²

Having despatched my collections to England by three different vessels from Hong Kong, I sailed again, at the end of March 1844, for the northern provinces. During the summer of this year, and in that of 1845, I was able to visit several parts of the country, which were formerly sealed to Europeans, and which contained subjects of much interest.

About the beginning of May I set out upon an excursion with Mr. Thom, the British consul, and two other gentlemen, to visit the green tea district near Ningpo. We were informed that there was a large and celebrated temple, named
Tein-tung,
in the center of the tea district, and above twenty miles distant, where we could lodge during our stay in this part of the country. Twelve or fourteen miles of our journey was performed by water, but the canal ending at the foot of the hills we were obliged to walk, or take chairs for the remainder of the way. The mountain traveling chair of China is a very simple contrivance. It consists merely of two long bamboo poles, with a board placed between them for a seat, and two other cross pieces, one for the back and the other for the feet; a large Chinese umbrella is held over the head to afford protection from the sun and rain.

The Chinese are quite philosophers after their own fashion. On our way to the temple, when tired with sitting so long in our boat, we several times got out and walked along the path on the sides of the canal. A great number of passage-boats going in the same direction with ourselves, and crowded with passengers, kept very near us for a considerable portion of the way, in order to satisfy their curiosity. A Chinese man never walks when he can possibly find any other mode of conveyance, and these persons were consequently much surprised to see us apparently enjoying our walk.

“Is it not strange,” said one, “that these people prefer walking when they have a boat as well as ourselves?” A discussion now took place amongst them as to the reason of this apparently strange propensity, when one, more wise than his companions, settled the matter by the pithy observation, “It is
their nature
to do so;” which was apparently satisfactory to all parties.

It was nearly dark when we reached the temple, and as the rain had fallen in torrents during the greater part of the day, we were drenched to the skin, and in rather a pitiable condition. The priests seemed much surprised at our appearance, but at once evinced the greatest hospitality and kindness, and we soon found ourselves quite at home amongst them. They brought us fire to dry our clothes, got ready our dinner, and set apart a certain number of their best rooms for us to sleep in. We were evidently subjects of great curiosity to most of them who had never seen an Englishman before. Our clothes, features, mode of eating, and manners were all subjects of wonder to these simple people, who passed off many a good-humored joke at our expense.

Glad to get off our clothes, which were still damp, we retired early to rest. When we arose in the morning, the view which met our eyes far surpassed in beauty any scenery which I had ever witnessed before in China. The temple stands at the head of a fertile valley in the bosom of the hills. This valley is well watered by clear streams, which flow from the mountains, and produces most excellent crops of rice. The tea shrubs, with their dark green leaves, are seen dotted on the lower sides of all the more fertile hills. The temple itself is approached by a long avenue of Chinese pine trees. This avenue is at first straight, but near the temple it winds in a most picturesque manner round the edges of two artificial lakes, and then ends in a flight of stone steps, which lead up to the principal entrance. Behind, and on each side, the mountains rise, in irregular ridges, from one to two thousand feet above the level of the sea. These are not like the barren southern mountains, but are clothed nearly to their summits with a dense tropical looking mass of brushwood, shrubs, and trees. Some of the finest bamboos of China are grown in the ravines, and the somber-colored pine attains to a large size on the sides of the hills. Here, too, I observed some very beautiful specimens of the new fir
(Cryptomeria japonica),
and obtained some plants and seeds of it, which may now be seen growing in the Horticultural Gardens at Chiswick.

After we had breakfasted, one of the head priests came and gave us a very pressing invitation to dine with him about mid-day; and in the meantime he accompanied us over the monastery, of which he gave the following history: “Many hundred years ago a pious old man retired from the world, and came to dwell in these mountains, giving himself up entirely to the performance of religious duties. So earnest was he in his devotions that he neglected everything relating to his temporal wants, even to his daily food. Providence, however, would not suffer so good a man to starve. Some boys were sent in a miraculous manner, who daily supplied him with food. In the course of time the fame of the sage extended all over the adjacent country, and disciples flocked to him from all quarters. A small range of temples was built, and thus commenced the extensive buildings which now bear the name of “Teintung,” or the “Temple of the Heavenly Boys;”
Tein
signifying heaven, and
tung
a boy. At last the old man died, but his disciples supplied his place. The fame of the temple spread far and wide, and votaries came from the most distant parts of the empire—one of the Chinese kings being amongst the number—to worship and leave their offerings at its altars. Larger temples were built in front of the original ones, and these again in their turn gave way to those spacious buildings which form the principal part of the structure of the present day.

All the temples are crowded with idols, or images of their favorite gods, such as the “three precious Buddhas,” “the Queen of Heaven”—represented as sitting on the celebrated lotus or nelumbium—“the God of War,” and many other deified kings and great men of former days. Many of these images are from thirty to forty feet in height, and have a very striking appearance when seen arranged in these spacious and lofty halls. The priests themselves reside in a range of low buildings, erected at right angles with the different temples and courts which divide them. Each has a little temple in his own house—a family altar crowded with small images, where he is often engaged in private devotion.

