God’s Forgotten Garden: The Role of Missionary Botany in Sino-European Exchanges

Abstract

This study explores how European botanical science, introduced by foreign missionaries, transformed the intellectual and environmental landscape of premodern China. By examining the transnational exchange of scientific ideas, the paper highlights the role of missionaries, particularly Jesuits and Protestants, in promoting Western botany within a highly sophisticated Chinese intellectual framework. Despite cultural barriers, missionaries sought to integrate a Christian understanding of nature into Chinese episteme, using botanical studies as a conduit for proselytization. The research focuses on key historical moments, including the Treaty of Nanking, which opened China to Western religious and scientific influences. Findings show that missionaries’ botanical studies, driven by both religious and scientific interests, contributed to cross-cultural intellectual collaboration, leading to ideological–environmental changes. The research reveals that botanical exchange was not limited to science but also intertwined with political, economic, and religious interests. Furthermore, the introduction of experimental science reshaped Chinese approaches to nature, blending European and Chinese intellect systems. Ultimately, this paper argues that foreign missionaries played a crucial role in shaping both modern Chinese botany and global episteme, illustrating how scientific ideas transcended cultural boundaries to create lasting environmental impacts.

1. Introduction

In 18th-century Europe, botany gradually established itself as an independent scientific discipline. The growing number of botanical publications and the construction of royal gardens and botanical labs in academic institutions reflected how this new field became a cornerstone of post-Renaissance knowledge. In 1751, Louis Carl Linnaeus’ Philosophia Botanica detailed the importance of royal and academic botanical gardens for research, listing institutions such as Padua (1540), Pisa (1547), Bologna (1547), and Oxford (1683), among others (Linnaeus 2005, p. 19). The design of these European post-Renaissance gardens featured unprecedented patterns of water chains, geometric configurations, and symmetrical allotments. These elements were influenced by Muslim empires, where the fusion of religious and secular powers in garden designs was historically significant (Golombek 2008).

The interplay between political power and religion re-emerged in post-Renaissance Europe. Humanist intellectuals, rather than the Papacy, led Christian high culture and created “a limited space of unlimited human activities” (Wang 2018, p. 102). The humanists criticized medieval culture, accusing it of superstition, while promoting experimental knowledge grounded in science. Alexandre Koyré claimed that the seventeenth century marked a tipping point from a focus on “medieval and ancient man [who] aimed at the pure contemplation of nature and of being” to “the modern one [who] wants domination and mastery.” (Koyré 1957, p. 1). Yet, these new authorities—science and anti-monarchism—did not entirely disrupt the established order. Botanical research still primarily served practical purposes, such as medicine, rather than challenging the theological understanding of nature in Christendom (Tyson 2022, pp. 1–17).

At the same time, an evolution in botany and garden design was taking place in China. In Beijing, the Qianlong Emperor (1735–1795) embarked on an ambitious project to construct the “heavenly garden”, with the assistance of Jesuit missionaries. The Jesuits left their mark across the city, building structures like the Xiyang Lou (“Western Mansions”), Nantang (“South Church”), Beitang (“North Church”), and Dongtang (“East Church”) (Wang 2018, pp. 102–3). In particular, the Beitang, where French Jesuits resided, showcased European ornaments and corpulent flowers. Over 160 years from 1580 to 1800, prominent missionaries such as Matteo Ricci (1552–1610), Johann Adam Schall von Bell (1592–1666), and Tomás Pereira (1645–1708) helped establish the Jesuit presence in Beijing, supported by transnational patronages, including the Portuguese kings Philip II and III and the French king Louis XIV (Wang 2018, pp. 105–7). From 1580 till 1630, the Jesuits were a dominant presence, while Dominicans and Franciscans joined later under the Spanish Patronato. As the late seventeenth century approached, the implementation of the Propaganda Fide accelerated the diversification of missionaries from various orders (Standaert 2019, pp. 286–300).

Based on these political–religious patronages, the Jesuits were able to incorporate gardens into their complexes, which included both residences and church buildings, such as the Bei Tang church. This integration reflects their dual role as spiritual and cultural intermediaries. Furthermore, the Qianlong Emperor commissioned the Jesuits to contribute to the expansion plans for the Yuanming Yuan, or “Garden of Perfect Brightness”. Among the Jesuit team, Pierre Nicolas d’Incarville (Tang Zhizhong 湯執中, 1706–1757), a French botanist–missionary, played a pivotal role in orchestrating the botanical landscaping of the garden (Rinaldi 2011, pp. 137–39). His expertise in European horticulture significantly influenced the development of this imperial project, blending Chinese and European gardening traditions into a transcultural masterpiece.

