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has　seen　the　Berlin　Wool。　　He　appears　to　have　a　silent　sorrow　on

him；　and　it　may　be　that。　　He　clears　the　table；　draws　the　dingy

curtains　of　the　great　bow　window；　which　so　unwillingly　consent　to

meet；　that　they　must　be　pinned　together；　leaves　me　by　the　fire　with

my　pint　decanter；　and　a　little　thin　funnel…shaped　wine…glass；　and　a

plate　of　pale　biscuits　…　in　themselves　engendering　desperation。



No　book；　no　newspaper！　　I　left　the　Arabian　Nights　in　the　railway

carriage；　and　have　nothing　to　read　but　Bradshaw；　and　'that　way

madness　lies。'　　Remembering　what　prisoners　and　ship…wrecked

mariners　have　done　to　exercise　their　minds　in　solitude；　I　repeat

the　multiplication　table；　the　pence　table；　and　the　shilling　table：

which　are　all　the　tables　I　happen　to　know。　　What　if　I　write

something？　　The　Dodo　keeps　no　pens　but　steel　pens；　and　those　I

always　stick　through　the　paper；　and　can　turn　to　no　other　account。



What　am　I　to　do？　　Even　if　I　could　have　the　bandy…legged　baby

knocked　up　and　brought　here；　I　could　offer　him　nothing　but　sherry；

and　that　would　be　the　death　of　him。　　He　would　never　hold　up　his

head　again　if　he　touched　it。　　I　can't　go　to　bed；　because　I　have

conceived　a　mortal　hatred　for　my　bedroom；　and　I　can't　go　away；

because　there　is　no　train　for　my　place　of　destination　until

morning。　　To　burn　the　biscuits　will　be　but　a　fleeting　joy；　still　it

is　a　temporary　relief；　and　here　they　go　on　the　fire！　　Shall　I　break

the　plate？　　First　let　me　look　at　the　back；　and　see　who　made　it。

COPELAND。



Copeland！　　Stop　a　moment。　　Was　it　yesterday　I　visited　Copeland's

works；　and　saw　them　making　plates？　　In　the　confusion　of　travelling

about；　it　might　be　yesterday　or　it　might　be　yesterday　month；　but　I

think　it　was　yesterday。　　I　appeal　to　the　plate。　　The　plate　says；

decidedly；　yesterday。　　I　find　the　plate；　as　I　look　at　it；　growing

into　a　companion。



Don't　you　remember　（says　the　plate）　how　you　steamed　away；　yesterday

morning；　in　the　bright　sun　and　the　east　wind；　along　the　valley　of

the　sparkling　Trent？　　Don't　you　recollect　how　many　kilns　you　flew

past；　looking　like　the　bowls　of　gigantic　tobacco…pipes；　cut　short

off　from　the　stem　and　turned　upside　down？　　And　the　fires　…　and　the

smoke　…　and　the　roads　made　with　bits　of　crockery；　as　if　all　the

plates　and　dishes　in　the　civilised　world　had　been　Macadamised；

expressly　for　the　laming　of　all　the　horses？　　Of　course　I　do！



And　don't　you　remember　（says　the　plate）　how　you　alighted　at　Stoke　…

a　picturesque　heap　of　houses；　kilns；　smoke；　wharfs；　canals；　and

river；　lying　（as　was　most　appropriate）　in　a　basin　…　and　how；　after

climbing　up　the　sides　of　the　basin　to　look　at　the　prospect；　you

trundled　down　again　at　a　walking…match　pace；　and　straight　proceeded

to　my　father's；　Copeland's；　where　the　whole　of　my　family；　high　and

low；　rich　and　poor；　are　turned　out　upon　the　world　from　our　nursery

and　seminary；　covering　some　fourteen　acres　of　ground？　　And　don't

you　remember　what　we　spring　from：…　heaps　of　lumps　of　clay；

partially　prepared　and　cleaned　in　Devonshire　and　Dorsetshire；

whence　said　clay　principally　comes　…　and　hills　of　flint；　without

which　we　should　want　our　ringing　sound；　and　should　never　be

musical？　　And　as　to　the　flint；　don't　you　recollect　that　it　is　first

burnt　in　kilns；　and　is　then　laid　under　the　four　iron　feet　of　a

