The selected passages, reproduced below in italics, describe the sensual aspects of the workers at their craft, their aesthetic considerations of what they made, and their physical abilities in their daily routines among the stacks of paper. For the sake of clarity, I provide the titles of selected chapters from which the quotations are drawn, aspects of the plot, and additional explanatory notes below in roman. CHAPTER I: BOW CREEK The drama begins with Medora Dingle, paper finisher, her husband Ned, beaterman extraordinaire, and their mutual friend Jordan Kellock considered one of the best vatmen in England. They are all together in a rowboat discussing their future. Both men are enamored with Medora. Though she is married to the good-natured Ned, she considers the more dignified Jordan a close friend. This relationship has interesting consequences later. Dene Mill is about to produce a paper never before made at the mill, and each worker depends on the other for its success. CHAPTER II: MAGIC PICTURES The master of the mill Matthew Trenchard discusses a "special" paper with Jordan Kellock. Storm in a Teacup: A Paper Mill "Romance" bernie vinzani View of Tuckenhay Mill from road to the millpond, circa 1890. Courtesy of Patrick Cox. 10 - hand papermaking "I've heard from that South American Republic, Kellock," said Mr. Trenchard. "They like the new currency paper and the colour suits them." "It's a very fine paper, Mr. Trenchard." "Just the exact opposite of what I'm after for these advertisements. The public, Kellock, must be appealed to by the methods of Cheap Jack at the fair. They love a conjuring trick, and if you can stop them long enough to ask ‘how's it done?' you often interest them and win them. Now samples of our great papers mean nothing to anybody but the dealers. The public doesn't know hand-made from machine-made. What we've got to do is show them—not tip-top paper, but a bit of magic; and such a fool is the public that when he sees these pictures in water-mark, he'll think the paper that produces them must be out of the common good. We know that it's not ‘paper' at all in our sense, and that it's a special brew for this special purpose; but the public, amazed by the pictures, buys our paper and doesn't know that the better the paper, the more impossible such sleight of hand would be upon it. We show them one thing which awakes their highest admiration and causes them to buy another!" All this Jordan Kellock very well understood, and his master knew that he did; but Trenchard liked to talk and excelled in lucid exposition. "That's right," said the vatman; "they think that the paper that can take such pictures must be good for anything; though the truth is that it's good for nothing—but the pictures. If there was any quality to the pulp, it could never run into such moulds as these were made in." He began to pick up the impressions of a series of large exhibition water-marks, and hold them to the windows, that their transparent wonders might be seen. "Real works of art," he said, "with high lights and deep shadows and rare half tones and colour, too, all on stuff like tissue. The beaterman must give me pulp as fine as flour to get such impressions." "Finer than flour, my lad. The new moulds are even more wonderful. It is no good doing what your father did over again. My father beat my grandfather; so it's my duty to beat him—see?" (9–10) CHAPTER IV: A NEW VATMAN Workers were known to speak favorably of those who excelled in their work. They also had an awareness of their own way of working knowing full well that the quality of the pulp and paper was the determining factor in their continued employment. Philander Knox, looking for a job, introduces himself to Mr. Trenchard and Mr. Trood, foreman of the mill. Vatmen knew their worth and could apply to any mill for work.3 "What department?" asked Trenchard. "A vatman, if so be you're wanting a good one." "I'm always wanting a good vatman. We've got three of the best in England here." "Take me and you'll have four," said the man. Trenchard laughed and looked at him.... \[Mr. Trood enters.\] "By name, Philander Knox," explained the stranger. "I must tell you," he added, "that I've got rather a queer stroke at the vat. People laugh to see me with a mould; but they don't laugh when they see the paper." "We shan't quarrel with your stroke if we don't with your sheet," said Trood. "I'm for a nice, easy stroke myself, because it goes farther and faster; but we all know no two men have the same stroke. We've got a man now with a stroke like a cow with a musket; but his paper's all right." "You can come for a week on trial," declared Trenchard. "Begin tomorrow if you're agreeable to terms." (28–29) CHAPTER V: THE RA G HOUSE Medora's mother Lydia is matron of the rag house where she oversees the other women as they sort rags for papermaking. The women are keen to "the touch," able to distinguish the various grades of cloth as it passes over their fingers.4 Lydia has been thinking about Medora's sudden change in attitude toward her husband. Her concerns are soon known among the workers around her and throughout the morning this topic is discussed until the mill bell rings and they depart for lunch. From the mountain of rags on her left the sorter plucked material and