How porcelain came to Europe
Among the new items brought back from China to Europe in the 1600s was a unique white material called porcelain. Translucent and far more elegant than the standard pottery or stoneware plates of Europe, it was a marvel. Rare and sought after by kings and princes, it was worth its weight in gold or even more. Indeed, it was called “white gold.”
Collectors sought after it much like earlier times had seen the Dutch chase rare and exotic tulips. It does seem that mankind will go to great lengths to pursue and pay high prices for an item that for some reason becomes “collectable.” From stamps and coins to Star Wars memorabilia and My Little Pony, people collect all sorts of items. One collector of porcelain able to afford more that most was Augustus II, Elector of Saxony, part of Germany that borders on the north of what would be Czechoslovakia.
The king was an avid collector of the very expensive Chinese porcelain. He dedicated a room in his Dresden Castle to display his collection.
Augustus was also interested in alchemy, the making of gold from base metals. An idea long now discarded, alchemy was then a leading science with many royal patrons. The patrons were wary that a successful find by an alchemist would see the alchemist flee the patron and setup on his own or share the secret with another ruler. To prevent this, the well-paid alchemists were often kept locked up in castle labs and very closely watched to insure that the patron would reap the rewards of the discovery. The alchemists became birds in gilded cages.
The Elector of Saxony gave Ehrenfried Walther von Tschirnhaus, a philosopher of some note, the task of finding the secret of porcelain. Tschirnhaus took under his wing a young man who had boasted that he was close to solving the mystery of alchemy, a certain Johann Friedrich Böttger. The Elector and Tschirnhaus provided a lab, a place to live, and all the needs of this young man, all under strict 24/7 watch.
When months passed, the young man chaffed under the strict rules and limited freedom and unsuccessfully tried to escape. He was soon caught and returned to his cage.
As more months went by, it became obvious to the king that the young man was no further to solving the mystery than he had been at the start. Rather than dismiss him, the king gave Tschirnhaus and Böttger a new task.
They would no longer search for the secret of turning base metal into gold. The new task was to develop a way to make porcelain as fine as the imported Chinese porcelain. If the Chinese could do it there was no reason why Germans could not produce the same product, even better and more suited to European tastes.
It soon became apparent that two things were critical. The first was the clay from which an object could be made. The second was the firing of the clay – the temperature and length of time the object had to stay in the kiln. Lacking modern tools of analysis, both of these could only be done by trial and error. A new gilded cage in a new castle, new guards, and new equipment would keep the young man on track. In another escape attempt he successfully got over the border to another country. Even so, the soldiers of Augustus found him and returned him to Dresden.
From far and wide, samples of European clay were delivered to the lab in Meissen and fired for different times and temperatures. After years, Tschirnhaus was successful in making a similar product but it was red in colour. Close, but not quite…
Tschirnhaus was finally successful using clay obtained from the Colditz area. A short time later, he died.
Not deterred, Böttger broke into Tschirnhaus’ home and obtained notes giving the type of clay and firing process. After trying things out, he notified the king of the successful outcome and claimed credit.
A factory funded by the king was built in Meissen in 1710 with Böttger in charge. Meissen Porcelain was born.
The king enjoyed the money from the sale of this new product to royal and noble houses throughout Europe and, being an avid collector, he took many of the best pieces to add to his collection. Being king and all, he did not pay for the items he took to sell or for sale to other rulers.
In a short few decades France, Britain, and Italy were able to duplicate the product. By then, the Meissen factory had failed mostly due to the many unpaid items the king had taken for his collection or for sale. Embroiled in political unrest at home and threatened by other states, Augustus lost his throne.
When Meissen was occupied by Prussia during the Seven Years War the factory was reestablished. By the 1830s, the factory was owned by the State of Saxony.
Centuries later, after the Second World War had ended, Meissen found itself in the Soviet zone of Germany. Much of the equipment of the factory was taken by the Soviets but enough remained for small production. With the fall of the Soviet regime, the factory was returned to the German State of Saxony.
Meissen Porcelain remains very expensive and collectible to this day. The real Meissen (save for very early examples) bears a maker’s mark of crossed swords on its base but forgeries abound.
Prices can range to well over $500,000 for older larger pieces. Yet one can start a small collection for under $100. Some traditional styles – the monkey orchestra, for example – continue in production with older (1700s) individual pieces fetching over $5,000 and recently make authentic reproductions by Meissen for one fifth of that or even less. Copies can go for much less. There are eBay ads that use phrases like “Meissenlike” or ”Vintage”, often with the name of another maker.
And forgeries are often seen of the more expensive items, some from the infamous forgery Chinese city of Suzhou. These may or may not bear maker’s marks that differ from the crossed words. Sorting through all this takes a real expert and even they have been proven wrong on occasion.
Rare is the person who never collects anything. Collecting is a very popular hobby, from the traditional stamps and coins to the expensive cars of Jay Leno and Clive Cussler, the paintings of well known artists, to inexpensive or free bottle caps, matchbooks, napkins, postcards, and rocks.
I recall reading of one fellow who collected oil rags!
On not infrequent occasions, these collections outgrow the homes of the collector, bordering on hoarding.
Collections of cookbooks numbering in the thousands have been donated to many universities. Another book collector I knew was told she had to divest of at least half of her books or her house would collapse. As an ardent collector myself, I understand this malady all too well.