Peter J. Kitson’s The Kindness of my Friends in England and David Clarke’s Chinese Visitors to 18th Century Britain both provide valuable accounts of early encounters between the English and the Chinese. Unfortunately, like so much modern scholarship, they suffer from the predictable racialised framing that insists on imposing contemporary obsessions onto historical events. Kitson, in particular, seems determined to present 18th-century Britain as an empire riddled with the imagined bigotry of modern scholarship. He interprets the welcoming attitude of the English elite toward Chinese visitors as an exercise in condescension, as if the rituals of politeness and admiration extended to these guests were little more than a masked form of exclusion. The reality, as the evidence in both works makes clear, is quite different.

The 18th century was a period of British confidence, where trade and industry were rapidly expanding, and the ruling class saw itself as engaged in an Enlightenment project of learning and exchange. Unlike the hostile and self-loathing modern Western elite, they took pride in their achievements and were eager to engage with outsiders who had something to offer. The Chinese visitors who arrived in London were not met with hostility or rejection but with curiosity and admiration.

Chinese Visitors to Britain: A Case Study in Enlightenment Cosmopolitanism

Both Kitson and Clarke introduce us to three prominent Chinese visitors: Loum Kiqua, a merchant; Chitqua, a portrait modeller; and Whang at Tong, a scholar. Their experiences provide a fascinating insight into Anglo-Chinese relations at the time.

Loum Kiqua arrived in London in 1756 and was immediately treated as a figure of intrigue and respect. His reception was not one of racial suspicion but of fascination. He was introduced to King George II and became something of a celebrity in polite society. Indeed, he was described as being “caressed” by the English nobility, a rather striking contrast to his earlier treatment in Portugal, where he had suffered harsh treatment after being caught in the Lisbon earthquake. His musical talents also earned him a place in history, as he is recorded as having performed what is likely the first Chinese musical piece ever played in Britain.

Chitqua, who arrived in 1769, was similarly well received. An artist by trade, he quickly integrated into the London art scene. He exhibited at the newly established Royal Academy, met King George III, and even secured commissions from Josiah Wedgwood. His clay busts were admired by the British elite, and he was seen as a talented artist first and foremost, rather than as an exotic curiosity. He was even included in The Academicians of the Royal Academy, a celebrated painting by Johann Zoffany, which depicted him as an equal among Britain’s leading artists.

Then there was Whang at Tong, a scholar who arrived in 1774. Unlike Loum Kiqua and Chitqua, he was a young man of just twenty-two, but he quickly became embedded in the intellectual circles of the time. He assisted with botanical research, helped classify Chinese books at Oxford, and was known to have dined with Sir Joshua Reynolds and Sir William Jones. His engagement with English scholars was not that of a passive subject of imperial curiosity but of an intellectual contributing to an exchange of ideas. He later returned to China but remained in contact with British intellectuals, sending books and botanical specimens to figures such as Joseph Banks.

A Mutual Curiosity, Not Hostility

The contrast between the treatment of these men and the racialised narratives peddled by modern academics could hardly be greater. Far from being met with suspicion, Chinese visitors were embraced by British high society. While there may have been moments of misunderstanding, there is no evidence of widespread hostility. On the contrary, these visitors were treated as honoured guests, their knowledge and skills valued.

What is equally striking is how the Chinese viewed Britain. They did not see it as a centre of civilisation in the way the British saw China, nor did they look upon it with hostility. Rather, they approached it with curiosity, noting its technological advancements and cultural peculiarities but maintaining a quiet confidence in their own civilisation. The Chinese of this period did not suffer from the inferiority complex that modern postcolonial scholars wish to project onto them.

There was, however, a fundamental difference in worldview. The British, steeped in the Enlightenment, saw knowledge as something to be freely shared and improved upon. They eagerly sought out Chinese expertise in botany, porcelain-making, and language. The Chinese, by contrast, maintained a more closed attitude toward foreign influence, as seen in their strict controls over trade and travel. Even the Chinese visitors to London seemed to view their time in England as an interesting diversion rather than as a cultural revelation.

Lessons for Today

These historical encounters reveal a world that was more complex than the simplistic oppression narratives peddled by modern scholars. In 18th-century London, the British and Chinese met as equals, engaging in cultural and intellectual exchange. There was no systematic racial exclusion, no grand scheme of Western domination—just the natural curiosity of two great civilisations encountering one another.

How far we have fallen. The modern West, unlike its 18th-century counterpart, is no longer confident in its own identity. It has been taught to despise itself, to racialise every encounter, and to see its own history as a long list of sins. Today’s Western elite, unlike their predecessors, do not seek to learn from other civilisations but to bend the knee before them, apologising for imagined historical wrongs while ignoring their own achievements.

There is, however, something to learn from these encounters. A confident civilisation does not cower in guilt. It does not rewrite its history to fit ideological narratives. It engages, learns, and improves. If the West had retained the mindset of the 18th-century British elite, it might still be a force for progress and knowledge rather than a society consumed by self-doubt and decline.

The lesson of Loum Kiqua, Chitqua, and Whang at Tong is not one of Western oppression. It is a lesson in what happens when great civilisations meet with curiosity, intelligence, and mutual respect. It is a lesson modern Westerners would do well to remember.

Citations

• Peter J. Kitson, “The Kindness of my Friends in England”: Chinese Visitors to Britain in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries and Discourses of Friendship and Estrangement, European Romantic Review, Vol. 27, No. 1 (2016), pp. 55-70.
• David Clarke, Chinese Visitors to 18th Century Britain and Their Contribution to Its Cultural and Intellectual Life, Curtis’s Botanical Magazine, Vol. 34, No. 4 (2017), pp. 498–521.

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