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| Mule-driven mill. |
| The history of milling in China stretches back thousands of years and reflects both the ingenuity of early societies and the persistence of traditional methods well into the modern era. The Mills Archive Trust holds a wealth of material that documents this story, from postcards and photographs in the Mildred Cookson Foundation Collection to rare journals and pioneering research by Joseph Needham. Together, these resources shed light on how the Chinese developed distinctive milling technologies, often ahead of similar advances in the West, and how they adapted them to the needs of everyday life. |
| Early Methods of Milling |
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| The brush and bowl technique in action. |
| As in many agrarian societies, the first Chinese milling technologies were muscle-powered. Animals such as oxen, mules, and horses were often harnessed to move heavy “edge-runner” stones across a flat bedstone. In many parts of rural China, such mills remained in use well into the twentieth century, as evidenced by postcards from the early 1900s. Farmers would walk alongside, brushing flour from the lower stone into a bowl – a process that may have looked strange to outsiders but was, in fact, remarkably efficient for small-scale production. A more detailed account of these early methods appears in an 1888 article in The Implement and Machinery Review, preserved in the Mills Archive. Wheat was typically pulled up by the root, bundled in sheaves, and taken to a specially prepared hard-packed space near the farmer’s home called the mien chong. After drying, the grain was threshed by rolling a great stone pulled by horses. Chaff and straw were removed through careful winnowing, every scrap being treasured for fuel, thatching, or other uses. Once the wheat was cleaned, it was stored in airy bamboo bins until ready for grinding. |
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| A second view of the the brush and bowl technique. |
| The grinding itself involved two round bluestone wheels. Grooves were cut into the stones, and the lower one was fixed with a wooden plug in its centre. A mule or horse turned the upper stone, while poorer households without animals performed the labour themselves. Flour was produced in three grades: the fine shon mien, the darker nee mien, and a coarse final product resembling gingerbread when baked. Unlike in Europe, where bread was baked in ovens, Chinese bread was usually fermented and then steamed. This method reflects both cultural preference and efficient adaptation to local resources. |
| A Flour Mill in Tsingtau |
| If these descriptions portray milling in general terms, a report published in the Weekly Northwestern Miller in November 1903 gives us an intimate look inside a typical Chinese flour mill of the time. Written by Kingsland Smith during a visit to the German-influenced port city of Tsingtau (modern Qingdao), it captures both the unfamiliarity of the mill’s workings to a Western observer and the resourcefulness of its millers. |
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| Threshing wheat. |
| Smith travelled by rickshaw about forty minutes into the village of Tai-tung-tschen, where he found a building indistinguishable from others in the hamlet. The proprietor welcomed him, hitched up a mule to demonstrate the mill, and even attempted to stage a photograph, abandoned when heat and swarms of flies made the donkey too restless for the long exposure required by early cameras. Inside, the mill bore little resemblance to Western establishments. Grain was stored in matting bins, and a small bolting chest stood in one corner. This bolting machine was remarkable: a long cloth-covered sieve moved back and forth by the rhythmic actions of a man balancing on a board. Each shift of his weight threw the sieve forward or back with a bang, creating a sort of physical workout that Smith likened to a private gymnasium. Despite its simplicity, the sieve could process some 80 pounds of meal per hour, a respectable output for local needs. |
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| Miller working the bolting machine. |
| The millstones themselves were small, only 30 by 8 inches, but effective. A blindfolded mule trudged endlessly in circles to power the grinding. Output amounted to about ten catties (roughly 13 pounds) of flour and three catties of bran per hour. Although modest, this production met the needs of the surrounding community. The stones, made from local granite, cost about £2 (equivalent to £320 today) a set and required redressing every five days. |
| Oil Milling and Local Economy |
| The same establishment also contained an oil mill of equally simple but effective design. An edge-runner stone crushed beans or seeds, which were then heated before pressing. The oil press itself was a contraption of tree trunks, wedges, and heavy hammers, gradually squeezing out every drop of oil. The residue, or oil cake, was sold for fertiliser. This integration of flour and oil milling reflects a wider Chinese tradition of making the most of every by-product, ensuring that nothing went to waste. |
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| Edge runners in a Chinese oil mill. |
| Such mills were widespread across northern China. Villages often maintained a common mill, available to anyone for grinding grain. In many cases, this responsibility fell to women. Missionaries noted that these communal spaces were sometimes cleaned and repurposed for religious meetings – a striking example of how central mills were to community life. Yet by 1903, trade in flour around Tsingtau was in decline. |
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| Typical oil press in a Chinese mill. |
| Continuity and Change |
| When viewed together, these sources – nineteenth-century machinery reviews, postcards, eyewitness accounts, and later scholarship – paint a vivid picture of milling in 19th century China. They show both continuity and change: continuity in the reliance on animal and human muscle, ingenious adaptations of simple tools, and cultural practices such as steaming bread; change in the gradual decline of traditional milling under the pressures of industrialisation and foreign trade. |
| Preserving the Record |
| Today, the Mills Archive Trust preserves these fragments of history, from Victorian journals to eyewitness accounts, allowing us to glimpse how milling shaped communities far from the industrial centres of Europe. Each postcard, article, and report tells a story not only of technology but also of resilience and adaptation.Milling in China is thus more than a tale of stones and grain. It is a window into cultural identity, daily labour, and the enduring quest to make the most of natural resources. By piecing together these stories, we not only preserve the past but also gain insight into the human capacity for innovation across time and place. |
| This article was originally published in Milling and Grain, the current title of Milling (founded 1891) the best of the Victorian milling journals and the only one which still exists. To read this month’s issue visit https://mymag.info/EN_latest |