The collaboration between imperial patronages and Jesuit expansionism in the Qing imperial garden is particularly intriguing. Both the European powers and the Manchurian rulers of Qing China sought legitimacy through the exotic plants and ornaments in their gardens, which served as symbols of both political and religious authority. For the Qing dynasty, in contrast to the culturally rooted Ming, the imperial garden played a key role in demonstrating their right to rule. The message embedded in the garden was clear: the imperial power in Beijing was justified in its dominion over the world. The tradition of imperial gardening began during Emperor Qin Shihuangdi’s reign (r. 221–214 B.C.) as an exhibition of imperial power, buttressed by religious and ritualistic symbols (Siu 2013, pp. xxiii–xxv). However, while the garden at the capital provides some insight, it is insufficient to fully capture the impact of foreign missionaries on China’s environment through their botanical investigations. A broader study of the global connections and interdependencies among various players during the Ming–Qing transition is necessary to understand their full influence.

This paper examines the botanical studies conducted by foreign missionaries in China, focusing on their transnational impacts and their role in reshaping Chinese and European understandings of nature. It argues that these botanical investigations were not merely scientific endeavors but also deeply entangled with political, religious, and cultural dynamics. Specifically, this paper scrutinizes three inter-related aspects of missionary botanical studies: First, it explores how missionary–botanists’ preconceptions of nature and the environment were shaped by their training in European epistemology and a phyto-theological framework. This intellectual lens informed their understanding of plants and their broader relationship to creation. Second, it analyzes the epistemological encounters and tensions between this framework and indigenous Chinese environmental metaphysics. These encounters often led to a restructuring of botanical knowledge, reflecting both the adaptability and limitations of European science in the Chinese context. Finally, the paper considers the broader social, environmental, and political consequences of these botanical studies, particularly their influence on global markets, colonial economies, and the reorganization of knowledge during the premodern–modern transition.

By synthesizing diverse sources and historiographical perspectives, this paper offers an integrative analysis of missionary botanical studies as a locus of cross-cultural interaction and intellectual transformation. It highlights how these studies contributed to the redefinition of nature in both Chinese and European epistemologies, underscoring their enduring impact on global scientific and cultural landscapes.

2. Historiographical Considerations

Encounters between different cultures often lead to unexpected exchanges—not only in the realms of economics, politics, and diplomacy but also in intellectual and hypothetical advancements. To reassess the complex role of missionaries, it is essential to consider the diverse scholarly perspectives on cultural interconnections and their societal impact. Prasenjit Duara offers a versatile framework for understanding intercultural confrontations. He argues that historical circulation is an inevitable outcome of cultural collisions, but this circulation frequently produces pivotal moments. As Duara explains, “transcendent movements are also historically prone to become congealed or institutionalized in orthodoxy or high Culture… until challenged once again, often from the locus of transcendence” (Duara 2014, p. 7). The tension between cultures creates catalytic moments, as these circulatory and transcendent models in religious movements occasionally demand the disciplining of “unruly and disruptive forces” (Duara 2014, p. 7). This dialogical transcendence illustrates how cultural interactions can yield positive outcomes, though it also anticipates the emergence of cultural hierarchies.

Hierarchy in culture manifests in diverse forms across East Asia, reflecting the unique characteristics of each region. Jason Josephson highlights the negative aspects of transcultural encounters, particularly disagreements over religious terminology. He argues that the concept of religion in Japan was gradually constructed through historical exchange, a process he terms “hierarchical inclusion”. This process suggests that when indigenous cultures adopt foreign concepts, the dominant culture often assumes a superior position within the symbolic structure (Josephson 2012, pp. 58–64).

In contrast, Chinese elites and their epistemology confronted Western philosophy and medieval theology through interactions with Jesuit interlocutors, who deliberately accommodated Christian jargon to align with Chinese canonical terms. This strategy extended the scope of key terminologies such as God, Religion, and the Golden Rule (Cheng 2014, pp. 11–15). For instance, Tan Jie demonstrates that the Chinese translation of “religio” as qin chong exemplifies an integrative approach. Jesuit missionaries like Matteo Ricci strategically selected qin chong, a term rooted in classical Chinese thought, to express Christian reverence while harmonizing with Confucian ideals of “respect and loyalty.” Unlike Japan, this translation avoided imposing foreign frameworks, embedding Christian ideas within China’s existing cultural and philosophical systems (Tan 2018).