After inspecting the various temples and the belfry, which contains a noble bronze bell of large dimensions, our host conducted us back to his house, where the dinner was already on the table. The priests of the Buddhist religion are not allowed to eat animal food at any of their meals. Our dinner therefore consisted entirely of vegetables, served up in the usual Chinese style, in a number of small round basins, the contents of each—soups excepted—being cut up into small square bits, to be eaten with chopsticks. The Buddhist priests contrive to procure a number of vegetables of different kinds, which, by a peculiar mode of preparation, are rendered very palatable. In fact, so nearly do they resemble animal food in taste and in appearance, that at first we were deceived, imagining that the little bits we were able to get hold of with our chopsticks were really pieces of fowl or beef. Such, however, was not the case, as our good host was consistent on this day at least, and had nothing but vegetable productions at his table. Several other priests sat with us at table, and a large number of others of inferior rank with servants, crowded around the doors and windows outside. The whole assemblage must have been much surprised at the awkward way in which some of us handled our chopsticks, and, with all their politeness, I observed they could not refrain from laughing when, after repeated attempts, some little dainty morsel would still slip back again into the dish. I know few things more annoying, and yet laughable too, than attempting to eat with the Chinese chopsticks for the first time, more particularly if the operator has been wandering on the hills all the morning, and is ravenously hungry. The instruments should first of all be balanced between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand; the points are next to be brought carefully together, just leaving as much room as will allow the coveted morsel to go in between them; the little bit is then to be neatly seized; but alas! in the act of lifting the hand, one point of the chopstick too often slips past the other, and the object of all our hopes drops back again into the dish, or perhaps even into another dish on the table. Again and again the same operation is tried, until the poor novice loses all patience, throws down the chop-sticks in despair, and seizes a porcelain spoon, with which he is more successful. In cases like these the Chinese themselves are very obliging, although scarcely in a way agreeable to an Englishman's taste. Your Chinese friend, out of kindness and politeness, when he sees the dilemma in which you are, reaches across the table and seizes, with his own chopsticks, which have just come out of his mouth, the wished-for morsel, and with them lays it on the plate before you. In common politeness you must express your gratitude and swallow the offering.

During dinner our host informed us that there were about a hundred priests connected with the monastery, but that many were always absent on missions to various parts of the country. On questioning him as to the mode by which the establishment was supported, he informed us that a considerable portion of land in the vicinity belonged to the temple, and that large sums were yearly raised from the sale of bamboos, which are here very excellent, and of the branches of trees and brushwood, which are made up in bundles for firewood. A number of tea and rice farms also belong to the priests, which they themselves cultivate. Besides the sums raised by the sale of these productions, a considerable revenue must be derived from the contributions of the devotees who resort to the temple for religious purposes, as well as from the sums collected by those of the order who are out on begging excursions at stated seasons of the year. The priests are of course of all grades, some of them being merely the servants of the others, both in the house and in the fields. They seem a harmless and simple race, but are dreadfully ignorant and superstitious. The typhoon of the previous year, or rather the rain which had accompanied it, had occasioned a large slip of earth on one of the hillsides near the temple, and completely buried ten or twelve acres of excellent paddy land. On our remarking this, the priests told us with great earnestness that every one said it was a bad omen for the temple; but one of them with true Chinese politeness remarked that he had no doubt any evil influence would now be counteracted, since the temple had been honored with a visit from us.

After inspecting the tea farms and the mode of manufacturing it, Mr. Thom, Mr. Morrison, a son of the late Dr. Morrison, and Mr. Sinclair, returned to Ningpo, leaving me to prosecute my research in natural history in this part of the country. I was generally absent from the temple the whole day, returning at dark with the collections of plants and birds which I had been lucky enough to meet with in my peregrinations. The friends of the priests came from all quarters of the adjacent country to see the foreigner; and, as in the case of a wild animal, my feeding time seemed to be the most interesting moment to them. My dinner was placed on a round table in the center of the room, and although rather curiously concocted, being half Chinese and half English, the exercise and fresh air of the mountains gave me a keen appetite. The difficulties of the chopsticks were soon got over, and I was able to manage them nearly as well as the Chinese themselves. The priests and their friends filled the chairs, which are always placed down the sides of a Chinese hall, each man with his pipe in his mouth, and his cup of tea by his side. With all deference to my host and his friends, I was obliged to request the smoking to be stopped, as it was disagreeable to me while at dinner; in other respects, I believe I was “polite” enough. I shall never forget how inexpressibly lonely I felt the first night after the departure of my friends. The Chinese one by one dropped off to their homes or to bed, and at last my host himself gave several unequivocal yawns, which reminded me that it was time to retire for the night. My bedroom was upstairs, and to get to it I had to pass through a small temple, such as I have already noticed, dedicated to
Tein-how,
or the “Queen of Heaven,” and crowded with other idols. Incense was burning on the altar in front of the idols; a solitary lamp shed a dim light over the objects in the room, and a kind of solemn stillness seemed to pervade the whole place. In the room below, and also in one in an adjoining house, I could hear the priests engaged in their devotional exercises, in that singing tone which is peculiar to them. Then the sounds of the gong fell upon my ears; and, at intervals, a single solemn toll of the large bronze bell in the belfry; all which showed that the priests were engaged in public as well as private devotion. Amidst scenes of this kind, in a strange country, far from friends and home, impressions are apt to be made upon the mind, which remain vivid through life; and I feel convinced I shall never forget the strange mixture of feelings which filled my mind during the first night of my stay with the priests in the temple of Tein-tung. I have visited the place often since, passed through the same little temple, slept in the same bed, and heard the same solemn sounds throughout the silent watches of the night, and yet the first impressions remain in my mind distinct and single.