And it was nothing more.”
That it is not always easy to determine where a piece of china may have come from we have already shown, even if it be “A Present from the Crystal Palace.” The ordinary mind may possibly imagine some hitherto unknown factory away at Sydenham, but the legend “Made in Germany” underneath instantly dispels that illusion.
It is necessary here to state that the world of bric-à-brac is divided into two parts—earthenware or pottery, and china or porcelain. All that is not earthenware is porcelain, and all that is not porcelain is earthenware. One may liken it to prose and poetry; what is not one must be the other, as Monsieur Jourdain discovered after he had spoken prose for forty years without knowing it. To continue the simile, some of Ruskin’s prose writings approach as near to poetry as do Wedgwood’s finer wares to porcelain.
Porcelain is produced by the artificial mixture of certain minerals known by their Chinese names of kaolin and petuntse, or their English ones of china-clay and felspar. The former is infusible under the greatest heat, the latter is not, but unites in a state of fusion with the china-clay, making a paste or “body,” which is hard, and, when broken, shows a smooth, vitreous fracture. Those who have attempted to mend old china must have noticed how different the broken surface is from that of pottery with its rougher edges.
Strictly speaking these “Chats” on earthenware ought to have appeared at the commencement of the volume, for earthenware comes first chronologically. In passing we will glance for a moment as to how porcelain came into Europe.
Porcelain was first invented by the Chinese some two centuries before Christ. It reached Europe as the Eastern civilisation penetrated to the west, and for hundreds of years vain attempts were made by potters to reproduce the fineness of porcelain with its beautiful glaze and hard paste. At Venice, at Florence, in France, and in Spain, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, an approximate success had been arrived at; soft paste had been developed to its furthest limit, but the real ingredients of the Chinese hard paste were unknown.
Accident, however, completed what centuries of industry had attempted. From perruque to porcelain seems a far cry, but the story is worth telling.
John Schnorr, an ironmaster, riding near Aue, observed that a soft earth adhered strongly to his horse’s hoofs. Considering that this earth might be used as a substitute for wheat flour as hair powder, he carried some away with him, and it was subsequently sold in large quantities for this purpose at Dresden, Leipsic, and other places. This kaolin (the base of hard paste) continued to be known as “Schnorr’s white earth.”
Johann Friedrich Böttcher, chemist to the Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, discovered the secret about 1709. One morning, on taking up his wig, he noticed it was much heavier than usual. He was informed by his valet that a new kind of hair-powder had been used. This was the ironmaster’s white earth. Böttcher was convinced that he had discovered at last the base of porcelain.
This was the foundation of the manufacture of porcelain at Meissen, and the factory then established has supplied the world with Dresden china ever since.