In the popular imagination, the 18th century is when Britain began being great. After emerging, battered and bruised, from the chaos of the Stuarts, the Hanoverians beckoned to power and plenty. It was the age of Beef and Liberty. Of Whigs and Tories debating the fate of an Empire and championing the causes of freedom in the Mother of Parliaments, with brave heroes sacrificed on the battlefields of Blenheim and Waterloo. In this story, Europe is only ever something to be freed from and fought against. But there is another side to this tale, one where Europeans were our neighbours and allies, whose presence helped make Britain’s fortunes. In an era of burgeoning globalisation, London began to be a hot-bed of ambitious and talented European immigrants.

As a state, Britain is only 69 years older than the USA, with uncertain beginnings. The union of Scotland and England in 1707 was risky, both nations reluctant to overlook histories of bitter and near-constant war. Old habits died hard. Scotsmen who fought for Britain in the Seven Years War could return to London and face a mob pelting them with apples and shouting at them to go home. By 1760, Scotland had rebelled against Hanoverian rule three times, Jacobite troops marching to within 100 miles of London in 1746. In England, the word English was the preferred term for those in the British Isles, British used with relative rarity. Newspapers were flooded with articles arguing against or justifying for the continued national prejudices on both sides of the Tweed. The Union was a fragile fledgling, with no basis in culture or society. What on earth was “British”?

The answer, all too often, was “whatever we aren’t”. English and Scots bonded over the battlefield when fighting against the French and Spanish. Britain was so often at war with France that the years between 1688 to 1815 are termed “The Second Hundred Years War” by some academics.

This was a fight for British resources and prestige which fired the patriotic imagination.

Britons started singing in this period about ruling the waves and never being slaves, confident of always beating their opponents. The earthy John Bull emerged in cartoons, proudly championing the strength of English liberties against archetypes of drunk Dutchmen, Italian sodomites or effeminate Frenchmen. The polymath Lord Chesterfield once stated with concern that “a common prejudice in this country” was that one Englishman could beat three Frenchmen in a fight, simply by virtue of being of the right nationality.

Catholics too faced anger and outrage, outsiders in a Protestant nation. Some areas of London were burned by a mob in 1780 when the government suggested lifting bans that restricted Catholic presence in public life.

Despite this, Britain started to depend on Europeans in the 18th century. This went beyond simply having a German head of state. The spoils of the Seven Years War meant Britain’s Empire expanded so quickly the British Isles ran out of people to fill it. Europeans willing to swear allegiance were drafted in to do the job for them. French Huguenots settled in Quebec and Granada, along with families from Germany. The British army grew to include troops from the German state of Hanover. Some became extraordinarily successful: the Swiss mercenary Frederick Haldimand became Governor of Quebec, guarding the province during the American Wars of Independence. He received a knighthood for his trouble.

Europeans were at the fringes of Empire, but also at the heart of the new nation. The Chinese diaspora began to be established in this period. There was also a community of some 3,000 black men and women living in the capital, mainly filling the role of servants-cum-fashion statements. Reynolds had a black manservant, as did Dr Johnson.

Continental influence was there too. A man was not considered sophisticated if he had not taken a Grand Tour through France and Italy. Italian opera was high culture, German musicians the finest to be had and the French language á la mode.

Demand spawned supply. Musicians, painters, singers, dancers, sculptors and language tutors all braved the hair-raising storms and rough seas of the Channel in pursuit of what they thought would be lucrative profits. Mozart was among them, along with Haydn, Casanova (intent on mischief) and Jean-Paul Marat. Originally brought to London as a prisoner of war in 1758, Frenchman Dominic Serres made a living by painting British naval victories against his own countrymen, even becoming “Marine Painter to George III”.

Britain not only traded in culture. Goods flooded in from all across the empire, some flowing straight back out again to Europe. A country that intends to trade will not get far if it does not have permanent immigration – how else can merchants foster the contacts necessary for bartering across borders? The industrialist Matthew Boulton was still minting French coins for Parisian bankers three years into the French Revolution.

London harboured communities of traders from across the continent. They looked after their own. New arrivals were at risk of being swindled or abducted, their ignorance taken advantage of as soon as they stepped off their ships at London’s crime-filled dockyards, adjacent to the Tower of London. Members of the German community watched out for ships from their homeland, guiding their countrymen to safety. The musician Georg Griesbach recalled being whisked off to a tavern, “where the Hamburg ships’ captains dine”, run by a landlord “named Werner”, introduced to men whom he could call on for help and company in a strange new capital, as any lone backpacker still does when they arrive at a youth hostel.

As to who “Werner” was, or the Germans who toasted each other in his tavern, we have no idea. There are traces and fragments – the Dutch Inventor Anton Georg Eckhardt had some of his patents for cannon and navigation adopted by the British Navy, and was praised in one letter by Matthew Boulton as a man of “superior skill and genius” working “for the sake of our country”. But hardly anything else is left of him. Reynolds’ Italian assistant, Giuseppe Marchi, is permanently in Reynolds’s shadow, despite the two working together for 40 years. Much research still needs to be done.

