MY FIRST TRIP TO THE TEA DISTRICTS
On the 11th of March, 1859, I found myself on board of a Woo-Sik-Kwei, a
Chinese boat built in Woo-Sik, a city situated on the borders of the
Grand Canal, within a short distance of the famous city of Suchau--a
rival of the city of Hangchau, for wealth, population, silk manufacture,
and luxury. The word “Kwei” means “fast.” Therefore, Woo-Sik-Kwei means
fast boats of Woo-Sik. These passenger boats which plied between the
principal cities and marts situated near the waters of the canal and
lake system in southern Kianksu, were usually built of various sizes and
nicely fitted up for the comfort and convenience of the public. Those
intended for officials, and the wealthy classes, were built on a larger
scale and fitted up in a more pretentious style. They were all
flat-bottom boats. They sailed fairly well before the wind, but against
it, they were either tracked by lines from the mast to the trackers on
shore, or by sculling, at which the Chinese are adepts. They can give a
boat a great speed by a pair of sculls resting on steel pivots that are
fastened at the stern, one on each side, about the middle of the scull,
with four men on each scull; the blades are made to play in the water
astern, right and left, which pushes and sends the boat forward at a
surprisingly rapid rate. But in recent years, steam has made its way
into China and steam launches have superseded these native craft which
are fast disappearing from the smooth waters of Kiangsu province--very
much as the fast sailing ships, known as Baltimore Clippers, that in the
fifties and sixties were engaged in the East India and China trade, have
been gradually swept from the ocean by steam.
At the end of three days, I was landed in the historic city of Hangchau,
which is the capital of Chêhkiang. It is situated on a plain of uneven
ground, with hills in the southwest and west, and northeast. It covers
an area of about three or four square miles. It is of a rectangular
shape. Its length is from north to south; its breadth, from east to
west. On the west, lies the Si-Hoo or West Lake, a beautiful sheet of
limpid water with a gravelly or sandy bottom, stretching from the foot
of the city wall to the foot of the mountains which appear in the
distance in the rear, rising into the clouds like lofty bulwarks
guarding the city on the north.
The Tsientang River, about two miles distant, flanks the city on the
east. It takes its rise from the high mountain range of Hwui Chow in the
southeast and follows a somewhat irregular course to the bay of the same
name, and rushes down the rocky declivities like a foaming steed and
empties itself into the bay about forty miles east of the city. This is
one of the rivers that have periodical bores in which the tidal waters
in their entrance to the bay create a noise like thunder, and the waves
rise to the height of eight or ten feet.
Hangchau, aside from her historic fame as having been the seat of the
government of the Sung Dynasty of the 12th and 13th centuries, has
always maintained a wide reputation for fine buildings, public and
private, such as temples, pagodas, mosques and bridges, which go to lend
enchantment to the magnificent natural scenery with which she is
singularly endowed. But latterly, age and the degeneration of the times
have done their work of mischief. Her past glory is fast sinking into
obscurity; she will never recover her former prestige, unless a new
power arises to make her once more the capital of a regenerated
government.
