ASCENT OF MOUNT O-MEI.
A glance at a map showing the comparative heights of mountains, will give a good idea of how the top of the giant has to be reached. Peak rises behind peak, and each of these has to be surmounted on the way to the summit. Beyond Wan-nien-ssŭ, which is more than 3000 feet above the plain, the road is so steep that no means of conveyance is possible and cultivation soon ceases. Starting at five o’clock on the morning of the 24th, we ascended this steep winding ladder and gained the summit in twelve hours after many a weary step and many a rest. In fact, had it not been that British pluck was in the balance, I should have given in long before. As it was, drenched with perspiration and mist, I just succeeded in dragging my weary aching limbs into the temple that crowns the summit, 11,100 feet above the sea.
A few hundred yards above Wan-nien-ssŭ we entered the clouds, and from that point upward nothing but impenetrable whiteness was visible. The road, if I may use the word, ascends through dense pine and brushwood, and here and there a gulf of whiteness warned us that we stood on the verge of a precipice.
At the rear of the temple on the “Golden Summit” is the terrible precipice which is seen from even beyond the Min. On its very brink once stood a temple of bronze, which has twice succumbed to lightning shafts and fire. It was built during the Ming Dynasty, and rebuilt after its first fall; but on the second occasion portions of it fell over the precipice, and the only parts still in their original positions are three small bronze pagodas, bearing unmistakable traces of fire. Their tops have been melted and twisted. Beautifully carved bronze doors, pillars, tiles, and other pieces of what must have been a magnificent building, lay about in heaps. It is from the terrace on which the three pagodas stand that the celebrated “Glory of Buddha” is to be seen. A low fence of boulders of iron ore prevents the too anxious sightseer from precipitating himself into the terrible abyss. If the future traveller should be as unfortunate as I was, he will stand by this fence with white clouds overhead and around him, and gaze down eastwards into impenetrable whiteness, in the vain hope of seeing the sun burst through the clouds overhead, and reveal his image on the clouds below. Not once did this occur during the day of the 25th of June, and we left the spot in the belief that the “Glory of Buddha” was not for us. But a single gaze into this impenetrable white gloom was to me as impressiveas a thousand “Glories of Buddha” could possibly have been.
PRIESTLY RAPACITY.
The pilgrims in their penance—for it is a penance to ascend the mountain—frequently appealed to the Great Buddha of O-mei as they scrambled up the steep steps polished by the feet of myriads. On the summit they paid their devotions to Buddha, lighted their joss-sticks and candles, prostrated themselves on long stools covered with palm-coir, threw their incense into the flames, and gazed to see the “Glory of Buddha.” This ceremony over, they took from their pockets a few cash and polished them on the bronze pagodas and doors. These they carry back to their homes as charms and souvenirs of their visit to the Golden Summit of O-mei. The pilgrims come from their native places in groups, accompanied by one who can read. The latter is the mouthpiece of his comrades, and recites their prayers to the Great Buddha.
I have already said that beggars lined the road to the mountain; but greater and still more importunate beggars dwell on the mountain side and on the summit. The priests, smooth-tongued and polite, draw from the pockets of the pilgrims money to repair the temples and the road. I did not escape their rapacity. The appeal was, however, made in such a pleasant way that it could not be resisted. A few potatoes grown on the acre which forms the summit were presented to me, and had to be paid for by a sum much in excess of their value. The workmanship of the temples, which are numerous and built of pine from the forests by which they are surrounded, is often excellent, the artificersbeing the priests themselves. The mountain is credited as being the home of various kinds of wild animals—among them the tiger. Fortunately for us, he did not put in an appearance, and we saw nothing more deadly than a couple of large monkeys, one of which had just leaped from a tree on one side of a chasm to a tree on the other, while the second was arrested in his pursuit by our sudden appearance. Medicines of several sorts, including a species of wild ginseng, were exposed for sale on the stalls which clung to the mountain side. As the day of the 26th of June broke as gloomy as its predecessor, and there was no hope of catching even a glimpse of the “Glory of Buddha,” I resolved to delay no longer on the chance of a struggle with the unseen. The descent was more difficult than the ascent, and I must confess to three fair falls on the slippery steps, rendered still more slippery by mist and rain, which accompanied us half-way down to Wan-nien-ssŭ. Two hundred yards above the temple, I succeeded in placing my right foot between two stones forming a step, and so twisting it that a tendon behind the knee refused to perform its duty and, with excruciating pain, I managed to crawl down a hundred yards of precipitous steps, where a small chair could reach me from below.
On the morning of the 27th we continued the descent by a different road from that by which we ascended, previously, however, purchasing a couple of curiously-carved alpenstocks from the priests, their makers. A snake in relief twined upwards round the stock, ending in a head surmounted by a couple of horns.
