Chapter 1

[Cover illustration]

THE LITTLE TEA BOOK

COMPILED BY ARTHUR GRAY

_Compiler of Over the Black Coffee_

ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE W. HOOD

NEW YORK

THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 33-37 EAST 17TH ST., UNION SQ. NORTH

COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY

_Published, October, 1903_

The Crow Press, N.H.

Thou soft, thou sober, sage, and venerable liquid! Thou innocent pretence for bringing the wicked of both sexes together in the morning! Thou female tongue-running, smile-soothing, heart-opening, wink-tipping cordial to whose glorious insipidity I owe the happiest moments of my life. --COLLEY CIBBER.

_INTRODUCING THE LITTLE TEA BOOK_

After all, tea is _the_ drink! Domestically and socially it is the beverage of the world. There may be those who will come forward with _their_ figures to prove that other fruits of the soil-- agriculturally and commercially--are more important. Perhaps they are right when quoting statistics. But what other product can compare with tea in the high regard in which it has always been held by writers whose standing in literature, and recognized good taste in other walks, cannot be questioned?

A glance through this book will show that the spirit of the tea beverage is one of peace, comfort, and refinement. As these qualities are all associated with the ways of women, it is to them, therefore--the real rulers of the world--that tea owes its prestige and vogue.

Further peeps through these pages prove this to be true; for nearly all the allusions and references to the beverage, by male writers, reveal the womanly influence that tea imparts. But this is not all. The side-lights of history, customs, manners, and modes of living which tea plays in the life of all nations will be found entertaining and instructive. Linked with the fine feminine atmosphere which pervades the drinking of the beverage everywhere, a leaf which can combine so much deserves, at least, a little human hearing for its long list of virtues; for its peaceful walks, talks, tales, tattle, frills, and fancies which go to make up this tribute to "the cup that cheers but not inebriates."

_THE ORIGIN OF TEA_

Darma, third son of Koyuwo, King of India, a religions high priest from Siaka (the author of that Eastern paganism about a thousand years before the Christian era), coming to China, to teach the way of happiness, lived a most austere life, passing his days in continual mortification, and retiring by night to solitudes, in which he fed only upon the leaves of trees and other vegetable productions. After several years passed in this manner, in fasting and watching, it happened that, contrary to his vows, the pious Darma fell asleep! When he awoke, he was so much enraged at himself, that, to prevent the offence to his vows for the future, he got rid of his eyelids and placed them on the ground. On the following day, returning to his accustomed devotions, he beheld, with amazement, springing up from his eyelids, two small shrubs of an unusual appearance, such as he had never before seen, and of whose qualities he was, of course, entirely ignorant. The saint, however, not being wholly devoid of curiosity--or, perhaps, being unusually hungry--was prompted to eat of the leaves, and immediately felt within him a wonderful elevation of mind, and a vehement desire of divine contemplation, with which he acquainted his disciples, who were eager to follow the example of their instructor, and they readily received into common use the fragrant plant which has been the theme of so many poetical and literary pens in succeeding ages.

_TEA_

By FRANCIS SALTUS SALTUS

From what enchanted Eden came thy leaves That hide such subtle spirits of perfume? Did eyes preadamite first see the bloom, Luscious nepenthe of the soul that grieves?

By thee the tired and torpid mind conceives Fairer than roses brightening life's gloom, Thy protean charm can every form assume And turn December nights to April eves.

Thy amber-tinted drops bring back to me Fantastic shapes of great Mongolian towers, Emblazoned banners, and the booming gong; I hear the sound of feast and revelry, And smell, far sweeter than the sweetest flowers, The kiosks of Pekin, fragrant of Oolong!

_LITTLE CUPS OF CHINESE AND JAPANESE TEA_

Although the legend credits the pious East Indian with the discovery of tea, there is no evidence extant that India is really the birthplace of the plant.

Since India has no record of date, or facts, on stone or tablet, or ever handed down a single incident of song or story--apart from the legend--as to the origin of tea, one is loath to accept the claim--if claim they assert--of a people who are not above practising the "black art" at every turn of their fancy.

