porcelain the like of which had never before been produced in Europe.
Gently picking up the tiniest of tea bowls, they perhaps held them aloft to the sun's soft radiance, exclaiming in delight
as the light penetrated the wonderfully fine translucent body. They lingered over small beakers applied with a trelliswork
of naturalistic leaves and flowers, remarking admiringly to one another on their sparkling glazed surface. These pieces were
highly priced, but, as the fair's sophisticated clientele would doubtless have recognized, in every sphere of art the most
exquisite novelties command a premium. This, after all, was a historic occasion: the first time that true porcelain made in
Europe had ever been openly offered for sale.
The Leipzig fair, a magnet for the most sophisticated of eighteenth-century audiences, was the natural place for Augustus's
porcelain wares to make their debut. Its patrons—pleasure-loving royal princes, affluent aristocrats and the well-to-do—all
came to acquire the latest in furniture, glass, metalwork, ceramics, textiles and much else besides. It was, said Lady Mary
Wortley Montagu, “one of the most considerable [fairs] in Germany, and the resort of all the people of quality, as well as
the merchants.” Her visit was used to stock up on essentials such as “pages' liveries, gold stuffs for myself, 'c, all things
of that kind.”
At previous fairs these discerning customers might have glimpsed a handful of white porcelain pieces displayed alongside the
red stoneware objects. These had been no more than exhibition curiosities, a tantalizing presage of things to come, not for
sale. But now visitors could not only admire, they could also buy. They could take home with them a set of sparkling tea bowls
and daintily sip tea, content in the knowledge that these superior vessels had been made in Saxony, at the factory belonging
to the most illustrious king in Germany. The royal cachet of such objects significantly enhanced their appeal to the fashion-obsessed
visitors at the fair. Little wonder then that the elegant shoppers found themselves unable to resist such novelties and, much
to Böttger's delight, the orders and sales for his “white gold” began to flood in.
Böttger's first significant success at the Leipzig fair of 1713 had been a hard-won victory. In 1711, a little over a year
after the factory's inauguration, Meissen's dire monetary problems had forced the king to set up yet another special commission
at which Böttger was called on to explain the hopeless financial morass into which the factory had plummeted. Böttger found
himself confronted by a largely unsympathetic panel, though he took courage from the fact that among his inquisitors he recognized
the friendly faces of the scrupulously fair-minded factory supervisor, Johann Melchior Steinbrück, and Dr. Bartholmäi, also
a zealously committed supporter of the factory.
Böttger refused to be browbeaten and presented a strong case in his own defense. As far as he was concerned, the problems
stemmed mainly from the king's erratic financing of the factory, which he had endorsed so publicly and with such pomp and
ceremony only twelve months earlier. Large-scale porcelain production would never get under way unless the new kiln was built
as had been promised. More to the point, the kiln could not be built until there was money to pay for it. In addition, the
kilns could not be fired without a reliable supply of timber. At present fuel was only erratically delivered and ridiculously
expensive. Moreover, the successful manufacture of white porcelain was entirely reliant on a plentiful supply of the necessary
materials, in particular kaolin. Clay from Colditz was proving unpredictable; and Böttger urged Bartholmäi to establish a
regular contract for delivery of Hans Schnorr's clay from Aue, which was far superior in quality and purity and performed
far better in test firing.
Gently picking up the tiniest of tea bowls, they perhaps held them aloft to the sun's soft radiance, exclaiming in delight
as the light penetrated the wonderfully fine translucent body. They lingered over small beakers applied with a trelliswork
of naturalistic leaves and flowers, remarking admiringly to one another on their sparkling glazed surface. These pieces were
highly priced, but, as the fair's sophisticated clientele would doubtless have recognized, in every sphere of art the most
exquisite novelties command a premium. This, after all, was a historic occasion: the first time that true porcelain made in
Europe had ever been openly offered for sale.
The Leipzig fair, a magnet for the most sophisticated of eighteenth-century audiences, was the natural place for Augustus's
porcelain wares to make their debut. Its patrons—pleasure-loving royal princes, affluent aristocrats and the well-to-do—all
came to acquire the latest in furniture, glass, metalwork, ceramics, textiles and much else besides. It was, said Lady Mary
Wortley Montagu, “one of the most considerable [fairs] in Germany, and the resort of all the people of quality, as well as
the merchants.” Her visit was used to stock up on essentials such as “pages' liveries, gold stuffs for myself, 'c, all things
of that kind.”
At previous fairs these discerning customers might have glimpsed a handful of white porcelain pieces displayed alongside the
red stoneware objects. These had been no more than exhibition curiosities, a tantalizing presage of things to come, not for
sale. But now visitors could not only admire, they could also buy. They could take home with them a set of sparkling tea bowls
and daintily sip tea, content in the knowledge that these superior vessels had been made in Saxony, at the factory belonging
to the most illustrious king in Germany. The royal cachet of such objects significantly enhanced their appeal to the fashion-obsessed
visitors at the fair. Little wonder then that the elegant shoppers found themselves unable to resist such novelties and, much
to Böttger's delight, the orders and sales for his “white gold” began to flood in.
Böttger's first significant success at the Leipzig fair of 1713 had been a hard-won victory. In 1711, a little over a year
after the factory's inauguration, Meissen's dire monetary problems had forced the king to set up yet another special commission
at which Böttger was called on to explain the hopeless financial morass into which the factory had plummeted. Böttger found
himself confronted by a largely unsympathetic panel, though he took courage from the fact that among his inquisitors he recognized
the friendly faces of the scrupulously fair-minded factory supervisor, Johann Melchior Steinbrück, and Dr. Bartholmäi, also
a zealously committed supporter of the factory.
Böttger refused to be browbeaten and presented a strong case in his own defense. As far as he was concerned, the problems
stemmed mainly from the king's erratic financing of the factory, which he had endorsed so publicly and with such pomp and
ceremony only twelve months earlier. Large-scale porcelain production would never get under way unless the new kiln was built
as had been promised. More to the point, the kiln could not be built until there was money to pay for it. In addition, the
kilns could not be fired without a reliable supply of timber. At present fuel was only erratically delivered and ridiculously
expensive. Moreover, the successful manufacture of white porcelain was entirely reliant on a plentiful supply of the necessary
materials, in particular kaolin. Clay from Colditz was proving unpredictable; and Böttger urged Bartholmäi to establish a
regular contract for delivery of Hans Schnorr's clay from Aue, which was far superior in quality and purity and performed
far better in test firing.
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