The road wound eastward down a gorge between high precipices, from which numerous cascades leaped and bounded into a stream flowing eastward, over a narrow bridge of iron rods spanning the stream near the end of the gorge, and, after crossing several small plains, joined the high-road to O-mei Hsien.
CHINESE DUPLICITY.
On my return to the city, I found that every possible obstacle was being raised to prevent the completion of my journey. The magistrate sent his secretary to inform me that there was no road southwards to the Yang-tsze, and even those of my own men who had been left behind were unwilling to proceed. It was suggested that I should return to Chia-ting, take boat to a point farther south, and then strike inland. I thereupon sent in search of a trader, who quickly appeared, and gave me the names of the different stages to the next city of Ma-pien T’ing. Arming my writer with the list, I packed him off post haste to the magistrate with a demand for a double escort to enable me to penetrate this unknown country. He at once complied with my demand. Had I been told, what the magistrate himself probably did not know, that a desultory warfare was being waged with the aborigines to the west near Ma-pien, I should have reconsidered my route, so as not to embroil responsible officers in case of any accident to my party; but so palpable was the untruth told me that I did not hesitate for a moment about proceeding. The unwillingness of my own men, as I subsequently learned, was due to the fact that two of my bearers were struck down by typhoid fever during my absence; and, on my return, they had to be sentback to Chia-ting, and thence shipped to Ch’ung-k’ing. It is well that the future is not revealed to us, for, had I known then that one human life was to be sacrificed to the privations of the route, I should at once have relinquished further exploration, and left to others the honour of descending the Yang-tsze from its highest navigable point.
The O-mei plain stretches south and south-east for some fifteen miles to within a short distance of the left bank of the Ta-tu River, when it is bounded by a spur which projects south-east from a low range of hills which lies to the south and east of the chief O-mei range. The southern half of the plain was in as high a state of cultivation as the northern, while the wax tree was still more thickly grown. On descending to the river we found it in full flood; junks and rafts were being hurried along by the current at lightning speed, and on the right bank trackers were dragging their craft up river at snail’s pace. The road followed for two days first the left and then the right bank of the Ta-tu—which we crossed at the market-town of Fu-lu-ch’ang—till, baulked in its eastern course by hilly ground to the south of the walled village of Tung-kai-ch’ang, the river flows northwards under precipitous rocky heights forming its left bank.
Leaving the Ta-tu at the bend, we struck south over the mountains to Tz’ŭ-chu-p’ing, which, like every other town and village, is surrounded by a wall and provided with a garrison. Great excitement was visible everywhere; the defences of even the meanest hamlet were conspicuously displayed; rusty gingalls, mounted ontripod stands and loaded, were placed within the gates ready to resist attack. But why all this excitement? A raid by Lolos—Man-tzŭ they were called—was recently successfully organised and carried out, a village was burned to the ground, and many of its male inhabitants carried off into the mountains to the west, to be utilised as shepherds or to await ransom. What the Chinese greatly resented, however, was the slaughter of a harmless blind man. The Lolos had swept him off with the crowd; but, finding after a time that he was sightless, they did him to death. “Might it not be that they mistook his blindness for unwillingness to be a slave?” “No,” said the Chinese, “the Lolos have no mercy.”
There must be something very unhealthy about this part of the country. At the end of the first stage from O-mei Hsien, two more of my men were struck down with fever; one of them had to be left behind, the other determined not to leave us and soon recovered under repeated doses of quinine. Little did I think when I was acting therôleof physician that I was to be the fifth victim.
PRECAUTIONS AGAINST A SURPRISE.
When we left Tz’ŭ-chu-p’ing on the morning of the 1st of July, I observed that my escort had been very materially strengthened, and that the soldiers, instead of straggling hither and thither, kept close to our caravan. Rumours were current that a band of Lolos, some two hundred strong, were in the immediate hills ready to raid, but undecided as to their ultimate point of attack, and extra precautions were taken against our being made unwilling visitors to Lolodom.
Proceeding south-east we crossed a low range, and dropped into a narrow valley between low rocky heights clad with brushwood. Beyond the valley, waves of terraced hills crowned with fir and oak had to be surmounted, and early in the afternoon we looked down into a deep narrow gorge, wherein a stream flowing northwards suddenly turns east. On the north bank, on the only piece of level ground to be seen, stands the walled town of Chou-pa-ch’ang, facing precipitous cliffs on the opposite shore. Most of the houses were furnished with watch-towers on their roofs, and in these, round smooth stones from the stream’s shingly bed were piled to resist attack.