Certain it is that China, first in many things, knew tea as soon as any nation of the world. The early Chinese were not only more progressive than other peoples, but linked with their progress were important researches, and invaluable discoveries, which the civilized world has long ago recognized. Then, why not add tea to the list?

At any rate, it is easy to believe that the Chinese were first in the tea fields, and that undoubtedly the plant was a native of both China and Japan when it was slumbering on the slopes of India, unpicked, unsteeped, undrunk, unhonored, and unsung.

A celebrated Buddhist, St. Dengyo Daishai, is credited with having introduced tea into Japan from China as early as the fourth century. It is likely that he was the first to teach the Japanese the use of the herb, for it had long been a favorite beverage in the mountains of the Celestial Kingdom. The plant, however, is found in so many parts of Japan that there can be little doubt but what it is indigenous there as well.

The word TEA is of Chinese origin, being derived from the Amoy and Swatow reading, "Tay," of the same character, which expresses both the ancient name of tea, "T'su," and the more modern one, "Cha." Japanese tea, "Chiya"--pronounced Châ.

Tea was not known in China before the Tang dynasty, 618-906 A.D. An infusion of some kind of leaf, however, was used as early as the Chow dynasty, 1122-255 B.C., as we learn from the Urh-ya, a glossary of terms used in ancient history and poetry. This work, which is classified by subjects, has been assigned as the beginning of the Chow dynasty, but belongs more properly to the era of Confucius, K'ung Kai, 551-479 B.C.

Although known in Japan for more than a thousand years, tea only gradually became the national beverage as late as the fourteenth century.

In the first half of the eighth century, 729 A.D., there was a record made of a religious festival, at which the forty-fifth Mikado---"Sublime Gate"--Shommei Tenno, entertained the Buddhist priests with tea, a hitherto unknown beverage from Corea, which country was for many years the high-road of Chinese culture to Japan.

After the ninth century, 823 A.D., and for four centuries thereafter, tea fell into disuse, and almost oblivion, among the Japanese. The nobility, and Buddhist priests, however, continued to drink it as a luxury.

During the reign of the eighty-third Emperor, 1199-1210 A.D., the cultivation of tea was permanently established in Japan. In 1200, the bonze, Yei-Sei, brought tea seeds from China, which he planted on the mountains in one of the most northern provinces. Yei-Sei is also credited with introducing the Chinese custom of ceremonious tea-drinking. At any rate, he presented tea seeds to Mei-ki, the abbot of the monastery of To-gano (to whom the use of tea had been recommended for its stimulating properties), and instructed him in the mystery of its cultivation, treatment, and preparation. Mei-ki, who laid out plantations near Uzi, was successful as a pupil, and even now the tea-growers of that neighborhood pay tribute to his memory by annually offering at his shrine the first gathered tea-leaves.

After that period, the use of tea became more and more in fashion, the monks and their kindred having discovered its property of keeping them awake during long vigils and nocturnal prayers.

Prom this time on the development and progress of the plant are interwoven with the histories and customs of these countries.

_ON TEA_

The following short poem by Edmund Waller is believed to be the first one written in praise of the "cup that does not inebriate":

Venus her myrtle, Phoebus has her bays; Tea both excels, which she vouchsafes to praise. The best of Queens, and best of herbs, we owe To that bold nation, which the way did show To the fair region where the sun doth rise, Whose rich productions we so justly prize. The Muse's friend, tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapors which the head invade, And keep the palace of the soul serene, Tit on her birthday to salute the Queen.

Waller was born in 1605, and died in 1687, aged eighty-two.

_SOME ENGLISH TEA HISTORY_

Tea was brought into Europe by the DUTCH EAST INDIA COMPANY, in 1610. It was at least forty, and perhaps forty-seven, years later that England woke up to the fascinations of the new drink. Dr. Johnson puts it at even a later date, for he claims that tea was first introduced into England by Lords Arlington and Ossory, in 1666, and really made its debut into society when the wives of these noblemen gave it its vogue.

