The Arcanum (9 page)

Without Tschirnhaus the king lacked a reliable and well-informed advisor whom he trusted and who could understand the practicalities
of porcelain-making. To resolve the matter, therefore, Augustus appointed a commission of five expert investigators to advise
him: among them were the unsympathetic Michael Nehmitz and Böttger's old ally Pabst von Ohain.

Böttger meticulously explained his vision. The red clay he needed for the red porcelain or stoneware was from Zwickau or Nuremberg;
it would be mixed with clay from Plauen. The paste for the porcelain would be made by mixing alabaster from Nordhausen with
white clay from Colditz. He envisaged a central administration with control over various different branches. Each of the processes—the
mixing, the modeling, the firing and the decorating—could be conducted in a different place, thereby safeguarding the secret,
for it would be difficult for any one worker to gain insight into anything outside his own specialty.

As for the question of what he would make from his newly invented substance: Böttger always regarded porcelain as a precious
material on a par with gold or silver, having little in common with other forms of ceramics, which were essentially utilitarian.
In a document submitted to the commission he explained his idea of what would make these objects desirable: “Firstly beauty,
secondly rarity, and thirdly the usefulness that is bound to both of these. These three qualities make an object agreeable,
valuable and needed.” To Böttger, porcelain objects were to be first and foremost works of art of supreme and exclusive beauty;
function was a minor detail, a foil for the intrinsic beauty of the object.

Böttger's staunch outward enthusiasm for the porcelain venture belied his wildly vacillating state of mind. Although optimistic
in his dealings with the commission, at times he was overwhelmed with despair at the kings demands for gold. He had abandoned
gold-making in the hope that porcelain would satisfy Augustus and earn him his freedom, but the king clearly would not let
the matter drop.

There were worrying tales of the gruesome fate of a fellow alchemist in Berlin. After Böttger's escape, the Prussian King
Frederick, realizing that the chances of recapturing the fugitive were slender, had employed a Neapolitan alchemist by the
name of Domenicho Manuel Caetano who had made a lucrative if perilous career out of demonstrating transmutations in many of
the courts of Europe. Unbeknownst to Frederick, Caetano had mysteriously disappeared from Brussels after having been advanced
60,000 gulden against his promise of multiplying that sum in gold. From there he had gone on to Vienna and then to Berlin,
where he assured the Prussian king that he had found a cache of manuscripts belonging to an unknown alchemist which included
details of how to make the philosopher's stone. In return for Caetano's promise to make gold within sixty days, Frederick
advanced generous amounts of money, presents and privileges. Predictably, when the sixty days of good living were drawing
to a close, Caetano tried to escape—this time to Hamburg—but Frederick sent soldiers after him and he was captured, brought
back to Prussia and imprisoned. In August 1709, having finally exposed Caetano beyond a doubt as a charlatan, Frederick ordered
that, as an example to all would-be fraudsters, he be dressed in a robe of gaudily woven golden thread and hanged on the city's
gallows, especially decorated for the occasion with gilded spangles and tinsel. As a final reminder Frederick gave instructions
that a gold medal be struck to commemorate the event.

Although, like Augustus, Böttger remained convinced that an arcanum for gold could be found, he must have known that he was
not much closer to finding it than he had been ten years earlier while an apprentice in Berlin. The realization cast him into
severe depressive fits, in which the threat of a death as ignominious as Caetano's constantly held over him seemed unbearable.
It would be preferable to admit defeat and end it all.

In December 1709, Böttger, in a fit of gloom, wrote to the king enclosing an emotional poem in which he confessed that he
was still incapable of providing gold. In return for his failure he offered his life to the king:

The King will yearn for golden fruit,

Which the feeble hand yet cannot present.

On this account it proffers now but crystals of porphyry and borax

Before the King's throne in place of those sacrifices.

Yes, the hand extends even the heart in vessels of porcelain

And as an offering here tenders both.

Fortunately for Böttger, however, political events once again preoccupied the king. The Russian army under Peter the Great
had defeated Charles XII of Sweden at Poltava in July 1709. Augustus, seeing his way clear to regain the crown of Poland,
had broken the peace treaty of Altranstädt whereby he had agreed to recognize Stanislas Leszcynski as Polish ruler, and reclaimed
the throne for himself, forming an alliance with Prussia and Russia against Sweden. With the king reinstated in Warsaw, the
problem of what to do with the miserable Böttger seemed less pressing than it had a few months earlier. If the alchemist could
not make gold, he had at least proved himself a capable inventor of porcelain, and if, as he promised, this could be commercially
successful, all Europe would look to Saxony with awe and admiration. With true porcelain to sell, Augustus could even attempt
to rival the artistic preeminence of the French.

But wars are inevitably costly and Augustus, though eager to profit from Böttger's invention, remained chronically short of
money and reluctant to incur any further unnecessary expense by setting up a new porcelain factory. He decided that if he
could attract outside investors his risk would be minimized; he would stand only to gain, both in terms of prestige and financially.
On January 23, 1710, therefore, a royal proclamation written in four languages was posted to the door of every church in Saxony.
In it Augustus announced the forthcoming foundation of his new royal porcelain manufactory. The announcement sought investors
for what the king promised would be a highly profitable financial venture. Anyone willing to put up money was offered shares
in the company and 6 percent interest on his money over two years plus an additional dividend. Shareholders could receive
added bonuses by taking repayment of their capital in the form of porcelain, which would be priced at 25 percent below its
market value.

