290 
For the Monthly Magazine. 
« |THE STAFFORDSHIRE POTLERIES, 
[The following description of a district, 
—which, though of first-rate commercial 
importance, has hitherto been slightly 
~ noticed’ by topographers,—forms one 
of a series of Letters, addressed to a 
friend, during atour through the mid- 
land counties, in the summer of 1823.] 
UITTING Lichfield, about the 
middle of July, we pursued our 
journey towards the northern extre- 
mity of Staffordshire, through some of 
the most luxuriant scenery I ever be- 
held. I have been rather concise in 
my description of the ancient city we 
left behind; because I know that the 
theme would harmonize but indiffe- 
rently with your reprobate democra- 
tical principles, and that dissertations 
upon its antiquity, the beauty of its 
cathedral, and the proverbial loyalty 
of its inhabitants, would be but frigidly 
perused by one who has little reve- 
rence for episcopacy, inclines strongly 
to the anti-monarchical principle, and 
' deenis all antiquarian researches mere 
foolery, when set in competition with 
enquiries into the principles of steam- 
engines, gas-works, and iron-bridges. 
I pass, therefore, at once, to a more 
congenial topic, viz. the potteries of 
Staffordshire, which present to the sci- 
entific observer an infinite variety of 
his favourite objects of contemplation. 
After passing a delightful morning in 
strolling over the beautiful domain of 
Trentham, which art and nature have 
combined their efforts to adorn, I pro- 
ceeded on foot to pay a visit to the 
potteries, at a few miles distance. 
The appearance of this seat of indus- 
try, viewed from the neighbouring emi- 
nences, is so extremely striking, that 
I scarcely feel able to describe it, but 
Byron shall do it for me,— 
“’Tis a most living landscape; midst the 
wave, 
Of woods and corn fields, stand the abodes 
of man, 
Scatter’d at intervals, and clouds of smoke, 
Arising from ten thousand roofs.” 
Your eye embraces at one view a 
variety of large towns, villages, and 
manufactories, sifuated in a fertile 
plain, and spreading far away into‘the 
distance, to the extent of ten or twelve 
miles, surmounted by a canopy of 
smoke so dense, that the lurid cloud 
which eternally overhangs the metro- 
polis, seems, in comparison, but a 
rarefied vapour. You must not, how- 
The Staffordshire Potteries. 
[Nov. 1, 
ever, imagine, when I speak of their 
extending ten or twelve miles, that the 
whole space is closely built over; on 
the contrary, it is occupied by several 
distinct towns, though the roads of 
communication between them, sprink- 
led more or less thickly with habita- 
tions and manufactories, form in every 
direction connecting links, and render 
them in fact but one community. The 
first of these you arrive at, journeying 
northwards, is called Lane End, the 
road from which leads directly through 
the heart of the other pottery-towns, 
the principal of which are Lane Delft, 
Fenton, Stoke-upon-Trent, Cobridge, 
Etruria, Shelton, Hanley, and Burs- 
lem; terminating northwards at a place 
called Green Lane, on the borders of 
Cheshire. Inthe surrounding country 
they are spoken Of collectively, by the 
general appellation of The Pottery. 
On entering these towns, the first 
peculiarity that arrests the stranger’s 
attention is the irregular and straggling 
style in which they are built; for, hay- 
ing mostof them sprung up from small 
beginnings into their present magni- 
tude, in less than half a century, the 
additions have been made from time to 
time just as necessity demanded, but 
without any determinate plan, or the 
slightest regard. to appearance and 
orderly arrangement. The result has 
been the strangest confusion that ’tis 
possible to conceive. Milton’s line, 
“ Wild, without rule ¢¢ art,” 
was never before half so happily illus- 
trated. The contrasts of meanness 
and magnificence which meet the view 
are equally striking ; the humble hut of 
the artisan stands in immediate con- 
tact with the palace of his employer, 
and splendid mansions rear their heads 
amid the sulphureous fumes and va- 
pours of the reeking pot-works. Every 
thing, in short, announces that appear- 
ances are here quite a secondary con- 
sideration when opposed to utility, and 
that the genius of industry alone pre- 
sides; taste and elegance in the build- 
ings are therefore but little cherished 
at present. In many other respects, 
the aspect of the pottery-towns is 
equally singular, and strikingly pro- 
claims their recent origin. You pass, 
in two minutes, from a crowded street 
into a meadow or a corn-field; and, 
amidst shops and factories, you conti- 
nually stumble upon what was notlong 
since a farm-house, and which yet re- 
tains 