If Dr. Johnson's statement is intended to mean that nothing is anything until the red seal of the select says, "Thus shall it be," he is right in the year he has selected. If, on the other hand, the Doctor had in mind society at large, he is "mixed in his dates," or leaves, for tea was drawn and drunk in London nine years before that date.

Garway, the founder of Garraway's coffee house, claimed the honor of being first to offer tea in leaf and drink for public sale, in 1657. It is pretty safe to fix the entrance of tea into Europe even a few years ahead of his announcement, for merchants in those days did not advertise their wares in advance.

However, this date is about the beginning of TEA TIME, for in the _Mercurius Politicius_ of September, 1658, appeared the following advertisement:

That excellent and by all Physitians approved China drink, called by the Chineans, Tcha, by other nations, Tay, or Tea, is sold at the Sultana's Head, a Copphee House, in Sweetings Rents, by the Royal Exchange, London.

Like all new things, when they have fastened on to the public's favor, tea was on everybody's lips and in everybody's mouth. It was lauded to the skies, and was supposed to be good for all the ills of the flesh. It would cure colds and consumption, clear the sight, remove lassitude, purify the liver, improve digestion, create appetite, strengthen the memory, and cure fever and ague.

One panegyrist says, while never putting the patient in mind of his disease, it cheers the heart, without disordering the head; strengthens the feet of the old, and settles the heads of the young; cools the brain of the hard drinker, and warms that of the sober student; relieves the sick, and makes the healthy better. Epicures drink it for want of an appetite; _bon vivants_, to remove the effects of a surfeit of wine; gluttons, as a remedy for indigestion; politicians, for the vertigo; doctors, for drowsiness; prudes, for the vapors; wits, for the spleen; and beaux to improve their complexions; summing up, by declaring tea to be a treat for the frugal, a regale for the luxurious, a successful agent for the man of business, and a bracer for the idle.

Poets and verse-makers joined the chorus in praise of tea, in Greek and Latin. One poet pictures Hebe pouring the delightful cup for the goddesses, who, finding it made their beauty brighter and their wit more brilliant, drank so deeply as to disgust Jupiter, who had forgotten that he, himself,

"Drank tea that happy morn, When wise Minerva of his brain was born."

Laureant Tate, who wrote a poem on tea in two cantos, described a family jar among the fair deities, because each desired to become the special patroness of the ethereal drink destined to triumph over wine. Another versifier exalts it at the expense of its would-be rival, coffee:

"In vain would coffee boast an equal good, The crystal stream transcends the flowing mud, Tea, even the ills from coffee spring repairs, Disclaims its vices and its virtues shares."

Another despairing enthusiast exclaims:

"Hail, goddess of the vegetable, hail! To sing thy worth, all words, all numbers, fail!"

The new beverage did not have the field all to itself, however, for, while it was generally admitted that

Tea was fixed, and come to stay. It could not drive good meat and drink away.

Lovers of the old and conservative customs of the table were not anxious to try the novelty. Others shied at it; some flirted with it, in tiny teaspoonfuls; others openly defied and attacked it. Among the latter were a number of robust versifiers and physicians.

"'Twas better for each British virgin, When on roast beef, strong beer and sturgeon, Joyous to breakfast they sat round, Nor were ashamed to eat a pound."

The fleshly school of doctors were only too happy to disagree with their brethren respecting the merits and demerits of the new-fangled drink; and it is hard to say which were most bitter, the friends or the foes of tea.

Maria Theresa's physician, Count Belchigen, attributed the discovery of a number of new diseases to the debility born of daily tea-drinking. Dr. Paulli denied that it had either taste or fragrance, owing its reputation entirely to the peculiar vessels and water used by the Chinese, so that it was folly to partake of it, unless tea-drinkers could supply themselves with pure water from the Vassie and the fragrant tea-pots of Gnihing. This sagacious sophist and dogmatizer also discovered that, among other evils, tea-drinking deprived its devotees of the power of expectoration, and entailed sterility; wherefore he hoped Europeans would thereafter keep to their natural beverages-- wine and ale--and reject coffee, chocolate, and tea, which were all equally bad for them.