picked it over the lattice, an open wire-work sieve spread before her. Standing beside it was a short upright knife used to cut the rags and sever from them the buttons, hooks and eyes, whalebones and other extraneous additions that had belonged to their earlier incarnations. These knives were made from old steel scythes worn too thin for husbandry, but here answering a final purpose of value. The hones hummed from time to time, for the busy knives needed constant sharpening. Their cutting edge turned away from the workwoman and to it she brought the material—fragments of every garment ever manufactured from spun cotton….Here they were from the dust heaps of a continent, from the embracing of bodies noble and simple, high and low, young and old, sweet and foul. (31) CHAPTER VIII: ASSAULT AND BATTERY The beater engines located above the vat room were in constant use feeding the various vats with the pulp needed for papermaking. Ned Dingle is training a young apprentice in the management of the machinery and he discusses the fine judgment needed to determine the readiness of the pulp for papermaking.5 He is unaware of the calamity about to befall him. He regulated the churning wheel with a footplate, and presently, satisfied that the mass, which was now like fine cream after revolving in the beating tank for many hours, had reached perfection, Ned took a test to satisfy himself. Two hand-bowls, or dippers, he lifted, scooped up a few ounces of the pulp, then mixed it with pure water, and flung the liquid backwards from one dipper to the other, pouring off and adding fresh water until what was left in his bowl resembled water barely stained with soap. The pulp was now so diluted that it needed sharp eyes to see anything in the water at all; but Dingle, taking it to the window, set it slowly dribbling away over the edge of the bowl, and as it flowed, the liquid revealed tiny fragments and filaments all separate, and as fine as spider's thread…. "And next week," declared Ned, "something finer still has got to be made—so fine that I shall have to borrow a pair of spectacles to see it— good as my eyes are. And that's the pulp for the Exhibition moulds.6 It's to be a record—such paper as never before was made in the world. But this is just ordinary, first class rag pulp—stuff that will last till doomsday if properly handled." (64) CHAPTER X: THE LETTER Jordan drafts a letter to Ned explaining his feelings for Ned's wife. After Medora reads the letter, she finds it offensive, icy, and unemotional. She writes her own letter to better suit the husband she has known. Back at the mill, the papermaking styles of vatmen Philander Knox and Jordan Kellock are described. The latter is making a large double elephant sheet.7 The pulp sucked hard at the great mould, to drag it to the depths, but the man's strength brought it steadily forth; and then he made his "stroke"—a complicated gesture, which levelled and settled the pulp on the mould and let the liquid escape through the gauze. Kellock gave a little jog to the right and to the left and ended with an indescribable, subtle, quivering movement which completed the task, It was the work of two seconds, and in his case a beautiful accomplishment full of grace and charm. He stood easily and firmly while every muscle of breast and arm, back and loins played its appointed part in the "stroke." Mr. Trood often stood and watched Jordan for the pleasure of the sight. It was the most perfect style he had ever seen. He was a theorist and calculated that Kellock produced the very greatest amount of physical power for the least possible expenditure of muscular loss; while others, who made as good paper as he, squandered thousands of pounds of dynamical energy by a stroke full of superfluous gesture.8 But the stroke is never the same in any two vatmen. It develops, with each artificer's knowledge of the craft, to produce that highly co-ordinated effort embraced in the operation of making a sheet of paper. Mr. Knox operated at the next vat and offered an object lesson. He did the same things that Kellock did; dipped his mould, drew it to him, brought it squarely out, jogged to right and left and gave that subtle, complex touch of completion; yet in his achievement a wholly different display met the observer. It seemed that he performed a piece of elaborate ritual before the altar of the vat. He bowed his head to right and left; he moved his tongue and his knees; he jerked his elbows and bent his back over the trough as a priest The beater floor at Tuckenhay Mill, circa 1900. Courtesy Bower Collection. above: The rag room at Tuckenhay Mill, circa 1890. Courtesy Bower Collection. 