The Arcanum (12 page)

The commission's power was thus for the time being dissolved, but Nehmitz managed to survive the reshuffle and remain in a
position of authority, from which he continued to plague Böttger. In a characteristically wily maneuver he invested in the
intermediary company, becoming one of the chief profiteers from Böttger's invention of porcelain, often at the unwitting and
impoverished Böttger's expense.

A year later and the vital new kiln was at last complete. Although few details about the early furnaces have come down to
us, we know that the extremely high temperatures needed to make porcelain had forced Böttger to design a new type of kiln
made from a totally unprecedented type of fireproof clay bricks, which he also, with typical ingenuity, developed. The early
kilns were small and cylindrical in shape, just over half a meter long and only thirty centimeters wide, and allowed only
small pieces of porcelain to be fired. Later versions were about ten times larger but functioned basically in the same way.
It is a remarkable testimony to the genius of Böttger that until the early nineteenth century no one could improve on his
design.

By now regular deliveries of the best white china clay from Schnorr's mine at Aue began to arrive in large shipments on ox-drawn
wagons. In the long term the supply of clay was by no means reliable. Schnorr's son, Hans Enoch, was an extremely devious
individual and it was not long before he began taking advantage of the Meissen factory's evident dependence on his clay whenever
the opportunity arose. Over the decades that followed he caused endless worry to Böttger and the factory's subsequent administrators
by arbitrarily raising the price of the clay whenever he thought he could get away with it. In the first decade alone the
price nearly doubled, and an exorbitant charge for delivery was also introduced. At the slightest sign of dissatisfaction
from Meissen, Schnorr made sure that no one forgot how vital his cooperation was by delaying deliveries at whim, dispatching
clay that was of inferior quality and therefore unworkable, and even supplying clay to rivals despite signing an agreement
that he would not sell anywhere else. In 1712, however, deliveries seemed assured, and Böttger was at last able to start the
long-awaited production of porcelain.

Steinbrück made regular tours of inspection in the increasingly busy Meissen factory. A highly sophisticated series of manufacturing
processes had been instituted, all of which required his vigilant supervision. The first stage of the laborious process of
turning raw clay and rock into objects of such unparalleled beauty that they would be worthy of a place in the most princely
of palaces was the preparation of the ingredients. China clay in its raw state is a brittle crumbly substance, containing
granules of feldspar, sand and other impurities, all of which, if not extracted, could ruin the even-textured appearance of
the finished porcelain objects and tarnish the color of the body. The clay therefore had first to be purified and refined.

This process relied on a linked system of basis through which water flowed at a steady speed. When the clay was churned with
running water in the first large vat, the heaviest, coarsest particles fell to the bottom while the finer-textured granules
needed for potting were held suspended in the water and moved on with the liquid to the next basin. Once all the particles
of sand and grit had been removed, the mixture was transformed back into a solid mass by passing it through filter presses
that allowed the surplus water to soak away and retained only the fine particles of kaolin. Meanwhile the solid alabaster
flux was first pummeled into a gravelly texture with large wooden pestles and then ground between stone-crushing rollers to
the consistency of powdery sugar.

The next stage, the compounding, was arguably the most critical part of the whole process. Carefully measured quantities of
the two key ingredients, kaolin and alabaster, were stirred together using a broad paddle in vast open vats until, at length,
a thoroughly mixed batter was produced. This creamy, soft paste was taken again to the filter presses where workers forced
it once through layers of mesh to extract superfluous water. Next the firmed paste was transported by apprentices to the damp
cellars of the Albrechtsburg, where, rather like pastry being left to become workable, it was allowed to rest for eight weeks
to allow its “plasticity,” or ability to be molded, to develop. Then it would be kneaded and pressed once more, to eliminate
any residual air bubbles, before finally it was ready for delivery to the factory modelers. Simple hollow shapes were turned
on a wheel; more complex objects were formed in sections in plaster of Paris molds and later assembled by the repairers, using
liquid porcelain paste instead of glue.

Having thus been formed into recognizable objects, the porcelain was then left in a storage room for up to three months to
air-dry. During this time each piece became 15 percent smaller due to the loss of moisture. It was vital that the process
should take place slowly, for if the paste dried too quickly the shrinkage caused by sudden water loss created cracks in its
surface.

Now looking white and slightly powdery in appearance, the objects were given an initial firing at a temperature of 800° C
to improve their strength and absorbency before glazing. Böttger's glaze was made from the same components as the porcelain
body, with a higher proportion of alabaster, so that the process of vitrification which took place during firing of the paste
mirrored the changes that took place in the glaze. Once glazed, each piece was stacked into cases of heat-resistant clay known
as saggars, which would protect them from the flames, furnace debris and uneven heat. The fire was then lit and fed until
a temperature of 1450° C was reached, at which point the flames were left gently to subside and the kiln was allowed slowly
to cool. In the absence of thermometers, judging the temperature of the kiln required a high degree of skill: too much or
too little heat and the kiln's precious contents would be ruined. By now Böttger had greatly improved the design of the kilns
and Steinbrück mentions that after 1713 they were “a completely new and special invention… in which the air and fire join,
and through an extreme draught it look more like fiery air than a proper fire which you would find in an oven.” Steinbrück
may not have understood how in the intense heat the glaze formed a transparent molten substance that fused with the vitrified
porcelain beneath. Allowed to cool, this surface layer formed an extremely hard transparent surface over the semitranslucent
body beneath. But it was clear that the glaze Böttger had invented was thus quite literally a skin of molten rock over the
flesh and bones of clay and rock beneath.