On the 15th of March, I left Hangchau to ascend the Tsientang River, at
a station called Kang Kow, or mouth of the river, about two miles east
of the city, where boats were waiting for us. Several hundreds of these
boats of a peculiar and unique type were riding near the estuary of the
river. These boats are called Urh Woo, named after the district where
they were built. They vary from fifty to one hundred feet in length,
from stem to stern, and are ten or fifteen feet broad, and draw not more
than two or three feet of water when fully loaded. They are all
flat-bottom boats, built of the most limber and flexible material that
can be found, as they are expected to meet strong currents and run
against rocks, both in their ascent and descent, on account of the
irregularity and rocky bottom of the river. These boats, when completely
equipped and covered with bamboo matting, look like huge cylinders, and
are shaped like cigars. The interior from stem to stern is divided into
separate compartments, or rooms, in which bunks are built to accommodate
passengers. These compartments and bunks are removed when room is
needed for cargoes. These boats ply between Hangchau and Sheong Shan and
do all the interior transportation by water between these entrepôts in
Chêhkiang and Kiangsi. Sheong Shan is the important station of
Chêhkiang, and Yuh-Shan is that of Kiangsi. The distance between the two
entrepôts is about fifty lis, or about sixteen English miles, connected
by one of the finest macadamized roads in China. The road is about
thirty feet wide, paved with slabs of granite and flanked with
greenish-colored cobbles. A fine stone arch which was erected as a
land-mark of the boundary line separating Chêhkiang and Kiangsi
provinces, spans the whole width of the road. On both sides of the
key-stone of the arch are carved four fine Chinese characters, painted
in bright blue, viz., Leang Hsing Tung Chu:
[Illustration: Chinese characters]
This is one of the most notable arch-ways through which the
inter-provincial trade has been carried on for ages past. At the time
when I crossed from Sheong Shan to Yuh-Shan, the river ports of Hankau,
Kiukiang, Wuhu and Chinkiang were not opened to foreign trade and
steam-boats had not come in to play their part in the carrying trade of
the interior of China. This magnificent thoroughfare was crowded with
thousands of porters bearing merchandise of all kinds to and
fro--exports and imports for distribution. It certainly presented an
interesting sight to the traveller, as well as a profound topic of
contemplation to a Chinese patriot.
The opening of the Yangtze River, which is navigable as far as Kingchau,
on the borders of Szechwan province, commanding the trade of at least
six or seven provinces along its whole course of nearly three thousand
miles to the ocean, presents a spectacle of unbounded possibilities for
the amelioration of nearly a third of the human race, if only the
grasping ambition of the West will let the territorial integrity and the
independent sovereignty of China remain intact. Give the people of China
a fair chance to work out the problems of their own salvation, as for
instance the solution of the labor question, which has been so radically
disorganized and broken up by steam, electricity and machinery. This has
virtually taken the breath and bread away from nine-tenths of the people
of China, and therefore this immovable mass of population should be
given ample time to recover from its demoralization.
To go back to my starting point at Kang Kow, the entrance to the river,
two miles east of Hangchau, we set sail, with a fair wind, at five
o’clock in the morning of the 15th of March, and in the evening at ten
o’clock we anchored at a place named the “Seven Dragons,” after having
made about one hundred miles during the day. The eastern shore in this
part of the Tsientang River is evidently of red sandstone formation, for
we could see part of the strata submerged in the water, and excavations
of the stone may be seen strewn about on the shore. In fact, red
sandstone buildings may be seen scattered about here and there. But the
mountain about the Seven Dragons is picturesque and romantic.
Early the next day, we again started, but the rain poured down in
torrents. We kept on till we reached the town of Lan Chi and came to
anchor in the evening, after having made about forty miles. This is the
favorite entrepôt where the Hupeh and Hunan congou teas were brought all
the way from the tea districts of these provinces, to be housed and
transhipped to Shanghai via Hangchau. Lan Chi is an entrepôt of only
one street, but its entire length is six miles. It is famous for its
nice hams, which are known all over China. On account of the incessant
rain, we stopped half a day at Lan Chi. In the afternoon the sky began
to clear and at twelve o’clock in the night we again started and reached
the walled city of Ku Chow, which was besieged by the Taiping rebels in
March, 1858, just a year before; after four months’ duration the siege
was raised and no great damage was done. We put up in an inn for the
night. Ku Chow is a departmental city of Chêhkiang and is about thirty
miles distant from Sheong Shan, already mentioned in connection with
Yuh-Shan. We were delayed by the Custom House officials, as well as on
account of the scarcity of porters and chair-bearers to take us over to
Sheong Shan. We arrived at Yuh-Shan from Sheong Shan by chair in the
evening. We put up in an inn for the night, having first engaged fishing
boats to take us to the city of Kwangshun, thirty miles from Yuh-Shan,
the next morning. After reaching Yuh-Shan, we were in Kiangsi territory,
and our route now lay in a west by north direction, down stream towards
the Po Yang Lake, whose southern margin we passed, and reached Nan
Cheong, the capital of Kiangsi province. The city presented a fine
outward appearance. We did not stop long enough to go through the city
and see its actual condition since its evacuation by the rebels.
