The porcelain manufactory in Meißen is, well, a-Meißen. (The “ß,” called an eszett, is a double “s” used after certain vowel sounds. I could have just typed “ss”, but I think ß looks more impreßive.)
A manufactory, by the way – as I learned yesterday from our very good guide, Cosima – is a facility where everything is made by hand. Porcelain makers in Meißen have used the same ingredients and techniques for over three hundred years.
Europeans had revered Chinese porcelain for centuries but, until the early 18th century, had been unable to reproduce it.
The Chinese kept the process a closely guarded secret until a Jesuit priest spilled the beans in 1712. A few years before that, though, two employees of Augustus II (“the Strong”), King of Poland and Elector of Saxony, figured out a way to make high-quality porcelain from local materials, including kaolin and feldspar. (At that time, Saxony included Lithuania, part of Germany, Poland, and Ukraine.)
Augustus II established a factory in Meißen in 1710, and the rest is history; Meißen’s designs and products are prized around the world. Based on my tour yesterday, I can affirm that they are meticulously crafted, gorgeous, and in some cases cost more than a fleet of luxury cars.
After returning from the Meißen factory, wallet intact, I ate a quick lunch and then joined some of my fellow passengers for a 20-mile e-bike ride along the Elbe. Most of it was on car-free (but pedestrian-heavy) paths skirting castles, vineyards, and churches. Lilacs and wisteria were in bloom everywhere, the sun shone, and the breeze was gentle. The only thing that detracted from the experience was the bike seat, which apparently was salvaged from a Medieval torture device.
Physically invigorated but saddle-sore, I got back to the ship around 6 and had just enough time to shower before dinner. The theme was German cuisine. I’m a huge fan of pretzels and mustard, especially when washed down with a couple of restorative beers. Alas, I’m not a beef, pork, or poultry eater, so German food never graces my plate. Viking had me covered, though; the kitchen produced a tasty Arctic char, which compelled me to swap the beer for some white wine – such problems!
Today, we took a bus ride through Dresden, ending in the Old Town alongside the beautiful opera house and across from Dresden Castle. We had a guided tour of the “Green Vault” (it’s neither green nor a vault, but then again you know what they say about the Holy Roman Empire), which housed the treasures of Saxon rulers.
If you were the ruler of one of the HRE’s consitutent states and hoped to become even more powerful, you had to spend a lot of money. Merely slathering gold on everything wasn’t enough: the objets d’art had to be exquisite and, ideally, stimulate conversation among people of intelligence.
Augustus II of Saxony and his progeny were happy to comply, amassing a phenomenal collection of ingeniously designed clocks, statues, tableaux, and other objects.
After touring the Green Vault, we had free time to stroll the streets of Old Town Dresden, which in reality dates only to the post-World War II days. If you’ve read “Slaughterhouse-Five,” you know that the Allies reduced Dresden to rubble in February 1945, destroying the magnificent Frauenkirche (Church of Our Lady), the Castle, the Opera House, and other structures dating to Renaissance times and before.
Parts of the city were restored during the Communist period, but it wasn’t until after German reunification in 1990 that major structures such as the Frauenkirchen, Cathedral, and Castle were reconstructed. (The Communist East German government, with typical Communist disregard for history and beauty, particularly when tied to religion, refused to rebuild the city’s religious structures.)
Walking around Dresden today, there is little evidence of the destruction; in fact, it’s easy to imagine that you are walking past buildings that have stood intact for centuries. One tell-tale sign is the differing shades of stone: dark stones were salvaged from the rubble, lighter stones are not original. The buildings are made of sandstone, which naturally darkens over time. In the not-too-distant future, they will appear uniformly old.
I’m writing this on the bus to Wittenberg, where we’ll board another (non-)cruise ship that will serve as our home for the next three days. Look for my next post in a day or so; until then, thank you for following my odyßey and sharing my paßion for travel!
PuffinlessTravel 