Here very poor quarters were available; my room was over a tenanted pig-sty, and the floor was full of holes. I awoke next morning, after a restless night, burning with fever, and scarcely able to leave my bed. In this wretched inn I lay five whole days, and had ample time to ponder over the discomforts which the traveller, who has been brought up under sanitary laws, has to endure in this land of dirt. Confinement ultimately became so irksome and depressing that, although unable to walk to my chair without assistance, on the morning of the 7th of July I determined to proceed, and trust to the invigorating influence of fresh air to effect a cure.
Chou-pa-ch’ang is the highest navigable point for small craft on the river which is known on Chinese maps as the Ching-shui, but is locally called the Ma-pien River, from the city of that name near its source. Two rapids to the south of the town obstruct navigation, except for descending rafts. Crossing a streamlet, which enters the Ma-pien four miles to the south of Chou-pa-ch’ang, by a narrow chain bridge, the road leaves the main river, where it makes an eastern bend and goes south through broken country fairly wooded with the mulberry, wood-oil, and tallow trees, and, after ascending some low heights, descends into a large basin, at the southern end of which we again struck the left bank of the river at the town of Ni-tien-ch’ang, with the usual miserable accommodation. Next morning we crossed the river, and after two days’ winding west and south-west along its right bank, reached the departmental city of Ma-pien T’ing. Our approach had been announced by one of the escort who had preceded us in search of an inn, and half the population lined the left bank, on which the city stands, and blocked the streets through which we had to pass to our quarters.
GUERILLA WARFARE.
A guerilla warfare had been waged with the Lolo mountaineers some time previous to the date of our arrival; detachments of fifty soldiers had been repeatedly sent to carry on the work of extermination, but had not returned to announce their success. Preparations were being made to conduct operations on a larger scale, and fifteen hundred troops were quartered in the city and its neighbourhood. It was forbidden to kill or dispose of cattle and live stock generally, except for the use of the soldiery, and we had considerable difficulty in procuring supplies of any sort.
My escort was now strengthened by a dozen men, mostly Hunan braves, armed with swords, to conduct me in safety to the Yang-tsze. To the south-east ofthe city the road enters the mountains, where not a single Lolo was to be seen; the few houses visible were in reality forts, built on most inaccessible heights. A solid square of masonry, ten to twelve feet in height, with only one opening to serve as a doorway, supported a storey with windows and frequently a watch-tower. On this stage there was great trouble about food; rice could not be had for money, and, when I was partaking of my frugal breakfast, which I had taken the precaution to carry with me from Ma-pien, I saw my writer triumphantly waving in his hand, to the envy of all my other followers, an egg which he had either purloined or purchased, and off which he was about to make as hearty a meal as circumstances would allow.
During the day I was told that we should be able to buy an ox at Ting-nan-pa, the end of the stage, and we hurried on to prepare the feast of which we were all so much in need. On arrival, it was suggested in answer to our enquiries that an ox might be had some miles further on; but this was little satisfaction to hungry men. A Good Samaritan at length came to the rescue, and sold us, at a fabulous price, a leg of some animal or other—to this day I have no idea what it was—which made an excellent repast.
A FATIGUING JOURNEY.
According to the record of stages which I had procured in Ma-pien, we were still a three days’ journey from the Yang-tsze; but so many difficulties were crowding around us—no food, and my horse-boy very sick—that I determined to make a forced march and avoid at least one day of misery. When we left Ting-nan-pa on the morning of the 11th of July, I at onceabandoned my chair, proceeded with my escort on foot, and, after a brisk walk of four hours, reached the hamlet which was marked on my list as the end of the stage. It was a dismal place, and without waiting for my followers, who were still miles in our rear, I pushed on to the next stage. I was duly warned that the road was difficult, but the traveller in this land is accustomed to prevarication, and invariably finds it hard to elicit the truth.
For some distance east and south-east, the road was all that could be desired for a Chinese road, and I was beginning to chuckle to myself at the exposure of the imaginary difficulties, when it descended to the right bank of a stream which we had struck and crossed early in the morning. Here it was studded with huge boulders, over which we had literally to crawl. After an hour of this work, I stopped to allow my men to catch us up. When they arrived they were bursting with anger.
Having breakfasted off a couple of boiled Indian corn cobs, I followed my tactics of the morning and went ahead with my escort. There is no language strong enough to describe the road that we had then to follow; it wound with the right bank of the stream through a mountain gorge and ultimately descended into a stony plain, through which we made our way to the market-town of Chung-tu-ch’ang, the end of the stage. I arrived, dead beat, at five o’clock in the afternoon, after a walk of thirty miles over a frightful road and under a broiling sun. The whole caravan did not turn up till long after dark; my chair was battered,torn, and tattered; and my horse and mule were hopelessly lame. The only thing that saved us from utter collapse was the knowledge that we were only one short stage from the left bank of the Yang-tsze, where our overland journeying would probably be at an end.