Our route from Nan Cheong was changed in a west by south direction,
making the great entrepôt of Siang Tan our final goal. In this route, we
passed quite a number of large cities that had nothing of special
importance, either commercially or historically, to relate. We passed
Cheong Sha, the capital of Hunan, in the night. We arrived at Siang Tan
on the morning of the 15th of April. Siang Tan is one of the noted
entrepôts in the interior of China and used to be the great distributing
center of imports when foreign trade was confined to the single port of
Canton. It was also the emporium where the tea and silk goods of China
were centered and housed, to be carried down to Canton for exportation
to foreign countries. The overland transport trade between Siang Tan and
Canton was immense. It gave employment to at least one hundred thousand
porters, carrying merchandise over the Nan Fung pass, between the two
cities, and supported a large population along both sides of the
thoroughfare. Steam, wars and treaties of very recent dates have not
only broken up this system of labor and changed the complexion of the
whole labor question throughout China, but will also alter the
economical, industrial and political conditions of the Chinese Empire
during the coming years of her history.
At Siang Tan, our whole party, composed of tea-men, was broken up and
each batch began its journey to the district assigned it, to begin the
work of purchasing raw tea and preparing it to be packed for shipment in
Shanghai.
I stayed in Siang Tan about ten days and then made preparations for a
trip up to the department of Kingchau in Hupeh province, to look into
the yellow silk produced in a district called Ho-Yung.
We left Siang Tan on the 26th of April, and proceeded northward to our
place of destination. Next morning at eight o’clock we reached Cheong
Sha, the capital of Hunan province. As the day was wet and gloomy, we
stopped and tried to make the best of it by going inside of the city to
see whether there was anything worth seeing, but like all Chinese
cities, it presented the same monotonous appearance of age and filth,
the same unchangeable style of architecture and narrow streets. Early
next morning, we resumed our boat journey, crossed the Tung Ting Lake
and the great river Yangtze till we entered the mouth of the King Ho
which carried us to Ho Yung. On this trip to hunt after the yellow
silk--not the golden fleece--we were thirteen days from Siang Tan. The
country on both banks of the King Ho seemed quiet and peaceful and
people were engaged in agricultural pursuits. We saw many buffaloes and
donkeys, and large patches of wheat, interspersed with beans. A novel
sight presented itself which I have never met with elsewhere in China. A
couple of country lassies were riding on a donkey, and were evidently in
a happy mood, laughing and talking as they rode by. Arriving in Ho Yung,
we had some difficulty in finding an inn, but finally succeeded in
securing quarters in a silk hong. No sooner were we safely quartered,
than a couple of native constables called to know who we were; our names
and business were taken down. Our host, the proprietor of the hong, who
knew the reason of our coming, explained things to the satisfaction of
the men, who went away perfectly satisfied that we were honest traders
and no rebel spies. We were left to transact our business unmolested.
As soon as our object was known, numerous samples of yellow silk were
brought for our inspection. We selected quite a number of samples, which
altogether weighed about sixty-five pounds, and had them packed to be
taken to Shanghai.
At the end of a fortnight, we concluded to take our journey back.
Accordingly, on the 26th of May we bade Ho Yung farewell, and started
for the tea district of Nih Kia Shi, in the department of Cheong Sha,
via Hankau. We arrived at Hankau on the 5th of June, and put up in a
native inn. The weather was hot and muggy, and our quarters were narrow
and cut off from fresh air. Three days after our arrival, three deputies
visited us to find out who we were. It did not take long to convince
them that we were not rebel spies. We showed them the package of yellow
silk, which bore marks of a war-tax which we had to pay on it, all along
the route from Ho Yung to Hankau. We were left unmolested.