demon　slave；　subject　to　violent　stamping　fits；　who；　when　they　come

on；　stamps　away　insanely　with　his　four　iron　legs；　and　would　crush

all　the　flint　in　the　Isle　of　Thanet　to　powder；　without　leaving　off？

And　as　to　the　clay；　don't　you　recollect　how　it　is　put　into　mills　or

teazers；　and　is　sliced；　and　dug；　and　cut　at；　by　endless　knives；

clogged　and　sticky；　but　persistent　…　and　is　pressed　out　of　that

machine　through　a　square　trough；　whose　form　it　takes　…　and　is　cut

off　in　square　lumps　and　thrown　into　a　vat；　and　there　mixed　with

water；　and　beaten　to　a　pulp　by　paddle…wheels　…　and　is　then　run　into

a　rough　house；　all　rugged　beams　and　ladders　splashed　with　white；　…

superintended　by　Grindoff　the　Miller　in　his　working　clothes；　all

splashed　with　white；　…　where　it　passes　through　no　end　of　machinery…

moved　sieves　all　splashed　with　white；　arranged　in　an　ascending

scale　of　fineness　（some　so　fine；　that　three　hundred　silk　threads

cross　each　other　in　a　single　square　inch　of　their　surface）；　and　all

in　a　violent　state　of　ague　with　their　teeth　for　ever　chattering；

and　their　bodies　for　ever　shivering！　　And　as　to　the　flint　again；

isn't　it　mashed　and　mollified　and　troubled　and　soothed；　exactly　as

rags　are　in　a　paper…mill；　until　it　is　reduced　to　a　pap　so　fine　that

it　contains　no　atom　of　'grit'　perceptible　to　the　nicest　taste？　　And

as　to　the　flint　and　the　clay　together；　are　they　not；　after　all

this；　mixed　in　the　proportion　of　five　of　clay　to　one　of　flint；　and

isn't　the　compound　…　known　as　'slip'　…　run　into　oblong　troughs；

where　its　superfluous　moisture　may　evaporate；　and　finally；　isn't　it

slapped　and　banged　and　beaten　and　patted　and　kneaded　and　wedged　and

knocked　about　like　butter；　until　it　becomes　a　beautiful　grey　dough；

ready　for　the　potter's　use？



In　regard　of　the　potter；　popularly　so　called　（says　the　plate）；　you

don't　mean　to　say　you　have　forgotten　that　a　workman　called　a

Thrower　is　the　man　under　whose　hand　this　grey　dough　takes　the

shapes　of　the　simpler　household　vessels　as　quickly　as　the　eye　can

follow？　　You　don't　mean　to　say　you　cannot　call　him　up　before　you；

sitting；　with　his　attendant　woman；　at　his　potter's　wheel　…　a　disc

about　the　size　of　a　dinner…plate；　revolving　on　two　drums　slowly　or

quickly　as　he　wills　…　who　made　you　a　complete　breakfast…set　for　a

bachelor；　as　a　good…humoured　little　off…hand　joke？　　You　remember

how　he　took　up　as　much　dough　as　he　wanted；　and；　throwing　it　on　his

wheel；　in　a　moment　fashioned　it　into　a　teacup　…　caught　up　more　clay

and　made　a　saucer　…　a　larger　dab　and　whirled　it　into　a　teapot　…

winked　at　a　smaller　dab　and　converted　it　into　the　lid　of　the

teapot；　accurately　fitting　by　the　measurement　of　his　eye　alone　…

coaxed　a　middle…sized　dab　for　two　seconds；　broke　it；　turned　it　over

at　the　rim；　and　made　a　milkpot　…　laughed；　and　turned　out　a　slop…

basin　…　coughed；　and　provided　for　the　sugar？　　Neither；　I　think；　are

you　oblivious　of　the　newer　mode　of　making　various　articles；　but

especially　basins；　according　to　which　improvement　a　mould　revolves

instead　of　a　disc？　　For　you　MUST　remember　（says　the　plate）　how　you

saw　the　mould　of　a　little　basin　spinning　round　and　round；　and　how

the　workmen　smoothed　and　pressed　a　handful　of　dough　upon　it；　and

how　with　an　instrument　called　a　profile　（a　piece　of　wood；