Moreover, qin chong preserved flexibility, allowing the concept to extend beyond the Christian God to figures like saints and angels. This inclusivity aligned with China’s polytheistic traditions, creating space for dialogue rather than cultural dominance. By integrating religio with qin chong, Jesuits facilitated mutual understanding without undermining Chinese cultural identity. While Josephson critiques Japan’s hierarchical approach as a means of cultural control, the Chinese case demonstrates the potential of translation to foster mutual adaptation. The choice of qin chong reflects a deliberate effort to harmonize foreign and local concepts, contrasting sharply with the exclusivity of Shūkyō. These differing models underscore how translation can either entrench hierarchies or enable genuine intercultural exchange.

Lydia H. Liu brings another perspective on intercultural clashes, emphasizing that “civilizations do not clash, but empires do” (Liu 2004, p. 2). According to Liu, intellectual contests cannot be separated from political, social, and economic domains. This expansive understanding of global interactions suggests that they must encompass the enterprises of multiple protagonists. Joachim Radkau supports this view, focusing on the environmental impact of European conquests and the circulation of scientific knowledge. He argues that the introduction of European species into colonies, and vice versa, created practical environmental knowledge (Radkau 2008, p. 164). Figures like Alexander von Humboldt and Charles Darwin—though critical of slavery and colonial exploitation—could not have conducted their travels without the infrastructure of colonialism. Their “holistic vision of nature, of the limitless interdependencies of man, animals, and vegetation… becomes a passion and the driving force behind an impetuous curiosity” (Radkau 2008, p. 167).

Denise Phillips and Sharon Kingsland provide insight into why it is difficult to trace the emergence of new scientific disciplines. They note that “historians of biology have devoted most of their attention to academic biology and have continued to neglect the agricultural context. Historians of agriculture, on the other hand, concentrate on social and economic history, neglecting the science” (Phillips and Kingsland 2015, pp. 1–2). Thus, to understand the development of botanical study in China, one must consider the intersections between European and Chinese epistemologies as well as the political and economic exchanges that shaped these developments. Richard Grove’s concept of “green imperialism” is particularly useful for analyzing the intersection of environmental politics and science (Grove 1995, pp. 164–66).

The trajectory of botanical studies in China mirrored broader patterns of cultural negotiation and competition. Benoît Vermander highlights the nuanced differences and comparable elements between Chinese and Western intellectual traditions. He notes that Western thought is grounded in “ontology”, which prioritizes fixed categories and hierarchies, while Chinese thought emphasizes “correlative thinking”, a framework that stresses the fluidity and interconnectedness of phenomena across cosmic and social realms (Vermander 2023, pp. 3–15). As a result, Western frameworks often subordinate relationships and processes, whereas ancient Chinese philosophers foreground dynamic patterns and relationships.

Western botanical studies in China advanced through collaborations among missionaries, scientists, and indigenous medics. He Zhang argues that “traditional botany in ancient China mainly included agriculture and medicine. In contrast, botany in the broader modern sense was introduced from the West and established in China gradually” (Zhang 2018, p. 511). This gradual integration of Chinese and Western traditions facilitated the development of modern botanical studies in China. Beyond the study of plants and flowers, botanical science incorporates systems of classification, categorization, and cultural reflection. This distinguishes it from horticultural investigations, which prioritize practical applications of nature.

Building on these theoretical frameworks, this paper views the garden as not only a space of botanical study but also as an embodiment of political, religious, and cultural power. Michel Foucault’s analysis of power structures reveals how power is often represented in modern institutions such as schools, hospitals, and prisons (Foucault 1977). Power, in this view, becomes embodied and transitions into material culture. David Morgan extends this analysis to religion by emphasizing the role of material culture in religious practice. As he states, “materiality mediates belief; material objects and practices both enable and enact it. Handling objects, dressing in a particular way, buying, displaying… attending certain events are all activities… forms of sacred imagination that structure their relations to the divine” (Morgan 2010, p. 12). Given that botany emerged as a hybrid theology between science and Christianity, gardens should be understood as both religious and political spaces that publicly exhibit power.

