An Oriental Obsession: How the tea trade influenced European design

“That excellent, and by all physicians approved, China drink, called by the Chineans Tcha, by other nations Tay, alias Tee, is sold at the Sultaness Head Coffee-House, in Sweeting's Rents… It helpeth the headache, giddiness and heaviness thereof. It removeth the obstructions of the spleen...It prevents and cures agues, surfeits, and fevers by infusing a fit quantity of the leaf; thereby provoking a most gentle vomit and breathing of the pores, and hath been given with wonderful success….It is good for colds, dropsies, and scutvies, and expelleth infection.”                                                     
                                    Advert by Thomas Garraway in the Mercurious Politicus, 1658

When tea arrived in London in the 1650s it was heralded as a miracle cure-all, brought from exotic lands at the far ends of the earth to be the salvation of the English man. What Garraway and his contemporaries could not have anticipated was that their bitter tasting health drink would become an international phenomenon, influencing aspects of life from architecture to technology, dress-making and the decorative arts to theological debate. While a great deal of work has been done on the social impact of tea drinking and its impact on public health, very little has been done on the wider influence of the tea trade on European fashions.

Tea as a commodity is very light so additional cargoes had to be carried as ballast on the ships that brought the tea from Canton and around the Cape of Good Hope to Europe. The most obvious choice was Chinese porcelain which, in the form of tea sets and dinner services, was the perfect accompaniment to shipments of tea. Porcelain was much admired for its strength, fineness and beautiful glazes but the secret of its manufacture was closely guarded by the Chinese. From the time of Marco Polo rumours had abounded of its supposed ingredients – egg shells and bones to name but two – and the techniques required to make it, but it would not be until 1709 that Europeans mastered porcelain making for themselves. In the meantime porcelain, or ‘chinaware’ as it was more commonly called, could only be acquired from direct China.

Chinaware, as with tea, was a great hit amongst society figures in London, Paris and Amsterdam, so much so that in 1659 alone 56,7000 pieces were ordered to be shipped to Holland. European customers had certain expectations for their new Chinese goods: they should be in a supposedly Chinese style but still appealing to European tastes. Chinoiserie was born. Where Chinese factories led the way producing new designs to appeal to the European market, European sprung up in Meissen, Delft, and Stafford, painting their porcelain and similar wares with scenes of an idealised China. The blue and white Willow pattern, inspired by a non-existent Chinese prototype, became an instant hit and made its way into fashionable homes everywhere.

Chinese porcelain and pieces in a Chinese style were considered the height of sophistication and so had to be displayed for all to see. Lacquered cabinets, bamboo dressers and furniture painted with exotic scenes and oriental figures were considered the perfect way to show off chinaware and so, as with the porcelain itself, both the import of Chinese originals and the production of European imitations increased.

Drinking Chinese tea from a Chinese tea set and sat upon supposedly Chinese furniture, it is hardly a surprise that the next step was to be the Chinese room so that one might have the complete, ‘authentic’ Chinese experience. Wallpaper featuring Chinese scenes, not dissimilar to those in the willow pattern, were widely produced, oriental silks hung from the windows and covered furniture, and woodblock prints and watercolours finished off the oriental look. The most famous rooms of this kind still in existence are the Chinese House at Potsdam, and the Brighton Pavilion, the epitome of the Chinoiserie style.

Two factors led the Chinoiserie style to spread outdoors across fashionable parklands and gardens. Firstly, both the wealthy and their garden designers felt an urge to recreate at home the oriental scenes with which they had become so familiar. The pagoda in Kew Gardens is perhaps the most famous example of Chinese buildings being transposed into a very European context although, perhaps more entertaining, is the suggestions of one Sir George Sitwell  that all of the cows on his estate be stencilled with a blue Chinese pattern so that they complement his many garden works and follies. Much to the disappointment of Sir George, the animals in question refused to oblige and he was forced to abandon the scheme. Secondly, unlike coffee, tea was seen to be a drink for all the family. Neither pubs nor coffee houses were fit places for respectable women and children to assemble and so purpose-built tea gardens were built so that tea may be enjoyed in suitable, oriental-themed surroundings. The Vauxhall Tea Garden was opened to the public in the late 17^th century and was one of London’s most popular attractions for nearly 200 years. Guests paid a small entrance fee and were treated to concerts, dances and theatrical performances, as well as the perfect environment to socialise.

Whether hosting a tea party at home or visiting a city tea garden, meeting over tea was the perfect opportunity for a society woman to reveal her affluence and taste to her contemporaries. Tea gowns made of chintz – hand-painted Indian calico – were a popular choice, as were oriental-inspired outfits such as silk kimonos. The latter were inevitably accessorised with fans, gloves and chop sticks to complete the look. These eccentric outfits caught the attention of artists such as Monet, Whistler and Degas, who were inspired by the colours and textures of the clothes but also by the exoticism they represented in the East. Whistler’s 1864 painting La Princess du Pays de Porcelaine reveals how fascination with the Orient had become entrenched in Europe’s fine art as well craftsmanship and flights of fancy.