representing　the　profile　of　a　basin's　foot）　he　cleverly　scraped　and

carved　the　ring　which　makes　the　base　of　any　such　basin；　and　then

took　the　basin　off　the　lathe　like　a　doughy　skull…cap　to　be　dried；

and　afterwards　（in　what　is　called　a　green　state）　to　be　put　into　a

second　lathe；　there　to　be　finished　and　burnished　with　a　steel

burnisher？　　And　as　to　moulding　in　general　（says　the　plate）；　it

can't　be　necessary　for　me　to　remind　you　that　all　ornamental

articles；　and　indeed　all　articles　not　quite　circular；　are　made　in

moulds。　　For　you　must　remember　how　you　saw　the　vegetable　dishes；

for　example；　being　made　in　moulds；　and　how　the　handles　of　teacups；

and　the　spouts　of　teapots；　and　the　feet　of　tureens；　and　so　forth；

are　all　made　in　little　separate　moulds；　and　are　each　stuck　on　to

the　body　corporate；　of　which　it　is　destined　to　form　a　part；　with　a

stuff　called　'slag；'　as　quickly　as　you　can　recollect　it。　　Further；

you　learnt　…　you　know　you　did　…　in　the　same　visit；　how　the

beautiful　sculptures　in　the　delicate　new　material　called　Parian；

are　all　constructed　in　moulds；　how；　into　that　material；　animal

bones　are　ground　up；　because　the　phosphate　of　lime　contained　in

bones　makes　it　translucent；　how　everything　is　moulded；　before　going

into　the　fire；　one…fourth　larger　than　it　is　intended　to　come　out　of

the　fire；　because　it　shrinks　in　that　proportion　in　the　intense

heat；　how；　when　a　figure　shrinks　unequally；　it　is　spoiled　…

emerging　from　the　furnace　a　misshapen　birth；　a　big　head　and　a

little　body；　or　a　little　head　and　a　big　body；　or　a　Quasimodo　with

long　arms　and　short　legs；　or　a　Miss　Biffin　with　neither　legs　nor

arms　worth　mentioning。



And　as　to　the　Kilns；　in　which　the　firing　takes　place；　and　in　which

some　of　the　more　precious　articles　are　burnt　repeatedly；　in　various

stages　of　their　process　towards　completion；　…　as　to　the　Kilns　（says

the　plate；　warming　with　the　recollection）；　if　you　don't　remember

THEM　with　a　horrible　interest；　what　did　you　ever　go　to　Copeland's

for？　　When　you　stood　inside　of　one　of　those　inverted　bowls　of　a

Pre…Adamite　tobacco…pipe；　looking　up　at　the　blue　sky　through　the

open　top　far　off；　as　you　might　have　looked　up　from　a　well；　sunk

under　the　centre　of　the　pavement　of　the　Pantheon　at　Rome；　had　you

the　least　idea　where　you　were？　　And　when　you　found　yourself

surrounded；　in　that　dome…shaped　cavern；　by　innumerable　columns　of

an　unearthly　order　of　architecture；　supporting　nothing；　and

squeezed　close　together　as　if　a　Pre…Adamite　Samson　had　taken　a　vast

Hall　in　his　arms　and　crushed　it　into　the　smallest　possible　space；

had　you　the　least　idea　what　they　were？　　No　（says　the　plate）；　of

course　not！　　And　when　you　found　that　each　of　those　pillars　was　a

pile　of　ingeniously　made　vessels　of　coarse　clay　…　called　Saggers　…

looking；　when　separate；　like　raised…pies　for　the　table　of　the

mighty　Giant　Blunderbore；　and　now　all　full　of　various　articles　of

pottery　ranged　in　them　in　baking　order；　the　bottom　of　each　vessel

serving　for　the　cover　of　the　one　below；　and　the　whole　Kiln　rapidly

filling　with　these；　tier　upon　tier；　until　the　last　workman　should

have　barely　room　to　crawl　out；　before　the　closing　of　the　jagged

aperture　in　the　wall　and　the　kindling　of　the　gradual　fire；　did　you

not　stand　amazed　to　think　that　all　the　year　round　these　dread

chambers　are　heating；　white　hot　…　and　cooling　…　and　filling　…　and