3. European Botanical Studies: From Classification to Cultural Exchange

In The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences, Michel Foucault explores the concept of the episteme, which refers to a common intellectual framework or consensus that governs the production of knowledge. Foucault explains that the episteme is “envisaged apart from all criteria having reference to its rational value or to its objective forms, grounds its positivity and thereby manifests a history which is not that of its growing perfection, but rather that of its conditions of possibility” (Foucault 2002, p. xxiii). Within this space of knowledge, all forms of empirical science emerge and evolve. Foucault particularly examines how European epistemology transformed during moments of epistemological discontinuity, such as the Renaissance. During this period, figures like Adam Smith and Jean-Jacques Rousseau incorporated linguistic taxonomy and botanical classifications into their intellectual projects (Foucault 2002, pp. 82–84). Botanical studies were just one of the fields contributing to this intellectual expansion, alongside zoology and other classification systems. These convergences gave rise to what became known as “natural history” (Foucault 2002, pp. 139–44).

Several key works advanced botanical science during the Renaissance. These include Joseph Pitton de Tournefort’s Eléments de botanique (1694), Carl Linnaeus’ Philosophia Botanica (1751), and Michel Adanson’s Histoire naturelle du Sénégal (1757). Tournefort introduced the concept of the genus, identifying commonalities among plants while setting aside their differences. He argued that the genus could be identified through the inspection of the flower, explaining that “for having once discovered the Genus of each species by the sole inspection of the Flower, in any season of the year, the same species are easily distinguished… this or the other form belong only to a plant that bears a flower and fruit of a peculiar determined structure” (Tournefort 1719, 1:2). In his system, other characteristics were secondary, and differences were often overlooked to maintain a structured categorization. Similarly, Adanson posited that objects or facts should be grouped together according to established conventions or resemblances (Foucault 2002, p. 156). If a plant could not fit into a pre-existing category, it would be excluded from the classification structure. This approach, based on similarity and exclusion, became a dominant model in scientific experiments of the time.

Linnaeus’ Philosophia Botanica further articulated the importance of understanding “natural orders” as a means of revealing universal truths. He argued that every individual should know the classes, genera, and species, stating “all substantial education in science, trade, and medicine, indeed all true human knowledge relies on a knowledge of the several species” (Linnaeus 2005, p. 219). Linnaeus’ work exemplified the Enlightenment aspiration to uncover universal laws and order in the world through botanical study. However, his framework also revealed a Eurocentric bias, as he declared that “generic names that do not have a root derived from Greek or Latin are to be rejected” (Linnaeus 2005, p. 175). Linnaeus insisted that botanical research follow rigid guidelines, including the exclusive use of Latin or Greek for scientific nomenclature. Naming and classifying plants, in this view, was the prerogative of those with mastery of these classical languages, reinforcing a hierarchical structure in scientific knowledge.

The act of naming and categorizing plants reflects broader patterns of human dominance over nature. In the Bible’s Book of Genesis, Adam’s first task is to name and order the creatures of the earth, securing distinctions between himself and the rest of creation, including his wife, Eve. As Genesis 2 describes, “the Lord God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name” (Bible Gateway n.d., Genesis 2:19). This task of naming bestowed a unique form of power from the outset. European intellectuals’ drive to uncover natural laws can be understood as rooted in these implicit religious impulses within Christianity.

A notable feature of the phyto-theological framework is that the task of naming and ordering is traditionally designated to men. However, this assumption overlooks the active participation of women in gardening and botanical work. It is erroneous to presume that men dominated botanical exercises solely for intellectual growth. In fact, as Radkau argues, “the age-old tradition of gardening is one of the strongest arguments that humanity must have possessed a good deal of practical knowledge about ecological interrelationships since ancient time” (Radkau 2008, p. 57). The practice of gardening and botany, historically, were also expressions of self-autonomy and womanhood, especially in patriarchal societies (Swinbank 2021). However, these traditions of female involvement in botanical studies were not carried over to China due to the dominance of Jesuit influence in the region.

The development of natural history and botanical studies mirrors the broader socio-intellectual transformations in Europe during the early modern period. Amid political turbulence, European reformists such as Voltaire, Montesquieu, and Leibniz idealized aspects of Chinese law and political philosophy, seeing them as potential solutions to Europe’s own challenges. This intellectual engagement, often termed ‘Sinomania’, marked an era of fascination with Chinese wisdom during the 18th century. However, by the 19th century, shifts in geopolitical power and cultural attitudes contributed to a growing skepticism, often labeled ‘Sinophobia.’ This transformation highlights the complex interplay of admiration and appropriation that shaped European engagement with China. Consequently, the development of Sinology in Europe cannot be disentangled from accusations of pragmatic exploitation, as much of the Orient’s wisdom was filtered and romanticized through missionary intermediaries (Cheng 2014, pp. 16–28).

