Tea And The Opium Wars

My research for The Tea Planter’s Daughter into the Victorian / Edwardian tea trade eventually took me back to the murky world of early British capitalism. This was the time of the British East India Company prising land off rulers in the North of India to grow opium crops.

These were used in the Opium Wars: with the loss of its trade monopoly, the East India Company needed to gain access to China’s lucrative, protected markets, and one of the main products they wanted to buy on an open market was tea. The trade in opium through intermediaries and Chinese smugglers weakened the Chinese economy by simultaneously draining it of silver while creating increasing numbers of addicts.

At it’s peak, it is estimated that ninety percent of all chinese males under forty in the coastal regions were addicted to opium.

Almost by chance, the opium growers discovered that something else grew naturally on the hot, humid slopes and rich soils of Assam – the evergreen camallia. The tea bush was growing wild, right under their noses!

So they switched to tea growing, sending out eager young men (often Scots) to chance their luck as tea planters. Judging from the cemetery records, many died young of malaria, fever and dysentery. Their isolation and misery was more than matched by the dire conditions of their bonded workforce. Lured by the chance of work from the drought-stricken areas of India, they were heded like cattle onto ferries up the Brahmaputra River, and often died of cholera or smallpox before even reaching the tea gardens.

What these early pioneers succeeded in doing though was to change the palette of the British. They were weaned off the delicate, smoky China teas, and onto the stronger, earthier varieties grown in India and Ceylon.

I found a colonial report into the industry that sums it up nicely:

“It is a remarkable fact, in the British Empire that though British tea-drinking proclivities were nourished on China teas, the taste has gradually changed until Indian and Ceylon teas are now predominant. A great part of the credit for this development is due to the blenders for careful blinding in the early days of the industry, the public having been led on by gentle steps to appreciate a good ‘body’ in its tea.

The British people, wherever domiciled, are the world’s greatest drinkers of tea, and their preference is for afine, full-flavoured tea with stimulating properties… China teas are not popular in any part of the Empire, and while it may be too much to say that China tea-drinking in this country is merely a fashionable fad, that expression does approach somewhere near the truth.“

By the end of the 19th century, the tea industry in India was big business. the gardens were run like factory farms and the processing – the withering, rolling, fermenting and drying of the leaves – was all highly mechanised. And those machines? They bore names like Britannia and Victoria, and were made in the industrial heartlands of the the Empire’s mother country.

Like so many products of the age, they were built to last, and some are still in use today:

A Jolly Nice Cup Of Tea

You’d never know it, but thanks to the wonders of modern technology, when I was writing last week’s post about Ringtons Tea, I was actually sitting in a salon de thé in Antibes. We were over there taking a few days well-earned R&R.

Tea shops suddenly seem to be quite the thing in France - très chic in fact. Trendy boutiques sell everything you could need to make a really good cuppa – I bought one of these little tea infusers, which now that we’re home, I’ve been using to make endless cups of green tea:

The only thing you can’t buy is a tea cosy – maybe with the warmer weather in the South of France, they don’t think they’re necessary

In the salons de thé, things are obviously quite different from a British tea room like one run by Clarissa Belhaven Tyneside. There’s none of the ritual that we have – when you order a cup of tea, you get a tea cup full of hot water, with a tea bag on the saucer brought to the table. Once, the waiter even forgot to put the tea bag on the saucer – much to his embarrassment!

Maybe they could all do with learning the secret of how to make a brew – as shown in this film from 1941:

Tea On Tyneside

The Newcastle firm Ringtons Tea was part of the inspiration for The Tea Planter’s Daughter. My husband, Graeme, worked for them during school holidays when he was a sixteen year-old school boy in Wallsend, and I was always intrigued about this family business whose delivery vans are such a feature of the North East – seen in this film from the time of my teenage years:

Rington’s was established in 1907, so I’m sure you can see the close links with my character Clarissa Belhaven – the story of The Tea Planter’s Daughter starts in India in 1905. Prior to the problems with her father’s plantation, I imagined her life being fairly similar to my mother’s and uncles’, who were brought up in India in the 1920s and 30s when my grandfather was a forester in the North of the country:

My uncles photographed with the gardener in India

Mum and her brothers in Lahore

Clarissa returned to Tyneside shortly after (at about the time Ringtons were making their first delivery) with dreams of opening her own tea room to be a safe haven for the locals amidst the grinding poverty of the time.

In Edwardian England everyone shopped in the high street, but many firms ran a home delivery service – something that’s still the cornerstone of Ringtons. When they started out it was horse-drawn vans:

Ringtons is still based on Algernon Road in Byker:

It was through a conversation with the man who in the 1940s drove the last of Ringtons horse-drawn vans in Blyth that I decided to write about the tea trade in the North East of England. As I got further into the research, I visited Ringtons and spoke to the current generation of the company’s founding family, the Smiths, who were very helpful in my research, telling me about the early history of the firm.