With as light hearts as we could muster, on the morning of the 12th of July we left Chung-tu-ch’ang and the stream which flows behind it, and struck south-east and south over high hills. To the north towered confused mountain ranges, peak rising behind peak, dark and cloud-capped as we passed. On reaching the southern edge of an undulating plateau we looked into a deep ravine, down which flowed the stream; and far away to the south-east a yellow spot could be made out at the base of a dark mountain range. “What is that yellow spot?” I asked the keeper of a solitary inn shaded by a large banyan, just under the brow of the plateau. “That is the Chin Chiang,” was the welcome reply—the Golden River, the upper waters of the Yang-tsze. For a long time we sat under that shady banyan, indulging recklessly in rice-broth to strengthen and cheer us in our hour of joy. There was no laggard now; down the steep mountain side we hurried to the stream, and followed its right bank for four miles to the town of Man-i-ssŭ, which clings to the steep face of the left bank of the Golden River, and is about fifty miles higher than the highest point reached by the Upper Yang-tsze Expedition in 1861. Here, after a vain search for suitable night quarters, we engaged three small boats which were moored under the town, and dropped down river for a distance of twelve milesto the town of Fu-kuan-ts’un on the right bank and within the province of Yün-nan.
To my surprise, I found that the Yang-tsze is the boundary of the provinces of Ssŭ-ch’uan and Yün-nan to within a short distance of the mouth of the Hêng River, which enters it opposite the town of An-pien, on the left bank, sixteen miles west of Sui Fu. Fu-kuan-ts’un was crowded with agents buying up native opium, and it was only with the assistance of the local authorities that I was able to secure a small room in an inn. At the back, however, I soon discovered an outhouse which I much preferred to the room, and where I was removed from the glassy eyes of crowds.
PREPARING TO SHOOT THE RAPIDS.
Two courses were now open to me—to proceed overland to P’ing-shan Hsien and there take junk to Sui Fu and Ch’ung-k’ing, or to risk the descent of two dangerous rapids in a boat from Fu-kuan-ts’un. I decided to adopt the latter alternative; but, as trade so far west is insignificant and boats do not attempt the descent unless heavily laden, I had to wait three days till sufficient cargo had been collected for the craft which I had engaged. It was so hot on shore that I spent the night of the 15th on board, for the double purpose of catching any stray breeze on the river, and of being able to start at daylight on the morrow.
Our boat was of considerable length, deeply laden, and fitted with long sweeps at both ends, weighted with large stones to balance the outlying portions. At daylight we shipped a special crew of ten men, including a pilot, to help us down the rapids. They took entire possession of the fore part of the boat, while theregular crew, also numbering ten, were relegated to the stern, to work the sweep and a side spar which four men kept pumping up and down in front of the sweep. The pilot was a small wizened man of about sixty, with grizzled beard and moustache, and a keen piercing eye. His crew of nine—all young active fellows—at first took to the oars, the bow sweep being fastened to the deck by a noose. Six men hung on the stern sweep, and four worked the side spar. The descent was comparatively easy for twelve miles as far as Shih-ch’i-ch’ang, a market-town on the Yün-nan side, where we moored above a rapid, and my followers, with the exception of my writer, personal servant, and one of the soldiers who had special instructions never to lose sight of me, took eager advantage of the skipper’s order to go on shore. I also landed my horse and mule.
Casting off our moorings, we soon slid into the Chi-kan-shih, which is a long confused mass of water stretching across the whole breadth of the river. Currents rush in all directions, causing waves and whirlpools. The moment we entered the rapid, the pilot shouted out the order, “To the bow sweep!” Seven of the oars were quickly thrown aside, and the seven rowers with the pilot clung round the sweep. With his left hand on its butt end, the pilot gave his orders to the steersmen by means of an old fan which he carried in his right, for the noise and hissing of the waters drowned his shrill voice. The difficulty was to keep the boat’s bows with the stream through the currents and whirlpools. This we accomplished, shipping only a little water.
A SKILFUL PILOT.
From this rapid the river rushes with considerable force south-east and south, till it is barred in the latter direction by a mountain whose bare cliffs, which have successfully resisted the attacks of the current, rise sheer from the angry waters. Foiled in its southern onset, it rushes east and at right angles to its former course, causing the most dangerous of all the rapids—of which the boatmen enumerate twenty—on this section of the river. It is called theWan-wan T’an, or “Winding Rapid,” and well does it deserve the name. The river rushes swiftly to the cliffs, seemingly bent on carrying all with it. The confusion caused by the rush, the sharp bend and the sudden contraction is terrible, and we were, to all appearances, being swiftly hurried to destruction. But the eye of the pilot wavered not. His crew on the bow sweep and his old fan saved us from the cliffs. Once, however, the steersmen were slow in obeying an order, when the old man threw his fan on the deck, and with his clenched right hand repeatedly struck his left palm. The boat’s stern was within arm’s length of the cliffs! Our soldier fired a shot from a horse-pistol as we entered each rapid, whether in its honour or in its defiance I know not. The rapids passed, the pilot and his crew left us, and we re-shipped our men, escort, and animals, and proceeded to Sui Fu, which we did not reach till dark.