4. Premodern Botanical Studies and Gardens in China

Robert Weller explains that gardening in China was often regarded as the work of peasants or rooted in their nostalgia for the land (Weller 2006, pp. 57–58). However, this nostalgic pastoralism disappeared with the rise of imperial gardening. Various factors explain why gardens became central to imperial governance. Robert Marks notes that Chinese gardens from the Tang era were “importations and re-creations of ‘nature.’ The wealthy created gardens in their mansions, with ponds stocked with carp, flocks of ducks and geese, and parrots and singing birds in the trees” (Marks 2012, p. 164). This passion for lost nature led Manchu elites to replicate pristine wilderness in their imperial gardens, though these spaces also served broader political purposes.

Marks highlights how imperial gardens connected people with nature and alleviated psychological stress caused by separation from their devastated homelands (Marks 2012, pp. 163–65). Urbanization, as Marks notes, created a physical separation from nature, leading to the rise of these “built environments” like Chang’an, which were insufficient to represent true nature but functioned as projections of an imagined origin (Marks 2012, p. 163). While the gardens of late imperial China were ostensibly for amusement, they also fulfilled psychological and philosophical roles. Similarly, as Laura Hostetler argues, Qing representations of space—whether through cartography, ethnography, or garden design—served to visualize and reinforce imperial authority. The Yuanming Yuan’s integration of diverse cultural elements, including Jesuit contributions to its botanical and architectural features, exemplifies this transcultural synthesis and spatial articulation of Qing power.

Victoria M. Cha-Tsu Siu examines the dual meanings of the Qianlong-era imperial garden. On one level, these gardens reflected imperial power and political philosophy. The architecture and design of the gardens symbolized the emperor’s authority, illustrating how Qianlong’s world was recreated in the imperial spaces: “They suggest a whole set of concepts—religious, philosophical, political, artistic, and popular—represented in his gardens” (Siu 2013, p. xxi). In short, the gardens were extensions of the emperor’s power, embodied through his presence and activities there. By incorporating religious rituals and multi-cultural ornaments, Qianlong showcased his control over the various ethnic groups and territories of the empire (Siu 2013, p. xxvi). His performance of religious rituals in the Garden of Perfect Brightness, particularly in 1756, symbolically embraced groups like Tibetans and Mongolians, integrating them into a spiritual family (Siu 2013, p. xxvii). Thus, the transcultural nature of the imperial garden demonstrated not only unparalleled political authority but also a spatial visualization of consolidated power.

Premodern Chinese gardens were more than spaces for leisure; they also had political, medical, and philosophical significance. The investigation of nature was pragmatic, with Confucian scholars developing a moral ecology that prioritized human interests and ethical edification. Even ecological morality was practical, with nature serving as a subject for ethical elevation. Premodern botany focused on finding medicinal plants, and this practical research led to the creation of taxonomies through categorization and classification. The imperial gardens of the Qing dynasty connected displaced elites with an imitation of nature, representing a lost connection to their homeland in Manchuria. Rather than striving for untouched wilderness, these gardens became public symbols of the emperor’s power and the diversity of his empire. They were not simply representations of Manchuria, but replicas of a multi-ethnic empire.

In parallel, ecological and cosmological views of botany were prevalent in the premodern era. Chen Xia and Peng Guoxiang encapsulate Wang Yangming’s empathy toward nature, quoting “When you see plants broken and destroyed, you cannot help feeling pity. The moment that you began to feel pity in your heart shows that your humanity forms one body with the battered and destroyed plants” (Chen et al. 2014, pp. 76–77). This emotional reflection on the botanical world was rare in Chinese thought but reflected a moral consciousness that extended beyond humans to include animals and plants. This unique perception of nature stimulated sympathy for living beings, elevating ethical sentiment. The contrast between this ethical centrism in China and the anthropocentric approach in Europe, which often justified human conquests, is striking.

