Genuine cross-cultural encounters during this era were much uglier. For example, a Jesuit priest named Jean-Francois Foucquet hired a Chinese man named John Hu to be his copyist in 1721. On the rocky nine-month trip across the Pacific and Atlantic, curving around South America and arriving in France, Hu grew increasingly disturbed. He brooded, had wild mood swings, and got into verbal altercations with other passengers. Foucquet’s only conclusion was that he suffered from something he called “Chinese madness.” This impression was bolstered when Hu had a meltdown in a French church after seeing males and females commingling during the services—something that was forbidden in China. When Foucquet mocked him for this, Hu crafted a drum and a foot-long banner with Chinese characters that read, “Men and women should be kept in their separate spheres.” He then pounded the drum and waved his banner through the streets of Paris, gathering a curious crowd at the doors of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Fearing Hu would be arrested for this strange behavior, Father Foucquet locked him away for two and a half years in an insane asylum. Eventually, Hu was summoned by a hospital cleric who was investigating his case. When asked if he had any questions, Hu only had one: “Why have I been locked up?” Life in Europe as an actual Asian man held only indignities.

George Psalmanazar, on the other hand, had access to valuable cultural resources that offered him a relatively good life. After he wowed London with his colorful stories, customs, and far-out accent, the public clamored for more about his homeland. It took Psalmanazar only two months to knock out a 288-page volume titled Description of Formosa, which sold out immediately. The book contained illustrations of native clothing and architecture and a lovely image of a grill used to roast the hearts of little boys. Description also featured foldout plates of the Formosan language and numerical system, along with information on botany, zoology, and gastronomy. British antiquarian Isaac D’Israeli dashed off a sarcastic exclamation-slathered summary of Psalmanazar’s book: “wretched inventions! of their dress! religious ceremonies! their tabernacle and altars to the sun, the moon, and the ten stars! their architecture! the viceroy’s castle! a temple! a city house! a countryman’s house! and the Formosan alphabet!” And then there was the book’s long, unwieldy title and subtitle.

an historical and geographical description of Formosa an Island subject to the Emperor of japan giving An Account of the Religion, Customs, Manners, &c. of the Inhabitants. Together with a Relation of what happen’d to the Author in his Travels; particularly his Conferences with the Jesuits, and others, in several Parts of Europe… By George Psalmanazar, a Native of the said Island, now in London

Description covered every imaginable (or, to be more precise, imagined) topic. Chapter 3 outlined the island’s “Form of Government, and of the new laws made by the Emperor Meriaandanoo,” while chapter 8 discussed “the Worship of the Sun, of the Moon, and of the Ten Stars.” Psalmanazar explained that the Formosan year was divided into 10 months: Dig, Damen, Analmen, Anioul, Dattibes, Dabes, Anaber, Nechem, Koriam, Turbam. The primitive people of this island originally worshiped the sun, moon, and 10 stars, but this changed in the early days of Formosan society. Throughout the book, Psalmanazar sounded like an anthropology major tripping on peyote. The Aryan Asian claimed that two philosophers, Zeroaboabel and Chorche Matchin, rose to prominence and insisted Formosans devote themselves to a single, powerful god. They built a gigantic temple for a high priest named—yes, wait for it—Gnotoy Bonzo, who commanded them to annually sacrifice “the hearts of 18000 young Boys, under the Age of 9 Years, on the first day of the Year.” This was obviously a major logistical flaw for such a sparsely populated nation. Psalmanazar smoothed it over by claiming that men were permitted to have multiple wives, so that “they may beget many Children every Year; of whom some of the Sons are Sacrific’d, but the Daughters are all preserv’d for Matrimony.”

Wikimedia Commons

Psalmanazar’s book also offered a political history of Formosa, complete with conquests and daggered intrigue. It included a reproduction of a letter addressed to the Formosan king, written by the king of Japan (though no one asked how this wretched refugee acquired this rare document). To be sure, Description was outlandish, but Psalmanazar’s account wasn’t much different from that of an actual traveler such as George Candidius, the first missionary in Taiwan. Psalmanazar’s con worked because he tailored it for an Anglican audience predisposed to hating the Catholic Church. (If you are going to spin a crazy yarn for anti-papist Englishmen, it helps to say that French Jesuits kidnapped you.) Psalmanazar’s critics grew louder, which prompted a group of his supporters—or perhaps George himself?—to publish 1710’s An Enquiry into the Objections against George Psalmanazar of Formosa. The pamphlet cleared him of all charges, of course, but his novelty was wearing off. Within half a dozen years, he became a national joke, as is evidenced by an April Fools’–themed goof published in Joseph Addison and Richard Steele’s Spectator. The March 16, 1711 issue announced, “On the first of April will be performed at the Play-house in the Hay-market an Opera call’d The Cruelty of Atreus. N.B. The scene wherein Thyestes eats his own children, is to be performed by the famous Mr. Psalmanazar, lately arrived from Formosa: the whole Supper being set to kettle-drums.”