fashion for these beverages. But here too there
were drawbacks. The porous nature of the earthenware body meant that if there were the slightest chip—and lead glaze is extremely
easily chipped—the body would not be watertight.
In the Far East tea was brewed in a kettle and served cooled in small handleless porcelain cups. Purchas noted how tea was
brewed in the Orient and wrote in 1613 “they put as much as a Walnut-shell may containe, into a dish of Porcelane, and drinke
it with hot water.” Noting that the unenlightened Europeans preferred to serve their exotic product from a pot, the Chinese
saw the potential for yet another lucrative Western market, and began making pots for export from their own Yixing red stoneware,
probably based on shapes copied from silver or delftware pots made in Europe.
When China's copies of European forms were seen by Böttger, he borrowed them back, realizing that his material was even finer
than Chinese stoneware and equally well able to withstand the rigors of boiling water. Thus the circle of fashion revolved
in a curious cross-pollination of ideas and customs: a design from Europe was transported to China and then welcomed back
to Europe again.
Augustus was a great admirer of his new factory's imitations of exotic Chinese stoneware—he already had a vast collection.
He was even more delighted when Böttger presented him with “a very fine red vessel, which in every way equals the so-called
red porcelain of the East Indies, surpassing marble and porphyry in its hardness and beauty.” And as with so many luxuries,
his appetite for red porcelain grew voraciously. While output steadily increased, alarming quantities were appropriated by
the king. Augustus, ever a lover of ostentation, ordered Böttger to make extra large pieces for his palaces; vases sixty centimeters
high and dishes half a meter in diameter were produced as royal commissions. In all some eight hundred pieces were acquired
for Augustus's own collection and in addition large quantities were given away to visiting princes and dignitaries by the
king—ever eager to show off the peerless products of his new factory.
As patron of the factory Augustus could buy porcelain and stoneware at vastly discounted prices. Despite this advantage he
rarely troubled to pay anything for his acquisitions, regarding them as one of the justifiable perks of his investment. The
outstanding sums compounded Böttger's financial problems even further. Increases in production had still not helped the factory
to make a profit. A year and a half after the opening of the Meissen factory, even though nearly thirteen thousand pieces
of stoneware were stored in the stockroom ready for sale and a showroom had opened for visitors to come and buy the products,
Steinbrück calculated that outgoings were 50 percent higher than earnings.
The chief reason for the losses, which Böttger, locked in Dresden, failed to perceive, was the corruption with which the factory
was riddled from top to bottom. At the top of the tree, Michael Nehmitz, head of the commission, was almost certainly the
worst culprit. He was prone to keeping for himself the money given by Augustus to help with the factory running costs, and
was also not above selling prize pieces of stoneware at Leipzig and stealing the proceeds. The factory's accountant, Mathis,
was similarly corrupt and he too was caught selling Meissen stoneware at Leipzig and pocketing the cash. Of the top directorate
only Steinbrück the supervisor and Bartholmäi the physician were immune from such chicanery. Further down the chain of command
there were similar tales of theft and double-dealing, some of which would have dire repercussions for the future of the factory.
The ingenuity of Böttger's inventions, so flamboyantly announced by the king, had aroused extraordinary jealousies in rivals
throughout Europe. Even before porcelain was widely available there
were drawbacks. The porous nature of the earthenware body meant that if there were the slightest chip—and lead glaze is extremely
easily chipped—the body would not be watertight.
In the Far East tea was brewed in a kettle and served cooled in small handleless porcelain cups. Purchas noted how tea was
brewed in the Orient and wrote in 1613 “they put as much as a Walnut-shell may containe, into a dish of Porcelane, and drinke
it with hot water.” Noting that the unenlightened Europeans preferred to serve their exotic product from a pot, the Chinese
saw the potential for yet another lucrative Western market, and began making pots for export from their own Yixing red stoneware,
probably based on shapes copied from silver or delftware pots made in Europe.
When China's copies of European forms were seen by Böttger, he borrowed them back, realizing that his material was even finer
than Chinese stoneware and equally well able to withstand the rigors of boiling water. Thus the circle of fashion revolved
in a curious cross-pollination of ideas and customs: a design from Europe was transported to China and then welcomed back
to Europe again.
Augustus was a great admirer of his new factory's imitations of exotic Chinese stoneware—he already had a vast collection.
He was even more delighted when Böttger presented him with “a very fine red vessel, which in every way equals the so-called
red porcelain of the East Indies, surpassing marble and porphyry in its hardness and beauty.” And as with so many luxuries,
his appetite for red porcelain grew voraciously. While output steadily increased, alarming quantities were appropriated by
the king. Augustus, ever a lover of ostentation, ordered Böttger to make extra large pieces for his palaces; vases sixty centimeters
high and dishes half a meter in diameter were produced as royal commissions. In all some eight hundred pieces were acquired
for Augustus's own collection and in addition large quantities were given away to visiting princes and dignitaries by the
king—ever eager to show off the peerless products of his new factory.
As patron of the factory Augustus could buy porcelain and stoneware at vastly discounted prices. Despite this advantage he
rarely troubled to pay anything for his acquisitions, regarding them as one of the justifiable perks of his investment. The
outstanding sums compounded Böttger's financial problems even further. Increases in production had still not helped the factory
to make a profit. A year and a half after the opening of the Meissen factory, even though nearly thirteen thousand pieces
of stoneware were stored in the stockroom ready for sale and a showroom had opened for visitors to come and buy the products,
Steinbrück calculated that outgoings were 50 percent higher than earnings.
The chief reason for the losses, which Böttger, locked in Dresden, failed to perceive, was the corruption with which the factory
was riddled from top to bottom. At the top of the tree, Michael Nehmitz, head of the commission, was almost certainly the
worst culprit. He was prone to keeping for himself the money given by Augustus to help with the factory running costs, and
was also not above selling prize pieces of stoneware at Leipzig and stealing the proceeds. The factory's accountant, Mathis,
was similarly corrupt and he too was caught selling Meissen stoneware at Leipzig and pocketing the cash. Of the top directorate
only Steinbrück the supervisor and Bartholmäi the physician were immune from such chicanery. Further down the chain of command
there were similar tales of theft and double-dealing, some of which would have dire repercussions for the future of the factory.
The ingenuity of Böttger's inventions, so flamboyantly announced by the king, had aroused extraordinary jealousies in rivals
throughout Europe. Even before porcelain was widely available there
Similar Books