Unlike Confucian cosmology, which emphasized harmony, Chinese gardening also developed as a form of aesthetic and philosophical representation of nature. Confucian philosopher Tu Weiming articulated an anthropocosmic understanding of nature, as summarized by Robert P. Weller: “It is a fundamentally humanist view, comfortable with human use of the natural world and its energies, but one whose ultimate concerns are the establishment of a mutual relationship between humanity and the cosmic order of heaven” (Weller 2006, p. 23). Gardening became an essential aspect of elite life in Qing China, as these gardens allowed urban dwellers to connect with qi, or natural energy. Weller notes that many Qing gardens sought to recreate the landscapes where Daoist immortals might reside. Larger gardens featured man-made miniature mountains, called “false mountains”, that were still large enough to walk upon (Weller 2006, p. 38).

Chinese premodern intellectualism engaged deeply in ethical and metaphysical contemplations. Joseph Needham’s Science and Civilisation in China, Volume VII, Part 2, compares the classification systems of China and Europe. The main distinction between the two lies in their epistemological categories. Liu Wen-Thai’s General History of Plants classified plants into 24 categories, while John Gerard (1545–1612) used only 6 qualitative classes. Chinese natural science demonstrated greater complexity, categorizing plants according to their functions and medicinal uses. Needham highlights this difference, noting that Chinese works separated the description of the plants’ appearance from their medical properties (Needham 2004, 7.2:143).

The latter part of this discussion will examine how Chinese premodern botany encountered European science, and it will introduce the British missionaries’ botanical studies, which played a key role in the modern development of botanical science in China.

5. From Jesuit Gardens to Protestant Texts: The Cross-Cultural Impacts

This section explores the evolution of missionary botanical studies in China across centuries, analyzing the distinct approaches of Catholic and Protestant missionaries and their combined impact on Chinese and European epistemologies. The Jesuit missions of the 16th and 17th centuries laid an early foundation for cross-cultural botanical exchanges, integrating phyto-theological perspectives with imperial patronage. The 19th century saw a transformation, with Protestant missionaries adopting a more institutionalized approach, emphasizing translation and publication to disseminate Western botanical knowledge. These efforts collectively reshaped Chinese perceptions of plants and botany while introducing epistemological shifts in European botanical practices, revealing the dynamic interplay of cultural, scientific, and colonial forces.

Edward Said’s critique of imperialism, describing it as “the idea that is based on the power to take over territory… and the practice that essentially disguises or obscures this by developing a justificatory regime of self-aggrandizing, self-originating authority” (Said 1994, p. 69), aptly contextualizes the Jesuit role in China. Jesuits were cultural intermediaries who negotiated between European imperial powers and local Chinese systems, embedding botanical studies within broader scientific, economic, and religious frameworks. Jesuit efforts in the 16th and 17th centuries reflected their dual role as scientists and religious agents. Nils Güttler notes that “mapping as a practice itself came out of a milieu of knowledge production that was mainly driven by applied and economic interest in plant distribution” (Güttler 2015, p. 30). Figures like Pierre Nicolas Le Chéron d’Incarville exemplified this dynamic. D’Incarville contributed to the introduction of valuable plant species to European gardens such as the Jardin des Plantes in Paris while also facilitating botanical exchanges by presenting seeds and plants to the Qing imperial court. His work highlights the interconnected roles of Jesuit missionaries as both contributors to science and cultural intermediaries (Wang 2018, pp. 110–11).

Moreover, Jesuits such as Joachim Bouvet and Jean-François Gerbillon were instrumental in fostering cross-cultural exchanges. They served as Emperor Kangxi’s mathematics tutors and were granted land within the Imperial Palace to construct the Beitang Church, symbolizing their integration into elite Chinese circles (Standaert 2019, pp. 313–16). These interactions extended beyond botany, influencing architectural designs in both Versailles and the Qing Imperial Garden. However, Jesuit missions faced significant challenges, including their dissolution in 1774 by Pope Clement XIV and diminishing support from European monarchs (Shore 2020, pp. 49–54). Ironically, this severance accelerated Jesuit missions in Russia, China, and Latin America, as they sought new sponsors (Shore 2020, pp. 49–54). As the Qing emperors struggled to assert legitimate sovereignty, the Jesuits increasingly focused on their role as intermediaries for Western science and technology. While the Jesuits saw science as a steppingstone for proselytization, Chinese officials regarded them primarily as useful technicians (Spence 2002, pp. 5–20).