We spent the greater part of the 17th of July in hiring and inspecting a passenger boat to convey us to Ch’ung-k’ing, and in the afternoon everything was arranged for a start next morning. Towards night, word was brought to me that my horse-boy, who occupied aroom in the inn immediately underneath my own, and who, I noticed, left the boat very much exhausted the previous night, was dangerously ill with dysentery, brought on by the hardships of the route. I at once consulted his wishes as to proceeding or remaining to recruit with one of my servants, who was a relative, to attend to him. He expressed a desire to proceed, and I ordered a chair to be in waiting next morning to take him on board. At two o’clock in the morning I was roused from my sleep by what appeared to be a shout in Chinese, “Your horse-boy is dead.” I got up and lit my candle; but there was neither sound nor movement anywhere. I went to bed again, and at daybreak my servant announced the poor man’s death. After the funeral—I buried him at Sui Fu—we embarked, and before noon of the 21st of July we lay off Ch’ung-k’ing, glad that our overland struggles were at an end.
CHINESE INSECT WHITE WAX.
References to insect white wax in Europe and China—Area of production—Chief wax-insect producing country—The insect tree—The insect “buffalo” beetle, or parasite—The insect scales—The transport of insects to the wax-producing districts—Method of transport—The wax tree—How insects are placed on the wax trees—Wax production—Collection of the wax—An ignominious ending—Insect metamorphosis—Uses of the wax—Quantity and value.
References to insect white wax in Europe and China—Area of production—Chief wax-insect producing country—The insect tree—The insect “buffalo” beetle, or parasite—The insect scales—The transport of insects to the wax-producing districts—Method of transport—The wax tree—How insects are placed on the wax trees—Wax production—Collection of the wax—An ignominious ending—Insect metamorphosis—Uses of the wax—Quantity and value.
Although the substance called Chinese Insect White Wax has long been known in Europe, it is only within recent years that the mystery which has surrounded this remarkable industry has been cleared up. Amongst Europeans, we find Martini in hisNovus Atlas Sinensis—a work descriptive of the Chinese Empire, published in 1655—mentioningalba ceraas a product of the Hu-kwang provinces, and of the province of Kwangsi. Again, Gabriel de Magalhaes, in his “Nouvelle Rélation de la Chine,” published in 1668, states that white wax is produced in the provinces of Hunan, Hupeh, and Shantung; while in the “Lettres Edificantes,” published in 1752, Père Chanseaume has a “Memoire sur la cire d’arbre,” or tree wax. In the “Comptes Rendus de l’Académie des Sciences” of 1840, Stanislas Julienadds some notes on tree wax and the insects which produce it, and quotes from Chinese authors on the same subject; and in volume XII. of the Pharmaceutical Journal, published in 1853, there is an article by Daniel Hanbury entitled “The Insect White Wax of China.” More recently, Fortune, the two delegates of the Shanghai General Chamber of Commerce who ascended the River Yang-tsze into Western China in 1868, Baron von Richthofen, and Gill, have all alluded to the subject; and Mr. Baber, while he held the post of Her Majesty’s Agent in Western China, wrote a special and very interesting report on Insect White Wax, to which, as his successor, I had free access. In 1880, Père Rathouis published at Shanghai a short memoir on the white wax insect.
As early as 1522, this wax is mentioned in Chinese books; but at that time the idea seems to have been prevalent that the insects, by some mysterious process of metamorphosis, were themselves converted into a white substance and did not excrete the wax.
Although the province of Ssŭ-ch’uan has always been recognized as the chief breeding country of the white wax insect, and the great field for the production and manufacture of the white wax of commerce, the wax is found and manufactured in several other provinces, notably in Kuei-chow, Hu-nan, Fuh-kien, Chê-kiang, and An-hui, and in reality exists in small quantities from Chih-li in the north to the island of Hainan in the south of China.
INSECT WHITE WAX.
In the spring of the year 1884, I received instructions from the Foreign Office to procure for Sir JosephHooker dried specimens of the foliage and flowers of the trees on which the insects are propagated and excrete the wax; specimens of the twigs incrusted with the wax; samples of the cakes in the form in which the wax occurs in commerce; and Chinese candles made from the wax. I was also instructed to obtain, if possible, information on the whole subject of wax production, in addition to that furnished in Mr. Baber’s Report. My report on this interesting subject was published as an Appendix to a Parliamentary Paper in February, 1885; but at the time that that Paper was written and despatched I had not completed my investigations, and, unfortunately, some further notes which I sent to the Foreign Office were too late for publication with the Parliamentary Paper. As, therefore, the information already made public is but fragmentary, and as there are some mistakes into which, owing to my distance from scientific advice, I have fallen, I think it right that I should take the first opportunity that has offered since my arrival in England of supplying details and correcting mistakes.