12 - hand papermaking consecrating the elements of some sacramental mass. Then he bowed and nodded once more and the created sheet emerged from his mould. The effect was grotesque, and seen at a little distance a stranger had supposed that Mr. Knox was simply playing the fool for the amusement of his coucher and layer; but in reality he was working hard and making as fine and perfect paper as Kellock himself. His muscles were tuned to his task; he had lifted his sheer weight of forty tons or more by the end of the day and was none the worse for it.9 Nor could he have omitted one gesture from his elaborate style without upsetting everything and losing his stroke. (88–89) CHAPTER XIV: THE DRYING LOFTS Unsettled word of the split in Medora and Ned's marriage spreads throughout the mill. Reams of paper have just arrived at the drying loft where the workers gossip over the news as they hang the sheets to dry. Drying is a process that demands watchfulness and judgment, for wet paper suspended here on the tackle does not respond in all its parts simultaneously. From the deckle edge it dries inward and the last spot to dry is the centre of each sheet. The dry workers, with a hand-tool like a T square, hang their sheet over the russet, cow-hair ropes; then when the rope is loaded, pull it aloft; but the art of drying lies in the regulation of heat and air. The heat is great, yet regular; every operation is ordered for cleanliness and purity, so that not a speck of dust may fall to mar a sheet. (133) CHAPTER XVII: TRA GEDY IN THE SIZING ROOM During the interim chapters Medora and Jordan leave Dene Mill and move to London where Jordan attends meetings of the Labour Party. While in London they view the now completed "Magic Pictures" watermarks on display in the Arts and Crafts Exhibition. The coldness of the letter Jordan wrote to Ned still plays on Medora's mind. Other differences in their personalities have begun to emerge. Medora returns to Dene Mill for a visit and she encounters an unfavorable welcome in the sizing room. Thither came the paper from the drying lofts, and the simple work was done by little girls. No sharp word or unpleasant attitude of mind was likely to reach her there. She entered unseen, and passed through the dim and odorous chambers where the sizerman, old Amos Toft, mixed the medium. Here, in two steaming vats, Amos melted his gelatine, made of buffalo hide, and added to the strong-smelling concoction those ingredients proper to the paper to be sized. Trade secrets controlled the mixture, but alum contributed an important factor, for without it, the animal compound had quickly decayed. In the sizing room a narrow passage ran between long troughs. The place steamed to its lofty, sunny roof, and was soaked with the odour of the size. Through the great baths of amber-coloured liquid there wound an endless wool blanket, and at one end of each great bath sat two little girls with stacks of dry paper beside them.10 They disposed the sheets regularly two together on the sizing felt, and the paper was drawn into the vats and plunged beneath the surface. For nearly three minutes it pursued its invisible way, and presently, emerging at the other end, was lifted off by other young workers and returned to the drying lofts again. (164) CHAPTER XXI: THE PROTEST Using a sheet of paper from the glazing room, a petition is written for the workers to sign barring Medora and Jordan from working at the mill. This letter does not have an effect and both come back to work where they are soon ostracized by some of their longtime co-workers. Girls prepared the paper for the rollers, and Medora had once been of this cheerful and busy throng. Hither came the paper from its final drying after the size bath, and the workers stood with a heap of sheets on one side of them and a little stack of polished zinc plates on the other. With her left hand each girl snatched a sheet of paper, with her right a plate of zinc; and then she inter-leaved the paper with the metal until a good wad rose in her crib. The paper was now ready for the glazing rollers, and men, who tended these massive machines, ran the sheets and zinc wads between the steel rollers, backward and forward twice and thrice under tremendous strain…. The distinctive sounds in this great shop were three...a paper maker upper right: The salle (finishing house) at Tuckenhay Mill where paper was sorted, cured, counted, and packed. Courtesy Bower Collection. lower right: The size machine at Tuckenhay Mill. Courtesy Bower Collection. with his eyes shut would know exactly where he was. First, the steady thud of the plates on the side of the wooden cribs; next, the ceaseless rustle and hiss of the paper flying between the girl's hands as it is laid upon the zinc or snatched off it; and lastly the rumble of the rolling machines sounding a bass as they grip the piles of paper and metal and squeeze them up and down. (207–208) CHAPTER XXVI: THE STROKE The strain of emotions displayed at the mill among the workers, as well as Jordan's divided attention with his Labour Party activities, makes the unthinkable happen at the vat. Kellock brought up his mould, and instead of proceeding with the rhythmic actions to right and left—those delicate operations of exquisite complexity where brain telegraphed to muscle, and motor and sensory nerves both played their part in the completion of the "stroke"—instead of the usual beautiful and harmonious gestures that drained the mould and laid a sweet, even face of paper upon it, he found forces invisible at his elbows and an enemy still more terrible within. (268) After washing off the faulty sheet, trying again and again to make paper, Jordan Kellock realizes that he has lost control of his mould. Numerous attempts of making a sheet fail. Certain he cannot continue with the turmoil he is experiencing, the dejected Kellock leaves the mill.11 In the remaining chapters, additional