Unless deliberately tinted in some way, porcelain is, by its very essence, white. But within this uniform whiteness, porcelains
made in varying ages, in disparate countries or in individual factories all have a distinctive tonality. If you gaze long
and hard enough at a white glazed porcelain dish made by Böttger and compare it with a similar piece of plain white glazed
porcelain made in China you will discern distinctive tinges within the whiteness of each. The subtle shades, whether pearly,
or gray, or bluish or yellow, are created by the inevitable variations in the mineral content of the clay and other materials
used in the production methods. As experts in wine can detect a characteristic vintage from the color, bouquet and taste of
an anonymous flux of Bordeaux or Burgundy, so the nuances in shades of porcelain enable experts visually to identify its origins.

Oriental porcelain, as Böttger recognized, tends to have a slightly bluish hue—a characteristic caused partly by the fact
that in China and Japan potters use a feldspathic rock called petuntse rather than alabaster as the flux. The porcelain Böttger
had so far created using alabaster had in contrast a faintly discernible lemon tinge. To modern taste this brings a rather
pleasant softness to the icy whiteness, but to Böttger and to Augustus, who judged success against the achievements of Oriental
potters, the aim was still to produce a whiter body, closer to that of the Chinese and Japanese. Measured against the yardstick
of Oriental ceramics, the even more important hurdle that now confronted Böttger was the development of colored decoration.

Painting on ceramics can be achieved in three different ways. The easiest, most obvious method is to paint straight onto the
glaze after the piece has been fired. This technique, called lacquering or cold enameling, was used, rather crudely, to adorn
some of the white porcelain on sale at the Leipzig fair, but its big disadvantage was that any paint applied cold to a glaze
has only the most tenuous hold and is easily worn away. It became quickly apparent to both Böttger and the king that the successful
development of fired enameling was essential for the success of Meissen's revolutionary porcelain.

Enameling on any ceramic whether pottery or porcelain entails subjecting the colored decoration to heat. The colors, made
from various metal oxide pigments mixed with glass, are applied to the glazed body after the main high temperature firing,
and fired at low temperatures that allow the oxides to maintain their various shades and melt sufficiently to be absorbed
into the transparent glaze beneath. The main problem with enameling, as far as Böttger was concerned, was that since every
shade is comprised of a different compound, all of which have to be identified and tested at different temperatures, each
color posed a separate and formidable challenge.

A still more exacting way to decorate porcelain is to paint it under the glaze. Here the decoration is painted onto the porcelain
body while it is in its unglazed “biscuit” state and the object is then glazed and fired in the usual way. Underglaze decoration
is the most resilient of all ways to adorn porcelain, for however delicate and fragile the images of exotic gardens or elegantly
clad courtiers may be, all are safely protected beneath an impenetrable layer of glaze which forms a window to the exquisite
designs beneath.

But such a technique is beset with difficulty. The color used has to be incredibly resistant to temperature, for it will be
exposed to the full force of the furnace (within its saggar). In such extreme conditions the metallic compound used to create
the color must transmute to the shade required but also remain stable. One tiny mistake in the mixing or the temperature of
firing and the color becomes unrecognizable or the decoration bleeds into the glaze and the sharpness of the design is lost.

Almost four centuries before Böttger began his experiments to find a way of achieving underglaze color, the potters of Jingdezhen
in eastern China had discovered underglaze decoration using cobalt oxide, which produced a rich blue tone when fired. The
technique spread also to Korea and Japan, where underglazed blue porcelain was produced in the Arita district of Kyushu island
from the early seventeenth century. By Böttger's day Oriental potters had achieved an extraordinary mastery of this technique,
and were using it both alone, to create the characteristic blue and white color scheme, and in combination with overglaze
enamels to create rich multicolored designs. Thus the vast majority of imported porcelain that Augustus admired and hankered
after was adorned in this way.

As far as Augustus was concerned, Böttger's achievement in creating porcelain remained incomplete unless he could produce
underglaze blue and enamels to decorate it. This, as it turned out, was to be a challenge almost as elusive as that of producing
gold.

There's a joy without canker or cark,
There's a pleasure eternally new,
'Tis to gloat on the glaze and the mark
Of china that's
ancient and blue.

A
NDREW
L
ANG,
Ballade of Blue China,
1880

A
ll things, wrote Shelley, are subjects of fate, time, occasion, chance and change. An improbable configuration of unusual
circumstance and extraordinary talent shaped Böttger's life and molded his personality, but in trying to define the essence
of his character one is confronted by a tantalizingly contradictory picture: a man of chameleon temperament, an improbable
mélange of moodiness, sentimentality, intellectual objectivity and grace. Dashingly brave on occasion, yet on others irresolute,
wanton and weak; a graciously charming bon vivant; a drunken dissolute wreck; but always a meticulous chemist of inspired
ability.

Discrepancies in portraits and medallions of Böttger echo the contradictions within his character. The only known portrait
made within his lifetime portrays him ill and close to death. He is shown creased with care in stern profile with jutting
jaw, lips set in a determined grimace, eyes haunted by unfathomable fantasies. But in other, posthumous portraits his image
presages the ultimate Byronic hero; he is a romantic libertine, a rakish figure with windswept curls, full-blooded sensual
mouth and eyes ablaze with zealous spirit.