If we glance at a map of China, we will find that the upper Yang-tsze, or Golden River as it is there called, is joined by a river called the Ya-lung or Ta-ch’ung, a little to the west of the one hundred and second degree of longitude, and that the united waters flow south-east below the twenty-sixth degree of latitude, and again turn north, forming, as it were, a loop towards the province of Yün-nan. Between these two rivers flows another smaller river called the An-ning, which joins the Ya-lung before the latter unites withthe Golden River. The An-ning flows down a valley called the valley of Chien-ch’ang, the local name of Ning-yuan Fu, the principal town within the river loop. This valley, the northern boundary of which is lat. 29° 20′, and southern boundary, lat. 27° 11′, is the great breeding ground of the white wax insect. In the valley, which is about 5000 feet above the level of the sea, and on the hills which bound it, there is one very prominent tree, called by the Chinese of that region theCh’ung shu, or “Insect Tree.” It is known under different names in the same province of Ssŭ-ch’uan; it is called theTung-ching shu, or “Evergreen Tree,” and thePao-kê-ts’ao shu, or “Crackling-flea Tree,” from the sputtering of the wood when burning. It is an ever-green with leaves springing in pairs from the branches. They are thick, dark-green, glossy, ovate, and pointed. In the end of May and beginning of June, the tree bears clusters of small white flowers, which are succeeded by fruit of a dark purple colour. From the specimens of the tree which I forwarded to Kew Gardens, the authorities there have come to the conclusion that it isLigustrum lucidum, or large-leaved privet.
In the month of March 1883, I passed through the Chien-chang valley; but, knowing that Mr. Baber had already furnished a report on the subject of white wax, I confined myself to a mere cursory examination of the insect tree. In that month, however, I found attached to the bark of the boughs and twigs, numerous brown pea-shaped excrescences. The larger excrescences or scales were readily detachable, and, when opened, presented either a whitey-brown pulpy mass, or a crowd of minute animals like flour, whose movements were only just perceptible to the naked eye.
THE WHITE WAX INSECT.
In the months of May and June 1884, when I was called upon for more detailed information on the subject, I had the opportunity of examining these scales and their contents with some minuteness in the neighbourhood of Ch’ung-k’ing, and also within the jurisdiction of Chia-ting Fu, the chief wax producing country in the province of Ssŭ-ch’uan. Ten miles to the east of Ch’ung-k’ing, I plucked the scales from the trees—theLigustrum lucidum—and on opening them (they are very brittle) I found a swarm of brown creatures, crawling about, each provided with six legs and a pair ofantennae. Each of these moving creatures was a white wax insect—thecoccus pe-laof Westwood. Many of the scales also contained either a small white bag or cocoon covering a pupa, or a perfect imago in the shape of a small black beetle. This beetle is a species ofBrachytarsus. For this information I am indebted to Mr. McLachlan, to whom the insects forwarded by me to Kew were submitted for examination.
If left undisturbed in the broken scale, the beetle, which, from his ungainly appearance, is called by the Chinese theniu-êrh, or “buffalo,” will, heedless of thecocciwhich begin to crawl outside and inside the scale, continue to burrow in the inner lining of the scale, which is apparently his food. The Chinese declare that the beetle eats his minute companions in the scale, or at least injures them by the pressure of his comparatively heavy body; and it is true that the scales from Chien-ch’angin which the beetles are numerous are cheaper than those in which they are absent. But, although Chinese entomology is not to be trusted, there is, after all, a grain of truth in the statement. The genusbrachytarsusis parasitic oncoccus, and the grub, not the imago, is the enemy of the white wax insect. The Chinese, therefore, are not far wrong when they pay a lower price for the beetle-infested scales.
When a scale is plucked from the tree, an orifice where it was attached to the bark is disclosed. By this orifice thecocciare enabled to escape from the detached scales. If the scales are not detached, but remain fixed to the bark, it may be asked, “How are thecoccito find their way out?” It has been stated by entomologists that they know not of any species of the familyCoccidaethat cannot find their way from underneath the mother-scale without assistance. This may also hold good in the present case; but all I contend for is, that thecocci pe-latake eager advantage of the opening pierced from inside the scale by the beetle to escape from their imprisonment. In addition to the branches with intact scales, which I carried home with me for examination, I closely observed the scales that had been left undetached on theligustrum, and found only one orifice in each scale—a circular hole similar in every respect to the orifice pierced by the beetles in the scales which I had beside me. At Chia-ting I examined scales that had been brought from the Chien-ch’ang valley. They were suspended on the wax trees and were for the most part empty. They had only one orifice—that by which they had been attached tothe bark of theligustrum, and by which thecoccihad no doubt escaped. In the very first scale I opened there, however, I found a solitary beetle.