In spite of the array of old-fashioned doctors, wits, and lovers of the pipe and bottle, who opposed evil effects, sneered at the finely bred men of England being turned into women, and grumbled at the stingy custom of calling for dish-water after dinner, the custom of tea-drinking continued to grow. By 1689 the sale of the leaf had increased sufficiently to make it politic to reduce the duty on it from eight pence on the decoction to five shillings a pound on the leaf. The value of tea at this time may be estimated from a customhouse report of the sale of a quantity of divers sorts and qualities, the worst being equal to that "used in coffee-houses for making single tea," which, being disposed of by "inch of candle," fetched an average of twelve shillings a pound.

During the next three years the consumption of tea was greatly increased; but very little seems to have been known about it by those who drank it--if we may judge from the enlightenment received from a pamphlet, given gratis, "up one flight of stairs, at the sign of the Anodyne Necklace, without Temple Bar." All it tells us about tea is that it is the leaf of a little shoot growing plentifully in the East Indies; that Bohea--called by the French "Bean Tea"--is best of a morning with bread and butter, being of a more nourishing nature than the green which may be used when a meal is not wanted. Three or four cups at a sitting are enough; and a little milk or cream renders the beverage smoother and more powerful in blunting the acid humors of the stomach.

The satirists believed that tea had a contrary effect upon the acid humors of the mind, making the tea-table the arena for the display of the feminine capacity for backbiting and scandal. Listen to Swift describe a lady enjoying her evening cups of tea:

"Surrounded with the noisy clans Of prudes, coquettes and harridans. Now voices over voices rise, While each to be the loudest vies; They contradict, affirm, dispute, No single tongue one moment mute; All mad to speak, and none to hearken, They set the very lapdog barking; Their chattering makes a louder din Than fish-wives o'er a cup of gin; Far less the rabble roar and rail When drunk with sour election ale."

Even gentle Gay associated soft tea with the temper of women when he pictures Doris and Melanthe abusing all their bosom friends, while--

"Through all the room From flowery tea exhales a fragrant fume."

But not all the women were tea-drinkers in those days. There was Madam Drake, the proprietress of one of the three private carriages Manchester could boast. Few men were as courageous as she in declaring against the tea-table when they were but invited guests. Madam Drake did not hesitate to make it known when she paid an afternoon's visit that she expected to be offered her customary solace--a tankard of ale and a pipe of tobacco.

Another female opponent of tea was the _Female Spectator_, which declared the use of the fluid to be not only expensive, but pernicious; the utter destruction of all economy, the bane of good housewifery, and the source of all idleness. Tradesmen especially suffered from the habit. They could not serve their customers because their apprentices were absent during the busiest hours of the day drumming up gossips for their mistresses' tea-tables.

This same censor says that the most temperate find themselves obliged to drink wine freely after tea, or supplement their Bohea with rum and brandy, the bottle and glass becoming as necessary to the tea-table as the slop-basin.

Although Jonas Hanway, the father of the umbrella, was successful in keeping off water, he was not successful in keeping out tea. All he did accomplish in his essay on the subject was to call forth a reply from Dr. Johnson, who, strange to say, instead of vigorously defending his favorite tipple, rather excuses it as an amiable weakness; confessing that tea is a barren superfluity, fit only to amuse the idle, relax the studious, and dilute the meals of those who cannot take exercise, and will not practise abstinence. His chief argument in tea's favor is that it is drunk in no great quantity even by those who use it most, and as it neither exhilarates the heart nor stimulates the palate, is, after all, but a nominal entertainment, serving as a pretence for assembling people together, for interrupting business, diversifying idleness; admitting that, perhaps, while gratifying the taste, without nourishing the body, it is quite unsuited to the lower classes.