twists in the plot emerge. True to her earlier feelings, Medora still has second thoughts about Jordan. You will have to read the book to find out what happens. After delivering a rousing Labour Party speech, Jordan never makes paper again and leaves Devon for good. After a brief hiatus from Dene Mill, Ned continues on as beaterman. Philander Knox becomes a wise counsel to the workers of the mill, and Medora's mother, Lydia, seeks Philander's wisdom with her own emerging needs. Later, Philander Knox, in the company of Ned and Lydia, shared his feelings about Jordan: "A great paper maker; and as if that was not enough, a power of talk and a talent for politics. Not that he'll ever be half as good in his new line as he was in his old. A man can't rise to be first class at two crafts….'Tis always uncomfortable living with heroes—even little tin ones—but when time has took 'em and just kneaded what good they've done into the common wealth of human progress—then we can feel kindly to their memories." (302–303) After this last exchange, the workers go back to their tasks; the newly beaten pulp is sent from the engine room to the vats below. ___________ notes 1. Eden Phillpotts, Storm in a Teacup (New York: MacMillan & Company, 1919). The book has been digitized by Google and can be read online. Search for "google books storm in a teacup." Page reference is given in parentheses following a quotation. 2. The book opens with place names "on the tidal waters of the Dart." Tuckenhay is one of those names. Another book in my library, Catherine Cox, Handmade Paper in Tuckenhay Devon (Devon: Folkcrafts Limited, 1977) repeats many of Phillpotts' mill descriptions from Storm in a Teacup. Mrs. Cox came from a family of papermakers and was long involved with Tuckenhay Mill. Also see the Papermaking at Tuckenhay Mill website, http://papermakingattuckenhay.com (accessed December 24, 2013). It is an excellent resource with an audio clip of Sam Cox, beaterman, from 1975, an interactive plan of the mill with recent photographs of the site, and discussion of Philpotts and Storm in a Teacup. 3. In a later conversation with Medora, Jordan proclaims, "I shall inform Mr. Trenchard that I will return, or leave as he prefers. It really doesn't matter to me; because, thank God, my ability makes me independent." (Storm in a Teacup, 116) 4. Maureen Green describes the skill of women rag sorters in Papermaking at Hayle Mill (Newark, Vermont: The Janus Press, 2008), 21. For a comprehensive list of over one hundred varieties of rags for papermaking, see The Dictionary of Paper (New York: American Paper and Pulp Association, 1940), 23–29. 5. Tests for determining the readiness of pulp varied on the customs taught from master to apprentice. In Papermaking in Eighteenth Century France, Management, Labor, and Revolution at the Montgolfier Mill 1761-1805 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), Leonard Rosenband describes one method: "The governor resorted to time-honored practices when he had to decide if the pulp was ready. He grabbed a handful of stock, squeezed out the water, and broke the mass open. If the filaments were homogeneous and resembled the short, flattened, and hairy appearance of a fly's leg, the governor passed them to the vatman…" (page 10) 6. Additional descriptions of this pulp include "soft as milk" and "stuff you'd think couldn't hold together…but such pulp takes dyes exceedingly well." (Storm in a Teacup, 34) 7. The size of double elephant sheet size, depending on its use, was approximately 27 x 40 inches. 8. This is one of the earliest references I have encountered about the physical dynamics of making paper. Kathryn Clark, master of making paper with little physical effort, taught me how to minimize movement at the vat. Additional information related to this topic can be found in the video, The Ergonomics of Hand Papermaking or How to Make Paper Without Getting a Sore Back (Santa Cruz, CA: Peter and Donna Thomas, 2000), and in Lynn Amlie's article "Paper Ergonomics: Easing the Strain," Hand Papermaking, vol. 19, no. 1 (Summer 2004): 39–44. 9. Maureen Green describes how Hayle Mill vatman Norman Peters, brought out of retirement to make Finale, the last paper made at the Mill, dipped over 1,000 sheets on his first day back and, "…at the end of his shift, left the Mill with his shoes shining and his shirt as fresh as if he had just put it on five minutes previously." (Papermaking at Hayle Mill, 60) 10. For a description of gelatin sizing as well as a photograph of workers with the sizing trough at the Tuckenhay Mill in 1900, see Peter Bower, "The Evolution and Development of ‘Drawing Papers' and the Effect of this Development on Watercolor Artists, 1750-1850," Oxford Papers, Studies in British Paper History, vol. 1 (1996): 66–67. 11. Robert Henderson Clapperton and William Henderson offer this explanation: "It is also quite a common occurrence for a vatman, owing to nervous strain, to loose control of the muscles in his arms, and, as it is called, ‘loose his shake,' sometimes only temporarily, usually permanently. The vatman can only do his work properly if he is in good health and ‘free from care.'" In Modern Paper-making (London: Ernest Benn Limited, 1929), 257.  

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