The Chien-ch’ang valley is the great insect-producing country; but the insects may be, and are, propagated elsewhere, as in Chien-wei Hsien to the south of Chia-ting Fu, and even as far east as Ch’ung-k’ing. These insects are, however, declared by the Chinese to be inferior, and they fetch a lower price.
Two hundred miles to the north-east of Chien-ch’ang, and separated from it by a series of mountain ranges, is the prefecture of Chia-ting, within which insect white wax as an article of commerce is produced. In the end of April, the scales are gathered from theligustrumin the Chien-ch’ang valley, and collected for the most part at the town of Tê-ch’ang, on the right bank of the An-ning River, which I have already mentioned, in latitude 27° 24′.
TRANSPORT OF THE INSECTS.
To this town porters from Chia-ting annually resort in great numbers—in former years they are said to have numbered as many as ten thousand—to carry the scales across the mountains to Chia-ting. The scales are made up into paper packets, each weighing about sixteen ounces, and a load usually consists of about sixty packets. Great care has to be taken in the transit of the scales. The porters between the Chien-ch’ang valley and Chia-ting travel only during the night, for, at the season of transit, the temperature is already high during the day, and would tend to the rapid development of the insects and their escape from the scales. At their resting places, the porters open andspread out the packets in cool places. Notwithstanding all these precautions, however, each packet, on arrival at Chia-ting, is found to be more than an ounce lighter than when it started from Chien-ch’ang. In years of plenty, a pound of scales laid down in Chia-ting costs about half-a-crown; but in years of scarcity, such as last year, when only a thousand loads are said to have reached Chia-ting from Chien-ch’ang, the price is doubled.
In favourable years, a pound of Chien-ch’ang scales is calculated to produce from four to five pounds of wax; in bad years, little more than a pound may be expected, so that, taken as a whole, white wax culture has in it a considerable element of risk.
THE WHITE WAX TREE.
West from the right bank of the Min River, on which the city of Chia-ting lies, stretches a plain to the foot of the sacred O-mei range of mountains. This plain, which runs south to the left bank of the Ta-tu River, which forms the northern boundary of the Chien-ch’ang valley farther west, is an immense rice-field, being well-watered by streams from the western mountains. Almost every plot of ground on this plain, as well as the bases of the mountains, are thickly edged with stumps, varying from three or four to a dozen feet in height, with numerous sprouts rising from their gnarled heads. These stumps resemble, at a distance, our own pollard willows. The leaves spring in pairs from the branches; they are light green, ovate, pointed, serrated, and deciduous. In June, 1884, when I visited this part of the country, some of the trees were bearing bunches apparently of fruit in small pods; but, as no floweringspecimens were then procurable, there still exists a little uncertainty as to this tree. I am informed, however, that it is, in all probability, theFraxinus Chinensis, a species of ash. The tree is known to the Chinese as thePai-la shu, or “white wax tree.”
It is to this, the great home of the wax tree, that the scales are carried from the Chien-ch’ang valley. On their arrival, about the beginning of May, they are made up into small packets of from twenty to thirty scales, which are enclosed in a leaf of the wood-oil tree. The edges of the leaf are tied together with a rice-straw, by which the packet is also suspended close under the branches of the wax tree. A few rough holes are drilled in the leaf with a blunt needle, so that the insects may find their way through them to the branches.
On emerging from the scales, the insects creep rapidly up the branches to the leaves, among which they nestle for a period of thirteen days. They then descend to the branches and twigs, on which they take up their positions, the females, doubtless, to provide for a continuation of the race by developing scales in which to deposit their eggs, and the males to excrete the substance known as white wax. Whether or not the wax is intended as a protection to the scales, I am not prepared to say. I have frequently observed, however, scales far removed from any deposit of white wax, and it may be asked whether or not it is in these scales at a distance from the wax that the female beetles, cuckoo-like, deposit their eggs. The Chinese in Chia-ting have learned to distinguish the wax-producing from the non-wax-producing insects. They divide them intotwo classes, called respectively, thela-sha, or “wax sand,” and thehuang-sha, or “brown sand.” The former, which are of a reddish-white colour, are declared to be the wax producers, while the latter, which are of a brownish colour, are said to produce no wax. These are, without doubt, the males and females respectively. During the thirteen days after their escape from the scales, and their future life when studded on the bark, the insects must derive their nourishment from the sap of the tree, although to the unaided eye there is no visible impression on leaves or bark. From the absence of any such marks, the Chinese declare that the insects live on dew, and that the wax perspires from their bodies.