It is a singular fact, too, that at that period there was no other really vigorous defender of the beverage. All the best of the other writers did was to praise its pleasing qualities, associations, and social attributes.

Still, tea grew in popular favor, privately and publicly. The custom had now become so general that every wife looked upon the tea-pot, cups, and caddy to be as much her right by marriage as the wedding-ring itself. Fine ladies enjoyed the crowded public entertainments with tea below stairs and ventilators above. Citizens, fortunate enough to have leaden roofs to their houses, took their tea and their ease thereon. On Sundays, finding the country lanes leading to Kensington, Hampstead, Highgate, Islington, and Stepney, "to be much pleasanter than the paths of the gospel," the people flocked to those suburban resorts with their wives and children, to take tea under the trees. In one of Coleman's plays, a Spitalfield's dame defines the acme of elegance as:

"Drinking tea on summer afternoons At Bagnigge Wells with china and gilt spoons."

London was surrounded with tea-gardens, the most popular being Sadlier's Wells, Merlin's Cave, Cromwell Gardens, Jenny's Whim, Cuper Gardens, London Spa, and the White Conduit House, where they used to take in fifty pounds on a Sunday afternoon for sixpenny tea-tickets.

One D'Archenholz was surprised by the elegance, beauty, and luxury of these resorts, where, Steele said, they swallowed gallons of the juice of tea, while their own dock leaves were trodden under foot.

The ending of the East India Company's monopoly of the trade, coupled with the fact that the legislature recognized that tea had passed out of the catalogue of luxuries into that of necessities, began a new era for the queen of drinks destined to reign over all other beverages.

_O TEA!_

In the drama of the past Thou art featured in the cast; (O Tea!) And thou hast played thy part With never a change of heart, (O Tea!) For 'mid all the ding and dong Waits a welcome--soothing song, For fragrant Hyson and Oolong. . . . A song of peace, through all the years, Of fireside fancies, devoid of fears, Of mothers' talks and mothers' lays, Of grandmothers' comforts--quiet ways. Of gossip, perhaps--still and yet-- What of Johnson? Would we forget The pictured cup; those merry times, When round the board, with ready rhymes Waller, Dryden, and Addison--Young, Grave Pope to Gay, when Cowper sung? Sydney Smith, too; gentle Lamb brew, Tennyson, Dickens, Doctor Holmes knew. The cup that cheered, those sober souls, And tiny tea-trays, samovars, and bowls. . . . So here's a toast to the queen of plants, The queen of plants--Bohea! Good wife, ring for your maiden aunts, We'll all have cups of tea. --ARTHUR GRAY.

_TEA TERMS_

JAPANESE

Ori-mono-châ . . . Folded Tea Giy-ôku-ro-châ . . . Dew Drop Tea Usu-châ . . . Light Tea Koi-châ . . . Dark Tea Tô-bi-dashi-châ . . . Sifted Tea Ban-châ . . . Common Tea Yu-Shiyutsu-châ . . . Export Tea Neri-châ . . . Brick Tea Koku-châ . . . Black Tea Ko-châ . . . Tea Dust Broken Leaves Riyoku-châ . . . Green Tea

CHINESE

Bohea . . . "Happy Establishment" So called after two ranges of hills, Fu-Kien or Fo-Kien Congou . . . Labor Named so at Amoy from the labor in preparing it. Sou chong . . . Small Kind Hyson . . . Flourishing Spring Pe-koe . . . White Hair So called because only the youngest leaves are gathered, which still have the delicate down--white hair--on the surface. Pou-chong . . . Folded Tea So called at Canton after the manner of picking it.

Brick Tea--prepared in Central China from the commonest sorts of tea, by soaking the tea refuse, such as broken leaves, twigs, and dust, in boiling water and then pressing them into moulds. Used in Siberia and Mongolia, where it also serves as a medium of exchange. The Mongols place the bricks, when testing the quality, on the head, and try to pull downward over the eyes. They reject the brick as worthless if it breaks or bends.

_TEA LEAVES_

BY JOHN ERNEST MCCANN