But the cautious merchants of Saxony remained skeptical about the chances of such a business working. Nothing like it had
ever been attempted before, and Augustus's announcement failed to attract the enthusiastic response he hoped for. In the end
no one offered to invest in the porcelain factory and Augustus was obliged, with great reluctance, yet again to sponsor Böttger
from the royal purse.

While the king waited for a response to the announcement and letters were dispatched to and fro between Dresden and Warsaw,
Böttger continued diligently with his experiments into the best recipe for porcelain. There were constant developments. He
had recently been given a new sample of pure white kaolin that had come from a mine belonging to a wealthy landowner, Hans
Schnorr von Carolsfeld, of Aue, a town in a province of Saxony called Voigtland. Schnorr had come across the clay while mining
for iron and had been using it successfully as an ingredient in his cobalt factory. Pabst von Ohain, as the Saxon inspector
of mines, had a paid visit to Schnorr in 1708 and, noticing the incredibly fine powdery white clay, immediately sent a sample
to Dresden.

In tests Böttger discovered that Schnorr's clay was far superior to that of Colditz, on which he had previously relied, in
two important respects. It was easier to model, and because it contained fewer traces of iron oxide it fired whiter. Despite
this improvement, Böttger continued to use alabaster as a fluxing agent and this caused him constant problems. Alabaster can
only be used as a flux within a very limited temperature band, and the unreliability of the kilns meant that the precise temperature
was impossible to regulate and there were still huge losses in the firing.

Having given the porcelain factory the go-ahead, Augustus was anxious that a careful control should be kept on Böttger, whom
he continued to plague from time to time with demands for gold. A directorate of crown officials who would monitor his work
was appointed by the king. Against Böttger's wishes the hostile Michael Nehmitz was appointed director, a position that allowed
him continually to undermine Böttger's relationship with the king. More positive from Böttger's point of view was the selection
of Bartholmäi, the affable royal physician, who was put in charge of hiring staff; and Johann Melchior Steinbrück, a fair-minded
teacher, who was made factory supervisor. Böttger himself was appointed chief factory administrator.

While still perfecting the formula for white porcelain, Böttger now began commercial production of his red stoneware, but
progress was far from smooth. A larger, more efficient kiln had been built in the Jungfernbastei in Dresden but there was
a further unexpectedly serious difficulty: an acute shortage of skilled workmen. In order for Böttger's business to succeed
he needed specialists capable of turning the material he had invented into objects of beauty. But no one with the necessary
experience, it seemed, wanted to take a gamble on such a risky project and join Böttger's team. Advertisements for potters
were displayed prominently on the door of Dresden's town hall, but to no avail: not a single inquiry was forthcoming. Eventually,
in desperation and fearing that his business would never get off the ground, Böttger pulled strings with contacts at the court
and managed to entice the court potter, Fischer, to work for him making objects from the red porcelain. But Fischer could
hardly fail to be aware of the shortage of skilled labor, and was not about to miss an opportunity to take advantage of it.
He charged an exorbitant price for his work. Böttger, with no suitable alternative, was powerless to refuse.

Within weeks production was so well established that wares were mounting up and lack of storage space became another problem.
Dr. Bartholmäi allowed spare rooms at his house to be used as a store, but this was a short-term measure only. As stocks of
the new material were accumulated the important consideration of how to sell such a product had also to be resolved. The Easter
trade fair in Leipzig was an annual event at which the rich routinely gathered to buy the newest luxury items. It was clearly
the perfect place for Böttger's red stoneware to make its commercial debut, and the directorate organized an impressive stand
at which objects made from this miraculous new material as well as examples from the faience factory were on offer. White
porcelain, the greatest achievement of all, was also exhibited but not for sale.

The stand attracted considerable attention and according to newspaper reports was heavily visited by spectators who marveled
at the “extraordinary beauty” of the goods on offer. The Leipzig paper of May 14, 1710, gave detailed descriptions of the
exhibits, mentioning with awe “jugs, teacups, Turkish coffee pots, bottles and other items suitable for use and for adorning
the table.… Some because of their extraordinary hardness resemble jasper.… They are cut in angular shapes or in facets and
are of a wonderful lustre.… There is a sort of red vessel that has been lacquered like the most beautiful pieces of Japanese
work.”

But, as Böttger painfully discovered, fashions in porcelain, as with other forms of art, take time to establish. The first
public showing of the revolutionary red and white porcelain was far from the instant success for which he had hoped. Few pieces
were sold, orders were fewer than he had expected and the whole venture resulted in a considerable loss.

Nonetheless the directorate persisted in its attempt to market the wares, and salesmen were employed to sell at several other
large European fairs and in neighboring German states. In June the porcelain was displayed in the Peter and Paul Fair in Naumburg.
Unable to resist the temptation to reveal Böttger's achievement to Prussia, the directorate also dispatched a salesman to
Berlin, laden with choice items. One can scarcely imagine the reaction of the Prussian court as they realized that the exquisitely
wrought vases, bowls, cups and figurines were the direct result of the king's persecution of the talented young alchemist
a decade earlier.

As production grew, it became clear that more space would have to be found before white porcelain could go into full production.
The question was where to set up this new factory so as to ensure that the precious arcanum would remain safe. The Albrechtsburg,
strategically perched on its impregnable cliff top and still vacant since Böttger had been temporarily housed there in 1705,
seemed the ideal solution. The castle's position would ensure that the factory's activities could be easily safeguarded, and
the river beneath it allowed for easy access by boat—an important consideration since constant deliveries of wood were needed
to fuel the kilns. In June 1710 the new porcelain factory was moved to Meissen. Böttger, however, on strict instructions from
Augustus, remained a prisoner in Dresden.