By the 19th century, the practice of botanical study in China became increasingly tied to government-sponsored cultural exchanges rather than solely missionary-driven initiatives. However, the support from European royals or Chinese emperors often threatened missionaries’ works, as patronage could be withdrawn or redirected. Nicholas Menzies highlights the challenging environment early botanists faced: “Botany developed in China during a century of insecurity, wars and warlords, natural disasters, and more. Pressure from Western incursions, the Taiping Rebellion (1850–1864), the contested legitimacy of the Manchu empire, and the 1911 Revolution all marked this time of transformation in China’s political structures, economy, and ethical order” (Menzies 2021, pp. 27–28).

A pivotal moment was the Treaty of Nanking in 1842, which officially sanctioned religious propagation and allowed foreigners to reside in China. This opened access to previously restricted regions, such as western and central China, enabling Catholic and Protestant missionaries from Europe and North America to conduct extensive botanical research. As Fa-Ti Fan yet notes, “the achievements of several French missionaries in China during this period attracted the full attention of the scientific communities in Europe. No Protestant missionary accomplished half as much as they did” (Fan 2004, p. 80).

Jane Kilpatrick documents this surge in missionary activity, providing an extensive list of key figures such as Père Emile Bodinier (1842–1901), Père Pierre Cavalerie (1869–1927), Père Armand David (1826–1900), and Père Jean Marie Delavay (1834–1895), among others. These missionaries lived isolated lives in China’s rural heartlands, where they gathered extensive botanical samples, contributing significantly to the scientific understanding of China’s biodiversity (Kilpatrick 2015, p. viii). Following the example of earlier missionaries like Pierre Nicolas Le Chéron d’Incarville, these botanists worked both to document China’s flora and to facilitate the exchange of plants between Paris and Beijing (Wang 2018, pp. 110–11). Kilpatrick particularly credits French Catholic missionaries as pioneers in botany, even more so than professional plant hunters. She argues that these priests were the first Westerners to explore China’s richest botanical regions and discover new species. However, their reluctance to publish their findings in academic journals or periodicals often hindered their recognition in the history of botanical studies. Père Armand David exemplifies this dual role: while he is celebrated for discovering the giant panda and Père David’s deer, many plants he documented are now extinct, making his records invaluable for understanding China’s lost biodiversity (Kilpatrick 2015, pp. 1–3). Austrian botanist Heinrich Handel-Mazzetti commends the Catholic missionaries’ dedication, stating “It was most pleasing to find that many of the Catholic missionaries busied themselves in collecting material for the advancement of science. In so doing they were certainly not motivated by any desire to supplement their meager stipends, but by genuine enthusiasm” (Handel-Mazzetti 1996, p. 94).

In contrast, Protestant missionaries, particularly from the United Kingdom, were prolific in publishing their botanical findings. Zhang attributes the beginning of modern botanical study in China to the London Missionary Society’s 1858 publication of Chih-wu hsüeh (Botany), translated by Protestant missionaries Alexander Williamson and Joseph Edkins. This publication introduced the term botanical study (zhí wù xué) into Chinese scientific vocabulary (Zhang 2018, p. 511). As Menzies and Zhang note, Chih-wu hsüeh was adapted from four English sources, including John Lindley’s Elements of Botany (1847) and John H. Balfour’s Phyto-Theology (1851), reflecting a theological perspective on the natural world.

Protestant missionaries viewed botanical studies as a means to advance Christian apologetics by integrating science with faith. Balfour, for example, described botany as illustrating “the works of God” and emphasized the importance of studying science “in a Bible spirit” (Balfour 1851, p. v). This ideological approach paralleled earlier Jesuit strategies, such as Matteo Ricci’s efforts during the Ming Dynasty, where science was used as a tool for proselytization (Wright 1998).

The influx of European botanical texts and missionaries introduced new taxonomies and methods that reshaped traditional Chinese understandings of plants. Before this period, Chinese botanical knowledge was largely confined to practical fields like agriculture and medicine, exemplified by Li Shizhen’s Bencao Gangmu (1518–1593). This encyclopedic work consolidated vast empirical knowledge, yet it focused on the medicinal uses of plants rather than their classification (Nappi 2009, p. 6). Jakobina Arch explains that while Bencao Gangmu was part of a long tradition of materia medica, it marked a shift by incorporating natural history into its framework (Arch 2015, p. 98).

European missionaries introduced systematic taxonomies that sought to replace or augment traditional frameworks. Protestant translators like Williamson and Edkins played a crucial role in this epistemological shift by transliterating scientific jargon, such as tissues (ju bao ti, 聚胞体) and experimental methods (cha-li zhi fa, 察理之法), into Chinese (Zhang 2018, p. 511). These translations, however, were not ideologically neutral; they reflected a worldview that aligned science with Christian theology.