You can read more on the history of Ringtons on their site – do make sure you take the time to look at the images at the bottom of the page!

A Baby In India

The Tea Planter’s Daughter begins the story with the idyllic childhood of Clarissa & Olive Belhaven on their father’s once-thriving Indian tea plantation.

The descriptions for this part of the book were inspired by my mother’s early life - my grandfather, Robert Gorrie was a forester in northern India:

I’m currently going through a stack of photos from their time in India, and over the next couple of weeks I’ll scan the best and post them here. In the meantime, here’s one to show you how hard the journey could be – this is how mum experienced perambulating through the Himalayan foothills:

Definitely a photo that’s a product of its time!

More Census Evasion

I’ve no idea how I missed this one – the TV Show, “Find My Past” had an episode in December about the relatives of Suffragettes:

The programme’s web page features a number of defaced census forms. These include Emily Wilding Davison‘s record as a “resident” of the House of Commons on census night (she was hiding in the crypt as a protest):

One with a leaflet posted over it, and the words, “No persons here, only women!” written in:

And finally, this one, “No vote – no census. House deserted (April 2nd to 3rd) by Suffragist who demands the vote. Considers that if she is intelligent enough to fill up this schedule she can surely make a X on a ballot paper” – a statement that gets to the crux of the matter!:

My book, The Suffragette explores the issues these women were protesting – this was a national movement, so I set the Suffragette in Tyneside to provide a backdrop of working class realism for what is sometimes portrayed now as a middle / upper class struggle.

Is It Really Thirty Five Years?

How time flies when you’re having fun! Thirty five years ago I had just returned from a trip of a lifetime.

Three months overland by bus from London to Kathmandu – a trip that became the seed that grew into The Vanishing of Ruth.

Arriving in Kathmandu I discovered there was no air ticket home so had to spend the last of my money going to Delhi were it was supposed to be waiting. In those days you couldn’t just slap down your plastic and get on the next available flight! Luckily a friend from the trip, Nikki, was in the same position as – guess what? – when we got to Delhi just before New Year, there were no tickets there either!

It took 2 weeks of excitements, tears and strange encounters before we managed to get flights home – but that’s another story! From my diary:

WEDNESDAY 12TH JANUARY, 1977

“Up at 4.0!  Packed and had toast and coffee.  John drove me in the bus; had tea at airport – checked in.  Unclaimed black bag near us!  We told 4 people, including Security, but not bothered!  John and Bob are taking the bus off today – making for Europe in 4 weeks – will be freezing trip eg Turkey minus 40 degrees at night!  Offered me a lift back and pay at other end if got stuck – nearly had to take it!

Security checks etc – finally on plane.  Next to nice ex-British Council man (like Hoppy [Canon Hopkins of Durham Cathedral] though not quite as vague!)  accompanying nice little lad back to school.  Told him of my adventure – he took half of journey working out the length of the journey!

Stopped at Barhain - swarthy blokes with cloths wrapped round heads and in jumpsuits came on board – no not a high-jack – they were the cleaners!  From plane saw Gulf and flat beaches, low buildings – all very oily and drab.  Landed at Damascus - armed guard, took ages for people to board.  Flat wasteland all around; but when took off saw great snow-capped mountains - flew over Lebanon and then Turkey.

Landed at Heathrow an hour late – journey taken about 13 and a half hours!  At Heathrow after customs etc, got bus to Terminus 1 and picked up money plus ticket for Newcastle.  Missed original flight.  Suddenly theloudspeaker boomed my name and ordered me to Information; feeling important but afraid I went – it was Mum and Dad wondering why I wasn’t on plane!  I must be the most well-known lost traveller in the whole air flight business!

Had much needed half pint.  Plane late (so what’ new!)  Onto plane finally - ordered Martini and fell asleep, woke to hear we’re about to land!  No time for drink.  Hostress asked me if I was feeling alright.

Dad and Don [eldest brother] to greet me – in their Russian coats!  Snow thick on ground.  As drove home – told of great Delhi saga!  Mum and Barbara [sister-in-law] waiting.  Don and Barbara opened champagne for me.  Debbie [school friend] rang!  Flowers from Jock [Durham friend] and card from “the whole damn bunch”!  Torq [brother] phoned; just missed them.  Phoned Rory and Uncle Donald.

Wine with slap-up meal.  Gave presents – much concern over beedies - obviously hash at least.  Don said when you get to the string you bail out!  (Dad smoked the wrong end!)  After 26 hours finally fell into bed!  Adventure over !!!”