Often the only way to know about these foreigners is through the people at the surface, the ones who made it through the numerous filters that govern fame. These were the people who were considered a credit to British prestige. The German painter Angelica Kauffman was a national treasure, so much so that she was invited to paint murals in St. Paul’s cathedral. The Italian engraver Francesco Bartolozzi was offered £400 a year by the government if he refused a tempting job offer in Portugal. The Hanoverian William Herschel discovered Uranus, the first new planet since the invention of astrology, naming this planet “the Georgian Star” in honour of Britain’s sovereign.

Some foreigners in London delivered information and transferred skills on a variety of subjects. When the Royal Academy was founded in 1768, 25% of its founding members were Italian, French and German. The Academy hoped to transfer these skills to British students, levelling the playing-field for Britain to compete on the international stage.

At the same time, Europe wanted to know about Britain. It had things they desperately wanted. A German count living in Mayfair set up a meeting between one of the members of the Board of Longitude and a Parisian watchmaker, passing on details of John Harrison’s famous H4 watch. Herschel’s remarkably powerful telescopes were shipped to astronomers across Europe via acquaintances residing in London. A Portuguese scientist smuggled one of Boulton and Watt’s steam-powered looms to France, angry that the government of “this jealous country” had imposed a ban on doing so.

Some adopted Britain as their homeland. The Italian scientist Tiberio Cavallo, of 57 Wells Street, Fitzrovia, kept a notebook of genteel English phrases (“it was pouring with rain”, “they are dying to see him”, etc.), so as to completely assimilate into London society. These were the days before passports and visas. If a foreigner wanted to become a naturalised subject of the King, a specific act of parliament had to be passed for that individual, both costly and time-consuming. Some registered simply to ensure their property could be inherited by their descendants. But assimilation could be total – William Herschel insisted European correspondents write to him in English, despite his being fluent in French and German, fondly describing the advantages of “old England” compared to his native Germany.

Some found the British irritating. They could be conceited, rude and gruff. Botanist Daniel Solander wrote to a Swedish colleague: “The English people are generally polite to foreigners, if only you flatter them and tell them that everything you have seen in England is better than anything you have seen before”. Once again, old habits die hard.

It wasn’t all bad. For the ones who chose to settle, Britain could be more than just a place to pursue profit. Thanks to the writings of Voltaire, and the international renown of Newton, Hobbes and Locke, England had a reputation as a land of liberty. The German naturalist Johann Reinhold Forster told a colleague back in Gottingen that “I went to the land of freedom, where work is rewarded”. For some, Britain was a place where the unorthodox individual “could breathe quietly, and without political fear”. In an encounter with the Austrian Emperor, painter Johann Zoffany stated that he was English, “for in that country I received protection and encouragement”.

What was it like being a foreigner in London? Some preferred to stay in contact with their homeland. Diasporas gathered around fixed points – a building, urban area or social clique. Italians were invited to dine with General Paoli, a Corsican freedom-fighter exiled to London. The Swedish Church in Prince’s Square was an opportunity for Swedes to meet every Sunday. Great Titchfield Street in Fitzrovia harboured groups of artists of French and Italian origin. Neighbours helped each other gain employment, and banded together in times of trouble. The memoirs of Jean François Rigaud details how doors were marked for plunder during the Gordon Riots of 1780, and how he and neighbours co-ordinated washing these marks off in the dead of night.

The Gordon Riots were an extreme and isolated example, anti-establishment as much as anti-Catholic. Catholics and Italians faced more difficulties assimilating than most, but the endless variety of London meant if you were excluded by one social circle, there was always another in which you would be welcomed. Tiberio Cavallo was denied membership of the British Museum for being of the papist faith. But that didn’t stop him gaining a reputation as a socialite, befriending men and women both foreign and native, inviting them to dine at his house in Fitzrovia and regularly taking them to meetings of the Royal Society as his guest. Cavallo managed to live comfortably in the capital for well over forty years. Despite an official line of hostility to his kind, there was always a world elsewhere.

Intermingling with Britons seems to be the rule rather than the exception. Pastors in every one of the eight German churches of London complained of poor attendance, and were amazed at the speed with which members of their congregation diffused into English society. Many intermarried. The nuptials of socialite Hester Thrale and her singing teacher, Gabriele Piozzi, caused a scandal. Yet Thrale sacrificed her social life for true love, married in two weddings, one Catholic, the other Anglican, in July 1784.

Amid the present wrangling over Britain’s place in Europe, it is worth remembering that European immigration and co-operation were abundant while modern Britain was being forged. Arguably it was one of the country’s greater successes, a nation that was open to an outside world of trade, culture and competition.

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