The port of Hankau had not been opened for foreign trade, though it was
well understood that it was to be opened very soon. Before its capture
by the Taiping rebels, or rather before the Taiping rebels had made
their appearance on the stage of action, Hankau was the most important
entrepôt in China. When the Taiping rebels captured Woochang in 1856,
Hankau and Han Yang fell at the same time, and the port was destroyed by
fire and was reduced to ashes. At the time of my visit, the whole place
was rebuilt and trade began to revive. But the buildings were temporary
shifts. Now the character of the place is completely changed and the
foreign residences and warehouses along the water’s edge have given it
altogether a European aspect, so that the Hankau of today may be
regarded as the Chicago or St. Louis of China, and in no distant day she
is destined to surpass both in trade, population and wealth. I was in
Hankau a few days before I crossed the Yangtze-Kiang to the black tea
district of Nih Kia Shi.
We left Hankau on the 30th of June and went over to the tea packing
houses in Nih Kia Shi and Yang Liu Tung on the 4th of July. I was in
those two places over a month and gained a complete knowledge of the
whole process of preparing the black tea for the foreign market. The
process is very simple and can be easily learned. I do not know through
what preparations the Indian and Assam teas have to go, where machinery
is used, but they cannot be very elaborate. Undoubtedly, since the
fifties, manual labor, the old standby in preparing teas for foreign
consumption, has been much improved with a view of retaining a large
percentage of the tea trade in China. The reason why a large percentage
of the tea business has passed away from China to India is not because
machinery is used in the one case and manual labor is retained in the
other, but chiefly on account of the quality of the tea that is raised
in the different soil of the two countries. The Indian or Assam tea is
much stronger (in proportion to the same quantity) than the Chinese tea.
The Indian tea is 2-1 to Chinese tea, in point of strength, whereas the
Chinese tea is 2-1 to the Indian tea in point of delicacy and flavor.
The Indian is rank and strong, but the Chinese tea is superior in the
quality of its fine aroma. The higher class of tea-drinkers in America,
Europe and Russia prefer China tea to Indian, whereas the laboring and
common class in those countries take to Indian and Assam, from the fact
that they are stronger and cheaper.
In the latter part of August I decided to return to Shanghai, not by way
of Siang Tan, but via Hankau, down the Yangtze River to Kiu Kang and
across the Poh Yang Lake. I arrived at Hankau again the second time on
the 29th of August, having left there two months previous, in July. This
time I came in a Hunan junk loaded with tea for Shanghai. At Ho Kow, the
southern shore of the Poh Yang Lake, I had to follow the same route I
took in March, and on the 21st of September I landed at Hangchau and
from there I took a Woo-Sik-Kwei for Shanghai, where I arrived in the
night of the 30th of September, the time consumed on this journey having
been seven months--from March to October. It was my first journey into
the interior of China, and it gave me a chance to gain an insight into
the actual condition of the people, while a drastic rebellion was going
on in their midst. The zone of the country through which I had passed
had been visited by the rebels and the imperialists, but was, to all
outward appearance, peaceful and quiet. To what extent the people had
suffered both from rebel and imperialist devastations in those sections
of the country, no one can tell. But there was one significant fact that
struck me forcibly and that was the sparseness of population, which was
at variance with my preconceived notions regarding the density of
population in China which I had gathered from books and accounts of
travelers. This was particularly noticeable through that section of
Chêhkiang, Kiangsi, Hunan and Hupeh, which I visited. The time of the
year, when crops of all kinds needed to be planted, should have brought
out the peasantry into the open fields with oxen, mules, donkeys,
buffaloes and horses, as indispensable accessories to farm life. But
comparatively few farmers were met with.
Shortly after my arrival from the interior, in October, an English
friend of mine requested me to go to Shau Hing to buy raw silk for him.
Shau Hing is a city located in a silk district about twenty miles
southwest of Hangchau, and noted for its fine quality of silk. I was
about two months in this business, when I was taken down with fever and
ague and was compelled to give it up. Shau Hing, like most Chinese
cities, was filthy and unhealthy and the water that flowed through it
was as black as ink. The city was built in the lowest depression of a
valley, and the outlet of the river was so blocked that there was hardly
any current to carry off the filth that had been accumulating for ages.
Hence the city was literally located in a cesspool--a breeding place
for fever and ague, and epidemics of all kinds. But I soon recovered
from the attack of the fever and ague and as soon as I could stand on my
legs again, I immediately left the malarial atmosphere, and was, in a
short time, breathing fresher and purer air.