The wax first appears as a white coating on the under sides of the boughs and twigs, and resembles very much sulphate of quinine, or a covering of snow. It gradually spreads over the whole branch, and attains, after three months, a thickness of about a quarter of an inch. When the white deposit becomes visible on the branches, the farmer may be seen going the round of his trees, carefully belabouring each stump with a heavy wooden club, in order, as he says, to bring to ground thela-kou, or “wax dog,” a declared enemy of the wax insect. This probably refers to the beetle-mother. This clubbing of the stumps was done during the heat of the day, when the wax insects are said to have a firm hold of the bark.
After the lapse of a hundred days from the placing of the insects on the wax tree, the deposit is complete. The branches are then lopped off, and as much of thewax as possible removed by hand. This is placed in an iron pot of boiling water, and the wax, melting, rises to the surface, is skimmed off and placed in a round mould, whence it emerges as the white wax of commerce. Where it is found impossible to remove the wax by hand, twigs and branches are thrown into the pot, so that this wax is darker and inferior. Finally, not satisfied that all the wax has been collected, the operator takes the insects, which have meantime sunk to the bottom of the pot, and placing them in a bag, squeezes them until they have given up the last drop of their valuable product. They are then—an ignominious ending to their short and industrious career—thrown to the pigs!
WAX INSECT METAMORPHOSIS.
On the 27th of August, 1884, branches of theligustrumcoated with wax were brought to me. On removing the wax I found, close to the bark, a number of minute brown bags, evidently the malecocciin a state of metamorphosis. I examined the undisturbed branches from day to day, and on the 4th September I observed quite a number of white hair-like substances rising above the surface of the wax deposit. These ultimately proved to be the white forked tails of the male insects forcing their way up from the bark, and dislodging, as they emerged, small quantities of the wax. They were now provided with long wings, and, after tarrying for a time on the branches, flew away. By the 13th of September they had all disappeared, leaving visible the tunnels from the bark, upwards, by which they had escaped.
It will be seen from the above remarks that, as thebranches of the wax tree are boiled with the wax, the scales are destroyed, and hence it is necessary to have recourse annually to the Chien-ch’ang valley for fresh scales with eggs or insects.
When the branches are lopped off a wax tree, a period of three years is allowed to elapse before the scales are suspended under the new branches of the same tree. Wind and rain are greatly dreaded at the season of suspending the insects, and the sprouts of one and two years’ growth are considered too weak to resist a gale.
So much for the wax insect and its product. I come now to the subject of the quantity produced, its value and uses.
Since the introduction of kerosene oil into China, and its almost universal use in the remotest provinces of the Empire, the demand for white wax has declined considerably, and the supply has decreased in a corresponding ratio. Not many years ago, as I have already stated, ten thousand porters were required to carry the scales from the Chien-ch’ang valley to the wax tree country, and in 1884 we find that a thousand porters were able to transport the Chien-ch’ang supply. In many homesteads in Ssŭ-ch’uan, where candles were formerly the only lights, kerosene has been introduced, and it is now only when lighting is required outside—for there is no public lighting in China worthy of the name—that candles are employed by those who find it necessary to leave their homes after nightfall. I find, however, from the returns of the Chinese Imperial Maritime Customs for 1884, that the quantity ofInsect White Wax imported into Shanghai in foreign vessels from the ports on the Yang-tsze, amounted to 7,628 piculs, or 454 tons, valued at 381,440 taels, or about £95,000—say on an average £200 a ton.
The value, like the demand, has also declined. Not many years ago it was quoted at double the prices realized at present.
USES OF INSECT WAX.
Various uses are ascribed to this wax; but in Western China, as far as I have been able to gather, its sole use is for coating the exteriors of animal and vegetable tallow candles, and for giving a greater consistency to these tallows before they are manufactured into candles. Insect White Wax melts at 160° F., whereas animal tallow melts at about 95° F. Vegetable and animal tallow candles are therefore dipped into melted white wax; a coating is given to them, and prevents them guttering when lighted. It is also said to be used in other parts of China as a sizing for paper and cotton goods, for imparting a gloss to silk, and as a furniture polish. Chemists are likewise declared to utilize it for coating their pills; but, being in all probability of more value than the pills, the coating is removed before the latter are administered. In the Fuh-kien and Chê-kiang provinces it is employed to impart a polish to steatite, or soapstone ornaments, after the carving is completed.
Such, then, is a brief history of the production, manufacture, and uses of Chinese Insect White Wax—a substance interesting from a biological, as well as from a commercial, point of view.
THE TRADE OF WESTERN AND SOUTH-WESTERN CHINA.