Missionaries also transformed the material landscape of Chinese botany. Catholic priests, for example, hybridized indigenous plants and introduced European species into local environments, leaving a lasting imprint on China’s agricultural and horticultural practices (Menzies 2021, pp. 27–28). These changes were mirrored in Europe, where Jesuit contributions enriched botanical gardens and scientific collections. The exchange of seeds and plants between China and Europe reshaped both regions’ understanding of biodiversity, with elements of Beijing’s imperial gardens inspiring designs in Paris and beyond (Wang 2018, pp. 110–11).

While missionaries profoundly influenced Chinese epistemologies, their work also prompted introspection and adaptation within European scientific traditions. Encounters with China’s vast and diverse flora challenged the limitations of Western classificatory systems, driving refinements in taxonomy and methodology. This mutual influence underscores the dynamic interplay of cross-cultural exchanges in reshaping both Chinese and European botanical studies.

Missionary botanical studies in China reveal a complex interplay of cultural, scientific, and political forces. The Jesuits’ early efforts, rooted in phyto-theology and imperial patronage, laid the groundwork for cross-cultural exchanges. The Treaty of Nanking catalyzed a new phase, marked by the expansion of missionary activities and the introduction of modern botanical practices. As Edward Said’s critique of imperialism reminds us, these scientific endeavors were inextricably linked to broader colonial dynamics, shaping not only Chinese understandings of the natural world but also European approaches to botany. Ultimately, missionary botanical studies reflect a history of mutual influence and enduring tensions, demonstrating the transformative power of cross-cultural encounters.

6. Concluding Remarks

This research has aimed to examine how European scientific ideas, particularly in the field of botany, influenced and transformed the Chinese intellectual and environmental landscape. The transnational circulation of scientific ideas followed uneven paths, with Western botany encountering significant challenges in premodern China due to deep cultural differences. The missionaries’ aspiration to proselytize required a comprehensive project of cultural translation, designed to instill a Christian understanding of nature within China’s sophisticated intellectual traditions.

Although this paper has not covered every facet of the complex interconnections between intellectual, economic, and botanical exchanges, it has attempted to shed light on several key aspects. First, the botanical studies conducted by missionaries were not motivated solely by scientific curiosity or religious zeal. Handel-Mazzetti describes Catholic missionaries as having a genuine interest in botanical studies, with no initial financial motives, yet they exported numerous seeds and plant samples to Europe (Handel-Mazzetti 1996). Their secluded lifestyles were not entirely voluntary but were shaped by the resistance to foreign influence and the closed policies of the Chinese government. Over time, these botanical transactions contributed to a business model that generated financial benefits, with Protestant missionaries supported by the East India Company and Dutch East India Company using such revenues to sustain their missions. Thus, the missionary enterprise must be understood as a broad network of transnational exchanges, wherein religious pietism, science, and political–economic interests intersected. This perspective offers a more comprehensive understanding of the missionaries’ impact on modern China, beyond the narrative framed by the Treaty of Nanking.

Second, the collaboration between Chinese and European intellectuals extended beyond translations and ideological exchanges to tangible, material interactions. Catholic priests applied their knowledge of genetics to improve indigenous plants, creating hybrid species. European-origin plants were also cultivated in Qing imperial gardens and Jesuit residences, symbolizing the hybridity of cultural exchange. These botanical transactions epitomized the ground-level transformations in China’s environmental landscape, demonstrating the extent to which intellectual communication in botanical studies led to material changes.

Finally, Chinese perceptions of nature were increasingly shaped by experimental science introduced by missionaries. After the arrival of genetic technologies and global business practices, botanical productivity became a central focus of empirical observation. George A. Stuart’s botanical studies show how missionary botanists and medical doctors conducted numerous empirical tests in Manchuria (Stuart 1911, pp. 9–11). The convergence of economic and political colonialism with the Jesuit mission in Asia highlights the need for further study of the missionaries’ broader influence on Chinese and European environments.

In conclusion, the botanical studies undertaken by missionaries not only altered the Chinese environment but also transformed European understandings of nature. These studies embodied, multiplied, and reshaped both Chinese and European environmental landscapes, creating lasting legacies in the fields of science, agriculture, and cross-cultural exchange.